The next morning was not the happy occasion Frank had wanted it to be. Katri’s situation was like a dark cloud handing over his head. Not only for her, but it brought up the very thing he was worried about: exploitation. He’d seen how far Deli would go to repay a debt. So how did the firekeepers feel about it all, and what did they tolerate, in the name of survival?

He knew there were limits, the Wailing Women and Lamenting Men proved as much, but there was a lot of abuse one could take, and stay silent on. Especially if such things were not spoken of in rumours and it felt like they were isolated, alone.

Fortunately, that wasn’t so, from what he could tell.

Most firekeepers were free to seek the protection of another warrior, if one was abusing them. And he’d heard a few rumours about assholes, men and women among the Reclaimers, who couldn’t keep one in service without paying them extra for it. The trouble came when the firekeeper was a pariah, or under the thumb of a powerful warrior in the first place.

Deli wouldn’t speak of “That Demonspawn” but she would address the point of rumours keeping quiet about it.

“Many likely know what’s happening.” She explained. “But speaking of it will only worsen her life. If the Deathless has taken an interest, he’d be the one you’d be challenging by speaking ill of it. And none will gainsay him, not for a Demonspawn.”

It wasn’t hate or pity, she spoke with. It was fury, covering pain. Betrayal.

“You looked up to her, didn’t you?”

Frank didn’t ask. He didn’t want to get into a fight about it. Not yet. Not until his own head was clear.

But he did bring out his new creation.

The thing about clamping down on motes of mana had given him an insight for something of a regulator rune. He’d gone looking among his notes from the cave, and found something that read to him like flow rate. He’d been kludging it together using the Rune connections themselves, creating heat and light as a consequence of leaking the power slowly.

The spiked circle was the sign for boundary in Eversnow. Red Sun runes had their own, but they were, in general, much more segmented things. They were more like letters, syllables. Rune stones made with them were more of the rune-word variety.

It meant that he had to carve multiple fine, delicate letters into a single stone, to complete a single Rune. But the boundary rune in Eversnow was made to combine with others, surround and define them. It had taken him a bit of experimentation to figure out how each spike of the rune regulated its operation, but he felt he probably had it now.

Three full pages of his notes were full with just this one rune.

But he’d finally managed to wrap it around a heat rune successfully.

The effect was nice. Putting it in a mask, like the ones they’d gotten for the Miasma, kept the air he was breathing in hot. Inside the house. It would make it warm outside, and keep his face warm. It didn’t last anywhere as long as the actual heat stones did, only having the staying power of a few hours.

But it was worth it for a rune that didn’t just heat the stone, but the nearby air around it too.

“Try it.”

Deli wrapped the mask around her face. Went out. Came back, after a little while. Pulling down the mask, she told him firmly. “Alright. You can go out, if you keep this up.”

Frank damn near danced. He was starting to claw at the walls. Not for being stuck inside so long, no. But that a mere cold was keeping him there was annoying the shit out of him.

***

They did their morning exercises outside, and Frank could finally start experimenting with the wands.

***

The first three all blew up and he got low on mana. It was frustrating. All three he’d tried had been in his better Runes, the Empire Red Sun runes. He had actual lessons in those. On the Wand he’d carved the same line he’d carved countless times, in his tent.

Practicing without magic, and with no way to empower it.

The line was “All the voices singing as one” and it as meant to focus and direct motes of mana sent into the wand. He’d done it in the same overly complex cursive that he’d been trained in. Not for practical work, but for evaluations.

The evidence was clear. His Agility and Carving Skill needed to be higher for this work. His lines were leaking, which the cursive was made to do, and do in a predictable way depending on the Ability and Skill of the user. He needed to get to the end of the line for full enchanting. His work was passable if it got halfway there, but only for simple work.

At a quarter?

“Anything below half, and you’d be wasting your time Hero. It’s not a matter of Will, or trying. That’s just not good enough. Not for magic. You’d be better served pushing your Agility and Skill until the letters are good enough to take them. Only thing anyone can do with those are the basic kinds of runes even witches and warlocks can do. It’s beneath a Mage, the work fit only for a Mageling starting out.”

“At Agility two, Carving two, I can only carve basic Runes. Gods damn it. This Curse needs to go.”

***

After the morning warm up, they went to the training hall, to get some weapon practice in. While Deli was resting, there was a disturbance in the hall. One of the kids fetching water and cloths for wiping sweat away, came to them with a message:

“There’s a firekeeper and her kid, looking for you at the door, Party Leader.” The tween girl respectfully told him with a bow, and scampered off. Back to watching one of the Shield Guards train. The kid had her own toy axe and shield, and was trying to follow along. She wasn’t the only kid in the room doing so.

Several firekeepers were sitting on benches along the sides, keeping watch on their kids while weaving, sewing, or washing laundry, but Frank paid them little attention. Few ever bothered their party. A Deli that got exhausted quickly, and Frank’s own staff work weren’t the most riveting of sights around here.

Deli was napping, and he let her rest, walking over to the entrance. In the hall, a man and a woman were waiting for him. One was at the doorway, wringing his hands, early forties. The other was young, seventeen, eighteen maybe, but tall. The elder was a firekeeper, with no clear weapons on him but a small hammer, while the youth was hanging back. She was in light furs, with axe and hammer strapped to her flanks, and a dagger in a thigh holster. The arch of a bow was visible over her shoulder.

“Good day, good man.” Frank greeted him.

“Good day, good day.” He replied, bowing in respect.

“I was told someone was looking for me?” He asked when the man stayed silent.

The firekeeper glanced at the young woman, and there was some family resemblance there. Not a lot, but some. She on the other hand was squinting at him, and angrily muttering to herself.

“Lilijah, my cousin’s child.” The firekeeper introduced her in a soft voice. She had long, raven black hair.

“You’d be the party leader from the Empire?” The man looked him up and down, the question obvious in his eyes.

“I am.” Frank replied evenly.

“You’re a cripple, Sir.” The man pointed out, formally, politely, but just as blunt as so many here were. He was starting to frown.

“Not for long. I’ve made the Pilgrimage and the Tree bloomed for me.” Frank replied, feeling just a bit attacked.

His face went back to worrying. “My apologies. I’ve had a dreadful few months.”

The woman snorted.

“Not now, Lilijah.” He snapped to the side. She grimaced and pursed her lips, but held her peace. Looking Frank up and down, and not looking at all impressed with him.

“Dreadful.” he repeated. “She was raised by her father, well trained!” He hurried to add. “You’ll not find a girl her age with her set of Skills, I don’t think.”

Frank interrupted him. “What’s this about?”

The man fretted, swallowing. Pulled him aside, away from the door. “Her father died, summer before last, and my cousin has been at her wits end with her ever since. She’s remarried, and her second father and Lilijah don’t get along. Her mother sent her to me this Spring, to let the girl get her eighteenth with the Reclaimers, find a party. She’s a hunter at heart. A good one.”

Frank was paying attention. The young woman wasn’t that close by. She still flushed with pride at the praise. He was starting to understand.

“And you heard we’d been looking for one.”

“Yes.” The man nodded. “I thought, I thought you might take her. Only for a few quarters, as a trial?” He trailed off.

“I might.” Frank told him, not about to decide without more details. “What have you got?” He asked out loud, looking at her.

She scoffed again, but rattled off: “Agility three, Body three, Reaction three, Strength two. And I can use all of these“ she ran her hands over her weapons, “well.” she finished, with a vicious smile.

“Got a sling too?” He asked casually, while running the math in his head.

“Body three, so 30. Strength two, so another 10. Three Agility for 9, and 2 per Reaction is 6. So she should have 55 Health total. Not bad.”

Her hand disappeared into one of her many cloak pockets, and came out with a snap, unfurling a sling. She had it loaded and ready to fire as if she’d done it hundreds of times.

“And I can use all of them to put you on the ground with ease, staff man.”

“That’s at least four Agility Skills, and she’s Agility three.”

But he’d seen that same configuration of weapons before. In Deedbeat’s party, the hunter.

“You’ve got a Style Skill.” They both looked at him in confusion. He went back over rumour mill in his head, how they talked here. “A Skill on a Path.”

She raised her chin, looking at him in challenge. “Aye, I do.”

The sling went back to its pouch. She drew both axe and hammer and took a stance. Frank couldn’t tell if it was a real one, or a good imitation, but that would be easy to check.

Hammer and axe clashed in formal greeting before her, ringing out. “Hunter of the Eversnow.”

Almost in reflex, his fist hammered into his chest with a loud thump. It was supposed to hit a breastplate. “Spearman of the Red Sun.” he gave answer.

That was going to bruise. Health was wonderful, but “scrapes and bruises is how we learn.”

Frank didn’t take a stance, because he didn’t feel any need to prove himself. And he lacked the shield and Strength for it.

Her eyes widened at that, and she glanced at his burned face, then to his injured arm. “Healing, are you?”

“I am.” He told her levelly.

Her posture shifted a bit. Not so much to respect, but some regard. She wasn’t dismissing him anymore. Which was nice, but not a great demonstration of her attitude and willingness to be a team player.

“So what’s the problem?” He asked, not her, but him, while keeping her firmly in his sight, pinned in place by a command inspection look. Every soldier and warrior could recognise it. She did, firming her spine, but she didn't like being under one.

With his Command more than half-way up to a three, he was probably already operating at Command one.

The hand wringing was back, Frank noticed from the corner of his eye. “She’s… a bit of a handful. Wilful. Has… tastes that not all are comfortable with, in their party. I thought, being from the Empire…”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Frank wasn’t sure quite what he was walking about, or how delicate he was supposed to be here. They were, generally, very blunt people. In the Empire, no one cared about that. They cared more about what you were getting out of your bedmate, then strictly what the pairing was.

“People have a problem with that around here?” He asked.

“Do you?” She challenged, again.

“I don’t know. I’m not actually sure if we’re talking about what I think we’re talking about. If we are, I don’t. But I’m not the only party member.” He told her.

She scowled, folding her arms before her and glancing away. Didn’t tell him one way or another.

Her cousin the firekeep whispered to him “She’s been trying to bed other girls. Many here don’t like it.”

Yeah. That was what he was afraid of. He wasn’t even touching how that whole thing worked and intersected with firekeeper traditions. That was a spiral of moral and ethical doom liable to send him looking for a drink to suppress the whole line of thought.

Frank had no problem with it, personally. What happened between consensual adults was their business.

“She is out of her apprenticeship years?” He asked, because it would be extra bad if she was a minor on top of everything. Twelve to eighteen was considered the time to apprentice. Before reaching adulthood and heading out on a journey of your own.

“Aye. This spring. Mother sent her my way to keep out of trouble. I fear I’ve failed, in that regard.” The firekeeper admitted.

“I’ll need to ask around.” He told them.

Because no matter what she said, or claimed, he wasn’t taking a hunter on without knowing her reputation and having her accessed by someone respectable in the field. Good then, that Deadbeat was expected back in the afternoon.

***

“The little kit has been scratching at every hunter’s party door, since we’ve arrived. Of course I know her.” Deadbeat told him.

“She’s good for her age, and it’s gone to her head.” she informed him.

Her head nodded at Deli, who was among her own party, speaking to the warriors there.

“I think her Body might have done her a favour. To be born talented, just grow into a four before twenty? It can get people wrapped up in their own glory. Get them killed too.”

She snorted. “I suppose hers almost did, until you decided to dig her out of the snow.”

Frank wasn’t getting into it again. They’d had this argument already.

“Finally got through that thick skull of hers too.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Deli always had the hunger about her. Like I did, when I was her age. We all did. That wish, the pride, to lead our own party someday. It’s a younglings game.”

Frank frowned at that, pointing out: “We’re both leading one, now.”

“Yes. And I busted my feet, ploughing through the snows under a better Hunter for over a year, till I earned the privilege. The younglings with legends in their ears and songs on their lips? Every one of them think they’ll be special. That they’ll be in one of the tales, some day. I’m guessing your rise wasn’t all clear paths either.”

“No. No it was not.”

The Academy was basically special forces training, for this world. The people recruited were random. Not special forces material.

That the dropout rate due to one vice or another wasn’t more than a quarter was only possible with literal divine intervention, both from the regular priestly attention, and from their Heroic Blessings. He did not have any Will Skill at four, when he woke up naked on the floor of the summoning chamber.

"Now I have three, and that's only because four was the max with four Will, I'd wager. Or my Will wouldn't have been pushed to the brink already, before the fire."

Even after the Academy, he’d been put under another, more experienced Captain. After learning first party, then company level Command, Tactics, Strategy, for over a year and a half. With theory and live practice.

If not for the escort services, he’d have gone mad or turned to one of the drugs on offer as well. Or the damn arena, for blood sports.

“What’s you point?” Frank asked.

“Point is, Deli’s faced death now. Learned she’s mortal, for all her gifts, and knows what she will or won’t die for. Made some manner of peace with it. The kit is still looking. Until she finds it, she’ll need a firm hand to keep her alive, and mine are full with my lot.”

Loud laughter broke out, interspersed with giggles and howls, at the other table. “Speaking of.” Deadbeat set off to see what all the noise was about.

***

When she got back in her seat, she said: ”Harmless foolery, this time. Your girl bet Varadol she could give him a kiss so hot, it would burn his tongue.”

Frank asked the obvious question, already knowing what was coming.

“He takes it, of course, the fool. So she comes up to him with that damn brew of hers, takes a swallow, and gives it right to him.”

Frank started laughing as well.

“Find it funny, do you?” She asked, looking stern, but her lips were quirked up, just a bit.

“Well, he was asking for it.” He told her.

“Aye. He did. Should have known better then to challenge a former Grower.”

“So how’d he like the fireshroom stew?” Frank asked. He’d found it fairly spicy, but not really a problem for him. But the food around here did tend towards bland.

“He drowned it in milk, first chance.” Deadbeat said, shaking her head. “After his head got so red, they asked him if he was a sunset.”

Frank chuckled, while Deadbeat refrained. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that the special mushrooms were cheaper, and that some of them weren’t poisonous, just spicy. Frank wasn’t mad about hot foods, but he didn’t mind it, in moderation.

Deli was delighted. Her Mom made amazing stew with them. She did too.

“You know, for a people who are big on trials and perseverance, you aren’t big on spices?”

“Oh come on.” She told him, shaking her head at him in disappointment. “The whole damn world’s trying to kill us every winter. A warrior has to have some safety, somewhere. If our food and drink started trying to kill us too, we’d all go mad. It’s the most important job for a firekeeper: keep the fire going, and the food pleasant.”

“So cooks are important, as firekeepers go?” he asked, dubiously.

“Among the most, yes.” Seeing his disbelief, she added: “Who do you think packs the pantry and plans meals for the Winter? I hunt them, not count them.” She told him frankly.

Which was just one of those things. Warriors managed the home budget in the Confederation. In coin. Firekeepers managed the food budget for the winter, apparently. “Good to know.”

“Point was” she said, “the kits good ore, but hard to shape. It will take a lot of work to make something of her, but if you’ve the time and patience, she might be worth the effort. With her chasing skirts, she’ll appreciate the leader that puts in that work all the more for it.”

“I never asked: is that a problem around here?”

“For some. There’s those that say it’s Sin, but that’s not the main Cult position.”

“Then what is?” He asked directly.

She weighed him, for a while.

“Ir-karlak left us a duty, to hold the mountains against the dead. Part of that, in my seeing, is that there needs to be another line to inherit when we’re dust ourselves. Any that aren’t contributing to that, are failing their ancestors. Or so some say.”

He thought about asking her if she was among them, but refrained.

“The Cult says: children are what matter, and there are more than enough of those in the Cult Schools. If a woman or a man is in good standing, and willing to take a child in, it does not matter if it is of their blood or not.”

She grimaced, a bit. “It’s not quite the same, for both. A man? A man is easy to replace. One man can beget many children. The expectation on a woman, to deliver, to birth, is greater. Even warriors. Some say that until one is a parent, woman or man, they aren’t fully one of our people, not truly.”

She waved her hand, as if to push it away. “There’s no rush. With Body two, they’ll only start pushing when you’re thirty. And with three or four? Later still.”

Right. Labour was safe with Body two, or mostly safe. Which included late births.

“But it’s expected.” He asked to confirm.

“Aye. Not fair that, but it isn’t a fair world, is it?” She shrugged. "We all have our burdens."

“So what happens?”

“Depends on the woman. Some adopt, and that’s usually enough. Others don’t, but take up with sole parents to fill in for a passed mother, which is the same for all that matters. Then there’s the service a bed warmer can give…

***

Frank wasn’t sure how he felt about that last one. In a world without artificial insemination, how would a woman conceive, if she was lesbian? Well apparently, they’d taken the drunken accident to a professional service. The two women would go in to a bedding house, in one of the big cities. Ask for joint service, of the fatherly kind. That much was already on sale, in most of them, for any woman that wanted it.

The hitch came when they were alone. Deadbeat only knew from salacious rumours, she’d never stood for someone, that way. But supposedly, the mother to be would take some very special mushrooms to help her sleep. She’d wake after the deed, already washed and dressed by her lover. As a solution, it had its problems, but it was one within their limitations. One that was freely available, if at a price, and such a visit would remove much of the stigma against the pairing.

At least in the Confederation.

It still didn’t feel quite right to him. At all. Where was the damn line? If a woman came in willing, because she wanted a child herself, that was one thing. Then it was a service, among adults, where everyone understood what was going on. Almost like going to the doctor and finding a donor.

But if she only did it because her culture and society was pressuring her… it got ugly and problematic, quick. And that’s before her partner was put in the mix and her feelings on all that figured into it.

Deadbeat told him that if he was looking for some that hated them on principle, he should travel further east and south. The nomad clans of the grasslands hated same sex couples with a passion. Or at least, the dominant Cult among them did. To them, it was a sign of Sin, reason enough for damnation and execution.

"It's a big world. Assholes that excuse their hate with religion really aren't unique, are they? Even across worlds."

But what really worried him? That to exist as such a Cult, the gods or god they worshiped, had to be silent on the issue.

***

As the evening wore on, Katri came up. It must be repeated: Deadbeat was observant.

“Lay off it, hero. She neither needs, nor wants your aid.”

Frank bit his tongue on the first reply. “Would you care to elaborate?” He asked her, flatly.

She snorted. “Look at you, getting all ruffled. You think Katri would have ever become the Windblown if something like this could stop her?” She dismissed it with another snort.

“This’ll be the third time she’s been in this hole that I know of, and I’ve only been a hunter for fifteen years. She’ll dig her way out of it in a month or two. Old Deathless might have a contract with the Priest, but he doesn’t get to come between a God and their faithful. If Katri can pay for curse removal, he doesn’t get to deny her.”

She shook her head, in disappointment. “I’ve been hearing from all the muscle heads how cheap she is, but I suspect she’s made a deal with the Priest, who made a deal with the Captain. To refund the costs of her service directly for the curse removal.”

“I thought it wasn’t a curse?” Frank asked.

“Being Demonspawn isn’t a curse, except for living it, no. But Katri wouldn’t have fallen the way she did, not on her own, not in so short a time. But with Demons? They probably took her to some ready ritual site, and cursed her down to her bones, until she cooperated.”

“So when she gets them off…” Frank trailed off.

“She’ll be back among us. The greed and the foolishness is another matter.”

“What?”

“Deathless and his were guards of this place, and she was stolen on their watch. The Caravan Master negotiated and paid for that privilege, for all of us. What we’re all paying is at a reduced rate, to be behind their walls. Only our share of it.” She told him plainly.

“The greedy fool decided not to charge her for the rescue. Couldn’t do that with all the promises he’d made. But once he knew of her affliction, he decided to start charging her food, housing and protection like she was one of his firekeepers, and same for the wages. Not a guest and of the caravan. That will prolong her work by months and make her one of theirs in truth, when the snows melt and we move on. She can’t be happy about that, but has little choice except to swallow it.”

Frank considered that, unsure if he understood. “So wait, it’s not the service you have an issue with…”

“It’s the payment for it. She’s done it before, and she’ll do it again. Any man or woman makes that choice for themselves, if they’re willing to serve as firekeeper, or not. From there, to each according to their Skills and talents. She’s a Lust demonspawn, of course she’d be placed in a bedhouse. She has the Skills to back it.”

Frank flushed himself. “Yes. Yes she does.”

“Had a go, did you?” She asked, coyly.

“I wasn’t sure if I should refuse.”

“Well, I hope you paid for it. I don’t think you’re covered. Watchmen, merchants and servants aren’t.”

He wondered about that. “Are the patrol parties?”

She nodded. “A few of mine have paid her a visit. It’s cheap fun, since another is paying for it.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to let her go? Doesn’t pay her a fair price?”

Deadbeat looked at him like he was being stupid.

“As bait for demons?” He added, because it was obvious to him, so it should be obvious to her.

“You don’t know, do you?” She asked laconically.

“For one, if he’s a cheat, to cheat her out of the worth of her labour, he’ll do it to others too, and everyone knows it. He’s not fool enough to get a reputation as a skinflint over one Demonspawn. For another, Katri the Windblown is the granddaughter of Ilias the Brown. A warlock of some renown, from out west. If she wanted it, we’d all be swimming in demons.”

Her face was deathly serious.

“Deathless might be greedy, but even he isn’t stupid enough to keep her. Delay, sure.” She waved her head.

“But if he tries to keep her, she’ll become a Warlock just to burn his Reclamation to the ground long before next winter strands her here again. You have no idea how many demons are still out there, Frank. Keeping away from the town while we’re here, because it’s not worth the risk of going back to hell. It’s to our fortune they’re cowards who fear and fight each other as much as us. If they all swarmed us at once, the barricades would go up like kindling.”

She smiled at him reassuringly. “Deal with your own problems Frank. Katri can take care of herself. Even if someone is that big a fool, we’ll be bringing word of everything here to the Landkarls in the Spring, and they’ll send someone over to check on the man. Make sure he won’t waste their gold. Long before things should get bad.”

She stabbed a finger into his chest. “So watch your own party, and your own recovery.”

“And you?” He asked, aware she wasn’t wearing a skirt anymore.

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’ll watch myself. Still not sure how I feel about you visiting a bedwarmer, instead of waiting on me. But it wasn’t the greatest compliment to pay a woman, Frank.” She told him point blank.

Frank didn’t wince, but that one did land. Trouble was, in the moment, he’d wanted sex, not a relationship. Not after what Deli threw on him. He’d just wanted to relax, get some relief. And like in the Academy, he’d gone after his own vice, as a way to deal with the pressures of the responsibilities thrust on him.

He was aware of it, of it being a vice, a failing. But being aware of a failing didn’t magically make it better.

“I’ve… dealt with low Will the same for a long time now. Some drink, some gamble, some brawl…” he admitted.

“And you fuck. Is that all I am to you Frank? A good fuck?”

“I’m… not sure. I don’t want you to be? Just that, I mean. I’m sure you are excellent in bed.”

She snorted. “Well, you would know, if you’d waited.” She fluttered her eyes at him.

“I’m not one to rush into a relationship Deadbeat. Empire plots, and all.” He admitted. Trust didn’t come as easy to him, as it once did.

Her eyes softened, just a little. But she still shook her head a final time. “Till next time, Frank.” she told him, raising her cup.

He sighed, but returned the gesture. “Till next time, Deadbeat. Thanks for the news. I owe you one.”

They clicked cups, and drank some mead. She got up, and left the table, returning to her own party.

As she did, she glanced back and told him: ” If you want to pay me back, get a Name. A worthy one, Frank. You’re overdue.”

He wasn’t sure if it was advice, challenge, or condition. For all his Skill with people, what went on in most female heads remained a mystery.

“Then again, that’s true for most men too. Or there’d be less videos that would make anyone ask: ‘What the hell was he thinking.’ “

Usually, he wasn’t. His dick was doing the thinking for him.

Frank couldn’t understand why so many men did such stupid shit, just to impress a woman. Not when there were plenty of women that didn’t need that kind of stupidity, to consider him for their affections.

“And I’m hardly a catch. Or at least, I wasn’t one.”

All this was reminding him a little too much of the Empire. Plots, abuses, all of it. He had a thought that if Deadbeat knew, Deathless might as well. So Katri being taken might not be an accident.

…

Frank wanted to go kill something.

If the girl was qualified, he might be able to.

“Woman. Must remember to call her young woman at worst. Or the way she is, she’ll throw a snit over it.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Actually…”

***

When Deli came back, the grin on his face was positively mischievous.

“I hope that’s not for me?” Deli asked.

“No. Let me tell you about a visit we’ve had. I’ve been approached by a firekeeper caring for a young hunter coming into her own. She’s Lilijah of no Name, and he asked if…”