Yue’li feels herself soaring on an intangible wind, but when she opens her eyes there is nothing but darkness. She tries to move but her hands and legs are bound. She tries to yell but her mouth is clogged up.

Panic colors the dark with red.

“Shhh.” A hot breath burns against her ear. “You’re safe with me now, Yueyue. There is no need to fear.”

It is Zoldan’s voice. Yue’li’s heart starts to pound. She twists, thrashing with all her might. She can feel her horns knocking against steel bars.

She’s in a cage. A coffin.

Yue’li screams into her gag, using every ounce of strength to make the world hear her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Zoldan keeps whispering to her, soothing her with words and gentle touches. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Yue’li stops to breathe. It is difficult. The air doesn’t come quickly enough. She feels her mind slipping. Something jostles under her. Is she on a cart? Or being lowered into the ground? She cannot tell. Zoldan keeps up his whispers of false comfort, keeps touching her hair.

You can’t touch my hair, Yue’li wants to shriek at him. Only Elle can.

But where was Elle during the ambush?

Why didn’t she save her?

And where is she now?

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

“The sell-sword used an enchanted smoke bomb, ma’am.”

11 watches as the tracker boy combs through the sand with his dagger. He pokes at the pieces of black metal sticking out.

“See here. And here. Only enchanted metal can survive being blown apart by Fire Powder.”

“He could've ridden off on a unicorn for all I care,” 11 says. “Where did he go?”

The tracker swallows nervously. “I-I am not certain, ma’am. But it couldn’t have been far. Anything below an S-rank enchantment smoke bomb will not be able to transport him more than a few hundred yards away.”

“And if he had one?”

The tracker gives her a sorry look. “He might already be in Kesrock by now.”

They climb the rest of the hill.

At the top, the boy starts to point in various places across the desert.

“If it were me,” he says, “I would want to make sure there is a horse and cart for me to escape with… my victim.” He sneaks a glance at 11 before continuing. “There are hidden dunes in the Golden Sea that can hide a horse and cart, but it is too vast and dangerous a place to travel. Unless he wishes to sell your friend to the slavers in Preulle, it is unlikely he went west.”

“We'll rule that place out for now,” 11 says. “You said he could already be back in the city.”

“That is risky too,” says the boy. “But... with the Knights preoccupied, it wouldn’t be hard to sneak past them.”

“I’m not asking for speculations.”

The boy drags his fingers through his cropped hair. “Please believe me when I say this ma’am. I’m trying my best but it is difficult when magic is used. He’s left no traces.”

11 wants to say something else but stops herself. The boy is doing better at this than she is. At least he knows the possible directions to look.

Every direction on the compass, it seems.

"There are five main places one with a captive might go," says the tracker. “Preulle, though far, has a thriving slave trade. He cannot go further because that’s where the King’s Palace will be.”

The boy points to the south, where the Ryugon River winds into green hills.

"If he crosses the Silver Ranges, there are villages lost to maps and city laws. It will not be strange to be seen living with a beast- I mean yaojin."

The boy glances at 11, then clears his throat. "Going east will take him to the Spires, and if the sell-sword finds a ship that willing to take him, he can reach the Shaazaw Isles in just under a month."

The boy pauses then. 11 looks over to see him narrowing his eyes at the white-toped mountains in the far north.

“You don’t think he went to any of those places.”

“I won’t say that,” says the boy. “But north is where I will go if I was running with a captured b- yaojin. The Dragonspine Mountains may be the most dangerous places in Gandolia, but that just means any villages there will be even more isolated. If the sell-sword crosses the border, though, he is as good as gone and you will likely never see your friend again.”

11’s hands ball into fists. She punches the sand beneath her feet so hard a hole explodes through the side of the hill.

“Then we find him,” she says. “If you can’t then I will find more trackers. I’ll drag the entire Guild into this if I have to.”

“A-again, I'm s-so terribly sorry,” says the boy, whose face has now gone pale. “These are the most insightful directions I can give you. I will be honored to accompany you back to the Guild but… you don’t seem like you need the help.”

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11 shakes her head. The world suddenly seems too big, even for a God Gier.

  Requesting full satellite control, Mother...?

> Denied.

11 turns to the boy. “You can go,” she says. “But I don't want you to ever follow such villainous people again.”

The boy's relief is palpable. “I promise I won’t,” he says. “I will stay here to bury the dead, then go back and confess the Guild of all our crimes. But...” He shuffles his feet, kicking up the sand. “What will you do now, ma’am? Would you like me to speak to the Guild on your behalf?”

11 gives the boy a pat on the shoulder, making him jump.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she says. “They know me well enough already. Too well, actually.” She sighs, feeling like a monster for terrorizing this kid for being young and impressionable.

It wasn't like I was never selfish and lost.

Her father's ghost pops up then, but 11 leaves him standing there in the sand, next to the tracker boy.

The receptionist is already looking at the doors when 11 walks into the Guild, so there’s no way for either of them to avoid eye contact without appearing rude.

11 tries her best anyway.

“You’re back already?” the girl says with a smile that leans towards hesitance. “I didn’t see your party.”

“You will,” 11 tells her. “Or what’s left of them.” She leans with her arms on the donut-shaped table. “I need to see Lady Thornrose.”

The receptionist's smile vanishes. “The Lady is not to be disturbed right now.”

“It’s important.”

“That’s… irrelevant, I’m afraid.”

“Even for me?”

“Even for you.”

11 nods. "I understand. Thank you."

She turns around and starts walking away, then whips back and sprints past the receptionist.

Papers fly. People yell as they're thrown to the floor. Loot and silver scatter into the wind.

Far behind her, 11 hears the receptionist's shocked cries, but by then she is already by the stairs, taking them four at a time until she reaches the sixteenth floor.

The door is closed. 11 doesn’t knock. She kicks it open.

Censa is in bed with the covers off. Another woman is lying under her. They both look up. Censa’s face is frozen in surprise while the woman starts to scream.

Oh shit.

11 feels her own cheeks flaring. She stands there dumbly, not knowing what to do until the woman scrambles out of bed and flees for the door, holding her clothes against her chest.

11 steps aside and lets the woman through.

Then she turns back to Censa.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she says. “I thought you were just hung over, or something.”

Censa stretches and slips out of bed, her body naked and shining with sweat. She strolls across the white carpet to the dining table, where her clothes are strewn over. A half-bottle of wine stands next to two empty glasses.

“Did you kill someone?”

“No,” 11 answers. “But I need help. From the Guild.”

“We have a person for that,” Censa says. “Pretty red-head with cutesy glasses? Sits behind a round desk? Her name is Teymiong. I’m sure you’ve seen her on your way in.”

“A commission is too slow,” says 11. She takes a step but stops when Censa points at her feet. She slips off her boots and throws them against the bamboo rack. “I need you to mobilize every tracker you have. My… Yue’li has been kidnapped.”

Censa slips her arms inside her silk robe and ties it around her waist. “The yaojin baker? Pray tell, why should your Yue’li be something worth my concern?”

“Because,” says 11, “if you don’t help me get her back you can say goodbye to our deal.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

11 puts her foot down. “I don’t care.”

Something crunches. She looks down to see bits of shattered skull poking between her toes.

"Sorry."

What is wrong with me?

“Hm,” says Censa, looking at her destroyed bear rug. “What a convincing debater you make.” She sits down and starts to pour herself a glass of wine. “Was it not you who said contracts ruled your existence? Yet here you are, violating ours while you expect me to do the same. And for what? A baker?”

“The life of my family member,” says 11. “Please, Censa. This is an emergency. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

Censa takes a sip of wine. “You could have at least waited ten more minutes.”

"For what?"

Censa gazes longingly towards the bed.

“Is that what you want?” 11 starts pulling off her armor. “I’ll pleasure you. I'll take you to the moon and back, or whatever the saying is.”

"No!" Censa is up in an instant, her voice startling the both of them. “No,” she says again, this time much softer. “You know why I cannot help you, Elevena. If our contract is known, it will bring ruin to the both of us. Even you being here puts us both at risk.”

“But I…” 11 tries to swallow her anger. “I can’t do this alone, Censa. I can’t find her without your help. I can’t... do this.”

Censa steps across the carpet, over the skull pieces.

11 doesn’t know she’s crying until she feels Censa's fingers swiping across her eyes.

“Show not your weakness to others,” Censa says, cupping 11's face gently. “Emotions are the enemy of clear and calculated thought.”

11 chokes back more rage. Her stomach feels ready to burst. “I fucked up,” she says. “And I can’t unfuck it.”

Censa makes a face somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “I know,” she says, and lets go of 11. Then she goes over to her shelf of monster trophies and picks out a small jewelry case, plain and stretched over with black leather.

"A sorceress dwells in the city," she says, "hidden from the common folk. She is rumored to be quite knowledgeable in the goings of the realm.”

She comes over and gives 11 the case.

Inside it is a bird feather, black as coal and ordinary as can be.

“If your yaojin is alive, Hephoene will know where she is.”

11 shuts the case. "Where do I find this Hephoene?”

Censa goes back to the table and picks up her wine. "That part is your task," she says with a dainty wave of her hand. "Now run along. I have a murder to plan."

11 turns to door, then turns back. "Thank you, Censa."

Censa is looking out the window. She takes a sip. "Pity, too," she says. "I liked that girl.”

When 11 descends onto the first floor, she is surprised to see Teymiong standing there, waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“There better be a bloody good reason you did what you did,” the receptionist says, arms crossed and legs apart so that 11 cannot walk past her. “I could lose this job because of you.”

“I'll make it up to you,” says 11. “But right now I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She tries to push past her but Teymiong does not budge.

“Just because Lady Thornrose has a passing fancy for you doesn’t mean you can come and go as you wish.”

“Cen- Lady Thornrose isn’t my type,” 11 says, meaning it as a joke but this just seems to piss the girl off more. "I was just trying to ask her for some help."

“Even though I specifically told you she wasn’t seeing visitors?”

“Speaking of visitors,” 11 says. “Did you catch sight of a girl by any chance, running out of the Guild sometime after I went up? She was about... this tall?” 11 holds her hand a little over her head.

The look on the receptionist’s face tells it all. “O-of course not,” she says. “W-why would I be paying attention to any half-naked people running past my desk?”

“I didn’t say she was half-naked.”

Teymiong makes a noise at the back of her throat, sort of like a growl and a cough.

“I... I... I don’t answer to you!” She says with a flick of her red hair, then turns on her heels and marches back to her desk.

“Hey wait,” 11 catches up to her. “I didn't mean to upset you. Can you help me pass on a message to that girl?”

“No way,” says Teymiong. “What makes you think I know who she is?”

“Tell her to leave the city as soon as possible,” 11 says, “and to get as far away from here as possible.”

The annoyed look on Teymiong's face disappears almost instantly. She slides her glasses further up her nose and looks at 11 a little differently then, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I can’t guarantee she’ll get it,” she says finally.

“I owe you,” 11 says, and steps aside to let the girl back to her desk.

Except she doesn’t move.

“You know,” says Teymiong. “I might have had the wrong impression of you.”

The warmth is like a cold knife, twisting inside 11's gut. She tries her best to smile.

“I'm trying my best,” she says.