I apologize for the delay, this was a very hard chapter to write and it's not even done. Here's the deal: I have been selected for an internship that will last approximately four months. I will be so secluded I don't even know if I'll be able to receive snail mail. So, knowing this, I decided to post this chapter, even though it isn't done. You won't be suffering for lack of length, though! It's just as long as my other chapters. I apologize, but I most likely won't be posting again until mid-July or August. My best wishes and please have patience with me!

I have two technical acknowledgements. The first is for "May Morning Dew". I believe it is a traditional Celtic song, though I cannot place it as Irish or Scottish. One of these days, I am going to look it up and find out. As far as I know, ML has never used names for the months in Valdemar. If anyone knows of it, let me know. For now, for the sake of "May Morning Dew", I'm pretending there is an appropriately named month. Second technical acknowledgement (and recommendation for all of you) is Patricia T. O'Conner. She is the author of Woe Is I: The Grammarphobe's Guide to Better English In Plain English. Fantastic grammar book. I highly recommend it. It makes the twists of the English language amusing and is a very handy reference. It also has amusing chapter titles, such as "Verbal Abuse", "Comma Sutra", "Plurals Before Swine" and "The Living Dead".

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The cathedral was a testament to the skills of the artisans of Haven. The smooth stone walls arced overhead and flying buttresses soared, but the beautifully intricate stained glass windows were cast into shadows by the hundreds of wax candles burning inside. Andreya imagined they were a sight to see from the outside of the cathedral. However, this close to Midwinter, few were outside to enjoy it. The bench she was sitting on was hundreds of years old, lovingly carved and polished to a gleam. No cushions were needed, as the carpenter had fashioned the benches to fit the contours of the body. The cathedral smelled as all old cathedrals smelled, slightly dank and musty under the warm scents of melting wax, incense and old parchment. The cold from outside failed to seep into the cathedral, which was warmed by the bodies of the worshippers.

Acacia sat beside Andreya and watched her friend as she leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes, sighing, tension leaving her shoulders. Before them, standing on the steps leading to the alter, stood a children's choir. It was perhaps the best choir Acacia had ever heard. She was unsure what religion it was that Andreya practiced and did not even know this beautiful old cathedral resided in the heart of the temple district. However, one thing she knew of this religion was the worshippers relied on music to bring their prayers to the ear of their god. The voices of the children soared, the low harmonies soothing and felt in the very bones of the worshippers while the upper harmonies rang clear and true. Andreya was humming softly with the middle harmonies and several people around her were doing the same. To Acacia, it felt as if she had been wrapped in a warm blanket.

The last chord faded into the vaulted space above their heads and the choir dispersed into the crowd, meeting up with their parents as the worshippers began leaving. Acacia followed in Andreya's wake, observing the worshippers with wide eyes and making sure the bundles she carried did not get wrinkled too badly. There was a suspiciously large amount of armed people in the crowd, armor gleaming under cloaks. Many of those armed people were gathering up children and spouses and bundling up for the walk home. Andreya fought the crowd to an alcove, where numerous small candles flickered in the breeze created by the passing people. Slipping a copper into the money box, she pulled a small tin box from under the table on which the small candles rested. The box contained a piece of flint, a striker and some half-burned fluff. She used the striker to light the fluff, then lit a candle from the small flame created. Placing the candle on a small metal plate, she murmured something in a language Acacia was unfamiliar with.

"Ah, the inestimable Acacia and Andreya. How do you do this fine, chilly evening, my ladies?"

Acacia looked up to see Jon the Assassin leaning against the wall of the alcove, smirking slightly. She raised an eyebrow as Andreya ignored him to continue murmuring.

"You worship here, too?" In a different tone, Acacia's question could have been hostile. As it was, she was merely curious.

Jon nodded. "As do most assassins, as well as a large number of northern mercenaries. I'm surprised I haven't seen you here before, Acacia."

She shrugged. "I was raised Shin'a'in."

Jon appeared genuinely interested. "Ah, one of the few other religions that protects warriors."

"No offense, but isn't it a bit strange to be an assassin and worship a god that doesn't appear to be…well…evil?"

Jon laughed. "To the contrary, Acacia. Most assassins are deeply spiritual, in their own way. It does happen that a large number of assassins worship gods that believe chaos is goodness, but some of us try not to be completely evil."

Remembering Andreya's strict rules on whom she could take a job on, she nodded thoughtfully. Andreya finished murmuring, pressed her palms together and bowed slightly, then turned to Jon. She smiled slightly.

"Jon. I received your message."

"Good. I had no doubt Acacia would deliver it." He pushed himself off the wall and squared his shoulders. Charm overtook his features, turning him from plain to handsome. "Would you ladies care to join me for a very late supper? I have been paid in advance and thus find myself financially solvent for the first time in a while. I wish to celebrate."

"Must be a good job," Andreya murmured, not taking his arm.

"I doubt it will be at all challenging. Dinner?"

Andreya shook her head and Acacia followed suit. "I'm afraid I must decline your generous offer. I have somewhere to be."

"This late?"

"Certainly it is not too late if you're offering to take us to dinner," Andreya murmured demurely.

"Ouch! I do believe that is a point for you, dear Andreya. Well, then. Another time." Smile not slipping a bit, he sauntered from the alcove, whistling a cheery tune. Acacia stepped up behind Andreya as Andreya frowned in thought.

"What was that all about?"

"Mm?" Andreya quirked an eyebrow in question.

"I do believe that is the first time an assassin has offered to buy me dinner."

"Nonsense. I've bought you dinner before."

"You don't count. I know my dinner won't have something a little extra in it when you buy it."

Andreya smiled. "Well, I do believe he is up to something. What he is up to, I have no idea." She reached up and settled the strap of a small bag over her shoulder and accepted the bundles from Acacia. "Well, I have places to be. Are you going to be with Derrick?"

"As a matter of fact."

"Well. Be careful walking back to the Palace."

"As ever."

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"Favorite color?"

Acacia lay with her head propped on the footboard of Derrick's bed, her head cushioned by a much abused pillow. There were several colorful threads tied around Derrick's big toe, which she was using as the tie-off for the knotted bracelet she was making for Andreya. It was something Andreya had taught her when they had first met at a siege. Derrick lay opposite her, propped up against the headboard with another pillow that had long ago lost its shape. He considered her question for a moment before answering.

"I'd have to say blue. Yours?"

Acacia grinned. "I'm Shin'a'in. There isn't a color that I met that I haven't liked."

"Arrrgggghhhh. Quit succumbing to stereotypes. Come on, favorite color."

Acacia sighed. "Blue."

Derrick grinned and jiggled his foot a little, causing her to curse and shoot a mock glare in his direction.

"All right, my turn. Let me think." He frowned in concentration again, then smiled slyly. "Favorite song."

"Easy. Sun and Shadow."

He groaned. "Not that old song. It's so old it creaks."

"If it's so bad, how has it lasted all these years."

"Eh. True."

"Come on, what's yours?"

Now he grinned nastily. "Kerowyn's Ride."

"What? No."

"Hey, this is a question and answer session, not an answer and deny session. I'll leave that to the Council."

Acacia laughed, then tied off the bracelet. Using a small knife, she slit the loop around his toe and stretched out the bracelet, studying it critically for a moment before nodding and wrapping it around her hand. Then she looked up at Derrick. "Let's play a game."

Derrick smiled, a lusty twinkle in his eyes. "I am very willing to play a game. What do you have in mind?"

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"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Acacia grinned and used her free hand to tug her hat back down around her ears. They stood at a portcullis for a smaller gate, and the pair of Palace Guards on duty grinned as they enjoyed the sight of the Herald squirming.

"Hey, you chose 'Dare'."

"Just out of curiosity, what was the question?"

"You'll never know." She grinned cheekily and gripped the pail of warm water with both hands, rocking on the balls of her feet. It had begun snowing again and the temperature, which had never managed to rise above freezing, plunged again. The only reason the Guards had ventured from their heated Guardboxes was to watch the spectacle of a Herald completing a dare issued by a mercenary. Derrick scratched his head for a moment and frowned at the heavy portcullis, then crossed his arms and turned back to Acacia.

"Do I really have to lick this?"

"Yep."

"It's dirty."

"I'm sure you've licked worse on Circuit."

"I'm not so sure about that. What is the pail of water for?"

Now her smile turned devilish. "I heard it's so cold right now that if you licked something metal, you'd get frozen to it. I want to find out."

Derrick sputtered in objection and his hands went to his hips. "How am I supposed to kiss you if my tongue is stuck to an old, dirty frozen portcullis?"

"Shut your mouth and lick."

He growled and turned, trying not to think of the centuries of grime he would soon be tasting. The Guards howled with laughter as he stuck his tongue out and applied it as quickly as he could to the metal, intending to taste it as briefly as possible. Unfortunately, Acacia's rumor was truth.

"I thuck!"

"What was that?" Acacia leaned good-naturedly back against the portcullis next to Derrick and studied her fingernails, giving them a good buff on her cloak.

"I thaid I thuck!"

"You suck?"

"Acahthia!"

Laughing, Acacia picked up the bucket of warm water at her feet and used it to thaw Derrick's tongue from the porticullis. When he was free, he stood back and glared at the howling Guards and the grinning Acacia. Then he frowned at the rotten taste in his mouth.

"My turn. Dare or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Not possible. Dare or Dare?"

She sighed, fighting another grin. "Fine. Dare."

"Kiss me." He stuck his face into hers so she could get a good whiff of the taste the gate had left on his tongue.

"Ew!"

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"That was foul."

"It was your idea."

"Don't remind me." Acacia's stomach heaved again at the reminder of the taste of the portcullis and she leaned over the bucket tucked between the two of them again. Derrick groaned and she emptied herself of more of her dinner, and began gagging in sympathy.

"Oh, please stop vomiting."

"Trying."

They sat side by side in one of the bathing rooms for Heraldic use. It was placed inconveniently to the rooms of most of the Heralds, so it was empty at this hour. Like every bathing room, it was warm and damp from the boilers and the baths. They had both shed clothing in response to the heat, slumping in shirts and breeches against the cool white tile of the wall. The bench they were seated on was hard wood and was slowly cutting off the circulation to her legs. However, the inconvenience of the bench was outweighed by the convenience of the bucket and a puking buddy.

Derrick rolled his head against the tile, a few fine strands of dark hair sticking to the condensation. "We could always find Caia."

"No. Noooooooooo. Caia would just make fun of me. Then she would tell Auntie Kero, who would also make fun of me. No. Let's talk about something else."

Derrick swallowed heavily and pondered for a moment, his eyes closed. "All right. Why do you want to stop being a mercenary?"

"Ask something else."

He chuckled weakly. "This is a Truth. Why do you want to stop being a mercenary?"

"What's the Dare?"

"I've selected Truth for you. You can't go for the Dare, as I've already asked the question. Besides, unlike you, who received a secondary taste, I had my tongue frozen to that damn portcullis. You owe me."

Acacia sighed and cracked her eyes open, taking in his finely hewn profile for a moment, then closing her eyes again. Some things were better told in the dark.

"You're a very arrogant man, do you know that?"

"Some people consider that to be one of my more charming traits." He smiled when he said it. "Answer the question."

She was silent for a while, studying the darkness behind her eyelids. "I'm tired," she said at last. "I've been fighting for six years. It wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't the daughter of Herald-Captain Kerowyn shena Tale'sedrin. However, I am, so it feels like I have a target on my back. Everyone knows who I am, even when I don't acknowledge being Shin'a'in. Mercs in Companies I've never even been near track me down in taverns and gush over me and Auntie Kero…then they track me down on the battle field so they can brag over how they took out the daughter of one of the most famous mercenaries in history. I've been captured, tortured, stalked, singled-out and lonely in a camp of hundreds of people.

"I have one friend that isn't related to me and is still alive. It's as if as soon as I find someone I can be close to, word goes out and that person is also targeted." She laughed softly. "I think that might be why Andy and I are such close friends. Everyone is even more scared of her than they are of me. In the beginning, I thought my problems were because I was with the Bolts. Hellfires, I grew up with them. I held my first sword in the practice ring in winter quarters. Auntie Kero saw it and made up an excuse that the Bolts don't go out enough for me to get some experience. She found me the Hunters and sent me there. We both knew I would not advance there, but it would get me out of the Bolts, out of Valdemar, where I might have a chance of earning my own reputation and gaining some experience. It didn't work. Now, I might not even have the Hunters. Word went out the day before I left that Ian was thinking of combining us with another Company."

She opened her eyes now to see Derrick's expression. He regarded her somberly, his eyes level. "Do you think the Herald-Captain ever felt like this?"

"I don't know. She must have."

"Have you asked her?"

Acacia looked down and shrugged. The truth was, she was worried Kero had never felt like this and would think she was a weakling for feeling this way. Derrick read her body language and nodded to himself, then decided not to push her.

"I'll tell you something someone once told me." She looked up as he spoke. "People like us go out and fight not for money or glory, but because someone has to. If we don't do it, it falls to the unethical people to do it. Now, I don't know about you, but I'd much rather the people who cared were out there."

Acacia thought about it a moment. It was not nearly enough to heal the soul deep wounds, but it was something to think about. "Who told you that?"

Now he smiled. "Kero."

"Yes." Acacia nodded, looking ahead, a sheepish grin on her face. "She would."

"Acacia." His voice was serious again. "We all have nightmares. It's what separates us from the people who don't care."

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"Andy. Come on, wake up for me."

The dream had her in its grip. It was a familiar dream and had haunted her for years. Its familiarity did not lessen its torment. Her heart was pounding and she fought for breath, her chest constricting. She felt her hands flailing and gripping something soft. His arms were around her, warm steel bands that fought to restrain her struggles. He was calling her name, but she could not respond. She felt as if she were being swallowed whole, sinking into the torment. To Jeremy, the dream lasted an eternity. He was helpless to bring her out of it, and every scream tore at his heart.

At last, the dream released her. She drifted in the darkness, too tired to open her eyes and content to feel Jeremy's strength and warmth around her. He gathered her closer and pressed her face to his shoulder, breathing in her scent and rocking. Her limbs were heavy, as if they were filled with lead, and her head lolled when Jeremy released it to tuck a blanket more firmly around her.

"Are you going to open your eyes?" he whispered after a while.

"Mm."

"I know you're awake."

She dragged her heavy eyes open and looked at his face, shadowed in the flickering firelight. His eyes were dark and haunted, showing his exhaustion after a night on duty, and stubble darkened his chin. She inhaled his spicy scent and felt the remains of the dream retreat just a bit.

"What did you dream about?"

"Before." Her voice was as soft as his.

"Will you tell me?"

"Eventually."

He sighed. At least she's acknowledging there is an 'eventually'. Then he stood, gathering her in his arms. He glanced around the room, noticing two ball gowns laid out and scattered sewing supplies, evidencing how she had passed the evening while waiting for him. "Did you eat?"

"Kero made me."

"Good."

"You people are going to make me fat," she complained weakly.

"We have a long way to go before you need to start worrying about that."

"My breaches were tight."

"Good."

"Jere-"

"Hush. We'll argue later."

He laid her on the bed, then disrobed before joining her under the blankets. She rolled automatically so her face was tucked into the crook formed by the joining of his neck and shoulder, and his arms rose to wrap around her waist and tuck one hand in her hair. "You should sleep," he murmured.

"Can't. I'll just dream again."

They lay like that for awhile, listening to the muffled noise of the city outside, enjoying the warmth of the blankets. She heard his voice rumble softly and it took her a moment to realize he was softly singling.

"How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob Listening to the barks and the howls of a dog Or in summer to wander the wide valleys through And to pluck the wild flowers in the May morning dew Summer is coming, oh summer is near With the leaves on the trees and the skies blue and clear And the birds, they are singing their fond notes so true And the flowers, they are springing in the May morning dew The house I was reared in is but a stone on a stone And all around the garden the weeds, they have grown And all the kind neighbors that ever I knew Like the red rose they've withered in the May morning dew God be with the old folks, who are now dead and gone And likewise my brothers, young Dennis and John As they tripped through the heather, the wild hare to pursue With their joys, they were mingled in the May morning dew." She was asleep before the last note faded from the air. ----------------------

The perfume, lights, music and colors of the swirling courtiers were enough to make her head spin, but Acacia was having the time of her life. She had started the evening off with bang by entering the ballroom on Andreya's arm, scandalizing the courtiers. Andreya had worked wonders with her gown, turning it into a work of art. The neckline had been modified so that it swooped low and flowed gracefully to meet the sleeves over the points of the shoulders. The skirt had been slit and sewn to frame a very special shift. Likewise, the sleeves had been modified so they fell away below the elbow, forming a smooth cascade of blue cloth. Simple black and silver embroidery had been added around the neckline.

Even more beautiful was the shift the gown was designed to frame. It was a thing of beauty, gleaming black silk that was liberally covered in silver-gilt embroidery that had taken Andreya an entire winter to do. Its neckline echoed the line of Acacia's dress and was unadorned beyond the tiny gathers that accented its simplicity. Starting at the hem of the gown, mythological creatures had been created out of patterns that looked as if they had been created with a single loop of string, something Andreya called "knot-work". Acacia had lost herself in the endless patterns more than once during the long quiet evenings. The embroidery climbed the skirt and thinned out as it reached the waist. Likewise, more embroidery covered both of the sleeves, which ended in points with little braided loops that slipped over the middle finger on each hand so the sleeves were pulled taught and the points were kept straight.

Acacia had argued with Andreya for a full candlemark before relenting and wearing the shift, succumbing to Andreya's argument that she needed to keep a low profile. If that's even possible, Acacia mused, glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Andreya had designed her own ball gown so that she could wear it in several different styles, depending on the crowd she was mingling with. She had succumbed to her own flair for fashion and gone for a more exotically styled wrap dress made from steel gray silk that shimmered and caught the light of the candles. The fashionably high neck was open and sliced sharply down her chest, revealing a hint of alabaster collar bone and cleavage before its abrupt plunge was stopped by a wide black silk sash tied around her abdomen, just below her breasts. The sash was another example of Andreya's embroidery skills, showing the same knotwork creatures, this time in burgundy embroidery. The black silk was shot through with strands of burgundy, which were echoed by the embroidery. The skirt crackled with life around her legs as she strode, and a person who paid attention would note the single layer of black silk petticoats under the skirt.

Aiko had done their hair and outdone herself. Acacia's hair was swept up to the top of her head in a series of complicated loops and twists with ribbons added for support. It managed to somehow look both elegant and fitting for a mercenary, just a touch wild. Andreya's hairstyle could only be described as sharp. Aiko had twisted it back and up, leaving the sharp bones of her face bare. Instead of tucking the ends of the twist in, as was fashionable, she had let the ends fan out behind Andreya's head, giving it that same touch of edginess Acacia's had.

"Ladies, please make my evening glorious and allow me to escort you." The voice came from behind them, and Acacia fought a smile as Andreya glanced back over her shoulder.

"I thought you were under strict orders not to associate with her in public, Milord Herald."

Derrick wiggled his eyebrows. "I just wanted the opportunity to peak down the bosom of her dress, Milady Assassin. Now that my mission is accomplished, I fully expect her to send me off like the cad I am."

Acacia fought off a laugh. "Begone, scoundrel. We have courtiers to scandalize."

Derrick clutched his heart before bowing and sweeping a jaunty white plumed hat from his head. "Alas, my heart bleeds, fair maiden. Away I shall go, lost and forlone…" He yelped as he was abruptly shoved to the side by Aiko, who wormed her way between Andreya and Acacia.

"Go bleed somewhere else. I have strict orders to keep you away from her for the evening."

"Shattered again. My heart cannot take such abuse."

"I'll give you abuse," Acacia muttered as Derrick turned and quickly struck up a conversation with a female Herald. She turned and winked at Acacia, giving a quick signal that she in no way intended to move in on what was clearly Acacia's territory, before moving to the dance floor with Derrick and smoothly entering the dance that was already in progress.

"So, ladies," Aiko intoned. "We're here. Now what do we do?"

"Scandalize more courtiers?" Acacia asked, cocking her head in Andreya's direction.

"You ladies enjoy doing that." She unhooked her arm from Aiko's and nodded in the direction of several City Guard Captains. She had come to know several of them in the few days since she and Jeremy had begun their little, well, affair was the only term she could think of. She certainly did not want to call it a romance, after all. People assassins romanced tended to die fairly quickly. "I'm going to go mingle."

"Don't accept any jobs," Acacia reminded her as she turned to walk away. Andreya quirked a smile over her shoulder.

"Really. I thought Valdemar was supposed to be a peaceful country."

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By the end of the candlemark, Andreya had been offered jobs on no less than three people. That was not counting the times different people had offered to employ her regarding the same person. All that, and the fact that she could make a fortune from working in Haven alone, fled her mind at the sight that greeted when she turned from declining the latest offer. The doors to the ballroom had swung open again to admit none other than Lord Acario. A quick glance around the room assured her that both Derrick and Acacia had taken an opportunity to slip onto a balcony, no doubt for some of the "association" Captain Kerowyn had wanted them to avoid.

Acario was certainly a golden boy, in Andreya's estimation. He was strikingly handsome in a sun god sort of way. Tanned, with golden hair and a sunny smile, he was all warmth, until a person saw his eyes. Derrick's eyes stared out of that face, but there was none of the warmth of Derrick's. Instead, they were hard, crystalline and almost arctic. Andreya repressed a shiver, then turned to begin her search for Acacia and Derrick.

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"There you two are!"

Acacia and Derrick hastily jumped apart as Aiko strode onto the balcony, beads on her Shin'a'in outfit clanking quietly. Caia followed in a whisper of russet skirts, Bram riding her hip and peering around intently.

"Caia, it's too cold for that baby to be out here," Acacia said, reaching for Bram, who immediately growled and latched himself onto Caia.

"You see my problem," Caia said dryly. "He'll let go when he realizes his father is nice and warm inside."

"Weren't you complaining about being a horrible mother not too long ago?"

Caia snorted. "Yes. Then I realized I'd given birth to a hellion and decided to let him learn his own lessons. Within reason, of course."

"May the Bright Lady protect us when he teams up with Merrick, Graham and Sariah," Aiko intoned. "Speaking of needing the Bright Lady's protection, I thought I told you Auntie Kero said to stay away from each other."

Derrick abruptly swept an arm around Aiko, pressing his free hand to his heart and gazing mistily at the stars.

"Ack!"

"Ah, sweet Aiko, my love for your sister is like…like the snow, pure and-"

"Full of dung?"

"Well, now." He drew back abruptly and pursed his lips in concentration. "That does defeats the purpose of purity, now doesn't it?"

"Quit laying it on and get back inside."

"That might not be a good idea." Andreya slipped out into the balcony. "Our favorite lordling is inside."

"He's here?"

"Indeed."

Derrick frowned. "And he's still alive because…?"

Andreya arched a brow. "I don't believe in playing into the hands of nasty people, and you should do the same."