Chapter One

All his life, people misjudged him.

They called him dim-witted as a child, too angry as a young man, then whispered behind his back, where they thought he couldn't hear, of thickheadedness thereafter. Only fit to do the dirty work of back alley brawls and thievery. With a wide, iron jaw, pointed ears that yes, did help him hear better, and two bottom cuspids sharp enough that he cut his tongue on them as he grew, he seemed more feral than man to most—and they had no problems telling him so. Born to a single mother, he took much more after the father he never knew-though due to death or abandonment or some other reason, his mother never did tell. His mother had affectionately called the cuspids his wolfteeth, making him wonder often about his father. He could still feel the scars along the sides of his tongue whenever he spoke. Over the years, he'd learned to do plenty with that tongue-how to get himself into and out of trouble; how to change his accent, and eventually, his language when he wanted; how to make a woman squirm and shudder. Most of those hadn't come until he was older, until after he'd found his mother's body, the smile still splitting her face from chasing her final dreamwine fantasy.

Not that anyone ever asked Marcus about his past, and he was content to let it stay buried with that worn velour chair of hers he broke apart and burned years ago.

He should have guessed she'd be the one to break that unspoken custom.

She started on the cable car from Summit Station to its sister Alexandria one. The Alexandrian princess took the seat parallel to him, across a small aisle in the pulley car and he could tell she was curious about him. She had been since they made their limping escape from Alexandria castle those few months ago. She was his younger by a few years, but held herself as much older-especially now, since he had last seen her on the Prima Vista.

She also felt guilty; he watched the constant slow entwining and unfolding of her fingers. He knew she felt it was her fault, what happened to Blank, and he supposed some of it was. Mostly though, it was her goddamn knight's fault-that and the poor aim of that little black mage kid. Had the knight not been involved or the kid a better shot with his fire spells, Tantalus would have made no waves when they finished 'I Want to Be Your Canary' and left for Lindblum. Would have left none the wiser until long after they were gone.

Marcus frowned a bit. None of that had happened and now Blank was petrified in that damn forest. He shifted his head just slightly to glare at the Pluto Knight Captain sitting in the set of seats just up from his princess. Fool of a man didn't know when to keep his mouth shut or when to play a part. Marcus's gaze slid over to the princess herself, who really didn't look like a princess at all anymore. She wore plain orange overalls and a white tunic and bodice that didn't call undue attention. Marcus probably stood out more himself with the pair of tattoo lines running down his arms-which he also caught her staring at, more than once.

Let her stare—he hadn't decided if he cared enough to be more than politely ambivalent toward her after hearing she ditched Zidane the first chance she got in Lindblum. But, princess knew how to play a part, that was for sure. If he was being honest, she was far better than Ruby-but he knew better than to say that out loud. Yet, for all the trouble she and hers had caused, Marcus couldn't quite banish the memory of how she felt when she fell into his arms as the improvised 'Cornelia'.

"Marcus?" she said suddenly, breaking his thoughts, her eyes on him. He lifted his chin to look at her directly. "Um... If I might ask-" She lowered her eyes, then raised them to him again. "I mean, your tattoos."

A dark eyebrow lifted beneath his red bandana. "What about them?" All at once, as he answered her, his voice sounded too deep to his ears. Too grated and rumbling. His shoulders felt too broad and his chest too wide; he imagined her slim form would get lost in them.

She blushed and wavered that line between confident and not knowing quite what to say. Finally, she gave in. "What's the story behind them?"

A wry smile twisted the corner of his mouth. The lie came easily. "Nothing special, trust me." He shrugged to her skeptical look, shoulders rolling beneath his sleeveless tunic. Her eyes followed. "I liked the design, so I got them."

"Did it hurt?"

The loyalty in him growled not to answer her, to let her think what she would—she did drop Zidane as soon as he got her to Lindblum, after all. Soon as he stopped being useful to her. Why give her more, that growl argued, when you're just another tool for her? He pushed the thought away—he never let his knee-jerk reactions throw their weight around for long—and drew in a breath through his nose. He smelled mint tinged with something sweet he didn't recognize. She wasn't using them, he told himself, she was only trying to do what she thought would help. Zidane was part of his Tantalus family, yes, but he was also a fool. Marcus had lost count years ago how many times he wanted to cuff the tow-headed thief upside the head for the unnecessary situations he'd tangle around himself.

There was no harm in talking with her, after all. It was just conversation.

"Well, someone taps a needle that's been dipped in ink into your skin for a couple of hours. Honestly, I stopped feeling after the first," he added, at her wince. Not that she seemed squeamish, but Marcus didn't like the idea of making any woman uncomfortable. What he told her was mostly the truth, besides, until the tattooist got to his hands and knuckles. He waited for the inevitable, 'Why would anyone want to sit through pain like that?', but it never came, and that surprised him. She seemed to accept his answer, and fell into silent thought. It was just as well, he decided, and looked away.

Her knight, Steiner, watched him—a leashed hunting dog straining to be loosed on prey. Regardless that he had done nothing to harm, endanger, or even insult the princess, Marcus knew Steiner viewed his very presence as a threat. He ignored the Pluto Captain. Let him think or suspect what he wanted—Marcus' main concern right now was getting to Treno and the supersoft, and then getting to Blank. He had no time for inquisitive princesses sitting on a tram with him, nor for assuaging the unfounded fears of her keeper.

A few minutes later, she spoke again, when Marcus had his eyes focused out the window at the scrolling mountainside.

"I—I'm really sorry about your friend. Your... bro." He dragged his eyes from the window only to find she had cast hers down to her lap and fiddling fingers.

A thousand things ran through Marcus's head, from bitter accusations to softened reassurances. "Blank knew there'd be danger. And I'm pretty sure this stuff will cure him, once we find it. He didn't go in blind-sighted." Like Zidane, he wanted to add, but held his tongue.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and he was struck by how warm of an amber they really were. It was no wonder Zidane was enthralled by her so quickly—but then, Zidane was enthralled by most pretty girls quickly. Still, Marcus found the next thought that had been in his mind was fled. Don't be a fool, he told himself, and wet his lips as her face softened.

"I guess..." she began, subdued, but then a light flared within her eyes, an august thread braiding through her voice and into the bones of her jaw. "However, it still doesn't make it right. I will do everything I can to help."

"While I appreciate the sentiment," he intoned intentionally, leaning back into the seat to rest one arm across the top of it, "no thanks. We'll be fine on our own." He doubted a princess and a loud knight with too many scruples could be much help in a thieving endeavor.

The corners of her mouth tightened at the clip of his voice, the way his chest rebuffed her offer. "Well, I will try, regardless. I'm certainly not useless in a conflict now, you should know, if that is what you're worried about."

Marcus turned his jawline to her, eyes out the window again. "You can do what you want, Princess. You will, anyway. But you should be careful with your involvement in certain operations while in Treno."

Steiner was halfway out of his seat in anger. "Did you just threaten the Princess, you brigand?"

Marcus laughed once, softly, wolfteeth smooth against the inside curve of his lip. "Don't be a fool. I'm just warning her to be mindful of her reputation. Treno isn't called 'the Dark City' for irony's sake."

Dagger put a quiet hand on Steiner's arm and he settled back into his seat, though his eyes never left Marcus.

"You know, for someone of your... ah, skill-set and background," she began, "you certainly are well-mannered and well-spoken."

Marcus snorted. "What, did you think all Tantalus was made up of ruffians and idiots? I know you spent a lot of time around Zidane, but don't let him color your opinion of the rest of us." Why should he care so much about what she thought of him?

Before she could interject, before he could check that old knee-jerk defense from throwing its weight around, the words came tumbling from his mouth. "Besides, I have performed in prominent plays, you know. I've acted in Treno more than a couple of times—in lead roles. And you've got to understand the part if you want to give the character justice."

She didn't have to know those high-profile performances in Treno were covers for some of the most profitable operations Tantalus pulled off. Nor did he have to mention to her all the older plays deemed too archaic in speech to perform he had devoured time and again in his free time simply because he loved the flow of the language so much. He didn't have to tell her he hated the idea of being just more muscle with no brain to back it up. He regretted saying anything at all the moment he finished speaking, but he could do nothing about it now. He stared holes into the seat in front of him, irritated at himself that she had started to worm beneath his skin so quickly.

Out of his peripheral, he saw her study him intently, curiously.

"You really aren't what you seem, are you?" she asked quietly after a long moment.

Marcus hesitated, and never got the chance to reply as the cable car came to a jolting stop, nearly throwing them from their seats.

"What's going on?" Steiner demanded, jumping out of his seat in tandem with Marcus and Dagger.

She slid her lithe frame past him and ran the few steps to the car conductor.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Probably just an obstruction—please return to your seat while I remove it and get us moving again," The conductor instructed her. She didn't move as he went outside—something didn't feel right to Marcus and he remained standing as well. They weren't waiting long before the conductor came running back inside the car, eyes wide and short of breath.

"Are you all right?" Dagger instantly asked, her hand straying for the long racket leaning in the weapons' compartment next to the conductor's chair.

"I—I don't know!" the conductor stammered. "There's something on the tracks!"

Dagger exchanged a look with Steiner before giving him a nod that held an entire conversation within it. They spared Marcus no such glance, but he was already moving toward the door—neither he nor Steiner had stored their weapons in the compartment and so did not need to pause to retrieve them. The Pluto Captain pushed in front of him to be the first out—couldn't let his precious princess endanger herself and couldn't trust the brigand—with the two of them close behind. Once out of the cable car, only a mild breeze greeted them and disturbed the air. Dagger jogged ahead of them, rounded to the front of the car first.

Looking around with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, Marcus saw nothing but rocky, scrubby slopes. He fell in behind Steiner. A sudden swift wind howled along the length of the stopped car, and Marcus breathed deep as it blew against his face; he twisted around, looking to the front of the car where Dagger had gone, his sharp nose sifting out something very strange on the wind.

"Over here!" Dagger shouted right after he caught the scent. Steiner surged into clanking motion only a few steps behind the Tantalus rogue.

Drawing his wide falcata sword and rounding the front of the car, Marcus sucked in a breath when he saw what Dagger faced.

"Sonuvabitch of a black mage," he swore under his breath. Around the cool grip of his sword, his fingers tightened until they hurt. The thing before them was unlike any other black mage Marcus had ever seen—tall and slim, with gleaming eyes as bright as the sun that twisted a rope of fear taught through his gut.

"Princess!" Steiner called, sword drawn and next to Marcus.

"Steiner—I think this is the same one we saw on the cargo ship," Dagger told him, long racket in her hands.

Marcus's eyes flashed to Steiner, who looked from Dagger to the black mage. "Yes, I think you're right. But I thought it had been destroyed...?"

Giving the mage a second look, Marcus saw beyond his terrified impression—something was wrong with it. It shuddered and the impressive wings that spread out behind it were bent at odd angles, missing feathers in several places. Dagger shouted at it, her fingers angry and white around her racket.

"Tell me something! Why do you want to capture me?"

Steiner ran up to her, though Marcus hung back a few breaths before following in his wake. "Princess!" The knight put himself between Dagger and the black mage. "It's too dangerous—please stand back!"

A sporadic tremor went through the black mage and it sparked. "Mission... retrieve... princess... alive..." was all it seemed able to repeat. Determined, Dagger pushed around Steiner.

"Why? What do you want with me? Who sent you on this mission?" Marcus could see Dagger's hands shaking, and his fingers flexed along the hilt of his sword.

"I don't think you'll get much more of an answer—it doesn't understand what you're asking," he told her, another arc of electricity running between the mage's wings.

"Mission... retrieve..." it said again, lurching toward them.

"But—" Dagger began to protest, but a shrill noise cut through the air and stopped her words short as Marcus gritted his teeth against the sound.

"Eliminate... all!" it shrieked at them, its voice closer to metal scraping harsh against metal than any human sound.

Marcus knew Steiner was a decent enough fighter; the bulk of the military force in Alexandria may have been made up of women, but that didn't make Steiner, the Captain of the Knights of Pluto, take his job any less seriously just because he was in the minority. The knight darted in front of Dagger with a speed and grace Marcus wished he exhibited outside of battle to swing a heavy-handed blow, effectively interrupting the broken mage's charge. It reeled back, throwing off sparks in the face of Steiner's glare.

"Stand back, Princess!" he yelled over his shoulder. "The knave and I shall handle this fiend!"

Marcus didn't take his eyes from the mage as he moved forward, joining Steiner to flank Dagger protectively a step behind them both. "Perhaps don't insult me at the same time you want my help," he grated, absently correcting his stance and reversing the grip on his falcata. Adrenaline flooded through him, and scattered the fear that had threatened to fill him up. Steiner's broadsword took a chunk out of the mage's side with another cleaving swing, giving Marcus an opportunity while it recovered to lunge forward. He swept his blade up, knocking it even more off balance as the thick, deft fingers of his off-hand found a cool, thin metal rod hanging off the heavy belt that it wore.

Marcus leapt nimbly out of the reach of a blow from the mage's stave, flanking Dagger once more and slipping the rod through the back of his belt to look over later. Allowing himself a moment to slide his eyes over to her, he said, "But, in this instance, I think I might have to agree with your knight. Too risky for you to get hurt." From the corner of his eye, he saw the malfunctioning black mage as it reeled from one of Steiner's attacks. Man didn't fool around in battle—Marcus could appreciate that.

She cast him a quirking grin, in on some secret of which he was unaware. Her long racket swung over her head and Marcus felt a thin, tingling layer settle over him. He cast a glance back to her.

"A mage, huh?" he remarked, feeling as though he should have known somehow. He saw the shift of surprise change her face too late while his attention was diverted from the battle.

"Watch out!" Dagger shouted to no avail as he was caught by a charging attack from the black mage.

He whirled but couldn't dodge the blow, so instead continued to turn and take the brunt of the onslaught with his shoulder. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet, and Marcus swallowed the gratitude it had only been from a stave and not a blade.

"Are you all right?" Dagger asked, a hitch catching her voice with worry.

He grimaced and straightened, rolling his shoulder and shaking the pain off while Steiner parried the black mage into distraction. "Just a bruise," he told her, retaking his stance and turning his eyes back to the fight, hoping that wasn't a lie. Time enough after to sort it out.

Along his peripheral, he saw a silvery light encompass Steiner, who made no motion save a nod of thanks to Dagger. She certainly was telling the truth about her abilities.

The black mage fumbled over its own robes and Marcus took the opening to barrel into the mage with his good shoulder, flipping his grip on the falcata to thrust down and into the sparking torso. A jolt went through his fingertips and up his arm. Pulling back on his sword, he quickly found there was no prying it free.

"Damn it!" he cursed, the sharp bridge of his nose furrowing. He tried to lever the blade loose, but only succeeded in raising another volt that danced up his arm, raising the hairs along his skin. The black mage tried to shove him aside, and Marcus leaned into it on instinct; it couldn't gain any more ground against his bulk. Marcus threw an edged look back at Steiner. "Hit it now! It's stuck on my sword and I won't be able to hold it for long!"

The knight hesitated just a moment, and Marcus snarled at him, a third arc of electricity snaking beneath his skin. If that damn knight didn't move soon and those shocks kept getting stronger, he'd be worse off than a rod in a storm. Better hold out as long as he could. Teeth ground tight enough to make his head hurt and imaging his boots grew roots that clutched into the clay and rock, Marcus pressed his weight into twisting his falcata deeper into the failing machinery. The mage beneath him bucked and let out a piercing metallic shriek; through the flashing barbs arcing again from nerve to nerve in his arms, Marcus wondered if it felt pain as he did, or if its various gears and cogs were just malfunctioning beyond repair now.

"Dammit, knight, now!" he snarled through his teeth.

Steiner, whether having heard him or not, burst forward at what felt to Marcus was the last viable moment before his fingers refused to keep hold of his sword. The knight ran out beyond the edge of his line of sight, and Marcus hoped he was taking the opportunity to flank the incapacitated mage. Distantly, the blood-iron smell of the air after a lightning strike coiled through his nose, followed by a sickly sweet burning that he had to fight from turning his stomach. Acutely aware of every bone and tiny fracture and taught ligament in his hands and forearms, Marcus blinked away purple and black spots from his eyes. He couldn't let go. He had to hold on.

"Just... a little..." he gasped to the burning suns where the black mage's eyes should have been. They bore a hole into his head and blackened his vision like a sunspot.

He heard Dagger shout something from far away, and he couldn't quite find the strength he needed to strain for the words. His hands started to slacken, but a hot warning went off in his memory and he grasped for the hilt again. Small charges of electricity spiderwebbed up his arms, following, Marcus decided, the lines of his tattoos. Hold on, those burning words told him. Hold on. Marcus clenched his jaw and willed his fingers to obey.

Let go!

Eyes closed tightly against the shaking and flashes of light before him, a guttural sound vibrated his throat. No—he had to hold on. He couldn't let go, tried to remember why.

Let go, Marcus!

"... can't..."

A cool hand slid like pouring water onto his shoulder, far too hot in comparison, stilling everything in his world after so many tremors. Muscles there twitched of their own accord beneath her fingers.

"Marcus." Dagger's voice drifted like sweet smoke through a pipe. Did he make a noise in response? "I need you to let go of your sword. I can't heal you until you do." Her voice was soft and light as gossamer in his ears. "Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, like prying open a clam shell, Marcus's eyes opened, focused on the arms, the hands clenched around the hilt of a falcata for an instant before he remembered they were his. His head cleared and his vision stopped shaking. Dark root-like markings snaked up his forearms and covered his hands, made something in his gut drop. Throat feeling burned and raw, Marcus tried to swallow and withdrew his hands, watching them shake with a vibration from outside his body, his palms tingling with a strange hum across the rough skin. Before him, he saw the still-sparking remains of the black mage fall to the ground with his falcata impaled on it, and he distantly realized he'd been the only thing holding it up.

"Okay, good," Dagger said, slipping her hand off his shoulder to come around between him and the black mage. She looked at his face a moment, then down at his arms, touching his knuckles. "You're going to be okay," was all she said, then closed her eyes and moved her other hand to match the first now hovering close to his skin.

"What were you thinking, holding on like that?" Steiner scolded from somewhere behind him. "You could have been killed or—"

"Steiner!" Dagger snapped, small wrinkles creasing at the top of her nose. "I need to concentrate, please. He's badly hurt."

The knight fell silent. Dagger drew in a smooth breath, and Marcus could almost see her will her mind into quiet. When she exhaled softly, a cool green light spread from beneath her fingertips onto his arms. He felt the coolness wind up his muscles like a ribbon, wrapping behind his eyes and tasting almost of mint on his tongue. His head felt right again as the cool tendrils retracted back down to his arms. The burnt scars left there from several arcs of shock faded from the top first, and he watched in fascination. It was as if a weed had taken root beneath his skin and she was now drawing it up and out. The heat twined with the scars was pulled away along with the rest as she worked, and Marcus's heart roared in his chest like a bear in a cage.

When she got to his wrists, it looked as if the roots tangled with one another, catching on his veins and bones and refusing to let go. The heat built up again; beads of sweat dotted his temple. Shallow lines across her brow deepened and she paused to scrape her teeth along her lip before taking both his wrists in her hands.

The light brightened and the green press of her fingers soothed his skin for as far around as they could wrap, unable to encompass the whole of his wristbones. The heat flared, fighting against the cool. Marcus briefly clenched his jaw and held himself still.

He could not say how long they sat, he with his spine curved and stiffening, she bent with her hair falling over her shoulder, nearly brushing their hands. Steiner shifted around in his armor behind Marcus, but the sounds were distant, unimportant.

In tandem with a sharp hiss of breath through his wolfteeth, Dagger sat up, moving her hands away and drawing the last of the roots and heat out of his skin. The green light dissipated into tiny particles until those were eaten by the air.

Marcus tested his hands, balling them into fists and releasing them, turned his wrists and flexed the tendons in his arms, rolled his wounded shoulder without a twinge of pain. He looked up to find Dagger watching him.

"Thank you," he said, getting to his feet, trying his balance and pleased to find it intact. "I've never seen something like that done before." He didn't try to keep the mild awe from his words.

Leaning past the light blush rising on her face to where the black mage lie motionless on the ground, Marcus ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword, still imbedded, still warm to the touch. Once he got to Treno, he would have to pay a visit to the weapons shop to get the edge sharpened. He would do what he could on the road, but there was only so much he could do with a small whetstone. It would especially need tending after this battle. He tugged on it to pull the blade free and winced at the harsh scrape of metal against metal, but his effort yielded no success.

Muttering a soft curse, he tugged harder, to no better avail. It finally took bracing a boot against the mage's torso and yanking back to free it, small friction sparks leaping from the edge as he did so.

"Damn!" he said, catching his balance again nimbly, a step back from the mage.

Lowering the falcata in front of himself and resting the flat of it against his palm, he inspected the damage done. All along the length of the blade, thin fingers of black burn marks stretched, mirroring the scars on his arms minutes ago. After fruitlessly attempting to wipe the black off, and hoping the integrity of the steel wasn't compromised by the damage, Marcus had no choice but to simply sheath it.

Turning his attention back to the wreck that once was an intimidating black mage, Dagger came to her feet beside him, and Steiner to stand on his other side.

"Why...?" Dagger breathed, shaking her head. "Why...? What did it want with me?"

Steiner shifted and put his heavy gauntlet tenderly on her shoulder. "Princess..."

Never taking his eyes from the mechanical remains, his voice heavy and rough as gravel, Marcus said, "Burmecia was attacked by an army of black mage soldiers."

A gust of wind whistled through the pass in the cleft of silence his words left.

Then, with quiet resignation, Dagger said, "... I know."

Memories of plays performed in Burmecia's sweeping, gracefully-roofed amphitheater simply for the sake of performing, with no other motive backing them filled him. The vibrant beauty of all the house gardens and pools kept verdant and so very alive in all the rain always made Marcus defend the kingdom to anyone who sighed and named it dreary. His lungs drew in a deeper breath with no forethought, a hot anger rising from his belly.

"Those mages," he growled, "wiped out the people of Burmecia..." So many people who had come to him after a play, bringing a gift box of vegetables grown in their water gardens, or a handful of reed flowers, carefully made preserves, a kind word when they had nothing else to offer. So many kids he had seen pretending to be the characters from the plays Tantalus brought them, running through the cobbled streets and over low stone walls.

As Dagger remained silent, his hand clenched into a fist by his side. He wanted to smash was was left of this thrice-damned black mage until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.

Steiner's words cut through the air around them. "Who would do such a thing?"

A tight cord in Marcus threatened to snap, and he rounded his anger toward the knight, wolfteeth bared. "Are you serious? How ignorant can you be?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden fury facing him, Steiner's eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back. "What do you mean?"

Ready to snarl a venomous response, Marcus was stopped by Dagger's hand on his chest. She didn't press against him, but the gentle weight of her hand halted him in his tracks regardless.

"Stop it, Steiner..." She looked at neither of them, amber eyes focused instead through the rising smoke from the black mage. "I know who did it."

Steiner seemed no less surprised by her quiet words than by Marcus's angry outburst. "Princess?" The honorific was nearly a whisper.

His heart thudded beneath her hand so loudly, he was sure she could feel it before she drew her hand back. "We're almost in Alexandria," she said, curling her hand into herself and ignoring both of them. "I must go to the castle and see my mother. She'll listen to me."