As they landed on the Burned Roc, Orenda noted that it was completely different than being on the Recovery. She assumed that Gareth had done something to it to fight back the danger of the sea, to fight past the magic that pressed upon her, that had to press upon him. She wondered if it had anything to do with the appearance. She didn’t think the wood was actually as burned as it appeared, because that would mean it wasn’t seaworthy, wouldn’t it? A ship so badly burned would sink.

“Captain!” the oldest human man Orenda had ever seen came toddling up to them with the dragon on his shoulder. He wore a tattered set of blue mage robes, and his features were so distorted by age that Orenda could not tell what they had originally looked like. He wore a long beard and mustache, yardstick straight and stretching to his waist. The silver matched his long hair that flowed out behind him, and in his gnarled hands he clutched a beautiful silver staff that had also seen better days, tarnished with time and use, and inset with blue crystals.

“Oh my,” he said, and came so close to Orenda that for a moment she was afraid he was going to kiss her, but he was adjusting his spectacles and seemed to be studying her face, “It’s her, isn’t it? It really is Orenda. I’m sorry, child, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Let me get a good look at you.”

“It is,” the dragon said, and he opened his wings and closed the distance to alight on Orenda’s shoulder, “I would know her anywhere. Orenda, I wanted to tell you, that day at the mage academy. But it wasn’t safe. And it wasn’t my story to tell. Gary’s been so kind to me, I couldn’t… I couldn’t go against him.”

“You brought me the money,” Orenda told him.

“We wanted you to learn,” Draco explained, “You aren’t a charity case, Orenda. Your family has been taking care of you.”

“My family?” Orenda narrowed her eyes, “I haven’t got any family. And… how is it that you can speak like this? Sea dragons can only mimic.”

“Not true!”

Orenda jerked her eyes to the sound of a voice, and saw something that would, if she had been in her right state of mind and not blinded by her rage for Gareth, haunt her nightmares.

The thing had, once, perhaps, been a human man. But now it was a tattered mockery of humanity, rotted flesh attached to yellow bones sticking out of a set of normal clothes as if it had every right in the world to be alive and moving. The muscles under the decayed flesh moved with it as it leaned on the mop it was holding, and its eyes floated in lidless sockets to meet hers.

“We speak!” The thing said, “We speak! We have nothing to say! Not to you! To us! We speak to us!”

“It’s a long story,” Draco said. “We’ll tell you sometime.”

“Captain,” Orenda turned again to see a dwarven man tying a rope to the railing of the ship. She followed the rope and saw Bella at the other end, securing it to the Recovery. “They’ve seen your face.”

“I’m going to let them live,” Gareth said softly, “they kept her alive.”

“You hit him with your hand,” the dwarf said.

“I was overcome,” Gareth moved each of his fingers, and Orenda saw that they moved with great difficulty, as if he had been overcome with arthritis, and he may have, given how old he had to be. His face didn’t exactly show it, because his flesh stretched tight around the scar.

“Orenda,” he turned back to look at her, “This is… are… my friends. This is Falsie,” he motioned to the dwarven man, “That is, we call him that, we used to call him ‘Falsebeard’ at his request, and I suppose we all got lazy. He’s a genius with clockwork. He made the canon.” He motioned to a large metal object, “And the gun,” he motioned to the thing on his hip that Orenda had seen on his signature, on the graffiti on the wall, and the flag above them.

“Nice to see ya again,” the dwarf shook her hand, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” Orenda said, “I’m afraid not.”

“This is Imperius,” Gareth continued, motioning to the old man, “He is, as far as I know, still the greatest water mage on the sea, though time has taken a toll on him. He’s also a genius- I like to surround myself with smart people, because idiocy runs in my family.”

“He is a genius,” Draco said proudly, “though I did warn him against dabbling in necromancy. It’s said to rot the mind, to pollute the soul. But he… just wasn’t going to let me die.” He flew from Orenda’s shoulder back to Impy and snuggled into his hair.

“This is Draco,” Gareth said, “Impy’s husband. He was an accomplished mage in his own right. There was… an unfortunate accident, during the war. I’m afraid Impy had to use whatever was at hand. We thought we could switch them back, at some point, but…”

He nodded to the walking corpse.

“Oh,” Orenda said, putting the pieces together.

“Well,” Gareth said, “Let’s not stand around gawking at Orenda like she’s some sort of spectacle. I would like a drink. We’re going to my sitting room, and I wouldn’t like to be disturbed.”

“Too late for that, Captain,” Draco laughed and Gareth cracked a smile.

“Come along, Orenda,” he said, leading her to a door that she suspected went below deck. She followed him and took the set of stairs behind him. It opened into a kitchen, like it had on the Recovery, and Orenda thought that perhaps ships were all similar on the inside. Gareth led her on down the hall and opened another door.

The inside was crowded, but much better laid out than Tolith’s room. It looked like an office, with a table that seemed to serve as a desk, given the books and papers laid out on it. A map of the world was hung along one wall over a bench, below it hung a poster that seemed to chart out the phases of the moons, and bookshelves with doors that closed over them lined it on either side. Cabinets lined most of the walls, but there were spaces open for artwork and one dressing mirror. He took off his jacket and slung it over the back of a chair at the table, set the mask down gently with it, took off his hat and set it on top of it.

He was making himself at home, and Orenda watched him in silence as he opened one of the cabinets, took out a cloudy glass bottle and two glasses, and glared down at his hand. He adjusted the grip, moving the fingers individually with the other hand to make it tighter, and set everything out on the table. He lifted the bottle to open it, but it slipped from his grip and he had to fight to catch it.

“Goddamn it,” he said and set it back down. “Sorry, I’ve… it’s partially a bout of nerves. My hands are shaking. I didn’t… I didn’t expect to see you. I can’t do it one-handed with my hands shaking. Can you pour that, please?”

“Sure,” Orenda said as she popped the top of the bottle. “What is it?”

“Rum,” Gareth explained, peeling off his gloves.

His right hand was exactly what she had expected, but his left… his left was like nothing she had ever seen before. He peeled off the glove to reveal a second, smaller and tighter fitting glove underneath that ran up under his shirt, and as she watched he rolled up his sleeve and peeled it away as well. As the tight fabric peeled away, Orenda saw that his hand was not made of flesh and bone and blood- it was made of a well worn metal, of clockwork gears that turned and spun as he tried to touch each of his fingers to his thumb, but some of them were stuck at the knuckles, exactly where it would have connected with Tolith’s cheekbone. The gears there weren’t turning properly, as if he had bent some of the cogs when he had smacked him.

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“Well fuck,” Gareth said, and Orenda watched him undo his shirt with his good hand, saw the medallion standing out there against his chest, saw the symbol upon it, and knew it was exactly like hers. A strap connected to Gareth’s elbow, and he undid it, laid his hand on the table, and pulled away. The hand stayed where it was, along with what looked to be about half a forearm all inset with fire crystals, and the leather straps she had seen attached at the elbow.

Gareth picked it up and left the room. She could hear him calling down the hall.

“Falsie!” He called as she poured the two glasses full, “It’s the knuckles! Can you fix it?”

“Gary, I swear to god!” came the voice of the dwarf, “I told you to be careful with the damn thing. What’d you do?”

Orenda could not hear the rest of the conversation, as Gareth had apparently gone to find him and have it in person rather than screaming through the ship, so she busied herself with looking around the room. The papers lining the desk were letters, apparently, and she read over the one on top, which seemed to begin on the second page.

still think about him all the time. I’m not worried. They wouldn’t want me to be worried. It’s just that Lappy is acting so strange. Sharon wants us to take him to a healer, but what the hell are they going to do for a human? They’ll treat him like obsolete farm equipment that needs to be destroyed if it can’t work. You know how they are.

Sometimes, I think I should send the kids out. I need to do something with my son. He’s miserable here. Would he be happier in the settlements? In the north? Or on the fire continent? Could he make something of himself there? He thinks he’s wasting his life here.

I’m not worried.

Lori is still the inspector in this area, and that means something. He likes me. He’s always liked me, even when his father was alive. But I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t know how long I can keep flirting my way out of real inspections. And… Mary has… offered to… it broke my heart, Gary. She’s not going to do that. My kids aren’t going to do that. I didn’t spend half my life in a cage so my children could live that same life. She’s a Brigaddon. She’s not a slave.

I don’t have a lot to report in this letter, but please, please, for the love of fuck, let me know if you hear anything from Lapus. I need an elf to put in an appearance. Lori can’t keep this charade going forever. Shit is going down in the capital. I’ve got it on good authority that Xandra’s sent an expedition out to the frozen north. Why would she do that? They can’t possibly know, can they? We’re the only ones who know what’s up there.

Unless the Kabaal survived. I saw Shabeel die, but Lapus took me out of there so fast I don’t know what happened to the rest of them. But they couldn’t have survived, could they? Bella had to live in that hell longer than I did, so she’d know more about how resilient they are.

I miss Ronnie and Soko so much sometimes, Gary. When I’m with the kids, I often think… I think about how different our lives could have been if it had worked, you know? I’ve never been in love like that. I don’t think I ever will again. They… they really treated me… they thought I was a person, not a thing. I’ve lived most of my life being this pretty little thing. I’m like the first piece of bread when you cut a loaf. Everyone touches me, but nobody wants me.

I really wish that you would come and see me. You look so much like him. Is that pathetic? I know that’s pathetic. Please, Gary, please just come and see me. I can hide you. No one has to know. It’s getting to be that time of year again and I miss them so much my heart aches. You look so much like him. I don’t mind the scar. Please, it’ll be good for both of us. Just come down to the burrow and let me teach you how to bunny hop-

“Those are private,” Gareth said, and Orenda looked up at him. “I don’t mind you going through my things, but that’s… it may not be something he wants other people to see.”

He only had one hand now, and it made gathering up the papers difficult for him. Orenda sipped the rum and felt it burn down her throat as she watched him.

“I have that same medallion,” She remarked.

“Yes,” he said, “And it was hell to get it. I had to go back and…” His eyes darted around the room, then he closed them and said, “You should have had it. It was a gift from my mother. She would have loved you, I think. I’m glad you have her tiara. I don’t know if I want to know where you got it.”

“So you are a Firefist,” she said.

“I was,” he said, and walked to the mirror. When he spoke again, it was to himself, and it put Orenda right off. “She’s here, Ronnie. She’s here and she looks so much like mom. It’s strange, isn’t it? Everyone said we looked more like dad but… but it was there, inside us. Inside you, I suspect. You were the prodigy. There was probably nothing of her in me.” He laughed and said, “Ronnie I… I can’t do…” he started crying and leaning against the mirror, “I’m nothing! I never was anything! I wasn’t even supposed to exist! I… I was a parasite! A parasite needs a host!”

He slammed his fist into the mirror and Orenda was afraid he was going to break it, so she asked a rather obvious question to get him away from it, because she felt none of them needed the bad luck.

“Have you always been mad, then?” She asked, “Or did you go mad?”

“Oh,” he blinked the tears from his eyes and turned to look at her, “I was always a little mad, I suppose, but… I went much more mad. And I won’t be told I can’t. This is my maddness, Orenda. I’ve earned it!”

“Do you often talk to yourself?” She asked.

“Talk to myself,” he considered as if he hadn’t realized that was what he had been doing. He turned back to the mirror and looked into it. “It is… it always will be. It isn’t his face. It never will be. It isn’t… we… it isn’t us. But it’s me. And now it always will be, and we aren’t… it’s not supposed to… we’re supposed to match!” He stared at his reflection and said, “If we did, I could… mirrors are special, Orenda. Mirrors are… are supposed to… conduits. Impy is a necromancer but it’s… I get in the way. I always got in the way. We’re the same and it only pulls to me, as if he’s trying to conjure me. But we’re not the same, not anymore, not ever again. This isn’t our face! So I… I am just… just talking to myself.”

“I don’t think I should drink too much of this,” Orenda said, “It’s rather strong.”

“You filled those full, didn’t you?” He asked. He picked up the glass and much of the rum sloshed out with the shaking of his hand.

“You’re not my father?” Orenda asked.

“No,” he said, “I would never…”

“Is the man in the mirror my father?” Orenda asked.

“Not anymore,” Gareth said and took a long drink. He sat the empty glass down and began to pace around the room.

“I don’t know how to tell her,” he said to the either, “I don’t know where to begin. It all went so horribly wrong and I knew it would! I tried to tell you but you never listen! Because I’m the bad one and you’re the smart one, and there was never any reason to listen! And now… now I’m all that’s left!”

“What are you talking about?” Orenda asked. She was growing more and more annoyed with his insanity, and more and more worried that he had lost his mind completely and wouldn’t remember where the temple was that she wanted him to lead her to.

“Well I mean,” he said, talking directly to her now, “It is hard to keep a matched set, isn’t it? You take it out and play with it and you start… you lose some pieces here and there, but it’s still a set, isn’t it?”

“I never had many toys,” Orenda told him.

“Of course you didn’t,” he laughed, “You had a horrible childhood, because I can’t do anything right! I can’t… I’m the evil twin!” He said as if it was an explanation, “There’s always… he was a prodigy. He was casting shields when we were five years old! He was going to be the next high priest, after mom retired. Thesis had chosen him, of course, that’s why he was so good at everything! He had such a bright future and… and people thought I would be jealous, but, I never was, Orenda. Being the evil twin is easy. Being the lazy sack-of-shit who was expected to mooch off your brother is easy. It’s so easy to be nothing. It’s so easy to do nothing. I never told them that I could do it too, and they never expected me to do anything, even though it made no sense, that one of us would be great and the other wouldn’t. We were the same. We were exactly the same. We were a matched set. We could slip out and replace each other, but I never told anyone but Ronnie, and he never shared my secrets. If he had… we could have had… god, it all went so wrong and then it just kept going wrong! It changed him, Orenda, the Emerald Knight changed him!”

“I demand that you start making sense!” Orenda snapped, “I won’t piece it together from bits and bobs! I demand to know who I am! Who is Ronnie? Is that my father?”

“Garon Firefist,” Gareth said, “He… he was my brother. I’m almost positive he’s your father. It makes no sense, but that’s what it has to be, right? Look at you. You’re a fire elf. You have to be his child. You don’t look anything like Soko, so you must take after your father.”

“Soko?” Orenda asked.

“Sokomaur Sambress,” Gareth explained, “Your mother.”