Chapter 2 of 4 Posted April 23

(Also - PLOT TWIST! Muhahahahaha!)


Markov, former priest of Karse, was sorely regretting agreeing to return after contacts assured him Solaris seemed to be sticking around. Between the shepherds and the hill-folk that had helped smuggle so many to safety passing the word along and his own occasional forays into rumormongering for the sake of finding tidbits of truth, he'd heard enough – of revolution, of dying Fires, of no more Furies – to dare to hope.

More critically, others had heard the same. Others he'd helped flee Karse, others he'd helped settle in Valdemar, others who'd heard stories of Karse from their parents, their elders, and felt so ill at ease in Valdemar that they longed for a chance at their homeland, but not at risk of their lives. So rather than let one of those others do something foolish – like walk to Sunhame without even speaking decent Karsite those impossible children he had informed them that he would return and if they didn't hear from him by midwinter, consider the rumors illegitimate and their contacts suspect.

It was a damn shame they'd been wrong, he thought wryly, sending a prayer to a god he'd never quite been able to give up on and reaching for the ley-line he'd found just before nightfall. It had been literal decades since he'd been able to work even the slightest of spells, one day in Valdemar under the watch of those never-ceasing eyes enough to tell him that spellwork of any sort was not tolerated in that land, regardless of intent, but some things were never truly forgotten.

Fortunately, warding against Furies was one of them.

Ignoring the press of induced hysteria against his shields, he bared his teeth at the chittering shadowed wretches and let his memory take over. If he tried to think about it too much, the Karsite would stutter over his Valdemaran-trained tongue, his eyes would shy away from a scene from his nightmares, the ley-line and spellwork would unravel in his hands under decades of habit.

He had used magic to heal, before fleeing to that mage-barren land. The Tedrel wars had been horrible.

He heard the scream of a horse and he grimaced; he'd hoped that if he tied his horse a few hills over by the spring with some misdirection wards and set up camp elsewhere, the beast would be spared. He didn't have the energy to calm an animal and ward himself, but it seemed his gambit hadn't paid off and he'd be walking back to Valdemar.

One Fury unraveled from this plane, shrieking in rage and leaving iced over clawmarks in the earth, and he stumbled, bracing himself on a stave and he swore, lashing out with ill-practiced fire magic to keep the other creatures back as he started work on another unraveling. That had taken far more out of him than he'd anticipated, and getting back to Valdemar, surviving the night, had just become far less likely.

He'd rather die and take these wretches with him than leave them to prey on his people. There was no better way to perish.

Suddenly, he smelled sage.

Burning arrows trailing sage-scented smoke slammed into the Furies, the creatures hissing and shrieking as blessed heat and flame harmed them so much more than a mere campfire could manage and Markov could hardly breath – and whatever breathe he had was stolen in the roar of an inferno.

Why was there no screaming he was surrounded by fire – he shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe through it, hands clenched into fists at his side and he shuddered as the heat surrounding him doubled, tripled, his skin felt tight, his tongue dry, where were the screams

But the only screams were Furies.

He had to force himself to open his eyes and couldn't suppress another shudder. He was surrounded by charred earth, heat shimmering from the blackened soil and he didn't look over when he heard a familiar – still so young – voice say, "Hail, traveler. Was that your horse a few hills over?"

"Dinesh," he murmured, turning around and meeting the now bewildered Firestarter's eyes, the even younger black-robe riding beside him – how young was Sunhame ordaining these days? – looking between them with a raised eyebrow. "Aye," he continued, "That's my horse. Couldn't keep the beast calm and unravel Furies, hoped to keep it out of their way."

"You managed it," Dinesh said, dismounting in a swirl of gold-and-black trimmed red, "Finding it alone we feared that the swarm was already feeding – not many can defend against them. Now, kinsman to my brother, I ask what brings you to Karse, and, more critically, what brings Furies down on you?"

The man who'd gone by Marcus Bellamy most of the past twenty years grimaced, registered the recognition on the other priest's face as something suspicious, something he needed to ask after, and asked, "How familiar are you with anchored curse traps?"

***===***pagebreak***===***

: - you hear me now? Anur?:

:I hear you!: Anur shot back, reaching behind him to bring his bow around and string it, Aelius surging over the next set of hills and taking a ridgeline. :How many?:

:A massive swarm,: Kir said, exhaustion edging his voice and Anur let one corner of his mind devolve to enraged cursing for ever letting his brother out of his sight because it had been two and a half weeks and this had happened. :At least it means we're on the right anchor. I am so glad you were almost ready to come back anyway.:

:Kir, if you'd called me the moment I rode in with Lenora, I'd have come. You know that.:

:Being able to count on your arrival without worrying about how we're going to explain it to the Witch-Queen is definitely preferable. How many arrows do you have and do you have any sage?:

:No sage, full quiver of twenty-three, half hunting.:

:Blast – sage is a distinctive hum – I need to borrow your eyes.:

:Whatever you need. I hear them! Getting close!:

Earlier experiments had revealed that Kir could receive his words with Aelius boosting him at a further distance than Kir could reply – their current limiter was the distance between the border and the 62nd, while Kir could only use words to reply within twenty mel. Further out and Anur could occasionally get feelings and sensations, sometimes jumbled concepts, but nothing truly coherent.

So when Anur had woken up in the wee hours of the morning choking on terror and rage not his own, he had quite reasonably panicked.

It had been two and a half weeks since he'd left the 62nd, and it had taken a full three days to get Lenora across the border, five to get them all to the guard post where the Haven delegation waited. Five more before the Haven-bound group rode off, Naomi pulling him aside after the Lord Marshal left and telling him that she'd convinced him to hold questions until next Midsummer, and another three before Griffon was called up towards Iftel.

Another day spent with the men of the 76th, wondering at how utterly similar his duties were here, as a Herald not quite within the chain of command, when compared with his duties in Karse, as a Lieutenant-Enforcer quite outside everyone's authority except apparently Kir's. And Solaris'. It was rather comforting, in a not-quite-right sort of way.

But it had been weeks of poor sleep and absurd volumes of stress and his brother hadn't been there. So while he would admit that slamming through the camp in pre-dawn light with Aelius warming up for the fastest speed he could manage had, perhaps, been done theatrically, he would never say it was over the top. Especially not when he reached the border and found a herdsman waving him down to pass on the message that Furies had been heard in the night and would he pass on thanks to the Firestarter for dealing with them?

He was never leaving Kir alone again. He shuddered to think what might happen if he was gone for any longer than a couple of weeks.

:Jkatha?: Aelius suggested.

:At this point I don't think fleeing the country would even help,: Anur groaned, :We've been cursed. What did I do in a past life?:

:Nothing,: Aelius replied promptly, Anur rising in the stirrups as they headed over the last rise and letting arrows fly.

At the edge of his peripheral vision, arrows started lighting up and the Furies shrieked, parting and boiling around them as his twenty-three arrows whirled in a spiraling tunnel edged with fire, allowing him and Aelius to pass through. Kir greeted him with a quick glance and a purely mental surge of relief-welcome-thank the One God you're home before turning back to the swarm he was fending off.

Aelius slid to a halt and Anur flung himself out of the saddle, arrows redirected to line the cleared circle Kir was maintaining and he drew his throwing knives instead, bow hooked around the horn of his saddle. Bracing his shoulder against Kir's because he couldn't quite smother the fear that he wasn't here, that Kir was gone, he asked, :What do you need?:

:We need to keep the swarm off Markov and Henri's backs long enough for them to dig up the anchor, determine how to destroy it or at least cut it off, and not die. The curse weakens the fabric of reality and makes the target irresistible to the beasts, so with us being right on top of the source - :

:We don't need to worry about Furies slipping off and causing havoc, but we also won't be running out of Furies anytime soon,: Anur finished dryly, :This Markov is the target then?:

A flash of bewildered hurt and confusion and rueful surprise, but all Kir said was, :Yes.:

"Ah kill it kill it kill it!" Henri screeched, fairly flying out of the ditch they'd been digging and scrambling for his own quiver and bow, another man rolling onto the grass beside him, swearing with a shovel in hand. Anur lunged forward and called half those arrows to him and, with a sweeping gesture, rammed them into the rotting jumbled mess that was surging out of the ground after them, Kir immediately setting the whole thing on fire.

"Die! All the sage! All of it!" Henri, looking rather manic, pulled another entire bushel of sage out of the bags by his quiver and tossed it onto the fire, Markov chanting in archaic Karsite with sparks of pure power at his fingertips.

Between the overpowering scent of sage, bindings made of glowing white power that left streaks in his vision and the fire's yellow-white heat leaving his skin tight and the ground seared, Anur really had no idea what exactly had killed whatever that thing was beyond it probably not being his arrows. Kir liked anchoring flames in them anyway though, and if it hadn't been some strange monstrous rotting cursed thing he might have had more of an impact, so he wasn't going to take that too badly.

The flames and the glowing magecraft had given light though – more than enough to clearly see this Markov fellow the Furies had been so ardently after. Anur –

He barely even noticed that the chittering was gone.

:Easy, easy Anur, sit down it's all right,: Kir was murmuring, catching him by the arm and guiding him to a seat on the ground, an arm around his shoulders as he crouched beside him. :I thought this might be a shock.:

"A shock?" Anur spluttered aloud, waving his hand in the man's – his uncle's – direction, ignoring the man's wince, "That's – he's – "

He had spoken words of archaic Karsite with a mountain town accent and called sparks of mage-crafted power to his hands. He had been cursed by those with enough power to seal anchored spells for decades that called entire swarms of Furies down on him. Markov was a Sunpriest.

His uncle hated Karse.

"So he actually is your kinsman?" Henri asked, but any answer was interrupted.

"You always hated Karse," Anur said blankly.

The man he'd grown up knowing as his uncle, his father's brother in every way that mattered, the man who'd taught him basic hand-to-hand and told the best scary stories and looked at him like Anur had knifed him, like he was a traitor and oathbreaker and worse when he brought Kir home – he looked so heartbreakingly like Kir when his mouth twisted in a bitter smile and said, familiar voice in a familiar jarringly wrong tongue, "Never Karse. Always Sunhame."

"And I am sworn brothers with his father, Anur's known me as his uncle since he was a young boy," he said to Henri, the priest just nodding in response as he continued to pack up his gear and stow away his bow.

The silence held for a long while, the breeze stirring the ashes and leaving some embers to flare momentarily before subsiding again, and Anur felt like he was trying to shove through thick undergrowth in a fog to even think. Aelius felt equally confused and unsure against his mind and Kir's steady presence was quiet and subdued and oddly grieved.

"We've exchanged dates," Kir finally said, "Near as we can figure, Markov left two years before Herald-Captain Alberich was Chosen."

"Spent the time before the Tedrel Wars learning the language, helping the other end of the line, getting my last charges settled. Got used to not shying away at white, grew accustomed to those blasted eyes, and decided to fight, when the Tedrels were hired," Marcus said, hands in his pockets and gaze on the stars. "Met your father in the Wars – you know the latter part of that story."

Anur did know the story from there, had grown up hearing laughing tales of the man with no surname who'd saved their da's life and refused any repayment, so Connor had instead dragged him home and introduced him as a brother. Anur had faint memories of that day, he'd only been five or six years old, but he clearly remembered Marcus' utter shock at being introduced as Marcus Bellamy, their uncle.

It seemed dragging Sunpriests home as brothers was something of a family tradition.

"You – you always told that story of when the queen had come to your fire and asked about – and Herald Alberich and – you were a Sunpriest, it's a tradition!" he started laughing, Anur couldn't not, this was too much, so many old stories taking on a new tinge of hilarity with this knowledge and Kir barely managed to keep him from toppling over.

"Your da damn near died laughing when he realized he had started a family tradition," Marcus said dryly, hesitating before continuing quietly, "I recognized Kir's Sun-in-Glory the moment I saw it, but thought he'd been one of the children fled, raised in the Faith maybe but not – I fought Firestarters for so long, nephew. He was the face of my enemy."

"And he wasn't wrong," Kir reminded him, voice quiet.

"No – I – no!" Anur stumbled over that denial, unsure just what he was denying but looking up and meeting Kir's gaze stubbornly, "You were never the enemy, Kir, how often did you look the other way? Did you let your gaze linger pointedly when you rode through town but never said a word, hoping they'd disappear? You tried, damn it all and you are not going to deny that!"

"I didn't do enough," Kir said, voice bleak and Anur recognized that shamed guilt in his eyes because he'd seen it so very often in Jaina's eyes, in Seras' gaze – he'd seen the other end of that, when Kir agonized over the precedent he was setting for his Firestarters, the unreasonable standard he was setting them up to measure against.

"You tried," Anur snarled, hand tight around Kir's and he didn't look to Marcus, he couldn't. If his uncle had said anything to encourage this, had said anything to convince Kir that he hadn't done enough then beloved uncle or no he was going to break the man's nose.

"You tried so fucking hard, Kir and you are not going to minimize that – this is exactly what our Firestarters are dealing with, this is what you worried about – the unrealistic standard. You had no resources! Markov had backing, had confirmation that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't the only one that thought the Fires were wrong, were worth stopping, and of course he was able to save more! He wasn't responsible for finding them in the first place, he wasn't eyed with mistrust by civilians, soldiers and priests alike! The situations weren't comparable at all and don't you dare sell yourself short," Anur hissed the last, pressing his forehead against Kir's, other hand on the back of his brother's neck and he could feel the faint tremors that meant Kir was holding himself together with string, prodka and sheer stubbornness.

"I'll just – go get the horses, then?" Henri said into the silence that followed, packs over his shoulder and unstrung bow in hand, "Give you three time to – figure something out."

"My nephew speaks truly," Markov said as Henri fled; the man hesitated when neither of them responded beyond Kir shuddering and shifting to rest his head on Anur's shoulder, continuing, "Beyond that – I will be honest, it took me many years even in Valdemar to truly believe that Gifts were not a sign of evil witchcraft. I frankly did not care. The Sunpriests had killed my sister and I would see them fail in every way I could manage, even if I allied with demons. There were no noble motives, or at least they were few. It was mostly hate."

"Ending up with a nephew as a Demon Rider must have been quite the shock," Kir said dryly, but didn't move away from Anur.

"Oh I think seeing him ride up in an Enforcer uniform worn like a second skin was definitely worse," Marcus said dryly, taking a sip from a very familiar flask, "Young Henri giving me this makes much more sense now. That poor boy."

Anur couldn't suppress the laugh at that, Kir chuckling and raising his head, saying ruefully, "I don't think he's ever going to agree to the the one watching my back again, it's been – a rough couple of weeks."

"My end too," Anur said, getting to his feet and pulling Kir up, "Don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep since I left."

"I didn't even try," Kir admitted, looking over to Marcus and asking, "Are you good to ride? With the moonlight, I think we can get to the 62nd by dawn, we can find an extra bed for you there."

"I just tapped into a major ley-line for the first time in decades," Marcus said dryly, "I won't be sleeping till dawn at the earliest, it's worse than chava. I thank you for the offer, and I hope I'll get at least some of this story?"

"I do want to know why you're in Karse again," Kir pointed out, nodding thanks to Henri as he took Riva's reins, "We can swap knowledge after sleep."

"Sleep," Henri said longingly, passing reins to Marcus, "That sounds – wonderful."

"Yeah – it really does," Anur agreed.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Even with only arriving at the 62nd a mark or so before dawn, Kir couldn't sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, he could just hear the closing hymns of the dawn service through the walls. It felt very strange, to hear a service and not be presiding, much less attending. Even when in Sunhame he usually ended up presiding over the services within the Firestarting Hall, and only occasionally attended the main Temple services when Solaris was preaching.

It was all a distraction though, because thinking about the service meant thinking about those attending, and while he was honored and privileged to truly know the men he ministered to and trusted them, there was one new arrival that he didn't quite know what to do with.

Marcus Bellamy. He had never thought he'd see the man again, brief worries that Anur was trying to force some doomed-to-fail reconciliation after Nichter's folly aside, and to find him standing in the middle of a Fury swarm, flinching away from fire and speaking of anchored curses and powerful priest-mages now thankfully dead – well. It explained more than it didn't. It explained a lot, actually, but he couldn't help but hear Anur's dazed, bewildered voice.

"You always hated Karse."

Sunlord, but he had never truly considered what Anur had felt with his uncle's very clear rejection of Kir that winter years ago. He had known Anur was upset, had argued with the man to the point of screaming and had taken some time to warm up to him again for the sake of the children, but he had always thought – always assumed, rather, that it was primarily on his behalf. After Anur's explanation regarding the Delilah matter he should have known better, or should have at least thought about what Marcus' rejection might have meant to Anur personally, but he had honestly been so relieved and overwhelmed and just tired it hadn't occurred to him.

Anur was far too good at pasting on a smile and racing away from his problems to solve someone else's. Hells, Anur probably hadn't even realized he was shying away from something, or had at least forgotten it over time.

Markov didn't even realize it. Kir was certain that if any apology resulted from their interactions, Markov would direct it to Kir, as the offended party, and not to Anur, as his defender.

That whole argument hadn't even really been about him, had it?

:You're thinking loud enough I can hear it from here,: Anur mumbled, some of those words apparently said aloud but with his face smashed against Kir's ribs he couldn't clearly hear anything.

"And I thought my shields were good," Kir said aloud ruefully, Anur scoffing and shifting enough that Kir could actually hear his reply.

"Not actual words just – the buzzing is louder. I can tell your mind's busy, which it shouldn't be since we're supposed to be sleeping."

"The service," Kir shrugged helplessly, "I've never really heard one without attending."

"Of course," Anur huffed, rearranging his limbs till he was slightly less contorted, "Now what's actually keeping you awake."

Kir hesitated, but only briefly because this did need to be addressed and right now, while everyone thought they were passed out to catch up with two weeks of poor sleep, was the best and truly only time for it – "Your uncle."

Anur stiffened, and sat up.

Kir moved to sit next to him, pressing their shoulders against each other and not commenting on the bleak expression on Anur's face for the moment, just letting the silence hold. Finally, Anur took a careful breath and said, "He will apologize to you for what he said Kir, I will see to that."

"I'm more concerned with him apologizing to you," Kir rebuked gently, "As you'll recall, it wasn't Marcus' statements that devastated me – but I'm rather certain, now, that they devastated you. I hadn't realized but – you looked up to him quite a bit, didn't you?"

"I was his favorite," Anur said softly, before barking a laugh and swiping at his eyes, saying, "Such a stupid thing – he always made time for me, promised to keep an ear out for me when I was Chosen – told the best scary stories and he taught me to fight – he's the one – he's the only one I ever mentioned Delilah too, on my way to the border and he – he told me that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't know and that – that my tendency to make friends was something to be proud of and then when I brought you home he was so angry – "

"Anur," Kir murmured, pulling the now weeping Herald against his chest and burying his face in his hair, "I'm so sorry, brother, to have never seen how much his anger hurt you."

"He'd always – I'd say the randomest things and he'd just – just nod and say I had good judgment and then he just – spat on it and I – you're my brother, and it was bad enough when I thought it was from the Tedrel Wars, that he'd had some nightmare happen there and it just – biased him forever but he's a Sunpriest!"

"To Valdemar, Karse is a land of storied villains, Sunpriests the most monstrous. To Sunpriests, Firestarters are heralds of death and terror and fire. I will be honest Anur, when I thought Markov your father's brother in blood I couldn't figure out what a Firestarter could have done to him to spark such rage, not with the timing of our nations' conflicts, and finding out he was a Sunpriest – a treacherous Sunpriest at that, one who grew up hating and actively subverting Sunhame's will – it explained far more than it didn't."

"…this does explain why he always asked if Aelius was dragging me into trouble again rather than any other way around," Anur said thoughtfully.

:It also explains that series of very strange conversations on your early visits home where he wondered aloud if giving me off feed would have any detrimental effects on you, subsequently vowing that if anything should happen to you on my watch I had best watch my grain supply,: Aelius mused, both Kir and Anur struck speechless for a few moments at that revelation.

:Wow. I'm… flattered, and deeply disturbed,: Anur sent back, :He really did think you might be a demon, or at least didn't discount it entirely.:

:And from what he said, he managed to endure decades of being under near constant watch by the vrondi without losing his mind,: Kir pointed out, :To be honest brother, from what he said about not believing the Gifted weren't evil – I'd suspect he never really tried to break that mental conditioning until you were Chosen or evidenced Gifts earlier. Before that he just – did what he had to, to survive and spite Sunhame.:

Anur shuddered, and Kir hesitated to continue but did so after a few moments of silence.

:Anur – it sounds like he broke a lifetime of beliefs in the evils of the Gifted and the demonic nature of Companions because he couldn't bear a world where his nephew was wicked. That takes – tremendous strength, and a deep regard. I don't doubt that he loves you.:

:Well he's got one more mental shift to make,: Anur said grimly, :Because if he spits on you and ours again, he's no kinsman of mine.:

***===***pagebreak***===***

He hadn't realized there was a choice to make until he'd made it, Anur mused, taking a sip of the lukewarm spice-cake tea Kir only ever made for him when he was worried. They'd managed to doze until noon but figured they'd be able to last until proper nightfall with those hours to brace themselves on. Briefing the usual conspiracy on what had happened in Valdemar hadn't taken long at all; Lenora was on her way to recovery, mind and body-healers alike ready to tend to her, and the Lord-Marshal had agreed to hold pushy questions until next Midsummer. Anything further on that front wasn't truly important, not to those within Karse.

Which had left the explanation for just what had happened in Karse during those two and change weeks; nothing out of Sunhame so far as they were aware, but Kir had apparently been jumpy enough that Ulrich had given instructions to avoid startling him at all costs and Henri had sworn off ever watching Kir's back on Anur's behalf again. None of that was worth more than a few teasing comments though; it was the Furies, and the one they'd swarmed, that merited the most attention.

Word had apparently spread that the stranger they'd dragged back was a former Sunpriest and Anur's uncle, with the understanding that Anur hadn't known and from what he could read of the overall atmosphere – no one quite knew what to make of Markov. It was telling, that soldiers gave him a wider berth than either Kir or Anur, and that when he was in the room, hands had a tendency to sneak towards blades before catching themselves and settling uneasily on a hip or in a pocket.

So after the basic introductions and explanations had been exchanged, the three of them retreated to the sacristy. The carefully nonchalant offers of assistance cleaning the spotless chapel he overheard being given to Henri had Anur hiding a grin and Kir very carefully avoiding a fond smile. Markov undoubtedly heard it too, if the thoughtful glances their way were any indication.

"So. Uncle," Anur started before the silence could grow strained, "I suppose the first question is whether I should call you uncle at all, and if you would prefer Markov or Marcus."

"And even that prompts questions on my part," the man replied carefully, looking between the two of them, "I planned to make it very clear I spent my exile in Valdemar, as I'm something of a scout for those who would rather return home – if I say that, you calling me uncle will draw unwanted attention, as cursory look into my Karsite family history will make that relation rather impossible. As for the name – I am used to Marcus, but I always thought of myself as Markov."

"Markov then," Kir decided for them both, saying to Anur, :It might be best if I call him something different, given my former interactions with the man.:

:Fair point. And he raises a good one about my calling him uncle, though…:

"I rather think that calling you uncle might help set the stage," Anur focused on making his shrug seem as careless as possible while he readied the knife, "But I think the first matter to deal with is whether I would even care to call you uncle."

Kir winced at that and Markov's expression was ghastly before he ducked his head to hide it, focusing on his tea. Anur refused to waver though because he had that right, and if Markov refused to acknowledge that there was anything in need of resolution between them than he wasn't going to bother claiming the man.

:Good,: Aelius said firmly, :I would not see you knifed by one you trusted again.:

"I suppose I do deserve that," Markov admitted quietly, "Especially with how close you two apparently are."

:I do not need to be close to someone for your opinion to matter!: Anur snarled behind his teeth and Aelius sent a wash of soothing agreement to him.

"I am an Enforcer," Anur said flatly, "Close is irrelevant, Markov, as I am a part of that Order you so despise."

"Not the one I despised!" Markov refuted, eyes narrowing, "You would never be part of something I found despicable, you couldn't."

He couldn't bear a world where his nephew was wicked, Kir had guessed, and Sunlord from the sounds of it Kir was entirely right. But for Markov to have that much faith in him, that much faith in his judgment and still have spat on his brotherhood with Kir - !

Kir suddenly stood, heading for the door to the sacristy and wrenching it open to find Henri mid-knock with Devek Koshiro behind him. All thought of wrenching an apology from Markov was shoved aside and Anur scrambled to his own feet, saying, "Witach's brood?"

"No, thank the Sunlord," Devek said with completely appropriate fervor before focusing on Kir again, "My apologies for interrupting Father Kir, but I think my niece's friend has mindspeech and it's gone – very wrong."

"Gone wrong how?" Kir asked immediately, heading for the cupboards and rifling through them though apparently not having much luck.

"Apparently it started as responses to things no one had said yet, but rather quickly escalated to being unable to sleep because of how loud it was – I showed up during that stage and within a day sleep-deprivation started affecting her so I don't know how much of the screaming hysterics is due to that and how much is due to the witch-power – is there another name for those yet?"

"Talent seems to be the consensus," Anur replied, "Sounds like she's being overwhelmed by everyone else and can't get any peace – powerful Talent then to hear non-Talented so clearly. Mindspeech is seldom a standalone, at least in Valdemar."

"Probably some empathy," Kir agreed, shutting the last door, "If she's picking up on dreams so clearly, those are more muddled thoughts and emotions than something she should be able to pick up on as words and images. How far out from here?"

"Day and a half," Devek said promptly, "The local priest had already started some sort of shielding which seemed to help but he agreed that an expert would be useful."

"On that note, how many know that your expert is a Firestarter?" Markov said carefully, raising his hands at three sharp glances – Kir winced instead. "I am only saying, revolution last winter or no, the first reaction to seeing a Firestarter show up after a child violently starts demonstrating a Talent like that is probably not going to be a relieved welcome and that's with three days to get used to the idea."

"Fair point," Anur said grudgingly, Devek the one to wince this time.

"My parents and sister know that the chaplain for my former unit is a Firestarter, and that I trust him, but I don't know that they know Father Kir's name – or even that when I mentioned an expert I meant him, though I don't know who else they could think I meant, especially since I rode north," he explained and Kir grimaced.

"With how much chaos is probably going around? I doubt they'd really think that through beyond relief, and even if they did, I doubt they'd be able to convince the family of the girl in question that a Firestarter showing up is a good idea."

"But you can help?" Devek asked, his own worry finally showing through, "I honestly had no idea who else to contact and I was coming north anyway for my transfer – I just assumed with you two having mindspeech someone would be able to help her."

"Worst come, Aelius can shield her long enough for us to figure out a way to lock it down," Anur assured him, Kir looking suddenly thoughtful but not saying anything. "Pack for a hard ride then? Come to think of it, don't we need to be heading to Sunhame soon anyway?"

"Within the week," Kir agreed, "Might as well just start that way now – Markov?"

"If I won't slow you down," the other priest agreed, Henri scoffing aloud and Devek grinning wryly.

"That's rather inevitable; I have to provide introductions," the soldier said, "So they can't leave us entirely in the dust. I'll see if I can get a replacement horse from the hostler though, my two are dead tired."

"We'll ride out in a mark at the latest," Kir announced, grabbing Henri by the elbow as he passed and steered the younger man away, the two quickly involved in an intent discussion. Probably on how to contact them if it turned out that more Furies showed up even with that anchor destroyed.

:I'll pack for both of us,: he sent, finally exchanging quick greetings with Devek before heading for their quarters.

:Thank you Anur,: Kir sent back absently, :Pack extra string, will you?: