Disclaimer: I'm only playing in Pat's beautiful playground.

Chapter 18: Kindling

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I stayed in May's basement for a full span. The pain became easier to bear after two days, the residual bleeding slowly tapering off to light spatter. May kept me mostly confined to the narrow bed, keeping me well-watered with herbal concoctions mixed into teas. It was a terribly long time. I wasn't used to sitting so still, to giving myself time to think. My days at the Mare had been busy, and in South Renere they were even more so; long hours filled with action as I tried to carve out a semblance of a life. But even so, there wasn't nearly as much time to dwell on my thoughts at May's as I would have imagined. The nights were long. And there were moments in the days — times when May would have matters to attend to, or other patients to see, and I was left to my own devices. But these moments were short, and few and far between. Not enough to gain a stronghold.

The rest of the time, we planned.

May, it turned out, knew a lot about all manner of topics. She was familiar with most of Renere's neighborhoods, and many of the notable inns and establishments. We spent hours poring over the map and discussing the drawbacks and benefits of each. She brought me up to speed on Renere's current politics, state of affairs, and the social standings of various nobles. She attempted to teach me proper courtly etiquette as well, but I already knew it — having learned how to act in polite society from Mother, who had been well-versed in such things.

As the days slipped by and I grew strong enough to leave the confines of the bed, May brought me upstairs to a small bedroom decorated mutely in shades of yellow. It was a lovely room — artfully designed and perfectly immaculate. There was a bed, flawlessly made. A large wooden dresser. A small desk covered with a few trinkets. There was not a single thing out of order — even the things atop the desk seemed to have been placed there with purpose. A large window faced the garden, which was mostly bare for the coming winter, though I saw several plants I didn't recognize lined up along the back, still green beneath the frost. It was a cozy room. But it felt empty, somehow. Cold. As if its soul had slipped away too long ago to count.

She set me down on the bed, creases running across the bedspread beneath my sudden weight, and opened the dresser. There were dresses inside; simple ones of cotton, and fine ones laced with silk. She withdrew them one a time, handling them with care before offering them to me.

"Try it on."

"I can't take these," I protested. "You've done so much for me already."

"Don't be daft," she said shortly. "These are Calia's old things. She left them behind. And I'm sick and tired of them collecting dust. We may have to take them in a bit, but they should fit well enough."

She piled them on the bed and turned to the dresser again, sighing as she searched through the drawers. "So many things. I should've cleared this out ages ago. But, lucky for you, you can have your pick now. Here."

She turned toward me again, holding out a small comb. The top was braided with a pattern of flowers. I took it, running my fingers over the delicate carvings.

"It's beautiful."

May turned away, facing the dresser again. "It was for the wedding."

"May, you should keep this," I insisted, holding the comb back out to her. "I couldn't—"

"You can," she said firmly. And her tone implied there would be no convincing her otherwise. "And you will. It'll do much more good for you than it ever did sitting here. Try on the dresses, Dayana."

I turned to the pile, running my fingers through the topmost dress; a thing of flowing silk and velvet. Much finer than anything I would have ever expected to find in this corner of the city. There wasn't a single speck of dust within the fabric folds.

The dresses were big, but only slightly. The bodices were loose, and the hems trailed the floor. May proclaimed the fixes simple enough. Over the next two days, she trimmed and sewed and measured. And trimmed again. I helped, and thought of Calia, and wondered why she would leave such fine things behind. And when had May given up hope that she would ever come back. But I didn't ask, and I didn't venture into the yellow room again.

Slowly and methodically, May prepared me for what was to be my new life; a life that was the same, and yet entirely different. Unimaginable, still, despite our endless conversations and long nights spent wondering in the dark. There was only one thing I was sure of: this time I wouldn't fail. May had lit a fire inside me, and now I would do it — take hold of my destiny. For Denna. For Mother, and even Father and Grandmother and Grandfather. Even if they wouldn't have approved. But I would survive. I would do it for myself. I had lost far too much not to.

So the days passed, and my body healed, and we plotted. May quizzed me on the events of the day, and on the names of noble lords and ladies. We discussed the arts, referencing plays, poems, and songs of significance. This was hard, for it brought up memories of chatting with Denna in kitchens long past, and afternoons of study with Mother. These memories were gentle and sweet, and long forgotten, and cut in ways the darker ones of grief and loss that followed me always didn't anymore. Perhaps it was their childhood innocence. The reminder of a life that was long out of my grasp. Perhaps it would be easier… to forget.

So I put them aside and pushed ahead, squeezing myself to fit a mask that was beautiful and perfect and desirable. And if it didn't have room for all the parts of myself, then what did that matter? The road ahead was hard. And it would do better not to wear my heart on my sleeve — better to push it in, bury it somewhere deep inside. So we spent hours painting my face and styling my hair, until I looked into the mirror glass and barely recognized the girl staring back at me, her cheeks rosy when they should have been pale, and May declared herself satisfied. In the end, the only thing that remained was the matter of my papers — the only way to leave the city in the foreseeable future.

"I'll take care of it," was all May said when I brought up the subject early on. She had taken care of everything. More than I could have asked for, and far more than I can ever repay. So I didn't press the subject. The days passed, and she made no mention of papers, and I said nothing.

By the following Luten, the extra dresses were trimmed to fit and packed into a small carrying case, along with Calia's comb and several more of her things. I stood before May in her foyer, clad in a dress of plain homespun, with my cloak wrapped around my shoulders. My hair was twisted upwards, strands falling artfully to frame my face. There were gentle traces of paint around my eyes. I looked, for all intents and purposes, like a proper lady. Of course, Derren's knife was still securely strapped to my hip, but I wasn't quite prepared to let it go.

"Don't dawdle," May said firmly. "Go on, straight to the Central District. You look much too nice to be walking round these parts."

"I won't."

"Good." She was silent for a bit, looking me over. I said nothing. My hands trembled very slightly and I slipped them out of sight. I suddenly found it very difficult to say goodbye. May reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from my face, her weathered skin rough against my cheek.

"Remember the plan," she said. "Be open, but not too much. Give them nothing that isn't earned. Don't overstay your welcome. And don't travel in the winter. The roads aren't safe."

I nodded.

"There's one more thing." She held out a thick envelope of heavy parchment. "Here."

"What is it?" The envelope was stiff, the parchment almost unyielding.

"Papers," she said simply. "You'll have no problem with these. They'll be good anywhere in the four corners, should you be asked."

I fumbled with the seal but she reached out, lowering my hand. "No, don't open it now. Go on, the day is passing. You should go, settle in before the evening rush. You won't have coin to spare."

I nodded with as much determination as I could manage, though I could feel the prickling sting at the edges of my eyes as I looked at her face. I couldn't imagine how it came to be that our paths had crossed. She had given me more than I would ever deserve. And I had nothing for her in return. Not even coin enough to cover the medicine she had given me, and she had refused all my attempted offers. "May—"

"Come now," she said. "None of that. And don't come back, you hear me? I don't expect to see you again."

"Okay," I said softly. I picked up the case, hugging it to my chest. Then I paused, looking at her again. My eyes traced the weathered lines of her face.

"Be careful." Her voice was quiet.

"May," I tried again, pushing past the overwhelming tightness in my throat. "How can I ever repay you? I—"

"Hush." She stepped forward and I briefly smelled a faint trace of lemon before her arms were around me, pulling me against the rough fabric of her dress. I hugged her back, trembling despite my best efforts. She held me for a long moment before stepping away, her hands back down at her sides. As if the hug had never been.

"You remind me of her," she said quietly, her composure seeming to crack around the edges. Her voice shook slightly and she offered me a feeble smile. For the first time, she looked like an old woman. "Go on, get out of here."

"Thank you," I breathed. "For everything."

I stepped past her and out into the cold Dearth morning. She gave me a final wave and firmly closed the door.

I didn't ask which her she meant.

Leaving South Renere was easy. As May suggested, I had no intentions to linger. But there was still one stop I had to make before I left it all behind. One goodbye that mattered.

The desk was empty when I stepped inside the Iron Tree. I walked through to the quiet dining room where I found Charrel behind the bar. He smiled when he saw me.

"Dayana. You are back."

I offered him a smile and sat down at the polished counter, placing the case on the floor at my feet. "Just for a minute. I'm sorry about before…"

He shook off my apology, his eyes thoughtful behind his wild beard as he looked me over. "You are leaving."

I nodded.

"Nagda. Not coming back."

"No," I agreed. "I wanted to thank you. And Hana. And say goodbye."

"Nia." He let out a deep chuckle. "No thank you needed." He reached behind the bar and lifted a bottle of rosy wine. "Hana not here. But let us drink. Here, I have fruit water with you."

"It's pretty potent," I warned him, smiling as I accepted the glass he pushed across the bar. "Not like scutten. Don't go drinking that off on your own. Could be dangerous."

He chuckled again, folding his arms as he watched me across the bar.

"Where?"

"Far," I said, shrugging. "Away." Anilin hovered on the edge of my tongue, but I didn't have the courage to let it out. As if speaking it aloud would make it untrue.

"Good," Charrel said. "Good."

I took a sip from the glass, the wine sweet and light, and a comfortable silence lapsed between us. I lowered my hands, twisting them around the stem of the glass. It was hard to explain what the safety of the Iron Tree had meant to me. It had been a place where I could go when I had nowhere else. A safe place to store my things or treat myself to a spare bit of conversation. Somewhere to rest my head in solitude when it all got too hard.

They were things far too difficult to voice. Every word that slipped to my tongue fell flat before it even tasted the air. I let the silence stretch, reaching instead for the envelope May had given me. The seal was a simple twisting of the flap. I worked it open, glancing at the papers within.

It was a writ of safe conduct, scripted across soft parchment and stamped with the seal of Renere's Travel Council. The creases ran deep when I unfolded it, as if they had set in some time ago, and a slightly odd bitter smell filled my nose. Something almost metallic that faded away before I could really bring it to mind. For all that, the ink looked fresh and clear, and the date set into the topmost corner was only two years past as of the first of Caitelyn. It was a beautiful document. Perfect, by all accounts. I wondered briefly how May had managed it when my eyes were drawn to the name framed within the central column. I swallowed, the wine suddenly heavy in my throat.

I looked at the date of issue again. Was it an eight after all? It was nearly impossible to tell. If I hadn't been looking I never would have caught it. But it could have… could have once been a five. My hand shook very slightly.

The document was no forgery.

"Dayana?"

I glanced up to see Charrel watching me, and I realized how pale my face must have looked. I folded the parchment and put it carefully away.

"It's nothing," I said, taking a rather large gulp of wine.

He stayed uncharacteristically quiet, watching me, then took a sip from his own glass and made a sour face.

"Kist. Fruit water," he said resolutely, smiling at me from behind his beard. He reached behind the bar for his treasured scutten. "A real drink?"

I let out a small laugh and shook my head, toying with the stem of my wineglass again as he busied himself with the stone bottle, pouring a small cup of the fine dark wine. I waited until he had taken several sips before speaking, keeping my voice casually light.

"Do you know… what happened to May's daughter?"

He frowned, lowering the cup. "Why ask?"

"Just curious."

"It was not good thing," he said abruptly. "Nothing to be curious."

I said nothing, waiting.

"Is not good," he repeated roughly, and there was a bitterness in his voice I had never heard before. "No mother should bury her child."

My chest clenched, and for just a moment it felt like all the air had slipped from the room.

"No," I managed, after a heavy, silent moment. A tremor ran through my hands and I lowered the wineglass with deliberate care so as not to knock it against the wood, lest it shatter.

Like Mother.

I wanted to say something. Anything. But I couldn't find the words, or meet Charrel's eyes. May was stronger than I could have ever imagined. I didn't need to know the rest after all. Her story was her story. And if May wanted to trust me with a piece of it — just a small piece to bring to Anilin in Calia's name — then I would do it. That was the shape of the fire that burned within me now.

"Give Hana my best," I said, when the glasses were empty at last. "Rieusa." And with a final goodbye, I left the Iron Tree for the last time; stopping only to collect the rest of my things from my secret fireplace. It was the last stronghold, and without it there was nothing holding me back. So I made my way pointedly down the street, walking with the certainty and grace of Mother's station, until South Renere was far behind me.

It took a long time — long enough for a dull ache to begin echoing through my feet with every footstep. But I didn't stop at all. Not until I was on the very edges of Renere's Central District. And that was terrifying in a whole new way.

The very streets there were alive, teeming with people who rushed purposefully to and fro. It had been months since I'd walked on roads not cracked and coated in filth, and everything from the bustling, well-dressed crowd to the glimpses of smooth cobblestones beneath their feet made me nervous. Sweat gathered across my skin despite the frigid air as I stepped into those nicer parts of the city. People streamed endlessly past me. All sorts. But all of the respectable kind.

I pulled my feet along, trying not to falter. One misstep, and they would surely spot the imposter in their midst. The guards would be upon me in seconds. At any moment, they would recognize me — see the face of a scared little whore beneath the paints. If they only touched my hand, they'd feel it tremble. But despite my unease, when I glanced at my reflection in a shop window, the dark eyes that stared back at me were those of a lady. Not so out of place with those around her. A duchess.

The trembling in my hands ceased, and I walked on.

I took a small room at Frames, a boarding house just outside the heart of Central that May had marked on her map. It was modest but respectable, and with my savings I could afford to stay there for nearly three span, assuming I spent my coin wisely. Three span. It seemed like a terribly short time. And if I failed, there was nowhere to go. No safety net. I had promised May I wouldn't go back.

Which meant I had no time to spare.