Kathyra

I limp down the stairs of the Chantry, thankful that the early morning finds it somewhat deserted. I would like to think that Dorothea has kept news of the arrest and subsequent incarceration from reaching the ears of all who dwell here, but experience has taught me otherwise. There are no secrets, no knowledge bound strictly to one person.

I slip behind a pillar as I catch the severe posture of Mother Dorothea striding into the foyer, Giselle in her wake.

"You are late, Sister Giselle." Dorothea's voice is sharp with reprimand, and I feel the sudden desire to spring from the shadows, grasp Dorothea's wicked tongue, and cut it out, watching her bleed from the mouth until she dies. "Shall I presume you to be willfully ignorant of our discussion yesternight?"

"Forgive me, Revered Mother." Giselle apologizes and her head hangs low; the combative glitter is gone from her eyes. "Last night's slumber was restless."

Dorothea's brows rise and a canny smile creases her weathered face. "I understand that, Sister Giselle." She attempts to sound consoling and it twists my gut. "I trust you were thinking of my arrangement with the captain of the guard, and the travail your 'apprentice' will endure if you should not show the proper respect to me and repent for your actions against this holy place. I will remind you that Kathyra's release is solely dependent on your service to our Maker."

"I understand, Mother Dorothea." Giselle whispers, and all of my questions vanish.

My hands curl into fists until my nails bite into my palms, so deep they nearly draw blood.

Dorothea has power that outstrips any city magistrate. She answers only to the Divine, and the Divine is above the law. Even though I have escaped, Giselle is...afraid for my safety and well-being. She would be a slave for my freedom...that is the measure of her love. I will never doubt you again, Giselle. I smile, running my fingers along the leather pouch attached to my belt. And you need not harbor any manner of fear much longer, my physician. There are others who, too, are above the law.

I sneak out of the Chantry, striding down the stairs and into the waking streets of Val Royeaux. I lean against another building, gathering my breath and attempting to ease the splitting ache in my side and leg as movement pulls the stitches and aggravates the deep bruising around the vicious laceration.

I venture deeper into the streets, away from the shadows that once bound me. I am a free woman, unafraid, for those who would have been my captors lie dead, and there is no evidence to implicate me. It was a favor owed to Dorothea by the captain of the guard. Anything official and he would have been forced to answer to his superiors, who would frown on an alliance between the guard and the Chantry.

I find the building I have been searching for. I stare at the inscription hanging above the door. A financial institution filled with purveyors of gold, its lenders and protectors...those who stole my childhood home by letter of the law after my parents were murdered.

I enter the bank, seeking the office of a man who was once my father's friend. At that time, he'd been a simple records keeper, but he had risen in rank and stature over the years, becoming a lord of land and gold, keeping safe the fortunes of men and women. I am halted by a severe looking woman with her hair so tightly bound I am given to believe that her face suffers.

"I need to speak with Messere Jordaine." I tell her, and her eyes take in my ragged state, my tousled hair, bruised face, split lip. I keep her eyes focused on my face, lest she see the blood starting to stain my side and trousers as it seeps through the stitched skin.

"Messere Jordaine is seeing no one at the moment. Return another time." Her voice is crisp, clear, but I can hear the underlying disdain beneath the veneer of professionalism.

"It is an important matter...concerning family." I inform her, loathe to reveal too much. "Please inform him that Kathyra wishes to speak with him."

She sighs and strides away from me, through the office door. After a moment, she returns, a single strand of hair loose and a miserable flush in her cheeks. "You may enter." She says, curt.

I nod my thanks, stepping into the office, attempting a smile. Guilt washes over Jordaine's face, as it always does when he lays eyes on me. I know he has his regrets, but also that his hands were tied, and by the time his fortunes changed, Marjolaine and I had been stolen by the shadows.

"It has been quite some time, Kathyra." His voice is gravelly and worn with responsibility. "You've not been seen here for nigh on seven months. What brings you back through this door?"

"Hope, Messere." I whisper as my palms begin to sweat. Inches from victory, I feel as though it shall be torn from my grasp, and all my dreams scattered onto the ground, irretrievable. "Hope that you have kept our accord."

Jordaine rises and I see the stoop in his shoulders. Age and time have wearied him.

"You look unwell, child." He says, unlocking the door to the room behind him.

Jordaine walks between shelves filled with scrolls and parchment, boxes of precious things that the wealthy pay to keep hidden and secure. He finds a single scroll and blows years of dust from its surface. The dust cloud makes him cough as he returns to me.

"Is all well, Kathyra?"

I remember our first confrontation, when I had come to him, years after my parent's murder, already being twisted into Leron's image. Without tears, without remorse, I had berated him for the abandonment of his friend's children in their time of need; upbraided him for pursuing his prosperity while leaving others to fall to ruin. Though we had made our accord at the edge of a blade, time had allowed us to, gradually, mend the rift between us to the point where inquiries, such as the one he posed to me now, were allowable.

"No." I give him the truth. "But it will be, as soon as this is settled."

"Are you certain this is still your desire?" He holds the scroll out." I can refund your coin, if that is what you wish. I owe you that much, Kathyra."

"I want this matter ended, Jordaine." I inform him, lifting the pouch from my belt and placing it on his desk. "I came to you many years ago, to earn back what was lost. You were...you were kind enough to hold it in trust for me, and now I will absolve you from your guilt of breaking the law."

"There were many inquiries, Kathyra." Jordaine upends the pouch onto his desk, stunned by the gold that glitters before him. "Maker's breath, my girl...you've this much coin to your name and you tell me that circumstances could be better?" He slumps in his chair, looking exhausted.

"I trust this covers the matter of our debt, Messere Jordaine." I watch as he counts out the remainder of my debt with weathered fingers. The rest he returns to the pouch, and I scowl at him. "Take the appropriate amount, Jordaine. I will not accept charity. Not from you. Not now."

He gestures to the gold before him. "This is the appropriate amount, Kathyra. In full. I've suffered enough keeping this deed in trust for you. It is a mediocre estate, but it lies in a high-traffic, lucrative area of the city. I've fought wars with merchants and nobles alike for that home."

"I understand that, Messere." I tell him, unrolling the deed to my childhood home and adding my signature alongside his, where I had forced him at dagger point to sign, so many years ago. "But it was my inheritance and it was stolen...as was so much more. I have done my share and I regret...I regret my actions during our first meeting. Please accept my apologies, Messere Jordaine, for any unfair grief or trial that I have caused you."

Jordaine lifts his eyes to mine and scrutinizes me, the ire fading from his gaze. "You are a different woman than first I met." He surmises. "There is...there is something changed in your eyes, Kathyra."

"I have found a new life." The barest of smiles lifts my lips as Jordaine applies his official seal to the deed of land, and the house that stood upon it. "And a plan for the future. You will not see me again, Jordaine. I only hope...I only hope that this can assuage your guilt."

"And your sister?" He asks, brows rising and a soft affection crossing his features. "Does little Marjolaine fare as well as you?"

My lips begin to tremble and I extend my hand, taking the deed from him. "Better." I inform him. "She is...she is wealthy in her own right."

"Then rejoice in your good fortune and be on your way." Jordaine dismisses me, a curt note in his voice, as if he is glad to have me out of his life.

"As you wish, Messere."

I rise and walk to the door, my limp more pronounced as my injuries protest the movement. I feel blood soak into my trousers and shirt, but I grit my teeth and continue moving, eager to be free of this place that has held part of my freedom, part of my dreams, prisoner.

"Kathyra." Jordaine calls.

I turn to face him. "Yes, Messere?"

"You are frightfully pale, and you look quite ill, on the verge of collapse. Have someone see to you...for the sake of an old man who once...well...take care, Kathyra."

"I will, Jordaine." I smile at him and exit his offices, the deed to my home burning against my skin with the warmth of hope.

Part the first is complete. Now, I must wait for nightfall...and put that rancorous bitch Dorothea in her proper place.