KNITE:
Funny thing, opposites. Pain and pleasure; hope and fear; heat and lack thereof. Two sides of the same coin, as they say. The question is, what would one look like without the other? Long ago, before the bitter moment that marked my greatest triumph, I’d met a Fiora in a tavern on my way to war with Golodan. Epicure was his name, of House Silas. I’d lost a degree of my capacity for pain by then, though the true death of my agony would come much later. Upon my raising the topic, he said, “Without knowing both, you cannot know either. If you cannot feel pain, you cannot, by extension, feel pleasure.” I cut off his head and thanked his corpse for proving my point. I cut off a few more when their owners took offense. And then I kept cutting. The spree of deaths only ceased when Silas himself came to stop me from culling his herd. That was the first time any of his godlings had heard Silas beg, and it was for me to leave his island in peace. I did, but only after I hung Epicure's head off the city gate and made my brother vow to keep it there until nature took it down. He and Grono didn’t speak for a decade once he’d heard of his capitulation. I was rather proud of that. Those fools are insufferable separately. Together?
All that is to say that I am feared. Or, more accurately, I was feared. For my strength. For my brutality. And for my casual use of both. Now? Now, a Named dared to spit at me. Sephoni, my prisoner, shackled, half-naked, and surrounded, spat, and the glob of her insult slid down my face.
“Brave one, isn't she?” Lira said. She sat on her throne, regally dressed in shades of blue, a recently rehabilitated Danar by her side. “Would you like me to break her?”
“No,” I said, standing over the prisoner as her body curled in on itself at the foot of the dais. Helena had dealt her a vicious kick. I doubt she’d done it on my account.
“I’ll die before I break,” Sephoni said through gritted teeth.
I crouched down and snapped a Zephyr barrier around Sephoni's mouth to spare me from having to dodge her blood-speckled spit. “You’ll break, or you’ll live for death until you break. The choice is yours.”
I reached for her. She tried to lean back and away from my grasp. I snatched a fistful of her hair, pulled her closer, and released the catch on the metal band around her neck.
Sephoni was quick. And smart. Smart enough not to divide her attention or to try for me. All her sensus went in search of salvation. She did not find any. I smothered her sensus with mine, trapping it in her body much as the collar had. Unlike the collar, I went further, pushing past her defenses and into her soul. She cried out then. No one understands the horror of a soul invasion better than a Tunneller. I left her soul almost as soon as I’d arrived, not wanting the scent of her fear to have the time to convince me to stay. This was the first step. A demonstration. A promise. From her wide, watery eyes, she understood the message well enough.
“Please,” Sephoni begged.
Lira laughed raucously. “Gods, that was quick.”
My head snapped up. “Quiet!”
There was an absence outside the city, a globe of darkness devoid of sensus. I could feel it pressing forward, hurtling towards us far above the cityscape. It felt… familiar, like scent-induced nostalgia of memories you can’t quite place or a half-remembered dream whose details remain just beyond your grasp.
“What’s wrong?” Helena asked.
I gazed up at the tall ceiling. “Visitors.”
They crashed through Golem-formed stone and reinforced rafters moments later, landing across the hall from where we stood near the throne. Cracks spread on the marble floor as the rubble of their hastily created entrance rained down around them. My mundane eyes saw five darkly hooded figures crouch there, unmarked by the speed and violence of their arrival. My soulsight, on the other hand, only saw a spherical void of nothingness that called to me with yearning, begging to be recognized.
The figure at the head of their group, tall and regal, rose to her feet and lowered her hood.
Nikal was as calm and collected as the first time I’d seen her, unfazed by the dangers of stepping into the heart of her sister’s seat of power.
“I will need an explanation as to why you’ve kidnapped my Named,” Nikal said, her piercing voice echoing off the walls.
I cocked my head to one side. “Interesting talent you have there.”
“Please be quiet,” she said. “I’ll get to you in due time.”
I smiled. “‘Well, since you asked so politely.”
“Thank you.” Nikal turned back to Lira, ignoring both me and my sarcasm. “So, Sister, tell me why you’ve kidnapped my Named, bound her in chains, and then dared to breach her soul. Then tell me why you’ve killed eleven others. And finally, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”
“Eleven!” Lira jumped to her feet, throwing me a wide-eyed look of incredulity. “You’ve killed eleven?”
I shrugged. “What of it?”
“It gives her the right of challenge,” Lira said between gritted teeth. “And if I lose, I lose everything. I had thought you more…”
“Calm yourself,” I told her. “If Nikal came here to challenge you, she’d have entered with swords and sensus, not questions.”
“She did enter with—”
“All bluster, of course, to better position her for negotiations,” I said, waving her concerns away. “Besides, it was I who’d done the deed, alone and on behalf of no one else but myself. I certainly did not act on your behalf. So sit, be quiet, and try to remember that you once had a spine.”
Nikal raised a hand. “Stand down, Lenineer.”
The smallest of the four figures behind Nikal jerked to a stop before she managed to take a second step. I couldn’t sense the stir of sensus precursing this Lenineer’s attack. The mass of sensus surrounding the group forced me to rely on mundane means alone. I would have to rectify that.
Nikal closed her eyes and took a deep breath, seeming to give herself the same order she gave her Named. “I understand why you are confident; we are but five compared to the six you felled alone and at once.” She opened her eyes and gave me a hard stare. “But you forget, I am no mere Named. And since you are the cause of my woes, I pose to you the same questions I’d asked of my dear sister.”
I smiled. “Before we continue our joust of polite threats…” I glanced behind me at Lira and nodded toward the exit. “Would you mind bringing us some beverages? Silas’ brew if you have any.”
Lira Hesitated. Helena offered a curt nod before taking the Tunneller by the elbow and escorting her from the hall, a meek Danar at their heels.
“So,” I said, turning back to the frowning Fiora. “To your first question, I was hoping Sephoni here could help me prepare for our meeting. Alas…”
“You thought I’d be more agreeable after you’d assaulted one of my Named?” she asked, a little heat creeping into her voice.
I shrugged. “Potential allies are more agreeable if the risk of discordance outweighs that of cooperation. And so I went about finding this risk, or, to be more precise, leverage. I’d say you’d approve of my intent if you were not its target, given that you think it better to attack than to defend.”
“How so?”
I looked up at the opening she and her Named had made upon entry. “Was it not you who’d sent your Named after me?”
“I sent them after a spy who had the gall to hide in my shadow.”
“My point exactly. And to be clear, going after my agent is much the same as going after me. I assume you understand, considering you’ve dressed your reason for being here in much the same clothing.”
“I see your point, but there are two glaring truths you’ve failed to address. Firstly, your agent, and by extension, you, moved against me first. But more importantly, you’ve failed at attaining this so-called leverage, which brings me to my last question. Tell me, what’s stopping me from killing you where you stand?”
I made a point of sweeping a distinctly unimpressed gaze over her and her Named. “You are welcome to try.”
Nikal slid her dark robes open. Thick leather armor embedded with matrix-etched plates of metal hugged her figure. Two long, thin swords hung by her sides, all the more menacing for their impression of fragility. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I am confident,” I said, smiling invitingly.
And then I moved.
A snap of my fingers drew in the mass of lightless sensus I’d thought only I could produce, dispursing the field of nothingness that had blocked my soulsight. A shocked Nikal threw herself between me and her Named. Lenineer didn’t much appreciate the gesture or simply found the prospect of my death more endearing. She dashed past her liege, expression twisted by rage, the tail and hood of her robe fluttering behind her. She was small. Unnaturally so. And fast. So fast as to cover half the expanse of the throneroom in a blink. A speed-focused Reaper, then.
I flickered forward to meet her charge. Barely hesitating, the little thing dashed left, weaved right, and then jumped up and back to the left, reversing the grip of her dagger as she aimed to stab my neck. A compentent maneuver. No wonder she’d been made a Named.
I grabbed her leading forearm, swung her over my shoulder to hammer onto the floor, the force digging her figure into the marble. Nikal was able to destroy stone reinforced by a Golem Leaf effortlessly, but no Named could hope to match that feat. Lenineer was lost to the waking world for a time, her eyes open but unseeing.
Something hit the back of my head. I jumped forward, flowing with the punch to lessen its impact and escape. Mid-air, I turned and rolled to my feet, hands raking the marble to bring me to a stop a few paces from the dais. With no follow-up attack heading my way, I stood and brushed the crumbled debris off my shoulders.
Odd, I thought. Nikal had forgone the delay of unsheathing one of her swords in her haste to save her injured Reaper. That was the second time she’d chosen to protect her subordinates over a chance at victory. Once was an accident. Twice was a pattern.
Nikal carefully extricated Lenineer and passed her limp form back to another of the Named.
“So, am I to understand you’ve rethought how you wish to proceed?” I asked.
“What makes you think—”
“Please, Nikal. Even if you were capable of killing me, which you aren’t, your Named will be casualties of our battle. We both know you aren't willing to pay that price.”
Helena returned carrying two crystal cups of purple wine. She seemed unperturbed by the scene she’d returned to, striding past our enemies without care. The hooded figures closed in around their injured ally, ready to attack at the slightest hint of ill-intent. Helena ignored them, coming to me and handing me one of the cups.
“My thanks.” I took a sip and handed the cup back. In turn, Helena offered me the other. Another sip. Godling etiquette dictated I taste whatever food or drink I offer guests from a cousin House. My adherence to such a custom did not escape Nikal.
Cup in hand, Helena stepped past me and leaned over Lira’s throne to activate one of the hall’s many matrixes. A table rose from the ground between our parties, the two narrow ends facing the throne and exit. Small mounds of stone bulged around the table, flowing and transmuting into chairs. Too proud not to flaunt the golden, bejeweled eyesore she called her throne, Lira’s great hall tripled as her banquet room and parlor. Other matrixes could, when needed, erect a variety of such things, tailored to purpose by use of the grand matrix embedded into the great hall by the Golem Leaf who’d built her entire estate. Even now, rubble slid across the floors and up the walls to reform what had been broken or displaced.
“Please.” I indicated the far end of the table. As was the custom, she waited until I, the host, took my seat before accepting my offer. That was significant; acknowledging me as a host declared me an equal.
Helena walked a dozen paces down the length of the table to place the cup of wine before the Lorail Fiora, all the while eyeing the Named, who stood a step or two behind her.
Nikal picked up the cup and rolled the thick liquid around before placing her nose to the rim and taking a whiff. “Silas’?”
“Delightful, isn't it?” I said.
Nikal shrugged dismissively. She was almost as good at hiding her emotions as Aki was. “I never much cared for wine. I’m not in the habit of muddying my greatest asset. However, yes, this does tickle my senses… and sensus.” She raised the cup to her lips and touched the wine with the tip of her tongue. “I’m beginning to see why my mother tolerates my uncle.”
“Yes.” I held my own cup up. “This may very well be his only redeeming quality.”
Purposefully setting down the wine, Nikal returned her attention to me. “So, who’s head have you come for?”
I smiled. “Most would ask who I am, not who I’m after.”
“I assume you are one of those cousins of mine who my uncles have hidden from my mother. If so, you are likely here to do their bidding—probably some act of petty vengeance as recompense for some petty slight. I am, however, surprised they managed to harness Knite’s darkness. I had thought only Lorail had accomplished the feat. More surprising is that it seems they were far more successful in the attempt.” Nikal smiled—a tinge of warmth against her otherwise glacial demeanor. “My mother will not be pleased to find she’s been outdone. Especially by Silas.”
“Silas?” I forced myself to look shocked. “You think me Silas’ spawn? I don’t think I’ve ever been so insulted.”
Nikal shook her head like I was a youngling caught in an elaborate maze of lies. And as she rebuked me with a look of condescension, she reached out for the wine and took a sip. “Some offhand insult can't hide the obvious.”
I returned the look twofold, being far more proficient at it, and shook my head in disappointment. “Whatever you think, it has no bearing on what we must discuss.”
Nikal’s eyes narrowed, and she took another sip. “You truly aren’t of House Silas? Bainan, then? No. You’re too indirect to be Bainan’s. He’d never accept such methods being employed in his name. Aunt Manar? No, not her, either. Grono’s then?”
I lost the smile I usually wear. The sudden absence silenced her. “I see your presumptions were the only things keeping you from asking after my identity. I prefer we return to more pertinent matters.”
Nikal shrugged, brushing her interest under the cold mask she wore. Then she took another sip. “If you wish.”
“Good,” I said. “Ramla is my target.” As good as she was at stilling her countenance, it was hard to miss her smirk. To celebrate the news, she took another sip.
“There is no love lost between Ramla and me,” Nikal admitted. “I’ll not object to her demise.”
“Good,” I said.
“But I have a few questions. When you say she’s your target…?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Nikal nodded. “What of the dead Reeve? Was she your doing?”
“Yes.”
“Why.”
“To gather… information.” A sliver of the truth.
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“No other reason.”
“And to meet my prey.” Another sliver.
She watched me for a moment, then took another sip. “Could your mission, whatever it may be, spill over into my purview?”
“Hard to say,” I said. “What would you consider your purview?”
“Anything that might affect my interests.”
“Ha,” I barked. “Dear Nikal, everything I’ve done and will do on this wretched island has or will affect your interests in one way or another.”
A slight pursing of her lips expressed the disappointment of her failed expedition. To ease her discontent, she took another sip. “Fair enough. What about my other sisters?”
“What about them?”
“Could they become collateral?”
“Possibly,” I said, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning.
“So it is because of Ramla you’ve aligned yourself with the rebels?”
To my side, I heard Pin ever so slightly slide out of its sheath. I reached back and covered Helena’s tense hand without looking away from Nikal. “How did you trace Helena?”
“Helena?”
I glanced over my shoulder at my nakedly belligerent guard. “I could find no matrix or foreign sensus on her.”
“Ah, I see. No, I think I shall keep that secret.”
“A namat then,” I said, confident I was right. If there was ever an unexplained matrix in effect, a namat was to blame. That or one infused with Meaning, but my souleyes could detect those.
“A commoner who can take out a squadron of slave guards, has somehow mastered three classifications, and has under his employ my mother’s adjudicator herself and Aminy Two-face, whose last public appearance marked the calamity known as ‘The Blood Sea,’” Nikal said, blundering the subtlety of her deflection. “Quite an interesting bunch you’ve collected.”
“And?” I saw no reason to deny her observations. She’d expended considerable resources to spy on Helena while I was away.
Nikal looked down and frowned at her empty cup. She’d seemingly finished the wine without noticing. Many unused to Silas’ brew fell prey to the insidious temptation it ignited.
I gave my half-full cup to Helena and gestured for her to take it to Nikal. The Fiora smiled and happily accepted the offering, barely waiting before she took another sip. One of her Named leaned in close and whispered in her ear but was quickly waved away.
“And is the rebel leader another one of your pawns?” NIkal asked.
“No,” I said, happy to be honest.
“But she is an ally?”
“Not as far as I’m aware.”
“Then are you working together?” Her eyes were glassy now, the hints of a slur blurring her words.
“After a fashion.”
“You know,” she said, the ice of her mask and the stiffness of her control cracking, “I never much cared for slavery.”
“Is that so,” I said.
“Yes,” Nikal answered. “The whole concept is a little repulsive, don’t you think?”
“Is that to say you’re not against me helping the rebels?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Good. Since we cannot find any major contentions that might hinder an agreement, shall we proceed?”
“Yes, let’s.” Nikal placed the second empty cup back on the table with a drunken flourish.
“Would you like another?”
“No,” she said. “No, I think I’ve had my fill.”
Drawing the agreement was a simple affair; we found there wasn’t much we disagreed on. She hated her mother almost as much as I did. Neither of us said it, but our utterances brushed past the topic, and both of us felt the implications. She hated her sisters. There, too, our estimations matched. And so, devising an agreement was not so complex or contentious. Signed in sensus and nestled into our souls, the treaty was binding. It wasn’t impossible to escape, but it would cost an injury neither of us could hope to heal promptly. Moreover, any party who breached the terms would inform the others by way of the promise erasing itself from their souls.
Nikal stood to leave, a hand planted on the raised table. “I think I best be on my way.”
“Without causing damage, if you please,” I said. “We’ve enough rumors about your rather… conspicuous arrival to contend with. Not to mention news of house Tarneel’s demise is still a subject of much discussion.”
“Are we to be seen?” Nikal asked. “Our peaceful departure might ease some of those rumors.”
I shook my head. “If any of your sisters suspect an alliance between you and Lira…”
Nikal nodded, then looked towards the shackled Sephoni lying by the throne.
Waving towards the Tunneller, I said, “Release her.”
Helena unlocked her manacles. Being who she was, she didn’t waste the chance to punish her one last time, yanking the Named to her feet and kicking her toward Nikal. The injured Sephoni stumbled forward and into the arms of one of her fellow Named.
“I trust you can see yourselves out?” I asked. Another custom. Escorting guests from the grounds was considered to be in poor taste.
Nikal spun to face the exit. “We’ll make do.”
Once the party had left, Helena turned to me. “She wasn’t inebriated.”
“I know.”
“Then why let her think you didn’t?”
“A game of sort. One of trickery.”
“I don’t understand.”
“At some point, when she feels it's time to betray me, she’ll count on being underestimated. She won't be.”
Helena lightly bit the second knuckle on her forefinger. “I still don’t understand. Given her reputation and the might she’d shown…”
“It isn't her strength she was looking to downplay; it's her cunning.”
***
I’ve always liked Aminy. I’d liked her ever since I’d first met her on the steps of Lorail’s capital church, a teary-eyed twelve-year-old pounding her tiny fists against her mother. It turned out that a Root she’d befriended on her frequent excursions about her mother’s estate was given to a Tripler as a reward for being accepted into The Academy. Aminy took offense. Her tantrum only worsened when she was told she’d get a new ‘toy’ in due time. As you might guess, we’d become fast friends.
“This is becoming tedious.” Aminy rolled the horse-drawn cart to a stop before Lira’s mansion. “Mayhap, we should join Roche for the other leg of the journey next time. Add some spice to the proceedings.”
“By spice, I take it you mean blood,” I said, coming down the steps to meet her.
“You always were quick to understand us,” she said. Then, in a different tune, less high-pitched and youthful, she spoke to herself, “You mean he’s always quick to understand you. He’s never had much of a grasp on my thoughts. And if you weren't so obvious, nor would he yours.”
“Oh, I think I know you well enough, Ami,” I said. She didn’t need to voice her thoughts for her other self to hear them; her words were meant for me. “You think the same things, just in different ways. I know this because I knew you before you were sisters.”
“See!” exclaimed the more childlike of Aminy’s souls. “He knows us.”
Aminy jumped down, nimble and sure-footed, a far cry from the uncoordinated mess she’d been the day and years after Lorail had cut her in two. The time since her rescue had treated her well—both of her. The gaunt expression from constant stress was better hidden; Ani, the more innocent of her two halves, became more alive and closer to the surface, and Ami, the protector, the rage-filled and vengeful stoic, softened to show glimpses of her worries and concerns.
“Our task and our suitability for it has Ami wondering about our liberation and why it came to be,” Ani explained. “My other half doesn’t quite believe you were there by happenstance.”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “But rest assured, our meeting was, as it appeared, a happy accident. I take it you’ve met the Easterner?”
“Captian Jule? Yes. Odd, that one. She’s like me, but… not. Two in one where we’re one in two. You don’t trust her?”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“We understand,” she said. “We don’t even trust us. Is that why you left Sanas with her.”
I nodded. “In part. How is she?”
“She thinks you left her there to keep an eye on the Easterner.”
“I rarely do things for one reason alone.”
“We know. We suspected you left her there because she’s too much like we used to be. It is always good to see her, to glimpse who we were before we became us. We find there’s a certain charm to those who are terminally righteous.”
“So she’s her usual self?” I asked.
“As far as we could tell.”
“Good,” I said. “Her time in The Bridge nearly took from her what Lorail took from you.”
“An unsevered soul?”
“The belief that virtue is worth any cost,” I corrected.
Aminy looked up behind me, searching the windows. For a moment, I saw the rebellious girl she’d been, kind despite all the cruelty she’d been taught to impart. Then the glint of madness returned, and, once more, she was who they’d made of her become.
“Roche told me of your actions here,” Aminy said—the strength of her inner thoughts and the unity it inspired flushed within her a harmony that blurred the separation of her soul. “He spoke quite fondly of the part he played in them.”
I laughed. “He would.”
“I know why you did it for him and Helena. Why did you do it to Sanas?”
“Twofold. For all our sakes, she needed to remember who I was, the same as the others. For her, she needed to remember herself. It was easier for her to see the horrors of her desires when she saw them reflected in my actions.”
Aminy took her pack from her cart and swung it over her shoulder.
“No,” I said. The fierceness of her glare was worthy of her legend. It bore into me with a relentless ferocity. If it were anyone else… “I know why you’ve come. And no, I will not allow it.”
“We are not Sanas. We know the horrors well. You need not protect us from—”
“Return your pack,” I said, the steel in my voice forged by certainty. “Since we are going in the same direction, we will travel together.”
Aminy gritted her teeth but let the matter drop. Friend or not, she hadn't the words or strength to convince me otherwise. Being a friend, one of my oldest, she recognized that truth.
“Am I to stay?” Helena asked from behind Aminy. Her teeth wrestled the meat off the leg bone of a large pheasant. Grease and oil and melted fat dripped from the hunk of meat. Somehow, not a drop made it onto her person.
“Is your task complete?” I asked. For two days, I’d watched the ruling members of Haloryarey answer Lira’s summons, arriving house by lesser house. The turbulence caused by house Tarneel’s demise, our storming of Lira’s mansion, and Nikal’s impromptu visit had given reason to Lira’s call. And so they came, swore their loyalty, and took their leave. Some of them were lying. Some of those lied about more than their loyalty, hiding their devotion to others. I marked them out and sent my assassin to weed the crop.
Helena smiled, mouth full of meat.
“Then you may come along,” I said.
We left as we were. Helena and I had all we needed—armor and weapons. All else we’d reap from the land or others. The only wait came from having to collect our horses from the stables. Qaniin was happy enough being released from captivity not to make hitching her to Aminy’s cart an ordeal. From the sighs of relief from the stable staff as they watched her leave, she’d made her stay as miserable for them as it was for her.
Half a day into our journey, Aminy sat silently brooding next to me on the cart. She guided the horses down a wide trail cutting between fields of wild grass. A high sun and the absence of clouds lit the vast sea of green on fire as pockets of flowers and a constant yet gentle breeze spread the floral scent around us, adding to the pleasant ambiance.
“For once, listen to Ani,” I said.
Aminy looked over at me. “And how do you know what we’re thinking?” Ami asked, a hint of hostility in her tone.
“You’re not the most subtle of creatures, Ami.”
“Creature? You mean to insult me.”
I laughed. “Insults are meant to unbalance or provoke their target. If that was my aim, I have far better insults at hand. No, Ami, we are all creatures of one kind or another, from so-called gods to the shortlived butterflies you see fluttering about this field.”
She nodded seriously. It’s hard to think of gods as anything but creatures when you’ve suffered their whims.
“And what is it you think we’re thinking?” Ami asked.
“She’s telling you to let go. You’re telling her you have nothing else to hold on to.”
Aminy laughed, though it was Ani’s soul vibrating with amusement. “I told you, Sister, Knite knows us.”
“How about a consolation,” I said.
“Whatever it is, it’ll pale in comparison.” Surprisingly, both agreed; when they spoke together, you’d think there was a third part to her soul.
“Not to replace your request, but to delay it,” I said.
“So, in time, you’ll allow me to…” Aminy licked her lips, imagining the act. The euphoria it would bring. The peace. Shadows of those sensations rippled across both halves of her soul. “We accept.”
“When you meet Roche, tell him the slave quota is yours.”
She frowned. “I was going to anyway.”
“But now he’ll listen,” I said. “Few things can get Roche to give up Halorian blood.”
Helena rode beside the cart on the gray stallion she’d chosen from among Lira’s herd. Her ingrained need to move without sound unconsciously masked the clang of horseshoes on stone. “I hope I’m not being left out.”
“Fear not, my dear Helena,” I said. “Our quarries are close at hand.”
***
We arrived at high noon. Helena and Aminy entered the recommended way, waiting by the gate with a line of caravans who’d journeyed to the Halorian capital for one reason or another. I, on the other hand, slinked over the wall. Merkusian had built them to keep out enemies. No one could convince his creations to see me as one.
We rendezvoused at the safe house. Aminy didn’t stay. She stowed away the cart and horses in a small side building meant for such things and left without a word. Unlike Roche, she wasn’t much for words when bloodlust took her over.
Roche sat in the common room, the dark and severe leather he wore ruined by his bright mood. Two cups lay on the small table beside his plain but comfortable chair. One was full of wine, the other half full of water.
“How goes it?” he greeted.
Helena took the seat across from Roche. “All in all, I dare say you had a better time. Still, I did end on a high.”
“How many?” Roche asked. He and Helena took pleasure in making a game of killing. When you’ve spent your formative years as playthings, you begin to think of games as a form of power.
“Only nine at first, but more once I had them singing names.” She smiled. “Oh, how sweetly they sang for me.”
I took my usual seat—one with all the exits in view. “You failed to mention that, Helena.” She shivered ever so slightly. No apology could please me more, so I continued. “The more rot you exorcised, the better. However, next time, ask, or you’ll risk darkening your soul past the edge of return.”
“Wait.” A hopeful Roche leaned forward, pointing a finger at himself. “Am I allowed to torture them?”
I smiled. It was hard to rebuke Roche whenever he was so dividedly innocent. “When your targets are set, do what you will. But remember, unlike Helena, your soul is not barred from me. Do not make me kill you, Roche. I like you too much to enjoy it.”
“So, what’s our next move?” Helena asked.
I nodded at the untouched cup beside Roche. He looked between me and the wine. “My resolve isn’t tested if I can’t resist the call of its scent or the pull of its sight,” he explained.
“Then don’t mind if I do.” My sensus brought the cup to my lips. The table, too, when my hand found nowhere to place the cup. I drained the wine. Sweet is better than bitter; this brew was decidedly not to my tastes. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and rolled my tongue around the inside of my mouth. If Roche wanted his resolve tested, I would do my part.
“It is time to turn our efforts to the criminals,” I said, placing the cup down as I eyed Roche. He was staring at the cup with longing. “While the captain and Aminy amass a decent population of slaves, there are fatter targets we can pursue.”
“You mean the merchants?” Helena asked.
“Yes.”
“May I join you?” Roche asked. “You didn’t say I’d be helping with the revolt. Please tell me you’ll let me join?”
Roche went to bed a happy man. Merchants were only one rung above Halorians in his estimations. They had been ever since one had sold him into slavery.
***
Aminy slipped into the safe house sometime between dusk and dawn. The heavy scent of blood did better at announcing her return than the creak of the door.
“We’re leaving,” I said.
She froze and squinted in my direction. “Knite? Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“The dark is an old friend of mine. He’s keeping me quiet company.”
She Painted a ball of light into being, the creation hovering over her palm. It had just about enough Meaning to convince the room it was real. Shadows danced on the walls as the light followed her to a seat. “I reckon he’ll be ours, too, once you’ve managed to startle us into an early grave.”
“We’re leaving,” I repeated.
“When you say ‘we’—”
“Not you. I need you here.” I leaned forward and angled my face so the light she’d conjured could better capture my expression; she needed to know the gravity of my next words. “And I need you not to disappoint me.”
Aminy sighed. “We suppose you’re not talking about the quota.”
“No, I’m not.”
***
We set out a little before dawn. Heavy rain forced hoods over the heads of passersby, pushing their gazes low and away from our faces. Roche Tunneled the two women standing guard at the gate into believing we were tricks of shadow and rain. Helena helped. Silence was her domain, and she’d wrapped us in a deathly sort. As we passed, we caught the rest of the squadron through the barred window of the guardhouse’s ground floor. They were oblivious to us. Four sat around a table spread with coins and games, arguing over the night's winnings. They didn’t deserve our efforts or skills.
With our plans for Halor set in place, we rode due southeast in the dark of early dawn.
That night, I brushed Qaniin down beside our camp. The rain had stopped, and her mane and coat could use the care.
Qaniin was not like the more commonly used Surgeon-carved horses used by merchants. Time had exposed the beast's heritage to me. She was a beast of nature and sensus. Outside the use of Arcanist Arts to extract or bestow talents and aspects, many considered mingling with an animal’s soul a defilement of one’s self. I never agreed. Still, roaming about a soul so foreign is not a pleasant experience, so the first I noticed of her heritage was a culmination of small acts distinct from those expected from an unevolved: the way she looked at me when I gave her a name, or hunched her shoulders when riding over unwelcome terrain or grazed only the most sensus-rich plants within her reach or cuddled her cheek to my chest in thanks as I ran a comb down her mane.
“Why?” Roche asked. He sat on a log he’d cut from a tree, a cut of meat held up by his wires sizzling over a fire. Recognizing our path, he knew where we were heading.
“To pick up Sanas,” I said.
“And then?” Helena leaned over Roche’s roast and cut a sliver from the well-cooked half. Roche tried to slap her hand away. She came away with the meat and nothing more. Or so she thought. A line of blood bloomed across the back of her hand.
“We go back,” I said.
“To the capital island or the capital city?” Helena asked, glaring at Roche.
“Both,” I said. “Lira’s records on the larger merchant houses suggest many of them are controlled by families in the capital island. A majority of them reside in the capital city.”
“But where to first?” Having eaten her stolen slice of meat, Helena resumed her craft—rare is it when she’s not adding to her collection of poisons.
“Later,” I said.
We reached the village of slaves soon after. Roche and Helena’s mounts collapsed at the edge of the clearing. Their blind eyes stared at nothing. Froth leaked from their mouths, unaided by their weak and shallow breathing. Surgeon enhancements and the healing of their consequences had expended the integrity of their flesh. Qaniin didn’t need my help in that regard—another sign of her heritage.
I climbed down my tired horse. She didn’t bristle in a huff like she usually did. Either my last threat was too recent to ignore, or she was too exhausted from the arduous journey to grumble her discontent.
The village hadn't changed much. A few new shacks had been erected, the Golem-erected farm at the edge of the property seemed a little larger, Jule’s dome of protections was a little more robust, and the slaves were marginally better dressed, but all in all, it was the same poor collection of shabby buildings and shabbier inhabitants. A thick cloud of hopeful desperation hung in the air, confined by Jule’s protection and only dissipated by the small pockets of relief exuding from those freed more recently. Sanas cut through the cloud, striding up to us in mud-caked boots and garb.
“Tell me you’ve come to take me from this hovel,” she said without greeting.
“Soon,” I told her, once again wishing to deal with her like I did Qaniin. “Take us to her.”
Captain Jule was in her office. She didn’t bother making a show of covering her nakedness. Instead, she flaunted her bare breasts and exposed crotch, leaning back in her chair with her arms spread and her legs splayed. If she thought her nudity would throw us, she was wrong three times over, each for different reasons.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.
I looked her over like a slaver might look over a slave. “When is your next trip to the capital island?”
“Why?”
“We’ll need passage there.”
She frowned. “We have an agreement.”
“We do,” I agreed.
“How if you go galavanting off on another one of your excursions?”
I returned her frown, mine deeper and more expressive. “You are getting dangerously close to accusing me of lying, Captain Jule. I hope that is not your intent.”
She sat up straighter, switching personas. If not for the darkness on her soul retreating, I’d not have known. “Apologies. I seek to understand, not to accuse.”
“A friend will bring you your slaves, freed in body and soul.”
“A Halorain?”
“Yes,” I said. The truth was my only option. No one who saw Aminy would think otherwise. “Worry not; she is as ardent an enemy of House Lorail as you are likely to find.”
“How long will you be away?”
“None of your concern.”
“It is if you wish me to take you to the capital.”
I sighed, knowing I’d have to concede in some way. I could’ve forced her, of course, but a wasted ally is a potential enemy. I had enough of those. “I cannot say. Our time away is founded on the difficulty and success of our venture.”
“Venture, you say,” she said.
I assessed her again, my gaze hovering over her more intimate features: her dark, oversized nipples, the faint curve of her narrow hips, the trimmed hair between her legs. Noticing my inspection, she pulled her robe from the back of her chair and wrapped it around herself, suddenly overcome with the need for modesty.
“Snowliar is the only port I have access to,” she said.
I smiled. “Snowliar is exactly where I want to go.”