A/N: I know, I know - an update within 2 weeks of its AO3 posting? A miracle! We'll see if I can keep that trend...
Kavrick had seen Valerik in various less than ideal conditions over their decades of friendship. He never went out drinking with the man; Valerik had offered, once, but fortunately had the forethought to see how he could hold his liquor in the Hall before taking him to a bar. The discovery that Kavrick was a very maudlin drunk had quickly shelved any plans Valerik had to add a regular drinking buddy to his Val identity. Kavrick hadn't particularly wanted to accompany Valerik anyway, because he would have felt obligated to stay somewhat sober, so had never pointed out that getting him drunk the week after Fredric was ordained and stationed out of Sunhame had been asking for tears.
Rubbing his face tiredly, he sat down in the chair by Valerik's bedside and let himself breathe. He should probably be helping Lumira ride herd on Her Eminence's Sunsguard, as they were likely growing a little impatient, and Maltin was far from engrossed in his quest for Vanya Flamesinger's compositions now that the Eldest was back and so obviously strained from what he had managed, reminding his student anew of the danger everyone else had been in at various points today. Hells, Fabron and Tristan couldn't be far off, they had verified that the western charity ward had no volatiles relatively quickly and had no reason to stay there, they would be back soon and with the Eldest currently unavailable he was technically in charge.
He would go back out. He just – needed a moment.
Ari bless, when Valerik had staggered out of those flames with Kari, Kavrick had thought his friend was dying, forget what anyone had said. He had looked terrible, not even accounting for the blood that coated his face and entire front, and had been freezing besides. Those years of hauling a less-than-sober Valerik out of sight had come in handy, and fortunately, while Valerik was out of it, he wasn't so far gone that Kavrick had to manhandle him through the entire process of cleaning up and changing into dry clothes. He'd had to do that exactly twice, and each time Valerik had apologetically managed to get his hands on the ridiculously hard to find candied ginger Fredric had gotten him addicted to during all-nighter study sessions that they could have been more effective about using for actual studying.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kavrick counted his breathing.
Holiness Yelena, every bit as terrifying as one would expect out of a person Colbern had once described as an expert at head injuries and the mental strain caused by magical backlash, had been able to ensure Valerik's seizure had no lasting effects. She had claimed he would likely wake up in a few marks, and had warned him that Valerik should avoid using any form of Talent – which had been an interesting way to phrase the warning, since last he had heard there was still some debate as to whether or not magecraft was a Talent – for at least a week, and even then not to do anything more strenuous than a mage-light or setting off pre-crafted spells for another two. Perhaps overly cautious, she had allowed, but in her estimation, the strength of the geas he had been fighting off could very easily have killed him.
He had almost lost his student yesterday. Today he had almost lost his best friend.
Two moons ago he had lost every possible regard for a man he had thought there was a chance he could love.
"This year has been an ordeal," he muttered to no one.
Hearing a rap on the door, he shoved himself to his feet and pulled it open, feeling his breathing ease when Maltin looked up at him, Flamesinger biography clutched to his chest. No panicked running like when the Eldest had first shown up, no shouts of alarm like when Valerik had collapsed into his arms. It was fine.
"Maltin," he murmured, hesitating before offering, "We can go elsewhere, if you'd like, or you can come in."
"Here's fine," his student said quietly, slipping through the doorway when he stepped aside and settling into one of the two chairs while Kavrick shut the door again.
"Is Holiness Valerik going to be all right?" Maltin asked, glancing the sleeping man's way and frowning, "He looks cold."
"He was cold," Kavrick said, smiling wryly and waving to the small stove every one of their rooms held, still radiating warmth and freshly stocked with coal, "I was adding coal and warming bricks for his bed the moment we got the call, it's the middle of winter and he was apparently left underground all night. He'll be all right, Maltin. Holiness Yelena said he should wake up within a few marks at most. Shouldn't do any spellcraft for a week, and nothing more strenuous than a mage light for two."
Maltin nodded, clearly thinking that over, before his student sighed and said wryly, "So we're heading out of Sunhame with him as soon as he can ride?"
Kavrick scoffed, "Definitely not. It's Henrik's turn. Besides, we have our own recoveries to manage."
Maltin winced, glancing at the book in his lap, and Kavrick felt his throat close up, because had Maltin known, about the possible source of his skill with illusions? Of his ability to draw people into feeling what he needed them to through his music?
When Maltin had nearly snared Laskaris in his illusions, the other priest had shaken off the shock and laughed, telling Kavrick he should be proud of his student, and telling his student that he needed to get better at targeting his illusions so random passerby weren't caught up in them. He had pulled Laskaris aside to thank the younger man for his forbearance later, because he knew how much Laskaris hated it when spellcraft of any sort interfered with his mental awareness, but the man had waved it off as a training accident, as something Maltin could learn to avoid doing, and as a promising sign for his future skill level.
When Kavrick had thought Maltin's knack for that sort of magic was just that, a knack, he had thought the same. Had thought it would serve Maltin well and had started strategizing over how he could teach the necessary control and finesse.
But a Talent? He had no idea how to teach that. If it even could be taught, but it must be, because the Eldest and the Enforcer had that mindspeaking Talent and weren't drowning in other peoples' thoughts or constantly projecting their own to the world. But that seemed entirely different from the one Maltin likely had, was that sort of trainability even possible for this musical heart-twisting? Heart-reading, the Eldest had suggested. It was a kind name.
His student was such a kind person.
Would Laskaris still say Kavrick should be proud of his student, when he knew?
"If – if I can't control it. The golden fire. What… what will we do?" Maltin asked, head still bowed.
"You will apparently get very good at whistling," Kavrick said, reaching forward to grab his student's hands, "Maltin, I realize this is hard to believe right now, hells I'm having a hard time believing it, I was so terrified I'd lost you, but this is a good thing. Maltin, without you, we'd have never even thought to reconsider our ideas of Vanya Flamesinger. We'd have never known that sun-blessed steel sings to more than just those with the Eldest and Rodri's Talent – "
His blood ran cold when his student gave a single, shuddering sob.
"I have one, don't I?" Maltin asked, hands shaking but not pulling them from Kavrick's hold, "That's – that's why I can hear it, like they do."
"I…" Kavrick hesitated, knowing his hesitation was answer enough, but he couldn't lie to his student; he had promised Maltin he would never lie to him, though he had reserved the right to refuse to answer.
But he couldn't refuse to answer this. Maltin already knew.
Seras could yell at him for careless treatment of a book later. Kavrick tossed the text aside when Maltin started truly sobbing, hauling his student into his arms and not able to whisper any of the reassurances he normally would, because what could he possibly say?
"I'm here," he finally settled on, carding his fingers through Maltin's hair, short-cropped though it was, "I'm here, Maltin, I've got you."
"I should be dead."
"No!" Kavrick insisted, dropping to his knees in front of Maltin's chair and forcing his student to look at him, grabbing his student's hands again and knowing his grip was white-knuckled, "No, Maltin, no, that's not true!"
"It is!" Maltin insisted, shuddering, tears running down his face still, "I – I didn't know I couldn't have hidden it I never knew and the only reason they never thought to report me as a witch was – was because that would mean I got away from them and that was too much mercy but they should have – "
"Listen to me, Maltin, listen to me," Kavrick interrupted the most horrifying rant he'd ever had to hear come out of Maltin's mouth, including the time his student had listed off the latest round of insults and he'd had to explain what a catamite even was those absolute wretched little worms.
"Maltin," Kavrick started, inhaling shakily and remembering Jaina's horrified realization that she would have burned their Eldest and felt righteous doing it, had she known he was Talented before this year. He had suffered a similar realization when he heard confirmation that Rodri had a Talent, because Rodri had a remarkable ability to make Maltin laugh, and he had been more than a little fond of their Initiate for it.
Had he known Rodri was Talented, even Talented with fire rather than any of the more damning mental Talents, he would have killed him. He would have grieved, and possibly arranged for the death to be by some other means than fire, but he would have killed him.
Even that alternate death would have been practicality, more than mercy.
What would he have done, if he had found evidence – found proof – that Maltin was a musical heart-reader?
"The odds were always against you," he finally said, voice choked, "You were brought in at five, Maltin, that is so young. You have had so many chances to die, and you have gotten past every single one. So when you say you should be dead – if one looked at your situation logically, assessed the hand you were given – yes. You should be dead.
"But you aren't, Maltin, you aren't and perhaps it is mind-boggling to contemplate, all the ways things could have been only a little different, but they didn't go that way and I thank the Sunlord every day for that. I have thanked the Sunlord for your survival since I've known you, and knowing now that there was yet another way you could have died only means those prayers are going to be more ardent."
Pulling his student back into a hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of Maltin's head and murmured, "I am blessed every day to have you as a student. Finding out that you have some sort of – of musically inclined Talent does not change that. We will figure this out, Maltin, I swear to you. We will figure this out, and you will keep living, understood?"
Maltin nodded against his shoulder, and he decided he'd take it. Looking up from his student, he caught sight of Valerik, awake and propped up on one arm to stare at them, a worried expression on his face. Kavrick knew he should give the man some sort of reassuring smile, some sort of indication that things were all right, but his student had just had an entirely understandable breakdown and regardless of his words he had no idea what they were going to do, what they even could do aside from what they were already doing, and he just couldn't.
Valerik, fortunately, always knew just how to snap him out of a mood.
"Can you lot cry quieter?" the man grumbled, flopping back on his pillow and expression losing all traces of concern and worry while Maltin shoved himself back and scrambled to his feet.
"Oh please, like you didn't wake half the complex with your sobbing when Henrik burned your alcohol stash and claimed it was to help Laskaris practice for his Second Order Trial," Kavrick scoffed, rising and feeling a pang of worry when Maltin pressed close to his side and didn't try to step away when he wrapped an arm around his student's shoulders.
Valerik's eyes narrowed, undoubtedly catching the same thing, and his tone went as soft as it ever went barring literal kittens as he said, "You look terrible, kid."
"You're one to talk," Maltin scoffed, both priests letting his shaky voice slide for the moment, too relieved he at least still felt comfortable enough around them to banter, "You look like death warmed over."
"He usually does," Kavrick said dryly.
"See if I ever try to be comforting again," Valerik snorted, and Kavrick was about to snipe back when he saw Valerik shiver.
"Still cold?" he demanded, Maltin stepping away from his side and snagging the book off the ground before they earned Seras' eternal wrath by stepping on it or kicking it aside.
"Bit," Valerik grumbled, pulling the blankets Kavrick had piled on him further up his shoulders, "Fuck, I'm lucky I didn't end up with frostbite."
"Last night was on the warmer side, but it could have happened," Kavrick agreed, pressing the back of his hand to Valerik's forehead and grimacing, "You're still a little cool to the touch, that's less than ideal – "
A hideous knit hat smacked Valerik in the face and the man spluttered, Kavrick cackling at his expression and definitely not dissolving into hysterical giggles while he tried to shove it onto Valerik's head.
"Ah hells, Kavrick," he heard Valerik mutter, feeling the man sit up and grab him in a hug, regardless of his shivering.
"This year has been a disaster," Kavrick managed, burying his face in Valerik's shoulder, "Mostly a good disaster, but some pieces…"
"Yeah, I could have done without the whole Loshern proves me right about being a waste of space bit myself," Valerik grumbled, "Forget this whole Oathbreaking frame job seizure disaster. How long have I been out?"
"Not too long," Maltin said, Kavrick feeling the edge of the bed sink when Maltin sat down next to them, "Holiness Yelena healed you, says you can't do magic for a week, and nothing stronger than a mage light for two."
"Yelena? Colbern's Yelena? Is she as terrifying as we thought?"
"She is," Kavrick said, sitting upright and smirking, "She's also young enough to be his daughter, so I think you lost that bet."
"Damn it, of course I did," Valerik muttered, wincing as he leaned back against the wall, tucking a blanket around his shoulders and settling the hat Maltin had found properly, "Still, a real healer. Didn't think I'd ever rank one of those."
"I think they're allowed to pick who they treat themselves now," Kavrick reminded him, "Or at least they're not restricted from healing anyone, should they want to. You nearly died, Valerik."
"I know," Valerik admitted, gaze dark, "Being honest, Kavrick, didn't think I'd make it out when I told Nolans to take that fucking bracelet off my wrist. Figured the spells were killing me as it was, I had a better chance at living if it was gone, but with that strong a geas? I figured it'd kill me, and with any luck the shields that kept people from finding me would go with it. I couldn't even remember Kari was an option until the bracelet was gone, pain was so bad."
"Damn it," Kavrick swore, clenching his fists in his own vestments, knuckles white, "I really could have lost both of you."
"Eh. If Maltin had died yesterday, I wouldn't have gone out to drink, give me some credit, I'd be drowning my own tears here," Valerik said, nudging the acolyte with a faint smile and switching the topic entirely, "What book are you looking at? Looks like a Flamesinger text? Any new theories? I'll bet Flamesinger had the same Talent you do, not that I have any idea how we'll prove it."
"Oh," Maltin said, sounding startled and staring at the book in his hands, "I… I didn't. Think of that."
"Well it's either that or the one Rodri and the Eldest have, with that obsession with sun-blessed steel, and if Flamesinger had that Talent I don't think there'd be so much emphasis on him using instruments in his adventures, he would just make fire happen," Valerik pointed out, shrugging, "It's just a thought though. He was long enough ago, who knows. Anyway, theories?"
"I think – some of his compositions were trying to make the same song as sun-blessed steel?" Maltin offered, Kavrick immediately intrigued and knowing Valerik felt the same.
"Oh really?" Kavrick prompted, "Which ones?"
Valerik dozed off partway through Maltin's explanation, and Kavrick honestly only knew as much about music as he did because of Maltin's own interest so most of what Maltin was saying about timing and oddities in the arrangement and tune flew right over his head. But his student was sounding properly animated after a few minutes of explaining, and that was more than enough to keep him interested.
Hopefully the Eldest or his Enforcer had some idea how to train musical heart-reading. He wanted to let Maltin sign up for as many music classes as his student's schedule could fit.
=pagebreak=
Corporal Mikel Ashler had been having a very interesting year, and today promised to put a proper feather in the whole thing, particularly given the Fourth Court messenger who'd been waiting at the Sector Station when his squad finally returned after the most exciting few marks he'd ever spent at a Temple, including his little sister's wedding. He had never thought Darius Vars would actually be charged for his crimes. Certainly not before the reforms, and even afterwards he had been rather resigned to the fact the man would get away with what he had done. With what he was likely still doing.
But now?
Orders for Vars' arrest had been issued, signed by a First Order Justicar, a First Order Justicar he'd seen talking to two Firecats and the Enforcer who'd manifested the Voice of Vkandis Sunlord with some sort of Rite even the Firestarters he'd been working alongside had spoken of with awe – and, if he wasn't mistaken, if he wasn't completely off-base –
He hadn't said anything. Wouldn't say anything, until it was confirmed. But he was pretty sure the one non-uniformed man standing near the Justicar's group had been Sergeant Nolans. Seeing his once-Corporal standing with a Justicar – standing with a Justicar and being listened to, to all appearances – it was a good sign. It was an excellent sign, and not only because if anyone would have had enough information to get charges to properly stick to that bastard Darius Vars it was Mikel's former superior.
If charges did stick, if whatever had kept Corporal Nolans from getting the appeal he was entitled to had actually gotten worked around or through… he might finally have a chance to at least try and pay the man back. The debt he owed his former Corporal was one he'd never be able to truly repay, but he had to try. He had tried, had tried to get people to listen to him when he said Garth Nolans was more than Darius Vars' right hand. Had never been Darius Vars' right hand, not really.
But no one would believe him. He had been transferred out of that squad within two moons of being transferred in, and Corporal Nolans had thrown so much effort into getting him out that his records had emerged with enough questions and smudges that he had spent six years in the Outer Eighth with a promotion to Senior Patrolman only in the last two. Before Her Eminence, before everything in the upper echelons of Karse changed to practically unrecognizable overnight, he had expected another six years before he ever got promoted to Corporal, if he ever did. He could probably have made it faster, have been promoted in a timely fashion rather than as a last resort, if he had transferred, but all his family was here in the Eighth.
Instead, within a moon of Captain Marghi taking the reins, he'd been called in and debriefed on what the hell was up with his records and been promptly promoted to Corporal because apparently he was long overdue. The Captain had even flat out admitted that Mikel would have gone straight to Sergeant if Captain Marghi hadn't thought the jump would be too much to for Mikel to manage after so many years of carefully stomped out ambition.
As it was, he knew exactly what getting sent out as one of three Corporals in a cluster of two squads with one Sergeant meant, and it had only been three moons since he'd made Corporal but finally he once again wanted. He had dreamed of being a Sergeant, once. Had once dared to imagine being a Lieutenant, getting a chance to be Shift Lead, but he had let those dreams die years ago and considered them the price of escaping Darius Vars, and a price he was more than willing to pay a thousand times over.
Corporal Nolans had saved him, and it had taken until Mikel's own promotion to Corporal to truly realize what sort of favors his former superior had to have burned through to get him out, all on a weakly worded request to perhaps not get assigned shifts with Vars alone, because he had sisters.
Corporal Nolans had a sister too.
Flexing his fingers as he passed the testimony copy to the dockyard warehouse worker who'd been used by the Oathbreaker as a means of covering for smuggling and covering for mysteriously appearing corpses, he scrawled out the reference number and name of the witness on his own tally sheet of people who might have been adjacently involved in the charity temple complex issue. This man didn't know exactly what the containers he was supposed to miscount contained, but the warehouses were told if potentially volatile things were stored in them, and he had been told to miscount a stack of 'handle with care' containers a few times in the last moons. Better than even odds, if Mikel had to put a number on it.
Tallies of those witness reports was one column on his scrap paper, the rest was an outline of things to include in his own report and things he wanted to research or ask about after he'd written his formal report up. One thing about all the upheaval lately, people were a lot more willing to answer and ask questions about processes and procedures and the why behind those things. With as much had shifted and was still shifting, they had to ask. Besides, he highly doubted anyone knew what the proper terminology was for 'suspect captured by intervention from the Sunlord Himself', it wasn't like they could ask the Sunlord to write a report of the capture for cross-referencing! Hells, figuring out how to properly reference whatever reports the Firestarters wrote up would be awkward enough, if Firestarters even wrote reports for them to cross-reference…
Fortunately, he was only a Corporal on track to be promoted to Sergeant. Those problems were definitely the Captain's.
The dockyard worker, who had given his name as Niel, no surname, was mouthing the words to himself as he went. He didn't seem to be struggling to read it overmuch, so Mikel didn't offer to get one of the other men working as testimony takers to read it aloud. He'd only taken down four testimonies so far, and had yet to call on someone to do a read-back instead of a read-through by the witness themselves, but Outer Eighth or not, this was Sunhame. Most people were reasonably literate.
Reaching the end, the man nodded and said, "Agree with it, Corporal."
"All right. Sign at the bottom, and I'll sign after you. Would you like a copy?"
"Yes, Corporal."
Mikel nodded agreeably and pulled a fresh piece of paper over, giving his hand one last shake before picking up his pen and starting on the heading for a witness-owned copy of verified testimony. Even without today's insane amount of writing, he had been spending some time every evening practicing writing with his off hand. Seeing Corporal Nolans write reports with alternating hands had put the idea in his head back when he was first starting out in the Sunsguard, though it had taken until this past year for him to actually follow through on it. Senior Patrolmen didn't have much paperwork to do on their own, after all.
He was still nowhere near good enough to use his off-hand for writing official documents, but he was definitely getting better.
Halfway through the copy, he heard shouting from outside and deliberately set his pen aside, as he'd rather not startle and blot ink all over his writing and have to start over again –
Even with the heads up he jumped half-out of his skin when the front door slammed open, the Captain's raised voice sending all of the Sunsguard in earshot to attention –
" – every last one of his willing accomplices and I'll be damned if any of them get away, he is going to be taken in properly and questioned thoroughly. If he dies or is crippled or that goal is in any way compromised under my watch I will arrest the person responsible for being one of those accomplices!"
He had literally only ever heard the Captain shout once in the moons since he'd first taken over the Station and that had been a call to attention in a crowded briefing. Whoever had prodded the Captain into that sort of cold rage was very likely sincerely regretting their decision to open their mouth, Mikel was half-regretting having to hear it.
The Captain finally crossed the threshold after Senior Lieutenant Bron and the unconscious man they were hauling between them and his furious gaze swept the completely silent station before demanding, "Do I need to repeat myself or is my sentiment understood?"
"Understood, sir!" they chorused, snapping off salutes that the Captain couldn't return, arm hooked under the unconscious man's shoulder as it was, but that he at least nodded in acknowledgment of.
"Is that Vars?" Sergeant Oskar managed, voice strangled.
"Yes," the Captain said shortly, speaking straight over the rash of whispers and mutters and shocked oaths that broke out at that confirmation, "Patrolman, you're from Fourth Court. Orders for Vars' arrest included in your messages or not?"
"Ah – they were, Captain," the messenger said, offering a salute and looking a little startled at the question and the foreknowledge it implied, "Orders for Vars' arrest and details on handling testimony regarding the Oathbreaker. Announced them to your men, sir, seeing as people had already arrived to offer that testimony."
"Appreciated," the Captain said, eyeing a pair of soldiers without anyone offering testimony at the moment and saying, "I'm stealing that desk."
Mikel had to sit down again, couldn't spend his entire time drinking in the sight of Darius Vars arrested, actually caught. He had a job to do. But he still watched for a few moments more, as the Captain shoved Vars into a chair and hooked his bound arms over the back, accepted the set of scrolls from the Fourth Court's patrolman, told the civilian man who'd followed him in to offer testimony to the two soldiers he'd stolen the desk from if the man would be so kind, and ordered Senior Lieutenant Bron to sit down and breathe for a few moments before heading out for his next task, whatever that was.
The Captain's face was bleeding. Looked like someone had clawed his cheek. He didn't seem to care at all, and was very definitely keeping one eye on Vars at all times.
Finally, Mikel had to tear his gaze away, and he found his witness staring at him with as much terrifyingly wild relief – as much hope – as he himself felt. Hopefully he was a little less obvious. But perhaps it didn't matter if he wasn't. Let the man recognize the same thing in him, know that it wasn't just civilians who'd lived in terror of Vars' reach.
He'd never dared dream Darius Vars would actually be caught.
"I'd like to add some things to my testimony, Corporal," the dockyard worker admitted.
Mikel had to grin, even if that meant he had to rewrite everything again. He'd rewrite every report he'd ever filed in his life if it meant Darius Vars stayed caught.
They were halfway through the rewrite of Niel's testimony – nothing trutly changed, but some details the man had carefully danced around or glossed over were fleshed out, were added, now that he didn't have Vars' presence hanging over his head – when another set of people entered aside from the seemingly never-ending stream of people forming the queue for offering testimony against the Oathbreaker.
"Papa!"
Senior Lieutenant Bron gave a gutted sob at the shout, Mikel watching as Gari slammed into the Senior Lieutenant's arms with tears running down his own face as he promised, "It's gone the curse is gone they can't make me sick anymore it's okay papa, I'm okay."
Mikel had to put his pen over his scrap paper when that properly registered, when he truly realized what little Gari was saying. His nephew was Gari's age, they were even playmates, though that was irregular, given how frequently he was ill. Dangerous to let your kids play with someone ill so regularly for their own sake, forget worries on Gari's parents' end about their son being exposed to something.
Apparently, very little of that sickliness had been natural.
"Ah hells. And he still arrested Vars?" he heard Niel mutter, sounding a perfectly understandable mix of horrified and impressed. He could see more than a few people blanching, giving the family sympathetic glances, ducking their heads and looking ashamed. The Captain grabbed the Fourth Court's messenger and hauled him to stand where he'd block Vars' sight of the small family if he woke up anytime soon. Or at least give them a chance to get the family out of there if Vars woke up anytime soon; Mikel was definitely praying the man remained unconscious until safely in Fourth Court's custody – hopefully whoever the Captain had sent with word of Vars' capture was moving fast.
"Mistress Jana," the Captain greeted one of the two women who'd followed Bretta and Gari in, and the moment Mikel heard her name he realized why she looked familiar. Val and Jana were more than a little infamous in the Outer Eighth Sector Station, after all. "You found your brother then?"
"Maude's brother found my brother, Captain, but he has been found at least. Not entirely sure why the Oathbreaker thought the two of them were the best people to frame for this whole destroy the charity temple plot, but fortunately that's for the Justicar to figure out," the famously younger-and-more-sensible Jana said, certainly sounding very sensible.
"Oh it sounds like a very nested plan," the Captain agreed, apparently having heard things about whatever this plan involved beyond destroying a charity temple. The target definitely implied politics were involved somehow, and thank the Sunlord that was definitely not his problem to deal with and Blessed Souls watch over the Captain while he dealt with it. Mikel wouldn't trade places with him for all the gold in the District.
With that in mind, he focused back on his actual job, catching Niel's gaze and murmuring apologies for taking so long.
The dockyard worker grinned at him and said quietly, "Oh don't apologize, Corporal. I'll be getting free drinks for this story the rest of the winter!"
=pagebreak=
Her brother's fires had been subsiding, so far as Solaris had been able to tell. Fewer proper flames, though still plenty of shortlived sparks, and those that did bloom to full flame faded quickly. There had been flares, sharp spikes in activity and intensity, which she suspected were in direct response to whatever Kir was hearing from Anur about the ongoing investigation, but in between those surges things had been steadily calming.
At least until a few moments ago.
"Kir," she said gently, watching as cords of fire crawled over their outstretched legs and the Firecat sprawled across them, "Hearing about this ongoing investigation is hardly restful. Your fires are growing stronger again."
Her brother flinched away, and Solaris hurriedly caught him around the shoulders and pulled him back to rest against her shoulder, murmuring, "Easy, brother. If they grow stronger, they grow stronger. But if this is due to stress, I would prefer to stop seeking out stressful things. Your brother can handle himself. If he needs aid, he will call. Or Aelius will call on his behalf, at the very least."
Solaris smiled at her brother's laugh, and felt her smile widen when fires started winking out without being immediately replaced. Better. Not as good as it had gotten before Kir started hearing something consistently and unceasingly distressing, but better.
"You understand Aelius and Anur disturbingly well, for having first spoken to Aelius yesterday," Kir commented, voice still a little raspy.
"I am rather familiar with the behavior of ardently protective brothers dealing with overly self-sacrificing siblings," she replied pointedly, but didn't quite manage to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Kir paused, before carefully letting more of his weight rest against her side as he murmured, "Apologies, sister."
She snorted, shaking her head and retorting, "For what, managing to save innocent lives and drag a nest of corruption and extortion into the light, all before noon? You have nothing to apologize for. I simply worried, and hearing you say you would be strained and injured is entirely different from seeing you under so much strain and so recently injured. The fact I can do nothing to help makes it worse. The fact that I missed this – "
"We're all going to be kicking ourselves for missing things we had no reason to notice without the benefit of hindsight," Kir interrupted, sounding truly exhausted, "Let's not start doing that now."
Undoubtedly, Solaris knew, her brother already was.
"A distraction, then," she said firmly, "Something utterly unrelated to today's disaster. Give me a moment to think of something."
"I have something," Kir offered, and she raised an eyebrow, hearing grief in his voice.
"This does not sound like something undistressing," she protested.
"But it is important, and time sensitive," Kir countered, choking on a cough and hurriedly turning away from her and leaning over gravel, Solaris hastily hooking her arm around his torso and taking a fair bit of her brother's weight as he pinched his nose. Blood clot must have come loose. It was a good thing he had insisted on getting out of his vestments. She had initially protested because they were at least wool; his standard issue Sunsguard uniform was winter weight, certainly, but without any of the associated outerwear it wasn't particularly warm in and of itself. At least with this much fire in the air they had some insulation, and Kari was an excellent Cat-sized blanket. So long as she could keep her brother from deciding he didn't need to sit next to her, they should be all right. Barring too much more blood loss, at least.
Grimacing as she waited for her brother to decide to try and sit up straight again, she murmured, "Speak of darkness and it comes. Are you going to be all right, Kir? This is – rather extreme."
"You didn't see me after the Comb Fire," Kir retorted hoarsely, "This strain is – not quite as bad, I would say. But I wasn't physically injured, it was only strain from my Talent. The combination is the problem."
:Aelius said the Comb Fire was similarly difficult, but different enough in mechanism he couldn't properly compare the efforts. You'd know best,: Kari admitted, still sounding worried, :Knowing it could be worse really doesn't help though.:
"It never does," Kir replied wearily, slowly moving his hands away from his face and not quite sighing in relief when the new clot evidently held. Solaris waited a few moments longer before pulling him back up to lean against her shoulder again.
"Your Conclave's meals have already been arranged, haven't they?" Solaris asked, eyeing the handkerchief that Holiness Lumira would certainly not be getting back, "You've lost a fair bit of blood today."
"There's some sort of meat tonight I think, and I have nut-based ration bars I can eat before then," Kir said, reaching for his mug and making a face when he took a sip, continuing, "Honestly I don't know much about the Conclave beyond the writings of formal procedure and what others have told me. Logistics wise, I asked Jaina what I needed to do for the Conclave a few moons ago and she told me that aspect was nearly entirely hands-off on our part, she simply confirms a head count to the appropriate people a few weeks ahead of time and food and the like arrives as needed."
"Fair enough," Solaris said, admitting ruefully, "You know well how to take care of yourself, brother, I just – I worry. And of all my Councilors you are certainly the most injury prone!"
"Here's hoping you didn't curse them," Kir chuckled, and Solaris groaned.
"You and I both know that is not remotely how curses work, but I certainly understand the thought process behind that belief! Hopefully not, I think Anur has cursed us more than enough for this year."
"True, but the year is almost over…"
"The clear solution is to change our timekeeping system! The years are now counted at Midsummer," Solaris declared, tossing her head exaggeratedly. If Kir was feeling up to teasing, that was only to be encouraged, "That should get us through quite a few events without complications."
"Hardorn invading and Valdemar? I think you are asking a little too much, Solaris," Kir replied dryly.
"Oh I know, and Ulrich would be the first of a line of scholars to have my head for changing the timekeeping system so abruptly, but it is a nice dream," Solaris said wistfully, before shaking her head and resting her cheek against her brother's hair, saying quietly, "Right then. Something time sensitive and important, though distressing. No chance we can postpone that and discuss something that won't distress you further?"
"I think the latter is asking too much again," Kir murmured, next inhale worringly shaky before he continued, "In Valdemar, they have what is called mind-healers. I don't know what exactly that means, but there is some form of trained heart-reading involved. Perhaps other things. Would soul-healing serve a similar need?"
"Hmm. Without speaking to a mind-healer so Talented, I can't say for certain," Solaris said, intrigued at the idea. It was certainly a societal need, and one that supposedly priests and priestesses were trained to fill, if without Talents to assist them. Finding priests and priestesses who actually could fill that societal need was another matter entirely, especially with as many people who undoubtedly needed that sort of assistance in these chaotic times.
Though if Kir was focusing on the Talent aspect he could be missing a key point of what her answer relied on.
"Kir, counseling members of your congregation can provide some of that healing you are speaking of," she pointed out, "Not so quickly or efficiently as someone with a Talent might be able to, with only being able to use words, but trauma can be worked through with no Talent to assist at all, sometimes at least."
"Yes, because so many come to a Firestarter for counseling," Kir retorted, which she did not protest only because he managed to continue before she found the right words, admitting, "I think there were classes on that, for pastoral priests? Red robes?"
"Some black robes as well, it wasn't restricted based on field," Solaris corrected, feeling more resigned than furious at the holes in her brother's education, holes he had never even been allowed to try and fill, "You never got to take those."
"Definitely not," Kir said, huffing a laugh, "Though to be honest considering the previous regime – those could go very badly."
"Oh I wouldn't say they were particularly helpful all of the time, but they put us in contact with people to discuss ideas and experiences with," Solaris agreed frankly, "Some of the instructors were good, some were less than, as is the usual. Curriculum redesign has been a project there too. Everywhere, really, though some less than others. Back to the soul-healers versus mind healers bit – Anika Brersi is a soul-healer. Ulrich is as well, and I am capable of it, though never formally trained as such. Exorcists in particular are trained to do a soul-healer's job without that… well. I do not think it is a Talent, as we are calling them. Without that knack, I suppose. It takes longer without it, does not heal quite as thoroughly as it might for a gifted soul-healer, but it can be done. It requires – more trust, between the victim and the healer, than the gifted individual might need. A person with that knack would be able to affect healing without building a true rapport, though of course that rapport would assist."
She could go on, of course, it was a fascinating idea to puzzle out the potential differences and similarities between what they called soul-healing and what the Valdemarans apparently called mind-healing, but Kir had asked for a time sensitive reason that she had yet to hear about.
"What brought this up?" she prompted, "I suppose you're wondering what we have that could fill in for a mind-healer?"
"Mental scars caused by a heart-reader gone mad," Kir said lowly, "Who would be most effective for healing those? Aelius said a trained to heal heart-reader, which is obviously not an option, but Kari says a soul-healer could work, who are our options in Sunhame?"
"Hmm. How dire is the situation?"
"Scars are from a suicide compulsion done years ago, the man only survived because I showed up in time to stop him. Thoughts of suicide occur too frequently and are very hard to turn aside ever since," Kir replied, shuddering, and Solaris was hard pressed not to echo it, "I never followed up after that first meeting. I should have, curse it all, but it didn't occur to me there would be lasting after effects."
:Why would it?: Kari inserted, tone pointed and evidently knowing far more about this situation than she did, :Anur was caught up in it, Aelius was caught in it, as were Devek Koshiro and Balin Sescha! None of them had after effects, or at least if they did they weren't ever brought up to you. Why would you assume one out of five had lingering trauma when four out of five showed no signs of further issues?:
Those few details were enough for her to know dodging this topic wasn't possible, and she sighed, cutting Kir off mid-retort with a wry, "You are not going to like my answer."
Her brother paused, lifting his head to stare at her and looking unfortunately wary, "What are you talking about?"
Perhaps if she guided him to the proper conclusion, he would have fewer objections. Unlikely, of course, but possible. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "What do four out of the five unaffected victims have in common, Kir?"
He looked genuinely confused, before finally hazarding a guess, "Ah… I know them better?"
"Blessed Souls lend me strength," she muttered, giving up on guiding him to any sort of answer and saying bluntly, "Kir. They were with you. My list of available soul healers in Sunhame has your name on it."
"That's not possi – "
"Kir," Solaris interrupted, voice stern, and she felt her heart break when her brother flinched away at her tone. At the topic she had brought up.
Exhaling slowly, she tipped forward to rest her brow against his and was heartened to see him smile at the gesture she had most definitely stolen from watching him and Anur interact, saying quietly, "There is a difference, brother, between humility and lack of self-awareness. It took me far too long to realize that far too often, you fell into the latter. At least when it comes to realizing the good that you are capable of, the good that you do."
"I'm not a healer," Kir said quietly.
"You help your unit's medic treat injuries," she pointed out, "You removed bishra from the lungs of well over fifty people."
"That's not healing, that's - !"
"Healing is a process," Solaris interrupted, wanting to drive her point home, "What Holiness Yelena and Holiness Coric can do is one way to help that natural process along. The magecraft Holiness Jaina is trained to use alongside stiches and ointments is another. The removal of poisons and drains, easing pain – all of those are other ways to help that process along. Soul-healing is separate from all of that."
Kir was shaking.
"I'm not a healer," he repeated.
Solaris had no idea how to reach him. No idea how to truly explain what she was trying to say without running into her brother's thrice-damned belief that the Sunlord would only ever smile upon him as an ultimate last resort.
That deeply entrenched belief had been the main reason she hadn't informed him of his position as her successor, should the worst happen. Oh certainly, she had considered the point moot after Hansa's arrival, but it had not taken long after their second in-person meeting to realize that what she had thought of as humility, as a virtuous trait that would serve him well, was in fact a genuine belief that any sign of the Sunlord's favor had nothing to do with him. Telling him he was her successor, should the worst occur, that he was the emergency back up plan to keep their revolution on track, would only reinforce that, did only reinforce that. Left him believing that the Sunlord would favor him only when there were no other options.
Even claiming that would end in arguments; the only explanation for the clear signs of the Sunlord's favor that Kir would accept were those focusing on the righteousness of the causes Kir pursued, on the fact that he was acting in her name and for her benefit. It had nothing to do with him. Her other Councilors had not helped; when they had ended up explicitly discussing the fact he was no longer to be considered her successor, thanks to Hansa's presence, their cheerful agreements to Kir's wry words about the sort of revolution his Ascent would have implied had left no room for doubt. None of them – none of them – realized how well Kir could have done. Would have done, had he been called to. They all genuinely believed the only reform Kir could lead would be one of blood and ashes.
Her reforms were being enforced with blood and ashes. Her Ascent had been paved with blood and ashes. She could not save everyone, no matter how she tried, today's fiasco was more than proof enough of that, and a very dear reminder that there were quite a few people she had not and would not bother to try and extend a hand to. There was only so much time and effort to spare. Yet somehow, it seemed that her Council members including Kir assigned him responsibility for the violence her reforms had caused. They described actions done in her name and under her authority and sometimes even under her explicit mandate as things Kir was entirely responsible for. She had been trying to redirect that line of thought, felt she had been making progress on it, yet today had shown that whatever progress she had thought she made was nowhere near enough.
Kir's Conclave would keep him out of the way for a few days, and give her the chance to assemble the Council without him. He would only be further hurt by what she suspected she would end up hearing, and having a chance to bleed off some of that poison before bringing Kir in to help work out a resolution to the whole mess could only be beneficial.
If it meant she could sit down with Ulrich and figure out a way to properly frame soul-healing as a burden rather than a sign of favor, all the better. At least that Kir would accept.
"I am not explaining this properly," Solaris said quietly, "And only distressing you further. I will speak to Ulrich and the others I know as soul-healers and ask them about treating suicide compulsions in general."
:I can provide some relief for the Captain, and have already said that I will,: Kari said, a literal avatar of their God rubbing his head against Kir's hand.
Not favored by the Sunlord at all, obviously. Brothers!
"And I have offered to try and figure out teaching mental shielding to non-Talented so he can at least be safer from any similar assaults, Sunlord forbid he encounter one," Kir said, a faint smile on his face at the Firecat's gesture and carding his fingers through Kari's fur, "But I would prefer the man entirely healed."
"Of course," Solaris agreed, "But that will give us time to find someone who can help. Perhaps even time to get details on mind-healing from someone in Valdemar? You know a Valdemaran healer, right?"
"Healer Joss, yes," Kir said, smiling wryly and near visibly seizing onto the change of topic, "I'll ask him when I see him next, which will undoubtedly be soon. Anur insists I get checked over by him when we're back in the 62nd."
"I can't blame him," Solaris said, narrowing her eyes as she continued, "Punctured lungs are nothing to take lightly, Kir. As you apparently already knew."
"It was years ago, Solaris," Kir said, rolling his eyes at her before dropping his head against her shoulder again, and she took the signs of his growing ease with their conversation with a sigh of relief. They'd have to discuss this soul-healing matter again, but it could wait. She knew enough to start looking for answers.
"Hells, that first puncturing is what pulled Healer Joss in," Kir was commenting, "Which is the only reason we had a shot at saving Herald Lenora, and he's offered some excellent treatment options to Senior Lieutenant Janner which have certainly saved lives in the 62nd. So a net positive."
Solaris decided to prompt another change in topic. If she had to listen to her brother explain how very nearly dying and certainly very nearly crippling himself was most definitely a good thing, she'd be hard pressed to keep from shaking him, and he was hurting too much for that. She was a little too tired to try and do this subtly though.
"New topic!" she announced, "It cannot have injuries involved at all, and cannot be distressing!"
"Hmm. Have I shown you my new Sun-in-Glory?"
"No!" Solaris replied, feeling immediately intrigued. Kir was not one for trappings of rank, and she had honestly expected him to find another one of the standard issue Sun-in-Glories to replace his previous one.
"I can't show it to you now, Anur has it," Kir said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Well you can't not tell me about it," she protested, possibly exaggerating her insistent tone, "I'm intrigued! What is so special about it? Is there anything special about it or are you just trying to distract me with a story about a standard-issue Sun-in-Glory?"
"I should say it's the latter, but I'm very proud of Rodri and it has an intriguing story attached to it so I won't," Kir said, "Rodri made it with assistance from Forgemaster Axeli, using eight sun-blessed steel arrowheads as the rays. It's beautiful Solaris, and the conglomeration of the sun-blessed steel into one piece has changed it somehow, or at least – there is something different about that piece, as opposed to the spear and arrowheads we've worked with otherwise."
"I've tried meditating with the spearhead you gave me," Solaris admitted, "I might have heard that tune you mentioned. I felt like I heard something but it didn't seem to match what you described."
"We'll have to try out the Sun-in-Glory then," Kir decided, "But don't hum along."
"I look forward – wait, why?" Solaris asked, brow furrowing and casting a definitely laughing Kari a confused glance, "Does something happen when you hum along?"
"Well, I can't say I've tried it," Kir said, "Though I plan to. But Maltin? Nearly set the library on fire humming along with what he heard. I suspect it's that heart-singing Talent we've mentioned, the one the Valdemarans call Bardic. He definitely has that Talent, at least."
"Truly?" Solaris asked, fascinated. Sun-blessed steel had never been something she'd considered beyond its occasional reference in stories. She would certainly never have guessed a Rite-forging would be the key. If someone had asked her for a theory, she would have assumed a standard weapons blessing done for a cause the Sunlord smiled upon would be sufficient. When Kir and Anur had first mentioned sun-blessed steel to her she had been terribly annoyed that their meeting's agenda was packed. Even moons later and with a sun-blessed steel spearhead in her possession, she had not had near enough time discussing the Rite her brother had recreated and the sacred artifacts that resulted from it.
"It was very dramatic," Kir said tiredly, but with a strong enough undercurrent of amusement she didn't feel obligated to insist he stop talking and rest, "Issues emerged in the aftermath, of course, but the discovery itself is fascinating."
"Yes, issues, I can certainly guess some of those," Solaris winced, because heart-reading or singing were certainly the sorts of Talents the old regime would have been so very determined to burn out, "Well let's not discuss them, that is far from restful. But! Sun-blessed steel, brother I have so very many questions for you – but before I ask questions, tell me about this forging Rite you say you found."
:Recreated,: Kari spoke up, Kir groaning at the Cat's word and protesting, "Kari! Rediscovered is perfectly accurate – "
:Eldest, it truly is not,: Kari interrupted, butting his head against Kir's ribs, :Unless you forgot the provenance of a key text, which I doubt, you did not have much more than scraps of stories and songs to work with. The most detailed monograph we have on sun-blessed steel spends more than half its text on properly respectful maintenance of already forged relics!:
Glancing over his shoulder at Solaris and ignoring Kir's muttered protests, Kari repeated, :Recreated.:
Back to this then. She was going to have to get a moment alone with Anur or get Hansa to facilitate a conference with herself and Aelius, because they at the very least needed Kir to believe in his own goodness! For the moment though, she had to leave it, and try to push the conversation onto less fraught ground.
"What was your process?" Solaris prompted, hoping technical details would be safer, "The research in the archives, of course, but how did you pull out relevant bits from the dross? Actually, how did you know it was a forging? My readings on sun-blessed steel left me thinking it was a particular blessing on already forged weapons."
"That was my first thought as well, and seemed to be the common consensus, when people actually believe sun-blessed steel was more than a pretty way to say well crafted steel wielded by a priest or priestess," Kir said, picking up the well-past lukewarm mug of tea beside him and taking a displeased sip before continuing, "But that interpretation didn't stand up to scrutiny, not really. Vanya Flamesinger had to hunt down sun-blessed steel, but timing wise he was not so far from Reulan's reign, there should have still been some sacred knowledge or righteous individual capable of that sort of blessing. Another point against it was the fact that sun-blessed steel's loss was always referred to as a skill that had been lost or as no longer being able to craft sun-blessed steel. The language didn't seem to fit a prayer or spell of some sort being lost, the wording just wasn't right for that."
Solaris shook her head ruefully but didn't say anything. She was no scholar, for all her long trips to the archives looking into their history, and picking out a few verbs as being odd choices would never have led her to the conclusion that making sun-blessed steel was no mere spell or prayer. Kir dragged his fingers through Kari's coat, collecting sparks as he went, continuing, "Thinking on the effects of magic and how spelled steel holds onto enchantments led to the next problem. Generation lasting enchantments like sun-blessed steel had to be, for any of the stories to be remotely accurate and for that maintenance text on ancient relics to be at all reasonable, have to be anchored. Anchored in some form of etching is of course possible, but that would weaken the blades, which seemed impractical, and besides that there were references to arrowheads and those are too small for the sort of etchings that would be needed for anchored spellcraft that long-lasting, and obviously anything in a hilt wouldn't make sense for arrowheads either. That left the metal, which meant either a special ore or a special forging – or both, but I had no way to work on the ore angle so I focused on the forging."
Smiling at both the words she was hearing and the way Kir's tension was properly easing as he talked, she listened to Kir outline the way he picked through monographs and stories, pulled scraps of hymns and the rhythms of the forgework he had experienced himself, and tried combinations and pieces in various sequences until finally something about the final piece, the last draft, felt right. He had then had the good fortune to have Forgemaster Axeli declare their next and last major project his choice, seeing as his ordination was approaching, and Kir had presented the Rite. The Forgemaster had read through it, declared it fully possible from the forging perspective, and they had crafted a miracle.
"I think I understand," Solaris said, when Kir tried again to find words besides 'it felt right' to describe how he had known that what he held was the Rite he was searching for, "It sounds much like those moments in my meditations when an idle thought suddenly rings as truth."
She was careful not to say anything explicit about how it was one of the ways she perceived the Sunlord's Will, about how her meditations were done so she could still her thoughts and remove her desires from what she was mulling over, from what she was feeling, and listen for the subtlest of the Sunlord's whispers. And they were subtle, most of the time. Either so quiet she had to meditate on His Will to catch a hint of it or so loud it felt like her very soul was on fire.
She had only ever seen one so-called witch burn, and Solaris had been a child, still, only just starting her official training for the priesthood. Her youth was the only reason her hysterics hadn't condemned her as well, because the moment the first spark had hit the pyre every corner of her being had been screaming at the soul-searing wrong this is wrong this is wretched and evil and wrong that had overwhelmed her. She had been unable to understand how anyone could possibly think this was the Sunlord's Will, couldn't they hear Him?
Kir would never even consider that the Sunlord might have murmured to him, when he first started considering that witch-powers were not evil. That those quiet moments spent looking over research and thinking over sacred writings and praying for guidance could be answered with a feeling in his heart that he was thoughtful enough, considerate enough, strong enough, to listen to. To heed. No, Kir had never considered himself someone worthy of hearing the Sunlord. Not until he had come into her service, and received an entirely independent reason for the Sunlord's actions to convey favor upon him.
Acting through the unworthy because their cause was a good one had been one of the things to get their nation in this mess. It was still sometimes necessary. It was not done with any other choice available. Kir was not in that necessary but unwise category, no matter what he thought.
Even with her careful avoidance of referring to perception of the Sunlord's will, Kir was shaking his head and denying the comparison, "Similar, perhaps, but I had no concept of its truth or righteousness, it simply seemed the best of my versions, and I wished to try."
Smacking her brother over the head with the Crown of Vkandis would not do any good at all, but it was sometimes sorely tempting.
Fortunately for them all, Kari perked up, ears pricked as he stared into the distance before giving a distinctively pleased rumble. Blue eyes flashed up at them, and the Cat's voice was all the sharp-edged joy of a triumphant catch, :It seems that one Darius Vars has been arrested.:
"I have to be honest, there are a lot of scribbled out words, I think they got in an argument in the middle of writing this. Something about the sun-blessed steel crafting? And… maybe healing?"
"Well. At least they caught this Vars bastard?"
"A net positive, definitely."
"I find it rather worrying they're willing to write about repunctured lungs and soul-gamble Hunting Rites and not about whatever this is."
"Tamara! Would it kill you to think positively for once!"
"Look me in the eye and tell me my worries have no basis, Irma!"