“How does this look?” Mark asked, turning so Atissa could see him from the side.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Impractical maybe?”

“It looks sublime, master Mar’Doug,” Elaiadoros said. He stood to steps away holding another tunic for Mark to try. The scribe gave Atissa a disapproving look.

She felt that this was unfair. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be helpful. She just had no idea what answer Mark was looking for.

The three were in Mark’s room where, for the last half hour, he’d tried different tunics that all seemed more or less the same to Atissa. The tailor had provided more than half a dozen and Mark seemed to be unsure which to wear under his strange jacket.

The tunics were all ankle long which seemed very impractical to Atissa. Those were warmer in the winter sure but in the woods, they could easily get caught in the undergrowth.

Mark didn’t look for something to wear in the woods. Today was the day of the great council, and he was preparing for something he called the pitch. It was his and Delio’s attempt to convince the anax and the other powerful men to go with their plan to fight the Assanaten in the mountains.

“Give me the one with the purple stitching again, please,” Mark said.

They must succeed, Atissa thought, not for the first time that day.

She’d become more and more impatient as the days passed by. They’d heard that the expedition had run into the Assanaten, but that was all. So far, none of Tepras’ group had returned to the city.

Atissa had asked Mark about it every day and she knew he’d been patient with her. It was because of him that she could train with Jenos and the other warriors. That she was allowed to stay in the palace. He even had the blacksmith cast special knives to complement the fighting style they’d thought up for her. She was grateful for all of it.

He also forced Atissa to learn numbers and letters. About that Atissa wasn’t happy at all. It made her head hurt. But Atissa trusted Mark. If he thought it was important, it must be so.

Still, all of it didn’t dampen her feeling of uselessness.

Mark turned awkwardly before the water basin, he had a servant set up. He’d said, it was the next best thing to a mirror. When Atissa had asked what that was, he’d explained something about molten sand that showed your reflection clearer than water. She couldn’t really imagine it.

“See, I think the one with the blue trim works best with the jacket,” Mark said. “But I understand that the crimson is more valuable.” He looked to Elaiadoros. “Which do you think conveys status better?”

Elaiadoros nodded seriously, apparently agreeing that this was an important question.

Atissa couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes behind his back.

“If you allow me an opinion”, the scribe said, “I would go with the crimson. Everybody knows how expensive the traders from the Crimson cities sell the dye. And the stitching is a design typical for Riadnos. It conveys your friendship and how much the anax values you.” He lowered his eyes respectfully.

“We will go with the crimson then,” Mark said. “Is everything else prepared?”

“Everybody stands ready as rehearsed, master.”

“And Delios?”

“He is participating in the rites. He is ready as well.”

Mark looked one last time into the basin. Then he turned around with a determined motion.

“Let’s go,” he said, receiving his staff from Atissa. “I’m sorry you can’t come.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll go and see how Hermistos is doing.”

“There are also new tunics for you,” Mark said, pointing at the folded pile of clothing on his bed.

“There are one or two fashionable ones, but I told them to make you some sturdy tunics that you can wear in the field.” Mark nodded to himself and left, closely followed by the scribe.

Atissa smiled at their back. She knew Mark well enough by now, to understand that he wouldn’t regard this as a big thing. Not even as a present.

She stepped to the bed to inspect her new possessions. She’d never had more than two sets of clothing at a time in her life, with all of it mended and patched countless times. Life in the woods and mountains of the Half-Moon Valley was hard on clothing. Even her sturdy leather equipment had to be oiled and maintained all the time.

Her hand glided over the embroidery of a long woman’s tunic. In the valley, something like this was only worn for weddings or on feast days. How jealous would Ditsa be if she saw me in this? She thought. That was if she was still alive. The sobering thought drove away Atissa’s marveling over the gift. She rapped them up and carried them to her room.

In front of Hermistos' door, she paused. “Are you awake?” Experience had taught her not to just walk in. There had been an incident. Hermistos didn’t seem to care but the servant girl still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Come in,” a voice called from the inside.

“How are you doing today?” Atissa asked, stepping into the room.

Hermistos was laying in bed as always. Despite looking much better than he had upon their arrival, he still slept for most of the day.

“You tell me!” Her friend pushed himself up and leaned forward so Atissa could place a pillow behind his back. “How do I look?” He grinned mischievously.

“Better. Your color looks much healthier now.”

Hermistos looked down, acting sorrowful. “Damn. I wanted to make transparent fashionable in the great palaces.”

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Atissa had to smile. She liked talking to Hermistos. He was confusing and evasive about himself, but he could always distract her from her dark thoughts.

To him, the world seemed to only serve one great purpose. His personal entertainment. Atissa still couldn’t tell if he was truly as unconcerned about everything around him or if he just pretended.

“So”, Hermistos said, interrupting her thoughts, “today is the day. Is the great sage off to make his case to those power-hungry fools?”

“He just left,” Atissa said, ignoring his taunting. “Do you think they’ll listen? The anax and the others, I mean.”

Hermistos closed his eyes, looking blissful. “I cannot say. Isn’t that great?”

“I would rather know,” Atissa said stepping away from the bed. Sometimes her friend’s unconcern hurt. He didn’t have any loved ones back in the valley.

Hermistos opened his eyes and squinted at her sideways. “Yes. Yes, I can understand that.” He reached out to her and Atissa stepped close enough for him to put his hand on her arm. “Right now, you can only wait and see.”

“And if they don’t listen to Mark?”

“Then he will come up with something else that is even more creative.”

“And entertaining for you?” she asked.

“Of course!” Hermistos said, grinning from ear to ear. “He is a sage after all.” He patted her arm. “Do not worry. Master Mark has a plan. You told me yesterday that he prepared all day for this. Also”, he pointed at his forehead, “worrying too much gives you wrinkles. That is why the most beautiful people in the world are mostly blissful idiots.”

Atissa shook her head over his foolishness. “Mark said the sun makes your skin old. He seems to be very concerned about that.”

“See,” Hermistos said. “Listen to the wise sage and look out for your skin. Once your youth is gone, it will never come back.”

Atissa froze.

“What?” Hermistos asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Somebody’s coming,” Atissa said, looking toward the door. “A whole group.” They were coming closer fast and they walked with purpose.

Should she hurry to her room? Her bow and her knives were there.

There hadn’t been any incident since the nightly assault and the anax had drastically increased the number of guards. Then why do I feel nervous? Atissa trusted her instinct. As a hunter, she’d relayed on it for years.

Hermistos looked up at her, studying her face. “There is a knife on the table. The servant used it to cut my food and forgot it.”

Atissa gapped at him. But only for a moment. The group had entered the floor leading to their room. And mistress Bel’Sara was with them.

She quickly stuffed the small copper knife into her tunic.

“You could go out the window,” Hermistos said.

Atissa shook her head. “I can’t leave you alone.”

“That is nice of you but they are probably not here for me.”

Atissa could hear the steps outside. They were looking into the rooms.

Should I run? She didn’t want to leave her friend behind.

A man stuck his head through the door. “They’re here,” he said over his shoulder.

He was a warrior. Atissa had seen him before but didn’t know his name.

The warrior stepped into the room followed by two of his comrades and mistress Bel’Sara. The men carried short swords on their hips.

Atissa could sense the tension in the air. These men were ready for violence. But why? What was going on here?

“Atissa, it is good to see you,” the sage said. “We have not talked in a while.”

“Mistress Bel’Sara.” Atissa bowed her head in greeting.

“Would you please come with me?” Bel’Sara gestured towards the door. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Hermistos asked.

All eyes turned towards the bed.

“You!” Bel’Sara’s eyes widened as her eyes met Hermistos’.

“Or should I rather ask, why are you here while everybody else is at the council?” Hermistos asked sneering at her.

The sage’s face hardened. “What are you doing here?”

Hermistos shrugged. “Recovering. As you can see, I am not the healthiest right now.”

Everybody looked back and forth between the two. Bel’Sara’s expression was unreadable while Hermistos was smirking. As the silence stretched the warriors began to exchange nervous glances.

Finally, the sage broke the silence, turning to Atissa. “You have to come with us.”

Atissa tensed. She’d known that the woman had come for her. Everybody else was at the council which would likely take all day. It was the perfect moment to take her away. Mistress Bel’Sara could have her on a ship to Saggab before anybody ever noticed she was gone.

Her mind raced, desperately trying to find a way out. Should she jump out of the window? She might be able to make it before the closest warrior could reach her. But I would leave Hermistos behind, she thought clenching her teeth.

“You really should not do this,” Hermistos said.

The sage raised her hand. “Do not get involved, trickster. I do not know what happened to you, but you are in no shape to stop us.”

“That is true. But”, Hermistos raised his index finger, “I can tattle on you!”

Everybody stared at him.

“Tattle?” Mistress Bel’Sara said. “Really? That is your threat? You should not even be here in this city. You are the one in trouble if you are found out.”

“If you take Atissa, I will tell Mar’Doug. I am sure that that is a confrontation you do not want. Or do you feel that you have the power to take him on?” His smirk became even more obnoxious somehow.

Mistress Bel’Sara glowered down at him.

“Of course”, Hermistos quickly said, “you could use violence to silence me. But I must warn you. I am very fragile right now. Do you want to get in trouble with my folks if something happens to me?”

Something was going on between the two that Atissa didn’t understand. Bel’Sara had recognized Hermistos, and he seemed to be somebody that she couldn’t touch without consequences.

Her eyes quickly moved from person to person. The situation hadn’t changed. Waiting for Bel’Sara’s order the men just stood around. But all their attention was on the sage and Hermistos now. It was an opportunity.

An opportunity for what? Atissa thought frantically.

She had the knife, and the closest warrior was only two steps away. He would have time to react but if she faked for his throat and then dropped and went into his legs, she could take him down.

And then the other two would be on top of her. They were full-grown men. They would subdue her in the blink of an eye.

That only left the window.

She could escape and run for help. If Bel’Sara was hesitating to touch Hermistos, he should be safe until she found Mark.

Atissa glanced at the window. How high above the ground were they on this site of the building?

“Here is a suggestion,” Hermistos said, breaking the tense silence. “Just take me with you!”

Bel’Sara’s eyes widened in surprise. So did Atissa’s.

Hermistos waved, encompassing the room. “I do not want to stay here. It is quite boring and Atissa is the only one visiting me anyway. Just take me with you. You can profit from my wise counsel.”

The sage snorted but Atissa could see that she was considering her friend’s words. She glanced over to Atissa. “Take them both.”

“Mistress?”

Bel’Sara shrugged. “We can always dump him later.”

I waited too long, Atissa thought. She turned and jumped for the window.

The moment her hand touched the windowsill, something grabbed the back of her tunic and a powerful pull yanked her backward.

She reacted without thinking, pulling her arms close to her body. When the man’s arm reached around her for the embrace, she blocked it and dropped while twisting around.

Coming after her, her attacker already stood slightly off-center. Slicing the knife along his calf made him stumble backward. He tried to catch himself but Atissa’s free hand held on to his heel.

When he hit the floor, Atissa was already passed.

The second warrior stared at her in surprise. “What the...?” he managed to say before Atissa cut his raised hand.

It wasn’t a deep cut, but the shock made him retract his hand defensively and Atissa sidestepped him easily. Now the wrestling training with Jenos paid off.

To her surprise she found herself facing the sage.

Atissa hesitated. It was just for half a heartbeat, but it was enough. Bel’Sara threw something into the air and blew.

A gust of wind grazed Atissa’s face and she thought she saw pollen floating in the air. Then her sight became blurry.

She stumbled backward.

Two strong arms closed around her, pinning her arms to her body.

Thanks, I was about to fall, she thought. There seemed to be something wrong with that thought. It was hard to focus.

Whoever was holding her up seemed to have the same problem because a moment later her capturer fell backwards, pulling her on top of him.

“I guess now you have to carry three instead of two,” Hermistos amused voice said from somewhere.

“Be quiet, trickster!” Bel’Sara sounded angry.

Atissa’s body felt weird.

I have to…. She had trouble finishing the thought.