Sam nestled into the curved window seat, a cozy nook formed by the lower third of the great circular window. The recessed sill was lined with cushions and blankets, transforming the space into a welcome embrace where she felt hidden from the night and the city outside.
Mug of tea cupped in her hands, she watched the traffic streaming in and out of the Flowering Bower’s front door below; she could hear the sound of the band playing and the guests laughing and conversing through her floorboards, but instead of bothering her, it felt like company; after so many years of living in isolation within Darrowdelve Manor, the constant and convivial noise felt as comforting as the old blanket around her shoulders.
“Come down anytime,” Brambleburst the innkeeper had said, wiping his hands after helping her bring up the last of her meager possessions. “A friend of Furthak’s a friend of the Bower. You’ll always be welcome below.”
She’d smiled and promised to take him up on his offer, but though three weeks had passed, she’d yet to take him up on it.
It was enough to sit in her barren room and watch the customers from her window, to enjoy Liriel’s beautiful singing from a distance, and to feel… still.
Sam glanced about her apartment. High ceilinged and narrow, with floors that glowed like honey in the morning light and walls painted a faded blue, it was an odd space, at once too big for her and yet just perfect. Chocolate brown beams framed the walls and ceiling, and a previous tenant had built a chaotic assembly of shelves in one corner, and there she’d stacked her books and few possessions. She’d bought a dozen potted plants and clustered them around the window, an indulgence of a bed, and a reading chair. The faded rug from her room, and… nothing else.
She loved it.
Had loved it from the first moment she’d seen the huge window. It dominated the largest wall, the window seat calling to her, its mismatched panes framed with copper, six feet in diameter and filling her apartment with all manner of light. She loved to gaze out over Flutic while it rained, or when the streets were lost to dawn mist, or in the middle of the night when the streetlamps glittered and the city seemed alive with wonder and mystery.
The open floor served another purpose; she trained and stretched there, did her conditioning exercises and swung her weighted practice sword. Either she had to be pushing herself till she was soaked in sweat, or she desired nothing more than to be still.
To not worry about dishes and cleaning, about cooking and laundry, to enjoy the blessed silence in her mind as the absence of her Majordomo Abilities finally left her alone.
To not worry about Harald, about his finances, about his life.
To be her own person.
Whatever that meant.
Sighing, she sat back. The skin on the left side of her chest burned where Stetorin had continued coloring in her new tattoo. Another three visits should see the piece finished, a great burning phoenix that stretched from its tail feathers down her left thigh, up along her ribs, to its outstretched feathers up the side of her neck.
Getting the tattoo had terrified her. Sam smiled as she pressed the mug to her lips. How could something be so frightening and so right, all at the same time?
But it was hers, the tattoo, and through it, she felt as if she were taking steps to reclaim her body, to own it.
“What a mess,” she whispered, then pursed her lips and gazed back out the window. A small knot of dwarven traders were approaching across the lantern-lit square, the four of them richly dressed, and behind them -
Sam sat up, almost spilling her tea.
Nessa?
It was her, dressed all in black and midnight blues, a heavy cloak about her figure, longsword at her hip.
Never was Sam more glad of extinguishing all her candles before taking to her window seat. She’d learned on her first night just how visible she was if illuminated from behind, as a group of young men had catcalled up to her after catching sight of her seated in the window.
Since then, she’d made it a point of doing her city-watching in the dark.
Nessa couldn’t see her in the dark window, could she? No, she had no Ability to see in the dark. Then why was she here?
Sam set her mug aside and watched Nessa avidly as the woman crossed the cobblestones to disappear below, entering the inn.
Perhaps she had business with a drug dealer here? No, Brambleburst wouldn’t tolerate that kind of activity. Then she was meeting a friend? Sam had made a point not to mention the inn’s name to anyone in the crew.
A coincidence, then. The Bower had a wonderful reputation.
That was all.
Heart pounding, Sam sat back, but her serenity was ruined. She listened intently. The music and laughter from below, the pitched conversations and the sound of people on the stairs remained as constant as ever.
The Bower was a large and popular inn.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Sam relaxed.
Just a coincidence.
Sam took up her mug and smirked. Why had she even been so nervous? It was just Nessa, after all. Come on, Sam. Relax.
A firm knock sounded on her door, and this time Sam did spill the tea, sitting up so suddenly that she splashed it all over her leg and the edge of the window seat.
Eyes wide, heart in her throat, she stared at the twin shadowy smudges under the edge of her door, distinct against the hallway light.
“Sam? It’s Nessa. We need to talk.”
Sam bit her lower lip. She wanted nothing more than to stay still, like a mouse waiting for the cat to lose interest and walk away.
But that was nonsense. She was a woman grown, this her home, and she’d not hide from Nessa.
Even if her presence felt like a violation.
Setting the mug aside, she rose, and pulled on a heavy woolen sweater that had belonged to her father as she stepped up to the door.
“Sam? The innkeep said you were -”
Sam opened the door a crack and glared out at Nessa. “How did you find me here?”
Nessa didn’t look good, but then again, she rarely did. Not strung out, as if from a bout of glory, but… there was something to her gaze, a wounded, haunted look that softened Sam’s prickliness.
“I followed you here once, a week or so ago.” Nessa’s smile was just barely apologetic. “Vic suggested it. It felt more tactful than asking outright. In case a crisis ever took place, and we needed to reach you, fast.”
“Tailing me to my new home is your idea of tactful?” Sam raised a brow. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Oh come, darling. Engage in enough skullduggery for long enough, and it becomes a hard habit to shake.” Nessa curled a lock of hair behind one ear. “My apologies, though I’m glad I did. I’m concerned about Harald.”
Her words were like a blow, eliciting an instinctive panicked alarm which was followed immediately by a sour resentment. This was her home, she’d tried to draw a line between herself and Harald, to gain a healthy distance from her oathbound obsession with everything Darrowdelve.
This flurry of emotion was near instantaneous, uncontrollable, but Sam clamped it down as she opened the door wide.
“Come in. Tell me what’s happened.”
Nessa hesitated in the doorway. The apartment was only lit by the diffuse light coming from the massive window.
“One second,” apologized Sam, and quickly activated a scale-lantern she kept by the door. The warm ruddy glow filled the center of her high ceilinged home, and Sam gestured for Nessa to take her reading chair as she returned to her window seat.
Nessa took in the place with an inscrutable expression. Sam tried not to read her reaction, to not care what Nessa felt about her new home, and hated herself for the warmth she felt when the other woman spoke.
“Lovely place you’ve got here. That window is amazing.”
Sam forced her smile into a grimace. “Thank you.”
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Nessa sat lightly on the edge of her chair. “I know we’ve not seen eye-to-eye much before. And I don’t fault you. I’ve been… complicated to deal with. Which is why…” She exhaled raggedly, flashed an exasperated smile at Sam, then looked out the window. “Why is being sincere and direct so much harder than acidic wit?”
“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time with Vic.”
“That must be it.” Nessa was squeezing one gloved hand with the other, and seemed to notice, for she took hold of the chair’s forward edge, arms straightening, and leaned forward. “Harald went to the dungeon tonight.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Again?”
Nessa nodded. “I… perhaps you don’t know, but early on, Harald stopped me one night from leaving the manor. He was… remarkably persuasive.” Nessa bit her lower lip, considered, then shook her head. “He’s so naive, yet… since his change, he’s become…”
“Yeah,” agreed Sam.
“Anyway, I felt—I feel—as if I owe him for that. For all of this. And knowing he would probably head out, I waited for him in the entrance hall, and—well. Of course it didn’t go well.” Nessa’s smile was mocking. “I’m not as good as he is at making moral arguments.”
Sam felt some of her reserve melt at the obvious pain in Nessa’s eyes. “At least you tried?”
“Yes, well. I didn’t come here for a pat on the head. You’ve known Harald all your life, haven’t you? I thought you could…” Nessa trailed off helplessly.
“I’ve technically known him all my life, yes.” Sam sat up straighter. “But for most of it that was as his family maid. I wouldn’t say he stared straight through me for most of those years, but I was…” Sam fought back the bitterness. “Oathbound servants have more in common with the furniture than real people.”
“Oh,” said Nessa.
“No, wait.” Sam closed her eyes and grimaced. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. I’m… it’s just…”
Nessa stayed quiet.
“I’ve been trying really hard to figure myself out. And this space has felt like a really important part of that process. Having you come here with problems about Harald is… it brings back all my old instincts to go rushing after him, which I’ll probably do anyway, since he’s my best friend, but…”
“It’s complicated,” suggested Nessa.
“But it’s complicated,” agreed Sam with a smile of bitter relief. “Yes. That. Exactly.”
“Well, I know how that goes.” Nessa sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “My life is nothing if not full of complications I’ve made for myself.”
“I didn’t choose to be Oathbound.”
“Just as I didn’t choose to be the daughter of an abusive cunt of a man, darling, but here we are, wrestling with our own demons.”
Sam went to say something but caught herself just in time.
“What?” Nessa’s eyes narrowed. “Were you going to say something about my choosing glory while you have chosen…” She looked around the apartment. “Spying on people?”
Sam flushed. “I’m not spying on them. It’s my window. Am I supposed to draw a curtain and never look outside?”
Nessa’s smile was pitying. “Oh come on, Sam. Tell me you don’t spend the vast majority of your time in that window seat. It’s got more cushions and pillows than your bed.”
“What I do with my time is none of your business.”
“But my glory habit is yours?”
“If it affects your capacity as our Delve Captain? Absolutely.”
Nessa’s eyes glittered. “And has it?”
“Well. No. Not yet.”
“Yet.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you’ve not used glory since joining our crew?”
“What happened to respecting each other’s privacy?”
“I’ll take that for a yes.”
“Then you’ll have to admit it didn’t impair my abilities.”
“Yet.”
Nessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop being so sanctimonious. I said it myself, didn’t I, that I’m not good at making moral arguments? It’s why I came here. Though perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Sam sat back, pulse racing, glaring at the woman. “No. You should have.” The words were ground out. “When did Harald leave?”
“Perhaps two hours ago.” Nessa bounced her foot. “He… well. Suffice to say he… his rebuttal was… cutting. I wasn’t quite myself there for a moment. But, and I dare say you’ll be mollified, I chose to come here instead of seeking another source of relief.”
“Two hours ago.” Sam could only imagine what Harald might have said. “He’s well inside the dungeon now. Did he say what level?”
“No. Though if I had to hazard a guess, it would be back to the goblins. He can’t reach the 27th, and is clearly unimpressed by the first dozen levels. Given his mood, I somehow doubt he’d settle for collecting Coppers.”
“The 12th?” Sam felt a jolt of alarm tear through her. “By himself? But—he can’t be so mad.”
“He’s got his Goldchops and his Servitor,” said Nessa. “And yes, I do think he could be that stupid. Worse… with the Goldchops, he might actually be fine. That’s the danger in acquiring stupidly powerful Artifacts. Their abilities go to your head.”
“But all it would take is one javelin in the back…”
“You’re starting to see why I came here.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“I… I don’t know. There’s nothing intelligent we can do tonight. We could rouse Vic from whatever perfumed bed he’s lolling about it, then rush to the 12th and just race around like headless chickens shouting Harald’s name and never come across him. The 12th is too large and ever changing.”
“Then what?”
“We pray he survives this folly, and when he comes home, we… speak to him.”
“An intervention.”
“I do love that word. And it would be so novel for me to be on the concerned side for once.”
Sam bit her lower lip and gazed sightlessly out the window. “He won’t listen.”
“We’re his dearest, most beloved friends.” Nessa’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “We have to find a way to make him listen.”
“He’s… you know what his Soul Nature is, right?”
“I heard. Insatiable Void. But he’s the one who insisted on this charter. His father’s letter warned him.”
“I know, I just…” Sam hugged her knees to her chest.
“Just because you’re not Oathbound to him anymore doesn’t mean you can’t look out for him.”
Sam glared at Nessa. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then what is it?” Nessa stood. “Do you just want to be left alone to stare out that window all day long?”
“Yes? Maybe?” Sam stood as well. “I’ve lived a life of enforced servitude. Is that so wrong?”
“Only if you care about Harald.”
“Do you?”
Nessa snorted. “Of course I do. I love him passionately with all my heart.”
“I thought you didn’t want to hide behind acidic wit.”
“Damn it.” Nessa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look. I do care for Harald. I… he’s changing so fast. It’s almost frightening. And being his friend right now is… challenging.”
“You’re telling me,” said Sam darkly.
Nessa raised an eyebrow. “The whole Oathbound thing?”
“That, and how he’s so frighteningly obsessed with training.” Sam sat back down on the window seat’s edge. “Which I admire? But it makes me feel weak to want to just sit and sort through my feelings, or unmotivated when I want to spend time decorating my new home.”
“Frightening, yes.” Nessa crossed her arms. “Especially when you consider the source of his newfound drive.”
“Vorakhar,” whispered Sam. “Yes. Sometimes, when we’re drilling together, say doing the sand bags, he gets this blank look like he’s not even there. And he’s growing so fast. His physical stats have more than doubled in just a month.”
“Yes,” said Nessa softly. “If you feel weak because you want to drink some tea, imagine how I -” She cut herself off, and looked away.
Sam studied Nessa. Her beauty was exactly the kind that drew every man’s eye, her self-possession and confidence only making her more alluring. But it wasn’t confidence, exactly, was it? It was toughness. Or perhaps even bitterness. Nessa was lethal as a Level 5 Bladeweaver, but as a person? She was deeply wounded. Something had happened to her that had left a mass of scar tissue, and it was too easy to mistake that for strength.
Sam pursed her lips. She’d judged Nessa so quickly. Disdained her for her carefree debauchery, her natural beauty, her caustic manner. She’d accepted Nessa’s pretense at superiority far too easily.
Maybe because she herself was so quick to feel inferior.
Sam sighed. “Look. You did the right thing coming here. Thank you. We need to work together to help Harald.”
Nessa glanced at Sam, uncertain.
“Our problem is going to be how to help him help himself.” Sam frowned. “I mean, consider his Soul Ability.”
“Condemnation of Success.”
“Right. It’s not a blessing, it’s a curse. I think that’s how Vorakhar intends to catch him, by causing him to push too hard. If we’re going to help Harald, we need to…” Sam drifted off, mind racing. “We need to stay with him. His father was right. He needs good people to help him question his decisions.”
“We’re not ready for the 27th Level.”
“I know. But maybe for his sake we need to push harder.”
“I’m the Delve Captain. It’s my responsibility to ensure we don’t all die.”
Sam nodded. “And I actually love that you take it so seriously. It’s just about the only thing that you do.”
Nessa flushed.
“But I think we need to blend your wisdom with Harald’s need for a challenge. If we hold him back too much, he’ll just leave. So we push harder, we train harder, and perhaps we add something in the charter to help him navigate his urge for ever more challenges. If he’s going to insist on night raids, perhaps one of us can go with him each night.”
“It’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t collapsed from exhaustion,” muttered Nessa.
“I know. He couldn’t even run a lap around Seasons Park a month ago. But yes. I think that’s it. We’ll just have to find a way to stay close. Make sure our tethers are sufficiently light that they don’t cause him to run.”
“You’re right.” Nessa didn’t sound pleased. “And, what’s worse, if we don’t push harder, he’ll soon outstrip us and then we’ll really be irrelevant.”
“Says the lady who just made Level 5.”
Nessa made a face. “You know when I made Level 4? Two and a half years ago. I’m going to need to do better if I want to stay relevant.”
“Given how Harald feels about you, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” The words slipped out before Sam could stop them. Was that resentment? Bitterness? Or just plain acceptance? Sam wasn’t sure.
Instead of smirking, Nessa just rubbed her eyes. “I know. But he’s changing so fast. I’ll need to do more than just flash him a little leg if I want him to keep me around.”
“You don’t need to manipulate him.”
“I haven’t been.” But the way she said it sounded guilty. Sam just stared at her till she scowled. “I mean, I’ve tried not to. On the whole.”
“On the whole?”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s speak with Vic together, and then confront Harald tomorrow morning. Deal?”
“All right, yes.” Sam rose again and stepped forward, extending her hand. “Deal.”
Nessa glanced at her hand then smirked. “What? We making this official?”
“This is me doing my best to put aside my assumptions about you. If this is going to work, all of it, then… I need to do better.”
Nessa still didn’t take her hand. “At?”
“Trying to work with the real Nessa behind the act you’re always putting up.”
Nessa laughed and took her hand. “Good luck, darling. I perfected that act years ago.”
“I know.” Now it was Sam’s turn to smirk. “But my Soul Ability is Brightest Star - my unwavering light is supposed to guide the lost and forlorn.”
Nessa laughed and dropped her hand. “Oh, fuck you.”
Sam grinned.
The other woman went to open the door, then paused there, holding the handle. “Thanks, Sam. I’ve got a feeling that this is… important.”
“I know what you mean.”
“No.” Nessa glanced back. “What’s happening with Harald? I think this is far bigger than we realize. We’ve a responsibility not just to him as his friends, but to… I don’t know. Flutic. The Fallen Angel. Maybe even this war that’s going on in the depths of the dungeon.”
Her words chilled Sam, who realized she was right. “You mentioned a few weeks ago that Vic knew an expert in demons?”
“Well.” Nessa smiled at some private joke. “Sort of. Yes, fine. He’s quite intelligent, in his own way. He won’t talk to Vic, however.”
“Why not?”
“On account of Vic sleeping with his wife and his mistress.”
“Oh.” Sam made a face, incredulous. “Really?”
Nessa sighed. “Vic can be quite thorough when he wants to be.”
“Well… perhaps we can approach him independently. Ask him what he knows about all this. I really think we need to get some help.”
“Yes.” Nessa considered. “You might be right. I’ll give some thought to it. See you tomorrow morning?”
Sam nodded, then raised her hand in parting when Nessa smiled and let herself out.
Sam stood there for a moment, then turned off the scale-lantern and returned to her window. Nessa emerged a few moments later and crossed the square.
Sam thought she’d leave without looking back, but at the last moment the other woman turned and gave a wave, and though Sam knew she was invisible in the dark window, she waved back.