Compared to downstairs, Sonagh’s apartments are surprisingly clean, tidy and homey. To be honest, I have a feeling the state of the tavern itself is perhaps more for aesthetics than anything else, perhaps to dissuade any of the kind of attention they don’t really want poking around here. Occupational forces, for example, since it’s been made abundantly clear to me as much through what’s not been said that Sonagh and a great many of his regulars used to be part of the Rundao resistance effort when that was still going on. Behind closed doors he clearly cares a good deal more about how he’s living.

We’re all camped out in the surprisingly spacious main room now, although with our entire group there’s still not that much room for all of us. Kesla immediately took one of the easy chairs when we were bade to sit down, setting Hefdred down by its side in a clear indication that she feels safe enough in here, so I unslung my own sword and set it down beside the couch as I sat next to Tulen, Shay immediately planting herself on my other side. Kesla warned Art off from planting himself in the oldest and most worn looking of the chairs, which I suspect is Sonagh’s favoured spot. By this point, though, Yeslee had already taken the only remaining chair, so Art and Krakka had to make do with settling on the floor, although neither of them really seem too bothered about it now we’re all comfortable.

It’s a nice place, simply furnished but very cheerful really. The furniture’s seen better days but the floor’s carpeted with well-maintained, clean rugs, and there are plenty of nick-nacks and souvenirs spread about the place. Some sit on shelves in the surprisingly well-stocked bookcase against the far wall, others are mounted on the rust-coloured painted walls or set out on what’s clearly a simple tea table sat between us. A lot of old weapons or pieces of armour, which I suspect are souvenirs from Sonagh’s younger days, since he’s clearly an old soldier. I imagine the Rare Lady is as much to realise his retirement dream as a place to hide from the Provisional Government in his final years.

He's pottering about in a nook around the corner, having headed straight in there once we all came up and he dropped the trapdoor closed behind Krakka. The whistling of a boiling kettle starts to sound, and after a few moments he silences it before I hear pouring water while a little steam starts to waft out. He emerges a few minutes later, bearing a tray with a chipped but perfectly serviceable old teapot and several mugs on it. Some of the mugs are already piping, which I suspect is for those of us who asked for coffee instead of tea.

“Okay, now I warn you the coffee’s probably not the best, it’s been stewing on the stove since first light, but the tea’s fresh. Anybody wants to change their minds now’s the time.”

No-one takes him up on the offer, so I imagine Yeslee, Tulen and Krakka are going to take the risk. Sonagh sets the tray down on the table and passes their mug, then starts pouring tea for the rest of us.

“It’s a nice place you have here, Master Sonagh.” I think I just start talking to get rid of the relative silence, I’m so nervous it’s all I can do to keep my seat and not start pacing.

“Yeah, it’s proper cosy.” Kesla adds as she takes the first mug when it’s offered.

“Beats a rocky picket or a cold cell after capture, I’ll give it that.” Sonagh speaks with something approaching bitterness, but there’s a little bit smile to the corner of his lips all the same. “Older I get, the more I try to take all the comfort I can get, really. Got pretty worn out all them years I fought for Rundao, an’ then trying to see them bastards out after, for all the good it did. Almost all it really earned me was a bunch of ugly scars an’ some pretty angry joints when it gets cold.”

“No offence, but you still look dangerous enough to me.” Kesla blows on her tea before taking a sip.

That makes him grin, and it’s as rough as I would’ve expected to look at. He seems to have more broken teeth than just that tusk. “I can still handle myself well enough when folk start shit in my pub. Even if it weren’t for Dow, never had any need for a bouncer in this place.”

“Yeah, well your crowd seem the kind to stick together anyway.” Kesla watches him over the rim of her mug. “Most of ‘em, at least.”

He keeps grinning as he passes me a steaming mug with a simple steel spoon sat in it and I start stirring immediately, although there seems to be the subtlest edge to his look now as he regards Kesla again. “Reckon you’d know much about that as I do, tell the truth. Takes one to know one, ain’t that how they put it?”

Kesla smiles now. “Once upon a time, maybe. Then that shit went down in Tabaphic an’ it spread fast. Like history repeating itself, way it happened.”

“You’re right about that, sure. Funny how that all turned out. Had plenty time to think about it all after it all went down, an’ it always felt like one of us turned for it to happen like that.” He passes a mug to Shay and starts on Art’s.

The tea doesn’t smell particularly special, but it’s fragrant all the same, and when I finally take a sip it’s tasty too. Sonagh clearly knows how to take fairly cheap tea and brew it well. I give Tulen a sidelong glance as she takes a sip of her coffee and see a rather complicated expression play across my friend’s face as she tries not to wince. Clearly that wasn’t such a great choice, sound like it’s a bit burnt by now. Yeslee seems fine with it though, much like Krakka, but they’re used to roughing it enough to be happy with what they can get.

“You clearly made your peace with it since, given how you’re making your living these days.” Kesla’s still watching Sonagh closely as he lets the latest mug settle, and I wonder if she’s trying to shake something loose, either a reaction or simply some fresh information I don’t know anything about.

“Part of it, at least.” Whatever it is, Sonagh doesn’t rise to the bait as he finally passes Art his tea. “Daste ain’t a Provisional. She makes peace how she can, but reckon she’d be happy as the rest of us if we could get Rundao back how we had it before. She’s just smart enough not to make waves bigger’n she can cover for, at least. Important thing is she keeps peace for us more’n she ever bothers with them lot on the hill, so I’m happy to work with ‘er if she needs it.” He grins again as he picks up the pot to start pouring a last mugful for himself. “Besides, the cash is good. Lot better’n what I can scrape outta this place.”

“It seems like a perfectly nice tavern to me, Master Sonagh.” Tulen’s trying to fight a slight eye-twitch in response to another mouthful of coffee.

Sonagh barks a particularly throaty laugh. “Please, the place is a dive, an’ that’s the point. If I tried to open a nice clean veterans’ pub here in the Drumhalt the Terrors’d have been on top o’ me in a week. This way I own a bar an’ nobody I don’t like gives a shit. My folk down there all know the score, they’re just happy to have a place to get a drink won’t cost ‘em a month’s wage without them bastards breathing down their necks.”

The trapdoor bursts open and Yeslee’s on her feet in an instant, already snatching her up bow and slipping an arrow from her quiver before she even starts turning. She already has it nocked by the time the first figure starts to ascend through the opening, but Sonagh starts to wave her down before she draws. There’s two of them now, the second already clambering up under the first before they’re even all the way through.

“Da! Da, you ain’t gonna believe this! There’s a bloody golem in the square!”

Far as I can tell they’re twins, a boy and a girl, although I can only really tell that from their slightly different clothing styles since they’re otherwise almost identical, right down to their shaggy shoulder-length black hair. They’re smaller and leaner than their father, their orcish features less pronounced, and it’s instantly clear they’re only half, and they’re also very young teenagers going from by gangly, overactive boisterousness.

“Now what’d I tell you ‘bout using your indoor voices?” Sonagh’s stood as calm and collected as if this was just a social call as he stirs his tea and gives his children a rather unconvincing stern look. “I got company.”

“Oh shit!” the boy exclaims, looking us all over as he settles on the top step now, the girl below giving his back a slightly irritated look that vanishes immediately as her own curiosity takes over. “Sorry da. But really, there’s this great huge golem out there. He’s just stood right outside, watching the place. Proper weird it is.”

Sonagh frowns, turning to look my way.

“He’s with us.” Kesla answers him before he even asks. “That’s Driver 8. We just figured it’d be better if he stayed out there. He’s a little too big for your pub.”

He cocks a brow, looks her over for a moment longer, then just takes a pull on his tea, not even bothering to blow on it first.

“That’s your golem?” the girl pipes up as she shoves her brother out of the way climbing out after him. “Cool! He must’ve cost you a bloody fortune.”

Art starts laughing at that, and even Yeslee cocks a brow. Kesla looks my way, her mouth quirking a little, and I can’t help smiling too.

Finally Krakka decides to set them straight. “We don’t own him, he’s our friend. Big Man’s his own person, and he’s part of our group.”

The twins share a look, then grin wide. “Wow, that’s even better!” the boy proclaims “So he’s like … I dunno … smart an’ stuff?”

This raises further chuckles, but Krakka just soldiers on. “Oh yes, very. He also probably knows everything that’s going on within five blocks of here, so he’s impossible to sneak up on. And he could lift this entire building out of its foundations if he chose to.”

I have to raise a brow at that one, maybe he’s overselling our friend a bit, but I let it sit. It’s definitely done its intended job on the twins, who simply move into the room proper, leaving the trapdoor open, currently forgotten. Looking at Sonagh, I can tell he’s proving harder to convince, but then he’s clearly a man of the world. Finally setting his mug down on the table, he folds his arms and regards his children. “Like I said, I got company, and what are the rules when I got company?”

The boy starts to look crestfallen, while the girl just frowns, clearly perturbed. “Go upstairs, keep it down, and no listening in on stuff don’t concern us. We know.”

“Well then …” He gives them both a look, and after a moment the girl just huffs and rolls her eyes before grabbing her brother by the arm and towing him around to the closed door behind them. When she opens it I see more stairs leading upwards a little way down the passage, then the door’s slammed behind them a little louder than I think their father would like before they start stomping their way up.

Picking up his mug again, Sonagh goes to the remaining chair and finally eases down into it, sighing deep as he settles back. “My children, Taga and Tebb. They’re …” He waves his hand vaguely as he searches for the right words.

“A handful?” Kesla beats me to my thought.

“Gods, yes.” He chuckles for a few moments, seeming tired again. “They are that. I lost their ma a few years ago, and … I ain’t made to raise children, certainly not on my own. They run roughshod over me a lot of the time, so I try to put my foot down where I can. They’re almost fourteen now, though, so they become a whole lot more difficult of late.”

“I can imagine. You need all the help you can get, especially financially.” Kesla looks to me again, and I think she wants me to start pressing. I guess the pleasantries are done, then.

Sonagh seems to have had the same thought himself. He takes another big pull on his mug and sets it down on the table again, sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he looks my way. “Your da’s a good man, I worked with him a few times now. Soon as he dropped outta sight I knew some scary shit’s going down in Untermer. Been doing some discreet hunting round on my own since, trying to get an idea of what might’ve happened to ‘im, but so far …” He shrugs. “Coldest trail I ever seen out there right now. That ain’t a good sign all on its own. Your da’s smart, might be smartest guy I ever met, an’ capable as hell, so for something to get the best of him is proper scary.”

I take a big gulp of the tea myself, as much to wet my suddenly dry throat as anything else. Even so, I still have to clear it after. “We … um, we understand this is turning into something of a pattern, overall. In the case, I mean. Disappearances. First local people, some homeless, some not, then the official who was assigned to look into it. Now my father.”

“It’s a quandary, all right.” Sonagh nods. “Back in my army days, we called that hinky. This is shit sure ain’t s’posed to be happening. I mean sure, folk disappear all the time, but not like this. Yeah, I agree some of ‘em are homeless, but the ones that raised a flag ain’t the ones in that community most would’ve expected to just up and leave without a word. And some of the others … ain’t just singulars, some are disappearing in groups. We got entire families just gone overnight.”

I share a look with Kesla and she’s frowning deep. That’s definitely not right at all. She sits forward herself now, clutching her mug between folded fingers as she looks up at Sonagh. “You’re right, that is hinky. Were there any leads at all, or –”

“Whole lot of contradictions, mostly. Some o’ the scenes, places were turned over, proper smashed up, like folk were lookin’ for stuff, ‘cept folk who knew the people knew there weren’t anything missing, an’ these weren’t the kinda folk to be hidin’ stuff in the first place. These were just workin’ folk, scraping a living best they could. Wouldn’t just up and bolt middle of the night, an’ definitely wouldn’t leave their own places trashed on the way out. Not to mention there’s blood, sometimes. Like folk got hurt ‘fore they got dragged out. Or worse, maybe.”

“But not always, right?”

“Exactly. Sometimes places were pristine, you’d reckon they just stepped out for a minute or two, they’d be back soon, but then never did. Meals laid out on tables, food on the stove, washing soaking in a basin or a letter middle o’ writing. Candles burning middle o’ the day, whatever. Bloody creepy when it’s like that.”

“An’ the Provisionals ain’t doin’ shit about it, right?” Kesla almost sneers saying it.

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“Why’d they give a shit ‘bout it in the first place? It’s all happening down here, an’ this is the biggest port in all Rundao. Folk come an’ go from here every day, for all they know could just be a mass exodus for folk had enough with Terror rule, lighting out for Abharet an’ freedom. Ain’t the businesses, ain’t the rich folk, don’t have no effect on them. So they’re turning a blind eye.”

“So it ain’t happening with any of the crews in the docks, then? No sailors or workers taking a powder down there, just going poof in the night?”

“Nope. An’ far as I heard through my contacts, nobody in the Thieves Guild either. An’ you can bet they’re watchin’ this with interest. This is their community much as ours.”

Kesla turns to look at Art when he says that, and I’m not surprised. His ears have pricked up too at those words, and he’s sitting up now. He puts his own mug down on the floor in front of him, flexing his fingers for a moment as he grows thoughtful.

After a moment, Kesla turns back to Sonagh. “From what Mistress Daste told us, the townsguard ain’t much better on this right now.”

“Yeah, that’s true enough. Got a few contacts in there too, they tell me the handful’s been tasked with looking into it are draggin’ their feet like they’re getting paid extra for it.” He cocks a brow in a particularly knowing fashion, indicating exactly what he thinks of that. “As for the ones I trust are straight enough to actually give a shit, they ain’t been able to turn up anything more’n I already have.”

“Daste said that the man she put on it originally, Harrith, was cleaned out right after he disappeared, as though someone came to his office and his private residence and cleaned out all his notes.” I shrug. “At least that’s her pervading theory.”

“Which certainly holds water cuz your da pointed the same thing out to me when he started on this too. Means whoever is doin’ this is actively workin’ on making sure anybody out there looking into it ain’t got a trail to follow either.” He scratches his chin, thoughtful again.

“An’ yet, you’re still here.” Kesla puts her finger right on what he’s probably thinking.

“That’s right, I am. Which means one o’ two things. One, my time’s running out on this too. Means I got a stake in this same as you. I lived long enough already, don’t care that much if they come for me, but I don’t want my kids goin’ out one morning with their mates an’ not coming home again. An’ I reckon they’re startin’ to pick up on it.”

“And what’s the other?” Art gets there before the rest of us.

“Whoever it is don’t give two fucks what I think, which is a whole lot scarier to me, cuz that means they don’t reckon they can be caught.”

“Meaning that they’re either well-connected enough nobody can touch ‘em, or somebody a whole lot higher up’s covering for ‘em.” Kesla takes a deep pull from her mug, then licks her lips with a frowns. “Then again, there could be a third option.”

Sonagh cocks a brow. “I might just be in on it myself.”

Kesla just stares right back at him. “Only a fool’d overlook the possibility.”

This raises a rueful grin as he sits back at last, lacing his fingers together. “True enough. If I say I’m not, how likely is it you’ll take me at my word?”

“Honestly? Likely enough. You seem a straight enough arrow to me. ‘Sides, your ex-Legion. You wouldn’t turn on these folk any more’n I would, so there’s no way you’d have anything to do with what’s happening to ‘em now.”

Nodding, Sonagh regards her for a long moment, tapping his chin as he steeples his fingers, his smile staying in place but growing more contemplative. “Y’know, your da’d be right proud o’ you, I reckon.”

“My da … what?” Kesla frowns at him now.

“Shoon … you’re Edhril Shoon’s lass, ain’t you? I didn’t know ‘im, but I heard plenty about ‘im over the years. Couldn’t serve without knowin’ about that man, lass. Heard ‘e went down hard as ‘e lived. Heard about you, too, in the Legion. You were right in the thick of it when it went bad in Tabaphic. Lot of us thought you were dead after that. Weren’t many made it out as it was.”

Kesla sighs deeply as she sets her mug down on the table before sitting back too. “Went to ground for a while after. Freedom Legion was good an’ dead after Tabaphic, didn’t seem to be much point in trying to fight on. So I went back to Hocknar ‘til it all blew over, then I turned merc. Didn’t really seem to be much else I could do, really.”

“I know what you mean, I was in the same boat.” He spreads his hands wide. “And so here we are.”

“So there’s nothing, then?” I sigh after a few moments of complicated silence. “We’ve got nothing to go on at all?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” Sonagh sits up again. “Because the other night, something else went down just over other side of the river got me thinking again. Three mercs, much like yourself, got attacked while doing their own little investigation. They took off before anybody in the townsguard could talk to ‘em, but from what I heard, this is about some friends o’ theirs went missing too. If they’re the same folks they’re s’posed to be, anyway.”

“And you know who they are?” Kesla’s perched on the edge of her chair now, and I can’t help following her example.

“Course I do. Wrote it down, too. Like I wrote down everything about the case. Weren’t anything fresh I could do anything with before that, but now …” His grin is somewhat cocked, but it’s a relief to see it all the same. “You lot might’ve come along at just the right time, truth be told.” He leans onto his knees and gets up with a great popping of old, rusty joints and a little frustrated wheeze. And an arrow hits him in the back.

He keeps his windows pasted over much like downstairs, there’s an open crack at the top of each to let a little light and air in but it’s far too high for anyone to look inside, even if they could see across from the opposite roofs with trees in the way. Instead, somebody just shot right through the papered glass and somehow caught their mark dead on.

It happens so suddenly none of us react. There’s just a crack as the arrow breaks the glass and it hits home and he doesn’t even go down, it just hits him in the back and he stumbles forward, winded but mostly surprised. The pain hasn’t even hit him yet. Then small pieces of glass hit the floor and as they break that’s what starts waking us up. Yeslee reacts first, just like I would’ve expected, but Kesla and Art are close behind her.

Then more arrows start coming, a few smashing the other window and starting to rain down around us, and the first thing I actually know about it is when Art scrambles up and just grabs hold of me, dragging me down, and I have just enough sense to snag Tulen’s wrist. Barely a blink later one of the arrows digs into the couch cushion right where my throat would’ve been, then I hit the floor and Tulen’s sprawling over me in a startled heap.

Kesla’s going for Sonagh, but while everything just seems to have gotten slow for me all of a sudden, the way it does sometimes when I’m really scared, suddenly she’s more sluggish than a snail. There’s another loud crack and another arrow hits him higher in the back, and this time it must hit something serious because he starts going down. Usually it takes a lot more than two arrows to put a full-blooded orc down, at least unless Yeslee’s firing them. Somehow I doubt these are coming with anything like that kind of force.

Not to say they’re not still dangerous. More are coming through both windows, hitting the furniture with what would’ve been scary precision if we were all still sitting there, and the only thing that’s still holding the glass together at this point is the pasted playbills and posters. That said, there are big holes in the panes now, some of them shot out entirely, and I worry this might make further shooting more dangerously accurate if we start moving.

“Stay down!” Kesla shouts, waving Krakka down as he tries to reach Sonagh, and she’s clearly having the same thought I am. Then the door bursts open and the twins are there, looking around with wild eyes as they take the scene in, and Shay’s already moving a beat before I know it’s her.

“What’s going … DA!!” The girl, Taga I guess, pretty much screams her father’s name, while Tebb’s eyes just go wide as he seems to root to the spot, then Shay tackles the pair of them and bears them to the floor. A blink before two more arrows rip another pane right out of the window and jam themselves in the wall behind where the twins’ faces would’ve been.

Tulen’s already starting to move, but I push her off all the same, a little rougher than I might prefer as I peel my gloves off and start working my sigil before I’m even on my feet. I hear Kesla shout a warning behind my back but I just ignore it as I step in front of the nearest window, right in front of Krakka, and I spit into my right palm at the same moment I complete the sigil with my left, rubbing them both together for a moment. Then I thrust them both through the sigil as is starts to swell while I breathe the keyword, and spread both wide in front of me, the glowing lines flaring bright white now as they expand. “Go! Now!!”

If seeing my protective shield spread out wasn’t enough incentive for Krakka, my shout is. He picks Bloodmoon up and charges through our surprised sprawl while more of the window is smashed away by more arrows that shatter into splinters when they hit the glowing energy shield with a resonant thock. I take a few sidesteps as he covers the ground, spreading the somewhat amorphous shield into something more of a stretched smear to cover him, then just step all the way up to the second window to concentrate it as he reaches Sonagh.

“Hurry, please! I can’t hold this for very long!” More arrows are wiping out big chunks of the second window now and the shield’s taking them out just as effectively as the others, but I’m starting to feel the impacts now, which is not a good sign. “Quickly!”

Kesla’s clearly taken it to mind, as I look sideling over my shoulder I see her grab Sonagh’s arm as he’s sprawled out facedown now, and she starts dragging him across the worn rug for the cover of the solid wall between the windows. He’s big and heavy as any other orc, though, and she’s having to really flex to budge him. Then Krakka skids up beside her and grabs his other arm and they start pulling together, and Sonagh properly starts to move. My hands are warming up fast now, but they’re making progress now, and with a count of three they’re clear and I jump down beside them just as my hands really get to burning and I’m forced to drop the shield.

The shooting stops the moment there are no more targets for them to ply for, and I get the feeling they’re probably going to call it a day once they realise we won’t show ourselves again any time soon. I shake my hands vigorously and start blowing hard on them to try and cool them, shooting a glance to Kesla, who must get what I’m thinking because she immediately checks both windows and turns to Art.

“They’re gonna move. A minute more at most and whoever that is will be gone.”

“I got it, boss.” Art starts smiling just a little now, and it’s a little scary actually, that’s his dark smile, the one reserved for when he’s excited for a chase. He starts running while he’s still rising and throws himself at the first window low down, bringing his arms up to protect his face at the last as he throws himself right through it. Yeslee crashes through the other one barely a breath after him.

Shay’s right after Art before any of us can say anything to stop her, shouting: “Just say down!” before making Art’s hole a bit bigger, pretty much taking out all that’s actually left of the window.

Even as the remnants of the windows they’ve torn loose crash down into the square below, more arrows whip through the enlarged holes, although these are clearly fired with less accuracy, shots of opportunity now they can see more of the room. There aren’t as many as before, either, the shots petering out fast, and I suspect they’re already starting to retreat now they’re clearly being actively pursued. Even so, I keep my head down with the others for a few more beats.

Sonagh coughs once into the rug his face is half pressed into, his eyelids flickering now, rolled up white it seems, and Kesla leans closer. “Fuck … Krakka, he’s going. You gotta do something now.”

“DA!!!” Taga screams again, and with Shay gone there’s no-one to stop her from jumping up enough to scramble over with her clearly rattled brother in tow before any of us can stop them. Neither of them are shot, and they drop unceremoniously on the floor at their father’s side as Krakka looks over the two arrows jutting from his broad back.

“Careful!” Krakka hisses before Taga can reach out and try to pull either of them loose. He leans close to inspect the wounds, then reaches out himself. Instead of trying to remove the arrows, he tears the hole in his shirt wider around the first the first shaft, then enlarges it a little more before opening up the second to just expose the whole wounded part of his back. “Oh … no, that’s not good.”

I crawl closer on my hands and knees and look at the wounds. There’s a lot of blood, but even so I can see enough of the skin to make out strange dark lines starting to radiate out from the wounds that clearly aren’t tattoos. If I didn’t know better, I could almost think it was frostbite. Something’s spreading through his system. “Minerva … there must be something on the arrows, some kind of poison maybe. Don’t touch them.”

Krakka gives me a worried look. “They have to come out. I can’t heal these wounds if they’re still in.”

“So what do we –”

Kesla grabs the teapot off the table and pours the whole lot out all over Sonagh’s back, the arrows included. There’s a sizzling hiss as the hot tea scalds his skin, but he gives no reaction. I don’t think he could feel anything now. The rest of us jump back at the hot, wet splash, but it’s more surprise than anything else, and before either Krakka or I can react Kesls just reaches out and gives one of the arrows a quick twist before yanking up and out. There’s a wet, gristly pop as it tears free and she hurls it as far across the room as she can, then goes right back for the other.

This one seems a little more stubborn, and she stops. “Damn it … this one’s dug in a little too well, might be caught on something solid. I try pulling this out the head could snap off inside ‘im and then he’s fucked.”

For a moment Krakka just stares at her, clearly a little shocked by the tea thing, but then he gives his head a little shake and frowns at the remaining shaft. Then he reaches out and snaps the top half off with about six inches left sticking out. “Help me lift him.”

With a blink, Kesla seems to get it, taking hold of his arm to tilt him a little off his chest. Taga immediately shoves her brother aside and grabs hold of her father’s shoulder to help, then Tebb finally snaps out of his own shock and joins in beside his sister. Between the three of them it’s short work, especially once they’ve lifted him enough that Krakka can work one hand under and start tipping too. Then he turns to me. “I need your knife.”

“My what … why?” I reach under my cloak and slip my knife out from the back of my belt. “I don’t –”

He doesn’t answer, simply snatching it from my hand and holding it blade up. Leaning forward, he frowns over the exposed shaft a moment, then takes hold of the tip of the blade with his other hand and lays the flat right over the broken end. “I need you to hit this. Hard as you can.”

Oh … yeah, now I get it. In the back of my head I say a prayer to Minerva in the hope that those bastards on the rooftops really have run away as I stand up and retrieve my staff, carefully taking it up in both hands. “Okay, on three, you ready?”

“Hopefully.” Krakka’s frown grows a tiny bit deeper as he carefully adjusts his grip on the naked blade of my knife which I keep good and sharp for whatever I might need it for.

“Just be careful.” I take a breath and cock the staff, taking careful aim. Thankfully no-one shoots me in the interim. “One. Two. Three.” I jab the blunt of my staff down and thankfully my aim’s good and square as I jam it hard into the flat of my knife’s blade.

While he manages to keep hold of the hilt, he clearly cuts himself as my strike knocks the knife down in his grip, and he whips his offhand away as he hisses his displeasure. The stroke does its trick all the same, the blade smacking the broken end of the shaft and driving the arrow further through Sonagh’s tough muscle and whatever else seems to be hindering it. There’s a more substantial spurt of blood from his chest as the arrowhead erupts from it.

Suddenly realisation hits me that none of us planned what to do once the arrow was through, but Tulen’s ahead of us, finally getting over her own surprise over this whole situation and jumping right in. She grabs the exposed tip and draws what’s left of the arrow out of the fresh wound with a quick, deft tug, then just drops on her bum, staring at the bloody thing in her hand.

“Drop it!” I shout at her, terrified of whatever might happen even if the whole thing is covered in Sonagh’s blood. “Now!!”

Tulen jolts, as surprised by the tone of my voice as my words, and tosses it so hard the arrowhead pierces the couch cushion it hits. She looks at her hand now as realisation seems to dawn, and immediately sets to work stripping her glove away. “Gods … am I … what’s going to happen?”

“Reckon you’ll be okay.” Kesla looks at her own hand and lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t feel any different.”

Sonagh’s bleeding more heavily into the rug he’s been set back down on now, and Krakka’s already praying under his breath, eyes closed and hands laid over each wound. With his hammer set aside and no clear symbols of his goddess on him right now that could suddenly flare up with holy light, there’s no direct indication that it’s even working, but as I move closer again I can see the cuts on his own fingers have already healed. More than that, I can feel something in him, a deep thrum emanating from him, a powerful throb of palpable energy. Serena’s pouring her light into Sonagh even if we can’t see it right now.

The twins are both touching their father now too, and while Tebb just looks shaken and clearly on the verge of tears, Taga’s watching Krakka with a complicated look. Like she can pick up on what he’s doing, and I think she might even be willing this to work as much as our cleric. I turn to Shay, wanting to gauge her reaction to this, but then remember she’s gone, along with Art and Yeslee.

Minerva … I hope they’re all right …