The Earth Cave, Twenty-five Years Ago

When the fighting settled down - the last of those… those creatures... beaten back - Redden stood, breathing heavily, waiting for the thudding of his heart to calm. His eyes came to rest on a body on the cave floor, a withered thing, all papery skin over bones, that only vaguely resembled a man. It hadn't acted like one. Redden kicked at it, but it didn't move again, a lifeless husk that had been powered entirely by evil magic, its magic now spent.

The sound of his own pulse in his ears quieted and he became aware once more of the voices of his companions. Some of these men had fought beside him when Bram placed the first seal, but others had not. It was to these that Father Bram spoke. "Crush the heads!" he was saying, bringing his hammer down with surprising violence for a white mage, particularly one of his years. The blow landed with a crunch that echoed in the still air of the cave. "They can't rise again without heads!"

"What about…" Argus said, struggling to regain his composure. "What about them?" He gestured toward a pair of bodies, not of the creatures they had been fighting, but of their own companions, men who had journeyed there with them only to die.

Bram sighed as he looked at the bloody figures. "Them too. If we don't-" The old man stopped speaking as a deep-chested cough took hold of him.

Redden went to him, casting Cure. "Lean against the wall," he said.

Bram did so, wheezing as the cough faded.

Redden stood by the old man, listening to Father Bram's uneven breathing as he watched the others deal with the bodies. "Are we deep enough?" he asked.

Bram shook his head. "Not much farther, but farther still. There's a… a wrongness there - do you feel it? - and that is where the seal must go."

Redden nodded. He did feel something, but he hadn't been sure it wasn't his own anxiety. The old white mage, who had seemed so solid, so strong, on their first trip together almost three months ago, seemed now to be struggling. The winter had been hard, and food had been scarce. Though it was only a month until spring, the cold had not let up. It had been raining when they left - only a drizzle, but near freezing - and the day's march from Melmond to the cave had taken its toll on the old man. Redden watched him, listening to each rattling breath, worried that at any time the elderly priest might not breathe in again. Don't think like that, he told himself. "Rest there, Father. I'll get the men ready to move on."

Bram nodded.

Redden found Cid speaking to a young man who had sunk to his knees over a fallen soldier. "Up," Cid was saying. "Up now. If we don't finish this, he died for nothing."

The young man shook his head, his eyes wide and staring.

"See to the others," Redden said, motioning Cid away as he knelt beside the young man, a blond boy from one of the high houses. "It's Arthur, isn't it?" he asked.

The boy nodded, still focused on the body in front of them, an older man with the sigil of Lord Leiden on his shoulder. Perhaps he had been this boy's guard. At fifteen, Arthur Leiden was really too young to have come along on such a dangerous trip, but the Leidens had a twisted sense of duty and pride.

Redden appealed to that pride. "We need to move on, Arthur. We've nearly finished this thing. You wouldn't have us stop with the job unfinished, would you?" He squeezed the boy's shoulder, and the boy looked up from the gruesome corpse at last, his gaze fixing on Redden's face.

"I don't want to die here," he said.

"You're not going to die here," Redden said. "I'll protect you."

"What good can that do against creatures like this? What good are you?" the boy said.

The doubt stung. The hopelessness in that voice stung. He looked the boy in the eye, and when he spoke it was as if the words came from somewhere else. "I'm a son of Titan. And I'm going to stop this evil."

The boy stared at him, still seeming uncertain, but in that moment, Redden had never been more certain of anything in his life.

"Brother!" Cid called. "Come and look at this."

Redden stood, holding a hand out to help the boy up, and the young Leiden followed him without comment, lip quivering but jaw set.

Melmond Harbor District, Present Day

Thad came to a blue warehouse on a deserted street that he was certain he recognized - how many blue warehouses could there be in this city? - but when he turned the corner that he thought for sure would take him back to the docks, he found only more warehouses. He knew the harbor was nearby - he could smell it - but this was the fourth time he'd taken a wrong turn.

I guess it'll be the fourth time I have to ask for directions, he thought.

"I believe you wanted to turn left at that last interchange, young master Shipman."

He spun about, surprised that his hand flew to his sword even though he recognized Orin's voice. "Jeez! You about scared my socks off!" he said.

The old monk smiled, nodding toward Thad's swordhand. "Ah! I am pleased to see your first instinct was to reach for your weapon! This is progress."

Thad frowned, sticking his hands in his pockets as he couldn't think what else to do with them. "Have you been following me all this time?"

Orin nodded, smiling his wrinkled smile. "With only a little detour. This is how I know you have done well today. It is also how I know you have no sense of direction."

"It's a strange city!" Thad said, indignant. "None of the streets are straight, and some of them change names halfway down, and - do you know? - when you think you can find your way around by using a yellow shop as a landmark, you find three more yellow shops! Yellow, Orin! What kind of city has yellow shops in it?"

"Hmm, these are valid points. I will concede that perhaps I judged unfairly." He turned, walking back up the street. "Come. The smuggler we follow entered a warehouse not far from here. If we are swift, we may find a place from which to listen to his dealings and learn more of his plans."

Thad hurried after him, scuttling sideways so as to look at the old man as they walked. "Who, Bayard? You mean to say you were tracking me and Bayard at the same time? How?"

"By coincidence, you were walking in much the same direction. When you were not becoming lost." His smile was wide, but Thad thought his eyes became sad. "Tell me, did you discover anything on your adventure?"

"You bet I did!" Thad said, eager to show the old man how well he had done, that his lessons on the art of spying had not been wasted. "I know where the potions are! Or, I sort of do! I'm almost certain I could find my way back there! Bayard said he was going back there tonight, and I heard him talking with a thin man about sahagins - and white mages! - and there was more about that magic attack in the street! It was dark magic!"

Orin nodded, but said nothing, looking up at the buildings they passed as though checking for an unlikely attack from the roofs.

Thad looked up too, but stopped when he almost tripped. He kept quiet, but when Orin only continued watching the rooftops, he asked, "So what comes next? Do we just listen to Bayard or do we try to capture him? Oh! I know! We should go see if Kane's back on the ship! He could help us!"

The monk shook his head. "I am afraid that our outing today may have attracted undue attention. I would not draw that attention back on our only means of escape from this city."

Thad grimaced, remembering how close the thin man had come to noticing him. There was no way Orin could know about that, was there? But then, the monk had managed to track two people at once through the busy city; Thad could only guess what the old man knew. Shuffling his feet, he said, "I don't think anyone got a good look at me."

"It is nothing you did, young master Shipman. It was myself. I behaved hastily." Orin stopped there in the middle of the street and he sighed a deep sigh. If Thad hadn't known the monk better he would have said that the long walk through Melmond had exhausted his old bones. It was only a moment, and then he walked on. "Until I know the extent of this threat, we cannot return to the ship."

It wasn't a dining hall, more of a parlor, a wide space with high ceilings that made Jack feel tiny. Though the tall windows were open to admit a breeze, the room was crowded and stuffy, holding far more than the dozen guests Ruby had anticipated. Lord Redden was there, as were Harvey and his father, but scattered across several small seating areas or standing in groups of two or three, there were also stately-looking old men with severe-looking wives, a few younger men in expertly tailored clothes, a pair of young ladies whose brightly colored dresses - one yellow, the other purple - rivaled Seward's house in the Blue Quarter, and a number of servants offering trays of food and drink. A party, rather than a dinner. Not that Jack found that any better.

The young men greeted Quincey, who grudgingly joined them, while Ruby waved at the girls. "Oh, Lena! Come and meet the Hornwood sisters!" she said, pulling Lena away.

Don't go, Jack thought. Don't leave me with these people. But she was gone before he could force the words loose. He felt sick: his empty stomach and his clanging nerves made him feel dizzy, like his head might pop off and float away. He wondered if anyone would notice if he backed out the door and… and what? Fled the manor altogether? Tempting, he thought.

He nearly gave in to the temptation when he noticed one of the old men staring at him. He was an altogether unremarkable man, of average height and average build, except that his ears stood out from his head rather comically. He was heading Jack's way. Jack took a step back and would have kept going if not for the firm hand on his shoulder.

"Easy there, brother," Kane said, holding him in place.

Jack realized then that it was Kane the man was heading toward. The man inclined his head in an almost-bow when he reached them, speaking in a nasally whine. "Young master Carmine, it's good to see you again."

"Master Rook, wasn't it?" said Kane, relinquishing his hold on Jack's shoulder as he extended a hand for the man to shake. "The undersecretary?"

"Hmm, one of them, yes," the man said. "You've a good memory. I believe we only met once during my stay in Cornelia." His smile was stiff and empty, a polite face spewing niceties he didn't mean.

"Allow me to introduce my brother," Kane said.

Jack held out a hand as Kane had done.

"Yes," said Rook, glancing at Jack's hand without taking it. "Your father mentioned him. Some sort of scholar, wasn't it?"

Jack nodded.

"Hmm, well, it's good that you've found something useful to do with yourself. Excuse me." He turned and walked away with his nose in the air.

Kane raised an eyebrow. "What do you suppose crawled up his trousers?"

"I've no idea," Jack said.

"We haven't much use for bastards here," said a quiet, cultured voice.

They both turned to the figure who had approached them from the side, a pale man, dressed all in black, with black hair that came down in a peak in the middle of his forehead.

Kane frowned. "What did you say?"

The man bowed. "Forgive me. I mean no offense. I was only trying to answer your question. Leiden's made no secret of master Jack's circumstances." He straightened as a servant approached with a tray but shook his head at the offered food. Jack looked hungrily at it, aware of an uncomfortable gnawing in his belly, but he too waved the servant away. The man continued, "I'm afraid the laws of succession among Melmond's high families are rather severe. It has led to - again, forgive me - bastards such as yourself having rather a questionable reputation. Personally, I prefer to form my own opinions." He extended his hand to Jack. "Vince Pollendina, secretary to his lordship."

Jack shook the hand, then stepped aside as Kane reached out to do so. "A pleasure," said Kane.

"No, I rather suspect it isn't," said the secretary, looking about as though to be sure no one else was listening. "You're little more than hostages, I understand."

Jack turned to Kane. The guardsman looked as stunned as Jack felt, but then he quickly smoothed his expression into the same polite mask that Rook had been wearing. "Are you always this blunt, sir?"

"I simply cannot abide untruth," said the secretary. He leaned in, whispering. "And the truth is this: his lordship has a bit of a grudge against your father, I'm afraid. He has no reason to make your stay a comfortable one. Tread carefully." He bowed once more, then turned and walked toward the empty hearth, where two of the well-dressed older men stood conversing. Over his shoulder, he called, "Do tell me if there is anything you need during your visit."

Kane's smile held, but his eyes glinted as they did when he and Jack practiced swordplay and Jack was about to lose. "Come on," he said.

"Where?"

"To mingle. Like well-behaved guests."

"No, I think I'd rather-" Jack began, but Kane didn't let him finish.

"I didn't ask what you'd rather," said the guardsman, gripping his shoulder once again and propelling him forward, toward the place where Harvey stood with Quincey and the other young men.

Jack sighed. It was probably too late to flee.

Kane was disgruntled about something. Lena felt it as he went swiftly by, driving Jack ahead of him. She turned her head to watch them go, and was surprised at the guardsman's serene expression: in contrast to what Lena knew he was feeling, his smile said he found the party delightful. Lena found he was only one among many whose emotions didn't match their faces. The party was full of people wishing they were elsewhere, Lena included.

She sat beside Ruby on a stuffed couch, sinking down into cushions that would have been comfortable in other circumstances but which, at the moment, seemed more imprisoning than anything, impossible to escape from with either speed or grace. Across from them, on a similar couch, sat the two Hornwood sisters, a pair of dark haired girls in bright, form-fitting dresses. Lena turned back to them at the sound of Ruby's laughter.

"And then!" said Nicole Hornwood, red-faced with laughter herself, gesturing wildly with her empty wineglass as she spoke. "She challenged him to a duel! Right there in the library!"

"You didn't!" Ruby said, turning wide, mirthful eyes on Nicole's sister, Beatrix.

Beatrix sighed. "I did," she said, quiet and matter-of-fact. "And I won, too." Older than Nicole, tall and slender as an elf, she sat in a relaxed slouch, her elbow on the arm of the sofa, propping up her chin with one hand. In her other hand, her own wineglass was nearly full. She was beyond bored, her smile a long-suffering one, as though this wasn't the first time she had sat through Nicole's exaggerated version of events.

Ruby giggled. "But that's the third suitor you've turned away this season! What did your father say?"

"He found the whole thing entertaining!" said Nicole, before her more reserved sister could answer. "He knew that boy only wanted the title! He said… what was it he said, Bea?" Beatrix opened her mouth, but Nicole went on, speaking in a low, gruff voice as she imitated their father. "'How do you expect to be Lord of the Hornwood if you let yourself get beat up by some chit of a girl?'" She laughed again, too loudly to be ladylike.

Lena felt a twinge of embarrassment from Beatrix, a grating sensation that made Lena shift in her seat. She tried instead to focus on Ruby, who seemed to enjoy the boisterous girl's company and was having a wonderful time, but the emotions of the room echoed around Lena like a dozen people trying to converse with her at once. It made it difficult to keep up with the conversation in front of her. "I'm not sure I understand," she said, speaking to Beatrix. "Isn't it your title? I thought Ruby said you were the heir?"

Beatrix cut her a glare that sparked with indignation.

"Lady heir," said Ruby.

"Oh, darling!" said Nicole with a giggle, amused at Lena's ignorance. "This isn't Cornelia. The title passes to a male, as Titan intended."

A servant passed close by with a tray full of drinks in squat stemmed glasses, and Nicole signaled him over, placing her own empty glass on his tray as she took another. Beatrix rolled her eyes at her sister, but said nothing. The servant held the tray out for Lena, and she grabbed a glass herself; alcohol did nothing to block out the emotions of others, but in Lena's experience, a glass or two made it easier not to care.

When the servant moved on, Ruby leaned close and said, "Women can't hold titles. Here in Melmond, if a lord has no sons, his eldest daughter is named lady heir. Whoever marries her takes her name and the title until their first child is born."

"Whatever for?" said Lena. It seemed ridiculous, really. She'd known many women with titles: some of the high priests at White Hall were women, as was the mayor of Pravoka, and Princess Sarah would be queen when her father died whether she was married or not. Lena tried to imagine someone telling her aunt Clara that women couldn't hold titles. The conversation would not go well.

"That is an excellent question," Beatrix murmured, still glaring, but not at Lena, just generally.

"It keeps the title in the high families, you see. Each of the high families can be traced back to the founders themselves," said Nicole, beaming with pride. "Straight line of succession, yes? None of this mucking about with second sons and distant cousins and bastards and so on, like they do in other parts of the world."

"Nicole," said Beatrix, a warning in her tone.

Nicole ignored her, barrelling on with a drunken disregard for propriety. "How is it going to work when you marry the Carmine bastard? Will he take your name?"

Beatrix muttered something, covering her face with one hand. Ruby gasped. But Lena found it hard to be offended when she could feel the candid curiosity behind Nicole's question. There was no malice in it. The problem, of course, was that the betrothal was a lie. Lena sipped her wine as she tried to think up a response that would neither contradict the ruse nor violate her Oath. She settled for, "I can honestly say I hadn't given the matter any thought."

"Really?" said Ruby, immediately snapping her mouth shut, embarrassed by the unguarded outburst.

"Aren't you worried about your family's reputation?" said Nicole as the muttering Beatrix took a long swig of her own drink.

"No, not so much," Lena said. "I mean, I'm not a noble."

"You're not?" Ruby asked, cocking her head.

Lena sighed. "I thought you knew. I'm… well, technically... I'm only a servant. In the plainest sense of the word."

There was silence, a little bubble of silence. The noises of the party seemed suddenly far off across town. Ruby and Nicole stared at her, and just then Lena couldn't feel anything from them. It was as if neither of them could decide what they thought of her announcement and their minds had come to an utter standstill while they considered their options.

Beatrix, though, reacted immediately. The older Hornwood took one look at her sister's shocked face and made a strangled noise as she tried not to laugh. She took a drink to cover it, downing the rest of her wine in a single gulp, and smiled a real smile for the first time Lena had seen. Lena could feel her amusement, a warm, rumbling sensation like the purr of a giant kitten, a sense of relief that finally something interesting had come along.

Kane loosened his grip on Jack's shoulder when he felt him wince. The mage had tried to veer away once but seemed resigned now to go where Kane pushed him. That man had set him off, but he knew it was unfair to take it out on Jack. He might give his father an earful later, but Jack was blameless in this. "Sorry," he muttered. The mage only nodded, as though nothing Kane did to him could possibly make this situation any worse. He had that hunted look about him that he got sometimes, a pinched expression to his eyes that said he expected things to go wrong. Kane tried to offer words of comfort. "Look, I know you don't like people, but I've been to parties like this one all my life. I promise you: that thing with Rook back there, that's as bad as it gets."

Jack threw a sidelong glower at him, plainly dubious.

They crossed the room to where Harvey stood with Sergeant Quincey and two other men who seemed not much older. Harvey smiled a greeting, holding a plate in one hand and a skewer of meat and vegetables in the other. "There you both are! Kane, Jack, this is Logan and Victor Quincey of the Reach." He gestured with the skewer, indicating who was who. "Gabriel's brothers. They run the land between the Hornwood and the West Hills."

The willow-thin Victor smiled, shaking hands with both of them. Logan, solemn of face, ignored Jack much as Rook had done, speaking only to Kane. "Well, our father runs things. Victor and I simply keep out of the way."

Kane turned to Victor, determined to ignore Logan in turn. "Gabriel's brothers?" he said, putting rather more emphasis on the sergeant's given name than was necessary, taking pleasure in the glare it earned him from the man. The two looked like their brother, both with the same tawny brown hair and angular nose, but Victor was slim where Logan was built like the sergeant. "Tell me, has Gabriel always been so jaded?"

Victor barked out a laugh, playfully elbowing the sergeant in the ribs. "Oh! He has your measure, right enough!" He held a drink in one hand, and a slight slurring to his words suggested it wasn't his first. To Kane he said, "If you think he's bad, you should meet our elder brother. Can't go two minutes without letting you know he's the next lord of the Reach."

"Victor," the sergeant said, reproachfully. "I'm sure we can't begin to imagine how much pressure he's under."

Logan nodded. "Father was younger than Hugh is now when he became lord."

"That's no excuse!" Victor went on, waving his hand as he spoke so that a bit of his drink splashed out of his cup and onto the floor. "Harvey's set to rule the rule over the whole state, and he doesn't act that way!"

"That's because Harvey doesn't take his duties seriously," Quincey snapped.

Kane raised an eyebrow. From the way Ruby had acted around Quincey, Kane could tell he was a family friend, but the sergeant's tone suggested his connection to the Leidens, and to Harvey in particular, ran deeper than Kane had suspected. Kane would never have spoken to Sarah like that.

Victor laughed again, and Harvey laughed with him, not seeming at all offended. "Guilty," the young Leiden said. "Though in my defense, it's not as if father leaves me anything to do. He has the whole affair rather buttoned up."

"If you'd taken over some of the undersecretaries' duties like I'd advised you to-" Quincey began.

"Oh, don't start that again," Harvey said, rolling his eyes. "It's a party, Gabriel. Try to lighten up."

At the mention of undersecretaries, Kane exchanged glances with Jack.

Harvey smiled. "I saw that. What was that look for?"

"We ran into master Rook a moment ago," Kane said, working to keep his expression neutral. The undersecretary's behavior toward Jack had bothered him, but Rook wasn't entirely to blame for Kane's foul mood. That honor seemed fairly evenly split between his father, who had apparently kept Kane in the dark about a great many important things, and Lord Leiden, who clearly had an agenda of his own.

Victor laughed, spilling more drink so that very little remained in his glass. "Oh, gods! I take it he was his usual cheerful self?"

"It's best to ignore Rook," Harvey said. "He can be a right pillock sometimes. I never have liked the man."

"You're not required to like him," said Logan. "But you should at least respect him. He performs his duties admirably. Duties which - Gabriel's right - you should have learned by now."

"Not you, too!" Harvey said. "I only keep you around to disagree with him."

"Master Rook was instrumental in helping us investigate the Cathedral after the night plague," said the sergeant, his voice a low rumble.

"The Cathedral?" said Jack, startling Kane. The last thing he had expected was to hear the mage speak in such company. "You investigated that? What happened there?"

Kane knew what he was really asking, for he wanted to know the answer himself: What happened to the white mages? The sergeant seemed uneasy with the question, looking down at his feet. Logan said nothing, still refusing to acknowledge that Jack was there.

Victor scoffed, swaying drunkenly. "Those mages got what was coming to them, if you ask me. Everyone knows they're to blame for what's happening."

It was only by the barest margin that Kane held his tongue, fruitlessly hoping Jack would hold his own. The black mage said, "Excuse me?" His voice was as quiet and composed as Kane had ever heard it, but Kane knew the mage's moods by now, and to him those two simple words sounded dangerous.

Victor kept talking, oblivious to his audience. "Everyone's saying it. They carry that plague, you know. That's where the Rot comes from. It's all white mages."

Kane held his breath, wondering how Jack would respond. Would he lose his temper again? Would he lose his hold on the aether? The mage still wore Lord Redden's sword, and Kane could see his hand closing around the hilt. He was either struggling for control, or planning to run Victor through with the blade. Jack's eyes remained expressionless.

It was the sergeant who spoke next. "I'll not hear one word spoken against white mages," he said, his voice a quiet whisper on par with Jack's as he stared at his brother. "Not. One. Word."

"Suit yourself." Victor shrugged, raising his glass to his lips, seeming surprised to find it empty. He looked about the room, his gaze settling on a servant with a tray of drinks several paces away, and wandered off in that direction, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

Harvey cleared his throat. "Well, that was… Anyway…" He shook his head, as though to free himself of the awkward moment, then, his hands still full between his plate and the half-eaten skewer of food, he elbowed Kane lightly on the arm. "You two haven't eaten yet! Come and make yourselves a plate."

Kane nodded, knowing the others had dropped the matter. It was what you did at these parties. Bahamut knew he'd been to enough of them, growing up in the castle. He followed Harvey toward a small side table against one wall that held an assortment of dishes, and Logan walked with him. "Harvey tells me you're in the Cornelian guard corps?"

"Yes, that's right," Kane said, finding himself unable to continue ignoring the man if he was going to speak to Kane directly. They were across the room before he realized Jack hadn't followed him.

Jack watched them go, sighing to find himself alone, until the sound of a clearing throat reminded him he wasn't. He turned to face Sergeant Quincey, the one person in the room he didn't want to be alone with. The sergeant was watching him, perhaps waiting for him to say something, but all he said was, "Sergeant."

"Carmine," said Quincey. "First time in Melmond?"

"No," said Jack, in case the sergeant was testing him. Though the scarf caused less comment in public than his scars would have, it wasn't exactly common for a man to go about with his face covered all the time; as many weeks as Jack had spent in this city, it wouldn't be hard for Quincey to have found someone who remembered seeing him in the spring. "There's a Leifenish scholar here I've visited before."

Quincey nodded. They lapsed into silence, both of them looking out at the activity in the room. Kane let Logan steer him off toward some lord and his wife. Redden stood with Leiden, looking miserable as he spoke with Rook and two men. Near one of the windows, Lena sat on a couch with Ruby and the other girls. Her back was to him, but he heard her laugh. No one approached Jack or the sergeant, not even the servants with their trays, though he could see people glancing at him as they whispered behind their hands. Perhaps being a "bastard" isn't all that bad, he thought. If it means I don't have to talk to anyone…

He nearly swallowed his own tongue when Quincey said, "What happened on Farplane Avenue?"

"Pardon?" said Jack, thinking, He knows. He knows. Gods, he knows.

"I was tracking you through the city this morning. You didn't see me. I lost sight of you after that magical attack. I imagine you Cornelians are used to to this sort of thing, but it was the first time we've seen anything like that outside the lower town."

Didn't see…? He thinks we didn't see him? Jack couldn't seem to make sense of what Quincey was saying, so overwhelmed was he with relief that he wasn't caught after all. He tried to feign ignorance. "You… you were… following us?" Gods, why won't my mouth work?

Quincey nodded again. "Until everyone started running from the disturbance. Did you see anything?" He sounded desperate.

Jack's heart hammered in his ears. "N-no," he said at last. "No, I'm sorry."

"Confound it," Quincey muttered. "Dark mages attacking in broad daylight and no one saw anything. Clyne says they interviewed half the business district while I was stuck here with you."

"H-how-" Jack said, pausing to get a grip on his sudden stutter. "How do you know it was a dark mage?"

"I've felt their spells before. Leiden told you about the Brotherhood? I'm part of the investigation team." He sighed. "Or, I was, until he set me to babysitting you."

Great, thought Jack bitterly. Any number of guards Leiden could have set to spy on us, and we get the one who knows about dark mages. That's… just great. Out loud, he said, "Isn't the investigation more important than watching a pair of Cornelians? Couldn't someone else watch us?"

The sergeant blushed at that. He actually blushed. "No one else is the lowest ranking officer of noble birth. How would Melmond look if Cornelia heard we'd kept the sons of their third council lord under guard?"

"So… officially you're not supposed to be watching us? You're meant to play at being our friend?"

Quincey nodded. "Until you give me reason to do otherwise."

Across the room, Victor shouted, "Gabriel! Come and settle a debate!"

"Excuse me," said Quincey, brushing past Jack.

He watched Quincey stalk off past the couch where Lena sat in that black dress, her unruly curls coming loose from the hairpins. She laughed again, a high, clear sound, bright and beautiful. Jack let out a sigh of relief. At least one of them was faring well in this crowd.

Lena thought of swimming as the emotions of the party crowd pressed in. She thought of fish, and the ocean, and long walks in the rain, determined to keep a smile plastered to her face if it killed her. Her laugh sounded fake in her ears.

Ruby's smile likewise seemed painted on; her embarrassment burned hot and thick, and Lena had to struggle to stay where she was rather than move as far from that heat as the couch would allow. She's just learned she spent her day befriending a servant, Lena thought. I suppose it's hard for her.

It had not been hard for Beatrix Hornwood. Her smile was warm and genuine. You're like me, it said. Someone who doesn't fit. She'd spent the past several minutes telling Lena how her father had taught her math by having her review the accounts from their lumber yard. "I was six when the sword lessons started. I think he'd finally given up hope of ever having a son."

Nicole rolled her eyes at her sister. The younger Hornwood had gone quiet, and Lena could tell she was offended at her presence there. Or, she had been. By now Nicole's emotions were a fuzzy blur as she worked her way through yet another drink.

Lena sipped at her own wine. "It just seems strange to me that you can't inherit the title, even after your father taught you everything about running your estate. I can understand how frustrating that must be."

"It bothers me more at these parties. I'm supposed to show off for potential suitors," Beatrix said, absent-mindedly picking at where her violet dress fit her too loosely in the bust. It's not hers! Lena realized, looking between her and Nicole, whose yellow dress, Lena noticed now, was cut in an almost identical style. It was not the style of a woman who spent most of her time training at swords and tramping through the Hornwood forests west of the city. Beatrix brightened, her smile growing mischievous. "What I really need is to marry a large, muscular idiot so I can run things in all but name."

Nicole nodded. "Mother says that was how the Westens planned to do it."

"Oh! I heard about that!" said Ruby, interest overcoming her embarrassment. She turned to Lena and said, "Lady Westen was betrothed to Lord Carmine's brother! He died before the wedding!"

"Carmine! I hadn't thought about him!" said Beatrix, craning her head around to look toward the spot where Kane stood with Harvey and another young man. "Is Kane spoken for?"

Lena blushed. "Well, I, um, I wouldn't say he's an idiot."

"No, of course you wouldn't. Not if he's to be your brother." Beatrix laughed. "So how did you and master Jack meet? I'm sure that's a lovely story."

"Um…" Lena said, caught off guard by the excited anticipation she felt from both Ruby and Nicole. It would seem the two were both hopeless romantics. "There's not much to tell. We, um…" She opted for the truth, if a truncated version of it. "We sort of ran into each other in the market square. We've mostly been together ever since." Praying to Leviathan that the other girls wouldn't ask questions, she sought for a way to change the subject, then, in a flash of inspiration, said, "He bought me a mask when we arrived this morning. A festival mask?"

"That's so sweet!" said Ruby, folding her hands over her heart. "We'll have to take you to the plays so you can wear it!"

"I'm afraid neither of us know much about the Midsummer festival. Perhaps you could tell me more?"

"Of course we could!" said Ruby, her earlier embarrassment all but gone now. "What would you like to know?"

Lena smiled. Perhaps this party wouldn't kill her after all.

For probably the fifth time, Kane glanced around, but Jack remained alone in the corner where he had left him. Safe enough, Kane thought. He found he was more concerned about Lena. He'd lost track of the number of times he'd flicked his gaze toward her, assuring himself she was still there. Nobody here knew what she was, but Harvey and Logan had quietly explained that Victor's opinion of white mages was a popular one in the city. Kane hadn't been able to work the conversation around to what people might do to a white mage if they found one, but he suspected the prospects were not good.

Only half listening to Harvey go on about some sword fight he had witnessed, Kane handed his empty plate to a passing servant then watched Lena. She seemed to be enjoying herself. One of the girls with her, dark haired and darkly tanned, as if she worshipped the outdoors, threw a smile their way, and Kane wondered if it was for him until Logan chuckled, raising his glass to her.

"What…?" Harvey said, following Logan's gaze, then looked back at Logan through narrowed eyes. "Beatrix Hornwood? Really?"

"Mmm hmm," Logan said into his glass as he drank.

Harvey scoffed. "Didn't she throttle you in the training yard that one time?"

"Yes, she did," Logan said, seeming for all the world to relish the memory. The girl crooked her finger in a "come hither" gesture, smiling wickedly, and Logan's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Excuse me," he said, walking quickly away.

"Idiot," said Harvey.

When Kane looked back, he found his father approaching, wearing a relaxed smile that Kane knew from experience was not as nice as it appeared. He could see Lord Leiden some paces behind, caught up in deep conversation with one of the other lords.

"Ah, Lord Carmine! Are you enjoying the party?" said Harvey.

"Very much," Lord Redden said. He gestured toward a man by the hearth, away from Leiden, not at all in the direction he had come from. "That master Talbot was just showing off his new dagger. Stone Coast steel. A lovely weapon."

Harvey's smile broadened. "Really? That does sound interesting. I think I'll go have a look. Kane?"

"He'll be along," said Redden, resting a hand on Kane's shoulder. "I'd like a word with him first."

Harvey nodded and walked away.

When he was gone, Kane said, "Father, what have you-"

Lord Redden cut him off, speaking quietly. "Hush. We don't have much time before Leiden comes. Listen to me. There are things you don't know."

"That's an understatement!" Kane hissed, shrugging out from under his father's hand. "Why didn't you tell me that the lord of Melmond had it in for you? That would have been useful to know before we got here!"

"I'm sorry about that. I should have told you. I was ashamed."

"You were ashamed? How do you think I feel right now? If anything happens to Lena here, it will be my fault!" He wondered again how he would explain himself to Sarah. He could no longer remember why he'd been so determined for all of them to leave the ship.

"Kane, listen to me, damn it! There's no time." Redden looked over his shoulder. Leiden was still talking with the other man, but he glanced toward Kane and his father, his smile full of teeth and threats. Redden huffed out a breath, pushing his white hair out of his face, and for a moment he looked so beaten that Kane was surprised into silence. Redden reached out for him again, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him in closer, whispering. "Whatever they tell you, whatever you hear, know that I wanted the best for you. These people… they're not on our side, son. They'll bleed you dry if it serves their own ends."

Kane tried to pull away, but his father held firm, expression so serious that it frightened him. Redden didn't loosen his grip until Leiden approached them.

"You see, Redden? Your boys are getting on fine," said Leiden, still smiling.

"This one is," Redden said, gesturing to Kane before looking toward Jack in his corner.

Leiden chuckled. "You can check on the other after you've paid your respects to Lord Ipsen." He nodded toward a man who sat in one of the chairs nearest the table where Kane had got his food.

"I keep telling you this isn't a state visit, Arthur," Redden said, scowling.

Leiden laughed out loud at that. "I don't care what kind of visit you think this is, as long as you're seen by the right people."

Lord Redden hesitated, looking between Leiden and Kane, then turned, muttering under his breath as he left them alone. Leiden smirked at his retreating back.

Not on our side, Kane thought. He considered walking off without speaking to the Melmond lord, no matter how rude it would be, but he could see his father across the room bowing politely to Lord Ipsen and making pleasantries. If that's how we're doing this… he thought. "This is a lovely party, Lord Leiden," he said.

Leiden's eyes narrowed, but his smile remained. "Thank you. Tell me, how do you and your brother find your rooms?"

"Our rooms?" Kane asked, surprised. For some reason, he hadn't expected Leiden's small talk to be quite this small. "They're… they're fine."

"Good, good. I'm glad you find them suitable. Those were your father's rooms when he was young."

"My father's…?" Kane's eyes returned to Lord Redden, who glanced quickly his way before focusing on Lord Ipsen again. Kane turned back to Leiden. He's not on our side, he reminded himself, but he found he couldn't stop himself from saying, "I wasn't aware that he grew up here."

"Of course. He and your uncle were Lord Westen's wards."

Kane frowned. He knew that name. Westen… Jayne Westen… the queen, whose father was the last Lord of Melmond. "Father never mentioned that," he said.

Leiden chuckled again. "Surely he had his reasons." A servant passed by with a tray of pastries, and he grabbed one, eating with apparent relish.

Kane waited, using the lull in conversation to try to make sense of what he'd just heard. Leiden might be lying, but what would be the point? There was nothing to stop Kane from going to his father and asking about it. He said there were things I didn't know… Kane had never had reason to believe his father had been raised among nobility. Lord Redden didn't talk about his past; Kane knew he'd grown up in Melmond, but he'd always been under the impression his father had been a man of the city - a tradesman, perhaps. Kane's mother had been a city girl, a milliner's apprentice, before she married the court bard. She'd spoken freely of her own childhood; somehow, Kane had always assumed his father's had been more of the same.

Leiden cleared his throat, pulling Kane back from his thoughts. He could see that the man was pleased to have disconcerted him, was enjoying watching him squirm. Not on our side, he thought again. Not on our side at all.

Leiden never stopped smiling. "Did he never tell you that your uncle was very nearly Lord of Melmond?"

Lena knew him for one of Sergeant Quincey's brothers before Ruby told her. They looked just alike, with the same straight, pointed nose that would have looked like a bird's beak on a slimmer man but seemed handsome on the square-jawed Quinceys. They even cut their hair the same way, short in the back and spiky in front. Inside though, the brothers seemed to have very little in common, for despite Logan's subdued smile, Lena could feel excitement exuding from him like a beacon as he crossed the room toward them. She had only ever felt a pervading sense of boredom from the young sergeant.

"Lady Hornwood," he said, bowing low. "Miss Hornwood, Miss Leiden, Miss." He inclined his head toward each of the other girls, sparing a short, sharp nod for Lena, before turning the full glow of his ardor on Beatrix again.

"Logan," Beatrix said, her smile gorgeous, her mood annoyed. "Pull up a chair."

"Thank you, but I rather like the look of this couch," he said, nodding at the space between Beatrix and her sister.

"Oh, of course. We'll make room," said Beatrix, standing, crossing to the other couch to sit between Lena and Ruby, leaving the cushions beside Nicole entirely empty.

Logan blinked. "Ah, thank you," he said, taking the seat she'd left for him. Lena felt the shadow of his disappointment, followed by a little sunbeam of hope. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"I didn't," Beatrix said, oblivious to the lightshow her words were causing, for Logan's face remained unchanged. "Nicole wanted to talk to you."

Nicole nodded. "I just thought you'd like to know we had word from cousin Ashelia!"

Lena could tell Nicole expected something, some kind of reaction from Logan, but the broad-shouldered man gave off only a mild interest in the news. He cocked his head, flashing Nicole a small smile. "Did you? Victor will be glad to hear it." He looked about the room, and when he spotted the slim man standing beside Sergeant Quincey, he gave a piercing whistle and waved the two of them over.

"No! Don't call him over here!" Nicole grimaced, too late to stop him. "She can't marry Victor. He's far too loud for her."

Logan chuckled. "And your sweet cousin's too quiet for me. Give it up, Nic."

"You're so stubborn, Logan!" Nicole snorted as the man and the sergeant came toward them.

Lena could feel the sergeant's boredom when he was still several paces away, but from the slender, smiling Victor, she could sense very little even when he reached them, his emotions muted by a drunken buzz. Though he was still upright and walking straight, he was clearly deeper into his cups than Nicole was, the kind of man her aunt would describe as a "happy drunk". "What's this?" he said, grinning stupidly at first Logan then Beatrix. "Another duel? Did you need me to be your second?"

Logan was amused, but Lena felt Beatrix do a sort of mental flinch. "Nothing like that," said Logan. "Nicole was just telling me they've heard from Ashe."

"Oh? So she reached Cornelia in one piece?" said Victor.

"She did, and she says she's settling in nicely," said Nicole, going on to describe the contents of her cousin's letter, something about how Ashelia had been sent away to serve as companion to an elderly relative.

Lena didn't hear all of it, too distracted by what she was feeling. Victor seemed enthusiastic on the surface, but beneath the alcoholic haze, Lena sensed nothing more from him than the same mild interest his older brother had shown. Ruby seemed more intrigued in the news than he did, asking a number of questions that Nicole was quick to answer.

But it was the young sergeant who surprised Lena the most. As soon as Logan said the girl's name, Gabriel Quincey's attention had gone taut like a rigging line when the wind takes the sails. He didn't speak, only stared out the window into the deepening night, listening intently but pretending not to be.

"What was it Nicole was saying about marriage?" Lena whispered, leaning closer to Beatrix. "Is she playing match-maker for this cousin of yours?"

Beatrix shook her head. "The match is already made. Our uncle has been Lord Quincey's best friend since childhood. They have it all worked out: Ashelia is to marry one of the Quincey boys, but they didn't bother to specify which."

Lena nodded, but this was new territory for her. She knew arranged marriages were common among the nobility, but she hadn't known anyone who had one. Well, the king and queen of Cornelia, perhaps, but she could tell they loved each other and, anyway, she didn't truly know them. She wondered if the far away cousin Ashelia had a preference, if perhaps her heart sang at the mention of one particular Quincey brother over the others or if she only regarded them with the same passing amusement Lena felt from Logan and Victor.

She realized the conversation had gone quiet. Nicole was staring at her, and soon the others were as well. "You're making a face, Miss Lena. Pray tell us what's on your mind," said Nicole.

"I'm sorry!" Lena said. "I was just thinking… This arrangement between your uncle and Lord Quincey seems strange to me. Does the girl have any say in the outcome, or are you to work it out between the three of you?" she asked, addressing her question to the Quinceys.

"Four of us," said Victor. "There's Hugh as well, though he doesn't want her."

That had been rude, somehow. Lena didn't know why, but she felt shock and discomfort from the others. "Victor," Logan growled.

"Arrangements like theirs are common among the high families," said Ruby, ignoring Victor as thoroughly as Beatrix was ignoring Logan. "More common than what you have, I daresay."

"What I have?" Lena asked, sipping at the wine that had gone too warm to be enjoyable.

Ruby smiled. "You know: a love match! Your young man is quite taken with you. Even with half his face covered, I could see that clear enough."

"You could?" She took another sip by way of hiding behind her glass.

"Of course! I saw how you looked at each other all afternoon. Don't you agree, Gabriel?"

"I wasn't watching-" the sergeant began, but Nicole interrupted him.

"Why does he wear that thing, anyway? It looks dreadfully stifling."

Lena froze with her mouth full of wine. They were staring at her again, waiting patiently and curiously for her answer, all but the sergeant who knew what the scarf covered.

She choked when Victor asked, "Is it true he's deformed?"

Ruby gasped. "Victor!"

Lena coughed, spilling what was left in her glass all over the borrowed black dress. Her eyes found the sergeant's, and she knew she couldn't keep the accusation from her glare.

Sergeant Quincey's face showed his surprise. "I never said a word!" he said quickly.

Victor chuckled. "Gabriel never tells me anything. I had it from Corporal Wilhelm who heard it from the constable who escorted you in. They say under that mask, he's hideous."

"He isn't," Lena said, looking over her shoulder at Jack where he stood harmlessly in a corner, alone.

When she turned back, the others were still watching her, and she could feel curiosity from the lot of them. Appalled as they were by Victor's questions, they all wanted to know. She was struck by the hypocrisy of it: the polite behavior on the surface when they were all the same as Victor underneath. It was like lying, not only to each other but to themselves. She faced Victor when she said, "There are some scars. They're not as bad as all that."

"I thought it must be something," Victor said. "He wouldn't have settled for a servant otherwise. Even the bastard son of a lord can generally do better than that." He raised his glass for a long drink, but the sergeant snatched it out of his hand, sending red drops flying.

"Clearly you've had enough," Gabriel said over Victor's protests.

And that was too much for Lena, for it wasn't that the sergeant disagreed with what his drunken brother had said, only with how he had said it out loud. She wondered what she might hear from Logan, or Beatrix, or Ruby, if they too had had as much wine as the slender Victor. "Excuse me," she said, standing, suddenly wanting very much to be with her real friends rather than these well-dressed nobles.

As she left them, she heard Beatrix say, "Logan, I should take my brother home if I were you."

She didn't look back.

Jack leaned against the wall and he watched people. Nearby, close enough that he caught snatches of their conversation, a pair of older women spoke excitedly about some new dressmaker. They stopped at a commotion near the entrance: the sergeant and Logan were manhandling a protesting Victor out the door. Farther on, Redden sat talking with an older man, rolling his eyes as he apparently disagreed with whatever was being said. Kane was with Leiden; they stood with two other lords, along with that Rook fellow. Jack didn't see the secretary anywhere, and he wondered about that, for he had a clear view of the door and he hadn't seen the pale man leave. Servants came and went through a service door in the far wall; perhaps the secretary had gone that way?

Near Lord Redden's seat, a table beside the service door held plates of vegetables, both cooked and raw, constantly being refilled by an attentive maid. Jack's eyes kept drifting back to the food. He didn't know how long he'd been staring at it when he became aware of someone at his side and turned to find Lena there.

"My lady," he said. "Had enough of the Hornwoods?"

She smiled up at him, but she seemed sad. "They're alright, actually. But then the Quinceys joined us. It was too crowded over there."

He opened his mouth to say the Quinceys had gone, but snapped it closed again when her tone of voice sank in. Something must have happened to upset her. "It is rather more people than I expected," he said as he glanced at the two older women. They were no longer discussing the dressmaker. They were looking slantwise at Lena, and amidst their mutterings to each other, Jack could just make out the words "servant" and "scandalous". He glared at them until they wandered away. Lena raised an eyebrow at him as though he'd done something foolish. He cocked his head toward where Ruby and the two girls sat arguing on the couch. "Did they treat you well?"

"Fine," she said, wiping a hand across her eyes. "Nicole, she's the one in yellow, seemed put off by my status, but the other, Beatrix, didn't mind."

"Good for Beatrix," Jack said, but he noted she hadn't mentioned how the Quinceys had behaved. They settled into a comfortable silence, just the two of them. No one approached them, though Jack continued to catch people furtively glancing his way. When a few more moments passed without comment from Lena, he said, "Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?"

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the floor.

He let her be, though he resolved to ask the sergeant some very direct questions when next they met. For a time, he was content to stand beside her, watching people circle the room. His eyes kept returning to the food, and his stomach rumbled; he hoped Lena couldn't hear it. He watched as Lord Redden stood, made himself a plate, and headed toward them.

"Son," the bard said with a hint of a smile but a withering tone.

Jack's tone wasn't much better. "Father."

"Quite a mess we're in."

"Yes, I'd noticed."

Redden held the plate out to him, and for a moment Jack stared at the little pile of olives and sliced tomatoes in incomprehension - he couldn't eat here - but then Redden spoke again, his voice quiet. "Might as well do it now, lad."

"No," Jack said.

Redden sighed. "That guard who escorted us in hasn't kept quiet about what he saw. Most of these people have already heard about you, and I promise the rumors look worse than you do."

Jack shook his head. "I'll wait."

"For how long? We could be days here. You can't give up eating altogether."

"Try me."

Redden handed the plate to Lena, who took the offering with a look of wide-eyed confusion. He clasped Jack by the shoulder, leaning in for what must have looked, on the outside, like a fatherly embrace, and he whispered directly into Jack's ear. "The more time they spend looking at you, the less time they'll spend wondering about her." He stepped back, patting Jack's shoulder before he walked away.

Jack looked down at Lena, at her confused expression. He looked at the plate of food and found that his appetite had gone, replaced by a cold, numb feeling in his stomach.

"What did he say to you?" Lena asked. "Jack?"

He shook his head. He tried to take a deep breath but it caught in his throat. For Lena, he told himself, reaching up to unwind the scarf.

His fingers felt leaden, but he managed to loosen it enough that the soft folds sank down around his neck. He knew when the first person got a good look at the scars from the way the silence spread through the room, followed by whispers that rasped like stinging sand against tender skin.

He saw people looking his way, no longer sneaking glances at him but openly staring, and he tried to keep his own gaze focused on the food in Lena's hands. His face felt like it was on fire. His left hand fell to the hilt of the sword he wore and he fought against a sudden and overwhelming urge to Teleport away.

"Jack," Lena said, moving in front of him. "Look at me."

He lifted his eyes to her face, then to the olive she held out for him, and when he didn't take it from her she pressed it right to his lips. He opened his mouth, taking it in, but he couldn't taste it; his tongue felt dusty and dry. He chewed and chewed, but his throat seemed to have closed up when he tried to swallow.

"Pretend I'm saying something very interesting," Lena said, offering him a slice of tomato this time. "These people don't matter."

Jack couldn't say how long they stood like that, pretending to converse, Lena handing him small bites like he was a baby bird, or some exotic pet to be tempted with fine morsels. He focused on her. He knew there were other people in the room, could feel their eyes on him like a physical blow, but his ears rang so that he couldn't hear any of the noises of the party. He took the food from Lena when she handed it to him, chewing and swallowing mechanically, struggling to keep it down.

He only looked up when a shadow fell across him, Kane standing close with an unreadable look on his face. "Leiden's excusing us," he said shortly. "Let's go."

Jack managed not to run on his way out of the room, but it was a near thing.

Author's Note: 3/3/17 - Poor little lost Thad. I know I said I based Melmond on New Orleans, but there's clearly a bit of Baton Rouge in there too (I'm looking at you, Coursey Blvd! How many names does one street need?).

This is the longest chapter so far. If I was still posting on a weekly schedule, I definitely would have had to split this up! But I really wanted to get the dinner party done in a single chapter so we could move on. I threw a lot of information at you here, but there's some Game of Thrones level intrigue going on in Melmond! (Or, there would be, if I was a better writer. This is my first book, after all.) Reader Draen, who is awesome, pointed out (nicely!) that we're taking a long time to get to the Earth Cave. I have nothing to say in my defense. I really thought this story would be shorter when I started it. I'm as stumped as you are, Draen!

Shout out to my Beta Bestie, Dizzy, for helping with that last scene. Jack is my baby, and I hate to hurt him. By the time I got to that scene, I was so done with this (very long) chapter that I couldn't make myself do it. Dizzy took my rough and disgusting draft and turned it into complete sentences. So we can blame her for hurting our bae (j/k, Dizzy! We love you!).