Saryth woke in the night to a bed he recognised, in a room he knew, not just by the squeak of the mattress under him and the feel of the patterned quilt on top, but by the shape of the shadows on the ceiling and the sound of breathing in the dark. It was familiar but somehow wrong, and he sat up, confused. Pale moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, picking out Kite’s blond hair spread over the pillows of the other bed. She mumbled something and shifted in her sleep.

Last time I slept here - lived here - I slept in this room alone.

Smiling to himself, he lay back down again, and further thoughts were banished by sleep.

When he next woke, the little room was filled with bright light. He put his arm over his face, squinting.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” came a familiar voice from the window. Saryth pushed himself up and blinked at her.

“Jig? Is it morning already?”

“Lunchtime, actually,” she said, and smirked.

“I slept that late? Where’s Kite?”

“Later. You slept for two days straight. And Kite’s gone shopping with Pyetr and Aeryn.”

Saryth digested that for a moment. Two days? It didn’t feel like that long. But he had been very tired after the prolonged spellwork in Nordrnaess, followed by the gate creation. He looked around, but the room was missing something very important.

“Where are my clothes?”

“They’ll be dry soon,” Jig said, and went to the linen shelves by the door, tugging out several items of clothing which she held out to him. “Pyetr says these should fit you.”

“Oh, thank you.” He put the clothes on the bed, then looked uncertainly at Jig. “Um...”

“I’m going, I’m going. There’s lunch when you’re ready.” She grinned as she shut the door behind her. Saryth shook out the bundle of cloth she’d passed him to find a long-sleeved top, short tunic and trousers, all of which fit, more or less. Pyetr kept a huge array of clothes for the various guests he hosted, Kite’s people on their way between the worlds. But I never saw anyone while I was staying here. Did he ask them not to come? Or do they not come here often?

There was water in a small barrel by the door, so he splashed his face and wiped it with one of the towels on the shelves. Then he pulled his hair back into the usual ponytail, tied on the eye patch, which Pyetr had left on the shelf, and stepped out of the room after Jig. The scent of grilled bread and tomatoes came drifting up the spiral stairs, and his stomach rumbled. I suppose I haven’t eaten for two days either.

The curtains which separated the little hall from the circular dining area were open, framing a small, solemn figure at the other side of the table. For a moment the red hair fooled him, but Jig was making a cheerful clattering in the kitchen beyond, so this must be -

“Aethelric,” he said, coming through the curtains, and the boy met his gaze briefly, then looked away, a shadow crossing his face.

“Ready for lunch, then?” Jig called.

“Yes please!” Saryth sat down next to Aethelric, who eyed him sideways, stared at the table, took a deep breath and finally managed to speak.

“Saryth,” he said, and he sounded so uncertain that Saryth was suddenly doubtful of his identity all over again. Was this the stoic, decisive boy they’d spoken to in Nordrnaess? “I, um, thank you for rescuing me,” Aethelric managed. He laced his fingers in front of him, so clearly uncomfortable that Saryth wanted to fidget in sympathy.

“You’re welcome,” he said, hoping to set the boy at ease. “It’s good to see you awake again.”

“I didn’t think I was going to wake up.” There was an odd note in Aethelric’s voice, but at that moment Jig plonked a plate down in front of Saryth, followed by a mug of tea.

“Thanks!”

She grinned at his enthusiasm and went back through to the kitchen. Saryth glanced at Aethelric, who was scowling at the table.

“Would you rather not have woken up?” he asked, as gently as he could manage. Aethelric flinched, then turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut as though in pain.

“I sometimes think so,” he said, and then he looked back at Saryth, a kind of desperation showing in his face. “I’m awake, but I still can’t walk. I can’t go home, not ever. Even if, even if Drogo dies,” he swallowed, “if I go home, I would undo the sacrifice.”

“But you weren’t sacrificed,” Jig said as she came back from the kitchen, with an emphasis that made Saryth suspect they’d had this conversation before. Aethelric glared at her as she yanked a chair out and sat down opposite them.

“Yes, I was!” he snapped. “Just because I’m not dead doesn’t mean it’s not a sacrifice. It is to them, and it is to me.”

“Hmf.” Jig put her chin in her hand and scowled at the wall. Aethelric stared at the table. Saryth managed two mouthfuls of breakfast - lunch - before the boy burst out again.

“And how do you stand it?”

“Sorry?”

“Jig told me what happened to you,” Aethelric said. “Your eye. That you stayed here for months, on Pyetr’s charity.” Charity? But there wasn’t time to pursue that thought. Aethelric was trying to hide incipient tears as he went on, “I can’t ever repay him. I feel so useless!”

“You’re not useless, silly,” Jig said, still staring at the wall. “No-one who’s alive is useless.” Then she turned her scowl back to Aethelric. “And Pyetr’s not helping you to get something back. He’s doing it because he thinks it’s a good thing to do. Because he wants to.”

“Well, I want to repay him,” Aethelric said stubbornly.

“He told me to do it for someone else, and that would be repayment enough.” They’ve definitely had this argument before. Aethelric turned back to Saryth.

“What did you do?” he asked, and Saryth remembered saying goodbye to Pyetr, remembered his own inability to express his gratitude, because there weren’t enough words for it, not in all the libraries in all the world. Worlds. In the end, there had only been one thing he could say. I don’t suppose it’s going to satisfy Aethelric, though.

“I said thank you,” he replied, and Aethelric looked away with a frown. Saryth turned his attention back to his plate, concentrating on what was left of his breakfast, aware that Aethelric was wrestling his thoughts in silence beside him, and that he had not been as much help as he would have liked to have been. But - I don’t think anyone can give Aethelric what he wants right now. I don’t think he even knows what it is that he wants.

He did manage to clean his plate before the next interruption, which was the return of Kite, Pyetr and Aeryn.

“Hey!” Kite called through the curtain as Pyetr shut the front door behind them. “Is Saryth up yet?”

“Kite!” he said, turning to greet her as she came through and plonked the basket of food on the table. Aeryn copied her silently. Jig got up and started poking through the baskets, sorting food into piles according to some unknown criterion; fresh bread and cheese, fruit and small sweet cakes on one side, eggs, onions, potatoes and cabbage on the other.

“Sleep well?” Kite asked, turning to Saryth.

“Yes, thanks!”

“It’s a lovely day, so we’re going to have a picnic!”

“But I can’t go outside,” Saryth said, wilting in the face of her grin as his stomach announced its willingness to participate in the plan. Jig, who had started repacking the picnic-friendly food in the baskets, was smirking unhelpfully.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Wear this,” Kite said, and produced a small hooded cape from somewhere. He eyed it dubiously. “And bring Aethelric,” she added. “Come on!”

“How are you feeling, Saryth?” Pyetr asked, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Better,” Saryth said, without opening his eye. Pyetr had given him a cold damp towel for his head, and he no longer felt dizzy, but the idea of moving was still unwelcome.

“I still can’t believe you got heatstroke in spring,” Jig said, as she headed out through the curtains. Saryth glared at her as best he could without moving his head.

“You weren’t the one wearing a hood and cape and carrying Aethelric.”

Jig stuck her tongue out and escaped up the stairs. “Night!” she called back over her shoulder.

“Shall I make tea?” Kite asked, coming back into the room.

“I’ll do it,” Pyetr said, standing up. “We have quite a bit to discuss, don’t we? You should make a start.”

“Yes, we do.” Kite sighed and sat down next to Saryth, clasping her hands in her lap and bowing her head in thought. Pyetr went to the hob and started on the tea.

“The problem is Vorannen,” Kite began, and Saryth started in surprise, then winced as his head protested. But of course Aeryn and Aethelric were already upstairs. Last time Kite and Pyetr had discussed world-walking, he and Jig had been sent out of the house. He felt the thrill of inclusion at the same time as a vague sense of disquiet. “We can’t return Aeryn,” Kite went on, “until he stops looking for him.”

“You’re certain Aeryn is the sun?”

“It seems likely.”

“It’s definitely him Vorannen is calling,” Saryth said, wanting to remind them both that he was present and that he had something to contribute.

“I must agree. His, mm, being feels odd.” Pyetr swirled the tea leaves in the pot. “And time is running out, so it’s worth a try. How do you plan to deal with Vorannen?”

“I don’t know,” Kite said. “It’s not just power he’s after. He’s highly intelligent, and a sorcerer. He’s after knowledge.” Her clasped hands trembled slightly but her voice was steady.

“You could give it to him.” Pyetr made the suggestion lightly, but it wasn’t a joke. Both Kite and Saryth gaped at him.

“Tell him about the abyss?” Kite said, aghast.

“It sounds like he’s nearly there as it is. A bit of guidance might be a good thing. It’s not safe, after all.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s an option, anyway.” Pyetr came over with two mugs, and Saryth managed to sit up enough to take his tea. “What if persuasion isn’t enough? Have you considered -”

“No!” Kite snapped, making him jump. She looked furious. “Never. I couldn’t!”

“Well, then,” Pyetr said mildly, “you’ll just have to be your most charming.”

Saryth eyed Kite with concern, but all she said in reply was “will you be all right to take care of Aeryn?”

“Yes, and Aethelric too. Don’t be too long, though. Have you thought about your route?”

“We need to find a similar world, so we can provoke a natural gate. Vorannen will spot anything else.”

“Maps, hmm?” Pyetr went to the cupboard in the corner of the room. For all the weeks Saryth had lived in the house, he’d never seen that cupboard opened. Now Pyetr folded back the door to reveal an enormous array of rolls of thick paper standing on end, which he riffled through with a sure touch. “Somewhere here... ah, yes.” He pulled out four or five and brought them back to the middle of the room. “Here. A bit old, but still valid. Do you know what you need?”

“Yes, thanks,” Kite said, shifting to sit on the floor. Saryth sat down beside her as Pyetr spread out one of the maps and weighted down the curling ends with a book. “How about here?” She pointed to one side. For all that they were supposed to be maps, they didn’t look like any map Saryth had seen. Not that he had seen many. But maps were supposed to have cities on, and coastlines, and notes from people who used them. These maps had notes on, and dots which may have been cities, but they were covered in smooth wavy lines which couldn’t possibly be coastlines. He puzzled over the concentric shapes, not wanting to interrupt and ask for clarification.

“No, that’s closed now,” Pyetr was saying. Kite frowned.

“Oh. Mmm, Wraithworld?”

“Or Telforth.”

“I never liked that world.”

“Or... Segresten.” She prodded the map. “That could do, and it’s close to Wraithworld.” Saryth drank his tea, and held down the maps, which seemed to be the most useful way for him to contribute. Kite had started writing things down, presumably world names. “Kesoraht,” she murmured.

“Add Torvansten to the list,” Pyetr said, and unrolled another map.

“Right.”

After several more maps, Kite’s list was complete and she had circled several of the names.

“Thanks, Pyetr.”

“You’re welcome.” He rolled up the last map and picked up the books which had been acting as weights. “I hope one of them works.”

“I’d like to go tomorrow - as early as possible.”

“Very well.”

“Good night!” She hurried off, and Saryth looked after her with some concern. Something was wrong. He picked up Kite’s mug and put it on the side with his own.

“Pyetr?”

“Mmmm?” Pyetr closed the map cupboard and looked round, raising his eyebrows in query.

“What was it that Kite wouldn’t consider?”

“Think about it,” Pyetr said gently, coming over to the kitchen side of the room. “What is an obvious way to stop someone?” He poured the dregs of the tea into the plant on the windowsill, then held the teapot upside down and shook it to get the leaves out. Saryth watched, then flinched at the obvious realisation.

“Oh,” he said, feeling stupid.

“Killing is a crime,” Pyetr said, rinsing the teapot with water from the barrel. “But if it’s for the sake of a world, some might consider it justified.”

“But not Kite.”

“And what of Harien?” Pyetr’s question shattered his brief relief. He took a breath to speak, thought better of it, and looked away.

“So what should be done?” he asked instead.

“That’s Kite’s choice, and her burden to bear,” Pyetr said, his voice heavy with some unknown story. “She chose that when she accepted the quest.” He started for the stairs, leaving Saryth to hurry after him.

The lamp was still lit in the room he shared with Kite, but its wick was turned almost all the way down, leaving flickering shadows dancing over the walls. The curtains were closed, but the clouds were thick, so there would be no helpful moonlight. Saryth didn’t need to see to know Kite was weeping, almost silently, into her pillow.

The morning was bright and clear, a perfect day for setting out on a journey, and it failed utterly to cheer Kite. She had the feeling that every step was taking her closer to a terrible choice, and she’d known that since Saryth had first explained how Vorannen and Aeryn were tied into her quest. Aethelric’s situation had been an almost welcome distraction. She and Saryth said goodbye to Pyetr outside his house, early enough that no unfriendly gaze might light upon Saryth’s hair and bring trouble down on Pyetr. I brought trouble enough. Jig and Pyetr and Aeryn were there to wave them off, and Aethelric was watching from a window, his expression solemn and withdrawn. He has a lot to think about. But she didn’t have the emotional capacity to worry about him now.

“Well, take care,” Pyetr said, and she managed a smile.

“Thanks, Pyetr. We’ll see you soon, I hope.” She turned away, but as she did Jig started forward, hand raised.

“Saryth - don’t go.”

He hesitated, then turned back to face the girl. Kite stopped too, but didn’t turn. This was for him and Jig to sort out. She found she was clutching her staff so tightly her hand was threatening to cramp, and forced herself to relax.

“Jig,” he said. Kite saw Jig duck her head out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t want you to go,” she mumbled. “Can’t you stay?”

There was a pause, then Saryth shook his head, the white flash of his ponytail swishing back and forth at the edge of Kite’s vision.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and stepped forwards to pull Jig into a hug.

“Why?” she said, and her tears were audible. Saryth didn’t answer, but Pyetr hummed gently, then quoted lines Kite recognised.

“‘It is not because with her I find light’”, he said, “‘but because with her, I need none.’” They were lines from an old song, one she hadn’t understood the last time she’d heard it, some time during childhood. Aeryn was silent, as usual, and Kite wasn’t sure if Saryth and Jig had heard, caught up in their own farewell. The moment stretched, then Saryth released the girl and stepped back.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” and she managed a smile, even while crying. Kite started walking again, and for all her worries, the familiar sound of Saryth’s footsteps hurrying to catch her up lifted her heart.