Chapter 23 - Masquer

"Any word from him?"

"No."

At this time of the night, the guest apartments of the Palace were lit by a soft amber radiance. Reflected light from the ornamental fountains outside played a series of silver ripples across the ceiling of Kelart's chamber, as she turned the letter in her hands over, studying the words.

Late as the hour was, Kelart looked as fresh as night frost. At rest, she'd set aside her priestess' robes for a simple white-and-blue gown, the silken fabric caressing the curves of her form. The Ring of Providence caught the light, as slim fingers rose to adjust the golden blossom in her hair - Her brow ever-so-slightly furrowed, full lips pursed in thought.

She sighed. It was a low, soft sound, faintly exasperated; Kelart's shoulders slumped, ever-so-slightly, as she lowered her gaze to the carpet. Staring, unseeing, as if the answer lay somewhere within the rich embroidery.

"...I suppose it was too much to hope for," she murmured, almost to herself. "I'd thought the Palace would hold his attention for a while longer. Clearly, I was wrong."

Seated next to her, I said nothing. With her hands folded on her lap, a cup of tea steaming before her, Kelart was the very image of a lady at ease; Still, I sensed the faintest hint of strain in her voice, the weariness that touched her eyes as she held herself achingly still.

At last, she looked at me. "Can't you control him?" she asked, abruptly. "You told me we could trust him. It's been mere days; Surely he couldn't have lost interest this soon?"

There was an edge to her words, a distinct note of admonition. I shrugged, meeting her gaze; "He's still on our side," I said, putting sincerity into my voice. "Trust me. He'll stay on our side, as long as-"

I caught myself. Too late - I'd already said too much.

"'As long as…?'" Kelart's eyes narrowed, ever-so-slightly. She cocked her head to one side, studying me. "-you never did tell me, Sir Samuel. I'm sorry to pry, but...What did you offer him?"

We'd had this conversation before. Before, with Gustav in the room, she'd let it slide. This time, I didn't think a deflection would be enough. For a moment, I dredged through the uncertain fog in my mind, searching for what to say-

But it'd been a long day, and I was exhausted. Too tired to disassemble, too weary to lie.

"What else?" I said, levelly. "The Interfector, of course."

There was a sharp hiss of indrawn breath. Kelart's face cleared to understanding, then to wonder, and passed through to something like shock. For a moment, she looked stunned.

"The Inter-" she began, a catch to her voice. "Why would you - How could you…I mean, is it-?"

Could we not talk about this? I almost said. It'd felt like a mistake then, and it felt like a mistake now; As Kelart worked through her unalloyed surprise, my unease only deepened.

Seller's regret.

At last, she looked away. "By the Four," Kelart murmured, her slim fingers clasping the holy symbol she always wore. The silver chain rustled, faintly, beneath her touch. "-That's too much."

Her expression was wan, troubled. Somehow - with a flash of intuition - I knew, right then, that she was thinking of Remedios. How only one thing had been able to pull the Commander away from the search for Safarlisia, how Remedios had felt the loss of the blade as acutely as part of herself.

Kelart shook her head, minutely, slowly. Her voice lowered to a concerned whisper: "If you give it up-"

The World Item Samuel had fought for - died for. Something he must have cherished above all others, in the weeks-to-months it'd taken him to make his way through the Platinum Spire. Just thinking about it sent a sharp pang of guilt through me.

"It's just a sword," I lied. "The Holy Kingdom matters more. Life matters more."

I don't think I fooled her. I don't think I fooled myself.

The Interfector was nothing more than a fragment of code - some bored designer's prize to be doled out to the credulous or the invested - transmuted, improbably, into an actual holy sword. To place so much value on something like that...

But I did, and I always would. Offering it up to someone as venal as Wolfgunblood felt like a betrayal.

Watching me, Kelart managed to look skeptical without altering her expression. Like she could see right through me. Like I was made of glass.

With an effort, I tried to put my spiralling thoughts out of my mind. I knew, better than anyone, that regret led nowhere good.

"It's true," I insisted. "Compared to that, the Interfector doesn't matter."

Her voice was relentlessly kind. "But it does matter. It's eating you up; anyone could see that."

I had to laugh at that. A hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same.

If only you knew, I almost said. Almost, for that would have been fatal.

Kelart was wrong, but only because she couldn't imagine the truth. Sometimes, as the world I'd known receded further and further into the past, I wasn't sure if I believed it, either. With each passing day, it felt like this was the way things had always been - How they would always be, from now on.

I wasn't about to let myself believe that, not yet. What had changed before could change again, far faster than anyone might expect.

I'd been complacent before, and it'd cost me Samuel.

Kelart said nothing. She waited, until I had no choice but to meet her eyes. Deep inside them, I glimpsed a quiet concern; for me or for the task ahead, I couldn't tell.

All of a sudden, my head felt like it weighed a million pounds. After Loyts, I'd thought Re-Estize would be a reprieve - Instead, our time in the capital felt very much like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Here and now, however, I had to wonder: How was this going to end?

I cleared my throat. Put some steel back into my voice.

"I've made promises, Lady Kelart, and I keep my word. I won't let the Holy King down-"

Without warning, Kelart leaned into me. Her head came to rest on my shoulder, with a casualness that caught me entirely off-guard - As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I may have made a low sound of surprise, deep in the back of my throat; Kelart didn't seem to notice, her eyes half-closing as a soft sigh parted her lips. The tension seemed to drain from her form, her soft weight radiating a subtle warmth. Somehow, it seemed to course through me, reaching down into the muscle and loosening the knots I hadn't even known were there.

"I-"

"Hush."

How long we stayed like that, I don't know. Only that her hand settled on mine, slender fingers cool against the back of my palm. When Kelart sighed - a slow surrusation of breath - I was acutely aware of something soft yet firm brushing my arm, the lamp's flickering light casting wavering, soft-edged shadows.

"I know how you feel," Kelart said. Low, just above a murmur. "I've been there - A lie in every silence. It's no place for anyone."

After a swift, sharp stab of panic, I realized she was talking about Re-Estize. Kelart tilted her head back, those brown eyes deep enough to drown in; A stray strand of hair caressed my neck, her soft breath tickling my cheek.

It felt like I should say something. Anything.

"How-" I began. Searching for the words, which - inexplicably - seemed to elude me. "...How did you enter the Holy Queen's service?"

"What?" She blinked, wrong-footed. Some of the sharpness returned to Kelart's gaze, as she leaned away to get a better look at me.

Too late to back off; I was committed, now.

I shrugged - lifted my shoulders, really - settling more fully against the overstuffed couch.

"I never knew her," I said. "Everything you've done, you did for her. I just...I want to understand. That's all."

For a moment, Kelart looked defensive. Vulnerable, almost. Her gaze searched mine, hunting for the criticism.

At last, she said - "It was because of my sister." A low sigh, as she looked away. "It was...a long time ago."

She didn't want to talk about it, I could tell. But this felt important, some critical part of her that I should know about. "Go on," I urged - I'd only heard about the Holy Queen from Gustav, and he'd been in his cups at the time. For everyone else in the Holy Kingdom, their adoration of her had simply been a fact of life.

Another hesitation. A working of the jaw. "My honored sister...Remedios has a way of seeing to the heart of things," Kelart said, eventually. "Did you know? She entered the Paladin Order without a term as a squire - the youngest Grandmaster in history. I had my doubts at first, but…"

Kelart's eyes went distant. "Queen Calca - Princess Calca, I supposed - was the most genuine person I'd ever met. I don't think I've ever met anyone else who meant what they said...Certainly not a noble."

She caught the look on my face. "Every court is a den of intrigue, Sir Samuel. The Holy Kingdom's no exception."

I didn't doubt that. Not for a moment.

"She was...radiant, I suppose. Earnest. Her wish was - 'To grant happiness to the smallfolk, and…'"

"-'make a country where no-one will cry'," I finished, and Kelart smiled, ever-so-slightly.

"I see you've been talking to Sir Gustav," she murmured, almost to herself. "Well, Remedios had pledged her sword to the Princess's service. It caused quite the furor, at the time; The previous Holy King had placed the full weight of his support behind her, but...The South had a different candidate in mind. A male candidate, one with a superior claim. Seniority, you see?"

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, her brow furrowing ever-so-slightly. However long it might have been, it clearly still rankled.

I felt moved to ask the inevitable question: "Who-?"

"Prince Caspond."

Ah, I thought. That explained a lot.

She was eyeing me, carefully, from beneath her long, long lashes. Gauging my reaction.

"He was…" Some tremor of emotion ran through her face, but it was gone too quickly for me to identify it. "-He was reasonable about it. An elder son comes before a daughter, but he knew who was better-suited for the throne. His only worry was for his sister, that the burden would be too much."

"...Heavy is the head that wears the crown," I said, and Kelart nodded in agreement. The phrase was alien to her, but the sentiment was familiar. I weighed the thought, turning it over and over again in my mind-

"He stepped aside, didn't he?"

"He did." A deep breath. "He couldn't support her - not openly - but Prince Caspond made his choice clear. But, well, that sort of thing has repercussions, doesn't it? The nobles were appalled by the break in tradition; Some accused the Paladin Order of trying to usurp power. Remedios-"

She shook her head.

I winced. I could very well imagine how Remedios must have responded.

"There was...an uproar. There was talk of secession; the South came this close to threatening war. Everything was at stake; the future of the entire Holy Kingdom. If the beastmen attacked the Great Wall-"

Kelart's voice caught. It took her a moment to continue.

"Yet, we couldn't turn back. Things had already gone too far. I had to commit myself to it, and do everything possible to make sure Lady Calca became the Holy Queen." She raised her chin, looking me in the eye. Daring me to judge her, almost.

"The Princess had decided. And my honored sister was...So eager to see things through. She was-" Kelart trailed off. That thought, it seemed, was not for me.

"We were younger, then. We made it work, but the risks we took - Sometimes, I think about what might have been, and…" Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "The Four granted us their favor, of course. Without it, we would never have succeeded."

She hesitated again, looking at me, as if checking to see if I was worthy of this. I must have passed the test, because she carried on.

"The nobles, even the temples - They were so hidebound. So stubborn. So set in their ways. They had lifetimes of experience, at being at the very top, and...They were so stupid, Samuel. So very, very stupid. Frightened, stupid old men. And the women - the women were even worse. They just...They just couldn't look beyond themselves. Couldn't see anything beyond their own interests."

Kelart grimaced. "It took years. Just imagine...The petty politicking. The clawing for advantage. The constant backstabbing. All the nobles, glaring daggers - Looking down their noses at me. Doing everything they could to set us back." She shook her head again. "I was no better, of course," she said, though she seemed to find no pleasure in self-recrimination. "Ask anyone, and they would say - I was the very worst of them all."

She closed her eyes, just for a moment. "I'm sorry. This is...such a very long answer."

Against my hand, her fingers had gone cold and hard.

"It's fine," I said, keeping my voice level.

Another head shake. "No. It isn't." Kelart swallowed, hard. "Sometimes - Sometimes I wonder whether it was worth it. The Holy Queen's vision...She wanted to do her best for the Holy Kingdom. For the people of Roble. But then-"

Abruptly, Kelart pressed herself against me. Head against my chest, as she spoke. Trapped in history.

"...The Great Wall fell. The Shrouded Prophet, the Four curse him, led the subhumans across it to put the Holy Kingdom to the sword. Prince Caspond is the Holy King, and-"

Kelart cut off, mid-sentence. She was so quiet for so long that - for a moment - I thought she was done. That this was all she would tell me, that she would let me fill in the blanks myself.

"-And I ask myself...Were we wrong? Did we - Did we make this happen? Bring about this...catastrophe? If Prince Caspond was the Holy King from the beginning...Could this all have been averted?" Her shoulders trembled, as she drew a long, unsteady breath. "The Four won't tell me. I don't even know if the Holy Queen is alive-"

Her hand squeezed mine, so hard it hurt.

"They took her. I saw it happen. She was screaming at us, when the Wall came down - Telling us to leave her, to run. To get away." Bitterness in her voice, now. The sting of failure. "How could we? How could we? We tried, but we couldn't even get close…"

She went silent. I knew what came next; the hammering rain of stone, the agony of shattered limbs. The beastmen, hauling them away like so much meat for the butcher.

There was something achingly fragile about Kelart, in that moment. Part of me longed to put my arms around her, to hold her - But that felt like crossing a line.

"I-"

Carefully, I reached up. Ready to slide my arms around her waist, to draw her closer-

But then Kelart pulled away. Wiping the errant dampness away from her eyes, looking down at her hands. I could almost see her defenses - that iron wall of will - rising, like great storm-shields, taking a ruthless grasp on her emotions once again.

She looked down, at her hands. "I've...never told that story. Not before."

Her eyes were still treacherously soft, still moist. It took a moment for her face to set, for the firmness to return to her voice. "Hardly what I expected. You have a knack for making me forget myself - Sir Samuel."

She chuckled. It was a low sound, almost mirthless, but she smiled through it.

"...I suppose I should be grateful. Would you believe - I half-expected you to flee?"

I could see why. I'd placed Remedios as the most dangerous woman I'd ever met, but my guess had been wrong. The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom was like stone: Peerless, unbreakable, unyielding. An unstoppable force.

Kelart was a blade.

And yet, somehow...

I shook my head. "I'm honored by your trust," I said, gravely. Then, with a confidence I didn't feel-

"We'll find the Holy Queen. Reclaim the Holy Kingdom. Set things right." I met her gaze, willing it to be true. "All will be as it was, before. You'll see."

I knew it was a lie, as soon as I said it. I think Kelart did, too.

"Well," she said, at last. "-I would hope so."

Her lips pressed together, as she turned to gaze out of the window. There was something wistful, almost longing, in her eyes.

"You should have been with us at the beginning," Kelart said. "I can't begin to tell you what you missed. Glories, Sir Samuel. It was...such a grand design."

"I'd have liked to see that, I think."

That brief smile, again. "Of course you would have," she said, firmly. As if there was no doubt about it in her mind, whatsoever. "One day, once this is all over - You will. But until that day comes…"

She clasped her hands together, resting them in her lap. "It seems the Four have decreed this a time of trials," Kelart murmured, lowering her head as if in prayer. "The Shrouded Prophet, then this...Ninth Finger. Obstacles, at every turn-"

The priestess released a long, slow sigh. Her brown bangs caressed her cheeks, long tresses swaying lightly. "Both in the same year, no less. What are the odds?" She lifted her eyes, as if contemplating the silver ripples on the ceiling, or something far beyond them. "Word has it that unclean things are stirring within the Forest of Tobe. That the Elf King has taken the field against the Theocracy, once again."

I didn't know what she was talking about, not really. But I could appreciate the sentiment. From the little I knew of it, the world seemed to be descending into a dark and frightening time - Just thinking about it sent a thrill of unease through me.

"If not for you, Samuel - and yes, Ser Wolfgunblood - this would be a dark time for the lands of men. Perhaps that is the way of things; Darkness waxes strong, and light rises to meet it."

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably. In truth, I wasn't sure if things were quite that simple. Whatever artifice had brought me here, I doubted that it was working as intended. There was no rhyme, no reason, to why I'd been chosen - a moment's concentration, and I could think of a dozen people more worthy.

It'd been a miracle. Not for the Holy Kingdom, but for me. To breathe clean air, drink pure water and eat food that didn't taste of resyk...That, to my mind, was more than enough. That was my miracle.

No, I didn't have a hero's mettle; I was old enough to hold no illusions about that.

And yet-

Here I was. Here, and now - the right place at the right time.

"I'm not sure-"

She laughed. A low, soft sound.

"Can you truly say it isn't so?" Kelart asked, regarding me sidelong. "Your arrival was providential, after all. At least for my honored sister, and myself-" I caught her slight smile, even as it wavered. "...wherever you might hail from."

I sensed the question in her voice, and didn't answer. How could I? Even now, I wasn't sure if I understood it, myself.

I didn't think I ever would.

A beat passed, before Kelart lowered her expectant gaze. She sighed, ever-so-slightly, as she smoothed down her gown; I glimpsed the disappointment that flickered across her elegant features, gone as quickly as it had come.

Then-

"Once this is over...What will you do, Sir Samuel?"

Kelart's voice was just above a whisper, now. Distractedly, she toyed with the Ring of Providence - Turning it around her finger, as I'd seen her do before.

I stared at her. Honestly, I couldn't say that I'd given it any thought. Up until now, I'd let the swell of events carry me along. So much of what we did had been about the now, about responding to the immediate threat - I'd been carried by the ebb and flow of events, swept along by the current.

She seemed to take my silence for reluctance. Her head came up, her voice steady: "If it is a question of obligation-"

I shook my head. "No. Nothing like that," I said. "It's just...I'd never thought about it before, I guess. But now that you mention it…"

What would I do? Where would I go? Anywhere you want, a tiny voice whispered, in the back of my mind. Anything you wish.

Grand castles, great forests and ancient dungeons. Ruin, mystery, and wonder.

Away from the Holy Kingdom. Into the mists, and other adventures.

"-Maybe I'll settle down," I said, at last. "Find a good woman. Turn my sword to a plowshare, make a living tilling the earth. Spend my days making wine."

I was joking, and I smiled to let Kelart know it. I held no illusions, when it came to agriculture - I'd seen footage of the great dust-shielded fields where crops were grown. Acres and acres of high-yield crops, swaying towards the empty horizon; the air orange with the continual, remorseless delivery of nitrates and phosphates, all delivered en masse from the grimy berths of hovering flyers.

You couldn't walk through a place like that without a vac-suit and breathing apparatus. Not that you'd want to - If the chem-residue didn't give you cancer, the pesticides would burn your skin off.

"A good woman, you say?" Kelart inquired, turning her head. "Do you actually know any?"

Her voice was mild, but I had the distinct sense of the jaws of a vise ratcheting shut. I eyed her for a long moment, wondering what I'd got myself into. Then, cautiously:

"-I'm open to suggestions."

"Hmmmmm." Slim fingers cupped her chin. "Let me think - I imagine she'll have to be beautiful?"

"Of course," I said. "But beauty's very much in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? They say...every woman's at her most beautiful on her wedding day."

"I wouldn't know," Kelart said, loftily. "I've been assured - by reliable sources - that I'm entirely unmarriageable. Why, I haven't received an invitation for years. Still, I suppose that's reasonable enough. Clever too, I assume?"

"Very much so." I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. "I'm ill-versed in the ways of the world, after all. Without someone to guide me, a firm hand to manage my affairs...I fear I might go astray."

She was trying - so very hard - to hide a smile, now. "Well," Kelart said, mock-serious. "Innocence can be endearing...in moderation, of course. I, for one, find it an indulgence, at best. Perhaps a debutante?"

I shook my head, dolefully. "That would be too much to hope for. Imagine some noble's daughter marrying a landless knight...I couldn't - in good conscience - inflict that upon anyone."

Kelart shuddered. "Oh, yes. A tragic fate, indeed. I suppose she'd have to be an older woman, then. One with no prospects or suitors, but with substantial estates. A rich widow, or a desperate spinster, perhaps. How splendid...That narrows things down considerably."

There was an arch note to her voice, now. "I suppose you'll prefer a homemaker? A woman with a calm and even temper?"

I paused to consider this. This was like the duel with the Warrior-Captain, except I was only vaguely aware of what I was fighting for. But one glance at Kelart told me I was in a match, one way or another.

"Certainly not," I said, at last. "I've heard that a gentleman vintner's life can be exceedingly dull. She should be sharp-tongued and ambitious enough for both of us; I'll need some excitement in my life, after all. Besides, familiarity breeds contempt: I wouldn't know what to do, if we were together all the time."

Kelart clapped her hands together. "I can see it, now; she sounds like quite the shrew," she said, with an exaggerated sigh. "Honestly, I can't see why you'd want to do this to yourself. Still, I have agreed to help you - I suppose we must see this through to the bitter end. Is there anything else I should know?"

I should have shut up. I really should have. But-

"Well...There is one more thing."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? Pray tell."

"I have a weakness for dark hair," I said, firmly. "I'm afraid I can't compromise on that."

"Really?" Kelart said, eyeing me critically. "You surprise me, Sir Samuel - Most men prefer blondes. I'll have you know that in Roble, fair hair is considered a mark of nobility. Dark hair is so terribly com-"

She stopped. There was a sharp hiss of in-drawn breath, as Kelart's eyes widened in belated realization.

"Oh," she said. A slow flush spread beneath her skin; Her lips moved, but no words came forth.

The silence lingered for a moment, then another. She seemed to be looking anywhere except at me, her sleek throat working - But then Kelart rallied, magnificently.

"I'll have to think through my acquaintances," she said, the color coming and going in her cheeks. "It may take some time, you understand - After all, I have a most discerning eye. In the meantime...Perhaps we should focus on more immediate matters?"

I knew a dismissal when I heard one.

"Right," I said, trying to ignore the warmth that coursed through me, that made my palms tingle. There was something pleasantly uncomfortable about the moment, something that circled without taking hold.

"Until then, I'll leave it to you."

"Yes, well…" Kelart cleared her throat, not quite meeting my gaze.

Then, more softly than I'd ever heard-

"-Good night, Samuel."

Beyond the sprawling edifice of Ro Lente castle, the darkness was almost complete.

Lakyus's warning echoed in my mind, but I was exhausted - Besides, it was too late to return to the inn now.

In my absence, the chambers I'd briefly inhabited had been cleansed of all signs of human habitation. Left pristine, freshly-laundered, the bed creaking lightly as I collapsed onto it. Even here, the luxury was palpable; beneath my fingers, the sheets felt like cool, dry ice.

In the arcology, it was never truly dark. Magnesium-yellow lights and diurnal work-shifts meant that each day was a constant, dreary twilight. The constant drone of machinery, the thumping and banging of the water pipes, the white noise of sand scourging the environment-shields…

Compared to that, it was the silence I cherished most of all.

But tonight, sleep would not come.

I lay awake. Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Something Kelart had said - It'd caught in my mind, like a hook. Why, I didn't know.

Gustav, morose but thoughtful:

"Less than two months ago, the Great Wall was still standing. Less than two weeks ago, we were rotting in captivity, like sheep waiting for the knife."

Wolfgunblood's voice was inside my head now, repeating:

"I mean, it's been six months, and I never even thought there was someone else out there."

The fragments I'd gleaned from listening to Princess Renner, as we sipped tea in her parlor:

Four months ago, more than a hundred people died in a single night-

Time moved strangely here. From my count, it was slightly more than a month, perhaps a month and a half, since I'd arrived. One after another, without pause - As if there was an equal and opposing force, for every action. As if…

Like the shards of a mirror, the pieces were falling into place. With a click like the tumblers turning inside a lock, giving way to a truth I hadn't seen before.

No, I thought. No, it can't be-

For every action, an equal and opposite reaction.

Was that why we'd been brought here? To matter - really matter - in the scheme of things? To stand against…whatever the Shrouded Prophet and the Nine Fingers were?

The more I thought about it, the less I liked it. For most of my life, after our mother had died of carcinoma, I'd been responsible for a single other person.

I'd failed at that. Failed Samuel.

And, just like that, an even uglier thought reared up from within: I'd cheated him of his destiny. If he'd held on, just a little longer - He would be here, now. Striding, where I was fumbling my way forward. Then Pavel, Orlando, Jozan and all the rest of the unnumbered dead...

I forced that thought away. Swallowed back the bitter taste of quinine, at the back of my throat. That wouldn't help me, not when I was stuck here, waiting for things to play out, for the moment where all would be made clear-

My breath caught.

Carve the world to fit you.

Erya's words. I'd thoroughly detested the man, but - Here and now - I saw the value in them. I was reacting, waiting passively for what might come; Before, when I'd had no power at all, it was the only way one could hope to survive. Beneath the notice of the Social Police and the racketeers, the culling-gangs and the conscript-patrols that swept through the cities like a swarm of locusts.

But now-

I would never be as strong, as sure, as Samuel or Wolfgunblood. But I could still stack the deck. Ensure that victory was a certainty, instead of merely a possibility.

The question was: How?

I waited, but no answer came.

The morning that dawned was cold, grey and utterly miserable. Beyond the wards of the palace, the chill cut to the bone; I was grateful for the fur cloak I wore over my armor, though my breath still steamed in the air.

As I made my way through the halls, servants had variously bowed or curtsied, seemingly through well-honed habit. I'd been stopped once, by one of the guards; they'd insisted, courteously but firmly, on escorting me to my destination, only relenting once the tall white spire of the distant watchtower loomed out of the snow.

Climb was exactly where I'd expected him to be. This early in the morning, the training area was empty except for his solitary figure - He'd risen before everyone else, and had already set himself at practice.

I'll admit: Seeing him gave me pause. The muscles stood out in his arms, his hands gripping the oversized hilt of the preposterously heavy training blade. As regular as a metronome, he raised the dull iron weight of it overhead, then brought it down, till it almost - but not quite - touched the stone floor. Again and again, slowly accelerating, gaining speed.

I'd seen others drive themselves hard before, but Climb was pushing himself harder than anyone I'd ever known. Harder than the muscle-bound laborers who knew, deep down, that manual work was their only alternative to mandatory nerve-stapling or conscription. Harder than the rad-tainted mutants in the hazard-camps, addicts all, who knew that their survival depended on the anti-rejection drugs that made up roughly half their meager salaries.

Somehow, in Climb's heat-flushed features, I saw a heartless, relentless intensity that surpassed all that.

It took him a moment to realize I was there. Never mind the cold, he was sweating like a waterfall; His arms trembled, ever-so-slightly, as he grounded the training weapon's point, puzzlement flitting across his face as he blinked.

"Sir Samuel?" There was a clank as he lifted the sword back onto the rack, shoulders heaving with exertion as the energy drained out of him. He stiffened, minutely, as if tensing for bad news. "Did something-"

I waved him down. "Nothing like that," I said. Nothing yet, at least. "It's just - There's something I need your advice on. Your counsel, if you would."

Climb relaxed, ever-so-slightly. He reached for the towel, draping it around his neck as he wiped his face clean. Some of the fatigue cleared from his eyes, as he pushed it away with an effort of will. Once he'd composed himself, he nodded for me to go on.

I paused, considering my words. I'd had all night to think about it, and - even now - I wasn't certain if this was the best course of action…

-But every little bit helped.

"I'm looking for-" No, that wasn't right. Better to start again.

"I need a small group of hired swords. Skilled, motivated, loyal - Available on short notice. Not prone to asking too many questions."

He gave me an odd look. "You mean...adventurers?"

God, I could have kicked myself. I shook my head, cursing inwardly.

"No, not quite. I'd prefer to keep the Guild out of this, if possible."

I knew the Guild held a grudge against the Holy Kingdom, for what the Holy Queen had done - Sir Gustav had said as much. To my mind, that was reason enough not to trust them.

No, it was more than that. For what I had planned, I didn't think I could trust anyone I'd met. Not yet, at any rate.

Climb frowned, his brow furrowing. I'd posed him quite the question, I could tell.

"I suppose-" he began, reluctantly, as if he wasn't sure if he should be telling me this.

"I suppose...There's always the Workers."

The Workers. The dropouts and problem children of the adventurer community.

In every system, there were those who simply didn't fit in. Adventurers were no exception; As Climb explained it, most Workers were an ugly lot, the flotsam of various unsuccessful or now-defunct parties. Some were greed-crazed looters looking for the next big score, or so deep in debt that there was no other way out.

Others were borderline social deviants. Reavers, who adventured as an expression of something sick and wounded, because it was the only thing that kept them from murder and assault. The kind of scum who joined armies for the looting and pillaging.

At least, that was the official story. Some Workers simply chafed under the Guild's yoke and crushing bureaucracy, preferring to cut out the middleman. Others had been blacklisted for a variety of reasons, from illegal activity to (in one memorable case) punching the guildmaster in the face.

Compared to adventurers, Workers had no oversight, no safety net - No ranking, other than word of mouth. They took risks that most adventurers wouldn't countenance, because the expected reward was that much higher.

To many, that made them eminently disposable. To others, it made them a menace, a force of chaos in an already-unstable industry. Often (but not always) there was bad blood between them and the Guild, sometimes escalating to the point just before violence.

Ultimately, as with many things, it came down to a simple principle: You got what you paid for.

This early in the morning, the Adventurer's Guild was already doing a roaring trade. Even before the great double-doors had opened, there had already been a line. Winter or not, Annual War or not, the free flow of unfettered commerce went on.

As before, the place was equal parts banking-house and hotel. Adventurers hovered around the double-sided boards, scanning scraps of parchment and vellum for jobs or bounties - the clerks were working at their neat stacks of documents, at their neat desks arranged behind polished wooden counters.

Sheer habit kept me waiting, for all of fifteen minutes. But then I remembered why I was here, and shouldered my way past. Other than a few mutters of complaint, no-one tried to stop me; apparently, we'd left quite the impression, the last time we'd been here.

The receptionist blinked at me, when I reached the front of the line. "How may I-" she began, before her eyes widened in recognition.

"Miss Ronble," I said, doing my best to ignore the murmurs from behind. "May I have a moment?"

I'd never seen a woman leave her seat so fast. The chair's legs squealed against the tiles as she rose, so quickly the fittings rattled. One hand fussed with her skirts, as Isphen glanced over one slim shoulder - "Wina, take over!" she called, and the other receptionist stood up from her desk, her eyes first quizzical, then knowing.

"You owe me for this," Wina said, sternly. Her lips curved in a mostly fond but slightly exasperated smile, though the look she shot me was rather more severe. Isphen didn't seem to notice; "I'll make it up to you - I promise!" she said, a little giggle purring from her lips as she hurried around the counter.

Apart from that flash of emotion, the high color in her cheeks, Isphen was all demure reserve as she met my gaze at last.

"Now, Sir Samuel," she said, a coy lilt to her voice. "Wherever might we go?"

To my surprise, Re-Estize had a wide variety of cafés - Startlingly modern establishments, set along the main commercia. They were universally upscale affairs, with tinted glass windows and ornate golden script on the shop-boards. The delicious scents that issued from within were achingly familiar; Coffee, fresh bread, spices, stirring the very edge of my memories.

As it turned out, Isphen knew the best ones by name.

Even from the outside, Makyatia was a study in understated elegance - Discreetly fashionable, it was mostly empty at this time, being prepped for the late morning trade. The staff, in their liveries of black and gold, seemed glad of something to do, and our breakfast arrived in record time.

I'd seen Miss Ronble eyeing the dessert cart with quiet desire, and I signaled for the waiters to bring the trolley over. "Ice cream!" she'd squeaked, lifting the frosted-glass bowl from the tray. "And Solara eclairs!" Isphen added with a smile, through the crumbs of the first one.

As I sipped iced coffee, I couldn't help but marvel at how delicately she put the tiny plates of cakes and tarts away; Isphen ate with an almost affected daintiness, fork and spoon moving with delicate grace, but substantial speed.

One plate of almond truffles and three canelés later, Isphen set aside her fork at last. "You must excuse me, Sir Samuel," she positively purred. "It's just...I've never been here before. Not with a knight - Wina's going to be so jealous."

Those soft green eyes met mine, a winsome smile on her lips as she tonged sugar into her tea. Miss Ronble blew lightly on the amber surface, fragrant steam curling upwards as she regarded me over the rim of the cup.

"I...wasn't expecting to see you again," she confessed, in that sweetly lilting voice. Slim fingers rose, to rub lightly at her throat - The straight tresses of her pale blonde hair fell arrestingly over one eye, framing the gentle curves of her cheeks and jaw. Isphen's eyes turned downward, beneath her lashes; "I never did thank you properly for saving me, from that - horrible man."

Ser Autumn, I thought. Wherever he was, I hoped he'd found a kind of peace, at least.

She hid it well, but I could sense the slight tremble to her voice. I didn't blame her in the slightest; In an eyeblink, she'd come a lot closer to death than she could ever have expected.

That made two of us.

"Anyone would've done the same," I said, and she blinked at that - As if honestly surprised by that conceit. "You're recovering well, I hope?"

"I-" Isphen's breath caught. "It was a shock, but...the other girls, they've been nothing but kind. Wina's always fussing over me, but she means well - It won't even scar."

From the way she bit her lip, I could tell it'd been preying on her mind, for some time now.

When she lifted her gaze to meet mine, I glimpsed the suggestions of a blush, beneath her smooth skin. "Were you...worried for me?" she asked, soft and suddenly shy, her eyes sliding to one side-

I cleared my throat. Wondered, for a moment, if I might be going too far. But then again…

"A gift," I said, presenting the small nacrewood box I'd prepared for this moment. "I saw it, and...Well, I thought it might suit you."

A light gasp. Isphen's eyes widened, as she undid the clasp - Her slim fingers trembling minutely, as she lifted the necklace free. The chain was gem-studded orichalcum, the pendant a carefully-shaped green gemstone that glowed with a light of its own. Like everything I'd brought from Yggdrasil, it was a little too large to be real; an artist's stylized idea of treasure, never mind that it was (inevitably) destined for a vendor's bottomless stores.

At her momentarily starry-eyed look, at the slow, lingering glance she gave me, I felt guilt squirm in my guts. Not for the first time, I wondered how this made me any different from Wolfgunblood-

"I...I can't possibly accept this," she murmured, already clutching the box to her bosom. She canted her head to the side, a heartbeat later. "Can I…?"

"It's perfect for you," I urged, feeling every inch the imposter. "Miss Ronble - Please, consider it a token of my appreciation."

Heads were turning, as her face went red. I kept my smile fixed: It was all so very clever, so very judged, and I hated myself for it. The chain slipped through Isphen's fingers, as she bit her lip - the morning light was well-placed to make the jewels scintillate, her eyes reflecting the cold gleam of the gems.

"Ninety points, definitely," Isphen whispered, at the very edge of audibility. So quietly I knew I wasn't supposed to have overheard. As I watched her, there was a subtle shift to her poise - She drew a slow breath, gently arching her back in a motion that was almost imperceptible, to bring her breasts pressing lightly against her blouse, drawing my eyes.

"If - If it's not too much to ask…" Her voice was a caress, now. "-Would you care to help me...Put it on?"

I dragged my gaze away. Let my eyes dart left and right, aware of the attention we were attracting. "Perhaps later," I said, as mildly as possible, and Isphen flushed all the way to her ears; She withdrew, sinking back into her seat. I saw the flicker of self-recrimination in her eyes, and winced inwardly-

That's the difference between us, I told myself. I wasn't doing this for myself - I was doing this for the Holy Kingdom. To save lives.

I refused to let myself wonder why.

Isphen broke the lingering silence, her expression faintly hurt. "W, well - If there's anything I can do for you, Sir Samuel…" she began, slowly, as if wondering whether she'd missed a cue.

I almost sighed in relief. Almost.

"As it happens...There is one thing," I said, and felt another sharp stab of guilt at the way her eyes lit up. "Tell me - What do you know of the Workers?"

"The 'Workers'?" she echoed the words, her green eyes thoughtful - Frowning, ever-so-slightly. Wrong-footed, once against; She hadn't expected me to ask her that. Isphen touched a slim finger to her lips, the way she'd done with her pen - I could almost hear her mind shifting focus, the gears turning in her head.

After a moment's consideration, she went on. "The Guild does keep track of them...some of them, I think. Though, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to tell you-"

Her expression sharpened, ever-so-slightly. "...Why, is it important?"

"I'm just curious, that's all," I lied. "How might one find them? The ones in the capital, I mean."

Isphen's eyes widened, minutely. "I'm - I'm not sure, but…" she began, trailing off - Only to start, momentary realization flashing in her eyes. "There is one. Just a day ago...Such a nice man, but with such a funny name. He kept asking about the temples; I didn't know quite what to make of him-"

I couldn't immediately form a decent response to that.

"He dressed like...Oh, like a priest? They all do look so very much alike, you know."

"Miss Ronble," I asked, carefully. "-Do you remember his name?"

"Oh, yes. I remember now…"

A slight breath.

"-Roberdyck. His name was Roberdyck."

Next: Foresight