THE ATHIEST

***** Part One *****

"Stop it," I ordered coldly.

My name is James and I am a Lord of the Blood, but once I was far more. Sometimes I may be forced to raise my voice, but unless it is absolutely necessary I will not generally do so. That way, if I ever do shout, it's more effective simply because of the shock value.

In the midst of an angry and restive crowd, two furious Blood ronin were beating a Wilder to death. Actually, given how enraged the ronin looked, I was surprised they hadn't used their claws. That, of course, would have definitely ended the Wilder's life.

Nobody in the crowd of onlookers seemed inclined to intervene on the Wilder's behalf.

One of the ronin glared over his shoulder at me. Then he blinked in surprise. Grabbing the other ronin by the shoulders, he dragged his comrade away from their now-unconscious victim. I noted the dark-red cloak that the Wilder was wearing. The cloak meant that he was in the army's Psychic Company. He was a free telepath not beholding to a Lord, the Fire Lady, or any secular psychic organization.

"My Lord," the calmer ronin said after a hasty bow. The other quickly and awkwardly copied him.

"What's this about?" I asked.

The angrier of the two ronin pointed a hand shaking with anger at the unconscious man. "Lord James! He denied the Old One! We heard him!"

The other ronin nodded his head in agreement, but he couldn't quite meet my eyes. I was pretty sure that the two of them were telling the truth as they understood it.

Beside me, Raven - my most senior Samurai - sighed and slid off her horse. Walking over to the Wilder, she crouched down and checked on him. We both knew he was still alive, but it was a reasonable question if he was going to stay that way.

"He should live, Lord James," Raven reported, "but it would be best if we got him to a healer."

I nodded. "Put him on your horse."

Then I glanced at the two ronin. "Go. And in the future leave religious chastisement to the Temple. That's their job."

Obviously unsure of their footing, the two ronin bowed once again, stuttered a nervously polite farewell, and then vanished into the crowd of now-disappointed bystanders.

I looked around and locked eyes with an older ronin. He immediately straightened up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"That damn fool psychic was shooting his mouth off," the ronin answered disgustedly. "He said the Old One is just an illusion, and that we Blood are fools for serving him. I guess he didn't realize that there were some of us in earshot. Or maybe he was just trying to commit suicide."

I glanced around, wondering if there was a dead man nearby. "Who was he talking to?" I asked.

The older ronin shook his head. "Some idiot of an Angel. He took wing as soon as he saw those young fellows coming."

With a grunt, Raven heaved the Wilder across her saddle. Blood trickled to the ground. Raven tied a cloth around a cut in the Wilder's head. That was his most obviously severe injury.

"Take him to the tent," I told her. "Have him healed. He will be questioned."

There was a ripple through the surrounding troops. I assumed they thought the questioning would be a brutal affair.

Then I pitched my voice so it would carry. "Remember my words! If something like this happens again, summon the priestesses! Do not presume to do their job for them! Such an act is displeasing to the Temple!"

Then I looked around, meeting eyes. Some gazed back at me. Some looked away. All seemed to respect the message I'd given them.

"You have duties to perform," I added, "go do them."

The crowd shuffled apart.

The healer was named Madeline and she was a mage of House Drumm. She was a young Folk woman with very dark skin and curly black hair. The tents of the House Drumm mages were located nearby, and Madeline had appeared as soon as Raven asked for help. She's a quiet and grave woman who takes her calling very seriously.

"He'll live, my Lord," Madeline told me as she dried her hands with a cloth. Actually, she'd used non-magical methods to deal with most of the Wilder's injuries. Then she cast a quick spell to heal the cut on the Wilder's head and deal with any possible internal bleeding.

"Thank you, Madeline," I told her. She bowed very low, picked up her bag of instruments and herbs, and left my tent.

Raven was standing next to me. Jessica - my bodyguard-concubine - was by the tent opening.

Emma - my second wife - knelt next to the Wilder and put a hand on his forehead.

"His name is Andrew," Emma told me. "He's part of the Company of Psychics. But he's been beaten so badly that I can't get much else."

I took a moment to consider Andrew. He was a man of medium height and skinny build, with a brown hair and a vaguely ascetic and scholarly look about him. He really didn't strike me as someone who should be intent on angering Blood warriors.

The Psychic Company was made up of volunteers. Most of them aren't particularly powerful, but when combined they were a valuable tool. We generally distribute them among different formations and they provide safe and sure communication between commanders. Over the centuries, I've several times lead armies that didn't have efficient psychic communication. That was always a morass of misunderstood orders, lost formations, unclear situations, and general confusion.

So Free Psychics were useful. So useful that we couldn't afford to lose one.

But I just couldn't allow Andrew to wander off. By now, more than a few Blood knew about Andrew, and it was unlikely that they'd all react calmly if they encountered him.

And it wasn't as if the Blood were Andrew's only problem. If Andrew fell into the clutches of the priestesses, they might very well decide that his words warranted death.

Raven looked at Emma. "Honored Lady, can you get a few words out of him?"

Emma frowned slightly but then concentrated.

Andrews's eyes half-flickered open.

"Wha..." he said dazedly. "Wha'sa d'stahp? Stop!"

Raven had her head cocked as she looked at Andrew. Something in her neck seemed to flutter. It's not widely known, but Raven is a quite powerful shape-shifter.

Andrew went silent. His part-open eyes closed. Then he fell back into his healing sleep.

"Wha..." Raven said slowly. "Wha'sa d'stahp? Stop!"

She sounded almost different. And it was a man's voice.

Then Raven coughed and tried again. "What? What are you doing? Stop! Stop!"

Raven's words were clearer now, but she definitely sounded like Andrew.

Shaking her head in amusement, Emma looked through her clothes bag, and then pulled out a wide belt, doubled it over, and slapped it against the palm of her hand.

Emma whirled, her long black hair flying, and cracked her belt against a tent post. It made a most suitable noise. Then Emma did it again.

"No! No, please!" Raven screamed in Andrew's voice. "Please, Lady Emma! Please stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Tell me everything, you damned miscreant!" Emma shouted. "I want names! Who else have you been talking to?!"

Crack!

"AIIIEEE!" Raven shrieked convincingly. "Please, oh please, stop!"

Jessica was watching in amazement, slowly shaking her head.

Crack!

"I swear I'll tear the damned hide off of you!" Emma bellowed. "Now! Give! Me! Names!"

I had a council to attend. Trying not to smile, I left the tent. Jessica hastily followed me out.

Outside, everyone within hearing range was staring.

The council-meeting took a fair amount of time. It was nightfall by the time I returned.

There was the usual guard detail around my tent. The samurai commanding the night-watch was a fellow named Daniel. He was a serious, stolid, and competent individual, and I was glad to have in my service.

"My Lord," he said with a nod as I approached. As was only right, Jessica was still beside me.

Daniel had the look of a man with a something on his mind.

"Is something wrong, Daniel?" I asked mildly. I had a suspicion what the problem was.

After a brief pause, Daniel carefully spoke up. "My Lord, I'm worried about the prisoner. Lady Emma... well, she really laid into him. And he's just a Wilder. If she does that again, she'll probably kill him. And unless you have a necromancer around, dead men can't give you much information."

I nodded. "Thank you, Daniel. I understand your worry and I'll talk with Lady Emma. Perhaps her outrage got the better of her. It really doesn't pay to anger a priestess."

"Yes, my Lord," Daniel said. He seemed relieved by my words.

It was a shame that he would have to be disappointed.

I entered the tent.

Andrew was still peacefully asleep.

Emma's robe had been slipped down from her upper body. She was wincing as Raven carefully massaged her shoulder.

"I got caught up in the moment," Emma complained. "I pulled something."

"My Lady, next time let me do the whipping," Raven told Emma reproachfully. Then she twisted something in Emma's shoulder.

"Ouch! Yes, Raven."

Jessica had a long blanket slung over one shoulder. She opened Andrew's shirt and carefully rubbed the blanket over his body, embedding as much of his scent into the blanket as she could. Andrew stirred and mumbled something in his sleep.

I took off my chain jacket and rolled up the sleeve of my padded cotton under-armor. Then I opened a claw as Jessica carefully pulled the blanket shut around Andrew. Once the blanket was closed, he'd be completely concealed.

Raven looked at me. "My Lord, I'll take care of that..." she began.

"It's fine, Raven," I told her. Then I opened a long cut in my forearm and allowed my blood to soak into the blanket. I emphasized the area around Andrew's head.

Sometime around midnight, Raven and Jessica carried Andrew's blanket-covered body out of the tent. Then they threw it over a horse. Jessica rode off with it.

The Blood of my night-watch looked grim. Daniel approached me.

"This is my fault, my Lord," Daniel said softly. "I knew it was going too far. I should have intervened."

I put a hand on Daniel's shoulder. His head cocked slightly as he caught the scent of blood on me, but he couldn't tell whose blood it was. Just to confuse the issue, I had Andrew's shirt on under my hauberk.

"Daniel, nobody - not even me - 'intervenes' with Emma when it comes to religious matters," I told him quietly. "This wasn't your fault."

I said no more. I obviously couldn't criticize Emma to Daniel. He understood that.

"Yes, my Lord," Daniel said heavily. Then he returned to his post.

The next morning, Emma and I rode out into a scatter of small road-side holdings that were located south of the encampment. Raven accompanied us. She had Sam and Jay, a pair of young and particularly trustworthy Samurai, with her.

Jessica and Andrew were in an empty cabin a mile or so off the road. Raven, Sam, and Jay remained outside as Emma and I entered the cabin.

Andrew looked suitably out of sorts but mostly recovered. He and Jessica were playing a game that involved rolling dice and moving pieces between locations on a soft-leather map. It was the kind of game - dependent primarily on luck - that you played with a psychic.

Andrew froze, eyes wide, when he saw Emma and I.

Jessica picked up the dice and counters, rolled up the map, and moved away from Andrew. She took up a position near the door.

"Welcome back to the living," I told Andrew as I sat down on the crate-fragment Jessica had been using for a chair. Emma perched herself next to me and took one of my hands in hers.

There was no point to introducing ourselves. Andrew knew who we were.

"So what happened, Andrew?" I asked mildly.

There was a long pause as Andrew tried to adjust to our presence.

"My Lord, I was stupid," he finally said. He was obviously expecting something terrible to happen.

"No argument there," Emma said ominously.

"I was talking to... somebody," Andrew told us. "We began discussing the Believer theory of the Great Spirits. We lost track of our surroundings and didn't notice that some Blood were coming up behind us. They overheard our conversation and reacted poorly."

Emma winced and used her good hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Where are you from, Andrew?" I asked,

"Axle, my Lord. It's a village just south of Nyagra."

"I assume your home is mostly inhabited by Wilder and Folk?" I asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Andrew said.

"Well, you've just received a lesson about Blood hearing," I told Andrew. "It's very good."

Andrew tried to nod, but winced in pain and touched his head. "Yes, my Lord."

Emma was wearing the full robes of a Priestess of Lady Grey. She looked very deep into Andrew's eyes.

"Your life is mine, Andrew," she told him flatly. "I could have you burned at the stake. And that's actually one of the least painful options I have available for dealing with you."

"Yes, my Lady Priestess," Andrew said shakily. He was trying to be brave and I couldn't help but respect that. I also noticed his use of the old - and correct - formulation of Emma's titles. Not many people know how to do that properly. In the modern era, that combination is usually restricted to the older tales of bards. It struck me as an indication of intelligence, education, and perhaps a certain lack of worldliness.

"Why are you with the army, Andrew?" I asked. "You have no formal obligation to a Lord. You don't have to be here."

He answered without hesitation. "My Lord, the Creed are here because they once raised a great army and almost destroyed everything south of the Ont. If they were to do that again, my village and my family might be wiped out. I'm here to help make sure that never happens."

I nodded and leaned back. There was really no more part for me in this matter. From then on, it was a religious issue.

"Andrew, tell me about the Believer heresy," Emma ordered.

Andrew gulped as his shell of brittle courage acquired a few cracks.

"The Believer theory is based on a rational, telepathically-influenced, understanding of the nature of the goddesses and the Great Spirits," Andrew began uneasily.

Emma nodded but said nothing. Her cool blue eyes were staring at Andrew.

Andrew took a deep breath and continued. "The theory holds that there are no goddesses or Great Spirits in the sense that we commonly understand them. Rather, they are a psychic impression, leftover from the last days of the Folk Ascendancy. When people of faith interact with what they feel are powerful spirits, they're deluding themselves. They never actually communicate with a conscious and aware being that has true volition. They're essentially just talking to themselves as they tap into a psychic force. The formalized belief in those spirits by most of the population actually feeds more psychic energy into those psychic constructs and thereby sustains them."

Andrew ground to a halt. Emma and I looked at each other.

Then Emma sighed. "Do you believe that?" she asked Andrew.

Andrew hesitated. Then he realized there was no point in trying to lie to a Fire Priestess. So he took a deep breath and said the bravest thing of his young life.

"Yes, I do, Lady Priestess."

After that, he leaned back and waited for us to kill him.

"So you consider the Believer heresy to be supported by telepathic insights?" Emma asked. "I assume that's what you meant when you described the heresy as 'telepathically-influenced'?"

Andrew immediately bobbed his head. "Yes, Lady Priestess. Whenever psychics are in the presence of a supposed spiritual communication, they have reported only sensing one side of the conversation."

A slightly mocking smile appeared on Emma's face. "Andrew, you do understand that somewhere between a quarter and a third of all the priestesses in the world are psychics? And some are very powerful psychics?"

Andrew nodded again. "Yes, Lady Priestess. That's a common argument against the Believer hypothesis. Shouldn't a Fire Priestess realize that she's dealing with a non-sentient force?"

I smiled at Andrew. "Well, perhaps not. Tell me, Andrew, have you ever heard the ancient arguments about machine intelligence?"

"No, my Lord," Andrew answered dubiously.

"I'm not surprised," I told him. "There's an interesting concept created by a scholar during the late years of the Folk Ascendancy. It dealt with the possibility of creating complex engines that simulated the human mind. The scholar who created it described it as a test."

Andrew looked interested. He was the kind of man who could be distracted from even his imminent death by a bit of historical and scholarly lore. Really, it was going to be a shame to lose him.

I continued. "The test was based on the question of how you could tell if such an engine was actually a person, rather than simply something cleverly designed to pretend it was human. It suggested that if a person and a device were communicating at a distance - as with psychic communication - and if the person simply couldn't tell, even after an extended conversation, that he was talking to some kind of device, then to all purposes he was talking to something that had existence as a sentient being."

Andrew considered that for a long moment. "I see what you are saying, my Lord, but it seems to me that a step is missing. In the long run, your person is talking to either a cunning engine or an actual person. The fact he's being fooled doesn't transform the engine into a person."

I nodded. "I've thought the same thing. But do you see the application here? At what point is your 'psychic impression' actually a spirit? What if they're one and the same? And how do we tell the difference?"

"We can tell because of the inability of an outsider to sense actual communication," Andrew pointed out. "If he can't discern it, then there's no real communication occurring. Absent actual communication, there's no spirit, only illusion or delusion. That's the crux of the Believer theory."

Emma shook her head. "Any acolyte will tell you that the reason for supposed telepathic one-sidedness is because the goddesses and the Great Spirits are actually within us - a part of us - when we communicate. They speak to us spirit-to-spirit, not mind-to-mind."

Andrew frowned. "That seems like an overly-convenient line of argument. Evasive and perhaps simplistic."

The look that appeared on Emma's face suggested that she regretted leaving her big belt back in camp. I gave her hand a strong squeeze.

"What if I told you that my husband and I have simultaneously communicated with both a goddess and a Great Spirit?" Emma finally said.

That made Andrew pause.

"I don't wish to be insulting," he eventually said - he was perhaps a bit late with that, but I privately celebrated his effort.

I shrugged. "We haven't killed you yet, Andrew. Take a chance."

He nodded. "It seems possible that the Lady Priestess contacted a psychic impression and simply passed her interpretation of it on to you."

"That brings us back to 'what is a psychic impression?'," I pointed out.

"That's fair," Andrew admitted.

Emma laughed. "Welcome to theological inquiry, Andrew. However, let me make a suggestion: don't get yourself killed while doing it. There are times and places for that sort of thing, and a camp filled with simple, honest, and ready-to-be-angry Blood is not one of them."

"Yes, Lady Priestess," Andrew responded ruefully.

I got to my feet. "Andrew, you are dismissed from the service of this army. I regret losing you, but I'm not interested is seeing you killed because of your unwise words."

Andrew didn't protest. He understood how untenable his situation was. And I assume he was certainly happy with being allowed to live.

Then I continued. "There is a northern force operating on the coast of the Ont Sea. They also have a psychic detachment and I'm sure they could use you."

Andrew perked up. "Yes, my Lord!"

"And from now on, Andrew, be more careful of what you say and where you say it."

"Yes, my Lord."

I helped Emma to her feet.

Then she gave Andrew a long and amused look.

"The Lady of Fire has surprised me, Andrew," Emma said. "More than once. She's surprised me in ways that strike me as quite real. Quite womanly as a matter of fact."

Andrew is a scholarly soul who's honestly interested in the truth. So he eagerly leaned forward and fell right into Emma's trap.

"What do you mean, Lady Priestess?" he asked interestedly.

Emma smiled at Andrew. "The Holy Lady of Fire, Goddess of the Mind, Speaker to All, and Imprisoner of the Phoenix, really prefers it doggy-style."

It took a second for that to register with Andrew. Then he stared at Emma in shock.

"She also loves it when you nibble on the edges of her ears and the nape of her neck," I added.

"And she's ticklish on the backs of her knees. I mean really ticklish," Emma chuckled.

Emma leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Let's go, dearest. I feel the need for some spiritual solace."

Jessica held the door for us as we left. The look she and Emma exchanged as Emma brushed closely past her was... intense.

Behind us, Andrew just sat frozen as he stared out at a world that was - one way or the other - different from what he'd recently imagined.

***** Part Two *****

I was once again back in Nyagra. Off in the distance, I could hear the roar of the legendary falls.

My name is Andrew and I'm a psychic. Actually, I was only about a quarter-day's hike from the village of my birth, but I didn't plan on going home. There was a war being fought against the Creed, and I had every intention of participating. The Creed have been a threat for far too long. If they ever got past the defenses provided by Lords of the frontier, the people I grew up with would be slaughtered.

The Creed needed to be dealt with.

The caravan I took from Lock arrived at the Nyagra merchant corral and quickly disbanded. Then the driver of my wagon agreed to drop me near the Truthsayer Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary was where volunteers went to offer their services to a psychic company. I'm certainly no warrior, but psychics are an important part of modern military operations. Our ability to communicate back and forth, spanning distance and reducing chaos, is vital to an army-sized force.

Actually, I'd already been thrown out of one army. I went to Nyagra with the intention of joining another one. Both forces were pursuing war against the Creed.

Just a few blocks from the Truthsayer sanctuary, we reached an ancient part of town where the streets are too narrow for a wagon. After a word of thanks to the teamster, I jumped off, shouldered my pack, and began walking towards the sanctuary.

In less than a block, I found myself in trouble.

"Help!" a woman screamed. There was a general hubbub.

"Oh, bother," I muttered to myself.

"Help!" the woman screeched again. This time there was no doubt that she was in distress.

A massive brute was manhandling a woman who was wearing the traditional hooded gown of a prostitute. He was some breed of Wilder - or perhaps Scatter - that was unfamiliar to me. His body was freakishly wide but seemed to be made up entirely of muscle. His skin was oddly mottled, covered with huge warts, and sprouting tufts of wiry hair from random locations. The only clothes he wore was a tattered and stained kirtle.

I'd seen better-looking trolls and ogres.

"Give me my money!" he grunted angrily as he tightened his grip on the woman's arm. He was not too far from breaking bones.

"Damn it, Reggie, I already paid you!" the prostitute yelped helplessly.

Some locals, men and women both, were standing at a safe distance as they tried to verbally calm Reggie down. He was ignoring them.

I could sense a few basic elements in what passed for Reggie's mind. He made a living by having the local prostitutes pay him protection money, and in return, he made sure that anyone who mistreated a prostitute would suffer consequences. He considered that to be a fair and reasonable part of the local economy - and perhaps he had a point. He was also beginning to wonder if the woman he was roughing up had actually already paid him and he'd simply forgotten. Reggie was apparently a man cursed by a certain dimness of thought.

A few workmen, idlers, and house-wives were on the street. Most were just watching, but a few were trying to convince Reggie to be reasonable. Nobody was crazy enough to intervene. More than a few women were busily sweeping up their curious children and shoving them inside nearby houses.

The affair was none of my business, and I could see why nobody was willing to get more involved. After all, the thug looked wildly dangerous and was obviously not fully in control. It would be best for everyone if the prostitute simply paid him off in whatever coin she had available and then went back to work.

Actually, I could sense the frightened prostitute coming to just that decision.

"Leave her alone!" some idiotic youngster - he was barely a teen - yelled suddenly. Then he followed up by breaking a jug across the thug's back. I suppose he was aiming for Reggie's head, but the boy simply wasn't tall enough for that.

The jug-attack accomplished nothing except to gain Reggie's attention.

Reggie was a lot faster than I would have guessed. He was certainly faster than the boy expected. With a quick sweep of his arm, the thug back-handed the boy into the nearest wall. The boy impacted with a sickening thud and slumped to the ground. He was definitely hurt, but his mind didn't show the strange off-signal firing of a dying brain.

"...kill you," the thug grunted as shoved the prostitute away, took a few ominous steps, and leaned over to grab the helpless boy.

His mind was all homicide.

I hastily pitched two coins onto the boy. They bounced off his chest and clattered to the stone street.

"That's the girl's payment," I said quickly.

The thug turned his head and stared at me. He was squinting awkwardly in a way that suggested he had rather poor vision.

I could feel even more rage building up inside the thug. No, it was not even slightly reasonable. It was just his normal reaction to situations that he didn't really understand.

Reggie took a dangerous-looking step towards me. I hastily backed up.

"Perhaps we could negotiate a larger payment?" I suggested nervously.

In his mind, I could see that Reggie didn't really understand the word 'negotiate'.

He took another step. His anger was shifting from 'just business' to 'volcanic'.

The prostitute was in the background, making frantic gestures with her hands indicating that I should run. But I could sense that she wasn't sure if I could actually outrun Reggie.

Yes, I'm a psychic, but my powers are limited, and I have little in the way of dependable offensive abilities. However, the situation was bad and getting worse. I had an option, but it was dangerous.

Not long ago, I was badly beaten by two Blood. They attacked me before I could do anything - there was no time to react before the first punch knocked me flat. But this time, I had a few seconds to spare. And I wasn't going to be beaten again.

I reached out with my mind. Inside Reggie's head, there was something that felt limited and unformed. I grabbed it and yanked as hard as I could. The pain that flared through my head was incredible.

Reggie froze in place. He was still staring at me, but then his eyes began to cross awkwardly.

Unable to focus, my head and heart pounding, I fell on my ass.

Reggie pissed and shat himself. Blood began flowing from his ears and eyes. More blood trickled down his chin. And then he vomited so massively that he whip-sawed forward and collapsed into his own spew.

He was dead before he hit the ground. I could feel the light go out of him.

Everyone was staring in horror.

"Stupid bastard..." I muttered. My head hurt like hell and I was actually getting dizzier.

I fell onto my back and everything went dark.

I woke up naked. And I was in a room with two prostitutes.

That wasn't as good as it sounds. For one thing, the two prostitutes were fully dressed, sitting at a table as they drank tea, and playing a game of cards.

The woman Reggie had been pushing around - she was dark and buxom and had fine facial features - suddenly looked at me.

"He's awake," she said.

The other woman glanced in my direction. She was older but definitely attractive in a mature manner.

"Ow," I said softly. My head really hurt.

The older woman got to her feet. "I did the best I could for him," she told the younger woman. "He should be fine, but you never know for sure with psychic-injuries. There could be damage to his brain or its blood vessels."

"Thank you, Lucy," the younger woman said gratefully.

The older woman sighed. "Okay, you'd better get back to work. I'll keep an eye on our hero."

"Ow," I repeated. I tried to sit up, but that didn't work.

The younger woman left the room. The older woman looked into my eyes. Then she checked my pulse. After that, she poured another cup of tea and stirred a powder into it. Holding my head, she helped me drink the tea.

The pain in my head receded as everything went hazy. I'd obviously been drugged.

"Thanks for helping," the older woman said as she brushed my hair from my eyes.

I went back to sleep.

When I woke up, I was still naked and a bare-breasted prostitute was washing me with warm water and a sponge.

As before, it wasn't quite as good as it sounded...

Actually, no. It was pretty good.

"Hello," I said nervously.

The woman bathing me was the older prostitute who I'd seen earlier. She smiled down at me.

"You fell into some of Reggie's vomit. Karen and I cleaned you up once before, but we didn't get it all."

"What's your name?" she then asked.

"Andrew," I said. "I'm from Axle village. Who are you?"

"My name's Lucy," she replied. Then she took a dry cloth, vigorously dried me off, and pulled a blanket over my body.

Lucy had long, unbound, blonde hair and a large pair of very dangly earrings. Her face was wide and pleasant, and her eyes were such a deep blue that they made you ignore the beginnings of crows-feet at their corners.

Oh, and she had really nice breasts. I tried not to stare.

"So did your friend really owe Reggie money?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. Karen paid him, but Reggie had a cokan habit that was getting worse and worse. He normally had problems remembering things and the cokan just made it worse. Oh, and he's dead, by the way."

I knew that. In fact, I'd felt Reggie die. The vanishing of the light from a man's mind is an awful thing to experience.

"The boy Reggie threw against the wall. How is he?"

"Hurt. Broken arm. He also had a dislocated shoulder, but a Militia-man popped it back into place. I put his arm in a splint and he's getting around with a walking staff. If you see him later on and he starts yelling at you, please don't kill him. He says he had everything under control until you got in the way."

"Next time, he can have the fight all to himself," I grumbled. "Did you say something about the Militia?"

Lucy shrugged. That made her breasts move in interesting ways. "They came and went. It turned out that Reggie didn't have many friends, and everyone told them that you were defending yourself. So you're in the clear, but you might want to leave town as soon as you can."

"Do you think you can get by on your own?" she then asked me.

"I think so," I said as I sat up. I was still shaky, but it was incredible how much better I felt.

Lucy stood up, used the cloth to dry her hands, arms, and upper body, and then - much to my regret - slipped her arms and shoulders back into her gown and buttoned it shut.

"You're a healer?" I asked, trying not to sound skeptical.

"Yeah, but I'm not a mage or a Wilder. I'm just schooled, but I made it to journeywoman."

I frowned. "You seemed to do a good job."

Lucy smiled lopsidedly. "The healer's guild threw me out when they found out my momma was a whore. There was a fancy speech about protecting the integrity and the moral standing of the guild, and then they yanked the healer's robe right off of me and threw me out onto the street. Momma was waiting outside with a gown."

Lucy paused thoughtfully. "It still can't figure if that last part was someone in the healer's guild being decent - or a complete asshole."

Then she picked up a small traveling bag. "Just so you know, I went through your gear and stole all of your money."

That made me smile. "A silver and four coppers? How will I ever recoup the loss?"

"A silver and two coppers," she corrected. "The other two coppers must have been what you tried to buy Joshua's life with. They vanished in all the excitement."

She walked over to the door. "The room's paid till tomorrow morning. Get some sleep."

"That sounds good."

Then she paused at the door. After a moment's thought, she pulled a pair of coppers out of her gown and tossed them in my direction. They landed on my bed.

"That's enough for breakfast," she told me grudgingly.

"I appreciate that."

The door closed behind her.

I lay back down and closed my eyes.

When I woke up, I was still naked. There was a different prostitute in my room.

Actually, by then I was sort of expecting it.

It was the young dark woman - the once Reggie had been man-handling. She was sitting on a rickety wooden chair with her bare feet up on the corner of my bed. She was reading a broadsheet of some kind.

"Hello," I said. "You're Karen, right?"

"Yep," Karen said. Then she put down the broadsheet and scooted closer to me.

"Lucy said I should look in on you," she told me. "She said we shouldn't leave jobs half-done. And since Lucy's the Guild boss of the local girls, she knows what's right."

Then she checked my eyes, pulse, heartbeat, and penis.

I looked down as she slowly stroked me. "What medical purpose does that serve?"

"Are you saying it's not making you feel better?" she asked.

"No. It's definitely doing that. Is this a reward for helping you?"

Lucy nodded her head. "And for killing Reggie. He was becoming such a pain in the ass. By the way, there were two coppers on the stand next to your bed. I took them."

I closed my eyes and let out an appreciative sigh. "That does feel good," I admitted. "But have you considered just giving me my money back?"

She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she told me.

"And if you like what I'm doing for you so far," Lucy added as she used her other hand to open her robe, "it's about to get a lot better."

When I woke up, a naked prostitute was in my room, but she was getting dressed.

Karen has a fantastic body. I believe 'voluptuous' is the correct word. I kept quiet and enjoyed the spectacle.

She looked at me as she finally finished buttoning up. My psychic senses were partially back. Karen was both amused and... well... you might say she had the sense of a job well done. That was important to her.

"You were a virgin, weren't you?" she asked. She was obviously amused.

I hesitated before answering. "If I was, I'm not now."

Karen chuckled, sat down, and pulled a pair of sturdy-looking half-boots over her bare feet.

"It was kinda cute," she told me, "and you're a fast learner."

"You know those two coppers you took?" I asked.

Karen frowned. "Are you still going on about that?"

I shook my head. "No, but here's a suggestion. Buy a pair of socks."

Karen shook her head. "That's a needless luxury," she opined.

Then she left.

I finally got dressed and hefted my pack. Then I left the inn. It turned out that the inn was located not too far from where I'd killed Reggie. That made sense since someone must have dragged me there.

Several people in the street obviously recognized me. They refused to meet my eyes and edged away.

For a long moment, I stood in the shadows of the narrow street, not really sure what to do next.

An older Wilder man, his hair a tangle of white-streaked orange, was carrying a basket filled with produce. He was obviously on his way back from the marketplace. He paused when he saw me.

Not looking directly at me, he quietly said, "Please go."

Then he handed me a fine-looking pair of apples.

"I wasn't going to stay," I reassured the older man. He looked relieved. Then I took a hungry bite from one of the apples and continued on my way.

I was finished with the first apple by the time I got to where I'd killed Reggie. I paused to toss the core into a trash-pile located in a nearby alley.

There were some stains on the cobbled street, but otherwise, there was nothing to see that heralded Reggie's death. An odd thought occurred to me - in how many places in the typical town has a man or woman breathed their last? How often do we blithely walk through a place of death, without even realizing it?

*You're being morbid,* a voice said in my head.

I glanced around. There was a Fire Priestess standing behind me. Her red and yellow robes emphasized her red-hair and green eyes.

Actually, she was quite beautiful. And her sudden appearance was startling.

I handed her my other apple. Giving a small gift to a priestess is a common custom that I choose to respect. My understanding of religion is expressed by rationality, not rudeness.

The Priestess smiled in appreciation as she took the apple from me.

*A man's death is something to be morbid about,* I responded. Mind-speak is actually my primary talent. It's what I would be offering the psychic company when I returned to the war.

*You really didn't have any choice,* she sent gently. *Reggie was going to kill you and the boy. And perhaps the girl.*

She said that as if she'd been present at Reggie's demise. Oddly, I didn't recall seeing her there. Of course, it was always possible that she'd taken the memory of what happened from the minds of others.

*I know,* I replied. *And if I hadn't ended him, someone else eventually would have. His kind of man exists by and for violence. That usually seems to kill them in the end.*

The Priestess nodded in agreement. *That's not a rare thing. After all, we live in a world of Wolverines.*

I didn't quite understand that last part. It was probably some obscure religious reference. Conversations with people of faith can be difficult that way.

*It's been a busy few days,* the Priestess continued. *You've killed your first man and had your first woman. Some would say you've finally become a man.*

I suppose certain thoughts were close to the surface of my mind.

I think I smiled bitterly. *Those seem to be poor criteria for manhood. I suppose sex will happen eventually and killing... well, it often proves little and can sometimes be all too easy.*

*I agree,* the Priestess told me. *Perhaps being willing to risk your life for your family and people is a better measure of who you are.*

It took me a moment to realize that she was talking about me.

"And that means I may have to kill?" I asked.

The Priestess silently nodded her head.

*Killing Reggie sickened me,* I confessed. *And I was rewarded for it. That... doesn't feel right.*

*You saw death before you met Reggie,* the Priestess reminded me. "A great deal of death."

*I was at two battles,* I told her. *We called them the battle of Bloody Creek and the battle of Crown Ridge. The Creed almost got us the first time, but Lady Priestess Olivia and Lord Crowe pulled us out of the fire just in time. Then we turned it around at Crown Ridge and slaughtered the Creed.*

The Priestess cocked her head at me. She seemed sad. *So, what did you think of your two battles?*

Yes, perhaps she was mocking me, but for some reason, I wasn't angry. There was a kind of dignified patience about her. She felt that her question had rationality and purpose.

So I tried to answer as honestly as possible. *I thought they were disgusting and repellent. The only real question is if they were necessary.*

She seemed to consider that a reasonable answer. *Did you fight?* she asked.

I laughed grimly, *I just passed messages between commanders - that was my job. At one point, when everything was going wrong at Bloody Creek, I picked up a dying woman's sword and hoped that the Creed wouldn't get anywhere near me. I was terrified.*

She leaned her head to one side as she continued to look at me. *And yet you want to serve again?*

*I don't want to, but I think it has to be done. But when this is over, and if I return home, war will have to come to me. I won't seek it out.*

Her sad smile was back. *Andrew, you won't return from your war. Such a thing changes people. Actually, the Andrew who went to war is already gone forever.*

Then there was a loud crash followed by a string of cursing. I damn near jumped out of my skin as my head jerked in the direction of that damned racket.

Just down the street, some glassware had fallen from a hand-cart. Two glassiers were yelling at each other.

A hiss of rage came out of my mouth. I could feel the beginning of a psychic assault flare up inside of me. It was the same kind of attack I'd used to kill Reggie. In psychic terms, the minds of the two glassiers seemed to pulse vulnerably.

I barely managed to stop myself in time. Taking a deep and shaky breath, I rubbed my face with my hands. I was ashamed by my lack of control. It could have been lethal.

Then I looked towards the Priestess...

She was gone.

The apple I'd given her was sitting on the lid of a rain barrel. I picked it up.

A gray-clad elder who was guarding the vestibule of the Truthsayer Sanctuary. I walked in and he nodded politely at me. Truthsayers are almost all women, so his role must have been administrative.

*You're Andrew. Right?* he mind-spoke to me.

*Yes, Elder,* I said after a moment's pause.

*Welcome to the Company,* he told me. Then he reached under his desk, pulled out the dark-red cloak of a battle-psychic, and handed it to me.

The surprised look on my face must have been a sight. The elder was trying not to laugh at me.

*A priestess named Emma contacted us,* the elder explained. *She and Lord James of Ashe told us you would show up and they vouched for you. So you're in the Company - on the condition that you keep shut about religious issues. You're in an army, not a philosophical debating society. We unleash the Blood on the Creed - not on ourselves.*

*Yes, Elder,* I responded with a polite bow.

*Good luck,* he told me.

Then he took a closer look at me. *You've killed someone, haven't you? Recently? I think I can see that on you.*

That made me pause. *Yes, Elder,* I eventually replied.

*Do I have to sneak you out of town?*

*The Militia investigated. It was declared to be self-defense.*

*Was it self-defense?* the elder demanded.

*Yes, but does that really matter?*

I don't know why I said that last part.

A grim smile crept onto the elder's craggy face. *In terms of where you're going, I suppose not.*

Then he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, towards a nearby archway. *Wait inside. You'll be sent out with a few others on the noon cargo-ship. You don't have any official rank, but you've seen and done things that the others haven't. So keep an eye on them.*

I nodded, *Yes, Elder.*

But instead of going deeper into the sanctuary, I paused.

The Elder's gray eyebrows rose. *Is there something else?*

I considered my words for a moment. *There's a Fire Priestess in town. She has red hair and green eyes and would definitely stick out in a crowd. Do you know her?*

The Elder shook his head. *Can't say I've seen anyone like that. Of course, there are a lot of people passing through town lately. And since the Temple gave their blessings to the war against the Creed, your Priestess could be on her way to help. Maybe you'll meet her when you get to the Fort.*

Then he gave me a look that actually held some real human concern. *Young man, here's a word of advice, don't develop a taste for Priestesses. They live in their own world. And the rest of us aren't a part of that world.*

I nodded in agreement. His words seemed wise.

***** Part Three *****

A fortification had been established on the shore of the Ont, deep in Creed territory. I wasn't sure why that had been done, but the fighting around the fort had been going on long enough that both sides had seen fit to dig trenches. The Creed were distracted by the fighting down south, but bands and clans of them were still appearing up north around the fort. For our part, ship-loads of reinforcements kept arriving at the fortification.

As near as I could tell, we were winning. However, it was a slow and savage process.

My bodyguard was a Blood named Thea, but since she was unsworn she wasn't actually a Samurai. She has frizzy brown hair that she keeps cut short, but her skin was well-tanned. During peacetime, Thea was a Yojimbo with the Guardian's Guild. Her service in Lady Bast's army simply had her doing more of the same, and she was quite good at it.

At the moment, Thea was bandaging my arm. During a trench-raid, a Creed got way too close to me. His fingertip claws raked my forearm before we could kill him.

"You Wilder are so damn fragile," she grumbled at me. Then she helped me to my feet.

The Senior Samurai took a moment from shouting orders and looked at us. "How's he doing, Thea?" he asked.

Generally, the Senior Samurai only speaks to me when absolutely necessary. Thea spends a lot of time talking for me.

"He'll live," Thea said. "But it might be a good idea to have a healer do something for his arm. Otherwise, it might do that weird thing where it gets rotten."

"It's called an infection," I informed her. I was gritting my teeth and applying pressure to my arm.

"Whatever," Thea said dismissively.

"Take him to the Wilder aid post," the Senior Samurai ordered, "but get him back here before sundown. I have to report."

"Yes, Senior Samurai," Thea replied. Then she put her shoulder under mine and began walking me to the rear.

A tired-looking Wilder healer winced after unwrapping the bandage on my arm and examining the claw marks.

"Okay, I'd say one of them got pretty close to you," the healer told me. There was a pipe filled with a mild stimulant dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"If you would just get out of the damn way!" Thea fumed at me.

"Last I heard, I had someone with me whose only job was to keep the Creed away from me!" I shot back.

"Oh, screw you, Andrew!" Thea snarled. "The only reason you're alive is because I got between you and that Creed just in time!"

"Listen, you skinny little thug, I was already yanking that Creed's soul out of his ears when you finally put your claws into him!"

"Both of you shut the hell up," the healer said conversationally. He poured warm water over my arm, wiped my injuries down with a yellowish powder, and then concentrated. The bleeding stopped and he began a closer examination.

"You'll live," he told me sardonically. Then he performed a more complex healing. The claw marks closed up.

I was dizzy by the end of it all.

"Get some food in him," the healer said to Thea. "And a couple hours of sleep would be good."

"Yessir," Thea replied instantly. Notice how healing Wilders are treated with actual respect?

Thea yanked me off the healer's table and hauled me out of the dugout. Out in the trench complex, she led me in several different directions. Then we found ourselves behind an abandoned pile of lumber.

Turning to face me, Thea gave me a scared look. Then she shoved me against a wall of logs and our lips collided.

The kiss lasted for a while, but when we were was done, Thea was leaning against me, her forehead propped against my chin.

"Stop fighting them, Andy," she whispered to me. "When one of those Creed assholes shows up, get the hell out of the way - just run! - and let me do my job."

I wiggled my hands up Thea's hauberk and the cotton padding underneath. Then I cupped her breasts. I was shaking in both fear and from the reaction to my injury and healing. I needed a meal and rest, but at that moment what I really wanted was to be inside Thea.

That damned Creed had been so close. When his eyeballs exploded - an outward reflection of what I did to his brain - they splattered across Thea and I.

Thea pushed my cloak over my waist. Then she began unbuckling my trousers as I pulled off her helm and dropped it. There was mud and blood smeared across her pretty face. I used a thumbnail to scrape a fragment of Creed eyeball from her cheek.

Suddenly, I remembered what the Priestess had told me. That I wouldn't return from the war, because the war would change me. She was right, of course. And I wondered what I would think of myself when all this was done.

Assuming, of course, that I lived.

Once her trousers were down, I turned Thea around and pushed her face-first against the wall - she likes to be roughly handled. Then I took her. At the same time, I entered her body, I also entered her mind. Within seconds, she was biting at the raw lumber, trying not to scream.

I finished quickly - fear does that to me - but I made sure to give Thea's mind the final twist that drove her to orgasm.

For a long moment, we stood together, shuddering in reaction. Thea reached a hand over my shoulder and touched my cheek. I nuzzled her hair. It was a long and oddly peaceful moment.

Then I stepped back.

"You bastard," Thea told me with a shake of her head. She was still braced against the wall with her forearms. She was breathing hard and shaking slightly. "You're a cheat and a fake. You have a tiny dick and it's only your Wilder trickery that makes me cum so damn hard."

"I hate having sex with you," I grumbled at her. "Your pussy is just gapingly huge. Seriously, you cheap Blood trollop, how many men have you had!?"

Thea shook her head, reached down, and pulled up her pants. "Hundreds. And every one of them was better than you. Next time, let's try it without the mind-stuff. No, we better not. I'll probably laugh myself to death."

Thea's helmet was on the trench floor and her back was still to me. I bit her on the back of her neck so hard that it drew blood. That's a common way Blood males dominate Blood females. Thea would never admit it, but she was thrilled by the sheer sexual humiliation of having a Wilder do that to her.

I spat out a mouthful of Thea's blood as the bite mark on the back of her neck began to close.

"As soon as I'm not responsible for keeping you alive, I'm going to kill you," she promised huskily.

"Well then I won't have to live with the memory of sexing your scrawny body," I snarled back.

Then we fell silent. Thea made sure her clothes and armor were in place and then turned to face me.

*We have to stop,* I suddenly told her mind-to-mind.

Thea wiped some sweat from her brow - which just smeared blood and filth across her face. *Why?* she asked.

*This is a really bad relationship. It's built on sheer wrongness.*

Thea smiled. Blood have a point-of-view about personal relationships that's all but insane. They really aren't human.

*Yeah, isn't it great!" she told me cheerfully. Then she leaned forward and kissed me.

Thea's a fantastic kisser. Like everything else she does, she puts everything she has into it.

Of course, it was no secret to the Blood in our unit that Thea and I were intimate. They could obviously smell it on us. Oddly enough, nobody seemed to care. Female Yojimbo are noted for often having sex with their principles - it's one way to make sure that the person they were protecting isn't ever isolated from their protector. As far as everyone was concerned, our situation was entirely predictable and Thea was exhibiting good professionalism.

I can still remember the time I found Thea telling a small pack of female Blood samurai and ronin about my sexual prowess.

"Yeah, he really can't do much with his cock, but those Wilder mind-tricks get you off really hard," she told them. They all seemed fascinated.

"Do you mind if I give him a try?" someone asked.

Thea shook her head. "Don't. You might hurt him. And I'll have to kill you for that."

That was, of course, Thea staking her claim on me. Since she's shockingly dangerous, everyone respected it.

"Is he okay?" the Senior Samurai asked Thea as he peered intently at me.

Of course, asking me was apparently not an option.

"He cried like a baby the entire time he was with the healer," Thea told the Senior Samurai. "I had to screw him to get him to calm down."

"Who screwed who?" I asked her acidly. Thea just chuckled.

The Senior Samurai ignored the byplay. "Okay, here's the report for Lady Bast," he told me.

Then he gave me his account concerning the recent raid. There were some canny observations about the numbers, equipment, and ages of our attackers, and how that might relate to larger Creed dispositions. Really, the man constantly surprised me.

I repeated the report back to the Senior Samurai. He nodded once I was done, and I sent his report to a psychic who was attached to Lady Bast. The psychic repeated the report back to me and we both agreed it was accurate.

When I was done, the Senior Samurai gave me a critical look. "Thea, he looks worn out. Make sure he gets some rest."

Then the Senior Samurai turned his attention back to me. "Okay, Wilder, I saw what happened and this is becoming a problem. You've demonstrated that you can kill Creed and I understand you're doing that just to say 'fuck you' to us Blood. Message received. But from now on, when a Creed gets close to you, you get out of the way and let Thea do her job. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Senior Samurai," I said formally. I didn't bother to look at Thea because I didn't want to see the look of sheer triumph that was certainly on her face.

"I'm fine," I told Thea.

She'd brought me a pan of beans, a chunk of bread, and a small jug of clean water. I'd put it all down in very little time. Then she insisted on checking my wound. There was, of course, no problem since it was fully healed. The healer obviously knew his job.

"Get some sleep," she told me.

"I'm not tired."

"You're male and you just had sex."

I sighed. "It doesn't always work that way."

Thea gave me a disgusted look, "It's always worked that way before. I cum. You cum. You start snoring. Frankly, I'm amazed I didn't have to carry you back from the healer."

That was uncomfortably accurate, but I've never been sure why Thea was so testy about it. However, there was no point in arguing. I pulled my cloak off, improvised a pillow with it, and leaned back. We were in shadow, so the sun - which was near the horizon - wasn't shining on my face.

Thea scooted close to me and put her arms around me. Within seconds she was dozing.

I still couldn't fall asleep.

*Hello, Andrew,* someone said into my mind.

I looked up in surprise and then quickly sat up. Oddly, Thea didn't awaken. Not even when I pulled loose from her arms.

*Greetings, Honored Lady,* I responded politely.

It was the priestess from Nyagra. The one with red hair and green eyes. She was sitting just a few feet from me.

Thea was still asleep and that was bothering me. She should have sensed the Priestess' approach. She should have awoken when I stirred.

Concerned, I reached for Thea's shoulder.

*Let her be,* the Priestess said mildly.

I hesitated. Then I let my hand drop.

*Welcome to our humble abode,* I said. Actually, we were in a small dugout, fronted with a canvas tarp, that was built into the wall of a side-trench.

The Priestess smiled - a brilliant sight. *I see you're still alive,* she observed.

For a moment, my forearm throbbed. *There have been some questionable moments,* I replied as I flexed my hand.

*You need to stay out of Thea's way when she's trying to protect you,* the Priestess suggested.

I sighed. *Yes, Lady Priestess. Of late, I've been hearing that a lot.*

She nodded. *Your powers have developed considerably.*

I shrugged. "I'm told that experience - violent and terrifying experience - will do that."

"That's true. So, how many Creed have you killed?"

The count I performed in my head was desultory. Honestly, I didn't much care.

"Perhaps five or six," I said.

*Is that enough?* she asked curiously.

That was an interesting question. *You'd have to define 'enough'," I told her. "And killing a few Creed is secondary to the larger goal of permanently driving them out of the region.*

The smile on the Priestess' face became harder. *While we're defining things, why don't you tell me what you mean when you say 'driving them out'?*

I looked her dead in the eyes. *Very well, let's define it as 'exterminate'.*

She gave me a sad look. *You've become a harder man, Andrew.*

For some reason, I put a hand on Thea's shoulder and gently squeezed. She still didn't stir.

*Perhaps,* I replied.

Something dark flicked across the Priestess' face. *Damn it, Victor,* she whispered distantly, apparently to herself. *Did you know how your hate would go on and on? Did you even suspect? Or was that the point all along?*

There was something about her words that made me I feel cold but didn't say anything.

Then the Priestess looked back at me. *Do you know who I am?*

I hesitated before responding. *I have suspicions. I don't consider them settled.*

She picked up a loose stone and rolled it around in her hands, looking at it. *What do you suspect, Andrew?*

*You're not real. Not in a physical sense. For example, there are no footprints behind you and you aren't casting a shadow.*

She nodded, *As analytical as I would expect. What else?*

*I might be insane or hallucinatory. Perhaps my beating at the hands of those two Blood did damage to my brain that can't be healed. Perhaps I did permanent psychic injury to myself when I killed Reggie. Or maybe a bloody war like this is just too much for me.*

The Priestess nodded, but she clearly knew that I had more to say.

*It's also possible that a psychic trick is being played upon me,* I added. *It's arrogant to think that I've attracted the attention of the Priestesses of Lady Grey, and they're punishing me for my doubts, but perhaps that's actually what's happening.*

*Interesting. Keep going.*

I took a deep breath. *It could be that I've somehow made contact with the psychic imprint left behind by that most honored lady of legend, the woman whose memory is now known as the Lady of Fire. That makes sense if you consider how my powers have expanded lately.*

*Anything else?*

With a sigh, I made the admission that she was looking for. *It may be that my logical and rational approach to the subject of divinity is wrong and I'm actually communicating with a powerful spirit some would describe as a goddess.*

That made her smile. *You're not insane,* she told me. Then she paused, "Well... no more than anyone would be in this situation.*

*Yes, ma'am,* I said humbly. No matter what, I had to agree with her last words.

She nodded at Thea.

*What about you two?* she asked.

I hesitated. *I'm not sure what you mean.*

*You love her. She loves you. As a telepath, you know that's true.*

I rubbed my temples. *It isn't as simple as that.*

She shook her head. *Since you're so unsure about my divinity, it won't bother you to hear a prediction, will it? After all, it probably means nothing.*

*Go ahead,* I said warily.

*After the war, you'll marry Thea and take her home. Some people in your village will be unhappy about that, but it will work out. You and she will have children who will grow up as over-intellectual Blood with some interesting psychic abilities. Thea will outlive you, of course. After you're gone, she'll eventually take up with other men, but when her spirit finally passes on to join with Logan, her last thoughts will be of you.*

I stared at her. *Is that an actual prophecy? Or a guess?*

She actually grinned at me. It was surprisingly girlish. *Who knows?* she said.

After that, she looked up thoughtfully. *There's trouble coming. You better get ready.*

Then she was gone. The stone she'd been holding fell to the ground, clattering off a stray chunk of broken bedrock.

The alarm bar began ringing. It was another Creed raid.

Thea blinked awake, instantly realized what was wrong, and scurried between me and the opening to our dugout.

The first Creed crashed into Thea, but she was ready for him. She put her left-hand claws through his throat, pinning him to the trench wall. He was clawing at her armor and choking as she punched her right-hand claws into his chest. Twisting her wrist, she cored out his heart. The resulting gout of blood was massive.

There was another Creed behind the first. I melted his brains and that was enough to make him stop being a bother.

"Let's get married," I asked Thea.

Then a third Creed appeared. I disorientated him by scrambling his senses, and Thea savagely dispatched him. Blood from his split-open torso sprayed over us.

"What did you say?!" Thea asked over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving, peering at me through a red mask of Creed blood.

"Let's get married," I repeated calmly.

"YOU'RE ASKING ME HERE?! NOW?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"I'll get you a ring."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT A RING! THAT'S FOR WILDER AND FOLK! I'M BLOOD!"

Then she paused. "Wait, what kind of ring?"

"A lovely and valuable ring, for a most beautiful and priceless woman. Then I'll find a romantic spot to get down one knee, offer you the ring, and properly ask for your hand."

Thea looked baffled. "My hand? What's that mean? I need my hand! I need both of them!"

I looked beyond Thea. "On your left," I told her mildly.

She turned and together we killed yet another Creed. I could tell she was embarrassed that she'd needed a warning from me.

"STOP DISTRACTING ME, ANDY! ARE YOU CRAZY!?"

"Let's find out together," I told her.

Thea was watching the approach into our position, but over her shoulder, I could see the smile that she was trying to hide.

"Yes," she said. I didn't bother to ask what she was agreeing to.

I knew.

Somewhere in my head, I could have sworn that I heard a feminine chuckle.

Just my imagination, I resolutely told myself.