Chapter 26 - Before the Storm

Now:

In the fullness of winter, the graveyard was a bleak, grey place; the wind moaned through the trees, crumbling gravestones lining the road in uneven rows. Several priests - shivering in their somber black robes - wandered past the anonymous markers, pausing now and again to study the oldest ones.

In Re-Estize, cemetery space was at a premium. Faced with a deluge of the dead, King Ramposa II had passed an edict, stating that once time and the elements had made the name on a grave marker illegible, the soul could safely be said to have moved on to their final judgement.

The cemetery-priests tended the field for years, until the names could no longer be read. When the time came, the now-anonymous corpses would be exhumed, the remains buried in a communal pit, and the plots reused for a new carrion-crop. Deeply morbid as the concept was to me, it seemed far better than being part of a Salvager's quota…

-To be harvested for resyk.

We'd spent money we didn't have to spare our mother that fate. Looking back, it'd been the only decent thing we could do for her.

"It's certain, then? Tomorrow, you say?"

Roberdyck's voice was low, thoughtful, as he stared past the tombstones. For a moment, his expression was distant, as if looking at something only he could see.

I couldn't blame him, not really. Considering all that hung in the balance, just thinking about it tied my stomach into knots. I kept my face impassive, my voice carefully neutral; Projecting a confidence I didn't feel in the slightest.

I'd had my doubts about how to go about this. The night had been a long and sleepless one, my thoughts whirling endlessly through my head. It'd taken an effort of will to fall asleep, and it had been absolutely no comfort to awaken refreshed. I was beginning to wonder if I even needed sleep, now: Increasingly, I had the feeling that - like my inability to get drunk - it was a feature of the body I now inhabited.

I'll admit - I didn't miss it. I didn't miss waking up with a throat like sandpaper, with a myriad of aches and pains all clamoring for attention. No hacking cough from dust-choked air, no ever-growing numbness in my side, the one that I prayed wasn't the first sign of a tumor. But it made me wonder what else had changed, when this had become my reality.

Distantly, I wondered if Wolfgunblood knew what we'd gained. He was too young to truly appreciate it, I think: Muscles with the supple flexibility of youth, no pain in the hip and shoulders, perfect vision. A sword-arm faster than lightning, and the strength to go with it.

Maybe that was why he'd adjusted better than I had. He'd still had the rest of his life to grow into; I was more than twice his age, and already beginning to wear out. I don't mean just physically, but mentally. The endless hand-to-mouth scrabble had narrowed my focus, turned each day into a struggle to see the next one. Now that was gone, forever, and I was still struggling to find my footing.

I'd - miraculously - lost a full decade, but my mind was still the same as before.

I was still me.

Wasn't I?

"-Grandmaster?"

I blinked. Roberdyck's glance was expectant, still waiting for an answer; I drew a deep, steeling breath, coughing into a balled fist to cover for my lapse. White mist plumed in the air, swirling like incense in the bitter cold.

I'd been calm in Loyts. I'd never hesitated, not for a moment.

Why couldn't I be calm now?

"Tomorrow," I said, aware that my stomach was churning. Not for the first time, I felt a pang of kinship with Gustav: I had the sense that Remedios was a woman with neither patience nor understanding for failure. "You'll be in position?"

Roberdyck grunted. He glanced at me, sidelong.

"Hekkeran made the arrangements," he said. "There's a place three streets away, which caters to - They, uh, rent rooms by the hour…" The cleric's voice trailed off, as his gaze slid away. It took me a moment to realize he was blushing, beneath his neatly-trimmed beard.

"Three streets...That's a bit far." Further than I'd have liked. If things went wrong, I needed them on the scene as soon as possible - Too far might mean too late.

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "We decided to err on the side of caution. Any closer, and we'd get spotted early. We'd be no good to you then, Grandmaster."

"Samuel," I said, automatically. I could have kicked myself: I hadn't even thought of that.

"Sir Samuel, then." Roberdyck lowered his voice. "I might be speaking out of turn, but...This is different from what you're used to, isn't it? Forgive the presumption, your Lordship, but Hekkeran is the very best at this. I'll trust him with my life - I have trusted him with my life. We've been doing this for years, now. The number of scrapes he's got us out of…"

He shook his head. "-Well," he finished. "In truth, I've lost count."

There was something wistful in his gaze, as he stared out across the burial field. "We've been through a lot, Sir Samuel. Sometimes, when I look back at it...I thank the Four we're still in one piece."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered what Roberdyck thought I was used to; I supposed he was thinking of cavalry charges, knightly duels, the open battlefield. Not countless hours spent in front of a glowing screen, silent except for bouts of hacking coughs and the patient clack-clack-clack of keys…

"And the others?" I had to ask, remembering Imina's constant frown, Arche's near-quiescence. "-What about them?"

He winced, just a little.

"They're cautious, that's all. Imina...Well, it takes her a while to warm up to people. Prefers to keep her mind on the job, that she does. As for Arche - Why, she's the best caster I've ever worked with. Third-tier spells, at her age! She was the apprentice of Great Fluder himself...You couldn't hope for more."

Roberdyck gave me an expectant look, as if that was endorsement enough. In that, he would be disappointed; I had no idea what he meant, but I nodded anyway, as if I did.

"That's good enough for me," I said, at last. "-Be ready, if I give the signal."

I still had Lady Aindra's bird-talisman. Rober had reassured me that their caster was entirely capable of receiving a message; If the need arose, I'd contact them directly. That was the plan, anyway.

The cleric sighed, some of his gentle good humor fading. "You're a dour one, Sir Samuel. If you don't mind me saying so, that is." He glanced at me, evidently hoping for a reaction, then shook his head. "We won't let you down, never fear."

A pause, then a slight chuckle. "In truth, I think Hekkeran's hoping for a chance to put his new swords to use. Almost seems a shame not to, given what you're paying us..."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I said, watching as the acolytes wove their way between the graves. I wondered how many more would soon be home to new occupants, for a fraction of eternity.

"-that's what I'm afraid of."

Then:

Hilma had been good as her word; At a glance, the sheaf of documents she'd produced seemed both sufficiently authentic and impressively detailed. A brief page-through of the slips of parchment had revealed neatly tallied expenses, columns of figures that bore out the truth of the night to come. And, more damning - The Viscount's signature, authorizing it.

None of it, of course, would hold up in a trial of his peers. Not unless we snared the man himself.

I wondered, fleetingly, how it felt to be the subject of such antipathy. I'd never met the Viscount - I only had the vaguest idea of what he looked liked - but I was playing a role in his downfall, all the same. He had no reason to suspect that the Blue Roses, the Crown, even his own mistress, had all turned against him; If all went well, he would remain blissfully, blithely oblivious of it all until it was far too late.

If someone was plotting my downfall, I liked to believe that I would suspect something. See it coming, somehow. But then again - How would I know?

It wasn't a pleasant thought, not at this juncture. But then again, something about the capital - or simply being this close to the seat of power - seemed to foster an air of paranoia. The nobility lived and breathed intrigue, and played at it the way others would play at cards or dice.

Or chess, perhaps. Chess with blood.

My first instinct had been to head right to the Blue Roses, but even then I knew that would have been a mistake; Instead, I'd taken the carriage back to the Heroes' Hearth, then walked the rest of the way.

The entire time, I'd been half-expecting a dagger in the back.

At this time of the day, Kelart had been taking tea on the verdana overlooking the castle gardens; that riot of green, isolated from the cold beyond the palace's walls, never failed to strike me as miraculous.

"Sir Samuel," she said, eyeing me over the rim of her cup. "-I trust you bring good news?"

At a glance, I could see that she hadn't been alone. I caught a whiff of perfume, noted how the second chair was ever-so-slightly askew. Other signs, too; A trace of crumbs scattered on the plate, a whiff of manly cologne and cognac-

Prince Barbro had been here. As I'd suspected, he wasn't a fan of tea.

The folio's leaves rustled, faintly, as I set it on the table. Kelart nodded, her pale fingers almost white against the leather binding, barely sparing it a glance.

"-Is it everything we asked for?" she said, her gaze meeting mine. Her carefully serene expression never wavered, as if we were speaking of nothing in particular. I wondered how she could stay so determinedly calm, in the face of what would come next - Just thinking about it tied my guts into knots.

I nodded. "We'll need to confirm it, but...Yes. Yes, I believe so."

She exhaled. Slowly, almost but not quite relief. Her eyes squeezed shut, just for a moment; When Kelart opened them again, a steely determination gleamed in those brown orbs. For a moment - Just a moment - she looked very much like her sister.

"How long do we have?" she asked, fixing me with that level look.

"-Two days." I strove to keep my voice impassive, but I could feel my shoulders bow under the weight of that simple utterance. There was no going back, not now - One way or another, things had been set in motion. After an eternity of waiting, it was hard to believe there was urgency, once again; That time, once unfurling at its own leisurely rate, was now hurrying briskly along.

"Two days…"

There was a clink, as Kelart set her cup down on the saucer of delicate eggshell porcelain.

"-Not long, then. Not long at all." She mulled over this for an instant. "Almost too convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"How so?"

"A day would be too short. A month, too long. A week would have been perfect. Two days is just enough for a hasty, ill-timed response…" A sigh. "-Well. We'll just have to make do."

I shifted, uncomfortable. It'd crossed my mind, too - Two days was almost no time at all. But then again…

"At least we'll be done here, and soon," I said. "Another month of this...I'm not sure I could take it." With the looming threat of war hanging overhead, Re-Estize was setting my nerves on edge; One way or another, I longed for this to be over.

Kelart made a low, non-committal sound. Her lips curved in the faintest smile, as if something had just come to mind.

"Is Madame Cygnaeus enjoying her gift?" she asked, casually. As if it hardly mattered.

"She's still wearing it, if that's what you mean," I said, shortly. I hesitated - This was something I wasn't really comfortable with discussing. "I don't think-"

The flicker of Kelart's fan cut my words off, like a blade.

"I was wondering, that's all," she said. "My curiosity's satisfied, now. It's over and done with, Sir Samuel. Think nothing of it." Kelart's smile was entirely innocent, but the hard-edged glint to her eyes never faded. It did soften, a heartbeat later, as she waved at the empty chair.

"Please, have a seat. You look like you've had quite the experience."

Gratefully, I sank into the proffered seat. The hard-wood furniture, intricately carved, was cool to the touch, the cushion overstuffed in classic Re-Estize fashion. As Kelart poured tea with a deft twist of her wrist, I selected a scone from the rack; It was fresh, well-buttered, and I devoured it in three bites.

"How are things with the Crown Prince?"

Her smile turned wintery. "-What do you think?"

"...Not well?" I ventured, reaching for an unidentifiable - but crisp-looking - pastry. This one was filled with sweet almond paste and seasoned with cinnamon, so rich it was almost cloying. The tea was a welcome change, full-bodied and robust; the smoky, tarry flavor cleared the sweetness from my palate, and it was a challenge to sip it rather than gulp it.

Kelart made a low sound, not quite a laugh. "'After the Annual War', he says. 'The threat to Re-Estize comes first'. He's been using that one for weeks, now - You can't believe how many times I've heard that. After that, it'd be 'Once I'm King', I don't doubt." She sniffed, tapping her furled fan against her chin. "He's had an excellent tutor, though fairly one-note. I suspect Count Lytton's hand in this...It seems like his style."

"Jesus," I muttered, and Kelart gave me a quizzical look. I carried on, to cover my lapse. "So - There's no chance of help from the Crown Prince?"

"It's funny that you say that," she said. "Sir Samuel...Are you aware that we're not the only nation seeking aid from the Crown?"

That got my attention. "Really?"

"Indeed. It seems the Shrouded Prophet's reach is further than we initially thought. Apparently, the Dragon Kingdom has problems with the subhumans, too…"

Her voice trailed off. "There's a delegation from Queen Oriculus, headed by one of their legendary fox-eared women. Supposedly, they're the world's greatest seductresses...Given how little the Dragon Kingdom has to offer, I'm not surprised they led with that. The delegation's been here for almost six months, now..."

I had the distinct sensation we were headed into treacherous ground. Carefully, I cleared my throat - "Go on," I said, as delicately as I could manage. "How, ah, are they doing?"

"Well, the ambassador is pregnant. I suppose that's something."

I nearly choked on my tea. "Then-"

"Oh, Marquis Raeven handled it. The ambassador's ship leaves at the end of the week...The timing's most providential, too. She's already showing - Any longer, and things would be embarrassing to all involved, I don't doubt."

Kelart finished her tea, poured herself a fresh cup. Her spoon clinked as she stirred, breathing in the fragrant steam. "My guess is, promises of future aid were made, in return for their abrupt departure. The best way to avoid a scandal, especially at a delicate time like this."

She spoke clinically, matter-of-fact. Only the slight curl to her lips betrayed what she really thought. "Not that anyone would believe a demi-human, of course. That kind of thing simply isn't done - Prince Zanac knows this, or he'd have already brought it up."

I thought of Ran, of how hard he'd fought for us, and said nothing.

It was then - right then - that something clicked into place.

"Kashan-" I began, and faltered. I quite liked the old smuggler; I didn't want to make trouble for him, unless absolutely necessary. But Kelart, with the raise of a slim eyebrow, waved for me to continue.

"...He's taking money from the Marquis, isn't he?" It was a shot in the dark, an intuitive leap, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. "That's how he knew about Loyts. Knew about me, so soon-"

Kelart smiled. Fondly, this time. As if dealing with a dim but promising student, who'd shown a flash of insight.

"Don't be too hard on him," she said, softly. "Kashan lost nearly everything during the invasion. At a time like that...A man can't be faulted for turning to older loyalties."

There was special emphasis on faulted, as if to highlight how it wasn't forgiven.

"I-" It took me a moment to formulate a response to that. "...You knew the whole time, didn't you? That's why you brought him along."

Her slim shoulders lifted in the slightest shrug. "Did you think we needed his expertise when it came to buying grain?"

I mulled over this, my mind working. There was more, I could tell.

"Then - The duel with the Warrior-Captain…"

She glanced to the side. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Marquis instigated it. Sir Stronoff should have been at the King's side that night, not the Crown Prince's. Prince Barbro dislikes him - Why, I can't imagine...But it doesn't speak well of the Crown Prince's judgement."

A pause. "My guess is, Marquis Raeven suggested that the Warrior-Captain's presence would lend him an air of legitimacy. He is the King's bodyguard, after all. King Ramposa has yet to weigh in on the dynastic struggle...Sir Stronoff's presence would make it clear who the heir-apparent is, in case anyone's forgotten."

As if I needed a reminder that Marquis Raeven was an exceptionally dangerous man.

"But he spoke out against it-"

"As Wiseman of the Thirteen Heroes said, 'Kill with a borrowed knife'. The Marquis has no love for his counterpart - Boullope has too much influence over the Crown Prince. Half the Court saw you and the Warrior-Captain glaring at Marquis Boullope; That counts for something, in martial circles. Besides...How else could he confirm that Kashan's report was true?"

Suddenly, I was glad I was sitting down. I felt my shoulders slump, as I stared at Kelart for a long, long moment.

"...Are you well, Sir Samuel?"

I realized, belatedly, that my mouth was open, and shut it with a click.

"I - I just…" I shook my head, searching for the words. "Just...Does this get any easier?"

Her laugh was low, soft, and almost sympathetic.

"-Only if you learn to enjoy it."

"It seems, before all this, that the brothel was once an old merchant's palace," Lakyus said, calm calculation to her voice. "Stone-built, like most of Re-Estize; the original owner wanted it to last."

Things were beginning to move with startling swiftness, now - the hours ticking away, one by one, towards their fatal conclusion. Princess Renner's opulent quarters hardly seemed like the place to discuss matters like this, but - according to Kelart - she'd insisted on being informed.

"According to the plans, the compound has only one entrance, the main door. The building is fenced in on both sides, with the river at its rear."

Even out of her armor, Lakyus cut a formidable figure. Her pink gown caressed her form in silken folds, but it only belied her focus as she ran fingertips along the windows of one side of the scale model. She'd conjured it with a few murmured words, the image springing to life as she passed her hand over the polished wood of the table - It was the most surreal thing I'd ever seen, and I couldn't look away.

"The door's solid steel. Bolted from the inside, no doubt...Though it's uncertain if anyone ever enters by the main entrance."

There was a remarkable poise to the Third Princess, as she listened intently; Princess Renner's limpid blue eyes were wide, almost round, beneath the fall of her silky blonde hair, a child held rapt by a terrifying story. Climb, her faithful shadow, stood at her side - He was riveted, too, his gauntlets clenched into fists.

I felt a distinct pang of sympathy. The Princess had been drawn into this plot at Prince Zanac's behest, just like we had. If things went wrong, she'd be subject to the consequences at much as anyone. More so, perhaps - We were outsiders here. This, however, was her life.

I wondered if she had any inkling as to what she was involved in. Probably not, from my guess - to the Third Princess, this was all a brief bout of storybook intrigue, a relief from the tedium of her courtly duties and the inevitability of a political marriage. One look into those wide, innocent blue eyes, and you could tell, instantly; She had no conception of the stakes we were playing for.

It was hard not to feel protective of her. Sheltered as she was, there was an innocence to Princess Renner, one that had yet to be tarnished by the realities of life. Climb, I think, wanted to preserve that - To be her shield against all harm. I had to admire his dogged resolve, even as I acknowledged the impossibility of his task. At some point, there would be no place for him in her life.

What would happen to Climb then?

With an effort, I put it out of my mind. I couldn't think about that, not now.

At my side, Kelart stirred. Her hands, folded on her lap, were so still they almost trembled.

"That can't be the only way in," she murmured. "How would they…?"

Lady Aindra nodded, once. "We think that there are other entrances in the adjacent buildings," she said. "Or a cellar exit-"

"That's the one," Gagaran said, punctuating her words with a stab of a meaty finger. Unlike Lakyus, her gown did nothing at all to soften the hard edges of her form; It was, to my mind, like gilding a battle-axe. Accentuating what was already impressive, while doing absolutely nothing to disguise the lethality of the cleaving edge.

Her chiseled features contorted in a scowl. "Half of the place is underground. Inside, it's one giant rat's nest - I'd bet Fel Iron on that." She flexed her fingers, as if she wished the giant war-pick was in her hands. I could see why - I had absolutely no doubt that a well-timed blow from her could bring down half the building.

"We can't be sure of that," Lakyus said, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "It seems the building's undergone an extensive refit, in recent months." Her blonde hair, gathered into golden curls, swayed restlessly as she turned her head. "Why, we're not sure...The interior could have been completely changed. Rebuilt from the ground up, even."

Visibly trying - and failing - to imitate Lakyus' focus, Princess Renner leaned towards the model. "...How long ago, do you think?" she murmured, clearly fighting the urge to touch the slowly rotating illusion.

Climb cleared his throat. "About five months, Prin...Renner," he said, looking visibly abashed in such rarified company. She beamed at him, fluttering a hand in thanks; Kelart, I couldn't help but notice, was giving them (but mostly Renner) both an odd look. Not used to the familiarity, it seemed - But then again, she didn't know Climb like I did.

He was doing all he could to keep the Third Princess informed, to help her comprehend something utterly removed from her gilded existence. You could tell, at a glance, that it was almost incomprehensible to her, even as her brow furrowed with adorable concentration. The Princess nodded, as if it meant something to her, easing back in her chair with her curiosity apparently satisfied...

I blinked. It was an odd coincidence, but something about that...It sounded familiar.

"Lady Aindra," I said, choosing each word carefully. "Five months ago...Wasn't that shortly after-" I lowered my voice, to spare the Princess' sensibilities. "...the massacre?"

"Around the time the Eight Fingers became Nine, too," Gagaran rumbled, resting her chin on a brawny fist. Her eyes widened, ever-so-slightly. "You don't think…"

"That the meeting is brokered by the Ninth Finger?" Kelart said, as smoothly as if she'd rehearsed it. "It's possible - But it doesn't change what we're facing." Her gaze settled on Lakyus and Gagaran, as she straightened. "What...forces do we have available?"

There was a careful emphasis on the word that didn't elude me. In truth, I'd sat out on most of the planning, while the details had been hashed out; I was dimly aware that there was a larger, coordinated effort. That the capture of Viscount Fondoll was a mere part of a greater plan.

"It has to be someone with royal authority," Lady Aindra said. "It can't be Sir Stronoff - He's too close. The King can't be seen as taking sides in this." She frowned, just a little. "And...We'll be elsewhere at the time. The others are stretched too thin as it is-"

"And it'd be impossible for Climb to go in and take them out on his own…"

"-I'm...sorry I'm not strong enough," Climb said, bowing his head. He sounded like he'd been kicked in the heart.

"Oh, Climb…" Renner's voice was low, soft - Her hand settled on his, with the natural compassion of a child. "You know we didn't mean it like that. I know how hard you work for me...But please, please don't do anything reckless. If anything ever happened to you-"

Her voice caught. She had to look away, dabbing at her eyes with a silken handkerchief.

"Princess," Climb began, with a kind of agonizing, embarrassed calm. "I - I would never…"

His cheeks burned, the flush spreading down his neck as he tried to fight it down. In his place, I couldn't have helped it, either.

It's a hell of a thing to learn that everything you are simply isn't good enough.

"-I'll go with him."

Heads turned. When Gagaran lifted a weighty eyebrow, I realized - belatedly - that I was the one who'd spoken. "I'll go with him," I said again, like a living echo, as if to remind myself that I hadn't imagined saying it.

I rose, glad for the moment's grace it bought me. I let my hand rest on the Interfector's pommel, drawing strength from its presence. "It's past time I did something useful," I said, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "If you'd care to give me the chance…"

I looked at Climb. Let the smile soften, into the kind of quiet confidence he needed.

"-I can't think of anyone else I'd rather fight alongside."

I saw his back straighten - Saw him stand a little taller, a little straighter, as my words registered. Climb nodded, just once, not trusting himself to speak; But through the crack in his facade, I saw that brief, blink-and-you'd-miss-it, flash of emotion that made him seem even younger than he was.

Younger, but achingly determined all the same.

The room had gone silent. I took in the tableau; Renner, her hand at her mouth, a melange of emotions on her delicate features. The careful, measuring look to Kelart's eyes, as if this, too, was acceptable. Lakyus, frowning faintly as she glanced at the Princess - As if, just for a moment, she'd been vaguely unsettled…

But it was Gagaran who broke the silence.

"Well," she said, a small smile dawning on her craggy features. "-It looks like you're in good hands, Climb."

Interlude

"He's eager to please, isn't he?"

"That's only to be expected. He *is* mine, after all."

"If you say so."

"Yours is well-trained, too - But not as wonderful as my Climb, of course. Tell me, where did you find him?"

"..."

"-Interesting. You don't know, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not while our interests are aligned."

"Can Climb deliver the result we require?"

"He'll die before he fails me. It's one of the many, many things I cherish about him."

"-I see. That was hardly the question, however."

"It is an answer. Isn't that enough?"

"...You're not worried?"

"If Lakyus died...that would be inconvenient, yes. But that's no longer a concern, is it?"

"No."

"I shall rely on you, then."

"With your leave, your Royal Highness."

"Good night, Lady Kelart. Oh, one more thing."

"-Yes?"

"You may have leashed him, but...Do take care not to be snared, too."

Climb grunted and shifted his weight onto his left leg, as he put his full force into the swing. His longsword whistled over my right shoulder, as I sidestepped - He brought his shield up, but I hooked my heel around his leg and pulled, dropping him to the straw mat with an "Ooof-" of escaping breath.

"Good," I said, offering him a hand up. He shook his shield free, grasping my wrist as I pulled him to his feet; From the way he was panting, his chest heaving like blown bellows, he'd really been giving it his all. "You almost got me, that time. If you'd led with the shield…"

My voice trailed off, as I remembered the distinct crunch of my nose breaking. Maybe it was for the best - That wasn't an experience I wanted to repeat.

Ever.

In truth, I was impressed. I had an unfair advantage in skill and speed, but Climb learned fast. As far I could tell, he never made the same mistake twice; If you let your guard down around him, he'd make you pay for it. He didn't have the Erya's effortless lethality, or Gazef's implacable offense, but I'd have given him good odds against anyone who wasn't Remedios.

Then again, I only had so many people to compare him against.

This time, the sparring session had been my idea. Climb had kept his expression carefully measured, almost impassive, when we'd been left to our own devices - But I could he was brimming with nervous energy, all the same. If I hadn't offered him a chance to work it off, he'd have spent the entire night pacing.

I know I would have.

At this time of the day, with the sun lowering beneath the horizon, the watchtower's training room was mostly empty. It was easy to see why; Stone walls or not, it was cold. The good cheer of the mess hall would have been infinitely preferable, to any of the guards.

"As I thought - I'm no match for you, Gran...Samuel," Climb said, a little ruefully. He'd brightened when I'd offered to practice with him, but he was sombre, now. Emotion flickered in his blue eyes, as he set his jaw. "You don't have to hold back on my account."

That caught me off-guard. "Hold back?" I echoed. "-What makes you say that?"

Now he looked embarrassed. "When you fought Sir Stronoff-"

I shook my head. "Not the same thing," I said, taking a sip from the waterskin that hung from the stand. Cold, clean water - But they'd added crushed mint and powdered lemon to it, which gave it a refreshing bite. It gave me a moment to think, as I drank; I offered the waterskin to Climb, and he shook his head. Still waiting for my answer, I could see.

"It's been a long time since I've fought a human," I said. "I'm the one that's rusty. You're the one doing me a favor, not the other way round."

Climb relaxed, ever-so-slightly. Some of the tension unwound from his shoulders, as he hung his longsword from his belt. "...Is it really that different? Fighting beastmen?" he asked. It was an honest question - I could sense him hanging on my every word, for every scrap of information. He hid it well, but the prospect of what was coming…

-It was enough to put anyone on edge.

"It's-" I began, searching for the words. "-Imagine fighting something that doesn't let up. Something with no restraint, that fights entirely on instinct. It doesn't need skill; It's stronger, faster, than a human could ever hope to be. Once it has the scent of blood, it doesn't care if it's hurt. It hungers for the kill. Craves it."

There was a bitter, coppery taste in my mouth now. "We're livestock to them, you know. No, worse than that - Prey. It's what they live for, the killing and despoiling...I don't think there's anything they enjoy more."

I remembered the stench and screams of the camps. The capering figures, horned and hideous, the ashen-white skulls stacked in neat pyramids. "And there's never just one of them; there's always dozens, hundreds, like vermin. They can smell weakness, too. The moment you let your guard down, that's when they go for your throat-"

Some of the color had drained from Climb's face. I realized, belatedly, that I'd said too much; I'd rattled him, though he tried not to show it. His Adam's apple bobbed, his blue eyes going distant as he turned this over in his mind.

At last, he said, quietly - "...You hate them, don't you?"

"I-"

Footsteps, approaching. Climb straightened, instinctively - "Captain Stronoff," he began, as I turned. Spared the need for an answer, I couldn't help but feel something like relief.

"Climb," Gazef said, then inclined his head in a brief nod. "-Sir Samuel."

He paused at the edge of the mat, one moment in the shadows of the stone walls, the next in the yellow oblongs of light cast by the stone windows. The Warrior-Captain hadn't changed, from the last time I'd seen him; this time, however, I could tell that something was up with him. At his unwavering gaze, Climb shifted uncomfortably, as if caught out.

When Gazef broke the silence, what he said caught me entirely by surprise.

"Perhaps you'll care to join me for dinner?"

The Warrior-Captain's home - a two-storey house, of whitewashed brick - should have seemed too large for him, if the man himself wasn't larger than life. Rather, his presence filled the place with a solidly martial spirit. Everything about it was built to last, with good oak bones and a stone chimney - Reassuringly solid was how I would have described it, with an unadorned sturdiness that somehow put you at ease.

I had the feeling that his quarters in Ro Lente were much the same; It seemed like something about Gazef's nature molded the places around him to fit, rather than the other way round. Perhaps as a kind of instinctive compensation, he'd added a few touches of his own. A stretch of wall held hanging scrolls inscribed with calligraphy, while another bore the portrait of an older man, white-haired but still powerful, his hawklike gaze perfectly captured on the canvas.

Climb's breath caught. "Is that-"

"-Master Di Laufen," Gazef said, and I heard the respect in his voice. "My teacher." He rubbed at his chin, his haversack slung over one shoulder. "I owe him a debt - If not for him, I suppose I'd be a mercenary, now."

The satchel settled to the dining table with a low thump, as he opened it. With measured, efficient motions, he lifted out small parcels wrapped in waxed paper, setting them to either side.

"A hamper was sent down to reward the Royal Select," he said. "The men had away with most of the drink, of course." It was quite a spread - Cold meats, bread and a round of rindy cheese, roast potatoes, a steaming stew of beans and pulses cooked in a strong stock, a heavily-spiced dish of long grains topped with soft cubes of what looked like cottage cheese.

It all smelled amazingly good. Until then, I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

We sat down, on either side of the table, and began to share out the food. I sliced the block of cheese into neat portions, as Climb set the table - Gazef pulled the cork plug out of the solitary wine bottle, and poured measures into the waiting cups.

It was an oddly domestic scene, little puffs of flour dust rising from the loaf as I carved slices from it; Enough to send a pang through me, as I tried to remember the last time I'd eaten together with Samuel.

Even before the incident, we'd taken our meals apart. Not deliberately, given the nature of our shifts - Most of the time, I had just enough energy left to thaw freeze-dried protein squares or set a soup mix on the boiler (usually resyk) before collapsing into bed.

The past is another country, I thought, as I sipped my wine. It was, I supposed, inferior to what they served in the palace. Not that it made a difference to me.

We ate. The stew was good enough that I ladled another bowl for myself, the potatoes fragrant with garlic and pepper. Gazef, I noticed, didn't touch the cold meat, contending himself with bread, cheese and stew. Climb, for his part, ate like a young man - Filling his plate, eating quickly, slowing only when the initial pangs of hunger had been sated.

"You live alone?" I asked, passing a jug of water to Gazef.

"I have a housekeeper," he replied, "She does the cooking, most of the time. She's visiting relatives - I encouraged her to take a few days off."

I had to agree. The capital's lustre had worn off, for me; The longer I stayed, the more thoroughly and utterly corrupt it seemed. In two days, Re-Estize would take on the essential character of a battlefield.

The Warrior-Captain seemed to sense my thoughts. "It's confirmed, then?" he said, adding a slice of cheese to his hunk of bread. "Two days," I said, and Gazef nodded back.

"Captain-" Climb said, sounding anxious. "Shouldn't you be with the Royal Select? If we're imposing-"

He waved Climb's concerns away. "I gave them the night off," Gazef said. "They've been battling tedium and anticipation long enough. They need the rest; Better to have them fresh and in high spirits, for what's to come. They're no use to anyone fretful and worn-out."

Gazef glanced at me, and I glimpsed his meaning; the same went for Climb, too.

And me, I supposed. I could see the wisdom in that.

I finished my wine, reached for the water instead. "Gazef," I said, carefully. It felt strange to refer to him so casually, almost disrespectful - It would be a while before I got used to it. "-Is something on your mind?"

His eyebrows rose. For a moment, he looked surprised, as if it hadn't occurred to him before - But then Gazef smiled (ruefully, I couldn't help but think) and placed his cup next to his half-empty plate.

"Carne Village," he said, at last. A shadow passed across his features, his brow ever-so-slightly furrowed, now. I glanced at Climb, but he showed only alert incomprehension, too.

"I'm...not familiar with that place," I said.

"No reason why you should be," Gazef said, his expression troubled. "It is - or perhaps I should say was - northeast of E-Rantel. Close to the Great Forest, in fact. A day's ride, two on foot."

Climb nodded, as if it meant something to him. The Warrior-Captain lowered his voice, as he went on.

"A few months ago - Before that business in E-Rantel with Ser Wolfgunblood - there were rumors of Imperial troops in the area. Nothing concrete, but it came from a reliable source. Not quite the Empire's style, but…"

He trailed off, frowning. I had a sense he'd been mulling over this for some time.

"By the time we arrived, it was all over. The villagers were less than forthcoming; from what I gather, a caster had saved them. Repelled the entire incursion by himself, no less - Sent them fleeing back the way they'd come."

"Really?" Climb said, his interest piqued. "All by himself? That's..." He caught himself, as if embarrassed that his curiosity had got the better of him.

"I'm not certain, but I think he was on the level of the Empire's monstrous casters. It was a substantial force; At least five dozen knights, with support - Magic, too. Quite a force to take a small village. From what I heard, there wasn't enough of them left to bury. Whoever their savior was, he did a thorough job."

Something, circling without taking hold.

"Did you meet him?" I felt compelled to ask. I could feel a flicker of intuition - like a dim bulb struggling to come to life - scratching at the back of my mind, trying to make a connection.

Gazef shook his head. "He'd gone into the Great Forest, and he wasn't expected back. We would have stayed, but I had the sense we were unwelcome. Not that we could afford to remain; If it'd been up to me, we would've waited for him, but…"

He must've sensed my next question. "They said his name was 'Lusypher'." Gazef pronounced it haltingly, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. "-Or something like that, I believe."

And I thought - Really?

It sounded like a joke. Like the kind of name a kid would-

My eyes widened, as finally - finally - something kicked in. And I thought: It can't be-

...Can it?

"This...Carne Village," I said, carefully. "-It isn't far?"

Something glimmered, in the Warrior-Captain's eyes. Sympathy, maybe. "Ah," he said, a note of regret to his voice. "I should have begun with that. The village doesn't exist any more."

"...What?"

"It's been destroyed, Sir Samuel. We just received word - It was wiped off the face of the earth." He sighed, a slow, pained sound. "Almost a month ago, I believe. It took that long for the news to reach the capital. It seems that their reprieve - such as it was - was a temporary one."

My heart sank.

"All those people…" Climb murmured, his eyes narrowing. "So he couldn't protect them, in the end."

"He shouldn't have needed to. It's the duty of the nobles to protect the smallfolk, especially at a time like this. If the Nobility Faction-"

Gazef caught himself. He poured another measure of wine into his cup, the bottle glugging slightly as it sloshed. "...I've said too much," he murmured. "This wine, it's making me maudlin. I meant to say - Life is precious. That's what gives it meaning."

Those broad shoulders shrugged. "A warrior should raise his sword in the defense of life, not to destroy it. That's a burden no-one should bear."

His gaze settled on me. "Keep an open mind, Samuel. Hatred does nothing but cloud it."

It was good advice, but unusually pointed. Under that steady, calm gaze, I couldn't help but bristle, just a little.

"I see," I said, "But, Sir Stronoff...I have to disagree."

"Back to 'Sir' again, are we? Fair enough - I spoke harshly. Well, let's hear it."

Climb's blue eyes flicked back and forth between us. I could sense his unease, his expression settling back into a carefully impassive mask.

"I think," I said, quietly but coldly, "-the world would be an infinitely better place without the subhumans in it."

Gazef shook his head. "It's not the beastmen I'm concerned for," he said, a hint of reproach in his voice.

"-Think on it, Grandmaster. That's all I ask."

After that, it seemed there was little left to say. Gazef never mentioned it again, but I could feel the weight of his disappointment. Absurdly, I felt the urge to apologize...But I held my tongue. What would be the point?

I'd already said too much.

The rest of the meal passed in an uneasy silence, each of us lost to our own thoughts.

Two days, I thought.

In two days - one way or another - all this would be over.

Next: The Hollow House