They walked faster than before, adrenaline proving the superior of fatigue. A mile still yet remained, however, and Lichos knew it would take them time enough for Pyrhic to sink into the battleshock’s grasp.

“So you met Kaiosyni while you were a dula.” He began, conversation already leaving him uncomfortable.

Pyrhic turned to him, staring confusedly, but with a sharpness he’d not expected.

“Do you mind telling me how it was you got into that position in the first place?”

The woman hesitated for a moment, speaking slowly when she did.

“You understand this isn’t something I like to dwell on. To this day it carries a certain… edge to it.”

“If you don’t want to tell me then don’t.” Lichos answered hurriedly. “I’m just curious.”

“It’s fine.” The woman sighed. “You saved my life just now, and I sense you’re searching for some way to keep me from dwelling on what I just saw regardless. I’ll tell you.”

Lichos felt a sting at being seen through so easily, remaining silent to listen all the same. Pyrhic took some time before she began to speak, wrestling her tongue and breathing sharply.

“My father was not a poor man, at first. He worked as a clerk in one of Dagan’s factories, quite a gifted one too. For the first dozen years of my life, I lived well. But my mother’s health was always poor, and when she died it seemed she took no small amount of him with her.”

Pyrhic paused, and Lichos recognised the sight of painful memories burning. He listened intently, letting the woman press on in her own time.

“He took to drink, and soon he was drunk so often he was no more good as a clerk. What savings he’d managed soon spilled away into his bottles, and I realised he was at risk of starving. So I took to thievery, defrauding the wealthy, exchanging marks of credit. Using all the bookkeeping tricks I’d learned growing up.”

“You got caught.” Lichos guessed. Pyrhic grimaced.

“I got caught. House Balfor is one made of better merchants than I, and they soon realised what I was doing. They found me, arrested me and I was sentenced to live out the rest of my life as a dula. Sent off to some minor Household for no reason other than it being the nearest to my courtroom.

I spent two years in that wretched place before katoch Kaiosyni met me.

Lichos wasn’t sure what he could say. The anger foaming from his belly made the words for him.

“It’s not right.” He hissed, surprising even himself with the hate in his voice. “Fucking dulas and katochs, enslaving our own people. It’s not bloody right.”

Pyrhic’s face turned combative.

“Perhaps not, but it’s necessary. You’ve spent your life firing rifles and muskets made in Dagan’s factories, to this day they’re the Taikan Empire’s sole industrial advantage over the rest of the world. Dulas are necessary for such things to be economically viable. What free men would work them?”

“It’s still not right.” Lichos insisted. “You made a single mistake and spent your life as a slave because of it? Pit, you’ve got the brains to be a damned good merchant. You’ve got the brains to join a Household!”

“And yet.” Pyrhic answered. “I made a foolish choice. I’ll not complain because I faced the consequences of it.”

Realising they’d get nowhere in their conversation, Lichos held his tongue. Began thinking of what else he might say to distract the woman from herself. Pyrhic saved him the trouble.

“What of you?” She asked. “You’re a Wrathman. How did you end up in that position?”

Lichos should have expected the question, but he had no answer prepared. He decided to simply speak the truth.

“I was born in Wrath. My dad was a soldier, my mother was a whore. Don’t know either of their names. Grew up around the army, and like everyone in Wrath I was conscripted before I could even pronounce the word. I had twenty thousand hours of practice loading and shooting by the time I was fifteen, and I was better at it than most.”

He hesitated, feeling the sting of his memories as he delved deeper into them.

“Used to think that was why everyone hated me. It wasn’t until I was seventeen that I realised what I was, and not until eighteen that I figured out how to keep from blasting nihil out in all directions whenever I was agitated.”

A wince twisted the woman’s face at that.

“I’m sorry.” She said, Lichos only shrugged.

“I can’t complain. As soon as I figured out what I was, I figured out I had an advantage.

Gol is more magical than any other place in the world, even without arcstock crystals a magiphage can draw strength just from eating its plants or dirt. Some, at least. And before long I was brought into the Wrathmen. Not the Wrath men, I mean. The Wrathmen…”

He cursed at the terminology, then felt a grin sprout as Pyrhic laughed.

“You were inducted into the elites, from the ranks.” She said. Lichos nodded.

“Yes, that’s it. Fucking pit, whoever made those names should be shot. Anyway I fought as a Wrathmen for a while longer, and about four months ago I made sergeant. Not the most exciting story, I know.”

“Better than mine, I fear.” Pyrhic answered. “Though it might have been more interesting if you’d gone over a few of your more action filled moments.” She trailed off, seeming to gather her nerves before continuing. “...Can you tell me about that shot? The famous one.”

Lichos was almost surprised to hear a woman like Pyrhic asking about an incident like that, yet still he found some pride in the inquiry. It reassured him to know his finest hours could impress even those in such stations as hers.

“Some other time, maybe.” He shrugged. “I reckon I’m about done with stories for now, and you did say we’d be finding our next target through a big, busted open road.”

The woman followed his gesture. The cobbles ahead were hewn fathoms apart, light spilling inwards to reveal a hollow space beneath the road, a wound in the city’s skin as jagged and rough as any Lichos had seen marring men.

He wondered whether Danielz and Tamaias’ battle was responsible for the break. He could scarcely imagine what else might be to blame.

“Ladies first.” He said, dryly invoking the ritual he’d heard from so many Solifates. The woman merely glared at him.

“Bodyguards first.” She answered. Lichos grinned, swearing he saw a smile flicker on her face as he moved to take the lead.

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The dark embraced him like icy water, killing his good humour dead and coaxing adrenaline to ooze into his blood. He felt tempted to draw his snuff box and inhale an entire arcstock crystal, see just what the heavier duty specimens Kaiosyni had provided him could do.

He stifled the urge, satisfying himself by tightening the grip on his musket instead.

He had far more gunpowder than magic, and it had never failed to see him through before.

Footsteps soon grew loud and sourceless as they walked, concave walls casting every sound back at its origin with a disturbing clarity. The blackness grew at each step farther from the opening, and before long Lichos found himself without sight of the space a foot in front of him.

Finally he gave in, drawing his snuff box and allowing himself to indulge. Spicing his blood with just a pinch of miracle, then two more. His vision sharpened instantly, senses deepened, body strengthened.

And still the dark pervayed, enhanced vision barely piercing yards ahead. Again Lichos squeezed his musket, the strength of ten men pumping through his body, feeling like nothing at all.

It was only Pyrhic’s breathing at his back that assured him the woman still followed. There was some small comfort in that, even knowing she was unarmed and untrained. Human companionship making an irrational wall between him and the dark.

Another few minutes of walking, at least so far as Lichos’ hastened perception could guess, saw a new light emerge ahead of them. Faint at first, yet strengthening quickly. Warm and soft, enticing as sin. Their pace increased.

Just as they reached the glow, finding a small room furnished cheaply and illuminated by gas lanterns, Lichos heard a familiar snapping, felt something press against his temple.

He froze, not looking at the man stood by his side. Suddenly aware of little, save the gun barrel kissing his skin.

“If you’re thinking of pulling that trigger, I’d advise against it.” He said, voice left strangled by his suddenly drying throat. “It’ll bring down a shitstorm for the ages on you, and we’re only here to ask a few questions.”

There was a bloated pause, passing slow as Lichos heard his own heart drum painfully. Finally the man’s voice rang out.

“A Taik. I was expecting Unixians.”

Seeing a chance, and feeling an impossible weight leave his shoulders at finally finding one he could speak to, Lichos pressed on.

“I’m not from around here, as you can probably tell. Working for Lavastro Kaiosyni. We just want to ask you a couple of questions. If you answer them then we’ll be on our way.”

Another pause, another half dozen agonising beats of Lichos’ heart. Then, finally, the gunner spoke once more.

“You’re a pariah.” He hissed, barrel grinding harder against Lichos’ ear. “A magic eater. An abomination. I know all about your kind, monster. And I know that you don’t get sent to meet mystics for conversation.”

Anger mingled with fear in Lichos’ gut, and his mind moved in a whir. He could think of nothing that might dissuade the man, there was a finality to his aggression that told Lichos he had moments at best.

But even so he took note of how slow the man’s words had seemed, how sluggishly he’d crawled across every syllable. How accelerated his own senses had become.

He recognised the chance. Moving as fast as he was able.

Twisting and ducking at once, Lichos whipped his head away from the barrel of the gun and aimed to draw himself from its path even as his hand lurched upwards.

An open palm struck the metal hard, wrenching it aside just as the flint struck steel and spat embers. In the cramped, tight confines of the tunnel, the gunshot was like a dying God’s scream.

All was still. For a few wretched moments, Lichos could no more bring himself to move than piss himself at will. He ran an eye along his own body, then pressed hands to it in a check for any sparks of pain or discontent to mark gunshot wounds. Finding none, he exhaled relief.

He’d known men to die from richocheting bullets before, and it took a moron to fire one in such conditions regardless. Eying the shooter, Lichos felt anger boil up to fill the gap his evaporating fear had left.

The Manamicist opened his mouth to speak, perhaps meaning to beg or persuade. Perhaps to imbue his tongue with magic and twist Lichos’ will against him.

He never got to utter a word, for Lichos moved faster than his lips.

Burying a fist in his gut and barely remembering to restrain himself at the last moment, still carrying force enough to fold the man and leave him trembling on his knees.

While the mystic lay paralysed by pain and struggling lungs, Lichos glanced toward Pyrhic. Found the woman shaken, yet resolute. Felt a pang of pity even as he marvelled at her strength.

“We found him.” Lichos noted. “Or at least I think we have. If this is the wrong bloody bastard again I’m going to rip his ears off.”

“No.” The Taik answered, moving in closer. “This man fits the descriptions I’ve gotten of Marxcus Frois. Well done soldier.”

The descriptions must have been uncharitable, for Lichos found himself unimpressed by their quarry. Spot-speckled skin, thinning hair and a bulbous face made red and rashed, he would have seemed an adolescent, were it not the withered lines marking his features. Somehow the reptillian chill behind his brown eyes dispelled any humour that might have come from the visage.

Lichos said nothing more as Pyrhic began speaking to the Manamicist, focusing on the physical rather than mental. Watching for any movement that could turn violent with an unerring concentration.

“We know who you are, Frois. And we know who you think we are, but I assure you my compatriot was speaking the truth. Neither of us is here to hurt you. We merely want answers regarding an investigation we’re running.”

The man groaned before he spoke, and Lichos feared he’d struck him too hard after all. When Frois’ voice rang out, it was a fragile and britte thing, weak enough that a child could have spoken over it.

“And you’ll leave me alone if I cooperate?” He gasped. “Leave me alone, and keep my location to yourself?”

“We will.”

Conflict raged on the man’s face, unguarded as his pained rictus ran amok. Lichos snorted another pinch from his snuffbox while he waited for it to end, aware that his strength was beginning to wane.

“Very well then.” The Manamicist sighed. Defeated. “What is it that you wish to know?”

Pyrhic wasted no more time.

“There was an incident some weeks prior, a battle seen by many to rage between Bob Danielz and Reginald Tamais. One that resulted in no small amount of death. Currently, it is suspected that the event was… altered. Not entirely illusory, but twisted in the beholding eyes to give a certain impression of things.”

“And you want to know if I’m responsible for the confusion.” Finished the panting man, breath regained.

She nodded. The man sighed, straightening up slowly as he spoke.

“I’m not, but I know someone who may be. Evelar Flecke.”

He paused, as if expecting the name to mean something, then quickly continued.

“She is, or was, my apprentice. A talented girl, almost as good with Manamis as me, and lucky enough to be a bimage at that. She left a few weeks ago to pursue an offer that I turned down. The same offer, in fact, that has me stashed away inside this damned sewer like a damned rat.”

“Who was the offer from?” Pyrhic pressed. The man sneered.

“Wilhelm’s group. Gangers, particularly organised and bloodthirsty ones. Before you ask, I’ve no idea what the job would have been. All I know is they offered me enough money that I’d likely have been on the run my entire life if I’d accepted. I suppose Evelar will be, now.”

Pyrhic nodded absently, eyes glazing as she entered her own mind. She said nothing for some time before continuing quietly.

“Can you tell us where we’ll find Wilhelm’s group?”

The man accounted his directions with a haste that belied his discontent, and they were soon moving back through the corridor with answers aplenty.

Lichos spoke only when they had exited the great tunnels, not wanting their smooth walls to carry his words back to the mystic.

“So we’re heading for that Willhelm group next, I take it.”

“We are not.” Pyrhic answered. “They’re far enough that we’d be reaching them in the dead of the night, and I’d sooner take our time to consolidate and resupply. Besides, we ought to report back to koros Kaiosyni regardless. She may have wrung yet more information from her remaining spies in our absence, and it would be beneficial to share what we’ve learned with her.”

Lichos thought about her reasoning for a moment.

“I reckon speed is our best tool. We’ll be exhausted if we arrive in the dead of the night, sure, but we’ll be expected if we wait the extra day. I say we find a tavern, stay the night to recuperate and then head off to these gangers by morning. That’d give them barely twelve hours to listen out for word of our travels.”

“Twelve hours could still be enough.” The woman noted.

“It could.” Lichos agreed. “But I’d not face these bastards exhausted and drained. Fact is I’d rather not face them at all, though I sense that isn’t an option here.”

“Depending on what we learn from Koros Kaiosyni, it might be.”

It didn’t take much more consideration for Lichos to be swayed, by that.