Given how bad our luck had been over the past few months I half expected Standing Stone to be awash in flames when we arrived, but thankfully the fortress city was intact and bustling when it came into view.
As I had predicted, we reached Standing Stone late in the afternoon with the sun already beginning to dip below the horizon. A hazy, red glow saturated the air as we crested one last hill, looking ahead to see the city coming alive as dozens of lights began to flicker to life within the many buildings sequestered behind its outer wall. In the very heart of the city, a massive chunk of celestial rock loomed over everything, standing imperiously like a spear that had fallen from the sky.
The infamous edifice that the city was named for was nearly three hundred feet high, about one hundred feet across, and lodged thoroughly in the earth, although the Kierhaians had built additional structures around the base to shore up the stone where its tilt made it uneven. Walkways had been carved across its outer shell with openings leading to its many interior rooms where barracks full of soldiers were quartered. Anti-siege weapons were installed on the higher levels of the Stone, including magical defenses designed to fell flying creatures.
With the diligent pragmatism Kierhaians were known across Selarune for, no expense was spared in ensuring that every aspect of Standing Stone was prepared to defend against a siege. The outer wall was twenty feet high with a secondary wall behind it that was twice as tall with twice as many archers and crossbowmen manning it. Ballista and trebuchets were housed behind angled metal slabs to better protect them against magical or draconic assault. The double gates meant that any attempt to breach the outer wall would have to survive against two layers of defenses before any real assault on the city itself could commence.
There was a saying that I’d picked up in Kiret. “Never ask a Kierhaian to tell you the difference between pragmatism and paranoia.” It had been meant to be derogatory (as many things in that racist hellhole often were), but seeing how well prepared the city was for battle, I couldn’t help but be impressed. The reason why it was meant as an insult was that despite all of its immaculate preparation, Kierhai had never been invaded by any foreign power in the entirety of its existence as a sovereign nation, calling into question if those preparations were necessary at all.
If Irinholm had been built like this, could we have held the Ishmarians off?
I pushed the thought away . That’s a rabbit hole with a dead end at the very bottom. Better to spend your time thinking about where we’re lodging for tonight and how we’re paying our way to Blossom City in the morning.
The guards at the outer gate stopped us for papers and trade permits. The caravan leader turned over his manifest and permit and quickly vouched for us, saying we were hired muscle and leaving it at that. It was only when several of the guards inspecting the caravan wagons for contraband found Nevin shivering in the back that things got interesting.
A guard clad in black armor made of iron plates tied together with thick blue strings called me over. “Who is this?” He pointed into the rear wagon, where Nevin had sequestered himself in a makeshift shelter between two large wooden crates. “He’s wearing an Algrustian border guard uniform. We do not wish to cause any kind of diplomatic incident. Any failure to explain will result in us refusing you entry.”
Nothing for it but to tell the truth. I quickly explained the situation to the guard, leaving out the likelihood that the attack on the outpost had been carried out by Black Scale Legionnaires. Once the whole story comes out, gods know what will happen. Right now we need to put distance between us and Algrustos. After a few questions, the guard took Nevin into custody citing the need for a full debrief about the attack on his outpost.
Sheena had to look him in the eye to calm him down. “Everything will be fine. These men are taking you somewhere safe. They’ll ask you some questions about what happened.” Nevin was still shaky, but he nodded mutely. She gave him a small smile. “Hold your head high. What you tell the Kierhaians might save peoples’ lives.”
He nodded weakly again, but he clenched his fists and took in a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll do as you say. For my comrades.” He walked away with the guard, who took him up onto the rampart via a manually operated dumbwaiter platform. He waved at us as the platform took him up and away; Sheena waved back to him until he disappeared inside the guardhouse on top of the parapet.
As we were being cleared to pass through the second gate, I looked up at the rampart above. No fewer than eight soldiers were looking down at me, faces partially hidden behind their bowl-shaped helmets and demonlike masks. Each carried a fine wooden crossbow or tall bow, but that was not what drew my attention. Sitting within easy reach of each soldier was a small leather satchel with a wick sticking out of it.
The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Blackpowder bombs. Light and drop, and everything in this narrow space gets blown to bits. There was barely twenty feet between the gate we had passed through and the gate we were standing in front of. No escape if the guards think we’re out of line.
Alicia must have noticed my face because she elbowed me. “Hey, Kuro. What’s with you?”
I nodded my head towards the rampart. “You ever heard of blackpowder?” She shook her head. “It’s nasty stuff. It causes explosions that can rip a man in half. Enough of it might take a dragon out too. The guys above us have enough to blow the entire caravan to smithereens.”
Her face didn’t betray any reaction, but she had to be either impressed or afraid of the situation. “Well, I guess we better be on our best behavior, then.” After five more minutes, the gate swung open, the twin metal doors creaking as two sets of soldiers had to pull them open from the other side.
Our wagon trundled down a paved stone street and while I had at one point been in a Kierhaian city and knew what to expect, Alicia and Sheena did not. The girls oohed and ahhed as we passed under paper lanterns bearing runic script strung between buildings flanking the street. Bright and colorful streamers hung from every windowsill shaped like fish, dragons, or birds. As we passed a crossroad, they stared at the guardian statues on each corner.
Each street intersection in Standing Stone, just like in Blossom City, had four guardian statues that sat on the four corners of the streets. Depicting noble animals draped in Kierhaian finery sitting at attention, the statues were well-maintained and so life-like it was easy to believe that they would come alive at any moment.
After passing three sets of these statues, Sheena’s curiosity got the better of her. “What eccentric decorations. Do they serve a practical purpose?” She pointed at them as we passed a fourth set.
I gingerly reached over to where she was sitting at the edge of the wagon’s back and pulled her hand down to her side. “The Kierhaians believe that spirits walk through their lands at will, and the statues are there to remind people of that. Please try not to look like you’re making fun of them.”
Alicia chuckled. As we passed by a group of people, however, any commentary she was about to make was cut off as her eyes were drawn to their clothing. The group comprised of six women all with dark hair of varying lengths with various fine jeweled hair pins. Each was wearing a beautiful robe made of silk, some resembling wraps held in place by sashes around the waist while others were full dresses with gilded necklines. The woman in the lead wore a form-fitting blue dress with long sleeves that left very little to the imagination, her long legs visible through a slit in the side.
“Is that silk? Are those women wearing clothes made of silk?!” She gawked at the women as the wagon passed, and the lead winked at her as she led her procession along. Alverd smiled.
“It is. Silk is one of the cornerstones of Kierhaian commerce. The climate in this country is just right for cultivating silkworms. If possible, we could visit the market towers later.”
“Market towers?” Alicia asked.
Alverd elaborated. “Because there’s limited space inside Standing Stone’s wall, the marketplace expanded vertically to allow for more space for buildings dedicated to other purposes. There are four towers built in a rectangular formation that have bridges between them. The towers themselves house the actual vendors and each tower is dedicated to certain goods. The bridges often draw performers or entertainers looking to make coin off the passerby.”
Still excited, Alicia watched the women fade off into the distance. “We could never have luxuries like this in Ishmar. Even before the annexation, Kierhai never exported silk to Ishmar directly. Once Marevar was taken, the only way we could acquire silk was through Kiret, who charged ridiculous prices for it. Not that anyone other than the most powerful could afford silk clothes anyway.”
For once, Alverd seemed to pick up on something. “You know, when we get a chance we could try looking at the market towers. Perhaps tomorrow. We might find some interesting things there that would catch your eye.”
She scrambled over to him, nudging me aside as she crawled through the wagon to get to him, her eyes sparkling. “Really?!”
Irritated, I coughed loudly. “With what money? A robe like that would cost us more gold than it would take to put the four of us up for lodging for a week.” I felt a little bad when Alicia’s smile drooped, like a puppy who had just been kicked. Way to go, Kuro. Once again you know just what to say to bring the mood crashing down.
Alverd clapped his hand on Alicia’s shoulder. “I’m sure after we finish a job or two we can afford a few luxuries. After what we’ve been through, we deserve to indulge a bit.” Alicia smiled again, her hope restored. Part of me was in awe at how quickly and easily he had turned her mood around. Why can’t I have a way with girls like that?
A sudden pressure on my shoulders, almost as though some small animal had jumped onto them, made me almost fall over. Oh, right. I guess I do have some charm, although damned if I know what it is. There was a nuzzling sensation on the back of my neck, as if some small animal was poking me with its nose, then disappeared.
Maybe Deotra will know something that might help me out. No harm in asking. I’ll have to arrange some private time to speak to her later. For now I had to respect her wish to remain a secret to Alverd and the others. Even if she hadn’t requested that, I would’ve by virtue of keeping Drache as far from them as possible.
The Traveler’s District was far away from the merchants’ lodgings, so we had to disembark from the wagon eventually. The caravan leader graciously paid us a little extra saying it was his way of being thankful for good fortune. “You lot be careful,” he said as his wagon rolled away. “You get out of this what you put into it. If ever in doubt, do what you must knowing it will come back to you someday.”
Alicia quirked her eyebrow at the leader’s strange advice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Alverd scratched at his chin. “He was saying that what goes around comes around. He did us a good turn in the hopes that in the future one will be done to him. I can’t argue with that logic, actually. Compassion is something you can never run out of no matter how much you give away.”
Dear gods, that’s a corny statement. If it were anyone but Alverd I’d already be mocking them. Alverd started leading the group down the street, talking about the various sights and sensations to be found in Standing Stone’s market towers, of the food and curios to be found. I felt a nagging sensation, like someone was watching me.
I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a guardian statue. It was a fox sitting on its high legs and upright like a human and clad in a long robe decked out with charms and bead necklaces. Even carved in stone, the expression of the fox was clear, a smug look of satisfaction on its smirking face. I stepped around the statue.
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“People have such interesting ideas about us,” Deotra’s voice mewled in my mind. “If only they knew we aren’t so dissimilar.”
I spoke to Deotra in my mind’s voice, trying not to lose track of what I was doing in the meantime. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the last few days. You haven’t even snuck into camp in your fox form to keep me company while I’m on watch. Is there something I should know?”
There was a pause, and though I couldn’t see her I could almost picture the way Deotra chewed at her lip nervously while thinking her answer over that I’d noticed the first week after we’d left Ethenia’s ruins. Then she answered. “Coming back to Kierhai is strange. How should one feel when they come back to a home they don’t feel welcome in? Or a home that isn’t really home anymore?”
Well, now. That’s the first I’ve heard of this. Deotra had indeed come to me during my night watches to speak about various subjects, mostly about how to use the Staff of Farewells, and on two occasions just frivolous things about my childhood. She’d never opened up about herself, and I was too afraid to broach the topic. Even in my head, I could hear the quaver in her tone telling me she was bitter or indifferent about coming home, or maybe a little of both.
“So you were born in Kierhai?” Instantly an image took shape in my mind’s eye to that of an entire town hidden deep in a forest where humanoids resembling fox beastmen lounged around lazily in the sun napping without a care in the world. Each one possessed unearthly physical beauty and grace, prancing about in clothes similar to the women Alicia had seen earlier.
Deotra fed me a memory of herself as a child. She was adorably small with her hair even messier than it was now so much so that I could barely see her eyes beneath the unruly bangs shrouding her face. She was wearing a white robe with red pants that had huge, billowing legs that flared out at the bottom like a dress’s hem. She looked utterly miserable, and it made me strangely angry rather than sad to see her looking that way.
Emotional transference. The memory is so strong in Deotra’s mind that I can intuit and resonate with the emotions she feels when she conjures it. Emotional transference was not uncommon between a mage and familiar, but considering Deotra’s human-level sentience and intelligence it made for a unique form of communication that conveyed her feelings better than words ever could.
Then the full force of the anger hit me, and I nearly choked. A red hot, seething black feeling took hold of my heart, like someone had poured molten metal over it. It simmered and boiled and hissed all at the same time, coiling over my innards like a snake, squeezing tight. My breath seized in my throat and I doubled over, leaning against the statue to remain upright.
There was something truly wrong about the anger. It was inaccurate to describe it as anger, for anger was too tame a word to encompass the full and complete loathing coursing through me like blood through my veins. My hand grasped at my chest, as if I were trying to rip my own heart out to make the sensation stop.
Hatred. Pure, simple, focused. I knew this feeling for I too harbored it deep in my own memories. Left to fester and boil over the course of years of self-reinforcement, ever present beneath layers of masks and armor we built to hide it away from the world. Like one’s shadow, it wasn’t always visible, and could be hidden for a time, but ultimately it was always there, always watching, always waiting.
My heart beat uncontrollably, haphazardly, no longer a steady rhythm but an uneven frenzy. “Deotra, stop.” I pleaded. “Make it stop. I can’t breathe…”
The image of the sad little girl vanished and was replaced with a swirling void of thoughts, memories and dreams blending together as they streaked past me, or through me. Then I stood, seemingly within an empty space that slowly began to illuminate.
My eyes beheld a Kierhaian shrine, constructed of red wood and festooned with streamers and white charm papers with exorcism sutras written on them. The strings upon which the charms were hung crisscrossed with no apparent pattern or sense, draped across trees and stones and posts. I was standing beneath a massive red wood arch, a spirit gate, decorated with scraps of parchment upon which childrens’ wishes were written in faltering handwriting. Despite having seen shrines like this in Blossom City, I was never sure if the shrine was a temple, a grave, a monument, or some combination of all three.
Then Deotra was hugging me, her short body pressed up against me, slender arms wrapped around my chest tight, her face buried under my chin. She looked up at me with her huge, watery golden eyes and quivering lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel all of that. I didn’t want you to see that.” Tears were already forming at the edges of her eyes. “Please don’t be mad at me. I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll control myself better. Please.”
“No, I’m not mad. It’s alright.” I placed my hand on her head and ran my palm through her silky soft tresses, stopping to scritch one of her perky fox ears. “I just wasn’t expecting it, was all.”
She took a deep breath, in through her nose and then out through her mouth, allowing the soothing sensation of my hand in her hair to calm her. “I was worried that if you saw, it might change the way you see me. You might come to fear me, or worse, hate me.” A tear ran down her cheek, down to her chin. “I’m not a good person. I’ve done terrible things. I don’t deserve you.”
“Hey, stop that. Don’t say those things. I’m not going to hate you without knowing why. Plus, if you’ve been following me around since I was in that orphanage then you know I’ve got a lot of things I’m not proud of either.”
Using the technique of emotional transference, I sent her a memory of a wheat field on fire, the screams of dozens of Ishmarian soldiers ringing out. She shuddered as she felt my grim satisfaction, my desire to watch them burn. She lowered her face back into my chest, shivering as she shook off the memory.
Her arms held me like a vise. “I guess you’re right. We really are two of a kind.” She sniffled, then giggled, but as she did the giggling started becoming unhinged, a kind of hitching laughter that deepened until her voice had undergone a transformation. When Deotra looked at me again, her tone and facial expression told me that she was no longer in control.
“You two really deserve each other.” The smugness now dripping from Drache’s voice made me want to vomit. “But as usual, she only tells you part of the story. There is so, so, so much more to it than that.” Another memory forced its way into my mind, Deotra in the same outfit but older, closer to the appearance she had now, disheveled and with tears on her face, her emotions a jumble of pain, fear, confusion and betrayal. She was walking toward the rock from the shrine, tearing away the streamers and charms around it, drawn to it by some pulsing warmth emanating from it. As she came closer, I could hear through Deotra the sound of velvety, familiar laughter.
“Drache. Figures you’d have to weigh in.” Breaking out of Deotra’s grip was impossible, and even then I was still trapped in an empty mindscape, so I had to just accept my situation. “You never show up unless you want something. So kindly say what you came to say so you can be on your way again. You unsettle me, and that’s me being nice about admitting it.”
Drache smiled with Deotra’s face, turning what should have been an innocuous gesture into something sinister. “You cut me to the quick, boy. Perhaps I simply wish to congratulate you on your continued survival.” Then she sighed. “But since you asked, I will not beat around the bush. There is something in motion in Kierhai, a series of events that could result in thousands of people dying if nothing is done.”
I was skeptical, but the faster I indulged her the faster I could escape. “Ugh, fine. Make it quick. I don’t have the patience for dealing with you.” A feeling like a snake’s body wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, crushing me up against Deotra’s body. “Enough!” I yelled. “Don’t try me! Or maybe you need to be reminded that you still need me to do your bidding?”
There was a brief hint of sulky irritation on Deotra’s face, replaced by haughty indifference. “Well, well, well. How like you to take all the fun out of playing my role. Very well.” She released me, stepping back. Behind Deotra, the image of a great tower appeared with patrols of guards stationed on walls surrounding it.
“There is something I need here in Kierhai. A relic known as the Hand of the Usurper. It is necessary to my plans. The Kierhaians hold it in a repository for dangerous artifacts left over from the War of the Five Kings here in this country.” She waved Deotra’s hand, and something sparked into existence in front of me. A small dagger with a symmetrical, thin, triangular blade and gold hilt appeared. Set into the grip was a glittering amethyst, the same color as my own eyes. In the metal of the blade, however, I saw only chaos.
Depictions of atrocities so foul and heinous they defied explanation reflected themselves in the metal sheen imprinting upon my subconscious and then fading away mercifully an instant later to be replaced by some new horrifying vision. The knife had seen death, the deaths of beings beyond my ability to comprehend. It took enormous will to tear my eyes away from it.
“What you see is a weapon of immense power. Granted unto mortalkind not as a gift, but as a burden. The Hand is a tool for slaying abominations of near godlike power, and I require it for that purpose.” Drache’s gaze fell upon the Hand, looking at it with almost childlike wonder and admiration. Her hand stroked the handle of the knife the way one would admire a work of art. “You will get it for me. And no, I will not tell you why I need it.” She smirked at me. “I trust we understand each other? You do as I say, Deotra spends time with you, you get to play hero. Everyone wins.”
That is beyond narcissistic. But if Drache thinks I’ll just do as she says, I guess I can play along and hope she lets something slip. If there’s one thing I can count on, arrogance always ends up being the undoing of her type. “Whatever gets me out of this conversation faster, Drache. Get the Hand, give it to you, don’t ask questions. I can handle it.”
Deotra’s expression became an arrogant smirk. “Good. Nice to see I don’t have to train my new dog too much. Now, begone with you. I daresay your friends are probably curious as to where you are.” I blinked. “What do you mean, where I a-”
My eyes unfocused, then refocused, and I saw I was no longer out on the street but in an alleyway. It was now dark, the only light coming from a lantern string. I stumbled out of the alleyway and into the light.
Somehow, in my fugue state, I’d lost at least two hours. It was now fully night, with the moon overhead and the stars out. In a trance, I’d managed to blindly stumble through Standing Stone, to somewhere unknown. Looking at the light, I saw that it was coming from a post covered in red paper lanterns. I saw them and my face went just as red as them.
Dear gods. Of all the places I could get lost in, I had to end up in the Red Lantern District.
Across the street was a resplendent three-story building with paper windows, a steepled roof and elegantly painted red wood sign boards advertising the illicit services offered within. A few women were standing outside of the building, all in differing states of alluring undress, done up with makeup and cooing to passersby.
Two of them were human, possibly twins, with long brown hair that ran almost down to their feet, their robes falling from soft shoulders and barely managing not to outrage their modesties. A short, slim elf girl with blonde tresses stood with them, her more lithe frame concealed between a bright red dress held by a rather loose-fitting sash. The last woman was a tall cat beastwoman with ginger hair done in twintails, making little mewing sounds and fluttering her eyelashes seductively at a mercenary who was now blushing slightly at the attention he was receiving.
I know it’s a brothel, but someone might be able to give me directions. Against my better judgment, I crossed the street, avoiding an inebriated guard who was staggering around out in the open, and made my way to the front door. Once the girls noticed me, the cat beastwoman clucked her tongue and sashayed over to me.
She knelt down, partially because I was at least a foot shorter than her and also to allow her ample bosom to nearly spill from her decadent robe. “Hey there, little mouse. You look lost. Why don’t you come over here and play with me?” She winked, sticking her tongue out to look cute.
I sighed. “Ma’am, while you are right in assuming I’m lost, I actually need to be somewhere else right now. Could you kindly point me towards the Travelers’ District? I need to get there, now.”
She smirked and leaned forward even more. “Aww, you gonna go back there? Won’t you be cold and lonely? Why not stay here? You could rub my belly until I purrrrrr.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a searing flash of incandescent rage ignited like a blue flame. The weight on my shoulders manifested again, and I felt something akin to a fox’s tail curl around my throat possessively. A low hiss echoed in my ear. Uh oh. I better get the message across before this girl gets a lot hotter under the collar than she already is.
I was about to tell the nice cat woman that I was more of a fox person when a heavy hand clad in a metal gauntlet landed on my shoulder. “You said you were lost, kid? Seems to me you’re in the Red Lantern District.” A gruff voice rumbled from somewhere behind and above me. Gulping, I slowly craned my head to see who it belonged to.
My face blanched when I saw the black armor and draconic-looking helmet of a Black Scale Legionnaire and his buddy standing behind me, grinning like children in a candy shop. “Now that we figured out that you aren’t lost, why don’t you do us a favor and get lost?” They laughed, and I nearly gagged on the smell of alcohol that wafted towards me. Great. Can this night get any worse?
The guy on the right, the one who wasn’t holding me, burped loudly and then looked at me again, his unfocused eyes seeing my staff. “Hey, wait a tick. This one’s a mage.” The blood in my veins froze.
The first Legionnaire hiccuped and then chuckled. “Izzat right? Little pipsqueak’s a spellslinger? What luck.” His grip tightened, and I winced as his metal-clad fingers dug into my soft flesh.
The cat woman’s attitude changed instantly. She leaned back up, and she looked ready to rip the Legionnaire apart. “Hey now. Mister Customer here was just about to play Cat in the Cradle with me, and if you lay a hand on him you’ll be violating our laws. Believe it or not, there are some rather strict rules about starting brawls in the Red Lantern District.”
I applaud her courage but reasoning with a Legionnaire is like trying to bash through a brick wall with your skull. You can try all you want but all you’ll end up with is a headache. The Legionnaire not holding me stepped forward, until he was face-to-face with the beastwoman. “Rules ain’t shit if you ain’t got the muscle to enforce them. Unless you’re hiding some under that pretty outfit of yours.” He leered at her, chuckling lustfully.
The cat woman grinned, her pearly teeth shining in the lantern light. “Oh, I haven’t an ounce of muscle on me, sir. Her, on the other hand, you should worry about.” The man turned his head to follow the cat woman’s eyes and swiveled his head just in time to have a large studded club slam into his face. The man flew five feet through the air before hitting the ground and rolling another five.
My instincts screaming, I threw myself to the ground. Above me there was a sickening crunch and a cry of surprise before the sound of metal hitting the street some ways away. Then someone stepped in front of me. I looked up at a tall woman clad in black iron armor and purple overcoat not unlike the kind worn by the guards at the gate, the now bloodied club in her left hand. Her jet black hair was done up in a short ponytail and her eyes were of a purple shade similar to my own. She reached her hand down to me.
“Yuzuruha. Gods am I glad to see you.”
I grasped her hand and winced slightly as she pulled me up in one smooth motion, not even breaking a sweat as she hauled me to my feet. She brushed a bit of dust off my robe with her right hand and gave me an amused smirk. “I’m glad ta see ya too, Kuro. Now let’s get outta here. Yer friends are lookin’ for ya.”
My fellow mercenary waved at the cat woman, tossing her a small pouch. “Oh look, some shiny objects,” she said without attempting to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Surely they’re so distractin’ that you didn’t see two guys get their asses beat outside yer establishment.”
The cat woman laughed, then tossed the pouch back to Yuzuruha. “Keep your money, she-wolf. This one’s on the house.” She sauntered back to the brothel where the other girls were already making a big show of how utterly oblivious they were to the smackdown that had just taken place.
I followed Yuzuruha through the street, taking comfort in knowing a heavily armed and armored person was now watching over me. When we were some distance away, she laughed out loud. “Goddamn it, Kuro. I turn around for three years and here you are getting back into trouble like it was just yesterday. Your friends are lookin’ all over Standin’ Stone for ya. Guess that means your buddies will be buyin’ the first round when we all get back to the Travelers’ District.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good to see you’re looking forward to drinking us all under the table again. That aside, what’s been going on in Kierhai? You do know those were Black Scale Legionnaires you just left in the street back there.”
Yuzuruha’s expression became grim. “Yeah, I know. Things took a pretty bad turn about a month ago, and Kierhai is turning into one big powder keg. Here’s hoping a mage like you ain’t the spark that lights it.” She nudged me, playfully, but I wasn’t reassured.
“I make no promises. Now, tell me everything. Down to the last detail.”