They’d been on the road for two weeks straight, stopping only briefly in towns and cities. The citizens would avoid eye contact and cross the street when they neared.

The Ember Sword’s escort had been comprised of ten men. He was not bound, not stripped of armor. Even his sword was given back to him.

And should I find this to be a lie?

Then there is but one man you’d have to kill to ratify it.

He hadn’t thought that the man in question would be Iros.

Rurik had broken his promise, killing the entirety of Batyr’s men. Iros had remained in the Midtrade City, his fate entirely dependent on this journey's results.

Korschey had not allowed anyone from the South to even speak of a treaty. Any diplomats and any sized escort were shot down before ever reaching the North. He did not know how he ended up an exception to this, but the opportunity would not be wasted.

They had only been a two-day’s ride from Volkograd.

The long journey had turned the men grim and their mood sour. The captain that led the outfit had said something about wanting a night of peace before the ‘pigshit that manned the barracks’ had ruined their good time. They were to be there for two days, two days of rest before they rode straight to the capital.

None of the soldiers opted to stay nearby. A small inn with a handful of rooms had been cleared for them with a letter from Rurik. From there, all had left almost immediately to find food, drink, and the scummiest brothel the weight of their coin purses allowed.

The Ember Sword had been the only remaining nearby - finding a tavern across the street.

The Wobbly Wench.

The name had not been reassuring of not being a brothel, but upon entering, he’d immediately known that not a single woman would ever step foot in there –money or not.

It smelled of the sort of body odor that only lived on old, beaten-down men. The smell of stale beer crusted on the tables, floors, and walls was expected. What was not expected was the layer of straw lining the floor that smelled vaguely of piss. He’d turned to leave before the last of his self-respect drowned in one of the barrels. But, somewhere inside, someone called out to him.

“My god-s! Well, aren’t you ugly.”

The Ember Sword turned, looking for the man. He saw the red beard first, before the rounded mountain of a man behind it.

“And don’t you have such a pleasant singing voice?” He said. The big man laughed, revealing two rows of chipped and broken teeth.

“Have a s-eat, friend.”

The Ember Sword sat down heavily across the table from the man.

“Well met. I am… the Ember Sword.” How uncomfortable it was to introduce yourself by what had been basically a title.

“Well met, quite the name.” The man downed nearly half his mug in between words. “Yaro-slav.”

He wiped his beard off and must have bumped his mouth because he winced and groaned in pain.

“What happened?”

“Ohh - a critter in the hill-s.”

“Hardly looks like the work of a rabbit.”

“Two rabbit-s…” Yaroslav muttered under his breath. “Nahh, came acro-ss a Vindigo.”

The Ember Sword leaned back in his chair, looking at the man with no small amount of admiration.

“You crossed a Vindigo in the winter and kept as many teeth as you did? I am impressed.” He said. “I’ve met a man who ate his teeth in the thralls of its storm. And his arms.”

“What happened to you then, friend?” Yaroslav asked. “S-tory for a s-tory.”

The dark man grinned.

“Not near as interesting as yours.” The Ember Sword said dismissively. “You are a hunter, then?”

“Ah.” He shook his head yes. “Retired.”

“Does one truly ever retire?”

“Too old. Too old for the Deep Wood, too old for the Wound-s.” The red-bearded man waved his arm to the barmaid across the establishment.

“So what is next for you then? The Capital? You do not seem to be from the North.” The Ember Sword observed.

“Good eye, my friend, and a good ear. Didn’t think you could hear an accent over thi-s non-sense.” Yaroslav nodded his thanks as two more beer mugs were set down on the table. “I’m not headed anywhere. Recovering, you s-ee.”

His eyes squinted slightly, considering the Ember Sword.

“How do you know of Vindigo-s? You a hunter?”

“Retired.”

“Ahah!” Yaroslav laughed heartily. “Don’t know of any critter that doe-s that.”

“A phoenix.” The Ember Sword grinned, earning another loud laugh from the red-bearded man.

“Fine then! Remain a my-stery. Bet all the ladie-s love that.”

“Lining up and out the door, my friend.”

Yaroslav laughed so hard that the table shook.

“Well then! Tell me, you are bound for the capital?” He asked as the laugh faded. “Mu-st be.”

The Ember Sword nodded.

“Afraid I can’t speak of that either.”

“Everyone headed there nowday-s.” Yaroslav’s face lost a little bit of its mirth.

“I must go.” The Ember Sword pushed his mug away in a finalizing gesture. “We have ridden a long, long way. Thank you for the company. I wish you well.”

“It was a plea-sure.” The red-bearded man said, shaking his hand.

Before the Ember Sword had stepped out the threshold of the Wobbly Wench, Yaroslav called out again.

“You s-ure you don’t wanna tell me what happened to ya?” Yaroslav motioned in a circle around his own face.

“It was a barn fire.”

----------------------------------------

Again, Ivan disappeared for several hours. He never offered for her to come with, nor did he provide any good explanation - only a vague answer was always given, such as taking a walk or looking for a seamstress or cobbler for his shoes.

It was interesting that his boots had always remained dirty and worn.

Although curious, she had made it a point not to press him. His choice not to mention his whereabouts had almost seemed a game.

Plus, this allowed Val to bring Arachne out.

The spider continued to keep her company, spinning different web patterns across various objects. Val was fascinated with the ingenuity that it wielded, although she always tore down the web when she heard footsteps in the hall. The spider did not seem to mind, the face on its back remaining indifferent.

It was the night before Lady Katerina had requested their presence. When they returned from the gates, Ivan had almost immediately taken off. A few hours later, he returned with dumpling soup and fresh pumpernickel bread.

This time, she could not help herself.

“Where is it that you go?” She asked as they sat down to eat. He must have recognized how determined her face had been this time because he set his spoon down in the bowl, looking first serious, then a bit embarrassed.

“I go to play cards.” He said simply, shrugging to diffuse the tension when she had become uneasy.

Val held some feelings about gambling that may have been stronger than she ever let on. Unfortunately, she did not catch her expression in time.

“Oh.”

He sat forward.

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“Look, I know it is not particularly… legal. But,” further embarrassment, “anyone and everyone who was supposed to pay my soldier’s wage kind of died.”

“I have money.”

“And I would like to retain some dignity.” He shook his head. “I am not accustomed to this. My family had plenty of money to spare.”

He trailed off and then sat back as if considering something. His face changed, and he stood, walking to his coat. He produced something wrapped carefully in paper out of the pocket and held it out to her.

“I’m quite good, you know.” He said, his eyes nervously on the package. “It is not often I walk away with less than I started.”

She took the package and carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing folded-up black leather. As she held it up, she saw that it was a pair of thin, elbow-length gloves.

“Gods…” She whispered, looking them over. They were beautiful.

“It’s made of a Nothing-touched from Chelkalka, although he would not tell me which. Since the River Cities are gone, no one can restrict hunting there.” He told her, a slight smile appearing on his face at the look on hers. “I play with a master cordwainer. He only sells to the High District, but he lost dearly to me one night, and I commissioned them in place of taking him for everything down to his shoes. I thought, maybe these would help the cuts.”

She felt a lump in her throat. No one had ever gifted her anything like this before.

Val stood, pushing her chair so hard it left a scape on the wooden floors. She threw her arms around him and kissed him with such urgency that they both stumbled a step backward. She remained pressed to his chest, making one sniffling noise as she tried desperately not to cry at his thoughtfulness.

He smiled so widely now; it had been the most genuine and delighted smile she had ever seen. As she sobbed into his chest, he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Can I assume I am forgiven?”

She could only nod.

When they arrived in the High District after a short, unpleasant experience at the gates, it had become clear that neither of them had truly seen luxury before.

The streets were completely cleared of snow, the bright white stones below glinting in the light. Down their sides were built short marble columns, and every other one was adorned with the shape of a white horse’s head. No home stood next to the road, they had all been positioned far and hidden by trees and intricately shaped shrubbery - still green beneath the snow.

Now, being much closer to the towers, they saw how truly large they were. Full of windows and balconies, they stood as mountains. Here were the colors of the city. Here were the painted walls and roofs. Only a handful of merchant stores popped up along the way, each reminding Val of Void&Co in their grandeur.

They arrived at the Obsidian Palace shortly.

Neither had ever seen a building that tall or that wide. It spanned such a great distance that twenty of the lavish homes side by side would still not have been as large.

Littered with windows and white statues of ugly beasts, the stones comprising its walls had been polished and completely unmarred by the weather.

Where they had pulled up a grand staircase stood. It, too, spanned a great distance, both wide and tall. What looked like hundreds of steps led to doors that looked to be made entirely of gold.

The two were led up, losing their breath rather fast and in a very undignified way. Val felt sweat run down her back by the time they had made it to the landing.

Somewhere in these halls was Korschey.

The thought had filled her with dread. She spent so long trying to hide from him, afraid that she would be captured and raped for the sake of giving him a god-child. Now, she’d arrived at his front door.

It had been nearly seven years, and she wondered if he had looked for her still. And if he had, would anyone even recognize her? His general, Johannes, was the only one who truly knew her face. And, he was dead—dead a long, long time.

They were led through halls with incredibly tall ceilings. Here, the walls were as paintings that stretched from golden door to golden door. Chandeliers were hung along the top, each burning rows of thick white candles that produced no smoke.

The walk took longer than the carriage ride, and neither spoke while taking in the whole palace. Finally, the steward brought them to a set of double doors.

“Lady Katerina’s apartments.” He said, his voice sounding grand. “She requested that I not accompany you inside. So, I will take my leave.”

He pulled the door handle and opened it for them.

Lady Katerina’s rooms were just as opulent. The front room was filled with roses and lilies, the smell intoxicating in the most beautiful ways. The creature sat atop a soft-looking white couch and did not stand as they walked inside.

“My guests!” She exclaimed, and Val noted with aversion that Ivan’s face had flushed again at the sight of the thing. His eyes fell as if for the fear of staring too much. “Do make yourself comfortable.”

She swept her hand across the room, and each sat in high-backed chairs on either side of the couch. They were so soft that Val had thought that sitting in a cloud might feel the same.

“So.” Lady Katerina began. “I do not wish to drag this out.”

She looked at Ivan silently for what felt like an entire minute. He looked up in a panic.

“What?” He mumbled.

“So he is not as you are, my darling.” Lady Katerina observed. “What is this man to you? Can we speak freely?”

For a moment, Val considered it. So she tried to keep Ivan from these things so hard. But maybe it was time.

He looked at her questioningly.

“He is not. But we can.” She answered, meeting his eyes. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever would happen next. The creature had not seemed hostile, but… you could not trust the Nothing-touched. Not even ones that had not demonstrated their monstrosity. Not even ones she had considered friends.

“Very well then.” Lady Katerina nodded. “What are you?”

“I don’t know.” Val shook her head.

“But, you can feel the threads?”

Val nodded.

“How intriguing.” The creature sat back against the backrest. “You do not smell of the mortal stink. Yet, you do not smell like the pesky little vermin that haunt this world. My, but I must figure you out! How did you come to know this?”

For a moment, Val thought of lying. There was no reason to tell the truth, but this had been the only way that she could get to the palace, and, she did not think she would get that lucky twice.

“The Hag had imprisoned me for many years.” She said. “And when I escaped, she haunted me still in my dreams. She had reached out. And then, I could just - reach back.”

The creature’s smile again grew from just beyond her ear and across.

“You see the Mother? Oh my, oh my.” She folded her hands on her lap elegantly. This was difficult to watch as her wrinkly blue-gray hands with their long, creepy fingers came together. “And, this was by the Great Oak?”

“It was in the Glade.”

“So, yes.” The creature looked thoughtful for a minute. “You soaked in the corruption - this is highly unusual! For all my centuries, I have never heard of this happening. Why, people spend their whole lives living next door to a Wound and never so much as feel a speck of it. She must have truly wound her tendrils through you. How long?”

“Almost half my life, more now.”

Val looked at Ivan’s face. He was wide-eyed, and his jaw clenched to where the muscles strained.

“And, what of the names? Why had you called out to me, giving me your name?” She asked. Val, again, questioned if honesty was proper here.

“I’ve learned that it is how I create a binding. I cannot touch the threads unless I do, at least with most of them. If they do not give me their name, I give mine.”

“This is not wise, my darling.” The creature scooted to the edge of the couch then stood, the skirts of its dress rustling loudly. “Let us have tea.”

It led the way to the next room. The windows there were so large they took up an entire wall. A small table stood in the middle among yet even more bouquets.

All three sat down. With so little space, it had been an intimate setting.

“What else? There must be something else, and I would know it. Then, I will let you ask, and I will be as honest as you have been.” The creature announced.

This had been too great of an offer. She saw that clearly, this thing knew far more than Sirin.

“There is something else.” She said, hesitantly. “I am a Golden. That is why she kept me.”

The creature’s smile disappeared entirely. Its absence ran a cold, hard chill down Val’s spine.

“Don’t lie to me!” She hissed. “I can smell your nasty lies! I can always smell the nasty lies!”

Her voice made Ivan flinch as if he heard the voice beneath the one that had been beautiful and rich.

“I am not lying!” Val became nervous, and, she realized - scared. Her voice was high, shaky. “She’d called me it, and then in the River Cities, I’d passed the test.”

The creature seemed to calm.

“That, too, is interesting.” She mused, her sweet voice erasing all memory of her wrathful words.

“Well, there is but one way that you could have extinguished it.” Lady Katerina said. “You must have borne a god-child then? Where is he? Tell, and I will know if you lie.”

Val felt Ivan’s eyes burning into her, and she would not meet them.

“I have not.” Val shook her head. “The All-Mother at the River Cities seemed to think that I would. They fed me poisonous herbs. And then, I felt something strange. I felt it for less than a month.”

“You lost the god-child?” The creature’s eyebrows raised. “A pity, but not as rare as one would think. Hardly any make it to term. What a waste. Too bad you won’t get the chance again.”

It straightened in her chair, taking a dainty sip of tea.

Val still could not look at Ivan.

“Ask then, you may have as many questions as I have asked of you. Eleven in all.”

Val felt relief and, at the same time, curiosity. There was so much she wanted to ask… but there was no blessing without a curse, and she did not wish to meet the curse of this thing. First, she had to know.

“What are you?” She asked.

“A Skriga.” The creature answered, not looking to elaborate.

“How do you feed?”

“You ask the right questions, my darling.” Again, the haunting smile. “I feed on the lies and gossip of the courts. Chaos of mortal psyche, one could say. Of course, now and then, I drain a man or two of blood and make it known he’s run off with a wench. It fills the need on both ends.”

“Do you know where the Hag is?” Val asked, both relieved to know that the creature was not an immediate threat - and disgusted at its nature.

“The Mother decorates the royal room, of course.”

“The royal room?”

“The gathering place of the court. You’ve wasted a whole question. Seven more.”

Finally, Val looked at Ivan. His eyes did not meet hers. Instead, with a blank expression, he stared down into his tea. Small loose leaves floated at the top of the water.

“I felt something terrible happen not too long ago - maybe a month. Do you know what it was? I have not heard her speak to me since.”

“Now you, too, ask the interesting questions.” The creature replied. “I could pretend I do not know of what you speak. But, a deal is a deal.”

It took a deep breath.

“Very little is known to me of that day. The court was banished to their dwellings the whole day. Around midday, I heard a call, but it was not coming from the halls. It was coming from within. It screamed so loudly that it rattled my bones. It brought me to my knees. As it bound my name, I saw my death within it.” It answered. “And, creatures such as I do not fear death - as it is but a cycle of the sun until I again see the light of day. But this… it had felt as final as could be. Then, silence.”

Val watched its face. She, too, remembered the feel of the scream. She felt it tenfold then.

“Do you know why it happened?” Val asked.

“The little gossip mice in the court said the King had tortured the Mother in the royal room. They said he took an iron to her, and they’d pushed it all the way inside - I, too, felt its burn.” The creature answered.

“She cried out a word. Do you know what it was?” As soon as it left her mouth, Val thought it was careless to ask a question she already knew the answer to.

“She cried for the Sisters. Another Daughter, but far - far from here. Four more.”

Val thought, trying to be careful of what she asked.

“I’d like to return the questions to you,” she said slowly, “if, instead, I can ask for a favor.”

The creature’s face lit up.

“Clever!!” She exclaimed so loud both of her guests flinched. “And oh, but I like clever! Very well, ask, and I shall grant it.”

“I want you to arrange for me to see the Hag alone.”

The creature thought, then nodded.

“It can be done. But only by the cover of night. Tonight. Those are my terms.”

“And I want to leave here freely and unscathed,” Val added. The terms were too vague. It was too easy to misstep.

This earned her a grotesque grin.

“Clever, once more. Very well. You will stay here until then. I will not have it known that you have come late in the night.”

It looked at Ivan.

“Say your goodbyes now, lest the Mother eat your lover, and be on your way.”