"Not to worry, not to worry, we'll soon find Maggie and be on our way. I'm sure it's just around... damn it."

"Are you sure we shouldn't ask for directions?" Nathan asked.

"I know what I'm doing," James replied, scowling.

"Getting us lost, that's what you're doing." They'd been circling the markets of Wyvern's Run for the past hour while James tried to remember where they were supposed to go.

There were people of all walks on the streets, even at night: heavyset vendors hawking their wares, paint-and-thread dressed whores waggling theirs, those inspecting the wares and those with business of their own. Nathan spotted groups of Morseran soldiers loping down the streets, like wolves prowling together to scare off any challengers. And not everyone he saw was human, either: the occasional grint lumbered past, and a spindly shadow that might have been an elf vanished when Nathan tried to get a better look. Other, less recognizable creatures walked and haggled, laughed and argued. In any other circumstance, Nathan could have sat and watched for hours, marveling at the strange wares and stranger denizens of the merchant town.

Beggars lingered in the corners, thrusting crude bowls at passerby and heckled by shoals of children, pigs and dogs. Holy men rattled icons and shouted one another down, a few surprising Nathan with crosses and prayer beads closely resembling his own, quoting passages that tugged at his memory. Wealthy and poor, foreign and familiar, human and grint and goblin, a thousand peoples and ideas mingled in the port city.

Diverse as the crowd was, they all had one thing in common: everyone was armed. Swords, axes, bows; even the whores had small blades belted to their legs. Nathan saw one man wearing only a loincloth, dancing in ways that pressed the thin fabric tight against a knife strapped to his... wares. Nathan guessed that at least a few of the looks he was getting were because he didn't have a weapon.

Surrounded by armed strangers while unarmed and feeling naked for it, Nathan grew more and more nervous with each passing minute as his loud and lost companion steadily grew louder and more lost. "Wasn't Maggie supposed to meet us?" Nathan whispered, missing her terribly. Nathan wasn't nearly as comfortable with the idea of holding Pestilence's hand for comfort.

"She's waiting for us at the Crèche . I told you that ages ago." James sniffed.

"But where and what the hell is it?"

"If you would kindly shut your hole, I'll get us there and you'll see!"

James had been wrestling the cart towards the docks through a steady flow of people for over an hour, making good time but constantly turning and re-turning in dizzying changes of mind. They'd passed the same buildings, signs and vendors over and over again, slowly wearing on their tempers as the night ground on. Nathan consoled himself that at least he was getting a good look at the city markets. If he didn't have to juggle his browsing with the worry a local might gut him for pocket change he'd have been having a great time.

Merchants lined the streets hocking uncountable goods and services, all supposedly the very best; weapons and armor, bolts of cloth, jewelry, medicine, food and board, pleasurable company… and goats. For some reason Nathan couldn't fathom, hordes and hordes of goats.

Shouting just as loudly were the men and women offering themselves: tinkers, tailors, shipwrights, carpenters, artisans, wyvern-tamers, sword-eaters, jugglers and grint-wrestlers.

"Fresh caught fish, netted from the sea this day! Big and small, sweet and fresh, choice fish!"

"Spices! Rarest spices from across the seas, brought past serpent and storm for your pleasure!"

"Fae woodcarvings! Carvings from the Weymaerii, life and limb risked to bring you such beauty! Blood pine woodcarvings, blood pine logs, burn through the winter!"

"Morseran-forged weapons, iron and Morseran steel both! Morseran plate, straight from Jungston herself! Finest blades in the world, best armor to be found... You lad! Step down here and try for a blade! Disarm my man here and you keep the prize!"

Nathan felt a splinter of ice dance along his spine as he realized the man was shouting at him, and an entire pond's worth of it when he realized James had stopped the cart.

"What the shit?" Nathan hissed.

"You might win a free sword!" James chirped as he plucked Nathan's guitar case away.

"What happened to finding Maggie and being on our way out of here?!"

"I need a break," sighed James, eying a stall stocked with little palm-sized pies. "I'll make you a deal. Give them a show and I'll ask for directions when you finish."

"A show? Look at him!" Nathan pointed at the vendor's assistant; a burly, wisp-bearded hulk holding what looked like a sharpened cricket bat made of steel. "He'll knock my head into the harbor with that thing!"

"Assert yourself," purred the aspect, and then shoved him out of the cart and into the vendor's arms.

"Oho, and a brave lad he is! Come all, you shall see Morseran steel at work." The man took Nathan's shoulders and hauled him into the center of a sudden circle of observers. "Tell us: have you much skill with a blade, lad?"

"Uh... a little?"

Grinning through a sparse collection of teeth, the vendor laughed. "Modesty, modesty. Well, we shall see soon enough!" He pulled a sword from the depths of his shop and offered Nathan the handle. "Tell us what you think, boy."

Beautiful, Nathan thought as he drew the weapon from its sheath. The sliver-black blade was long and curved, balanced and slim, almost exactly three feet long but little wider than his thumb. It was wickedly sharp along one edge, chisel-pointed and widened slightly at the tip. The handle, little more than a broadening of the blade barely enough to fit two hands, was molded with the suggestion of long, sweeping wings that ended with a hawk's head, beak wide in a defiant screech. The wingtips came forward and met to form the shearing-guard of the blade.

Unlike many of the other weapons in the vendor's stall this showed no signs of a hammer or tooling of any kind. In fact... Nathan looked closely. My god. It's one solid piece of metal.

"It's a beautiful weapon," he said.

"What is that, boy?" said the vendor in a half-shout. "Speak up!"

"It's beautiful," Nathan said again, and flicked the sword through the air a few times. He'd heard the phrase 'like a willow switch' a few times but found the expression utterly inadequate when put to the weapon he was holding. Compared to Renal's sword this was a handful of air and smoke. He let the weapon dance a moment more, marveling how warm the metal was in his hands, and then saw the hulk waiting with his cricket sword grinning across the circle.

Oh. Yeah. Nathan turned to the vendor. "So... um... I beat him, and I keep the sword?"

"Ye cannot beat me," grunted the hulk, but the vendor smiled. "Disarm him, boy, and you can keep it. You have my word."

With a bellowing roar, the hulk suddenly stampeded toward him, cricket sword raised, and in the flickering light of the torches Nathan noticed chains linking the weapon to the hulk's hands.

Nathan had time for an unsurprised yup before the weapon came whistling toward his head. Without thinking he tightened his hands and drove the sword into a high slash, not trying to block but flowing into the hulk's swing and past it, pushing the heavy weapon aside with his lighter one. The hulk stepped back and held up his sword, sporting a new notch, and the vendor started shouting again.

"You see! Not a mark on the Morseran blade, while the iron is badly notched! Have I any takers?" The merchant made to pluck the sword from Nathan's hands but Nathan danced away.

"Hold on! What about the fight?"

The vendor stared at Nathan while the crowd chuckled and thickened. "You... lad, you cannot mean..."

"I do." A devil-may-care insanity had taken hold. Calculations whirred through Nathan's head as he smiled a toothy grin of his own. That big moose is slow with that thing of his. Given how deep that swing went into his sword, if I can get the chains... But his fingers... Nathan looked at the hulk and the man grinned like a crocodile. To hell with his fingers, Nathan's conscience snarled, make a pun of him. "You said to disarm him, yes? I haven't even tried."

The vendor stared a moment more and then his eyes narrowed under his silky, feathered hat. "So be it."

The hulk laughed. "At last, a fight. Too many shows."

"Nathan, you aren't going to cut his arms off, are you?" James peeked head and shoulders over the crowd, frowning slightly around a mouthful of pie. "That would be in bad taste."

"Shouldn't you be getting directions?" Nathan yelled back as the hulk started circling. He didn't hear the aspect's reply as the hulk spat and lunged, and 'like a willow-switch' was revisited in a way not to Nathan's liking.

The cricket sword cracked through the air like a bullet. Nathan barely managed to get his guard up, this time catching the blow on the tip of the sword. His wrists bent like twigs, nearly snapping under the weight of the strike as he barely managed to keep hold of his weapon.

That was only the first attack. A storm of thrusts and swings followed, and Nathan managed to only barely evade being carved like a watermelon. Minutes passed like seconds until the sword was almost too heavy to hold. Nathan felt as though he was moving underwater. Whenever he swung, not at the chains but simply to win a moment of space, the hulk contemptuously batted at the sword just hard enough to judder his arms without knocking the weapon out of Nathan's hands. He's having fun.

The hulk thrust at Nathan's chest and he spun to the side, barely dodging the blow as the crowd gasped. And only because he let me. Nathan knew that he was meant to be getting angry, but he was too caught up in survival to bother. "Come on!" jeered the hulk as he swung at Nathan's feet, making him stutter-step and nearly fall over. "Fight back, boy!"

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The cricket sword swung up and blunted Nathan's cheek almost exactly where Renal had cut him, cracking open the scar. He rocked violently under the blow as the hulk laughed, a few members of the crowd laughing with him.

"Okay..." Nathan's fingers tightened on the hilt as waves of heat rippled the air around him. Nathan braced himself, glaring at the hulk. "Try that again, tough guy."

The cricket sword whistled towards his face again. This time Nathan crouched and swung full into the blow, pushing all his fury and exhaustion into the weapon in his hands. Suddenly the red-white of iron drawn from a furnace, Nathan's blade crashed into the hulk's with a sizzling chime of light and heat. The cricket sword shattered, fire-edged pieces scattering like broken glass into the screaming crowd.

Nathan held the sword's tip inches from the hulk's chin and watched scraps of beard sizzle. "We done?"

When the hulk didn't answer, Nathan glanced down in time to see a dark patch slowly spread over the man's crotch.

"Guess so." Nathan turned to leave but the vendor held up a hand. "Do you intend to pay for the sword, boy?"

Nathan eyed the hot steel in his hand and the silent, staring crowd, then turned back to the salesman. "You serious? I won, didn't I?"

The vendor looked nervous but crossed his arms. "With fae magic, I don’t doubt. That blade is worth twenty gold marks at least, boy. It is not something I intend to give away. Hand it over before I call the city watch."

James bloomed from the shadows at the man's shoulder and cradled him in his arms, whispering in his ear. The vendor went pale and hurried into his shop, though not before handing James a sheath and his hat, the latter of which the aspect gamely perched on his head.

"What did you say to him?" Nathan asked James as the aspect hopped back into the cart.

"I told him you'd won, fair and square, and that I wanted his hat." James tossed Nathan the sheath, then winked and adjusted the hat, a shapeless bag of yellow silk with a riot of feathers tucked in the brim. "What did you think I said?"

"Um... not that." Nathan considered the still-hot sword in his hand. "Er... how..."

"Oh, gracious. Hand it over." Nathan gaped as the aspect calmly took the weapon in hand and ran his palm down the blade. "You are supposed to be the artificer, you know." There was a hideous sizzling sound and the sword cooled immediately, though odd stains licked over bits of the blade. James hummed contentedly as he gave back the sword, his hands perfectly fine, and frowned slightly when he noticed Nathan staring. "What?"

"Nothing." He climbed up into the cart and started wiping off the blade with a bit of rag. James flicked the mule into motion, then handed Nathan a pie. "Here. They're quite good."

Nathan spent a long moment considering the wisdom of eating something handed him by Pestilence, but then the scent of apples rose from the little pastry. He dug in without a second thought, muttering around a mouthful of heaven "How about those directions?"

"Oh... oh bother. You know, I..." James peered into the swarm of people that had flowed around the cart.

"You!" He smiled broadly and reached out, grabbing a youngster by the scruff of the neck and hauling him into the air. The boy was scrawny, about ten years old, and reacted with a ferocity that would have shamed cats. Hissing, the urchin’s hand dipped into a pocket and reappeared with a small knife, jabbing it at the aspect. Nathan dropped the pie and scrambled to help but James calmly plucked the knife from the boy's hand, tossed it into the back of the cart, and then addressed his prisoner as though nothing had happened. "My good boy, might I−"

"Lemmegolemmegoyoubadmanhelphelphelp..."

Jabberwisp could take lessons from this little speck, Nathan thought as James frowned and clamped his free hand down on the boy's mouth, ignoring the boy's flailing limbs. "If you please. You're one of the Crèche children, aren't you?" He nodded at a crooked cross embroidered on the boy's tunic. "We are looking for Maggie. Take us there and you may have a silver note."

The boy went still and pointed down a street to the right. James smiled and set the youngster down on his lap, then steered the mule that way.

"Thank you," Nathan said shakily, unnerved by the calm sociopathy of the exchange. James beamed as though nothing had happened, and Nathan slowly shook his head. God save me, I'm in the hands of lunatics. Shrugging, he resumed cleaning his new sword, forcing himself not to think about what the stains on it might be.

The urchin directed them to an orphanage nestled between the docks and the bank of a small river. Lovingly tended plants of all descriptions shrouded the walls of the place. Playing amidst the moon-dappled greenery were gaggles of children dressed almost exactly like the boy James had snatched up, each marked with a crooked cross and the watchful supervision of a grandmotherly old matron.

Their guide had never said a word, simply pointing their way while staring steadily at James. The moment the orphanage was in sight he leapt from the cart and scurried to the old woman's side, tugging at her skirts and whispering urgently.

"Hello again, Gran!" James called cheerily as he hopped down from the cart. "Is Maggie he..." he trailed off as the matron squinted at him. Her glare curdled Nathan's blood and he wasn't even on the receiving end.

"Jon tells me you promised him a silver to guide you here. Where's the coin, James?"

"He would have left us had I paid early, and I don't make it a habit of paying pickpockets," James replied curtly. He plucked a coin from the air and rolled it through his fingers, but made no move to hand it over. "He should have checked my sleeves."

The old woman cursed and flicked a hand at the boy, who fled into the orphanage. She gave a cough and the rest of the children followed Jon inside. James tossed the coin to her but it vanished halfway to the old woman's hand.

"Not paying with conjured money again, are you?" A familiar voice chuckled. Nathan turned to see Maggie sitting in the cart beside him, rolling the coin through her fingers exactly as James had earlier. She flowed into Nathan's arms, hugging him tightly enough to crack ribs. He returned the hug, unable to laugh through her grip. I missed you flashed through his mind, whether his words or hers Nathan couldn't tell.

"And are you going to kiss him right in front of your poor uncle, in addition to insulting my dignity with such baseless accusations as fake coin?"

Nathan could feel the blush on her cheek before she hastily clambered down from the cart and hugged the scowling aspect. "Thank you, uncle."

"Maggie," sighed Gran. "The coin?"

Maggie mock-frowned at her over James' shoulder and flipped the money towards the old woman, who weighed it before pocketing the coin. "Honestly, Gran," Maggie chuckled. "Do I give so little that you must scrape for every copper?"

"Hardly," the matron sniffed, uncannily like James. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Nathan asked as he leapt down from the cart "and why has no one introduced me−"

"You are Nathan Seldon of the gray eyes, sweet smile, and difficult manner," matter-of-facted Gran. "She has been nattering about you since she arrived. I raised this child practically on my own: more than ten years under my roof and she is still scatterbrained as the little girl who was always begging me for 'Bogs Booney.'" She turned and started through the door. "I must put the children to bed. Maggie, show them to the larder and fetch them supper." She scowled at James over her shoulder as she vanished. "You know the way, I should think."

Nathan stared after the old woman for a moment and then turned to Maggie, snickering. "She raised you? No wonder you turned out so well."

Before Maggie could respond James brushed past them both. "Yes-yes, quite-quite, now I insist on being fed. Maggie, if you please..." his voice faded as he disappeared into the orphanage. Nathan smiled sweetly and offered Maggie his elbow. "Shall we?"

She took his arm, swatting him first. "Missed you too, jackass."

Soon the three of them were gathered at the corner of the kitchen table, trading stories over dinner. Nathan was in heaven: cobblings had strange ideas about food. The cart had been packed with nothing but water, hardtack, and a kind of sweetbread that made his teeth ache and his head reel. By comparison, the orphanage had a better selection than some grocery stores.

"Jesu." Maggie whispered as she took Nathan's maimed hand in hers. "Your face, your back... your hand..."

"I'd say I've had worse, but... well, I haven't." Nathan shivered. His fiery nightmares hadn’t so much stopped as been replaced by shadows with burning knives, hissing questions until they died. He would wake wondering whether the screams still ringing his ears were theirs or his own.

"Cain patched me up. As for the finger..." Nathan shrugged. "It's only really inconvenient when I try to pick my nose."

James smiled around a wheel of cheese he was inspecting with his uvula. "I always use my index finger. More muscle."

Nathan stared at the aspect for a moment and said nothing.

"So..." Maggie ventured. "Wizard, huh? How about that?"

"Don't call me that." Nathan said. "I'm an artificer."

"A powerful one, unless I miss my guess," James quipped past a mouthful of cheese. "Show her your balls."

Nathan blinked, sighed, and put the little iron spheres in her hand. Maggie ran her hands over them. "You did this?"

"Yeah. Belias said they were perfect."

"They are," Maggie agreed, but James scoffed. "Nonsense. they've got to have fingerprints or some such..." He leaned forward and snatched one, eyes widening after a moment. "Oh... my."

"Yeah," Nathan said again, a little smugly this time. "It took a good ten minutes though, and only after I turned the metal into a little puddle. Which begs the question," he brought the Morseran sword up on the table. "Why this didn't melt during the duel."

Maggie probed the sword with her fingers. "You got a Morseran sword? How? The only way to get one is to pay a fortune or kill the owner, and..." Her eyes widened. "Nathan, did you beat a Morseran in a duel?"

"Nope," Nathan replied, vaguely flattered by her assumption. "I..." he glanced at James. "It's your fault. You tell her."

The aspect shrugged. "Well, we got lost−"

"You got lost." interrupted Nathan.

"I got lost," James conceded, "and tired."

"You don't get tired," Maggie argued.

"How am I going to finish the story if you both continue to interrupt?" hissed James. "I got lost and wanted to eat something. A vendor called Nathan out to demonstrate his merchandise; smith work from Jungston, including Morseran steel. Told him that if Nathan disarmed his aide he could keep the sword." He bit into his cheese and gestured for Nathan to continue.

"It was a trick, naturally. The guy's sword was chained to his hands. But he was an asshole, so I..." He wriggled his fingers in the classic 'spooky' gesture. "I suppose you could say I cheated."

Maggie frowned. "What exactly happened? Did you melt his sword?"

"He turned his own white-hot and then cut the aide's blade to pieces." James supplied. "The vendor tried to back out of the deal, and I... persuaded him otherwise." He smiled. "And received a lovely hat in the bargain."

"I don't want to know," Maggie muttered.

"But here's the thing," Nathan continued. "Why didn't the sword melt into slag? I mean, everything else exploded or melted. I haven't figured out how to... limit the flow, I guess."

"Maybe you limited the flow without thinking about it," suggested Maggie.

"I-have-an-answer-young-master-if-I-may..."

They all jumped in surprise. It didn't take Nathan long to find the source of the voice: a wicker snake came slithering out of his guitar case and he started laughing. "J! Off sulking, huh?" He seized the little cobbling and drew him into a hug.

Jabberwisp shivered into recognizable shape and started wriggling out of Nathan's arms. "Young-master-plea... Young master, you are breaking my twigs."

"Oh! Sorry..." Nathan gently placed Jabberwisp on the table. "Maggie, this is Jabberwisp. He's a cobbling. James, you met him already."

"Yes," sighed James. "Distrustful little gnat."

Maggie held out a cautious hand. "I suppose I should thank you for saving Nathan, Mr. Jabberwisp..."

The cobbling paid her no mind, skittering over to the sword. "This is Morseran steel, young master. It does not−"

"J," Nathan chided, crossing his arms. "There's a lady present."

Jabberwisp paused, then turned to Maggie and bowed deeply. "Apologies, miss. It has been some time since I had to observe courtesies." Without waiting for a response, the cobbling turned away. Maggie scowled but said nothing. "As I was saying, young master..."

"J, what are you doing here?"

"I..." The cobbling hunched in on himself. "Young master, it seemed irresponsible to leave you unattended while your abilities developed, no matter what Belias and the aspect," Jabberwisp turned and bowed to James "decided. Being small and unobtrusive, I thought it best I... stow away, and after the events of this day it seems quite prudent indeed. Had that sword been common iron it would simply have melted and that man might well have killed you."

"Well, Nathan will be gone soon anyway." Maggie said waspishly. "And I won’t let him run around risking his life in the meantime."

"Gone? I do not understand."

"I'm sending him home."

Jabberwisp turned to Nathan, twigs creaking. "Young-master-is... is this true? Are you going away?"

Dammit, Maggie. Nathan fumbled for something to say and thumped down into his seat. "I don't know how or when, but soon. The next person... when Maggie..." He sighed and raised his arms helplessly. "J, I... my being here is an accident, I... I don't belong here."

The cobbling rolled forward, and Nathan could see through the makeshift body of twigs to the flickering white gem at Jabberwisp's core. It shifted slightly, orienting like an eye on Nathan's face. "But then... young master, where do you belong?"

Nathan couldn't answer him.