– Eight Book 3 –

Undaunted

by

Samer Rabadi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Copyright © 2023 by Samer Rabadi

Cover art by Tithi Luadthong

www.samerrabadi.com

For Mary, my heart now and always.

I’m grateful for the communities on Royal Road and Patreon for their support. They’ve kept me writing when things got hard.

Dear reader, every book is a journey. Thank you for joining me on this one.

Table of Contents

The City of Albeityel and its Surrounds

Cast of Notable Characters from Eight 1 and 2

The Story Thus Far

1. The Hunt Begins

2. Blood Tells the Tale

3. A Gift to the World

4. A Family’s Care

5. Hidden Strengths

6. In the Woods

7. Cutter Hawks

8. Two Villages

9. Healing Water

10. Changing Directions

11. Forced Truths I

12. Forced Truths II

13. Albei and Its People

14. Hunters Do What They Must

15. Albei and Its Ghosts

16. A Dangerous City

17. The Realization of Mistakes Made

18. An Unfair World

19. Crunei’s Garden

20. A Friendly Spar

21. The Truth Seen Clearly

22. Stronger Together

23. Grim Resolutions

24. Questions and Their Answers

25. Introducing a Complication

26. A Reunion

27. Negotiations, Expected and Unexpected

28. A Surprising Grace

29. Mercies and Agreements

30. A Long-Awaited Introduction

31. The Hunters’ Judgement

32. Kicking the Pyramid I

33. Kicking the Pyramid II

34. If at First You Don’t Succeed

35. Third Time’s the Charm?

36. Another Cell, a Different Interrogation

37. The Midnight Munchies

38. Steps Along the Way

39. Making a Splash on Festival’s Eve

40. The Unexpected Entrance

41. Here Comes Trouble

42. Here Comes Trouble II

43. The Tournament Continues

44. The Sum of Steps

45. A New Path Forward

46. Homecoming

47. The Long Dark I

48. The Long Dark II

49. The Long Dark III

50. The Long Dark IV

51. Nine

52. Perspective: Mulallamu

53. Perspective: Aslishtei

54. Perspective: Xefwen

The City of Albeityel and its Surrounds

Cast of Notable Characters from Eight 1 and 2

Earth

First Family

Alejandro Sandoval, grandfather

Catalina Sandoval, grandmother

Gabriel Sandoval, father

Anne Sandoval, mother

Miguel Sandoval, younger brother

Miguel Sandoval, uncle

Second Family

Helen Corben-Sandoval, wife

Alejandra (Alex) Sandoval, daughter

Daniel Sandoval, son

Diaksha

Third Family

Aluali Eightsson

Biheila, widow, aka Bihei

Billisha Eightsdaughter

Felix, a blynx kitten, son of Sun-on-Snow

Ikfael, donut-loving spirit of the land, her avatar is an otter

Oscar, a blynx kitten, son of Sun-on-Snow

Sun-on-Snow, a blynx

Yuki, a uekisheile

The Village of Voorhei

Bindeise the Sugar Maker

Denela, married to Haol, aka Dena

Dwilla the Reeve

Ghitha Woldecsbrother

Jeseidatchei, a war dog, aka Jesei

Koda the Village Head

Musastacha the Dog Rider, aka Musa

Sheedi the World Speaker

The Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge

Benseisu, on Kesa’s team, aka Ben

Borba the Murderer

Grunthen the Hunter

Haoleise Kielegsson, on Mumu’s team, married to Dena, aka Haol

Inneioleia the Hunter, former master of the lodge, aka Inleio

Integnei, on Mumu’s team, aka Tegen

Kesalei, hunt leader, aka Kesa

Mulallamu the Lodge Master, hunt leader, aka Mumu

Teila, the other apprentice on Mumu’s team

Woldec the Hunter

Albei

Agath of Dolbec’s Rock, a mercenary

Banan of Albei, a hunt leader

Imsiikila the Wise, a merchant, aka Uncle Kila

Knight Ithia, the land knight overseeing the region around Albei

Kuros the Spear, on Banan’s team

Otwei the Hunter, on Banan’s team

Moon of Dolbec’s Rock, a mercenary

Tusulei the Builder, aka Aunt Tulu

Others

Leiluminwei, a spirit of the land, his avatar is a great egret

Moonlight, a wolf beloved of Leiluminwei, his pack includes: Chomper, Mouser, Scout, and Swift

The Story Thus Far

Our journey began with “Eight,” where Oliver Sandoval, an office manager and sometime documentary film producer, reincarnated into the body of an eight-year-old boy in a fantastical world. Supported by the teachings of his brujo grandparents, the fallen god of order, and a magical otter named Ikfael, Eight navigated the treacherous landscape, learning to tap into the World Spirit—aka the System—and embrace his newfound magical prowess.

In his new home, the Glen, perils emerged from a variety of gruesome creatures, including a troop of crazed bishkawi, baboon-like beasts who drove him into a network of caves under a nearby escarpment.

Lost and searching for an exit, Eight stumbled across the zombies of a massacred expedition. Led by the now-deceased Woldec, these lost souls had sought a valuable lichen, only to have run afoul of the King of the Forest—a kalihchi bear with a talent for wielding lightning.

After having put the zombies to rest, Eight found the sought-after treasure, and bonded with a sapient lichen—a unique entity with potent qi mastery. Initially rocky, their alliance enhanced Eight's magic, granting him the strength to face his adversities.

Newly armed and returning from the caves, Eight rescued two children, Billisha and Aluali, from slavers. This act marked the beginning of his understanding of local civilization and led to the successful retaking of the Glen from the bishkawi. Thus, the first seeds of Eight’s new family were sown.

In "Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter," Eight ventured to the nearby village of Voorhei, searching for ingredients to satisfy Ikfael's newfound craving for donuts. This simple quest led him to the village's leadership, where his extraordinary talents resulted in an invitation to join the local Hunter's Lodge.

Under the guidance of the lodge master, Inleio, and working alongside a team of hunters led by Mumu, Eight honed his skills and navigated the village’s politics. Although, his journey took a sudden turn when he was gifted the ability to see beyond the veil of life and death by the Deer God, an earth spirit from his old life.

When Eight uncovered a murder mystery linked to a powerful hunter named Grunthen, it forced him into a dangerous game of secrets and deceit involving Ghitha, Woldec’s brother, and Borba, another hunter.

Amid the tension and mystery, Eight strengthened his bond with the hyper-intelligent lichen, now going by the name Yuki, and the two worked together to uncover Borba’s role in the murders. As punishment, the ever-practical Inleio forced Borba to absorb darklight, forcing his advancement in levels but also twisting him into a monster.

Inleio also requested Eight’s help to strike a deal with Ikfael for the otter’s Healing Water spell. As the newly assigned keeper of her shrine, Eight fulfilled his role despite the expected ire of the Healer’s Lodge in nearby Albei. The spell had kept him alive, and it would do the same for the lodge’s hunters.

Eight trained relentlessly and investigated the magical world around him. He learned the lodge’s spells—officially and unofficially—and tamed a blinking lynx named, Sun-on-Snow. The Glen’s family grew when she and her kittens moved in.

The climactic confrontation with the King of the Forest tested Eight's resolve, culminating in his temporary death and the blurring of the line between life and death. Ghitha's attempt at vengeance afterward resulted in the man’s downfall and the return of his mercenaries to Albei.

Also heading back to the city was the merchant, Uncle Kila, to represent Eight’s interests there—the sale of magical lichen and the remains of the golden slumber, a deadly mushroom that had been instrumental in the kalihchi bear’s death.

Finally, a semblance of peace had returned to both Voorhei and the Glen.

As we move forward into our next volume, we reflect on Eight's journey: his tribulations, growth, and the intricate dance of life, death, and the magic in between. And like the people of his adopted home, we can never forget—the Long Dark is coming.

1

The Hunt Begins

Death swept over the darkened forest on silent wings—an owl invisible to all except for my spirit eyes. With a tilt of his wings, he landed on the strongest branch of the oak across the glade from me. Finally, we’d lured him out on our second night waiting for him.

Giant Owl (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Shadow Wings, Hidden Hunter, Grab ‘n Go, One with the Night

Even though the owl was the size of an ostrich, the pale light of the tree’s branches obscured my sight. Still, I caught a glimpse of the owl’s head swiveling to examine the area. The open space in between was filled with dried grasses rustling from the windy, autumn evening; I stood at the glade’s far end, pretending to be unaware of the owl’s presence. Behind and around me, a team of hunters lay in waiting.

It was a tactic from the bishkawi playbook: stick a member of the troop out in the open—preferably one who appears weak but is actually strong—while the rest hide and prepare to ambush the intended target. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling being used as bait, but I couldn’t complain... since it’d been my idea.

The damn owl had been overflying my home, the Glen, for the past week, and he needed to go away permanently. He hadn’t grabbed anything or anyone from within the territory yet, but it was only a matter of time. So, I’d asked Mumu for help, and she’d agreed.

The hunt for the giant owl had even been sanctioned, becoming a part of the Hunter Lodge’s biweekly efforts to reduce the number of threats to Voorhei. We were farther west from the village than we normally culled, but as the lodge master, Mumu was able to grant permission, and her mentor Kesa agreed.

The first day of the hunt, we’d found signs of the owl in a glade northwest of the Glen and set up the ambush. When he hadn’t appeared, we rested during the day, then tried again the next night.

I assumed my team alone should be enough to take down the owl, since most of his abilities seemed to be related to going unseen and unheard. I couldn’t help but worry about “One with the Night,” though. My Status camera didn’t provide tooltips, so it was up to me to interpret others’ talents based entirely on the names. Odds were that the owl was skilled at hiding at night, like when I became one with the land but only effective after dark. Or... Maybe he’s a blood drinker, and the name is a vampire-movie reference? What do you think, Yuki?

The uekisheile nodded in reply—the qi equivalent, anyway. ‘Or it’s like Ikfael’s talent for merging with water and stone.’

That’s... well, that’s a terrifying thought. Is that even possible, merging with an abstract concept like the night?

‘Is the land abstract?’

Not to me, I thought, then licked my lips as I noted the owl’s attention narrowing to the tasty tidbit out in the open field. A chill ran down my back, as if death himself was watching me. You’d better signal Snow, just in case. Let her know I may need saving.

‘Done. She’s hiding in the grass with the other hunters. The Blink emulator is also ready.’

I hadn’t felt their attention shift to the blynx. With Yuki's Multi-Threaded talent, they’d become increasingly adept at thinking one thing while doing another. I, on the other hand, was pretty much stuck tackling tasks one at a time. While Yuki had been casting Iron Heart and Collaut’s Hide on my behalf, I’d gathered my mana and brought to mind the runes for the Spark spell. I let myself fill with the feeling of potential and allowed it to build until my body-heart-spirit was nearly full.

Suddenly, the owl launched into the air, and for a second the pale light of his wings covered the moon. My breath came faster, but I held myself still. I was the hunter here—only pretending to be prey—and I had my allies with me: Yuki, Snow, Mumu, Haol, Tegen, and even Teila. They were all present and ready to defend me.

The owl dove. I only had enough time to get a word out, “Now,” before the owl filled my sight, his claws aiming to grab and lift me away. All around, qi swirled as the waiting hunters prepared their attacks. My mana connected to the Spark runes and shook—the potential turned into a glowing brand of skyfire, which I pointed at the owl towering over me. I closed my eyes as the world turned briefly light. Then, the air cracked with the sound of multiple Spiral Pierce spells, and I heard the thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk of arrows hitting as well.

I opened my eyes to see the owl shuddering on the ground. He was visible now; the Spark spell had stunned him and disrupted his abilities. More qi swirled, as a second round of arrows punched into his body.

Inside me, Yuki let go of Collaut’s Hide and cast Dog’s Agility in its place. The spells were incompatible, and speed was more important now that the owl was grounded. I snapped up my spear, pushed qi into a fast Spiral Pierce, and thrust. The spearhead penetrated the feathers over the owl’s breast, sinking about a foot deep. Then, the owl batted his wings, and I was buffeted away. Arrows dotted his body, yet he continued to flap in an attempt to take off.

The steady thump-thump of steps came from my right, and Tegen came charging in. His spear punched through the area where the owl’s left wing connected to his body. The owl went sideways in response, partly from the force of Tegen’s blow, and partly from the right wing’s frantic efforts to lift the owl into the air.

The hunters in the grass must’ve shifted position, because their next volley of arrows shot in from a new angle. I held myself back while they peppered the owl. His feathers protected him more than I’d expected, so I waited for a weak spot to emerge. I had time—Tegen’s spear was firmly lodged in the shoulder area, so the owl wouldn’t be going anywhere. Meanwhile, Tegen retreated to retrieve another weapon.

Haol used the opportunity to shift into high gear, and I heard the tell-tale twangs of his rapid-fire, Dog’s-Agility-fueled shots. The owl moved unpredictably, so I thought he might use his new Thousand Arrows spell, but he chose instead focus his fire, clustering enough arrows in the breast to create the opportunity I was looking for.

I cast Bear’s Strength, and the qi within me spun near-instantly through the requisite patterns. My muscles bulged with qi. Then the spell’s scent doubled as Tegen re-joined the fight. A quick look told me that he’d borrowed Haol’s spear, and together we charged.

Tegen wasn’t able to run three spells at once, so I slowed my Dog’s Agility to match his timing. Our Pierces were just about to hit when the owl suddenly shrieked and vanished. Not just from regular sight, but from my spirit eyes too.

All the arrows that had previously pierced his body, as well as the spear that had been lodged between his wing and sternum, all fell to the ground, almost as if the owl had teleported. There’d been no mention of a blink-type ability among his talents; Yuki must’ve been right in their interpretation of One with the Night.

“It’s a transformation ability,” I yelled out.

Tegen and I moved back-to-back to watch each other’s blind spots, and my spirit eyes revealed Mumu and Haol standing over Teila to protect her. There was no sign of the owl—not until I looked up. He was in the air, spiraling out of control, trying to fly with a damaged wing but failing.

“There,” I said, pointing, and then started to pursue.

This time, I didn’t wait for Tegen. There was no way I was letting the owl get away, and I ran with the other hunters following behind.

I’d only used one mana spell so far, and my tank had enough for five more, so I called the Spark runes to mind again. The lightning responded and illuminated the glade with the bang bang of two spells cast consecutively. The owl dropped from the sky.

I didn’t want to let go of my concentration on the Spark runes, so I thought to Yuki, Spiral Pierce, and they spun qi around my spear in response. The resulting thrust penetrated deeply into the owl’s breast, but when I tried to set up another attack, I realized my spear was caught inside. So, I let go and shot the owl with Spark once more—bang—and the spell was immediately followed by Tegen barreling into him.

The impact shoved the owl back a good ten feet. He shrieked again, but didn’t vanish this time. I cast Spark another time, just in case, and the spell dazed him. That was when Mumu and Teila came running out of the grass; they drove their Spiral-Pierce-enhanced spears into the owl. A cluster of four spears stuck out of his breast, and that was apparently too much for him, because his spirit finally dimmed and his ghost disconnected from his body, moving to the side and floating there.

I thought I might need to say a prayer to move him along, but a few seconds later, the owl’s ghost shuddered as if heaving a great sigh and vanished. His body, meanwhile, lay still on the ground.

Haol moved into view with his bow drawn, covering us in case the noise of the fight drew anything to the glade. The other hunters all retrieved their weapons and watched the area as well. I pried my spear loose from the owl’s body and waited alongside them.

"Injuries?” Mumu asked.

Starting with Teila, the hunters reported their condition. No one was hurt, but they’d spent all their qi. I was the only exception: “I’m fine and have enough mana for one more spell. My capacity for qi is almost full, though, since it was Yuki doing most of the casting.”

‘Snow’s fine too,’ Yuki said. ‘She almost jumped in when the owl took to the air, but you Sparked him before she could.’

“Looks like we’re all good,” I said.

Mumu sighed, and I saw the tension leave her shoulders. “I don’t like being surprised. How did the owl vanish like that?”

“I misinterpreted something I saw in his spirit,” I said. “I thought it meant one thing, but it turned out to be something else entirely.”

“Something like your Blink spell?” Mumu asked.

I didn’t hear any recrimination in her voice—just a desire to know. She was responsible for the wellbeing of Voorhei’s hunters, and learning about the dangers posed by unusual talents was part of her job.

“Functionally it's similar, but the way it works is different. Blink is a straight-up teleport, but the owl’s ability let it transform into the night, effectively becoming incorporeal for a time.”

That seemed to shock everyone present; all the hunters reacted.

“Such a thing exists?” Tegen asked.

“We just saw it in action,” I said.

Mumu shook her head. “We were lucky, then. If we hadn’t stunned him at the beginning, then hurt him enough to cause him to flee, the owl could’ve toyed with us.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It just didn’t occur to me that he could take on the qualities of an abstract concept. I mean, I’ve seen others turn into water, stone, and even qi, but the night?”

“It is more than passing strange,” Tegen said.

Mumu nodded along. “I don’t remember anything from the lodge’s records, but I’ll check when we return to Voorhei.”

None of the hunters seemed upset with me, but I was still pissed at my lack of imagination. This world had turkeys who shot heat beams. There’d been a musk ox with the power to burst his enemies with blood. There weren’t really any limits to what was possible—at least not any I’d seen.

Mumu must’ve read my expression, because she patted me on the shoulder. “Now we know, and we’re alive to share the knowledge with our brothers and sisters. That’s enough.”

She didn’t say anything after that—none of the hunters did, just kept an eye on trees until enough time passed that we were sure no creatures had been drawn to the area. Altogether, it was about half an hour of quiet surveillance.

Afterward, Teila and I assembled a travois and began to dress the owl. There was enough meat on him to make it worthwhile to transport the carcass back to Voorhei. The plan was for us to overnight at the Glen and head to Voorhei early in the morning. We’d smoke the meat once we were back at the village.

As we worked, Tegen quietly explained that the eyes were the most prized parts of giant owls, followed by the skull, and then the claws. Apparently, some people used the bones for wind instruments, but the market for them was much smaller.

He was interrupted by a soft whistle.

Mumu whistled in response, and Kesa’s team walked out into the open. They must’ve been successful in their hunt too, because three of them each had a couple of fire badgers tied together and draped over their shoulders. Their clothes were singed in places, but I didn’t spot any injuries.

I looked questioningly at Ben, the magic-user on their team, but he responded with a quick shake of the head. None of them were injured and needed healing.

Mumu and Kesa huddled for a few minutes to share information, but nothing got passed to the rest of us. We were effectively done for the night.

We had a decent moon in the sky as we traveled to the Glen—waxing about half full—but shadows covered everything under the forest canopy. A couple of lanterns lit the way for those without magic. Inside each was a candle stone, and shutters focused the light spilling out.

The wind rustled through the leaves, and sometimes the bushes shook as something small scurried nearby. Whatever the creatures were, they didn’t disturb the forest spirits any, nor did they seem interested in us. On a few occasions, we paused to make sure it wasn’t anything dangerous, but nothing hostile came into view.

The spirits in this part of the forest were quiet—although not sleeping, mind you. Instead, they watched us pass by with a sort of detached interest, like we were a curiously shaped cloud or a distant memory half-remembered. I examined them in return, since my team relied on me being able to spot disturbances before they became visible in the material world.

The spirits illuminated the landscape, lending a pale glow to everything around me. In the season that had passed since the kalihchi bear hunt, I’d grown accustomed to the view, so I didn’t need Yuki’s help or Dog’s Agility to process the sights, emotions, and memories my spirit eyes brought me.

Particularly dense experiences were still easier to handle when merged with Yuki, but for the most part, I didn’t stumble or wobble anymore. And my team had learned to trust in my eyes, as well as in Snow, the blynx having become the unofficial mascot of the Hunter’s Lodge.

My eyes and the blynx were a part of my team’s trail discipline. I kept watch for trouble in the spirit world, and Snow roved. Mumu, as usual, scouted ahead, while Haol trailed behind to cover our rear, and Tegen protected Teila and me in the middle.

Kesa’s team paralleled us to our right, using the same formation, although they didn’t have any apprentices to protect. They were all elders, with Ben seeming to be the youngest—he looked to be in his late forties—although that might be a side effect of using magic. People able to manipulate qi or mana didn’t appear to age as fast. That might be true for body power too, but I didn’t have any evidence for that yet. The emulator Yuki and I had built to simulate body power didn’t count. Our experiments continued to be very, very painful.

‘Focus, Ollie/Eight.’

I sighed at my lapse, and nodded in thanks to Yuki. We weren’t far from the Glen, but they were right—it was better not to let my thoughts drift too much when away from home.

Eventually, the outer walls of Ikfael’s shrine came into view, and I spotted Aunt Tulu standing guard atop the gate. She was the head of the family of builders who’d descended on the area to build a shrine dedicated to Ikfael.

Aunt Tulu’s spirit radiated watchful-apprehension-concern, at least until Mumu whistled to catch her attention. She'd missed the hunter approaching the gate, but after a startled gasp her emotions settled into a glad relief.

She’d been worried for us. That wasn’t a guess either—I saw the way her spirit’s attention eased as she counted the number of hunters appearing out of the surrounding trees. That ease turned into satisfaction as Mumu spoke to her. They were too far away for me to hear, but she was likely reporting that we were safe and successful.

After a moment, Aunt Tulu disappeared, then re-emerged as the gate swung open. Another of the builders was behind her: the family’s lumber specialist. The man was in his late twenties, thick as a tree trunk, and could work miracles with wood. Literal miracles. I’d watched fascinated as he used Hydromancy and Nature Magic to season freshly cut trees—about a house’s worth in just two days.

Of course I’d asked about the spells, but they were a family secret. I was told I’d have to join for them to be shared with me. At which point, Aunt Tulu had introduced me to her niece, an apprentice a couple years older than me. When that attempt at matchmaking didn’t work, she’d called over the niece’s twin brother. I still declined.

The hunters quietly streamed into the open area approaching the shrine so as not to disturb the builders sleeping inside. I wouldn’t be joining them, though, as I planned to sleep in my own bed in the Glen proper. I did, however, linger to look over my gear and spend a bit of time with my hunt brothers and sisters.

Their quiet conversations soothed my post-encounter nerves, as did the close examination of weapons and armor. It’d become a ritual of sorts, one more way to deal with the madness that was Diaksha, the world I’d been reborn into. The literal translation for the place was “striving,” which was as apt a name as I could imagine. Still, there were joys too, and I took a break to pet one of them—Snow’s fur was amazing.

Ben came over to join me. “Let me again offer my congratulations to you and your family. I must remind you, however, that you promised to share how you made such a fine stew.”

Earlier in the week, my family in Voorhei had held the ceremony needed to adopt each other and officially become one family. There’d been a celebration afterward for friends, and I’d made Tio Miguel’s Hotter Than Hell Chili. It’d been a big hit, especially with the older crowd.

“Come over tomorrow night,” I said, “and we’ll make some together.”

“Will your family’s children forgive you?” Ben asked, chuckling.

I snorted. “Maybe not, but we can cook up something milder for them.”

Families were so interesting here. I didn’t know about the rest of Diaksha, but in the region Voorhei was in, the concept of family was flexible—a set of roles and relationships that were sometimes biological but also sometimes not.

There was a ceremony called a valeisten that created legal and cultural bonds between people recognized as family. Well, it did more than that, but I preferred not to think about its unpleasant aspects. I’d already spent enough time arguing with the villagers about it.

I was the family head, which was weird since I was in a body only eight years old, but the rest of the family was adamant. Weirder still, Bihei had wanted to call me father, claiming she wasn’t talented or experienced enough to be an elder in the family, which was patently ridiculous. It had taken some compromising, but we got her to accept an aunt role.

Our Bihei was caring and responsible and a beautiful soul. She’d cried so hard during the valeisten. I’d done okay until then, but once she started, she’d gotten me and the kids bawling too. I got teary-eyed just remembering it.

Ben smiled to see me so affected, even days later. “Your care speaks well for you.”

Snow purred and butted my chest with her head.

“Yes, yes, less talk and more petting. I get it.”

The hunters had mostly dozed off, but I stuck around, my mind wandering between the fight with the giant owl, observations of Mumu and Kesa quietly talking, and an internal debate on whether it was time to go to bed or not. The forest could be so peaceful—

Yuki’s qi flared in alarm. Instantly, I was standing and searching for threats. Before I could warn the others, though, Yuki said, ‘Not here. The part of us in Voorhei, in Bihei.’

The uekisheile’s main body was permanently attached to me, but they could segment off three pieces of themselves without compromising the integrity of their consciousness. Currently, one part was inside Snow to help us coordinate, and another took turns alternating between Billisha, Aluali, and Bihei so that we could stay in touch. The third stayed with me for emergencies.

What’s happening? What’s going on? Then I realized it’d be faster just to see for myself, so I merged with Yuki, and we sent our combined consciousness outward to the part of ourselves currently residing in Bihei.

Through her eyes, we saw the interior of the stable that once belonged to Ghitha. The stalls were long gone now, replaced by a cage made of iron. Bodies lay on the ground. Four people—four hunters, what was left of Borba’s old team—had been torn apart.

Bihei wasn’t a hunter, so she didn’t recognize the wounds on them. All she saw was that they were mangled, but we understood how their bellies had been clawed open, their necks sliced, and their backs and limbs broken.

Blood pooled on the ground under them. It was splattered across the walls, and the coppery scent nearly overwhelmed Bihei. She gulped, and pushed her way back outside, through a crowd of panicked villagers.

The village head Koda was there—Dwilla the Reeve too, as well as Musa the Dog Rider and Jesei his mount.

Koda was saying something, but the sound was attenuated in Bihei’s ears and hard to make out. She noticed us, however, and felt our concern and attention. Even before we could ask, she said, “It’s Borba. He’s escaped.”

2

Blood Tells the Tale

‘Tell us what happened,’ we said.

Bihei began to speak, and the memories of the night’s events arose within her.

She slept, but none of it was easy. Instead, it was a restless thing suffused with worry. Bihei tossed and turned—her dreams full of giant owls carrying young Eight away into the darkness. The bright spark that was his life disappeared, and without him to defend the longhouse, the owls came for Billisha and Aluali next. She was left alone. Again. Alone with nothing but the crushing weight of her loss.

Bihei woke to the sound of a drum pounding, an alarm. Her eyes shot open, and she moved quickly out of bed to get the stool that would let her reach the weapons in the storage area under the longhouse’s roof. Her eyes moved almost of their own accord to check on the children, but they were already starting to get dressed.

The rhythm of the drumbeats changed, and Bihei understood then; a beast had gotten inside the walls.

Most of the hunters were away on a night hunt—only Peng’s team was present in the village. They were Borba’s old team, and were still down a member, planning to wait until after the Long Dark to recruit an apprentice. It’d be up to them and Voorhei’s war dog and rider to handle whatever it was.

Still, there were rules to follow, and the drums meant that once she’d seen the children dressed and armed, she had to light a torch from the hearth fire and step outside with her own militia spear in hand.

The night was a brisk one, and goosebumps rose all along her arms. A light breeze carried with it the scent of rich, wet earth. Normally, it was a smell she relished. Not as good as cotton or wool but comforting, nonetheless.

It was only then, when she’d had a moment to think, that she’d remembered the portion of Yuki inside her. How strange it was to have grown so accustomed to them that she’d forgotten their presence. They were quiet most times, only coming alive when Yuki wanted to speak with her. Apparently, the portion of the uekisheile within her wasn’t very smart on their own, only able to follow simple instructions.

Bihei debated using the uekisheile to contact Eight and let him know about the alarm, but she worried it would disturb his hunt. Besides, there was nothing he could do from where he was out in the wilderness.

So, she held her spear tightly and waited, keeping watch as she was supposed to for anything out of the ordinary. As she did, torches lit the doors of the nearby longhouses, and her neighbors stepped outside, each of them appearing just as fearful and worried as she.

Time passed, and the drums continued to beat. Yelling sounded in the distance—the noise of people being organized into search parties. Old Wahashtei from the longhouse next door hobbled over to ask what Bihei knew of the situation, but she had nothing for him, so he left muttering under his breath.

‘Some people expect too much from Eight’s family,’ she thought.

Moments later, Musa rode past on Jesei, followed by a handful of villagers to support them. Musa pointed toward her and made the signal to follow, which wasn’t right—it wasn’t right at all. There were children in her longhouse, and if she left, there’d be no other adults to protect them.

But an order from a land soldier was an order, and there was nothing Bihei could do about it. She quickly opened the door, and instructed the children to head over to Wahashtei’s family to stay in their longhouse until she came back.

Like good children, Billisha and Aluali had already embraced Meliune’s Blessing, so they did as they were told. Then, Bihei ran to catch up to the other villagers following the war dog and his rider.

All of them carried spears, and some had other weapons too—clubs, knives, and even the odd sword. As for Bihei, she had one of Eight’s hunting knives in a sheath hanging from her belt. He’d left it in the longhouse for her, and she’d kept it close ever since the celebration at the end of the King of the Forest’s hunt, when Ghitha had snuck into their longhouse.

Bihei nodded to the other villagers, and they quietly greeted her back. Then, it was just a matter of following Jesei and keeping her eyes and ears open for trouble. They methodically searched the streets between the longhouses, and each of the plazas in between. In the distance, she caught sight of others bearing torches in other areas.

They didn’t find anything unusual—not until they reached the homes butting up against Voorhei’s main plaza.

The area was lit by the candle stones embedded in the pyramid’s steps. Not all were active—that would’ve been a waste of the village’s mana, but there were enough to make sure nothing approached the entrance at the top. More importantly, a crowd of torch-bearing villagers had gathered around Ghitha’s house.

The light revealed Dwilla gesturing angrily at Koda. Her voice carried across the stone plaza: “This is your fault. It's one of your lodges who is responsible.”

“We can’t say what happened until we know more. In the meantime, we have to...” Koda’s voice was harder to hear, and the rest was lost to the murmuring of the people beside Bihei.

Musa rode ahead to no doubt report to Dwilla and support her in whatever claim she was making against Koda. Bihei wanted to know what it was too, so she rushed forward along with everyone else, but then she smelled the unmistakable, acrid scent of vomit.

There were villagers clustered around the entrance to Ghitha’s stable, and several leaned against the nearby walls as if recovering. She drifted in that direction, drawn by dread, because only one thing lived in the stable: Borba. And the closer she got, the more the smell of vomit was overwhelmed by the scent of blood and raw meat.

Inside was a slaughterhouse. No... it was worse. A butcher would treat his animals with more care, with more respect.

Bihei’s hands shook. One was barely able to hold the spear, while the other covered her mouth in shock. ‘Yuki,’ she thought, and she felt a warmth in response. It spread through her heart like a heated stone added to her bed on a cold winter night.

She clung to that warmth, and said aloud, “It’s Borba. He’s escaped.”

We directed the portion of ourselves inside Bihei to extend tendrils through her scalp, but the only significant source of qi we sensed in the area was the dog-and-rider pair. So, we cast Camouflage, and exposed more of ourselves to the air.

There, that scent! Can you bring us closer?

‘You want me to go inside?’ Bihei thought, horrified.

If you can, please.

Bihei took a breath, and we felt her courage gather until she had the strength to step forward. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until she stood in the blood pooling inside the stable. We heard the villagers around her, questioning and anxious, but all our senses were focused on the scent of hungering, rusty-red qi.

It was Borba, and not the qi-starved version of the hunter we’d previously known. There were also traces of his Siphon ability on the wounds left on the bodies.

That’s enough, thank you. Now head back to make sure the children are safe and stay with them at Wahashtei’s place.

‘Are we in danger?’ Bihei asked, terror rolling through her in waves.

Not necessarily, we replied, but we’d also rather not take the chance. Borba is unstable at the best of times. There’s no way to predict what he’ll do.

Bihei backed out of the room, her attention already shifting toward how to slip away from the crowd.

Yuki will stay with you, and Eight will rush back as quickly as possible, along with the hunters.

Our consciousness split, and I was back in my own body at Ikfael’s shrine—the quiet rustling of the forest jarring in comparison to the rush of events in Voorhei. Snow was up and alert beside me, and I sensed Yuki letting her know about the situation.

I’d only been mentally away for a few minutes, so Kesa and Mumu were still talking. Aunt Tulu had re-joined them in the meantime.

Let me know immediately if anything happens.

‘Of course,’ Yuki said. ‘We’ll defend the children and Bihei with our life if necessary.’

That settled, my mind immediately shot ahead to considering how to get back to the village as quickly as possible, with as many hunters as I could. I jogged over to Mumu with Snow, and she turned my way. “Something’s happened,” I signed, out of view of anyone else. “There’s danger back at Voorhei, and I need to talk to you and Kesa alone.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but Mumu didn’t hesitate. “Excuse me, Tulu, but something’s come up. Kesa, with me.”

I heard Aunt Tulu ask if everything was all right, but didn’t catch what was said in response. I was already moving, heading out the gate to wait for Mumu and Kesa, who joined me only seconds later.

I shared what I’d learned—and in that moment I was very glad that the two hunters knew about Yuki and what they were capable of; they didn’t waste time questioning the veracity of what I told them. The shock and dismay they felt were quickly suppressed—I could literally see the emotions being stuffed deeper into their spirits—and gave way to determination.

Mumu took a breath, and turned to Kesa. “Who? All, or just the night capable?”

Kesa must’ve known what she meant, because she responded: “Not all, but I’m certainly coming with you; my Pathfinder will let me keep up. The others will follow more slowly.”

Mumu nodded, and said, “Make it happen. We’ll move as soon as everyone’s gathered.”

We ran through the night, the trees and bushes blurring past—our string of hunters slipped through the forest with more speed than sense. The spirits turned to watch us fly past, but these people were all experienced woodsmen. Even when rushing, they respected the forest, so the spirits were only curious, not disturbed.

We went as quickly as we could. Everyone present—Mumu, Kesa, Ben, Haol, and me—had seen what Borba was able to do against the kalihchi bear, and in the season since, his abilities had only gotten stronger.

He’d been let loose for a handful of difficult hunts and had proven himself useful—proven himself dangerous. As his control over his abilities increased, his mind had slid further and further out of his grasp.

There was a reason the Hunter’s Lodge had kept him qi-starved. I didn’t like it, but given the danger Borba posed, I understood the why of it. The last time I’d looked at him with my Status camera, it’d read:

Borba the Murderer (Human, Dusk)

Talents: Hard-Working, Lean, Enduring, Unwavering Rage, Siphon, Hungry

Nascent: A Predator’s Cunning

His Rage had evolved over time into Unwavering Rage, and his nascent talent had revealed itself after I’d witnessed him trying to wheedle loosened restrictions from his former teammates. I’d warned them that he was being manipulative—that he would use the relationship they’d previously had against them—and I’d thought they listened. Clearly, they hadn’t.

The Glen was only about four miles from Voorhei, and the first half was mostly downhill. At the pace we were going, it was a miracle no one turned an ankle or broke anything. Not that it would’ve slowed us down too much. Everyone present, except for Kesa, knew the Healing Water spell. Still, a dim part of my mind recognized the level of skill being demonstrated.

I pinged Yuki with my qi. Everything all right?

‘Snow is leading the remaining hunters away from Ikfael’s shrine now. We’re having to translate some of their words for her, but they’re trusting her to guide the way. More importantly, Bihei and the children are safely hidden away. People are rushing about outside, so the situation doesn’t appear to be resolved yet.’

Hang on. We’re making good time, and will be there shortly.

Patches of moonlight drifted across the fields surrounding Voorhei, mimicking the movements of the clouds above. The village itself sat atop a hill in the distance, illuminated both by the moon and the flickering of torches inside its walls. What stood out most to me, though, were the pale forms of ghost dogs. They ran through the area in packs, agitated.

I slowed down to take in what I was seeing. The other hunters instantly matched my pace, and all of them reached for their weapons.

Kesa had been running beside me, and she whispered, “Do you see something, Little Pot?”

“The ghost dogs are disturbed,” I said.

Weapons were brought to the ready. Kesa’s voice was flat when she asked, “Is Borba here? Point us to him.”

I didn’t see anyone attempting to hide, just the ghosts who by then had noticed my presence. Each of them was taller than me, and thickset—bred for brawling with the monsters of Diaksha. Several of the war dogs came running, then barked to get my attention.

Their voices couldn’t get past Tenna’s Gift, the boundary protecting the living from the dead, but I felt the shield vibrating from the intensity of it. Not that there was much of a barrier left around me. My version of Tenna’s Gift had healed in the aftermath of fighting the kalihchi bear, but it was still only as thin as the film around a soap bubble.

“I don’t see Borba,” I said, “but it looks like the ghosts want us to follow them.”

The hunters glanced at each other before Mumu said, “Lead the way. We’ll put our trust in Voorhei’s fallen defenders.”

I nodded, and gestured the word for “go” to the dogs. I’d seen Musa use it with Jesei before, and it seemed simple enough that it might get past Tenna’s Gift. I’d hoped so anyway, and it appeared to have worked, because for a moment the dogs froze in surprise. Then, they began to yelp and leap, and took off running toward the village a second later.

They ran flat out, which meant we had to sprint to keep up. The others were still recovering their qi, so we ran unpowered through the fields, tacking to follow the paths in between. Corn, peppers, and late-growing tomatoes all rushed past as we threaded our way toward the village’s west gate, which was closed for the night, but that didn’t stop the dogs. They ran right through.

The wall surrounding Voorhei was twenty feet tall and assembled from a jumble of stones fused together by an Earth-Touched family. Every shape and size of rock was represented, making the wall look cartoonish, but it was solid and easy for a hunter to climb.

I leapt and so did the hunters behind me; we must’ve looked like fleas hopping and clinging to the wall. Then we climbed, urgency powering our limbs, and within moments we’d crested the top. The area above the wall couldn’t be called a battlement—it was more like a ledge where villagers could stand—but it gave us a place from which to visually search the village.

The militia had reached the point where they were going from longhouse to longhouse, looking inside each. Clusters of torches marked the areas where they were. Meanwhile, the ghost dogs had split into two groups: one headed toward Ghitha’s place, and the other running straight toward an unassuming longhouse northwest of the pyramid, about midway to the wall surrounding the village. The war dogs circled the house, and several looked like they were baying.

My stomach sank. “It’s Inleio’s house.”

The hunters around me paused as the words registered, then we all dashed for the stairs down to the ground. We rushed through the village paths, ignoring the calls of the villagers guarding their homes. As we ran, my heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute; a panic started to build inside me.

In the distance, I spotted a young man leaning with his spear against the longhouse door. He was Inleio’s nephew—a nice-enough boy; we’d met a couple of times. He should’ve been surrounded by the family’s other adults, though, unless they’d all been pulled away to help with the search parties.

My insides twisted when I noticed his spirit was missing from his body, and when I ran closer, he didn’t react. Then I smelled the coppery-iron tang of blood.

Error

Not a valid talent vessel.

I leapt the low wall surrounding the house’s front garden and moved to ease him to the side. The other hunters gasped when they realized he was dead. His throat had been slashed. Mumu slammed the longhouse door open, and the scent of blood and raw meat billowed out in a wave.

“No!” she yelled, rushing inside.

“Dear gods,” Kesa said.

My hand shook as I closed the nephew’s eyes. “Be easy,” I whispered, “and let this life not keep you. Move on, and find peace.”

I knew—knew—what I would find inside the longhouse, and so I held back to steady myself, to clench my hands, and to close my spirit eyes. Then I stood and went to the door.

It was as I’d feared. Inleio’s family was dead—all six, counting the nephew—and the stink of Borba’s rusty-red qi was all over them. The bodies almost didn’t look real, like they were props for a horror movie with the longhouse interior as the set, the blood covering the floor just a mixture of red food coloring, ketchup, and oil.

Except the smell gave it away; there wasn’t anything it could be other than death.

Anger, anguish, disgust—the emotions blocked my throat; I had to shove them down hard to keep them from choking me. The situation demanded I distance myself from what I was seeing: to register the details but not fully recognize the losses that came with them. Otherwise I’d be useless for what came next. So, I entered the longhouse almost as if I was sleepwalking and let my eyes rove over the scene.

Blood told the tale:

The first couple of bodies were still in bed, their blankets soaked red, so Borba must’ve snuck in before the alarm had sounded, while the family still slept. A smear showed where he’d leapt over the bed to get to Inleio.

The former lodge master had awoken and even managed to grab a knife—there was blood along its edge—but Borba overpowered him. Inleio had lost so much in the fight against the kalihchi bear, and Borba had been able to feed on the qi of four people by then. The result was evident, Inleio had been stabbed multiple times.

People must’ve started moving after that, but Borba was fast as well as strong. Every other body after Inleio’s showed evidence of their throats slashed, their lives spraying onto the walls and furniture. Borba would’ve wanted to keep them from yelling, no doubt.

After the last person fell, footsteps in the blood circled back to Inleio. I counted punctures on the body; there were twenty-three in total, plus a gouge over his heart. I checked, and his light was missing. More steps then led from body to body—each of them had had their light taken. Finally, Borba had left through the front door, dragging the nephew’s body with him. He must’ve known the alarm would sound eventually.

The other hunters glared at the scene, their breaths coming fast and short. Mumu turned to me, and I saw a ferocity in her eyes I’d never seen before. “Tell me. Was it Borba?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And what of the ghosts?”

As soon as I’d seen the dead nephew, I’d known this moment was coming. I took a shuddering breath, gestured to say, “One moment,” and reopened my spirit eyes.

Inleio was there, because of course he was; the former lodge master wasn’t someone who would go easily into death. He stood in the center of the longhouse, appearing as he must’ve when he was young and vibrant.

He'd clearly been waiting, because he knelt beside me as soon as I recognized him. He gestured in Signed Diaksh, but Tenna’s Gift interfered and the meaning was lost. So, I held up a hand to tell him to wait; the gesture was simple enough to be recognized.

I checked the area to make sure there were no other ghosts besides Inleio and the war dogs, then pulled out my favorite hunting knife, the one with deer’s antlers engraved into the base, and started infusing it with spirit mana. When I felt the mana click, I used the knife to gently poke the shield created by Tenna’s Gift where it was thinnest: the area right in front of the starburst scar on my belly. With a hiss, the shield parted, and when I withdrew my knife, it left behind a small hole.

“Can you hear me?” I asked.

The ghost dogs barked; they’d seen me pull this trick before. Inleio, on the other hand, fell back in surprise.

“Little Pot?”

I licked my lips, and my voice felt thick when I said, “Yes, it’s me. I—I’m sorry about what happened here. I need to ask, though... is Borba nearby? I mean, I don’t think so, but we should make sure, just in case. It would be stupid to endanger anyone through negligence. Oh, I’m rambling.”

Inleio’s eyes were red, like every other ghost I’d met in this world. They were wide open and shocked at first, and then they steadied. “No, Borba has fled from Voorhei. I followed him to the village’s eastern boundary, but this form”—he gestured to his ghostly body—“seems to be tied to the village, and I was not able to track him beyond it.”

“He was injured, right? There’ll be a blood trail.”

Inleio grimaced. “Perhaps, but he can steal abilities, so there’s a chance he can use Nature’s Spring now. Qi has a memory of its own. This is a lesson you’ll learn as a journeyman: the more frequently a spell is cast, the more its patterns become a part of your qi. And recall that this is the second time he’s taken from me; the first was during the hunt for the King.”

“Gods, that means that as long as Borba has access to qi, he can cast—”

“Bear’s Strength, Dog’s Agility, Iron Heart, Spiral Pierce, Nature’s Spring, and Body Burner. Not that he’d likely use the last, since there’s not much left of his body. He only has what he takes.”

“What a mess. A terrible, horrible mess.”

“I always knew I would die to a monster; I just didn’t think it would be one of my own making.” Inleio shook his head, and sadness wafted from him. “I stand by my decisions. They were the right ones to make, but ah... my poor family, they’ve always borne the burden of my responsibilities right alongside me.”

“Where are they? I can at least help them move on.”

“I told them to go on ahead, and that I’d follow when I was ready. I knew you’d come, you see. That you’d use your eyes. I hoped to convey a warning despite Tenna’s Gift. Now, I understand that I was naïve. For how long have you been able to speak with the dead?”

I suddenly felt like I’d been caught cheating by a teacher. It was so incongruous to the grisly setting, I wasn’t sure how to respond. All I could do was speak plainly: “Not long, only since the end of summer. Mumu and Kesa know, but they advised me not to tell anyone.”

According to the lodge’s leaders, speaking to the dead wasn’t taboo, but that was only because it was understood to be impossible. Tenna’s Gift precluded it, after all, which meant I was technically contradicting a god. So, we all decided to limit the number of people who knew. That meant Ikfael, Mumu, and Kesa. Well, that group now included Haol and Ben, since they were in the longhouse and watching.

I tried not to pay too much attention to Kesa urgently speaking to them about it. Sometimes I wonder if my nickname ought to be Little Pot of Secrets.

Inleio stared at me, before saying, “I understand. It makes sense that you didn’t tell me. Still, this is good. I can explain to you what you should do next.”

“It’ll be talking to the ghosts of Peng’s team, right? Assuming they’re still around.”

“Little Eight, do not think you can chew rocks just because you can speak to the dead.”

My heart jumped; the line was so achingly familiar. I took a breath and put on a brave smile. “Yes, you’re right of course. Please continue.”

“Peng and his team did not linger. They were always good at doing what they were supposed to, and each of them has already departed this world. No, you should keep your spirit eyes open, so that I can warn you if Borba returns.”

My heart sank even farther—Inleio wanting to stay was a red flag.

The war dogs around us began to bark in their eagerness to defend the village, so I reached out to pat a few of the massive heads to get them to calm down. All the while, my thoughts raced. How do I help Inleio move on?

The ghosts didn’t feel solid, but there was pressure under my palms. I also seemed to have caught Inleio by surprise again, because he blinked at the sight of me petting the war dogs.

“So Borba is out in the wilderness,” I said, buying time.

“Yes, for now,” Inleio said, “but he may come back to continue his revenge, or he may head to his home village to direct his rage there. My understanding is that Voorhoos was not a happy place for him.”

“I suppose the odds of him staying in the woods is small.”

“Borba possesses a bottomless hunger. It’s possible the wilderness will fill his need for qi and quell his rage, but I do not think so. The man... the monster I created will always be looking for more.”

I hesitated before asking my next question, but sometimes it pays to be direct, so I went for it: “You plan on sticking around, then?”

“Yes, I will stay,” Inleio said, straightening up.

“Is that wise?” I asked. “There’s danger when ghosts are too attached to life. The dogs seem to be all right, but people are... complicated.”

“Little Pot, I am too tired to—what is the word you like to use—crave either life or revenge. I only wish to see the last of my mistakes mended.”

“Oh, okay. That may work for a little while.”

Inleio snorted. “I’m glad you approve. Now, I have advice for both Mumu and Kesa. Ah, Haol and Ben are here too; I can also provide them with pointers. First—”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?”

I took a breath and firmed my resolve. “There’s no way I’m going to do anything that strengthens your connection to the living. I’m willing to pass along some last words, but that’s it.”

Inleio stared at me, and I saw his spirit roiling under the surface.

Not giving him a chance to respond yet, I continued: “We’ll use your help with Borba—I know you won’t be able to leave with that still hanging over the village—but the responsibilities are yours no longer. Put them down. Put them down. Put them down.”

“I... see.” Inleio glanced down at his pale and transparent hands.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

“The way? The way is never as clear as we desire it to be.” Inleio shook his head and chuckled.

I couldn’t imagine how he could laugh, surrounded as he was by his dead family, but something in him must’ve shifted, because his spirit lightened, even if it was just a touch. Whatever he was thinking, though, it was too complicated for me to perceive.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“You have this habit, Little Pot, of questioning the obvious. Of course I’m not ‘all right.’ But, no, it’s not my place to instruct you, not anymore.” Inleio turned his gaze toward the other hunters in the longhouse. They all watched intently as I—from their perspective—talked to the air. They didn’t see Inleio stepping toward Mumu and cupping her cheek with his palm. “Voorhei’s hunters are mine no longer, but I know the village will be protected. Tell them for me, Eight, tell them I believe in their sharp spears and swift arrows. That I leave the village in their good hands.”

He’d caught me by surprise at the end, and I choked up and had to wait for a moment before I could talk. In the meantime, the hole in Tenna’s Gift had healed shut. Inleio nodded to show that he’d understood what that meant.

“Little Pot? What have you learned?” Mumu’s eyes were just as hard as before, but now that I had my spirit eyes open, I saw the lostness hidden behind them.

I started sharing everything Inleio had told me, and couldn’t help thinking, This isn’t going to be easy.

3

A Gift to the World

Every hunter reacted differently. Kesa and Ben’s spirits eased when they heard Borba had left the village. Mumu and Haol, on the other hand, were wound up tight and their skins sizzled with the desire for revenge. That was what it seemed like, anyway.

Their feelings were understandable—Inleio had been a fatherly figure to more than just me. For a long time, he’d been an important part of the lives of everyone in the lodge. Hell, everyone in the village. He’d done so much to protect the people of Voorhei.

Inleio was a complicated man, a person deeply rooted in the Way of the Hunter. In no way was he perfect, but it seemed to me that he’d done more good than harm during his life.

He'd certainly been instrumental in making me a hunter. I had hunted in my previous life, sure, and it’d been a part of my identity then, but in the half year since I’d woken up in this world, it’d had become central to who I was.

He’d trained me in Spear and Knife Arts, given me access to the lodge’s spells, and taught me about the forest’s creatures. Even after he’d retired as lodge master, he’d continued to share stories and oversee my training. He had been so stubbornly determined to make sure the hunter’s path was burned into me—into my muscles and nerves and brain.

Inleio had knocked me down to keep me from thinking my teeth were strong enough to chew rocks, and then he’d picked me up again, showing me the proper way to stab a bear in the throat or how to steal an eagle’s eggs from their nest.

I would’ve been a different man had I never met him—much poorer in skill and understanding.

While I reflected on Inleio’s impact on my life, Mumu and Kesa quietly argued over the lodge’s next steps. Mumu wanted to immediately chase after Borba while the trail was still warm, but Kesa cautioned that an empowered Borba wasn’t to be taken lightly. He wasn’t some creature easily tricked; Borba knew the lodge’s strategies intimately, and he could easily turn that knowledge against us.

In Kesa’s estimation, hunting Borba would require at least two full teams, with neither of them “rushing in the dark like lost, angry children.” Those were her words exactly.

She didn’t pull her punches, our Kesa. But then that was what was required to get through to Mumu.

Something was needed to shift the balance in Kesa’s favor, so I quietly said, “We should let Koda and Dwilla know what happened here. Also, they can tell the militia to stop searching the village. It’s a waste of their time.”

The words startled Mumu—they were a reminder that she was responsible for more than just the Hunter’s Lodge. Like Inleio before her, she was now an integral part of the whole of Voorhei.

Mumu turned to me, the faint scent of betrayal emanating from her. She’d sensed that I’d taken Kesa’s side, but I only nodded in response. Her responsibilities were heavy, and they needed to be borne with diligence. That was what Inleio would’ve wanted.

In their report to the village’s leadership, Mumu and Kesa set aside their disagreement to outline what we’d discovered without revealing my ability to talk to ghosts. It helped immensely that I already had a reputation for working with the dead; finding the sugar maker’s treasure had paid off in more ways than one.

Koda and Dwilla didn’t handle the news of the additional deaths well, nor did any of the villagers who were shamelessly eavesdropping. Even as the drums finally sounded the all clear, I heard the news being passed around in quiet mutters.

Somehow, the gossip had even reached Old Wahashtei’s longhouse before me. When I finally had the opportunity to visit his longhouse to get my family, he greeted me out front with a question. “It’s true, then… Inneioleia is dead?”

Bihei shoved him aside before I could answer. “Are you all right, Eight?”

“The answer is yes to both questions,” I replied. The rest of my family were behind her, still holding onto Meliune’s Blessing, so I also added: “It’s safe for now. Borba was responsible for the deaths, and he’s fled the village.”

The goddess’ blessing fell away from Billisha and Aluali, and they ran over to hold my hands. They knew how much Inleio had meant to me.

“That’s all the news I have. We’ll have to wait for a full investigation by the Hunter’s Lodge for more. Until then, I’m exhausted, and will be taking my family home.” I let go of the kids to bow to Wahashtei. He could be a cranky old bastard, but he’d taken in my family without question. “Thank you for watching over them.”

He waved me off. “We are neighbors. It’s what we do. But are you sure it’s safe? Borba—”

“It’s been confirmed,” I said, gesturing to my eyes. “He’s gone. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

The kids also offered their thanks, then grabbed my hands again before we went home.

Everything looked the same inside the longhouse, yet somehow not, too. It’d be a different world without Inleio in it. I stood just inside the door, registering the repercussions. My family closed in, their arms around me.

Bihei asked, “Are you really okay?”

“It’s been a hard night,” I said, finally letting some of the detachment from earlier go. My voice felt rough, and I could feel the sadness welling up. Tears leaked from my eyes—my family noticed, and held me even tighter.

That night, I dreamt of Inleio. Yuki had asked for permission to take control, and when I gave it, they arranged a recollection of various moments of our times together: the day I’d first met him and he tested my skills; my initiation into the lodge, when he’d first called me his hunt brother; all the times we’d trained in the early mornings; the cups of tea while he’d patiently answered my questions; the beauty and perfection of his skill with the spear; the look in his eyes as he’d stared down the King of the Forest; and so many more.

We sat together as the memories played out, almost like watching a play in a theater. I was me, and Yuki sat on my shoulder, taking the shape of a pink fairy.

When I heard them sniffle, it occurred to me that this was Yuki’s first time experiencing a true death—they’d obviously experienced me losing Helen through my memories, but Inleio was the first person to die who Yuki had loved directly.

“We don’t like it,” they said.

“Death sucks pretty hard, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” they said, nodding.

“Knowing it’s not the end helps, but at the same time it doesn’t. The person we love isn’t suffering anymore—whatever pain they felt is finally gone—but they’re also no longer around. That’s easy to forget too, so you turn around to say something stupid and funny, but there’s no one there to laugh. The person you love is gone, and you find yourself missing them. Utterly, achingly, completely.”

I felt Yuki’s thoughts turning and turning, but all they said was, “Mmm.”

The rest of the night was lost in memory.

The sun had been up for about an hour before I got out of bed the next day. Bihei and the kids hadn’t done much better. From the state of preparations for breakfast, they’d only awoken about half an hour before me. The meal itself was quiet, interrupted by the occasional question from my family. I didn’t have solid answers, though, since a lot depended on the lodge’s next steps.

Thankfully, they’d gotten my gear in order, even before they’d started on breakfast. I’d be set for three days in the wilderness. We may not have known what the lodge planned exactly, but our guesses were educated ones. It shouldn’t take longer than that to run Borba down. The exact timing depended on when and where he decided to hole up. Hmm... and also if he’s able to find a big animal to kill. That’d affect things too. I better leave my gear for now, and finalize my kit once I’ve heard the lodge’s plan.

Stepping outside, I saw that we weren’t the only slow risers. Others were also just leaving their longhouses, and I saw more than a few of them yawning. The whole village felt slow and sluggish. A couple of the villagers started to look my way, but I slipped into the land and cast the Camouflage spell for good measure before they could come over.

I jogged over to the Hunter’s Lodge, and if not for recent events, it would’ve been pleasant start to the day. It was, after all, a crisp fall morning, and there was a breeze, bringing with it the scent of approaching rain.

I let the spell lapse when I arrived at the lodge. Inside, several hunters sat in a circle, preparing their gear, with members of Dura, Tobin, and Susu’s teams present—all quite capable but perhaps not the lodge’s top tier. That honor was reserved for Mumu, Kesa, and the late Peng’s teams.

The hunters looked glum as they worked, with none of the laughter and hijinks I was used to. As I pulled up a seat, I hardened my heart, so that I could use what’d happened the previous night as a teaching moment.

“I blame the darklight,” I said. “That’s what turned Borba into a monster.”

Several of the hunters nodded, but one said, “Without it, though, we would’ve lost the fight against the King of the Forest. None of us can deny that.”

“True,” I said, “but darklight is a sword with two edges, one that cuts friend and foe alike.”

“That’s a good expression,” he replied. The hunter speaking was on Tobin’s team, a steadying presence much like our Tegen. “I like it.”

Another sighed. “That dolbec Moon didn’t seem to have a problem with darklight. He lost his voice to it, but he was no ravening beast.”

I felt myself frowning in thought. “Moon once told me that the dolbecs who take darklight train for it all their lives. They’re not forced to become mules like our Borba was.”

“So, you’re blaming our Inleio, then? Is that what I’m hearing, Eight?” The speaker was a hunter on Dura’s team, a friend of Teila’s mother. Her eyes were angry.

“No, of course not. Voorhei couldn’t have asked for a better lodge master, but you know how the hunt goes—sometimes you must make the best of a bad situation. That’s what it was like with the King, a bad situation, and Inneioleia made the best of it.” I turned from person to person, making sure I looked every hunter square on. “But you also can’t say we aren’t living with the aftermath. We’re paying the toll for the kalihchi fight, just delayed.”

“And a bloody toll it is,” the hunter from Tobin’s team said, rejoining the conversation.

“It’s a lesson to us for the future,” I said. “We need to be careful of darklight, or at least of forcing it on others. It’ll twist in our hands like a bad knife, and we’ll only end up hurting ourselves and our loved ones. Don’t you agree?”

“Enough with your questions, Little Pot,” a hunter said. “We’re grieving and don’t need to hear this heavy talk.”

“But—”

“Please.” The word was spoken with such heartbreak.

“All right, I understand.”

By that point, Mumu and Kesa still hadn’t arrived, so I decided to make my way over to the meditation room, figuring I might as well use the time productively. “Will someone come get me when the others arrive?”

There were several nods in response, so I took my leave.

After getting comfortable on one of the colorful round cushions, I brought up my full Status. I’d made a habit of checking it every other week to keep track of my progress. Normally I did it at the Glen, though, so no one could comment on me staring glassy-eyed into space. Gods forbid I picked up another nickname as a result. Anyway, it was time for a checkup.

Enough woolgathering, Ollie. Focus. I rubbed my face, and focused on the information presented by the phone in my head.

Eight (Hidden, Oliver Michael Sandoval)

Path of the Young Forester

4

Age

8

Silverlight

3,599 of 6,750

Soul Marks

- God Touched

- Spontaneous Formation

- Memories of Another World

- Mana Door

- Way of the Hunter

Attributes

Strength

9 (10)

Constitution

10

Agility

10

Intelligence

15

Wisdom

15

Spirit

15 (16)

Charm

11

Luck

13

Free Attributes

0

Body Power

15

Qi

50

Mana

24

Talents

- Jack of All Trades

- Talent Scout

- Qi Sensitive

- Uncanny Tracker

- Multilingual

- Enduring

- Spirit Hunter

- Lightning Affinity

Blessings

- Aluali Eightsson (Human)

- Billisha Eightsdaughter (Human)

- Diriktot (Fallen God, Order)

- Helen Miriam Sandoval (Spirit)

- Ikfael (Spirit)

Curses

- Ghitha Woldecsbrother

Conditions

- Occupied (Evolving*)

Skills

Artisan

- Appraisal 5

- Construction 8

- Woodworking 8

Domestic

- Cleaning 4

- Cooking 6

- Repairs 6

Magical

- Aeromancy 5

- Geomancy 5

- Hydromancy 6

- Nature Magic 5

- Qi Body 11

- Qi Body Arts 8

- Spirit Magic 4

Martial

- Archery 10

- Knife Arts 5

- Logistics 11

- Marksmanship 8

- Poison Arts 4

- Spear Arts 8

- Strategy 5

Mercantile

- Accounting 12

- Administration 12

- Barter 6

Scholarship

- Biology 5

- Chemistry 4

- Diaksh 9

- English 13

- Nonverbal Communication 7

- Numeracy 8

- Physics 4

- Signed Diaksh 9

- Spanish 8

Social

- Gaming 12

- Relationships 9

- Storytelling 10

Spiritualism

- Meditation 9

- Spirit Arts 9

- Taoism 8

Survival

- Caves 3

- Forest 10

- Ocean 3

- Stealth 10

Like it was a sore spot, I couldn’t help poking Ghitha’s curse. It had lingered, and nothing I’d done seemed to help. According to Sheedi, I’d have to visit the world speakers in a bigger city to get rid of it—curses weren’t her specialty—which was why I’d planned to visit Albei later in the fall. There was supposed to be a big festival then, and I’d planned it as a nice treat for the family. I wasn’t sure about those plans now, though. It didn’t feel right.

In better news, I had hit 10 Agility at the end of summer, but unfortunately the milestone hadn’t been accompanied by a new talent. Two more opportunities were coming up though: the first would be when my Strength increased to 10, and the second was when I reached Level 5.

I was most hopeful for the bump to Level 5. That was when a person supposedly started the process of becoming more than human, and the milestone all but guaranteed at least one new talent, sometimes more.

There were increases across all my fighting skills, including the magical ones. I was especially proud of the Qi Body skill hitting 11. It was my first new skill breaking past the rank-10 boundary, and it’d been a pain in the ass, requiring a season’s worth of constant tempering of my meridians until they could handle the lightning-aspected qi flowing through them.

The feeling was of preparing the ground, and the qi was so fast, I could switch almost instantly between spells. Even better, now that Yuki and I didn’t have to actively slow down the qi, my recovery rates had doubled.

On its own, without help from Yuki or me, my qi recovered at a rate of two points every hour. With me meditating or Yuki helping, that rose to four an hour, and if both of us pushed, then it was eight. That equated to two qi spells every hour, and because the various energies were connected and moved through the same systems, my mana recovery rate enjoyed the same benefit.

The only downer was that my Lightning Affinity talent hadn’t evolved yet. I’d suspected-hoped-dreamed it might one day, but the path to Lightning-Touched was likely longer and windier than I’d like. Ah well, a boy could dream, even if he was an old man at heart.

Speaking of dreams, I had so many spells now. After the hunt for the King of the Forest, every hunter who could use magic got access to two new spells, but that didn’t satisfy me. Not. At. All. Which was why I’d contributed nearly all the money I’d earned from harvesting eilesheile to the Hunter’s Lodge in exchange for access to the rest of the apprentice-level spells.

Air Shield, Hawk’s Eye, Hollow Night, Collaut’s Hide—I knew them all and more.

It had been a jaw-dropping splurge, and had generated a ton of gossip, but I had the taak, the desire, and most importantly a super-genius lichen who could act as my training wheels until I could master the spells on my own.

As for new skills, there was... Cleaning, which while underwhelming was an unavoidable part of life—in both this one and my previous. Speaking of previous lives, the tooltip for one of my soul marks had also finally been decoded:

Memories of Another World

A life fully lived is a gift to the world. This soul mark begins the intricate process of weaving a robust amount of extradimensional data into the World Spirit. To ensure the fairness of the exchange, a significant bonus is provided to the creation and maintenance of skill channels.

I found the tooltip fascinating. It clearly confirmed what I’d learned from Sheedi, Inleio, and the others about skills, namely that information traveled both up and down. As you practice a skill, its channel broadens, and the harder you work at it, the more pressure is generated to push ideas and innovations up to the World Spirit. At the same time, that pressure also pulls information down; the process was a kind of double pump.

That was how I’d been able to learn from the Skill-Sensei when I had first arrived in Diaksha. And while their early instructions were simple—holding the spear, for example—at higher ranks, the information was... well, still not clear. But it felt more familiar, like I had a whole bunch of subconscious background knowledge just out of reach. The result was that I felt a lot more comfortable with the spear than a season’s worth of training would have normally provided.

While I would’ve loved to credit that familiarity to the hard work I’d been putting in, I knew that something more was involved. The World Spirit was a web to which everyone and everything was connected, and my hard work had contributed to it, just as it had contributed to me.

And it was all reflected in the numbers displayed on the phone in my head.

It occurred to me that Inleio lived in those numbers. What he knew, what he loved, and what he strove for—those things were all shared with the World Spirit. They, in turn, then belonged to everyone who had hunters’ skills. Who knows, right now someone on the other side of the world could be learning something from Inleio. Indirectly, but it was possible.

More than that, Inleio’s training was reflected in my skills. When I looked closely at their foundations, I found memories of him running through them—they were part of me, woven into who I was as a hunter.

Heart aching, and smiling despite it, I thought, The people we love go away, but not completely. Something of them always stays behind.

A clap outside the door roused me. “It is Ahlrein, come to tell you that Mumu and Kesa are here.”

“Thank you,” I said, then wiped the stray tears away and gave my cheeks a couple of slaps. Right, time to get some work done.

4

A Family’s Care

Ahlrein was Teila’s father, a member of Susu’s team. I hadn’t seen him earlier, so I figured he must’ve arrived after I’d closeted myself away. As I was greeting him, others arrived in pairs and small groups, including Teila herself. She was holding hands with her mother Miri, a hunter on Dura’s team.

The lodge split up hunters from the same family whenever possible. That way if anything catastrophic happened to a team, families wouldn’t lose more than one member. None of the people on Peng’s team had been related to each other, so the losses were spread out across four families.

Five, I suppose, if we include Borba. There’s no way he’s surviving this.

As Ahlrein had mentioned, Mumu and Kesa were present, but they seemed to be waiting for all the hunters to arrive. Mumu in particular chafed at the delay, and Kesa had what looked like a comforting, encouraging hand on her arm.

Teila and her mother came to where Ahlrein and I were standing.

“Have they said anything?” Miri asked her husband.

“Not yet,” Ahlrein replied, “but almost everyone’s here. We’re just waiting for Haol and Tegen. They’re the last to return from scouting for signs of Borba’s passage."

Almost everyone was present, yet the lodge didn’t feel full. There were noticeable gaps in our ranks that remained even after Haol and Tegen arrived. They strode from the entrance directly toward Mumu for a whispered conversation; the room quieted as every hunter listened in.

When Mumu noticed, she stepped forward to announce what the scouts had found: “We confirmed that Borba headed east. His footprints were edged in blood, and his gait measured almost a saqilm in length.”

The audience muttered, disturbed by what they’d just heard. Frankly, I was too. A saqilm was just over eight feet. That meant—

“The only way Borba’s stride could be that long was for him to have been magicked. We believe he was using both Bear’s Strength and Dog’s Agility to flee.”

“Do we know how long he can keep that up?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to, but the question had popped out before I could stop myself.

Several hunters in the room nodded along, wanting to know the answer themselves.

“The spells were taken from our Inleio,” Mumu said, “and the qi to power them was stolen from those Borba slew. If he can find enough qi to keep the patterns refreshed, he can continue to cast the spells. That knowledge is based on what we understand about his abilities.”

“We’re going to need the whole lodge,” someone said, though I didn’t catch who.

There was angry agreement in response, the outlines of a barely contained rage among the hunters becoming clearer. It was out of character for the people who I’d come to know. Yes, the lodge’s members killed on a regular basis, but when they did, it was with respect for their prey.

They were a practical people, almost to a fault. Stoic, even, so this was my first time seeing them worked up like this. Not even the kalihchi bear had made them this angry.

Yuki had been watching and listening along with me. They focused intently on the hunters’ reactions.

It’s the betrayal, I explained. Even after Borba had become a mule, he was still considered a hunter, a part of the lodge. Now, though, he’s turned on his brothers and sisters. And that makes it worse. You expect enemies to hurt you, but when it’s family, the depth of pain is so much greater, as is the desire to return it.

I felt Yuki shuffling through my memories. I hadn’t actively hated anyone in either my first or second families, but I’d known a great many people over the course of my old life and had worked on a lot of documentaries. All too often, threads of familial discord were woven through humanity’s stories.

‘The depth of affection transforms into the depth of hate,’ they said after a moment.

Yes, I said.

‘Is that why we’re so angry?’

Yes.

Our conversation was interrupted when Mumu spoke again: “All hunts except the one for Borba are cancelled. If anyone needs meat, we’ll supply it from our stores; we have more than enough to handle it. We’re not leaving the village undefended, so two teams will stay behind to work with our land soldier and the militia in case Borba returns. The teams defending Voorhei will be Kesa’s and Tobin’s—”

That got a rise out of the assembled hunters, and several shouted in response. They all wanted to join the hunt for Borba. Kesa, though, stepped forward to glare them down, and that shut them up long enough for Mumu to explain the rationale.

The lodge’s teams were ranked as follows:

1. Mumu

2. Kesa

3. Borba/Peng

4. Dura

5. Tobin

6. Susu

The idea was that the number-one team would go after Borba with help from the fourth and sixth, while the second-best team defended Voorhei along with the fifth. This “striping” was a way to distribute talent between the two efforts, which seemed like a wise decision to me.

What had really caught my attention, instead, was the way it had been shared. Kesa wasn’t the glaring type; she must’ve intentionally picked an unsophisticated leadership tactic—the glare—to give Mumu a chance to appear cool-headed and organized in front of the lodge.

“Are the apprentices coming with us?” Miri asked.

Mumu and Kesa looked at each other, like they didn’t have an answer to her question. No, that wasn’t it. I could see from their spirits that there was disagreement between them. Mumu’s indicated a willingness to include the apprentices, while Kesa’s didn’t.

Well, I wasn’t planning to stay behind—

“I’m going,” Teila said, beating me to it.

“Me too,” I said.

Apparently Kesa wasn’t the only one with a potent glare. Both Ahlrein and Miri had good ones too, and they pointed theirs at me, like I was somehow a bad influence on Teila.

She stepped between me and her parents. “It’s my decision as a hunter, and I’m making it for my own reasons.”

“This isn’t like the hunt for the King of the Forest,” Ahlrein said. “There’ll be no first-aid station.”

“I know,” Teila said, “but Inleio was my lodge master too. And Peng and the others were my brothers and sisters.”

“If Eight wasn’t going, would you still want to?” Miri asked.

Teila quirked her head in thought, then answered, “Yes, I would.”

“The three of us would be on the same hunt,” Ahlrein said, and the implications were clear—there was a chance their family would lose all its hunters at once.

Miri shook her head. “We’ll die before we let anything happen to our Teila.”

Ahlrein nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“I will carry that burden,” Teila said, clenching her fists.

“Hopefully you won’t need to,” Miri said. Then she faced me. “You’ll watch over her too, yes?”

“Without question.”

“That’s a good answer, and I like the look in your eyes.” Miri turned and spoke to the room: “We’ll not object to the apprentices joining the hunt.”

Mumu signaled an acknowledgment: “Your words have been heard.” She glanced over at Susu, but the team leader shook her head. Their apprentice would be staying behind. The poor boy in question looked anxious, afraid, and disappointed all at once. “That settled”—Mumu checked to the side, but Kesa chose not to object—“we will continue our preparations. Hunt teams prepare for two weeks in the field. Gather your gear and meet at the east gate. Do not tarry; we leave as soon as we are all assembled.”

I rushed home, and as the door to the longhouse swung open, I found the children and Bihei sitting around the fire. The expressions on their faces quickly changed from glum to neutral, but it was impossible for them to hide their feelings from me. A heaviness covered their spirits like a thick blanket.

All three stood when I entered, but it was Bihei who asked, “We can’t change your mind, can we?”

“Yuki told you, huh?”

It was apparently Aluali’s turn to host the portion of the uekisheile that stayed with the family, because he replied, “They described what happened at the meeting.”

The rest was obvious: Aluali had shared the news with Billisha and Bihei.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Even though it’s so dangerous?” Bihei asked.

“I’m going because it’s dangerous. My team needs me.”

The three exchanged looks, wisps of spirit energy unconsciously fluttering between them. It happened all the time between people who knew each other well. In this case, I took it to mean that they’d already come to some decision and were seeking confirmation from each other.

Billisha said, “We got everything you’ll need for two weeks ready, but you should check, just in case. We... we included two jars of the tomato preserves you like so much. There wasn’t enough room for more; nothing we did could make them fit.”

I smiled, touched by my family’s thoughtfulness. “It’s okay. Two jars should be enough. We hopefully won’t be in the field long enough for me to want more than that.”

“I don’t know,” Aluali said. “The way you eat, they may not last two days, let alone two weeks.”

I felt my smile spread. “What can I say? The preserves are just that good.”

They were, too—a mixture of dried tomatoes and chilis that had been a specialty of Bihei’s deceased husband. It was so delicious on venison, bear, rabbit, and even duck. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, much to my family’s amusement.

Mostly, though, I appreciated Aluali’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“You’ll be careful?” Bihei asked.

“As much as I can be,” I said.

“And you’ll listen to Yuki?” Aluali asked.

“Yes, of course. They’re family too.”

“What will you say to Ikfael?” Billisha asked.

“I don’t have time to get to the Glen and back, so I’ll have to see what I can manage through Snow. I figure Ikfael will be okay with raiding the refrigerator for a while.”

At that point, my family had gotten to know Ikfael well, and all three nodded in agreement. Our dear otter might have the Foodie talent... but she wasn’t exactly a picky eater.

After that, I doublechecked my gear and supplies, but everything had been packed correctly. It was a good reminder that Bihei and the kids had already experienced me heading out to hunt many times—maybe never one quite this long before, but enough that the procedures were familiar.

They’d also grown accustomed to me being in harm’s way. Again, maybe not to this degree, but the trauma of me almost dying to the kalihchi bear had mostly faded. I’d proven to them my ability and determination to keep coming back to them, no matter what I faced.

I thanked each of them for their support, explained that I planned to “visit” the Glen, and found a seat before joining with Yuki. We were due at the east gate, but we couldn’t leave without letting Ikfael know.

Sun-on-Snow opened her eyes to a peaceful Glen. A glance at her surroundings confirmed her kittens were nearby—Felix and Oscar were taking turns stalking and pouncing upon the leaves blowing across the ground. They took care not to get too close to the pool, though. Oscar had only needed to fall in once for the both of them to learn that lesson.

Her nap had been a good one, and she stretched and flexed, purring softly in satisfaction.

Our presence lay within her, along with the message we wished to convey: Seek Ikfael. We have a request.

Snow came to her feet and padded around the Glen, but Ikfael wasn’t floating in the pool as she usually was. The spirit of the land was also neither in the cave, atop the waterfall, nor anywhere within the spirit’s territory, the boundaries of which Snow could sense. She took the knowledge for granted like the trees, the wind, and all the rest of the forest.

Back at the pool, Snow crouched to splash the water with her paw. That caught the kittens’ attention, and they came tumbling her way. They were too big to climb on top of her, but they still sometimes tried—she had to bat them away before resuming her splashing. Then, she needed to pull them back from the pool to keep them from falling in. Apparently, they hadn’t learned that lesson quite as well as they could have.

Scolded, the kittens finally rested on their bellies to watch their mother without any other mischief. After a glance to make sure they were behaving, Snow resumed splashing the water.

Time passed—about enough for a leaf to make its way from the waterfall to the stream leading out of the Glen—before Ikfael appeared, swimming up from the bottom of the pool. The otter signed with her paws, and while Snow recognized some of the signs, the warm presence inside her translated the full meaning.

“What’s this? Is it you or Yuki who needs my attention?”

We sprouted our tendrils from the backs of Snow’s paws and waved to Ikfael. Then, with some effort, we shaped those tendrils so that they resembled rudimentary fingers.

Please follow these movements, we said to Snow, before sending the necessary qi impulses through her body to guide her paws.

Blynxes—or lynxes for that matter—weren’t exactly adapted for communicating via sign language, but Snow did her best to sit up and move her front paws as we requested. At the same time, we used our tendril fingers to complete the words.

It was slow and awkward, with many stutters when we were forced to repeat words until they were clear, but the conversation essentially went something like this:

“We won’t be back to the Glen for at least two weeks.”

“Is it Eight or Snow who will be away?”

“Eight/Yuki. Our team will be staying in the woods.”

Ikfael quirked her head. “Did something happen with the owl? You’re hurt?”

“We’re fine. It’s Borba—the man we told you about, the one who was turned into a mule—he killed many villagers, including Inleio, and escaped east. We will be joining the effort to hunt him down.”

“I see,” Ikfael said, her paws trailing off at the end.

“We wanted to let you know that we will continue to honor the agreements we’ve made. There is enough food in the refrigerator to last four weeks. The hunt won’t take that long, but we give all the food to you anyway. It won’t be as tasty raw, but we will make it up to you when we return. We promise.”

Ikfael didn’t respond; she seemed lost in thought, her gaze pointed downstream.

Snow waved her paw on our behalf to get her attention, and then we asked, “Is that all right?”

We were using Snow’s eyes, so we couldn’t see past the flat expression Ikfael turned on us. “No, it’s not. Implied in our agreements is the preparation of the food you present, which means you need to be in the Glen. Not all the time—I’m a flexible and understanding spirit—but two weeks away is unacceptable.”

Surprise rolled through us, the waves even touching Snow. She quickly dropped to her belly and bowed her head. It took some coaxing to get her back upright so that we could communicate again.

Ikfael’s jaw was set, and there was determination in her eyes. “Don’t go.”

“We have to.”

Her response was near-instant, as if she’d already had it prepared: “Then send Yuki, and leave Eight behind.”

“That—”

“You have an extra portion, right? Give that to Mumu, so that you can take part in the hunt but keep the main body safe.”

We’d asked Mumu before if she wanted to meet Yuki directly, but she had declined. Kesa too, for that matter, which was fine. It really was. The uekisheile portion of our combined consciousness had been disappointed, of course, but accepting people’s rejection was a part of respecting their free will. The two hunters knew that if they ever needed Yuki, the uekisheile would be available to help them. That was enough.

“You know that won’t work,” we said through Snow.

Ikfael glared, and then looked away. She let out an angry squeak and rubbed a paw vigorously through the fur on top of her head, as if it would help her think better.

When she turned back, she signed, “I’m not responsible for you!”

“Yes. That’s true.”

“Bug! Insect! You infest and multiply—bringing people to the Glen to annoy me.”

Ikfael had never called us names before, but we didn’t take offense. By that point, we understood what was happening: our dear otter was afraid for us but unwilling to admit it, so the fear expressed itself as anger.

“It is unfair, unfair, unfair. A violation of our agreement, I say.”

“We will make amends—”

Ikfael snorted, but her expression turned sad, like she was resigning herself to some terrible fate. She hesitated for a long time, but finally said, “We will build on our agreement. When I request it, you will cook for me.”

“We would be happy to, but there will be times when we cannot.”

Ikfael waved our objection away. “This is a principle, not a law. I understand that duties and obligations will sometimes interfere—it is just that two weeks is too long—so I will have to adapt my share of the exchange to make it possible for you to accomplish yours.”

“What... what does that mean?” we asked.

She glared, like the answer should have been obvious. “If you’re not here, then I’ll have to go to where you are.”

“What? What about the serpent who sleeps under the Glen?”

Ikfael frowned. “Sun-on-Snow will stand guard while I am away. There are also those noisy workers nearby. They can help. And if anything significant happens, I will rush back.”

Her words gave us pause. Her willingness to leave the Glen to another creature’s care stumped our expectations, and we didn’t know how to respond—neither the Ollie/Eight nor the Yuki portions of our consciousness had insights on how to respond other than to say, “Thank you.”

Once more, Ikfael waved us off. “It is an exchange, that’s all. Now, have Snow follow me. We need to tell the workers that the blynx will be in charge while I am away.”

Snow yowled in confusion once she understood what Ikfael meant, and frankly our own thoughts weren’t much clearer. Ikfael was willing to expose her real avatar? In the past, she’d created a giant water sculpture whenever strangers visited the Glen. The only other people who’d seen her real form were the kids, Bihei, and Mumu.

It turned out, though, that she’d settled on a compromise. The water sculpture she used for telling stories about Knight Otter stepped out of the pool, and Ikfael jumped into it, becoming one with the water. Then, she started walking toward where the shrine was being built. Sleek and lithe, the sculpture looked like Emma Peel from the old Avengers show, except a full-sized hybrid of human and otter.

Knight Otter stopped to glance back to where we sat—we were still dumbfounded by Ikfael’s actions. She signed, “What are you waiting for? Come on.”

That roused us from our stupor, and we encouraged Snow to follow as requested, which was how we got to witness the workers dropping their tools and rushing to bow to Knight Otter as she strode through the shrine’s gate and along the path to the building under construction. An enterprising apprentice was clever enough to dash inside to get Aunt Tulu, because she came running out with the rest of the workers from inside.

Knight Otter looked down her nose at the gathered throng. “I’m going on a trip,” she signed, “and am leaving this blinking lynx in charge. Listen to her; she will guide you in my stead.”

Fortunately, the workers had already been introduced to Snow, so none of them panicked, but there were a great many surprised looks in response. A thought came to us that our dear Ikfael was doing a wonderful job spreading confusion and consternation that day.

“Oh, honored spirit,” Aunt Tulu said, “ah... um... how will we know the blynx’s intentions?”

Knight Otter nodded. “A good question. She will come to warn you if an animal invades the Glen. If that happens, you only need to defend this shrine and yourselves; that will be enough.”

“We've already agreed to that with Voorhei’s world speaker. The advance warning would be helpful, though.”

“Then in exchange, let me have some of those maple candies you’re always giving out.”

Aunt Tulu blinked, and then blinked again before she seemed to register the request. “Yes... of course.” She untied the pouch at her side and offered the whole bag to Knight Otter.

“All’s well, then,” the knight signed, before turning and walking straight out of the gate.

We had Snow wave her paw in farewell, and then she followed the knight.

Back at the pool, Ikfael materialized out of Knight Otter’s body and stored the water in her Hoarder’s Pocket. She jammed one of the candies into her mouth, and then the rest of the pouch got stored too.

“I’ll meet you by the river outside Voorhei’s wall,” she signed, while she nom nom nommed the candy.

“We’re already running late and will be leaving soon,” we said.

“Don’t worry. Where the streams and rivers flow, I can move quickly. I’ll be there in time.”

And that apparently was that, because she disappeared into the pool with a splash.

How will she travel with us? Does she plan to use Knight Otter again? There were just so many questions, with no answers left behind.

What about you, Snow? Are you okay with this arrangement?

A sense of satisfaction filled the blynx. This place belonged to her, and she belonged to it. There was a sense of loyalty. It’d been developing over time, and the bond between us felt sure.

We are grateful, we said, and will do our best to return your trust. What else was there to say in response to our family’s care other than, Thank you.

5

Hidden Strengths

A light rain fell as I stepped out the longhouse door, just enough to let the world know it was there. Clouds were continuing to gather on the horizon, though, so there was a chance it might storm for real later. I didn’t see any flashes to indicate lightning, which was probably for the best. While I loved a good thunderstorm, a downpour would obscure Borba’s trail.

I gave my shoulders a shake to settle my hauberk and brought up the hood of my cloak. Around my neck was the otter charm Aluali and Billisha had carved for me. My spear was in hand, but my bow remained unstrung and strapped to my backpack. On my waist, I wore two belts, and scabbards for five knives—two hunting knives, two stilettos, and a camp knife.

I was running late for sure, but Bihei and the kids refused to stay behind, and they walked with me toward the eastern gate. Villagers waved, calling out as we passed:

“Good hunting.”

“Avenge us.”

“Return whole to our Voorhei.”

One small child—she couldn’t have been more than four years old—came running barefoot out of her family’s longhouse with a flower necklace in hand. I had to pull back my cloak and kneel for her to get it around my neck.

Afterward, the little girl didn’t say anything; she just gave me a pat on the cheek and ran back to her family. They’d watched her from their door. I gave them a nod and kept going.

The rest of the walk was a blur—my mind ahead of my body, thinking about what we’d need to do over the next couple of weeks. There were the logistics to consider, as well as what we’d likely face while out in the wilderness.

To the east of Voorhei was a mixture of wilderness and settled land. I’d never been out that way myself, but I’d been instructed in the local geography by several teachers: Inleio had wanted me to understand the nearby animal territories, Tegen believed in being thorough about knowing everything that could be known, and Uncle Kila—the merchant representing my business interests in Albei—made sure I knew where to go if I ever wanted to visit.

From what I’d understood, Albei was the biggest landmark in the area, and the city had major highways leading to and from it, in each of the cardinal directions. One of these highways passed to the north of Voorhei, and the gravel road leading out of the village’s east gate connected to it.

The villages of Voorsowen and Voorhoos were to the northeast and southeast respectively, but to get to them people typically headed to Albei first so that they could stick to the highways. A river flowed just south of Voorhei, so sometimes people traveled via boat, but not many and not often, since upstream the river quickly diverged into a myriad of smaller streams, like the one connecting the village to the Glen.

There was supposed to be a major river that flowed north-south through Albei which led to the coast. I was told it was a seven-to-ten-day walk, either east to the port of Ganas Hakei or south to the port of Sugrusu Hakei.

Albei was much, much closer. Even though people made it sound like it was far away, the city was only about a four-to-six hour walk. There was a peddler who made the trek from Albei to Voorhei weekly, but most of our villagers only visited the city once or twice a year for the big festivals in the spring and autumn.

However, exact travel time to Albei, as well as to the port cities, assumed the weather was on your side and nothing got in your way, which was the real kicker—just because there was a highway didn’t mean the wildlife wouldn’t attack. You needed either guards or to travel in big-enough numbers to dissuade them from thinking you’d make a tasty snack. Traveling was a dangerous business.

There was a reason Voorhei was as heavily fortified as it was. From what I’d heard, the other villages’ defenses weren’t quite as robust, but each of them stood like islands in the wilderness, and travel between them was an endeavor for professionals and the brave at heart.

Which brought my thoughts around to Ikfael and how she planned to join me—I just couldn’t imagine it. I mean, she’d gone on several excursions since I’d met her, but my impression was that she’d used the waterways to do it. The teams hunting Borba, meanwhile, would be traveling over land.

She’s not going to walk, is she? I’m not sure what else is possible. She doesn’t have the stamina to keep the Knight Otter active the whole time. I worried that Ikfael was getting in over her head, and I also worried about the rain. Hopefully we didn’t make a mistake not chasing after Borba right away. The trail’s going to be messy—

In response to my thoughts, I felt a wave of reassuring qi from Yuki. No words were attached, just the feeling of trust-in-family.

With a hug and a kiss each, I said goodbye to Bihei and the kids and made my way through the eastern gate. The hunter teams were gathering at the bottom of the hill, but surprisingly not everyone seemed to be present yet. I somehow wasn’t the last to arrive, so I detoured to the river to the south.

Upstream was a small boat landing, and past that was the mill, its wheel turning. Some enterprising soul was likely getting their corn ground. It was a strange bit of normalcy amid the alarm, and I found myself wondering who, since most of the villagers didn’t appear to be venturing outside today. Then, I spotted Wahashtei, stepping out and turning to yell at the miller still inside. Nothing stops him, does it?

I turned my attention to the river itself, and a few moments later I was rewarded with the sight of an otter’s paw waving from the water. No otter, mind you, just the paw.

“Ikfael?” I asked.

In response, the paw gave a thumbs up and cut through the water toward me, just like a shark’s fin might.

I approached the bank, shaking my head at her antics, and when I got close the paw dipped under the surface, only to come back moments later clutching a small sculpture of an otter. It was about six inches long and had the fine grain of the sandstone I’d seen near the Glen. She’d done a lovely job using the stone’s native grays, whites, and blacks to shade her work.

Ikfael gestured for me to take the sculpture, so I did, and then she waved for me to bring it close to the water—near enough for her to take it back. But she didn’t take it back. Instead, there was a whoosh, and I was suddenly pushed away hard enough to fall on my ass.

The sculpture was still in my hand, but it felt heavier than before. Not physically, the statue was just two inches wide, so it only weighed about a couple of pounds, but there was a heft to it now. With my spirit eyes, I saw Ikfael’s eyes gazing out at me from inside the sculpture.

“Really? Are you sure?”

There was a reason her avatar was in the shape of an otter, and not, say, a mole, gopher, or some other burrowing animal. Ikfael had a talent for water, and she was able to become one with it with incredible ease. Sure, that same talent also worked on stone, but for some reason that came a lot harder to her. She’d been practicing, yet it never looked easy or comfortable; she’d gritted her teeth every time I had seen her training the ability.

Ikfael simply nodded. It was weird to see her spirit miniaturized and inhabiting the stone, like one image of her superimposed over another.

“And you want me to, what, take you out for meals?”

A pair of otter paws appeared in front of the statue and signed, “Clever, right?”

“It’s something, although I’m not sure clever is the right word for it. I’m sorry, I have to ask again: do you really want to do this? You’re going to be stuck in my backpack the whole time.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ikfael signed, her gestures flippant. “Forcing myself to stay within stone for two weeks will be good practice, but I’ll need good meals as a reward.”

“We won’t have time to hunt for our food. We’ll be eating mostly dried—”

“No, no, no. I have brought everything from the refrigerator,” she signed, looking pleased with herself. “We will be able to eat well.”

“I... okay... I can see how that would work.”

I’d been preparing myself mentally and emotionally for chasing down and killing a former friend. Ikfael inserting herself into the process wasn’t in any of the scenarios I’d imagined, and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea.

Within the sculpture, Ikfael narrowed her eyes. “Are you unhappy I’m coming with you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you’d best get moving. The hunters are all looking this way.”

I glanced behind me, and there was quite a crowd of people all peering at the strange boy sitting by the river talking to a small sculpture. “I’m going to need to explain all this.”

“You can tell Mumu. She’ll appreciate the artistry of my work. For the rest, you decide. I don’t want to deal with it.”

Mumu caught my gesture and jogged over. “What is it? We’ve already delayed too long.”

I showed her the statue and said, “Well, here’s the thing...”

Broad smiles broke out when Mumu explained that Ikfael would be joining us on the hunt. It wasn’t exactly a blessing, the capital-B kind, but that didn’t matter to the villagers. It was still a spirit of the land approving of the hunt, and that type of validation should never be underestimated—not with how influential spirits could be. The villagers still told stories of being punished by them once for abusing darklight.

Also, no one appeared to have any difficulty grasping Ikfael’s thinking. A shrine was in the process of being built, and the shrine’s keeper was attending the hunt. Those connections were enough to justify all kinds of arrangements.

All the people who had come to send off their loved ones trooped down to see what the fuss was about, and the relief from them was palpable, including from my own family. I’d previously mentioned to them that Ikfael was planning something, but hadn’t gone into details, not knowing what they were myself. Now, though, Billisha, Aluali, and even Bihei were as chipper as birds in the springtime. They laughed as people came to pat me on the head and share their thanks for what I’d done.

Even Inleio’s ghost looked pleased, at least for a moment, before he turned to stare once more toward the village’s eastern boundary.

Ikfael’s actions had created an unintended morale boost. Or maybe not so unintended? I thought as we waved our goodbyes and headed out. Our Ikfael is clever, after all. She must’ve known how the villagers would react to her presence. Still, this arrangement is clearly more than just about morale or food. She must really be worried.

The three hunter teams traveled in a line—Mumu’s in the lead, Susu’s in the middle, and Dura’s bringing up the rear. It was a typical arrangement and would only change if we somehow lost Borba’s trail, in which case we’d switch to an arrowhead formation to better facilitate picking it back up.

That wasn’t needed for now. Borba had plunged into the forest shortly after escaping the village, and his empowered steps had left deep marks in the earth; the stink of his qi led us northeast. We’d assumed he’d stick to the road since he’d be able to go faster without having to avoid the forest’s usual obstacles, but no—he’d gone straight into the woods as soon as he’d been able.

About half an hour later, we realized why. Mumu came back from scouting ahead to show us where Borba’s stride had shortened. He’d gone from running to stalking—his prints now only half a foot apart—in the direction of a stand of ferns just outside the broad expanse of an oak tree. It looked like he’d paused there, and then the prints stretched out again in a series of leaps toward the tree’s trunk.

There, we found the remains of a two-tailed fox, or what was left of her, anyway. The vixen had been disemboweled, and the heart, liver, and kidneys were missing, as well as the animal’s light. There wasn’t any evidence of a struggle, so Borba had likely surprised the fox, ending the animal’s life quickly by breaking her neck. Then he’d torn the belly open to devour the organs raw.

The trees around us were furious, their limbs shaking with rage. The fox’s ghost, too, bared her teeth and barked soundlessly. She almost looked rabid, but she didn’t try to attack any of the hunters. Instead, she took off running in circles around the trees.

As I watched her, I also saw that the disturbance extended farther than just the immediate area around the oak. There appeared to be spirits twenty, thirty, and even forty yards away who were similarly angry. That didn’t make sense, not unless all these trees were connected in some way or Borba had hunted additional creatures nearby. Which still puzzled me, since the evidence pointed to him not lingering after killing the fox. His tracks led directly to the northeast—a couple of ordinary steps before he started to run again.

“Something feels wrong,” Mumu muttered.

“You notice it too?” I signed.

Mumu nodded. “Borba might’ve intentionally left the fox here to delay us... or to give him time to backtrack and ambush us.” She whistled, calling the other teams forward to warn them to be on guard.

The hunters spread out, slipping between the trees and the underbrush. Those that knew the Camouflage spell or had special hiding abilities used them. As for my team, Mumu and I searched the area while Haol climbed the oak for a better vantage on the area and Tegen and Teila posted at the tree’s base.

As I moved, I opened my spirit eyes as wide as possible, yet didn’t see anyone sneaking through the area other than the hunters that had come with us. Some of the trees looked sicklier than the others, and there were disturbances among the small animals that lived in them, but that was it.

‘That smell...’ The thought from Yuki directed my attention to the closest of the sickly trees.

What is it? I asked.

‘The scent is Borba’s.’ Yuki must’ve felt my confusion, because they continued, ‘It’s faint, but definitely him.’

I detoured to the tree in question, an horotonei. About a third of its leaves had already fallen, creating a carpet of yellows, oranges, and reds, and it made the whole area smell of cardamom. Even after I shifted some of the leaves aside, I didn’t spot any tracks in the earth. There weren’t any marks along the tree’s roots or on its trunk either.

The sickly spot was farther up, where the lowest branch met the trunk. Maybe it’s an infection or something—

‘That’s where the smell is coming from,’ Yuki cut in.

Hmm... okay. I’ll head up for a closer look.

I whistled to draw the attention of any nearby hunters, and when Miri and Dura appeared out of a stand of bushes, I whispered, “Watch, guard. I’m climbing.”

They both nodded in response, so I turned my attention back to the tree. It was shaped a lot like a California bay laurel, one that’d grown for forty or fifty years, with a smooth bark and yellow stripes. The lowest branch was about ten feet up, so I cast a quick Bear’s Strength and took a couple of steps to get a running jump. Even with the spell’s help, though, I didn’t reach the branch, so I grabbed onto the trunk and pulled myself up the rest of the way.

In the join between the trunk and branch, came the dim glimmer of Borba’s qi. And not just the remnants either—there was the telltale flicker of his Siphon ability.

I stared, dumbfounded.

In all the hunts I’d gone on with Borba after he’d turned dusk, he’d only used Siphon on animals. It never occurred to me he could also use the ability on trees, although when I thought about it, it made sense that it should work—trees had qi just like every other living creature.

I quickly glanced around the immediate area and counted at least another five or six trees with the same sickly cast. I dropped to the ground and rushed to check them out.

Miri and Dura looked alarmed by my actions, so I said, “Wait, wait. No threat.”

Well, it wasn’t imminent, but there was danger—every tree I checked showed evidence of Borba’s ability at work: a thin slash from one of his claws and the glimmer of his qi. He’d taken pains to hide his handiwork, but my spirit eyes revealed the sources of the trees’ illness and showed me where to look.

The other thing I noticed was that Borba’s qi pulsed slowly—a steady draw as opposed to the greedy gulping down that I was used to witnessing. The trees were clearly meant to be a battery, a hidden source of ongoing power.

I felt Yuki rustling in the back of my head, and I started to catch recollections of Borba lazily drawing his claws across tree trunks as he walked. It wasn’t anything obvious, and it was almost always after a hunt, when he was at least temporarily satisfied.

How long? I asked.

‘From when we first saw him carve a tree? At least five weeks.’

Do we know how many?

If Yuki could’ve shaken their head, they would’ve. ‘There’s no way to tell, but it was likely dozens. It’s probably how he escaped—the slow accrual of enough qi to eventually break free. He must’ve been biding his time until he was ready.’

So Peng’s team didn't screw up, I thought. Ugh. Borba’s only going to get stronger too. We’re in a forest—there’s no lack of trees. Plus, with that much energy to spare, he’s not going to have any trouble holding onto his stolen qi abilities.

‘We can assimilate his qi and nullify his Siphon ability on anything we find, but the effort will delay us,’ Yuki added.

It would mean keeping a constant eye out for sickly trees—and creatures too, for that matter.

Dura approached while I was thinking through the implications. “What has you so worried?”

Before I could answer, though, Mumu also came striding over. “We found signs of Borba sneaking through this area, and we think he was hunting more animals. He even climbed some of the trees in desperation. His luck must’ve been poor, though, because we found no evidence of kills. Since it’s no longer likely this is an ambush, we’re moving on.”

I shook my head. “It's worse than you think.”

6

In the Woods

The rain started to fall in earnest as the team leaders consulted. Big, fat drops plopped against the forest's canopy, the water collecting into thin streams that poured down on the hunters. My lodge brothers and sisters crouched among the trees, waiting to hear how we’d respond to what Borba had done.

Everyone looked pensive. It didn’t stop them from being alert and keeping their eyes roving over the woods in case something dangerous approached, but there was a distracted air to the gathered hunters’ spirits, revealed in the physical world as narrowed eyes and intermittent glances to the northeast.

In the meantime, Yuki kept me busy, since I was their transport between each of the Siphoned trees. Their qi tendrils disappeared into the areas where Borba had wormed into the trunk, and I caught echoes of the taste: a mixture of blood, earth, sour, and spicy, with the texture somehow damp and dry at the same time. Yuki wasn’t a fan—apparently not much compared to my qi these days—but they didn’t find the flavors quite as distasteful as I did.

I scowled and did my best to ignore the sensations. That got me some sympathetic looks from the other hunters, but only because they thought it was me dealing with Borba’s qi. Of the people present, only my team knew about Yuki and the role they played in my life.

Each tree took about ten minutes to de-Siphon, not including the time needed to climb up, climb down, and travel in between. The consensus, though, was that it needed to be done. The more Borba fed, the more dangerous he became. A single tree might not count for much, especially if it was being drained slowly, but dozens, hundreds? They’d give him qi for days.

No, we needed Borba hungry, so that he wouldn’t be able to travel as far, weakening him and increasing the likelihood he’d make stupid decisions. None of us expected him to do anything truly imbecilic, like attacking a creature outside of his ability to handle, but it was easy to stumble into careless errors when starved.

After the third tree, Mumu brought everyone together to announce the team leaders’ decision: “The rain works against us and muddies the signs of Borba’s passage. At the same time, what Eight is doing to hobble our prey is critical to the success of the hunt. Therefore, we’ve decided to split our efforts. Haol, Tegen, and I will pursue Borba’s trail, moving quickly so that we don’t lose him. We will leave signs so that everyone else can follow while you take care of the trees and other creatures that Borba left behind to power his abilities.”

Teila raised her hand. “I understand why Eight should stay behind, but why me?”

“You are a diligent apprentice, but the pace we will set is still beyond you. The three of us,” Mumu said, gesturing to Haol and Tegen, “are the strongest hunters in Voorhei. We have the best chance of fighting or fleeing successfully.”

My ego poked me, but I shushed it. Yes, my skills and abilities should have put me firmly in the group that would be going ahead, yet I was needed for clearing the Siphons, and Mumu didn’t need to complicate her speech with a bunch of explanations and exceptions. She was doing her best to draw a clear line so that people could easily understand the rationale. I got that.

From the look on Teila’s face, she didn’t like being left behind either, but she also didn’t say anything. Then, she shook away whatever she was thinking and sent a rueful look my way, which I returned.

“What other questions do you have?” Mumu’s eyes shifted from hunter to hunter, almost like she was daring them to object.

The hunters gazed back at her. There was just the sound of the rain falling in response, the muted music of the forest around us. All of them were steady on the surface, but a few spirits wavered. She was still young, our Mumu, and there were hunters who clearly missed the seasoned experience of Inleio.

“That’s well, then,” Mumu said. “Be safe, and catch up when you can.” Then she gestured to Haol and Tegen, and the three slipped away. It took only a breath or two for them to disappear into the forest.

Once they were gone, a sigh went through the gathered hunters—not so much a physical exhalation as release of tension.

“Dura? Is this all right?” came a voice from behind me; I didn’t catch who it was.

The other hunters must’ve also been curious to hear the question's answer, because their attention turned toward the team leader. Dura rubbed the back of his head and glanced aside to Susu while gathering his thoughts.

I’d done my best to network within the lodge, but I still didn’t know either of the team leaders well.

My impression of Dura was that he was the friendly sort, with smiling eyes and a gentle spirit. Often, whenever I encountered him in the village running errands, he’d be carrying either a child on his shoulder or a young animal in his arms. It’d been a while since I’d last checked him with my Status camera, so I took a quick look:

Durasta the Hunter (Human)

Talents: Easy in the Woods, Practiced Spear, Friend of the Small

Susu, on the other hand, was tallish and thickset. Her eyes were set in a broad face and had a fierce cast to them, like they’d poke holes in whatever she was looking at. Her most notable feature, though, was her hands. They were fine and delicate looking, like she ought to be a pianist. It was such a strange contrast to her personality, which was coarse, and yet that rough manner was what was apparently needed to keep the hunters on her team organized. I looked at her talents too:

Susunou (Human)

Talents: Natural Butcher, Get ‘er Done

After a while, Dura said, “Our lodge master is young, but her spear is sharp. Wily too. Do you remember the musk oxen from a season ago? It was her plan that saw them defeated. She’s led many successful hunts.” He nodded to himself, as if recognizing the wisdom of his own words. “If you trusted Inleio’s judgement, then you must trust Mumu, because he chose her for us.”

“But to go with just three?” This time I saw who was speaking; it was Miri. “That’s reckless. We all saw how Borba was able to fight the King of the Forest almost all on his own. If the apprentices need to be held back, fine, I understand. But then reshuffle the teams. Both you and I can use qi-magic. She should’ve taken us with her and kept five as her team’s number.”

“That would leave those remaining without any qi-users,” Ahlrein said.

Um, hello? Teila and I are right here.

Before I could say anything, though, Miri countered, “Just like any other hunt for your team.”

“Not every prey is Borba,” Ahlrein snapped.

Dura whistled, interrupting what looked to be an argument in the making. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention again, he said. “A hunter is flexible. Think of it this way: Mumu's not shorting herself, she’s ensuring the safety of those following after, which is why she didn’t bring Miri and me along with her.” He glanced from hunter to hunter, but his eyes were a lot milder than Mumu’s had been. “For now, we shouldn’t delay any longer. The more we talk, the farther we fall behind.”

Dura turned toward Teila and me: “Eight, if you please, continue cleansing the trees. Teila, you should stick with him, since the two of you are used to working together.”

I saw a few heads nod along to his speech, but not everyone seemed convinced. They still dispersed, though, to take up positions in the area, and Teila jogged to where I was standing.

“Which tree is next?” she asked.

The closest was an ash surrounded by a leafy halo of oranges and reds about fifteen yards away. The mark on its trunk looked to be within easy jumping distance, so I gestured in its direction and we jogged over.

When we reached the tree, I confirmed Borba’s mark. Then, I leapt up with a burst of Bear’s Strength. The nearest branch to the mark wasn’t thick enough to hold my full weight, so I wrapped my legs around the trunk and looped an arm around the branch as a brace.

As Yuki went to work, I turned back toward Teila. She had had a thoughtful expression, and I wondered if it was because of what had just happened with the other hunters. Having one’s abilities discounted like that didn’t feel good, or maybe it was the criticism of Mumu. Ah, I bet it’s—“Is everything all right between your parents?” I asked.

Teila glanced up and shrugged. “It’s how they are. My father is annoyed that every team has at least one person who can use magic except for his. It’s something he wishes he could do.”

“Ah, I understand.” And I truly did—it’d be awful to live in a world of magic and not be able to use it myself. “The talk questioning Mumu’s leadership, that didn’t concern you?”

“What? Is this the Little Pot questioning the appropriateness of questions?”

“Maybe. I know it’s hard seeing people not trust someone you care about.”

It’d never been lost on me that Teila frequently mimicked Mumu and her mannerisms: the braids in which her hair was woven, the way she arranged her gear, and even her postures when sneaking and hunting. It was true that both of Teila’s parents were hunters, and I saw bits of them in her too, but it was Mumu who she most aspired to be.

Teila sighed and went back to scanning the area. “One day, not long after you’d first arrived at the village, I found Inleio and Mumu talking, and asked about your nickname. I was upset at our hunters for making fun of you, but they explained it was actually a name of honor. That the best hunters were curious, and that questions were tools, just like our knives, spears, and bows.”

She paused, and her spirit shimmered, as if something sacred was being brought to the surface. “Inleio said that the real prey of any hunter was the truth of themselves and the world. Our skills, talents, and practices are just how we get there.” She glanced up again, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “So no, the questions didn’t upset me. Our hunters were testing the truth of their understanding and the way we do things, like checking the solidity of the ground before walking on it.”

The glow surrounding her spirit peaked, and then settled just under the surface.

“That conversation with Inleio meant a lot to you,” I said.

“It did, but I’m worried about falling behind. I see you and Mumu always moving ahead, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to catch up.”

“You’re not exactly slacking,” I said. “You’ve earned two new spells in the past season.”

“Compared to the hunter who contributed a basket full of eltaak so that he could learn all the spells available to apprentices? And you have six talents. That’s not something you can earn from the lodge.”

Well, I had eight talents, but no one other than Yuki knew that, except for Diriktot, the Fallen God of Order. It was his System we were all using, after all. Speaking of which, I took a moment to check Teila’s Status.

Teila Mirisdaughter (Human)

Talents: Wood-Wise

Nascent: Stealthy, True Hunter

I’d seen it happen a couple of times before—an eruption from deep within a person’s spirit, shimmering as it surfaced—and in both instances, the phenomena presaged a change in their talents.

The first case had been Ben from Kesa’s team. He’d been spending a lot of time practicing his spells, and I’d happened to be present when he managed to unlock a new talent called Balanced Magician. According to the lodge’s records, it’d help him grow his capacity for either qi or mana, depending on whichever was smaller.

The whole lodge celebrated that night, since that was Ben’s fourth talent.

The second case was one of my own kids—Aluali’s Wisdom attribute had hit rank 10 early, and he picked up the Introverted talent on reaching the milestone. The whole family had been lounging in the Glen watching one of Ikfael’s shows, and I’d spotted a flare of spiritual energy coming from him. Then he’d suddenly stood up, his eyes wide, and said, “Milestone. It has to be a milestone.”

We’d clustered around him, curious, and listened as he described how it felt—like a fruit growing until the skin burst—and his impressions of the new talent—like there was a starry sky inside him. I’d thought Billisha might be jealous, but she was nothing but happy for him.

Anyway, when I looked at Teila’s Status, I saw a new nascent talent that hadn’t been there before: True Hunter.

“You’re right—the lodge can’t give you talents, but with enough practice, three is the direction of five.”

Teila quirked her head. “What are you saying, Little Pot?”

“That effort matters, and you should keep pursuing the truth of being a hunter. There’s a talent in you for it.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Is that something you see?”

I nodded. “Just now.”

Teila fell into silence, yet I couldn’t help but notice the relief shuddering through her. Resolve too. She was such a good girl.

Inside me, Yuki snickered.

Shush, you. She’s nine. Now, more importantly, how’s it going?

‘Almost done,’ Yuki said, and then I felt their qi withdraw from the tree. ‘There we go, time to move on to the next one.’

Another half an hour went by before we finished. At the rate we’d been going, it would’ve taken longer, but Yuki sped up as they became more familiar with the process. Once I’d reported the last tree cleansed, Dura gathered everyone up for a head count and quick briefing before we left to follow Borba’s trail.

I had thought I might join Susu’s group to fill their empty apprentice spot, and so that they’d at least temporarily have a caster with them, but Dura assigned both Teila and me to the center—the protected area—of his group. That had the two of us looking askance at each other again. I mean, that was where we were always positioned on our own team, but on Dura’s?

I brought up the idea of traveling with Susu’s team, but Dura nixed it right away. “Apprentices are in the middle of the formation,” he said, and as the most senior team leader present, he was in charge. So, that was apparently that.

At least we were able to move relatively quickly through the woods once we departed. Mumu and the others had left signs for us to follow, though their marks on the trees were a lot more innocuous than Borba’s.

The rain lifted, and the sun played peekaboo from behind the clouds, its rays cutting through gaps between leaves to cover the ground with puddles of light. The trees themselves had sleepy spirits and barely seemed to notice us as we passed them.

We crossed a couple of small streams—little things that were easily managed—before we eventually stepped out from under the forest’s canopy onto a cleared passage with a road running through it. The trees to either side had been chopped down, leaving the stumps behind, and the road itself was about twenty feet wide and paved with flat, rectangular stones joined together with concrete.

This was the highway that led to Albei. All we’d have to do is turn right and we’d eventually arrive at the city. We waited just inside the tree line for Susu and her team to catch up, using the opportunity to drink from our water skins and enjoy the sunbreak.

It was about then that Teila caught sight of something—I saw her head snap to the west—and she whistled harshly. It was an alarm meant to get people into hiding right away, so the hunters melted into the trees. I did the same, casting both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter.

A smear of colors made its way cautiously toward Teila, but I recognized the spirit behind the Camouflage spell as belonging to Dura. “Is it Borba?” he asked, whispering.

“Cutter hawks,” Teila whispered back. “Eleven saqilm west, north of the road.”

The forest shifted as all the nearby hunters turned to look. There, about thirty yards away, were a series of century-old oaks, their canopies wide enough to partially cover the road. Movement flickered among them as a kettle of what looked like miniature red-tailed hawks repositioned throughout their branches.

Cutter Hawk (Animal)

Talents: Sharp-Beaked, Prey for Life

Cutter Hawk (Animal)

Talents: Don’t Blink, Ten Thousand Cuts

Cutter Hawk (Animal)

Talents: Aerial Superiority, The Widening Gyre

There were three-to-four dozen of the birds, and the ones I checked with my Status camera possessed talents similar to the first three—looking like they provided bonuses to things like maneuverability, rending flesh, and working together.

The spirits of the hunters around me colored with dismay, and my own gut tightened. There were just so many of the cutter hawks, and from what I’d been told, they attacked like aerial piranha. They were supposed to be able to strip the flesh from a man in less than a minute.

A group of massed hunters could potentially shoot some down, but not all, and not unless the arrows were empowered; the birds were agile enough to avoid regular ones. No, the traditional response to cutter hawks was wide-area magic, which was usually provided by either the element-touched or master hunters. If Mumu had been with us, for example, she'd use the Thousand Spears spell she’d been learning.

I heard someone whisper, “What do we do? We can’t leave them this close to the road.”

Another voice whispered, “Not just the road—the village isn’t that far by air.”

“This is why you’re not supposed to split the party. Mumu—”

“Enough,” Dura whispered. “Remember your trail discipline.”

“Susu’s team will arrive any moment,” Teila whispered. “If they miss us and step out onto the road, the hawks will spot them immediately.”

Dura’s spirit roiled as he considered his options. I caught him looking between the hawks, the hunters around him, and the path behind us. A feeling like ice grew at his center. “Teila, make your way along our backtrail to warn Susu’s team of the danger. Miri, you go with her. Both of you stay Camouflaged until you’re well away. The rest of us will remain here to track the hawks in case they move. If, for some reason, they catch sight of us, I’ll draw them off. The rest of you stay hidden.”

“But—” I began.

“Losing one is better than losing all,” Dura whispered.

“And losing none is even better,” I whispered back. “If they notice us, send me instead. I can draw the hawks away, and then disappear from their senses.”

Dura shook his head, his Camouflage smearing. “I won’t risk our most promising apprentices. Inleio would have my hide.”

“Inleio’s dead,” I said.

“He’d still find a way to take it.” Dura turned to Teila. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she asked me, “Eight, what about your Spark?”

Spark? The spell had worked well on the giant owl, but there’d only been one of him. Technically, it could jump from target to target, but only if the caster’s control was good and there was enough mana to power it. In practice, I’d gotten the bolt to jump three times in a single cast. But if I kept the mana flowing...

What do you think? I asked Yuki.

Their qi revolved around itself as they thought it through. ‘It’s not possible to create an aurora like the kalihchi bear did. We’d be working against the runes to do that—the spell is designed to focus the electricity into a single bolt. Hmm... instead we could—’

—use my affinity to affect the lightning after it’s been generated by the spell, like using a splitter on a line. Yes, I see. That should let us branch it—

‘—it’d literally be like branches extending from the trunk of a tree—’

—and if we both cast, using both hands, that’s double the output.

Yuki’s qi flipped in anticipation. ‘The spell would look like burning hands from Dungeons & Dragons, except with lightning.’

I couldn’t help smiling at the thought. I mean, there was a death blender just down the road, and that was scary as hell, but cool was cool.

“Yes, I should be able to cast the spell wide enough,” I said aloud to the group. “We should be able to kill the hawks once they’re stunned. A few hunters will have to watch out for any outside the affected area though.”

“That can be managed,” Teila said. “I’ll leave now to get Susu’s team. We're going to need all our knives unsheathed once Eight goes into action.” She turned toward where Dura crouched, listening. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I thought I’d help make my and Eight’s capabilities clearer.”

“No one has said anything about Spark being used in this way,” Dura said.

“It hasn’t ever been,” Teila said. “Our Eight just came up with it now.”

Dura’s confusion manifested as a purple haze around his head. “Then how did you know to ask him?”

Faintly, the shimmer of a smile graced Teila’s spirit. “I’ve seen him play during a thunderstorm.”

The haze around Dura didn’t go away, but he said, “Then I thank you for contributing to this hunt. Now, you and Miri go to find Susu’s team. Once they arrive, we’ll put this plan to kill the hawks into action. In the meantime, we continue as I’ve previously instructed. If the hawks notice us, I will lead them away.”

I started to speak, but Dura's gaze hardened. “Not Eight, me. He is needed for this plan of Teila’s. We will not risk him unnecessarily.”

I sighed and put away my objections. Susu’s team shouldn’t be that far behind, so hopefully Dura wouldn’t have to make any sacrifices. Still, I said a short prayer to speed Teila and Miri along as they slipped away.

7

Cutter Hawks

An unnatural quiet settled over the forest. The trees themselves didn’t seem to mind the hawks’ presence, but the smaller animals hid among the roots and the leaves, occasionally calling out to warn the others of their kind about the danger present.

The hawks stirred in response, and a bird or two took flight, only to land again shortly after. It was difficult to get a read on so many clustered spirits, since they blurred together, but there was a sharpness to them, a thin line separating anticipation from action.

More birds fluttered from branch to branch, but the hawks mostly stuck to the trees. If anything, there was an informal, unorganized migration in our direction. The minutes stretched out as the hunters nervously kept watch and the hawks inched closer.

Finally, we heard a low whistle from about twenty yards to the southeast, not exactly on our backtrail, but not too far off either. Moving carefully, the hunters of Susu’s team came into sight. From the tense expressions on their faces, it was obvious they’d gotten the message about the hawks.

Susu edged forward into whispering distance, and I suddenly caught the meaty smell of dead game. She had a mink with her, an arrow wound spoiling the beautiful fur. “We brought bait. After Teila explained the plan, we thought it’d make more sense to bring the hawks closer together before starting.”

Dura sighed in appreciation, while I kicked myself for not thinking of the idea first. The hawks were all at different distances, and if I just stepped out into the open, some of them would reach me sooner than others.

I’d have to start my Sparking Hands... Spark Field... Face Full ‘o Sparks... whatever. The names I’d been considering were terrible, but the point was: I’d have to start the spell before all the hawks were in range. Some of them would avoid the effects.

“Thank you,” Dura said. “That’s good thinking.”

“My team may not be as talented,” Susu whispered, her spirit billowing with pride, “but that just means we have to be more clever to succeed.”

Dura nodded. “Everyone contributes, and many spears make for a short hunt.”

“And a successful one,” Susu whispered. “May the spirits of the land make it so.”

"Honored Ikfael—” Dura said.

“We shouldn’t count on her help,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m not saying she won’t assist us if things go badly, but...” My words trailed off, because I didn’t know how to diplomatically frame the next part.

While Ikfael had a kind of generalized allegiance to Voorhei, she didn’t care that much about any individual hunter or villager. The only exceptions were my family and maybe Mumu, and her only because she was so appreciative of Ikfael’s art. That, and she brings gifts.

I was still searching for the right words when I noticed the hawks’ spirits sharpening. A few crossed the line from anticipation to action and were starting to launch into the air—their attention was on us, or more specifically the scent of blood coming from the mink.

“They’ve noticed us,” I quickly said. “Toss the mink out onto the road.”

Susu didn’t have to be told twice. She chucked the body right out there, and it landed a bit shy of the road’s far edge.

Suddenly, the air was full of flapping wings and a high-pitched screaming that raised the hairs along my arms. It just sounded so wrong for hawks. I wasn’t the only one to think so, either; the spirits of the hunters around me all shuddered with fear.

Still, they were professionals. Everyone readied their weapons and prepared to follow me out into the open, where the hawks swarmed above the mink’s body.

Dura whispered, “Little Pot, count three breaths, then head out. Miri, Teila, and I will provide cover with our bows. The rest, count ten breaths before following Eight with your knives, but only if most of the hawks are down. Run if you need to.”

By the time he was done talking, my three breaths had come and gone, so I re-Camouflaged and dashed forward to close the distance. The hawks tumbled about in the air like it was boiling. Briefly, a gap opened, and I glimpsed the mink’s carcass; it had already been stripped of meat, and the birds at the edges of the roiling mass were starting to disperse.

I summoned the rune for Spark and felt Yuki mirror me—the mana transformed into two separate streamers, one for each hand. There was a bang as the electricity arced and birds started dropping to the ground, twitching.

The spell drained my mana—four points for the original cast and about a point for every second it was active. Normally, that meant twenty seconds for me and twenty-three seconds for Yuki, but I flexed my will against the electricity to flare the streamers more strongly.

The spell imparted an intent which constrained the lightning to a single line, even when the conditions around it would have normally caused it to split. What I was doing was pushing-coaxing-demanding that the lightning ignore that intent and instead recognize all the other nearby opportunities to jump-flow-seek.

That caused my and Yuki’s mana to drain even faster as we overcame the intent attached to the lightning. A glowing, arcing wave of skyfire spread before me. And in that moment, my face hurt from grinning so hard.

Arrows shot past—the air cracking with the sound of a couple Spiral Pierce spells—and I saw more birds fall to the ground. There were still quite a few in the air, though, so I pushed forward, waving my hands to catch as many I could.

I heard the hunters behind me, and the sound of knives stabbing into flesh. The hawks’ screams turned into shrieks; the scent of burning meat and feathers filled my nose.

Then I felt a tug against my cloak, and something warm flowing down my shoulders. A quick glance at my Status showed that I’d picked up the Bleeding (1) condition. That quickly turned into Bleeding (2) when another hawk got behind me and scraped across the back of my head with its claws. I gritted my teeth against the pain, but couldn’t do anything else. If I swung around to protect myself, I’d catch the other hunters in the lightning’s area of effect.

I noticed, then, that the hawks farthest away from me had escaped unharmed—a good dozen of them. By branching the lightning, I’d also shortened the distance over which it streamed. Panic shot through my gut when I saw them dive toward me and the hunters behind me.

Yuki, gods bless them, dropped their half of the spell and cast Air Shield to deflect the hawks away, at least for a moment. Then, they cast Collaut’s Hide and Iron Heart on me. The combination slowed my bleeding, temporarily bringing the condition down from (2) to (1).

‘You have only two more seconds of Spark if you want to keep enough mana for Healing Water,’ they said.

I nodded, let the spell go, and pulled two knives from their scabbards. Dimly, I noted that the arrows coming from the tree line weren’t empowered. Each of the magic-using hunters only had the capacity for only two or three spells before they were out of qi.

I threw myself into the melee, trusting my defensive spells to keep the damage to a minimum. I hollered and swung my arms to draw the hawks’ ire while the other hunters desperately stabbed at the birds still on the ground.

The hawks in the air flew like maniacs—moving in acrobatic maneuvers that should’ve been impossible. I didn’t hit a single one, but I did succeed in getting their attention. I felt them pelt against me, their claws slicing, their beaks ripping into my flesh. I had on my hauberk, and my spells toughened my skin and body, so the hawks mostly failed. Sometimes, though, they struck fiercely enough to succeed.

When I spun around to defend myself, I felt a bit of my left cheek flap. Blood flew, along with my sweat. Yuki was already powering my defensive spells, so I cast Nature’s Spring, letting the healing energy soak into my own body.

Around me, the other hunters weren’t immune to harm either. I caught sight of red-smeared faces and torn, blood-stained clothing. But even when the last of the stunned hawks was killed, there were still birds in the air. The fight continued.

Everyone spread out so that we could move through the knife forms for fighting multiple small aerial attackers. The hunters looked like dancers, their arms flowing, and I joined them as best I could. My Knife Arts skill was only at rank 5, though, and I’d yet to hit a single hawk.

This isn’t working, I thought. Switch.

I felt Yuki’s acknowledgement, and Collaut’s Hide dropped away. In its place, my meridians filled with the rush of Dog’s Agility and the absolute need to go fast, fast, fast. My breath laboring, I focused on catching sight of the hawks and knocking them to the ground.

The air snapped when I attacked, and I started to connect—with my knife, the lower part of my fist, and sometimes even my forearm. It wasn’t a clean fight, not by any means, but I took what I could get. Even a slight wobble in a hawk's flight meant a better chance for one of us to kill it.

Men and hawks screamed as they fought and were injured. The fight dragged on and on until a time came when I spun around, looking for the next bird, desperately shoving qi at my eyes to help with seeing through their maneuvers, and noticed the air was empty.

Dura yelled from the tree line, “Healing! We need healing now!”

He had Susu on the ground beside him, his hands pressed against a wound at the base of her neck. Another three figures had been dragged into the brush nearby to get them out of the way of the fighting. A quick glance showed that every hunter present was hurt, but most were at least able to walk, me among them.

Yuki let Dog’s Agility go to cast Nature’s Spring on me, the spell now doubled since I still had it flowing. At the same time, I dropped my knives, pulled my water skin, and ran for Susu. The spell for Healing Water shimmered inside me, a coolness in the aftermath of Spark’s hot, electric hum.

Dura was already casting Nature’s Spring on her, but Susu's wound continued to seep blood from under his hands despite the spell. I thought, One of the bigger veins must’ve been nicked. The cut stretched from her right collarbone to just under her larynx.

“Move your hands,” I said.

Dura did as he was told, and I poured my spell onto Susu’s neck. We both watched as her flesh slowly knit itself together, the blood finally stopping when the water skin was nearly empty.

“There’s more,” he said, and turned her over to reveal a section of her lower back and butt that looked like it’d been shredded with razors. It was a red, ropey mass soaked with even more blood.

I dumped what was left in the water skin, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Yuki?

‘We saved enough mana for one final spell.’

Bless you, I thought, and then said aloud, “I need more water.”

At some point Teila had come up beside me, and she handed me hers. My body tingled as Yuki wove their spell, and I carefully doused the area, spreading the healing out as necessary.

The shredded skin of Susu’s lower back reformed. It was still a puffy red in the spell’s aftermath, but the bleeding stopped. Dura then placed his palms on the affected area and let his Nature’s Spring flow.

I reminded Dura: “I also have Nature’s Spring. I’m using it on myself now, but—”

He shook his head. “I’ll see to Susu. I should have enough qi left to get her up and moving.”

At my shoulder, Teila said, “I have qi left. If I knew the spell, I could help.”

When I’d first met her, Teila had only known the Camouflage spell. Then, after the kalihchi bear hunt, she’d picked up Spiral Pierce and Dog’s Agility. That had come as a surprise to absolutely no one, since Teila took after Mumu, and Mumu took after Inleio. Under his tutelage, all of Voorhei’s magic-using hunters tended toward those three spells. Along with the spear, knife, and bow, the spells and skills formed the core of the lodge’s fighting style.

I glanced toward Teila and saw that her spirit had an anxious tension, like she wanted to be of help but something was holding her back.

Her mother Miri was nearby casting Nature’s Spring on one of the hunters pulled from the fight. Ahlrein, her father, was getting a cut on his arm bandaged. The two of them exchanged looks, little bits of spirit passing between them as they communicated nonverbally

Ahlrein shrugged, as if to say, “Your decision.”

Miri cleared her throat. “Dura, wouldn’t you say that it was Teila’s plan that brought down four dozen cutter hawks?”

Dura sent a questioning look at Miri. “Yes?”

Something was about to happen between them—there was that kind of feeling in the air—but I couldn’t just stand there and watch. There were still two hunters gravely injured, plus all the other wounded groaning in pain. I ran to one whose spirit’s aura was fading at the edges. His face looked pale, but he smiled wanly when I crouched next to him.

“Thank you,” he whispered as I placed my hands on his shoulder and redirected my Nature’s Spring into him.

His spirit was slow to recover, though, so Yuki also redirected his spell to target the hunter. With two Springs flowing into him, color began to return to the hunter’s face.

Another hunter rushed over to check him for wounds. She found a bleeding cut between his shoulder blades and spread an oily paste smelling of green grass and honey across it. Then, we worked together to prop him up, so that the wound could be bandaged. The rest of his torso was free of injuries, as well as his arms and legs. By the time the examination was done, his spirit had stabilized.

At that point, it was apparently my turn to get treated. My scalp, neck, and face stung when the paste was smeared on me. I waved off the bandages, though, since I planned to cast Healing Water on myself. I just needed half an hour’s rest to recover enough mana for the spell and figured Yuki would be able to keep my own bleeding contained until then.

I moved onto to treat the next gravely injured hunter with another double-shot of Nature’s Spring. This one had a long scrape on the inside of her leg, as well as multiple cuts on her arms and torso. Someone was already bandaging the wounds, but it looked like she’d lost a lot of blood.

In the meantime, the scene between Dura and Miri had progressed. Whatever it was, I just wished they’d hurry it up. We all had work to do.

“So you agree,” Miri said, “that Teila’s contribution is deserving of a new spell? That’s your judgement as this hunt’s leader?”

Dura nodded. “I do, and it is.”

“Then come take over for me here. Susu’s well enough to manage, and I need to instruct my daughter in Nature’s Spring.” Miri held her head high, almost as if daring him to disagree. “She is as worthy an apprentice as any, and just as quick a study.”

He gazed at Miri, his expression complicated. I could almost see the dawning comprehension, the dismay, and the appreciation winding their way through his spirit. “You are bold, Miri.”

"I do what I must and what my daughter needs,” she said.

Dura nodded, and checked to make sure Susu was stable. Then, he shifted his Nature’s Spring, moving himself and the spell to the hunter Miri had been treating.

For her part, Miri told Teila to follow her, and they went just far enough to be still in view but out of earshot. She gestured for about two or three minutes—the patterns recognizable as the ones belonging to the Nature’s Spring spell. The two of them spoke briefly, then they started making their way back.

Teila’s head was down, her spirit radiating a sinking, guilty feeling, but that didn’t stop her from walking over to me and casting Nature’s Spring onto my back. There was no hesitation at all, and her qi flowed smoothly into me.

I set aside my surprise, and said, “There are others more injured.”

“Your Healing Water will help them more than Nature’s Spring.”

Miri came to crouch beside me. “I’ll take over here. You go and meditate. Teila will heal you, so just focus on recovering your mana.”

Healing Water was the more effective spell, they were right about that. I looked around and didn’t see anyone in immediate danger.

“All right,” I said. “I agree that that’s the smart thing to do here.”

I sent a last burst of qi into the hunter I’d been treating before getting out of the way and finding a spot to sit. Before I did anything else, though, I checked my pack to make sure Ikfael’s figurine was untouched and found her with her eyes closed; she’d slept through the whole fight, which was fine. No one was in immediate danger anymore.

Teila knelt behind me and waited for me to tuck Ikfael’s figurine safely away before placing her palms on my back.

“How long?” I whispered.

“Since I first started learning Nature’s Spring?”

“Yes.”

“Since before we met,” Teila whispered. “My mother taught it to me when she learned I was Wood-Wise. The talent could change my family’s future. It... I had to be protected.”

“I see.”

I caught several hunters looking at Teila—the ones free enough to pay attention. Some looked upset, some resigned, and some nodded in approval. It was obvious to everyone that she’d secretly learned the spell in advance of earning it from the lodge, and their reactions were mixed.

As for me? I wasn’t sure what to think, since I was generally someone who played by the rules. At the same time, not all of my spells had come via legitimate means. Plus, we now had the benefit of another hunter with a healing spell to help.

I set aside the thoughts on fairness and let myself sink into meditation. The sooner I recovered my mana, the sooner I could help get the hunters back on their feet, and the sooner we could be ready to face whatever else this world would throw at us.

8

Two Villages

For the next three hours, Yuki and I focused on meditating, driving the qi through my channels, pushing as hard as my meridians could handle. An internal heat built up, a glow centered on my dantians that spread through me. The warmth felt good at first—it being a damp and chilly autumn day—but then got steadily more uncomfortable.

Enough time passed for me to recover twenty-four points’ worth of mana, effectively filling my tank, but then I spent it all again casting Healing Water six times on the injured hunters and myself. Thankfully, between it, Nature’s Spring, the first aid, and the opportunity to rest, we were almost ready to move out again.

Susu still looked a bit peaked, but she gamely stood next to Dura—the two of them consulting on how to proceed. Their conversation took time, although it was the other hunters who really delayed us, since none of them wanted to leave behind fifty-three cutter hawks. They needed another half hour to finish dressing the birds and collect their light.

Each of us got four or five hawks to carry in our packs, with Dura holding onto all the light until it could be split into shares later.

We set off using the same formation as before, with Teila and me at the center of the lead group, yet it was only about twenty minutes before we ran into a cluster of trees showing signs of Borba’s Siphon ability and had to stop again. That effort took another couple of hours, and we were well into the afternoon by the time Yuki was done cleansing the trees.

At the rate we were going, Borba was rapidly outpacing us. After all, it only took him a moment to slash a tree with his claws, and just slightly longer when he tried to hide what he’d done. Dura must’ve had the same thought, because afterward he pushed us to move faster.

None of us were at our best after what had happened with the cutter hawks, but we picked up the pace, jogging past the bits of drab light speckling the forest floor. The wind blew steadily, whipping stray droplets into my face, but it helped mask the sound of our traveling.

At one point, we came across a series of narrow streams, one of which had a log fallen across it. The shape and the way the moss hung from it made it look like a bearded old man. I had to stop to take a closer look, in case it was some kind of treant, but no, it was just the remains of an old cedar.

I took comfort in seeing the others stopping to look too. When I asked, none of them knew of any trees that walked, but I’d encountered one on my spirit journey with Ikfael, so it’d be a mistake to rule out the possibility.

We got moving again, and I eventually spotted an area of the forest where the spirits were disturbed. There, we found evidence of a fight: the still-wet ground had been torn up by multiple feet moving at inhuman speeds. Some of the prints were especially deep, and I recognized the signs of Tegen invoking Bear’s Strength.

We examined the area carefully, hearts-in-our-throats worried for what we’d find, but there was only minimal blood and no evidence of bodies hitting the ground or being laid out to be treated.

Expanding our search turned up more trees being Siphoned by Borba, as well as five stray arrows. The markings on the shafts indicated that one had belonged to Mumu, two to Haol… and two to the deceased Peng. Borba must’ve stolen his bow and arrows.

While I got to work cleansing the trees, the others pieced together what had happened. The answer seemed obvious to me—Borba had attempted to ambush the hunters chasing him, and the result was a draw, with the trail leading farther east and the prints spread far enough apart to indicate empowered sprinting.

While I waited for Yuki to finish working, I considered Borba’s willingness to ambush the lead hunters. It demonstrated a belief on his part that he could take them. Or he’d thought Mumu’s group had been diminished in some way, like for example if they’d just had an encounter with four dozen cutter hawks. They hadn’t, though. No, Mumu’s group had gone past them, leaving the hawks behind for us to handle.

I supposed it was possible that Mumu’s group had missed the hawks in their hurry to chase after Borba, but that didn’t seem likely from hunters of their caliber. Mumu’s not thinking clearly, is she? She didn’t even leave a warning. Unless we somehow missed it?

Yuki’s qi blipped to let me know they were done with the current tree. ‘Maybe she thought we’d follow her example and pass the hawks by? That her anger was our anger and her urgency our urgency.’

Hmm, I thought. We might’ve done that, if not for Teila’s plan. But once we knew we could do something, we had to; we couldn’t in good conscience leave the hawks alone, not as close as they were to the village. Mumu underestimated us. Badly.

‘She tries to hide it, but she is lost in grief.’

“Yeah,” I muttered, shaking my head. People were capable of doing a lot of stupid things when hurt and angry.

I looked, and saw there were a handful of trees still left to treat. We were falling farther and farther behind, but Borba’s taint had to be cleansed. If not, we’d only make the moment when we finally caught up to him worse.

I cursed under my breath and jumped down to run to the next tree—barely noticing when Teila followed to guard my back and the hunters shifted positions to keep the two of us in the center of their formation.

The trail led us northeast to the forest’s edge, the land before us opening onto a wide plain. There were wooded hills in the far distance, but they were miles and miles away, and everything in between was a mixture of meadow, pasture, and farmland. The village of Voorsowen lay neatly nestled into the land, only about a twenty-minute walk from the tree line.

The base of the village’s wall was made of quarried stone blocks and approximately twelve feet high, topped by a wooden palisade that rose another fifteen feet. It was an unusual arrangement, and I suspected the stone base must’ve been slotted to keep the tree trunks that made up the palisade steady.

The gate, I noticed, was closed, and there were no people out in the fields. I did catch the glint of metal moving along the top of the wall, though.

Dura must’ve noticed too, because he held us back from stepping out into the open until Susu’s team could join us. Then, once we were all gathered, we approached the village, hands close to our weapons. Voorhei had a good relationship with Voorsowen, but it was clear that something had caused the village to turtle up.

About halfway to the gate, a group of five riders came into view, galloping around the wall’s north side toward us. All of them carried lances in hand and rode dun-colored horses with dark gold stripes under their manes and at the rump. It was the same breed we had in Voorhei, but these looked larger, their spirits more aggressive.

Their talents confirmed that, and I saw things like Charge Them Down, Hooves Like Steel, Runs Forever, and The Fast ‘n Furious. The people were more mixed. Yes, there were fighting talents—Natural Lancer and An Archer With His Horse among them—but most seemed to be related to ranching. My guess was that these people belonged to the village’s militia.

At about fifteen yards, the riders pulled to a stop, forming a line facing us. The one in the middle squinted in our direction and yelled, “Is that Susunou I see?”

Susu stepped forward and clapped twice. “Aye, it’s me. This is my team with me, and another hunter, Durasta, with his team too. What’s going on?” Under her breath, she whispered. “That’s Thavra. He and me have done business before.”

“What’s going on, you ask—your damn lodge is what. One of your hunters killed nearly half my herd. Then, when we try to talk to your lodge master, she doesn’t listen to a word and runs away.”

“Right,” Susu says, rubbing the back of her neck. “We can explain that. Better let us in to talk to your people.”

“You don’t have any more crazed hunters with you, do you?”

“No, I vouch for these, one and all.”

The man called Thavra gestured, and the horsemen very neatly wheeled around before leading the way to the village’s gate.

“Always been a damn show off,” Susu muttered, and with a gesture of her own, she led us onward.

The walls may have been different, but Voorsowen’s layout was the same as Voorhei’s: a maze constructed of longhouses and plazas designed to slow anyone or anything attacking the village. There were family gardens interspersed, hidden behind the longhouses, which I caught sight of through the gaps in between.

Everyone seemed to be inside their homes, along with their animals. There were a decent number of ghosts out, but none of war dogs, which was weird to me; I’d gotten so used to them in Voorhei.

“They don’t raise dogs here?” I asked.

Teila, walking beside me, shook her head. “Only Albei is allowed to. We got ours from the city when he was a pup.”

“Voorsowen is known for its horses,” Dura said.

“Which they are much too proud of if you ask me,” Susu added. “They’re just meat and bones, like any other animal.”

Dura glanced sideways at her. “Maybe I should do the talking.”

Susu responded with a tight nod and a sigh. “Aye… that may be best.”

The horses clip clopped ahead, the paths turning from dirt to stone, and we came to the pyramid at the village’s center. It was only about half the height of Voorhei’s, though, and not nearly as well decorated. Ours was beautifully engraved with images of spirits and dogs, their eyes embedded with candle stones. The one in Voorsowen had horses and llamas, which was fine, but it looked to me like they’d skimped on hiring good artists. The engravings were short on details and not as polished as they could be.

Someone must’ve let the village leadership know we were coming, because the trio was already standing out in front. All three frowned at the sight of us, but it was the reeve who stepped forward.

Apskala the Reeve (Human)

Talents: Head for Numbers, Merchant’s Brat, Animal Lover

She was a woman in her sixties, with a narrow face and a head full of gray-almost-white hair. Her lips were tight and thin from being pressed so hard together, and if looks could kill, the hunters from Voorhei would all be dead.

“You—” she said. “How will you recompense the people of this village for what you’ve done?”

All around me, the hunters tensed, and I felt their anger rise. Their glares shot past me like arrows.

“Here, now, we’ve only just arrived,” Dura said, protesting.

“A lodge is like a second family, and your family was here earlier, including the master herself, chasing after one of your strays. Have you heard what he did, that monster you’ve made? Three of our people injured, one at death’s door, and twenty horses either dead or in need of putting down, not to mention the slaughtered llamas. So, I ask again, how will you recompense us?”

“That’s not for a man like me to say; I’m just one of many,” Dura replied. “You’ll need to talk to our lodge master—”

“A master who runs away—who can talk to such a woman?”

Voorhei’s hunters practically growled at her words. My own anger was also quick to rise. Mumu was my friend, as well as lodge master, team leader, and business partner. I didn’t like hearing her insulted.

That said, Borba’s actions had already caused damage to the villages’ relationship, and that would be difficult to repair; we shouldn’t tear open the wound further with hot words that might affect the relationship between the villages for years.

I stepped forward to tug on Dura's sleeve. “If they have injured, I can heal them.”

He’d been about to snap at Apskala, so it took a second for him to register what I’d said. He blinked a couple times as the gears turned. “I suppose it is an emergency and you are Ikfael’s shrine keeper. But are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve recovered enough mana to be of help.”

“We can offer it to them, not as compensation though. We’re just one village helping another.”

“What’s that?” Apskala asked. “What are you muttering about?”

Dura clenched his hands, but his words were steady: “We can heal your injured people and animals.”

“We take care of our own,” Apskala said, “and we’ve sent for the Healer’s Lodge too. Unlike some, we take our responsibilities seriously.”

“Listen here, you damned—” Susu yelled, but her team surged forward to pull her back.

“There’s a spell called Healing Water,” I said, “more effective than Nature’s Spring, which is what I’m guessing you’re using.”

Apskala looked incredulous. “You have your apprentices speaking for you now? Just what is happening in Voorhei?”

Dura gritted his teeth, and said, “This is Eight.”

“And what do I care—” she said.

The next voice didn’t come from anyone nearby: “Easy now, Apskala.” It took a second, but I spotted a woman who could’ve been the reeve’s twin, crouching on the roof of the building to our right.

I’d originally registered her out of the corner of my eye, but assumed she was just a bystander watching the drama unfold. Now that I looked, a sign hung above the door of the building under her: the crossed spear and bow of their Hunter’s Lodge. The woman leapt down from the roof and landed with an easy grace.

“I’ve heard of this Eight,” she said, approaching.

Heicata the Lodge Master (Human)

Talents: Number Sensible, Nose for Animals, Soft Walker

Heicata looked me over and shook her head. “I thought it was people telling tales, but you really are as young as they say. And alas, your lodge master is as young as they say too. She made a mistake today. You,” she said, gesturing to Voorhei’s hunters, “need to talk some sense into her about it, while we,” she continued, gesturing to herself and Voorsowen’s leaders, “will not turn down your offer.”

“But—” Apskala began.

Heicata looked meaningfully at her sister. “This is the spell I mentioned.”

“But—” the reeve began again.

“Even with Nature’s Spring,” Heicata said, “our people won’t last long enough for a healer to arrive.”

Apskala shut her eyes for a second, and I saw the fight go out of her. The wrath was still there, burning at the center of her spirit, but she’d given up on exacting anything from the group of hunters in front of her, and the tension in the air diminished by a level.

“Very well,” she said.

Dura said, “Teila and Miri, you help too, while I stay to”—he sighed—“talk to these fine people.”

“Come,” Heicata said, gesturing to the three of us. “I will lead you to the wounded.”

We followed her across the small plaza in front of the pyramid, away from the Hunter’s Lodge and toward a building with a sign above the door featuring a horse’s and a llama’s head facing each other and a half-husked ear of corn in the background.

The building itself was sturdy and squat, as if it had been carved directly into the earth. It had stone walls and a spot in front to hitch horses. A handful of the animals stood outside as we approached, clearly nervous from the way they danced in place, their ears turning toward the building.

When we got closer, I understood why; we heard the pained groans of people, the anxious whinnies of horses, and a throaty alarmed trilling that was new to me. The llamas perhaps?

“Our Rancher’s Lodge,” Heicata said, opening the door. “It is daughter to the Farmer’s Lodge in Albei.”

Right away, I was hit with the scents of blood, meat, and excrement. The room looked like it was normally crowded with desks, but they’d all been shoved to the side to make room for three people and two horses lying on blankets. A set of wide double doors stood open at the back, and through them we saw a courtyard with more injured horses, as well as a handful of—yes—llamas.

The faint scent of Nature’s Spring emanated from an older man kneeling beside one of the horses, while the injured people seemed to be untended.

I dashed toward where a young man’s spirit sat glumly beside his body; a thin silver thread was all that connected the two. I lifted the bandages covering his chest and saw the pale bones of his sternum and the right side of his upper ribs exposed; they were tinged a rusty-red from blood and Borba’s qi.

As I watched, small air bubbles formed and popped. His lung must’ve been punctured, and I reflexively touched my own chest. It’d happened to me too, once, just before I’d saved Billisha and Aluali from slavers. One of them had stabbed me, and it’d taken multiple casts of Healing Water to save myself.

My mana tank felt like it was about three-quarters full, and my water skin bulged thanks to the streams we’d encountered. Driven by my anger for the young man left to die, the runes snapped into place and the cool rush of the healing mana flowed through me, draining some of the heat.

As I poured the water onto the young man’s chest, the bubbles stopped forming, and the flesh around his ribs began to reknit. A second cast of the spell caused the entire wound to close, the skin whole once more. At the same time, Yuki cleansed the invasive qi from his body, and when we were done, there was just an ugly purpling bruise left behind. To my relief, the young man seemed to be breathing normally again. Better yet, his spirit had been drawn back into his body.

A hand grabbed onto my shoulder roughly, and if I hadn’t had an adult’s physical attributes, it would’ve likely hurt. It was the older man who’d been casting Nature’s Spring.

“My horse... can you do that for my horse... my Belteir?”

“The people come first,” I said.

The man blinked at me. “But why? They’re just ranch hands.”

I jerked my shoulder out of his grip and spun around to face him. I must've been faster than he’d expected, because he stumbled backward.

“No one,” I said, “is just anything.”

The old man matched gazes with me. He scowled as he said, “Without the horses, the hands are nothing.”

His attitude pissed me off. How many people had I met who didn’t count for anything except for the cheap labor they provided? We knew better at Southwind and had treated our film crews fairly, but I’d seen way too much of that attitude in my old life to let it go. Anger sparked through me, and I shook my head; my fists clenched, my palms and fingers tingling with electric qi.

“Without the hands,” I said, “there’d be no horses. The people are just as valuable.”

“What, like the boy you just helped? No-talent stumps like him are as common as dirt. Not like my Belteir—he’s sired a horse in the land knight’s very own stable.”

We glared at each other, the two of us, the heat building up inside me until I either had to deck him or do something productive. So, I gritted my teeth and chose to focus on the still-injured people. They were a better use of my time than the fossil in front of me.

I turned away—I’d like to say it wasn’t in a huff, but that’d be a lie. Anyway, I attended to the remaining two ranch hands. Miri and Teila had been treating them with Nature’s Spring, but they’d stopped when the old man and I had exchanged words.

The injured they’d been treating had also been badly clawed by Borba: one along the left hip, while the other’s shoulder had been torn open. Also, the amount of qi in their bodies steadily dropped from Borba’s Siphon ability continuing to act upon them. The qi loss was impeding their bodies’ ability to deal with the wounds.

Miri and Teila stepped aside to let me cast Healing Water on one after the other, and I heard the old man sputter in anger behind me. My own temper had cooled as the mana rushed through me, building up in a wave and then breaking each time I cast the spell. The feeling was one that I would never get tired of.

A few minutes later, after Yuki had finished assimilating the taint Borba had left behind, they said, ‘We have enough mana for three spells.’

I checked our patients, and from their spirits it looked like they were now stable, especially with Miri and Teila continuing to aid them. Meanwhile, the animals nearby continued to call out in distress. They were being treated, but only through mundane means. The only magic I'd sensed came from Miri, Teila, and the old man from earlier.

My attention turned inward toward Yuki. What do you think—should we heal the animals? They're suffering, and we need to cleanse Borba’s qi anyway.

Yuki observed my thoughts. ‘You don’t want to be controlled by your anger.’

Damn straight. The jackass isn’t worth it. I don’t want my reactions to… what the hell is his name, anyway?

Andrassotei the Master Horseman (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Horses Forever, Always Herd, Breeds True, Boss Man

Right, I don’t want this Andrassotei to be the reason why I do or don’t do something. I mean, I’d normally help in a situation like this, so I should, even if its—

Belteir the Swift (Animal)

Talents: The Swift, Easy Rider, The One, A Stallion Never Stalls

I whistled. The horse had four talents. No wonder Andrassotei was anxious to save him.

‘So we’ll heal Belteir too?’ Yuki asked.

Yes, the horse isn’t guilty of the rider’s crimes. But I swear, if I see a smug expression on that jackass’ face, I’ll hit him. I’ll punch him for sure.

Yuki’s qi flipped in agreement, so I turned to find Heicata to let her know my plan—and maybe win a little goodwill too for helping heal the village’s animals. We might need it later. Well, not me personally, but the lodge.

At the moment, she was engaged in an intense, hushed conversation with Andrassotei, but the two of them clammed up when they saw me approach. The jackass began to move forward as if to start talking to me, but Heicata stepped smoothly in front of him.

“Why don’t you attend to Belteir again,” she said.

Andrassotei frowned, but nodded. Then, without a word to me or her, he walked past to kneel by his horse. After a moment, I heard him trying to convince Miri and Teila use their healing spells on the steed.

“We thank you,” Heicata said to me, “for the healing you’ve provided. These are people of Voorsowen, and we are grateful to have them well again.”

I nodded to acknowledge her words, but didn’t say anything—waiting to see what she’d say next. That bit of patience paid off.

“We ask for the favor of also healing our animals, or at least the horses. They are cherished our village; without them, we are nothing.”

“There’s only Nature’s Spring here?” I asked.

“Yes, it is a spell shared among many lodges, including the ranchers.”

“And he”—I gestured over my shoulder towards Andrassotei—“is the only one who can cast it?”

“The master of the Rancher’s Lodge can as well, but he is visiting family in Huwata at this time.”

“So only two people in the whole village?”

With every question, it became clearer and clearer the terrible position Voorsowen was in, and also how much the village needed Voorhei’s help.

“That is unfortunately true. In the past, there’ve been more, but we’ve had some losses of late, as well as fewer children with the talent for magic born.” Heicata looked directly at me. “I am not one to cast blame, but you cannot deny that Voorhei had a hand in what happened today.” Then, her voice dropped into a whisper as she said, “And some of us know that this Healing Water spell of yours is also possessed by your lodge master. She should have stopped her chase. I am a friend to Inleio; what will he say when he hears—”

“Inleio is dead,” I said with a sigh.

Heicata’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s why Mumu behaved as she did. Now, I’m not looking to excuse her behavior, just for you to understand it. And in return, I can say I understand how your people are upset by what happened, and I won’t let it get in the way of healing your animals.”

Heicata took a deep breath and looked at me again, as if seeing me anew. “Inleio was right about you. You really are quite unnatural.”

“And you’re plain speaking.”

“I am, because this village is my heart, and this spell of yours can help save it.” Her eyes bored into mine. “You see, I have no talent for qi, but I do for mana. Teach me the spell for Healing Water, and I’ll make everything right between our villages.”

9

Healing Water

Heicata had put me in a tough spot. Technically, all she had to do was get Ikfael’s permission, which was simple—all it required was making a deal with the otter, and she happened to be literally with me, occupying the stone sculpture in my backpack. The more complicated and substantially harder part was that the spell was currently being contested by the Healer’s Lodge in Albei. They’d claimed it infringed on their rights and responsibilities, and all the lodges took serious issue with anyone who practiced in their field without permission. The only exception was when it came to family.

For example, the Hunter’s Lodge didn’t interfere with people hunting, fishing, or trapping to support their families. However, if they tried to sell or use any of the hides, meat, and bones in something not meant for personal use, they’d be fined and their goods confiscated.

The healers took things a step further: if someone was caught using the specialized skills, tools, and magics of the profession on a non-family member, they risked being permanently cut off from their lodge’s services, in addition to the fines and penalties, which included things like being flogged and branded—hot irons and all—as a false healer.

That had been alarming to hear, but Inleio had insisted the spell was fine to use because the spell’s status was still up in the air. There wouldn’t be any real chance of legal jeopardy until the issue was settled by the land knight in Albei, and because Healing Water had been acquired through an exchange with a spirit of the land, our lodge apparently had a shot at keeping it. The provenance and context mattered.

Previously, a bunch of the lodges had fought for shared access to Nature’s Spring, since that spell was useful for treating minor wounds and keeping people alive. Injuries happened all the time in places like the Hunter and Soldier Lodges, and even farmers got into accidents. There wasn’t always the time or the resources to call a healer, and my understanding was that emergencies were somewhat a gray area under the law anyway.

Viewed cynically, that still made money for the Healer’s Lodge, since they got to treat patients who would otherwise have died, and the amount earned for treating the near-mortal wounds more than made up for missing out on the small stuff—injuries that they likely wouldn’t have been called for anyway.

Plus, the healers couldn’t push too hard, or else they’d lose business to the Alchemist’s Lodge. The alchemists did a lot more than provide healing salves and elixirs, but they produced enough to help keep the Healer’s Lodge in check. Which, as you might guess, the healers didn’t like—not one bit.

Still, the example of Nature’s Spring demonstrated that given the right circumstances, a healing spell could exist outside the Healer’s Lodge, and if it came from a spirit like Ikfael, then that was a sort of spiritual approval.

That was the reason we had any chance at all of keeping the spell. Otherwise, the situation exemplified the power of monopolies, especially when they could literally decide who lived and who died.

Yeah, the healers had a sweet deal going, and I had two spells that threatened it. That was how I knew what I did about how the lodges operated: I had a vested interest. Well, I was probably overstating the impact of my Anesthetic spell—it was useful, not lifesaving—but Healing Water had already saved multiple lives by neutralizing poisons and closing mortal wounds.

Voorhei was lucky enough to have a handful of people—me, Mumu, Haol, Ben, Sheedi, and a couple of farmers—who could use mana magic, and they’d all learned the spell when it had become available. That was a season ago, and in the time since, Healing Water had become a staple of the village’s daily life. We just had to keep quiet about it to not stir up trouble for the Hunter’s Lodge in Albei, who was negotiating for the spell on our behalf.

I should've probably thought twice about using Healing Water on the ranch hands, but it was an emergency. Plus village life tended to be insular. Even Andrassotei, as mean as he was, had no indications in his spirit of outing me to the healers.

The hunters’ hope was that Healing Water would eventually become like Nature’s Spring: available for everyone to use. And if that wasn’t possible, then keeping it within the lodge so that we’d be able to cast it on anyone needing help, not just family.

It didn’t take a genius to predict the potential impact on the Healer Lodge’s bottom line, and if I facilitated the spread of the spell before it was officially approved, that would sour the already-bitter negotiations.

Potentially, Heicata could independently learn the spell from Ikfael, but as the keeper of her shrine, I’d automatically be implicated, assuming she was caught using the spell. Voorhei had managed to keep it secret so far, but for how long? How long would Voorsowen?

It was just all so complicated. Anything related to the power struggles between lodges seemed to be.

“I know this is a difficult request,” Heicata said. She knelt, her eyes never leaving mine. “I know, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.” She then snorted in bitter amusement. “It’s not like I’d be the first to leave my village to set up a mender’s hut. At least I’ll have the skills to protect myself.”

“Mender’s hut?”

“Lucky Voorhei, of course you wouldn’t know—you have no need of one. A mender’s hut is a place of exile for those who’ve accepted the Healer’s Lodge’s punishments but refuse to stop. To avoid the lodge’s ongoing wrath, the hut must be built in the wilderness, far enough away to be outside their influence but close enough for villagers to visit when they need help.”

“And you’d give up your position among the hunters?” I asked, surprised.

“It would save so many—the hunters, yes, but also think of all the mothers and their newly-born children, the young people who fall when breaking in horses, and the militia who fight during the Long Dark. My responsibility is to protect and nourish the people of this village. I would do that much more effectively with your spell.”

I felt moved by Heicata’s plea. Ugh, I’m such a sucker for self-sacrifice. Still, Inleio and the others had cautioned me to tread lightly when dealing with the Healer’s Lodge, and Heicata had more or less stated that she’d eventually be caught using the spell inappropriately.

“Let me think about it,” I said.

Her spirit tinted gray in disappointment, but a kernel of not-giving-up burned at the core of her. “I understand. I was told you were wise, and patience is a steppingstone along wisdom’s path. Yet don’t delay too long. When the healers convince the land knight that the Healing Water spell should belong to their lodge, it will become a crime for people to share the spell, or even for those who wish to learn the spell to seek it out, since it implies a desire to appropriate the Healer’s Lodge’s responsibilities.”

I frowned. “You make it sound like they’ll get their way no matter what.”

Heicata reached over and gently turned me so that I faced the room. Teila was casting Nature’s Spring on another horse. Miri must’ve been out of qi, because she was supporting her daughter’s efforts with first aid. The jackass Andrassotei angrily looked on—he must’ve been out of gas too.

Beyond them, the courtyard was full of people tending to the other wounded animals. I should get out there. We’ve talked long enough.

“You have good eyes. I can see your desire to help in them, and there are healers who are the same, but not all. Many among them would use the kind of suffering in front of you to get what they want. And who can refuse when it’s their loved ones at stake?” Heicata sighed. “Your spell threatens the Healer’s Lodge. What would they do when it is their livelihood at stake? They will get their way eventually. I’m sure of it.”

I felt my frown deepen, but didn't say anything in response. Given what I knew about the lodges, she was probably right. Besides, we’d both already said what we’d needed to say. Our positions were clear.

“Go,” Heicata said, “You are needed, and I will not keep you longer.”

I nodded to acknowledge her words, my mind moving to the task ahead. I counted eleven animals in the courtyard still living. There were also the two inside, but Belteir was currently stable thanks to Andrassotei, and Teila was taking care of the other.

Of the ones outside, the spirit of a blood-covered llama looked the dimmest. I started moving toward him. I’ll get to Belteir eventually.

Behind me, Heicata muttered, “Lucky, lucky Voorhei...”

When night fell, the villagers brought torches and candle stones to light the courtyard. They replaced bandages and gave those of us casting the healing spells clean, cool water to drink. My vision narrowed so that I only saw whatever horse or llama was in front of me. Eventually, even that went away, as I was forced to close my eyes to hold onto my focus.

At some point, I was spoon-fed a stew that tasted of chicken and pumpkin. The person who fed me smelled like Ahlrein, but I didn’t open my eyes to look—all my attention was on moving my qi through the patterns required for Nature’s Spring, while in the background, Yuki sped up my recovery rate so that I could use Healing Water again and again.

The hours stretched out, and by the time we were done, we’d only lost one horse—a mare. She’d died despite our spells.

All that was done now, though. The rest of the animals were on their feet, cleansed of Borba’s qi too. As for me, I sat leaning against the courtyard wall, Teila asleep and propped up beside me. We were both wiped. How could we not be, given the intensity of events over the past twenty-four hours?

Was it really only yesterday when we’d hunted the giant owl? This afternoon when we’d fought the cutter hawks? The time felt so much longer, like it’d been weeks. All I can think about is how tired I am.

I felt beat up and sore from two life-and-death fights, and my meridians ached from the stresses I’d put them under. They were tender and inflamed, like a sunburn but on the inside.

My magical energies were mostly spent, but I had enough to run a tiny bit of air-aspected mana through my meridians to cool them. I almost groaned aloud at the relief flowing through me.

“It was her heart.”

Startled, I opened my eyes and saw Andrassotei standing close by.

“About the mare,” he said, “I thought you’d want to know. Her heart gave out.”

“Ah, yes, I’d wondered what had happened.”

“She was a sweet girl. Too good for this world.” Andrassotei stood there, looking awkward. He seemed to want to say something else, but then he turned and left instead.

I shook my head, which was a mistake because it woke up Teila. She rubbed her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing. Just someone coming by to thank us.”

“Mmm. That’s nice.” Teila sat up to look around, then watched as the people of the Rancher’s Lodge cared for the animals. A handful of their apprentices mopped up the blood and swept the courtyard clean. “I think I prefer being a hunter.”

“It’s more dangerous than being a rancher or farmer.”

“I wouldn’t like the waiting,” she said.

“The waiting?”

“For something to happen. Like a beast to come out of the forest or a disease to sweep through the herd—things like that. As a hunter, I’m the one who moves, who acts.”

“But we wait a lot,” I said. “Just think of how long we sat in the meadow for the giant owl.”

“We did, that’s true,” Teila said. “But it’s different—as hunters, we control our fate. We decide when and where to fight.”

“Unless we’re ambushed,” I said.

Teila quirked her head, thinking. “Even then, we’re the ones who’ve decided to go into the forest in the first place. We’re not stuck to a piece of land—”

“—wondering when we might be attacked or when our herd will get sick,” I said, finishing the thought.

Teila smiled. “Yes, that’s it.”

"For me," I said, “it feels good to provide for my family, to know I’ve protected them from the dangers hiding in the woods. It’s exciting too, and there’s satisfaction in a good hunt, in seeing the planning and skills involved go well.”

Teila’s giggle surprised me. “You’re so funny, Eight. Everyone knows how much you love to hunt.”

“Well, it’s not like I try to hide it.”

“I wasn’t there to see it, but Inleio told me about the day when you first showed up at the Hunter’s Lodge. He said”—Teila straightened her spine and deepened her voice in an impression of the former lodge master—“there was never a boy so determined to win at everything.” She outright laughed then, and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”

At that moment, it occurred to me that I didn’t know if the other apprentices had gone through the same testing I had. “What about you? What was your experience like?”

She waved her hand as if dismissing the question. “My parents are hunters; they made sure I was prepared. And with my talent, there was no way the lodge would turn me away.”

“They would’ve been fools to do so,” I said.

When Teila and I had first met, I’d checked her with my Status camera and saw that she was Wood-Wise. I hadn’t thought too much of it at the time, noting only that Inleio also possessed the same talent.

It wasn’t until much, much later—when I’d gotten frustrated with the way my camera named talents—that I’d started asking people directly about them, trying to match up their descriptions to what my camera showed me. That was when I’d learned what being Wood-Wise truly meant and why Teila had been made an apprentice early. It was to keep her from being snatched by the land soldiers.

Normally, a person’s qi recovered through their body’s and spirit’s natural processes. There were things that improved the recovery rate, like meditation, and the land and environment also contributed, but it wasn’t by a lot, unless it was something like a thunderstorm.

In general, though, it was safe to say that qi recovery depended almost exclusively on a person’s attributes and facility with qi. Unless you happened to be Wood-Wise, in which case you were able to tap into the qi of natural places, improving the recovery rate.

More importantly, as Wood-Wise, you had the ability to connect certain spells into the ambient qi so that once you paid the spell’s initial cost, the land maintained them. In other words, in the right setting, Teila could maintain an infinite Camouflage, assuming she didn’t waste qi by moving around too much. Or an infinite Nature’s Spring.

Alas, the talent didn’t work well with Spiral Pierce—the spell consumed qi too quickly to benefit—but it still helped with recovering the expended qi more quickly afterward.

The kicker on all this was that the talent continued to work even during the Long Dark, when the qi recovery rate was halved, which was why the land soldiers had wanted her, and why Miri and Ahlrein had made sure she was initiated into the lodge early. There, she could be protected by Inleio, Mumu, Haol, and Tegen—the four best hunters in Voorhei.

Given her dedication and abilities, I wouldn’t be surprised if Teila became lodge master after Mumu. At the very least, she’d likely lead her own team one day.

She poked me in the arm. “Do you know if there’ll be more food? I’m hungry.”

The day she became lodge master was a long way off though; she was still only nine years old—dedicated and talented for her age, but still a child.

“I’m sure we can dig up something—” Oh, no. I forgot about Ikfael.

In the rush of the evening’s events, making dinner for the otter had slipped my mind. I scrambled to stand, and apologized to Teila. “I have to go.”

She looked concerned. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m just late is all. Don’t worry, I’ll be back later. And I’ll try to bring leftovers.”

Confusion on her face, Teila watched me run out of the courtyard. I needed a private place to make dinner, and quickly.

Finding that out-of-the-way place turned out to be as easy as asking Heicata, since the Hunter’s Lodge in Voorsowen had a ritual room underneath its main room just like in Voorhei, although smaller and more cramped, with boxes stacked in the corners. Still, I didn’t complain. The space was clean and looked like it was dusted regularly. There was even a magical firestarter and collection of tinder and firewood ready to go.

Best of all, Heicata hadn’t needed a ton of explanation to let me use it, as she knew about my job as shrine keeper. All I had to say was that I needed to perform a daily ritual to appease the spirit, and that was enough. Frankly, after the difficulties of the last couple of days, having at least one thing come easily was a relief.

I got the fire going, and then brought out Ikfael’s sculpture.

“It’s all right. You can come out now, we’re alone.”

Ikfael’s spirit spilled out of the sculpture, materializing as she fell forward and landed on the floor with a thump.

I quickly put down the sculpture and knelt at her side. When I went to help her up, though, she waved me off, just flipping over onto her back instead.

“Are you all right?”

She looked at me like I was an idiot, but before she could sign a response, her back twitched and made an alarmingly loud crack. Her face scrunched up, and the twitch rolled through the rest of her, cracking all along the length of her spine.

Afterward, she sighed in relief, lying there a moment before she dredged up the willpower to prop herself up and face me to sign, “I’m going home.” She looked serious too, her eyes a touch wide and manic.

“Let me at least get some food into you first,” I said.

That was all it took for Ikfael to start pulling ingredients from her pocket. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said that she brought everything with her, either. There was the backstrap from a deer I’d shot a week ago, a squash in the shape of a bell from Bihei’s garden, a handful of greens... the pile grew larger and larger as I watched. Gods, she’d even brought a cutting board and our pots and pans.

“Um, that’s a lot.”

“It’s not all for tonight. I’ll save most for when I’m back at the Glen and you’re still out here.” Ikfael looked around. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Voorsowen. In the ritual room under their Hunter’s Lodge.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “The village with the horses?”

“That’s right. Borba came through here and killed a bunch of their animals. We’ve been healing the survivors, and now it’s too late to follow his trail, so we’re staying the night, and—” I shook my head, and stopped talking to collect my thoughts. “I’m making a mess of telling the story. Here, let me start at the beginning.”

And so I told Ikfael about the day, starting from our discovery of Borba feeding on the trees, moving on to the teams splitting up, detouring into the encounter with the cutter hawks, and ending in the conversation with Heicata about the Healing Water spell.

She sat in thought for a long time afterward, which was fine with me, since I had a ton of ingredients to prepare. It'd be a crime to do anything but grill the backstrap, but maybe I can make a couple of stews with the rest? That would cut down on the work I'd need to do, and I really was so very tired.

I was still staring at the pile of food, thinking about a menu, when Ikfael placed a paw on my arm. She looked conflicted, her signs reluctant. “Don’t make it all. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s no trouble; I can cook several dinners in one go.”

The look in her eyes firmed, and she nodded. “I am. I won’t let a hunk of rock defeat me.”

“It was that bad in there?”

She shuddered, but the determination in her eyes held. “It feels like being buried.”

My heart sank knowing Ikfael was putting herself through this experience on my behalf. Yet it filled me with affection for the very same reason. “Is... is there anything we can do to make it better?”

She shrugged. “Stone is stone; it doesn’t flow like water does. That is its nature.”

“Well, lava—” I started, but Ikfael looked at me like I was being ridiculous, so I stopped.

About that time, the fire looked ready, so I started to prepare the backstrap. My plan was to grill it with just a little salt and a handful of herbs—easy enough. And the tomato preservers would accompany the grilled venison nicely. The room got quiet as I worked, the only sound that of my knife on the cutting board as I chopped the herbs. It occurred to me, then, that maybe we were missing something obvious.

“What if the statue was outside my backpack?”

Ikfael shook her head. “No matter where it is, the feeling is the same.”

“But then you’d at least be able to see the outside world, right?”

Ikfael tentatively nodded her head.

I put the backstrap by the fire to start grilling and wiped my hands clean before walking over to where I’d set my backpack down. I examined the arrangement of pockets and straps, looking for the best way to secure Ikfael’s statue. “That way you’d know—the evidence right in front of your eyes—that you’re not buried.”

“I’m not sure it would help, but we could try.” Ikfael looked uncomfortable. “I am displeased with myself for sleeping through the hunt for the cutter hawks.”

“It was tough, and scary there at the end, but we did okay,” I said. “You don’t have to beat yourself up about it.”

“I wish to make my own choices,” Ikfael said. “Not let some rock make them for me.”

Right, I understood that. Speaking of which, sandstone was easy to damage. I don’t like the idea of the statue being fully exposed, but maybe her head can poke out one of the pockets. As long as she can see...

“I think we can make it work,” I said.

“Then we will do that, but not now, and not tonight.” Ikfael lay down by the fire and stretched, holding the pose until her paws quivered. With a sigh, she let it go, and said, “Tomorrow. I’ll go back into the stone then.”

“Fair enough. The other hunters will be staying in the lodge above overnight, so I can pick you up just before we leave.”

Ikfael shook her head, like what I’d said was completely unacceptable. “You will sleep down here, so you can tend the fire and make me breakfast in the morning.”

“I will?”

“Yes. And in return, I will look favorably on sharing the Healing Water spell with this Heicata you talked about. She will need to make her own exchange with me, but if she does, then that keeps you out of trouble with the Healer’s Lodge.” Ikfael nodded to herself. “Yes, I like this idea, but she will need to come to the shrine to petition me.”

“I won’t be targeted because of my job as the keeper of the shrine?”

Ikfael hesitated, and looked away, her gestures small as she signed, “I don’t know.”

‘Her story,’ Yuki said, softly inserting themselves into my thoughts so as to not startle me.

That’s right. Ikiira wouldn’t have had a lot of experience with the world before she’d died. Or, more accurately, sacrificed herself.

Inleio had told me the story once of a master of the Hunter’s Lodge, a talented youngster, who had been chosen to entreat the spirits of the land to remove a curse upon Voorhei. A well-deserved one, mind you, since the lodge had been experimenting with and abusing darklight. Anyway, the story’s details were hazy, but a couple of things were clear: one, the youngster named Ikiira had made a deal with the spirits that involved exchanging her life, and two, the cursed water afflicting the village was forever clean afterward. Enough so, that Voorhei was famous for it.

That Ikiira had eventually become Ikfael was obvious to me, and I strongly suspected that the stonewater serpent sleeping under the Glen had been involved somehow, but the exact details for how it all happened were still a complete mystery.

Ever since then, though, Ikfael had lived out in the wilds. There was a very real possibility that she knew even less about lodge politics than I did.

Well, it didn’t matter. Heicata getting the Healing Water spell might cause issues with the negotiations, but it wasn’t illegal yet. And who knew, there might be other factors that neither Ikfael or I knew about.

“It’s okay,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll find out together. I’ll ask Heicata her opinion, and when we get back, we can talk to Kesa too. We can even send a message to Uncle Kila. Actually, that’s probably the best idea of all. He’ll likely know what to do.”

Ikfael took a breath and nodded. “Thank you.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. It’s your spell, after all, and I can’t tell you the number of people whose lives have been saved with it, including mine.”

After that, the rest of the evening passed uneventfully. I got permission from Ikfael to take some of the grilled meat up to Teila, but otherwise not much else happened. I talked a little with the other hunters, I connected with the portion of Yuki back in Voorhei to chat with my family, and then I settled down for a quiet night in the ritual room with Ikfael.

It was like a little bit of home, away from home.

10

Changing Directions

That night, I dreamt of the Deer God, his body titanic as he stood above the forest surrounding Voorhei. His legs rose like towers, and his antlers pierced the clouds, slashing through them whenever he shook his head.

I hovered in the air, watching as he bent to tear away the treetops below and grind them with his teeth just enough to swallow. Then, he went down once more, and the tree spirits didn’t complain at all. Just the opposite, they clamored for his attention, practically uprooting themselves to do it.

A cold wind blew, fluttering my hair, but I was somehow insulated, my senses dampened. The only thing I felt strongly was the beating of my own heart—a steady, warm thumping.

Time passed, and the Deer God ignored me. The sense of it was almost palpable, an intentional disregard aimed at me and… I turned to see a group of spirits of the land behind me.

Ikfael, I recognized right away. Her spirit peeked out of a Knight Otter water sculpture, and next to her was a large, white egret who was likely to be Leiluminwei. We’d never met before, but Ikfael had mentioned him; he was the one connected to Moonlight, the silver wolf she’d once healed. Opposite him, on Ikfael’s other side, was a moose covered in purplish-violet grass. Vines hung from her and wound their way around her body. With every breath she took, little white flowers bloomed and faded.

The moose tilted her head as if to say, “You should turn around.”

So I did, and caught the Deer Good looking at me—just for a single heartbeat—and in that ephemeral moment, the dampening of my senses disappeared. I felt the chill mist clinging to his fur, the exultant exhalations of the trees in their rapture, the birds fluttering between his teeth, and the pulse of the earth as it beat along with me, the god, and everything else.

I woke up with a start and immediately grabbed for anything solid. I’d felt like I’d begun to fall at the dream’s end, but when I opened my eyes, all I saw was Ikfael looking amused at me clutching my blanket. With a snort, she went back to preparing a pot of coffee.

The smell hit me, and I scrambled to sit up. “Can I help?”

Ikfael gestured, handing over responsibility for the coffee and the rest of breakfast to me. There were a handful of eggs already out, along with rashers of salt-cured venison. It wasn’t exactly bacon, but it would do.

From above, I heard the other hunters getting ready. It was a little after five in the morning according to the phone in my head, but the plan was to get an early start. We had to if we wanted to keep from falling even farther behind of Mumu’s group.

Borba couldn’t just keep going and going, could he? And surely Mumu wouldn’t be so foolish as to keep chasing him to the point of exhaustion… would she?

That I wasn’t certain about the answer to either question concerned me. Well, and there’d been the dream too. Assuming it was a dream.

Yuki? I asked.

Their qi swirled in thought. ‘It seemed like every other dream we’ve shared until the end.’

I licked my lips and turned to Ikfael. “Did anything happen last night?”

The otter quirked her head. “Nothing unusual.”

“I dreamt of the Deer God just before waking up.”

Her eyebrows rose. “And? What happened?”

“I’m not sure. He was just eating, and then he noticed me. You were there. Leiluminwei too, and a moose with grass for fur.”

Ikfael gazed at me before signing, “That would be Aetheleita. She is friendly, but protective. Be respectful if you should happen to meet her again.”

“So the dream wasn’t just a dream, then.”

“Obviously. You’ve done something to get this Deer God’s attention. That’s concerning.” Ikfael frowned in thought. “Or you will do something. Time doesn’t exactly work the same for gods as it does for us. There’s also the possibility that he was influencing an event nearby… or something else entirely.” Ikfael got up and patted me on the arm. “Whatever the reason, stop thinking about it. Leave the gods to themselves, and just do what you would normally do. Otherwise, you’ll go mad trying to figure things out.”

She’d given me that advice once before. At the time, she’d said: “The gods give their gifts with ten hands, but you only see one.”

Ikfael nodded when I repeated those words aloud. “That’s right. It’s an old saying, but true—the gods always have more than one purpose for everything they do.”

“And just to confirm, you didn’t visit my dream just now? That wasn’t really you or any of the other spirits of the land?”

She looked at me askance. “As far as I know, none of the spirits nearby can visit a person’s dreams, including me.”

“So I should leave it alone, even if it feels like the Deer God is spiritually taking over the area around Voorhei?”

“Whether he is or isn’t, what can we do about it?” Ikfael asked back.

“Nothing, I suppose.”

“Nothing,” she said with a finality to her gestures. “Now enough chatter, let’s eat. We each have a long day ahead and need to prepare for it.”

The morning was still dark, and the sun wouldn’t be up for another half hour, but that didn’t stop Voorsowen’s villagers from lining up at the gate. They stood in two rows to watch us leave, their faces stony.

The way they’d done it, they’d left three gaps in the lines to show where their injured would’ve stood—which was nonsense because the people who'd been hurt were now all healed up. There was nothing stopping them from attending, except that the villagers wanted to make a point, so whatever.

Stupid village politics.

Dura led us with his back ramrod straight, ignoring the spectators. Susu, on the other hand, glared at everyone, including her own people. Apparently, some of her team had wandered away in the middle of the night to go drinking. They now sheepishly trudged after her, looking miserable but thankfully not hungover.

The story I heard from Teila was that they’d been sensible enough to stop before getting drunk, but Susu had lit into them anyway—mostly for skimping on their sleep during a big hunt, but also because they made us look bad. While Voorsowen’s villagers had survived Borba’s visit, many of their animals hadn’t.

At the east gate, the village’s leaders waited for us.

Dura marched right up to them, and said, “We will take our leave now.”

Heicata was there too, and she nudged Apskala. The reeve nodded, and said, “As discussed, we will contact Voorhei to settle things between our two villages.”

“We have been friends before and will be again,” Dura said.

Apskala’s lips tightened, but she said, “Yes, let it be so.”

Heicata stepped forward. “Since this is a matter between our lodges, I will go to Voorhei to represent Voorsowen. I wish you a safe hunt, and hope to see you all on your return.”

Though she’d said “all,” she’d been looking directly at me and at the statue of Ikfael, whose head poked out of my backpack’s left-side pocket. There was a decent chance the shrine would see its first official supplicant soon.

The hunters spread out, once more placing Teila and me at the center of the lead formation. This time, they were farther apart than usual in order to scour the ground for signs of what had happened the day before, which turned out be easy—the evidence of it shot through the pastureland surrounding Voorsowen like an arrow, telling the story of a running battle.

Mumu’s group and Borba had clashed with spears, knives, and claws, leaving behind patterns of footwork, except every step dragged—the combatants marring the artistry of their techniques with exhaustion. To my spirit eyes, desperation clung to the prints, like willpower alone had pushed them onward.

There were older signs under the more recent ones—of animals moving from one pasture to another—and the direction of battle had followed them. Specifically, Borba had sprinted toward a small herd of horses, and the others had chased after him. None of their steps had been empowered, and only the faintest scent of qi lingered from each.

We followed the trail to a bloody patch of ground. The sun started to rise about then, its soft pink light lining the edges of the hoofprints. One of horses had gone down, the rest had scattered, and the scent of Borba’s qi seemed to grow stronger.

What had been a three-on-one fight had suddenly become one-on-three, with Mumu’s group on the defensive against a once-more-empowered Borba. Working together—thank the gods—they’d fended him off; I could almost feel Borba’s frustration soaked into the land along with the blood.

They’d fought to a draw, and then Borba had taken off again to chase down the remaining horses. With Dog’s Agility, he’d caught up to them and left behind more blood, fragments of skin, and viscera. Then, he’d leapt a low wall to go after a herd of panicked llamas.

What followed appeared to have been an unrestrained bloodbath, with Borba moving from pasture to pasture while Mumu and the others harassed him—not that it’d done much good. The animals fell one after another. People too, since we found evidence of the ranch hands hitting the ground.

Borba had only been only driven off by the appearance of a cavalry—the hunters and ranchers of Voorsowen. Dramatically outnumbered, Borba fought briefly, but then fled to the east.

Mumu had attempted to follow, but was delayed. I spotted the places where Haol and Tegen had sat to rest, but they’d just as quickly gotten up again to run after Borba. The rest of the prints in the area were of milling confusion and panicked rushing to treat the injured. They were taken back to the village.

We followed Borba’s trail east to the village’s boundary. There, he’d stopped long enough to let gravity stamp the impression of his feet into the earth—a minute or two. His prints shifted, as if he’d had the luxury of time enough to gloat or decide what to do or where to go. Afterward, his stride had lengthened as he turned confidently to the southeast.

The signs left by Mumu’s group were shallower and more tightly clustered. They also appeared to have paused at the village’s boundary—perhaps to consider and confer—but then they’d continued to follow Borba. They’d refused to give up, even though they were exhausted.

“What are you thinking, Mumu?” I muttered aloud. “This is foolishness. Plain foolishness.”

Our plan had worked to bleed Borba dry by cleansing the trees he’d marked. Earlier yesterday, our fugitive had almost run out of gas, but then he’d found Voorsowen and tanked up again. There was no way for Mumu, Haol, and Tegen to catch up to him now. And if they did... I worried for my friends—my stomach cramping at the thought of what might happen to them.

I even felt Yuki’s qi clench in concern. ‘We have to hurry,’ they said.

We do. The good thing is that there aren’t many trees here. Borba will have fewer targets for his Siphon, so we can pick up the pace.

‘He can chase after animals—'

And that’ll take time, I thought. At least more than it did when he was just clawing trees.

Susu came up beside me as I was talking to Yuki. She was scowling in the direction of Borba’s travel. I noticed, then, that all the other hunters had come close and were watching her.

“Susu,” Dura said, “you’ve been here before. What can you tell us of the path ahead?”

She spit to the side before answering. “Like I told you before, I did some work with that rancher, helping to butcher some of his older animals that weren’t needed anymore. The deal, though, was to move them first, the idea being that the meat and hides would transport themselves to where they’d be sold.” Her scowl deepened. “He also thought it’d be quicker to skip the road and head southeast directly. That’s how I know—if you keep on from here, you’ll arrive at Albei.”

I’d once asked Uncle Kila about Albei. At the time, he’d been in the process of negotiating with the Alchemist’s Lodge about selling them eilesheile, so I had wanted to know more about the city to help me understand the context.

A few things stood out:

1. The three most powerful political figures in the area lived there: the land knight, the hierophant, and the city head.

2. Slightly less powerful, but still political, were the various lodges and trading families. They ran much of the day-to-day life.

3. The city was a major trading hub for natural and animal resources. People brought their goods to Albei, where they were purchased by artisans and merchants, processed, and then shipped to bigger metropolises—the two ocean ports to the east and south.

4. The population fluctuated between 35,000 and 45,000 people. The exact number depended on the number of people visiting, either to trade their goods or to attend one of the biannual festivals.

That was a lot of people, and it wasn’t hard to imagine Borba hiding himself among them. Even worse, who would notice if one or two people went missing occasionally? Borba was a hunter—he knew how to pick out the sick, the injured, and the isolated. With his skills and stolen qi spells, he’d have no problems staying both hidden and fed.

When Borba had run from Voorhei, we’d thought he might try circling back to sneak into the village to kill more of the people he’d seen as responsible for his punishment. Either that, or he’d head to Voorhoos. His home village hadn’t been a happy place for him, and there were people there he’d want revenge against too. Instead, he’d set out for the wilderness, apparently at random, looking to get away as fast as possible.

We’d taught him, though, that there was no escape; we’d followed and starved him. Then, Voorsowen had come along to also teach him that he’d be better off Siphoning from animals—lots and lots of animals—and there was nowhere better for that than a city full of them.

We traveled quickly over a landscape that’d been cleared of trees. If it hadn’t been for all the stumps poking up from in between the dry, straw-colored grasses, it’d look like prairie land, with only the occasional rare oak standing dark and tall.

The hunters ran when they could—using a loose, loping gait that ate up the ground—and walked when they needed to—mostly when Teila and I required a break. We detoured whenever we spotted a tree that had survived the clearcut, but we found no evidence of Borba’s Siphon at work. His focus had clearly been on getting to Albei as quickly as possible, so that became our focus too.

Mumu must’ve had the same idea, because we found no signs of her group resting. Their prints doggedly followed Borba’s. It was an amazing feat, really—they’d now spent a full day tracking, fighting, and chasing—but they had to be running on fumes by now. I wished for the fools to just stop and rest. They need to let us catch up, so we could work at the problem together.

That was something I’d learned about overachievers in my previous life: they thought they could do everything on their own. And sometimes the truly talented folks could, but life didn’t always cooperate. The problems it posed—the hard, thorny ones—required people to act in concert.

Humans were social animals for a reason. Usually, the Hunter’s Lodge was good about harnessing that, but Mumu was moving outside the lodge’s standard operating procedures. She was trusting in her talents more than her teams, and for where Borba was heading, talents wouldn’t be enough. Or at least I didn’t think so.

We had another hour to travel, and my mind circled as I thought and considered and worried. Yuki’s thoughts circled along with mine, and the two of us brainstormed scenarios and responses as best we could. It was hard, though, without having been to Albei ourselves. At least we had a contact there—Uncle Kila—and a Hunter’s Lodge in the city we could tap for help.

Eventually, we caught sight of a highway off to our left and the grey-blue expanse of a river beyond it. Both ran north-south, paralleling each other, with Borba’s trail veering dramatically toward them once they were visible.

Shortly after, once we were on the road, we came across five carts pulled by oxen, along with about ten outriders on horses. One of them fell back, but she didn’t engage us at all—just gave us the once over before riding to catch up with her comrades. One of the riders was dawn, another dusk, but overall the group was unremarkable. Their oxen moved steadily but slowly, and we outpaced their caravan soon enough.

Finally, we saw the city walls in the distance. They looked squat from where we were, like a rocky outcropping marring the otherwise flat plain. The hazy smoke of civilization gave it away, though. I was finally going to visit my first city.

11

Forced Truths I

Albei’s walls were taller than they’d looked at a distance—at least fifty feet. The stones were mostly uniform in shape and size, but I couldn’t help noticing that they were also distressed—with off-color patches and other discolorations, including burn marks.

At the top, the parapet appeared prickly from a series of metal spikes poking out of the crenelations. And there were—of all things—a couple of cranes at work. One of them was currently in use moving an enormous badger from the ground outside the wall to the city’s interior. The people stationed at the top and bottom waved flags to coordinate their efforts, while the hunters who’d brought the beast watched nervously.

The gate was about fifteen feet wide and twenty feet high, so it could’ve probably handled the badger’s size. Yet there were also lines of people trying to get in and out; it was probably just easier to use the cranes to transport big deliveries.

No one else seemed to care about the giant badger being lifted, but Teila and I gawked as the ropes creaked, some of the spikes were temporarily removed, and people yelled instructions. The badger rose higher and higher until it was slowly swung over the top and out of view.

In the time it took for the badger to disappear, we’d only moved forward a couple of spots in line. Up ahead, a pair of scribes inspected people and their carts. It was slow going, with the scribes practically crawling over the materials. They seemed to be inventorying everything, documenting it all, and then issuing receipts for the taxes owed on the materials being brought into the city.

Beyond the scribes, on each side of the road, two large braziers released smoke into the air. It almost looked like they were fumigating anyone coming into or leaving the city—which, given the dangers posed by pest-borne diseases, wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

On the other side of the smoke, four land soldiers kept an eye on the proceedings. Two wore brigandine and carried polearms, while the other two were more lightly armored and stood next to a couple of war dogs. Like Musa and Jesei back home, the giant dogs seemed to be paired with their riders, and I saw they had several talents related to teamwork.

There was a fifth land soldier too, but he stood out by himself about thirty or forty yards to our left. Maybe he’s taking a piss?

The strange thing was that something had disturbed the gate guards. There’d been so much to see, I was late to notice, but now that I looked closely, I saw how they appeared to be scanning the area—more than you’d expect for a routine customs checkpoint.

The land soldier on his own was the only outlier—forlorn instead of alert and anxious. Even with him in armor, I could tell by the slump in his shoulders; his spirit was also slightly faded, as if he was depressed.

The combination of the soldiers’ attitudes was strange, and I was wondering about it when Dura came up to me. “Little Pot, I am sorry to ask this, but do you have any taak with you?”

Most of Voorhei’s villagers didn’t bother with carrying money around, since a lot of their trading was done through barter. There also wasn’t exactly a lot to buy either. The only people who regularly accepted coins were the miller, the smiths, and the lodges.

As for me, I never felt right without something on me. I grew up poor, so there was a sense of safety attached to having money in my wallet. In my old life that meant at least five hundred dollars cash, sometimes a thousand. My kids had thought I was nuts—and ripe for mugging—but that had only happened three times. Not too bad, right? Mugged three times in sixty-four years?

Well, I’d learned my lesson from those experiences—I only had a smattering of taak and eltaak in my coin purse. The antaak I carried was strapped to my back in a special leather holder that Bihei had made for me. It wasn’t going to be stolen anytime soon.

So, yeah, I had some money on me. “How much do we need?” I asked.

Dura shuffled his feet. “Entry’s half a taak per person, but there’s also a tariff on the cutter hawks and their light. I figure it’ll be just shy of two eltaak altogether.”

“We don’t have to pay for the hawks right away, do we?”

“No, no, the tax will be handled by the Hunter’s Lodge inside the city, but it’ll speed things with the scribes if we can show we already have the money. They like that.”

“Sure, okay, I understand.” I pulled out a pair of eltaak and handed them to Dura.

He nodded in thanks, and said, “We’ll be sure to pay you back at the lodge. We’re heading there once we’re inside.”

The poor man looked out of his depth, but then again, a manhunt through the streets of Albei wasn’t exactly in any of our wheelhouses. At least I had the advantage of Helen’s addiction to mystery stories. Before she’d died, we’d spent many a cozy night on the couch watching her films.

The line moved slowly forward, and when it was our turn, Dura took the lead in talking to the scribes. He had us all open our packs to show them the cutter hawks we’d killed. The process turned out to be quick, likely because we hardly had anything else with us except what was needed for hunting and camping.

One by one, the hunters moved past the braziers, the gray smoke swirling around them almost like it was alive. However, when Dura walked through, the smoke flashed silver. A scribe called to the land soldiers on the other side: “He’s clear. The light he’s carrying has been registered.”

Ah, it’s not fumigation. The smoke’s a detector for darklight and silverlight. There must be a smuggling problem. I didn’t sense qi or mana coming from the smoke, and I eagerly stepped forward to see if I’d notice anything from the inside.

The first thing that hit me was the smell—it was resiny with a hint of something floral underneath. That was followed by a slight itch across my face and neck. Suddenly, my whole body—every inch of me, all at once—felt like it’d been lightly slapped. It was the strangest sensation, without any kind of directionality.

Then, the smoke flashed red. The land soldiers shouted, “Mankiller,” and I went out like a light.

I woke up groggy, the world spinning. Even after I shut my spirit eyes, the feeling didn’t go away—like I was drunk at a cheap carnival, stuck on the ride that spun to hold people in place using centrifugal force. My stomach rebelled, and—Oh, oh, that’s not good—I threw up.

There wasn’t much in my belly, just some jerky eaten earlier while on the go, but I still managed to vomit all over the front of my shirt. Hey, where’s my chainmail? What?

I looked around and vaguely made out a couple of people sitting. One wore a grey blob, the other a black one. They appeared to be at a low table, a pot of something between them. I smelled goat and chili peppers, which I’d normally be into, but my stomach vehemently disagreed, and I threw up again.

Nothing felt steady—outside or in. A thin line of spittle hung from my chin, and I felt it swing as I fell over onto my side. Ah, I’d been sitting on the floor. When I tried to get back up, though, my arms and legs wouldn’t move. Won’t someone let me off this ride? I don’t like it.

“He’s awake,” a man said, the one in gray.

“Really, you didn’t think I’d notice?” asked a woman’s voice, the one in black.

The man in gray said, “I meant no insult, honorable one. I only wanted to suggest we get started. One of my people is missing, after all.”

“Not yet,” the woman in black replied. “A stable effect needs a stable spell, and this one isn’t yet. Be patient, it will be soon.”

Then a third voice said, ‘Hold on, we’ll give you another shot of adrenaline.’ This time I recognized it as belonging to Yuki.

All the voices flowed through me as if the boundary between me and the rest of the world had become permeable. It made it hard to focus on any of the words or their meanings, both individually and all together.

My hair was drenched with sweat, and my heart was racing. Then, suddenly, my thoughts cleared. That felt important, although maybe not as much as the need to scrunch my face and rub it against the floor to clear the stray hair from my eyes. Haircut. I need a haircut.

‘Hmm... let’s see if this helps,’ Yuki said.

My thoughts cleared a bit more, enough to become aware of myself.

‘Oh, thank the gods, finally. You wouldn’t believe how much adrenaline is flowing through your system right now,’ they said.

What? I asked. What’s going on?

‘You’ve been detained by the local authorities, and your system’s full of drugs and magic. I’ve eaten all the qi, and I’m doing my best to moderate the hormonal imbalances, but the mana’s out of reach.’

Oh. Huh. That sounds bad. And it did, truly, but at the time I found it hard to care. The hair in my eyes was much more concerning.

‘Focus, Ollie/Eight, please focus! You need to check your Status, so that we can know what we’re dealing with.’

Oh, right, okay. Let me look... Thankfully, the phone in my head was steady. All I had to do was look to see:

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Sedative (4), Truth-Telling (4, Forced)

As I watched, the Sedative condition dropped from (4) to (3), and it became easier to care; more specifically, I felt a rising alarm at the Forced part of Truth-Telling.

Unfortunately, it was about then that I noticed I couldn’t move my arms; they seemed to be tied behind my back. My legs were bound too, at the feet, and that got me distracted once again—started me wondering at how I'd been sitting in the first place.

‘They had you on your knees, but that’s not important—'

There was more after that, but Yuki’s words slipped away as the world suddenly started to sway uncomfortably, like the carnival ride was coming loose from its moorings. I felt myself slide across the room. Nothing else seemed to move, but there was definitely the feeling of motion. I quickly picked up speed, so I closed my eyes and curled up to protect against smashing into the wall, yet no impact came.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was in the exact same place as I’d been before, even though the sense of motion hadn't gone away. I felt like I should be ping ponging around the room, yet I wasn’t.

‘Gods damn it.’ Yuki’s qi spiked in irritation. ‘The mana’s spinning out of control. Hold on. We’re going to try something else.’

A moment later, my vision cleared, and my arms goosebumped when I finally saw the people in front of me.

The one in gray was nothing exceptional: a stocky, middle-aged man wearing mail, his hair cropped short. He looked like maybe he’d had his nose broken once or twice, and while his eyes were sharp, they didn’t cut.

The second person, though, had a crow’s head. Literally. She was human from the shoulders down, but everything above was covered in shiny black feathers. Her beak stretched almost a foot from her face, and I could tell it wasn’t a mask either—not with the way her eyes glinted as she looked at me.

She wasn’t a drug- or spell-induced hallucination either; I was pretty sure about that. Mostly because I’d seen her before. She was the one who’d summoned a snake to drive me away from Voorhei just after I’d first arrived in this world.

That thought was distracting enough that I was able to tune out everything else to look, and yes, she had two wooden hoops with her—one at her side, and the other on the table with a small, blue, iridescent bird standing within it.

The sense of movement diminished and slowly settled into a rocking motion, like I was being swung back and forth. The distractions diminished enough for me to check her with my Status camera.

Aslishtei the Wise (Human, Peltwei, Dawn)

Talents: Someday Magician, Hoop Dreams, If You Build It, Likes ’Em Shiny

Meanwhile, the songbird on the table quirked its head to examine me, so I checked it too.

Error

Not a valid talent vessel.

It’s not alive, then, but... a summon? “That’s so cool,” I said aloud. “I’d like to learn how to do that. Can you teach me?”

“What did he say?” the man in mail asked.

“I don’t know,” Aslishtei said, “but he’s awake and aware. I’d like to say that we can get started, but that strange language of his is going to be a problem. Where did you say this boy is from?”

“Voorhei,” the man said.

“The village to the west? I’d heard that some of their hunters arrived earlier today.”

“That’s right—a group of three, including the master of their Hunter’s Lodge.”

“Yes, that one,” Aslishtei said. “What was her name? Mulallamu? She’s been providing some important resources to the Alchemist’s lodge recently.”

“It’s unlikely she’s involved. Her group passed through the north gate without any problems.”

Aslishtei waved her hand as if to wipe away the idea. “Yes, yes. I was merely thinking that it was unusual for so many hunters from the same village to appear on the same day.”

The man cleared his throat. “There’ve been issues between the hunters and healers. Perhaps something related to that?”

As I’d listened to the two speak, their words had filled my head, not making any room for my own thoughts. Now, though, they lapsed into a momentary silence, and I had space to think again.

It was a struggle get my mind in order—it felt like trying to maneuver a giant spinning top—but I assembled what I knew:

- Mumu had arrived safely.

- They’d not said anything about Borba.

- There was a land soldier missing.

What else? What am I not picking up?

‘They know you’ve killed someone,’ Yuki said. ‘That’s why you’re here.’

Right, right. And the missing land soldier reports to—I took a quick look with my Status camera at the man in armor:

Sondo the Captain of the Gates (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Let’s Get Physical, Body Talk, Handles You Right

My first thought was: It looks to me like someone’s got a thing for Olivia Newton John. Which, in all honestly, was totally understandable. Grease came out in 1978, but in my eyes she didn’t really take off until the early 1980s. I’d been in my twenties then. But wait, no, I’m getting distracted again. I need to make it clear that I wasn’t involved in anyone going missing.

‘Without spilling any of our secrets,’ Yuki added. ‘So far it’s been okay, because you’ve been speaking in English, but don’t say anything else until I tell you to. Okay? Please?’

I nodded to show that I understood, and that caused some sweat to run down my forehead. I licked my lips and tasted salt on them. It occurred to me, then, that my throat was parched.

“Water,” I said in Diaksh. “Can I get some water?” I hadn’t intended to talk, but it had just happened on its own.

I felt Yuki’s qi sink, and my stomach followed. In the past, we’d survived the Hunter Lodge’s truth-telling tea through careful omission of certain truths. That strategy no longer looked viable. Whatever was going on—I had little to no control over what came out of my mouth.

“Ah, good. The magic and smoke have integrated after all. You may now continue, Captain.”

Sondo stood and brought me the tin cup he’d been using. He got me sitting upright again, and then held the cup for me to drink. It was a heavily-watered-down plum wine that he offered me—the taste bitter and acidic.

“That’s terrible,” I said. “The winemaker should be shot.”

"On that we agree,” Sondo said, but there was no amusement in it. He was all business, checking me over and peering into my eyes. “Now, child, I want you to focus on me and my voice.”

‘Ignore those instructions,’ Yuki said. ‘Instead, focus on me and my voice. We have to get around the forced truth-telling as much as possible.’

I also hoped to speak as little as possible, so I nodded to show that I’d understood.

Sondo said, “Be sure to answer my questions truthfully, for we’ll know when you lie, and the consequences will be harsh. Do you understand?”

I burped, the taste just as terrible as the wine, but then managed to say, “Yes.”

‘Please, please, wait for me before you respond next time,’ Yuki said.

“Okay, I can do that,” I said aloud.

“That’s well.” Sondo cleared his throat, his voice becoming more formal as he asked, “Where were you this morning, just before dawn?”

‘Just repeat after me,’ Yuki said. ‘I was northwest of Albei with the other hunters from Voorhei. We only arrived at the city this afternoon.’

I understood what Yuki was trying to do, but my attention strayed partway—my hair was back in my eyes and driving me nuts.

“I, ah, I was northwest of Albei with the other hunters from Voorhei, but I’m sorry—can you wipe my forehead? My hair’s bothering me, and we only arrived at the city this afternoon.”

Sondo glanced back toward Aslishtei, but the peltwei merely looked on with interest. She gestured to continue.

“Focus on my voice, and just answer—”

“My hair, please. It’s really distracting, and I can’t think.”

Sondo sighed, then brushed my eyes clear. The relief was so sweet. I mean, I still felt like crap—the world all higgledy-piggledy—but at least the distraction was gone for the time being, so I could focus on Yuki again.

That’s when I noticed... “Wow, you literally have steely gray eyes. I thought that was just a romance-novel thing.”

Sondo stared deeply into my eyes, which was totally in keeping with the romance-genre-vibe thing he had going, but then I remembered I was only eight years old, so that made the moment weird.

“Besides,” I said, “I’m already taken.”

That must’ve surprised Sondo, because he asked, “You’re engaged?”

“No, but people keep trying. It’s annoying. My heart belongs to—”

‘English, use English!’

Huh? Oh, sure, I can do that. “Anyway, as I was saying, my heart belongs to Helen. There were lots of people in my past life who tried to set me up on dates after she died, but nothing clicked, you know? Lots of good intentions and all that, but I couldn’t let go.” I laughed, and it sounded mocking even to my own ears. “I make a big deal of playing the wise old man, but deep down I still miss her. She was my better half.”

Sondo frowned. “What did you just say? Use Diaksh.”

‘You were talking about love, about how hard it is to find. Be sure to use Diaksh.’

“Right,” I said. “Love’s hard to find, although I don’t imagine people here much care about it. Everything’s about talents—reinforcing and propagating them through the family tree. Although, that’s probably an unfair generalization. Bihei loved her family, and Mumu’s clearly smitten with both Haol and Dena. Huh, maybe there is room for love in this world.”

“I don’t think this is working,” Sondo said.

Aslishtei quirked her head at him. “You are very good at stating the obvious, Captain.”

She stood and walked toward where I sat on the floor. I watched her approach, fascinated by the way the light shone on her inky-black feathers.

She stood over me, and asked, “Were you in any way involved the disappearance of a land soldier earlier this morning?”

“No, I was on the road then. Well, that’s just an idiom—in the morning we were still cutting across the land, but we did reach the road eventually, in the afternoon.”

Aslishtei asked, “Do you know or have any enmity for a land soldier named Calfet of Huwata?”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Do you know anyone who does? Or wished him ill?”

“No, but if he’s gone missing, Borba probably did it.”

‘Stop!’ Yuki yelled. ‘Be careful.’

Sondo leaned forward, and asked, “Who is Borba, and what is your relationship to him.”

I sighed—I couldn’t help it. “Borba is a long and complicated story. He is a mistake of our lodge, and a tragedy for all of us who live in Voorhei.”

“Yes, and?” Sondo asked.

A voice came from behind me, which I immediately recognized as Mumu’s. “It’s a story that is my responsibility to tell.” I tried to turn around to look at her, but only managed to fall over on my side again.

“Who are you?” Aslishtei asked. “And what right do you have to interfere in our investigation?”

“I claim the right as this boy’s lodge master,” Mumu said. Her voice was tired, but there was steel under it. She was angry too, I could tell. “I should’ve been called as soon as you learned he belonged to my lodge. You knew I was in the city.”

Aslishtei waved away the complaint and went to sit at the table. Meanwhile, Mumu came closer to help me up again. Her hair was stringy and matted with dried sweat, and her armor looked like it’d been dipped in a vat of mud. There were bags under her eyes too.

“You look terrible,” I said.

“It’s been a long, long day,” she replied.

“True, but ugh, I have so much to say to you; the words are all stuck together.” Those words clamored to be said, and I had to fight to force them into order. “Get your head on straight, Mumu. There are people who love and care about you, damn it, and you can’t leave them behind. That’s not what a leader does. That’s not what a friend does. You’re hurt by Inleio’s death, I get it, but don’t spread that hurt around. Not like you’ve been doing.”

Bewildered by my outburst, Sondo couldn’t help asking Mumu, “This is your apprentice?”

She stared at me for a long time, but eventually something in her must’ve relented, because Mumu reached out and patted my head. “He is, and my uncanny friend too.” She turned to Sondo and Aslishtei, and said, “Now, let me see if I can explain some things.”

12

Forced Truths II

Mumu patted my back as I retched. Bound as I was, though, it was of little comfort, since my body was unable to support itself while heaving. At least the stone floor was cool; I rested my cheek against it during the moments I wasn’t trying to hack up my intestines.

In the background, Mumu finished explaining to the authorities the reason for our visit to Albei, and their response was understandably chilly.

“So you chased this Borba down, but didn’t warn the guards at the gate that a murderer was in the area?” That was Aslishtei, with only the top of her feathered head visible from my current position.

“There was no reason to think he’d entered the city,” Mumu said. “Our plan was to detour just long enough to report to the lodge’s grandmaster before leaving to pick up Borba’s trail once again. But the report took longer than expected, and we ran into our brothers and sisters from Voorhei waiting outside.”

“Don’t forget that the boy triggered the gate’s alarm,” Sondo said.

“Ah, yes, the boy,” Aslishtei said. “Is Voorhei planting killers instead of corn these days? That’s not something the land knight will likely approve.”

“Borba’s the only murderer,” Mumu said. “Our Eight has nothing to do with your land soldier going missing. Stop looking for signs that aren’t there. Just ask him who he killed and be done with it.”

I felt big hands grab me by the shoulders. They lifted me up until Sondo’s face was right in front of me.

“That’s not a good place for you,” I said. “I may vomit again at any time.” I couldn’t help the words spilling from my mouth, but I’d managed to say them in English, so the warning went unheard.

“That’s another thing,” Sondo asked. “What language is this?”

Mumu shook her head. “Ask about the land soldier. Anything else is unrelated.”

Sondo frowned, but Aslishtei must’ve gestured for him continue, because he asked, “All right, boy, in Diaksh this time, who have you killed?”

I answered as I was told to: “By my own hand, just Kaad Keelsson. He was a bandit and slaver who had captured the children that would later be adopted into my family.”

Yuki’s qi slid through me, their thoughts sparkling to catch my attention. ‘Our children are so cute.’

“That’s true,” I said. “Our children are so cute, and talented skinners too. After I rescued them from the slavers, they helped me dress a chliapp lion—” I paused as my stomach felt like it was tilting to the side, but nothing came up. Sondo’s face remained unfortunately clean of vomit.

“There was more than one slaver?” he asked.

“Yes, two. The other was Boscun the Wall, but I didn’t kill him, not directly. His death was an accident. I’d put sleeping powder in the slavers’ food, but it ended up causing a fight between them instead. Kaad killed Boscun as a result.”

“And you killed this Kaad once he’d been weakened?”

“Yes, but only sort of. Kaad spotted me while I was hiding, and I had to fight him off.”

“Is there anyone else whose death you were involved in?” Sondo asked.

Yuki’s qi sped up—I felt them cast Dog’s Agility on themselves—and their thoughts flew past almost too fast for me to catch. ‘There was Ghitha, but it was us who killed him, not Ollie/Eight. But Ollie/Eight did put to rest Woldec and the rest of Ghitha’s family. That was a good thing. Woldec. Woldec. Woldec.’

“There was this group... a family of four who’d turned into zombies. I came across them when I’d gotten lost after fleeing from a troop of bishkawi. At the time, I was sure my heart would pop from the running, the being scared, and the zombies—they surprised the hell out of me. They had some good stuff on them, though. The candle stones came in handy, and Woldec’s knife is my favorite.”

“Anyone from Albei?” Sondo asked.

“Just Otwei—”

Yuki shrieked, ‘But it was the bear that killed her.’

“Aye, but it was the bear that did it,” I said. “He bit her head clean off. It was disgusting. I didn’t like her, but no one deserves that. Gods, but she was a pain though. Her ghost fought me for ten minutes before I was able to send her on to her next life.”

“Ghost?” both Sondo and Aslishtei said at once, their voices overlapping.

Mumu cleared her throat. “I can explain that. Our Eight has a talent for seeing and removing ghosts.”

“Just how, exactly,” Aslishtei asked, “does one acquire such a talent?”

Mumu patted me particularly hard on the back, distracting me from the question. “With all due respect,” she said, “that’s not something he needs to answer.”

Aslishtei then walked into view, her shiny eyes peering at Mumu. “Why do I feel as if our Voorhei is hiding secrets?”

“We are a simple village,” Mumu said.

“Nothing and no one is simple,” Sondo said.

“Maybe, but it should be clear by now that our Eight had nothing to do with your soldier going missing.”

“Actually,” I said, my gods-be-damned mouth running off without me, “I think I’ve figured something out.”

Mumu’s pat turned into a full-fledge smack, and Yuki’s qi spun to get my attention. Yet when Aslishtei turned toward me and asked, “Oh, and what’s that?” I had to answer—I just had to.

“The people of Diaksha like their fives, don’t they? The hunter teams are made up of five people, and from what I saw at the gate, the same is true for the land soldier teams, except there’d been one separated from the others.”

“There are only four guards at the gate at this time,” Sondo said. “Otherwise you’d be right. We do have two teams searching the area around the city, but there shouldn’t be anyone on their own.”

“Ah, that confirms it, then. The one on his own is probably the ghost of your missing land soldier—this Calfet of Huwata you mentioned. I must not have been able to tell he was a ghost at the time because of the distance. Or maybe because he was freshly dead or particularly attached to life.” I sighed. “My guess is that Borba probably killed him.”

“Was your Calfet able to use magic?” Mumu asked. She went from patting my back to clutching my shirt.

“Not at all,” Sondo said.

Mumu released my shirt. “That’s a relief. We must keep Borba from collecting more spells.”

It looked like Sondo was going to say something in response, but Aslishtei put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and then asked, “Eight, can a ghost lead you to their body?”

‘Simple gestures,’ Yuki said. ‘That’s how we communicated with Bindeise the Sugar Maker, remember?’

“That’s right. Tenna’s Gift blocks anything complicated, but pantomime, as long it’s not too complicated, will work. And if it doesn’t, then there’s always—”

Yuki’s qi flashed in panic. ‘Quick, what’s the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything?’

“Forty-two,” I said.

Aslishtei quirked her head, “There’s always forty-two?”

‘Numbers are eternal, after all.’

“I don’t know if that’s right, actually,” I replied. “Do numbers exist if there’s no one to know them, without people to conceptualize them? When does a collection of sticks become five sticks? Obviously, there are mathematical constants inherent in the universe, but oh... wait... there are gods, aren’t there? They must know math, so the answer to the question is obvious: yes, there’s always forty-two.”

“What,” Sondo said, but it didn’t sound like a question.

I was wondering if I needed to respond when Mumu interjected: “Our Eight is exceptionally bright, but easily distracted. At this point, we’ve clarified that he’s had nothing to do with the missing—”

“Murdered,” I added helpfully.

Mumu’s lips thinned. “Yes, thank you. Eight had nothing to do with the land soldier’s death.”

“But he can lead us to the body,” Sondo said.

“Oh, sure,” I replied.

Mumu’s lips compressed even more. “Yes, that is a service the Hunter’s Lodge of Voorhei will be glad to perform. However, I insist that it be done after our Eight is free from the influence of your spells and drugs.”

“You insist, do you?” Sondo glared at her. “After letting a monster loose in the countryside?”

“I do, and I’ll register a complaint with my lodge’s grandmaster if I have to.”

Sondo’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard how Voorhei’s lost two of its element-touched. You’re going to need land soldiers come the Long Dark. Do you really want to antagonize us?”

“I’d prefer not to,” Mumu said, “but just as you’re concerned for your people, I am for mine.”

Sondo practically growled in response, but Aslishtei once more placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough. We’re all friends here, and should treat each other that way.” She glanced between Mumu and Sondo. “We’ve heard this Eight’s story of how he came to be a mankiller. He was not involved in the death of Calfet of Huwata. We would, however, appreciate his help in finding the body”—she raised a hand to forestall Mumu’s complaint—“after he has recovered his wits.”

Sondo bowed his head, if reluctantly. “Yes, honored one.”

“Thank you, honored,” Mumu said.

“Was this supposed to be good cop, bad cop?” I asked. “Because I don’t think you were doing it right until you got to the end there.”

All three looked at me in confusion, but I just shrugged in response. “What? It’s true.”

Yuki asked me to check my Status, so I did.

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Sedative (1), Truth-Telling (2, Forced)

I had with me a wooden bucket in case I needed to vomit, but while my stomach was still queasy, I didn’t feel like I’d need it. More importantly, my mind was finally clearing for real, and I could think again.

Mumu and I sat on a couple of plain cushions in a small, unadorned room. There wasn’t any furniture, not even the low tables that seemed to be ubiquitous everywhere I went. The walls were stone, and an open window let in the cool autumn air, as well as the sounds of people moving about outside.

Sondo had dropped us off here to wait out the Truth-Telling condition.

“Where are we, anyway?” I asked against my will. Okay, so my mouth’s not under control yet, even though I’m feeling better.

‘That was so nerve wracking,’ Yuki said. ‘We never want to go through an experience like it again.’

“That makes two of us.”

Mumu had been lost in thought, frowning at the door. At my words, she turned toward me. “Talking to Yuki?”

I tried to just nod in response, but was forced to say, “Yes.”

“You did well to hide them.”

I snorted. “The credit’s not mine to take. That was you and Yuki all the way. I have the both of you to thank.”

Mumu shook her head. “I’d heard that land soldiers had a way to compel the truth, but it’s nothing like we have back home, is it?”

“Yes, it’s a completely different experience, and I don’t mean just the sensory distortions and nausea. The lodge’s truth-telling tea is much easier to get around.”

Mumu nodded. “Through lies of omission, you mean.”

“Yes, that’s right. For example—”

‘Stop!’ Yuki yelled.

At the same time, Mumu held up a hand to forestall me. “No, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t?” I asked. “I mean, this is the perfect opportunity to put any fears to rest. Kesa would jump at this chance, wouldn’t she? She’ll be upset if you let the opportunity pass.”

“Do you believe that Kesa doesn’t trust you?” Mumu quickly covered her mouth, then said, “No, wait, you don’t have to answer that either.”

I shrugged. “It’s obvious she pays attention to what I do, asking questions here and there. As the fidelity of my spirit eyes has increased, I’ve come to feel how her curiosity pokes at me, trying to pry loose details about my history and my relationship with Yuki.”

“Kesa is—” Mumu stopped, then began again. “She is who she is, and she bears the lodge’s burdens alongside me, the half that I am too young for.” Ah, there was such bitterness in her voice. Her head dropped to look down at her hands, as if she’d let something precious slip.

“Inleio’s death was not your fault,” I said.

"I should’ve put Borba down like you’d suggested… but I didn’t.” Mumu shook her head in dismay. “He was so useful, though, and Kesa and Inleio both believed we should keep him until the Long Dark. His talents would’ve have been invaluable then. Besides, Inleio and Kesa are the village’s wisdom. How could I disregard their guidance?” Tears slipped from her eyes and fell onto her hands.

I got up on mostly steady feet and hugged her. “I’m so sorry.” That was all I could say. The feeling of love-affection-sympathy was bigger than anything else the truth-telling could pull out of me.

After a while, I felt Mumu sigh. “We grew up poor,” she said into my shoulder. “When my father died of a bad heart, we had to borrow a cart to take him to his funeral. I was four then, and still remember how it jostled and shook on the ride there. The light went to my mother, but it was meager and did little good. Then, when the Long Dark came, she and the rest of the family nearly died, and it was Inleio who saved us from the rampaging beasts. Oh, you should’ve seen him, Little Pot, he was at the height of his prowess then.”

“I would’ve liked that,” I said.

“Mmm. He was something special; even the lodge masters from the other villagers thought so. They often visited to consult with him. And they congratulated him when I turned five and was found to be Scout-Born. Then they did so again when we learned that I could use both qi and mana magic. ‘A good seed,’ they’d said, and even as young as I was, I could see the envy in their eyes.”

“What happened then?” I asked.

“I joined the lodge.”

“At five years old?”

“Yes. We didn’t have the money for the initiation, so Inleio paid it for us, and he made sure I earned my share of any bounties I participated in. More importantly, he taught me what it meant to be a hunter—the importance of what we do for the village and the people within it. And now he’s gone.”

“He’s not, and you know it,” I said.

“We are not like you, Little Pot. We can’t all see the dead.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I paused to think about how Yuki and I had responded to Inleio’s death. “When I look deeply into who I’ve become since I joined the lodge, Inleio is there. He’s in what I know and how I know it. Yes, the World Spirit taught me how to hold the spear, but it was Inleio who polished that knowledge. And I’ve only been in Voorhei for half a year! How much of him is in you, who’s known him all your life!”

I started to pat her back, like she’d patted mine earlier, and continued: “The dead never leave us. The air they once breathed, still circulates. The words they once said vibrate continuously outward. Their actions live on in the memories of those around them, impacting the generations that follow. That may not feel like much consolation right now, but just hold on—even the most grievous wounds can heal if you let them.”

“I am showing you my weakness,” Mumu muttered.

“Now that’s nonsense,” I said into her shoulder, not letting go. “Grief’s normal and good. People need it to clean their emotional wounds. Without it, their minds and spirits distort, bending them toward unhealthy habits.”

I paused to let the words sink in. “There’s a saying where I’m from that ‘hurt people hurt people.’ I’ve found it to be true. Also true is that you are one of the fiercest, most generous, talented, hardworking, enthusiastic, clever, and vibrant people I’ve ever met. You try so hard, and while that’s sometimes not enough in life, your efforts will eventually be rewarded. Things will get better.”

I felt her small smile against my cheek. “Our Eight, you know that I am already engaged to Haol and Dena. You cannot steal me from them, no matter how sweet your words.”

“And they’re damn lucky to have you,” I said, “but you need to treat them better. You need to treat yourself better. Running off like you did was damn foolishness, and you know it.”

Mumu’s smile faded, which was sad, but the words had to be said.

“So you told me already.” She sighed, and I felt her turn her head away.

“We’re stronger together,” I said.

“A truth,” she said.

“And our Mumu will find a way forward. She’s the cleverest hunter in our lodge. Next to me, of course.”

"You little devil, do you really believe that?”

There was a feeling, like I’d been tied up with an invisible rope and it had suddenly fallen away. A quick look at my Status showed that the Forced part of the Truth-Telling condition was now gone.

I grinned, and whispered into Mumu’s ear, “I don’t have to answer that.”

About an hour passed before my Status was finally clear of debilitating effects, and then Mumu had us wait about another ten minutes so that I could eat a stick of jerky. I hadn’t been sure my stomach could handle it, but the food did help settle me.

When we were finally ready to go, a land soldier came to get us. The woman wore mail, had a sword on her hip, and most interesting of all was her dark chestnut hair. She was the first person I’d seen since arriving in this world that didn’t have black hair.

The land soldier handed over my gear before stepping back outside to wait for us. Mumu had caught me staring. “So fickle, our Eight,” she said. “He is all honeyed words until he sees his first nathlein.”

“That’s a word I don’t know,” I said.

But Mumu only smiled in response, and signed, “Will explain later.”

I needed her help to get the antaak strapped into place, and then with putting on my jacket and hauberk. A quick check of the backpack showed that Ikfael’s statue was still okay and that she was sleeping inside it. As for everything else, nothing was missing.

Getting my stuff back intact spoke well of the land soldiers’ professionalism. As for the specific soldier who’d come to see us out, I checked her with my Status camera when we stepped out into the corridor.

Elinei Nathta’s Land Soldier (Human)

Talents: Natural Fighter, Knows a Thing or Two, The Wall Unbroken

Huh, so nathlein isn’t like being dolbec or nisaak. It seems to be part of her name, maybe the reference is geographic or cultural?

Elinei led us down a corridor toward a heavy curtain. It was a plain dark green when every other tapestry or rug I’d seen had some kind of design woven into it—usually of plants and animals, but sometimes forest scenes or multi-colored patterns.

The room on the curtain’s other side was similarly decorated. There was a carpet on the floor and tapestries on the walls to soften the otherwise stone room, but all the decorative features were in solid colors, tending toward the darker hues. It made the room feel heavy and closed-in, even with the door and window shutters open.

A land soldier sat at a low table near the corridor’s exit and scattered through the room were handfuls of people on cushions. A few turned to look expectantly at Mumu and me, but judging from their reactions, we weren’t who they were waiting for.

Elinei checked in briefly with the land soldier at the desk. I heard her say, “Mulallamu and Eight of Voorhei,” and then she was showing us the door. “If you’ll follow me.”

We stepped outside into a U-shaped compound that nestled against the base of the city wall. Directly under the wall to our left were the stables, and I saw horses, oxen, and war dogs, each in their own sections. In the middle of the U was a wide-open, cobbled courtyard that connected to a thoroughfare at the far end. To the right was a barrack, with several land soldiers sitting out front on camp stools, taking care of their weapons and armor. Each of the buildings, including the administrative offices we’d just left, were two stories tall.

The air outside was thick with the noises of city life. The land soldiers’ compound appeared to be adjacent to the gate, and there were all kinds of people hawking their wares to those entering and leaving the city. No one seemed to be afraid of yelling, doing their best to catch the attention of passersby.

There were scents too—of the nearby stables, obviously, but also of grilling meat, corn, and chilis; of sweat and unwashed human bodies; of woodsmoke and a faint coppery tang that had become all too familiar lately.

Elinei had a long stride, so I needed to jog a bit to catch up. “I smell blood.”

She glanced toward me. “That’d be the Butchery. It’s to the south, but the wind carries the scent wherever it will.” I thought she’d say more, but there was only the sound of her boots on the cobbles after.

“I see, thank you. Are we in a hurry?”

This time Elinei didn’t look my way. “We are. Word of your recovery has been sent to the captain. He will expect us at the gate.”

“And Nathta?” I asked. “What or where is that?” We were rapidly approaching our destination, so I figured I’d learn what I could.

Elinei turned toward Mumu. “Your apprentice asks many questions.”

Mumu’s smile in response was fleeting, but it did touch her eyes. “He does and is known in our village as the Little Pot of Questions.”

The soldier’s steps continued, but after a thoughtful pause she answered, “You are in Nathta; it’s the section of Albei where most nathlein live. And no, you may not touch my hair. Asking to do so is considered rude among my people.”

Huh, it must be enough of an annoyance that she needs to warn against it.

“Our Eight’s face is expressive,” Mumu said. “I can see the question before he asks it. To answer: a person who is nathlein is from elsewhere. My guess is that this fine land soldier is from the north where her people landed after crossing the ocean. They learned to live with the haltein there.”

So nathlein loosely translates to foreigner? And a haltein is native to a place?

“Wait, how big are the boundaries we’re talking about?” I asked. “Are the people from Voorhoos nathlein to the people of Voorhei?”

“No, the people of Voorhoos and Voorhei are of the same land,” Mumu said. “But if I were to cross the ocean, I would be the nathlein to the haltein there. Or if I traveled over the mountains to the west or the deep forests of the south. It is a matter of distance and the character of the land—how it changes us and makes us who we are.”

Sure, okay, that makes sense. Someone living up in the arctic is going to have a completely different way of life than someone at the equator, although that’s an extreme example. I assumed there were nuances when people straddled regional boundaries and shared cultural practices.

I wonder what life is like across the ocean. Oh, the journey must be tough—who knows what kind of creatures live in the water. Elinei’s determined stride brought us to our destination before I could ask, though.

Voorhei’s hunters stood to one side of the gate, clustered around Teila as if they were still in the wilds. Haol and Tegen were present too, looking bone weary but uninjured. The sight of my teammates went a long way to loosening some of the tension that’d been running through me. The feeling must’ve been reciprocated, because their relief at seeing me was palpable.

Almost instantly, hand signs flickered from most of the hunters, asking about my safety and wellbeing.

I signed back, “Safe, but I have a task to accomplish.”

Mumu must’ve said more than that, because the teams split, with Susu’s team jogging over and everyone else taking a seat to rest against the wall. That included Haol and Tegen. They’d have a moment’s respite while I did a favor for the land soldiers.

On the other side of the gate, Sondo and Aslishtei waited.

13

Albei and Its People

I opened my spirit eyes, and Calfet of Huwata flickered into view. He stood where I’d last seen him—about forty yards out toward the river east of us.

From beside me, Aslishtei asked, “What do you need to perform the ritual? How should we support you?”

I shook my head. “It’s already done, and I see him. Come on, follow me.”

The people waiting to get into the city stared and pointed as our strange group got moving. There was Mumu and me, of course, along with Susu’s team, Aslishtei, Sondo, and a handful of land soldiers, including a couple that—if I hadn’t seen them report to Sondo—I would’ve sworn were hunters. Their gear, the way they moved, everything about them felt familiar.

Mumu saw my confusion, and signed, “Land soldier scouts.”

Ah, I thought, that explains it.

‘They’re both qi users too,’ Yuki said. ‘We can smell it on them.’

They’re empowered in some way? Right now?

‘Yes,’ they said, ‘the magics were cast just as we arrived.’

Do you recognize the spells? I asked.

‘No, but they smell delicious.’

Okay, well, let’s keep an eye on them… along with everyone and everything else, I suppose.

At least the ground was flat, and since the grass had been grazed low around the city walls, it took hardly any effort to make our way toward Calfet’s ghost. He’d been a big man in life, easily taller than anyone in our group. His face was squarish too, almost like he had some dolbec in him.

We found no signs of his body, but there was blood on the ground, as well as the faint scent of urine. The land told the story of a brief struggle and something heavy being dragged toward the water. The hunters and scouts spread out to examine the area, yet the conclusion was obvious: Calfet’s body had been dumped into the river.

His ghost stared forlornly in that direction, which confirmed it in my eyes. Did the poor man walk away from the walls to take a piss and get ambushed? Was he just a snack for Borba?

‘Maybe, but there’s something wrong with the pattern of events,’ Yuki said. ‘We can’t quite figure it out though.’

Hmm? In what way? I doublechecked the signs but didn’t see anything unusual. Not until a few of the land soldiers happened to stand next to Calfet’s ghost—that was when the realization struck Yuki and me at the same time: all the land soldiers wore necklaces, but not the ghost.

The necklaces were identical in their make—half of a razor clam shell pierced by a small hole at one end, strung through with a leather cord, and worn outside the land soldiers’ armor.

“Um, what do those do?” I asked, pointing.

“Why do you want to know?” Sondo countered.

“It’s no secret, Sondo,” Aslishtei said. “Just tell the boy.”

Sondo pursed his lips, but then responded, “The necklaces are worn by the gate guards so that they can pass through the smoke without triggering its enchantments.”

My stomach sank as the implications registered. After seeing the precautions at the gate, a hope had kindled within me that Borba would’ve had to skip past the city and maybe focus on some of the settlements to the east, but no—

‘He got inside,’ Yuki said. ‘He found a way into Albei.’

I thought quickly. Let’s not be hasty. It’s possible the necklace wasn’t meaningful enough to justify it being represented after death. With how all the land soldiers wore them, though, that sounded thin, even to me. Still, it’d pay to make sure. I asked aloud, “The necklaces are important, then?”

“Of course,” Sondo replied. “They are the symbols of the gate guards.”

“And that meant something to Calfet? Being a gate guard, I mean.”

Sondo made a gesture, and one of the land soldiers with him stepped forward. The man was one of the guards who’d overseen our arrival. “Very much so. Calfet bragged about it to anyone who’d listen.”

“Ah,” I said. “Then I have some bad news. The ghost’s necklace is missing.”

The hunters around me frowned. They’d heard enough stories from me to know what that implied. Worst of all was Mumu—she turned as pale as a sheet.

“What are you saying?” Sondo asked.

“It’s likely that Calfet’s necklace was taken from him before he died,” I responded.

Sondo wasn’t stupid, and neither was Aslishtei. Both their spirits flashed in sudden understanding.

“The mankiller took the necklace,” Sondo said, scowling.

“So that he could pass into the city undetected,” Aslishtei said, finishing the thought. She wasn’t as obviously angry, but her spirit grew dark and cloudy. Her hands fingered the hoops at her sides.

Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it? What better place to hide than surrounded by thousands of other people? What better place to stay fed? “This is so bad,” I said, master of the obvious.

Mumu’s spirit was shaken. She grabbed onto my shoulder and gripped hard enough for me to feel it through my hauberk. I saw her fight to regain her composure, though, and she got out: “I need to talk to the grandmaster again. She must learn about what’s happened. Voorhei’s hunters, you’re with me.”

Aslishtei’s eyes flicked between Mumu and me, before they settled on Sondo. “You’d best go with them and find out how the Hunter’s Lodge plans to deal with this situation. I’ll report what we’ve learned to the land knight.” She faced Mumu directly before speaking again. “I can tell you now that Knight Ithia will not be pleased.”

As the others got ready, I whispered a quiet prayer for the dead. I didn’t know if Calfet sensed my intentions, but the heaviness around him seemed to lighten. I’d have to try to come back later to help him move on for real.

At any other time, I would’ve loved visiting Albei. The thick stone walls, the rowdy noises of the hawkers and store clerks, the busy and bustling streets—they were everything Uncle Kila had said they would be. I was in a real city again, except it also felt like being on set. The sights were just so fantastic.

Most of the clothing tended toward layers because of the weather, with a heavy emphasis on quality fur and buckskin, but I also saw embellishments that could easily have come from medieval Scandinavia, Ming dynasty China, and even some jewelry that looked like it might have been made by a Malian goldsmith.

It was a good reminder that everyone was connected to the World Spirit. I wasn’t the only one who could learn from Skill-Sensei. Having said that, though, nothing felt out of place. The people making the clothes and accessories clearly adjusted for the climate and practical needs of the people.

The architecture followed a similar pattern. I saw a lot of wooden structures, and brick and stone too; they were used to build multi-floored houses, as well as compounds with interior courtyards. The motifs were primarily Mesoamerican, with smatterings of other influences. One particularly gaudy residence had used way too much gold to trim the walls in Celtic-like patterns.

It helped that the city felt like a frontier town, a place where people from all over came to visit and mix together. That mostly came from the hunters and trappers who crowded the streets, as well as the merchants and artisans who supported them. Looking at their spirits, people were here to either get rich or get away from other, bigger cities.

At least the smells weren’t as bad as I’d feared. Yes, it became obvious when the wind shifted and carried with it the scents of the Butchery. And for sure, there was also the urine and dung from people’s animals and the sweat from people working hard—people who likely only bathed once a week. But they bathed! That was a plus. I spotted a bath house made of stone, steam rising from the fires within.

Elinei had joined Sondo’s retinue, so I bugged her with questions where and when I could. That earned me a lot of sideways glances, but she responded to them all so it couldn’t have been too annoying.

I learned that the city’s proper name was Albeityel, but everyone just called it Albei. Just to the east was the Sootyel River.

The “yel” part of a place name was supposed to signify a regional seat of power, and when I asked why it was also applied to the river’s name, Elinei explained that it was a play on words. The river was so important to the people of Albei that they called it—and this was a rough translation—the capital river of wellbeing.

I also learned that there were two land gates to the north and west, as well as two river gates to the east and south. The city itself was broken up into five sections:

- Nathta, home of the descendants of the people who crossed the ocean and made their way south and inland to Albei—the nathlein, like Elinei herself.

- Geista, home of the various stray peoples, like the dolbec and nisaak.

- Baaista, also known as the Butchery. It was a massive, oversized district devoted to trade in animal and plant parts.

- Taakta, the artisan and merchant section. Basically, the business district for everything besides the animal and plant trade.

- Scathta, the home of everyone not included above. It also encompassed the river docks and warehouses required to support them.

There were no walls between the sections, and it seemed like the city’s builders hadn’t bothered with urban planning. Unlike the neighboring villages, whose layouts were designed with defense in mind, Albei’s buildings pressed close together willy nilly.

When I made the observation to Elinei, she pointed out that there were barracks in every section, and each of them housed several contingents of land soldiers, as well as war dogs and their riders. Plus, the city’s fulltime residents were required to be in the militia.

Honestly, looking at how the streets ran crooked through the city, maybe the people living here didn’t need urban planning for defense. Odds were, anyone who didn’t know their way would get easily lost and separated from their fellow attackers. Hells, with the right guerilla tactics on the defender’s side, this place would be a nightmare for anyone, or anything, assaulting the city.

There were major thoroughfares that cut through the maze, though, including one that looked like it circled the whole city. I was told it was called Albeitsoot, the street of wellbeing. That street was apparently how most of the goods entering from any of the city’s gates got to the Butchery.

As we traversed the Albeitsoot, we came across a double-wide cart carrying a tarped creature. The cart’s escorts all wore masks—not to hide their identities, but because of the smell. The stink of whatever was under there would have given an undead hellmouth a run for its money.

The cart paused to let us pass, and that was true of everyone else too. When people spotted our three teams being escorted by land soldiers, all of us moving purposefully along the cobbled streets, they got out of the way. All we’d need to complete the effect was a siren.

‘Make way for the fuzz,’ Yuki said, observing our surroundings through my eyes.

Fuzz? I asked, incredulous. Where the hell did you get that from?

‘You saw a movie with Terence Hill in it—Super Fuzz.’

Gods, but that was a blast from the past. The movie was from the early 1980s, and its premise was a cop who had developed superpowers from being exposed to... what was it? Red plutonium. And why were you looking up Terence Hill?

‘He was also in those spaghetti westerns you liked so much.’

Westerns? Ah, you're curious about frontier towns, I said.

‘That’s right,’ Yuki said. ‘By the way, have you tasted the qi in the air yet?’

There’d been so much to see, hear, and smell that I’d half-closed my magical senses to keep from being overwhelmed. At Yuki’s prodding, though, I opened and immediately felt the confluence of qi—brash and colorful and hungry for life. It came in all kinds and flavors. If it were a casserole or a stew, I’d say the chef hadn’t been able to tame the ingredients; each one fought to dominate the others.

There were a lot of ghosts too, including some jaw-droppingly-large beasts, but I tuned them out as best I could.

When Elinei had described the Butchery, she hadn’t done the plaza at its center justice. The place was easily the size of Tiananmen Square in Beijing. I’d never been myself, but I’d seen lots of footage, and the two were definitely comparable, at least in size. Only about half the acreage looked to be in use at the moment, though.

The southeast end was occupied by colorful tents of all shapes and sizes, with crowds of people moving between them and doing their best to avoid the shouting touts. None of the structures looked permanent, and from the way I saw some merchants disassembling their tents and others assembling them, my guess was that it transitioned between day and night markets.

In a surreal contrast, the other side of the plaza was awash in blood and guts. Tall metal frames jutted from the ground, from which giant creatures hung in order to be butchered, including the giant badger I’d seen being lifted over the city walls earlier.

A team of people dressed each carcass. They worked from the ground, using the skinning equivalent of polearms, or when more finesse was required, they climbed directly onto the bodies with long knives or machetes.

The amazing thing was that the smell didn’t worsen the closer we got; it stayed at about the same level as elsewhere in the city. I also didn’t see any flies, rats, or pests of any kind.

Before I could even ask about it, Elinei pointed out a pattern of grooves carved into the plaza floor. It was impossible to see the entire shape from the ground—that’d require an aerial view—but there were loops and whorls and other lines that swept across the whole of the space.

And in the center of the giant magical array was the Albei Hunter’s Lodge.

The building was three stories tall and built from white stone covered in engravings of animals and plants of all kinds. Some of the art kept to itself, contained to a single block, but others escaped their bounds and stretched out across swaths of the building. Those bigger animals were easy to spot, even from a distance—a winged lizard, a giant bear on two legs, something that looked like a wooly mammoth, a snake circling a tree, and many more.

It was one of the most astounding cultural artifacts I’d ever seen, and I’d visited quite a few in my previous life.

Two large double doors stood open, and above them was a sign in burnished brass of the lodge’s symbols: the crossed spear and bow. There appeared to be side entrances too, which people used for transporting goods, but the front entrance seemed to be for people only.

On the building’s roof was a small pyramid from which soft waves of magic emanated. My sense was that it was a mix of nature mana and... water qi? That wasn’t something I’d ever encountered, but Yuki had, and they nodded to confirm my guess. Well, however it worked, the magic suppressed the stink of the place.

My hands itched for want of a camera. I would’ve loved to be able to document the place and share it with my family.

The pace set by Sondo never slowed once, and he led us straight to the lodge’s entrance and through the doors without even a moment to examine the carvings on the building’s exterior.

Once I stepped inside the lodge, my attention was immediately drawn to a spring-coil of an elderly woman, probably in her early 60s, with a patch over her right eye. I literally couldn’t look away from her, and I understood at a fundamental level that she was the lodge’s grandmaster. It also didn’t hurt that she’d had the lodge’s crossed spear and bow stitched into the eye patch with silver wire.

The grandmaster wore a tan robe trimmed with white fur over buckskin tunic and pants. She also had on a silver necklace with a simple ruby pendant, as well as a silver chain around her head like a tiara.

I counted three knives tucked away among her garments, but from the way she moved, I had a feeling there might be more. Or was that Knife Arts-Sensei talking to me? That happened sometimes—I’d catch myself thinking something that didn’t entirely come from Yuki or me.

Anyway, the grandmaster met us just inside the lodge’s entrance. It wasn’t clear to me how she knew we were on our way, and no skills whispered the secret of it in my ear. No skills maybe, but I did have a talent that let me... click.

Silasenei the Grandmaster of the Hunter’s Lodge (Human, Silvered)

Talents: Born Hunter, Knife Friend, Persistent Survivor, Ear for Trouble, Shadow-Touched, The Hidden Piece

My jaw dropped. Holy what the hell. Those talents—Born, Friend, and Touched? Each of them signified a potent ability, and with so many of them, the Silasenei made the best of Voorhei’s hunters look like country bumpkins. I’d thought that Inleio and Mumu were amazing, but the grandmaster was in a league all her own. What does it even mean to be The Hidden Piece?

Yet when I tried to peer into her spirit, all I picked up was a powerful watchfulness. I wasn’t the only one who felt it either. For the first time, Sondo slowed down, while the hunters and land soldiers behind me froze, like they were in the presence of a great predator. Which, looking objectively at her talents, they were.

With a nod, Silasenei gave Dura’s and Susu’s teams permission to peel off. They had bounties to turn in for the cutter hawks, and also needed to register Teila’s contribution to the hunt for them.

How did she know, though? My mind jumped to several, likely overdramatic, interpretations of her talents, but all the hunters had visibly full packs. It was also obvious we’d been out in the wilds for a couple of days, so it was reasonable to assume we’d pick up some things along the way.

“The common land soldiers can wait here,” the grandmaster said, “as can Integnei and Haoleise.” Then, she looked at Mumu and me, and I felt the sharp edge of her anticipation like a knife drawn across my skin. “The rest of you, with me.”

14

Hunters Do What They Must

Mumu was the lodge master in Voorhei for two reasons. The first was that she could use both qi and mana magic, which was exceedingly rare. The second was because she was Scout Born. With that talent, she had access to an innate camouflage ability and gained huge bonuses to learning a wide range of related skills and spells, as well as picking up associated talents.

She and I had had a long conversation about it as part of an effort to connect what my Status camera told me and the actual effects of people’s talents. I’d interviewed everyone I could about their talents, then compared what I’d learned to the information presented to me by the camera.

I’d discovered through these conversations that, for the most part, my Status camera adopted the naming conventions used by world speakers to describe the talents they saw in people’s spirit maps. The only exceptions were the unique talents that only one person or maybe a handful of people might have. For those, my System generated its own names, drawing on my experiences, hobbies, interests, and cultural references, which unfortunately led to some annoyingly obscure names.

Still, I’d learned a lot. For example, if a talent used “Born” in the name, then the person with it possessed an advantage over anyone else. Much more common were talents that used “Natural” in the name. Those people still got bonuses, but to a fewer number of related skills, and the effects were not nearly as pronounced. No innate abilities either, but they usually had a knack for whatever it was.

Haol was a Natural Archer, and he was damn good at it too, but his skillset was narrower than Mumu’s. Her Scout Born meant that she benefitted more from her efforts to improve. Someone without her talent, even if they trained as hard as her, wouldn’t go as far.

It was unfair, absolutely unfair, and different than what I knew in my previous life. There, talent was helpful, but attitude and hard work beat it every time. As did luck, which included the family you happened to be born into.

And passions too, which was why Haol hadn’t been slated to become lodge master. As a qi and mana magic user, he’d been tagged for the role at an early age. Word was that his family had been ecstatic, and they’d totally expected him to apprentice to Inleio, but it’d all come crashing down.

Haol had been obsessed with the bow, even as a young boy, so he’d disregarded all the lessons to learn the leadership and administrative skills required for becoming lodge master. The man had been incredibly talented and hardworking, earning a spot on the village’s top hunter team, but his reputation had been that of a slacker for not picking up the responsibilities required of him.

It wasn’t until the hunt for the King of the Forest that he’d redeemed himself. Tegen too, for that matter. The older hunter would’ve made a fantastic lodge master, but he didn’t have the talents and magical abilities the position needed.

Really, the role talents played in this society couldn’t be overstated, which was why Silasenei’s blew my mind.

She was a Born Hunter, which provided an innate ability plus bonuses to every hunting skill she had. On top of that, she was a Knife Friend, another big deal.

Inleio had possessed Spear Friend, and he’d explained to me how the talent had helped him feel connected to the weapon and the World Spirit. It was surprisingly hard for him to articulate, but from what I'd gathered it was like holding the spear or drawing the bow, except more. Much more—like the tunnel connecting the skill to the World Spirit had been pre-dug for him, and all he’d needed to do was pay attention.

Combined with being Wood-Wise, Spear Friend had made Inleio famous.

Going back to Silasenei, as if being a Born Hunter and Knife Friend weren’t enough, she was also Shadow-Touched. What? Like for real, what? She can manipulate shadows too?

This collection of talents was ridiculous, just ridiculous.

Although, too bad she didn’t have One with Shadow instead—from what I’d recently learned, that would’ve given her the ability to disappear into the shadows. How cool would that be? You’d be near invincible as a hunter. Or a deadly assassin, which then made me wonder about The Hidden Piece.

I’d not seen a talent like it previously, so there was a chance it was unique to her, but it also might be an artifact of my sample size. If I looked at all the talents of all the people in the world, I’m sure there’d be many more patterns present than the ones I’d found. Still, given how hard it was to interpret The Hidden Piece, I suspected it was unique, and with relatively complicated effects too. That was another pattern I’d noticed: the more obscure the name, the more complicated the mechanics.

Finally, how could I not notice that Silasenei was also silvered? That meant she was at least Level 10, though probably on the low side. The stonewater serpent had also been silvered, yet I hadn’t been able to see her talents. Still, Level 10 required 61,750 light, an enormous amount.

Altogether, Silasenei seemed to embody what it meant to be a hunter in this world—not just her level and talents, but also the sharpness of her attention, the way she carried herself, and the ability to exert pinpoint violence as needed.

No wonder I felt like a field mouse in the presence of a giant eagle.

Silasenei’s office was big enough for a low desk and a meeting table surrounded by cushions. On the wall behind the desk hung a painting of a forest scene, the setting dark with just a hint of a sunbreak in the background and a chliapp lion prowling forward, away from the light and toward the viewer. Tapestries hung on the other walls too—more forest scenes, but nothing as ominous as the lion.

The room’s other notable feature was a metal spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. As the others moved toward the cushions to sit around the table, I detoured to peek upward, noticing that the stairs continued all the way to the third floor and hatch set into the ceiling.

Then, I spotted what looked like a couple of unideer antlers being used as paperweights on the desk, and my hands itched to get a hold of them. Did they have the same Cold Snap spell as Antler-Sensei back home? Or something different?

I must’ve unintentionally wandered closer for a look, because Mumu called, “Eight, over here, please.”

Everyone else was already sitting, so I scooted toward the meeting table. Mumu had kept a spot open next to her, and I took it.

“Now, then,” Silasenei said, looking at each person in turn, “we are all here, so explain.”

“That Borba I talked to you about,” Mumu said, “we believe he’s entered the city.”

“And he got in by killing one of my men,” Sondo said.

All it took was a moment before Silasenei said, “Ah, for the soldier’s necklace, to pass through the smoke undetected.”

“Yes—” Mumu began, but Sondo interrupted.

“We’ll need compensation for the soldier’s family, and for the Hunter’s Lodge to catch their wayward mule before he kills anyone else.”

Silasenei nodded to each demand. “We will, of course, do what needs to be done.”

Sondo looked directly at her as he continued, “I will also say that Knight Ithia has not been pleased with the Hunter’s Lodge of late. The conflict with the healers is already complicating life in Albei, and now there is this?”

Honestly, I didn’t know how he could stay so composed—his eyes didn’t flinch at all when facing the grandmaster. Me, on the other hand, I could barely look at her. Every time I did, I sensed I was being watched, even while her attention was on Sondo. I felt like I was being flayed open for her to examine my insides just by being in the same room.

“Borba is one thing, and the healers another,” Silasenei said.

“And the healers will use Borba against you. You know they will. Don’t let them. Better yet, make peace with healers. Resolve both situations, and quickly.”

There was a beat where Silasenei tilted her head, and then she said again, “We will, of course, do what needs to be done.” The faintest upturn at the edges of her lips accompanied her words.

“That’s what I’m damned afraid of,” Sondo said.

Silasenei’s response was as dry as a bone left to bleach in the sun: “Then you should probably have a conversation with the healer’s grandmaster too, yes? About resolving things peacefully.”

“I have, and I will again,” Sondo said. He glanced toward Mumu and me, and seemed to decide to continue despite our presence. “The soldiers and hunters have long been allies. We’re with you in this, but there are times when you must give ground to take it later.”

Silasenei’s eyes narrowed. “How many hunters and soldiers will we lose until then? And that assumes the healers will eventually relent. They will never let us have anything that threatens their hold on our wellbeing, and you know it. At some point, Captain, you will need to make a stand, but don’t worry... as always, the hunters will find a way.”

With that, the conversation was essentially over. Oh, Sondo and Silasenei talked more, the two of them ignoring Mumu and me, but the points were all the same, just rehashed in different ways. Eventually, Sondo recognized that further talk was pointless. He said his farewells, gave us all a nod, and left.

The grandmaster waited until the door was closed, then a few more moments as she appeared to be listening to something. Satisfied, she turned toward us, her eyes as bright and sharp as her knives. They took in the details of me—the cloak and armor, both damaged by the recent encounter with the cutter hawks; the shock of black hair on my head that wouldn’t be tamed no matter what my family did; and my own curious-wary-anxious eyes that examined her in turn.

Ever since walking into the Albei Hunter’s Lodge, Yuki had hidden themselves away, becoming one with my land, and I’d folded my spirit around them too.

“Do you need to use the toilet, boy? You look like you’ve got a tree stuck up your ass.”

I sputtered, caught off guard. My mental preparations for whatever discussion or interrogation was coming were scattered, which had no doubt been the grandmaster's intention.

“Better,” she said, her expression softening. “Now that looks like the face of a boy. You hear me in there, young Eight, in that head and heart of yours? Don’t be in too much of a hurry to be older than you need to be. It’s better to blend with your place in the world.”

Silasenei chuckled at what must’ve been my confused expression. At the same time, a sadness was revealed on her face. Her eyes were still as pointed as ever, but they no longer felt directed at me. It was from this complicated mixture of emotions that she spoke next.

“Your old grandmaster was not a fool, and he was my friend. Of course I’d share a bit of wisdom with his apprentice, with both his apprentices. Do you hear me, Mumu and Eight? A hunter learns the land, hides in the land, and hunts from the land—their weapons ever at the ready. But sometimes the land keeps secrets, and a hunter knows to keep them too.”

Is she... is she talking about Yuki? The advice had been general enough, sure, but if you happened to know about Yuki, then it took on an entirely different meaning.

I glanced at Mumu, and it was as if the grandmaster’s words were stones thrown into her like she was a pool of water, the surface rippling as they sank deep within. There wasn’t any guilt, though, nor anything else that indicated she’d told Silasenei about me.

But Inleio might have. He’d been a practical man, and I could see him sharing my secret if he’d thought he’d needed to or it had served an important-enough purpose. I frowned at the thought, and it just so happened that Mumu did too at the same time.

“Our Voorhei never fails to be interesting.” Then Silasenei’s expression turned stony. “But words are words and actions are actions. You have a man to hunt.”

“Inleio will be avenged,” Mumu said, clenching her fists. “I promise it. My Wild Sense won’t work within the city, and my Tracker is useless among so many people, but”—she gestured toward me—“our Eight has an Uncanny version of the talent. There are also his spirit eyes—”

I shook my head. “There are too many people and ghosts. Any disturbances will be lost among them.”

“Still, an Uncanny talent may be enough,” Silasenei said. “The lodge will also listen for news of attacks on animals or people, and the land soldiers will no doubt be doing the same.”

“You may want to include disappearances with that,” I said. “Borba knows we’re hunting him, so he’ll hide any kills to keep us from picking up his trail.”

“That means paying attention to anything that sounds like a serious illness,” Mumu said. “He may mark people with his Siphon, leaving them alive so that he can drain them slowly over time.”

“For that, we’ll have to talk to the healers,” Silasenei said, “which I’d rather not do. The discussions between our lodges are already tense, but we will find out what we can using our own means.”

“About them—” I started, but Silasenei cut me off with a gesture.

Then, she brought her hands down to her lap so that they’d only be visible to us, and signed, “Always assume someone is listening.” Aloud she said, “Leave the negotiations with the healers to us. We will do what we can.” As she spoke, she also signed, “We will do what we must, but be careful—so will the healers.”

The rest of the meeting didn’t last long, and eventually Mumu and I were escorted by the grandmaster to the lodge’s lobby. Silasenei didn’t have anything else to say in parting, though she gave us each a look full of expectations before leaving.

The other hunters from Voorhei were clumped together in a corner of the lobby, many of them tucked into each other, asleep. They looked a proper mess, all of them—travel worn and grimy with dried sweat and mud.

Honestly, even as dirty as they were, I wanted to throw myself into the pile, but held back. The moment I let myself rest, I’d be out like a light. So I endured, and kept myself upright… for the time being anyway.

I don’t know how they did it, but Haol and Tegen were still awake. They must’ve been running on pure willpower. Mumu too, but she forged ahead and debriefed Dura and Susu on the events leading up to our arrival to the city. There were several items that needed further discussion, like the cutter hawks and Teila “learning” Nature’s Spring, but those issues were tabled for later to address immediate needs first.

Susu and her team were tasked with arranging our lodgings. There were apparently a number of inns that catered to visiting hunters, and the teams from Voorhei had prior relationships with a few. Afterward, they’d hit the markets. We were still good for provisions, but we’d burned through all our first-aid supplies.

As for Dura’s team, Mumu asked them to accompany my team and me as we searched the city for Borba. None of us were in proper fighting shape, so we’d have to make up for it with numbers if we somehow managed to find him.

When I asked if two teams of hunters walking the streets would stand out, Mumu told me, “Only a little.” Apparently, it wasn’t unusual for visiting groups to stick together. We’d be marked as out-of-towners, but that’d be obvious from our demeanor anyway.

To me, that meant watching out for pickpockets and higher prices from merchants, which, when I mentioned it to the others, made them all tiredly nod.

Yep, welcome to the big city. Some things you can always count on.

Also, we were instructed that no one was to travel alone; every hunter should always stick with their teams. Just because we were hunting Borba didn’t mean he couldn’t hunt us in turn.

Finally, Dura handed me my share of the bounty for the cutter hawks—half an antaak in coins—plus the couple of eltaak I’d loaned him earlier. He told me that the others had agreed to give me a quintuple share in recognition for both playing bait and the healing I’d provided afterward.

There was also a small pouch of silvery nuggets. They were tiny little things, but together the silverlight added up.

That, in turn, reminded Mumu of the silverlight she’d been holding onto from the giant owl hunt, which she decided to distribute to us even though Kesa’s team wasn’t present. “We strengthen ourselves when we can,” she said, giving me a triple share.

From the cutter hawks, I gained:

133 silverlight gathered. 120 absorbed.

And from the giant owl:

210 silverlight gathered. 189 absorbed.

The combined silverlight fluttered through me, and for a moment I felt lifted up, buoyed by the rush. The air in my lungs swirled, crisp and cold, and the chill seeped into the rest of me, icing my meridians. My breath frosted when I breathed out, but just once, and then the feeling was gone.

A notification blinked on my phone:

Aeromancy increased from 5 to 6.

I let out another breath and thought about the last time I’d gained a skill rank from absorbing silverlight. That had been a gain in my Poison Arts from an undead hellmouth, and it’d triggered a long conversation with Ikfael about the nature of silverlight.

The gist was that the silverlight remaining after death was the crusty stuff left over from converting it into more useable forms like body power, qi, and mana. Silverlight was literally one of the fundamental building blocks of creation, and because of the energy’s nature, it carried within it both memory and meaning.

No souls, thank goodness, but the echo of them made manifest, which was heady stuff and eased my concerns about absorbing silverlight from the fallen. Mostly, anyway. A part of me continued to worry and likely always would. Anything having to do with the dead had always been a sensitive topic for my first family, and that had stuck with me through the years.

I shook off my thoughts, then noticed others doing the same after they’d absorbed their shares.

Not all the hunters absorbed the silverlight, though. A few saved their share for the head of their household. For example, Ahlrein gave his to Miri. Normally, Teila would’ve also handed her share over, but she was a special case. Her family allowed her to absorb light, since she was expected to one day lead them.

Outside, the sun was dropping behind the western wall, casting long shadows across the city. There were still people at work across the Butchery, but a cart traveled from spot to spot to deliver braziers and firewood.

The cart’s driver, an old man wrapped in a coat, called out in a singsong voice: “A fire to light your way. A fire to warm your bones. A fire to see the work through.” The translation into English wasn’t anything special, but in Diaksh the phrases were quite melodic.

At the other side of the plaza, more stalls were being taken down and others put up in their place in confirmation of a transition from day to night market. Music began to play from one corner, a cheerful tune on flute and drums, and I caught sight of a wheelbarrow full of meat being delivered, fresh from being butchered.

Mumu tapped me on the shoulder and gestured that we should get going. The plan was to head to the city gate where we’d hopefully pick up Borba’s trail once again.

“Is this wise?” I asked as we got underway.

“We left wisdom behind a night ago,” Mumu said, “but we do what we have to.”

“Hunting in the dark, I mean. When we’re just barely hanging on.”

“The more we let Borba get ahead,” Mumu said, “the harder it’ll be, especially here in Albei. We must stop him before he can steal any more spells, otherwise he’ll become impossible to hunt.. He—” Her voice cracked then, but she kept going. “He needs to die for what he’s done, and we’ll be the ones to do it. He’s our responsibility, our shame.”

I reminded her: “He fed on the soldier Calfet’s qi not long ago. He’ll have more energy than we do.”

“A person cannot survive on qi alone,” Mumu replied. “They must eat, drink, and rest too. Believe me, Eight, Borba is just as tired as we are. We must strike before he can establish himself in this wilderness of a city.”

All of that sounded reasonable enough, but I wasn’t convinced—not when the hunters were so exhausted. The rest they’d gotten at the lodge had done them good, but it wasn’t nearly the same as a night’s sleep.

Mumu must’ve seen my reluctance, because she said, “I heard you back at the soldiers’ barracks, Eight. I heard you. But now you need to hear me... Borba must die, and I swear by the spirits that it will be our lodge who kills him. If we’d set out when I’d wanted to, the night of Inleio’s death, then we would’ve caught him before he reached Voorsowen, before he regained his strength among their herds. Now we are here, though, and must deal with the consequences of our actions and inactions. If we don’t, others may die.”

Which was, yeah—those were real possibilities, weren’t they? Although we couldn’t be sure we would’ve caught up to Borba if we’d left earlier. The “what ifs” were too many, especially given the dangers of traveling at night. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be said for Borba killing again—that was a near certainty. Until Borba was found, he could do whatever he wanted.

I licked my lips, and thought and thought and thought, but couldn’t see a way forward that didn’t include innocents dying, whether they were members of our lodge or residents of Albei.

I felt beat up. My mind was exhausted too, from the drugs and spells used on me earlier. I wasn’t in any condition to do anything other than sleep, but Mumu was my lodge master. More than that, she was one of my best friends in the world.

There was determination in the set of her shoulders and the brisk pace she set. Her stride never wavered as she said, “Needs must push us onward.”

15

Albei and Its Ghosts

By the time we arrived back at Albei’s north gate, the sun had set and a thick layer of clouds had rolled in, covering the city in night’s dark mantle. A chill wind blew, and more than a few people still walked the streets, but the number decreased as I watched—the people going indoors where it was warm and light.

Not the hunters from Voorhei, though. We’d gathered just inside the gate in search of bloody justice—assuming we could find Borba, of course.

The hunters spread out in a defensive formation around Teila and me. In the forest, this would also be the time when they’d look for signs of our prey’s passage, but it was impossible among Albei’s cobbled streets. That didn’t stop Mumu from trying, but the result was only a shake of her head.

“As I thought, the city confuses my talents; they’re of no help.”

Okay, then it’s on me. Get your head in the game, Ollie. Take a breath, and... I opened myself to the land.

It’d been so long since I was among this many people, I’d forgotten how it felt: the hive-like buzz of human lives, wriggling-busy-squirming in burrows made of brick, wood, and stone. In a city, every facet of life was manufactured—the products of hands working in concert, working in opposition.

There was order, and chaos too. Both were artifacts of intentions made material through everyday actions: the sights, sounds, and smells of human work and human passions.

The area around the gate was dedicated to facilities serving travelers, and I became the lively music spilling out the doors of the inns nearby; the stern entrance to the administrative compound where I’d been held; the cobbled stones worn smooth by the passage of feet and hooves moving toward the stables.

I smelled dung and urine and, for a moment, the breeze stole a whiff of sweet incense as it blew past an open shutter. There was also the heavier smell of blood coming from the Butchery, and just under that, the barest hint of rusty-red qi.

I joined with Yuki, as well as the land, and we confirmed the scent belonged to Borba. We walked, and the hunters moved with us, creating another form of order within the larger patterns of the city.

The breeze blew stronger, which picked up more of Borba’s qi. The buildings grew taller; they gained wooden counters out front that were raised for the evening, doubling as shutters. During the day, they’d be lowered to display the shop’s goods. At night, they advertised the goods in stylized artwork.

The shops abutted each other, often sharing walls, but there were also gaps that acted as narrow alleys. We went into one, and followed a sequence of lefts and straights, moving between buildings and across streets.

Our travels formed three sides of a rectangle as we turned back toward the gate. The scent of Borba’s qi became stronger.

Up ahead, we thought—at the end of the narrow, zig-zag alley we’d been following.

From the alley’s exit, we found a view of the gate, and the qi seemed to linger there as if Borba had stayed for some time. Perhaps hours—long enough to witness Mumu’s arrival and even our own.

There was blood on the ground, so we followed the trail to a gap between buildings, one barely big enough for Ollie/Eight’s body to fit through. There, deep within, we found the ghost of a young girl sitting on the ground next to her body, her arms hugging her knees while she wept into them.

As we approached, the girl continued to ignore us, lost as she was in the unexpected horror of her death. We noted how the walls had been splashed red with blood, how her throat had been torn out and her ribcage slashed open. We also saw that her heart was missing. Borba must’ve taken it. Perhaps it had been his snack as he’d observed Voorhei’s hunters wait for Ollie/Eight to be released from custody.

Was he smug? Did he revel at our ignorance of his watching us? The signs didn’t answer our questions, and our talent provided no insights. All we knew was that we were furious.

Behind us, at the gap’s entrance, the hunters whispered, but they were known and trusted. We let them stay dim in our attention as we pulled our favorite knife from its sheath and pushed spirit mana into it. Then we poked a hole in Tenna’s Gift.

Unfortunately, our combined Ollie/Yuki/Eight consciousness couldn’t speak to the dead, so we separated, and I came back to myself with a quick shiver. The street adjacent to the alley had been crawling with ghosts. It didn’t matter much normally, but with Tenna’s Gift disabled, I was potentially putting myself in jeopardy. Seriously so.

There were monsters among the ghosts. They didn't seem to notice me yet, tucked away as I was. I’d have to be careful not to make too much spiritual noise.

The girl didn’t notice me either. Her head was still on her knees, her weeping unabated.

My hand clenched around the knife, and it took a moment to get my anger under control. A quick look told me that Teila had followed me into the gap between buildings, but all the other hunters were in the alley behind her. None of them could fit, and they were far enough away they wouldn’t be able to see what I planned to do.

Good, I can make this work.

Teila’s eyes widened when she saw the knife in my hand, and quickly signed, “Where danger?”

“Not danger,” I said, also signing, “a secret.”

“Like Yuki?” she signed, making sure her hands weren’t visible to the other hunters.

“Even more.”

Her expression had been wary, which was understandable given the body and the blood, but that didn’t keep her eyebrows from climbing high in surprise. “How could there be more?”

“I can’t explain now, but I will later.”

Teila would soon become the fifth hunter to learn that I could speak with the dead. It should be fine, though, since she’d so far kept Yuki’s secret safe. She might only be nine, but Teila was my hunt sister through and through. She trusted me with her life, and I could trust her with mine.

“What you’re about to see,” I signed, “only a handful of people know about: Mumu, Kesa, Haol, and Ben. Ikfael too, if that’s a comfort. There’s nothing bad in it—I want you to know that.”

“Does this secret need my help?” Teila asked.

I shook my head. “No, just watch my back. Shield me so that the others don’t see what’s about to happen.”

Teila put her hand on my shoulder. “I will.”

“Thank you,” I said, then turned so that I could focus on the ghost. By that point, she’d looked up from her weeping, like she’d heard something dangerous nearby.

“Be easy,” I whispered, infusing the words with my will. “No more harm will come to you.”

The ghost’s head snapped to me, and she panicked, backing up in a rush. I realized, then, that I’d made a mistake: my knife was still in my hand. Her eyes were locked on it, and even when I hurriedly sheathed it, the girl didn’t stop trying to get away. She could’ve easily gone through the walls, and parts of her did, but she was so fixed on me she didn’t notice.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I raised my hands to show they were empty. “You have my word on it. We’re here to catch the person who hurt you.”

The girl looked down in response, saw the body on the ground, and froze. “Th-th-that's me.”

“No,” I said, my whispers urgent. “That’s the skin your spirit shed. You are you—whole and inviolable—and you will stay that way if we act quickly. My name is Eight, and the people behind me are hunters from Voorhei. We are chasing a murderer, the same murderer who killed you.”

“I’m dead,” she said, her face anguished.

Some ghosts became trapped in their anger, unable to escape. Others got stuck in their sorrow. This young girl’s temptation was clearly the latter, so I stepped forward to get in between her and her body. That way, she was forced to look at me instead.

“Listen to me and focus on my words. You’re going to be all right, I promise. I’m going to help you get to a safer place, but first I need to ask some questions.”

The ghost looked around fearfully. “Where am I? What happened? I’m scared.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry for keeping you from moving on.” I poured more will into my words, and I immediately felt myself become lightheaded. “Please—what’s your name? That’s an easy question, right? Can you tell me that?”

“N-name?” The girl’s ghost quieted, her gaze settling onto me. “I-it’s Salu. My mother gave it to me; she said it was because I’m pretty.”

If I remembered right, a salu was a kind of bird, too small to hunt. “And your mother, is she nearby?”

“No, the shakes took her last year.”

“The shakes? Is that a disease?”

Salu nodded. “It went around the city. The healers and alchemists found a cure, but they’re always slow getting to the walls. The people who live under them don’t matter as much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that—”

“She’s gone, and now I’m gone too.” Salu’s voice began to rise in a panic. “What will the others do—”

“Hey, hey, easy now,” I said. “Focus on me and my words. You and I are talking, yes?”

The budding alarm in the girl’s eyes eased. “Yes.”

Nearby, I heard the scrape of giant claws on stone. The ghosts of monsters roaming the streets could discover me at any moment, but I had to balance the potential danger with not scaring off Salu’s ghost.

“I have to ask about something difficult. The man who hurt you, do know where he went? Where he might be now?”

The girl hunched in on herself, though she kept her eyes on me. “H-he dragged me here from the alley.” She pointed toward where the hunters were gathered. “And went back that way after he... after he killed me. Then, later, he came again—I saw him pass by—and he went the other direction.” She pointed east.

"That's good. You’re doing fine. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

The girl started to shake her head, and then suddenly reached up to touch her chest.

“Don’t panic. He took your heart—”

“My mother’s necklace,” Salu said, interrupting. “I-it’s gone.”

I checked the body, but didn’t find any jewelry. If she had been wearing a necklace, Borba must’ve taken it. Salu placed her face in her hands and began to sob, her shoulders shaking. It tore my heart to see her suffering like that, but I had one more question to ask.

“Was your necklace valuable? What did it look like?”

Salu didn’t respond, so I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. That was enough to startle her into looking at me, as if actually seeing me for the first time.

“How are you doing that?” She put one of her hands over mine and said, “You’re so warm. Can I? Can I stay with you?”

I pulled my hand away. “No, I can’t allow that, but I will help you find someplace better.”

Salu looked doubtful, and I saw her lips tremble.

“Truly,” I said. “There’s a much-more-beautiful place waiting for you, where you’ll get the chance to rest and reflect, before reentering the wheel of life.”

My words were apparently enough to distract Salu from her pain. Suddenly confused, she asked, “The gods won’t take me?”

“Oh, yes, it’d make sense if the gods were involved in what happens after death and—” I stopped, because I realized it was my exhaustion starting to talk instead of me. After a breath to center myself, I started again: “I’ve only seen a little bit of what’s on the other side of life, and there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just another journey, and there’ll be those who’ve gone before to guide you.”

Salu looked doubtful.

“I’m telling you I’ve seen it. There was this sugar maker, see? He’d been murdered too, and—” In the distance, I heard a huge body scraping against one of the buildings. “No, never mind, we don’t have time for that story.”

I tried to recall the feeling, though, from when Bindeise’s ghost had moved on. He’d also suffered in his life, but there’d been a sense of gladness and reunion at the end—a relieved smile on his face. So, I closed my eyes and tried to radiate that feeling, to demonstrate it for Salu.

In many ways, it was like when I’d first started learning to communicate with Yuki, when they were still just the uekisheile, and I’d had to bundle thoughts and feelings for them. Reunion-relief-home. That was what I was after, and I felt the bundle ripple through me, like a stone dropped into still water.

When I next looked, Salu’s ghost was staring, her mouth open.

"That’s what it was like,” I said.

“And I can have that?”

“Yes, but first tell me about the necklace. I mean, that place, that journey, is yours no matter what. I’d just like you to answer my question first, so that we can catch your killer.”

Salu appeared to gather her resolve, then said, “The necklace was meant to be a spousal gift for when the time came for me to marry. The chain was simple, but gold, and the pendant too; it was in the shape of a salu resting on a branch. They were the only precious things we owned.” The ghost moved closer. “Is that enough?”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s enough.”

So, Borba stole the necklace, likely because he’d needed money—for food, a place to stay, and... I didn’t know what else, but I knew he’d also need a place to pawn or sell it.

“Can I—what did you call it? Can I move on?” Salu asked.

“Yes,” I replied. The girl hadn’t noticed, but the process had already started. From behind her, a warm light glowed. “Did you have a good relationship with your mother?”

Salu’s brow furrowed. “What are you asking? Of course. She was kind, and gave me mashed corn and milk whenever I was hungry.”

“Then close your eyes and think of her,” I said. “Hold her in your heart.”

Salu did as I told her, and a moment passed, then two, until the faint outlines of a figure appeared. The spirit was hard to make out, but was clearly matronly. More than that, there was so much love pouring out of her, directed at Salu.

“Open your eyes and turn around,” I said.

Salu did, and she jumped up. “Mam—”

And then the ghost and the light were gone. Now it was just Teila and me standing in a narrow gap between buildings, the cold remains of a dead body between us.

A notification blinked in mind.

Spirit Arts increased from 9 to 10.

“Eight?” Teila asked carefully. “Is the ghost gone—did she find her mother?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling drained. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and we have a lead on where Borba will go next.”

16

A Dangerous City

The tension wound tight around Mumu as she listened to my report. All the hunters reacted, but Mumu was like a bowstring about to snap. Her voice was just as taut as she said, “Dura will report the girl’s death to the gate guards. My team will continue the hunt.”

“Will five be enough to fight Borba?” Dura asked.

Mumu visibly held back a retort. Instead she responded, “It will have to be.”

“But—” Dura began.

“He will be as exhausted as we are. We will continue, and you will do as you’re told.”

The hunters worriedly looked at each other, but did as their lodge master instructed. Dura’s team reluctantly left, while the rest of us gathered around Mumu. Truthfully, I probably should’ve joined the group reporting to the guards, since I’d been the one to find the body and confirm Borba’s qi signature, but there was no way I’d leave my team in its current condition.

A very worrisome condition, making me wonder if I should once again say something. Five was a dangerous number for tackling Borba, but Mumu was likely right about him being exhausted, and had already been proven right about him killing more people.

There is a balance between risk and preserving lives, one whose fulcrum escaped me. How should we know when to continue and when to stop? The fact that I was too tired to even think the question through should’ve probably been a sign.

“We have to move quickly,” Mumu said, then jogged back the way we’d come.

We had to follow her or else be left behind, so we circled the block to pick up Borba’s trail on the other side of the narrow alley where Salu had been murdered. There was an intersection of streets there, appearing to be nothing special, save for the scent of rusty-red qi winding through it.

Before I could mention it, though, Haol signaled for us to stop, and for the first time ever, I saw my team argue.

Haol and Tegen must’ve coordinated too, because they tag-teamed against Mumu. The two of them never directly questioned her judgement, but stressed the ever-increasing prospect of us all getting killed if the hunt continued as it was.

Mumu had grown up with Haol and Tegen. They’d known each other for a couple of decades before I’d come along, and their words registered where other’s might not have. There was a trust between the three of them that was astonishing in its depth. I saw it—I literally saw it—as spirit energy flowed between them in streams of silver-gold-gray.

While the adults argued, I felt Teila tense, like she was holding herself back from interjecting. Honestly, I was the same, but I also stayed out of the argument. Mumu already had a mulish expression on her face, and she’d only dig in more if it turned into a dogpile.

We were all stressed by the hunt for Borba and anxious to catch up to him, yet at the same time we were afraid of what would happen when we finally did. On top of that, we were also grieving, and all that stress, all that grief, and all that turmoil was coming out now. None of the hunters yelled—they didn’t speak above a whisper—but the painfully raw emotions were visible to anyone with eyes to see.

Haol and Tegen were in the middle of pausing and Mumu taking a breath, when a blow struck me in the chest, lifted me up, and threw me against the nearest wall. Alarm-pain-confusion spiked through my mind, and Yuki instantly spun up both Dog’s Agility and Iron Heart.

I’d been caught flat-footed, so it took a couple of precious seconds to understand what had happened. By then, I’d already started to slide down the wall into a heap—my body not responding like I needed it to.

The pain was incredible, and my breathing became thin and wheezy. There’d been a brief jolt of adrenaline, but then my blood pressure dropped, and everything started to feel distant… everything except the pain, yet that started to fade too. When I looked down, I saw that a crossbow bolt had punched through my armor and buried itself into my heart.

I could’ve easily panicked. Any reasonable person would’ve, yet there was clarity instead. Warmth as well—like a hot stone buried deep behind my heart radiating heat throughout my body. I’d never felt anything like it, not even when I’d almost died to the kalihchi bear.

My hands refused to move, so Healing Water was out of reach. I had to settle for casting Nature’s Spring. I looked up to see Tegen’s tall back guarding my body with his own. To the side, Haol dumped his water skin on my chest, and his cool healing energy flowed into me.

My consciousness stabilized, and I felt Yuki gathering around my heart. There was a sense of wrongness there—a black mist spreading from the quarrel’s head.

Their Dog’s Agility spell wasn’t doing me any good, so they let the spell lapse and cast Nature’s Spring in its stead so that the spell ran doubled. They also manifested tendrils around my heart, intending to create space around the quarrel, but the black mist burned, and they were forced to transform fully back into qi.

“Eight? Can you hear me?” Mumu’s face came into view. “We’re going to remove the bolt—hold on.”

She lifted my armor out of the way and cut my jacket for easier access to the wound. When she was done, she signaled for Haol to proceed. He used a knife to draw a line above and below the shaft, then he slipped a couple of fingers inside to maneuver the bolt free. Once it was out, Mumu immediately cast her Healing Water, dumping the entire contents of her water skin onto my chest.

I checked my Status, then saw that it hadn’t been enough.

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Exhaustion (1), Lethal Wound (*), Poisoned (*)

“More,” I croaked out.

“I’m out of mana,” Haol said.

“Same here.” Mumu began to infuse me with Nature’s Spring. “Tegen, switch with Haol. Teila, you help too.”

Tegen did as he was told and knelt beside me, while Teila crouched at my feet. Their fresh, green qi suddenly poured into me, adding on to spells from Mumu, Yuki, and myself. The black mist had been contained by the earlier spells, and this five-fold Nature’s Spring helped keep it at bay.

The Lethal and Poisoned conditions remained, but I was able to shakily grab my water skin and bring the Healing Water runes to mind. The spell washed over me until the skin was empty. A second later, Teila grabbed Tegen’s water skin, and put it in my hand.

I cast the spell again, and—finally—the Lethal Wound condition disappeared from my Status. I wasn’t in the clear though. Not yet.

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Poisoned (2*)

I felt queasy, and my chest ached terribly. Yuki?

‘The poison looks to be all physical. There’s nothing we can do without water for more healing spells.’

My breathing had evened out, so I was able to say, “The wound’s closed, but the bolt was poisoned. It’s still affecting me.”

“Haol, how do we stand?” Mumu asked.

“No threats in sight.”

“Eight, can you check with your spirit eyes to make sure?”

I tried to prop myself up, but my arms felt weaker than they should have. Mumu went to stand guard with Haol, so Tegen and Teila had to help. Once upright, I looked around, but I only saw the ghosts of the dead looking on with interest. Borba was nowhere around.

I’d been keeping an eye out for him, yet somehow he’d still managed to surprise me with this attack. My spirit eyes should’ve spotted him, even if he was Camouflaged. Unless he’s found a new way to hide?

“Nothing,” I said. “Just ghosts.”

“Are you sure?” Mumu didn’t turn to talk. She kept her eyes on the buildings around us. “No one’s in hiding?”

“Borba’s not here.” The aching steadily got worse. “We should go. I need water now.”

“It wasn’t Borba,” Mumu said. “He doesn’t know how to use a crossbow. This was someone else.”

My thoughts froze. That... that’s right. Borba had been a regular, everyday sort of hunter before turning dusk. The man had never held a crossbow in his life.

The attack had been an attempted assassination.

I fought the pain in my chest to look again, this time examining every spirit to make sure they were truly a ghost and not someone using Camouflage.

“It’s clear,” I said after I’d finished.

“Good,” Mumu said. “Haol, go.”

He took off running to the nearest door. There were a couple of wooden boards hanging from a rope beside it, which he clapped together to let the residents know someone was waiting outside their house. An old matron came to answer, short and thick like a dumpling.

I trusted Haol to get me the water I needed, so I focused internally on pushing Nature’s Spring to its limits. Yuki, Tegen, and Teila had continued casting the spell too, so my efforts were well-reinforced.

Not too long after, a group of men and women muscled a big basin out of the nearby door and carried it toward me. Then, they proceeded to slowly pour water on me. Gallons and gallons spilled out, and I spent all my mana along with it. And then, when that wasn’t enough, Yuki emptied out their mana tank too.

Fortunately, that did the trick, and the Poisoned condition finally cleared.

I signed to my team that I was healthy, and the tension running through each of them sagged.

Once it was clear that the water had served its purpose, the residents asked about what had happened. They were a lively bunch, talking loudly, and that caught the interest of the other people living nearby, which caused more people to come out into the street to hear the news.

I stayed sitting throughout. It’d been such an incredibly long and disturbing day, and I needed time to get my bearings. From being drugged and interrogated, to meeting Salu and Aslishtei, to almost getting killed again, I really needed to catch a break.

I had questions—so many questions—but I set them aside. I wanted nothing more than to zone out, commune in the comfort of Yuki, and contact my family. I also needed to check on Ikfael. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she hadn’t done anything while I’d been at the edge of death.

At least the wound looked completely healed, not even leaving a scar. I supposed a dozen casts of Healing Water would do that.

Damn, that poison was tenacious.

‘Like it was meant to resist healing spells,’ Yuki said.

Or at least our healing spells, I thought.

Any decent assassin would’ve done their research, right? Honestly, I would’ve been dead a couple of times over if I’d been on my own. Even Yuki and I combined likely wouldn’t have been enough.

Teila and Tegen stood in front to shield me from the crowd, while Mumu and Haol answered questions and offered profuse thanks for the help provided. I needed to express my own gratitude, but it was difficult working up the energy even to stand.

“Make way! Make way!” a voice called from down the street.

My first thought was that the land soldiers had arrived, but when the crowd parted and I peeked to look, I spotted a motley group of six fashionably dressed young men and women, none of them exactly steady on their feet.

“We heard there was a need for healers. Make way!”

The speaker was an imperious young man in his early twenties. He wore a green tunic over leggings trimmed with white fur. Both pieces looked like they’d come straight out of a 1980s shop window or catalog.

Makul the Journeyman Healer (Human)

Talents: Magic is as Magic Does, Secretly Studious, Ringleader

Having three talents was pretty good for someone his age, and Ringleader was right on the money, since it was obvious the others in Makul’s group were following his lead through the crowd. None of them had more than two talents, though, and those they did have leaned toward either medicine or magic—things like Partial to Anatomy, Natural Doula, Brushed by Mana, and Lover of Magic.

What was more incongruous was that fur-trimmed leggings were apparently a hot trend among young healers; they all wore them. One ambitious set was also fringed, like you’d find on cowboy wear. In my previous life, I hadn’t exactly been known for my fashion sense, but even I could tell you that it was hideous.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around how I was being approached by a bunch of aerobics instructors. Because that was what they looked like. No, I can’t let myself get distracted. These people were healers who just happened to be conveniently nearby—people who I might’ve owed my life to if they’d been faster to arrive.

“Well?” Makul asked, turning around in a circle to address the crowd. “Where is the patient? Bring them out.”

A few of the residents pointed in my direction, but Mumu stepped in the way. “Thank you, but the situation’s been resolved.”

“What? What’s that? But we were having such a wonderful party, and then one of you—” Makul peered at the people in the crowd, but no one seemed to look familiar. “Anyway, as I was saying, one of you called for our help. Said it was urgent and a matter of life and death.”

The residents shook their heads—none of them had gone to go get help. Most hadn’t even known anything was happening. They’d come outside because everyone else had.

“Some good person must’ve panicked,” Mumu said. Her voice was mild, but her hands were clenched. “And gone to get help when it wasn’t needed.”

At the same time, I saw how Haol kept a hand on his knife and Tegen stepped away from me to pick up his spear. Teila quietly helped me to stand, then she put me behind her.

So, it wasn’t just me who was suspicious of the healers’ sudden arrival.

That said, the spirits of the healers indicated nothing but drunken confusion, even Makul’s. From the way his chest kept puffing up, it looked like he just wanted an opportunity show off in front of his friends. The dominant feeling among them was of enjoying the attention being given to them. They were too far gone into their cups to notice or react to the hunters’ quiet hostility.

“There was no attack?” Makul asked, disappointed.

“Oh, there was,” Mumu said, her voice becoming pointed, “but we’ve dealt with it. The wound has already been healed.”

That got the healers’ wandering attention. Mumu’s words cut through the drunken haze, and each turned to focus on her. I sensed qi flowing through their bodies, and their eyes quickly cleared as the alcohol in their systems seemed to burn away.

They saw us then—really saw us—with our armor, our buckskins, and our spears.

Makul’s expression became more guarded. “You’re hunters.”

“That’s right,” Mumu said proudly. “From Voorhei.”

Makul reacted to our village’s name, but not the other healers. If anything, he became even harder to read, but at the outer edges of his spirit were sudden flashes of antagonism.

“The city can be dangerous; the hunters and trappers who visit aren’t always civilized. Which one of you was attacked? As a grace from the Healer’s Lodge, I’ll examine them to ensure they are truly unharmed—free of charge.” Makul cleared his throat, as if were lecturing the crowd. “Hedge magics aren’t always as effective as they’re claimed to be.”

Well, it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to spot me being guarded by the hunters. He started moving my way, yet Mumu blocked him.

“He’s under my care, and you’ll not touch him.”

None of the healers were drunk anymore, and while Makul stood his ground, the vehemence in Mumu’s voice caused the others to step back.

Mukul looked her up and down. “My understanding is that our lodges are engaged in some delicate negotiations. Surely we should do what we can to foster cooperation between them. After all, without cooperation, we’d be nothing more than savages. And without organization, we’d be prey to the wild beasts living outside the city’s walls.”

Mumu had been a mess for days now—her clouded spirit boiling with grief and pain—but in that moment, she stilled. The whole of her paused, and then the black clouds billowed like a bomb had suddenly gone off inside her core. A faint silver light shone between the gaps.

Mumu took a breath, and then another. She looked like she was waking from a dream, and said, “Another day, young healer. We'll cooperate on another day. For now, my hunters are badly in need of a good night’s rest.”

She brushed past Makul, ignoring his protests, and signed for us to follow. So we did, walking past him and the other healers. Before we left entirely, though, I stopped by the dumpling-shaped matron who’d provided the basin of water. I thanked her personally for her help, then palmed an eltaak into her hand. The matron smiled, and the coin vanished into a pouch at her waist.

As soon as we were out of sight of the crowd and the healers, Mumu had us move into our standard hunting formation, with her in the lead and Haol watching our backtrail. We also maintained trail discipline and didn’t talk except for a handful of signs to coordinate.

We hurried at first, but then slowed so that we could move more carefully through the city. With recent events as they were, I appreciated the opportunity to look out for hidden dangers. Even Yuki did their utmost to help, extending Camouflaged tendrils as far as they’d go to increase the range of their qi sense.

Honestly, the whole journey was a blur, but we eventually made our way to an inn at the boundary between Nathta and the Butchery. The building was three stories tall with stables to the side. The sign above the door featured a rack of antlers and read, the Ten Point.

I had barely had a chance to register the details of the building before Mumu picked me up into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry. I was a fool, risking the living for the dead.”

I sighed, and the worries I’d had for her melted. “Yes, yes you were.”

Mumu nodded and set me down, so that she could hug Haol and Tegen in turn. She whispered apologies to them too, but I couldn’t quite hear because of Teila glomming onto me.

“You have to stop doing that,” she said, tears in her eyes. “This is twice you’ve almost died.”

“Believe me, it’s not anything I’m doing intentionally. And it’s more like my fourth or fifth time.”

Teila pulled away enough to turn me around to look me in the face. “What?”

“It’s a long story, but come on, I’ll tell you inside. No, tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow. I can barely keep my eyes open right now.”

But Teila didn’t want to let go, and it took Mumu lifting her up to break the hug.

Inside, Susu’s team waited for us, and they spoke about sleeping arrangements, which fortunately already included teams sharing rooms and hunters standing guard. They’d been worried about Borba attacking in the middle of the night. Now, they also had to worry about assassins.

Upstairs, in my team’s room, Tegen volunteered to take first watch. I dimly noted that the bed was a futon, the blankets were wool, and then I was out.

I started to dream of being strapped to the front of a roller coaster carriage. The land around the ride was hazy and indistinct, but the tracks ahead twisted in what would surely be a stomach-churning jumble. Monsters lined the path too, their sharp claws ready to cut me the second I passed by.

Behind me, I heard Sondo’s voice. “What have you done now, Ollie? I heard you got into a fight with the other boys again. That’s the third time this year, so I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice but suspension—”

A pink fairy flew into view, carrying a hunting knife that was much too big for them. “No. No. No. No nightmares. Not tonight.” They used the knife to cut through the leather belts tying me to the carriage, and once I was free, the roller coaster faded from view.

It was replaced by a hot, sunny Oregon summer day. I was at the fair, and my kids—my first kids, Alex and Daniel—were running nearby. I had a half-eaten funnel cake in one hand, and Helen’s hand in the other. Yuki flew around us both in a lazy circle, enjoying the view and the feeling of contentment suffusing the scene.

Helen smiled to see me looking at her, and she reached over to wipe powdered sugar from my chin.

When I kept looking at her, she asked, “What? Do I have some on me too?”

I shook my head. “I’ve just missed you.”

Alex and Daniel ran to me and grabbed onto my legs. “What about us? Did you miss us too?”

“Of course!” I handed off the remaining funnel cake to Yuki, then picked them both up to spin them around. “I’ve missed you the most!”

They laughed, I laughed, and Helen and Yuki did too. Then, later, we went on some rides, gentle ones, nothing that spun. We also ate corn dogs with mustard—that was a fair tradition in our family.

And because it was a dream, the sun never set. Eventually, though, it did rise, and I felt my body being shaken awake. I held my family close one last time, giving them each a hug before I let myself rouse.

“Thank you, Yuki,” I whispered as the fairgrounds faded.

“Thank you, Ollie/Eight,” they whispered back.

We each took comfort in knowing we’d be facing the next day together.

17

The Realization of Mistakes Made

I woke up expecting to see the sunrise; instead, the room was pitch black, and the snores of exhausted hunters were all around me. Even Tegen, who was supposed to be keeping watch, was slumped over asleep at the door. My Status clock said that it was only eleven in the evening.

Yuki?

‘Ikfael is here.’

I must’ve been out of it, because it took that long for me to realize that she’d been tugging on my hand. I cracked open my spirit eyes and saw her glowing faintly in the dark. That sent a thrill of alarm through me—Ikfael’s spirit was dim and patchy.

I sat up in a hurry, and when my hand pulled out of Ikfael’s hold, a piece of jerky fell from it. I even cast Night Eyes to make sure, but it was exactly what it looked like.

The jerky must've come from my pack, which was nearby, the flap open and Ikfael’s statue on the ground beside it. Did she take the jerky and put it in my hand?

The otter seemed diminished—not in size but in presence. Her shoulders were hunched, and her fur bedraggled.

She signed, “Good, you’re awake. Give me the food.”

Confused, I did as she asked, and the moment the jerky passed from my hand to her paw, Ikfael’s spirit rippled, growing a touch brighter. Under normal circumstances, such a small change would’ve been unnoticeable, but with how dim her spirit was—

A sudden realization rolled through me, followed by dismay. Yuki felt it too, the feeling echoing between us. So much had happened that we’d both forgotten we were supposed to make her dinner each night; it was part of our arrangement for this trip. And clearly it wasn’t just a meal at stake. The exchanges she made had a real, material impact on her wellbeing.

I mean, I wasn’t dense—I’d recognized early in my relationship with Ikfael that trades were important. Why else did she value them so much? I just hadn’t expected a single dinner to affect her to this degree. Unless... unless it wasn’t dinner? After all, the day wasn’t over, and there was still time to honor our deal.

I fought to think through the grogginess, and recalled the heat I’d felt after I’d been shot. It had radiated from behind my heart, almost as if it had come from my back—

“Oh, Ikfael,” I whispered. “You saved me, didn’t you?”

She glared at me. “I’ll have none of your pity. What I do, I do for myself.”

“It wasn’t part of our deal, and it cost you somehow. I can see the impact on your spirit.”

Ikfael turned away, refusing to look at me.

“Can you talk about it? Explain how the exchanges work? Maybe Yuki and I can help.”

She still didn’t say anything.

“What if I gave you a gift? Asking nothing in return.”

In response, Ikfael clenched her paws. She guarded her spirit, so that her feelings wouldn’t leak out.

She’d been excited in the past when I’d given her gifts. Usually, it was just extra food beyond what she was owed, but there’d been that one time when she’d arranged for me to learn the Healing Water spell without cost. The whole process had felt like one big workaround and hadn’t sat well with me, so I’d given her a bunch of stuff anyway.

She’d been so pleased, she’d even showed off the gifts to Diriktot, who she’d been hanging out with at the time.

‘Ikfael deserves the world,’ Yuki said. ‘She’s been so good to us.’

Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?

So, I removed my favorite knife from my belt—yes, I slept with it—and put it at her feet. I removed all the rest of my knives and put them on the ground too. They were prizes I’d won from my enemies, zombies and parasitic worms, and each represented something meaningful to me.

That still didn’t feel like enough, however, so I carefully got up so as to not disturb the others and went to retrieve my bow. I put that at her feet too.

“I—” I started, searching for a way to articulate how grateful I felt, but she placed her paws on my hands to stop me.

“Foolish boy. A hunter never gives up all their weapons. Why save your life if you’re just going to throw it away? That won’t do.” She pushed the stilettos back towards me. “These are irreplaceable; hold on to them.” Then she returned my bow as well. “This one is closer to your heart than you realize. Don’t be so quick to gift it away.” The rest of the knives, though—the ones I got from the zombies—those, she picked up and put in her pocket. “These are easy to enough to replace, and heavens know you have the money for it.”

Her spirit had perked up a bit when she’d taken the knives, but it was still dangerously dim.

“Yes, I can do that, and I bring you more things too—”

Ikfael grabbed my hands again. She let go to sign, “Things are more complicated than you think. Spirits are—” She stopped partway, though, as if unable to continue. Then she smiled, her eyes asking me to understand that she couldn’t explain.

Was there some rule or law in place to govern how spirits interacted with people—something like Tenna’s Gift? Which would make sense, given the potential for danger and/or abuse in the relationships between people and spirits.

I’ll have to ponder this some more, I thought.

‘We can also ask the others about it,’ Yuki said.

That’s right. People will have investigated something as important as this. In the meantime…

“Can I make you something to eat?” I asked Ikfael.

She glanced at the sleeping hunters around us, and lifted a wry eyebrow at me.

“There must be a kitchen somewhere we can borrow,” I said, making my way over to the door.

Moving Tegen out of the way proved to be challenge, but given time and his deep exhaustion, I was eventually able to do it. I was beat too, but there were things a man didn’t skimp on, and taking care of his family was one of them.

A pair of hunters stood guard outside our door, but long story short, I was able to make Ikfael her dinner. We were nearly caught by the inn’s staff, and the meal itself was simple, but I got it done.

The next morning, my teammates who were supposed to have traded watches during the night were embarrassed for having fallen asleep instead. Tegen, in particular—the poor man. I didn’t know his face could burn that bright a red. Fortunately, Ikfael and Yuki had been there to take on the responsibility, and everyone had been able to get a solid night’s rest.

They all looked haggard from the previous days’ exertions, but there was a life in their eyes that had been muted before. Their spirits were more settled too. Not good or easy, mind you, but the grief-soaked hunger for revenge seemed to have diminished. Watching Mumu, it occurred to me that the previous night might very well have been the first sleep she’d gotten since Inleio’s death.

Mulallamu the Lodge Master (Human)

Talents: Scout-Born, Tracker, Wild Sense

Nascent: Money Lover, Hunters’ Shield

And she’d had a breakthrough during her showdown with Makul, picking up a new nascent talent: Hunters’ Shield. First Teila and now Mumu—as difficult as this journey had been, it’s been a productive one for my team.

Our gear, unfortunately, hadn’t weathered the trip well, and it took about an hour to clean and tend to it. My poor mail would need to be repaired again. At least the hole was much smaller this time compared to the one made by the kalihchi bear.

By silent agreement, no one spoke of the assassination attempt. That would come later when all of Voorhei’s hunters gathered for a briefing. Instead, I used the time to grill my team about spirits of the land.

I learned the following:

- As might be obvious from the name, spirits of the land tended to be tied to geographical features, and their territories grew when they increased in power.

- There were spirits with and without avatars. Mumu thought it was because some started as ghosts—they wanted to remember the feeling of having a body—but Tegen cautioned that the idea was unproven.

- Almost everything about spirits was, in fact, unproven. Mostly because the spirits themselves weren’t allowed to talk about their natures, not even to say what divine gifts or laws constrained them.

- And there were constraints—the big one being that favors had to be exchanged. Yes, people frequently gave gifts, and those seemed to help spirits grow, but there were almost no stories of spirits offering anything unreciprocated.

- Which was immediately disputed by both Teila and Haol, who regaled me with multiple tragic stories about spirits and people falling in love, almost all of them ending in one or the other—sometimes both—sacrificing themselves for the other.

- I mentioned meeting Moonlight, the wolf who was the Beloved of Leiluminwei, a spirit with a territory near the Glen, but the hunters had all shrugged in response, not knowing anything about what it meant or how it happened.

- Spirits grew naturally over time as they cared for their territories. They could also absorb silver and darklight to speed up the process.

- Woe to any hunters entering a dark spirit’s territory. The land itself conspired against them.

- Another danger was when spirits fought over territory, and when that happened, any people or animals in the area suffered.

- Fortunately, it was more common for spirits to settle into hierarchies, wherein greater spirits ruled a territory while delegating sections to the smaller spirits under them.

- Finally, there were spirits of the sea and air, as well as the land, and the rules—mysterious as they were—appeared to apply to all of them equally.

By the time we were done, Mumu’s impatience had started getting the better of her. She’d forced herself to wait—to let her team take care of themselves and their gear—but the sun was steadily rising, and there was still the briefing with the rest of Voorhei’s hunters.

Her spirit might’ve been more settled, but her desire to catch Borba hadn’t diminished. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore, and sent Teila and me to check on the others to see if they were ready.

The second floor had a couple of big common rooms used for cheap accommodations. For a single taak, someone could lay out a bedroll alongside anyone else willing to pay. The only caveat was that they had to be out of the space shortly after dawn, so that the room could then become available to rent during the day.

Mumu shelled out the money for one of these big rooms, which was why our meeting was accompanied by the funk of unwashed bodies, wet leather, and old farts. Still, it was a small price to be able to talk in private.

After Mumu had briefed the other hunters more fully about the assassination attempt and I’d contributed my observations about the healers, she began a mea culpa.

“My brothers and sisters,” she said. “I’ve been wrong. You all know me, and understand that this isn’t an easy thing to admit, but I say it to you now: in my sorrow and anger, I made decisions which I regret.”

“Those damn cutter hawks,” Susu said.

“Yes,” Mumu replied. “I didn’t expect you to fight them. I thought you would go around and continue following.”

“We might have,” Dura said, “except for Teila’s plan.”

“I underestimated you, all of you.” Mumu paused to look every hunter in the eyes. As she did, her spirit rippled with glimmers of the silver I’d seen the previous night. “I promise not to do so again.”

“You won’t run off on your own anymore?” Susu asked.

Mumu’s brow furrowed. “I can’t promise that. The decision to split the teams wasn’t wrong, but continuing to chase Borba once it was clear that three hunters weren’t enough to kill him—that was a mistake. As was driving Haol, Tegen, and myself to exhaustion.”

I watched as Mumu felt her way, looking for the right words. “There are times when we fight half-broken, but this did not need to be one of them.”

“The Long Dark,” Ahlrein muttered behind me, and the hunters all nodded along.

“So what happens now?” Dura asked.

“We continue our hunt for vengeance,” Mumu said, her voice grim. “But we do it the hunter’s way—together.”

After that, we dove straight into strategizing. And eating. Breakfast was apparently included in the big room’s rental fee, and the Ten Point’s staff carried in a big pot of corn porridge, along with trays of grilled vegetables and pork.

The longer we waited, the more difficult tracking Borba would be, but Mumu seemed determined to make up for her earlier mistakes. She gave the hunters time to eat, while also involving them in the strategizing.

“Why did the assassin call the healers?” she asked the room. “That’s the question that bothers me most.”

“What did they have to lose by doing so?” Tegen responded. “If Eight died, they benefited. If his life was saved, he would owe them his gratitude. There was no loss either way.”

Okay, I got that, but the choice of healers seemed odd to me. “In that case, shouldn’t the assassin have used a more competent bunch to come save me? The ones who showed up were useless.”

“Not useless,” Haol said. “They were all journeymen and women, I saw the badges.”

“Drunk, then,” I said, “and clueless about the attack.”

Haol nodded, conceding the point.

“That was likely to protect their lodge,” Dura said, tapping his chin. “If questioned, they’d be innocent.”

“Or it might be one healers’ faction setting up another,” Mumu said.

“There are factions within the Healer’s Lodge?” I asked around a mouthful of the vegetables.

“There are factions in every lodge,” Mumu replied.

“Not ours,” I protested. “We argue sometimes, but that's different.”

The mood in the room was a hard one, bloody-minded, but that didn’t stop the hunters from chuckling in response. Even Mumu smiled briefly.

“Our Inleio was very good at helping people find ways to get along,” she said.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Susu said. “He had a knack for knowing when trouble was brewing and arranging training sessions for everyone involved.” She shook her head at the memory. “Training was what he called it, but it was just him knocking sense into m—into people. Other people, you know, troublemakers. Not me.”

I saw more than a few embarrassed smiles, and Mumu waited for the moment to fade before continuing. “It was impossible for us not to be suspicious of the healers’ arrival. The assassin must’ve known that, which is what makes me think the attack was one faction of healers setting up another. But we don’t know enough about the inner workings of their lodge to know who was responsible. We’ll need the hunters’ grandmaster for that.”

Haol added, “If that’s the case, then this faction attempted to kill two birds with one arrow: to hurt their competition and rid themselves of a thorn in their lodge’s side, our Eight.”

“But the damage has already been done,” Susu said. “Eight’s spells are within the Hunter’s Lodge.”

“The spells I have now,” I said, “but what about the ones in the future? Because there’s no way I’m going to give up looking for more. Magic’s much too precious. It’d be like cutting off my own hands.”

“Our Eight is talented, and his path is a bold one,” Mumu said.

Several of the hunters reached over to pat me on the back, and I felt heartened at their support. The previous day’s events had left me feeling uneasy. There were people who wanted to kill me. Sure, that was something I’d expect from the forest’s predators and unstable people like Ghitha and Borba, but from faceless strangers I’d never met? It was an unsettling thought for someone who’d once been an office manager and sometimes-producer of documentary films.

I was also pissed, which was reasonable, you know? Someone wanted me dead, and they’d taken the necessary steps to make it happen. “The assassin used a poison resistant to healing spells,” I said. “In other words, they knew me well enough to counter my abilities. Whatever else is going on in the Healer’s Lodge, killing me wasn’t some bonus objective—it’d been a critical part of the assassin’s mission.”

After that, the hunters talked among themselves for a while, discussing the situation and coming up with ideas to address it. I immediately squashed the ones involving me going back to Voorhei or staying cooped up at the inn. Several hunters pressed for it, but I refused to budge.

They were clearly worried for me, but frankly, they needed my spirit eyes and Uncanny Tracker talent, and I needed to address the situation directly. If that meant facing assassins, then so be it. Otherwise, I worried the fear would get to me, that it’d become easier to justify running away in the future. And that didn’t seem to be something this world would just let you do. Even the Glen was dangerous on occasions, and that didn’t account for the Long Dark, which everyone kept talking about.

No, I couldn’t run every time things became dangerous. Success would come from adapting to danger, to finding ways to ameliorate and overcome it. Like trading the magic knife to Ikfael. Like becoming dear friends with Yuki. Like going to Voorhei and joining the Hunter’s Lodge.

This world demanded engagement, and the Way of the Hunter required me to test myself against it. Again and again and again. This was a world of striving, after all.

Before the attempt on my life, I’d never really thought of myself as being on a path. Sure, I’d considered myself a spiritual seeker in my previous life, but path with a capital P? That had always seemed pretentious to me—a sign of someone who took themselves too seriously. Now, though, I was on the Path of the Young Forester, and I had the Way of the Hunter as a soul mark. They weren’t just words on my Status.

Ultimately, we decided that Susu’s team should report the assassination attempt to the grandmaster at the Hunter’s Lodge and coordinate with her as necessary. While that was happening, Dura’s team would head to the Nathta and Geista districts to search for places where Borba might try to sell or pawn Salu’s necklace. And my team’s job would be to pick up Borba’s trail directly, if possible. We’d had better luck doing so the previous night than I’d expected.

One thing I made fundamentally clear to everyone: no matter what else happened that day or any other day during the hunt—I absolutely required time to attend to Ikfael in the evenings. Even if it was just an hour, half an hour, whatever. Nothing could interfere with my obligations to our spirit of the land.

Oh, and we’d do all of the above while watching out for assassins.

Albei, you sure gave us one hell of a welcome.

18

An Unfair World

The morning was chilly and damp, with heavy clouds moving quickly across the sky. It wasn’t raining, but the cobbled street in front of the inn was wet from an earlier shower. The city’s residents seemed to think it’d likely rain again—they walked past the inn wearing cloaks, and their carts were covered in oiled cloth.

From the second floor, I watched as Dura’s and Susu’s teams headed out in opposite directions. My team was still inside, looking out from the meeting room’s windows. One opened onto the main thoroughfare in front and another connected to an alley.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s following either team,” I said.

“What about people hiding?” Mumu asked.

“Nothing,” I said after checking both views.

The members of my team also looked, and we all agreed that the coast seemed to be clear, so we cast our Camouflage spells and headed out the alley window. The idea had been Susu’s, and she’d promised it’d be an easy climb—apparently speaking from experience. Luckily, she was right. There were plenty of handholds on the way down, and my team gathered in the alley afterward.

From there, we quickly moved deeper in; back behind the inn; past the next building, which was some kind of mercantile selling furs; carefully across the street so that we didn’t bump into anyone; and into the next alley.

We held there for a couple of minutes to check our backtrail. I let my spirit eyes roam, but didn’t spot anyone in hiding—not on the street and not on the rooftops.

“Eight?” Mumu asked.

“Looks clear.”

“All right, as we planned, then. Everyone drops their spells, except for Teila and Eight. We’ll go down this alley until we reach the next street. From there, Tegen will walk out first, followed by Teila and Eight, and then Haol and me after, arm-in-arm.”

We weren’t planning to split the team. No, we’d still travel as a group for safety’s sake, but the idea was to not be obvious about it. Any assassins sent by the Healer’s Lodge would be looking for a team of five hunters, right? So, we’d foil them by breaking up our profile.

Teila could maintain a near-indefinite Camouflage thanks to her Wood-Wise talent, so she’d stay out of sight the whole time. As for me, I could keep the spell running for about forty minutes with Yuki’s help, but I didn’t want to empty myself of qi, just in case we ended up fighting later. The plan was for me to pop out of hiding once we’d put some distance between us and the inn.

Teila and I signaled we were ready, and the three adults became visible again. Haol immediately wrapped an arm around Mumu’s waist, while Tegen set off briskly like a man with someplace to be. Teila and I followed him under cover of our spells, after which the “couple” then began their stroll.

The alley provided a good opportunity to practice our roles, especially when a young boy stepped out into the alley from one of the adjacent buildings. He barely glanced at Tegen, more concerned with dumping the contents of a chamber pot down a grate. Mumu and Haol did get a second look from him, but the boy dismissed them easily enough.

The alley crooked, and the next street came into view. Tegen was already stepping out, which caused Teila and me to rush to keep up. The street was busy with people, so we held hands so as to not lose each other in the crowd. Between the two of us and Yuki, we had enough eyes to keep out of people’s way too.

The strategy wasn’t one we’d ever practiced before. The only person on the team who’d had any sense of what it should look like was me, and that was only from the heist and spy movies I’d seen in my previous life. It was no surprise, then, that we messed up a few times—things like Tegen outpacing Mumu and Haol.

Fortunately, the merchants and artisans in the area were in the process of opening their stores. The boards in front of their shops came down, and the merchants set out their wares to be displayed. That gave Tegen the chance to recover whenever he realized he was going too fast. He’d pause to look at what was offered, before starting to walk again.

To be honest, his behavior was sketchy enough that the shopkeepers kept wary eyes on him, completely ignoring Mumu and Haol when it was their time to pass by. Well, the couple wasn’t exactly convincing either. They were affectionate, sure, but with all their weapons and gear, they didn’t exactly look like they were on a date.

The behavior of all three hunters was weird, which turned out to be just fine. The city was visited by all sorts of people, and weirdness was apparently the norm.

The tension was thick between Teila and me as we watched our team in action. We gripped each other's hands tightly and held our breaths, but they somehow managed to avoid trouble.

And then Tegen almost got into a fight.

It was so stupid and so classic: a rando with a sword at his side bumped into him and demanded an apology, which Tegen promptly provided, being the sensible fellow he was. Then, sword-rando demanded monetary compensation, at which point Tegen lost all patience, cast Bear’s Strength, and grabbed the rando by the throat.

Words were whispered—very intense words if Tegen’s expression was any indicator—to which the rando suddenly and repeatedly nodded. Then the rando was let go to stumble away, and Tegen went back to briskly walking.

I heard Teila gasp, and a thrill of alarm ran through me, yet no one on the street took notice of the scuffle. People walked by uninterested, and the merchants continued to hawk their wares.

It occurred to me then that Tegen had reacted appropriately. If he’d let himself be humiliated, then he’d have drawn more attention—people would’ve stopped what they were doing to watch the show.

Being sneaky didn’t always mean being sneaky. The important thing was to match the surroundings. Sometimes that meant being Camouflaged or hiding in the shadows; however, there were also times when you had to stand out, but only just enough to not stand out. Maybe that was an obvious insight, but it clicked for me in a new way.

Stealth increased from 10 to 11.

I acknowledged the notification while pulling Teila along to get us moving again. We continued following Tegen, and nothing else eventful happened as the team navigated Albei’s Nathta district.

Eventually, the steady drain of the Camouflage spell emptied Yuki’s and my qi tanks by about half, so I gave Teila’s hand a squeeze to signal that I was dropping out. Then, I ran ahead to the nearest alley, and when it seemed that no one was looking, I let my Camouflage drop, ran back out toward Tegen, and held onto his hand like he was my uncle and the two of us were out on an errand.

I smiled at him—pretending to be a happy, innocent child—and under my breath whispered, “What’d you say to that guy?”

Tegen smiled sweetly, and whispered back, “That I’d tear out his throat if he didn’t walk away right then.”

I chuckled, and swung my free arm like a little kid. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mumu and Haol keeping pace, and the rest of the street was clear of anyone in hiding besides Teila. At the rate we were going, we’d soon be back to where I’d last sensed Borba’s trail.

The place where I’d been shot was an intersection of three small streets forming a skewed Y. Wooden three- and four-story buildings rose on all sides, and the first floors were given over to artisan workshops with either blankets, clothing, or baskets on display, while the upper floors appeared to be residences.

My team had hung back while I’d scouted ahead under cover of Camouflage and found a good hiding spot under a shop’s outdoor table. Above me were baskets woven with sun and sea motifs, and the imagery carried over to the table’s surface underneath.

It wasn’t a great feeling being here, and I felt my mouth suddenly go dry as I spotted Aslishtei, her foot tapping as she waited. A little red songbird sat on her shoulder, and the two of them drew looks from the passersby. The people gave her plenty of room as they walked past; no one seemed willing to risk accidentally bumping into her.

Also, there were—I counted—three different people in hiding on the nearby rooftops. My first thought was that they were some kind of protection detail, but the longer I looked, the more it became clear they weren’t coordinated. There were none of the bits of spirit being exchanged like I saw between team members.

I supposed they could’ve been an ad-hoc team assembled in a hurry, but the odds of that didn’t seem high. And speculating was useless, when I had concrete ways to gather more information.

Come on, Ollie, get it together. Focus.

Going around clockwise, I used my Status camera.

Hutwa the Solemn (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Anatomic Precision, Knows Where to Cut, Uncanny Insight

Krees Bladesdaughter (Human)

Talents: Natural Knife Fighter, Willful, Reluctant Scout

Nokla the Idle (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Natural Archer, Regenerative Sleep, Eyes of the Hunter

Damn, it really looks like we kicked the beehive, doesn’t it?

Yuki’s qi blipped in agreement, then they merged us together so that we could quickly share what our eyes had seen through the Status camera, before we separated once again. They said, ‘Hutwa looks like he’s from the Healer’s Lodge.’

With those talents? Definitely. And Nokla is from the Hunter’s Lodge. Probably. Maybe?

‘We recognize Krees from Sonda’s entourage,’ Yuki said.

That’s right, she was one of his scouts, I replied.

I bit my lip and considered my options. Of course, I’d head back to alert my team to what I’d found, but what should I recommend we do? We needed access to the area to follow Borba’s trail. Or should we give up on it and hope Dura uncovers a lead at one of the pawn shops?

‘The bird,’ Yuki said.

Hmm? I let the uekisheile focus my attention, and noticed how the songbird kept an eye on the surroundings. When I’d been interrogated by Aslishtei, there’d been a blue songbird with iridescent feathers, ostensibly part of the spell to force the truth out of me. Was the red one some kind of alarm?

I had the qi to spare, so I lingered and eventually noticed Aslishtei glance toward where the people surveilling the intersection were hidden—and toward me too, but only fleetingly.

She knows we’re here, I thought.

Yuki did the qi equivalent of a nod. ‘But she’s not calling to us.’

Or sending us away.

‘Is she letting us decide what to do?’ Yuki asked.

Us or Mumu, I said. She’d know that with me here, Mumu and the others will be close by.

‘Are we going to be bait again?’ Yuki wondered.

That’s not my first choice, I said, rubbing at where the crossbow bolt had pierced my chest. But if we’re with Aslishtei, it might be okay. Her rank among the land soldiers is high, so I doubt anyone would cause trouble with her around.

‘We don’t know that,’ Yuki pointed out.

No, but Mumu might. Let’s report in.

I eased my way out from under my hiding spot and crept back toward the alley where my team waited. What I found was Tegen casually leaning against a wall at the exit while keeping watch. Teila crouched beside him, still Camouflaged. She was also watching the area, but kept glancing back, deeper into the alley, to where Mumu and Haol were pretending to make out. Mostly pretending, anyway—the two were engaged, after all.

All it took was a soft whistle for the lip lock to end and the hunters to return to all-business.

“We should pass this area by,” Tegen said. “If one of the hidden watchers is truly from the Healer’s Lodge, then it makes the situation too dangerous. There’s also a good chance the trail is cold, even to our Eight’s keen senses.”

“I disagree,” Haol said.

“It’s been hours,” Tegen said, “and it rained overnight.”

“The talent is Uncanny,” Haol protested. “There’s always going to be a chance it might work.”

Mumu listened to the two of them argue, but I saw from her spirit how her need to chase after Borba warred with her commitment to protect her hunters.

“That’s enough,” she said, coming to a decision. “Haol, Tegen, and I will go see what Aslishtei wants. Then, when I signal, Teila will join us while still Camouflaged, and Eight will observe what the healers’ hidden watcher does.”

Wait, what? Camouflage wasn’t perfect; Hutwa would likely notice someone approaching under the spell’s effects—a child-sized blur in Teila’s case—and he’d assume it to be me.

In other words, Mumu intended Teila to be the bait this time. The other hunters stilled when they came to the same realization.

“If anyone looks like they will attack,” Mumu said, continuing, “then Eight will signal a warning, and Teila will dive for cover under Tegen.”

Hold on. Under—

Tegen let out a long breath before saying, “Yes, of course.”

Mumu clasped his shoulder. “Her wellbeing is in your sturdy care, my friend.”

He nodded in response, but I had a hard time catching up to what they were saying, hung up on how she was asking him to become a pin cushion to protect Teila. And by extension, to protect me.

“No, no, no,” I said. “There has to be another way.”

“Be easy,” Tegen said. “This has always been my place on our team.”

“And hopefully it won’t be necessary,” Mumu added. “Aslishtei is supposed to be well regarded by Knight Ithia. The healers will invite the land knight’s wrath if they act presumptuously.”

“So you’re gambling,” I said.

“Every hunt is a gamble,” Mumu replied.

“But we do our best to tilt the odds in our favor,” I replied. “That doesn’t seem to be the case this time.”

“Then what would you have us do?”

“I’ll go out there—” I started, but Mumu cut me off with a gesture.

“No.”

“Then what about sneaking up onto the rooftop to take him out?” I suggested. “It should be safe to leave the watchers from the Hunter’s Lodge and the land soldiers untouched.”

“We’d be escalating the conflict with the healers,” Mumu said.

“They tried to have me killed,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“Yes, but we don’t know if this hidden observer is connected to the assassin. Should we attack him without knowing his allegiance?”

“It’s all right,” Teila said. She’d come closer to whisper to me, and I felt her breath tickle against my ear. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Eight, but Mumu is right. I protect you, and Tegen protects me. That’s the way of things.”

“And if Tegen gets hurt,” Haol said, “both Mumu and I will be there to heal him. Right?”

“Yes,” Mumu said. “We watch out for each other.”

“But some of us get more watched after than others,” I said. “That’s unfair.”

“It is fair.” Mumu leaned back against the wall, and looked out onto the street at the people passing by. “Let me ask you a question, Little Pot. When the Long Dark comes this winter, who will save more lives, you or Tegen?”

“Well, that’s not really—”

“What about the year after? Or in five years from now? Ten?”

I hesitated. The answer was obvious, but I didn’t like it. A man’s worth shouldn’t be measured by his talents. To think otherwise rubbed me the wrong way, and yet I couldn’t say that Mumu was wrong.

Yuki?

‘We… don’t know either.’

I took a breath, held it, and let it go. I’d done a lot to survive this world—pushed myself, stood back up every time it had knocked me down, and faced the challenges it had thrown at me. At the same time, I’d also sought joy in friends, family, and yes, even in some of the challenges too. Yet even with all that, there were times when I really hated Diaksha.

“No.”

“Eight?” Mumu asked.

“I’m not doing it,” I said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Borba’s trail—” she began, but I talked over her.

“I am not sending a child into danger meant for me. Not now, not ever.”

“Who’s a child?” Teila whispered angrily. “You are!”

“That’s right. Both of us are children, and adults too. But talents make life unfair, so I’m going to take advantage of that unfairness and get my way. I’m the one with the spirit eyes; I’m the one with Uncanny Tracker; you can’t follow Borba’s trail without me.”

Mumu put her hand on my arm, drawing my attention back to her. “People will die.”

“Then let them die,” I said, practically growling.

Mumu’s eyes widened in shock.

“If they do, it’ll be because of Borba. It’ll be unfortunate, but he’ll be the one responsible. However, if we go into that intersection, and a fight starts... if one of you dies out there, then it’s on us.” I shook off Mumu’s hand and instead placed mine on her shoulder. I stared her dead in the eyes and said, “It’ll be on you.”

“A lodge master needs to make decisions,” Mumu said, her expression dark. “To be practical, and this is what Inleio would’ve done if he were here. He—”

“He’s dead,” I said, “so he’s not here to make the decisions. You are.”

Her spirit stormed as I spoke. Oh, she was angry as piss, and by god she wasn’t the only one. Still, she was doing her best to stay calm and listen, just as I was doing my best to keep my voice down.

‘We don’t like this,’ Yuki said. ‘It doesn’t feel good.’

No, it doesn’t, I thought, but it’s what Mumu needs.

‘We understand, but it still—'

—sucks.

‘Yes. It sucks terribly.’

I’d decided though—I’d refuse to go along with her plan no matter what. Mumu was my best friend. There’d be no way that I’d let her do something so foolish, even if it hurt our relationship. It was just our team here, so I could get away with it. If the other hunters had been present, I don't know what I would've done. My goal was to get her to see sense, not to undercut her authority.

While Mumu struggled to find a way to convince me to follow her plan, Haol stepped forward. “We'll be leaving a potential enemy on our backtrail,” he said.

I nodded. That’d normally be true, but— “He won’t leave the area, because Aslishtei is here.”

“Ah, because he thinks she knows something,” Tegen said.

“That’s right. Or that we have an appointment.” I shrugged. “Either way, with Aslishtei there, he’s tied up.”

“But it would be rude,” Tegen said, “to know that she is waiting for us and not meet her.”

I opened my mouth, but it was my turn to be at a loss for words. Like, why would I give a flying fart’s worth of a damn what Aslishtei thought after what she and Sondo had done? Which was a shame, really, because she had such interesting magic spells.

Some of my thoughts must’ve leaked onto my face, because Tegen shook his head at me. “You should care what she thinks, Little Pot. Aslishtei has a great deal of influence. The land knight brings her along whenever she tours the villages.”

“All right, I care. I care what she thinks, but it won’t stop me. Needs must push us onward. Isn’t that what you said, Mumu? Well, my need to protect you all is pushing me onward, so you’re either following me or staying behind, because I’m not waiting any longer.”

And with that, I left my team open-mouthed and started walking deeper into the alley. From the way the streets were laid out, I figured there should be a way to bypass the intersection where I’d been shot.

After a couple of seconds, I heard the telltale patter of Teila’s footsteps running after me. And then a moment after that, Tegen’s. Mumu and Haol took longer to decide—it was a full minute—but eventually they followed too, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

I walked amid an angry silence, but better that than grief for a friend’s death.

19

Crunei’s Garden

Tegen had a complicated expression on his face when he took my hand. “Nephew,” he said.

The sound of street noise grew louder from up ahead; we’d soon be among people and have to pretend to be related again. I squeezed his hand to let him know I understood. Teila was just behind us, while Mumu and Haol trailed after her, their faces stormy.

They didn’t look like a couple on a date anymore. Instead, they were two hunters who’d been cheated by a merchant maybe? It didn’t matter exactly what their story was, as long as it didn’t appear to involve chasing Borba or fighting the Healer’s Lodge.

Before we reached the street, though, two people ducked into our alley. I tensed, but they blew past without a second look. They were soon followed by a small group of hunters also using the alley. None of them were familiar, although they nodded as they passed, and Tegen nodded back.

“Know them?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Just being polite.”

Exiting the alley was like stepping into a world of bustling motion, color, and sound. I had had no idea we were so close to the Albeitsoot. Three super-wide flatbeds, like the kind you might see attached to a train, were being pulled by teams of oxen. They were surrounded by a mix of hunters and soldiers on foot—somewhere between two to three dozen people—and the caravan filled the street so that all other traffic was pushed out to the edges. People and their carts jostled each other as they streamed past.

As Tegen and I paused to take in the spectacle, a few more people ducked into the alley to get around the jam. We weren’t the only ones watching either—the nearby merchants did too, as well as their families, servants, and apprentices, some of them from the upper levels of their buildings.

Tegen must’ve shared my worries for the crowd interfering with our we’re-not-really-together approach, because he pulled on my hand to indicate we should stay in place. I could just imagine the ruckus if someone were to accidentally bump into Camouflaged Teila, so we just stood there for a bit while the flatbeds creaked past.

Tegen was not exactly lost in thought—not with the way he watched our surroundings—but he wasn’t himself either. If this were any other time, he would’ve been talking up a storm, explaining every little thing about the caravan.

It was about then I saw my first blond: a soldier with his hair tied back in a braid. A few others nearby had chestnut-hued hair, but his was many shades lighter than theirs—almost the color of summer wheat.

“Nathlein,” Tegen said, “from north of Albei.”

“And his people were the ones who crossed the ocean, right?”

“Yes,” he answered, and then as if he couldn’t help himself: “it was hundreds of years ago. He is the same as that soldier you met.”

“Elinei.”

“That’s the one,” Tegen said.

The rest was silence until the caravan passed and the crowd dispersed. Then, he pulled us into motion, the two of us in our uncle-and-nephew roles. About a half minute later, Teila emerged from the alley, followed shortly by Mumu and Haol.

We traveled along the Albeitsoot for three blocks before Tegen gestured to a side street. The direction pointed us toward where we might’ve expected to pick up Borba’s trail once he’d passed through the Intersection of the Assassins. Obviously, that wasn’t what it was really called, but the dumb name helped ease the anxiety I was feeling.

Along the way, I didn’t see or smell anything unusual—just the faint scent of blood that seemed to always be present in Albei. Yuki didn’t pick up anything either, the two of us consulting each other as we walked.

Our team traveled in ever-widening arcs for about an hour, moving steadily east until we reached the Geista district, where the stray peoples lived. There wasn’t an official boundary—no wall or anything like that—but the style of the buildings changed noticeably. Also, I saw a lot more of the tall and broad dolbecs, the blue nisaak with their lizard tails, and the crow-headed peltwei. The last were the least common, but they were also the most noticeable to me. Aslishtei had left an impression.

Our formation had already been compromised by the walking back and forth we’d done, with Mumu and Haol struggling to appear natural while they followed Tegen and me. Our entrance into Geista made it even harder, though, since we stood out more among all the stray peoples.

We only walked for about half a block before Mumu and Haol caught up, and she signaled that we should move as a group. The disguise wasn’t working anymore and was also slowing us down.

Frustration at our lack of progress rolled off of Mumu, but what could she do? She was stuck with me and my decision, and I wasn’t going to change my mind. I could be stubborn too.

With a handful of gestures, Mumu instructed Teila to stick close while Camouflaged, and for me to keep going.

“Trail discipline?” I asked in Signed Diaksh.

Mumu shook her head. “I want us together in case we need to respond quickly to something.”

As we walked, I noted the district’s architecture. The buildings appeared to come in primarily three types: square, gray-stone behemoths with ten-foot arched entries; tall, narrow homes made from light-colored wood and engraved with willowy decorative features; and rounded, tower-like buildings rising four floors high, using the same gray stone as the first type.

The streets were as well organized as the rest of Albei… which was to say not very. The buildings were in good condition, though. A part of me had worried that this part of town would be the city’s ghetto.

There were also just as many people as elsewhere. They haggled with merchants, sat under canopies at the Albei equivalent of open-air cafés—the first I’d seen in this world—and otherwise seemed to be moving around town with purpose.

It looked like an interesting place to explore one day. Yuki was hopeful too. There were so many new-interesting-delicious varieties of qi in the air, yet all they could do was briefly sample them as we passed by.

We didn’t find Borba, but we did stumble across his qi. Despite all the difficulties we’d faced, the faint scent of it came from an alley ahead of us.

I immediately pointed, and signed, “Borba passed through there.”

“Wait,” Mumu responded before disappearing into Camouflage and padding toward the alley to peer within. She ducked inside.

The rest of us moved out of the way of traffic to surreptitiously string our bows.

Mumu came back to the alley’s entrance, and signed, “Clear for now. Follow carefully.”

The others couldn’t see her, so I relayed the instructions. I also whispered in case Ikfael could hear: “We might’ve found Borba’s trail.”

That confused the others, until I gestured toward her statue in my backpack.

The alley was wide enough for a couple of dolbecs to comfortably walk past each other. No doors opened onto it from the adjacent buildings, but there were a few windows set high in the walls.

Mumu crouched about twenty-five yards ahead, at a crook in the alley where two new buildings began. She waited for us to get closer before slipping around the corner and sneaking ahead once more.

Past the crook, the alley continued for another fifteen yards before opening onto what looked like a shared courtyard. Mumu crouched at the exit, and past her were neat rows of planter boxes full of something leafy.

Common Kale (Plant)

Talents: Hardy

Okay, nothing special there, nor in any of the other boxes I checked.

Mumu signed, “Approach.” Then, she disappeared into the courtyard.

We snuck forward and saw that the space was big—about thirty yards by thirty yards—with planters running in three parallel circles and a covered pavilion in the center. A handful of dolbec elders had gathered there to chat and... knit.

Stone buildings surrounded the courtyard on all sides, each with a porch furnished with tables and cushions big enough for dolbecs. Only one was currently occupied, though—the farthest to our right.

A dolbec elder sat in the middle of a small crowd attending to him. The crowd’s postures, movements, and spirits expressed concern, which was wise considering that the scent of Borba’s qi was coming from his direction. Just the qi, though—there was no sign of the monster himself.

I signed the information to my team and felt Mumu’s scowl in response; her disappointment was palpable. Still, she understood that there was work to do, so she snuck back to our position.

She whispered, “Teila, Tegen, and Haol are to stay hidden. It's unlikely the dolbecs are involved, but Borba might be using them as bait in a trap. Eight is with me.”

When we signaled our understanding, she let her Camouflage drop and strode toward the occupied porch. I jogged to catch up, then matched her pace. The two of us drew looks from the knitting elders, but the attention felt light, like we weren’t anything to be concerned about.

One pair of eyes lingered, and looking back, I saw:

Bruta the Horror of Crunei (Human, Dolbec, Dusk)

Talents: Broken Loyalty, Cutter, Savage, Tempered Rage

The expression on his face was mild enough, but I shuddered at the disjointed state of his spirit. His attention remained a constant pressure against my back.

Ahead, the people occupying the porch apparently noticed our approach, because they stood aside so that the man in the middle could see us. He shared Bruta’s features, and the two could easily be brothers. But why was one knitting while the other was injured? I didn’t know, and wasn’t sure I cared. My goal was simple—to learn as much as possible about Borba’s whereabouts and treat any instances of Siphon I happened to come across. I didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in another family’s drama.

The first step was another Status check:

Wusta the Horror of Crunei (Human, Dolbec, Dusk)

Talents: Broken Loyalty, Fierce, Sword or Death, Suppressed Rage

Holy hells, what was up with these people? Just what do you have to do to get a title like “The Horror of Crunei?” For two people to get it?

There’d been lots of ordinary folks in Albei—I’d seen them and their ordinary talents—but every once in a while I came across hidden monsters like Bruta and Wusta.

The parallels in their names and talents convinced me they were either brothers or close cousins. I checked the people around them, and their names indicated family ties to one or the other.

Based on their talents, only a handful seemed to be fighters, while the others possessed a mix of talents for cargo management, merchanting, or crafting goods.

“Be careful,” Mumu whispered as we approached the porch. “The one in the middle is dangerous.”

“You know him?” I asked.

She shook her head. “My Wild Sense tells me so.”

A woman stepped in our way, towering over us. Her voice was firm as she said, “Who comes to Crunei’s Garden?”

I’d checked earlier along with the others, and her Status was:

Bleith Wustasdaughter (Human, Dolbec)

Talents: Steadfast, Logistalogical, Busy Buddy

Mumu clapped her hands twice. “I am Mulallamu the Master of the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge. This young boy beside me is my apprentice, Eight. We come in search of a murderer from our village who’s fled to Albei.”

The dolbecs eyed us, appearing to be waiting for Wusta, who didn’t seem to be in a hurry to respond. Instead, he said, “Crost, come forward.”

A young man stepped out from behind the others. His age was hard to gauge, but he was about six feet tall and built like a quarterback. I’d missed him with my earlier scan, so I checked him with my Status camera:

Crost Bleithsson (Human, Dolbec)

Talents: Steadfast

Ugh, he’s just a boy, not even ten years old yet. And I thought I was big for my age.

Wusta asked him: “What does it mean when you see two hunters?”

The boy snapped to attention. “That there are three others hidden nearby.”

“At least three,” Wusta corrected.

“I understand and have learned,” Crost said. “Thank you, Teacher.” Then, he stepped back.

Wusta quirked his head at us, asking the question without having to.

“The rest of my team”—Mumu gestured behind us—“is keeping watch. As I said, we are hunting a murderer, one who has killed others of my lodge. We are being cautious.”

Wusta laughed. “To say a hunter is cautious is to say the same thing twice.”

“That is a fair assessment.” Mumu shrugged to hide her annoyance-hurry-tension. “We are here—”

“The reason is obvious,” Wusta said, interrupting. “I’ve encountered your murderer, haven’t I?”

Mumu looked to me, and I nodded in reply. While it was hidden by a pair of loose-fitting pants, a slash of rusty qi marked Wusta’s left hip.

“Yes,” she said. “His name is Borba, and he has a talent for absorbing the qi and abilities of those he attacks. We tracked the scent of his mark to you.”

“Ah, that it explains it, then—we treated the wound, yet I continue to feel ill. Like I’ve been poisoned, but none of our curatives have worked.” Wusta interlaced his fingers as he considered us. “Well, well, the world is wide, and there are all kinds of talents in it. I assume you mean to bring this Borba his death? He did, after all, kill hunters from your lodge.”

“Among others,” Mumu said, “but yes, he will die.”

Wusta sighed, then looked away as if we were too tiresome to behold. “What a waste. A talent like that can establish a dynasty.” He shifted in his seat to glance back at Mumu. “We could buy him from you—make sure he was properly punished, of course, pay off the debts owed for those he’s killed and injured, and we’d put his talents to good use—”

Mumu cut him off. “Borba. Will. Die,” she said, emphasizing every word.

“Then how will you balance the damage he’s done?” Wusta said, his voice heavy.

“To you? We will remove his mark so that it no longer afflicts you.”

“And?”

The muscles along Mumu’s jaw throbbed. “We will also provide financial compensation."

“Compensation?” Wusta asked, mockery in his voice. “What good is it when blood has been spilled? No, the only answer is more blood. That is how balances are paid.”

Wusta and Mumu locked eyes, with neither refusing to budge.

I raised my hand to get their attention. “Can I at least treat the Siphon while you two... ah... negotiate? The longer we leave it alone, the stronger Borba will get.”

Wusta shifted his attention to me. “Is your apprentice a hunter or a healer?”

“A hunter,” Mumu said, “though one with a talent for qi.”

“How promising,” Wusta said, grinning with his teeth bared. “Come, little apprentice, do your work.” Then, he slipped his pants down to expose his thigh. There weren’t any signs of a physical wound, but Borba’s qi lingered on and under his skin.

It wasn’t anything Yuki and I hadn’t done before, but when I put my palms over the affected area, Yuki’s qi couldn’t penetrate the skin. “Ah… you need to relax your guard. My qi needs to enter your body to treat you.”

Wusta’s reply was a heavily lidded look, but then, as if a door suddenly opened, Yuki’s qi soaked into his thigh.

“Where were you when he cut you?” I asked. “We’ll need to know, so that we can continue tracking him.”

“Do all your apprentices speak out of turn?” Wusta asked Mumu.

Mumu might still be pissed at me, but that didn’t mean she’d put up with someone badmouthing one of her hunters. “For the wilderness,” she said, “it’s wise to nurture independence.”

Wusta snorted. “To each their own path.” Then, a couple minutes later, he added, “That does feel better. The illness is receding.”

Qi flared under my hands as Wusta circulated his own qi through his body. The pattern was impossible to discern, though, not without Yuki entering his meridians. I would’ve been lying to say we weren’t tempted—even from outside we could tell the spell was different from anything we’d encountered previously—but both Yuki and I knew that that was a slippery slope. And besides, who knew, maybe Wusta was testing to see how I’d react.

“It’d help if we knew what qi spells you use,” I said, “so that we can plan accordingly. Borba may have stolen—”

Wusta’s hand was as big as a dinner plate, so it covered my whole face when he grabbed my head. He didn’t exert any strength—he didn’t need to. The threat came through nicely without it, thank you very much.

“Never ask a dusk-sworn his abilities. To do so is to tread on sacred ground. Is that clear?”

“I understand.”

The hand released me, and I fought to keep my expression neutral. My mouth kept shut too. Mumu, I noticed, was doing the same, but her eyes remained locked on Wusta and her hand clenched her spear’s haft. None of the dolbecs reacted, though. They seemed to be waiting for the treatment to finish before resuming the negotiations.

The time passed in tense silence, until Yuki was finally finished with their work and I was gladly able to return to Mumu’s side.

Wusta stood up to hike up his pants, and Jesus, the man was nine feet tall at the minimum. He also moved well for an old man. No wonder Mumu’s Wild Sense had triggered.

He worked his hip. “Yes, that’s better. Much better.”

“Good,” Mumu said. A bit of her tension eased. “Now, about Borba.”

“I recall the village of Voorhei. Your hunters are fond of their spears.”

“Yes?” Mumu said, clearly unsure of the tangent.

“It’s a useful tool, like any weapon,” Wusta said, “but I prefer to see the fear and hatred in my enemies’ eyes close up. Oh, I understand that there are paths requiring the spear, but it’s not a favorite of mine or my Path to Perfection. Perhaps... an exhibition might be enough to convince me otherwise? In exchange, it would balance the debt between us.”

“You want us to duel?” Mumu asked, incredulous.

But Wusta laughed. “If we fought, we’d soak the ground in blood. No, I’m thinking of a spar between our apprentices.”

Mumu scowled. “Our Eight is not a bargaining piece.”

“Then it will be blood,” Wusta said. “Are you sure?”

“How about I just show you our spear forms?” I offered.

“Forms are nothing compared to the pressure of a spar. Only then does the truth of one's skill truly emerge.” Wusta gestured, and Crost came forward to stand just behind him. “The choice is yours, hunters. Do the apprentices fight, or do we?”

Mumu’s hand clenched and unclenched, so I reached up to take it. “It’s okay. I’ll do it.”

She might’ve been angry with me before, yet there was nothing but concern in her eyes now. “It’s dangerous—more than you think.”

“More than the King?”

Mumu snorted in spite herself. “Not that bad, at least.”

“Then it’ll be fine. I’ll be cautious.”

The feeling in her eyes changed: from concern to regret. There was an awareness of her limitations, and an anxious desire to improve. And behind all those things was care—a need to protect.

Yes, we’d recently fought, but she was still my friend. A flawed one, perhaps, but no one was perfect. I knew that well enough. We had to put aside our spat to deal with Wusta.

“I can trust you with this,” Mumu said, not a question but a statement recognizing our relationship.

“I’m a hunter, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” Mumu said, and the hint of a smile tugged at the edges of her lips.

I turned to Wusta. “Just one question before we start—it’s been killing me not knowing the answer—just what exactly is Crunei’s Garden?”

“Did you really enter this place not knowing with whom you’d be dealing?” He laughed in the face of our arrogance. “Ours is the strongest caravan team in all Albei. We are the ones you contract to make the journey to Dolbec’s Rock.”

Okay, that sounded impressive, and from the look of respect that suddenly appeared in Mumu’s eyes, it likely was.

“And this,” Wusta said, gesturing to Crost, “is my prized grandson. Please do test him, apprentice to Mulallamu. Show us your village’s spear.”

20

A Friendly Spar

I’d thought I’d fight Crost in the garden, but Wusta led us toward the door to his house instead, the dolbecs with him following right along. Mumu and I were like baby chicks in the crowd of giants, so she whistled to call over the rest of our team; we were still baby chicks, but at least there were more of us now. And more dolbecs too, because the knitters also came over in anticipation of the show. They’d apparently been paying attention to the conversation on the porch.

While Mumu signed a quick explanation to the other hunters, I gawked at the house’s architecture. The exterior was plain, gray stone with the only decorative feature seemingly the arched doorway, but inside was a wonderland of tilework and mosaics. Every room was visible to every other room in an open floor plan taken to the extreme.

There were wide arches everywhere—they were what separated the rooms—and each was decorated with patterns of square, round, and diamond-shaped stones that looked like lapis lazuli. The theme of blue continued into the floor too; cobalt and white tiles flowed like water from space to space.

While the interior art was geometric, the art on the far walls was figurative—depicting dolbecs working at everyday tasks like farming, tending to animals, weaving baskets, and so on. The mosaics had been created from stones in a variety of colors, from rich umbers to buttery yellows and meadow greens. The style was a surprisingly effective blend of Mesoamerican and Norse, with hints of Constantinople thrown in.

My eyes must’ve been as big as saucers, because Crost chuckled when he saw my reaction. “Blue is the color of war,” he said. “The other colors are for life.”

The older dolbecs nearby nodded in approval.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to question him about the aphorism nor to look closer at the art. Wusta kept us moving until we reached an interior courtyard in the middle of the building. The ceiling was vaulted here so that the upper two floors could look down at a large sparring circle. The floor was plain stone covered in sand, and weapons and protective gear hung on stands nearby.

There were stairs on two sides, and they doubled as seating. A couple handfuls of teens sat on the steps talking, though their chat was interrupted by our arrival. They all stood and bowed, hands over their hearts, toward Wusta.

“Teacher,” they said all together.

“We have an opportunity,” he said, “to observe the hunter’s spear. Pay attention.”

The students bowed again, and the crowd spread to the outside edges of the circle. Crost picked a spear from the available weapons and went to stand inside. I followed him; that much seemed obvious.

There were a number of squares engraved within the circle. They looked like starting positions, and that was confirmed when Crost stepped onto one and pointed me to the one opposite him.

I took off my backpack first and set it outside the circle, making sure to face Ikfael inward. Hopefully, she’d be able to watch. Then a dolbec directed me to also set aside my weapons, and he handed me a blunt spear and wooden knife instead. When I asked about my hauberk, I was told I could keep it on. I noted, however, that Crost was still in plain clothes, apparently foregoing armor.

I glanced over at my team and saw that they were watching the preparations with concern but not alarm. Mumu, with her hand low and against her side, signed, “Don’t show too much.”

Right, I can do that, I thought. Just keep cool—this’ll be just like any other spar. I was even used to practicing with people bigger than me. I was tall for my age, about four foot nine or ten, but everyone in the Hunter’s Lodge outsized me except for Teila.

I loosened my shoulders—the tension in me was ramping up, so I tried to head it off.

The spear was heavy, but I’d manage. The knife I attached to my belt, taking the time to do it right. Only once my weapons and armor were settled did I take my position opposite Crost.

Wusta stood outside the circle at its midpoint. “Bow to the teacher,” he called out.

Crost turned to him to bow. That didn’t make sense for me so, after a moment’s thought, I swung around toward my team and bowed. A few people in the crowd clucked at that, but they could go suck eggs for all I cared.

“Bow to the opponent,” Wusta said.

That I did, and so did Crost. He’ll probably come in fast—

“Begin.”

Crost immediately launched himself at me, covering the distance in a heartbeat. Fortunately, I’d already been moving, circling to the left, and I let the thrust slip past me. There’d been no qi in the attack—it’d been pure muscle and technique. He didn’t let up, either, as he reoriented to swing the butt of his spear around like a staff.

I swung my own in response, thinking to sweep his attack aside and then follow up with a quick jab, but his strike had been a feint. He twirled the spear to stab at me instead.

I had to sidestep to keep from getting hit and then keep going because the kid didn’t let up. All he seemed to do was attack, attack, and attack in a connected series of thrusts and strikes.

He put me on the defensive, which was fine, since it’d let me get a feel for him. Eventually, he’d slip up and I’d get to counter… yet Crost never did. His every attack seemed to set up his next strike or thrust—I had to stay on the defensive or else I’d get hit. If I wanted one of my attacks to land, I’d have to do it from a disadvantaged position.

There wasn’t a lot of room for thought, both of us acting and reacting from muscle memory, but a part of me noticed how interesting the spar was. Even though we used the same weapon, the personalities of our fighting arts were different. Crost’s was aggressive, very much so, while the hunter’s spear was elusive, protecting the wielder until an opening could be found.

From the side, I heard Wusta sigh. "It's always the same. You hunters never come out of hiding until you’re pushed. Crost, unlock the first door.”

I felt a sudden pressure, like I was at the bottom of a pool, and Crost’s next strike smashed against my spear. I would’ve lost my grip if I hadn’t been trained to fight against creatures stronger than me. My next sidestep was cut off as Crost shifted positions, then he blocked me from going the other direction.

He was suddenly much stronger and faster, all in one go, and it wasn’t qi or mana that did it. The scent of his spell-ability-talent was different. No, not a talent, I thought; he only had Steadfast.

I heard chuckles from the audience as Crost cut me off again and again. He was doing his damnedest to keep me contained, but I fought him for every inch, drawing on my experiences sparring with the hunters of Voorhei’s lodge. They were a wily bunch, and I’d learned a lot from them—

No, I shouldn’t show him everything.

So I held back from the clever ploys. It meant letting Crost push me around, but I could take a few hits. What was he going to do? Stab me in the heart? Been there, done that. My practice spear was taking a beating warding off his strikes, though, so I slipped in some qi to reinforce it.

The wood was greedy, drinking more than double what I’d expected. The spear became heavier, and, caught off guard by the sudden change, I was nearly jabbed in the face. Not interested in a broken nose, I rolled under the thrust and retook the circle’s center. I’d hoped to attack Crost’s back, but the kid had already spun around and was swinging by the time I was back on my feet.

“Now it’s starting to get interesting,” Wusta said. “Bone breaker.”

Crost smiled, and a pulse of qi radiated from his body. His spear whistled through the air, but I didn’t want to give up the center, so I blocked the blow directly. It felt like getting hit by a truck, and the strike drove me to one knee. My spear held though, and as Crost pulled back for a quick jab, I smashed his forward knee quarterstaff style.

Sorry, kid, but I’ll heal it afterward.

My swing felt like hitting a streetlamp, though, and while Crost’s knee buckled, he got right up again, uninjured. He laughed too, clearly having the time of his life. He charged, and I dodged to his right, but he let go of the spear on that side to reach out and grab me. His hand locked onto my wrist, and then he turned on his center to pull me toward his spear’s point.

There was nothing in the hunter’s spear arts like that move. Instinctively, I understood it was specifically designed for fighting other people.

As Crost’s spearhead aimed for my chest, there was nowhere for me to go but down, so I let myself drop into one of the hunter’s ground-fighting forms, and stomp kicked him in the balls.

Crost’s smile disappeared—his eyes crossed. He didn’t let go though, and with a breath, he reset to strike again. I used the time to plant my spear, using it like a lever to push him down.

We were both on the ground then, which didn’t bode well, since Crost was a lot stronger than me. I pulled out my knife, and with a lightning-fast Dog’s Agility slipped over him, the knife’s dulled point stopping just above his right eye.

His own knife, I noticed, was also in hand—its point was against my chest, in the hole in my armor left by the crossbow bolt.

“Release,” Wusta said.

Crost let go of my wrist. His body relaxed, and whatever spells or abilities he’d been using dissipated. His grin returned, and he helped me to stand, gesturing toward our starting positions.

“Bow to the opponent,” Wusta said.

We both did, and I couldn’t get over how well the kid had done. My Spear Arts was at rank 8, and he’d kept up with me even before he’d used his abilities. I peeked at his talents again—

Crost Bleithsson (Human, Dolbec)

Talents: Steadfast

Nascent: Fighting Genius

—and the spar had been enough to reveal a nascent talent.

“Bow to the teacher,” Wusta said.

I turned to bow toward my team. Teila had sparkles in her eyes, while Tegen, Haol, and Mumu all looked thoughtful. All around them, the dolbecs scowled.

Not Crost, though. He came over to slap me on the shoulder. “That was amazing. How long will you be in Albei? We should spar again. Where are you staying? Do they have an open space? Or we could use the street. Anywhere is fine, really.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time,” I said. “Our hunt isn’t something we can put off. We’ve already delayed more than we should. Once we have the information we need from your grandfather, we’ll have to go.”

Said grandfather came over to eye me. “That spell at the end, it was your lodge’s Dog’s Agility?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mumu nod, so I nodded too.

“And your talents, how many?” When I hesitated to answer, he added, “I can go to the world speakers to find out, so you can tell me now and earn some goodwill.”

Once again, Mumu nodded, so I said, “I have six.”

A sigh went around the room, and the dolbecs’ scowls turned into smiles.

Wusta accepted the number, as if it wasn’t a surprise. “Your level?”

Mumu nodded a third time, and I said, “Four.”

“You’ve come far for one so young. You’re talented, and it makes up for the weaknesses in your foundation.” He turned to leave. “We are done here.”

“Ah, a question first—we wanted to know where you got injured.”

He glanced back, and I saw the wheels turning in his head, but couldn’t make out anything definite in his spirit; it was such a mess.

“Here in Geista,” he finally said. “I was invited to attend a marriage celebration taking place yesterday evening in the street between the Goska and Thikilei family houses. One of a group of workers coming home from the Butchery bumped into me. That’s when I was cut. I questioned the workers afterward, yet none of them were guilty. Their knives were clean.” He briefly touched his right hip where he’d been wounded. “This Borba of yours had blended in with them, then disappeared back into the crowd. Almost immediately, I felt ill, and I thought an old enemy must’ve mustered the courage to act.” He sneered. “For the wound to have come from a hunter—how pathetic.”

Several of the dolbec students muttered in concern for their teacher, but he stared them into silence before turning toward us again. “I came home immediately afterward, and the rest you know. Now we are finished. Be gone.”

I went to get my gear, and checked on Ikfael in the process—her spirit appeared to be sleeping. That was probably for the best, but she’d missed a good show.

‘We’ll tell her the story later,’ Yuki said.

When Teila came over to check on me, I told her I was winded from the exertion, but that was all. If this had been a typical training session at the lodge, we would’ve kept going for at least another couple of hours.

Then it was time to go, and my team was followed outside by some of the dolbecs. They didn’t say anything as they passed us, just found their seats in the courtyard and picked up their knitting where they’d left off.

Mumu eyed them, but they seemed engrossed in gossiping. Still, she kept her voice low. “Are you all right, Eight?”

I nodded. “It was an interesting spar. I learned a lot.”

“That child will be fearsome when he grows up,” Tegen said.

“I had the same thought,” Haol said.

“Me too,” I admitted. “I can’t believe he’s not ten yet, isn’t even Level 1.”

“That’s why the people laughed,” Haol said, his brow furrowed.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Haol glanced back toward the house. “Crost was able to spar you to a draw, even though you out-level him and have so many more talents. His people see him going much farther once he begins to truly grow.”

“They think you’ve reached your peak early,” Tegen said, “that you won’t go much farther than dawn, and that your talents will stagnate soon after.”

“Dawn? But why would I stop there?” I asked.

The hunters laughed, but it was a quiet thing, meant only for the five of us.

“Our Eight is ambitious,” Mumu said, “and rightly so.”

Tegen explained: “Light calls to light, which is why people live in villages to begin with. We attract beasts during the Long Dark, but not so powerful or so many as the cities. There’s danger, of course, but the scale is smaller. It is a balance the villages maintain.”

“Oh, so that’s how the sugar maker was able to live in the woods on his own,” I said.

“That’s right,” Tegen replied. “A person at Level 1 or 2 isn’t a tempting target for the true monsters living in the forest."

“That means less opportunities to gather light, though,” Haol added.

Tegen nodded. “True. If a hunter is diligent, and their path takes them past Level 7, then the balance shifts. They are stronger, for certain, but not so much so that it outweighs the danger drawn to the village by that strength.”

It wasn’t hard to see where this line of thought led: “The cities gather the strong, so that they can defeat powerful monsters, which in turn provides light to fuel their residents’ growth.”

“Yes.” Tegen smiled, seemingly pleased with me for understanding, though his spirit was anything but.

Which, when I thought about it, the reason was obvious. “If I ever want to become silvered, I’d have to leave Voorhei.”

“Yes,” he said again.

Every member of my team wore a small smile as they gazed at me: Tegen’s was sad, Haol’s wry, Teila’s determined, and Mumu—her pride in me shone. The spat from earlier was just a hiccup in our relationship. What I saw in that moment was who she truly was, unencumbered by grief and anger.

“Your path is your path,” Mumu said, “and none of us will keep you from it.”

“Besides,” Haol said. smirking, “there’s nothing wrong with having a silvered for a friend. Don’t be surprised if we call on you for help one day.”

I shook my head at them, at a loss for how to respond.

Haol chuckled. “The boy is finally speechless. This is a first.”

“A day we’ll all remember,” Mumu said. “Our Eight without questions or quips.”

Tegen patted me on the head. “Now, if only he remembers his teeth aren’t strong enough to chew rocks, he may yet survive long enough to reach dawn, let alone silvered.”

“Oh, we’ll help him remember,” Mumu said. “That’s the least we can do for our Little Pot.”

21

The Truth Seen Clearly

We left Crunei’s Garden more hopeful than when we’d arrived. And relieved too. It wasn’t like the team had wanted to risk themselves at the Intersection of the Assassins, but it had appeared to be the best way to pick up Borba’s trail. That idea was now proven false, and we’d learned a last-known location for him—without having to endanger Tegen and Teila.

Mumu asked for directions once we were back on the street, and then we were on our way again. We continued to be mindful of ambushes, of course, but the sheer number of people made the process of looking for danger so much harder than when in the wilderness.

Typically in a city, you’d filter out the majority of what you saw, heard, and smelled, and focus on anything that might be out of place. In Albei, though, nothing was familiar, so I had to re-learn what might be considered normal.

Also, and this was the kicker, an assassin would do their damnedest to fit in. The only effective weapons I possessed to counter that were my spirit eyes, so I kept them roving, doing my best to sift through the eddies of intentions flowing through the people.

Interestingly, the deeper we went into Geista, the fewer businesses we found on the first floors of buildings. The streets became primarily residential. Then, we came across a plaza crammed with people at tables hawking their wares. Around the edges were shops, and those businesses appeared to extend up to the second and third floor, almost like mini department stores.

Mumu hesitated briefly, then must’ve decided to go through, because she cut her way between the tables and we got to see what was on sale, even if only in passing. About a third were devoted to meat and produce, including a few live animals like goats and birds. Another third sold intermediary products like cloth, reeds, and lumber. And the final third were finished goods—mostly housewares, but also some clothing and weapons.

The intrepid merchants weren’t put off by our war-like demeanor; they just called out louder when they saw us, especially the ones selling weapons. There was hunger in the air—for money, for recognition, for power—and a simmering rage too. I hadn’t been negligent in using my Status camera, and I noticed quite a few dusk people in the crowd. They seemed to have themselves under control, but the feeling was palpable this deep into Geista.

The merchants were as diverse as the rest of the district, and their talents as varied. The more unusual ones included Gab Hand, Insightful Appraiser, Brash Sweetheart, and Heavy Thumb. The last sold herbs and spices, with all his transactions involving a scale. He didn’t seem to be getting a lot of business, though. No surprise there.

Still, I made a note to return at some point to replace the knives I’d gifted to Ikfael. Just from the brief glances I’d snatched, there was some quality workmanship for sale—

The thoughts about shopping flew out of my head when I heard Mumu whistle a caution. The team closed in on Tegen’s position, and she directed our attention to Aslishtei striding around the outer edges of the market. Following her at a distance was Hutwa the Solemn, the healers’ contribution to the Intersection of the Assassins.

“I count two,” Haol said.

“Same,” Mumu said. “Eight, is there anyone hidden?”

Knife shopping forgotten, I scanned the area. “No, no signs of the hidden watchers from either the land soldiers or the Hunter’s Lodge.”

The five of us stood, an island of watchfulness in the middle of the market, the people nearby ignoring us. Meanwhile, at the market’s edge, the crowd scurried out of Aslishtei’s path. It took only a few moments for her to leave the plaza by turning onto a side street—the very same one we’d been headed toward.

“I don’t like this,” Mumu said.

“The land soldiers have their own investigation going,” I reminded her. “Maybe they found a witness or one of their people spotted Borba.”

“Hopefully, that’s what it is,” Mumu said, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she took off at a quick pace, and the rest of our team chased after her.

You’d think an armed group hurrying through a crowd would draw some attention, and we did to a degree, but it was fleeting—a quick look to make sure there wasn’t anything alarming—and then folks went back to their business.

“We can probably count on Aslishtei knowing something we don’t,” I said.

Tegen’s face was stern. “We should prepare ourselves in case there’s been another murder.”

Mumu’s spirit became more agitated, and she suddenly broke into a run.

“Backtrail,” Tegen signed, but I was already on it.

I slipped behind him, one hand on his back, trusting him to break trail and guide me while I kept my spirit eyes focused behind us to make sure we weren’t being stalked. When he turned, sped up, or slowed down, I felt it through my arm and matched his pace and direction.

The movements required a kind of side-running that wasn’t intuitive, but I’d eventually gotten the hang of it thanks to all the practicing we’d done over the summer and early fall. The full version of the technique involved the whole team connected, each of us looking in a different direction, but that was more necessary for teams without our sensory abilities or in situations requiring the utmost caution.

We left the plaza behind, running for two blocks before a low whistle from Mumu slowed us. I peeked past Tegen to catch her slipping around the corner of a T-intersection, and a moment later, she returned and signaled us to Camouflage, which we did. Then, we snuck forward to see that the corner turned onto a cul-de-sac five buildings deep on each side and with one more at the far end.

All the buildings were in the gray-stoned, “rounded tower” style. Each of the residences was connected to its neighbors by bridges, and wind chimes hung from them, their music sounding faintly.

Above the street, ropes had been strung between the buildings, and attached along the ropes were streamers in a riot of colors—yellows, purples, greens, and reds. Tables with bench seating occupied the middle of the road, and they were covered by open-air tents patterned in the same colors. Two more tents stood to each side of the seating, both with raised platforms. One looked like a bandstand, while the other had four chairs arranged in a shallow half circle so that anyone sitting could watch the show.

The scene very much looked like the morning after a party, and I noted the first chairs I’d ever seen in this world. Not even Ghitha’s house had been furnished with them.

Only one person was sitting—an old man with a long beard braided with black ribbons. He had a narrow, mild-looking face. Aslishtei stood over him with her hands on her hips, though it didn’t seem to faze him.

At his back stood a couple of bodyguards as well as—what do you know... it’s Makul the Journeyman Healer. And there’s Hutwa whispering in his ear.

‘Now we have confirmation Hutwa belongs to their lodge,’ Yuki said.

Was there any doubt?

Mumu interrupted my thoughts when she whispered, “It is a bad sign that there is a master healer here.”

A what? I looked at the old man again.

Vorkut the Master Healer (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Diagnostical, Astute, Bookish, Underestimated

Tegen explained, “Only masters within the Healer’s Lodge are allowed beards, and the ribbons are a sign of honorable service. This one, then, is high ranked—an elder among them.”

“Any scent of Borba nearby?” Haol asked.

“I have a feeling...” Mumu’s words trailed off.

I turned my focus inward and blocked out the sights and sounds of people walking along the street behind us. Mumu was right; there was a lingering taint in the air—Borba had passed this way.

The scent was stronger in the direction of the cul-de-sac, and there was... there was... I closed my physical eyes and became one with the land.

Once again, I immersed myself in the ordered chaos of the city, and two things drew my immediate attention: the soft cries of people in distress, and the faint sense of watchful cunning. Its hungry attention brushed past me.

“He’s here,” I whispered. “Borba’s close enough to observe this place. He may have hostages.”

My heart raced in anticipation; I wiped my palms and made sure of my grip on my spear. Tension spiraled through the whole team, and I heard bows being strung.

“Teila with Haol. Bows only. Tegen, Eight, and I will engage directly.” Mumu’s voice was as taut as her spirit. “He’s in one of the buildings; I sense danger from the area across from the spousal tent.”

I nodded. In the building directly opposite from where Aslishtei and Vorkut conversed was where I sensed the distress. “The building with the vines carved around the door,” I clarified for the others.

It was four stories tall and patterned with windows. Most were shuttered closed, but a few were open, some partially, some completely.

“If I know Borba, he’ll pick the top floor,” Mumu said.

“Agreed,” Tegen said. “He’s changed since turning dusk, but still prefers to start engagements at the farthest distance possible.”

“I see slight movement in the shadows of the window farthest right,” Haol said.

I focused on the window and spotted glimmers of a spirit moving back and forth. Even at a distance, I could taste the blood covering it. “That’s him.”

“The bridges are going to be a problem,” Tegen said.

Haol tapped his bowstave, thinking. “If there’s only one way up to the fourth floor, that means three exits. Can we count on only one way up?”

No one had an answer for him.

“I never thought to study peltwei architecture,” Tegen said into the silence.

“Peltwei live here?” I asked. “In that case, we can ask Aslishtei, since she’s right there. We are going to ask for help, aren’t we? We need to overwhelm Borba or else we risk him escaping again.”

Mumu didn’t respond. She was Camouflaged, but my eyes let me see she was biting her lower lip. Meanwhile, her spirit rolled fiercely—clouds of dark, red, gold, and silver turning over each other.

“Mumu,” I said carefully, “we have to.”

“Borba is our lodge’s shame,” she said, angry. “We’ll be careful, not risking more than we need to, but it’ll be our team who deals with him.”

I swear, my vision turned red, and I nearly lost it. Just over the course of the day, we’d—she’d—made such progress, and then we were back to this? My emotions spiraled into—

‘Calm down,’ Yuki said, intruding into my thoughts.

Telling someone to calm down only makes things worse!

‘All right, then pretend Mumu is Alex, and it’s the time when you caught her coming home drunk at 3 AM.’

When she went joy riding? Jesus, I nearly hit her. After everything I’d promised myself about how I’d treat my own kids too.

‘But you didn’t,’ Yuki said.

No, I thought, taking a deep breath. I didn’t.

‘Alex didn’t know better, or else she would’ve done better, right? The same is true for Mumu right now.’

But Alex did know better, I countered. And so does Mumu.

‘Then something’s getting in the way—an emotion or a desire or fear.’

Right. Trauma makes everything messy. Everyone in Voorhei suffered from it, including Mumu. Not just because of Inleio’s murder either, but also from everything she’d lived through previously. I had to remember that there were no straight lines when healing from trauma. There’d always be moments of regression. All right, I’ll make one attempt to reach her, but just one. If it doesn’t work, I’m going to involve Aslishtei whether Mumu likes it or not. We don’t have time for anything else.

Yuki said, ‘The consequences of that wouldn’t be good, but our love for her and hers for us will survive it.’

That’s right. She’d forgive me.

We didn’t have time for a well-ordered argument or an impassioned speech—Borba could flee at any moment—so all I could rely on was—

A flash of silver from within Mumu’s spirit caught my eye. It reminded me that her new nascent talent was called Hunters’ Shield… “What’s more important?” I asked. “The lodge’s honor or its survival?”

“What question is this, Little Pot?” Mumu scowled. “We don’t have time for games.”

“Oh, the question’s real,” I said, “because that’s what you’re deciding, right here, right now.”

“How do you mean?” Tegen asked.

Ah, I wasn’t alone. The rest of the team was here too, and they could help.

“Aslishtei is high up in the land soldier hierarchy, right? And we’re squatting at the edge of a city block that looks to be all peltwei.” I took another breath to get myself under control, then continued, “She obviously knows the people who live here; she cared enough about them to rush over. So, if our actions make this situation worse—if her people die because we didn't use every resource available to us—then she’s going to become our lodge’s enemy, and unlike Borba she has the ear of the land knight.”

The hunters stilled.

“She already doesn’t like us,” I added. “We’ll only be making the situation worse if we don’t include her. We could also use her strength—”

“That’s enough.” Mumu sighed. “You’ve made your point clear enough.”

“So, we’re going to ask for help?”

There was so much reluctance in Mumu’s spirit, but she forced herself to nod. To say, “Yes.”

Relief washed through me. “Thank you, it’s the right decision.”

Mumu breathed roughly. “There are times, Little Pot, when you are very, very frustrating.”

“I’m not sorry.”

"No, and you shouldn’t be. A hunter relies on seeing the truth of the world clearly, and to do that, they must recognize their own truths first. I will never begrudge you or anyone else helping me face mine, even when it’s painful. My path demands it. All our paths do.” In a softer, smaller voice she added, “I just may not like it at the time.”

Tegen cleared his throat. “How do we involve Aslishtei in our plan?”

Mumu glanced toward the building with Borba in it. “If she can hold the lower floor, our team can approach from the bridges. Tegen, Haol, and Teila to one side, and Eight and I on the other.”

“Assuming there’s only one entrance from below,” Haol said.

“Even if there are more, she might be able to hold the floor,” I said. “She’s a summoner, remember?”

“Of small birds,” Haol said. “That’s all we’ve seen from her.”

Well, and a huge-ass snake, but my team didn’t know about that. My first day on this world had really been a tough one.

“Would the land soldiers value her so much if all she could do was force people to tell the truth and see hidden dangers? Ah, never mind, that’s a dumb question. Of course they would. Still, given how she’s behaved, we can assume she’s capable of more, plus we can just ask her.”

Mumu’s gaze lingered in my general direction. “The team will drop Camouflage and hold around the corner to conserve qi, while Eight approaches Aslishtei to inform her of the situation. He’ll collect what she knows of the building and what she’s willing to share of her abilities. We’ll assume a three-pronged attack for now, but will adapt once we understand the situation better.”

“And if Borba runs before we’re ready?” Tegen asked.

“We give chase, with whomever is closest to Aslishtei calling out what’s happening.”

“The healers will see and hear everything,” Haol pointed out.

I heard the creak of five different sets of knuckles tightening on weapons.

“Then so be it,” Mumu said, her voice flat. “We’ll deal with them as necessary.” She turned to me. “Now get going. The time has come for revenge.”

22

Stronger Together

As I crept toward the occupied tent, I heard Vorkut’s voice. “…have said, there’s apparently been no change to their condition. Until we know more, these homes must remain closed to visitors, or else we risk spreading the disease to the rest of the city. The possibility exists that it was something in the food, but I’m not willing to take the risk, and neither I’d wager would the land knight. Not after what happened in the spring. Do you know how many died then?”

“Two hundred and fifty-two,” Aslishtei said, “but this likely isn’t a disease. It’s a talent at work. A murderer—”

“Likely? You’d risk the city for that?”

Aslishtei’s beak clacked in frustration. “The symptoms are exactly the same as those described to me by the hunters involved.”

“Ah, hunters. How fortuitous to have consulted with experts in the matter.” The sarcasm turned into anger as Vorkut banged a fist against the chair’s armrest. “I am the expert, and it is under my authority as an elder of the Healer’s Lodge that I forbid you or anyone else from entering these buildings!”

After a moment, his expression turned conciliatory. “I am not unsympathetic. I understand the torment of standing helplessly by, and it is that very torment which I am stopping from spreading.”

“If it is an illness, then I will lock myself up with the others. Just let me inside. There are lives at stake.”

“Which is why I forbid it. No one will enter.”

I was just about to creep onto the riser, when a flutter of wings passed by my ear. For a moment, my heartrate spiked from the sudden reminder of being swarmed by cutter hawks two days prior, but it was just Aslishtei’s red songbird coming back to perch on her shoulder.

Her posture was already rigid from arguing with Vorkut, but she tensed even more at the bird’s arrival. “There can be only one reason why you’re here.”

“Of course,” Vorkut said. “The welfare of the city is my and my lodge’s only concern.”

“Close your flapping mouth,” she spit out. “I’m not talking to you.”

“How dare you—” Vorkut began, then cut himself off when Aslishtei unhooked the two summoning hoops she carried at her side. “You wouldn’t. My lodge won’t tolerate threats."

“Don’t tempt me, but no these aren’t for you.” Her head turned slightly to the side, her crow’s eyes flicking to catch sight of me. “He’s here, isn’t he? Your Borba.”

“In the building directly behind you,” I said. “The one with the vines engraved around the door. He’s at the fourth-floor window farthest from the main street, watching us.”

“Ah, well that confirms it’s not an illness.” Aslishtei gestured and a blue songbird flew out from one of the hoops, darting up and over the rooftops. “I’ve called for more land soldiers.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” I said. “He’ll run again—”

“If he does, I’ll track him,” she said, and then it was the red songbird’s turn to fly off. He took a position high above us, flying in circles.

“You didn’t let me finish. He’ll run again, or he’ll hurt the hostages he’s taken.”

Aslishtei’s voice was fierce. “I saw what your Borba did to that girl, Salu. My assumption is that my kin have already suffered the same fate. If not for the chance this fool of a healer is right, I would’ve already stormed the building myself.”

“He’s not mine, nor anyone else’s,” I said. “Borba’s given up the ties that bind us as brothers. As for your kin, we believe he’s kept some alive to use as”—I struggled to come up with a translation for battery—“a holding tank for qi.”

I continued: “If we go in quiet and take him by surprise, we can kill him before he drains them to death. The longer we wait, though, the weaker they’ll get and the quicker they’ll run dry.”

Her spirit was hard to read, but at least she seemed to be considering my words.

“And if our attack doesn’t work out,” I said, “then you can still track him. You won’t lose anything you wouldn’t have already lost.”

“What do you need from me?” she asked.

I breathed a little easier. We were short on time, but needed— “Information. Is there more than one way up to the fourth floor?”

“No, a wide spiral staircase leads up to the leisteila, and that’s all.”

“I don’t know that word.”

“A leisteila is an area for special visitors. The space is a big, open room, furnished for gatherings and conversation. We will be doing it a disservice by fighting there, but the family will understand.”

“If my team approaches from the bridges, can you hold the staircase to keep Borba from fleeing? Just in case.”

“I am a magician of some renown,” Aslishtei said with pride.

“And finally, do the people living in the building have access to qi spells or abilities?”

“Peltwei talents tend toward magic.”

“But you don’t know for sure? I thought you were kin.”

“All the peltwei are kin, some closer than others. That house belongs to the North Wind. He is Air-Touched, as well as a magician. Magic runs through the whole family.”

Well, hell, that was a wildcard I’d hoped to avoid.

‘There was always the chance he’d mark someone and gain new abilities,’ Yuki said. ‘Who knows what he picked up from Wusta.’

“We’ll just have to adapt,” I said aloud. “Give my team time to get into position, then storm away from this tent like you’ve had enough of the healers, like you’re not going to let anything stop you—”

Vorkut cleared his throat, his eyes considering. “So, this is a problem caused by the Hunter’s Lodge, is it? How unsurprising. Fortunately, we healers are used to mending their mistakes, and we will aid the honored magician by sending our guards after her. That will make this bit of theater appear more realistic, as well as provide the honored magician with some protection once she is inside.”

Aslishtei eyed the guards. “Fine. They should be enough.”

The master healer nodded. “We are honored to be of service.”

“All right,” I said, taking back control of the conversation. “We have a plan: Once you’re in the building, climb up to the fourth floor, making noise and calling out to your kin, so that Borba’s paying attention to you and not us. The signal to attack—”

“I’ll send my Little Red to you when I’m ready.”

“Right. When we see Little Red, we’ll attack. You’ll hear our Spiral Pierce spells—they’re loud—and then start your own assault.”

“My power will tear him apart,” she said, voice ominous.

There was nothing else to say after that, so I made my way back to my team to report on what I’d learned. The response was frowns all around, but we couldn’t exactly spend a lot of time refining the plan. We’d just have to roll with events as they happened.

Once everyone was fully Camouflaged again, we split up to sneak toward the entrances of the buildings adjacent to the one Borba was in. People kept their doors unlocked during the day, and these were no different. Borba’s sight lines to our locations were bad, so we were able to slip inside without issue.

Mumu and I moved quickly through an entryway that looked like it doubled as a mudroom, crossing into a large room furnished with polished wood, rugs, and cushions. A couple of peltwei sat together, murmuring, while a third stood at a window looking out at the street. He turned to see why the door had swung open on its own, yet he neither saw or heard us. We were whisper quiet as we padded toward a staircase at the back.

The stairs opened onto to a kitchen on the second floor, where a servant stood over a simmering pot. Up we went again, and on the third floor a meeting was taking place around a large table. The group listened as one of their number—her feathers faded to gray—urged them to be patient and wait out the quarantine. Around the room, three oil paintings hung on the walls, each a different view of the same mountain rising alone above a lake.

The fourth floor was completely occupied by the leisteila, the massive space extending to the building’s outer walls. The furnishings seemed simple at first glance—primarily in wheaty tans and forest greens—but I recognized the telltale shimmer of silk on the cushions. The space was currently empty of people.

The doors to the bridges were open, letting a strong breeze blow through. We made our way to the one leading to Borba’s location. The music of the wind chimes was louder here, so we moved quickly, right up until the doorway. Carefully, we peeked around the jamb—the door at the other side of the bridge was closed.

We crept out into the open, the chimes’ music all around us, the wind tugging at our clothes and hair. There was a thin decorative railing on each side. It’d likely keep Teila or me from falling, but someone like Tegen? It didn’t look nearly strong enough for that.

Mumu gently pushed on the opposite door, then shook her head. The hinges were on the inside, so the door should’ve opened inward.

“Locked,” she signed.

“How do we open?”

“We both kick; you’ll use Bear’s Strength.”

The lock didn’t look particularly sturdy, but it probably didn’t need to be—people generally didn’t build bridges connecting them to people they didn’t trust.

I got into position, enchanted my spear with qi and mana, and working as quickly-carefully-steadily as possible, applied poison to the spearhead. I felt butterflies in my stomach, and my mind raced, while inside me Yuki already had Iron Heart and Dog’s Agility spinning. The qi rushed through me, the two spells warming me up despite the chill wind.

Next to me, Mumu looked like she was ready to murder the door.

The wait was terrible, dragging on and on, the tension thick. I forced myself to take deep breaths and reminded myself not to tunnel—to stay aware of my surroundings and not just hyperfocus on Borba. Mumu would likely draw his immediate attention, so I planned to go for his blindside. He had a wooden left eye from when he’d once been mauled by wolves—

A songbird flew past—the red smearing—and Mumu and I immediately burst into action. I cast Bear Strength, slowing the spell to match her timing, and we kicked the door. The bolt broke, and wood splintered.

Across the room, a door flew off its hinges, followed immediately by the crack crack of two Spiral Pierce spells.

Borba was already moving. One arrow smashed through the shutter of the window where he’d been standing. The other hit him in the shoulder with a meaty thunk. It didn’t penetrate the flesh, though, and also didn’t keep him from grabbing a spear that’d been leaning beside him.

A quick glance told me there were more spears spread around the room. There were also people lying on the ground in the room’s center—an entire row of them moaning and listless.

‘Fourteen,’ Yuki said, ‘the qi is gone from two of them.’

Dog’s Agility rocketed me at Borba, and Bear’s Strength powered my spear. As fast as I was, though, Mumu flew faster, her spear’s point gleaming as it caught the light from the window. Borba barely deflected it, turned, and batted aside Tegen’s strike at his rear. I came in low, aiming for his left side, and thrust my spear into his hip. The attack landed, yet it felt like trying to push a dowel through a solid piece of leather.

Waves of qi emanated from Borba’s body. I recognized the flavors from the Hunter’s Lodge, but there was a taste of Wusta too, and the tang of something else—maybe multiple somethings.

I let Bear’s Strength go to cast Spiral Pierce in its stead. The qi spun, but Borba cleared the area around him with his spear. Lightning quick, I shot a Spark at him, but when the electricity crackled against his chest, the bastard just grinned.

Saliva spilled from his mouth; his eyes burned with hatred. The man he’d once been was gone.

Suddenly, a stream of cutter hawks raked him as they flew past, like the teeth of a chainsaw. Then, they turned to swarm him, their claws and beaks attempting to rend his flesh. Their attacks left angry scratches, but didn’t draw blood. He was, however, forced to protect his eyes, which let Mumu thrust at him unimpeded.

She hit him square in the solar plexus, yet even with Spiral Pierce his body resisted the damage. It was like fighting the King of the Forest all over again.

‘Another of the peltwei has lost their qi,’ Yuki said.

Borba had started the fight lanky, but his muscles steadily filled as the fight progressed. Suddenly, he reversed his spear—faster than before—nicking Mumu as it swept past her. The rusty red glow of his qi shot down the length of the haft and spread onto her forearm.

We had to keep him on the defensive and end the fight quickly. A battle of attrition favored him too much.

Tegen struck Borba’s arm to break it, but his spear rebounded. I went for the hip again, and luckily it shoved Borba off balance. Mumu used the gap in his defense to aim for the soft flesh of his neck. Her thrust missed, but both Haol’s and Teila’s shots struck him in the back. Borba growled, and threw himself at them, only to be slammed to the ground by Tegen’s spear.

Our quarry scrambled to get up, but Tegen fell on his legs, wrapping around them to keep him on the ground. Borba’s spear smashed across Tegen’s head, and the shaft snapped from the strength of the blow. He then discarded the now-useless spear and clawed at Tegen’s head and shoulders directly—the rusty glow of qi spreading.

Mumu’s spear rose and fell again and again like a piledriver. On the other side of him, I abandoned my own spear, pulled out a stiletto, and stabbed at his hand, wrist, elbow, and armpit. He tried to ward us off, but the cutter hawks harried him. I caught a couple of nicks from Borba’s claws on my own hands, but Yuki was ready for his qi. The moment it tried to invade my meridians, they ate it up.

Haol and Teila joined us with their spears. They thrust at him, shoved him, kept him on the ground, distracted, raging, frustrated. Suddenly, I was thrown back and went tumbling—all of us were. We’d been hit with a blast of air.

Borba stood up and laughed, a stutter of hisses and hiccups.

Mumu appeared tired but determined, though the glow of Borba’s qi lingered on her arm. Tegen, meanwhile, looked like he’d lost ten pounds. He picked himself up, however, and threw himself at Borba to grapple him to the ground again, only to be thrown back by another blast. This one had been directed, like a firehose spewing air instead of water.

It had to be some kind of qi spell or ability, because I didn’t sense any mana in it.

Well, two could play the air magic game. I charged Borba, but this time cast Air Shield. The rune came to mind lightning quick, and the mana felt cool as it sped through my running-hot meridians. A circle of dense air formed in front of me, and my spell deflected his, catching him by surprise—giving me the chance to leap at him and stab him in the neck. His flesh resisted, though, and I wasn’t able to gouge out his jugular.

From behind, Tegen tackled him, and all three of us went down in a tumble of bodies. All the while, I never stopped trying to stab Borba in the neck; he ducked his head to protect it and reached to poke out my eyes with his thumbs, but a pair of hands grabbed onto his arms to hold him back. A spear slid into place to lock his arms behind his head.

Borba bucked and fought to get free. He was stronger than any one of us, but not stronger than all of us together. We got him prone with his head unprotected. I cast a quick Spiral Pierce and burst his good eye like a squished grape.

Borba screamed bloody murder then. He cursed us all, and the bucking grew fierce. I was thrown from his chest, but kept my grip on my knife. I was just about to rush back in when I spotted a giant snake.

It... she was just like I’d remembered—fifteen feet long, at least a foot wide, and mottled black and green. She moved slowly, but that may have been the Dog’s Agility in me talking.

With this development, I ran to join Haol and Teila in locking down Borba’s arms. Both hunters were sweating something fierce, sucking in lungfuls of air, as their strength and techniques were contested. I joined Teila’s side and fought to hold him down.

When the snake finally arrived, she began the slow process of wrapping around Borba, beginning with his head and arms and working her way down until she had him fully bound.

It looked like it was safe to let go of Borba’s arms, so I did and picked up my knife again. There were gaps in the snake’s constriction I could stab through, and I wondered if maybe I could use the stiletto like a chisel to punch through an eye socket to the brain? At the other side of him, Mumu and Tegen were attempting to saw off his feet with their knives.

I got into position and waited for Borba’s ruined eyes to become visible. His bones creaked under the pressure of the snake’s grip. No breaks that I could hear, though, and the effort to sever his feet wasn’t working either. There was blood, but the ligaments refused to be cut.

A blast of air escaped from between the snake’s coils, yet she held on. Then, there was another, stronger blast, which once more didn’t budge the snake. A gap opened, exposing Borba’s left socket, so I jammed the stiletto into place before it could close. A quick Spiral Pierce later, I slammed my palm onto the hilt like hammer.

The bone ground under the stiletto’s tip, but it didn’t break through. I readied another Pierce, let Iron Heart go, and then cast Ram’s Head onto my hand. I hadn’t had much opportunity to practice the spell—I’d “bought”’ it from the lodge along with the all the rest of the apprentice-level ones available to me—but Yuki had enough of it down to help guide the qi where it needed to go. I was so focused on the fight, I forgot to enchant the stiletto, but luckily Yuki remembered for me, using their own qi and mana to do it.

My palm felt like a sledgehammer pounding into the stiletto’s hilt. Bang! The wooden hilt fractured under the blow, even with it enchanted, and the Spiral Pierce triggered, but the bone still didn’t break.

What did happen was that the snake’s body began to expand. That’s what it looked like at first, and the sight momentarily confused me, then I realized it was actually Borba’s body growing thicker. At the same time, the nearby peltwei cried out in pain, and both Tegen and Mumu gasped as the rusty qi clinging to their bodies intensified. Especially Tegen—he dropped his knife and clutched his face, as if in great agony.

Damn, damn, damn.

The hilt on my stiletto was gone, and I couldn’t risk another Ram’s Head-powered strike for fear of spearing my hand on the knife’s tang.

A split second later, Yuki’s concern for our friends’ safety spiked through me. More than anyone, they’d seen what Borba’s Siphon could do to its victims. ‘Let us go, maybe we can stop him,’ they said.

He’s dusk—can you get through?

Yuki’s response was a feeling of intense determination. Their tendrils sprouted along the tops of my hands and crawled the length of the stiletto down into the eye socket, only to be met by frustration. They couldn’t penetrate through the natural qi barrier all creatures possessed.

What about the nostrils? I suggested.

‘Working on it!’

They needed Borba’s qi disrupted, so I pulled out my other stiletto and readied another Ram’s Head. I hated to ruin another hilt, but it had to be done. Bang! The bone behind the eye socket held, and another knife was temporarily unusable.

Meanwhile, Yuki had made it into the nasal cavity, yet my effort hadn’t helped. They couldn’t penetrate the membrane there, so they headed to the lungs next.

That smell! The scent!

In the moment, I wasn’t sure who said what, but both Yuki and I recognized it immediately—Body Burner, the spell Inleio had used in the fight against the kalihchi bear.

One of the peltwei screamed, but then his voice cut off partway, letting the rest of his breath hiss out like a deflating balloon. The next one in line began to shriek, and he only lasted a handful of seconds longer.

Oh my god, oh my god. You have to stop him, Yuki. He’s burning through them, killing them; he’ll kill Mumu and Tegen too. I looked toward the peltwei and saw that they were arranged by age—it was the oldest ones who’d stopped breathing.

They really were a battery, and Borba had methodically organized them that way. Another voice began to scream in pain. I would’ve told Mumu and Tegen to run, but we’d already seen that distance had no effect on Siphon.

I ran toward Tegen and put my hands on his shoulders.

“Help Mumu first,” he said, the words curt. He tried to shove me away so that he could hack at Borba’s feet unimpeded, but I refused to let go.

Yuki, guide me.

And they did, splitting their attention between finding a way into Borba’s meridians and helping me undo the Siphon on Tegen. Instantly, my mouth flooded with the bitter-hateful-bloody taste of Borba’s qi. I gagged and my stomach heaved, but I held onto Tegen for dear life, for his life.

Yuki and I didn’t merge—we needed to be able to operate separately—but we were like glove and hand in pulling the Siphon out of Tegen. Meanwhile, inside Borba’s lungs was a chaotic battlefield of energies as the qi he’d stolen from different people clashed. Yuki was forced to dodge repeatedly, just to keep their qi body from getting injured.

Suddenly, two peltwei screamed at once, and Borba pushed the snake away enough for him to Dog’s Agility shift into a better position, one with more leverage. Then, he pushed the coils out farther, exposing his body. He was now twice as thick as before, and the qi rolled off him in waves.

More voices screamed.

Yuki was buffeted by the energies shearing through Borba’s body, yet they continued to probe for an entry. My own struggle against his qi was just as frustratingly slow. Tegen wasn’t being drained as quickly as the peltwei, yet I could literally feel him weakening under my hands. Haol and Teila thrust their spears at Borba’s belly, but neither attack pierced his skin.

Then, from out of nowhere, Aslishtei’s voice whispered in my ear, “Danger, danger, area attack, clear to at least a saqilm.”

My team reacted instantly, jumping back the required eight-and-a-half feet. I was a beat slower—surprised to find Tegen gone from in front of me—but Aslishtei had been generous with her warning. He’d had time to grab me and get us both out of the way of a stream of butterflies with mottled green-and-black wings.

A gray dust fell from them, and where the dust touched the snake, her body was eaten away as if by acid. Even so, the snake fought even harder to contain Borba, who shrieked like his soul was being torn in half when the dust fell on him. What was left of his clothes dissolved, as did his skin to expose the muscle underneath. His face melted, the flesh turning into a grey sludge that slid down the sides of his skull.

Then, the butterflies vanished one by one, and the last of the dust settled. The snake continued to fight, but it had been gravely injured.

Once more Aslishtei whispered in my ear, “Attack finished. Count five before resuming.”

After what I’d seen, I planned to count to ten. Not the rest of my team, though—they’d readied their spears and charged in exactly at the count of five, even Tegen. While I’d watched mesmerized, he’d gotten ready.

“Not the lungs,” I yelled, and saw Haol shift the angle of his attack just in time.

His spear pierced through Borba’s solar plexus, right next to Mumu’s. Both Tegen and Teila went for the hips. Then I rushed to catch up, and had the satisfaction of seeing my spear penetrate through Borba’s neck.

An air burst threw us away, but the damage had already been done. The concerted attacks had been enough to weaken Borba significantly. Yuki, glorious Yuki, used the opportunity to cut through the lung to slip into Borba’s meridians.

The monster tried to stand, but couldn’t get his body to do what he wanted with our spears embedded in him. He howled like a dying animal, and he grew even thicker, as more of the peltwei were drained.

Borba air burst after air burst to keep us away. At the same time, he scooted backward toward the closest bridge. We kept pace with him, though we stayed out of reach of his claws. My team had their knives in hand, but I was unarmed, so I grabbed one of the spears that had been propped up along the walls.

Yuki hurried, slashing indiscriminately as they dashed through his meridians, but the qi was even worse now that they were inside his system. Borba was able to make it to the door outside before Yuki finally reached the dantians. Each was a nightmare of black and bloody qi, like three large, cancerous masses taking over his body.

They were a riot of air, bone, and nature qi. Yuki cut through them all, straight down the center of each dantian. Then they spun, their qi tendrils like scythes, separating the dantians from the meridians.

Borba deflated and fell back. He tried to get back to sitting, but his arms would no longer hold him up. Haol got around him to pin them down, and the rest of us moved in.

My team was out of qi. Still, their strikes were all deadly—kidney, carotid artery, and femoral artery. As for me, I had plenty left for Spiral Pierce and Bear’s Strength, so I drove the spear’s point into the empty socket, through the bone, and into the brain.

Borba shuddered. Incredibly, he tried to reach up, and managed to grab hold of my spear’s haft. Then, with one last shake, he went still.

“Quick,” Mumu said, her voice hoarse. “Grab his light before he turns.”

Teila was the closest to his chest, and her hands shook as she cut into it. Darkness, like coal dust, billowed out of the wound, and she grimaced when she reached through it. A tense couple of seconds passed as she felt around inside, then relief as she pulled out a bloody core the size of a walnut.

Yuki’s voice was exhausted. ‘Come get us, we don’t want to eat any more of this qi.’

I let the spear go and sat beside Borba’s head until Yuki could make their way out of his body. I noticed then that the Siphons on Mumu and Tegen hadn’t dissipated, so I dragged myself over to clear them away. Their wounds had also begun to seep, but a quick Healing Water closed the lacerations.

As Yuki and I worked, no one moved. My team just sat beside the body as they recovered from the fight—both physically and emotionally. We’d just put down someone who’d once been a brother of the hunt. Teila sobbed quietly, while Tegen sighed repeatedly. Haol and Mumu held hands.

We’d done it. Borba was dead.

23

Grim Resolutions

A Camouflaged Hutwa poked his head up from the stairwell. When he saw that the fighting was done, he padded up the rest of the stairs. I was still working to undo the Siphon affecting Mumu, so I ignored him approaching us. From the way Mumu tensed, I gathered that she sensed him too.

Hutwa looked over the scene, taking a moment to examine the spears still embedded in Borba’s body, before retreating to the stairwell. A moment later, Aslishtei strode up the stairs and went to the peltwei in the center of the room. Hutwa, now visible, followed her, as did the other bodyguards.

Only three of the peltwei remained alive, their spirits attached to their bodies. The rest had either already departed or hung around as ghosts, afraid and confused.

Aslishtei knelt beside the still living. “Go get the master healer,” she instructed, and Hutwa ran to the stairs. I caught the scent of Nature’s Spring and saw her put her hands on the smallest of the children.

“Haol, go,” Mumu said.

He hesitated, searching her eyes first. Whatever he saw must’ve satisfied him, because he nodded and jogged over to where Aslishtei was. A moment later, he was casting Healing Water on the children. The healers’ bodyguards tensed, but a quiet word from Aslishtei kept them from interfering.

Long minutes passed, during which I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that Borba was dead. The fight’s aftermath had left me dazed, both because it had been a mad scramble and because of the strangeness of the magic involved. Aslishtei’s snake had been scary enough, but the cutter hawks and butterflies… they gave me the willies something fierce.

For a while, Borba had seemed impossible to kill, yet the proof that he wasn’t invincible lay sprawled on the ground in front of us. And his ghost was forlorn and weighted down by thick, dark bands of guilty anger. Streaks of hunger ran through him as he stared down at his body.

It was an important lesson: There would always be someone or something stronger. This wasn’t the time to reflect on what had happened, though. The intensity of Borba's gaze didn’t bode well.

“You need to move along,” I said.

He turned to search for where my voice had come from, but didn’t appear to see me yet.

“Borba’s ghost,” Mumu said. It hadn’t been a question, just a weary statement.

“It’s bad,” I replied.

“What can you do?”

“I... need a few minutes to get myself together.” My hands no longer trembled after every battle, but I still required time to recover from the fight’s full-throttle ferocity. More importantly, my heart was disturbed by what we’d done. Intellectually, I knew it’d been necessary to kill Borba, and I’d hardened myself for the doing of it, but the aftermath had left me shaken.

“We can’t do this again,” I said. “No more forced mules.”

“Yes. Our Inleio was wrong to punish Borba so.”

It hurt Mumu to say those words, but she did, and I’d never been prouder of her. Relieved too—I didn’t know if our lodge could take something like this happening again.

Just as Yuki finished with the Siphon in Mumu’s arm, Vorkut and Hutwa showed up, trailing a line of land soldiers. The cavalry had apparently arrived, and a couple of them split off to check on both us and Borba’s body.

I was too young for my joints to creak, but I felt every inch of the effort to stand up and talk to them. Mumu waved me off, though, instead gesturing toward the crowd gathered around Aslishtei. I nodded before making my way over.

The three children lay on the ground, still afflicted by Borba’s Siphon. They ranged in age from about seven to thirteen years old. All the other peltwei were dead, their faces frozen in agony.

Vorkut knelt beside the oldest of the still-living children. His hands hovered about a foot above her body, and they were covered by a thin film of mana and qi—the mix hard to sort out. I caught scent of nature, spirit, and some earth too.

“You say it is a parasitic qi of some kind?” he asked Aslishtei.

“A function of the criminal’s talent,” she answered.

Vorkut turned to Hutwa. “Go call Brother Ekthei. His specialty is qi-based illnesses.”

“I can help too,” I said. “I’ve been cleaning up after Borba for a couple of days now.”

The master healer scowled at me. “You must not. This work is the province of the Healer’s Lodge.”

“The child speaks of trees and animals previously marked by the criminal’s talent,” Aslishtei clarified.

“Yes, that’s right. Borba was gathering power from them, so we had to cut off the supply,” I said before I tiredly sat down next to the youngest of the victims.

Sendret of the North Wind Family (Human, Peltwei)

Talents: Natural Magician

I frowned, then checked the other children. All three had damaged magic-related talents. When I went to investigate more closely, however, Makul grabbed me from behind to pull me away.

“The master said that you cannot.”

Over the years, I’d gotten better at controlling my temper—I’d certainly had enough practice while raising two kids—but I’d been through a lot the last couple of days. I had to count to a full twenty before I could turn around and calmly-reasonably-forcefully say, “Touch me without my permission again, and I’ll tear your throat out.”

Okay, I wasn’t that calm, but I was so damned tired, and the futures of the peltwei kids were at stake. In this world, talents counted for everything.

Makul tensed, ready to slap me or something, but caught himself. He’d taken the threat I’d posed seriously, and then realized that I was only a child. He relaxed his guard, which only proved that he was still young. Either that, or an idiot.

It wasn’t just me who thought so too. Haol had faded into the background when the healers had shown up, but I caught sight of him smirking a little. Even Aslishtei seemed to shake her head.

“This is not the time for petty games and politics,” she said, “but the law is the law, and the master healer is correct. You may treat yourself and your family with an approved healing ability, as well as provide emergency aid to others, but that is all. Once the injured is safe or a healer is present, then only the healer may treat them.”

“I—” But honestly, I had no clue how to follow up. Nature’s Spring was the lone exception to the rule, but that wasn’t what these children needed.

It felt stupid to restrict healing to only one group, but at the same time, I understood the need to verify qualifications. I mean, I knew that I had the foremost expert in qi inhabiting my body, but that wasn’t exactly information I was willing to share. And even if I did, it wouldn’t help, since I wasn’t a member of their lodge. That… that was the frustrating part. If I had the qualifications, I should be able to practice the art.

I was struggling to articulate an argument that would make sense to these people, when Teila came up to me. Her voice was subdued as she said, “Eight, Haol, you’re needed.”

I glanced over and saw that the spirits of both Mumu and Tegen were disturbed. “Borba appears to have damaged the children’s ability to cast spells,” I said to Vorkut.

A hint of surprise leaked onto his face. “Yes, that’s right. Their meridians are damaged. When our Brother Ekthei arrives, he should be able to tell us if they can be mended.”

I sighed, then shoved my anger down. The healers were dangerous and annoying, but they at least knew their stuff. The kids should be all right.

At the other side of the room, Tegen was on one knee, with Mumu quietly murmuring in his ear. The nearby land soldiers were in the process of searching Borba’s body, though I couldn’t help notice the sympathetic glances they sent Tegen’s way. Had I missed an injury?

I approached, and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Do you need more water?” Haol asked.

“Healing Water isn’t helping,” Mumu said.

Tegen winced as he stood. “When I circulated my qi to ease the discomfort in my body, I felt like my head and shoulders were on fire. My first thought was to try Nature’s Spring, but the spell wouldn’t—couldn’t complete. My grasp of the qi disappeared partway.”

“And I’m unable to move the qi needed for Spiral Pierce,” Mumu said. “The meridians in my arms refuse to accept it. My hope is that your... special talent may provide some insight.”

‘We ate all of Borba’s qi,’ Yuki said. ‘There should be none remaining inside either Tegen or Mumu. The only way for us to know more would be by entering their bodies, and we haven’t done so to any creature that hasn’t given their permission first.’

I feel like the connection is clear between the peltwei kids’ damaged talents and what’s happening with Mumu and Tegen. There’s an internal injury, one that Healing Water or—

“You’ve tried Nature’s Spring too?” I asked.

“I have,” Teila said.

“And I felt no benefit,” Tegen added.

“Same here,” Mumu said.

“Then I think we have a problem—the survivors over there are facing the same issue: their ability to cast qi spells appears to have been compromised. Wusta didn’t seem to be affected in the same way, but he’s dusk or maybe it’s because his meridians are different somehow…”

“I see.” Mumu sighed. “And what do you recommend for us?”

‘Mumu and Tegen don’t want us within them, so there’s only the Healer’s Lodge for help.’

“That you consult the master healer, unless you’re willing to try my special talent.” I wiggled my fingers over my heart dantian to mime Yuki working inside them.

Mumu considered her options, and said, “Then let us talk to the master healer.”

Poor Yuki, they tried to hide their disappointment, but I still felt the edges of it.

Decision made, my team headed back across the leisteila. In the few minutes I’d been gone, the children had fallen asleep. Their breathing remained shallow, like they were suffering from bad dreams, but they didn’t appear to be in pain.

As for Vorkut, he’d found a cushion and made himself comfortable. There was apparently nothing he else could do until his Brother Ekthei arrived, since the physical wounds on the children had been dealt with.

Makul stood just behind him, while Aslishtei knelt beside Sendret’s head, softly stroking the child’s feathers. They all listened as Mumu explained the situation.

Vorkut nodded along, but when Mumu got to the point where she asked for help diagnosing the issue, he said, “I cannot. There is an injunction within our lodge to refuse aid to any hunter from Voorhei until the dispute over the Healing Water spell has been resolved.” He cleared his throat. “The decree was made this morning, but know that I take no pleasure in carrying it out.”

That got us all frowning, and the repercussions didn’t bode well for our lodge.

Healing Water was great for injuries and poisons, which were the two primary threats to our hunters’ well-being, but the spell didn’t do anything for diseases, and there were only specific cases when it could help with childbirth.

I didn’t think there were currently any pregnant hunters, but that could change at any time, and apparently there’d been a deadly bug earlier in the year that’d started to get traction here in Albei before it had been caught. If something like that made its way to Voorhei... I shuddered at the thought.

“Do the alchemists have anything that can help heal our hunters’ meridians?” Teila asked into the silence that had descended.

Vorkut sniffed, but it was Aslishtei who replied, “There are elixirs to strengthen the channels in one’s body, but repair is something else entirely. Those require specialized knowledge and ingredients. I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard the alchemists are processing the remains of a golden slumber. Something like that might be able to help.”

“Oh, are they almost done?” I asked. “The slumber was harvested near Voorhei.”

“They will owe us money soon,” Mumu said. “We might be able to arrange a deal for potions to heal Tegen’s and my meridians.”

When the Alchemist’s Lodge had harvested the golden slumber, they’d offered to buy the creature outright. It’d been a tempting offer too—fourteen antaak—but Uncle Kila had interceded. He’d convinced Mumu to pay for the slumber to be processed instead.

The proposition was risky, since we were essentially betting that the deadly mushroom was worth more than the alchemists first estimated. The only way to know for sure, though, was to wait until they extracted everything of value.

Mumu was okay taking that chance—the slumber had possessed a number of potent talents, and it was reasonable to believe that we’d see a bigger bounty as a result, even if it meant delaying the sale for the season the alchemists required to safely process it.

“We should visit Kila,” Mumu continued. “He can arrange for the purchase—”

Tegen interrupted her. “Tomorrow. The team needs to rest.”

Mumu gazed down at her arm. “I don’t feel any deterioration, do you?”

“No,” Tegen said. “There’s only pain when I try to use my qi.”

“I don’t like the idea having half my spellcasting crippled,” Mumu said.

“It will likely be longer than a day to arrange for the potions,” Tegen said. “Our spellcasting will be affected no matter what we do.”

“Maybe send a messenger to Uncle Kila first,” I offered. “We can have him start the process before we meet.”

Mumu thought through the options, but they were limited at the moment unless she had a change of heart about Yuki—

“Tomorrow it is,” she said with sigh. “We’ll send a messenger asking him to meet us and to reach out to the alchemists too.”

It’s okay, friend. They’ll come around one day.

‘We know,’ Yuki said, confident. They knew their own worth. All they had to do was wait for the others to recognize it too.

We were heartsore and tired, but we still had a ways to go before we could rest. The land soldiers would no doubt want to interrogate us about the most recent deaths, and after that, we’d need to arrange for Borba’s body to be transported back to his family in Voorhei. There was also his light to deal with.

Technically, the light should be sent to his family too, but Borba’s killing spree had likely racked up several large fines, which they were now responsible for. The light would have to be sold to help pay down those debts. Even then, there was a good chance the family wouldn’t be able to pay everything, and they’d be sold into slavery to make up the difference.

Damn, damn, and damn. What a terrible end to this whole business.

And then the situation got worse—Borba’s ghost had remained fixated on his corpse this whole time, but the hunger threading through his spirit made him restless. It drove him to break free of the fixation’s grip; he looked up and spotted the other ghosts.

His attention was like a rusty-red knife slashing through the air. That drew the peltwei ghosts out from their own confusion, and several gestured as if to cast spells at him. Nothing happened, though—the magic didn’t respond to their call. Borba leapt at them.

And I intercepted, infusing spirit mana into the haft of the spear I’d borrowed. Borba was flung aside, through the nearest wall.

The land soldiers panicked, as did the healers’ bodyguards. They all drew their weapons, but Tegen’s voice overwhelmed the room: “Hold!”

“It’s Borba,” I spit out. “He’s going after the peltwei ghosts.”

He’d disappeared on the other side of the wall, so I took the time to reinforce the spear until it glowed to my spirit eyes. Tenna’s Gift, I left in place. There was no way I’d touch it with so many ghosts around.

In my periphery, Aslishtei took charge: “Clear space for him and stay out of the way. Move the children downstairs. Everyone. Downstairs.”

Well, it didn’t matter. I had Borba’s attention, which was what I’d wanted. The rest was a matter of will; we wouldn’t be fighting in the traditional sense. Assuming his ghost didn’t just run off. How would I even begin to track him if he did?

Borba smashed into my back, distending Tenna’s Gift and forcing me to take a step to keep my balance. The gift only protected the living—spirits weren’t affected—so Ikfael ended up taking the brunt of the impact.

She'd been quiet during the fight with Borba when he’d been alive, which was just as well given her condition. I’d been worried at would happen if she’d needed to intercede on my behalf again.

Apparently, I didn’t need to be concerned. The plug on my water skin was forced open from the inside, and a stream lashed out at Borba’s ghost, which caused him to flinch like he’d been whipped. Then, a needle of spirit-infused stone punched through him where his heart would’ve been. At the same time, the water whip struck, carving into his shoulder.

The ghostly vapors of his body slowly filled in the gaps, but Borba must’ve decided that attacking a spirit of the land wasn’t a good idea. When he turned to run, though, the water whip wrapped around his neck.

A moment later, Ikfael appeared beside me, her eyes intent and her paws outstretched as she controlled the water. With a gesture, the stone needle was pulled from where it’d been embedded in the wall and sent directly through Borba’s skull.

A ghostly wind blew, and I turned to see that the peltwei had managed to get their act together. The three remaining elders appeared to be collaborating on some sort of magic. I wasn’t affected thanks to Tenna’s Gift, but the remains of Borba’s face bulged.

Ikfael glanced sideways at me, the expression familiar. I could almost hear her saying, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

I took a breath to focus my will, then said, “Lay down your rage and your hunger. They will not serve you. Lay down your despair and your vengefulness. They will only weigh you down. A third time I say unto you, lay down your pain and your suffering. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

Borba resisted, his hunger driving him to cling to the world. His will opposed mine, yet it was undermined by both Ikfael’s and the ghosts’ attacks. His claws reached for me, as if to use me as an anchor, but they slid aside on Tenna’s Gift. His legs then stretched out behind him, as if he was being pulled like taffy. Drawn out more and more, until the legs faded from view, then the torso, and with a pop the rest of him disappeared into the afterworld.

There was something waiting on the other side for him, but I couldn’t gather much more than the sense of their presence.

The ghostly wind shifted directions; it spread to the walls and passed through them. I waited a couple of beats, but whatever the peltwei had just done didn’t seem to need a response from me, so I rushed to check on Ikfael. She was about the same as before—her spirit dim, though she did seem more refreshed. Taking out her frustrations on the ghost appeared to have done her some good.

“You can stop your fussing,” she signed. “Borba attacked me directly, so my retaliation was my own will acting for my own good. There was no imbalance required.”

“I was worried about you.”

“I know you were,” she signed, and patted my hand.

The peltwei ghosts approached and bowed to her. I saw their beaks move, but she just quirked her head in response.

“It's weird to me that you can’t hear them,” I said.

“The dead are different than the spirits of the land.” Ikfael side-eyed me. “I and others like me stand in between life and death, only half affected by Tenna’s Gift.”

The ghosts realized they weren't being heard, and their beaks shut in frustration. About then, the ghosts who’d scattered earlier phased in through the walls, returning to the leisteila. They held each other, and some were crying. Others looked like they were pleading with the elders.

The oldest of the elders gestured—the meaning impossible to read—and all at once, the peltwei went to sit at the tables in small groups. Then they began to talk to each other, hesitantly at first, but over time it ramped up to the level of vigorous discourse. It was genuinely one of the strangest things I’d ever seen: a room full of crow-headed ghosts talking like they were at a café.

One of the peltwei winked out; there’d been a brief sense of something spilling into the room, and then they were gone. The rest seemed to sigh afterward, and an edge I hadn’t noticed earlier eased.

The pace of chatter picked up, and a second peltwei vanished. Another stood; he looked up as if to the sky, and then jumped into nothingness. One by one, more began to blink out of existence, and each time I only caught a glimpse of the other side. It was so lively, I felt like I was watching a murmuration of the dead.

Finally, there was only the eldest left. He looked around the leisteila, then sent his gaze down the stairs to the floor below. There was reluctance in his eyes. His family was leaving three children behind.

“I know what you are thinking,” Ikfael signed, “and we are not an orphanage.”

Well, I had considered inviting them to the Glen—Bihei could also use more help around the longhouse—but these were city kids. Assuming their meridians could be healed, they had bright futures as magicians too. They wouldn’t want to live as villagers.

“Will the other peltwei families take them in?” I asked her.

Ikfael shrugged, and gestured that she didn’t know.

A couple of minutes passed just like that—Ikfael reluctant to go back into the statue, the elder peltwei reluctant to move on, and me reluctant to move period.

“How goes it up there?” Mumu called.

“Borba’s gone, but we seem to have hit an impasse with the last of the ghosts. He’s worried about the kids.”

“Thikilei remains?” The voice was Aslishtei’s.

“Uh, maybe? What does he look like?”

“A distinguished personage, regal of bearing, keen of mind, and robust of talent. He is, he was called the North Wind.”

An impressive fellow for sure, but— “Was he about your height? With streaks of silver among his feathers, and wearing a gold chain and pendant of a—”

“— star rising above a tower? Yes, that’s him.” Aslishtei came running up the stairs. “Where is he?” I pointed, and she bowed deeply toward where Thikilei’s ghost stood, her beak touching her knees.

Then, she gestured an invitation to sit at one of the tables. She made herself comfortable, and was about to speak when she noticed me still in the room. Fortunately, Ikfael had made herself scarce by then.

“If you please, this is a private conversation.”

“He won’t be able to hear you,” I said, stating the obvious.

Aslishtei’s voice was solemn as she said, “I know, but the act of sitting and talking is important on its own. He will understand my intentions. Now, please.”

“Okay, just call if you need me.” I headed downstairs and spotted my team and the land soldiers gathered. The injured kids were there too, but the healers and their bodyguards were missing.

Mumu saw me wondering, and said, “They went outside to wait. What happened with Borba’s ghost?”

“He’s gone,” I said.

Mumu looked as spent as I felt. “Then the deed is done. Our Inleio, our brothers and sisters, and our Voorhei have been avenged.”

“And the price was too damn high.”

Mumu nodded again, and so did the others on my team. We all felt it was true. Now, we just had to make sure this situation never happened again.

24

Questions and Their Answers

The land soldiers stuck us in one of the bedrooms while we waited to be questioned. We weren’t sure how long it’d be, so we rested as best we could.

The bed was a proper four-poster—the first I’d ever seen in this world. A chest at the foot contained women’s clothing, and there was a writing desk and cushion in the corner, above which a candle stone was embedded in the wall. A window also let it in some light. It looked out onto the space between residences.

We were instructed to leave the door open, and a guard stood outside. We weren’t under arrest, but the land soldiers clearly wanted to make sure we didn’t go anywhere either.

After a couple of hours, a tired-looking Aslishtei showed up to escort me upstairs to see if Thikilei was still around, which he wasn’t. The ghost must’ve been satisfied by whatever she’d done, and departed.

I asked about the injured kids, and she assured me that they’d be taken care of. Obviously, I had tons more questions, but didn’t get the chance to ask them. She dropped me back off with the rest of my team, then told us to continue waiting.

A bit later, Brother Ekthei showed up, and to my surprise that turned out to be his actual name.

Brother Ekthei (Human)

Talents: Qi Mirror, Naturally Empathic

He was a portly man in his late thirties, with droopy eyes and the hint of burn scars under the sleeves of his jacket. He frowned mightily when he saw the lot of us on the bed. It had turned out we could all fit if we were willing to get cozy.

“I should make clear that I’m not here to treat you,” he said, “but my hope is that you’ll let me examine your wounds so that I may compare them to the children’s.”

“Will you at least share your diagnosis?” Mumu asked.

Brother Ekthei thought a moment, then agreed.

The examinations lasted a good thirty minutes each—the time silently passing as we anxiously watched him place his hands on Tegen’s back and then Mumu’s. At the end, he shook his head, the same way I’d seen doctors do it in my previous life. Instinctively, my stomach sank.

“The damage is the same,” he said. “The meridians in the affected areas have been completely perforated and collapsed.”

There was a word I didn’t know, and I continued listening with half an ear as Teila explained it to me.

“And the treatment?” Mumu asked. “What’s usually involved?”

“Weeks of patching the meridians, bit by bit.”

“How many weeks?” Mumu asked, a sense of dread worming its way through her spirit. “Before the Long Dark comes?”

“For a specialist like myself, yes. For others…” He shook his head.

The dread spread through the room, and Teila gulped at the news.

“Can the injury heal naturally?” Tegen asked.

“Possibly, but it might take years, and the meridians would still retain some damage, becoming scarred.”

“The alchemists—” Tegen began.

“Do have elixirs that can help,” Brother Ekthei said. “I can confirm that, but they’re expensive—much more so than my lodge’s services—and the timing will likely be close.” He looked at us with some sympathy. “Are you both critical to your village’s defense during the Long Dark?”

Mumu nodded, but it was Haol who explained, “She is the master of our Hunter’s Lodge, the first in many years able to use both qi and mana. I can as well, but she’s the quicker study.”

“Ah, so you’re counting on your lodge’s advanced spells,” Brother Ekthei said.

“Would a... monetary contribution help?” Mumu offered. “Perhaps to further your own studies.”

Brother Ekthei nervously glanced at the door. “I cannot. The injunction forbids it.”

“The gift would be private,” Mumu said, hopeful. “No one else needs to know.”

“I truly cannot for I have already committed my services to another— Honored Aslishtei has engaged me to heal the injured children. Her family will be adopting them, and their care is now her responsibility.”

Mumu’s face fell. “There’s nothing we can say or do?”

“Make peace with the Healer’s Lodge,” he said.

But that got us all shaking our heads, and since there was nothing else, Brother Ekthei left.

“There’s still the Alchemist’s Lodge,” Haol said. “We needn’t lose hope yet.”

“There’s also the other option,” I said, gesturing to my heart. “If you decide you’re willing.”

“How long would that particular treatment take?” Tegen asked.

Yuki perked up. ‘We’ve started experimenting with one of the meridians in your little toe, but it’s too early to tell. Not weeks, we don’t think.’

“Faster than the healers,” I told the others. “But we won’t know for sure until we’ve had time to try things out.”

At that news, Haol went to hold Mumu’s hand, and they retreated to one of the room’s corners to murmur in each other’s ears. Tegen sat against the opposite wall to meditate, while Teila crawled under the bed’s covers. I was at a loss for what to do with myself, so I sat by the door to both watch the corridor and keep Yuki company.

‘We’ve let Bihei know that Borba’s dead and we’re all right,’ they said.

Thank you. I should’ve done it myself—

‘—but you were distracted. We know.’

A body wrapped in cloth was carried past the open door, followed by another and another, until all the dead had been transported down to the first floor. The scent of Borba’s qi lingered on all of them—including the last, which was soaked in it.

A land soldier, trailing behind the train of bodies, approached. “I am here to tell you that the murderer known as Borba had no possessions with him other than a ruined pair of pants, a ruined shirt, and two necklaces. The first necklace belongs to the land soldiers, and the second is a gold pendant in the shape of a salu, which we understand belongs to another family. Both will be returned to their rightful owners. Do you protest these decisions?”

Mumu and the other hunters had come to the door to watch the dead pass by. She shook her head. “We do not protest.”

“In addition,” the land soldier said, “a preliminary investigation will be held into the deaths of those murdered by Borba. Permission has been sought and approved for all those involved to questioned without the presence of their lodge master, named Mulallamu, since she is also to be questioned. Do you protest this decision?”

“Yes,” Mumu said, gritting her teeth.

“Your protest has been noted,” the land soldier said. “Each of you will be interrogated individually. Wait here until you are called.”

When he’d gone, I asked, “Is everything going to be okay?”

Mumu blew out a breath, and said, “Probably. They’ll be restricted to asking about Borba and the murders, which we can speak truthfully about. If they try for anything else, protest and demand my presence.”

After that, more time passed, but I didn’t bother to check how much, since it’d just make the waiting feel longer. Instead, I examined the construction of the bed, which turned out to have been assembled sashimono style—the Japanese method of joining wood without the use of nails. Back in my old life, I’d made a bench for the backyard in that way and had really enjoyed it. Maybe I should make a couple of pieces for Ikfael’s shrine?

The chest was made in the same way, with wooden hinges even. I was opening and closing the lid to see how it was done when another land soldier came to the door.

“Teila of Voorhei, follow me.”

Teila poked her head out from under the bed’s covers. “What? I’m first?”

“You’ll follow me. Honored Aslishtei is ready to speak to you.”

Teila glanced between her teammates in confusion.

Mumu went over to kneel so that they were face-to-face. “Just tell them what the five us of did, and it’ll be all right. Do you hear me? We’re a team, the five of us, and we take care of each other. We’ve done nothing wrong here.”

I saw Teila glance toward me. “I... yes, I can do that.”

Mumu helped her out of bed, and Teila took a moment to straighten her jacket and set her shoulders before following the soldier.

My worry must’ve shown, because Mumu came to sit beside me. She leaned to rest her chin on top of my head. “She’ll be fine, as will you.” And then much softer, in a whisper almost impossible to hear: “We’ve practiced keeping secrets, just in case. All of us have.”

“When?” I signed.

“Before Inleio died. He told us that a little devil like you was bound to cause trouble, so we should be ready.” A tear dropped onto my forehead.

“He could be wise, our Inleio.”

“Yes,” Mumu whispered back.

About half an hour later—I’d gone back to checking my Status clock—the same land soldier came for Tegen. When we asked about Teila, he said that she’d been taken to another room, where all of us would be brought afterward. It was probably to keep those who’d been interviewed from sharing the questions with those who hadn’t.

As Tegen was being led away, I remarked to my team, “The land soldiers are thorough.”

Mumu nodded in agreement. “Knight Ithia demands much from them. There are stories of other cities being much looser.”

“Money for favors?” I asked.

“Bribery, yes, and other similar practices.” She crossed her arms. “A predictable land knight is a boon, as are laws that can be relied upon. With both, a village can properly plan.”

“For things like the Long Dark,” I said.

“Yes. Our village lost two of its element-touched last winter, but we know we can rely on the land knight for reinforcements and the Soldier’s Lodge for mercenaries.” She tucked some hair that’d gotten loose from her braid behind an ear. “Our accomplishments, like the hunt for the King of the Forest and the harvesting of the golden slumber, are also safe. We don’t need to worry about Knight Ithia swooping in to steal what we’ve earned.”

“We already pay taxes on those.”

“The point is that the taxes are stable. They go up, but not in response to sudden bounty.”

“I can’t imagine the city lodges would like it if that happened. They’d protest for sure.”

“The city lodges are the city lodges,” Mumu said, “and the villages are the villages. We can’t defend ourselves in the same ways they can.”

“Which is why we’re struggling with the healers.”

“Power is a tricky thing,” Mumu said. “I know personal power—we hunters train it every day—and Kesa is teaching me about political power. Our land knight has both.”

“And she uses them on behalf of the people. That’s what it sounds like, anyway.”

Mumu nodded. “Yes, although I’m also learning that leaders—even admirable ones—are not perfect.”

Then I noticed that Haol had fallen asleep sitting up, his chin resting on his chest. When I tilted my head in his direction, Mumu turned to look and smiled to see him like that.

We sat silently, the two of us thinking our own thoughts, kept company by the light snores coming from Haol’s direction. I couldn’t help but worry about the questions being asked of my teammates and the ones that would be asked of me.

I didn’t smell any smoke, so I didn’t expect any forced truth-telling, but who knew what kinds of tricks Aslishtei had up her sleeves. Or, more accurately, in her hoops.

There was still so much I didn’t know about this world, which reminded me—

“I have a question,” I said.

“Of course you do. What is it, Little Pot?”

“I’m still confused about the details of when healing is allowed and when it’s prohibited.”

With a grimace, Mumu stood up to pace. “It’s no wonder. This is one part of the law that’s vague. Normally, a lodge’s area of responsibility is strictly enforced—do you know that word, enforced?”

I gestured for her to keep going.

“Yet there is one exception: almost any ability or talent can be used to aid one’s family, as long as no harm comes to others. That’s so people can build their own furniture without getting in trouble with the artisans, hunt their own deer and rabbits to feed their families, and so on. Now, if they try to sell these things and they aren’t members of the right lodges, they’d get in trouble.”

“And that includes healing,” I confirmed.

“It does. And the lodge is another family—you’ve heard the saying before, yes?”

I nodded to show that I had.

“The saying is more than an expression of the bonds between us. There is legal weight behind it, although the ones doing the weighing are the land knight’s representatives. That means different villages and towns will have different interpretations of the law, but for us, we can safely heal our lodge brothers’ and sisters’ wounds with Healing Water.”

“This is the vagueness you mentioned earlier,” I said, clarifying. “So, just to be clear, I can safely, legally cast the spell on Billisha and Aluali.”

“Yes.”

“As well as on you and anyone else from the Hunter’s Lodge.”

“Yes.”

“But not anyone else outside of those two families.”

“No, you can, but only until the spell’s fate is determined. At this time, Healing Water is in the formless space between lodges. Its usage is frowned upon by the healers, but there’s nothing illegal about it. Yet.”

“You don’t think we’ll win the case,” I said.

Mumu shrugged, but her spirit was covered in doubt. “The healers are powerful.”

“But until then, people can seek out learning the spell, though. Is that right?”

“Yes, but they risk the healers’ ire, at least until the spell’s fate is determined.”

“A fate we’re hoping will be similar to Nature’s Spring,” I said, “so that anyone with the ability to learn the spell can use it however they want.”

“Which is only possible for two reasons,” Mumu replied. “Healing Water’s origin is a beneficent spirit of the land, and there’s no way to abuse the spell or accidentally cause harm. No specialized skill, talent, or knowledge is required except for the ability to use mana magic.”

“That’s why the healers hate it,” I said. “It would cut into their profits.”

“And their power,” Mumu clarified. “Truthfully, the chances of that happening are slim. Knight Ithia is much more likely to assign the spell to one lodge or the other.”

“So either the healers or the hunters will get access to Healing Water, but no one else.”

“You understand. The difference is that our lodge won’t brand people and exile them if they use the spell. Our punishments are not so extreme.”

That… that isn’t entirely true, I thought as I sat in the house of the family murdered by Borba. But I got her point.

“Just to be clear though: if the healers win, then someone exchanging with Ikfael for the spell would become illegal.”

“No, the exchanges with spirits of the land are outside the law. What would be illegal is the seeking out of Healing Water in the first place.”

“Because that implies an intrusion into the healers’ area of responsibility. Okay, I got that. What about if someone already knows the spell?”

“Then they’d need to curtail its use to family only.”

“And if they broke the law flagrantly, they’d have to leave the village? They'd go out into the woods to set up—what was it called—a mender’s hut?”

“That’s true, but where did you learn this?” Mumu asked.

“From a woman named Heicata, the hunters’ master in Voorsowen. She plans to trade with Ikfael for the Healing Water spell.”

Mumu closed her eyes and sighed. “The situation is tricky, since the spell is being contested; she risks much depending on how openly she plans to use the spell. I understand her decision, though.”

“Mmm. Me too.”

Mumu sat beside me once more and we fell into silence, my thoughts circling around what I’d just learned, and her spirit restless with her worries. Briefly, I checked on Ikfael’s statue, but the otter appeared to be sleeping. Being one with the stone drained her in a way I’d never seen before.

My actions roused Mumu from her thoughts. “Can I ask? How is Ikfael doing? Has she recovered from protecting you?”

“A little,” I said, “but her spirit’s so dim. I need to give her more gifts.”

“We can arrange for the other hunters to do so too,” Mumu said. “We’re all grateful she saved your life. The village can also make a special offering—”

Suddenly, a land soldier came to the door asking for Haol. Mumu went over to wake him, and whispered in his ear a bit before he left. As he passed by, I noticed his ears were red.

“What’d you say to him?”

Mumu’s smile in response was a small one, tired and fragile. “Only that I’d make sure to reward him for putting up with my behavior for the past few days.”

“I take it things are going well between you and Haol and Dena?”

Mumu blushed, the heat rising from her chest up her neck and onto her cheeks. “The two of them are very sweet and attentive. It will be a good marriage.”

I smiled to see her so bashful. “It’s wonderful to be in love. If Haol gets ahead of himself, though, you come see me. I’ll give him a talking to.”

I didn’t think Haol would—he was a good man—but sometimes marriage did funny things to people, so I wanted Mumu to know she could count on me to intercede if necessary. I’d been through a lot in my own marriage, and had seen many others succeed and fail around me.

“Make sure you establish who is responsible for what early on,” I said, “and that’s especially true for anything related to money. You’re saving, right? Please tell me you are.”

Mumu looked at me strangely, and I realized I’d gotten carried away—my advice was incongruous with my eight-year-old body. I couldn’t help myself, though. It really was important for Mumu, Haol, and Dena do those things. A nest egg early on could mean the difference between a family financially surviving tragedy and bankruptcy, except there was no such thing in this world—people too far into debt were sold into slavery.

“Sometimes, Eight, you are very odd.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “But what I do and say comes from love.”

Mumu watched me, her eyes on mine. “I see that.”

“Good, I’m glad.” I paused to give her time to change gears. “Now, about saving money—”

“Yes, yes, I am already doing so,” she said, laughing despite herself.

“And if Haol starts acting up?”

“Dena and I will take care of it ourselves,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “We will put him in his place.”

“Not too much, I hope. The key is finding a balance in the relationship—”

“Little Pot—”

“Yes?”

“I am not taking marriage advice from an eight-year-old!”

The land soldiers left me for last, but eventually it was my turn to be questioned. They’d commandeered the house’s dining room, with Aslishtei seated at the head of the table and the blue songbird hopping about in front of her, almost like he was alive. The summon wasn’t really, though, at least not according to the System.

How does that even work? I wondered. And why did the undead hold onto some talents, but not ghosts? Spirits like Ikfael had them, after all. There seemed to be a blurriness in the line between what was considered alive and what was dead.

‘Would you like to focus now?’ Yuki asked. ‘We are about to be interrogated.’

I pointed out to them that the room lacked smoke, and we’d only have to worry about the songbird. They, in turn, pointed out Little Red, who was perched atop a large cabinet in the corner and watching the proceedings.

‘We don’t know what that one does. She can see the Camouflaged, but what else?’

I frowned at that, and checked around the room. All I saw were a couple of land soldiers standing at the ready, and a tired-looking Aslishtei. She had a bowl of something hot and steaming cupped in her hands.

Watching her drink was fascinating—the way her beak went into the bowl and her head tilted back to let the liquid slide down her throat. No one else in the room blinked when they saw it, just me.

A cushion had already been set out for me a couple of places down from Aslishtei, so I made my way over to sit down. She looked like she’d aged five years since I’d first met her.

“It’s been a hard day, hasn’t it?”

Aslishtei nearly choked on her drink. “You are very strange boy, do you know that?”

“Funnily enough, you’re the second person to tell me that today.”

“I suspect I won’t be the last either.” She paused to examine me, her dark eyes glinting. With a sigh, she said, “Tell me about the attack on your life last night.”

“What?” I asked.

“Someone shot you with a crossbow and used poisoned ammunition. Your fellow hunters told me about it, but I’d like to hear your version of events.”

I’d prepared myself to talk about Borba, not the assassination attempt. She’d caught me by surprise.

“All we know,” I said, “is that the poison resisted healing, and that a bunch of healers showed up very quickly afterward. Given the danger, we didn’t stick around to track down the assassin, but we know it wasn’t Borba—he didn’t know how to use a crossbow.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Me? No, but Mumu is, and I trust her on it. Are you investigating?” I asked in turn.

“Of course,” she responded. “Keeping the peace is part of a land soldier’s responsibility.”

“The healers showing up when they did was suspicious. Are they the ones responsible? The other hunters think that it may be one faction within their lodge setting up another—causing trouble for them and me at the same time.”

“I think,” Aslishtei said, “that you ask many questions, when I should be the one doing so.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “My reputation—”

“—is that you are a Little Pot of Questions, I’ve heard it,” Aslishtei said. “And I’ve also looked over your spirit map—yours and all the members of your team. You are quite the talented group, aren’t you?”

“The best in our lodge,” I said, puffing out my chest.

That was a bit more ego than I usually allowed myself, yet when I checked my Status, it was clear of any negative conditions. No sign of forced truth-telling at all. I must’ve just been tired. The time spent waiting had helped, but it hadn’t exactly been restful.

“You have no other insights into the identity of your attacker?” Aslishtei asked.

“Just that they had a way to hide themselves.”

“Unfortunately, that describes far too many assassins, bodyguards, and mercenaries to be of help.”

I shrugged. What was, was, and no amount of wishing would make a difference. “If we learn anything, we’ll share it with you.”

Aslishtei quirked her head in response. “That is a lie.”

My eyebrows rose. “It’s not. I’m telling the truth.”

“Another lie.”

“I have every intention of cooperating with the land soldiers.”

“That’s true,” she said, tapping her bowl in thought. “You may have the intention, but the reality underneath is different. You are lying to yourself as much as to me.”

My jaw dropped. I’d known the blue songbird had had a role in the proceedings when I had been interrogated the previous day, but that statement from Aslishtei—it meant that she… she could detect lies even without any other magical supports. “Your songbird can tell? That’s amazing!”

“His name is Bright Blue, and you don’t deny it?” Aslishtei asked.

I shrugged. “It’s your magic—you’re the only one who knows how accurate it is—but the truth is, yeah, I probably want a bit of revenge on my own. That’s natural, don’t you think?”

Aslishtei’s eyes grew darker. “A bit of revenge, you say. That’s a dangerous game. Should the North Wind’s children seek it for what was done to their family?”

I’d been enjoying the back-and-forth banter, perhaps treating it more like a game than I should’ve, but that question was a sudden punch to the gut. I looked down—my hands were mostly clean, having been splashed with water after the fight, but some blood had gotten under the nails. I wasn’t sure whose it was. Probably a mix of Borba’s and mine, to be honest.

“I hope not, but I also wouldn’t blame them,” I said finally. “Hopefully, the children will take comfort in knowing the murderer is dead. That they’ll find a way to move on with their lives. Brother Ekthei mentioned that you’re adopting them.”

“Yes, my family will care for and nurture their talents.”

“Will you love them too, like they’re your own?”

Aslishtei opened her beak to reply, but then closed it. She started and stopped again, then finally said, “The ways of the peltwei are strange to outsiders, but perhaps you will understand—the children are already kin. By adopting them, we are recognizing that truth and bringing them deeper into it.”

A worry I’d tucked behind my heart eased. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Mmm.”

“A strange boy indeed.” Straightforward, as if letting go of any pretense, she leaned forward to ask, “Do you know if your Borba had any prior dealings with Thikilei or his family?”

“None,” I said, doing my best to match her tone.

“Is there any reason you can think of that would cause him to target them?”

“Only that he was likely attracted to their magic. The more powerful his victims, the more he could steal from them.”

“That’s my suspicion too. From what we’ve gathered, your Borba didn’t attend the wedding itself. Instead, he’d been passing by just as people arrived, marking some of them then, and later sneaking back to infiltrate the house. Then, when some of the neighbors called the healers because they felt ill, the area was quarantined.”

I nodded along as she spoke, and it all made sense to me. It’d just been bad luck that had done the family in—for Borba to have been nearby to notice them. Well, bad luck and Voorhei’s decision to turn him into a mule.

“Any thoughts on what I’ve said?” Aslishtei asked.

“Just that you’re probably right. The healers are addressing the Siphons afflicting the neighbors?”

Aslishtei nodded. “Yes, now that they know it’s not a disease requiring further study.”

“I’d help if I could.”

“I know.” With a sigh, Aslishtei leaned back, propping herself up with her hands. It was a surprisingly informal pose. She gazed at Bright Blue, as if in thought, and then asked, “We’re done, but before you go, is there anything you’re not telling me that I would be interested in?”

Yuki’s qi waved to get my attention. ‘She’s trying to surprise you. That’s the pattern she’s been using for her questions. Think carefully before you answer.’

“I imagine there are lot of things,” I said slowly. “For example, the lodge’s secrets, but I’m not allowed to share those. I suppose there are more personal things, like my favorite foods and color—that’s blue, by the way—but those are only relevant if we become friends. I’d like us to be friends, which might be shocking given how we first met, but I find you and your magic intriguing.”

Aslishtei stared. She turned to Bright Blue, but I knew what she’d find: everything I’d said was true, including the desire to become friends. Of course, I was upset about the forced truth-telling, but everything else about her and her magic was fascinating. I decided to not let a grudge get in the way of getting to know someone amazing. Life was too short for that, even if you got to experience two of them.

“You really are the strangest boy,” she said.

“Which only makes me more interesting,” I said with a smile.

“What I’d like is for you reveal what you are hiding,” Aslishtei said.

“Nothing related to the murders committed by Borba. And if you’re trying to get at anything beyond that, I’m pretty sure my lodge master needs to be present, since it’s not related to the investigation. I want to be your friend, but I’m not going to roll over for you.”

Aslishtei made an annoyed sound—a kind of clacking of her beak. “Then at least tell me what mix of darklight to silverlight you use, as well as the creatures who contributed.”

I’d been paying attention, yet that question still caught me off-guard. “What? Why do you want to know?”

“Your mana is visible to me,” she said, gesturing to Little Red, “and I can see the second set of meridians in your body. That’s a powerful way to stray. Did it pass down through your family?”

Was that Yuki she’d spotted? If so, I had to be extra careful choosing my words: “My family never strayed, never used darklight, and neither have I.”

“That’s impossible,” Aslishtei said, checking Bright Blue. “Unless this is a dusk trait in your family from long ago resurfacing?”

“I don’t understand what you mean by that,” I said, confused.

“In other words, a talent.” Aslishtei leaned forward, and her voice turned vehement. “Have you never questioned where they come from? It’s darklight that does it—twists us out of shape, as well as our children, our children’s children, and so on. Over time, we adapt and make the changes our own. All the impossible things our talents do for us, it was because an honored ancestor strayed from the path. Straying from the path is the path. That’s the secret the world speakers won’t tell you. We stray, and we bring darklight’s gifts back to humanity. That is the sacred role all the stray peoples play.”

Her words shocked me, but I immediately protested: “Not all talents. Some come from what we do and practice in life.”

“Yes, that’s true, but the extraordinary ones? They come out of the dark.”

“I… I don’t know what to tell you.” My thoughts scattered as I tried to wrap my head around the idea that darklight wasn’t inherently bad. Could Aslishtei be right? She certainly seemed convinced, and there’d been evidence of ritualized darklight practices among different peoples. Those practices had to provide some benefit besides easy leveling. Yes? No? Maybe?

“My family,” I started, running the through the words in my head first, “has stories of our ancestors practicing magic. In them, the practices came from the spirits of the land, and were then passed down from generation to generation.”

“Your Mulallamu says that you are an orphan. That you have no other family left.”

I licked my lips. “I’m the only one on this world, yes.” We were moving onto dangerous ground, and my mind raced as I tried to anticipate her next questions. I also resolved to cut the interrogation short if I saw no good way through.

At this point, we were well outside the bounds of the murder investigation. My continued participation was purely to build good will, but I’d abandon it if that was what was needed to protect my secrets.

Aslishtei stroked her beak as she considered me, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she sighed and said, “Have you given thought to your marriage prospects? There are several youngsters in my family that may be a good match for you.”

“I... what... no?”

“From what I saw of your spirit map, the potential within you appears to be latent, but perhaps we can bring it out.”

“I’m far too young to think about marriage,” I said.

“No one is too young, not when valuable talents are at stake.” Aslishtei looked at me like I was something that’d caught her eye. “But you needn’t worry—we’re not like the villages, marrying as soon as we’re able. You can wait until you’re twenty or even twenty-five, but any longer and people will talk.”

“Is—is that so?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“You will need to meet the children. I will make the arrangements.”

“But I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“You want to be my friend? Be their friend first.”

“And if I say no?”

Aslishtei’s expression turned sly. “I have taken your measure, Eight the Little Pot of Questions. You will not say no.”

It was about four in the afternoon before I was released to join my team. They had been waiting for me in another of the bedrooms, and quickly gathered around to make sure I was all right. Which I was, just a little discombobulated from the multiple weird turns the interrogation had taken.

So, I briefed my team on what had happened, and their concern turned to scowls by the end.

“She is trying to steal you,” Haol said.

“You have to say no,” Teila said, jumping in.

“Of course he will,” Tegen added. “Our Eight is loyal to Voorhei.”

“I. Am. Too. Young.” I glared at my friends, trying to drive the point home. “I’m too young to decide. Too young to even think about it.”

“But others will be thinking about it,” Mumu said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed all the times you’ve been invited for tea and corn cakes?”

“I’ve noticed,” I said, sullen. “And started declining when I realized what was happening. People eventually stopped asking.”

Teila’s spirit flared a bit at that, but she didn’t say anything.

Tegen sighed. “None of us have wanted to intrude. We know how much you appreciate your privacy...”

Haol continued from there, “But if you need advice—”

“Can we please not talk about this now?” I interrupted him. “I mean, it’s weird. We killed Borba only a few hours ago.”

Tegen put a hand on my shoulder. “Death is death, and life is life. One will not stop for the other.”

“But this is a conversation that can wait,” Mumu said. “Let us at least get away from this place first.”

“To the inn?” Tegen asked.

“The lodge,” Mumu said, then raised a hand to stop his protests. “The grandmaster has probably already been informed about what happened, but we shouldn’t wait to give our own report.”

None of us could argue with that, so when the permission to leave came, we headed downstairs. Looking outside, we saw that the sky was dark with clouds and a wind had kicked up. It was drizzling, which apparently didn’t deter any of the people from standing around gawking. A cart was out front, stacked with the wrapped remains of the dead.

We had about an hour of daylight left. “Maybe we should wait until dark?” I offered. “We’ll be harder to spot.”

“I don't want to wait,” Mumu said. “Haol, Eight, and Teila will use Camouflage to exit through the front, while Tegen and I will sneak out the back. We'll all meet at the nearby plaza, then make quick time for the lodge. I’ll lead, but Eight will take the tail, so that he can make sure we’re not followed. Understood?”

We all nodded, then put her plan into action. The light rain would’ve given those of us in Camouflage away, but the wind was really gusting, and when we moved quickly, it seemed like our movements were part of it.

Briefly, I noticed Little Red perched on a window sill, watching us leave.

25

Introducing a Complication

Mumu led us along a different path than before—to circle around and approach the Butchery from a different angle. We ran southeast, then shifted to striding briskly with our hoods down, exactly like everyone else on the street.

The increasingly bad weather didn’t deter people from doing business; it just sped them to their destinations. Even the thick, brooding clouds overhead weren’t a deterrent. Our determination, our hurriedness, and even our tiredness all fit in, and no one gave us any trouble.

The wind and rain began to pound as we approached the border between the Geista and Taakta districts, and we switched tactics to once more split the team into our pretend groupings: Tegen and me at the fore, Teila in Camouflage, and Haol and Mumu trailing behind.

We were all flagging, but the storm and the desire to see the day end kept us moving.

The architectural styles changed over the course of a couple of blocks, and the buildings’ footprints grew. Money showed in their decorations: the reliefs carved into the exterior walls, the gilt around their doors, and the quality of the glass in their windows.

I even saw walls around individual homes for the first time—practically manors, except they kept the Mesoamerican aesthetic in their decorative features. Gardens peeked through their gates, and I also spotted statues among the greenery.

Our raggedy group didn’t fit in with the surroundings, but there were enough people passing through the district that we weren’t too out of place. I was just noting how many of them appeared to be heading in the same direction as us when a couple of notifications popped up on my Status:

City Survival has increased from 0 to 5.

City Survival has increased from 5 to 6.

My heart warmed to see a new skill, as well as the numbers going up—that feeling never got old. A brief glance showed my survival skills looking nicely robust.

Survival

- Caves 3

- City 6

- Forest 10

- Ocean 3

- Stealth 11

As we strode through the city, I caught glimpses of Albei’s pyramid through the gaps between buildings. We appeared to be heading in that direction, and the buildings grew taller and closer together as we approached. Also, the traffic on the street increased, as did the number of shops. All of them were still open, their wares lit by the warm glow of candle stones.

Then, our street ended and dumped us onto a thick offshoot of the Albeitsoot. As I panned right, I was presented with a wide, open plaza dominated by a monster of a pyramid—bulky and burly—like the people of Albei had built their own mountain.

Brightly painted murals of animals, both normal and gigantic, covered the slopes. Each of the facings was supposed to have its own primary color—red, black, white, and yellow, and we were approaching from the yellow side. The facings also had entrances embedded halfway up with lit candle stones along their paths. People of all kinds entered and exited, from the richly dressed to the freshly-bloodied.

If the pyramid wasn’t enough to stop me in my tracks, there was also a massive fortress to the east, its proud walls rising high enough to block the interior from view. It had been constructed of the same stone used in the city walls.

Both structures were beasts, and while the fortress appeared the more practical of the two— unadorned and plain—it was just as imposing. Incongruously, a swath of parkland lay behind it.

Like in the Butchery, the plaza was etched in swirling, abstract designs, but I didn’t sense any mana. Only rainwater flowed through them. For now.

Tegen gently pulled me along to get me walking again. “Another time,” he said, “when we have fewer worries.”

“Yes, you’re right, but it’s just so…”

Tegen smiled wearily to see me caught so off guard. “It is, isn’t it? Just so.”

The pyramid was at the city’s center, and getting to the Butchery was just a matter of circling around the plaza, then heading west-ish. I kept looking behind me, though, searching for gaps in the buildings that would let me see the pyramid again.

The Hunter’s Lodge greeted us with the scents of wet leather and blood, the murmurs of hunters passing the time as they waited for the weather to clear, and the warmth of bodies together in an enclosed space. Our cloaks spilled water all over the entryway, but someone had gone to the trouble of laying down a layer of gravel so that no one slipped. When I crunched over it, though, a group of nearby hunters laughed.

“This is the boy’s first time,” Tegen called in their direction. “He doesn’t know better.”

A hunter yelled back: “Then it’s his teachers who didn’t prepare him and need to pay.”

Tegen sighed in response. Then, he pulled a taak from his pouch, and tossed it into an empty gourd that’d been placed out of sight of the door. “Next time,” he said to me, “if you see dirt, gravel, or fallen leaves on the ground while inside the lodge, walk silently over them. If you don’t, you owe a taak to the hunters’ drinking fund.”

“I don’t know that last word,” I said.

“It means a collection of money used for a shared purpose.”

“Ah, okay. And that’s a rule?”

“A tradition,” Tegen said, shaking his head, “and one highly prized by some. It’s a ridiculous thing to do after a day like we’ve had, but”—he shrugged—“it gives people joy. That’s enough to keep the tradition going.”

No one else on my team gave a taak to the fund, so apparently I was the only one who’d made noise. Under other, more normal circumstances, I would’ve crossed back over to do it properly, but I was too-god-damned exhausted to even think about it. Besides, I spotted Susu’s team waiting for us. They’d taken over one of the room’s corners with their stuff, and Susu herself looked annoyed. She sported a black eye to boot.

“Before anything else,” Mumu said, striding up to her, “Borba’s dead.”

That took the gas right out of Susu's hunters; Mumu told the rest of the story straight and without any embellishments, covering everything from the tough fight with Borba to the deaths among the peltwei. The hunters listened with hard eyes at first, and then concern when she described the encounter with Brother Ekthei and his assessment of the damage to her and Tegen’s meridians.

“We’re fresh,” Susu said, “so we can go now to the Alchemist’s Lodge on your behalf. Or should that be Kila?”

“Kila first,” Mumu said, nodding. “He’ll know how to get the best deal from the alchemists. Before you go, though, tell me what happened with the grandmaster.”

“She had us wait,” Susu complained, “while she coordinated with the land soldiers. We haven’t left the lodge once today, except for Ahlrein who went to get our packs. If not for that, we’d have had nothing to do.”

“Not nothing,” Mumu said, gesturing toward the black eye.

Susu grimaced. “That was my temper getting away from me. We... ah... ran into some old friends: Banan and Kuros.”

“The hunters who helped with the King of the Forest?” Mumu clarified.

“The hunters who ran, you mean.”

Mumu sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Susu said, puffing up. “As if I’d let cowards be.”

“You have to be careful, Susu. The two of them are dawn, and who knows about the rest of their team.”

“That’s the thing: there was no one else.” Susu leaned in as if sharing a secret. “Word is, they’ve had a run of bad luck since coming back to Albei—their hunts coming up empty. The gods must be unhappy with them, and because of that no one’s been willing to step into Otwei’s old spot. I hear they’ve been hiring mercenaries instead, running through them like I run through taak.”

“So Banan and Kuros were alone when you came across them?”

“We caught the two early in the morning as they were leaving the lodge. Get this—they were the ones being hired this time, by a mercenary crew who needed extra scouts for a quick escort job. The bastards looked so smug, especially that Kuros. As if mercenary work is anything to be proud of.”

“You—” Mumu started.

“Sucker punched him.”

I’d been listening with interest, having had my own run ins with Banan and Kuros, but— “Wait, you just attacked him out of nowhere?”

Susu blinked at me. “Hunters ambush—that’s what we do. Otherwise I’d never have landed a blow on the slippery bastard.”

Oh yes, of course. Silly me, I thought, and heard Yuki snickering in the background.

Mumu asked, “What punishment were you given? Do I need to talk to the grandmaster?”

Susu grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving. “It’s fine. It's fine. I got talked to, is all.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“And you’d be right not to,” Ahlrein said, grumbling.

“Show me,” Mumu said, then had to repeat herself when Susu turned mulish.

Susu opened her jacket and lifted her shirt to reveal a bluish-purple mass of bruises over her belly and chest. “Kuros must’ve swung five times for every one of mine.”

“She's not allowed to get it healed either,” Ahlrein said. “That’s the punishment.”

“You shut up,” Susu replied with a glare, but he gestured rudely back at her.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Mumu said. “Is there anything else we should know?”

“Just that we haven’t heard from Dura’s team yet, but they’re due soon.”

“Then I’ll report to the grandmaster and let her know about the hunt’s results.” Mumu stood up, and this time no one stopped her. Nine pairs of eyes looked on with sympathy as she tiredly walked deeper into the lodge.

Susu sighed and gestured for her team to gather their things. “All right, you children, it’s about time we were of use.” She winced getting her own gear in order, and gave us each a nod as she left.

Nothing happened for a long while after. I kept myself busy people-watching, and occasionally folks came over to chat with Tegen and Haol. Then, I must’ve nodded off, because the next thing I knew, Dura and his team were there reporting that they hadn’t had any luck tracking down Salu’s necklace.

Haol started the story of Borba’s death, Miri came over to check on Teila, and I was out again.

Haol shook me awake. “I’m sorry, Eight, but you'd said that you have to cook Ikfael a meal every night.”

Behind him, Tegen talked through a doorway to someone out of view. We were back in our room at the Ten Point, with Teila asleep beside me.

Did they carry me? The rising embarrassment dissipated, though, when I saw it was dark outside. I forced myself upright. “Wha? What time is it?”

“About three hours past sunset,” he said.

I confirmed the time with my Status clock: 7:42 pm.

Haol looked apologetic. “We weren’t sure what you needed for preparations, so we talked to the innkeepers and arranged the use of the kitchen.”

I rubbed my eyes, and a little jolt of Dog’s Agility from Yuki helped bring my thoughts up to speed. “They won’t mind me in there while they’re still serving?” I asked. “Wait, where’s Mumu?” The rest of the team was present, but not her.

“We told the innkeepers you’d just need a fire, and paid for the privilege. As for Mumu, she’s still at the lodge; we were told not to expect her until late.”

“I hope everything’s okay.”

“The peltwei Borba murdered—they were important.”

“Borba’s family will be sold into slavery for sure, then.”

Haol sighed. “It’s worse than that. There’s no way the worth of the two families can compare. It’s likely the survivors will seek to redress the imbalance.”

“By going after our lodge?”

Haol nodded. “The lodge is another family, after all.”

“This is going to be expensive, isn’t it?”

“The family head, Thikilei, was Wind-Touched.”

“Ouch.”

“As were three others, all dead now.”

I gasped. “Oh my god.”

“Indeed,” Haol said.

“Aslishtei didn’t mention any of this.”

“No, she didn’t. Mumu learned about the family’s reputation from the grandmaster.”

“Well, damn.” My mind raced, wondering at what game Aslishtei was playing. It was pointless to think about, however, since I didn’t know enough about her or the situation.

Her spirit had been difficult to see through, but what little I’d glimpsed wasn’t confrontational. There’d been grief, which was to be expected, and something else—a desire to carry on, maybe?

“Be easy, our Eight,” Haol said, patting my shoulder. “Trust in Mumu. She’s young, but wily. She’s found us a path every time we’ve needed her to, and she’ll do it again.”

“Oh, I have faith in Mumu, and my team too,” I said. “It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”

The kitchen was busy, but the staff was respectful, even in the middle of what was clearly a late dinner rush. At first I thought it was our taak that eased the way, but once they started asking questions about Honored Ikfael, I knew it was because the meal was for a spirit of the land.

She and I had both been through a lot over the past few days, so I wanted to make us something special. And besides, cooking was a good way to get my mind off my worries—to quiet my uselessly spiraling thoughts.

The inn’s pantry was well stocked with a variety of vegetables, dried herbs, and spices, but nothing I hadn’t seen in the area before. Then, the staff handed me five squab as a gift for Ikfael, which got me thinking.

I picked out some yellow squash, dried tomatoes, wild onions, masa, a tub of butter, a jar of cream, and a pitcher of milk. The dish was simple enough: I cut up the squab and pan fried them first to build up some color, then added the rest of the ingredients, along with some salt and ground chilis. The masa and butter I held back, though, and while the meat cooked through, I combined them to make dumplings.

The trick was to indent each one with your thumb, so that they looked like little saucers; doing so helped the dumplings to hold onto the sauce. Once they were ready, I added them to the pan, and soon enough my chochoyotes with squab in cream soup was done.

Yuki wanted a taste, so we quickly merged consciousnesses, and—Yes, so delicious, warm, and comforting. We smiled in pleasure, then once again separated so that I could finish up.

I poured the soup into a serving bowl and made my way out, thanking the staff as I went. Smiling inwardly, I politely ignored them gathering around the pan afterward for a taste of their own.

Cooking has increased from 6 to 7.

Two skill gains in one day? It’d been a while since that had happened last.

Ikfael licked her bowl clean—her third one. I still had a bit left in mine, so I handed it to her. Without even looking, she grabbed the bowl and slurped up the contents.

“You like that, do you?”

Ikfael nodded with her head still inside the dish. Then, when the last of the soup was truly gone, she let the bowl go and fell back onto a cushion. It was a great feeling to see your food enjoyed like that. Ikfael had always been an appreciative eater, so it was a pleasure to cook for her.

She and I had the room to ourselves, my team renting another room to protect our privacy. It also didn’t hurt that Dura and a few others stood guard outside our door.

Physically, Ikfael was looking okay, but her spirit was still uncomfortably dim. The soup had helped a touch, but what she really needed were more exchanges and more gifts. The plan for the next day was to follow up on a treatment for Mumu and Tegen, but I resolved to do some shopping too. There were bound to be things Ikfael would want in a city like Albei.

I had an antaak with me, and would also be due a share of the golden slumber’s sale when that went through. Plus, I thought, I can take up a collection among the other hunters. I’m sure they’d be willing to support her wellbeing.

First, though: “So this healer named Brother Ekthei said that Mumu’s and Tegen’s meridians were perforated. He refused to treat them, because of the nonsense with the Healing Water spell, and the two of them won’t even think about Yuki, which leaves us with the alchemists. That’s what we’ll be doing tomorrow: visiting their lodge. You wouldn’t happen to know any spells or rituals for fixing meridians, do you?”

Ikfael stretched to crack her back. Once she’d collapsed back into a heap, she signed, “I don’t. If the problem was a pollution or poisoning of the meridians, I could cleanse them, but it sounds like Yuki already took care of that.”

“What about examining them? You could at least confirm the healer’s diagnosis.”

Ikfael nodded. “Yes, that’s doable.”

“What would you want in exchange? This is important, so feel free to make it expensive.”

The otter eyed me, then sighed. She rubbed her face, reluctant-considering-surrendering. “Their spears. I’ll take their spears in exchange, and they’ll have to come to the Glen’s defense at least once.”

“And that will help you?” I asked.

“You can never have too many spears,” she said, “or allies when in need.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Ikfael sniffed. “That’s the answer you’ll get. If you want more, you’ll have to exchange for it.”

I perked up. “Can I? Can I get more information about how trading works for spirits of the land?”

Her paws hesitated, then signed. “No. Not at all. I misspoke.”

That was a lie, clear as day—I saw it in her spirit—but the fact that she didn’t even want to tell me about the possibility meant that the cost would be prohibitive, either for her or me. Which was fine. I’d let it be. For now.

As the food coma set in, I filled her in on the rest of what had happened, and then turned the conversation to lighter matters. There was only so much worry a person could stand.

Then, later, Ikfael listened to my side of the conversation when I called my kids. Yuki was in Aluali at the time, and he relayed the conversation on that side of the connection. The mood turned mixed again—there was relief that none of the hunters had died, but also anxiety about the injured ones and the looming troubles for the lodge.

I tried to lift the mood with a couple of puns, but my lack of vocabulary in Diaksh undermined the effort. That was why no one laughed. I’m sure of it.

After that, we checked in with Snow, and she let us know that she’d killed a lone coyote snooping around the area. Otherwise, the Glen had been quiet. The only real trouble was that Felix and Oscar had discovered the shrine, so they kept sneaking off to explore the construction site.

The little devils.

Mumu got back at around two in the morning. I was asleep at the time, but woke up when she looked in on Ikfael and me. I used the opportunity to let her know about Ikfael’s proposed exchange, but she was too wiped to even think about. I’d never seen her eyes so dead.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

She just nodded in reply. Then, after she’d taken a step away: “Ah, I almost forgot. Kila sent word. He’ll meet us downstairs two hours after dawn.”

“Good. Now go to bed. There’s nothing else you need to do tonight.”

“All the hunters will meet before then,” she said, lingering. “For a meal and to plan ahead—”

“Mumu, as much as I’d love to know the outcome of your talk with the grandmaster, it can wait. Go. To. Bed.” Then, I muttered, “Haol’s probably pining for you.”

That won me a small smile. “He probably is, isn’t he?”

“Most assuredly.”

Mumu came back to pat me on the head. “Our Eight, ever a blessing.”

“Rest well, our lodge master. You deserve it.”

“We all do,” she said.

And that was that. Ikfael planned to stay up, but for me the night was truly well and done. Any more worries, any other troubles would just have to wait until the next day. Er... later in the day... in the morning, which wasn’t that far off.

I sighed, turned over, and went back to sleep.

26

A Reunion

The next morning, Mumu gathered the hunters for a briefing, but most of them had already heard some version of the previous day’s events, so it was just a matter of setting the record straight and filling in details.

A somber relief swirled through the room as the hunters listened, shifting toward worry once Mumu got to the part about her and Tegen’s injuries. That turned into dread when she spoke about what she’d learned from the grandmaster.

Apparently, the wind-touched among the North Wind’s family dead had been an important part of the city’s defenses—helping to pass messages and spread aerial poisons. Their loss wouldn’t truly endanger the city, but it would be felt.

The matter was almost guaranteed to be brought before the land knight, so the grandmaster had recommended that Mumu not leave the city for the time being. The hunters rumbled in response, but Mumu told them that the hunt was over, their responsibility to the lodge was complete, and they were free to return home at any time. All lodge obligations were postponed until further notice; the only instruction was to travel quickly and report to the village’s leadership as soon as they arrived in Voorhei.

After the briefing, Teila's parents cornered Mumu to say that they trusted the lodge master to keep their daughter out of the hands of the land soldiers or anyone else who might want to steal her away from Voorhei. Teila was meant for great things, yes, but those things would be in Voorhei. Although, if any opportunities arose to spur her growth, then Mumu was fully authorized to pursue them. Mostly, though, they made it clear that Teila wasn’t to be sold into slavery to pay the lodge’s debts.

Which was inconceivable to me, but probably a real danger in some places. Not in our lodge, however. Mumu vowed to do everything in her power to keep it from happening to any hunter, not just Teila. That satisfied the two, and they left to join the others in getting their gear in order.

As the time for their departure approached, the rest of the hunters on Dura’s and Susu’s teams came over to say their farewells. Mostly it was chitchat, but a number of them shared how much they appreciated hunting with Teila and me. They were grateful for all we’d contributed to the expedition.

The fight against the cutter hawks, in particular, stood out as a harrowing-yet-triumphant experience. Our lodge had striven against difficult odds and been victorious, with several hunters earning increases to their skills or growth of their talents.

Then Dura came by to gather the departing teams. He of course had to say goodbye too—and got teary-eyed in the process. Funnily enough, Susu interceded by stepping in to keep him from picking up Teila and me to hug us. It was actually sweet of her to protect our dignity as hunters like that. Pointless, given how boisterous hunters tended to be, but a kind thought nonetheless.

Eventually, though, the preparations were finished. The hunters returning to Voorhei cast a few lingering looks back our way, and then they left. The meeting room felt so much bigger and emptier without them.

One of the inn’s staff stopped by our room to let us know that Uncle Kila had arrived and was waiting for us in the dining room downstairs.

We found him sitting on a cushion, ignoring a steaming cup on the table in front of him. His eyes were far away in thought as he tugged at one of his trademark muttonchops. He wore a dark blue jacket over gold-colored pants, and on his head was a brimless, close-fitting woolen cap in a gold-and-blue diamond pattern.

Standing nearby was a bodyguard armed with a spear and sword. A quick look showed:

Grasset Durgasson (Human)

Talents: Cool-Headed, Trained, Situationally Aware

He had what appeared to be three solid talents useful to a bodyguard, though nothing else about him stood out. He leaned down to whisper to Uncle Kila, who locked onto us as we walked downstairs.

Uncle Kila rose and immediately gestured to the innkeepers to bring more drinks. “Oh my dearest hunters of Voorhei, you have my sincerest condolences. When your Susunou shared the news of Inneioleia’s death, I was heartbroken. He was a great man, a truly great man.”

“Thank you,” Mumu said, her voice rough.

“And the other deaths were a tragedy too, of course. I only wish you’d come to me sooner; I would’ve done my best to help.”

“Well, we could use your help now,” I said.

“And so you will have it, young Eight!”

Uncle Kila paused as a server brought over a tray of cups—the drink was a green juice that’d been scalded, tasting of almonds and cardamom—and he waited politely for us to taste it before continuing. “I’ve been tracking the alchemists’ wares closely, and they don’t currently have anything resembling an elixir to heal damaged meridians. However, that doesn’t mean they’re incapable. Their lodge is treasure trove of recipes and formulas, so we only need to discover if such an elixir is unavailable due to a lack of demand or a lack of ingredients.”

“Then let’s go over there to ask,” I said eagerly.

“Already done, my boy—I sent a messenger last night, and the lodge is investigating their records. They should have a response for us by this afternoon, tomorrow at the latest.”

Mumu frowned. “That long? I worry about the risk to our Eight.”

“Ah, yes. The assassin.” Uncle Kila was usually pretty good about keeping his thoughts tight within his spirit—being a merchant, he was no open book—but occasionally I saw steel under his friendly exterior. “This soldier is named Grasset, and he is sworn to my family. There are also another two outside, hired from the Soldier’s Lodge at my own expense. They are yours for as long as you stay in Albei.”

That was a far bigger gesture than I expected from him. Sure, the eilesheile I’d been selling him was generating a lot of income for me—I was rich by village standards—but it shouldn’t have been that big a deal for a decent-sized merchant family like his.

Maybe it was his relationship to Mumu that had triggered it? She’d been acting as a front for my dealings with Uncle Kila, but she also had her own. “Mumu’s an important client, eh? And you want to protect her precious apprentice.”

“She is, yes, but you are also your own bright talent. I would be a fool not to invest in you too.”

That was surprisingly direct, and it felt good to hear. I mean, he was a merchant, so his tongue was practically coated in honey, but still—

‘His Charm attribute is probably high,’ Yuki observed.

You think he’s playing me?

‘Yes… but we like him anyway.’

Me too, I thought. He’s been fair in all his dealings.

To Uncle Kila I said, “Thank you. I’ll accept your generosity.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d say so. Now, I have two pieces of good news: the first is that the alchemists predict that they will finish processing the golden slumber in three days.”

“That is good news,” Mumu said. “Any updates on the quality?”

“Oh, yes. They now estimate that the mound was over three centuries old.” Uncle Kila’s eyes shone as he smiled. “We should be able to get between forty and fifty antaak for it. Maybe more.”

That was way more than we’d expected, and unlike with the kalihchi bear, we’d be splitting the shares between a lot fewer people—just the hunters who’d come to my rescue at the Evil Mushroom Meadow.

Kila had arranged the logistics for the safe retrieval of the golden slumber, as well as negotiating the deal with the alchemists, which was why he was taking a thirty-percent cut of the deal. That still meant a profit of twenty-eight to thirty-five antaak, though, so I could expect my own share to be somewhere between seven and nine antaak.

I asked, “We don’t know how much it will cost to treat Mumu and Tegen, do we?”

He shook his head. “Alas, we don’t. It will depend on the rarity of the ingredients and the degree of effort required.”

“They’re going to try to win back their money,” Mumu said.

“Of course they are,” Uncle Kila said, laughing, “but that is why you have me.”

I couldn’t help but add: “And why we’re paying you such a handsome fee.”

“That too,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Definitely a high Charm, I thought.

‘Uh huh,’ Yuki said. ‘But is he wrong?’

Nope, that’s one thing I learned in my previous life: competent professionals are expensive, but they’re worth every penny.

“For the second piece of good news…” Uncle Kila rose and gestured for us to follow him. He led us out the front door to where Agath and Moon stood guarding the entrance.

I yelled in happy surprise and ran up to them both. As Moon patted me on the head, Agath smiled, and said, “It is good to see you too, young Eight.”

The last time I’d seen the mercenaries was when they’d come through Voorhei on an expedition west of the village. They’d spent the night and had a nice dinner with my family. We’d talked about the hunt for the kalihchi bear, of course, but also what life was like in the Soldier’s Lodge and a bit about Dolbec’s Rock too. The brother and sister were incredibly fond of children, and it had been heartwarming to see them with Billisha and Aluali.

Man, but did we have to cook a lot of food, though. Moon and Agath knew how to eat.

The dolbecs were kitted out, each wearing brigandine and carrying shields, spears, swords, and daggers. I took a quick look with my Status camera to see if anything had changed:

Agath of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dawn)

Talents: Sturdy, Shieldmaiden, Enduring, Loyal

Nascent: Skilled

Moon of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dusk)

Talents: Stalwart, Natural Skirmisher, Adventurous, Battered Loyalty

Nascent: Spear and Board

Something must’ve happened since the last time I’d seen them—Moon’s loyalty had changed from Loyal to Battered Loyalty. Unless that was a symptom of him being dusk? A degeneration, as it were. He’d been the first dusk person I’d met who hadn’t been corrupted by darklight—the only negative so far seemed to be his inability to speak verbally—but maybe it was only a matter of time.

Moon wasn’t a friend exactly, but he hadn’t run during the fight with the kalihchi bear. He’d stuck it out through something hard and terrible, and that meant something to me.

“When I went to the Soldier’s Lodge to recruit help for you,” Uncle Kila said, “I remembered that you’d worked together before and thought you’d enjoy doing so again.”

“You’re a clever man,” I said.

“Cleverness in business is second only to trust, and I value both highly.” A faint smile crossed his lips as he watched the reunion. “I'll note that these two both possess loyalty-based talents, which is important given the situation you’re in.”

I nodded. During their visit, we’d talked about talents too, and how a thread of comradeship-bonding-teamwork ran through all dolbecs, just like their size and toughness. Those traits were all passed down from the first Dolbec, the one their people had been named after.

Uncle Kila continued, “There was a third mercenary who expressed interest in the contract, but our friend Agath here shared that the person in question might not be a good fit.”

I looked at Agath, the question on my face.

“His name is Mikal,” she said, “and he is Otwei’s birth brother.”

“She had a brother?” I asked. That was news to me—Otwei had not thought or even dreamt about her family once while Yuki had been monitoring her. At the time, I’d figured she was an orphan like so many others, but in hindsight, it’d been a bit unnatural.

“She was a stump,” Agath said, clarifying. “Her family followed the way of the soldier, so when she was found to possess hunter talents, they arranged a valeisten instead of keeping her.”

My reaction was instant distaste—the valeisten was the ceremony I’d used to adopt Billisha and Aluali, but it was also the vehicle by which families could sell their kids. The whole thing was based on the belief that some children get lost along the way between death and birth and are accidentally born to the wrong parents. They took on the physical characteristics of their birth family because that was their passage into the world, but their spirits recalled who their parents were meant to be.

The evidence for that was ironclad—the World Spirit. In other words, a child’s talents would always point to their “real” parents after they’d been “accidentally” born to the wrong family. The valeisten was supposed to be a way to correct that mistake.

I had been pleased at first to hear about the ceremony. It made the adoption process for Billisha and Aluali simple, both legally and culturally, but then I’d learned the full extent of its use, which had led to a weeklong argument with just about everyone in Voorhei.

The effort had been wasted, though, and it’d provided my first real clue that people understood talents differently than I did. To the people of Diaksha—or at least the part I’d found myself in—talents were essential markers of where you came from, who you were, and where you were intended to go in life.

Agath shifted her shield to a more comfortable position before saying, “Otwei’s father is known to be a man on a rigid path. When he learned her first talent was Tracker, he found no use for her and chose instead to reunite her with her true family.”

“Even though scouts and soldiers are related,” Moon signed, shaking his head.

“Otwei never spoke about either family,” Agath said. “We only learned of this Mikal after he approached us, having heard that we’d worked with her. He’d been hoping to meet this once-relative of his, but alas, we only had bad news for him.”

“Is he going to be a problem for Voorhei?” I asked. “Otwei died in our employ.”

The dolbecs looked at each other, bits of spirit floating easily between them. “We doubt it,” Agath said. “Mikal seemed mildly curious at best. However, we asked Kila not to hire him as a precaution and to limit the number of uncertainties.”

“So how is this going to work, then?” I asked. “We’ve been splitting up when walking around town so as to not be instantly recognizable, but with three guards tagging along, we’re going to be really easy to spot.”

Moon grinned, looking sly. “We thought to dress you up like the young master of a wealthy family, and Agath and I would be your bodyguards.”

“If your hunters are willing,” Agath said, “they can join Kila’s guard as floaters. Do you know that word? They’ll pretend to be unassociated, but will be traveling with us to keep watch for trouble and intercede if needed.”

She nodded to Uncle Kila, who handed me a leather bag. “I have a nephew about your size. Some of his clothes are inside.”

“But me? A young master? That’s funny.” I chuckled, but everyone just looked at me. “Well, I suppose I do have a bit of money now.”

The jacket was a deep blue brocade stitched with stylized chliapp lions in gold thread. Putting it on was like slipping into a cool-yet-comfortable room. I’d have to ask Bihei how much one would cost to make—it looked and felt expensive. At least the pants and shirt were more ordinary; they used good wool in whites and dark browns. Still, from the quality of the stitching and the clarity of the colors, I could tell the clothes were also well made.

When I stepped out into the hall, Haol jeered and called me a preening songbird. I laughed, then told him to shut up.

Outside, Moon and Agath waited for me, and there was no one nearby whose spirits indicated any out-of-the-ordinary interest. I got some looks because of the jacket, but they were tinged with envy more than anything.

From the across the street, Grasset gave me the all-clear, so I started toward the Geista district, with Moon and Agath a couple of steps behind me. My team had already dispersed along the way ahead of us. A glance back showed Grasset slipping into the flow of traffic farther back.

The plan was to visit a smith who could repair my stilettos and also replace the knives I’d gifted to Ikfael. Agath recommended a place called Goost and Pleik’s, so that was our first destination. Then, later in the afternoon, we were due to join Uncle Kila for an appointment at the Alchemist’s Lodge.

In any case, the trip was uneventful. The shop, on the other hand, was a wonderland of weapons, and carried swords, polearms, knives, and hammers in a bewildering array of sizes and configurations. I even spotted a chain-whip combo that would’ve fit right in on the set of an 80’s ninja flick. And of course, there was a section devoted to ranged weapons—from bows and crossbows, to throwing spikes and something that looked like a kpinga. I’d seen one of the African multi-bladed throwing knives at the—was it the British Museum? Pretty sure that’s it.

Unfortunately, the smiths who owned the shop were out, so I didn’t get a chance to meet them in person. I had to talk to a journeyman instead to purchase four new knives: two hunting blades for me and two stilettos for Ikfael.

All the knives were Level 1, using a 70-30 mix of silver and darklight. The shop took pride in the fact that all their weapons were enchanted to at least that degree.

Honestly, the experience was hugely instructive. I got to see with my own eyes the impact of leveling up weapons. For example, Level 1 blades kept their edges longer and resisted chipping. Level 2 could be honed to an extraordinary degree without endangering the weapon’s integrity. You could pound a Level 3 blade with a hammer and it still wouldn’t break. And so on.

I also learned that Level 2 cost an antaak extra, while Level 3 was three of the small gold coins. I decided to ask about the magic dagger I’d traded to Ikfael for access to mana magic, and the journeyman estimated that it was probably Level 5 and worth about twenty-eight-and-a-half antaak. Wow. Just, wow. And yet I had no regrets. The access to magic the dagger had afforded me was worth every taak.

Finally, I arranged for replacement handles for my bone stilettos. One would be walnut, the other hickory, and both would include an illustration burnt into the wood of an otter’s face. The cost was an eltaak each—not cheap, but it was something I wanted. The price also included a rush fee so that they’d finish the work in a couple of hours.

While we waited, we found a nearby café to hang out in. The outdoor seating was tempting, but it was safer inside, so that was the option we went with. It also gave me the chance to close my spirit eyes and rest them for a time. It was like escaping from a loud, boisterous party, the sudden quiet almost dizzying.

Agath and Moon were on duty, so they didn’t eat, but I ordered the Triple Special—a terrine layered with roast javelina meat, a javelina ham, and javelina bacon. That was topped with grilled potatoes and then covered with a white gravy of some kind. Pork three ways—how could that be wrong? It couldn’t, that was how.

Unfortunately, the meal was spoiled halfway through when a nisaak couple ignored my bodyguards and sat at a nearby table. They weren’t bad people, just terrible gossips, and all they could talk about was the massacre of the North Wind’s family and how it was a bunch of hunters from a village called Voordeit responsible.

There’d been rumors at first it was a disease, and that had caused a near panic, but fortunately, the Healer’s Lodge had assured everyone that wasn’t the case.

The rest of the terrine was tasteless after that, but I ate it anyway. A hunter learned to eat when they could.

27

Negotiations, Expected and Unexpected

After lunch, I picked up the knives from the weapon shop. My young-master disguise didn’t let me string them across my chest, so Agath had to carry them for me, including the bone stilettos. I was pleased with how the hilts turned out, the artisans having used Ikfael’s figurine as a model.

It felt wrong not to be armed, however, so after a couple of blocks, I reclaimed one of the new hunting knives to hang it from my belt. Given the rough nature of the city, that seemed appropriate enough.

After that, we made our way to Taakta, which was the financial and business district. The flow in animal and plant parts moved most strongly through this part of Albei. Some were immediately turned into finished goods, while others were shipped to other cities where demand for animal and plant exotic parts was high.

The Alchemist’s Lodge was located south of the city’s pyramid, at the edge of the park adjacent to the land knight’s castle. The building was an imposing four floors tall and as wide as a warehouse. On top, the roof was dotted with more chimneys than I could count from the street. Smoke streamed from them, but there was only a faint medicinal scent in the air.

From the stories I’d heard, I expected the smell to be much worse, but apparently the alchemists used magic to reduce the danger of pollutants reacting with each other, which in turn helped with not stinking up the neighborhood, similar to the Butchery.

A couple of large double doors stood open, and inside it felt like a train station with a wide-open lobby complete with polished tile floor, wood paneling on the walls, and stained-glass windows. A bank of clerks was set to one side, and people queued in lines to talk to them.

Uncle Kila met us by the entrance and walked us to another set of doors at the far end of the lobby. My bodyguards and I drew some looks as we went, but it wasn’t anything more than idle curiosity at seeing a wealthy customer getting special service.

And it was indeed special—the next room had rich carpets on the floor, silk-covered cushions for seating, colorful paintings on the walls, and a pot of tea smelling of spiced walnuts steaming in the corner. A young man in white-and-gold robes had me sit, but asked for my bodyguards to wait in the lobby.

The attendant faded back, but only for the few minutes it took for my team to join me in the reception room. Then, the attendant left to announce our arrival. Kila had already arranged things, so all we had to do was enjoy the tea while we waited for the lodge’s representative.

Time passed as we waited. The tea tasted exactly like it smelled. The paintings were portraits of men and women in gold-and-white robes. I showed off my new knives, and Teila expressed interest in seeing Goost and Pleik’s weapon shop for herself. She’d had to stay outside the whole time I’d been shopping.

In all, the wait was about half an hour when the door to the lodge’s interior finally revealed a woman in alchemists’ robes. She was in her thirties, with a heart-shaped face and bushy eyebrows. A thin stream of yellow spirit energy wove around her like a snake made of smoke.

Ereinwa the Alchemist (Human)

Talents: Her Chemical Romance, Sensitive Senses, Tolerant, Hidden Wastrel

Before I had a chance to think about her talents, Ereinwa plopped down on a cushion. “I’m sorry for the delay, but the analysis took longer than expected.”

Uncle Kila took her informality in stride. “You have good news, I hope.”

“Yes and no,” she said. Her eyes were distracted as she glanced at the rest of us. “There is a treatment available that’s almost assured to work, but it requires a series of three different elixirs, each of which containing rare and expensive ingredients.”

Mumu couldn’t help asking, “How rare and how expensive?”

Ereinwa looked apologetic. “Very and very.”

“Numbers please,” Kila said.

“Seven antaak per person for the full course of treatment,” Ereinwa said as she massaged her knuckles, not seeming to realize she was doing it.

“Need I remind you,” Kila said, “that our Mulallamu here is the one who supplies the alchemists with eilesheile? If she is no longer able to safely traverse the wilderness...”

Ereinwa said, “We, of course, value highly this relationship. The eilesheile has been a great boon, and so we are willing to reduce the cost to six and half antaak per person.”

“What if we were to source the ingredients ourselves?” I asked.

She frowned. “We'd never allow it. The formulations of the elixirs are secret.”

I’d never encountered the word for formulations before, but the meaning was obvious from context. And honestly, I understood the need for trade secrets. It was just that six and half gold coins was a lot.

“We heard that golden slumber might help,” I said.

“I can’t comment on that,” Ereinwa said—yet the thread of yellow surrounding her spirit contracted.

Haol leaned forward. “What about the time needed for the treatments? How long would it take?”

Ereinwa nodded. “A sensible question. We estimate five weeks to source the ingredients, and another two for the creation of the elixirs. Once the first is drunk, you must wait a week before the second, then two weeks before the third.”

“That’s ten weeks total,” Tegen said. “A hundred days. The Long Dark will have come and gone by then.”

“Will we be able to cast our spells partway through the treatment?” Mumu asked. “If so, then we can still manage—”

Ereinwa shook her head. “Any active qi use before the treatment is complete will cause the elixirs to ignite inside the meridians, damaging them further. Perhaps irreparably.”

Damn it. There was another unknown word. I gestured to Teila, asking for help with the definition, then I cringed once the meaning became clear.

My team asked about pausing the treatment partway, about options for speeding it up, and about anything that might help restore Mumu and Tegen’s spellcasting before the Long Dark, but there were only roadblocks in response to each question.

It was, of course, good news that their meridians could be healed, yet the timing was horrible. The village was counting on both Mumu and Haol for the Long Dark. The two of them had access to some powerful area-effect spells now that she was lodge master and he’d redeemed himself, but those spells depended on them being able to use both mana and qi. Without her in the game, our firepower was halved.

We were in the lodge’s fancy reception room for a good while longer, with Uncle Kila steadily whittling down the cost of the treatments. He got it down to five and half antaak each, which Mumu could certainly afford. Tegen too, although it’d completely wipe out the bounties he’d earned from both the kalihchi bear and golden slumber.

Speaking of which, it was impossible not to notice how the yellow thread woven around Ereinwa’s spirit resembled the slumber’s influence. The faintest whiff of honey and ginger emanated from it.

She had the Sensitive Senses talent, so maybe she was vulnerable to it? Tolerant probably offered some resistance, but what about Her Chemical Romance and Hidden Wastrel? Did they help or hurt in this situation?

“Um, about the golden slumber—” I began.

Once again, the snake-like thread contracted around Ereinwa. “As I said before, I cannot comment on its usefulness.”

“I understand that. No, what I was wondering was when you'll finish processing it.”

“Four more days, maybe five.”

“We’d heard that it was supposed to be three,” I said.

Ereinwa looked aside. “These things often take longer than expected. If it’s the money you’re worried about, we know enough now to set a valuation for the refined slumber components.”

“Actually, I was thinking about selling the processed slumber elsewhere,” I said, deciding to add a new variable into the negotiations. “I’m sure we can find a better price at one of the coastal cities.”

Neither my team nor I were thinking any such thing, but Ereinwa didn’t know that. Her attention drilled into me, while the snake around her spirit constricted strongly. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

I at least knew my manners, and clapped twice. “I am Eight, a hunter of the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge and apprentice to Mulallamu. I come to you as the one who found the golden slumber.”

“I see.” Ereinwa rubbed at her knuckles, and I noticed her eyes dilate slightly. “Our lodges are allied, but business is business, eh? It would be a shame if one affected the other.”

“That’s not my intent at all,” I said. “What I want to know is how much you crave the slumber.”

“Crave? That’s a strange word to use.”

“Not from what I can see,” I said.

Ereinwa frowned. “Are you suggesting I don’t know my craft?”

“I’ve experienced the power of the golden slumber’s addictiveness firsthand, and know how even the slightest touch can be debilitating.” I reached over and gently moved her hands apart. There was a slight discoloration on the left’s middle knuckle. To my spirit eyes, it shimmered honey-gold.

“Hunters should focus on hunting,” Ereinwa said. “There’s nothing accidental in what I do.”

“So you purposefully exposed yourself to the slumber?” I asked in disbelief. That stuff was just too powerful-horrifying-delicious. Under its influence, the effect on my attributes had been—ah, it’d boosted some, though, hadn’t it? And if there was a way to control the negative effects...

“We must test as part of the refinement process, and I’m the best at it in the whole lodge,” she replied. “My talents are unrivaled in that regard. You may not know it, but I have four and am not even dawn yet.”

That may have been true, but I’d met enough functioning addicts to recognize the signs, even without the peek I’d taken at her spirit.

“I believe you, but just in case it’s ever helpful, there’s a spirit of the land near Voorhei who can perform a cleansing ritual. She was the one who cleared the golden slumber from my meridians.”

“That won’t be required.” Ereinwa waved my words away. “Now, if we can be serious, let’s arrange for the slumber’s sale, as well as the treatments for your Mulallamu and Integnei. We are all busy people.”

Well, I’d tried, and a seed had been planted. Maybe she’d take advantage of the offer one day.

Leaning back, I listened as Uncle Kila negotiated the final price for the golden slumber. He really was quite good—always friendly, but not afraid to reference my earlier threat of taking the sale elsewhere. The only hitch in the negotiations was my demand to keep the silverlight portion of the slumber’s core. I couldn’t actually afford to buy out my team’s shares of both the silverlight and the darklight.

The alchemists estimated the core to contain almost two thousand points of silverlight and over eight thousand darklight. The amounts shocked me, and I learned they represented a decent chunk of the slumber’s overall value.

In the end, the total sale price was forty-four antaak. That was for everything except the golden slumber’s silverlight. Minus Kila’s cut, it came to thirty-one antaak for ten people, of which my share was about seven and a half antaak. None of which I’d get to keep.

The slumber’s silverlight was going to cost me nine antaak, effectively wiping out the bounty and everything I had on me. At least this time I didn’t have to borrow too much from my teammates—just a handful of eltaak to make up the difference.

“When will the silverlight be ready?” I asked.

“The core’s been stabilized for weeks,” Ereinwa said. “I can get it for you now.”

After she'd left, I passed over all my money to Mumu, including the antaak I had strapped to my back. I felt a bit naked afterward, but I reminded myself that the money was being put to good use.

While we waited, Mumu and Tegen debated the treatment for their perforated meridians. The timing was thorny, and to my relief it sounded like they were seriously considering Yuki as a solution. I hoped so anyway.

Ereinwa came back about twenty minutes later carrying a wooden bowl. Inside were four walnut-sized pieces of shimmering silverlight. The color looked a bit duller than usual, but she assured me it was the result of the stabilization process and wouldn’t impact the silverlight’s efficacy.

That was another new word. Efficacy.

My stomach fluttered in anticipation. There was so much potential present in the silverlight—I felt the desire for it in my belly.

I licked my lips and glanced around the circle of people watching. My teammates looked excited on my behalf. Even Ereinwa watched with interest.

“I’ve never seen so much absorbed at once,” Tegen said.

“There was the kalihchi bear’s core,” Mumu said.

Teila practically vibrated. “What are you waiting for? Go on! Go on!”

“Here goes—” But before I touched the first piece, the silverlight dissolved into a vapor that streamed directly into my hand.

All around me was a desolate plain. The sky was tobacco-tan and hemmed along the bottom by mountains, like a wide skirt. A dry breeze swirled my hair.

I smelled the color green, then turned to see a field of grass behind me. Slowly, as if time didn’t exist in the place, the field expanded inch by inch. As I stood there watching, I thought that maybe in a year or two, it’d likely reach where I stood.

As I walked toward the grass, I noted the pale, bleached bones embedded into the ground. Somehow, I knew they were catalysts for the field’s growth, their essence leached to feed its expansion.

The ground dimmed as a cloud passed overhead, the whole valley going dark. It wasn’t a cloud, however. Looking up, I saw the underside of the Deer God as he crossed over me, disinterested as always.

There was the feeling of eternity all around me. Of the cycle of life and death. Of lingering in the world long enough to see through both.

I opened my eyes to find Mumu looking down at me with concern. “Everything all right?” she asked.

My meridians felt like scalding water ran through them, and Yuki was casting Cold Snap just to get the air-aspected mana running through me to cool them down. My skin cycled back and forth between frosting and defrosting.

The two of us worked together to brake the mana and qi speeding through my meridians. It took a good ten minutes, however, before I felt normal again.

I had a couple of notifications, but first I had to reassure my team. “That was intense. There was even a hallucination, but I’m all right now.”

Mumu helped me sit up. “That can happen, or so I’ve heard. It’s particularly true if there’s a relationship between the hunter and the hunted.”

“Ah, you’ve mentioned it before: light is more effective when it’s absorbed by the person who killed the beast.”

“Because their souls are linked,” Mumu said.

“Well,” Haol cut in. “Don’t keep us waiting. What did you gain?”

The two notifications read as follows:

2,151 silverlight gathered. 1,936 absorbed.

Poison Arts increased from 4 to 5.

I now had 5,844 total silverlight, and only needed 906 more to reach Level 5. In fact, if I had just another five antaak, I could buy my way into becoming dawn. Although it’d be much more satisfying to go on another big hunt.

There were additional changes besides the ones listed in the notifications. When I checked my Status, I saw:

Attributes

Strength

9 (10)

Constitution

10

Agility

10

Intelligence

15

Wisdom

15

Spirit

16

Charm

11

Luck

13 (14)

Free Attributes

0

My Spirit had been 15 (16), but absorbing the silverlight had helped the attribute complete its growth. And my Luck was now 13 (14), meaning I was on my way to gaining a new point in the attribute.

I’d never had that happen from absorbing silverlight before, but I knew it was possible. Just like with skills, if the path was paved with hard work, light could trigger an extra push.

The news thrilled my team. Teila danced, and the rest sang for me, clapping along with the words to create the beat for her. Even amid the lodge's troubles, no matter what anyone else said, we continued to grow.

That night, I gifted Ikfael with the two stilettos I’d purchased from the weapon shop. I thought it was a nice touch that we both now had a pair each, and her spirit glowed as a result. Not as much as I had hoped or expected, though, and it was becoming clear to me that one person’s gifts weren’t enough. The whole village might need to contribute.

I cooked dinner for her—a frittata with mushrooms, greens, and venison sausage—and watched her wolf it down. I shared in the meal too, just to keep her company. My belly was full, however, from an earlier meal with my team.

They also watched Ikfael eat, although much more wide-eyed than me. The otter had gotten used to having them around while she was in the figurine, and she told them not to bother with making other sleeping arrangements.

Mumu was already a regular visitor to the Glen, and the others had all proven helpful or interesting in one way or another. Honestly, I also wondered if she’d just gotten bored and wanted additional company. So Knight Otter didn’t make an appearance, and Ikfael came out as herself instead.

We stayed up late talking and telling stories. Mumu and Haol even danced, which we sang along to. I didn’t know the words at first, but they were simple enough to remember after hearing them a couple of times. That led to more songs, and it warmed my heart to see my friends all getting along. Ikfael especially seemed to find something special in the camaraderie. It was sweet to see.

If only they’d accept Yuki, everything would be perfect.

It was late by the time the adults fell asleep. And even though Ikfael had snoozed all day inside the figurine, she was still tuckered out by the impromptu party and managed to sleep some more. It was only Teila and I awake at the end. The day’s excitement hadn’t quite let us go yet.

Teila rolled over and, fingers twisting around each other, she asked, “Eight, would you like to try kissing?”

She was nine, and would be turning ten after the Long Dark. That was how ages worked in this world: everyone was considered a year older after surviving it. Still, we were too young, and I told her that.

“Then when?” she asked. “What’s the right age?”

I thought back to my kids and the troubles Helen and I had weathered when they were teens. Confidently, I answered. “Twenty-five.”

“That’s so old!” Teila protested.

I shook my head. “Not as much as you think.”

“Mumu’s kissing, and she’s only twenty-three.”

“Mumu’s also the lodge master. Will you be the lodge master at that age?”

“Don’t say such a thing. It would mean our Mumu was dead.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make a point.”

“Well, do it elsewhere,” Teila said. “Not at Mumu.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

“So, when—”

“There’s lots of time before that question needs to be answered.”

I was counting on it. My body was young enough that I didn’t need to worry about puberty yet, thank the gods. The day would come, though, and I’d also have to eventually think about marrying again.

It was something my friends back in Portland had regularly nudged me about. I’d even gone on a few dates, but I’d had a feeling I’d never find someone I’d love as much as Helen. Honestly, I hadn’t given the process a real chance, and it had been unrealistic to expect the same level of connection on a first date as a lifetime of marriage. There was nothing fair about matters of the heart, though. I’d just assumed I’d be a bachelor widower for the rest of my life… which was exactly what had happened.

But could I stay that way for a whole second life? Even surrounded by family and loved ones, it’d be a long time to be without a partner and best friend.

What do you think, Yuki?

‘We know you. Your heart is big enough for us all, but Ollie/Eight will need to find someone eventually.’

It just feels weird. The whole idea does.

Teila scooted closer to peer into my eyes. “You’re talking to Yuki, aren’t you.” When I nodded, she then asked, “Do you think I can say hello?”

“But you’re not supposed to take Yuki in,” I said. “No one on the team is—that’s why Mumu and Tegen are in a bind, after all. Unless you’re thinking of testing it out for them...”

Teila shrugged. “A little, but I’m also curious. I can see you having fun with Yuki. Sometimes you smile for no reason, or look deep in thought, your brows wrinkling like an old man.” She giggled.

The problem was, Mumu and Kesa had made it clear that it’d be best for Yuki to stick to my family alone. If news got out, people might worry, especially if the uekisheile appeared to be spreading.

Yuki had been disappointed, but by then they’d gone through enough of the books and movies in my head to understand the fear of being mind controlled. They were as fond of my team as I was, and willing to settle for interacting with them using me as an intermediary.

If Teila wanted to go against the lodge leaders’ decision, then she’d best do it after she had a better understanding of the consequences.

Maybe one day, I thought.

‘We hope so,’ Yuki answered.

“Not yet,” I said aloud.

“Too young again?” Teila asked, looking disappointed.

“Yes and no,” I said, then took the time to explain more: about how a decision as big as this one required adult sensibilities, about the potential perception problem, and about the lack of privacy inherent with having Yuki in your body. Throughout, she remained interested-curious-attentive.

Afterward, she said, “It makes me sad to wait to meet someone so important to you and your family, but I will.”

“I appreciate—”

“I still want to kiss, though. And you can’t say we’re too young. I’ve seen others our age, a little older, kissing. It’s not just Mumu and Haol.”

“I’m sure you have—”

“So we should, just to see what it’s like. Aren’t you interested? You’re the most curious person I know—I can’t imagine that you’re not. Unless you’re already kissing someone else in the village?”

“You’re very stubborn,” I said.

“I have to be,” Teila said, “to get what I want. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

I shook my head in disbelief. We’d just killed a friend, there were assassins after me, the lodge was in trouble, we had injured members on our team, and this was the conversation I was having. “I’m not kissing anyone.”

“I thought so.”

Her spirit was open and mostly easy to read. The professed curiosity was visible, as was a certain playfulness, but folded underneath was a sense of obligation.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked.

“Can’t I just be curious?” she asked back. “Mumu looks like she enjoys kissing.”

I grinned. “She does, doesn’t she? But it seems to be more than that.”

Teila sighed. “Your eyes are a blessing, but they make it hard to hide things.”

“You’re my hunt sister. You don’t need to hide anything from me, do you?”

“Only not to burden you,” Teila said. “My parents want us to marry.”

“Ah.”

“And I thought... I don’t know what I thought. Just that Mumu and Haol like to kiss, so I thought we could try it, and maybe we’d like it too.”

This was exactly the kind of situation I’d hoped to avoid. The people of Voorhei married way too early for my comfort. Maybe once I hit my twenties it’ll feel okay, but before then? The whole idea is just creepy as hell.

“Are you angry?” Teila asked. “You have the stormy face you sometimes make. I know you don’t like to think about marriage. Bee and Ali have worked hard to keep the other children in line so that they don’t bother you.”

“Who? What?”

Teila’s spirit brightened. “Billisha and Aluali, and they call me Tei. They are our names for each other.”

“And they’ve been dissuading the other village kids from pursuing me as a marriage prospect?”

“I’ve helped too. There were a couple of stubborn ones that needed ‘extra pressure.’ ” Teila snickered. “That’s how Bee described it.”

I knew that my kids had become pack leaders to some of the village children, but this was news me.

‘They didn’t want to bother you with it,’ Yuki said.

So you kept it from me too?

‘At their request. It seemed like the right thing to do—what you’d do in our situation: keep people’s secrets as long they don’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, the people we love may not want us in them.’

I— Well, that was a lot to process at once. Apparently, I hadn’t been as in the know as I’d thought. Which was annoying, but also normal. Even after they’d become adults, Alex and Daniel hadn’t shared everything they’d done or gone through when they were teens.

No matter how much you want to protect your kids, it was just something you had to live with as a parent. It was impossible to know or control everything. Your kids had their own desires and agendas. You could do your best to make sure they had solid foundations—that they knew right from wrong and how to navigate through life—but in the end, their choices were their own.

And if I were being honest, Billisha and Aluali’s efforts had helped. It was nice not to be pestered about marriage every time I went for a walk in the village.

There was something else though. Now that I was looking, Teila’s spirit shimmered whenever she talked about… Bee and Ali. The nicknames didn’t feel right for me to use. There was an intimacy to them that seemed reserved for the three kids.

“You like Billisha and Aluali,” I said to Teila.

She blushed and looked away, but didn’t deny it.

“But you still asked to kiss me.” I sighed, then shook my head. “You’re a good daughter, Teila, but you don’t need to be that good. Don’t let your parents’ goals overwhelm your own.”

A hope glimmered from deep within her spirit. “You wouldn’t be opposed to me courting Bee and Ali?”

Because I’d adopted them, I’d considered my kids siblings to each other, yet that wasn’t how society viewed them. There was a separate family category for non-blood relations—

“Wait, you want to marry both?”

“Mmm.” Teila nodded. Then, she braced her spirit like she was getting ready to face a lion. “And I’d be willing to join your family. I wouldn’t steal them from you.”

Oh gods, her parents wouldn’t like that—not at all. Teila was the rising star of their family. For her to abandon theirs for mine would be dramatic. The talk of the village for years.

The implications rolled through my mind until I got to a part that truly hung me up. “My kids like each other in that way?”

‘They do,’ Yuki responded.

“They always have,” Teila said. “Even before they were captured by bandits.”

“How did I not know that?”

Teila shrugged, but Yuki said, ‘You have expectations for how a family behaves, and the kids want to please you.’

Why didn’t you tell me? I understand about keeping secrets, but this—this could’ve hurt them.

Yuki’s qi sank. ‘They wouldn’t let me. We explained and explained how we knew you’d understand, yet they were desperate not to distract you from your hunts, your training, everything.’

But they would’ve told me eventually, right? It was just a matter of timing?

Yuki hesitated. ‘Maybe.’

Damn, damn, and damn. Thank the gods I’d learned of the situation before it was too late. I needed to talk with Billisha and Aluali, but— I should slow down. This isn’t an emergency, no matter how much it feels like one right now. A talk could wait until I got back to the village, so that it’d be face-to-face.

“Eight, are you well?”

I roused from my thoughts to see Teila looking worried. “Yes. It’s just you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Of course not. A hunter prizes truth above all things, and that’s what you’ve given me.”

“I’m relieved,” she said with a sigh.

“Did you have this”—I gestured broadly—“did you have all this in mind when you asked about kissing?”

Teila ducked her head, hiding it under her arms. “My parents have been pushing, my mother asking how things are going. I felt... I was confused, but also needed to know.”

“And now you do. When the time comes, I’ll let the three of you pursue a relationship.”

“I’m glad,” Teila said, the relief spreading through her spirit.

“You do realize, though, that you’ll need to wait until you’re older.”

The relief halted. “Until when?”

“Twenty-five,” I said, resolute.

“That’s forever from now.”

“It’ll only feel that way.”

“I’ll be so old,” she said.

“Not as old as you think,” I said.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“No, I’ve made up my mind.” I turned over, showing her my back. “Good night, Teila. Have a good rest.”

“We’re not done talking,” she said. “Eight? Eight!”

28

A Surprising Grace

The next morning, Teila glared all through breakfast. It was noticeable enough for Haol to pull me aside afterward to ask if everything was all right. I smiled and gave him the Diaksh equivalent of a thumbs up.

After I’d explained, he shook his head. “I’m so glad not to be young anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. The man was only twenty-five, and adulthood didn’t really start until the human brain finished developing at about that age. As far as I was concerned, Haol was just starting his journey. Then again...

I glanced toward Ikfael. She was over two hundred years old, yet often acted even more immature than my kids. Ikiira was supposed to have been quite young when she’d died—not even twenty—so I wondered if that had something to do with it.

At the moment, our Dr. Otter was using her water tablet to scan Mumu’s and Tegen’s injuries. The two had agreed to her proposal to hand over their spears and come to the Glen’s defense in exchange. Ikfael’s original demand had been for it to be one time, but the hunters had increased it to three of their own volition.

Ikfael had glowed then, and when the light had settled, she looked… still not well, but a bit better. Then, Haol and Teila had gifted their knives. They had also pledged to join Mumu and Tegen in the Glen’s defense, while not asking for anything in return. That helped too.

The otter’s eyes had shone with both pride and gratitude. She’d heard stories from me about my team, and now that she’d seen them in action, she knew they were true. It probably explained why she was being so open with them. Ikfael knew she could trust them.

That trust was such a big step for her. When she’d been Ikiira, the village of Voorhei and its Hunter’s Lodge had sacrificed her to expunge their sins. And she’d spent so many years alone afterward, with no company except for the stonewater serpent once a year and the village’s offerings twice a year.

No wonder she was hungry for camaraderie. I didn’t know how much humanity was left in Ikfael after she’d become a spirit of the land, but people were social animals. There were exceptions, of course, though in general we were meant to exist in community with others.

When Dr. Otter finished her examination, she had us sit in a circle. No words came at first; her paws were still. She got into her thinking pose, not saying anything for a while. A couple of times it looked like she was ready to start, but then she stopped to think some more. You didn’t need spirit eyes to see Ikfael was wrestling with what to say.

Finally, her paws began to move. “There’s nothing I can do to help you,” she started. “There’s an elder who might, but she’s in seclusion and won’t be available until the middle of next year. My advice to you, as one who understands the responsibilities you shoulder, is to”—and here, Ikfael hesitated for a moment—“is to let Eight cast Grace.”

My team knew of the spell, but I’d never demonstrated it to them because Ikfael had cautioned me against wantonly using it. According to her, I’d be sharing myself too easily if I did.

How was Grace supposed to help Mumu and Tegen though? The others on my team looked as confused as I, and they turned to me for clarification. I could only shrug in response. I didn’t understand it either.

I knew with certainty that Grace didn’t have any hidden healing effects. Yuki and I had experimented heavily with the spell when it’d first been given to me by the stonewater serpent. The only creature we’d tamed with it was Snow, and since then, the three of us had only used it to unwind. Even just a minute or two was a good way to feel cozy-good-relaxed at the end of a long training day.

“None of us need taming, except maybe for Eight,” Haol joked. “We should be the ones casting the spell on him.” He grinned, and earned a few wan smiles in return.

Not Tegen, though. He was all business. “The question of why remains.” He bowed to Ikfael. “Will you please explain? We want to understand your thinking. Whatever you wish in exchange, you’ll have it.”

Ikfael nodded. “My demand is that the village provide two additional offerings every year, one in the spring and another in the fall. They do not need to be as generous as those in the summer and winter—about half the usual goods will do.”

All around the circle, jaws dropped. Teila even covered her mouth with her hands to keep from exclaiming. I’d told Ikfael to charge heavily for her services, but damn that was a lot, practically extortion.

Ikfael waved a paw to recapture our attention. “In trade, I will share the burden with you. Eight’s spell will make things clear once it’s been cast, and I will... I will take responsibility for the decisions that result, the consequences, all of it.”

“You make it sound like Grace is a big deal,” I said, “and I suppose it is, but aren’t you blowing things out of proportion? It’s just a spell.”

Ikfael quirked her head. “Is not Spiral Pierce also a ‘just' a spell. Yet it can kill.”

“Sure, but Pierce is meant to do that. Grace isn’t. There’s no harm in it.”

“None intended, but every action has consequences. Toss a pebble into the water, there will be ripples. My offer is to watch over those ripples and ensure no harm comes from them.” Ikfael raised a paw to keep me from interrupting. “I’m not saying harm will flow from casting Grace, but you’ve asked for my guidance, and I would be a coward to offer only words in exchange.”

“A question,” Mumu said. “For how long will we need to make these offerings?”

“Are we seriously considering this?” Haol asked. “The village’s leadership will have words with us.”

“They will,” Mumu said, nodding, “but our lodge will shoulder the expense if needed. Now, if you please, Ikfael?”

The otter thought for a bit. “For as long as the hunters in this room are alive. But not Eight—the rascal will do what he’ll do and is exempted from this exchange.”

“And the explanation for why?” Haol prompted.

Ikfael turned to him. “There’ll be none until after the spell is cast. To do so beforehand might jeopardize the outcome.”

“We trust you,” Mumu said, “but this is asking a lot.”

“You are free to pursue the alchemist’s treatment,” Ikfael responded.

Which was an obvious end to the discussion, so my team huddled to discuss the proposal. They quizzed me about Grace, and I told them about how the spell helped people to feel at home, like they belonged. It brought to light the best in people.

How that would help heal Mumu’s and Tegen’s meridians was a mystery, though. I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing something.

In the end, Mumu decided to accept Ikfael’s offer, but before doing so, she laid out her reasoning and asked us to check it.

One, the lodge was in danger—both literally and financially. We had to be able to defend ourselves from assassins, as well as deal with any fines stemming from Borba’s murder spree. There was also the Long Dark coming up soon, and to help deal with it and everything else, we needed to bring Mumu and Tegen back to one hundred percent.

Two, an exchange of this size should dramatically help Ikfael, as would the new offerings once they started. I was grateful to not be the only one worried about our dear otter, and this would be a way for the village to help her.

Voorhei depended on Ikfael for clean water—the village was famous for it—so this exchange would ultimately benefit its residents, resulting in a win-win-win for everyone involved: Mumu, Tegen, Ikfael, and the villagers of Voorhei. That was going to be Mumu’s justification to Koda the Village Head for the expense.

After that, it was just a matter of formally agreeing to the deal, which required a vow from Mumu and Tegen. No matter how they expected to arrange for the offerings, the responsibility was ultimately theirs.

The spirits of all three reacted as soon as the vows were completed. Ikfael’s grew brighter, to about a third of where she’d been before she’d saved me from the assassin. As for Mumu and Tegen, silver flashed deep within their spirits; then some dark, stray wisps were ejected, only to vanish into the air, which in turn led to a shifting and realignment of their spirits’ flows.

That was what it looked like anyway, and it made me really, really want to see the effects on me when I interacted with Ikfael. Alas, my spirit eyes didn’t work on myself, and my Status remained mute on the subject.

Although, I did have Ikfael’s Blessing. Maybe that was related? And Mumu and Tegen probably had it now too. We’d likely need to visit a world speaker to find out for sure. Unless people could feel blessings like they did the other aspects of their Statuses?

I asked Tegen, and he replied, "Yes, Little Pot. The blessing is in my heart: a bead of pure, warm water.”

Mumu put her hand to her chest. “I feel the same.”

When I felt in my heart, though, I sensed only Yuki. Then, when I plumbed deeper, the phone in my head sprang to mind. I saw:

Blessing of Ikfael

A blessing from Ikfael, a spirit of the land. First granted out of obligation to a god, the blessing continues because of your amusing antics, daily fish tributes, and friendship. You’ve earned a measure of trust and have been rewarded for it. Provides a bonus to healing and recovery rates while within Ikfael’s territory. Also tempers environmental effects within the territory and protects against small, non-evolved insects and vermin.

Oh, the text has changed. I don’t remember there being anything about friendship and trust before. That’s nice to see. I wonder when that happened? The last time I did a deep-dive on tooltips was... uh... a season ago?

‘That’s right,’ Yuki said. ‘Back when we were starting to study talents.’

I looked at the other blessings’ tool tips, but Ikfael’s was the only one that had changed. Still, I needed to get into the habit of checking them more often. It wouldn’t do to get complacent just because I thought I had a handle on things.

Afterward, Agath came by to report. She and Moon had been stationed in the inn’s common room, while Grasset kept an eye on the surrounding streets. None of them noticed anything unusual. Also, the cooks wanted to know if I had any suggestions for cooking goat. They’d apparently gotten a hold of one.

I was sorely tempted to head down to lecture them about the beauty of smoked birria tacos, but I had to beg off. Ikfael wanted to move forward right away—it was time to cast the spell.

She had my team sit in a circle again. Maybe it was the buildup, but the faces all around were serious, like they were about to head out on a dangerous hunt.

“Relax,” I said, bringing the spell to mind. “I do this all the time.”

Grace unfolded from within me, and its golden light eased the tension running through the hunters. All around the circle, shoulders loosened, people’s breathing deepened, and I even saw a couple of surprised smiles. None of us needed to say or do anything—it was enough to be present and enjoy each other’s company. We belonged just as we were.

Each of us was revealed to the others. There was Mumu’s bright spark and her constant striving to improve; Haol’s near-obsession with the bow; Tegen’s determination to fulfill his obligations; and Teila’s tireless efforts to realize her own potential. In turn, my team was also exposed to Ikfael’s hidden warmth and playfulness, my endurance and commitment to doing better, and Yuki’s devotion and bright mind.

Each of us was a wonder to the others, and my team finally got a taste what it was like to have Yuki with me. They experienced firsthand the uekisheile’s lack of intent to do harm. There was only their desire to make friends and be of help.

The hunters stared, their attention alternating between the three of us: Ikfael, Yuki, and me. We were unique existences, at least in the context of a small village like Voorhei.

The spell lasted a minute, but once it concluded Ikfael prompted me to recast it, and eventually the intensity of the hunters’ gazes slackened as they slid even further into Grace’s warm embrace. Then, Teila began to sob. She lifted her hands to cover her face, but her spirit revealed a deep-seated burden—the need to carry the weight of expectations for her family’s prosperity.

Tegen’s turn was next, grieving from guilt. There were those who he’d failed to protect in the past: friends, teammates, a sister. And Haol wept because he was a disappointment to his family. As a user of both qi and mana, he should’ve been in line to be the next lodge master, but he’d prioritized his own desires.

Mumu felt like she was never enough. Even as accomplished as she was, she’d not be Inleio’s equal for decades, and the lodge’s hunters knew it. Some would likely die because of the flawed decisions she was bound to make.

In my previous life, I’d urged my children to not be afraid of stumbling when trying new things. Mistakes were how we learned, after all. The problem was that even small errors could have fatal consequences in Diaksha.

The Hunter’s Lodge got around that by using games and playing pranks within the village—they were safe ways to try new things, fool around, and practice skills—but out in the world, the consequences were potentially dire.

My mana emptied out at the six-minute mark, but my teammates continued to bawl even after the Grace spell ran out. I went around the circle to comfort each of the hunters, and Yuki extended tendrils to pet them too.

For a good hour, they were inconsolable. Eventually, though, the tears and sniffles stopped. The hunters sat in silence, their gazes turned inward.

“Is this what it’s like every time?” Haol murmured. “How can you stand to use this spell, Eight?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. What you felt during the first part? That’s what it’s like for Yuki and me, and I’m guessing Ikfael too.”

“My past is long behind me,” the otter said. “Unlike some of you, I’ve had many years to come to terms with it.”

“I don’t understand,” Mumu said. “How was”—she gestured broadly—“how was that supposed to help us?”

“A clear stream flows more strongly,” Ikfael said, “but the tears were only an added benefit. The main aim of the spell—Let me ask you now, do you trust Yuki?”

“Yes,” Mumu said, then immediately seemed surprised by the response. She paused to think, and realization dawned on her face that it was true.

“What about the rest of you?” Ikfael asked.

There were tentative nods all around the circle.

“You don’t need the healers or the alchemists,” Ikfael said. “The remedy to your injuries was already in reach. You only needed to accept it, and now you do.”

Mumu began, “But Kesa said—”

“Who is the lodge master?” Ikfael demanded. “You or Kesa?”

“Me, but I don’t have her experience.”

“Nor does she have yours,” Ikfael pointed out. “Listen, there’s just as much wisdom in boldness as there is in caution. The key is in understanding when one approach is better than the other. Learning to discern that will be the most important thing you do as lodge master.”

Mumu shook her head. “If so, then I should listen to Kesa even more. She’s the one who's had the years to learn that lesson.”

“Except she doesn’t know Eight as well as you. Or Yuki, now that you’ve experienced Grace.” Ikfael came over to pat my arm “Our Eight is a troublemaker, but his intentions are good. His actions too, and the same can be said of Yuki. Tell me, will you lose an opportunity because you’re afraid of what may happen?”

Mumu’s expression sharpened. “Is it necessary though? Why take the risk when the alchemists can heal Tegen’s and my meridians without it? We can find a way to manage the Long Dark—”

Ikfael chopped the air, cutting her off. “Have you never wondered how Eight has so much qi? The answer is Yuki, who helped him refine it. And that’s something the uekisheile can do for you too. Eight hasn’t mentioned it, because he likes to hold his secrets tight, but I tell this to you because I don’t want you to be a fool. The master of the lodge should never be a fool.”

The hunters all simultaneously uttered some version of: "What?!”

“That’s not true!” I yelled. “Well, the part about Yuki helping is, but I didn’t tell the others because I—”

‘Like feeling special?’ Yuki offered.

“—wanted to respect their decision,” I continued, ignoring them. “A friend doesn’t tempt friends into doing things they don’t want to do.”

Okay… that sounded lame even to my own ears, but I had really believed that. Or, at least I’d thought I had. Given how much Yuki’s observation stung, though, I’d probably only been deluding myself. Damn it.

While I was mulling over my capacity for self-deception, the rest of the team stared speechless.

“That’s not all,” Ikfael said. “Yuki is a genius with qi, but they can also use mana, meaning they can probably help their hosts sense it too.”

Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.

‘Same here,’ Yuki said. ‘How amazing would it be if everyone here could use both qi and mana?’

Ikfael continued: “The whole lodge could learn to use both forms of energy. That's likely unwise, and you’d have to hide Yuki’s intelligence and pretend that they’re a natural treasure of some kind, but you could do it.”

That announcement stunned me and my team both.

“This—” Mumu struggled to get the words out. “This is why the exchange—”

Ikfael nodded. “The decision could cast ripples far and wide.”

“Yuki wouldn’t even have to attach themselves to the people they helped,” I said, thinking aloud. “The uekisheile could just visit and then leave.”

“I volunteer,” Tegen said, leaning forward.

“We’re all going to die,” Haol said. His eyes were wide with shock, and fear too. “If anyone truly powerful hears of this, they’d stop at nothing get a hold of Yuki.”

Teila looked at me, her expression still soft from all the crying she’d done. “My father would like to use qi. He’ll pay you any price, swear any oath.”

Mumu rubbed at her face. “I—I can’t recommend that. As much as he’s my hunt brother, there’s little wisdom in giving Ahlrein magic powers. There’s a reason why people must prove themselves to earn access to the lodge’s spells.”

“I’ve proven myself,” Tegen said. “Let me try, and we’ll see if any of this is even possible.”

Mumu placed a hand on his arm. “Of course you’re worthy—I trust you with my life and the lives of the lodge’s most precious apprentices—but we need to think this through first. How will we explain to the lodge how you suddenly deepened your qi well and gained access to mana magic?”

“A fortuitous encounter,” Tegen said, “just as Ikfael proposed.”

Haol nodded slowly. “We can tell the others we heard news of a potential remedy for Mumu’s and Tegen’s injuries, and the results were far better than expected. The treasure was limited, though, so there was only enough for a few of us to benefit.”

“No one else in the lodge?” Teila asked, her voice plaintive.

Mumu glanced around the circle and saw head shakes in response. She sighed. “I agree, it’s too dangerous to share this opportunity with the others.”

“You know,” I said. “We could say Ikfael was responsible. That it’s something she can do, a power she has.”

That landed like a bombshell, eliciting another round of exclamations, including several from our dear otter.

I elaborated on the idea to my team: “Think about it—Ikfael is injured herself, so this is a way for her to garner more exchanges, attention, and gifts. Her shrine could become a source for learning the Healing Water spell, as well as improving a person’s capacity for magic. She’d have to work with Yuki to mask how it was done, but the idea should be feasible.”

‘You’d be willing, right?’ I asked Yuki.

‘Yes, we love our Ikfael, and would do almost anything for her.’

I said aloud, “She wouldn’t even have to take Yuki inside of her for this to work.”

Ikfael waved her paw in dismissal. “People would come to the Glen from far away, at every hour and every day. The peace would be destroyed, and that cannot—must not—happen.”

“Oh right.” In my enthusiasm, I’d forgotten Ikfael was supposed to protect the Glen from enemies and disturbances on behalf of the stonewater serpent. “Then, what if—”

I wracked my brain for ideas from the stories I’d read and the movies I’d watched. What about the game campaigns I’d run or played in? What was a good way to distribute a limited resource, done so that it focused attention on a single, manageable point in time?

Ah. Yes. Of course. A tournament.

“What if,” I started, “we made it a martial contest where people competed for the prize of ‘Ikfael’s Boon.’ We could call it that, and the event would take place once a year, like at the big festival coming up. But, because of Ikfael’s devotion to Voorhei, there’d also be a second boon reserved for our Hunter’s Lodge.”

I continued: “She would benefit as the recipient of an immense amount of attention; we’d give people a legitimate but limited outlet for them to access the boon; and our lodge could take advantage of it too. It’d be painstakingly slow, benefiting only one of our hunters per year, but our lodge’s foundation would strengthen. The story would have to be carefully crafted, but I think it could work. People will believe just about anything if it offers them hope.”

As I finished presenting the idea, I noticed the others’ heavy gazes.

“Do you even realize how much work—”

“Where do you even get these outlandish—”

“Surely, people aren’t that naïve—”

“Wow, I want to participate!”

That last one was Teila. The others were understandably more skeptical. What I’d described was potentially a logistical nightmare. But it could also be a gold mine, and we happened to be connected to a merchant family who knew a thing or two about logistics. They wouldn’t necessarily be good at event planning, but I had confidence in Uncle Kila and his family—they’d be able to learn.

Eventually, the protests died down as the initial skepticism gave way to people considering the idea. The room got quiet, and I kept my mouth shut. Eventually, they raised real questions, and as a team we started to work our way through them.

The biggest issue was timing. The autumn festival was coming up fast, and while the hunters had prior experience with martial contests, they didn’t feel confident in figuring out how to organize one. Uncle Kila’s family really would be critical to pulling it off. If we couldn’t get them on board, the idea was dead in the water. Unless we find a way to delay until the spring?

There was the final sticking point: Ikfael’s willingness, but we had to defer the answer to that question to a later time. She was in her thinking pose, and from the looks of things, she’d be a long time in deciding.

29

Mercies and Agreements

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of brainstorming and planning, but none of us felt good just sitting around—our hands needed to be as busy as our mouths—so we tended to our gear at the same time.

Then, it was time for lunch, and we trooped downstairs for a meal of corn and squash pudding. The stuff didn’t look appetizing at first, but after a spoonful I discovered an underlayer of cheese and bacon, and I polished off the bowl right quick.

The cooks had also made a portion for Ikfael, which she appreciated. When I went to pick up the bowl from her later, I saw it had been licked clean.

The early afternoon was spent resting—hanging out with my team, as well as Agath and Moon. We had to stay in Albei under Aslishtei’s orders, but at the same time, it didn’t make sense to tempt fate by needlessly wandering around the city no matter how much I wanted to. I’d just have to wait until we figured out who exactly was trying to kill me and... well, I supposed I had to kill them first.

Boscun, Kaad, Otwei, Ghitha, and Borba—the list of people whose deaths I’d been directly or indirectly involved with was growing longer and longer. And it would likely continue. That seemed to be the way of things. Honestly, the thought was a troubling one, and I found myself dwelling on it, wondering about how mi abuelito might’ve handled the situations I’d been in.

The spoon from lunch was in my hands, and I idly circled it around my fingers. I must’ve looked glum, because Agath sat heavily beside me, the cushion tiny under her.

“The first man I ever killed,” she said, making herself comfortable, “was my father’s brother. He’d lost himself to the dark, so the family did its duty to put him down.”

The spoon slipped from fingers to clatter onto the table. “Oh gods, that must’ve been terrible.”

“It was, but also a mercy. To him and the rest of the family.”

Moon came to sit on the other side of me, the two dolbecs like bookends. “My first was a traditional bloodletting. The elders saw my potential and arranged for my participation.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“A bloodletting is an opportunity to strike against criminals who’ve been sentenced to die, a way to give young warriors a taste of killing before their first battle. In my case, it was a bandit, and our reeve demanded at least twenty-five wounds on him before his death. There were five of us participating, so we each took turns, controlling the strength of our strikes, until the last which killed him.”

“And you were last,” I said.

“It was a great honor,” Moon signed.

“Death is not the enemy,” Agath said. “It is every soldier’s companion. This is a truth for hunters too.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said, “but I don’t want it to become easy.”

Moon looked down at his hands before responding. “Some blades only know how to kill, but there are also those that protect.”

Agath nodded. “That’s the choice every dolbec faces—the path set by the first of us.”

“Otherwise, we are no better than the animals we defend ourselves against,” Moon signed, then he left to check the street outside.

Agath and I watched him go.

“Is he doing okay?” I asked, thinking about his Battered Loyalty talent.

“Mmm. We had some unpleasant business recently, but my brother is not so easily lost to the dark. And what of you, are you doing okay?”

“Mostly. I don’t like being cooped up, though.”

“None of us do,” Agath said. “None of us do.”

By mid-afternoon, the imposed idleness was getting to my team, so we headed back upstairs for a collective nap. That way, we’d at least get some productive rest.

It was funny: Tegen was all like, “I doubt my worries will let me sleep, but I will join you for company. Perhaps I’ll meditate,” and then not a minute later, he was snoring away. The rest followed soon after, including Teila thankfully. I didn’t feel ready to handle another chat about kissing.

Eventually I fell asleep too, only to be woken up twenty minutes later by Yuki.

‘Billisha wants you to know that Borba’s family has fled Voorhei.’

What? What happened?

‘Apparently, they went out to their fields in the morning like usual, and then kept going. The reeve went to look for them, but they were nowhere to be found.’

Why was Dwilla looking for them? I asked.

‘A representative from Voorsowen arrived last night with a claim against them. The family was supposed to respond by today.’

Damn. Did they leave anything—

‘Dwilla searched their longhouse,’ Yuki answered, anticipating my question, ‘but they took everything of value. They’re gone, and the representative from Voorsowen is angry.’

Borba had been a team leader before being turned into a monster, and he’d earned quite a bit, including his share of the kalihchi bear’s bounty. The family wasn’t exactly wealthy, but they did have assets. Well, now they and their assets were no longer available to help offset the claims incurred against Borba.

I didn’t mind the family escaping slavery, but it did leave our Hunter’s Lodge in even more of a lurch than before. With a sigh, I nudged Mumu awake and passed along the information. She just shook her head in response.

“The sale of the family might’ve paid the debt from Voorsowen, but then there are still the wind-touched.” Mumu shrugged.

“The lodge will be in trouble no matter what,” I said.

“The North Wind’s family was important and powerful. The grandmaster’s estimate is that the debt will be an eistaak or maybe even two.”

“I don’t know that denomination.”

“It’s no wonder. The eistaak is a large gold coin worth fifty antaak.”

Holy hells. That was ten thousand taak. “Do we even have that much?” I asked

“One eistaak among the entirety of the lodge and its savings? Yes. Two, only if we use the slumber’s bounty.”

“Uncle Kila would probably loan us the difference,” I said.

“And ask for the source of the eilesheile as collateral,” Mumu said.

“He would, wouldn’t he? I suppose I’d do the same in his place. That’s a lot of money.”

Mumu rubbed at her eyes. “The lodge has survived worse in the past, and it’ll survive this too.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. An eistaak is three-and-half years of eilesheile production. If we get loan terms that match—let’s say four years, just to be safe—we should be okay. And who knows, maybe the tournament idea will take off, and then we won’t need to worry about money ever again.”

“Can such a thing truly happen?” Mumu asked.

“If we handle it right. The key will be making sure the fighters feel like they can get something from participating even if they don’t win—whether it's the experience of being there, notoriety for their martial prowess, or whatever. Not everyone is going to be good enough to be a contender for the prize, and they’ll know that, so there needs to be something for everyone to maximize attendance.”

“I’ve competed in martial games before,” Mumu said, “but nothing with a prize like what we’ll be offering. It will draw people.”

“Then we might as well take advantage of the situation and charge them for it.”

We continued to talk, our voices low so that we didn’t disturb Ikfael and the others. The topic drifted from future plans to recent events, and then to random observations about the city and anything else that came to mind.

I’d expected either her or me to drift off again, but we stayed awake, just shooting the breeze. It was nice.

Dinner was braised goat with squash and greens. There were mushrooms too—a long and stringy type I didn’t recognize. They tasted like wet socks and cinnamon, which apparently suited Teila just fine; she added my share to her bowl readily enough.

All through the meal, Tegen cast glances up toward where our room would be, but our dear otter knew how to take her time thinking things through.

So, we sat at the table, the adults drinking a post-meal plum wine while Teila quizzed me on the new vocabulary I’d recently learned. There were a bunch of words related to the law, banking, and sporting events. Mumu leaned over on occasion to contribute, as did Haol, the two of them taking over for the distracted Tegen.

A flutter of motion caught my eye, and I spotted Little Red flying through an open window to land on one of the nearby tables. His head quirked left and right to examine the room. I elbowed Mumu to point him out, the table’s chatter quieting as everyone turned to look. Moments later, Aslishtei came through the inn’s front door, followed by a couple of peltwei youngsters and Brother Ekthei.

All the hunters stood up, and not even the densest inn patron would’ve attributed it to courtesy. The room went silent as the diners became aware of the intensity of the hunters’ gazes. The realization that something was happening spread through the room.

Aslishtei ignored the rising tension and strode toward our table. The people next to us fled, and she sat in one of the suddenly empty seats, the one closest to me. An innkeeper approached, but Aslishtei waved him off. “We won’t be eating.”

The peltwei youngsters followed, looking around curiously at the diners present. The crow heads made it hard to guess their ages, but one had the gangly awkwardness of an eleven- or twelve-year-old, while the other was taller and more composed. She might’ve been thirteen or fourteen. Notably, she had a streak of silver feathers along the right side of her face.

I brought up my Status camera to check out their talents. The younger was:

Krenya Cleidetsdaughter (Human, Peltwei)

Talents: Mana Blossom, Thirsty for Knowledge

And the older was:

Wensatsu Cleidetsdaughter (Human, Peltwei)

Talents: Magic is as Magic Does, The Responsible One

Those talents. I had no clue what they did and I still felt envious. Whoever the original Peltwei must’ve been, they’d passed on a rich and deep facility for magic to their descendants. If either of these two studied and worked as hard as Aslishtei appeared to—and there was every reason to think they would—they were going to be powerhouses when they grew up.

When the peltwei youngsters sat at what-was-now Aslishtei’s table, Krenya sniffed at the food left by the previous patrons, then pushed the bowl away. After a moment, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, and she dipped a finger in the stew to give it a taste. Afterward, she reached for a spoon, but her sister placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

As for Brother Ekthei, he hovered uselessly, not willing to sit down while the hunters continued to stand. At one point, I saw him gulp.

“Whatever else I may be,” Aslishtei said, “I am also a land soldier, and will keep the peace. There will be no fighting, so all of you sit down. Ekthei, you first.”

Brother Ekthei eyed the hunters like he was a goat in front of a dragon. Still, he did as he was told and nervously sat down. That seemed to wake the hunters up, the realization moving through them that there was just the one healer present and it was Brother Ekthei, not exactly a threat.

Our emotions had been running high for days, and it struck me then just how high.

“Why are you here?” Mumu asked.

“I should think it was obvious,” Aslishtei said. “Has our Eight not told you about the offer to marry into my family?”

“He’s not yours,” Mumu practically growled.

“He’s an adult according to the law, free to make his own decisions.” Aslishtei gestured toward the youngsters with her. “My nieces are talented, and there’s much Eight can learn from my family—our understanding of the mysteries is deep, our practitioners powerful.”

“You’d steal him from our village, our lodge.”

“There’s no theft when there’s agreement on both sides,” Aslishtei said. “Besides, my family will compensate yours for the loss. The lodge is a second family, is it not? And the marriage gift we’d normally give, we’d offer it to Voorhei’s hunters instead.” She seemed to grin before continuing. “Even as we speak, there are representatives from the peltwei families and the healers speaking before the land knight, arguing their cases against your lodge. The financial burden will surely be tremendous.”

“You’d buy Eight from us?” Mumu asked, disgusted.

“There’s a latent power within him that must find expression,” Aslishtei said, her voice becoming heated. “That is more important than you, your lodge, and your village.”

Mumu was going to respond, just as intensely, but she caught herself. For a moment, I saw her stutter in shock, her thoughts freezing then replaying Aslishtei’s words in her head. “The land knight is hearing our case? Right now, without us present?”

“Your grandmaster was called in your stead,” Aslishtei said. “I’ve come directly from there after having given my testimony.”

I’d been okay with taking a backseat while Mumu talked on my behalf—she was my friend and lodge master—but after that kind of news, I couldn’t help saying, “I thought we’d get to be there.”

From the scowls and perplexed expressions around me, the other hunters seemed to think so too.

Aslishtei nodded, and explained, “It’s unusual, but the Healer’s Lodge argued in advance that your lodge’s judgement was compromised and your testimony untrustworthy.”

“And Knight Ithia agreed?” Mumu asked, stunned.

“She did,” Aslishtei said, “after hearing agreement from her advisors.”

“All of them were in agreement?”

“Not all. Your grandmaster, the alchemists, and the soldiers disagreed. Everyone else though...” Aslishtei left the rest unsaid.

“It’s us against the world,” I muttered.

“So here we are.” Aslishtei sat back, looking from hunter to hunter. “You have a problem, and I have a solution that benefits us all. My family gains a talented child, Eight gets access to the magic he so desires, and your lodge avoids a terrible debt.”

Automatically, I said. “I’m too young to get married.”

“You are now, but in two years you’ll be old enough to get engaged. Commit to that, and all will be well. As a show of good faith, my family will hand over our gift early: two eistaak.”

The room gasped, like literally everyone—the hunters, Aslishtei’s nieces, Brother Ekthei, the diners shamelessly eavesdropping, everyone. It was a stunning amount of money, after all.

“I’m honored,” I said. “I truly am—it’s flattering to be so highly valued—but I’m going to decline for now.”

Aslishtei quirked her head. “For now?”

“I’m just not ready. It’s something I’ve been saying over and over to people, but it’s still much too early for me to think about marrying.”

“Marrying, yes,” Aslishtei said, “but it’s not too early to make the arrangements. Unless you think you can wait for a better deal?” Her gaze sharpened. “In which case, I can assure you there will be no others—not now that I’ve made my interest clear.”

Around the room, the eavesdroppers nodded. They were enjoying the show, and they'd no doubt avidly share the story with their friends and families afterward, spreading the word far and wide across Albei.

I’d wondered why Aslishtei was willing to engage in such a private conversation in so public a place, but now I knew. She was marking me as hers, or at least her family’s.

Which was a deeply unfortunate turn of events. I’d been willing to overlook the circumstances of our first meeting—Aslishtei had been doing her duty, I understood that—but these kinds of power games reminded me too much of my parents. No matter how much she and her magic intrigued me, I wasn’t willing to put up with that ever again.

The nieces seemed fine, but their aunt obviously held great sway within the family, and I’d not put myself under her thumb. The allure of her magic was strong, yet there’d be other, not-so manipulative opportunities in the future. The world was full of magic, after all.

And maybe, maybe it would be nice to actually fall in love again one day. That thought was a small one, tucked behind a bundle of grief-guilt-loss, but it was there.

“I’m not waiting for a better deal,” I said. “My motivations are not economic. I genuinely don’t feel ready yet.”

Aslishtei leaned back and considered me. I really wished I could see deeper into her spirit, but once someone hit dawn or dusk, everything got so much denser. I sensed undercurrents flowing, but not much else.

“I have brought Brother Ekthei to examine you,” she said.

It took a moment for me to switch gears. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You were injured in the fight with that Borba. The physical wounds have since been healed, but the damage to your meridians must be assessed so that a treatment plan can be determined.”

“But Brother Ekthei isn’t allowed to treat me,” I explained.

“Not while you’re a member of the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge,” Aslishtei responded.

“And I won’t be leaving the lodge,” I said.

“Then at least be examined. ‘Know the terrain before you fight in it.’ That’s a saying among soldiers, but surely it makes sense for hunters too.”

“But his efforts aren’t necessary,” I said. “A spirit of the land travels with us, and she has magic that lets her look at a person’s magical structures. I’m all set.”

That seemed to surprise her—she leaned forward and her spirit rippled. A slight gap opened, and I caught a hint of disappointment. Ah, she’d wanted to know more about my internals. Well, too bad. And besides, there was no second set of meridians like she thought. I had something even better: Yuki.

“But…” Aslishtei started, yet there weren’t any good reasons to let Brother Ekthei examine me. I got a perverse joy in watching her struggle to come up with one.

And, oh my god, Ikfael’s timing was perfect: her Knight Otter walked partway down the stairs and addressed the room like a queen might. “Where is my lackey?” she signed. “I have need of him.”

Everyone present bowed to the animated water sculpture—the cooks, innkeepers, patrons, and even the peltwei.

As for me, I was mildly annoyed at being called a lackey, but didn’t show it. Instead, I said to Aslishtei, “Sorry, we need to cut our conversation short. I’m being called.” And with that, I ran to follow Ikfael, while the other hunters also excused themselves to trail behind me.

Up the stairs we went to the third floor, and we found Knight Otter gazing out the window.

“Well,” Mumu asked, “what did you decide?”

Knight Otter signaled for us to wait, then gestured again to shoot a water marble through the open window. I caught a short glimpse of Little Red flying toward our room, but then he was hit, the magic bursting and vanishing into the air.

“Eight,” Knight Otter signed. “Is there anyone nearby hidden from sight?”

I’d had my spirit eyes open, but really looked to make sure there was no one else close by. The room, the hall outside, and the alley below were all clear. Once I said so, Knight Otter melted to reveal Ikfael, and she used the water to block the window. Then, she looked at each of us, her eyes solemn.

“I’ve decided, and the answer is yes, I agree to be the instrument of this boon.”

30

A Long-Awaited Introduction

Ikfael proposed a two-year test to ensure the tournament was as good an idea as we hoped it to be. Then, if it proved profitable after two years, she’d agree to extend the agreement in five-year increments.

There were a bunch of logistics to work out, but Ikfael was okay with leaving those to us. As a spirit of the land, she had a distance to maintain, and she couldn’t be involved in the nitty-gritty details.

While I would’ve loved to see her walking around with an otter-sized clipboard, ordering people around, it was probably not the best look for her. Instead, Uncle Kila and his family would fill the role, assuming they were willing to involve themselves in the project. The problem was that they’d already garnered the ire of the Healer’s Lodge by representing our goods. Becoming even more involved with us might get them ostracized.

We needed them, though, or at least people like them. Planning, marketing, and day-of logistics—there was so much ground to cover, all of which the hunters were ill equipped to handle. And, while I had the expertise, no one outside of my team was going to listen to an eight-year-old as an event producer.

What my team could do, however, was talk about their experiences with similar martial games, as well as predict how people might respond to ours. Apparently, contests of skill were often held during festivals already, including the big ones in Albei in the spring and autumn.

The contests were organized by the lodges to demonstrate their skills. The soldiers typically fought each other; the hunters sometimes did too, or they went into the wilderness in search of rare game; the artisans crafted ambitious projects; farmers showed off the size and quality of their produce; and even lodges like the philosophers got involved—for example, holding public debates and lectures.

Honestly, the more I heard, the more festivals sounded like county fairs, just medievalized. And the crowds were huge, with tons of people from the local villages and towns making their way to Albei to participate—to take in the entertainment, buy hard-to-find goods, and sell their own wares.

The autumn festival was scheduled to take place in about three weeks' time. That wasn’t a lot of runway to plan a big event, but we’d be idiots not to take advantage. The trick was going to be getting it noticed among all the other festival events. We’d have to arrange for a word-of-mouth campaign. Maybe we could host a juniors’ bracket for people under ten? That’d be different.

I’d learned a lot from my spar with Crost, and a battle junkie like him would surely want to participate. If there were others like him, it'd be enticing, as well as an interesting to test of my skills against theirs.

Although, I wouldn’t be able to compete at all, would I? None of the organizers would. It’d be a direct conflict of interest. There’d be a prize reserved for the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge, but I was still disappointed. My dreams of a tournament victory had been shot down before I could even start, even though I was the one doing the shooting.

Two people who weren’t disappointed were Yuki and Tegen. Both practically buzzed with excitement-anticipation-worry.

Yuki would finally a meet a dear friend in person. Theirs was a pure joy; their excitement spilled over into my own thoughts, and I had to hold back from giggling like a fool. Their only worry was that the hunter wouldn’t like them.

As for Tegen, this was a chance to learn how to wield mana magic. He had an eisendon, of course, so he was able to imbue magic items with his mana and contribute to the village’s core, the dasekua, but casting spells required more. Just like not everyone could sense and/or manipulate qi, not everyone could sense and/or manipulate mana.

I’d originally thought that it only took visualizing the runes, but that proved to not be the case. There was also an X factor required—some combination of sensitivity, willfulness, training, and talents. Otherwise, everyone would be able to use mana.

There were so many times when I’d nearly died after arriving in this world, but mana magic had kept my alive. I’d been luckier and more blessed to be able to use it than I’d realized.

Brujeria ran in my family, and that likely helped. Then there was the role my soul marks potentially played. God-Touched sounded portentous… though I still had no idea what it did. And Mana Door? It turned out that no one else in the village had it.

Oh, they had eisendons—the ritual was universally performed when children turned five—but no one else possessed a soul mark to go with it. At least not in Voorhei, and not among any of my contacts in Albei either.

Just what exactly had Dr. Otter done? The stinker refused to tell me, saying only that she’d needed to trade with a more experienced spirit of the land to make it happen and one of the requirements was keeping the details secret.

One thing was clear in hindsight: I’d made an exchange with her to learn how to use magic, which meant that she’d needed to find a way to guarantee it, or else she would’ve defaulted on the deal.

And she never told me what she’d traded away. All I knew were the results—the spirit journey where I’d met Helen and mi abuelitos, and the soul mark I’d gained afterward:

Mana Door

Silverlight is the only reality, and every being is magical. This soul mark provides access to the freeform mana emitted by silverlight, and allows for the intentional creation of hitherto-unknown magics. Because of the eisendon used, there is minimal efficiency lost, a natural affinity to water, and a small bonus to water-based spells.

The cost of my eisendon and its associated soul mark was a Level 5 magic dagger, which according to the staff at Goost and Pleik’s smithy had been worth almost thirty antaak. I’d had an eye-opening conversation with them about the costs involved in enchanting gear. Even so, I never regretted the exchange with Ikfael—not with how often mana magic had saved my life.

All this was to say that mana magic was rare, and the effort to gain it wasn’t guaranteed or easy. Access to it was an incredible—well, calling it a boon was certainly right. And not just because of the Healing Water spell, either. The most powerful lodge spells required both mana and qi.

No wonder Tegen’s spirit was aflame. The dark thread of worry running through him was overwhelmed by naked desire. His discipline kept it in check, and he participated calmly and rationally in our planning, but his hunger was obvious to me. And apparently the others too, since I saw how they glanced his way.

Mumu kept us talking until about midnight as we drew up a general outline of the tournament and prepared preliminary talking points for convincing Kila’s family to take the job. Only once she was satisfied with that did she give the okay for Yuki to transfer a portion of themselves into Tegen.

If the process worked—and if there were no negative side effects—then Yuki would move over to Mumu and Haol in that order. The boon was too good not to take advantage of it. We’d just have to create a good enough cover story, something like an early burst or wellspring of power that “unfortunately” tapered off into the version of the boon that would be available for the tournament.

As for Teila, Mumu had the necessary authority to allow her to receive the boon, but our lodge master wanted to understand how the process unfolded first. The reality was that Teila’s parents would probably pay any price to give her access to mana magic. If she had that, along with the Wood-Wise talent, she’d be almost guaranteed to become Mumu’s successor, one of the most powerful lodge masters in the village’s history.

Our Mumu took her responsibilities seriously, though, and she would put off the question of Teila until after Tegen’s test, of which the transfer was anticlimactic: Yuki sprouted a small bundle into my palm, which I placed into Tegen’s hand. He hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then Yuki disappeared into him.

Tegen’s face was a mixture of surprise and constipation. Maybe it’d be more generous to call intense inward focus.

Everything okay in there? I asked.

Yuki’s emotions, their affection and care, swept through me. ‘He’s so kind, even more than we thought. His qi is steady and solid, like a thick steak grilled in butter. The damage—one moment—here we are... ah, no wonder he can’t cast spells.’

They went silent, and I felt their attention focus. At the same time, Tegen’s expression became thoughtful.

Mumu asked him. “How is it? Is everything well?”

At the same time, I asked Yuki, Well, can you fix his meridians?

“The feeling is strange,” Tegen said, “but not unpleasant. I can hear Yuki’s voice. They are excitable.”

‘Mmm... he’s not wrong,’ Yuki said with a chuckle. ‘And yes, we should be able to patch him up by grafting from sections of his meridians that aren’t immediately useful. Then, we’ll help him re-grow those missing sections. That way he’ll be able to cast his qi magic sooner—by morning.’

Apparently, Yuki was broadcasting to both Tegen and me, because the other hunter’s eyes widened. “So quickly?”

‘We can probably do it even faster,’ they said, ‘but we want to be careful and go slow. I’ll take longer to fill in the areas from which we’ll be taking the grafts. Three to four weeks, at least.’

“And mana magic?” Tegen asked, his voice tense.

‘We won’t know until we try,’ Yuki said. ‘One thing for certain, though, is that there isn’t enough qi for the refinement process. You’ll need an external source. Ol—Eight used a thunderstorm, but he has a special relationship with lightning.’

“What if the rest of us contribute?” I asked. “Teila is Wood-Wise; a steady influx of her qi should help. And I can meditate throughout to replenish mine.”

‘It’d lead to a slower refinement process, but that should work. We won’t know we until we try.’

“Will someone please explain what’s happening?” Mumu asked, frustration evident in voice and spirit.

Haol and Teila nodded; they’d been watching the proceedings with fascination. Then, when I shared Yuki’s side of the conversation, the hunters looked at each other, almost as if to confirm that the others were hearing the same thing.

The damage that was supposed to take months to treat and cost a fortune was now within a morning’s reach and free. The other benefits were still uncertain, but I trusted Tegen and Yuki to do their best in realizing them.

At the least, I expected us to be able to double Tegen’s qi capacity. That’d be a prize worth having all on its own. And if, as we hoped, Yuki could also help Tegen to sense mana, then our plan for the tournament was sure to succeed.

The next morning, Yuki was all smiles. They chattered on and on about the stories they’d shared with Tegen and what he’d said back. There were some things that were apparently private too, and the uekisheile apologized—genuinely feeling sad—for having to keep them secret. Which was fine with me; I was curious, but friends didn’t have to be open about every little detail of their lives.

If there was something dark and heavy in Tegen’s past, I was willing to help him carry the burden, but only when he was ready for it. That was what friends did for each other.

It was going to be tricky keeping information secret when Yuki and I merged consciousnesses, but we both had our ways. For me, I tucked anything I didn’t want to share deep within my mind, or just didn’t think about it. Yuki did something similar by shuttling the information into a more-disconnected portion of their intelligence. The strategy worked fine too, as evidenced by the whole secret let’s-protect-Eight-from-marriage-proposals thing that Teila had revealed.

Amid all the chatter was also the news that Tegen’s meridians were healed. Yuki tried to pass it off as no big deal, but I sensed the pride swelling under their qi. Plus, there was the perpetually stunned expression on Tegen’s face that gave it away. Another ten days or so were needed to fix the areas where the grafts had come from, but he had access to his spell casting again.

He reluctantly handed Yuki to Mumu so that her meridians could be healed too. The plan was that once the task was done, they’d go back into Tegen to see if they could increase his qi capacity and give him access to mana magic.

“How long until you’re done with Mumu?” I asked aloud.

‘The area affected is smaller, and the damage isn’t as bad. Five hours.’

I relayed Yuki’s estimate to the others, but Mumu had apparently heard them directly. She looked just as dumbfounded as Tegen had.

She’s okay, though? I asked privately. Not freaked out about you inside her meridians?

‘More than a little freaked out,’ Yuki said, ‘but being brave about it. Mostly, she’s reluctant to disappoint Kesa and Inleio by disregarding their advice. Our Mumu is surprisingly careful. Her qi is bold and adventurous, but there’s a layer of…'

I felt Yuki sifting through my memories, and a sense of frustration grew within them as their search turned up empty.

‘We don’t know the word for it, but there’s a respect-adoration-gratitude underlying her interactions with her mentors.’

We already knew that, though, didn’t we?

Feeling cheeky, Yuki replied, ‘Which is why it was okay to share the information with you. That, and she gave her permission.’

You asked?

‘We had to, in case we misunderstood the situation. We’ve learned our lesson about that. ‘Overcommunicating is one of the pillars of a healthy, trusting relationship.’’

Yuki wasn’t wrong, though their words left me wondering. That had sounded like a quote at the end, but I didn’t recall Helen or myself saying anything like it. My memories were the source for their understanding of human relationships, so where had the insight come from?

‘Dr. Samson Young. You read his article 10 Ways to Fix an Oof When You’re an Oaf.’

I have no idea what you’re talking about. Nothing about the author or article sounded familiar to me.

‘You were at the dentist waiting for a routine cleaning,’ Yuki said, excited, ‘and there was a magazine—Loving Today. Dr. Young’s article was featured on the cover. We can recite it for you if you’d like. We had to dig for the text, but have it handy now.’

Uh, maybe later. I wasn’t kidding, either. The article sounded interesting, but now wasn’t the best time—not when Mumu had such a perplexed-curious-constipated look on her face.

“How are you doing?” I asked her.

“The feeling is very strange, like there’s someone else with me in my skin.”

“Ah, that. You get used to it.”

“You would know,” Mumu said.

“My best advice is to relax and enjoy Yuki’s company. They really are an expert at manipulating qi. Your hands are in... ah... good hands.” I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows, hamming it for the joke, but Mumu only offered a pained smile back.

Behind me, I heard Teila groan. “How are your jokes so terrible? It’s like you’re trying to make them as bad as you can.”

Ikfael had idly been watching the morning’s proceedings, but then she chimed in, saying, “He is always like this!”

And those were the reactions I’d been looking for. I turned to smile at the two of them. “It’s an art.”

“It’s a fart,” Haol said, “stinking up the room.”

What-what-what? The Diaksh words for art and fart rhymed? How did I miss that? Argh, I’m such a dunce. And my duncity had ceded a brilliant pun to Haol when it should’ve been mine. Still, the joke boded well for Haol—he’d make a fine father one day. A man after my own fart, as it were.

Unfortunately, the Diaksh for fart and heart didn’t rhyme, so the pun’s only audience was Yuki, who dutifully snickered. Meanwhile, I pretended to be shot in the heart by Haol’s barb and dramatically fell to the ground, dying in long sequence of shakes and gasps.

That got an amused smile from Mumu, and the tension around her eyes eased.

Yuki’s qi blipped. ‘Thank you. Her qi’s flowing more smoothly now.’

De nada, I said, pleased with myself.

After that, the hunters settled down: Mumu meditated to better focus on her qi, while the rest of us moved through the hunters’ stretching regimen, along with a couple of repetitions of our martial forms—the bare-handed and knife ones since they didn’t take up too much space.

Even then, there was only room for one person to go at a time, so people critiqued and offered guidance when it wasn’t their turn. Interestingly, Ikfael also participated in these exercises, although she had to use Knight Otter to demonstrate the martial forms.

Afterward, everyone except Mumu sat in a circle to play bastalt, a game involving the tossing of a knife from hunter to hunter.

There were two rules to it: The first was that when it was your turn to toss the knife, you had to share an animal fact, which the person catching the knife had to repeat. Then, it was the person with the knife’s turn, and they had to state a different fact before tossing it to someone else. The choice of targets was up to the person with the knife, but most hunters—at least those in Voorhei—generally kept things moving around evenly.

The second rule was that knife’s edge had to always be keen, even if you were a brand-spanking-new apprentice and it was your first time playing. That was what made the game at once terrifying and exciting.

I simultaneously looked forward to playing and dreaded it too, so much so that I sometimes wondered if I’d turned into an adrenaline junkie. I’d grown accustomed to the thrill of danger since arriving in this world.

Partway through the game, there came a clapping outside the door. As Ikfael handily caught the knife out of the air using a water pseudopod, Agath announced that the cooks had made us a special meal.

Haol and I went downstairs to retrieve a pot of chochoyotes in a creamy broth. No squab, though; this time the cooks had made it with chicken instead. Well, whatever, the soup was delicious—spiced more lightly than I would’ve preferred, but a solid effort.

I went downstairs afterward to make sure my bodyguards had also gotten some, and it looked like the entire dining room was enjoying the soup for lunch.

An innkeeper came over to ask if I wanted to use the kitchen for another dinner for Ikfael. His wry smile made it clear the offer wasn’t completely selfless, but I agreed anyway—on the condition we’d get our room free of charge for the rest of our stay. After all, they had the honor of hosting a spirit of the land and they’d get to watch me cook every night.

His smile turned even more wry, but it held and he agreed. So, I went to the kitchen to see what they had in stock.

There was a shoulder from an animal about the size of a horse. The cooks explained that it had come from a guatoon, a big lizard with two tails. I’d never seen one before, and was fascinated by how marbled the meat was. I shaved off a thin section, which tasted mild and a little lemony.

It’d make a good chicken-fried steak, except I didn’t have access to wheat flour. My available substitute was barley, which was imported from the nathlein in the north. It’d add a sweet, nutty flavor to the dish. And if that was the case, then I could make fried guatoon and waffles.

There was no vanilla for the waffles, but maple sugar would serve instead. I’d add maple syrup on top too for a decadent mix of crunchy, soft, salty, and sweet. After throwing in some chili pepper for heat, the dish would have it all.

As soon as I described what I wanted, the cooks got the appeal right away. The people of Diaksha weren’t stupid—they knew how to put good food together. My only advantage was that my previous world had had more time to experiment with ingredients and techniques.

The cooks were stiff at first, not used to working with a kid as an equal, but they eventually loosened up. We experimented together to get the proportions right, and after a handful of test dishes, we had the recipe good enough to serve. It’d be pricy because of the barley flour and maple ingredients, but the innkeepers were willing. The chochoyotes had apparently gone over well, and people were talking about them.

Once Mumu’s meridians were healed, she left to consult with the grandmaster. Aslishtei had dropped a couple of bombs the night before, and we needed confirmation the land knight was actually trying the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge in absentia.

Mumu was combat capable again, but Haol went with her, just in case. We briefly considered having her take Yuki too, but caution won out in the end. Silasenei’s eyes were keen, and there was also a chance Aslishtei’s Little Red was surveilling us from some hidden vantage.

The original plan was for Yuki to go back into Tegen to work on his qi, so that was what happened.

The meal that night was fried guatoon steak with waffles and maple syrup. The cooks beamed as the dinner crowd buzzed in delight. Upstairs, Ikfael’s reaction was even more pronounced—she shivered at the first bite and her eyes rolled up in pleasure. She then visibly fought to eat at a moderate pace so that she could enjoy every bite.

Afterward, she sent me downstairs for seconds, and I retrieved two additional plates, which she promptly stored in her pocket. I would’ve gotten more, but they’d already sold out by then. The cooks apologized profusely, and insisted on coming with me upstairs.

Ikfael had to bring out Knight Otter to receive them, and they promised to make more tomorrow. They also expressed their immense gratitude to her for sharing the recipe with them. They’d heard from Voorhei’s hunters about how much Ikfael appreciated good food, but the level of expertise she’d demonstrated was beyond their expectations. They hoped to be able to visit her again to learn more recipes from her.

So yeah, they thought it was Ikfael telling me what to cook and how, and I was just passing the information along to them. She’d gotten the credit for both the chochoyotes and fried guatoon and waffles. That stung a bit, but I squashed the feeling. It was probably for the best, and who knew, maybe they’d one day make a deal with Ikfael? That’d be reward enough for me.

Mumu and Haol didn’t come back until three in the morning. The news… wasn’t good.

31

The Hunters’ Judgement

A candle stone lit the inn room, picking out the ridges of the scar on Mumu’s face, the one she’d gotten from the kalihchi bear. The hunters sat in a half circle in front of her, like wolves gathered around their leader. The dolbecs stood guard outside, while Ikfael’s water barrier blocked the windows. The otter herself sat beside me, her warm body leaning against mine.

We waited for Mumu like only hunters knew how to wait. When she finished gathering her thoughts, she said, “I’ll start with worst news: the levy against our Hunter’s Lodge is eight eistaak.”

We gasped. The amount was quadruple our worst expectations, the equivalent of four hundred antaak.

“Knight Ithia was wrathful. That was how our grandmaster described her—incensed at the loss of a powerful magic-using family so close to the Long Dark. All the good Voorhei has done in the past has been swept away, replaced by her desire to punish us.” Mumu’s fists clenched, then she forced them open and patted her own knee, as if telling herself to calm down. “The land knight’s pronouncement shocked even her closest advisors, and it’s our Silasenei’s conjecture that there was a hidden arrangement between Knight Ithia and the North Wind, something valuable enough that its loss incited her anger.”

“The grandmaster didn’t know what it could be?” I asked.

“Silasenei seemed not as surprised as the others were described to be. That was all I could tell—all that she allowed me to see of her thoughts.”

“And she has no guidance for us?” Tegen asked.

Mumu raised her hand in the sign for stop-danger-ahead. “There’s more.”

Fear crept onto the faces around me, and my own stomach sank at the prospect of more bad news.

“Originally, Knight Ithia also demanded ten hunters”—Mumu swallowed—“a full two hands to be pressed into service.”

We hung on her words. I asked the question we were all thinking. “Originally?”

“The lodges objected, and not just ours and our allies. Others complained too at the land knight’s overreach.”

It took a frustrating handful of seconds to put together the meaning of the last word. It was a phrase in Diaksh, literally translating as “reaching past the food into the fire.”

Mumu continued, “The lodges argued that since we weren’t directly guilty of the crimes, enslavement shouldn’t be required as long as compensation was provided for the value of the lost lives.”

“The lodges were probably worried about the land knight doing this again in order to raid their members,” I said.

“That’s right,” Mumu said, “but Knight Ithia fought back, arguing that those responsible for Borba turning into a murderer must be removed from the lodge, for the safety of all.”

“But Inleio’s dead,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Yet there is a lodge master, so they must take responsibility.”

Haol hadn’t said anything since coming back with Mumu, though his bow creaked with how tightly he gripped it. “Knight Ithia wants to steal our Mumu.”

“Not just me,” Mumu said, looking my way.

The lightning qi inside me crackled. My meridians had been tempered, so usually all that meant was a mild irritability, but my vision went white with how suddenly my anger blazed. “The stupid... I... just... how can she even justify—” I grappled my anger down, and took a series of long, deep breaths. Cool down, calm down, flipping out won’t do any good.

I ran some air mana through my meridians, then did the same thing with water mana. The combination worked together to relieve the scratchy, itchy feeling running through me.

“You and I are to be sold into slavery,” I said.

Mumu shook her head, and blew out a breath. “No, we’re saved from that too. The lodges wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Thank the gods,” Tegen muttered.

“But in turn, Knight Ithia increased the punishment. That was how it came to be eight eistaak. The original compensation was supposed to be six.”

“Our village and all the land around it would cost less than eight eistaak,” Haol said bitterly.

“Not just ours,” Tegen said. “Voorhoos and Voorsowen too.”

Thirty years. If I earmarked every taak earned from the sale of the eilesheile to paying off the debt, it would take thirty years, and that didn’t take into account any interest accrued on it. The lodge would be crushed; we’d be forced into selling off members, forced slavery or no.

Mumu’s voice dripped with acid as she said, “Then the Healer’s Lodge, in all their kindness, offered to lessen the burden. According to Silasenei, they made a case that since Eight found both the Anesthetic and Healing Water spells, he was born a healer. Although he has hunting talents, those talents are a twisting of his original path.”

“They want a valeisten,” I said.

“They do,” Mumu said, “and they offered three eistaak in exchange. And since you’d be a member of their lodge if we agreed, then control of your spells would fall under their care. The dispute between lodges would be resolved, and life would become normal again. Or so they said.”

The fear around me turned into anger. Bits of silver glinted deep from within Mumu’s spirit, Haol growled, and even Teila sputtered in disbelief.

Words heavy with scorn, Tegen said, “They want a ‘normal’ where we live and die based on whether we can afford to pay them.”

“Never,” Mumu said. “We’ll never let them have their way. We are hunters—the spears and arrows, the eyes and ears of our people in the wilderness. Our path will not be bound.”

“We’re with you,” Haol said. “My bow is in your hands, but what do we do?”

“The forest is dark,” Mumu said, “so we must find the path through. We have seen signs of it—the tournament, for example. There are also the bounties from the kalihchi bear and golden slumber, as well as the lodge’s savings and hopefully loans from our allies.”

“We’ll find a way,” I said, my heart beating hard, caught up in the moment.

“That’s what hunters do,” Mumu replied. “We only have to trust in our path and in each other.”

Over the course of the evening, we pieced together the order of events, as well as a couple of interesting tidbits: After her testimony, Aslishtei had come straight to the inn to make an offer on me, and she’d done it with a splash to scare off anyone else who may have been interested. In doing so, she hadn't stayed at the trial long enough to hear the land knight pronounce the punishment, which had clearly been a miscalculation on her part. More importantly, Aslishtei had also missed the lodges arguing against the land knight, including the healers making their own bid for me.

For the Healer’s Lodge to offer three eistaak in comparison to Aslishtei’s two was a remarkable coincidence. Either that, or the healers had had someone at the inn that night spying on us. If that had been the case, though, why had there been no more assassination attempts? Unless it was a different faction from their lodge with a competing agenda?

One relevant point Aslishtei had neglected to mention was that when she’d reported that almost all the land knight’s advisors had argued for excluding us from the trial, she’d also been one of them. In other words, she’d wanted us at a disadvantage and vulnerable so that we’d be tempted by her offer. Instead of trying to build goodwill with us, she’d sought to swoop in and steal me away.

That had been another miscalculation, because from everything I’d heard, no matter how powerful and wealthy Aslishtei’s family was, the Healer’s Lodge was more powerful and wealthier. She must’ve only learned that a bigger predator had set their sights on me after the fact.

Honestly, given how angry the land knight was at the deaths of the North Wind and his family, it was unlikely Aslishtei siding with us would’ve changed anything. Still, it would’ve been nice to have an ally within the Knight Ithia’s inner circle. And who knew, once I was old enough, maybe I would’ve found her nieces, Krenya and Wensatsu, interesting.

It was all a damn shame, and maybe I should’ve been flattered that people were willing to machinate so vigorously for me. Instead, though, I was pissed. As if this world wasn’t hard enough, people had to make it harder.

My lodge faced an existential crisis, and we stayed up until dawn talking through our response.

After our discussions were done, we grabbed a couple hours of sleep before splitting up.

Mumu and Haol planned to start at the Hunter’s Lodge to report our plans to the grandmaster. Afterward, they’d visit the city head’s offices to arrange for the necessary licenses and permissions. Then, after that, they’d go the Soldier’s Lodge to let them know about the tournament and also to hire security for the event. Later, if they had time, they’d start making the rounds of the land soldier barracks to talk up “Ikfael’s Boon.”

It was a full, full day, and none of it was expected to be easy or simple—every step required some level of negotiation and/or persuasion—but the trickiest parts of the plan were left to the remaining hunters.

Tegen was going to be our poster boy for the boon, so he stayed behind at the inn to work with Yuki on refining his qi. Teila was there too, so she could feed the process with her Wood-Wise talent.

Normally, transferring qi from person to person resulted in tremendous inefficiencies, but not when Yuki acted as an intermediary. The result was a thin-but-constant stream feeding the refinement process.

Tegen wouldn’t be able to finish in a day like I had—not unless a huge source of qi suddenly presented itself—but the result should be the same. And if he needed a push at any point, Ikfael was there and willing to contribute her qi. Her participation in the process was, apparently, included in the exchange to support the tournament.

Ideally, Tegen would also learn how to cast mana magic, but that was less of a sure thing. Our Tegen was motivated, though, and I knew he’d make the effort. Even if he failed, the consensus among the hunters was that people would still come out in droves for the prize; the boost in qi capacity was that attractive.

As for me, I went to visit Uncle Kila to arrange for a loan. My bodyguards were with me, but I remained dressed in my own clothes and carried my own gear.

There was no way in hell I’d go looking to borrow money while also wearing the lender’s clothes. I needed to present myself as accomplished, reliable, and most-of-all not poor. Ideally, Mumu would’ve joined me, but she was needed elsewhere, and by going alone, I’d be emphasizing my role as Ikfael’s liaison. The tournament would nominally be hers, after all.

The walk to Uncle Kila’s house felt painfully long, my thoughts jointly occupied by looking for assassins and reviewing my talking points. I must’ve tugged on my sleeves a dozen times, and my stomach felt queasy, even though I’d barely eaten that morning.

This wouldn’t be my first time looking for money—in my previous life I’d helped write grant proposals, pitched projects, and gone to the bank many times. I’d hated putting my future in other people’s hands, but it had been part of the cost of doing business. The difference now was that the stakes had never been so high.

Yuki turned their attention from Tegen to me to check on how I was doing. I felt their care, as they ran a bit of water mana through my meridians to cool me down. ‘Stay focused. We’re with you; just call if you need us.’

I know you are, I said, sending affection their way. It was tinged with nervousness, but all my thoughts and feelings were. How’s Tegen doing?

‘Slow and steady wins the race.’

Descending into aphorisms, are we?

‘They work for a reason,’ Yuki said with a chuckle.

Before I could respond, Grasset stepped closer. “We’re almost there.”

We were at the boundary between the Scathta and Taakta district, and Grasset pointed at a walled three-story building set back from the road. As we got closer, it looked like the wall extended to include two more buildings behind the first, the last of which appeared to be a warehouse.

A guard stood outside and opened the gate for us. Inside the compound, the stone was painted white with gold-and-blue trim. A sheet of copper covered each of the double doors leading inside, with an egret spreading its wings etched into the metal, a fish in its beak.

Another guard stood by the doors, and she nodded to Grasset as we passed through. “Master Imsiikila is waiting for you. One moment.”

There were no windows on the first floor, but the upper ones were dotted with them—the glass tinged slightly green behind decorative-but-no-doubt-still-functional bars. Interestingly, there was no shop on the first floor, like I’d seen in so many other merchant buildings.

Kila’s family were middlemen—selling goods directly to the lodges and other merchant families. From what he’d told me, eighty percent of their products were shipped straight to Ganas Hakei and Sugrusu Hakei, the two closest coastal cities. The deal for eilesheile with the Alchemist’s Lodge was one of the rare exceptions.

We waited briefly in a foyer with doors on each of the walls. Figurines of animals stood on pedestals at the corners. The rug was beautiful: an egret at rest in a pool of still water—a tasteful choice.

The door to our right opened to reveal a boy about my age. He clapped twice, and said, “My name is Kulakuta; you can call me Kuta. Imsiikila is my uncle. You won’t need protection while inside this house, so the bodyguards can rest. Our people will show them to where they can refresh themselves.”

Agath sent me a questioning look, but I nodded to let her know it was okay. Uncle Kila and I were going to be talking about some sensitive topics, and as much as I liked her and Moon, it was for the best if they didn’t listen in.

So, the bodyguards headed left, and Kuta led me to the right, through the door he’d originally come through. It opened into a sitting room in blue. The rug was the color of sapphires; the tapestries were of ships at sea, the waves frosted white; and the cushions looked like cornflowers dotted with white and yellow beads.

Uncle Kila stood in front of a low table, his expression as serious as I’d ever seen it. He came forward to greet me and grabbed both my hands as he said, “Oh, Eight. I don’t know what to say. We heard about the land knight’s decision.”

The news must’ve thrown him off his game, because I saw more clearly into his spirit than I normally could’ve. There were the hard, clear lines that I’d expected, but also a tumultuousness that didn’t seem like him at all.

Well, to be fair, Albei’s bigshots were moving against us.

“You can guess why I’m here,” I said.

“I can,” he said, gesturing toward the table.

As we sat, Kuta served us mugs of something hot and steaming. Then, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

The drink was like atole: ground corn cooked in milk, spiced with the bark of the warm friend tree, and sweetened with honey. In many ways, it was too cozy a drink for the conversation we were about to have, but it soothed my stomach and I welcomed the sugar hit.

“Then let’s get straight to it,” I said. “Ikfael, the spirit of the land, would like to borrow eight eistaak from your family.”

Kila sputtered. “W-what, the spirit of the land? Not you?”

I nodded, and leaned in. “It’d cause too much trouble for you if it was me or the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge, but if it’s Ikfael, then you’re covered. Your family will need to make a deal with her directly, but you and I can work out the details first.”

“But what about collateral, and how will she be able to pay us back?”

“The collateral is my source of eilesheile. It’s yours if we... if she’s not able to pay you back. As for how—” I grinned, the hunter rising within me. “We’re going to hold a tournament, an annual event, and just wait until I tell you the prize...”

32

Kicking the Pyramid I

I left Uncle Kila’s residence, feeling cautiously hopeful. We’d talked through three mugs’ worth of atole, long enough to get invited to a working lunch. From the way his nephew Kuta had rolled his eyes, it seemed to be something Kila did frequently.

Anyway, I’d sold the tournament as best I could, so now it was Kila’s turn to pitch it to his family heads. Fortunately, they’d recently emerged from seclusion and were available to make a decision about the loan.

I worried about not being there to answer any questions they might have, but Kila had said they preferred to meet privately first when discussing big opportunities. They’d call me back if/when they wanted to talk to me personally. As for a time frame on the decision, Uncle Kila had understood the urgency of the ask and had promised to expedite the process.

According to Mumu, we had a couple days for the gears of bureaucracy to turn before the decision against us would be handed down. Traditionally, we’d get a couple of weeks to get the money together, but given the reported tone of the trial, she wasn’t sure we could count on that. We also had to prepare in case Knight Ithia increased the amount owed. There was a decent chance of it happening once she heard about the tournament, in which case we’d ask for more money from Kila’s family.

Had I been convincing enough? I thought so, and my gut agreed, but now it was his turn to win over the family heads.

Let the professional do his thing, I reminded myself. Focus on what’s next.

Agath strode beside me, her armor rustling and the shield on her back clattering against it. “Do we continue as planned and head to the pyramid?"

“Yes,” I said. “They need to be informed about what Ikfael intends.”

She glanced down at me. “I’ve heard of spirits in other cities attending festivals, but this will be a first for Albei. Our other spirits aren’t as accommodating to people as Ikfael.”

On the other side of me, Moon signed, “She has gained in power since the last time we were in Voorhei, and her relationship to the village has deepened. Is that your doing, Eight?”

“I helped to introduce the villagers, but the impetus came from Ikfael herself. The tournament, the Healing Water spell, and everything else comes from her desire to improve humanity’s lot in this region. She’s benevolent that way.”

And that was the cover story we were going with, our best attempt to deflect retaliation against anyone who participated in the tournament—either as a contestant or an organizer. Ikfael was the pillar holding it all up, and the hunters from Voorhei just happened to be the ones closest to her.

It was a flimsy-but-plausible excuse. Ikfael had once been Ikiira—a human with a prior relationship to Voorhei. That should be enough of a hook for people to let them build their own rationalizations for how and why she might do something like this. The trick was to provide just enough information to feed their imaginations, but not so much to overcomplicate the story and tangle ourselves up trying to maintain it.

I crossed my fingers, hoping it’d be enough.

Moon saw my gesture, and asked, “I don’t know that sign.”

“I’m wishing for good luck and everything going to plan.”

He nodded, then crossed his fingers on my behalf. Agath did too.

“May it be so,” she said.

Albei’s pyramid stood as imposing as ever, a burly mountain at the center of the city. There were fewer people present this time—maybe a tenth compared to my last visit. That’d been at the end of the day, though, at a time when people were more likely to stop by to donate their mana to the dasekua, the city’s core.

The pyramid’s southern face was white, but I noticed red accents on many of the animals painted onto it. I spotted buffalo, pumas, serpents, and crows, among others. The stairs leading up to the entrance were steep, and my short legs had to stretch to go from step to step.

As we passed through into the pyramid itself, I saw a pair of massive stone doors on wheels, along with a sophisticated set of gears likely used to help with opening and closing them. The doors looked as sturdy as the rest of the pyramid and would no doubt be difficult to breach when they were closed.

To the immediate left and right were two spheres atop thin, stone pillars. My understanding was that the spheres were connected to the dasekua—a convenient way to contribute mana without having to go to the pyramid’s center.

The rest of the entrance hall was only about as big as a typical bank lobby, which surprised me. Given the pyramid’s size, I’d expected something more substantial. Also, the ground immediately sloped down on all sides, so it looked like there was a sunken floor at the hall’s center. As a result, the room effectively had two levels—an outer rim surrounding a lower area—which meant that someone invading the pyramid would be funneled into the lower level and have to climb back out to get anywhere.

Ringing around the room, world speakers sat on rugs at the ready to provide consultations, while down below were a series of five circular pedestals in a row. A couple of young children stood on two of them, their families watching as their spirits were read.

There were arched doors to the left and right of the hall, while a cased opening opposite the entrance led to a wide corridor. That was where we needed to go, deeper into the pyramid, and Agath showed the way.

There were more doors inside, but we skipped past them, following the gently sloping floor to a jog in the corridor. We turned with it, and kept going until another jog. It was just past that second turn when we arrived at another lobby featuring a sunken floor. There was a sign with directions and doors surrounding the room, but Agath led us past them toward a corridor on the other side.

Here the floor steepened, and I noticed slotted vents above us. Cool air flowed through them, as well as the faint sounds of drums and chanting. The music seemed to permeate the stone around us. As for what was being chanted, the words were difficult to make out save for a couple of names: Aethas and Trintilei.

Aethas was the first creation of the Imperfect God, and the originator of the rest of Diaksha’s pantheon. As for Trintilei, she was a goddess who was sometimes called the Singer or the Fate Weaver.

Embarrassingly, I didn’t know much about either god. My conversations with Sheedi, Voorhei’s world speaker, had been almost exclusively about either Ikfael and her shrine or talents and how they worked.

I recalled that Aethas the Watcher had been born from the Imperfect God’s attempts to find perfection, and when that hadn’t worked, they together had created nine other gods to help, of which Trintilei was one.

Those nine gods had then been responsible for the creation of everything else, as well as the various blessings bestowed on humanity. As a result, they were considered active participants in people’s lives. For example, if nothing else, every child benefited from Meliune’s Blessing until they either turned ten years old or hit Level 1, whichever came first.

All I knew about Trintilei was her blessing: That no one’s will could be controlled by the gods. The gods might manipulate events, warp the fabric of reality, and otherwise put their individual or collective thumbs on the universe’s scale, but people’s choices for how they responded were exclusively their own.

As we walked, my mind uselessly wandered from topic to topic, going down rabbit holes and wondering: how the vents were constructed; about the chances of being able to visit again to listen to the chanting; and if there was a complete list of the gods.

That last item was unlikely, since the original nine had gone on to make a multitude more. And, to complicate matters, the spirits of the land were also considered minor deities. Obviously they weren’t anything close to the level of the “real” gods, but spirits potentially held great sway over people’s lives. We counted on the reverence people felt toward them to smooth the way for us.

Eventually, we ran into the equivalent of a receptionist, one who Agath couldn’t just walk past, and after explaining our purpose to him, he directed us to a cramped little room. There, we were instructed to not sit on the cushion reserved for the world speaker, and to wait.

The room really was tiny, though, so there was barely enough room for the dolbecs and their gear. I was forced to sit in Agath’s lap while Grasset stood outside in the corridor.

No one on my team or among my bodyguards knew exactly how we should proceed from this point onward—none of them had done anything like this before—so we settled on the idea of working our way up the chain of command, aiming for as high in the world-speaker hierarchy as possible to gain support for the tournament.

Agath’s suggestion had been to walk as deeply into the pyramid as possible until we were stopped. So far so good.

The cramped little room we were in didn’t bode well, though, especially since I was Ikfael’s liaison. But at the same time, it was an eight-year-old making the request. Maybe the receptionist didn’t believe me? Did they have a lot of young masters stopping by, demanding to see someone in charge?

After twenty minutes, I was fed up with stewing in my worries, and I closed my eyes to meditate. Moments later, I was distracted by Agath petting my head like I was cat. I bore with it, though; if it helped to calm her own nerves, I didn’t mind.

It was a bit much when she passed me over to Moon so that he could take a turn. I’d just opened my eyes and was about to say something when the door opened.

Sheedi entered in mud-splattered blouse, trousers, and boots. Her hair, which was normally neatly ordered with pins, was windblown and scattered. She was dawn, but her agitation was so great I was able to see the irritation-upset-concern being riled up from within.

Sheedi the World Speaker (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Fire-Touched, Skilled Interpreter, Calm, Ambitious

Nascent: Insuppressible

“I came as soon as I heard,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

Sheedi listened intently, belying the mad rush it must’ve taken for her to get to Albei so quickly. Her questions interrupted my retelling of recent events, but they were rarely about the events themselves and instead were focused on the people who’d performed them.

Aslishtei garnered special attention, as did Vorkut the Master Healer. She also cared about Sondo the Captain of the Gates, Wusta of Crunei’s Garden, Ereinwa the Alchemist, and of course Ikfael too—about our spirit of the land’s wellbeing, her reactions to what had happened, and her intentions moving forward.

I watched Sheedi as we talked, and there was a fever deep within her eyes—a heat I’d never seen before. Normally, she carried herself with a kind of rehearsed ease, but this was a glimpse of her real self.

From her talents, I knew she was Ambitious, and I’d also learned from the gossip around Voorhei that our village was not her first choice in assignments. No, she’d apparently been forced out of Albei, although the explanations the villagers gave were all remarkably implausible—everything from stealing a valued treasure from the hierophant to setting a rival on fire.

In our prior conversations, she’d never revealed the reason. When I’d asked, she’d said that she was “taking a rest from Albei.” That was clearly preposterous, given what I knew of her, but I never pressed for the truth. People should be able to keep their secrets. For me to say otherwise would be baldest hypocrisy.

The fire in Sheedi grew when I explained Ikfael’s newfound power to increase a person’s qi capacity, as well as giving them the chance to learn mana magic. She grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me from Agath’s lap, her face only inches from mine.

“Is this true?” she demanded.

“It’s not unlimited; Ikfael will only be able to do it once a year and for just two people.”

“The influence you can wield with this ability—”

“Is too dangerous,” I pointed out. “Ikfael herself said so. She wants to help, but not if it endangers the peace, of either her territory, or of Voorhei.”

“But, but... she could be so much more than she is right now. Entire cities would worship her for a chance at this boon of hers.”

“They would,” I said, “and it’s not that she doesn’t want to grow more powerful—just that she has her own priorities and responsibilities.”

Sheedi stared into my eyes, searching for the truth in them. It was a weird, weird time to get a skill notification.

Barter has increased from 6 to 7.

“I see,” Sheedi said, and put me down gently. “I apologize. I know you’re an adult, and that was inappropriate.”

I waved off her apology. “This means a lot to you, I get it. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just, please help. We... Ikfael needs as much support as possible behind this plan, and that includes from the world speakers. We can’t let people feel like they can obstruct it just because our Hunter’s Lodge is involved.”

Sheedi nodded, and I saw the thoughts whirling in her head. There was still fire in her eyes, but now it was joined with speculation. “This new power,” she asked, “do you know its source? Is it possible to get more?”

“A fortuitous encounter in the past that’s only now become evident to us,” I said, and technically every word of that was true. “My team is currently taking advantage of a... let’s call it an initial wellspring of the boon. The power will stabilize afterward, though, and become more limited.”

“Ah... a shame.” Sheedi sat back, brushing a hand behind her ear. Her spirit was hard to read, but she appeared surprised to find her hair loose, and she adjusted the pins to bring everything back in order. It was fascinating to watch—how she used the process to settle her mind and emotions. By the time she was done, it was like I was facing the usual Sheedi, only muddier.

“So, you’ll help?” I asked.

She smiled—the kind I was used to from her. “Yes, my dear Eight, and I know exactly what needs to be done.”

Sheedi gestured for me to follow, so I collected my bodyguards, and she led the way back toward the direction we’d come. She walked like we were her entourage, taking pride of place at the front, the rest of us trailing after.

World speakers watched her go past—some surprised, some pleased, and some angry. All of them, though, recognized her. And once she’d gone past, a few ran off, like they had important news to deliver.

A part of me worried that by recruiting Sheedi to our cause we’d be inviting trouble, since there were clearly unknown political currents at work. At the same time, our world speaker had a stake in our success. She’d do whatever it took.

Sheedi wasn’t a friend. We didn’t know each other well enough for that—hadn’t had the time or opportunities to earn each other’s trust—but as I watched her striding ahead of me, I decided that I’d rather bet on her than anyone else I’d seen in the pyramid. She wasn’t quite Insuppressible yet, but she was getting there.

“What’s your plan?” I asked, hurrying to catch up. “How are we going to do this?”

Sheedi glanced my way. “Have you ever considered the great many stones at the bottom of a pyramid? That’s the life of most world speakers, so if you don’t want to be one of the bottom stones, you make choices... choices that don’t always lead to where you want them to.”

“Is that what happened to you?” I asked.

“I was once outplayed,” Sheedi said, “and trusted someone I shouldn’t have. I’ve learned better since, and can now recognize who’s reliable and who’s not.”

“You mean Voorhei’s hunters.”

“Some more than others,” she said with a smirk. Then she laughed to see the surprised expression on my face.

In my defense, though, I’d never known she had it in her to smirk. Sheedi had always seemed to be above it somehow.

She continued: “I’ve also learned that the best way to win is to make it so that you can’t lose—where every choice your opponent makes ultimately leads to your own victory.”

“That sounds hard to pull off,” I commented.

“There’s an elder among the world speakers named Iseld, who is third under the hierophant. She respects talent above all else, and if we can impress her, she should be willing to listen to us. Then, once we have her attention and tell her about Ikfael’s Boon, she’ll agree to almost anything.”

“And that sounds too good to be true,” I said.

“What’s good is that her son possesses remarkable talents in magic, and is also remarkably incompetent at the same time. He wanted to marry me, yet I refused. He has no sense for qi or mana, and is the worst kind of stump: One blessed with talents that remain locked away by ineptitude. He thought the children produced by our marriage would make up for his uselessness.”

“His mother is the one who sent you to Voorhei,” I said.

“One of them,” Sheedi admitted. “I thought being Fire-Touched would protect me, but it didn’t.”

“You want us to bribe her,” I said.

“Bribe is such an ugly word. We are assuring her cooperation.” Sheedi straightened her shoulders, and turned to look ahead. “And if not her, then others. There is no losing. I will get what I want, but so will you and the hunters of your lodge.” After a couple more strides she said, “There’s a saying among world speakers: ‘It’s difficult to kick the pyramid.’ What it means is that the base is too stable for anything to change. We must upend the pyramid first, then kick it to get what we want. That is the only way for it to spin.”

To say that I had reservations about this plan of hers was an understatement, but from what I could see, Sheedi genuinely believed what she was saying. She had faith in this plan of hers.

“Okay, I’m in.”

33

Kicking the Pyramid II

At the pyramid’s entrance, Sheedi admired the new map of my spirit that she’d just made. “You don’t like to sit still, do you? Almost dawn and you’re not even ten years old yet. You’ll have to tell me the story later, but not now. We have work to do.”

Sheedi rolled up the spirit map and poked her head into one of the side rooms. She said something I didn’t catch, and a couple of people practically launched themselves out the door. They briefly glanced my way before scurrying down the corridor leading back into the pyramid.

“What’d you tell them?”

“Only that I was here to meet with Honored Iseld. Word has already spread that I’m here, and now they know why.” The last was said with a look of satisfaction. “Go ahead. You know what to do.”

“You’re sure this is the best approach?” I asked.

“Very sure.” Sheedi’s eyes sparkled, and it was clear: She was enjoying herself. Whatever had been holding her down before, she was casting it off now.

So, I gestured for my guards to follow and led them out of the pyramid.

“I don’t like this plan,” Agath said, her brow furrowed.

I was right there with her, but Sheedi was our expert on the world speakers. If she thought this approach was our best shot, then I’d give it a try.

Yuki was busy helping Tegen refine his qi, but I nudged them. A quick merge and separation later, they were up to date on the plan.

‘Sheedi isn’t a friend,’ they said, ‘but we like her.’

And I’m confident I can pull off my part, I thought. There were butterflies in my stomach, but I was used to them these days. There was nothing wrong with a little excitement.

“Be bold,” Moon signed.

Agath tsked, and said, “Be safe.”

‘Have fun storming the castle!’ Yuki chimed in.

I nodded to the dolbecs, and sent a grin at Yuki.

Good luck to you too, I thought, feeling their focus shift back to Tegen.

At the bottom of the stairs, no one seemed to be paying attention to us, but I tucked in close to my bodyguards to shield myself from view anyway. Then, I handed my spear and bow to Grasset, and cast my Camouflage and Scentless Hunter spells.

It was fortunate the pyramid wasn’t busy yet; I didn’t have any trouble jogging back up toward the entrance. Just as I was getting close, a big family clogged the path, but I only had to step off for a moment to wait for them to pass. Inside, Sheedi stood with an air of care-free confidence about her. If only her fingers didn’t twist among each other so much, I’d think she was truly worriless.

I crept up next to her and whispered, “I’m here.”

She gave a quick nod as if deciding on a course of action, and then walked into the pyramid with me following behind.

I noticed that the drums and chanting were louder than before, and the piece being sung was in honor of Barakas the Warrior. It was his blessing that let every being intuitively sense their Status so that they could test themselves appropriately.

Sheedi snorted and muttered, “How fitting.”

Down into the pyramid we went, the air subtly vibrating with the pounding of drums. In the second lobby, we found a group of world speakers gathered like geese, and their necks stretched to watch Sheedi pass through. A couple of them even followed at a distance.

At the third lobby, Sheedi took us through a side door, and the corridor narrowed. There were a couple more turns, and it felt like we were in a maze. Sheedi didn’t slow, though, and moved like she’d been born and raised within these walls.

Eventually, we passed through an invisible boundary; I felt something similar every time I left or entered Ikfael’s Glen.

“Is this a spirit of the land’s territory?” I asked, whispering. “They’ll sense my presence.”

Sheedi surreptitiously shook her head. With her hand hidden against her leg, she signed, “Human magic. No worry. Not see you.”

Still, I got the runes for Hollow Night ready. The spell was incredibly powerful but came with a major disadvantage: It made you disappear to all senses, but you also lost all sense of the world. Effectively, in casting the spell, you cut yourself off from the universe.

The Hunter’s Lodge included it among the apprentice-level spells as a trump card for losing a dangerous animal’s attention, except its usefulness was so niche hardly anyone learned it—only nerds like me who bought every spell available.

As we approached the corridor’s end, we heard the murmur of voices. There was some kind of meeting room ahead. Sheedi stopped to take a breath and square her shoulders. The moment drew out long enough for the people who’d been following us to get closer.

I checked them with my Status camera, but neither were anything special. Unless being a Toady counted. How was that even considered a talent? Maybe he got bonuses when following other people’s orders?

In front of me, Sheedi finished gathering her courage and strode forward. I padded after her. It was time to spy on a bunch of world speakers.

The room was square, about sixty feet by sixty feet, and Honored Iseld sat on a dais at the far end. People crowded the rest of the space, sitting on cushions. There was a path running down the middle between two sections. It was like stepping into a small theater set up for a one-woman show.

There were closed doors on each of the other walls, and a painted, domed ceiling above. The design was gorgeous, with a series of stylized layers at the base. Within those layers were various animals crawling, running, or flying. They framed a tall, brooding mountain at the painting’s center, and on top was a large serpent looking on impassively.

Air vents were set into the walls, and the sound of chanting was a steady beat in the background. I slid out from behind Sheedi to position myself next to a vent, which I hoped would cover any noise I might accidentally make. Plus, the room smelled of wet wool and dried sweat, as well as an undercurrent of flowers. Someone wore an unfortunately cloying perfume, so it was easier to breathe next to the vent.

As for Honored Iseld, she was a middle-aged woman with a wide face and long salt-and-pepper hair tied into a knot. She wore what looked like a full-length, grape-colored skirt, but more impressive was the jaguar fur draped over her shoulder. A gold clasp in the shape of the animal’s claw held it in place.

The impression I got from her expression and posture was that she was peeved. Her spirit didn’t give anything away, though, and when I looked with my Status camera, I saw:

Iseld the Stone-Horned Ox (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Earth-Touched, Skilled for Money, Talents Ascendant

Iseld only had three talents, which was surprising for someone in her position. What she lost in quantity, though, she made up in quality, and the big one was Earth-Touched. I’d already noted from my experiences in Voorhei how that single talent could be the basis of a family’s wealth and power.

I’d never seen anything like Skilled for Money or Talents Ascendant before—neither appeared to be common, at least not within my limited scope of experiences—but I had a hunch they were also potent. Otherwise, Iseld wouldn’t have been in the position she was.

Two women sat adjacent to the dais. They faced the crowd, making them seem like her assistants or bodyguards. They didn’t look happy to see Sheedi, and one stood in anger at her entrance. A length of stone slid from the floor into the bodyguard's hands, and she used it to block the path to Iseld. Shocked, I checked with my camera and saw both were also Earth-Touched.

The crowd’s murmuring quieted as Sheedi walked toward the dais. Halfway, she stopped to clap twice. “I am Sheedi, world speaker of Voorhei and bond to the shrine keeper of the spirit of the land named Ikfael. I come to petition Honored Iseld.”

It took me a second to parse the middle section, but the words implied a relationship between her and me. I mean, she was technically my boss in my role as shrine keeper, which Yeah, okay, I can see how that could be a big deal. I just didn’t normally think of it that way, because the job only paid an eltaak a week.

About then, my Scentless Hunter ran out, so I decided to let it lapse. The funk in the room was strong enough that I shouldn’t have to worry about anyone smelling me out. And since I was being still, the expenditure of qi from Camouflage slowed dramatically.

Iseld gestured for her assistant to sit down, and the woman did, placing the stone staff within easy reach. For a while, nothing else happened—just the rustling of clothes and murmur of audience members whispering to each other. The tension in the room steadily increased, but Sheedi stood tall. She held her gaze steady and focused on Iseld. No one else appeared to matter.

The room seemed to sigh when Iseld finally spoke. “You may approach.”

Sheedi nodded, barely enough to be polite, and did as she was told.

“You’re looking well,” Iseld said. “Life in the countryside must suit you.”

“I’m pleased to report my assignment to Voorhei has been successful. The humility that Honored Iseld so urgently demanded I learn, the spiritual development of the villagers, and even the most important task given to me—the identification of valuable human resources—all have been achieved.”

Iseld’s voice was dry as she said, “In only four years? Remarkable. We”—she gestured to the assembled world speakers—“assumed a dozen or two before you met just the first of the requirements.”

“I was blessed,” Sheedi responded, “to meet people and beings who opened my eyes to the wonders of the World Spirit and the beneficence of the gods.”

Ah, there was a word I didn’t know, though the meaning was clear from the context. Also evident was the antagonism between the two speakers. You could start a fire from the sparks flying. In Fire-Touched Sheedi’s case, that might even be literally true.

“So,” Iseld said, “what proof do you have of these wonders? This beneficence?”

Sheedi smiled and, with a flourish, unrolled the spirit map in her possession. She placed it gently on the dais, so that Iseld could look at it. Members of the audience shifted, angling for a better view.

Iseld looked up after a couple minutes’ perusal. “Is this the famed Mulallamu? She has the makings of a fine hunter and lodge master. Voorhei will be in good hands. I don’t see, however, how you can claim credit. This hunter was already known to the world speakers.”

“This is another, a resident of Voorhei.” Sheedi’s smile spread in anticipation. “And he is only eight years old.”

“Impossible! No countryside family has the resources to raise a child to this degree.”

“Oh, there’s more. Note on the map the area above the heart—the one shaped like an otter. That is a spirit of the land’s blessing. This child is the bond I spoke of. He is the shrine keeper, and speaks for the spirit Ikfael.”

“Our understanding is that the spirit is a minor figure. She could not have arranged growth like this.” Iseld pointed to the map.

“Honored Ikfael has dramatically grown in power and gained truly astonishing abilities.”

Iseld rubbed her chin, thinking, her attention alternating between Sheedi and the map. “We’ve heard that she is visiting Albei. That is most unusual.”

“It’s the strength of her relationship with her shrine keeper.”

“They’re that close?” Iseld asked.

“They are.”

“Will he become her beloved?”

“That I don’t know,” Sheedi said. “We understand too little of the beloved, but I’m observing them carefully. What I learn, I will of course share.”

As Iseld continued to consider the situation, I got myself under control. Her mentioning the beloved had surprised me and caused my heart to jump. They’d been a topic of interest ever since meeting the silver wolves during the summer. Their leader, Moonlight, was the beloved of Leiluminwei, the spirit of the land whose avatar was an egret.

Neither Ikfael nor Sheedi had been able to comment on what the beloved were or how they came to be. Ikfael because it was apparently secret, and Sheedi because she didn’t know much. However, it sounded like the world speaker knew a bit more than she’d let on. Maybe not much more, but some.

Iseld offered a non sequitur next, saying, “That was an unusual turn of phrase earlier: human resources. The meaning is understandable, but there’s an unexpected weight to it.”

“The words are born from my meditations on the World Spirit,” Sheedi replied. “They are part of an insight I’ve gained on the recruitment and development of the people under my care.”

“Interesting,” Iseld commented. “You approach us with open hands—sharing all you hold. This is not the world speaker who I sent into the countryside four years ago.”

“I am not who I was,” Sheedi said, then her smile turned cunning. “I’ll also note that I did not elaborate on the nature of Ikfael’s new powers. Those are perhaps best left to a more private conversation.”

A gesture accompanied her last words, and whatever it was caused Iseld’s eyes to sharpen. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then she asked, “You will arrange a meeting for me with this young hunter?”

“Yes,” Sheedi said, the word triumphant.

“Then you’ve done enough to warrant a private audience. I warn you, though, if you waste my time…” The rest was left unsaid, the threat left in the air.

Whoever Sheedi had been before, the result was that she was still a polarizing figure. There were a handful of people in the audience upset she’d gained even a smidgeon of Iseld’s favor, while others breathed sighs of relief, and some looked on as if they’d seen a wonderful show.

One of Iseld’s assistants called the assemblage to a close, and the audience slowly trickled out into the corridor, with many reluctant to leave. Those people lingered to catch more of the drama, but the players resolutely stayed silent until everyone left.

Then the assistants left too, closing the door behind them until it was just Sheedi and Iseld left. Well, and me too by my spot next to the vent.

Iseld sighed, and her posture… while she didn’t exactly slump, some of the tension went out of her. “This better be good. I’m still furious with you, and so is my Mura. He’s found a good match, but the shame you brought him lingers.”

Sheedi nodded. “I heard he’d gotten married. Have they had children yet?”

“A baby girl,” Iseld said, her eyes brightening. “Fat like a dumpling and just as delicious.”

“I’m glad,” Sheedi said, and it sounded like she meant it.

Which somehow seemed to sour Iseld’s mood. “So what’s this private business of yours?”

“Ikfael can help Mura learn to sense his qi, and maybe his mana too,” Sheedi said, cutting straight to the chase.

Iseld scrambled to standing. She grabbed Sheedi by the shoulders, while heedlessly treading on the map of my spirit. “Is this true?”

“I’ve just met with Voorhei’s hunters, and they’re in the process of confirming this new ability. There appear to be limitations, but they’re confident enough to have made an agreement with Ikfael for its use. An exclusive agreement.”

“The fools—”

“No. Listen: They call it Ikfael’s Boon, and they have a plan for how to share it, reserving a portion for themselves.”

Iseld turned her head, thinking furiously. “That could work, but they’d still need protection.”

“And so, I am here,” Sheedi said.

“What do you want?” Iseld asked. “To come to Albei? That’s easily done, but in exchange, I get access to the boon for my people.”

“Just Mura,” Sheedi said, shaking free. She raised a hand to stop Iseld’s objection. “Wait, let me tell you how they plan to distribute the boon, and then you’ll understand why.”

And so, the tournament was explained. Iseld wasn’t a patient listener and frequently interrupted with questions about the details—things like who’d be invited and what would be done to honor them, how we’d handle the extraordinary substances people often used to enhance their performances, and what the tournament’s timing would be within the larger festival. We could easily offend some very important people by accidentally scheduling against their events.

The points she raised were good ones, and I made note of them all, including the names of anyone she mentioned. The good news was that Sheedi had tentative answers to some, and Uncle Kila could likely help with the rest. I felt that between the two, and maybe even Iseld if she came on board, we should be okay for navigating the twisting paths of Albei’s social scene.

Iseld took her time to think the proposal through. She put her hands behind her back and paced the length of the dais. “We’d need to move quickly,” she muttered. “And arrange for a loan to pay their debt.”

“Voorhei’s hunters are pursuing a loan already.”

Iseld grunted in acknowledgment, and the tension in Sheedi’s shoulders eased a bit. I unclenched my fists, and carefully breathed a little easier. If Iseld had thought that far ahead, then odds were she’d agree to back the tournament.

She paused her pacing. “You didn’t answer my question. I understand already what Voorhei’s hunters need from me, but what do you want? To return to Albei?”

“Just your sponsorship of the tournament. Ikfael’s shrine will do the rest.”

Sheedi’s response visibly surprised Iseld. “That’s unlike you.”

“I told you before. I am not who I was.”

“You have tamed your ambitions,” Iseld said.

But Sheedi shook her with smile. “No, they’ve grown.”

Iseld frowned, and said, “Just Mura isn’t enough. The boon that would go to Voorhei’s hunters, I want it for my people on alternating years. In exchange, I’ll agree to back the loan to pay their debt and support this tournament of theirs for as long as it continues. You know how things are, problems will arise, especially once word begins to spread.”

“I’ll have to bring this offer to them for a decision,” Sheedi said.

“If they’re not fools, they’ll agree. It’s as good an offer as they’ll get anywhere else and with fewer complications.” Iseld then hopped down from the dais and clasped hands with Sheedi. “I haven’t forgiven you for my son's humiliation, but this—if you bring me this, there will be peace between us.”

“I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow morning.”

“And it will be positive; make it so. In the meantime, I will send my people out to smooth the way.”

Sheedi turned to leave, missing the long, considering gaze at her back. I stayed, quieter than a mouse, and planned to follow Iseld to see what she did next. It was the insurance Sheedi had requested of me to make sure we wouldn’t be betrayed.

To my surprise, though, Iseld didn’t go anywhere. She stayed in the audience hall until well after the door had closed behind Sheedi.

“You heard that?”

My heart jumped. I thought I’d been caught, and hurriedly cast Scentless Hunter—

But then a woman appeared between Iseld and me, her back to me. She’d been there this whole time, yet I’d somehow failed to recognize her presence. It was similar to what I did when becoming one with the land, but to a much more potent level.

The woman was sitting on a cushion and wore everyday garb. Nothing about her stood out, and she looked like any other world speaker I’d seen in the pyramid. I checked her Status:

Silasenei the Grandmaster of the Hunter’s Lodge (Human, Silvered)

Talents: Born Hunter, Knife Friend, Persistent Survivor, Ear for Trouble, Shadow-Touched, The Hidden Piece

Oh, hells, I thought, and my alarm startled Yuki, snapping their attention from within Tegen back to me. Then, we both clamped down hard on our reactions—quickly melding together to sink even more deeply into the land. We made our gaze mild and slowed our heart, our breathing, and even the pace of our thoughts.

We became the stale, cloying air; the heaviness of the stones; the vibrations of the drums carrying the prayers of singers toward the heavens. And just in case, we brought the rune for Hollow Night to mind once more.

“I did,” the hunters’ grandmaster said. “It appears the news I brought has already been shared.”

“Voorhei’s tournament?” Iseld asked. Then when Silasenei nodded in response, she probed further: “What does Ithia intend?”

“Nothing for now. She’s made her spite known, and is busy working around the loss of the North Wind and his family. Her communications with our counterparts in Ganas and Sugrusu have been slowed, but not crippled.” Silasenei got up to examine the spirit map still sitting on the dais.

Iseld gestured toward it. “He’s as impressive as you said. That whole team is coming along well. Give them a few more years, and they’ll easily stand beside the best, even from as far away as Maltra.”

“Maltra isn’t so far away, as we both well know,” the grandmaster replied.

“That’s a truth told.”

“And my poor hunters of Albei don’t compare?” Silasenei asked, the sides of her mouth lifting.

“They do—we ensure it—but their potential is lacking. That’s what I sense from Mulallamu and the rest of her team: potential. They’re all good enough to hit silvered if they’re willing to chase it.”

“Assuming they survive long enough,” Silasenei said.

“There’s that truth too, and it always will be.” Iseld sighed, then took the spirit map from the grandmaster. “What does Knight Ithia bid of me?”

“Do as your talents urge you to. They are in line with her intentions.”

“She’s not upset Voorhei’s hunters resist her punishment, that they’ve escaped her poaching them?”

“Oh, she is, but our land knight is practical above all else. She’s occupied fighting off Maltra’s encroachment along the coast, yet she understands the potential this tournament holds for her people. We are blessed to have her, truly.”

“A certain lodge surely doesn’t think so.”

“They made a mistake and must suffer its consequences. Voorhei’s hunters must sharpen their spears to survive. They will either grow stronger, or break.” Silasenei scanned the room, her eyes sliding past where we were hidden. She cocked her head, and listened. “How fares Xefwen?”

Iseld’s expression turned complicated. “The hierophant’s obsession with Old Baxteiyel continues. His eyes see nothing but the ruins and the treasures they hold. He is a proud man, and refuses to be”—she cleared her throat—“‘Ithia’s dog.’ Those were the words he used.”

“As long as he doesn’t oppose us, then we’ll manage.”

“It is as you say.” Iseld adjusted her cape, and prepared as if to leave. “What about the healers?”

By silent agreement, Silasenei joined her, and they walked toward the door leading to the corridor. “Once again, Voorhei’s hunters will need to sharpen their spears or break. How else will they find their Path to Perfection?”

“How else indeed.”

At the door, Silasenei glanced in our direction, but her gaze didn’t seem to catch our presence. We were the wall and the vent and the lingering scent of honeyed flowers. The grandmaster blinked, then tilted her head. Halfway through her step, she seemed to slow, and then her foot touched ground and she kept walking, opening the door for Iseld as any world speaker might.

Had she sensed us? We didn’t think so… but enough doubt remained that we were unsure.

34

If at First You Don’t Succeed

We waited a full hundred breaths before looking out the door. There was no one. The corridor was devoid of both life and ghosts. If only that were of comfort. Silasenei’s presence had gone completely unnoticed by Ollie/Eight earlier. Would our combined consciousness do any better?

Slowly, we eased our way up the passage toward the third lobby, passing through the spirit boundary Ollie/Eight had encountered before. We had no new insights regarding it other than it felt like the skin of a soap bubble.

Ahead, two world speakers leaned against a wall; their Statuses were clear of anything unusual. They gossiped about what they’d just seen, as well as the implications for those jockeying for Iseld’s favor. We lingered in case anything valuable dropped, but it was drivel worse than the telenovelas in Ollie/Eight’s memory.

Into the room skipped the ghost of a young woman following a spinning top on the ground. She ignored us, and we ignored her. One day, when things settled down, perhaps we’d come back to help her move on. The evidence that her throat had been cut still remained on her shade’s body.

The corridor to the second lobby was busy with people traveling to and fro, so we slid in behind a group walking toward the pyramid’s exit. They’d been assigned to bless a newborn in the Taakta district and give them their eisendon. The group vibrated with excitement. They expected good food and gifts beyond what was usually owed to the pyramid for the service.

We followed them, our eyes roving, searching for anything that might hint at Silasenei in hiding. There was nothing, however, even when checking the shadows and the open air with our Status camera. All the way to the exit, down the ramp, and around the area our bodyguards waited for us—the immediate area was clear of threats.

Yuki’s attention was needed inside Tegen, so we separated our consciousnesses and I fell back into myself with a soft-breathed sigh. Silasenei hadn’t seen me.

My guards stood a couple dozen yards off from the pyramid’s base. They looked to be conferring, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying until I was almost upon them.

It was more gossip, this time from the Soldier’s Lodge. Their grandmaster—a man named Ossul—had become a father again with his twenty-third child. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard, but no, the guards were all quite impressed with his astonishing fertility.

“I’m here,” I whispered.

The bodyguards startled, but quickly settled back to normal. “All’s well?” Agath asked.

I got in between her and Moon before letting my spells lapse. “Well enough. Where’s Sheedi? I expected her to be here.”

Grasset responded, “The world speaker asked us to tell you that she’s gone ahead to speak with Imsiikila.”

“Did she say anything about what I should do now?”

Agath shook her head. “Only that she’ll meet with you and Ikfael later. She was very animated when talking about the spirit of the land.”

I signaled that I didn’t know one of the words, and Moon kindly pantomimed it for me. Then, he and the others waited while I thought about next steps. Events in the pyramid had gone better than expected, and faster too. I’d planned for it to take all afternoon.

Where can I do the most good right now? I thought. A meeting with Captain Sondo? I wasn’t a fan of his, but he clearly wielded power among the land soldiers, and I doubted Mumu and Haol would have time to get to him today. I should probably talk to Aslishtei as well. Even if she’s terrible, Ikfael’s Boon will be of interest. There’s Crunei’s Garden too. I can picture Wusta entering his whole family into the tournament.

And that was just two families out of who knew how many in the city. It was hard not to be excited; the tournament was going to be a smash.

We need a good name, though. Something like Ikfael’s Tournament of Magic. No, that’s too boring. The Magic Games? I shook my head at the lack of pizzazz. Since the prize was a chance to strengthen and awaken magical powers, maybe something along those lines?

My bodyguards fell in around me as I started walking toward the Geista district. Both Aslishtei’s and Wusta’s families lived out that way, so it’d be the most efficient place to start. I kept an eye out for assassins. Nothing had happened for several days now, but—

My spirit eyes caught a flicker of movement from between two buildings at the plaza’s edge; it was someone skulking. Their spirit flared, and I immediately slammed an Air Shield up, the mana swirling and making the magic a reality. The air cracked in the distance—a Spiral Pierce spell—and the crossbow bolt that had been targeting me deflected. It splintered as it hit the ground, gouging the stone. Then, the bolt’s remains caught fire and burned to ash in moments.

I took off after the lean form of the man I’d glimpsed. Dog’s Agility buzzed through me, making me faster than my bodyguards. My steps launched me across the stone pavers, the crisp fall air snapping my cloak.

My spear and bow were still with Agath and Moon, but I had my knives in their sheaths, as well as an intense desire to pay back the bastard who’d shot me through the heart—and just tried to again. The anger roused Yuki’s attention, pulling them to me.

‘Again?’ they asked.

Yes, but this time we’ll catch him.

I arrived at the space between buildings—it was too narrow to call it an alley—and found the area blazing. There were the remains of a cleansing fire at its center. People shouted in alarm from the adjacent buildings.

The flames ate at the qi in the area, but it’d do my assailant no good—he’d underestimated me. I could just pick up his scent farther down the narrow passage. I backed up for a running start, while Yuki pumped qi into Bear’s Strength for me. Using that along with Dog’s Agility, I flew over the fire, tucking into a roll on the other side. Behind me, Moon blasted through the flames with his shield.

He tried to grab me—to get me behind him—but I slithered out of his grip. “Not yet, I need pick up his trail.”

The land was only a breath away, so I sank into it. The yelling nearby grew louder, and there was a commotion near the pyramid as people noted the fire and our response to it.

And ahead—I brought my nose to the ground to inhale—I smelled mud and leather. There was a heaviness too that reminded me of oiled steel and discipline. The qi left behind was unfamiliar. Whoever he was, he wasn’t someone I knew.

“This way,” I said.

In the time I’d lingered, the others had caught up.

“Let us get ahead of you,” Agath said. Her voice was tense, worried.

“When the path opens,” I replied, not wanting anything to interfere with following the assassin’s trail.

The path ended in a T where another building stood in the way, and I took a right turn, then a left when we ran into another intersection. That led us to a crowded street, with clusters of people walking past. Some were rambunctious; there were others who were soft and serious. A cart rumbled by, its cargo covered with a tarp. My spirit eyes saw nothing alive hidden under it.

The trail headed deeper into Scathta, and I jogged after. Unhappy with me exposed at the fore of our group, Agath and Moon ran to get in front of me, while Grasset brought up the rear. We drew looks, curiosity following us as we moved.

Within me, three different talents worked together to keep us on the assassin’s trail: Qi Sensitive, Uncanny Tracker, and Spirit Hunter. I tasted frustration from the qi left behind from the assassin—a pent-up anger and righteousness.

“They may be leading us to an ambush,” Agath said.

“I’m aware,” I said from within the land’s embrace.

“If a fight starts, let us do our jobs,” she said.

“We’ll all do what’s necessary,” I replied.

My eyes flicked from person to person, hunting for anyone nervous or wary. In instances where I was suspicious, I used my Status camera. Ideally I would’ve screened everyone on the street, but to do so would be to lose track of my surroundings. And, as Agath had said, an ambush was possible. That would’ve been my plan had I been in the assassin’s shoes.

We jogged through block after block, and the trail led on until we were practically at the center of Scathta. Turning a corner, a walled compound came into view. It was very much like Ithia’s fortress except shrunk down to lodge size. The Soldier’s Lodge, to be more specific. I recognized the tower emblazoned above the main gate. Around me, my bodyguards stiffened when they realized the assassin's trail headed toward it.

There!

A lone warrior walked through the gate at a brisk walk. There was a crossbow on his back, and while he appeared to be an ordinary man with business to accomplish, his spirit was uneasy. Though he never turned around to look, his attention lingered behind him. Click.

Miklatsei the Reliable (Human)

Talents: Steady, Well Trained, Defender

Agath’s voice was grave when she said, “Mikal, he was once Otwei’s brother.”

“I need to get closer to be sure, but he’s probably the assassin.” I thought quickly, discarding plans as soon as they came to mind until I finally decided that the simplest solution was best. “Call him over. You said he wanted to meet me, right?”

Grasset immediately objected, but our quick-thinking Agath overruled him. “I see, yes,” she muttered, and then bellowed toward the gate, “Hail there, Mikal.”

The soldier startled, then continued walking as if his name hadn’t just been called.

“Mikal. Mikal!” Agath yelled. “There is a surprise for you.”

Others turned to look. To our benefit, the Soldier’s Lodge was every bit as busy as the Hunter’s. One helpful fellow came up to Miklatsei and pointed him our way. Reluctantly, he let himself be turned around. Spirit unhappy, he put a smile on his face to greet Agath.

A hard grin on her face, she took the lead in approaching him. “What a lucky day for you. Here is the client you wanted to meet.”

Miklatsei was wiry like his sister—thin as a whip and just as tough. I was still wide open to the land, and I saw a tenaciousness in his body. Something that spoke of endless training and survival. Physically, he looked a lot like Otwei, but his eyes were more serious.

He clapped twice. “They told me you were young, but it’s different meeting you for myself. I am Miklatsei, who was once a younger brother to Otwei. My soldier sister Agath kindly shared the story of the kalihchi bear’s hunt.”

You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but anger smoldered in his spirit. How fitting, I had my own lump of anger burning.

“Otwei’s death was a great loss for the lodge,” I said. “She was unique among hunters. You must’ve loved her very much to pursue her memory.”

Briefly, Miklatsei’s eyes flashed, but then he chuckled. “You mistake me. Otwei left the family when I was young. My asking after her was just curiosity—a wondering at what happened to the girl who had been mistaken for a soldier.”

“She never mentioned you,” I remarked.

His spirit shook as if he’d been stabbed. Softly, he said, “I see. It was… probably for the best.” Then, he shook his head to clear it. He licked his lips—they were dry, I noted, and chapped. “Perhaps... perhaps we can meet later tonight. There is a place I know. The food is good, and I’ve heard you like delicious things. It will be my treat. In exchange, you will share what you saw of Otwei’s last days with me.” Miklatsei eyed the trio around me. “Your bodyguards are also welcome, of course.”

“Which place?” Agath asked.

“The Court of Earth and Blood,” Miklatsei said. “At dusk. The games will be over by then, but there will be food and drink well into the night.”

Agath sensed the question before I could ask it, and said, “The game is called latchtei, played with a leather ball.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I replied.

“Latchtei is a soldier’s game, and the Court of Earth and Blood is a soldier’s place,” Agath explained. “An out-of-the-way one—most would not find it without a guide or already knowing the way.”

Miklatsei clapped my shoulder. “We will meet beforehand and walk there together. Here at the lodge. At dusk.”

“It will be full dark by the time we arrive at the court,” Agath said.

Miklatsei laughed. “Your diligence is admirable, but with so many bodyguards with him, this Eight will have nothing to worry about.”

Said bodyguards started arguing the moment we were far enough away not to be overheard. Grasset thought I should avoid the obvious trap, while Agath and Moon wanted to press ahead—to draw Miklatsei out and deal with him permanently.

I, on the other hand, had a lot to think about. First and foremost was the notion that the assassination attempts had been personal; it wasn’t the healers at all, and that required a shift in thinking which left me feeling wobbly. Their lodge’s antagonism had been a pillar holding up my understanding of Albei, and it was suddenly gone. Not completely—they were still a source of trouble for me and my lodge—but they weren’t trying to kill me.

Why had Miklatsei called for them after shooting me in the heart? Had he just been stirring up trouble between the hunters and the healers? Or had it been two separate assassins with two different motives? What were the odds of that?

Both attempts had used crossbows. One was poisoned, and the other had caught fire.

“Do soldiers carry cleansing fire with them?” I asked. “What about poison?”

Moon listened to the ongoing argument, but took a moment to sign, “Yes to both.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Miklatsei’s team is frequently away from the city on short escort jobs, so him carrying cleansing fire is appropriate. As for poison, it is a weapon like any other in a soldier’s arsenal. All it requires is access.”

I thanked Moon, and decided it was likely Miklatsei who was responsible for both assassination attempts, since he had both motive and means. I’d hold onto the possibility they were unrelated, but those odds were smaller.

“Do you think his team is also involved?” I asked.

My question stopped the argument happening above me.

“I don’t believe so,” Agath said. “The people working with Mikal are—how to say it—they are very business-like. They do not do anything without money, and to go against another lodge would require a lot of taak.”

Moon added, “Mikal is proud but not rich.”

Grasset said, “Mikal might convince his team if it was a family matter...”

“But Otwei wasn’t family,” Agath said.

I rubbed at the spot on my chest where I’d been shot. “I don’t see him taking us all on in a direct confrontation, which means he’s probably going to use poison. We know he’s capable of it.”

The soldiers nodded thoughtfully.

“We should involve Mulallamu and the rest of your team,” Moon signed.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “It’ll be overkill, but she’ll be angry if we do this without her.”

Agath led us to a large, covered communal eating area with a view of the Soldier Lodge’s main gate. The seats were crowded with people of various professions enjoying the wares of the food vendors stationed around it, so we were able to mix right in.

Grasset checked the lodge, but Mumu hadn’t shown up yet. I figured she must’ve run into red tape at the city head’s offices.

I was still full from the meal at Uncle Kila’s residence, but the smells from the stalls enticed me to walk around and check them out. There were grilled pork skewers lightly flaked with salt; tamales stuffed with chicken and peppers; vegetable casseroles of squash, beans, and potatoes; and steamed fish with herbs. They all looked delicious.

It was a good place for people-watching too, and I appreciated the breather. It’d been an intense day already, the ramifications of which caused my thoughts to fly in a thousand directions; my head felt like a pinball machine full of bonus balls in play.

It wasn’t just the revelation about the assassination attempts either. I was blown away by the fact that Silasenei worked for Ithia in a role that resembled some kind of spymaster. And Iseld was one of her contacts. The three of them—along with presumably others—worked to limit the influence of the Paramount Empire of Conjuncted Maltra.

The name was a mouthful, even in Diaksh, but it represented an amalgamation of cities bound together to form a larger empire. Inleio had talked about them briefly as part of our geography lessons, but I hadn’t paid too much attention at the time. Ganas Hakei and Sugrusu Hakei were much closer, and the two coastal cities were part of our own Three-City Alliance.

The difference was that ours was a loose partnership. Ganas’s, Sugrusu’s, and Albei’s governance were all independent of each other. Maltra’s was not; it’d been ruled dynastically for centuries.

I knew two other facts: Their capital was located on a massive lake, and the empire's border was approximately three hundred miles west-south-west from Albei. Oh, there was a new, third fact after today: they apparently had designs on the Three-City Alliance.

All of which was way, way above my paygrade. But at least it helped explain why Ithia, Silasenei, and maybe even Aslishtei did what they did. Not that it made my life any easier, or the lives of Voorhei’s hunters.

After an hour of waiting and small talk, I finally spotted Mumu and Haol approaching the lodge. Haol caught sight of me, and the two hunters angled toward our table. The bodyguards shifted to make room for them.

There was a buoyancy to Mumu’s spirit that I hadn’t seen since before Inleio’s murder, and Haol had a smug look on his face.

“Things went well?” I asked.

Mumu nodded, her own smile slipping out. “The city head’s office was troublesome, but they eventually abided by the law. We have our permission to proceed. Also, just as importantly, the chance to win Ikfael’s Boon captivated the members of our lodge. Many were interested in fighting. You remember Kuros the Spear? He’d just come back from a job, but that didn’t stop him from asking question after question. Our Haol wanted to snub him for his altercation with Susu, but we stuck to the plan—participation would be open to all people of good standing.”

It was good to see life in Mumu’s eyes again; they shone brightly as she continued, “Neither Silasenei nor any of Albei’s hunters were troubled by the entry fee. It seems that five eltaak is nothing much to these people. We should be able to raise at least an eistaak just from the Hunter and Soldier Lodges here, assuming the soldiers respond as enthusiastically. Add in the various city families, and we might make an additional eistaak. It’s a fortune, Little Pot. A fortune!”

Haol chimed in, saying, “We’ll only need to carry the debt for three or four years, and then we’ll be free.”

Mumu nodded along. “Right, right. Tell us, Little Pot: how did the meeting with Kila go?”

“It went well, and when I left him, he said he was going to take our offer to his family’s heads, but... ah... I ran into Sheedi at the pyramid. I need to catch you up on some developments.”

I glanced at Agath, and she took the hint, gesturing to the other bodyguards. They moved away from the table and took up positions at a distance. Then, I got up to scoot between Mumu and Haol, keeping my hands under the table. The rest of the conversation took place using Signed Diaksh, hidden from view; I reported on Sheedi’s meeting with Iseld, as well as Iseld’s meeting with Silasenei.

Mumu’s and Haol’s joy at hearing about the world speaker’s willingness to back our loan request was wiped away at the news of the grandmaster working directly for the land knight. The spirits of both hunters buzzed with activity, yet none of it showed on their faces. All I saw there was sober thought.

Then, I told them about the second assassination attempt, and they frowned as severely as I’d ever seen them, especially when I got to the part about Miklatsei. My teammates exchanged looks, then Mumu nodded to Haol, telling him to speak.

He said, “In the time since we last saw Kuros, he has replaced his bow with a crossbow. I noticed it with his pack while he questioned me about the tournament. At the time, I thought it a shame that any hunter would give up the bow, but now I wonder.”

“Because of the altercation with Susu, I looked into his dealings,” Mumu said. “He and Banan have been hiring themselves to soldiers in need of scouts, and it’s likely they have a connection to Miklatsei—maybe a strong one.”

“The first time someone tried to kill me,” I said, “I could’ve sworn the assassin was Camouflaged. It’s why I mistook them for a ghost at the time, but it doesn’t look like Miklatsei knows the spell. I just assumed I was wrong about it, but from what I’m hearing from you now, you think Kuros is involved.”

“Kuros knows you have Healing Water,” Mumu said, “and the poison on the bolt that struck you resisted healing.”

“Otwei was famous for her poisons,” Haol said. “She would surely have given her teammates some to use. Or told them where to get more.”

“My only question is why?” Mumu said. “Little Pot, have you done anything to offend either Miklatsei or Kuros?”

“The only thing I can think of,” I said, biting my lip, “is that they blame me for Otwei’s death. The kalihchi bear targeted the two of us because he was attracted to Yuki’s scent.”

“I remember,” Haol said. “The hunters joked afterward that the two of you looked the most tender for eating.”

I scoffed at the idea. “Otwei wasn’t tender at all, neither in body, nor spirit.”

Mumu nodded. “That she wasn’t, and her teammates knew it.”

A hypothesis began to form, and the more I poked and prodded the more reasonable it sounded. “So, remember how I mentioned that Otwei had a talent for decoys? That I suspected her and her team of using that talent against us?”

Both hunters’ eyes widened as they caught on. Mumu was a touch faster, and said, “You think that they think we arranged for Otwei’s death as revenge for what she’d done.”

“Kuros and Banan know it’s possible to lure creatures. The jump for them to assume we could do the same is an easy one. In their minds, I was the agent of our revenge, and made a mistake by getting the bait on me too.” I shrugged. “At this point, it’s just a theory, but it lines up with what we know about the people and the crime.”

“Gods damn them,” Haol said aloud.

I put a hand on his arm and felt it tighten as he clenched his fists. His lips were white from being pressed so tight, and, if anything, Mumu was even scarier in that moment. There was hardly any tension in her; instead, the ferocity was in her eyes. They said that people were going to die tonight.

“They are not of our Voorhei’s lodge,” she said, her voice grim. “They will never agree to sit for truth-telling tea.”

“And I’d rather not bring this to the land soldiers, since there’s too much that’s related to Yuki. I don’t want to risk anything that might reveal them.”

“Yuki could—” Haol began.

But I shook my head. “Both Kuros and Banan are dawn. They’re impenetrable unless severely injured and their qi compromised. Miklatsei is feasible, which would mean tracking down where he lives, getting Yuki inside, and waiting for him to fall asleep. It’s just a night’s work, but—”

“—we already have a different opportunity,” Mumu said. “To counter-ambush.”

I took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I thought Miklatsei would try to poison me during dinner or something like that, but now I’m not sure. If Kuros and Banan are indeed his accomplices, then it makes more sense for one or both of them shoot at me from hiding. It won’t matter how many bodyguards I have, if they have line of sight and can run away in Camouflage. The strategy almost succeeded once.”

“So you think it’s both Kuros and Banan working with Miklatsei?” Haol asked.

I shrugged. At this point, the evidence pointed to Kuros and Miklatsei alone, but it was reasonable to assume Banan’s involvement.

“We should plan for it, just in case,” I said. “What I don’t understand is why Kuros called for the healers? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

The hunters agreed and shook their heads at the inconceivable behavior. I got that Kuros didn’t think they’d be able to save me, but why stir up trouble between the lodges? It was spiteful and petty, and... well, maybe that was all it was. We’d likely never know.

Mumu called the bodyguards back over, so I reached out to Yuki to catch them up on what was happening. They were at a delicate point in refining Tegen’s qi, but vowed to find a way to be available later. Their own anger at the attempts on my life demanded it.

The sun was about another hour from dusk, so we had some time to plan how we’d handle Miklatsei, Kuros, and Banan.

35

Third Time’s the Charm?

The Court of Earth and Blood was located under the wall, just south of the boundary between Scathta and the Butchery. According to Agath, the buildings in the area “clung to each other like angry, grappling merchants.”

“It’s a forest made of thorns,” Moon added. “The residents are difficult to deal with.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “The land soldiers don’t like to go there.”

Agath shook her head. “The rough ones love it. There’s always someone to beat up.”

“Charming,” I said. “Does this neighborhood have a name?”

“The Brambles,” Moon signed.

“Since Moon and I know the way, Mikal—” Agath paused. “No, he’s no longer my soldier brother; I won’t call him by his nickname. Miklatsei won’t be obvious about leading us into danger. He’ll follow the main road until the Brambles’s entrance. After that...”

Agath conferred with the other bodyguards about what they recalled of the neighborhood’s layout. They’d all been to the Court of Earth and Blood before, but it quickly became clear that while Grasset was competent, Agath and Moon had a much more robust understanding of guarding against ambushes.

That surprised me, since it was a skillset a merchant family would prioritize in their hiring. Yet, I could also see how the labor market for competent guards would be tight. Grasset might be the best that Kila could afford to permanently employ. No wonder he’d gone to the Soldier’s Lodge for temporary additional help.

And I was glad he did, because in less than fifteen minutes Agath and Moon identified three locations within the Brambles that would be particularly good to ambush someone on the way to the Court of Earth and Blood. These spots took into account sight lines, the number of people who typically crowded the area, and easy access to escape routes.

The first location had actually been the site of an assassination last year. We didn’t have time for the full story, though, so I decided to get it out of them later. The second and third spots were more out of the way, but there were shops near them that Miklatsei could reasonably request to stop at before heading to the court.

“We should assume that they’ll prepare for your Air Shield now that they know you have the spell,” Moon remarked.

“If I were in their place,” Haol said, “I’d arrange to shoot from multiple vantages to bypass it.”

“At most, Kuros will only have Banan with him,” Mumu said.

Haol nodded. “Then two attacks from opposite directions, either from the sides, or the front and back.”

“In that case,” Agath said, thinking, “it’ll be either the first or third locations.”

Moon drew on the table. There was no medium—it was just his finger—but it helped the other hunters and myself visualize the layout of the Brambles.

Agath narrated for us. “This is the street where he’ll likely turn toward the court. It will be another ten or eleven saqilm, and then there will be alleys to the sides and tall buildings, each with protected ledges.”

A saqilm was a just shy of three yards, so that was about ninety feet. “But why the ledges?” I asked.

“You have not been to Albei before, so you wouldn’t know that all the roofs have gardens.” Agath gestured, her hand encompassing the city around us. “People grow food, but also spend time in them. The extra space is welcome, especially to those living in cramped homes. Albei is not like your Voorhei with every family owning a longhouse and every longhouse having its own garden plot. If Kuros and Banan want elevation, they will have to hunt for it.”

She continued: “As for why ledges were built onto those two buildings, the answer is that these neighbors hate each other. They use the ledges to stand outside and yell at each other across the street. To throw things—”

“—bones, nightsoil, and even wooden darts,” Moon added. “People go to watch them before and after the matches at the court.”

“That’s true,” Agath said. “If the families are fighting, the ledges won’t be available to Kuros and Banan, and the street will be a crowd. Very crowded.”

Mumu repeated Moon’s drawing with her own finger. “Eight, if that’s the case, you’ll need to prepare in case Miklatsei tries to stab you with a knife, using the crowd to hide his actions.”

“Right, I’ll be careful.”

“The third location,” Agath said, “is down a side street another fifteen saqilm toward the court. It bends in a half circle to rejoin the main street. In between where it curves, there are locations on the roof tops where two assassins can position themselves.”

“There aren’t any gardens?” I asked.

Agath nodded, clearly approving of the question. “There are five buildings clustered together, each with a large bell on top. No one knows why—none of the families will say, not even when drunk—but the rooftops are otherwise empty, and the families only go up to them on special occasions.”

“That’s… weird,” I commented.

“Very,” Moon signed, his hands chopping to emphasize the word. “Their neighbors charge half a taak to anyone wanting to watch. All the bell people do, though, is stand in a circle for a short time, clap their hands like they’re visiting a guest, and then go back downstairs. I don’t understand—”

“More importantly,” Agath interrupted, “in addition to the elevation provided by the empty rooftops, there are thoroughfares on the other sides of the buildings. To escape pursuit, all the assassins would have to do is to drop down and mix with the crowds there.”

“If I’m hearing you right,” I said. “These two locations are our best, educated guesses for where Kuros and Banan will set up. There’s nothing stopping them, though, from finding another pair of rooftops, if those happen to be empty of residents.”

“There will always be uncertainty in every plan,” Moon signed. “We don’t know Miklatsei well—he could have special knowledge of the Brambles, secret family techniques, or simply be stupid, which is its own kind of unpredictability. All we can do is prepare using what we know and adapt to the unexpected.”

“That's what we do in our lodge too,” Mumu said. “Truly, hunters and soldiers are cousins on the Path to Perfection.”

As Haol began to draw Moon’s map for himself, he asked, “Do we go ahead to set up our own ambush, or do we escort Eight as hidden outriders?”

Mumu considered the question for a moment. “I’ve not been to the Brambles, but from its description, I envision a place where a skilled hunter can find countless opportunities within its hidden nooks and corners. Banan and Kuros’s fighting skills are excellent, but their hunt craft is average at best. They’re used to relying on others.” Mumu looked at Haol, and then me. “My sense is that these fools have not changed since the hunt for the King of the Forest. They’ve stood in place while others passed them by. In their hearts, they have replaced Otwei with Miklatsei, and will trust in his knowledge. If he points to one of these locations, they will do as he says.”

“So we’ll go on ahead,” Haol said, his eyes narrowed in anticipation.

“We will,” Mumu said, just as intent.

“And how will we deal with you two becoming mankillers?” I asked, remembering the grilling I’d gotten upon entering the city.

I’d been the one to land the killing blow on Borba, so the magic at the city gate should still let the others through without problems. That’d change, however, once Kuros and Banan were killed.

“We let them draw their bows first,” Mumu said, “so that it’s obvious what they intend. That way we can speak truthfully when Honored Aslishtei asks.”

“So there’s no way to avoid being marked as a mankiller.”

Mumu nodded, and Haol along with her, both accepting the burden it implied.

Agath frowned. “Can you interrupt the assassins before they shoot?”

“Probably, but you needn’t worry.” Mumu let a smile slip out. “Our Eight can cast two Air Shield spells simultaneously.”

The bodyguards turned to consider me. “It’s true,” I said. With Yuki and me working together, I could cast any two mana spells concurrently. “If they have an additional archer, though...”

Moon gave the table a tap and signed, “We will protect you.”

Agath nodded, as did the other bodyguards.

“We trust our Eight to you,” Mumu told them, looking each in the eyes. “Let none of us fail him.”

Agath patted me on the head. “Our shields are yours. Have no doubt.”

With nothing left to add, Mumu gestured for Haol to follow. “Then, we’ll run ahead. Good hunting to you all. And Eight…”

“Yes?”

“Mind your elders and don’t run off on your own,” she said. “Once was enough, understand? We’ll not have a repeat of the kalihchi bear hunt.”

“Yes, lodge master. I hear you.”

The buildings in the Brambles were built from either brick or wood. The streets were also narrower than in the rest of the city, and the buildings leaned out over them so that it felt like walking through a ravine or even a tunnel in places. Laundry hung on lines strung between windows, and there was almost always someone yelling, whether it was the hawkers on the street or the families within their residences.

The air smelled of mildew, unwashed bodies, and chili peppers, although all three were occasionally overpowered by the scent of piss. The place stank of life, and clearly not the rich kind.

Even after dark, the air chilly from a cold autumn evening, the streets were lively with people. No candle stones here, though. The only light was either from the lanterns carried by the hawkers, or from the windows of the nearby houses.

The ghosts were many, and they varied in age. One looked as fresh as this morning—an old man sitting forlornly at the front door of a house. Others appeared tattered with age, and not all of them were human. Beasts walked among them too.

As I’d come to expect elsewhere, my collection of bodyguards drew looks, and there were some that were distinctly predatory, a quiet measuring of wealth and strength. Agath and the rest stared right back. Once, I caught Moon grinning, and the young man who’d earned his attention slunk away.

I was glad; the fellow’s gaze had felt like a knife against my neck. I was wide open to the land, breathing it in and out and letting it move through me as I searched for Kuros and Banan. All the while, I kept careful watch of Miklatsei beside me.

We’d met up with the mercenary about a half hour after dusk—he was the late one—and the man had felt compelled to play tour guide in apology. It’d taken forever to even get to the Brambles, and the delays were an obvious signal that he was buying time for his accomplices. I let his bright, cheery words wash over me like everything else.

Yuki’s thoughts hovered next to mine, although neither of us said anything. Words weren’t needed. They were ready to cast an Iron Heart spell for me, and had been ever since we’d joined Miklatsei.

Ahead, torches lit the street, and the crowd thickened. Eyes were turned upward, and we heard the angry screams of people yelling at each other. We’d reached the first location—the place where two families feuded.

The families stood on their ledges, and to my spirit eyes, the air above the street warped with the vitriol spewed between them. Ugly-twisted-corrosive, it was the stuff curses were made of, and I had to pull my attention away for fear of getting it on me.

My pace stuttered, and Miklatsei slowed alongside. His own bit of ugliness came to the surface, and I saw him glancing between the crowd and me. His face smiled, though, while he happily told me of the amusement to be found watching the Albei equivalent of the Hatfields and McCoys in action.

I didn’t see the allure myself, especially once the weapons came out. Both families used wooden darts, and the crowd roared every time one was thrown. Some people played a game of standing directly between the buildings, trying to dodge any darts that fell short or were deflected.

My bodyguards readied themselves, and I brought the Air Shield rune to mind. Yuki cast Collaut’s Hide for me, which Miklatsei noticed since the spell visibly toughened my skin.

“Be easy, young Eight,” he said. “This fight has nothing to do with us. We’ll walk right through, although there’s a soaper down a side street farther on who I’d like to visit.”

This guy, if he really wanted me to relax, he’d take his hand off the hilt of his knife. But I just nodded to him, and made my way through the crowd. Twice, Miklatsei tensed as if wanting to take action, but I kept bodies between us—using both my bodyguards and simple bystanders. No darts fell either, at least not while I was passing under the feud.

On the other side, Miklatsei’s spirit sank as if he’d missed an opportunity. He quickly picked himself up, however, and led the way, with none of the fluctuations in his emotions showing on his face. He’d remained bright throughout.

The side street he’d mentioned was about another forty yards onward, opening to the left with the statues of two mountain lions on each side of the entrance. They were about five feet tall each and looked to be made of mahogany. They must’ve been magnificent too, in the days when they were new and well cared for. Now, the statues were covered with countless symbols and names carved into the wood.

The street curved as I’d been told it would, bending to the right, and my pace slowed as I took it all in—the cold, dead air; the fading noise of the main street behind us; the sharpening of Miklatsei’s spirit in anticipation.

“We’re almost at the soaper’s shop,” he said. “Just a little farther.”

I walked in the dark, passing through puddles of light, until the vague outlines of giant bells on the rooftops came into view. A head poked up to peek at the street, and I felt the edge of danger’s knife draw against my chest. A thrill arose from within me, answering the challenge.

“The shop’s at the curve,” Miklatsei said, licking his lips. “You can wait outside; I’ll be quick.”

I nodded, then gestured for Grasset to follow him. When Miklatsei protested that the help wasn’t necessary, I said, “There’s nothing wrong with having good people to watch your back, especially in a place like the Brambles.”

Which was entirely true, except that Grasset would be watching mine, thank you very much.

Once again, I would be playing the bait for my fellow hunters, so I walked into the middle of the street, watching and waiting for the second head to pop up. The first was:

Kuros the Spear (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Swift, Runner, Enduring, Spearman

The faint sound of small claws on stone sounded from above—it could’ve been a rat or something like it, but almost immediately the other assassin appeared in response:

Banan of Albei (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Natural Woodsman, Knack for Leadership, Professional, Face

As they both stood up—a crossbow on one side and a bow on the other, each lifting into shooting position—I took a breath and cast my Air Shield. Yuki matched my timing and cast theirs along with me. The combined mana blew through me to coalesce into two swirling masses of thick wind.

Up above, from both sides of the street, I sensed the telltale signs of qi gathered into Spiral Pierce—a pair of them. Then the spells cut out, the half-formed qi dissipating. To my right, there was a long sigh, as if air was being let out of bag. To the left, there was a thump, and the sound of wood against wood. A beat later, the clacking picked up speed as the combatants both cast Dog’s Agility spells.

My own Dog’s Agility was only a half second behind, and I took off for the building. Yuki cast Bear’s strength to power my leap onto the wall, and I muscled my way up; it was only three stories, and there were lots of handholds. I’d be on the roof in moments.

Behind me, Agath cursed. Below me, I heard her and Moon barge into the building to demand to be let upstairs. By the time they got through the door, I slithered over the low wall surrounding the roof and paused a precious breath to pull my knives and take in my surroundings.

Mumu thrust her spear high, the point rotating and sinking midway as the feint revealed the true attack. Kuros backed away, his own spear sliding across Mumu’s to block. Then, he bound her haft with his, trying to wind in past her guard. She kicked, and he had to let go or risk her breaking his knee.

Instantly, I was up and circling to get behind him.

Kuros switched stances to one that let him deal with multiple opponents. None of us said anything. There was nothing to say.

From his spirit, I sensed both disappointment and annoyance at my arrival. Disappointment, because he hadn’t been able to get his shot off. Annoyance, because he’d wanted to duel Mumu. I was a pest spoiling his opportunity.

He knew it was too dangerous for him with me present. Mumu was good enough that he’d need his full attention on her, and any distraction I posed could be fatal. So, he backed away, circling around the giant bell, and headed toward the far side of the rooftop. If he dropped over the edge, he’d be able to run for it. He had confidence in his running.

For a moment, for half a thought, I wondered at his sanity. He'd wanted to fight Mumu after a failed assassination attempt, and then he thought we’d just let him get away?

I blasted him with a full-power Spark, and the roof lit up with a coruscating line of skyfire. I kept the spell going, and poured the electricity into him until his body shook. Surprise!

Mumu gathered her strength and cast Spiral Pierce. She waited for me to let the blinding light of my Spark diminish, and then her spear took Kuros in the throat, penetrating clear through. She followed up with a sweep of the haft to maximize the damage.

Kuros’s body dropped, and in the last remaining flashes of Spark on my hands, I saw that he’d been wearing a mask that covered his entire face. That explained why he thought he could get away; he didn’t think we’d be able to recognize him, which… wasn’t very smart, really. From his fighting style we’d know he was a hunter. And that plan would only work if both he and Banan got away.

Did they really think that poorly of our skills?

From across the street, Haol signaled an all clear, and a moment later Agath and Moon rushed onto the roof, followed by the building’s residents complaining about the intrusion. Agath read the scene and gestured for Moon to spread out to make sure there weren’t any more assassins.

While they did that, Mumu knelt by the body to remove the mask. “It’s Kuros, as we’d guessed.”

His head was nearly separated from his body, and I heard startled gasps from the building’s residents. There was a Strong-Willed matriarch at the head of the family, who ushered the others downstairs but stayed behind to keep an eye on us. Also, she told us in no uncertain terms that the land soldiers would be called. There’d be no hiding the body, and definitely not under the rooftop’s bell. Once was apparently enough. Which really, really begged asking for the story, but it wasn’t the time nor the place.

Kuros’s ghost lingered, confused about how he’d come to be dead. That he’d lost was inconceivable to him, so I took advantage of his daze to push him out of this world and into the next one. He didn’t even try to resist until the end, but by then it was too late. I looked across the street but didn’t see Banan’s ghost. Apparently, he hadn’t needed any help moving on.

Mumu came to check on me. She’d never killed a human being before, so I closed the distance to give her a hug. That surprised her, but then she pulled me in tighter.

I hugged her just as hard. “Thank you for helping to protect me. You are my lodge master, my friend, and my sister.”

“What are you saying, my Eight? Of course I would protect you, no matter who it is that wishes to harm you. And besides,” she said, scowling, “these people betrayed their lodge. They deserved to die.”

I nodded, feeling the smooth buckskin against my cheek. “I hate to say it… but it does get easier.”

“To kill people?”

I nodded again, and I felt her take a deep breath and sigh.

“We do what we have to,” she said.

“Miklatsei next?”

“Him, we leave to the land soldiers. Since he was with us, he’ll be questioned. And if not—”

“—then we’ll handle him for them.”

“Now and always,” Mumu said, whispering the words to herself, “we do what we must.”

36

Another Cell, a Different Interrogation

The cell smelled like old cheese—stronger toward the back, where a handful of slots had been carved into the wall for ventilation. Without my armor or jacket, it was cold, but the bed to one side had a fur on top. The hay in the bed was relatively fresh, as was the water in the large pot in the corner. A length of twine connected the pot’s lip to a mug hanging from it.

I was in remarkably better shape than the last time I’d found myself imprisoned. There’d been a preliminary interrogation by the land soldiers who’d arrived on the scene, but no magic smoke or spells yet. I was on my own, though, separated from both my team and my bodyguards. We’d been split up almost as soon as the land soldiers had arrived.

Talking to them had been a blur, my attention stuck on making sure Miklatsei was brought in along with the rest of us. Grasset, good man that he was, had stood at the entrance to the soaper’s shop to make sure the would-be assassin couldn’t get out to help his accomplices. It also meant that Miklatsei had been trapped until he could be handed over to the land soldiers. Apparently there’d been a scuffle, but Grasset had been able to delay him until the fighting was over.

At the moment all I could do was wait, so I covered my shoulders with the fur and measured the distance between the cell walls, which was ten steps. Then, I sat on the bed to kick my feet. Trying to sleep was useless—every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kuros’s head nearly coming loose from his body.

I’d made a quick breakfast for Ikfael earlier that morning, so she was all right for the day, but my stomach sank thinking about my teammates in trouble. I also worried about the tournament, and if our plans would be impeded by the night’s events.

Yuki wasn’t even around to chat with, since they’d gone back to Tegen. I’d call them as soon as anything truth-related happened, but until then, I felt the intensity of their focus through our connection. Tegen was close to finalizing the refinement of the qi in his belly dantian—that was where the two of them had started. It’d been a while since my own qi’s refinement, and Yuki had had lots of time to study, think, and experiment to find the best way to replicate the process.

Anyway, I was in the basement of a combination administrative station and barrack used by the land soldiers, so I occasionally heard boots walking past. As far as I knew, I was the only one from my team here. The land soldiers had taken the others in different directions.

There wasn’t any other entertainment to pass the time with, so I eventually sat with my back to the door to listen to the people going past. At one point, I heard someone drunk singing an absolutely filthy song, and another time it was two people arguing about an unfair split of their spoils.

A woman’s voice cut through their argument. “Draw that knife and I’ll gut you myself.”

The door thumped as if someone had been thrown against it, and the voices on the other side went quiet. I listened, but all I heard afterward was a faint whimpering. Then came the sound of steps fading away.

The station was located near the city wall, north of the Brambles in the Butchery, so I wondered if it was a couple of hunters who’d brought their game to Albei to be processed.

I continued to sit by the door in case there was more to hear, but it was just boots going this way and that until, after about another hour, I heard a whole collection of them stop just on the other side. I quickly stood.

The cell door clanked as the security bar outside was slid off. Then, a softer click came from the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a pair of land soldiers. A third stood farther back—she was bigger than the other two and carried my weapons and armor.

“Get dressed,” she said.

“I’m free to go?”

She looked at me like I was a fool. “We’re going for a walk.”

“Anywhere special?” I asked, letting the fur drop from my shoulders and getting my stuff. There were another two land soldiers in the corridor, making for a total of five. Wherever I was going, I’d apparently have a whole team with me.

“Just do as you’re told,” she said.

So, I checked the land soldiers out while gearing up, but they were nothing special, not even their leader:

Huspet the Breaker (Human)

Talents: Natural Grappler, Well Trained, Gets the Job Done

As we headed to the stairs leading up, I snuck a glance back and saw that there were no ghosts in the corridor or blood against the door—the anonymous prisoner hadn’t been gutted, so I breathed easier. Whoever he’d been, he didn’t mean anything to me, but if the land soldiers had stabbed him for noncompliance... well, my impression of Albei was already complicated. I preferred not to have it tank completely.

The station upstairs was quiet, with just a couple of lanterns burning to light the way. It was dark outside, and the city was asleep except for the few land soldiers still on duty. We passed empty office after empty office until we were through the lobby to outside.

The air was biting cold, and my breath frosted. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and asked, “Where are we going?”

Huspet responded, “You’re being questioned elsewhere. Don’t make any trouble for us, and we won’t trouble you in return. Got it?”

I signed the Diaksh equivalent of “okay” and waited; only a couple of minutes later, another land soldier arrived on the back of war dog. The dog was a beast—the tops of his shoulders well above my head—and he steamed like an old-fashioned locomotive.

Huspet surreptitiously signed a “sorry” to the rider, and the rider signed his own “okay, okay” back.

My clock said it was nearly eleven in the evening when we got underway. The dog’s harness was embedded with candle stones at the front and back, and two of the guards carried lanterns to help light the way. I, unsurprisingly, walked in the middle of them all.

We passed through the outer sections of the Butchery and crossed into the plaza. Shockingly, the market at the eastern end was still going. I saw people moving among the lights and heard music drifting through the otherwise-empty space.

The Hunter’s Lodge was mostly dim, with just the doorway lit and a single light on the rooftop. Idly, I wondered if Silasenei was up there and watching.

We kept going past the lodge, past the market, and into the Butchery’s business district. I wished I had my gloves with me; instead, I had to settle for pulling my sleeves down over my hands and folding my arms over my chest.

For another hour we walked, kept company only by the occasional soft whispers of the guards and the jingling of their armor and the dog’s harness. Eventually, I caught sight of our eventual destination: past Albei’s pyramid was Ithia’s fortress.

We went in through a postern door to the south of the main gate. A single land soldier stood outside, wrapped in a thick cloak. The area around him was lit by a lantern built into the wall just above the door.

Passing through, I confirmed that the stone was the same as in the city walls, but they were about three-quarters as thick, which was still damn impressive. Two more land soldiers stood guard inside, though the courtyard beyond them was otherwise clear. A lone light shone from what looked like a stable for war dogs, and the rest was moonlight and night shadows.

Huspet briefly huddled with the land soldiers on duty, and one of them left their post to lead us toward a massive castle in the style of a ziggurat. My first thought was that it looked like a wedding cake with how each layer was smaller than the one below it. The terraces weren’t decorative, though. They were lined with mounted ballistae, as well as fortified nests for land soldiers to fight from.

The entire courtyard was effectively one big kill zone, and from the number of wandering ghosts, it’d been used as one. Which was unsettling. The city didn’t lack for ghosts—every street I’d visited had a few—but I’d not seen the same density of them anywhere else. It was a reminder that power drew power.

During the Long Dark, the attacking beasts would do everything they could to reach the pyramid and fortress. The first held the city’s dasekua, as well as many powerful world speakers, while the second housed the land knight and her highest-leveled soldiers. Except the plaza surrounding the pyramid hadn’t been as crowded with ghosts as I’d expected, based on what I’d been told about how things worked during the Long Dark.

The reason why wasn’t obvious, either, and I had to give up on the question almost as soon as it popped into my head. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.

Huspet led us to a side door to the castle, where she clapped a pair of wooden blocks twice to announce us. Light spilled out as the door opened, and it took a moment to recognize a backlit Elinei, the land soldier who’d only a few days earlier been my informal tour guide.

I signed a quick, “Hello.”

But she responded with only a nod, her expression serious. She took the time to inspect us, going so far as to quiz my escorts, before she accepted charge of me and dismissed my escorts. I noted that her spirit seemed particularly tense—on edge in a way she hadn’t been before. Clearly, protecting the castle was seen as an especially important duty.

The air inside wasn’t much warmer, but I was grateful to be out of the wind. The interior was similar to Albei’s pyramid: The first room was a lobby with a depressed floor and a single corridor leading deeper in. Instead of doors to each side, though, there were slotted windows. I certainly didn’t have the leeway to go look, but I was sure they were meant to be murder holes. The entire corridor was lined with them.

I started to ask about the defenses, but—

“Quiet,” Elinei signed, and shut me up before I could get the question out.

She’d been friendly enough before, so the way she was treating me was a sign of the deep hot water Voorhei’s hunters were currently in. Looking at her, though, I didn’t think it was because of what had happened with Kuros or Banan. No, it was likely Ithia’s displeasure that was flowing down to the land soldiers below her. Either that, or Elinei had known the North Wind’s family. Maybe both.

She walked at a solid clip, leading me through a veritable maze of rooms and corridors. For a while it felt like we were climbing switchbacks, and one time I was sure we circled an entire floor before we were allowed to climb the next set of stairs.

Obviously, the layout was intentional, but I couldn’t believe there weren’t quicker ways to go from points A to B. It was impossible that the architects would so badly neglect the building’s staff—to make their lives that miserable. Surely, the route we were taking was for guests and strangers: people who weren’t allowed to know the real, secret ways of the fortress.

Perhaps it was yet another sign that Voorhei’s hunters weren’t to be trusted.

We arrived in front of a pair of double doors ten feet tall and joined at the top to form an arch. They were bronze and green with age—beautiful too, with the image of a fierce lizard’s head beaten into the surface.

The land soldiers standing guard shared the same tension as Elinei. They searched us both, but it clearly wasn’t for weapons. They let us keep all our gear.

Then, when they opened the doors, I saw what awaited us at the room’s far end, and I had to close my spirit eyes—to back off from that mysterious world—for fear of being overwhelmed.

It’d been months since the last time my spirit eyes disoriented me. With practice, I’d grown accustomed to the flow of extrasensory information, no longer needing Yuki’s help or the Dog’s Agility spell to make sense of it.

The room itself was interesting but nothing special: A pillared hall with a couple of doors visible near the far end. A large fireplace to the right warmed the room, and sconces at regular intervals lit it. Wooden panels lined the walls, each painted with both scenes from the local city and landscapes. The paintings were the most domestic art I’d seen in Albei to date. And they were the complete opposite to the throne Ithia the Land Knight sat on.

A massive skull and jaw, like that of shark, stood at the room’s far end. A cushioned bench had been laid across the bottom, providing a place for Knight Ithia to sit. The throne framed her, it highlighted her, and it added a real sense of threat to her demeanor. More than that, the throne had weight. Even with my spirit eyes closed, I could feel it thrumming against my lids.

There was so much a sense of presence, I tried using my Status camera.

Error

Not a valid talent vessel.

Then, I checked out:

Ithia the Land Knight (Human, Silvered)

Talents: A Warrior Born, Practiced Arms, Hardened Resolve, An Eye for People, Albei’s Protector

She looked about forty-five-years old, but her hair was silver and plaited in a soldier’s braid that circled around her neck. It was the middle of the night, yet Ithia still wore her armor and weapons. There was a side sword on her belt and a spear propped up against the throne.

She had an easy posture, leaning on her right elbow with her left foot up on the bench. More than anything, she seemed so powerful that nothing could threaten her.

Only Elinei and I entered the throne room, and as we came closer, I noticed a handful of small scars on Ithia’s face. Her eyes gazed right through me just like Silasenei’s had. There were no secrets in her presence. The closer I came, the stronger the effect too. It felt like I was being smothered with a heavy blanket.

At about twenty feet, Elinei stopped to bow. Then, when Ithia nodded, she turned to leave me behind to face the land knight alone. When the doors shut after her, it was just the two of us in the room.

I woke up out of the daze I’d found myself in, and bowed. Meanwhile, Ithia looked on impassively. Was I supposed to say something first? The protocol wasn’t clear.

I snuck peeks at the throne while I waited, and saw that the teeth were a mix of pointed and triangular, very much like a shark, but a section of the bottom row had been cut to make room for the bench. The intact ones, though, were at least two to three feet in length. Also, they didn’t come in multiple rows like a shark’s did—

A strand of Yuki’s attention filtered through my consciousness, briefly marveling at the sights around me. Then, they rushed back to Tegen. I felt the spillover as the hunter’s dantian broke through—

“You’re not awed at all, are you?” Ithia’s voice was gravelly, like she’d taken damage to her throat at some point in her life.

My attention snapped back to the land knight. “I am. The creature the skull is from must’ve been enormous. What was it?”

Ithia ignored my question, and asked one of her own in return: “What is it about this Voorhei that raises such fools?”

“But I don’t think we are,” I said, protesting. “Well, our Inleio made a foolish decision, but he wasn’t a fool—just... he did what he felt he had to do for the good of the village, you know?”

“And your Mulallamu follows in his steps, killing members of your own lodge.”

“Hey, hey, hey! That’s enough of that,” I said, getting heated. “That was self-defense, and we have the witnesses to prove it.”

“And what of Miklatsei’s claim that you murdered his once-sister, Otwei?”

“I did no such thing. She was a pest, sure, but that was the kalihchi bear’s doing. Yu—I—”

I blinked, then looked closely at Ithia, at her almost-lazy demeanor, and realized that I was being far more forthcoming than I’d planned. A quick, startled look at my Status revealed:

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Influenced (2)

I poked Yuki, and thought, I may need your help after all.

‘Can you hold on for a minute longer? Tegen’s belly dantian surprised us with a sudden spillover.’

Yes, okay, I can do that. I think.

My lips felt dry and chapped, my body worn. It’d been such a long day, and the pressure on my shoulders felt heavier and heavier. At the same time, my thoughts jittered from a sudden hit of adrenaline. I took a deep breath and cast Iron Heart.

I didn’t expect to be attacked or anything like that. It just felt good and grounding. In response, Ithia raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah, sorry, no offense. I just realized that I’m—that I’m not feeling very solid right now. There’ve been three separate attempts on my life since arriving in Albei. That’s unsettling, you know?”

“I do.” Ithia sat up with a sigh. She gestured for me to come closer, and when I did, she stopped me at about ten feet to look me over. “So small, and yet you are the source of so much trouble.”

“You’re talking about the Healer’s Lodge?”

“That, and the murder of the North Wind and his family.”

“How’s that on me?” I demanded.

“Our Voorhei was a peaceful place—mildly remarkable for the quality of its hunters and its waters—but all that changed during the summer. If not for you, would your Ghitha have sponsored the bear’s hunt? Would his and Borba’s secrets have been revealed?”

Shocked, I asked, “You know about Ghitha? About the murders of Grunthen and Bindeise?”

“Am I a fool?” she said, her voice turning angry. “Do you think I would not ask my people to investigate the North Wind’s murder—for all the reasons why it came to be and all the people responsible?”

“No, of course not. It’s just—you can’t blame me for all that. People have free will. Their choices are their choices. Borba killed Grunthen. That was him.”

“It was your Inleio who turned Borba into a mule. And your lodge that let him escape.”

As Ithia grew angrier, the pressure ratcheted up until I had to let go of Iron Heart to cast Bear’s Strength, else I would’ve fallen to my knees. And I wasn’t prepared to do that. Not in front of a bully, which was exactly what Ithia was being.

For a second, it looked like she enjoyed watching me struggle, and then she seemed to catch herself. She leaned back, and the pressure vanished completely. Suddenly, I could breathe again, and a glance at my phone showed that the Influenced condition was gone.

“That was… poorly done and unworthy of a warrior.” Ithia closed her eyes; her fists clenched. “Miklatsei has admitted all his crimes, as well as those of his accomplices. Kuros was the instigator—he was the one who shot at you first. He also attempted to stir up trouble between you and the Healer’s Lodge, his way of honoring the mischievous spirit of the hunter named Otwei. Later, Miklatsei and Banan readily joined him in the pursuit of their perceived justice. You are free of any guilt.”

The shift in tone shocked me. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I eventually asked, “So why was I brought here?”

She, in turn, surprised me again by asking, “Will you join my land soldiers?”

This whole scene was supposed to be a recruitment pitch? I was flabbergasted.

Then, out of the blue, I felt a soft chime reverberate from where Yuki lived inside me. ‘Tegen’s belly dantian is fully refined and stable. We’ve put in place the qi pumps and valves to hold it steady until we’re ready to tackle his heart dantian.’ They merged through me to gather stock of the situation we were in, then dropped back out to express their own disbelief at how poorly Ithia had handled us. ‘The answer’s no, right?’

“The answer's no,” I said aloud. “A lodge is like a second family, and the hunters are mine.”

"I understand. Then, this tournament of yours—”

“It’s Ikfael’s, the spirit of the land,” I clarified.

“Yet you represent and influence her.”

“Yes, to a degree, but she’s her own person too. All the spirits of the land also have free will.”

Ithia waved her hand in the sign for, “Yes, yes.” Then, said, “Her boon—the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge will receive it every other year, alternating with the world speakers.”

“That’s the proposal we’re considering,” I said, thinking that Silasenei must’ve already briefed her on the arrangement with Iseld.

“Change it to once every five years for both your lodge and the world speakers, and give the remaining three to my land soldiers.”

“And why should Ikfael do that?” I asked.

“She cares for Voorhei and its Hunter’s Lodge, yes?” When I nodded in reply, she continued, “Then, in exchange, I will commit two teams of land soldiers to the village’s defense at the Long Dark for as long as the agreement holds. I will also”—she gritted her teeth and struggled to say—“I will also ease your lodge’s punishment to five eistaak.”

Cutting the compensation owed by three eistaak was not insignificant. As for the teams of land soldiers, I wasn’t sure how much they’d cost to hire, but given the dangers of the Long Dark and the quality of Ithia’s people overall, I estimated that they’d likely be worth at least ten antaak per team.

So, her offer was probably worth around one hundred seventy antaak at the start, and twenty antaak per year after that. Which was quite low, given the boon’s value, and would continue to get lower over time as the initial payment was averaged out.

My thoughts must’ve leaked onto my face, because she clenched her fists, and said, “Four eistaak, but I cannot go lower. Compensation is owed, and we would be making a mockery of the North Wind and his family if I demand anything less.”

As I thought about the offer, I wondered at her actions—at how visible they were. It was impossible to see through Silasenei for example, and Ithia had been the same way at first… but there was something funny going on, I was sure of it.

Join with me, I thought to Yuki, and we merged. Together, we cast Dog’s Agility before opening our spirit eyes. The world around us distorted almost as if it was being sucked into the mouth of the giant skull. We held our ground, however, and peered directly at Ithia’s spirit.

She was a valiant silver, steadfast and transcendent. And yet, the smooth, armor-like exterior was fractured, and from within the cracks darkness gleamed, emanating a terrible anger. As Ithia struggled, the fractures closed, only to have her spirit rupture elsewhere.

On a hunch, we checked her talents again with our camera:

Ithia the Land Knight (Human, Silvered)

Talents: A Warrior Born, Practiced Arms, Hardened Resolve, An Eye for People, Albei’s Protector

Nascent: A Righteous Rage Suppressed

Previously, every talent that had referenced “Rage” in Ollie/Eight’s Status camera had also somehow connected to darklight in one way or another. And now, with Ithia’s nascent talent exposed, we understood that she was on the verge of turning dark. Suddenly her out-of-proportion reaction to the North Wind’s death was explained. The mystery of her strange behavior during our interrogation had been revealed.

How could she do this to herself? To engage in such reckless behavior?

As far as we knew, once a person turned dusk or dark, there was no going back. No matter how much silverlight they absorbed after that point, they’d forever be stuck. That was why people were so careful in regulating the proportions of silver and darklight they absorbed.

For Ithia to have come so close to dark, she must’ve been riding the very edge of what was safe. Except, the rest of her spirit looked solid, and this behavior was unlike everything we’d heard about Ithia prior.

None of what we saw made sense. And asking wouldn’t help—we’d only be endangering ourselves. Neither Ithia nor her people would want news of this getting out.

“Remember,” she said, “the stronger my land soldiers are, the stronger our defense of Albei and the nearby villages, Voorhei included.” She lifted her gaze from me to look out and through the walls to the wider world. “You are young, and while you may think you know the dangers this life offers, there are so many more than you can imagine—deadlier and uglier too.”

Ithia chuckled to herself, but the sound was bitter. “Our friends in Ganas and Sugrusu mock us for our backward ways, but I’ll tell you, young Eight: Our Albei is a blessed place. We bleed for it, we die for it, but nowhere else are we as free.”

“My teachers have said that Land Knight Ithia is fair, that she doesn’t steal what isn’t hers. Yet, you tried to take Voorhei’s hunters,” I told her.

“I did,” Ithia said, her face fracturing and then healing.

“The threats to Albei are that great?” we inquired.

“They are,” she said.

Nothing else, and certainly no apology. She had pride, then, this Ithia, and refused to bend. She offered to correct the lodge’s punishment to something fairer, but only if we agreed to the deal she’d offered.

So, she was a mix of good and bad, just like everyone else, and the thought made us smile.

“You’ve decided?” she asked, and there was still no pressure from her, nor any threats. She left us free to decide on our own.

We looked around the throne room and saw how plain it was. The wooden panels were beautifully made, as were the pillars, but there was no gold here or trophies or overt displays of wealth. Just power: in Ithia herself and her throne.

“You never shared what creature that is.”

“A kalesk,” Ithia said, tapping the nearest tooth. “They stray in many ways, and this was the biggest recorded in the city’s history. She attacked the walls fourteen years ago, waiting until the last day of the Long Dark when we were at our weakest.”

“How did you kill it?”

“It wasn’t me, but all of us that did it, including the North Wind and his family.” Ithia shook her head. “Every death diminishes us.”

“A truth.”

Ithia took a breath. A drop of her spirit floated clear of her body to revolve around us before remerging with her. “You are an unusual boy, aren’t you?”

“They call me the Little Pot of Questions.”

Ithia nodded, as if she’d known. “What’s needed now, though, is an answer.”

Three out of every five years was an overreach, but at the same time, we didn’t feel like we could snub the land knight. There were clearly extenuating circumstances in regards to her behavior, and if the tournament had her support, then there was nothing the Healer’s Lodge could do to stop it.

“I believe I can convince Ikfael to give you one out of every three years,” we offered.

“Not enough, our land soldiers—”

“Will be eligible to enter the tournament,” we said, interrupting her. “Your people have a chance of winning every year. Unless you don’t have confidence in them?”

“I will say no such thing.” Ithia narrowed her eyes at me. “And I suspect we both know that it takes more than confidence to win a battle.”

We shrugged, conceding the point, but didn’t say anything else. Our offer was as good as she was going to get. To do otherwise would hamstring the growth of Voorhei’s hunters.

So, we held our ground, and as the moment drew out into a tense silence and Ithia continued to consider us, we knew that giving in would be the wrong move.

Ithia eyed us, and drummed her fingers on her lap. “I’d forgotten how stubborn our villagers can be. Like donkeys. Like trees and rocks. Dense and unmoving.” She was clearly pissed, but the pressure from before didn’t return and the dark eruptions across her spirit now stayed under control.

No, Ithia wasn’t happy with us, but she also wouldn’t stoop to forcing us to give her a better deal. This—this was the land knight we’d heard so much about.

“You want nothing for yourself?” she asked.

“Only to see my family and friends thrive,” we said.

Ithia shook her head in disbelief. “Are you really a child?”

“I’ve been asked that before, and the answer is always the same.”

We went back and forth a few more times, but we held the line, and as the minutes dragged on, we became more and more relieved. Ithia was on board and was just fighting for more benefits. In principle, the deal was done. We only had to wait for her to realize that she wouldn’t get any more out of us.

Our lodge would still owe four eistaak, but that was manageable, especially with Iseld willing to back a loan from Kila’s family. Now, it was a matter of making sure the tournament was a success. If we did that, our lodge’s future would be assured.

37

The Midnight Munchies

The interrogation/negotiation finished at a little before one in the morning. Yuki left temporarily to check on Tegen, and Ithia called for me to be put up for the night within the fortress. I thought it might demonstrate a measure of trust, but the path Elinei took afterward was just circuitous as before.

After much meandering, we arrived at a richly appointed bedroom two levels below the throne room. The room itself wasn’t very big, but the rug was thick and decorated with a diamond pattern in reds and ochres surrounding a beautiful seven-point buck at the center. He was highlighted by what appeared to be a setting sun in the background.

There were paintings too, each one of a forest scene, and I recognized the trees and animals as belonging to the area around Albei. The air was a bit stuffy while also being damp and cold, but there was a glossy-furred blanket on the bed, so once Elinei bid me a good rest, I wasted no time in stripping down to get under it. Gods, but I’m tired.

Alas, sleep didn’t come nearly as quickly as I wished for it. There were too many thoughts swirling through my head, and once Yuki came back, they and I ended up catching up and talking through recent events.

I recognized it was weird—we could almost instantly know what the other knew by merging our consciousnesses, but that wasn’t the same as being able to bounce ideas off each other. The extra perspective inherent in coming at a topic from two directions was incredibly helpful, even though Yuki often depended on my experiences. Their knack for finding patterns, for noticing what I sometimes missed, and yes, even their hundreds of years of life before we’d ever met—they were things I valued. Plus, I just enjoyed their company, and I found I missed them after a day spent mostly apart.

Eventually, though, my exhaustion caught up to me, and my eyes grew heavy.

A force tugged me from my bed, and I had to scramble to keep from falling to the floor. At the same time, my hands reached for the knife I’d left strapped to my leg. Only, there was no knife, and I never hit the floor. I floated until I softly touched down.

Beside me stood the Deer God—imposing and indifferent as always, but for the first time ever, normal-sized. Although, he occupied the room as if he owned it, and maybe he did. I didn’t begin to understand how it worked on a spiritual level, but I saw that he’d pissed on the rug and marked the territory as belonging to him.

More importantly, a silver cord looped around one of his antler tines. One end connected to me and the other to my body, that was still asleep in the bed. When the Deer God turned to pass through the door, I was forced to follow along. The cord from my body extended as I moved farther away, then faded from sight. I focused my attention hard and saw it shimmer back into view, only for it to disappear again as soon as my attention lapsed.

The experience was fundamentally different from my previous spirit journey with Ikfael, and also from the times I’d dreamed my way into the spirit world. I felt more aware, and seemed closer to the physical world. Instead of there being a thin line separating the living and the spirit like I’d been taught, the border seemed wider, letting me be closer to one side versus the other.

My sense for Yuki was gone, and I felt strangely isolated—missing both the uekisheile and the overwhelming sensations from when I opened my spirit eyes to the land. The Deer God didn’t wait for me to explore, however. He pulled me along, retracing the steps I’d taken earlier so that we went back to the throne room. He only stopped when he faced the closed doors. The two guards stood to each side, neither of them noticing us.

The Deer God glanced at me, then nodded to the doors. In my gut, I felt a certain knowledge arise: There was something about the doors that kept him from going inside. So, I looked closer, bringing my full attention to bear, yet nothing seemed amiss to me. The doors appeared solid, and it was nice to have time to examine the artfully done embellishments, but there was no magic involved that I could see.

Annoyance. I definitely felt annoyance arising from my belly, and the Deer God nodded again. Briefly, I thought about rebelling, but mi abuela’s stories came to mind. Those stories were easier to remember in this state, the fog of time and memory lifting, and I recalled that the land gods didn’t always play nice. They often challenged their chosen in exchange for the protection and blessings they offered.

Had the Deer God protected me? Blessed me? My Status wasn’t available while spirit journeying, but I'd never seen anything like a blessing from him previously. I’d had good fortune since coming to this world—there’d been several helpful synchronicities—but I’d attribute those to Diriktot setting me up for success, dropping me off in a place and time that would suit me and my talents. And there were also the spirits of my family looking out for me too. I couldn’t forget them.

The Deer God though? I’d snubbed him as child, running away from his blessing, so maybe he was miffed about that, which was entirely possible according to mi abuela. I’d been afraid when courage had been required. That was—I’d realized later in life—one of my deepest regrets.

I’d failed mi abuelitos. They’d tried to pass onto me their traditions, mysteries, and the essences of what made them, them. I’d carried my grandfather’s ways farther than my grandmother’s, but I still felt like I hadn’t done enough for either.

Well, regret chains you down, and the way to free yourself from it is to do things differently—to choose a different path when offered. So, I put my hand against the door, and half expected a shock to my spirit or to be repelled in some way. Anticlimactically, my hand just passed through. I pushed my arm in, my shoulder, and then the rest of me.

Immediately, the air thrummed with power. Waves of it flowed over me; I felt like I was swimming through a thick, tingling syrup. The sconces had all been put out, and the dwindling light from the fireplace hid Ithia’s throne in shadows, making it seem like a creature in hiding waiting to pounce on the unwary.

Suddenly, the silver cord flashed into visibility, and a whoosh moved through me. Then, the Deer God sprang forth from my belly. I stared in surprise as he took a couple of prancing steps forward. Pleased—he was pleased, and he began walking toward the throne in anticipation. The cord faded into invisibility again, but it still pulled me along. I was forced to follow him.

The door adjacent to the throne had been left cracked open, letting a sliver of firelight from inside through. The light dimmed briefly as someone on the other side passed across. We weren’t entirely alone, then.

That didn’t stop the Deer God. He went straight up to the giant skull, his nostrils flaring. Then, he took a bite of the closest tooth. Not a nibble either—he chomped right down, crunching through the material.

My sight did the weird double-vision thing that I’d experienced before when something was two different things at once. In this case, I saw clearly that the Deer God had taken a bite out of the tooth. At the same time, the tooth was still intact.

The Deer God took another bite, and then several more, happily munching his way down the tooth’s side. I watched as eventually the whole tooth was swallowed, a mouthful at a time. Yet, it was still there. Only... only... it didn’t feel the same. Something vital had been taken away. Unlike the rest of the skull, that small section didn’t shimmer with power.

Oh, hells. I’d let the fox into the chicken coop. Or, it was more accurate to say the deer into the vegetable garden. Whatever, the metaphor didn’t matter; Ithia was going to be pissed. The throne was clearly an important symbol—maybe even a magical tool—and here was the Deer God eating it up. I was so screwed.

But… that was only the case if she could pin the theft on me. As far as I knew, neither she nor any of her advisors could see spirits. The panic that’d been burgeoning eased as I thought it through. I just had to play dumb. And be extra careful around any truth spells or abilities, but that was true no matter what.

Actually, no—stealing power from the land knight would likely get me into a different and much higher order of trouble than possessing a uekisheile symbiote. I waved at the Deer God to get him to stop, but he just snorted in response.

I got the very clear sense that the Deer God intended to eat the entire skull, and he’d do it tonight while the room was still accessible. He nudged me away, so that he could focus on assimilating the energy.

His grip on me loosened, which let me feel like I could move farther away from him. But not too far; he cautioned me that it was dangerous outside. This world’s gods—their gifts wouldn’t protect me in the state I was currently in.

And that was another shock in what was becoming a long night of them. Tenna’s Blessing didn’t apply? It totally should’ve, because I wasn’t dead; I knew that innately and deeply. But then I remembered the dark creature that’d attacked me when I’d gone on the spirit journey with Ikfael. I’d destroyed it before it could strike me, but there had been no sign of Tenna’s Blessing then either.

These spirit journeys were more dangerous than I’d first realized. No wonder my family had taken precautions to arrange for protections—the inner doorway I’d built at their urging and the weapons left behind to protect it. And, ostensibly, the Deer God too, now that we were copacetic.

We were, weren’t we?

The feeling I got back from him was that it was a promising start.

The Deer God was halfway through the lower jaw when Knight Ithia stepped cautiously through the partially opened door. She had her side sword in hand, and her eyes roved across the room looking for threats.

She lifted a necklace with her free hand, there came a brief pulse of mana, and then a soft white light shone out. A burst of qi later, she was dashing across the room, almost faster than I could see. She swept the light behind every pillar and into every corner and shadow. All it took was a couple of breaths for her to cover the whole room.

Whatever that necklace’s light was supposed to do, though, it hadn’t revealed either the Deer God or me. Which was good, because I hadn’t had nearly enough time to react or hide.

The doors opened as the guards came into to check on the noise. Ithia conferred with them, and then the guards took out their own necklaces. The three of them swept the room in a line to make sure nothing had escaped their view. I climbed up on top of the skull and hid, just in case.

They found nothing, and after conferring some more, the guards returned to their posts. Ithia lingered to look at the skull a while, her head quirked in either thought or confusion, but then she went back to the side room, leaving the door open. My curiosity got the better of me, so I crawled back down to peek.

The room was a combination of study and office. Ithia sat at a low desk, scribbling on a sheet of paper, working her way through a stack of them. There were cushions around the desk, and a small round table in the center of the office. The walls were covered in bookshelves and cabinets.

The only nod to art was the rug on the floor—the design was of intertwined tree branches and songbirds bordered by a wide yellow band. I imagined it was a nice place to rest the eyes from all the paperwork.

Ithia looked up when I entered the room, but she didn’t see me, even after I made a couple of rude gestures in her direction. It would’ve been incredibly embarrassing if she was only pretending, but from what I could tell of her body language, my invisibility was complete.

I swung around the desk to look at the document she was working on, a copy of a ship manifest. It seemed to be a part of a customs report, which included the cargo’s value and the tariffs owed and collected. I took a moment to dig into the numbers, but they looked all right, assuming the shipper wasn’t hiding anything.

Ah, the next page included a declaration from both the ship’s captain and the inspector, as well as the details of the inspection. It was all interesting stuff, and I lingered over her shoulder to read along. I… may have gotten a little carried away and lost track of time.

Periodically, Ithia got up from her work to check the throne room, but nothing visibly changed out there. Every time it happened, I just waited for her to come back, so that I could read the next report.

It was silly—I knew that—but given the crime happening just outside the door, it was nice to focus on something mundane and familiar. Nostalgic, even.

“You’re here, my shadow.”

Ithia’s words roused me from the land of accounting. It took a second for me to remember that I was in her office.

A plain, unassuming figure came through the door to sit on a cushion on the other side of the desk. Then, like a curtain falling, the blandness fell away to reveal Silasenei. Which chilled me to my metaphoric bones. Not even spirit sight could spot her when she was disguised.

It must’ve been a talent at work: either the ability she gained from her Born Hunter or, more likely, The Hidden Piece. Talents seemed to be supercharged anytime they included an article like “a” or “the.”

Silasenei observed the stack of documents on the desk and said, “The reports never end, do they?”

Ithia tsked. “Most days I am a slayer of paper rather than beasts.”

“Or lodges,” Silasenei said.

“If only. Those, I must corral as if I were a rancher.” Ithia put down the report she’d been reading. “But you are late. Tell me—what did you find?”

Silasenei scowled. “The apartment was empty. There were only the week-old remains of a cleansing flame. The saboteur has either changed bases or left the city.”

The surface of Ithia’s spirit rippled, and a handful of ruptures exposed a jagged red underneath. Her fists creaked when she clenched them, but she didn’t fly into a rage. For a time, all she did was breathe deeply.

Silasenei watched her carefully. “You’re getting better at catching the rage.”

"I've embarrassed myself once, and refuse to do so again.” Ithia shook her head. “This experience has given me new respect for the dusk warriors.”

“It’s not a path I’d choose willingly,” Silasenei said.

“Nor I,” Ithia replied grimly. “What next, then?”

“We continue to search. If nothing else, we may turn up evidence of who sent the saboteur. Given what we know is happening in Ganas and Sugrusu, the chances are high that it’s Maltra, but we’ve no proof yet.”

“And the poison?” Ithia asked.

“The alchemist turned in her report yesterday,” Silasenei said, then snorted. “The fool would’ve been done sooner, but she was juggling jobs even though I paid extra to rush the request.”

“And?”

“Whoever the saboteur was, they’ve found a way to concentrate darklight. What would normally appear to be one kutha’s worth could hide as much as fifty. Maybe more—the sample we gave her was just a small fragment, after all.”

Ithia sighed and leaned back. “So, what was supposed to be eighty kutha of darklight was actually—”

“—four thousand,” Silasenei said.

The two lapsed into silence as they considered the implications, and I was right there with them: A kutha was the equivalent of five light, so that meant someone had arranged for Ithia to absorb twenty thousand darklight in one go. No wonder she’s on the verge of turning dark.

“It was fortunate,” Silasenei said, breaking the silence, “that you were so strict with your proportions when you were younger. If you’d been slightly more lax...”

“I won’t be able to touch darklight for at least three more levels. And even then, will I be able to trust any that’s given to me?”

“We’ll have to test every batch,” Silasenei said. “For you and all our critical people.”

“True,” Ithia said, nodding. “What better way to disrupt our city than to turn all our land soldiers dusk?”

“It’s worse than that,” Silasenei said, frowning. “The people behind the attack have shown a high level of expertise. My concern is that they will continue to develop along this path, eventually being able to place their poison within silverlight.”

Ithia grimaced. “We’ll need new procedures to certify the sources of all light.”

“The hunters will, of course, comply, but the merchants and soldiers will complain. Can I include their grandmasters in our planning?”

“Yes, but let’s continue to keep my condition secret. No one else needs to know about how close I am to dark.”

“I wonder if that’s true anymore after your performance at the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge trial.”

Ithia’s face flushed. “That’s enough. The spear is already thrown and will land where it will. I’ve arranged to soften the strike. Your hunters will either handle it or break.”

“And you’ll not try to poach them—”

“Sila, I said enough. You don’t have to tell me—the years of trying to woo Mulallamu to my side have all been wasted. You can’t scold me more than I already scold myself.”

The conversation between them paused for a couple of beats. Then, out of the blue, Silasenei said, “I want revenge.”

“Oh, I’ll make Maltra bleed for what they’ve done.” Ithia closed her eyes to contain the rage building inside. “Assuming it was them—someone may be taking advantage of the trouble between us.”

“My people are investigating,” Silasenei said. “We’ll find the truth.”

“In the meantime, we grow stronger and thornier. To that end, tell Iseld to acquiesce when Voorhei comes to her with a change to their agreement. My people will be taking their boon one out of every three years. Also, tell her we are willing to buy the slots she doesn’t use.”

“We could arrange for magic lessons for her son with Aslishtei,” Silasenei said. “That’d win some goodwill.”

“And serve to chastise Asli too. Yes, I like it.” Ithia tapped a finger on her desk in thought. “Also, do what you can to influence Voorhei’s tournament in a direction that favors the land soldiers.”

“The tournament belongs to Ikfael,” the hunter grandmaster clarified.

Ithia stared in response. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

“Whether we believe it or not doesn’t matter. We must act as if it’s true, otherwise we risk intensifying the strife between lodges and the opportunity to strengthen Albei will fall from our hands. We cannot be rash or greedy.” Silasenei leaned to the side, propping herself on her elbow. “I know the people of Voorhei; they carry Inleio’s spear. Come at them too hard, and they will run from you.”

“Like Inneioleia ran from you?”

“Now who is scolding whom?” Silasenei said. Her words didn’t bite, though.

A wry grin passed between the women, and with mutual consent they switched topics to hash out the initial procedures for certifying silver and darklight. There was supposed to be more information about the saboteur, but it was in a report Silasenei handed over, which remained closed on Ithia’s desk the entire time the two of them talked.

I eavesdropped for as long as I could, but after what had to have been a couple of hours, I felt a tug and was pulled into the throne room. The thrumming that’d been in the air was completely gone, and the Deer God’s belly was grossly distended. There was a wild look in his eyes too, like you might see on a two-year old who’d just gorged himself on a tub of ice cream.

My desire to stay longer went unheard. Instead, the Deer God dragged me back to the doors and waited until I caved and pushed my way through. They used me as a bridge once again, popping out on the other side.

Afterward, he escorted me to my room and with a gentler-than-expected nudge, sent me back into my body, along with a gift: a tiny fragment of the presence he’d consumed.

I gasped as it flashed through me, becoming a part of my spirit. Then, two things happened at once. First, I received a couple of notifications:

Spirit Arts has increased from 10 to 11.

Spirit Magic has increased from 4 to 5.

And my Spirt attribute now stood at 16 (17).

Second, I heard Yuki’s panicked voice: ‘Oh my god, there you are! Are you all right? We couldn’t hear you for so long.’

I’m sorry, I said, then saved us the time explaining by merging consciousnesses. Our thoughts flickered as the memory of the past few hours were quickly reviewed and integrated by the Yuki portion of our mind. Then, our Ollie/Eight realized that there’d been an urgent message from Sun-on-Snow while his spirit had been wandering.

The blynx had detected intruders in the Glen, and Yuki alone had had to guide her response. Fortunately, it’d been the silver wolves, but they’d brought the spirit of the land Leiluminwei with them—the great egret riding on his beloved Moonlight’s back.

The conversation had been a strange one, with Yuki using their tendrils and Snow’s body to communicate, while Leiluminwei used Moonlight’s illusions. The process had also been complicated by the uekisheile’s fear at being unable to wake Ollie/Eight, yet they’d bravely faced the challenge.

What they’d learned was that the forest’s spirits were becoming uneasy. Something fundamental was changing in the land around the Glen—an energy that built like a massive storm approaching, but the weather had been and continued to be clear.

Leiluminwei and the silver wolves were still without a territory after having been driven out by a musk ox herd, so they’d come to the Glen to seek shelter from whatever the changes in the spirit world portended. Ikfael’s absence had been a surprise to them, and our heart swelled with pride as we recalled how the Yuki portion of us had bartered an agreement. The wolves could temporarily stay in the Glen in exchange for help protecting it.

We briefly sent our attention to the portion of us within Snow to look out through her eyes at the gathered wolves sleeping around the pool. Felix and Oscar were among them—the wolves were gracious enough to put up with the kittens.

The sight was a healing one, and we lingered there in our joined state to provide comfort to both Yuki and Ollie/Eight. There’d been a great many shocks of late, and both sides of us could use the solace.

The next morning, I was fed a hearty breakfast, and then sent on my way with an escort. Not Elinei this time, though. She was apparently off-duty.

When I got back to the Ten Point, I found Tegen and Teila out of their minds with worry. I told them about the attack on me, our reprisal, and the interrogation by the land knight. As I spoke, Mumu, Haol, and my bodyguards straggled into the inn one-by-one. They’d all been questioned and held overnight, until word had arrived that they were free to go.

Once we went upstairs, Ikfael listened as I retold the story of the previous day’s events, and she pinched my cheek for being so reckless. Sheedi showed up partway through, looking as pristine as I’d ever seen her, so I had to go through the details a third time.

Once Tegen and Teila got over their shock, they burned with anger at Kuros and Banan. The two hunters from Albei were supposed to be family—cousins, at least. Their betrayal offended everything the lodges stood for.

Teila also worried about Silasenei’s reaction to their deaths, but Mumu explained that, if anything, the grandmaster owed our lodge compensation for the attempts on my life. As for the rest of the Albei lodge, word was that Banan and Kuros hadn’t had many friends. There shouldn’t be anyone going out of their way to make trouble.

The team discussed Iseld’s and Ithia’s offers, and everyone agreed to both. The support each could offer, now and in the future, would be worth the slowdown in our lodge’s development.

Later, I pulled Ikfael aside to tell her about the developments in the Glen, and she had me doublecheck to make sure Leiluminwei wasn’t attempting to steal her territory. To both Yuki’s and my eyes, though, he just appeared to be napping.

As for the conversation between Ithia and Silasenei, I kept that to myself for the time being. No one else needed to know… especially since the story involved the Deer God stealing the magic from the land knight’s throne.

On the other hand, it sounded like the Deer God’s actions affected the forest around the Glen. I knew I should tell Ikfael, but later though—after we left Albei. There was too much risk of being overheard. Gods, Silasenei could be in the room at that moment and I wouldn’t even know it.

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I Status checked everyone present. Whew, no surprises. At least for now.

38

Steps Along the Way

The day was bound to be a busy one. We had to officially report Kuros's and Banan’s deaths to Silasenei, update Kila’s family on the new loan amount, go to the city head’s office to make sure Knight Ithia’s judgement was going to be finalized correctly, continue our marketing campaign for the tournament, research the requirements for renting a section of the Butchery’s plaza as the event space, figure out how we were going to deal with tournament injuries, arrange a meeting between Iseld and me, put to rest the land soldier’s ghost outside the north gate, and so much more. It felt overwhelming, given that we only had about a month to plan the tournament.

I scrounged up paper and ink in preparation for writing up the ultimate To-Do list. Except... except... Tegen was raring to get back to refining, and as a result, my team volunteered me—by unanimous consent of everyone but me—to join the qi-battery brigade. Even my bodyguards joined in, the stern looks from Agath and Moon dampening my enthusiasm.

I had made them worry, and I’d been something of a lightning rod ever since arriving in Albei. It was probably for the best that I act in an advisory capacity to the event planning, so I capitulated, but not without making sure they all understood that I was available to help with anything the tournament required.

Look, I understood that they humored me when acknowledging my offer, but a man had his pride, all right? I’d had to learn to be good at so many things since arriving on this world, and I finally saw the opportunity to shine at something I was already skilled at. You couldn’t blame a guy for trying.

In my naiveté, I thought helping Tegen to refine his qi would be like being on a yoga retreat, alternating between moments of focused activity and meditation. That misperception was destroyed the moment I saw the determination on his face. The lodge needed Tegen to succeed—so much depended on this proof of Ikfael’s Boon.

Lives weren’t on the line, per se, but they kind of were. So, I let go of the regret for not helping organize the tournament, got my head on straight, and contributed my qi to the cause.

The other members of the battery brigade—Teila and Yuki—approached the process with similar seriousness. I mean, I’d sensed Yuki’s intense focus previously, but it really hit me once I witnessed it in the context of the others.

Looking over Yuki’s shoulder and watching the three of them in action was fascinating, as were the clever series of pumps and valves the uekisheile had developed to keep equilibrium within Tegen’s meridians.

Yuki also experimented with a pressure chamber that—if they managed to get it working—would refine qi over time. The only caveats were that it required at least one already refined dantian as the source of the pressure, and that it’d likely be a slow process. On the order of years slow. Still, for people who weren’t in a hurry, it’d be a good, non-resource-intensive solution.

The days passed in a qi-soaked blur, although I managed to leave the confines of our room a few times. In the evenings, I visited the Ten Point’s kitchen to show off dishes from my old world. I’d also arranged to go outside the city to help Calfet find his rest. The land soldier’s ghost went on his way gratefully once he’d learned the threat to his city had been dealt with.

Then, on the fifth evening, a chime resounded through Tegen’s body as his third-eye meridian fully refined. We’d done it—his capacity for qi was now double what it’d been before the process started.

The adults celebrated by getting drunk. Teila and I sat back that evening and looked on in horror as Tegen dared Agath and Moon to beat him with their fists. Then Haol tried to shoot Mumu with his bow, so that she could catch the arrows out of the air. Teila had to grab one arm while I grabbed the other. Mumu complained that we were spoiling the fun, but we just ignored her.

The way my normally staid team cut loose, it was a good reminder they’d been running themselves ragged ever since Inleio’s death. I tried to be empathetic, but that ran thin the third time Haol vomited on me.

The next morning, Teila joined the other hunters as they left to run errands around the city. I watched the adults struggle with their hangovers, gloating, and then headed back upstairs to help Tegen learn how to sense mana. The goal was Healing Water, which should be fine since it was technically Ikfael teaching him the spell, not the lodge.

He looked peaked, but that didn’t stop his determination. Alas, the process didn’t go as smoothly as the qi refining had.

Ikfael had been able to sense mana for as long as she could remember, while my grasp of the energy had come from the ritual she’d cast on me, and Yuki got it because they could literally feel me doing it. Tegen had none of those things—not unless he was willing to permanently attach to Yuki.

We never gave him the option.

Tegen craved-needed-hungered for mana magic, and Yuki and I worried the temptation would overwhelm his normally good sense. Don’t misunderstand, there wasn’t anything wrong with having Yuki integrated with my body—I had no regrets in that regard—but a decision that important needed to be approached with a clear mind and heart.

So, we kept at it: casting spell after spell, trying different exercises, guided visualizations, and doing just about everything we could think of to increase his sensitivity to mana. None of us were experts, though.

I knew one, Aslishtei, but she’d pissed me off with her attempt to “buy” me from the lodge. If I asked her for advice, the help would likely come with strings. I’d do it for Tegen, but I’d prefer to leave that option as a last resort. I mean, really... the thought of being in her debt made me wince.

After working with Tegen for three full days, Ikfael and I determined that we were being too ambitious starting with Healing Water, and we instead came up with the idea of running the elemental aspects through him. So, I tried the ones I knew: water, air, earth, and nature.

Tegen didn't respond to any until I got to the last, nature. Then, his meridians subtly resonated. I’d actually missed it—and Tegen said he hadn’t felt anything—but Yuki's senses were on other level. They’d spotted the change and encouraged me to try again.

Tegen’s meridians responded once more, and this time Yuki said that there was also a flutter of activity in his pineal gland and temporal lobe. The man breathed easier from the influx of nature mana, but otherwise claimed not to feel any different. That was expressly not true, based on Yuki’s observations inside him, so they proposed we all pour nature mana into him at the same time to increase the effect on his system.

The tension on Tegen’s face softened, his shoulders slid to more restful positions, and his spirit unwound. For a moment, he resembled who he’d been under the effects of the Grace spell, which... which... let people feel what they had in common. Their senses of themselves overlapped, and it harmonized them.

I looked over at Ikfael to ask for her permission, and she gave a resigned nod in response. Yuki was already on board, having picked up the idea from me, so I cast Grace, and then immediately switched back to contributing nature mana.

I felt comfortable and at ease. I didn’t have to be anything or anyone. I didn’t have any expectations of the people around me either. They could just be themselves, including poor Tegen who was finally letting go of his own self-expectations, the recriminations he’d heaped on himself for not being better. They sloughed off like dead skin.

The self-judgement would be back when Grace ended—the spell wasn’t a cure-all for one’s baggage, I knew that from my own experiences—but in the meantime Tegen got a taste of that freedom.

His eyes were clear, and they shone with nature mana. “I feel healthy, like a tree is healthy.”

“Bring the rune to mind,” Ikfael signed.

“A vertical line with eight marks at the top,” I reminded him. “There are four on each side, and it looks like an arrow pointing down.”

“The important thing is to open to the World Spirit,” Ikfael signed. “Make a place inside yourself for the rune, and let the rune come to you.”

While Ikfael and I offered guidance, Yuki gave direct feedback: ‘That. Whatever you’re doing is right. Your head dantian is responding. Wait, hold on, you’ve gone too far. The other way. Easy—'

“Be easy,” I said at the same time. “Don’t force it.”

The Grace spell ran out, but Tegen was in the groove. As Ikfael stepped away, her mana now dry, Tegen homed in on the state of mind needed for mana magic. Yuki was next to tap out, but they continued to provide him with feedback. Finally, it was my mana tank’s turn to empty.

At the end, it was Tegen who crossed the finish line alone. We cheered him on, but it was his willing spirit that carried him the last steps toward mana magic.

Tegen’s first spell was to turn pure mana into nature mana. Not exactly exciting, but it was enough to earn him the Nature Magic skill. He looked stunned as he told us, as wide-eyed as a baby.

Ostensibly, we should’ve thrown a second party for Tegen, but when we broke the news to the others, they blanched at the idea of getting that drunk again. We all settled for Teila and I singing and dancing for him instead.

Tegen laughed, cried, and smiled like a loon throughout our performance, and seriously, this couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. I’d never known anyone as selfless as him.

The next morning, my team gathered to reflect on what we’d learned from Tegen’s experience.

First and foremost was the success of the qi refinement. And interestingly, he’d more than doubled his capacity by a small margin. According to Yuki, the reason was due to the way his dantians were naturally formed.

That introduced a variable—there was also the chance a person’s dantians might underperform—but the hunters assured me that even something as low as a fifty percent increase in qi capacity would bring people out in droves for the tournament. Still, we’d need to include fine print to ensure people were aware of the possibility.

We’d have to set expectations anyway, just in case someone with already refined qi entered the tournament. If they did, the boon might not help them at all, unless they were after mana magic.

Speaking of which, Tegen’s path to acquiring mana magic wasn’t going to be replicable—not unless I was willing to cast Grace on every single winner, which I wasn’t. Not only did I not want to wantonly share myself, but it’d also expose Yuki’s presence. That was a nonstarter.

What we could do, though, was use Yuki as a sensor for feedback for what was and wasn’t working. Ideally, that would include running a bunch of different mana aspects through the recipients, though we were limited to the ones we already knew.

At which point in the conversation, we all looked at our lodge master, Mumu. She had the keys to the safe, after all. The lodge’s spell library was in her keeping.

She said, “The entire lodge contributed to the retribution against Borba, and Eight doubly so in helping with the hunt’s aftermath. He’s already learned every spell available to apprentices—”

“You could raise me to journeyman early,” I suggested.

But Mumu shook her head and said, “You need to be at least sixteen, and even that’s considered rare. No, I was thinking we could give you access to the reference elemental runes in the lodge’s possession instead. They won’t be immediately useful, but they’ll give you more options to test.”

Tegen frowned. “That’s not much of a reward, given all that Eight’s done.”

“I know,” Mumu said, her face downcast, “but the restrictions on spells are strictly enforced. This is the wisdom of the lodge. It’s unfortunate, but there’s little we can offer our Eight—at least until he becomes a full adult.”

“That’s fine,” I said, waving away the downturn in mood. “I’ll just save up the contributions until I become a journeyman hunter. In the meantime, I’ll use what I can to increase the value of Ikfael’s Boon.”

“We’ll head to the Albei lodge to access their library,” Mumu said. “They’ll have a bigger collection than the one in Voorhei.”

Even with the additional options, though, the boon’s chances of giving someone access to mana magic was going to be spotty at best, so we’d have to add that to the fine print too.

All in all, we spent about an hour talking, at the end of which Haol took in the portion of Yuki that’d been inside Tegen. It was his turn for qi refinement.

The others would have to start without me, though, since Mumu and I were headed to the Hunter’s Lodge.

People whispered as we made our way to Silasenei’s office. There was no end to the gossip surrounding us: the murders, the healers, the tournament—and most recently, the deaths of Kuros and Banan.

Mumu explained there’d been rumors that the recently deceased hunters had been planning to leave the lodge to join the soldiers. I didn’t normally put much stock in hearsay, especially the kind so suspect in its timing, but if it helped keep trouble to a minimum, then fine.

Maybe the rumors were even true. The dead hunters had been spending a lot of time with soldiers lately. No one from that lodge had come to complain, though.

As for the healers, my team had done their best to shelter me, but I’d heard the gossip about the strife between our lodges too—half the conversations in the Ten Point’s dining room had seemed to be about it. Word was, anyone taking our side was risking trouble if another disease swept through Albei.

Anyway, people talked, and I did my best to ignore them.

Silasenei met us at her office door with curious eyes, but then she smiled enigmatically at hearing our request. She personally escorted us down a flight of stairs to a small lobby under the lodge. A hunter sat at a desk, and around him were four doors, two of which led to ritual rooms, the third went to the lodge’s armory and storeroom, and finally the fourth connected to the spell library.

The lobby was lit with sconces as well as a soft light from a crystal embedded in the ceiling. I wouldn’t have noticed the crystal, except I’d seen some just like it in the hands of Ithia and her guards.

I cleared my throat. “What’s that? A fancy kind of candle stone?”

“It’s an alarm stone,” Mumu said. “The light reveals anyone or anything hidden. They are very useful but also very expensive. Our village hopes to buy one for our pyramid one day.”

The ends of Silasenei’s smile tugged higher as she said, “Nothing may hide under the stone’s influence. Why don’t you try it?”

Curious, I cast Camouflage, and while the qi circulated correctly, all that happened was a smearing of colors. If anything, I’d be more noticeable than without the spell.

“The effect also works on Scentless Hunter, Hollow Night, and other forms of invisibility,” Silasenei said.

“What, Hollow Night too? How does that work?”

Silasenei gestured to the hunter guarding the area, the mana around him shifted, and then he was gone, replaced by a black human-shaped blob. The hunter body was still physically there, but the spell had removed all evidence of his presence in the universe, the absence of which was made painfully clear by the alarm stone.

A minute passed, and the hunter reappeared.

“What about ghosts?” I asked, doing my best to make it sound like idle curiosity.

“I'd not considered them before.” Silasenei looked at the alarm stone, then turned her gaze toward me. “But maybe I should.”

Mumu stepped forward to bow to Silasenei. “I’ve never seen an alarm stone demonstrated before. Thank you for the opportunity to learn.”

Silasenei’s subtle smile returned. “The hunter’s path is to be clever, bold, and cunning, yet you should never forget that there will be others who have talents and magics we don’t yet know or understand.”

Both Mumu and I nodded reflexively. “Might I…” Mumu began, but hesitated after glancing at the nearby hunter.

Silasenei gestured, and he disappeared into Hollow Night again. With the spell active, he couldn’t sense us at all anymore. Then, with only Silasenei and me as witnesses, Mumu faded into her version of the land. The alarm stone didn’t do anything to reveal her, so I had to struggle to keep her in view.

“Certain talents,” Silasenei said, sounding pleased, “affect the mind of our prey, bypassing the alarm stone’s light. The ability arising from our Mumu’s Scout Born talent is one.” She turned toward me. “If I’m not mistaken, our Eight can do something similar.”

A drop of sweat ran down the small of my back, and I licked my lips, thinking of the time I’d eavesdropped on her conversation in the pyramid.

“Yours isn’t a talent though,” Silasenei continued. “I’ve seen the map of your spirit.”

Becoming one with the land was something I’d learned from mi abuelito. I’d spent decades trying to hone it, yet I’d never fully understood until coming to this world how it wasn’t a skill to be practiced but a state of mind—a way of being.

Mumu stepped forward again to run interference. “Our Eight is a good seed and a blessing to the village. We’re grateful for his membership in the family of hunters, just as we’re grateful to the grandmaster for her lessons.”

She then bowed once more—her body language respectful but her spirit defensive. Silasenei must’ve sensed it too, because her sharp eyes cut into Mumu. Yet Mumu didn’t flinch. Not a bit, and she stared right back at the grandmaster, which... delighted the woman?

Silasenei laughed loudly, then clapped Mumu on the arm. “Come, you don’t need to worry. I won’t steal your apprentice away. That’s not my path. Now, let’s get going. You have a reward to offer him.”

However, as we approached the library door, the grandmaster paused to tap a stone underfoot. “Ah, I should mention, alarm stones don’t need to be visible to work. The required enchantments are more expensive, but the resulting stones can be hidden and still expose the invisible. A person might even”—she reached under her shirt to pull out a crystal pendant on a chain—“wear one as a necklace and have it keyed so that only they can see what’s hidden. The expense is even greater, but within the means of those in power. Just something to note for my dear hunters, in case the lesson ever proves valuable.”

Mumu did an admirable job not blanching. Me not so much—my eight-year-old body reacted out of my control. The adrenaline hitting my system summoned Yuki’s attention, but after a breath, I told them that things were okay. Still, they took control of my endocrine system to calm me down, then sat back to keep watch.

Silasenei was practically telling us that she knew I’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Iseld, but she did it in a way that didn’t officially acknowledge it. Actually, she’d taken things a step farther, encouraging the behavior by teaching us what to watch for.

Thank god alarm stones didn’t reveal spirits. I shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Knight Ithia ever learned about the Deer God eating her throne.

“Nothing to say?” Silasenei asked.

“That’s—that’s amazing,” I squeaked.

Her smile spread, and for the life of me, I couldn’t read what it meant. She pulled a key from—I was too distracted to notice from where—and I knew I had to get my thoughts in order. I took another breath and cast a quick Iron Heart to settle my nerves. That earned me glances from the other hunters present, but I didn’t care.

The spell library was an unassuming room. There was a rug on the floor with the lodge’s crossed spear and bow, a couple of desks surrounded by cushions, and tapestries of animal portraits on the walls. The most important objects, however, were a bookcase and two cabinets that resembled old-fashioned card catalogs.

Silasenei and alarm stones forgotten, I was drawn to the bookcase, and noted how it was constructed of black walnut, the wood neatly joined together. The carpenter who’d built the case had used the wood’s grain as the foundation for the design—carving a serpent into it so that it looked like it lived in the wood.

Turning, I saw that the cabinets were also made from black walnut, and they had a similar motif worked into them. The drawers had brass handles, each one a scale on the serpent’s skin. I was stunned by the love and attention to detail invested.

Mumu carried a tray-sized box over to one of the tables and opened the lid to reveal a velvet-lined interior filled with ten silver orbs. Like a magnet, they also drew me.

“Each of these contains the mana rune for an element,” Mumu said. “The lodge keeps them for reference, and you’ll find them useful when searching for spell patterns.”

That was our cover story. I was a curious little pot of questions, after all, with already-proven success in finding spells in the wild. And I didn’t have to pretend to want the elemental runes, either—I did. All it took was Mumu’s nod of permission for me to gently, reverently pick up an orb.

I injected mana into it, and a perfect circle appeared in my mind. How appropriate—the first rune was for hydromancy, the one that had begun my magic journey. The second was the three wavy lines of aeromancy. The third was another three wavy lines, although these were angled to resemble a bonfire.

Yuki, are you ready? I thought, buzzing with excitement.

The uekisheile was just as thrilled, and our happiness doubled as the two of us merged. We’d bring our full potential to the task of memorizing the runes.

We lost track of time as we examined the orbs one by one. Five of the runes were already familiar. Five were not. Ten orbs for ten elements in total, as categorized by the people of Diaksha.

“Before you ask,” Mumu said, smiling gently, “our lodge doesn’t have spells for all these elements. Yet we acquired the runes anyway in the hopes that one day we’d find them. Countless hunters have died in the trying.”

We nodded in understanding, then our head tilted in thought. “Other lodges have spells constructed from these other elements?”

"Each lodge specializes in its own kinds of magics. They are, however, deeply held secrets.” Mumu raised her hand to stop us from interrupting. “Later. Right now, we’ve already taken up enough of the grandmaster’s time. Do you have the runes memorized?”

We split our consciousness, and I tested each of the runes by bringing them to mind along with a touch of mana. Over the course of a couple of minutes, I had a series of mana balls floating in front of me. And more importantly, my Status updated.

Magical

- Aeromancy 6

- Geomancy 5

- Gravity Magic 0

- Hydromancy 6

- Light Magic 0

- Nature Magic 5

- Probability Magic 0

- Pyromancy 0

- Qi Body 11

- Qi Body Arts 8

- Spirit Magic 5

- Time Magic 0

The new elements were gravity, light, probability, pyromancy, and time; each was at rank 0.

How the lodge’s ancestors must’ve struggled to collect these runes—to wrest both them and the spells in this library from the beasts and plants? How much sweat, tears, and blood had been spilled to build a place for those secrets to be shared? To continue defending them, so that they could be passed on from generation to generation. The Path to Perfection was long and difficult, and yet the ancestors eased the way for those following them.

I nodded to Mumu to acknowledge that I’d memorized the runes, and she closed the box and returned it to its place within one of the cabinets.

When she caught me staring, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Overcome with emotion, I didn’t trust my voice to reply, so I simply nodded again.

At first glance, this was an unassuming little room, but it was also the holiest I’d found yet.

39

Making a Splash on Festival’s Eve

Haol took seven days to refine his qi, and Mumu five. They both already had access to mana magic, so the only person left on the team without it was Teila.

That triggered a long, private conversation between Mumu and her, but the conclusion was never in doubt; Teila’s parents would be thrilled if she also received Ikfael’s Boon.

So, five days later, we cheered when she refined her qi, and celebrated with a party three days after that when she gained access to mana magic. For the record, it was Nature Magic that resonated with Teila the most.

In the meantime, the city buzzed with activity. By this point in the year, all the nearby villages and towns were done with their harvests, and the produce that wasn’t being saved for winter was brought to Albei for the autumn festival. The same was true for meat. The animals not likely to survive the winter were slaughtered, with the excess brought to Albei.

Artisans scrambled to prepare for the festival too—their workshops in high gear. The ones traveling to Albei claimed their spots in the Butchery, the market expanding to quintuple its normal size. As for those who resided in the city, they hung ribbons outside their shops and placed figurines of Agraza the Green and Gray outside their doors.

Agraza was the goddess of fertility. One interesting fact I’d learned about her during my stay in Albei—a shocking one, actually—was that her blessing was a curse: anyone who abused the gift of fertility was instantly struck barren and their genitalia made to wither. Apparently, in the ancient days of Diaksha, there’d been those who’d attempted to breed human beings for their talents, treating them like livestock, and that had offended the goddess.

Anyway, the one thorny, knotty problem we encountered in our event planning was people’s refusal to support the tournament. Word had spread that the Hunter’s Lodge in Voorhei was causing trouble, including with the healers. Those healers had made their displeasure known, and now no one wanted to even be associated with us.

For example, there was no dedicated arena, so we thought to have stands built to make it easier for the audience to watch the fighters, but every single carpenter Uncle Kila visited refused the job. We couldn’t even entice any of the street vendors to sell food and drink. As it was, the audience would have to bring their own.

Fortunately, Albei’s hunters had rights to the area around their lodge, and Silasenei rented the space to us in exchange for a discount on the entry fee for her people. The alchemists also came on board to heal anyone injured during the proceedings. As expected, they charged a fee for their presence, with the cost of any potions or elixirs used added on top.

Uncle Kila’s family agreed to handle all the upfront costs, also for a fee, and if the amount wasn’t paid back in full by the end of the tournament, it’d be added onto our loan—four eistaak to be paid over a period of ten years at ten percent interest per year. The terms weren’t as bad as they could’ve been, and I knew the family was already risking a lot just working with us.

Still, my expectation was that we’d pay off the loan well in advance of the due date. Assuming the tournament was a success, which it should be. That was what I kept telling myself.

We were a week out from the festival—thirteen days from the tournament’s start—and we still didn’t have any entrants. Silasenei’s hunters promised to participate, as did some of the mercenaries and land soldiers, but the booth we’d set up to register people had yet to see a single visitor.

Speaking of which, the booth had been built by a carpenter who didn’t know it was for our tournament. The same was true for a pavilion being prepared offsite. We couldn’t have Ikfael just sitting on a cushion out in the open. No, she needed the pomp due to a respected and powerful spirit of the land—a special place from which to observe the fights.

Kila’s family had used an intermediary to commission both the booth and pavilion.

As my team became available, they threw themselves into the effort—disguising themselves to talk up the tournament around the city. The closer we came to the festival’s start, the fuller the taverns and inns became. We started to see people from Ganas and Sugrusu arrive, folks with no vested interest in our local politics. We hoped they’d take advantage of the opportunity the tournament provided.

The day before the festival, I was perched atop the Hunter’s Lodge, keeping an eye on the hidden watchers spread out across the plaza. There were seven in total, including our friends Hutwa, Krees, and Nokla from the Intersection of the Assassins. The rest appeared to be a mix from the soldiers, alchemists, and a few others of uncertain origin.

And all they did was watch, tucked into their shadowed corners or pretending to be attendees at the pre-festival market. Their talents gave them away though, as well as the way their spirits sharpened whenever anyone approached our booth.

Two days prior, a drunk had come up to the booth, and for a moment I’d thought we had our first registrant, but he’d only wanted to know why it was there. When he’d learned it was for the tournament, he stumbled away in a panic, and the watchers had all relaxed.

In addition to the hidden folks, there were also the festival’s attendees ogling our booth; it wasn’t unusual to see people pointing, then bringing their heads together to exchange gossip. I did my best to contain my annoyance. People were people, and they weren’t even the source of my real anxiety.

No, my stomach was awash in acid, filled to the brim with worry, because there’d been no sign of any of our promised allies. My mind conjured scenarios where we were the victims of some intricate conspiracy among them. Even Sheedi, who’d had unshakeable faith in our schemes, was looking concerned. She stood below, alongside Tegen at the booth—the two of them waiting, waiting… and waiting some more.

We were at the point where I was seriously considering whether we should relax the tournament’s rules to allow people in our employ to participate. That would at least open a path for Agath, Moon, and the Kila family guards. All we needed was someone, anyone, to be the first crack in the dam erected by the Healer’s Lodge. I was convinced that there’d be a flood of entries once people saw it was possible to resist them.

As if summoned like the devil, I spotted Vorkut the Master Healer on a horse accompanying a wagon driven by… Uncle Kila? What?

I cast Hawk's Eye for a better look and saw Vorkut’s stormy face. Uncle Kila was usually hard to read, but at that moment he looked mulish, his brows down and his gaze determinedly forward, not once glancing aside to the healer sternly lecturing him.

Kila was followed by a handful of his family guards, but none of them dared to interfere. All they could do was steadfastly ignore the master healer with his own contingent of bodyguards.

For a moment, I watched the unhappy parade’s approach, and then my brain caught up to what my eyes were seeing and I blazed downstairs with Dog’s Agility, ducking under and weaving through the hunters in my way. I’d unintentionally raised a commotion behind me, and I dimly noted how I picked up my own train. The hunters had a sixth sense for drama.

I burst out the lodge’s doors and caught sight of both Mumu and Haol also converging on Kila’s wagon. Vorkut brought his horse to a stop as soon as he spotted their approach, and his bodyguards arrayed themselves around him in a defensive formation.

Uncle Kila kept going, but his shoulders didn’t relax until Mumu and Haol were able to join him. I was only a beat slower leaping aboard, climbing over the lumber and stacks of brightly colored cloth to find a perch in the back.

Behind us, Vorkut turned his horse around, and his bodyguards retreated with him. None of the hidden watchers had moved to interfere, although the crowd of looky-loos grew, including all the hunters who’d spilled out of the lodge to watch the show. I let myself settle back and realized that Ikfael’s pavilion was being delivered.

I scanned the crowds again, and when I didn’t see any threats, I looked over the materials: The planks and poles had been milled from oak. The nails were iron and straight enough. The cloth was thick, oiled, and striped in green, gray, and blue.

A bundle of hammers lay on top, and next to them was a rolled-up design—a sketch, really—for a raised, covered platform with cloth walls. There’d be a slit and flaps in the front that could be tied open to act as an entrance and to allow Ikfael to observe the tournament. Or the flaps could be tied closed for privacy.

The design was simple, practical, and probably the best Kila could do, given the healers’ opposition. We’d just have to decorate it beautifully; Ikfael deserved at least that much.

Still, the advantage of a simple design was that even a bunch of amateurs could do the work, and we assembled the pavilion over the next few hours. It would’ve gone faster, but the local hunters we’d pressed into service were a talkative bunch. They’d also insisted on breaking twice to go get festival snacks—which, to be fair, were delicious.

Still, we were lucky they’d considered it an honor to help build the pavilion for Ikfael. They’d chattered with excitement too about the contest ahead, and yet none of them had registered. When I’d asked them why, they’d shut their mouths and glanced at each other with knowing looks.

It was my first real clue that something was cooking in the background.

That evening, Knight Otter walked out from the inn and toward the Hunter’s Lodge, ostensibly to look over the pavilion we’d built, but the real goal was to drum up interest in the tournament. My team escorted her in a slow, dignified procession, and people bowed as she passed, none of them realizing that the real Ikfael was inside the water sculpture. Still, the procession did its job—it wasn’t every day that a spirit of the land walked the streets of Albei.

Honestly, Knight Otter was magical. Yes, pedantically literally magical, but it was also in the way the firelight shone against the jewel-like blues and blacks of her clothing, the flint of her eyes, and the stone gray of her fur. Sometimes the light reflected off the water; sometimes it shone through. And she’d gotten so skilled controlling Knight Otter’s movements—it was as if she was a real, living being, even subtly breathing.

People followed to watch, although always from the sides. To walk directly behind us implied support, and no one was willing to do that. Not yet, anyway.

I prayed with all my might for that “not yet” part.

Fires dotted the plaza as early revelers gathered on the festival’s eve. Singers and musicians competed to be heard over each other, while dancers in beaded buckskin and feathered capes spread through the crowds to demonstrate their skills. An acting troupe had even set up a small stage in one corner.

We made a stir, our little group, and more and more people accumulated to watch us pass. We must’ve looked like a ship cutting through the sea.

Knight Otter’s even and measured steps carried her forward as if it was she and she alone who occupied the plaza. The actors should’ve discarded their own play to come watch her masterful performance. She’d gotten that good.

Eventually, the ship of our procession arrived at the pavilion, and Knight Otter stepped up onto its platform. Two lit braziers to either side illuminated her as she looked over the furnishings we’d borrowed from Uncle Kila’s family—the gold-stitched cushions, the mahogany table, the teapot and cups carved from lapis lazuli—and then she turned to face the crowd that’d formed. With a graceful motion, she gestured for me to come up beside her and say a few words in greeting.

I blinked twice, the time needed for the request to register. What?

The crowd had seen the signs as clearly as I had; they turned their attention to me. I glared at Knight Otter. What are you doing? I tried to convey.

Knight Otter smiled kindly in reply, humoring the shy child, and she waved me up onto the platform. Well, improv had never been my thing, but I wasn’t going to spoil Ikfael’s show. I took a breath to get my panic under control, and when that didn’t work, jumped into Yuki.

Our body loosened, even as our thoughts raced. It took too little time to step onto the platform as instructed, so we gazed out at the crowd meaningfully, appearing to consider our words carefully, which we did—only at a much faster paced than we let on.

We clapped twice, and said, “Our Honored Ikfael greets you all.”

Then we noticed how our child’s voice was inadequate to the task, so we cast Bear’s Strength to increase the power of our lungs and diaphragm: “Our Honored Ikfael greets you all, and she wishes you well on the eve of this year’s autumn festival. May your harvests have been plentiful and your hunting bounteous.”

The crowd whispered and shifted, like a single organism made of many parts. Ours and Ikfael’s actions had confused the people—uncertainty rippled among their spirits—since very few of them had ever heard of a spirit of the land behaving in this way before. We needed to do our best to put them at ease.

“For centuries, Honored Ikfael has provided for the people of Voorhei. Now, her wisdom spurs her to extend that goodwill to Albei too. She offers, through a contest of skill at arms, the opportunity for the winner to deepen the well of their qi, as well as to learn how to wield mana.”

Surprised murmurs arose from the crowd. Clearly, despite our best efforts over the couple of weeks, not everyone had heard the news.

“Ikfael’s Boon is the prize’s name, and a boon it truly is. Who among us doesn’t understand the beauty, the potential, the power of magic?”

Almost as if we’d planned it in advance, Ikfael launched a ball of rainbow-colored water into the sky. High above the crowd, the ball burst like a firework, and the colors danced and circled in an amazing display of her control.

We had to force our eyes to look away from the spectacle and focus on the audience. “The tournament will begin in three days. In this way, Honored Ikfael opens her hands to you. Will you seize the chance she offers?”

All at once, the dancing streamers of water flowed toward Ikfael, and she held out her hands to receive them. It was a wonderful trick; the audience didn’t have to know that it was Ikfael storing the water once more in her Hoarder’s Pocket.

That was as good a closing as we’d get, so we turned to lead Knight Otter into the pavilion. Before we could enter, though, a muffled voice yelled from the crowd:

“Is it true Honored Ikfael can teach a spell to heal?”

Who in the crowd knew of Healing Water? Albei's hunters and Kila’s family already had all the information they needed. Perhaps it was someone wondering why the Healer’s Lodge opposed us...

Well, whatever the reason, the answer was the same, so we said, “Yes, this is a truth. Honored Ikfael can teach those who can use mana to cast a spell that heals injuries and cures poisons. The spirit of the land is the spell’s originator, and she makes it available to those willing to trade for it.”

An angry voice from a different part of the audience yelled, “The Healer’s Lodge will oppose any who learn this spell.”

Other voices from different spots agreed, shouting their own opposition.

Our anger arose at the realization that the healers had supporters within the crowd, and we paused before replying to comfort Ollie/Eight. His distaste colored our thinking.

“The healers may oppose whoever or whatever they wish. However, the spell is still being contested under the law and until that matter is settled, anyone can learn the spell and use it to benefit their families.”

“That’s a lie!”

“It’s the law,” we declared.

“You’re—” But the voice cut off before it could say more.

Albei hunters had filtered through the crowd, and they’d finally reached the healers’ supporters within it. We didn’t know what the hunters did or said, but there came no more outcries. The crowd didn’t know what had happened, though, and they shuffled uneasily waiting to hear more.

“Honored Ikfael is outside the dominion of any institution. Her responsibilities are to the gods and to the land. Whatever people do, the hunters and the healers included, she is beyond them. The generosity she extends is hers, and every person must decide for themselves whether they have the courage and determination to take it up.”

And on that final note, we guided Knight Otter into the pavilion and closed the flaps behind us. After splitting our consciousnesses, Yuki buzzed with excitement. They’d never spoken in front of such a large crowd before. I, on the other hand, was doing my best to contain my nausea.

Theater audiences, film crews, and even large celebrations were fine. I’d gotten used to them over the years, but once the number got up into the hundreds or, heaven forbid, the thousands, it was another matter entirely. I wiped my palms on my pants and listened to the crowd outside chattering.

Our silhouettes were likely visible through the pavilion walls, so Ikfael parked Knight Otter on a cushion while I knelt beside her until I felt better. “We’ll need to stay here until the crowd disperses,” I told her, “then we’ll head back to the inn and—”

Outside, the crowd went silent, and a pair of boots sounded on the step up to the platform. They walked toward the pavilion entrance, where someone clapped twice. “I prefer to remain nameless, but I am here to petition for Honored Ikfael’s mercy and trade for the Healing Water spell.”

That was a much faster—and better—response than I’d expected. More courageous too. Whoever it was, they were opposing the Healer’s Lodge in front of a huge crowd.

Beside me, Knight Otter’s face was resolved. There was a glimmer in her eyes that spoke of reciprocating determination with determination. So, I got up to open the way.

A woman knelt outside, her hands over her heart, her forehead on the ground. It’d taken a moment, though, to make out the details—a cloak and hood covered her body, and when she sat up, her face was fully masked.

Okay, not so courageous, after all, but smart. Very smart, and patient too. She must’ve been waiting and preparing for this moment. Unless people normally carried face masks with them wherever they went, but that didn’t seem likely. There was a slim possibility she was a bandit, thief, or assassin—I forcefully corralled my runaway imagination and checked her identity with my Status camera.

Heicata the Lodge Master (Human)

Talents: Number Sensible, Nose for Animals, Soft Walker

Dear gods, it was the master of Voorsowen’s hunters making good on her desire to learn Healing Water. She must’ve heard Ikfael was in the city and decided there was no need to wait until the shrine was completed.

With her back to the crowd, Heicata signed, “From your surprise, it seems you recognize me. I’d prefer if no one else did, though.”

Knight Otter gave permission for Heicata to come closer, and I closed the flap behind her. Mind racing, I also signed, “No names or identifying information. You never know who’s listening or watching.”

“Yes, please,” Heicata signed. “I expect to eventually get caught but would like to delay that happening for as long as possible.”

Knight Otter nodded. “You wish to exchange for the Healing Water spell. What do you have to offer in return?”

The question was another departure from the norm, since spirits of the land usually set the terms for their exchanges. This way, though, we were able to make Healing Water available to people from all walks of life.

Heicata considered the question for a long time before she cautiously signed, “In truth, the fair price for life is a life, but I need mine to put the spell to good use. My allegiance is to my home; I’m needed there. But perhaps a part of it can be spared—a quarter devoted to Honored Ikfael.”

After she’d spoken, Heicata’s spirit clouded with worry that her offer insulted the spirit of the land, so I asked her to clarify: “What does that mean?”

“A quarter of all I earn will belong to Honored Ikfael—taak, light, everything.”

Ikfael’s spirit shook in surprise, but the water sculpture’s face remained resolute. She carefully nodded.

Heicata sighed in relief, although a knot of concern remained within her. No one planning to oppose the Healer’s Lodge went into the process lightly. If she was ever reported to have used the spell on someone outside what was allowed by the law, she’d be exiled and forced to set up a mender’s hut in the wilderness.

“Bring your offerings to my shrine once a year,” Knight Otter signed.

“I will.” Heicata bowed deep, her forehead touching the ground. “Gratefully so.”

A familiar bowl materialized in Knight Otter’s hands.

Heicata sat up, her eyes curious. “This is…?”

“The spell is inside,” I signed in reply, taking the bowl from Knight Otter. I enchanted it with qi and mana, and gave it to Heicata. “This is not for you to keep. You will hold it only for as long as it takes to learn Healing Water.”

The runic pattern should be evident now that the bowl had been enchanted. A spell like Healing Water needed both qi to reveal the embedded channels and mana for the actual spell. Heicata only had access to mana, but she should be fine with my help… Although, a spell orb would make things more straightforward. Maybe I should run over to the lodge to get one? Or buy one for Ikfael, just for sharing Healing Water?

As I debated internally about the expense, Heicata seemed to set her worries aside and focus her entire being on the bowl in her hands. “I... I think I sense—”

“If this doesn’t work, there are other options, but they’ll take some time,” I told her.

“No, no, just give me a moment.” Then a minute later, Heicata muttered a curse as both the qi and mana faded from the bowl. “Again, if you please.”

So, I enchanted the bowl, but instead of sticking around, I ducked outside to ask Mumu about the cost of a spell orb. The lodge kept a stock of them for instances when hunters found beast spells in the wild.

“We purchase them from the philosophers. They cost us five antaak for ten orbs.” Mumu put her hand on my shoulder. “There is no need to worry about the cost; it will be my gift to Ikfael. Tell her so.”

While Mumu ran to the lodge to retrieve a spell orb, I went back inside the pavilion to refresh the enchantments once again and wait and wait and wait some more until I’d used up the last of my mana. It was another twenty minutes after that when we heard a clap outside.

“It is Mulallamu, returned with the request fulfilled.”

I opened the flap for her to hand me the orb. A quick look showed that it was empty; I’d have to imprint it, which meant waiting for my mana to recover. I really should’ve thought through this process better.

Fortunately, Heicata was engrossed in her own thoughts, her eyes intent. When I handed her the filled orb, she only nodded before sinking her attention into it.

Time passed. I meditated for some, then spent the rest mentally reviewing the tournament’s logistics. I was so engrossed in my thoughts, Heicata startled me when she made a request for water. Then, with my waterskin in hand, she successfully cast the Healing Water spell. She laughed in delight, and Ikfael’s spirit glimmered too. The exchange had been successful.

Afterward, Heicata wanted to reinforce her understanding of the runes and didn’t leave for another hour. When I opened the exit for her, I saw the audience sitting on the ground—eating, drinking, and watching the entertainers who’d come among them.

The crowd rushed to their feet when Heicata’s masked figure emerged from the pavilion. They whispered as she stood proudly before them.

She yelled, “Honored Ikfael has granted my request. The Healing Water spell is within my hands.”

The crowd muttered, and there were a few intrigued gazes among them. A question occurred to me then, something I should’ve wondered earlier but hadn't.

“Why?” I whispered. “If you’re concerned about protecting your identity, why so publicly learn the spell?”

Her eyes on the crowd, Heicata nodded to acknowledge my question. She whispered back, “It’s my revenge.”

“Against the healers?”

She nodded again, and a thread of sorrow revealed itself—only briefly before it was subsumed and buried deeply in her spirit.

“They’ll hate you for this,” I whispered to her.

“Never as much as I hate them.”

40

The Unexpected Entrance

The next morning, the weather turned blustery, and pellet-sized hail fell for a couple of hours after dawn. My team filled up on the pozole I’d made, then bundled up before facing the day.

Our departure for the tournament registration booth was delayed, however, when a sad-faced representative of the alchemists showed up to inform us that someone—ahem, the Healer’s Lodge—had quietly arranged to buy up all the ingredients normally used for the alchemists’ healing poultices and elixirs.

As a result, the alchemists’ inventory would be smaller than expected. They’d, of course, still honor the agreement they’d made with us, but it might require them to repurchase already-sold stock at a higher rate, the expense of which they’d pass along.

There was no budging on that last point either—no matter how much Uncle Kila argued. And we couldn’t use Healing Water to fill the gap, since casting the spell on anyone who wasn’t a member of our lodge was currently illegal. Nor could we count on people looking the other way like in the villages; Albei was the heart of the healers’ activities in the region.

Ikfael could get away with casting the spell, so she was our fallback for anyone more gravely wounded than the alchemists could handle.

Not to be morbid, but Ikfael swooping in to save the day would be badass and increase her prestige. Her being constantly available—well, that would be a different kind of good, up until someone died because she’d run out of mana. There was a decent chance of that happening too, since these tournaments traditionally had a bloody history.

The initial discussions about the tournament’s rules had been eye-opening: When I’d asked how we were going to make participation safe for the contestants, the others told me that determining a true winner required people to be allowed to use all the tools at their disposal, including the deadly ones. Gently, they’d explained how spells and abilities often weren’t safe and didn’t have ways to be made safe.

I’d known that, but had taken it for granted there’d be ways to minimize injuries. That hadn’t just been naiveté either; I’d assumed people would want everyone healthy and strong for the fighting during the Long Dark. What I hadn’t accounted for were religion and history.

Should a hunter not use Spiral Pierce because of the harm it’d do to their opponent? And if the spell was disallowed in the name of safety and someone else won as a result, was that disrespectful to the gods who’d made the spell available? Their gifts were meant to be used on the Path to Perfection, after all.

No, the gods demanded the contestants’ utmost effort. Anything less would dishonor them and all they provided.

That game played at the Court of Earth and Blood, latchtei? Apparently, in the old days, the losing team would sacrifice one of their players and offer the light to the winning team. The practice was a way of demonstrating their determination before the gods.

There’d been times in the past when tournaments like ours were used to focus all the contestants’ light into a single winner. A “sacred sacrifice” they’d called it—thankfully, the practice had fallen out of favor. Over time, people had come to better understand the balance required to defend settlements.

Having a single, powerful defender wasn’t the most efficient strategy, especially if that person consistently attracted powerful creatures. Instead, the light was put to better use spread out among a corps of defenders, people like the land soldiers. These defenders would have just enough light to be useful, but not so much as to draw the attention of the world’s true monsters.

As a result, people these days expected tough-but-honorable contests from tournaments. The fighters might use Spiral Pierce, for example, but they’d aim for a non-lethal injury when possible. It was considered polite—a nice-to-have approach, but not something they must do.

The history lesson had reminded me once again of how life in Diaksha pushed people to make hard, pragmatics decisions. Survival depended on them, but I didn’t want to just survive and certainly didn’t want to be the kind of person who sacrificed others to do so either.

That path had led to Borba.

I argued and argued, and the best I could do for our tournament was to get the others to agree to wooden, blunted weapons and to inform all the contestants beforehand that Ikfael preferred mercy over ruthlessness. She would look poorly upon anyone who used the tournament as an excuse to win their opponent’s light, which apparently was a thing that used to happen too.

Of course, all this was contingent on recruiting contestants for the tournament. The rules we’d drawn up wouldn’t do any good if there was no one to follow them.

So, we were a grumpy bunch trekking to the registration booth, and grumpier still after hearing from the guards Uncle Kila had set to watch the pavilion. Overnight, someone had tried to set it on fire, and the guards suspected the arsonist was Fire-Touched, since the blaze had resisted being put out.

There was a hole in one of the sidewalls about the size of my head, and scorch marks all around it. Maybe if we put something in front of the hole? I thought. We could decorate the platform with weapons and armor.

‘It would be in keeping with the martial theme,’ Yuki replied.

Okay, let’s do it. I hopped down and ran to Mumu so that she could arrange access to the Albei hunters’ storeroom, then came to a skidding halt when I spotted an armed group approaching the booth.

How sad was it that my first reaction was to expect trouble? To put my hands on the hilts of my knives and glance at where I’d left my spear propped up against the lodge. We’d gone days without seeing a single entry for the tournament, so a part of me must’ve assumed that was going to be the way of things.

But no, the five mercenaries, all apparently from Sugrusu Hakei, paid five eltaak each to register. They were cocky as hell about it too, laughing and joking that one of them was sure to win since they were the only entrants so far. I didn’t think they were all that special—the members of my team outclassed every one of them, but then we weren’t participating.

Maybe they were right; maybe they would be the only contestants, though I hoped not. Ikfael’s Boon should go to someone who showed more respect for what was being offered.

The festival was in full swing by the afternoon, with the marketplace taking up an entire third of the plaza and special stages for the city’s more prestigious lodges to show off their skills. Nearby, Albei’s hunters set up an exhibit of trophies from the year’s hunts, while—just within shouting distance—a pair of philosophers yelled at each other from their competing stages. Supposedly, there was an area for diviners on the other side of them, but they were a quieter bunch.

It killed me that I couldn’t go look, and I promised myself that I’d come back for the spring festival and bring my family with me. I’d stuff them full of delicious food and watch as their eyes sparkled at the music and dancing. The thought was a nice distraction from my belly cramping with worry.

At about two in the afternoon, a trio of nathlein teenagers showed up. They were visiting from north of Albei and had heard the gossip. They chatted for a while with Mumu, interested in her skill with the spear, and then signed up for the tournament on a lark.

I thought it was funny—in a sad way—that we still had more hidden watchers than actual entrants. Over the course of the day, the number of observers had increased to twelve.

Just after four o’clock, Haol spotted Makul the Journeyman Healer scurrying in our direction. A soft whistle later, the rest of us were tracking him. The young man had forgone his fashionable leggings and wore his healers’ robes and badge. It was to be official business, then, and we all tensed in anticipation.

Instead of approaching the booth, though, Makul posted near Ikfael’s pavilion, just outside the area controlled by the Hunter’s Lodge. He then folded his arms and scowled, turning his attention toward the gawkers nearby.

We’d gotten enough curious bystanders throughout the day that I’d started feeling like a monkey at the zoo, but the current batch dispersed under the pressure of Makul’s gaze. He exerted a threatening disdain that pushed people away. He also ignored Mumu when she asked him to leave—not even acknowledging her presence.

Makul was legally allowed to be there. So, in retaliation, I borrowed a couple of travois from the lodge and, with Teila’s help, we held them up like sails to block him from view. He aimed his scowl at us, but to my eyes he was a growling puppy, and even Teila scoffed. The healer was no giant eagle, chliapp lion, or kalihchi bear.

At least it was something to do; Teila and I made a game of moving with Makul to block him at every turn.

The sun had gone down, and the braziers were lit. Bihei was on the Yuki phone, telling me about her day and the autumn festival’s counterpart in Voorhei. It was a muted affair this year, with the village mourning the recent deaths, but the children managed to have a good time anyway. They were out at the moment, leading that little gang of village kids of theirs, while Bihei was taking a break from selling the cloth she’d made.

On the other side of the travois, I heard Makul sigh. By then, he’d given up on trying to get around Teila and me and just bided his time. Over by the booth, Haol and Tegen stared out at the crowds with flat expressions—the same look they wore when surveying dangerous prey. Nearby, Mumu and Sheedi whispered with their heads together, while Uncle Kila sat on the platform scribbling in a book, his brow furrowed.

The bodyguards were spread out to keep an eye on the surroundings, and Agath whistled to get our attention. She gestured to the north, where a couple of slim, masked figures walked toward us.

Makul peeked around the travois and tried once again to step into view, but Teila and I automatically moved with him. Then, when he tried to be stubborn about it, he clumsily tripped over one of the poles that just happened to be sticking out. With a touch of Bear’s Strength, I helped him to stand, facing him away from the approaching couple.

They looked like more teenagers—a boy and girl—but the pair wore the most amazing masks: snarling cats both, one silver and the other black. Their clothes were themed as well, with silver and black ribbons stitched to their clothing. The two looked like a matched set of light and shadow, with a puma on one side and a panther on the other.

They walked with the confidence of luchadores, their cloaks billowing behind them. They had too much presence to be youngsters, so I checked with my spirit eyes and saw that they both hid tails under their cloaks. Click. Click.

Goost the Smith (Human, Nisaak, Dusk)

Talents: Fast Hands, Resilient Soul, Metal Affinity, Subsumed Rage

Pleik the Smith (Human, Nisaak)

Talents: Quick When It Counts, Fire Affinity, Blunt-Souled

They were the smiths whose shop I’d visited in the Geista district. Apparently, they’d decided to try their hand at lucha libre.

“Get your hands off me!” came Makul’s voice, but I ignored him.

Pleik was the sister and the puma. Goost was the brother and panther. Both wanted to participate, yet there was confusion among the registrars about how to handle anonymous entries.

“Just use stage names,” I yelled behind me. “We’ll make it work.”

I had never been a big fan of lucha libre—my brother Miguel was the one who’d dragged me to the wrestling bouts I’d attended in my previous life—but that didn’t stop a huge grin from plastering my face. The moment was like a touch of home come to visit.

So, after conferring with each other, Black Iron Panther and The Lustrous Puma entered the tournament. Then, they turned with a flourish of their cloaks and walked away with the same elan as they’d arrived with—followed by a handful of hidden watchers.

Makul was still going on about being manhandled, but it was Agath who had my attention. She looked worried for the luchadores’ wellbeing.

Moon came over to stand by his sister. “They’ll be all right. The clever ones know how to take care of themselves.”

“That’s a truth if there ever was one,” Agath said.

“They were followed,” I said.

Moon nodded, unsurprised. “No doubt, but they will have made arrangements to protect themselves.”

As the evening progressed, the number of hidden watchers increased to sixteen, yet no one else came by to register. We closed the booth at eleven in the evening, and the feeling of the observers’ interest was as pointed as ever, even as they followed us back to the inn.

We had ten entrants. The next day would be the last before the tournament started. Time was running out, and none of us slept well that night.

The next afternoon, my gut was twisted into knots. We’d be fine if the tournament flopped—there was the eilesheile to fall back on to pay the lodge’s debts—but it rankled to have been stymied by the Healer’s Lodge.

Then, things got worse when Vorkut himself showed up to scare people away. That was a piss-poor use of a master healer in my opinion, but he made it blatantly clear that he was not interested in my or any other hunters’ views on the matter. When he saw Teila and me with our travois, he said, “Put those in my face and there’ll be consequences.”

I scoffed. “Like what? You already won’t treat us or our fellow hunters.”

“So far, your village of Voorhei has remained blameless, but if you continue to behave badly, my lodge must consider the possibility they’ve raised you poorly.”

“You’d retaliate against innocent villagers?” I angrily demanded.

“Only if you force us to,” he said.

A team of bodyguards was with him, their spirits sharp and focused. They wore Healer’s Lodge badges too, so they clearly weren’t hired mercenaries.

Based on their talents, his bodyguards were technically part of the family of soldiers, but the badges meant they’d sworn oaths to the healers. It was how people navigated the intricate relationships between path, family, and lodge. Otherwise, it’d be too hard for lodges to get access to trained staff—not just soldiers, but merchants, ranchers, diviners, and all the rest too.

Vorkut's people spread out toward the crowd that had gathered to spectate the booth, yet the looky-loos that day were a hardy bunch, and I spotted several rude gestures among them, including one lady who spat at a bodyguard.

That triggered a confrontation where her family and Vorkut’s guards faced each other down. My own bodyguards tensed, and suddenly everyone else in the crowd had a hand on a weapon—a suspiciously large number of weapons.

Were we about to have a riot on our hands? A staged one that’d both wreck our booth and maybe injure us in the process? I rapidly checked the talents of the people in the crowd, but the majority appeared to be soldiers and hunters.

I was relieved to see my lodge’s own people in the crowd, and they’d clearly allied with the bystander soldiers. Were they here to keep the peace?

Then I heard the drums.

Across the plaza a slow cadence emerged as what sounded like a dozen drums were beaten in time. The sound was faint at first, but then step by step grew louder and deeper. People turned to look; they shifted aside until two columns of dolbecs appeared marching toward us.

They were led by a pair of giants, one carrying a halberd and the other a greatsword, the weapons as enormous as the men themselves. The others behind them were also armed, the variety of their weapons dazzling, and... and... my heart lifted to see every single one of them fully masked in blue and white so that only their eyes were visible. I checked with my Status camera, and—Holy hells, that’s Wusta and Bruta at the fore.

Crunei’s Garden had come to enter the tournament.

Heavy, coiled, alert, fierce—the words running through my head were all inadequate to capture what I saw, what I felt to see so many people arriving to register. They were a blue, martial wave, and even Vorkut’s bodyguards had to step aside under the pressure they exerted.

The columns split to form two contingents, each stacking its members until there were three rows of five on each side. Then, Wusta and Bruta strode toward the booth, where Tegen registered them. His spirit raced, but none of it showed on the hunter's face as he wrote down their stage names: the Blue Sword and the Blue Halberd.

Once they were done, the rest of the dolbecs approached two by two, with every movement disciplined and synchronized. They were all named after their weapons, with “Blue” at the front. And if people wielded the same kind of weapon, they added numbers to their names. For example, Blue Hammer One was a middle-aged woman with a slight limp, while Blue Hammer Two was a man a decade her junior.

I looked for Crost, their Fighting Genius, but there were only seasoned adults present. The children and teenagers appeared to have been left at home.

Registering thirty-two people didn’t take long, given how neatly organized they were, and when it was time to leave, Crunei’s Garden reversed their entry: as the drums beat, the two stacks moved into columns and the dolbecs marched away, their heads held high and proud.

All in all, the sight had been remarkable, and the crowd had appeared just as mesmerized as I’d been.

Some of the hidden watchers began to follow, but they were quickly intercepted by others among their number. I counted three altercations where the followers peaceably backed off, and one full-on skirmish that left both parties in bloody retreat.

Mumu was still dazed by the show put on by Crunei’s Garden. When I brought the hidden conflicts to her attention, she shook her head to clear it, then gazed out at the crowd. “Much of what affects us is out of our control.”

I hated the idea of that but understood it all too well. “Right, we’ve prepared as best we could. The important thing now is that we focus on what we can control.”

Mumu nodded, then she strode over to where the altercation had been brewing earlier. Now that the distraction of Crunei’s Garden was gone, things were again heating up between Vorkut’s bodyguards and the gathered hunters and soldiers.

“Brothers and sisters, friends and enemies—give me your names before you fight,” she called out. “The honored guests who’ve just entered our tournament will want to know who to blame for disturbing their chance at Ikfael’s Boon.”

The crowd hushed instantly. The people then looked at each other, wondering at what they should do, while Vorkut’s bodyguards retreated to seek further instructions from their master. None of them wanted to provoke such a fierce and disciplined force, whether they recognized them as Crunei’s Garden or not.

Mumu had handled the situation perfectly. I was so proud of her.

The crowd settled into an uneasy peace. Vorkut and his bodyguards were on one side, staring balefully at the hunters and mercenaries across from them, who stared just as angrily back. I thought some light entertainment might help ease the tension, but the dancers and musicians were avoiding our part of the plaza. Maybe we can lure some over if we pay them enough?

I took the idea over to Uncle Kila, but before we could put it into action, a group of five individuals slipped out of the crowd. They wore improvised cloth masks, making them look like bandits. They weren’t, though; I could tell from their names, their talents, and even the way their spirits were clear of the blemishes that appeared on people who regularly abused others. My guess was that they were some family’s or lodge’s team of bodyguards.

They glanced furtively at the healers and registered for the tournament as quickly as possible before disappearing back into the crowd. The hidden watchers must’ve marked them as small fry, because none of them were followed.

Steadily, over the course of the next couple of hours, more people in improvised masks appeared, some of them looking like scarecrows with how thoroughly they covered their faces. One fellow looked like he must’ve taken a large pouch and cut a couple of holes in it for his eyes.

By the time the sun was setting, the long shadow of the Hunter’s Lodge stretching across the plaza, we’d had sixty-seven people enter. That was worth only about seventeen antaak in receipts. Yuki did their best to ease my concerns, yet I felt their own worries bubbling under the surface of their thoughts.

A man pointed, and the crowd muttered in surprise. I turned to look behind me and saw Silasenei standing at the edge of the roof of the Hunter’s Lodge, the slanting light glowing saffron on her body. She was stillness itself, except for her hair, which she’d let loose from its braid to dance free in the wind.

All eyes were on her as she suddenly leapt, arcing in a somersault, to land just in front of the booth. She hit the ground with barely a sound, her knees flexing to absorb the energy.

That wasn’t anything like how I’d been trained by my lodge to fall, but the silvered had their own ways apparently.

A sigh of appreciation ran through the crowd. People elbowed each other to make sure their companions had seen what she’d done. And that was when I noticed the ghosts moving through the crowd, converging on our position. No, not ghosts—hunters.

No one else seemed to notice them; what was a little jostling in comparison to Silasenei’s performance? That was, until the hunters revealed themselves in masks of gray, green, and blue. They flowed out of the crowd like water and rushed to take a knee before Silasenei. There were only five of them, but their movements were intentional, precise, and just as threatening as those of Crunei’s Garden. It was just a different kind of fierceness.

They were beautiful, and I was glad to see them, while also disappointed by their number. I felt so conflicted.

Then came the sound of voices singing. The song was familiar too. It was the hymn to Barakas I’d heard in Albei’s pyramid, except sung more full-throated and the melody was different too—fiery and intense. A cadence of stomping boots accompanied the song, and for the second time that day, the crowd split to admit a group of marching soldiers.

They wore masks of blue and white, but had none of the unity of Crunei’s Garden. The Soldier’s Lodge more than made up for it with their zeal, however, and for a disorienting moment, I felt like I was watching footage of a Māori haka, the ceremonial dance of the indigenous people of New Zealand. While the motions and the expressions were different, the spirit was similar.

Twenty-seven warriors lined up in loose rows behind the hunters. Then another seven slipped in among them, moving like hunters. They must’ve been their lodge’s soldier-scouts.

Our allied lodges had arrived. In fewer numbers than I’d estimated—our balance sheet demanded more—but I teared up anyway. And I took such glee in seeing Vorkut glower at the assembled hunters and soldiers.

Surprise then welled up inside me; the source was Yuki though, and I turned in time to see a sudden blast of wind blow through the crowd, followed by Aslishtei and eight members of her family. None of them were masked, and the expression in her eyes absolutely dared Vorkut to say something about it.

A second look told me that only six of them would be entering. The remaining three were the surviving children of the North Wind’s family. Their spirits were... well, a mess, but that was to be expected given their recent losses. They held to the purpose given to them, though, which was to demonstrate to all that the North Wind survived in them. The children seemed well cared for too; I didn’t see any signs of mistreatment or neglect.

Their presence stirred up people in a different way than the previous groups. Rumors swirled through the crowd, whispers of the murdered family and the lodge responsible. It was salacious and ugly and added a different kind of drama to the moment.

I wanted to kick each and every one of those muckrakers in the pants. After what those kids had been through, for them to show up in public like this was incredibly brave. I wished them well. I wished them well. Three times, I wished them well.

Fortunately, another group arrived shortly after to distract the crowd—Iseld and her world speakers. She waved to the assembled spectators as her own people signed up for the tournament, and then chatted briefly with Sheedi before introducing herself to my team. We’d not officially met prior to that moment, and after some small talk, she cornered me to arrange a more-formal meeting later.

I’d been waiting for the invite for a while now, and wondered at the delay. It turned out Iseld wanted to wait for the tournament so that she could get a two-for-one: to talk to both me and Ikfael.

While we chatted, she also quizzed me about the efficacy of the boon, whether it’d been tested yet, the side effects if any, and the chances of her son receiving the boon this year instead of next. The answer to that last question was nil, but I couldn’t blame her for trying. If it was my kid, I’d push too.

Then, a horn blew and dogs barked, echoing across the plaza. I caught sight of the giant beasts dashing, their riders clinging to their saddles. The bystanders scurried to get out of the way, but the nimble dogs avoided them.

From the east, the direction of Albei’s pyramid and Ithia’s fortress, the land soldiers marched.

The fading light glistened on their spears, on their helmets and armor. Their eyes were hard and determined, telling everyone present that they’d come to fight. And none of them were masked.

They were led by three captains—of the gates, of the city, and of the fortress. It was they who stepped forward to register themselves and the land soldiers under them. Altogether, a hundred and twelve land soldiers entered the tournament.

In all the spectacle, I’d forgotten Iseld standing beside me. “Our land knight certainly knows how to make an entrance,” she said.

Embarrassed and ever the wit, I replied, “Yes.”

Then, Sondo the Captain of the Gates marched up to us. He gave Iseld a nod and said, “We hoped Honored Ikfael would be here.”

“Not today, but she will be during the tournament.”

“Good. Her presence will inspire our people to fight harder.” Stiffly, he took a knee to put himself at my eye level. Just as stiff, he said, “I hope you can excuse the treatment you received upon entering our Albei. The disappearance of a land soldier put us on special alert.”

Uh huh, and I’m sure it had nothing to do with the search for a saboteur hiding in the city. But I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself. We were in a good spot with the land soldiers and their leadership now—I wouldn’t risk the relationship over some leftover hard feelings.

“Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves,” I said, “and Honored Ikfael will witness every fighter’s efforts.”

Sondo offered a clipped nod in response and stood to rejoin his people. He was, apparently, a man of few words. Well, no matter, I’d gladly take his people over his words.

Eventually, another twenty-three people found ways to sneakily enter the tournament. Almost all wore impromptu masks emulating the pouch-with-holes scarecrow look seen earlier, but one enterprising fellow pretended to be delivering food. He hid behind the pavilion and pstted me over.

“I wish I’d thought to wear a mask,” he said. “I’ll have to find one for tomorrow.”

His approach was so different than everyone else’s. “What gave you the idea to deliver food?” I asked.

“It just came to me,” he said with a shrug.

I took his money and jotted down his stage name as Domino. As in, the English word. When I asked him about it, he once again shrugged. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Deciding to take a chance, I replied in English, “My favorite pizza topping is pepperoni.”

But he just looked at me with confusion, and I decided that he wasn't another reincarnator, just someone who’d gotten a hold of a weird download from the World Spirit. The connection ran both ways, and I’d already seen several influences from my old world making their way into Diaksha.

The little bit of Diriktot I’d seen had made it clear he enjoyed being a tourist, going to lots of places and meeting lots of people. I’d never ruled out the possibility of him finding others whom he might “gift” with the opportunity to live in this world. Hells, maybe there were people from entirely different worlds than the one I’d come from. With the way the World Spirit worked, it’d be a fast way to seed Diaksha with new ideas.

The gods give gifts with ten hands. Maybe they took with ten hands too?

We shut down the booth at midnight and walked back to the inn. That was when I learned that the hunters who’d registered each represented a team of five. So their five was actually twenty-five, which meant we’d ended the day with a total of two hundred seventy-nine registrants, worth...

I did some quick math, taking into account the Hunter’s Lodge discount, the Kila family cut, and the alchemist’s retainer and estimated fees, and came up with approximately forty antaak. Maybe thirty-five if the injuries were more frequent and/or severe than anticipated.

That wasn’t bad—roughly twenty percent of the lodge’s debt covered thanks to the tournament—and I expected things to only get better and better over the years. We shouldn’t have any problems paying off the full loan from Kila’s family early. And after that, we’d have a terrific income stream.

Assuming nothing went wrong, of course.

41

Here Comes Trouble

The dawn broke clear and bracing cold. My team and I had been working since five in the morning to set up for the tournament’s first day. For me, that meant carrying around a giant skin full of dog piss. The boundaries of the dueling rings apparently had to be drawn using a mixture of sand and urine, so that the fighters might be inspired by the loyal animals’ unwavering bravery.

Anyway, we had two hundred seventy-nine contestants competing for Ikfael’s Boon, and they’d do so in eight rounds of one-on-one elimination matches over the course of a single day. We only had space for twenty dueling rings, so the fighters would have to take turns for the first few rounds. Then we’d break for lunch, giving the competitors time to rest before resuming in the late afternoon.

There were no bleachers, due to interference from the Healer’s Lodge, so spectators would gather around the dueling rings that interested them, which was apparently the norm. According to my team, fighting arenas weren’t really a thing until you got to the big cities.

The matchups were determined randomly, and winning would require both skill at arms and endurance, since it wouldn't be possible to fully heal in between bouts. The fighters were allowed to wear armor, and they’d be using wooden, blunted weapons, but we’d likely still see broken bones, internal bleeding, and who knew what else depending on the talents and spells used.

I hated that someone might die because of an idea of mine, but I’d done what I could to limit the possibility. As I laid a stream of piss down, my belly fluttered with worry. The stakes were so high. Plus, I couldn't help thinking there’d be no way the healers would roll over without a fight.

I stood on the pavilion’s platform and examined the assembled fighters. The count was lower than it’d should’ve been—thirty-seven had fled the field before the contest even began.

Still, most of the participants were brave enough to show up. They smelled of buckskin and steel, of confidence and caution. The fighters were colorful in their masks and in their demeanor. Ostensibly, they watched as Knight Otter beside me signed a blessing, but many quietly focused on those around them—their competition.

Some were measured and found wanting. Others inspired uncertainty, individuals like Wusta and Bruta, the land soldier captains, Aslishtei, and even Goost and Pleik. Each of the scrutinized individuals was surrounded by their people, but they somehow stood alone too, like pillars among the assembled fighters, their presence calling into question the worthiness of one’s path.

I also found one more pillar among them—this one truly alone; no one stood within ten feet of him. He was unmasked too, though he wasn’t a land soldier. No… he wore the healer’s badge.

Ichkadeshtu the Wall (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Unstoppable, Regenerative Biology, Well-Trained, Trained Some More

The healers had inserted an agent into the contest—a soldier with a couple of remarkable talents. If he were a normal competitor, I’d say he’d go far in the tournament, but he wasn’t. Honestly, I didn’t know what kind of trouble he planned for us.

Knight Otter finished her remarks, then launched a waterwork–this one exploding high in the air and misting down in a rainbow of colors. The fighters watched in appreciation, then bowed to honor her.

Beyond them, and all around the event site, a large crowd of festivalgoers had gathered to watch the fights. They also murmured in appreciation at the display of magic, then chattered excitedly as they dispersed after the show to head toward the challenge board, where we’d set up to announce the tournament’s matchups.

In the meantime, Iseld the World Speaker bustled toward the pavilion for a meeting with Ikfael and me. We’d set it up in advance, but now I needed to be elsewhere to warn my teammates about the latest wrinkle from the Healer’s Lodge.

Fortunately, Iseld only had eyes for Ikfael. When I explained the situation, she said, “Another time, then; do what you must.”

And even Knight Otter gestured, “It’s okay. Go.”

I hesitated a moment, peering through the water to the spirit inside, but Ikfael really did seem willing to handle Iseld alone. So, I hopped down to run toward Mumu.

“There’s a competitor from the healers!” I told them.

“We’re aware. Haol spotted him when he arrived.”

“Did we know beforehand?”

“That he was healer-sworn?” Mumu shook her head. “No. As near as we can tell, he was masked like everyone else when he registered. He wore nothing that identified either him or his loyalties. Tegen is checking now to see what we can learn about him.”

“He’s a talented fighter,” I said.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Uncle Kila emerged from the organizer’s tent with a couple of sheets of paper in hand. The fighters made way for him to post them to the challenge board, and the crowd’s chatter increased when they saw the assignments.

As expected, Kila’s family had the day’s logistics well in hand. Other than the opening and closing ceremonies, my team’s role in the proceedings was simply to keep watch for trouble and help if anyone was gravely injured. Healing Water was illegal on anyone who wasn’t a hunter, but three of us knew Nature’s Spring and the rest could do first aid. We figured that should be enough to stabilize the injured long enough to get them to the alchemists.

The bouts themselves were relatively informal, trusting in the honor of the participants. And if that was lacking, then the spectators were sure to call one or both parties out. That was typical behavior at tournaments like ours, and it was one of the things that had reassured me when I’d learned the bouts wouldn’t be refereed.

So, the fighters identified their opponents in the crowd, then walked to the dueling rings to find an open one for their use. Those waiting for a free ring hung around to watch the bouts they were interested in.

Ichkadeshtu, the healer-sworn, was due to fight against one of the nathlein teenagers from the north. The boy joked with his friends in the audience. That faded, however, when he noticed more and more people gathering to spectate his duel.

His spirit revealed that he hoped to make a name for himself. He'd be famous one day, but he wasn’t yet, which meant the people were here to watch his opponent. He’d apparently drawn one of the renowned ones.

Whoever had trained the boy had done their job well—the young warrior focused, bringing his full attention to the bout. He selected a wooden sword for a weapon, but Ichkadeshtu chose to go unarmed.

Then, once the fighters took positions opposite each other and bowed, one of the spectators stepped forward to recite: “Let Barakas witness the strength of our arms and the determination in our hearts. We will fight this day and every day, undaunted.”

The last word was the signal to begin, and the young warrior launched himself at Ichkadeshtu, only for the healer’s soldier to slip aside. In one smooth motion, he let the sword pass where he’d been and snaked his arms up and around the boy’s head. With a brutal twist, he cranked it and smashed it into the ground, then continued the motion as if inflict more harm.

Before I realized what I was doing, I rushed into the circle to kick Ichkadeshtu away, an instinctive Bear’s Strength powering the blow, yet I hit nothing but air. The healer’s soldier had once more stepped aside. But he didn’t do anything else. He just watched me, so I quickly turned to the boy… whose neck had been broken. His skull too, and it bled profusely. I started up my Nature’s Spring, a double cast with Yuki’s help, as the other spectators ran to get the alchemists.

Dimly, I heard people berating Ichkadeshtu, calling his behavior shameful, but he didn’t reply. All I saw of him was his back as he left the ring.

The boy lived, and he’d do so without permanent injury thanks to the elixir he’d been given, but we were off to a rough start, using one of the limited, more-expensive ones. He was in shock though, not understanding how quickly and summarily he’d lost.

Grim-faced, I explained the context to him, and he cursed his bad luck once he’d had a chance to process it. His friends too—they’d gathered worriedly around him and helped to get him walking around.

Thank the gods none of them were stupid. I’d half-expected the youths to swear revenge against Ichkadeshtu, but from what I heard of their muttered plans, the friends planned to concede immediately if they matched up against him.

Afterward, I found Mumu at the organizer’s tent, clustered with Tegen and Uncle Kila. Haol was in eavesdropping range too, but his attention was on observing Ichkadeshtu. At the dueling rings, the next set of fights began, but the healer-sworn wouldn’t fight again until the second round.

“Ichkadeshtu is the grandmaster’s personal guard,” Tegen said. “There’s a team around him, and we’ve spotted them in the audience among the observers.”

“What do we know of him and them?” Mumu asked.

“Not much, as they’re rarely at the walls during the Long Dark. Their focus is on protecting their lodge.”

“Ouch,” I said, “that must be expensive.”

“Indeed,” Tegen replied, “the replacement tax for a full team of dawn soldiers is onerous.”

“My spirit eyes tell me he has remarkable endurance, he heals quickly, and that he’s exceptionally well trained.”

“What about magic?” Mumu asked.

I shook my head, not having scented any during his earlier fight.

“If he belongs to the healers’ grandmaster,” Tegen said, “then we should assume he’s well versed in both qi and mana.”

“We will confirm the truth of that with Agath,” Uncle Kila said. “Ichkadeshtu might be sworn to the healers, but he still belongs to the soldiers. When someone is that strong, it’s almost assured that the others in their lodge will have looked at their spirit map.”

That was probably true. Spirit maps were considered public information, and it was a kind of entertainment to browse through them, like going to the library.

At the Butchery’s market, I’d seen a merchant hawking copies of spirit maps that’d been stitched together into booklets, and her stall had been crowded with customers flipping through them like magazines. Apparently, they were a relatively new phenomenon in Albei’s cultural scene. I had a feeling it was more of my previous world spilling over into this one.

Tegen said, “The assumption is Ichkadeshtu is here to dissuade people from participating in the future, and also to secure Ikfael’s Boon for the healers.”

“He can only win once, though,” Haol said. “The rules deny winners from entering again.”

I replied, “The healers surely have other soldiers to call on. And if not, then they could hire some.”

Mumu shook her head. “Let’s not solve the future’s problem before the one we face today. Is there anything we can do about Ichkadeshtu specifically?”

Uncle Kila pulled at a muttonchop as he considered the situation. “We'll lose the competitors’ trust if we manipulate the fights against him. As it is, he’ll eventually match against a powerful fighter. We’ll just have to pray that it happens in the early rounds before too many people are hurt.”

These people—the healers—were so frustrating.

“I don’t want him to win,” I said. “I don’t want them to win.”

There were mutters of agreement, but we could only watch and hold ourselves ready in case of more trouble. We were constantly forced onto our back feet by the healers, reacting to their moves. The feeling was horrible, and not a good strategy either. If there was one thing I’d learned from Inleio, it was to control the timing and distance of every clash. To get sucked into an enemy’s pace and into their zone of control was to place their claws against my neck.

Ichkadeshtu’s team wandered through the crowd like they were in enemy territory. Our people tracked them, and we weren’t alone in doing so. All the factions participating in the tournament had people trailing them. That was one consolation—if the healers started something, we wouldn’t be alone in responding.

I sat on the pavilion’s platform to keep track of everyone’s movements. Behind me, Knight Otter watched the last of the first round’s duels. The meeting with Iseld had apparently gone well. All she’d done was make small talk and offer a beautiful painting of a waterfall as a gift. Ikfael had asked for a stand to display it inside the pavilion, which had pleased Iseld immensely.

The relationships with our allies were steadily strengthening.

“We need to hit the healers,” I whispered to Knight Otter, “in a way that matters, and that gets them to react to us, but not so hard they feel like they have to remove the threat. Just because the assassins turned out to be Kuros and his friends doesn’t mean the healers couldn’t send some of their own next time.”

Knight Otter caused a small commotion when she got up to come sit beside me. She didn’t do anything other than nod her head, though. The expression on the water sculpture’s face was serious and thoughtful.

In the second round, Ichkadeshtu randomly drew:

Huspet the Breaker (Human)

Talents: Natural Grappler, Well Trained, Gets the Job Done

She was the land soldier who’d escorted me to Ithia’s fortress, and her talents promised to counter Ichkadeshtu, especially since he once again chose to forgo a weapon. A huge crowd gathered around their ring, so I had to worm my way through to be able to see the match.

The two faced each other—Huspet grim but determined, Ichkadeshtu game-faced—and it took a long time for them to bow. Only then did a voice to my left offer the starting prayer.

The crowd held its breath, but Huspet began the fight by circulating her qi and stepping toward the middle of the ring. Then, she waved Ichkadeshtu closer. That won her a small smile from him, and he accepted her invitation.

Once he was in arm’s reach, though, they both moved—their bodies blurring as the qi inside them exploded into action. Back and forth they shifted as each fought to grab hold of the other’s hands, elbows, shoulders, waist—shoving and punching all the while to disrupt their opponent’s flow.

Then, Huspet launched a flurry of low kicks, which Ichkadeshtu half-blocked and half-slid around. The sequence only lasted a handful of seconds, but it had contained more than a dozen attacks and counters. Somehow, at the end, Huspet snaked an arm behind Ichkadeshtu’s shoulder; she grabbed tight, and the kicks turned into knees until she could break his balance. Then she tossed him over her hip.

Ichkadeshtu was thrown with a meaty thump. She’d aimed to slam him into the ground headfirst, but he’d tucked in time to let his back take the fall. Before he could react further, she twisted his arm around, forcing him onto his belly, and then she struck his elbow.

For the first time, I sensed mana from Ichkadeshtu, and the elbow didn’t shatter. If anything, he accepted the strike and used it to flip himself onto his back again. His legs sprang up to capture Huspet’s torso, and the two of them were on the ground rolling, fighting for leverage and control. To me it looked like a disorganized mess, but then I’d never trained to wrestle people.

Ultimately, Huspet found a way to get her opponent flipped over again. She rode his back, got his elbows over her knees, and wove her hands forward to clasp his chin, hauling with all her might. Ichkadeshtu’s spine bent like a bow. No matter how hard she pulled, though, his bones refused to break. Huspet’s qi shifted; she switched from speed to strength, and then his spine cracked—the awful sound sending shivers through me.

The audience gasped, and I thought the fight was over, but Huspet continued to pull at Ichkadeshtu like she wanted to fold him in half. And he continued to struggle, which I didn’t understand at all. The way the fight was going, he should be in danger of being paralyzed, if not already, but instead he slipped his right arm free, using the escape to twist—No, your spine, I thought—and slam a palm against Huspet’s chest. Mana flashed, and suddenly she was gasping like she’d been sprinting. Like she couldn’t get enough oxygen.

Still, she fought to get Ichkadeshtu back under control, but he was fast and slipped free, using the opportunity to get back to standing. Huspet did the same, and they faced off once more, except whatever spell he’d cast was clearly still affecting her.

If she wanted any hope of winning the bout, she had to finish it quickly. She used her speed spell again to dash in, but stopped halfway when, with a grunt, Ichkadeshtu straightened his spine. There was the sense of something—not qi or mana—and he could suddenly breathe easier. He smiled then, gave an acknowledging nod to Huspet, and stepped forward to resume the fight.

But she backed off, shaking her head. Speaking was a struggle, but she got out: “I concede,” repeating the words in Signed Diaksh at the same time.

Ichkadeshtu had the gall to look disappointed. He gave a sort of helpless shrug, then bowed and walked out of the ring—no doubt to register his win. Huspet still couldn’t breathe, though, and the land soldiers who’d been watching the bout got in his way, demanding he release the spell.

Huspet’s lips were turning blue by that point, and it continued even after I ran up to cast Nature’s Spring. That was when Ichkadeshtu’s team showed up, and it seemed an altercation was inevitable.

With Bear’s Strength-powered lungs, I yelled, “Honored Ikfael!”

That caused everyone to pause, which in turn gave Knight Otter time to make her way over. She’d been watching the bout and was ready for me to call for help.

The crowd parted for Knight Otter, and the look of disdain she cast toward Ichkadeshtu was Oscar-worthy—not that it wasn’t genuine, but to be able to sculpt it out of water was... well, it spoke eloquently of both her talent and the intense practice that had gone into refining her skills in manipulating water.

By that point, Huspet was bent over, hands on her knees and struggling to stay upright. Knight Otter came over to examine her, and I quickly reported, “A spell was cast on her that seems to restrict the lungs.”

Dramatically, Knight Otter turned to Ichkadeshtu. “Release the spell. It is my honor you are staining, since this place is meant to be a test of skill and courage—a way to prove one’s worthiness for my boon. You have already won this match, but you are proving yourself most unworthy.”

Ichkadeshtu hesitated, and I caught him glancing toward his team. They were all dawn, though, and gave away little to my spirit eyes. Still, they came to a wordless agreement, and he bowed, speaking for the first time, “It will be as you say.”

He walked over to Huspet to put a hand on her back. There was a surge of mana, and then suddenly she took a huge, relieved inhale—followed by a series of them, one after the other.

Ichkadeshtu bowed to Knight Otter and left. Meanwhile, Huspet got herself under control before she too gave Knight Otter a bow, one much deeper and more heartfelt than the healer-sworn’s.

“My thanks to you, Honored Ikfael.”

Knight Otter accepted the words with grace. She appeared to look around to see if there was anything else to be done, and—as if the idea suddenly came to her—she signed, “The Path to Perfection is fraught with danger. Risks abound at every turn, and it is easy to lose your way. Too often, the result is injury or death before you can find your way back to the path. So, in honor of this tournament and the purpose behind it, I will make my Healing Water spell available to all who ask, reducing the exchange requirements so that anyone intent on truly pursuing their Path to Perfection may have better opportunities to survive it.”

The crowd muttered, as the people in the back asked those in front what had been said. Seeing her words repeated, Knight Otter returned to her pavilion, walking slowly so that she could linger in people’s eyes a while longer.

Well, we’d cast our rock back at the healers—not that we expected anyone to take Ikfael up on the offer. There might be a few people with special circumstances, like Heicata from Voorsowen, but most people wouldn’t be willing to risk exile. Still, the gesture let the healers know we had a nuclear option available in making the spell more widely known. Ikfael could, after all, give it away effectively free—handing out spell orbs to every lodge in Albei. All it’d take was an exchange on my part to trigger it.

We weren’t quite there yet. And hopefully we wouldn’t ever be. I mean, I’d love to see Healing Water in every library, but... how did the saying go? In the game of nuclear war, the best way to win was not to play.

Still, we weren’t going to let the healers kick us around. If they wanted trouble, we’d give it to them. We just had to be smart about it.

The organizers had once again gathered to discuss Ichkadeshtu when Haol dropped his own bomb: “He's not the only one. You’ve all been focusing on him, so you haven’t noticed, but all the factions are doing it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Take, for example, the land soldiers. They spar when matched up against each other, competing just hard enough to determine who’s the better fighter. But if their bout is with someone from another faction, they expend themselves recklessly, holding nothing back. They’ve also conceded when faced with their leaders, which means that none of the captains have fought a single time yet.”

“Ah,” Tegen said. “The common land soldiers know they won’t win the tournament, and forcing the other factions to fight harder improves the odds for one of their captains to take the prize.”

As the implications sank in, it became clear why the land soldiers had entered so many of their people into the tournament. I’d assumed it was a gesture of support, or that the captains thought the tournament would be a good learning opportunity for their people. But, well, that turned out to be naïve, didn’t it?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter where you went, or even what world you were in, people would find a way to game the system. The same was also true for Crunei’s Garden and Aslishtei, for that matter. They had also registered people for the tournament who didn’t have a chance of winning.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“The primary goal appears to be to exhaust their opponents, but the alchemists are seeing more injuries than expected—nothing like what Ichkadeshtu did, but it’s obvious many fighters aren’t holding back.”

“Nothing crippling?” Mumu asked.

Haol shook his head. “That’s only been Ichkadeshtu so far.”

“I’m going to make the case to Ikfael to exclude the Healer’s Lodge in the future,” I said. “Their efforts to stymie the tournament warrant it, and I don’t think she’ll disagree.” I scratched my head, thinking. “We should also consider referees for every bout to make sure people don’t go too far. I don’t know who we’d recruit, though, unless they were also masked.”

Uncle Kila had been listening to the discussion, jotting down notes, and I saw him nod at the idea. Given how well his family had been handling the tournament’s logistics so far, I felt I could trust them to make it happen.

Two fighters pulled out of the tournament before the third round. I wasn’t there to see it happen, but they’d apparently won their matches and then chosen not to proceed. Neither explained why, but we suspected it was because of the threat posed by Ichkadeshtu.

His opponent in the third round was another land soldier. The poor man’s name was Claad, and the expression on his face made him look like he faced the gallows. Which to be fair wasn’t too far from the truth. Anything could happen during a fight, and none of the alchemists’ potions or elixirs were able to bring someone back from the dead.

Claad chose the spear for his weapon, and once the bout began, he did everything in his power to keep the unarmed Ichkadeshtu at bay.

At first glance, his actions seemed cowardly, but the longer he fought, the better he looked. His handling of the weapon wasn’t as technically good as Mumu’s, but his tactical decision making from moment to moment was excellent.

Whenever Ichkadeshtu slid past a thrust to close the distance, Claad repositioned the spear and used it like a staff to bat him away. In fact, every part of the spear was put to work to create openings and then close them again—luring his opponent in then pushing him to force him toward the boundary and out of the ring.

Except, Ichkadeshtu always managed to stay in, either by slipping past the attacks or by taking the hits, the latter of which Claad punished mercilessly by casting the soldier equivalent of the Ram’s Head spell.

Whatever Ichkadeshtu used to reinforce his body, however, it didn’t hold in those moments, and the meaty thumps were accompanied by the sound of breaking ribs. Yet he never stopped moving, and all it took was a moment’s breath for his deformed chest to fill out again.

The frustration in Claad’s eyes was shared by others in the crowd, and the disappointment only increased when it became obvious the land soldier was finally out of qi. Over time, his steps became heavier, and sweat poured down his face. Ichkadeshtu, on the other hand, appeared winded but fine.

At the end, Claad simply took a step back, saw that there was nothing more to gain, and said, “I concede.”

Some in the audience made dismissive remarks, but I spotted the land soldiers among them nodding at his decision. In their eyes, he’d made the right call, and I agreed. If nothing else, Claad had frustrated the healers’ plan to disrupt the tournament, which obviously annoyed Ichkadeshtu—he stomped off to register the win.

Meanwhile, Claad leaned on his spear and accepted the congratulations of his team. For good reason too; he’d fought beautifully and come out unscathed. Honestly, I felt like I’d learned a lot from the bout, and I revised my opinion of Claad’s spear.

The amazing thing was that his talents were good but unexceptional.

Claad of Arvooren (Human)

Talents: Stalwart, Thoughtful in a Pinch, Well-Trained

It proved to me that talents weren’t everything. They helped tremendously—I’d be lying if I said otherwise—but people could excel without them.

42

Here Comes Trouble II

Lunch was duck stew with a vinegary green sauce; I scarfed the bowl down more quickly than it deserved. With the fourth round starting shortly, the field had been winnowed—there were only twenty-nine fighters left in the competition—and my help was needed to refresh the rings. I practically threw the bowl to a servant from Uncle Kila’s household before jumping back to work.

As I laid down new lines of sand and dog piss, I couldn’t help thinking that the next set of bouts should make for an amazing show, no matter what Ichkadeshtu would try to do. The news was out, and people now knew that if they couldn’t win against him, they could just tax his resources, then concede.

Assuming they were willing to concede, of course. The tournament’s big hitters all looked determined to win—each had claimed a section of the plaza for themselves and their people, and they sat listening intently to reports on their opponents’ battles so far.

Glancing over at Ichkadeshtu, I saw that he’d managed to eat several bowls of stew, along with a platter of assorted roasted vegetables and meats his team had acquired from the festival market. That regeneration of his didn’t come free, then; he had to pay for it, at least partially with food. The rest was likely... body power? I hadn’t scented any qi or mana any of the times he’d healed himself.

I would’ve thought he’d try to hide the nature of his healing ability from his opponents, unless he was supremely confident in winning... or... or... I was overthinking things. The other competitors might already know or suspect how his talents worked even if I didn’t. Magic operated along certain principles, after all. So did talents, and both were part of the same System, following the World Spirit’s rules.

While my Talent Scout didn’t cost anything, it was reasonable to assume that something as resource intensive as regeneration would, in which case those resources would need to be replaced. The people of this world would treat that understanding as common knowledge.

As far I knew, only Soul Marks broke the rules. Or, more accurately, they affected how the rules were applied. I planned to ask Ikfael later to confirm my reasoning, but my gut told me I was probably right.

My mind had gone wandering again, and Yuki gave me a gentle squeeze to let me know it was okay—I was almost done laying down the lines. Uncle Kila’s crew hovered nearby, since they would take care of putting the piss and handcart full of sand away.

The fourth-round bouts had yet to start, and I anxiously awaited the match between Ichkadeshtu and Shasnasa the Fortress Captain. The land soldier was responsible for Ithia’s fortress during the Long Dark, and his talents leaned heavily toward defense. It promised to be a doozy of a battle.

Unfortunately, Teila came running up to me before they could begin. She surreptitiously signed, “Danger, danger,” letting me know I was needed at the pavilion.

My heart leapt into my throat—my first thought was that something had happened to Ikfael—but the pace of Teila’s approach, her posture, and even the way her anger slithered around her spirit kept me from launching myself at the pavilion.

“What happened?” I signed.

“Someone is here to speak with Ikfael,” Teila said, and with her hands, she added, “Vorkut.”

So, we’d thrown a rock at the healers, and they were... what? Throwing one back?

They couldn’t go after Ikfael; I was sure of that. Between Ithia and Iseld, she had the necessary backing to resist anything the healers might send at her. Unless they really went all out and threatened to deny their services to those factions too, but I couldn’t see them doing that—not when both were critical to the city’s survival. Even the other lodges would object to the crippling of their respective institutions.

It had to be something else, but what?

I hurried after Teila, my guts clenching and my blood boiling. It was like I was split in two—one half worried about what the healers would do next, while the other was incensed by how they’d continually treated us.

My team waited outside the pavilion. Mirrored opposite them were Vorkut’s bodyguards. The two sets of faces were stoic, but I saw the tension threading between them. All had their hands on their weapons.

Mumu’s eyes stayed on the healers’ people even as she instructed Teila to take up a position behind the rest of the team. But to me, she said, “Ikfael is waiting for you inside. Vorkut is with her. He asked for a private exchange, but you can attend since you’re her shrine’s keeper.”

Right. I straightened my gear, then ran my hand through my hair before patting it back down again. I took a steadying breath to firm my determination, and strode up the stairs to pull aside the flap aside.

Vorkut sat on my cushion, off to the side so that he could watch the entrance and Knight Otter at the same time. His expression was composed, giving nothing away, and the same held true for Knight Otter, her face as still as moonlight.

The tableau broke at my arrival—Knight Otter gestured for me to sit, while Vorkut raised an eyebrow.

“Can we begin now?” he asked.

I stole the healer’s idea and moved one of the supplicant cushions so that I could face him while still keeping the entrance in sight too. A quick glance showed Ikfael’s spirit inside the water sculpture, glaring at Vorkut. She nodded to let me know she was ready.

And I blanked. All the thoughts flew out of my head—the scenarios brainstormed with my team, the plans in response, and even the fantasies for making the healers pay for their treatment of us. They were all gone.

The problem was that everything we thought we knew about the healers and their intentions depended on assumptions. Whatever step I took forward, it’d automatically be on shaky ground.

I mean, I knew what they wanted—to restrict Healing Water—but why had they gone to the lengths they did. Was it just greed? The hoarding of power? The protection of the status quo?

The moment drew out long enough for Vorkut’s eyebrow to rise again. Even Ikfael turned to look worriedly at me.

“Are we playing waiting games?” the master healer asked. “Is that what is happening?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just realized that I don’t know what you really want.”

“That doesn’t matter. And what you want doesn’t matter,” Vorkut said, chopping with his hand to emphasize the words. “I am here to make an exchange with Ikfael. There are rules to be followed, traditions to be respected, and you will stop interfering in the sacred duties of those you serve.”

That last bit had gotten a little heated. Perhaps the master healer isn’t as composed as he pretends to be?

The tournament was already a modest success, and the signs were clear that it’d be even more successful in the future. Their agent had been mostly neutralized, and we’d do our best to filter out that kind of influence in the future. Sure, they’d try to get around those barriers, but we’d continue to come up with ways to stop them.

So far, all their gambits had failed. Despite all the pressure they’d applied, our Hunter’s Lodge had held firm. More than that, we had Knight Ithia nominally on our side. There was a decent chance she’d rule that the Healing Water spell could stay with the hunters, especially since the spell had originally come from a spirit of the land.

Ah, I’d been so reactive, I’d neglected to see the game from their side—the pressure they must’ve been feeling. Healing Water wasn’t a cure-all, but it could fill the need for the most-frequent injuries and poisons. And we’d been stymying their efforts to contain us. It must’ve felt like trying to swat a bee and getting stung over and over, all the while the damn thing refused to die.

All right, then, let’s bring them out into the open. “So what do you want?” I asked.

Vorkut straightened up, and responded directly to Knight Otter. “Two things: The first is that I ask for permission for your Healing Water spell to be learned by those of my lodge. We have other spells with similar effects, but none are so compact. Our philosophers admire its artful creation, and in exchange we offer”—he reached into his pouch to take out a pearl the size of a small onion. Its surface shimmered, and I suddenly felt like I’d been submerged in a deep pool of water—“a transcendent ocean pearl.”

Inside Knight Otter, Ikfael alternated her gaze between the pearl and master healer. I saw her desire but also her distaste.

“What’s the second request?” I asked.

But Vorkut shook his head. “My preference is to treat these requests separately.”

“What if we insisted?” I asked.

“Then I’ll hold to the exchange I’ve already offered, and someone else from the lodge will make the second on their own. Must we really waste time like that?”

Outside, the crowd roared. The bouts must’ve been well under way by now, but I put them out of mind for the time being—I had my own duel to worry about.

Vorkut gazed at me steadily. “Well?”

I made the gesture for, “Wait, thinking.”

- Okay, so the benefits of sharing Healing Water with Vorkut’s lodge were:

- More people would be spared from their injuries.

- Ikfael’s reputation for being benevolent would increase, which should strengthen the case for Healing Water’s further spread.

- And, of course, there was the pearl as well as the shoring up of Ikfael’s battered spirit.

On the other hand:

- We’d be reinforcing the status of the Healer’s Lodge and the idea that they were the preeminent source of healing.

- That in turn might damage the hunters’ case, as well as the demand for our allies’, the alchemists, goods.

Could we also exchange Healing Water with the alchemists? If they had a way to stabilize the spell, they could sell it as a potion. I didn’t know if that was feasible, but if so, that’d negate some of the reputational impacts and also create opportunities for the alchemists, especially if the reagents for stabilizing the spell weren’t as rare or expensive as regular healing potions.

Gods, but it was an intriguing idea. And another source of exchange for Ikfael.

Knight Otter seemed to seriously consider the offer, her hand stroking her chin, but when she looked up at Vorkut, she signed, “Go wait outside.”

The master healer blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Outside. Since this decision impacts others I’ve already made, I wish time to consider it.”

“But—”

“It won’t be long.”

Vorkut looked between Knight Otter and me, the confusion giving way to something murkier and difficult to read. He got up as requested, though, and left the pavilion.

As soon as he was out of sight, Knight Otter signed, “What do you think?”

“We should assume people can see our signed conversation,” I replied.

“That can’t be helped. Share only what is safe.”

“Or we could ask Vorkut to wait longer, until after the tournament and we’ve had to time to talk in true privacy.”

Knight Otter gestured, “The tournament’s outcome is uncertain. We may be stronger at the end, or they might. This exchange is their insurance in case things go poorly for them. If we wait, the opportunity may not come again.”

“We don’t know that, not for certain.”

“True, but opportunities can’t always wait for certainty.”

“Is the pearl that valuable?” I asked.

“My affinity for water is strong, but meditating on the pearl would strengthen it even more.”

“Oh, that is nice,” I said, wondering if that was possible for lightning too.

Knight Otter reached over to tap me on the knee. “I know what you are thinking, but focus on the present. Now, your thoughts?”

So, I shared what I considered to be the likely gains and losses from the exchange. Knight Otter nodded along as I signed, and her eyes lit up when I got to the part about the alchemists. Like, seriously, the water sculpture’s eyes lit up, as if she were a real, living being. It was a masterful touch.

“I’m inclined to accept the terms,” Knight Otter signed.

“Is the pearl enough, though?”

“What else would you have us ask for?”

“Something with stone affinity.”

She sat back, surprised. “You wish for me to be ambitious.”

“If you can get it, get it.”

“I told everyone I’d ease the requirements for teaching the spell during the tournament.”

“True, but in this case it’s whole lodges who will be learning it, as well as teaching it to every mana-capable healer who joins in the future. The exchange will affect thousands of people over time—the healers and their patients.”

“You're right, there is an imbalance in the terms. I will do as you suggest.”

“Great. Then, finally, can we make acceptance contingent on hearing the terms of the second exchange?

“That’s not done. Each exchange is a discrete and binding agreement.”

“That’s a magical or spiritual thing?”

“Yes,” she signed.

I leaned in, waiting for further clarification, but Knight Otter quirked her head as if to say that she’d already shared enough.

“You’re sure about this?” I asked.

But Knight Otter shrugged, and signed, “Surety is an illusion.”

So, I got up to call Vorkut back inside. He stood at the front of the platform, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at where most of the spectators were clustered—where Ichkadeshtu fought. I couldn’t make out the details, but from the way the crowd hung on what they were witnessing, the matchup was a close one.

“We’re ready for you,” I said.

Vorkut turned to follow me back inside. Whatever he thought about being forced to wait, he kept to himself.

“How’s it going out there?” I asked despite myself. I couldn’t help wondering.

The question surprised him. “Tolerably well. The city is blessed with strong defenders.”

“Good,” I said, sitting down. “A strong Albei benefits everyone.”

“That it does,” he said, making himself comfortable. Then he looked to Knight Otter. “Have you made your decision?”

The spell orb containing Healing Water appeared in the sculpture’s hand, and she gave it to me to hold for her. “That is the spell you desire, but the terms of the exchange are imbalanced—the long-term benefits outweighed by what you’ve offered.”

Vorkut started to object, but Knight Otter stopped him with a gesture. “This is not a negotiation. We are not haggling.”

“Of course, I understand. What is it you want in exchange, then?”

“The water pearl you offered, as well as something of equal power with stone affinity.”

Vorkut’s impassive gaze turned from Knight Otter to me, and he held it there for a long moment, just looking at me, as if to blame me personally for this turn of events.

“I wonder,” he said finally, “how such a young child could afford such an expensive exchange? If we are speaking of long-term impacts, then he has had his own.”

I stared back. “Don’t you know? Every exchange is a discrete agreement, separate from any that come before and after it.”

And by gods, the man frowned. That impassive face of his gave way to the emotion within him. “You are a menace.”

Oh, how my blood boiled then. I’d been doing well to keep my anger under wraps, but in that moment I wanted to punch him so bad. Yet that wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be. I’d left that version of Ollie behind, even before this new life of mine had begun.

Only I got to decide who I was and what I’d do. Me, and not anyone else.

So, I leaned back and took a breath. “The deal you’re making is with Honored Ikfael. My suggestion is that you focus your efforts there.”

The frown disappeared as if it’d been an illusion. He turned toward Knight Otter. “My lodge accedes to the terms of this exchange. However, time will be needed to find an item with a suitable level of stone affinity.”

She signed, “That is understandable, and the spell will be given to you after it’s been acquired.”

“Then we have a deal,” he said, and sighed.

“We do. Now, what is the second exchange?” she asked.

“Cease teaching Healing Water to anyone else.” This time, I started to object, but he held up a hand to stop me. “No, hear me out. Don’t teach anyone else the spell. Instead, rely on our lodge to be the agents of your beneficence. We will assign two healers to you—a journeyman and apprentice—to do with as you will. When they pass, they will be replaced by others. For generation after generation, the members of our lodge will serve you.”

He paused to let the idea sink in before continuing: “We will also pay the debts of the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge, whom you are so fond of, and fully accept your shrine keeper into our lodge without forcing him to leave the hunters. That will require agreement from his present grandmaster, but if she agrees, your Eight will have access to both lodges, fully and unreservedly.”

“All those who already know the spell may continue to use it, but there will be no one else. Heicata of Voorsowen will be the last.” And with that Vorkut sat back, as if he’d won and it was only a matter of time before his opponent recognized their loss.

My jaw dropped. “I’d be able to learn your spells?”

With a certain smugness, he said, “Yes.”

“Including the ones that treat diseases of the body?”

“With enough contributions to the lodge, also yes.”

I let out a shuddering breath. It was like I’d lost control of my body and thoughts, as the implications rolled through me.

Cancer. I’d never have to lose anyone to cancer again.

The idea wouldn’t let me go, but Yuki was there to counterbalance it. ‘We’d just have to let everyone else who would’ve been saved by Healing Water die instead.’

The healers—

‘Aren’t everywhere, and the poor can’t afford them.’

But if I’m inside their lodge, I can work to reform them.

‘Maybe.’ Yuki hesitated. ‘It’s true we’ve been making progress with our Hunter’s Lodge.’

A spark lit within me of hope, excitement, and longing. If we could change the healers and their policies, we can make an even bigger difference than with just one spell.

‘Only if we have allies within their lodge, people who’ll listen. There’s no one like Mumu among them. We’d be going in as enemies. How much time and effort would it take? Could we even remain in Voorhei? The Glen?’

Reluctantly, I admitted, It’d be... it’d be a full-time job.

‘And there’d be no guarantee we’d succeed.’

The spark within me slowly faded. No.

‘Meanwhile, villagers and city folk would die of their injuries because the healers couldn’t get to them in time or were too expensive.’

It’s worse than that, I thought with a grimace. The healers could dangle the spells I want like prizes, getting me to chase them, to do their bidding. I don’t think I’d cave, but they’d do their best to sway me to their side. Years, decades of them trying to wear me down.

‘Oh, Ollie/Eight.’

My hands clenched, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I have to say no. I’ll regret it, I know I will, but I need to refuse. Gods, but I hate this so much. Will it be Aluali who gets cancer, do you think? Or Billisha who dies needlessly giving birth? Or any of my family when the next virus sweeps through the village? Because that’s the cost. That’s what we’ll lose.

‘Is death the end?’ Yuki asked, knowing damn well the answer.

No, I replied with sigh. It’s not. And how we live is more important than when we die.

‘So?’

I really do hate this, but then we should’ve expected the healers to come up with an offer impossible to refuse.

‘Except we are.’

Yes. We are.

I looked up to find Vorkut watching me. Knight Otter reached over to wipe the tear from my face, then she placed a comforting hand on my arm. They both knew I was the key to this decision. This exchange was aimed at benefiting me and my family, both those I’d adopted and my lodge.

Oh, I supposed that by me growing stronger and more flexible in my spellcasting, I’d also be of more help to Ikfael as her shrine keeper, but this was effectively a bribe to get me on the healers’ side, then use my influence to win Ikfael over with me.

And I couldn’t fault them for it. The deal was a good one, and if I hadn’t had Yuki to talk sense into me, I might’ve... I might’ve really gone for it.

“No, thank you.” The words came out thready and whisper-like, so I cleared my throat and said more clearly, “No, thank you. Not for me. Don’t do this for me. I’m okay where I am.”

Knight Otter nodded, and more importantly inside the water sculpture, I saw Ikfael’s approving gaze. She understood the implications and agreed with them.

Vorkut slapped his thigh in anger. “This is foolishness.”

“Perhaps, but I have to stick to my principles.”

“And what are they? Greed, barbarism, chaos.” Vorkut shook his head in disgust. Whatever mask he’d been wearing before, he’d given it up.

“Is that what it looks like to you?”

“That is what it is,” he said firmly, “and no savage, no wild child will tell me otherwise.”

“I—”

Knight Otter slapped her hands together to stop our argument. “I value the wisdom of my shrine keeper, but the decision is mine and mine alone. And it is me, me who refuses. Do you understand, master healer?”

Vorkut gritted his teeth. “What if—”

Knight Otter cut him off: “Your goal from this exchange runs counter to my intentions for the peoples of Voorhei and Albei. For me to accept it, your lodge would have to become more open and freer with its services.”

“The healers have a long and storied history of service to the people of Albei.” Vorkut snorted, then seemed to recall himself. He got his face and posture under control. “You should not let yourself be swayed by the deranged imagination of a wild child.”

Knight Otter’s expression turned cold—so cold—as she said, “My fate is my own. What I give, I give willingly. What I take is mine fairly. My exchanges are balanced, and that includes my dealings with my shrine keeper.”

She reached into her chest to pull out the spear Bearbane and placed it beside her. Vorkut watched fascinated, but that turned to alarm when he realized the spirit of the land had armed herself.

Knight Otter signed, “The world speakers assigned my keeper, but it was my decision to accept Eight. His vision aligns with mine. His principles, mine.” Her gestures became more forceful, vehement. “I am not a leaf on the water, I am the river itself. Not the stone rolling down the hill, I am the ground upon which it rolls. Nothing sways me but that which I allow. Cross me, and you shall see how the river rages. Harm what is mine, and the earth itself will swallow you whole.” Her hands stilled, and for a moment it felt like the whole world was in that pavilion, paying attention. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Abundantly.”

“Our first exchange holds true. The second is denied, unless the healers change their stance.”

Anger leaked from Vorkut’s spirit. Some dismay too. Then, the master healer nodded slightly to acknowledge the decision; he wouldn’t bend any further than that. “I will report to my grandmaster. We will find what we owe, but you need to understand… People need laws and boundaries. Without them, they are... Well, I see your firm resolve. A discussion of the nature of humanity won’t do any good. It hardly ever does. I… I’d best take my leave."

For the first time, I saw Vorkut look tired. He didn’t have any issues standing, but he seemed to be carrying some invisible burden. At the exit, he paused as if to say something, but then he walked out.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Knight Otter, bowing.

She nodded to me, to acknowledge my gratitude. A beat later, she reached over once more to put a comforting hand on my arm. From within the cool water, I felt her warm paw.

‘Ikfael is so badass,’ Yuki thought.

She is. And so are you, my dear friend.

If Yuki could’ve blushed, they would’ve, and they reflected back my care and affection.

I was comforted by two dear friends, because they’d both sensed the despondency I had been doing my best to bury. We’d won, but I couldn’t help thinking about what I'd lost by doing so.

43

The Tournament Continues

Ichkadeshtu had won his match. When I asked about it afterward, Uncle Kila shook his head and said, “The battle was fierce, but the victor never in question.”

With an effort, I shook off thoughts of the meeting with Vorkut and focused on the tournament’s remaining logistics. After all, the healers still had an agent in play who could spoil it for us.

The fifth round was one with an odd number of competitors. The way we’d been handling that was by randomly selecting a fighter for a pass to the next round. This time, it ended up being Ichkadeshtu, and I honestly couldn’t figure out if that was the universe being fair or unfair. Like, why should an ass like him get a free ride? At the same time, it gave me the chance to see the other fighters in action.

Aslishtei was still in the competition, so I searched out her next bout. She’d drawn a masked hunter from Albei, but thanks to my Status camera, I saw the dawn combatant was named Shiakotei.

The fight started with him immediately disappearing into Camouflage, but Aslishtei brought out Little Red. With the summons in play, she knew exactly where the hunter was. Then, she called her cutter hawks into the fight, and every alarm in my head went off. She’d effectively brought a couple dozen knives to a club fight, and the threat of the hawks was enough to drive Shiakotei to the edge of the ring. They kept him there while Aslishtei summoned her giant snake next.

The combination stymied Shiakotei. He apparently didn’t have access to mana magic, so the lodge’s spells affecting multiple enemies were out of his reach. Still, he excelled at the spear, and once he switched from Camouflage to Dog’s Agility, he avoided both the hawks and snake. He whittled away at them, but none of his targets cared how much they were injured. They fought relentlessly at the behest of their summoner.

Then, for the first time, I saw Aslishtei cast a spell on herself—a speed one—and she rocketed forward, the cutter hawks and snake seamlessly parting to make room for her to kick Shiakotei and break his balance. She took a short step, then caught his left arm with a hoop, twisting it around to keep him off center. At which point, he could no longer defend himself from the snake. It began the process of wrapping him up, and he conceded.

Aslishtei wasn’t just a spellcaster. Although her martial arts skills weren’t as good as the others I’d seen, they were obviously effective enough.

After the bout, I realized that I had put her in a box—one based on preconceived notions of mages from my previous life. Just because someone focused their path on spellcraft didn’t mean they were automatically squishy. I’d known that intellectually, but she helped bring the point home.

I looked around to see if anyone else was fighting and ran over to catch the tail end of a match between Sondo and a member of Crunei’s Garden named Omtu. Both were breathing hard as the wooden swords they wielded clacked and slid against each other. Omtu’s weapon was bigger and weightier, and he had a massive advantage in reach, yet Sondo somehow kept up. He was slippery in a way that went beyond skill.

I reminded myself of his talents—

Sondo the Captain of the Gates (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Let’s Get Physical, Body Talk, Handles You Right

—and nope, their names were of no obvious help in understanding what was happening under the hood.

Omtu was very much on the offensive—his sword dove at Sondo, his fists lashed out, and his kicks swept low—but Sondo stayed just ahead, deflecting only as much as necessary to conserve his strength and stamina. Then, when it seemed he was out of space to dance out of the way of getting swatted, Sondo’s sword threaded between Omtu’s arm and weapon. He hooked the elbow then, using his sword as a lever, he tossed the dolbec into a tumble and right out of the ring.

I stopped to consider if I’d seen that right. Sondo had manhandled an unwilling dolbec, and he’d made it look smooth, like Omtu’s trajectory had been oiled in advance. Was that Handles You Right at work? Maybe in synergy with his other talents?

That was one of the things I’d noticed through my investigation of talents—the more obscure the name, the more subtle or complicated the effects. Then, if you got a bunch of obscure talents together, almost anything was possible.

Effectively, each of these bouts required the fighters to find ways to counter their opponent’s training, skills, magics, and talents, some of which created potent combinations. Like, for example, Ichkadeshtu.

It made me wonder how I’d have done in the tournament, and even with everything happening with the Healer’s Lodge, I couldn’t help daydreaming. No doubt I’d have made a stuttering mess of things as I figured out what worked and didn’t work against each fighter.

Although, the window for doing so would be limited. The tournament wasn’t a game; there wouldn’t be endless opportunities to fail and restart until I learned the necessary tactics. I’d get only one shot to move to the next round.

The key would be figuring out each puzzle as quickly as possible, while minimizing the drain on resources. Preparation beforehand would be essential—both in knowing the opponent’s capabilities and improving my own.

Meanwhile, everyone else would be doing the same, which meant doing it all faster than them, so that by the time the battle began there could be no other outcome than victory.

Every fight is a puzzle, I thought, and the key to winning is being prepared and figuring out the dynamics faster than your opponent.

The sixth round had eight competitors. Ichkadeshtu matched against Aslishtei, and for once, he picked a weapon—a spear.

The bout started promising enough with Aslishtei summoning her hawks and snake in quick succession. Just like in the fight with Shiakotei, they kept her opponent from rushing her. Then, she brought out the flesh-eating butterflies, and everyone in the audience shuddered at seeing those black and green mottled wings. Surely the butterflies were a step too far, but they only hovered in front of her as a shield.

Ichkadeshtu frowned. There was a sweeping sense of mana and qi combining, and his spear multiplied—too many to count as they thrust through the cutter hawks encircling him. It must’ve been the soldier equivalent of my lodge’s Thousand Spears spell, although unlike Mumu’s version that looked like a thorny bramble, his was orderly and regimented, piercing down from the sky to pin the birds to the ground.

While the birds fell from the air and the snake was skewered, Ichkadeshtu moved, flying at Aslishtei with his spear extended. He went right through the butterflies, dust and all. So, Aslishtei fought defensively to keep him under the butterflies’ dust, and I watched in horror as it ate at Ichkadeshtu’s face and sections of bone and cartilage became exposed.

He didn’t cry foul, even though the pain must’ve been unimaginable. Instead, he fought zealously, battering Aslishtei’s hoops out of the way to strike at her and shove her out of the ring. Then, almost as if to spite her, he stood among the butterflies, glaring, until she could pick herself back up and call them back.

Without a word, the skeleton-faced Ichkadeshtu turned to leave. The crowd scrambled to get out of his way, and even as he walked, I saw the flesh and skin regrowing.

The crowds had thickened over the course of the day. The roars from the tournament’s spectators had drawn others, and by the time the semi-finals were ready to start, it was impossible to easily go from one ring to the next.

At the far side were Bruta and Wusta, the two leaders of Crunei’s Garden facing off against each other, and at my end, Ichkadeshtu would be fighting Sondo. I kept getting jostled as the spectators maneuvered for better views, but the fighters only traded measuring gazes. They had yet to bow to each other.

For this bout, Ichkadeshtu had chosen a pair of short wooden clubs, while Sondo had picked a macuahuitl of all things, except the blades spiked along the edges of the three-foot club were made of wood instead of steel or the traditional obsidian.

Sondo gestured to a land soldier in the crowd, and with a visible gulp, the soldier said, “Let Barakas witness the strength of our arms and the determination in our hearts. We will fight this day and every day, undaunted.”

The fighters immediately began to circle, their feet shifting under them, ready to react to any provocation. Like magnets, the two drew each other, spiraling toward the center of the ring.

They crashed together suddenly—Ichkadeshtu’s clubs whizzing as Sondo bent around them. Then the macuahuitl swept low to strike at Ichkadeshtu’s forward knee, and the healer-sworn soldier took the blow, turning it into a roll before leaping up to strike at Sondo’s back. Only for the captain to glide out of the way. Twisting, his macuahuitl came down.

Ichkadeshtu turned to take the blow on his shoulder, breaking the collarbone, but he didn’t stop. He grabbed hold of the weapon—despite the broken bone—and used his free club to smash Sondo’s elbow.

The air thumped with the sound of the hit, and with a pained grunt Sondo let go of the macuahuitl. His elbow was bent wrong, and his dislocated arm extended past where it should.

Sondo backed off, and Ichkadeshtu let him. They’d traded only five moves, and the fight was effectively over, unless Sondo had a trick hidden away that we hadn’t seen yet. He was the last land soldier in the tournament, so if they wanted the prize, he’d have to be the one to get it.

Sondo started circling again—searching, calculating—but it didn’t look like he’d have any way to hurt Ichkadeshtu, and there’d be no way to leverage a ring out with only one arm. I smelled the scent of Nature’s Spring, but the spell was far too slow to heal the elbow in time. Worse yet, if used poorly, the broken bones would set wrong.

“That’s enough,” a voice said from the audience, stopping Sondo mid-step.

People looked for the speaker, but it wasn’t anyone visible. The words seemed to have come out of the air. That it was Knight Ithia speaking was clear to me and the land soldiers in the audience.

They all bowed, including Sondo, and it seemed like business as usual for their land knight to have a way to observe and communicate like this. And an order was apparently an order, because Sondo conceded the bout. Afterward, he fought to keep the pain from his face, but it showed in his spirit, along with his visible dismay for failing his land knight.

In the fight, Sondo had gone for a crippling blow first, then a knockout. He’d committed a hundred percent to both attacks, no doubt wanting to avoid a drawn-out confrontation with an opponent able to regenerate.

Damn and damn some more. With this win from Ichkadeshtu, it meant that the healers had made it to the final. It’d be up to whoever won between Wusta and Bruta to keep them from Ikfael’s Boon.

I squirmed through the crowd to see if that other bout was still ongoing. The people around me must’ve had the same thought, and it felt like swimming through a wave of people heading in that direction.

Dolbecs in their blue and white masks surrounded the ring, and I was able to find a spot under a couple of them. What I saw, however, were Wusta and Bruta staring impassively at each other. They each had live steel in their hands, with another dolbec standing angrily between them.

Bleith Wustasdaughter (Human, Dolbec)

Talents: Steadfast, Logistalogical, Busy Buddy

Her voice was stern as she said, “This is not the place, and this is not an excuse to settle old grudges, no matter how opportune you think the timing. You are our leaders, but I speak for the rest when I say we reject this duel.”

I’d been in a hurry to get to the ring, so I hadn’t noticed the tension in the dolbec spirits around me. The members of Crunei’s Garden held their breaths, as they waited for... what? Their leaders to fight to the death? Permanent injury?

Both Wusta and Bruta were dusk, so I couldn’t see deeply into their spirits, and their body language gave nothing away either. They were pillars of stone as they stood there, weapons at the ready.

The lone concession the rules made for safety was the use of wooden weapons. If they fought like this, we’d have to disqualify them, and Ichkadeshtu would win the tournament by default.

“Recall our purpose here,” Bleith said, turning her gaze from Wusta to Bruta and back. “Our path is greater than the sum of your grievances. We refuse to let you drag us into the darkness of your rage. Decide here and now what you will do, but it will not be true battle.”

“You dare forbid it,” Bruta said, his voice soft.

“I dare,” Bleith said, “and would take it up with you at home, where we may duel in private.”

Voice grave, Wusta said, “You cannot delay us forever, my daughter.”

“I will not let you split us,” she said, her voice just as solemn. “Even if it means I have to kill you myself.”

Okay, I thought, maybe this is bigger than the tournament. Lives were at stake, because, from what I’d seen of Bleith’s spirit, she’d meant every word. We should just disqualify them both before they can start.

I hated the idea—down into my bones—but spiting the Healer’s Lodge wasn’t worth people losing their lives. The tournament was a success, and I expected even more people to participate next year. That was what ultimately counted. I had to believe that.

I spotted Mumu and Haol about halfway around the ring, so I wove my way around the spectators to get to them. Haol’s hand clenched and unclenched, while Mumu bit her lower lip in thought.

Haol saw me and signed, “Who won?”

“Ichkadeshtu,” I said.

They both grimaced at the news, then Mumu signed, “What do you think?”

“We have to stop the fight,” I said.

“But—” Haol began.

“I know. I don’t like it either, but whatever this is”—I gestured to the dolbecs in the ring—“it’s not what Ikfael would want.”

Which was true, no matter how we felt about the Healer’s Lodge, so when Mumu nodded to signal her agreement, I stepped into the ring to go stand beside Bleith.

I clapped twice to formalize the occasion and introduce myself to the newcomers in the audience: “I am Eight, keeper of Honored Ikfael’s shrine. I’ve come to tell the combatants the Blue Sword and the Blue Halberd to desist. Rage doesn’t serve the land, and neither does spite. Choose a different path, or else be disqualified.”

The moment drew out, but neither Bleith nor I spoke again. The matter was with Wusta and Bruta now. They needed to decide what happened next. The crowd waited with us; most were curious at how events would unfold, but there were a few who seemed to look forward to seeing blood spill. Fortunately, they kept quiet, silenced by the glares of those from Crunei’s Garden among them.

Bruta broke the silence. “Must I always concede? You cannot expect it every time.” Then he stowed his halberd on his shoulder and walked out of the ring.

He'd backed down, so we’d have someone to fight Ichkadeshtu after all. I exhaled in a rush and nearly went limp in relief. Bleith nodded at me, a thankful acknowledgement in the gesture, before she ran after Bruta.

As for Wusta, he continued to stand in place for a good while before he too put away his weapon. He walked out of the ring and headed toward the organizer’s tent to register his win.

The tournament’s final match would be Ichkadeshtu the Wall versus Wusta the Horror of Crunei.

44

The Sum of Steps

The audience helped clean up after the previous fights. Apparently, it was a tradition stretching as far back as anyone remembered, and I thought it was a nice touch—a measure of gratitude to the organizers and the fighters for their hard work. Once they were done, I had room to lay down the boundaries to make a new, larger ring for the tournament’s final bout.

People surrounded the circle in a wide, colorful band, a mixture of festivalgoers and the previously eliminated fighters. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, but with so many land soldiers around, no one dared start any trouble.

Teila had the idea of asking the dolbecs to stand to one side, so that the shorter folks could see. They’d agreed, and the move had the added benefit of creating a windbreak to protect the ring’s boundary. It’d begun to gust over the past twenty or so minutes.

Ichkadeshtu arrived first, the crowd making way for him. He carried a poleaxe on his shoulder—a wooden hammer on one side and blunted wooden spikes on the other and at the tip. Then Wusta, in the guise of the Blue Sword, stepped out of the crowd. Thankfully, he’d brought one of the wooden weapons with him this time, albeit super-sized to fit his frame. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if that thing was any safer. Getting hit with it would likely be just as deadly as with sharpened steel.

Without fanfare, the combatants took their positions and bowed to each other. Someone to my left, from where the dolbecs were, spoke the starting prayer.

There was a moment—a split second—where I felt the billowing of energy. Qi and body power washed over me like a bomb had exploded in the ring. The stone cracked under Wusta’s feet as he launched forward with his greatsword, but Ichkadeshtu was already moving, rolling, dodging past the swing. He repositioned to attack with his own weapon, yet Wusta danced a step, letting inertia rotate him around to crack—the weapons clashed, but neither splintered. The combatants had enchanted them.

Wusta’s strength was prodigious. He bore down on Ichkadeshtu and forced him to give way to the greatsword, taking control of the ring’s center in the process. In response, Ichkadeshtu used his poleaxe’s reach to strike at Wusta’s knees and groin. He tried hooking a leg to trip up his opponent; wherever the poleaxe went, however, Wusta’s greatsword was there to meet it.

Ichkadeshtu was Well-Trained and Trained Some More, but Wusta was a seasoned warrior. I’d seen his home and his discipline for training, for war. Just like Inleio had lived for the spear, Wusta lived for the sword.

The air around Wusta shimmered, and his swings grew fiercer. Yet the arcs were never sloppy; they blurred with a perfect rightness. My scalp crawled—a hit from one of those strikes would paste me for sure.

Ichkadeshtu was outclassed, and he seemed to recognize it. The man let the number of his attacks decrease, choosing instead to focus on defending himself. Maybe he thought he could win a battle of stamina? He was Unstoppable, after all.

I took it in—I took it all in—my spirit eyes enchanted so that I could catch every motion and feel every turn and pivot. Becoming one with the land, I was the weapons in their hands, the sweat flying, and the air creaking under the strain of a dozen attacks in the space of seconds.

My heart raced, and Yuki’s qi spun at a dazzling rate. Spontaneously, we merged so that our combined consciousness might better parse the fight in front of us. We were captivated by the artistry that transcended the brutality from which it originated.

A duel was a puzzle, indeed—a challenge to be met and a test of skill. It was a mathematics question whose sum was greater than its individual variables, or it at least had the potential to be so. Not everyone knew how to fight well, but Wusta and Ichkadeshtu surely did.

None of the bouts we’d witnessed previously had lasted longer than a few minutes, yet the skill and stamina of these fighters was such that they’d already gone for almost ten.

Ichkadeshtu’s elusiveness seemed to frustrate Wusta, however. The dolbec’s expression grew fiercer, and his skin tinged toward scarlet as the air around him heated even more. He left the center of the ring—a step here, a step there—starting to chase the healer-sworn before pulling himself back each time.

Then, an opening appeared: Ichkadeshtu was slow to withdraw from a failed attack on his opponent’s legs, and he let his left hand linger a fraction of a second too long. Wusta lunged a half-step to extend the reach of his greatsword and smashed it down.

The crowd gasped, but not Ichkadeshtu. He quickly retreated to buy time for the broken bones to heal, yet we knew there was no way Wusta would let this advantage slip. His greatsword flashed, and Ichkadeshtu retreated, flirting dangerously with the ring’s boundary. Wusta seized the opportunity—he left himself open, seemingly willing to trade hits to force a ring out.

Except, in a flash of amber light, Ichkadeshtu’s hand became whole again, and his poleaxe came to life, winding between Wusta’s legs. He had the leverage to trip the dolbec, tilting him toward the ring’s boundary. We held our breath, and for a moment we forgot about winning and losing. There was only the struggle before us as the two men fought their hearts out.

In the blink of an eye, Wusta let go of his greatsword. He twisted his body and grabbed the poleaxe’s haft to pull as he fell, bringing Ichkadeshtu closer. The healer-sworn also let go of his weapon, but his left hand was a touch slow. Wusta captured it, continuing to twist while using his body as the axis to lift Ichkadeshtu up and over.

The two rotated like a planet and its moon, with Ichkadeshtu unable to free himself from the gravity of Wusta’s grip. The healer-sworn was swung around and smashed into the ground—half his body outside the ring. Wusta fell next, yet somehow remained inside. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, since Ichkadeshtu was already out, but Wusta’s victory was somehow more complete that way.

The dolbec stood, breathing heavily. The air around him cooled, and the scarlet tinge to his skin faded. He looked a lot calmer than someone who’d supposedly lost their temper earlier, and we wondered how much of that had been a ruse. Or Ichkadeshtu’s mistake, for that matter—the first one that had lured Wusta into pursuing him.

There’d be time later to review the fight—we’d dedicate our dreaming time to it and all the other ones we’d witnessed too. For now, though, we split our consciousness, and I watched as Wusta helped Ichkadeshtu to stand.

The two bowed to each other, but the healer-sworn looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe he’d lost. His team gathered to check on him, but he only shook his head in response to their questions.

As for Wusta, or perhaps it should be the Blue Sword, his people gave him space as he gazed thoughtfully at the ring’s boundary. It was only when he looked up and gestured for them to approach that they came to him with their congratulations. They were a stoic bunch, except for a bunch of youngsters in homemade masks.

It looked like the teens had snuck in to watch the final bout. Their spirits spoke of having been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been, but they were also unrepentant and thrilled to have seen the fight. Crost was there among them, and he was probably the most excited of all.

The tournament had safely concluded. The healer’s agent had been defeated, and the tournament had a legitimate winner: Wusta the Horror of Crunei. All that was left was to award him his prize.

Knight Otter stood before the crowd. Above her head, a ribboned ring of water in blue and gray circled. She’d also made it seem like she wore a dress beaded with the design of a shimmering snake on a black background.

I stood beside her, thankful the closing remarks were hers to make. All I had to do was yell out what she signed. Even that was nerve-wracking in front of such a large crowd, but Yuki was, as always, close by in case I needed them.

“None of us are whole on our own,” Knight Otter signed. “Every drop in the river flows alongside a thousand others. Every leaf lives and falls with its siblings. The air itself contains a multitude of motes—the energies of life swirling together. And so it is with people too.”

Knight Otter gazed at the Blue Sword standing at the front of the crowd, then cast her attention wide across the rest of the attendees. “I say that none of us are whole on our own, and you likely think of your families and your lodges, your villages and even your cities. Soldiers, hunters, farmers, merchants, and so many more—all together, all necessary, and without one, the rest weaken.”

She paused to let the words sink in before continuing: “In contrast, there is also an advantage in striving against others and winning. Money, power, status—these are prizes; this is a truth—but the true benefit is in the striving itself, in the refinement of yourself and your path. Those you strive against are also your companions on that journey, whether you realize it or not.”

“The Path to Perfection is difficult. You battle to travel along it, and in so doing, you establish yourself. I will tell you this, however: How you win is who you become. That is the path’s nature. You are the sum of the steps you take.”

“None of us are whole on our own. Those around us—family, lodge, strangers, and enemies—they are all our companions in life.” Knight Otter returned her attention to the Blue Sword. “You have fought bravely and with skill. More importantly, you’ve held onto your honor. You may step forward.”

Wusta climbed onto the stage, the platform creaking. He bowed to Knight Otter, and then at her prompting, he also bowed to the audience. Surprised, they hurriedly bowed back, a few people yelling out their congratulations.

Knight Otter gave the crowd one last lingering look before saying, “May you all be blessed and find your way along the Path to Perfection.” Then, she gestured to Wusta to follow her into the pavilion, and I went in after them to act as an intermediary.

The tent’s ceiling was low for him, so he kept his head ducked until he could kneel. Outside, the crowd murmured loudly, but I tuned them out. There was still work to be done.

“I’ve already accepted your exchange,” Knight Otter said, “so all that’s left is to complete my side of the agreement. Our Eight will apply the treasure to your back—”

Wusta raised a hand to stop her. “If you will, the boon is not for me, but for a member of my family.” He touched a calling stone hanging around his neck, and a moment later we heard two claps outside and an excited voice.

“I’m not supposed to say who I am, but I am here to receive Honored Ikfael’s boon.”

I immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Crost, and when I went to let him in, I saw he wore a new mask, this one properly made. His spirit was wide open—drinking in the experience of meeting Ikfael, anticipating the boon, and everything else happening in this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

He was so tall and muscular, it was easy to forget he wasn’t even ten years old. Yet, he knelt by his grandfather and bowed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Thank you so much. The tournament was wonderful. I’ve learned so much—”

“Boy, that’s enough.” Wusta’s voice was stern. Then it turned careful as he addressed Knight Otter: “The tournament’s organizers said nothing about having to accept the boon for myself.”

Which… was an oversight on our part, and I kicked myself for not having foreseen it. We’d absolutely have to amend the rules next year. Otherwise, the consequences would be enormous—the only entrants in the tournament would be a handful of silvered or dark fighters, competing for the benefit on behalf of their families.

It was what I would have done if I were in that position, which got me wondering: Why had Ithia and Silasenei not entered the tournament? Was it beneath them, or had they respected Ikfael’s perceived intentions for it? Whatever the reason, I was glad they’d stayed out and had limited themselves to simply overrunning the roster with their people.

Wusta’s request didn’t faze Knight Otter. She said, “I’d intended the winner to be the boon’s recipient, but you’ve abided by the terms of the exchange. It is yours to decide where the boon will go.”

“Then this boy will have it,” Wusta said, putting his hand on his grandson’s shoulder.

So, I retrieved the blindfold I’d prepared in advance, then wrapped it around Crost’s eyes. There was only one, though, so I improvised by using my cloak for Wusta, who stoically accepted it.

Then, I went to retrieve the mahogany box in which we’d stored the portion of Yuki meant to help the winner. I lifted them out with reverence and set them against Crost’s back. Transforming into qi, they slipped into him easily.

The whole act was just that: An act to protect Yuki’s secret in case of hidden observers. There was no one else in the tent obviously, but there were so many weird and unexpected abilities out there that neither Ikfael nor I were willing to take the chance.

How is it? I asked.

‘Like a consommé in the process of being reduced,’ Yuki replied. ‘There’s a clarity to his qi and hints of a complex richness developing. Would you like a taste?’

Uh, maybe later. What about his meridians?

‘As we suspected, they’re slightly different, but since we only have a sample of one, we can’t make any assumptions about other dolbecs. There’s no sign of qi or mana usage, though.’

Crost can use body power, I thought. He did it when I sparred with him.

‘Don't worry,’ Yuki said. ‘We’ll observe its use when he does. What’s troublesome is the damage we’re seeing. Someone’s been heavy handed in their approach to stimulating his dantians and meridians. The blockages must be removed before we start.’

The next morning, Crost and his mother Bleith arrived at the Ten Point in their masks. We’d already arranged a room for them, as well as taken measures to ensure their privacy. For the entirety of their stay—for a long is it took for Crost to refine his qi and make an attempt at learning mana—they’d be holed up with us.

Ostensibly, Bleith was there because she was Crost’s mother, but she behaved more like a bodyguard. Don’t get me wrong—there was plenty of affection for her son in her spirit, yet there was also a sharpness beyond a mother’s protectiveness. Also, when it came time for the treatment to start, she protested being blindfolded, in contrast to how Wusta had accepted it.

There was no other way to proceed, though. Our secrets would be protected, and she eventually had to give in.

As Yuki worked, I pretended to be Ikfael’s voice, telling Crost what to do based on the uekisheile’s feedback. And frankly, the kid was amazing. Once the damage to his meridians was healed, he turned into a quick study. He sensed his qi tingling after only a couple of hours and was able to rudimentarily move it after a couple more.

The sense of wonder never left him either. The excitement he’d brought to the pavilion stayed with him even during the most mundane moments spent in tireless circulation of his qi, which took hours upon hours, day and night.

My team visited often to contribute qi to the enterprise; Teila was a trooper, putting her Wood-Wise talent to work. I meditated often and looked over Yuki’s shoulder as they worked. Sometimes we chatted, but not too often because they were busy-focused-working.

During breaks, I thought a lot about Ikfael’s remarks during the closing ceremony. There were also many times throughout the process when I was bored out of my mind.

Then, five days later, a soft chime sounded from within Crost. He’d refined his qi.

The boy was ecstatic, and his mother even more so. He’d gone from being qi insensitive to qi rich in such a short time. Ikfael’s Boon was miraculous, but we wouldn’t have been able to do it—any of it—without Yuki. They were the hidden treasure that made it all possible.

The tournament’s prize also included an effort to teach the recipient how to sense mana, but that went much less smoothly. Oh, we identified Crost’s affinity quickly enough—Time Magic—but only Mumu and I knew the rune for it, and even for us, the converted mana felt thin and difficult to sense.

Crost bravely tried, his expression reflecting an intense inward focus, but after a couple of days, he’d made no progress. Still, he knew something now that he hadn’t before—a direction to pursue. The odds were good the kid would get access to mana magic eventually.

Early the next morning, Bleith and Crost slipped out of the Ten Point. They’d thanked us profusely beforehand, but it was time for them to rejoin their family.

There were no hidden watchers to witness their leaving. All the important people in Albei already knew their identities; the masks were just a polite fiction, a source of plausible deniability. Still, they’d seemed to work, so now we could finally, finally start thinking about going home ourselves.

But first I had to fast, to lock myself away for the rest of morning, but this time in meditation and prayer. There was one more task left.

There were apparently no hard and fast rules for what I would be doing—only that I should reflect on the Path to Perfection and the struggle to travel along it. If there were any gods to whom I was close, I should also plead for their guidance in what was come.

So, I had a long conversation with Diriktot in my head, one to which he didn’t respond once. Not that I’d expected him to, although a part of me had hoped. I kept an eye on my phone in case there were messages.

I tried not to complain but failed. Recent events—this world as a whole—they’d been just so tough to endure, you know? Anyway, it felt good to unload, even if it was just inside the privacy of my head. At least Yuki understood. They were sympathetic throughout.

Then, at about three in the afternoon, someone clapped outside the door. “This is Mumu, come to say that the formalities have been completed. It’s time to go.”

“I—okay,” I called back. “I’m coming.”

What came next would be in two parts. The first was that I was finally going to rid myself of Ghitha’s curse. We had an appointment at Albei’s pyramid for a ritual, and then afterward we’d head to the Hunter’s Lodge to collect the light left behind by Borba, Kuros, and Banan.

Normally, a dead person’s light would go to their family and be reinvested there, but Borba’s relatives had run off, and even if they hadn’t, it would’ve been claimed by his victims’ families. Mumu had explained, though, that we’d bought the families out to keep the light in Voorhei. The wisdom of the decision was debatable, given our cash-strapped state, but she’d been adamant about it.

As for Banan and Kuros, they’d tried to murder me, so I had a claim to their light. Their families could’ve tried to buy me out—they’d certainly had the money—but they’d chosen instead to leave Albei for Sugrusu Hakei, escaping the stigma associated with having a murderer in the family.

While I’d been helping award Ikfael’s Boon, Mumu had handled the details as my lodge master. She hadn’t wanted me involved—not that she thought the families would seek revenge, but... how did she put it? “Your life is already complicated enough.”

And today, I’d be taking their light. The fasting, prayer, and meditation had all been in preparation—to both demonstrate my respect and hopefully improve my chances of learning from the experience.

People’s light was handled differently from animals and plants. Absorbing it was more meaningful, because... well... people had more in common with each other. That meant connections ran deeper and the odds of learning something useful—insights and epiphanies—increased.

By how much, no one knew, but it was enough that people created rituals around it. I mean, funerary practices were already universally important, but when survival might also depend on them? That wasn’t something to be messed with.

Downstairs, the rest of my team waited. Sheedi and my bodyguards too, and even the innkeepers and cooks lined up. They’d heard all about recent events from the Ten Point’s patrons, and offered their well wishes as the rest of us headed out.

The post-festival pyramid was quieter than usual, and it felt almost deserted as Sheedi led us through its labyrinthian corridors. The autumn festival had officially ended the previous day, and apparently the world speakers were still recovering from the big ceremony that’d brought it to a close. Even the chanting coming through the air vents seemed muted.

A guard met us at what looked like a waiting room. There were various cushions and tables, as well as things to eat and drink—nothing elaborate, just finger foods and watered-down wine. My team got settled in while I followed the guard through a door.

The next room had one of the pedestals used to create spirit maps at its center. It was half a size larger than the others I’d seen before and filigreed around the edges. There were also cabinets all around the room and another door that led to a bathtub full of steaming water and herbs, the scent of them filling the room.

The guard instructed me to undress and bathe thoroughly. I was to wash everywhere—he was quite adamant about that—and to stay in the tub until the water started to cool. He stuck around to make sure I got in, then asked me to duck my head under the water, before leaving for who knows where.

The water was salty. I didn’t drink it, obviously, but the taste was on my lips. With a sigh, I leaned back and let the heat release the tension in my shoulders and back. My whole body felt like it was unwinding, the pours opening. A look at my Status showed that I’d picked up the Sensitive (1) condition.

After about fifteen minutes, the guard came back to check on me. He had me duck my head under the water a couple more times before getting out of the tub. Then he handed me a simple white tunic to wear.

Iseld waited for us back in the room with the pedestal. I’d been told previously that she’d be handling the curse’s removal personally, and it was supposed to be an honor—the closest equivalent was something like an archbishop presiding over a baptism.

She seemed happy to do it too. I couldn’t see anything in that dawn spirit of hers, but I didn’t need to. Her smile was as genuine as you could get. And why not? She’d no doubt have heard about the success of Ikfael’s Boon. Next year, her son would benefit from it.

We chatted as she made a new map of my spirit, and she even took the time to walk me through it. This new map was more detailed than any of the others I’d seen, and Iseld was very good at interpreting the information on it. She came quite close to the numbers represented on my visible Status.

In particular, she highlighted the dark area just under my left scapula. “The curse,” she muttered, as if it was a personal affront. “You have no need to worry, our Eight. It a small thing, easily remedied.”

She ordered the guard to bring a couple of cushions from the waiting room, and then had me lie on them face down. I turned my head to watch as she went to one of the cabinets to retrieve… I swear to god it looked like an old dried-up giant leech. She smeared an herbal paste across one side, and then applied it to my back, where the curse was supposed to be.

The leech felt cool and tingly, then it warmed up as Iseld placed her hand on it. She closed her eyes, and we stayed that way for a couple of minutes before she whispered, “Heiddilei guide me,” and the skin under the patch started to itch.

Heiddilei was a god, also called the Seeker, and that was literally all I knew about her. Still, she and Iseld did good work. I’d been keeping an eye on my Status throughout the process; one moment Ghitha’s curse was there, and the next it wasn’t.

Iseld made a satisfied sound. She kept her hand in a place for a couple minutes longer, seemingly wanting to make sure, but my Status was clear of all Conditions except the usual Occupied. Even the Sensitive (1) had faded.

Afterward, I got dressed in my regular clothes and gear, while Mumu tried to pay Iseld for the service and offer a gift on top, yet the world speaker adamantly refused, and the two nearly got into an argument about it. Sheedi had to step in to mediate. Ultimately, the gift—a bracelet of polished beads—was accepted, while the payment went to a fund the pyramid maintained for those who couldn’t afford to pay for their own spirit maps.

Iseld saw us out, walking with us the entire way to the exit. As before, there weren’t many people present, but those that were definitely noticed. I felt like a tree getting marked by a dog, but that was just the cost of doing business.

Sheedi’s quiet nod to me told me to bear with it, so I did. Plus, Iseld had done me a favor.

I had no idea if Ghitha’s curse had affected any of the recent events in Albei. His curse was supposed to have been a small thing, relatively speaking, yet small things could cause big troubles.

Had it influenced events for the worse? I’d have to ask a diviner if I wanted to know for sure, but why bother? What was done was done. And to be honest with myself, I didn’t want to know. It’d irk me no end if Ghitha had made trouble for us even after he’d died.

Anyway, I was glad to have the curse gone.

The Hunter’s Lodge was empty except for a couple of hunters. From their conversation, it sounded like they were using the place as a meeting point before heading out to the market to look for post-festival deals.

Sheedi and my bodyguards weren’t allowed near the underground ritual rooms, so they stayed upstairs. Each of them patted or hugged me as was their preference, and Sheedi whispered a quiet prayer in my ear before letting me go.

At the bottom of the stairs, the attendant nodded to Mumu before unlocking the door to one of the ritual rooms. We made ourselves comfortable on the cushions inside, and moments later he clapped to let us know the light had arrived.

One of the cores was in a simple pine box, cushioned inside by sawdust, while the other two were nestled in a padded oak box. My team and I sat in a circle, placed the open boxes on the ground between us, and gazed at them, the mood heavy.

We’d all been involved in tracking down Borba and ending his life, and Mumu and Haol had gone a step farther by killing Banan and Kuros. It’d been self-defense—a highly proactive version, maybe, but self-defense nonetheless. As for me, my body count was now six: Borba, Banan, and Kuros, yes, but also Ghitha and the bandits Boscun and Kaad.

I’d tried not to think too much about any of them—all the deaths had been justified in one way or another—but I’d have been lying if I said didn’t sometimes catch myself dwelling on... well, what it all meant.

This world had a way of forcing uncomfortable decisions. They were often messy, without clear-cut boundaries for what was right and what was wrong. From the beginning, I’d done my best to navigate the cultural differences thoughtfully, but I knew I’d never be perfect.

This world pushed, and my inclination was to push back. Not always—I was hopefully wise enough to recognize when going with the flow was the better strategy, but I had to stick to solid ground too. That foundation would keep me, me.

Although, just who that was now was a nagging question.

I’d never been a killer in my past life, nor a fighter. The scuffles I’d experienced didn’t count, not when compared to the life-and-death struggles I’d experienced in this one.

Diaksha had changed me. I’d be a fool not to recognize that truth, and it occurred to me then, as I gazed at what was left of the three dead men, that I didn’t know entirely where the path I was on would lead. After all, with just a little more pressure, a little harder nudge, I might’ve become a member of the Healer’s Lodge.

In my mind, Yuki quietly whispered, ‘What did you do before, when you weren’t sure about how to live your life?’

I looked for what was true and let go of everything else.

Which… was still a viable strategy. I had what I’d learned from the traditions and people I’d trusted, as well as my own insights from studying and meditation. Anything uncertain, I’d test against those things to check if they rang true. I’d talk to my friends and ask for their wisdom too.

Thank you, I thought, and Yuki responded with a wave of love. Then, they sat back to watch, their own thoughts resonating along with mine.

My path wasn’t entirely mine alone. Yuki was with me—I never forgot that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. We had gotten so used to each other, I sometimes did.

After about twenty minutes of prayer and silent reflection, Mumu slid the oak box in my direction. The motion was business-like, but somehow not out of place in the atmosphere we’d created. “Traditionally, if others aided in your defense, you’d offer them a share, but we will forgo it this time. You’re about one hundred eighty kutha from Level 5, while I am early into Level 4 and Haol is mid-Level 3. We’d see the most good if you become dawn.”

Haol said, “The guaranteed talent at Level 5 is worth the delay in our progress. Also”—a smile slipped out—“I’d like to see people’s faces when they learn of an eight-year-old who is dawn.”

Slowly, a matching smile spread across my face. “It will be fun, won’t it?”

The two of us grinned at each other, and just like that, the heaviness I’d been carrying broke. My concerns didn’t go away, but with Yuki and my team with me, I didn’t feel as stuck in them.

Mumu took Haol’s hand in hers. “Borba’s light is owed to the lodge, but our hunters will understand the necessity; you and Yuki’s contributions for the tournament are beyond anything—” Her words caught in her throat before she could continue, “Our lodge would have vanished if not for the two of you. Our gratitude will never end for what you’ve done.”

Tegen’s voice was thick with emotion as he said, “We’ll never forget this blessing, nor the others you’ve offered. Not in twenty generations.”

I got misty-eyed in turn. “The lodge is a second family, but you all... you’re family-family.”

Well, we all got a bit emotional then, with tears shed by everyone, and it took a while longer yet before we were in any shape to proceed. Eventually, though, it was time.

I picked up Kuros’s core, recited the short prayer thanking the dead for their contribution to my path, and broke apart the darklight to find a collection of small, shiny nuggets.

285 silverlight gathered. 285 absorbed.

A slimy sensation slid through me, followed by the feeling of something tough and flexible, like a cord with its surface covered in snot. Nothing else mattered but the cord... and others like it. They’d braid together into an even tougher unit—a team. They were the only ones due any real loyalty. No one and nothing else could be trusted.

I shook my head to clear the ickiness, and it took me a moment to register the notification’s exact wording. You didn’t take your share? I thought.

Yuki replied, ‘We want to see you dawn too!’

Aww, thank you.

‘It’s okay. We plan to renegotiate for a higher percentage afterward.’

Do you now?

‘Don’t worry, we won’t be greedy. We’ll be fair.’

I'm not worried, I thought, smiling inwardly. You’d told me before the arrangement was only until we were both dawn. I haven’t forgotten.

‘Hurry up and absorb the next one. We want to know what you get.’

The notification for Banan’s core read:

498 silverlight gathered. 498 absorbed.

A thinness came with that one’s silverlight, a feeling of finding it hard to breathe. Too much was too close, and there wasn’t enough room for air. Everything had to be pushed away and kept at a distance, but that was no way to live, to survive in a harsh world. So, you had to be selective, pick wisely, and create the person who you needed to be to make it all work. Otherwise, you’d disappear, asphyxiated while surrounded by the colorful and the bright.

These people were broken, weren’t they?

Yuki nodded in agreement. ‘Not that our response would’ve been any different had we known that.’

Yeah, they made their choices. It’s just a shame.

“How is it?” Mumu asked.

I checked my Status and saw that I had a total of 6,627 silverlight gathered. The breakpoint for Level 5 was 6,750, so… “I’m twenty-five kutha’s worth short.”

Teila chimed in: “Then Borba’s light is more than enough. You should still take it all, though. The lodge will understand.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather not. His history is heartbreaking.”

Tegen reached over to put a hand on my shoulder. “Taking light is also taking responsibility.”

Mumu frowned in thought. “That’s a truth we should all share in. I will apportion Borba’s light, setting aside the lodge’s share while making sure to give our Eight enough to reach dawn.”

So, we paused until a scale could be brought, and Mumu measured out thirty kutha’s worth of silverlight. I had a reputation for being unusually precise in my measurements of anything Status related, but Mumu had added some extra, just in case.

150 silverlight gathered. 150 absorbed.

An impression swept through me of disappointment—a frustratingly difficult slog to reach a goal only to stumble at the end into lonely, crushing, brutal disappointment.

Even though the sensations from Borba’s light weren’t as strong as the previous two, I felt my heart ache for him. He’d been such a tragic figure.

“Eight?” Mumu asked.

“I’m all right, just saddened.”

“And the light?” Tegen asked.

I saw four separate notifications:

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to grow in power.

The World Spirit rejoices. Another has become dawn.

Your path evolves!

And:

You did it! :)

I checked the last one first, but that was all there was to the bittersweet message. The amalgamation of my super and subconsciousness called System Eight must’ve been well and truly integrated into the System by that point.

Speaking of which, the time had finally come for me to learn what it meant to become dawn.

45

A New Path Forward

When Inleio had talked about becoming dawn, he’d said it was the first time he’d ever truly felt the will of the World Spirit. There’d been a gladness to the experience and an innate acknowledgement that he was firmly on the Path to Perfection.

In the quiet moments hanging out with Moon, he’d said something similar about becoming dusk, except the World Spirit had honored him for his sacrifice, which implied he too was on a path. In both cases, the men were rewarded for their efforts, and that was the sense I got from:

The World Spirit rejoices. Another has become dawn.

Walker, know that every step transforms the path and the world. For reaching this milestone, you receive:

- A bonus attribute point and guaranteed talent.

- Bonuses to your capacities for body power, qi, and mana.

- An increase of maximum human attributes from 20 to 25.

- A gift appropriate to your soul marks, talents, and path.

Immediately after reading the notification, the next one opened on its own to demand my attention:

Your path evolves! Please select from one of the following options before continuing:

- Forester

- Veil Walker

- Elementalist

- Fallen Druid

- Storm Caller

The two notifications put me in a weird spot. The solemnity of just a few minutes earlier clashed with a rising elation. In addition, my joy—the bonuses and path evolutions sounded so incredibly cool—was compounded by a similar feeling pouring into me, as if I were a canteen being filled with euphoria.

I’d been told what to expect by Inleio and the others, but the experience was much more intense than I’d anticipated. I started to sweat and my mouth filled with saliva.

“It’s started,” Tegen said. “He’s showing the signs.”

“Can you talk?” Mumu asked. “What do you sense for your path?”

My breathing was rough, but I got out: “The Forester, but there are others—”

“Easy now,” Tegen said. “The transformation won’t hurt you. It may seem like you need to rush, but that’s not the case. Take your time and think about any decisions required.”

Mumu said, “The Forester is the most natural evolution of your path—you would automatically become one upon reaching full adulthood even without achieving Level 5—but the World Spirit almost always offers other options. Feel along the edges for connections.”

That part was easy; I didn’t have to feel for anything, since the phone in my head displayed them all for me. The problem was the dawn energy—it urged me to hurry and pick what I most desired. I had to force myself to be disciplined and start from the top.

Forester

Your heart is one with the land, and you are its caretaker, protecting its denizens and spirits. A small amount of authority is invested in you to act on its behalf, and your skills focus on a blend of survival, martial, and nature magic.

The description was mostly the same as for Young Forester, but there was something new too. I took a breath, and asked, “What does authority mean when it's related to a path?”

There were smiles all around, but it was Mumu who answered. “That’s good if you can sense authority. It means you’ll have the World Spirit’s blessing to act in ways appropriate to the path.”

Tegen was quick to add, “Although you should still follow the law.”

“That’s true,” Mumu said. “The world speakers get involved when authorities clash, and none of us want another trial.”

To which everyone vigorously agreed. Anyway, the pressure inside me mounted. What’s next?

Veil Walker

You occupy the liminal boundary between light and dark, life and death. As the land’s last resort, you are invested with the authority to end threats that others cannot, utilizing a mix of stealth and martial skills, as well as nature and spirit magics. This is an assassin’s path.

Teila observed, “Eight, your face is very strange.”

“There’s a path for assassins,” the words slipped out.

I heard a chorus of “Ohs" in response, then after a brief hesitation, Tegen said, “There are many Paths to Perfection. None of us will judge you for following your family’s traditions.”

Despite everything I’d said to the contrary, people still believed the story about my mysterious past as the only survivor of a family of assassins.

“You might get in trouble with the law,” Mumu added. “Some cities have ways to identify problematic paths.”

None of them had to worry about that, though, because the point was moot; there was no way I’d pick Veil Walker. Sure, it sounded amazing as hell—and if it had been a choice offered in a role-playing game, I would have genuinely considered it—but I’d just helped hunt down Borba. I didn’t want experiences like that to occupy the rest of my life.

Instead, I focused on the next three options:

Elementalist

The world is made of magic. While this path accesses a variety of elements, the focus is on simplicity over complexity. Spells would derive their potency from being quick, effective, and practical. You won’t build any grand magics, but you’ll win in a shootout. Skill growth is entirely magical.

Fallen Druid

You’ve been touched by both a fallen god and the spirits of the land. This is an extremely rare path and comes with significant authority over the territory in which you preside. The path comes with a strong focus on leading others, and you use nature and spirit magics to both benefit them and debilitate your foes.

Storm Caller

Your heart is one with the storm, and the storm answers your call as a lover might. This path embodies nature’s most primal forces with an emphasis on air, water, and lightning affinities. It also provides moderate authority over the weather, bonuses to the growth of select survival and martial skills, and a predisposition for affinity-based talents.

My mind raced, and my heart along with it. Sure, there was also the energy boiling inside me pushing for an outlet, but also the options in front of me were just incredible. Or that was how it seemed to me, with each one fulfilling a long-held fantasy of mine.

Even the most straightforward evolution—the one to Forester—was a fine choice. Its younger version had served me well and done everything I’d hoped it would. In many ways, that was the safe choice.

Fallen Druid, on the other hand, was the safer choice. Its description called it “extremely rare,” and included the first time I’d ever seen the System call anything significant. Neither of those things could be discounted. The path also came with skills and magics that almost guaranteed I’d be okay living in the woods with Ikfael. I could practically build a town around her, buffing its residents and debuffing its enemies.

My only concern was how much my strength would be tied to her territory, which was okay given how much I loved my home, but I also still had a long life ahead of me. At some point, I’d want to travel and explore the world.

And then there was Storm Caller. Its description included another first: the System mentioning a path affecting a person’s talents. The path practically screamed that it’d be the fastest way to acquire the Lightning-Touched talent, and that got me itching to select it. I didn’t, though, and decided to be sensible, sharing the information with Yuki and the rest of my team first, so that we could discuss the options like reasonable, rational people.

First, Yuki somersaulted in joy. They’d known my choices were exciting from sensing my reactions to them, but once they heard the details, their happiness overflowed, filling my heart dantian to the brim. Between them and the high from the Level 5 milestone, I thought I might pop.

My team was also delighted, although there was confusion too. They’d expected Forester, and while Elementalists weren’t common, it was a known path. On the other hand, Veil Walker was a mystery to them, even though Mumu had done research on assassination paths just in case one popped up for me.

Druids were even rarer than Elementalists, but my team had never heard of a fallen one. Tegen hypothesized that the path came from my ability to interact with the spirits of the dead, which wasn’t true at all, but I couldn’t exactly tell them that. Diriktot’s role in my life was still a secret.

Finally, weather-related paths tended to appear in the Farmer’s Lodge, but Storm Caller felt like a different beast entirely. Supposedly, there’d been hermits with similar paths whose powers had been either highly regarded or highly feared, depending on the stories told about them.

The team went around in circles discussing the benefits of Forester versus Fallen Druid versus Storm Caller. By consensus they’d eliminated Veil Walker for being problematic and Elementalist for not providing enough benefits, and I was in agreement.

My choice of path would affect more than just me, so I did my best to focus, listen, and resist the lure of Storm Caller. I don’t want to make the wrong decision.

‘But you’ve been doing fine so far, keeping up with the lodge’s best,’ Yuki said. ‘If that’s been possible as a Young Forester, then how much more capable will you be with any of these other paths? There’s no wrong answer, is there?’

I could do better. We’re surrounded by monsters—

‘We’re surrounded by friends too,’ Yuki said. ‘And it’s not like either of us will stop growing. You’re just picking a direction for that growth.’

There are real benefits to Fallen Druid, you know. We could make the Glen safe.

My grappling with the decision must’ve shown on my face, because Mumu said, “Eight, a good decision arises when head, heart, and desire are in alignment, but when the three disagree, then choose the heart. The head can be wrong, and desires change with time, but it’s the heart that will let you persevere when the path is at its darkest.”

Yuki hummed in agreement. ‘The heart wants what it wants. And besides, will Fallen Druid make the Glen safer than being able to rain down lightning on our enemies?’

I grinned like a fool. That would be so badass.

‘The baddest.’

“So we’re okay,” I asked aloud, “with me choosing Storm Caller?”

We certainly are, Yuki said.

Mumu, her eyes bright, said, “You will delight our farmers and bring terror to our enemies. Voorhei will be the envy of every village within a hundred eisqilm.”

The others nodded as well, and that was all I needed for my resistance to drop. The energy within me vibrated more strongly; it filled me like magic did before casting a spell—the potential spilling over into action, rushing through me, changing me.

I grew lightheaded and saw stars. Random muscles across my body locked, but my team had already moved to support me. They helped me lie down even as a series of contractions and expansions moved through me, like the different parts of me were being tested by a hammer to check how they sounded-reacted-responded.

Then, my mind fuzzed—the feeling uncomfortably reminiscent of Meliune’s Blessing. Distantly, I recognized pain arising in my bones, organs, nervous system, blood vessels. In my everything, the electricity of change danced—ten thousand pillars of skyfire blazing.

My team cradled me throughout. They placed a piece of leather between my teeth for me to bite, and sang softly as they wiped away sweat. Time passed in a haze, and my consciousness dimmed and brightened, supported by Yuki internally in the same way my team did externally.

Dimly, I became aware of the sound of a drum beating. I thought at first it was my heart—it felt like it—but the sound also came from outside too. I followed it back to everyday reality, and I opened my eyes to see Mumu above me, stroking my hair, while Tegen and Haol danced and Teila beat on a small drum.

Mumu gently kissed my forehead. “Welcome back, our dawn. We see you, Eight Storm Caller.”

My team had dimmed the lighting in the room, but even so, my eyes prickled as I looked up at Mumu. I felt shaky, hungry, and thirsty. She helped me upright, and Teila brought a jug of water in one hand and a bowl of lukewarm porridge in the other.

She held the jug for me as I gulped the water down, and then fed me the first couple spoonsful of porridge until I was steady enough to feed myself. I was halfway through the bowl when I realized I’d known the temperature even before tasting it.

The room itself was cool, it being underground and almost winter, while my team was... my team. Okay, so I didn’t suddenly possess a magical temperature sensor, but there was something in the air I couldn’t pin down—an invisible and pervasive presence. It reminded me of the times in my previous life when I’d visited places known to be haunted.

My spirit eyes didn’t reveal anything, however. The feeling just nagged at me from the back of my mind.

Mumu whispered, “Focus within, so that you may know yourself. We will wait.”

Right, okay. I turned my attention to the phone in my head, and saw:

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to grow in power.

You’re now Level 5 and dawn. You receive two free attribute points. Checking for new talents. *Ding* Your hard work has successfully triggered a nascent talent.

Attribute and skill gains have been finalized. Thank you for striving toward perfection.

- Strength has increased from 9 to 10.

- Spirit has increased from 16 to 17.

- Luck has increased from 13 to 14.

- Wisdom will grow from 15 to (16).

- Aeromancy has increased from 6 to 7.

- Hydromancy has increased from 6 to 7.

- Nature Magic has increased from 5 to 6.

- Physics has increased from 4 to 5.

- Taoism has increased from 8 to 9.

- Survival, Ocean has increased from 3 to 5.

The base benefits for a Level 5 Storm Caller are active.

- Attribute foci:

- Wisdom, primary

- Spirit, secondary

- Agility, tertiary

- Skill foci:

- Aeromancy

- Hydromancy

- Nature Magic

- Survival, all

- Spear Arts

- (An additional martial discipline)

Your capacity for silverlight has grown. Secondary attributes increase by another 40%. The total bonus is now 100%.

- Body power has increased from 15 to 20.

- Qi has increased from 52 to 68.

- Mana has increased from 25 to 32.

I couldn’t help myself and rushed to check my talents:

Talents

- Jack of All Trades

- Talent Scout

- Qi Sensitive

- Uncanny Tracker

- Multilingual

- Enduring

- Spirit Hunter

- Lightning Affinity

- Heart of the Storm

There it was, the talent I’d been hoping for.

Heart of the Storm

Sometimes there are talents one is born to. This is not one, no matter what you may have believed. Still, lightning and thunder have called to you since you were a child, and you’ve steadfastly answered with curiosity, passion, and love.

Now when you speak, the spirits of the air and water will listen. This talent also eases the way for the changes required for weather-influencing paths, unlocking access to body power; it provides bonuses to aeromancy, hydromancy, and nature magics; and it increases affinity for thunder and lightning. The effects of Heart of the Storm scale with Wisdom and Spirit.

I sat stunned, my team waiting patiently for me, but it took time to wrap my head around what I’d just read. Like seriously, there was a lot to unpack—from the dig at me for believing mi abuela’s story about me being born under a thunderbird, to how I should have access to body power now. What?

I didn’t feel any different, but Yuki said, ‘There are silver filaments running up and down your spine, from the base all the way up into the brain.’ They tapped one, and I suddenly felt a shiver travel up along my back.

“Eight?” Mumu asked, concerned.

Tegen leaned in. “The physical transformation can sometimes force a person to relearn how to move their body.”

“That’s not it,” I said, then toggled between the English and Diaksh versions of all the relevant tooltips to make sure I understood the vocabulary. “My new talent is supposed to give me access to body power, among other things—”

“What other things?” Haol asked, interrupting.

Then Teila chimed in, "Do you have a feeling for what your new talent should be called?”

“Heart of the Storm,” I said.

Mumu’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know it, but any talent named with ‘heart’ is usually considered strong. Like being Scout Born or Spear Friend.”

“This is a powerful talent—I have no doubt about it—I just can’t figure out the body power piece. It’s going to take some experimentation.”

“Which you’ll do later,” Mumu said. “For now, update us on the other Level-5 changes.”

Right. They need to know where things stand before the trip back to Voorhei tomorrow, but I’ll have to be careful—they only know what’s on my visible Status.

I brought my phone to mind, and then saw:

Soul Marks

- God Touched

- Spontaneous Formation

- Memories of Another World

- Mana Door

- Way of the Hunter

- Dawn

The tooltip for the new soul mark, Dawn, was still loading. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to decode, since it might provide more clues to what was happening behind the scenes.

The attribute gains were no surprise; they’d all been in the process of growing to their new ranks. What was unexpected, however, were the new ranks in Physics and Taoism. The only explanation I could think of was that my new path somehow affected them.

My attribute foci were the same three stats, just with different priorities. I’d lost Archery and Stealth, but could apparently pick a new martial discipline. When I poked the slot with my mind, I felt it waiting for me to fill it, which I did with Archery. The bow had grown to be a part of me, and I couldn’t imagine putting it down for another weapon.

And holy hells, my secondary attributes were nuts. Hitting Level 5 had increased the bonus by an additional forty percent instead of the usual twenty. That meant I now had enough qi to cast seventeen spells and enough mana for eight spells.

For a moment, I admired my new attributes:

Attributes

Strength

10

Constitution

10

Agility

10

Intelligence

15

Wisdom

15 (16)

Spirit

17

Charm

11

Luck

14

Free Attributes

2

Body Power

20

Qi

68

Mana

32

I had the physical strength and stamina of an adult, which was wild considering my still-eight-year-old body. I mean, I was incredibly fit given my training regimen, but there were surely other, magical factors at work too.

And I could grow my attributes even more with two free points to spend. The only milestone in reach, though, was Luck. I could put one there and cross my fingers for a second new talent, but I hesitated, since it was such a nebulous stat.

Luck 14

A measure of how much and how often the fabric of the universe bends in your favor. Be careful not to count on Luck to save you. It may make for some strange synchronicities and coincidences though.

I’d been translating the updates, switching back and forth between the hidden and visible versions of my Status to make sure I didn’t screw up the explanations to my team. Fortunately, both versions showed Luck as being a point shy of milestones—14 on the hidden and 9 on the visible.

I thought they would debate among themselves about where to focus my attribute growth, but they were all adamant in advising some variation of: “Always go for the milestone.”

Talents were just too valuable in this world, and the conventional wisdom was that any opportunity to trigger one was almost always worth it. We talked and talked, and they eventually convinced me to try my Luck, as it were. I assigned a free attribute point, after which a notification popped up:

Congratulations. You have reached a Luck milestone. Checking for new talents. Sorry, no new talents were triggered. The base benefits of 15 Luck are now active: oddities, accidents, and coincidences tend to favor you at increased rates.

Damn. It wasn’t a good feeling to have spent a point spent on such a wishy-washy result. There was no use regretting it, though. I’d given it a shot, and who knew, maybe the extra Luck would come in handy some day. That was a more comforting thought than the alternative, which was that I’d wasted the point entirely.

The other I put in Spirit, with the goal of eventually reaching rank 20. The first attribute to hit that milestone was supposed to guarantee another talent. That was a much safer and more productive investment.

Out of nowhere, Yuki said, ‘There are patterns in the filaments. They repeat and reinforce each other.’

Do they look like runes?

‘A bit, but they’re differently complicated. We don’t know how to describe it.’

So the two of us merged, separated again, and— Yes, they’re beautiful but tonally different from qi and mana magic. Aloud, I said, “Let’s see what happens when I cast Spark.”

My teammates were game, so Mumu helped me stand before joining the others across the room. Once they were all a safe distance away, I brought the rune to mind, my mana flowed, and—suddenly I felt lightheaded. Just a touch, though, and not enough to cause me to stumble or drop the spell.

The livewire in my hands came to life in a way it never had before. Stronger, brighter, fiercer—the sheer elemental brilliance of the Spark was intoxicating.

The filaments are shining!

I didn’t have to force the electricity to ignore the spell’s constraints. Once Spark was cast, it now listened to my will, bending and turning and even circling around me like a snake. At the same time, my mana drained and my qi too. There was also the feeling of something more earthy and physical dwindling. The sensation was like having worked on set or at a construction site all day, feeling sapped at the end. It was a weird, weird sensation, because it didn’t impact my actual stamina at all.

From what Sheedi had told me, the element-touched didn’t spend any of their energies when controlling their respective elements. It was apparently a function of will, and now I could replicate it.

Except for me it did cost; I felt all three energies—mana, qi, and body power—draining as the electricity danced around me. After the initial cast, my tanks steadily diminished, and the longer I kept it flowing, the better I was able to estimate the cost: an even blend of one point’s worth of mana, qi, and body power for every second of active control.

I wasn’t Lightning-Touched, but it sure felt like the next best thing. Wait, was that the gift the System promised, or is it something else?

46

Homecoming

Upstairs, Tegen intercepted Sheedi to report on my new path, which let me step outside unobstructed. It was like waking from a dream. The air was clear and cold, the breeze rustling my hair the same way a friend might. Great billowing clouds raced across the sky, urged along by the much-faster winds higher up. The rain they carried was benevolent and would nourish the land. I knew it like I knew my hands were attached to my arms.

The world felt alive in a way that not even my spirit eyes captured, which was honestly hard to fathom. There’d been many times when one with the land where I was the reeds stirring, the grasses dancing, and the treetops blowing, and now that connection was even deeper.

Want to see what it’s like? I asked.

Yuki’s answer was an unequivocal, ‘Yes!’

The two of us merged consciousnesses, and we sank into the land, opening ourselves to the experience. Our team hovered around us, protective but also amused to see us so enamored with simply looking at the sky.

Nearby, the festival’s visiting merchants were packing up what was left of their goods, and their tents came down in preparation for going home. Handfuls of visitors lingered to watch, with most gathered around the warmth of the fires spread around the plaza. The breeze brought us the scents of smoke, oxen dung, and sweaty labor.

Ghosts moved among the people, ignored, but the land felt their passing like an itching of the skin. The spirits of people in armor gazed longingly at the warm fires, while the giant beasts wandered aimlessly. We saw a hellmouth among them and wondered how it’d gotten into the city.

So, Albei was still Albei; we learned nothing new about the place. Above it, however, was the immensity of the sky. We’d never quite understood how vast the system of forces was that inhabited it. Our mind possessed facts—knowledge we’d learned from books, lectures, and interviews—but in that moment we felt it. A kind of one with the sky.

We were smaller than fleas in comparison, tiny creatures huddled against the land. Was this the gift, then? This deeper understanding of the sky and our connection to it?

The wind rose as we stood mesmerized, swirling and forming into small, harmless twisters before releasing that most dangerous of shapes. Open as we were, we recognized the abnormality of the air flow and how it gathered, responding to a call as potent as the land’s.

Our companions grew alarmed, so Mumu asked, “Is this your doing, Eight?”

But we were transfixed and unable to answer. We felt the wind as if it was in our body: the looping and turning on itself, as well as the eddies and pools. There were patterns to how it flowed. We recognized some from the spells we knew—bits of Cold Snap, Spark, and Air Shield—and there were many that were unknown. More, the way the wind moved was also reminiscent of how qi flowed through sections of our meridians.

Our belly warmed, the sensation a signal of the Taoism skill. There was something we needed to do, but the answer to the question of what escaped us. All our combined intelligence could do in that moment was memorize the patterns in the hopes of figuring them out later.

High above, a strand of cloud peeled away from the rest to find a still spot over the city, graying over time and growing ponderous until the water slipped free, the burden easing.

A fine rain fell, frigid cold against the exposed skin of our face. Mumu tightened our cloak around us, then raised the hood to keep us dry. Our team didn’t attempt to take us inside, however. Instead, they and our bodyguards stood with us, watching over us until the last drops fell and the wind that’d summoned them dissipated.

As we came out of the trance and split our consciousnesses, I fell to my knees and bowed, my whole heart in my hands. This, this was the World Spirit’s gift, and I was ever so grateful for it. A spell to call rain. A spell that, with more investigation, might one day call storms.

“Is all well?” Mumu asked, concerned.

“Very—very much so,” I said, my voice cracking. Explaining the rest, however, would wait until I got these beautiful people somewhere warm. They’d stood out in the cold rain for me, and they deserved at least that much.

“The World Spirit gives gifts only rarely.” Sheedi sipped from a cup of warmed plum wine. “Our Eight is blessed.”

Haol chuckled. “Say something new, why don’t you.”

The rest laughed with him. The worry they’d felt had melted, aided by my explanation, a roaring fire, and hot food and drink. Ostensibly, we should’ve been celebrating my becoming dawn, but we all agreed to wait for better timing. The whole of Voorhei would want to participate, not to mention my family.

I couldn’t wait to see their expressions when I shared the news. The surprise and delight were going to be fantastic.

“It’ll be good to go home,” I said.

My bodyguards shared a look between them. The job they’d been assigned to do was almost done.

“What’ll you do once we’re gone?” I asked them.

Grasset responded first. “My duty is clear; the Long Dark is a little more than three weeks away.”

Agath turned the cup in her hand, gazing at the pale liquid inside. “Moon and I will stay in Albei through the winter, but when spring comes, we’re thinking of going back to Dolbec’s Rock. Life in Albei is complicated, and it’ll be good to be among our own people for a time.”

The two dolbecs had defended me, and while they hadn’t said anything about it, I was pretty sure they’d done it despite pressure from the Healer’s Lodge and/or their supporters.

“I’ll miss you,” I told them. “I couldn’t have asked for more stalwart defenders.”

Agath put the cup down to look at me and my team. “And your lodge has been the client we sorely needed—honest and fair.”

Mumu shook her head. “It’s us who are grateful. In the face of great danger, you stood beside us. We won’t forget that.”

Agath and Moon both blushed, and I couldn’t stand it; I got up to give them hugs, which caused them to blush even harder. The others laughed good naturedly.

Once I was back in my seat, Mumu said, “Tomorrow morning, we’ll visit our grandmaster and Kila, and then depart the city. Your duty is at an end.”

The bodyguards bowed to her, and she and the rest of us bowed back. Agath had been right in describing Albei as a complicated place, but we’d survived it.

The next morning, we were up an hour before dawn. Our gear was already in order from the previous night; we only had a couple of social obligations left before we could leave for home.

We’d spent much longer at the Ten Point than any of us had anticipated, so the innkeepers arranged a special sendoff, preparing Ikfael’s favorite foods, including the barley-flour donuts I’d shown them. We thoroughly enjoyed the meal and made promises to stay again the next time we were in Albei.

The sun was just starting its climb when we trooped over to the Albei Hunter’s Lodge to say our goodbyes there. Silasenei was as inscrutable as ever, but she at least congratulated us on the success of the “Tournament of Masks.” With a sly grin, she informed us people were already calling it that and talking excitedly about the bouts they’d witnessed.

Less pleasant was the news that Knight Ithia was postponing her decision about the status of the Healing Water spell until the spring. The status quo would continue for a while longer yet.

Given Silasenei’s role as Ithia’s spymaster, I was sure she had more influence on the decision than she was letting on, but I tried to not let it get to me. I’d seen enough behind the scenes to know that Albei’s leadership were dealing with more serious issues than me.

Still, our grandmaster seemed genuinely sad to see us go. She walked us out and waved at our departure.

Then, it was on to Uncle Kila’s family residence. They’d heard from Grasset about my becoming dawn, so another big meal awaited us. The family spared no expense either, and I got to try my first hot chocolate in Diaksha. The people in this world drank it good and thick too, mixed with chilies, allspice, and maple.

The cacao beans had apparently been transported via a coastal trader from much farther south, making their way inland via the Sootyel, the river adjacent to Albei. The long journey meant the beans were expensive, so everyone treated the chocolate with reverence.

Teila’s eyes practically rolled back into her head, and I imagined Ikfael would have reacted similarly—she was in her figurine by that point—so I set a mug aside for her. Once I was out of debt, I’d also arrange for some for Bihei and my kids.

Speaking of debts, Uncle Kila snuck Mumu and me away to give us a peek at the plans for next year’s tournament. To sum up, they expected to employ several covert teams to source the materials and labor necessary for the infrastructure ahead of time. They’d also commission a grander pavilion for Ikfael, one with privacy in mind from the start. The issue of security was still being explored, but he mentioned a couple of promising ideas.

Kila’s family had loaned us a fortune; they also expected to make it back and much, much more. They recognized the tournament’s income potential and were willing to put in the effort to realize those profits.

They’d had evidence of it, after all. The Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge had earned just a little over forty antaak and Kila’s family almost fourteen. That was an incredible haul for less than a month’s worth of work.

After our private conversation, we went back to the meal, and a couple of hours after that, we rolled out, stuffed to the limits of human endurance. Sheedi and my team didn’t quite waddle toward the city gate, but goddamn, it was slow going.

The west gate was a lot like the north one, and it was late enough in the morning for the gate to be busy with farmers and merchants queued to pass through in both directions. Interestingly, we were still subject to a customs inspection on the way out, as well as having to pass through the mankiller detector. This time, though, when the smoke turned red for Mumu, Haol, and me, the response was an interview instead of an interrogation. That was when Aslishtei and Sondo showed up to bid us farewell.

I’d spotted Little Red here and there over the course of the morning, so it wasn’t unexpected to run into the two of them. What did surprise me was that neither appeared to be sore about losing in the tournament. They even went so far as to say their bouts had been instructive.

The dissonance from the first time I’d met them was striking, but I now had something they wanted: Ikfael’s Boon. And knowing the source of the change in their behavior tainted what might otherwise have been a pleasant encounter.

Anyway, the “chat” didn’t last very long, and we finally got to leave Albei behind.

On the other side of the gate, the sky was mostly blue with patches of clouds lingering, the winds having lost their urgency from the day before. It was cold, though, and my sense was that the temperatures would continue to drop over the next few days.

Traveling along the road in good weather, with Sheedi in a protected position, I figured we should arrive in Voorhei in about four hours, maybe longer depending on what came out of the woods.

I really couldn’t wait.

We ran into a flock of iron-red geese occupying the road. They weren’t dangerous to a team like mine, but they did have a reputation for being tough, mean, and vengeful. Worse, they passed along their grudges to their offspring, and there were stories of them harassing hunters for decades after a hunt.

If even a single iron-red goose managed to escape, there’d be no end to the troubles we’d see, so we chose to wait them out. The delay wasn’t a big deal if it meant not having to fight them.

The rest of the trip was uneventful thankfully, and we arrived at Voorhei’s boundary a little before three.

The late-afternoon light slanted down on the village, and people were still out working in the fields. My heart should’ve warmed at what was supposed to be a picturesque sight, but I felt only uneasiness.

The farmers weren’t tending to crops—they were creating berms and studding them with spikes. The base of the village walls bristled with them already, and small pits had been exposed. Each was lined with stone and only about a foot across and a foot deep—good for catching a running animal’s leg and breaking it. These leg breakers had apparently been there all this time, just covered over.

Voorhei’s spirit was grim, heavy with the sorrow we’d left it with, and now it was also compounded by the Long Dark’s approach. Whistles sounded as we were sighted, and moments later a team of hunters ran to meet us, Kesa in the lead.

The reunion was glad but muted. Handclasps turned into hugs, hugs into bows as Kesa acknowledged our efforts: “You’ve brought Borba to his rest and given Inleio and his family their justice. More, you’ve saved our lodge from those that would enslave us. Let none doubt you, our lodge master.”

Mumu’s smile was fleeting. “We have news, but first how go things here?”

“Preparations for the Long Dark are underway. There was some disagreement about the arrangements for Inleio’s family fields, but Koda brought the various claimants together in the end. The animal territories are a mess, but you know that already. All else is as you’d expect, although more fearful—the people remember last year too well.”

“Call for a meeting tonight of all the hunters; we’ll share our news then.”

“The tournament was a success?”

“A bit,” Mumu said, her smile firming.

She’d arranged for messages to travel with the merchants who visited Voorhei weekly, so the hunters here were aware of some news, but not the most recent.

Kesa eyed the lodge master for a couple of long beats. Some of the rigidity in her face and shoulders seemed to fall away. “You’ve grown, our Mumu.”

“I... We all had to.”

“To replace the hole Inleio left behind,” Kesa said.

But Mumu shook her head. “To make our own way, find our own paths.”

Word of our return spread, and we were greeted by a throng of villagers at the gate. They clustered around the adults, which gave Teila and me the opportunity to slip away. She came with me as I searched among the people nearby.

Then I heard them yelling for me.

Billisha dashed from between two longhouses, Aluali on her heels and Bihei not far behind him. I grabbed Billisha first and swung her around. Then Aluali clamped onto me, and I twirled them both. They only let go once they spotted Teila, which let Bihei move in to pick me up for a hug. Whatever reluctance the widow might’ve once felt to join in these displays of affection had vanished long ago. The five of us were a mess of laughter and tears.

Our reunion was interrupted when the village’s leadership team showed up to officially welcome back the returning hunters. Koda and Dwilla looked immensely relieved, as if their lives had depended on us coming back, which actually might’ve been the case.

During the last Long Dark, Sheedi had been the only one in the village capable of using area-affecting magic. Now that Mumu was lodge master, Haol redeemed of his slacker image, and Tegen with access to mana magic, we’d be bringing three more advanced magic users to the fight.

The land knight had also agreed to send two teams to support us, but we didn’t know their composition—and besides, strangers to the village would never be as dependable as those born there. Not even me, from the looks of things. The crowd continued to press Mumu, Haol, and Tegen for reassurances that everything would now be all right.

Tegen’s status in the village had already been high, but I noticed several appreciative looks thrown his way. Odds were, he’d find a few more people looking to marry into his family soon.

Miri arrived to welcome Teila home, the woman practically glowing with pleasure. Her daughter’s future had already been bright, and now was positively scintillating. Ahlrein was on duty on the other side of the village, but Miri let Teila know that he was also proud of her.

And then Dena came hurrying, the crowd parting for her, so that she could wrap Haol in her arms, kissing him deeply. She reached over to pull Mumu in, and then it was her turn to be kissed, just as passionately. The three of them were almost too intimate to watch, and I heard amused laughter from the surrounding villagers. Nothing more than that, though. They knew not to rile Dena. Haol’s wife, Mumu’s fiancé, could be a force of nature all on her own.

Anyway, Koda turned on the Charm to get everyone’s attention, and he said a few words to welcome us back. I didn’t hear any of it, focused as I was on checking my family for signs of anything untoward having happened while I was away.

Until finally, it was time to go back to our longhouse, rest for a while, catch up in person, and, oh by the way, tell them I was now dawn. As we left the lingering crowd, I contained my smile as best I could.

Ikfael flopped on the longhouse floor, visibly glad to be out of the figurine. She’d head back to the Glen on her own later that evening, but for the time being she’d rest with my family. I caught her smirking as she watched them listening raptly to me telling them about becoming dawn.

All three jaws dropped. Their eyes grew big with astonishment. Then nothing. They just stared, and I relished—relished!—in how the news had broken them. Bihei gulped. Billi and Ali glanced at each other, then turned back toward me.

“But—”

“What?”

“How?”

“That’s—”

Yes, yes, I gloried in their reactions. My grin hurt from spreading so wide.

Bihei scooted over to hold my hand. “Is it true? You’re not playing a game with us.”

I nodded. “Mumu can confirm it. Mostly, the gains came from the golden slumber we’d handed to the alchemists to process, but there were also... ah... some things happened that I didn’t tell you about. Remember Banan and Kuros?”

The light in my children’s eyes changed. The shock and admiration turned into something harsher.

“Yes,” they both said carefully.

Well, let’s just say the rest of the reunion with my family didn’t go so easily. I was scolded for taking too many dangerous risks until my ears turned red.

I pulled myself away from my family to attend the meeting at the Hunter’s Lodge. There, from beginning to end, Mumu recounted the story of the hunt for Borba and its aftermath. All the public parts, anyway.

The hunters listened with rapt attention. They’d heard some of the story already from those that had returned earlier and the messages Mumu had sent, but it was different coming from the lodge master in person—more official, somehow. Hers would be the narrative recorded and passed down through the years, so that future hunters might learn from our experiences.

Mumu also made clear our lodge’s gratitude to Ikfael. All the hunters would be expected to make pilgrimages to her shrine in the spring to offer supplementary gifts.

We would also continue to organize the Tournament of Masks for as long as Ikfael was willing. The lodge’s debt would eventually be paid off, and after that the tournament would become a source of great abundance for us. Maybe too much so. The sums we’d be dealing with were inconceivable to the average villager. That was a problem for the future, though.

Mumu then broke the news of me becoming dawn, and I empathized with the emotional whiplash of the people listening. There’d been so much good and bad mixed together in the story she’d told.

The hunters had questions, a multitude of them, including around the criteria for who’d get Ikfael’s Boon in the future, but Mumu held firm in delaying any decisions about it until after the Long Dark.

We had the time—the boon wouldn’t be available to our lodge until Ithia’s and Iseld’s people had had a turn—and she didn’t want the hunters doing something stupid to prove their worthiness for it.

Eventually, she transitioned into planning for the Long Dark, and I mostly listened. They were the experts, but I did contribute when I thought something from my previous life might help. The village had a standard plan already, though, and all it needed was tweaking based on the variables available—namely those with access to extraordinary talents or magics.

For example, Sheedi couldn’t conjure fire, but she could amplify and wield it like a weapon. So, during each Long Dark after she’d arrived in Voorhei, the village had maintained extra bonfires for her at strategic points along the wall. They’d also spread pitch and oil along the berms so that she could light from afar.

Mumu had started learning the Thousand Spears spell after the kalihchi bear hunt, and that was primarily what she would contribute to any big engagements. Haol had picked up Thousand Arrows at around the same time, and Tegen had started on Unbroken Shield and Hunter’s Call in Albei almost as soon as he’d gotten access to mana magic. That had been ambitious on his part—learning two new advanced spells like that—but he’d been convinced he could do it.

Hunter’s Call increased the feeling of power within a person, thereby drawing hungry creatures to them, while Unbroken Shield was an area protection spell. Actually, it was even cooler than it sounded—the spell had two modes: one where you strongly shield yourself, and the other where you cover yourself and your allies with a weaker level of protection. Between the two spells, he’d be able to defend Mumu and Haol so that they could focus on attacking.

The three of them would form the core of an extended team of hunters who’d sally out from behind the village’s walls to wreak havoc among any besieging forces. As for Teila and me, she’d stay behind to support the defenders, while I would join the sally group.

If Tegen was going to focus on protecting Mumu and Haol, someone needed to defend him. My spells didn’t have the same scope as the others—not yet, anyway—but Lightning Hands should be able to handle anything that came close, or at least create openings for Mumu and Haol to handle them. I could also act as our hidden ace if something needed to get stabbed in the back.

All in all, the meeting lasted until about eleven in the evening, with people lingering afterward to congratulate me, ask about the tournament, and/or wrangle additional details about “what really happened” with Banan and Kuros. There was an unexpectedly grisly fascination with their deaths. A new respect too for Mumu and Haol for defending me.

Afterward, Mumu and I visited Inleio’s ghost. We found him watching the village from the door of his longhouse. The interior had been cleaned, the blood scrubbed away, and the furniture righted, but it still felt wrong somehow. The absences echoed too strongly.

There was a look of expectation on Inleio’s face. Mumu’s too, for that matter. The two of them watched as I drew a knife and poked a hole through Tenna’s Gift.

“Well?” They both asked, their voices overlapping.

“It’s done,” I said to Inleio. “He’s here,” to Mumu.

“You gave Borba his rest?” Inleio pressed.

I took a long breath, then nodded. “Yes.”

What came next would be tricky, since both my friends needed closure. I’d have to thread the needle of providing enough information to satisfy Inleio without contributing to his attachment to life. As for Mumu, she’d have to let go of her attachment to him; otherwise it’d make it harder for him to let go.

“Tell him about Ithia’s judgement and the tournament too,” she said. “He’ll want to know.”

Right, nothing but the whole story would satisfy him. Anything less, and he’d wonder what he was missing. So, for the umpteenth time that day, the events in Albei were recounted, and while Inleio’s face remained stoic throughout, his spirit couldn’t hide his surging emotions.

The fight with Borba, the troubles with the Healer’s Lodge, the tournament, the collaboration with Kila, and the alliances with the alchemists, Iseld, and Ithia—I held nothing back, but I also made sure to highlight all the times we’d had risen to meet the challenges we’d faced, how we’d relied on each other and our allies, and how we’d met violence with bloody-handed violence.

My team and I had all grown in the time we’d been away. Tremendously so thanks to Ikfael’s Boon, the news of which delighted Inleio. Unlike the others we’d told the story to, though, he was unsurprised to learn I’d become dawn. All I felt was a sense of satisfaction touched with a hint of pride. Which only grew when he turned his gaze toward Mumu.

She’d witnessed everything of course, at least my side of the interaction, urging me to include bits she thought I'd missed. Her hunger for his approval was naked on her face, a vulnerability that was rare to see in our Mumu.

I worried it’d invite him to linger, but I should’ve trusted her more.

Once the story was done, she began to explain her reasoning for the decisions she’d made, gesturing for me to translate. She talked about her concerns, as well as her fears and hopes for herself and the lodge. Her eyes shone as she spoke until, with a shuddering breath, she wished him well and said goodbye.

She’d recognized that this was her last chance to sit with Inleio, and had taken it.

He must’ve too, because he whispered, “The village prospers.”

I thought Inleio might be tempted to stay through the Long Dark to see how the village fared, but no… he simply faded away. We’d proven ourselves, and he trusted it to our good hands.

Mumu and I wept, but we’d both known this moment was coming. They were healthy tears.

Over the next few days, the pace of village life never slowed, and people alternated between their militia duties and preparations for the winter. I was exempted from both and told to focus on mastering my new path. The odds were slim that I’d learn anything substantial without a lot more time and experimentation, but any gains would be better than none.

In a month’s time, once the Long Dark began, we’d have to last five days during which the light within everything living ran amok. They’d feel a hunger for power, mana would stop regenerating, and qi would recover at half its usual rate. The light would only return to normal at midnight of the winter solstice, at which point the survivors would gain five Silverlight for their troubles and be considered a year older.

Seasonally, a severe cold snap was expected in the next couple of days; then, about a week before the start of the Long Dark, there’d be a drastic rise in temperatures until it was almost summer-like, only to drop again to a normal winter climate after the solstice.

Some of the more sensitive villagers already complained of the “itchies,” the feeling when the light within them grew restless. And as the days passed, more and more people joined them. As a result, they were grumpier than usual, and Koda seemed to be everywhere defusing arguments and making sure people stayed on task.

Even my family bickered. But they’d been through this before, and took it all in stride. If anything, I was complimented for how well I handled the disruptions in the flow of light, but the answer was simple: I didn’t feel what everyone else complained about. My hunger for light grew, and I found myself recalling the silverlight from powerful creatures—the bishkawi alpha, the kalihchi bear, the hellmouth, and the golden slumber—but there was no itchiness.

Eventually, the weather turned hard, with temperatures dropping well below freezing. Snow blanketed the fields, the stakes looking unnatural on the unblemished snow until they too were covered over. The militia added clearing the village paths to their duties.

Yuki and I made progress in understanding the Rain Call spell’s components. Mostly, it depended on body power, with healthy doses of air and water mana, as well as qi to act as the binding agent. Interestingly, the filaments running through my spine acted similarly to the body-power emulator Yuki had developed for the Blink spell.

We wasted a day painfully trying to run Blink through my spine. It didn’t go well, but at least Teila got to practice her Healing Water on me, over and over and over again.

Then, like clockwork, ten days before the solstice, five days before the Long Dark began, temperatures rose dramatically, melting the snow at an astonishing rate and leaving behind a muddy mess. The villagers worked like the possessed to fix up their defenses—sublimating all their fear, anxiety, anger, and hunger into their work.

That night, the first of the “false summer,” I lay in bed worrying. The rest of my family were next to me, exhausted and huddled together in one bed, each pretending to sleep. Yuki was in the background, looking for ways to integrate with the new structure in my spine, but the filaments resisted their tampering. Their efforts simply slid off.

Yuki didn’t relent, though. It was how they dealt with their own fear for the safety of Bihei and the kids. Creatures could and did get past village defenses. It happened all the time.

A soft chime roused me from my thoughts. A notification popped up:

Error Resolved

Investigation has revealed that the unusual circumstances were, in fact, not an error. Access to the relevant soul marks has resumed. Thank you for your patience.

Um, what?

My confusion got Yuki’s attention, and the two of us puzzled over the message together. There’d been no notifications previously about an error, and I also didn’t feel anything different now that the situation had apparently been “resolved.” All I could do was to check the soul marks themselves to see if the tooltips had updated.

Memories of Another World, Mana Door, and Way of the Hunter remained unchanged. The issue seemed to have been with Dawn. There hadn’t been a tooltip before, but now there was:

Dawn

The Path to Perfection begins. This soul mark establishes the starting point. From here, walker, the path is yours to determine.

Well, “proper” might not have been the best way to describe the tooltip. “Obtuse” or “unhelpful” would’ve been more apt. Oh well, nothing had really changed as a result. My worries were still my worries.

For form’s sake, I checked the two perpetually loading soul marks. God Touched continued to be indecipherable, but then to my shock I saw…

Spontaneous Formation

Under the watchful gazes of the gods, a fragment of another world has been brought into this one. Shaped and protected, a soul bypassed the restrictions on incarnation, creating the conditions for the embodiment of a being entirely free of darklight. The full impact of this act remains to be seen.

Oh.

47

The Long Dark I

Early in our relationship, Ikfael had told me that the gods give gifts with ten hands, meaning they always had more than one purpose for everything they did. Diriktot had brought me to this world after I’d died to show his gratitude for introducing him to cell phones. What else he’d intended—the other nine hands—had remained a mystery, at least until this tooltip.

I thought about the Deer God, then wondered if him tagging along was an accident. Or maybe Diriktot had been angling for a two-for-one special: a human being and an earth god, both free of darklight.

All of creation was supposed to be one big elaborate mechanism for filtering the stuff on behalf of the Imperfect God. And somehow I had a role in that? If so, I wasn’t clear on it. Diriktot’s only instruction, as near as I could tell from the glimpses I’d gotten of him, was to enjoy my new life.

No quests presented themselves. No callings either, except for the ones I’d brought with me. The only expectations were my own and my community’s. Maybe that would change as I moved along the Path to Perfection, but for now it seemed I was off the hook for... well, I wasn’t sure what the gods would even want from me.

Hello, anyone out there? I asked.

‘Just us,’ Yuki responded.

I didn’t hear anyone else—not even the Deer God. It was only Yuki and me in my head. And the phone too, I supposed, which made me quietly chuckle. By my old world’s standards, that was already crowded enough.

I checked for more surprises and found a new widget on the phone’s home screen: a weather report. Apparently, the next day would bring a high of seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit and a low of forty-three. Winds of approximately ten to twelve miles per hour were expected from the northeast, with a minimal chance of showers in the early morning.

I laughed then, helplessly and silently to keep from disturbing my family, at the ridiculousness of everything. In five days, my home was going to be attacked, and my new path was giving me a weather report in preparation for it.

Billisha turned over to look at me. “Eight, are you all right?”

The others stopped pretending to sleep, their own worries rising to mar their beautiful spirits. They checked on me to make sure I was well. Which I was, truly. The soul mark didn’t mean anything. It would have no impact—not on the Long Dark and not on what I did from day to day.

I was blessed with talents beyond good sense, as well as with friends and family. Really, the life that Diriktot had gifted me, it was... well, it was a full one, wasn’t it? Full of joy and hardships both. And I was facing both head on as they arose.

“We’ll be okay,” I said, and meant every word.

The next day, the land soldiers arrived. The two teams each featured a war-dog-and-rider pair, supported by four soldiers on foot. Their spirits were sharp and attentive, their gear in good order, and their talents solid. Overall, they smelled of competence.

Knight Ithia didn’t do us dirty; she’d kept her side of the agreement. The village was already blessed to have a dog rider, and now there’d be two more for the Long Dark. Everyone was thrilled.

And man, it was really something to see the dogs introduced to each other through tumbling play. The air vibrated with their yips and growls. It was like standing next to the speakers at a club—you felt the sounds in your heart. Pretty soon, though, they were put to work, practicing their integration with the village’s hunter and militia teams.

Those not training alongside the land soldiers focused on fortifying their longhouses. The windows were boarded up, and the already-sturdy doors reinforced. Spikes were attached to the rooftops to keep aerial invaders at bay, then boards were laid down along the evacuation routes in case it rained. There was no chance of that according to the weather report, yet people did it anyway, sticking to their traditions with religious fervor.

This close to the Long Dark, it was too dangerous to send out scouts, but our hunters kept busy anticipating the most-likely threats. The King of the Forest’s death had left a power vacuum in the area, and the wildlife nearby had been clashing on and off for months.

There was also a chance that one of the big snakes living under the escarpment would come up looking for easy prey. We didn’t have actual intelligence on those, though. Our only information on them was drawn from the lodge’s records. Apparently, the deep caves under the escarpment were incredibly dangerous.

And then there were the wild cards—individual creatures who’d gained enough power or weird talents to become true threats. There was no way to prepare for every variable, but we had contingency plans, including a full retreat into the village’s pyramid if needed. There was enough space, food, and water down there to support the whole village for seven days. It’d likely mean having to rebuild the village afterward, but better that than a massacre.

When I asked why people didn’t just preemptively shelter in the pyramid, I was told the story of a burrower who had once gotten inside. It’d taken years for the village to recover afterward.

Then, the last day before the Long Dark, we spread pitch across the berms, applied poison to the stakes, and cleared the leg breakers of any stray rubble. Arrows were put into buckets along the wall-walk, as well as extra spears. At regular intervals were also stacks of firewood, bandages, food, and drink.

As evening fell, the air became thinner, like I’d gone up in elevation. People snapped at each other, but somehow continued working. Meanwhile, all I could think about was how good a steak would taste, my mouth salivating even after I stuffed it with jerky.

Those expected to fight tried to sleep, and some managed to, despite the itchies. I was too amped up, too hungry for light. At midnight, the Long Dark would begin. We didn’t expect an attack right away—it’d take time for the truly dangerous creatures to sense the village and make their way here—but we’d be on the walls anyway, just in case.

Midnight came, and I felt my world turn upside down, the pit of my stomach rising. My mana bubbled as if it were boiling, and my qi rumbled, although not quite as hard. My muscles ached, and I felt hot, then started to perspire heavily.

All around was a discordant symphony of brays, grunts, cries, and screeches—both from inside and outside the village. The spirits of the trees grew anxious, and all the birds lifted into the air in one panicked movement. It was like a giant had pounded the ground, the impact lifting the birds like debris. Once in the air though, a portion took off for parts unknown, while the rest dove back down into hiding.

Not every creature would fall into the Long Dark’s madness; the majority would hide, hoping to outlast it. But the more light they’d absorbed, especially darklight, then the higher the chances of them losing themselves to the hunger.

Yuki seemed fine, for example. ‘The easiest year ever,’ they said. Which was no doubt connected to our symbiotic relationship, and maybe even my Spontaneous Formation soul mark, but right then wasn’t the time and place for philosophical meanderings.

We merged to check on Snow, but the blynx and her kittens were safely hidden away in the cave at the Glen. The silver wolves were there too, and all of them seemed to have weathered the shift in light okay. Ikfael and Leiluminwei weren’t nearby, but Snow indicated that she’d seen the otter disappear into the water earlier in the day. All the construction workers for the shrine had returned to Albei about a week prior.

We pulled our attention back to Voorhei and separated when a clamor arose from an ox smashing into a longhouse wall below. It was supposed to have been hobbled and blindfolded like all the other domesticated animals, but it’d gotten free of its ties. The family that owned it cursed as they struggled amidst their own discomfort to capture it again.

Nearby, the dog riders whispered in their mounts’ ears, but the dog’s spirits were stoic. None of them were pups; they were veterans and knew in their bones what to expect.

The Long Dark had begun.

Eventually, the raucousness diminished as the creatures nearby got used to the discomfort, only for the sounds to be replaced by a series of soft chimes from the eastern side of the village. It was the alarm system at work—running on the mana contributed by villagers throughout the year—and it signified that a handful of low-levels had crossed the boundary there. Then a louder chime came, this one more urgent, as something bigger and/or higher level approached.

Kesa’s team was stationed out that way. It was also technically the more civilized side, with Albei and the other villages farther to the east. The threats there likely wouldn’t be as significant as the western gate, where my team was stationed.

I strained my ears anyway, and it was quiet for a couple of long minutes until I heard the tell-tale crack of a single Spiral Pierce. Then, when that didn’t appear to be enough, there came the flash of a Spark, another Spiral Pierce, and silence. Word came later, passed along by runners, that it’d been a chliapp lion chasing after smaller prey.

The air above us chimed, and I spotted a kettle of vultures winging toward the east. Their dark feathers would’ve made them invisible against the night sky if not for my spirit eyes. They appeared to just be traveling over us, which I relayed to the others around me. Haol saw them too and confirmed my assessment.

Individual pings sounded from the north and south, but nothing there apparently warranted spell use. The southern approach had surprised me, since a river bounded the village wall there, but it was possible the creature had forded across or maybe even come from the water.

A hand at my elbow startled me from my intense concentration, but it was just Mumu.

“Breathe,” she said. “You’ll tire yourself holding so much tension. Be alert, focus on our side of the wall, and let the others focus on theirs.”

I took a long breath and intentionally relaxed my shoulders, the grip on my bow, and the scowl that’d formed on my face.

“Better,” she said, then turned her own attention back to gazing out across the fields below the west gate.

At 2:00 AM, a cete of fire badgers triggered a dong from the alarm system in the area northwest of the gate. The only reason I recognized the beasts at that distance was because the one in front was the size of a midsize sedan. A big boy like that should’ve been spotted by the lodge’s patrols weeks ago, but we’d been short-staffed and creatures tended to get restless in the run up to the Long Dark. They liked to travel.

Whatever the reason, he was here now.

Fire Badger Alpha (Animal, Dawn)

Talents: Smells Like Victory, Tenacious, Clan Leader, Claws Like Knives

There were six other badgers with him, including two whose talents indicated they could spit fire. As Haol called out the numbers, I pointed out the dangerous ones. A quick huddle around Mumu determined that we’d try our arrows first. If that didn’t work, we’d sally out against them. We also called Sheedi over, though, just in case.

The issue wasn’t the stone walls, but the wooden portions of the gate. We had to keep the badgers’ fire from damaging them.

Haol was our best shot, and he managed to take out the smaller badgers one by one, infuriating the alpha. Mumu targeted the big boy, but when her regular arrows didn’t penetrate his fur, she turned the responsibility over to me—the person on the team with the deepest qi well and fastest recovery rate.

Two points' worth went into the bow, another into the arrow, and then I ran the qi through me, coalescing it into a Spiral Pierce. I firmed my core, stabilized my shoulders, drew, and sighted the raging badger. Brief licks of flame appeared within his mouth.

Facing the beast, I didn’t have a chance at a heart shot or anything else equally lethal, and I also didn’t trust myself to hit an eye at this distance. The Spiral Pierce built and built, spinning faster and faster, sharper and sharper, until it screamed at me for release.

Bang! The arrow shot from my bow, billowing my hair.

I missed the jaw and hit the chest instead. Badgers didn’t have sternums like humans did, but there was a thin layer of bone that protected the sac of their fire oil. It looked like I punctured it.

The badger screamed and thrashed, though I didn’t waste time in getting another arrow nocked. Mumu put a hand on my arm to keep me from drawing.

“The poison might be enough.”

I nodded and watched along with the others as the badger hissed and fought against the chishiaxpe venom now in his body. He rolled up against one of the berms, catching on the stakes there. Moments later, Sheedi came riding over on horseback and climbed up to where we stood on the wall.

“Fire badger,” Haol reported, and she nodded in understanding.

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I might’ve punctured the fire oil sac.”

From the south came a flurry of dings, almost like a school of fish had decided to come visit, which knowing this world might actually have been the case. Sheedi looked that way, but there didn’t seem to be any messengers rushing over to get her.

So, frowning, she considered the badger once more. “I can throw fire that far, but I’d rather not light the pitch so early.”

“We could sally,” I suggested, “and put him out of his misery.”

“I’d have to go with you,” Sheedi said.

Nobody around us seemed to like that idea, but if Sheedi stayed mounted it meant she could flee if the situation turned on us.

“The badger might also die on his own,” Tegen said.

Haol had never taken his eyes off the field, and his voice cut in, “There’s something in the trees.”

The tension in me that had started to ease, ratcheted up again. Whatever Haol had spotted, the trees blocked its spirit from view, and it apparently had the wherewithal to wait patiently. That was never a good trait in an opponent, and I clearly wasn’t the only one to think so. Frowns spread as the others also looked.

“No sally until we know what’s there,” Mumu said.

“And the badger?” I asked.

“We don’t waste any more arrows or qi on him if we can help it.”

Sheedi walked to the nearest brazier to grab a ball of fire to cup in her hands. “I’ll wait here for the time being.”

Mumu bowed. “Our gratitude, World Speaker.”

The fire alpha badger lived up to his Tenacious talent. He slowly pulled himself past the stakes and down from the berm, crawling toward the walls. At about fifty yards out, he paused to rest, then resumed crawling, only to pause again after about fifteen feet. His spirit fluttered, and as he came closer, I saw that it was synchronized with his rapid panting. The uphill climb to the village slowed him even more.

A greedy lodge would’ve gone out to get him. The alpha was a big bag of money and light, and yet no one seriously considered it. Even though we could be out there and back in a matter of minutes, the watcher in the woods kept us behind our walls.

“There’s more than one,” Haol said. “The first was joined by two more.”

“A pack or herd of some kind?” Mumu asked.

“I can’t tell yet.” Haol replied.

“How are you even seeing anything?” I asked, annoyed. I mean, he was Keen-Eyed, but it wasn’t supposed to be that special of a talent, and the boundary on this side of the village was about three quarters of a mile away. I could’ve cast Hawk’s Eye, but didn’t want to burn the qi, so all I saw was the angry-disturbed-chaotic rustling of the trees.

And then the forest erupted two or three miles to the southwest. The trees went nuts, their spirits rising in wrathful indignation as a pillar of flame rose into the night sky. For a moment, it looked like the flare atop an oil rig before disappearing. It flashed again periodically afterward.

Sheedi watched on, the fire in her hands reflected in her eyes. “I’ll be sticking to this side of the wall, I think.”

The badger crawled to within twenty yards of the wall before finally dying. At around four in the morning, the battle in the forest to the southwest came to an end. Shortly after, the forest to the northwest shook with the sound of an explosion, like someone using dynamite.

The village’s alarm rang several times to the east and northeast, but nothing too concerning. Haol reported that the number of hidden watchers west of us had gone back down to one. Then that one also faded back into the forest; we thought it might be a trap, so we held our positions for another hour before risking a hurried retrieval of the fire badger alpha. The militia hauled the body back to the lodge the moment we were back inside the gate.

Dawn brought a measure of peace, long enough for several of us to take turns napping and get a bite to eat. The meal was simple: smoked pork and pickled vegetables over corn porridge.

At about ten in the morning, a convocation of giant eagles was spotted heading toward the escarpment to the west. They must’ve seen something that changed their mind, though, because partway through their flight they wheeled toward the village instead.

“Five!” Haol yelled.

And I followed with a loud, “Confirmed!”

Drums pounded to warn of an aerial attack. The alarm system would’ve been too late, since flying invaders could potentially pass through the boundary and be within the village in moments.

The eagles winged past the village to the north, then turned to approach from the east with the sun at their backs. My team and I were already sprinting for the stairs, as the militia came running to take our places on the wall.

More of them scrambled to take their positions atop the longhouses. They sat among the spikes and prepared their bows. The kids who’d been working as messengers got under cover, their faces blank under the influence of Meliune’s Blessing. My family’s children were somewhere out there too. Each had a portion of Yuki within them, so I knew they were safe.

The dog riders were already gone, dashing for the village’s center. The eagles should be heading toward the pyramid, the village’s dasekua drawing their attention.

Mumu called back toward me: “What was in the enemies’ spirits?”

“None are above Level 5. I see talents for sharp minds, beaks, and claws. Nimbleness in the air. Nothing that attacks at range.”

Even while dashing through the village, she calculated the risks posed and resources available. “Your qi well?”

“It’s full again,” I said.

“Then go. Tegen too. Call out if the riders aren’t enough.”

‘We’ll do it,’ Yuki said, and their Dog’s Agility spun through me, propelling me ahead of my team.

Tegen was only a heartbeat behind as the longhouses blurred past, our feet flying along the smooth planks lining the paths. I nearly stumbled, though, when Yuki said, ‘Snow reports an incursion at the Glen, but Moonlight raised an illusion of a wall to hide the cave.’

They’re okay?

‘So far. Leiluminwei has returned, and the wolves are conferring with him.’

Tell me if anything changes.

‘Of course.’

The buildings turned from wood to stone. I passed Ghitha’s old house, Dwilla’s place, and the Farmer’s Lodge, then took the steps up the pyramid two at a time. In the meanwhile, the giant eagles had spread out, no longer clustered together.

The hunters at the eastern wall shot at one. They bracketed her with their arrows to counter her aerial acrobatics, and I saw several hit the target. The giant bird spiraled into one of the longhouses with a thud, where the militia immediately swarmed her with their spears.

In the village, though, we couldn’t use poison arrows. The risk of friendly fire was too great when the arrows came back down to earth. Lances and spears, however, were another matter, and the dog riders at the pyramid’s peak were using theirs against an eagle trying to get inside.

The eagle batted his wings to knock them away, but a war dog got her teeth around one, her neck jerking a split-second later to break the bones. The other dogs rushed in to savage the opposite wing and tear the eagle’s throat out.

The riders jumped from their saddles to get free of the melee. All of them were small, light enough to not burden their mounts. That also meant they were tempting targets for flyers.

As I arrived, an eagle swooped in with claws extended to grab one of the riders, and my spear joined with theirs in keeping her at bay. Magic pulsed from Tegen, and it was as if the whole world suddenly turned its attention toward him. The eagle spun impossibly, the air somehow complicit in the feat, and she dove at Tegen instead. In return, he spent qi like it was water, to receive her with Collaut’s Hide and Iron Heart. Oh, there was a wicked look in his eyes too, just as sharp as his spear.

Tegen ducked and stabbed, catching the eagle in the thigh. I spun a Spiral Pierce spell and was only a beat slower, my spear striking deep into her undefended back. That grounded her, forcing out an awkward, high-pitched call.

Three down, I thought, as the dogs converged on her.

I looked for the remaining eagles. If the pyramid hadn’t drawn them, the Hunter’s Call certainly should have. I wiped the sweat from my eyes, yet didn’t see them in the air. A shout came from the southeast, so we took off running. The dog riders caught up quickly, and then bounded ahead.

Above the longhouses, we spotted an eagle winging away with a small figure in his claws. The militia nearby shot at him, the air filling with arrows, but the wind carried him higher and faster than expected.

I felt a pit in my stomach, watching the eagle escape. Yuki pushed, and my meridians heated up painfully as they and I demanded more from my qi. Dog’s Agility pulled me ahead of Tegen, and he grunted trying to keep up.

More voices shouted, and they drew me. One I recognized clearly: Old Wahashtei. His militia team was positioned by the broken well two blocks over from my house. I veered in that direction.

The longhouses blew by, and my steps pounded on the wooden planks. I passed through a plaza, and at the far end I saw Wahashtei throw himself at a giant eagle, interposing his spear in front of a young boy. Another militia member was down, decapitated.

What had happened? Why was the child outside? And then I noticed the wreckage of the longhouse behind them. It’d been carved open and the interior exposed. In my peripheral vision, blank-faced children dashed away.

The dog riders didn’t know the village—they’d gone the wrong way.

Before I could reach them, the giant eagle’s claws cut through Wahashtei and his spear like they were nothing. The young boy ran, but the eagle hopped over to catch him in a claw. Then, the animal’s wings lifted him powerfully into the air. He hopped again, grabbed Wahashtei’s torso with his other claw, and took off.

The eagle must’ve seen Tegen and me, because he immediately dropped out of view behind the carved-up longhouse. Even with Dog’s Agility, my legs pumping, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with his escape. I had to cut him off somehow. The other eagle had gone southeast. Would this one too?

I tacked to change direction, dropped my spear, and pulled my bow from its sling. The arrows shook in their quiver, jostled by the sprinting. My breathing came fast and hard, and there was a stitch in my side. The qi from Dog’s Agility offset some but not all of the body’s needs.

More longhouses passed, and I heard shouting from ahead. I ran that way, turned a corner, and spotted the eagle flying low to the ground, veering around a well.

Endless practice let me nock an arrow, and I drew, but it took precious seconds to come to a stop, to stabilize my body, and to lock my breathing so that I could fire with precision. Tegen didn’t have to worry about that. He sprinted past, his bow cracking with the sound of his Spiral Pierce.

The eagle rolled, and his arrow flew past. My own shot was slow—I’d taken too long. The eagle disappeared up and over another longhouse. My arrow shattered against the wall behind it.

We gave chase again, Tegen and I, but never caught up. The people at the walls fired on the eagle when he suddenly soared over them, but in the end he managed to escape.

Gulping in lungfuls of air, I saw him wing away. My Status camera showed that the boy in his claws was already dead. There was nothing more we could do.

I fought to bring my breathing under control, my fists clenched around my bow. I couldn’t help myself. It was impossible to hit every target. I knew that—every hunter knew that—but maybe if I’d practiced the lodge’s style of archery more, I could’ve taken the shot while on the run.

There were bound to be causalities during the Long Dark. Everyone I’d spoken to had made that clear. No matter how well we’d planned and how well we executed those plans—life on Diaksha was vicious. It surprised you, ambushed you, and would do anything it could to claw the life and light out of you. It was impossible to escape the Long Dark unscathed.

As the eagle became a dot in the sky, I felt sick to my stomach. The poor families—

Tegen gripped my shoulder. “We do what we can,” he said, his voice soft. “This is a world of striving, and so we do, in spite of everything it sends at us.”

His words were meant to help me feel better, but I didn’t.

48

The Long Dark II

It was the second day, a little after three in the afternoon, and I hadn’t slept more than four hours in the past sixty. What rest I’d managed to get had been snatched when and where I could. On the other hand, the more experienced militia members had all developed a knack for sleeping through the alarms affecting the other sections of the wall.

That wasn’t something I could do yet. Every time the alarm rang or every time the drums beat, I startled awake. My eyes were gummy, and my face felt plastic.

Previously, the longest I’d ever gone without sleep was four days, but that had been as a young man, crewing an adaptation of Don Quixote at the Farrow. The hotel had been in the middle of renovating at the time and had given us access for four days—just four, for us to film everything. It’d been a caffeine-and-adrenaline-fueled blast.

I dragged my attention back to the present to stare out at the fields below. The village’s defenses were holding up, with only a section of the berms to the northwest disrupted. The ground had been turned over and the stakes were now splayed in all directions.

The truly frightening thing was that we didn’t even know what’d caused the damage. The creature had traveled under the earth, the ground rolling above it. The alarm had rung and the drums pounded to warn of the underground threat. Then, for a long, heart-stopping moment, the creature paused within the village’s boundary as if considering us before moving on. Eventually, the villagers had climbed down from the rooftops to go back to what they’d been doing.

My straying thoughts were interrupted by a ding from the east, followed shortly by an alarm of the same level from the north. Both repeated and steadily kept repeating over the next couple of minutes, like a herd of animals were crossing the village boundary in both places, single file.

After a couple dozen dings in both spots, I anxiously awaited the call to reinforce the walls there, but the drums didn’t sound. Instead, a messenger came running over, and yelled up to us, “It’s elk, one to each side, bounding back and forth across the line.”

“How did they look?” Mumu yelled back.

“Bloodied.”

Mumu cursed under her breath.

“Are they testing the alarm?” I asked, incredulous.

“That’s probably true,” Mumu said, grim-faced. “It’s also likely their gang lost a fight badly enough that they were driven off their territory.”

“Meaning they’ll come here,” I said.

Mumu nodded. “If they’re seeking light to help with taking back their land… then yes.”

Time crawled past, and the alarm rang without stopping, a constant dinging that got on everyone’s nerves. The lack of sleep, the itchies, and now this? It was maddening, and I heard more than a few outbursts from the militia taking out their frustration on each other.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Koda, blood would’ve spilt. Voorhei was a good-sized village, but we weren’t so big that rivals wouldn’t sometimes be assigned to the same tasks. As far as I knew there weren’t any feuds like the one I’d witnessed in Albei—families throwing curses and wooden darts at each other—but if you put any group of people together for long enough, someone will eventually find beef with someone else. The village head seemed to be everywhere at once to keep the peace, or at least a semblance of it.

We couldn’t even shut down the alarm either. The village had done that once before in the past, and they’d paid for it when a skulk of foxes had used the strategy to sneak in. All we could do was outlast the elk, so we waited them out with nerves on edge.

Two hours later, I gritted my teeth and promised that, once the Long Dark was past, those goddamn elk were going to pay, even if it killed me.

The sun set, a ball of hazy orange light dropping past the escarpment, and the twilight shadows beneath the trees rustled. I was so caught up in my grudge against the elk that I didn’t notice, but Haol called out, “Movement.”

From the boundary, a dozen elk suddenly bounded forward in a confused charge. Several went straight into the stakes, and then kept going, unheeding of both the damage and the poison. Others stumbled over the leg breakers, and they too continued toward the walls. It was almost like they were being driven onward, and as they came closer, the wounds on them became clearer—exposed muscles and crushed ribs, gashes along their necks and bodies, and even one skull broken open.

I checked my Status camera, which confirmed my suspicion:

Desti Elk (Undead)

Talents: Jumper, Biter, Rage

I was in the process of checking one more—

Desti Elk (Undead)

Talents: Don’t Shove Me, Rain of the Steel Hooves, Rage

—when another twenty undead emerged from the trees. The hairs at the back of my neck lifted as I noted that they once again appeared in a line before charging forward. I’d only had a couple of encounters with the undead previously, but that was enough to know they didn’t normally behave that way.

‘Something is controlling them,’ Yuki said.

That really was what it looked like, so I scanned the trees but couldn’t see past their disturbed spirits. Still, it was a near certainty. “We’re dealing with a necromancer!”

Haol had already drawn his bow. “Confirmed! They are organized undead.”

As his arrow flew, Mumu ran to peer down into the kill box between the outer and inner gates. The dog riders and their supports were down there; they’d been waiting since the elk had first started messing with the alarm system. “Sally! Keep them away while we hunt for the necromancer,” she called.

Our village walls were only twenty feet tall, and desti elk were notorious for being able to leap great distances. They could conceivably make it to the top of the wall if we allowed them to get closer. Alive, fire might’ve kept them away, but it’d do nothing to frighten the undead.

Mumu rushed to my side. “Anything?”

I shook my head. “The trees are blocking me. I’ll need to get closer.”

“Then we sally too.”

With a gesture, she gathered the rest of the team, and we ran down to the gate. From outside came the sound of dogs baying. The land soldiers would be fighting in moments, so we gave them time to fully engage the invaders.

I tightened the straps on my gear and checked to make sure everything was in place. Mumu looked me and the others over, giving each of us a nod.

“Be swift,” she said. “Keep moving and let the dog riders handle the gang. Our priority is the necromancer. Any other strays are secondary unless they’re an immediate threat to the team. Understood?” Seeing us respond in the affirmative, she followed with: “Dog’s Agility.”

Then, the gates rose and we launched from them like greyhounds, our strides long, eating the ground as we sprinted downhill. The spell’s drive to run-do-act pushed me past my exhaustion and into delirious movement.

The world zipped past as we ran along the safe paths to avoid the leg breakers. The air smelled of pitch, oil, and the stink of rotting meat. In my peripheral vision, the war dogs tore into the undead.

I looked aside to catch a glimpse of Jesei, his jaws around an elk’s throat, worrying it back and forth. This was the same village dog who often wore a flower crown on his head—who let the children dance around him and carried them proudly on his back like a pony.

Here, he was an engine of destruction, while Musa hung on, leaning from his saddle to lay into the elk and using the long sharp spike of his war hammer to pierce their cores.

I felt a thrill of glee to see the elk suffer, as well as anticipation for when we reached the source of our troubles. We’d pierce the necromancer with our spears and arrows, gobbling his light to grow even stronger.

Which... which... was not the frame of mind you should take into a hunt, but we were moving fast-fast-fast, and my attention was needed on the path ahead or else I’d trip and break bones in the tumble. The glance toward the war dogs had been just that—a snapshot. The feelings in response would have to be dealt with later.

Still, my team was glorious as we ran toward the setting sun and the darkening woods below it. I directed us to where the spirits were most disturbed. Faintly at first but growing louder with every step, we heard a thumping beat from up ahead, as if the elk had their own drums in opposition to ours. Then, we plunged into the woods, Tegen preemptively casting his protective spells.

There, among the distressed trees, were a gang of five elk—live ones—thumping the trunk of a large oak with their hooves. A sixth elk stood to the side, watching. He still had his antlers, even though it was winter, and a sickly greenish light emanated from each of the points. They pulsed in time with the thumping hooves. There were maybe about another dozen elk past him, but it didn’t take a genius to tell which was the necromancer.

My team acted as one—Mumu and I dove at the elk with the antlers, Haol casting a Spiral Pierce arrow at the same time. Meanwhile, Tegen used his Hunter’s Call to disturb the drummers and focus them on him.

I snapped a quick look at the necromancer’s Status to make sure there wouldn’t be any surprises.

Desti Elk Alpha (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Born Loser, Turnabout Turncoat, Life Follows Death, Rage Against the Heavens

The confusing collection of talents caused a stutter in my steps—a recognition that obscure names implied complicated effects—but there was no time to decode their meanings.

Haol’s arrow took the necromancer in the eye. A beat later, Mumu thrust her spear, and her Spiral Pierce blasted into the elk. His ribcage splintered, the meat rippling as the spear shot all the way through his torso.

A shudder ran through the elk’s body, and he toppled over, except when we looked closer, we saw his rack of antlers was missing. The body’s coloring was different too, as was his size. A quick look revealed the necromancer was now standing at the periphery, along with the other elk. He bugled at us—a screeching wail—and the rest of the gang turned as one to face us.

I had a breath to realize the danger. I’d been wrong—so very wrong—about the number. Then approximately two dozen elk launched themselves at us. Only to meet a flight of Thousand Arrows from Haol. Each arrow carried a fragment of Spiral Pierce, punching through the frontrunners.

“Area attack,” Mumu yelled, and her spear multiplied into a deadly thicket upon which the elk threw themselves.

Haol had jumped aside to get clear, but I’d been sticking close to Mumu so I had to duck in behind her to make sure I wasn’t also caught in her Thousand Spears spell.

The phantom weapons only lasted a moment, the length of time of a spear thrust, and when they disappeared, the elk fell to the ground in a confused-wounded-dying mass. Their wailing bugles scratched at my ears, and I caught a random kick from one of the injured, hitting me in the upper back. The sharp pain sent me forward into Mumu, earning me a glance. I signed, “Okay,” and her spear struck once more, moving from elk to elk, throat to throat.

Then, a greenish-black haze arose from the bodies, causing the dead elk to get up again. Mumu switched to heart shots to disrupt their cores, and she sent me a different, more significant look.

I interposed the rising undead between me and the necromancer, then cast Camouflage once I was out of view. Yuki continued to feed my Dog’s Agility, letting me weave through the undead attempting to overwhelm my teammates. The shimmer of Tegen’s Unbroken Shield let me know that he’d joined the larger melee.

I spotted the alpha backing away from the fight, his eyes bulging and his nose flaring. The wind... the wind was coming from the northeast, so I’d have to swing around to get downwind. There wasn’t the time to spare, so I considered casting Scentless Hunter instead and taking a more direct approach. But Mumu and the others had already spent nearly half their mana in the fighting so far. It’d be better to conserve mine as much as possible. At the same time, if they were wounded because I was too slow, then we’d lose the mana to Healing Water anyway.

These thoughts sped through my mind, rushed by the adrenaline and the magic flowing through me. Hardly a second went by before I chose to cast Scentless Hunter, and Yuki prepared the Blink emulator in case the alpha had more surprises in him.

Forcing myself to breathe steadily, I crept closer to the necromancer, cast Anesthetic on a poisoned stiletto, and carefully-cautiously-slowly stabbed him in the belly from underneath. Once, twice, thrice, and then the scent of his own blood must’ve disturbed him, because he pranced away before turning to look behind him.

I held still, letting the land cover me. The necromancer spun around, alarmed, and then he stumbled as the chishiaxpe venom began to take effect. The sickly green cast of his antlers intensified, and suddenly the gang of undead elk rushed to surround him.

The damage had already been done, though. Backing away and finding a nearby oak tree, I climbed up to a low branch and watched as the alpha fell to his knees. I unslung my bow and nocked an arrow, but the elk surrounding him shielded him from a clean shot.

The alpha shook his head to clear it, and the light among his antlers flickered. Immediately, the edges of the gang around him frayed as a handful of the undead got free of his control. They took a couple of halting steps away, then madly dashed toward the oak I was perched in. They couldn’t see or smell me, but they sensed I was the person with the most light nearby.

That got the alpha’s attention, and he sent all his minions at the tree, jumping up at its limbs, slamming the trunk with their hooves—it was all I could do to hang on to the branch and avoid the crazy undead elk literally flying past me.

Haol shot the alpha in the head, but one of the injured elk replaced him. Mumu ran for his new location, but instead of going for a killing blow, she attacked his flank with a long cutting motion. That hit him, and then we knew—his displacement power only took effect if a strike inflicted a mortal wound.

Which was incredible, because it implied a divination component—the ability had a way to register future effects on present circumstances. But only for a short time in the future, or else the alpha wouldn’t have taken the stab wounds I’d inflicted or Mumu’s cut.

After that, all my team needed was time. The alpha was already poisoned and bleeding from the belly and the sides. While I jumped down and led the undead gang on a merry chase through the trees, Mumu, Haol, and Tegen stabbed him until he bled out.

At the very end, the alpha changed positions with three other elk, one after the other, but there was no escaping death. And my team was there to pull out his core immediately afterward to make sure he didn’t turn undead himself.

The few elk still living ran for it. The undead continued to chase after me, but I trailed them like a kite and let my team pick them off. We were eventually joined by the land soldiers. Then the militia arrived to help to deal with the bodies.

I made my way over to the alpha’s corpse to check his antlers, but I didn’t sense anything other than long channels leading deeper into the body. They were, in effect, antenna for a spell deeper inside, and I could tell it’d take more than a cursory examination to find it.

Teila and the first-aid crew met us as we limped through the gate. She took charge of me and made me lift my armor to expose the purpling skin on my back, the massive bruise from being kicked. I would’ve expected my ribs to snap like twigs from the hit like the one I’d taken, but nothing was broken according to Yuki.

Teila still forced me to sit for a treatment of Nature’s Spring. Thanks to her Wood-Wise talent, she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of qi. In the meantime, I checked on my dantians, but no matter how much I pushed, my qi continued to recover quite slowly, and my mana not at all. What I’d spent on Scentless Hunter and Anesthetic wouldn’t be coming back until after the Long Dark.

The rest of the team plopped down beside me. Runners brought rags soaked in hot water for us to clean up the blood and viscera covering us. Moments later, Musa and the other dog riders arrived. Then Sheedi, and minutes later the rest of the village’s leadership team.

While Teila worked on my back, I listened to the debrief/strategy session.

Desti elk were not known to stray into necromancy. We’d just gotten unlucky in that regard. Fortunately, the gang had been a small one, with only about forty to fifty elk in total. The situation could’ve been much worse, since in winter, elk gangs tended to merge. It wasn’t unusual for groupings of four to five hundred to form.

Which, honestly, was probably closer to this gang’s original size. Many of the elk, both the living and the dead, had arrived at our borders already wounded, which likely meant they were the remnants of a larger group that’d lost a fight.

Our best guess was that it’d been either another gang of elk or one of the musk oxen herds, both of whom were still out there. Wounded? Triumphant? Gorging on the light of their fallen enemies? I wondered.

In the past, the King of the Forest had forced the elk and the musk oxen to keep their heads down, but all bets were off now that he was dead.

“We should prepare as if they’re coming,” Mumu said to nods all around.

My fingers trembled from the adrenaline dropping from my system, as well as a blush of excitement too. I felt my face heat and my heart race. The feeling of rushing to meet the desti elk alpha with our spears had been intoxicating. Like the first drop of a roller coaster, except more. Like falling in love, but more. Like being hungry, and more.

This isn’t me, is it?

‘The Long Dark,’ Yuki said.

And everyone feels like this? The whole five days?

‘Worse, because there’s also the itchies, the fear, and everything else.’

But I don’t sense any of that from you?

‘It’s strange; we don’t understand it either. This has been the mildest Long Dark ever, and we can only attribute it to our relationship with you.’

Well, I don’t like feeling like this.

‘We’re sorry that nothing we’ve tried has helped. What’s happening is at the light level, out of reach.’

No, no. It’s not your fault. I’m not blaming you.

‘We know, but we’re still sorry.’

Yuki sent a wave of comfort, and I mirrored it back. If others could bear the discomfort associated with the Long Dark, then I could also learn to. Maybe if I managed to get some sleep after the meeting? Resolution in mind, I tuned back into the talks around me, but they were cut short.

A messenger brought news that someone had stabbed Dwilla’s father, a prominent farmer, causing her and Koda to hurry off. After that, a giant two-tailed fox had been spotted to the north, which drew away the dog riders and their supports.

“No rest during the Long Dark,” Musa said as he remounted.

But my team did their best to make him a liar. We sat with eyes closed—sometimes meditating, sometimes napping—for a whole forty minutes, before an alarm sounded from the west. Aching and worn, we picked ourselves up again.

49

The Long Dark III

In the early, early morning, I was wrapped in a blanket, tucked against the wall—not exactly cozy, but as comfortable as I could make myself. All around, the village's defenders were conked out. We’d gotten our first respite after four days, and I’d even managed to sleep for six hours, but a stomachache had woken me in the middle of the night and kept me from falling back asleep.

The moon hung wan over Voorhei with only a few wisps of cloud brushing her face. All was quiet except for a lone, plaintive voice singing in the darkness, a man telling the story of Thessetu the Hunter who’d fallen in love when he’d caught sight of the moon’s visage in a still pool one night.

In the song, Thessetu whispered his affections, lingering by the pool for days to woo the moon. His words were so heartfelt and his demeanor so honest, the wind carried them to all the nearby creatures, and they fell under his sway, including a rabbit named Woonta. His song of love swept through her and drew her to the pool, heedless of the danger.

When Thessetu saw her peeking through the reeds, his first thoughts were of the beauty of her fur and the plumpness of her flesh. Surely, these were gifts even the moon couldn’t ignore. So, he shot Woonta with his bow, skinned her with his knife, and roasted her with his fire. With all his skill, he prepared a soft place to sit and a fine meal.

And so he was proven true, the moon descended to receive his offering. She wore white robes, her long black hair in tresses. Thessetu watched breathlessly as the moon took the beautiful fur and brushed it across her pale cheeks. She collected the roasted flesh, as well as the bones that he’d set aside. She carefully wrapped them together with the fur and, without once looking toward the waiting hunter, leapt back into the sky.

Throughout, Thessetu had remained motionless. At first in wonder, and then in confusion as his body refused to do as he’d bid it. He’d unknowingly killed a spirit of the land, you see, and the moon held authority over motion and change. Which was why from that day forward, Thessetu froze as if he were a statue whenever the moon’s pale light touched him—

A soft ding from the south interrupted the singer. There was a bit of noise from that direction afterward but nothing requiring action from me or the people near me. The singer didn’t resume his song, however, so I just listened to the night instead, too tired to do anything unnecessary.

Dawn broke on the fifth day, and I was a mess. The stomachache had steadily gotten worse over the course of the night; it felt like someone poking my belly with an icepick. I’d thought the problem might be my appendix, but both Yuki and my Status confirmed I was exhausted-but-healthy. Which was not at all how I felt, since I also alternated between feeling hot and chilly, so maybe the flu? Which would’ve made sense—anyone’s immune system would be compromised after how rough the past few days had been—except my Status was clear of diseases.

I’d just have to tough it out for one more day. Not even a whole day—just until midnight when the Long Dark finished and the disturbed light settled back to normal. At that point, I’d be free to safely fall into bed and sleep for days.

A villager climbed up to pass out steamed sausages wrapped in cloth. I mindlessly took a bite of mine, then looked at it to make sure it was really food. The taste had been... I grimaced as the flavors hit me. Around me, the others clearly didn’t seem to enjoy it either, but they dutifully ate their portions.

“What’s in this?” I asked.

Tegen had his back against the wall, meditating. There were dark circles under his eyes and a certain deadness of expression that came from exhaustion. At my question, he glanced down to see his share placed before him, carefully wrapped in cloth. “It’s called the fifth day,” he said. “The ingredients are a secret of the Farmer’s Lodge. Make sure to eat it all.”

“A tradition?”

He started on his, taking a bite. “From as far back as anyone remembers.”

I squinted at the “food” in my hand. The sausage casing was wrapped around an unholy mixture of smoked meat, chunks of fat, unknown grains, maple syrup, chili peppers and a mush of assorted green things that were the source of a weird, minty, bitter herbaceousness.

I took another bite, confirming the horrible flavor. I did note, however, that my Status now read:

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), The Long Dark, Exhaustion (3), Stimulant (1), Infection Resistance (1), Enhanced Perception (1)

Oh, okay. That’s good stuff. We’d used up all the village’s supply of potions already, so the buffs the sausages provided were a nice boost. “The alchemists don’t have a problem with this?”

Tegen shook his head. “If there’s one lodge you should never anger, it’s the farmers.”

“Because they produce all the food,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“But—” I started.

Tegen sighed tiredly. “Little Pot, it’s like the healers and Nature’s Spring. Some things are allowed because they are too small to be worthy of care and too widespread to stop.”

“That makes sense, but this is a really good enhancement. Why isn’t it available more?”

Tegen got up to stretch his back, and as he checked over his gear, he said, “Because the ingredients are scarce, and the fifth day of the Long Dark is almost always the worst. All the mindless, weaker creatures driven mad are either sated, recovering from their injuries, or dead. Only the powerful and the cunning are left.”

Right. Steeling myself, I finished eating the sausage. Then I wondered about my family. Are they eating this too?

‘They’re on water duty right now,’ Yuki reported. ‘They were told they’d get their portions after the defenders have all been served. Everyone in the village will get some.’

How do you know?

‘Billisha said so.’

Right, of course, I should’ve realized. I’m just so… foggy. Like trying to think through a blanket. What about Ikfael?

Yuki’s attention turned toward the Glen, while down below the land soldiers cared for their war dogs—brushing their coats and feeding them from buckets full of greenish sausages. They got a share too, it seemed. I spotted Teila moving down the line of defenders, offering her Nature’s Spring to any of them who had lingering injuries. My understanding was that she’d been channeling the spell every moment she’d been awake.

After the Long Dark, I thought, let’s make sure her meridians haven’t been damaged. Yuki dimly acknowledged having heard me, but their attention was still on the Glen. Everything okay over there?

Yuki’s focus shifted back to me. ‘Yes, we were just admiring Ikfael and the silver wolves at work.’

Same as before?

Yuki’s giggle in response was both mirthful and ruthless. Not that I blamed them—the strategy Ikfael and Leiluminwei had devised was brilliant.

When a creature came to the Glen to make trouble, Moonlight created an illusion to make the pool look smaller than it was. Then it was just a matter of laying out some bait and having Ikfael drown the creature the moment it inevitably fell into the water. The strategy didn’t work on flying enemies, but in those instances Leiluminwei took to the air to fight them off while Ikfael shot stone needles at them.

The temporary alliance between the two spirits of the land was proving to be productive, and they’d collected a decent amount of light as a result. So far, Snow had resisted joining in, since protecting Oscar and Felix came first—

“Do you know who was singing last night?” The question spontaneously came to mind. “He had a nice voice.”

But Tegen shook his head. “I was asleep, as you should’ve been too.”

I debated telling him about not feeling well, but what were the options? They’d either pull me from the wall, which I wasn’t about to let happen, or they’d say I could stay but then they’d worry about me while also fighting for their lives.

No thanks.

‘It doesn’t look like you’re sick,’ Yuki said. ‘We’re still not seeing any of the usual signs.’

What about Billisha and Aluali? Are they complaining of any symptoms?

‘Just the itchies.’

Then maybe this is my own version, I thought. Soul marks are supposed to affect the application of the World Spirit, right? And I have a few intense ones.

Yuki’s qi blipped in acknowledgement, and I felt them turn to examine me some more. They’d agreed in principle but would feel better with confirmation. Me too, to be honest.

The sun crawled up the sky behind us. The day was going to be hot, but the forecast for after the Long Dark was snow. The dissonance between present and future was like a sore tooth among my thoughts; I couldn’t help poking at it.

There’d been some fighting to the north and east of the village earlier in the morning, including a gout of Sheedi’s flame to handle some flying pests, but our section of the wall had been quiet. The silence reminded me of when the forest had hidden from the kalihchi bear during his rampages. Which was another dissonance, because underneath the quiet, the forest’s spirits were a mess.

Silence and noise, hot and cold—the four concepts itched at me. What also itched was a spot on my back right underneath my left scapula. Thankfully, eight-year-old me was flexible enough to reach. I was really digging into it when Mumu came up to me, dragging Haol along with her.

Her spirit was prickly with energy, like she’d eaten more than one of those sausages. “Bear with it, Eight. The itchies will pass soon enough.”

“One more day,” Haol added.

Seeing us gather, Tegen moved closer. “The morning’s passing too easily. Something has the forest spooked.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “How common is it for big predators to migrate to a new area?”

“It can certainly happen if they’re driven off by something bigger,” Tegen said.

Mumu nodded and said, “There’s also a possibility for areas to be added to a larger, existing territories.”

Haol made an unpleasant face. “That’s the worse of the options.”

“Because something powerful enough to do that would be a danger to the village,” I said.

“Or on their way to becoming one,” Haol said.

Mumu sighed. “I hate to say it, but the King of the Forest was a mixed blessing. He was strong enough to constrain the forest’s denizens, but not so strong that he could take on the village during the Long Dark.”

Haol placed a hand at her elbow. “That would’ve changed in another year or two.”

“Oh, I know it, and so did our Inleio. Why else agree to hunt the bear?”

I’d thought a lot about my experience fighting the kalihchi bear, and in the end had come to the same conclusion. “The King, while he was alive, would’ve drawn a good number of attackers during the Long Dark. And for every one of them he killed, he would’ve gotten stronger. A virtuous cycle. For him, anyway.”

Tegen said, “Some describe the Path to Perfection as a spiral for just that reason.”

Seeming to shed his tiredness, Haol suddenly moved to look out over the wall.

“What is it?” I asked, overlapped by Mumu’s: “Movement?”

“A flicker, but nothing seems out of place.”

A moment later, the alarm dinged, and Mumu signed for a runner to tell the dog riders to get ready. Meanwhile, I examined the village boundary with my spirit eyes. It made them water to look so closely at the chaos, but there was a thread of something familiar, an unforgettable feeling albeit much, much smaller.

Shadow Kalesk (Animal)

Talents: Jaws, Patient Hunter, Veiled by Light

Moving only inches at a time, a lizard the size of a sixties’ roadster crawled out from under the trees. Her tail extended for another fifteen feet behind her, and she had a row of spikes along her spine. She looked like an iguana with broader shoulders to support a large head—one no doubt full of sharp murder teeth. I’d seen the skull of a smaller version of one of these things in Knight Ithia’s throne room

The kalesk continued slowly through the outer fields. The patrolling ghost dogs hounded her, but with Tenna’s Gift their attacks meant nothing. As for the living, she would’ve been impossible to spot without my spirit eyes. I pointed her out to my team.

“Are you sure?” Mumu asked. “It’s strange to find a kalesk this far west. They prefer the flatlands around Albei.”

“Those are the colossal ones. I’ve read the shadow kalesk don’t mind the trees,” Tegen said. “And the winged ones go wherever they want.”

“Is it just the one?” Haol asked.

After I confirmed the kalesk was alone, Mumu requested I check the other approaches to the village. At the same time, she sent messengers to make sure the other positions knew to be wary.

So, I jogged along the wall-walk and stopped whenever I came to a good vantage onto each direction’s surrounding fields. It was like a game of Where’s Waldo, but with deadly consequences. Fortunately, I didn’t see ghost dogs gathered anywhere else, and the sun continued its inevitable rise as I steadily circled the village. Along the way, I ran into Sheedi, who chose to follow along.

Eventually, we ended up back above the west gate. I’d been gone for about half an hour, and in the meantime, runners had brought and lined up a row of buckets full of a sticky slop, a mixture of glue, food waste, and dirt. As for the shadow kalesk, she’d gotten to within forty yards of the wall.

Working together, Mumu and Haol had managed to identify her general location and were waiting for her to get nearer to the wall, which she was. Inch by inch, step by step, the shadow kalesk came closer, and I wondered if it was possible to die of boredom while also holding your breath from the building tension.

Eventually, finally, the shadow kalesk was in range of the buckets, so word was passed to the dog riders in the kill box to get ready. My team and I, along with a handful of the militia, picked up our buckets. They waited for me to go first—I would be the sighting shot—and then once the kalesk was visible, they’d toss the contents of their buckets too.

I let her get right up against the wall—slipping between the poisoned stakes, her front paws slowly rising to grip the stone—before I emptied the bucket right on top of her. Then I hurriedly backed away so that the others could go, two-at-time, to follow suit.

The kalesk below was now drenched and visible for all to see. We peppered her with poison arrows immediately afterward, so even though she ran, the dog riders were able to easily catch up, spearing her with their lances.

They were in the middle of dragging the corpse back when the three riders were suddenly pulled from their mounts, like they’d been roped and tugged free. The land soldiers yelped and flew about ten feet toward the tree line before hitting the ground and being dragged away.

The dogs pivoted near instantly to grab hold of the riders and draw them back in the most twisted game of tug-of-war I’d ever seen. The dogs also batted at whatever was snatching their riders, but there no invisible creature to strike—at least nothing revealed by my spirit eyes.

The ghost dogs barked angrily and took off into the trees.

“We’re going to sally—” Mumu started before she was cut off and yanked from the top of the wall.

“Mu—” And then I was suddenly flying. Something had grabbed me. It wasn’t anything physical or tangible, but a force that pulled me from my spot on the wall before I could react.

There was a moment before falling when everything seemed still—not quiet, because of all the nearby yelling—but slowed. My panicked brain raced, grasping for anything that might save me. The walls were twenty feet tall, and the base was lined with poisoned stakes.

Yuki cast Iron Heart and Collaut’s Hide. My body toughened, and my skin thickened to become like leather. Fall damage, piercing damage, poison damage—half thoughts flickered, the synapses firing lightning quick.

My stomach rose, and the air rushed as I picked up speed. Feet, feet, I had to get my feet under me, so I muscled with all my might to turn and twist. Twenty feet wasn’t far in the grand scheme of things, but it could still break my neck. Or I could wind up speared by a sharpened, poisoned stake—more than one, if I flopped.

My form wasn’t perfect, but I got my feet under me and my back faced away from the wall. It was how the hunters trained for high falls. I’d practiced from our longhouse roof, but the village’s wall felt so much taller.

Dimly, I heard the drums beating to sound the alarm.

I fully enchanted my legs and back—this was no time to be frugal—and doubled up on Iron Heart. My breath came in quick gasps. I had to—think! Absorb and roll. Absorb and—

My feet hit a flat surface, and the surprise of it almost spoiled my landing, but muscle memory carried me through. My legs bent like shock absorbers, then I let myself roll back. I tumbled, shedding energy across my back for a couple of rotations before I came to a breathless stop propped against a stake.

I had a moment to check myself to make sure I hadn’t been punctured, but I was clear. Tegen had used his Unbroken Shield to give me a safe place to land. My left ankle felt like it’d been tweaked, but I got up anyway. My spear was sitting back atop the wall, but my bow was with me. I was reaching to unsling it when the force tugged on me once again, yanking me toward the village’s boundary.

I fought it, grabbing hold of stakes, dry grasses, dirt and stones, anything to slow myself and let my allies catch up. A glance to the side showed Mumu in the same position. Dragged across the fields, over the berms and their stakes, my mouth and eyes filling with dirt, I was helpless until briefly—for just a split second—my hand broke through the cover camouflaging one of the leg breakers, and I got a solid grip on it.

I reacted, instantly dropping Iron Heart for Bear’s Strength. Yuki was right there with me, letting Collaut’s Hide go to strengthen me. I grunted as I came to an abrupt stop; my arm felt like it’d almost come free of its socket. The force pulled and pulled, but I held on and reached over to get my other hand into the leg breaker.

Where was Mumu? Did she stop herself too?

Nearby, I heard Musa’s voice yelling, “Go, go! Attack!”

Jesei growled in response. He was a good thirty yards away, yet I still felt the rumble in my heart. Then, barking madly, he charged into the trees.

How much time had passed? A minute? Two? The gate had been left open, so reinforcements should be—

Haol flashed past, bow in hand, heading for the trees. Tegen followed on his heels, but the older hunter slowed to check on me. “Injuries?”

“None!” I said through gritted teeth. “Go get them.”

Then he was gone, charging after Haol. A moment later the alarm rang as multiple invaders crossed the boundary into the village. This was untenable. My team needed me. There had to be a way to slip loose from the force’s grip on me. Yuki switched their Iron Heart to Camouflage, but apparently the force didn’t need to see me to keep me in its grasp.

My mind raced, while Yuki confirmed that my spells and armor had kept me from getting scratched by the poisoned stakes. There was only one other escape spell more powerful than Camouflage, so I decided to go for it and cast Hollow Night. The world around me disappeared—all sight, sound, and smells. There was just me and the hole where Yuki would normally have been.

The force holding onto me was gone. The pressure on my arms eased, and for a second I just lay there in blessed relief. Then I let the spell go, ready in case the force captured me again, but when the world came back I stayed free. So, I picked myself up, wiped my face clear, fumbled for my bow, and ducked as a stone the size of a fist shot over my head.

Nearby, Tegen fended off a handful of musk oxen, keeping them away from Haol. There were more oxen in the trees, yet no sign of Musa or Jesei. The war dog must’ve gotten past.

Mumu was... Mumu had grabbed onto a tree at the village’s boundary, managing to interpose it between her and the direction she was being pulled. She looked like she’d been plastered onto trunk, but at least she was safe. Tegen and Haol seemed to be steadily moving toward her.

Yuki spun up Dog’s Agility, while I switched back to Iron Heart. Another rock came at me, but this time I was ready, spinning to the side as it whizzed past. Before I was shot at again, I leaned into a sprint, my ankle complaining of the stress, but with an Iron Heart still running, it held.

The rocks were being picked up and shot from outside the tree line. It could’ve been a musk ox that was Earth-Touched, but that didn’t explain the telekinesis, unless it was multiple oxen acting in concert? Better not to make any assumptions.

None of the ones visible were dusk or dawn. One had the Iron-Furred talent, another Charger. There was also a whole mess of variations on Angry, Petty, Surly, and Competitive.

As I approached my team’s position, I slowed to get into a shooting stance, then drew, sighted, and released. The arrow thunked into the side of an ox. I hadn’t aimed for anything more than that, because I also had to keep a wary eye out for incoming rocks. It was now up to the chishiaxpe venom to bring them down.

One by one, I worked the line of musk oxen. These suckers were tough, though. Their bodies were covered in old scars and recent wounds. None of them went down, but they did slow, giving Tegen some much-needed breathing room.

Which in turn opened up Haol’s options. He disappeared into Camouflage and made a run for the trees. The force gripping Mumu and the dog riders hadn’t lessened; to free them, we’d apparently have to get to the source, so I followed him into hiding and hurried to catch up.

Oh, the trees’ spirits raged. Their bare branches trembled with wrath. Only two days past, a necromancer had defiled their home. Now, another abomination had come.

Several, actually.

Haol hid behind the trunk of a maple tree. Ahead, about twenty yards farther, were three musk oxen alphas—all dusk—fighting with Jesei. Musa was on the ground among them, unconscious. The war dog was doing his best to protect his fallen companion, but since it was three on one, the alphas were toying with him.

The trio’s talents were ones I recognized: Sharp-Tusked, Hooves of Steel, Iron Charge, and so on. There was fourth, though, and his talents were very different:

Musk Ox Alpha (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Monopolist, The One Who Would Be King, The World Within his Grasp, Hidden Rage, Wandering Eye

Gods, but it was another enemy with obscure talents. At least there was only one. I scanned the area to make sure, but yes, there was only the one. The ghost dogs were focused here and only here. If we could take out the Monopolist, then fighting the others would be a more straightforward battle.

Haol took a breath and drew his bow. I hurried to follow suit, planning to match his timing. Then the forest thundered with sound of his Thousand Arrows. My Spiral Pierce was tiny in comparison. Still, a flood of arrows shot at the Monopolist—and every single one was stopped. Ten feet from his body, they hovered and then clattered to the ground before disappearing.

The two real arrows left behind then rose on their own and surged back at us. As shocked as we were, we managed to duck behind cover, the tree trunks thunking with their impacts. Apparently, that signaled the end of playtime, because the other alphas coordinated to flank and gore Jesei.

The war dog growled and fought like a demon, his jaws biting at the oxen’s flesh, but the numbers were against him. His side was torn open, and his blood spilled. The oxen beat at him with their hooves, but Jesei had so much fight in him. He didn’t go down, until he went down.

We didn’t let the war dog’s sacrifice go in vain. Haol and I used the time he’d won for us to retreat.

50

The Long Dark IV

We left Musa behind. He’d still been alive, though the odds of him lasting for much longer weren’t good. Without Haol and me there, nothing would stop the musk oxen from trampling him to death.

I felt sick about it, but without time to think, all we’d had was our training to rely on, and it said that when suddenly faced with an enemy more powerful than you, retreat. Save who you can, but the priority was to get away so that you could come back later with the preparation needed to hunt the enemy down.

The last time I’d fought musk oxen, the whole lodge had mobilized. That had been a group of young bulls that’d been driven out by the herd. Maybe even this herd. How are we supposed to—

We ran into Mumu and the land soldier teams sprinting toward us. She and the dog riders must’ve gotten free from the telekinetic grip. Had it been when the Monopolist repulsed Haol’s Thousand Arrows? In fact, the ox should’ve easily been able to nab Haol or me earlier, unless there was a cooldown of some kind on the ability, or specific circumstances under which it activated.

My mind hunted for any patterns in what we’d witnessed. At Yuki’s urging, we merged so that they could absorb our memories, then split again in case we needed to multi-cast spells. Their qi raced as they brought the full power of their intellect against the problem.

Meanwhile, Haol yelled, “Back! Back!”

The others immediately joined our retreat.

“Status!” Mumu yelled.

“Unhurt,” Haol said, not slowing. “Four musk oxen, powerful. I’m out of mana. Qi for one spell.”

“Unhurt,” I said between breaths. “They were all dusk, one straying far from normal. Mana for three, qi for eight.”

Mumu glanced behind us. “Musa and Jesei?”

“Both gone,” Haol said.

We broke through the tree line and spotted Tegen. He’d repositioned to place himself in a gap between the berms so that his flanks were protected by the stakes. Amazingly, while a few of the musk oxen he’d been fighting were down, a handful continued despite being poisoned. The dog riders leapt ahead to attack the enemy’s rear, their teams going in after them.

In the distance, all the village drums were beating. Teams of hunters poured from the gate—Kesa’s, Dura’s, and Susu’s. Only Tobin’s team was missing. It’d be up to them and the militia to defend Voorhei while our lodge concentrated its strength on the musk oxen.

I didn’t want to risk shooting arrows into the tangle of dogs, spears, and hooves, so I posted up behind one of the berms to keep watch for reinforcements on the musk oxen’s side.

“Dodge!” I yelled as a stone the size of a football shot from between the trees. The defenders reacted, but we were all operating on fumes by that point, so our response times were nowhere near what they should have been. The missile clipped a war dog’s hip and sent him and his rider tumbling. His team clustered around him, their spears at the ready to protect the injured dog.

The Monopolist shot again, this time aiming for Haol, but the hunter ducked behind a musk ox, and the animal went down screaming with her ribs caved in. The rocks steadily came one after the other. Sometimes they were aimed at where the defenders were thickest. More frequently, though, the target was Haol.

The pattern became even clearer when he was suddenly tugged from his feet. By that point, all the oxen outside the forest were down, but there was no way we could leave Haol behind.

A stone shot at me, but I ducked behind a berm. The stakes shattered like they’d been struck by a super-powered bowling ball. The telekinesis is getting stronger, I thought.

The uninjured war dog grabbed Haol before he could be dragged into the forest, and the Monopolist switched to target the giant hound with his stones instead. With the rest of the land soldiers’ help though, Haol was pulled over to a tree so that he could paste himself on its trunk like Mumu had earlier. He’d be useless, but at least he wasn’t in immediate danger anymore. All the other hunters took their cues from him, moving to interpose trees between themselves and the enemy.

The Monopolist banged on the trees with his telekinetic gun. Then, two stones hit at the same time. I could hear the wood splintering on the other side of the trunk, and the tree spirits went wild with anger.

‘It’s only push and pull,’ Yuki noted, ‘and the number of objects he can influence seems to grow with time.’

What about when I broke free?

‘He never picks up the same stone twice.’

I looked and saw the area around us littered with them. Does this mean I’m immune now? And Mumu too?

‘Maybe, or it might be a cooldown.’

I licked my lips and tried to think through the racket. Gods damn, but where was he getting all these rocks? Then, I noticed that the angle of attack was steadily changing. The Monopolist was moving north. I couldn’t actually see him, though. His Wandering Eye was probably some kind of remote viewing.

Still, we could trace his location based on where the rocks were being shot from. Unless it was a misdirection? That was when I saw Jesei’s ghost come out of the woods with Musa on his back, war hammer in hand. Both were red-tinged with anger, and behind them were a stream of ghost dogs following Jesei’s lead. Confirmation, then. We knew where the Monopolist was.

Right, so Mumu and I just needed to dodge the rocks to get close, defeat the three dusk bodyguards, and get past his shield to kill him. Wait, the shield. He stopped Haol’s spell.

‘And picked up the real arrows to shoot them back,” Yuki noted.

So he can grip things he’s already influenced. Is him leaving the rocks alone a trick?

Yuki’s qi circled faster and faster. ‘We don’t think so. There are so many now, if the Monopolist could grab them, he would. We suspect the shield and the last-ditch shots afterward are an overload of his ability. Why pick up only the two arrows? Why wait so long to start shooting in earnest again? Why the slow increase in frequency and strength of his attacks?’

You’re sure? I asked.

‘We may be wrong about the exact mechanics, but it’s not a trick. Of that we’re certain.’

Assuming Yuki was right, Mumu and I no longer had to fear being grabbed by the Monopolist again. The helplessness of being in his grip had been terrible—I could still taste the dirt—and I never wanted to experience that again.

Around me, the defenders were shifting around their trees to account for the changing angle of attack. We would remain at a stalemate unless we did something. No, that wasn’t true. The Monopolist would continue to get stronger.

Reading my intention, Yuki spun up Dog’s Agility, and I launched myself from cover, pelting over the ground in between as a stone whizzed behind me. I interposed trees when and where I could, and the trunks cracked as multiple rocks hit them. They began whipping toward me—now three at once.

I dodged, my body ducking-bending-straining to avoid being hit. Two stones shot past, but the third broke my collarbone and knocked the wind out of me. My eyes teared, but I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I’d get pummeled, so I endured to keep moving.

The last few steps to Mumu’s tree were a stumble, but she caught me and pulled me the rest of the way to safety. She already had her waterskin open, but I stopped her from casting Healing Water.

“Let Yuki,” I said through clenched teeth.

She nodded and poured the water; Yuki cast the spell. As the pain diminished, I was able to breathe again and huddled closer to Mumu. Our faces were only inches apart so that we could hear each other over the raucous din of stones smashing into the tree protecting us.

A thin line of blood ran across Mumu’s cheek. She absently wiped it away. “You have something?”

“I think so. We think so.” And I shared Yuki’s and my theory about how the Monopolist’s talents worked. Partway through, Kesa joined us, luckily having had an easier time crossing over.

One thing continued to bug me, though: “Why not target the dog riders with rocks? They should also be immune.”

“It’s because we’re higher level,” Mumu explained.

Kesa added, “And the riders aren’t a threat without their war dogs. One of the hounds is already out of the fight, while the other can still be affected by the invisible grip. The stray musk ox has nothing to fear from them.”

In fact, the team around the injured dog was rapidly digging in to create a defensible position. If I could get to him with a Healing Water spell... but no, he’d still be vulnerable to the Monopolist’s talents.

Gods, but it was so noisy. I could barely think through the adrenaline and noise. We needed to overload the enemy’s shield, and our best bet for that was Mumu. “Do you have enough mana for a Thousand Spears?”

“Just barely,” she yelled, “but we need to attack before the enemy grows stronger.” She turned to Kesa. “Where do we stand?”

“We have four hunter teams, and one of the land soldier teams. Ben has qi for two spells. Miri and Dura are down to one each. Tegen’s wells are both empty.”

“When we attack,” Mumu said, “the oxen's leader will capture the dog, but that will occupy one of his invisible hands. The rest will come for us; we’ll need to use the trees as much as possible until we get close. Then, the teams will distract the guard oxen until Eight and I bait the leader’s invisible shield. Eight will use lightning. I will use Thousand Spears. Once the shield is down, everyone attacks him—he’s the real threat to Voorhei.”

I could just imagine the Monopolist, safe outside our walls, spying on the villagers with his Wandering Eye. He could pick whoever he wanted and smash them against their own homes’ walls. Everyone in Voorhei was at risk. Everyone.

Mumu and Kesa knew that to be a truth. I saw it in their eyes.

“This Kesalei invokes the Last Line. Our Voorhei will be safe. My team will defend you at the cost of our lives.”

“Kesa—” Mumu started, but the elder hunter stopped her.

“I’ve lived long enough to recognize necessity,” she said, then whistled to draw attention to her. The other hunters watched as she signed the details of Mumu’s plan, adapted for the Last Line, the hunters who’d volunteered to give their lives to protect the village if necessary.

The defenders around me were taut-determined-afraid. Although they had their fear controlled, it lingered as its tendrils wove through their spirits. More than a few whispered prayers, and I added mine to theirs. With all my heart, I wished them safe. Deep in my heart, I knew they wouldn’t be.

Mumu had her hand on Kesa’s shoulder, her face pleading.

But the older woman wouldn’t be deterred. “We do what we must, but maybe the gods will be merciful and I’ll see you on the other side of this Long Dark. For now, though, my Lodge Master, we can’t delay. Give the word and put your plan into action.”

Mumu’s spirit fissured, silver sorrow seeping like lava. “I swear,” she said, “that your sacrifice will be made worthwhile.”

Kesa smirked—she smirked! And said, “I know.”

Mumu raised her voice so that everyone could hear: “Dog rider, in!”

The rider saluted, then urged his mount out from behind cover. The dog was immediately captured by the Monopolist, but the team supporting him was ready and dragged him to safety.

The enemy was down to firing to two stones at once. Mumu nodded at the confirmation of that part of the theory. “Susu, then Dura, Kesa, and my team! Quickly now, one after the other, give him too many targets, confuse him!”

Grim-faced Susu said, “In,” and her team dashed forward, moving from tree to tree.

“In,” Dura said, following after.

Kesa gave Mumu a nod full of meaning, then: “In,” and she was running, weaving between the splintering trees. We’d taken too long to plan, however, so another stone had joined the cacophony.

“In,” Mumu yelled, but it was just Tegen and me with her. “Go fast,” she said to me, “and hide. We’ll catch up.”

I ducked into Camouflage, while Yuki spun up Dog’s Agility. Everything slowed, and I saw the rocks hurtling at us. Mumu had to save her energy, and Tegen was out, so they moved without any magic—dodging the stone bullets, getting struck by splinters from shattered trees.

The Monopolist’s Wandering Eye didn’t seem to see me now that I was immune to its grip, so I was free to ignore Mumu’s instructions and instead kept pace with her and Tegen, ready to heal them if they were struck by a stone. It wasn’t a decision made consciously; I just couldn’t leave them behind.

So, I saw it all as they stormed toward the dusk oxen: Susu’s team made first contact and worked to draw one away from the rest. Then Dura’s team hit the melee, dangerously splitting their members to take two at once. That left Kesa’s team to run interference for Mumu and Tegen.

The alpha guards were monsters, each a thousand pounds of charging-kicking-goring death. None of the teams alone was equal to a single one of them. Ahlrein took a kick that sent him flying, not to get up again. In response, Susu managed to trip the ox before he could charge the downed hunter. Her remaining team members all thrust their spears, but none of them bit deep.

Dura and Miri fought for their lives. Each had struck with Dog’s Agility, drawing the oxen’s attention, and their team absorbed the consequences. Bones broke, people were trampled, and yet they continued harassing the oxen with their spears, yelling insults and taunts.

The fight was horrible and brave and gruesome, and all the while the Monopolist shot at Mumu, and it took every bit of skill and focus in her to dodge. She was… she was beautiful, the essence of a hunter, her lodge opening the way to her prey.

Kesa’s team hit the Monopolist, but he shrugged off their spears and whirled with his horns to drive them away. They stuck to him though, jabbing at his eyes, his mouth, his genitals—angering him, stoking the rage inside him, all so that he’d focus on them.

My team and I waited in case Kesa’s team drew out the Monopolist’s shield. It didn’t. Then, a stone flew toward the Monopolist catching Kesa in the back. Even from dozens of feet away, I heard bones break, and the Monopolist seized the opportunity to trample her under him.

Her team renewed their attacks, and more stones flew, striking them down. Only Ben remained standing, as he suddenly moved with Dog’s Agility.

Mumu and Tegen charged, but I was faster—the forest brightening as I cast my Lightning Hands. Yuki and I both poured our mana into the spell, willing the electricity to consume the Monopolist. For a moment all was incandescent, my hands alive and writhing with streamers arcing to cling to the ox’s body.

His hide burned from the overflash, the moisture vaporizing to scald him. Even so, the Monopolist didn’t use his shield. We’d need Mumu’s Thousand Spears after all.

The mana inside her shifted; her qi began to cycle. The lightning in my hands spit and hissed, whispering to me, urging me to seek the paths of least resistance. And in that moment, epiphany flooded through me. I would’ve realized-remembered-thought of it earlier, had I not been at my limit.

The overflash was only one aspect of the danger posed by lightning. The other was the intrusion, when a portion of the energy entered the body. Mana ticking down, I let the lightning loose to follow the path of least resistance—not to the earth, where it might rest, but toward the Monopolist’s watery eyes and wet mouth, where it would follow the throat and trachea down to his heart and other organs.

The ox bucked and raged. He whirled again—all the oxen did—to face the source of lightning. The thing that had once been the domain of the King of the Forest was back, and the animals ignored everything and everyone else to charge me. My Camouflage was useless, surrounded as I was by a corona of skyfire.

Mumu changed tack—she hit them all with her Thousand Spears. A bramble rose in a half circle around her, catching the Monopolist on one side and his guards on the other. Mirrored spears, all laced with portions of Spiral Pierce, penetrated into the bodyguards’ muscles, lungs, and throats. They stumbled back, bellowing, but the Monopolist stood steady. He’d used his shield to protect himself.

There was nothing for him to pick up afterward, however. The spears faded the moment the spell came to an end.

Mumu immediately followed up with an unpowered spear thrust, as did Tegen. The Monopolist took the hits, uncaring, as he got moving again. His eyes were wild, staring me down. I danced out of the way, let the lightning go, and picked up one of the fallen spears.

My Spiral Pierce bit into his flank. Ben’s caught him on the other side. The older hunter was somehow brimming with qi, and the air cracked with the repeated use of our spells. We gouged into the Monopolist’s flesh. The ox’s blood ran down the shafts of our spears.

The rage in the Monopolist’s eyes turned to fear. He ran, yet he couldn’t escape our Dog’s Agility. And then we were joined by the unhurt war dog and the rest of the land soldiers. Haol was there too, shooting his bow as fast as humanly possible.

Together we swarmed the Monopolist like wolves, and he finally fell to a Spiral Pierce to his heart from Ben. For good measure, I stabbed him in the eye until I felt the bone give and the spear’s tip squish his brain. That was when the other musk oxen finally broke, but we chased them down too to keep them from becoming threats in the future.

Breath heaving, my hands shaking from the adrenaline, I stumbled back toward the injured. I’d used up all my mana for the Lightning Hands, but Yuki had wisely saved enough left for a single Healing Water.

Three hunters were dead, their teams grieving over the bodies. Susu had somehow survived, even after throwing herself at an alpha. Amazingly, Kesa was still alive and Ahlrein too, but both barely clung to life. None of the others who knew Healing Water had any mana left, and we were still hours from midnight. Between Kesa and Ahlrein, we could save only one—

“I know when I’m done,” Kesa croaked. That didn’t stop Ben from casting Nature’s Spring, but she shoved him away. “There’s better use for that; don’t waste your life on me.”

Ben had used the Body Burner spell to fuel his spells, and his qi was currently a fire consuming his life.

“Go,” Kesa said. “Let the Last Line protect our village’s future.”

He disobeyed her, though, not leaving her side, so the wounded were brought over to him so he could cast Nature’s Spring on them. Even after she stilled, the light leaving her eyes, he stayed with her.

Mumu sent a runner to signal the all clear, and request help moving the wounded back inside the walls. The dead too—we weren’t going to leave them outside.

As for me, I’d pretended to cast Healing Water on Ahlrein, while Yuki had done the work. The spell hadn't been enough to fix all the damage, but it’d keep him alive long enough for him to get more magical healing later.

Once again, Teila met us at the gate, this time with horror in her eyes at the sight of the fallen and the wounded among us. I heard sobbing come from the others with her, but I tuned it out. What mattered in that moment was to prepare in case there was another attack.

As the adrenaline washed away, my stomachache came back with a vengeance, now accompanied by a dizzying swirl of emotions. A part of me wondered if things would’ve turned out differently if I’d taken Vorkut’s offer. We might’ve had two healers with us, and some of the dead might’ve lived. It was a bitter, bitter thought.

Still, I endured, as did my team with me. With exhausted determination, we climbed to our positions above the gate. There were twelve more hours to go.

All was quiet, although the maddened trees were a distraction, constantly drawing my eyes from their search for danger. Haol paced back and forth along the wall, also scanning the tree line, while Tegen and Mumu meditated. We’d trade places with them later.

The alarm dinged softly, but I told the others to rest easy. A brown bear wandered into the fields, walking crookedly like he was drunk. She licked at some of the blood spilled, and then fell in a heap.

She was an ordinary bear, according to her Status, exhausted by the Long Dark and asleep, but I went out along with the uninjured war dog team to shoot her through the heart with a Spiral Pierce arrow.

A bear who sought out and drank blood? I wasn’t going to give her any opportunity to stray.

I felt worse and worse over time, and when Mumu got up to switch with me, she paused to put the back of her hand against my forehead to check my temperature. She must’ve not liked the look in my eyes.

Everything was pulsing, but I was determined to hold on, to do my share. It was just another eight hours—that was all—until I could fall into bed and sleep. And mourn too, I thought, my stomach sinking.

Yuki spent some precious qi on a Nature’s Spring for me, though the spell didn’t appear to do any good. The irony was that the uekisheile felt fine. Sorrowful, yes, at the losses in our lodge family, but this had been their smoothest Long Dark ever.

The uekisheile wasn’t alone. I'd heard some of the militia talking about how much better it was this year compared to the previous. Only six militia members had died so far, and one had been from a heart attack.

If it hadn’t been for the musk oxen, we wouldn’t have lost our war dog and rider, nor any hunters. That was terrible luck and a shame, but somehow still better than before according to the gossipers.

Mumu picked me up and carried me downstairs. I resisted at first, but she was so warm, enfolding me with her concern. My eyes fluttered closed.

I woke up nauseous and clutching my stomach. Yuki spun through my body, trying to find the cause—disease or poison—but whatever it might be, it eluded them. Dimly, I noted I was in Mumu’s longhouse. She lived there with her grandmother and a couple of cousins, although it was currently unoccupied except for me—

The door suddenly opened. The sky was dark on the other side, framed around Mumu, but I ignored her as I—dizzy, stumbling—scrambled for the chamber pot, fumbled with my pants, and held on for dear life, all the while feeling like my insides were on fire. Trembling fingers finally got my pants down, so that I could squat.

Gods, but it felt like a red-hot poker was being pulled from my stomach, through my intestines, and out my ass. I clenched my teeth, and tears welled in my eyes. I grunted like a pig as I pushed, growled like an animal as I squeezed.

Mumu held me upright, while I fought and fought, until—plop, plop.

Blessed relief swirled through me, dizzying but in a good way. The pain immediately disappeared, and I felt feather light, like I was made of air and stardust. Yuki shivered from the pleasure of it, and a moment later, so did I.

“Eight?” Mumu asked, her voice full of concern.

The fog that’d been obscuring my thoughts lifted, and while I still ached from the wounds and exertions of the past few days, my stomach felt fine now. I turned in embarrassment toward Mumu to assure her I was okay, to thank her for her care, but she was staring in horror below me, directly into the chamber pot.

I’ve had some stinkers before. Surely it can’t be that bad—

The pot’s interior smoked with the telltale signs of darklight dissipating. Bits of crackling black studded the turds, and they smoldered as they fizzled in the open air. Mumu and I watched mesmerized until all that was left was an unhealthy-looking mess. No darklight remained; it’d all disappeared.

Mumu looked gobsmacked. “Was that… It had to be, but how? No, don’t answer. In fact, don’t ever, ever speak about what just happened to anyone. Not your family, not the lodge, not even me. There are too many ways to force the truth out of people. Keep it to yourself, and yourself only.”

She got up and ran to the door, only stopping at the jamb to ask, “Are you feeling better? Are you well?”

The itchies, or my version of them, had disappeared. I also felt like my emotions were my own again. The simmering anger I’d been feeling had vanished.

“I think so.”

Mumu nodded, and closed the door behind her, leaving just me alone in the longhouse. Well, not quite—I was never alone, was I?

According to Spontaneous Formation, I should have been incarnated in this world without any darklight, so there were only three options for where the stuff in the chamber pot had come from: either from ingesting it along with my food, being poisoned with it like Ithia had, or—

‘We feel—this must be what the word clarity truly feels like,’ Yuki said. ‘Our thoughts are unencumbered.’

Their qi was tinged with wonder and a strong undercurrent of guilt too. Not that they’d intended to cause me discomfort, but it was becoming increasingly clear to both them and me that it was their darklight that’d just been expelled from my body. As a part of me, they’d unintentionally used me as a filter.

Which was a weird thought, and one I didn’t know what to do with. After my experiences in Albei, I’d found it difficult to hold onto the idea that darklight was the source of all evil—especially not after my conversations with Aslishtei and Moon—but at the same time, it sort of was. Just look at what it did to poor Borba and Ithia.

Whatever darklight was, the stuff was toxic. Potentially useful in competent hands, but incredibly dangerous otherwise. And my hands, or more accurately my bowels, had suddenly become very, very competent.

Gods, if the wrong person heard about this, they’d put me in a box to filter darklight twenty-four seven. Mumu was right. I could never talk about this with anyone—

The world shimmered. Literally, a silvery glow covered everything, and then faded from view. Inside my mind, my Status clock struck midnight, and a notification dinged.

Congratulations

You have survived the Long Dark, and the world takes another step toward perfection. In gratitude, the world offers five silverlight to all those still living. You are also considered one year older.

Bless you, walker. Strive ever onward.

51

Nine

A handful of clouds had come out to obscure the moon, darkening the village except for where the watch fires burned. A cold wind swept past. It was midnight on the longest night of the year, so you’d think it’d be quiet and peaceful, but the sheltered animals cried out in a mishmash of crowing, lolling, braying relief. The humans too. There was cheering, and people started singing, the song spreading until every voice was raised in exhausted exultation.

My translation didn’t do the song justice:

“Another year survived. We’ll mourn our losses, but those who live must live on until another year’s survived. We thank the gods and the spirits, the defenders and their supporters, those on the walls and those in between. We mourn our losses, but the Path to Perfection calls—another year’s survived.”

I stood in the doorway to Mumu’s longhouse, listening, and it finally sank in that the Long Dark was over. The end had been messy and bitter and complicated with questions, but that was my life in Diaksha. That which appeared simple at first was complicated once you started digging.

I felt like I’d shed twenty pounds I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. The rest of me was worn to the bone, however, and whatever sleep I’d gotten earlier hadn’t been enough.

Yet, I couldn’t rest. There was a chance some clever creature would take advantage of the moment to attack the village, and if that didn’t happen, there was still work to do—within the next forty-eight hours, Voorhei was going to be buried in snow.

After I assured my team I was feeling better, I took my place on the wall alongside them. Mumu shot me a long look before putting a hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. I let myself lean against her as we looked out at the tree line.

Meanwhile, the village bustled with activity as the militia broke down the bodies of all the creatures we’d killed and ran them through the alchemical processes to cleanse meat of poison. A few had already been at it throughout the Long Dark, but the villagers now worked on the task in earnest. A whitish-gray plume rose from the village’s smoker, a steady presence through the wee hours.

People cheered at dawn’s first light, and another song broke out—this one more hopeful. To celebrate the new year, a runner brought us bowls of pork and corn porridge drizzled with maple syrup. A little later, Teila escorted Billisha and Aluali to the west gate. She’d tempted them into sneaking away from their duties.

It was hard to see the children haggard and with dark circles under their eyes, but they were also giddy for having survived. I hugged them tight and noticed that their bodies and spirits felt different than usual. A shock ran through me as I remembered that they were now ten years old!

Everyone gained a kutha’s worth of silverlight at the end of the Long Dark, which after ten years totaled fifty silverlight, the milestone for Level 1. Billisha and Aluali had caught up and were now the beginningest of adults.

Billisha Eightsdaughter (Human)

Talents: Skinner, Leader of the Pack

Nascent: Qi Initiate

Aluali Eightsson (Human)

Talents: Skinner, Introverted, Hard-Working

Nascent: Empathetic

There’d be a big, village-wide celebration in the spring for all the kids who’d reached Level 1, but in the meantime, my team surrounded the children to congratulate them.

Billisha looked toward me before saying, “Ali and I are both artisans, but my path is focused on people as well as making things.”

“Mine is about understanding my craft,” Aluali said. “And I’m Hard-Working too—I can feel it.”

“That’s right,” I said. “It’s what I see in your spirit, and Billisha’s new talent is called Leader of the Pack.”

Billisha’s face fell. “We... ah... we were also offered slave paths.”

Aluali put a comforting hand on her arm. “And survivor ones too,” he reminded her.

Billisha nodded at that, but I still pulled my adopted children in for fresh hugs. “The past shapes us but doesn’t define who we are. What matters is who we choose to be, all right?”

“Yes,” they each muttered into my shoulders.

“We’ll talk to Sheedi about getting new spirit maps. She’ll help us understand your paths. Have you told Bihei yet?”

Billisha spoke into my shoulder again. “Not yet. We wanted to see you first.”

“Then go to her next. She’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

The kids readily agreed, and after one more hug for good measure, Teila led them off to find Bihei.

Once they were out of view, Haol asked, “You didn’t want them to become hunters?”

“It wasn't my decision to make. I’m glad they chose to become artisans, though. We talked about it and decided as a family that it suits their temperaments better.” I offered him a wry smile. “Besides, it honors their original families. And I don’t think I’d ever sleep again if they regularly fought creatures like that stray musk ox or the necromancer elk.”

“I feel the same way about Dena,” he said.

Mumu poked him. “You don’t worry about me?”

“Not at all,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Teams of people swept the fields clear of stakes and covered the leg breakers. Children ran among them to collect spent arrows. The villagers worked tirelessly to take down the interior defenses too—the spikes on the rooftops, the braziers, the tubs full of arrows, and the bundles of spears.

Mana was flowing again, so the injured were brought to those who knew Healing Water. Tegen and Haol tag teamed the war dogs, while Mumu and I helped Susu, Ahlrein, and the others.

The land soldiers were grateful, of course, and promised not to mention what we’d done to the Healer’s Lodge. As for Ahlrein, he was badly shaken up. Teila told us afterward that it’d been the closest he’d ever come to dying.

At noon, the village’s leadership gave the all clear to enter the woods, so my team and the land soldiers escorted a group of militia members with their oxen. We kept watch while they attached the corpses of our would-be invaders to the oxen’s harnesses and dragged them back to the village.

Afterward, we accompanied the dog riders to go looking for Musa and Jesei’s bodies. We found the two only a hand-width apart. Jesei had tried to reach Musa until the very end.

There was no sign of their ghosts. They seemed to have moved on together, which was a thought I rolled up with all the others I didn’t want to consider. There’d be time for somber reflection once the village was snow-bound.

Even during the village-wide funeral held later that night, I didn’t think too hard about our losses. There was a bit of humorless irony at having to fight monopolists in both Albei, the healers, and Voorhei, the musk ox stray. That was the opposite of the Luck I was looking for when I’d pushed the attribute up to 15. I didn’t know what to do with the synchronicity.

Mostly, I ran on autopilot. Everyone was, with people ready to fall over from exhaustion, but it was a tradition that the bodies be burned the evening of the first day of the year, so that was what the villagers did.

It had sounded like a strategy to avoid zombification when I’d first heard about the practice, but seeing it in action made me think it was also a way to not carry the weight of the losses into the new year. There was a shared meal afterward, and singing too—weary, graceful, somber, hopeful.

The light from the dead would be absorbed later, once the intended recipient had had time to prepare themselves for it. Musa’s and Jesei’s would be sent to Albei, where they’d had family.

After eating, some people fell asleep where they sat and were gently helped home. My family stayed long enough to be polite, but left as early as we could.

The militia took responsibility for the walls that night. A group of them had slept during the day, so I assumed it would be all right to leave things to them. Plus, the Long Dark was over. The creatures of the woods were also likely collapsed in exhaustion too, needing days and days to recover.

Still, I didn’t fall asleep right away. Desperate as I was to do so, I had to will myself to let go of the tension. Muscle by muscle, I gave myself permission to rest. Except, the littlest sounds jolted me awake all night. Even with my family around me and Yuki singing lullabies—gods bless them all—I couldn’t stop picturing the dead. Their trampled and torn-apart bodies, the fear on their faces, and the determination to continue on too, despite everything thrown at them.

My chest itched where I’d been shot, and I couldn’t help thinking how useful dusked Borba would’ve been during the Long Dark. The healers too, the thought from earlier blooming in my head. If Ikfael and I had accepted their proposed exchange, Kesa would’ve survived, and Ben wouldn’t have had to burn through years of his life.

It was an uncomfortable line of thought, a little too understanding of Inleio’s decision to turn Borba into a mule. A little too regretful of not taking the healers’ offer.

Eventually, I slept—long, hard, dreamless, and yet still uneasy.

Snow fell as promised over the next few days, burying the village in a blanket of white. Although my anger issues seemed to have greatly diminished, I still felt restless, so I occupied my hands with tending to my gear as well as our animals, and helping around the longhouse. Of course, Yuki and I also experimented and worked to decode the Rain Call spell.

None of that was quite enough, though, nor a replacement for getting out and moving. I would’ve braved the snow to visit Ikfael and the Glen, but my phone reported an extreme weather warning—the approach of a series of storms, one hitting after the other.

Before the storms hit, however, a ding from the village’s alarm caught my attention, and sweaty-palmed, I grabbed my spear and got ready to go check it out. Likely, the cause was a peddler or traveler who wasn’t known to our village’s dasekua, but I’d feel better making sure.

My family saw me off with knowing, pitying looks. I mean, I understood there was a ninety-nine-percent chance it was nothing, but that remaining one percent—I had to know, so I put on my snowshoes and headed out.

At the east gate, I saw Tobin’s team escorting a land soldier wearing Knight’s Ithia’s badge, and I followed them to Dwilla’s house, making myself a fly on the wall for the meeting between him and the village’s leadership team.

I wasn’t the only one either. All sorts of people gathered in a circle around them, stuffing Dwilla’s sitting room full of busybodies. We listened as she reported on the Long Dark, and Koda described the impact the losses would have on village life. There was also a short presentation from Mumu on how the Hunter’s Lodge stood, and Sima Simasson talked about the state of the fields and animals.

Sima was master of the Farmer’s Lodge, and my new best friend once he’d learned I could predict the weather. At the moment, my weather report was only good for a ten-day forecast, but even that was gold, given its precision. Apparently, the farmers’ weather magic was notoriously fickle.

The messenger took notes throughout, and Koda picked up again to talk about the children who’d turned Level 1. He handed over a stack of fresh spirit maps, and listed the names, households, and paths of each.

Aluali was a Level 1 Young Heartful Tanner, while Billisha was a Level 1 Apprentice Workshop Head. Both were supposed to be excellent artisan paths. For real—it wasn’t just me being proud of them, Sheedi had said so herself.

Heartful Tanner focused on bringing out the best qualities in materials, and at higher levels they could imbue traits from the source creature into the final product. Workshop Head was a less-common path and was likely a hybridization of Billisha’s early training and her recent experiences. It focused on leading by example and lifting up the people under her to improve their skills. She wouldn’t get many bonuses to her own skills, but should be able to leverage others to increase overall output.

With Bihei as a Weaver, we were starting to look like a nice little enterprise, in addition to being a family. Thoughts of founding a commercial empire were interrupted, though, when it came time for the messenger to report on the state of Albei and the surrounding towns and villages. There wasn’t much surprising, except for one big thing: Albei’s experience of the Long Dark had been much more chaotic this year in comparison to previous ones.

Their walls had kept out most attackers, but flyers and tunnelers had historically been a problem until Knight Ithia killed a colossal kalesk one year and turned its skull into a power lodestone—drawing the attention of Long-Dark-influenced creatures directly to her fortress instead of the pyramid and the rest of the city.

Well, it seemed that the throne had been sabotaged. Whoever it’d been had also found a way to poison some of the darklight collected from the fallen attackers, so Knight Ithia wanted all the surrounding villages and towns to be alert to nathlein, especially those expressing unusual interest in Albei. We were also instructed to test any darklight before consuming it, and any exported to Albei would be subjected to thorough inspection.

It was all I could do not to squirm. Not mentioning the Deer God’s reappearance to anyone had definitely been the right call. Thankfully, a ready scapegoat was available, although whoever had poisoned Ithia would likely be wondering at this turn of events. They might even start looking for the party responsible for de-powering Ithia’s throne.

What an awful thought.

Only Mumu and Ikfael knew about the Deer God, and I’d not mentioned anything to either about what had happened in the throne room that night. I assumed I would be okay, but it wouldn’t hurt to take Ithia’s instructions to heart. I should be careful of curious strangers moving forward.

That evening, Teila came to our longhouse for an extended visit. She’d weather the snowstorms with us, and while doing so, help jumpstart the children’s access to qi. Just the kids, though—Bihei would have to wait until we came up with a reasonable explanation for it. The kids were young enough and new enough to their paths that it’d provide a plausible explanation for them.

Yuki’s efforts in Albei had refined the method, and Billisha was ready—she had a nascent talent for qi; it just needed unlocking. Still, it took a couple of days for her to reliably manipulate that qi, and a couple more to refine her belly dantian. Then, she’d take the slow road, letting the structures Yuki had set up inside her meridians to finish the process over time.

Ali’s turn came next, and seven long, sweaty days followed, but the boy did it. He had such a happy, weary smile on his face at the end.

Yuki and I started the kids on Camouflage right away, figuring that was the best starter defensive spell for them. Also, I technically hadn’t learned the spell from the lodge, which was a loophole I’d use if anyone raised questions about how the two of them had gotten access to it.

The kids’ maximum capacity for qi was only good for a couple of spells, so we had lots of time to fill in between while it regenerated. While the wind howled outside and the light dimmed because the snow level rose above the windows, we worked at our small chores and sang many songs.

Our longhouse was in good repair and well supplied. It was like being inside a cocoon, our own little world, and the tension running through me slowly began to ease.

The tops of longhouses dotted an ocean of white. I wasn’t the only one braving the frigid morning either—other villagers popped up out of their homes like groundhogs to survey the storms’ aftermath.

Gray smoke streamed into the air from the longhouse hearths, and both Voorhei’s pyramid and its walls looked strange with their bases buried in snow—familiar sights in an otherwise surreal landscape.

I spotted Koda and some assistants trekking from house to house, making sure the families inside didn’t need for anything. They left a trail of snow-shoe prints behind them, the connections between people temporarily visible to the mundane eye.

Koda waved, and I waved back.

On the ladder below me, Billisha asked who it was, and then demanded to see for herself. That led to the whole family and Teila coming up onto the roof to enjoy the fresh air. They brought hot tea and snacks with them so that we could enjoy a short picnic before Teila headed home and I left for the Glen. As we sat, chitchatting about nothing at all, Koda made his way over to us.

He clapped twice, and said, “This is Koda come to check on your family and distribute shares of the Long Dark’s light.”

Bihei invited him and his assistants up to where we sat and offered them tea, which he declined. Instead, he passed out small pouches to my family, giving me a larger one, which was tagged with my name.

“A share each for Eight’s family, and ten shares for Eight himself—one for defending the walls, one for the west gate, four for the times he sallied, two for entering the woods, and two for fighting against powerful strays. Knowing your preferences, we set aside only the silverlight. This is how much we value your contributions to our Voorhei.”

The pouch’s contents looked like gravel, the shiny remains of many different creatures.

75 silverlight gathered, 38 absorbed.

Even before Yuki had taken their share, it wasn’t a lot given the incredible trial the Long Dark represented, but that was the reality when splitting shares among all the able-bodied folk in the village. My family offered me their pouches, but I flatly refused. They’d need every advantage they could get. My kids were now officially magic users, and we’d arrange for Bihei’s access soon enough.

Koda eyed my pack, armor, and weapons nearby. “You’ll be heading out to Honored Ikfael, then?”

“Shortly,” I replied. “I have responsibilities there too.”

Koda nodded, then handed me a velvet pouch tied with silver wire. His voice caught as he said, “Thank her for us. The village did much better this year because of her blessings.”

“We all did,” I said.

All the usual landmarks were wiped away by the snow. Everything was still and quiet. There was only the wind, the soft crunch of my snowshoes, and my breath as it steamed. Thankfully, I had the river to follow and the escarpment in the distance to orient myself.

I passed between sleeping trees, their spirits restless from dreaming of the Long Dark, and as I got farther away from Voorhei and up into the hills west of the village, I started to see wildlife—a lynx hunting snowshoe hares, a moose sitting idly and uncaring of the snow around him. All of the animals’ talents were ordinary, however. None were stray.

The journeying was slow, and I took care as I traveled, both in walking over the snow and in staying out of sight. My heart raced every time I spotted a creature, and I couldn't calm it down until I confirmed its relative harmlessness.

At one point I heard an eagle in the distance, and my bow was in my hands before I could even think. With an effort of will, I dismissed the memory of Wahashtei cut in half, the image of him and the child carried away, and the bitterness of being too slow and missing my shot.

Yuki surrounded my heart with their love, and I intellectually knew that I’d done my best, but it galled—it galled so much—that maybe if I’d been a little better, smarter, faster...

But regrets will eat you alive if you let them, emptying you until there’s nothing left besides bitterness. Knowing that and living it were two different things, however, and I had to keep on practicing the living part.

As I passed into Ikfael’s territory, the winter wind lost its bite, and I felt an ease that’d been missing since... well, since the night Borba had murdered Peng and his team.

The Glen’s waterfall was frozen, a cascading curtain of ice glimmering in the afternoon sun, but the pool, however, looked like it always did. No doubt it was some kind of magical hijinks on the part of the resident spirit of the land keeping the water from freezing over.

Sun-on-Snow bounded from the cave and knocked me on my butt with her enormous paws. She nuzzled my face and chest, and her kittens, Felix and Oscar, weren’t far behind. They crawled over my legs and arms to get to me. Both had gotten bigger since I’d last seen them.

Yuki passed along the blynx’s happiness at my return. There were, apparently, the remains of a hare in the cave if I was feeling hungry after my journey, but I had my own supplies and passed on the offer. In fact, there were carefully wrapped donuts in my pack, yet still no sign of their intended recipient.

Once I got my gear stowed, I tussled with the blynxes for a bit. Snow was impossible to pin down, as you’d expect, but the kittens hadn’t learned how teleport yet and were easier game.

Afterward, I went for a wander and saw that the builders had left the shrine’s construction site in good order. They’d resume in the spring, but it looked like they didn’t have that much more to do—maybe a month for the last of the interior spaces and finishings? The quality of their work was excellent too. I didn’t see any indications of them skimping on materials or shortcutting the build.

Back at the pool, I started a fire, then sat staring into the flames until the sun set. Snow and her kittens gathered around too, and I was glad to have their company. My thoughts were darker than they’d been in a long time, and even with Yuki whispering in my ear, I couldn’t help dwelling on... well, everything.

This world in which I’d found myself pushed you to strive past your limits toward—toward something I didn’t even think was possible: perfection. And heaven forbid you shirk your responsibilities and ignore the path. There were your competitors and the Long Dark to keep you struggling, to rip away the lives of you and your loved ones if you weren’t ready for it, if you didn’t keep growing in power.

Obviously, there were people who lived ordinary lives. They didn’t absorb light and trusted their leaders and defenders to protect them, but that wasn’t something I could accept. My life was my own, and my responsibility to my family and friends was mine too. I took it to heart, and that was one of the reasons why I’d been as successful as I had been in my previous life: the sheer determination to do better on behalf of myself and my loved ones. That hadn’t changed on my arrival in this world.

But Diaksha was Diaksha, and I now had a better understanding of what it meant to live in this world. Sitting by the fire on that cold, quiet night, tears came as I let out the anguish of the past few weeks. Yuki was more used to death, but they too experienced the keen edge of loss.

There was Inleio, of course, and Borba had been a friend once. Wahashtei had been a cranky-ass neighbor, but he’d died trying to save a child. Kesa had been wary and wise, and she’d died protecting the village’s future. Musa and Jesei had been loyal to each other until end. Even poor Salu, the girl in Albei, had had her life cut short.

I’d been putting this moment off, but it wouldn’t be delayed anymore. The feelings—

An awkward paw snuck around my arm to hug it tight. Ikfael sat beside me, looking at me with concern. I laughed, embarrassed for some reason, and wiped away the tears and snot.

“I’m… I’m okay. The last few weeks have just been a lot, you know?”

Ikfael nodded, but the concern in her eyes didn’t disappear. It was weird—she was usually more snarky and distant. Perhaps our adventures in Albei had brought us closer together. It was a comforting thought.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?”

Ikfael let go of my arm to answer. “Leiluminwei and the silver wolves have chosen to make the river upstream and downstream their territory. I was helping them get settled.”

“Huh. What did you get out of the exchange?”

“Protection. Leiluminwei’s territory surrounds mine, so he has to deal with invaders first. If he and his wolves can’t, though, they fall back to the Glen and we coordinate to eliminate the threats.”

“Yuki told me about how you had worked together during the Long Dark.”

Ikfael sighed. “Normally I hide, but Leiluminwei made an offer I couldn’t resist.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. I wriggled my brows, but that didn’t get her to open up either. Then I stared deeply into her eyes, to which she just stared right back. That was when I noticed that her spirit seemed better. Still dim, yet steadier somehow, like a leak had been plugged.

I realized then that I felt steadier too, relieved. Ikfael was the last family member left I’d had to account for, and I’d now seen all of them alive and well with my own eyes.

A breath left me. The tension I’d been carrying too.

Ikfael patted me on the arm. “I know. I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Unfortunately yes,” she said with another sigh.

After a dinner of grilled badger heart and donuts for dessert, we sat by the fire. Everything was so quiet, not even the wind disturbed us. I shifted to add wood to the flames, but kept the motions small so as to not disturb Ikfael. She slept against my side, woob woob woobing and twitching as she dreamt.

‘There’s so much to love here,’ Yuki said.

I nodded, then gently placed an arm around Ikfael. She snuggled in tighter.

‘The love is worth protecting,’ Yuki added.

How far will we go, though? Ghitha and Inleio thought they were protecting what they loved as well, and look at what they did. The healers too, for that matter. They truly believe in what they’re doing.

‘We have to watch out for each other,’ Yuki said. ‘And there’s also Ikfael and Mumu to help us make decisions. We’re not always going to know what’s right.’

And that was a truth if I’d ever heard one. The more time I spent in this world, the more I recognized the uncomfortable grays between right and wrong.

Once again, I couldn’t help thinking about how useful Borba would’ve been during the Long Dark. In hindsight, it was easy to say that it’d been a terrible mistake to turn him into mule, but if I’d been in Inleio’s shoes, gone through what he’d gone through over the course of his life—countless hunts and Long Darks, losses after losses after losses—maybe I would’ve made the same decision. I hoped not, but after experiencing the temptation to join the healers, maybe the idea wasn’t so far-fetched.

I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but the prayer to Barakas, the one spoken to initiate duels, was nonsensical to me. I mean, I understood it intellectually and even appreciated the sentiment—the desire to prove oneself before your god—but how was it even possible to remain undaunted in the face of a necromancer elk or the Monopolist? Year after year of the world grinding you down, demanding more and more of you.

‘So what’s the answer?’ Yuki asked.

Persistence, I thought, because it was what I knew from my past life. Taking time to rest when it’s available, and never letting the opportunities to find joy pass by unheeded.

I blew out a breath, a weary, accepting sigh, because I recognized that for every enemy I’d made, there was also a friend. For every Borba, a Mumu.

Maybe... maybe being undaunted is like being courageous. In my old world, there was a truism that courage wasn’t the lack of fear, but the doing of what was necessary despite feeling afraid. Which, transposing the idea, it was okay to feel daunted, as long as you faced the difficulties as wholeheartedly as you can.

And I’d done that. Mostly. Imperfectly. The best I knew how.

I would’ve liked, I thought suddenly, not to have blamed Peng’s team for Borba’s escape. I’d figured at the time that they had let their old friendship interfere with their duty, but none of us had truly known what Borba was capable of. They’d surely been surprised by the strength he’d been hiding and hoarding.

All of us were doing what we could. Testing the truth of the world, as Inleio used to say. The truth of ourselves. Diaksha was the grindstone, abrading away the false until a person’s reality was revealed and their true heart uncovered.

That, that was a daunting thought, which meant I had to face it. Like any other fight, I had to confront the world of Diaksha, but in a way true to me. I wouldn’t let its demands pull me astray from my path.

We have to keep doing what we’re doing, I thought. Pursuing the middle road—focusing on getting stronger but not at all costs. We fight on behalf of our family and friends, but we cannot turn into monsters in the process. We share power as well as hoard it.

This world demanded a lot. No path was accomplished in one step. The important thing was to keep moving, to recognize moments of rest and beauty, and then resume the journey.

Because life here was hard. It offered sorrows and joys in unequal measures. To hope or think otherwise would be foolish, so I couldn’t stop. The key to a good life was to face it head on—to meet the challenges even though I might feel overwhelmed by them.

Underneath my thoughts, I felt Yuki’s unwavering support, their love and devotion, so we sat together for a while watching the fire reflect on the nearby snow. Time passed, and my thoughts turned toward my family.

I merged with Yuki briefly to peek in on them in Voorhei, but they were all sensibly asleep. I should’ve probably gone to bed too, but the sky was a beautiful ocean of dark velvet sprinkled with glittering stars. And I didn’t want to disturb Ikfael’s dreams by getting up—just then, she smacked her lips as if she were eating something tasty.

Things would turn out, I thought. Yuki was right. We weren’t alone. And we worked damn hard to keep improving, as did my family—all of my families.

The world was tough, but I’d be okay. After all, I was home.

52

Perspective: Mulallamu

Mumu put down her spoon to stare at her soon-to-be spouses, the bowl of stew temporarily forgotten. She saw them clearly enough—their longhouse had two candle stones to light the snow-bound days—but had she heard their proposition correctly?

“You… want me to give up being lodge master and have Tegen take over?”

Dena, uncharacteristically, looked away, but Haol had that stubborn look he got after he’d carefully decided a particular course was the correct one. Others might disregard him as only having room in his head for archery, but Mumu knew he had a keen mind. Both of her spouses-to-be did; it was what attracted her to them.

The other family members present had all gone quiet, as Dena and Haol broached this important topic of discussion. For a time, the only sounds came from a cousin’s fussing baby and a pair of lolling oxen at the far end of the longhouse.

“You are our sharpest spear,” Haol said, “and we can’t have you stuck at the lodge.”

“And you are Scout Born,” Dena added. “You belong in the woods—not scribbling in books, attending meetings, or training apprentices.”

“The wilderness is where you are happiest,” Haol said. “The place where your path leads you.”

“My path is what I make of it. Inleio entrusted me—”

Dena reached out to hold her hand. “Our Mumu, your mouth speaks once, but the words travel in two directions. Is it your path you walk, or the one Inleio set before you?”

What was this question? Had Mumu done so poorly in the time she’d been lodge master that they’d lost confidence in her leadership? Inleio’s death had struck her hard—she’d admitted that already—but she’d woken from the death craze and remembered to moderate her actions like a proper hunter should.

And she’d done well afterward, putting an end to Borba’s misery and dealing with his consequences. This most recent Long Dark had been the most manageable in years. The loss of Kesa and the others was a source of grief, but otherwise it was almost like they had element-touched back in the lodge. So why would they have her step aside?

“We don’t doubt you.” Frustration leaked into Haol’s voice. He tended to be spare with his words, but not today apparently. “Just let Tegen deal with the messes our hunters make, the debt—”

“You think I can’t handle the responsibility?”

Haol slapped the table. “I didn’t say that.”

“We would never say that,” Dena said.

“Then what is it? Am I so poorly suited to lead our lodge?”

“You are not the burden,” Haol said. “The lodge is the burden; it would weigh you down and blunt your sharpness.”

That… that was a truth Mumu couldn’t deny. The debt incurred by the lodge was a huge weight upon her mind and heart. If not for Eight and his relationships to Honored Yuki and Honored Ikfael, she didn’t know what she would’ve done. But then, neither would have Tegen, Kesa, or even Inleio if he’d been alive at the time. The problem would’ve been insurmountable for a village like theirs.

Except that they had surmounted it, thanks to Eight’s solution, and it was Mumu who’d led them through it. So, once again, she asked, “Why? Why is it wrong to widen my path to accommodate others? The lodge is my family too; I will do what I must to protect it.”

“My love,” Dena said. “That’s exactly what worries us.”

Haol reached over to hold her other hand. “Mmm. Yes, that’s it.”

“We know you, Mulallamu Scout Born,” Dena continued. “You’ll tangle your path and twist it into knots to clear the way for others.”

Haol nodded. “Our friend Tegen is Patient, and he is good at teaching others. With Kesa gone, his spear is second only to yours now, his bow third in the lodge, and most importantly, he can use mana magic. Any other village, any other town, would celebrate him for days as their lodge master.”

“But not me?” Mumu said, her anger rising.

“Of course, you,” Haol bit back. “You’re a blessing to anywhere you are, but your light will shine brighter without... without—”

“Every hunter hanging from your neck,” Dena said, finishing for him.

Mumu snorted at the image conjured by her words. It sounded like something their Little Pot of Questions would say.

“Does that include our Haol?” Mumu asked.

“Of course,” Deana replied. “I won’t deny there are days when I want you all to myself.”

Which elicited the smile Dena had no doubt been trying for. Haol didn’t even make a fuss at the dig. He knew his wife well enough to understand what she was after.

Mumu was loved by these people. The past few weeks had worn away at her confidence, and she’d fought her way back toward it, but that was no reason to doubt her soon-to-be spouses.

Thinking of Little Eight, she wondered what he would make of this dilemma. He’d probably search for one of his “win-win” solutions, like Mumu staying as lodge master while having Tegen do all the tiresome work...

Mumu sat up.

Only the big city lodges assigned deputies or assistants to their masters, yet there was nothing to stop Voorhei from adopting the practice. And it would play to both Mumu and Tegen’s strengths, matching her strategies and leadership with his patience and teaching ability.

This wasn’t a bad idea—not at all. She should thank Eight for it when he comes back from the Glen, although perhaps without any context at first. The confusion on his face would be delightful to see.

“Listen to this, then,” Mumu said, and her spouses-to-be inclined their heads, ready to hear her words.

53

Perspective: Aslishtei

Aslishtei basked in the warm glow and bright chatter of a leisteila full of her people. Magic wove between them as she and the representatives from three other families maintained the Unity spell that strengthened the bonds between them.

For the ritual, she’d taken the east pillar position—not participating in the conversations directly, but still enjoying the beauty of the moment. There was another leisteila planned in a few days, so perhaps then.

Although, she didn’t mind being one of the pillars. The role was important, both for the magical skill required and for the need to guard those participating. Each attendee was open to the people around them, in a heightened state of acceptance.

There were those who would abuse such a power. There were also those who would go to great lengths to yoke the magical abilities of the peltwei to their ambitions. Even now, Little Red watched from high above to see if any dared brave the cold and snow to approach her family’s residence.

Albei was supposed to be a safe place for the peltwei, free from the enslavement so common elsewhere. Ithia’s recent behavior notwithstanding, the land knight typically rewarded hard work and recognized their contributions to the city.

Her people had gotten complacent, Aslishtei thought. In the old days, they would never have allowed something like the North Wind’s murder to happen. It would’ve been inconceivable, and Aslishtei’s heart broke once more at the losses of such a remarkable man and his family.

His surviving grandchildren were among those attending, and the people surrounded them with care, easing their anguish. Everyone in the room felt it; such was the power of the leisteila.

Unity was her people’s strength. The bonds the spell forged meant that all present were family. They would never betray each other, and there would always be refuge as long as one other peltwei lived. No family was free of strife, of course, but the intensity of friction didn’t compare to life outside the peltwei.

Once again, Aslishtei was reminded of the murders, as well as the strife between Albei’s lodges. Among her family and safe from the pressures of the world outside it, she admitted to herself that she’d let her emotions cloud her judgement, rushing her into actions that, in hindsight, were poorly done.

The warmth around her surged to offer comfort, but the truth was the truth. In her sorrow and greed, she’d fumbled her handling of the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge, drastically underestimating their cleverness, resolve, and resources.

The announcement about Honored Ikfael’s Boon had shocked her to her core. Every peltwei in the city had flocked to her to ask about it, and she’d been forced to visit the grinning hunters’ grandmaster for more information.

How could one boy be so blessed? It was maddening and only reinforced the necessity of bringing him into the family. What she’d seen of Eight’s meridians indicated an entirely new approach to developing them; none of the records she’d scoured had hinted of anything remotely similar. The closest she’d come was a great-great-uncle who’d been born with a second heart dantian, but that talent hadn’t passed on to any of his offspring.

Fortunately, her children didn’t find Eight too ugly. He’d been—how did they put it? Shiny enough to be interesting.

Unfortunately, Aslishtei had discovered too late that Voorhei’s hunters responded poorly to pressure. Life in the villages must be nice in that regard, free from the machinations of the various factions. It almost made a peltwei want to see for herself, which... which was an idea worth considering.

Not for Aslishtei herself, of course. She’d not give up city life, even in a rough place like Albei, but it’d be an interesting opportunity for some of the younger folk—opening their horizons to see that the sky covered more than they realized.

Truly, given the benefits of Honored Ikfael’s Boon, Aslishtei probably wasn’t the only one thinking such thoughts. The spring would likely have Voorhei experiencing an influx of new residents, despite the recent murders tarnishing the village’s reputation.

A smart family head would plan for such a thing.

54

Perspective: Xefwen

The hierophant of Albei stood atop the pyramid at the city’s center, hands behind his back. From his vantage, he had an unobstructed view from wall to wall, and he often came here to observe the lines of luck and fate, so that he might interpret what the future would hold.

None saw him, of course. He’d paid good money for the enchantments to hide his presence from the small figures below. Bundled in their furs, they looked like mouse droppings on tiny legs scuttling across the snow-covered plaza.

Their lives were of such limited scope, only touching lightly on fortune’s fault lines. Exceptions existed—they always did—in people like the land knight, the city head, and a handful of others. But the rest? A kalesk could eat them with little to no consequence to the world. Oh, their families would wail and gnash their teeth, but power, power moved on without them.

And there was power here, hidden in the lands around Albei. Why else would a silvered Earth-Touched and Master Diviner have come to a slovenly little outpost at the edge of civilization? Why else put up with the beastly smell and beastlier people, their petty politics and mundane struggles? Xefwen could go anywhere else and be showered in antaak and light.

Alas, wealth and levels were only two facets to the bright gem that was power. Insight was also necessary, an understanding of the bedrock of truths underlying reality. A clarity so penetrating, it changed the soul and how that soul interacted with the world.

There were traditional ways to form soul marks—daily observances, rituals, meditations, and so on—but at Xefwen’s age, the most direct path was by consuming the light from greater beings, and thereby glimpsing their truths. And if the light came from a being with powerful soul marks of their own, then the comprehension was even greater.

Fortune pointed to the ruins of Old Baxteiyel to the southeast, while fate hinted at mysteries to the west. Except none of the expeditions to the ruins had returned successful, and so far the mysteries remained just that, with not even Xefwen’s prodigious skills able to pierce the veils obscuring them.

Recently, however, the greater powers had begun moving, roiling the lines all around him. The disturbance had begun approximately half a year ago when someone or something had started pushing impatiently against fate, fracturing the established foundation and revealing new relationships between the people, spirits, and land.

It’d been like looking through the upturned earth after a great magic—all the insects scurrying, along with the rare sparkle of something more valuable. The truth was that chaos always afforded opportunities to the patient and keen sighted. As pressure mounted on Albei and the land around it, the established lines of luck and fate would buck even more. All he had to do was wait, and his path would be revealed, as would those hiding from it.

Xefwen allowed himself a smile as he stoked the anticipation building inside him. Whether it was Old Baxteiyel or something else, it would only be a matter of time, and then he would have them.