Outside the Earth Cave, Twenty-four Years Ago

Redden sat alone beside a small fire. The white mages, unfailingly polite, had invited him to join them around theirs, but he had declined. He found them insufferable.

They had taken one look at Bram's aether diagrams and concluded they were wrong, immediately discussing ways to tweak and improve the spell. Yes, Redden could admit that the spell lacked something, but their enthusiasm as they worked grated on him. Even now, he could hear their excited exclamations as one of them cast it again, working through an endless string of variations.

At another fire, at the top of the next hill, his own men gathered. Cid's men, Redden thought, or what was left of them. Few around Melmond still believed he and Cid were the sons of Titan - no son of Titan would have fallen as Cid had. Of those who believed still, few were willing to return to the cave. If a son of Titan had died there, men reasoned, what chance did an ordinary man have? Only the staunchest of Redden's supporters remained, five of them, all of them committed in their belief that Redden was more than he appeared. Redden found them insufferable too.

He heard someone's approach, felt it in the aether, but Redden didn't look up from the flames. He didn't want to speak with anyone. He hoped the newcomer would take the hint and go away, but when whoever it was didn't move after several minutes, Redden looked up.

It was an older man, a foreigner, one of those desert people from up north. He seemed to be some sort of attendant to the prince. "We've meat over there," the man said, tilting his head toward yet another campfire, the one where the prince and his Cornelian soldiers gathered. "You are welcome to join us."

"I'm not hungry," Redden said. He'd packed his own rations anyway. He'd made this trip before. He knew how to take care of himself.

The foreigner shrugged. "You should keep up your strength. They may need your magic. They may need your sword."

"They'll get what they need from me," Redden muttered.

The man nodded, but he didn't move away. Instead, he found a place across the fire from Redden and took a seat, moving surprisingly gracefully for someone of his apparent age. Redden tried to ignore him, returning his gaze to the fire, but he was keenly aware of the man's eyes on him.

When Redden finally looked up, meeting the man's gaze, the man smiled a wrinkled smile. Redden realized the man was perhaps not as old as he had seemed. Some people accumulated wrinkles faster than they did years. Redden looked at the man critically, trying to determine his age. He gave up, annoyed. "What do you want?"

"I prefer to know who I am working with," the man said. "These men, even these mages, I have worked with each of them before. I know their minds. What is on your mind, Redden Carmine?"

"Nothing," Redden lied. He didn't feel like telling this man, this stranger, that he was consumed by thoughts of Cid. Always Cid. Redden felt his brother's loss as strongly now as he had the day it happened, as if his soul had lost a limb and would never be whole again.

The man only continued to watch him, not looking away. You're lying, that gaze said.

"I was just…" Redden said stupidly. "Just listening. It… it calms me."

The man nodded, that wrinkled smile unwavering. "Lord Westen told me you were a good listener. He said when you pay attention you remember everything you hear. Stories, songs..."

Redden snorted. "Not everything. He exaggerates."

"What have you heard these men talking about?"

"Idle gossip," Redden said shrugging. "Nothing worth repeating."

The older man chuckled. "Humor me. What else do you have to do?"

Redden sighed. He turned, facing the men currently gathered at the prince's fire as they shared their meal. "That one - Driscoll, is it? - he's from a farm east of Cornelia. His mother's ill. That one asked after her, so he and Driscoll must be on friendly terms. Old friends, I'd guess. Probably their fathers were friends long before they were born."

He pointed out another soldier, an older one, more muscular than the others. "I don't know where Cascius found that one. A mercenary? Or he was, at least. Don't know what turned him around, but he's loyal to the prince now. I'm guessing the Cornelian guard wouldn't take him in?"

The man nodded. "Go on."

"He thinks it's going to rain. He's favoring one leg, an old break. He feels the rain in it. He's been right often enough in the past that the others are prepared for a storm."

"That is very observant," the man said.

"There's more," Redden said. He was showing off now, he knew, but that wrinkled, knowing smile, irked him. "Those two are siblings," he said, pointing at one of the soldiers and one of the white mage boys. "The mage shouldn't be here - still in training - but he used his brother's connections to get on this team. I won't have him in that cave with us. You'll see to it."

The man looked over at the white mage camp, not startled in the least by this news. He observed the boy a moment, seeming to memorize him, then he nodded. "It will be as you say."

Redden hardly stopped for breath. He pointed out one person after another from both the white mages and the soldiers. "Those two don't get along. That man's got a drinking problem. Those women are related, but not mother and daughter. An aunt, maybe. The younger one's pregnant but trying to hide it. You'll keep her out of the cave too. If she argues, tell the aunt. Or that soldier over there. The way he's looking at her, I'd say he's the father.

"They're not traditional soldiers, none of them. Like that mercenary, I think Cascius found them all somewhere, took them in, saw to their training. His father lets him do what he likes with them because it keeps him busy, but he doesn't respect the prince," Redden said, turning back to his own fire again, looking at the foreigner over the flames. "He's headstrong and over-confident. Likely he has reason to be, considering how well he wears that armor. He'd have had the best training Fuller could buy. But he didn't tell Fuller he was coming here, did he?"

The man stopped smiling then. It was all the confirmation Redden needed.

Redden snorted. "No, he didn't tell the king. He loaded up that ragtag band of misfit soldiers, made some noises about training exercises, was it? And here you all are. I'm betting he didn't think about what it would mean for Melmond if anything happened to him here, didn't think about what it would mean for his own kingdom. How am I doing so far?"

The man pursed his lips. "You are not entirely wrong. He spared no thought for Melmond. He views it only as the means to an end."

"What end?"

"Securing his rule," said the man. "That is where you are wrong about him, young master Carmine. He did think of Cornelia. He thinks about what it must mean to his people for their crown prince to be a coddled weakling."

"He doesn't look like a weakling," Redden said.

"Looking isn't enough. He must prove it. To his father, and to himself." He stood, stretched. "You are a good observer of people, Redden Carmine. That is quite a skill. Not just listening, but analyzing. Prince Cascius could use a man like you."

Redden returned his gaze to the fire. "I'm tired of being used."

The man began to walk back toward his prince, but he patted Redden's shoulder on the way. "We are always being used, young master Carmine. That does not mean we cannot choose how."

Melmond Manor, Present Day

Jack's arms were burning before they were halfway to the manor. Lena wasn't heavy, but neither was Jack strong. And Redden had set a brisk, unforgiving pace.

Still, even Redden had scarcely been able to keep up with Thad. The boy had run ahead of them all, held back only by his fear of the dark, by his need to stay near Redden and the lantern he'd taken from the inspectors. Though Redden barked at the boy to wait for them, Jack suspected Thad might inadvertently be speeding them along anyway. He didn't mention it; Redden seemed angry enough as it was. Jack ignored his aching arms and focused on not falling behind.

"I told you I would take her if you got tired," Kane said beside him.

"And I told you I could handle it," Jack said, though he was breathing heavily enough that his attempts at bravado sounded false even to him.

Kane nodded, but seemed relieved. It hadn't escaped Jack's notice that the guardsman still had his sword out, that he looked to the darkened fields on either side of the road as though expecting an attack at any moment. Despite his offer, Jack knew Kane would rather keep his own arms free.

"There's nothing out there," Jack said.

Kane glanced at him. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Jack said, taking another look around. In his aether sight, the grassy expanses on either side of the manor road were empty, lifeless stretches where people seldom walked. No wisp of aura showed there, only currents of raw aether building and breaking over the swamps like waves at a beach. Their natural currents were completely unlike the way the dead men had moved through the fog.

Kane nodded, but he kept his sword in hand.

They walked on in silence save for Redden's occasional calls to Thad, snarling at him to stick with the group. Jack's mind wandered as much as Thad did, combing over the events of the evening, the magic he'd used, the state of his depleted reserves.

By living as a black mage, Jack had nearly died. Worse than his own near-death experience, his attempts to keep Lena and Thad safe had failed spectacularly. Kane had explained how he'd found them in the harbor, seconds from harm. It would have been my fault, he realized. If Kane hadn't found them when he did… My fault…

He held Lena tighter, letting his cheek rest against her hair. He'd uncovered his face during the fight; the feel of those soft curls against his skin tickled, a pleasant sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was a sensation he felt he didn't deserve. He hadn't been able to protect her against the vampire, not when it counted. That other nameless mage had lost his life keeping her safe.

My fault… He remembered another night, another white mage, another creature out of nightmare: his mother fighting the marilith on the night Jack had lost everything. If I hadn't run in, if I had stayed back, the beast wouldn't have struck out that last time and she might have survived.

"How are we going to tell her about Cole?" Kane asked, startling Jack out of his dark thoughts, bringing him back to the dark road.

"I don't know," Jack said, remembering how upset she'd been when she'd first heard that the young pirate and his crewmate were missing. "Carefully."

"Maybe…" Kane said, looking out at the black fields again. "Maybe it wasn't him? It was dark, we're both tired. We could have-"

"It was him," Jack said. "His body, anyway. Shoved full of aether and set loose to prey on the living. That was necromancy. At this point, I'm afraid we're unlikely to find Felder alive."

"I just keep hoping…" Kane said.

"Keep hoping," Jack told him. "But don't expect much."

Ahead of them, the house loomed large, brightly lit from within. Thad ran for it. "Thadius!" Redden called, cursing under his breath. "Kane, catch him. Keep him out of my way."

"Yes, father," Kane said, putting his sword away and running after the boy.

"You stay with me," Redden said to Jack.

Jack shifted Lena in his arms and strode after the red mage.

After a quick word with the servants, Redden marched to Orin's room at the back of the house. There were more people in the hallways than usual, particularly for this time of night, many of them crowded into Orin's little room. Leiden was there, looking grave, a smattering of attendants with him, Corporal Clyne and two other guards looming outside.

Corporal Clyne's eyebrows shot up. "Miss Lena!" he said when he saw what Jack carried. "What happened to her?"

"Later," Jack told the guard, stepping past him, nearer the door.

Thad was there already, squirming and crying, trying to escape the headlock Kane held him in. Jack stood beside the two of them as there was no space left in the room. He could see through the doorway that they'd laid the old man in his bed.

"Get out of my way!" Redden said to the various lurkers. He went to Orin's side, hands glowing.

"We've done all we can for him, short of magic," Leiden said. "We administered potions, but to no noticeable effect."

Redden sat back, running a hand through his white hair. "I need space," he said. "Out! All of you! Out!"

The servants and attendants shuffled awkwardly, but at Leiden's nod, they began to leave.

"You, too, Arthur," Redden said, indicating the door.

Leiden stiffened, clearly offended to be dismissed so sharply, but he strode after them.

When he was alone in the room, Redden looked at the boys still waiting in the hall and snapped, "Well? Don't just stand there!"

Kane released Thad, who immediately ran inside, then Jack moved in with Lena as Kane followed and closed the door behind them.

Jack felt the aether move as Redden waved a glowing hand in Lena's direction. "Get her up," he said, shoving Thad aside as he bent over Orin once more.

Lena murmured in Jack's arms as her enchanted Sleep was Dispelled. Jack grumbled, moving to the chair beside the bed, setting her gently down. "You realize she's been traumatized?"

"She hasn't," Redden said. "I know it looked that way, but she was only reflecting Scarlet."

"Damn it, Redden-"

"I'm not having this argument with you right now," Redden snapped. "I need her." He placed his glowing hands over Orin's chest, closing his eyes as he worked a healing spell.

Jack wanted to argue, but the monk's breathing was so shallow, his skin so pale. No, now wasn't the time to fight over Lena. He knelt in front of her chair, softly touching her face. "Dagona," he said, forgetting himself. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Lena. Lena, wake up."

She opened her eyes slowly, reluctantly. "Where…?"

"We're at the house. Listen to me. Orin's hurt."

"Orin?" She sat up straighter, snapping to wakefulness when she saw Orin on the bed. "Oh! Oh no!" She scrambled over to him, hands glowing. "Move!" she said. Redden stepped away.

She sat silently, running her hands over the old man, pausing at a mass of bruises on his neck. "This is…"

"The night plague," Redden said, nodding.

"How?" she asked. "When? I thought we…" She stopped, composed herself. "I thought we defeated the vampire?"

That hitch in her voice, the hollow look in her eyes… Oh, Lena, what happened to you out there? Jack wondered.

"We did," Redden said. "This happened before that. Can you help him?"

"He's lost a lot of blood," Lena said. "No matter how much I Cure him, his body may not be strong enough to take the spells."

"No!" Thad said. "No! He has to be alright!" He hopped back on the bed, right up against Lena, but Redden hauled him back.

"She doesn't need you distracting her right now," Redden growled.

"Nor you," Jack said.

Redden glared at him, but Jack crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.

"All of you, hush," Lena said. "I need to concentrate."

They watched wordlessly as Lena cast Cure after Cure. Jack watched through his aether sight, marveling at how swiftly, how efficiently, Lena worked her spells, but despairing as each Cure slid ineffectually past the monk's soul without being fully absorbed.

After several long minutes, she sat back, wiping a hand across her forehead now beaded with sweat. "I've done all I can for now," she said.

"Is it enough?" Redden asked.

Lena shook her head. "I can't tell," she said quietly. "He's… he's so old."

"How long before you can try again?" Redden asked.

"I'm not sure," Lena said. "A few hours, maybe?"

Redden nodded. He stepped for the door.

"Where are you going?" Kane asked.

"To ask Leiden for a few hours worth of healing potions. I'll not sit around and do nothing while I wait."

It sounded like an accusation, a judgement. Do you see how you've failed me? those words seemed to say. Lena flinched as Redden slammed the door behind him.

When he'd gone, Kane said, "Will that do any good? Leiden said potions didn't work."

Lena shrugged. "It might. Even if Lord Leiden couldn't see it, the aether might stay in Orin's system longer that way. It would give his body more time to take it in." She was shaking, sweating, as she moved away from the bed, back to the chair.

Thad and Kane both went to Orin's side. Thad buried his face in the blankets and cried. Kane stood over him, patting his back, but the guardsman's eyes were thick with tears of his own.

Jack went to Lena. He opened the window to the fresh night air, then knelt beside her. He didn't cast a cooling spell - he hadn't enough reserves left for that - but he did let a little of the ice he felt inside himself come to the surface. Lena shivered, but she shot him a grateful look.

"Are you alright?" Jack said.

"I'm fine," she said, running a weary hand over her face. "Redden's not upset with me, I can feel that much. He's just-"

"I wasn't talking about that," Jack said. "Tonight, out there, you felt something."

Lena looked down at the floor, shaking her head.

"Lena, when that creature died-"

"Hush," she said. She lifted a hand, put it to his lips to shut him up. "I can't think about that," she said. She looked at where her hand covered his mouth, then drew it back quickly. "I just… I just can't. Not now. Not with-" She nodded toward the bed, toward Orin.

Jack nodded. "Very well. But when you feel up to it, if you need to talk… I know how fond you white mages are of talking through your feelings."

Lena smirked. "Is that what you know?"

"Indeed. My mother wanted me to be a white mage, you know."

She barked a laugh, far too short, and then her face grew serious again. She looked away from him, out of the window and into the night.

He stood, straightening his scarf, trying to ignore the warmth radiating out from where her fingers had graced his lips.

"Jack?"

He looked down at her, found her eyes brimming. "What is it?"

"It will be a few hours before I can try to heal him again," she said.

"Yes, you mentioned."

"Only… I can't seem to still my mind. Can you… can you make me sleep again?"

Jack cringed. "You knew that was me?"

She smiled. "I knew."

Even colored by melancholy, that smile undid him. "Sit back," he said. "Get comfortable."

She did, settling into the chair with a relieved sigh, closing her eyes as she waited for the spell.

Jack drew the aether, reached for his reserves. They were empty. Berating himself for an idiot, he stepped to the window, searching the night outside for what he needed in the raw aether. Thank gods I've practiced this one, he thought.

When he'd finished and Lena was sleeping peacefully in the chair, he stepped over to the bed beside Kane, the two of them looking down on Orin as Thad continued to cry.

"I feel so helpless," Kane said. "There's got to be something we can do."

"There is," Jack said. "Guard these two until Thad and I get back."

Thad looked up at him, confused but still sniffling.

"Back?" Kane said, cocking an eyebrow. "Back from where?"

"From the ship. We still have Oscar, remember? If an ordinary healing potion might help, an elixir might help more. I have to try."

Kane furrowed his brow. "Father won't like the two of you going out unguarded, not after what just happened."

"I'll get Clyne to go with us," Jack said. "We'll say we're going to tell the captain about Cole, that we want to deliver the news in person. He won't try to stop us."

Kane nodded, sending them on their way. It took a moment for Jack to get Thad away from Orin and out the door. In truth, Jack himself had a hard time leaving Lena behind, but, as he told Thad, neither of them were doing any good hanging around there.

They hit a snag, however, when Jack didn't find Clyne in the hallway outside. Apparently, Leiden had cleared everyone out after Redden's tantrum. The servants, the attendants, the guards, all were gone. It was the middle of the night, and the house had gone to bed now that the excitement was over.

"We're still going, right?" said Thad.

"I think we should," Jack said. "In fact, I think now would be a good time for you to practice making us go faster."

Thad frowned, looking down at the floor. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it when we were fighting."

"I know," Jack said, walking them toward the front door. "It's alright. Even if you can't do it now, it's still alright. But we can try it. You may find it somewhat easier when our lives aren't in immediate danger."

They made it outside before they encountered another person. He sat on the porch steps looking toward the city. It was a house guard, but not one of Jack's usual crew. It was one of Redden's, the one who had been with Kane earlier.

The one who knows I'm a mage, Jack thought, instantly uncomfortable. "I thought we left you in town," he said.

"You did," the man said, standing. "I followed after I passed orders on to the rest of my men."

Jack waited, wondering if the guard would try to stop him from leaving. The man said nothing else, though, only stood patiently as if waiting for orders of his own. From me? Jack thought. Ridiculous. But still the soldier only waited there.

"I didn't catch your name," Jack said.

"Killian," the soldier answered.

"You're not afraid of me, Killian?"

Killian shrugged. "I'm sworn to serve your house."

Jack nodded. He could work with that. "And if my young friend and I were in need of a guard?"

Killian's eyes narrowed. "Just tell me one thing. If I serve you, am I ever going to have to choose between my duty to your house and my duty to Melmond?"

"We're here to save your stupid city!" Thad said, sneering as thoroughly as only a child could manage.

"Thad," Jack said, shaking his head. He looked toward Killian; the soldier seemed to be waiting for an answer. Jack sighed, exhausted by the constant need to prove himself. "I'll tell you what, Killian: if the day ever comes that you believe I'm a bigger threat to the people of Melmond than the things we're fighting, you can turn that sword of yours against me."

He stepped off the porch, began the long walk back to town. Thad walked beside him. The soldier followed a few paces behind.

Sitting on a stool in the corner of the Sahagin Prince's galley, Thad poked at the potted ochu in his lap. It growled softly, but made no other response. It didn't move, it didn't try to eat him, it hadn't even tried to eat Jack when the black mage cut off three of its withered tentacle vines to make the elixir. In point of fact, Thad hadn't been this close to Oscar's pot since the first day he'd carried it out of Matoya's cave. It worried him. Was the ochu always like this at night? Was it the lack of sunshine?

"Thad," Jack said. "Pay attention."

"Sorry," Thad said, focusing on Jack once more.

Jack turned back to the stove, mixing, stirring. He had said that, as a mage, Thad needed to learn to brew a potion, but Thad had trouble settling into a studious frame of mind with all of them crammed into the ship's tiny galley. In addition to Jack and Thad, the soldier Killian was there standing awkwardly to the side, while Mr. Biggs, the ship's cook, snored like a bear in winter, propped up on a barrel beside the cookstove. The elderly pirate didn't trust Jack in his kitchen alone and had insisted he keep an eye on things, but clearly he didn't mistrust the mage enough to remain awake.

Thad watched half-heartedly through his aether sight as Jack raised and lowered the stove's flame, nudged the aether in the pot this way and that. Potions didn't have spells cast into them so much as they had the aether, the life force, of the various ingredients rearranged into more useful shapes. Whatever shape Jack was working on was one Thad had yet to learn.

"This isn't how I thought you mages worked…" Killian said, an edge of disappointment to his voice.

"Expecting a blood sacrifice?" Jack said, using a wooden ladle to stir the contents of the dented soup pot, a concoction which looked more like snot than soup.

"No," Killian said quickly. "It's only that I expected… well, a bit more than this, if I'm being honest."

Jack sighed. He scooped out a jar of the mixture and held it up to the light of the galley's single dim lantern. "I will admit, it's not usually done with so little dignity."

Outside the galley, somewhere up on deck, a pirate sang. Others roared with raucous laughter. They would all be drunk by now. Jack had broken the news to them about Cole when he and Thad arrived; it was customary among pirates to drink toasts to the fallen. The noise, along with the cramped quarters, were a far cry from the magical laboratories Thad had imagined were used for potion-making.

Jack swirled the jar, squinted at it, his eyes glowing with aether. He pulled the jar close, sniffed it, then shrugged, pulled his scarf down, and took a tentative sip. Grimacing, he grabbed another chunk of ochu tentacle from the counter and scraped its sappy aloe into the pot. He waved his hand, and the stove's flame shrank to almost nothing. "Thad, that needs to simmer at least an hour."

"Right," Thad said. He focused on the pot. Still not entirely sure how he did what he did, he set it apart from the rest of the room. Within seconds, the oozing liquid began to thicken and he released his hold on it. "I think now?"

Jack nodded. "Looks like." He scooped out another sample, sniffed it, tasted it. He shook his head. "It's not as strong as the batch I made for Aryon. I'm going to need more vines."

"You've had three already!" Thad protested, hugging Oscar's pot. It had been five days since Thad's last visit - maybe six, he wasn't sure - but Leo had told him when he arrived that Oscar had hardly eaten in all that time, growing more and more listless. "He's sick! You can't keep cutting bits off of him!"

Jack sighed heavily. "I know. I wish there was another way, but, Thad, it's either the ochu or Orin."

Thad sniffled, trying to fight back the urge to cry. It wasn't a choice, of course. He had to save Orin. Oscar was only a plant, after all, not a real pet as Jack had been quick to remind him… and yet…

"I'm sorry," Jack said, patting his shoulder. He had the kitchen knife in his other hand. When he cut off a tentacle, and another, the ochu didn't react at all. Finally, Jack said, "I need you for this. This is the part that's going to take a long, long time."

Thad nodded. He focused on Jack, on himself, on the galley, and he concentrated on making them faster. He recognized this part of himself - he had used it many times before, generally while running away from something - but using it here, sitting still in the safe space of the ship, surrounded by their protective crew, was an unusual experience.

Killian stood by the stove, watching skeptically over Jack's shoulder. It wasn't until the soldier said, "What are you doing, exactly?" that Thad realized how mundane everything must look without aether sight. Physically, Jack hadn't moved in several minutes, but to Thad's view the mage had been working the whole time, moving bits of aether around like pieces of a puzzle.

"Magic," Jack said. "Keep quiet." He stood, arms crossed as he stared down at the pot.

Killian rolled his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled, moving to the galley door.

The soldier sat in the floor, leaned his head back against the doorframe, and was asleep in minutes, his aura a green shimmer similar to Orin's. Thad compared it to his own, a different shade of green, and to that of the sleeping pirate by the stove. Mr. Biggs had a steely gray aura, the color of a chalk slate, though it had faded at the edges to a lighter shade, more white than gray, a sign of his advanced age. Despite their varied colors, the three auras did have one thing in common: all were bright, solid, constant.

Jack's, though, was different. His aura flickered, like a blue candle flame that at any moment could sputter and die. There were empty patches, so many holes that the whole seemed scarcely held together. The raw aether that Jack had drawn and held as he worked shone through in those places, just as it shone through his eyes. Thad stared at those empty spots, like soul-deep scars, wondering what they meant.

Did the fire cause those? he thought, but part of him, a little voice deep down, whispered that no fire in all the world was hot enough to burn that deeply. No, nothing had caused those gaps. Jack was just… different… but Thad didn't know how he knew.

Time passed. A lot of it. More than could be accounted for by the changing light of the sky outside the galley's small porthole. The funereal sounds of the crew diminished. As Thad watched Jack work, he let his mind wander, no longer even trying to follow the mage's actions. Instead, he thought about how his life had changed - oh, how his life had changed! - since the day he'd first spotted Jack in Cornelia's harbor, lost and apprehensive, an easy mark with his pouch right there on his belt. Thad knew better now. Jack was dangerous. Thad wasn't afraid of him - Jack was his friend - but that didn't change what he was, what his power could do. Just because that power was aimed in the right direction didn't make it any less dangerous. The same winds that fill the sails move the storms, his pappy had always said.

That, of course, made him think about his grandparents, about the home he'd left behind in Pravoka. It seemed so long ago now. He thought about Oscar, about how he would feel if the ochu did die, withered away like a flower in a vase, another loss on top of those he'd already had. And that made him think of the necromancer, of the evil that had come from some other mage's loss.

Thad thought of his own power. It was still subconscious, for the most part. He was aware of it now, could control it to an extent the way he controlled his breathing, but mostly it happened in the background. His lungs worked, his heart beat, the aether moved - he didn't have to control it, it simply was. But making it work for him, now that was new. Like using a net to guide a school of fish through the water, it required a gentle touch. If he tried too hard, the fish would scatter.

By contrast, the aether moved for Jack like a trained falcon. It swooped, it glided, a complicated dance. Jack stood, or paced, or leaned beside the stove, but wherever he stood, whatever his posture, he never stopped working.

Finally Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's done," he said. "I need a bottle of some sort, something to store it in."

Thad hopped off his stool, setting Oscar in the floor, and rummaged through the galley's cluttered shelves where stacks of dishes and boxes of hardtack sat behind the little rails that held them in place when waves rocked the ship. He found a glass bottle, half full, that sloshed as he lifted it. "How about this?"

Jack took it, unstoppered the cork, and sniffed. "How did I know it would be Provokan whiskey?" he muttered. He poked the ship's cook in one bony shoulder. "Biggs," he said, and then louder, "Biggs!" when the elderly pirate continued to snore.

"Wuzzat?" Mr. Biggs mumbled, starting awake.

"I need this empty," Jack said, holding it out to him.

The old cook grumbled, but he took the bottle and chugged its contents down. He was snoring again as soon as he'd handed it off.

"Clean this," Jack said, passing the container to Thad and squatting down beside Oscar's pot, his eyes still aglow as he ran his gloved hands over the ochu's leaves and vines, inspecting.

Thad shuffled past Jack toward the wash bucket by the door, nearly tripping over Killian as the soldier yawned and stretched.

"Finished?" Killian said.

"Yes," Jack said. He stood, reaching for the wooden spoon in the pot on the stove. Then he took perhaps half a spoonful of the thick, gel-like elixir and spread it around the base of the plant, digging it into the soil with the edge of the spoon.

"Will that help?" Thad asked, washing the bottle as best he could.

"I've no idea," Jack said.

It was after sunrise when Thad carried Oscar back up to the deck and positioned him in an open spot that would get plenty of sunshine as the day wore on. As he and Jack left the ship, they passed a pair of pirates on watch duty, both of them red-eyed and squinting, hungover. Jack instructed them to wait an hour and then pour fresh water over the plant. "That should give the elixir time to sink in," he told Thad as they walked up the dock with Killian behind them.

They didn't see anyone else on the streets as they walked. Though the night's curfew ended at first light, people didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave their beds after yesterday's events. Thad wondered how many people had been injured in the fight, as Orin had been, or how many had died like that other mage who had been fighting with Kane.

As they passed out of the west gate onto the manor road, Thad looked back over his shoulder. The sun was creeping over the city's rooftops by then. "I tried to make us faster," he said, sighing.

"You did," Jack said. "In fact, you did well. Elixir takes time, Thad. There's no way I could have finished it so quickly without you. You've likely given us most of a day." He yawned, lifting the bottle over his head as he stretched. "The sooner we get this to Orin, the better."

Seeing Jack yawn, Thad suddenly couldn't stop himself from yawning as well.

His eyes felt scratchy by the time they reached the manor. It seemed like every breath he took ended in another yawn. He'd given them most of a day, Jack had said, so how long did that mean he'd been awake? He hadn't been tired when they'd started, his body still charged from their race through the foggy streets in fear of the roving dead, but that seemed so long ago now, longer ago than it actually had been, apparently.

They found Lena in Orin's room, awake and Curing again already, muttering Leviathan's prayer. Wordlessly, Jack held the bottle out to her, his eyes glazed and bloodshot as the pirate guards' had been. "Oh, thank you!" Lena said, though she looked twice at the bottle's faded and peeling label. She raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"It wasn't mine," he said dryly. "I don't know if you're aware, but I've recently given up alcohol."

She made a noise in the back of her throat, but she said nothing as she bent over the monk, tilting his head back and drizzling a bit of the thick liquid between his lips. Her hands glowed as she massaged his neck to get him to swallow. She sat back. "Really, thank you. I know you worked hard on this. From everything I've read, elixir doesn't come together easily."

"Drink some yourself," Jack said. "I brewed enough for you."

Her face softened. "What about you?"

He shook his head. "Only tired." He took a step toward the door. "Thad?"

"I'm staying here," Thad said.

Jack nodded. He turned and left without another word.

Lena sighed then bent over Orin once again. "Thadius, if you're staying-"

"I won't distract you," he said, curling up on the chair beside the bed.

He watched as Lena resumed her spells, the aether curling and folding inside of her and then flowing out through her hands into the old man. There was a moment as the aether passed from her body into his where it floated free and unattached. Much of it slid off of Orin and back into the raw aether.

How many Cures are out there? Thad wondered, watching the unresolved spells fading into the background until he lost sight of them. They were still out there, surely. And if they were still out there, did white magic really have to come from inside? If he learned to read the raw aether better, as well as Jack did, would he be able to find all those lost Cures floating around? To do white magic without being a white mage?

Like a paladin, he thought. Like Saint Ffamran. Ffamran hadn't been a white mage, not really. He'd been a pirate, a smuggler, before he'd learned white magic and used it to fight evil.

Thad fell asleep, dreamed of Ffamran and the dragon, and then in the dream he was Ffamran, facing the huge, slithering beast, its multiple heads undulating at the end of long snakish necks. Though the dragon was fearsome, Thad wasn't afraid. He knew the story: Ffamran would win. He would win.

"Thad?" Lena said softly near his ear.

"Oh! Don't wake him!" Ruby's voice said from somewhere nearby. "He looks so peaceful!"

"I'm sure he's as hungry as I am," Lena said.

Thad blinked his eyes open. "Huh? Hungry? I'm starving!"

The sun was brighter through the window outside, but still slanting in from the east. Lena stood over him as Ruby hovered in the doorway. "You look well," Lena said, seeming relieved.

"I feel well," he said. "How long have I been asleep?"

Lena smiled. "Not long. A few minutes, perhaps. Ruby says it's time for breakfast. I thought I would go. Would you like to come? If you're still tired, you can stay and sleep more. I'll bring something back for you."

"No," he said, hopping to his feet. "I want to go." He stretched, following Lena and Ruby through the door. He was no longer tired at all.

With his senses open to the aether, Redden watched Lena work. She held her glowing hands over Orin's chest, over his heart, passing him one Cure after another. She crafted each spell slowly, funnelling it into him with care and precision, a trickle of sand through an hourglass.

It was impressive. Branford had said she was a powerful mage - and Redden had seen that the man wasn't exaggerating - but Lena's powers had grown since Elfheim. Her spells were targeted, efficient. Redden felt them, the skill of their construction. He caught himself wishing, as he had often done in his youth, that he had the aether sight to see them. He suspected they would be beautiful.

Still, he didn't need aether sight to tell him the spells weren't being fully absorbed. The vampire's attack had taxed Orin's elderly body to its limits. If the body was beyond repair, the soul would close off. Healing spells would stop working. Orin's soul hadn't closed off completely, but the fact that it wasn't fully open to the aether didn't bode well. He wasn't out of the woods yet.

There was a knock at the door. Redden didn't bother to look up. He knew it was his son, could sense him out there. Lena, too, would have known it was Kane; she paused only briefly to smile in greeting at the young man as he stepped inside, then continued her work.

Kane inclined his head to her but he didn't return the smile. He turned to Redden, presenting him with a small stack of papers. "The inspectors reports have started arriving. Killian just brought this for you."

It was late afternoon. Pollendina's inspectors had been dealing with the aftermath of the previous evening's attacks all day. Redden took the papers but only glanced at them, knowing Kane would have read them already. "What do they say?"

"Sixteen people killed, more than twice that injured. And eight bodies recovered that were clearly dead to begin with."

"Only eight?" Redden said, looking more critically at the reports, flipping through pages in search of the information Kane described. Preliminary reports had people claiming to have seen the undead all over the city, anywhere the fog reached. For only eight corpses to have been found seemed contradictory. Yes, some of the reported sightings could be dismissed - people mistaken about what they saw or lying for attention - but the numbers of dead and injured seemed to indicate more of the reports were accurate than not.

"Only eight," Kane repeated. A shadow of grief passed over his face. "Six of those, including Cole, were among the missing boys we already knew about."

Lena gasped. "Cole's dead?"

Kane winced. "Lena, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you hadn't heard."

Tears filled her eyes, doubtless a reflection of Kane's grief. Redden looked at his son's blank expression, marveling at how well he hid his sadness.

Lena covered her mouth with one still-glowing hand, the power of her last spell not yet dispersed. She stifled back a sob, then said, "What about Felder?"

Kane shook his head. "They haven't found him. There are still four of the missing boys unaccounted for. He could be-"

There was a noise in the hall, rapid footsteps, and then the door opened abruptly. Redden turned to face it even as Kane did, both of them braced to defend themselves.

Sergeant Quincey stood in the doorway, an angry frown on his face. Redden looked toward Lena, still sitting on the bed beside Orin, but she'd hidden her hands in her skirts, hiding her magic. The young officer spared her only a brief glance then seemed to disregard her, bowing stiffly toward Redden.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" Redden growled.

The young officer's frown deepened. "Lord Leiden requests your presence at an emergency meeting of the council."

Redden nodded. "They'll be wanting to discuss these reports." He put a hand on Kane's shoulder. "Stay here."

Quincey cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Lord Leiden requested both of you."

"Both of-?" Redden started to say, but the sergeant had already strode out the door.

"Gabriel! Wait!" Kane said, hurrying after him.

Redden sighed and turned to Lena. "No magic while we're gone. That was too close for comfort." He waited for her nod of acknowledgement before he followed the boys.

He caught up with them a short ways down the hall. Kane argued animatedly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Like father, like son, Redden thought.

"I wanted to tell you," Kane told the sergeant. "But father said-"

"Since when do you care what your father says?" Quincey asked. He made no gestures, arms crossed over his chest, but his voice seethed.

"Since the safety of the whole city is at stake!" Kane said, throwing his hands up.

"And you don't think you can trust me with the safety of this city? My home?"

Redden stepped between them. "Leiden trusted your commanding officer with the safety of Melmond, but clearly he was mistaken to do so."

Quincey deflated a little, a young man facing disturbing facts. "That's different," he muttered.

"Is it?" Redden asked. "How long has Leiden known Commander Malcolm? Compared to that, how long have Kane and I known you? Why should we tell you anything?"

Quincey stuttered over a response, but Redden walked past him, leaving him and Kane to follow as he wove through the manor's hallways toward Leiden's office, the Lords' Council chamber.

The meeting was already underway when Redden arrived, the council gathered around the long table, shouting at one another. Redden took his place among them, claiming the chair that would have been occupied by Lord Quincey if he had been in town. The sergeant, as the youngest son of his family, not set to inherit the house, had no right to sit there. He and Kane shuffled in behind Redden, both standing stupidly until Redden pointed out the bench by the door.

"But we've captured the traitor!" Lord Hornwood said.

"A small victory," said Pollendina, shaking his head. "He was our only lead on the Brotherhood. With him in our custody, we no longer have any means of tracking their movements."

"What's to track? The vampire's dead!" said Lord Talbot. "My informants tell me that aside from the regrettable incidents just after the curfew bell, no one went missing last night."

"Regrettable?" the undersecretary Lord Rook blustered. "Good gods, man! The number of dead and injured from that one 'regrettable incident' rivals the totals from every previous dark mage incident combined! How is that an improvement?"

"It's a catastrophe that will go down in Melmond history!" the elderly Lord Ipsen added with a firm nod.

"But one that won't be repeated," Talbot insisted, rolling his eyes. "With the vampire taken care of-"

"It doesn't end with her," Redden said. "She was just as much a victim as anyone else."

"We know you'd like to believe that, Lord Carmine, given who she was, but surely-"

"No," Pollendina said, cutting off Talbot's wheedling voice. "Redden's right. Freeing Scarlet Carmine from the necromancer's clutches still leaves us with the necromancer himself."

Lord Hornwood scoffed. "This 'Lord Eldieme' that your captured dark mage told you about? We've no evidence that the prisoner didn't just cook up a necromancer to string us along."

Rook's jaw dropped at this suggestion. "There were dead men walking our streets last night! What other evidence do you need?"

Hornwood waved a dismissive hand. "Those 'dead men' disappeared as soon as the vampire controlling them was defeated. It stands to reason-"

"It stands to reason that the necromancer could be out there conjuring up more of them!" said Redden. "We have to hunt him down!"

"That's rather the point of this meeting," Pollendina said impatiently. "How do you suggest we proceed?"

"Just question the mage some more," Hornwood said, waving his hand. "See what other stories he tells you."

"No," Redden said firmly. "I've tortured the man near to death as it is. He doesn't know anything else."

He winced when Kane gasped from his place near the door, both because he'd forgotten the boy was there and because he hadn't instructed Kane on council protocol. "Torture?" Kane said. "What do you mean torture? Since when do you do that? You're a court bard!"

The assembled lords turned to him slowly, as if someone had just pointed out an interesting bug in the room. Lord Rook, a stickler for etiquette, narrowed his eyes, then turned back to the table, clearly dismissing him. "You weren't given leave to speak, young man."

Kane sneered. "I didn't ask for it."

A gasp went around the table. Leiden's eyes bulged at the effrontery. Redden, though, struggled to keep his face blank. It wouldn't do for him to smile at such insolent behavior, even if he was a little proud.

Sergeant Quincy grabbed Kane's sleeve and grumbled something in his ear. They argued quietly for a moment then Kane sat back, arms crossed petulantly over his chest. "I'm sorry, my lords," he said through a clenched jaw. "Please continue."

Redden wanted to slap the satisfied smirk off of Rook's face.

"Is there anything to continue?" Talbot said. "We know precious little as it is. We've only just discovered that their so-called 'victims' at the full moon are chosen from among their own ranks. Our only 'trained' mage," he motioned toward Redden but his tone implied he didn't consider Redden's training adequate, "says he doesn't know what their monthly ritual is meant to accomplish. We don't even know what they want."

Rook and Hornwood nodded in agreement but stopped when Leiden slammed his hands on the table. "We don't need to know!" he growled. "Whatever it is, it's destroying my city. Stop giving me excuses, gentlemen! Give me something I can use!"

Redden shook his head. "We don't have anything you can use. If Eldieme turns another vampire, he'll have the advantage."

"But you've beaten one before!" Hornwood said.

"In point of fact, we haven't," Redden said. "If Scarlet hadn't gained a moment of lucidity and turned her own magic on herself, I doubt we would ever have defeated her. She was far too powerful. You need white mages, Arthur. Swallow your pride and send to White Hall."

The table erupted in protestations, the councilmen all talking over each other. Leiden raised a hand to silence them. "No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not. The price would be too high. Last time we sent to Cornelia for aid, we nearly lost our independence."

"You'll lose your whole city to this necromancer if you don't submit!" Redden argued.

"I still say we can't be sure the necromancer actually exists," said Hornwood, shrugging.

Redden drummed his fingers on the tabletop, glaring at Lord Hornwood until the robust man began to squirm. Finally, he addressed Pollendina. "I assume you've questioned Malcolm already. What about the mage we captured with him?"

The secretary shook his head. "We've learned nothing of consequence from either of them. Malcolm freely admits to passing information on to the Brotherhood but claims that as a non-mage himself he received none in return. We know the other man is a dark mage - he's drawn from the men who guard him - but he doesn't seem to know anything, either about his superiors in the Brotherhood or about his own powers."

"You mean to say he's attacked his own guards with magic he doesn't understand?" Hornwood blurted out.

"No, actually," Pollendina corrected. "I said he'd drawn from them. He says it just happens, that he can't help it. He's done nothing but weep and apologize, begging us not to kill him. He hasn't cast a single spell. I'm not entirely sure he knows how."

"Is that possible?" Lord Ipsen asked, looking to Redden.

"If he's young enough," Redden said, shrugging. "There are no schools of black magic in Melmond. If he came into his powers after Cornelia's black magic ban, he'd have had trouble finding anyone to teach him."

"Seems he has the Brotherhood for that," Hornwood scoffed.

"I suspect education isn't high on their list of priorities," Pollendina said, shaking his head. "At any rate, the man is a coward. I doubt anyone can fake this level of cowardice. Whatever he knows, we've already got it from him."

"I want him questioned further," said Leiden. "Do whatever you have to. I want answers."

"You can't just torture people!" Kane said, leaping to his feet.

Leiden glared at him. "When they endanger my city? I can do whatever I like to them. Sit down."

Kane ignored him, stepping up to face Redden across the table. "There was another man last night. A black mage. One of the Brotherhood. He fought beside me against the vampire and he died doing it. I don't believe he joined the Brotherhood by choice. If this other man is as cowardly as they say, what if he was forced to join up? What if he's innocent?"

"He's a dark mage. He can't be innocent," the young Quincey said from his place on the bench.

Kane met the sergeant's glare with one of his own. "Necromancy is white magic, isn't it? If a white mage can be evil, why can't a dark mage be innocent?"

Quincey stood, fist clenched at his sides, jaw set. Redden knew the boy had been part of the investigation team hunting down the dark mages. Naturally he would be uncomfortable with the idea any of them could have been victims themselves, but he seemed genuinely angry, offended. "If you think-"

"Sergeant Quincey!" Leiden snapped, his voice ringing in the silent room. "I invited you to this meeting as a courtesy, not because I required your input. Leave. Now."

Quincey gestured vaguely toward Kane. "But what about-"

"Now, Gabriel!" Leiden said sternly, cutting him off.

The sergeant flinched as though he'd been struck. He threw one last angry look at Kane then bowed quickly to the gathered lords and walked out.

Kane stared after him, clearly confused. Redden understood the feeling, though he tried not to show it himself. Kane had less right than the sergeant to be at this meeting - the Carmine house was so far below the Quincey's in stature that Redden didn't officially have a seat at the council table - and yet Leiden had required Kane to attend, hadn't dismissed him despite his rudeness at speaking out of turn.

Redden sighed, unable to guess what Arthur might be planning. When had his young friend grown into such a scheming wretch? "Sit down, Kane," he said gently.

Kane obeyed immediately, meekly returning to the bench, an indication of how distracted he must be.

"I believe young master Carmine is right," Pollendina said. "I can't advocate torture in this case. Dark mage or no, somehow I have trouble imaging our prisoner eagerly traipsing off to join the Brotherhood's cause."

"You're likely right. The Brotherhood won't tolerate competition from other mages," Redden said. "Back in Cornelia, those they can't convert, they kill."

"Well and good," said the boisterous Lord Hornwood, "but how many do you really think are doing the Brotherhood's bidding against their will? Wouldn't the innocent ones fight back? Or flee? Or even choose death! Surely death would be better than joining those deranged cultists!"

"They don't stop at killing the mages," Redden said. "They kill whole families. I've seen the results. Entire households bathed in blood. Would you choose to run, even to fight, if you knew it meant leaving your wife and daughters to die?"

"I would take them with me!" Hornwood said.

"Not all mages have your means at their disposal," Ipsen pointed out, ever of practical mind.

Lord Rook rolled his eyes. "And that's supposed to excuse this mage's behavior? We're to coddle and protect him, safe in our custody, despite the fact he was working against the well-being of our city?"

"Couldn't you use him?" Kane asked. "That other mage hurt the vampire before she attacked him. I'm sure of it! This one might-"

Pollendina sighed. "This one's useless. He doesn't seem to know magic and he can barely speak without crying. No, we can't use him." He steepled his hands on the table in front of him, pursed his lips. "But… Perhaps there is another way. We've no white mages of our own left, but what if there are other black mages in the city, people who live in hiding from the Brotherhood?"

Arthur scoffed. "What good would that do us? Black mages are a menace, a threat. We can't trust such people. Look what happened in Cornelia."

"Yes," said Redden, irked. "Look what happened. The Cornelian black mages fought to the death to defend their home against the Brotherhood, and in return, we outlawed their kind. We'd never be able to drum up the same sense of civic duty now. I doubt you'll fare any better at it here."

The thin secretary shrugged. "I believe we could win their loyalty. If we offered them clemency, protection… if they knew we were on their side and supported them against these terrorists…"

Ipsen nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! Why, some of my most faithful servants over the years have been those I rescued from poverty. If they view you as a savior, they're yours forever!"

"We don't even know that there are other mages in Melmond," Arthur said, shaking his head. "Let alone where to find them or if they can be persuaded to our cause."

"At least give me leave to look, my lord," said Pollendina. "If they exist, I believe my inspectors can find them."

If they exist… His tone was too confident, his face almost blank. To Redden, it all but shouted feigned innocence. He knows they exist. He knows where they are, Redden realized.

"We can't spare the men for it," said Leiden, "not if we're to add checkpoints throughout the harbor district and the lower town as you suggested."

"How many men would you need?" Rook asked. "Pardon, my lord, but I like Vince's idea. If there are any mages running loose in the city, I'd rather we get to them before the Brotherhood does. If you supplemented a few of those checkpoints with some of my men, it would free up that many guards for other tasks." The undersecretary's duties were primarily in record keeping. Redden knew the man employed a small army of scribes out of his Blue Quarter office.

Pollendina nodded. "It wouldn't take many. Perhaps a dozen?"

"Fine," said Leiden. "But you'll pull your inspectors back immediately if I require their skills elsewhere. Any other ideas, gentlemen?"

"I still say we lean a little harder on our prisoners!" Hornwood grumbled.

"And so we shall. Redden?"

Redden sighed at the questioning look his son gave him. They were overdue for a frank discussion over what his duties as a court bard usually entailed. "I'll pay them a visit."

Arthur gave him an approving nod. His chair scraped the floor as he stood. "I call this meeting of the council to a close. Good day, gentlemen."

The other men stood as well, making their exits, none as quickly as Pollendina who was likely off to give his men the order to pursue the city's mages.

Redden walked toward Kane, who waited in front of the bench beside the door, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come, son."

Kane nodded, letting himself be led, but they hadn't made it out the door when Leiden called after them, "A moment, Redden."

He waited at the table, watching as the other men trickled out of the room. When Redden and Kane were the only ones left, Leiden beckoned them closer. "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted Kane at our meeting." He rifled through a stack of papers on the table in front of him, holding out a folded letter. "This arrived via swift carrier from the West Hills this morning. I should have mentioned it during the meeting of course, but what with one thing and another there wasn't time."

Redden took the letter but didn't look at it, too busy processing the threat implied by Arthur's seemingly friendly words: I could have brought this up during the meeting, could have forced you and your son to have it out in front of gods and council.

"What is it?" Kane asked.

"Word of your grandfather's impending demise," Leiden said. He turned to Redden, staring fixedly at his face. "Lord Gaian's grown terribly frail over the years, a consequence of his… proclivities. This latest illness has hit him quite hard. He likely won't last another winter now that all the white mages are gone."

Redden didn't react. He wouldn't give Arthur that satisfaction.

Leiden waited, but then sighed in disappointment. He shrugged, stepping around the table and toward the door. "I'll leave you to discuss your futures. I need no answer right away - the old man's not dead yet, after all."

Kane stared after him as he left, motionless, as though he were entranced. When Arthur closed the door behind him with a soft click, the spell broke. Kane turned to Redden and asked, "What did he mean?"

Damn you, Arthur, Redden thought. He sighed. He couldn't put this off forever. He motioned toward the stuffed leather chairs at the council table. "Sit down, son," he said. "We need to talk about Melmond's inheritance laws."

Kane's confusion still plagued him an hour later. He'd spent most of that time standing guard outside Orin's door, replaying his father's words in his head while Lena worked her healings.

Kane would be a lord of Melmond.

"You mean I'd be stuck here?" he'd asked.

Redden nodded. "If you wanted to do right by your people, yes."

Kane knew that, of course. He understood about duty, about the honor and obligation that came with nobility. He'd given it considerable thought over the years, when that life had seemed so out of his reach. There was just one problem. "They're not my people!" he said. "They're yours! This isn't my home!"

"I know, son. But I can't abandon Cornelia. My work there is too important."

Redden's tone had been apologetic, sincere. It had only infuriated Kane. Even now, thinking about it…

The door opened behind him. Lena stood there, pale and sweating. She's working so hard, Kane thought, but he could see the sympathy in her eyes.

"Tell me," she said. "Come inside and tell me."

He flushed, guilty and ashamed. "I didn't mean to distract you."

"Your feelings are practically shouting through door, Kane." She shook her head. "It's alright. I can't do any more now. Come talk to me."

He followed her into the room. It seemed Ruby had visited during the council meeting, judging by the tea tray on the nightstand. Lena poured a cup of tea and pressed it into his hands before she sat in the chair by the bed. "Tell me," she repeated firmly.

Kane sighed, leaning against the wall by the door. He told her about the council meeting first, all of it. It was easier to start there, to let his emotions cool before he went over the last conversation again. Still, he struggled to keep the spite from his voice as he relayed Redden's explanations to her.

"But surely the king could find another court bard?" Lena asked when he finished.

"He's not just a bard, though," Kane said. "Third council lord is a high honor. Each king only ever chooses one."

Lena cocked her head. "But Orin-?"

"Was King Fuller's. The title's for life, even if you outlive your king." Kane sipped his tea slowly, worried about crushing the delicate porcelain cup in his fist. "I've always known - all my life - that I would never hold that title after him. I didn't know he had another title I would have to take, whether I wanted it or not."

"But what about our quest?" Lena asked.

"What about it?"

"Oh, Kane! Don't be that way! You're a Warrior of Light! The prophecy-"

"I know," he said, sighing heavily. He crossed the room, setting the teacup on the nightstand before he could break it, and sat carefully on the bed beside Orin facing Lena in the chair. "But we don't even know what that means, Lena. We don't know what we're meant to do. We never have. We're fumbling in the dark here. Maybe father will learn something from the dark mages, but..." He stopped there, uncomfortable as he remembered the implications of torture.

Lena set her own teacup aside, looking ill. He'd told her that part, along with the rest of it. "Couldn't I…" she asked tentatively. "Couldn't I meet them?"

"Lena-"

"I would know if they were evil! You know I would! I could take one look at them and tell you if they… if… if they could be saved…"

"I know you could," Kane said, pinching his eyes shut as a he took a deep, steadying breath. "But you can't go near them. If they learn what you are-"

"It's not as if I plan to cast Cure in front of them!"

"I know," he said, reaching out to take her hands and squeeze them reassuringly. "I know, Lena. But would you be able to stop yourself if they needed it?" He thought of his father blithely admitting he had tortured one of the dark mages to the brink of death. He saw her hesitate. "We can't risk it, Lena. If they took word of you back to their master, we don't know what they'd do to get to you."

Her eyes remained downcast as she nodded.

Kane heard a light knock, but the door opened before either he or Lena could respond. Gabriel Quincey stood outside, scowling.

"Sergeant," Lena said, nodding respectfully.

"I see you've learned to knock," Kane said, less respectfully.

"Shove it," Gabriel said, scowling deeper. "I'm still mad at you."

"I've already told you-" Kane began indignantly.

Gabriel cut him off. "But I'm trying not to be." He ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a frustrated breath. "I spoke with Lord Leiden. I know he agreed with your father to leave me out of your plans. I had no right to take it out on you."

Kane thought about this. "Would you like to?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Is that an option?"

Kane grinned. "Well, you did promise me another round in the training yard."

Gabriel's scowl slowly softened into a half smile. "I did, didn't I?"

"Boys," Lena muttered, shaking her head.

Kane shot her a smirk. "Are you alright here?"

"Fine," she said, but she was smiling now too. "Go! Hit each other! Get it out of your systems." She waved them away, picking up her teacup and sipping from it.

Kane laughed as he bid her farewell.

Lena was still with Orin when the sun rose. Those who fell to night plague were out of danger if they made it through the second night; everyone said so. Nevermind that Lena now knew the so-called plague was in fact the attack of that vile creature, and it seemed likely that those who died on the second night were victims of repeat attacks. Still, even knowing that, she had stayed up with him, watching over him, to see that he lived through the night. Superstitious, perhaps, but she hadn't been alone in it: while Thad had been in and out every few hours, Redden had been with her the whole time, sitting quietly in the corner, watching Orin sleep. When Lena saw the sky brightening outside the window, and the old man still breathing, her own breathing eased: he would be alright.

"Get some rest," Redden said.

Tired though she was, she knew she couldn't sleep, not yet. There were so many things on her mind, and not all of them hers. Instead of heading toward her bed, she headed toward the hedge maze and followed the twisting path toward the frog pond. She needed the water, the quiet. She had no map, and it took her some time, but the wandering became a meditation.

The sun came in at an angle, making the morning dew glitter. She trod through it, enjoying the feel of it on her feet. The frogs sang, stopping only briefly when she arrived at the pond and sat in her usual place on the bank. She stuck her legs in the water with a long sigh, wishing again that it was deep enough for her to dive right in, but it was deep enough for her immediate needs. She let the feel of it wash over her.

She took a deep breath, feeling it catch in her chest, in the knot of pain around her heart that she had been ignoring as she healed Orin. Her elderly friend was safe enough now; she could focus on this instead. She took another breath, exhaling on a sob as she untied that knot, the lingering feeling of loss that was all that was left of Scarlet Carmine. Slowly, the water began to soothe it away.

"I'm serious," Kane said. "If you don't hurry up, I'll drag you. I'm starving."

"So go without me!" Jack said behind him. The mage dawdled on the stairs.

Kane, not one for empty threats, went back and grabbed his shoulder forcing him along. "No way. Do you even remember the last time you ate? I certainly don't. How am I supposed to face Sarah later if I let you die of starvation?"

Jack grumbled under his breath but he said nothing else as the two of them wound through the house toward the kitchens.

It grew louder as they got closer, staff shouting at one another as they bustled about preparing breakfast. Pots clanged. Kane shoved Jack to the corner near Berta's workstation where the head cook stood covered in flour up to the elbows as she kneaded a large ball of dough. The woman didn't smile at Kane, she never did, but she also didn't yell his ears blue as he'd heard her do to her underlings. She nodded toward a covered tray on a counter to her left. "You'll have one each and that's the end of it."

"Yes, ma'am," Kane said as he shoved Jack toward the tray. He folded back the cloth cover, revealing row after row of flakey, golden biscuits.

Jack made an appreciative hum.

"Delicious!" Kane said.

Berta raised an eyebrow. "You haven't tasted them yet."

"I'm assuming they taste as good as they look," Kane said, giving her his most charming smile.

The cook snorted. "Two each. No more."

"Yes, ma'am," Kane said. He muttered to Jack, "And that's how it's done."

Jack looked at him flatly, clearly not as impressed as he should have been, but the mage did grab a biscuit for himself, turning his back on the busy kitchen and facing the nearest wall as he pulled his scarf down and ate.

Kane searched the tray for the biggest biscuit he could find - if he was only having two, he would have to make them count - as Berta spoke to Jack.

"Did you ever find Miss Lena?"

"Pardon?" Jack said, looking at her sideways, the lower half of his face shielded by his shoulder.

"That Quincey boy said you was looking for her this morning. Did he find her for you?"

Jack looked at Kane, questioning.

Kane shook his head. He had no idea what the cook was talking about.

"Excuse me." Jack adjusted his scarf, pressed his unfinished biscuit on Kane, and strode for the door.

Kane sighed. He stuffed the half-eaten biscuit into his mouth - barely two bites' worth - and took one last longing look at the tray before he followed after Jack.

She didn't know how long she'd lingered there before she began to feel like herself again. She splashed water on her face, breathed in the vanilla scent of the water hawthorn. She was watching one particular frog on the opposite bank, its throat thrumming as it chirped, when she became aware of someone out in the hedge maze, someone who hadn't memorized the path and who wasn't in a wandering mood as she had been, for she could sense their mild frustration as they got a little lost. They were making their way toward her, looking for someone, and she suspected it was her that they were seeking, though she didn't know why.

She wasn't afraid - she sensed no menace from this person, no ill intentions - so she kept her seat and waited for the mysterious figure to arrive. It took them so long to reach her - and she was so used to their presence in the back of her mind - that she was startled when the newcomer spoke to her.

"Miss Lena, I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?"

Her cry of surprise sent the frog splashing into the pond and away. She turned to face the speaker, surprised to see Sergeant Quincey smirking at her from the arched entrance to the clearing.

"I'm sorry I startled you," he said.

Liar, she thought. She forced up a smile, then said, "My, you do sneak about."

"Not as much as some," he said. He settled in beside her, legs folded beneath him to keep his boots out of the water. He wore his uniform again today; Lena wondered if he owned any other clothes. "For example, I had to ask three servants and two guards this morning before I found someone who'd seen where you'd gone."

She kept her gaze down at the pond's pebbled floor, tracking the progress of the frog as it swam among the reeds. "It wasn't a secret," she said. "I like the water, that's all." She could feel him watching her, but she could also feel suspicion. It hung thick in the air; Lena was sure if she tried to meet the sergeant's eyes, she would see it floating there between them. "Why were you looking for me?"

He let out a short, joyless laugh. "For the pleasure of your company, of course."

Another lie. She looked up at him then, confused, but the gentle smile on his face contrasted so sharply with the distrust she felt from him. She knew Quincey, knew his soul. He was a good man. Surely he would never hurt her?

"Have you enjoyed your stay in Melmond?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, surprised by the innocuous question. She thought about it, but her thoughts were shadowed by worry for Orin, by memories of Scarlet's grief, and by her own grief over Cole's death. "Well… I… I suppose not. No."

The sergeant laughed again, his voice rich against his stinging emotions. "An honest answer! How refreshing. A noblewoman would have been quick to praise every inch of this gods-forsaken swampland just to be polite."

"I don't mean to be rude!" Lena said quickly. "But… it's just… well, I'm sure I haven't seen Melmond at its best."

"No," he agreed. "That's true. Nor are you likely to. I think our best is behind us. Why did you come here, by the way?"

Lena's quiet misgivings grew louder and louder. "You know why we're here."

Gabriel shook his head. "I know what the Carmines have told me. I've never asked you though."

"I…" Lena started, but then she trailed off. What had the boys told him? What was it Redden had said on the day they arrived? She knew the real reasons they were there - the prophecy and Redden's hunch about Melmond's role in it - but as she tried to recall the cover story Redden had been doling out, her mind went completely blank. Instead of answering, she evaded the question. "I don't know why you expect me to tell you anything different."

His smile widened, genuine at last. A bit of his suspicion faded.

Relieved, Lena returned the smile. "Well…" she said, searching for a way to end the conversation politely. "Do you suppose it's time for breakfast?"

"Perhaps," Gabriel said, standing in one fluid motion. He held out a hand to her. "Let me walk you inside."

She grabbed his hand, but instead of helping her up, he pulled her roughly to her feet. She cried out, stumbled, her arm aching where he'd yanked it. Before she'd regained her balance, he had his arms around her, fingers digging into her back where he gripped her, holding her tightly against his body. She looked up into his face, too shocked to speak.

He was no longer smiling. "I was right," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "You are a white mage."

"I… I…" she stuttered, unable to form a reply.

He chuckled, his lips forming a wicked grin as he bent close to her ear. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. "Any normal girl would have slapped me for taking liberties, but you can't. And you're not denying it, as that would be a lie. So, come now, out with it."

He won't hurt me, Lena thought. He was a good man. He meant her no harm. She could feel it, and yet her heart raced in fear. "Let me go. Please."

His grip remained firm. "Do you serve the Carmines willingly? If they've forced you into this somehow, I can help you."

"No!" she said. "It isn't like that!"

"So you admit to what you are?"

She pushed against him, but she wasn't strong enough to worm free. "Let me go," she said again.

"Not until you say it," he said.

Could she? He was a good man. He couldn't be one of the Brotherhood, hunting white mages for their nefarious plans. But he held her so tightly, it hurt to breathe. What if she'd been wrong about him? Think, Lena. She had to get away.

Arms pinned, she thought back to the defensive maneuvers Orin had taught her on the ship. Barefoot though she was, she stomped her heel into the top of the sergeant's boot, slamming his instep. He cursed, his grip slacking a little. Lena went limp in his arms, letting herself fall straight down. She was on the ground before he'd recovered his wits.

She scrambled away. If she could only reach the maze, she might lose him. But he caught up to her before she'd even cleared the archway, catching her wrist and wrenching it behind her. She cried out, tears springing to her eyes. "Let me go!"

"I can help you!" he said. "I'm not your enemy!"

She could sense the truth of his words, but he was hurting her. She had thought he wouldn't. "Please," she begged, trembling in her fear. "Please, let me go." She couldn't stop trembling.

Shivering. She was freezing. She gasped, the chill air stinging her lungs.

"What in Titan's name?" Quincey whispered, his words appearing as little white puffs in front of him.

Jack stepped into the archway, a dusting of frost on his shoulders. He held Redden's sword, ready to draw, but it was the snow white corona of his eyes that made him seem dangerous.

"You?" Quincey said. He grabbed Lena's shoulders, shoved her behind him.

Protecting me, Lena realized. He really wasn't her enemy. But neither was Jack. "Stop!" she shouted.

But Quincey drew his own sword, threw himself at Jack. Jack, too slow, hadn't even drawn his blade yet.

There was a blur of motion, the loud clang of steel on steel. Kane was there, his own sword blocking the sergeant's. "It's not him you need to worry about," Kane said. He pushed, hard, and with a twist of his wrist, he tore Quincey's sword away, ripping it from the sergeant's stunned fingers to rustle in the bushes off to one side. Kane kicked outward and the sergeant fell, scoring the soft green moss as he went down.

"Damn it, Gabriel!" Kane said. "One minute I hear that you're looking for Lena, and then I find you attacking her? I trusted you!"

Lena said, "Please! Let's just-"

"You trusted me?" Quincey snapped. He backed away in a crab-like crawl, looking between Kane and Jack with betrayal in his eyes. "How do you think I feel right now? You brought a black mage into my city!"

"He won't hurt you!" Lena insisted. "It's in the black mage's oath never to use magic to harm mankind! Jack, tell him!"

Jack stepped up beside Kane, hand still on the hilt of Redden's sword. His eyes were white as a frozen lake. Lena could hear frost crackling around him. "Yes," he said. "But I don't see a man: only a spineless worm who likes to accost women."

"I didn't mean her any harm!" Quincey squeaked. "When I realized what she is-"

"What do you know?" Kane asked, pointing his sword at the sergeant threateningly.

Quincey didn't flinch at the sight of the blade. "I thought… I thought I saw her casting a spell yesterday. Later, I listened outside Orin's door. I heard her talking with you, talking about Curing people." He shivered. The moss crunched beneath him, frozen. "I only wanted to know the truth!"

"How's this for truth?" Jack said, cold flowing off of him in swirling, misty clouds. "If you touch her again, you won't see another sunrise. I swear by every god I can name." Nearby, the shallow frog pond began to freeze, ice creeping across its surface with a sound like dead leaves crunching underfoot.

"Gods, Jack. Rein it in already," Kane said, shuddering.

"Stop! Just stop!" Lena said, stepping between the three of them, raising her hands. "This is a misunderstanding! He only wanted to protect me!"

"What do you think she keeps us around for, idiot?" Kane snapped at the hapless sergeant. He punched Jack in the shoulder. "You've made your point. Cut it out."

"I'm trying," Jack said, voice strained. He crossed the clearing, moving away from them, shivering violently. He closed his eyes, held his arms wrapped around his middle. The cold came from him, but clearly he still felt it. "Not now," he muttered. "Oh, gods, not now…"

"Jack! Keep it together!" Kane said.

"Jack?" Lena said. "Are you-"

She squeaked in alarm as Quincey leaped to his feet and rushed past her, past the distracted Kane, and raced through the archway that led out into the maze.

"Gabriel!" Kane called, but the sergeant didn't stop running. "Damn it!" He sheathed his sword and ran after him.

"Kane!" Lena called.

"I have to stop him!" Kane yelled over his shoulder, leaving her alone with Jack in a widening circle of frost.

Jack stood apart from her, eyes closed, breathing heavily as his body shook with the cold. Lena took a step toward him, her hands outstretched, a Cure ready to cast though her fingers felt like ice. He stepped farther away. "Stay back," he said. "Please."

"Let me help you," she said soothingly.

"You can't," he said, teeth chattering. "You can't heal this, Lena. It's who I am."

"Is this… You mean this is the problem you said you were born with?"

He nodded.

"What is this?" she asked gently.

He opened his eyes then, looked at her through a white corona. "The aether's tied to my emotions. I couldn't- That is, I… When I saw him hurting you…" He shook his head. "I can't do this."

She almost stepped toward him again, but she stopped herself. "Emotions?"

No, that couldn't be right. She still couldn't feel anything from him. She couldn't feel anything but cold. She called up her soul sight, focused it on Jack, and then she closed her eyes and focused harder, stretching her senses beyond the bounds of her body.

She concentrated, digging deeper than she'd ever dared before. It felt wrong, invasive, and she nearly gave up, but then there it was: emotion leaping about inside him, impossible for her to identify through the walls of his mind. But she could see it, tightly held like a frog in a fist squirming to get out. She gasped. Somehow, she could see the aether twisted up in it, emotion and aether tangled together like seaweed in a net.

At last, she said, "You can't control it?"

She felt a ripple of embarrassment that he either couldn't or didn't bother to hide. "I would have thought that was obvious at the moment…"

"You were angry because… you thought he was hurting me?"

"Oh, gods, I miss my coat," he muttered. He turned his back on her, hunched over as he huddled in on himself for warmth. "If you could just give me a minute to compose myself-"

"I thought… I thought you didn't like me…"

The temperature dropped further but she felt shock from him like a hot iron brand as he turned to face her again. "What?"

She rubbed her arms against the cold and she forged on. "You told Lord Redden you couldn't tolerate my company."

His eyes widened. "That's…! I didn't mean- My lady…" A shiver rocked him from head to toe. "Ramuh strike me down," he said through gritted teeth as it passed.

"This?" she asked. "You meant this?"

He looked at her through that white corona, his eyes bright as winter starlight though he stood hunched and broken. "My lady, I really can't have this conversation with you right now."

He did have feelings for her... She couldn't feel what he was feeling, but surely this meant he did, didn't it? She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, caught him in her arms before he could back away again. It was like falling into a snowbank; he was so cold.

"Lena! Please, I can't control it!" he said, voice breaking in his panic.

"I don't care," she said. She tried to look up at him but had to blink as snowflakes fell in her eyes.

He whimpered. "You're making it worse!"

"I don't care," she said again.

"Lena!"

She shook her head and tightened her hold.

She felt something shift in him, something inside, and then she felt… a resignation, a misery, a brief and incandescent joy. He groaned, but he returned her embrace at last, long arms folding around her, pulling her in.

She couldn't feel his embrace. Her body was numb from the cold. She couldn't stop shivering.

Neither could he.

She was too cold to stop him when he pushed her away. "I can't," he said, panting as though from a great effort as those walls sprang up between them again. "I can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't."

There was a rush of air, a sound of ice cracking. He was gone, Teleported, and she was alone beside the frozen frog pond. A blast of warmer air rushed in to fill the space he'd left behind. The warmth of his absence seemed stifling.

"Gabriel!" Kane called. The moment he left the clearing, the warm morning air hit him like a hot fist. It was early still, not yet as hot as it would be, but contrasted to the blizzard he'd left in the clearing it was like walking into an oven.

He didn't let it slow him. If he lost Quincey in this maze, he might never find him. Worse, he might never find his own way out. He'd tried to memorize the turns on the way in, but Jack had followed Lena's aether trail with such a frenzied determination that Kane hadn't had time to take it all in.

Ahead of him, Gabriel turned a corner. Kane cursed and put on a burst of speed. "Gabriel, wait!"

He made the turn, slammed into something solid and heavy: Gabriel, backtracking. The turn was a dead end.

Gabriel pushed him, throwing a wild punch as he tried to bowl over Kane. Kane felt the wind of its passing a hair's breadth from his ear. Kane kept his feet, pushing back, trapping the sergeant in the green and overgrown corner.

"Stop!" Kane said. "Damn it, just stop, will you? Let me explain!"

"You brought a black mage to my city! My home!" Gabriel shouted.

"He's not one of the Brotherhood, Gabriel!"

"What difference does that make?" the sergeant asked.

"I thought you'd understand!" Kane said, frustrated. "I thought you supported mages!"

"White mages!" Gabriel said, shoving him again. "White mages never hurt anybody!"

"Sure, except when they're necromancers!" Kane said, shoving him back.

"You don't know what it's like!" Gabriel shouted, but then his voice broke. "Watching your homeland decay out from under you? Knowing all of your healers are gone?" He punched out again but Kane caught it easily. There was no force behind it. "Cornelia thrives while Melmond declines," Gabriel said quietly. "You don't know. You couldn't possibly understand."

I'm supposed to be a lord of Melmond, Kane thought. This is supposed to be my home. These are supposed to be my people. But when he thought of spending the rest of his life in this hot, humid swampland, so far from Sarah, he felt only resentment. But Sarah would be the first to tell him his own feelings didn't come into it, not where duty was concerned. If I'm supposed to be a lord of Melmond, what would a lord of Melmond do?

"You're right," he said. "I don't know. Show me."

"What?" Gabriel said, stunned.

"Take me to the West Hills."

Author's Note: 10/5/18 - Am I the only one out there who feels like the slowest slow writer ever? I look at the word count for this thing and think, "Holy cow! Where did all those words come from?" because I sure wasn't aware of them as I wrote them.

But it's all paying off now! We're nearly to the earth cave!

...In two more chapters.