"Why does – Anur!"

He looked up from the second book Etrius and Seras had pulled for him – a historical survey of Incendiaries past, last updated three Incendiaries ago. It was interesting to compare this to the older edition he'd had to leave in Sunhame, last updated after Reulan's death, because the older biographies had been clearly altered to suit the political agenda of the time, rather than accurately copied. It raised the question of where they'd found the older edition, because reading between the lines some of these Incendiaries had definitely had witch powers themselves, and a few had been in full on feuds with the Son of Sun of the day, and he was nearly certain the Incendiary of Reulan's day had been romantically involved with the Son of Sun – there were some very strong adjective choices describing the pair of them working together.

He smiled at Kir's exasperated expression. The underlying fondness told him he had nothing to worry about and the heavy robes Kir only wore on some High Holy Days draped over his arm gave Anur a good idea of what Kir was talking about. No need to admit to anything though.

"Did you put spice tea in my vestments?" Kir asked dryly, Anur affecting a thoughtful look before giving it up.

"You asked me to put them away a few moons ago and the cedar chips weren't scented anymore. Spice tea smells better," Anur sniffed, Kir tossing the heavy crimson robe over him and he spluttered, managing to shut the book before spice tea dust rained on the pages. Pulling the robe off his face he smiled sheepishly, "Okay, so I could have wrapped it better. Why were you looking for these anyway? The equinox isn't usually enough for you to pull these out."

"Jaina pointed out the formal vestments I've used since my ordaining might not suffice for Sunhame," Kir grimaced, "And if they need replacing or modifications I'll need to put in the order the next time we're in Sunhame."

"Ah. Well, spice tea dust aside, how are they otherwise?" Anur asked, holding up the heavy fabric and trying to determine quality. It was a fairly fine weave, held dye well if these had been Kir's since his ordination, but as there wasn't any gold trim they'd need to make some changes anyway, and some of the hems were a little uneven – actually, by the small holes -

"How many times did you have to let these out?"Anur asked, bemused as he examined the highest set of removed stitches. "Hells, how much extra fabric did you tuck into the hems to begin with?"

"Two handspans," Kir replied, and Anur looked at the current hem, raising an eyebrow. There as maybe a palm's width of fabric left in the hem. Standing up, he held the robes against Kir's shoulders, his brother just smiling ruefully as he thought it through.

"You grew nearly a head taller after your ordaining," Anur said, feeling slightly faint because while sixteen was the age of majority, while he had gone on his internship at sixteen, imagining Kir trying to manage a chaplain posting when he hadn't even had his last major growth spurt yet, "Sweet stars, getting their respect must have been a nightmare."

"In that sense the Order's reputation worked in my favor," Kir allowed, "But it was a constant struggle those first few years, yes."

Anur's expression must have reflected the horror he felt welling up at that idea, Kir's own expression softening and he pulled him close so their brows pressed against each other, saying, "Anur, I'm fine. It was years ago, and I managed."

"You shouldn't have had to," Anur muttered, hugging the damning robe to his chest, "It shouldn't have been necessary."

"And it won't be for Rodri," Kir replied calmly, "It won't be for Maltin, or Etrius – no one else will need to convince a tailor that allowing for growth is worthwhile."

It took a few moments for Anur to realize what Kir was implying and by the time his sheer rage had subsided Kir had pulled him into a proper hug, muttering apologetic reassurances.

"Kir, don't apologize," he ground out before giving up on words and switching to mindspeech. :Don't you dare apologize. You're not the one who – the fabric isn't that high quality! Assuming you'd die before you finished growing -:

:It's entirely possible the tailor assumed I wouldn't grow much more, or that I would be recalled to Sunhame and get a replacement then,: Kir pointed out, Anur thinking that over before scoffing.

:You don't actually believe that,: he said, pulling back to meet Kir's eyes.

Kir smiled wryly, admitting aloud, "No, of course not. But it got you to calm down. It's in the past, Anur. There are much bigger things to concern ourselves with. Now, will you hand over my vestments so I can actually inspect them?"

"Sorry about the tea dust," Anur said, passing the vestments back to Kir, who just raised an eyebrow and shook them pointedly, a cloud of fine dust billowing off them and smelling exactly like spice-tea.

"If I wash these, I'll get wool flavored tea," Kir said dryly. "Next time you decide to make my vestments smell nice, pick something stored in proper sachets, will you?"

Anur rubbed the back of his neck as he sat down, giving Kir one last sheepish smile before hiding behind his book. At least the Incendiary that he suspected was Herald Mage Vanyel's contemporary was entertaining to read about, he didn't have to work too hard to fake total absorption in the book.

Kir just snorted and sat in his own chair by the hearth. No fire yet, Kir would probably light it when it came time for the Sun Descending service. After spending the day drying and storing the sage and assorted herbs they'd helped gather over the last two days there hadn't been much for them to do for the unit itself, giving them some marks for their own tasks.

Anur had already updated his chronicle, checked all his weapons, repaired some broken chainmail and started a reply to Asher, so he didn't feel at all guilty about spending some time with his book. Besides, undoubtedly Myste would be interested in anything he remembered from it come Midsummer.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kiara opened her door to find Lukas mid-knock, and she rolled her eyes at his sheepish look.

"Not busy, I hope, little sister?" he asked, Kiara scoffing and stepping aside to let him into her home. The houses were tiered into the hills around their little inlet and she had rented this sub-level the moment she could afford it, knowing the landlady's family and also knowing that if she lived with her mother and grandmother a day longer she'd go mad.

"Like I could be," she said, waving him to a seat as she set out another mug for tea, "I just got in this morning, Lukas, what has you so anxious?"

"Have you heard back?" he asked, sitting in the more comfortable of her two chairs – it had taken months of visits and stubbornness to get him to take it when he stopped by, but now he didn't even try to argue.

Kiara busied herself with tea, needing the few moments to compose herself because she had, she had heard back weeks ago, and the letter in question was tucked into her almanac and she didn't know what to say. She hadn't known what to say when she got the letter, she hadn't even been able to think of a reply she could send off without telling her family, and now here she was, actually seriously contemplating lying to her oldest brother. Her oldest brother, she had two now -

"You have," Lukas breathed, suddenly beside her, good hand on her elbow and she couldn't meet his gaze, "Kiara you have what – what is it, is - " Lukas swallowed thickly, "Did we miss him by so little?"

"No, no, Lukas, it's not that," she assured him, leaving the mugs to grab his shoulders, meeting his gaze and wanting to cry herself when she saw the tears in his eyes, "Not that, Lukas, I just – I didn't know what to say."

"Let me read it," he whispered, "Kiara – Ki. Please. Let me read it."

"You'd best sit down," she warned, ushering him back to his seat before she went for her few texts, digging the letter out and hesitating, only handing it over at Lukas' impatient gesture.

He unfolded the letter slowly, and she only watched long enough to see the heart-broken wonder appear in his eyes before she turned back to the tea she was making, pouring steaming water over mint and lavender. By the time she put the kettle back on the stove, turning to set Lukas' mug on the small table beside him, her brother was smiling through tears.

"He's alive," Lukas whispered, running stiff and twisted fingers across the text, "Kiara, he's alive why – why didn't you say anything?"

"He's a Firestarter, Lukas," Kiara said quietly, "What is Elisia going to do?"

"Our baby brother is alive," Lukas said, joy shifting to something fierce, "She's going to be happy."

"Saying that does not make it true," Kiara snapped, "Elisia hates Firestarters, Lukas! She hates them, and it's not just because Kir was taken! Him being one of them isn't going to change that!"

"He's alive," Lukas repeated faintly, staring again at the letter in his hand, "Kiara we can't – we can't not reach out."

"And I agree," Kiara said tiredly, sitting down across from him and rubbing her face with one hand, "I agree, Lukas but we have to be careful about it. He's verging on indifference, his Enforcer sounds like he'd rip Elisia's throat out with his teeth the moment she stared with anything less than welcome and – and this could tear us apart, Lukas."

"If finding out that one of ours – that our brother is alive – could tear us apart, we don't deserve to call ourselves a family," Lukas said, tone ugly and Kiara snarled at him.

"Oh, yes, let's tear everything apart just so you can see your brother again, forget your sisters, forget your nephews, your mother and grandmother all that matters is you and you wanting to see someone that we've all been treating as good as dead!"

"It's worth it!" Lukas spat back, Kiara meeting his glare with her own and waiting.

It didn't take long for Lukas to crumple, curling in on himself and weeping, both hands shaking as he murmured, "I don't mean that – I don't – I might. Kiara what are we going to do?"

She didn't know, but it looked like she'd have to be the one to figure it out.

"I'll write back," she finally said, "I'll write back, and ask to meet him. I can get some cargo to take me to Sunhame easily enough, the demand to take those routes has dropped off to not be quite so competitive lately and I'm owed a few favors besides. So I'll write back, and if we can meet – I'll discuss it with him. He deserves to know what he'd be walking back into before deciding."

"Can I go with you?"

"No, not if we're trying to do this without telling anyone else what's going on until Kir has made his own choice," she said bluntly before softening at Lukas' devastated expression, knuckles going white around the letter. "I'll carry a message for you, if you like. Give you time to write it. And if for some reason he decides not to return – I'll get you to Sunhame then."

"Thank you," Lukas gasped, tears running down his face again as he stared at the letter, "Ki – little sister, thank you. You are the best of us."

"Hmm. You say that now, but I suspect that will change," she sniffed, smiling slightly nonetheless, "Drink your tea, and stop dripping over the letter."

She spent the rest of the afternoon with her brother, trying to shore him up again and by the time he left there was no evidence he'd ever been crying, and little evidence that anything more dramatic than their usual visits had occurred. She then gave herself a mark to focus on something, anything, else before sitting down with slate and chalk to start drafting this letter.

At least now, her letter had a goal.

To Kir Dinesh,

I have never had the pleasure of meeting you, but knowing that it is possible to know my other brother before we reach the judging is incredible. I believe I've heard stories of you and your Enforcer both – Oathbreakers and fires in the Comb, and I would guess those rumors of old monsters being thwarted in the northeast had something to do with you as well?

Should you wish, I would like to meet you in person. There are occasional trade-runs to Sunhame, are there particular times you will likely be in the city? Your sworn brother is, of course, included in this.

Vkandis bless and guide,

Kiara Dinesh

***===***pagebreak***===***

She usually wasn't one to hum as she worked, Jaina mused, setting the basket of missives and paperwork intended for the Firestarter Corps on her desk, but here she was, humming to the same tune Maltin had been playing in the courtyard this morning. His illusions had nearly pulled Laskaris under a few days ago, but there was still something of a disconnect between the actual flames and his music. He had time to figure out the details though, and Kavrick was in no hurry to see him ordained so she wasn't concerned.

Muttering her way through the passage that served as her key-phrase, she ran a finger along the ties sealing the basket shut and smiled when the cord unwound at her touch, traps subsiding until the next time this basket was sealed. Kir had never bothered to remove her seal from the logs, seeing as he had no intention of remaining in Sunhame long term, so she still had access to all the information funneled into the Order using official means.

Aside from the occasional packet sealed with Her Eminence's signature – those were directed to Kir and Kir alone, undoubtedly referencing some as yet unannounced reform or making explicit mention of Bellamy's witch-power.

She winced, remembering Laskaris' closed door rant with Seras and her as the audience. Lumira's congretation was good for him, forced him to interact with people outside the Corps, but he was so unyielding in his beliefs - it made his study of coercion webs somewhat natural, as he was one of the rare few who could immediately recognize when someone tried to alter his stance, but it made any adjustment an ordeal and they'd been subjected to a flood of them.

If she could come up with a way to make the request without parts of it coming across as an accusation, she'd ask them to at least publicize Bellamy's witch-power within the Order. Half the problem was that while priests certainly had witch-powers, they weren't trained or treated or even acknwoledged as such, so while she could name at least ten priests who had witch powers off hand, convincing Laskaris that those were, in fact, the same abilities as those that were condemned would be next to impossible without a demonstration of something impossible to replicate by magecraft.

And talking anyone outside their Order into such a demonstration was another matter all together.

She shook her head, opening the first request of the stack and snorting before setting it aside to burn later. This again - every year after the first cold snap requests for Firestarters to warm cold meeting rooms flooded in. None of the buildings in the District were so poorly insulated as to require additional heat beyond the braziers already supplied, and Firestarters themselves were seldom able to provide heat without flame, Kir aside. No, these were pure power plays, trying to raise the status of whoever held the meeting by showing they had Firestarters on call for their comfort and convenience.

Though she had been tempted to send Colbern to a few of the more insistent ones. See them request a Firestarter for their power plays again!

Ha – perhaps instead, she should funnel one of the requests to Markov, should he ever return to Sunhame. Bellamy and he had apparently gotten on like a blood-mage on fire, so she wouldn't be surprised if he did return to Sunhame to scandalize anyone who looked at him too long.

Her smile faded as she remembered the source of most of that aghast horror - having it directed at someone not within their Order was a nice change, even if Bellamy and Kir seemed to relish in it, but coming from Valdemar...

Welcoming those who had fled made sense, they had fled in honest fear for their lives from a regime that was wrong and wicked, so it was only right that they be allowed to return home without consequences imposed on them from Sunhame. But there had been no mention of Markov returning to Karse permanently even after he finished arranging for the return of those who had fled, and more critically, there had been no condemnation of his apparent choice to return to Valdemar and remain there, in a land she had been raised to view as the dwelling of demons.

In a land that had welcomed the innocents that fled the flames she called.

Seras was already looking for caches in the main archives and in their own Hall texts with an eye to finding out more about their northern neighbors, because there were more reforms coming, there had to be for so much plotting to be going on between Kir and Her Eminence, and with Markov drawing the eye to Valdemar so very blatantly... there was really only one way that could go.

Not many would think of it, not unless they knew someone who had fled and was returning, or had knowledge of Kir and Bellamy's continued meetings and sealed correspondence with Solaris. Even with those clues, not many would think of it because they wouldn't have to – why borrow trouble, after all? But she had some ideas and she was desperately grateful she didn't have to lead the Order through it. Sorting mail and serving as Kir's Sunhame bound second was more than enough.

Reaching for the next packet, she frowned as she pulled out a single letter, sealed with simple wax and a thumb-print rather than any insignia. There wasn't a trace of magic on the thing and between that and the plain quality of the paper this was almost certainly from outside the District. Turning the letter over she felt her lips thin as she saw who it was addressed to.

This was Kir's sister then, replying to the letter he'd fair agonized over weeks ago. Had to be, she didn't recognize the hand and Kir only received notes from Axeli in the district itself, everyone else that wrote to him – and she knew very well he had a network of some sort, he had to as well informed as he was about Sunsguard units stationed the length and breadth of the country – didn't address them to Sunhame.

She didn't bother hesitating as she reached for a knife, heating it in her oil-wick lamp's flame. She could pretend, certainly, could act like this was a difficult decision for her to make, like her brother's privacy was more important to her than his emotional well-being, but there was no audience to influence and she knew her own mind. If this Kiara Dinesh wrote back and spat on him, the letter would be tragically lost and a ship would tragically sink sometime this winter. Storms, so sad.

Bellamy would agree with her, so even if Kir didn't she'd have influential back up.

Carefully lifting the seal, she pulled the letter out and skimmed it before reading it more thoroughly and setting it down. Not a terrible response, she decided, but still not enough for her to send on without making some arrangements of her own.

Replacing the letter and delicately reattaching the seal, she set it to one side and returned to sorting paperwork for a time. When she neared the end, she picked up the letter again and called quietly, "Kari?"

The Firecat appeared on the chair Bellamy usually used, head tilting to one side and she smiled, unable and unwilling to suppress the sheer wonder she felt at seeing Kari, at hearing his voice in her mind, clear as bells.

:Yes, Jaina?:

"This letter – it's from Kir's sister," Jaina said, the Cat jumping to stand on her desk and staring intently at the letter in question, "Could you bring it to him?"

:I believe I will check in with Anur to see if it's a good time, but yes, I can take it – and I'll bring any reply back here to be sent?:

"That would probably be the most timely result," she agreed, the letter vanishing in a curl of fire and she felt a giddy grin spread across her face though it quickly faded when Kari gave her a knowing look.

:And I'll just fail to mention the slightly smeared wax, shall I?:

He purred, mentally laughing as she scowled at him, and he butted his head against her arm, Jaina unable to remain displeased in face of that and scratching his head instead, rueful amusement coloring her voice.

"Why did I even try?"

:It is a noble sentiment, and had you not already I probably would have found someone to do the same so I could check it,: Kari's shoulders rolled in his approximation of a shrug, :I presume though, that it is reasonably good if you are sending it on?:

"It asks for a meeting, seems positive in tone," she confirmed, "But I'd rather be certain, so I'll be off to speak to Valerik shortly."

:Far be it for me to stop you. He's in the Hall Archive, pretending to work on his reports. I will probably stay with Kir after he receives the letter to help him through that, so keep Rodri from experimenting until tomorrow.:

"And here I thought he'd learned his lesson," Jaina sighed, rising to her feet and bowing slightly, "Thank you, Kari."

:You are most welcome, little sister,: Kari replied, disappearing in another wash of flame.

Basking for a moment in the faint warmth – in the fact she had just spoken to a Firecat - she then set out for the archive. Even without Kari's help, Valerik wouldn't be difficult to find at this hour, he'd only returned from his and Tristan's patrol a few days ago and it was too early for his usual bars to be exciting enough to attract him. He always spent those first days pretending to slave over the report he'd undoubtedly written on the road in the hopes an appearance of productivity would stop people from talking to him.

The fact that literally every Firestarter knew better than to speak to Valerik his first few days in Sunhame, especially after a route where he'd worked with Tristan, who he wanted to punch in the face on a good day, just meant it was a method guaranteed to work.

Unless, of course, Jaina had reason to interrupt and tacit approval of their Order's Firecat.

"Valerik," she said, striding up to his desk after checking the surrounding area was empty, "A word."

By the pinching around his eyes, he was biting back some very strong commentary and she mentally congratulated herself for training him to treat her with respect regardless of when she spoke to him. There was making allowances and there was catering, and she had no tolerance for the latter.

So instead of saying something he would undoubtedly regret, he waved her to the seat across from him and she took it, folding her hands on her lap and getting straight to the point.

"I am calling in a favor," she said, "When Kir next comes to Sunhame, you will be here, and you'll go to the bars near the docks to find out everything you can about the Captain of a ship called Sundancer."

"The captain's name?" Valerik asked, some of his tension easing at the thought of going to the bars he used as stress relief. She made a mental note to ensure Maltin's coming of age took place while Valerik was far away from Sunhame before answering.

"Kiara Dinesh."

That punched straight through Valerik's remaining mood, the older priest sitting back in surprise and asking carefully, "A relative?"

"A younger sister, if I read it right, one born after he was taken," she replied, "She offered to come to Sunhame to meet him, and if Kir takes her up on it I want to take full advantage of the chance."

"Hmm. No word on how the other family members are taking news of his survival?"

"None."

Valerik nodded shortly, "Understood, and agreed. Though you didn't have to call in a debt, Jaina. Had I caught wind of this visit myself I probably would have gone of my own will – and had the Eldest asked I would have gone happily."

"That's not the debt," Jaina replied, smiling slightly at Valerik's well-hidden wariness, "The debt is you not speaking a single word of this to Kir without my agreement."

"Ah. And if she should prove less than accommodating to her very near miraculously surviving brother?"

"I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out."