THE QUESTERS, PART III

The temple stank of violent death. Most of the dead - both the temple's defenders and the majority of the Hand - gave off the all too common stench of blood, torn flesh, and bodily wastes. But a few of the Hand were different. They reeked of something like rotten blood mixed with acid.

They were undead Hand. Fast, strong, and miserably difficult to kill. During the battle, it took a half-dozen guardsmen to drag down the last one - after it had been repeatedly slashed open by Rose's blades.

Of course, nobody could sleep. For the rest of the night, I sat against the temple's back wall, with Paul's head resting in my lap. The vision-quester's body cooled and eventually went cold as I ran my fingers through his hair. Overhead, the stars slowly whirled in their great circle.

An hour or so before dawn, a guardsman and a guardswoman politely took Paul away from me. Then Faye, Rose, and I bathed and washed the blood of our enemies and our friends from our bodies.

Eventually, we tended to the dead.

The Temple guardsmen who were killed in the fight were buried just after dawn - at the moment when the Lady of Fire blesses the new day. As the graves were filled, Kathryn offered prayers in the name of the Lady of Blades.

Kathryn looked depthlessly empty as she sent yet more of her people to the beyond. Demetrios stood next to her, stoic and silent.

Paul wasn't the only Blood who had been killed the night before. There were some dead among the Temple guards who were also children of the Old One. The Blood have their own traditions of how they deal with death, and a young married couple from the village performed the necessary ritual. After they were finished, I quietly thanked them as they dressed. They were surprised and tongue-tied, and all they could manage were a few stumbled words as they gave me cross-armed bows. I carefully returned the gesture.

Then I gazed out at the assembled crowd. There was an expectant hush.

"The Old One is gone, but his spirit remains..." I called, my voice pitched to ring out over the calling waterbirds and the rush of the river.

"We remember the Old One," came the low rolling rumble of response from so many throats. It was not just the Blood who spoke, since many revere the memory of the Old One. Even Rose, a woman faithful to the six-pointed star, repeated the proper refrain.

Faye, as always, remained distant and silent.

"...and he is with us," I finished.

There was a firm growl of assent.

As always, after I've finished those ancient words, there was the hot sting of tears in my eyes.

"Oh, Rahne," Rose said with a sad smile. Then she kissed me on the forehead.

After the funeral, a contingent of guards and temple-servants dragged the bodies of the ninja up to the top of a distant hill. Then they built a pyre and burned the bodies. That was the only way to make sure they would never rise again.

I spent the rest of the day considering what to do next. Eventually, I made the only decision I could.

The fishing boats began returning just before sundown. As the sun approached the horizon, the dock filled with boats, fishermen, and purchasers from Nyack. Catches were unloaded, prices haggled over, and minor repairs conducted.

Further down the shore, the smoldering remains of the Hand's pyre cast dark smoke into the sky. A dozen temple guards and servants still tended the dying blaze.

Faye rolled a large and empty barrel out beyond the grounds of the temple and through the village. Then, at the edge of the dock, she pushed it upright.

"This is not a good idea," she told me for perhaps the fifth time.

Rose nodded grimly as she examined the crowd of people on the dock. Her backpack blades were now on her belt, but she was using her power to test their draws.

"There's no choice," I told them. "I have to tell them what happened."

Then I climbed up on the barrel and looked out over a multitude of curious eyes.

I spoke to the crowd. Perhaps they expected me to talk about the battle with the Hand, but instead, I told them about Paul and his last words.

When I finished, there was a ripple of unease among my listeners. The Creed are the enemy of all who live. To the Blood, their extermination is a religious duty as well as a matter of simple survival. Even those who follow a different path than that of the Old One still hate the Creed - if for no other reason than they want to live.

For all too many, what I told them was more than they could accept. The Creed had to die. And the half-Creed had to die with them. The bare tolerance that some Folk and Wilder show to the half-Creed is viewed by many with suspicion and contempt.

"You're asking us to ignore the taint of the Creed?" a man's voice shouted in outraged disbelief.

Other voices raised their own objections.

"The man was dying!" another voice yelled. "Dying men can say anything!"

"He didn't say what he was wrong about!" someone with a more analytical turn of mind called out.

I wasn't talking about something abstract. Over forty years ago, the people along that part of the east-coast had fought a huge outbreak of Creed piracy. Disunity and confusion allowed the Creed pirate bands to grow to deadly size. Ships were taken and their crews murdered. Coastal towns and villages were looted and burned. Murder, rape, and torture were commonplace.

James, the adopted father of Rose and I, called the Blood to war. The other peoples followed. My father created an alliance, and then he sailed with the ships of that alliance.

At Cape Fear, the two fleets met and the death toll was huge. The Creed fleet was destroyed, but it was a rare Blood, Wilder, or Folk family that didn't see sons and daughters sent to their ancestors. And the sea gave back so few of the dead.

All of that was within the lifetime of many of those who were hearing me. Blood, Wilder, and Folk don't celebrate the anniversary of the battle of Cape Fear. Instead, it's a day of mourning. On the day of the battle, women stand at the shore and call out the names of those who never returned.

"I'm asking you to hear a questor's last words," I replied flatly. "Respect them. Consider them. Discuss them with others. In the temple, pray to the Goddesses for insight. Before the seven stones, ask the Old One for wisdom. We need to find the truth."

There was still a buzz of anger among those who'd heard me. I can't blame them.

Miserably sure that I'd failed to do anything more than frustrate and anger the villagers, I jumped down from the barrel. Rose put a hand on my shoulder, mostly so she could keep track of me while she kept a worried eye on the crowd. Faye put herself between me and them.

A tough-looking young Blood female stalked out of the crowd. Her hand-claws were out.

"You crazy, lying, bitch..." she began as she stared at me. There was death in her eyes. I readied my claws.

Faye got in our way. The crowd had gone silent and was watching.

The young Blood snarled wordlessly at Faye.

Faye changed form. She had no choice.

There was a moment of silence. Then the snikting sound of dozens of opening Blood claws. Blood and Green have never got along.

"Stop it!" I yelled as I moved forward. Rose was with me. I couldn't let Faye and the Blood fight. A Green woman and a pack of Blood fighting over a Seeker who had said something conciliatory about the Creed? The description alone was disastrous. Once word got out, it might even trigger anti-Green riots and hunts. Greens are powerful, but so are we Blood, and there are many more of us.

The old fisherman - the one who'd spoken to us when we landed on the dock - stepped out of the crowd, his hands held high to calm his people. Then, from behind, he firmly grabbed the female who was threatening Faye. He grappled her wrists and then trapped her lower legs in a sturdy cross-ankle lock.

"Stop," he told the female. His tone brooked no disobedience.

She froze, tangled up by the older man, yet still glaring furiously at Faye and at me.

"Stop," the old fisherman repeated. "We'll talk about this later."

It took a long moment for the female to dismount from the fury she was riding. But eventually, she nodded her head and closed her claws.

"Yes, papa," she told her father. He let her go. She drifted back into the crowd.

The old fisherman glanced at me, and then at Faye. He was standing alone in the open. On one side was the crowd. On the other was Faye, Rose, and I.

Then the fisherman eyed Faye, who was big, green, and obviously ready for trouble.

"When I was younger, I had a taste for green women," he said conversationally. "So strong and sturdy, yet flexible and willing. Dumber than rocks, but eager to please. So how about it, little darling?"

There was a stunned silence. The Blood are far more open about such things than the other peoples, yet that was still an astonishingly... open... thing to say. And also utterly unexpected given the historical ill-will between the Blood and the Green. Faye was as surprised as anyone else. I half expected her to knock the fisherman right into the river.

Instead, after a long pause, Faye just shook her head. "Sorry. I'm a married lady. Mind you, if I wasn't... well, I've always thought sailors were a sexy bunch."

"Damn right," someone muttered from the crowd. There was a ripple of laughter.

The fisherman crossed his arms over his chest. "Pity we didn't meet when I was younger."

Faye raised a dark-green eyebrow. "When was that? Before or after the Burning?"

More laughter. By now, most of the watchers had retracted their claws.

"My, you have a fast mouth," the fisherman shot back. "Probably comes from all the time you've spent in alleyways. On your knees."

There was a mixture of gasps and yet more laughter.

Faye gave the fisherman a hard look. "I thought I recognized you. As I recall, we had to get into better light so I could actually find your prick."

"That's not true!" a woman's voice yelped from the crowd. I assumed it was one of the fisherman's wives being appropriately loyal.

"Contest!" someone suddenly yelled. There were scattered cheers.

The crowd was amused. And eagerly waiting for more. Insult contests are an established tradition in Jerse.

"Ale!" someone else yelled. There were more cheers. People were beginning to sit down. Jars of ale were being grabbed from the nearest huts. A barrel was rolled out from the small tavern. Except for two or three particularly stubborn Blood, the claws had been withdrawn.

"It's on, bitch," the older fisherman said coldly as he sat down cross-legged facing Faye. Someone handed him a brimming cup of ale.

"Bring it, old man," Faye shot back the appropriate response.

They say those ritual challenges have been around forever.

A little girl shyly handed Faye a cup of ale.

"Thank you, sweetie," Faye said as she smiled at the girl and patted her head. Then she drained the cup.

"Another, please," Faye said to the girl. "And make sure to check on the old man's cup in an hour or so. He might be done by then."

"Ooooh," someone whispered softly.

The old man gave Faye a hard look. Then he up-ended his cup into his mouth.

"So," he said after he swallowed. "I'm curious, how do you walk with those huge udders? Shouldn't you fall on your face?"

There were cheers and applause. It was, indeed, on.

Faye considered that. Then she shifted the shoulders of her dress away and the upper part of her dress fell into her lap.

There were gasps. "Holy shit," someone said reverently. There was a burst of enthusiastic applause that was mostly from the men in the crowd, but more than a few women joined in.

"I'm not talking to anyone who's man enough to climb these mountains," Faye responded wickedly.

The young woman who, just a minute or two ago, had been intent on killing me walked over to Rose and I. She handed each of us a cup of ale.

It was an apology. And a graceful one.

"Thank you," I said. Then I patted the ground between Rose and me.

"Sit with us," I said.

She scooted between us.

The party became extreme. Everyone was drunk, some were out cold. Couples and threesomes were drifting away. Most found private places for what came next, but some didn't bother with privacy. A very athletic foursome were making a docked fishing boat rock wildly.

Rose and the girl who had wanted to kill me were wrapped up in each other. Their faces were pressed together as their hands roamed all over each other. The Blood female's tunic was askew. Rose's hauberk was on the ground behind her, her boots were off, and her trousers unbuckled.

Priestess Kathryn sat next to me. As a matter of good policy, she'd avoided both the controversy and the party that had broken out on her doorstep.

"Hello," she said. She was still fully armed and armored - which was only right - but she was smiling. That was a side of her I liked seeing. Kathryn normally kept it hidden away.

"I owe you a debt for helping against the Hand," she said to me. "Thank you. I would have lost my people without you. I would have lost my temple."

I noticed that she mentioned her people before she mentioned her temple. Yes, I liked that side of Kathryn.

"If there's anything I can do for you..." Kathryn began.

Rose stuck her stocking feet into Kathryn's lap. Rose's heavy trews were now down around her knees.

"Take thesh off," Rose slurred as she wiggled her toes impudently. "Pleash."

It was everything that our young high priestess of a half-forgotten temple could do to not laugh. Then she braced a foot against Rose's hip and yanked her pants the rest of the way off.

"Thankssh," Rose said. Then she went back to carefully licking spilled ale off of the Blood female's bare stomach.

Since that's who she is, Kathryn carefully folded the trousers and put them on the ground right behind Rose.

"As I was saying," Kathryn said. "If there's anything I can do for you. Please just ask."

I was drunk and scared of the future. So I shot my mouth off.

"When you have a chance, talk to your Guard Captain," I suggested.

Kathryn seemed puzzled. That was just common sense. Of course she'd do that.

"Don't wear your armor," I continued. "Wear one of those robes priestesses usually wear - you can put the armor back on later. Pour him a cup of good wine. Lean forward when he offers his advice and concentrate on every word he says. Meet his eyes as he speaks. Touch his hand when he's done and thank him for his help and courage. Then see what happens after that."

By then Kathryn was actually blushing. It was adorable.

"I can't do that," she told me primly.

"You said 'anything'," I reminded her. "Is the word of sword-priestess worth so little?"

Kathryn hesitated. Then a subdued smile appeared on her face. "Very well," she said to me.

My cup was full - I'd been tapering off. I drank half of it. Then I handed it to Kathryn. She finished the rest.

"Everyone kept dying," she suddenly told me. Her eyes were distant as she stared out at the river.

I nodded my head. This was a talk that needed to happen. And there was nobody else Kathryn could really have it with.

"The real high priestess - her name was Morgana - was killed in the first Hand attack. Then the chamber priestess - her name was Asiho. After that was Bella and then Cinder. I was the oldest acolyte. I became a priestess when Cinder handed me her old brass pendant as she lay dying."

"And then there's our acolytes and guardsmen. They've fought so hard, and so many are gone now."

Kathryn looked down. "What kind of servant of the Deadly Lady am I when I can't even remember all their names?"

"As near as I can tell, a brave and serious one," I told her.

"Not so brave that I wasn't terrified of losing..."

She didn't - couldn't - finish. After that, Kathryn shook her head and got to her feet.

"Any other suggestions for my meeting with Demetrios?" she asked almost formally.

I chuckled. "You know him better than I do. But he strikes me as the kind of man who loves a woman, not an image. Maybe you should hold off on the perfume and makeup?"

She cracked a smile. "That's easy, I don't even own any of the stuff."

The Blood female had Rose pinned flat on the ground. They were still sort of dressed, but not really. Rose had her long legs wrapped around the Blood female's hips. There was a lot of enthusiastic grinding.

Breaking her kiss, Rose looked up at Kathryn. "Check my pack. I have a small kit of makeup and perfume. Oh, and don't listen to my sister. Go full warpaint on that poor, defenseless bastard and make him yours."

Kathryn shook her head and walked away.

"Show him no mercy!" Rose yelled after Kathryn.

"Mark him with your scent!" the Blood female - what the hell was her name? - whooped.

"Steady, girls," I told them with a sigh.

I staggered to my feet and walked over to Faye and the old fisherman.

Actually, it was now Faye, the older fisherman, and an older Blood matron who was probably the fisherman's senior wife.

Since the insult contest had been combined with a drinking contest, they were even further gone than most. Faye was flat on her back - still topless. The old fisherman was resting his head on one of her thighs. His wife was using Faye's breasts for pillows. The wife had a hand tucked in her husband's shirt and was stroking his grizzled chest hair. Faye had a hand affectionately tangled in the wife's hair. All three of them had their eyes closed. They were surrounded by both broken and intact cups and jars.

"...and you're fat," the fisherman mumbled. He'd obviously drunk himself to the edge of consciousness.

"Smelly," Faye countered blearily. "Smelly, smelly. Take a bath, you smelly person."

I shook my head and let out a sigh. "Okay, the quality of insults has definitely fallen. I'm forced to call off the contest. You both won. And you really should stop drinking."

Actually, they both looked relieved. With a sweep of her arm, Faye cleared a spot next to her. Then she reached up, grabbed my hand, and dragged me down next to her. I cuddled against her, my head on her shoulder.

"You're a good pillow," I told her affectionately.

The Blood matron, her head still on Faye's breast, murmured an agreement.

Faye just smiled.

A few peaceful moments passed.

"I was with your father at Cape Fear," the old fisherman said suddenly. His words were so out of place, and there was something about them that seemed like a confession.

However, I wasn't surprised that he had been at Cape Fear. Most of the men and women of his age had fought the Creed pirates. And many of them had ended up at that war's last battle.

"It was night," he continued almost lazily, but with no little tension in his words. "No moon. The fleets found each other by scent, but soon enough you could see miles in any direction. I could even see the Cape. It was the fires. So many ships were ablaze. Catapults and war-engines. Wilders and mages and priestesses. Fire everywhere and the sea glistening orange and yellow."

He paused. And then his voice became harder.

"We fought in the flames. We died in the flames. It went on and on. Catapults launching great stones. Volleys of arrows. Mages and their hellfire. Redeye signals and attacks. Lightning breaking against the Creed ships. Spells, Wilder energies, and the fury of the blessed Lady Ororo. They made the sea burn."

"I saw your papa. He was on the 'Shannon'. Captain Job was commanding, but I could see the crew looking to your father. I was on the 'Old Gray', under Captain Watanabe. We rammed the Creed flagship. The 'Old Gray' was burning, but Watanabe still managed to ram. Damn, could that man steer a ship! Mind you, it wasn't perfect, we hit near the enemy prow, while the 'Shannon' followed up and struck dead amidships. All of our damned masts when down and there was a tangle of rigging and sails. Your father led the crew of the 'Shannon' on the boarding action. The 'Old Gray' had lost most of our crew already, but we went over anyway. I put my boots on the Creed ship first. Wife... I want that said at my graveside. I was first on the Creed flagship."

"Yes, dear," the fisherman's wife said softly.

"We fought the way Blood fight Creed," the fisherman continued tensely. "It was madness. I've never hated anybody or anything like that."

"The fire spread from the 'Old Gray' to the Creed flagship. Then to the 'Shannon'. The 'Old Gray' was taking water in the prow and she eventually tore away from Creed ship. She started sinking. There were sharks all around us. I saw Blood and Creed in the water, fighting the sharks and fighting each other while burning timbers floated all around them."

"There were flocks of Angels overhead and the firelight caught their wings. Sometimes, so many of the Angels clustered together that they blocked out the stars. They called out warnings and helped any of our ships that were in trouble. Their arrows rained down. But every now and then, one of them would cartwheel from the sky. I saw one of those poor bastards crash right into the 'Massachets'... and by then the 'Massachets' was abandoned and ablaze from one end to the other. His feathers began burning just before he hit."

"Nothing made sense except the killing. So we kept killing."

"The battle finally went our way. The Creed were brave in their mad, animal, way, but we slew them all, paying for every bit of that with our own lives. Then we fought the fires and got the worst of them under control. After that, I stumbled around, trying to find friends and family. But there was nobody to find. My father. My brother. Two of my sisters. So many of those I grew up with. They were all gone. Some were dead, others were just missing. I screamed out at the sea, hoping that some of the missing were on floating wreckage, but that did no good. Others were doing the same. We checked the bodies over and over again, hoping to find some who were knocked out instead of dead. We'd all lost someone."

"And then it got worse. We changed. We changed into something else."

"There were half-Creed slaves. They were oarsmen. And we began killing them too. We killed them slow."

Then the old fisherman fell silent. It was at least a hundred heartbeats until he spoke again.

"I told you we were mad," he said. "That's not just a word. The Folk and Wilder with us were terrified. They huddled together, weapons and spells ready. Waiting for us to turn on them. The judgment in their eyes was terrible, but they had every right to it."

"Your father stormed from one ship to another. Slapping us back into sanity and telling us to remember that we were Blood, not Creed. I saw the most dangerous Blood I knew frozen in utter shame. The looks on their faces..."

"One of the first your father stopped was me. Then I joined him. So did others. We did what we could."

"But your father once called me a Creed. And he was right to say that to me. Old One forgive me. Goddesses forgive me. He was right."

The old fisherman stopped. Looking at his profile, I could see that he was staring up at the sky. His wife was whispering quiet words to her husband. What she said to him was private and I will not remember it.

After a while, the old fisherman spoke again. "If you see your daddy again," he told me, "tell him that while I did die at Cape Fear, I've done my best to come back as someone else."

Even for a Blood, I'm a very fast healer, so I didn't have a hangover.

"Damn you," Faye said for the tenth time. She was lying in the shade, with a wet cloth over her eyes. The way I was walking around in no obvious pain was pissing her off.

"Have you seen Rose?" I asked.

"The last I saw, her new girlfriend was holding Rose's head as she puked."

"That's love," I observed with an approving nod.

"If you say so. Is that Seeker wisdom?"

"It's me being a wiseass."

"Aren't Seekers supposed to be noble and dignified?"

"I'm not your usual Seeker. I would have thought the fact I have boobs were a good clue."

"You barely have boobs. What does David hang onto when you're together?"

"Let's not get personal."

Then Faye was quiet.

"Have you seen that fisherman guy?" she finally asked. "I figure he's probably like you - all happy and disgusting and prancing around."

I shook my head, then realized Faye couldn't see me. "I hear he took a small boat out at first light. People tell me he does that sometimes. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking of going a round with him. Hey, he did a good job in the contest."

I sighed. "You aren't going to do that Faye. Despite all your big talk, you're loyal to your husband in a very traditional way."

Faye shrugged. That dislodged the cloth over her eyes and she painfully readjusted it. "Okay, okay. I'm maybe a little worried about him. He sounded terrible last night. I'm not sure he ever really came back from that fight at Cape Fear."

"Pretend it didn't happen," I replied. "Congratulate him on a good fight the next time you see him. Buy him a drink. Flirt a little - as if you need to be told that."

"Flirting is an art-form. Don't you dare talk bad about flirting."

Then, for another long moment, Faye was silent again.

"That story he told us. About Cape Fear?" she eventually said.

"Yes?"

"Was it a sign?"

"Yes."

Faye let out a long sigh. "You know I'm not as smart as you. What did it mean?"

"That I have to keep telling everyone about Paul and what he said."

"How the Blood feel about the half-Creed - hell, how everyone thinks about the half-Creed - isn't something that will just change."

"I know. That's why I want you and Rose to leave."

Faye snorted.

"No," she said.

"Faye..." I began earnestly.

"Hey, honored big-shot Seeker-Lady, get me another wet cloth for my eyes. Damned if I know why, but it's always helped with my hangovers."

"I asked Faye to leave," I told Rose.

She was perched on one of the temple's front walls, facing the river as she tried to enjoy the morning sun She looked even worse than Faye.

"What the hell did she do now?" Rose asked painfully.

"Nothing, but I have to pursue this half-Creed business. It will be dangerous. Actually, I want both of you to go."

Rose laughed at me. Then she winced at what that did to her head.

"As if anything we do is safe," she grumbled at me.

"Rose, this is going to get worse. A lot worse."

"Can we talk about this later? Like when I'm not praying for death?"

I shook my head. "Okay, but this is serious."

"Look, based on current experience, it will work like this: you'll give your speech about what Paul said, someone will get mad, and I'll solve the problem by having really fantastic sex with them."

"That's neither likely or practical and you know it. And was it really that good?"

Rose sighed. "So good that I figure it's a sign that I should stay with you. I swear that girl has a secondary mutation of the tongue."

I shook my head, "Dammit, Rose..."

"Get lost, kid," she told me bluntly. "Remember that I'm the older sister. And if you think I'll let you put me in a situation where I have to explain to Dad why I wasn't there when a mob of religious cretins killed you, then you're out of your mind. Besides, we're also now in the business of killing the Hand. You need Faye and me around for that."

I got to my feet. I was trying not to be angry and I wasn't doing a good job of it.

"Have you seen Priestess Kathryn this morning?" Rose asked.

"No," I said shortly.

"How about Demetrios?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's walking around with a really startled expression on his face."

"Huh, what's his scent like?"

"Like a large amount of freshly spilled semen. He and Kathryn obviously didn't get much sleep last night."

Rose was cackling as I walked away.

A small caravan passed through the village, obviously on its way down to the Washton Ferry. From the bedraggled look of the wagons and guards, it looked like it had recently been in a fight. The lead wagon was displaying the decapitated head of some kind of lizard impaled on an upright spear. It was a warning that the caravan had already triumphed over one foe and anyone else interested in trouble should reconsider.

It seemed to me that the lizard had a disgusted expression on its face.

As I watched, a carriage slipped out of line and paused. A man hefting a big pack jumped out of the carriage. He casually waved to the driver to indicate that he had all of his gear and the carriage lurched forward, heading back into its position in the caravan. The man walked to the end of the dock and paused to buy some food from the girl who served spiced fish and bread.

I was giving Faye a neck and shoulder massage. It was the least I could do for her since she'd helped prevent an ugly fight. A fight that I really hadn't wanted.

"Faye?" someone said in surprise.

"Now what?" Faye asked in exasperation. She pulled the cloth off her face and looked around. She didn't actually get up because I had my thumbs on the muscles of the back of her neck. Faye had been groaning in appreciation.

"Don't you dare use this as an excuse to stop," she told me sternly.

I sometimes have imaginary mental conversations with Dad. I ask him how he gets people to treat him so respectfully. He usually just laughs and tells me that it doesn't matter that I'm a married woman and a Seeker - I'm going to be Faye and Rose's little sister forever. And I should just accept their strength and loyalty and put up with all of the teasing.

Then Faye looked at the fellow who'd spoken. And her eyes went wide.

"Jonah!" she yelped as she jumped to her feet.

The fellow in question was the man who'd left a passing caravan. He was obviously on his way to the temple. Because of the really big pack, I at first figured him for some kind of tradesman. His scent said he was a Spider, but there was also the tang of fine machine oil around him. Perhaps he was a tinker instead of a merchant?

But then I got a good look at his face. He looked like a younger version of Benjamin - Faye's husband. And like Ben, he carried a pair of shortswords and had the appearance of a man who knew how to use them.

"Jonah!" Faye repeated as she grabbed him in her arms and hoisted him in the air. The hug she gave him was so unrestrained that it would have broken some men's bones. Jonah was grinning at Faye as he returned her hug.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked in unison.

It looked like the massage session was over. So I stood up.

"I'm working with the Sword Priestess Militant," Jonah said after Faye put him down. "She asked me to take a look at what was going on here and maybe lend a hand. I heard there was a fight with the Hand?"

Faye looked delighted as she put Jonah down.

"I'm here with a Seeker!" she announced proudly.

Then she continued.

"We helped during a fight with the Hand and now we're going to piss off every Blood in the entire world! You must have been sent by the Old One to help!"

Jonah blinked in surprise.

"What?" he asked.