Chapter

“How much longer are we going to wait here?” Philander asked through gritted teeth as the three assassins had remained on the rooftop for the better part of four days. The time bit into him like a knife, grinding through flesh all the way to bone. His exposed skin, rare though it was under the stuffy Shadow Cloak, was red and blistered. His lungs burned like they'd been through an inferno and his eyes were caked with thick crud.

He couldn't see Metrike, but imagined she fared no better. From the brief time they'd known each other he'd found out she was nothing if not tough. He'd known soldiers and brigands with less grit than the small woman possessed.

A hot breeze blew and he squinted the best he could - through The Bond, unable to close them fully.

The cruel Bond between him and Achos pained him, and was a steady reminder of his stupidity, but the irritation it brought was negligible when compared to the ache of his muscles and body from not moving for so long. They'd been permitted water, but only a sip every few hours - less than he'd had in the oubliette.

Philander felt as if he’d turned into a gargoyle, mounted on a crumbling roof, watching a door that would never open.

“Soon,” Achos said, “The two we followed will emerge. I know the boy is in a hurry and won’t want to tarry in the Market of Dreams. As soon as they exit we’ll follow them to their next stop and strike when we see an opening. No action while we’re in the city. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a bit longer. We’ll only make a move here if it’s a guaranteed thing. In the meantime, stretch.”

Suddenly, the compulsion to remain still fled, and Philander and Metrike fell to the ground in a pile, groaning as sore muscles cramped and doubled back on themselves in knots upon knots upon knots.

“Gods below,” Metrike cried, tears only she could notice leaking down her face. The cloak she wore didn’t allow anyone, even her companions to see the pained expression on her face within the folds of darkness.

“The gods don’t hear much anymore,” Achos said, “I can promise you that.”

“You’re a bastard,” She snarled as she hauled herself up, “What kind of monster keeps us frozen for the better part of a week, on the lookout for a boy that vanished as well as a -”

The compulsion for silence swept over her and the words died in a strangled cry in Metrike’s throat as Achos pointed to the door they’d been watching.

“They’re here.”

Metrike and Philander turned to look onto the dusty street below and both sucked in a sharp breath as the two men - the boy and the giant, emerged, the boy briefly staggering under the weight of new leather armor stacked on his pack, before they turned and walked away into the late day sun towards Helsket’s home.

“What do we do?” Philander asked, unlike Metrike still able to speak.

“We follow them,” Achos said in a dark tone, “And we wait. We can’t strike now - there are too many people. But, if the opportunity presents itself we won’t hesitate. Metrike, ready a Paralysis Skill for the boy. Philander, prepare to kill the giant with as little fanfare as possible. I want him silenced and removed from play. Once he’s gone, the boy will be easy pickings.”

Philander’s skin crawled at the dark implications in his master’s voice but he nodded all the same. He and Metrike had no choice. The Bond that tied their souls to Achos made it impossible to rebel, resist, or even flinch away from him. Until the mission was done, and he either chose to kill them both or set them free, they were tied to him like dogs to a post.

Philander wasn’t holding out hope for the latter. The absence of Achos’ last Bonded servant was proof enough about how the monster of a man dealt with people.

Was he even a man? Were Philander and Metrike had been bound to immobility for the entire four days by the will of The Bond - Achos had no such compulsion. He'd remained still out of some twisted will all his own.

“Yes master,” Philander said and watched as Metrike, still unable to speak, moved the fabric of the hood of her cloak in an affirmative gesture.

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“Good. Now, let’s move.”

***

“How does it feel to be back in your old body?” Mikel asked as the pair made their way through the quiet streets of early evening Farraway.

Although there were a fair amount of people about, after spending some time within the Market of Dreams, Farraway’s population seemed dismal by comparison. He wondered if there were enough people in the Capitol to rival the crowds he'd seen within The Market. He wondered if anything in the outside world could compare to what he'd seen in The Market. He made a mental note to go back once this business was complete... And once his father was saved from The Rot.

“The old aches and pains,” Helsket said as they wended through the town towards his home, “I’ll take them over The Market though. I don’t like going there. I had half hoped Telly would have let us remain outside - no such luck though.”

“The woman, Celine… Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Ah, it was a lifetime ago,” the old warrior mumbled, “She and I were close, but things change. People change.”

“But not in The Market?” Mikel was thinking of how Celine looked as young and as fresh as Helsket had within the bounds of the Market.

“Surface impressions don’t shift in The Market - that doesn’t mean what lay below remains placid too. The Reverie sinks in after a while. Remember what Telgil said - it will change you forever.”

Mikel shivered despite the heat of the day. Smoke choked the air as the wind wafted from the east into Farraway like a bellows in a furnace. When Celine had walked him through basic Essentia creation she had seemed normal, and had even told him she’d remained unaffected… But how was he to know? He wanted to ask Helsket about the strange interaction he’d had with her, but some compulsion held his tongue. He assumed there’d be a time for that, but not today and not here.

“This armor is nice,” he said, changing the subject, “Probably too nice for me. I don’t think I can do it justice.”

It was true the armor Telgil had gifted Mikel was of the finest pieces of craftsmanship he’d ever seen, and the tooling of the leather left little to be desired. Some small part of Mikel worried that he’d destroy it by using it. Plus the whole being made of evil-sounding animals. That didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t about to turn the gift away for something like that… At least he wouldn’t until he could figure out if there was something amiss about it.

“Armor is armor,” Helsket said, “If it keeps you alive when you’d otherwise been skewered, then you did it justice and it did justice by you. How does the weight feel on your back?”

Mikel winced but nodded as the eighty pounds of gear he now carried pushed him down and caused his shoulders to ache like a fire had been lit between his shoulder blades. The books and the slate he'd picked up would have been bad enough, but the armor dwarfed them.

“It isn’t pleasant, but I’ll make it.”

Helsket grunted, “You say that now, but wait until we’re on the road. We’re going to try and cover ten miles a day. That weight is going to pull you back a bit until you’re used to it. If you were seasoned I’d say we need to cover fifteen or twenty.”

“I’ll manage,” Mikel said even as the weight tugged on his shoulders, tiny knives gouging under his skin.

“What’s left to do here before we go?”

“Get food, get supplies, sleep once more, and then leave at daybreak,” Helsket said lightly, “From here to Stennin is nearly five days walk at ten miles a day. It’s as far as you came from Raithson Manor - how long did it take you to cross that?”

Mikel winced as he realized how slow he’d actually gone when he’d set out from his home to Farraway. He’d hoped to make eight miles a day but had averaged five. It had taken him the better part of ten days to reach Farraway, and that pace had nearly killed him. He hadn’t had the added weight of the armor either - the whole thing suddenly seemed more daunting.

“A bit longer than five days,” he only half lied, “I’ll keep up. Don’t worry.”

Helsket grunted and rubbed at the bald patch on top of his head again, something Mikel had noticed him doing repeatedly since they’d left the Market of Dreams.

“You and Telgil were talking about some way to travel to Stennin quickly - is that something we could use?”

“No,” Helsket snapped and said no more on the matter as he rubbed his scalp again while continuing the trek through the town.

His tone broached no room for further inquiry but that didn’t mean Mikel quit thinking about it. He filed the thought away for later, among a growing list of touchy subjects he’d bring up over beers or food. Among them was how in the hel Helsket had turned into a giant, Essentia-fueled bear. The Fire Elemental had been awesome enough - the Helsket-Bear had been staggering.

By the time they reached Helsket’s home, the sun had sunk into the distant horizon to the southwest. The sky blazed red from refracted light and smoke. The heat was oppressive as they walked, but not nearly as bad as it had been days before. Mikel surmised the smoke in the air blocked a fair bit of the heat from reaching them but at the cost of breathing smoke non-stop.

“I hate this weather,” Helsket grumbled as he pulled a thick brass key from a pocket on his belt, “It’s too hot and too smokey. I keep telling myself I’ll head north to the cooler areas of The Continent, but I haven’t gone yet. Maybe track down the twins.”

He opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for Mikel to follow.

Mikel slipped inside and as soon as he passed the threshold he dumped the bag and armor near the door with a grunt and a sigh.

“Dear gods that feels good,” He said as he worked his shoulders free of the knots that had formed.

He moved to close the door but paused and looked outside as the feeling of being watched washed over him. Mikel examined the crowd and the rooftops across from Helsket’s house, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The most he saw was a flickering shadow and the hint of something glittering within on the street. He almost didn't see it, but when the strange sight registered in his mind he looked back to see if his eyes had told him true but all that was in the spot was a whirling dervish of dust, caught up in the heat and the wind.

No sign of more shadows or glittering suggestions within.