Jeshin had to keep a neat, professional demeanor as Archon dragged Hazlet the quarter league back to camp by her hair.

He walked at a steady pace, slightly faster than a slow march, yet every time Haz was about to get to her feet Archon would add a step or swing his arm slightly to break her balance. By the time Archon threw Haz to the ground of the command tent, his hands were matted with blood, torn hair, and bits of flesh. He wiped them neatly on a purple handkerchief, then tossed it aside.

"Captains stay," He ordered, "Everyone else leaves."

The cohort obeyed without question or even a sound. Jeshin stood rigidly at attention while ’Solre leaned against a low table, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Fucker. Haz let out a soft groan on the floor and curled into a ball. Jeshin itched to heal her. Or punch something.

Archon studied the two captains for a moment. He questioned Pussisolre first.

"Why is Hazlet bleeding on my nice rug?" Archon asked the Fey, mildly.

"Because she broke your regulations against fraternization." Pussisolre responded immediately.

"I plan to punish her by feeding her left eye to Amputation. Is this an appropriate punishment?" He asked.

"Yes, sir." ’Solre responded.

"And how many locals did you fuck last night, Pussisolre?" Archon continued.

"Two, sir." The captain replied, stiffly.

Really? Jeshin marveled. When did he even get the time?

"Should the same punishment apply to you?" Archon continued.

"No, sir. I should not be punished at all." Pussisolre said.

"Good. Leave." Archon ordered. Pussisolre left, and Archon turned to Jeshin.

Jeshin looked back at the man wearily. Her gut twisted at the interaction. She knew that ’Solre was Archon’s favorite, but this went far beyond mere favoritism into outright disorder. And in Archon’s own words, "disorder is the death of discipline." He must be making a point, one that ’Solre had picked up on and she hadn’t.

Think, Jeshin, Jeshin thought, Archon is competent and never wastes the lives or health of his soldiers. Why would he display his favoritism so openly? Why would he maim Hazlet?

Jeshin just didn’t get it, and had a sinking feeling she was about to get chewed out for that.

"What actually happened last night?" Archon asked.

Jeshin gave a brief rundown of every command decision she and ’Solre had made the previous evening as supplemental context before diving into the meat of her response. Or well, her carefully rehearsed lie. She was going to get Haz out of this, consequences be damned.

"Hazlet found Brig, and believed the boy had potential as a member of the Crimson Throats." Jeshin said. "Haz gave Brig a small test to prove his skills, then brought him to a private place to talk details. Brig misconstrued the invitation as a sexual advance, and made a move on Haz she was not expecting. She knocked him flat and fled to the northern drop camp.

The Ufriq, seeing this opportunity, made an illegal contract with Amp. They asked it to steal some fireworks, in exchange for Brig and Hazlet’s lives. The demon caused the explosion, then chased Haz into the woods where it fought me, Haz, and a civilian mage named Jay. We defeated it."

There. A small lie that prevented a great harm. And a good one too, Jeshin was vaguely proud of how well she crafted it. In the end it would be the words of every person involved against that of an untrustworthy group of outsiders.

Archon nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I’m sure that if I questioned any one of the people involved," Archon noted, "They will support this version of events."

Jeshin nodded. She had already gotten to most of them, and Archon could handle the demon. If anyone asked, which they would not, Amp would say whatever Archon wanted it to say.

"Do you know why I assigned you to this cohort? Under Pussisolre?" Archon asked.

Jeshin was taken aback by the sudden non-sequitur. She was expecting pushback to her plan, for Archon to sharpen her wits by pointing out mistakes in the story and how they could be fixed. Like the two had done for countless patrols, marches, and battles over the years. It took her a few moments to find her words.

"I do not," Jeshin said. Then, without really thinking about it, she continued, "He is incompetent at every basic function of military command, from tactics, to strategy, to logistics. He is an irritating, pompous prick who bumbles along by sheer luck. And..."

"And?" Archon prompted.

Fuck it, Jeshin thought, then proceeded, "And he is an up-jumped asshole that got to his position by kissing your ass, and if you don’t see that you are just as incompetent as he is."

Jeshin thought Archon would hit her for saying that, or order her to dig latrines for a week, but he just laughed.

"That’s true enough." He said. "Pussisolre is much worse than you at basically everything a captain does. I attached you to him specifically to prevent and mitigate his fuck ups."

Hazlet attempted to get to her feet, but Archon idly kicked them out from under her, then planted a boot into her stomach, winding her.

"Which you did excellently, by the way. Dispatching a line to establish order and aid you in setting up a medical station was inspired, it completely crushed any suspicions the villagers may have had about us.

Targeting the Ufriq was also smart. Doubly so since they holed up as soon as they could after the explosion and are obviously preparing to leave. You made it look like they are fleeing the scene of their crime, not spooked by unexpected violence. If Pussisolre was fully in command I could have arrived to a mob, not whispered accusations."

In any normal situation Jeshin would have preened at the praise, but she just felt hollow inside. Jeshin needed to help Hazlet soon, she was losing a lot of blood. Enough so that her movements had become weaker, and she had stopped trying to stand. Archon nodded in satisfaction at the sight.

"But I don’t want Pussisolre to be a Captain. I don’t want you to be a Captain, either, Jeshin." Archon said, finally getting to the point. "I want you to be better, aim higher. You have the skills to lead armies, not lines or cohorts. To do that you need to think bigger. You need to understand what is important. Pussisolre does that, he would make an excellent Major.

And if I heard that lie you just told come out of the mouth of one of my senior officers, I would execute them on the spot."

Jeshin still felt... She didn’t know what she felt. She decided to think about it later.

"Understood, sir," She said. "I’ll do better. Now I need to treat Hazlet."

"You will not treat her until I say you may. Instead you will answer my questions as best you can, and you will learn from this experience." Archon ordered. "Do so quickly and honestly. I do not like being wasteful, but I would sacrifice a hundred Hazlets to train one good senior officer. Why is that?"

"A single correct decision by a senior officer can potentially save thousands of lives," Jeshin responded promptly.

"Who is the most important being in Pleurian right now?" Archon asked.

Jeshin immediately thought to say that it was Archon, he was much more important than the elders of Pleurian. But something told her that was not the point he was making. It was too easy.

"I don’t know," Jeshin replied, then added conjecture. "Perhaps whomever resurrected Brig. I just learned of his revival this morning and so have no information on what power accomplished it, but that is very rare and powerful magic."

"Partial credit. It is Amber Nekt, an aether of Nanaya," Archon informed her.

That shocked Jeshin. There was an aether? Here? How? And how did Archon know? He was waiting for her confirmation, so she gave a curt nod. He continued.

"Who is the second most important being in Pleurian right now?" He continued.

Jeshin shook her head again. "I don’t know." She said.

"It is Holy Yeon, a holy of Gula and former adventurer. Her party slew the dragon Jyom, the terror of the northern wilds, and despite her being bedridden, unarmed, and unarmored I doubt I could take her in a fair fight." Archon said.

This was somehow even more of a shock to Jeshin. That doddering middle aged lady killed a dragon? Archon was scared of her? Jeshin just nodded again.

"Who gave me this information?" Archon asked.

"Pussisolre," Jeshin answered. It had to be him.

Archon nodded in satisfaction.

"Indeed," He said, "And finally, why does this information make your plan so utterly stupid that I had to convey the point to you in this way?"

"As a holy and former adventurer, Yeon will have contacts in both the House and the Oligarchy," Jeshin replied immediately, "Which means that she will request an inquest and we can’t block the request from being filled. My plan would work well to sway the elders away from sending for an inquisitor, but not a powerful Holy. And my story will not hold up to investigation by an inquisitor."

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Finally, involving Amp in the story, even tangentially, is a terrible idea when an aether is around. It would banish the demon first and ask questions later. In fact, it would not even bother to ask the questions and just rip the answers it wanted from our minds instead. I’m frankly surprised it didn’t do so as soon as I came back with Amp’s head."

"Aether of Nanaya, Jeshin," Archon chided, "It is usually busy at night, so luckily I was able to come and fix your complete and total failure by distracting it. But you could have known all of this last night. And you needed to know it this morning when Bread was alive again and everything changed. Because a resurrection is important, and could only be done by something important."

Despite the correction Archon seemed pleased at Jeshin’s analysis overall. She, meanwhile, felt like the wormy dirt of a compost heap. One left unattended and rotting.

"So yes. I will toss Hazlet overboard to please the inquisitor," Archon concluded, "And you should be proud of how quickly you learned why. It’s not every day you get to save a life by being clever. You may begin treating her as soon as I leave."

Archon left.

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJeshin.png]

An hour later Jeshin stalked alone through the small copse of trees right off Pleurian’s main square, fully armed and armored. The Ufriq caravan was supposed to be here. She had personally seen it here the day before, and no one from either the Throats or the town had observed the Ufriq leave.

There were only a couple of dozen trees in the entire strand, but some strange magic warped Jeshin’s senses as she walked between them. She either stumbled in circles, passing the same couple of trees and rocks over and over again while trying to walk in a straight line, or found herself booted bodily onto the packed dirt of the main square.

"Gzoh, you fuck!" Jeshin shouted. "I know you can hear me! Come out and talk about peace, peace speaker, or are you too cowardly to uphold your title to my face? Gzoh!"

The trees didn’t respond. They seemed to absorb all sound, like the steady, patient ears of Archon, always listening. Understanding every word. Judging every worth. And Jeshin’s worth had been found wanting.

"Gzoh!" She shouted, again.

Jeshin wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to accomplish here. Archon had already ridden to rejoin the western cohort and taken Hazlet with him. He said her punishment would wait until after the company had regrouped at Helgvik, it was better for discipline to force everyone to watch. Hazlet would be maimed to appease some shit inquisitor, that much was almost inevitable. Almost.

It was also unacceptable. If the House wanted to maim one of her own for their own virtue, and if the Doges didn’t care to stop them, she would just have to be better. Stronger, cleverer, more ruthless and skilled than they could ever hope to be.

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Her story wouldn’t hold up to an inquest without evidence, so she would make that evidence with her own hands. She would threaten, steal, lie, and debase herself for it if that is what it took. Because Hazlet did not deserve this. No one deserved this.

The Ufriq have to have a way to manipulate a demonic contract, Jeshin thought, They hoard knowledge like magpies. If you can find it, you can still salvage this.

It was a shit plan. Doubly shit because she had minimal support and no heavy equipment; the cohort had started marching south a bit after dawn, still hungover but eager to be far, far away from this place. Triply shit because Jeshin was technically breaking Archon’s direct orders by doing this. She was to help Pussisolre lead the cohort down to Helgvik, not bully him into giving her a horse so she could spend a couple of days in Pleurian trying to fix this unfixable mess before catching back up to him. He had given in surprisingly quickly, and had even detached an outrider, Arda, to escort her.

Considerate of him.

The plan was still shit, but a shit plan executed well was better than no plan at all. The only problem was, the Ufriq wouldn’t even talk to her.

"Gzoh!" Jeshin shouted again. Not like it would help.

"Jeshin?" A voice called. "I thought the Crimson Throats departed a few hours ago."

The voice belonged to a man Jeshin had seen before. He was middle aged, short, and had the pale skin, brown eyes, curly black hair, rounded ears, and soft face Jeshin had seen on countless locals to Pleurian. He was not wearing local garb, though, his mage’s robes were long and white with hanging sleeves, a fashion popular in the Swau Mageocracy. Jeshin vaguely recalled his name to be Ian. She grunted to acknowledge the man.

"We did," she said, "I’m just tying up loose ends, wanted to speak with the Ufriq before catching back up to them."

"To threaten them into silence, you mean," Ian accused, icily, "I know the Throats were behind those rumors, Jeshin. You just want them to stonewall any potential investigation."

Well, Ian’s condemnations were certainly better than the normal accusations thrown Jeshin’s way. They were all true, after all. It felt refreshing to be so well understood by a civvie. She smiled.

"Not at all," She lied, "I just wanted to give them copies of our outrider’s scouting notes, as a gesture of peace and goodwill. Knowing the land is very valuable."

Jeshin actually did have the reports on her. Always good to have any leverage you can get, no matter how small.

Ian looked at her like he smelled a rat, but Jeshin produced the papers and waved them about. The mage sighed.

"Fine," He said, "I’ll let you stay."

Like you could stop me, Jeshin thought, Though Yeon did seem to know you well. Perhaps you are more dangerous than you appear?

Jeshin itched to fight the man, test his skills and overcome them if needed, but if things worked out well she could just ask for a spar instead. And if things did not work out, if they did end up in a scrap, well... She just hoped the man was good enough to prove a real threat. Most mages could not even scratch an armored opponent.

"Ufriq, those who walk under the protection of dead Dumuzid, who is reborn with spring," Ian said, "Please give us council as we have important matters to discuss. We promise no harm will befall you, under the word of Gula, as spoken through Holy Yeon."

Nothing happened for a few moments, and Jeshin was about to throw a barb at Ian when Gzoh appeared from behind a tree that was much too small to concealed her.

"Come," The peace speaker said, "Follow me."

Jeshin and Ian followed her behind the tree to where a wagon now stood. Its door was open, and a small tray was set on a table inside. Two cups of warm tea and a plate of cookies sat on the tray. Gzoh took a seat on a small couch behind the table and poured another cup of tea for Jeshin as she took a seat. The wagon interior was sized for Haco, so Jeshin had to stoop to fit through the door, and awkwardly maneuver her armor around the various hanging herbs, lying knickknacks, and bundles of cloth stuffing the darn thing. She left her halberd outside, it was much too big to fit through the door, but her dagger remained strapped to her leg. In full view.

"It has been nearly twenty years since someone has carried arms into one of our homes," Gzoh said conversationally. "And the culprit butchered two clans before her face was known enough to be avoided. I trust you understand the gravity of your request, Ian."

Wow, the peace speaker wouldn’t even look at her. Jeshin was faintly impressed by the sheer pettiness on display. Whatever happened to everyone being welcome on their path? But she could take the high road when she needed to.

"I’m not here to butcher you all. I’m here to help you," Jeshin said. She pulled out the scouting reports and placed them on the table. "These are detailed reports of the terrain, weather, and goings on north of Pleurian and south of Two Crosses. They are a gift."

Gzoh finally acknowledged her presence. By glaring at her. It was progress at least.

"We thank you for this gift, Jeshin. You may leave now." Gzoh said.

Jeshin took a sip of her tea. It was quite delicious.

"Make me." She said.

Gzoh looked at Ian, who hesitated. Good. Do not give up the momentum, the only way out of this is through. But she had given up her only leverage just to stay at the table. What was left?

Fuck it, She thought, time to improvise.

"Or maybe you can think for once," Jeshin said, "And we can help each other make sense of what happened yesterday. Share information."

"Make sense?" Gzoh asked icily, "Yesterday makes perfect sense. Your soldier got Olorin drunk to steal his fireworks, blew up an innocent boy to hide the evidence, then got caught by that traveler from Joinder and sicced a demon on them. This morning Amber corrected that miscarriage of justice, and so, faced with the wrath of an aether, you try to pin the blame on us by flailing about with threats of violence."

How the fuck did Gzoh know all that? The Ufriq had been holed up since the explosion yet they somehow had better information than she did!

Archon’s point was starting to truly sink in and Jeshin’s guts twisted in unbearable shame at her incompetence. This was an entire battlefield; one fought with words, information, and connections instead of pikes and guns but no less deadly for it. If she didn’t win this battle Hazlet would get maimed, and Jeshin felt like she was facing down a full company wielding a stick. A flimsy stick.

"Actually," Ian said, "Amber didn’t resurrect Brig. That’s what we wanted to discuss, Yeon believes someone from your camp may have."

Jeshin took another sip of her tea to cover her surprise. Really? Amber didn’t do it? Archon was certain that Amber was the one who resurrected Brig. But if it wasn’t them, and it wasn’t Amber, it had to be one of the Ufriq.

That’s an opening, Jeshin thought, And you’ll hit it hard.

PIC [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJeshin.png]

Jeshin munched on the last cookie and idly wondered what was taking Gzoh so long. The peace speaker had left nearly two hours ago to confer with her clan and fetch some people she said could have answers, but gave no timeline. Only that she would do so "with proper haste."

The tea had run out thirty minutes ago, and Ian was content to sit in silence while reading a book he had produced from within those absurd sleeves of his. Jeshin glanced at the cover.

The method of divisions for determining base figments, She read, And examples within evocation, abjuration, vivomancy, illusion, space, and other lesser disciplines.

Well, if she wasn’t bored before she was now. Jeshin was no stranger to boredom, guard duty was just about the dullest activity imaginable, but she wasn’t in the right mental state for it at the moment. Doing nothing when the stakes were so high felt wrong.

"Want to spar?" She asked Ian.

"I’m married," He replied. He didn’t even look up from the book.

Jeshin flushed.

"I didn’t mean it like that," She said, "I meant combat. I heard that Yeon was a famous adventurer, thought maybe you could fight as well."

"I can," Ian confirmed, turning a page, "But haven’t done so in a while. And I didn’t mean it like that either. My wife doesn’t appreciate me taking risks in my old age."

Jeshin raised an eyebrow.

"You must be less than forty. That’s not old." She countered.

Ian chuckled and closed his book.

"I’m retired," he said, "That makes me old. But sure, I’ll teach you a thing or two. If you answer a question for me."

"Depends on the question." Jeshin said.

"Just something I’m mildly curious about," Ian said, "Why are you a healer?"

Huh. No one had asked her that before. She didn’t really know the answer as anything other than a vague feeling. But Ian wasn’t asking for restricted information so she would answer as best she could.

"I like having the power to make people’s lives better," Jeshin started, then paused. No, that wasn’t quite it.

"No, I don’t actually think that. I mean sure, I like the skill involved in the craft, the intricate details of the human body are fascinating. And I love making people feel better. But that’s not why I do it."

She fumbled for her words.

"I guess," She said, "what really matters is that no one deserves to get hurt or die. And healing is one of the best ways to prevent those things from happening."

It still didn’t feel right, but better than before.

"And yet you are a mercenary," Ian observed.

But it was just an observation, a way to continue the conversation. Not a condemnation like the one Gzoh had thrown her way. Or Jay. Jeshin’s heart twisted. For some reason that one still hurt.

"Mercenary work is mostly about saving lives," Jeshin said, "Pirates and bandits kill indiscriminately, without discipline or thought. And if you have ever seen a gaggle of peasants or a levy up against trained knights or mages, you would understand why we are the better option."

"It is not a pretty sight, no," Ian agreed.

He thought about her words deeply, and sat in silent contemplation for several heartbeats.

I think I understand now." He finally said. "Thank you for your honesty, and I will give you that spar. Perhaps this evening."

Jeshin nodded enthusiastically. That promised to be fun, or an excellent distraction at the very least.

Ian must have heard something, because he whisked away his book and straightened in his seat a few moments before four people crowded into the wagon. Gzoh, a Lua man, a Haco man, and a Ukoji woman. The last two carried a large copper bowl with silver inlays, which they placed on the low table. Jeshin had to scramble to clear the snack tray in time, and with nowhere to put it ended up with it pinned awkwardly between her armor and the underside of the table. She felt like a sardine packed into a salt barrel.

"These people now gathered are the only ones under our care who have the ability to perform a resurrection." Gzoh said.

"Olorin," She gestured to the Lua, "is a master mage and enchanter who sought our protection after his stock of fireworks was destroyed. His former master was a well-regarded expert on souls and the afterlife.

Achlin and Thovin," Gzoh gestured to the Haco man and Ukoji woman, "Are Ufriq from birth, and are well learned in divination. They have never performed such a rite, but assure me they could theoretically do so."

"Petitioning the divine for a soul is not much different from petitioning it for knowledge," Achlin explained.

He turned towards Ian.

"I didn’t get a chance to talk to you during the festival, Ian," He said, "I would have loved a chance to discuss the art."

"I’m a retired combat mage and practical teacher, not a scholar," Ian said. "I’m afraid I couldn’t contribute much."

This was her chance! Jeshin seized it. Achlin was saying some polite crap about everyone being a scholar, but Jeshin interrupted his drivel.

"Of course, of course. I’m a healer, you know. I’m fascinated by the mechanics of resurrection," She lied, "Do you have any notes I could borrow on the subject, Achlin?"

"Sure!" He replied, enthusiastically, "They are in our wagon, I can get them after."

"Achlin," Gzoh said, "Knowledge is traded, not demanded. And this one has nothing to trade with."

Wow, Gzoh really hated her. It didn’t matter, Jeshin had what she needed. A target. She discretely reached out and placed a tracker on Achlin, feigning brushing a piece of lint off his shoulder. Let’s see Ufirq illusions beat that.

"Enough for introductions," Gzoh said, "I brought Olorin because you may want to question him yourself, Ian. He claims to have not resurrected the boy, but refused to verify his words with a ritual of truth. Achlin and Thovin have never performed a resurrection, and did consent to verify that."

But not in front of us, Jeshin thought, Which is awfully suspicious of them.

Ian nodded and continued.

"Will you consent to the ritual if I can ensure your safety?" Ian asked Olorin.

"Yes," Olorin replied, "Under the condition that you swear onto a god to only ask me simple questions directly relevant to the event."

"Then I do so swear unto Asarluhi, god of magical knowledge," Ian said, "May he take my ability if I break the vow."

Achlin and Thovin grinned at each other and linked hands across the bowl. Faint lines of divine light filled the vessel and splashed out in waves, bathing the inside of the wagon in a shimmering golden glow.

Jeshin felt the magic drive into her innermost mind, smoothing away her tangled thoughts and snuffing out any whisper of untruth. She knew about truth spells, but she had never experienced one before. Jeshin had assumed that they prevented someone from speaking an untruth, but that was wrong. Before the spell her mind had been whirling with a cacophony of lies. How to get into Achlin’s wagon, how to frame the notes as malevolent, how to convince Archon to reevaluate her plan. How she was an incompetent who failed Archon, and needed to try harder.

But after, her thoughts started down those paths and just... stalled. Got lost, wandered in circles, restarted from the beginning again and again. It was terrifying. She could think about thinking the thoughts, but every time she tried to think the actual thoughts they looped right back around.

Olorin looked just as uncomfortable as she was, but managed to answer Ian’s questions.

"Did you resurrect Brig, the boy killed by the fireworks explosion last night?" Ian asked.

"No" Olorin replied.

"Do you have any knowledge of who did so?"

"No"

"Was the resurrection anomalous in any way?"

Olorin hesitated at that. But the answer escaped his lips, as if he couldn’t help himself from speaking.

"Early this morning I saw several sprites trapped within the tailory where Brig’s body was carried to prior to his funeral," Olorin said, "They were light grey and floated around the room aimlessly. I caught one for my own studies and scattered the rest before seeking shelter here with the Ufriq."

Grey sprites? Jeshin thought, Amp looked like a blood red sprite after you killed it, before Archon reformed its body. Could the two be related? Perhaps Brig was resurrected as the result of a demonic contract?

She decided to steal that sprite if given the chance. Archon would want to study it.

"Thank you," Ian said, "As promised no harm will befall you. I believe you still have a place here in the caravan, if you want to take it."

Gzoh nodded in affirmation. Olorin took that as a dismissal and fled the wagon. He disappeared into the trees six steps away from the door.

Jeshin expected Achlin and Thovin to stop the ritual, but they did not. Ian turned to Jeshin and started asking questions. Oh no.

"Why are you actually here?" Ian asked.

Shit. Jeshin tried to stand, to flee the carriage, but the tray stuck under the table and she could only manage a couple of flailing squirms. Heroic.

"Archon is going to maim Hazlet if I can’t sell a story to him that will absolve her of fault for the explosion," She said, "The story needs evidence good enough to fool an inquisitor. I’m here to get proof that the Ufriq were connected."

Ian nodded. Jeshin reached for her dagger, to cut herself free, to hurt these people. Get them to stop. But it was gone. Thovin was holding it. She tossed it out the front door. Ian asked another question.

"How were you planning on getting that proof?" He asked.

"By doctoring Achlin’s notes about resurrection," Jeshin said, "Make them talk about wanting a test subject. And see if I could find anything about demonic contracts while I was at it. Or by stealing that sprite of Olorin’s."

Another sentence threatened to slip out, but Jeshin bit her tongue until it bled to force it back. She did not need to mention the tracker on Achlin, she had said enough already.

"Why does Archon actually want those notes?" Ian asked.

What? Jeshin thought, You’re doing this on your own. Against his direct orders. He doesn’t...

The lie died there. Then the pieces attached to it fell apart, as if the string of a crane had just snapped, spewing masonry everywhere. Archon didn’t care about Haz, didn’t care about an inquisition. He knew Jeshin would snap and try to steal dangerous knowledge from the Ufriq, she wasn’t doing this on her own.

An inquisitor could not do anything to Haz worse than what she had already endured at Archon’s hands, much less what he was planning to do. He was just using her pain as a lever to get what he wanted out of Jeshin herself.

Archon lied about Amber resurrecting Brig, Jeshin realized, He even chewed you out for not realizing why Amber couldn’t step in!

"I don’t know," Jeshin said, "He doesn’t trust anyone enough to tell them. He just abuses us until we do what he wants."

Jeshin blinked back tears. She was crying? Her voice broke.

"And I eat it up like a damned fool," She said, "I’m never good enough for him, and when I threaten to reach his impossible expectations he deliberately sabotages me."

Ian looked at her with pity. No. Not him. She thought he understood! Jeshin smashed the tray and stood up. She tried to turn the table over, but the magic holding it down was stronger than she was.

"Why are you a healer?" Ian asked.

"Because people don’t deserve to be hurt!" Jeshin screamed, "And I can’t trust others to heal them for me because... because..."

Because Archon told you that, She thought, Because Archon abused the trust you gave him.

Jeshin punched Thovin across the face and fled.