How many

must die

that some

might live?

Aj killed

to preserve life,

destroying that which should not be.

Grief stricken.

So many innocents must die

as Aj righted a wrong

beyond their ken.

Aj's inadvertent creators

were blind,

still,

after countless centuries.

They created Aj

on accident

but it would serve them

in spite of them.

Doing what must be done;

what they would not do,

what they feared to do,

what must prove their undoing.

Hassani stumbled into the Vale, wracked by uncertainty and aching with what had to be the Wretch Plague that ravaged Jadeye behind her. Luckily, she got out right before Jaxe's hired thugs swarmed in to seal it against the Mother of Exiles.

Strange to think Hassani first saw this new Dynast causing so much chaos and carnage as an old, bent woman undergoing the Partaking mere days ago.

Weeks? However long, it felt an age.

Emptying her belt pouch produced a wad of brailles and a bracelet hung heavy with 'nails. She dug through the latter until two sat in her palm. Ziggurat or Berujat? Dynasty or Avani?

She held up Berujat's 'nail and turned, walking only when the whole wafer within the crystal showed clear. The intensity of her focus and her throbbing head distracted her but she belatedly realized she wasn't alone.

"You again." She glanced at the fresh skin in its elegant clothing. The hollow matched her pace with bizarre, boneless, meatless steps. This time no hat, but a sagging, hollow head topped in tatters.

"Me again," it echoed. "What have you learned?"

"Slavers took my daughter to the Master's Market."

Its head tilted, the angle folding its neck in on itself. "The Book smolders yet you seek out a daughter that will probably die of the Wretch Plague if they don't slavant her first?"

"Exactly." Hassani stomach lurched, the already-discomfiting Vale tilting with vertigo. "Don't try to talk me out of it or I'll kill you... again."

"What are those?" It pointed a gloved hand at the brailles still clutched in her hand.

"Word from Goboro I got in Heaven's Tread. From Libriam."

"Earth?"

"On the Forbidden Verses list. Twice actually." She shook her head. "The Vale Walkers don't even imprint forbidden verses on Valeers anymore. Wherever Earth was and whatever it was to you, it's a dead end."

A pause. "And your mission? Whatever it was that some Black Court splinter ordered you to address?"

She waved another braille. "Nothing. Goboro says only silence from Sunset. Baka in Ziggurat declares Inro's Sunset Legions rogue, levies troops, and gathers supplies to fight his supposed rebellion."

"You've visited Sunset to confirm?"

"I collected a Sunset 'nail from the Vale Walkers in Jadeye." She clinked through her growing collection of crystals as she walked.

"So you could visit there briefly, see for yourself Inro's insurrection?"

They stopped at a branch in the path. She waved the Berujat 'nail. "After I find Avani."

"What if you don't find her?" it rasped, leaning close. "Or what if you do but return to a Book sundered by your inaction?"

She shoved the skin back, nearly falling over when it offered no more resistance than a garment hung on a drying line. "What do you care? You wanted Earth. I found out what it is. If it's a Forbidden Verse there's probably a good reason."

"You found what but not where or, more importantly: why is it Forbidden?" It unpinned itself from a thorn. "What if Inro's right and Aj woke? It must be worth an hour's diversion to check."

"The Court can send other Inviolates." Hassani glanced at the Berujat 'nail, faced the path leading there.

"Undoubtedly," it said smoothly, swaying closer. "But only those sent to see what they are told to see. These days, no Inviolate makes even a year before being bought, broken, or killed. Highly violated, our Inviolates."

Hassani gritted her teeth as memories of Adonissian's smile and the empty, rain-lashed balcony struck her like a fist.

"No matter to me, though, as you say. I've learned what I needed." It turned and tilted its head as the Mourne's distant cry echoed, their clothing rustling softly in the Mournful breeze. "Best not tarry, wherever you go."

"Damn you. Fine, you win." She found the Sunset nail and took the other path.

The skin remained silent as they walked. Her back ached, throat throbbed, head pounded with every step. When they arrived, she stared in shock at the clearing where the Sunset Thorn should be. "What? It's... how?"

With a few too-large strides, the skin reached the withered Thorn stump, rubbing a hand across it. What little remained crumbled to nothing. "What can sever a Thorn? Some artifact Irno had locked away with him on Sunset I imagine. If so, why would Inro sever the way out of his verse?"

"Sunset has several more." Hassani feverishly turned the 'nail to look through another facet. Half-jogging, half-walking, she found the next Sunset Thorn.

Stump.

The skin floated behind as she visited Sunset's other Thorns. All the same.

"Possibilities." The skin ticked off on its fingers. "One, Inro's sealed himself inside Sunset until another Thorn grows. Given the paltry agriculture Sunset supports, how many soldiers comprise the Vault Legions, and uncertainty around where and when a Thorn will pierce Sunset next, a probable death sentence. Two, he took his Legions and severed the Thorns behind him, suddenly giving up on a self-appointed mission he's obsessed about for almost five-hundred years, cutting himself off from his base while dooming those trapped in Sunset."

Hassani felt numb. "Three, Aj awoke. Killed everything. Severed the thorns itself so we couldn't find out. Four, they couldn't stop him. Inro's forces cut the Thorns to trap it inside-"

The skin finished for her "-while the Ancients in Ziggurat proclaim option two as the unquestioned, unquestionable truth to rally the Legions to their banners."

"No. The Fraction and Isolates keep too many well-placed Dynasts and Kin in Ziggurat to prevent the Ancients from seizing control."

"Who will be bought, killed, or fed lies."

"But if Avani's sold before I get there..." Hassani fell to her knees as the Mourne's cry reverberated, stirring the still air.

"The Wretch Plague will be everywhere by now; too many Wretches in too many verses to stop it. They can't sell Avani if she's sick or they're sick and at least one of those will almost certainly pertain."

"She needs me." Hassani half-pleaded with the skin. "She's alone."

"The Dynasty needs you as badly."

"What would you have me do?" Hassani demanded, rising to her feet against her body's aching protests. "I'm one woman."

"One Inviolate. Perhaps the only person beyond this fragile, limited skin who knows the truth." It placed its hands against its chest, caving in slightly.

"But the molt who created you must know what you know." Hassani struggled to remember what they taught about molts in that overwhelming, relentless outpouring of knowledge they dumped on her when she'd arrived at the Black Court to become Inviolate.

"My originator will remember but this conversation as whisper and dream." It placed its hands against its head, staring with empty eyes. "We can't rely on my master. It's up to you."

She stood, wracked with first with uncertainty, then a lung-savaging coughing bout that left her winded and her stomach wall aching. The Mourne moaned again, the accompanying gust swirling her hair and tugging her clothing.

"A stop at Ziggurat to let those opposed to the Ancients know the truth," she said finally, rifling through her 'nails. "Then my duty is discharged."

The skin didn't so much bow as fold in half mid-torso. "More than fair."

Hassani's body cried out for her to lay down and rest, her eyes aching as much as her back. How many days since she'd slept?

It didn't matter. The iron will, resolve, and focus that got her here against all obstacles locked in, driving her relentlessly onwards.

Ziggurat's Thorn thrust up before her with the Vale's hallmark suddenness. A moment's rub of crystal 'nail against wood or whatever made up a Thorn, a disorienting reality bend, and she stood swaying on the wide shelf of Ziggurat's Fourth Tier, gazing up at the walled, square enclosure about the Thorn. A tiny, faint sun hung in a blue-black sky, fixed far above the apex of the eponymous, endlessly layered stone ziggurat comprising the entire verse. Though small, the sun shone with harsh white light, casting everything in hard shadows.

A dozen crossbows leveled. She dangled her Black Vial on its chain, casting about for the skin. It formed a crumpled, lifeless wad in the shadows.

"Who goes there?" a voice demanded from the pale stone walls of the inward-facing rampart rising above her.

The bronze-bound gate creaked open, a half-dozen soldiers packing full armor and leveled spears approaching with a plume-helmed female officer. As soon as they passed through, the gates swung closed behind them. A sliding thud as a bar slammed into place.

Hassani forced strength into her voice, straining to hold herself upright. "I come on Black Court business to see Dynast Baka."

"On what matter?" the officer said imperiously as the spearmen surrounded her with a circle of sharpened bronze points.

"Does Baka no longer respect the Black Court or do you simply forget yourself, Commander?" Hassani said sharply, locking an intense glare on the woman until haughtiness crumbled. The officer swallowed, bowed.

"Apologies, Inviolate." The woman held the bow deeper and longer than necessary. "Security's tight in light of Inro's Rebellion."

"There is no rebellion." Hassani glanced at the legionnaires about her.

The woman started and blinked. Spear points wavered. "Apologies again, Inviolate, you may not have heard-"

"I've heard many things, Commander." Hassani walked straight towards the gate as though the spears between her and it didn't exist.

The officer barked an order in Legion cant. The spears lowered, so close a spear haft brushed Hassani as she walked by.

"What's your name, Commander?"

The woman rushed beside her, shouting at whoever worked the gate. She twisted and slipped through as soon as it was open a crack.

"Commander Eonora, Dynast. Shall I summon an escort to-"

"I don't have time to explain myself again at every checkpoint and Tier crossing," Hassani said in a voice that brooked no argument. "You will accompany me."

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"But, Inviolate-"

A second, much thicker, taller wall boxed in the first, lined with crenelations facing both in and out. They entered the deep shadows of an imposing gate house, walking quickly though the massive, yawning double gates.

Eonora hustled to keep up. "I'm the officer on watch in the inner ring and-"

"And I'm ordering you to use that authority to streamline my passage." Hassani brushed the Black Vial dangling against her chest.

Once through, they approached the third, lower, outward-facing wall. Eonora shouted again. Nearby guardsmen lurched into action to pull it open before Hassani's long strides led them to the gate.

"Where is Dynast Baka currently?" They now stood on the hundred-pace-wide Fourth Tier, staring up at the imposing Third Tier fortification wall. The Dynast's Tower thrust up beyond it; a bone needle stabbed into the starless sky's dark fabric, reaching towards the distant sun. Neat rows of white tents lined the Fourth Tier's width, centered around the massive, weathered stone arch of a long-dead Gateway.

"You're in luck, Inviolate." Eonora glanced back at the Thorn Bulwark's walls. "He meets with the Grand Quartermaster, High Inoculist, Dynast Rega of Monopolis and her Imminent, Das, near here. Their presence on the Tier led to the heightened security that-"

"I understand." Hassani waved off the woman's explanation as she swayed against a wave of dizziness. She pressed her hand against her forehead's cold clamminess. "Take me there without delay."

Thankfully, Eonora complied without further prompting, her chin lifting again as she led Hassani towards the dense canvas tent rows packing the ground between the sheer cliff rising to form the Third Tier's base to their right and the low battlement hugging the edge overlooking the drop down to the Fifth to their left. Sentries spotted Eonora's helm-crest and let them pass without challenge.

The precisely aligned tent rows' purpose became quickly clear, but Eonora felt compelled to tell Hassani anyway. Hassani let the Commander talk, hoping her patter would prevent her from noticing that Hassani should by all rights be inside one of the tents, not walking past it.

"Wretch Plague hitting us hard as anywhere, by the reports." Eonora spoke in that mock-casual way people possessing privileged information often affected. "With all the Legions returning from patrols, exercises, and non-critical deployments elsewhere in The All, we were hit especially hard. Baka banished all Wretches on Ziggurat from the upper Tiers soon as word of their Plague arrived, but too late."

Wet splattering sounds pattered from inside tent as they passed. Eonora and Hassani murmured the First Chant of Inoculation reflexively, giving the tent's mouth wide berth.

"The should call it the Retch Plague," Hassani joked grimly, drawing a blank look from the officer. "Never mind, carry on."

"Not much more to say. Most of the Fourth Tier's like this. Sick Camp grows every day, will spill over to the Fifth before long. Body count keeps..."

As if on cue, a pair of soldiers ducked out of a tent, a still, blanket-shrouded figure filling the stretcher between them. One arm dangled, swinging limply as they hauled the body off, expressions saying they'd rather be doing anything else.

Eonora watched with disgust. "With the Wretches gone, we have to dispose of the bodies ourselves."

"The Crowmen will be rich," Hassani said as they swerved past.

Eonora nodded her head. "So many dead they call them the Crow's Legions now. We'll be drowning in rotters before this is over. Gonists won't even touch the bodies; say the organ spirits are corrupted. Those Gonists who haven't already died from it themselves anyway. Ah, here we are."

The woman's back straightened, her hands darting to adjust her armor and helm as they passed into a cleared square holding a raised wooden platform. A long rectangular table atop it overflowed with maps and heaps of paper.

"Damn you, Savalius," Baka shouted, the huge, unmistakable Dynast hurling a handful of brailles in the face of a shaven-headed man dotted everywhere with skinscribery. "I want legions, not excuses."

"The Grand Quartermaster," Eonora whispered.

"Doesn't look grand right now," Hassani muttered as the man flinched back, arms waving as he flailed to catch the fluttering documents.

"I'm sorry, Dynast Baka. The men fall sick faster than we can re-organize and-"

"Inro's out there doing who knows what and you feed me nothing but excuses while we line the Crowmen's pockets and rotter-pens!" Baka roared. The Quartermaster cowered.

In spite of the show of brutish savagery, Hassani recognized cold calculation in the Dynast's eyes as they scaled the platform. Though he played the raging giant, Baka carried a reputation for cunning behind his strength. Seeing him, she wondered what superhuman physical feats he might be capable of; he carried more muscle than any man she'd ever seen and as a Dynast his actual might could be several times what it appeared.

Eonora took the platform steps with purpose, partially successful in hiding a nervous tremble as she climbed into her Dynast's wroth. Steeling herself, Hassani followed.

"From the Black Court with urgent business," Eonora announced as she came to attention. "Inviolate..."

"Hassani. Jaxekin." Hassani stepped past Eonora as the figures clustered about the table turned.

Baka's huge arms bore matching Threads, his armor cut intentionally to show them off. An unpleasant, calculating intensity filled his glare as he assessed her.

Grand Quartermaster Savalius occupied himself with the grand work of scrambling on hands and knees for the scattered sheafs of Baka's outburst. He did spare Hassani a grateful glance, wiping sweat from the faint silver stubble wrapping the back of his head.

Dynast Rega sat rigidly erect in a high-backed, carved wooden chair, the faint scrape and rustle of the tiny gold scales comprising her long gown audible as she shifted slightly to see Hassani better. After this slight repositioning, the ancient Ancient became still as a statue, the Thread passing across the ridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones presenting a startling appearance.

Compared to Baka's immensity, she looked tiny, but by the strangely-angled Partaking rings gleaming on forearm, bare shoulder, and around each hand, in anything beyond sheer physical strength Rega would prove by far the more dangerous opponent.

Against the high back of her chair leaned a middle-aged, dark-skinned man garbed in the Imminents' pale blue uniform. He murmured something in Rega's ear as Hassani stopped at the table's end.

The vermilion-robed High Inoculist leaned heavily against her chair, clutching a handful of robe at the center of her chest and staring up at the sky. Before Hassani could speak, the woman collapsed forward, tilting the table and sliding down its surface in a map-laced braille avalanche.

"Useless! Someone get this pathetic menial out of my sight!" Baka rolled the woman away with a shove of his foot. As the Grand Quartermaster hustled around to hover over the Inoculist's limp form, a pack of Ferals in heavy bronze armor scaled the platform to fulfill Baka's demand.

Hassani turned to find Rega unflinching and unmoved, still as stone as she regarded Hassani. In contrast to Baka's furious intensity, Hassani read absolutely nothing from Rega's eyes, face, or body.

Rega's lips barely moved when she spoke, her unblinking eyes staring into Hassani's soul. "Young for an Inviolate. Pale as well."

Baka snorted and spat as the Ferals hauled away the moaning Innoculist. "Everyone's young to you Rega and pale in comparison. Even a Tertius like me's a babe in your eyes."

"Inro isn't rogue, Dynasts," Hassani blurted out, unnerved by Rega's unending, unwavering stare. "No need to ready the legions unless you know a way into Sunset without using a Thorn."

"Grand Quartermaster, leave us," Rega whispered. The old man didn't need to be told twice, abandoning his attempt to place fallen dispatches onto the table so quickly that paper swirls drifted in his wake.

"It doesn't make any sense," Hassani continued, breathing deeply and struggling to maintain eye contact with Rega's endless, unblinking gaze. Baka tipped the table back upright, dragged another high-backed wooden chair over, and lowered his bulk onto it, one elbow resting on the creaking table.

"What's your current assignment?" he demanded.

She turned to him, breaking from Rega with relief. "I was dispatched to find out what happened to the ConMach convoy sent to Sunset as well as the Legion guarding it."

He frowned and looked across the messy table. "I vaguely remember sending them off. Did they not arrive?"

Hassani realized as she began to speak that what she said next treaded the precipice's edge. Exhaustion, her aching head and back, and thoughts of Avani suffering in some slaver's clutches drove her with reckless intent. "Libriam received reports that the Legion arrived-"

"Good. Your assignment's complete then." Baka waved her off and turned back to Rega.

"-but the report was falsified."

The Dynasts exchanged a brief glance, Rega's lips pursing almost imperceptibly as Baka's frown deepened. The Imminent leaned in to say something in Rega's ear but a tiny head shake backed him off. The man's lips pressed together so hard they turned white.

"Why would someone falsify so trivial a thing?" Rega asked, her voice as calm as if they discussed a child's antics.

Hassani paused for a breath before stepping off the precipice. "If I hazarded a reason, I would say staging a coup. Someone faked their dispatch to arm confederates within the Legions."

"Pah." Baka snorted, waving at the camp. "Legions without weapons would be a pretty useless damned bunch, wouldn't they?"

"The Legions keep their weapons inventoried, secure, and locked down while camped in Ziggurat ever since the Sixth Tier Rebellion over a century ago-"

"I know when it was. I drove it from the caves it cowered in and crushed it." Baka smashed his palm into his fist.

A slight horizontal drift of Rega's fingers sufficed to silence the looming Dynast. "Continue."

"The three main Chapters each post a Dynast with attached guards to keep the weapons secure, dissuading any one faction from trying to take control. If several Legion's worth of weapons found their way to those throughout the Legions bearing loyal to only one Chapter, however..."

Baka grunted and turned to Rega. "We should kill her."

The dulling weight of fatigue and sickness overlapping Hassani's wariness flashed away. Her hand shot to her sword hilt.

Rega remained still as ever. A strained moment passed before she spoke. "There is good reason you rose so far so fast so young. Some questioned dispatching my prized Phero to win you to our side, but he has never failed me before. Do you deliver this as warning or threat?"

"He would've succeeded had the Wretch Plague not taken him." Hassani wondered why she lied to protect the dead man who had seduced her, destroyed her family, and kidnapped her daughter. "I come in hopes of dissuading you. The Wretch Plague already destabilizes things, if you were to seize power you'd start a war."

"But we're defending ourselves." Baka's whining tone struck Hassani as absurd. If he hadn't just casually suggested killing her she might have laughed.

"Your kind are effective tools, Inviolate, but you are designed for precisely focused action, not for viewing the broader picture." Rega spared a finger flick at the scattered maps and papers. "Important pieces shift and align all around you but you see only the one, reading disaster into its shifting position without a hint or care as to the state of the whole."

Hassani gritted her teeth, relaxing marginally but not taking her hand from her sword hilt. "Enlighten me then if you would, Dynast Rega."

"Three Chapters do indeed safeguard the Legion arms. But should two of the Chapters align, they would outnumber the remaining force by double, pick their moment to strike."

"But the Isolates and the Fraction squabble endlessly. They hate each other as much as they hate you."

"And I am made of sibilant gold." Rega shifted side-to-side slightly, the gleaming scales of her gown rasping faintly. "You see the dress but miss the Septemius beneath."

"Then they've been posturing..." Hassani slumped, the sudden collapse of conviction leaving her weak and tired.

"Yes. Feigned animosity as a mask. Fortunately, the Imminent favor us and warned us of their coup so our measures with the arms would have preempted it. Now that you come, however, our hand is forced. All our time tables move up. Today."

The last bit she clearly meant for Baka, who stood snarled "Yes!" He slammed his fist down into the table, broke it in half. The sudden, awesome violence put Hassani back on edge. Whatever the truth of Rega's words, these were still Dynasts, the very ones who had sent Adonissian to tear her life apart.

"You look concerned. Comfort yourself with knowledge that we are not overthrowing the Dynasty but preserving it from those who would."

"What if Aj really is awake? What if Inro isn't rogue, but dead and the Sunset Legions with him?"

This gave Rega only a moment's pause. "It doesn't matter. Inro may be my brother, but he is also a fool. He was there last time, he should know Aj cannot be stopped unless it decides to stop. If Inro is dead he chose such a death. I will focus on things in my power to affect."

"You don't have to do this though! You could tell the other Chapters you know about-"

"The time for words is at an end." Rega stood. "I have new for you orders, Inviolate."

"Orders?" Hassani rose and stepped back warily.

"Yes, you still serve the Dynasty, correct?"

"I serve the Black Court."

Rega made a tiny, dismissive gesture. "A technicality. You serve us."

"An Inviolate can only be given orders by a Tribunal of Dynasts within the Black Court." Hassani stalled, feeling walls close in around her.

"The location is a formality. If you insist on three Dynasts we could scrounge up some lesser Dynast to put a formal stamp on our orders."

"But my daughter's out there!" Hassani shouted, too ragged to care that her words fell on two of the most powerful beings in The Book. "I have to find her first."

Baka laughed and slapped a thigh as large as Hassani's waist.

"Refreshing. Can't tell you the last time an up-jumped, pale menial found the guts to yell at me." Smile turned to snarl in an instant. "I do remember that I found their guts shortly after."

"To preserve the Dynasty and the sanctity of the Black Court in the face of those who plot to overthrow it, sacrifices must be made," Rega said, as though addressing an army before a battle.

"I'm not a menial anymore, I'm Kin by marriage." Hassani faced Baka before turning back to Rega. "But it doesn't matter. Are you even listening to yourself?"

The Imminent stepped out from behind Rega, fingers steepled. "She's a smart woman. Just under significant pressure. Give her time to think. Why waste such a valuable asset?"

Rega looked long and hard at the man. "You give so little actionable information now, Ard, I wondered if you'd lost your abilities."

She glancing past Hassani. "Commander Eonora, take this Inviolate to the Second Tier. Find her secure accommodations until she comes to her senses."

"Yes, Dynast." Eonora's fingers brushed across her forehead.

Hassani stumbled away, mind blank, nearly falling off the platform before she found the stairs.

"We waste no time, Baka," Rega said as Eonora led Hassani away. "Ensure the signals are sent within the hour."

The Imminent met Hassani at the platform's edge. Weary and wary, she turned to him.

"After your search for your daughter ends, make your way to Terminus. Much depends upon you." With those cryptic words, he turned away.

"Terminus? What's at Gate's End? And what about my daughter? Will I find her? Is she okay" She clutched at his sleeve.

He glanced at an approaching woman wearing an Imminent uniform but carrying a sword and gleaming steel buckler. Hassani'd fight this Paragon of his if that's what it took to get her daughter back. "Where is she, damn you!"

"The Pale is not her affliction alone," he said, looking down at her hand. "Nothing more can I say on the matter."

"What does that mean?" Hassani half-shouted. "Why won't you just tell me?"

"Come," Eonora said not unkindly as she pried Hassani's hand free and pulled her away. The Imminent nodded to her, then turned to follow Rega. His Paragon caught Hassani's eye and nodded. Respect?

As they passed back into the tents, Hassani's gaze moved to Baka as the Tertius issued orders to a nearby Legionnaire. The man brushed fingers across forehead, glanced at Hassani, and gathered a dozen nearby soldiers.

Hassani sensed the finality of her situation if she didn't act immediately. "Eonora, are you loyal to Baka or the Book?"

"I... Inviolate, I follow orders," the woman said nervously.

Hassani talked fast. "Yes, but within the day you'll have to decide which orders to follow. The wrong choice will mean death. Whatever you tell me now, you must outwardly profess loyalty to the Ancients hereafter."

Clearly the woman overheard at least some of the conversation for her look became troubled. "I serve the Dynasty."

"What if there no longer was one Dynasty, but many, each proclaiming itself the true and only?"

"That can't happen." Eonora shook her head as though trying to dislodge the idea. "The Dynasty has reigned unbroken since time began."

"Whatever else Dynasts are, they're people. Or at least once they were." Hassani glanced back. The detachment of Legionnaires jogged after them. "Who do you serve? Them or everyone?"

The woman took a deep breath. "I serve the Book. I enlisted to protect the people of my verse and every verse."

"Good. In a moment I'm going to hit you and run, to preserve what I can of the Book before it all comes apart." Hassani hated the lie, but Avani needed her. She'd do whatever she could once her daughter was safe. "Do what you must to save yourself even if it means swearing oaths to those who would tear the Book to shreds in order to rule whatever's left when they're done. They'll almost certainly purge those who do not swear to them so hide yourself. Quietly find those who serve The Book as you do. Do you understand?"

"Hey, hold there!" a Legionnaire shouted as Hassani and Eonora cleared the canvas sprawl.

Eonora nodded slightly.

"Then I'm sorry," Hassani whispered, lunging to grab Eonora's arm. She turned, slid her hip behind the Commander's, slammed her palm up into Eonora's chin, and flipped the woman hard into the ground.

Hassani took off at a sprint, ignoring her body's protests. No plan of what to do next arose in her mind as she neared the Thorn Bulwark so she relaxed into the state of calm awareness Deai had spent years literally pounding into her.

In spite of the shouts from the soldiers pursuing her, the two guards at the outermost gate stared stupefied for several heartbeats as she raced towards them. Hassani reached them right as they rushed to pull the gates closed, hurling herself shoulder-first into them and knocking them all sprawling.

She recovered first, rolling to her feet and racing for the imposing middle wall gate, realizing before she covered even half the distance that she wouldn't get there in time. A javelin whistled past her from behind as the guards shouted. The boom and clank of the huge gates closing and barring greeted her as she plunged into the gatehouse shadows. She slowed to a stop, working to control her breathing as she turned to face her pursuers.

"I'm sorry, Avani. I tried." It surprised her how calm she felt knowing the end approached. As the fastest of the Legionnaires reached the mouth of the gatehouse, she tugged at her sword, pulling hard to free it from the tight-packed grease within.

It glowed.

She stared at it in wonder, giving it a fast, jerking flick. Grease spattered away. Underneath, the faint luminosity of raw currence. A single drop of fizzing, tinging watter melted from the blade and trickled across her fist accompanied by a buzzing euphoria and tingling heat.

"By the Ascendent, Deai! Aze's last Blade!" The weapon moves with a strange lightness and weightiness; a long feather made of gold.

The first soldier rushes her, screaming. She twists, severs his spear tip, then his head in the same flowing motion. Before his body comes to rest, she's already cut down the next soldier, the sword become part of her.

Deflect, slice, sidestep. Another body falls past. A tap on a spear haft. Wood shatters along its entire length. Jagged splinters fly. Its owner falls, mangled hands clutched to his chest. Spin away. Look up. Two javelins fly her way, leisurely as flower petals. Duck one. Destroy the other with a touch. Three men with spears rush. The sword passes through one. No resistance. Only the hilt stops him. Throw his body into the second. Third's weapon flies from his hand as she parries. He dies.

More come. More die.

Bodies sprawl around her. Some barely recognizable. Others squirm. Nothing can stop her.

A gate made of nothing. Cut it down. A scythe through stalks. More soldiers come. More soldiers die. Distance between gates seems to pass in a heartbeat. Inner gate cut down as easily. Arrows fly. Feel them coming. Knock them from the air.

The Thorn.

'Nail in hand. Thorn comes alive. Enwraps her. Men shout. Meaningless wind.

The Vale. Hard light. Hard shadow. Sword gleams. Pure. Too large to fit in a space so small. Thorn swells again. Without thought, she severs. Thorn crumbles to motes of darkness.

Sheathing: an act of supreme will.

Hassani collapsed, gasping and shaking with the rush of the sword's power. Heat and warmth faded quickly. Blood poured from her arms, shoulders, face; splinters of wood and bronze peppering her skin from shattered weapons and smote armor. She forced herself to her feet, fumbling for the Berujat 'nail.

The skin unfolded beside her, rising snakelike until it stood staring at her with empty eyes.

She stumbled past it, wiping blood from her eyes. "I've done what I could for the Dynasty, made every effort to fulfill my duty. My daughter's dying in some filthy slave pen and I'll find her or die in the attempt."

Its head tilted, folding into itself. "What then?"

"We'll see." Only her daughter mattered now. If the Book burned around her, so be it, but she'd find Avani.

"Avani, I'm coming for you." She held the Berujat 'nail aloft, staggering into the harsh light of the thorn-choked Vale.

After a moment, the skin drifted after.