The Double Bluff

It took five days to get to Bowerstone by foot. By the time they arrived, Jaina's mood had certainly not improved, but she still managed a small, weary smile as she saw a young girl in a brightly-coloured outfit picking flowers by the town entrance, "Rushli."

A familiar face jolted up to hers, startled for a second, and then the expression faded into a broad, delighted grin, and Rushli got to her feet, sprinting towards her, "Sparrow!"

Jaina looked her over, noting the new holes in her ears and the layered skirt that in the last three years since they'd seen each other had seemed to have shrunk a full five inches. "Gods, you've grown. What are you now, fifteen?"

She grinned again, proudly, and nodded, playing with the golden, sequinned sash tied around her waist, "Uh-huh. And I earned my sash."

Jaina smiled a far more genuine smile than the first, amused, eyeing the young girl with a new appreciation. "I see that. Congratulations."

"Thanks. You got a message?"

She gave a one-sided shrug, "That depends. Do you have it?"

The smile slowly faded from the girl's face, leaving an expression far too serious for a child. "Of course." she said, slowly, "But, Sparrow -"

"It's okay. Trust me."

Rushli shifted her weight from one foot to another, uneasily, "I always trust you, Sparrow. But this..."

"I'll bring it right back. I'll give it to Brishan when he comes to meet me. I promise." She still looked hesitant. Jaina took a step forwards, leaning down a little and putting a hand on her shoulder, soothingly, "It's okay, Rushli. I remember what happened last time. Trust me."

She shifted a little, automatically, feeling the scar on her stomach tighten. Wasn't as if she could forget...

"That won't happen again." she completed, firmly.

The girl looked at her for a second, suspiciously, and then sighed, handing her the satchel from her shoulder, "Okay. Here. Be careful."

"Noted. Now." She took a step forwards, pressing a twice-folded piece of paper into the young messenger's hand, "Take this message back to Brishan for me. Go straight back to camp, okay?"

Rushli unfolded it once, curiously, careful not to reveal the message inside, and then shook it. Then she looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

Jaina smiled, dryly, and handed the industrious young girl a gold coin from her purse. Rushli's smile immediately returned, and she dropped into a quick curtsey and then sprinted the way they'd came, towards Bower Lake.

Jaina turned back to the path, continuing into the town. Norman was staring at her, and she shook her head, wryly, "She's a gypsy. Nothing's free for a gypsy."

"What was that about?" he asked, glancing back after the escaping girl, mildly.

"A message for some friends."

"I meant that." he nodded at the satchel over her shoulder.

She shifted the bag into a more comfortable position, hefting it, feeling up its weight, "Insurance."

"Insurance?"

"Insurance."

Norman looked at her for a while, and then sighed, shaking his head, "You're not gonna tell me any more, are you?"

"You don't need to know." she hesitated, and then shook her head, "Call it a contingency plan. You don't need to know the details."

Surprisingly, Norman nodded, "Suit yourself." then he looked back the way Rushli had ran, "That girl. She's from the gypsy camp you grew up in, isn't she?"

"Yes. We passed it on the way in. Up the hill."

Reaver nodded, thoughtfully, glancing back over his shoulder, "So close to the town... You'd think they'd have been chased off by now..."

Jaina shot him a venomous glare, but Norman continued before she could say anything. "What did she mean about earning a sash?"

She paused for a moment, considering her answer. It had been over thirty years since she had ever described herself as a gypsy, but she still felt the ferocious need for secrecy she'd built over twenty years with the community, the men and women that had one point been the closest thing she had to a family.

"A gypsy earns their sash when they complete their first hokkani boro." she replied, slowly.

"Their first what now?"

"They have to scam their first mark."

"Mark? Who are marks?"

She gave him a small, grim smile, "You."

Bowerstone Cemetery was just how she remembered it. After ridding it of the effects of the Normanomicon all those years ago, it had at least returned to silence, but Jaina could still feel the same chill moving over her skin. She suppressed a shiver, tapping her drawn blade nervously against her leg, looking around her, constantly ready for some sort of movement.

There was nothing. The wind blew a light breeze through the long grass, and goosebumps spread across her arms.

They neared Michael's tomb. Jaina broke out into a cold sweat. Her heart pounded in chest, adrenaline pumping through her system. Her fingers twitched towards her blade more often than they were still.

"Restless?" that patronising bastard asked from behind her, a clear smirk to his voice.

She gritted her teeth. For the twentieth time already, she cursed her decision to keep the pirate with her. She had left Norman at The Cow and Corset with strict instructions to not follow them and to try not to attract any more trouble, and he appeared so far to have obeyed. But Reaver... he was already far beyond getting under her skin.

But she was going to have to put up with it for now. So she damned near bit through her tongue to keep herself silent, instead focussing on the small, marble tomb in front of them.

Jaina hesitated once more, and then shook her head, moving towards the entrance. She reached up to the shelf above the door, taking down a large brass key and pushing it into the lock. The lock was well-oiled, and the key practically glided through the tumblers, unlocking the door with barely a sound.

Far too quiet.

Jaina gritted her teeth, returning the key to its perch, slowly, "Stay outside."

"May I ask why?"

She glanced back at him for less than a second before looking back at the large oak door, "I need you to keep watch. He'll still be looking for us."

She didn't add that the pure thought of him standing inside Michael's tomb made her feel physically sick.

Instead, she took in a long, stabilising breath and opened the door.

Twenty-three long years, and she hadn't been here enough for it to quite lose its sting.

They didn't have much time. But still, she gave herself it. Jaina laid a hand momentarily on the sign of the Light by the door, and she looked around the walls, hesitating in front of the low wooden bench.

She hadn't wanted his tomb to be like this. She had tried to convince the stonemason to use something half-normal looking, like slate or sandstone. The mason had explained, so politely and so reverentially, that slate would be almost impossible to weatherproof, and, with the costal weather in Bowerstone, sandstone would erode sooner than a person could blink. He did, however, promise to use only the lightest, non-tombstone-looking marble that he could find. The result was a bright white palace of marble, similar to that you would see in the tomb of a child, or a member of royalty.

Michael would've hated it.

And, as for her, well... the place was more than a little creepy. She'd blasted one of the many carved murals on the walls with a fireball a few weeks after the thing had been built, convinced the angel portrait had been staring at her, but it hadn't helped. The stillness, the silence, was maddening.

It reminded her of the Howling Halls in Westcliff.

She remembered the conversation she'd had with Hannah before they reached the halls. The 'story' she'd told her, and the reaction she'd had to it.

"I heard this one story about these traders who got attacked. Balverines killed both parents, but the kids survived. A slaver found the poor things, took them back to his camp, and locked them up in a cage. That night the kids turned, broke out of the cage, and ripped every slaver in the camp to shreds. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Well. At least there was a happy ending."

"Jaina!"

"Those kids were dead the second they got bitten. At least they took some slavers down with them."

Jaina looked around the walls with a new bout of distaste, and tried to take comfort in the fact that they would both hate it together.

"Hey, Michael." she said, hesitantly, as she sat. She glanced uncomfortably around the marble walls, then reached out to tidy the immaculate little shrine on the bench, mostly to give her restless hands something to do. "Sorry I've been away so long. I've had a fair bit on my plate."

It had been Lily's idea for her to talk to Michael like this. When Jaina had asked her why the hell she would talk to an empty room, Lily had simply replied 'Talking is therapy. Or so I've heard.'

Jaina had scoffed, of course. But one day many years ago, a dark day, she tried it.

And now she found she couldn't stop.

"Seas were rough between here and home for a while. A new group of pirates and mercenaries were stopping all the trade and travel. Me and Lily fixed that, of course, but it's only been recently that I've been able to get here at all. And after that..."

She trailed off. After that, the dreams had come back. She knew well as any doctor that activity helped. It kept the nightmares at bay. Giving herself something to solve, something to struggle against, it soothed her mind, allowed her thought for nothing but the task, nothing but the next step, nothing but the next kill. But when that was gone, her mind was free to return to the past again, and the nightmares had returned with such a severity that it still made her sweat to think about it.

She hadn't come up again after that. In some way, she didn't want to expose Michael to that side of her. The weak side. She had been planning to come up just after Lily's birthday.

But then there was this.

"You haven't seen Lily for a while. I'll bring her next time." she sighed, and then got to her feet again, pacing a little, "Which brings me to why I'm here." her eyes glimmered to the wooden sword case in the centre of the room, placed neatly on top of the empty casket, the one she had managed to avoid looking at until now, "I'm sorry, Michael, but... I'm going to need your sword. I'll bring it back, I promise." she placed two hands on the wood, subconsciously holding her breath. Nothing happened. She glanced up again, "Was there something about this you never told me? You always did say it was powerful beyond its looks." She mused for a second, and then shook her head, deftly unlocking the clasps, "This won't take long; I'll visit again soon, I promise. Love you."

She opened the locks and swung open the case.

It was empty.

Jaina drew her blade, ready, and spun round to the entrance. She gave the thing at the door a savage smile, shaking her head, "Well you took your sweet time."

The shadow on the wall gave a high-pitched laugh, as if delighted to be caught out, and then gave her a deep, mocking bow.

"No surprise, huh?" she gave a bark of a laugh, stepping closer towards it, "Guess you must know me better than to think I'd be caught by a trap as obvious as this."

Puck giggled and then hissed, sliding a few feet closer to her across the wall. It raised a clawed hand, ready to charge a spell, and Jaina smiled, "Not so fast. Recognise this?"

She reached into the satchel on her shoulder and pulled out a circle of metal with small spikes along the outside.

Puck stopped in his place, red eyes frozen on her hand. She showed it to him, raising an eyebrow, "You recognise it, right? Kept it all these years. Always wondered if it would come in handy. Then, when Garth came back from his little vacation for a week or so, I handed it over to him to play with." she took a step closer, nothing short of exhilaration pumping through her veins as he stood there perfectly still, "You know Garth, right? I can hardly see how you couldn't if you've been watching me for as long as you say you have. You know his reputation, at least." she looked up at him, and smiled, slowly, "And damn has he pulled through."

She took another step forwards, and this time the Shadow pulled back with a hiss, raising his hand again, and then glancing at it, quickly, when not the slightest damned thing happened.

"You see," she continued, shifting the collar around in her hand, "I always wondered what sort of magic Lucien used to control our Will in the Spire. Never really made much sense to me, but I knew it came from this collar. And I knew Will suppression barriers - like the one in your master's castle - were theoretically possible." she placed the collar down on the centre table, and then looked back up at him, "There are many Will users in this world now. So many of Lucien's freaks survived the destruction of the Spire. They were still attacking the people of Albion, and their powers made them pretty much unstoppable. So I found myself thinking... what if I could harness the power of that collar on a wider level?" she looked back to the collar, "And, it turns out Garth could."

Sharp pain coursed across her arm, the space she had put between them clearly not quite enough. She twisted, turned, but didn't retreat, instead just looking at the being now back on the wall. She glanced down at the deep claw marks on her arm, and then laughed, looking back up at him, drawing her blade, slowly, "Enjoy it, creature. It's one of the last you'll ever get."

Jaina emerged from the tomb after a not insubstantial time, deep, bloody scratch marks down her cheek and a lopsided, extremely satisfied smile lingering over her lips.

"Good of you to join us again, my dear, but I'm afraid you've missed the party."

She turned, "Still alive, then?" Even that admittedly depressing revelation didn't serve to dampen her mood. She could feel animation running through to her very core.

Reaver shrugged, indifferently, "It appears so, doesn't it?"

"Ah, well. There'll be other times, I'm sure."

"Indeed." the pirate looked her over, "What are you so happy about?"

"Puck." she replied, the memory rekindling her smile.

"What about it?"

"Dead."

"Hm ." he looked her over again, almost curiously, "You really have changed ..."

That, it seemed, served quite enough to dampen her high. Her smile faded, hands clenched, and she turned, quickly, so he couldn't see his effect on her. Instead, she moved over to the nearest corpse, dropping to her haunches to examine the wound pattern, "Seems you've managed to keep yourself occupied."

She could sense a raised eyebrow, "You're not surprised?"

"Of course not." she tugged the mask off the dead man's head, frowning at the unfamiliar face for a second before turning to the next, "As a matter of fact, I was banking on it."

"Thanks for the warning, by the way..."

She shook her head, hands expertly tapping over the next body, removing weapons and checking for hidden tricks, "I told you he'd still be looking for us."

"But not that this was a trap."

She glanced up, shooting him a grim smile, "Well what good is a trap without bait?"

Reaver nodded, thoughtfully, "A trap inside a trap... You make quite the elaborate plans, dear Sparrow."

"Well." she said between breaking a man's fingers to get to a nice-looking dagger, "It didn't all go as planned. You're still alive."

"Evidentially." he replied, idly. He glanced at the bodies around him, "There appeared to be something amiss with their Will. Your doing, of course?"

She shot him a barbaric twist of a grin, "Thought I'd even the playing field a bit ." she got to her feet, wiping her hands on her trousers before surveying the battlefield as a whole, "How many were there?" She counted nine dead. Seemed the Pirate King hadn't lost his touch...

He shrugged again, "Not enough." then he nodded west, "Several scampered off into the hills."

"Good. Give them something to tell their King about."

"What about the blade?"

"Blade?"

He motioned towards the way they'd ran, vaguely, "Gone with our attackers, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that. No matter."

Reaver raised an eyebrow, "I rather thought it was vital to your unspoken plans."

"Michael's blade is, yeah. Fortunately, however, they just scampered away with a lump of pretty steel." the man glanced at her, and she shook her head, gathering her pack from the floor and retreating back down the hill, "Come on, I wouldn't store a real blade underground in a cold, dark tomb."

"It's a replica."

"An exact replica. Now, the King will know that, but, clearly, whoever picked it up didn't. That buys us a little time."

She felt a rustle across her right arm, and consciously forced herself not to start as she turned to see him, again, right beside her, "If the sword's a replica, what exactly were we doing there?"

"Finding answers."

"Which were?"

She paused for a moment, thinking. "He sent Puck. And they took the sword. Lily was right; whatever that blade is... it's worth killing for."

"So where is it?"

She looked at him, and then turned west, nodding, "Bowerstone Castle."

Jaina quite artfully swept past the stuttering guard, ignoring his stammered protests while equally brushing aside the complaints of the man beside her, who Reaver could only assume was some sort of politician.

"Hero -" the man started again.

Sparrow held up a hand, testily, without a break in her stride, and he instantly stopped, "Don't call me that."

"Jaina, then."

"Better. Look, I'm sorry, but I've got to get Michael's old sword back to my daughter in the King of Blades' castle before the Queen breaks her way through the Void and destroys all in her path." she glanced at him, red eyes flashing with annoyance, "I'm busy."

The man blinked, but recovered quickly, "Would you not at least consider -?"

"I've told you before, no."

"You know the position Bowerstone is -"

Sparrow shook her head, frustratedly, "No, Segrit! You know better than anyone that I'm not exactly the most politically minded person out there!"

"The Mayor of Bowerstone is -"

"Then crown yourself a king! For Avo's sake, Bowerstone's done it before, hasn't she?"

"A king?" he repeated, sceptically, "Who on earth would we crown king in this place?"

"Not my concern."

They reached a door, and the man seemed to see this would be his last chance. He straightened his back, putting on a firm, disapproving voice which Reaver was sure Sparrow would just love, "You can't walk away from your heritage forever, Hero."

As predicted, Sparrow spun round, eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised, coolly, "Then how about I cut out your tongue instead? Then, at least, I will not be reminded of it every six seconds." she glanced down at his feet, "Which, by the way, I will do if you follow me for one more step."

Almost instantly, the man backed off, swiftly, eyes a little wide and face a little pale. Sparrow nodded, slowly, "Thank you." and then turned and swiftly made her way through the door.

"That seemed to work." Reaver commented, mildly.

But Sparrow shook her head, darkly, "It won't last long." then she turned a corner and recoiled a little as she bumped straight into a young man in a suit, "Jasper!"

The man nodded, "Madam Jaina."

"There's the man I wanted to see." she put her hands on his shoulders and turned him back around to face the way they'd come from, "Do me a favour - distract them."

The boy looked confusedly at the door before glancing over his shoulder at them, "Madam?"

But she was already backing away, "Just for five minutes, there's a good lad. Thanks!"

And with that, she turned, practically sprinting down the short corridor. By the time she had pulled to a stop, Reaver had caught up, and he looked her over, amused, "You never were any good at diplomacy ..."

She shook her head, firmly, "It's not my concern."

"Maybe you should step up to the plate."

She gave a bark of a laugh, turning into a door, deftly, "Me? Queen? Bite your tongue, Reaver."

"I'd much rather bite yours."

She shot him a frown, but then was distracted as they obviously entered the room she had been looking for - the armoury. She swept past a large collection of swords, crossbows and pistols, of which Reaver had to confess caught his attention ever so slightly, walking directly to an impressive looking sword mounted on the wall in a large glass case.

It was exactly how she'd described it - a large, heavy-looking broadsword with a wide, decorated cross-guard, the blade twisted and curved, as if based on a flame. It was a bulky weapon, not one he himself - or, he was sure, Blade - would make use of. But, he noticed as Sparrow, struggling to take it down, flinched back with a hiss of pain, it was evidentially still sharp. Sparrow shook out her hand, distastefully, flicking blood onto the floor, and then wrenched at the blade again, finally managing to pry it from its case.

Reaver watched, a little curiously, "A question, my dear?"

"I've no doubt you'll ask it anyway..." she muttered, concentrating on the blade.

"If this is truly all you have left of... what was his name?"

Red eyes immediately flickered to his, "Make your point now."

He smiled, but waved a hand, "Wouldn't you have wanted it with you?"

She paused, and then turned, busying herself with finding a sheathe big enough for the massive weapon, "I'd be the last to say my actions are always logical." She paused for a second, "It fit."

"It fit?"

She shook her head, finally settling on a broad, leather back holster, sliding it over her arms and belting it into place, "You wouldn't understand, Reaver, and you'll merely mock me for my sentimentality."

"Perhaps." He watched her struggle with the buckles for a moment, thoughtfully, "This is something you've never spoken of to anybody. Even your dear Lily, isn't that right?"

She looked at him again. The she shook her head and sighed, slipping the monster weapon into the holster, slowly. She looked around herself, "This... this was a place me and my sister dreamed of as children. When I bought this place it was... a symbol. I couldn't live here, not in the walls my sister was killed in. But I bought it to show how far I'd come."

"From street urchin to a woman who could afford a castle?"

But she shook her head again, "Not like that." She started moving once again, heading back the way they'd came, noticeably encumbered by the weapon on her back, "Before Michael... my mind was set only on revenge. He healed me. He was the reason I couldn't kill Lucien. And, mock all you like, but I believe I feel much better for it. I couldn't do it."

"Even now?"

"Even now."

He nodded for a moment, thoughtfully, "Then that's why."

She glanced at him, "Why what?"

"Why you couldn't speak of this to your darling daughter. Considering she believes you were a fool not to have shot him the second you entered the door."

Sparrow looked at him for a second, and then smiled, lopsidedly, "I'm well aware." She hesitated a beat, and then smiled again, "Me and her... differ on many aspects."

"You're disappointed?"

"I could never be disappointed in Lily. She's got something I haven't."

"What's that?"

She didn't reply for a moment, instead concentrating on the floor in front of her. Then she smiled again, looking up at him, "You may not believe this. But if anything at all about our current situation that could be called lucky... it's that Lily is still in that castle."

Reaver almost started. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, "It is?" he asked, having expected anything else.

"You don't know her like I do, Reaver. I know Lily well. My daughter is many things. Arrogant, indolent, dismissive, occasionally out and out insolent. But there's one part of her that no-one can ever truly predict. The one thing I don't have."

"And what's that?"

"Hidden stubbornness. Her absolute force. In that..." Sparrow looked at him, and gave him the first genuine smile he could ever remember seeing from her. "Liliana is unbeatable."