CHAPTER 8


"Oh you poor lamb!" Lanira exclaimed. Her hands fluttered to her chest as she turned around, surveying the damage in Idira's room. A faint tinkling broke the quiet. Lanira glanced at Unambi, who crouched by the broken glass from the window. He picked up a piece and set it into a bucket, careful of the other pieces protruding out of it, jagged and sharp. He met Lanira's look, expressionless, before returning to his work.

"Don't you worry," Lanira said, nodding, brusque, making up her mind. "The Master will make sure you won't do without. Toys and books can be replaced. What's important is you are safe." Lanira smiled at Idira, seeking to encourage her, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She surveyed the wreckage scattered across the room, a shred of doubt flitting across her face before she could hide it.

Idira said nothing. She understood. The house was badly damaged, and now VanCleef was not only in a fight with Stormwind but with Papa, too. There wasn't going to be any time for books and toys. Not anymore.

Lanira sighed, muttering to Unambi she had heard most of the staff had fled after the attack, so it would only be the two of them. Unambi grunted and nodded, shifting his position a little to reach out for a long, thin shard of glass.

"I'll start with the bedding," Lanira remarked to no one in particular as she glanced out the shattered window at the sky. "There's still a good breeze up, and it's looking to be a warm day, too. Best to get these things dried out before they start to stink of damp, at least until a washerwoman can be found." She unbuttoned the cuffs of her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows, her movements quick and efficient. She leaned over and began to strip the bed, grunting with the effort.

"Ah! It's soaked right the way through!" she huffed, annoyed. She gathered up the cover, holding it dripping at arm's length so it wouldn't wet her dress and moved to the door, skirting the glass Unambi had not yet collected. She called to him over her shoulder. "When you are done with the glass, I'll need you to carry the mattress down to the laundry yard." She didn't wait for him to answer. She hurried down the stairs, her feet swift, filled with purpose and industriousness. Idira wondered if Lanira somehow enjoyed the sudden changes in the house, the lack of staff, of having to be self-sufficient, and everyone being the same. Even VanCleef was working to clear away the dead, she'd told them when she arrived, flustered and a little excitable.

When Idira asked, Lanira told her Myra and the baby were safe, hidden in a secret chamber in the cellar, filled with provisions for just such an emergency, and would be staying there for at least the day. Idira had tried to think where it could be. She thought she had explored every part of the house, but it seemed it still held secrets, even from her. She asked if she could go and see them, but Unambi shook his head. Ya be lettin' dem clean up da dead first, he'd said.

Idira didn't argue. She didn't really want to see any more blood, anyway. Myra and the baby were safe. One less thing to think about.

"I'm going to go and get Blackie," she said. Unambi nodded and carried on working. He hadn't said much after he'd found Idira weeping in the hallway, her ruined books scattered every which way. Idira knew enough to know he was mad. He always went quiet like that when he was angry. But just like her, there was nothing he could do about it. Papa and VanCleef had all the power, and Idira, Unambi, Lanira, Nin, Arinna, Myra and baby Vanessa were just leaves drifting along in their current.

She hurried down the hall, disturbing the plaster dust settled on the carpet, making it rise up in little puffs. She turned the corner and stopped. She had forgotten about the dead men outside the room. She dithered, thinking about going back to get Unambi. What if they weren't really dead and one of them jumped up and grabbed her? She eyed their chests, watching to see if they moved, even a little. They lay perfectly still. She decided to count to sixty. She took her time. She heard Blackie meowing and lost count halfway though and had to start again. This time she made it to sixty. They hadn't moved.

She took a deep breath and scurried to the door. She opened it and slipped inside, shutting it behind her. Blackie had moved to the window's ledge. She stood up and lifted her tail in greeting, the tip curling into the shape of a little hook.

"Are you hungry?" Idira whispered as she stepped towards the cat. She held out her hand, unsure whether Blackie would come to her or not after everything that had happened. Blackie moved forward and rubbed her head against Idira's hand, grateful for her company. A sound rose up from the stable yard. Idira looked down.

The yard had been cleared of its dead, although dark stains still covered the cobblestones, black and ugly. A burly man, his hands bound behind his back walked across the yard, stumbling a little. Two of VanCleef's men held onto him, one on each side of him, rough, jerking him forward. He looked up at the house. Idira stared, astonished.

"Benny!" she cried out, knocking on the window trying to get his attention. His attention snapped over to her, and his eyes met hers. He looked beat up, really bad. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. The men escorting him glanced up at Idira. They both shook their heads at her, warning her to stay away before they pulled Benny into the kitchen.

Idira didn't waste any time. She gathered Blackie up into her arms and pulled the door open. The men. She had forgotten about them. Again. She was pretty sure they looked the same as they did before. She didn't wait. She bolted down the hall, running so fast, Blackie bounced in her arms. She ran into Unambi's room and put the cat down beside the brazier.

"Unambi!" she called as she ran back out, closing the door again. "Blackie needs food. I'm going to go and get some for her." Without waiting for his permission she scarpered down the stairs, hoping with all her heart there wouldn't be any more dead bodies along the way.

She made it down the stairs and through the entrance hall without seeing any dead, but there was a lot of blood splattered over the walls, rugs and furnishings. Smears trailed across the floor where the dead and dying had been dragged away.

Almost all of the steps and flagstones of the inner courtyard were covered in blood, some of it, caught in the heat of the sun, congealed in thick viscous puddles. Even with the stiff breeze coming through the gaping holes at the front of the house, the house stank of slaughter, reminding Idira of the smell of the abattoir that sometimes blew on a tricky easterly wind, carrying with it the scent of fear and death.

No one cleaned, and so far, she hadn't seen a single servant. She wondered if they would come back. It was strange to see the house no longer orderly and beautiful. It felt like a bad dream, one she would wake up from. She stopped. Maybe she was dreaming. It could still be the night of the storm, and Myra could still be in labour. If she was dreaming, then she could warn VanCleef of what was coming and then the house wouldn't be ruined. She pinched herself as hard as she could. Nothing happened, apart from a sharp pain and an angry red mark rising up from her forearm. She huffed. So, it was real, after all. Someone took hold of her shoulder. She jumped and bumped into Unambi.

He shook his head at her, his unhappiness plain as he cast a gaze around the bloody arena. "Dis be bad mojo."

Idira could hear voices coming from the kitchen. She touched Unambi's arm.

"There's someone in there I want to see," she said, quiet.

He narrowed his eyes, listening to the indistinct voices talking. He shook his head. "Da boss be in dere I don' tink—"

"We don't have to go in," Idira interrupted. "I just want to see him and hear what they are saying," she looked up at him, willing him to say yes. "Please?" she begged.

Unambi crouched down, listening, his eyes moving back and forth as he followed the conversation. The voices stopped. Footsteps went outside, to the stable yard. Someone was yelling, protesting. Unambi closed his eyes. "No."

Idira looked at him, surprised. "Why?"

"Da boss jus' killed a man." He dragged a finger across his throat. "Like dat."

Idira stared at him, disbelieving. " He killed Benny?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Footsteps approached. Unambi yanked her behind a huge potted plant. She peeked out. VanCleef walked into the courtyard. He had finally put on some armour, the black one with the sleeveless tunic. His swords hung from his hips, sheathed in their black scabbards. The men Idira had seen in the stable yard followed after him, Benny between them, stumbling to stay on his feet, his arms still bound tight behind him. Closer now, she could see his face looked very swollen and bloody. She bit back a cry of relief. She knew VanCleef wouldn't kill Benny. VanCleef turned and went down the corridor to his study. She waited for him to close the door, he didn't. Voices drifted into the courtyard.

She glanced at Unambi. "What are they saying?"

"Is dat da one ya wanted ta be seein'?" he asked, jerking his head towards VanCleef's study. Idira nodded, wishing he would tell her what they were talking about. He grunted and tilted his head, his eyes moving once more. He glanced at Idira, a look of approval sliding over his face. His eyes moved some more. He chuckled.

Idira could barely stand it. She tugged on his arm, making it wobble a little against his thigh. "Wha—"

He held up a finger, silencing her. She waited, watching his face for the tiniest change of expression. He smiled, slow, and nodded. "He be a good man, dis one. Dey almost done. Jus' you be waitin' an' I be tellin' ya what ya want ta know."

Idira clung to the edge of the planter, bouncing on her toes and jiggling her legs, trying to hear what was being said for herself, but everything just blended together into a low hum. Frustration and impatience gnawed at her. She huffed. Unambi shot her a sharp look. She held still, though her agitation to know if Benny was going to be alright nearly made her bolt to VanCleef's study. She tightened her grip on the planter, fighting a losing battle with her patience. The voices stopped and the men came out, escorting Benny back into the kitchen. Another door slammed, the one Idira recognised as the one leading to the cellar. VanCleef stayed in his office. She gave Unambi a look, full of meaning. Now?

He didn't answer, instead he picked her up and carried her into the kitchen, navigating the courtyard without touching any of the blood. He set her down onto the table, and began rummaging in the cupboards. A shank of roast meat and a string of cheese appeared his hands. He tossed them onto the table before rifling through the cupboards once more. A loaf of bread joined the rest of the items. He put a platter on the table beside Idira and pushed the food over to her.

"Eat dat," he said, "and save some for da kittie."

Her mouth watered at the sight of the meat. She tore into the bread and meat, the bread was stale, but the meat was still tender. She set the bread aside, and worked her fingers against the roast, shredding strips of the greasy flesh away and into her mouth. She hoped Lanira wouldn't catch her eating like this, or there would be trouble.

"Dat man," Unambi rumbled as he sank down into a crouch, "he almos' be killing Jac. Da boss's men be findin' dem fightin' out on da edge o' da town."

Idira stopped chewing. "What happened to Papa?" she asked, her mouth full. A tiny part of her hoped VanCleef's men had finished him off.

Unambi shook his head, resigned. "He be gettin' away."

Idira looked down, a mixture of disappointment and relief flooded through her. A part of her believed Papa could still change, that if he just had the chance he could be a better man. He had just had so much bad done to him, it had made him bad. She noticed her fingers were all greasy, Lanira would have a fit. She looked around for a napkin, but there was nothing, the linen cupboard had been stripped bare. She guessed everything had been taken to be used for bandages. She wiped her hands on her night dress, it was ruined anyway. She pushed her platter away, still laden with plenty of meat for Blackie.

"Why didn't Benny warn us?" she asked, quiet.

Before Unambi could answer, the door to the cellar opened and VanCleef's men appeared, their tunics blood-spattered and dusty. One of them hefted up the bar over the door. They looked tired. They eyed the food on the table, then the troll hunching in the shadows, his eyes yellow slits. Unambi nodded at them. They came over and helped themselves.

One of them, called Kip, glanced down at Idira as he pulled a section of meat from the shank. He was one of the not-so-mean ones, a mercenary soldier, not a criminal like most of the others. "How you doing, kid?" he asked.

Idira shrugged. "Okay." She looked up. "Can I see Benny now?"

The two men shared a look, the other one shrugged. "It's up to Unambi," Kip said. "Boss said to untie him. Benny's down in the wine cellar, until things get settled."

Unambi sniffed. "What be da situation in da town?"

Kip scoffed. "Not good." He glanced at Idira before continuing, "between the storm damage and the wreckage from the cannons, Moonbrook's a mess, it's going to take weeks to clean it up. But apart from the one in the cellar and the wounded we found hiding in the houses, it looks like Jac used all his men at once. We didn't find anyone else, no back-up forces anywhere." He took another bite of meat and continued, his mouth full. "Shame that bastard got away. He's like a cockroach. Hard to kill."

Idira stiffened. Kip cleared his throat. "I'm sorry pet. I know he's your Pa. But he fired cannons at the house where his two daughters live. There's got to be a special place in the Void for someone like him."

Unambi stood up and pulled Idira off the table. "Ya want ta be seein' dis Benny?" he asked, soft.

"Yes, please," Idira whispered, blinking back tears. She followed Unambi to the cellar door, waiting while he lifted the bar away and pulled the door open. She looked back at Kip, watching her, pity in his eyes.

"You're right. Papa's bad," she said, her voice wavering. "But I have to believe one day he'll get better, otherwise what does that make me?"

Kip's expression crumpled. "No, sweetheart. No. Don't think—"

She ran down the stairs ahead of Unambi. She didn't want to hear it. It was true, if Papa was bad, and sometimes Myra was bad, maybe she was bad, too.


Benny looked terrible. His face had been battered almost to the point of being unrecognisable. He sat with his back against one of the huge casks of wine, his knees drawn up, his arms resting on top of them. All his knuckles were split apart, a few still oozed blood. He turned his head as they approached. The flesh around his eyes had swollen so much he could only look out of slits. Still, they widened a little when he saw Unambi.

"Idira," he said, his voice hoarse.

She wanted to run to him and hug him, but he looked like he was in so much pain she didn't want to hurt him anymore.

She turned to Unambi. "Please, tell Kip to find Arinna." Unambi nodded and went back upstairs. She hoped Kip would do it.

"What happened?" she asked, stepping nearer to him. In the meagre light of the hanging lamps, the shadows of his bruises deepened. He licked his swollen lips, blistered, split open and caked with dried blood.

"Water," he croaked. "Please."

Idira ran back upstairs. Both the men were gone, and so was Unambi. She wondered where the troll had gone. She glanced at the table. Very little remained of the food. Her platter was gone, too. Of course. He had taken the meat up to Blackie before someone else ate it. He really did love cats.

She fetched a jug and pumped water into it. Grabbing a cup, she bolted back down the stairs. Benny hadn't moved. She poured him a cup of water and held it up to his lips. He raised one of his swollen and bloody hands to the cup, steadying it, and drank. He gulped down its contents, slurping, noisy, frantic with thirst. She poured him another cup. He drank all of that too. He settled back with a heavy sigh.

She sat down in front of him. His armour and body were filthy, his flesh covered in cuts and bruises. He looked even worse than the time VanCleef had beaten him up. Benny closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head against the cask. Within a handful of heartbeats his body sagged. He slid down onto the floor, unconsciousness.

Unambi returned and sank into a crouch, eyeing Benny.

"Why didn't Benny warn us?" Idira asked again.

Unambi shook his head. "Let da man tell ya hisself. He be earnin' da right."

Footsteps approached, hesitant. It couldn't be Arinna already. A quiet gasp filled the air.

Myra stepped out from the shadows into the little pool of light under the solitary hanging lamp. Her hair hung loose, tumbling down around her nightgown. She looked so pale and fragile, she seemed almost ephemeral. She crept across the wine cellar towards Benny, her eyes raking over his body, taking in his injuries. She sank to her knees, tears glistening in her eyes.

"You're still alive," she breathed. "My love. You came for me."

"No he didn't. He tried to kill Papa. That's why he's here," Idira corrected, searching her sister for signs of injury, thinking of VanCleef's shattered bedroom. "Did you get hurt? What about Vanessa?"

"We're fine," Myra answered, not taking her eyes from Benny. "There's a passage beside the fireplace that leads to the cellar, we made it out just in time." She looked like she was drinking in the sight of him, it reminded Idira of the way Benny had looked at the jug of water.

Footsteps pattered across the floor above. Someone came down the stairs, panting.

"Idira?" a voice called out, frantic with worry.

"Arinna?" Idira called back, astonished. How could she have arrived so fast?

The priestess came down the corridor into the wine cellar. She skidded to a halt when she came upon the little party. Ignoring the others, she went straight to Idira and clutched her against her chest.

"Oh poppet! I am so glad you are alright. I came as soon as I could."

"What do you mean?" Idira asked as Arinna let her go, looking Idira over, examining her for injuries. "I thought Kip went to get you?"

"Kip?" Arinna looked bewildered. "No, I left Stormwind Cathedral last night as soon as the storm passed. I have been so worried about you. I came straight here to find the house in near ruins and drenched in blood." She shot a dirty look at Unambi, her expression filled with accusation, as though the whole thing were somehow his fault.

Idira pointed at Benny. "Please can you heal him, he's hurt really bad. He's my friend."

Arinna continued to glare at Unambi. He looked back at her, impassive. A shudder rippled through Arinna, her outrage palpable. For a heartbeat, Idira wondered if Arinna was going to hit him. Idira took hold of the priestess's arm and shook it, trying to pull her attention from Unambi to Benny.

"Can you heal him," Idira repeated, urgent.

Arinna glanced at Benny and nodded. "I can," she said as her gaze swivelled back to Unambi, fierce. "But then I want answers. Just wait until the Lady Nin finds out. VanCleef is going to be held accountable for what's happened here. A child in a charnel house! It's unthinkable!"

Unambi shook his head and looked away. Idira felt sorry for him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault. He just happened to be the first one Arinna could find to blame for her shock. Arinna knelt beside Benny, rigid as a board. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

It took her a little while, but finally, Light, warm and clean enveloped her hands. She lifted them to Benny's face, drawing out the dark tendrils of pain and injury, cleansing them in her Light. No one said anything. Idira hardly dared to breathe. Little by little, Benny's cuts and bruises faded, the swelling around his eyes eased and the familiar outlines of his brow and jaw returned.

She moved to work on his arms and hands. The gashes on his knuckles shrank and new skin knitted over the gaping holes, fresh and clean. Arinna fell back onto her haunches, though the Light still glowed in her hands.

"Someone needs to undress him, he has more injuries under his armour," she murmured.

Myra came forward, her fingers working quick and deft on the buckles and straps of his leather tunic. She pulled it off and tossed it aside, it hit the flagstones with a heavy slap.

"Help me lay him down," she said to Idira. "Hold onto his ankles, and pull him out straight when I say."

Idira did as she was told, trying not to think what might happen if VanCleef were to come down and find Myra undressing Benny in the wine cellar. Her fingers trembling, Myra pulled at the ties of Benny's breeches, her breathing quick and nervous. Maybe she was afraid of VanCleef finding them together, too. She freed the laces and yanked his leather breeches down to the top of his boots. He was completely naked underneath, something between his legs sprung up proud and erect, like a fat, pink tube. A pungent smell of stinky cheese filled Idira's nostrils. Unambi's hand came over Idira's eyes.

"It happens sometimes, an effect of the healing. It means nothing," Arinna said, brusque. "Just put his tunic over it." Idira heard the rasp of Benny's heavy leather tunic being dragged across the floor. Idira pulled at Unambi's hand, impatient. After a few heartbeats, he let go. Benny lay naked to his knees, flat on his back, his filthy tunic spread out over his hips. Nasty bruises covered his ribs and thighs and several gouges in his torso seeped blood. Idira could make out the outline of a club in the bruises. Idira shook her head. Poor Benny. He had been beaten really bad.

Arinna carried on with her work although it took much longer to heal his torso than his face. She held her hand over his flank, murmuring his kidney had been ruptured and the toxins in his body had already begun to poison him. Without her aid, she said he would have died within a day. Myra watched in silence, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She glanced at Idira and offered her a wavering smile before her gaze returned to Benny, her hand holding his, just like VanCleef had held hers when Arinna healed Myra.

Steps came down the stairs, Idira recognised the sound of the footfalls. Idira shot a look at Myra. VanCleef, she mouthed. Myra blanched. She let go of Benny's hand and scuttled backwards. With one last, longing look at his prone body she hurried away into the shadows.

VanCleef's footfalls neared. Idira looked up, biting her lip, what if he didn't want Benny to be healed? VanCleef came in. Exhaustion etched his features. His eyes moved over the scene, slow, assessing, suspicious. Idira was glad Myra was gone. He glanced at Unambi, his look filled with accusation. Unambi shook his head and jerked his chin at Idira. VanCleef nodded, resigned.

"Will he live?" he asked Arinna, even his words sounded tired.

She nodded as she finished, the Light fading from her hands. She looked up at him, pale and drained. "He will now."

VanCleef didn't say anything. His eyes moved to the passageway leading to wherever Myra had come from. He followed it without saying another word. Idira waited for the fighting to begin again, but there was nothing, only silence greeted them, ominous and cold.


For the next few days, Idira spent the daylight hours with Benny while Unambi worked with Lanira to restore Idira's room. Arinna bought her a new colouring book and a new box of pencils from a shop in Moonbrook, although the pictures weren't as fancy as the books from Stormwind. There weren't any pictures of Khadgar, only animals. Still, she was glad to be able to colour again.

Kip brought down a spare mattress and blankets from the men's quarters for Benny and a stool for Idira. No one seemed to care what she did while the house was being put back into order, not even Lanira, who had become obsessed with the project of restoring Idira's bedroom back to its former state.

From dawn until dusk, the hammering of scaffolding going up rang out, relentless. A team of men, masons all of them, arrived from the north, where they had been collecting tolls from Stormwind travellers for the Brotherhood. As soon as the hammering stopped, the tink of stonecutter's tools rang out from both the square and the stable yard. One by one, the servants returned, driven by the necessity of their wages. VanCleef docked the days they missed, but forgave them, understanding they were frightened. He promised them nothing like that would ever happen again. Slowly, under the efforts of a small but growing army, the house began to take shape again, the memory of the morning of their attack fading with each new dawn.

Three days after being healed, Benny woke up and asked for something to eat, saying he was famished. Idira went upstairs and asked the cook what she could give him. A little while later she came back down, carrying a platter laden with fresh roasted Roc meat, a small loaf of beer malted bread and a bowl of creamy potato soup.

As he ate, ravenous, she told him about his ruptured kidney and Arinna's healing saving him just in time. He mopped up the dregs of his soup with the bread, finishing the last bite with a satisfied belch. He patted Idira's hand, affectionate.

"Ye've allus been such a good girl," he said. "Thank ye for lookin' out for me."

He leaned his back against one of the wine casks and looked around the cellar. He sniffed. "An' Myra, she's safe?" he asked, trying to act casual. Idira could see through him though, just like she could see through Myra.

"She is. She has a baby girl, born on the night of the storm. Her name is Vanessa," Idira answered, watching him.

"Oh?" he said. He brushed a few crumbs off his blanket, trying to look nonchalant but Idira could tell he was gutted. "Is she happy?" he asked without looking up.

"She was until you turned up again."

He didn't say anything. Idira thought he looked a little pleased, but she wasn't sure. She decided to change the subject, she had waited long enough for her answer.

"Why didn't you warn us Papa was going to attack?" she asked, her eyes hard on him. "Didn't you care we might have been killed?"

Benny flinched, as though she had physically struck him.

"I tried so hard ta talk him out o' it," he answered eventually, his eyes unfocusing as he relived the memory. "I did everything I could ta stop him. When I wouldna' agree to go along wit' him, he set his men on me an' left me trussed up at Klaven's Tower ta die. I managed ta get free and ran the whole way ta Moonbrook, terrified I was too late. All I could think of was the two of ye, gone forever . . ." Tears glinted in his eyes. He rubbed them away with the back of his hand. He shuddered. "I'm so glad ye're safe," he whispered.

Idira stared at him, incredulous. The club marks she had seen on his torso, Papa's men had done that to him. Klaven's Tower was far, and Benny had run all the way to Moonbrook, with a ruptured kidney, to try to save them. And then after all that, he had confronted Papa outside the town, trying to kill him with his bare hands. Her throat tightened, thick with emotion. Tears gathered in her eyes. She threw herself into his arms.

"Oh Benny," she cried out, "you are the best man in the world. How I wish everything had turned out different. But it doesn't matter. Myra still loves you. So much."

He sobbed so hard, he shuddered from the force of it. His arms came around her, clutching her tight against him as she wept. He whispered nonsense words to soothe her, even as he continued to sob, soft, his tears falling into her hair, grieving for the woman who had been stolen from him and still loved him, even after all this time.


After Papa's attack, VanCleef offered five hundred gold pieces for Jac's head, and one hundred for information which would lead to his capture. With a bounty like that on offer—more than two years' wages for most people—plenty came forward with stories of things they had heard, but all of them came to nothing. After eight months, VanCleef grew tired of wasting his men on what he called 'wild goose chases'. He took down the bounty and sent Kip out along with Benny and several rogues to hunt Papa down, but they never found him.

After more than a year of searching, Kip came back carrying nothing more than rumours that Papa had reappeared for a time in Redridge, then in Duskwood, and even for a time in a remote corner of Elwynn Forest. The wildest rumor had him keeping company with a band of pirates far to the south, at the very bottom of Stranglethorn Vale, at Booty Bay.

VanCleef listened to Kip's report, his lips thin. He nodded and said if Jac was hiding amongst pirates, then VanCleef would turn the pirates against him. A few weeks later, Kip and Benny set sail from the south coast of Westfall, the ship's hold laden with antique furniture, fine woven rugs, and crates of rare porcelain and gold candelabra taken from Jac's house on the square. They came back four months later. The pirates were more than happy to work with VanCleef, but Jac wasn't with them, and never had been. They promised if he turned up, they would catch him and turn him over, for a price, of course.

Kip and Benny didn't come back alone, however. When it became known VanCleef was looking for a ship to modify into a juggernaut, a small green creature by the name of Captain Greenskin offered the services of his ship and crew, but at an enormous price. Kip said no, knowing VanCleef could never afford such an exorbitant demand, but he couldn't get rid of the goblin once he learned the ship would be used to sack Stormwind, where everyone who was anyone knew the banks ran with rivers of gold.

The goblin pirate's determination to be a part of VanCleef's Brotherhood troubled Kip, so he decided to set sail in the night, planning to slip out of Booty Bay and away from the odious creature, but the canny goblin was ready to follow. Guided by the light from Westfall's lighthouse, The Night's Cutlass steered thought the narrow straight between Westfall's deadly shoals, arriving just as the horizon glowed with the pink light of dawn. As the dock workers gaped, horrified, the pirate ship eased into the dockyard, its black flags snapping in the stiff ocean breeze. It put in just outside the Deadmines' massive water gates, and made herself comfortable.

At first VanCleef was furious. He had no wish to include pirates in his Brotherhood. He complained about it at every meal, blaming Jac for this unfortunate turn of events, bitterness tainting his every word.

The goblin and his crew remained on their ship, refusing to depart from the docks. Nothing could be done. They were pirates, after all. VanCleef ignored them for as long as he could, actively seeking other options for ships, but after five months of chasing false leads, the last possibility fell through when a message from Theramore arrived, informing him there would be no business done between them. He had only one other choice left to him, hire shipwrights and build his own ship, which he had neither the time nor the means to do. He raged and stormed around the house in a foul mood for a week, cursing the day he was born, asking no one in particular why everything always had to be so hard for him.

The next day, as sour as a man could be, VanCleef went to the docks and looked at The Night's Cutlass. When he came back, his mood had lifted. As Captain Greenskin had put it, now that he was already invested in the Brotherhood what with the costs of sailing up to Westfall and waiting at the dock for nearly half a year, he offered VanCleef a deal he couldn't refuse. For five hundred pieces of gold up front and half the takings from Stormwind's attack, the boat and crew were VanCleef's to use as he pleased. VanCleef consoled himself, saying he had made a good bargain, reasoning that Captain Greenskin's connections ran deep and he would be able to recruit more members to the Brotherhood, as long as they were guaranteed their fair share of the takings from Stormwind.

Over the next few months, a variety of strange creatures arrived on various ships. One by one they joined the Captain. Reports from the docks of the new arrivals were disturbing, ogres and goblins and even a hobgoblin. Idira had no idea what these creatures looked like. She asked Arinna if she had any pictures in her books. The priestess promised she would check, but she never brought up the subject again. Idira sensed Arinna didn't want to talk about them, so she didn't ask anymore. The docks were far away, anyway. It wasn't like she would ever have to see any of them.

VanCleef said nothing publicly against Greenskin's cohorts, but privately he admitted he had lost far too many of his men in Jac's attack, and since then recruiting men for the Brotherhood had been laborious and slow. He didn't like to admit it, but he needed all the help he could get. Despite almost three years having passed since the morning of Papa's attack, the Brotherhood's numbers had shrunk from controlling Redridge, Duskwood and Westfall to only Westfall, with just a handful of men in Elwynn Forest and Redridge working as contacts for the Brotherhood, nothing more.

On the day of Idira's eleventh birthday, after a year of meticulous preparations and shipments of black market supplies being sourced and delivered from all over Azeroth, VanCleef ordered the massive water gates to the mines to be opened. He went down to supervise The Night's Cutlass's tricky navigation and positioning within the vast cavern of the Deadmines, the ship carrying VanCleef's precious cargo of supplies for the weapons he intended to build onto it. He said he expected the move to take all day, but promised he would be back in time for her birthday dinner. He wasn't. They waited as long as they could, but when the dinner began to get cold, they carried on without him. Although Idira had been a little disappointed, it had still been fun with Nin, Bishop Mattias, Arinna, Lanira, Myra and little Vanessa, two months shy of four years, running around on her little legs, laughing and play fighting with Unambi.

Afterwards, Idira stayed awake as long as she could, laying on Myra's bed talking about nothing in particular, fighting to keep her eyes open. The next morning she woke up where she had fallen asleep. She sat up, astonished. She had expected VanCleef to come home and wake her, before sending her up to her own room. It was the first time VanCleef had not come home at night in all the time Idira had known him.

He didn't come back that day, or even the next. When Myra sent Kip to the docks to check on him, Kip came back and said VanCleef was fine, just very preoccupied. When he finally did return, covered in soot and grease, he only stayed long enough to gather up the rest of his notes and designs for his weapons, and to order a trunk packed with clothes and necessities to be sent down to the docks. He pressed a gold coin into Idira's hand, telling her to buy herself something nice saying he was sorry he had missed her birthday, kissed Vanessa goodbye, and smiled at Myra, saying finally things were starting to come together for him and soon he would be able to make things right for the men who still supported him. He was in such a hurry to return, he didn't even bother to take a bath before striding back out the door and onto a fresh horse.

The summer passed, hot and languid. VanCleef came home on the first Sunday of each month, though he didn't go to the Cathedral to listen to the service. In the evenings he would to meet with Kip, his newly promoted second-in-command to look over the accounting of the takings and deal with the reports.

At the end of the autumn, a new wave of rumours rose up, spreading like wild fire in the late autumn heat. Jac had returned with a new group of villains. His men had begun preying on the good people of Moonbrook, catching them on the roads, taking everything they owned, even the clothes off their backs. Darker stories circulated, of violations against the women, some of them even abducted, taken to Jac's camps to work, and worse.

VanCleef refused to stop the work on his ship, saying he was too close to finishing. He gave Kip full authority to do whatever was necessary to find and kill Jac and his men, but as VanCleef drained all the Brotherhood's finances on additional supplies, and with VanCleef's men busy hunting Jac, money started to run out. VanCleef's men threatened to leave. Something had to be done.

Captain Greenskin knew someone who could help. He suggested contacting him. A few weeks later, a goblin dealer arrived in a hired coach, wearing a fancy black suit and top hat, a gold chain and watch hanging from the pocket of his white waistcoat. He touched everything with his strange green hands, his yellow eyes narrowing with greed whenever he saw something he particularly liked. He wrote a number down and handed it to Kip, who blanched when he read it. The goblin tapped his foot, impatient, reminding Kip that time was money. He even called him friend, though it sounded a little sarcastic.

All the art, rugs, drapes, porcelain, and gold and silver pieces were sold, even VanCleef's silver paperweight in his study. Myra refused to let Kip sell her jewelry. She screamed at him, cursing him for bringing such a hideous avaricious creature into her house, contaminating everything he touched with his filthy hands. Once the rugs and drapes were gone, the house echoed, bare of its clothing. The candles had to be placed in cheap iron holders, excavated from cobwebby crates in the cellar. But without the warm glow of the gold and silver on the sideboards and tables, the house felt colder, lonelier, sad.

Idira hadn't had any dreams in a long time, neither had her Light activated since Unambi had come to stay. She wondered if he somehow protected her from herself with his troll abilities. Either way, she had been grateful for the long reprieve. But now, as she wandered along the bare corridors of the house, stripped of their fine details, she recalled one dream where she had floated around the house and everything was gone, the windows empty gaping holes, and what furniture was left, had lain strewn across the floor, broken and gathering dust. She felt a tremor of dread, perhaps this was the beginning of the end for them, perhaps VanCleef would not succeed after all, and Papa would win, driving Westfall into poverty, terror and despair. She clenched her hands into fists, willing the thought away, afraid that even by thinking it, it might come true.

Unambi was out helping in the stable yard with the horses since Kip couldn't afford to pay for stable hands anymore. She didn't want to bother Unambi when he was mucking out the stables, he liked working with the horses, anyway. She decided to go and see Myra but she wasn't there. Idira opened the doors to the closet, it too stood empty. Maybe her sister was with Vanessa. At almost four and a half, Vanessa spent her afternoons having lessons with Nin, learning her letters. Idira sat down on the divan in the closet, at least this room was still the same. Although almost everything else was gone, Myra had managed to at least protect her personal possessions from that awful little goblin.

Sudden movement at the edge of her vision made her jump, she had thought she was alone. She peered out into the bedroom, wary. A part of the wall beside the fireplace shifted a little, caught in a draught. Her trepidation melted away. The secret passage! Myra had never told her where it was, and since her sister was usually in her room, or close by in Vanessa's room, Idira could never search for the passageway herself without fear of being caught. She crept over to it and edged it open, cautious. A narrow wooden spiral staircase descended into the shadows. Idira could hear voices, soft and indistinct. Knowing Nin would disapprove of her sneaking around, she pushed aside her qualms and let her curiosity overcome her. She had waited so long. Besides she might never get another chance again.

She leaned forward. It smelled fusty, like old crates and the shut up rooms on her floor. Pulling the panel closed behind her, she edged her foot down onto the first step, bracing her hands against the walls on either side of her. The space was so narrow, she imagined VanCleef would have to go down the steps sideways. In total darkness, she felt her way down, claustrophobia clawing at her. She thought about turning back when she heard a familiar voice. Benny! She hadn't seen him in months. She hurried on. A sliver of light glowed in the darkness below, coalescing into the outline of a doorway as she drew closer. It must be the secret room where Myra had hidden on the day the attack! Idira had never found that either. Almost bursting with excitement she came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, her hand coming up to press against the door.

A quiet sigh, followed by a deep groan made her hesitate. She knew those sounds well enough from VanCleef and Myra's night-time activities. Idira would be twelve soon, and her own changing body had started to remind her she was no longer a little girl but growing into womanhood. Lanira had given Idira a little book about that, detailing what to expect from her body as it developed into maturity. None of those things had started to happen yet, for which Idira was glad, it sounded terrible and frightening. But one thing was certain, her interests were definitely changing. Sometimes she would sit in her bedroom window and watch the apprentices working in the smithy across the square, the lean muscles of their arms and chests rippling with exertion and gleaming with sweat. She might not be sure what was happening to her, but she did know she liked looking at them.

Benny moaned again. The distinct sound of kissing came through the narrow wooden door. She just wanted to see Benny, that's all. Maybe they hadn't gone too far, and she could make some noise before coming in. She would just take a peek first, to see. She edged the door open the tiniest crack.

Benny had Myra in his arms, her face caught between his hands, his mouth on hers, kissing her with such passion, Idira could only stare, fascinated. Benny didn't look like a silly boy anymore, he looked like a real man. A big, strong, grown-up man.

He pulled back, his eyes hot on Myra's. "Ye're mine. Never forget it."

Myra nodded and pulled at the laces of his breeches, panting, frantic. His hands moved to her gown, jerking her skirts up to her waist. He picked her up and settled her against his hips with a grunt, his hands gripping her by her buttocks. Her legs slid round his waist, tightening as he rocked her against him. They began to moan, both of them breathing hard. Myra's fingers dug into Benny's shoulders, her hair falling loose from its pins as she rode him, arching her back.

Idira pulled away, ashamed, and crept back up the stairs. She went to her room and sat down in her window seat, her mind filled with the images of what she had just seen. Benny and Myra. She wondered how long they had been together. Myra had been in an inexplicably good mood for a long time now, at least since the middle of the summer. Idira had wondered why, now she knew. Even though it was disloyal to VanCleef, Idira was glad. Myra loved Benny and he loved her. They should be together, and anyway VanCleef was never home anymore, he spent all his time with his precious boat and his strange new allies. Was Myra just supposed to sit in her room and be lonely?

Idira looked down into the square. The men in the smithy were taking a break. They smoked roll-ups and talked in little groups, looking serious and worried, rubbing their big, meaty hands over their shaved heads. The apprentices continued to work, sweeping and topping up the water bath with fresh pails of water. She watched them for awhile, her thoughts drifting back to how Benny had looked at Myra. One day she hoped someone would look at her like that. One of the apprentices glanced up at her window. Their eyes met. He smiled, shy.

She bolted out of the window seat and perched on the edge of her bed, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She glared at the book Lanira had given her with loathing. According to page twenty-seven, embarrassment around boys was normal and was only the beginning of 'the exciting and delightful changes her body was about to experience'. She shook her head. She had read up to page forty-five and had to stop, the 'delightful changes' were too upsetting. Things were only going to get a lot worse from here on out. A sudden urge to cry overcame her. Page thirty-three talked about that. She decided to distract herself thinking about someone who had more problems than she. She thought about the hero Khadgar trapped on another planet. It was all so unjust, after everything he had done. Why was everything so unfair? She thought of him all alone and lonely, missing his friends and his home. The next thing she knew she was crying, though she really had no idea why.


Winter came and went, and Jac's stranglehold on Westfall increased. Kip contacted the goblin again, and sold all the furniture that wasn't being used, which was most of it. Apart from Unambi, and Kip's occasional presence, there was no one left in the house to protect them. Though of what interest were two children and Myra? There was nothing to take, unless thieves were inclined to start stripping the wooden panels from the walls. Even Myra's jewellery was gone now, taken in the third run by that nasty goblin, along with almost all of her gowns, apart from her plainest ones.

The smithies took it upon themselves to organise huge caravans to help Moonbrook's citizens leave Westfall. Armed with borrowed guns supplied by Captain Greenskin, they escorted the people of Moonbrook across Westfall and over the river bridge into the safety of Elwynn Forest, leaving them outside the safety of Westbrook Garrison to carry on the rest of the way to Stormwind on their own.

The wealthier people shut up their businesses and boarded up the windows of their big houses, driving away in their carriages to the dockyard, followed by wagonloads of crates filled with their most valuable possessions. Idira heard most of them had headed for Menethil, a huge walled city far to the north in a province called The Wetlands. A fresh start, that's what they wanted, they said, away from VanCleef who was rumoured to be going mad, and his warring Brotherhood. They had had enough.

In the middle of spring, Kip let the last of the house staff go, though there weren't many left to send away. Most of them had already left Westfall, fleeing with their families, along with the caravans. Lanira left as well, taking the last caravan, saying she had stayed as long as she could for Idira's sake but her own family's safety was also at stake. Idira cried harder than she expected she would when Lanira finally pulled away and walked out the front door, escorted by Kip. Idira ran out into the empty square and called after Lanira, frantic, begging her not to leave, calling her Mama. Lanira crumpled, staggering in Kip's grip. Her shoulders shook as she wept, but didn't turn back. Supported by Kip, she kept walking, and never looked back.

Cook was the only one who stayed, saying she had no family to go to and nowhere else to be, declaring she had been born in this house and would die in this house. Idira didn't know what Kip thought about Benny, but there was no doubt he turned a blind eye to the stolen time Benny spent with Myra. Late one night, Idira had woken up hungry and gone down to the kitchen in search of food. When she had walked past VanCleef's door, she heard Myra cry out Benny's name as they made love on VanCleef's bed. It was as if VanCleef didn't even exist anymore. It felt as though everything had come full circle, right back to where they started from. It was just Myra, Benny and Idira again, poor and hungry, and Papa was still bad, just like before. The only thing that was different was they lived in a bigger house, and now there was Vanessa and Unambi and Kip.

Idira woke on her twelfth birthday to a house shrouded in total silence knowing there would be no celebration and no presents. They barely had enough food to manage, just whatever Kip could scrounge from the dockyard intended for the workers on the ship. It had been six months since VanCleef had left the Deadmines. Idira wondered anew if the rumours were true and he had begun to go mad, maybe they would never see him again. She was glad they had Benny, he would know what to do, maybe they could finally go and live in Elwynn Forest.

She sank down into her window seat and looked over the deserted square. The smithy lay empty and forlorn, a large tumbleweed rolled back and forth inside it, caught between the forge and anvil. The Weary Traveller, boarded up for more than two months bore a thick chain and padlock around the handles of its front doors. The rest of the shops on the square stood silent and dark, their dust coated windows broken. Whatever little the owners had left behind long gone, stolen in the frenzy of self-preservation that overcame the town as its exodus progressed.

Her gaze drifted to the once pretty fountain and its garden, long since fallen into disrepair. During a sudden, brief cold snap over the winter, the pipes burst and the poor fish froze to death. Borda cut off the water supply, but no one bothered to remove the fish, leaving them to rot in the rancid, filthy water, the stink of their decay rising up to Idira's room for days. Without its gardeners, the garden, lawn and rose bushes died of thirst, leaving only the skeletal spines of their once beautiful branches behind, twisted and gnarled.

The other houses on the square lay ransacked, their doors kicked in and windows shattered. For a while mayhem had controlled the streets, as the poorest, lowest classes—unable to pay their way on the caravans—vented their anger and resentment against the privileged in an orgy of destruction. Eventually, even they left. Hunger driving them out onto the wastelands of Westfall, in search of something, anything to eat. Without ever having to return, Papa had managed to lay an entire town to waste.

She glanced at the letter in her hand, brought to her by Kip. He had found it in the tunic of one of Papa's dead men, after one of his many skirmishes against them. A little blood stained one side of it, but the words were still legible. It was a letter from Nin, handwritten in her elegant hand on a fine piece of embossed stationery. Dated three months ago, she apologised for not having been able to say goodbye in person but she had had to leave in great haste with an escort of Stormwind guards sent specifically to collect her. She learned her royal connections to the previous Queen were enough to warrant her protection despite her fidelity to VanCleef.

She wrote detailing how she had barely had enough time to shut up her house in Moonbrook and leave. Once in Stormwind, she had been taken aside and told she wouldn't be allowed to return until VanCleef was contained. She later saw a generous reward had been posted around the city, inviting adventurers to enter the Deadmines and defeat VanCleef before he could attack Stormwind. She quickly moved on and wrote Arinna and Bishop Mattias also sent their love, having accepted her offer for them to join her in her flight. She reassured Idira if anything ever happened and she needed a home to go to, she could always find one with Nin in Stormwind. She had enclosed a promissory note for ten gold pieces, but Idira had no idea how she could ever access her sudden wealth when the bank in Moonbrook had been closed since the New Year, the vaults long emptied by VanCleef's demands for support. She hid the bank note in her book about growing into womanhood. Somehow she suspected not even that greedy goblin would bother to look in there.


Two months later, in the middle of a broiling hot late spring afternoon, Idira lounged on the steps of the inner courtyard watching Unambi play Vanessa's favourite game with her. It was a made-up game she called Dagger Girl. It wasn't really a game more just pretend, but Vanessa loved to play act she was grown-up like her father, carrying two blades. She used little wooden daggers, attacking Unambi with a ferocity that was fascinating to watch. Only just turned five, she had clearly inherited her father's catlike agility. Unambi showed her moves, which she learned and executed with alacrity. Blackie came in and sat down beside Idira, swishing her tail and washing her face. Idira petted her, thinking at least Blackie would always have plenty to eat, once the people and all their cats left, rats had arrived, carried to shore by all the ships from other lands carrying VanCleef's supplies.

The front door slammed. Idira looked up, startled. Unambi stood up and pushed Vanessa behind him. Idira hurried over to join them.

"Where is everyone?" VanCleef hollered, his voice echoing through the deserted corridors and rooms of the house.

"We be 'ere," Unambi called back. They waited. Eight months. Idira had not seen VanCleef in eight months, and now, all of a sudden here he was as though he had just left to run an errand.

He walked into the courtyard. Idira caught her breath. He looked very pale and tired. Grey hair had begun to streak his temples and deep lines furrowed his brow, despite the bright sunlight, dark shadows stubbornly clung to his eyes.

"Daddy!" Vanessa screeched, running to him, her arms open wide. VanCleef's exhausted face split into a huge smile. He knelt down and swept her up into his arms, hugging her close to him.

"Oh my little love, oh my darling, how I have missed you!" he cried out, tears filling his eyes.

Idira stayed with Unambi, watching them. VanCleef looked leaner. So he had gone without food, too. At least he had not neglected them while he continued to look after himself, as she had occasionally suspected in her darker moments. He looked up at them, his gaze searching the edges of the empty courtyard.

"Where's Myra?"

A rush of terror swept over Idira as she remembered she had met Benny in the kitchen an hour ago. He had said he couldn't stay long, since he was on his way north to meet Kip.

"She's having a nap," Idira said, ashamed how easily the lie slipped off her tongue. She didn't wait for VanCleef to answer, she ran up the stairs and pounded on the bedroom door, calling out Myra's name. She could hear the frantic sound of straps being buckled and lacings being tied. Idira heaved a sigh of relief. They must have heard VanCleef come in.

"I'll be right down," Myra called out, breathless.

Idira returned to the courtyard. VanCleef looked up, expectant, his obvious disappointment plain once he realised Myra wasn't there. Idira swallowed the surge of guilt that washed over he. She smiled and reassured him Myra was on her way. He let go of Vanessa and gave Idira a warm hug.

"Look at you," he said, looking her over, fond, "growing up so fast. And so pretty, just like your sister." Idira smiled, flattered by the compliment. All the mirrors had been taken months ago, so she could only see her reflection in a pail of water, or at night in the candlelight against a window. She had had no idea if she was pretty or not. Somehow him telling her so, made her feel warm and happy inside.

Myra came in, her cheeks flushed and her hair hanging loose in its chignon. She patted down the stray wisps, nervous.

VanCleef let Idira go and went to Myra. He took her in his arms and kissed her, hard. He let her go and held her at arm's length, drinking in the sight of her.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," he sighed and kissed her again. He let her go. "How I have missed you. All of you. But now you will see, my absence will have been worth it." He tightened his hold on Myra. "Everything is ready for you to join me on the ship. I have designed everything, hot running water, rooms for everyone, a kitchen, a washroom, every possible luxury. We don't have to live apart anymore, we can be together, just like before. A family."

"A family," Myra repeated, sagging in his arms, desolate, "on a pirate ship, in a cave, in the dark."

"But we will be together," VanCleef persisted, desperate. "Don't you want to be together? And in a few months, we will be ready to attack Stormwind. You'll see, it's all going to come out right in the end."

Myra didn't answer. She pulled herself free, stumbling a little, weak from hunger and went back upstairs, crying softly.

Vanessa tugged on VanCleef's breeches. He looked down, and smiled at his daughter, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I want to be a family, Daddy. Wherever you go, I want to go." He patted her head, distracted, and looked at Unambi.

"What happened since I've been gone?" he asked, as though he couldn't see how much things had changed. "Myra is so different."

Idira glanced at Unambi, wondering what he was going to say. Maybe VanCleef was a little mad, to ask such a thing.

"Ya been gone too long boss," Unambi answered, giving nothing away. "Dat girl needs time if ya gon' ta be puttin' her on a boat in da dark." He looked down at Idira, pity in his eyes. "We all be needin' time ta be gettin' used ta dat."

Idira felt Unambi's hand take hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She clung to him and looked at VanCleef, fearful. She didn't want to live on his boat. Even living here, in a ruined town, with barely any food was better than that. At least they had fresh air, and sky and clouds, and stars, and the sun. She thought of being closed up inside of a mountain, surrounded by walls of rock. She couldn't do it. Tears welled in her eyes. Please, let this be a bad dream. Please let her have fallen asleep while Vanessa played with Unambi.

VanCleef raked his hand through his hair, distracted. "I'm going to win. She'll see," he muttered to himself. "Everything will come out right in the end."

He walked away, heading to his empty study, behaving as if the house hadn't been stripped bare and there was nothing left for him to find but walls and floors. In his wake, oblivious to her fate, Vanessa trotted after him, as trusting as a lamb.