Smokes and Bleeds were the last of the eight pairs of Spires that formed the city – or the first, depending on one’s perspective. The refugee camp curved in an oval around the strip of land that formed the city, and there was a Reclamation Committee office at each cardinal direction, so the distinction was purely philosophical. Both were on the outer edge of the city for the same reason that Wastes was: they were generally unpleasant to be around.

Smokes was named for the massive streams of smoke erupting from its top at all times, siphoned from the forges on this side of the city. Its white surface had become stained with an unpleasant mottling of yellow and brown over the decades, and its surface yielded a film of unidentifiable substance. Most of the major bloodtech development occurred in Smokes, though the few Owlblooded smiths I’d chatted up were tight-lipped on what was manufactured behind its spearwood walls. The public could purchase the latest bloodtech at a premium price on the lower levels of the Spire, which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were still people with more money than sense flitting about, even in a famine.

On the other hand, it was Bleeds I truly struggled with. Within its curved circumference, most processing of grain, tubers, vegetables, and meat occurred. These were either gathered by harvesters or grown using the slowly expanding farmland surrounding Spires, left over after the hunters and harvesters finished their business. A dangerous job, farming: despite the efforts of patrolling soldiers, monsters could still wander out of the woods and ruin fields or slaughter the hapless farmhands wandering about. The surviving harvest was shipped back to the city and either cooled in specialised rooms or sent to Bleeds. Within the Spire, what wasn’t distributed as-is was dried or smoked, with hides undergoing the tanning process – hence the unpleasant scent. But I could tolerate a bad smell.

Like the name suggested, Bleeds bled. From the top down, streams of oozing red substance fell, to be gathered in channels at the bottom where the offal was gathered and sent back up. Whenever I walked past, I avoided looking at it.

Despite being at the opposite end of the city, Smokes and Bleeds required only twenty to forty minutes of pushing through crowds to get to. The area was familiar to most of us; the lower market between the two Spires sold the vast majority of products related to harvesting. That meant those visiting were here for vegetation, heartwood, spearwood, ores, edible flora and, most importantly, meat. It was where I sold our monster parts at discount rates.

“…So, they’re just past Bleeds?” I asked.

Months of regular visits to the market had lent me the opportunity to gain a passing acquaintance with most of the people who visited regularly. Kit and I’d spent the past half-hour asking after the caravan we were supposedly meeting nearby.

They were all giving similar answers. “Thas right, Vinny,” replied a haggard woman wrapped in rags.

She sold small trinkets carved from monster bones, which Owlbloods often used as a base to work bloodtech through. I’d once spent several hours talking to her about jewellery.

“Mostly normal folk, bu’ a few look t’be tough customers,” the granny continued. “Richly e-quipped. Merchant, or sumthin’. Vinny you sure thas who you workin’ for?”

“I think so. Did you see where they went?”

“Jus’ pas’ Bleeds.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Ima,” I said, leaning on my halberd as I slowly squatting in front of her. “This might be goodbye.”

Her mouth split into a smile full of blackened nubs. “Gettin’ out? Aw, well good fer you, Vinny. You take care of yerself, uh? An’ mebbe get that girl ‘fore she splits that poor fella in half.”

I turned to find Kit caressing the hilt of her sword, eying up a beefy harvester.

“Kit!” I bellowed. “We’re done here.”

She whirled. “Finally!” the swordswoman exclaimed, eyes rolling intensely. “Gods, who asks for directions six different times?”

“What do you think we’re here for?” I hissed. “This isn’t a game, Kit. We’re checking, double-checking, and triple-checking – that’s what we agreed on.”

“I didn’t think you’d be this bloody slow!”

I groaned. “Maybe it would help if you didn’t stop to visually molest every well-built person we come across!”

She leaned backwards, her lips flapping soundlessly. “That’s…”

“It’s halfway to a crime,” I smirked. “I’m just glad you managed to keep your hands off them.”

“Ugh.” Kit leaned over and spat on the dirt. “Let’s go.”

My eyebrows vanished underneath my bandana at her uncharacteristic acquiescence. In the end, I led the two of us towards our destination, raising my arm and making a few pointed gestures to Davian and Whip, who lurked on the platforms above us.

We had split into three distinct groups, each with differing routes and roles. Kit and I were a known quantity to our prospective employers, and were both undoubtedly the group’s most capable close-range combatants. Those two traits made us the best suited to approaching the caravan and attempt to uncover any malevolent intentions. The fact that we weren’t Strains meant that any negotiation would go smoother as well.

Davian and Whip would occupy whatever elevated position they could find nearby, looking out over us with a spyglass from my stash. Whip would examine the caravan’s movements and notify us if anyone was making untoward moves, while Davian would defend her and help Kit and I escape if necessary. They could also conceivably blend into a crowd, provided the old man hid his face and the girl pretended her limp was temporary. If the caravan had placed any lookouts nearby, the two of them could be trusted to notice.

Ronnie, Gast, and Kit’s family were all loitering several Spires back in a loaded cart. Ronnie had tried to convince us to let them come, but the giant was far too noticeable, and was needed to help the Missus pull the overburdened cart. Gast simply couldn’t move fast enough to retreat effectively. If anything happened, Whip would let her know using a runeworked trinket and we’d all reconvene in a different spot.

As we rounded the side of Bleeds, I checked my halberd for any flaws in its monster bone working, quickly tightened the knots on my sling and ensured the pouch on the back side of my belt was full of stones. None of us had found armour large enough to fit me before we left – though Davian promised he’d be able to cobble something together from the next monster we killed – so I was clad in some rugged clothes I’d bartered off a large harvester. My sword remained strapped to my belt, its sheath wrapped in several layers of coloured cloth from my stash. I’d made a conscious effort to leave nearly everything else behind.

Everyone had insisted we bring only ‘the essentials’, categorically refusing to let any members of my hoard take their place. All of the objects I’d lovingly gathered over the years? Left to rot in Wastes, with Bhan – locked behind Siik knew how many layers of security – the only person in the city who could make use of them. Begrudgingly, I understood their point. But Kit got to bring the lute. Why couldn’t I bring my jewellery?

I scoffed, looking at the woman in question. Kit’s fur armour had been cleaned of most of the blood, though stains remained. She’d sheepishly refused Gast’s offers to thoroughly cleanse it of filth, which I judged a symptom of poor taste. Her helmet protected most of her head.

It took a moment for my eyes to catch the group we were supposed to meet. They’d cleared a section of the refugee camp to make room for four large wagons, three being built from sturdy heartwood while one was formed from worked spearwood. Each of the three heartwood wagons were equipped with canvas roofs and a pair of harnessed oxen. The single spearwood wagon had my eyebrows raising – only a single bullock was hitched to it and it resembled a portable hut more than anything else – but as our angle changed and our last charge was revealed even Kit had to scoff. An actual carriage sat behind the carts, and though it seemed to be made from cheap timber the decision to choose comfort over storage was baffling.

While I wanted more than anything to call it a tacky waste of money, the spearwood wagon was legitimately impressive. Flexible and durable? The cost must’ve been monumental, but much like a well-crafted pair of boots, a good form of transport was always worth the price.

I nudged Kit and gestured towards the four guards stood around the clearing, clubs and swords on their belt with large crossbows in their hands. Beneath their leather overcoats glinted steel armour, worn yet impeccably polished. My companion hissed quietly, and I nodded. Crossbows were bad news. Gast had made us a few minor wards that could supposedly foul a projectile’s flight, but I knew from experience that those weren’t foolproof. Especially considering their material. If Gast were with us, we’d have a better chance – but not a good one.

The more worrisome part? None of the guard’s gear was for killing monsters.

I swore quietly and unslung my shield from my back – made from chitin and heartwood – and strapped it to my left arm. It was small compared to my size – closer to a buckler than anything else – but it was large enough to catch bolts if necessary, so long as my reflexes were up to the task. The Strains had purchased it without my consent. They’d apparently been right to do so. Kit slid behind my frame, twisting her body sideways.

“Whaddaya reckon?” she asked.

I stared at the scene. “It’s broad daylight. They’re probably not going to shoot us.”

“’Probably’ isn’t good odds.”

“I know.” An itch started in the back of my head that I couldn’t scratch without muddying my stance. “If we can get between the carts we should be better off…”

“Tell ya what,” Kit stated from behind me. “We’ll get someone to come over, an’ we’ll walk behind ‘em the whole way. Use ‘em as cover. If they’re angling for a shot we back out.”

“When we get there, you’ll need to talk to the woman alone. Can you handle that?”

“I’ll be up-front with her. If she wants us, she’ll be fine talkin’ in th’ carriage.”

I tightened my grip of the haft of my halberd. “Alright. You understand how to operate Gast’s runestones?”

“Vin, we went through this a million times.”

“Tell me.”

She released a subdued sigh. “Scratch out a little channel between the two rune arrays.”

“It’s got my blood on it?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t accidentally messed the talc up? It’s easy to do.”

“Yes, Vin. You’re worse off, goin’ around chattin’ to people.”

“A few holes look better on me than on you.” I paused, then drew in a large breath. “Alright. Here we go.” I cupped my hands over my mouth and bellowed an ‘OI!’ to those waiting in the clearing.

Two of the guards rotated to look at us, while the other two kept their gaze fixed in other directions. After a moment, a familiar face appeared from around the back of the spearwood wagon and began hurrying towards us.

“Kit,” I warned.

“What?”

“Stay calm,” I stated. “It’s Aron.”

A short silence followed my announcement. “Gods, are we protectin’ th’ bastard?”

Only the halberd in my hand prevented me from slapping my own forehead. “You might be right.”

“Well,” Kit muttered quietly, “least we don’t have t’feel bad about killin’ him.”

I sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Knock yerself out.”

Aron was a member of the Reclamation Committee, and the man called upon whenever we complained about our poor wages. He was responsible for our extortionate rates. I’d never gotten the feeling he bore us or the Strains ill will. We were just… soft targets.

A clean smile graced his bearded face. “Vin!” he yelled. “You came! I’m so glad you ended up taking our offer!”

We approached the man, ensuring the angle partially blocked us from one of the crossbowmen. “Aron,” I greeted with a nod. “Your offer, is it? This is your set-up?”

“Ah, Tully has done most of the work orchestrating this whole endeavour,” he said, shaking his bald head humbly. “I’ve simply had the good fortune to take advantage of her hard work.”

“I see.” Taking a long sniff, I looked over him. No weapons. “The pay is quite nice.”

I left unsaid how uncharacteristic such a generous payment was.

“Each of us-“ he made a sweeping gesture towards the caravan, “-have pooled our resources to hire your team and a handful of mercenaries.” He raised his hand to his mouth, as if telling a secret. “I was actually the one to recommend your group!” Aron whispered conspiratorially.

“Huh,” I grunted. “You must think very highly of us.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve always done fine work – and with no fatalities in the past year!”

“Hmm.” My fingers twitched around the halberd.

He took my low growl as an invitation to continue. “It’s truly incredible how competent you all are! Never failing a commission – and most often quite handily on schedule!”

I sniffed. “Why is that… ‘truly incredible’?” I retorted in a mockery of his jovial tones.

“Um. Well.” Aron’s eyes flicked at every angle. “You do so well in spite of your limited equipment!”

“Why do we have poor equipment, Aron?” My voice was completely level. Kit elbowed me in the kidney, and I understood her point. As the man struggled towards a response, I waved my hand and plastered a genial expression across my face. “Never mind that. Thank you so much for this opportunity! Oh, it’s truly wonder-ful!”

Aron looked at me in confusion. Kit drove her elbow into me again. I cleared my throat and continued in my usual manner. “Sorry. I haven’t gotten much sleep recently. My training as a Face takes over sometimes. You have a very dramatic way of speaking – well-suited for the stage.”

The sparse hairs on his brow shot up. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

I smiled and nodded. “It’s true, it’s true. I couldn’t help but imitate it.” I jerked my head towards the caravan. “Do you think you could introduce us to the rest of the caravan?”

He shot me a quizzical look. “’Us’?”

I leaned aside slightly, revealing Kit. She flashed the man some teeth.

Aron leaned back. “She’s been behind you the whole time?”

“She’s shy.”

“Ah.” He pursed his lips. “Okay.”

I concealed her again. “Could you take us to… Tully, first? Was that the organiser’s name?” My uncertainty was dishonest.

The man flashed a clean smile. “That’s right. Come on then, you two.”

We walked across the barren radius of the clearing. Aron made small talk, remarking on how pleased Tully was to have a Face on board, apparently oblivious to how tense Kit and I had become. But none of the crossbows targeted us, and we reached the group without incident. The three of us squeezed between two large wagons – one silent and the other filled with incoherent squabbling – to arrive in front of the carriage.

Aron rapped on it three times, each impact accompanied by deliberate silences of varying lengths. I quietly noted the pattern. After a moment, a harsh voice spoke from behind the door. “What is it, Aron?”

I frowned.

Unbothered by the uncanny exchange, the man replied. “Two of the hunters are here, Tully.”

She cracked open the door, revealing a round face marred by straight white scars and a pair of beady eyes. Immediately, I turned, leaned down, and whispered to Kit. “Addendum: ask about how she identified Aron without seeing him and what her blood is.”

The swordswoman’s face stilled. “You fer real?” she hissed.

“Yeah. Don’t open with that.”

“I’m not-“ She stopped, then swore. “Fine.”

I turned back. During our exchange, the woman in the carriage had politely dismissed Aron. A small smile played across her face. “Tully, right? I’m Vin, and this-“ I stepped aside, “-is Kit.”

“Yes,” said the scarred woman, nodding slowly. “I am aware.”

I swallowed. “I see. Are you alright if Kit negotiates with you inside the carriage?”

She squinted, then after a moment snorted mightily. “As a demonstration of trust, then. In exchange, I hope you’ll accept one of our guards as a guide.”

Drumming my fingers against the length of my halberd, I eventually nodded.

Placing two pairs of fingers in her mouth, she blew a sequence of incredibly sharp notes. The whistles struck my ears like a scalpel. After a moment of loitering awkwardly, a short woman jogged over to us, crossbow pointed towards the ground. Though her hair was entirely brown, faint wrinkles had begun to form on her face – a sign of her approaching middle-age. “You called?” she asked amiably.

Tully gestured towards me. “Rita, this is Vin; both a Face and one of our monster hunters. While his companion talks to me in the carriage, could you introduce him to the members of the caravan?”

Rita nodded. “Will Maddie be staying with you two?”

“Hm. If it’s alright with Vin, I’d like her to go with you.”

“Alright, then.” The diminutive guard took a carved whistle from around her neck and blew into it several times. In the corner of my eye, two of the three remaining guards begin to face inwards, towards us.

Rita noticed me looking at them. “Maddie’s the boss’s daughter. She gets special treatment.”

“You’re still wary of us,” I stated flatly.

“No offense big guy, but we don’t know you. And the boss wouldn’ta hired you if you weren’t dangerous.”

I shrugged. “Well, know that I’m not going to make off with a random girl.”

She laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

As we were speaking, a cloaked figure hustled out of the carriage and stretched mightily. They were even smaller than Rita. Tully beckoned from inside the carriage, and Kit slapped me on the back and stepped up, ducking inside the small entrance. It slammed shut a moment later.

I fingered a small stone in my chest pocket. If it crumbled, its cousins – given to Kit – had been crushed. “Maddie, is it?”

The voice that returned was far less squeaky that I expected. “And you’re one of the monster hunters, are you? Do you do the-” She punched the air, nearly tripping in the process. “- yourself?”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“You know,” the girl said. “With that big spear.”

Rita spoke up. “S’a halberd.” I noticed the guard’s accent was less clean in Tully’s absence.

“The big halberd,” she corrected herself.

My head remained askew. “Yeah. I do.”

“What’s it like?”

“Dirty.” I wondered whether she was always so enthusiastic, or if she’d been shut it the carriage too long.

“Ah, okay.” Some of her initial enthusiasm seemed to be slowly wilting, as if drained by my lacklustre responses.

I rubbed the back of my head. “Sorry,” I sighed, “it’s just never seemed very glamorous to me.” Clicking my tongue, I continued. “Though that’s probably the way of most jobs, after a while.”

She looked up, allowing me to see the orange hair and pale skin concealed behind her hood. “It must be interesting, though.”

I thought about that for a moment. “I suppose so.” Extending a hand, I introduced myself. “I’m Vin. One of the monster hunters, as you guessed.”

She stared at my calloused paw for a second, then slammed her much smaller palm into my own. “My name’s Maddie. I’m Tully’s daughter.” I let her pump my arm for a moment. “It’s reassuring to have real, professional monster hunters here – no offense, Rita.”

The short guard smiled gently. “None taken, ma’am. We train fer more human threats.”

I turned to the guard, my hand still trapped in Maddie’s grip. “I did notice that, yes. Does Tully anticipate a lot of, uh, ‘human threats’?”

She shrugged. “Thar’s a lot of bandits around. Th’ Jackal was th’ worst of it t’be sure, but thar’s still far more kickin’ around, eh?”

Maddie finally released my hand as I continued speaking. “So, we’re to handle the monsters, and you’re to handle the… people?”

“Well, we do expect you to help when needed. S’more like, uh, you’re in charge of th’ monsters, we’re in charge o’ the ‘umans.”

“And you’re… Tully’s retinue?”

Rita chuckled lightly. “Y’could say that. We’re mercenaries, like yerself.”

I sighed. Somewhere in the conversation, the tension in my shoulders had lessened. “It’s good to be working with you. I’ll introduce the rest of the gang when they get here – in the meantime, could you two show me around?”

Both answered affirmatively, and began moving towards the closest cart. I walked-

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

-up onto the carriage, gripping the upper edge of the doorway and hauling myself in. Its innards were claustrophobic, with the naturally cramped confines of the room being crowded with clothes and books haphazardly strewn across every surface. The cloaked woman – Tully, Aron had called her – slammed the door shut, allowing the bloodtech lamps embedded in the walls to light the carriage. She swiped her hand across the chaotic mess, clearing a space for me. I could barely make out Vin’s low grumble as he exchanged words with the two outside.

“Take a seat, Kit.”

I supressed a sneer, and adjusted my sword’s scabbard to sit down, doffing my helmet and placing it beside me. The fur armour draped across my body was growing uncomfortably warm – the carriage must’ve been heated.

“Did you come to accept my offer?”

Crossing my legs, I leaned forward, bringing my face far too close to hers. “We’re still considerin’. D’you think you could answer some question fer us?”

She leaned backwards. I would’ve taken that for a victory, were her expression not completely level. “Be my guest.”

I chewed my lip. “What’s th’ caravan’s destination?”

“We’re aiming to reach Fort Vane.”

I grunted. “That’s on the outside o’ th’ Heartlands, right? Borderin’ House Baylar territory?”

“That’s correct.”

I hummed quietly, rolling that piece of information around my mouth. Absentmindedly, I drew a cigarillo from my pouch.

“Apologies, I’ll have to ask you refrain from smoking in here.”

As I held the tube a few inches from my face, I squinted at her. She didn’t budge. Ignoring the temptation to throw her off, I slid it back. Mother would’ve used it to unbalance her, but this was only half an interrogation. Pushing it would be a Lizardbrained move.

“What’s th’ route?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“We’re following the Spur most of the way.”

That was the Heartlands major river system, named for the way it spread from a central spring. Most travellers followed it, in one way or another. The old gang had never ventured far from it.

“Which branch?” I grunted.

Her body remained almost motionless. “Ien River.”

I’d never seen it myself. “S’got no road beside it.” That was the excuse Mother’d always given for steering clear.

Tully shook her head slowly, closing her eyes to give me a brief respite from her gaze. “There is a small one. It’s less suitable for carts, however.”

“Why take it, then? There’re more direct routes.”

“It’s likely there will be less bandits along its length.”

I snorted. “More monsters, though.”

“Hence your group.”

“An’ you’ll split off from the Ien towards the end?”

“That’s correct.”

Mentally, I tried to recall the geography. It wasn’t accurate. No Heartlander made maps beyond a few general notes, because they’d be useless by the time the Aching rolled around. Though I only had vague recollections of the last one given how young I’d been at the time. Even so, one location stood out.

I sat up straight. “Ox’s balls lady, that’s near one of th’ Fox’s forests.”

The Fox stalked four different forests throughout the continent. From what I’d heard, Kani could appear in any without travel time. Only it knew whether that was due to its own power or some secret of the forests. Neither were good for humans. A wise traveller steered clear.

“We’ll take a wide berth around it.”

I chuckled humourlessly. “We’d better. None o’ us are stickin’ ‘round if you decide t’go through it.”

“We won’t.”

“Good, good,” I muttered. “How long d’you think it’ll take?”

“Two or three months.”

I worked an imaginary piece of grit out from my teeth with my fingernail, watching Tully closely. “Where you restockin’?”

Her gaze remained level. “We’re not.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“There are several settlements near our path, but I imagine most are abandoned by this point. Between here and Fort Vane, there’s little food to be found.”

“An’ you’ve got food for months? For us as well?”

“That’s right.”

I leaned forward, resisting the urge to speak through my teeth. “I’ll have to ask you to show us yer stocks.”

Her gaze tore into me, precise as the edge of a honed knife. “Of course.”

I settled back into my padded seat. It was way too comfy. Like a second arse.

“Alright. So, the plan’s to follow th’ river, cut ‘round the Fox’s forest, and split up at Fort Vane. What’s next fer you?”

“What do you mean?”

I hummed and raised a single eyebrow. “’Employment if service is decent,’ remember? Whaddaya mean by that?”

She paused briefly before continuing. “I worked for House Heltia. My tenure expired, so we’re moving to a place with better trade.”

“Hmm. Fort Vane’s that much better off?”

Tully nodded in her slow, measured manner. “From what I’ve heard: yes, very much so.”

“And,” I scoffed, “what, Heltia just let you go?”

“Fort Vane is still within House Heltia’s territory.”

I snorted. By name, maybe, but it was too distant to be controlled. Mother said the family was mostly independent, and too rich by far to mess with. I allowed Tully’s excuse, though. “S’more like a transfer, then.”

“That is correct.”

The blue light cast her scarred face in a ghastly light, as if she’d stepped straight from a nightmare. Her scars were unnerving – they reminded me of a weaker time.

I straightened, a harsh sneer vanquishing the weakness from my face. “Well good fer you, lady. Now what in the blood does that have to do with employment?”

Tully frowned. Though smaller in frame, the scarred woman still managed to seem as if she was looking down at me. “I can put in a good word for you all.”

“A good word’s enough to get two killers and a buncha Strains a job?” I snorted. “Really?”

Her beady eyes were motionless, like they were trying to strip the flesh from my bones. “Depending on how outstanding your service is over the next few months, yes.”

I glared at her. “What kinda role did’ya have?”

“I was a… former aide to a General.”

“Former?”

“General Bina. She died.”

My eyes widened. “Fox’s greasy vulva, Bina was a Godslayer, wasn’t she?”

For the first time, Tully glared. “General Bina, and yes, she was.”

“Did you- “

“No,” she interrupted. “I remained here. But my skills were recognised.”

I let out a low whistle. “That’s somethin’ alright. Vane’ll be glad to have you.” I paused, then continued. “Whaddaya do now?”

“I’ve been relegated to a more bureaucratic function.” Her manner remained unchanged.

“Haven’t lost the bearing. You move like a soldier.”

“So does your friend, Vin.”

I squinted. “Vin? He’s a warrior. ‘Course he’d move like one.”

Tully shook her head slowly. “No. He was trained to hold a line, at some point.”

I paused. In an attempt to conceal how badly that’d rattled me, I stretched languidly. The truth of the matter was, even after hunting alongside the man for several months I knew little about him. He’d only told me he was a Face a few days ago, and that only because the situation demanded it. None of the Strains could tell me so much as his age.

Though, to be fair, I played my cards close as well. Everyone was allowed a few secrets.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Pretty godsdamned rude to talk ‘bout a man that’s not around, though.”

She tilted her head, acceding the point.

While I caressed the hilt of my sword, I moved on to the next question. “What’s with the payment?”

“The payment?” she inquired, feigning ignorance.

“Two hundred silver chits. Never mind where you got it from – why spend it on us?”

The woman’s greying hair caught in the azure light as she slowly scratched at one of her scars. “Do you really want us to pay you less?”

“We’re not comin’ for less,” I lied, “but you an’ I both know that kind of money’s strange. ‘Specially for a buncha Strains.”

“I am aware. But despite your group’s…” Her lips thinned. “…unusual origins, I’ve been assured of your competence.”

My face tightened. “How?” I enunciated precisely.

“Aron has shared your group’s stamp records. Even before your addition to the team, they consistently cleared areas of wide swathes of Godkin – usually both larger and more heavily populated than other hunting teams. And you and your companion’s showing in the bar was quite impressive.” After I failed to respond, she continued. “I won’t risk my daughter’s life on lesser service, and I won’t risk your loyalty faltering in the face of the Heartland’s ire.”

“How’re you affordin’ it, though? Even splittin' it between you all, that’s…” I furrowed my brow, raising my fingers to begin figuring the numbers.

“Forty silvers per group, yes. I’ve barely bought anything for the past two decades, so such a price is affordable.”

I splayed my hands. “Why open with that, though?” I said, my voice betraying legitimate bafflement. “Why not negotiate, lower the- “

“This way,” she stated, “you will not refuse.”

At that moment, I almost turned her down on principle. But she had me – and anyone with an empty chit-string and half a brain – pegged.

Tully filled the silence before I could respond. “The Face was a bonus.”

“Vin?”

“Yes, Face Vin. There’s always a chance to encounter fell spirits along the way.”

“You believe in ghouls?” I blurted out.

She narrowed her tiny eyes. “Yes. You’d do well to take their threat seriously.”

I’d lived in the Heartlands all my life without ever taking their threat seriously. “Sure.” I coughed, clearing my throat, and continued in a more practiced tone. “Before we continue, d’you have any questions regarding us or our group?”

“Will your Strains slow our progress down?”

My knuckles ached as I squeezed my blade’s hilt. “No.”

“Then there is nothing else.”

I closed my eyes and let out a breath.

The choice of who’d be our negotiator had been between Vin and me. In the end, everyone decided the oaf was better suited to looking over the caravan from the outside, while I’d be decent at digging answers out of our employer. Neither the Strains nor Jana were wary enough – the whole plan’d been put together like it was all some low-stakes game of Web. As if the pieces weren’t real. Vin was too tightly-wound about the whole thing, but I got his point. It all stunk.

I drew air into my lungs. Time for the harder questions.

“You mentioned gettin'- “

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

-after Rita and Maddie as they rounded the first wagon. The cloaked girl slowed as the figures within became visible behind the two glum oxen hitched to the wagon, through the frontward opening in the wagon’s canvas bonnet. She took shelter in the shadow of my large figure. The three men squatting within were invariably large and sullen, their words quiet as they leaned forward and conferred with one another. Even my hearing only hinted at a handful of words – ‘out’, ‘patience’, and ‘hurry’.

Rita cleared her throat. “Gents. This’s Vin, one ‘a th’ monster hunters.”

The trio turned to me, revealing a variety of colourations. Despite that, two of them gave us almost identical looks – wide-eyed ambivalence – while the third simply nodded disdainfully, his chin sticking out like a rude gesture. I nodded to them, and the three mirrored the gesture sullenly. After a moment of eyeballing each, Rita pulled me away.

As we exited earshot, I leaned downwards. “That’s it? I wanted to have a chat with them.”

“Not much for talkin’, them. Don’t take it personally.”

I harrumphed dramatically. “I’ll damn well take it personally.”

Maddie chuckled at my side.

“Oh?” I remarked, smiling weakly. “My suffering’s funny, is it?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

I angled my head towards Rita. “When you introduce me to the next ones, maybe they’ll beat me over the skull with a stick. That’d send the boss’s daughter into hysterics, I bet.”

Rita cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Whaddaya think, Maddie? Should I get ‘im clubbed?”

“Rita…” the cloaked girl sighed, her concealed expression belying the amusement in her voice. “You know Vin, if I said yes she might actually do it.”

“Don’t do it,” I said instantly.

“Aw, but you seemed so eager.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie said, light and mocking.

I groaned. “Look, if you get Rita to hit me over the head then I’ll hit you- “

“You won’t,” interrupted the short guard. “Or you’ll lose th’ job, an’ mos’ likely yer head.”

Throwing up my hands, I began walking away. “Oh, such wanton cruelty from my employers,” I monologued, channelling the Dolphin’s mannerisms, “how can a poor, helpless hunter like myself refuse their requests? Ah, this world only exists for their benefit!”

From behind me, Rita muttered to Maddie, “’e’s a Face alright.”

The cloaked girl hummed her assent. With my back turned away from them, I felt my expression suddenly grow flatter. They seemed nice. Authentic, even. It might be better if I left the job to Kit and the Strains, and stayed away. But even in the throes of a suddenly sombre mood, I knew that was a foolish idea. Who would protect them?

I wiped the scowl from my face as we approached the next two wagons. They were placed close together, apparently in order to allow their occupants the proximity to argue with one another.

“…An’ you thank we should carry that much o’ yer Owlblooded witchery?” said a tremulous voice at truly prodigious volume. “Raven’s feathery balls! ‘F you weren’t mah daughter’s-husband’s-mother I’da smack you upside the head!”

“Pa…” someone hissed.

“Ha! How very bloody dare you, sir!” quavered another elderly voice. “Your mind is as addled as your skin! There’s nothing wrong with runic arrays – and you were more than happy to take the chits gained from them, despite your pitiable dowry!”

“Mother…” came a short whisper.

“Silver’s good an’ honest, bu’ Siik only knows what in th’ blood yer so-called ‘rune-ic a-rays’ do. Probably gonna give us all some sorta sickness, jus’ bein’ around. That purple light ain’t safe ah tell ya.”

“This is my son’s craft! Of course they’re safe!”

“Yeah, sure, so long as he’s givin’ ‘em to other people an’ not to us!”

As the argument continued, I turned to the two accompanying me and raised an eyebrow. Maddie pulled down the top of her hood, yet Rita smirked unabashedly at the bickering.

“They’re fun, eh?” the short guard remarked.

The statement provoked a single snort from me. “Sure. Right up until we’ve travelled with them for several weeks.”

Both women blanched.

I scratched the back of my head. “Do they stop?”

Rita frowned, and nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Oh no,” murmured the cloaked girl.

A long breath escaped me. “You get to sit in a bloody carriage. I’ll have to walk next to them.”

“Me too,” Rita said, shaking her head wryly. “Ah, s’not that bad. Bit of entertainment, eh?”

Shrugging, I began approaching the carts. After a moment of awkward hovering, my eyes alighted on an opening behind one, which I promptly stood behind. Within the wagons’ beds, ten figures sat split between two carts, each lit by the azure light of an ever-burning lamp. Five were adults attempting to ignore the argument; two were bawling infants; one was a child with glazed eyes; and the remaining two were comprised of an old man and an old woman quarrelling across the divide between their two wagons. Every one of them were dressed in new clothes – soft and undamaged by wear – yet those in the elderly lady’s cart possessed finer dyes and more lustrous materials.

I cleared my throat. The child turned to me and gaped, while the others continued to studiously examine the canvas ceiling. Once again, I cleared my throat – loudly. A few of the adults turned to look at me and immediately startled.

“Mother!” a bespectacled man hissed.

The elderly lady turned to the man, a scowl on her face. “Odrin, don’t interrupt me. You should- “ She suddenly paused as her eyes fixed on my figure.

“What?” said the old man, his clouded pupils flicking wildly. “What’s happenin’?”

A woman sitting beside the bespectacled man – Odrin, he’d been called – spoke. “There’s a man just outside the cart.”

“Miriel, what in th’ blood’s he doin’ thar?” he asked, then squinted mightily. “He a lil peeper? Gods, that’s embarassin’.”

“Snapper, shut yer mouth you blind old lump of dirt,” the old woman exclaimed.

“Mah left buttcheek,” Snapper retorted. “An’ that’s Ol’ Snapper ta you, Atifi.”

“Old’s right.”

The greybeard turned to Miriel. “She’s fambly now – that mean I can take a hide outta her?”

Atifi scoffed. “You couldn’t take a hide outta a dead rat.”

I cleared my throat again.

“Both of you, shut up for a moment,” demanded Odrin. Old Snapper opened his mouth to retort, only to be silence by Miriel smacking him on his bald pate. As the retort rung, the bespectacled man raised his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Apologies, young man. I’m Odrin, and this’s my wife Miriel. The angry lady’s my mother, Atifi. The angry man’s my father-in-law, Snapper.”

“Ol’ Snapper,” the elderly man interjected. “We had a Young Snapper bu’ he died some years back, poor lil thang.”

Odrin sighed, then introduced the remaining members of the family: a young couple who were the parents of the two infants, and a quiet man who was apparently the only parent of the child. I silently catalogued their names.

“…and we’re the Smiths, on account of my occupation,” finished Odrin.

“Bah!” Old Snapper exclaimed, his bald head shaking wildly. “Ahm a Grower, as is th’ rest o’ mah get.”

“Oh, and what a prestigious lineage it is,” said Atifi slyly as she looked at me. “Dirt and mud and blood sacrifices all the way down.”

“You and yer Owlblooded son’re hardly Heartlanders, livin’ up in yer big tree ‘n that.”

As the grey-haired woman began to mock her nemesis for his family’s fortunes, my brows crinkled.

“Well, I’m Vin – a member of the monster-hunting team guarding your caravan.”

Miriel smiled. “Reassurin’, that.”

I nodded. “Do you mind if I ask a personal question? About you and your husband?”

She leaned back on her seat in the wagon, a suspicious frown splitting her features. After a pause, Odrin answered for her.

“Shoot,” he said.

I pursed my lips. “I’m a Blooded myself,” I slowly began, “and I never really… entertained the idea of… marriage, on account of the, uh…” Instead of relying on my faltering eloquence, I pointed at the two infants, who had been rocked into sleep. The explanation was incomplete, but the real reason wasn’t something I could say out loud.

“Ah didn’t want kids,” said Miriel. “Like ‘em – don’t wanna raise ‘em.”

“But what about…”

A short, barking laugh cut my question off. “How to avoid bein’ in a fambly way?” cackled Old Snapper. “Geld the bastard – like he’s a horny dog! Ha!”

Immediately, Miriel started repeatedly smacking her father, while the bespectacled Owlblood shrugged. “My blood’s weak – like yours – but none of th’ Houses like risks.”

“Right.” I scratched my head. “I understand. I should tell you that in addition to myself and Kit – the woman I came with – there’re four Strains in the group.”

Though the other’s were too busy arguing to notice my statement, Odrin’s eyes widened behind his glasses. A silence hung between the two of us. I drummed my fingers along the length of my halberd. Eventually, the quiet was dispelled by him slowly releasing a breath.

“It’s good you told us early,” he sighed, rubbing his balding head. “As long as they’re competent, no one’ll say a word.”

I nodded. “Just… know that before anything else, they’re good people.”

“We’ll see.” The man turned away, face falling as he attempted to quell yet another argument between his mother and Old Snapper.

I ran my tongue through my mouth, gathering saliva as a bulwark against sudden dryness. “Wait a moment,” I began. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? For security’s sake, if nothing else.”

Odrin’s face, darkened by the shadow of the wagon’s canopy, fell into irritation. “Another time might be best.”

“It would- “

“I’m sorry, Vin, but there’s a lot to do still and I’m in no mood for talking.” He rubbed his head. “Maybe after I’ve put the old folks to bed.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

I left the Smiths and Growers to their arguing and returned to Rita and Maddie, who had wisely chosen to stand back from the entire affair, instead loitering in the clearing alongside the three other guards. Once again, Rita looked at me with unmitigated amusement while her boss’s daughter tried much harder to conceal her own.

We stared at one another in silence for a few short moments. Eventually, I settled on a succinct statement.

“This is not what I expected.”

Rita inclined her head, while Maddie looked up at me, her orange curls escaping from her hood. “What did you expect?”

I stuck a thumb underneath my cloth bandana while intermittently squeezing my halberd’s shaft. “It’s very…”

“Routine?” the short guard offered.

“Yes. Routine. Everyone here is uprooting their life; why’re you all so…” I looked up, clicking my tongue. “Casual?” I enunciated carefully.

“You’re no different,” stated Maddie.

“I certainly feel different.”

“I understand big man,” said Rita, “I do. But what makes you think our time here’s somethin’ to hold onto? Erryone knows Spires’s goin’ down. Not a lotta hope left, here.”

I threw a hand towards the wilderness. “What makes you think it’s different, out there?”

“Better than doin’ nothin’, eh?”

“That’s a load of dung,” I scoffed. “There’s plenty of things you can ruin by ‘doing’.”

“Rather live with th’ mess than live with the regrets,” said the middle-aged guard, as if reciting from verse.

“Oh, save me the platitudes,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You can have the mess and the regrets – how about that?”

The hooded girl shuffled nervously between us. Her movement caused her heavy cloak to sway, and beneath it something flashed silver.

My gaze fixed on the phantom of the flash and I seized on the opportunity to halt my darkening mood. “Do you have a necklace?” I asked, the words spilling from my mouth.

Both the guard and the girl turned to me quickly, their eyes wide.

“Looks nice,” I continued, somewhat taken aback.

“Did ya see it?” demanded Rita.

“Can I? It’s silver, right? Must’ve been expensive.”

The guard’s jaw clenched, provoking a cocked eyebrow from myself. Maddie answered in her stead. “Tully got it for me at one of the lower markets.”

“Damn. Can’t believe I missed it. She must’ve snapped it up quickly.”

Her rosy skin lit with a weak smile. “She’s always had her ways. Come on. Let’s go introduce you to the last ones.”

I waved my free hand. “I already know Aron.”

“Do ya know ‘is wife an’ kid?” Rita responded.

My only response was a shake of the head. Somehow, I hadn’t realised that such a man could have either.

“Well, then,” she concluded. “Try not ta scare th’ two with yer stompin’, eh?”

Rita didn’t wait for an affirmation before striding away, lightly pushing Maddie’s back to ensure the girl walked with her. The spearwood wagon was barely a handful of paces away, allowing my large strides to catch up with their smaller ones almost instantly.

Unlike the other three wagons we’d visited, Aron’s was both large and well-furnished, with a grand ribbed bonnet of some sort of onyx monster leather complete with an entrance-flap, which hung open to reveal padded seats for those seated inside. The finery was slightly undercut by a mound of luggage eclipsing the light that should’ve come from the wagon’s open backside, leaving the two figures inside – a woman and a girl – silhouetted in darkness. For whatever reason, my supernatural senses struggled to pick up their hearing. An excessively large bullock was hitched to the front of the cart, staring passively into the middle distance. Unlike the other wagons, this one had no partner. Disproportionate imprints beneath its hooves made me believe it was a weak Lizardblood; its docility, large frame and excessive weight hinted at the fact. It must’ve costed almost as much as the wagon.

Aron waited out the front of the cart, staring at the ground. As soon as he noticed us, his face rearranged itself into a wide smile. “Ah, Vin and Rita!” he turned to Maddie, beaming. “And you must be our little stowaway! Tully’s daughter, correct?”

“That’s right,” muttered Maddie.

“Vin’s here ta meet yer kin,” Rita cut in, moving in front of the fidgeting girl. “Make sure they don’t scare at th’ big man followin’ ‘em around, eh?”

“Of course, of course,” the man said, stroking his bearded chin. “Willow! Buttercup!”

With excessive care, the two figures in the wagon slowly extracted themselves from the deluge of baggage. Both were helped past the ox’s bulk by Aron’s proffered hand, which lowered them with surprising tenderness. The woman – presumably Aron’s wife – straightened, holding both hands in front of her demurely, her flaxen hair forming a striking contrast with her caramel skin. It took me a moment to realise I was staring. She was strikingly beautiful, and that fact that I recognised her beauty stirred a deep sense of discomfort in my gut.

The woman’s brows scrunched, and my gaze snapped to the child mimicking her mother’s posture. If my guess was right the girl was about twelve, and her unruly mop of hair and light skin was somehow reminiscent of both parents, without resembling one too closely.

I looked back to Aron, finding him shooting me a knowing look, coupled with a gleeful smile. “This is Daisy, my daughter” he said, ruffling the kid’s already messy hair, “though we all just call her Buttercup. And this is Willow.” He took the woman’s face in his hands and kissed her deeply.

The kiss extended. Unwittingly, I turned away to look at my two escorts, who’d donned similarly confused expressions. Neither of them seemed to understand why Aron chose here and now for such a display of intimately

I rubbed my temples silently. After a moment, I sighed and squatted to address the daughter. “My name’s Vin. I’m pleased to meet you, Daisy.”

She stared at me blankly for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.

“Myself and a few others are employed to stop monsters from getting too close,” I continued, smiling gently. “You’ll see a few of my partners soon enough. They’re a bit strange looking, but they’re all good people. Let myself or one of them know if you see anything strange – or even just want to talk, okay?”

“Okay, sir,” Daisy replied quietly.

“Or,” Aron’s voice interrupted, “you could tell me or your mother.”

I straightened, giving the man a dead-eyed stare. “Or that.”

“Anyway Vin, I’m glad you and your team accepted our job offer.” Aron announced suddenly. He smiled mightily. “I know no other hunters who deserved it more.”

“I see,” I grunted. Turning to the two beside him, I continued. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you two, but I’ll have to talk with my escorts.” Before anyone could respond, I walked away.

Silently, I ground my jaw. There were five groups in the clearing – or more accurately four, given that the Smiths and the Growers seemed reluctantly bound – and I’d failed to extract information from a single one of them. It was stupid to bet on Kit’s persuasive powers –the swordswoman could find a way of provoking a wet towel into combat – yet despite that I’d stomped away from Aron.

I rubbed my eyes. That assessment was unfair to both myself and to Kit. She’d find something, and I knew that those within the caravan were, for the most part, tolerant of my presence. None seemed too interested in us.

None ‘seemed’ interested?

“Oxdung,” I swore, throwing my halberd to the ground in disgust. Scowling ferociously, I stomped its hilt once, sighed, rubbed my eyes, and leaned down to pick it up.

“Not a fan, eh?” said Rita, eyeing me sideways. She and Maddie had belatedly followed me back into the clearing.

“Yeah,” I spat. “I’m not.” My fingers trembled around the hilt of my halberd, while my mind’s eye regaled me with images of the weapon cleaving the short guard in two. I breathed in, then out. “Do you mind if I ask you two something?”

Rita glanced at the cloaked girl, who nodded her head. “Sure.”

“What’s going on with them?” I gestured towards the three other mercenaries forming a triangle around us, as opposed to the whole caravan.

“What do you mean?” Maddie asked.

I snorted. “Oh, come off it. Don’t play dumb.” I turned to the older woman beside me. Her eyes were inscrutable. “You were hired to protect the caravan, yes? Why are they stalking us, specifically? Is there something you want to tell me?”

Rita stared at me. The cloaked girl fiddled with the tresses spilling from her hood.

“Either they’re just protecting this kid- “ I gestured at the girl, “-or they’re about to put a bolt through my head.”

Rita shook her head. “Rotating positions is standard procedure- “

“Don’t lie to me. What kind of half-arsed squad are you, to do so around a constantly moving point?”

Once again, the guard shook her head. No explanation followed.

“Give me something.”

“Tully’s very protective of me,” Maddie squeaked.

I whirled on the short girl. “Oh yeah? Let me get this straight – Tully is the one who is exclusively giving the orders, and those orders aren’t to protect the caravan?”

The two of them stared at me, having retreated several paces. Rita held a protective arm in front of her charge.

“Do you understand how suspicious this whole thing is? Oh, and look at that- “ I flicked a thumb towards the other guards, all of whom had turned inwards to face us.

“Yer causin’ a commotion, Vin,” said Rita blandly.

“Fine. Fine. But if you want our team to stay on this job, you’ll need to explain some things to me.” Both of my escorts stared. For the first time I caught sight of Maddie’s eyes – wide and green like emeralds. Her freckled skin was flushed, as if she were a rabbit faced with a tiger. The expression was like a bucket of cold water over my head.

I thumbed beneath my bandana, turning my gaze towards the guards. “I didn’t mean to be aggressive. This is…” I jerked a hand in front of me. “Strange. Ease my mind. Answer the questions. Please.”

It took a moment for the reply to come. “Alright,” Maddie agreed. My brows furrowed. “We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Rita frowned, but acquiesced. “I kin see why you’d be spooked, aye. Look: th’ money’s erryone’s, but Tully’s th’ one givin’ orders. We signed th’ deal with her.”

I sighed, looking out at my surroundings. Kept separate by the stern faces of the patrolling guards, the refugee camp stretched almost endlessly; a ubiquitous mass of carts, tents, and sunken-eyed adults and children attempting to track down their next meal. Whatever abject poverty they’d escaped from had pursued them here, to send its greasy tendrils down their throats and into the guts and eventually hearts, to send that inky blackness coursing through their veins.

Past them lay the addled corpse of what once was a forest, relentlessly diminished by the ire of hunters and axes of harvesters. Peering past their blackened skins, the stumps glared a fleshy red, as if their true form lay tangled beneath the ground, biding its time until humanity overstepped…

Beyond the field of butchered plants lay the Heartlands proper, leering crimson even as Spires tried desperately to loot it. Within the darkness of the canopy, countless fangs hid away.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the dark bags that lay beneath them. Fatigue rarely felt so heavy. “Thank you,” I said. “Now, what- “

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

“-kind of military experience did ya have?”

Tully cocked an eyebrow above her scarred face. “As I said, I was an aide.”

I blew out from between my teeth. “That’d involve plannin’ army movements an’ th’ like?”

She nodded slowly, her head’s movements warping the shadows in the carriage’s azure light. “Correct.”

“Now you fill out… forms… n’ stuff.”

The woman inclined her head, somehow managing to look down on me all the while.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Quite the fall, hmm?”

“Indeed,” she concurred, her face stony.

My fingers itched for a cigarillo. I’d have to start saving them, though: my supplies wouldn’t last until Vane otherwise. “Doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

I shrugged, quietly pondering why she hadn’t halted the personal questions. “Bein’ part of Heltia – you must know somethin’ ‘bout th’ Albright’s Declaration. S’it why yer leavin’?”

Tully scoffed. “The entire thing is fabricated – a thin excuse to use Baylar and Esfaria to cut down on Heltia’s power. The Albright’s have wanted to renege on their promise for years.”

I jumped on her aggravation immediately. “Treaty’s nearly a century old, isn’t it? Ancient history’s fragile- “

“Head Neelam was alive when it was made,” the woman interjected. “He – he’s still alive.”

A wide smile split my jaw. “Still, s’not right to have a Blooded rulin’ people.”

She tutted. “If it were anyone else, perhaps. Most Blooded are volatile – inhuman – but Owlbloods are simply withdrawn.”

“I suppose. Scatterbrained s’what I’ve heard.” She opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but I stomped over it. “But don’t you think someone more human could do a better job?”

Her stare was colder than a Frost breeze. “Then they should have picked someone from the House.” Tully’s tone brooked no debate.

“You’re not worried ‘bout the other Houses?”

“I am. That’s why we’re leaving.”

I pursed my lips and nodded, as if acceding the point. “So Heltia’s got no Ravenblood, s’what yer sayin’?”

“Heltia would be the first to kill it.”

I raised my hands. “Alright, alright.” Idly, I caressed the hilt of the sword. “Y’know I’m still reelin’ at two hundred silvers – forty per group, you said. That’s years ‘o work for honest folk. Where’re the other wagons gettin’ that kind of money?”

“I don’t know,” she stated blandly, “you’ll have to ask them.”

“Right. Okay.” I chewed my lip, like I was deep in thought. Both she and I knew it was an act. “How d’you know it was Aron at the carriage, earlier?”

“He knocks in a specific manner.”

The pattern had been far too deliberate – unless the man had some sort of curse. There’d been a fellow in the gang who’d always done things his own, intricate way. Got antsy if he didn’t. Aron didn’t strike me as the sort, though. “Yer idea?”

“Yes.”

The carriage’s cramped confines barely had enough room for either of us. Despite the comfortable seats, it was stifling. I would’ve rather have been anywhere else, with anyone else.

Flashing a toothy grin, I leaned in. “That’s th’ end of the, uh, professional questions, but there’re a few that’ve really been diggin’ at me.”

A silence stretched as she considered my request. Not once did her beady eyes leave my own. For a moment, I thought she would refuse.

“Go ahead,” she said.

I ran my tongue around my mouth. “Why now?” I demanded, tilting my head up. “Bite’s on its way out, Frost ‘n all its snow is comin' in; s’not a good time fer travellin’.”

“The preparations simply fell in line now. To wait is to starve… or to… fall, under whatever House decides to take its chances.”

“Mm. I suppose.” I grasped the hilt of my sword. “What’s type o’ Blooded’re you?”

With a short huff of amusement, Tully replied. “I don’t have any. What makes you think I do?”

“Come on. Yer a Blooded,” I insisted with unfounded confidence. “I know it; Vin knows it; you know it.”

“I’m not a Blooded, Kit.”

“That girl you kicked out – she a relative?”

“My daughter.”

“She’s a Strain, then?”

A twitch took up residence in Tully’s finger. “I am not a Blooded.”

I leaned back against the carriage wall, crossing my legs. “What kind o’ Blooded would an aide to General Bina be? Well, question practically answers itself, don’t it?” I said, then scoffed quietly. “Yer Siik’s get.”

The twitch stilled suddenly. Slowly, Tully leaned forward, until her face was inches away from mine. “I am not a Spiderblood.” Her scars stood out in stark relief. Just like my mother’s face.

I couldn’t help myself. “How many scars’re on yer face? They’re straight – that’s someone’s blade-work.”

Tully leaned backwards. “I think your questions are done.”

“Too straight, though. I reckon you was tied down. Who in th’- ”

“Kit,” she hissed. “Do you want employment? Do you want the chits? Do you want to leave this place? Do you want to lose your team this opportunity?”

A vicious insult was born in my throat and died on my tongue. Not a moment too soon, the words finally imprinted themselves in my mind. Instead of trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

“I’m glad. Now go.”

Accompanied by a deliberate stiffness, I stood, threw open the carriage’s door and made my way out, stooped under the stifling confines of its roof.

“They were made by the Jackal. A long time ago.”

Unwittingly, I turned to look at her. Tully’s eyes bored into the wall opposite her, penetrating past it and reaching somewhere far away. After a moment spent staring at her, I staggered outside. My vision seemed incapable of focusing, and my breath came and went in sharp huffs.

For whatever reason, my fingers couldn’t close around the hilt of my blade.

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

When I found her, Kit was sat at the edge of the clearing, shivering. The day was cold due to Frost’s proximity, yet I didn’t for a moment mistake the cause of her tremors. As soon as I sat beside her, the swordswoman’s trembling ceased. She threw me a smile quarantined to her mouth. I let her pretend, and we related what we’d learned.

Maddie and Tully’s stories matched, though I hadn’t dug as far as Kit had. Their motivations for hiring us seemed straightforward. Something was off about the whole thing, though. But we couldn’t afford to turn down the opportunity.

Simultaneously, the two of us crushed the stones we’d been given hours earlier. Their cousins – given to each group – would crumble at the same time. It signalled the destruction of our precautions.

I turned around and stared at the caravan; the guards; the scarred woman and the hooded girl.

They were lying. That was certain. But neither of us knew what they were lying about.

I leaned back, staring at the clouded sky above. Did it matter? Everyone had secrets. In the end, they were none of my business.