"The Mechanics of Death Wards? Is that to figure out how the anchored traps worked, sir?" Koshiro asked, Kir looking up from the book he'd been trying to work through for a week now and smiling wryly.
"Unfortunately no," he replied, "The only way we can think of to ensure Lumira's Hardornen congregation can never be pulled under blood-mages sway again is by anchoring a death curse to their minds, triggering whenever a compulsion is placed."
The usual meeting in the 103rds barracks had taken longer than usual, with the logistics of the return of refugees needing to be worked out. Captains Ulrich and Koshiro had worked out their patrol exchanges and had taken a break before continuing to figure out who would take escort duty to the 103rd and, more critically, how they were going to manage securing the place when priests and children descended on it.
Solaris had authorized an increased budget and was sending priests and support staff north, with Karchanek leading them, but the buildings and facilities would need to be inspected and prepared at least partially for their arrival. Most of the barracks of the 103rd had been closed up when this shortage started and hadn't been aired out since. That was what some of the men brought to the meeting were doing, Anur and Markov among them while Kir was stuck here trying to work out whether this proposed spellwork would compromise his Firestarters.
Koshiro took a seat across from him at his gesture, uniform dusty enough he had probably just finished inspecting some buildings himself. He drummed his fingers on the table idly for a moment before finally speaking, "I can understand why they would prefer death to being taken by blood-mages again."
"I can as well," Kir agreed, "I'll be frank, I don't particularly care about their deaths. I'm more concerned about the potential side effects this working might have on the practitioners."
"Ah – is death magic anathema then?"
"Not in this particular incarnation, I think. I haven't spent much time thinking about it, so that's what I'm spending the foreseeable future doing – becoming familiar enough with the topic I can actually guide a decision," Kir sighed, shutting the book and setting it aside, "I don't suppose Tehan came with you?"
"No, he decided to stay in the 54th, but from what I remember he usually opted for that," Devek replied, "Did you want to speak with him?"
"Not particularly, but if he was here I would feel obligated," Kir said, looking over as the door opened and Captain Ulrich walked in, considerably dustier than Devek was. "I see your buildings were in worse shape," he commented.
"Dust and some pests, shouldn't take long to clear them out at least, our initial estimates should serve fine," the older captain snorted, "It's not like they're the height of luxury, I can't see any of them staying here long."
"If the priests complain overmuch, we can just send them to Fathers Kir and Tehan, I don't know that they'd have much patience for their complaints," Devek suggested, Ulrich snorting as he sat beside his former subordinate and Kir raised an eyebrow.
"My quarters are quite nice. Besides, from what I remember Solaris is sending mostly young, recently ordained members of the priesthood – they'll have only just left acolyte dormitories anyway, it won't be as large an adjustment for most of them. And then those more used to luxury wouldn't be able to complain without losing face – I don't think there will be any problems. If there are, I'll gladly intervene."
"I don't suppose Father Markov will be escorting any of the children in?" Ulrich commented with a sly gleam in his eyes, "I've heard very good things."
"About what, his ability to terrify priests?" Kir laughed, shaking his head, "I'm not entirely sure I imagined the collective sigh of relief when Markov announced he was going to leave Sunhame with us. He thought it was hilarious, I'm sure we can convince him to come back every so often."
"Well I'll have to leave you two to convince him of that," Devek said, the three of them standing, "It seems we're done here, if our first estimates are adequate. Captain Ulrich, you're riding north?"
"Indeed. I have your letters, they'll be passed on with the rest."
"My thanks, Captain. Father," Devek inclined his head to his former Captain and offered his customary salute to Kir before heading out of the mess hall they'd met in. Ulrich watched the younger man go with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"I suppose we might see new Generals one day, too," he mused, "He has the ambition for it, and his Valdemaran is fairly good."
"One day," Kir agreed, "But there's a ways to go before he's ready for that – hells, before he even thinks of that."
"Well, you have your Sunhame schemes to deal with, allow me my own," Ulrich smiled, "I'll meet you by the horses, I had best check in with the men we're leaving behind one last time."
"Agreed," Kir said, picking up his book and finding Anur and Markov by the gates, already in their saddles. He shook his head slightly and went to get Riva ready to go, not entirely surprised to hear the whispered plots to return to Sunhame every so often to keep the rest of the priesthood on their toes. For all Markov had claimed to be content to never set foot in Karse again, he delighted in being a horror to his former colleagues.
Those two really were alarmingly alike, he mused, brushing Riva down. Anur didn't see it, being too close to the issue but as many times as he'd poked at something – throwing knives at acolytes, catching something a bit too smoothly, responding a touch too quickly and all with a cheerful glint in his eyes – oh yes. He'd enjoyed the homicidal maniac routine he'd developed, he'd cackled at the chance to torment Loshern a little more.
Anur was more reasonable, more moral, than his surrogate uncle. He was no less vicious, particularly when protecting his own. Kir doubted it had been so obvious in Valdemar – how often had those he truly cared about been under threat? Delilah's betrayal had shattered his confidence in his own judgment and sent him fleeing to the hinterlands, hardly a chance to exercise that cheerfully delivered edge. No, Karse had brought that out in him more than anything.
It didn't reflect well on him that he was looking forward to Anur's reintroduction to Heralds, to his reintroduction to Herald Dirk in particular. It would be jarring, he'd have to prepare Anur for that odd homecoming-yet not, but it would be oh so entertaining watch.
He shook his head at Anur's mute inquiry, Anur only raising an eyebrow before returning to his discussion with his uncle and Kir left them to it. They didn't have much longer to scheme as it was, and Kir could hardly begrudge them that time. Especially when all he had to offer was anticipation for an event moons in the future.
The Heralds had let a treasure slip through their fingers and Kir wanted to watch as they realized it.
***===***pagebreak***===***
It hadn't taken much in-person negotiating to work out how the border aspect of the returning refugees would be handled. Captain Ulrich had sent a message on to Naomi the moment they left the 62nd so they'd had time to think over their own side of things, and the twins had headed out at the same time to consult with their own contacts amongst the hill folk. Between that and the decisions he'd already come to with Devek, it had been relatively simple to get agreement from the other parties. The hill-folk agreed to act as a greeting party and intermediary so no stray 54th Sunsguard saw Valdemaran soldiers escorting those returning and Markov was able to work out a series of meeting points in southern Valdemar for the refugees to meet Captain Naomi's soldiers for said escort. All that remained was seeing how the process worked with actual warm bodies, and that would take a moon at the least, if not longer. It depended on how desperate these people were to return to Karse, as autumn weather would start growing teeth soon enough.
It had been an odd assembly at the Children's Spring – he really did have to ask about that name one day, Anur hadn't had any idea – consisting of Ulrich and the twins, a cluster of hill-folk, Naomi and Joss, Markov and of course Anur and himself. Not the oddest group he had ever stood with, but it was still worth a second glance.
It was easy to forget, sometimes, that the 62nd wasn't standing alone in this conspiracy with Valdemar, that people had been conspiring on one side of the border or the other for generations. Seeing the hill-folk and hearing their fluent switches between Valdemaran and Karsite, hearing their frank discussions of what things would take the longest for returners to readjust to, had been a nice reminder that this could work outside once-desperate soldiers and had worked for centuries.
But the meeting was long done, successfully and easily concluded, details wrapped up, letters handed off and he and Anur had escorted Markov northwest to the Valdemar border, tracing a route they had taken years ago, now, to visit the Bellamies.
It had been years. No matter how Midsummer worked out, they would have to arrange a time to visit the family. He missed them, and he wouldn't have to worry about Anur trying to arrange some horribly forced reconciliation attempt between himself and Markov. They had come to an understanding easily enough, sharing brief words on the way to Sunhame after Cora.
If those words had been more along the lines of thanks for looking after Anur and vows to destroy any that harmed him, well – it couldn't be said that their priorities didn't match.
Looking up from his knotwork at Anur's groan, he couldn't help but grin at the sight of him burying his face in his hands, the grin on Markov's face utterly recognizable. It had been eye-opening, to watch Markov in Karse, to see Markov as Karsite. It was fortunate there was no physical resemblance between Anur and his adoptive uncle or they'd never have been able to pass of the pair as strangers that had hit it off well.
Markov softened, apparently done with his teasing, and he rested a hand on Anur's shoulder, waiting for him to look up at him before saying quietly, "You've done well for yourself nephew. I can't say it is a path I would have chosen for you, but you are happy, and I am proud."
Anur positively glowed at that praise, nearly knocking Markov over when he lunged for an embrace, the older man laughing quietly and returning it, burying his face in Anur's shoulder and Kir couldn't help the brief pang because it was so very recent that the possibility of his own family had been raised and -
It wasn't the same, it wasn't even close to the same, but Anur and Markov had reconciled, hadn't they? Had said their pieces, drawn their lines, and moved on still as family, still caring, and it raised the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, he could have the same one day.
Hells, for all he knew this Kiara Dinesh was the only one left and she'd used 'we' as a formality, and everyone he had once known as kin was dead and gone. He wouldn't turn her away, would never, not if she wanted a Firestarter for a brother, but it wasn't what he was terrified of and what he was taking very great pains to not think on overmuch.
It wasn't worth worrying about, losing sleep over, when he knew so very little of the situation.
He was startled out of his thoughts by Markov walking over to him, resting his hands on his shoulders and meeting his gaze for a long moment before nodding shortly and tugging him into his own hug, Kir not entirely able to contain his surprise.
"Ah – Markov?" he managed, "What are – are you all right?"
The elder man huffed a laugh and tightened his hold briefly, murmuring, "I am late, true, by years, and I am sorry for that. But you are sworn brother to my nephew, who I only have by a similar swearing, so it would be foolish in the extreme to not respect that. I try not to be foolish the same way twice, Kir Dinesh, so I am giving my newest nephew the farewell I owe him."
If he ducked his head to hide damp eyes in Markov's coat, no one here would say anything.
***===***pagebreak***===***
His sworn brother was tending the hives when he returned, so Markov waited on the porch, a mug of spice-tea in hand. Anur had sent a stash of the blend early in the year and he had taken the chance to restock while he was in Karse himself, but this bag was Anna's own attempt to recreate the flavors of his home. It had become more a comfort to him than the original in the years since she had first pressed it on him, positively giddy with anticipation.
She'd been horrified when he'd started to cry into it but Connor had at least been around to salvage the situation before she decided to burn the recipe and swear off tea blending in penance. Their first years had been so utterly awkward, with the children scampering all over their new uncle and their freshly returned da while the three adults tried to figure out just how this was going to change the dynamic of the household.
He'd wandered a lot, those first years, out of habit more than anything and then out of a determination to figure out just what it was about Valdemar that was so evil that he'd been raised on nightmare stories of the land. By the time he'd found himself a home and a trade of his own a few towns away it hadn't felt right unless he spent a week each moon with his new family.
By the cheerful voices behind him, Connor had come in the back and been ambushed with news of his arrival, the other man bursting out the door and catching him up in a fierce hug, Markov rolling his eyes and smiling nonetheless. "Yes Connor, I'm back. It was a fine trip. How are you?"
"Don't even," the man growled into his shoulder, "You stopped by for one night and rode off in the morning with a cheerful, 'and I'm heading for Karse by the way' without even – you swore you would never set foot in Karse again, Marcus. You swore."
"I did," Markov hesitated before continuing quietly, "Could we use Markov, again?"
"It'll take some explaining and some getting used to, but of course," Connor agreed, loosening his hold and pulling him inside. "It was always your choice on that, Markov."
"Oh we're switching?" Anna said idly, "I'll do my best! Now – stew is set, Lilah is picking up bread while she's in town and I finally caught up on mending. Give me my letters!"
Markov laughed as the couple hustled him in front of the hearth, wedging him between them on the couch and Anna dropped his packs in his lap with a pointed glare, Connor prying his mug out of his hands so he had no excuses. He had expected this; they loved their children so very much, how could they not, and Anur was the only one they couldn't see within a day's travel. It hadn't been so bad, when they had known he was in Haven training to be a Herald, even knowing he was off on his internship or working as a messenger -
But when he had stopped by on his way to a guard posting in the south, he had been hollow-eyed and hardly smiled, a far cry from the cheerful and irrepressible boy they had raised and seen only moons before. Terrible correspondence aside, his visit when Mara was born had at least salved their worries because he had looked better – not restored, but they hadn't expected that, but better. He had laughed, at least.
Then he had come home dragging a Sunpriest behind him and Markov had nearly ruined everything they had built because blind, unthinking terror had consumed him.
"Were you able to see Anur?" Anna demanded, "You were heading to Karse but did you see him? How is he?"
Pulling the thick letter out of his packs, he passed it to Anna with a smile at her gasp, "Anur is all right," he said, pleased to see some of that tension fade from her frame, to feel Connor suddenly relax on his other side. "He is safe, safer than I could hope and Sunlord, Connor, he is so very happy."
"He wrote a novel!" Anna cried, delighted as she paged through sheaf after sheaf of her son's handwriting, Dinesh's script showing up every so often. "Oh, this is wonderful!"
"Save that for after we read what he's telling us," Connor recommended, meeting Markov's gaze and passing the tea back, "Couldn't trust the usual messengers?"
"It would probably have been fine, but it wasn't a risk they were willing to take," Markov said, taking a sip of his tea, "You'll have to read it, the story – it's unbelievable, what those boys are doing."
"Kir?" Anna said sharply, grip tightening on the pages as she stared at him, "I recognize his hand, of course, but you saw him?"
"You can't see one without the other, I suspect," Markov dodged, before sighing at her hard look and nodding, "I did – I was wrong, Anna. You told me, you both did and now – I apologized, to him and Anur both and sweet stars, those boys are a miracle."
"They certainly made quite the impression," Connor said, reaching out to poke at the Sun-in-Glory hanging around his neck, "Never seen you wearing one of these before."
"I've never been willing to declare for the Sunlord before," Markov admitted, Connor's arm wrapping around his shoulders and tugging him into an embrace, Anna taking his free hand in her own.
"That's wonderful," Anna said quietly, Connor nodding as she continued, "I'm so happy for you. Markov, that's wonderful."
They sat like that for a time, Markov finally feeling in his bones that he was truly home. But eventually he could feel his arm starting to fall asleep and Connor's knee was wedged awkwardly into his thigh so he pulled back and straightened out, shaking his limbs slightly before reclaiming his mug and sitting back, smiling at the two Bellamies and saying, "Let me tell you of your son."