Chapter 24

Into Fire


Good luck, everyone.
Good luck to us all.
And may we meet again on distant shores.
Some place fine and far from here.

-Aiden, Obsidio by Amie Kaufman


When Margane woke up in the morning Bodvar was already gone.

Muttering to herself about her tardiness the marteness leapt off her bed and started to dress. As pleasant as sleep had been, she knew today was a day of action.

In mere moments she had flung the door open, her uniform barely done and her sack clung to her back. As usual Ankarette was on the floor below, busying herself with her knitting while a turnover lay on a plate flanked by two empty ones.

"Dennol and Bodvar left earlier - off to study, they said," said the old otter, not even looking up from her work.

Thanking her with a quick nod, Margane took the pastry and bit into it, licking her lips clean of flakes of bread and the apricot jam Ankarette always managed to find for her at the markets. The streets were quiet except for the unstopping patter of raindrops onto the cobbles that made up the narrow lanes of Floret's centre.

When she made it to the castle (she almost slipped on the long steps twice) she was drenched and freezing, and when she encountered Kiormund and a ferret friend of his (the marteness was not sure if he too was some sort of phantom) they were trying their best not to laugh at her rather dishevelled look. Cursing herself for her ill fortune, she trudged up the steps to Daghild's tower, leaving behind a trail of muddy pawsteps.

Upon pushing the door open, she saw the drowsy face of an otter, cloaked in swaddling nightclothes and taking off his nightcap once he saw Margane enter.

"Oh, you're here," said Oswin, rubbing his eyes. "Just had more dreams about the Emperor's daughter - I cannot believe my precious sleep has to be interrupted by adolescents making stupid mistakes and suffering from the consequences."

"I'm suddenly glad you did not meet us a few seasons younger," replied Margane. "Dennol was absolutely insufferable back then."

"And you were not?"

The marteness shrugged. "Depends on who you ask."

"Rest assured I will. Have you had a meal yet?"

"A quick one," said Margane, nodding. "I do wish I could make myself a warm bath, or a change of clothes."

"Yes, I can see why. Or more accurately, smell why, but that's besides the point."

"Why did you call me here today? In the morning? Alone?"

"The first thing you should know is that I believe you, and only you, are the Taggerung."

Margane blinked. "And the second?"

"That means your brother is not the Taggerung. Please try to keep up."

"Is there a third?"

"Well, the third thing you have to know is that you should not let anyone else know about it as usual… especially him."

"And why do you think it's me and not him?"

"He is strong, stocky and muscular - the very look of the typical Taggerung. And I suppose the Fates could choose to subvert the expectations of the poor fools whose strings they tug on - and once they know they could they would."

Margane shot her a glance. "Are you saying I do not look the part?"

"Heh, you're a bit too thin if you ask me. Perhaps if you put some more flesh on your bones your ottery friend wouldn't even consider leaving you - ever!"

The marteness frowned. "That's it?"

"Well, no." Oswin smirked. "Daghild has talked Rikart into letting you go on a little mission into Juska territory."

Margane's heart skipped a beat. "I wasn't informed."

"And neither was I. I'm a teacher, not a leader. Or one of those politicians who speak of much, do little, and keep their paws far, far away from the action." The otter yawned widely. "Would you like to get some breakfast with me while I continue to speak of what Daghild has planned?"

"I had it already, but I suppose some more food for the journey back won't hurt."

"Great. I think I have some bread saved up here…"

It took Oswin a few minutes to heat up a little cauldron of water for the teapot, and grab a loaf of hard bread and some cheese that was almost as hard. It was not Margane's favourite type of meal, but her past experiences as a soldier had informed her that a fuller belly was always better for all purposes.

"Do you know what the Juska are like?" Oswin asked between swallows. "I believe you've actually been to their lands before."

"They're vermin who prefer squabbling amongst themselves above sending raiding parties into our territories," replied the marteness, gulping down a chunk of cheese. "But in the latest seasons they've all but stopped altogether."

"They're squabbling amongst themselves more than usual… and I think it's because they've found a Taggerung. Well, not really. Each tribe seemed to have vomited one from their bowels."

"Not great imagery for a mealtime conversation," said Margane, reaching for the teapot. "But what Daghild wants is to send a real one in and sort things out. But why? I thought a divided Juska means no raiding."

"That puzzled me at first as well," said the otter, wiping the tip of his snout with a little piece of cloth. "But then Daghild explained to me what was happening. Remember Marlguard?"

"It's a Lordship held by, hm, some Travrikan. One of Erlend's friends who refuses passage to our troops-" Margane's eyes widened. "Unless when forced."

Oswin nodded. "Just in case there's a war we don't have to worry about the Juska, while Lord Rainpeer does. With luck we can dislodge him from the territory completely if we combine our forces well, and maybe they can be peacefully integrated into civilisation."

"That would mean war with Erlend," said Margane, feeling birds flutter around in her stomach. "Is this one of Lamont's plans?"

"The Steward does not know about this. The Steward has no idea that war is coming whether we want it or not," said Oswin, reaching for the teapot. "That is what Daghild said, and Rikart agreed with it. We have the emperor in the castle now, trying to keep the peace long enough for them to assure victory when it does not last. There are rumblings in Laskaros as well, rumours of ships being constructed in haste in their Western Isles. And anything could happen when Lamont accompanies Kiordan back to Gystra, where I bet they'll try leading each other around their noses, only to find out the world does not orbit around their wills, large as they might be. No peace in the South lasts for two decades."

"That means I have to speak with Daghild, right?" Margane licked her lips free of breadcrumbs. "About the whole mission."

"Yes, I think she wants you to meet more new beasts. You need guides into the forests of Southern Mossflower, and other Thaumaturges to watch your back."

"Partners, hm? Could I try bringing Bodvar with me? If I leave after his examinations, that is."

"I'll put in a good word with the mole." Oswin smirked before he put the teapot over his snout, pointed its spout down at his muzzle, and waited for the tea to pour into it.

Margane winced. "Have you always drunk like that?"

He put down the container and swallowed. "Tea from the pot, wine from the bottle, beer from the keg. I have to cultivate my signature otherworldly air somehow."

"Aren't there better ways to do that?"

"Perhaps, but there is no method that is more direct…"

"I thought you didn't like being direct."

"Only in speech, Margane. Only in speech."


When the rains ceased and Margane could leave the castle once more she was greeted with Daghild's smiling face and, more refreshingly, a set of new clothes.

"So, did Oswin bother you that much?" asked the mole.

"Not really, aside from his suspicious handling of the teapot."

"Eh, you'll get used to him sooner or later. He has his quirks."

"So… what do you want me to do now? I've heard we need to head to Juska lands."

"I don't need to be a Conjurer to know you'll ask if you can bring Bodvar next, which is fine - a healer is always good to have for a companion. But then, I fear you will need a bit more help on your journey."

"Oswin told me about the other Thaumaturges."

"Alright, then things are smoothened. Would you like to go meet them?"

"I suppose. Better now than later."

The pair of Thaumaturges trod over wet cobbles as they witnessed Floret spring back to life once more. Children were chasing each other through the alleyways as merchants unloaded their wares, muttering grateful sentences about the rain not delaying the markets. There were the usual blue-coated soldiers, the marten's sworn brothers and sisters, but there were fewer of them than she had ever seen before. They were being pulled away, thought Margane, to the mountains and to the rivers.

To Margane's surprise Daghild did not lead her to the fortress by the walls, nor was she being directed back home. Instead, the mole was almost giddy to enter the pretentious establishment where the pair had breakfast with Lamont.

Entering the room where they had just sat in but days ago, Margane was greeted with beasts she had not met yet. There was a mousemaid who was busy speaking to the beast on her left, a fox who was trying to shift away. A short otter grabbed a roll of bread from the table as a tattooed hedgehog watched in silence.

"Oh look, you must be Margane," said the mouse, waving at the marteness. "Bodvar told me all about you!"

"I'm sure he did, Nola," interjected the fox, yawning. "He tends to be as talkative as you."

"Never thought you were a Thaumaturge too," mumbled the otter through a mouthful of bread.

"You're still miffed about her humiliating you in training, I take it?" asked the hedgehog, who had a deep voice for a female. "Everybeast saw you there, being carried from the training grounds on a stretcher while your friends composed poems about poor, poor Alphard?"

The otter said nothing, though Margane did not know whether it was because he was reminded of that bad day, or because he was distracted with his mouthful of bread.

"Alright, enough talk," said Daghild. "I was planning to have each of you sit together and name one interesting thing about yourself… but I am not a monster."

"Let's hope you stay that way!" interjected Nola, grinning. A glare from the mole quickly killed her smile.

"Anyway, you have to set off for Juska territory in a week or two, depending on the condition of the roads."

"Hm, I would have thought it would be earlier," confessed the fox, soot-black fur bristling.

"Do you or do you not want more time to pack, Paskoll?"

"Fair enough," he replied, "I suppose I can wait a bit more - I assume I can tinker with more blacksmith stuff in the meantime - have to make sure Master Lofarn knows as well."

"You'll have enough time to say your goodbyes," said the mole as she nodded. "We should be able to meet again - I will have to move all the necessary chairs up to the tower."

"Yer know we could just stand, right?" asked the hedgehog, still motionless and still emotionless. "Saves yer the trouble."

"Thank you, Frenna, for your astute observation," spat the mole. "But I'm afraid we have a policy of treating our guests as well as we are able to." There was a brisk push at the door before a grey, wrinkled squirrel pushed in a cart carrying bowls of steaming soup. Alphard's eyes lit up, Nola's ears lifted, and even Paskoll could not resist a smile. "Speaking of which…"


When Margane returned home she was hastily ushered into the kitchen by Ma Ankarette. The little room was a mess. The beast who raised her was making a huge mess.

"I don't trust you to cook," muttered the otter. "Not after last time."

"It still tasted good!"

"And the stomachaches were totally worth it, yeah, yeah." Ankarette reached for the marteness's paw and shoved several pieces of metal into it before returning to grab a particularly ripe tomato. "Ten dinari - go get us some wine please. Urza doesn't drink, but we both know Bodvar would love something good."

"Urza's coming here? Why?"

"Dennol's leaving for Redwall in two days, and you'll be gone by Waterrise. We should celebrate with the time we have left here in Floret."

Margane sighed. "We'll miss you. All three of us."

Ankarette turned to face her. "Bodvar isn't leaving."

"He isn't?" The soldier felt two or three coins slip from her paw. " I thought his tests would be over by that time."

"Somebeast has to take care of me while you're gone…"

"You did just fine three seasons ago!"

"Last time he was part of an army. This time he wouldn't even have ten companions with him!"

"I can watch over him! Don't you trust me? Don't you trust the beast you raised yourself?"

Ankarette looked up at her charge, down at her paws, then up again before she shook her head.

"Fine!" shouted the marten, picking up the few coppers and storming out.

Margane could count herself lucky that the rains had ceased. The air was still chilly and moist, and that made her fur stand on end.

Locating a wine-merchant in the square did not prove to be hard, but haggling the price down to what money Margane had did. In the end she had to part with two more coins than Ankarette had given her, and as she clutched the bottle in her paw, lost in thought, she almost bumped into a tall and lanky otter, thick grey fur shifting in the breeze.

"Wine's sold here?" asked the stranger, rubbing his head as if Margane was not too short to bump into it.

The marteness nodded. "Yes, depending on how expensive-"

The otter ignored her as he walked towards some barrels, muttering something about wanton Southswarders and strange vermin. With her paws tucked behind her back Margane could not resist a rude gesture. She wondered if he was observing her, but when she turned her head his tired green eyes were focusing on the texts scrawled on the oaken containers. He's not from around these parts… but that doesn't excuse him from being a-

Margane pushed her thoughts away before she could decide on which term applied to the otter. Once she was certain he was no longer in sight, Margane took out a paw and shielded her eyes from the red light of the setting sun, which made its way into the streets from beyond the western sea. Grey cobbles and dull roofs were lit yellow and orange, and children fled back into the safety of their homes, fearing the dark and what it usually brought. The marteness thought of a time when she and Dennol chased each other across the hull of their ship, their home, back in a time when neither sibling had blood on their paws.

"Margane!"

The soldier smiled as she turned to where the voice came from. "Dennol! What are you doing here today?"

"Ankarette told me to fetch you - she got worried when you left without saying goodbye."

"Nice of her to do that," spat Margane.

"She also told me she's sorry."

The marteness shrugged. "I can handle that later. But first I bought you this!"

Dennol smiled. "A bottle of perry, hm?"

"From the south, just above the Greatrange, and made with the toughest of pears." Margane winked as she passed the bottle to her brother. "I know you like it - it is your night, after all. It's worth all twelve dinari."

"That makes one grosso… but I suppose all of us have been saving up. Especially Ankarette."

"Ten of those came from her," she replied, allowing Dennol to infer where the other two came from. "We're lucky she gets paid extra for taking care of us."

"Bodvar is also lucky to get everything from her, and you're lucky you're staying with him for the foreseeable future." The marten chuckled as he started walking back home.

"Speaking of Bodvar…"

"Yes?"

"How was your day with him today?"

"Tedious, exhausting and more physical than I would prefer, but I've got a feeling you would have enjoyed it." The marten shook his head. "That might actually be one of the reasons he got me to help him figure out his anatomy practicals - you two would get distracted far too easily."

The marteness wondered what to say as she felt her ears droop. "Yes, we would."

The pair of siblings stood in silence for a moment in the waning sunlight before Dennol stirred. "We should return home quickly - the otters are waiting. Don't worry. We'll continue this conversation never."


Dennol was apparently right about Ankarette saving up her coins.

The table in the dining room was crammed with food. There was a pie stuffed with grouse and glazed with a sizable helping of applesauce, and next to it was a massive Travrikan salmon broiled in a dark vinegar from Ilsadia across the Ring Sea. Both otters and both martens gulped down their servings with the pear cider Margane bought before tucking into the dessert - fried dumplings stuffed with whipped greensap cream and even more pears.

Tidying was the toughest part after the feast, but thanks to the alcohol, even that passed all too quickly. So did Margane's stammered apology towards Ankarette, who was more than likely just as drunk. If I ate like this every night I'll find myself as plump as Kiormund… and probably die of some stroke or heart attack, which isn't that bad of a way to go to be honest. Heh, it must be nice being a blue-blooded dunce.

Stumbling into her room, the marteness quickly undid her buttons and felt her uniform slip to the ground. Margane took a look at the bed and found Bodvar gently snoring, rudder coiled around his legs. With a chuckle she grabbed her nightclothes and swiftly put them on. She rolled next to her otter, wrapping over his body with one paw as she blew out the candle lighting the room.

Margane closed her eyes. The two of us will always be one. Always.


When Margane opened her eyes all she saw was herself.

She was floating in a void, and every few feet away lay another version of her. The marteness lifted an arm, and her mouth opened silently as she saw all her copies follow suit at the same moment, until her disoriented eyes could not focus across the distance.

"Oh, you're here. Neat!"

"Who the heck are you?" asked Margane, remembering when it was, then where she was. "And what have you done to my dream?"

"No, it's my dream, I pulled you into it, you're welcome."

"Then why aren't you showing yourself?"

"Look, I'm getting to that point - that's what beasts mean when they say they're going for a date completely blind, right?"

The mysterious beast's laughter was cut short by Margane. "I'm sorry - I'm not open in that aspect… especially for a beast who laughs at his own jokes!"

"Eh, fine." The voice moved above her. "Can't an oldfur get some affirmation?"

"Yes, I can tell - your sense of humour is trapped in the past!"

"I cannot say you're wrong… and you do have a point. Instead of verbally abusing each other through a screen of darkness maybe we could meet face to face?"

All of Margane's reflections disappeared as she suddenly collapsed onto an opaque glass floor, stained white and black and red. She quickly scrambled to her footpaws as the face of a greying otter emerged into view. The marteness felt her paws heat up as she prepared for him to make the first attack, but as she blinked and her vision became clearer she found he was standing still, with his arms crossed and eyes squinted. "I've seen you before… right?"

"Huh, I didn't know you had muscles - all the martens I've met before were slim." The otter winked. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself yet. Kiordan Skyward, long list of titles affixed that neither of us are in the mind to go through. I believe you've heard of me."

"Yes, from Oswin who wants you dead for some reason," snarled Margane, "so you'd better explain yourself before you're left a smoldering wreck!"

"What reason exactly?" asked Kiordan as silence filled the space. "He's not one to disclose all the details… or has he changed? Never mind that." A rotating globe manifested into the otter's paws. "Let us give you a reason!"

Margane spun around to see the sides of the platform turn white and mist over. She tensed as the edge made a howling sound.

"I would advise you to stand away from the boundary - the winds could pull you apart limb from limb. Now, you can either tell me what you know of Oswin, or come here, take a swipe at me and show me what you've learned from him!"

The marteness rolled her eyes. "You do know I can wake up at any moment, right?"

"Erm, yeah, I do." Kiordan frowned. "Totally and entirely. Haven't overlooked that."

"Then you should've seen this coming." Margane snapped two claws together, and she was out of the Dreamscape.

Opening her eyes and digging her paw from beneath Bodvar's body, the marteness's brows furrowed. "Huh," she mumbled to herself as she rubbed her claws together. "Didn't expect it to be that easy."


C/N: I have to get back to sleep soon, so I should not delay.

Anyway, glad to see the length get back to normal - the author's struggling with uni, but I hope this sticks. As for the chapter contents... it's hard accomplishing both things I'm here to do - remind everyone that Oswin's side of things exists, and to allow you, dear readers, an opportunity to observe the world through the eyes of commoners. Kiormund and Lorelei are both snobles, while Egil's doing quite well in the cash department and so his view might be tainted by his family sucking up to important beasts too much. Note to self: if I'm the Taggerung and everyone knows it, apply the inverse immediately.

In any case, most fiction in historical settings often overlook nine out of ten beasts because they were born to the 'wrong' parents, so it makes sense that I'll have a presence. It does not make sense that I only get so few chapters... but I don't want to fight the author about it. I've made enough enemies.

Send some reviews over, and don't forget to tell the author you're reading for ME. Not the ferret, not the little otter, and certainly not Kio! That should propel me into the spotlight! Spotlights haven't been invented yet, you say? Right, let me think of another metaphor...