A/N: This is one of two chapters posted today!
There were advantages to having a Firecat feeling guiltily obliged to accommodate you, Kir mused, rubbing at his temples as he waited for his headache tea to steep. He had spent the past few evenings examining Kari's strange fire transportation technique – he didn't honestly think he'd ever be able to duplicate it, if his suspicions were correct it relied heavily on the fact that Kari was able to step entirely out of the world physical beings could detect and into the Astral planes. Physical beings weren't meant to be able to do that, there were always horror stories floating around about those who had tried.
But the flames almost seemed a side-effect of Kari's entrance into the world and they didn't have the same origin as his own airborne flames – he ignited the always present particles in the air, harnessing the bits of air that were flammable to fuel it and then letting it run essentially on his will. The flames could still be smothered, they still burned breathable air, but it didn't draw more particles in for fuel – at least not actively.
But Kari's ignition seemed to come from breathable air in itself, without any fuel source from the particles to serve as an ignition point. It gave the flames that bizarre suddenness he'd noticed, because there was no near-instantaneous build up before the air was consumed, the air was just suddenly in the middle of being consumed.
He hadn't quite figured out the trick of it yet, and Kari had extracted a promise that he wouldn't experiment unless the Cat was present to ensure nothing catastrophic happened. By the shift in the humming he had trained himself to hear as background noise – he was expanding his range again, or at least starting to get closer to hearing something even lower in pitch, as he interpreted things. It was probably for the best that he didn't experiment without Kari, he had a suspicion that his control would take a while to catch up when he had the breakthrough.
It was one of the reasons he'd called a halt to things last night – well, that and a headache that formed within two observations. He'd gotten through eight the night before that and the first night he hadn't even bothered to keep count, but it had been until midnight. So instead he spent today working on nothing to do with his flames and managed to keep a headache from developing until midafternoon.
Janner had not been impressed when he'd started wincing in the sunlight after they'd spent some time working on poultices and treatments in the dark room designed for them and he'd been even less impressed when the headache didn't go away after Kir's eyes adjusted. Hopefully the tea would help, he really wasn't looking forward to nursing this headache all day.
Though it would give him another excuse to not pursue this air-ignition technique of Kari's. He was intrigued, it had been so long since he'd found something new to explore with his knack that was so purely technical, but if he was called into combat anytime soon he couldn't afford the potential loss of control.
Judging by the two Hardornen scouting patrols the 62nd had run across since Midsummer, he suspected this spring would see Ancar making a serious attempt on the Karsite border. It gave them a deadline to press against, and he'd already sent Kari back to the Order with word of their suspicions in the hopes it would make them put more focus on training for combat.
Colbern had pulled rank weeks ago and gotten the acolytes and Third Order Firestarters to invest serious time in weapons-training, pulling them into drills with the Sunsguard using a combination of bribery and blackmail that Kir was just grateful had more of the former. Valerik had apparently been bullied into working with them on dirty tricks and hand-to-hand, and the last time Anur and he had tested their skills they'd been approaching decent.
Colbern and Jaina were the only ones he'd consider real threats with steel in their hands, odd weapons choices aside, but the rest could at least do enough damage to have a chance to run or, even better, use their flames. Maltin was the only one still struggling with that just because his primary mechanism of music – and his flute, in particular – required both hands, but as a student he wouldn't be sent anywhere near Hardorn without Kavrick and they still had time for him to improve besides. Not enough, but it was something.
He could feel someone entering the chapel, and he knew Henri was out gathering sage – the man had become somewhat fanatical about sage after their run-in with Markov and who could blame him – and Anur was working with the archers on drills outside the walls. It was something of a luxury to be able to feel comfortable without the other being within sight, or at least within shouting distance, and most days they were with the 62nd they took advantage of it for at least a mark or two.
With mindspeech they were never truly alone anyway.
Picking up his tea, he headed for the main chapel – if it were someone seeking a quiet space, he could simply walk past them to the sacristy and leave them in peace. Otherwise, the odds were good it was someone seeking to speak with him and even now, if he was in his quarters it was rare indeed for someone to knock. He was best served walking out himself.
And this case was certainly one of the latter.
Kir eyed the private sitting in the front pew thoughtfully, the man looking up at him and not saying a word, a determined straightness to his spine even though his hands were clasped together and white-knuckled.
"Private Nichter," he said quietly, his voice still sounding too loud in the silence, "Would you join me for some tea in the sacristy?"
That offer, at least, cut some of the tension and put the younger man off-balance, blinking as his fingers loosened and regained some color, "Ah – yes, your Holiness?"
Leading the man into the sacristy he waved him to a chair while he pulled a mug and bag of tea out of the stash that was hidden away in a side cupboard – he'd really have to speak with Henri, the man was leaving sage bundles everywhere and they'd have no room for anything else at this rate – pouring water from a pitcher and heating it with a grimace. His tea hadn't had a chance to kick in yet.
"I hope you don't mind spice tea," Kir said, careful to keep his tone mild as he passed the mug to the man, ignoring the faint trembling in his hands, "I think Anur has gone out of his way to replace every sachet in the building with it."
"The Lieutenant-Enforcer is very enthusiastic about spice-cake," Nichter agreed, appearing to regain some of his equilibrium as he took a sip, Kir settling in the chair across from him and picking up his own mug. It wouldn't be enough to settle the headache, he was sure, but it couldn't hurt. Besides, he needed something to focus on while he waited for Nichter to bring up his reasons for stopping by – this wasn't a conversation he could prompt.
"Your Holiness – I," Nichter closed his eyes and visibly gathered himself before continuing, "I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but I apologize for what I have done."
Kir blinked, honestly surprised that the man had approached – years after the incident in question – for the purpose of apologizing.
Apparently the man caught it and gave him a sickly sort of smile before focusing on his tea again as he murmured, "I've tried before sir, but never quite made it to your door. I couldn't – I couldn't bear it."
He was being eaten alive by guilt, Kir realized, a slow process, something he'd been able to withstand for a while but it had finally grown to the point he couldn't bear to not say something, to break through this status-quo of simply existing in the same unit without interacting overmuch. He hadn't wanted to approach the man himself – first, because Anur would probably be breathing down his neck the whole time, and second, because he hadn't -
Hadn't wanted to hear the man say something that would force his hands around his neck as Gero had done.
"Private, I have always held you blameless," Kir said gently, "You were frightened, and you thought you were doing the best you could for the unit. I can not blame you for that."
"I nearly killed you," Nichter whispered, a hollow sort of horror in his voice, "I nearly killed you and you're – you're a Sunpriest, your Holiness, a true one, I never – I didn't think a Firestarter could be one and you have a Firecat that comes when you call and the Son of Sun herself smiles upon you and I nearly killed you."
"You did not," Kir replied, tilting his head as he watched the man shake his head, gaze locked on the floor and knuckles white around his mug.
"Private," he finally said, "Look at me."
He waited for him to meet his eyes, the process almost agonizingly slow, before saying firmly, "Know this, Private Nichter. Though the judging will take whatever route Vkandis wills, the one you wronged forgives you."
The Sunsguard dropped his chin, one hand coming up to cover his eyes and shoulders shaking as he wept. Kir stood to make himself another mug of tea, giving him what privacy he could.
Staring at the mug of cool water, he frowned as he realized that mentally heating the water that he was using to brew headache tea for the headache he'd gained by using his gift for flames in the first place was rather counterproductive. But he also didn't want to wait to do this the slow way, over an open flame that he wasn't actively fueling – that wasn't possible in the sacristy besides.
He'd just have to remember that next time, he supposed, heating the tea as quickly as he could and dropping another sachet of herbs in.
Seeing Nichter start to straighten up and wipe at his eyes with his sleeve on the edge of his field of vision, Kir turned and retook his seat, smiling faintly at the man and pleased to see that he looked less burdened than he had arrived. It was always nice, to see someone leave his company more content than they'd arrived.
"Well," he said, "Since I haven't been able to speak with you before now without worrying about Anur swooping in out of nowhere to glower at you and juggle knives, I'm afraid I know far less of you than I do others in this unit. What brought you to the Sunsguard, if I may ask?"
"Nothing dramatic, Father," the man shrugged, hesitating over the less formal title but apparently deciding he wouldn't take offense. "I simply did not see the appeal of the trades that were open to me and thought the Sunsguard was a better choice."
"And what trades were so unappealing?" Kir prompted, settling in for a long chat. It was rare that he got to talk to anyone of such low rank within the unit one-on-one, and he planned to take full advantage of it. Particularly since he wanted Nichter to leave this conversation knowing in his bones that Kir held no grudge, that he was forgiven, truly and completely – at least by him.
Anur would probably never forgive the poor man. Markov had been a hard enough sell and he'd only caused Kir emotional distress and been known to and loved by Anur for most of his life. Nichter didn't stand a chance.
***===***pagebreak***===***
"Well, we don't usually search brigands too thoroughly, but we're going to have to start at this rate," Nakel said, frowning at the Hardornen letters they'd found hidden in the lining of a vest. The corpse in question had, according to the letters, been an officer in Ancar's army and was ordered to continue scouting efforts in Karse with a cohort of blood-bound soldier-farmers as underlings. One had to wonder when he was going to run out of officers, especially if every scouting group was sent out with someone not blood-enslaved – they had killed two known Hardornen scouting groups since Midsummer and at least four sets of brigands with this marking the fifth.
If those four had been sent from Hardorn as well – yes, Ancar was definitely getting ready to move on Karse.
Anur cut Kir a worried look, Kir rubbing the white Companion-hair Sun-in-Glory he only wore over his robes when they were with the 62nd with a faint frown. They'd woken up in the middle of the night with a roar of fire echoing in Kir's mind – and he had immediately declared that the border ward had been breeched by blood-magic and needed to be inspected. A squad had been scheduled for patrol anyway so they joined in with Senior Lieutenant Nakel rounding out their number to nine and had headed off to investigate.
If Kir hadn't been there, none of them would have been able to tell these five men were anything but the brigands they'd presented themselves as. Kir had immediately known that four out of five were bound with blood-magic and the fifth had powerful enchanted items on him, so they hadn't bothered investigating their purpose and had simply engaged. With nine against four and Kir there besides, it hadn't been particularly difficult to crush them without any casualties on their part. Finding evidence that these men were definitely working for Ancar had taken far longer.
"The last Hardornen group was a moon ago, if I remember the reports right," Kir finally said, "And there were far fewer enchanted items."
"Well, those were the enchanted items that survived long enough for you to inspect," Nakel pointed out, "They could very well have decayed over time, or if we picked out the officer incorrectly they could have been burned."
"What I don't understand is why you registered the breach of the wards this time, but not the last two times," Anur finally spoke, looking between the two other men and raising an eyebrow, "The first one, fine, we were in the middle of returning from Sunhame and didn't hear about it until we got back, if it's a proximity thing then that would explain it. But that last group? We were wandering the dead-zone – it was a week before Lenora was captured, we were here. Why didn't that one alert you?"
"I don't know," Kir said uneasily, hands slipping into his pockets and staring at the pile of potential mage-traps they'd dragged clear of the officer's corpse. "None of the others have reported feeling breeches and there have been breeches closer to the Fatlands, those have been reported by the Sunsguard. So I doubt it's a proximity issue."
"Could be the ward gets stronger over time," Nakel suggested, looking dubious even as he said it, "Some sort of distilling process?"
"It could," Kir grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The problem, of course is that this ward was created from a purification ward designed to entirely enclose a polluted area and gradually cleanse the contained land. We managed to anchor it in a line instead, but that took some extremely creative work from some very bright mages in Sunhame and I still don't entirely understand the finicky details of what went into stabilizing it."
"So no one has any idea what this ward could do, is what you're saying," Nakel said, sounding deeply unimpressed.
"All we were really able to know for certain is that it would keep contaminates from ruining Karsite land and fouling Karsite waters and that it wouldn't catastrophically fail and kill us all if something went wrong. That's all we have."
"That was an option?" Anur squawked, feeling suddenly much less sanguine about the whole experimentation with magical wards bit they had done, and even worse, they would be doing sometime near Midwinter. Colbern still hadn't supplied details on these wards in the catacombs Kir might end up helping to reinforce and he didn't even want to think about the possible ways a necromancy based ward could go wrong.
"It's magic, Anur, catastrophic failure killing everyone is always an option," Kir replied, rolling his eyes, "We at least had the assurances of Kari that it would probably work as intended, the majority of magical practitioners have no such reassurances."
"Okay, fair point," Anur said, Nakel shaking his head.
"Better you than me," the Senior Lieutenant said flatly before continuing, jerking his chin at the pile of enchanted items, "What are we going to do with those?"
The pile of potential mage-traps included two knives, a necklace remarkable in how hideous its carved wood charms were, three leather bracelets with decorative stitching he suspected had been deliberately dyed with blood and a hat the man had been wearing in lieu of a helm. Kir had looked distinctly enraged when he'd killed the officer the moment he came in visual range, so Anur could only imagine how disgusting those things looked under mage-sight.
"I'd like to pull Karchanek out here to inspect those enchanted pieces," Kir admitted, "They're strong, and that man was no mage, I'm curious what the point of those things was. There's no reason for you to wait for that – even if Kari agrees to transport him out here it's going to be a mark or two."
"Hmm. Well, the route we have planned takes us further east within the border before looping back towards Hardorn and that stave you planted. Keeping a decent pace with no further troubles the earliest we would arrive there would be midmorning tomorrow. What if you two met us there, with the agreement that you don't go out of your way to beat us?"
"We can agree to that," Anur answered after Kir cast him a questioning look. He didn't care one way or another, and Kir was clearly invested in getting these enchantments looked at by an expert. It would also force someone else high up in Solaris' regard to look at Hardornen magic and see the evil that was spawning, which could only help them when it came to convincing the generals and a significant portion of Sunhame's power bloc that the threat was real.
"Excellent. Father, Enforcer," Nakel nodded shortly before heading back to the squad, assembling them to ride out.
"So – Karchanek. Ask Kari then?" Anur prompted.
"I don't have any other way to contact him quickly," Kir agreed.
They left the enchanted things in their distant pile, the rest of the supplies and intelligence they'd pulled from the bodies was carried off to be secured to packs and horses. He and Kir hauled the officer's corpse onto the pyre the men had built and by the time the squad and Nakel rode off the pyre was well on its way to ash, thick smoke again drifting towards the Hardornen border. He'd have to ask Kir about that, because while poetic, it was highly unlikely that every time they burned Hardornens the wind-patterns sent the pyres' smoke back to that cursed land without some sort of interference.
By the time Karchanek arrived, Kari on his horse behind him, the pyre had burnt to coals and Kir was nearly finished with Seras' intricate page-marker, Anur stretched out next to him and reading. The priest-mage had a bemused expression on his face when he returned Kir's greetings, handing off his horse to Anur with a faint wince when Anur mentioned Riva's presence.
"I suppose I thought the matter was much more urgent than it is," he finally commented, Kir stowing his project away before standing and raising an eyebrow at the man.
"The fight is over, no casualties on our side, and we'll meet up with the rest of the patrol tomorrow. Why not work on our projects in the meantime? This isn't exactly an unusual occurrence, aside from these enchanted objects – there were only three the last time, and none so powerful," he said, walking past the smoldering remnants of the pyre and indicating the carefully separated objects.
"You are correct, of course, I'm simply – unused to it," Karchanek shrugged, crouching near the necklace, "I've spent most of my adulthood in Sunhame, I wasn't let out much before Solaris began her Ascent and even then, this is the first time I'll have spent longer than a week outside the District."
Kir grimaced, horrified at the idea of being stuck within the District for so long and the older man chuckled, glancing up at him and continuing lightly, "No need for such a horrified expression, Incendiary! I do not regret it, and am simply grateful that I managed to reach adulthood as an Adept class mage."
"Fair," Kir acknowledged, unable to entirely hide his surprise at the man's ranking. He had known Karchanek was powerful, but hadn't realized how much – Adept class mages were rare to begin with, not many in the population had the potential, much less the active ability, but for someone that powerful to then not fall into any of the many, many traps Sunhame crafted for those considered strong enough to be a threat?
Magical power would be far from the main reason Solaris had chosen this man as her Hierophant.
Though his skill with magic was impressive, Kir knew enough about enchantment crafting to recognize that as he watched Karchanek inspect the items, occasionally murmuring cantrips to himself or humming snippets of some tune that he couldn't quite recognize. Anur wandered over and watched without bothering to hide his fascination – even Kir's occasional mage-light would spark wonder, which when compared with his casual use of mindspeech or his own Fetching or even Kir's flames seemed utterly incongruous.
"Incandescence, could you melt this link of the chain – just this one?" Karchanek asked, pulling a stalk of grass from the ground to indicate the link he meant. Kir dropped to one knee beside the man, considering the necklace's chain carefully. It wasn't particularly fine, so it was certainly possible…
"If the adjacent links melt a little, but retain their shape?"
"That would be fine," Karchanek assured him, "So long as they don't fuse to the others."
"Ah, that sort of weaving," Kir muttered, eyes narrowing as he considered the piece, "Yes, I can manage that. Anur, could you watch the pyre? I can't focus on it."
"Of course," he agreed, and Kir set to very careful work.
It was nearly dusk by the time all the pieces were neutralized – Karchanek had grown more grim the longer he spent on each piece, but he'd finally pronounced himself satisfied and wrapped each one in its own carefully crafted silk pouch. He hoped to send them to Sunhame for further analysis apparently. Kir would have just burned them, but admittedly that was his solution to most problems involving blood-magic.
"Will you be staying out here with us then?" Kir asked, Anur having set up camp while they worked.
"If you don't mind, Incandescence," Karchanek demurred, "I'd like to see this border ward you implemented."
"You can call me Kir," he said, for the third time that day.
And for the third time that day, the man hesitated over something before shaking his head and smiling, saying, "Allow me my formalities."
"How many, then, were aware of Kir's potential as Solaris' successor before he was ever told?" Anur asked, voice dangerously idle and Karchanek flinched.
Kir grimaced, hands clenching into fists at his side and he looked away, letting his breath hiss out between his teeth.
"I – It shouldn't come to pass," Karchanek said, holding his hands up in a warding gesture.
"And innocent children should never have been sentenced to death by burning alive," Kir said coldly, "Look how well that turned out. My name, Hierophant Karchanek, is Kir Dinesh. I would prefer that you use it."
It wasn't even Karchanek he was furious with, Kir knew himself well enough to know that, but as he strode towards Riva knowing the man wouldn't dare follow with his gelding's reputation, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Solaris should have told him he was considered a potential successor. Perhaps not when she was working on her own Ascent, he could admit that would have only borrowed trouble, but afterwards?
Karchanek apparently knew, or thought he knew, who would follow Solaris should the worst occur and was responding to him accordingly. One would think that the successor in question would at least get a hint!
And no, Kari's existence didn't count!
***===***pagebreak***===***
It had been a long while since he'd been put in his place so easily, Karchanek acknowledged ruefully, staring at the stars during his watch. He'd volunteered for the dawn watch, and Bellamy had immediately claimed the middle watch, probably solely so Dinesh wouldn't have to speak with him in the middle of the night without his Enforcer there to interfere. The man was frustratingly protective but he understood and sympathized entirely.
He had grown up with Solaris, and had known for a long time she was meant for more. It hadn't been so bad when they had been in training. Even when she had become a village priestess, rare for a mage of her strength, it hadn't been difficult to restrict himself to the occasional visit and more frequent – but not suspiciously so – letters. But on her return to Sunhame he had struggled mightily with not jumping in to interfere with her plans in the name of her safety.
Larschen and Grevenor may have had to sit on him more than a few times, and Ulrich had become very good at tracking him down just in time to give him a withering look that made him feel a bare initiate again and then sweeping away without saying a word. Of the four of them he had spent the most time in Sunhame, having few reasons to leave and even fewer occasions to leave without drawing suspicion. It had come in handy occasionally, announcing a journey to one of the more remote temples or holy sites and venturing off to draw attention away from Sunhame.
He had become very good at playing Sunhame politics just enough to seem ambitious, but not so much or so well to be considered a true threat. When Solaris had come to Sunhame he'd been a distraction more often than not, and upon her Ascent he'd reveled in the chance to turn the full of his power to her benefit without too much worry for subtlety. That rampant joy hadn't lasted long though, within a day he'd been sitting in a Council meeting listening to Solaris detail what steps were to be taken if she were to die and even only thinking of that session was enough to feel a chill in his bones.
Looking around briefly, he checked the basic perimeter ward he'd set while they ate – he hadn't mentioned it to the other two though Dinesh had given him a sharp look when the circle closed – and let his eyes shut against the memory, lips tightening as that horrified realization welled again.
"Yes, yes, well done all of us," Solaris had laughed, the golden light that had always enveloped her so much more obvious now that she had nothing to hide, "But to business. The greatest of the reforms I've already announced, now it is a matter of implementation – and insurance. I am confident in my own abilities, and I trust in the Sunlord, but He helps those who prepare for none and I would not see our revolution crash to nothing at my death."
Horrified realization welled in the room and Karchanek had felt a rush of fury when Ulrich only nodded, a sad acceptance in the elderly man's eyes and he had snapped, "You are the Chosen Son, Solaris! You're protected by forces we can't even comprehend!"
"And it would be foolish indeed to count entirely on those forces we cannot comprehend, would it not?" Solaris cut him off, expression stern, "Karchanek, we cannot afford complacency, not now. There must be a succession – the Sunlord's choice, of course, but I will not have any of our Council accidentally undermining my potential successor. He will soon be en route to Sunhame, I sent a summons on the day of my Ascent and I hope to introduce you all to him soon enough, he will be joining our Council."
"As your successor, or has he some other role to play in the meantime?" Grevenor was the one to ask, Larschen still staring at his hands, mute.
"He has quite the role to play in the meantime," Solaris said, a fond smile on her face and Karchanek sternly acknowledged and set aside the surge of jealousy. He had thought he'd worked past this when she'd pulled Larschen into their circle years ago when they were all freshly ordained, but apparently he was still susceptible which wouldn't do at all. It was not this man's fault that he was her chosen successor, and if the Sunlord had chosen him as such he was as close to a true brother as Solaris could ever have. He should be honored to have the chance to even know that two such people existed, not be jealous over the rightful attention Solaris gave him.
"Upon his arrival, he will be taking over as Incendiary."
That had caused an uproar all its own, he remembered, as Ulrich had been the only one of their group to realize Solaris had never intended to disband the Firestarting Order. He hadn't spent much time studying the ancient history of the priesthood himself, to be fair, and without Talented children to be sent to the Fires he hadn't thought there was a purpose to the Order, even taking into account their calling against blood-mages.
Solaris had never forgotten, though, and the implication of what sort of revolution this would turn into if she should die – if a Firestarter were to take leadership of the country, when a Firestarter had never stood as Son of the Sun – had been terrifying. Was still terrifying, because Hansa now at Solaris' side or not, he couldn't forget what she had told them, what he had sworn to do if the worst happened and Solaris was unable to finish her revolution as planned.
He never wanted to see Dinesh in the Son of Sun's robes of office, and the fact that Dinesh found the idea equally abhorrent wasn't as reassuring as it should have been.
It didn't help that the first time he'd actually met the man Solaris had claimed as her successor he'd just been yanked aside by alarmed stablehands and reassured by a clearly terrified stable master that they'd had no idea the berserker horses in question would react in such a violent manner. Hated blondes, please – he would grant that Dinesh's roan clearly had some sort of grudge against him and that his hair color was rather rare in Karse, but there had definitely been stablehands with light enough colored hair that they should have also fallen in that category and the stable master had been honestly surprised at their fit.
He owed the man an apology, though. He hadn't realized no one had told him Solaris had named him her successor amongst her Council, and he owed Dinesh the courtesy of using his name besides. They were equals in the rankings of Sunhame, even if he personally held the man above him with the Firecat he could call and Solaris' own regard, so a first name basis was not out of the ordinary and, as members of Solaris' Council, it could even be considered expected.
It was strange how much more informal a first-name basis felt when the person in question had two names, he mused, standing to wander around the camp and stretch his legs a bit. It was rare within the priesthood for family names to be kept, though quite a few of the remaining initiates and acolytes had decided to retain their family names in the wake of Solaris' reforms. The only fully ordained priests using two names that he could think of off-hand were Kir Dinesh and Fredrick Loshern – he knew there were at least a few more, he just couldn't remember their names, and he wondered at why they'd bothered. And why they'd been allowed.
Something to ask about, one day. A bit of idle curiosity couldn't hurt.
***===***pagebreak***===***
"Well, aside from you spending the last week looking like you wanted to rip Karchanek's throat out with your teeth, I think that went quite well," Kir said dryly, Anur wincing before giving his retort.
"I was not that bad!"
"Lieutenant-Enforcer, I had three different men approach me about the mechanics of getting a body outside the walls without anyone noticing. You were most certainly that bad," the captain said dryly, handing Kir the last of the dispatches intended for Sunhame. With how regularly they traveled, it had become a policy to announce their intended routes well in advance so the men could get the chance to write any letters or wrap any packages intended for people along the way.
Most of them boiled down to deliveries between men formerly of the 62nd and those still stationed in the north, but there were occasional deliveries to civilians too. Aside from those few that Kir had already met – namely, Synia Greves – they always delivered those letters to the nearest priest to continue through the usual mail system. It had worked out to the pair of them knowing the rough location of nearly every hamlet between the 62nd and Sunhame, and with Cora drawing them closer towards Rethwellen than their usual they might start exploring those routes too.
Anur didn't mind – every mel of this country was a mel he never thought he'd be able to see, and Kir didn't go quite as stiff every time a new person came within sight. The traveler's chapels were still their default, but he'd managed to talk Kir into grabbing a meal in the nearest town a few times this year. It was progress.
"Agh. It wasn't even that bad an offense, his timing was just terrible," Anur grumbled, checking the ties on Aelius' saddle once again. They'd seen Karchanek off from his impromptu border tour and one night in the 62nd that morning, and then it had been time for them to pack for their next trip to Sunhame. Five weeks since Kari had vanished with Kir's reply in hand, with a few days before the start of the two week window they'd given Kiara Dinesh.
He couldn't quite decide if he wanted her to show up or not.
"At least I didn't have to put Nakel in charge of keeping him alive," Ulrich allowed, "So it wasn't as bad as you've been in the past."
"That was exactly one time, and it was entirely unnecessary," Anur retorted, knowing very well that the Captain was referring to Nichter and knowing just as well that he had been far from the only reason the Captain had given his second the explicit job of keeping the private alive.
"It let me sleep easier," Ulrich offered a shrug, "Enjoy getting fitted for a dress uniform, Lieutenant-Enforcer, safe travels and patience, Father Kir."
"Vkandis protect and guide," Kir echoed, sketching the Holy Disc in the air and only urging Riva to walk when Ulrich had finished his brief bow.
"So, Aulch?" Anur asked as the gates shut behind them, returning the waves of a few of the men on the wall.
"Rodri sent a letter for them," Kir agreed, and their horses launched forward.
He wasn't unnerved when Aelius' hooves didn't chime anymore, not like the first few years where he'd always taken a few moments in the saddle to realize just what felt wrong about their riding. When Midsummer came he was going to have one hell of a time switching back.
:Oh Chosen, we both will. Though I have to say not needing these goat-patches all the time will be nice. Only getting some good scratching in when we're with the 62nd is very annoying. I'm going to spend half my time rolling when Midsummer comes around.:
:We can give the goat-skins a ceremonial burning,: Anur promised.
:That would smell terrible Chosen, how about you just buy me some of those rolled honey-oats from that farm a day's ride north of Lisle?:
:The slightly fermented ones?:
:You have your prodka, I have mine.:
:Deal.:
Now all they had to do was get there.
Though now that his mind was on Valdemar again -
"Kir, what would it mean if Valdemar doesn't have as clear a boundary with Hardorn?"
Karchanek had been the only one blatantly awestruck at the literal line that marked the border between Karse and Hardorn, but all of them had taken notice of its new nature. The scorch-mark was long gone, but vegetation on the Karsite side looked positively lush in comparison to the Hardornen. The sight of such a clear demarcation without anything else – with no wall, no faint shimmer of air like at the Iftel border, not even that literal scorch-mark to divide things with char – it was uncanny and sent a crawling sense of wrongness down Anur's spine.
It also set off a flare of concern because he hadn't heard anything about such a line in Valdemar and while he might not, he was so rarely there, what if he hadn't heard because there wasn't one? What did that mean for Valdemar, that Hardorn and Valdemar's border wasn't so clearly divided, so clearly off-set, and was there anything he could do to fix it?
He'd left a letter to Naomi with Ulrich – maybe working with her they could figure out a way to ask about the border further from Karse, to find out how things looked when there was no chance of residual Karsite purification helping them out. The witchy-weather Kir had told him about had continued, stronger storms than usual, lasting longer and harder and coming up out of nowhere a few times – but nothing truly unseasonal. There hadn't been any blizzards before the fall equinox, and within a few weeks of the spring equinox they could be pretty sure that any storms were rain with occasional hail.
But how much of that was the Sunlord's interference, and how much of that could be reasonably assumed to hold true in Valdemar too?
"At the worst it would mean that Ancar's blood-magic is starting to poison the land of Valdemar as well," Kir said bluntly, "At the best it would mean that vrondi barrier is capable of subtlety and there's no taint spreading into Valdemar's land, leaving the weather as the most worrisome side effect of nearby blood-magic."
"And witach's brood?" Anur asked, knuckles going white at the thought of those monsters in a land that had no tales of warning, "Do you have any idea what the odds are that they'd start showing up in Valdemar?"
"I would think slim to none based on that vrondi barrier but I really don't know," Kir admitted, "Aelius?"
:I sent word to Rolan and he's spread the word to other Companions,: Aelius offered, :I did that as soon as I could after you first described what witach's brood was and where they appeared – there haven't been any signs that he's reported to me, I think they can be blocked. It would take work, a fair number of Companions would have to be devoted to that purpose but it could be done and I think it is.:
"Well that's something at least," Anur admitted, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably, "I should have thought of it sooner but – it just didn't occur to me, not until I was staring at that border again."
"Out of sight, out of mind," Kir said, wincing, "We'll have to try and make a list."
"Of what, things we should try and keep from happening?" Anur asked incredulously, "That's going to be one excessively long list!"
"I was thinking more along the lines of things we need to accomplish this trip to Sunhame, and during the Midwinter stay in Sunhame," Kir replied.
"And probably also things we need to do before that Midwinter stay in Sunhame," Anur added, sighing. "Fair point. At least now we don't necessarily have to burn our lists."
"No, that will just be the 'things to accomplish before Midsummer' lists," Kir said dryly.
"We could probably write those obliquely enough we'd be fine – and besides, we have enough to do before Midwinter that making any of those longer term lists would just be needlessly stressful. Should we pass through Anika's Oasis on our way to Sunhame?"
"I'd rather not," Kir said, shaking his head, "It takes us out of our way by quite a bit with the letters we have to deliver, and we'll be visiting there within a moon or two regardless since Axeli and I have finally set aside some time to make her that sun-blessed spear."
"That monograph you found for me about sun-blessed steel was decidedly unhelpful, by the way."
"Why do you think it took Axeli and I years to figure out how to do it for molded weapons?" Kir said wryly, "The last moons have been spent trying to work out how to incorporate folding and hammering into the process and even now we don't know for sure it will work as we want. It was never a process accurately recorded, at least not that we can find."
"You'll fix that, right?" Anur prompted.
"Why don't you fix it?" Kir replied, voice slyly amused, "Get you in the archives as an author before everything goes mad?"
"So Seras and the other Archivists can hate me because I ruined their citation strategies? I think not!"