“I have a question,” Velox said, voice bouncing off the walls of the dark sewer tunnel. “Do you normally drop out of the sky, or is it like… you know, special occasions only?”

Cyrus blinked. Was he serious?

“Don’t antagonize them,” Deen whispered.

“No, it’s amusing. Please let that one ask the questions,” the wind-wielding stranger called from above, clinging to the metal rungs built into the rockface of a vertical shaft. She reached one bandaged hand into a deep square crevice cut into the rock and pulled out an oil lantern. She jumped down and added, “Tell me. Have you seen me before?”

“We don’t even know who—” Deen began, but Velox put a hand over his mouth.

“I’m asking the questions here, Daniels,” he said, pointing a thumb at himself for emphasis. As Velox shut his eyes and nodded to himself, the dark look on Deen’s face made Cyrus think the ex-captain might gut the man with a spear right then and there. “If I saw a sorcerer like you flying around, I think I’d remember that.”

“Well. There’s your answer.” She turned her palms over and started down the tunnel. The three of them followed after her. “Special occasions only, captain. You. Hold this.”

The bandaged woman lit the lantern and thrust it in Deen’s face like one of the noblewomen of old passing a shopping bag to her valet. Deen opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider and snatched it with a frown.

“What’s your name?” Velox asked.

“I go by Argent these days,” she said.

“Is that a miss or mister Argent?”

“Not telling. I should take a poll. Man or woman?” She held out a fist and counted with slender fingers as she spoke. “One, two, three.”

“Man?” Deen said.

“Woman,” Velox and Cyrus said. The captain slapped him lightly on the shoulder and made a thumbs up. He had no idea what that was about, but it was obvious from her mannerisms.

“Outvoted.” Argent glanced back. “You don’t sound as confident as those two.”

“You’ve gone out of your way to hide it,” Deen said defensively. “I’m sorry if I’m wrong.”

“I’m not saying you’re right or wrong.” Argent shrugged. “But I suppose it is a tie. Your friend Luke also guessed I was a man.”

Cyrus and Deen stopped walking. The others did as well in response.

“You knew him?” Cyrus whispered, head bowed.

In the silence that followed, the constant flow of sewage beside the lanternlit walkway became deafening. It reminded him of the stone fountain of Cygnus where he and Luke had parted ways. His heart wrenched at the thought of the boy who’d died trying to rescue him.

“I suppose,” Argent said slowly, “it did look quite bad, didn’t it?” She turned and pressed her palms together apologetically. “I should have mentioned this sooner. Your friend survived the thunderflute’s bolt.”

“We know he died,” Deen said, choking back sorrow. “We… What? What are you trying to say?”

The churning river of sewage faded from his ears. Right then, Cyrus could not hear anything but the sound of Argent’s wind-warped voice and the beating of his own heart.

“I’m saying your friend is alive.”

“Prove it,” Deen said, hand shaking as he laid it upon the spear hanging over his back. “If you’re lying, I… I will… I don’t care what kind of powers you have. I swear to the Flocks… If you’re lying to us…”

“Luke spoke fondly of you, Captain Deen Daniels. And of you as well, Cyrus.” She looked at Velox. “Not sure who you are, though.”

“Velox,” he said. “And if you’re still taking my questions, I want to know how the kid’s still kicking. Magic is magic, but what you’re talking about is different. Talking about a miracle. Daniels told me the kid took the arrow from that flute thing through his heart.”

“No miracles here,” Argent said, waving a hand. Her fingers traced pinkish lines of light in the air. Cyrus stared open-mouthed at those lines, transfixed. Of all the countless unbelievable things he’d seen in the last three weeks, this was the most beautiful. The light vanished after a few seconds. “Just plain old magic.”

“But how?” Deen whispered.

“In most cases, a person can survive the heart’s destruction for a few seconds. That’s why I jumped in when I did. I repaired what critical components I could on the spot, but I needed more time to properly heal him. Apologies for kidnapping your friend.”

“Why were you there in the first place?” Velox asked.

“I was in the general area keeping an eye on what’s been brewing between Mirastelle and Terra Daeva. I’ve trained myself to sense other Weavers from a great distance. I was monitoring him. Assessing if he was a threat. As I think we sufficiently covered earlier, it’s not every day you run into a Weaver.”

“Weavers? That’s the name for people who can…” Velox flung his arms around a few times. “You know?”

“Sure is. Daevans call it the Individual’s Kingdom. I find that a little too wordy for my tastes.”

“You said you were sensing other Weavers,” Cyrus said. “But that would mean that Luke is one.”

“It’s true,” Deen said. “Sorry for not telling you. I figured it wouldn’t do any good.” He looked at Argent. “I thought you were planning some kind of shady experiment with him.”

“You’re saying Luke can do what she can?” he asked, amazed. Cyrus recalled seeing his friend drop from a second floor window and stand back up like it was normal. That hadn’t been his imagination, had it?

“Not even close,” Argent laughed. “Not for a long time. I plan to train him for the next several years. He’s already agreed to learn the basics.”

“Train how?” Deen frowned. “You’d make a boy fight this war?”

“It’s been tried,” she said quietly. “Weavers waging war, exerting our wills on the world. I do not wish to return to those days. I thought the feeling was mutual, but…”

“The Daevans broke the peace,” Deen said. “Didn’t they? Those ampules I saw in Filose. That’s Weaving.”

Velox leaned over to Cyrus and whispered, “Any idea what those two are going on about now?”

“No, sorry.”

Velox nodded.

“Some sort of artificially-induced version, at least. I don’t like them. I'm here to nudge things in Mirastelle's favor until she explains herself."

“She?”

“No one of concern to you.”

“Fair enough,” Deen said. “Luke won’t fight, then?”

“I won’t force him, but I’m not his keeper. He can make his own decisions and deal with the consequences. I’ll stop training him if he comes to view Weaving as a weapon. You can hold me to that.”

“I will.” The ex-captain bowed his head. “You sound like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Really?” Velox snorted. “Sounds more to me like she’s got her head stuck in a fan.”

Cyrus couldn’t help himself. Maybe because he’d bottled it all in for so long. The suffocating grayness inside him shattered like glass and he burst out laughing. It didn’t take long for Velox and Argent to join in. Even the strait-laced ex-captain cracked a smile. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped off his chin.

“I’m so glad,” he said, sniffing. “I’m glad that Luke is alive. That something good happened. Finally something good happened.”

“Where is Luke now?” Deen asked after a moment.

“Here in Ulciscor, at his insistence. He’s already up and walking. I’ll spare you the magician’s lecture as to how. As to why, well…”

“Don’t worry, I understand. The how and the why.” The ex-captain sighed. “Clipping kid has a knack for convincing you that bringing him along for dangerous things is a great idea.”

“I am keeping watch as best I can.” Argent turned her head and glanced upward. “I can see him even from down here. He is traveling quite fast to the western end of the city, perhaps by automobile. Luke mentioned he was meeting with a woman who supposedly tried to kill him. I didn’t get her name.”

“That…” Velox scratched his head. “Sounds really stupid.”

“He assured me she was friendly.”

“Oh,” Deen said. “I’m pretty sure he meant Aisha.”

“The Ahraran woman who interviewed us?” Cyrus asked.

Deen nodded.

“He didn’t think you would return here so soon,” Argent said. She began walking again, gesturing them to follow. “I suspect we are all in this city for the same urgent reason.”

“Finding Mammon Rigel.”

“Indeed, Captain Daniels. I split up with Luke upon arriving to cover more ground in our investigation. I haven’t found Rigel yet, but I am confident I know where he will be a little over two hours from now.”

“The conference,” Velox said, smacking palm and knuckles together.

“You’ve been following the Guard’s movements, haven’t you?” Deen asked Argent. “That’s how you were able to find us. You used Major Cade’s ambush.”

“You’re a perceptive one. No wonder Rigel wants you dead.”

“So it’s as bad as I thought. He’s infiltrated the Guard, and not just the lower ranks. He has the ear of at least one major.”

Deen frowned. Velox looked at him and emphatically shook his head.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“He proposed my execution!” Deen exclaimed. They both stopped walking and faced each other. “I love that man the same as you, but look at what he’s burdened the Guard with!”

“It’s Major Jorgen Vasran you plucked fool!” Velox snapped, grabbing Deen by the collar. “One of Ulciscor’s most treasured soldiers, a dog of the Daevan Elites! Think about what that would do to the Guard! What if we’re wrong and he’s only being deceived? We need proof!”

“We don’t have time for proof!” Deen shouted, grabbing his wrist.

Cyrus could still hear Levian Vega snickering. Complete confidence in his ally’s hiding place. Was the Guard going to tear itself apart?

Argent spun around and snapped her fingers. The two men untangled, hands reaching for each other but rebuffed as if by a wall of air. No, not as if. There really was a wall of solid air separating them, wind rippling hair and clothes.

“Captain Daniels is right. We do not have time for this.”

“He’s right though,” Deen said, still looking at Velox. There was a fire in the ex-captain’s eyes. “There has to be a way to tell them apart.”

“There is.” Argent started down the tunnel again, Cyrus and the others following her lead. “It’s tenuous, though. Not real proof.”

None of them said anything, so she continued.

“I have been tracking Mammon Rigel’s activities for quite a number of years. I believe he and his infiltrators were responsible for the disaster in the Proxima corridor.”

“What? You mean how Dalezen Altair vanished without a trace?”

“You know of it then, Captain Daniels?”

“Know of it? My father fought for Dalezen Altair. When I was a child, they told me he’d been one of the few trying to keep the army together when everything was falling apart. He lost his life in the chaos before they could manage a retreat.”

“Did you know that most of Dalezen’s highest-ranking guards disappeared a few weeks after that? They’ve never been seen since.”

“What are you talking about? That never happened.”

“It did. You simply weren’t told. After the corridor was taken, the Altairans were torn to ribbons. Communication broke down. Plenty of information was lost, some of it forever. Such losses were only a small part of the countless tragedies that followed when the Munitiod forces finally arrived in the region.”

“The Razing,” Cyrus whispered.

“Yes. If not for the disappearance of Dalezen, the Razing of Altair might never have happened. I investigated those guards, and the commonality I discovered was disturbing. A significant portion held a secretive adoration for Tapera, the Rigelese Flock. Those of Rigel and non-Rigel birth. Whether or not they’d spent years living in Rigel. In contradiction of any public religious affiliation they may have had, though most I found did not.”

“Vasran’s never been one to speak of the Flocks in more than the broadest sense,” Deen said. He met Velox’s eyes. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Plenty of worshippers don’t place one Flock above the rest.”

“It could be something as simple as a scroll in his office, a ring on his finger. Can you think of anything like that?”

The frustration was plain on their faces. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the lantern’s flickering flame. It was clear that nothing was coming to mind, even after working under the man for years.

“Even the smallest detail would do,” she said. “If they identify each other by their allegiance to the Tapera Flock, it could be something so subtle you wouldn’t normally give a second thought.”

Cyrus felt hopeless. If Mammon Rigel really instigated the Razing of Altair as Argent said, it meant that the man wasn’t just the source of Castitas’s suffering now, but nearly his entire life. And then it hit him.

Trust me, they’ll be just fine until we get back, Levian Vega laughed. That smug arrogance. He understood why Luke hated the man so much. Yet, in some twisted way, Cyrus was glad he met him. He was glad that, for the first time, the anguish and torment of all that time he spent in captivity meant something. He was glad that they invaded Castitas. He was glad for the Razing of Altair. Because if it wasn’t for all of that, for all of the horrible, nightmarish things that happened to him and to all the people he loved, he wouldn’t have been able to say this.

You should have killed me when you had the chance.

“I know who one of the infiltrators is.”

Everyone stopped. All eyes turned to Cyrus.

“You do?” Deen asked, amazed.

“Who?”

“Don’t keep us in suspense kid,” Velox said.

“She drank from a colorless gourd,” Cyrus said quickly. “They’re exported everywhere, but they come from Rigel. It’s just about the only thing you can grow there. And her earrings. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think those were Tapera earrings.”

Deen made a choking sound in his throat.

“You’re… awfully knowledgeable about gourds,” Argent said.

“Who?” Velox looked from Cyrus to Deen. “Who!”

“Major Alexis Cade,” Cyrus said.

“Which division of the Guard does she command?”

Velox pointed at a marking on his uniform, grimacing. He sighed and put an arm around Deen. “Really wishing I hadn’t decided to help you today, pal.”

“I have heard of this Cade woman,” Argent said. “Impeccable swordsmanship and a brilliant mind for tactics. A troubling foe.”

“Think you could, you know, blow her down?” Velox asked. “Gold mantle. Can’t miss her.”

“I’m afraid not. I need to be at that conference. Ensuring the safety of Maro Ren and Vander Wolf takes precedence.”

“We were planning to go there ourselves,” Deen said, walking beside Argent. The four of them started moving. “The mayor and the general need to know about Mammon Rigel as soon as possible. And about Major Cade.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” she said. “I can’t exactly stroll through the front doors of the Council Building. Nor can you.”

“Wolf will see me,” he argued. “He has to, or the city is doomed.”

“Hold on,” Velox said. “Daniels, which Wall is guarding your folks?”

“Really wishing you hadn’t asked that.”

“You think Cade will use his family as hostages?” Argent asked.

“I think she’ll do anything to stop Daniels from getting to that conference. Think about how much effort she spent on us earlier. Cade’s cunning. You know that, Daniels. If coming to you won’t work, then she’ll try to drag you to her.”

“I’m the only one who went to Filose with Wolf,” he said softly. “It has to be me. I failed him once already. But my family is…”

Cyrus remembered those three, Lyla and Rolan and Elinor. Meeting them was one of his last good memories in a long while. The Daniels residence was full of kindly people that did not deserve to be in harm’s way. They’d given him and Luke a warm place to stay when they had nowhere else to go.

“Leave them to us,” Cyrus said. “I have an idea.”

———

Intermittent drizzling fell from the dark gray clouds hanging over Ulciscor as Luke listened to the hoofbeats of their carriage and the chattering throngs. Rectangular buildings several stories high of varying desaturated colors lined the streets, bunched together like books on a shelf. It felt like there were more people in the streets than ever; some in raincoats and umbrellas, others ignoring the downpour and simply going about their business. From the bits and pieces he overheard, civilians were anticipating a siege and assisting in the distribution of food, medicine, and weapons.

There won’t be a siege if the gates get thrown wide open, he thought.

“Nearly there,” Aisha said, drawing back the curtain to glance at the coachman and horses. She sat opposite Luke, legs crossed. The twin cerastes-design sheaths of the long knives hanging from her belt protruded prominently. “This is the residential district she lives in.”

“I would have thought she’d be somewhere more… fancy.”

“Fancy? No. Zela has never been one for ostentation.”

“Still, you’d think—”

Luke was cut off by a sound he imagined was like the crack of a hundred thunderflutes all firing at once. The carriage rattled and his ears rang. A ball of fire had replaced one of the building’s double doors, dissipating into a thick plume of smoke.

He Weaved Magenta into his ears, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest as he diverted even the tiniest fraction away from it. He Weaved it back into place as soon as he could hear the horses whinny with fear, the coachman frantically trying to soothe them.

“Zela!” Aisha shouted, holding one hand to her ear and standing. Luke nodded and made for the carriage door. She grabbed him by the arm and shook her head. “No! It’s dangerous!”

He Weaved again, this time into her ears. It was the first time he’d tried that on another person. It must have worked, because she lowered her hand and stopped shouting.

“It must be the same group that attacked us.”

“She’s in there?”

“That was an explosive, Luke. They might have more.”

“Is she in there!”

Aisha hesitated only a heartbeat longer before nodding.

That was all he needed. Luke leapt out of the carriage, ignoring the coachman’s shouts from behind and pushing through the wave of people scattering from the source of the explosion. Ahead, he spotted a soldier dressed in Ulciscor’s silver and black, wearing a gas mask and gripping a sword. The soldier disappeared through the gaping hole of the entrance.

Are you sure about this? It sounded like Luke’s voice, but it wasn’t.

His legs froze. Flames licked the edges of those blasted-out doors and black, acrid smoke was billowing out into the street. Standing this close, he could feel terrible heat. It felt like… like his back was burning. Like he could smell searing flesh. Like he could hear people screaming.

The screams are real, he thought. There are people in there!

He quashed his fear and took a step. Several onlookers were shouting at Luke, telling him to flee. Another step. Telling him that it wasn’t safe. A third step. He understood that. Before he knew it, he was running. He crossed his arms over his face and plowed through the cloud of smoke.

Weaving Green, he ducked underneath the swing of a sword and grabbed at the mask-wearing soldier’s wrist. He was wearing some kind of specially-textured glove. Flame resistance, maybe? He tried squeezing down on the soldier’s wrist but couldn’t get them to drop the weapon. Deftly he slipped around their next strike and analyzed the room. The building was some sort of apartment, he guessed. A check-in desk, two doors, and a staircase. It was hard to make out anything else, the air becoming increasingly opaque from the smoke.

The soldier in the gas mask chased him to the desk. He jumped and vaulted across the top, pressing one palm flat and throwing his lower half forward. He shifted to Blue for one heartbeat, pouring it all into the arm he’d pivoted with. The attacker’s sword thunked into the wooden surface inches from his arm, sending splinters flying. A woman huddled beneath the desk holding her hands over her head shrieked as Luke hit the floor beside her.

A second explosion upstairs rocked the building, but it wasn’t nearly as intense as the first. That was when Luke noticed the soldier’s earplugs. These people knew exactly what they were doing. They planned these executions and they didn’t care how many innocent people got dragged into it. He made a fist and tried Weaving Red, but it only electrocuted his arm and vanished.

Come on! Why won’t you let me use it?

I’m not the one stopping you, the voice said.

Then who was?

No time for that. The soldier finally lifted their sword, a piece of the desk breaking off as they forced it free. It was getting so hard to see through all the smoke. A rectangle of flames engulfed the wide doorway to the outside— flames that had begun to crawl along the walls.

He bolted for the staircase but skidded to a stop halfway to the staircase. The soldier wasn’t pursuing him. He spun and saw the glint of the sword reflecting firelight, its wielder crossing around to the other side of the desk. He could hear the woman coughing, but he couldn’t see her. She must have collapsed.

Luke hadn’t realized it until right then. To that soldier wearing the gas mask, there was no difference between him and the woman. They were both in the way. Nuisances to be cut down. He ran back, fast as he could. The soldier came into view, sword raised high.

You’re going to get hurt! the voice cried. Wait!

As the blade fell, Luke stepped between them and cloaked his arm in a vambrace of Blue. The sword struck with a sound like shattering frost.

“If I can’t even manage to save one person right in front of me,” Luke said, at first a whisper. He grabbed the blade wedged against his wrist with his other hand, gloving himself with invisible azure-blue. Wrestling for control, he finished at a shout, “Then I have no business worrying about getting hurt!”

He got both Blue-gloved hands around the blade and swayed from side to side as the soldier tried to shake him off. He lifted his legs and held on tight, putting his whole body weight on the weapon. They had no choice but to let go of the sword. It clattered out of Luke's arms and he stumbled back. Barely able to find footing, he lifted another Blue vambrace to block a punch, then reached out and ripped the gas mask off. An unfamiliar man stared back at Luke, pushing him down and landing on top of him. One arm pinned down and soon to be two, he spun threads of Blue around his forehead and smashed it into the man’s face. With a sound like crackling frost, blood ran down the man’s nostrils and dripped onto Luke’s face. The soldier’s eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness.

He wriggled out from underneath the man and was helping the woman hacking smoke to sit up beside him— spinning threads of Magenta around both their lungs— when Aisha arrived.

“Luke!” she called, one female soldier and two men in workclothes flanking her as they approached. All four held handkerchiefs to their mouths. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. There’s more upstairs. Can one of you get her out?”

Aisha patted one of the workmen on the shoulder and pointed at the woman. The man nodded and knelt down to help her.

“Let’s hurry,” he said, taking Aisha’s offered hand and standing.