The Elder Blood Chronicles: In Shades of Grey
Author: Melissa Myers
Date: 2011-06-04 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Magic; Epic Fantasy; Adult; Science Fiction Fantasy
Description: In a breath it was gone -- her home, her family, her future. For Jala, the first taste of magic was a brutal one. Spared from death by the protection of a god, Jala is rescued by outlaws and taken to a remote country temple to be raised. Thinking herself no more than a farmer's orphan, Jala is caught completely off guard when told that she is to train at the High Academy. With no escape from this new future, Jala finds herself cast out of the temple and forced into a world of magic and intrigue. Now she must learn quickly about her world as well as herself if she is going to survive. As Jala's
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

In Shades of Grey

The Elder Blood Chronicles - Book One

by Melissa Myers

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011, 2012, 2013 Melissa Myers

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

All rights reserved, except as permitted by U.S. Copyrights Act of 1976.

No part of this publication can be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form
or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system
without prior written permission of the author.

Map of Sanctuary

Dedications

To my children who have remained patient throughout all of this.

You have considered me a good mother, even when work often kept me from it.

To my mother, who has supported me on everything I have ever put my mind to.

Thank you for helping me when everything was so hard.

“Life cannot be defined in simple black and white. In everything, there exists both good and evil. It is perspective and motivation that define a thing. An action of evil may have to occur for the greater good, while this may be viewed as either black or white depending on perspective. It is the motivation that makes it grey.

“Our world itself displays this. For those of the Elder Blood who remember, it is a prison they cannot escape. For those of us who were born here, it is a home to be protected. For all of us, it is a battlefield. Be it by sword or word, the wars between the Houses have raged since creation. Both the war, and the individuals who fight in it, are far more than black and white. With every word we speak, with every action we take, we exist in shades of grey. It is the motivation for our actions that define how dark of grey we are. It is a perspective that defines what shade others see us in. There are those in this world whose motivations are nearly white, but our perspective of them names them outlaw.”

~Quoted from Christian Morcaillo during a debate on Ethics at the Sanctuary Academy.

Prologue

Veir

Death sang loudly, her mournful voice composed of the screams of the wounded and the clashing of steel. The sound was as unwelcome as the bloody waves crashing against the sand near his feet. A funeral dirge for my land and people, Damon mused and spat blood from his mouth. It wasn’t his blood; it belonged to the fool that was even now charging back in for another strike at Damon. His first strike to the man had been a savage one, which nearly severed the arm. The spray of blood had caught him full in the face. By rights, the soldier should have dropped from that wound alone, but battle lust had him too far in its grips. Have I ever actually felt battle lust? Damon wondered. His mind was working far better than his body at this point. With a weary sigh, he brought his sword up at the last moment and sank it deep into the man’s chest, adding another scream to the symphony. It was not a grand flourish, not even done in anger. It was done simply of necessity as every other death he had dealt this morning had been delivered. Damon was too tired for anger and had never been the sort to show off. Wearily he pushed the man’s corpse from his blade and barely spared the body a glance as it fell to the sand. His eyes were already scanning his surroundings for another fool that he would have to kill. His stretch of the coast seemed to be blessedly free of anything moving, though. Corpses lay sprawled in a circle around where he stood. He suppressed a snort of disgusted laughter. He’d been on enough battlefields to know to avoid the man who had the circle of corpses around him. Obviously these fools hadn’t had such learning. No doubt they all wanted the honor of bravely killing High Lord Veirasha. Damon shook his head at the mere thought and his gaze rose to the ships rocking at anchor off his coast. Undoubtedly, thousands more fools lacking proper learning awaited there, just as eager for his head. This first landing had merely been those too eager to keep on the ships. A test of sorts, to see what kind of fight Veir could put up in its current state.

He turned away from the ships. He was too tired to contemplate how many enemies waited or how skilled they were. He would face them as they came, for the time for strategy was long past. To use strategy, you needed an army. While a year ago his had been the strongest there ever was, it was no more. Now he barely had enough men to hold this small strand of coast. The fabled Knights of Veir were gone. All that remained was a ragged bunch of men fighting back sickness as much as they were fighting off the invaders.

His eyes roamed down the coast where his youngest son was directing what remained of his men. If his son was feeling the effects of the sickness, he wasn’t showing it. He sat tall and proud above them from the back of a prancing black warhorse. One of the few horses left in Veir now. He felt a pang in his chest at the sight of his son who didn’t belong on a battlefield. There was no doubt that Zachary could fight; he simply belonged in a brighter place. He was more suited for tourneys than the blood and mess of war. The year before, Zachary had been a tourney knight and the girls had swooned at the sight of him. Damon smiled bitterly at the memory. Although it wasn’t often that I left my lands, I had gone to see him ride. Damon himself had never been the sort for tourneys, but to see Zachary had filled him with such pride. Zachary had taken after his mother, with strong characteristics of charm and vibrancy that Damon himself had never possessed, even at the boy’s young age of seventeen. His son had come in second in the lances and had bragged over it for days.

The young man on the white horse beside Zachary had taken first place. He couldn’t see his son’s third companion, but his eyes fell on the huge red horse the young man had been riding. Its body was half buried in the rising tide with sea foam the color of rust rushing over it. He hoped the young man hadn’t joined his horse in death. He had liked the bluff spoken little Firym. All three of them were too young and too filled with life for this much death. Damon gave a weary sigh and felt his lungs clench in protest, fighting back a fit of coughing as he watched Zachary and his remaining men finish off the last of the invaders.

“Father,” a voice called softly from behind him. My other son, the stoic and practical one that is a pure image of me at a younger age, Damon mused. He shifted his weight, pushed back from where he had been leaning on his sword, and turned to regard Tyber. His son looked about as bad as he himself felt. His skin was pale and his blue eyes were sunken. Blood smeared across one cheek, though Damon doubted it was his son’s blood. His normally pristine armor was covered in gore, his tabard torn and bloody. His eyes were the worst though. They reflected every emotion Damon himself was trying to push away. Disgust, anger, grief, and further back at just the corners where it could almost be ignored lurked despair. He held the reins to his grey gelding and waited for his father to bid him to continue. Tyber was always proper. Zachary would have blurted out whatever he wanted to say before Damon had even turned, but Tyber waited patiently as he always did.

Damon looked past his son to the gelding. The creature’s head was held low, almost to the ground. His sides were sunken, and his legs were braced in a fashion that suggested they might buckle soon. Puss trickled down from the corner of the animal’s eyes, and its breathing seemed labored. With blister-filled lungs, he would soon begin bleeding from his nose and mouth. Damon had lost his own horse days ago in the same fashion. With the first sign of the plague being fever, a loss of appetite was soon to follow. And soon after that, things became truly unpleasant. It had started with the animals before it moved to his people. Only the strongest of the beasts had survived the first wave, but now apparently they too were succumbing.

I know, Father, he is almost done for. I wish I could end his suffering. He deserves better. But I fear I may need the last of his strength. We’ve just gotten word that Merro’s men have broken through in the north. If we don’t answer, they will win through to the capital.” Tyber’s voice was thick with grief and came out almost choked. “I doubt he will make it too far, but anything is better than nothing,” he added.

Damon remained silent. He was unsure how to tell his son there was nothing in the capital to save. Word had come this morning before the battle that his wife and daughter were victims to the plague. Damon gritted his teeth and forced his imagination away from the images of their bodies twisted in sickness. He wanted to keep his last memories of them as pure as they had been. There could be no denial though; he would have to tell his son they were dead. He would have to tell them all that the capital was burning. He had ordered it so himself. It had reached the point where it was easier to move the living from the city than it was to move the dead. He stared past his son in the direction of his home, his former home, he corrected. By now, it would be nothing more than ashes. How exactly did one tell his children that their beloved mother was dead? The woman who had nursed them at her breast, cradled them when they were upset, and loved them so fiercely. How could he tell his two sons that their little sister, who was not even old enough to have known a first kiss, was dead, despite how they had always protected her? No matter how strong they had been, no matter how large their armies, no matter how proud their house, Veir had fallen. Slain by an enemy they could not fight before this army had even arrived. House Veirasha’s last survivors stood on this corpse-littered beach, with an army twenty times their own, rocking at anchor in their harbor. Veir was lost; there could be no denying it. Despair crept over his mind again, and he firmly pushed it away once more. He had two children left. He must do what he could for them.

“Father?” Tyber’s voice came again, pulling him back from his dark line of thoughts. He looked back at the gelding before turning his attention to his son. Damon could remember teaching his son to ride on that horse. Tyber had spent countless hours on the sturdy grey, training with lance and sword. Not for tourneys of course, Tyber was his father’s son and had never been the sort for that glamour. He and that horse had trained for this day to come, when Veir would need protecting, if it were ever invaded. There was no way to train for what they faced now, no way to prepare for plague-stricken lands. Damon watched as the animal swayed back and forth. It was so far gone, yet it refused to give up. No matter how hard Tyber had pushed the animal during training, it had remained as stubborn and solid as his son, never admitting defeat and never giving up. Sometimes we are not given a choice on the matter though Damon thought grimly. What was that saying the knights had? “A knight is nothing without his horse.” There was also, “A knight is only as good as his horse.” Neither rang well on his ears at the moment. His son was still watching him, his grief turning to concern at his father’s long silence.

“Put him to rest, Tyber. End his suffering in thanks for the loyal service he has given you. Then fetch your brother and his comrades and bring them to me at my tent. We have much to discuss.” Damon’s voice was barely above a whisper.

A ragged cheer broke from his pathetic army, and they both turned to look in amazement. A cheer was the last thing Damon expected from a defeated army wracked with plague. These men could barely stand and hold swords; how did they possibly find the energy for yelling? His eyes found the source of their attention soon enough. Victory, the young man on the white horse, gestured toward a ship with one hand. Damon tried to ignore the sick irony to the boy’s name. It was like the Faydwer, to name their children in such a fashion, no matter how wrong it might prove to be in the future. No, that wasn’t fair. This was his defeat, not the young Faydwer’s. Damon felt the brush of strong magic wash across him. He narrowed his eyes and watched Victory with curiosity. The boy’s hand was still raised out in front of him, his arm rigid with the muscles straining. His palm turned upwards as though he were lifting a great weight.

Tyber raised his eyebrow and looked to his father. “The ships are protected. The Barllen on the hulls will absorb the magic. What is he doing?”

Damon shook his head slowly in answer. Tyber was right about the Barllen. They had discovered that fact the first day of the assault. Magic was useless when Barllen was involved. The metal was not picky about what it absorbed. Whether helpful or deadly, it stole both.

Victory’s hand rose slightly and his horse pranced in the surf sending a spray of seawater several feet in the air. Damon wondered idly, how is it that the plague chose its victims with such care. Only days before, Tyber’s horse had been as hale and healthy as the white. Today, it stood on death’s door while Victory’s danced. His musings were suddenly silenced as the army gave another cheer and a thunderous bellow split the air. The water around the anchored ships boiled and churned. Screams of terrified men washed back toward them. A scaled head nearly the size of one of the ships broke above the waves and let loose another bellow that seemed to shake the ocean itself.

“By the Aspects,” Tyber said in a voice barely above a whisper. “He summoned a bloody serpent and a damn big one at that,” he finished in a tone of disbelief.

The enraged serpent rose higher in the water with its neck and head now cresting nearly thirty feet over the biggest of the fleet. With a triumphant yell, Victory released the magic that controlled the animal and sagged in his saddle. Cheers erupted from his army once again as the serpent turned its full wrath upon the ships. The sound of cracking timbers and dying men came to them faintly across the harbor, and Damon watched in silence as half a dozen of his enemies’ ships found a grizzly end.

“Impressive,” Damon admitted with a slight nod. He turned back to Tyber. “Still not enough though. See to the horse Tyber, and then fetch them as I said,” he said as he walked slowly toward his tent. As far as he could see, only one choice remained to save his sons, and it wasn’t a good one. He could try to convince them simply to leave Veir, but he knew without speaking the words, they would refuse. As much as he himself would refuse, had anyone suggested it to him, which left only the most drastic of choices.

The tent flap pushed open, and Zachary strode in. Although his raven black hair was in disarray and he seemed worn down, he wore a fierce grin. “Did you see the serpent, Father?” he asked.

“How could he miss it?” Havoc muttered as he followed into the tent. The Firym was typical of his people in coloring with swarthy skin and red hair. In this tent, he looked as out of place as a cardinal amongst ravens. Damon gave a slight nod and motioned them to a seat. The news he had was not pleasant, and he’d rather his son be seated and disarmed. Getting his sword away from him was doubtful but he would settle for seated. Zachary was fiery of temper, a trait he must have gotten from his mother. Damon doubted he himself had ever qualified as fiery.

Victory entered next, looking exhausted from his efforts yet triumphant. He gave a respectful bow to Damon and took a seat himself. Damon motioned the boys to the food on the table. He, himself, had no appetite He hadn’t felt hungry for days, especially not since the fever had finally gone. And, it’s already begun on my lungs he thought grimly. He watched the entrance and waited patiently for Tyber.

The tent flap pushed open for a last time, and Tyber entered, his expression bleak and his eyes filled with grief. “I just received the report from the capital, Father,” Tyber said.

Damon gave a slight nod and motioned his son to sit. “Your brother has not as of yet,” he reminded Tyber gently.

“What news?” Zachary asked, his tone filled with concern. He looked between his father and brother and his expression darkened. “What news?” he asked again, this time making it more of a demand.

“Calm yourself, Zachary,” Tyber warned.

Havoc and Victory exchanged glances, and Victory rested a hand lightly on Zachary’s arm. “I’m sure that is why Lord Veirasha has called us in here, Zach, to tell us.” Victory smiled gently as he spoke in a weak yet firm voice.

“They have broken through our northern border, Zachary,” Damon began. He watched Zachary tense at the words, exactly as he had expected him to. If he didn’t push forward now, Zachary and his two companions would be riding north within the hour. It would seem the way to tell his children the wretched news was quickly and bluntly. He didn’t have the luxury of time to spare Zachary’s feelings. “Our capital was already lost, however. I received word this morning that your mother and sister died in the night. What remains of our people have set the city to flames. There were too many dead for the survivors to tend properly.” Damon watched grief wash over his child’s face and had to force himself to continue speaking. “Veir is lost,” he finished, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“We still live! Veir is not lost until I no longer breathe!” Zachary all but yelled his defiance in a voice that burst with pure raw emotion.

“My Lord Veirasha, if I call, my people will answer. Give me leave, and I will send for Faydwer’s armies. I know my father would never refuse you,” Victory offered.

“The Firym are always ready for a fight. We will guard your borders while your lands recover. My cousin waits even now with a full contingent of Flame Riders at the borders. Give your word and they will fight either here or in Merro,” Havoc added, not to be outdone by Victory.

Damon shook his head slowly. “Your offer is generous, both offers. But no, I will not bring my troubles to allies. I cannot risk that the plague would spread farther,” he said with regret.

“You mean to surrender?” Zachary demanded in an incredulous voice

“Never,” Damon returned. For that single word, the grief and despair was gone from his voice, and the word came strong and filled with determination. Damon Veirasha High Lord of Veir did not surrender.

“What do you mean to do?” Tyber said, cutting his brother off before he could speak again.

All eyes were on him, each expression different from the next, Damon noted. He saw grief and hope and outrage painted clearly. Victory alone wore an expression of respect as if the boy could already see what Damon would do. “I mean to end this,” Damon answered in cold finality.

“How?” Tyber asked in a voice heavy with skepticism.

Damon ignored the question and turned his attention to Zachary’s comrades. “While I cannot think of proper words to thank you both for your assistance, I’m afraid the two of you will have to leave Veir very soon. This is not proper treatment for such valued friends, but I’m afraid it’s for your own safety that I ask you to go,” he stated in a cool and firm voice. There was no room to argue with him when he used that voice.

“As you say, Lord Veirasha.” Victory bowed his head and gave Havoc a light smack on his arm. “We will not argue, Havoc. We will do as the High Lord requests.” He spoke firmly, and Havoc’s eyes narrowed.

Damon watched the two of them for a moment. Neither of them realized he knew of their status with the Fionaveir. Normally he would avoid bringing the topic up, given the Fionaveir were considered outlaws by most, but he did not have the time for delicacy. “I would ask you to take word of this day back to the Fionaveir. I would ask you to give my regrets to Caspian. I think his plan would have worked, had we been given the time,” he said, and both young men froze. Havoc actually looked down at his own arm, as if to see if the telltale tattoos of the Fionaveir were showing.

Victory recovered first; the shock slowly melted away. As his green eyes stayed attached to Damon’s face, he gave a slight bow. “As you say, Milord. We will report all we have seen,” he agreed.

Damon gave them a nod and turned his attention back to his sons. “I do not intend to surrender. Veirasha do not surrender. Death before dishonor.” He reassured them both. He picked up a bottle from the table and poured them all a glass of the fine dark wine. “All of you have one last drink to Veir and House Veirasha. We end this soon and when it is finished, neither will exist. Drink to the memory of what was bright and true. What is left will be much darker I fear.” Damon lifted his own glass to his lips as he spoke. He watched the confusion play across their faces, but they humored him and drank. “Tyber,” he said and waited until his son set his glass back down and gave him his full attention.

“Yes, Father?” Tyber asked.

“I name you lord of this land now before these witnesses. What is left of me after this will not be fit to lead. What remains of Veir will not be much and you may hate me in time for what I gift you with. But if our line is to continue we must take what remains to us and make it our strength.” Damon’s voice was filled with resignation.

Both of his boys looked at him in confusion, and Zachary looked ready to object, but Damon silenced them both with a gesture. “Victory, Havoc you should go,” Damon said as he looked back down at the wine in his hand. It set poorly in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if it was the sickness or the situation. Either could turn a man’s stomach. He watched the two outsiders leave, and looked to his sons. “Be strong, be honorable, and always remember this day. This plot was not Merrodin’s alone, Tyber. Merrodin hasn’t the wit for the plague that was sent to us. Watch for his accomplice and see that he is punished for his crimes,” he said and stood slowly. The boys followed him out of the tent, their expressions unsure.

“I have no idea what is going on,” Havoc complained. Victory had nearly used the last of his magic to transport them beyond the borders of Veir. He sat on Avalanche, his great white warhorse, with his eyes locked on the green hills of Veir in the distance.

“Damon is going to do something very drastic,” Victory replied, his eyes never leaving the distant hills.

“But what?” Havoc asked.

Victory ran a hand down his horse’s neck and gave a slight shrug. With a grim smile, he slowly dismounted. “Why don’t we see?” He offered. With a slight gesture of his hand, a small circle of light formed before the two of them. In moments, it coalesced into a perfect image of the encampment they had so recently left.

They both watched in silence as Lord Damon moved to a hill overlooking his eastern seashore. The lord scarcely looked older than his two sons. He moved gracefully, despite the plate mail he wore, and his jet-black hair was as unmarred by grey as his face was of wrinkles. Tyber and Zachary followed in his wake. Zachary walked with a defiant set to his shoulders, with the reins of his horse held in a clenched hand. Tyber followed, moving with grim determination. To anyone watching, the remaining Veirasha did not look defeated. Tired? Yes. Grief stricken? Most certainly, but not beaten. Damon took a moment then, at the top of the hill. He turned and looked to his lands. The lush green fields, once so full of life. The once shining sands of his coasts now reflected the bloodstained battlefield. It looked to Victory as though he were trying to commit these last sights to his mind.

Havoc raised an eyebrow and looked to Victory with a questioning glance but remained silent. Victory shook his head slightly and gave a faint shrug but never took his eyes off Damon. The old lord was gathering power. It was done so subtly that Victory had thought him simply admiring his lands. He should have known better. Damon was coldly practical, and that was an action of a sentimental man. He was gathering a lot of power Victory realized. Far more than he himself would even dare to attempt to hold. Tyber and Zachary seemed to realize what was happening then, and they looked to each other for an answer.

It all happened so quickly, not even the greatest mage could have countered it. Damon gave very little indication he was gathering power and none at all when he released it. The air around him blackened and the sky above went pitch, all signs of the clear spring morning gone. The land of Veir began to wither and what remained of his army died where they sat. Victory watched dark mists swirl around the Veirasha lords, and they seemed to disappear in its embrace. With a roar, the magic consumed Veir with savage hunger, and then standing in the midst of it all was Damon, stepping from the black mists like some terrible wraith. With a pale hand, he gestured toward the ships and then to the east, toward Merro and the Lord who had sent these disasters upon them. The magic seemed to swirl faster and part of the blackness gave way, leaving Veir seemingly trapped in twilight.

“I claim destruction. I claim the mantle, and if any dare challenge me, let them do so now,” Damon said in a voice as cold as ice. He waited for a long moment then turned to his sons. Their once silver armor was darkened to black. A halo of shadows seemed to surround them as they moved. “Veir is gone, what remains shall be Oblivion. They sent death and destruction to us, so we take it now and make it our strength,” Damon said to his sons. They looked at him with faces devoid of emotion and solemnly nodded. Victory gave a slight shudder at the sight of Zachary so cold. He had known him for half his life and Zach had always been vibrant. He seemed a shell now after the magic. Damon motioned toward the encampment below and shadowy and twisted forms began to rise. They bore the vague shape of a man but nothing more than that. All humanity had been stripped from these souls in death. “These are your subjects now, Tyber. Manage them well for they will always be eager to destroy. Keep them on a very short leash, and when you find the accomplice, remove that leash. Never remove the strength of Oblivion from them. To do so would be to surrender them to death.” Damon’s voice was cool and firm. His sons knew better than to speak when he used that tone.

Victory shivered slightly as he watched and glanced up to Havoc. His scry began to flicker and then died. His strength was too far gone to maintain it summoning the serpent had simply been too draining on him.

“What in the name of the Aspects was that? He just destroyed his own lands,” Havoc muttered.

“That was the ascension of an Aspect. Out of all of them, Lord Veirasha will be the closest to a true god. He has just claimed destruction, a mantle no other dared to take up,” Victory answered. He had never thought to witness such a thing. His gaze turned toward Merro. “Woe be to his enemies,” he muttered.

Havoc remained silent for a long while as he stared at the distant black cloud where Veir had once proudly stood. “So we report to Caspian now. I’m sure he will just love this report.” Havoc sighed.

Victory shook his head slightly in disagreement. “No, now we do what? Let me rest and regain a bit of power, and then we go to see what remains of Merro,” he corrected in a quiet voice. He doubted they would find anything remaining at all. In the conflict of Merro and Veir, there was no victor. As Damon had said he would do, he had ended it. A Veirasha was always good for their word. “I told Lord Veirasha we would report all and we can’t do that until we see Merro.”

Havoc gave a slight nod of acceptance. “Rest then, if you think you can, I know I won’t. Whether he was walking or not I believe I just witnessed the death of a friend. That creature in the black armor was not Zachary Veirasha,” he said in a quiet voice, his expression solemn.

“Zachary Oblivion now, I suppose, or something of those lines. We will know in time,” Victory said, as he unrolled his bedroll and wondered if he actually could sleep.

Chapter 1

Northern Merro

The sky was lightening with dawn when the first of the noises started below. She listened carefully, straining her ears for the sounds. First was the soft cry of her brother, followed soon with mother’s soft footsteps and soothing sounds. Then the heavier tread of her father as he headed downstairs. She had learned that there was a proper time to leave her room. If she were up too early, Mother would know she’d had another nightmare and that upset her. Silently, Jala adjusted her position in the windowsill and watched the last of the stars fade from the sky. She’d go down when the rattle of dishes started. If Mother was occupied with cooking breakfast, she wouldn’t notice how alert Jala was. Father would, of course. There wasn’t much he missed. The nightmares didn’t seem to bother him, though, not like they did Mother. She didn’t really understand that, but didn’t spare much thought for it either. It’s just how they were, and she accepted it.

Last night’s dream had been the worst ever, but she hadn’t run to her parents. She hadn’t cried either. She had huddled for a time, snuggled against Cap, and the dog had eased some of the terror. The amulet had helped, too. She lifted her tiny fingers to the necklace. Her Aunt Carissa had given it to her when Father had told her of the dreams. She was a priestess of Fortune, and said her god himself had blessed it.

A whine came from the bed behind her, and she turned to see Cap poking his black and white head from under the blankets. By now, the collie was used to the routine too, and he had heard the telltale rattle of breakfast. With a quick nod to him, she slipped back down from the windowsill and pulled her boots on. She had dressed hours ago but had known better than to put on shoes. Bare feet could move silently, while booted ones would not. Cap stood, waiting silently by the door by the time she crossed the room, his shaggy tail wagging as his eyes gleamed at her expectantly. With a grin, she ruffled his head. He was gone as soon as she opened the door. She closed her door quietly and listened to the clatter as he made his way down the rough wooden stairs, then the chuckle as her father opened the back door for him. She made her own way downstairs, her pace somewhat slower, but not by much.

“Morning, sweetling,” her mother called as she entered the kitchen. Her brother was already seated at the small table with a glass of milk and bowl of thick porridge in front of him. He gurgled his own greeting to her and clapped his hands. With a quick hug to her mother, she surveyed the countertop to assure herself that her brother would be the only one eating the porridge. Thick slabs of bacon sizzled in the pan, and her mother was busily finishing biscuits. She concealed the sigh of relief and gave her mother another quick hug as she headed off to find her father.

As she had expected, he was seated on the back porch stairs, sipping his tea and watching the world outside awaken. She moved as quietly as she could and sat beside him, leaning her head on his arm. It was their routine. How they spent every morning. She would awaken first and pretend she hadn’t. Mother would cook. And she would sit by father, and his steady presence would diminish whatever lingering parts of the dreams refused to be ignored. He didn’t even have to say anything; it was just him. It didn’t matter what was wrong, he could fix it.

“Going to be a good day for riding today,” he said quietly after a long silence. His voice was deep and mellow and as soothing to her as it was to the animals.

“Momma said I had to help in the garden today,” she answered just as quietly. Her own voice reminded her of squeaking, compared to his, and she frowned.

He looked down at her and smiled. “Let me handle your momma. I said you could go with me to check the cows, and Blackjack will need to be exercised.” She grinned back up at him and nodded.

“Want to help me feed? Not right for us to be getting breakfast when everyone out here is hungry, too,” he asked as he slowly stood and set his tea mug on the railing of the porch. “Your mother will be wanting fresh milk, too. Best see if you can find Daisy and round her up.” With a bound, she was on her feet and racing off toward the barn. This, too, was normal, and she knew exactly where to find the old cow.

He was just finishing graining the horses when she entered the barn leading the docile old Daisy. She gave the lead readily to her father and moved to the horse stalls. Buck, her father’s huge roan, ignored her and stayed completely intent on his grain.

Blackjack, however, looked up with curiosity as she clambered up the stall to sit on the top rail. She thought he was smaller than Buck by a good deal, but sleeker, with a coat the color of pitch, four white socks, and a thick blaze. Not a mark on him, either. He was perfect. He was by far the best name-day gift she had ever gotten, aside from Cap of course. Father had given her the collie last year and Blackjack this year. Mother teased that just once he should give a gift that didn’t eat. Jala, however, disagreed. There were no children close, well, none her age anyway, and so she had her dog and now Blackjack, for company. She had her brother, of course, but her horse and dog were a lot more fun than a baby. Maybe when Jacob got older, he would be fun to play with, but she doubted it. Wrapping one arm around a post to keep her balance she reached out and pulled hay from Blackjack’s forelock. He nickered to her quietly and pushed her gently with his muzzle. She’d only had him three days, and already he knew her well enough to expect treats. “I’ll bring them after breakfast,” she whispered to him. When no carrots or chunks of dried apple were produced, he went back to eating his oats and she turned to watch her father milk the cow.

He had rolled up his sleeves for the milking, and she studied the tattoos on his left arm thoughtfully. He had scars as well, long narrow ones that crisscrossed both arms and a couple on his shoulder, though she had only seen those once. She cast a glance back toward her father’s horse. Buck had scars like that too, one long one that ran down his shoulder and another smaller one across his jaw.

“How come Buck has scars, Daddy?” She knew he wouldn’t talk about his own scars because she’d tried asking before. He would speak of those no more than he would speak of the tattoos. But maybe if she found out about Buck’s she would understand his. He’d joked once that he’d had the horse longer than he’d had his wife, and he’d sooner part with the wife. Old man Walker had been trying to buy the roan at the time. Walker had laughed, and mother had swatted father lightly, and the matter had been dropped. Her father glanced over his shoulder toward her and smiled. His dark hair fell down over his eyes briefly, and he gave a slight shrug as he pushed it back with his arm.

“Because he wasn’t always a farmer’s horse any more than I’ve been a farmer. He earned his right to this relaxing life, same as I did,” he replied and turned his attention back to the cow.

She frowned at the answer. Father’s life was hardly relaxing. He worked from the time the sun rose to when it set. She chewed on her lip a moment and considered his words. It was no more than she got when she asked about his scars. She looked back toward Buck. The horse’s head had risen at the sound of her father’s voice, and he watched him intently. “But how did he earn them?” She tried again, not really expecting an answer. Her father was silent so long she was sure he wasn’t going to answer.

He stopped milking and began to stand slowly, careful not to spill the milk. She clambered back down from the rail and took the pail from him. “I suppose the simplest way would be to say he was a soldier.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful. He rolled his sleeves back down and turned his gaze to Buck. She remained silent, hoping he would continue. He smiled down at her and took the pail back knowing if she carried it to the house, she would spill over half of it despite her best efforts not too. “The simplest answer is not always the best answer though. Soldier isn’t exactly the right term since we never served in an army.”

He started walking back toward the house, and she followed closely on his heels. What he had given so far, was more of an answer than she usually got, and she wasn’t about to let the topic go so easily. Father never spoke of his life before she was born. Mother would occasionally speak of life in the city. Hers was a boring past, though. She would speak of fancy dresses and parties, and things of very little interest to Jala.

Jala tried desperately to think of a way to phrase another question before they got back to the house, because she knew he wouldn’t speak anymore on the topic, once they were inside. “Where did you fight, if not with an army then?” She asked hopefully.

He studied the clouds as he walked with the same thoughtful expression. “Oh just about everywhere, I suppose. I’ve been to most of the other lands. I fought when and where I was needed to fight.”

She felt her smile grow wider. “So you were a Justicar, then?” Excitement was thick in her voice. She’d heard plenty of stories about Justicars from the Walker children, and the thought that her father had been one, thrilled her. They were noble protectors in all of the stories, dashing knights saving villages and protecting the weak. Her father had stopped at her words, and she gazed up at him with adoration. Her father was tall and strong with hair still dark with no sign of grey. She could easily see him protecting the weak. Her father must have been the best of all of the Justicars.

“Where did you hear about Justicars?” he asked. His tone was not one she was familiar with. He didn’t seem upset, or unhappy. It was guarded, almost cautious sounding. He was looking down at her with little to no hint of his usual grin on his face.

Her enthusiasm died a bit, and she answered quietly. “From Nathan Walker. He was telling stories about the troubles in the South near the capital. He said everything was a mess until the Justicars sorted it out.” Of course, there had been more than just the most recent story, but she wasn’t sure about her Father’s mood right now, and unlike his words earlier, the simplest answer did seem the best to her.

He nodded slowly. “Nathan does like his stories. But you must remember life is not like stories. Things may seem beautiful when you hear about them, but once you see them the truth is not so pretty.” He started walking again by now they were almost to the porch. “And no, Jala, I was never a Justicar. Not even close to being a Justicar. Run on ahead and see if breakfast is ready while I strain the milk,” he asked. She nodded to him and ran on ahead, not missing the fact that her father was staring off toward the south.

Her mother was setting the table as she entered the house. The delectable scent of fresh bacon and gravy made her mouth water. Watching her mother closely, Jala crept toward the table with her violet eyes fixed on the stack of biscuits.

“Wash your hands,” her mother directed without even a glance up. Jala hurried to the basin and hastily scrubbed her hands clean. She hadn’t really thought them dirty. All she had done was to lead a cow and pet a horse, but mother was particular about such things and it didn’t pay to argue. She dried them quickly and found her seat at the table. “Wait for your father,” her mother added needlessly. She sighed and fidgeted and watched the door for her father. By the time the door finally creaked open, she was sure she was about to fall over from starvation. He crossed the room and set the cream bowl and the milk pail down, before giving her mother a kiss. He cast a smile at Jala and ruffled Jacob’s hair as he took his own seat. Jala felt a nudge by her leg, and glanced down to see Cap looking up to her hopefully. She grinned and ruffled his head, the same as her father had Jacob’s, then found herself glancing quickly at her mother. If she had noticed Jala touching Cap, she would make her wash her hands again.

“Looks good, Maggie,” he said as he surveyed the piled biscuits and gravy. Her mother smiled and sat down as well. Jala watched them a moment. It often amazed her how mother could seem so serious, but a few words from father could make her expression soften so much.

“Just simple fare,” she replied, and began piling food onto the plates. She had braided her hair up into a tidy bun, and her dress looked freshly pressed. Jala ran a hand through her own wild curls and frowned. She should have braided it before she came down. That would have pleased mother. Her mother always looked tidy, no matter what time of day. She was always neat and pretty.

“The Walker boys are coming over to finish plowing the north field this morning. I expect they will be here within the hour,” her father began, pausing only long enough to pour himself another cup of the hot, bitter tea he liked so much. Jala wrinkled her nose at the smell of it and took a sip from her own cider. “I asked them to bring Becka along to give you some help in the garden.” He finished and began to eat his breakfast.

Mother looked to Jala then back to her father. “Becka would be fine help, but I have Jala to help me. Surely Becka’s own mother could use her help.”

“The Walkers have more children than I do cows. Half the time I wonder how they feed them all. I’m sure Lacey will have plenty of help in her garden and Becka will earn a few coins by helping in ours. Besides, she is twelve. She will be more help than Jala.” Jala kept her eyes on both parents as she ate. Her mother had an eyebrow arched, and her father had that slight grin that showed he knew he was going to get his way.

“Jala will need to learn how to garden, or her family will starve. Remember the first year we settled out here. Half my plants died and we had to buy most of our food. By spring, we could barely afford more seed. I wouldn’t wish that on my daughter.”

“Jala is only seven with plenty of time to learn,” her father countered smoothly.

She felt the nudge at her leg again and slipped Cap a thick piece of bacon; sure neither parent would notice. Taking another bite of food, she sat back and watched as her father smoothly guided the conversation.

“I won’t have time to watch her, better that she helps me, so I know she isn’t getting into mischief,” her mother said mildly. She had recognized the direction of this talk by now, and her objections seemed halfhearted.

Her father looked shocked at the words, his expression almost comical. Jala repressed a giggle and fed another piece of bacon to Cap. “Jala? Mischief? Why I don’t believe the two have ever met.” He raised an eyebrow at Jala and gave her a grin.

Her mother repressed her own grin and shook her head. “Of course not. Not your sweet, innocent Jala.”

“Indeed not. My Jala couldn’t do any wrong.” He leaned over and gave her mother a light kiss on the cheek. “I will be taking her with me to check the cows. Surely Mischief won’t find her if she is with me.”

Her mother did laugh then. “No doubt, it knows you far better. Why stop at a child when it can visit an old friend.” She gave another sigh, her smile still showing. “You do realize you have a daughter, right?” She asked with another shake of her head. “You treat her more as a boy. Look at her patched trousers, oversized shirt, and wild hair.”

“Aye, Maggie, I know she is a girl, and I know I’m working on limited time here. Soon enough she will be all braids and ribbons and afraid of dirt. Her concerns will be of young boys and new dresses. Keeping her poor old father company while he checks the family cows will be her last thought. Let me have the few years of her childhood I have left, please.” He looked at her with exaggerated pleading and sipped from his tea in time to hide the wide smile. His eyes danced merrily over the brim at her mother who was laughing softly again.

“Over played that a bit, didn’t you?” She asked through her laugh. “You poor old withered thing, I suppose you can take your daughter out before she turns on you completely. I think she is going to wear the hide off that poor pony though. She’s been riding him more than walking since you gave him to her.”

“He’s a horse, not a pony,” Jala objected quietly. Her father grinned wider, and her mother simply rolled her eyes.

“I’ll saddle Blackjack for her and she can ride about the yard a bit while I get them started on the plowing, then we will be off and should be back by late afternoon,” he stated.

Her mother frowned slightly. “I don’t like her riding by herself yet, Toby. She is still so little. Wait on the saddling until you are back and she can help me pack a lunch for the two of you. If you are going to be out till late afternoon, you will need it.”

“She’ll be fine. That pony wouldn’t spook if you tied a snake to his bridle. Jala has good balance, too. We shouldn’t need much of a lunch. Some dried meat and cheese should do fine. I can fix that myself before we leave out. No need to trouble yourself.”

“Horse, not a pony,” Jala objected once again. A pony was short and stubby, and while Blackjack was smaller, he certainly wasn’t stubby.

Both of her parents once again ignored the objection, and she sighed. She slipped another piece of bacon to Cap and watched her mother wipe Jacob’s face free of the newest batch of slobber.

“Jala, that’s the third piece of bacon I’ve seen you feed that dog. One more and he will be banned from the house.” Her mother didn’t even look up from the baby as she spoke and Jala froze.

Her father gave a chuckle and pushed his chair out. “Com’on, Curly, let’s get that pony saddled.” Jala hopped out of her chair quickly and raced out the door before her mother could voice another objection. Cap ran lazily along beside her, nearly tripping her twice. She could hear her parents still talking behind her, but didn’t pay attention to the words. Just as he said he would, her father had handled Mother’s objections nicely. He always did as he said he would. She wasn’t too sure about his arguments, though. She couldn’t imagine ever being the girl he described. How could dresses ever be better than trousers? You couldn’t climb in dresses.

“Now I told your mother you wouldn’t go past the brook until you were with me,” her father said as he sat her carefully into the saddle. Buck stood saddled and waiting restlessly nearby, and she could see the boys on the road riding toward the house. She wouldn’t have long to wait before he was ready to go and she tried hard to hide her excitement. This would be the first time she had gone out with him on her own horse.

“I won’t,” she agreed, readily taking the reins up in her hands. On a normal day, she would object to not being able to leave the yard, but she wasn’t about to do anything wrong this morning. Her being able to ride all day, well away from the house, more than made up for not being able to leave the yard for the short while she had to wait.

“Shouldn’t take me more than an hour to get them started and then we will be off. Keep yourself out of trouble till then and don’t go past the brook,” he repeated with a smile.

She smiled back at him and nodded, watching him swing onto Buck and ride off to meet the boys. She gave a sharp whistle to Cap and turned her horse toward the yard. She had no interest in seeing the Walker boys or Becka. The boys tended to tease her, and Becka never had anything important to say.

Mother was just setting Jacob down near the garden patch as she rounded the house. Smiling she waved happily to her.

“Not past the brook, young lady,” her mother called out. Jala nodded back in response. She eased Blackjack into a trot and took a few turns around the yard, occasionally glancing up to watch either her mother talking with Becka or her father hitching the huge team of draft horses. She was getting bored quickly, and father hadn’t even taken the team up to the field yet. She looked around the yard trying to devise some game to keep herself busy and out of trouble and her gaze stopped on the large tree near the brook. It wasn’t past the brook; it was right at the edge. Her eyes climbed the branches and landed solidly on the thick, dark fruits hanging heavily on the branches.

With a gentle nudge, she urged Blackjack beneath the tree. She could smell the scent of the fruit now, rich and sweet, and too good to ignore. She judged the distance to the lowest branch carefully. If she stood in the saddle, she could reach it and then pull herself up. It was still early spring, but there was a chance a few of the Jimpa would be ripe enough to pick. The peaches and plums were still a good month away from harvest, but Jimpa ripened fast and was nearly as sweet as candy.

The thought of finding enough to take with them, spurred her on, and she stood carefully in the saddle and stretched until she felt her fingers brush the branch. With a dexterity that would make a monkey jealous, she pulled herself into the tree and began climbing her way to the upper branches where the thickest of the fruit hung. She glanced back down the tree to see Blackjack daintily nibbling on the grass below the tree, exactly where she had left him. She smiled and began checking the fruit for ripened ones. It would be a simple matter to drop back down into her saddle once she was done and then she could surprise Father with the treat. She looked up toward the north field to see Father riding Buck up the hill, while the boys led the draft horses and plow behind him at a much slower pace. That gave her about twenty minutes to find the fruit and be back down in the saddle before anyone even noticed she was in the tree. There was plenty of time as far as she figured.

She had found three ripened enough to pick when she heard Cap give a sharp bark below the tree. It was followed by another, more urgent bark. She looked down to see her dog staring toward the south. Blackjack gave a snort and his small ears pinned back. She nearly dropped the fruit in shock as the horse gave another snort and bolted running hard toward the north. In utter bewilderment, she watched him run and looked back down at Cap who was whining pitifully. She followed his stare toward the south and watched in complete confusion as a black cloud covered the entire southern horizon. It billowed and ebbed almost seeming to pulse with life. She heard a cry of alarm from behind her and turned her gaze back to see her mother staring after the quickly disappearing form of Blackjack.

“Jala!” Her mother cried out frantically. Her hands were clenched in her apron tightly while her eyes searched the yard.

“I’m here, Mother,” she called back. Her mother’s confusion quickly turned to fear. Cap gave another sharp bark and her mother’s searching eyes found her. Instead of the anger she had expected, she saw relief and fear written on her mother’s features. If anything, that scared her more. She looked frantically toward the north field, and saw her father racing back toward the house. Buck was stretched out in a full run, the fastest she had ever seen the horse move. The sky above her began to darken, and she heard herself cry out in fear.

The entire world began to slow. Jala saw her mother running toward her with outstretched arms, beckoning Jala down from the tree. Behind her, she could see Becka rushing back into the house with the wailing baby clutched tightly in her arms. Her dog was barking frantically below. She heard the thundering hoof beats of her father’s racing horse. It all faded a bit. The air about her seemed alive and grasping, and the sky continued to darken. She felt a sharp pain on her chest, and looked down to see the amulet glowing brightly as the entire world crashed back into full speed.

The sky gave a deafening roar louder than any thunder she had ever heard and then a bright flash blinded her to the surrounding world. She felt a moment of vertigo and realized she was falling, with a cry of alarm as she twisted to land on her back. The ground seized her roughly, and she felt the wind knocked out of her. She was still blinded from the flash her eyes refusing to focus. The area around her was as silent as death.

She blinked, willing her eyes to work and felt tears welling up. She wasn’t hurt from the fall; perhaps a few bruises but nothing more. It wasn’t pain that brought the tears; it was fear. Her mother should have reached her by now. She should hear her father’s horse. There shouldn’t be this silence. The world should be chaos right now, not still and utterly silent. A sob burst from her throat and the noise filled the void as loudly as the thunderclap had a moment before. There was no answer to her cry. Her mother didn’t gather her up as she was supposed to. Her father wasn’t there as he should have been.

The world around her slowly came back into focus, and she didn’t recognize any of it. Everything was black. The house was gone, the yard, the tree she had been in a moment ago, all of it, gone. The ground around her was covered in ash, a thick layer of it, with more falling from the sky like grey snow. She stood slowly on shaking legs and scanned the area around her frantically. Vast, black, and empty. No sign of her mother or her father or even Cap. It was all simply gone. Her mind labored to digest what her eyes were seeing. Light filled the sky once again, followed by a heavy rumbling that actually sounded like thunder this time. Rain began to pelt down over her. She knew she should find shelter, but there was nothing. She felt herself begin to tremble from both fear and chill due to the icy rain. Too cold for this late in the spring. She scanned the horizon again, pleading with any of the gods that would listen, to see her father. “Daddy!” she called into the pitch, her voice quavering loudly. A low rumble of thunder was her only answer. “Momma!” she called, her voice more frantic. She strained her ears for anything, a bark from Cap, a yell from her father. Desperate, she called again. “Momma! Daddy!” Another sob burst from her chest and her tears ran down her cheeks as much as the icy rain.

She stood for what seemed like hours sobbing and staring, and feeling all hope drain away. She was alone, and she didn’t even know what had happened. There had been a flash and then this. How could an entire world just vanish? Maybe she had been taken instead. It made more sense to think she had been stolen by magic, than her entire world had been stolen. Easier to believe she had been whisked off. Her mind froze. Whisked off, to where? She looked around again at the bleak, empty landscape covered in ash. She sniffled heavily again. In all of the stories she had ever heard at the hearth, from her father or from the Walker boys, the only place this reminded her of was the Darklands. Father said those who are dark and cruel of heart went to the Darklands when they were dead. The Walker boys said demons roamed the Darklands tormenting the souls of the damned.

She felt herself tremble again. She wasn’t dead, though, and she wasn’t dark of heart. She might be dead if she had fallen wrong and landed on her head or neck. She didn’t feel dead, but then she didn’t really know how death felt. She shook her head in dismay and sought her mind frantically for another reason. She wasn’t dead she decided firmly. And if this was the Darklands, Father would come and get her and fix everything. He always fixed everything. And he had been a soldier. He had said so. So no demons would stop him. He would cut them down and ride up any minute. All she had to do was wait.

She sat down and tried to ignore the icy rain, and forced herself to be brave. That itself was getting harder to do. She couldn’t remember ever being so scared, and no nightmare she had ever had was half as frightening as this. She couldn’t remember ever being alone before. Even at night, she had Cap with her. He was trying to warn me, she realized with a sniffle. Blackjack had run, but Cap had stayed and tried to warn her. She felt tears grow heavy in her eyes again and bit her lower lip.

Be brave and wait, Daddy will fix it, she whispered to herself. Maybe if she had stayed with Blackjack instead of climbing the tree, he would have carried her away from whatever spell had brought her here. It had to be magic. That was the only thing it could have been. A dark evil spell, just like in the stories.

She folded her arms across her knees and rested her forehead on her arms. She closed her eyes and shivered, trying to force herself to think of something other than the cold and how scared she was. She wasn’t sure what else she could do, and mother always said when you are lost, stay in the same spot and someone will find you. By now, she was sure she was lost. It made more sense than the entire world was lost. She kept her mind from focusing on details such as why anyone would steal her away. She didn’t want to examine closely the logic of her decision. That path held too many options she didn’t want to consider. Hers was a better one. In hers, the world was still as it should be, and her father was coming to rescue her. She steadied herself and began to piece the story together in her mind. Her father had been a soldier, and he had thwarted the plans of a Sorcerer. So for revenge, the evil Sorcerer had stolen her away. As she pieced the story together, she felt herself warming to the idea that her father was the hero of this, and that heroes always won.

Chapter 2

Northern Merro

She’d convinced herself completely by the time she heard the voice. Her head came up quickly, and she scanned the rain for the source of it. It was too distant to tell if it was father or not, so she stayed silent. Mother had warned her about strangers too, but she wasn’t really sure if that warning applied right now. Anyone would be better than no one, unless of course it was the evil Sorcerer, she reasoned.

“There is nothing out here.” It was a man’s voice, and not one she recognized. She could see two figures dimly through the rain. One large and white, a huge horse, far bigger than Buck even. The other was a smaller, darker beast. She could barely make out the riders and other than they were both cloaked, she couldn’t make out any details. The smaller horse could be Buck, she supposed. He looked darker when his coat was wet. She stood slowly, and some part of her mind noticed how numb she had become. She shrugged the thought off as quickly as it had come, and moved slowly toward the horses. In this weather, it wouldn’t be hard to get close enough to them without them noticing her.

“Just a bit farther, humor me.” A second voice called back, thickly accented with a bit of a musical quality.

“A bit farther of cold rain and ash for nothing,” the first speaker grumbled. She was close enough now to tell he was the darker horse’s rider, and that was definitely not Buck. The horse was black with no sign of white on him at all. And by the set of his ears he was in a mood as dark as his coat. She took care not to approach too closely, and turned her attention to the large white one. He was bigger than even father’s plow horses. He was coated with bright and shiny metal coverings from the nape of his neck and shoulders to the chain mail across his back. She had never seen a warhorse before. In the stories they were fierce. This one didn’t look fierce, though, because his ears were forward and his gait lively. She was still trying to decide if she should call out or not when the white horse stopped and turned his head to regard her. She stared back at him in shock. She hadn’t moved nor made a sound since she had crept closer. He shouldn’t be able to smell her through the rain. And yet there he was, staring at her with ears pricked forward. He gave a soft nicker, and she heard his rider chuckle.

“And there we are. Avalanche has found something.” He swung lightly down from his horse, and Jala noted the metal that flashed beneath it. He wore armor, as well. He must be a knight. Only knights had warhorses and armor. Maybe father had sent him to find her.

“What has he found, would be the question,” the second rider growled back.

“A child, and a lost one, so don’t be snide, Havoc.” He knelt down a few feet from her as he spoke, and pulled his cloak down despite the rain, so she could have a look at his face. He gave her a moment before speaking and her eyes traveled over his face. He was handsome with smooth features and large green eyes the color of spring leaves. His hair was cut short in military fashion, and his ears were slightly pointed.

“You’re an elf!” she blurted before she could stop herself. His companion gave a snort of amusement and smiled at her.

“No elf would be caught in this weather or place. They have better sense than that,” the man on the dark horse muttered.

“I’m not exactly an elf, but I can explain that later.” He glanced back toward his companion and shook his head in silent rebuke. “My name is Victory, this is Avalanche.” He motioned toward the horse and then to his companion as he continued. “And that is Havoc, my traveling companion.” He offered his hand to her in greeting.

“Did you really just introduce your horse before me?” Havoc asked in a tone of disgust. “You know most people don’t even introduce horses.”

“In order of importance, my dear friend, so yes, Avalanche comes first,” Victory replied smoothly. Havoc gave a grunt in reply and Jala felt herself relax a bit. Neither of them was acting much like an evil sorcerer.

“My name is Jaladene,” she replied, trying to sound older by using her full name. It sounded odd to her, though, so she hastily added, “Mother and father call me Jala, though.” She looked around at the bleakness and looked back to Victory. “Did my father send you to find me?” she asked hopefully.

Victory frowned for the briefest of moments. “No, he didn’t send me, but now that I have found you, I would like to help.” He offered his hand again, and she took it hesitantly. He squeezed her fingers lightly and frowned again. “Far too cold, child! Let’s get you on Avalanche and out of this rain.” He stood gracefully and lifted her onto the massive horse. “Havoc, give me your spare cloak,” he called over his shoulder before mounting behind her.

Wordlessly the other man dug through his pack and produced a dark bundle of cloth. “Not sure how dry it is Vic, not much is dry in this mess,” he said, tossing it lightly to the knight. Victory caught it easily and wrapped it around her. It smelled of horse and sweat, and reminded her a bit of her father. She felt herself relax further and realized how cold she truly was. Her teeth chattered lightly, and Victory pulled her back against him. She tried to ignore the cold metal of his armor as he gathered the reins and urged his horse into a walk then to a trot.

“We need to get north as quickly as we can, for she is near frozen and needs shelter and a fire.”

“Nothing I’ll argue with,” Havoc replied turning his own horse to ride alongside them. “I’ve seen enough devastation and ash to last me a lifetime.”

“Would be that we never see it again,” Victory agreed. She felt herself drifting a bit as they talked, her mind becoming as numb as her body.

“I’d love to know how a child her size survived it, and no one else seems to have.” Havoc spoke quietly, and she fought to ignore what he was saying. “Didn’t Badger settle somewhere in these parts with that girl he saved? What was her name? Molly, Martha…” his voice trailed off.

“Maggie, her name was Maggie, and yes he did if I am judging the area right. It’s hard to tell with no landmarks.

“Hope to the gods he moved before the property value dropped.”

“He wouldn’t have. He was from Merro. I remember him talking of it often. He loved this land. The last that I heard, he was doing well for himself.” Victory spoke softly, and silence followed his words for a long while.

“Well then I hope his life was a happy one before this. He deserved it.” Havoc’s words were the last she heard before she drifted into sleep, trading one nightmare for another.

She awoke later, bundled heavily in blankets, and for the first few moments, she didn’t remember. In her sleep-fogged mind, she was at home in bed, and everything was normal. Then reality set in and she recognized the sound of fire cracking lightly and another sound of metal being sharpened. She could smell smoke and the scent of food cooking.

“She’s awake.” It was Havoc that spoke, though it took her a moment to recognize the voice. She felt her stomach clench and wanted desperately to wake up again and discover this new reality to be just another nightmare.

“I know, her breathing changed, and she isn’t tossing anymore. Give her a few minutes.” Victory’s voice was calm and quiet and almost as soothing as her father’s.

She slowly sat up and surveyed the small camp they had made. A few trees surrounded them, and the horses had been tethered to a picket nearby. Havoc sat leaning against one of the trees sharpening a sword. Victory was crouched near the fire tending meat on a spit with his back turned toward her. Neither wore cloaks any longer, and she could see them better in the fading daylight. Havoc had dark red hair trimmed short and was dressed in leathers. He had a slender build and deeply-tanned skin. Victory seemed a bit bigger with a thicker build throughout the shoulders. He had shed his armor and wore only a tunic and breeches now, but still seemed formidable despite the normal clothes. Both of them, she silently noted, had tattoos snaking up their left arms, just as her father had. The story she had made about this horrible day began to unravel as the truth became clearer.

She turned her attention back to the scenery and felt her heart sink further. She knew this place. It was the road to Brannaford. She’d been this way when her parents went to the market. Her eyes roamed toward the south, toward home. It was black and dark in that direction. At the border, where Merro met the Greenwild, a line seemed to be drawn. One side the country was dark and ash covered, and the Greenwild was still lush with deep grass. Where the road crossed the border it simply disappeared into blowing ash. It was as if Merro had simply been erased. “My family is dead, aren’t they?” She spoke quietly, just above a whisper. She didn’t want to hear the answer. She didn’t want to admit that the black wasteland was all that was left of her home.

“Most likely, Jala. Havoc and I rode most of Merro before we found you, and you were the only survivor we found.” Victory was watching her now with eyes full of sympathy. With a guarded expression, Havoc had stopped sharpening his blade and watched her too.

She felt tears welling again and didn’t think the knot in her stomach would ever go away. Her throat felt thick as she spoke again and she barely recognized her own voice. “My momma’s name was Maggie, and if Badger is what you called my daddy when he was a soldier, he was happy.” She sniffled slightly and wiped her tears away from her face. “He had tattoos on his arm like you both do, but he never talked about them. He was happy, though. We all were.” She fell silent and let the tears come as she stared down at her hands, wondering if she would ever be happy again. “What happened?” She asked through the sobs, not really expecting an answer.

“The High Lords had a disagreement. Most often it is the land that suffers when they do. Usually cities. This time, entire countries, both Merro and Veir, are lost,” Havoc answered. For the first time since they met, his voice was soft and gentle. “It isn’t right, and we do what we can to fix it when it happens, but this time there isn’t much we can do.” There was a note of disgust in his voice when he fell silent again.

“We can make sure Badger’s daughter is safe. She is one of ours, and there can be no doubt a higher power led us to her. There is no other way we could have stumbled across her as we did.”

“Agreed, but we can’t take her with us, Vic. Our path is not fit for a child. So what do we do with her then?”

“I know I’ve given it a bit of thought. The best I can come up with is an Aspectvar for now.” His tone was cautious as if he didn’t care much for the thought.

“Priests? You want to leave his daughter with priests?” Havoc sounded incredulous. He gave a snort of disgust and shook his head. “He will haunt you for that, I promise you.”

She gave a slight sob at his words and Victory cast him a sharp look. With a look of chagrin, Havoc gave her an apologetic shrug. She looked back down at her feet and tried to ignore them. She didn’t even know what an Aspectvar was and didn’t care much for the thought of them leaving her anywhere. She had just lost everything, and even the simple fact that they had known her father, reassured her.

“His sister was a priestess. I remember her well. She followed Fortune.”

Havoc gave another snort of disgust. “And look where that brought her. As I recall, she lived in Merro as well.”

“Damn it, Havoc, show a bit of compassion. We may be used to loss and the death of friends but the child is not. That is her family you speak of.” Victory’s voice was as sharp as his rebuke and silence once again followed.

Jala swallowed heavily and wiped the tears away again. “My Aunt Carissa was a priestess, she gave me this…” her voice trailed off as she tugged her tunic down a bit to pull out the amulet, which wasn’t there. She gave a slight cry as her hand brushed across her skin and pain flared. Dimly she remembered the amulet glowing before the flash. She brushed her hand across the skin winced again at the pain and tried to make sense of it. Had her amulet burned? And if so, why would it just burn?

“Here, let me see.” Victory had moved to her side at her cry of pain, and he carefully pulled her hand away. He studied the skin near her collarbone for a moment and waved Havoc over. “Here, have a look.” Havoc cast him a skeptical glance and moved closer, his expression changed as he saw the area Victory indicated.

“What’s Fortune playing at?” Havoc asked quietly.

Victory shrugged. “I’m not sure. But that’s about as clear an answer as you can get,” he replied.

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” Jala tried in vain to look down at the wound they were looking at, but it was at the wrong place on her chest for her to get a clear look at it.

“You have the mark of Fortune burned into your skin, child. It’s not a bad burn but the symbol is marked quite clear,” Victory answered, his expression thoughtful. “So Fortune claims you, and now all we need is to locate an Aspectvar of his.”

“I don’t know what an Aspectvar is, but he has a Temple near here. Aunt Carissa used to talk of it. It’s by a village called Bliss,” she said, trying to be helpful, even though her words condemned her to being left behind.

Victory smiled and leaned back. “An Aspectvar is what we call a Temple. We ourselves do not believe in gods. We call them Aspects. As they represent an aspect of life, such as Justice or Healing or Luck as in the case of Fortune.”

“Why don’t you believe in gods?” she asked, a bit dumbfounded at his words. She had never heard such blasphemy.

“Because we are Elder Blood and hold enough magic to be considered gods ourselves if we wished it. The only thing that separates us from your god, Fortune, is the path we choose to walk,” Havoc replied to the question. His voice was mild, and his manner did not seem that of a braggart. She eyed the two of them, trying to see the lie, if there was one. Victory simply nodded his agreement and moved back to the fire to check the meat. Havoc studied her for another moment, looking steadily at her eyes. “Did you notice her eyes are violet colored, Vic?”

“I did, and her hair appears to be a dark red under all that ash. She doesn’t have Badger’s coloring at all, or Maggie’s if I remember correctly. I only met her once. But she knows the names and the tattoos, so there can be no doubt.”

“Badger was half-blood, wasn’t he? And Maggie was commoner, right?” Havoc pressed, still looking her over. He waved his hand at her and muttered something quietly. She felt her skin tingle for a moment and looked down at herself in amazement. She was clean, entirely clean, and not just her, her clothing was spotless, as well. Her eyes widened, and she looked back up at Havoc. With a wave of his hand, he worked magic. No fancy spell casting like in the stories, just a simple wave as if he was shooing a fly away. “Pretty, too, once you get the dirt off,” he added.

Victory looked up from the meat thoughtfully. “Aye, Badger was a half-blood, and you are right about Maggie as well.” He glanced at her and gave her a smile. “And your point?”

“My point is she doesn’t look mortal. Her hair is more of a mulberry color than red, with a hint of purple. Neither are colors I’ve seen on a commoner before. She doesn’t look half-blood either, if anything she looks pure Elder Blood,” Havoc spoke quietly. His gaze finally left her as he turned to regard Victory fully.

“Could be a throwback from Badger’s line. Could be there was more to Maggie than he ever told us. I’m not sure, Havoc.” He was slicing meat off the skewer now and carefully handed her a plate. She looked thoughtfully at the food. She knew she should eat, but her stomach still felt tied in knots. “Doesn’t change what needs to be done though. Regardless, you are correct, our path is not fit for a child, and we must make sure she is safe. Be she Elder Blood, half-blood, or mortal, the Aspectvar is the best option that I see. And I like the idea of the one at Bliss, it’s out of the way, and she will likely be the safer for it.” He handed another plate to Havoc and added in a quieter voice. “Your observations do bear attention though. I’ll make a report to Caspian before we leave her and follow through with whatever he decides. It may be he will want her brought back to the Fortress. Badger served there for at least twenty years before he retired and I know Caspian was fond of him. He may want his daughter in sight and as safe as we can make her.”

Havoc gave a grunt and took a bite of meat. He chewed a moment before speaking. “Aspectvar is probably better than the fortress. That place would be worse for a child than traveling with us. Certainly not fit for a girl.”

“I’d rather go with you two,” she spoke meekly. She hated the thought of being left with strangers, even if they were priests. She watched them both closely for a reaction. Victory’s was obvious remorse. Havoc once again was impossible for her to read.

“Our road is not a good one, child. We fight often, and you would always be in danger were you with us,” Victory said.

“We will check out the Aspectvar close when we get there. Then make our decision, if the priest isn’t to our liking or the place doesn’t seem safe, we will find another option.” Havoc’s words surprised her and Victory as well, by her guess, if the way his head whipped around to look at his companion was any indication. Havoc gave him a shrug and took another bite of meat. “What? Badger was a friend, and I don’t like priests.” He shook his head, and turned his full attention back to his meal as if the matter was settled. Victory shook his head and shrugged at her and began to eat as well.

It was late the next day before they rode into Bliss. The village was little more than a few scattered houses sprawled near a crossroad. The Temple was the largest building and stood out among the houses as a hawk would among sparrows. While the other buildings had sod roofs, the Temple stood tall and proud with clay shingles, and seemed a neat, orderly place. She could see Fortune’s mark on the front of it, standing between two others she didn’t recognize.

“Love, Luck, and Healing. That’s a good sign,” Victory said.

“If you are a brainless twit. Give me Protection, War, and Healing, and I’ll feel the better for it, knowing that at least one in the building knows how to use a blade,” Havoc replied, his tone dry.

“For a child, I think love would be better than swords, don’t you?” Victory replied mildly.

“Depends on the love, I’ll have a good look at this priest before we ride off. If he so much as looks at her the wrong way, he’ll be a head shorter.” Havoc pulled his horse up in front of the Temple and dismounted.

“Bad luck to kill a priest, you know, especially when it’s a priest of Luck.” Victory smirked as he dismounted. Turning, he lifted Jala down from the horse as well.

“If I kill him, I have a reason. And if Fortune has a problem with my reason, he can bloody well take it up with me in person.”

Jala watched the two of them silently and followed Victory up the stairs to the Temple door. Although made of solid dark wood, the Temple door looked worn. There were faint images on it, as if it had once been carved, but they had faded past recognition, and she couldn’t tell what it had been a picture of.

“How about you let me judge his character. I’m not quite as harsh of a critic as you are and chances are I’ll find fewer reasons to dislike him. You have gotten rather protective in a single night. It’s really not like you at all, Havoc,” Victory said with a glance toward the Firym before pushing the door open.

“Kid has had it rough enough. You asked me for compassion and you are getting it. Why are you complaining?” Havoc asked, with an annoyed look.

She followed them wordlessly into the Temple’s dim interior, quietly hoping Havoc didn’t like the priest. Not enough to kill him, but enough that he wouldn’t leave her here.

“I’m not complaining. I’m simply not used to your caring about such matters,” Victory clarified.

“I care, just not as much other times,” Havoc objected. He looked around the main room and back to Victory. “Should be a bit more attentive toward their own Temple, shouldn’t they? How are they going to keep track of a small child when they don’t even notice when people have entered the building?”

“Patience, Havoc!” Victory chided with a bit of amusement.

The door in the back of the hall pushed open as he spoke and an older man made his way through it. He was dressed in old, but tidy robes, and his hair was gone to white with age. He moved slowly and his expression seemed kind as he approached.

“Oh he will never keep up with her,” Havoc scoffed as he watched the man approach. The Firym looked ready to leave at just the sight of the priest.

Victory elbowed him into silence and smiled to the approaching priest. “Greetings, Father,” he called.

“And a warm welcome to you, Son. How may our Temple be of help to you and yours?” The old man replied.

She thought she heard Havoc mutter something but couldn’t make out the words. Moving closer, she stood beside him and gazed up, hoping he would pick her up and leave this place. It wasn’t that the Temple looked like a bad place. She simply didn’t want them to leave her. They had known her father, and that made them more than strangers.

“I would have a word in private with you, if there is no objection,” Victory replied smoothly. She saw Havoc’s mouth fall open to object, but a simple look from Victory kept him silent. The old priest nodded, and she watched him and Victory disappear back through the door.

Havoc gave a sigh and dropped heavily onto a pew and looked to her. “You know he did that so I couldn’t find something wrong with him, right?” He asked with another sigh. She nodded and sat down on the pew opposite of him. She split her gaze between Havoc and the door and folded her hands in her lap. She still silently prayed that they wouldn’t leave her here. “You are tough, kid, I’ll give you that. Most would be wailing right now.” He stretched his feet out in front of him and crossed them and leaned fully back on the bench.

“I think I ran out of tears. I still feel like crying, but they just ran out,” she replied quietly. In truth, her head ached from all of her tears the day before. Her stomach felt wrong, and her throat still felt tight. She didn’t think she had ever felt this miserable.

He looked at her and nodded. “I’ve had days like that, a lot of them lately. Seems like the world will never be right again. It will be though. You can’t have the light without the dark. And while it may seem the darkest right now, kid, you will see light again. If you are Badger’s girl, you will be tough enough to see it through. He never gave up, and always kept fighting, no matter how dark it was.”

She remembered her father racing down the hill running straight toward the danger, and she felt her eyes mist again. Not true tears only going glassy. She nodded slowly in reply. She wasn’t sure if she could get words past the lump in her throat.

Havoc watched her and to her shock his eyes were glassy, as well. “Badger was a friend. Not a close friend, but he saved my life more than once. If you have need in the future, Kid, look me up. Same for Victory. Be careful who you ask about us, but if you are in true need, find us and we will help.”

“You think he is going to leave me then?” She asked in a whisper.

He nodded and looked back toward the door. “I’m not sure what Caspian said to him when they spoke last night, but he has been back there too long for it to be otherwise. He wouldn’t leave you in a bad place, though, kid. If you are staying, you will be safe. Victory was closer with Badger than I was, and he will do right by his child.”

She frowned at his words. She hadn’t seen anyone talk to Victory but perhaps she had been asleep. “Why do you call Daddy that? His name was Toby, why do you call him Badger?” She asked.

Havoc shrugged a bit and gave another sigh. “We have many names in life, girl. The first our mother gives us, then as we grow we might get a nickname from family.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m guessing that yours was probably Curly.

She gave a slight nod. “Daddy called me that sometimes,” she admitted.

“The last name you earn. Some never earn one. Those that seek to change things, do. You gain a reputation, you gain a name. My mother didn’t give me the name of Havoc. I earned it through deeds.” He gave her a rueful smile. “As you can tell, they were not the best of deeds, but I stand behind what I have done in life. Your father earned the name Badger for his tenacity. He never quit, and he never gave up, no matter the odds. He might have been smaller than whatever he was facing, but that would just make him fight harder, like a badger protecting its den.”

The door across the hall opened and Victory emerged, followed closely by the old priest. They both smiled at her in that way adults had that was meant to reassure. She didn’t feel reassured at all by it.

“Jala, this is Father Belson. He is going to look after you now. There are two other priests here as well, but they travel often and aren’t here at the moment. He is the Speaker for Fortune here, though, and he will act as your guardian.” Victory motioned toward the old man, and he moved forward.

“May Fortune bless you child, and you are most welcome here.” He gave her another smile and looked to Havoc. “I understand you have doubts of leaving the child here. I give you my word she will have the best care I can offer.”

Havoc raised an eyebrow at the old man and snorted. “She best. I’ll check back and if anything is amiss Fortune will need a new priest.” His words were not spoken with anger, but words filled with facts

Victory sighed and leaned over to give Jala a light hug and kiss on the forehead. “Keep safe child and learn what you can.” He stood and looked down at her with a sad smile. “May our paths cross again in better times.” He looked back toward Havoc and motioned to the door before he headed that way himself.

Havoc looked away from the priest and down at her. “I’m not the hugging sort,” he said gruffly and unbuckled a small knife from his worn leather belt. “And this isn’t the sort of gift one usually gives a small girl. But you keep it. It’s mine, and I’ve kept it with me for long enough that it knows it’s mine.” She looked down at the small knife he offered and wondered how a knife could know anything. It was pretty in design with a large red gem set in the worn hilt. “You ever need us, a decent mage can find me by that knife. Keep it safe and keep yourself safe.” She took the knife from him with a slight nod and he ruffled her hair and turned to follow Victory out into the bright sunlight. “Don’t forget my words, Priest, I won’t,” he called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

Outside the Temple, Victory waited already mounted Avalanche. He was watching the Temple with an expression that made Havoc pause mid step. “You look like you just did something very bad Victory,” Havoc said cautiously. “What did you just do and will I have to kill you for it?”

Victory looked over at him and shook his head. “I’m not really sure what I just did, Havoc, and I don’t know if you need to kill me yet or not. Only time will tell on that matter.”

Havoc’s eyes narrowed and he looked back to the Temple doors before turning his gaze back to Victory. “You will explain that before I even think of getting on my horse.” His hand had dropped to the hilt of his sword, and his tone was dangerous and quiet. “You know I hate priests and this wasn’t something I liked to begin with.”

“It’s not the priest, Havoc. I found nothing wrong with Father Belson. It was Caspian. When I spoke with him in the mind link last night, I explained everything. I showed him the girl and told him of the mark. He was so quiet I thought I had lost the link. When he did speak again, he told me to bring the girl here and leave her. He told me to have the priest keep her well away from the troubles of the world.” He rubbed his jaw and frowned.

“Can’t say that’s a bad thing considering what the world is. There are times I’d rather if left me alone as well,” Havoc replied, his tone cautious. “Out with the rest of it, though. That’s not the whole of it or you wouldn’t be bothered.”

Victory’s frown deepened. “He told me to leave coin enough for the girl to be well provided for, and to leave instruction with the priests. When she reaches age, she is to be sent to the Academy in Sanctuary for first circle training.”

Havoc’s expression changed from caution to confusion. “Why would Badger’s daughter need first circle training?” he asked.

“Exactly!” Victory agreed. “So you see my difficulty. I’m not sure what I just did to that child’s future or why I did it. But I have my orders and must follow them.” He turned his horse and with one last glance rode away from Bliss. Havoc frowned and mounted his own horse. “Bugger orders, Caspian will explain this when we get back to the fortress,” he grumbled and followed after Victory, ignoring the nagging feeling in his guts that he wouldn’t like the explanation.

Chapter 3

Bliss

Ten years later.

Jala woke with a start and fought off the last hints of the nightmare. It had been a long while since she’d had one and the experience left her a bit shaken. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and noted by the light streaming through the window that she had overslept. She sat up with a groan and wondered why Gretchen hadn’t banged on her door yet. The surly housekeeper was never shy about waking her up. Her breath fogged in the early morning air and she cringed at the thought of leaving the warm quilts or putting her bare feet down on the cold tiles. Bits of her dream crept back to her as she sat there. Unlike the ones she’d had as a child, this one had been more from memory than fantasy. It had been forever since she had remembered that day. She had tried to push it to the back of her mind. It still hurt to remember. After all this time, even the bark of a dog was like a razor if the memories were too close.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and crawled out of bed. As she had expected, the floor was icy beneath her bare feet. She quickly dressed, changing from her sleeping shift to the first dress that met her hand in her meager closet. She pulled her boots on soon after and crossed the small room to the basin and mirror that waited on the dresser. Her eyes were blurry as she splashed the water on her face and the shock of it banished the ghosts from her mind. She looked up from the basin and studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there were faint dark circles under them. Her hair was a mess of curls as always but for all that she still looked pretty, if in a worn, tired way. She smiled ruefully and tried to pull her brush through her tangled hair. She rolled her eyes as it began to frizz and sighed heavily. On a good day, her hair was her best feature. This was not going to be a good day. With practiced ease, she began to work it into a tidy braid, choosing to ignore the few wild strands that escaped her work. She was tying it off with a ribbon when the first bang of a fist hit her door. “I’m up,” she called over her shoulder before Gretchen could bellow her displeasure.

“And plenty late about it, too, have you forgotten what today is?” The old woman’s voice was muffled through the door, but not by much. Gretchen could match voice with the best of them and leave many wanting.

She cursed herself under her breath. She had forgotten what day it was. Her mind had been filled with memories and she hadn’t even given anything else a thought. She was leaving the Temple today. They had been preparing for it all week by sewing new dresses and packing. She felt the lump rise again. She was going to the Academy today, whether she liked it or not. Father Belson had been firm about it when she had objected to leaving. It had already been arranged, and that was all he would say on the matter. She loved the old man like a grandfather, but the answer made her want to choke him. Arranged? She had not been asked about it at all, not even consulted.

“The coach will be here any moment, Jala, and you’ve still not even eaten. At this rate, you’ll be taking breakfast on the road with you,” Gretchen called through the door again, and Jala felt her nerves fraying. While she loved the old priest, she certainly did not love Gretchen. The old woman was a sour thing.

“I’ll be out in just a minute,” she called back trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She didn’t want a fight with Gretchen today. Really she just wanted to crawl back into bed, but if she did, the housekeeper would just pound away on the door until she either opened it or the wood surrendered and crumbled before the assault. With a muttered curse, she buckled her belt around her waist. It wasn’t exactly a feminine addition to her outfit, but it was practical. Two pouches hung from one side. One swayed heavily, with small odd pieces that proved helpful, while the other hung much lighter and held the few coins she owned. She buckled the small knife onto the other side and paused to run her thumb across the red gem. She briefly thought of seeking Havoc but didn’t think being sent to school would qualify as a crisis to him so she quickly dismissed the thought. She pulled her cloak on last. It was faded to a dull grey, and most would have thrown it out, given how tattered the ends of it were. But it was the cloak they had wrapped her in when they found her, and she would keep it until it gave away to threads.

She glanced at herself in the mirror again and wondered briefly at her image. She was pretty. She knew that without vanity. Her face was smooth; her skin a pale cream with full lips the color of roses. Her hair and eyes were unique. She had never seen anyone with the same color. She frowned at the thought. Her father’s hair had been a dark brown with warm golden brown eyes. Her mother’s hair had been dark as well only a shade or two lighter than black and her eyes had been a clear hazel. She could see neither of her parents in the face that stared back at her from the mirror. Her mind was not as clear on her memory of her younger brother, she hated to admit, but he had been small, and she had been so young. She could remember his hair had been dark, though, and while she couldn’t remember his eyes, she was sure they hadn’t been violet.

She gave a heavy sigh and smoothed her dress. It was one of her favorites, she noted, amazed that she hadn’t even noticed which she had put on. It was worn from use, but it was comfortable and gave her the appearance of having more curves than the gods had seen fit to grant. The deep blue color of it made her seem paler too, which suited her dark hair well. Almost drawing attention away from my bloodshot eyes she thought with a smirk. The banging came at the door again, and she eyed the reflection of the dress in the mirror darkly. If only the door could hit back, she mused silently. “I’m coming,” she called as she crossed the room. She gave a last look at the room that had been her home for the past ten years and stepped through the door.

Gretchen towered above her in the hall, her gaze that of a storm cloud. The old woman was huge, bigger than most men. Her brown hair going more to grey was pulled back in its customary tight bun giving her an even more severe appearance. She eyed Jala critically with her hands on her hips, her expression clearly disapproving. “Look at you in that ratty cloak and that dress. You think to be off like that? What will they say about the Temple if I let you leave here looking an urchin?”

Jala could think of a few things she would like to say of the Temple housekeeper, but she bit her tongue and simply frowned. Fighting with Gretchen was a daily event she would rather avoid. If she must leave, she would rather do it on good terms. “I grabbed the first one in my closet,” she replied honestly yet the old woman’s gaze did not waver. “I’ll change before I get to the academy, of course, and surely these old worn clothes are best for traveling. The coach is sure to be dusty, and I wouldn’t want to ruin one we have just sewn.” With relief, she watched Gretchen’s expression soften a fraction.

“See that you do, now off with you. You’ve overslept by far, and you have goodbyes to make.” Grateful for the dismissal, Jala made her way down the hall. She stopped in the kitchen and leaned on the counter. The burly old cook looked up at her with a sad smile. “Off to the big wide world today eh, Curly?”

She smiled back at him and gave a mute nod.

“Best get some breakfast for you then. I’ve made tarts over there by the stove.” He motioned with a flour-covered hand before returning to kneading the dough in front of him.

She picked up a tart and smiled as the sweet blackberry aroma greeted her. She took a small bite and wiped some juice from her chin. They were still warm from the oven and delicious. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I will miss how you spoil me.” She had no doubts he had made the tarts special for her.

“Aye, and I’ll miss having you to spoil. Not a one of them brags on my cooking like you do,” he said with forced cheer.

“Are Father Timmons and Father Breckard back yet?” She asked between bites. He gave a slight shake of his head in answer and she found herself unsurprised. The two younger priests were rarely in attendance at the Temple. They traveled from village to village throughout all of Greenwild and tended to just winter in Bliss.

“I’ll tell them you said goodbye, though,” the cook added, dusting his hands off on his apron. “You want some milk with that?” He asked, already moving to pour her a glass despite her lack of answer. She took the glass and a healthy swallow, and then finished her tart. “I’ll pack you a couple of those for the road. One will never keep you. I know how you love your tarts.”

She smiled at him and gave him a hug before he could busy himself again. She finished her milk and gave him another quick hug as he handed her the bundled food and turned to leave. “Goodbye, and thank you again.”

He gave her another faint smile and nodded. “You’ll be back before we know it, Curly, and full of stories of the big city.”

She made her way down the hall toward the chapel room, brushing her hand lightly at the flour dusting her dress. Father Belson was exactly where she had expected him to be, kneeling before the altar deep in prayer. She stood back silent not wanting to disturb him. She idly wondered if he was praying for her and a safe journey.

She heard the sound of a throat clearing behind her and started. She hadn’t noticed anyone else in the chapel when she had entered. Her eyes landed on a young man a little older than her. He sat in a slouch with his feet propped up on the pew in front of him. He wore a dark suit that was well tailored and fit him perfectly. His dark blond hair was trimmed neatly, and he was the most handsome man she had seen since Victory and Havoc had left her here. In short, he was definitely a stranger. “Pardon, Sir, I hadn’t noticed you there. May I be of assistance while good Father Belson is occupied?”

He seemed to ponder her words and shook his head. “Nope, I’m here to see you, not him.” She raised an eyebrow at the response, but he ignored her obvious look of question. “You know in other cities, Temples to Fortune are more like fest halls than actual Temples.” He fidgeted on the seat slightly, as if seeking a more comfortable position. “They have padded chairs and gaming tables and lively girls serving drinks while you play cards.” He lit a cigarette and fidgeted again, ignoring her disapproval at his smoking.

“That doesn’t sound much like a church,” she muttered, unsure of this new topic, as she tried to think of a polite way to get him to put out the cigarette without raising a fuss.

“No, it isn’t really, and it’s a great racket. With every roll of the dice or flick of a card, they pay me homage without even realizing it. If they had to sit on benches this hard, the only thing they would be praying for would be a new god or a new ass.”

“Did you say pay homage to you?” She emphasized the last word and watched him carefully trying to determine if he was playing a joke or was simply mad.

“Mmm hmmm, I sure did. I’ve come to see you off to the Academy and offer you words of advice and encouragement.” He seemed unaware of her pending judgment on his sanity and simply smiled at her. “Probably for the best that you are going to the Academy, you would have made a lousy priest since you can’t recognize your own god,” he added when she remained silent.

“I’m not sure how I could recognize you as we have never met before.” She glanced back over her shoulder as she spoke, hoping Father Belson would have noticed the odd exchange by now and be on his way to rescue her from the obvious madman.

“He can’t see or hear us,” the man said.

She frowned and stared after Father Belson who didn’t seem to be showing any reaction to the conversation behind him. “Why can’t he?” She asked, with concern for the old man in her voice. He didn’t seem to be hurt, but perhaps the man had drugged him.

“Because I stopped time. You overslept and we needed time to talk, so I stopped time to make time.” He smiled happily at his own wordplay and motioned toward Father Belson. “Go ahead poke him, he won’t move or even notice.”

She watched Father Belson for another minute and turned back to look at the madman. “OK, I’ll play along for now. You are Fortune, the God of Luck, and you have come to give me advice.”

The young man frowned at her. “That is actually more of statement of fact, than playing,” he said dryly.

She nodded, still skeptical and motioned for him to speak. “So what advice would you offer?” she asked when he remained silent.

He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. “Not very reverent, are you?” He waved his hand as if in dismissal and continued on without waiting for a reply. “Not entirely advice, as I said. I bring encouragement too.” He reached into his jacket and produced a heavy satin pouch and tossed it to her. It clinked of coins when she caught it, and he smiled at her disbelief. “Encouragement in the form of coins; which is always more useful than encouragement in the form of words.”

“But I have coins,” she objected, unsure as to why a stranger would appear, proclaiming himself to be a god and give her money. This encounter was getting too strange for her comfort.

“Not enough and the wrong type. You have a few silver, and that is a lot of gold,” he replied simply. Her eyes widened she had never even seen a gold coin before and this pouch was quite full. “You aren’t really going dressed like that, are you?” Fortune asked while she was still staring dumbly at the pouch.

“I have other clothes in my trunks,” she replied absently as she slowly returned her attention to focus on him. “And Father Belson said the school would provide uniforms if I needed more clothes,” she added.

“Uniforms?” He sounded offended at the word. “Uniforms are for the children too poor to provide their own clothes. You will not be wearing uniforms.”

She bit back her reply before she could state the obvious that she was, in fact, a child too poor to provide her own clothes. “I’m sure they aren’t that bad.”

He made a sputtering sound and shook his head. “I’m sure they aren’t that good either. I can see now it was necessary that I show up, you obviously don’t know what you are getting into.”

She frowned at him in indignation. “I’m going to the school to learn. I fail to see how it will matter what I wear, as long as I’m learning,” she replied, her tone perhaps a bit too tart.

He nodded sagely and gave her a sad smile. “You are going to learn far more than the school has to teach, Jala.” He took another drag from the cigarette, and she noted with shock that it hadn’t diminished at all since he had lit it. Part of it should have gone to ash by now, but it hadn’t. He noticed her eyes locked on the cigarette and sighed dramatically. “I stop bloody time and you ignore it. My cigarette doesn’t ash, and you are amazed. I will never understand mortal logic.” He waved the cigarette before her lazily. “Wooooo… behold my godly power. Can you return your attention back to me now, please, this is important?” She fought back her irritation again and nodded curtly. She wasn’t sure how much longer her patience would hold with the man. This joke was getting old fast, she thought.

“It’s not a joke, Jala.” His tone was serious, and his smile was gone. She stared at him. She hadn’t spoken, and her expression hadn’t changed. He was replying to her thoughts. “That’s right, I can hear you thinking, and it’s very loud and rather offensive. I might be eccentric, but I’m certainly not mad.”

She felt the color draining from her face, as she considered the possibility this might actually be Fortune sitting before her. He nodded his approval. “There we go. You are starting to think clearly.”

She felt her legs giving way, and sat down heavily on a pew across from him. She simply stared at him, wondering, Why would a god bother to come and speak with me directly? I am a Temple orphan. I am no one important, no one to merit this sort of attention, to be sure.

“Now stop that. You are important or I wouldn’t be here,” he chided gently. “You have a lot to learn, Jala, and your lessons start here. The Academy is not going to be at all like what you are expecting.” He paused to make sure he had her attention. “And bear in mind I know exactly what you are expecting since I can see right into your thoughts.” She nodded dumbly, and he continued. “Everything you do there will be watched. What you wear, what you eat, who you talk to. It will all be watched, and you will be judged accordingly. You must be careful about how you act and what you do.” Her confusion grew further, and she opened her mouth to object, but he motioned her back to silence. “You will be among the High Lords’ children there, and they will not make your life easy. Most of them are rude, and almost all of them will be snobs, but you must try to be on good terms with them. It’s important. Trust me on this. I’m your god, and I do know things better than you do. They will not make it easy, but it would be best if you try to befriend them.”

She snorted in disbelief and shook her head. How was she supposed to befriend them, she doubted they would even notice her.

“They will notice you, have no doubt of that,” Fortune replied, and once again she was unnerved by his response to her thoughts. “Easier, this way saves time,” he said with a smile. “Not that we are lacking for that, however, so if you would like to speak, feel free to, but chances are I will know it before you say it.” He gave her another smile and winked.

She wondered idly if he realized how irritating it was, having someone answer your thoughts before you chose to speak them. His smile dwindled. “Fine, you want mental privacy it’s yours. Now, whatever you are going to say will be a mystery to both of us.” He snapped in a mildly-annoyed tone.

Wonderful, she mused I’ve angered the God of Luck. That’s surely going to end well for me. “I’m sorry, I’m just unused to people being in my mind,” she tried lamely.

He gave a slight grunt and rolled his eyes at her. “Obviously, as loudly as you think.”

She wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so she ignored it. “Was that the only advice you had to give, Sir, to watch everything I do and try to befriend the mean kids?”

“Now you Sir. Pfffftttt.” The noise was completely undignified and not at all what one would expect from a god and she repressed a chuckle. “You’ve got me all off track. Let’s see. Manners, money, and clothes.” He ticked the points off on his fingers as he spoke. “I’ve taken the liberty of updating your wardrobe; all of the clothing has been altered to something more suitable. But now that I think on it, it’s been done with magic so be wary of dispelling magics.” He frowned and tapped his chin. “I sincerely doubt anyone there has stronger magic than me, but in the off chance that they do, run away if they start to dispel, or you will find yourself quite naked.”

“Naked!” She gasped, eyeing him alarmingly, hoping there would be some indication he was joking. Her mind whirled with the endless possibilities that this would have a horrible outcome for her. What if she was in the market and someone dispelled nearby her. What if it happened in the Academy in a crowd? She cringed inwardly at every imagined horror.

He simply nodded and repeated, “Naked,” with a smile as if it was no particular problem.

“Can’t you just change it back and give me back my old clothes that aren’t made of magic?” She pleaded.

“Nope, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. You needed new ones.”

“Those were new ones,” she protested her tone somewhat desperate.

He nodded. “But not good ones. They were very…” he paused as if searching for the word and then continued his tone delicate. “Rustic. There that’s a good choice I think. They were very rustic. Somewhat like the dress you currently wear. Your clothes proclaimed to the world, ‘I am a peasant.’ We don’t want that.”

“But I am a peasant,” she continued, her frustration fueling her words.

He shook his head. “No you aren’t.”

She waited for him to elaborate and growled her frustration at his silence. “Saying something doesn’t change what it is. You can say I’m not a peasant all you like, but it won’t change the fact that I am.”

He shook his head at her again and gave her another irritating smile. “You can say a thing is not a thing, and only the ignorant will believe you. I can say you are whatever I like and everyone will believe me, because they are, in fact, ignorant as to what you really are. Almost as ignorant, in fact, as you yourself are.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him trying to decipher his words. She wasn’t sure if she had been insulted or not but she strongly suspected she had. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to calmness. Her outlooks for school were not getting any brighter, and more than ever she wanted to go crawl back into bed. “Will there be anyone I know there? Victory or Havoc maybe?” She asked hopefully. When Father Belson had first announced she would be going to Sanctuary it had been her first thought. The city was supposed to be the center of everything, and they traveled often.

He gave a snort of amusement. “The Fionaveir in Sanctuary? Not bloody likely. Not those two at any rate. There may be a couple in the city, but none that you will notice.”

“The what? I don’t know that word.”

“Fionaveir, it’s an order. I suppose that’s what you would call it. Order, a group of people all following one particular goal. In the case of the Fionaveir, it’s the pursuit of justice despite what the law has to say on the matter. I believe most call the sort Vigilantes.” He watched her expression and nodded. “Yes, I do believe I see your understanding. The Hall of the Justicars lies in Sanctuary. So a large group of vigilantes would be doing good to stay far away from the city lest they find themselves in a hangman’s noose. This, in the case of the Elder Bloods, wouldn’t do much more than annoy them. It takes more than a noose to kill an Immortal.

“So, I shouldn’t ask anyone about them either,” she added with a sigh. So much for hiring a mage to locate them if she ever needed help.

“Exactly, you shouldn’t mention them and you shouldn’t mention where you are really from. Both would be bad. If asked, say you are from Bliss. For the most part, it won’t be a lie. You’ve spent more of your life here than you did in Merro.”

“Why would it matter where I was from? Merro doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s a wasteland. No one even calls it Merro anymore they call it the Southern Wastes. And why would anyone but a peasant be from Bliss?” She demanded.

“Everyone from Merro is supposed to be dead, so let them all stay dead for a while longer. You will know when it’s time to tell your secrets. Until then, be the Temple girl from Bliss. As far as the peasant part goes, you won’t act, dress, or look like a peasant. So they will be asking themselves that very same question why would someone other than a peasant claim to be from Bliss. It adds a nice little bit of mystery.” His tone was gentle but firm, and she nodded her agreement, though she still didn’t understand.

“Why do they call themselves that? Fionaveir is an odd name. My father was one of them wasn’t he? I mean Havoc and Victory said he was, but you would know the truth of it, right?”

Fortune nodded slowly and seemed to consider his words before he spoke. “He was, and a very good one at that. He retired with honors and the blessings of their leaders. Most Fionaveir do not retire. Most find death in service, but your father was an exception. He found love rather than death. Saved a merchant’s girl and ended up married.” He took another drag off his cigarette and shrugged. “Don’t suppose it can hurt to tell you of them and it will save you from asking others.”

He paused again and she settled back awaiting his words. He was about to explain what had been a mystery to her as long as she could remember. She tried to hide her eagerness for the story as he cleared his throat and began in a soft clear voice.

“Fiona Veirasha was a Justicar about three hundred years ago. The order had been formed some time before she became a member. Despite how all believe it represents Justice, it actually provides a shield against Justice to the High Lords. The laws have loopholes, you see, and Justicars must have permission before they can enter a High Lord’s land. The only place they have full authority is the heart of Sanctuary, and few High Lords break laws in that particular area. So by the time Fiona joined up, the Order of Justicars was rather corrupt. Upon seeing this, she began to try to cleanse it. Over the course of a few years, she had gained a reputation as well as the love of the High Commander of the Justicars himself. He respected her for her efforts, and helped her where he could. For the most part, the laws had his hands tied, though, and he refused to break the law, despite her pleas for true Justice. And while she had gained his love she had at the same time gained the hatred of several very important people. It wasn’t long after she had married the High Commander that she was framed and arrested. She had gained too much power in that marriage, though she had not married for power. The crimes they claimed she had committed were heinous ones and the charges could not be ignored.” He paused in the story and took another drag from his cigarette. His expression was disgusted as if the story left a bad taste in his mouth. Jala leaned forward in her seat silently, willing him to continue.

He gave her a slight nod and in a quieter voice spoke again. “For the first time ever, her husband, the Lord Commander, offered to break the law. He pleaded with her to run, and swore that he would prevent them from following. She refused him, saying, if it would remove his blinders to what the Justicars really were, she would pay the price gladly.” He paused again looking a bit pained and cleared his throat before he continued.

“He prayed often throughout the trial that she would relent and take his offer to flee. In the end, despite evidence otherwise, she was found guilty and sentenced to death. Once again, he begged her to flee and once again she refused. If nothing else, the Veirasha Bloodline is well known for their stubbornness, and Fiona was a perfect example of her Bloodline. When she set her mind, nothing in this world could change it.

On the day of the execution, only one of the High Lords that had demanded her death was present. He stood beside the judge who had sentenced her and watched as the High Commander led his wife onto the dais for execution before the whole of the city. Normally, there is an executioner for these things, but the High Lord refused to have one. Saying, if it must be done, he would do it, so he knew the blow fell true and she did not suffer.

She stood before him with no malice and kissed him firmly before the city and all the gods. ‘I love you Caspian, and I know you do as you feel you must. Twice you have asked me to run, and both times I have refused you. Had I accepted that offer you would always have a part of yourself that hated me for forcing you to sacrifice your honor. If my death is what it takes to open your eyes, then I accept that. Do not let my death be in vain, Love. See them for what they are, all of them. See what corruption you feed with your loyalty and duty. See how they abuse your honor, and remember how I tried to preserve it.’ And with those words spoken she knelt and pulled her long raven hair from her neck and offered her life to him. Many in the crowd thought he would disobey. I think I would have in his place. But Caspian, the High Commander, did not. With tears showing clearly in his eyes, he drew his sword and removed his beloved wife’s head with one clean stroke. With her blood still fresh on the blade, he turned to the High Lord and the Judge and removed the pin of office from his cloak. They watched him in confusion as his pristine white cloak dropped to the bloodstained ground. He tossed the pin at their feet and stared at them with open contempt. ‘I have performed my last duty of office as I have been commanded. That is the last command you will ever give me. My eyes are open now, and I see you for the creatures you truly are. Her death was not in vain, and the price for my ignorance was far too high.’

The words had no sooner left his mouth, than his sword was in motion again. Yet again another head was removed with one fell stroke of that gleaming blade. The judge stared in horror at the fallen High Lord and his voice shrilled above the shock of the crowd as he screamed for guards. None came though, as all stood frozen in disbelief. ‘You live for now,’ Caspian said to the judge, pointing a finger at the man’s chest. ‘Mend your ways and you may continue to live. Remember that it is justice you serve, not the High Lords. I spare you in this, not for any love of you, but because I, too, blindly served them. I give you the same chance she gave me, without near the cost.’ With that said, he turned his back on the man, as if he were no longer even there. His eyes fell to Fiona’s body, and he dropped to his knee lightly and ran a finger through her blood. He spoke words then, so soft no one in the crowd could hear what he said. Many claimed that he begged for her forgiveness, but no one truly knows. With a shaking hand, he traced a line across his own wrist leaving a red smear on his flesh. The blood sank into his skin where it touched, leaving a scarlet line. Thus, marked, he would always remember what honor and ignorance had cost him.

With tears still open on his face he gathered Fiona’s remains into his blood soaked cloak and slowly stood. He stared out over the crowds and met the eyes of those that would look at him. ‘From this day forward, be it Lord or beggar, none will be spared justice before my eyes and only the guilty will ever feel the blade of my sword again. I swear this on my wife’s blood.’ Caspian spoke the words loudly and clearly for all gathered to hear. When he left Sanctuary that day, many of his Justicars followed him. One by one they cast off their white cloaks and pins of office and joined Caspian as he left the service of the High Lords. To this day, they mark their arms with tattoos to signify when they have achieved some good for the world, despite the law, and to this day, they call themselves after the woman who died to open their eyes.” He was silent for a long while after the telling and simply sat there staring at the bench in front of him.

“So my father was a Justicar at one time?” she asked at last.

“No. He joined long after Caspian led the first Fionaveir from Sanctuary. All Fionaveir hate the Justicars though. They see them as more of an obstruction of justice than what they actually claim to be,” he replied. All of his smiles had vanished with the telling, and he seemed entirely somber.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize the story would upset you,” she spoke quietly.

“It’s not the story, it’s the memory. A story would be far more bardic in the telling. That telling was about as short as I could make it. As I said before all the gods were there. I was there that day. I saw the pain in Caspian’s eyes. I watched her innocent blood spill. We all have unpleasant memories, Jala.” He gave her a weak smile and shrugged. “And they never get any easier to talk about, no matter how long you wait.” He stood slowly. “One last thing before I go, do you have your ship pass?”

She gave a slight nod and fished her pass from her cloak pocket and handed it to him. He looked down at it and frowned then calmly ripped it in half.

“Wait, I need that!” Her objection came too late, and she watched in dismay as the first of the two pieces fluttered to the floor. He pulled another envelope from his own jacket and handed it over to her. It was plain white with the word Quicksilver written in elegant script on its back.

“That’s a better ship, and you will have an easier voyage on it,” he said.

She stared down at the envelope and looked up to thank him and found the room empty.

“My dear, Jala, there you are.” Father Belson’s voice came quietly from behind her, and she jumped half an inch at the sound of it. She had forgotten he was even in the room. She quickly masked her dismay with a smile and moved to give him a hug.

“Gretchen says the coach will be here anytime and that I best make my goodbyes hasty,” she said quietly. “Thank you for all you have done for me. I will miss you and the Temple more than I can say.” She felt her eyes mist a bit, and he smiled at her.

“There now, child, you will be back before you know it. We will miss you too while you are gone and we will pray for you often.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and patted her on the arm to reassure her. She smiled again and hoped he couldn’t see the truth in her eyes. From the conversation she had just had, she wasn’t sure she would ever see this Temple again.

Chapter 4

Fionahold

The heavy oaken door swung open with a groan. It wasn’t quite fitted right on its hinges, and Victory had to put his shoulder into it to get it to move at all. Light crept out from the room beyond, the pale flickering light of candles and torches, rather than the steadier more reliable glow of a mage light. The air smelled strongly of it, all smoke and damp earth. He could hear voices within, talking low and hushed, and from the sound of it, more than he had expected. A heavy thud sounded behind him as Havoc pushed the rough door back into place and stepped up beside him.

“From the sound of it, we are the last,” Havoc murmured. Victory gave a slight nod in answer and stepped out of the alcove into the room beyond. For a moment, the room went silent. He scanned the room quickly, taking note of who was in attendance. Caspian sat in his battered armor at a table stacked high with paperwork that appeared to be partially sorted. His thick blond hair was pulled back severely, and his expression was one of distaste. He didn’t even glance up from the letter he currently read as they entered.

To his right sat Lutheron, the second in command. He was dressed as dark as his reputation and looked as though he had planned for a funeral rather than a council meeting. Lutheron showed no interest in the stack of papers and watched those in the room instead. His sharp features were expressionless as he surveyed the room, giving no indication of his thoughts. Victory tried to ignore the crawling sensation Lutheron’s dark gaze left on him, and quickly looked past the man.

Standing just beyond him at another raised table stood Caspian’s wife Faramir, and across from her was Symphony. Victory raised an eyebrow at the last, the first three were senior members of the Fionaveir, and their presence was expected at any meeting. Symphony, however, was not even a member. She lived in the Fionahold under Caspian’s protection, but nothing more. As if sensing his confusion, the young woman looked up at him and smiled. Her gold eyes seemed to catch the torchlight, and for a brief moment, they held a glow.

“I believe the last guests have arrived, Grandfather,” she said to Caspian in a low, rich voice.

Caspian looked up from his papers and raised an eyebrow. Silently, he motioned Victory and Havoc to seats. Victory gave a nod and quickly found a place at one of the smaller tables. He watched Havoc take a place at the end of the table, perched on the edge of it, and wondered for the hundredth time why they had been summoned. They were not council members and had no place here. As he scanned the room further, he noticed others along the wall seeming to try to blend with the shadows there. They were not council members, either. He could see Charm perched in the rafters above. The wiry rogue seemed more at ease in the heights of the cramped room than most seemed at the tables. Leaning against a wall near the corner stood Solace and Hawk. Both of them wore their woodland leathers of green and brown, and from the irritated look on Solace’s face, they would have preferred to be in the woods now. He looked past them, searching the last corners of the small stone room. Empty tables sat pushed against the wall. Most of the torch sconces sat empty. Only the few surrounding Caspian’s side of the room were lit. There were no other people here, though. This was not the entire Fionaveir council, but only the top three members. At least four people were missing and Victory frowned at the thought. It seemed unlikely that four of the most powerful people in the order were dead.

“Now you see that I’ve got you flanked,” he heard Faramir say gently and looked back toward the two women, grateful to have a distraction from his grim line of thought. Faramir’s attention was fixed on Symphony, watching her closely for any reaction. Her slight form held perfectly still with both hands braced on the table in front of her. The two women shared a vague resemblance, Victory noted as he watched them. Both were slight of build and had dark hair with a bone structure so delicate it would be easy to dismiss them. He, however, had seen them both on the yard for practice and knew far better than to dismiss either of them. Faramir was deadly accurate with a bow from ranges that seemed absurd even to most rangers, while Symphony could wield a sword with such speed that time seemed to stand still for her. They could nearly pass as sisters, Victory mused, his attention fully devoted to the two women now. They were, after all, a far more pleasant distraction than allowing himself to notice Lutheron’s continued attention.

Symphony had a frown on her young face and was staring hard at the table before her as if examining a puzzle. She twisted a lock of her raven black hair around a pale finger as she contemplated whatever was before her. “You do,” she agreed after long consideration and made a gesture with one hand. “But you’ve left yourself weak in the middle to do so.” She made another quick gesture and looked up at Faramir with a triumphant smile. “And now you are done.”

“Bold move, a costly one as well, but you are correct, I am done. Are you sure troops would follow those orders, though?” Faramir asked.

Victory watched the two of them in dawning amazement. They were using a sand table for magic. He couldn’t see the board from here, but he knew of the device. They used them in the Academy for strategic training. From a side view, it would resemble a normal table, but if one approached it and looked down, they would find a deep recess set in the center of the table. The sand within was enchanted and could be shaped to mimic any terrain. Overall, they were invaluable when training a new field commander, but to see one in the Fionahold was unheard of. Magic was all but unused here for security reasons. The Fionaveir were outlaws and in order to evade notice, Caspian had made the ruling. There were simply too many people living within these walls. If everyone used magic as readily as the rest of the world, the magical signature on this area would be so big even a child could trace it.

“My main force is composed of Firym with secondary forces of Shifters as well as a reserve force of Delreavan. All three of those armies are fearless in battle. They would take those orders and execute them without question,” Symphony replied without hesitation.

Faramir gave her an approving nod. “The most important part is to know your men and what they are willing or capable of doing. A strategy is worthless if your army cannot, or will not, follow it.”

Havoc leaned toward Victory and gave him a charming smile. “Notice my Faydwer friend the good lady chose Firym as her strength; no mention whatsoever of your pixie prancing people,” he said, his tone dripping with sweetness.

“Obviously she is learning to deal with multiple cultures. Were she to use the Faydwer people, that would be a moot point. When my people take the field they need no support,” Victory replied with the same sweetness.

Havoc made a scoffing noise and started to speak, then noticed Caspian regarding them and left off.

“Many of you are wondering why you are here.” Caspian began, and all fell silent. Caspian was a big man nearly seven feet in height. When he was in his armor he seemed even bigger. It was not his size, or the armor, or even the great sword leaning against the wall behind him that granted the silence. The Fionaveir did not follow Caspian out of fear. It was respect that silenced them.

“There are things that must be done, and you are here because you are about to do them,” Lutheron said in a voice near a whisper. He was a much smaller man than Caspian, and his voice never seemed to rise. But for all of that, he was quite possibly the most frightening man Victory knew. The two men were about as different as two could get, but their combined leadership kept the Fionaveir running like clockwork.

“For the past two decades we have been working toward a goal. That goal is nearly at hand,” Faramir added. She moved from the table with Symphony and stood behind Caspian. With casual ease, she leaned against her husband’s shoulder and smiled at those assembled in the room. Her delicate build made her seem a child next to Caspian.

“We started this order to uphold justice, but over the years, we have found this to be a difficult task. We are hunted as outlaws, and every day our home grows more dangerous,” Caspian said, his deep voice seeming to fill the hall. “Over the past twenty years, we have been maneuvering our people into positions in Sanctuary. We have placed our people in offices of Government. In short, we have been gathering power.”

“All for a day that is very near. As the High Lords have shown us clearly, an equal council of lords does not work. There must be a single pillar of power such as we have. Here in Fionahold, all know that we have a council but Caspian has the final word on everything,” Faramir said with obvious affection in her voice.

Victory glanced over at Havoc and found a bemused look on his partner’s face.

“Revolution!” Havoc whispered. He smiled and nodded in approval.

“Correct, Havoc, it will be a revolution. But not what you are thinking, I doubt.” It was Symphony that spoke this time. She stepped away from the table where she stood and moved to the center of the room. “This will not be a bloody affair,” she began, her eyes searching out each individual in the room and holding their gaze for no more than a mere moment. “Our land has bled enough, we will not bring war.”

“How exactly do you plan to have a bloodless revolution?” Solace asked, her voice filled with doubt. Hawk stood silent beside her, but nodded in agreement.

“It does seem unlikely that the High Lords will simply hand over their power,” Victory agreed.

Symphony gave them a nod and that same slight smile. “We already have three High Lords on our side. And soon enough we will have more,” she replied. “We must have a majority in the vote of the High Lord’s council. If we muster enough power behind us, no one will dare speak out against us. There are twelve seats currently. We will need two thirds to support us before we can move safely.”

Victory tried to ignore the building doubt. If Caspian thought this was possible, he should consider it fairly and not dismiss it outright. “They will want one of their own to be in power, which High Lord can we trust that much?” He asked. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he would trust his own uncle to control so much. Though out of all of the High Lords, his uncle was known to be one of the most honorable.

“We won’t be trusting any of them with that power,” Caspian answered bluntly.

“We will be trusting me, because I have been raised for this sole purpose. I have been trained on laws and government as well as the strategy of war,” Symphony answered, her smile returning at the expressions of those in the room. Victory stared in disbelief and tried to keep it from showing on his face, though he no doubt did a poor job of that. Too shocked by the words, he glanced at Havoc and found his partner sitting with a matched expression on his bronzed face. He could remember Symphony as a small child running about the Fionahold, always underfoot. She was young, no more than thirty at most. He couldn’t imagine any of the High Lords following such a green child willingly.

“As well as her Bloodlines, by tracing lineage, Symphony can show proof she has blood ties to six of the High Houses. That is more than any can claim. Beyond that, she is also neutral and will not show favoritism to any single house. None of the High Lords can claim that,” Faramir said.

“We have three High Lords on our side now. We will soon have more. That, however, is not why you are here. Leave the politics to the council. Your missions are much simpler,” Lutheron said, and the room once again grew hushed. Victory nodded in understanding. It was clear now where the missing councilors were, and he felt a knot of tension release inside at the knowledge that they were not dead.

“Victory, Havoc, the two of you are to travel to the Warrens and ensure that Graves and his mercenaries will remain neutral. You will pay them to stay out of whatever may come,” Caspian said, his eyes locked on the two of them.

Victory nodded his agreement and tried to keep his stomach from rolling. The Warrens mercenaries had a rather dark reputation and Graves was notoriously difficult to deal with. It would not be an easy assignment by any means.

“Pay them to sit on their asses. That should give them a good laugh,” Havoc said in a dry tone. Victory glanced at his partner and wondered if the council had made the right choice for this job. Havoc was Firym and Firym were proud militant people. They had little use for anyone that fought for money. In his homeland, you fought to prove yourself or to defend what was yours, not to get paid.

“Solace, Hawk, you two will travel to Kithvaryn and ensure that the good general keeps his people out of the coming troubles,” Caspian continued.

Victory glanced at the rangers, and felt a bit better about his own assignment. Theirs would be the harder of the two. General Kithvaryn and his Ten Thousand were legendary even before the barrier. He could not recall a single significant conflict in which they had not had a part in all of the histories he had been taught.

“Charm, you are here at my request,” Symphony said, her gaze set on the rafters where the rogue looked down with what appeared to be amusement on his face. “Before you joined the Fionaveir you were legendary for your stealth. You were the scourge of the powerful beyond the barrier, and it was rumored that you were never caught, no matter what you stole.”

“All true,” Charm answered simply.

“I ask you to use that stealth now but not to steal.” Symphony paused and glanced at Victory. She gave him a smile. He nodded back to her a bit confused, unsure what Charm’s stealth had to do with him.

“What would you have of me, Milady?” Charm asked.

“There is a girl that will be traveling to Sanctuary to attend the Academy there. She has been raised in a Temple and is naïve to how dangerous the world is. I wish you to keep her alive until she has come into her power. She will be very important in days to come. Her name is Jala and even now she journeys toward Sanctuary. Take whoever you deem appropriate and keep her alive and well. Keep the High Lords from destroying her,” Symphony answered.

Victory’s eyes widened at the request, and he looked to Havoc, knowing the Firym would object. As he had predicted, his partner was even now rising. He gave a sigh and wondered what punishments would follow this. No doubt their next few assignments would make the trip to the Warrens seem pleasant.

“That should be our assignment. We found the girl, and despite how many times we have asked about her fate, you’ve kept us like mushrooms.” Havoc glared at Caspian. “I’m sick of sitting in the dark and being fed shit, Milord.”

“Watch your tongue, Firym,” Lutheron warned in a voice that was more promise than threat.

“I’m done with that Lutheron, if you want me to shut up then come silence me,” Havoc shot back, his temper rising. “I want answers, and I want them now. I’m done with this ‘in good time’ crap.”

Victory gave a slight groan. This would be worse than usual. He had sworn to obey Caspian and yet he had also sworn to protect his partner. He glanced at Havoc and then to Caspian and then to Lutheron who seemed to be rising from his chair, as deadly silent as the shadows that seemed to surround him. He rose slowly from his own chair and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. This wasn’t a fight he wanted at all, but Havoc didn’t seem inclined to give him a choice.

“Stop this at once and return to your seats! You as well, Lutheron!” Symphony’s voice cut through the room like a whip, and Victory found himself sitting once more without being aware of even moving. To his amazement, Lutheron was seated, as well. Havoc, as stubborn as always, remained standing his gaze locked on Caspian.

“I swore to obey Caspian, not you Symphony. I mean no offense, but this does not concern you,” Havoc growled.

“If you want your answers, you will bloody well sit your ass down,” she snapped back in a voice that would do any field commander proud. Her expression was deadly serious, her hand on the hilt of her own blade.

Havoc turned a glare toward her and slowly sat back down. His eyes never left her face and his expression said she had limited time to explain before this got ugly again. A Firym’s temper was never something to scoff at. Victory knew that particular lesson well. During the early part of their partnership, he had been in more fights than he could count, due to that temper. He had actually gone so far as to pray to an Aspect or two for a change of partner. Things were different now. They had been through too much together and had fought beside each other too long. If Havoc pushed this fight, he would back his partner, Aspects be damned. He had to admit that Havoc did have a point. For ten years, they had watched over Jala from a distance. In a way, she was under their protection, and they did have a right to know.

“We need her because of her Bloodlines. Since the fall of Merro, her line is extinct. We need her trained so she can access her powers to their full potential. We have kept her at the Temple to keep her pure and free of the backbiting nature of Immortals. We wanted her untainted by political ties or House wars. She must make her own judgments. Due to that lack of knowledge, we have placed her in a delicate situation, so I send Charm.” She motioned to the rogue and continued to match Havoc’s glare. “He will watch over her without her even knowing. That is why he has been chosen. You are not a subtle creature, Havoc, which you have proven quite clearly today. For now, that is all the answers you are going to get. I will not jeopardize the girl further to comfort you, no matter how loudly you whine.”

Havoc seethed at her words and started to rise again.

“Move from that chair and I’ll have your legs off at the knees,” Symphony growled.

“I believe I will take Isador with me.” Charm’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. He dropped lightly down from the rafters landing as gracefully as a cat. He wasn’t a very large man barely at the height of five ten with a build of wiry muscle. He crossed the room soundlessly, his soft boots making not even a scuff on the stone floor. He wore dark leathers all shades of grey to blend with any shadows. “I will watch her as if she were my own daughter, Havoc. If you like, I shall make reports to you and Victory so that you may be at ease for her wellbeing,” he offered.

With a sigh, Victory relaxed back in his seat. He could see the tension leaving Havoc’s shoulders. The slight Symphony had given him was not forgotten, but for the moment it was set aside. “We would thank you kindly for that, Charm,” Victory said with a slight smile. He gave the rogue a look that showed he thanked him more for his intervention than the offer of reports.

Charm returned the smile easily. “Think nothing of it, tis no trouble,” Charm replied with a slight bow. He turned gracefully to face Symphony. “With Milady’s permission I would gather what I will need for the journey and make haste to Sanctuary. I would prefer to arrive before the girl.”

Symphony’s face had softened once more, and she gave him a gracious nod. “That would be most appreciated, Charm, and I think Isador is a splendid choice of a partner. Thank you.”

Charm gave her a deep bow as graceful as a dancer and stood, turning to leave. With a quick flip of his hand, he pulled his cloak up concealing his pale blond hair, blending even more with the shadows before leaving the room. Had it not been for the stubborn door guarding the room, Victory wasn’t sure he would have known when the man left the room. With a smile, he looked to Caspian. No doubt that was the true reason all doors in the Fionahold seemed to fit so poorly. It wasn’t for lack of carpenters; it was the surplus of sneaky people. He gave a slight chuckle at the revelation and rose, also. “Havoc and I should be off, as well,” he said with a slight bow of his own. It would be a minor blessing of Fortune if he could get the Firym out of the Fionahold without further incident.

Fortune was apparently smiling though because Havoc stood without objection and left the room without so much as a by-your-leave. Victory watched him go, and glanced back at Caspian. With a slight shrug, he gave the Lord Commander a smile. “Manners have never been his strong point, Milord.”

Caspian gave a slight chuckle and smiled. “Firym have very little use for etiquette, Victory. Safe journeys to you and do try to keep him from starting a brawl in the Warrens.”

“I will do my best, Milord,” Victory agreed with a sigh and followed his partner from the room.

Chapter 5

Southern Greenwild

It was late evening by the time the coach jounced its way into Brannaford. The city had grown since the last time she had been here, and she found herself looking around in dismay. She heard the driver clucking to the team of horses as he pulled the coach to a rough stop outside a gateside inn.

“An’ ‘ere ya be, M’lady.” He called back to her. His accent was so thick it was difficult to understand. He must be from one of the far Northern provinces, to have an accent such as that. She wondered briefly to herself as to what had brought him so far South to work but shrugged off the thought quickly. She had more direct things to worry about. She considered asking directions of him, but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of deciphering his answer. Surely she could find her own way.

“Thank you, sir. Would you kindly help me with my trunks,” she called back as she gathered her belongings inside the coach. Her answer came in the form of a solid thump from outside the coach. Eyes wide, she looked through the window to see the smaller of her two trunks rocking lightly in the dirt, from its drop from the top of the coach. She glanced up in time to see the second, heavier trunk, teetering above her head, and barely pulled back inside the window as it, too, dropped to the dusty road.

“I suppose that would be a yes,” she grumbled, as she stepped down from the coach, before the driver had a chance to toss her out, as well. “Thank you, I suppose. Most kind of you.” Her tone was a bit brittle as she spoke, drifting her gaze from her battered trunks to the driver. She doubted he even noticed her words, though, let alone her tone. With his quick nod to her, the coach was pulling away. She watched him leave the gates with a bit of confusion. Why was he in such a hurry? Surely, he would take an inn until he got another passenger. It surely wasn’t worth it to him, to leave empty.

She waved her hand lightly at the dust the horses had stirred with their leaving, and coughed gently. With a sigh, she cast a glance about her in hopes she would recognize some part of Brannaford from her childhood trips to the market with her father. Her eyes drifted across the gate behind her, and she felt another sigh. Brannaford barely had a road the last time, let alone a wall and gate. This part of town didn’t look anything like what she remembered. She wasn’t even sure these buildings had been here the last time. She remembered a general store and a stone inn at the outskirts, but the buildings around her were wooden.

She turned her attention to the inn behind her, hoping for a helpful individual. Those hopes quickly died, as she took in the rundown appearance of the building, and the even more rundown appearance of the few individuals that sat quietly on the porch, watching her with mild interest. One of them, a shaggy, dirty looking fellow, was actually sharpening a knife as he watched. When her eyes locked on him, he spat something into the filthy boards before him. She blanched in disgust and turned back to the gate.

Surely there were guards posted there that could offer advice or protection for that matter. She saw no signs of guards, but saw a cart drawn by two plodding mules, moving ever so slowly toward her. She felt her hopes rise as it neared. Perhaps she could hire them to tote her trunks to the docks. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to get them there otherwise, and she knew she couldn’t drag them all the way there. She was also sure they would be stolen if she went to hire someone to carry them. Her hopes dimmed a bit as the cart creaked closer and she was able to recognize the cart’s cargo: stacks and stacks of poultry cages containing some very unhappy chickens. It was still better than nothing, she thought, as she studied the driver. He seemed a decent enough looking fellow and a typical farmer. His face was rough and deeply tanned, but he didn’t have the dangerous look such as the men behind her at the inn. He had a boy riding on the back of the wagon who looked to be just slightly younger than she. Both he and his father seemed on guard, and she didn’t miss the fact that both had stout wooden cudgels beside them. Still, she had limited choices, and they appeared to be the best of the ones she had. She cleared her throat and called out to them. “Excuse me, good sir. I wonder if I might hire your services.”

The old man stopped the cart, his expression full of suspicion as he took in the sight of her, her trunks, and the array of men behind her now paying closer attention than she would have liked. “What services would you be wanting, young miss?” he asked, his eyes more on the men now, than her.

“My coach dropped me at the gate, and I need to get to the docks. It would be a simple enough matter if not for my trunks. I wonder if you might have enough room on the back of your cart to get me a bit closer.”

The old man nodded with his focus remaining keen on the inn’s occupants. “Aye, Thomas. Get her trunks up on the cart. You girl go ahead and climb on up here.” The boy was moving before he had finished speaking and already had a trunk loaded before she could thank him. He was obviously in just as much of a hurry as her coach driver had been. She took the hint herself and climbed quickly onto the bench beside the old man. No sooner had she settled on the seat, than he was clucking to the mules once again.

He kept his eye on the inn until they were well past it and then glanced to her. “Not a good place your coach left you in. Brannaford’s not a safe place no more. Used to be one could trade without a worry here on account of Merro’s soldiers keeping a patrol across the border. But with Merro a wasteland and all the soldiers dead, ain’t no place safe.”

“I hadn’t realized it had grown so dangerous. It’s been years since I have been here,” she said, keeping a wary gaze on the town as they rolled past. It did seem rougher with most of the buildings in ruins and the meaner look about the townspeople. “You still trade here though?” She asked, doubtfully. None of the townsfolk looked as though he had the money for even the scrawniest chicken.

“Trade, that’s the truth of it. Don’t get coin no more, but I can get the things I need in barter. It’s all barter these days,” he grunted and shook his head. “Don’t stay here past dark, though, not for nothing. Used to be I’d stay at an inn, have a few pints, and listen to the talk fore I’d head back.” He spat in the dirt beside the cart and shook his head again in obvious disgust. “No inns worth going in no more, and got no talk I’m like to want to hear.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond so she remained silent and traveled her gaze over the town again. It would seem Merro wasn’t the only country the magic had destroyed. She simply hadn’t realized how bad this one was. Her life had been sheltered at the Temple, and while few prayed for luck, the ones that did had never mentioned how bad the rest of the country was. She felt relief as the docks came into sight. She could see several ships rocking at anchor. Soon enough, she would be safely on the Quicksilver and on her way to Sanctuary. As quietly as she could, trying hard not to draw the old man’s attention, she fished a few copper out of her purse. She was surprised no one had noticed it yet and truly didn’t want to draw attention to the weight of it. She placed the coppers on the bench beside the old man and smiled at him. “Thank you so much for the ride, sir. I’m not sure what I would have done, had you not come along.”

“Died in an alley penniless with your throat slit, no doubt.” His tone was dire, and she felt herself pale a bit. “If you were lucky that woulda been it,” he added, glancing at her. She paled further and nodded. He scooped the coppers off the bench and pulled the cart to a stop. “Thomas, get them trunks down,” he barked, not even bothering to look back at the boy who was already scrambling to obey.

With another glance around, she climbed carefully down from the cart and moved over to stand by her trunks. “Thank you so much, Thomas.” She smiled at the boy. He gave her a quick glance and shuffled his feet with an awkward nod. Silently, he clambered back onto the cart as the old man clucked again to the mules.

The docks, she noted with pleasure, actually had guards posted. No doubt hired by the merchants and not actual city guards, but still it was something. She glanced down at her trunks again and sighed before looking up to find the closest guard. She cleared her throat and called out to him. “Excuse me, Sir Guard. I wonder if I might trouble you for a moment.”

The guard gave her an appraising look, smiled to his partner, and sauntered over. “Trouble me as long as you like.” He smiled at her in a way that was not at all reassuring.

“I’m to take ship here, and I wonder if you might be able to direct me to her dock? I don’t wish to leave my trunks behind to search her out.”

His smile disappeared with her businesslike tone, and he glanced back to the ships. “Well, I’m no harbormaster, but I know most of ‘em that’s here. Which one ya looking for?”

“Quicksilver,” she answered and watched his expression switch to a frown.

“Hmm, ya got a ships pass?” he asked after a moment’s thought. She nodded and pulled the envelope from her cloak and offered it over to him. He barely glanced at the seal before ripping it open and looking over the document. Given his rough appearance she found herself shocked that he could read. “There’s your problem, miss. Quicksilver wouldn’t be here. You need the sky port. That’s up the street then up the hill a bit. He glanced down at her trunks then back at her. If you got coin, I can get ya a pair of stout lads to carry those for ya. Would do it myself but I’m on duty.”

“Sky port?” She asked stupidly.

“Aye, sky port, ya know. For the spell hawks? It’s up the hill like I said. You want those lads to carry for you?” He raised an eyebrow in question, obviously impatient to be off if she wasn’t going to present more interesting entertainment for him.

“Uhh, yes, actually. If you know a couple trustworthy ones, I would be most grateful.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Miss, ain’t no one trustworthy but for the right coin, I’ll find ya decent ones.” She nodded her understanding and slipped him silver. Hopefully, a coin worth that much would persuade him to find really decent ones. She wanted to ask what exactly a spell hawk was before he left, but remained silent, knowing that she would find out soon enough.

Within a few short minutes, the guard had waved over a couple rough looking dock hands. She explained what she needed, and soon found herself walking quietly behind them as they led her through a narrow street and up a slight hill. She wasn’t even sure if it could be called a hill, it barely rose over the height of the nearest buildings.

The top was roughly cobbled and completely bare of buildings as well as trees. She could make out what kind of resembled a ship on the far side. It was deep polished grey all over, as if made entirely of metal. It seemed much smaller than a water-going vessel and resembled a bird in form. It was easy to see where the term hawk had come from as she studied the outstretched wings. Given the coloring, she supposed the name Quicksilver could apply.

She heard two solid thumps and a throat being cleared, causing her to turn to see the dock hands regarding her expectantly. With a nod, she fished out more coins. Once again silver, one for each of them. They both took a quick glance at the coin and without another look headed back down the hill. She felt a knot of tension release from her stomach at their departure. She had been half convinced they would mug her and take everything, but apparently the guard had found decent ones, as he said he would. She glanced down at her purse and frowned. It was good that Fortune had given her more money. She had already spent a month’s worth of food money just trying to get across town. She took another quick look around to reassure herself that she was alone and walked toward the ship, leaving her trunks behind her for the time being.

Up close, it was even more impressive. It was roughly about the same size as a small fishing vessel and was fully enclosed. She could see a door in the side right behind the wing. Every inch of it was engraved with runes that seemed to dance before her eyes. Along the wings, she could see the pattern of feathers, but the front did not resemble a bird’s head at all, rather more rounded, with no neck. She frowned a bit when she spotted the title The Shade in elegant print rather than Quicksilver on the back.

She heard a noise from the far side of the ship, and moved around the front to see. The sound of sharp metal being scraped came again, followed by a muffled curse. She rounded in time to see a sweaty young man backing away from the ships wing, with a pry bar in one hand and what resembled a broken tree limb in the other. He didn’t look much older than she was and had a much cleaner appearance than anyone else she had seen in town. His short hair was a light auburn and heavily tousled from the wind. While he was simply wearing a good quality under tunic and pants, he was both well fed and well-muscled with a wiry build. In short, he was certainly not a local. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, studied the tree branch he held briefly, and tossed it over his shoulder. He seemed to notice her as he turned back to his ship, and his expression grew quizzical. With a raised eyebrow, he looked her over. She noted the glint of silver and the flash of gems from his ears and raised her own eyebrow. She had never seen a man wear that sort of jewelry.

“Well, now that we have both had a good look, may I help you?” His voice sounded both amused and tired.

“I was looking for the Quicksilver and thought your ship might be it, but when I got closer I could see the name The Shade, so that answers that. I’m afraid I might have missed her, though. Could you tell me if you have seen her?” She glanced back down at the town and looked quickly back to him, praying he wouldn’t say it had already left. She didn’t fancy the thought of an overnight stay in Brannaford, and she doubted she could book passage on another ship this late.

He leaned back against the wing of his ship and nodded. “I’m afraid you did miss her, actually. She went down in a storm about two months ago. How long ago did you book passage?”

She stared at him in disbelief, hoping he would laugh and tell her it was a joke. When his expression stayed serious and he remained silent, she sighed heavily. “I’m not sure, actually. A friend of mine booked the passage.” She looked over her shoulder again and mentally cringed at the thought of dragging those trunks back down the hill to one of the rundown inns.

“Well, where are you bound to? Brannaford is not a place I would leave a lady.” He smiled as her head whipped back around to look at him with hope written clearly on her features.

“Truly?” She breathed. “I would pay for passage. I truly don’t want to be here. It’s not at all what I remember it to be,” she added hastily.

He laughed lightly, still sounding tired but a good sounding laugh she decided. “Truly, and no you don’t have to pay, but you do have to tell me where you are going. Are those your trunks over there?”

She nodded quickly. “I’ll drag them over. I wouldn’t want to trouble you. I’m headed for Sanctuary actually. That won’t be too far out of the way for you, will it?”

With another smile he pushed off the ship and tossed his pry bar down beside it. “I’ll get the trunks, it’s no trouble. And no, it won’t be out of my way. I’m headed there myself, actually.” He looked her over again and offered his hand. “My name is Christian, by the way.”

She took his hand and gave him a smile. “Jala,” she replied with a slight bow of her head.

“Are you heading to the Academy by chance or does some other business take you to Sanctuary?” he asked in a perfectly polite tone. He had a good voice as well as a good laugh, she decided, and felt herself warming to his company.

“Yes, actually, though I confess I’m a bit nervous about it. It will be my first year there.”

He nodded his understanding. “Will be my third year, and we have a decent length of flight before we get there. I’ll try to explain what I can of it on the way.” He made a motion toward the trunks. “Let me get those loaded and we will get out of here. I can’t say I’m fond of this town, the sooner we are gone the happier I am.”

She watched him walk off toward the trunks and smiled brightly up at the sky. “Thank you, Fortune!” She whispered and kissed her amulet lightly. Her hopes were higher than they had been in days.

He returned in moments with the trunks bobbing in the air behind him. She gaped a moment at her trunks and then looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Too bulky to carry without dragging so it’s just simpler this way,” he explained briskly, obviously misunderstanding her expression. Approaching the ship, the side door slid open and without a pause he lifted the biggest of the trunks, as if it weighed no more than a feather, and pushed it inside. Once both were loaded he offered her a hand up as well. “Sooner gone, the sooner there,” he said with a wink. She stepped inside quickly and moved from the door into the interior. It was bigger than she had expected and very well accommodated. Her trunks rested easily between four leather seats in the back of the ship. Noticing two more seats in the front of the ship, she paused unsure as to where he expected her to sit. He stood behind her now, securing the door.

“On up in the front if you wish, no sense for you to ride back here as cargo; you might as well have a good view. Take the seat on the right and please don’t touch any of the controls.”

She gratefully nodded that he hadn’t made her ask where to go, and moved to sit in the right hand chair. The seat sank slightly as she rested her weight in it. The leather was warm and soft to the touch. She ran a hand over it idly amazed at the comfort. Not even her bed in the Temple had been this relaxing and it was down filled. He moved to his own chair and dropped into it lightly. With practiced ease, he leaned forward and rested his hand on a panel on the dash. To her delight and amazement the entire dash of the ship lit up with an array of bright colors. At one place there were numbers and at others lines all clearly displayed and completely incomprehensible to her.

Her mind raced with further curiosity when a map appeared in the upper right hand corner of the display screen. She had never actually seen a map of the world before and found herself leaning forward to study it more intently. There were three large landmasses displayed. The one to the west was far larger than the other two. On the southern corner near the eastern coast a red dot was flashing. “Is this where we are? Brannaford, that is?” She asked, indicating the dot with her finger.

She glanced over to find him watching her with an odd expression. He gave a slight nod but remained silent. She looked back toward the map, examining the large circle centered almost perfectly in between the land masses. It looked half the size of the smallest landmass but had nothing written on it to indicate what it was. In fact, to her great frustration, none of the map had writing to indicate what countries were where. The only ones she could identify with certainty were Merro to the south of where the red dot was, and Greenwild, the country Brannaford was in. Realizing the only way her curiosity was going to be sated was by asking she pointed at the large perfect circle. “What is that?”

He stared at her for a moment as if trying to decide if she was serious then answered in a neutral voice. “That’s Sanctuary.”

Her eyes widened and she looked from him and back to the map. “It’s not really that big, is it?” It couldn’t possibly be a city the size of a small country. That couldn’t be possible, could it? How would she ever even find the Academy if he didn’t offer to guide her?

“That map is to scale. Sanctuary is actually several cities built around one, it was the first place created, and that’s why it’s so big.” His voice still held that neutral tone and he was still watching her very closely.

“Created?” She asked quietly. She really didn’t want to seem as stupid as he obviously thought she was but she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Where are you from?” he asked with curiosity, his voice showing no hint of malice or reproach.

She blushed slightly and frowned. “From a small Temple south of Brannaford; it’s near a crossroad village by the name of Bliss. Though it’s not much of a village anymore since the fall of Merro, and there is certainly nothing Blissful about it. I doubt you have heard of the place.” She gave a derisive chuckle. “I doubt many in Brannaford have heard of it, and they are only about a day away.”

“And they never taught you the story of Sanctuary?” he asked carefully as if testing her.

“They taught me the fundaments of the Temple and how to read and write but not much beyond that. I’m afraid I don’t know much about the other lands at all, or history for that matter,” she replied, her tone cautious. She wasn’t sure why he was suspicious but she didn’t want to offend him further.

He nodded again and seemed to reach a decision. “Well, the story of Sanctuary is a long one, and I’m no bard, but I can give you the general bones of it quickly enough.” He leaned back in his seat and indicated the map. “This is not the only world. That’s difficult to believe but it’s the truth of it. In the distant past over a thousand years ago this world did not even exist and its inhabitants, well some of them anyway, were scattered across these other worlds. There were many others aside from our people, and among them was an order of mages known as The Guardians.” He paused as if considering how best to continue and then spoke again quietly. “Our people here, the ones that dwell in this world, were well known out there for their power and strength and willingness to use that power. So in the best interest of the other worlds The Guardians began the creation of Sanctuary. They kept it secret in forming, and through cunning, trickery, and at times simple explanation they slowly brought it to the attention of our people. They told them it was a refuge to build strength and a safe place from their enemies. They told them several different stories and always in the greatest secrecy. Over time they convinced our people to help them in the creation, never once telling them what it really was.”

“What was it really?” She broke in as curious as a child listening to a hearthside tale.

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “A prison,” he answered quietly. “Our people were trouble makers out there you see, and dangerous, too. They brought war and used magic against their enemies and the other worlds suffered for our strength. So they made Sanctuary, and lied. On the day the portals opened to this world, each Bloodline and their retainers stepped through, believing this was a secret place, one where they could hide, or prepare, or whatever story they had been led to believe. They had no idea others would be here as well. The Guardians had kept the truth very quiet and it wasn’t until the last portal closed that the Barrier went up. That’s the true genius of the plan. The Barrier. It’s a masterpiece.” He smiled at her and indicated toward the sky. “You can’t see it with the naked eye. You have to look with mage sight, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’d be blinded by the sight of it for a time.”

She found herself craning to see the sky through the view screen, even though he had said she couldn’t see it. She pondered what he had told her so far and wondered at the truth of it. How could you trap gods with any barrier? “How does the barrier keep them here if they have so much magic?”

He smiled ruefully. “I said it was a masterpiece. The way it is created, only a creature with absolutely no magic can pass it. If any sort of magic comes into contact with it, it absorbs the magic and strengthens the barrier. And there are no creatures here without magic. That is one thing the Immortals cannot create - a pure, mortal creature with no magic. They have tried, but to create life, they must use magic and so magic leaves its touch on the creature in small ways. Even if they could create such a creature, what good would it do to send it out through the barrier? With no magic, it would have little chance of bringing the barrier down on that side. The Guardians would stop it.”

“But the village people and the citizens of Brannaford aren’t magical,” she objected. Her parents had never shown mage talent, nor had any of the other villagers she had known. Neither had she for that matter.

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “They all do in some small way. Every last one of them. What we call mortals or commons are technically Spellborn, the offspring of the ones the Immortals tried to create without magic. They all have something, be it strength beyond normal means or the ability to work some minor spell like light. All of them can do something. Many of them never find their talents, but they are there.” He leaned forward to the control panel again. “So they created the perfect prison for us, and essentially sentenced us all to death. In the beginning, there were twenty Bloodlines that were brought here. One of those did not even survive the first day on Sanctuary. The most important thing to remember about the Immortal Bloodlines is, for the most part, they despise each other. There are exceptions, a few unsteady alliances, but not many. There are twelve remaining Bloodlines now since the fall of Merro. Given enough time, there won’t even be twelve. We will kill each other off slowly. It’s our nature, I suppose.” His tone sounded disgusted as he added the last. He turned his attention fully back to the spell hawk, and she didn’t press him for more. She sensed now was not the time to speak of that particular topic. Perhaps later she could learn more.

With practiced ease, he drew the controls back to him, and the spell hawk began to lift gracefully into the air. She found herself clutching the seat, expecting the takeoff to be rough. Slowly she loosened her grip and leaned back in her seat relaxing again. “Don’t worry, I’m the best pilot there is.” He gave her a reassuring smile as he spoke. “You really are genuine, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, once they had gained the correct altitude.

“Genuine?” She asked in confusion.

“You really are a stranded girl from the country,” he clarified.

“Yes, I suppose that’s a good description. What else would I be?”

“A trap,” he replied simply, some of the fatigue gone from his voice. “I had guessed you an assassin, but you don’t even know who I am, do you?”

“You thought I was an assassin and let me on your ship?” she asked in disbelief. Then added in almost an afterthought “and no, I don’t know who you are, should I?”

He gave a light chuckle and smiled at her. “Yes to both. On the first hand, I thought you meant to kill me, so I was on guard, which means you had very little chance of actually accomplishing that task. As to the other, my full name is Christian Morcaillo, High Lord Morcaillo’s son.” He held up his right hand and waved his finger to indicate a large ring set with an enormous sapphire. “Another good tip for dealing with people in Sanctuary is to look always for a signet ring.”

She nodded her understanding and swallowed a lump in her throat. A High Lord’s son and she was still dressed in her faded blue dress and no doubt covered in road dust. She blushed slightly and leaned back in her seat. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, Milord,” she said meekly.

He gave another laugh and shook his head. “I didn’t tell you so you would call me Lord. I was simply explaining why I thought you might be an assassin. No need to be embarrassed.” With a smile, he leaned over and plucked a chicken feather from her braid, and she felt her blush deepen. His smile widened, and he suppressed another chuckle. “I’m sure I don’t look much better, I’ve had a rather rough day. If you like, you can get cleaned up in the back. Past the seats there, you will find a door. That’s my room; there is a shower and a mirror.” She glanced toward the back, with obvious hope, and he motioned her away with his hand. “Go on, we will talk more after you are refreshed.”

Hesitantly, she stood and moved to the smaller of her two trunks for fresh clothing. The material inside shone softly in the ship’s pale light and she felt her breath catch. Silks and velvets lay where she had packed cotton. All the garments were rich in color, and some had jewels or fur. They all seemed too fine for day-to-day wear. With a bit of dismay, she opened the second trunk to look for simpler clothing. Inside were more of the same and another small wooden chest atop the rest. She opened it with curiosity. She hadn’t packed this. She didn’t even own a box like it. Inside cradled in velvet lining was jewelry of the sort she had never seen before. Rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and some stones she had no names for all cased in delicate gold and platinum. A queen’s fortune in jewels! She felt herself drop lightly back on her butt to sit directly on the ship’s floor.

“Problem?” Christian called from the front.

“No, nothing wrong, just trying to decide what to wear,” she called back, a bit too quickly. She bit her lower lip and hastily closed the jewel case. With another quick look at the clothing, she hastily decided on a deep purple silk dress, and on impulse grabbed a long silver colored jacket with white fur at the collar and cuffs. She admired it for a moment before folding it up with the dress; it was easily the finest garment she had ever laid eyes on. The fabric was so finely woven she couldn’t even see the threads. She couldn’t even guess what it was actually made of. It would most likely be too hot, but she had never worn silk before, and the material seemed too thin for decency. She felt her blush rise again when she finally found the small clothes tucked neatly in the bottom of the trunk. They were silk as well, and definitely not the ones she had packed. If she thought the dress was scandalous, she was wrong. These were truly scandalous. She reassured herself with the thought that she would be the only one seeing them, hastily gathered up her bundle of chosen clothing, and made her way to the back of the ship.

The door opened as she approached and she stepped through quickly and leaned back against it once it had closed. With a long sigh, she studied the room around her. It was neat and orderly, not at all what she had expected. The bed was made perfectly, without even so much as a wrinkle in the sheets, and there was not a mote of dust to be seen.

A wall-sized mirror covered the opposite side of the room, and she caught a good look at herself. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she mentally pictured the tirade Gretchen would throw if she could see her now. Most of her hair had come loose from the braid and here and there were chicken feathers tangled in it. Her dress still bore remnants of the flour she had gotten on herself from hugging the cook at the Temple and her face had streaks of dust on it. She looked every inch the urchin as Gretchen had described her. From the neatness of his bedroom, she was amazed Christian had even let her on his ship.

She crossed the room to the only door she could see, and moved inside. She wasn’t exactly sure on what a shower was, but from the way he had spoken it meant bath. Inside she found an indoor toilet such as the traveling priests had told her of, a small sink, and another smaller room with a glass door. No sign of a bathing tub. She carefully set the clothing down on the counter near the sink and pushed the glass door open to see inside the smaller room. A towel hung on the back wall of the room, and as she leaned farther in, her hand brushed against another panel which promptly lit up. Water abruptly began pouring from the ceiling of the room, and she let out a loud squeak as it soaked her head and chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped he hadn’t heard her squeak in the front.

“You can adjust the temperature on the panel,” she heard him faintly call back and felt her blush rise yet again. She was getting rather used to red rather than pale skin. With another sigh, she quickly stripped out of her clothing and stepped into the smaller room, closing the door behind her. Within moments of examining the small panel, she had sorted out how to adjust the temperature. She closed her eyes and turned her head up to let the water pour down over her face. She had so much to learn, and she doubted it would get any easier from here. At least she seemed to have found one friend, or so she hoped.

She emerged from the back room in the purple dress and the long silver coat, barefoot. She hadn’t thought to dig in the chests for shoes, and her own rough boots looked so shabby, she hadn’t even thought to put them on. Her old clothes were bundled carefully in her arms, and she prayed Christian wouldn’t notice how soaked her dress was. She wasn’t sure how she could explain she hadn’t known what a shower was without sounding like an idiot. She carefully wrapped the old clothes in her cloak to keep most of the dampness from the delicate fabrics inside the trunk, and dug in the bottom of both chests until she found a pair of suitable shoes. There were sandals that looked too fragile to stand up to long-term use. Both had long leather strands dyed silver to lace up her legs.

“Feel better?” Christian asked as she set the shoes on top of the trunk and moved back to the front seat. After the state he had seen her in before, surely he wouldn’t mind her going barefoot for a while. He eyed her clothing as she sat and gave her a nod of approval. “I liked the blue dress more, but you look good.”

She turned to stare at him, raising an eyebrow in question. “You truly liked my dust-stained and faded blue dress better?” she asked, incredulous.

He gave her a nod and a smile. “You looked more comfortable in it. And it had the look of wear on it. A favorite dress, I’m guessing. You seem more polished now to be sure, but less at ease. So, I prefer the one that doesn’t have you looking as though you are walking on glass,” he explained simply.

She gave a weary smile and nodded. “I’ve never worn anything this fine. I’m not even sure if it’s appropriate; it seems too nice not to save for a special occasion.”

He gave a light laugh and nodded. “It’s appropriate for admissions at the Academy, don’t worry about that. You might need a bit of jewelry, though. I don’t know many girls that don’t walk around covered in jewels. And shoes, those would be good as well.” He grinned at the last. “In truth, I don’t care much for the fancy clothing either, and I will have to get changed before we leave the ship. But for now, I’d rather be comfortable.” She returned his smile, and felt herself relaxing in his company. He didn’t seem at all like Fortune had predicted the High Lord’s children to be. Unless this was an incredible act, he was quite nice. And she couldn’t see why he would be pretending to be nice.

“So, what Aspect is the Temple you are from dedicated to?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure if he was actually curious or just making small talk.

“Fortune. There are altars for healing and love there, as well, but I follow Fortune.”

He gave a rough snort of amusement and a quick nod. “Well, that certainly explains how we met. Your god must love you.”

She gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“It was a stroke of incredibly bad luck that landed me in Brannaford. On a normal day, I never would have considered landing there, but was forced to for repairs. In turn, it was amazingly good luck that you found a ship there at all. Most spell hawk pilots ignore Brannaford’s sky port. It just isn’t worth stopping for.”

She nodded her understanding and gave him a slight grin. “How exactly is it that you ended up with part of a tree wrapped in the wing of your ship when you say you are the best pilot?” To her vast amusement it was his turn to blush. He cleared his throat and frowned at her.

“That’s not exactly something I want to discuss. Perhaps I’ll explain later, but for now, let’s leave it at bad luck.” His blush deepened as she eyed him with growing curiosity. He gave a long sigh and pulled a silver case from his trousers. With a practiced flip, he opened the case and pulled a slender cigarette from it. He lit it with another flick of his finger and took a long drag from it. She shook her head at the blatant use of magic and chided herself gently. Between Fortune and Christian, she should be getting used to seeing magic worked so effortlessly. She would have to hide her shock of it better once she got to Sanctuary. She had a feeling she would see a lot more of it there. He exhaled slowly and gave her a roguish grin, “You know the fact that I landed with one wing disabled on a sky port as rough as Brannaford’s, should prove I’m the best pilot.”

“I’m not even sure what a good sky port looks like, but I’ll take your word for that,” she replied with a smile.

“Now since we have mutually decided to skip the embarrassing details of my arrival let me see your admission slip and we will figure out which circle of the Academy you will be in.”

She grinned at his abrupt change in topic, and fished the slip from her coat pocket. It was still in its envelope. Father Belson had simply instructed her to deliver it to the Admissions hall at the Academy. They would explain everything from there. So she hadn’t even looked at it. “What do you mean, circle?” She asked as she handed it over to him.

“There are five circles of the Academy,” he began as he tore the envelope open carefully. “The number of the circle determines the level of training you are to receive. The fifth circle is the easiest. That’s the least schooling usually only lasting about a year. Simple business training for menial jobs, such as minor accountants and such. Fourth is a bit more in depth but not much. It’s for scribes and small business owners. Third is more advanced: merchant sons, physicians...” His voice trailed off as he examined the slip carefully, seeming to reread it a time or two before he turned to look at her. His expression was not one she could easily read. “Second is for mages, half-blood lords, and such. It’s a much longer time and most outside of those areas don’t bother with it. The first circle is mostly just High Lord’s children. The study is far too intensive to be of use to most, so no one but the High Lords usually bothers with it.”

She nodded at his explanation and motioned to the slip. “So which circle am I?” she asked, expecting perhaps fourth, but there was a chance it might be third. She pondered for a moment as to which circle she would prefer.

“First,” he answered, watching her reaction. She looked at him in shock, and he nodded slowly. “I have a lot to teach you about the Bloodlines apparently. You are a kitten and whoever paid this Admission is tossing you in amongst the wolves.” He handed the slip back to her and gave her another considering look. “Each Bloodline has its own wing of the dormitory. It would never work if they pushed us all in together, we would kill each other off before we had a chance to learn anything. We are granted several rooms and our retainers or allies usually occupy those rooms. If you wish, you may stay in my wing. I’ll grant you what protection I can, but the choice is ultimately yours.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied almost before he had finished speaking. She smiled at his expression. “If Fortune went so far to have us meet, I will not ignore the offered chance. After the luck it required for us to meet, how could you expect a different answer?”

With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat and tapped her knee lightly. She glanced at him momentarily before looking back toward the view screen. After the second glance, he gave another chuckle and raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” he asked with obvious amusement.

“I want to ask another question, but I’m afraid of sounding like more of a twit than I have already,” she explained.

“As far as I know, questions are the best way to learn, and I don’t think you are a twit. I think you have been very sheltered, but that’s not a bad thing, though. You will have an open mind and that’s something not many can claim. Most of us are raised in a rather biased fashion, and our opinions are formed from our parents’ opinions. So ask, and I will try to give the most neutral answer that I can, so my personal views don’t cloud your judgment.”

She hesitated for another moment and then sighed. “You said Bloodlines. Is that another word for the High Houses or is that different?”

He shook his head at her lightly. “Now see that is not a stupid question at all, that’s a rather important detail. All High Houses are of an Immortal Bloodline, but not all Immortal Bloodlines have High Houses. Some choose to remain neutral and leave leadership to others. Some individuals choose their own path away from their families and become mercenaries or Aspects. It really is a confusing mess, if you are coming into it blindly. I can look at most and tell from their appearance what Bloodline they are. You will have a much more difficult time.”

“So if I need to know something I will pester you with questions.” She grinned at him.

He gave her a nod another smile. “Well there it is then, though I don’t consider questions pestering. Now, lean back and relax, and I will bore you to death with the rules of the Academy. They are good to know but tedious to learn.” She leaned back with a smile and nodded for him to begin. She was content with the sound of his voice and the view of the world passing beneath her on the view screen. This was definitely better than any other ship she could have booked passage on.

Chapter 6

Sanctuary

“Are we going to announce ourselves to the underworld here?” Isador asked. Her eyes were fixed on their surroundings rather than him, Charm noted with approval. It was always a pleasure to work with a professional and Isador was just that. Her light brown hair was braided tightly and bound into a bun on the back of her head, keeping it tidily out of the way should she need to move quickly. Her clothing was purely functional dark linens and silks, with plenty of pockets. She wore a form fitting jacket rather than a cloak. Soft leather gloves and boots completed the ensemble. At her side hung a veritable armory of daggers, dirks, throwing knives, and even a whip. She looked relaxed as if she were lounging in a park rather than standing in a pitch black trash-covered alley in the worst part of the city. She wasn’t in much danger, though, he supposed. It would take a fool to pick a fight with anyone armed as heavily as she was, but then the world was filled with fools.

His gaze flicked down the alley at a noise, and his hand dropped to a dagger on instinct. With disgust, he watched a plump rat shoulder through the trash in search of food. He kept his senses alert for the next few moments, noting from the corner of his eye that Isador was doing the same with her slim gloved hand resting on a dagger, as well. When no further noise or movement came he looked back to her. “I don’t think so. Hemlock rules the shadows here, and I’d sooner slit my own throat than ask his permission for anything,” he said answering her question at last. He knew Hemlock from beyond the barrier. The man was ruthless and cruel and not at all sane. The less he saw of the man, the happier he would be.

“You know I typically do spy work. I’m afraid I don’t have much practice as a guardian,” she said, apparently satisfied with his answer.

“Normally, I’m lifting particular items or shutting certain mouths. I can’t say that I’ve ever guarded anything other than myself in my life,” Charm replied with a smile. “It’s a girl, though, and an unknown one. How hard can it be?”

“A sheltered innocent, most likely sweet and beautiful girl, dropped in the middle of the largest city in the world, among the young spoiled and jaded youth of all of the High Houses…” She paused, looking toward the glow in the center of the city. “During the Spring Games, the most popular festival in the world that is known to triple the population of the city for several weeks.”

“You see, it will be much easier than what they usually ask us to do; practically a vacation,” Charm said with a grin.

She gave a light laugh and returned the smile. “So, where do you want to start?” She asked.

“First, we set ourselves up at the Academy. It shouldn’t be hard due to that place being a labyrinth. We should be able to find a safe spot quickly.” He moved slowly out of the alley they stood in, taking care to stick to the shadows. Both of them were professionals and being spotted or heard shouldn’t be an issue unless one of the NightBlades happened to be in the area. The NightBlades were the ruling force of Sanctuary’s underworld. Typically, they were every bit as professional as the two of them, but it was doubtful they would be here. This part of the city had once belonged to Merro and was now in such ruin there was no profit to be had. The few citizens that remained were too poor for anyone to think of stealing from them, and anyone worth an Assassin’s contract had long ago been killed. “Once we have ourselves set up, we work out shifts. Neither of us needs much sleep, so we will work in rotation. I want to do more than just watch the girl. I’d like to keep an eye on others, as well. Anything we can gather of importance will help. We will keep the girl as our main priority, of course, but for the two of us that is a task too simple. I myself will grow bored quickly if all I have for entertainment is babysitting.”

“Agreed. I can’t say I’m too excited about watching over a teenager. If she is anything like I was at that age, I’ll be wanting to throttle her every other minute for blundering,” Isador replied.

Charm glanced at her in amusement. “Blundering, eh? I can’t quite picture that from you.”

She made a half snort half laugh sound. “All teenagers are brainless, Charm, and I’m sure you were, as well. I fell in and out of love weekly, every time thinking he had to be the perfect one. And no matter how petty, every little thing seemed a disaster from a ruined dress to random gossip. It is all earth shattering to a girl at that age.”

“I can’t say I ever had quite that problem. I didn’t grow up in normal society. I trained from the day I could hold a dagger to my twentieth year. Perhaps that is why they kept me so busy with learning, so I wouldn’t have time to be foolish,” he replied. “By the time I left my home my only interest was gathering the coin to pay off my mentor for his training.” He scratched the back of his neck and smiled. “I probably should have gotten around to doing that before I was thrown into this prison.”

Isador gave a soft chuckle. “You are one of the oldest Immortals I know Charm. How did you evade that debt for so long?” she asked, her eyes still roving over the city they crossed.

He snorted in amusement. “I learned my lessons better than my mentor would have liked. Greed was one of his lessons. I decided I’d rather evade him than part with my well-earned hoard.” He spared a glance up at a ramshackle building that seemed ready to fall down at any moment and watched the child seated on the balcony. She couldn’t have been more than eight, and to see her out so late with no lights on behind her in the house made his suspicions rise. She could quite possibly be an informant for the guild. Children were low cost for them to maintain and easily ignored. He watched the child shift slightly and noted the sickly thinness of her stick-like limbs wrapped in flesh. She gave a weak cough that sounded thick and huddled closer to the building. Not eyes for the guild he decided, too weak and sick to be of use to them. He paused in his step and watched the child a minute longer. Isador stopped beside him and followed his gaze. She flicked a questioning glance to him. “I hate moments like this,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “If I give her food it won’t save her. If I give her money, she will be robbed. If I take her to shelter in a better part of the city, I will be noticed.”

“And if you heal her, you announce your presence, as well. Either by the magic being sensed or the girl telling the tale,” Isador finished.

“And yet if I walk away and leave a sick and starving child to fend for herself, what am I?” He asked with a sigh.

“Professional. We do what we do for the whole, not for the individual. We cannot save them all, Charm,” Isador replied.

He shook his head in disagreement. “It is the individuals that make the whole,” he said as he moved closer to the building. His eyes flashed over the structure and quickly found a way up despite the rot in the wood. With silence and skill earned over centuries, he scaled the building and dropped lightly on the balcony near the child. She did not even look up. He held his breath at the stench of the area, forcing himself to ignore it. There was death in the room beyond her and from the scent of it more than one body. The child was dirty and starved, her small face looking more like a skull than the living. There was no sign of the Veir plague, as he had feared at his first closer look. Still keeping to the shadows he moved past the child and into the apartment. The smell was too overwhelming to ignore. He felt his gorge rise and pushed it back down. There were three bodies lying haphazard across the room - an infant and another child perhaps the age of five. However, judging the age of a body that far gone was difficult. A grown woman’s body, presumably the mother, lay against the wall battered so badly he could still see signs of the wounds despite the decomposition.

He glanced at the two dead children and then moved back to the balcony for the third child. He could recognize the signs easily enough by each child’s different hair color. The woman had most likely earned her living in the alleys raising her skirts for whatever coins she could get. The children were a side product of that trade, often unwanted and rarely loved. The higher class whores could afford charms or magics to keep themselves barren, but a back alley whore had no such luxury. He wasn’t sure if the woman had died from her last beating or from some disease she had caught at the trade. He had seen this sight before, too often in fact. Given his trade, he often found himself in alleys, and when one needed information, whores were a wealth of knowledge. He knelt down and looked at the child, likely she had been half-starved before her mother’s death. In this part of the city, even if she had the strength to forage for food, there was nothing to steal. Her eyes were dull and lifeless she had given up hope.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he said, echoing words he himself had heard so very long ago, though he had been better off than this child. “I can give your life back, or I can end it quickly with no suffering. What would you have?” he asked.

She looked up at him and seemed not to comprehend him for a moment. She gave a slight shudder and coughed again, the sound deep in her chest. He waited patiently, hoping she would choose his first option. He had no taste for killing, but he would not leave a child to starve to death, cold and alone. If she hadn’t the will to live, he would send her as painlessly as he could onto the next life. “Why would anyone want to live here?” she asked in a wavering voice harsh from disuse.

“Because here is not the only place. Life is full of choices. In death, there is but one,” he replied.

“I don’t care about choices anymore; I don’t want any of this.” She turned her head away from him and slumped back against the wall.

Charm closed his eyes and slowly drew his dagger with loathing. It had barely cleared its sheath when the child jolted slightly and slumped farther back against the wall, sliding over to rest limply against the balcony railing. He looked up sharply to find Isador perched neatly above him as silent as the shadows around her. She stepped down off the railing and calmly drew her throwing knife from the child’s eye. She cleaned it with detached efficiency and put it back in its sheath at her waist. She looked down at the child’s body and then to Charm. “If putting Symphony in charge of this world stops this sort of thing, I’ll fight tooth and nail to see her crowned.” Her voice was flat and level with no emotion whatsoever.

Charm gave a slight nod and watched her for another long moment before standing. Some individuals he had met had that ability, to shut off everything inside. Isador was apparently one of them, for he himself had never mastered the skill. He could no more shut off his emotions than he could stop breathing. “I’d burn the place if I thought it wouldn’t take this entire district down. Let’s get out of here, the smell is too much,” he said trying to sound as calm as she did.

“I always wondered why you joined the Fionaveir, Charm. I finally have my answer. You may be greedy and unscrupulous, but you do have heart,” Isador said with an approving nod. She dropped down from the balcony and quickly disappeared into the shadows.

Charm smirked and took one last glance at the child. Only an orphan could truly relate with another orphan he mused. His mother hadn’t been a whore, though, and he had never known her. He hadn’t watched her die as this child had watched her own mother waste away. His had been a victim of rape and had died by her own hand soon after his birth. He wasn’t sure which was worse, watching a parent die or knowing your life caused their death. He had heart, that was true enough, but it was selective where it found mercy. That was part of the reason he had so readily accepted this assignment, though he wouldn’t bother telling anyone. From the information he had on the girl, she was an orphan as well, and unlike the waif before him, she had chosen life. So he would do everything in his power to ensure she kept that life. The NightBlades and High Lords are damned. He had no mercy for them, not a drop of it, and if he did his job correctly she would never even be aware she had a guardian angel. He smiled at the self-given title. It was an ironic thought. The smile still in place, he dropped down to join Isador. They had much to do before their new charge arrived.

Chapter 7

Sanctuary

“So what you are telling me is the teachers at the Academy are not even real people?” Her tone was incredulous. They were on the third hour of everything he could possibly think to tell her about the Academy. The rules had been covered in the first hour, and then they had moved onto the Academy grounds, which she was sure could not possibly be as large as he described.

“No, what I said is, most of the teachers are constructs,” Christian clarified, his voice full of his seemingly endless patience. “The ones for the more elite classes, such as Arcane Arts, Chemistry, and Arcanetech are actual people.”

His posture abruptly changed and he sat up quickly and pulled hard on the steering of the ship, bringing them into a sweeping descent. The maneuver caught her so off guard that she nearly fell out of her seat before she managed to sit up fully and cling to the chair arms.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she demanded in a panic stricken voice.

He gave a laugh in response and a huge smile. With one hand, he indicated the view screen. “Watch and you will see.”

She stared at in bewilderment and turned to gaze at the view screen. With a start, she realized they were barely five feet above the black waters of the ocean. Night had long ago fallen and she had ceased watching the view screen at all, but she was sure they had been much higher. How had he managed to dive the ship so far and so fast?

Her frantic thoughts froze as a massive form loomed up on the view screen. She thought it was a cliff at first until it turned its head to regard them. As they rushed closer details became clearer. The massive form’s serpentine body was adorned with thickly scaled skin, combined with a huge fanged mouth big enough to swallow the ship. The creature gave a bellow that shook the interior of the ship and Jala felt her chest tighten in terror. Her hands dug into the arms of her chair and she fought back the urge to scream. “Oh, Fortune, what are you doing? Fly away from it, not into its mouth! Oh, Fortune! Oh, Fortune!” Her voice was somewhere between a gasp and a scream and she realized she was babbling. She abruptly clamped her mouth shut and noticed he was laughing. He was about to feed them to a gods-only-knew what kind of creature that was, and he was laughing.

At the last possible moment, he pulled the ship around, bringing it under the jaws and through a twining loop of the creature’s body and back into the air. She wasn’t sure if it had been her imagination or not, but she truly thought she had heard the creature’s jaws slamming shut. She slowly turned to look at him, with her jaw dropped open and her eyes huge. “What in Fortune’s name was that?” she demanded.

“I wasn’t sure if you had ever seen a serpent before. I doubted you had. They aren’t usually this close to Sanctuary, so I decided to show off a bit and show you something at the same time,” he replied through his dying laughter. He raised his eyebrows at her a couple times and gave another chuckle. “Oh, Fortune, indeed.”

She glared at him and slowly released the death grip she had on the chair. He was entirely too amused. “You could have given me a bit of warning,” she snapped in annoyance.

“Didn’t want to ruin the surprise, and if he had dived before I got there I would have looked rather foolish,” he replied, oblivious to her annoyance. “Not sleepy anymore are you though?”

“No, not at all,” she admitted. “Traumatized perhaps, but certainly not tired.”

“Oh come now, it wasn’t that bad. I would think a follower of Fortune would have more of a sense of adventure,” he teased.

She gave him a light glare in response. He gave her another roguish smile, and she felt her glare fading.

“Look,” he said, pointing back to the view screen.

She turned her attention to where he indicated and saw a vast glow on the horizon growing by the second. “That’s Sanctuary?” she asked in awe, her irritation completely forgotten.

He gave a slight nod. “She always looks better at night. At night, she is beautiful and you cannot see her scars.” His voice had gone low and thoughtful. He slowed the ship once they were close enough to make out the individual lights. “You can tell the quarters by what color the lights are,” he explained.

She stared down at the rainbow of lights below them. The city was shaped like an enormous wagon wheel, and the center was lit with pristine white lights. The area around it glowed with a rainbow of different colors depending on where one looked.

“Some of the sections are different colors, and others are simply yellow, and I see two that aren’t even lit up,” she said, looking to him for an explanation.

“The multi colored ones belong to Houses. See the blue and silver lights?” With his hand, he indicated a large area to the north, and she nodded. “That’s Morcaillo’s section of Sanctuary. The yellow colored ones are neutral quarters where the House that would have normally tended them has fallen. The two lightless quarters belong to House Dark of Oblivion and House Blackwolf of Glis. They don’t use lights because they aren’t needed there. The lightless one closest to my own quarter belongs to House Dark.” He was turning the ship toward the lights in the center of the city as he explained, and gradually they began to descend toward a perfectly straight row of white lights that seemed to stretch for a very long way.

“The lights are all magical, aren’t they? Why aren’t they needed in those two districts?” She asked the first of the hundred questions she had running through her mind.

“Yes, they are magical; most of Sanctuary runs on magic. The Dark’s don’t need the lamps because their part of the city is virtually deserted. They retreated back to Oblivion during their war with Merro. The Blackwolf’s section is dark because most of them are shifters and don’t need the lights. They see just fine in the dark.” He landed the ship and gave her a wink. “I have to get cleaned up quickly, and then we will head to the Academy and you can ask all the questions you want as we walk.”

She watched him go and leaned back in her seat. To her vast disappointment the view screen had gone black when he released the controls. She stared ahead at the darkened wall and tried to narrow down her questions to a reasonable few before he returned. There was so much she wanted to know, but she knew she would have to pace herself or she might find the end of his patience with her.

She was carefully choosing jewelry when he returned to the front of the ship. She looked up and watched him fastening the last buttons on a deep blue vest. She caught herself staring. He wore dark blue pants and polished black knee high boots. His silver silk shirt was flawless, seeming more like liquid metal than fabric, and the vest he was buttoning was covered in embroidery so fine she shuddered at the time it must have taken to create. His hair had been styled, as well. And she noticed blond highlights in the auburn that she hadn’t seen before.

He glanced up, and raised an eyebrow when he noticed her watching him. “Ready?” he asked.

“I’m so glad you were out of sorts when I met you, I don’t think I would have had the nerve to speak with you had you looked as you do now. You definitely look like a High Lord’s son now,” she said quietly, the jewelry forgotten for the moment. She had been talking to him for hours now, and all of a sudden she felt herself becoming shy. It made no sense at all. He was still Christian. Only the clothing had changed.

He smirked and pulled on a long deep blue leather coat that fit snuggly at the shoulders and flared toward the bottom, brushing lightly against the backs of his boots. “In that case, I’m glad I looked disheveled as well.”

“I’ll be ready as soon as I decide what jewelry to wear. I don’t even know what some of this is,” she admitted with a sigh.

He moved and knelt down beside her, resting easily on the toes of his boots with perfect balance and she tried to ignore how good he smelled. “Let’s see.” He began moving pieces aside and glanced at her dress and jacket a couple of times before selecting a slender amethyst choker and matching earrings. He dropped them in her hands wordlessly and moved a few more pieces before choosing a few rings and some silver bracelets. “That should do nicely. So, what in here are you unsure of the purpose of?”

With a frown, she held up a silver net with small black gems set at intervals where the wires crossed each other. “This,” she said. “There are two of them, and I have no idea what they are.”

He smiled and took it from her hands gently and turned it over to rest across the back of his hand. “It’s a hair net, you put this part on my hand across the back of your hair when it’s pinned up and fasten these clips just so.” He demonstrated the fastenings, and she nodded.

“I would have never figured that out,” she admitted ruefully.

He gave a shrug and stood. “I like your hair down, and if you choose never to use them you will hear no objections from me.”

She smiled and quickly donned the jewelry he had selected. She closed the trunks back up and stood slowly, looking down at them and then back to him. “Should we hire a coach or are you going to carry them with magic again?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow and waved his hands at the trunks, and they both disappeared. She stared down at where they had been and when she looked back up at him, he dropped two small dark stones in her hand. She looked down at the stones and back at him with confusion written clearly on her face.

“When we reach your rooms simply break the stones. They are called storage stones. It’s a temporary transport spell that will last for about eight hours,” he explained.

“Handy,” she said and examined the stones closer. By all appearances, they were simply well polished smooth black stones. They didn’t look magical at all. She glanced over at Christian, hoping he wasn’t teasing her and that the trunks were really inside the stones. If he was, she was going to look very foolish trying to break the rocks later.

He gave her a questioning glance and motioned toward the door. She nodded and headed that way. As they stepped down from the ship, he waved his hand back at it and it disappeared as well. He held up a shiny stone for her to see. Rather than a plain black rock it looked to be a small diamond about the size of a bird’s egg. “This variety lasts longer. The better quality of stone it appears to be the longer the item will be contained. This will last for about a month. I won’t leave my ship in there that long, but if I need to, I can.”

“You don’t leave it at the sky port?” She asked. She could see other ships docked at regular intervals around them, and she noted mentally that of all the ships, his was the only one that was plain grey. The rest were brightly painted and gleamed like jewels in the mage light.

“No, too many know The Shade is mine, and I don’t want anyone to sabotage her,” he answered quietly. He dropped the diamond into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled a pair of glasses out of another. They were of deep blue glass with delicate platinum frames. He carefully unfolded them and put them on.

She raised an eyebrow at him. She had seen the colored glasses before. Father Timmons had a pair he used on very sunny days when he was traveling. She had never seen anyone wear them at night, though. And while the round glasses did look good on him, she couldn’t see the point in wearing them now, and she rather liked being able to look into his eyes. He had expressive eyes that seemed to sparkle when he was amused. They were the perfect shade of blue, not too dark nor washed out. With a jab of panic, she wondered if he could read minds like Fortune had. She gave him a sideways glance, and when he showed no reaction let out a short quiet sigh of relief.

“Sun bothering you?” she asked with obvious sarcasm, more to get her mind from its previous wandering than from her desire to tease him.

He gave her a grin and leaned toward her. “See the runes?” he asked.

Now that he had pointed them out, she did see tiny inscriptions around the edges of the blue glass. They were so small that, unless you were looking for them, you wouldn’t notice them. She gave him a slight nod.

“They’re enchanted. I see better at night with them on, and they will nullify spells such as invisibility or a shadow cloak,” he explained as he began walking toward the edge of the sky port at a leisurely pace.

“You really are paranoid, aren’t you? Do you really have that many people trying to kill you?” she asked.

“You will be too, once you’ve lived in Sanctuary a while. As to how many are trying to kill me, currently I have no idea, but I always find it safer to assume at least five to keep me on my toes.”

She fell into step beside him as they made their way down a set of stairs that never seemed to end. She could see most of the inner city from this height. In the distance, there was an immense circular building with what looked like statues lining the roof. Each statue was lined in faint mage light of varied colors. “This is the inner city. That building you are staring at is the Arena.” He indicated the circular building with a half-hearted wave in its direction. “No one house rules here. It is deemed neutral ground, and the penalty for bloodshed here is death or exile. That’s any kind of bloodshed, even simple brawling. The only exception is when the Justicars perform an execution.” He cast a glance around them as they walked. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen though. The common Immortal belief is this: if you can do it without anyone knowing you did it, it’s legal.”

“So, essentially, no place is safe?” she asked. Her eyes moved to the sides of the stairway they were traveling down, and suddenly found herself wishing there was some kind of railing. It seemed to her if she lived in a city where everyone wanted to kill her, she would want railings on all the stairs.

He seemed to consider the question. “Essentially, I suppose. Some places are safer than others. I don’t worry when I’m in my ship, and I’m not as paranoid in my home country. There aren’t many places I let my guard down in Sanctuary, though, unless I have close friends nearby.” He gave her a smile. “This is a morbid topic, though. You should be enjoying the sights. Sanctuary is all dressed up this week for the Spring Games and Academy Admissions. She isn’t usually this lit up, so it’s a special occasion for her.”

“Spring Games?” she repeated, her tone questioning.

“It’s where we all get dressed up in pretty armor and pretend we are friends and try to kill each other in various contests, while pretending we don’t actually want to kill each other.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Well, at least most of them do anyway. I myself do not Joust. I am horrible with a bow, and I won’t enter the ring of swords because it would require me to fight friends, and I will not fight a friend.” He motioned behind them as they stepped off the last stair onto the street below. “There will be a sky race as well. That’s why so many spell hawks are in town.” He spoke quietly so his voice wouldn’t carry.

“Will you be in it?” she asked, keeping her own voice low, as well.

He gave a slight shake of the head and she thought she saw a flicker of disappointment on his face. “No, not this year. I won last year’s by over thirty minutes, and my father wasn’t at all pleased.”

She looked at him in confusion. “I would have thought he would be proud that you had won. My father always beamed when I succeeded at something.” She felt a small pang at the mention of her father but pushed it back down quickly. This was neither the time nor the place to get misty-eyed.

“Spell hawk speed is determined by your magical strength, so he feels that by not fighting and proving my martial strength I have just made myself a bigger target by showing off my magical strength.” He glanced at her expression and grinned. “I can see the question without your asking. If I have magical strength, couldn’t I defend myself with magic? The answer is yes, but in doing so, I drain myself and leave myself open to an attack from another side. That’s what keeps Immortals from blowing each other to bits with spells. We only have so much in reserve, and if we use too much, we become vulnerable. That’s where swords and bows come in. The general rule is melee first and magic if you must.”

“So, by refusing to fight against your friends, others may believe you cannot use a sword well, and magic is your only defense,” she said cautiously, and he nodded. “So the only way you could enter the sky race and keep your father happy would be to enter the sword contest and prove you can fight well,” she concluded.

“Exactly!” he agreed with a nod.

“Why exactly do they have an Academy if they all want to kill each other? It seems rather foolish to send your children to school with enemies,” she said.

“There are two types of Immortals in the prison, those with the will to fight, and those that provoke the fights. Those willing to fight, built the Academy in hopes that if we, the children of the Houses, were placed together we might get along. So far it has mostly failed. Those provoking the fight went along with the idea for a couple of reasons. On one hand, it gave them a chance to spy, while on the other hand it gave them a chance to find suitable marriages,” he explained.

“They marry their enemies?” she asked, incredulous.

He gave a slight nod. “When they have to. They have three choices in that. Incest, weakening the blood by mating with mortals or half-bloods, or marry another High House. However, not all choose the enemy.”

They walked along for a bit in silence while she pondered all he had told her, and she tried not to gawk at the buildings they passed. Most of them had mage lights enhancing the architecture. Here and there, she would see a mural covering a wall and silently promised herself to come back and see them in the daylight as soon as she had the time. When she showed an overwhelming interest in a building or fountain, he would slow his steps enough to allow her a closer look, without a word of complaint.

“Thank you for everything, Christian. I had thought I would be fine here on my own, but with everything you have shown me and taught me in just the short time I’ve known you, I realize how lost I would have been,” she said as he slowed his steps for perhaps the tenth time since they had left the stairs. It was a fountain that had caught her attention this time. It was solid white marble with a statue of a man holding an upraised sword on a rearing horse crowning it. The details on it were so precise it was as if someone had encased a living animal in stone and placed it on display.

“Think nothing of it,” he replied. He gave her a smile and tucked his hands into his coat pockets, his pace slow, giving her plenty of time to look the statue over. “That’s actually one of my favorites in the entire city. It’s about three hundred and fifty years old, though it certainly doesn’t look it.”

She looked from the statue to him. “It looks as though it had a name plate, but I think it’s been stolen. Who is it?”

“It wasn’t stolen; it was removed when the man supposedly dishonored himself. That’s Caspian, former High Commander of the Justicars. That building in front of the fountain is the Hall of the Justicars.” He smirked slightly. “I’m sure it galls the Justicars to look on him daily.”

She looked past the fountain and studied the massive building behind it. It was perhaps three stories with five white columns lining the front. The columns appeared to have writing on them, but she didn’t want to approach any closer to read them. After Fortune’s story of the Justicars, she had lost all fascination with the organization. She could still remember her father’s reaction to her asking if he had been a Justicar, as well, and it doubled her desire to be away from the building.

“I’m surprised they didn’t have the entire statue removed instead of just the name plate.” She gave the statue one last look and moved back to his side.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a curious look over his glasses. “You know who Caspian is?” he asked.

She avoided looking at him, knowing she would have a look of dismay on her face, and focused on the cobbled street before them until she could master her expression. “What makes you say that?” she asked.

“You didn’t ask how he dishonored himself. If you didn’t already know you would have asked,” he replied with a smile.

She took a few more silent steps, trying to decide how best to answer. She would have to learn to watch her tongue better in the future. He did not miss a thing and she was not used to guarding her words. “I heard the story once,” she answered carefully, hoping he would let the topic drop.

“So you’ve heard the story of the Fionaveir but not the Creation of Sanctuary? Of the two, the Fionaveir is a much better story, one of my favorites, actually,” he mused aloud. He nodded slowly and gave her a glance. “And you are very uncomfortable right now, so I’ll drop the topic. Ask me another question and let’s get this conversation back to somewhere you are comfortable.”

“The city is so big, how do people get around it daily?” she asked with gratitude obvious in her voice and expression. She’d been pondering the question already and was more than happy for a change in conversation.

“Portal stones, horses in some quarters, or simply walking. It’s rather late now, so no one is really moving about, but in the daytime, these streets are teaming with buggies and such,” he answered. “I usually just walk myself. I rarely go far from the Academy when I’m in school, and when I’m not I live in my family’s quarter of the city, and everything I need is right in that area. The only time I travel to Morcath is to take my father his taxes.”

“So I’m not just lucky to have seen you in Brannaford, I’m really lucky,” she said with a chuckle.

“Only twice a year it could have happened,” he said with a nod. “I take the taxes to him in the spring and fall.”

“Shouldn’t someone other than his son be doing that? Or is there no one else he can trust with it?” she asked.

“It’s my job,” he replied simply. “It’s customary for the heirs of a house to rule their portion of Sanctuary since we aren’t likely to inherit our own homelands, given our parents are Immortal. On one hand, it keeps the heirs busy, and on the other, it trains us to govern if the event ever arises that we must take over our family lands. In my case, that won’t happen because I have an uncle that would be much more suited to the job than I would. In the extremely unlikely event my father is killed.”

“I had no idea you were the heir,” she admitted. “I thought your father had been here since the beginning.”

“He has.” He gave her a glance and gave a snort of amusement. “I am young to be the heir. My father had other children, but they died before I was born. He doesn’t speak of them, so I’m not sure exactly how they died. That isn’t the sort of question you ask anyone outside your own house.”

He led her around another corner and stopped in front of a wrought iron gate, big enough for a ship to sail through. Beyond it stretched a tree-lined road with wide open grass fields on either side. She looked through the gate curiously as he produced a key and opened a smaller gate fashioned into the right side of the larger one. He stepped back, pulled it open, and motioned her through. She stepped lightly through and felt the air tingle on her skin as she passed under the iron.

“Is this a park?” she asked, confused as to why they would have a locked gate on a park.

He gave a light chuckle and locked the gate behind them. “No, this is the front gate of the Academy,” he answered. He began walking again, and she quickly fell into step beside him. “Once we get past the first trees you will see the school itself. If the school were actually in session right now, you would see the lights from here. However, the main buildings will be dark for the next week, though.”

“But I thought it was supposed to be one of the biggest buildings in Sanctuary?”

“It is. You will see soon,” he replied.

She gave him another glance and remained silent. They walked for nearly ten minutes before they were actually past the first trees. She was still examining the last of them, admiring the large white blooms that seemed to cover the upper branches when she realized he was no longer walking. She looked over at him curiously wondering what had stopped him. With a slight smile, he simply pointed straight ahead down the path. She raised an eyebrow and turned to look. With a gasp, she realized why she hadn’t noticed the Academy building from the gate. It was dark stone that blended well with the shadows of the night and took up most of the horizon in front of her. Her jaw dropped open at the sheer size of it. Row after row of windows glinted faintly in the starlight. She couldn’t even fathom a guess as to how tall it was, nor had she imagined a building could be that big.

“There are over eight thousand rooms in all of the buildings combined. The entire grounds cover seventy acres, and there are stables behind the school that hold two hundred horses. A science building that literally holds five different environments inside it. A blacksmith with fifty forges.” He smiled at her. “I told you it was big. Next time I tell you something is big, you should listen.” He gave her another grin.

Her eyes roved over the various paths and arches and columns with dismay. “I’m never going to find my way around this place,” she whispered.

“Meh…you’ll be fine.” He draped an arm across her shoulder and pointed with the other hand toward the northern most side of the school. “That is the common dorm, you won’t go anywhere on that side of the school.” He motioned toward the southern side. “That is mostly classrooms for the fifth through third circles. You won’t have to bother with that either.” He gave her a reassuring look. “See, close to half of the school you won’t even need to go near, learning the rest will be easy.”

“If you say so,” she replied doubtfully.

“C’mon, with luck, my household is still awake. I’d like you to meet them tonight, and then we can find you a room.” He dropped his arm back down from her shoulder and began walking again.

She gave a last look at the school and followed quietly, trying to fight down her growing dread of the Academy. I should never have gotten into the coach. I should have stayed at the Temple, she whispered to herself quietly so he wouldn’t hear.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he whispered back so quietly that she barely caught the words.

They made their way past the main building in silence, and she tried desperately to memorize the winding path he led her on between the buildings. By the time they finally came to a stop in front of one of them, she was completely lost, despite her best efforts. They had passed courtyards and statues and fountains beyond counting, and they had begun to blur in her memory after the first few. All she could think of now was getting the sandals off her feet and sitting down for a very long while. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but the day seemed longer than any other she could remember. Had she really just left the Temple this morning? How was that possible? She gave a slight yawn, and realized dimly he was watching her.

“I should have used a portal stone to get us here. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You look dead on your feet,” he said with a look of concern. “I thought you might want to see some of the city. I didn’t consider how tired you must be.” He produced another key from his pocket and began quickly to unlock the dark wooden door in front of him.

“It’s OK. I enjoyed seeing the city. It’s just all catching up with me now and it has been a very long day.” She said in a sleepy voice and almost yawned mid-sentence. She watched him push the door open and motion her through. As she passed by him, she noticed a large pair of twining snakes carved into the door. They were forming a circle and seemed to be wrapped around each other head to tail. “What’s that stand for?” she asked, indicating the carving.

He glanced at the snakes before closing and relocking the door. “That’s my house sigil,” he answered without pause and began moving quietly down the hall.

She walked beside him barely noticing her surroundings as they went. They passed perhaps five doors before he turned to one and quietly pushed it open. Dim lighting poured out into the hall; Christian peered inside silently and smiled. “Ahh…good, you are still awake.” He motioned her to follow and stepped into the room.

The room held the appearance of a parlor. Fine plush rugs covered the stone floor. A massive fireplace covered most of one wall though no fire burned there now. On one side of the room, there was a large leather couch where a young man sat with a small stack of books laid around him in a haphazard pile. He looked younger than Christian, perhaps even younger than Jala. His sandy brown hair was long and tied back in a ponytail. She couldn’t tell his actual height with him sitting, but he seemed slight. From the simple dark clothes he wore, she didn’t think him a High Lord’s child but wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem quite right for the part, though. He was too ordinary. She wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but her mind was too tired to search for another. He was smiling up at her widely though he didn’t show any signs of being about to speak. She gave him a quick smile back and went back to looking around hoping she wasn’t being too rude. His smile was a bit unsettling though.

On the other side of the room, was a small card table where two people sat, a man and a woman, both so alike they must be twins. They had dark hair, black from what she could tell but in a different light it might be dark brown. They were watching Christian as he approached, but she saw them give occasional glances to her, as well. Both of them wore black leather. The woman’s was tight fitting, and from what Jala could tell, was designed more for appearance than any sort of armor. Once again, she couldn’t gauge actual height, but it wasn’t hard to tell that both would be bigger than she was, if they stood. The man’s form was slightly bigger than his sister but not by much. They were easily the most intimidating people she had ever seen.

Christian dropped lightly into a chair across from them and shared a few quiet words, then seemed to notice she hadn’t followed him to the table. She glanced toward the couch and found the young man seated there still staring at her with the same smile. She gave him another quick smile and looked back to Christian. He gave her a reassuring look and waved her over.

She crossed the room quickly, to stand beside his chair. Perhaps too quickly, by the way the twins smiled. Their eyes were gold she noted. She had never seen anyone with gold eyes before. They were both attractive, as well. The man had a more dangerous look than Christian, but was still eye-pleasing, and the woman was still feminine and beautiful, despite her heavily toned muscles. They were studying her just as closely as she was them, she noticed with slight amusement. She saw the man give an approving nod of his head to Christian as she gave in and pulled out a chair to sit.

“This is Alex; he prefers to be called Lex.” Christian motioned toward the man. “And this is Aleah. She prefers to be called Leah. Don’t ask me why they hate the letter A so much. I’ve never been able to solve that particular mystery.” He motioned toward the woman and gave them both a grin that they readily returned. “Lex, Leah, this is Jala. She will be staying here with us.”

“You got a new kitten,” Leah said with obvious amusement. “Did you hear that, Madren, you aren’t the kitten anymore?” she called to the boy on the couch.

“He will always be a kitten,” Lex interjected quietly. “A mentally deficient. Should have been a drowned kitten,” he added with a faint smirk.

“And that is Madren,” Christian said, turning in his chair slightly to indicate the boy. “Lex and Leah are my swords. Madren is kind of a Historian for me. I say ‘kind of’ because it’s more of a general knowledge position. I just don’t have a better title for it at the moment. Pretty much he is a font of knowledge.”

She nodded her understanding, and he turned his attention back to the twins. “Did Oma already retire for the night?” Christian asked.

“Of course, it’s barely night anymore and dawn isn’t more than an hour or two off, Shade,” Leah replied through a yawn of her own.

“You were supposed to be back hours ago,” Lex pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Leave him be, Lex. He was obviously busy picking out a new kitten,” Leah chuckled.

“Don’t tease her, Leah. I doubt she is used to teasing. Give her time to get to know you before you torment her.” Christian’s tone was not angry, but it held no room for objection either.

Leah gave a nod. “You got it, Shade. No teasing the girl, only Madren,” she agreed readily.

Christian rolled his eyes and looked past Lex to a sword resting against the wall behind him. Jala had noticed it as well but had chosen to ignore it. They were intimidating enough without weapons. “Is that the new one, Lex?” He asked with obvious curiosity.

Lex reached behind him and pulled the sword over and casually set it before Christian on the table. “Finished it last night,” he said.

Jala stared at it in wonder. She couldn’t see how anyone could possibly fight with it. It looked to be at least her height in length, and the blade must have been eight inches wide near the hilt.

“You sure you actually know what a sword is, Lex? This looks more like a lance. Are you planning on using a horse when you fight with this beast?” Christian asked, without actually touching the sword.

As if to prove a point, Lex calmly reached over and picked the sword up by the hilt and held it straight above him without any obvious effort. He raised an eyebrow at Christian after a minute and then propped it back up against the wall behind him.

“Ok, point proven. You are tough, and I am a bitch. I bow before thee.” Christian gave a light chuckle and mocking bow as he spoke. Lex returned the grin and then slid him a bottle, still without a word.

Christian eyed the bottle doubtfully and looked up to Leah. “His newest batch?” he asked.

“Indeed. You are going to love this one,” Leah replied, trying hard to suppress a smile but failed miserably.

“What flavor is it?” Christian asked, his tone still doubtful.

“Try it and guess,” Lex urged as he pushed a glass over.

Christian looked at the bottle and then to Jala who was watching the exchange with tired curiosity. “I’d offer you some, but you really don’t want it, I’m guessing. Lex here, decided he is going to learn to make wine. Despite how often I try to convince him to stop, he keeps trying to learn,” he explained and then with obvious hesitation poured a glass. “It’s green, Lex,” he pointed out, the doubt thicker in his voice.

“Just try it, Shade,” Lex urged again.

Christian slowly picked up the glass and swirled it a moment watching the wine carefully before taking a sip. He held it in his mouth for a moment, his expression going from doubtful to what looked almost pained and then swallowed with obvious effort. He looked at the wine and then to Lex with a wounded expression. “Why?” he asked. Leah finally lost the fight with the smile and burst into merry laughter. Despite herself, Jala found herself laughing, as well.

Lex gave him a frown. “Could you tell what I used to make it?”

Christian smacked his lips together a couple of times, the wounded look still clear on his face. “I’m not really sure, Lex. Pickles?” he answered with a shrug.

Lex’s expression darkened, and both Jala and Leah laughed harder. “It was melon and apples,” Lex growled.

“What by the Aspects did you do to those apples before attempting to ferment them?” Christian demanded.

“I thought it was better than the last batch,” Lex grumbled.

“It was, but the last batch tasted faintly of dead fish, Lex. It doesn’t take much to improve on that,” Christian replied with a shrug. “You are missing your calling, my friend. Quit trying to make actual wine. Take the recipes you have now and sell them to the Justicars. They will get confessions from prisoners in record time without the mess of standard torture, and you will make a tidy profit,” Christian suggested. Leah burst into renewed laughter.

Jala fought down her own laughter and looked at Lex with sympathy. “Have you tried Jimpa fruit?” she asked. “It has a very sweet flavor and I’ve heard it makes good wine, though I’ve never tried it.”

Lex looked at her and frowned. “What is a Jimpa? I’ve never heard of that before.” He looked to Christian for the answer but found Christian staring at Jala with a thoughtful expression.

The answer came instead from the couch behind them. “A Jimpa is a fruit from a tree that grows wild in Merro only. There were a few attempts to cultivate it into an orchard fruit, but it required so much magic that the endeavor was deemed unworthy of the effort. No one was ever able to understand why it would only grow in Merro, or why it couldn’t be transplanted successfully,” Madren called to them in a happy voice.

Jala was watching Madren over her shoulder and purposefully keeping her face turned away from Christian. She’d had no idea Jimpa only grew in Merro. She had never seen any near Bliss but hadn’t thought anything of it. She slowly turned back around in her chair and glanced at Christian. He raised an eyebrow briefly but didn’t say anything.

“Well there goes that, I suppose. Nothing left in Merro. Thanks for the suggestion though.” Lex gave a sigh and spun the bottle of wine lazily.

She nodded quietly and decided to remain silent for the rest of the conversation.

“I probably need to show Jala to a room. She has had a long day.” Christian started to push his chair back, but Leah motioned him to wait.

She slid an envelope across to him. “This came for you earlier. Figured I’d wait till you were about to leave the room before I gave it to you, in the event it was bad news,” she explained with a smile.

Christian settled back into the chair and gave her a dry expression. “Gee, thanks, Leah.” He examined the seal quickly and tore it open. He read over it quickly and gave a sigh. “From my father. I have to meet with him in the morning. That changes my plans a bit.” He glanced over at Jala and then folded the letter and slid it into his pocket. He turned in his seat and looked toward the couch. “Madren!” he called and waited for the boy to look up from his book before continuing. “Jala needs help on basic knowledge of the Houses and Bloodlines. I want you to go over them with her tomorrow, all right?”

Madren gave a happy smile and nodded his head. “You got it, Shade, it’s a date,” he agreed happily.

“No.” Christian, Lex, and Leah all spoke the word at once, and Jala felt herself jump a bit. She glanced between them and back at Madren. The boy was looking a bit sheepish but nodded slightly.

“It is not a date, Madren. You are helping her learn. That’s it, understand?” Christian asked carefully and waited for the boy to nod again before he seemed satisfied. He turned back to Jala. “All right, I had planned to take you to the opening of the Spring Games, but I can’t ignore this summons. So, if you have no objections, Madren will help you get up to speed on things in the morning, and when I get back we can go watch Lex fight in the first round of swords.”

She nodded, still curious at the reaction they had toward Madren, but decided to ignore it. “That’s fine with me, as long as Madren doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Madren called happily.

Christian pushed his chair back and stood slowly. “Leah, plan on sticking around here tomorrow. I want you here just in case they need anything.”

Leah gave him an amused smile and a nod of understanding. “You got it, Shade,” she said with a smirk.

“Nice to meet you, Jala, and welcome to the Academy,” Lex said quietly as she stood to follow Christian.

“Nice to meet you, as well, Lex. Goodnight,” Jala replied with a smile and followed Christian into the hall.

“They all call you Shade,” she said as they left the room. She hadn’t mentioned it in front of the others, but it struck her as odd. “Is it a nickname?” she asked.

He gave a slight nod. “It is. I actually prefer it. Only my parents and strangers call me Christian anymore, and I tend to answer better to Shade,” he explained.

“Then I’ll switch to Shade, too, if you don’t mind,” she offered.

He nodded with a smile and led her quietly down several doors before stopping. He leaned against the wall beside the door and smiled at her again. “I’ve never actually had a Jimpa before. I saw them in a Merro market once when I was visiting there with my father,” he said quietly.

“Bliss is very close to the border,” she said with a shrug.

He gave a slight nod and reached over to turn the door knob. She couldn’t read from his expression whether or not he had accepted her answer and he was apparently willing to drop the topic. “This will be your room. The bed should be made, but no promises. It’s been empty for about five months, but it has spells in place to keep it fresh inside.”

She glanced inside and then back to him. “Will the owner be returning? I don’t want to take someone’s room,” she asked. If it had only been empty five months, there was a possibility they would be returning for admissions.

“No, he died in a duel,” he answered, and his expression showed he would rather not continue the discussion. Given how often he had let her steer away from uncomfortable topics, she was willing to let it go.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course, you wouldn’t give me someone else’s room,” she mumbled.

He gave her a shrug and let the door swing the rest of the way open and motioned down the hall a short way. “The blue door is mine. The one to the left of it is Leah’s, and the one to the right is Lex’s. Directly across the hall from mine is Oma’s, who you will meet tomorrow. As a general warning, she doesn’t talk to anyone but me. Please don’t be offended by that. I’ll explain when we aren’t exhausted. The one at the very far end of the hall past the parlor is Madren’s. If you need anything try my door first and then Leah’s.” He pushed off the wall and gave her a smile. “I think that about sums it up. Goodnight.” He gave her a wink and headed toward his own room.

She watched him for a moment and then stepped into her room. With a yawn, she closed the door behind her. The room darkened dramatically with the door closed. She frowned and considered hunting for the light but decided she was simply too tired to care. She gave her eyes a minute to adjust and then moved toward the darker shadow of the bed. With a soft grunt, she dropped boneless onto the edge of it and removed her sandals. She shrugged out of her coat and crawled to the center of the bed without even bothering to remove the fine silk dress. Sleep took her the moment her head touched the pillows, and for once in a very long time it was dreamless and peaceful.

Chapter 8

The Warrens

“Tell me why any self-respecting person would build their damn city underground?” Havoc growled. They had left their horses above hours ago and had been making their descent through the twisting narrow tunnels since then. The Warrens was perhaps one of the best named places in all of the lands. It was a maze of narrow, low tunnels with more dead ends than one could count. They had encountered at least three such dead ends in the last hour, and they had a map of this place. Anyone coming down here unprepared would likely die of starvation before ever seeing the light of day again. Magical transport was not an option either. There was Barllen lining the walls in random places, and anyone foolish enough to try using magic, would likely end up lost in transit or stuck in a wall. So you either knew where you were going here, or you didn’t go. Victory had assumed the map had meant they knew where they were going, but as he stood staring at yet another dead end he began to wonder.

“I’m going to find the scout that drew our map and drown him,” Havoc snarled, already turning to retrace their steps.

Victory looked back down at the map and frowned. “Wait a moment. Havoc, come here.” He handed the map over as Havoc approached. “I know I’m not exactly a navigator by trade, but I do believe I can read a map. And correct me if I’m wrong, but given our path, shouldn’t we be here?” He indicated a place on the map that showed the southern entrance tunnel to the subterranean city.

Havoc studied the map and glanced over his shoulder as if that could somehow help him in the deciphering. He looked ahead and studied the rock wall before them and then met Victory’s eyes. “Doesn’t really matter what the map says, that’s a wall, Vic, not a gate.”

“What if it is a hidden gate?” Victory asked, pushing the topic.

Havoc seemed to consider that for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m no rogue,” he replied. He raised his hands before him, and the little heat that was in the tunnel seemed to vanish. Victory’s eyes went wide as he realized what his partner was doing. With a curse, he moved quickly back the way they had come just as Havoc’s hands began to glow. He felt the concussive shock as he rounded the first corner. He pushed himself flat against the wall as a rush of heat flooded from the dead end he had just evacuated. With a worried groan, he looked up to the ceiling. It was doubtful that Havoc had considered the structural implications of his actions. Havoc was impulsive, not often giving thought to the long-term effect of his actions. They partnered me with him to keep him alive, Victory muttered to himself and glanced around the corner. Dim light came from the molten remains of the rock wall, and Havoc was looking out through the newly made hole. “I wonder if they realize how impossible he makes that task at times,” he asked the shadows about him.

“You were right, Vic, it was a hidden door. Nice,” Havoc called back to him.

“Do you think perhaps we should have tried to find the release for it rather than blowing it apart?” Victory asked, irritation clear in his voice as he stepped back around the corner to stand beside Havoc. The air was thick with fumes from the melted stone, and the heat was still close to unbearable for him, but Havoc seemed unfazed

“That would have taken too long. I’d rather this be done with it,” Havoc replied.

A sharp click drew their attention to the area beyond the hole, where four guards stood fully armored in black steel and chain mail, with crossbows leveled at them. Slightly behind them stood a woman wearing robes so dark blue they seemed black. She had dusky skin and hair the color of deep steel grey, pure and unblemished. Her face bore the look of youth as most Immortals did. She was glaring at them, her hands on her hips.

Victory forced a smile. “Hello, Jenna, so good to see you again. We were hoping to have a word with your father.” He greeted her by name hoping to win a bit of mercy. He hadn’t actually seen her since his days in the Academy, and they hadn’t been friends then, but there was always a slim chance.

“I’m sure he will have several words for you,” she shot back and motioned to the guards. “Disarm them and bring them along.” Two of the guards moved forward at her command. The other two kept their crossbows trained. Despite what all was said of the mercenaries of the Warrens, they were quite well trained.

With a hand raised for them to pause, Victory quickly unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over to the closest guard. “We have no desire to fight. We only wish to speak with Graves,” he said calmly and motioned for Havoc to follow suit.

“Not as if I really need weapons to kill you,” Havoc said with a shrug, as he removed his own swords and daggers and handed them over readily.

“Did you really need to add that fact?” Victory asked him through clenched teeth.

“Not really, I suppose. The bloody big hole in their gate should pass that fact on nicely enough,” Havoc replied, nonplussed.

“That gate held Barllen in it. I’m sure my father will be curious to know how you managed to bring it down with magic,” Jenna cut in before they could continue their discussion.

“I’m Firym,” Havoc replied to her with a scoff as if he couldn’t believe she would ask such a foolish question.

Victory let out a long sigh and looked to Jenna. “Milady, would you please escort us to your father now? We will do our best to answer whatever questions he might have.”

“Escort? That sounds so nice and polite, almost as if you were guests. You attacked our gates, Victory. That makes you unarmed enemies, which are now my prisoners.” She smirked and motioned to her guards. Without another word, the closest man seized Victory and brought his hands roughly back behind him, binding them quickly with shackles. He felt the cold metal bite into his wrists and then the deeper cold as the magic began to seep out of him. Barllen shackles he realized and cursed the inventor of the damned metal. He would be lucky if he could open a scry by the time they reached Graves.

“Victory might be so nice and obliging, but if you try to put those on me, I’ll cook you,” Havoc warned the guard approaching him. “I may die, but I promise you that you will die first, and likely your three friends as well.” He looked to Jenna and smiled. “You know I will, too, so call off your dog, and I’ll walk along peacefully.”

She seemed to consider him for a moment, and Victory saw her eyes flicker to the ruined mess of the gates. “Leave him unshackled but keep a close eye on him. He is dangerous,” she said with resignation.

Havoc let out a snort and smiled. “Obviously,” he agreed.

Victory kicked him lightly in the shin. “Diplomacy you ass,” he hissed.

Havoc raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he pointed out. “That is about as diplomatic as I get. Don’t blame me for this. Blame Caspian. He is the one that made you bring me.”

“If I survive this, I’m requesting a new partner,” Victory grumbled, sounding childish even to himself.

“Sure you are, just like you were going to when I got us arrested in Avanti, or when I started that brawl on the docks in the Greenwild. Or how about that time I set the entire southern district of traders on fire in Norvan.” He continued to drone on, and Victory blocked him out. He kept his attention on the tunnels they were being led through, rather than his partner’s list of idiocy. That particular bit, he knew all too well. He saw Jenna glance back a few times, each time her expression growing a bit more concerned, as Havoc continued his list of deeds that had earned him his name. Victory suppressed a smile. If Havoc meant to unnerve her, he was doing an excellent job. By the time they reached Graves, she would either demand him killed on the instant or have them both expelled from the city.

They hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile from the gate before the tunnel opened into a cavern so large the ceiling and walls were lost in shadows. They were on a slight rise and the area commanded an impressive view of the entire city. It had been divided into neat districts with perfectly straight streets running through them. It was a welcome sight after the maze above to see such order. He could clearly pick out the merchant district as well as the housing, and closest to them was obviously the military quarter, where troops were training below in perfect precision.

A thick musk rose from that area as well, a sure indication that the Warrens Calvary was quartered there. Grave’s mercenaries were famous for the beasts. He scanned the area until he found one of the creatures. He had never actually seen one before. He had read of them, of course, but that was hardly the same. Overall, the creature had the build of a very large wolverine with thick grey hair covering its body, hiding the tightly compacted muscles below. He searched his memory for the proper name for the beast and after a moment was rewarded for his years of study at the Academy. Zyvrine, they were called. A creature from beyond the barrier, and according to the history books they were capable of tunneling through stone faster than most horses could run. He found that hard to believe but decided here was not the best place to dispute the fact. It was said Graves could have his Zyvrine riders under a battlefield, and not even a skilled earth mage could detect them. It was their crowning glory as well as infamy. It was well known that the mercenaries of the Warrens did not fight fair.

He lost sight of the beast as Jenna continued to lead them through the city. Soldiers paused in their training as they made their way through, and Victory noted that not a single expression was a friendly one. Despite how many times they had gotten lost on their way down here, it was quite possible that getting in here was going to be much easier than getting out. He paid careful attention to the buildings they passed, memorizing every turn and landmark that he could spot. By Havoc’s silence, he guessed his partner had come to the same conclusion. Though in a pinch, Havoc’s solution would most likely be to burn as much of the city as he could, rather than running.

Jenna stopped outside a large building in the merchant district and led them up a narrow flight of stairs to a stone door. With a gentle push on a panel, the door slid open and light sounds of music and conversation drifted out. The air inside was thick with the scent of beer and smoke. An inn, Victory realized, or a bar at the very least. All in all, it was far better than the interrogation room he had been expecting. She led them through the room, passing tables of off-duty soldiers and scantily clad waitresses who fell silent at their approach. Jenna did not even so much as spare them a glance as she crossed the room and began climbing a set of stairs to the second floor.

This floor held no crowd, but a single table stood in the large open stone room. There was a balcony lining one wall looking down over the taproom below, and guards stood at each corner of it. The other three walls were bare, with not even a door in evidence. Graves sat at the head of the table watching them approach. He was not your typical Immortal. No flash or glamour to mark his power. He wore simple black rough-spun. He had his daughter’s same dusky skin and darker hair. His eyes were what drew their attention, so dark they seemed black and filled with intelligence. Beside him, lounging in a chair, sat Kithkanon, the eldest and sole surviving son of General Kithvaryn. This was unexpected, and Victory did his best to conceal his surprise. Kithkanon watched them with amusement; his mouth set in what Victory was sure was a permanent smirk. He was known to be dangerous and unpredictable. It was rumored he was the reason Kithvaryn had no other surviving sons, and from the stories, Victory tended to believe those rumors. We should lock him and Havoc in a room together and see who comes out, he mused to himself, and had to suppress a smile. Kithkanon was one of the top swordsmen in the prison, but if it came down to a bet, his money would be on Havoc. He had seen the Firym survive things that would have killed most others.

“You owe me a gate,” Graves said in greeting, his tone light with no trace of anger.

“You shouldn’t hide your gates if you don’t want them destroyed,” Havoc replied as he leaned back against the balcony and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were more on Kithkanon than they were Graves.

“I hide my gates so only invited guests can find them. You were not invited,” Graves pointed out mildly.

“Should hide them better then, in that case. I found it,” Havoc countered

“We were sent here by Caspian. I’m sorry that we hadn’t the chance to send word ahead of our coming,” Victory cut in before Havoc could rouse the mercenary lord’s anger.

“As I have heard,” Graves agreed. “Kithkanon tells me you have sent people to his father, as well. How perfectly interesting.”

Victory nodded and tried to ignore the growing dizziness the shackles were creating. He needed his mind clear now not muddled by weakness. If the talking were left to Havoc, they would be at war within the hour. “Caspian wishes to arrange a contract and we are here to negotiate the terms,” he explained.

“Mmm…this I have heard, as well. Caspian wishes to pay me to do nothing.” Graves gave a short laugh and leaned forward on the table. With casual ease, he took a sip from his wine and eyed the two of them. “Jenna, remove those shackles before you kill the Faydwer,” he said as he sat the wine goblet back down. Jenna rushed to her father’s command, and Victory let out a sigh of relief as the hated metal was removed.

He gave Graves a grateful smile and rubbed some feeling back into his wrists. “Thank you, Milord.”

Graves snorted in amusement. “Do I look a lord to you, boy?” he asked. He glanced at Havoc and then to Jenna. “Tell me, Jenna, why did you shackle one and leave the other unbound? Do you find the Faydwer frightening?” he asked.

Jenna frowned and looked away, obviously not wanting to answer. “Havoc is difficult, and I thought the effort of shackling him would be too great,” she answered at last.

Graves gave a short nod and raised an eyebrow. “So you shackle the peaceful diplomatic one, and leave the dangerous unpredictable one loose.” He clicked his tongue in a chiding way and shook his head. “We will talk of tactics later. Obviously you need a refresher.” Jenna nodded and stared at the wall opposite her, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“I’ve a question for you two,” Kithkanon said as he dropped his legs back to the floor. He leaned forward, his chain mail rattling faintly with his movements. He seemed almost ghostly pale seated next to the darker Graves, but was easily the bigger of the two men. Graves was slight more a rogue in build than a warrior. Kithkanon, however, was thick in the shoulders, with arms that were corded with muscle. There was no doubt of his profession. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and by the scars lacing his pale skin, one could tell at a glance, Kithkanon lived by the sword. His long dark hair fell down over his face as he leaned forward, and he casually brushed it away. “Why would Caspian want us to sit on our hands and do nothing?” he asked

Graves nodded. “I’d like that answer as well.”

“There will be a change in politics soon, and Caspian wants it done bloodlessly,” Victory answered, giving as little away as he possibly could. Although he knew well enough, once things began to take shape in the world above, both of these men would know.

“Bloodlessly?” Kithkanon seemed to taste the word as if it were an unfamiliar thing. “Why on earth would we ever agree to such a thing?” he asked.

Graves raised his glass again for more wine, apparently content to let Kithkanon ask the questions for now.

“Seems to me, it doesn’t matter if you agree or not, Kithkanon. As I recall, you hold no power in your father’s army. You are what? A captain at best? This is a choice for Graves and Kithvaryn. What you think hardly matters,” Havoc said with a smile.

Kithkanon fell silent and glared at Havoc with hatred clear on his face. His position in the army was a well-known sore point, and Havoc had just poked an open wound. “Mercenaries depend on blood to survive,” he growled.

“Suppose, if they say yes, then you had better consider a new career. A nice stout lad like you should be able to find work on any dock in the land and they won’t even mind your bad attitude if you unload the ships quickly,” Havoc replied.

“I’m not sure what their long-term plan is Graves. I know only that they wish to buy your acceptance for a time,” Victory cut in. Kithkanon looked ready to launch from his chair, and whether Havoc cared to remember it or not, he was unarmed and the man he was provoking was fully armed.

Graves looked between Havoc and Kithkanon and then to Victory. “Such hot tempers,” he said with a sigh, and shook his head in dismissal. “Kithkanon does bear a valid point, Victory. If you buy my peace for now, and lasting peace is the result of it, where does that leave me?” he asked.

“In a better world,” Victory answered simply.

Graves laughed and gave him a smile. “Ahh…but my people thrive from war, in a better world we would starve,” he said.

“Hardly, I think, for your people have thrived since the raising of the Barrier, and I sincerely doubt you have squandered that wealth. I think your people are well provisioned and that you are a versatile enough leader that you could find ways other than war, to profit,” Victory replied with a matching smile.

“While that may be true, what makes you think we wish to?” Kithkanon asked, his glare turning to Victory.

“Hush boy, the big people are talking,” Havoc said, his voice thick with contempt.

Kithkanon rose from his seat and his hands went to his hilts. “One more word, Firym, and I’ll feed you your own tongue,” he warned.

Victory sighed and wished he had his own swords. Graves, he felt, he could work with easily, but Kithkanon was another matter entirely. There were so few ways this day could end well he decided.

Havoc stuck his tongue out and squeezed it a few times with his fingers as if testing the tenderness. With a slight shake of his head, he pushed off the balcony railing and rolled his shoulders. It was a move Victory had witnessed too many times. It was the first sign of impending idiocy.

“Havoc, please don’t,” Victory pleaded. Havoc met his eyes and grinned. It was perhaps the least reassuring thing he could have done. Victory let out a long sigh and mentally calculated how much magic he had lost to the shackles. It had been rebuilding slowly, once the metal had been removed, but even so, he barely had enough for a few minor spells, and without his swords he was virtually helpless. He had been trained as a knight and in magic, not in brawling.

“These are my halls, Kithkanon, and you are a guest here. Do not presume to harm another here without my permission,” Graves broke in. Kithkanon stiffened noticeably, but Graves ignored it. He turned his attention to Havoc. “Many do not understand the Firym, but I do. I know your father well, and while it may seem all temper and chaos to others, I know your people always have a strategy to their actions, no matter how convoluted it might be. So tell me young man, why are you provoking Kithkanon?”

“Because I want your full attention on Victory, not the braying of that ass. I want Victory to succeed here, and if Kithkanon has his way he won’t. That is doubtless the reason Kithvaryn chose to send him as a messenger boy here, so he could actually listen to Solace speak. If he attacks me, I’ll silence him, and Victory will be the only voice left to listen to,” Havoc replied.

Graves snorted and gave a slight nod. “That would be an excellent example of Firym logic. Have you forgotten you are unarmed, and Kithkanon is a very dangerous opponent? What if he silences you instead?”

“While that is highly unlikely, if he did actually manage to silence me, this would no longer be a concern of mine, now would it,” Havoc answered.

Graves grinned and looked to Victory. “You have a good friend here, Faydwer. Though I know from my own experiences with their people, it can be hard to see at times. Relax, you are safe in my halls. There will be no bloodshed unless I will it.” He took another sip of wine, his smile still showing. “I have always liked the Firym. They are so very entertaining.”

“That is hardly the word I would choose.” Victory sighed and let himself relax. While the mercenary lord did have a rather infamous reputation on the battlefield, he was known for his honor in times of peace. If he said they were safe here, it was likely true. Kithkanon slowly sat back down, his anger still obvious. There would be retribution for this later on, of that Victory was certain. Nothing to be done for it, though. In Havoc’s own twisted little way, he had been trying to help.

“Not too sure if I like the term entertaining either but I’ll accept it,” Havoc smiled. “I’m going to grab a beer, want one Vic?” he asked, as he headed for the stairs, apparently choosing to ignore the fact that neither Jenna nor her father had officially altered their position as prisoners. He continued down the stairs, not waiting for an answer, and Victory had to smother a laugh at the indecisive looks on the guard’s faces. They were clearly not sure if they should stop him or follow him.

Graves gave another chuckle and motioned Victory to a seat. Taking this as a very good sign, Victory chose the seat farthest from Kithkanon, and kept his attention focused on Graves.

“I’ll tell you what I will do, Victory, and then you can see if this meets your acceptance. If you agree to my terms, we will negotiate a price. Fair enough?” Graves asked.

“More than fair,” Victory agreed.

“I will agree to stay out of political wars. I will remain neutral among the High Houses, but that is the limit to the peace I will offer. I will still accept contracts from the other territories. There are times when my men hire out to defend the unguarded lands, and this I will not stop. I will also accept contracts from the High Lords that deal with their own lands. There are times when they hire my men to root out bandits and the like, or to deal with a Genji hive. It’s not glamorous work, and certainly doesn’t have the glory of war, but it keeps my men paid without digging into my coffers,” he finished, and leaned back, watching Victory’s expression.

Victory considered the proposal quietly and nodded his agreement. “That meets the requirements that Caspian has set. On one condition, however.”

Graves raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?” he asked.

“That you not hire on against the Fionaveir. There are several High Lords that consider us little better than the Genji, though I do like to think we are far better than goblins,” he answered.

“Clever, I wondered if you would catch that point. I will agree to this.” Graves nodded his agreement as he spoke and seemed amused.

Victory glanced up as Havoc dropped into a chair beside him and slid a beer toward him. The Firym took a long swallow of his beer and gave Graves a smile. “Well, now that’s settled, let’s talk money and see if we can’t make it out of here without being bent over the table. I’ve heard you haggle worse than an Avanti merchant, Graves,” Havoc said as he sat his beer mug down with a loud thump.

“Avanti merchants have nothing on me,” Graves replied with a smile that promised it would be a lengthy negotiation.

Chapter 9

Sanctuary

Shade woke slowly and gave a long sigh. Faint morning light filtered through his heavily covered windows. He sat up slowly and stretched. With a faint groan, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain to look up at the sky. Morning was just dawning, and it looked as though it was going to be a beautiful, clear day. With a nod of satisfaction that he hadn’t overslept, he headed for the bathroom and showered quickly.

He left his rooms a short time later, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit in his house colors of blue and silver. The rest of the hall was quiet as he crossed to the small dining room. That didn’t mean anything, though. The others were usually quiet, so there was no way to tell if they were sleeping without checking their rooms. Leah and Lex looked up from their breakfast as he entered the room and he gave them a smile. “Do you two ever sleep?” he asked quietly as he took a seat at the table.

“About as often as you,” Lex replied.

“Poor bastards,” Shade returned with a smirk. He examined both of their plates and decided on an apple from the small basket in the center of the table instead.

Leah gave a light chuckle and poured him a cup of coffee. “So, where did you find the kitten?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Shade took a bite from his apple and chewed slowly as he watched her. “Well good morning to you, too, Leah. Why yes, I did sleep good. You?” he asked, once he had swallowed.

“Yes, I slept great. Now where did you find the kitten?” She pressed as relentless as she ever was.

He gave a sigh. It was never easy to get Leah off a topic. “My ship had a malfunction on the way back and I had to do emergency repairs in Brannaford. She was stranded there, so I gave her a ride. We talked for a while and here we are.”

“A malfunction on your ship?” Lex asked in disbelief.

“A tree limb through the wing malfunction,” Shade explained in disgust. They both watched him with expectant expressions. He knew better than to try to avoid the conversation. “My parents were fighting again. Mother dragged me into it. Father forbade me from entering the Sky race. In short, my mood was utter shit when I left Morcath. I was drinking before I even left the house and drank even more once I was in the ship. At some point, I ended up spilling brandy all over myself and dropped my flask. When I tried to grab it, I clipped the top of a tree.” He took a sip from his coffee and shrugged. “I shouldn’t have been flying so low or drinking while flying for that matter. I’m not even sure why I was. It was an idiot mistake I don’t plan to repeat. But it all worked out in the end.”

“And now your father is summoning you.” Leah let the statement hang in the air. Both of the twins bore serious expressions.

“The taxes were short. He will want me to explain. He wasn’t actually mad at me yesterday. He was fighting with my mother. She can be rather difficult to deal with at times. My father is a good man and he is looking out for my best interest. I wasn’t drinking yesterday because of him,” Shade reassured them both. I was drinking because of her, he added silently. Better not to get into that with the twins, though. There was so much that he would rather not explain about his family.

The door pushed open and Oma entered silently. She was a tiny, frail thing, barely over five feet with silver blond hair that was pulled back in a braid. She wore a simple lavender dress which made her skin seem ghostly rather than pale. She regarded him with eyes that were such a pale blue they seemed almost colorless, and gave him a faint smile.

“Good morning, Oma,” he said with a returned smile. “I’ve brought another to live with us. I’d like you to meet her once she is up if you don’t mind.” She gave him a nod of agreement and silently took a seat beside him.

“Which brings me to another point,” Leah began. She waited until Shade was looking at her again before she continued. “You didn’t warn her at all about Madren, did you?” she asked.

“I thought I would be here for their first lesson, so I didn’t bother with warning her before we got here. And it seemed rather rude with Madren sitting in the room,” he explained with a frown.

Oma gave him her own silent look of disapproval which was somehow worse than any scolding Leah could give.

“You didn’t warn me, either, and I had to break his nose,” Leah pointed out.

“She didn’t look like the type to break a nose,” Lex added.

“I’ll talk with her after the lesson,” Shade promised.

Leah gave a snort of amusement. “By then, I doubt she will need a warning,” she said.

Oma was sipping quietly on coffee and watching them, and then slowly turned to look back toward the door. She looked back to Shade and motioned in that direction.

Shade glanced that way and then back at her. “She’s up?” he asked. Oma answered with another nod, and he stood and crossed to the door. He leaned out to find Jala looking up and down the hall as if unsure if she should try a door or not. “We are down here,” he called and gave her a smile when she turned to face him. She returned the smile and moved toward him. She wore a blue gown today with the same silver coat she had worn the previous day. He decided his house colors suited her quite well. He wondered briefly if she had dressed that way intentionally or by chance. “Good morning,” he said once she was closer. “Did you sleep well?”

She gave a slight chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well,” she admitted.

He stepped back to allow her to enter the room, and she smiled to Lex and Leah. “Good morning,” she greeted the both of them and paused at Oma. “You must be Oma. My name is Jala. It’s nice to meet you.” She gave a slight bow of the head which caused Oma to smile.

Oma gave her a small nod and looked meaningfully at Shade. It was clear she had something to say, but it would have to wait. He knew she wouldn’t speak in front of the others. She never did. He raised an eyebrow and gave a half shrug and smiled, hoping she understood and that the conversation could wait. “Go ahead and have a seat.” Shade indicated a chair and looked to Leah, trying to ignore the fact that Oma was still staring at him.

Leah rolled her eyes and stood. “Sure, I’ll play maid. You want breakfast too, Oma?” Oma gave a slight nod, her attention still focused on Shade as Leah headed off toward the small kitchen in the back of the dining room.

Jala had been examining the room during the exchange but looked up quickly at Leah’s departure. “I could have gotten my own food,” she objected, her expression a bit concerned. “She didn’t have to play maid for me.”

“You are a guest. She actually works for me. It won’t kill her to fetch food despite how she grumbles,” Shade reassured her. “I have to leave very soon to meet my father, and Lex will be heading to the Arena to prepare for the Ring of Swords. But you will have Leah and Oma here, as well as Madren,” he explained, as Leah returned with two plates of food and dropped them heavily in front of Jala and Oma. Jala’s eyes widened a bit, but Oma ignored the gesture and began to eat.

“Thank you, Leah,” Jala said meekly. She examined the food for a quick moment and began to eat, as well.

“Good morning, all,” Madren called cheerfully from the door. Shade suppressed an inward groan. He and his household were well used to Madren by now. He was incredibly intelligent, and possibly the smartest person Shade knew. It was every other area that Madren failed in. He didn’t have the usual social filter most people had that kept them from blundering. Socially, blunder was the only word one could use to describe him.

Madren sat down at the table oblivious to the twins and Shade watching him and gave Jala a smile that covered half his face. “Good morning to you especially,” he fairly purred.

Jala looked up at him and blinked before hesitantly speaking. “Uhh…good morning…Madren.”

Madren’s smile widened, and Shade briefly pondered how that was even possible. “I got you a present to commemorate our first study day together,” Madren chirped happily and set a brightly wrapped box in front of Jala before she could voice an objection.

The twins and Oma turned to stare at Shade, and he gave them a helpless shrug. What was he supposed to do now, grab the gift before she could open it? He gave a sigh. “One does not usually give gifts for such things, Madren,” Shade said quietly.

“I know, but I wanted our beginning to be remembered always,” Madren replied, nudging the box closer to Jala while urging her on with nods.

“Our beginning?” Jala asked in confusion and slowly picked up the box, glancing at Shade as she did so.

With obvious hesitation, she unwrapped it and opened the box. Her jaw dropped. Shade leaned closer to get a look inside the box and had to suppress the urge to slap himself in the face at Madren’s brilliant blunder. Jala looked from the diamond necklace inside to Shade and then to Madren. “I, uhh, I think this is a bit much, but…umm…very generous, Madren.” She tried to slide the box back to him, but Madren kept pushing it back to her.

“It’s almost as beautiful as you are.” Madren fairly sighed the words.

Leah cleared her throat and stomped hard on Shade’s foot. He let out a short surprised grunt and cleared his own throat before speaking. “Madren, do you remember all of those talks we have had about appropriate behavior?” he asked.

Madren gave him a slow nod but remained silent. His hands began to fidget slightly and his lower lip trembled.

Shade sighed. “Madren this is not appropriate. For a study day, an appropriate gift would have been a cup of coffee or maybe some tea. If you were exceptionally nice, a Danish,” he paused, forcing Madren to meet his eyes. “Do you see the difference, Madren? Appropriate coffee and Danish. Inappropriate hugely expensive diamond necklace. Notice how different those are?” His voice was a bit harsher than it probably needed to be, but his patience was gone. How, by all the Aspects, could this have seemed like a good idea to the idiot? He wondered if Madren was even worth the effort at times. But in truth, without him, Madren really had nothing else. If Shade didn’t give him a place, no one else would.

With a muffled sob Madren stood abruptly and fled the room. Both the twins snorted in amusement and Lex lightly applauded. “I really think you are making progress with him,” Lex said with obvious sarcasm.

Jala was shifting her gaze between the necklace and the door and then looked to Shade. “Did I miss something?”

Leah gave a nod and smiled at Shade. “Why don’t you explain, Shade?” she said in an overly sweet voice.

Shade gave a healthy sigh and stood. “Walk me to the door and I’ll explain, Jala.” She stood wordlessly and followed him out the door. Once well out of earshot of the others he began. “Madren is the last of his house; he was a bastard of the line and was in school when the house was killed off. He has been in this school for close to twenty years. He has nowhere else to go as far as he can see. When I got here three years ago, it was a traditional pastime for students to torment him. He is horrible with people and he is lonely.” Jala was watching Shade and nodding slowly. He gave her a shrug and continued. “I took him in and kept the others off him for the most part, but he can be difficult to deal with. As I said, he is lonely and his self-esteem isn’t the best, so he tries to buy affection. He is highly intelligent. His memory is perfect as far as books go. Socially, however, he is a disaster. He did the same to Leah when she came here. She thinks her breaking his nose stopped him, but that wasn’t it.” Shade rubbed his face and gave her a faint smile and shrug.

“What did it?” Jala asked with obvious hope.

“Something that won’t work with you, I’m afraid,” he replied. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to admit to what he was about to say, but it seemed best to explain it fully. “I had a talk with him shortly after she broke his nose. I assumed if I didn’t do something drastic she would hurt him a lot worse.”

“Drastic?” Jala asked.

“I told him she was actually a man. I told him I had hired the twins as swords but in order for them to protect me well, one of them had to pretend to be a woman. In case a woman ever attacked me, because it wouldn’t be right for a man to hit a woman. So he thinks Aleah is really a man named Lee, and if Leah ever hears that story she will kneecap me.” He emphasized the last point. He really wasn’t sure she would stop with a kneecapping.

Jala repressed a snort of laughter. “And he believed it?” she asked in disbelief.

“Fully and completely, and I’m going to trust you to keep that between the two of us. Now before I go, a quick explanation about Oma. I believe I promised you one last night. Oma is an Empath, In fact, a very strong Empath. She is a half-blood, and I’m not really sure of what Bloodline. Her mother was a courtesan and died in birth. She felt her mother’s agony and death as she took her first breath in this world. It has left her a bit scarred, and for the most part, she avoids people. When I found her, she was living on the streets, and she wouldn’t speak to me for months. I kept at it and eventually persuaded her to come here. She is the only one in my wing that does not actually attend the school. She stays in these rooms and, for the most part, avoids people aside from those few of us that live here. She will likely never say a word to you, but please do not take offense, she doesn’t do it to be rude,” he explained quickly, and then opened the door. “Now, as much as I’d rather not, I have to go or I’ll be late. Good luck with your studies and if Madren gives you more trouble let me know when I return.”

“Are you sure he will even still teach me?” she asked quickly before he could shut the door.

“Without a doubt, just give him a bit,” he replied before shutting the door and walking briskly toward the closest portal stone. He hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea and begin to think she was another misfit to add to his collection. He hoped the twins would reassure her that not all of his household was broken. They were not exactly pillars of society, but they were most definitely not broken. He hoped Madren wouldn’t send her screaming to her rooms to pack before he got back. Too many hopes he realized and wished again he didn’t have to go meet his father. He would much rather remain behind and make sure the day went well. He gave another sigh and resolved to return as soon as possible.

“You are late, Christian,” his father said as the door to the study closed behind him. His voice held neither anger nor concern. He simply stated fact.

Shade gave him an apologetic smile. “Trouble with my household, Father. Please forgive me.” Mythandar Morcaillo, High Lord of Morcath was as immaculate as ever. To Shade’s eyes, he wore the house colors like armor. He could pass for my brother, a sterner brother to be sure but still, Shade mused. The years did not show on his father at all. He looked perhaps twenty five at most. In truth Shade had no idea how old he truly was. His hair was deep auburn, a touch darker than his own, but in all other ways, Shade was a younger, less severe shadow of his father. The High Lord, Myth, was watching Shade from a straight backed leather chair across the room. His expression giving away nothing of his emotions. He was like that always though. If you didn’t know him very well, you could never guess what he was thinking. “Nothing too terrible I hope?” he asked, once Shade had seated himself in a nearby chair.

“No, nothing serious at all,” Shade replied, easily hoping he was being truthful and Jala wasn’t running as fast as she could from his rooms, with Madren chasing her down. He quickly pushed the mental image away and focused completely on his father. Myth could tell when his mind was straying, and it never pleased him.

Myth gave a slight nod, apparently satisfied and uninterested in further details. “The taxes were light and you did not explain why in your ledger,” he said.

As straight to the point as ever, Shade noted. In some ways, his father was quite predictable. “I wanted to speak with you about that in person, actually, so I declined noting it in the ledgers. I had planned to explain to you when I delivered the taxes but Mother was being difficult.”

Myth nodded in understanding. “As she often is, I understand. However, I would like that explanation now.”

“As you may have heard last winter was a bad one for a few of the neutral quarters,” he began, well aware that he would need to explain this quickly and word it well or his father’s mood would darken. “They had plague and starvation. I was concerned for our own people lest it spread so I took steps to prevent that. I hired healers and sent them into the most heavily afflicted areas. I sent stored provisions to them to counteract the starvation, and I hired men to remove the rats and waste that had begun to pile up in those areas. Not long after I had begun to help, the refugees from that area began to come here, so I took yet more funds and built housing for them in the form of apartments. Our own population has grown considerably from it, and I expect this fall’s taxes to be substantially higher.” He watched his father, wishing for just once he could read the man’s expressions.

“While all of that is very good, Christian, the neutral quarters are not our concern. Our people are. It would have been cheaper to hire more guards for our own gates to keep them out than to take the steps you chose. I know you meant well, but our taxes are there to provide for our quarter. I cannot believe a few more citizens paying taxes will cover what you have spent improving a quarter that is not our responsibility.” There was mild reproach in his father’s tone. “Still, you have acted nobly to help those people, and I’m sure you will consider other paths in the future.”

“I actually believe I will have the full cost covered, father. I have made another arrangement as well that I believe will prove quite profitable.” Shade stood as he spoke and crossed the room. He took a decanter and two glasses off the shelf and hoped his gamble paid off. “This is actually part of that arrangement, Father,” he said as he sat back down and placed the decanter and glasses on the table beside him.

Myth regarded him for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “Wine? Explain!” The disapproval was gone from his voice replaced with a trace of interest.

“Sovann Sovaesh makes this, actually. When I heard of it, I offered him a building free of charge in our quarter to produce it. He accepted, and from what I understand the first of this will be distributed at the Spring Games.” He opened the decanter and tried to ignore how his father’s face had darkened at the word free. “It’s called Essence wine,” he said and poured the liquid carefully. It glowed a faint blue in the glasses with a delicate pale mist rising from it. As he had hoped, his father’s attention had turned to the wine and his expression had gone back to neutral. “Try it,” he urged and offered his father a glass. He picked up his own and took a sip, his eyes closing part way as the first taste of it hit his lips. Sovann had truly out-done himself with this. The wine was simply the finest tasting beverage to be had, and there were of course the benefits to it, as well. He watched his father closely as he drank the wine and waited a long moment until the first effects had time to set in.

“The tingle after the drink is that it replenishes your magic,” he explained and was rewarded with a look of genuine surprise on Myth’s normally stoic face. “He has found a way to distill magic, Father, and it will be produced in our quarter. Not only does it taste wonderful, it is beneficial.” He allowed himself a smug smile. “And the best part of it is this: In order to make it, he must have a healthy supply of mage stones. He cannot possibly fill the stones himself, without leaving himself open to attack, so he pays our citizens to fill the stones. It takes more of them to fill them, of course, but they make very good money doing it and it is all recorded in our books and taxed,” he finished and sat back to wait.

His father was silent for a long time, regarding the glass in his hand, and Shade had to fight the urge to fidget. “I’m impressed, Christian. The bottles of wine will be taxed as well?” he asked.

Shade nodded. “Yes, Father. He will be selling them for five thousand gold per bottle,” he answered quickly.

Myth’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Very impressive indeed. Now explain to me how it is that you convinced a Sovaesh to work in our quarter. That family serves the Avanti House, if I’m not mistaken. As a matter of fact, if I remember correctly, the senior of the Sovaesh family is House Avanti’s private assassin.”

“Sovann is a bit of a black sheep as far as his family goes. His father favors his elder brother, Finn, and Finn is an ass, so Sovann avoids the entire situation and keeps to himself. He is not on good terms with the Avanti, either, so that will not create difficulties between our houses because he had left their shelter long before I approached him,” Shade explained. He was rather proud of himself for the arrangement, and seeing his father pleased, was well worth the effort he had gone through to accomplish it. Once Shade had sweetened the deal with lighter taxes and a free building, Sovann wasn’t hard to convince.

Myth took another sip of the wine and gave another slight nod of approval. “Very good, Christian, I am pleased on all accounts. You have done very well indeed. Now, I’m sure you are eager to get to the games. I understand Alex will be fighting this year as well.” His father’s words were a clear dismissal and Shade rose accordingly.

“Yes he will, Father, and thank you for your praise,” he said quietly, doubting Myth truly understood just how much his praise was worth, nor for how long he had sought it. He was almost to the door when his father spoke again.

“Oh, one more matter, Christian. We are to dine with the Avanti house in four days. Odd that they should be in our conversation already but life works in ironic ways. I will expect you here no later than the fifth hour of the evening, and dressed for a formal dinner,” Myth said.

“As you say, Father. I will be here,” Shade agreed. He quietly opened the door and left the room a bit curious to know why they were dining with the Avanti but was loathe to ask. His father did business with the house from time to time, and this really wasn’t all that unusual. Better simply to wait and see, than to press his father now.

Myth watched his son go and took another sip of the wine. It really was a choice beverage. The boy had done well on that, at least. As to the matter on the neutral quarter, it was idealist nonsense but could serve as well if he used it correctly. No doubt the council would approve of such acts. He heard the door behind him open and didn’t bother turning to look.

“He really is a sweet and thoughtful boy,” Kali’s voice purred from behind him. She moved silently across the room and dropped lightly into the chair Christian had just vacated. She was a pale, beautiful creature, and was covered from head to toe in a black silk robe. A few strands of her snow white hair and just a hint of her full red lips showed from within the cowl. “Is he adopted or did your wife cheat on you?” she asked, all traces of purr gone from her voice.

Myth gave her a disdainful glance. “He is not adopted, and as to the latter,” he shrugged. “Who knows?” He set the wine glass down with exaggerated care. “I did not summon you here to speak of my son, however. You are here to speak of business, not my family.” He kept his tone firm. This was not a woman to trifle with, and he did not want her misunderstanding their positions here, and think she had the upper hand.

“You didn’t summon me anywhere, Myth. You asked and I answered. I do not get summoned,” she replied in a tone as firm as his own. “Business. Mmm. It’s been a long while since you’ve been up to any serious business; about ten years I think. I’m sorry that plague thing in Veir didn’t work out for you, by the way. You did such a wonderful job leading Merrodin through the whole mess without even getting your hands the least bit dirty. Who could have ever expected House Veirasha to react that way? Oh, it is House Dark now, isn’t it? But still, while you didn’t get all of Veirasha you certainly got all of Merro. Bravo, sir.” She smiled at him overly sweet as she spoke.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Kali. I was not involved in that disaster. If you will but speak to the council you will understand I made several trips to both Veirasha and Merro to try to stop that tragedy from occurring,” he said. He wasn’t sure where she got her information, but it was clear someone needed to die.

“Oh, of course you did, because everyone knows you are a paragon of virtue, Mythandar Morcaillo, and that’s why you asked me here to speak of what we may do to improve this wonderful prison we share.” Kali’s voice dripped with contempt. “Cut the shit, Myth. I know you for what you are, and you know me. You may be used to lying to them, but it does no good to lie to me.”

He cleared his throat and gave a disgusted sigh. “I need a common threat to bind them together. I need something truly terrible that you can create, and I need it soon. The Fionaveir are up to something and I’m not sure what it is. They have been speaking with the mercenaries and keeping a very low profile. I need the High Houses united before then, and you can make that possible,” he said quietly. Kali was perhaps the best geneticist in existence, inside the barrier or otherwise. Her creations bordered on genius, mad genius to be sure, but he didn’t need sanity for this plan. All he needed was for her to agree.

She tapped a finger against her delicate chin before answering, as if in deep thought. “So, let me get this straight. You want to bind the High Houses together so they can face the Fionaveir united. Under one leader, I’m guessing, and you want to be that leader. So you need me to create something to spook them into being good little lackeys. Is that what you are saying?” She tilted her head in question.

He refrained from grinding his teeth. “More or less,” he answered, wishing she would stop all of the extra conversation and simply agree. He was not used to being talked to in this manner and found it more irritating than he cared to admit.

She gave a delicate shake of her head. “I don’t buy it. Let’s be a bit more truthful, Changeling.”

He visibly winced at the use of the word and had to fight to keep from glaring at her. “Does it matter? I had thought you enjoyed this sort of thing,” he growled.

She gave a slight nod. “Oh I do, I do, but it’s just that I like to have things nice and clear when I make a business arrangement. So as far as I see it, and I will try to be clear, you are a Changeling, and as far as everyone else knows Changelings are extinct. They all went through very drastic lengths to try to make that so. If they knew what you were, they would be howling for your blood. So you are killing them off one by one, and want me to create something nasty to help. Is that a little closer to the mark?” The purr was back in her voice and he desperately wanted to throttle her.

“That would be very close to the mark,” he admitted. May you die with them, he added silently. “Is there a problem with this?” he asked after a lengthy silence.

“Oh, no, not really, I’ve been trying to kill you bastards off since they put up the barrier. I created the Serpents, my demons of the sea, the Genji, my delightful little goblins, and the Bendazzi, the real reason you Immortals stay out of the woods at night. All in hopes that one of them would kill you all off.” She gave a sigh. “So far the Bendazzi are doing the best job at it. Not many of them left, though, because you all cheat and gang up on my poor little kitties.” She sniffed as if the idea of killing the monstrous things was wholly undignified. “It’s not the idea of the game that gives me pause, Myth. I’m well used to the game of making nasty little surprises to kill you off. I’m just not used to someone asking me to play my games. Naturally, I’m suspicious.” She picked up Christian’s half full glass of wine and took a dainty sip. “There is of course the matter of payment. I think you all tell enough spooky bed time stories about me to know what that is,” she said as she set the glass back down.

He gave a slight nod and relaxed back in his seat, his temper cooling with the fact that she would do as he wished. “Morcaillo will have to suffer its losses of course. If we survived this without loss, it would look questionable. I will not be giving you my own blood of course, but if you want the Changeling genetic as badly as I think you do, I’m sure some blood can be gathered from our losses,” he said quietly.

“Your sweet son then? Aww. That’s a shame, and he tries so hard to make you happy. You really are a bastard, aren’t you, Myth?” Kali asked.

“Perhaps my wife, I’m not sure at this point, but both would suit your purpose,” he answered. It really would be a shame to part with Christian. The boy was naïve and always eager to please. Sarah, however, had her uses as well by producing more sons. He would have to put thought into the matter, and he had time for that due to the months it would take Kali to finish their little project. He would decide by then.

“Ahh, that’s right. I had forgotten your house only has one branch on the family tree now. Does your sweet little boy know he could also call his mommy, Sis? Such a twisted man you are.” She kept her tone light despite her words.

“I took what measures I had to, in order to ensure the Changeling Bloodline remained strong. As far as what he knows, it is none of your business,” he snapped. Once again, she had proven to know far too much about him, and he mentally noted to find her informant quickly. “I do hate to be rude, Kali, but Christian has thrown my schedule off for the day, and I have a man due to arrive at any moment. It would be awkward if you were still here, so if there is nothing further that we need to cover on this matter…” He kept his tone polite and hoped she would just accept the dismissal easily. He wasn’t sure how he would explain to the High Commander of the Justicars why Kali was here. The man had been bought, but every arrangement had its limits, and Kali was hated by just about everyone. With good reason, of course. Her creations tended to make life difficult for all.

“Ah, yes of course, Myth. You need to tell your pet Justicar to frame the Fionaveir. The Spring Games should be much livelier with daily executions,” Kali said with another dainty smile and stood stretching like a cat. “Are you going to use real Fionaveir or just tattoo some thugs?” she asked lightly.

“I don’t see how that is any of your concern,” he snapped back. As a matter of fact, he had planned for tattooed thugs, but there should be no possible way she should know about that. With an inward growl, he decided to ignore it for now. It wasn’t as if Kali would be talking to anyone that might actually listen, anyway. If she was too well informed, oh well, his reputation was carefully honed and sterling. No one would ever take her word over his.

She gave a slight humph and shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’d go with the thugs myself. Fionaveir do have very long memories and hold grudges like no other. Ta Ta,” she said. She cast a quick transport spell and vanished. Myth watched her go with a raised eyebrow. Not many would dare use a transport spell, there were too many ways it could go wrong. For her to do so right in front of him, was as much a slap in the face. She was saying without words that he couldn’t possibly interrupt her magic. He pondered that as he waited for the Justicar to arrive. Either he had lost a lot of his intimidation value, or he had seriously underestimated Kali’s power, he mused.

Chapter 10

Sanctuary

They were seated high above the arena floor in the Morcaillo family seats. Jala waited until the servant had gone with the trays of empty plates before looking to Christian. “Why do they call you Shade? Is it because of your ship?” She kept her voice low and leaned a bit toward him to hear his answer, and in truth to lean a bit closer to him.

He gave her a smile and leaned over slightly in his own chair to where they were only inches apart. “Actually, the ship is named that because they started calling me Shade. It goes back to a debate in my ethics class my first year here. The professor was trying to illustrate right and wrong and good and evil, using black and white to emphasize his point. I objected saying the world simply isn’t that way. That there is no black and white.” He gave her a glance and a smile. “I’m glad you asked me when the others weren’t around, actually. They would club you for bringing this topic up again,” he teased.

She felt her eyes widen a bit. “Umm, why?” she asked.

“I believe the world is shades of grey. There is no such thing as black and white as far as right or wrong go. I used the Fionaveir as an example in my debate. Yes, they break the law. In a black and white world that would be black, it would be evil. However, they break the law for good reasons, which makes it grey. No single person is completely good or evil, and the same can be said for actions. It all lies in between, thus grey. I preached this theory for weeks after the debate and gradually my closest friends stopped calling me Christian and started calling me Shade. If the topic was brought up again, they would either cry or fight, I’m not sure which.” He gave her a smirk.

She frowned at him. His theory had merit, but she could see holes in it. Some acts were purely and simply evil. “What about the destruction of Merro? How could that possibly be considered grey?” she asked.

“Do you know the full story?” She shook her head in answer, and he nodded. “House Dark was called House Veirasha before that happened. It was one of the original houses and was renowned for its strength, in both power and character. They had very rigid beliefs, and when someone threatened those beliefs, they defended them. That’s part of what got them locked in the prison.” He paused and took a sip of his wine before he continued. “Anyway, House Merrodin and House Veirasha were always at odds with each other. Merrodin was a bit of a tyrant, and Veirasha was known for making their life difficult. In a play, finally to be rid of a thorn in their side, Merrodin released a plague in Veirasha lands. It was unstoppable and started with the livestock and worked its way through the people. No matter what type of magic was used to attempt a cure, it had very little effect. Veirasha was in ruins and weaker than they had ever been. Damon and his two sons Tyber and Zach were forced to man the borders themselves with the reinforcements they had recalled from Sanctuary. Their standing armies had been decimated. Even the High House itself had not been spared, for Damon’s own wife and daughter died from the plague before he could return to the capital. All the while, Merrodin’s armies were preparing to assault him and finish off his house while he was weak. So, in an act of desperation, he did the unthinkable. He destroyed what was left of his own land and people. He seized the Mantle of Destruction and turned that power on the one that had forced his hand. The only ones spared were his two sons. His land is as barren as Merro.” He watched her expression and shrugged. “In Damon’s eyes, if his house wasn’t there to block Merrodin’s evil, no one else would. So when he saw all hope was lost for his land he made sure to take his enemy with him. In a manner of speaking, it was a shade of grey. Merrodin was a monster. If you have ever heard some of the stories of the slave plantations in that land you would understand better,” he added quietly.

“I didn’t even know they had slave plantations in Merro,” she admitted quietly. She’d never heard of the plague or any slaves before. “But what about all of the innocents in Merro?” she asked after a long moment of considering the story.

“What about all of the innocents in Veirasha’s lands?” he countered. “No one is really sure if Damon meant to destroy everything in Merro, or if the magic was more than he expected. No one from House Veirasha, or Dark rather, has left their lands since it happened. Not even for the yearly councils,” he said.

She gave another nod and fell silent. There was a lot to think about. She wondered why no one had ever told her the story. Surely the priests had known what happened. I should have asked Fortune, she chided herself mentally. He would have told me the truth.

“Look, there’s Lex,” Shade said as he pointed down into the field.

There were seven circles painted on the ground of the arena and from what Shade had explained to her there were three ways to win this contest. You could injure your opponent past the ability to fight, which seemed horribly brutal to her. You could push your opponent from the circle, or your opponent could simply yield and step from the circle himself. He had also explained the fights went very quickly, and to watch closely or you would miss the entire thing. After watching Lex easily best three opponents in less than five minutes she understood.

“He is amazing,” she said in awe after the third fight. She was truly impressed at how quickly Lex could move his massive sword. It seemed almost a blur in the air before him.

“This is nothing yet. He is saving his skill for Sovaesh. May he beat him bloody this year,” Shade responded with a grin.

“Who is Sovaesh?” She asked curiously and noted Lex had dropped two more opponents in the short time they had been talking. He was knocking them down almost as quickly as the next challenger could approach the ring.

“His main contender in this event. Three years ago Lex won this with no trouble, but Finn Sovaesh entered the games and he has been a wall for Lex since. Lex designed that new sword just for him. I’m not sure what the trick of it is yet, but I’m eager to see.” Shade leaned forward in his seat and motioned toward the sidelines. “There he is. See him in the black vest leaning on the wall?” he said, and glanced to her.

She scanned the wall and located the man he described. He was shirtless, with just the vest on, and it wasn’t even fastened. His pants seemed to be simple dark cloth though it was hard to be sure from this height. Most of the others she had seen fight had worn at least some form of armor. He looked to be just a bit shorter than Lex, but she couldn’t be sure from the way he lounged. She could make out two swords hanging from his sides. They were quite a bit smaller than Lex’s, but between his extra height and his enormous sword, he would definitely have the reach advantage. “He almost looks bored,” she said absently.

“He is arrogant,” Shade replied. “When it’s time for them to fight, I’ll give us a better viewing,” he added.

“Wont Lex need a break before then? He has already fought eight others that I’ve seen,” she asked with concern.

He shook his head in answer. “It will be a total of ten fights before he gets to Finn, and that’s just a warm up for Lex. I wonder exactly how they staged it so Lex and Finn would fight on the first day. That can’t be coincidence.” He sounded thoughtful as he spoke.

The names were called bare minutes after Shade had fallen silent and he waved his hand quickly in front of the both of them. The air shimmered slightly and then solidified into an illusionary mirror of the fight beginning below. She watched Finn approach the ring with a smug expression on his perfect face. She spared a quick glance at Shade and wondered if he realized just how much he and Finn looked alike. Finn was bigger and much better muscled, but their jaw lines and shape of the eyes were so similar she would bet money they were related. Probably not close, given the differences in coloring. Where Shade’s hair was auburn and his eyes were blue, Finn’s hair was a tawny brown, almost gold in places, and his eyes were the deepest green she had ever seen. Just before Finn actually crossed the line into the circle, he paused and removed his leather vest with a smirk and drew his swords.

“Bastard,” Shade muttered.

“What?” she asked, curious as to what she had missed.

“He removed his vest, the only thing he had on that could have remotely passed as armor, as a slap in the face to Lex. It was saying you aren’t good enough to bother with armor,” he explained, his eyes locked on the two circling opponents.

Lex had abandoned his typical leather coat for this fight and stood waiting in leather and chain armor. Apparently he felt Finn was good enough for the use of armor, and if the insult had bothered him, he gave no indication. His eyes were locked firmly on Finn and he looked eager for the fight. Finn moved with a catlike grace as they circled, taking each another’s measure. Lex reminded her more of a prowling wolf, both were predatory and both were dangerous.

With a burst of speed that was almost blinding, Finn took the fight to Lex with absolutely no warning. The bigger man was ready though and countered the first flurry easily turning his massive sword to deflect or block each blow. Finn weaved back and then in again several more times, each time delivering a stunning assault of blows that did not seem to break through Lex’s defense. She saw Finn smile and nod his head to Lex, as if in respect, and they once again circled each other for a breath. And then it was Lex, lunging forward with a swing of the massive sword that sent Finn so close to the circle she heard the crowd below her gasp. Lex brought his sword back up for defense just as Finn darted around the side and came in for another flurry. With a start, she realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly. She had never seen anything like this.

“C’mon, Lex,” she heard Shade whisper as Finn circled Lex below. As if Lex had heard the encouragement, he made his move the next time Finn darted in. The smaller man was delivering his flurry when Lex abruptly switched to a one handed grip on the two handed sword and gave a sharp twist to the hilt, turning the point of his blade toward the ground. She could tell by the falter in Finn’s blows he was as shocked as her. To her amazement, Lex’s blade split in the center and a smaller sword dropped into his waiting hand leaving a slit in the two hander’s blade straight up the middle. With another quick twist, Lex caught one of Finn’s dancing blades in the split, taking care to keep the trapped blade well away from himself as he parried Finn’s second sword with his other smaller blade. Shade gave a yell of satisfaction, and she saw Finn’s left leg buckling. She hadn’t even seen him get hit. She realized with amazement that Lex must have struck him with the tip of his two handed blade while he was trapping Finn’s blade. Lex was bringing his second smaller blade around for the finishing cut when Finn abruptly dropped both his swords, grabbed Lex by the front of the armor roughly, rolled onto his back, and used his momentum to throw Lex over him and out of the circle. Lex landed lightly and rolled to his feet, his swords held out away from him as he tumbled, lest he impale himself.

The crowd roared around them, and Shade sat back in his chair heavily. “I thought he had him,” he admitted with disgust. “That was a nice trick he added to the sword, though. I wouldn’t have thought it would work like that. I would have been afraid of weakening the main blade,” he added.

“I thought he had won,” she agreed. She chose to remain silent on the matter of the sword. She had no idea on such things and would rather be quiet than look foolish.

Finn was standing shakily now using one of his swords to balance himself. She could see his blood pooling on the dirt and was relieved when healers quickly arrived to help him off the field. She didn’t know him, and by Shade’s reaction toward him doubted she wanted to, but she had no desire to watch anyone bleed to death.

“Ahh…well, there is always the possibility he won’t be here next year,” Shade said with a sigh.

“Is he about to graduate?” She asked. He had looked Immortal to her and she had guessed he would be first circle. If he was about to leave, though, she must be wrong.

He gave a slight snort. “No, he is very close to getting exiled from Sanctuary. He is prone to duels and fighting in the city. While dueling is legal, the last brawl he was in was with an off duty Justicar, and they have made it very clear he is on thin ice. You remember when we arrived I told you bloodshed in the city itself meant death or exile? He keeps the duels to the arena, but the brawls will be what get him. I give him another few months and he will be gone,” he said.

She gave a slight nod and went back to watching the fights. As far as she could tell after the first few, she had already seen the best contest the day had to offer.

Chapter 11

Sanctuary

Charm perched like a gargoyle on the edge of the Justicars hall, carefully placed to be in the shadows of one of the building’s countless eaves. He had sent word back the moment the information reached his ears. If High Commander Kellis planned to kill Fionaveir, Charm meant to see it didn’t succeed. Caspian had, of course, told him to keep his focus on the girl, and he would take care of it.

Isador was watching the girl now, though, and the first of the executions was due to start any time. A crowd was already gathering below. A large crowd. Nothing draws attention like the promise of blood, he thought with disgust. They had set up a small stage below the stairs. From what he understood from taproom gossip, they had three Fionaveir in their custody and all three were to be beheaded. He scanned the crowd again, hoping for some sign of Caspian’s intervention but saw none. There were too many people packed into the square to notice small details. He shook his head in disbelief. The first day of the games and three executions. It didn’t bode well for the remainder of the festival.

“A beautiful day for beheading, isn’t it? There’s not a cloud in the sky, with a nice cool breeze. If I were going to be executed, I think I’d prefer a day such as this.”

Charm looked up sharply at the voice and found Fortune sitting balanced on the wall beside him. He sat in plain sight, not sticking to the shadows. “Get down,” Charm hissed.

Fortune looked at him with a raised eyebrow and looked down at the crowd below. He was dressed in bright blue with a black bowl shaped hat balanced neatly on his golden hair. A large blue feather was pinned in the band around the hat and waved merrily in the breeze. “Looks pretty crowded down there, and it would make it rather difficult to talk to you,” he objected.

Charm repressed a growl, certain that at any moment that damn waving feather would draw the attention of someone below. “Not down there, but beside me and out of sight,” he clarified.

“While you are an amazingly attractive man and no doubt desirable to the ladies I believe I will abstain from cuddling. Don’t worry, Shadow hopper, they won’t see me. With luck, no one will even look up.” Fortune gave him a droll smile and looked back down at the crowd.

“Why are you here?” Charm asked, deciding that arguing with an Aspect was about the biggest waste of time he could devise.

“Same as you, Charm. I want to see the show. I think it will be a performance the Justicars aren’t likely to repeat. A one-time deal if you will, and I want to witness this,” Fortune answered with a cryptic smile.

The man always seemed to be smiling, Charm realized in annoyance. It was as if the world were a great joke to him. “I’m not sure if it will be as you hope, Fortune. Caspian hasn’t had much time to counter this. I only received word of it a few hours ago. I didn’t expect them to act so soon.”

“Oh, Caspian is nothing if not punctual. Just watch and see, for it will go my way,” Fortune assured him with that same damn smile.

They were leading the prisoners out now. He studied the placement carefully. If he had friends below he would have to be able to move fast if needed. While he was quite possibly the sneakiest individual in the prison, with the exception of perhaps Hemlock, he wasn’t much of a stand up warrior. And if it came to one-on-one with an armored Justicar, he didn’t have much chance of winning. There were six Justicars that he could see, placed at the bottom of the platform, their silver armor gleaming beneath their snow white cloaks. Two more stood on the platform itself, and another three escorted the prisoners. Eleven then, not good at all.

He sighed and tried to get a better look at the prisoners. He knew most all of the Fionaveir and their abilities. Depending on who was down there, he might have help in the fight. With a frown, he realized he didn’t know any of them. While it was possible that he might not know one Fionaveir, it was highly unlikely there would be three that he didn’t know. The Fionahold was not that large, and he was social with his order. It was simply good policy to know who you worked with and what they were capable of.

“Isn’t it sad when the Justicars have to sink to such levels,” Fortune mused.

“They aren’t Fionaveir,” Charm said quietly.

“Of course they aren’t. Those are lovely tattoos, though, aren’t they?” Fortune replied.

Charm frowned deeper. Even from here he could see the tattoos were wrong. He found it somewhat amazing that the Justicars had no actual idea of what the tattoos should look like. As long as the two orders had been at odds, one would think they would have noticed that rather important detail.

“They are going through all of this trouble just to turn the commons against us?” Charm asked in disbelief.

“The commons are hardly likely to help your people if they think you’re rapists and murderers. As long as you maintain the appearance of fighting to help them, they will hide you. If Kellis can undermine that, the commons will be turning your people over left and right for the reward alone, and feel no guilt about it at all,” Fortune explained, his smile gone at last. “Kellis is a bastard. Too bad it’s not him on the block.”

They were leading the first prisoner forward now, and Kellis himself was reading off the man’s crimes in a loud clear voice.

“This man before you stands accused of two counts of rape as well as the murder of both women. He is accused of the molestation of no less than three children and the defilement of a holy Temple to the gods,” Kellis called.

“Oh, he is a busy one, isn’t he? A child molester, rapist, and Temple defiler.” Fortune sounded amused and made a tisking sound.

“That’s Danny from down in South Town. He ain’t a Fionaveir. I’ve known him since he was in swaddling clothes,” a voice rose from the crowd and Charm quickly tried to find the source. The Justicars were looking, as well, but with the sheer number of people one could tell a direction but not the individual. Several other voices rose in objection, one ringing loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “Those ain’t real tattoos either.” It was a man’s voice, and rough with the harsh accent of the lower class.

“Silence. How dare you question the voice of Justice!” Kellis boomed, his words causing a temporary hush to the crowd.

“When exactly was the voice of Justice speaking?” another man’s voice called, his tone clear and rich and one that Charm did recognize. He inhaled sharply and watched as a cloaked figure pushed through the crowd. Lutheron moved carefully, not jostling the commons, and they quickly cleared a path for him. Their attention was now fully drawn to this newest turn of events.

“Seize him,” Kellis demanded. Charm smiled as he watched the crowds thicken around the Justicars trying to follow their orders. There was no way they were getting through that crowd without cutting people down and that would bring a riot.

Lutheron stopped about ten feet from the platform and pulled his cloak down allowing the crowd to see his face. A general murmur washed through the people. Caspian was not the only one who had a statue in his honor. Lutheron’s was in the arena, as was fitting. There were few in Sanctuary that didn’t know his face. He was a legend, one of the only individuals to win every one of the Spring Games, from jousting to mage craft. He had not only won that year, he had won easily. making it look to be child’s play. “Your mockery of our tattoos are insulting, Kellis,” Lutheron called and removed the clasp to his cloak. The thick black wool fell away to be lost in the milling crowd. Lutheron stood bare to the waist now with his tattoos showing clearly. They began at the wrist on his left arm and rose up to cover most of his chest and back. “These are true Fionaveir tattoos,” he called to the crowd.

“Stand aside at once, this man is a criminal,” Kellis demanded of the crowd, his voice cracking with fury. Their eyes, however, were locked on Lutheron, and they ignored Kellis. The Justicars continued to try to push through the crowd to reach Lutheron, and Charm wondered how stupid the men must be. How long could they expect to live if they did reach him, their armor wouldn’t count for much against a man of his skill.

Lutheron turned his back on the Justicars and addressed the crowd with his action speaking more loudly of his contempt for them than words ever could. “Each of these tattoos was earned defending people such as yourself. A Fionaveir does not rape; he kills those that do. A Fionaveir protects children and stops any who would harm them. A Fionaveir has honor. Do not be fooled by these pathetic attempts. They mean to turn you against us with their lies. They think you are simple enough to be fooled by such antics,” he called to them, his voice louder than Charm had ever heard it. The crowd roared in answer, and the Justicars found themselves being pushed back with more force as the mood turned.

“Your day will come, Kellis, and you will be judged for your lies,” Lutheron called once again, his voice rising over the roar.

“Cease this at once or I will have you all arrested,” Kellis threatened, and Charm smirked. Not the wisest thing he could have done. The crowd surged again, breaking over the platform and knocking the Justicars back toward their hall. “You will all find yourselves in chains for this defiance,” Kellis called again as the commons surged even closer.

“Just a guess, but I’m going to say Kellis cancelled the executions he had scheduled for tomorrow,” Fortune said with a wistful sigh.

Charm chuckled lightly and searched the crowd for Lutheron. He had vanished back into the mill as the crowd pushed forward and now he couldn’t locate him. He nodded his head in approval. Kellis’s threats were hollow ones. There was no way he could arrest so many people. His Justicars would disperse the crowd soon, once they had been rallied from the halls, but they had no holding space for so many prisoners. Even if they shipped them all off to the slave markets, it would be impossible. Lutheron had handled it neatly. He started to say as much to Fortune and realized the Aspect of Luck was gone, as well, leaving him alone on the rooftop. He smirked and stood to leave. Isador would find this highly amusing, no doubt, and likely the Fionahold would be ringing with this story for years to come.

“Our girl is exactly as I feared.” Isador said in way of greeting as Charm seated himself beside her. They were balanced on one of the statues that ringed the arena. “She is sweet, naïve, and beautiful,” she added and handed him a flask of wine. “Did you stop the executions?” She asked.

“No, Lutheron did,” he answered and quickly told her the story when she raised an eyebrow in question. He kept it as short as possible, knowing she would hear the more detailed version once they returned to the hold. He wanted to keep his attention on the booth far below them where Jala sat with Morcaillo’s son. He hadn’t liked this arrangement at all when they had arrived. He knew Mythandar Morcaillo from beyond the barrier and had never cared for the man and doubted his son was much different. From what he had learned in his time in this prison, there were two types of Immortals locked here: those that would fight at the slightest provocation, and those that provoked the fight. Mythandar was the latter of the two. Though he did it so subtly he was rarely connected with the actual fight.

Isador smiled as he finished and gave a nod of approval. “Well done. I’ll have to bring him a bottle of some fine vintage when we return home.”

“How has she been?” he asked.

“Breathless with wonder and quite taken with the boy,” Isador replied with a sigh.

“Was that Sovaesh’s boy fighting when I came in?” he asked. He had only met Sovaesh on a few occasions, and despite the fact that Sovaesh was the hired knife for the Avanti, Isador found the man likable enough. Well, as likable as an assassin could be, anyway.

“It was, and I was surprised they gave him the victory, he dropped his swords and resorted to brawling,” Isador answered, her gaze already locked on Jala once more.

“Whatever it takes I suppose,” Charm replied with a shrug. “How many threats have you counted so far?”

“Three that have been giving her dark looks, and several that are more curious than I would like. It’s natural, though, I suppose. They don’t know her, and she is obviously Elder Blood,” Isador replied. “Avanti, Rivasa, and Nerathane for the dark looks,” she added after a moment.

“No real surprise there,” Charm said. The three houses she had mentioned were reacting exactly as he had expected. Avanti didn’t like being surprised or anything that might be a threat, Rivasa didn’t like anyone, really, and Nerathane were typical of the dragon blood and disdained everything that didn’t obviously have dragon blood.

“I’ve been thinking I might get a bit closer with those three in my off time,” Isador commented and shifted her position slightly.

Charm raised an eyebrow. “How so?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Play dress up a bit and start paying way too much for drinks at the places they favor.” She shrugged again. “If I talk sweet to them and flatter them, the Avanti at least will accept my presence in enough time, and after watching Jala for the day, I think we are going to be here for a while.”

“That bad, eh?” he asked with a sigh.

Isador shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. The girl isn’t stupid. She is actually quite smart, from the rate she learns. She is just so trusting and innocent. Even when she gets her power, I’m not sure she will know when to use it,” she clarified. Charm nodded his understanding and she continued. “So I think I’ll do a bit of casual spying on those I think will give her the most difficulties and let you worry about spying on the rest of the city.”

He smiled and nodded again. “As you like, Milady. I trust your judgment, and if that is the way it’s going to be I’m going to leave you to watch her. I want to know what the NightBlades are up to.” He rose slowly to a slight crouch.

Isador looked up at him with a frown. “Don’t get yourself killed. I don’t want this assignment alone,” she cautioned.

“They won’t even know I’m there,” he promised and left her to guard over Jala.

Chapter 12

Sanctuary

They passed the next few days in a blur. Mornings she would study with Madren whose attentions sadly enough hadn’t slackened. Fending off his fumbling flirtations took as much time as was devoted to learning, but she gritted her teeth and tried her best not to let it bother her. She was quickly learning the Bloodlines and their strengths, and she told herself it was worth the trouble. So far, magic had been the only thing she seemed incapable of learning from him. No matter how simply he tried to explain it, she couldn’t seem to master even the simplest of casting. Considering she was to be training first circle this was going to be a huge problem. Shade seemed to have faith in her though so she kept trying daily only to be disappointed with the results. Her mornings so far while helpful, were frustrating on several levels.

The afternoons were a different matter entirely and were mostly spent with Shade at the Spring Games. He had taken her to the Joust and to the Archery, but it was the other attractions that she enjoyed the most. They had contests of every sort, from craftsmen displaying their skills to bards battling with songs. The crowds were thick and the spirit of the place was so jovial, it was hard to believe Shade’s words about the hostility between houses. She saw every sight the city had to offer during the day, and in the evenings, she would sit with him and the twins while they enjoyed the bard’s music or a street play.

Tonight, however, there was no Shade because he had to attend dinner with his father. The twins had, of course gone with him. That left Oma, Madren, and Jala as the sole occupants of the rooms. Oma was nowhere to be seen, and she had absolutely no desire to seek out Madren, who had been especially bad this morning, spending more time trying to discuss how many kids she would like to have than trying to teach her anything. It was getting easier to understand why Leah had broken his nose. She had considered it more than once today. Only the fact that Shade said that hadn’t stopped his flirtations, kept her from it. So she sat in her room to avoid him, and had long ago passed into boredom.

She stared at the door for a moment and realized that no one had told her not to go out, she mused. Before she could change her mind, she stood and quickly changed into the purple silk dress that had become her new favorite, and donned the silver coat she wore daily. She gave herself a quick look in the mirror and smiled at the reflection. Her hair fell in a wild tangle down her back, which suited her mood just fine. She crossed the room quickly and swept out the doors and into the night with her steps taking her quickly toward the market. She enjoyed seeing the displays the craftsmen put up, and if she were lucky she could find a vendor with blackberry tarts.

She was finishing off her second tart and making her way through the thick crowds toward music, when she heard the first of the commotion. She slowed her pace and began making her way slightly off to the side of the street away from the majority of the traffic. It sounded like voices raised in anger. She’d been to the festival for the past three nights, and had only seen a couple disturbances, and they had been little more than drunken yelling with no actual fighting. She noticed the crowds thickening a bit in front of one of the bars, and in a fit of curiosity, moved closer, as well. The general mood of the whole night had been so jovial, this new turn seemed almost an intrusion.

“Just admit it, you bastard!” A man yelled from the center of the circle.

“I can’t admit what I don’t remember. Now look, you are disrupting the fun for everyone.” The answering voice sounded almost bored with a thick lazy drawl. She gently pushed her way to the front and saw three men circled around another. They held themselves tense, obviously seeking a fight. Their target she realized with a start was Finn Sovaesh. He was dressed in a fine dark suit tonight, a far cry from his arena wear, and he looked as dashing as a High Lord. While he looked amused and sounded bored, she could see his attention was not actually on the men, but looking past them. She followed his gaze and noted the two Justicars watching with obvious interest. She looked back to the three men and wondered who had gone through so much trouble to set him up. She could tell the three weren’t going to back down as well as Finn could. She frowned and considered the crowd around them. She was sure Shade wasn’t going to like what she was about to do, but if the man was going to get exiled she thought he should at least be guilty.

With a sigh, she cleared her face of curiosity and tried her best for a look of polite outrage. She shifted her shoulders back slightly and stepped out of the circle. “There you are, Finn Sovaesh, you were supposed to meet me at the café over an hour ago, and I find you here.” She tried to pour as much indignity into her tone as she could. She sniffed and looked meaningfully behind him to the bar. She tried to ignore the fact that the Justicars were now watching her as much as Finn, and strove to maintain her act. If she acted the part well enough, maybe the thugs would believe she was actually someone of importance.

Finn regarded her for a bare second before responding smoothly. “So sorry, love, these gents wanted to have a chat with me and wouldn’t listen when I explained I hadn’t the time.”

She turned her glare to the men and to her amazement they looked chagrined. “I sincerely hope you are done chatting because I’m sick of waiting.” She glared a moment longer and had to suppress a smile as they wilted before her faked anger. With a whirl, she turned her attention fully back to Finn. “Do you expect me to starve?” she demanded, her voice imperious.

“Of course not, Milady. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I owe the beautiful lady dinner.” He stepped smoothly around them and took her arm. With the skill of a dancer, he led her through the crowds and well out of sight before speaking. “I don’t know who you are, but I owe you, and I’ll be happy to buy you dinner at whatever café you prefer,” he said quietly.

She gave him a smile and beamed inside. She still couldn’t believe that had worked as well as it had. She gave her amulet to Fortune a slight squeeze and let out a happy sigh. “No need for that, I’ve had two tarts and couldn’t eat another bite if I wanted,” she replied. She had expected him to release her arm once they were away from the scene, but he held it still in a light grip and had slowed his pace to a leisurely walk.

“Well not tonight then, perhaps another,” he offered.

“Perhaps,” she agreed, though she doubted she would ever accept. It seemed as though he was guiding their path, but she had no idea toward what. She began to wonder if she should have helped him after all. There was a chance she had just placed herself in a very bad position.

“You obviously know my name. Might I have the pleasure of yours?” he asked.

“Jaladene,” she answered simply, her attention focused on their surroundings and trying to guess what destination he had in mind. Her happiness at her recent success was rapidly fading. She didn’t think she knew the city well enough to predict where they were going. They were moving away from the market district, and that was the one she knew the best. “I really should be getting back.”

“Relax, you are perfectly safe.” He sounded amused.

“Where are we going?” She asked, still unsure.

“You won’t let me buy you dinner, so I thought I’d get you a drink instead. It’s the least I can do,” he replied smoothly.

“What if I’d rather just go home?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We could do that, but I’ve only just met you, and I’m not sure it would be proper. But I’m game if you are,” he replied easily.

She felt her face turn red and sputtered a bit. “I didn’t mean with you,” she objected fiercely.

He laughed and gave her a grin. “I was teasing you,” he assured her. “Here we are.” He motioned ahead of them, and she looked up to study the three story building in front of them.

She had noticed it the first night in the city for the beautiful mural of dragons on the wall. A gilded sign hung over the door with the words “Dragon’s Nest” carved in elegant scrawl on it. She could hear faint music coming from inside, and the lights in the windows were soft and inviting.

“Are you going to let me buy you that drink?” he asked after a moment.

With a sigh, she gave a slight nod. Shade wouldn’t be back for hours, and she didn’t really want to go home. It would be nice to have some company, and he didn’t seem to be as bad as Shade had made him sound. “Just one,” she agreed and followed him up the steps into the beautifully decorated inn.

He led her to the second floor and to a corner table, and then pulled the seat out for her. She paused for a moment, unsure. No one had ever actually pulled a chair out for her before. She sat slowly, and he gently pushed the chair in and sat opposite her. “So you are a first year, right?” he asked once seated.

“How did you know?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Just a guess. I would have remembered you if I’d seen you before, and you are about the right age for the Academy, I think,” he replied.

“How can you possibly tell my age? Everyone that has even a hint of Immortal blood glows with youth,” she objected.

“Ahh…but not when you look in their eyes. You do have beautiful eyes, by the way. I’ve never seen violet eyes before,” he returned.

She felt herself blush slightly and was immensely grateful when the waitress arrived to take their order. Finn looked up at her with a charming smile. “We will have a bottle of Essence wine please, and on my tab.” She nodded her head in answer and turned quickly to go.

“So, how old did her eyes say she was?” Jala asked with a smirk.

“Twenty-seven,” he answered smoothly. “That doesn’t count, though. She told me with her lips four nights ago, so it’s cheating.” He gave her a smile and a wink.

She gave a soft chuckle and watched the waitress when she returned with the wine. She was all smiles for Finn, but the look she gave Jala seemed a bit darker. She waited for the woman to leave again and looked at Finn with a frown. “Is that your girlfriend?” She asked in disbelief, amazed he would bring another woman to have drinks where she worked.

Finn gave a sharp bark of laughter and nearly missed the glass as he poured the wine and shook his head. “Aspects no, I don’t believe in commitment for the most part. I’ve slept with her, but I can say that about most of the single women of Sanctuary,” he answered, with amusement thick in his voice.

She stared in disbelief, first at him and then at the wine he pushed her. It was glowing and appeared to have vapor rising off it. “You don’t actually expect me to drink that, do you?” she asked.

“Just try it.” He urged and raised his own glass to his lips, taking a healthy swallow as if to prove it safe to her. “You’ll love it, once you try it,” he assured her.

One drink turned into two, and then two into four. All the while Finn kept a constant flow of conversation going. She had long ago relaxed in his company and was enjoying the witty banter quite a bit by the time they finished off the bottle of wine and left the inn.

“So, what circle are you in anyway? Maybe we will have a few classes together,” Finn said as they stepped back out onto the street.

She gave a snort of amusement. “Maybe none if I don’t get a few things figured out. I’m supposed to be first circle, but I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she replied with a sigh. Her head was a bit light from the wine. She hadn’t realized it had been that strong.

“Such as?” Finn pressed. If the wine had fazed him at all, she couldn’t see any signs of it.

“Magic,” she admitted, her tone as depressed as she felt on the topic. “I can’t seem to cast even the simplest spell no matter how hard they try to teach me. They swear I have magic, but so far I’ve seen no sign of it,” she finished.

Finn stopped mid step and she stumbled. Without hesitation, his arm was around her waist, steadying her and then he stepped away again and smiled at her. “You lucky girl, you. I can be of help then, and I’ll feel better, thanks for your assistance earlier, than a few shared drinks,” he said, his smile widening.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “How so?” She asked with a bit of hope. If he could help her figure out what was wrong with her magic, he wouldn’t be clearing his debt to her. He would be reversing it, and she would owe him.

“My brother, Sovann, is a savant with magic. There is absolutely nothing about magic he doesn’t know. If he can’t fix the problem, it can’t be fixed,” he answered.

“Could we visit him before admissions?” she asked, hoping her tone didn’t sound pleading.

He gave a short laugh. “We can visit him now, Jala. Let’s find a portal stone and I’ll take you to see him.” With that, he was tugging her along lightly. She felt herself smiling widely and mentally thanked Fortune. Lucky girl, indeed.

She stumbled as they stepped away from the portal stone and looked back at it with wide eyes. She had been wholly unprepared for the experience. It looked to be just a simple stone arch. Finn had pressed a rune on it and pulled her through, and then dizzy blackness. She looked around her, bewildered, as Finn held her arm to steady her.

He was giving her a thoughtful look. “You’ve never used one before, I take it?” He asked mildly, indicating the arch behind them. She shook her head in response and instantly regretted the action. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the transport that made her this light-headed.

He chewed on his lower lip with a thoughtful expression. “You don’t drink often either, do you?” He asked.

“Umm no. I tasted beer once and it was awful,” she answered, and wondered why the words sounded so strange.

He gave a slight snort of laughter. “You, my dear, are drunk,” he announced.

“I think it might have been the transport. I didn’t feel this wobbly when we left the inn,” she objected.

“I think the wine hadn’t hit you fully yet, and it’s only now caught up with you,” he corrected gently. “The transports cause a moment’s dizziness, but my dear you are wavering on your feet and slurring your words,” he said gently. She frowned up at him, and he offered his arm to her. “Here, until you are steadier. We have a bit of a walk, and there is a possibility that Sovann has something to sober you up.”

She took his arm, and he began to lead her through the streets. “We are in the Morcaillo district,” she blurted, once she had noticed the color of the lights.

“You know this area?” He asked, sounding a bit shocked.

“No, not at all, but I live in Shade’s…err…Christian’s wing.” She stumbled a bit on the name. She had gotten completely out of the habit of calling him Christian at all. Finn’s arm seemed to tense for a moment, and she wondered why she had even said that. She knew they didn’t get along well. “You are related to him, though, aren’t you? You bear some resemblance,” she added, wondering if he would even answer.

“Distantly.” He gave a sigh. “My great grandfather on my father’s side is Shade’s uncle.” He clarified and gave her a slight smile. “You can call him Shade. Not many bother with Christian unless they are addressing him directly and are not close friends. Everyone knows his shades of grey theory,” he finished.

“You don’t get along with him either, I take it. I had wondered if it was mutual or one sided,” she said, a little depressed at the thought because she enjoyed both of their company. She stumbled again on a cobble, and Finn paused to let her regain her balance.

“He doesn’t approve of my lifestyle, and I don’t care. That pretty much sums it up. It’s not that we hate each other or anything. We simply choose not to be around each other. He is still somewhat upset with me about a duel last year, as well,” he explained.

“He was really hoping Lex would beat you. I thought he had, till you threw him,” she mumbled. She felt her eyes widen as she realized what she had said. She looked up at Finn anxiously hoping he hadn’t taken offense.

He gave a snort of amusement at her expression. “My dear, I am not a High Lord. I don’t judge every word and weigh it for insult. Of course, Shade wanted Lex to beat me, Lex is a good friend of his, that’s natural,” he said gently and stopped. With care, he leaned her back against a wall and made sure she was steady. “I’m going to knock and make sure he is up. Wait right there.” He watched her to make sure she had understood, and quickly went up a few stairs and banged hard on a door. “Sovann!” he called, in a voice loud enough she was sure the entire neighborhood had heard.

She looked around to make sure lights weren’t springing on around them and was amazed to discover there were no houses around. They were in what seemed like a warehouse district. “Your brother lives in a warehouse?” she asked warily.

He glanced back down at her and seemed about to answer when the door in front of him opened. A slender young man in loose fitting tunic and breeches stood lined in light from the room behind him. His expression was one of complete exasperation. Jala looked between the two brothers with amusement. Sovann was lean where Finn was muscled, and his hair was long where Finn’s was cut short. It was as if the two of them had resolved to look opposite the other.

“What?” Sovann demanded. He gave a slight sniff in his brother’s direction. “Are you drunk?” he asked, his tone annoyed.

“No, but she is. Have anything to fix that by any chance?” Finn replied mildly and motioned for Jala to join him on the stairs. She gave him a questioning look, and it was obvious Sovann didn’t want their company. “It’s OK, he is always like this. He is my little brother. It’s all right for me to push him around.” As if to emphasize his words, he gave Sovann a gentle but solid push on the chest, knocking him back a few steps into the room.

“Why are you bringing your women to my place now?” Sovann growled from inside the door.

“She isn’t my woman, she is apparently Shade’s whom I believe is your current business partner. She needs help, and you are going to help her,” Finn replied. He glanced back at Jala again and made another slight motion with his hand. “C’mon, it’s OK. He is always this prickly. Personally, I think he needs…”

“You not to worry about what I need,” Sovann cut in before Finn could finish. “Bring her in while I’ll get something to sober her up.” His voice faded slightly, and she heard the sound of his footsteps as he disappeared back into the warehouse. She climbed the steps unsteadily, and Finn quickly held out his arm.

“No worries, doll, you will be walking straight in no time,” he said as she reached the top step.

Finn led her inside with the care one would give to an invalid. They passed by several darkened halls branching off from the dimly lit main hall and then entered a huge room. Enormous vats lined the walls, and she could see steam rising from the top of them. The center of the room held several tables all cluttered with an assortment of bottles and beakers. On the very back table, closest to the wall, she could see what looked like streams of very thin light in different colors rising from the table, where they seemed to be swallowed by crystals suspended in a semi-circle in midair. She was gawking openly when Sovann reentered the room.

He took one look at her face and then followed her gaze and looked back seeming pleased. “It’s my latest project. Here, drink this and I’ll show you, and then Finn can explain what in the Aspects is going on.” He handed her a small glass vial as he spoke and abruptly turned to cross to the waiting crystals and lights. She looked at the vial and then to Finn who nodded, and she gave a shrug. With a quick twist, she removed the lid and downed the vial and promptly gagged. It was the foulest tasting substance she had ever even smelled, let alone tasted. Had she examined it closer before putting it to her lips she never would have considered drinking it. She fought her roiling stomach for a moment, and noticed Finn’s hand was still steadying her.

“I really think he does that on purpose,” Finn whispered in sympathy. “I think he makes it taste like that to torture me, since I’m usually the only one ever drinking it.”

She gave a shuddering breath and noticed her head beginning to clear. She stood a bit straighter and shook her head at Finn. “Next time, I’ll stay drunk,” she gasped.

His expression was one of complete understanding. She gave another quick shudder and wished she had something to wash her mouth out with. To her delight, Finn handed her a flask. “Just take a sip or we will have to repeat the whole process,” he cautioned.

“What is it?” She asked with obvious hesitation.

“Jimpa Brandy,” he replied.

His eyes were roving around the warehouse, so he didn’t see the surprise on her face. She took a small sip, and a warm sweetness filled her mouth. She could taste the Jimpa fruit clearly in the alcohol and savored the familiar flavor. It had been so long since she had tasted that. “I thought Jimpa only grew in Merro. How did you get brandy made from it?” she asked cautiously.

“My father serves House Avanti. I get perks from that. The High Lord there stockpiles wines and various other liquors to age them for ungodly amounts of time. In this case, a little over ten years,” he explained as he took back the flask and tucked it into his pocket.

Sovann cleared his throat and Finn gave her a smile. “He either wants to show off his new project, or he wants to hasten us out of his warehouse. Either way, shall we?” He said and waved his hand gallantly toward where his brother stood waiting.

To her relief, keeping her balance was no longer a difficult act, and she crossed the room quickly, filled with curiosity as to whatever his project was, and if he could actually help her with her magic. She could see a sword balanced in the center of the table when she got closer. It was balanced carefully on several metal pegs and the streams of light seemed to be originating from its blade.

Finn looked down at it unimpressed. “You really need to get out more, Sovann,” he said dryly.

Sovann gave him a withering glare and looked to Jala where his glare diminished at the sight of her obvious interest. “This sword is a mage killer. It absorbs magic from its blade pierces,” he began. His slender fingers motioned to one of the beams of light. “What I am doing is separating the magic inside per type of magic,” he finished, sounding rather pleased.

“Why?” Finn asked. Both his voice and his expression suggested he thought the whole idea a complete waste of time.

Sovann flicked his gaze toward his brother and ignored the question. “I am then storing it in crystals and classifying the different types of magics I find. From what I’ve discovered so far this sword predates the barrier. There are magical energies here that are simply not found in Sanctuary. With luck and a lot of study, I’ll be able to master the magics I find,” he explained, his attention fully on her as if Finn no longer mattered.

“I didn’t even know such a thing was possible,” Jala said in a bit of awe. She could count at least twenty crystals. She had believed magic was magic. The idea that there were different kinds of magic was a bit overwhelming at her current level of knowledge.

“Now, what was it you needed help with?” Sovann asked her politely, still apparently ignoring Finn.

“I’m supposed to be studying at the Academy this year, in the first circle, and I can’t seem to master any magic. I understand I’m supposed to be able to cast the most basic spells just to pass Admissions, and at this point I can’t even summon a small light,” she answered miserably.

Sovann raised an eyebrow and looked at her. His eyes seemed to lose focus for a second and then he gave a short snort of amusement. “Easy enough, you have a block on your power,” he said. Sovann turned and abruptly slapped his brother’s hand as Finn reached for one of the crystals. “Don’t touch anything, Finn,” he ordered, and looked back to Jala choosing once again to ignore Finn.

Finn gave her a grin and winked, then leaned back against the table. She could tell from his expression he enjoyed tormenting his brother far too much. “Why would she have a block?” Finn asked.

Sovann gave a shrug. “Most parents put blocks on their children when they are very little, to prevent the more ambitious ones from starting fires and such when they have a temper tantrum.” He explained. He gave Jala a slight frown. “Your parents should have taken it off you well before now though. Certainly before they sent you to the Academy,” he added.

“My parents died when I was young, I was raised in an Aspectvar,” she explained quietly.

Finn turned to regard her thoughtfully, and she saw a flicker of what looked like sympathy, for just a moment on his face.

Sovann simply nodded with understanding. “That would explain that. I can, of course, remove the block, and if you have about an hour, I can most likely teach you a few minor spells to get you past admissions,” he offered.

A smile broke across her face and she felt her heart give a small leap. “Really? You would do that?” She asked, excitement filling her voice. Both brothers seemed amused by her response.

Sovann looked between the two of them again and his expression shifted to puzzlement. “Finn, your fate line is reaching for her,” he said with hesitation.

“His what?” Jala asked.

“I highly doubt that. She really isn’t my type, Sovann. She has morals, and you know I hate that in women,” Finn replied to his brother with a smile.

Sovann gave a weary sigh. “You don’t have to be sleeping with her for fate lines to touch, you cretin. She could simply be a friend and your fates might run together.” He snapped at Finn and then looked to her. “Fate line is a magical term. Let me see how best to explain.” He paused and tapped his chin as he searched for words.

Finn shook his head again. “I don’t have female friends, Sovann. I have women I haven’t slept with yet. And as sweet as Jala is, she would require too much effort. I much prefer women that fall into my bed with very little effort.”

Jala looked at him and frowned. She had thought them well on the way to becoming friends, but apparently not.

Sovann looked at his brother in annoyance. “You are such a pig at times. I can’t believe we are actually related.”

Finn gave him a charming smile and a wink. “I know, but I’m sure Father has looked into it by now and decided he has to accept you regardless. Besides, I think Mother loves him far too much to have cheated on him. So we will simply have to believe you were dropped on the head or something,” he said.

Sovann glared at him a moment, and Finn made a light oinking sound that had Sovann once again ignoring his brother. He turned his attention fully back to Jala. “A fate line is quite simply as it says. I cannot describe it any better. It is a thread of your aura, or soul. It shows the path of your life. Yours has scars, but I won’t ask. I wouldn’t have mentioned it, had it not been for my brother. I find it sickly ironic that not even his fate line can stay away from beautiful women,” Sovann said with a sigh. Finn gave a laugh at his words and Jala simply shook her head in disbelief.

Sovann cleared his throat before speaking again. “Before we begin, let me explain the fundaments of magic to you. Well, basic fundaments anyway. It will make the process of learning much easier for you.” She gave him a nod, and he continued. “There are three basic types of mages. Those, of course, have various schools to them, but for now we will stick with basics only. The first type is the Channeler. This type of mage channels energy from a particular focus. It varies from caster but it is generally just one type. Aspects, for example, are Channelers where their focus is faith. The more faith their followers have the stronger power they have to call on. Understand?” he asked, once he had finished the explanation in clear precise tones.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod.

“With a Channeler, if they have full access to their focus they are nearly unstoppable. But if you take away that focus they must rely on their own personal store of magic which is rarely ever much. You see every Immortal has a personal store of magic. Those cretins such as my brother who rely on swords have very, very small reservoirs. A Channeler is the same essentially. They rely on a focus as much as my brother does his sword, so they never build a strong reservoir.” He watched her until she nodded her understanding and calmly moved on.

“Then there are Weavers. They are much rarer, and you will almost never encounter one. I am a Weaver, so you are lucky to actually meet one. We draw magic from everything around us, small amounts as a rule. And we cannot draw much magic from any one thing or we will destroy it, or kill it, if it happens to be a living target. Our magic is not as battle-worthy as a Channeler, but we excel at the creation of magical objects.” He motioned toward the sword as if to emphasize his words. “We have other talents, of course, but the main thing to remember is Weavers can draw off of you even if you do not wish them to, and if they have ill intent they can kill you just by doing so,” he finished. She gave another nod for him to continue, absorbing every word he spoke as if it were the gospel of Fortune.

“Last, there are Sorcerers. Pay close attention here. You qualify as one,” he cautioned, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn’t actually expected to qualify as any sort of mage. She was just hoping to learn enough to pass Admissions. “Unlike the Channeler or the Weaver, a Sorcerer’s magic is innate. They can simply see a magic and mimic it. The other two have to study a spell and commit it to memory from runes or books. However, Sorcerers do not use a focus or draw magic from the outside world. It comes only from their reservoir. For this reason alone, there are not many powerful Sorcerers. In order to build your personal store of magic, you must exercise it, such as Finn working out with his weights. You must steadily use more and more. This will leave you in a constantly weakened stage until you get your reserves to the level you wish them to be.” He paused, watching her closely.

“How do my reserves refill if I don’t draw magic from the outside world,” she asked.

“Excellent question and proof you are listening closely. It will occur naturally on its own. Meditation will help, as will sleep, but the speed it regenerates depends on the casters and their strength. A very powerful Sorcerer will refill his reserves before a weak one. Despite how it might seem, the weak one would be at full capacity first given the smaller reservoir,” he answered.

“You should teach at the Academy,” she told him with a grin. “You explain everything so clearly,” she added.

He gave a pained groan. “Aspects no. I’d not wish that on my worst enemy. Now, another thing you have to know is that Sorcerers have what are called Familiars. If you watch for them at the Academy, you will notice them. They are usually some sort of common small animal like a cat, or a bird. I’ve even heard of frogs and such. It depends on the person. The best way to explain the Familiar is that it is an extension of your soul. So the animal that comes to you will be a reflection of your inner self.” Sovann raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to hazard a guess at what yours might be, but do you understand what I mean about them?” He asked.

“I think. You are saying, by seeing a person’s Familiar I can define certain qualities about him, such as a Sorcerer with a cat could be considered intelligent, curious, or perhaps cruel, whereas a Sorcerer with a rat is likely cunning and resourceful, and most likely a bit sneaky,” she answered with only a hint of hesitation.

“That is pretty close to the mark. You get the general idea of it. You will have to come back and show me what sort of animal comes to you. I admit I’m rather curious.” He sat down on a stool and motioned her to do the same. “Have a seat and we will start learning a few basic spells. Just watch me and attempt to mimic my actions. It will be rough at first, but once you figure it out only the size of your reserves will limit you.” Sovann said and indicated a stool across the table from him.

With the eagerness of a child, Jala dropped lightly onto the stool and waved for him to start. Her smile wouldn’t seem to fade and her heart was lighter than it had been in days. She could feel the frustration at her failures already falling away.

“Look. Light!” She chirped happily to Finn. She was more skipping than walking and had been showing off her new found skills for most of the way back to the school. She beamed at the small globe of light cupped in her hand. It shown pale violet and clearly lit the way.

“Beautiful light,” Finn agreed good naturedly.

She let the light die away and abruptly summoned it again. “Light!” She chirped again, fully aware that she was making a fool of herself, but too happy to care. Finn gave a chuckle and shook his head. She let the light dim once more and gave him a hug on impulse. “Thank you so much, Finn,” she said in a voice filled with joy. She gave a slight bounce once she had released him and summoned the light back and dismissed it again with a giggle that sounded a bit mad, even to her ears.

“Sovann did everything. All I did was take you to see him, and that was the least I could do after you saved me from getting exiled.” He replied in a voice barely above a whisper. “And here you are, Milady. It has been a pleasure meeting you, and may we cross paths again.” He indicated the serpent marked door before them and gave her a slight bow.

“I hope we do, Finn. Next time, I’ll buy you the drinks,” she said happily. “But I won’t drink the potion,” she added, her voice firm.

He gave a soft chuckle and the door opened. They both turned to look, her with an expression of surprise and Finn with a guarded look. Shade looked between the two of them his eyes lingering for a moment on Finn before he turned to Jala.

“I’ve been worried sick, I sent Leah out to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost. Are you OK?” he asked in a voice filled with concern.

Her expression turned a bit guilty. “I’m so sorry, Shade, I expected to be back sooner. I should have sent word. But look!” Her tone went from somber to happy with the last two words and she held up her hands in front of him and summoned the small light back. “Light!” She exclaimed.

Shade’s expression shifted to amaze. “Congratulations, Jala,” he said with a smile, and moved aside so she could come inside the hall. “Thank you for seeing her home, Finn.” He offered in a voice that was grudging.

Finn had been smiling at Jala’s obvious joy, but the smile faded when Shade turned his attention to him. “Think nothing of it, Lord Morcaillo. It was done as a kindness to the lady. Congratulations to you, by the way, I understand this was an important dinner for you.” Finn’s voice was as cold as ice. “I must say, it came as rather unexpected gossip to me considering recent rumors I had heard of you.” He gave Jala a glance and a smile and then looked back to Shade. “But it’s late, and I’m sure the lady wishes to rest. Goodnight to the two of you,” he said in the same cold voice and walked back down the path.

Puzzled, Jala watched him go. Her hands had fallen back to her sides, and the light spell was all but forgotten. Finn had said he didn’t hate Shade, but that certainly seemed to be hate to her. “Should I offer you congratulations, as well? I’m not really sure what he was talking about,” she said at last, in a voice that had gone soft.

For another quiet moment, Shade watched the path Finn had taken, and then closed the door and turned to Jala. “No, of course not, it’s nothing. I’d rather hear about your magics and how you learned them.” He motioned her back down the hall and she quickly began telling him all about her night.

Chapter 13

Sanctuary

“I think I finally have it figured out,” Jala said to Shade as she fell in step beside him. They stepped out into the bright sunlight of a warm summer day. She stopped on the stairs leading down from their rooms and closed her eyes to bask in the warm sunshine. There was a gentle breeze drifting down the path and it hung heavy with the scents of the garden flowers.

Shade raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked. He had stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stood waiting for her.

She opened her eyes and joined him once again, and they began to walk slowly toward the market district. She felt her pace pick up a bit in anticipation of the café they favored on free days. The nightmares had started coming nearly every night over the past month, and coffee seemed to be the only thing that kept her going throughout the day. She had even taken to wearing a bit of makeup so no one would notice the dark circles under her eyes.

“The Academy,” Jala answered finally, pulling her thoughts back to the conversation. “I’ve caught up on all of my classes and have high scores. I no longer get lost, and I’ve gotten my routine down perfectly now. Five days of nothing but study and two days of relaxing before the studying starts again,” she clarified.

“Then you have gotten it down faster than most. I’ve seen students that have been here for years, wandering around with the confused look that plainly says they have no idea where they are. You have scarcely been here three months.” He nodded his approval. “But then you seem to learn everything with exceptional speed,” he added with a smile. They walked for a while in silence, and she fairly sighed with relief when they reached the café and the waitress brought them their usual breakfast the moment she saw them. Jala sipped the coffee gratefully and took a dainty bite from the tart. As soon as Shade had discovered her love for blackberry tarts, this place had become a tradition every morning on the first of their two free days.

Shade took a sip from his own coffee and examined the Danish on his plate. “It’s amazing how she guesses which flavor to bring daily. It’s never the same and it always seems the right choice.” He shook his head and glanced at the waitress.

“Must be a diviner who awakens every sixth day and meditates on what to give Lord Morcaillo for breakfast,” Jala said with a perfectly straight face.

Shade rolled his eyes. “Please don’t call me that. I never want to hear you call me anything other than Shade.” His voice held a note of pleading.

“I was only teasing.” She squeezed his hand in apology and gave him a smile. “You want to see a play today?” she asked to change the subject.

He frowned. “I can’t today. I have things I have to do in my quarter. I have time for breakfast and then to walk you back to the Academy if you like, but other than that I have no time till this evening,” he said with clear regret. “We can go this evening if you like,” he offered.

“Maybe. I think I’ll study in the gardens until then, and we will see what kind of mood that leaves me in before I decide.” She paused for another sip of coffee and tried to convince herself that studying was the best use of the day. “It’s probably for the best that you have things to do. I have a test coming up in history, and while my marks are good currently, if I don’t study they could turn very bad, very fast.” She took another sip from her coffee and leaned back in her chair. “Will you be going by to see Sovann?” she asked.

Once Shade had learned she had been to meet Sovann, he took her with him on the few occasions he had visited the mage. On the last such occasion, Sovann had loaned her a couple of books to read on the different branches of magic. She had finished those days ago and should have gotten them back to him by now, but between school and other trivial things she hadn’t. She would have sent them with Finn to return to his brother, but since that first night they had met, Finn seemed to be avoiding her. She had noticed him a few times during her lunch break, but he always seemed to be surrounded by fawning girls. At most, he gave her a simple nod of greeting when he did notice her.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but I can if you’d like me to return the books for you,” he offered.

She smiled. Shade had a knack for knowing her line of thinking. He had, of course been with her when she had borrowed the books, but there was no way he could have known she had already read them all.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping. Thank you for offering,” she said. He gave a slight nod, and they sat for a while in a peaceful silence. Unlike with most people she knew, when Shade was quiet it didn’t grow uncomfortable. It always seemed soothing or relaxing to her. Of course, there were days when she would talk nonstop about some current interest or something she had seen in one of her classes, but today this silence was perfect.

She hadn’t really made friends at the Academy, other than Shade and his household, but she didn’t notice it at all. She didn’t need any more than what she had, to be content. Shade kept her company most of the time, but on occasion, she would play a game of tiles with Oma, or gossip with Leah. Lex was usually quiet, and she didn’t know him as well as the other three, but the center of her foundation was Shade, without a doubt. Madren was still a pain, but she had learned how to avoid him, for the most part. She didn’t share any classes with him, thankfully, and when he was home he usually stayed near his rooms. She made it a point of going out or staying in her own room, aside from her tile games with Oma, which they played in Oma’s small quaint room.

“What are you thinking about?” Shade asked quietly. She looked up from her coffee cup and found him watching her with a gentle smile.

“How much I enjoy your company,” she answered honestly.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a slight nod. So we are of a like mind there,” he said. “I find myself reluctant to finish my breakfast because I know when I do I’ll have to part ways with you. So I’m ignoring this excellent Danish.” He gave the pastry a slight push with his fork and took a sip of coffee.

Jala gave a delicate snort of amusement. “It’s not as if you don’t know where to find me at the end of the day,” she replied in amusement.

He looked down at her own half-eaten tart and pointed at it with is fork. “And it’s not as if you don’t know I’ll find you,” he countered.

She gave him a grudging smile. “Point taken,” she said and lifted her tart to finish it.

The garden was filled with more people than she had expected it to be. Though, that really shouldn’t surprise her, because it was a beautiful day and all of the flowers were in full bloom. She scanned the area and noted Finn sitting beneath a tree, with a blond leaning against one arm and a brunette resting easily in the grass with her head balanced on his knee. She appeared to be reading a book aloud to her companions. Jala rolled her eyes. She had never seen Finn with the same girl twice. She wondered if his current company realized they were working on limited time.

She turned her attention away from them and continued her search for a quiet place to read. After a moment, she spotted a small table that was vacant under the drooping branches of a willow. She moved around the edge of the garden toward the table and tried to ignore how many watched her go. That was the most unsettling thing about the Academy. It didn’t seem like she could go anywhere without being watched. She heard a few whispered comments, followed by tittering laughter, but they were all spoken too softly for her to hear the jest.

She settled herself in the seat closest to the tree’s base and opened the history book. She had heard other students groan at the assigned chapters, but she had no complaints. She had lived so sheltered at the Temple, that any sort of learning, no matter the class, was fascinating to her. “The Scarlet Jungles” labeled the chapter, and she leaned in to read. A full-sized illustration of the famous Flame Riders covered one page, and she studied it closely. The artist had rendered them as if they were just emerging from a bonfire. The slender red horses and their fierce red armored riders had been done with such loving detail, Jala wondered if this was a smaller rendition of a famous work. She traced her finger along the line of fire at the bottom of the page and wondered if they could truly cross through flames. Her history teacher had said the Firym Flame Riders often used that tactic. A large bon fire would be erected behind their lines and their fire mages would hurl bolts of flame into the enemy lines. The Flame Riders would then ride through one fire and out another, scattering their enemies in the chaos. She found it hard to imagine a horse willing to set foot in fire. The beasts were typically terrified of it.

“There you are!” An all-too-familiar voice exclaimed happily when she was barely three pages into her reading. She looked up to see Madren grinning madly at her. Part of her was amazed to see him outside, while the other part was too busy contemplating hitting him with the book to be amazed. She was too tired to deal with him now. With a final longing glance back to her book, she closed it and wished wistfully a Firym were near at hand. She had an idiot they could use for kindling.

Madren dropped into the chair across from her, oblivious to her mood. He gave her another huge smile and set a rather large box down on the table in front of her. “I made this for you,” he said. “It took me all morning and the ingredients were not easy to get, but it’s worth it to see you smile.” He watched her expectantly, as if she would at any second burst into a smile.

How can he not read my expression, Jala wondered as she looked from him to the box. He honestly expects me to smile, she realized. He looked a little disheveled and appeared to have some sort of dark substance dotting places on his slightly wrinkled tunic. It was unusual for him, for Madren was usually tidy. She looked back down at the box, and with grim determination to be done with all of this, she opened it. Inside, resting carefully on colored paper, were little brown squares of what she thought was chocolate that alternated in design. The first one she saw was heart-shaped that read, “I love you” on the top. The next was two hearts squeezed together that read, “Marry me.” She stared in disbelief at the words. She looked back up from the box and her jaw dropped slightly. Madren clearly misunderstood her reaction. “I made the chocolate and the molds myself, and I know it’s soon. But when something is so right, you just have to act on it,” he blurted happily. She was trying to find the proper words when a third voice she didn’t know cut in.

“You! Out of here,” the feminine voice ordered, and Madren let out a short squeak and fled.

Jala watched him flee in disbelief. She had never seen him move so swiftly, not even when Leah threatened him. Jala looked back to the speaker, unsure if she should thank her or not. The girl was, in a word, perfect. By now, Jala had gotten used to all of the Elder Blooded being beautiful, but this girl seemed to go beyond that expectation. Her hair was a deep burnished gold with not a strand out of place. A jeweled hair net sparkled in the filtered light, showing motes of red here and there where rubies rested. Her face was delicate, her lips full, and her expression was very controlled. Jala couldn’t decide if it was irritation in her eyes, or fury. She wasn’t sure what she had done to earn either. The girl carefully lifted the skirts of her flowing red dress out of the way and sat down in the chair Madren had vacated. She tilted her head at Jala in a way that would have been fetching, had her blue eyes not been so stormy.

“Do you know who I am?” the girl asked, though her tone nearly making it a demand.

Jala shook her head slowly, with her emotions divided between curiosity and trepidation. “Should I?” she asked quietly. The girl had chased off Madren, but the expression on her face suggested Madren’s company might have actually been preferable. Then, with a sinking realization, she noticed the entire garden had gone still. Everyone else knew who this girl was, apparently, and they expected this to be quite the show.

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You should, but I wouldn’t expect a peasant to know such things, so no harm done. My name is Cassia Avanti.” Her voice was clipped and filled with annoyance.

Jala searched her mind for why Cassia would be so upset with her, but the only time that she could remember she had even heard reference to Avanti, was from Finn. Surely this didn’t have anything to do with Finn. It had been some time since they had shared the drinks. Jala glanced in his direction, and found him watching the table, his expression guarded, but intent. She looked back to Cassia and raised an eyebrow, noting that no one had called her a peasant since she had arrived, nor had anyone really talked to her at all. This exchange had her completely off guard. “You are obviously upset with me, but I’m not sure why,” she prompted gently.

Cassia looked ready to spit, her expression no longer controlled. “He hasn’t told you?” She demanded.

Jala’s eyes widened. “Who? Told me what?” She asked.

“Christian. He hasn’t told you we are betrothed?” She responded with venom in her tone.

Jala felt her stomach drop and her throat grow tight, and was certain she had paled with the words. Cassia was watching her so closely she had no doubt the enraged woman had seen the truth written clearly on her face. She shook her head slightly. “I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Obviously not, so let me explain why I’m so upset, peasant girl. Since the Spring Games, there have been rumors about the two of you, and since the last day of the Spring Games I have been his betrothed. I have waited patiently for over a month for him to stop prancing about with his peasant bed warmer on his arm, but as of yet, my patience hasn’t paid off. And then this morning I start hearing rumors about me and how I can’t equal up to your rustic charm. He is already a laughing stock over this whole fiasco, and now they are laughing at me.” Her words flooded out in a tirade.

Jala remained silent and let the words wash over her. She fought to keep her eyes from going glassy. How could he not tell her? As nasty as Cassia seemed to be, she had every right to be angry. One did not keep company with others when they were betrothed. She thought back on the plays and dinners she had shared with Shade over the past month and cringed inside. No doubt everyone had misunderstood their relationship. Though Shade was no more than a friend to her, others would think it something more. She felt herself crumbling inside. It was too much - Her nightmares and lack of sleep, Madren, and now this. She bit her lower lip and tightened her hand into a fist below the table. She would not cry in front of this crowd, nor would she show weakness to Cassia. She forced herself to swallow and took a deep calming breath.

“So, while you may not like me and I certainly do not like you, consider Shade. Even if he doesn’t seem to care, he should. Without a reputation, he is nothing in society and you are killing his. I’ll give you a week to part ways with him so you can do it without too much drama,” Cassia finished. Jala was sure she had missed some of the girl’s words, but really didn’t care to think what they might have been. There was obvious threat in her last words, though, and that shouldn’t be ignored.

“Cassia, does your brother know you have gotten out of your kennel again?” Finn asked as he dropped lightly into the chair by Jala. Cassia looked at him in disbelief, and outrage at his greeting. “I know he would be upset if anything happened to you. From what I hear you are the favorite bitch of the Avanti House,” he finished with a smile.

She glared in mute outrage and then looked to Jala with an expression that could wilt flowers. “We will speak of this later,” she hissed and rose with the toss of her head and stalked off.

“That really is a wonderful dress, Cassia. It does amazing work at slimming. You should keep that tailor.” Finn called after her in a cheerful voice.

Jala stared at him, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe you said that to her,” she whispered after a moment.

Finn turned to face her, his expression no longer cheerful. “She is a bitch and that dress does make her ass look smaller,” he returned with a shrug. “Are you OK? What did she say to you?” he asked with a look of concern.

“A lot and nothing I care to repeat,” Jala answered quietly. She looked up at him and almost broke into tears. “You know I didn’t know, right?” She asked.

He gave a slight nod. “I know, and I tried to prompt him into telling you,” he replied, his tone more serious than she had ever heard from him.

“What do they say about me? I wondered why they all stared, but I didn’t realize there were rumors about me and Shade.” She watched him half afraid of his answer.

He toyed with the edge of the chocolate box and gave a light shrug. “They say you are his whore and that he enrolled you in school to keep you close as a bit of a joke. They say a lot of things. It’s their form of entertainment. They pick on those with less social standing and plot ways to kill each other off. Give it time and they will find another target.” He spoke softly and gently, but it didn’t take the edge off his words. “I’ve been avoiding you to keep more rumors from forming. I have my own reputation, and it would have done nothing but add fuel to the fire surrounding you,” he admitted with a sigh.

“I thought you just didn’t have any interest in my company,” she replied. The knot in her throat was getting bigger. She would have to leave the garden soon or risk breaking into tears in front of everyone. She could feel their eyes on them. “You know, I’m not, right?’ she asked at last, half dreading his answer.

“What? His whore?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course I know you’re not that sort. Believe me, if anyone can spot that sort it’s me,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “I was avoiding you for that exact reason. People know what sort of women I keep company with, and I didn’t want them to think worse of you than Shade was already letting them think.” He shook his head. “He should have known better. This mess lies directly at his feet,” he finished in a voice that was almost a growl.

“I don’t know why he didn’t tell me, but I won’t believe he did this with any malice. Shade is my friend,” she objected hoarsely and rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her face.

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and shrugged. “You know him better than I do, I’m sure,” he said. Leaning forward a bit, he flipped the box open silently and looked at the chocolates. He raised an eyebrow and lifted one of the “I love you” pieces out. “Oh, you are just having a great day all around,” he said dryly. “Well, if nothing else, you got chocolate out of it,” he said with a shrug and popped the chocolate into his mouth chewing slowly. His expression changed from a faint smile to disbelief after the first few chews. His chewing slowed and he swallowed, his eyes locked on her with the look of concern back on his face. “Jala, have you eaten any of these?” he asked.

She dropped her hands back to the table and looked at him wearily. “No, why?” She asked with a soft shake of her head.

“They are filled with rather strong alcohol,” he said then sucked on his teeth lightly. “And if I’m not mistaken are laced with Nesra,” he finished and looked back down at the box, shaking it slightly to see how many candies were inside.

“I don’t even know what Nesra is, Finn,” she admitted. She rubbed her face again and looked around at the people still watching them. “I can’t believe they don’t have something better to do,” she sighed.

“Nesra is an aphrodisiac, Jala, and there is enough in all this candy to have you panting after anything that moves,” he said, ignoring their audience completely.

She stared at him and looked down at the box and shook her head in disbelief. “Wonderful, just bloody wonderful,” she said in disgust.

“Marry me, indeed. Enough of these chocolates and you would be drunk and horny enough to do that.” Finn shook his head, his tone sharing her disgust. “That boy has issues.” He closed the box and leaned on the table watching her.

She sat for a moment longer and then looked at Finn, hoping he would understand. “I have to go Finn, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to leave here. It’s too much. I can’t take them watching me. I refuse to break in front of them.” She stood quickly and picked up her book, she grabbed the box of chocolates as well, and was turning to leave when he gently took her arm. She hadn’t even noticed him stand.

“Calmly now. If you don’t want them to see you break, we won’t even let them see you crack. Give me a bit of a smile, just fake it for a second. Once we are past them, you can cry on my shoulder if you want,” he whispered to her as he began to walk from the garden with her in calm measured steps. She forced a smile to her face and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him at the edge of the garden.

He nodded in reply and looked around for a moment. “Where are we going?” He asked. “I’ll walk you there and then head back to the garden so they don’t have a chance to gossip too much.”

“I’m just going to go back to my rooms and lie down. I want to sleep before I talk to Shade. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m sure that’s why I’m handling this so poorly,” she replied. He gave a nod and guided their steps that way. He remained quiet the entire way back to the rooms, and she silently thanked him for it, because talking was the last thing she felt like doing right now. She gave Finn a light hug in thanks at the door, and headed straight for her rooms. Crawling under the blankets and covering her head with her pillow seemed the perfect solution to the day.

Chapter 14

Sanctuary

Shade entered the hall to find Oma just on the other side of the door, apparently waiting for him. She regarded him, her pale blue eyes almost accusing. He paused, his expression bewildered.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

“She is upset, very upset, and I think it is your fault,” Oma accused in her quiet voice.

Shade blinked and looked toward Jala’s door and started to head that way. Oma stopped him with a light hand on his arm. “She is sleeping right now, and you should let her until the nightmares wake her. She needs what restful sleep she can get,” Oma said.

“What nightmares?” Shade asked, his confusion doubling. Oma rolled her eyes at him as if he was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. Her hand was still on his arm, and she tugged him gently toward her own room. She gave him a light push toward the table once they were inside, and shut the door behind them. “I am an Empath, not a mind mage. I tell you, she is upset and it centers around you, but I don’t know why. Just as I can tell you, she has nightmares almost every night, but I cannot tell you what they are about.” Oma spoke with such patience that Shade began to believe he actually was the stupidest thing she had seen.

“She’s never mentioned nightmares to me, and we talk daily,” he offered lamely.

Oma sat down across from him and gave him a dead pan stare. “And why would she? She is not the sort to want sympathy or coddling,” she answered with the same patience.

Shade nodded slowly and tried to think why she would be mad at him. The most obvious answer was the betrothal. He should have told her by now, but he had been avoiding it. It wasn’t as though they had done anything improper. They were friends, and that was it, but still rumors would have flown by now. He sighed.

“How bad is it, Oma?” He asked finally.

Oma seemed to consider the answer before she spoke. “I’m surprised she is still here,” she said finally. She gave a shrug. “If you handle this well, perhaps you can fix things. I would let her sleep as long as she likes, though. A well-rested mind is much more rational.”

Shade frowned at her words and fidgeted in his seat. “Let’s play tiles then, I’ll need something to focus on to keep me from going mad until she wakes,” he said. With long practiced ease, he began setting the tiles up on the table in a very complex pattern. Oma was a skilled player and he needed the game to be a tough one so it would actually distract him.

They had played three games, and the evening had darkened to full night, before Shade finally admitted she was going to sleep until morning. It was a good thing he knew that, but still it didn’t make the waiting any easier. He could barely stomach the idea of Jala being angry with him. He wasn’t exactly spoiled for friends, and the ones he trusted completely, he could count on one hand. Jala was perhaps the best person he knew. In his theory of grey, he would put her nearly white. He couldn’t think of another person he knew that would qualify for that. He rubbed his face, and fought back the urge to wake her once again. Tiles no longer worked. He had to occupy himself better.

He stood slowly and stretched before looking down at Oma. “I’m going out quietly tonight. It’s been a while since I have,” he announced quietly. Actually, I haven’t gone out quietly since Jala arrived, he realized once he had spoken.

Oma was watching him with a disapproving silence, giving the slightest shake to her head to indicate she didn’t agree with this plan at all.

“I won’t be sleeping tonight, Oma, and Jala needs to. I’ll be back before morning, and we will talk then,” he said with a tone that showed his mind was set.

“If you must go, be back by early morning, preferably before the sun rises,” she ordered gently.

He gave her a nod of agreement and headed to his own rooms. He began stripping out of the fine clothes the moment the door shut behind him. He threw open his closet door with a bit too much force and dug to the bottom of his trunk, scattering clothes. His hands brushed across the soft leather buried there, and he pulled it out. Worn, scarred, and battered, the leather armor was far from anything one would expect Christian Morcaillo to wear. He pulled on the under padding then laced the deep grey armor on quickly. With practiced ease, he fastened on a belt with several pouches, and secured half a dozen knives about him.

As silent as a shadow, he slipped from the window and up to the Academy roof. He scanned the area to make sure no one below had noticed him. With a satisfied nod, he moved farther back into the shadows and called on his birthright. His body began to shift, slowly at first and then rapidly as his mind made the demand more clear. His size shrank, his limbs changed, and his leather armor and gear changed with him, all absorbing into this new, smaller, lighter body. Where a man had stood moments before a small owl now perched. He ruffled his feathers a bit and looked himself over. Without hesitating, he pushed into the air and flew toward the rougher parts of Sanctuary.

He would become someone else there tonight. He would shift his form to one seldom used and become no one of importance. In those rough parts of the city, they knew him as Chris who had no father to please, no one to impress, and no lands to govern. He was a simple street rat, a rogue when he needed to be, but otherwise no different from the other commons. In those parts of the city, no one cared what he did as long as he left them out of it. The best part was, there was no way anyone would ever link Chris to Christian, unless he told them. The rogue was rougher of looks as well as manners. It was quite simply another life. The Changeling blood was innate, and the change would not show as magical. It was natural for them, and the reason they were nearly extinct. A true Changeling could be anything, anywhere, and it terrified people to know that there was a creature that could imitate them so completely that even their own mothers could not tell the difference. It was too much for most, so his family pretended to be something else. The Morcaillo’s were well honed at keeping secrets. He felt a bit of disgust at the thought and flew on toward his own personal secret. This one at least wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was just his way of feeling what a normal life was like. A few pints with his friends there and some time soaking in the shadows of the city and he would be ready to face the world as Christian the Shade once more.

Dim lanterns swung lazily outside the Pauper’s Pint, and the alleys to either side of the drinking house were as black as ink. The faint sound of a woman gasping echoed quietly from the alley accompanied by the steady grunting of a man. Shade eyed the garbage that spilled from the alley onto the street, and tried not to imagine what sort of whore would turn her tricks in the blackest of alleys. The porch of the tavern was empty tonight. That in itself was unusual. He took the two steps as one and pushed his way inside. With luck, he would find the Ravens here tonight. The small gang of thieves was the closest he had to friends in this persona.

The taproom was nearly empty, where, on an average night, this place was bustling. Shade eyed the empty, scarred tables and looked around the rest of the taproom. Sadie stood on the other side of the bar watching him as he entered. The buxom woman was normally all smiles and flirtations. Tonight, however, she simply watched him, her hands busy at cleaning a mug. He saw her swallow heavily as her eyes glanced to a corner booth. He could tell someone was sitting there, but he wasn’t at the right angle to see who. Shade looked back to Sadie and noted how pale the woman was. He cursed silently. It would seem his other life had poured over to spoil this fantasy. From the way she looked at him, he had no doubts that this trouble had come calling for him. He let out a long breath and moved silently forward, diagonal from the door, until he could see into the booth and get a decent look at its occupant.

The figure wore a long dark grey cloak with its hood pulled forward shrouding his face from sight. If it was a he, Shade reasoned. The figure’s posture was bent slightly over the table with elbows resting to either side. They held a battered mug in one hand, and he watched as the figure took a drink. From the way the cloak draped, and the gloved hands, he could see nothing to give him an indication of who was waiting on him.

“If you like we can talk across this distance, Shade, but I’d prefer a quieter word. I’m afraid I’ll have to kill the woman if she overhears too much,” a familiar voice called to him. Though loud enough to be heard across the room, the speaker had a knack for making every word seem a whisper. His voice was soft as silk and cold as ice. It was a voice one didn’t forget, partly from the tones of it, but mostly because it belonged to Hemlock, the leader of Sanctuary’s Assassins guild.

Shade moved quietly to the table. He had relaxed a bit when he heard the voice. It wasn’t that Hemlock was a friend, or that he trusted the man. It was the simple fact if Hemlock had a contract to kill him, Shade would never have known he was there. He took a seat opposite Hemlock and raised an eyebrow at the man. No one should have known him in this form. His hair was different, he appeared older, he had scars, and more importantly, he looked mortal and showed no trace of Elder Blood. The fact that Hemlock had known him did not surprise him at all, though. A man like Hemlock had to know everything or he didn’t last long. “So, what is it you wish to speak of, Hemlock?” Shade asked, his voice soft.

“Your new kitten, actually,” Hemlock replied in his cold dead voice. He sat the mug down between them and pushed it slightly toward Shade. “Beer?” He offered.

Shade eyed the glass for a bare second before shaking his head in refusal. It was rumored Hemlock added his namesake to everything he drank or ate. As far as Shade was concerned, that could remain a rumor. He had no desire to seek the truth of it.

Hemlock gave a mirthless chuckle and pulled the mug back over to rest in front of him. “Suit yourself,” he said quietly.

“Why do you wish to know about Jala?” Shade asked. He tried to keep the concern out of his voice. It would never do to have a man like Hemlock knowing how much the girl meant to him. He had barely known her three months. If he played his cards right, it would be reasonable for others to accept she meant little to him.

“Because others want her dead and I want to know what I’m killing before I kill it,” Hemlock answered in a tone that suggested he might have been commenting on the price of salt.

Shade kept his face a blank mask. “That would inconvenience me, Hemlock, because she is under the protection of my house, and to have her die in my care would look quite bad on my part,” he returned, his voice equally uncaring. There were times when he thought lying was the best honed skill of all of the High Lords. His acting right now was proving that thought quite accurately.

“You really are quite good,” Hemlock said after a moment. “Your eyes don’t dilate, you don’t sweat. You are a very good liar, Shade. I dare say it would upset you a great deal, no matter how uncaring you act.”

Shade leaned back in his seat and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag to buy himself time to think. He had never heard any rumors about Hemlock having mind magics, but then one never knew. And the assassin’s words echoed too closely to what he had been thinking for him to feel comfortable. He blew the smoke out slowly and watched it curl toward the ceiling. “She is a Temple orphan, Hemlock, and her parents were farmers. The only reason anyone would want her dead would be to hurt me,” he answered finally. “In truth, I’d rather you take the contract on me. She is innocent, and you and I both know how rare that particular trait is.”

“See, there is the problem with a good liar, I’ll just have to guess on whether you are telling the truth or not.” There was a faint hint of amusement in the Assassin’s voice.

“You don’t have to guess, you know I am,” Shade returned calmly. He took another drag on his cigarette and signaled Sadie to bring him a beer. The woman gave a hesitant nod obviously not wanting to approach the table. Shade looked back at Hemlock. “I know you won’t tell me who has asked for her death, but if you will tell me the price I’ll double it to keep you from taking the contract.” It was a slim hope and he knew it. Men like Hemlock didn’t thrive for being sentimental. Of course, it was also rare for them arrange such meetings.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been offered contracts on you, Shade?” Hemlock asked, once Sadie had set the beer down on the table and hurried away. He watched her go as he spoke and slowly turned back toward Shade for the answer.

“I’ve no idea. I can’t imagine I’d be sitting here if it were many,” Shade replied. He raised the mug and took a long drink of the dark bitter brew, and continued to pretend he was at ease. He’d only met Hemlock on a couple of occasions - once on a darkened roof chance meet, another time at a card game. He had never gotten a good look at the man, for Hemlock always seemed to be swathed from head to toe in cloaks the color of shadows. Both times had left him unsettled, and this time was proving no different. There were few men alive that had the same presence as Hemlock. You couldn’t disregard this man, no matter what station you held.

“Twenty-three,” Hemlock said. He ran a gloved finger down the handle of his beer mug while Shade sat reeling from the figure. After a long moment’s silence, he leaned back. “Now, ask me why I’ve never taken the contracts.”

Shade let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and flicked the ash of his cigarette onto the floor. “Well, that is a question I’d like answered, for I’m rather curious. Apparently I’m doing something right, and I’d like to know what to continue doing.” His voice did have a bit of a tremor in it now despite his efforts to control it.

“You are not a typical High Lord. I’ve seen what you do for the people of Sanctuary. You actually care about the commons,” Hemlock answered, his voice not quite as cold as normal.

“I actually prefer them,” Shade admitted. It was the honest truth, he realized. It was easier to find simple happiness on these excursions as Chris. He found it hard to believe, however, that the leader of the Assassin’s guild had any true compassion for the commons. “I’d rather have an old worn woman speak truth to me, than have a beautiful young High Lady lie in my face. These people are real while the High Lords are all actors. They never say what they mean, and they are always waiting for an opportunity to stab you in the back.” He regretted his choice of words the moment they left his mouth. No doubt Hemlock was fond of stabbing people in the back, if he took offense though he gave no sign.

“You don’t belong with them, nor do you belong in the Academy, for you have a way about the Shadows. Join the guild and I’ll see that you learn what you need to know,” Hemlock said.

Shade sat silent, repeating the words in his mind. He had never thought of himself as an Assassin, but an offer like that from this man couldn’t simply be thrown off. Hemlock was arguably one of the most powerful men in the world, despite his lack of a House. He took another sip of his beer. To never be Christian Morcaillo again. The thought was sweeter than he had ever imagined it could be. He looked back up to find Hemlock watching him, and wished, for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night he could see his face, for you could tell so much from a man’s eyes.

“I’ll let you think on it Shade. Such a decision should not be done lightly,” Hemlock said as he rose smoothly from the table.

“Wait, what about Jala?” Shade asked hurriedly before the man could move a single step.

“You will know soon enough on that. If she isn’t dead in a week, I didn’t take the contract,” Hemlock replied and turned without another word for the door. Shade watched him go and took another sip from his beer. If he joined the guild, he could possibly stop Hemlock from moving against Jala. He stared down at his beer and began to weigh seriously the options, for this was a choice that required heavy thought.

Chapter 15

Sanctuary

She stood on a black, wasted field. Ashes swirled around her feet. She turned slowly, looking around her. As far as she could see, the landscape was ruined and the sky was dark with storm clouds. Lightning flashed above her. The thunder that followed seemed to shake the entire earth.

“Find me. Why won’t you find me?” A voice called in whispery tones, repeating the phrase over and over again. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. One time it was her father’s voice, the next Father Belson’s, once it had even sounded vaguely like Shade.

“Find me,” it demanded. “I came when you called, but you were not here,” it hissed as if right behind her.

She whirled, stirring ash with her feet. The air behind her was empty, as she had known it would be. Her heart raced and the panic rising in her chest was making her skittish. She knew this waste, once there had been a Jimpa tree here right beside a small brook. To her north was a hill where her father had died trying to reach her. Perhaps those I should have died with are haunting me, Jala reasoned.

“FIND ME!” the voice bellowed, its tone no longer familiar. The air around her swirled with sudden wind, and she could feel the desperation and fury of the voice filling it. “I came to you, and you hide from me,” the voice growled, its words barely comprehensible.

The air moved to her left then back behind her. She shifted her feet, unsure of where to go. She felt stalked and pressed from all sides like a doe among a pack of wolves. “I don’t know you,” she whispered. She could feel eyes upon her, but she couldn’t tell where from.

“You must. You called me,” the voice replied, now seeming to come from her right. “NOW FIND ME!” It roared a last time as something large broke from the darkness coming right at her.

“I don’t know where you are!” she called desperately as she scrambled up from her tangled blankets. She crouched there breathing heavily with her brow covered with a slight film of sweat.

“I’m here, my love,” Madren’s voice whispered from nearby. He stood then and started to move toward her, yet she could barely make out his form in the darkness of her room.

“What are you doing in my bloody rooms?” She demanded, and fell back off the other side of her bed. She stood quickly and smoothed her nightgown before fumbling on a robe.

“I was watching you sleep,” Madren answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “And I drew you. You look like an angel when you sleep,” he added proudly and held up a small drawing book for her to see.

With a snarl, she crossed the room and snatched the book from his hands. She looked down at it and felt her anger surge again. “Why am I naked?” she demanded, her eyes still locked on his drawing.

“I used my imagination for that part,” he replied meekly before looking up at her hopefully. “Is it close to accurate?” he asked.

She threw the book down onto the side table and glared at him. “I do not have a tattoo, and if I did, it would not be your name,” she growled and pushed past him angrily. She had been dealing with Madren’s affections since the day she had arrived, but enough was enough. This could not be ignored. She knew she had locked her door, yet he had broken in and been watching her sleep. She shivered slightly and realized he was following her. “You stay right here, do not follow me,” she commanded in a voice that would brook no argument. He stopped in his tracks at her words, and to her annoyance seemed happy. She moved into the hall, her fury propelling her feet to a pace that was scarcely dignified. She didn’t even knock as she pushed her way into Shade’s room.

“I’ve had it!” she began as she stepped into the room, and then realized abruptly it was empty. Her mouth closed and she looked around the room in surprise. Perhaps it wasn’t as late, and he was still in the sitting room with the others, she thought to herself as she moved back into the hall and closed the door softly behind her. She heard noises coming from Leah’s room then, a soft thumping noise followed by muffled moans. Her face reddened as she realized what she was hearing and her jaw dropped a bit. She flicked her gaze back to Shade’s empty room and tried not to draw conclusions.

With a heavy swallow, she moved to Lex’s room, her shock quickly giving way to anger once more. She pushed the heavy door open and stormed inside. Lex sprang up at the intrusion, and his sword was halfway from its scabbard before he realized who was in his room. She wasn’t looking at his sword though. He stood half naked in just silk pants, and her eyes were locked on his left arm, where several tattoos twined around his wrist, just as her father’s had. Lex followed her gaze to his arm and then looked back at her forcing her eyes to meet his. His expression was controlled, but she could see caution in his gold eyes even from across the room.

“May I ask why you stormed in here?” He spoke quietly.

“It’s Madren. Shade and Leah are apparently occupied tonight, and someone has to do something about him because he was watching me sleep.” The anger was no longer in her voice and she was having trouble keeping her eyes from the tattoos.

Lex nodded and pulled on his shirt with a sigh. “He’s an idiot,” he muttered as he leaned his sword back against the wall by his bed and moved past her. She followed him silently with the desire to ask him if he knew Havoc or Victory, but biting her tongue. Better to ask him another time and let him just deal with Madren for now.

Lex opened her door and stepped into the room and gave a short laugh. “Madren, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his voice incredulous. She heard a slight yelp from Madren and pushed her way in behind Lex. Her entire room was covered in flowers. Every flat surface held vases of them. Rose petals were strewn on the floor; as well as his clothes she noted with growing alarm. She looked up sharply, and her eyes found Madren in her bed, scrambling to cover himself in the blanket. A rose hung limply from his mouth, and his eyes looked frantic.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” he said to Lex, his words garbled from the flower clenched between his teeth.

“Neither are you,” Lex pointed out, smothering a laugh.

Jala felt her temper reach a boiling point. She did not find the situation funny in the slightest. Finn was correct, the boy did have issues. “I’m glad you find this so amusing,” she said to Lex.

He had the grace to wipe the smile from his face at her words. Lex crossed the room in two quick strides and picked Madren’s clothes up from the floor and threw them at him. “Get up and get dressed. You’ve started enough trouble for one night,” he ordered.

Jala looked away quickly and busied herself trying to locate her possessions under the flowers. She shook her head in disbelief at the sheer number of Lilies, Irises, and Roses of every kind imaginable.

“I had no idea you had a tattoo,” Lex said quietly, the amusement back in his voice.

She whipped her head back around to them and found Lex waving a notebook lightly with a faint smile on his face. “That’s it,” she snapped and grabbed her coat from the door. “Tell Shade I’ll send for my things once I’ve made other arrangements.” She spun on her heels and headed for the door.

“Jala wait,” she heard Lex call behind her but ignored it. She didn’t slow her pace until she was well away from the rooms and yards down the winding path. She bit her lip and leaned back against a wall, letting the shadows cover her. She didn’t even know where she was going. She wore her coat over a night robe and gown and was barefoot. She glanced back toward the hall and her eyes narrowed. With a slight growl, she wrapped her coat tighter around herself and pushed off the wall. She would not be going back there. She began to walk again, not sure exactly where she was going, but too angry simply to remain still. The anger burned off slowly and the dream seemed to fill the void it left. She could still hear the voice. Before she knew exactly what she was doing, she was through the portal and making her way quickly toward Sovann’s house.

Sovann sat across from her quietly sipping the dark tea he had brewed soon after she had arrived. His hair hung loosely about his shoulders and by the rumpled look of his clothing she had woken him. He had not asked any questions about her arrival, though her bare feet had caused him to give her a strange look. He had simply let her in, brewed tea, and sat her down. He was watching her now, still silent, but his expression was concerned.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she began.

He cut her off gently with a shake of the head. “Tell me instead why you woke me; I can see you are distressed so there needs be no apology. I would like know what has upset you though. Should I send for Finn?” Sovann’s voice was so gentle she knew his concern was genuine.

“Why would you send for Finn?” she asked in confusion.

Sovann raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “If someone has hurt you, he would deal with them willingly and for free,” he explained. “He is a duelist by trade and he makes a living defending others.”

“No, no one has hurt me, it’s just Madren.” She gave a weary sigh and saw him nod in understanding. “You know him?” she asked in surprise.

“Finn has told me of him before. He has a reputation for being rather troublesome for women,” Sovann answered.

She rubbed her face and gave a slight nod. “He gave me a diamond necklace the day I arrived. Then he began reading really bad poetry outside my door at night. He showed up once outside my window to sing. It sounded as if a cat were being strangled. Then today he gave me a box of drugged chocolates that said “Marry me” on them.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “I simply cannot take his attentions any longer; I woke tonight from a nightmare to find him watching me sleep. Do you know how unsettling it is to find someone watching you sleep?”

He frowned at her. “Nightmares?” He spoke the word as a question.

She gave another nod. “That’s another part of the reason I’m here. I need to go somewhere, Sovann, and I don’t think I’m trained enough to guard magical transport. Will you help me?” she asked, her voice almost a plea. She had decided it on the way to his home. The only way to assure herself that she wasn’t haunted was to return to Merro. An odd mixture of dread and longing filled her at the thought.

“Where?” Sovann asked.

“I need to go to Merro,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. She expected him to ask questions, ones she wasn’t sure how she would answer. He simply nodded, though, as if the request were not unusual.

“You will need shoes,” he pointed out.

She shook her head slightly. “No, not even rocks remain in Merro, I’ll be fine,” she replied. She would have to return to her room for shoes, and she had no desire to go there tonight. She took another sip of tea and then looked over her shoulder at the sound of the front door opening.

She looked back to Sovann in question, but he wasn’t watching her. His eyes were fixed on the parlor door. A moment later it opened and Finn walked in. He wore fine clothing, a green silk shirt, and fine black linen trousers. His boots bore fresh dust on them from the street, and his swords were buckled on his waist. He turned to look at her as he pushed the door shut behind him and she saw no trace of sleep on his face. She wondered what entertainments Sovann had pulled him from and how angry he was with her right now.

“I understand we are going to Merro before I kill Madren,” Finn said to her as he took an offered cup of tea from Sovann. He smelled of smoke, beer, and faintly of women’s perfume as he moved closer. She looked back to Sovann before answering, and he simply shrugged.

“I’m sorry he took you from your entertainments, Finn. You don’t need to go with us to Merro, and you certainly don’t need to kill Madren. He is a fool, and an irritating one at that, but I’m not sure he needs to die for those crimes,” Jala replied.

Finn looked her over, taking in her night robe and bare feet with a glance. He took a sip from his tea, and she squirmed a bit under his gaze. She longed to reach up to straighten her hair but fought the desire back down. Doing so would just bring further attention to her disarray. He sat his tea back down gently and looked to Sovann. “What do you think?” he asked.

“That Madren is touched in the head, and either needs to have his mind repaired by a skilled mage or put out of everyone’s misery,” Sovann replied easily.

“There we have it then. Merro, then I kill the little bastard,” Finn agreed with a nod and gave Jala a smile. “No worries. He has been annoying me for a while now, and I won’t mind in the slightest.”

“You can’t just kill him,” she objected, trying hard to silence the voice inside her that seemed to rejoice at the thought. Madren didn’t deserve to die, she told herself firmly. Really, she couldn’t believe Finn was taking this so seriously. Why should this matter concern him at all? She barely knew him.

He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “Well, no, I’ll have to challenge him to a duel first. From there it becomes quite simple.”

“What makes you think he would accept a duel?” she asked. She could remember how quickly Madren fled before Cassia Avanti, and she had a hard time picturing him standing before Finn for any length of time.

“Simple. I’ll tell him it’s a duel for the lady’s affections. He will accept before he realizes what he has done,” Finn replied easily.

“This can be dealt with at a later time. Do you know where you wish to go in Merro, Jala?” Sovann asked.

“Exactly where I wish to go,” she said, the image of a long dead Jimpa tree and a small brook already filling her mind. Home, she told herself, I want to go home.

“Then I will simply reinforce the spell and you will do the casting. Safer that way. Let me gather a few things and we will go.” He rose as he spoke and made his way from the room.

She watched him go, and when she looked back, Finn was watching her. “Why would you kill Madren for me? You barely know me,” she spoke finally, breaking the silence between them.

“Do you remember the first time I brought you here?” Finn asked. She gave a slight nod unsure what this had to do with her question. “Sovann said my Fate line touched yours,” he said.

“And you said that wasn’t possible,” she reminded him.

“And even I am wrong from time to time,” he countered. Their eyes met at his words, and Jala felt his sincerity. She didn’t see it, she felt it. She held his gaze and remained silent, confused at the emotion that obviously wasn’t hers and unsure of what to say.

“Not words I would ever expect to hear from you,” Sovann said as he entered the room and his voice seemed to shatter whatever had passed between them.

Finn stood slowly, set his cup back down on the table, and looked to her. “Shall we? It will be dawn soon and we both have classes on the morrow,” he said.

She stood and looked to Sovann unsure. “I’ve never actually used a transport spell before. I took you for your word when you explained the dangers of someone interrupting my spell,” she cautioned.

Sovann gave a shrug. “Cast it anyway, if I feel you faltering, which I don’t expect to, I’ll bolster the spell,” he said with no concern whatsoever.

She gave a slight nod and offered a hand to each of the brothers and closed her eyes. She cleared her mind of everything and focused simply on the spell and her home. She felt the air shift around her changing from the warm parlor to an almost icy cold. Small drops of rain pelted her, and goose bumps began to rise on her arms. She opened her eyes and looked upon the wasteland of her nightmares. She hadn’t been back here since the Fionaveir had rescued her.

She felt Sovann gently remove his hand from her grip and she loosened her hold on Finn as well, without looking at either of them. Her eyes were locked on the landscape. It was still night here, and she wondered if the sun ever came out in Merro now. Thick and brooding storm clouds filled the sky. Faint flickers of lightening echoed through them. The ashes had long ago blown away, and all that remained was charred, dead ground. Swallowing, she forced herself to look at it all, to realize no ghosts remained here.

A bit of white on the black ground drew her attention, and she let out a strangled sob as she realized what she looked on. A small pile of bones lay strewn near a dip in the ground where a brook had once flowed. Memories flashed through her, of a small white fluffy pup with a black mark on his head and back. “He looks like he is wearing a cap, Daddy,” she heard her child-self saying. She remembered late nights when the nightmares had come, and he had curled up tight against her and licked her face when she cried. The last memory was the most bitter. Cap sitting below the tree warning her, his loyalty and love for her so strong he wouldn’t run without her. She blinked back tears and realized she was kneeling by the bones. She didn’t remember moving. She could hear Finn or Sovann speaking to her, but her mind was racing too fast to focus on their words.

Her gaze went to the hill and dread filled her. Wordlessly she scrambled to her feet and ran north, terrified of what she would find. She knew Finn and Sovann followed her but didn’t pause to explain, for she couldn’t explain. She searched the landscape frantically until her eyes locked on bones once again. Buck had been a large horse in life, and in death he seemed no smaller. She slowed her pace as she approached and swallowed heavily. She had thought them destroyed, turned to ash like the rest of Merro. Her eyes scanned the ground for what she most dreaded, but there were no bones of her father here. She dropped heavily to her knees beside what remained of Buck and picked up a tarnished buckle that had once been a part of a saddle, now long rotted. She lowered her head and let the tears fall as they would. There was no point in holding them back. She already had a lot of explaining to do to the Sovaesh brothers.

She felt Finn kneel beside her and strong arms pulled her closer. She buried her face in the green silk shirt and cried. He remained silent, simply holding her while she cried.

“We are not alone here,” she heard Sovann say in a voice barely above a whisper. She pulled back from Finn and wiped her eyes before looking around. Finn already scanned the darkened fields. One arm remained around her protectively, while the other rested easily on his sword.

“What do you sense?” Finn asked in a hushed voice.

Sovann shook his head. “I’m not sure, Finn, it’s strange. I don’t think it’s human,” he answered, his voice cautious.

Jala gave a shiver as she thought of the reason she had come in the first place - ghosts.

“Finally you come,” a deep voice said, and she realized with alarm she heard it in her mind and not out loud.

She must have jumped because Finn’s arm tightened around her and he looked at her with concern. “What?” he asked. She shook her head and remained silent, not wanting to say she was hearing voices.

“I don’t understand why bones cause you so much pain,” the voice spoke again. She shuddered and tried to determine how to answer. If she spoke out loud, they would both think her mad, and if she answered in her mind she wasn’t sure the voice could hear her. “I can hear you,” the voice assured her.

“What are you?” She asked it mentally.

“Sense me as I sense you,” it replied. “I have waited long for you, and there is no food here. Nothing but bones.”

She tried to focus on it as it spoke in her mind and to her surprise she did sense something. She wasn’t sure what. She knew that it was nearby, though her eyes showed her nothing. She stood slowly on shaking legs and began to move toward whatever it was she sensed. Finn stood as well, but she motioned for him to wait and he remained behind.

“Why do the bones cause you pain?” the voice asked again.

“Because they are the remains of those I loved,” she answered still moving toward the presence. She saw shadows coalescing into a solid form before her and had to steel herself to move forward. A shape slowly rose from the ground. It was huge, as big as a small pony. Cat-like in basic build, but with a longer muzzle; more like that of a wolf. A thick ruff of long black fur ringed its neck and traced a path down its spine with shorter grey fur covered its body. The creature fixed its yellow gaze upon her and seemed to be regarding her with the same curiosity. A long thin tail ending in a thick tuft of black fur, waved lazily behind the creature. She couldn’t believe such a large creature had been lying so close to where they had been, and not even Finn had seen it.

“It is in my nature not to be seen when I do not wish to be,” the creature spoke again in her mind. The mental speech no longer seemed so strange to her.

“Jala, that is a Bendazzi, step away from it,” Sovann called in a near-panicked voice behind her. She heard the sharp rasp of swords being drawn.

“No wait!” she called back, knowing any moment Finn would be rushing in to kill the beast. She had read about Bendazzis in the Beastiary at the school. Bendazzis were considered to be the top predator in all of the lands. They had magic resistance that made them nearly impossible to kill with a spell, and stealth that made hunting them a dangerous proposition. It was said they could shift their color to suit their environment.

“Why did you want me to come here?” Jala asked it in a whisper.

“You called to me first. I sought your home in your dream, and this is what you showed me so I came,” the creature explained.

“I didn’t call you,” she objected, her voice still hushed.

“You did, and I answered,” the Bendazzi insisted.

She remembered Sovann’s words then, and she stared at the creature in shock. “You are my Familiar?” She asked in disbelief. Familiars were supposed to be a reflection of your inner self from what Sovann had told her. What did it say about her that her Familiar was a creature with a reputation as dark as his coat.

The Bendazzi sat, his long slender ears came forward, and he cocked his head to one side. “Look into my mind and judge me on what you see, not what they say,” he urged.

She focused and tried to do as he suggested. Memories waited for her there on the surface. She saw fierce protectiveness over what he considered his territory, cunning, and intelligence beyond what she had ever thought an animal could possess. He guided her through his journey to Merro, and she witnessed tenacity and determination beyond what she had ever seen in any animal. He had swum the Black Sea to reach this place, a feat she could barely fathom. Lastly, she saw the loyalty that held him here for so long, despite the lack of game and shelter. He had waited weeks for her. She could see the gauntness of his body now, and the ribs that showed through his fur.

“How are you my mirror?” she asked in wonder. She could sense his puzzlement at her words. “I was told a Familiar is the echo of your soul, a mirror for what you are inside, and you are so much more than I am. You can’t be my mirror,” she explained, her voice still hushed.

“Jala, you really should consider stepping away from the large man-eating beast,” Finn called from behind her. She had thought much longer had passed, but it must have just been moments.

“I’m ok,” she called back to them as she dropped carefully down onto a knee in front of the Bendazzi and looked at him with wonder. So much for a bird or kitten for a Familiar.

“I was not puzzled by the term Familiar. I know much of the human ways. I was puzzled that you could not see yourself in me. I looked into your mind as well, Jala. I saw a little girl look terror in the face and ignore it. I saw a little girl that survived the death of a country. I see a woman who has forgotten this before me right now, but perhaps you only needed a reminder of that child to feel her strength again,” he spoke gently and with affection. Soundlessly, the creature rose and paced slowly to stand inches from her. She watched him as he approached, watching the powerful muscles shifting just below the skin, still amazed at the beauty of the beast. He sat back down in front of her and looked her square in the eyes, with more intelligence and wisdom than she had seen in most human’s eyes.

“What is your name?” she asked, as she reached out a hand to touch him. The fur was as soft as velvet, but the body beneath seemed more stone than flesh. She wondered idly what Shade would think when she showed up with a Bendazzi the color of pitch. What shade of grey would he see her as then?

“Bendazzi do not have names, we know each other by scent,” he replied. “My color still disturbs you, though, yet I don’t understand why. It’s camouflage. Nothing more.” He gave a slight shake and his fur rippled. The color seemed to leach out of it as each hair rose, and when he was still again, the long ruff around his neck was the color of fresh snow while the shorter hair on his sides and belly turned a silvery grey, like my coat, she realized with a start.

The Bendazzi let out a snort that almost sounded like rough laughter. “Exactly, my coat to match yours,” he agreed.

“You need a name,” she said and her mind began to sort through the possibilities.

“If I must have a name I will name myself. I’ve seen in your mind, and I will not be saddled with a name like Cap, as you did that dog.” The Bendazzi cut her off before she had thought of more than a few names.

“He had a black cap, and I was six when I named him,” she muttered lamely in her own defense.

“And I’m now white. What would you call me, Snowball? I think not. I will be Marrow. If you must call me something, call me that,” his voice sounded somewhat indignant.

“Marrow,” she whispered, trying the name. “Marrow. For the bones that mean so much to you, and for the dead land you call home,” he explained. “Speaking of which, if that man doesn’t put away those blades we will be leaving more bones here,” he added, looking past her toward where Finn and Sovann waited.

She looked back over her shoulder and stood slowly. Both brothers wore expressions of disbelief. “My Familiar,” she explained as she walked back toward them with Marrow pacing easily at her side.

Finn grinned widely and gave a light chuckle. “Well now, things will get interesting fast,” he said and flipped both swords around and slipped them easily back into their scabbards.

“Your what?” Sovann’s voice was nearly a gasp.

“Familiar, his name is Marrow,” she repeated. She felt herself shiver a bit and realized she was soaked through. She hadn’t even thought of the rain between the bones and then Marrow. Now, however, she felt the cold keenly.

“She is soaked and half frozen, Sovann, get us back home,” Finn ordered. He moved toward her, not the least bit wary of Marrow now, and took a place on the opposite side of her.

“Wait! The bones. I need to bury them.” she objected through chattering teeth.

“Done already, I did it when you first started to wander off. They obviously meant too much to you to leave rotting,” Sovann said calmly. He approached with more caution than Finn and his eyes never left Marrow.

The Bendazzi, for his part, seemed quite bored by the two of them and simply sat there on his haunches looking out over the wastes. “I will not miss this place at all,” he told her as Sovann began to cast his spell.

A shiver washed over her again and she closed her eyes remembering the beauty of Merro before its destruction. Images of vast green fields of knee high grass and the bubbling brook passed from her to Marrow. She fed him images of the Jimpa tree and the wild forests that lined the border between Merro and the Greenwild. Her mind filled with more memories as she waited for the spell to take her back to Sanctuary.

She felt Sovann’s magic wash over her and sighed in relief at the sudden warmth of his parlor. Marrow let out a contented noise that sounded half growl half purr. She opened her eyes in time to see Sovann take a hasty step back from them and survey the Bendazzi from a distance.

Finn let go of her hand and gave a sigh. “A hot bath for you now and some dry clothes. Then we talk,” he said in a voice that would book no arguments. “Sovann do you have something she can put on?” He asked. Sovann gave a slight nod and headed from the room, obviously glad to have a reason to be away from the Bendazzi. Finn turned his attention to Marrow and he smiled enigmatically. “He looks a bit thin, I’ll see if Sovann has some sort of food for him,” he said after a moment, and walked off through the door whistling lightly.

“I like him. He is bringing food,” Marrow said, with eager anticipation in his tone. She could sense his hunger now and was amazed he hadn’t actually tried to eat one of her friends.

Finn returned first with a large haunch of meat balanced on one shoulder. He dropped it lightly on the wooden floor near the Bendazzi and stepped back a respectful distance. He didn’t show any signs of fear, but he wasn’t stupid enough to get between a three hundred pound predator that was near starvation and a haunch of meat. Sovann entered a few moments later and motioned for her to follow him. “I’ve prepared a bath and laid out some clothes for you. We will wait in the parlor,” he explained as he led her to a door. He motioned her toward it and turned to leave but paused and looked at her. “I don’t know what exactly happened tonight, but I’m glad you took us with you, Jala. Whatever pain that place holds for you, well, that is not something that should be faced alone.” He squeezed her arm gently and left her there. She watched him disappear down the hall then pushed into the room.

Finn was sprawled on the couch with an arm over his eyes when she returned to the parlor. He was dressed in simple pants now, and, by all appearances, was asleep. Marrow lay sprawled nearby on his side, a bare bone the only sign of the meat he’d been chewing on when she left for her bath. She gave a faint smile, as she could well understand their slumber. She’d had a long nap earlier and could barely keep her eyes open.

Sovann sat in the corner of the room in an oversized leather chair. Of the three of them only he remained awake. He looked up at her from the book in his lap and gave her a smile. “I hope the clothes will suffice for now. I’m sorry I didn’t have something more appropriate,” he said quietly.

She looked down at the long nightshirt she wore; it was oversized and fell well past her knees and was made of fine dark linen. With a smile, she nodded to him. “It will serve until my own clothes are dry, thank you,” she replied.

Finn took in a long breath and sat up stretching. He let out the breath slowly and turned to look at her. “Better?” he asked, his voice thick and quiet.

She gave a nod in reply and he motioned her to the couch. She moved carefully around Marrow and took a seat on the far end of the couch, folding her legs back under her. Finn leaned forward to the table and poured her a cup of tea. “Okay, now explain,” he said as he handed it to her.

“Finn, don’t push her,” Sovann objected. “She will speak if she wants to. This is a tender subject. Don’t be an ass, though I know that is difficult for you.”

“Sovann, shut it,” Finn said, his eyes never leaving Jala. “Explain,” he said again, his tone was gentle, yet firm, but she knew this was not a topic he would drop.

She took a sip of her tea and gave a sigh. She knew he wasn’t speaking of Marrow. “How about I show you instead? It will be faster and easier for me,” she offered.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then gave a nod. “As long as you agree to answer questions if I have any,” he said.

“Finn, this is not our business,” Sovann objected once more.

“It is mine. I need to know what is going on if I’m going to keep her alive,” Finn returned.

“What do you mean keep me alive?” Jala cut in before Sovann could speak again.

“You weren’t a threat before, Jala, and there have already been contracts for your death. My father told me of them.” He looked meaningfully at the Bendazzi and back at her. “That just changed, my dear. You are a threat now, so show me what I’m looking after,” he finished and waved a hand for her to begin.

Sovann was still silent, and when she looked to him, she found him simply staring at Finn as if his brother had suddenly sprouted another head.

“Are you okay, Sovann?” She asked.

He blinked a time or two and nodded. “Just shocked. I’m fine,” he replied hastily.

“Come closer if you wish to know as well, I’d rather just do this once,” Jala said in a voice that was filled with exhaustion and dread. Sovann quickly moved his chair closer. Fortune had told her to not speak of where she was from, but that no longer seemed an option, and her gut told her the brothers could be trusted.

She reached inside for her magic and shaped it to her will. A pale form began to take shape before them, featureless at first then slowly coalescing into a mirror. She let her life play out before them in that mirror, showing them her more important memories as far back as she could remember till her arrival at the Temple. They watched in silence. She fought back tears as she watched it all again. She had never actually called these memories forward on purpose, before. Normally, she forced them back and tried not to think of them. The mirror faded slowly out with the last memory and silence remained for a long while. She sipped on her tea again as she stared down at Marrow. The Bendazzi was awake now and watching her with those cool, yellow eyes. Somehow it was easier to push back the tears and be strong when she focused on him.

“You have always been strong,” Marrow said. “But even the strong feel pain. To be hurt, is not to be weak. To let the pain destroy you, is weak, and you have not been destroyed.”

“Thank you,” she whispered to him, her gratitude for his words thick in her voice.

“So, who are you really?” Finn asked, now that the silence was broken.

“I just showed you,” she answered turning her gaze to meet his.

“You showed me where you grew up and who raised you, but not who you really are. Bendazzi don’t bond with farmer’s daughters, Jala,” Finn objected gently.

She gave a slight nod and let out a long sigh. “Other than what I’ve shown you, I don’t know,” she answered. She had been thinking along the same lines but hadn’t had the will to voice it. She leaned back against the couch and gave a slight shrug then fought back a yawn. She had pushed the memories back again, and now fatigue was taking their place once more.

“We should let her rest now, Finn; we can figure this out later. You know enough for now,” Sovann said quietly.

Finn nodded his agreement and stood slowly, stretching as he did so. She tried not to stare, but it was hard. Immortals as a general rule were beautiful. Shade had laughed when she had asked him about that. ‘Why wouldn’t they all look their best, they have limitless magic,’ he had replied. Finn Sovaesh was an exception even to that though every bit as much as Cassia Avanti was. His body was as toned as one could be. He was slender yet powerful of build with broad shoulders and the grace of a cat. His skin was well tanned and showed no sign of scars despite the life he led. His tawny hair was tousled at the moment and if anything it added to his appeal. She wrenched her eyes away hoping he hadn’t noticed and found Sovann watching her with amusement. She blushed and thanked every god she could think of when Finn left the room without noticing.

“All women look at him like that. Don’t trouble yourself over it,” Sovann said quietly.

“It’s not like that,” she objected. Her words sounded pathetic even to her ears. With Shade, it was simple; she had never allowed herself to feel true attraction to Shade. He was a High Lord’s son and so far out of her grasp, the notion of him as anything more than a friend was laughable. She had, of course, felt attraction to Shade. One would have to be blind and deaf not to, but she had pushed it aside.

Finn, however, was not so far above her, and he had always been so nice to her. And he is so nice to look upon. Her blush returned with the thought and she forced herself to consider him with logic, reminding herself that he was a womanizer. He has no interest in women beyond entertainment. He has admitted that many times.

“So quiet and still blushing, of course it’s not like that,” Sovann said dryly. “You can have my room to rest. I’ll show you to it,” he added with amusement in his voice.

“I don’t want to take your room,” she objected.

“Nonsense,” he said with a smile and motioned her to follow as he stood.

“We will get some sleep on the couch, Sovann. Go ahead and go to bed,” Finn said as he entered the room and tossed a couple of blankets down on the couch.

“We?” She asked at the same time as Sovann, their voices echoing the question perfectly.

He looked between the two of them and chuckled lightly. “Jala and I, Sovann. I’m afraid you aren’t included in that ‘We,’” he clarified, ignoring Jala’s look of shock completely. She watched him spread the blankets across the couch, still ignoring the looks both she and Sovann gave him. Marrow made that curious growling sound that reminded her of laughter. She looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, and the Bendazzi seemed almost to grin at her. She could feel his amusement at her discomfort, and frowned at him.

“Finn,” Sovann started to object.

“Goodnight, Sovann, or good morning, rather. Turn out the lamp on your way out, please,” Finn said, cutting him off. He dropped lightly back onto the couch and lay back against the arm of it. When Jala didn’t move from where she was seated, he let out a heavy sigh and sat up again. Her eyes widened as he lifted her fully from where she sat as if she were a doll and sat her back down in the middle of the couch. “You really aren’t much help here,” he complained mildly as he turned her legs to face the same direction as his own, neatly trapping her between him and the back of the couch. “Good night, Sovann,” he repeated again before pulling the blanket over himself and lying back down.

She sat there frozen and watched Sovann shrug and turn off the small magical lamp lighting the room. Obviously he found it to be a moot point to argue with his older brother. He left the room and closed the door behind him in complete silence. Jala remained frozen in the darkness, unsure how to take this odd turn of events. She stole a glance at Finn who was lying on his side, eyes closed, looking quite peaceful. She shifted her weight slightly, and his eyes flicked open.

“Have I ever given you reason not to trust me, Jala?” he asked quietly.

She gave a slight shake of her head. “No, you haven’t, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just...” She paused, unsure what she wanted to say. I’m afraid of being too close to you, of getting hurt, she thought, but kept the words to herself. Finn had done so much for her that the thought seemed unfair.

“Just what?” He asked after a moment’s silence.

“Unsure. I’ve never slept by anyone. I’m not used to being close to anyone,” she explained, not sure that was the best answer for her current situation, but maybe it would do.

He gave her a smile that she seemed to feel more than see. “You think too much, Jala, and I’m too tired to think,” he said with a sigh and tugged her down beside him, covering her with the blanket as he did. “Easier for me to watch out for you if I know exactly where you are,” he said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

His arm moved to rest across her waist, and she stiffened for just a moment. He made a sleepy sound of amusement but did not open his eyes. Hesitantly, she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. His skin was warm and soft and smelled faintly of soap and sweat. She closed her eyes finally and allowed herself to relax and simply enjoy feeling safe. It was a feeling she hadn’t even noticed she had missed, but now that it had returned, she realized it had been gone since before the fall of Merro, before she lost her family, and before her entire life was placed in other’s hands. Between Marrow and Finn, she didn’t think the gods themselves could reach her now. She smiled at the thought and drifted into sleep knowing there would be no nightmares tonight.

Chapter 16

Sanctuary

The night was cool for summer and the strong breeze cut through his cloak as if it were made of lace. Charm pushed back farther into the eaves of his rooftop perch and kept his eyes locked on the warehouse. Jala had entered hours ago after wandering through the streets barefoot. She hadn’t even noticed when he had quietly dispatched the two men that had been shadowing her. He wasn’t sure what had her so upset, and it was quite irritating. He had no way to see inside Shade’s hall any more than he could see inside Sovann’s warehouse. Both had wards upon them that would let the owner know when magic was used.

He could, of course, attempt to sneak inside the building, but had yet refrained from doing so. Lex would tell him tomorrow whatever had upset her, and as for Sovann’s warehouse, she was most likely just seeking the comfort of a friend. Perhaps more than typical comfort, he added silently. He had watched Finn enter the building not long after her and the young man had a reputation with women. That would certainly explain why she had been in there so long and why the building was so dark.

A brief hint of movement from across the rooftops caught his eye and he noted the faint outline of a figure before it disappeared once more into the shadows. Isador was drinking with the Avanti tonight, and even if it had been her, she knew where to find him and would have come to him directly. He kept his eyes locked on the distant rooftop, his body tense and as still as a statue. He would not give himself away with any movement. Several minutes passed, before he found the figure. It was perched as he himself was, with a commanding view of the warehouse. Charm rose slowly, keeping his body shrouded in the deepest of the shadows. There were very few people that could hide that well and only two of them were in Sanctuary. With Isador occupied that left only Hemlock. He loosened his daggers in their sheaths to reassure himself they would come free easily when he needed them. With the grace of a hunting cat, he began his slow prowl toward the Assassin. His movements were slow and precise, and he moved with more care than he ever had before, but then a man of Hemlock’s caliber was not exactly easy prey.

“I don’t know who you are, but you are very talented,” Hemlock whispered as Charm approached. Silently, Charm cursed the man and stepped calmly from the shadows. There was no point in hiding since the Assassin knew he was there. He could, of course, have simply thrown his dagger and hoped Fortune would grant him enough luck to land a killing blow, but then he wouldn’t learn why Hemlock was here. The Assassin could simply be waiting for a convenient time to kill Jala, or there could be other reasons.

Hemlock studied him, his expression hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak. “How interesting, the farmer’s daughter has both Sovaesh brothers wrapped around her finger, despite how they dislike each other, and a Fionaveir guardian.” With a grace to equal his own, Hemlock stood and faced Charm directly. “And not just any guardian, but Charm himself.”

“Which should tell you that if you mean to kill the girl you will not have an easy time with it,” Charm replied. Hemlock was dangerous, there was no doubt of that, but he was far from scared of the man. In truth, if a reason came to kill the Assassin, Charm would hardly be upset by the death.

“I’m not sure I want to kill her yet.” Hemlock drawled the words and seemed to consider it a moment. “Maybe hear her scream a bit, perhaps, but not kill her. She is such a pretty little thing and so perfectly innocent from what I’ve heard. She would make a nice toy, I think.”

“Make any move at all to harm her and I will bury you,” Charm promised in a voice as chill as the night air.

“How gallant,” Hemlock breathed, his voice high and whimsical. “Can I decide what is put on my tombstone?” he asked, his tone mocking. “How about ‘He fucked my ward before I could kill him,’ what do you think Charm?”

“I think I’ll feed you to the serpents instead,” Charm countered. “And before you can so much as look on her face again,” he added.

“I’ve never actually heard of anyone being talked to death, Charm. Are you actually going to do something other than threaten?” Hemlock asked, sounding bored.

A wave of magic washed out from the warehouse, and Charm glanced that way, unsure of what was just cast. Hemlock was gone in that brief instant his eyes flickered. He dropped to a crouch, cursing himself for a fool. Frantically, he searched the rooftop, looking for the Assassin. He was more than a match for Hemlock, he knew, but only when he actually knew where the man was. As silent as he could be, he moved, changing his position and still searching the area, but there was no sign of the guild leader anywhere. He couldn’t abandon his post and leave Jala unprotected, but then he couldn’t remain here, either, without knowing where Hemlock was. I have a problem. He sent the words to Isador through a fragile mental link and continued to move away from the failed encounter.

What kind of problem? she asked, her voice barely a whisper in his mind.

With effort, he relayed the encounter to her and his current situation, while trying to keep as much of his focus on remaining hidden as he could. Can you leave what you are about? I may need to leave here, and I don’t want to leave her unguarded, he asked, hating to admit defeat in this, but accepting that he might have to.

“Already on my way, Charm. I excused myself when I heard the name Hemlock, she assured him, and let the mental link drop so he could focus everything on his current predicament.

He kept himself moving until he spotted her in the shadows of his normal perch. He had circled the warehouse four times now and his nerves were on edge. He was sure Hemlock was no longer in the area, but he couldn’t be positive. The man hadn’t stayed alive as long as he had without talent. He was too much of a bastard to survive without it. He crossed to where Isador waited and forced himself back to calm. Between the two of them, Hemlock didn’t stand a chance.

“Any sign of him?” she asked as he crouched down beside her.

“Not since I looked away from him like a fool,” Charm admitted bitterly.

“Any idea what spell was cast?” she asked.

“No, none at all, but there is a light on in there now. That must be a good sign. It has been dark for most of the night.”

Isador focused on the warehouse and he felt a very faint flux of magic from her. “There are three Immortal life patterns inside there, and…” she paused, and cocked her head in confusion, then looked at him. “And a Bendazzi,” she finished.

“A what?” he stammered. He knew he had heard her correctly but it made no sense whatsoever. Bendazzi were northern predators and never left the sheltered mountains and deep forests they had claimed as their own.

“A Bendazzi,” she repeated. “And before you ask, yes, I am sure. I don’t understand it any more than you do,” she added with a shrug.

“That makes no sense at all,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

“None at all, but I’m sure we will get answers in the morning. I’ll stay here with you tonight, and we will double our shift now that Hemlock has shown an interest.”

He nodded his agreement. “Find out anything interesting tonight?” he asked, his eyes still scanning the shadows with paranoia. He felt like a child after a ghost story.

“Cassia tried to order her brother to have Sovaesh kill Jala,” she said casually.

“How did that work out?” Charm asked with a sigh, wondering if he needed to be watching for Sovaesh, as well.

“Apparently Sovaesh convinced him it was a bad idea and to wait. Cassia was quite upset,” Isador answered with a smile. “She is convinced it is all Finn’s fault and was begging Lord Rivasa’s revolting son to duel him on the morrow when I left,” she finished.

“Did she actually think the boy would have a chance against Finn? From what I hear, if he could joust he would be the next Lutheron,” Charm said in disbelief.

“I’m not sure. I think she might have. She can be a bit unrealistic,” Isador shrugged.

He settled himself more and pressed his side against hers to share a bit of warmth. “We all can be, I suppose, but that involves another’s life. Do you think he will accept?” he asked.

She gave a nod in answer. “He thinks quite highly of himself and would go far out of his way to gain Cassia’s approval. Her father would have done better to betroth her to that fool. He caters to her more than Christian ever will.” With a sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the darkness warily. It looked as though they were going to have a long wait.

Hemlock watched the two Fionaveir for a time, amused by their paranoia. It was good to know he could still frighten others so easily. With a sigh, he left the district. He hated leaving such good entertainment behind, but then, he had things to do. He was a man of many responsibilities now and had made his decision on the girl. No doubt Shade would be grateful. Perhaps he would send a few of his lesser blades against her, but he himself wouldn’t act. With Charm and Isador watching over her, the lesser blades wouldn’t have a chance, of course. He could still collect the contract fees, half the fees anyway, which would more than cover the cost of the lives he meant to throw away. He would profit then, and girl would stay alive, while he would have entertainment watching it all. It was a rather good arrangement, he thought.

Content, he dropped down into an alley and crossed into the next district, making straight for the portal stone. This particular stone had a rune on it that would send the High Lords into fits if they knew of it. But, they would never know of it. Only a select few did, and they were quite good with secrets.

He brushed the rune as he approached, giving it just a trace of magic to activate it as he stepped through the arch, his pace never slowing. The dim glow of the city streets disappeared at once turning to the bright white light of Kali’s parlor.

“Good evening, Hemmy,” Kali called from across the room. She was without her customary covering tonight and her long white hair trailed loose behind her, nearly brushing the floor. Her skin was as pale as an albino with thick black stripes marking the arms and legs. The few that had ever had a chance to see such marks, thought them tattoos. Hemlock knew better, however. He knew Kali never altered herself.

He took another minute admiring the woman’s exotic beauty and the form-fitting black dress she wore and nodded. “Good evening to you, Kali. How goes your newest game?”

“All done. Care to see?” She asked needlessly. She of course knew that was exactly why he was there.

“As always, I eagerly wait to see your newest creation. Will it be better than the Bendazzi?” He asked. Her cat creatures had been truly impressive. When she had released them years ago, she had done so in such numbers the death toll was obscene before anyone had actually realized what was hunting them. Combine the numbers with the creature’s abilities and the hunters had not fared well at all. Even now the creatures still thrived in the most remote of the wilds. Few hunters cared to go after the beasts.

“Oh, it is so much better. Just wait, I have learned so much from my other creations and I’ve put everything into this one,” Kali purred with excitement. She motioned him to follow and led him quickly through winding halls and down into her basement. She did all of her work below ground and the wards on this part of her home were better than any High Lord could boast. They passed several holding cells with glass fronts that somewhat imitated a zoo, Hemlock mused. Most were empty now but a few held specimens. Hemlock paused his steps as he passed a cell holding a Genji, noting the creature’s hunched posture and oil black skin reflecting the light. The creature cowered.

“Aren’t your little goblins typically hive creatures?” He asked.

Kali glanced back toward the creature and slowed her own steps. “Yes, yes, but I needed that one for some samples. The Genji have remarkable resistances. Poison is wasted on them, and they are entirely immune to disease. Even the plague that hit Veir didn’t affect my little gobbies.” She motioned for him to follow again and set off once more at the brisk pace.

She led him into another room and closed the door behind them. She was fairly bouncing as she took him by the hand and led him to another cell. From what he could see, the room was entirely empty, with only a bed and chair inside, which he found curious. He glanced at her and found her watching him with an impish smile. There was of course the possibility that she was simply having a bit of fun at his expense, but that didn’t seem likely. He knew Kali too well, and that wasn’t her way.

“Looks empty, eh?” She grinned as she spoke. Leaning forward, she tapped on the glass lightly. “Show yourself to my guest, beautiful, and I’ll find you something tasty.”

The air directly on the other side of the glass seemed to shimmer slightly, and Hemlock found himself face to face with a man who was naked and appeared Elder Blood for the most part. It was little things that set him apart from the immortals, small details that were impossible to miss. The eyes to start with. They fairly glowed, even in the bright light, and had cat-like pupils. Hemlock broke from the creature’s gaze and looked to its hands. Each finger ended in a talon around two inches in length. And the feet were clawed as well, he noted. “Tell me of it, please,” he urged Kali, knowing she would be eager to share her latest work with someone.

“You have seen his talent for hiding. I improved on my Bendazzi’s camouflage and now it’s nearly impossible to find this one. He has no scent for trackers, none at all. He can see in pitch blackness and he moves with speed unlike anything else I have ever made.” She paused and motioned to the creature. With a last long look at Hemlock, the thing vanished again. He felt his skin prickle a bit knowing it was so close and likely watching him. “Those are not the best parts of my newest children, however,” she said at last and led him to a small table.

He sat when she motioned to a chair and remained silent, willing her to continue. What she had described so far would be dangerous enough. If there was more to this creation he would know it before he left here. She poured wine for the two of them and took a chair opposite him and smiled.

“Their first instinct is to mate with the most exceptional being they can find. I’m afraid the mating isn’t exactly a gentle process, and not many will enjoy it, but alas all things cannot be perfect. The reproduction cycle on them is short, far shorter than any would expect. Two months on most creatures and the babes grow quite quickly.” She paused and took a sip from her wine. He nodded for her to continue and she seemed quite pleased by his interest. “It is not a normal labor. The children tend to rip themselves right out of mommy. Whereupon, they of course have a ready food source from whatever is left of mommy. They will scan the mind, if the woman is still alive, and scan the minds of anything living in the area to glean all knowledge that they may need for their current environment. With the food they gain from the host mother, they grow very quickly. On average, from what I’ve seen, one meal will bring one of them to around five by our own standard of age.”

“Are there no females of this species?” he asked, glancing back at the cell. The implications of the species Kali would be releasing were devastating. The death toll from the Bendazzi would be laughable in comparison, and if these creatures grew as quickly as she said the prison would be overrun in a few short years. He considered that thought briefly, trying to decide if that would upset him.

Kali nodded in answer. “Oh, yes, of course there are, they are quite interesting, as well. I’ve watched a few of them, and it seems they know when a child is ready to rip free. They do not die from the birth. They tear themselves open and remove the child before it can do too much damage. With the regeneration I have given them, it leaves the mother wounded, but nothing she won’t recover from. It’s quite impressive actually.”

Hemlock nodded and took a drink of his own wine. “All in all, your most impressive work to date,” he said with a nod of respect.

“They have the Genji’s immunities to poison and disease, the Bendazzi’s resistance to magic, the serpent’s endurance and stamina, and the looks of the Elder Blooded. They can hide the claws and talons if they wish. With the proper clothes and manners, one of my children could walk openly down the streets of Sanctuary and no one would even realize death was amongst them,” Kali said with pride.

“Have you informed Lord Morcaillo of your success?” he asked. The thought amused him. He wondered if Mythandar had any idea what he had asked for.

“Indeed I have, I have already released some of them near Glis. Given the shifters that live in that area, I believe it will be several months before the locals realize it isn’t a rogue shifter killing them.” Kali leaned back in her chair with a long satisfied sigh. “I think this might be my last game, Hemmy, I think I’ve finally got it perfect.”

Hemlock nodded his head slowly. “They are certainly impressive, Kali. What do you call them?”

“Blights, they are my Blight children. No family tree will survive them,” she answered happily.

Chapter 17

Sanctuary

“Jala,” Sovann called softly from the doorway. She stirred slightly, lifting her head from Finn’s shoulder.

“I’m going to kill you, Sovann,” Finn grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Shade is on his way, Jala. He contacted me wanting me to help him find you. I told him you were here and safe. He is on his way here now,” Sovann said.

“Then I’m going to kill you and him and get more sleep, then kill Madren,” Finn growled and pulled the blanket up further.

“A day just chocked full of homicide, how nice. I’m sure Mother will be proud,” Sovann returned sarcastically.

“I’ll be up in a moment,” Jala said quietly and began to disentangle herself from the blankets and Finn. Finn gave another grumble, and she had to smother a laugh. “Fierce warrior, eh. Most dangerous when roused from sleep?” she teased.

He opened an eye and gave her a glower. She snickered and threw back the last of the blankets and sat up. With no warning whatsoever, he pulled her back down quickly and covered them both with the blankets again. She gave a light squeal of surprise and found herself tucked right back beside him, from where she had just escaped.

“I hate mornings and I hate sleeping alone,” he said quietly, his breath warm on her throat. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and shivered. “I was comfortable, and it’s still too early. Shade and Sovann can both rot.”

“I need to talk to Shade,” she objected and tried to squirm back out from under his arm. He twisted his arm slightly and shifted his position. She was now pressed against him, her back against his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist holding her firm. Her objections died in her throat. She felt her breath catch slightly and hoped Finn hadn’t noticed. With skilled fingers, he traced a path across her stomach.

“They can rot, and you don’t want to get up,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck as he spoke.

“They are both my friends and I don’t leave friends to rot,” she objected once more, her voice fainter barely a whisper. She felt her breath catch again and tried to push away. How wonderful it felt having him so close!

He remained silent but didn’t release his grip. She lay there for another long minute before she found the resolve to move again. When she tried to sit up he moved his arm. She glanced back at him as she threw off the blankets and stood. He was watching her with a look of irritation on his face.

“I would do the same for you, Finn. If you needed to speak with me, I would talk no matter what time it was,” she said, hoping her words would soothe him.

“I’ve never actually had a woman crawl from my arms to answer to another man. I think I’ve finally found something I hate more than mornings,” he said in reply and rose from the couch himself. “You are dangerous to the ego, Jala,” he added as he moved across the rooms and picked up his sword belt. With practiced ease, he buckled the blades on and left the room.

She looked back to where he had left his shirt and boots, and frantically sought for a reason he would need blades other than to kill Shade. Marrow rose from the floor beside the couch and gave a long stretch.

He regarded her a moment before she heard his voice in her mind. He is a predator and those swords are his claws. He will not go anywhere without them, calm yourself. It is doubtful he truly means to kill your friend. I sense annoyance in him, but no anger.

“I hope you are correct,” she said quietly and looked down at herself. It wasn’t exactly proper to greet Shade, dressed in a nightshirt, but her clothes from the night before were filthy. She could of course clean them with magic but waved the notion off. “Proper” really didn’t fit in her life any longer. It wasn’t proper to sleep on a couch beside someone like Finn. It wasn’t proper to wander the streets barefoot, or to drag friends halfway across the world in the middle of the night. Greeting Shade in a nightshirt seemed paltry in comparison. She left the room pulling her hair back into a somewhat tidy ponytail as she walked.

She found Shade and Sovann seated in the large open room where the Essence wine vats were. Sovann was pouring tea for the two of them as Shade watched the doors. His eyes landed on her the moment she stepped into the room, and she could see the concern on his face shift to disbelief as he noticed Marrow beside her. With a slight nod in greeting, she crossed the room and took a seat at the table. Sovann gave her a smile and poured a third cup. She returned the smile, and glanced around the room. There was no sign of Finn.

Marrow gave her a gentle nudge and paced off toward the door. I will return shortly, I don’t think your friend wants me to soil his home.

She gave a slight nod in answer and prayed silently to Fortune he wouldn’t be seen outside or eat anyone.

“When I returned home, Lex told me what Madren did,” Shade began. He was having obvious difficulty taking his eyes from the retreating Bendazzi but forced himself to look to her, eyes full of questions. She met his gaze and nodded for him to continue. “I spoke with him about it this morning, about all of it. I’m not really sure an apology will cover how much he has tormented you, but I can give you my promise it won’t happen again,” Shade assured her.

“She already has that promise from me,” Finn cut in as he entered the room. “I plan to kill the little bastard to ensure it doesn’t.” He carried a tray on one arm as he approached and sat a small plate down in front of her before leaning against the table. She glanced down and found bacon and eggs as well as sliced bread arranged neatly before her. She looked back up at Finn and wondered how he had found the time to cook food between leaving the couch and now.

“Thank you, Finn, and no Shade, he isn’t going to kill Madren,” she said with a sigh.

Shade was watching Finn. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held loathing. “Madren lives under Morcaillo protection,” he pointed out.

Finn gave a wordless shrug, as if that was not a particular concern of his. “Jala was supposed to, as well, and your little bastard tried to feed her enough Nesra to intoxicate a dragon,” he returned.

Jala looked between the two of them and then to Sovann for help. Sovann gave her a slight shake of the head and rolled his eyes.

“He explained that to me, Jala, and he didn’t know what he added to the chocolates. He bought what he thought was a love potion from an apothecary and added it to the chocolate,” Shade explained.

“And that’s better, how?” Finn demanded, cutting Shade off before he could say more.

Jala gave a sigh, lifted the tea to her lips, and blew on it softly, before taking a small sip, as she wondered exactly how she was going to diffuse this situation. Sovann apparently thought it would sort itself out, but she wasn’t sure.

“I didn’t say it was better, I was explaining why there was Nesra powder in them. It won’t happen again, and I won’t allow you to kill him,” Shade snapped back.

“Even if I don’t kill him, it won’t happen again. Jala won’t be around him to give it a chance to happen.” Finn growled back.

Shade snapped his head around to look at her. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged and looked to Finn. “Where will I be?” she asked mildly.

“In my hall.” Finn answered her calmly, as if the matter was already settled.

“I will be?” She paused. “Do I get any say in this?” She asked.

“I told you I would need to look after you. It was as good as settled then.” Finn replied.

“She is perfectly safe in my hall.” Shade objected.

Finn regarded him doubtfully and looked back to Jala. Shade turned his attention to her, as well, and she sat for a moment while they both stared at her. Frowning, she sat her teacup down and cleared her throat. “I will not be returning to your hall Shade. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. You have done so much for me, and I count you as a true friend, but I do not wish to be around Madren. There is also the matter of your betrothed finding my presence there quite vexing. While our relationship is purely innocent friendship, she doesn’t seem to view it that way,” she said calmly.

Finn gave Shade a triumphant smirk and lit a cigarette stepping back from the table. “And there we have it,” he said.

She glanced at Finn and sighed. “I will not, however, be staying in Finn’s halls either.” She began and watched the smirk fade from his face. “I am a disciple of luck and I have been acting against my faith. Life is a gamble and I’m cowering. I will move into my own rooms and trust my luck to keep me safe,” she finished.

Both men looked at her in disbelief, and, for once, they seemed to share the same view. “Jala, you can’t, you are already in danger,” Shade began.

“I agree with the Lordling, this is not a good plan,” Finn added.

“I agree with Jala.” Sovann said, his voice joining the conversation at last. He shifted slightly as all three of them looked at him. “She has a Bendazzi at her side. He will warn her if trouble comes so she will not be caught unaware. She is mastering her magics well, and in a short time will be formidable. There is no reason why she can’t stay by herself if she wishes to, which she apparently does,” he explained and gave Jala a nod of encouragement.

“And there we have it,” Jala said with a smile. Finn frowned at her echoing of his own words but remained silent, his jaw set in disapproval.

“I still don’t like it, but I suppose I have no choice but to accept it.” Shade relented with a frown. “I really think you would be safer with me, but if that is so horribly unbearable, stay with Finn at least. While I don’t like the thought, at least you would be reasonably safe.” His expression at the last showed how distasteful he found the thought.

Jala gave him a smile. “It’s not a horrible thought, Shade; it’s just not what I want. Madren is your friend, and I respect that. Cassia is your betrothed, and I pity you for that. Things are best this way,” she said gently.

“And your reason for refusing my hall?” Finn asked, his tone indignant.

She looked at him in amusement. “Mainly because you assumed I would. I’m being petty,” she admitted. With a smile, she took another sip of tea and watched Sovann try to smother a laugh.

Finn gave her a nod and held his hands out in surrender. “Of course, petty is a much better path than wisdom,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

She shrugged at him, lifting a piece of bacon from the plate. With a smile, she offered it to Marrow under the table. From their reactions, she noticed none of the men had even realized the Bendazzi had returned. Her smile widened as she picked up her toast and took a bite.

“See, she will be perfectly safe,” Sovann said with a smirk.

It’s going to take more than that pathetic piece of meat to fill me, Marrow complained to her.

I’ll get you more once we are done here, she reassured him. “Sovann if I wanted to know who I truly am, how would I go about it?” she asked.

Shade looked at her with confusion. “How can you not know who you truly are?” he asked.

“Are you sure you want to discuss this with him here?” Finn objected.

Sovann ignored the two of them. “A time mage, perhaps, though they are few and far between. Most choose not to specialize in that particular field. It is rather risky. The only one I actually know of in Sanctuary is Hemlock.”

“No.” Finn and Shade objected in unison and looked at each other in annoyance.

Jala nodded slowly and followed Sovann’s example. “The leader of the NightBlades, right?” she asked.

Sovann nodded and looked toward the two other men. “I have to agree with them, though, it isn’t a wise course. He has a reputation of being rather…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the proper word.

“Cruel to women, abusive to those under his power, insane,” Finn offered, and Sovann nodded.

“Yes. All of that.” he agreed. “There is also the option of a life mage. With a small amount of your blood, they could read your entire family tree.” He took a sip of his tea and watched her reaction.

“Couldn’t they also use that blood to control or kill me?” she asked.

Sovann nodded again. “You have paid close attention to our lessons. Other than those two options… Mmm. We could try to find someone that might have known your parents,” he offered with a shrug.

She shook her head. “I’ve already spoken with those that might know. If they wanted me to know they would have told me.” She frowned at the available options, neither was a good one.

“There is the Oracle,” Shade offered.

Sovann looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oracle?” he asked, making the single word a question.

“Madren told me about her. She lives in the Tolanteer Forest,” Shade explained.

“The Witch’s Wood?” Finn asked, incredulous.

“Umm. What is the Tolanteer Forest?” Jala asked, completely lost in the current conversation. She didn’t remember reading about such a place in any of her books.

“It’s in Southern Goswin,” Sovann replied. “Goswin is the only nation on the planet that actually destroyed itself. They had a civil war and the country divided into Northern Goswin and Southern Goswin. An order of Mages ruled Southern Goswin while the High Lord retained power in the north. Over the course of the war, the Southern half of the country was cursed,” he finished

“Cursed? How?” Jala asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I’m not really sure of the semantics of it, though it’s doubtless recorded in the Great Library, but essentially the mages that ruled there are trapped in a sort of living death. They are bound to their land eternally, as guardians. Since the fall of Goswin, no settlement has ever successfully survived in the southern lands. Only those few villages that survived the war remain and most of the land has gone to pure wilderness,” Sovann explained and looked to Shade. “I’m not sure what Oracle you are speaking of, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Shade shrugged. “Madren is from Goswin, originally. He was here in Sanctuary during the war and was considered useless by his father, given that he is a half-blood bastard, so he was never recalled back to the fighting.”

“I’m sure his father considered him useless for other reasons as well,” Finn added dryly.

Shade gave him a quick glare and looked to Jala. “I can find out more from him and see if it’s an option. It seems a better choice to me than to trust Hemlock or a Life mage,” he offered.

“I would appreciate that,” she said with a smile.

“It’s the least I can do after the trouble he has caused you,” Shade replied and stood. “Now that we have this mostly sorted out, I do need to go. I will let you know when I find out something, Jala. Please let me know when you decide where you will be staying.”

She gave him a nod and watched him leave. Finn promptly sat in the vacated chair and glanced at his brother. “Oracle?” he asked with skepticism.

Sovann shrugged. “It might work, you never know.”

Jala ate her breakfast in silence and compared the three options. She had to agree with Shade. Out of the three options, some Oracle in a cursed forest seemed the best choice. She took a sip of tea to wash down the last of the meal and looked at Sovann. “I have a favor to ask of you, Sovann, though I know I have already asked a great deal of you.”

Sovann looked at her and smiled. “I will help you if I can, Jala. What is it you need?” he asked in his eternally patient voice.

“Your essence wine works off of stored magic, correct?” she asked, and he nodded. “I’d like to fill some stones for you. I don’t want coin for it. I simply want the, shall we say exercise. I don’t think I’m using enough magic daily to strengthen my reserves, and I’m not sure what else I can use that much power on. Would you mind?”

Finn gave a snort of laughter. “Would he mind? Do you have any idea how much he sells a bottle of that wine for?” he asked her. She shook her head in answer, and he gave another snort of laughter. “Take the gold from him, Jala, you could likely use it, and he has more than enough of it,” he urged.

If you don’t get me food soon I’m going to go hunting in the city. Whether it be rats or beggars, I will find meat. Marrow warned her.

She gave a sigh and smiled at Sovann. “I’ll still refuse the gold if you will part with meat for Marrow. He is threatening to eat beggars.”

Sovann gave a chuckle and rose. “I’ll fetch some at once. Please beg him to remain patient for just a couple more minutes,” he said as he left the room.

Finn watched his brother leave the room and looked across the table at her. “Are you spoiled, Jala?” he asked.

She frowned in confusion at the question and shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she answered hesitantly. “Why?”

“I am,” he replied. “Not by my parents of course, my father is not the spoiling sort. I have more or less spoiled myself. I have lived life as I want it and have grown used to getting my way,” he continued, and her confusion grew.

“And?” she asked, unsure where this was going.

“And your pettiness will not win over my being spoiled. It would be best if you relent. I will win this,” he explained.

“We shall see,” she replied with a frown.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “One question for you,” he said with an arrogant smile.

“What’s that?” she asked, somewhat suspicious. He appeared to be gloating, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Do you know where the housing department is at the Academy? You know all students are required to stay on campus, and if you do not have a High Lord’s hall to stay in, you must go to them for a room assignment.”

Her frown deepened and she shook her head. “No, but I’m sure Sovann can tell me if I ask,” she returned cautiously.

“Nonsense, I will show you. I know the man that runs it. We are on fairly good terms. I helped him out with a duel or two. Not much of a fighter that one, but he has an excellent memory for who has helped him.” Finn replied.

She gave a slight nod and sighed. “It would seem you are correct, and you will win,” she conceded after a moment.

He nodded his head the gloating smile still on his handsome face. “You will come to realize I always do. Be it with swords or words I always win.”

Chapter 18

Glis Border

The scent of blood was thick in the air and had the horses dancing with every step. Solace placed a hand on her mare’s neck as the animal snorted. They were still a quarter of a mile from the village and the air was thick with flies even here. Hawk rode beside her, his tan face creased in a frown. Caspian had suggested it was a Shifter causing the problems when he had sent them here, but she had her doubts.

She knew her people too well. They tended to follow the behavior of the animal they could turn into. A wolf Shifter would seek others of his kind and form a pack, while a cat Shifter would be a solitary hunter and tend to be a charming social person. There were several other types of Shifters, of course, but the cat and the wolf were the most predatory. It was, of course, possible that a pack of the wolves had broken faith and was responsible for the deaths on the borders. She didn’t think so, though. Her gut told her otherwise, and Solace had learned to listen to her instincts. They had kept her alive so far.

The forest around them was beginning to give way to cultivated lands, and the trees were growing sparse. Her view of the village was now clear with few obstructions. There were perhaps twenty buildings, mostly houses with an inn and a few barns. No one moved in the streets, not even chickens. Overhead, carrion birds wheeled, and she could hear their calls from in the town, as well.

“Fifteen or so houses, so at least thirty in population,” Hawk said, his voice quiet and calm. Hawk was as steady as one could ask for when it came to partners. He shifted in his saddle and pulled his horse to a stop. The mare danced lightly and turned her head, desperately wanting to be gone from this place. “Easy, love,” he murmured to the beast and quieted her with a hand. He turned his brown eyes to Solace and shook his head. “This is not the work of Shifters.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Solace agreed. She scanned the village and sniffed the air. “Dead three days, if I’m getting the scent right,” she said after a moment. “The blood has had time to spoil and dry, and I can smell rot in the air.” With a frown, she blew air from her nose in an unladylike snort. There were times she regretted having such fine-tuned senses, and now was one of them. She couldn’t get the scent of bad blood from her nose. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the smell, and Hawk handed her a small cloth dabbed with the faintest amount of lilac. She smiled and accepted it gratefully, knowing the only reason the ranger carried such a thing was for her. No self-respecting woodsmen would have perfume on them otherwise, for the scent was too easy to track.

“Shall we leave the horses here?” he asked, and she nodded in answer. He swung down easily and hobbled his own mount before turning back to her.

She had dismounted as well, but frowned at the hobbles. It was, of course, likely that whatever had killed the people in the village was long gone, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to tie her horse’s legs. In the event that they needed to flee, she would prefer not having to remove the straps before the beast could run.

Hawk noticed her look and shrugged. “If it comes down to it, I’ll cut the strap and make new hobbles,” he explained and waited for her to secure her own mount.

She gave a slight nod and with his theory used her own hobbles. As shaken as the horses were now, it was possible they would break a tether and bolt if anything spooked them further. She gave the mare a final pat on the neck and followed Hawk into the village. He scanned the ground as he walked, searching for any tracks that might give them an indication of what had performed the massacre.

“Did we get any reports from the locals on what they know about this?” Hawk asked as he frowned at the ground.

“It’s a remote village; no close towns to speak of. Most of these people were trappers and such, the sort that don’t need or care for cities. It was a hunter that got word to us about this. Other than that report, we have nothing and he was here at least a day after the deaths,” Solace answered. She was having little luck finding any tracks in the dusty road. So far the only marks she could see were human and horse, and from what the hunter had described of the bodies this was not a human attack. They found the first body not far from the edge of the village. From the looks of it, the man, if it was a man (Solace was not exactly sure on that), had been trying to flee. The body was mangled almost beyond telling it was human. Hawk knelt near it and searched the ground for tracks.

“Birds have been at it, but scavengers haven’t done all of this. Whatever killed him ate part of him.” His voice trailed off as he spotted something. Leaning forward a bit, he frowned. “Solace, have a look at this,” he said quietly, his voice sounding unsure.

Solace looked back down at him; her eyes had been searching farther into the village. There were bodies strewn everywhere, some lying halfway out of houses. She moved to his side and crouched beside him. He pointed a finger at a track near the man’s side. “Is that a child’s track?” she asked, confused.

“Not one I’ve seen before. It has claw marks,” he replied.

She studied the track closer. It appeared at first glance to be the barefoot mark of a small child, until you looked closer and noticed the indention of claws that Hawk was pointing out to her. “What sort of child has claws? Shifters don’t, unless they are in their animal forms. Maybe demon blooded?” she said hazarding a guess. While those with demon blood were often more bloodthirsty, they were rarely this savage.

“It’s not the claws that bother me so much as the track has no blood in it. The ground around it is soaked. That footprint is mostly bare. The child stood here as this man died, or killed him itself,” he said leaning back on his heels and looking to her.

Solace frowned and stood slowly. “Let’s have a look at the rest of them and see if we can find more signs,” she suggested. With a last look down at the track, she moved off toward one of the closer houses. She could see legs protruding from the doorway in a tangle, what remained of legs anyway. Most of the skin and meat was gone. “What the hell are we seeing here, Hawk?” she asked in disgust, as they approached the still form and a thick cloud of buzzing flies.

Hawk seemed to consider the question for a moment. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say Kali has been working again. This doesn’t fit the patterns of anything we’ve seen before.”

“I will never understand why that woman lives as she does. Consider what good she could do if she only tried,” Solace sighed, disgust deep in her voice.

“Everything acts in its own nature, Solace. She is creating population control for us,” he said, stepping over the body and into the house.

“You condone it?” she asked in disbelief, following him inside. The smell was nearly choking in here. The smell of rotting bodies mixed with rotting food. Plates of dinner sat on the table undisturbed and long spoiled. She moved closer and idly moved a fork beside one of the plates. All of the settings were still in place. They had been killed just before dinner and apparently hadn’t even realized they were in any danger. She counted three bodies in the room - a woman, a man, and a small child. A new family then, young parents most likely, and in their first house. She looked around the small dwelling and noticed that it was better than most she had seen. “These two would have had a bright future together, if not for this,” she sighed, and looked to Hawk. He was intent on the bloodstained floor and held the same frown on his face. “What is it?” she asked, moving closer.

“More clawed tracks. These are adult,” he answered her and stood. He looked around the house, eyes lingering on certain details. “Door hasn’t been broken, and there’s no sign of forced entry. Either it came through one of the windows or they let it in.”

“I can’t imagine them letting it in,” she said doubtfully.

Hawk shook his head in agreement. “Not intentionally at least. Whatever it is we are looking for, it’s human in form. It seems to disdain clothing too. If the tracks are any indication, all that I’ve found so far have been barefoot. Though I would say it would be difficult to find boots to accommodate clawed feet.” He swept his gaze around the room once more as she stepped from the house.

After a moment, he followed her out and they made a thorough round of the village. In total, there were forty-two bodies as well as dead livestock. Hawk let out a long sigh and chewed on his lower lip. Solace watched him. It was one of the few signs Hawk had when he was very upset. The normally calm ranger wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts, and to see him chew his lip meant things were bad, although she didn’t need to watch him to know that. They had found few tracks and fewer hints otherwise to tell them what they hunted.

“The way I see it, we have two choices here,” he said at last.

She nodded having reached the same conclusion. “We either turn back into Glis and warn House Blackwolf of what we have found, or we head farther into Gaelyn and try to find these creatures before they kill more,” she said.

Hawk gave a quick nod. “Exactly, so what is your preference?” His gaze had already moved to the cultivated fields to the south of them. Glis itself was a wilderness and the Shifters preferred hunting over farming. Gaelyn, however, was heavily populated with many villages and farms, and no High Lord to protect them.

“South into Gaelyn. Let’s stop these things before they kill more,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Let’s do what we can for the dead here first, though. I think it will be easiest if we drag the bodies into that big barn over there, we can burn it, and at least give them somewhat of a pyre.”

Hawk nodded agreement and moved off to gather the first of the bodies. Solace let out a long sigh and moved to help. It would be bloody disgusting work, but it was the least she could do for the dead.

She was bone tired by the time they rode out from the village, but neither of them had wanted to camp there. The horses stepped lively, eager to be away from the blood. Solace glanced back over her shoulder and watched the thick black smoke filling the sky. She let out a long breath and sat straight in her saddle. With a slight increase of pressure on the mare’s sides, she moved up beside Hawk. He looked over at her as she slowed her mare to match his pace. His tanned face was streaked with soot and dirt, and he looked as tired as she felt. With a weak smile, he took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment.

She brushed a hand back through her hair, grumbling slightly as the brown curls tangled around her fingers, and settled for just pushing it back for the moment. She let her eyes travel the landscape before answering, not sure exactly how she wanted to phrase her words.

Hawk raised an eyebrow at her and offered her a leather tie for her hair. He remained silent. He would, until she answered, she knew. Even if she didn’t give a reply until tomorrow, he would wait. He had patience like no other. She took the tie and bound her hair back sloppily. At the moment, she really didn’t care what she looked like. She just wanted it out of her face.

“I’m worried. I suppose that is about the only way I can put it. Those men back there were rangers and trappers and were simple farmers. They knew the dangers of where they lived and they were still caught unaware. I just don’t want to lose you,” she said at last, her eyes still locked on the distant fields.

“We are a bit more than common trackers,” he pointed out quietly.

“I couldn’t get a scent off those tracks, Hawk. Nothing. All that I could pick up was blood, I don’t know if I’ll ever get the scent of blood out of my nose.” She looked back at him as she spoke.

He gave her a halfhearted smile. “But they left tracks, and that’s enough,” he said.

“They left tracks near their victims; they didn’t leave any leaving the village. We are riding blind right now, hoping we have guessed which way they are heading. We don’t even know how many there are.” she protested.

“Four, I think, and the direction we are going is the right one; I can feel it,” Hawk replied.

“How do you know?” she pushed.

Hawk gave a rueful chuckle and smiled at her. “Because every instinct I have tells me to ride the other way,” he answered with a shrug.

“Well I’m not worried anymore,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Now I’m scared, and that’s not something I’m used to.”

He took her hand again, cupping it in his larger callused one. With a smile, he raised it to his lips and kissed it lightly. “If you are scared, imagine how these people must feel, knowing what waits in the dark for them. We will find it, and stop it. We are Fionaveir. We are their shield.”

Solace closed her eyes and clutched his hand. Her instincts told her to turn around, as well. She had learned long ago to listen to those instincts. They had kept her alive this long. With a nod, she pushed her mare forward and continued toward Briarford. The village wasn’t a large one, perhaps sixty people, and mostly farmers. It was as far as they had guessed from the map, the next likely place for a massacre.

Chapter 19

Sanctuary

“You are gloating,” Jala pointed out with a frown. Finn gave her an innocent look and smiled. He carried the smaller of her two trunks balanced easily on one shoulder while the other bobbed gently behind her, carried by magic.

“Me?” he asked in mock disbelief. “I never gloat. That would be unseemly.”

“Of course not,” she agreed dryly. “Exactly how far into the maze is your hall?”

“It’s not exactly my hall, per se. It’s more of a common hall for first circle with no house affiliations,” he clarified. “And it’s not much farther. They keep us in the back where we won’t start too much trouble.”

“Does that work?” she asked.

He considered the question and shook his head. “No, not at all. There are certainly a few of us who know how to behave. Those that I’m friends with, not at all,” he answered with an unapologetic shrug.

They rounded another corner and he turned to head up a set of wide stairs. This part of the building looked older than what she had been staying in, but it had a certain charm to it. Most of the old stone had been covered with ivy, and small blue flowers lined the ground on either side of the stairs. The dark wood door had a sigil on it that seemed much more recent than the door itself. “Is that the mark for the arena?” she asked as she stepped up behind him.

Finn flashed her a grin and nodded. “You will meet the others. We decided it was the best way to mark where we lived, considering.”

“Considering what?” she asked, following him through the doorway and into the dimly lit corridor.

If he responded, she didn’t hear it. No sooner had the door closed, than a loud squeal came from a nearby room. Jala froze, unsure of what to expect. A door was flung open with a bang and a half-dressed girl stumbled out, her auburn hair in complete disarray. She let out a giggle and fell back against a wall as a half-dressed man followed her out. He was barefoot, and wore only trousers which were halfway unlaced themselves, she noted with a blush. An empty bottle of wine was clutched in one hand, and he seemed to be swaying a bit. He half fell toward the girl, catching himself at the last moment with one hand against the wall. With another wild giggle, the girl wrapped both arms around the man’s waist and rose to kiss him.

Jala slowly looked from the drunken couple blocking the hall, to Finn, who was looking a bit sheepish and scratching the back of his neck. “Interesting entertainment for so early in the day,” she said coolly.

He gave her a smile and motioned toward the man. “Jala, this is Valor, a very good and apparently very drunk friend of mine,” he said, by way of introduction. With a frown, he leaned down slightly trying to get a better look at the girl and then shrugged. “I have no idea who she is, however, and it likely doesn’t matter.”

Valor broke away from the embrace at the sound of his name and stood upright still wavering somewhat. He was taller than Finn by a couple of inches and in about the same physical shape with a well-honed body. Aside from the fresh scratch marks lining his back, he appeared to be without scars, as well. He brushed a lock of silver hair from his eyes and squinted toward them. “Finn!” he called happily, once he had apparently recognized his friend. “Oh, that’s a nice one you have there. Wait, is that Shade’s kitten?” he asked in a voice thick with drink.

“My kitten now, Val, her name is Jala. How much have you drunk today?” Finn replied easily, and ignored the scathing look Jala was giving him.

“I’m not your kitten,” Jala hissed. He, of course, ignored her comment as much as he had her look and continued to regard his drunken friend.

Valor looked down at the empty bottle and gave it a slight shake. He frowned at the lack of wine and tossed the empty bottle back through the door they had stumbled out of. The girl had pushed off the wall and wrapped her arms around his waist, almost knocking both of them to the floor. “Not really sure, three, maybe, perhaps six,” Valor answered with a shrug.

“Between three and six? Well done, Valor, well done. Any chance you and your lady will clear the hall for us, so I can get Jala set up in a room and introduce her to the others?”

Valor gave a nod and another smile and waved to Jala. “I’m sure we will talk again, maybe I will even remember the conversation,” he said with a thick slur as he half-carried the girl back into his room.

“They aren’t all as fun loving as Valor,” Finn assured her and continued down the hall.

“He didn’t even notice Marrow,” Jala pointed out, glancing back at the Bendazzi standing close behind her.

Finn looked back at Marrow and gave a shrug. “Valor rarely notices such minor details as a man-eating predator when beautiful women are in the same vicinity.” He motioned to a door as they walked by. “That’s Neph’s room. He is about as good at magic as Sovann and closer to hand. I’ll introduce you to him later, so if you need help with spells you will know him.”

She looked at the door and frowned. There was a sigil carved into the wood and it wasn’t one she recognized. From the looks of it though it had been put there with a very dull knife. “What does that sigil mean?” she asked.

“Cursed, but it’s just a joke, pay it no mind,” Finn replied easily. He paused outside a door and sat a trunk down. With a slight grunt, he pushed on the door. It resisted for a moment and then opened with a sharp crack. Jala looked down at the splintered lock and then up to Finn in confusion. “You, get out. You have a new room assignment,” he called inside and took her key from her hand. With a casual toss, he threw the key at the inhabitant of the room.

She stared up at Finn in disbelief. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Getting you set up in a room,” he answered as if it were obvious. He glanced back through the doorway and frowned. “I’m not playing, so move your ass or I’ll move it,” he called in a louder voice. Abruptly, a younger man rushed past them from the room clutching the key and bundled clothes in his arm as he hurried down the hall.

“I’m sorry,” Jala called after him and smacked Finn. “You are such a bully,” she hissed.

Finn rubbed his arm and smiled. “And you are just now noticing this?” he asked. With a shake of his head, he lifted the trunk back onto his shoulder and moved into the room. For having just been vacated, the room was remarkably bare of possessions.

Jala looked around in surprise and then to Finn. “How did he gem everything so quickly?”

Finn shook his head. “That guy hadn’t been here long, maybe a week, and I warned him not to get too comfortable. I don’t like anyone in the room right next to mine,” he explained and sat her trunk down once again.

“Then why am I in the room next to yours?” she asked.

“Because you aren’t anyone, you are Jala. That’s different,” he answered and looked around the room sniffing lightly. “Does it smell a bit off in here to you?” he asked with a frown.

Jala watched him a moment longer and sniffed the air. “A little,” she agreed and worked a quick spell to clean the room. The magic washed over the walls and floor leaving it all polished. She grinned. “I remember spending hours doing that by hand at the Temple,” she sighed, and waved a hand at the bed, cleaning it, as well.

A rattle came from the door behind them, and Jala turned to see a dainty, dark-haired girl standing there. She was fiddling with the broken lock shaking it back and forth. She stood just over five feet and had the strong look of the Fae about her. She looked up then and met Jala’s gaze with a smile. Her features were so delicate and her frame so small, it looked as though a strong breeze could carry her away. Jala shifted slightly, self-consciously. She felt like an ox in comparison. The girl turned her bright green eyes to regard Finn and cleared her throat.

Finn glanced back and smirked. “Jala, may I present Wisp. Wisp, this is Jala.” He spoke the introduction with a formality that shocked her.

The girl curtsied and stood beaming a smile again. “Wisp is a nickname of, course. My real name is Amelia. Nice to meet you, Jala.” Wisp moved quickly across the room and gave Finn a quick hug. “Thank you so much for bringing another girl here,” she blurted as she broke the hug off.

Finn gave a light chuckle and nodded. “Wisp has been the only girl in this hall for just about two years. Well other than warmers, that is,” Finn explained.

“Warmers?” Jala asked.

“The bed warmers they drag home,” Wisp replied with a roll of her eyes. “But now you are here, and he is moving you into a room and the one right beside him. So you can’t be a warmer. You must be going to stay,” she said in a tirade of words, her voice sounding almost ecstatic.

Jala nodded and broke into a smile. She couldn’t help it. Wisp was bubbly, and it was apparently contagious. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”

“We are going to be the best of friends, I’m sure of it,” Wisp replied, fairly bouncing. “Do you want help unpacking?” she offered suddenly, her eyes landing on the trunks. She seemed to notice Marrow then and abruptly fell silent, green eyes going wide. “A Bendazzi,” she breathed in a voice barely a whisper.

Jala gave a slight nod and rested her hand on Marrow’s back. “His name is Marrow. He is my Familiar,” she explained.

Wisp’s jaw dropped and her delight was obvious. “Oh how perfectly marvelous,” she chirped and clapped her small hands together. “I want to be there when Cassia sees him.” She did bounce then and looked to Finn. “You. Out of here. Your work is done, and the heavy lifting is over. We will call you if we need furniture moved,” she ordered and pointed toward the door.

Finn raised an eyebrow and looked ready to protest, but Wisp gave him a solid push toward the door. “Out! Girl time. Go,” she repeated, making each word a command as she shoved him again. Still looking somewhat stunned, Finn left the room with a final glance. Wisp quickly closed the door, mumbling something as she did so. The wood on the door gave a slight creak, and the splintered part of the lock popped back into place. Happily, Wisp bolted the door and turned back to Jala.

“I’ve never actually seen anyone bully him. It’s always the other way around,” Jala said, trying to contain a laugh.

Wisp gave a delicate snort and waved in dismissal. “Finn is easy to bully. Just catch him when he isn’t angry and give him a shove. He is pretty much like Valor. Neither of them would consider raising a hand to a woman.” She gave another snort, this one filled with amusement. “Well, not in anger anyway. It’s actually rather difficult to find either of them without a woman in hand.” She looked around the room and nodded approvingly. “It doesn’t smell like old cheese in here, anymore. Not sure what it was about that last guy, but it did smell odd around him.” She pulled her dark hair up and with a quick twist tied it in a bun, then brushed her hands together as if getting ready for serious labor. With a light step, she moved to the first of the trunks and flung it open. Jala tried not to stare at the pointed ears, but Wisp seemed to notice anyway.

“My full name is Amelia Faydwer,” she explained.

“I thought all of the High Houses had their own halls?” Jala asked in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be in Faydwer’s hall?”

Wisp made a scoffing noise. “I’d rather be in the Hall of Champions. I’m a third born child, not an heir or anything, and it doesn’t really matter much where I stay,” she replied, as she began pulling dresses carefully from the trunk and placing them on the bed.

“Hall of Champions?” Jala asked as she moved to help unpack. She hadn’t ever officially unpacked the trunks, she realized as they moved the clothes out. In Shade’s hall, she had been content to live out of the trunks, removing clothes as they were needed.

Wisp paused and gave her a smile. “Finn is the Champion of Swords, Valor of Joust, me of Archery, Neph of Magic, and Jail of the Pits,” she explained. “You know, from the Spring Games. It’s not officially called the Hall of Champions or anything, just a nickname a few have given it,” she added.

Jala gave a snort of amusement. “I don’t see how I’m going to fit in here then.”

“Well, not everyone in this wing is a champion, and you will fit in fine,” Wisp assured her with a smile. “Now, tell me how you and Finn met and how you managed to get him to move you in? I want all the details, spare none.”

Jala gave her a smile and realized she had never actually had a female friend before. In the Temple, she had been surrounded by adults, and then Shade and Finn. Wisp would be the first girl though. She lifted another dress from the trunk and leaned back, folding it in her lap, and began telling Wisp exactly how they had met, and made sure to spare no details.

“So, on the second night, its Valor’s turn to cook, he can burn water so plan to go out to dinner that night. Most of us do. Finn cooks on third night, which usually consists of bread and cheese if you are lucky, and Neph leaves coins out for us to buy dinner on his night to cook.”

“Why do you have assigned cooking nights, then?” Jala laughed, interrupting Wisp as they walked down the hall.

Wisp smiled. “Because Jail is a very good cook when he isn’t in jail. That’s how he got his nickname, by the way. He makes it a habit of irritating the Justicars for sport. I am a good cook as well, so we keep the silly routine,” she explained. She stopped in front of Neph’s door and gave a hesitant knock. “Neph, are you awake?” she called softly, leaning close to the door.

Jala raised an eyebrow and looked toward the windows. It was still late afternoon outside, not even evening yet. “Rather odd hours for sleeping,” she mumbled quietly to Wisp.

“Neph is rather odd,” Wisp replied in a hushed voice.

“I’m up,” a voice called back, muffled by the door.

With a gentle push, Wisp opened the door and beckoned Jala to follow. The room beyond was pitch black without a single light burning. A faint glow rose from strange patterns on the walls in different colors. In one corner were blue whirls and just below that faint yellow lines that seemed to curve as if mimicking sun rays. Jala spent several minutes simply looking around the room at the patterns as Wisp explained who she was.

Neph himself did not look anything like a true mage, to her eyes. He was dressed in leather with bracers that bore spikes on each wrist. His pale hair, which was hard to tell if it was blond or silver, was shaved close around his head with the top forming little hedgehog-like spikes. He reclined in a padded leather chair with a book open on his lap. The boots he had propped up appeared to be hobnailed such as a soldier tended to wear. He was looking past her, she realized, his eyes locked on Marrow. The Bendazzi stepped the rest of the way into the room, gave it a cursory sniff, and sat down beside Jala.

“Beautiful human you have there,” Neph said to Marrow, ignoring Jala completely. Marrow gave a slight nod, as if in answering, and shrugged. “I don’t care much for full light. I’m more of a nocturnal creature, I suppose.”

Jala looked down at Marrow in shock. She had never known him to speak with anyone else. She hadn’t even been aware he could. She had thought their bond had made that possible. “You can hear him?” she asked at last, when it seemed he wasn’t planning to actually talk to her.

He gave her a somewhat annoyed look. “Of course I can. Welcome to the hall and all of that, if Finn has told you I give magic lessons, he lied. If you want to know something, ask Sovann,” Neph replied.

Wisp gave him a smack on the arm and narrowed her eyes at him. “She isn’t a warmer, Neph. Be nice or I’ll hurt you,” she warned.

Neph made a scoffing sound. “She is, and she won’t last. Finn doesn’t keep women.”

“I’m not his bed warmer. I’m not sleeping with him at all,” Jala objected, rather offended by his attitude.

Both Wisp and Neph looked shocked at that announcement. “I thought you just left that part out,” Wisp said quietly. “You mean you aren’t…” she began.

“No, we are just friends,” Jala said, cutting her off before she could finish.

“Well, this does change things,” Neph said in a lighter voice and leaned forward dropping his heavy boots to the floor. With a snap of his fingers, a mage light flickered to life on the table beside her and he seemed to be examining her closer. “Elder Blood, young, very pale aura. Ahh, a good girl are we?” he said, words staggered as if he were listing off the attributes of a new specimen.

“She does seem very nice, not snooty at all,” Wisp agreed. “I like her,” she added with a nod of her head and a smile.

“You would like a flea-infested mutt if it stumbled through the door,” Neph replied dryly.

Jala glared at him. “I think I will seek Sovann if I want lessons, so nice to meet you,” she said as she left the room. It seemed as though every hall had one. Though she thought Neph would be much easier to deal with than Madren. At least Neph didn’t seem to want her around.

She was halfway to her door when Finn’s door opened. He glanced at her expression and then back the way she had come and let out a sigh. “Neph being an ass?” he asked.

“He was,” she agreed in clipped tones.

“He will be until he gets used to you. He is Delveyan, and they are really not social. Kind of like the Firym, with a bad attitude,” he explained. He moved down the hall a bit toward her and leaned against the door frame. He was freshly showered and wearing fine clothes, she noted.

“About to go out?” she asked, plucking lightly at the collar of the black shirt he wore.

“About to ask you if you wanted to go get dinner. It’s Jail’s night to cook and he isn’t available,” he said. “I know a café not far that has an outdoor patio. We should be able to take Marrow there without too much trouble.”

“Give me a few minutes to change?” she asked, her temper cooled again. If it was just going to take time with Neph, she could understand that. She was more than willing to give him space and let him adjust to her presence.

“Take as long as you like, I’ll have a word with Neph while you do.” He pushed off the frame lightly and headed for Neph’s room. She watched him go for a moment and then went into her own room.

Why don’t you just admit you would like to warm his bed? Marrow asked her as he followed her in.

She froze in mid step and looked at the Bendazzi in shock. I would not, and I don’t know why you would say anything like that, she huffed and busied herself with choosing a dress. Marrow sat down behind her waiting patiently. She dressed quickly and resorted to using magic to tame her curls and on impulse used one of the jeweled hair nets. She studied herself in the mirror, pushing stray locks into place and adjusting the blue dress carefully. Satisfied, she moved to the table and dabbed on a bit of perfume trying to ignore the faint growling sound Marrow was making that sounded of laughter. “What?” She demanded at last.

He shook his massive head as if it were nothing. Just wondering why you work so hard to make yourself look perfect and add appealing scent if you aren’t trying to attract him.

She blinked at him and frowned. Maybe I’m trying to attract others, she sniffed in defiance.

Just what you need, another potential mate. Isn’t two chasing after you bad enough? Marrow asked, his deep voice thick with amusement.

I do not have potential mates, they are friends, she objected and shook her head. Shall we go, I’m rather hungry, and I’d rather get you some food before you start threatening beggars again.

Marrow gave a faint nod and followed her out the door. Finn must have been watching for her because he stepped from his doorway the moment she closed the door behind her. With a smile, he took her arm and led her from the hall. “Blue is a good color for you,” he said, stopping quickly and plucking one of the dainty flowers from beside the stair. Without missing a step, he tucked it in neatly behind her ear and led her off down the garden paths.

“I got word from Shade earlier, when we picked up my trunks,” she said.

“Mmph. Did he actually have anything worth saying?” Finn asked, his tone not holding much interest.

“He has more information on the Oracle, and we agreed to travel there on the first free day,” she replied.

He gave her a glance and a nod. “I’ll make sure I have nothing planned.”

“Only if you promise you will try to get along with Shade,” she warned.

He frowned and rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t hurt him,” he agreed with disgust.

“I didn’t say ‘don’t hurt him,’ I said ‘try to get along,’” she corrected stubbornly.

“That would be like asking Marrow to play tag with a lamb and not take a bite,” he argued. “You wouldn’t ask that of him, would you?”

“It’s not quite that drastic,” she objected.

Finn gave a snort of laughter and glanced at the Bendazzi. “I’m buying you whatever kind of meat you want for that,” he said with obvious amusement.

“For what?” Jala asked, unsure if she liked Marrow speaking with others or not.

“He offered to consider Shade a lamb,” Finn answered with another chuckle. “I’ll play nice as long as he does, Jala, you have my word,” he added, noticing her frown.

“I’ll hold you to that, Finn,” she warned.

“Hold me to whatever you like,” he replied with a roguish smile.

Chapter 20

Sanctuary

The café he had chosen for dinner sat between the Arena and the Greensquare, Sanctuary’s largest park. Finn led them to a table in the back, out of the main sight of the road, in an effort to avoid the continued stares at Marrow. It would seem the sight of a Bendazzi was enough to stop even the hurried bustle of Sanctuary. Their waitress, a soft spoken blond with a pretty face, did her best to ignore Marrow as she took the order, but Jala didn’t miss how quickly the woman retreated, nor did she miss the warm smile she had for Finn.

“Are there any waitresses in Sanctuary you haven’t bedded?” she asked conversationally. She leaned back in her chair and inhaled the fresh air as she watched the park behind him. Late summer had left everything bursting with life. The flowers were in full bloom, and the trees were a canopy of every color of green the mind could imagine. Occasionally she would see people in the park as they paused to stare openly at Marrow. With a disgusted snarl, the Bendazzi moved fully under the table.

Finn seemed to consider the question for a very long time, idly tapping his fork on the table as he did so. After a pause of at least three minutes, Jala sighed. “None in this quarter I don’t think, nor in the Avanti quarter, either. The rest, yes there are plenty of waitresses that are sorely neglected,” he replied with a smirk, apparently deciding her sigh had been a sign of impatience. It had, in fact, been more of a sigh of contentment. The day was beautiful, and the company was good. He gave the blond a wink as she sat down their drinks and a small plate of a fried food Jala didn’t recognize. Leaning forward a bit, he took a piece of the food and dipped it in a sauce before popping it into his mouth.

“What is that?” Jala asked. She had tried to determine the answer herself from the shape of the fried objects but was coming to no clear conclusions. There didn’t seem to be a uniform shape of the food, other than lumpy.

“Ondathi,” Finn answered after a quick swallow and took a drink from his ale. He selected another large piece from the plate and seemed to notice her lack of comprehension at his answer. “It’s a type of snake from the Scarlet Jungles. The sauce is a pepper blend,” he clarified, before dipping the second piece and continuing his meal.

Jala eyed the food skeptically and decided she could wait for the main course. With a frown, she realized Finn had ordered that as well and wondered what exactly he had gotten for them to eat. If it were another version of snake, there was a good possibility she could find a nearby street vendor.

“Just try it,” he urged with a smile.

“I prefer food that doesn’t crawl, thank you, though,” she declined with a slight shake of her head. He gave a slight nod and tossed a piece of the meat to Marrow. The Bendazzi showed no hesitation whatsoever and snapped the morsel out of the air before it had dropped more than two inches. She raised an eyebrow at Marrow then looked back to Finn. He gave her a shrug. “If you aren’t going to be adventurous, he might as well get your share.”

She barely noticed his words. Her eyes were following a small group of people that seemed to be heading their way. Their clothes had caught her eye as she turned back to Finn. They wore bright, vivid colors, making the flowers of the park seem pale in comparison. Of course, it was possible they simply wanted a table at the café, but the more she watched the more it seemed they were intent upon Finn. “Finn, which house has yellow and orange as their colors?” She asked in a low voice. Not all of them were dressed in yellow and orange, but the first three in the group were. Over her time in Sanctuary, she had come to realize most of the High Houses had very limited wardrobes, usually just in the colors of their house. She knew all of the sigils but the colors seemed to jumble in her mind. The only one she could say she knew for sure was Morcaillo’s blue and silver.

He swallowed and washed the Ondathi down with another drink of ale and glanced over his shoulder. “House Rivasa,” he answered in the same low tone. “And it would appear they want to have a word with me. How perfectly annoying.”

“So you finally decided to come out of hiding, did you?” the lead man snapped the moment he was within earshot of their table. He was thin, almost dainty in appearance, with dark hair, and skin so pale it seemed unhealthy to her eyes. His yellow silk shirt hung off him in graceful waves, the cuffs and collar both lined with lace while his pants were a bright orange. The gold belt he wore, hung heavy around his waist with twin blades hanging from the belt. The delicate basket weave hilts and narrow blades made them seem more accessory than weapon to Jala. She watched him as he stopped just out of reach of Finn and seemed to strike a pose. As she watched him, she wondered how often he had practiced the stance in his mirror. He stood with one hand propped elegantly on the hilt of the basket weave sword, the other pointing at Finn in accusation. His chin was up, his expression arrogant, and overall to Jala’s eyes, he looked the perfect fool.

Finn casually popped another piece of food into his mouth and regarded the newcomer with disinterest, not bothering to reply. His gaze flicked past him briefly and apparently not finding anything of interest went back to watching the brightly attired Rivasan.

A small crowd stood at the man’s back, at least six or so men that Jala didn’t recognize and one woman she did, Cassia Avanti. Cassia stepped forward, the silk of her red gown swishing gracefully as she moved. “You will regret the insult you dealt me, Finn Sovaesh,” she proclaimed in a high, clear voice, drawing attention from those on the street as well as the park, to her obvious satisfaction. Her pose, too, seemed rehearsed as she stood before Finn with a look of outrage on her perfect face. Her hair was, as always, flawless, and the glimmer of rubies rose from every point Jala could see.

Finn’s gaze traveled to Cassia briefly, and he smirked and gave a gentle shake of his head. “I highly doubt that, Cassia.” With almost a yawn, he lifted his ale mug and took another long slow drink, still watching the man.

“You have insulted the lady’s honor and then hid yourself,” the man proclaimed as if he had been given a cue for his lines. “I demand you answer for it.” With a flourish, he dropped a large white coin down onto the edge of the table closest to Finn and looked quite pleased with himself. The growing crowd gave a murmur at this, and a few pushed closer for a better look.

Jala glanced at the coin in confusion, and then back up to Finn who seemed rather amused. “It’s an Arena coin. He wants a duel,” Finn explained as he picked up the coin and turned it slowly over in his hand, examining it. “And it only has six marks cut in it,” he added as he set the coin back down. His gaze left the man and flicked to Jala. “Which, of course, means this idiot has only been in six duels since he came to Sanctuary.” He looked back at the young man who was quite obviously offended at being called an idiot, and looked ready to throw a fit. “Are you sure you want to get cut up for something as fleeting as Cassia’s honor?” Finn asked, the amusement still showing on his face. He glanced toward the crowd and gave a sigh as if realizing there could be only one answer. Jala had drawn the same conclusion. With this many witnesses to the drama, the only thing the Rivasan could do was to push the fight. Anything else would make him seem weak.

“How dare you!” Cassia gasped, her exclamation drawing excited murmurs from the spectators on the street. Cassia whirled on Finn in a swirl of crimson skirts. “My honor is the honor of House Avanti. How can you dare question it when your own father serves mine loyally?” she demanded. With a sniff of pure distaste, she moved to the Rivasan and clutched his arm as if in desperate need of his strength.

Jala watched the spectacle with a raised eyebrow. Cassia had missed her calling. Had she chosen to be a lady of the stage she would have sold out plays. The crowd around them was thick now, and Jala was grateful Marrow had chosen his hiding spot well. This little display hardly needed further excitement added to it, and she was content to remain a shadow here. It seemed a bit much to her all around, the idea of dueling over Finn calling Cassia a bitch. He might as well be punished for proclaiming the sky blue. She hid a smile at the thought. This hardly seemed the appropriate time for smiles, though she noticed Finn was smiling as if this were a wonderful joke. He didn’t look the least bit disturbed at the drama or of the crowd. Of course, he was likely used to crowds. Finn Sovaesh was quite popular in Sanctuary.

“You insulted my lady in defense of this peasant whore and dare to question her honor to my face?” Rivasa demanded, his tone rising in pitch to nearly a screech. He clutched the apparently wounded Cassia to his side and glared at Finn with a stare that could wilt flowers.

The amusement drained from Finn’s face and he casually knocked the white coin into the dirt at the man’s feet with a flick of his wrist. Still silent, he removed a black coin of the same size from his own pocket and dropped it on the table. “I don’t fight for blood. It will be a black coin or nothing. Pick it up or apologize to Jala. Your choice,” Finn said in a flat, cold voice.

Jala’s gaze was locked on the black coin. She didn’t know what the colors meant, but she could easily see the marks that ringed the coin’s edge. There was barely a free space left to notch on it. She glanced up from the coin, realizing the area had grown deathly silent. All eyes were locked on the young Rivasan lord to see if he would pick up the black coin. Finn’s eyes were locked on him as well. All warmth in the dark green depths had vanished. “What does the color of the coins mean, Finn?” Jala asked, barely above a whisper, not wanting to be the one to break the hushed silence, but sure it was important.

“White is to first blood. Black is to the death,” Finn answered, his gaze never wavering. “Are you going to pick it up, or apologize, Devron?” Finn asked.

Jala noticed the waitress returning with their food, but the woman froze at the sight of the confrontation and hurried back into the café. Jala watched her go, praying that she wouldn’t send for the Justicars, before looking back to Devron Rivasa.

Devron glanced down at Cassia and gave her a smile. “Your honor shall be restored, Milady,” he assured her and picked up the black coin. “Set your time and I will see you on the field,” he said to Finn, his voice filled with contempt.

“Now,” Finn answered simply, and stood. Jala quickly clambered to her feet as Finn tossed coins down on the table to pay for their uneaten meal, and stalked off toward the Arena.

“Now?” she asked quietly as she hurriedly caught up with him. The crowd must have noticed Marrow then from the exclamations and curses behind her. She glanced back to make sure that the Bendazzi was not having difficulty and placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Wait a moment, Finn.” Finn paused until Marrow was beside them and continued on, Jala keeping pace beside him. “Why now? And do you really only fight to the death?” she asked again, adding the last question as an afterthought.

“Usually only to the death, and now because he pissed me off,” Finn answered as he pushed open the lower arena doors with far more force than needed. The doors banged heavily against the stone walls of the tunnel. She flinched at the noise and hurried after him, his boots ringing with heavy echoes as he crossed to the Arena floor. “Valor will meet me here as my second,” he explained as he stopped abruptly at the end of the tunnel.

“You need a second?” Jala asked, unsure. Her eyes roved over the thick sand of the arena floor just beyond them, and her throat tightened a bit. The idea of Finn fighting to the death unsettled her.

“It’s a formality. He will serve as witness, though we will no doubt have a large enough crowd I won’t need that, and if I die he will see to my body,” he answered and leaned back against the wall.

“If you die?” she whispered, her voice catching slightly. “Is that likely?”

His gaze flickered to her and a hint of amusement returned. “No, it isn’t likely,” he answered in a level tone without hesitation. His posture was tense and she could see the muscles in his arms, rigid as if he would willingly do battle on the spot. There was no question that he was ready and willing for the fight.

“Why didn’t they follow us? Do you think he might change his mind?” she asked hopefully. The tunnel behind them was still empty with no sign of Devron or Cassia or the lackeys that had surrounded them.

“He will come in from the other side and is likely looking for an Arena Judge at the moment,” Finn explained.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this? Is he an enemy of yours? I’ve never even seen him before,” Jala spoke rapidly, for the sight of the sand beyond had her nerves on edge. The Spring Games had been one thing. A duel to the death, that she was apparently going to see up close, was quite another.

Finn raised an eyebrow and looked over at her with a questioning expression. “He called you a whore, Jala,” he pointed out.

“And you and I know I’m not. Is that really worth killing, or possibly dying over?” she asked in dismay.

He seemed to consider her for a moment as if he didn’t quite believe she was objecting. She met his gaze, eyes full of questioning, and he let out a brief snort of amusement. “I think so,” he answered simply with a glance back at the hall. He smiled a cold predatory smile that held none of the warmth she was so accustomed to seeing on his face. He fished his cigarette case from his pocket and calmly lit one. “And there is Valor, always so punctual,” he said as he exhaled slowly.

Footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind them, and she looked back quickly to see Valor making his way toward them. The young knight was dressed in fine white leather and silver chain mail, and wore an expression so serious she couldn’t believe he was the same drunkard from the hall. He looked at Finn critically and handed him over a pair of swords. Finn unbuckled his current set and handed them to Valor and buckled on the offered blades. Jala watched the exchange curiously, her eyes lingering on the hilts of Finn’s new blades. Each hilt was in the form of a beautiful naked woman holding a large opal in her upswept hands.

“Barllen laced blades, I use these when I’m dueling someone with questionable honor,” Finn explained. He pulled the blade a few inches from the scabbard and she noticed the black metal lining the edge of the blade. “If they try to use magic or magical swords my blades will absorb the spells.”

“Doesn’t it drain you to carry them?” She asked in dismay. Sovann had explained Barllen to her, and she had fervently hoped never to see the metal in her life time.

“Lead lined scabbards, bloody heavy but it contains the Barllen while I carry them on me, and when I’m fighting with them, I take care to touch only the hilts which have no Barllen in them,” he explained, and stepped out into the Arena.

Bright sunlight glinted off his tawny hair, making it seem burnished gold. With a shrug of his shoulders, he pulled the black silk shirt over his head and tossed it back into the tunnel by her feet. Without thinking, she picked it up and clutched it to her. It smelled of Finn, a faint spicy scent mixed with sweat. He moved like a cat toward the center of the ring. The deep sand of the arena floor did not hamper his grace in the least. She watched his bronze back as he moved, noting the muscles rippling just below the surface with every step, and wondered if perhaps the Academy was wrong. Perhaps the Bendazzi was not, in fact, the most dangerous predator. She could see Devron stepping out of the tunnel on the opposing wall. His garish clothes had been replaced with a chain mail hauberk and coif.

“Shouldn’t Finn have armor if Devron does?” she asked Valor softly.

Valor flicked a gaze down at her and smirked and shook his head. “Even with armor, Devron will be dead in less time than it took Finn to buckle on his swords.” He took her arm as he spoke and led her out behind Finn. “Finn only uses armor when he feels he is facing an equal, Devron can barely buckle on his swords.”

“He has six notches in his white coin,” she protested feebly, trying to keep up with Valor’s longer strides.

“I’m amazed he managed to find six men that he could actually beat,” Valor replied with a snort of amusement, and slowed his pace as he noticed her difficulty.

She stumbled slightly as the thick sand pulled at her sandals, but quickly recovered and tried to hide her blush. Cassia Avanti didn’t seem to be having difficulty at all, and seemed to glide across the arena floor, her expression filled with excitement. Jala set her teeth as she watched the other woman. With a slight shake of her head, she set her shoulders and continued in smaller, more dignified steps. She would be damned if she would let Cassia make her look like a clumsy ox. With Wisp, there was really no help. She couldn’t match the smaller Fae’s grace, but Cassia was entirely different. She could match Cassia in anything the woman cared to test her on.

Would you object over much if I eat the loser or perhaps the woman? We did miss dinner, Marrow asked her, and she found herself hoping he was joking.

No, for all you know, Finn might be the loser, she replied, a bit harsher than needed.

No, he won’t, the other is soft and scared. I can smell the fear on him. He looks tender. Sure you won’t reconsider? Marrow persisted.

She gave him a glare in response, and he returned the expression with the Bendazzi equivalent of a frown.

“So, what exactly did Devron do?” Valor asked quietly as they both watched the grim-looking judge approach. “From the looks of the crowd and Finn’s posture, I’d say it was bad.”

They were standing behind Finn now, perhaps five feet from the center of the Arena. Finn stood in a bit of a slouch, giving the impression he was relaxed, but she could see every muscle in his body was tense. Across from him stood Devron whose enameled chain mail gleamed in the bright sun. Behind him stood his lackeys in a semi-circle, trading jests with each other amid much snickering. Cassia stared back at Jala with a look of triumph in her blue eyes that sent chills down Jala’s spine. She had to force herself not to grab Finn and drag him from the arena. She doubted she actually could drag him, but if she hadn’t been concerned with rousing his anger toward her, she would have tried.

“He called me a whore. Do you suppose there is any way you could talk Finn out of this?” She looked up at the knight with a pleading expression. She knew she couldn’t drag Finn from here, but perhaps Valor could talk him into leaving the Arena. It was a chance she wouldn’t pass up if Valor would help.

He gave a sigh and moved forward to stand just behind Finn and leaned over to whisper in his ear. They seemed to confer with each other for the remainder of time it took the judge to take his position and then Valor fell back beside her again. He gave her a shrug when she looked questioningly at him.

“I asked him to let it slide and not push this. If he listens, is the question. Finn isn’t prone to listening to anyone and that’s why he doesn’t serve a High House.” Valor gave her another shrug and a hopeful smile.

The judge straightened and cleared his throat. He was a tall, forbidding figure in full grey plate complete with a bucket helm. His long black cloak billowed behind him, giving him a more dramatic pose. “Devron Rivasa, you come before us bearing the coin of death, have you no desire to solve this matter more peacefully?” he asked, his words echoing in his helm and ringing with tradition.

“This is not a matter to be settled with peace,” Devron replied smoothly, his dark eyes fixed on Finn with an almost hungry gaze.

The Judge gave a solemn nod and looked to Finn. “This man bears a Coin of Death with your mark, Finn Sovaesh, will you not seek a more peaceful answer?” he asked, facing Finn.

Finn cleared his throat and sighed. “I give you a final chance, Devron. Return my coin and apologize to Lady Jala and I will let you live,” he said in a tone of voice that suggested he was hoping he would be refused.

Devron made a disgusted sound. “Calling a whore a lady won’t make her one, Finn. Draw your steel and let’s be done with this. I have an engagement for cards that I would hate to be late for,” Devron replied. There were titters of laughter from his friends, and it seemed to bolster the Rivasan lord. He stood straight and drew his own steel. They were beautiful blades slender and elegant with delicate scrollwork tracing down both of them and they were far lighter than Finn’s own blades. He held them in a flourish before him as he impatiently waited for Finn to draw.

The Judge stepped back from the two men, and Jala thought she heard a faint sigh from the helm as the man took his place to witness the duel.

“After that little bit there, if Finn had backed down, I believe I would have killed him,” Valor whispered to her with a faint smile. “On the grounds of being an obnoxious prick.” He gave her a wink and returned his attention to the duel.

Finn was eyeing the slender blades with a smirk as he drew his own thick swords. They seemed cleavers in comparison, short wide blades with a slight curve to them. They were brutal and deadly rather than beautiful and delicate. He didn’t bother with the dance as he had with Lex. He didn’t even wait for Devron to move. With one quick spring, he came forward with both of his own blades hard against the slender silver swords and the arena resounded with an audible boom as bright light flashed from Devron’s shattered blades. Released magic, Jala realized. The Rivasan’s blades had been enchanted as Finn had predicted. Finn’s swords seemed to drink the light as they moved, absorbing the magic into themselves before it could harm anyone. His foot came up in a hard kick to Devron’s midsection, while the Rivasan was still stunned from the flash, and his now useless swords fell limply to the sand. With a slight grunt of effort, Finn plunged one sword deep in the young man’s chest straight through the chain mail as if it were cloth. With another brutal push forward, he rammed the second blade up under Devron’s chin with so much force Jala could hear the bones of his neck snapping as the blade drove through Devron’s throat and out the back of his skull. Devron seemed to wilt before her, his knees buckled and he tottered slightly, his body shuddering. Blood began to seep from his mouth and stained the bright fabric under his chain mail a dark crimson. Finn gave him a push, sending him sprawling on his back, dead before he hit the ground. With a savage grip, Finn pulled his swords from the corpse and whipped the blades in an arc, sending ribbons of blood across Cassia.

Cassia stepped back quickly with a gasp. Her face was a perfect picture of revulsion and dismay. Her eyes, however, didn’t seem to match those emotions. To Jala’s amazement she seemed happy. Jala shivered slightly, wondering what sort of person could find joy in death as she let her gaze drop to the still body lying only a few feet from her. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky, his face a mask of surprise. He looked so small there, like a boy playing dress up in his father’s armor. She had known of death before, with the loss of her parents, but she had never actually seen death before. Her parents had died suddenly, and no bodies had remained. It was as if they had just disappeared. The boy’s body wasn’t disappearing, however. She could hear Valor speaking but didn’t pay attention to the words. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the body or from the crimson stain spreading out below him. He had died because he had insulted her. His blood was covering the sand now for nothing more than a single word spoken.

She felt bile rise in her own throat and then Valor was pulling her back and turning her from the body. The judge was speaking, she realized, but his words seemed a buzzing. Her knees began to quiver slightly and she remembered Marrow’s request for a meal, the bile rose again and she forced it back down with panic. The last thing she wanted to do was vomit on Valor. Dark spots danced on her vision and she felt herself wobble again. A strong arm caught her, gripping her around her waist, a strong arm still covered in fresh blood. She tried to push away in revulsion and staggered, her vision going black.

“She’s just fainted, Finn, she will be fine,” It was Valor speaking, she thought. A cold cloth was across her forehead and she could feel soft sheets beneath her. Jala debated on moving and decided she didn’t feel like it when her stomach roiled again.

“I’ve never actually seen anyone faint before,” Finn said quietly, his voice filled with concern.

“I’ve never actually fainted before,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. She felt the bed give slightly as he sat down beside her. With a groan, she forced her eyelids open and looked up at him. He hadn’t bothered to replace his shirt, she noticed. He had, however, washed away the boy’s blood, and for that she was grateful. The room was dark, lit only with a single pale mage light. Valor sat in a chair beside the bed, and Finn was looking down at her, his green eyes filled with worry. “I’m okay, just a bit nauseous,” she said, trying to soothe him.

“I didn’t think. I should have sent you back to the Academy or waited on the duel. I’m sorry,” Finn said. With a gentle hand, he moved the cloth from her forehead and dipped it in a basin of water on the nightstand. Slowly she realized this was not her room, or her bed. The walls were a dark green and the sheets she was so tenderly wrapped in were black silk. She blinked a few times and raised her head to look around.

“My room,” Finn explained, noting her confusion.

She nodded slowly and let her head sink back onto the pillow. She should, of course, return to her own room, but she didn’t quite want to move yet. “Finn, next time someone calls me a name can we solve it another way, please?” she asked quietly.

“Would you prefer I simply punch them in the mouth?” he replied with a slight smile. “Dueling is legal; punching in the mouth can get me exiled.”

“I feel like I had a part in his death. I don’t like that feeling.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“His death was Cassia’s doing. She knew he would die. She didn’t look the least bit surprised when he fell. I was watching her,” Valor said with a sigh.

Finn glanced at him and frowned. “This isn’t the sort of mess I usually fall into,” Finn said, as he draped the cloth back across Jala’s forehead. “I still don’t see the point of it though. If I were from a High House this duel could have triggered a war, but my parents serve her house.”

“I’m sure we will know soon enough,” Valor replied. “Maybe she was testing you, to see how protective you are. I have to admit, I’m rather surprised at the answer to that particular question.”

“As am I,” Jala added, watching Finn for any reaction.

“That makes three of us,” Finn admitted ruefully. “You know my temper, Val, and while insults usually don’t trigger it, they did today.” He rubbed his face and let out a deep breath. “I wanted to strangle him at the café. It took much willpower not to.”

“Would you do it again?” Valor asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Finn answered without hesitation and then smiled. “But I would send Jala back to the Academy first,” he added.

“Well then, no use troubling ourselves over it if you have no regrets.” Valor gave a nod and patted Finn firmly on the back as he rose. “Live life with no regrets,” he said with a smile and headed toward the door. “I’ll be at the Gold Penny if you need me. I want to hear the gossip. I’ll save you a spot at the card table if you like,” he offered, pausing in the doorway.

“No thank you, another night perhaps. I’m going to stay in tonight. If you would send a runner with some food back, I’d appreciate it, though. You know my taste well enough to order something from wherever is convenient. Get enough for two and meat enough for the Bendazzi,” Finn said and tossed a money pouch to Valor. His friend caught it easily and gave them both a nod before closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine. You could have gone. I should probably get back to my own room anyway,” Jala protested.

“Had I wanted to go, I would have,” Finn replied before she could protest further.

“Is Marrow here?” she asked. She could feel his presence, but couldn’t tell if he was actually in the room or not.

Finn gave a slight nod. “Asleep by the bed. He made some grumbling about if he couldn’t eat he would sleep.” He had a thoughtful expression on his face and his gaze was locked on the wall.

She watched him for a few minutes, waiting for him to speak again, but he remained silent, as if he had forgotten she was even in the room. “Finn, are you OK?” she asked at last.

His gaze flicked back down to her and his eyes met hers and held them. “I’m no Empath, but I could feel how upset you were at the arena. Not see it, actually feel it. I felt your revulsion when I took you from Valor. Do I disgust you that much now?” He spoke quietly, his tone so soft it wasn’t even a whisper.

“It was the fresh blood on your arm and the death. I’ve never actually seen a man die before. Not like that,” she answered, her eyes still holding his. The mention of Devron brought the image back to her mind and she shuddered slightly.

“I don’t even notice it anymore, the blood or the death.” He broke her gaze then and stared down at the sheets, his finger tracing a line back and forth through the silk.

“How many have you killed?” she asked, afraid to know the answer but wanting it none the less.

“I’m on my second black coin, and each coin holds sixty marks. This one is nearly full. That’s only the third I’ve killed without payment though. I’m a duelist. I kill when my client demands death,” he answered. With a sigh, he leaned back, bracing his arm on the mattress and met her gaze again. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, seeming to consider his words before speaking. “I don’t live by anyone’s assistance, Jala. I pay for the Academy with my own coin, as well as for my own wardrobe and weapons. My parents serve Avanti and if I take their coin I live by their rules, which essentially means I serve Avanti, as well. My father is a good man serving a bad one. I serve no one but myself.” He stood slowly and crossed the room, pausing by a small table. Silently, he waved a bottle in her direction in offering, and when she shook her head poured himself a double. He took a long pull from the glass and walked back to the bed, bringing the bottle with him. “I suppose by Shade’s grey theory, I’m rather dark grey, perhaps black. I don’t really know. When I do die, I know I’ve a spot reserved for me among the demons of the Darklands, but that doesn’t bother me. I live by the sword, and kill when it’s required, without remorse. And I’m good at it. I’m not an Assassin, only by the fact that my victim has a choice of refusing the duel.”

“You fight honorably, Assassins don’t,” she objected quickly. At the mention of the Darklands, goose bumps rose on her arms. She didn’t want to picture Finn there, nor did she want to consider him dying for that matter.

He gave an amused snort and shrugged. “I fight by the rules that are not always honorable. I don’t stab in the back, if that’s what you mean. But today, that wasn’t honorable. Devron couldn’t have beaten me if Fortune himself had appeared to grant him luck.” He took another pull from the glass, draining the contents and turned to pour himself another. “I can stand Cassia’s little mess, and I can handle as many duels as they throw at me. What I can’t stand is the thought of my presence disgusting you.”

She pulled the cloth from her head and sat up slowly, pressing herself back against the headboard. Her stomach had settled now. With a raised eyebrow at him, she took the freshly filled cup from his hand and took a long pull, instantly regretting the action as the liquor burned its way down her throat. She managed to keep from gasping but couldn’t stop her eyes from watering. “What in the name of Fortune is that?” she demanded, the words she had planned on speaking forgotten.

He was trying hard not to laugh, and had to look away to gain his composure. “Firewater,” he answered, when he had mastered his expression again. “Firym pepper wine,” he added.

She gave him a dubious look and glared at the glass. “Do you eat or drink anything normal at all? Snakes with pepper sauce, and pepper wine. Do you have something particular against a good, honest grape?”

“I tend to prefer the unusual,” he answered with a smile and brushed a lock of curls back behind her ear. “A moment,” he said, holding a finger up to keep her still. She watched him cross to the table once more and retrieve another decanter and glass. He brought them back and poured a half glass before handing it over to her carefully. “Jimpa Brandy. You seemed to like it at Sovann’s,” he explained when he noticed her suspicious stare.

“We have school tomorrow,” she reminded him. They had already missed a day due to the trip to Merro. She paused and shook her head. Had that really only been a day ago? She rubbed her face and took a sip from the brandy. The rich flavor filled her mouth and she closed her eyes, enjoying the flavor and the memories they called up. “This has to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” she said with a sigh. She opened her eyes and found him watching her with a bemused expression. “The decanter is almost full, don’t you like it?” she asked, more to break his silence than anything else.

He glanced at the decanter and gave a slight chuckle. “It’s a new decanter, I bought it from my father a week or two ago, but now that you ask, no I don’t really care for it because it’s a bit too sweet for me. I kept the flask on me out of habit. Wisp is fond of the stuff, though she doesn’t drink it often.” He left the rest unsaid, though she could understand it without words. He had bought the decanter because she liked it, no matter that he had no idea she would be in his company enough to enjoy it.

She stayed silent just watching him, noticing how, in this light, his eyes seemed more black than green. How his hair looked gold in the sunlight but seemed a dark chestnut brown now. She watched his muscles move as he raised his glass and took another pull from the firewater, and noted how the glass left his lips looking so moist and so soft.

A loud knock sounded at the door and she jumped, the spell of the moment broken. Not even realizing she had been leaning forward she banged her head against the headboard and gave a muffled curse. Finn let out a curse of his own, not quite as muffled, and sat his glass down with a loud thump on the table. “What?” he called, his tone filled with annoyance.

“Don’t snap at me, Finn Sovaesh, there is a boy here with food for you,” Wisp’s voice called back.

With a sigh of exasperation, Finn rose and crossed the room. Leaning on the door frame, he opened the door just enough to accept the food. “Thank you, Wisp. I’m sorry I snapped,” he said and, once food was in hand, he closed the door before she had a chance to reply. “Feel good enough to eat?” he asked as he crossed the room again, dropping heavily down onto the foot of the bed and spreading the neatly wrapped parcels between them.

“Is it snake?” she asked, poking one of the wrapped bundles cautiously.

He gave a half-hearted shrug and smiled at Marrow’s head poking up over the side of the bed. “Meat of some kind I’m sure and from the looks of it, more than enough for the three of us.”

Chapter 21

Sanctuary

Charm paced across the path for the third time, his silent steps making no sign of his crossing. His arms were folded behind him as he listened for approaching steps. He didn’t really expect to hear Isador, but he would notice Lex from a good way off. The moon was well past the mark of midnight, and that meant both of his erstwhile companions were late. He frowned and turned to cross the path a fourth time. The area of the Academy he waited in was remote and mostly unused. The chance of someone stumbling across him at this hour was so remote he didn’t bother to keep himself hidden.

The day had been a very long one for him, beginning at dawn when Christian Morcaillo had arrived at the warehouse, and as of yet it was still not over. He stifled a yawn and turned for another crossing of the path. It hadn’t been hard to stay awake last night, knowing Hemlock had been lurking nearby. Now, however, in the relative safety of the Academy, he had to move to keep alert. He didn’t care much for the magic some Immortals used to keep themselves awake. The mind needed sleep to remain healthy or at least he believed so. A body could be pushed, but a mind, for the most part, was a far more delicate thing.

“Are you working on a new path?” Isador asked, her voice a whisper in the shadows.

He started slightly at the sound, more out of instinct than anything. He had known he wouldn’t hear her approach. “I believe I have it mostly done, by the time young Lex shows I’ll likely be finished,” he replied in a light jesting tone.

“Interesting day, wasn’t it?” she commented idly as if speaking of the weather and not of the death of Devron Rivasa. With a deep breath, she stepped from the shadows, her eyes half-mast. She let the breath out slowly and leaned back against the wall. She wore the same grey silks he was used to seeing her in, but her hair was up and styled, and faint breaths of perfume rose on the breeze.

“Any interesting gossip tonight?” he asked, assuming she had been at the bar previous to this appointment.

“Oh, the Gold Penny was fairly bursting tonight with interesting people,” she said in a wistful voice. “Valor Hai’dia, Amelia Faydwer, Jail Han’shy, not to mention Cassia Avanti and Christian Morcaillo. I must say the latter two make quite the beautiful couple, despite how they dislike each other. Their children will no doubt be beautiful if not mentally scarred from listening to Mommy and Daddy try to kill each other.” She paused and cocked her head.

Charm nodded, for he had heard the approaching steps, as well. Lex would be here shortly. “I assume the gossip on everyone’s lips was the duel?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I might have missed the best of the gossip. Marcel Rivasa was leaving the inn just as I arrived, and Cassia seemed to be in very high spirits when I joined her at her table.” She shrugged as if nothing could be done for it. That was true enough, though, Charm supposed, there really was nothing they could do about any of this. Neither of them had been in a position to stop the duel, without revealing themselves. Cassia had, of course, mentioned it the day before to Isador, but neither of them had expected such quick action.

“My apologies for my lateness, it’s been a rather hectic day,” Lex said softly as he took a place on the wall near Isador. He wore his customary leathers, as well as the heavy leather coat he favored, and Charm found himself wondering how the young man wasn’t smothering to death. It wasn’t exactly hot out tonight, but so much clothing on a summer night seemed a bit much.

“No bother, gave us a chance to chat a bit,” Isador replied with a casual wave of dismissal.

“So, what word have you received?” Charm asked. It was a bit rude to push the conversation so bluntly, but he was tired and had it not been for Lex’s requested conversation, he would have been asleep hours ago while Jala was safely tucked away with Finn and Marrow. With the addition of the Bendazzi, he had found himself wondering if she actually needed a babysitter anymore. The girl had obviously found her strength to be able to control such a creature.

“Symphony contacted me,” Lex began and gave them both a brief glance to ensure he had their full attention. “You are needed elsewhere, Charm, and you are to remain in Sanctuary with your ear to the ground, Isador. It is believed that Jala no longer needs constant guarding and times are getting rather troubled.”

“How so?” Isador prompted when he fell silent again.

“Hawk and Solace have gone missing in Gaelyn, and there have been quite a few deaths reported there on the border with Glis.” He turned his gaze to Charm. “You are to travel to Glis and meet Lutheron to investigate further.”

“Both Gaelyn and Glis are practically wilderness. Granted, Gaelyn has quite a few villages, it’s still rather rustic, I’m not exactly a ranger,” Charm protested. He could track well enough, but there were dozens of Fionaveir that could do it better. His strength lay in cities amongst crowds, not in the wilds.

“And I’m not exactly a council member. I pass on orders, not make them,” Lex pointed out. He turned to Isador then and gave a slight sigh. “You are to continue to gather any rumors that occur around Jala, but your main focus is to be on the troubles in Glis. If anyone seems to know too much, you are to take note of them and make an immediate report to me.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve slept,” Charm grumbled.

Lex gave a brief snort of amusement. “Suit yourself. Just so the both of you are aware. Jala will be leaving the city in four days. I received word from Shade on this. Apparently the two of them are taking a trip from Sanctuary, and he won’t tell anyone where they are going. I’ve already reported this to Symphony, and she didn’t seem bothered by the news, so don’t concern yourself with it, Isador.”

“No idea where they are going?” Isador asked with a frown.

“A suspicion, but nothing more. I overheard Shade questioning Madren about the Tolanteer Forest, but that’s about the best guess I have.

“The Tolanteer? Did they not receive the notice that it’s rather cursed, and the witches there tend to eat trespassers?” Charm asked in disbelief.

“Apparently not.” Lex gave a brief shrug. “Leah will be going with Shade. I can’t, for my duties keep me rather close to the Academy. Can’t exactly keep an ear for gossip from the middle of a forest.”

“You don’t sound too regretful,” Isador pointed out with a smirk.

Lex gave a dramatic sigh. “Alas, I won’t be able to traipse across bug-infested forests seeking out cannibalistic witches. How horrible for me. I suppose I shall just have to settle for manicured lawns and no tick bites in remote regions of my body.”

“Poor thing,” Isador comforted him with a gentle pat and an amused smile.

Charm grumbled quietly to himself at the boy’s words. What a delightful description of what he had to look forward to himself. Without the cannibalistic witches of course. He apparently had homicidal maniacs or some ravenous beast in their place. “Enjoy your manicured lawns, and thank you for relaying the message. I’m going to get some sleep now if you both would excuse me,” he said in a voice that was perhaps a bit too curt, though he was truly too tired to care if he had offended them.

Charm heard Isador give a slight chuckle as he left. “He is just contemplating where exactly ticks might care to bite him. Don’t be concerned with his snapping,” she said to Lex, her words barely audible as he climbed the building to the first available hiding spot where he could rest.

Charm gave a sigh and lay back against the tiles of the roof. With a practiced ease he rolled his cloak into a makeshift pillow and considered his current assignment. There had to be a reason they were sending him to Glis. All he had to do was figure out what exactly, it was that required his particular brand of skills. With luck, Lutheron would explain on the morrow, though he doubted it. Lutheron was not exactly the talkative sort. Most likely he would have to remain patient until the moment presented itself. That he could worry about tomorrow, however.

He woke to bright daylight and the heat of the tiled roof beneath him. With a groan, he sat up and rubbed his lower back. There was much to be said about the comforts a tiled roof had to offer. On a normal night, he would have put a pallet down. Last night he simply hadn’t cared. Today, however, his body was full of complaints. “What a perfectly wonderful way to start a perfectly wonderful day,” he sang lightly to himself, repeating a song he’d heard Faramir singing to her children long ago. Despite the cheerful words, his voice was grim and depressed to his own hearing.

He looked around at the Academy and the city spreading beyond its gates. The view from the Academy’s roof was a magnificent one, though he much preferred it at night. Not only was it cooler, the city was breathtaking at night with the mage lights winking throughout the districts. The various House colors made it seem a rainbow of civilization. Warm summer sun washed down over it now and everywhere he looked was bustling with activity. From the school paths below him to the distant central market, everyone apparently had something to do today. As did he. He sighed at the thought and gathered his cloak. Everything he needed was stored inside it. No excuses there to gather provisions. The multiple pockets of the cloak were enchanted and held everything from apples to wine skin.

“Oh how I will miss you, you poxy whore,” he sighed, speaking to the city itself. It was true that Sanctuary was one of the most dangerous places one could be, if you chose the wrong area of the city of course. But to Charm, a city-bred rogue, it was safety. No matter if Hemlock ruled here, or if starvation drove many to desperation in certain quarters, he knew he could melt away into the shadows here and know safety. The shadows of the wilderness were a much different story. Trees didn’t conceal the way alleys did, and the common theory “if you could hide in one shadow you could hide in any shadow,” was only true for those that actually held shadow magic. He did not. His skills at hiding were perfectly natural with no arcane involved, and most importantly, had been learned in a city.

With a last wistful look at Sanctuary, he pulled on his cloak and removed a ring from the depths of a pocket. He slid it onto his finger and brought the memory of Lutheron to mind. The ring was standard issue for field operatives, and in moments, he could see Lutheron standing in a grove of ancient trees, holding the reins of two horses. His expression did not look the least bit patient, and Charm found himself wondering how long the man had been waiting on him. He called on the ring’s magic once more and felt the tiled roofs and the safety of the city wash away from him in one silent wave of magic.

He stood blinking a few moments in the dappled shade of the forest and looked to Lutheron. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I slept later than I expected,” he said, as Lutheron silently handed him a set of reins. Charm regarded the horse with a critical eye. He wasn’t much of a horseman, but he knew a bit about the beasts, and this one seemed quite fine. Better than the standard Fionaveir horse, given that a fine horse attracts attention. There were exceptions of course, such as Victory’s horse, Avalanche, but the common man kept a common horse. This was a fine boned gelding with a coat the color of dawn mist. His muzzle and legs were a darker grey with fine dappling on his sides in the same color. His mane and tail hung thick and were brushed to a gloss without a single burr in them. The tack was exceptional, as well. Freshly oiled black leather with bright silver buckles. He looked to Lutheron’s mount which was a dark blood bay of the same quality. With a raised eyebrow, he glanced at Lutheron.

“The horses are courtesy of Lord Blackwolf. He wishes us the best of luck on our mission,” Lutheron replied quietly.

Charm looked back at his own mount with a smirk. The idea of the High Lord of Glis providing him with a horse was a rather amusing one. Previous to the barrier, the only thing Lord Blackwolf would have considered giving him was a noose, and he had done his best to avoid the man during their captivity inside the barrier. It all went back to some paltry matter involving a black pearl necklace or maybe a diamond ring, at this point of his career it all tended to blur together.

A faint rattle of leaves drew his attention to the edge of the grove, and he found himself eye to eye with a wolf the size of a pony. That, of course, was not unusual in Glis, but it was unsettling, especially considering the High Lord had a tendency to turn into such a creature himself. This beast, however, was a brown variety with hints of grey in its coat. The High Lord, much as his name implied, shifted to a very large black wolf; a very bad tempered black wolf, if Charm remembered correctly.

“One of our escorts, there are three of them, all wolves and all young,” Lutheron said as he mounted the bay. “Shall we go? I’d like to make it as far as Briarford by nightfall. That was the direction Solace was headed in her last report.”

Charm gave a quick nod and mounted the grey. The saddle was a comfortable one, padded in the seat, and the bags that hung behind them swung heavy with the promise of packed food. Perhaps he was judging Lord Blackwolf harshly he mused. there was a chance the man wasn’t quite as bad as he had seemed all those years before.

“Any idea what we will be facing?” Charm called ahead to Lutheron who had already guided his horse from the grove. The ancient trees were thick here and partially obscured him, prompting Charm to push his own mount into motion. Pine needles gave slightly with the occasional snap of a twig beneath the horse’s hooves, but other than that, the area was silent. Not even the hint of the typical birdsong hung in the area. Charm frowned and looked up to try and see if any birds were actually around. He wasn’t a woodsman by any means, but the forest seemed unnaturally quiet.

“Something capable of wiping out an entire village in one day and handling Solace and Hawk two very seasoned Fionaveir,” Lutheron called back. “You believe them dead then?” Charm asked, a bit shocked. He knew Solace and Hawk well. The couple worked better together than any team in the Fionaveir, and they were known to be talented too, so talented they were often relied on for the more difficult missions.

“If Caspian thought them alive he wouldn’t have sent me,” Lutheron replied. “He sent me to find whatever killed them and get make sure it dies.”

Charm wanted to ask why, exactly, Caspian had sent him with Lutheron, but judging by the coolness in the man’s voice, it wasn’t the time to ask. So, they were here for killing that seemed simple enough. With luck, they might even be able to find the ranger’s remains. If the bodies were fresh enough, a skilled life mage could return them to life. If not, then they could at least see their friends properly buried. Being a Fionaveir, properly buried meant a good retirement. A rumble sounded above him, and he looked up toward the sky. It was difficult to see through the tangled limbs of the ancient oaks and pines, but the sky looked a bit dark to the south. Gaelyn was south of them though he had no idea where Briarford was. It would seem he was riding toward a rather wet day in the wilderness.

“What a perfectly wonderful way to start a perfectly wonderful day,” he sang again lightly, getting a rather odd look from the wolf pacing a few feet to his left. He ignored the Shifter and continued whistling the song under his breath. His gaze moved from tree to tree and along the fern-lined trail they rode on. While it wasn’t the pristine gardens of Sanctuary, it did have a certain feral beauty to it. Soon enough he would be in hostile country, getting soaked through by a storm while hunting very proficient killers with a very proficient killer as company. For now, he would make the best of it and whistle if he damn well pleased, while enjoying the serene beauty around him. Only the Aspects knew when he would be able to do either again.

Chapter 22

Sanctuary

Jala sat up in her bed with a start. Her body was covered with a thin film of sweat and her breathing came quick. She blinked a few times and looked around her room until she was fully awake. She was used to nightmares, but that had not been a nightmare. She felt a blush heat her cheeks and wondered if she had made any noise, suddenly conscious that the object of her dream slept just on the other side of her wall.

I wonder if his empathic abilities are always active, or if he just senses your emotions on occasions. Would be interesting to know what he dreams of tonight, Marrow’s voice was filled with amusement as he spoke in her mind and she felt herself tense at the words. She hadn’t even considered Finn sensing her mood. With a rush of panic, she turned and regarded the wall with an expression of dismay. Just the thought of explaining her dream to him made her blush deeper.

Her door cracked open a bit, and she nearly fell out of bed onto her face at the sound. She looked over to find Finn leaning through the crack with a look of concern. Seeing her awake, he stepped the rest of the way into her room and she found herself grateful for the darkness of the room. At least he might not notice her blush. He crossed the room silently, wearing nothing more than pants that had obviously just been put on, as they were not even laced properly. She couldn’t see his expression, given the darkness, but she could sense his concern.

“Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare? I could sense panic,” he whispered and knelt by her bedside, so close she could smell the scent of him, a mixture of soap and sweat, and that certain spice that seemed his alone. He ran a hand down Marrow’s back as he waited for her answer, seeming to relax when he noticed the Bendazzi’s calmness.

“I’m fine, the trip today has just put my nerves on edge, I suppose,” she replied quietly, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. She was rather nervous at the prospect of traveling to the Tolanteer forest. He reached up and squeezed her hand giving her a smile she could barely make out in the darkness.

“Nothing to worry about. You will have Marrow and me with you, and I believe Wisp plans to go, as well. If something actually makes it past us, Wisp will put an arrow through its eye,” he said, his tone reassuring.

“She mentioned going yesterday after classes, but I didn’t know she had decided on it,” Jala said. Her blush was receding now and she felt her pulse slowing. She gave a glance toward the window. It was still full dark out with stars shining brightly. The moon itself wasn’t visible, but she guessed dawn was still hours away. “I’m okay, really. You should get back to bed because it’s bound to be a long day. By the end of it, I’m sure we will both regret my waking us,” she urged, though she doubted she would ever regret seeing Finn at any hour of the day.

Finn looked away from her and down to Marrow and made an amused sound. “Not a bad idea at all,” he murmured with another gentle stroke down the Bendazzi’s back. Marrow stretched out fully on his side and from what Jala could sense he seemed far too pleased with himself.

“What did he say?” she asked, hoping her voice hadn’t actually squeaked as she thought it had. She frowned down at Marrow and once again found herself regretting that he could speak with others. He seemed to prefer to send his brief little comments to Finn more than anyone else though. It might be that Finn was simply not afraid of him and hadn’t shown any concern, since she had told him Marrow was her Familiar. It might also be that the Bendazzi had a very sadistic sense of humor and liked making her squirm. Of the two choices she strongly suspected the latter.

I have nothing but your best interest in mind, you know this. Quit fussing. Marrow’s words were mildly scolding, but still held far too much amusement for her to quit fussing as he put it.

Finn released her hand and stood with a slight stretch he seemed to examine her bed and then lifted the covers and laid down beside her. She looked at him with wide eyes unsure if she wanted to object or rejoice. “He said I should just stay in here given there wasn’t much left of the night, and in the event that you had another dream, I would be close if you needed me,” he answered at last. With a contented sigh, he shifted his position to a more comfortable one and draped an arm across her waist before closing his eyes. “All in all, I would say your Familiar is a very wise one,” he whispered and pulled her over closer to him.

“Indeed,” she replied a bit breathless, and forced herself to relax. She had slept beside Finn before and not had erotic dreams. Of course, that had been right after visiting Merro and the memories of her past, and that was far from stimulus to lust. She paused at the word, and searched deeper in her mind. Was it lust? That seemed a word more for Finn’s warmers. She didn’t really know what word was right for her in this circumstance. She had only known him a few months but the world seemed empty when he wasn’t nearby. She had missed Shade when he had gone off to do errands, but when Finn left to do something, or she had classes and he wasn’t around, everything was darker somehow. That hardly seemed a proper description for lust.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice was barely a whisper in her ear and his breath was warm on her neck.

She stiffened slightly. She thought he had gone to sleep. He was so still and his breathing so soft, she couldn’t believe he’d been lying there so quietly. Finn was not the sort simply to lie still. He was always either talking or moving. “I thought you were asleep,” she admitted.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” he pressed. His eyes were still closed and his expression seemed peaceful, from what she could see of it.

“Do you sense my emotions all of the time? I catch yours from time to time but not often,” she asked. It was, of course, not what she had been thinking of, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Only on occasion, and it seems to be mostly when you are distressed,” he answered.

“I usually catch your amusement. I don’t think you are angry often enough for me to know if I sense that regularly. but I did catch that from you at the Arena,” she replied. Shifting her position slightly she turned more to face him and rested her hand on his chest. The skin was warm and soft to the touch with the strength of stone in the muscles relaxed beneath it. “Is that normal? I have never sensed anyone’s emotions before,” she asked. It was a question she truly hoped he would answer, and she prayed he would say it wasn’t normal. It seemed like a special connection to her, and if he said he sensed the emotions of others, it would steal the magic from it.

“Not normal at all, unless you are an Empath. I’ve never sensed anything off anyone before, not even my own brother,” he replied, and she felt a surge of joy at the words. She carefully removed the beaming smile from her face and thanked Fortune that his eyes were still closed. She saw him smile then and heard him give a slight chuckle. “Now that was much better than the emotions I usually get from you,” he said opening one eye to regard her. “Maybe it has to do with how close I am to you,” he suggested with a roguish grin and pulled her even closer. She was pressed against him fully now, flattened to his side gently from shoulder to legs. “I always move closer when you are upset, maybe I should start moving closer when you are happy to balance things.”

“Maybe,” she agreed faintly. Her pulse had quickened and her breathing seemed a bit faster, as well. She forced herself to slow it and tried again to relax. It seemed an impossible task, though, with his hand on her back and his body so close. She felt him shift beside her and then his lips were on hers and pressing her back toward her own pillow. His weight pressed on her softly and the kiss seemed to last an eternity and an instant in the same breath. She had never kissed a man before, and she worried at how clumsy she must be, but if Finn objected, he gave no sign.

He ran a hand through her hair and stared into her eyes for a long moment before speaking. “I don’t think I would care to sense the emotions of others. Your opinion and feelings are the only ones that truly concern me. I can’t explain it and I don’t want to examine it. I prefer simply to accept it and enjoy it,” he said, as he traced a finger down her cheek, still gazing into her eyes. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” he said after another moment and slowly lowered himself back down to his own pillow. “Nearly as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, and that is saying a lot.”

She curled up beside him again, wondering at the single kiss. Perhaps she had been too clumsy, though he didn’t seem to be offended.

“Watch how close you get. I’m not used to restraint on these matters and I’m afraid my willpower isn’t as great as it should be right now,” he warned gently. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes again and took a few more steady slow breaths.

“Should I move away?” she asked, hoping he would say no.

He gave a slight shake of his head in answer. “You are fine,” he said after a moment and moved his arm back across her. “Best to get some sleep though. You were right, it will be a long day, and if we test my willpower much more, I’m afraid it will break.”

“Probably the best idea,” she agreed and closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. She wasn’t really sure she wanted sleep right now, but he obviously didn’t want her to push matters.

Mi tevalla sel yondra mi vezradesh, he whispered just as she was drifting off. At first she had thought the words mumbled and that she hadn’t heard them right, and then realized it had been another language he spoke. She repeated the words over in her mind committing them to memory and decided later would be a better time to ask what he had said.

Morning came with bright sunlight and birdsong and Finn carefully disentangled himself from her arms and crawled out of bed. With a frown, she found herself hating mornings more than she ever had before. She gave a sleepy mumble of protest and curled into the warm spot where he had been laying. It wasn’t that the room was cold. It was actually quite pleasant and promised to be a beautiful day, that is, if and when she decided to face it.

“I told you mornings were horrible,” Finn agreed to her mumblings and leaned over the bed. With gentle hands, he pulled the blanket away from her head and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “This is your quest we are going on, though, and it’s scarcely good form for you to be late to your own journey,” he reminded her.

Frown still in place, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. With barely a thought, she pulled him back down into the bed nearly causing him to fall across her. His expression was so shocked she found herself giggling as he straightened to a more comfortable position. “Mornings aren’t horrible. Your getting up was horrible,” she mumbled, and snuggled up beside him again.

He brushed some of her hair back from his face and wrapped an arm around her. “You are going to make us both late to the sky port, and everyone is going to blame me,” he pointed out, his voice low. He ran his hand up her back gently, fingers tracing from tailbone to shoulder with infuriating delicacy. “And I’m not going to complain in the slightest,” he added after a moment and kissed her again with a bit more urgency than the night before. She felt his hand slide under the back of her nightgown, and his fingers were warm on her bare flesh. She returned the kiss with equal urgency, not caring if the others waited half the afternoon at the sky port. She wrapped her leg around his and pressed herself fully against him. She was not really sure what she was doing, and didn’t care in the least.

A heavy weight landed on the bed near them, and Marrow promptly dropped his full weight across their legs. You had your chance for this in the early hours of the morning. We have things that must be done today. Cease your mating and get up, the Bendazzi said firmly, apparently viewing himself as a chaperone as well as a Familiar.

“Damn you to the blackest depths of the Darklands, Marrow,” Finn growled and pulled his legs from under the Bendazzi with a glare of pure fury. He rose from the bed his eyes still fixed on the Bendazzi. Slowly he took a deep breath and looked down at Jala forcing his expression to one of calmness. “Sorry, I shouldn’t curse him,” he amended, though from his glance at Marrow, she didn’t truly think he was sorry in the slightest.

“Blackest depths, indeed,” she agreed with a half-hearted kick to the Bendazzi and rose herself. Finn’s expression changed at once all traces of anger gone replaced by something she didn’t quite recognize. She watched him in confusion and glanced down at Marrow as if seeking the answer.

Your nightgown is silk and pale colored. Your undergarments are silk and dark colored. And you are standing in front of a bright sunlit window. You have just displayed all that Fortune granted you, and that look on his face is admiration, Marrow explained patiently, and her blush rose so fast she felt faint for a moment.

“I should…uh…I should get dressed,” she stammered and quickly moved from the window.

You were about to mate with him before I jumped on the bed, and now you turn colors because he sees what you look like naked? Did you expect he wouldn’t notice you had breasts while you were rutting? The Bendazzi sounded both incredulous and amazed in her mind, and she cast him a quick glare.

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” she hissed in a voice so quiet only Marrow could hear.

Finn was across the room now, almost to the door. “I’ve got to check with Valor about something before we go, but I should be ready in about ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Would you prefer I say the sentimental exchange of bodily fluids? Marrow asked in a tone thick with sarcasm.

It didn’t seem quite right that an overgrown cat should be sarcastic. She was willing to bet a good bit of the remaining gold she had, that sorcerers with rats or toads as Familiars, didn’t have to deal with sarcasm first thing in the morning.

No doubt, but then they have a bloody toad for a Familiar. I think sarcasm is a very small price to pay, personally, he replied to her thoughts smugly. A Bendazzi is a precious gift. Don’t you feel blessed? You should probably be getting dressed.

Her door opened again, and she looked over to see Wisp sliding inside with a bundle under one arm. The Fae looked at her with wide eyes and a wider smile. “So I notice Finn didn’t sleep in his room last night,” she said, her eyes twinkling. She sat the bundle down and began to unwrap it. “Be a good girl now and tell me all about it while I get your clothes ready.”

“My clothes?” Jala asked dumbly and glanced down at the gown she held in her hands.

“You didn’t seriously think you were going to go wandering off into the Tolanteer in a dress, did you?” Wisp asked in amazement. “Ridiculous. Come and see what I’ve brought you.”

Jala moved closer and looked over Wisp’s shoulder at the dark green leathers she held. She ran a hand down the jerkin and marveled at the softness of it. “That will never fit me, it’s obviously yours,” she objected.

Wisp gave an amused snort. “It’s yours now, and it will fit you as soon as you touch it, as if I would own armor that’s not magical.” She handed the leathers over with a light toss, and to Jala’s amazement the fine worked armor did seem to shift as she caught it. It was crafted with such loving care that the seams could barely be seen. An overall pattern of vining leaves and flowers covered the majority of it making it more a work of art than armor.

“I can’t accept this, Wisp, it’s so fine,” Jala objected again and tried to hand it back. Wisp gave her a scathing look and dropped a chain mail vest over the top of the leathers she held. The rings were a bright polished gold and the same vines and flowers adorned the vest in a pattern over the links. There was no rattle of metal as it settled though and she reached up to touch the rings in curiosity. “What is this?” she asked in amazement. It was light to the touch and felt nothing like any metal she knew.

“The leathers are made of serpent hide, and the chain mail is made of serpent bone. It’s as strong as metal, no worries. They have some sort of process for it where they grind the bones up into a fine powder and mix tempers in with it before firing it. They call it serpent bone porcelain, but it’s hardly an adequate name. Finn’s armor is made of the same stuff, you will see. And if he uses it, you know it’s durable.”

“I’ve never seen Finn wear armor,” Jala admitted and carefully set the leathers down on her bed. “I have no boots.” She began the objection as Wisp dropped a pair of knee high matching boots onto the floor beside the bed.

“He wears it rarely. Often doesn’t think he needs it. He will wear it today, though, mark my words. C’mon now, out of the night gown, and I’ll help you get dressed. The serpent hide armor is soft enough you don’t need under padding which is a blessing. When you have to wear under padding it gets bloody smothering in the summer,” Wisp said merrily, tugging the nightgown up and over Jala’s head as she spoke.

“Do you think he will need it today?” Jala asked with a bit of concern.

“One never knows, and it’s always better to have it when you need it,” Wisp replied with a smile. “You still haven’t told me any juicy details,” she pointed out, and Jala fell silent once more.

With long practiced ease, Wisp helped her into the armor, showing her where to buckle each piece and then tugged the chain mail on over it all. “Perfect. Well, almost. Get the boots on while I get the last touches.” The small Fae moved quickly back to her bag and pulled a cloak of silver and white from its depths. It seemed a reversible garment with white fur lining one side and fine silver cloth on the other. “Finn had this made for you, and he had me make this for you as well.” Wisp dropped a small box into her hand with a shrug. “Though I don’t understand why it hardly seems ladylike. You can change the colors of the armor, by the way. Just focus on it and will it to change. Like so.” With a quick poke to Jala’s side, the armor shifted from green leather to a hideous bright pink while the chain mail turned to a bright yellow. Wisp broke into peals of delighted laughter, and Jala wasn’t sure if it was from her expression or the garish colors.

“Oh that’s horrible, Wisp,” she gasped, as she caught her reflection in the mirror. She closed her eyes and concentrated, willing the leathers to a dark purple almost black, and the chain mail to silver, while keeping the vines and flowers on the chain a pristine white. She opened her eyes and admired the armor. It truly was beautiful. She gave Wisp a slight shake of the head and opened the small box. A cloak pin rested inside. It was a simple circle with knot work around the edges and the intricately detailed form of a badger engraved in the center. The metal was a bit tarnished and didn’t look as though it had been polished at all. She remained silent, staring down at the cloak pin and slowly looked up to Wisp.

“You don’t like it then? I didn’t think you would. The badger is not exactly a popular beast. He gave me some worn and rusted buckles. Might have been from a saddle judging by the size and shape, but I don’t know, and told me to make that. I offered to get some silver, and suggested he was rather tight fisted with his money, but he insisted,” Wisp explained, her expression frustrated.

“No, this is perfect. He knew exactly what I would like,” she said quietly, closing her fingers around the cloak pin and remembering Havoc’s words so long ago in the Temple. “Your father earned the name Badger for his tenacity. He never quit, he never gave up, no matter the odds.”

“It is?” Wisp asked, sounding a bit dumbfounded. “Well OK, then, maybe Finn isn’t an idiot, although I will need further proof before I make the final decision on that matter.” With a dainty wave of her hand, Jala felt magic wash over her and her hair rose from her face and plaited itself down her back into a thick intricate braid. Wisp gave a nod of approval and handed her a slender gold circlet. “You can make it silver if you like and change the gem color. It’s the final piece of armor. I hate helms you see, so I have those made and enchanted to act as a helm. It isn’t quite the same protection as a plate helm, but it’s better than going without.” She gave Jala a final look over and grinned at the result. “Finn’s jaw will hit the floor.” She fairly giggled and then smiled with mischief. “I’ve decided I won’t smack you even though you look far better in that armor than I ever did. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get ready myself.” And with that the Fae bustled from the room as energetic as a hummingbird.

Jala watched her go, and looked down at the cloak pin in her hand. No, she decided as she studied it, lust was certainly not the correct word to describe what she felt for Finn Sovaesh. She ran her thumb across the engraved badger and stood slowly. With exaggerated care, she picked up the cloak and fastened it silver side out around her neck and then carefully donned the circlet. With the slightest of efforts, she turned the metal to silver and changed the green stone to a deep amethyst and looked at herself in the mirror. It had been so long since she had worn anything but dresses that wearing pants felt strange. She smiled ruefully into the mirror at the memory of her father’s words.

“What brought that smile about? It’s a good one.”

She glanced over her shoulder and found Finn leaning against the door frame. He wore a dark cloak, and under it she could see fine plate and chain armor every bit as detailed as her own. The Barllen swords hung at his side, another sign that he thought today would be quite dangerous. She pushed the thought away without too much consideration. With Marrow and Finn beside her, she was not too concerned with whatever the day might throw at them. Whatever it was, they would deal with it swiftly.

“I was remembering something my father said once,” she said a bit dreamily. She turned from the mirror and watched his gaze follow her, the same look from earlier was on his face. The one Marrow had said was appreciation. “I used to be a bit rougher when I was little and tended to prefer patched trousers. He said one day I would wear nothing but dresses with ribbons in my hair and all of my thoughts would revolve around boys.” She gave him a smile and rolled her eyes. “He was wise, but he wasn’t quite on the mark. I have never worn ribbons, and the dresses were forced on me for so long at the Temple they became normal. My thoughts do not revolve around boys either,” she finished with a slight chuckle.

He raised an eyebrow and remained silent just watching her. The bloody aspects they don’t, Marrow objected loudly in her mind.

She turned her eyes to the Bendazzi and shook her head slightly. They don’t, and you well know it. My thoughts rest on one, and he is hardly what I would call a boy, she corrected mildly and looked back to Finn. “I’m ready to go whenever Wisp is,” she offered, pleased by the smile that warmed his face.

“Come to my room for a moment, I’ve another surprise for you. I hope you will appreciate it, considering how long Valor worked on finding it for me.” He gave a slight chuckle and motioned her to follow after.

She walked behind him, curious, and wondered why she was getting flooded with gifts this morning. First the armor from Wisp, then the cloak pin, and now this. She was beginning to wonder if she had missed an important holiday as he closed his door behind her. Two wooden crates sat in the floor in front of his bed. They were carved from pine if she guessed right and had slats on the sides as well as the roof.

“The one on the right is yours,” he motioned and raised an eyebrow at her. “You have never seen these before have you?” he asked with amusement.

“Umm, wooden boxes?” she asked with shrug. “Yes, a few times, but not those particular boxes,” she answered.

He gave a light chuckle and shook his head. “No, no. They are carry boxes for transport on spell hawks,” he explained and moved quickly to the box on the right. With a gentle hand, he pushed the lid back revealing a small cat-sized animal inside. From the angle of where she stood, she couldn’t make out exactly what the creature was, other than dark colored and upset with Marrow approaching.

Food? Marrow asked hopefully, as he moved closer to stand by Finn.

Finn gently pushed the Bendazzi back and smiled. “I know they look like prey, but we will need them. Step back please you are scaring them half to death.”

Jala moved closer for a better look. She realized with shock they were horses after perhaps two steps and quickly knelt beside Finn. “They are so small,” she gasped.

“And they don’t much care for being picked up in this size. It tends to piss them off, and they will remember it when you remove the magic shrinking them later,” he warned. He pointed toward the little black one that seemed to be calming now that Marrow had moved back. “He is yours. I’ve had Valor searching for him all week. Valor knows far more about horses than I do, and I wanted to be sure the animal was a good one and had more to offer than just the right coloring.”

She leaned over toward the horse and smiled at the markings. A perfect blaze and four white socks just as her pony so long ago had been. She closed her eyes and smiled. If she had ever wondered if Finn paid attention to what she told him, she now had her answer. It seemed he hadn’t missed a single detail the night she had shown him her life before Sanctuary. Wordlessly, she leaned over and gave him a kiss, slow and sweet.

“I take it, you like him then. For that sort of reward, you will end up with a herd of horses. If I get a kiss for each one,” he teased.

“I do like him, but that isn’t why you got the kiss so don’t go buying a herd,” she laughed.

He gave her a grin and bowed his head. He returned the lid to the box and gave a sigh. “If you want to check on Wisp I’ll take the horses outside. If I’m lucky I can get Val to help me carry them to the sky port.”

“I can carry one,” she offered and he shook his head at the idea and rose, lifting both boxes. “So stubborn,” she sighed, and rose, as well. “Fine, I’ll check on Wisp and meet you outside then,” she agreed and headed off in search of the Fae.

Wisp was emerging from her rooms as Jala approached. She was dressed in her house colors of green and gold with a bow nearly matching her in height across her back. She looked up as Jala approached and gave her a warm smile. “All ready,” she pronounced, holding both arms out as if to display the swords, daggers, bow and armor she wore. She looked as though she was heading for a battlefield, Jala noted silently and wondered if she should be armed with more than the small ruby hilted dagger she always wore.

“Finn is waiting outside for us,” Jala said and turned toward the door. She paused and looked at the Fae considering. “Wisp, do you know what Mi tevalla sel yondra mi vezradesh means?” she asked on impulse, hoping she had gotten the unfamiliar words right. Wisp was a veteran of the Academy for the past four years it was possible she would know the language.

Wisp gave a quick curious nod. “The first part is ‘my soul is yours my…” The last word, however, has several meanings. It can be heart, or love, or eternity, depending. That’s Firym, by the way, if you didn’t know,” she explained. She seemed to consider the phrase and frowned. “Where did you hear it?” she asked after a long pause.

Jala gave her an enigmatic smile in response. “It may have been in a dream, it certainly seemed like one,” she replied, and chose to ignore her friend’s confusion.

They reached the sky port only one hour late. Shade had already loaded his own possessions, and it was a simple matter for theirs. The only thing the three of them had brought that they weren’t wearing was the horse boxes. Shade pulled her aside with a bit of a glower. She knew it had nothing at all to do with the time of day.

“I didn’t agree to his coming at all. You know we don’t get along,” Shade fairly growled.

“I noticed Madren looking out the door of the spell hawk as we approached,” Jala countered, her tone conversational.

Shade frowned deeper and shook his head. “That’s different, Madren is from Goswin, and he will be able to direct us where to go.” He shook his head at her as if she were a disobedient child that he had no idea what to do with. “Even were he not from Goswin, he would still be better company to keep than Finn Sovaesh. I would have thought the Arena experience would have shown you that.”

“Oh, really? Yes, I would actually like to discuss that, since it was your betrothed that accosted us at dinner with that matter.” Jala turned her full attention on him now and felt her temper starting to rise to the occasion. “I believe it all started because I didn’t realize you were betrothed, and she decided I was your peasant whore. Are you certain you want to continue down this path, Shade? I don’t think we quite share the same view on it.”

Shade shook his head and looked as though he would like to shake her, as well. “Cassia aside, Jala, the man is a butcher. Didn’t you see that for yourself? From what I hear he practically tore Devron’s head from his shoulders. He is little better than an Assassin.”

“And every time I have needed him, that butcher. as you call him, has been there,” she snarled back at him, eyes flashing dangerously. “No matter what time of day or how ridiculous the task I ask of him, he is there without question.” Unlike you, she finished silently. She could see from his expression she didn’t need to voice the words.

“You know that room you stayed in at my hall was empty because of him. He butchered my friend the same as he did Devron, only he used a soul blade that time so no matter how much gold I spent I couldn’t bring him back.” Shade’s tone was quieter, still holding anger but not as much now. He had seemed to deflate with her last comment. “I would have been there if I could have, Jala. You never told me when you needed someone there,” he said with no apparent anger at all. His tone just seemed to hold sadness. He rubbed his face and looked over to the waiting spell hawk. “All in all, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I think of him. That is your choice and I won’t turn my back on you for it, but did you have to bring him today?”

“As much as you had to bring Leah and Madren,” she replied gently. “He promised he would try to get along, Shade. He will keep his word.”

“That’s a one-sided promise. I won’t agree to that for anything. Nothing can make me friendly to the man, Jala, not even you,” Shade replied and turned back to the ship. “If I have to travel with him, so be it. Let’s get it done with.”

“I can find other transport if it bothers you that much, Shade,” she offered, not wanting to spend the entire time on the spell hawk dealing with this tension.

“I told you I would take you to the Tolanteer. As you recall I keep my word, as well.” His reply came a bit stiffly as if she had insulted him with the suggestion. Without another word, he stepped into the spell hawk, passing Wisp and Finn without so much as a good morning.

Finn raised an eyebrow at her as she approached and she sighed. “He really doesn’t like you, Finn,” she said with a hint of a smile. “But I assured him you would behave on the trip.”

“Oh, indeed, as gentle as a lamb, I promise,” Finn replied, his voice showing only a hint of sarcasm. They stepped onto the spell hawk and Finn’s eyes seemed almost immediately drawn to Madren who sat wide-eyed in one of the four back seats. Jala gave a groan and looked to Wisp for help, but found the Fae smirking with a look in her eyes that suggested if Finn chose to slit the man’s throat, she would applaud.

“Uhh. Hello, Jala, and you two as well,” Madren greeted her with a hesitant smile and looked nervously at her companions.

“Shade treats you quite gently, doesn’t he?” Finn cut in before she could return the greeting. Madren bobbed his head in nervous reply and swallowed heavily. “So much as look at Jala in a way I don’t approve of and I won’t. He slaps your hand. I’ll cut your bloody hand off and feed it to you. Are we clear?”

Madren paled more and gave a quick nod. “Very clear, very clear indeed,” he agreed hastily.

“Fine start, if you think perhaps you can stop bullying Madren and take a seat we will be off,” Shade called over his shoulder, his expression dark.

“I suppose it can wait till later,” Finn agreed with a smile that was so forced it was almost comical. Jala regarded the two of them, then looked to Wisp who clearly supported Finn, and then to Leah who sat beside Shade with an expression identical to his own. It was as if battle lines had been drawn, and she hadn’t yet received orders.

Quite, and the only one that isn’t ready to fight is Madren. Does that make you the mirror of the creepy stalker since you are peaceful as well? Marrow nudged his way past her and sat at Finn’s feet, making his own position on the matter quite clear. She gave a slight shudder at the thought and sat down in the only chair available now, the one next to Madren. With a long sigh, she sank back in her chair and decided she would sleep most of the flight. All she had to do was manage to get sleepy, and that would be a splendid plan. At least she knew Finn would occupy himself chopping off Madren’s appendages if he caught the little creep watching her sleep. She forced back a snort of amusement and listened to a brief hushed argument behind her. Wisp seemed quite firm on whatever topic they were discussing and apparently won the debate. Finn gave a brief grunt of disapproval and moved up to her seat.

“Jala, I don’t want you sitting here, and Wisp won’t trade you seats,” he explained in a quiet, calm voice.

Jala, now past the point of manners, gave a snort of laughter. “No, really, she won’t? I wonder why ever not, the view is so wonderful,” she asked in amusement. Looking pointedly at one dark wall of the spell hawk then the other and then to Madren. With a flutter of eyelashes, she returned her eyes to Finn’s, and choked back another snort of laughter.

Finn gave her a dry expression and then shrugged. “So you are going to sit with me,” he finished with a nod. He stood abruptly and looked down at her as if expecting her to argue.

“But you said she wouldn’t trade,” Jala began and then fell silent as Finn picked her body up from the chair, returned to his own seat, and sat back down with her balanced neatly on his lap. “Oh,” she said lamely and gave a slight nod. “Sit with you, got it now.” He shifted her position slightly, apparently searching for the most comfortable position for his leg, and leaned back in his seat with a nod of approval.

“I suppose this means we are ready,” Jala called ahead to Shade who was sitting so rigid it seemed possible someone had left a dagger sitting point up on his seat. Shade gave her a curt nod and wordlessly turned his full attention on the controls. Within moments, the spell hawk rose gracefully from the sky port and away from Sanctuary.

Jala watched Shade for the first few minutes of the flight and tried not to think how much differently her first flight had gone. He had been so calm and relaxed and had answered her endless questions with a patience she only saw in Sovann now. The thought depressed her, and she leaned her head back against Finn’s shoulder. She turned her legs to where she sat draped across his lap, spreading her weight to what she hoped was easier on Finn’s legs. “Maybe we should have just stayed in bed,” she whispered to him.

He looked down at her with a look of pure indignation. “Now you say that?” he demanded, though his voice held no anger at all. “After we have already left the city and are on our way. Had you said that while we were still at the Academy I assure you, I would be smiling right now.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the neck and winked at her. “And so would you.”

“So does this new found cuddliness mean the two of you are a couple now?” Wisp asked in a low voice, leaning closer to the two of them. “I had wondered when I didn’t see a single warmer come out of Finn’s room all week but shrugged it off.”

Finn gave a non-committal shrug and remained silent. Jala twisted a strand of hair around her finger and considered the question. It wasn’t really hers to answer, she didn’t think. She hadn’t even paid attention to the lack of women around Finn recently. But now that Wisp mentioned it, he had been alone every time she had seen him, except for the occasional presence of Valor or Wisp. Valor seemed almost a constant presence in Finn’s life, and it was clear the two had been friends for quite some time.

“You do both realize poor Valor is going to be walking around in a constant state of exhaustion and dehydration trying to keep his share, as well as Finn’s share, of the single ladies of Sanctuary satisfied.” Wisp pointed out with obvious amusement.

“I doubt he will complain,” Finn replied.

Wisp’s eyes widened at the comment, and a smile rose on her perfect lips. “Oh my, that’s more of a yes than I had expected to get. How perfectly wonderful, I had always thought you were allergic to commitment.” She gave Jala a wink and her smile widened. “A Bendazzi and a Finn. You are quite possibly the most proficient big game hunter I’ve ever seen.”

Finn gave her a glower in response and Jala snickered. She gave Finn a light pat on the cheek. “I bagged this one in the market square,” she teased, trying to hold back her grin.

“It’s so good to see the two of you becoming such good friends,” Finn muttered dryly, rolling his shoulders and leaning more heavily into his seat. “I wish I’d thought to bring the proper herbs to keep you both snoring on the trip, had I known how close you were I’m sure I would have remembered them.”

“Drugging us, eh? Perhaps you should let Jala sit here and gossip with me and you can move forward a seat and trade recipes with Madren,” Wisp suggested with a snicker, drawing another glower from Finn.

“For that, I might just punt you from the hawk, pixie,” he grumbled.

Jala grinned at the banter and pulled her cloak around herself. With her free hand, she took Finn’s and laced her fingers with it, pulling it up to her chest. She gave him a softer smile and squeezed his hand lightly. “I’d rather you not move seats. I’m quite comfortable.” His glower disappeared and he returned the smile.

Chapter 23

Rivana

The afternoon sun glared down as they disembarked the spell hawk. It hadn’t been a long flight, in truth, but the tension in the ship had been thick for most of the voyage. With a sigh of relief to be in the open air again, Jala stepped down behind Finn and took a long, deep breath. Wisp gave her a grin and nodded her silent agreement. Finn stopped just beyond the ship and looked around warily. He surveyed the broad open country and looked back at Shade. “This is not Goswin. Where are we?” he asked, his tone only a note or two from demand.

Shade looked over from where he was unloading his gear and frowned. “It’s Rivana. Look at the map, Finn. I didn’t have a choice where to land. Had I chosen North Goswin we would have been here for days trying to reach the forest, and you can’t fly a spell hawk over South Goswin, there are too many fluxes.”

“Fluxes?” asked Jala, her own eyes roving their surroundings with more apprehension now. She didn’t care much for the thought of being on Rivana soil so soon after Finn had killed Devron.

“Magical flux, they are somewhat of storms really. No pilot will fly over Southern Goswin because of them. Some side effect of the failed spell the witches were casting,” Shade explained. “The best I can say is, we hurry and cross the border. I doubt they will have time to respond to us being here before we are beyond their reach. I will stone the spell hawk and take it with us, so we can leave from another location. Still, I feel it necessary to point out that we wouldn’t have a problem if you hadn’t killed the High Lord’s Son.”

“Indeed. Well you’ve pointed it out and I still don’t regret the action,” Finn replied, not bothering to look at Shade as he spoke. He was too intent on getting the horses out of their boxes and handing them off to Wisp for the dispelling.

“Is it likely that they could even tell we are here?” Jala asked dubiously. The area looked quite remote to her, and she doubted there was a village anywhere for miles.

“That depends on if Shade disabled his location crystal, if he didn’t then every sky port within two hundred miles knows we are here,” Finn answered. “Which of course he didn’t because it is illegal to fly without one and Shade of course would not want to cause a scandal,” he added, rolling his eyes in a look of utter disgust.

“Not all of us are criminals,” Shade snapped back.

“I am not a criminal,” Finn growled as he mounted his horse and tossed Jala the reins to her own mount.

“Of course not, that’s why we are running toward a border,” Shade replied dryly.

“Please stop. Both of you, please,” Jala pleaded, looking between the two of them. Finn had the grace to look mildly ashamed, but Shade continued to glower. “You are both here to help me, I know, and I appreciate it so much, but so help me if you keep bickering at each other, I’m going to stay with the witches.”

“Don’t even joke like that,” Madren broke in, his tone sounding nervous. He raised a hand toward his forehead and made a gesture Jala wasn’t familiar with.

“What was that?” she asked, indicating his hand. Madren remained silent and shook his head frowning down at the ground rather than meeting her gaze.

“Warding gesture against evil,” Finn answered with a smirk of amusement. “You are Shade’s man, Madren, don’t you realize according to his philosophy, evil doesn’t exist. Everything is grey. You should learn a warding gesture for slightly darker grey than you.”

“Finn!” Jala snapped, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll behave,” Finn apologized, the words only slightly broken from his continued snickering.

“Why don’t we go now that Shade has the ship stoned? Before the Rivasans turn up to show us how dark of grey they are,” Wisp suggested and nudged her horse into motion. Jala gave a curt nod of agreement and urged her horse up beside Wisp’s.

Silently, the others fell in behind them with Madren moving to the lead, presumably to guide their expedition. The borders between the two lands were as stark a contrast as the borders of Merro and the Greenwild. Where the Rivasan border ended the ground turned to new forest thick with underbrush where trees, barely more than saplings, clawed at each other in an effort to gain the sun’s attention.

“Lucky you brought me,” Wisp said and gave Jala a wink. With a dainty hand, she motioned gently to the trees and hummed a bit under her breath. With creaks of protest, the tree branches parted making an overgrown but serviceable path through the tangled woods.

“I didn’t know you were an earth mage,” Jala grinned at Wisp. She had heard of the crafters from Sovann, but Wisp was the first she had actually seen working magics.

“Oh I dabble a bit, enough to make life more convenient, but nothing serious. I can’t move mountains like the great ones supposedly did. I can make the trees bend a bit and remove the worst of the vines, though,” Wisp replied happily and continued to clear their path as they rode.

“We need to make it to the old wood before dark,” Madren said from ahead of them. He sat rigid on his horse and Jala could see the faint gleam of sweat on the back of his neck despite the cool breeze.

“Why?” asked Wisp. Her attention was focused on her magic and Jala doubted she had noticed Madren’s distress.

“This is the beginning of the Dead fields. According to tales, there is a new tree for each man that fell in the last battle. Those souls were bound here as well as the witches, and they rise at night. Whether the number is accurate or not, I couldn’t say, but I know a damned lot of men died here. We don’t have a spirit mage to keep the dead at bay so it’s better just to hurry,” Madren explained, his voice low and sounding a bit choked.

“Death must delight in this place. That’s a lot of souls she had been denied,” Finn said dryly.

Jala looked around at the forest and contemplated how long it would take to count the trees. For as far as she could see in all directions, new growths of maple and oak covered the landscape. “That’s a bloody lot of dead,” she mumbled to Wisp.

Wisp looked over at her with a mild frown. “Haven’t gotten to Goswin in history yet, have you?” she asked.

Jala shook her head. “No, I’m on Faydwer now, actually.”

“On the day of the falling, two of the northern armies were here as well as the entire southern army, over three hundred thousand died on that single day. It was the worst disaster since the founding of Sanctuary. Until the fall of Merro and Veir, that is.” Wisp eyed the trees as she spoke with a bit more reverence, and it seemed to Jala that her earth crafting took on a gentler note.

“Did you notice there is no wildlife?” Jala said quietly. She hadn’t really noticed the silence when they had first entered the woods. With growing unease, she looked around, hoping to spot a bird or squirrel, or any sign of life other than their small party.

“If you were wildlife would you show yourself with the scent of Bendazzi in the air?” Finn asked with a smile.

Jala gave a nervous chuckle at his attempt to lighten her mood and refrained from pointing out that Marrow had no scent. “How far until the older part of the forest, Madren?” she called ahead.

“Three or so hours at this pace,” Madren answered.

Wisp gazed up at the sky in contemplation and then urged her small bay mare into a trot. “Less, if we move a bit faster, and I’m inclined to move a bit faster.”

The trip through the new forest was a silent one for the most part. The attention of the group had been focused on navigating through the thick brush and trying to ignore the coming dark. Of all of them, only Finn seemed unfazed by the surroundings. At one point, Jala had actually heard him whistling a rather bawdy tavern song behind her.

She had spent most of the ride thinking the old wood would be a sort of sanctuary from the dangers of the Dead Fields. The reality of how wrong she had been, dawned as they neared the ancient trees. The unease of the newer growth was nothing compared with the oppressive feel of the dark giants. The underbrush gradually fell away in small degrees as they neared, and the path widened enough that Wisp’s magics were no longer required. She felt more than heard Finn move up to ride beside her as they crossed under the nearly black canopy. While it was only dusk beyond the Tolanteer forest, under the branches it was already as dark as full night. Being raised in the country, Jala had never really known fear of the wilds or of darkness, but the feel of this forest was wrong to her every sense. It was as if the trees themselves were filled with anger. Even Marrow seemed on edge in the forest, keeping to the shadows and watching his surroundings with caution. She suppressed a shiver, and glanced over at Finn to find him watching her quietly. Embarrassed at her own nerves, she looked away quickly and tried to put herself at ease.

“Can you imagine what a bunny from this forest must look like?” he asked in a low conversational voice. “I bet they have fangs.”

She looked over at him again and shook her head slightly. “They may indeed, I don’t think I want to meet anything from this forest other than the one I’m seeking,” she replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Still, it’s not as bad as the Scarlet Jungle. Everything in that place is a carnivore, I swear,” he said with a smile and gazed around at the towering trees as if he were strolling in a garden.

“You’ve been to the Scarlet Jungle?” Jala asked, eager for a distraction.

Finn gave a slight nod and pulled a flask from his saddlebags. “Naturally, that’s where I learned to use swords. It’s also where I developed my taste for Firewater.” He offered her the flask and took a long pull himself when she shook her head in refusal. “See, I’m originally from Avanti, but when I was sixteen or so I had a bit of a difficulty there. So my father takes me aside and tells me as long as I live by his coin under his roof I will obey what he says.” Finn paused and gave her a grin. “So, of course, I was packed that afternoon and gone by that night without a coin to my name or an idea where I was going.”

“I don’t even know how old you are now,” Jala pointed out when he paused for another drink.

“Twenty-six in a month or so,” he replied, grinning at the shock that must have shown on her face. “I know you likely thought me younger. I’m one of the older students, but I had to get the coins to enroll, so I spent a bit of time mucking about before I went for higher learning.”

“Mucking about?” she asked with peaked curiosity.

“Two years in the Firym army, let me tell you that is not easy for one outside of their nation to accomplish. When I had finished my enlistment there, I spent a year on a Serpent Ship and earned my armor. I never could have afforded Serpent bone if I hadn’t helped kill the bastards.” His voice had taken on a bardic tone as he spoke, and she found herself watching him in fascination.

“So that puts you at nineteen. There are seven years unaccounted for,” she prodded.

“Well, after I had proper armor, I decided I needed proper steel, so I went off to Arovan. The Hai’dia make the best metals, though the Firym will argue. Of course, the Firym will argue about anything, so that’s really beside the point. I enlisted in their army for about two years and learned the proper way of the Cavalry according to their beliefs. Which, by the way, is quite different from the Firym beliefs on Cavalry.” He took another sip from the flask and shifted his position in the saddle a bit, patting his horse’s neck. “That’s actually where I got this brute from. He is an Arovan courser. Since I had joined the army, I got the arms free for my two years of service and bought the horse with the coin I had earned. Then I decided since I was in the land of Knights anyway, I might as well learn to Joust.”

“I didn’t know you could Joust,” she broke in excitedly. “I didn’t see you in the Joust at the Spring Games.”

“Ahh, yes, well I was getting to that. By the time I went in for lance training, I was twenty one and had an ego that required its own living space. It was my first day on the training field, when I met someone around my own age that was quite possibly worse than I was, as far as arrogance goes. It was hate at first sight and every second of every day we were at each other’s throats and constantly competing. I was by far better with swords and he was unquestionably better with lances, though I never would have admitted it at the time. Luckily for me, he was attending the Academy and was only there for his break. I finished my training in the time he was away, and then I myself went on to Sanctuary.” His smile had widened as he told the story and he glanced over at Jala and gave a light chuckle.

“I hadn’t been in Sanctuary more than a week before I bumped into my bitter rival in a bar. I was already in my cups when he entered and didn’t quite notice the rather large individual sitting at a corner table. Naturally, I had to open my mouth, and it wasn’t long after I did that the entire tavern was in a brawl. In the course of it, I found myself pairing off against the big brute, and when I woke up all three of us were sitting comfortably in a Justicar holding cell, and my head felt like it was going to fall off. Not wanting to start another fight when I was outnumbered and had already been beaten rather badly, I tried another route and simply started a conversation. By the time we were released, Valor and I had come to the agreement that I wouldn’t enter the Joust and he wouldn’t enter Swords, and neither of us would ever brawl with Jail again.”

“But you and Valor are best friends; I can’t believe you hated each other,” she protested.

Finn gave a slight shrug and looked ready to reply but fell silent and held up a hand. He cocked his head and seemed to focus and then looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Jingling metal and footsteps,” he explained and pushed his horse up by Madren’s and signaled a halt for everyone.

I will watch from the shadows. If you have need of me, I will be close, Marrow said to her and moved swiftly from the trail, disappearing almost instantly into the gloom. Jala watched him go and swallowed back any protest. It was probably best that he be unseen, for Bendazzi were not welcome in many places.

“Nice to have him watching our backs,” Wisp offered quietly.

Jala gave a nod of agreement to Wisp and glanced back to Shade and Leah before urging her own mount forward. If what they had explained was true, the only people they would encounter in this forest were the witches. With only a bit of trepidation, she pushed her horse past Finn and Madren. This was her quest, after all, and it was only right that she face whatever was heading their way. She heard the rest of her group move forward and stop, but she didn’t look back.

Ahead of them on the trail a figure was emerging from the gloom. A tall woman in a faded scarlet dress approached slowly leading a small donkey behind her. She wore a hooded black cloak and walked with her head bent slightly, and at first Jala thought she was old. She straightened as she neared them and pulled the cloak back, revealing dark hair hanging loose about her shoulders. Small coins were braided into the locks and made a faint jingling noise as she moved. Her skin was dusky and smooth, and her large dark eyes surveyed them with open curiosity.

“Oh by the Aspects, she is still beaut…” Madren began, his voice cut off sharply with a loud crack followed by a thump. Jala looked back quickly to see Madren lying sprawled beside his horse and Finn shaking his hand slightly as he examined his knuckles.

“What in the name of the Aspects was that for?” Shade demanded as he dismounted and moved quickly to Madren’s fallen form.

“What? Did you want to wait for him to break out a box of drugged chocolates and propose to her? Better to stop him before he got himself killed,” Finn snapped.

“Um…guys, witch, remember,” Wisp said quietly, looking pointedly at the woman ahead of them.

Jala turned her gaze back to the witch deciding to let her friends work out their differences considering the company they were in. The dusky skinned woman looked amused at the spectacle and Jala took that as a good sign. She dismounted slowly and moved closer to the woman. “My name is Jala, I’m looking for the Oracle,” she said in a respectful tone, bowing her head to the woman.

“I am called Myzra the Traveler,” the woman replied with an answering nod. She eyed Jala with interest and dropped the lead to the donkey as she moved closer. “You have been brushed by death, little sister. You are nearly one of us,” Myzra’s voice was low and melodic.

“I have seen far more death than I like,” Jala agreed, trying to keep her eyes on the woman who was slowly walking a circle around her. Her gaze flicked to Finn, as he moved past the two of them and stopped by the little donkey, scratching the beast behind the ears and casually glancing at the bulky packs it carried.

“Are you one of the mages of the Tolanteer forest, Myzra?” Jala asked, hoping to keep the woman’s attention from Finn’s snooping.

Myzra gave a slight nod and stopped in front of Jala once more. “I am one of the five. I am not the one you seek, however. You want the Oracle, then. You wish to see Anthae the Seer.”

“Can you tell me where to find her?” Jala asked. She could see Finn behind the woman trying to catch her eye subtly. Carefully she turned her gaze toward him while trying to seem as though her attention was still focused on the witch. Finn nudged the donkey slightly with his hip giving her a better view of the packs and pointed down. Fingers protruded from below one of the canvas coverings, and Jala had to struggle to keep her expression from changing. Finn raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a look that held warning. He lightly tapped a sword to signal he would be ready if needed. If her other companions had noticed Myzra’s cargo, they gave no indication. Both Shade and Leah seemed occupied by trying to wake Madren quietly, and Wisp simply sat on her horse as silent as the trees beside her.

“He trespassed where he was not welcome,” Myzra said calmly when Jala’s eyes came to rest on her again. “Those who do not belong in Tolanteer do not live long.”

“We do not mean to trespass. I simply wish to speak with the Oracle. If that is not possible we will leave at once,” Jala replied, unsure what else she could say.

“For you who are nearly sister to us, it is possible. These others I will allow to live with the agreement that your young friend removes his hand from his sword now,” Myzra said in her same soothing voice and glanced back to give Finn a smile that held no warmth in it at all.

Finn moved his hand from the sword and gave a slight nod before moving from the donkey, as well. With a shrug to Jala, he returned to wait by the horses. “My apologies, Lady,” he said to Myzra as he passed.

Myzra gave a toss of her hand as if it were no concern. She looked back to Jala and then to Finn, and a flash of amusement crossed her face. “You will need a coin for passage,” she said to Jala. Jala blinked in confusion and started to reach for her coin purse, but the witch stopped her with a laugh. “No child, not that coin, one of these.” She reached up to her hair and pulled one of the small copper discs from a braid and handed it over to her. “Carry it on with you and if you see another of my sisters show her the coin and tell her who you seek and she will allow you to pass. You will find Anthae at the cottage just ahead,” Myzra said and moved away quietly to gather the donkey’s lead again. “Be careful what you ask of Anthae. Answers are often dangerous.” The witch smiled and began walking again, her gaze flickering across each in the group as she passed.

Jala watched her go and looked down to the worn copper coin in her hand, then moved back to her horse. As far as she could see there was nothing special about the coin other than it was a bit melted on the sides.

“Do you know what that is?” Finn asked quietly, his gaze on the coin, as well.

“A copper from Goswin, I suppose, though I’m not sure,” Jala answered as she dropped the coin into her cloak pocket.

“A dead man’s coin. They place them over the eyes before they bury or burn a corpse. Some cultures do anyway,” he corrected.

“She was wearing dozens of them and she had a bloody corpse on the donkey,” Jala said in a hoarse whisper, her nerves from earlier returning in a rush. Her eyes traveled to the path ahead of them, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She wondered what, exactly, she had led her friends into.

“Yep, she was easily the creepiest woman I’ve ever met,” Finn said and nudged his horse forward. He glanced back at her and gave her a devilish grin. “She had a sweet ass though.”

Jala groaned at the joke and rolled her eyes, giving a nervous chuckle. She looked over her shoulder and saw that they had managed to revive Madren and get him back on his horse. Shade gave her a nod, and she pushed her horse forward to ride beside Finn.

“Now where were we? Ah, yes, my male bonding with Valor and Jail,” Finn began.

By the time they reached their destination, Finn had once again fought away her nerves with his conversation. To her relief, they had not encountered any of the forest’s other denizens on their way, nor had she seen any sign of Marrow, though, and she was growing worried. The small cottage stood sheltered in a grove barely big enough for the six horses. Despite the long years since Goswin had fallen, it was in remarkably good repair with what looked to be fresh paint and a tidy thatch roof. Just beyond the edge of it, she could see the hint of a small garden and the faint smell of mint and thyme drifted to them on the breeze.

Jala rode forward, stopping a few feet from the cottage, and glanced around the grove once more just to be sure she hadn’t missed anyone in the shadows. She had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the Bendazzi, as well, but if he was nearby she saw no sign of it.

The door of the cottage opened as she dismounted. A slender woman stood framed in the doorway, the soft glow of candles behind her. She was taller than Myzra, with a proud bearing. Her silver hair was tied back from her face with a few braids hanging loose to brush her cheek. The coins of dead men dangled from the braids and Jala had to suppress a shudder as she watched them glint in the candlelight.

Stepping a few steps closer, Jala bowed her head respectfully. “Milady, my name is Jala. I am seeking Anthae the Seer.”

“And you have found her. You may enter. Your companions must wait,” Anthae said, her voice soft and barely above a whisper. The candlelight behind her gave shadows to her face and made it impossible to see her expression, but her voice had a welcoming note to it.

Jala nodded and handed her reins to Finn. He frowned at her as she turned toward the cottage and caught her hand. She looked back at him and smiled. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, hoping she was, in fact, telling the truth.

“You have any problems, yell and I’ll bring the door down,” he promised, and gave her hand a light squeeze before letting her go. Jala bit her lower lip and gave him a quick nod then headed toward the door. Anthae moved aside and let her pass before pulling the door shut behind the two of them. Jala looked around as she entered and felt herself relax a bit. The room was well lit by candles and a small fire burned in the fireplace. The cottage was tidy with comfortable furniture and the pleasant smell of drying herbs. It had a comforting feel to it and reminded her of her long ago home in Merro. Anthae motioned her to a chair and sat down across from her. Silently, the witch poured tea for the two of them and slid a cup toward Jala.

“Thank you,” Jala said, accepting the tea and trying hard not to stare at the woman. Her face was delicate with high cheekbones and full lips. She must have been beautiful in her youth, but some tragedy had made a ruin of her eyes. Terrible scars covered them from one side of her face to the other, and the eyes themselves were a solid milky white.

“Fingernails, I clawed them in a fit of madness after the failing.” Anthae said in her whispery voice as if she could feel Jala’s eyes upon her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jala spoke hastily and dropped her gaze.

Anthae gave a mirthless chuckle. “No need for that, child. Now tell me, what is it that brings you to our lands? I could sense you approaching, and I could feel the importance, but I don’t know what you believe you need from me.”

“I was told you could answer a question for me, so I came to ask,” Jala replied, keeping the answer as honest as she could. She had the sense that Anthae was one that preferred simple over flattering.

“Well than I would hear the question. If there is truly just one question you cannot find the answer for, you are a rare child indeed,” the witch prompted, sounding somewhat amused.

“I want to know who I truly am. Who my true parents were, that is,” Jala said, her voice quiet. It had seemed such an important thing days ago, but now after Myzra’s warning, she found herself almost fearing the answer.

Anthae gave a slight nod and reached below the small table and pulled up a white porcelain bowl. She sat the bowl carefully on the table between the two of them and poured some of the hot water she had used for tea into it. The air above the bowl steamed, rising in delicate waves above the water. Anthae leaned forward and took one of Jala’s hands in her own. The witch’s grasp was icy to the touch, and Jala fought the urge to check for a pulse. “Look into the water, child. We will seek the answer for which you have traveled so far,” Anthae said as she placed her other hand on the rim of the bowl and slowly sank her fingers into the near boiling water.

The water seemed to cloud at her touch and turned a milky white. After but a few breaths, it began to swirl and colors bloomed in its depths. Jala leaned forward and stared down into it. Her mother stood there, young and terrified in a house that had once been fine. Beyond her, closer to the door, two men argued. One wore a uniform while the other was old and grey. Near the wall, a woman stood crying, clutching an apron to her face, her shoulder shaking. Jala watched as the argument grew more heated between the two men and the one in the uniform shoved the elderly one back out of the doorway. The soldier or guard, Jala couldn’t tell which, pushed past and seized her mother by the arm. The terrified girl her mother had been screaming and tried to pull away but the man drug her from the house, deaf to her terror.

“In Merro, when a debt could not be paid, a child was often taken,” Anthae said quietly.

Jala looked up from the water and watched the witch. It was obvious from her eyes the woman was blind, yet she seemed to see despite that.

“I see what is in the water in my mind; I see what is in this world through my Familiar. Look behind me girl, in the rafters,” the witch urged. Jala looked as directed and spotted the bird after a moments search. It was built like an owl with feathers the color of the night sky. “Now that you understand, focus upon the bowl again so that you might have your answer,” Anthae said quietly, her tone somber.

Jala gave a slight nod and remained silent as she turned her gaze back to the bowl and watched her mother drug off toward slavery. The water swirled again and cleared almost as quickly showing an image of her mother beaten and bloody lying on her side on the floor. Her clothing was torn so badly, Jala was sure Anthae had spared her the sight of her mother being raped. A man stood above her, sleek and handsome and obviously Elder Blood. He was wiping his hands on a towel and smiling down at the crumpled form of her mother. He kicked her lightly with his foot, and her mother rolled away, her torn clothing trailing behind her as she sought to escape further abuse.

“Traven Merrodin,” Anthae said her tone flat. “He was second son of the High Lord and controlled the slave plantations. There has rarely been a darker man born than that one. May he rot forever in the Darklands for his sins.”

Jala glanced up at the witch and back to the water and watched as abuse after abuse was inflicted on the terrified girl in the vision. She felt her stomach knot as she watched the suffering her mother endured. Her heart lurched as the water swirled again and the image of her father appeared. He seemed as fierce as Havoc had said he was. With brutal efficiency, he cut down the guards of the plantation and met the young Lord Merrodin in combat. It was obvious when he lifted her mother from the floor that some time had passed between her captivity and rescue. The abused, broken girl’s stomach was well rounded with child now.

“You know the rest of the story, Lady Merrodin; the young Fionaveir carried the girl off and hid her right under their nose in Merro. He raised a beautiful little girl as his own. With love, he taught her honor and values until the fall of Merro.” Anthae’s hand slid out of the water as she spoke and the vision died. She looked up at Jala as if her blind eyes could see. “You have so much work ahead of you, child.”

“Only school,” Jala replied with a sigh. “And then I’m not sure what, they never told me what came after the Academy, even if I am the product of that rape it doesn’t matter. Merro is gone, it’s just a wasteland, and I’m nothing but a former slave’s bastard.”

“You will rebuild Merro, child. I can see this, though it is as if through a fog. You will be Lady Merrodin, and I can tell you that your people are not lost to death. The Lords of Oblivion hold their souls and if you are determined, you may yet have them back.”

Jala’s head snapped up, her sadness evaporating like morning dew. “My parents, you are saying my parents can be brought back?” she asked, hope rising in her.

Anthae gave a nod and cocked her head to one side. “They can, I see it, though as I said, it is through a thick fog. You can do it. I’m just not sure how you will do it. Death is a greedy mistress and she does not like to release souls, but for the Lords of Oblivion holding tight to their souls the people of Merro would be far past recovery.” Anthae paused and took a sip of the now cool tea, her expression distant and thoughtful. “This is not the vision that I see most clearly when I look at you, though, the other I see I do not understand at all.”

“What else do you see?” Jala asked with a voice thick with emotion. She wasn’t sure how she would accomplish restoring the people of Merro, but there was no doubt in her mind that she would.

Anthae held up her hand and a round gold disc appeared in it. “This child, though I don’t understand. Both sides of the coin mean much to you that I can see clearly.” She set the coin down before Jala. “You may look at one or the other, but you will never see the two together. No more than you can look upon both sides of that coin at once.”

Jala looked down at the coin confused and examined the crossed swords engraved in silver on the intricate gold coin. With hesitation, she lifted the coin and turned it to look at the other side. A badger was engraved there with such careful detail there was no mistaking what it was. Jala turned the coin back over and examined the swords more carefully. Along the blades edge, the silver seemed a bit darker, almost tarnished. She bit her lower lip and nodded to Anthae. “I think I understand, but I hope I’m wrong,” she said quietly.

“If it is a painful answer it is most likely the true answer, child. An Immortal’s life is a dangerous one,” Anthae said, her voice full of sympathy.

“What can I offer you for your help, Anthae?” Jala asked, hoping whatever the witch required would be within her means to grant.

“Succeed where I failed, child, and I will be content,” Anthae replied. She regarded Jala again for a moment and spoke in a low whisper as if afraid of being overheard. “One among your companions bears the betrayer’s blood. Be wary, child, and be very careful of who you trust. Now is not the time to be Lady Merrodin. You must gain more strength first. You will know when you must take up that title, but until then, you must tread very carefully. You should go now, dawn grows close, and you have miles to travel.”

Jala rose at the dismissal then paused as Anthae took her hand lightly. She looked down at the witch and Anthae gave her hand a faint squeeze. “Words of wisdom for you, child. Let no one tell you what you are capable of. Search your heart and find that answer yourself. Others will doubt you. Never doubt yourself. To doubt is to fail.” The witch released her hand and motioned her to the door.

“Thank you, Anthae” Jala said quietly, her tone sincere. She stepped out of the house and Finn quickly moved to her side. The others watched her with open curiosity, but she shook her head. “I’ll explain later, I promise, I need to sort things out a bit first, though. It was a bit cryptic. For now, I’d just like to get out of these woods.” The excuse would buy her some time, but eventually her friends would want to know what they had ridden through a cursed forest for. She had no idea what she would tell them but at least she would have some time to think of something.

“Are you OK? You’re pale,” Finn said, his voice filled with concern. She gave a weak nod in reply and slipped the gold coin into her pocket, as she tried to keep her eyes from his swords with their darkened Barllen edge.

Chapter 24

Gaelyn

With closed eyes, Charm brought to mind the image of Sanctuary’s rainbow lights. He took a deep breath and imagined he could smell fresh bread and spiced meat rather than his own sweat and horse. The ground beneath him was stony and he shifted his weight, trying to find some comfort.

“You really are quite soft, aren’t you?” Lutheron’s voice came quiet with no small amount of amusement in the words.

Charm cracked an eye open regarding the man darkly. They were at a small camp in the middle of nowhere. All Charm could say for sure was that he was in Gaelyn. For the past week, he had been drug from village to village examining the dead. There had been no sign of Solace or Hawk, and as far as Charm could tell from the carnage the rangers were likely dead. “I can sleep like a baby in a gutter or on a tiled roof. I can live off rats for days and you won’t hear a word of complaint. I can drink ale in the foulest of bars and I can go days without sleep. I am not soft. I am city born, and there is a difference,” he replied, his tone sounding peevish even to himself.

One of the wolves lounging on the far side of their small camp fire gave a growling chuckle. Charm regarded the shifter and considered a wolf skin cloak. Lutheron gave a slight nod and tossed another piece of firewood into the flames. “I used to be city born,” he said quietly, not even glancing Charm’s way.

Charm regarded Lutheron with doubt. Over the course of the past week, he had come to believe Lutheron had slithered out of the shadows rather than something as mundane as being born in a city. The man seemed purely inhuman. Nothing fazed him. Nothing. They could find the body of a child, torn and bloody, and Lutheron would regard it as if it were a sample of meat in a butcher’s shop. His demeanor never changed from what Charm could tell. “Which city?” Charm asked. If nothing else, he would get conversation to distract him from the mosquitoes and rocks.

Leaning back on his arms, Lutheron regarded the bright starlit night. “It was beyond the Barrier, and it was a very long time ago.” His gaze seemed lost for a time, and the camp was silent as they waited to see if he would continue. Charm himself knew very little about Lutheron. He didn’t think many did know much about the man, except perhaps Caspian. “I was young when I was locked in here, maybe seventeen. I still remember what freedom tastes like though. I can remember living without a constant eye over my shoulder.”

“It’s what you make of it,” Charm replied. He didn’t meet Lutheron’s gaze, but he could feel the dark eyes upon him. The topic was a delicate one with most Immortals, and Charm usually avoided it. “If you consider it a prison, all of your thoughts will be toward escape. If you consider it home, all of your thoughts will be on improving it. We both know escape is impossible, so it’s better to accept it.” He shifted again and succeeded in dislodging a rock from beneath him. He gave a small sigh of contentment at the relief of the gouging and dared a glance at Lutheron. “Sure we have some neighbors that are pretty bad, but all in all, the Guardians could have done worse for us. At least they gave us the means to survive if we choose to. They could have locked us in a wasteland. They could have removed our magic entirely, but they didn’t.”

“I’m not sure they could have removed the magic entirely from some of us,” Lutheron objected, but his tone was mild as usual. He was showing no more emotion than he did examining dead children.

Charm gave a shrug. “They could have taken mine. I don’t have much in the way of magic. Most of what I do, anyone could do with the proper learning.”

“You are supposed to be the sneakiest individual in the prison,” Lutheron said as he prodded the fire sending sparks dancing into the air.

“That’s debatable, for there are quite a few rogues in this prison. My master used to say when the world ended it would be filled with cockroaches and thieves because both know well how to hide when light is shined their way.” He pulled a flask from his cloak and took a small sip. He offered the flask to Lutheron and was rewarded with a brief flash of amazement on the swordsman’s face as he tasted the contents.

“Water?” Lutheron asked in disbelief.

Charm gave a chuckle and shrugged. “I don’t partake of alcohol unless the situation demands it,” he explained.

Across the fire from them the youngest of the three Shifters sat up. His nose twitched as he scented the air and the hackles on his back slowly rose. His companion stirred from sleep his nose quivering, as well. “Blood,” growled the first, the word so guttural it was barely recognizable.

“Check our sentry, Charm, be quick and quiet,” Lutheron ordered as he handed back the flask. He stood and kicked dirt over the small fire dousing the flames.

Charm rose and faded into the shadows, musing again how everyone seemed to believe if you could hide well in one shadow you could hide well in all of them. It wasn’t the darkness that had been proving a problem for him the past week. He knew how to conceal himself well enough. It was the bloody terrain. In the city, one didn’t have branches that would break if you stepped wrong. Alleys might have trash, but they rarely concealed holes or root snags such as the wilderness did. Moving far more slowly than he would have in his own environment, Charm edged toward the area he had last known the sentry to be in. It was a rough guess at best. The wolves tended to roam as they guarded. With a bit of luck, he would find the Shifter dining on some helpless animal that wandered too near. Though he doubted the two Shifters by the fire would have bestirred themselves over the scent of rabbit’s blood, unless it was to go claim a portion of the kill.

It seemed hours before he found the boy’s body, though Charm knew it had likely just been minutes. Sneaking and moving slowly had a way of warping time, making every minute drag by. The Shifter had reverted to his human form in death, and Charm found himself gaping at the boy’s age. He didn’t look more than twelve at best. He scanned the area for any sign of what had killed the child, and looked back down at the body. The expression on the pale face was peaceful. He hadn’t even realized death was coming for him. It was a near impossible thing to surprise a Shifter, especially when they were on guard. Snarls arose from the camp behind him, the viscous growls of wolves in combat.

“Charm, return now. Forget stealth and run,” Lutheron’s voice cut through the growls like a commander on a battlefield.

“Abandon stealth?” Charm repeated in a hoarse whisper, completely bewildered. He wondered if Lutheron had listened to him at all when he spoke earlier. A good rogue survived because he knew when to scurry into the dark. Now seemed a very good time for scurrying. With a final glance at the boy’s body he turned and, despite all instincts, ran openly back to camp. Another of the Shifter’s was on the ground with blood gushing from several gashes across the neck and face. Charm could see their last scout tangling in the air as if ripping a limb from something, but there didn’t appear to be anything there.

“Come here, Charm,” Lutheron barked as if giving commands to a dog. Charm regarded him for the briefest of moments and then moved quickly to Lutheron’s side. If acting like a dog was what kept him alive, he would bark on command. Without actually being able to see whatever the Shifter fought, he found himself feeling uncomfortably helpless. It was a situation he wasn’t familiar with. A shrill cry came from the last Shifter as the creature’s body was nearly ripped in two. Charm watched its body fly as though hurled with great effort and land bouncing on the ground, yards from their camp.

“What in the hell is going on?” Charm gasped, hoping Lutheron had the answer because he most certainly didn’t. Shifters were hardy creatures and whatever was out there was killing them as if they were lambs to the slaughter.

“Try to stay beside me, it’s the only option you have for survival,” Lutheron said in his damnably calm voice. Charm watched in disbelief as the swordsman calmly planted his sword point down into the ground and removed his glove.

“Won’t you be needing that for fighting?” Charm asked, motioning at the sword frantically. Lutheron was a legend amongst sword masters. It was quite unsettling to see him setting aside his weapon when he obviously needed to be swinging it with vigor at whatever was slaughtering their comrades.

Lutheron ignored him and held his bare palm out flat as if signaling the attackers to stop. The camp fell completely silent, not even the dying shifter giving voice to its pain. Magic began to ebb from Lutheron, and the hairs on the back of Charm’s neck rose in response. At first it was like being startled with simply the quickening of his pulse. It grew gradually from the barest of unease to gut wrenching terror. Charm felt his muscles tense and turned to bolt. A hand shot out and grabbed him by the back of the cloak. He let out a cry and struggled, trying desperately to flee whatever horrible magic Lutheron was using. The hold on him was like a vice, and his feet did nothing more than tear at the earth below him. He kicked and squirmed as his instincts screamed for him to flee. The hold on his cloak increased and he began to sob, a choked painful sound, more animal than human.

The magic coursed from Lutheron again and his knees buckled, his tears, sobs, and cries of despair were the only things in his world now. Nothing else outside his own terror and misery existed. He huddled there at Lutheron’s feet, bundled into his cloak too terrified to look up, waiting for his death, waiting for Lutheron to send him to whatever hell had spawned him. He heard a brief scream nearby and braced himself waiting to feel the sharp tearing claws as the poor Shifters had. Nothing happened.

Gradually he became aware he was no longer shaking and the sobs had stopped. The vice-like grip was gone from him, as well. Slowly, he unrolled from his cloak and dared to look up. Lutheron was crouched over something, and the night was still and clear around them. The smell of blood was thick in the air, but that was nothing new to Charm. He unfolded himself completely and wiped the tears from his face. The unnatural terror was gone now, and anger and shame warred for the void it had left.

“What the hell was that?” Charm demanded, his outrage filling the silence. Even when he had been a child, he had never felt so foolish. He had never been the sort to cower and sob.

Lutheron looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and slowly stood. He had the audacity to smile then, and Charm felt his anger boiling. “You’re welcome,” Lutheron replied with a smirk.

“What? You send me shivering to the ground like an infant and seem to believe I should thank you?”

“The fear was directed at the creatures, actually. You were not my intent. I did keep you from fleeing, though, and surely that deserves thanks. Would that I could have used it before our scouts died, but I could not have judged how they would react. Most flee when frightened, some cower and cry, and then those rare few will attack. I didn’t think we needed Shifters trying to maul us as well as these things.” Lutheron stood as he spoke and motioned down at the crumpled body at his feet.

Charm moved forward slowly to look at the thing. His anger was still up, but there didn’t seem to be much use in pursuing the matter. His stiffened posture loosened a bit as he studied the creature. His anger was slowly giving way to disbelief. It was small, perhaps a little over three feet. If it had been human, he would have guessed the age around six. It was most certainly not human though. The talons on the creature’s hands and feet were close to two inches long and caked with blood and fur from the Shifters. Charm prodded it gently with his foot, rolling the corpse over onto its back. The nerveless limbs flopped as the body rolled and the sightless blue eyes fixed on the night sky above. It had been a female, and if not for the talons and sharpened teeth it would have been an adorable child. She had blond hair so rich in color it resembled spun gold, and chubby cheeks that would have shown dimples when she smiled. “Demon blooded?” Charm asked hesitantly.

“Does she look like one of yours to you, Charm?” Lutheron asked mildly, his dark eyes fixed on Charm.

Charm shifted and frowned. No one in this prison knew him for what he was, with the exception of one man, and he sincerely doubted that person had ever had a conversation with Lutheron. “No, but demon blood shows itself in different ways,” he answered quietly.

Lutheron surveyed the surrounding trees and studied the direction they had been heading. He inhaled deeply and looked back to Charm. Wordlessly, he wiped his blade clean on the child’s body and put it away. “Get it out of your system before we move on. I won’t answer questions once we’ve left here,” he said at last, his gaze fixed on the night sky rather than Charm.

“How do you know what I am?” Charm asked without pause.

“Because I can read your fears. You are afraid of being known for the half-breed you are. It’s not as if anyone in this prison has a pedigree anymore but you are a special case. You are an abomination in your own eyes, so you fear discovery. You also fear being known as a Guardian.” Lutheron paused and chuckled lightly, and Charm felt all blood drain from his face. “Yes, I know what you are Charm, and I will keep your secret. If I told anyone you were a prison warden, they would kill you and bring you back from death just to kill you again.”

“How could you know that?” Charm demanded. He had been so careful and had avoided using magics just for this purpose. He had lived a simple life among them, never giving any of the prisoners’ reason to suspect he was anything but one of them. To have this man so casually toss his darkest secrets back into his face was something he couldn’t quite find the word for. There were so many words that could describe this situation, but the one he finally settled on was terrifying. Lutheron was right, if others discovered he was a Guardian a clean death would be the best he could hope for, and the least likely fate to be granted.

Lutheron gave him a smile and calmly held up his hand. Claw marks raked across the back of it, three deep furrows into the pale skin with blood dripping from the wound. It wasn’t red as it should be. It gleamed like metal in the moonlight, silver droplets running down Lutheron’s pale hand. He raised and lowered his eyebrows at Charm and gave him a predatory smile. “I see by your expression you understand,” Lutheron said.

“You’re a Divine,” Charm replied in a voice barely above a whisper. An Aspect was a god to the commons but not too impressive to an Immortal. Depending on the Aspect they represented, they could be quite powerful but still not too far above that of a powerful mage by the standards of the Houses. A Divine was another matter entirely. A Divine was a creature of legend even to Immortals. They did not simply represent an Aspect of life. They had complete and utter control over it and according to stories, there was nothing you could do on the matter. “You are the Divine of Fear?” Charm asked, his throat suddenly dry.

“And Nightmares,” Lutheron agreed with a nod as if they were discussing the weather. “And these creatures are remarkably hard to frighten. Much more, and I think I would have caused you serious harm. I am not sure how much more your heart could have handled, by the way your pulse was racing. These things, however, were different. It took that much just to get them to respond.”

“But how did you get trapped by us, by the Guardians, that is? We didn’t intend for any Divines to be here,” Charm asked, not willing to let the topic pass so easily.

“You managed to get three of us, actually, and one that is half divine,” Lutheron replied. He was kneeling again and prodding the sword wound on the creature’s body. With a frown, he raised his hand back to his nose and sniffed lightly at the blood. His frown deepened and he looked around the clearing with a thoughtful expression. “No scent to the blood at all. It’s the Shifters blood that is fouling the air. These things have no scent whatsoever. I know there was more than one, and I had planned on being able to scent the others by their wounds. Pity they killed our horses. We will need to move soon.”

Charm turned in surprise to where the horses had been tied. Both beasts lay sprawled on the ground, clearly quite dead. He hadn’t even noticed the loss yet. He looked back at Lutheron and around the camp. The Divine was correct; they would need to move soon. He had also said he wouldn’t answer any more questions once they had left this area, though. “Who are the other two Divines? And what half-blood?” he asked quickly before Lutheron had a chance to move.

Lutheron glanced up and smiled. “Like a dog with a bone, aren’t you,” he replied mildly. With a flick of his fingers, he stored the creature’s body in a gem and stood back up. He gave his hand a cursory glance and watched the last signs of the claw wounds fading with his regeneration. Apparently pleased with the healing, he pulled his glove back on. “War of course. He followed willingly. All of his favorite toys were coming here. Death naturally, though I don’t think she truly intended to be trapped. I still believe she thought herself powerful enough simply to walk back out of the Barrier. Then me, of course, I was young, as I said, newly risen to Divine, and I simply didn’t know any better.” He began to gather his gear as he spoke quickly rolling the bedroll and gathering his pack. Charm took the hint and began gathering his own things quickly. He flicked a glance to the dead Shifters and wondered what Lutheron meant to do about their dead comrades.

“And the half-blood?” Charm asked.

“Oh I think you know her. She isn’t the best loved in here and has a tendency of creating little nuisances, although I think she has outdone herself this time. These creatures promise to be much worse than the Bendazzi or Serpents. I think the Genji goblins were more a joke than anything serious, but they were her children as well,” Lutheron answered. With a final look around, he began to walk south.

Charm looked back to the bodies and hurried after Lutheron. “Shouldn’t we bury them or something?” he asked.

Lutheron glanced over his shoulder and gave a slight shake of his head. “The longer we are out here in the open, the more of a chance you will die, Charm. They choose to live like wolves and no one buries a wolf,” Lutheron spoke with finality, and it was clear that he had no intention of changing his mind, so Charm let the matter rest. He wasn’t happy about leaving the scouts untended, but he wasn’t in the position to argue either.

“Where are we headed?” Charm asked after they had walked a short distance. To him, it seemed the best course of action would be to return to Fionahold and hand over the body as well as their report. Lutheron, however, appeared to have other plans.

“To Eldagar where you finally get to understand why you are here,” Lutheron replied, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“The fortress city?” Charm asked in surprise. Eldagar was the only landmark of consequence left in Gaelyn. The city had outlasted by centuries the House that had built it. It had stood solid against siege after siege, and finally it had been treachery and poison within their own house that had ended the Gaelyn Bloodline. As far as Charm knew, the commons had kept Eldagar as their center of commerce in Gaelyn, and the city was thriving.

“The path of carnage is leading directly to Eldagar. If I’m correct in my guessing, the city has already fallen. So we will soon find out how stealthy you really are. You keep saying you are better in a city, so I’m sending you into a city. We need to know if the creatures are there,” Lutheron answered, his pace never slowing, his tone never changing.

“How am I supposed to know if they are there? They can’t be seen, apparently, and they have no scent,” Charm objected.

“I suggest you look for dead people. They don’t seem to be too discriminating when disposing of their victims,” Lutheron replied.

“Wonderful,” Charm sighed. He gazed up at the stars and wondered briefly if this was Lutheron’s idea of punishment for being a Guardian. Well, if he truly was the Divine of Fear, he was getting a lovely bit of the emotion now.

“Once you have scouted the city, return to the Fionahold to report, I will see you as far as the city walls and then there are other matters I must attend to,” Lutheron said.

“You are leaving me there alone?” Charm tried to keep the dismay out of his voice. At this rate, by the time he returned to the Fionahold he would have no dignity remaining to him at all. “What other matters could possibly be more important than invisible man-eating creatures swarming over Gaelyn,” he demanded, trying to sound as steady as possible.

Lutheron chuckled, a sound that Charm was quickly equating with humiliation. “While I have been discriminating in my actions since being locked here, others have not. I go to tend to matters involving my fellow Divine’s gift upon this world.” Apparently sensing the questions on Charm’s lips, he continued. “War has sired a line, and one of the children of that line will need assistance. I will say no more on the matter.”

“What should I tell Caspian when I return? He will expect you to be with me,” Charm protested. Dignity aside, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of being left in Eldagar. It was a feeble attempt to be sure, to try to play on Lutheron’s sense of duty, but it was the only option he saw remaining.

Lutheron gave him a reassuring smile that grated on Charm worse than any of his laughter had. “You will be fine, Charm. You are the best rogue that I’ve seen since I’ve been here and I have been watching closely. If I remained with you, it is assured that we would be caught. While I am a Divine, even we have limitations. I am powerful, but not all-powerful, and sneaking is not my strong point.” His voice was calm and his smile gentle. Charm hated both.

He gave a slight nod in response and remained silent. It wasn’t like him to be this nervous, and he had never been afraid to work alone. It was the idea of an enemy that he couldn’t find that had him so unmanned. It was like Hemlock on a larger more terrible scale. To know death lurked nearby, and no possible way of knowing where it was. He gave a deep sigh, pulled his flask from his pocket, and took a long pull. For the first time since the barrier went up, he found himself wishing he carried something other than water in the flask.

Chapter 25

Southern Goswin

“If we go south any farther, we are going to be in Nerathane and the dragons don’t exactly welcome visitors,” Shade pointed out. They had come to a stop on a small rise between the old forest and the thick growth of the new forest.

“Rivana is our best bet,” Leah said, speaking for one of the few times she had since they had left Sanctuary. The woman’s mood had seemed dark for most of the journey, and Jala had decided it was best simply to let her be. Leah was not the sort you gave a hug and asked if she wanted to talk.

Finn gazed around the forest, his eyes roving hungrily as if a path would present itself if he searched long enough. “We are a good ways south of where we came in,” he pointed out and gave a long sigh. “I don’t care for the thought of provoking the dragons either, so Rivana it is, I suppose.”

Jala remained silent, simply watching them as they debated. Her companions had a much better grasp of the situation here. While she was learning about the various cultures in the Academy, she hadn’t believed dragons actually existed. She knew Nerathane’s monarch called herself the Queen of Dragons, rather than Lady Nerathane, but she had thought it simply a title, not literal truth. From the way they were speaking, she expected a fire breathing monster to break from the forest any moment.

“Whatever we are doing we best do it soon. We spent a lot of time getting this far south, and we have barely three hours of daylight left,” Wisp said, her gaze on the new growth where the souls of the dead were supposedly bound. Since Madren had spoken of the walking dead, Wisp had regarded the trees with a mixture of dread and respect that bordered on fanaticism.

“Rivana it is then,” Shade said with resignation. “This far south we should come out near the border of Nerathane as well,” he added and kicked his horse into a slow trot. Wisp quickly moved her own mount up beside his in order to earth craft the worst of the tangle from their path.

“Have you ever seen an actual dragon?” Jala asked Finn as they moved to follow, her eyes locked on the southern sky.

Finn gave an amused snort. “A few times. They are large, bitchy, and horribly arrogant. Rather like a High Lord with scales,” he replied.

“It hardly seems fair that you should fault anyone else for arrogance,” Shade called over his shoulder.

“Its confidence that I project, Shade, you simply don’t have enough experience with either to tell them apart,” Finn shot back.

Jala rolled her eyes and silently prayed to Fortune for anything that would keep them from bickering. “I’ll be happy to get back to Sanctuary,” she sighed.

You and I both, this forest is damned.

Jala started in her saddle and looked around quickly for Marrow; she hadn’t seen the Bendazzi in so long that she had given up searching for him. “Where are you?” She asked in a low voice. Finn glanced her direction but apparently realized who she spoke to and went back to watching their path.

To your right, by the stand of oak. The game here is wrong, tainted. Marrow moved from the oaks as he spoke, his coat reverting back to the white and silver as he moved.

“I missed you,” Jala admitted with a smile as he moved to pace alongside her horse. Fortunately, Valor had chosen well when he bought the gelding and a single snort of distaste was the only reaction the beast gave to the Bendazzi’s presence.

“Welcome back,” Finn said quietly to the Bendazzi. “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.”

I followed the witch for a time. She hunts the borders and shows no interest in four-legged game, Marrow told her, and from Finn’s nod he had spoken to him, as well.

“He says the game here is tainted,” Jala told Finn. She had spent a good deal of time watching for any signs of life, and so far had not even seen a squirrel.

“Not surprising. This place seems damned all the way around,” Finn replied with a shrug. He kept his mount’s pace slow, allowing the others to draw ahead slowly. She remained in the back with him and gave him a curious look. “I don’t care how cryptic the witch’s words were, I know your intelligence. You have it sorted out by now,” he said in a low voice.

“I do,” she admitted and paused considering what to say. They all deserved an explanation, but Anthae’s words about Betrayer’s blood had her nervous. She knew Finn’s father served House Avanti, but Finn himself showed allegiance nowhere. “It was not at all what I expected,” she added lamely, still not finding the words she needed.

“And it has you upset. I can feel your nerves. You are hiding it well, but you have been quite worried since you left the cottage.”

She gave him a rueful smile and sighed. “Rather hard to hide things from you.”

“I wish you didn’t think you needed to. Ask me whatever you like. I’ll answer you in truth. I have nothing to hide. There are a lot of things that I have done that I don’t like to admit to, but nothing I won’t admit to,” Finn replied.

“What kind of trouble did you get into in Avanti that forced you from home,” she asked with a raised eyebrow, hoping she could get away with changing the topic for now

“I bedded Cassia, and her father walked in during the last bit of it. Probably would have gone better if I would have stopped when he walked in, but Cassia hadn’t noticed him and I was close to finished.” he grinned and gave a shrug. “You know how Valor says, ‘live without regrets.’” He gave a snort of amusement. “Bedding her was one of my few regrets, but I was sixteen and wasn’t thinking with my mind at the time. She is very pretty on the outside. It isn’t till you get to know her that you realize she is a venomous bitch.” He glanced at her and gave another chuckle. “You are staring at me as if I just admitted to murder.”

Jala cleared her throat and quickly fixed her expression. She nodded slightly and remained silent. It wasn’t so much the thought of Finn with Cassia that had shocked her, but the surge of jealousy at the thought of him with another woman. This was ridiculous, for to her he had confessed to bedding nearly every barmaid in the whole bloody city of Sanctuary. To feel jealous of Finn’s sexual exploits made as much sense as being angry that the sky was blue. “Well, I could see how that would cause difficulty,” she said at last her, tone perfectly neutral.

He laughed loudly enough to cause Wisp to turn and regard them from her vantage in the lead. Jala waved back to the Fae with what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned a glare to Finn. “I don’t see what is so funny.”

“You are jealous,” he pointed out with a great deal of amusement.

“I have absolutely no reason to be jealous,” she objected, trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Regardless, you are jealous of something I did ten years ago,” he pressed.

Jala gave him an annoyed look and turned back to the rough path. “Ridiculous,” she said with a sniff. At least she had succeeded in changing the topic, she mused. Although given the present line of conversation, it was possible that talking about the witch would be preferable.

“Not long after Cassia and my ordeal there, I moved on to Firym as I told you. They are not nearly as prickly about such things in the Scarlet Jungle. In fact, they are rather open about it, and I was somewhat exotic to them, so, needless to say, my bed was seldom cold. And the women, my god you should see them. Almost all of them are red heads and with such curves.” Finn mimicked a very robust female figure with his hands and let his voice trail off sounding far away and dreamy. He let out a long sigh as if in longing. “There aren’t many women like that in Sanctuary. You can get a Firym girl to do things that a city girl wouldn’t even…”

“All right, I was jealous,” Jala snapped, cutting him off before he could continue. “I don’t know why I was. It’s hardly rational, but I was, and your talk about the perfect women of Firym really isn’t helping,” she added, her voice rising a bit with the last.

Finn broke into peals of laughter and leaned hard against his saddle horn. He turned to look at her, his grin full and showing perfect white teeth. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist teasing you. The Firym women are really not that perfect. In fact, they are quite mean if you get down to it. Bossy too. Don’t ever argue with a Firym,” he said through muffled laughter. “I don’t think anyone has ever shown jealousy over me before. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway. It’s rather endearing, really. I doubt any woman has ever actually cared enough to be jealous. If I lost interest, they moved on.” He had calmed his laughter but his grin was still there.

Jala gave him a dry expression. “Most likely they were jealous and you simply didn’t notice or care,” she said stiffly.

His grin softened a bit and he gave her a wink. “I noticed you were, that has to count for something,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at him and tried to ignore his smile. It wasn’t fair that someone should have so much natural charm. If she truly worked at it and focused on nothing else she might be able to stay irritated with him, but it simply wasn’t worth the effort. “That does count for something,” she agreed finally.

“It counts for a lot, actually. Normally, I would have bedded you and moved on by now,” Finn replied easily.

She stared at him in mute outrage, her eyes blazing. “Well, would I have had anything to say about that?” she snapped.

“If you were the typical girl, yes, and it would have most likely been, ‘Oh god, Finn, do that again please,’” he replied, his grin appearing once more.

Jala narrowed her eyes, giving him a stony glare. “I am not typical,” she growled.

“I know. I had every intention of bedding you the night you helped me at the Spring Games. You had virgin written all over you, so I took you out for drinks thinking that it would make the process easier.” He slowed his horse again giving their companions an even greater lead. “The fact that you were Shade’s new kitten was simply icing on the cake. While I don’t hate Shade, he is a bit too self-righteous, and it was obvious he was rather taken with you. He’d been dragging you around with him everywhere. Nothing sweeter than bedding his kitten while he was busy being sold to the Avanti, as far as I thought, at the time. It wasn’t until I talked with you for a while that I decided not to. I decided I cared what you thought about me and chose to try friendship instead. That’s not a path I generally consider. As I said at Sovann’s, I don’t have female friends. I have women I haven’t slept with yet,” he said in a quiet voice.

She stared at him unsure if she should be shocked or angry at his confession. “What about Wisp, she is your friend,” she pointed out coldly.

“Wisp started out as Jail’s friend, and after I got to know her better, I accepted her as one of us and stopped sleeping with her,” he replied casually.

Jala’s jaw dropped open and her gaze flicked between Wisp and Finn and then settled on Finn. “Stopped?” she asked dumbly.

Finn smirked and nodded. “That was about two years ago. Wisp generally keeps her exploits out of the hall now. Less complicating that way.”

“Am I the only one that isn’t sleeping with someone?” she asked in amazement. Where she had been raised, both in Merro and in the Temple, people waited until marriage, or if they didn’t wait, they certainly didn’t let it become gossip.

“I’m pretty sure Shade is still as pure as new fallen snow. That would explain why he is so bitchy all the time. He will end up waiting until marriage, though, and won’t do a thing unless his daddy tells him to,” Finn replied. “And Madren, oh, Madren is definitely a virgin.” His gaze falling on the distant riders. He gave a shake of his head and shuddered. “And will likely die that way,” he added after a moment.

“Why would you admit to this? Why would you tell me all of this? Surely you know this is going to change how I act around you now. I was kissing you yesterday morning. Now I can’t even think about kissing you without wondering if you are just looking for entertainment.” She shook her head at him, wishing he had just kept silent. With a long sigh, she looked away from him and chewed on her lower lip. She should have known better than to allow herself to think of Finn in any way other than a friend. This wasn’t his fault. He had been honest with her from the beginning. She was upset now, and it was no one’s fault but her own. She still couldn’t understand why he would do it, though, had he noticed her attraction and was trying to warn her.

Finn gave her a nod and a smile. “My confession has probably made my life a lot more difficult in the near future, but I was trying to prove a point to you. If I can admit to what I just did, surely you can tell me what the witch said. It can’t be worse than what I told you, and I want to know what she said that upset you.” He gave her another wink. “I told you there wasn’t anything I would hold back from you, Jala. I’ll admit to what I am and what I do without question. I may not be the best person in the world, but I am honest.”

“Damn. I thought we had moved past that,” Jala muttered. There was really no avoiding it now without outright refusal, and after his confessions it seemed rather petty. She rubbed her face and looked at him again, wondering what he meant about making his life difficult. “You know you just ensured I won’t ever sleep with you, right?” she asked.

Finn shrugged and gave her a smile. “If that’s what you want, I’ll respect it. Just don’t choose Valor .All right? I’d end up having to kill him.” His voice sounded completely serious with no hint of a joke at all.

“I highly doubt you would kill Valor. He is your best friend,” she pointed out dryly.

“I killed someone for calling you a whore. I know Valor is my best friend, but he wouldn’t just call you a whore. He would treat you like one, and I’d drop a black coin on him for it.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “And Valor is governed by his pride enough, he would pick the damn thing up, and I’d end up killing him.”

“I really thought you had other reasons for killing Devron that you weren’t saying. I thought you’d had problems with him in the past, and the insult was simply the final straw.”

“Nope, I’d barely even spoken with him before that incident,” Finn replied. “Now the witch?” he prompted.

Jala sighed and gave a faint nod. She was beginning to realize why Sovann never argued with his brother. He might bicker but he never pushed a point. “She said one of my companions’ bears the Betrayer’s blood. I don’t think it’s you and I’m not sure who the betrayer is. I’ll tell you what she said, but I won’t tell you now, okay? I want to be back in Sanctuary where I know you and Sovann are the only ones I’m telling. I trust you both with my life.”

He gave a nod, seeming satisfied with the answer. “I’d tell you who has the bad blood, but you would think I was being petty,” he said. “You know the moment we are back in our hall I’m going to get an answer out of you, right?”

“I know. I’m quickly learning not to argue with you,” she replied in a resigned voice.

He gave her a smile. “Don’t do that. You are about the only one aside from Valor that will still argue with me. Every time I argue with Valor it ends up in drawn steel. I rather like having someone who will talk back without a sword.”

“Look, the trees are thinning ahead. Surely we can’t be at the border already.” Jala pointed ahead and turned in her saddle to look back the way they had come. Behind them, standing majestically beyond the saplings, she could still see the ancient trees of the Tolanteer. When they had ridden through on the way to the witch, it had taken them most of the day simply to clear the new growth.

Finn pivoted in his saddle to look behind them and then to the south. “I think we are far closer to the Nerathane border than Shade thought. We will be lucky if we cross into Rivana at all.” He sat back down in his saddle and urged his horse into a faster walk.

They rode the rest of the way in silence with the intent on reaching the clearing. While she had been excited at the prospect of seeing more of the world, she was more than ready to be home now. Finn seemed to share her eagerness, and by the time they broke into the open grasslands they had caught up with their companions.

Shade was looking around with a frown and seemed to be trying to get his bearings. “I don’t know if we are in Nerathane or Rivana,” he admitted finally and dismounted from his horse.

“Neither is a good prospect. Best we get the ship loaded and leave quickly,” Wisp said with a shrug and dismounted, as well.

I smell more humans, Marrow said, raising his head and sniffing the air.

Finn looked down at the Bendazzi, and before Jala could say a word he was motioning Wisp to hurry. “Get the spell hawk loaded now,” he barked, and the others jumped to obey.

Jala felt a slight tremor of magic across her back and turned to see riders in the yellow and orange of Rivana. They stood in a semi-circle between her friends and the border of Southern Goswin. Toward the back of their ranks were two riders dressed differently, and from what Jala could see, they were unarmored. While apparently part of the Rivasan group, they stood slightly apart from it. One, a powerful looking man dressed fully in white on a white horse, watched in silence as the other, dressed in blue and silver, pushed his horse forward toward the spell hawk. The one approaching was half-blood if Jala guessed right. His pinched face didn’t quite have the perfection of a full Immortal, but he was certainly no commoner. An expression of annoyance covered his features and his whole manner spoke of disapproval. His thin dark hair was pulled back severely, and combined with the crisp starched clothing he wore, he reminded Jala of a military officer.

“Christian, we are leaving here now; get your household on the ship.” His voice was severe and cold, which added volumes to his demeanor of disapproval.

Shade turned to regard the newcomers and blinked in surprise at the man addressing him. “What is the meaning of this, Master Temare?” he asked, obviously trying to regain control of the situation.

“Your father has sent me to collect you. He is very disappointed that you allowed yourself to become involved in this scandal,” Temare replied, his tone at the last word amplifying how distasteful he found the current situation.

Shade’s gaze flicked to the Rivasan soldiers and then to Jala and Finn. “The girls have nothing to do with any troubles the Rivasans might have with Finn, allow me to take them as well.”

“No, I won’t leave Finn here alone,” Jala objected loudly. Shade gave her a pleading look, and she felt Finn squeeze her arm. She planted her feet more firmly in the ground, determined not to be moved from Finn’s side. She had no doubts what the Rivasans intended to do with him, and there was no way she would leave a friend to that fate. Especially not Finn, a small voice in the back of her mind added.

“If they allow you to leave, do so,” he hissed in her ear. “They intend to kill me, and they will likely kill you as well if they don’t rape you first.”

“I won’t leave you,” she repeated through clenched teeth. Marrow crouched low beside her, his lips beginning to curl up in a snarl as he eyed the Rivasans.

“I had been told the girl had left your protection and now lived under the roof of Sovaesh.” Temare eyed Jala with an expression of disgust. She returned the glare, hoping she was displaying her sentiments to him just as clearly.

“She is still a friend of mine, Temare, and I will not leave her to Rivasan mercy,” Shade replied, his posture stiffening.

“I assure you the ladies will be fine,” a new voice cut in. Jala turned to the speaker and watched a rider in the Rivasan colors push his horse forward. His features were so close to Devron’s, he had to have been close kin to the dead boy. “Please, Lord Morcaillo, these are matters between Finn and myself. We really do not want this to turn into more than it already is.” His voice was oily and full of arrogance. Jala bit her lip and fought back the urge to speak up again. It might be better to let Shade speak now. He, at least, was on equal footing with the man.

“Get on the ship, Christian, with your two comrades.” Temare waved his hand toward Leah and Madren and sniffed with distaste as his gaze fell on Jala. “The girl is no longer our concern. She has made her choice of allies, and the Faydwer girl is of no concern to the House Morcaillo, either.” Temare spoke with a tone of authority and pointed at the ship. “Your father will not be pleased if you cause difficulties with an allied House. House Rivasa has never had a quarrel with House Morcaillo, I highly suggest you do not start one,” he added when he noticed Shade’s lack of movement.

“Come on, Shade, that’s a Soul Reaver in the back,” Leah said, her voice a bit urgent. She tugged at Shade’s arm and he allowed himself to be moved a step or two before planting his heels once again.

Jala watched him with hope and truly believed he meant to stand beside them before Temare spoke again. “If you do not wish for your father to show here I suggest you get on the ship. Be aware, I will inform him of the difficulty you have already caused,” he snapped and Shade seemed to wilt before the words like a child. With a final apologetic glance her way, he stepped onto the spell hawk followed closely by Leah and Madren. Temare bowed respectfully to the Rivasan lord. “My apologies, Milord, It was never House Morcaillo’s intent to inconvenience you,” he said and then stepped onto the ship, as well, without so much as a glance back.

Finn watched them disappear onto the ship and pulled his silver cigarette case from his pocket. Silently, he lit the cigarette and took a long drag as he eyed the Rivasan intently before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. “What now Dendric?” he asked, his voice low.

“You killed my brother and dared to trespass on my lands. What do you think happens now, Sovaesh?” The Lord replied, his tone mocking. “You will die, the Faydwer will get a grand visit with my father, and your little kitten there will become a slave.”

Jala shuddered at the word, her mind flashing back to images the witch had shown her. She tried not to picture herself beaten and bloody in her mother’s place. Setting her jaw, she pushed the images back and felt her back stiffen. She would die before it came to that, she decided firmly. Marrow snarled beside her and his hair began to rise. Spines rose from his back as he crouched lower, thick curving black protrusions from his shoulders and along the ridge of his back. For a moment, the sight stunned her out of her determination and she simply stared down at the Bendazzi in shock. She hadn’t known he had spines. She scolded herself mentally for the distraction and pushed the thoughts away. Sovann was right; she really did need to work on her concentration.

“See the one in the back, without a uniform? said Finn. That’s a Soul Reaver. Keep an eye on him. I’m not sure which circle he is, but he is either a Blade Master or a Shaman. If he is a Blade Master we don’t have a prayer. This many men will be tough as it is. If he is a Shaman, he can pull your soul straight out of your body without effort. For now, just keep yourself shielded, don’t let the shield drop for a moment. Rivasans use Hellfire and a lot of it,” he spoke the words quickly and kept an eye on the Rivasan lord as he hissed them to her. Taking another long drag from his cigarette, he stepped away from Jala and Marrow and moved out into open ground.

“You can’t possibly mean to pursue this!” Wisp exclaimed, apparently realizing it was going to come to blood. “Do you have any idea what my father will do to your lands, Rivasa?” She glared defiantly at the Lord.

“Most likely nothing. He will simply pay your ransom. Considering that you were taken on my lands,” Dendric replied with a cold smile. “Drop your weapons and surrender, Finn, you don’t have a chance here, and you know it. Set down the swords and I’ll make it quick and painless. Fight me and I’ll leave you alive to watch my guards have a turn with your kitten.”

“The bloody hell they will, you bastard,” Jala growled.

“The bloody hell you will,” Finn agreed and drew his blades. He stood defiantly before them, his shoulders set and his eyes intent. “I will not surrender. Might as well get on with it.” His voice was a low growl filled with threat.

“Finn, they have you twenty to one.” Wisp’s voice was filled with pleading.

“Twenty to two if you draw that bow, Wisp. I’m not backing down, you know me better than that.” Finn began his advance toward the horseman. Slow and cautious at first as he gauged his opponents and chose his first target.

“Kill him. Keep the girls alive,” Dendric said in an almost lazy voice and rode back to wait, apparently not inclined to face Finn himself. His gaze fell on the Soul Reaver who sat motionless on his horse watching the encounter. “You heard me, kill him,” he snapped.

The Soul Reaver regarded him with pale, near colorless eyes and raised a white eyebrow. He was a colorless form among the bright yellow and orange of the Rivasans, standing out like a snow drift in a spring garden. His expression was neutral and if he had any intention of acting, Jala saw no signs of it. Still, she kept her gaze fixed on the Soul Reaver as Finn had told her to. Her shields were up and solid, giving her the safety to watch and not worry about the other soldiers. She found herself marveling at the man’s complete lack of pigment. His skin was as pale as snow, with hair that seemed even whiter, and his features were well made. But the sheer strangeness of his presence made him seem not quite human.

“You hired me to collect his soul once he was dead, not to kill him. If you cannot win this fight with these odds you do not deserve the victory,” the Soul Reaver spoke in a calm, polite voice that seemed wholly out of place in this chaos.

Upon hearing the words, she turned her attention back to the fight. Knowing he wouldn’t move, freed her to watch over her friends. Wisp had drawn her bow and was working hard to stay out of range of the swordsmen, as she fired as many arrows as she could manage during her retreat. If any arrows had found their marks yet, Jala saw no sign. It was likely that the soldiers wore wards of protection that would need to be dispelled before Wisp’s arrows would find a mark. Jala ground her teeth in frustration. The greater dispelling was a spell Sovann had taught her, but it required vast concentration. It would, of course, also destroy her shield and most likely her armor which was enchanted.

Scanning the field, she located Finn standing in the center of four swordsmen and from the look of it was spending his strength defending and not attacking. Jala bit her lips and maintained the shield as he had instructed, wishing there was some way she could help. Finn delivered one of his typical flurries to the closest swordsman but had to pull back to parry two more before he could land a solid blow. There were simply too many on him. While none of the soldiers had managed to get through Finn’s defense, it was only a matter of time before it happened. He would tire before twenty men.

“Help him, Marrow, get one of them off Finn and give him room,” she said quietly. As if he had simply been waiting for the word, Marrow sprang forward savagely. His jump carried him into the closest man’s back. The Bendazzi bore him down with little effort and raked with ruthless efficiency at the man’s back and stomach. The Rivasan’s screams tore through the air, and Jala steeled herself against them. She refused to feel pity for anyone that would follow Dendric’s orders. Finn seized the opportunity as soon as it presented itself. He whirled to his right, plunging a blade into one of the soldiers who was foolish enough to pause at the Bendazzi’s appearance.

A blossom of flame drew her attention back to Wisp, and she watched the Fae barely dodge the burst of blue fire that flowed past her. Hellfire, Jala realized. Sovann had spoken of it but she had never seen it before. It was far beyond natural fire, burning at temperatures that could melt any armor. Intent on avoiding the fire, Wisp nearly ran into a circling horseman. With a cry of alarm, the Fae dodged under the horse and sprinted trying to get as much distance as she could. Jala watched in mute horror as the rider of the horse spurred the beast after the tiny Fae. Without really thinking, she dropped the shield and summoned her magic. She couldn’t simply stand here shielded and watch Wisp get rode down. With a grunt of effort, she wove the simplest offensive spell Sovann had taught her at the rider. The blast of wind hit solidly and knocked both horse and rider to the ground in a bone breaking tumble.

A shriek came from near Finn, and she prayed it was one of the Rivasan’s but didn’t spare the time to look. The other riders had noticed her join the fray, and two were riding toward her. She could get her shields back up in time if she started now, but that would leave Wisp alone once more. Jala ground her teeth and motioned the Fae to her as she leveled another spell at the closest rider. She didn’t know enough about the Rivasan’s to know what magics were most effective against them, but fire was definitely off the list. There were limits as well to what she had learned from Sovann in the way of combat magic. His magic was more of a practical nature. Her gaze flicked to the fallen horseman and she gave a sigh. That one seemed to have worked well enough she decided. Focusing herself completely, she hurled a wall of solid air at the approaching soldiers and smiled in satisfaction as the wind hurled them back. It didn’t have as much effect as she had hoped, but for now, they were out of the fight.

Wisp reached her side breathless and pressed her back solid against Jala’s. “Thank you,” she gasped and Jala felt the Fae’s shoulders tighten as she raised her bow once more.

“Don’t mention it,” Jala replied, turning her attention to the Rivasan Lord who was watching the battle with an annoyed look on his face. Apparently he had expected them to be dead by now. Her gaze flicked over his clothing and jewels searching for any wards he might be wearing. Seeing nothing obvious, she considered the options quickly. It was doubtful that wind would work effectively on him, considering the two riders she knocked back were already rising, and the lord was sure to be stronger.

“Only seventeen left, no problems here,” Wisp mumbled behind her and Jala wasn’t sure if the Fae had been speaking to her or not. She flicked a glance back to Finn to see he had dropped one of the swordsmen though another had quickly taken his comrade’s place. “They have protections up against my arrows. Any chance you can dispel that?”

“I can try,” Jala offered and set herself on that spell instead. The dispelling would, of course, leave her standing completely naked in enemy territory, but if Wisp managed to sink an arrow in the Lord’s eye, the end result was worth it. She let the magic wash over her and tried to ignore the sounds of combat around her. A major dispelling of this nature was more complicated, and she couldn’t allow herself to worry for Marrow or Finn. She was halfway through it when she heard Finn curse loudly.

“Oh, shit,” Wisp exclaimed, her voice rising to a near screech. Jala kept her eyes closed and focused refusing to let her concentration break this close to completion. A gust of hot air brushed across her cheek and abruptly the world went dark. Smoke filled her nostrils thick with the smell of charred flesh. The spell failed completely; her focus destroyed by the smell. Her eyes flashed open, and she stared in mute astonishment at the bronze scaled back shielding her. She stood in shadows and looked up numbly to stare at the bronze wing stretched over them like a canopy. Her jaw dropped as her mind suddenly realized what it was seeing. A dragon had saved them from hellfire, and the smell of burning flesh rose in waves from the creature. Almost causing her to wretch. Jala fought back her puzzlement. Now was not the time to contemplate why a dragon was being burned by fire despite all of the stories that said they were immune.

Build a stable fire now, behind your enemies. NOW! A voice commanded in her mind, and it only registered after she was casting the spell, that it was Havoc’s voice and not Marrow’s. She released the spell and a bonfire the size of one of the mounted riders sprung to life behind them. Her breath caught in her throat as the first of the black horses emerged from the flames at a dead run. Havoc sat astride it, his swords bared and flashing toward the closest Rivasan. The soldier recognized the threat too late and fell to the ground, his neck nearly severed. She heard the dragon give a savage growl, and it lunged awkwardly at a passing rider. Its movements seemed sluggish, and it couldn’t seem to rise fully to its feet. Jala struggled to get a look around it, to catch some sign of Finn but there was no way of seeing past the bronze scales.

“Is Finn alright, do you know where he is?” she asked Wisp frantically. She couldn’t hear the swords ringing anymore and was afraid he had fallen while her eyes had been closed.

Wisp looked at her in disbelief and motioned at the dragon. “That is Finn, and no he isn’t all right,” she replied, her voice nearly hysterical. Leaving Jala to sort it out, the Fae notched another arrow and fired at a passing soldier. Jala shook herself from the daze Wisp’s words had left her in, and returned her full attention to the fight, throwing spells when she could get a clear target. Briefly, she caught the glimpse of Avalanche and wondered for a bare second when Victory had arrived. She hadn’t seen him join the fight. Then the moment passed and her world once again shrank to spells and death.

She couldn’t say how long the fight had lasted, and she was still reeling as Havoc led her away from the dragon and Wisp. She saw the Firym give Victory a look and nod back toward Wisp, but her mind refused to register. She kept her gaze from traveling to the tangled bloody bodies of horse and rider and tried instead to locate Marrow. She hadn’t seen the Bendazzi since the beginning of the fight.

“How did you know to come?” she asked, her voice faint.

“You were squeezing the dagger,” Havoc explained. “It drew my attention to you. It had enchantments on it to let me know if you needed me,” he added.

He led her back and motioned for her to sit. She shook her head absently and looked back at the dragon now lying full on its side in the bloodied grass. “Is that really Finn?” she asked.

Havoc gave a silent nod, his expression grim. “It is, he shifted to spare you the flames,” he replied.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked, her tone worried. His expression didn’t shift and he simply shrugged in response. She started to head back, and he grabbed her arm.

“Wait, let Victory see what can be done. If you go now you will just get in their way,” Havoc said, his tone firm and his grip on her arm firmer.

She nodded slightly and pushed back a wave of dizziness. She had used too much magic too quickly. Her reserves were not yet built up. “How bad is he?” she asked, wishing he would just give her some sign. Havoc shrugged and motioned to the ground again. “Sit, you are pale,” he ordered and she ignored him, her eyes fixed on the form of the dragon.

Victory leaned back from the massive bronze form, and it appeared to be shrinking. She watched in fascination as the dragon’s body seemed to fold back into itself, and then it was Finn lying flat on his back in the grass, still and unmoving. She must have made a sound because Havoc’s hold on her tightened. She could see the burns on Finn from here and his right side seemed almost entirely black.

“Let me go, I won’t get in the way,” she promised and tugged against his grip again. Victory was speaking to Wisp now, and the small Fae seemed to crumble before his words. She watched Wisp raise her hands to her face and saw the little Fae’s shoulders shake with sobs. “Let me go now,” Jala demanded, panic rising in her voice. Victory looked across to Havoc and gave a slight shake of his head. She watched Finn’s form seem to spasm his back arching in the grass.

“Spare yourself, Jala, there is nothing you can do,” Havoc said in what she thought was meant to be soothing tones.

Reeling back from his words, Jala stared at him. She tugged on her arm again, and Havoc’s grip didn’t lessen at all. “Let go,” she ordered again, her voice growing more desperate. When he again ignored her, she summoned all of her rage and frustration and balled up her fist. It was the first time she had ever punched anyone, and from the way Havoc staggered back it must have been a good start. The Firym had been caught completely off guard by the blow and she caught him solidly on the jaw sending his head snapping back. Without waiting for him to recover she sprinted to Finn and dropped down on the grass across from Victory. The damage was worse than she had seen from beside Havoc. His right side was burnt through, and the flesh was cracked and split open, revealing bone beneath. His right eye was gone and his left eye was closed, his expression calm, despite the terrible ruin of his body. At first, she thought him dead, until she noticed the very faint rise of his chest.

“There is nothing I can do Jala. Neither my sister nor myself are healers of this caliber, and he is too far gone to transport magically. He is burnt inside as well as out and shouldn’t be alive now,” Victory said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Can we bring a healer to him?” Jala asked, tears welling up in her eyes. She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain focused. She couldn’t break down now. Finn needed her. He wouldn’t even be hurt if he hadn’t saved her. She felt pressure on her hand and looked down to see his good hand pressed against hers.

“Couldn’t before more Rivasan’s arrive. Leave here,” Finn mumbled, his words broken by the ruined right side of his mouth. His voice was weak and the words hard to decipher, but Jala understood them well enough. He expected her to leave him here.

“He is right, we need to go,” Victory said, his gaze quickly dropping from her face.

“Then go, I will not leave him here dying by himself,” Jala hissed back, her throat tight.

The pale one still watches, should I leave him be, Marrow asked and she glanced over her shoulder at the Soul Reaver. He sat motionless, simply watching them with no expression on his face.

“Can you heal?” she called to him in desperation. He had not made any move against them in the fight so it was possible he might be persuaded to help.

The Soul Reaver rode closer and looked down at her. “I cannot, Milady, my apologies. The Sovaesh fought well. I will wait with him and prevent the Rivasan’s from defiling his soul. I must collect it though, as I was paid, but you should go before more of them arrive. They will exact their vengeance on you if you remain.”

Heal him yourself, Marrow urged.

“I don’t know how,” she whispered to the Bendazzi who now sat beside her regarding the Soul Reaver warily.

He will die if you don’t try and he will die if you move him. Even if you don’t do it correctly and he dies anyway, at least you have tried, Marrow pointed out.

Jala gave a slight nod. The Bendazzi’s appraisal of the situation was accurate. Taking a deep breath she mentally calculated her magical reserves trying to estimate if she had enough left. With grim determination, she pushed aside the calculation and wrapped Finn’s hand in her own. Anthae’s words rang in her mind as she settled herself more comfortably. Let no one tell you what you are capable of. Search your heart and find that answer yourself. She leaned forward and pressed her other hand gently on the unhurt side of Finn’s chest. Closing her eyes she focused her magic and listened as her heart told her she could do this.

“What are you doing?” Victory demanded. She felt his hand brush against hers trying to stop her. “Untrained healing is dangerous for the healer as well as the patient, Jala. You must stop.”

“To doubt is to fail,” she whispered to herself and pushed Victory’s words away. “If he tries to move me again, Marrow, remove his hand,” she said in a slightly louder voice, just enough to reach Victory’s ears.

Marrow gave a low growl, and she pushed herself further into the magic, trusting her Familiar to keep her from being interrupted. The magic coursed through her and into Finn and she had to bite her lip against the pain that washed over her as she shared his pain. It said much for the man that he wasn’t writhing and screaming in agony. He apparently planned to die with dignity. She ground her teeth at the thought and pushed the healing on. That was a plan she would disrupt happily. Finding the proper concentration through the mingled pain was difficult at first, but the knowledge that if she didn’t he would die, kept her focused. Finn Sovaesh would not die. She would not allow it. With gentle pushes on his body, she wove the magic through burnt flesh and felt it reweave under her touch. She started deep where the damage didn’t show and worked steadily on organs that had ceased all function. There was so much damage, and her reserves were already low. She pushed back the doubt once more and continued. Her breathing grew shallow, and everything except Finn’s wounds faded from her mind. It was the deepest into the magic she had ever gone. Sovann had spoken of the trances before, but she had never been able to achieve one. Spots began to form behind her eyes and something warm ran down her face, from her nose she thought.

Draw from something other than yourself, Jala. You are pulling too much from inside, Marrow urged.

I can’t channel, I’m a sorcerer, she objected, speaking back to his mind, too deep in the trance to bother with spoken words.

You are not a healer, either, and yet you are healing. Find something to draw from before you die with him, Jala, the Bendazzi insisted, his voice gnawing at her mind, refusing to be ignored.

Jala let her eyes flicker open and searched for something as the Bendazzi urged her. Still heavy in the trance and past the point of logical thought, her gaze lingered on Finn’s swords. She had seen the Barllen absorb magic just days ago. Silently she outstretched a hand toward the swords and pulled. The first magic to brush against it was absorbed, but she tried again, her resolve firmer. With a low, almost feral growl that sounded more like Marrow than herself, she pulled and the magic answered in a rush. With renewed energy, she continued the weaving on Finn’s ravaged body, allowing her eyes to sink closed once more. Her work became a steady rhythm. Simply locate the damage and mend the damage, and then, do it over again. Until she no longer spared it though, becoming more machine than thinking creature.

“Enough, Jala, it’s enough,” she heard a voice say in her ear. Arms were around her and they seemed so warm, almost feverish. The voice was familiar but she couldn’t place who was speaking to her. There was still more damage to repair. She ignored the voice and continued the weaving, Finn wouldn’t die; she wouldn’t let him.

The arms wrapped tighter around her, gentle and warm. “Jala, enough, I’m all right. Enough. Please. You are bleeding, please stop,” the voice pleaded, and Jala stirred from her trance a bit.

“Finn?” she asked, with eyes still closed and her voice sounding distant to her ears.

“Yes, Jala, it’s me. Please stop now, please. Just relax, it’s OK now, Vezradesh,” he repeated, his voice holding more urgency.

The last word broke through to her, and she smiled. Finn was the only one that had ever called her Vezradesh. Wisp had told her what the word meant, but she still didn’t know which meaning Finn was using, heart, love, or eternity. Her eyes still closed, she leaned forward into his arms, and her face brushed against the burnt remains of his shirt, as she rested fully against his chest. “So tired, going to rest now if you are okay, Finn,” she whispered into his chest, her body relaxing against him.

“That’s right, Jala, rest. It’s okay, I’ll get us both back home,” she heard him whisper and felt him gently kiss the top of her head as she drifted into dreamless sleep.

Chapter 26

Morcath

Shade’s knuckles were white on the controls as he sat the spell hawk down roughly. He turned a glare to Temare, and then looked past him to where Madren and Leah sat pale faced and silent. “Stay on the ship. I’m going to speak with my father.”

“You were ordered to return to Sanctuary,” Temare snapped. Shade eyed his former Sword Master with contempt and matched his glare.

“You serve House Morcaillo, Temare, and I am heir to this house. You forget your place,” he snarled, pushing past the man. He had never before spoken to Temare in anything but tones of respect. He no longer cared for protocol, though, and had been pushed too far. He had to keep a constant effort to keep images of Jala’s torments from forming in his mind; torments she wouldn’t be enduring if he had stood his ground. “Get out of my god damned way before I move you,” Shade growled as the Sword Master once again stepped into his path.

“Your father will send for you when he wishes to speak with you. You are to return to Sanctuary. He has other matters that he must see to before he deals with you,” Temare replied, unmoving.

“My father will speak with me now,” Shade returned, with enough force that the man stepped back a fraction. Rage fueling his strength, he shoved past the man and opened the door to the Spell Hawk and stepped out into the balmy night air. Lights glowed in the house beyond. He started to head that way, ignoring Temare’s demands for him to stop until the aging Sword Master’s complaints stopped abruptly in mid command. Spinning back in confusion, Shade saw Temare’s form lying sprawled on the ground face down in the dirt. A figure stood above him cloaked darkly and dressed in blue and silver. Blue eyes met his own and Shade’s anger fell away as he recognized his uncle. The man was taller than Myth by no more than a few inches and as lean as a wolf.

“Silent and follow, Shade,” his uncle commanded and strode off toward the house, staying deep in the shadows as he moved. Shade followed, confused but curious.

“What is going on, Uncle Kiernan?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Be silent and pick a smaller form boy, once suitable for skulking,” Kiernan replied, his own form already shifting down to the small serpent form he favored. Shade regarded the tiny snake for a scarce breath and shifted his own form to match his uncles. Never before had any member of his family used the Changeling talent so openly before, and he felt his skin prickling at the open display. He had been schooled since he was a small boy that to use the talent openly was to invite death. His uncle moved silently through the grass, and Shade followed wordlessly as he was led under his family home and into the floors beneath. Absently, he wondered how many times his uncle had used this method for spying and dismissed the thought as no concern of his. He had never done a thing worth spying on. He had always behaved as expected, always. And because of that, Jala was most likely being raped or already dead and Amelia Faydwer was now hostage in Rivasan lands. The thoughts died at once as voices rose from the room above him. His father’s voice and what he thought was Lord Avanti. His uncle settled himself, no longer moving, and remained frozen as he listened to the conversation above.

“It will be gone within the year and Arovan with it,” his father was saying, and Shade wished he had caught the first part of that sentence. As far as he knew, his father never had any interest in the Arovan lands. They were far to the north and not even on the same continent as his own. For the most part, Lord Arovan remained apart from the intrigues of Sanctuary. The only time the lands were ever mentioned was in reference to Lord Hai’dia, Arovan’s General, or one of his family. Shade settled himself silently and focused all attention on the words above as his uncle was doing. Apparently Kiernan thought this was important for him to hear.

“So you say, but what proof do you have of this,” Avanti spoke, his voice smooth and cultured. There was no mistaking who it was, now that he heard it more clearly. Lord Avanti was a longtime associate of his father, and he had sat through many dinners with the man.

“Open a scry and look for yourself. Gaelyn lies in ruins and Glis sits defenseless,” his father replied.

“And you don’t think the Fionaveir will intercede?”

“They have already tried, and several of them are dead because of it,” his father’s voice held more than the usual arrogance. He sounded positively smug. “They have no way of linking it back to me, or you, if you choose to help.”

“A very tempting offer and one I am most interested in. That is not, of course, why I am here, and you know it. It does go far in soothing my other concerns though. It is good to know that Morcaillo is still the friend I thought it was. I confess your son was raising doubts.”

“My son regrettably has made some very poor choices recently. I had thought him more than what he has shown to be.” Despite his choice of words, if Myth truly felt regret it didn’t show in his tone.

“I have been told that Rivasa is tending to the problem with the peasant girl. What do you intend to do about your son?”

“I’m afraid House Morcaillo will have to suffer casualties as well in this effort, and sadly I think my son might not survive to see our victory,” Myth replied with an exaggerated sigh.

A muffled laugh came from above, and Shade was unsure if it was Avanti or his father laughing as they discussed his impending demise. “Do you have any idea what Rivasa intends to do with the girl? As I understand it, Finn will die. If they make a slave of her, though, I might find an interest, she has shown remarkable talent from what I hear,” Avanti spoke casually, apparently satisfied that Myth had the difficulties with his son well in hand.

Shade sought his mind frantically for what he had done that was bad enough his father would kill him for it. His gaze flicked to his uncle as Kiernan began to move back toward the starlit night. Shade glanced up and would have frowned had the expression been one available to snakes. Silently, he followed after his uncle, fighting down the curiosity of what might be discussed in his absence.

They were well away from the house heading back toward the Spell Hawk before Kiernan once again shifted back to his human form. He stood patiently, brushing his dark red hair back from his face as he waited for Shade to finish his own transformation.

“As you have heard, your life is forfeit, Shade, and you must not confront your father. It would be best that you go now and not look back,” Kiernan spoke quietly, his eyes flicking around the grounds as if he expected to be discovered at any moment.

“Why, what did I do?” Shade asked. Just minutes before he had been ready to hurl his signet ring into his father’s face, but now when confronted with this, he felt nothing but despair. It was one thing to disown a child or your family, but to kill your own blood was betrayal beyond what Shade had ever contemplated.

“Because you had the audacity to think for yourself too many times, Shade. You have always been obedient but you are showing signs that make him nervous. He will eliminate you and put his mind at ease by doing so,” Kiernan replied, his voice filled with disgust.

“Why are you helping me?” Shade asked with suspicion. He barely knew his uncle in truth and this sudden appearance seemed too convenient. This could be a test on his loyalties. That was something his father would do. He knew that from experience. Push him as far as he dared and then test him to see if he would break.

“Because if I don’t, Myth will kill you,” Kiernan replied simply. He shook his head at Shade, his expression sympathetic. “Don’t look at me with that suspicion, Shade. This is not one of Myth’s mind games. This is serious. He is pushing hard against the other houses, as you heard. He doesn’t have time to worry about you betraying him while he plots war, so he is betraying you first.”

Shade nodded slowly as he heard the truth in his uncle’s words. That, too, was something Myth would do, strike first before the other was prepared. No wonder Temare had shown so little respect, the Sword Master must have known he was as good as dead. “Why don’t you stop him?” he asked his uncle. If Kiernan had been spying as often as Shade thought he had, it was likely he knew everything Myth planned to do. If anyone was in the perfect position to stop his father, his uncle was.

“Because I don’t even know if that is truly Myth. The first rule of Changeling survival is never be where they expect you to be. For all I know, that is one of his supposedly dead children playing at being him. I have to know for sure before I strike. With Myth, I won’t get a second chance,” Kiernan replied, his gaze moving back to the house. “You need to go, Shade, before he learns of this, and I need to be watching and listening.”

Shade gave a silent nod and looked to the prone body of Temare lying beside his spell hawk. His uncle followed his gaze and shook his head slightly motioning Shade on. “Thank you again, Uncle,” he whispered and gave one last glance at the house he had grown up in. It was possible he would never again see it. Setting his shoulders, he turned and jogged back to The Shade without further hesitation. He ignored the curious looks from his friends as he pulled the signet ring from his hand and quickly stored it in a gem. Wordlessly, he dropped it into his pocket and reached across to tear the locator crystal from his dash. Still silent, he gemmed it as well and dropped the stone into the pocket with the ring. It was illegal to fly without a locator crystal and he wouldn’t be able to land directly in Sanctuary without one, but he couldn’t risk being tracked by his father now. He had to go back to Sanctuary. He had to get Oma and Lex. Most importantly, he had to know what had happened with Jala or he would never sleep peacefully again. If Rivasa held her, he would find a way to get her back. It was his fault if they had her. If he had stood his ground then she would be fine.

“Shade?” Leah said, making his name a question. The concern was obvious on her face as she moved forward in the ship and sat down in the chair across from him.

“Nothing but Shade now, Leah. Christian Morcaillo is as good as dead,” he said, his voice quiet. As if the words themselves held magic. He felt years of strain fall from his shoulders. His mouth set in a grim smile as he turned the ship toward Sanctuary one last time. “Just a few things to tidy up and then who knows what from there. Maybe I’ll join the Fionaveir if they’ll have me. It would be nice to know that I was doing the right thing and have no doubts.”

She watched him silently, her eyes full of questions. She gave a slight nod and settled back into the seat with a thoughtful and distant expression.

Telling her brother through a link that I have lost my mind, no doubt, Shade mused silently, and the thought made him smile. Gaining one of my own is closer to the truth, he decided. It was best that she explain everything to Lex now, before he got to the city. He wouldn’t have to waste time explaining it himself, and he could focus on the important things. Like finding out if he had caused the only person to die he had ever met with an aura like snow. What shade of grey will I be then, if my obedience cost her life? It wasn’t a thought he cared to focus on, and pushed it aside to turn his attention instead to the minor detail of where he would land the spell hawk, if not at the sky port. It wasn’t so much the landing on rough terrain that was a problem. He could do that. I was the landing on rough terrain without being seen that presented the obstacle.

“Lex says if you were serious about the Fionaveir, he will take you to them himself,” Leah’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts and he repeated the words over in his mind. “He says they could use you now, things are difficult for them. To the point that he doesn’t think he will be staying in the city much longer, either,” Leah continued when he remained silent.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure what he was doing in the city. I didn’t know the Fionaveir attended the Academy. Is that normal? Are there others there?” Shade asked, voicing questions he had never quite found the right time to ask.

“You know I’m not one myself, so I don’t know everything they do. I know Lex was there to observe the High Lords children. Why he was sent to watch them, I don’t know. He thinks well of you, though, Shade. That much is obvious if he is willing to take you back home with us,” Leah explained with a shrug. Her dark eyes were still filled with concern. “Are you going to tell me what is going on? I know you are upset about leaving them. I am too. There wasn’t much we could do in that situation though. I can fight, but no one can survive those odds.”

Her words stung, and Shade winced at them. She was more than likely right, of course, but it had been Finn Sovaesh facing those odds. As much as he despised the man, Sovaesh was probably one of the few that could survive that situation. “There is a chance Finn pulled it off,” he said quietly.

“A very slender one. You know those soldiers would have been protected from range weapons. All armies are. Wisp would have been useless in that battle, and Jala just learned she had magic a month or two ago. She was far from a battle mage,” Leah returned, her voice gentle.

“I know they probably didn’t make it, Leah. I don’t need you to point out all of the reasons I should have stayed,” Shade sighed, the guilt bearing down on him with more weight than the name Morcaillo had ever held.

“I’m pointing out the reasons we had to go, Shade,” Leah corrected and leaned over to take his hand. “There was nothing we could have done there, other than die beside them.”

Shade looked at her, watching her expression and the look in her eyes. She thought he was helpless, as well. She had never even seen him with a sword, and like the rest of them in Sanctuary. She believed he couldn’t use one. After all, if he were a swordsman why would he need guards? He shook his head at her slowly and frowned. “It’s all in perspective, Leah. You see reasons I couldn’t have helped, and I see all of the ways I could have.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and mentally resolved that one day he would dispel all of the thoughts that had been formed about him.

Chapter 27

Sanctuary

“Jala, it’s time to wake up,” The sound of her mother echoed from downstairs. She snuggled back into her quilts, pretending she hadn’t heard the call. Cap snuggled in closer beside her, sharing his warmth. She ran her fingers through the thick fur and rested her cheek against his back, secure in the fortress of blankets she had built.

“Jala, it’s time to wake up,” the voice repeated, deeper now, and louder. Jala forced her eyes open a crack and realized it was Marrow she burrowed against. The Bendazzi, seeing her eyes move, nudged her with his nose, his yellow eyes watching her closely. She took a deep breath and worked her mouth open and closed. Her lips were cracked, her throat was dry, and her eyes were blurry. She sat up slowly, a bit lightheaded, and looked around the room, blinking. She was in her own bed in the Hall of Champions. A man was seated beside her in a chair pulled close to the bedside. She looked at him groggily, trying to remember if she knew who he was. He had dusky skin and dark almond-shaped eyes. She returned his stare, her mind still trapped partially in sleep. Stretching her muscles tentatively, she tried to remember why she felt so horrible. Her entire body felt like one large bruise, and she was far stiffer than she could ever remember being.

“Are you really awake? You don’t look it.” It was the same voice that had called her from the pleasant dream.

Jala watched the man speak. His mouth moved and then came the sounds, as if his voice were delayed. She raised a hand to the back of her head to check for a wound. That would certainly explain her disorientation. She gave a hesitant nod in answer. She was awake, or at least she thought she was. Everything seemed rather out of focus.

“My name is Jail. Well, it’s actually Jalon Han’shy, but you won’t hear anyone calling me that. I know this is an odd way to meet for the first time, but the others were concerned that you might have damaged your mind.” She nodded slowly, still silent as she looked him over more closely. She remembered Finn telling her about Jail, but he hadn’t actually described the man accurately. Finn had said he was large. That simply wasn’t the proper word for Jail. He was, in fact, huge, far bigger than Finn or Valor with biceps the size of her thigh. He leaned forward in his chair and even in that position he would have been nearly as tall as her, standing. His head was shaved around the sides with the top part pulled back in a long braid. Tattoos ran around his skull in strange patterns that made her eyes hurt, just looking at them.

He raised a hand to her head and placed a finger on her temple, apparently concerned by her silence and staring. Jala fought back a chuckle as she imagined what she must look like to the man. Fine first impression indeed, her hair would be a wild tangle so soon after sleep, and her stare must have been positively vacant. “I’m alright. Really,” she murmured and gently pushed his hand back. Raising a hand, she rubbed her face and sought for the memory of what had brought her to this state. She could remember Anthae clearly and the ride back toward Rivana, but the memory faded from there. Absently, she tried to smooth her curls back into order and frowned at the fog in her mind.

Marrow looked up at her with his yellow eyes locking onto her violet ones with a vice-like stare. His mind linked with hers, filling her with the scenes of battle, and lifting the fog from her mind. She wasn’t sure if she had blocked them away or if she had, in fact, damaged her mind with the magic. It was all clear to her now, though, vivid and terrible. “You healed him, he is fine. The Fionaveir returned us to the city and left,” Marrow assured her, sensing her rising panic.

“Ahh, there is recognition. So you remember everything now?” Jail asked, the concerned look fading from his face.

She gave a quick nod and looked around the room as if she might have missed seeing Finn the first time. It didn’t seem right that Jail was here and Finn was not. If he was truly OK, she was sure he would be here. “Where is Finn?” she asked, pushing the blankets back and moving to stand.

“Easy. Finn is resting. First, you and I need to have a talk and then I’ll take you to him. Okay?” Jail calmly pushed her back toward the pillows.

“Talk about what? Did I damage my mind?” she stopped all attempts at getting from bed and stared at him waiting for an answer.

He shook his head slightly and frowned at her. “No, your mind is fine, but there is the matter of my checking it, though. I am one of the best Mind Mages there are, with the exception of my father and brother. I am certainly the best among the High Houses. I had to look into your mind to see that nothing had been damaged,” he paused, holding her gaze with his own. “I see no damage at all, Lady Merrodin,” he said, once he was sure he had her full attention. Her eyes widened at the name and she stared at him, her mouth parted slightly. “So you see the problem. You don’t know me at all, and yet I know a very big secret about you. So we need to decide what we will do. It was not my intention to discover your secrets, but that one was fresh in your mind and rested very near the surface,” he finished and leaned back waiting for her to speak.

It took her a moment to gather her composure. With a slight nod, she looked to Jail and gave another nod, her decision made. “There is nothing to debate here. I will trust you with my secret. Finn trusts you and that is enough for me. He says you are honorable and he has never lied to me. Not even when it would have been in his best interest to do so,” she said her voice steady.

Jail stared at her in disbelief. “Just like that? You just meet me and decide to trust as if it’s the simplest thing in the world?” he asked, with what she thought was amusement thick in his voice.

“It’s a circle, I suppose,” she said and shrugged. “Finn trusts you. I trust him. So I, in turn, trust you. All goes around, I suppose. By that own measure, I suppose I trust Valor, Wisp, and Neph, as well. Though I must say, you seem much nicer than Neph.”

“Not many would think like that. It’s putting a lot of faith in Finn’s judgment,” Jail pointed out mildly. “And yes, Neph is an ass but we tolerate him anyway,” he added with a slight chuckle.

“I owe my life to Finn, and he has never given me reason to doubt him,” she replied and swung her legs off the bed. She stood too rapidly, and Jail quickly raised a hand to steady her as she waited for her head to stop spinning. “You said you would take me to Finn,” she reminded him, once she was steady.

“Sovann had to drug him to get him to rest. He sat by your bed for the first three days and wouldn’t sleep or eat,” Jail explained, offering his arm to her.

Her eyes widened at his words and she looked back to her bed and then to him. “First three days, how bloody long have I been out?” she asked.

“Five days total, this being the fifth. I don’t think you quite realized how hard you pushed yourself. When your magic reserves run out and you continue a spell, it draws from your actual body. Look at yourself,” he said as he stopped her in front of her mirror and motioned to her reflection.

The image looking back at her was pale and worn looking. Her hair hung in limp tangles and her cheeks seemed sunken. Her shoulders and ribs jutted from beneath the nightgown making her look more skeletal than human. She raised a hand to her mouth at the sight and cringed at how bony her hand looked. Sitting in the bed, she hadn’t even paid attention to herself. She had been far more intent on the stranger seated beside her. “No wonder I’m so shaky,” she mumbled, still trying to adjust to the idea that the waif in the mirror was her.

Jail gave a slight nod. “There is another matter about that. We can speak of it later after you have seen Finn, but I would like Neph to be there as well.” She opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her with a motion of his hand. “I promise Neph will be on best behavior, and he is an expert in these matters.”

Jala gave a reluctant nod of acceptance. “I don’t think he likes me. It isn’t that I have a problem with him,” she explained.

Fighting back laughter, Jail shook his head at her and began to lead her from the room. “You just don’t understand Neph yet, my dear. Neph doesn’t like anyone. It’s not just you.”

The lights in Finn’s room were out and the shades drawn close, leaving the room nearly pitch black. Marrow crossed first, his pale form guiding her around furniture. Jail closed the door behind them silently and motioned for her to be quiet. Though Finn was drugged, there was still a chance he might wake, and if disoriented he would be dangerous. Despite that, she had insisted on seeing him to ease the image of him burned from her mind, though she didn’t think that image would ever go away entirely.

Marrow led her to the side of the bed, and she stopped a few feet away. It was hard to make out his features in the gloom, but his face was unmarred. The skin on the right side seemed a bit paler to her, but there was no sign of scarring. She resisted the urge to reach down and touch him and folded her hands behind her back instead. His eyelids flickered a bit and he shifted restlessly. She wanted to brush the hair back from his face, to touch his cheek to let him know she was here. Forcing herself back, she moved silently back to Jail and nodded to him. He opened the door and waited for her and Marrow to leave before exiting himself.

“For saying you trust me, you certainly didn’t take my word that he was all right,” Jail said with a smile as the door clicked shut behind them.

“I just wanted to see him,” she replied with her eyes still on the closed door.

“Well, he is much better company than the one I’m taking you to next.” Jail gave her a wink and led her across the hall to Neph’s door. He didn’t even so much as knock before pushing the door open and walking in. Jala’s eyes lingered on the cursed mark carved into Neph’s door and wondered which of his friends had put it there. With a resigned sigh, she followed Jail into the gloom of Neph’s eternally dark rooms. He sat at his chair much as he had the first time she had met him. He didn’t bother to look up from the book on his lap. He simply turned a page and continued to read as if they hadn’t barged in.

Jail closed the door behind them and motioned Jala to sit on the edge of the bed. She glanced at the bed then back to Jail and frowned, but did as he wanted. Neph continued to ignore them in favor of his book and Jala wondered how he could even read in this poor light.

“Shut it or eat it, your choice Neph,” Jail said in a harsher voice than she had yet heard from him.

Neph clicked his tongue against his teeth and flipped another page. “What do you want, you overgrown shaved ape?” he asked, his voice sounding disgusted.

“You to put down the bloody book for starters,” Jail replied, crossing his arms over his massive chest. He was looking down on Neph as if he might actually make the mage eat his book if he didn’t comply soon. Jala folded her hands in her lap and watched calmly. It might prove rather entertaining to see Neph eat a book. He certainly hadn’t given her any reason to stop Jail from force feeding him.

Neph closed the book with a slam that sent motes of dust flying through the dimly lit air and stood stretching. He dropped the book with a heavy thud onto the desk and took a step closer to Jail. Though Neph was tall, slightly over six feet, Jail still towered over him by several inches, his sheer mass of muscle making him seem even bigger.

“What?” Neph demanded of the larger man. If he was intimidated by Jail’s size, he gave no indication. “I’ve put the bloody book down and you have my full attention, so what in the hell do you want?” He glanced over at Jala, seeming to notice her for the first time, and gave a snort of disgust. “I’ve already told her I don’t give magic lessons. If you want her to learn how not to kill herself when casting, get Sovann.”

Jail gave a slight nod and shifted his shoulders, sending the muscles rippling down his back visible even through the linen of his shirt. “Neph, I told her you would be nice. If I have to tear out your tongue to make that possible, I will. Sit down, shut up, and listen. Once you have listened, you will understand why we’re here.” Jail’s voice was calm, but judging by the clenched muscles in his arm Jala had no doubt he would carry through with his threat. After all, she had shown herself a competent healer. If she could heal Finn’s numerous wounds, surely she could reattach a tongue.

The mage shifted his stance, his shoulders loosening, and he regarded them both again with a look of annoyance. “Fine, spit it out and then leave,” he snapped and dropped back into his chair.

“Why, exactly, are you friends with him again?” Jala asked, unable to remain silent any longer.

“Shut it, tart, Jail is speaking, not you, and then you are both going to get the hell out,” Neph snapped again, his voice cracking like a whip.

“Neph,” Jail said, making his name a warning. Neph glowered and remained silent motioning for Jail to speak. “I already talked to Sovann about this. He was unsure, so I’m going to ask you. I’ve gotten the entire story directly from Wisp’s and Finn’s minds, so I know this to be fact. The details are the same, so there is no denying this. Understand?” Jail began and waited for Neph to nod agreement. “She healed Finn. Wisp showed me the condition Finn was in. He should be dead, Neph. Even with a Life mage there, it would have been a close thing. Yet, he is lying in bed without so much as a scar and his eye is whole again. Wisp said the right eye had been burned away completely, but it’s there now and whole.” He paused, waiting for Neph’s acknowledgment.

“So she is a healer of rare skill. I’m not a healer, what does this have to do with me?” Neph asked, breaking into the silence.

Jail settled himself against the desk and shook his head. “Not done explaining. Midway through the healing, Wisp said Jala began to bleed from eyes and nose. Wisp says the blood was gold, not red.”

“Gold?” Neph cut in showing interest for the first time. He leaned forward in his chair and seemed to regard Jala in a new light.

“Gold?” Jala repeated. She had never noticed her blood being gold before. This was news to her.

“Still not finished,” Jail sighed with exasperation and continued once again. “Wisp then says that not long after the bleeding started, Jala’s eyes opened and they didn’t look quite right. She says it was as if they were glowing. I saw it in her mind, and it did seem to me that her eyes were giving off light. Wisp says Jala looked around as if in a daze and then began to draw magic from the Barllen on Finn’s swords.”

“Impossible,” Neph blurted, falling back into his seat and shaking his head. “Bloody fiction there, Jail, you can’t draw from Barllen it’s like a sponge to anything magical. That is the whole purpose of it after all.”

“I did draw from the Barllen. I knew it held magic, and I needed magic,” Jala cut in, drawing the stares of both men to her. “Well, it worked,” she pointed out defensively when they continued to stare.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to rebuild an eye?” Neph asked her, his attention full on her and nothing else.

She shook her head and started to speak, but he cut her off before she could even begin.

“Do you know what gold blood means?” he asked, his eyebrow raised now and once again not giving her a chance to answer. “Do you know why it is impossible to draw magic from Barllen?” he asked.

“Do you know what manners are?” she snapped back at him, tired of being bombarded with questions and not being allowed to speak.

Jail gave a chuckle and shook his head. “No, his parents taught him everything but that. Fighting and insults are valued more highly than manners in Delvay.”

“Well, if you would care to answer any of those questions I would greatly appreciate it, Neph. I admit I have no idea on any of them. I only did what I thought I must at the time,” she replied, keeping her voice polite and emphasizing her courtesy.

Neph eyed her for a moment, as if trying to decide if she was serious or mocking him. “An eye is one of the most difficult things on a body to rebuild. Most healers won’t even attempt it. There are so many difficulties on the repair that it seldom works well when they do. If Finn was seeing things poorly, though, I’m sure Jail would have mentioned it by now. Given that he is a duelist, you most likely saved his career as well as his life.” His voice was calm and almost polite. He paused and rose from his chair moving to a table and pouring wine into three glasses. He offered one to Jail and then brought one to Jala, as well. She took it, a bit taken aback by his courtesy, and waited for him to continue. Neph took a long drink from his own glass and eyed her silently.

“Was the gold blood a side effect of the magic I was drawing?” she asked at last, unable to take the silence.

He shook his head and inhaled deeply. Setting his wine down, he pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to her. “I want to see the gold before I continue. A little cut should do, just enough to break the skin.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at the knife and then to him. “You seriously expect me to cut myself to humor you?” she asked in disbelief.

Jail shifted his position and looked at Neph. “I tend to agree with Jala here, Neph, why is this necessary?”

Neph chewed on his lower lip and narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be trying to decide on something. “Jail, look at her Familiar.” Neph motioned toward Marrow and waited until Jail did, as well.

“A Bendazzi. I agree that is unusual,” Jail said with a slight nod.

“A full adult Bendazzi, and a big one at that. Then the healing with no training whatsoever, the fact that she lived through it, and we won’t forget the channeling from Barllen. What does that tell you Jail?” Neph spoke calmly, listing off the various points on his fingers as he recounted them.

“That she is one hell of a mage. That’s why we are in here, Neph, to get you to explain what we don’t understand,” Jail said, his tone unsure. He shrugged one of his massive shoulders and gave Jala a look that showed he was just as confused by Neph’s demands as she was.

Neph eyed him with a dry expression. “And you are a Mind Mage, how terribly frightening. Well, yes, Jail, it does mean she is one hell of a mage, but beyond that, just a single one of those things would be incredible. To combine them all into one person is unreal.” He turned from Jail and took a deep breath as if trying to compose himself. “I have to see the gold blood. It will confirm what I suspect. Just humor me, a prick on the damn finger.” Neph looked back to her and gave her an imploring look. “Do it, and I swear I will never be rude to you again. Hell I’ll even stick up for you if needed,” he said, his tone pleading.

“You should have said that to begin with. If it will get you to be civil I’ll put the knife through my hand. In the long run, it would be less painful than dealing with you,” Jala replied and drew the knife in a short line across her palm. The blade was well honed and cut easily with a light kiss of pain. Blood began to well along the cut in thick droplets. Even in the gloom of the room the deep gold color of it was obvious for all to see.

Neph barked a word in a language she was not familiar with and mage lights flicked on around the room blinding her momentarily. She closed her eyes and opened them again quickly as she felt warm hands cup her wounded hand. Neph crouched beside her, cradling her hand, his expression unreadable. “It’s truly gold,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Just like I said. Now what does it mean?” Jail prodded gently. He had moved closer for a better look and was eyeing the mage now as if he had gone a bit mad.

Neph waved a hand absently around the room and barked off more words that had the distinctive ring of magic to them. The air seemed to coalesce for a moment and then the sensation faded. He leaned back on his heels and looked up at her with an expression still neutral, but his blue eyes were shining. Almost reluctantly, he released her hand and ran his fingers through his blond hair, sending it into a state of dishevelment she had never seen on him before. Shaking his head with a bit of a chuckle, he dropped back off his heels and fully onto the floor. Crossing his legs under him, he looked up at her without a trace of his usual venom showing.

“What was the spell you just cast?” Jala asked quietly, more to get him to speak again than any true curiosity. She had a suspicion of what he had cast but to have him confirm it wouldn’t hurt.

“The room is secure now. No one can hear anything we say or scry on us without my knowing,” he replied. With a flip of his hand, he motioned Jail to take the chair he had so recently vacated and ran his fingers through his hair again. Jail sat, obviously bewildered by his friend’s change of attitude, and waited for Neph to speak again. Neph took a deep breath and smiled at Jail. “Sovann couldn’t answer this question, eh?” he asked. Jail shook his head in reply and Neph gave a weak chuckle and nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me, that line was never very religious.” He cleared his throat and searched for his wine absently, nodding his thanks and taking a deep swallow when Jail handed it to him.

“What exactly does religion have to do with it?” Jala asked, her confusion growing.

Neph finished off the last of his wine and set the empty glass down beside him. He gave another slight chuckle and sighed. “Do you know what a Divine is?” he asked. They both shook their heads in answer and Neph rolled his eyes. “Heathens, the both of you. A Divine is a god in truth, not an Immortal playing at god for the commons. A true honest Deity. A Divine can be known by its blood, which is the purest of silver.” He paused and looked to both of them making sure they were paying full attention. “A half-blood will have blood that is pale gold in color. A child of theirs will have a rich gold blood and so on. The red slowly returns to the blood each generation making it darker until the silver can no longer be seen. Most Immortal lines descend from one of the Divine, though it isn’t an easy thing. Often the child is too powerful for the mother and the birth will kill them both. Which is why finding anyone with any hint of silver in their blood, is so rare. I have read stories of it from books beyond the Barrier.” He paused and looked at Jala with what seemed to be reverence. “For her to have gold blood means a Divine is imprisoned with us. That’s the only explanation, if anyone in the High Houses had gold blood we would know.”

“So, Jala has Divine blood,” Jail surmised and looked Jala over with a nod. “I could see that from what I’ve gotten from Finn’s mind. She does seem to be rather exceptional.”

Jala blinked under the appraisal and shook her head. “No, my blood was red before the healing,” she assured them. “This must have something to do with the magic I used or something. I promise you that neither of my parents were Divine.”

“You weren’t fully awakened before the healing. You had never even entered a trance before. Sovann spoke with me about your difficulty with concentration,” Neph cut in before she could offer further objections. “I’m not sure what triggered it, but something did. Your Divine blood is awake now, and if Sovann thought you were powerful before, he is about to be overwhelmed. It’s like magic, Jala. The Bloodline will lie dormant. If you never awaken it, you never develop the powers.” He turned to Jail and shook his head in frustration. “That’s not the worst of it though. If anyone else finds out what she is, the High Lords will either be screaming for her death or demanding her hand in marriage. It’s a good thing Finn got her out of Morcaillo’s hall before this happened. If High Lord Morcaillo had learned of this, he would have killed his own wife to take Jala.”

“So we keep others from finding out,” Jail offered.

Neph gave him a look of annoyance. “That is going to become more and more difficult to do, especially with Rivana wanting her dead now. From what I understand, there was a Soul Reaver present when she healed Finn. He will have talked of it by now to someone and the Rivasans will know when they bring their dead back. It’s going to take more than Finn to keep her safe, Jail. It will most likely take all of us, Valor and Wisp included.”

“Why would you help me, Neph? You don’t even like me,” Jala spoke quietly, her eyes locked on the drying blood covering her palm.

“I never said I didn’t like you. I simply didn’t expect you to be around long, so I wasn’t going to waste my time befriending you. Now, however, I myself will ensure you will be around, so it’s okay to be nice to you. I don’t care if Finn loses interest, you will remain in this hall. Unlike the rest in this hall, Jala, I am not a heathen. I have the highest regard for the Divine,” he spoke with finality in his voice

“Okay, so we need to get everyone together and discuss this quietly. Not now, though. She just woke up, and I think she deserves some time to sort this out. This can wait until Finn is awake and she feels better,” Jail said, and Neph nodded his agreement.

Jala smiled up at the big man with gratitude clear on her face. “Thank you, Jail, and thank you for explaining everything, Neph. I think I will go back to my room now. I have so much to think about,” she said, her voice soft and already distant. Between Anthae’s words and now Neph’s revelations, she thought the only safe course ahead of her was to find a dark corner off the charted maps and hide. Hiding wouldn’t bring her family back, though, and it wouldn’t restore Merro. If she wanted her home back, she didn’t have much of a choice. There was still the matter of speaking with the Lord of Oblivion, as well. She wasn’t sure how she was going to go about accomplishing that. Not only did she not want to speak with the man responsible for destroying her home, she sincerely doubted he would have any desire to speak with her.

Chapter 28

Sanctuary

The one who left us is outside the window, I can smell his scent on the air, Marrow’s words drew her back from her contemplations. She had been pacing her room for what felt like hours. Frowning, she crossed the room and pulled the curtains back. Evening had fallen, and the garden beyond her room was thick with shadow. Pausing only long enough to glance back at Marrow, she flipped the locks on her window and pushed it open. Leaning outside, she looked left and right. The night breeze brushed against her, blowing strands of her hair across her face. Brushing it back, she looked around again and spotted him not far away, unmoving and silently watching her.

“Shade, what are you doing here?” she hissed. While she understood why he had left, she wasn’t sure if her companions in this hall would. This was not the safest place for him to be at the moment.

He crossed the ground quickly, stopping near her. He looked over his shoulder as if he had come to the same conclusion and was on guard. “I came to see you to make sure you were OK. I’m so sorry, Jala, really. I should have stayed. I should have defied him. I have been kicking myself for leaving since that day.” His words came out in a hushed flood, thick with raw emotion.

“I understand why you left, Shade. I’m not angry with you. That wasn’t your fight,” Jala assured him and stole a glance over her shoulder. “Marrow, watch the door and warn me if anyone approaches,” she whispered to the Bendazzi and looked back to Shade.

I should tell them he is here, Marrow grumbled. While she had forgiven Shade, the Bendazzi apparently had not.

“Shade, you shouldn’t be here, it isn’t safe.” Jala warned him, hoping Marrow’s threat had been an idle one. He nodded and took her hand lightly in his. “Jala, it isn’t safe here for you either. You need to get out of Sanctuary. I’m leaving tonight. I only stayed to speak with you first. Come with me.”

Caught off guard by his words, she spent a moment just staring at him. Shaking her head, she blinked and shook her head at him again, more emphatically. “I can’t leave, Shade, and I can’t explain why. At least not yet, but I can’t leave.” She bit her lip and tried to make him meet her eyes, willing him to understand.

“Jala, they want you dead or in their control. I overheard my father speaking with Lord Avanti. My own father wants me dead, as well. I’m going to the Fionaveir, come with me. Finn can’t protect you, Jala. It’s only a matter of time before they get him exiled and once they do he is as good as dead. Please listen to me, I know you care about him, but staying with him will just make his life more dangerous. They will be more determined to kill him to get to you.” Shade’s voice was desperate as he spoke and his grip on her hand had become painful.

Measuring his words carefully, Jala tried to sort them in her mind. From what he said it sounded as if the High Lords already knew far too much about her. Still, if she left now, she would be giving up Merro and Finn. She shook her head again. “Shade, I can’t leave. You don’t understand. I wish I could explain it to you, but it’s too dangerous. I have to stay here,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“Jala, please,” he pleaded, and his tone brought glassiness to her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much Shade cared about her. “I don’t want to leave you here. If you have to, wake Finn and I’ll get him out, as well, if that’s what it takes,” he offered finally.

Lowering her eyes, she shook her head once more and felt the first of the tears trickle down her cheeks. They had sent her to the Academy for a purpose and until she knew the reason, leaving here might destroy future chances. She couldn’t leave now. She had to know more. “I can’t,” she said again, her voice barely audible.

His grip on her hand slowly loosened, and she felt his hand fall away from hers. She didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see the look on his face right now. “Then take care, Jala, and remember my warning. You are not safe here,” he said finally, his tone filled with defeat.

The night fell silent, and she didn’t need to look up to know he was gone. Leaning heavily on the window sill, she brushed the tears back from her face and hoped she had done the right thing. Maybe Fortune had sent Shade to get her out of here, or maybe he had just come. There were simply too many things she didn’t know right now. Pushing back from the window, she closed it and locked it back. Not bothering to reset the curtains, she left her room silently with Marrow padding behind her like a second shadow.

Finn was still asleep when she entered his room, and she gave a wordless sigh as she closed the door behind her and selected a bottle from his table. Glass in hand she sat down in a chair near the bed and poured herself a drink. It was possible the drink could settle her nerves. It would be nice to be more composed when he did wake up. She needed someone she trusted to help her sort this mess out, and if that meant waiting until Finn woke up, she was fine with that.

Sunlight shone down on her cheek warming it to uncomfortable measures. Stirring sleepily, she rolled away from the light and encountered an obstacle in her movement. Blinking her eyes open, she stared down at the arm across her. Turning slightly, she traced its line back up to Finn’s sleeping form. Her gaze traveled to the table beside the bed and her eyes locked on the empty decanter with the glass lying on its side near the edge of the table. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked down at Finn and cringed at the pounding of her head. The blankets fell away from her as she moved, and the cool air prickled across her skin. Absently, she rubbed her arms and then looked down in alarm as she encountered nothing but flesh. Eyes widening, she raised the blanket and looked down at herself. She was entirely naked, without a stitch of clothing to be seen. The pounding in her head increased and she dropped the blanket back down, clutching it under her ears.

“You told me not to give you the potion to cure drunkenness again, so I let you remain drunk,” Finn said, his voice still thick from sleep. His eyes were closed and he hadn’t moved yet.

“We didn’t…uh…we uh,” she stammered, unsure how exactly she should phrase the question.

Finn’s eyes snapped open and he looked at her with an offended glare. “I don’t care how drunk you were, Jala, you would have remembered if we had,” he said, his tone indignant.

“Well, where are my clothes?” She protested and raised a hand to her head. Raising her voice had been a very bad idea and her skull felt as though it was going to split apart.

“You fouled them rather well when you vomited in my trash can,” Finn replied, his expression returning to his usual smirk.

Her jaw dropped, and she felt the blood drain from her face at his words. “Oh, I did. Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her embarrassment now heating her face with a furious blush.

Laughing gently, Finn shook his head at her. “I keep six or seven decanters of hard alcohol in my room at any given time. Surely, you don’t think I’ve never been drunk enough to vomit.” He tugged her back down beside him and rested a hand gently on her temple. “I’m not much of a healer but I can cure a hangover. It’s a skill I’ve honed to perfection,” he promised, and she felt her headache easing and then fading completely.

“Did I make a fool of myself?” she asked, fearing the answer.

He crossed his arms behind his head and shrugged. “I woke up when you were already half way through the bottle. Your crying was what woke me. I spent a bit trying to figure out what was wrong, and you did talk some. You cried mostly and drank more and babbled a lot drunkenly. Most of it, I didn’t understand.” He brushed some hair back from her face and met her gaze. “Some of it, I did, though, Milady,” he finished.

“I am horrible at keeping secrets,” she said mournfully.

“You did promise you would tell me,” he pointed out in her defense.

“I did,” she agreed with a nod. “Jail knows too,” she added with a frown.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his look incredulous. “You told Jail before me? You just met Jail,” he said, sounding a bit insulted.

“I didn’t tell him. He saw it when he checked my mind for damage,” she explained. He seemed to relax and gave a nod of acceptance. “There is more, though, I’m not sure what I babbled about to you and what I still need to tell you.”

“Mostly, it was about Shade wanting to save you, but you couldn’t let him. Then how you didn’t want me to die and then more about Shade. You only mentioned your home once or twice. The crying seemed to revolve primarily around my dying. Which I would normally laugh about, but given recent events it doesn’t seem quite so funny,” Finn said with a sigh.

“Then you haven’t talked to Neph or Jail yet?” she asked hesitantly.

“Mmm, no, should I have?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“Neph wants to explain it to everyone. I’d rather he be the one to tell you,” she said as she wrapped the covers around her tighter.

Finn’s eyes narrowed and he looked over at her. “You remember how I said I would kill Valor if you chose him,” he began, his voice low.

“No,” she cut in shaking her head. “No, no, nothing like that,” she said again following the path of his thoughts and not liking the ending. “Oh, Fortune, no. Are you insane, Finn?” She shook her head in disbelief and rested her head back on the pillow.

Finn’s expression lightened and he burst into laughter. “Can I tell him how you reacted to that suggestion, please? I’d love to see the look on Neph’s face,” he asked, still laughing.

She gave him a dry expression and shook her head. “Don’t you dare, he has just decided that he can consider me “friend,” and if you ruin that I won’t forgive you,” she warned.

He grinned at her and rolled closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her up against him. “Fine then. I can’t have you mad at me,” he agreed amiably.

She squirmed a bit trying to move away. “Finn, I’m naked. I really shouldn’t be cuddled against you like this,” she objected, trying to silence the voice in her that thought she should, in fact, cuddle closer.

“No, you shouldn’t. We should be cuddled in different ways. If you will give me a few moments I’ll remedy that,” he teased.

“I told you I wouldn’t ever sleep with you.” She squirmed again trying to get out from under his arm. He watched her with amusement on his features. and raised an eyebrow at her when she finally gave up. “Will you let me up, please?” she asked with a resigned sigh.

He shook his head and grinned. “Nope. I’m perfectly happy with where you are right now. As far as never sleeping with me, well, you’ve already broken that rule. As I recall, you woke up right there.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she objected, while straining against his arm, trying to lift it. If it budged an inch, she couldn’t tell. Releasing her grip on his arm, she looked at him in helpless annoyance. “What if I need to use the privy?” she asked.

“Do you?” he returned.

She frowned at him, and he laughingly moved his arm. “Feel free to get up then.” He sat up on the bed and leaned back against the headboard watching her.

“Could you maybe look the other way?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m the one that put you to bed. I’ve seen you naked,” he reminded her.

Her blush returned and she glared at him. “I realize that, but I wasn’t awake then to object. I am now. Would you please look away?” she asked again through clenched teeth.

He smothered a chuckle and shook his head, a wide grin on his face. “Nope,” he said and motioned for her to get up.

Snatching the blanket off the top of the bed, she wrapped it around herself and rose with as much dignity as she could muster. She tilted her chin upward a bit, and sniffed indignantly at him. “You are an ass, Finn,” she said turning and partially tripping on the blanket as she exited the room. Thankfully the hall was clear as she hurried back to her own room. Closing the door behind her, she looked around, realizing Marrow hadn’t followed her in. She opened the door a crack to look back out at the hallway and found it empty.

Turning back around she spotted the Bendazzi sprawled on her bed, his belly rounded from a recent meal. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were in Finn’s room with me,” she said, shutting the door once more.

Marrow opened an eye and sat up with an exaggerated yawn stretching his legs and flexing his claws as he did so. He shook himself and hopped down off the bed to sit. Looking up at her, he yawned again, showing rows of sharp white teeth. Your wailing made my head hurt and your mate had things in order. So I begged food from Wisp and took a nap, he explained.

“He is not my mate,” she objected mildly. Ignoring his growling snicker, she locked the door and headed straight toward the bathtub. She had obviously been cleaned before they put her to bed but somehow the magical cleaning wasn’t quite the same as bathing. She dropped the blanket on her bed as she passed and used a simple spell Sovann had taught her to fill the tub with steaming hot water. Sliding down into it, she let herself sink down below the water. She closed her eyes and relaxed letting the stress of the past week fade as much as it would.

Why are you so stressed? Marrow asked, his puzzlement clear.

I never expected to be a High Lady of any house. I don’t know the first thing about being nobility. I would run the other way as fast as I could, if it weren’t for my family. When I first called you, I showed you the wasteland as my home. In my heart, it is my home, Marrow, and I have a chance to rebuild it. I just don’t know how or where to start, she explained, using the link rather than rising from the water to speak aloud.

Shouldn’t that make you happy, though, not so worried. It can’t be too difficult, he objected. While Marrow had a very good grasp of most human behavior, some of it was still quite puzzling to him. To a Bendazzi, this was a simple matter and nothing to get upset over.

They won’t want me to gain power, Marrow. The High Lords will try to kill me before I can. It will be a delicate dance to stay alive long enough to rebuild. Frowning at the thought, she sat up from the water and smoothed her hair back. There was no real hope of total relaxation with everything on her mind. With a sigh, she turned to simply bathing quickly and climbed from the water.

Why don’t we kill them first? Marrow asked. Judging by the time it had taken him to speak again he must have been putting considerable thought into her problem.

She stopped in front of the mirror and glanced his way before looking back at her own reflection. Because that isn’t the way things are done, and I don’t want to have to kill them. I’d rather only fight to defend myself, she replied, frowning at her image in the mirror once more.

Sighing, she toweled herself dry, trying to ignore how painfully thin she was now. It was a wonder Finn had still found her attractive at all in this state. That thought stopped her from continued drying, and she stared at the mirror image. The thought of no longer being attractive to Finn was unreasonably upsetting to her. Frowning, she drew from her magic cautiously and tried to restore her body to what it had been before. Nodding happily, she watched her limbs thicken once more and the skeletal appearance fall away. On impulse, she drew on the magic again and her body gained more curves than it had originally held. She stepped back and surveyed her work with a growing smile. “Much better,” she murmured. Another caress of magic and her hair darkened to a deep burgundy with only a few strands of curls remaining the original mulberry.

You are vain, Marrow pointed out, dropping his head back down onto his paws as he watched her.

She stuck her tongue out at him and continued testing her magics. With a wave of her hand, she summoned a dress so dark purple it was almost black. She carefully pulled at the magic until the low cut bodice fit like a glove and the skirts flowed down her side like the sheerest of silk. “I wonder,” she mumbled to herself, and set the color of the dress swirling slowly with various shades of purple. Stepping back, she examined herself again, watching the dress to see if the patterns would continue to shift once she had stopped focusing. To her delight they did and she grinned happily, looking over at Marrow with a wide smile. If the Bendazzi was impressed, he hid it well, merely twitching an ear to acknowledge her. So I’m vain. There are worse faults, you know. She sighed and went back to her reflection a bit disappointed that he hadn’t shared her enthusiasm. Of course, asking a predator to admire a dress was rather foolish on her part, she supposed.

At least you are willing to admit it, Marrow replied.

“I’m more than willing to admit to my faults,” she said not bothering to look at him. With another few quick gestures, she fixed her hair and added jewels. She cocked her head at her reflection again and turned from side to side examining the results. Her hair was swept up with only a few tendrils curling down by her face. Rather than one of her jeweled nets it was held in place with magic. She had accented it here and there with sparkling amethyst that seemed to catch and hold the light. “Do I look like a High Lady?” She asked Marrow, turning fully to the Bendazzi and holding her hands out delicately to her sides.

Marrow looked her over and twitched his tail in thought. No, they scowl a lot more from what I’ve seen.

She mimicked a scowl such as she’d seen Cassia use, and Marrow nodded his agreement. With a giggle, she let the expression fall from her face. “I don’t think I could maintain that look for long,” she admitted with a shrug.

She was darkening her lips and adding more ostentatious jewelry when a light knock came at her door. Blushing as if she had been caught playing dress up with her mother’s clothes she looked at the door not wanting to respond.

“Jala, are you awake?” Wisp called through the door, her tone cautious.

“I am. Come in and shut the door quickly behind you,” Jala called back, relieved that it was Wisp and no one else. Wisp might actually understand the desire to play dress up.

The door opened and the small Fae darted in and shut the door quickly behind her. She turned to Jala, her mouth open to speak, and froze simply staring.

Jala’s blush deepened and she waved a hand at herself absently. “I was just playing around with my magic, Wisp. I don’t actually plan on leaving my room like this,” she explained, her embarrassment growing by the moment.

Shaking herself from the daze, Wisp moved forward quickly her eyes wide. “No, Jala, you look beautiful. It’s just the way you looked when we brought you back, I didn’t expect to see you looking, well, better than any other woman I’ve ever seen,” she said quickly, pulling Jala’s hands back down before she could remove the earrings she had been reaching for. “You were so thin and weak, and now you are so…well, stunning.”

“Stunning,” Jala repeated the word and smiled happily. “Do you really think so?” she asked a bit giddy. Realizing how foolish she must look she calmed herself back down and tried to force an expression of dignity back onto her face.

“This is perfect, actually. They sent me to get you and I can’t wait to lead you in looking like this,” Wisp bubbled with obvious delight.

“Who sent you? Lead me in where?” Jala asked.

“Neph sent me to get you. He has everyone gathered in Finn’s room, and they have food. Jail thought you would be hungry, so they waited till the food arrived to get you,” Wisp explained, already tugging her toward the door.

Planting her feet Jala shook her head. “I don’t want to go in there looking like this. Let me change,” she objected, grabbing onto a chair as the Fae continued to drag her. The little Fae really was quite stronger than she looked, Jala realized, as her grip on the chair began to slip.

“Oh, stop it; you are acting like a cat before a bath. C’mon, it will be fun,” Wisp coaxed as they neared the door.

“No, really, I’d like to change,” Jala pressed, grabbing onto the door frame as Wisp swung it open. “It won’t take me more than a…Ouch!” The last coming out more of a squeak than actual word and she looked back at the Bendazzi and rubbed her backside. “You bit me,” she accused.

Only lightly and it got you through the door. Now follow Wisp, this is the price of vanity as a fault, Marrow said with a toothy Bendazzi smile.

“Traitor,” Jala grumbled and followed after Wisp who was giggling merrily at her pain. She turned her frown to Wisp and shook her head at the Fae. “Sadist,” she mumbled which sent Wisp into further fits of giggling.

Everyone was present in Finn’s room, she noted as she entered. Even Sovann was there though he didn’t even attend the Academy. Chairs had been brought in, and everyone but Finn was seated. Finn himself was sprawled on the bed and had apparently been involved in an animated discussion with Valor before they entered. Upon hearing the door open, everyone looked up, and as it clicked shut behind her, the room was deathly quiet. All eyes were on her, and Jala could have kicked Wisp for not letting her change.

“Brought her as directed,” Wisp said with a grin and bowed to Jala. “The floor is yours, madam.”

Jala looked around at all of the faces turned to her and lifted a hand and waved slowly at them. “Hi, umm, please stop staring,” she said quietly and several sets of eyes suddenly shifted from her.

“Here, take my chair,” Valor offered, getting up quickly and motioning to his seat. “I’ll get you some food. Jail said you would be hungry.” He moved before she could reply and she simply nodded and sat down.

“I’ll kill you, Val,” Finn warned, his eyes fixed on his friend.

“For what? Getting her food?” Valor asked, his expression nothing but innocence as he handed her a plate and sat a glass of wine down beside her. Valor smiled down at her, his blue eyes sparkling. By the look of him, he was planning on his usual trips to the bars soon. He was dressed in his house colors of black and silver, and his hair was pulled back and tied with an elegant black ribbon. By far he was the best dressed in the room with the exception of herself.

“I know what you are doing, Val, and I’m just saying I will kill you,” Finn said, repeating his warning.

Valor looked offended at the suggestion and shook his head at Jala. “I have no idea what he is speaking of, but apparently he finds my courtesy distressing,” he said, his tone sounding mildly offended.

“For the love of the Aspects, sit down and shut up, Valor,” Neph’s voice cut off any further comment the young knight might have had, and Valor found a spot on the foot of the bed to sit. Neph glanced over at Jala and raised an eyebrow. “Want me to tell them or would you like to?” he asked.

Jala motioned for him to go ahead. “I’ll eat while you do and answer any questions if they have them. It’s probably best that you explain it anyway, you will likely do a better job of it.” Neph gave her a nod and she flashed him a smile of gratitude and began to eat. She hadn’t even considered eating yet, and the smell of food had made her realize how long it had been since she had eaten. They had doubtless used magic to sustain her during her days-long slumber, but since she had awakened, she hadn’t had a thing.

“As everyone in this room knows, I have spell warded this area so no one outside of this room can hear a word. Which means if anything we speak of in here leaves this room and becomes gossip, Finn is most likely going to kill someone. He has already shown Valor he is unreasonably protective and violent.” Neph flashed a smile at Finn.

“True words,” Finn agreed with a smile.

“Everyone in this room also knows that Jala, Finn, and Wisp recently went to see the Oracle in the Tolanteer forest. What you don’t know is what the witch told her. While I don’t know everything she said, I do know the important part. Jala is the last surviving member of House Merrodin.” He paused again letting the information sink in. “While this alone would be enough to get her killed, there is more. While on the way back they were attacked and like an idiot, Finn nearly got himself killed.”

“He was protecting me,” Jala objected, cutting him off.

Neph snickered lightly and nodded to her in acknowledgment. “As you can see, Milady is protective over Finn as well,” he said in apology. A few chuckles echoed through the room, and Finn gave her a wink. “At any rate, Finn got a big ouchie. Jala healed him, and thus awakened the other side of her family tree. Apparently she is Merrodin on Daddy’s side and part Divine on Mommy’s. So every High Lord on this damn planet is either going to want to bed her or kill her,” he finished.

“It will take all of us to keep her safe,” Jail said, as the room grew quiet once more. “We have to keep this a secret as long as possible. Jala still has a lot to learn before she can handle them alone.”

“Speaking of learning,” Neph said, once Jail had fallen silent. “Sovann, you take her in the mornings before the Academy and teach her the fundamentals of Magic. I’ll take her in the evenings after school and teach her battle techniques. Agreeable with you?”

Sovann nodded his acceptance of the suggestion. “If it is all right with Jala, that is fine with me. She expressed a desire to build her reservoir using mage stones; can you help her with that after your practice?” he asked, his attention focused more on Neph than Jala. “It would be best to do in the evenings before bed, so she regains her strength while sleeping.”

Neph gave a nod and settled back into his chair apparently satisfied.

“Swords would be good as well,” Valor pointed out. “There are times when magic simply isn’t the best choice.”

“Finn can teach her swords,” Neph said, cutting Valor off before he could volunteer to help.

“When? If Sovann has her in the mornings and you have her at night. She will have the Academy during the day and a lot to catch up on there, she has already missed a week,” Valor objected.

Jala watched them in dismay and tried to decide if she should even attempt to add an opinion. This was not at all the reaction she had expected. Looking over at Finn, she found him watching her with a grin. He looked around the room and mouthed the words “Watch this” to her as he rose slowly from the bed. Moving with smooth deliberate steps over to stand in front of her, he drew his sword and dropped to a knee in front of her. The room fell deathly silent the moment his knee touched the carpet. He gave her another wink, and she looked at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

He rolled his eyes at her and bowed his head over his sword. “I, Finn Sovaesh, swear before all in this room that I serve Lady Jaladene Merrodin. By every ounce of strength and drop of my blood, I will defend and serve Milady in whatever cause she sets before me. By the Aspects and Divine, I swear my life and soul to her for now and always,” he spoke in a calm, steady voice and looked up at her with the last words.

“I don’t know what to say, I’ve never heard a vow given before,” she said quietly.

“Say you accept my sword into your service, and I’ll be content,” Finn replied with the hint of a smile.

“I accept your sword gladly, Finn, and wish I had the proper words to tell you how much your vow means to me,” she said, still watching him in amazement. The room was silent around them. Apparently everyone had been as shocked as Jala by his actions.

Finn stood slowly and winked at her. “See, I know how to shut them up,” he whispered with his usual grin returning. He crossed the room again and dropped back onto his bed letting his sword drop beside him.

It was Sovann that knelt next, followed by Wisp and then Neph. Jala listened to their vows and accepted their pledges, her hope growing stronger with every word spoken. With the help of the people in this room, rebuilding Merro was becoming more attainable by the moment. Jail waited until the others had seated themselves and gave his own vow, seeming horribly amused as he did so. One by one, her newly made court looked to Valor who, out of everyone, had remained still and silent.

Jala shook her head and smiled. “Valor barely knows me,” she explained.

“It’s not that,” Valor objected. “I’m debating on whether or not my father would kill me. I’m a second son and unlikely to inherit, but he expects me to serve in Arovan’s army one day,” he explained.

“In his shadow of course,” Finn agreed with a nod. “Understandable, Val, you would likely be most comfortable there and we understand.”

Finn had barely finished speaking before Valor was kneeling before her, his sword point down and swearing his own vows. The others in the room managed to keep their laughter to themselves until after she had accepted his sword and motioned for him to rise.

She looked around the room and smiled at everyone, shaking her head slightly. “You all realize I’m poor, what’s left of my people are starving beggars and my lands are in ruins, right?” she asked.

“Bloody hell. Now, she tells us,” Neph growled and the room broke into laughter once more. Neph waited for it to die down and grinned at her. “Of course we do. There isn’t a single person in this room that would give his word for money.” He glanced at Finn and smirked. “Well, except perhaps Finn, but he is more of a whore with his swords than his honor.” Finn rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Neph. Grinning, the Mage dodged and turned back to her. “We are a bit different from your typical lords and ladies. You see, we can’t be bought.”

“That isn’t what I meant at all. I know you aren’t like that. It’s just I’m not sure what exactly I am supposed to do with a court when I don’t have a kingdom,” Jala explained quickly.

“You don’t have a kingdom yet,” Finn pointed out, emphasizing the last word.

“If I’m ever going to get one I need to speak with the Lord of Oblivion,” she sighed. That task alone seemed near impossible to her.

“I can arrange that easily enough,” Wisp offered. “The Harvest festival will be going on in my lands in two weeks. I can arrange for you to speak with him there, and no one will think a thing about us going to the festival, so we can keep it quiet.”

“Your father’s lands,” Neph corrected. “Your lands are now the Merro Wastes, remember?”

Wisp blushed and shrugged at Jala. “Going to take me a bit of time to adjust to this. Bear with me, please.”

Jala smiled and nodded. “It will take all of us time to adjust I think. That would be wonderful if you can arrange it though Wisp. I really had no idea how I would get someone from Oblivion to talk to me.”

“Wisp will take care of it,” Finn said sitting up on his bed once more. “Now, all of you but Jala, outta my room and take your chairs with you.” He motioned to the door, and his friends rose with a few complaints and more laughter. He watched them leave and looked over at Jala.

“That was rude,” she pointed out with a smile.

He shrugged. “If you are training with Sovann in the morning and Neph at night and attending school during the day, it really doesn’t leave me much time for your company. So, if I have to be rude to get you alone, I will.”

“I didn’t expect all of that,” she said quietly. Raising the wine to her lips she took a drink and shook her head again. “This all seems like a dream, I keep expecting to wake up.”

“I knew they would if I took the first step. It wasn’t that they needed me to goad them into it. It was simply that none of them had considered it. Most of them come from rather important houses themselves. The idea of swearing an oath to another house had likely never crossed their minds,” he explained.

“Thank you,” the words were simple ones, but her tone added volumes with its sincerity.

“It wasn’t my first choice, simply the one I knew you would accept,” he replied with a shrug.

“What was your first choice?” she asked, looking over to him.

He leaned back on his arms and smiled at her. “Getting you out of Sanctuary. I thought about offering it this morning, but after listening to how you turned down Shade, I decided I didn’t want the same rejection. I have family in Firym that would have granted me lands, or if not there, Valor would have given me a place on his lands.” With a shrug, he rose to his feet and stretched. “But I know you want Merro back and you have to be Lady Merrodin to do that. So leading my friends into your service was the next best option.” He walked over to the small table and poured himself a drink. Raising the glass in her direction, he gave her another fainter smile. “To Lady Merrodin,” he said, flourishing the glass in her direction. Without pausing, he raised the glass and drained its contents entirely and poured another.

“What’s wrong, Finn? Are you upset because you thought I wouldn’t leave with you? Honestly, I don’t know what I would have chosen if you asked.” She rose and moved toward him. She could feel his agitation. It wasn’t truly anger that she felt from him, but deep frustration, and she wasn’t sure what was causing it.

“Neph is right, every High Lord with a son is going to be after you, and eventually you are going to find one that you won’t let me kill.” Raising the glass to his lips, he drained the second glass. She put a hand over the decanter before he could pour a third. He raised an eyebrow at her and looked down at her hand. “What? You can get rolling drunk but I have limits?” he asked.

“I don’t think there is a single High Lord or any of his children that could compare with you, Finn. No one would treat me as well as you do and you are quite possibly the most honest person in Sanctuary. Who could I trust like I do you?” She moved her hand from the decanter but he didn’t reach for it. He set his glass down instead and took one of her hands in his.

“I had never even contemplated commitment before I met you, Jala, and I don’t have to contemplate it with you at all. I am committed. Regardless of what choice you make concerning marriage, I am yours in mind body and soul.”

“So marry me, then, and spare me the High Lords attentions. I don’t want any of them,” she said and then clamped her mouth shut realizing she had spoken aloud what she had been thinking.

Finn released her hand abruptly and moved to the door so fast she thought her words had sent him into full flight. Mentally, she cursed herself and turned to the table and poured a glass from the decanter. Still kicking herself for speaking, she downed it so fast she didn’t realize it was Firewater until the glass was empty. Gasping from the taste, she bent double, one hand clutching the table for support. Dimly, she realized Finn had not fled and was leaning out the doorway looking into the hall.

“Sovann, get in here,” he yelled out the door. She had recovered from the drink by the time Sovann entered the room looking as bewildered as she felt. Finn hastily moved to his closet and grabbed a few articles of clothing. He grabbed his sword as he passed the bed and replaced it on his belt, moving with an urgency that left her completely confused. “I need you to cast a transport,” he said to his brother who was watching him patiently waiting for an explanation.

“Is something wrong?” Sovann asked, eyes flicking to Jala with concern.

“No, nothing is wrong. She made an offer that I intend to act on before she can change her mind,” Finn replied, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to him. “Marrow, move closer if you are coming. Sovann take us to Fallanor,” Finn ordered.

Jala looked down at Marrow beside her and then back to Finn and finally to Sovann as the mage began casting a spell. “Where is Fallanor?” she asked dazedly, still not quite believing this was happening.

“Capital city of Firym. My great uncle lives there,” Finn explained as Sovann finished the spell and the room around them faded.

Chapter 29

Faydwer Border

“Set the ship down here. We will have to go the rest of the way on horseback,” Lex said, motioning to a clearing below.

Shade glanced at him and checked the map as he began to ease the ship down. “This is Faydwer,” he said glancing at Lex again in confusion.

Lex gave him a slow nod and smiled. “Yes, I do, in fact, know my way home, Shade. This is the Faydwer Firym border, actually. The Fionahold is in the Rilken Mountains,” he said grinning at the expression his words brought to Shade’s face.

“That’s not even four hours from Morcath by spell hawk,” Shade stammered. The ship settled in the grass of the clearing, and Shade moved his hands from the controls. “Are you telling me that the infamous Fionaveir practically live in my former backyard?”

Nodding, Lex stood from his seat and walked to the back of the ship and lifting two of the crates containing the horses, he headed for the door. “Get the other two horses and I’ll be showing you that they live in your former backyard.”

Leah rose from her chair and stretched her arms over her head and gave him a faint smile. “Help Oma, Shade, and I’ll get the horses,” she offered.

“It will be rather nice to be out of the city won’t it, Oma?” Shade said forcing a smile on his face. He offered her a hand and helped her from her seat. The Empath had been quiet and shaking since they had left the city. Between his wild emotions for the past few days and the turmoil of leaving Madren, Oma had been overwhelmed by Shade’s emotions. He had tried to convince Madren to come, practically begging him. That had gone as well as his attempted rescue of Jala. It was rather difficult to save someone who didn’t want to be saved, he had realized. He knew Oma needed him to keep his emotions steady now. He turned his thoughts away from everything he had left behind in Sanctuary. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been to Faydwer. My father didn’t get along too well with their High Lord. It will be something new for both of us,” he said trying to get some reaction from her. She didn’t even look at him as he spoke, just followed along behind as he led her off the ship.

“We still have Jala’s horse here. I think we should put Oma on him. He was steady in the Tolanteer,” Leah said as they approached. She handed him the reins to the black and white gelding and gave Oma a smile. “He didn’t even spook around the Bendazzi,” Leah told her with a reassuring smile.

Oma regarded the horse with a blank expression and nodded silently to Leah. Frowning, Shade helped the girl into the saddle and handed her the reins. “Give me just a minute to get my own horse and I’ll be back,” he told her.

“She isn’t doing well,” Lex said as Shade approached. “I’m not sure how she will take Fionahold. It’s full of people and there is always stress,” he warned.

“I couldn’t just leave her in Sanctuary. Maybe there will be a mage there that can help her somehow. I’ve never been able to find anyone she would trust enough to help her, and I don’t know the first thing about Empaths.” Shade sighed and took his reins from Lex. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at Lex’s chosen mount. “Finn’s horse?” he asked.

“It’s a good horse. I’m not going to leave it to rot on the ship. Besides, his cousin is a Fionaveir, he can get the animal back to him along with Jala’s,” Lex replied with a shrug. “Gem the ship and let’s go. I’d like to get up the first pass before its dark.”

Nodding his agreement, Shade stored the ship and led his horse back over to Oma. Patting her gently on the leg, he looked up at Oma with a smile. “It will be okay, Oma, I promise. The Fionahold hasn’t been found in three hundred years. It’s bound to be safer than Sanctuary.”

She gave him another silent nod and turned her gaze toward the mountains. Shade followed her gaze and wondered just how far into the Rilkens they would have to go. From what he could see, their road was thick with pines and black stone cliffs. It didn’t look as though it would be an easy ride, and the thought of navigating it in the dark was not a pleasant one. He had never been much for the outdoors and greatly preferred flying to riding. “You know I could probably find a place to land deeper in the mountains. I am the best pilot there is,” Shade called over his shoulder to the twins.

“Not possible. Magic isn’t allowed near the Fionahold,” Lex said with a smile as he rode past at a light canter. “Get on your horse, Shade, daylight is burning.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘magic isn’t allowed?’” Shade yelled after him, quickly getting on his horse and kicking it into a trot to catch up with Lex. He glanced back once to make sure Oma’s horse was following but otherwise remained intent on catching up.

“I mean they don’t allow us to use magic at the Fionahold, not even Mage Lights. With as many people as we have living there, the signature it produced would be clear to anyone with mage sight. It’s a security measure, Shade. Don’t worry you will adjust. It won’t really matter anyway if you are field operative. You won’t be there enough to notice,” Lex said once Shade had gotten within hearing range.

“You think they will accept me then?” Shade asked.

“I’ll speak for you. They will accept you,” Lex assured him and slowed his horse back to a trot.

“There is a bit of a confession I need to make, Lex,” Shade began. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder to see where Leah and Oma were on the trail. Satisfied that they were out of hearing range he looked back at Lex. “About what I am. I don’t want to go into this new life swimming in secrets like I was before. But it may change your willingness to speak for me, so I need to tell you now.”

“I doubt it will change my speaking for you, Shade. I don’t care what you are, it’s who you are that counts, and I’ve known you long enough to figure that out,” Lex replied. “Still, if you need to get it off your chest spit it out.”

“I’m a Changeling, Lex,” Shade blurted out and was amazed at how easy the words were to speak. He had been taught his whole life to guard that secret, and it had just rolled off his tongue. “It’s not just a trace of Changeling blood either, Lex, not like I can just shift forms. I am full blown straight-out-of-the-scary bedtime-stories Changeling,” he added after a moment of Lex’s silence.

“So you can imitate people perfectly just like in the stories?” Lex asked, his tone curious rather than suspicious, as Shade had feared it would be.

“If I know enough about the person, yes,” Shade replied.

“So you could imitate me?” Lex asked, his voice still calm.

Shade frowned and nodded slowly. “Yes, I know you well enough for that,” he answered somewhat hesitantly.

“Good, my mother lives at the Fionahold. If I find myself on her wrong side, you can imitate me and take the lecturing. That should make us even for my speaking for you to the council.” Lex grinned at him. “Like I said, Shade, I don’t care what you are. I know who you are. I’m not worried in the least about you betraying us. Besides, I knew you were a Changeling already.”

“You what?” Shade gasped turning to look at Lex in shock.

Lex laughed and shook his head at Shade. “They sent me to the Academy to learn everything I could about the children from the High Houses. I was living in your bloody wing. If I hadn’t figured out in the time that I was there that you slipped out of your window to slum it as a commoner, I wouldn’t have been much of a spy,” he explained.

The first genuine smile since the trip to Tolanteer slowly crept across Shade’s face and he nodded his understanding. “I’ve never actually been lectured by a mother; it would be interesting, I suppose. My own mother spent most of her time drunk or hysterical, or both on holidays,” he said quietly.

“You say that now. Wait, I will offend her somehow and you will regret those words. My mother could convince the Aspect of Honor that he wasn’t worthy to breathe,” Lex warned him with a light chuckle.

The mountain air was crisp and a refreshing change from the smells of a city as large as Sanctuary. Leaning back in his saddle, Shade inhaled deeply. Glancing back he checked Oma’s progress and then glanced to Lex again. “So, what’s it like? The Fionahold, that is.”

Lex leaned over the side of his horse and plucked a branch from a plant. Sticking it in his mouth, he chewed on the end while considering the question. “Crowded, rustic, beautiful, violent, all of those words could describe it. I simply use the word home when I think of it though.” He chewed on the branch again and looked around the forest with fondness. “I grew up here, and learned to hunt in the mountains. When they first sent me to Sanctuary, I thought I had landed in the Darklands. Everything smelled so foul to me after being here, and the noise. You can’t go anywhere in Sanctuary for silence. Even the gardens there are noisy.”

Shade snorted in amusement. “My father raised me in Sanctuary mostly. I grew up in our quarter. There were a few months that were spent in Morcath of course. For the most part, though, my childhood was spent learning to govern the city.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened with him?” Lex asked. The road was becoming steeper, and the Fionaveir took the lead, letting his mount choose its own path up the narrow rocky incline.

“My uncle was there when I arrived. I had every intention of throwing my ring in my father’s face and telling him to bugger himself. My uncle stopped me and kept me from showing myself.” Shade paused and ducked beneath a low hanging branch, trying not to notice how steeply the side of the trail dropped away on his right. “He let me overhear my father speaking with Lord Avanti. After hearing their words, I realized I had no value in my father’s eyes anymore and that he is much darker grey than I ever knew. I didn’t realize what I was helping when I worked to strengthen Morcath.” He let his voice trail off at the last, wondering just how much damage he had done to the rest of the world by helping his father gain finance and power in Sanctuary.

“Love is blind,” Lex replied with a shrug and fell silent, as well.

They passed the next few hours traversing country Shade never would have believed a horse capable of. The paths were almost nonexistent and fallen trees and loose rocks kept Shade’s attention fully focused on the task of staying on his horse. It stayed narrow as they moved farther into the Rilkens, making riding single file essential. Keeping his eye on the sun’s slow descent, Shade found himself praying to any Aspect that would listen, that Lex would call a halt before darkness fell. He wasn’t sure about how good his mount’s night vision was, but had decided if they continued after dark, he was using his birthright and shifting to something more suitable to this terrain.

“Campfire ahead,” Lex’s voice broke the seemingly endless silence and Shade jumped at the sound. He had been listening intently to a call in the forest, trying to decide what sort of animal made that trilling noise.

“Should we leave our, umm, path, though I’m not really sure this should be called a path. Should we leave our goat trail and hide?” Shade asked.

Lex gave a snort of laughter and shook his head. “Both Houses on this border know we are here. There are certain High Lords that actually like the Fionaveir, you know.”

“No, actually, I didn’t know that. I thought you were hunted by everyone,” Shade admitted quietly.

“Given our location, I’d say its Fionaveir camped ahead. With luck, they will have food,” Lex said and kicked his horse into a faster walk.

Shade watched him move off and glanced down at the trail. With his gaze locked on the loose rocks on the trail and the ever-present drop off to his right, he shook his head, looking down at his horse. “No, I think we will be late to supper. This speed is just fine with me,” he said quietly.

Lex was dismounted and seated by the fire by the time they caught up with him. Dismounting, Shade tied his own mount by Lex’s and turned to help Oma down. He glanced over his shoulder toward the fire, curious about the two cloaked figures Lex was speaking with. By the cut of their cloaks and what he could see of the clothing beneath, the man and woman were definitely not rangers. The colors were vibrant and the fabric costly, and looked quite out of place in the wilderness.

“That’s Symphony, our older sister and Lutheron, the second in command of the Fionaveir. Not sure what they are doing out here, but I’m sure we will find out soon,” Leah whispered as she tied her own horse near his.

“You have a sister? You’ve never mentioned her before.” Shade kept his voice as quiet as her own had been and gave her a sidelong glance.

“Aye, a brother too. Other than Lex. Our family is a big one. My mother loves my father very much. Symphony is the eldest, though,” Leah explained with a grin.

Shade stole another glance at the woman trying to get a better look under the hood of the cloak, but her face was too shadowed by the distance. She seemed slighter than Leah, with more of a willowy build. Looking back at Leah, he found her grinning at him.

“Same hair and eyes but she is the tiny one. Sure, she is tall but a strong wind would carry her off,” she said with a wink as she motioned for him to follow and headed for the fire.

“Coming, Oma?” Shade asked, pausing for the girl. He offered his hand to her, and she took it with obvious hesitation. “I’m sure it will be fine, after all, one of them is related to our guards,” he said in a reassuring voice. After a moment, Oma took the offered hand, and he led her to the far side of the fire and took a seat.

“Sym, Lutheron, this is Shade. You should both remember him from my reports. The girl beside him is Oma. She would make a damn good Truthfinder if we could find someone to help her learn. She is a bit shy, though,” Lex said the moment they had seated themselves.

Lutheron pushed his hood back revealing dark hair and darker eyes. His features were lean and almost delicate in its bone structure. The expression on his face was perfectly composed, giving no hint whatsoever to what he might have thought of Lex’s reports. “So, you are the Changeling, eh? And why do you wish to join our ranks?” he asked in a voice that Shade was sure he never had to raise to get the attention of others.

“I’ve spent the entire time I’ve been in power believing I have been doing my part to make our world better. I’ve learned otherwise recently. I’d like to spend the rest of my life knowing I’m making the world better,” Shade answered. He’d given thought to how he might answer that question on the ride and had decided this was not the time for diplomacy. He wanted to forget diplomacy and simply rely on honesty.

Symphony nodded to Lex. “That was a good answer,” she said to her brother. Her voice was low and rich, and Shade had the instant desire to draw her into more conversation simply to hear her speak.

“He is smart and he is sick of the intrigue, Sym,” Lex said.

“You won last year’s Sky Race, didn’t you?” Lutheron asked, his tone thoughtful.

Nodding, Shade glanced at the man. “I would have won this year too, but it was deemed inappropriate for me to enter it and not the melee,” he explained.

Lutheron smiled, and the expression sent a shiver down Shade’s spine. The expression had no warmth to it at all. At once, Shade thought he knew how a deer might feel when it spotted a Bendazzi stalking it. “I believe I know just what to give you for your first assignment,” Lutheron said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Tell me, have you ever been to Eldagar?” he asked, the smile still on his lips.

Shade shook his head. “No, I’ve never even been to that continent. The ruling lords there do not consider House Morcaillo suitable guests.”

“One of our operatives is having a bit of difficulty in Eldagar. I think you might be just the person to help him out, if you truly are as Lex says.” He glanced at Lex who looked mildly offended at the suggestion that he might have deviated from fact on his reports and gave a slight nod. “Tell Caspian to explain Eldagar to him, once he has been sworn into our brotherhood,” Lutheron told Lex and leaned back against a tree. The shadows seemed to cling to the man as he reclined, but Shade had the distinct feeling he was still watching him.

“It will be as you say, Lutheron,” Lex agreed and turned to Symphony. “What are you two doing out here anyway? Especially dressed like that.”

“We are on our way to either bless a wedding or stop it. We haven’t decided yet. Lutheron sensed you approaching so we made you a fire and waited. He wanted to see your new recruit before we left. I have no idea how long this will take us, possibly a few days,” Symphony explained.

Leah raised an eyebrow and frowned. “Whose wedding? It’s not exactly typical Fionaveir business to get involved in such things.”

“Finn Sovaesh and Jala. I believe you know both of them,” Lutheron answered quietly.

“You are going into Sanctuary?” Leah asked, her voice incredulous with eyes locked on her sister.

“No, they are in Firym, actually,” Symphony corrected, her eyes flicking to Shade.

Finding himself suddenly uninterested in conversation, Shade leaned back away from the fire. Aware of Oma seated so close to him, he tried to keep his emotions under control but was finding it increasingly difficult. He should be happy she was out of the city. The Firym lands would be safe for her. His father had no power there. It didn’t dull the sting of rejection, though, no matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter.

Chapter 30

Firym

It was full dark in Fallanor when they arrived. The city was spread out before them with beautiful stone homes lining both sides of the cobbled street. Lanterns lit the way, shining brightly inside colored glass globes that swung in the light breeze. Beyond the town walls, she could see the dim outline of the Scarlet Jungle looming vast and black in the night. Scents of flowers hung heavily in the air, making an aroma that was almost intoxicating.

Finn looked around to get his bearings and glowered at his brother. “Could you have possibly put us any farther from the palace?” he asked.

“I could have set us down in the jungle, but I thought this more appropriate. It gives you plenty of time to tell me what is going on before we get there,” Sovann replied, his tone mild.

“Palace?” Jala asked, eyes widening. Finn had mentioned his great uncle but he had said nothing of palaces.

Giving her an absent nod, Finn drew a shirt from the bundle in his hands and pulled it on. Nodding for her to follow he began to walk dressing as he did. “It’s not too far to walk,” he assured her as he tucked the shirt into his pants and pulled a vest over it.

“No, it really isn’t too far, but why are we going there?” Sovann pressed.

“I’m getting married,” Finn replied now hopping on one foot as he pulled a boot on.

Sovann stopped in his tracks and stared at his brother with his jaw dropped. “Finn,” he began cautiously. “Do you remember when we talked about you not thinking things through completely?” he asked.

“I was actually the one that suggested it,” Jala said meekly, trying not to laugh at Finn’s progress with his boots.

Finn stopped abruptly. He stood in the middle of the street his vest unbuttoned and shirt barely tucked in. He looked down at his one bare foot and then to the boot he held in his other hand and raised an eyebrow at his brother. “What makes you think I haven’t thought this through?” he asked, his expression carefully blank.

Jala turned her head and covered her mouth with a hand. She was losing the fight with laughter quickly and now didn’t seem the time to burst into giggles. She studied the homes beside her admiring the lush gardens that surrounded each one. She knew if she looked back to the brothers she would lose the battle and likely wake the neighborhood with her laughter. She could picture the expression on Sovann’s face clearly enough in her mind.

Are you finally ready to admit he is your mate? Marrow asked, padding up beside her to sit.

She gave him a nod and smiled at the Bendazzi. Yes, you are right, Marrow; he is the only one for me.

She glanced back at the brothers to see them bent close in discussion their voices too low to hear. Finn seemed quite pleased with himself, and Sovann looked close to surrender.

With the Soul Bond the two of you have I’m amazed it took this long, Marrow said, his tone filled with exasperation.

Soul Bond? Jala asked, her gaze dropping to Marrow.

Did you not realize? It is rare in your kind I think. Bendazzi have it, as do wolves. I’ve heard hawks do, as well, but they seem too simple-minded for something such as a Soul Bond. It is the joining of spirit, when one soul calls to another. It is beyond the thing your kind call love; it is whole and complete. With a Soul Bond, there can be no other, Marrow explained, using more words than she had ever heard from him before.

What makes you think we have one? Jala asked with curiosity.

Marrow gave an indignant sniff. I can see it when I look at the two of you. Your souls reach for one another even if your bodies do not. The spirit holds more wisdom than the mind. It knows where it belongs even if the mind is too stupid to accept it.

You can see souls? She looked down at the Bendazzi in amazement and then looked to Finn wondering if he knew what a Soul Bond was.

Glimpses at times, but one does not need to see your soul to know. I have been trying to tell you for days, Marrow replied wearily.

“Fine. Then you are getting married. I won’t bother trying to talk sense into you.” Sovann turned from his brother throwing both hands up in defeat. “Congratulations, Jala, you are getting married to an impulsive ass.”

Grinning widely, Finn pulled his other boot on and quickly adjusted the cuffs of his pants tucking them neatly inside the knee high black boots. He stood straight again and offered his arm to her. At some point in their discussion, Finn had managed to straighten his shirt and button the vest and now looked quite respectable. “Hurry now before you regain your senses,” Finn teased and she moved to his side, taking his arm in hers.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she assured him and fell into step easily beside him as they continued toward the Firym Palace.

They walked in silence for a bit, her eyes roving over the beauty of the city as they moved. Sanctuary itself was imposing, built on such a grand scale it blinded you to the dark alleys where poverty thrived. Fallanor, however, didn’t seem to have any dark alleys. The entire city seemed to be thriving and if poverty dwelled here at all, it was extraordinarily well hidden. All of the houses were tidy and the streets were clean. Each intersection they crossed was built in a circular fashion with a fountain in the center.

“Have you told father?” Sovann asked as they neared the massive structure that could only be the palace they had mentioned.

Jala’s eyes roved up and down the vine-covered columns and brightly lit windows. The building itself was a work of art with delicate arches and murals lining the walls.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t live by his means. I don’t need his permission to live my life as I see fit,” Finn answered.

“Have you given any thought to what Uncle Arjuna might say about this?” Sovann pressed as they began to climb the worn stone stairs.

“Not really, Sovann,” Finn replied, his tone absent of any concern.

“Your uncle is High Lord Arjuna?” Jala asked, pausing in mid-step. She had thought perhaps a lesser lord, or maybe the steward, certainly not the High Lord himself.

“On Father’s side,” Finn replied with a nod and tugged on her arm gently. “Don’t worry, I am well received here.”

“Shade said if you ever left Sanctuary you were as good as dead,” she reminded him.

Finn laughed and gave her a huge smile. “If the Rivasans want to come get me here, I’ll cheer them on. The Firym will bend them over and shove swords someplace they won’t soon forget.”

“Do you have to be so crude, Finn?” Sovann sighed.

Giving her a wink, Finn nodded to the guard on the door. “Is my uncle still awake?” he asked the man.

Jala stared openly at the guard, admiring the scarlet red plate mail and embossed black horse on his breast plate. If this was just a simple guard’s attire, she couldn’t imagine what the famous Flame Riders wore.

“He is in his study, Kozva’Fyree,” The guard replied with a slight bow before opening the massive wooden door to admit them to the palace. “Shall I summon a servant to guide you?” the guard asked as they passed through the doorway.

Finn shook his head and smiled. “I haven’t been gone that long, Jax, I can still find my way,” he replied.

With a simple nod the guard closed the doors behind them.

The hall itself stretched out almost past the point of her vision. In the back of the room a staircase arched from both walls curving in its path to the second floor. Directly below the balcony was another fountain, this one immense in size and carved from black stone. Seven horses adorned the top, all in various forms of a charge, their riders leaning forward with swords raised. Finn led her nearer and let her get a closer look, motioning down into the water as they approached. Bright colored fish swam in the water. Their bodies like gems in shades of scarlet, blue, and green.

Sovann looked down at the fish and gave a faint smile. “Do you remember the time Uncle caught you fishing here?” he asked Finn.

A frown formed on Finn’s handsome face and he nodded grimly. “I remember not being able to sit properly for a week because of it,” he replied. Glancing at Jala the frown faded a bit. “I was young, maybe seven at the time, and upset because I couldn’t manage to catch anything at the river like the older boys could. So I took matters into my own hands and went where I knew beyond a doubt there were fish for the catching,” he explained.

“And I blistered your backside well enough that you never looked at my fountain again without respect,” a deeper voice said from the hallway. “Welcome home, Kozva’Fyree.”

Finn had turned at the voice and bowed low to the speaker. Jala gave a slight curtsy and remained silent waiting for an introduction. The Firym Lord reminded her a great deal of Havoc in his build and coloring. He wasn’t a large man though his bearing and fine clothes did make him imposing. His dark red hair was cut short, as she had come to expect from most swordsmen. She met his eyes when he looked to her with curiosity and noted that they were the same deep green of Finn’s.

“Uncle Arjuna,” Finn began, his voice filled with warmth. “May I present, Jala, my soon-to-be wife. Jala, this is my Uncle Arjuna, High Lord of the Firym nation.”

“A pleasure, Milady.” Arjuna nodded his head respectfully and looked her over again with an expression of approval. “Soon-to-be wife, you say?” he asked looking back to Finn.

“That is actually why we are here, Uncle. I was hoping you would perform the ceremony for us,” Finn replied. “I know there is no warning, but I want to get it done before the lady changes her mind. Look at her, Uncle, by morning she may realize she can do far better than me,” he grinned as he spoke and Arjuna gave a deep chuckle.

“By all means then, let us find a more comfortable place to talk. You can explain where you met your lovely lady, and how she comes to be followed by a Bendazzi.” Arjuna motioned for them to follow as he turned back down the hall from which he had come.

Jala glanced to Sovann who had remained silent the entire time and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay, Sovann? You are so very quiet,” she asked, keeping her voice low. Finn had moved ahead to join his uncle but she kept her pace slow to match Sovann’s

He gave her a nod and a faint smile. “I didn’t spend as much time here as Finn did. I’m more Avanti by nature, I suppose. Not nearly as rough or aggressive as this side of my family. So, for the most part, when I’m here I remain quiet. Better to be considered the silent sort than to offend them with my Avanti ways.” he explained.

She nodded her understanding and let the topic rest. “Do you know what Kozva’Fyree means?” she asked, wondering if it was Finn’s name here. She certainly hoped it wasn’t it seemed far too complicated and she wasn’t even sure she had pronounced it right.

Sovann smiled and nodded. “It’s a title of respect the Firym give to outsiders. It means worthy of fire. It isn’t a name you will have to use so don’t worry.”

She let out a sigh of relief and he laughed softly. “You have no idea how happy that single sentence just made me,” she grinned at him.

“The Firym are a unique culture and a very proud one. To be said you are worthy of fire here is one of the highest praises you can achieve. Finn is definitely favored by Uncle Arjuna.” He watched the two figures ahead of them for a moment and then looked to her. “Did he explain the Firym marriage customs to you at all?” he asked.

She shook her head in answer and frowned. “Are they very different from the ones the Aspect Temples use? I’ve seen hundreds of weddings before the altar of Fortune.”

“There are no rings for one thing. And it is impossible for a Firym wedding to be forced, both the man and woman have to be fully committed to the arrangement or it isn’t legal in the eyes of the Firym. I’m sure Uncle Arjuna will explain better before he begins, but suffice to say once the ceremony is complete there will be no hiding the fact that you are married,” Sovann explained, his words raising more questions in her mind.

They both fell silent as they passed through the doorway Arjuna and Finn had disappeared into. She looked around as she entered and decided this must be the study the guard had mentioned. Even though it was quite warm outside, a small fire burned in an ornate fireplace on the far wall. The floors were marble and polished to a shine so high she could see her reflection in them. Bookshelves filled with leather bound volumes in all shapes and sizes lined the wall. Near the fireplace a massive desk rested, its top covered in tidy piles of papers and envelopes. Arjuna led them instead to overstuffed leather chairs and motioned for them to sit while he poured drinks into tiny crystal tumblers.

“So Finn tells me the Bendazzi is your Familiar,” Arjuna began as he handed her the drink.

She nodded and smiled at him and then looked down at the drink with suspicion. From the color of it she guessed it to be Firewater and from the scent it was a good deal stronger than Finn’s decanter. If she drank this too quickly there was a good chance she would be choking on the floor. If she didn’t at least taste it, though, she might offend the High Lord.

“Quiet, isn’t she?” Arjuna commented to Finn taking a chair by his nephew.

“She is afraid whatever you just gave her is going to kill her,” Finn replied with a grin and took a long drink from his own cup. He smacked his lips a few times and gave a nod. “And chances are it will. She doesn’t have a tolerance for Firewater yet, Uncle.” With a grin to her, Finn took her glass and poured the drink into his own. Arjuna started to rise again but Finn motioned for him to sit. “I have a flask that she will enjoy, don’t trouble yourself Uncle,” he assured the High Lord and handed Jala the flask of Jimpa Brandy.

“Thank you,” she said taking the flask. Looking back to Arjuna she lowered her head slightly in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to offend you. It’s just the Firewater is a bit strong for me,” she said.

Arjuna gave a chuckle and nodded, his smile reminding her of Finn’s, full of confidence and good humor. “So you wish to marry my nephew then?” he asked, settling himself farther into his chair.

“I do,” she agreed.

“And what do you think of this, Sovann?” Arjuna asked, addressing his youngest nephew for the first time since they had arrived.

“I think it’s rushed and impulsive just like everything else Finn does in life,” Sovann answered with bitter honesty.

Arjuna raised an eyebrow and looked to Finn. With a shrug, Finn smiled at his uncle. “Live by the fires of the heart, for the first emotion is often the truest,” he replied.

Arjuna’s smile returned showing white teeth and he nodded with approval. “You are more Firym than any other in your family, my boy. Then it is settled, if the Brazier accepts your pledges you shall have a wife.” Arjuna rose gracefully from his chair and moved to a cabinet on the back wall. Drawing a key from his pocket he unlocked the doors and removed a heavy looking wrapped bundle.

“Brazier?” Jala asked in a bit of alarm. Sovann had said there would be no doubt she was married, did they intend to brand her.

“Look at his left arm when he returns, there will be patterns on the skin there. Those symbolize his marriage. It isn’t a burn, it’s done through magic, and it doesn’t hurt, I promise,” Finn replied, his tone reassuring.

“The only time a wedding is painful here is when the band of one party is smaller than the other side,” Arjuna said with a smile as he sat the bundle down on the table between the chairs and carefully unwrapped it. Nestled inside the plush red velvet was a bowl made from what looked like solid gold. It had three legs holding it up from the table, and the sides were engraved with images of couples in such detail it held the eye. The center of the bowl was blackened as if heated too many times and Jala looked at Finn in apprehension.

“You place your hands on one side of the bowl, I place mine on the other,” Finn explained, moving a hand to demonstrate. “It won’t burn you. The outside stays cool.”

“It is part of the ceremony, you and Finn must sit with the bowl tonight keeping your hands upon it,” Arjuna said pausing to look at Finn. “Both hands on the bowl, Finn,” he warned.

Laughing, Finn grinned at his uncle and picked the bowl up and handed it to Jala. She took it carefully from him and her eyes widened at the magic she could feel coursing through it. Turning it slowly in her hands she studied the engravings.

“You must place your hands on opposite sides and thus you will be facing each other. You cannot help but think of another while sitting for so long face to face. If the marriage is meant to be, the bowl’s magic will sense it. In the bottom, a chain will form, each link formed of devotion and love. The thicker the chain the truer the bond,” Arjuna explained. He held his own hand out for her to examine and she looked down in fascination at the thick lines tracing over the back of his left hand and around one wrist. “This is the mark of a Firym marriage,” he explained, turning his hand from left to right for her to see. The marks did not resemble burns or tattoos. They had a metallic quality to them, as if metal had sunk into his skin. One side of the marking was silver while the other was gold in hue and together the pattern they made was truly beautiful.

“There is no such thing as a political marriage here,” Finn told her with a smile. “If you do not love the other holding the bowl the chain will not form. Without a chain there is no marriage. Which is for the best, considering the Firym definition of divorce.”

Arjuna laughed and nodded with a smile. “We do not marry for power or money here,” he agreed.

Looking between the two of them Jala raised an eyebrow. “What is a Firym divorce?” she asked.

“The event that comes shortly before a Firym funeral,” Finn answered with a chuckle.

“You aren’t joking,” she said after a moment of watching them both.

Arjuna gave a shake of the head and another sip from his Firewater. “Our people are passionate ones. We do everything in full measures. Although to be fair, it isn’t always called a Firym divorce. Generally it is referred to as an Immortal divorce. There are few among the Elder Blood that would leave an enemy alive. If a marriage has come to such bitter terms that you can no longer stand to live in the same house, you are enemies.”

Jala nodded her head slowly in understanding and carefully set the bowl back down onto the table. “Okay, so we sit with the bowl tonight, then what?” she asked eager to change the subject.

“Then if a chain forms by the first hint of the sun we are taken off to prepare for the wedding. Each of us will have an attendant. I’m not sure who will act as yours. Preparations are made before the sun has fully risen and once the sun is fully crested, Arjuna will bring us both together and the chain will be wrapped around our hands binding them together. This is another part of the ritual. If we tremble or drop the chain it is a sign that while we do love each other we are not ready for marriage. If we are calm and steady throughout the entire ceremony, which will last however long my uncle wants to keep us standing there, then we are considered married,” Finn explained and narrowed his eyes at his uncle. “If my uncle is kind he won’t leave you baking in the sun long,” he added.

“No, she is not Firym, I would not cook her,” Arjuna agreed good naturedly. He seemed ready to add more but the door cracked open a fraction and a nervous-looking servant peeked in. “Yes?” he asked, his tone sounding mildly irritated.

“Milord Arjuna, Lutheron is here and begs leave to speak with you,” the girl said quickly.

Standing, Arjuna set his glass down and nodded to the three of them. “Forgive me, I must see to this,” he said leaving the room without another glance.

“Lutheron?” Sovann asked, his gaze on the door. “The Lutheron?” he repeated turning to look at Finn.

Finn was frowning and Jala raised an eyebrow at him. “I have no idea why he would be here, but it can’t be good,” Finn said finally.

The door opened again and Arjuna returned with a man and woman in tow. He closed the door behind the three of them and motioned the newcomers to a seat. “I would appreciate it if you keep this short Lutheron they have preparations to see to that shouldn’t be delayed much longer,” Arjuna said, his tone respectful yet firm.

The woman pulled her hood back revealing features that brought the twins Lex and Leah to Jala’s mind. Her gold eyes fixed on Jala and then looked to Finn. She looked them both over in appraisal and then nodded to Lutheron.

Pulling his own cloak down, he offered a hand to Jala and then Finn. “My name is Lutheron as you have likely already gathered. We’ve come here on behalf of the Fionaveir. This is Symphony.”

Symphony bowed her head to the two of them and fixed her gaze on Jala. “I would like to speak with you alone if possible,” she said with a hesitant look toward Finn.

Glancing around the room at those assembled, Jala shook her head slightly. “Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of those present. I have no secrets from Finn or Sovann and Arjuna is soon to be my kin by marriage,” Jala replied firmly and didn’t miss the smile that crossed both Finn and Arjuna’s faces.

Clearing her throat, Symphony gave a slight nod with only a slight flicker of her eyes in the direction of Finn. “The Fionaveir are aware of who you truly are, Jala, we have been since you were born,” she began and paused as if expecting Jala to object to her words and demand privacy.

Jala nodded and forced a polite smile. “Would that one of you could have shared that information with me before I went to Tolanteer. Finn could have been spared a great deal of pain,” she said trying to keep the sharpness from her tone.

“Only the council has known, else I’m sure Havoc or Victory would have told you. It was deemed that you needed more time to learn before you were told, so that you would be better prepared,” Symphony continued.

“I think that I will have a better chance of learning what I need to know by knowing who I am,” Jala countered.

Symphony gave a slight nod. “Perhaps, but it is a moot point now and not what we have traveled here to speak of,” she conceded and seemed hesitant to continue.

“You are here because you don’t think she should marry me,” Finn cut in and Symphony had the decency to look chagrined.

“We are here because we are concerned that this might not be the best match for what she has ahead of her. A political marriage to one of the houses would be more beneficial. Surely you can see that,” Symphony said carefully.

“Why would that matter to the Fionaveir?” Jala asked not bothering to hide the bite in her words any longer.

“Because we have very high hopes for your future, Jala, and we want very much to see you succeed,” Symphony said.

“Why?” Jala asked again her suspicion growing.

“Because we are bloody sick of endless wars and houses being killed off. Because we need a stable government, and in order to have one, we need High Lords and Ladies with honor and integrity. Because we think that you have both of those qualities,” Lutheron cut in before Symphony could respond.

Symphony glanced at her companion and looked back to Jala and nodded slowly. “The way our government is now we will never have peace. We must have a monarch to keep the houses in check. Arjuna himself is a supporter of this cause,” she said, her tone gentle.

“I am, as are several other lords. What does this have to do with young Jala, though?” Arjuna spoke up, his expression a bit confused.

“Her true name is Jaladene Merrodin. Though we would thank you to not share that information,” Lutheron explained.

Arjuna nodded slowly and looked Jala over once again. “The Merrodins were swarthy of skin with dark hair and eyes like coals. Are you certain?” he asked at last, his words hesitant.

“Absolutely,” Lutheron assured him.

Arjuna nodded again, apparently trusting Lutheron’s word. “And why is my nephew unworthy?” he asked, sounding rather offended.

“We don’t know that he is or isn’t worthy, Arjuna. Our concern is that he holds no armies. If she were to marry within a High House the marriage would come with defenses,” Symphony said, her voice still gentle.

Jala cleared her throat and the three of them looked to her. “You want me to rebuild my lands, fine, I will. You want me to restore my house, I will. You want me to support a monarchy. I’m sure I would do that as well. From what I’ve seen and read of Arjuna, he is certainly no fool and if he supports it, I will most likely as well.” she paused making sure she had the full attention of Lutheron and Symphony. “But if you expect to govern who I marry, I have some very disappointing news for you. The only Fionaveir whose opinion mattered on who I married is dead, and has been for ten years. So unless either one of you has written word in my father’s hand regarding the matter, I don’t give a damn what you think about it.” She raised an eyebrow at them in challenge, daring them to object. Marrow rose up from where he had been laying behind her chair and locked his yellow eyes on the Fionaveir. He made no sound but it was clear to the visitors that the Bendazzi felt as strongly on the subject as his mistress did.

A smirk formed on Lutheron’s face and he nodded slightly. He held a hand up to Symphony and locked his gaze on Finn. His eyes narrowed a bit and Jala saw Finn tense in his chair. She noticed Lutheron’s hand shift slightly, the palm turned upwards and the fingers flicked in Finn’s direction. “And what would you say if I told you that we weren’t here to ask her to not marry? That we are here to ensure she doesn’t?” he asked, his voice cold.

Finn’s muscles clenched further and she could see sweat beading his brow. Eyes burning with emotion he locked his hand around the hilt of his sword and glared defiantly at Lutheron. “I’d tell you to try it and I’ll make you a head shorter,” he snarled.

“Whatever you are doing to him stop it now,” Jala warned, already drawing on her magics.

Lutheron dropped his hand and Finn visibly relaxed. He held both hands to her in a sign of peace. “I was merely testing him. He passed.” He turned to Symphony and nodded approvingly. “He is the right one for her without a doubt, Symphony. That much fear had Charm huddling on the ground like a child. This one was ready to fight. Give this match your blessing.”

Symphony regarded Finn with respect and then smiled to Jala. “It was never our intent to upset you, Milady. We simply wish you to have the best chances of success. If this is truly what both of you wish, then we give you our fondest blessings.” she bowed her head slightly to both of them in both apology and respect. “Arjuna, we would be most honored if you would allow us to intrude on your hospitality for the night. I would very much like to witness the ceremony tomorrow,” she said turning to the High Lord.

Arjuna nodded his head and smiled proudly at his nephew. “I trust you can see to the first part of the ritual without my assistance?” he asked.

“Of course, Uncle,” Finn agreed.

“I’ll have Sovann help me with the other details then,” Arjuna said and nodded to them. “The night is late,” he added in obvious dismissal.

Standing, Finn carefully picked up the bowl and Jala rose to follow him with Marrow close on her heels. He walked in silence for a bit as he led her back into the room with the fountain and then up the stairs. Shifting the bowl to where it rested easily under one arm he wrapped the other around her waist and smiled down at her. “Impressive,” he said quietly as they turned to make their way up another flight of stairs.

“What?” she asked.

“How you handled the Fionaveir,” he explained, and let go of her waist to open a door for her.

She stepped through the door and out onto a roof top garden. The scents of hundreds of flowers rose on the night wind. Looking up to gaze at the stars she waited for Finn to close the door and join her. “Marrow explained it to me,” she said quietly dropping her gaze from the stars to look at him. “He says it’s a Soul Bond that we have. Have you ever heard of that before?”

“In stories, but that does make sense,” Finn replied and smiled down at Marrow. “I’m glad he recognized it. It explains a lot.”

“I think I know why you feel my emotions so much clearer, too,” Jala began and wandered over to one of the closer flowers leaning over to sniff it daintily. “I like this one’s scent very much, what is it?”

“Vadasian Lilly,” he answered and joined her beside the plant carefully plucking a bloom and tucking it behind her ear. Taking her hand, he led her through the garden to a circular patch of grass near its center. He let go of her hand and sat down placing the bowl in front of him. “So, why do I sense you easier than you do me?” he asked finally, apparently deciding she didn’t plan to answer unless he asked.

“When Marrow explained it, he said it was rare in our kind, but Bendazzi and wolves often have bonds of this nature. It was your explanation to your uncle when you spoke of living by the fires of the heart that made me make the connection. You live by instincts and your passions, so the bond is more natural to you, I’ve been governed by Temple rules and a very nasty tempered housekeeper that believed in strictly abiding by rules,” she explained and took a seat across from him shrugging. “At least that’s my theory. You have reminded me of a predator since I first saw you in the arena fighting Lex. The way you move when you fight and the look you get in your eyes at times,” she added with a faint smile.

Placing his hands on one side of the Brazier he motioned for her to do the same and grinned at her as she did so. “What kind of predator?” he asked sounding a bit amused.

“I thought cat the first time. It wasn’t until after we found Marrow that I realized Bendazzi was much more appropriate.” she answered with a returning smile. “What do I do now? Do I just hold this side of it?” She asked looking down at the Brazier.

“Well not that I’m an expert here, having never been married before, but from what I understand, we keep our hands upon it and focus on one another.” He gave a faint chuckle and cleared his throat. “The nobles’ have a fine way of explaining this ritual. The commoners’ explanation is the one I prefer. They say if it’s lust rather than love your hands won’t stay on the bowl long enough to make a chain, and if you can’t stand sitting and staring at each other long enough to form a chain it isn’t worth cooking a wedding feast.”

She laughed lightly and nodded. “So I just focus on you, on what I think of you and how I feel about you, then. Simple enough.” she closed her eyes inhaling the night air and felt the grin on her face widen to a smile.

“Seeing that smile alone is enough for any man to form a chain,” Finn spoke quietly.

She opened her eyes at his voice and shook her head slowly. “This isn’t a smile for any man, Finn. I’m focusing on you right now. That smile is for you alone.”

Chapter 31

Firym

They sat watching the sky lighten in silence. Faint birdsong echoed from the jungles, filling the early morning with sound. They had talked for a time. Both taking turns trading questions and answers, but most of the hours had been filled with silence. Jala looked down into the Brazier at the thick coils of chain resting at the bottom. The faint hint of a pattern was visible but the full detail couldn’t be seen from the angle it lay in. She resisted the urge to pick it up again though she desperately wanted to examine it closer. Her mother and father had worn simple rings to symbolize their marriage. The Firym custom made the rings seem paltry in comparison.

“It’s okay if you look at it, it won’t break,” Finn said with a light chuckle. She hadn’t realized he had been watching her, his eye had been closed the last time she had looked at him.

Nodding, she took a hand from the side of the Brazier flexing the fingers as she did. They had gone stiff from holding the bowl but she had been afraid to move her hand. “I didn’t know if I could let go yet. I didn’t want it to vanish or something,” she explained.

Chuckling lightly, Finn took the Brazier carefully from her other hand and set it down in between the two of them. Stretching his own hands he reached into the bottom of the bowl and lifted the chain out carefully handing it over to her. “Once the chain is formed you can move your hands, but it’s customary to wait for the sun before you do so,” he said watching her turn the chain over in her hands.

“It’s thicker than your uncle’s,” she said in amazement her eyes roving over the intricate patterns of the metal. It was close to half an inch thick with delicate knot work linking the two halves together. With just a glance at the beauty of it one could tell that it had not been worked by human hands. No jeweler, no matter how skilled, could match the detail.

Finn grinned at her and glanced toward the door. “Pray it isn’t my aunt that comes to attend you then, my uncle will get a beating if it is. She would be angry enough to see the metal it is made of.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” she confessed and then frowned. “Why would that make her angry?”

“The more precious the metal, the truer the emotion that forged it. That is Eternium, by Firym economy that is more precious than most gems. My uncle’s links were made of silver,” he explained glancing over his shoulder as the door opened.

Sovann stepped into the garden and approached quietly. He paused at the sight of the chain in her hands and seemed amazed. “I’m sorry, Finn, apparently I was wrong to doubt you on this,” he said and from the expression on his face Jala guessed he had expected there to be no chain.

“Should have known better, Sovann. If I hadn’t been sincere I would have bought a ring,” Finn replied dryly. He rose slowly to his feet and offered her a hand up. “Who is going to attend, Jala?” he asked as he bent and picked the Brazier up carefully.

“Grandmother,” Sovann replied quietly.

Finn froze and looked at his brother with an expression of disbelief. “She left the Tower of the Sun for this?” he asked in disbelief.

Nodding, Sovann grinned at Jala’s confusion. “Grandmother is the High Mage of Firym. She rarely leaves her tower for anything. To have her here is a great honor,” he explained.

I have been so very patient with you most of yesterday and all night long, but I’m about to eat Sovann if I don’t get breakfast soon. It will be my wedding gift to you that I eat the brother and not your soon to be husband, Marrow’s voice broke in before she could respond to Sovann.

“You will get fed soon and you will not eat anything with a name,” Jala warned him pointing a finger at him reproachfully.

Grinning, Finn gave her a kiss on the cheek and ruffled the Bendazzi’s fur lightly. “I’ll take him down with me and stop by the kitchens and see if they have a spare cow handy if that’s alright with you.”

Marrow moved past her and pushed his full weight against the back of Finn’s legs nudging him roughly toward the door. Jala frowned at him and shook her head rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t appear as though it matters what I think on the matter. Thank you, Finn.”

“Grandmother will be here soon,” Sovann assured her before following Finn back down the stairs.

Jala watched the door close and stood silently for a long moment. Moving back to sit where she had been for most of the night she raised the chain up holding it balanced between two hands looking it over once again in the faint light. It was still difficult for her to believe this was happening, yet she held the proof in her hands.

“It’s not often they are that even,” a woman’s voice came from just over her shoulder.

Turning her head Jala looked at the red-haired woman in wonder. She hadn’t heard a sound of approach or felt the telltale hum of magic. She was near Jala in height and stood with a proud bearing. Her robes were in the house colors of red, black, and gold and her long hair hung heavy down her back with gems braided into a few strands. “You must be Finn’s Grandmother. I’m sorry he didn’t tell me your name,” Jala said and rose bowing her head respectfully. Even had Sovann not told her this woman’s title, by manners and dress alone, Jala would have known her to be someone important.

The woman smiled at her as she leaned forward and placed a delicate bejeweled hand under Jala’s chin gently raising her face again to meet her eyes. “Adana, and you are the young lady who has stolen the heart of my Finn.” She lowered her hand and nodded with approval. “And by the look of that chain, it’s more than your beauty that has stolen his heart. My Finn is not the sort to fall for simple beauty.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Adana,” Jala replied in her most respectful tones. She looked back down at the chain and smiled again. “The Firym ceremony is truly a wonder, Lady Adana. I am lost in a sense of wonder over it all.”

“Hmph. I think we must dispense with your formality. Let us gather the flowers and chat a bit. We will be family by nightfall and family should never be formal.” Adana gave her a gentle nudge toward the flower beds. “Which ones do you prefer child?” she asked, taking her arm and guiding her along the garden path.

Jala motioned toward the large white blooms she had noticed when they first entered the gardens. “Their scent is wonderful,” she said leaning forward to smell the flowers once again.

“Ahh. The lilies an excellent choice, dear,” Adana agreed amiably and carefully began gathering the best of the blooms. “Arjuna tells me you are a good match for my Finn.”

“I certainly believe I am, but isn’t that what the crafting of the chain is for? To prove that I am?”

Adana gave her a patient smile and handed her the flowers she had gathered so far. “Hold these while I get a bit of color to add.” She moved to another flower bed and carefully began gathering yellow flowers that Jala had no name for. “The chain proves love, Jala. Just because you love something doesn’t mean that you can live with it,” Adana began, her hands never slowing from the task of gathering. “Finn is a Firym at heart, more than his father ever was. He is passionate and fierce. He will be protective to the point of insanity, jealous when there is no reason for it, and when his temper flares every other emotion he has shown will pale in comparison.” Adana gave a nod at the blooms she held and smiled at Jala. “That should do nicely, if you are still sure about this we should go and get you dressed.” She stepped daintily back onto the path and took Jala’s arm once more, guiding her gently toward the door.

“Is that what you were doing then, testing my resolve?” Jala asked, pausing on the path and forcing Adana to either stop, as well, or release her arm.

“Testing. Warning. It little matters which, dear. This has been a very fast courtship and while that chain is impressive, how much do you truly know about Finn? How much does he truly know about you?” Adana’s voice held no reproach and the words were spoken gently.

Jala toyed with one of the flowers she held. Adana wasn’t trying to start a fight with her or scare her off, she realized. The woman was simply trying to protect her grandson. “He knows everything about me, from where I was born to who I am now. He knows my fears and joys,” Jala said, meeting Adana’s gaze and holding it. “And whatever I have wanted to know of him he has told me. All I have to do is ask and even if the truth is not flattering, Finn will tell me. That alone is more than I’ve seen from most married couples. It’s not what he says that promises I will stand by him through anything though, it’s his eyes.” She paused and smiled at Adana. “I have heard flattery and praise from others before, but Finn’s gaze makes them all no more than pointless words. With one look from him I know how special I am, both to him, and to have him.” She fell silent and her smile faded a bit.

Adana nodded with a faint smile on her own lips. “And his temper?” she asked.

Jala shrugged. “I haven’t seen it directed toward me. I hope I never have to. If I do though, I can give as good as I get, Adana, I love Finn and I respect him, but I do not fear him.”

Tugging on her arm to get her moving again, Adana gave a slight chuckle. “It would seem for once my brother was right and you are a good match for my Finn. Come child, we have little time to get you dressed properly.” She pushed the door open and led Jala back into the brightly lit halls. “Now if you can just convince my Finn to come home to stay, I think you might just be the perfect Granddaughter.”

Jala gave a weak smile and nodded, unable to tell Adana she had no intention of living in Firym. Her home was a wasteland now, but only for now. Merro would be restored and they would rule there one day. She wondered briefly what Adana would think when she found out her beloved grandson would be a High Lord soon.

The sun had fully risen by the time Adana led her from the palace. Jala followed her, trying to ignore the various places the sun touched her body. The Firym wedding dress she had been provided with barely seemed worthy of the name dress. The top part of the outfit was held by two straps tied around the back of her neck and back and came to just above her belly button. The bottom was a long skirt that wrapped around her and held at the waist and hip by delicate gold catches in the shape of hummingbirds. The effect left one leg bare nearly to the hip when she walked. Though in truth, she felt far more naked than just that, the silk was of such a quality that it seemed almost weightless. It was only where embroidery or jewels had been set into the delicate gold cloth that she could feel any true weight at all.

“Quit looking down at yourself so often, dear, the flowers will fall from your hair. You look beautiful, I promise,” Adana assured her yet again. “Chin up, walk proudly, and stop trying to cross your arms over your stomach,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Jala nodded slightly, careful to not dislodge any of the lilies placed so carefully in her upswept hair, and took a long slow breath. Adana had assured her this was traditional clothing for a wedding. Looking around at the Firym watching them pass, she wondered if the bronzed people had ever seen a bride as ghostly pale as she was. “I look like I’ve been raised in a cave compared to your people,” Jala said quietly.

“You are a beautiful ivory, though certain parts of your body do look as though they have never seen the sun,” Adana grinned at her.

Jala pursed her lips at the remark. “I was raised at a Temple, Lady Adana. If those parts had seen the sun the priests would have had fits.”

“Or smiles,” Adana suggested wickedly.

Jala shook her head at the woman and fought back a chuckle. “Horrible, simply horrible,” she scolded weakly. They were passing through the houses now and into a large open square. Sunlight glittered across the cobbles and Jala paused again. “Is that gold?” she asked staring in wonder at the patterns worked into the cobbled square.

Adana nodded and motioned toward the lamps on each corner and then the fountain in the center. “It is all gold. This is the Denove Solae, or Home of the Sun in your language, though it sounds much better in mine.” She paused, giving Jala time to take in the splendor and then motioned to the opposite side of the square where a rather substantial crowd was forming. There was a raised area there and several figures stood upon it. Even from this distance she could make out Finn. He stood straight near the back of the platform, dressed in black and gold. He hadn’t noticed her approach yet, and Jala felt herself tense at the size of the growing crowd.

“Who are all of these people? Jala asked, her voice quiet. She hadn’t expected more than simply Finn’s family.

Adana moved closer to her and motioned with one hand discreetly. “There in the back beside Finn are of course Arjuna and Sovann. To the right is Nallia my granddaughter and her husband Truce.” she paused making sure Jala had noticed the couple.

Nallia was smaller than her two brothers but had the same tanned coloring though her hair seemed more golden than either Finn's or Sovann's. She was dressed in a beautiful gown of red and white and even from this distance Jala could pick out the glimmer of jewels at her wrist and neck. Her husband leaned against a pillar nearby her. His dark hair was long and held back in a loose ponytail. By the pale coloring of his skin and the style of clothing he wore, he was obviously not Firym. Her eyes lingered on the fine white jacket he wore, trimmed in gold. The vest beneath was a dark red as were his pants. “Aren’t those the Avanti colors?” she asked Adana with a raised eyebrow.

“Indeed, Truce Avanti is the heir to House Avanti. I suppose we should consider it an honor that Nallia gained such a husband.” She paused and gave Jala a glance. Her lips were pursed and her nose wrinkled slightly in an expression of distaste. “We don’t though. He is, after all, Avanti. Out of all of them though, Truce is the most tolerable.” She gave a long sigh and shook her head slightly. “Past that though, the business is done and the dear girl does seem to love him despite his obvious faults. On the left of Finn is Talon, Arjuna’s Heir and Commander of the Flame Riders. Beside him is his son Havoc.”

“Havoc?” Jala asked in surprise her gaze swiftly moving from the impressive armored form of Talon to Havoc’s more familiar form.

Adana looked at her in surprise. “You know Havoc?” she asked.

Jala smiled and nodded her eyes scanning the crowds for Victory. “I do. I consider him a friend, and I hope he considers me the same. He has saved my life more than once,” she told Adana, her smile fading a bit when she realized Victory wasn’t in the crowd. “I don’t see Victory though. I’ve never seen the two of them apart. Is he OK?”

Chuckling, Adana nodded. “I see, you know them as Fionaveir then. Let’s not mention that fact with Truce around. The Avanti do despise the Fionaveir. Victory is not here because House Faydwer and House Avanti cannot be kept from attempting to kill each other no matter how civilized the Avanti claim to be,” she explained.

“Are Finn’s parents not here?” Jala asked after scanning the platform and realizing it held no one else.

With a heavy sigh Adana shook her head. “Sovaesh is no longer welcome in these lands. When he chose to marry Avanti there was a falling out between Arjuna and my son. It took all of my cunning to convince my brother to not punish the children for the sins of their father. And so my grandchildren are allowed within these borders but not my son.”

Frowning at the pain in the woman’s voice, Jala gave her a light hug. “I’m sorry, Adana, I didn’t realize,” she apologized, wishing she had never brought up the topic.

Adana returned the hug and began slowly walking again. “Just wait until you see my Finn in his uniform. Everything else will fade from your mind,” she said, abruptly changing the topic.

The crowd parted quickly for Adana. Jala kept a close pace behind her. As they neared the platform, Finn noticed her and smiled. True to Adana’s word, all else but Finn faded from her mind. The uniform jacket fell below his hips and fit so well it had obviously been tailored for him. The material was fine black wool with insignias that she didn’t recognize sewn into the high collar and shoulders. Everything from the house sigil at his collar to the gold buttons down the front had been polished to a mirror shine. His dark red pants were of the same quality fabric and the knee high boots he wore looked as though they had never been worn before.

“You must be baking in all of that wool,” Jala said quietly as he took her hand and helped her onto the dais beside him.

He shrugged and shook his head. “Firym blood, remember? Heat really doesn’t bother me much.” His eyes roved over her and his smile widened. “Traditional Firym gown. I had wondered if they would get you to wear one.”

“She had a struggle over it I assure you. I feel naked,” Jala explained with a bit of a blush.

“You know, a tug on one strap and a tap to those clasps on your hips and you would be,” he whispered in her ear.

“That didn’t help at all,” she said frowning. Suddenly, the prospect of standing in front of a large crowd of Firym naked came to mind and she fought down the desire to run back to the palace.

Grinning, Finn led her to stand before Arjuna as if sensing she was about to bolt. The others on the dais quickly stepped down from the platform and took places in the crowd. A brush of fur against her hip caught her attention and she looked down to see Marrow seated beside her.

The Avanti tried to talk him out of this, Marrow told her.

And what did he say? Jala asked keeping the conversation mental.

The Avanti told him that this marriage would damage his reputation in Sanctuary because Cassia Avanti dislikes you so. Finn laughed and said it did not matter what Cassia thought, he is not too fond of her either. It felt like a warning to me. I think I should have waited to eat so I could have removed the Avanti, Marrow explained.

“Jala?” Finn’s voice broke through the mental conversation and from his expression she gathered it was not the first time he had spoken her name. “Do you have the chain?” He asked in an amused tone. He flicked his gaze toward Marrow and smiled his understanding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you when you first spoke,” she replied in embarrassment and handed the chain over to him.

He in turn handed it to Arjuna who spent a good long while simply studying the links. Looking up at the two of them, Arjuna nodded his approval. “One of the finest chains I’ve seen, even on both sides with the same metal. This is truly a blessed match,” he said quietly.

Finn leaned closer to her. “He is keeping his voice low as he says that so his wife doesn’t hear him,” he whispered to her loud enough for Arjuna to overhear.

Frowning at him, Arjuna motioned toward their hands. “If not for your lady, I’d leave you standing on the dais half the day for that Finn,” Arjuna said in a mock scolding.

Finn grinned and carefully positioned her in front of Arjuna. He moved to stand opposite her and raised his hand, motioning for her to do the same. She did, and he pressed his hand against hers while Arjuna wrapped the chain between their hands and around their wrists. Locking her gaze with his, Jala smiled and kept her hand steady, not allowing it to flinch in the slightest. His own larger hand was cool to the touch and held as motionless as stone.

“We gather here before all under the light of the Sun to witness the bonding of Finn Sovaesh and Jala in the ceremony of marriage,” Arjuna began, his voice deep and steady. “They have forged a true chain of devotion and await only the test of endurance to be one. Are there any here who speak against this match?”

As Arjuna’s voice carried the last words over the crowd Finn’s free hand dropped to the ceremonial blade at his side and rested on the hilt. Jala watched him with widening eyes and raised an eyebrow in question.

“It’s the traditional way of saying if you object you better be ready to fight,” Finn said, his voice too low for any other to hear. “And if anyone does object, they will be fighting,” he added with a grin.

The crowd remained silent, apparently taking Finn’s warning quite seriously. Arjuna gave a nod and clasped one hand over their two joined ones. A faint tingle spread through the chain as he removed his hands and continued on with the ceremony.

Finn held her gaze and grinned again. “He is pretty much saying whatever he wants right now, there really are no traditional words past the point of objections. For those he doesn’t like the ceremony usually lasts several hours. Really, once the magic fades in the chain it’s done,” he whispered.

“What happens after that?” Jala asked, keeping her voice equally low and wondering if she shouldn’t actually be paying attention to the High Lord.

“Feast, dancing, lots of drinking, and then I get to have you all to myself,” he explained and as he spoke the last part a devilish grin crept onto his face. “You, however, are not allowed to get drunk tonight,” he warned, the grin never fading.

“I never actually intend to get drunk you know, it always just sort of happens,” she objected mildly.

“If you do tonight I’ll have Sovann pour a potion down your throat,” he said in further warning.

She tried not to blanch at the thought of the potion’s taste. “Fair enough, I will stick with water I think,” she agreed.

“Nothing that drastic I hope,” he replied trying hard not to laugh.

“Better safe than drinking that potion,” Jala whispered back. “Shouldn’t we be paying attention to your uncle?” she asked, feeling guilty about ignoring her own wedding ceremony.

“He could be talking about crops for all I care. The important part is you and the chain,” Finn replied, barely stopping himself from shrugging. “I’ll pay attention when he moves forward to remove the chain, I promise.”

“If you say so, it seems rude though,” she said and stole a glance at Arjuna to see if he had noticed their conversation. If he had, the High Lord gave no indication. His gaze was fixed on the crowd, and he seemed to be motioning toward them and the sun.

“Sun is sacred here if you hadn’t guessed,” Finn explained when her gaze returned to him. “The Firym say the first of their people came from the sun. In truth, they are actually related to the Faydwer distantly and likely some demon blood, which means they are related to either the Avanti or the Rivasan.” His gaze flicked to his uncle who had not slowed in his speech. “See if he was paying attention to us he would have stopped right then to smack me upside the head,” he grinned.

Fighting back laughter, Jala gave him a slight glare. “If my hand moves it will be your fault, Finn,” she warned.

His expression sobered at once. His grin vanished leaving a perfectly neutral expression though his eyes still twinkled with mischief. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and respectful.

“Much, thank you,” she agreed, though she was a bit suspicious of the look in his eye.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m behaving,” Finn said, a bit of his grin returning.

“For now, with that look in your eye, though, I wonder for how long.”

“Till about now,” Finn said with a smile as Arjuna moved forward and carefully removed the chain from their joined hands. A line of deep gold remained on her hand where the links had been, perfectly echoing the delicate pattern of the chain. Finn moved forward the moment Arjuna stepped back. One hand slipped behind her neck pulling her closer while the other wrapped around her lower, the edge of his fingers slipping below her skirt to rest on skin. He kissed her before she could object to the placement of his hand and the kiss itself stole all objections from her mind. He had kissed her before, but never like this. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss, the roaring approval of the crowd fading from her mind, as did the knowledge of everything but Finn. Drawing back at last he smiled at her and lowered his head in respect to his uncle. “Thank you Uncle Arjuna for blessing this marriage with your words,” he said formally, his tone filled with respect.

“I doubt you could repeat five words of what I said,” Arjuna replied mildly. “And if you ever suggest my people are related to the Faydwer, Avanti, or Rivasan’s again I’ll have you whipped at a post,” he added with a smile that seemed predatory.

Finn laughed and bowed in acknowledgment to his uncle. “Are there any here who speak against this match?” He quoted in a perfect mimicry of Arjuna’s deeper voice. “You see, Uncle, I heard the important part,” he said grinning.

Turning to Jala with a shake of his head, Arjuna smiled and offered his hand. She took it and he squeezed it lightly. “Welcome to our family, Jala, though you may soon wish you had married Sovann rather than this impudent brat,” he said with warmth in his voice despite the words.

“Sovann couldn’t handle my Vezradesh. Look at the Bendazzi, Uncle. That is the mirror of her soul. I knew the moment I saw Marrow, I would marry her,” Finn replied taking her hand the moment Arjuna released it. “Before we go to the feast I feel I should warn you the others are here. Apparently Sovann informed them of the wedding, and I have to say Wisp is not pleased with either of us for sneaking off as she calls it,” Finn told her. He watched Arjuna leave the platform and began leading her that way as well.

“I’m glad they are here,” she said and then paused. “But will Wisp and Truce have difficulties? Adana says their houses do not get along,” she added with concern.

“Doubtless they will, and saying their houses don’t get along is putting it mildly. However, if you want to get into politics there will likely be more trouble from Valor and my uncle than there will be from Wisp and Truce. The Firym and Valor’s homeland of Arovan have a long standing feud on which lands hold better craftsmen. It’s silly really but duels have been fought over which sword is better crafted. Personally, I think it matters more how well the sword is wielded.”

“Aren’t your blades crafted in Arovan?” Jala asked quietly.

Grinning, Finn shook his head slightly. “Not the ones I wear when I visit here,” he said patting the sword at his side.

The crowds had thinned below as most had already headed for the feast. Only a few figures remained waiting and all of them were faces she knew well. Wisp moved to the front of the group, looking almost a stranger in the deep green dress she wore. Jala had never actually seen the Fae in anything other than tunic and breeches and usually a cloak covered that. She stopped a few feet from them with a broad smile on her face and her hands on her hips.

“How dare the two of you sneak off like that,” she said, her tone sounding far more indignant than her expression looked.

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Jala began.

“You are lucky that Sovann had enough good sense to tell us,” Wisp continued, cutting off Jala’s explanation neatly. “Had you two returned to the school married and none of us been any the wiser I would have had Jail beat Finn senseless.”

Jail raised an eyebrow and glanced at Wisp and shrugged to Jala. “I suppose she might have been able to bribe me into it. Congratulations by the way.”

“I can’t believe you did it,” Valor said, his voice holding a bit of dismay. He had pushed past Wisp while she was speaking and now stood beside Finn with eyes locked on the marriage marks on his hand.

“Did Jala steal your man, Valor?” Neph asked dryly from the back of the group.

Valor glared back at the mage and then looked back to Finn. “Do you realize what you have just done to me?” he asked, the dismay still clear in his voice. “Not only will every single woman in Sanctuary be looking for me now, my mother will be saying things like ‘Finn is married, why aren’t you?’ I will never know peace again, you bastard.”

“Why thank you, Valor, you have no idea how much your good will means to me on this special day,” Finn replied, smothering a chuckle.

“Congratulations. Jala is way too good for you. I can’t believe you actually convinced her to marry you. I’d swear you had gotten her drunk if it didn’t take a full night to make a Firym chain and she surely would have sobered up before standing in the damn sun with you,” Neph said, his eyes fixed with annoyance on the brightness of the square.

“Ahh, Neph, thank you. It was her idea actually, but thanks for the vote of confidence in me,” Finn replied and pulled Jala closer to him with a smile.

“You were wrong, Jail, she did suffer damage to the mind when she healed him,” Neph said elbowing Jail lightly.

“We should probably get to the feast,” Sovann said quietly, diplomatically ending the debate on her sanity. He nodded to Finn and motioned for them to lead off.

Smiling, Finn nodded thanks to his brother and headed back toward the palace, keeping the pace slow and chatting with the others as they walked. While there was still teasing, the general attitude of his friends seemed happy, if a bit shocked.

Sovann moved to walk beside her as they entered the crowded gardens behind the palace. Tables had been set up in the open areas and the seats were already packed. Finn was leading her toward the main table where Arjuna and the rest of his family sat. Both ends of the table had empty chairs to accommodate their friends from the Academy with two chairs empty beside Arjuna himself as seats of honor for the newly married.

“Do not eat the meat courses, they are marinated in peppers and cooked in peppers and usually stuffed with peppers. Well, you get the idea. It makes Firewater seem like nothing. Stick with the fruits and cheeses, though I’d avoid the cheese with the red flecks in it. That has peppers in it as well,” Sovann warned her in a hushed voice as they approached the seats.

She eyed the loaded table and nodded slightly to Sovann. Even as they approached the scents of spices were strong. “They certainly like their peppers,” she murmured.

Nodding his agreement, Sovann squeezed her arm before moving off to sit near Wisp, no doubt to keep her attention from Truce Avanti. Sovann was quite apparently the diplomat of his family.

Finn pulled her seat out as they reached the table, placing her closest to Arjuna. Taking his own seat beside her he smiled at his sister and Truce to his right.

“Congratulations, Brother. You look very happy,” Nallia said, her voice soft with an allure to it that surely caught every man’s attention. Jala tried not to stare at her but found her gaze drawn back to her time and again. Nallia was no different from any other Immortal as far as beauty went but her movements were like Finn’s, fluid with grace. She had a poise about her that spoke loudly of nobility.

“She dines often with the High Lord of Avanti, don’t blame her for her daintiness,” Arjuna whispered in her ear.

Jala looked away from Nallia and over to Arjuna. He was leaning toward her one elbow on the table. His wife sat just beyond him engaged in animated conversation with Adana. “I wasn’t blaming her for it. I was pondering how clumsy I must look beside her. I’ve never eaten in such fine company before. Honestly, I had no idea Finn’s family was so impressive,” she whispered back.

Arjuna sniffed in distaste. “Do you see my Elandrae?” he asked, his voice still hushed in confidential tones. With one hand he subtly motioned toward his wife. Jala glanced past him to the tall red head. She wore a gown of red silk with black gems forming the rearing horse of their sigil down the front. Gold earrings hung heavy with rubies, as well as a choker so thick with the red gems it was almost impossible to see the gold of the necklace. Her hair flowed down her back; much as Adana’s did, waving back and forth as she motioned with her hands while talking.

“She is beautiful,” Jala said in acknowledgment and looked back to him unsure of his point.

“She can curse violently enough to peel paint from the walls. She has a tendency of spitting after a sword match, especially if she has lost. On any occasion other than a formal one she wears little more than a bra and breeches. When she walks she uses a swordsman’s swagger rather than the dainty little courtier steps. Generally, she eats with her fingers rather than silverware. In short, my High Lady is considered a barbarian by the Avanti. And yet in my eyes she is worth the entire country of Avanti and then some. Do not judge yourself by their standards. You will never be an equal in their eyes, and you will always be worth more than the lot of them to Finn. Be yourself, and if they don’t like it, to the Darklands with them,” he said and picked up his glass to take a short drink.

“Thank you, Arjuna,” she said and felt herself relaxing.

The Firym Lord smiled at her and nodded once. “Beware the meat dear, if you are not fond of our Firewater you won’t like it,” he said as trays were brought to them by servants.

“Sovann warned me. He said the fruit is the safest.” She grinned and moved aside as a servant sat a covered dish down in front of her. Glancing down she realized her plate was different from the others and quickly looked back to question the servant but the girl was already gone.

“Everything on that plate should be to your liking,” Finn said turning away from conversation with his sister. “I didn’t think you would care for the Firym cooking so I had the cooks prepare that special when I took Marrow down for food.”

“No Ondathi?” she asked. The thought of eating snake still didn’t appeal at all to her.

Shifting slightly he leaned closer and removed the cover. “Beef, rice, and vegetables,” he said pointing to each in turn.

She listened but her eyes were fixed on the black skinned fruit sliced in a small bowl on the side of the tray. “Jimpa, but I thought they only grew in Merro,” she said and looked at him.

“My uncle has a tree in his sunroom. I convinced Sovann to use a bit of magic to make it ripen despite them being out of season. They only grow naturally in Merro but can be grown elsewhere with a lot of magic,” he explained.

“Thank you, Finn,” she said with more emotion than anyone had likely ever shown in regards to fruit.

Grinning, he opened his own tray and speared a piece of white meat with chunks of peppers stuck to it. “Ondathi?” he offered, holding his fork toward her.

“No, I’ll stick with the beef,” she assured him returning the grin. He shrugged and popped the piece of meat in his mouth chewing with obvious enjoyment. Nallia spoke again and he turned back to his sister.

She ate in silence for a bit, simply listening to the conversations around her and watching the crowd. The Firym seemed more animated than the others present and she caught Truce watching several exchanges with obvious disapproval. He never looked in her direction, not once in the entire meal, and she had no doubts that if he had the expression would have been one of disapproval as well. As the courses progressed, musicians began to play. The music was fast in tempo with heavy drums and she tried to imagine what the Firym considered dancing. She had barely learned a few less formal dances at the Temple but judging by the pace of this music none of what she knew would be sufficient. Her attention was brought back to the table as Arjuna moved his chair over and another was placed beside her. With a grin Havoc seated himself and shook his head at her sadly.

“Had I but known you had an interest in Firym men I never would have allowed you to be sent to Sanctuary. With the selection you had available there, the one you ended up with is more mutt than actual Firym,” he said mournfully.

“Hey, don’t flirt with my wife, you ass,” Finn snapped and reached behind her to smack Havoc on the back of the head.

Laughing, Havoc dodged the blow leaning forward toward the table. “Finn, where are your manners? You are going to offend the Avanti,” Havoc scolded and then laughed again. “Congratulations, Jala, you have married decently. Well, I suppose. And when he gets himself killed in one of his stupid duels you will know where to come to find a more worthy husband,” Havoc said once he had regained his composure a bit.

“I won’t get killed, Havoc. Damn, you are still a bastard,” Finn growled though he looked ready to burst into laughter himself.

Jala looked between the two of them trying to decide if they were actually on good terms or not.

Catching her look, Finn smiled. “Remember the fishing story?” he asked. She nodded and he motioned toward Havoc. “The bastard that reminded me of the fountain with fish when I couldn’t catch anything at the river.”

Havoc burst into renewed laughter and nodded to her. “It was beautiful. He was so happy when he caught the fish, right until my grandfather caught him,” he said, the words only slightly distorted by his continued amusement.

“When I joined the Flame Riders he switched my horse out with a donkey on the first day of drills. I went into the stable a bit late, thanks to him, I might add. All of the other riders were on the field already and my horse was nowhere to be seen, a damn donkey in his stall,” Finn said with a glare.

“He rode onto the field on a donkey,” Havoc grinned. “As proud as you please, chin up in the air on a damn donkey. I thought he would miss drills and get a scolding, but not Finn.”

“I didn’t even know the two of you were related,” Jala admitted smiling at the story despite how Finn was glaring.

“Most of the trouble I was in during the tender years of my childhood can be laid at Havoc’s feet,” Finn told her, his glare fading into a smirk.

Havoc gave a slight nod. “I took him to his first brothel,” he said proudly.

“And had me watch the door for his mother while he went upstairs with three girls. I was ten at the time, or around that. He left me alone in a room filled with half-naked women and expected me to stare at the damn door.” Finn waved a hand at his cousin in accusation.

“And you got me back by telling my mother which room I was in when she arrived,” Havoc reminded him and Finn chuckled. He shook his head at the two of them and gave a sigh. “I never would have expected this, Finn. Not only are you married, you married Jala. Do you know who her father was?”

“Badger,” Finn answered with an amused grin.

“You knew my father?” Jala asked, her voice going quiet.

“He was the first person to teach me what dirt tasted like,” Finn told her with a shrug. “I was young at the time. I can’t remember what he was here for, but when he mentioned where he was from I let him have it, and he taught me a valuable lesson about speaking with respect to your betters.”

“You had a problem with Merro then?” Jala asked, wondering what he must have thought when she had taken him to her homeland.

“He was waiting on the border to attack Merro with a full contingent of Flame Riders before the Oblivion was unleashed,” Havoc said quietly, taking care that his voice didn’t carry as far as Nallia and her husband.

Finn nodded and shrugged at her. “The High Lord of Merro was nothing at all like you, Jala. What you build will be a much better place,” he whispered.

“What we build,” she corrected and leaned against him.

“What we build,” he agreed, squeezing her hand lightly. He stood slowly, taking care that he didn’t bump her as he did. Tugging lightly on her hand he motioned for her to stand as well. “Come dance with me; others are already dancing,” he said.

She looked doubtfully at the couples dancing to the fast-paced music. “I don’t know how to dance like that, Finn,” she objected, but stood slowly when he continued to tug on her hand lightly.

Laughing, he shook his head at her. “Vezradesh, there is no proper set way to do anything in Firym, you just simply do it. Let go of inhibitions and move with the music. That’s all there is to it.”

She smiled at the use of the now familiar word and followed him toward the clearing in the garden that was serving as the dance floor. “Which meaning do you think of when you call me that?” she asked as they reached the edge.

“All of them, heart, love, eternity. It all describes you perfectly,” he replied and swept her out onto the grass for her first attempt at what the Firym considered dancing.

Out of breath and sweating, Jala left the dancing with a wide smile on her face. She wasn’t sure how many songs they had danced to, but even Finn seemed out of breath.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Finn said with a grin and snagged two glasses of what looked like wine from a passing servant. He sniffed the drink carefully before handing one over to her. “Wine, not sure what flavor though but it’s not pepper.”

Taking a dainty sip she sampled it and nodded with approval. “Raspberry I think, though I’m not sure either. It’s cold though and that’s all that matters right now.” She followed him from the brighter lit parts of the garden and took a seat beside him on a stone bench. Stretching out her legs, she flexed her toes in the sandals and took a long breath. “I need a bath now,” she said with a faint laugh and wiped sweat from her brow. “It’s so humid here. I’ve never been in this type of climate before.”

He nodded as he shrugged out of his jacket and let it drop to the bench beside him. He wore a gold linen shirt with a red vest over it and was unbuttoning the vest as well. “Formal uniforms are just too much. What’s the point of a fully buttoned jacket as well as a vest? No one ever sees the vest,” he grumbled.

“You looked very good in it,” she offered, taking another sip of the wine and watching him.

He finished with the vest and tugged the shirt out, for a moment she thought he intended to shed it as well but seemed satisfied with simply untucking it and loosening the collar. Putting his arms behind him on the bench he leaned back and stared up at the star-filled sky.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her own gaze following his up to the night sky. Despite the lights of the city, the sky shone brightly with stars.

“Wondering if I can get away with sneaking off with you without being rude. It’s early and likely they will want us to stay longer but I’d rather leave,” he answered, his gaze still on the heavens but the smile on his face was for her.

“You can blame it on me tomorrow. Tell them I’m not as enduring as the Firym women and I simply couldn’t handle anymore dancing,” she offered as she slid closer to him on the bench. She took another long drink from the wine and kept her gaze on him.

“Or I could tell them the truth that I wanted to have you to myself,” he countered and leaned over, kissing her neck lightly.

She shivered at the touch and smiled up at him as she turned her head slightly to kiss him. “Or you could tell them that,” she agreed.

He rose and tugged her gently to her feet. Taking the wine glass from her hand he set it down beside his own on the bench and picked up his discarded clothing. With a final glance toward the celebration he led her out the back of the garden and down a dimly lit street.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally. She had expected they would return to Sanctuary or perhaps a room in the palace.

“Just a bit further,” he assured her. His pace was faster than normal, walking briskly with an arm around her waist. The surroundings were a bit familiar and Jala thought she recognized one of the fountains from earlier that day. He came to a stop outside a two story house and headed up the steps. Ivy grew thick along the stone walls with roses blooming to either side of the stairs. Fishing in his pocket he removed a set of keys and unlocked the door. “Our house,” he explained at her look of confusion. With a nudge of his hip, he pushed the door open and held it for her while she entered.

“I thought you had rooms in the palace,” she said entering the dark room.

“I do, but there is no privacy in the palace,” Finn explained. Dropping the keys on a table near the doorway he touched a mage light that bathed the entry hall in a soft blue glow. While plain in comparison with the palace, the house was well furnished and cared for. “I usually spend a few months a year here, but it is maintained by my family when I’m gone. So there will be fresh sheets and there won’t be dust everywhere.” he hung his jacket on a peg and tossed the vest down beside the keys. With a wave he motioned her on into the house.

She heard him lock the door behind them and moved on into the house. It wasn’t large by noble standards but by the country houses she had known near Bliss this was a mansion.

She was looking around the living room when he moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach. “I’d rather give you the full tour tomorrow,” he said quietly in her ear and kissed her on the neck.

Turning in his arms she gave him another kiss and then froze. Stepping back quickly she looked toward the door with a bit of panic. “I forgot Marrow, I left him at the party,” she blurted and prayed the Bendazzi hadn’t gotten into any trouble.

Finn burst into laughter and straightened up crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at her with amusement. “Marrow is a full grown Bendazzi and I sincerely doubt he wants to be anywhere near this house. I’m sure he will be fine. He is likely hunting in the jungles right now. You know he really doesn’t like getting his food from our hands,” he assured her. “I think I might be mildly offended that you could spare a thought for him. You know you are supposed to be entirely focused on me,” he added with a bit of sarcasm.

Blushing, she nodded and glanced up at him. “I’m sorry, I really am, that wasn’t at all appropriate,” she said with a helpless shrug.

Pulling her over to him he kissed her again and smiled. “No harm done. Just shows I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention focused on me.”

With no effort at all he picked her up and carried her through a doorway at the back of the house. He sat her down again on the edge of a bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. She watched him remove the shirt and toss it aside and felt her mouth growing dry with nerves. “Finn, I’ve never...” she let her voice trail off as he moved to sit beside her.

Silently removing the pins and flowers from her hair, he gave her another kiss and pulled the strap holding her top in place. “It’s just like dancing, Vezradesh, simply let go of inhibitions and move,” he murmured in her ear and began to work his way down with kisses.

Her breath began to quicken at his touch and she closed her eyes and leaned back as his fingers nimbly triggered the clasps on her skirt. Pushing her back gently on the bed, Finn continued to work his way lower and her breath came in short gasps. Digging her nails into his shoulder she followed his advice and let go of inhibitions.

Chapter 32

Firym

“I’m going to butcher who ever that is and have Marrow eat the evidence,” Finn grumbled as the knocking on the door came again.

“Mmkay,” she agreed sleepily, and burrowed further into his arm, her cheek resting on the edge of his chest.

The knock came again this time more of a pounding and Finn uttered a curse that was more growl than actual language. “One would think if I didn’t answer the damn door the first three times that I wouldn’t answer it on the fourth.”

“How about the fifth?” Jala asked and rolled away as he rose quickly, his speed fueled by his temper. Rolling back over onto her stomach she looked up at him sleepily through a tangle of curls. “Slap whoever it is for me too and come back to bed.”

He paused in pulling on his pants and looked down at her with almost a pained expression. “Damn, I don’t want to open that door,” he complained and leaned over to give her a kiss.

Pushing up onto her elbows she met him halfway for the kiss and gave him a devilish smile. “I don’t want you to either. As much as they are knocking it must be important and you know you won’t be coming back to bed.” She let her arms slide slowly back under the pillow and lowered herself back onto the bed, stretching like a cat.

“You learn fast,” Finn said with a bit of admiration and gave a heavy sigh. “I could almost ignore the knocking with an invitation like that,” he admitted and finished fastening his pants.

Eyes closed she listened as he left the room and slowly rose from the bed herself. Listening, she recognized Havoc’s voice and Finn’s angry response. Hearing his cousin she knew without a doubt he wouldn’t be coming back to bed. If it had been one of their friends from the Academy he might have simply sent them away. Frowning, she looked down at the discarded wedding clothes and realized she had no other clothes here. Still too tired to summon magical ones she moved to his closet and pushed the door back. With little discrimination other than length she chose one of his shirts at random and pulled it on. With a cursory glance in the mirror to make sure everything that needed to be covered, was covered, she left the room, taking the back way for the kitchen. By the sounds of the voices, Finn and Havoc were in the living room and from the sound of Finn’s voice, Havoc hadn’t had a chance to voice what he had come for.

Scanning the kitchen, she located the cold box and peaked inside, not really expecting to find anything. Apparently Finn had thought of everything. Three different bottles of juice and a jug of fresh milk rested on the top shelf while the bottom shelves of the device held various fruits and meats. Selecting a bottle at random she sniffed daintily at its contents and poured three glasses. She wasn’t sure exactly what type of juice it was other than dark in color and sweet smelling.

Balancing the glasses carefully, she pushed through the door and into the living room, her bare feet barely making a sound as she crossed the room. Havoc was leaning against a wall near the door and Finn was sitting on the couch his expression torn between annoyance and anger. Wordlessly, she handed Havoc a glass of the juice and crossed to Finn taking a seat on his lap. They had fallen silent when she entered and both men watched her. She offered Finn a glass of the juice and he took it. Still silent, his gaze locked on her bare legs and slowly climbed to her face.

“I hate you, Havoc,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.

Havoc gave a slow nod watching her sip from her glass. “I’d hate me too. I begged them to send someone else. They unanimously agreed I should be the one to wake you.”

Lowering the glass, Jala licked her lips and smiled. “Grape. I really didn’t expect something so simple. Very good though.” Looking up at Havoc she gave him a sweet smile. “Now tell me in a quick simple fashion why I’m not going to let Finn kill you?” she said pleasantly.

“Because Lutheron sent me to wake you. Because it wasn’t my fault. If Finn is going to kill anyone it should be Lutheron. Ever heard the expression ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’” Havoc began.

“Right, right, so what exactly was so bloody damned important that we needed to be woken less than three hours after we actually went to sleep the day after our wedding? Bear in mind that if Finn is too tired, I do have a Bendazzi somewhere nearby so make the answer a good one,” Jala asked, her tone still sweet.

“I love you so much right now,” Finn murmured and kissed her on the cheek.

Havoc sighed and looked at the two of them. “I’m sorry, I really am. Symphony spoke with your friends from the Academy last night after the wedding feast. Somehow during the conversation she arranged for a meeting of the High Lords here today. Well, some of the Lords anyway, one of them being Lord Zachary from Oblivion. I believe you needed to speak with him, Jala, from what Wisp says anyway. She wants you there and these are not the sort of people you gather often,” Havoc explained.

“Damn.” Jala sighed the word and leaned back against Finn. “We can’t kill him now, love, or Lutheron. He is right, I do need to speak with Lord Zachary,” she said, the sweetness gone from her voice and replaced with disappointment.

“You don’t have to sound so unhappy about not killing me,” Havoc complained.

Finn let his head fall forward gently resting it against her shoulder and let out a long sigh. “She is upset that we do actually have to leave the house. So am I. I was very close to telling you to go bugger yourself at the door. The only thing that stopped me was guessing you would just start knocking again,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by her shirt.

“When are we expected to be there?” Jala asked in resignation.

“Lunch, it’s to be held at the palace, obviously, and not many know about it. Arjuna doesn’t want to explain why High Lord Arovan is here to any of his people,” Havoc replied.

Finn’s head snapped up and he looked at Havoc in shock. “Arovan? Who else?” he asked.

“Han’shy, Delvayon’s Heir, Faydwer, and that’s it as far as I know, aside from the Lord of Oblivion,” Havoc explained.

“And they want her to let all of those lords know she is Lady Merrodin? Are we supposed to simply trust them with that knowledge?” Finn demanded.

“From what I understand, there will be an Oathkeeper present,” Havoc said in a calming voice.

“A Temple Oathkeeper?” Jala asked in shock. She had only met one before and that was a brief meeting. According to what Father Belson had told her, an Oathkeeper served all of the Aspects and to give your word before one was to hold to it or anger all of the gods. To be out of favor with one Aspect was one thing, to have all of them out for your blood was something most people could not survive.

Havoc nodded. “An Oathkeeper from the Temple of Honor in Faydwer, if I have it correctly,” he clarified.

“Well, I can’t really argue with that. If anyone is fool enough to lie to an Oathkeeper, I won’t have to worry about them long,” Finn relented and rested his head against Jala’s shoulder again.

Taking another drink from her juice, Jala considered his words and glanced outside one of the windows. Realizing she couldn’t get a good look at the sun’s position without moving from Finn’s lap she looked back to Havoc. “How long does that give us before the meeting? I’m not even sure what time it is now,” she asked.

“Roughly three hours. Lutheron wanted you to have plenty of notice. He wanted me to come earlier but I refused,” Havoc answered.

“Get out. We love you Havoc, but get out now,” she said pointing toward the door. “We will be there when we are supposed to, but I’m not sacrificing anymore of my time to this than I have to,” she added as Havoc sat the glass of juice down with a muffled chuckle. He gave her a nod and left quickly and quietly.

She felt Finn shaking slightly behind her and realized he was laughing silently. Lifting his head from her shoulder he gave her a huge grin. “You are so perfect,” he said and carefully took the juice from her hand. Setting it down on the table beside him, he leaned back fully against the couch.

Turning to face him she straddled his lap and gazed down at his tanned chest and tousled hair and smiled. His green eyes were alert but slightly bloodshot and there was a faint trace of darkness under them from lack of sleep, but he was still perfect in her eyes. “That sentiment is shared completely,” she said tracing a finger down his chest. Raising her hands to her shirt she began to slowly undo the buttons, his eyes following her every movement. “We have to go back to Sanctuary tonight, don’t we?” she asked quietly.

He gave a wordless nod, his eyes still locked on her progress with the buttons. His own hands rose to rest on her bare hips and she could feel his anticipation and lust through the link they shared. “School tomorrow, lots to catch up on,” he said absently.

“And these meetings will likely take the rest of the day once they begin,” she said shrugging her shoulders from the shirt and letting it fall to the floor behind her. “So all we really have is about two hours before we have to get ready to go to the palace.”

His hands slid up her sides and then back down to her hips pulling her closer to him. “Two and a half, maybe two and three quarters. I dress fast,” he murmured and began unlacing his pants far more quickly than he had put them on.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him lightly just below the ear. “Two and a half then, I need time to summon clothes,” she whispered in agreement.

They headed up the steps to the palace side by side. Finn was moving far better than she had expected him to, given that his eyes seemed fixed on her rather than where he walked. She had chosen a more Firym style of clothing when she summoned the new clothes and the dark purple dress was split to the hip on both sides fastened with silver lacing. The top part was sleeveless and cut far deeper in the front than anything she had ever worn before, giving an ample view of the mark of Fortune as well as her other gifts from Fortune.

Sovann was waiting for them at the top of the stairs but remained silent as they approached, his gaze going from the high heeled boots she wore that rose to just above her knee to the top of her head. She had left her hair down, not wanting to bother with pins and such with so little sleep. He seemed about to speak but closed his mouth again.

“Have you seen Marrow?” she asked when it became apparent that he was going to simply remain silent.

“He is inside sleeping by the fountain. He stayed near me for most of the night,” Sovann replied and cleared his throat. “You…uhh…you look very nice,” he said at last as if finally giving up on searching for proper words.

“She looks too bloody good to take into a room filled with men,” Finn agreed with a bit of a frown.

Glancing back at him, she smiled. “Neph says nine tenths of power is the appearance of power. He also says when you cannot portray power you should distract them from your true nature. I do not radiate power yet, Finn, so I’m distracting. Judging by your reaction it should work nicely,” she explained and moved past Sovann to locate Marrow.

“Very distracting,” Finn agreed, following her in.

“They are gathered in the war room,” Sovann said as he followed into step by his brother. “What did you do to her, Finn? She was sweet when I left her yesterday,” Sovann whispered, obviously not expecting her to overhear.

“He did about what any man does on his marriage night, Sovann,” she replied with a smile. “And he did it very, very well,” she added, amused to see the blush on Sovann’s face at her words. It was rather nice to see someone other than herself blush.

“There is always room for improvement, I’d like to prove I can be better,” Finn offered with a smile. “Let’s skip this meeting and I’ll get right to that,” he suggested with a nod back toward the way they had come.

Stopping by where Marrow was sprawled on his side, Jala leaned over and scratched the Bendazzi behind the ears. Wake up, I need you with me, Marrow, she said gently. Opening one yellow eye to regard her, the Bendazzi yawned and stretched, flexing his long claws as he did so. With a muffled grumble he rose to his feet and stretched again.

Need me for what? he asked curiously.

We have a council meeting with the High Lords. I need you beside me for it, she explained.

To scare the bloody hell out of them if needed, Marrow reasoned and seemed amused when she nodded her agreement. Between myself and your mate I believe we can intimidate, though he doesn’t look too intimidating right now. What did you do to him?

Jala glanced back at Finn who was leaning against a wall waiting patiently, a look of remorse on his face. I told him we had to get out of bed, she answered quietly and shrugged.

My sympathy would be much greater if I hadn’t had to spend the night watching Sovann play with little glowing rocks. At least the two of you enjoyed the night, Marrow said with another yawn.

“You have been playing with glowing rocks, Sovann?” Jala asked as she crossed the room to stand by the brothers once more.

“Focus stones actually and yes they do faintly glow. I was planning to show them to you when we got back to Sanctuary. I’d like you to have some,” Sovann clarified.

“What do they do?” she asked curiously, falling into step beside Sovann and Finn as they led the way toward Arjuna’s war room.

“Do you remember when I was separating the magic from the sword the night we met?” Sovann asked quickly warming to the topic. Beyond everything else, she had found Sovann cherished talk about his work and studies the most.

She nodded. “The crystals you were filling, yes I remember.”

“I’ve broken them down more perfectly,” he explained and held out his open palm to her. He concentrated for a moment and the faint glow of blue and green and then red came from just beneath the skin in a circle on his palm. “The blue is for water, green is earth, and red is fire obviously. They enhance magic from any of those schools. Since I’m so wretched at battle magic, I chose to use elemental stones to enhance my weak areas. Elemental magic is quite effective in any fight,” he explained.

She took his hand and ran a finger across one of the glowing circles. “Does it hurt?” she asked curiously. To her amazement, even Finn had stopped and was looking closely at Sovann’s hand with interest. Finn rarely showed interest in anything magical in nature unless it was a weapon.

Shaking his head Sovann smiled at her. “No, not at all, and I’ve saved some stones for you. The ones I thought you would like. There is arcane, healing, spirit, and all four of the elemental ones I have so far. You could put three in one hand and four in the other for now. I will have other stones worked up later but I’m not sure how many you can safely place in a palm without disturbing the muscles and bones. They are small but I’d rather not risk limiting your mobility.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the stones to show her. Each one was perfectly cut and smaller than her little fingernail. At a glance, they resembled little more than gem stones ready to be set in jewelry.

She offered her hand to Sovann and nodded toward the stones. “Put them in,” she suggested.

“Wait,” Finn broke in and looked at his brother closely. “Have you tested these?” he asked watching Sovann’s face.

Sovann shrugged and gave a slight nod. “No serious breaking point testing but yes I’ve used them with average magics. As long as she doesn’t decide to move mountains I don’t think there is any danger,” he replied.

“You don’t think there is any? Think? If you are going to put your magical creations anywhere on my wife let alone under her skin, you had better be sure,” Finn snapped.

“Well, go on then,” Jala urged, waving her palm at Sovann.

Finn’s gaze abruptly snapped to her and he shook his head. “Uh, no. You just heard him say he didn’t think they were dangerous,” he said, emphasizing the word think far more than needed.

“Finn, don’t be like this. We don’t have time to argue over this now.” Jala gave him a kiss on the cheek and nodded to Sovann. “C’mon then, I trust your work.” She waved her palm once ore and Sovann took it hesitantly his gaze fixed on Finn and wary. “Finn, tell your brother you aren’t going to stop him because I want him to do this,” Jala said rolling her eyes and looking to Finn.

“I won’t stop you from doing this, but if those stones explode or injure her in any way I’ll remove your legs and drop you in the middle of a Genji hive,” Finn agreed with a smile that held no warmth at all.

Sighing heavily, Sovann flicked his gaze up to Jala. “This is why I was going to wait and tell you in Sanctuary,” he admitted and began resting the stones in a triangle pattern on her palm.

He muttered a few words under his breath and waved his hand over the stones. There was a slight tingle and then they seemed to melt down into her flesh. She watched in amazement absently handing him her other hand for the remaining four stones. Flexing her free hand a few times, she held it up to the light and tried to find the stones beneath her skin.

“You can’t see them unless they are in use,” Sovann explained before muttering the incantation once again.

She looked over in time to see the remaining four gems disappear under her skin and nodded slightly. “How do I use them?” she asked.

“Why did you have to wait to ask that until he had already set them into your skin?” Finn asked with a sigh.

“Focus on the corresponding stone and prepare a spell in that school,” Sovann explained ignoring his brother as usual. “The stone will light up if you have done it properly. Go ahead and give it a try. You can always drop the spell without finishing it and the stone will return to a dormant state.”

Holding up the hand with the three stones, Jala did as directed and smiled at the bright white light shining through her skin. “Very nice, Sovann, thank you,” she said with a smile.

Reaching over to take her hand, Finn ran a finger across the point of light and shook his head. “Well, at the very least you won’t be stumbling around in the dark anymore, your hand is a bloody mage light now,” he said with a bit of disgust toward his brother.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jala said happily and gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Excellent suggestions, love.”

Finn regarded her dryly and she snickered in response. “Shall we continue to the war room?” he asked. She gave a nod and he stalked off down the hall with a muttered comment about Sovann’s true genetics.

“You aren’t really spawned by Kali are you?” Jala asked conversationally as they followed after Finn.

Sovann gave her a smile and a shake of the head. “No, not that I’m aware of, but that’s much better than when I was smaller and Finn tried to convince me I was a goblin orphan. It might have worked too, given how young I was, but Mother caught him at it and he spent the next few hours bitching about the taste of soap.”

“When we have kids I will never make them place soap in their mouths,” Finn called over his shoulder with his tone firm. He continued walking, his stride relaxing and his muttering changing to soap rather than his brother.

“Between the age of five and twelve, Finn tasted every type of soap available in Avanti,” Sovann explained, his tone mild.

“To this day I still hate lavender, chamomile, and lilac,” Finn muttered a bit louder.

“If you will notice he normally favors unscented soap,” Sovann added with a grin that disappeared completely when Finn glanced over his shoulder with a dark look.

“I have never actually tasted soap,” Jala said with a smile. “Perhaps our children will take after me and be sweet and innocent,” she suggested and Finn snickered. She frowned at his back and glanced to Sovann. “I think he might have just suggested I wasn’t a sweet child,” she said with a sniff.

“Do you know that saying that mothers have? ‘I hope your children are ten times worse than you are’ Mother said that to Finn so many times it became a mantra,” Sovann replied.

“Right, so my children are going to be bloodthirsty holy terrors that are in mischief from the time they leave my womb,” Jala said her tone a bit less conversational.

Name the first born Snack and the next Lunch, Marrow suggested narrowly dodging her half-hearted smack in his direction.

Finn came to a stop outside large double doors engraved with two rearing horses. He looked over to her and straightened his posture. He had chosen a well-tailored suit in neutral colors rather than the Firym house colors. Running a hand through his hair, he nodded slightly to her. She moved forward to stand beside him and tried to remember everything Madren had told her about the houses. Judging by Neph’s personality, it would be a stretch to hope to get along with the heir of House Delvayon. Other than Oblivion, which she had obvious difficulties with, the other Lords shouldn’t prove too much of a difficulty.

“Right then, and here we go,” she whispered to Finn and placed a hand on one door and pushed as he pushed on the other. The doors parted easily and all eyes inside the room rose to watch them. Jala recognized several in the room at first glance.

Symphony sat at the head of the table with Arjuna to her right. The man to the left was Lord Faydwer judging by his resemblance to Victory. Lutheron leaned against the wall behind Symphony and Havoc sat on a chair nearby him. On the other side of the table loomed a dark haired man in black plate mail. His dark blue eyes regarded her with all of the emotion of a stone. Oblivion, she reasoned. Madren had told her how the power of destruction had also removed the emotions of the remaining Veirasha. Across from him sat a blond man nearly as large as Jail. He wore leather and chain armor and by the paleness of his hair and skin he must be the Delvayon heir. She moved into the room beside Finn, her gaze lingering on the last man. He was Jail’s father beyond any doubt. He wore his hair in the same fashion with the tattoos on the sides and back of his skull. His skin was swarthy and his expression was quite amused. Beside him sat a large man in shining plate. His long dark hair was braided down his back and his expression was neutral giving no indication of what he thought of his current company. He looked nothing like Valor so he must actually be Lord Arovan himself. From what Madren had said the General of Arovan Lord Troyelle Hai’dia usually traveled on behalf of his lord for such meetings.

“So, this is the lady we swore an oath to hide the identity of,” Lord Han’shy said, his voice holding more amusement than his expression. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but this is also the girl that has Cassia Avanti in such a fit of outrage.”

“I am. Cassia has a bit of a jealousy problem,” Jala agreed taking a seat near the end of the table. Finn declined the seat and leaned against the wall behind her, opposite Lutheron.

“I am informed that you wish to speak with me,” Zachary said, his voice monotone and deep.

“For the love of all Aspects, drop some oblivion Zach you sound like a golem,” Havoc objected.

Lord Dark turned to look at Havoc with what appeared to be annoyance and then exhaled slowly, a dark black fog drifting from his lips. His eyes seemed to lighten to a lighter shade of blue with the action and his posture grew more relaxed. Jala watched with curiosity. Of everyone sitting at the table, she had been the only one to not lean back away from the black fog. Even Arjuna had moved his chair a bit.

“Raw oblivion, pure destruction energy,” Lord Han’shy explained to her as he moved his chair close to the table again. “As you may have guessed, I am Lord Han’shy, but I’d greatly prefer you to simply call me Jin, or whatever four letter word you choose once we know one another better.” he bowed his head to her and motioned across the table. “The blond chap is Kadandelvayan. Yes, that’s right, the Delvay don’t separate surnames from first names but I’m sure he will allow you to simply call him Kadan.” She nodded and he pointed next to Zach. “Black, gloomy bastard also known as Zachary Dark. Over there is Jaradon Faydwer and beside me is Lord Arovan himself. It’s a special occasion when you actually get to see Elijah. He usually sends his arrogant bastard of a general out on business. I believe you should know the rest,” Jin finished and took a small sip from his drink as she nodded to each lord in turn.

“This is Jaladene Merrodin, gentlemen,” Symphony said speaking up at last. “I’ve asked her to join us tonight given that she should know of our plans. She will have a seat on the High Council soon enough.”

“Our plans?” Kadan objected. “I have agreed to nothing.”

“We do hope that you will by the end of the evening, Lord Kadandelvayan,” Symphony said with a slight bow of the head.

Jala watched the exchange and marveled at how easily Symphony managed the man’s name. There was no way she was going to even attempt it. To call him Kadan would surely be less insulting than butchering the pronunciation of his name.

“I wish to know what a Merrodin wants with me. My house has no love for anything spawned in Merro,” Zachary prodded once again, his tone holding more emotion but none that boded well for her conversation with him. She locked gazes with him and steeled herself. She would have to trust Madren’s description for the Lords of Oblivion and pray he had spoken the truth. “You hold the souls of my people and your magic infests my land. I want you to withdraw your power from Merro so that I might restore it and I want the souls of my people back,” she said bluntly, her eyes never wavering from his.

“And why should I care a whit about what you want?” Zachary asked, his tone growing colder.

“Because, as I understood it, despite your little jaunt into Oblivion, you still hold the same honor as House Veirasha is renowned for. That is not your land you taint and those are not your people, any more than I am one of the Merrodin’s that wronged you. To punish me for their crimes would scarcely be honorable,” she replied.

Zachary regarded her and seemed to consider her words. “To return the souls to you would be to return the guilty,” he said at last.

“I have no interest in those that started the war. I want the innocents of my land. I want those that simply followed their orders and had no say in it. I want the farmers and merchants that weren’t even a part of the war. Keep those you deem guilty, I don’t care about the fate of their souls. I will have the rest though if I have to take them by force,” she said, her last words holding a warning that she sincerely didn’t think she could back up.

“Take them?” Zachary asked with amusement in his tone. “Do you realize the lands of Oblivion themselves will fight against you. From the moment you step into my lands, the fog will begin to destroy you. First your clothes and then your body itself,” he explained.

“Well then I suppose when I show up at your castle I will most likely be naked and in a very foul mood,” she said unwavering.

Jin burst into muffled laughter beside her and lifted his drink in salute. “I like her,” he told the assembled lords before taking a deep swallow from the glass.

Zachary was watching her and she refrained from looking over to any of the other lords, sensing that she needed to hold his gaze until he looked away first. “Even if I release them, Death will never let you have them,” Zachary warned her. “She is a greedy creature and she has waited a very long time for the souls of Merro.”

“But there is a chance we can bargain with her,” a new voice broke in from across the room and Jala had to fight to keep her eyes on Zach’s. She knew that voice. She had heard it once before in Bliss. With a bit of a flourish, Fortune bowed to the assembled lords and dropped down into the empty chair beside Jala.

“Bargain with what?” Arjuna asked, his tone suspicious.

“I’m not sure that I care much for the idea of bargaining with Death. She is a tricky creature,” Lord Faydwer objected mildly.

“Death is no friend of Oblivion. I doubt she will be willing to bargain with me in the room,” Zachary said cautiously.

“If I must make a bargain with Death to get my people back, then so be it,” Jala said firmly, her gaze finally free of Zachary now that he was watching Fortune.

“I will offer her the souls of all of the creatures infesting Gaelyn,” Symphony said with a smile.

“You cannot pay me with my own coin,” the voice was a whisper filled with ice. It seemed to emanate from the shadows themselves. “You will kill those creatures without a bargain with me and their souls will be mine.”

“Not if we feed them to the Soul Reavers,” Lord Han’shy added wryly.

“Do not threaten me,” the whisper rose to a snarl and a few of the assembled lords gave Jin dark looks. “What would you bargain with, girl?” The whisperer asked again and the shadows nearest her end of the table began to coalesce into a solid form. Jala watched with what she hoped was a neutral expression as the ragged form of a cloaked woman took shape barely three feet from her.

“I will end the curse on Goswin,” she said boldly, the words out of her mouth before she could fully consider what she was saying. Silence seemed to blanket the room and even Death herself stopped in shock. “Will that suffice?” Jala asked, keeping her tone bold while she mentally kicked herself for making the offer.

“That will suffice,” Death agreed, her tone lighter with a bit of amazement in it.

“Then it’s settled. When I break the curse on Goswin, Lord Oblivion shall release my people, and you will not gather their souls,” Jala said, her tone firm.

“Agreed,” Death said with a dip of her cloaked head. Her gaze seemed to travel past Jala for a moment and lingered on Finn. Wordlessly, she dipped her head again and vanished back into the shadows.

Jala turned in her chair and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Why did Death just nod to you?” she asked warily.

“She did?” Finn asked and shrugged. “Creepy. I will have to be more careful in my next duel.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned back to the assembled lords making a mental note to hound him about it later. “Well then, if Lord Zachary is in agreement with the bargain then that matter is settled.”

Zachary gave an amused snort. “You raise the curse on Goswin, girl and I’ll help you resurrect your fallen myself.”

“I’ll hold you to that, boy,” she replied emphasizing the word boy as much as he had girl.

Jin gave another snort of laughter and nodded. “Oh, I really like her,” he repeated and looked to Symphony. “Now down to the serious business of convincing Lord Arovan and Lord Delvayon that we can manage a bloodless revolution,” he said and the conversation rapidly moved to politics and councils.

Leaning back in her seat, Jala sipped on her glass and listened with half an ear. Her mind was wrapped around the prospect of removing a curse that had existed for decades and why Death had nodded to Finn. Absently, she let her hand drop to Marrow’s neck and ran her fingers through the hick fur around his neck. Looking over to Fortune she found him smiling at her. With a wink he leaned over closer. “It’s not just me that supports you Jala, consider the symbols on the Temple at Bliss.”

“Luck, Love, and Healing,” she said in a quiet voice and glanced over her shoulder toward Finn once more. Realization dawned on her at how much the Aspects had helped her already. A Soul Bond was a rare thing, usually found only in stories. To be able to heal Finn from the wounds he had received in Rivana was impossible from what Jail had said. “Thank you, Fortune, and thank the others for me as well. I had no idea they watched over me too.”

“And we will watch you break the curse as well, Jala,” Fortune assured her. “We have faith in you as much as you do in us. Now pay attention to Symphony. You will need to know all of this very soon I fear.” He faded from the table and Jala turned her full attention to the discussion at hand. If Fortune believed she would need to know this soon, then she would give it her full attention. It would seem that soon her life was going to grow very complicated.

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Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32