Liljan at least waited until they had laid the corpses to rest to speak, burning them behind the wards necessary to ensure raised walkers didn't leave traces of themselves behind.
Necromancy was far too close to blood magic, some days. Colbern had been furious but unsurprised when two of their number ended up Nameless and dead. At least Liljan didn't have the temperament to work with the living – it made working with her a pain in the ass, but it also meant he wouldn't be losing the only other necromancer willing to actually use her talents anytime soon. Not to her own crimes and hubris, at least.
"Would have been helpful to have a third set," Liljan said flatly.
He could see her staring at him in the corner of his vision, but kept his own gaze on the thoroughly charred corpses, flames white-yellow as they reduced the once-woken bodies to truly quiet ash. The necromancer's crematorium – simply a ventilated and warded corner of the crypts – was next to her preferred workroom. She had undoubtedly already assembled some projects for the High Holy Week season. He wasn't going to ask right now. The bird-snake thing she'd figured out how to make had been uniquely horrifying, and he'd rather get through the Conclave before listening to one of Liljan's disturbingly intriguing year-end summary reports.
"No, Liljan," he said.
"'No Liljan'," she echoed mockingly, "What the hell does that boy think he's going to do when we die? You're all excited to go kill some blood mages well good for you, I'm looking at a future where I'm the only necromancer in Sunhame willing to do my duty! You'd best hope I die before you do or first rite I need to conduct I'm dragging that boy down here by his ankles until he does his job – "
"Enough!" Colbern shouted, feeling too-frequently-worked bones interred in earth straining to aid him and swearing under his breath, exhaling shakily and humming to himself as he settled them back to sleep, axe sweeping through blocks.
"You'd best have not disturbed my arrays," Liljan groused, looking positively sulky as she crossed her arms, "I put a lot of work into them."
"You always do," Colbern gritted out, settling his axe across his back and saying, "Leave him be, Liljan. Dragging him into anything unwilling will end badly for everyone involved, aside from basic courtesy."
"Courtesy is for breathers," Liljan scoffed.
"Of which we are," Colbern retorted, shaking his head, "Leave it. The extended clan is aware of our shortage. It'll be dealt with."
"And then we get to figure out teaching a necromancer when our mentorship options are a man whose only student refuses to have anything to do with our actual duties and me," Liljan spat on the floor, "And we all know how badly that will end."
"Are you done?" Colbern asked flatly.
If Colbern had needed to choose a non-Firestarting necromancer to survive Solaris' Ascent, it would have been Liljan. That sounded impressive, until one remembered that the other two options were both Nameless and dead. If the District's necromancy wardings worked with any less than four active participants, he would have been sorely tempted to kill one or the other of that Nameless pair years ago, they'd been that bad. But for years the other options for their wardings were exorcists who he was loathe to risk, because they were far too rare, and Tristan.
He had done so very badly by that boy. Young man. Person.
Taking her silent scowl as agreement – or at least lack of further argument – Colbern heaved a sigh and took her point. He'd been worrying over it for a while, after all, trying to find a way to have the next necromancer sent to join the priesthood trained by an outsider, or having a mentor willing to relocate to Sunhame for a time, or something already established. Established in a way that wasn't him.
He couldn't.
"I'm aware of the problem. I'm trying to figure it out," he said finally, and mentally cursed those once called Toren and Silas to the coldest of hells while he was at it, because damn them. He was not meant for a leadership position, yet here he was, the best of two admittedly terrible options. And most senior, but once-called Toren had been their leader for years and he'd been a solid decade and change younger than Colbern.
"Well make sure you actually do," Liljan said, "I'll watch the fires, get going. Seventh bell rang a while ago and you've got your fancy annual meeting."
Colbern watched her for a while, before nodding and murmuring, "Thank you, Liljan."
She waved him off, and he headed for the door. A passage of smoothed down stone, carved with wards and stories, one corner, a somewhat-hidden door, and stairs to the surface. The door hadn't always been so difficult to get to, supposedly. But there was a panel of carvings down there that Sunhame would prefer never existed, and the necromancers refused to part with. To be fair, Colbern suspected the majority of the necromancers who had pitched that battle had done so out of stubbornness or fear of precedent, not actual desire to keep the panel commemorating one of their worst errors, and the one who had finally brought the bastard down. But the result was the same.
One of the only pieces of Valdemaran script to be found on record in Karse, much less the District. Colbern had no idea which ancient had managed to get their hands on a copy of how Vanyel Demon-Rider's name and titles were written out in Valdemaran, but it had been carved into place, Karsite transliteration underneath, and the necromancers, at least, remembered the Demon-Rider as one who had done their job for them.
The Boneyard lay to the east of the fatlands, and was at least another two hundred years out from a full cleansing, after centuries of work. Not entirely thankless, its gradual purification over the course of centuries was one of the reasons the fatlands had developed into such fertile territory, but the work was constant.
The necessity of that work was the only reason that ancient necromancer wasn't Nameless. Hard to force through a contract imposing a generations long debt on a family if the person who'd incurred it was no longer Named as a member. Colbern had wondered, sometimes, if the Oradnel clan would have been better off with that wretch truly Nameless rather than unnamed merely by custom. He doubted it – they produced too many necromancers and healers for Sunhame of old to have allowed them to continue unmanaged, the contract had at least bound them and Sunhame together, given them a shelter as a necessary part of the nation's prosperity.
He laughed, sometimes, when people called the royal court of Karse a fancy social club. It was, to be frank, but the fact that the Oradnels were some of the biggest names in those circles and so very necessary was a touch of irony. Just enough to be funny.
Liljan had never understood it. She still didn't, to be honest. Oh, she'd walked the Boneyard, all necromancers did, but she hadn't been raised on the stories and the warnings. She was what they called a spontaneous necromancer – there was no traceable connection between her family line and the Oradnels, and she was from out by Menmellith besides. Far flung and distant ancestry was entirely possible, but he considered it far more likely the talent came from somewhere else.
Gift. Knack. Whatever word he should use that wasn't talent.
Regardless, it meant she hadn't been raised on the same understandings as he had, as a born and raised Oradnel. Neither had Tristan, not that he'd found that out until it was far too late. He hardly even remembered those childhood lessons in any coherent fashion, but knew they were foundational. It had taken far too long of talking past one another for him to realize that Tristan being listed as the Oradnel necromancer-tithe of his generation meant nothing because he had only been found by a traumatic so-called accident, nearly too old to be claimed for the priesthood at all, and therefore sent on immediately without even an explanation of the bargain he was holding up by his mere existence.
Fortunately, Raltor had been more than willing to join him in raising hell about that. When Yelena had finished sulking over the way her attempt at taking advantage had backfired, she'd been even more helpful. She was a precious healer, after all.
Once again, as it seemed he did every day he was alive, he cursed that overly prideful fool of an ancestor that had saddled them all with this debt. Saddled their whole line, their whole nation, with that bias. If he could send wine to a dead Demon-Rider, he'd send it to Demon-Rider Vanyel, because that was one death at his hands which was most certainly deserved.
Getting that wine-price of Brynhild's sent off to the Demon-Rider's colleague-descendent would have to suffice.
=pagebreak=
Anur should probably be listening to the discussion going on between Justicar Jeryl and Garth Nolans – after Garth had confirmed he had records for some particular cases of concern to Jeryl, the Justicar had realized he'd never formally written out Garth's version of today's events. Having to answer more targeted questions had brought Nolans some ease, or at least he seemed a little less likely to jump out of his skin.
Rather ironic, because Anur had started to feel more than a little jittery. Kir's presence against his mind was quieter, and a quick check from Aelius about their earlier conversations had let them conclude that Kir didn't necessarily overhear them when they discussed things, even unshielded, but they would need to test things further. Aelius' best theory was that if either he or Kir were interested in what the other was saying or hearing, they would hear it too, unless there was deliberate shielding in place.
Nothing to be done for it now, and Kir was quiet, but he knew better than to think his brother was resting, what with those flares and flickers of his presence, and Anur wanted to get back to his brother. He wanted to have his brother in his sights and be able to verify everything he'd been told about Kir's condition with his own eyes.
But he couldn't leave yet. Darius Vars had yet to be hauled into Fourth Court. So here he was, trying to avoid pacing restlessly and raising tension levels when they'd only just started subsiding, staring out the window of the Justicar's office and over what he feared was the courtyard in front of the main entrance to Fourth Court.
:Oh I really hope that's not in front of the main entrance,: Aelius said, sounding disturbed.
Anur couldn't quite tear his eyes away from the drama of the courtyard. From the third floor it was very obvious that someone had spent a lot of time laying the cobblestones and gutters to form a sun motif around the raised central platform. Said platform looked to be one solid slab of stone, with a deep hole in the center of it, and was practically black with old char.
:I have some bad news for you,: Anur replied, watching the flow of people through that courtyard and remembering the way they'd moved through this building in comparison to where Justicar Marya had been stationed and the large doors that her desk had faced, :Because that is definitely in front of the main entrance.:
Anyone coming to the Courts had to first walk past the place they might die screaming. Definitely encouraged people to use the Courts instead of trying to settle things themselves, not off-putting at all.
He was being a little hypocritical; the City Courts in Haven didn't have gallows in front of them, but that was because there was only one court in Haven authorized to issue death penalties, and that Court did have a permanent gallows outside. Not out front, it was off to the side, but there was a courtyard around it where people could assemble. That was the same as here, it was just that instead of one Court authorized to issue the death penalty in all of Sunhame, there were four.
Maybe five, depending on how executions that took place in the District counted...
:Burning is still the default mechanism for executions,: Anur said, feeling more than a little nauseous. :The Oathbreaker and Vars – if they decide to execute them, I won't disagree. But burning…:
He had seen people burn before, but only in combat – and Kir's version of combat Firestarting was fast and seldom had visible flames, nowadays. But watching a living person get tied to a pyre and listening to them scream? Never. Not once.
:I don't think I can watch that,: Anur said finally.
:I don't think any of us can,: Aelius replied, :I certainly don't think you or Kir should. I can guarantee you will both have nightmares, anyone with a brain between their ears could guess that, and I rather think we have enough nightmares between the lot of us already.:
:Do you think we can convince Solaris to change it to hanging or axes? At least for non blood-mage related crime?: Anur asked, :Not before these two's sentencing, in all likelihood, but someday? If it's on the books as the default, it'll be hard for Kir and I to just – never be there.:
:It can't hurt to ask,: Aelius said gently, :It can't possibly hurt to ask, Chosen. Shall I add it to the list?:
Anur huffed a laugh, shaking his head, :Please do.:
A flurry of movement in the courtyard caugh this eye, and he watched with interest as a quartet of Sunsguard trooped in, a man bound and possibly gagged between the middle two. Didn't seem to be struggling very effectively, but by the way he was stumbling over his own feet, that was likely due to being dazed more than any lack of desire too. Definitely none one who came quietly, and given the descriptions of Vars…
"Master Nolans," Anur called over his shoulder, "I rather think that's Vars being hauled in."
Garth Nolans practically bolted over to join him, and Anur eyed him worriedly when the man's breathing went ragged, choking out, "Yes. That's him."
Anur glanced past him to Justicar Jeryl; very uncharacteristically, Garth Nolans didn't so much as twitch, gaze locked on the man being dragged across that very deliberately arranged courtyard. The Justicar looked concerned himself, which was at least something. The man definitely wanted Vars arrested and was concerned with the definition of justice and how best to achieve it, having signs of compassion for victims of Vars and the Oathbreaker as well? This case was in good hands.
"I will head down to meet them, and start on what is undoubtedly going to be an interesting interrogation. I would recommend giving us… say a quarter mark, to get him into one of the interrogation rooms. My desk is secured, so I will not bother with my door, simply shut it behind you when you leave. Honored Hansa, would you accompany me?"
The Firecat nodded, and Garth Nolans still didn't so much as twitch. Oh Anur was very glad he had gotten everyone to agree that Garth Nolans should leave with him and not be confronted with Darius Vars today.
Anur nodded agreement to the Justicar, who returned the gesture shortly and gathered up some papers, tracing the same glowing lines over his desk as before and sweeping out the door, courteously allowing Honored Hansa to precede him. Anur waited for the door to fully shut before he focused on the man standing next to him, saying, "Garth Nolans, are you aware of where and when you are?"
"I am," the man said, sounding numb. Sounding exhausted. Anur sympathized so very much.
"You still up for meeting your sister at her market stall? I'll gladly walk with you elsewhere if you can just give me directions from wherever we end up to that market stall, and I'll pass on your destination to her," Anur offered, not sure where on the power-through spectrum Garth Nolans would be falling right now. It had been a very long day already, and Anur had actually gotten sleep last night. Nolans was undoubtedly dead on his feet, especially with the thing that had driven him onwards finally achieved.
"No I – I can meet her," Nolans managed, sounding a little less dead tired, and even managing a short laugh, "She wouldn't believe you if you said I was fine, and the year's been hard enough without her closing up early. This is her best season."
Kir and he had already given the majority of their annual stipends to the 62nd's quartermaster, as was their usual habit come winter. They'd kept more for themselves than in previous years, thanks to their frequent travels to Sunhame and the increased opportunities to pick up more interesting things, and who knew how much of that Etrius had ended up spending getting the children out.
At some point in this Conclave, they were supposed to comb through the annual budget reports and set the next year's projected budget. Maybe something could be figured out. Getting the Nolans siblings to accept whatever they might figure out would likely be another battle entirely, but the offer at least needed to be made, if it was feasible.
"Well you can at least sit down for a bit," Anur said, hesitating before giving Nolans a careful nudge. The man didn't flinch away this time, but he definitely dropped back into a chair with a distinctively tired sort of bonelessness and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. Considering how careful the man had been about showing any form of weakness today, Anur wasn't quite able to decide if he should be relieved the man felt this comfortable around him or more worried than he already was that the man was going to pass out halfway to the market.
Anur could carry him, but he'd probably end up asking for assistance from Kari or Hansa and resigning himself to retching up his toenails sometime today.
Perhaps food? Pistachios had not only been a while ago, they weren't exactly filling, and fortunately Anur had made a habit of carrying some form of honey-fruit-nut ration bars on his person way back on his first ever solo Circuit. Entering Karse had justed added some meat jerky to his carry-always kit. He'd tried with spice cake, but it had just left crumbs everywhere and mostly dissolved besides, which had been a waste of spice cake, and very sad.
"Ration bar?" he offered, pulling said wax-cloth wrapped bar out of his inner coat pocket, "I also have jerky, and you're accepting one of those two offers. I don't particularly want to end up carrying you to your sister."
Garth Nolans stared at him for a while, and Anur made sure to keep his expression mild, whereas with Kir he would already be glowering.
"I'll split the bar with you," Nolans finally conceded, and Anur would take that for the victory it was. He passed the man the bar to split and returned to the glasses and pitcher of water by the window, still half full. Tea would be better, but he was hardly going to be asking for heated water and Kir was far too tired for experimenting with their apparently deepened mental connection right now. Water would do.
Dropping into his former seat, he passed Nolans a cup of water and accepted half a ration bar in exchange, biting into it and taking a sip of just enough water to soften the edible glue he had just eaten. Former city guard instead of banditry, but Nolans had evidently had just as much experience with the high energy ration bars it felt like every unit had their own recipe for, yet none of them actually tasted much different.
Anur was a little biased, but the 62nd's was pretty unique as well as not-terrible, thanks to regular ingredient swaps with Captain Naomi's bunch. The cooks on both sides were definitely exchanging tips and tricks at this point, he recognized more than a few Valdemaran-style dishes making their way into the mess hall, and the few times he was back with the 74th, there were some distinctively Karsite spices on offer.
"Brother came first," Garth said abruptly. Anur was still chewing his first bite, so he just raised an eyebrow at the man; he hesitated, but apparently decided he was curious enough to risk asking, "Brother to a Firestarter? How in the hells did that happen?"
Anur swallowed, stalling for time with another sip of water, before he had to laugh.
"You know, you're the first person to actually ask me that," Anur said wryly, shaking his head at the startled look Nolans sent him, "People know the story, in broad strokes, but – well. No one ever asked. I honestly couldn't even tell you the exact moment I decided this Firestarter that by some miracle hadn't killed me for witchcraft when we first met was my brother, but he is."
"Kill you for witchcraft?" Nolans asked faintly, definitely sounding like he was starting to regret asking.
"I was very obviously Talented, the way we met," Anur said, looking back on that freezing night in Hardorn with fondness he-at-that-time could have never imagined, "And he was very obviously a Firestarter."
Not that he had known what the black trim on those robes had meant at the time, but he had known very well what the red robes and sun-medallion meant in general, and he had known he might have to run. Might have to fight, when all he had wanted was a chance to drink something alcoholic somewhere being a little standoffish wouldn't be odd. There had been better than even odds that he would have run into Kris and Talia on their way to King Alessendar's court, and he'd been stressed about it for weeks. When they hadn't even detoured, when Aelius had admitted that Tantris had never even reached out to ask if they were available for a briefing on the border situation –
It had hurt. Stupidly. Kris and Talia had undoubtedly been briefed in Haven, by experts, and even by Circuit Heralds en route or border Heralds more centrally stationed near the Eastern Trade Road than him. But Kris had been his yearmate, no matter what else might be between them, and he'd thought that maybe Kris would want to talk.
And then the Death Bell had rung, and Kris was dead.
Anur was deeply grateful that he hadn't been close to any of the Heralds who had died since, callous as that sounded. The Death Bell resonated with Heralds who were close to the dead, regardless of their location in the country. It was only in Haven, when one could physically hear the Bell, that every Herald felt it to some degree. In those first years on the border, he'd had a few moments of doubting anyone outside of Haven would feel his death. By the time Kris had died, Anur had at least thought Lenora would feel something if the Bell rang for him.
Kris' death had been a surprise, and the fact that Anur had felt it had been almost as much of one. Both had hurt.
He'd taken the chance to eat another chunk of his ration bar, and Nolans was doing the same, though definitely shaking his head in disbelief as he did. Anur was rather unsurprised that he didn't ask any further questions – every time Anur had answered questions today he could practically see the double-takes people were so very careful not to make. It was honestly half the fun of answering.
Haven was going to be nerve-wracking, but also hilarious.
Draining the last of his water, Anur took Nolans' also empty cup and set them back to be washed by whoever handled those things in the Courts. Hopefully they were a little less jumpy than the District staff who Anur had needed to actively lay in wait for in order to see. To be fair, he had never really needed to speak to the District's staff outside of the tailors Jaina had dragged him and Kir to for dress uniform fittings and the hostlers that had finally stopped eyeing them warily sometime this fall, but he'd been curious and more than half convinced the Hall was somehow cleaned by magic because he'd never seen anyone besides the Firestarters and their invited guests inside.
Jaina had ended up explaining to both of them that the Hall was cleaned and maintained on a rotating schedule, designed deliberately to avoid the Firestarters as much as possible. No one was clear who that schedule was favoring, exactly, but Kir had finally managed to sit down with the person in charge of managing staffing late last spring and informed them if anything needed to change about the Hall and the way the Firestarting Order was interacting with the District staff, they only needed to let him know and he would act on it.
It was one of the few times Kir had asked Kari to accompany them to a meeting in an effort to be reassuring, rather than intimidating. Late summer they'd received a very warily worded request that any requests for meals to be brought to the Hall be made at least a full day in advance, and Anur and Kir had stared at each other in honest bafflement. How had that not already been the policy? Needless to say, they had tracked down every Firestarter and passed that request on as an order, and Kavrick's coughing admission that he was likely the reason for the letter had netted rolled eyes from the both of them, seeing as he had requested two meals on short notice when Loshern had been called back to Sunhame for some reason or another.
Kir had been the one to point out that the whole thing had likely been a test from everyone involved: Kavrick and Loshern, that Loshern could visit even after it was relatively well known that he and Kavrick were some degree of romantically involved, the District staff, that Kir and Anur would actually respect their requests, and Kavrick again, that he could openly speak of his romantic involvement with another man without being castigated for it.
Anur was looking forward to Kavrick's face when he realized that Anur was definitely sending Rodri to him to get a summary of safe sex practices for sex between two men, regardless of Rodri admitting to being attracted to men as well as women. Anur could handle the conversations about sex between a man and a woman, which Kir had flatly told him he had better be the one to explain, but between men? Not exactly something he could discuss outside of theory, and with Kavrick on hand, why limit Rodri's horizons?
If Rodri ended up like Kir, utterly uninterested in any sex ever, Anur would be a little disappointed. He was really looking forward to the look on Kavrick's face.
"You said you wanted to remove your signs of office," Nolans reminded him before they reached the door.
"Ah, right. Thank you for the reminder," Anur said, hastily draping his coat over one arm to undo his sash and fold it up. It would fit in an interior pocket, same with the Sun in Glory. It was cold enough outside that he likely could have gotten away with just buttoning his coat over them, but best not to borrow any more trouble than he already had.
Fortunately, Anur was well practiced at following without looking like he was following, even if he hadn't had to rely on body-language alone with Kir in years. Walking alongside Garth Nolans through the streets – where Nolans was definitely leading them through side streets, likely out of habit – was less noticeable than trailing him. It did make the silence a little awkward, at least for Anur. He didn't have much he could say though. All they really had in common to talk about was this case, which would be attention grabbing to speak of and potentially distressing, which he wanted to avoid, and Valerik's existence –
Well. That could work.
"Never heard. Val get medical attention?" Nolans asked abruptly, the sudden question all the more jarring because Anur's mind had been running on such similar lines.
"He did," Anur confirmed, unsure where exactly he'd heard that from but he knew it was true, "He'll be all right, though full recovery will likely take a while."
"As bad off as he was?" Nolans huffed tiredly, looking relieved nonetheless, "Wouldn't expect to see him grabbing drinks for a while."
"And we'll probably miss any bail outs till next winter at this rate," Anur grumbled, "Damn it. I want to go drinking with him, but he's still convinced Kir will be furious about the whole barfighting aspect so he won't invite me!"
"He… thinks you don't know about that?" Nolans asked, sounding bemused.
"And Jana doesn't want us to tell him, she wants to watch him panic when we bail him out one time. Why she brought us along today, she thought he'd broken his High Holy Week deal with her, figured he'd earned it," Anur grinned, because even if the day had ended up going rather spectacularly according to absolutely no one's plan, it had started out with some excellent potential for hilarity. Even better! If Valerik somehow managed to miss hearing that they'd been with Jaina for the bail out – which he so very easily could, considering how involved he and Kir had been in other things today, leaving their names scattered everywhere instead of just in one incident – more of the men of the Outer Eighth would get the eventual joke!
"Huh. Wonder how they'll fit that into the theories," Garth muttered.
"Theories?" Anur prompted.
Garth looked up from his musings, apparently startled he'd said that out loud, before looking distinctly rueful and admitting, "More like bets. Haven't seen the books in a year or so, but there's a whole swath of theories about just what is going on with Val and Jana, because something is definitely off. None are right, far as I know."
"You put your money on one?" Anur asked, gleefully prodding at Aelius, :Aelius, the list!:
:…Chosen, this is definitely not something for the list. I'll remind you to tell Kir about it though.:
"Oh, some variation of the 'frontman-slash-enforcer for the family smuggling business' theory, Jana's the bookkeeper in that one," Garth replied, scoffing, "Most of them are along those lines, there's only so many options that aren't absolutely insane."
:One of which is the truth, obviously,: Aelius said.
By the sardonic look Garth sent him, he had much the same thought. Anur was too busy snickering over the idea of a book of bets about Val and Jana. He would definitely need to track down some Val and Jana stories, for bets to spring up around them? There were definitely stories.
"Well, Jana introduced me as Kir's sworn brother, and Kir as her and Val's younger brother, finally able to make it back to Sunhame in the winter, first time in years," Anur smirked, "So even if they make the logical connection between Kir and I as ourselves, no reason for any of the bets to change."
"And of course every word of it is true," Garth groaned, "And of course she wouldn't have said anything else. None of the theories are going to change at all."
"I mean, you could settle the theories," Anur allowed, grimacing, "Though I'd ask you not to."
"Jana made the same request of Maude, and we'd hardly do any less," Garth replied, waving him off and finally they emerged into the crowded market. Anur had honestly no idea they'd been this close aside from the growing volume due to the crowd, Garth was definitely an expert at those side streets. From the snippets of conversation Anur could hear as they wove their way through, gossip about the golden flames and and the Oathbreaker and the charity temple were on practically everyone's lips. He wondered how long it would take for word of Vars' arrest to spread as far. It certainly sounded like the man was just as much of a horror as the Oathbreaker, if focused on a smaller geographical area.
"Garth!"
Maude had immediately spotted them, likely keeping an eye out for her brother, and said brother immediately waved back and slipped through the gap between stalls to get behind his sister's counter, returning her hug fiercely.
"Did you see Vars get hauled in?" Maude asked, definitely pitching her voice to carry, even if she was speaking mostly to her brother's shoulder. By the rash of murmurs, people definitely knew the name, as suspected.
"I did," Garth said, following her lead on volume, "Didn't leave Fourth Court till he was properly secured."
Maude pulled back, looking distinctly pleased, and turning to Anur, keeping her voice more conversational, she said, "Thank you for bringing my brother here."
"Had to come this way anyway," Anur shrugged, admitting, "At least from the market I can back track to Jana's place. From Fourth Court? No idea."
"Fair," Maude said, though by her bemused expression she was probably wondering just how bad he was at directions when literally all he had to do to reach the District was find a Ray and head inwards. It turned to a pleased smile, though, and she said, "Actually, that's perfect! Jana was in a bit of a rush and there was some fuss when I got back, she forgot two of her spice cakes – probably forgot she'd ordered extra this year! You can take them to her – she paid in advance, not to worry."
Anur paused, because that – didn't sound like Jaina, even with the chaos of today. Eyeing Garth, who raised an eyebrow at him, and then the woman working the neighboring stall, who definitely ducked her head with a grin, and finally Maude, who was holding out two wax-paper and cloth wrapped cakes with a mildly pleased expression that was just this degree of smug, Anur let that hold for another long moment before sighing. He didn't have time for this, and honestly, free spice cake. He did want to make one thing clear though.
"For the record, I am aware that something here is going unsaid, but I really don't have the inclination to figure it out right now. Thank you, I'll be sure Jana gets these. Master Nolans, Mistress Nolans, pleasure to meet you both, even if circumstances were – well. Exhaustingly dramatic. Enjoy the rest of your Midwinter."
"You as well!" Maude said cheerfully, and if Anur ignored the gleeful whoop that the baker let out when he was a few stalls down – well. She could have just been celebrating Vars' arrest more blatantly now that she had her brother in her sights.
By the time he reached the District, any last reserve of energy was long spent. Anur needed his brother, some tea, and a nap. The next person or plot to delay him in any way was going to be treated to a full homicidal-maniac snarl, and he wasn't too proud to admit it. Well, unless it was Rodri. If Rodri showed up and asked for help or needed his attention, he'd give it to him. Or if it was Maltin. Or Etrius.
Or any Firestarter.
He really had adopted them, hadn't he?
:Hmm. I don't like the looks of this Seras one. Send him back,: Aelius said mockingly.
:Oh hush, Seras is a second cousin,: Anur retorted, adjusting his grip on the spice cakes Maude had pressed on him, :If I can take Markov as an uncle, Seras can be a distant cousin. Colbern too. I'll take the others as first cousins.:
:Oh please Rodri is definitely a nephew.:
:So you're going to be the one to tell Kir he's a father-figure?:
Aelius' pause was very loud.
:A fair point,: his Companion allowed, :Never mind. Cousins it is.:
:Did you end up telling Kir any good stories?: Anur asked, :Or did he get distracted with something else?:
:No stories today, no. Solaris was able to keep him focused, when he was too agitated by what he was overhearing from you – there's definitely a level of intent, of only hearing what you hear when he wants to listen, I think is the best way to distinguish between those circumstances.:
:I can't decide if I want this change to be a consequence of the Hunting Rite or a consequence of Kir's scars being aggravated,: Anur grimaced, finally catching sight of the familiar wooden building the Firestarters called home and giving a relieved sigh. The District itself was more confusing than Sunhame – at least in the sense of getting where he wanted to go. Sunhame all he had to do was head inwards, in the District? He definitely could get turned around unless he retraced his steps exactly, hence needing to use the same gate to Inner Sixth as they'd exited from.
:Both options are worrying in their own way,: Aelius agreed, hesitating before offering quietly, :I have a much better sense of him now than before – I don't think scars would affect that.:
:I don't want to use the Rite again,: Anur admitted, feeling obscurely ashamed.
:I can't blame you,: Aelius said.
:Anur?: Kir spoke up, presence against his mind flaring, :Are you nearby?:
:I am,: Anur promised, entering the Hall and heading straight for the kitchens. Drop off these cakes, grab some tea if water was hot, and head for the courtyard. :In the Hall even. How are you?:
:Miserable,: Kir admitted, Anur immediately feeling a spike of panic at Kir's uncharacteristic admission, :I'm getting cold, but there's still enough fire everywhere I can't go inside, and I have nowhere near enough control for the Trial to be a good idea.:
That last admission, while deeply concerning, was also one Anur doubted Kir would have ever made without being pushed to do so even last year. Progress!
Pushing open the kitchen door, he nearly ran into Henrik, but fortunately they managed to dodge one another – and not drop the spice cakes or the mugs of tea Henrik was carrying. The younger man winced apologetically, but carried on. Likely heading to check on Valerik himself. Anur would have to get an update from someone. Sometime.
Not now.
Two Sunsguard, familiar faces from Solaris' usual guardsmen, looking a little tense but that was fair enough, this was hardly their usual environment. They had mugs in front of them at least. Lumira was sitting across from them, writing something, as was Fabron – Jaina was staring at a kettle, likely waiting for it to finish heating, finally looking like herself in black-edged vestments and marriage-braid free.
"We're waiting on Colbern and Seras with Etrius and Rodri, everyone else has returned," Jaina summarized, grabbing a third mug, "Once this tea is brewed I'll bring it out to Kir and Her Eminence."
"I can bring it," Anur said, setting the two cakes on the counter next to what looked like a stack of five similarly wrapped cakes, "Brought the two cakes Maude Nolans said you forgot."
Jaina slammed her fist against the counter, snarling, "Damn it, I didn't forget any!"
Anur paused, and carefully picked up the two cakes again, saying, "Did I say forgot? I didn't say that, definitely not."
"Apologies," Jaina grumbled, burying her face in her hands and taking a slow breath before straightening and explaining tiredly, "She was trying to convince me to take two extra spice cakes as thanks practically the moment we left Fourth Court. I turned her down – repeatedly – and barely managed to get away with only the five cakes I ordered. I was rather proud of myself for managing, honestly."
"Well, judging by the gleeful cheer I heard when I walked away, she was pretty proud of getting these extra spice cakes to you," Anur said, wincing nonetheless because he could guess why Jaina didn't want these cakes. Not like this. Not as thanks for doing their duty. He understood both sides, to be honest. Feeling the debt and wanting to offer something, and feeling there was no debt, if anything there was a debt owed the other way, because this should have been caught earlier. This should never have happened.
Something occurred to him, and he grinned, "So you don't want these?"
"I usually buy three, I already added two cakes to the standard order because of you, I don't think you need two more spice cakes."
"Oh no, I won't keep both of them," Anur said, putting one back on the counter and heading for the courtyard, "I have a better plan!"
The Sunsguard were hiding smiles in their own mugs – they definitely knew exactly where Anur was going with this.
"Solaris!" Anur called through the doorway, hard pressed to keep his tone light at the sight of his brother so very clearly in pain, "Want some spice cake?"
"Obviously!" she called back.
"Great! I'll leave it on the table for you!" he said, doing as promised before going straight back outside, ignoring Jaina's spluttering.
In a better mood, in a less infuriating time, hearing Jaina spluttering – over the offer of spice cake, over his walking straight into fire, either or both – it would be amusing. But right now he was too worried to even consider delaying longer, ignoring the by now nearly familiar way his brother's fire curled across his clothes and skin without burning.
Kneeling at Kir's side, he wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and winced when Kir immediately slumped against him, breathing ragged, but at least not wet sounding, and worryingly chill. Anur murmured, "We have to get you inside Kir, it's only going to get colder."
"Fires were keeping us warm for a good while," Solaris murmured, one hand settled between Kir's shoulder-blades, and exchanging a nod with a worried looking Jaina, having apparently foregone waiting for the tea and followed Anur out, halberd in hand, "But between them finally starting to subside and the clouds rolling in…"
"And it looks like it'll be a proper storm tonight," Anur murmured, glancing around at the airborne fire in the courtyard. Not awful, and it sounded like they were better than before so progress had happened, but still far too much to be safe indoors, not with Kir's ability to put fires out temporarily compromised.
"We are definitely adding fire suppression to the list of necessary and cultivated skills for Firestarters after this," Jaina said darkly, "I do not like how much of this has fallen to you by default."
"Not the priority," Kir rasped, Anur ignoring his brother's insistence that combating blood magic and readying themselves for Ancar's assault had to take priority over such a niche skill as total suppression of sparks in favor of giving Aelius the mental equivalent of a tug on the sleeve.
:Aelius?: he asked, hoping against hope there was something his Companion could do, because had no idea what they could do for this besides get a bunch of blankets and braziers out here and camp out, which sounded less than ideal, and not just because Kir was injured.
:…I don't know that I can help,: Aelius said carefully, :Kari, I realize you are tired, but would it be at all possible for you to suppress these flames forcibly? I know you've done it before with the golden flames. If it's a purely power concern, I can likely channel some through you, though without knowing the working you're using I don't know how helpful that will be.:
:I can manage it for a time,: Kari said, lifting his head from his paws and meeting Anur's gaze, looking just as worried as Anur felt, :With this being true backlash, I was wary to do so, aside from being unsure I can manage it long enough. Reactions like this – best to let it run its course, I thought. Though with the weather changing – yes, I can do that. To have better odds of this lasting long enough… if I could lean on you for support, Aelius?:
:Of course,: the Companion promised, :Come see me when you have a moment, we might be able to work out a proper exchange instead of a short term shore-up.:
Kari nodded, before rising to his feet from Kir and Solaris' legs, sitting down at Anur's side and closing his eyes in concentration. His brother's half-rant cut off abruptly, shuddering as the agitated flares of his mind started settling, and the flames on the outskirts of the zone started to vanish. Anur felt his own breathing hitch, when he registered the – the blanketing sensation that seemed to come along with that forcible extinguishing. It felt like there was a weight against his skin, as if he were underwater.
"That's not something we want to use for long," he murmured, Kir huffing a laugh.
"Same sort of feeling as the other times," Kir said quietly, "You're just feeling it too now."
:Oh that is definitely a Hunting Rite consequence,: Aelius grumbled.
:Something more to explore,: Anur sighed, Kir grimacing as he nodded.
"We've got – what, nearly two marks till Descending?" Anur estimated, glancing between Jaina and Solaris.
"Something like that," Jaina agreed, "And it is our Descending, we can delay or shorten as we like. Will you be able to walk, Kir?"
"Once I get standing? Yes," Kir said, "Stairs might be a challenge."
"Yes, likely," Solaris agreed, glancing Jaina's way and saying politely, "Holiness Jaina, if you could precede us, I'll assist Anur in getting Kir up the stairs?"
"Yes, certainly – I'll go ahead and set bricks to warm," Jaina said, picking up Kir's vestments from the bench as she went, Kari trailing after her.
That reminded him, "Oh, Hansa says he'll come back to you when you – "
"Leave the Hall, yes, he said," Solaris interrupted, moving to a crouch and hooking Kir's arm over her shoulder, "On three?"
"On three," Kir agreed.
"Devin, are you just taking notes on questions, or do you have a list of these names, I'm losing track of who's who."
"Oh. No. I… probably should."
"We know the important ones! Kir, Anur, Kari and Rodri!"
"And Aunt Eminence, of course."
"Devin."
"What? It's respectful!"
A/N: Hope you enjoy the chapters!