Ahken Clarel watched as the arrow arced high into the sky, before curving down to smack solidly into the ground, well away from a crudely painted target that blazed an uncomfortable red against the green grass of spring. He sighed, and reloaded.

It had been three days since he'd met with Oren and the rebels, and his head was still spinning. Of all of the insane theories he had thought of to explain the letter, none of them had ever anticipated… them.

To overthrow the Upper District! Senntisten had stood as it was for thousands of years, and Ahken had always assumed that it would be so forever.

Another arrow went flying, and missed. Ahken planted his bow into the ground and leaned on it, trying to get feeling back into his arms. He had never been an archer, and had never expected to be one. In lieu, however, of any sort of work, he figured that he should try to learn, much good it was doing him.

That was the other thing. He had yet to know what they'd be paying him, but they had forbidden him from taking on any other jobs until they… called upon him again. Ahken had chafed at this, until the Librarian had sullenly given him a large bag of gold coins, more than he could expect to make in a month doing anything else, and promised that he would never see its like again unless he did as he was told.

And so, Ahken had gone home considerably richer and with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew that his family, Aherran especially, would question him if he gave the money to them all at once, so he resolved to bring it in little bits at a time, claiming it was from the vaguely worded "permanent job" he had mentioned to his mother what felt like years ago.

As the days passed, and he waited for word from the rebels, his anxiety began to fade, replaced by something he had not felt in quite some time; boredom.

So, he brought the bow, a weapon Aherran had given up on teaching him long ago, beyond the city limits, and practiced.

He was choosing another arrow when he heard a voice behind him.

"Weeeeeell, lookee here! Never thought I'd see yoooouuuuu again!"

Ahken jumped. The arrow thudded to the ground, and he assumed a fighting stance, even though he recognized (with a terrible feeling in his stomach) the voice.

The impling hovered nearby, tiny wings beating relentlessly to keep him off the ground, and unless Ahken was mistaken, was glaring at him.

Years of practiced, honed instinct took over, and Ahken lunged to grab the tiny fairy. It evaded him with remarkable speed, and took position higher than Ahken could hope to reach.

"Well, hallo to ye too," it said, glare intensifying. Ahken glared back up at it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Hittin' up an old friend, I thought," it replied.

"I've known you for days, and I don't really think we're friends," Ahken said.

The impling did a paroxysm of movement that may or may not have been in response to what Ahken just said. "Implinging is a lonely job, ye know," it said. "We take our friends were we can. And do ye know how long implings live? Everythin's old to us."

Ahken had no idea how long implings lived, and wondered if this one knew, either. "So, what do you want?" he asked, relaxing his guard slightly.

"I heard you've answered that letter," the impling said slyly.

Ahken's guard went back up.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid humans," it ranted, not giving Ahken a chance to answer. "Dumb, dumb, dumb. Why would you do that?!"

"How did you know that?" Ahken asked, which was the first of a number of questions lining up in his head.

"How?! How did I notice that there was a storm a couple days ago, eh? How did I notice that there's a war going on? How did I notice there's a big bloody wall right behind you? You didn't even try to hid yourself!"

Ahken frowned. "Nothing I did was illegal. Why would I need to hide?" he asked. And I did try, he thought, insulted.

"Ye're thinking like a…" the impling frowned, and searched for the word. "Have ye got a word in Common that means somethin' like, 'the impling that carries the cow stool?'"

"I think I get the concept," Ahken said.

"Sure, you think you're below suspicion. But, ye know, the demon on the wall won't think like that, or anyone on the other side o' that wall gettin' fat on cream an' salt. They look at you, and they think, 'how is this ugly human gonna make my life inconvenient?'"

"Ugly?"

The impling shook its head, and started a new rant under its breath that had something to do with humans and the brains of starfish. "The point is," it said finally, "ye have to try harder than that if ye're gonna mingle with the most dangerous humans in the city an' live to tell about it."

"Hold on," Ahken said, feeling like somewhere in this conversation he had left behind the most important point. "Why do you care?"

"'Cause," it said, looking somewhat uncomfortable, "you're interestin'. Can't think of the last time I've met someone interestin' in this whole wide world. And, I think you, in particular, have the chance to make it a whole lot more interestin' than it is."

Ahken frowned. "Thanks, I guess-"

The impling vanished in a puff of smoke.

Ahken stared at the space where it had been, and sighed, running his hands through his hair. Stooping down to pick up the arrow and begin practice once again, he pondered the impling's words. Interesting. Well, he wasn't sure he wanted to be interesting. As he lined up a new shot, he thought that he would rather enjoy having a dull life.

The arrow loosed, and landed solidly right on the outer red circle on his impromptu target.

But, he thought, he supposed that had gone out the window the second he started taking advice from an impling about how best to deal with his new found career as a rebel.

He sighed again, and went to retrieve the arrows. It was a long walk back.

…

"You have a new letter," his mother called to him as he walked through the front door. She was cooking something, judging by the flame-heat that wafted through the house.

"Really?" Ahken asked.

"Yeah. It's the same kind as before. It's here in the kitchen."

Ahken felt an icy stab of fear at the same time as a kindling of anticipation. "Thanks," he said. "Where's Aherran?" he asked, to make conversation.

"Oh," his mother said as he entered the kitchen. "She went hunting. She should be back before too long. How did your day go?"

Ahken was hoping she wouldn't ask that. "Nothing special."

His mother, hunched over the fire, raised her head to look at him with a yeah, right expression on her face as Ahken made towards the letter, which sat primly on the counter. As she said, it was nearly identical to the one he had gotten before.

He turned it over in his hands as he thought to himself. The last time, he had been inducted and sent home, but this time would be different. What if they asked him to hurt someone, or kill them? He supposed it was part of a violent effort, but the thought that by the end of the week he could have blood on his hands made him slightly ill. Perhaps this wasn't the business for him.

"Ahken?"

"Huh?"

His mother smiled indulgently. "I said, did you make any money?"

He frowned at this return to the real world, but shook the fog off and nodded. "Not a lot," he admitted. "More than usual, though."

"Is… something wrong?" Her voice had changed, sounding concerned.

"Oh, no," he said, and forced a smile. "Just tired, is all."

"Maybe you should get some rest."

Ahken tried to avoid her gaze. "Yeah, I guess."

Her gaze followed him all the way to his room. He couldn't help but sweat under it. He had always been a terrible liar.

Finally, he closed the door, letter in hand, and sat down on the bed.

He opened the aged envelope, and was surprised to find that, this time, the paper was just as weathered. The writing was cramped, hurried, and quite short. Ahken hesitated for a moment before removing the paper and unfolding it.

Ahken-

Come tomorrow. We have a task for you. Bring a weapon.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. With some embarrassment, he noticed that his hands were trembling. He looked over the letter again, searching for something he'd missed, but that seemed to be all.

He stared at the ceiling as fear crept into him once again. Bring a weapon. That couldn't be good. There was only one use for weapons.

Perhaps he should take his mother's advice, after all. It was still mid-afternoon, but it wasn't like he had anywhere to be. He shut his eyes, and waited for sleep to take him.

…

"Hey, you."

Ahken opened his eyes. Aherran stood at his doorway, with a tired smile on her face. She was leaning on a hunting bow from the practicing place.

She noticed Ahken staring at it. "Yeah, this thing. It's not the best, but someone took our only bow. I had to put Eldran in a headlock before he would give me this." She caught his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, that was an exaggeration."

Even though her tone when talking about the bow had been teasing more than anything, he still felt shame. "Sorry," he said.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It was about time Eldran had the fear of the gods in him again." The smile slipped from her face. "I heard you weren't feeling well."

Ahken felt guilt about that, too. He wished he could just tell them both, but that was not a good idea, at least not yet. Instead, he reflected, he just moped around and worried them both. "I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry about me."

"Well, if I didn't worry about you, then I'd have to worry about myself, and that would be counterproductive," Aherran said as she came to sit on his bedside as she had when he was younger. The smile was back, as well as the teasing.

Ahken sat up, and returned it. "Yeah," he said. "It's just-" all of a sudden, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell her something, anything. Maybe it wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't bear it all for much longer. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said.

"What if you had a job," he said. "And- it wasn't something you could talk about."

"Dangerous?" Aherran asked, in a softer tone.

"Well… yeah. Sort of. Not- fighting, or killing-" I hope. "-just something that is a little more… intense than delivering messages, or midwifing cows. And you want to tell someone, but you… don't want them to know."

Aherran was silent for a moment. "I think I know what you mean better than you think," she admitted quietly, with a voice more burdened than Ahken was used to. Her hand went to his chest unconsciously, a motion she usually saved for when he had a particularly bad cough. "Ahken…" she began. "If this really isn't something you feel like you can tell me, I won't push you. Just, keep yourself safe, and know that whatever it is you're doing, I won't think any less of you for doing it." She smiled down at him, and then thumped him on the chest and rose to her feet. "Well," she said. "I should get to bed. You should get some more sleep, if you feel like it, unless you feel like waiting out the Monitors."

"Thank you, Aherran," he whispered as she moved to the door. She turned around, smiled, and left the room.

Ahken shifted onto his side. Much as he appreciated her advice, he felt as though his anxiety had not been reduced so much as re-disturbed, his thoughts and fears fluttering about like startled birds.

He sighed, and closed his eyes again. There's nothing I can do, he told himself. If I don't do this, we'll starve, as likely as not. It was a long time before sleep stole over him, and when it did it was anything but restful.

Eh, this is a shorter chapter and not a whole lot happens in it, but this is mainly intended as a bridge between the last Ahken chapter and the next, where stuff starts happening for real. Although it's not a total waste; something in here will become rather important later on.

Either way, the wait was shorter for this one, so, fie on't! Fie!