Ari didn’t kill him then and there.

What was it that Max used to say? ‘Sometimes, we justify our own actions afterwards. You have to understand: your own justification isn’t always the truth.’

There were justifications-a-plenty for not killing Hesperus. Was she strong enough to slice his neck, to press the blade into his carotid artery before he burned her to a crisp? But she didn’t need to. Was there a way to get away with it afterwards? Of course there was. The fields they passed offered endless possibilities: black hellebores, death cap mushrooms, and the rosary peas that they sold in the marketplace, decorating the chambermaid’s wrist. Was there enough evidence, putting two and two together: the cooked wine and his blue flames; the crow’s memories and his missing friend; his research into other worlds and the woven symbols of mourning and vengeance that – upon second thoughts – Silver had tried to return to him? Was it enough for her to believe that Agent Hannah Temple had, to her detriment, replaced Lord Selvan or Lady Mona when she first arrived in this world?

Here she was, sitting among the consequences of some schoolgirls’ games, in the carriage where she’d chosen not to kill him, but to head to his manor and question Nanny Jesse, because justifications aside, she didn’t want to.

The seven-pointed throwing star that she’d picked up from Silver pressed into her palm. Though it belonged to Susu in this world, it had once been tattooed into her scalp, a symbol of the Institute, and of the vow that she’d taken upon becoming a full-fledged Agent: from this day, we are one, united in the fight against wrong doers, to bring death upon those who deserve it, to gift our enemies the ultimate mercy when they beg for mercy, whether they are women or children, and to avenge our brothers and sisters, always.

Always. Did always stretch across different worlds? Was their time woven from the same fabric? Must she fulfil a vow she’d uttered from a different set of lips? She pulled, yet there were a thousand invisible threads holding her up, pulling her back, as if she was a marionette instead of a… a… murderer.

~It’s just the training.~

~You said before, didn’t you, that you thought we were characters in a book? Well, I have seen a good many playwrights invoke Acren, the Child of Wine and Dreams, to inspire them and bring their characters to life. We might be made by the Creator, but we are created with the blessing to exceed the Creator’s expectations. If you think that your hands are tied now that you are in this world, they are not. The only rope that binds you is your training, much like mine.~

Outside her carriage window, Hesperus’s warhorse trotted beside them. How many bodies had it been trained on before it first set foot in the battlefield, amongst the noise and bloodshed?

*

‘Maraṇasati meditation.’ Her training amongst the bodies, suspended in the air, inches away from mortal fate. ‘It’s a… calming Buddhist meditation. It helps you practise the acceptance of death.’

They’d been served rice pudding in the morning: an unusual choice.

Sliding open the doors to the grey, windowless concrete cube that squatted behind the main Institute building, the Chief ushered the trainee Agents inside; one step closer to duty.

The smell hit her even before she stepped across the threshold.

‘Welcome to the Cube!’ cried Mrs Hart. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy your visit. Connor has a weak constitution, but you’re different, aren’t you, Ari.’

So she looked, because she had to live up to Mrs Hart’s expectations. Inside, floodlights lit up the darkness, leaving no details hidden in the shadows.

The grains near the dead man’s mouth looked like unwiped rice pudding. Then they writhed.

*

~I was trained to be polite.~ Claribel filled her head with coloured Aquilon glass, swirling into shapes over the warm glow of the furnace, a hand stretched out to receive a glass horse as beautiful as Hesperus’s, the other hand tucked in her father’s. They shone brighter than the white beads that should no longer bother her. ~However, when someone is exceedingly rude, it is possible for me to overcome that training and be rude back to them, as you have seen. You were trained like a soldier. It is difficult to disobey an order…~ Her ghostly spirit turned to the window too. ~And by doing so, you may become a villain in someone else’s eyes, but I think it takes courage to be true to yourself.~

If she was true to herself, she’d have acquired her old body, adopted Luna and Sora, and used her well-honed skills to dog-nap Silver too. They’d spend all day on winding, countryside walks. They’d wade through trickling streams, gather purple flowers, make a memorial for Max. Beyond that, she had no courage to imagine, to be drunk on a peace that was never to be hers.

But now, to clear a name that wasn’t hers from a murder she didn’t commit, she pulled upon the most hopeful lead they’d received so far. A distraction.

*

Sir Edwin was scrubbing the front of Hesperus’s house when they arrived, mirroring the gentle limp that Nanny Jesse displayed today.

‘Pass the mop!’ he called to the man she’d spotted grooming Hesperus’s horse during her last visit – Finn’s father. ‘By Lady Una’s gut-wringing arms, birds must really hate you. Why is there so much shit?’

Ari thought of the one-legged crow. If Hannah Temple was taking her own type of revenge, was it enough?

‘Good day, my lady!’ He waved when she alighted the carriage. ‘It is not for me! I have been granted such a frosty welcome upon my arrival. Why doesn’t anyone love a coroner? That old man over there–’

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

‘I am only three years your senior.’ Finn’s father scowled at him, though his mouth held a hint of a smile.

‘Old. He hasn’t even heard of any of Zarto’s songs. Here. What’s this? Greeeeensleeeeeves was alllll my joy…’ He sang, and caught the look on her face; though Claribel had sung it before, it still felt jarring to hear a song stolen from her world credited to a fake composer. ‘See? My lady knows it too, because she is one of the youths. You’re probably only familiar with ‘Under the Lime Tree’.’

Hesperus flinched at the name of the song, but Sir Edwin chattered on, charmed by the sound of his own voice. ‘That’s my mother’s favourite song. One for your generation. As I was saying, old man Sean there said I smelled like rotting bodies, which, to be fair, is an occupational perfume for coroners across the country. Then he told me I couldn’t possibly smell worse, which is a blatant lie, because, hey, I could apprentice myself to a tanner!’

Hesperus flinched again, and his warhorse pawed the ground.

‘Luckily, old man Sean only offered to enrichen my odour with one type of animal excrement. Bird shit isn’t half as bad as the cow piss and dog dung that a tanner has to wallow in. Please excuse my vulgar roots, my lady. Your leather boots are quite beautiful. No need to dwell on where it’s been.’

Ari tilted her head back towards the carriage and called, ‘Fabia, are you coming along?’

His face blanched. She waited a heartbeat, until he was almost the same colour as the corpses that formed his social circle, much like her own, then said, ‘She’s not actually here. I think she’s gone to court a tanner. There’s nothing better than a good, honest, hardworking man.’

‘Then I’d better get on with the scrubbing. No worries, Sean, I don’t need a mop. I can scrub this on my hands and battle-scarred knees.’ He recovered his smile in a flash, which she attributed to his high [Dexterity]. ‘Anything to sweeten you up before I take your accounts.’

‘I knew it!’ Nanny Jesse cried, turning full pink, and threw a dirty flannel in his direction. ‘I knew you were after something.’

‘Very wise,’ Sean muttered under his breath, ‘considering he’s a coroner and all. Do you want to take an account from all of us? I’m not sure how much I can be of help. I hardly knew the man.’

‘Which is why we’ll start with the lovely Nanny Jesse. Don’t look so alarmed, my good woman. Both Lady Claribel there and the ever-good-humoured Hesperus have given their accounts – very willingly, I might add, in both cases. Yes, yes, look at him now. I can see how much he’s itching to give another account.’

Hesperus glared back and led his horse towards the backyard, where Finn’s playground had gathered several more piles of hay.

‘Shall we?’ Sir Edwin kicked away the dirty flannel and ushered Nanny Jesse inside.

There, by the hearth, where one of Finn’s toys lay on its side, Nanny Jesse beckoned them closer. She gathered her skirts and her thoughts. ‘Actually, I’d be delighted to give you my account. There’s something you must know. Before my dear, dear Tristram passed onto the Fated One, he had a truly fiery argument with Hesperus. It was horrible! I know it might not be important, but it didn’t feel right keeping it to myself. Come here. I’ll tell you everything.’

And she did.

After the Battle of Eirene, Tristram had taken to wine and ale.

He’d been partial to it for quite some years, but never quite like that. Unfortunately, it bothered Hesperus, who asked him to consider the boy’s father. That was when it blew up.

‘Consider the boy’s father?! Why don’t you consider me? After everything we’ve been through, you’re telling me to consider the boy’s father? Who the fuck is he? Some rat you found by the roadside?’

‘I’ll not have you talk of Sean that way.’

‘You’ll not have me talk that way? Hes, Hes, Hes… Have you forgotten? I am the Duke of Taur. I will not have you look down on me too. Even if the lands of Taur have been–’

‘Your Grace, have you forgotten that you are a guest in my house? I have allowed you to remain here out of respect for our past friendship, and what’s happening to Lady Malory isn’t right… But that doesn’t give you a right to drink in Sean’s presence. Do you know how hard it was for that man to turn away from his ale? He doesn’t need to see you stumble in, stinking of the stuff. I’ve put up with it for a full week out of consideration for our past friendship. Enough is enough. Either you pull yourself together, or you get out of here.’

‘Is our friendship worth so little to you?’

‘That’s what I’d like to know. Is it? We fought, back-to-back, and now this? Is our friendship worth so little to you? Less than the wine and the ale?’

Both of them stayed silent for a long time after that, and then Tristram ordered her to pack a small bag with his coin and some clothing.

He shouted at her when she tried to follow him, then grabbed his horse and rode out into the unknown. That was the last she ever saw of him.

‘It wasn’t really the unknown, was it?’ said Sir Edwin when she was finished. ‘You knew the tavern he was known to frequent.’

‘You might have known, sir, but I certainly didn’t. That isn’t the sort of establishment a respectable woman should visit,’ Nanny Jesse said with a huff.

Ari gasped, overloud. ‘I… well… I was just visiting that very establishment earlier today. I definitely lost my respect somewhere in there, probably in the goldfish pond. Goldfish will eat anything. Anyway, they served me cod and a lot of codswallop. Madame Lucretia mentioned that you owe her gold.’ She leaned in and flashed Nanny Jesse a toothy smile, more Ari than Claribel. ‘Do you need help paying it back? For old times’ sake, I’d hate for anything to happen to you.’

‘I… I…’

Sir Edwin shook out a piece of parchment that’d been tucked in his gambeson. ‘I have Tristram’s will here, which... I see you’ve perked up already. Any idea how much he left you, my questionably good woman? I can tell you here and now, you will be getting ten gold crowns for the services you’ve provided to him and his family. Provided you haven’t killed the man, of course. Otherwise, all you’ll get is a rope to hang yourself with. Looking pleased, aren’t we?’

‘Of course I’m pleased with ten crowns!’ Nanny Jesse glared at Sir Edwin, her round doe eyes filling with tears. ‘I might not look it, but I am fifty this year. My leg likes to remind me of the fact. I have spent all my youth looking after Malory and Tristram, loving them like they were my own. I am now fifty, unmarried, and alone in the world. There are no more children in the Taur line, and even if there were, my bones would struggle with the work. They really would. So is it a crime for me to be pleased to have ten crowns to live my remaining years in peace?’

‘And to pay back the five that you owe Madame Lucretia,’ added Ari.

‘Yes, how convenient. Pray, tell me,’ Sir Edwin checked his notes, ‘how do you know Lord Coell?’

Glaring at them both, she said, ‘I’ve spoken to him precisely once. I thought he was there to thank me on behalf of the family, being their next of kin, distant as they are. Instead, like the noble that he was, he offered to pay me mere farthings to cook and clean for his school! I am a woman of letters. I have educated a duke. Yet all he could see was a woman past her prime, good for scrubbing his floors. I thought he’d be one of the good ones.’ She shook her head at Ari. ‘I thought you were one of the good ones too, but you have been very rude to me today. Never mind. I will be taking my ten crowns and getting out of here, because, if you must know, dear sir coroner, I did not kill Tristram.’

With that, she smoothed her skirts and marched out into the garden.