Maggie, as always when walking with him, found her attention pulled to the shadows of thought cast by Nathan’s mind. She wrenched her focus back to the world around her; to the scent of ash as it drifted on the air, the rough texture of the stone as she traced a fence with her hand, the vast glitter of souls in the valley below... she pushed the impulse aside and, again, she found herself going back, her mind huddling around his light the way one might cup a candle flame for warmth.

I know already, she thought. I know. I don't need to feel it again. But she longed to touch him again, to bury herself in what he thought of her. To not simply remember but to know what he felt for her even as he felt it.

He's going home, she reminded herself. He's going home, where he'll be safe. Safe from all this, from the wars, from the lies... from me. He doesn't deserve all this, not this world, not what they would do to him. He deserves better.

She led the way along the valley heights and Nathan followed a few steps behind, still chuckling as he looked below. What he saw floated across the surface of his mind like ripples on water: sunlight glittering on the sea of weapons, the banners snapping soundlessly in the evening wind, the siege engines built with materials torn from the very city that sheltered them. Each new sight pulsed with excitement and... and shame. Each delighted laugh flushed his mind with quiet contempt for himself.

It's like a fairy tale to him. A fairy tale made real, and not so pretty as he thought it would be. It excites him, and he is shamed because he is excited. Death should never be exciting.

And I know that shame all too well, don't I? She thought.

But it wasn't only the siege that drew his attention. Just as her mind's eye drifted to him his eyes were constantly drawn to her, lingering only rarely on her bottom. Should I be flattered or insulted? She thought with a smile as his eyes wandered to her again.

Despite all of this, he makes me smile. He just looks at me and I smile. And I am sending him away−

"Tell-us-assassin-how-do-you-intend-to-get-us-in-there-for-that-matter-what-of-sending-the-young-master-home-how-do-you-intend-that?"

And then there's him. Though her father had given her something like the sight she had lost the gift still had its drawbacks. This presumptuous little scrap of wood and wire was invisible to her: only a lifetime of using her ordinary senses in place of her gifts allowed her to keep track of the little cobbling at all. She loathed Jabberwisp; loathed the way he spoke to her, loathed the way he crooned like a yipping dog in Nathan's ear.

And, if she was honest, she was jealous of the attention the cobbling got.

"Maybe he should guess," Maggie replied tersely, glad her back was to them so they couldn't see her wince at the harshness of her tone. And yet I can't do otherwise. He can't stay. He won't.

Nathan, thankfully, spoke as though he hadn't noticed, musing aloud as he looked down into the valley.

"I'm guessing we wait until its dark and then... well, we sneak past the army, or maybe through. I wouldn't put it past you to mind-fiddle some poor schmuck into walking two 'prisoners' through the camp."

She could almost feel his smile but said nothing, and after a moment he continued.

"I think... I think you'll teleport up to the fortress walls, some dark section where no-one is watching or the sentry is getting lazy. I can see the water moving from here; there's no way we can swim the moat, so I'm guessing you'll throw a rope to the far side, then pull while I climb. From there, we... uh, proceed as planned."

Not bad. Maggie smiled again but shook her head. "Nope."

"What-then-assassin-what-is-your-clever-idea-storm-the-keep?"

Nathan chided the little bastard but Maggie ignored him, concentrating. She let her mind slip free for a moment, reaching down to touch the countless men and women below and see through their eyes.

Baencroft had not been built. No architect had shaped it piece by piece, no stones had been quarried from the earth and erected over years of work. The fortress had begun in the mind of a sorcerer, his name lost to time. He had sung that vision into being, calling up the bones of the earth and sculpting with ancient stone as a potter might sculpt with clay. The citadel and the dam behind it were seamless and perfect as a waking dream: there would be no breaking down Baencroft's walls, no sapper's tunnels to collapse them, no eastern alchemy to force the stone open. Yet for all this, the fortress could still be taken.

Maggie stared up at this ageless rock with countless eyes, dancing across the minds of their owners and stealing glimpses into their thoughts, snagging tidbits of memory as she passed. Here an conversation between two knights, there a gesture from a foreman leading the construction of a siege engine, these and a thousand other threads, meaningless alone, spun together in her mind’s eye to form the knowledge she sought.

The besieger’s plan was twofold. First, to bridge the moat and climb over the river-slicked walls by ladder and tower, gaining the fortress by sheer weight of numbers. Second, to bring down one of Baencroft's four bridge-gates, the only breaks in the otherwise featureless stone. Though built of oak layered thicker than any two men and reinforced with steel, they were not one tenth so resilient as the rock that framed them. While the walls were assaulted with men the siege engines, useless against the fortress itself, would bring down the gates. After that, no matter how high or thick the stone the citadel would fall.

"They'll attack at the crack of dawn. Ladders and towers on the walls, catapults on the gates. Once a breach is formed it will only be a matter of time. Baencroft has perhaps two thousand men on the walls. They face five times that. It'll be a decimation."

"Massacre."

Maggie turned toward Nathan, puzzled. "What?"

"Not decimation. Massacre." Nathan said helpfully. "They won't kill a tenth, they'll kill everybody."

"If nobody’s right, everyone is.”

Nathan shrugged and smiled. "Anyway, what does that have to do with us, other than prompting us to hurry?" He frowned. "For that matter, why don’t we wait until they're done?"

Maggie blinked. "What?"

"I bet the duke will die in the siege anyway." Nathan said slowly, suddenly sounding ashamed. "Why bother when we can just wait? We can just snag a... someone dying anyway, and−"

"Nathan..." Maggie sighed and sat down on the fence. "Look down there. Look at all those people." She pointed, tracing the walls of the fortress with her finger even though she couldn't see it. "They are here to pull Alcrin out of his shell, dead or alive, and most of them will die doing it. If Alcrin is dead when the sun rises no one else will have to join him."

There was a whisper of rough cloth as Nathan folded his arms, anger bleeding into his tone. "Preventative murder, is that it? Whoever hired you clearly has everyone's best interests at heart."

Maggie bit back a retort and nodded, turning away. What could she say to made it sound any better than what it was? She could hear the cobbling whispering in Nathan's ear, no doubt telling him she was right and yet making her look bad all at once.

Suddenly her curiosity, something she usually ignored, perked up. Who had hired her? Whoever it was had specifically requested her, the only child of death currently working with the guild. The Leiga had given only the name and the timeline. It was all she needed, really, and up till now she’d never thought to ask for more information. She knew the Leiga charged exorbitantly for her services; how much she didn't know, but enough that the cost would cripple all but aristocracy of the highest rank. The Leiga preferred to keep her to themselves, using her as a last resort to further their own aims. In the end, though, they were merchants, and merchandise was meant to be bought.

The monarchy might have done it, Maggie mused, but the king loathes assassins and authorized Greylance to send this army. Why bother if you intend to hire an assassin? The Morseran Elders could afford it, but they have no motive. Besides, they're mercenaries and both sides hired them. Only one of the dukes could have afforded me, and that leaves out Alcrin by default...

She shook her head. Doesn't matter. Never has. Only he does. Only getting him home matters. "You know, Nathan," she said aloud. "I still haven't told you how we're getting in."

She didn’t sight to know he was rolling his eyes as he leaned forward. "What are you planning, then, oh fearless leader?"

Maggie smiled. "You know how to swim, right?"

Nathan stared down from the top of the dam and prayed to every god he'd heard of that the wind, already howling, wouldn't blow him over the side. The walls descended at an angle so steep it was nearly a straight drop but there was an angle there. Enough of one that should he fall over he would be pummeled to a fine red mist long before he hit the bottom.

Of course, falling over the side was Maggie's plan.

"How's the view?" Maggie asked, shouting to be heard over the thundering waterfall at their feet.

"Great!" Nathan replied sarcastically. "I can see my grave from here!"

"Don't be such a wuss," she said. "Just think of it as the world's biggest water slide."

"Maybe we should go back and check on Orison."

"Nonsense," Maggie said. "I locked the door from the inside, we fed her and we... and I'll be back for them before she wakes up."

After Maggie had explained her plan they'd found an abandoned farmhouse; Maggie had barricaded the door and teleported out, leaving Orison and the cobbling behind. Jabberwisp hadn't liked it, but it was the best the three of them could work out.

There were no guards where the dam met with the hills. No towers, no fences, just a wall of pale stone too smooth to climb. The top was broader than any highway Nathan had seen, the surface broken only by three bridges over the dam's outlets. Nathan glanced down again, following the central waterfall's path until it met with Baencroft's keep. There, it formed a huge pool that fed the fortress's countless canals and aqueducts.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nathan asked.

"For the last time, yes!" Maggie replied, crooking a thumb over her shoulder. "Fish are in the lake. Fish fall from the lake into the fortress. Fish are caught, live, in the fortress pool. If the fish can do it, so can you!"

“There are serious problems with your logic…” Nathan narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Maggie smiled a little and Nathan had to grin back. “It’s a local tradition, most everyone does it at least once.” she said. “They post guards around the pool, but mostly it’s just stupid boys looking to show off for their sweethearts.”

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"Huh… I resemble that remark. You're going to take the guards out before I get down there, right?"

"And carry your stuff. I'm nothing if not helpful," Maggie chirped. "Speaking of which, strip. Promise I won't look."

"You made that joke already," Nathan grumbled, stripping down to what he liked to call his 'battle briefs.' It flowed off his tongue much easier than undergarments, and the only pair of boxers he'd brought with him was long gone. He shoved everything into his pack and handed it to Maggie. Then, before she could respond he leaned forward and held her close, letting all his fear and excitement flow into a sudden kiss. He started to pull away but was surprised when she laughed huskily and drew him closer.

When they finally parted, Maggie's sightless eyes were wide and her breath ragged. She grinned hungrily and pecked him one last time on the lips before leaning forward to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing his ear and making him shiver. "Race you down."

She vanished and Nathan was left there, alone atop the vast dam with nothing but the wind for company. He looked up and was surprised to see that, just like his first night in Maggie's world, the moon was nowhere to be seen. The stars alone lit the night, so brightly Nathan could see his shadow behind him.

It's the last time I'll see this, Nathan realized. There's nothing like this at home. The skies are dirty, the forests are tamed... there's nothing there but people and what we've thought to keep.

Live like it's your last night of your life, they say. And so it is.

Nathan backed away and then ran off the edge of the dam, jumping as far and as high as he could, laughing as he fell into the spray. The water was cold enough to steal what little breath he had left after gravity had taken its share. When he finally hit the bottom it took him a moment to realize it had happened, the sudden shock of coming to a stop almost forcing a surprised gasp. His lungs screamed and he struggled to the surface.

He was floating in a cistern that looked the size of a football stadium and was probably as deep, surrounded by soaring walls of white stone. Spaced around these walls were arches that yawned like toothless mouths. Currents of water flowed toward them, tugging gently at his feet. There were torches ahead, but it had been hours since he'd seen anything so bright and they stung his eyes.

When he could finally look he saw that the torches were ensconced above an alcove cut into the fortress walls, little less than a raised lip above the water with a door leading into the citadel. Barrels, doubtless full of fish and fresh water, threatened to fill the alcove completely, leaving enough space for perhaps ten people to stand outside arm's reach of each other.

At least that's what he thought, because there were seven people struggling there.

Maggie was fighting six men at once, dancing away from their blows and retaliating with a grace that he would have sworn was impossible. As he watched, three men attacked at once. The first she ducked, lashing out like a cat with her short knife and planting a bloody fountain in the man's wrist. A moment before the other blows landed she blurred and vanished, reappearing over their heads. She drew the knife across one man's throat even as she lashed out with a foot, catching the base of the last man's neck.

All three dropped like string-cut puppets, the last with a hideous, muffled crack that Nathan barely heard over the sound of the waterfall. He lost another moment gawping at the spectacle before he realized that he should probably help and started swimming.

None of the combatants noticed him as Nathan crept forward, coming to the water’s edge and waiting until one of the guards planted his foot nearby. Nathan lunged, seizing the man by his belt and hauling him into the water. He planted a hand on the man's armored back and called for fire, the steel plate glowing a dull red and the water around them frothing. His victim flailed madly for a few seconds and then went still. Nathan felt a momentary rush of horror at what he had done before slamming such thoughts to the back of his mind.

When he surfaced again only one man was still standing, and even as Nathan watched he turned and ran. Maggie made no move to follow, but simply held her knife out to the side and vanished. She reappeared just ahead of the guard, his momentum dragging the blade across his neck. He collapsed and Maggie stepped over his gasping body, heading for Nathan and flicking the blood from her knife.

Nice, he thought grimly as she took his hand. Very kung-fu.

Maggie handed him his things. You have two minutes. Get ready.

Nathan dressed himself, not bothering to worry about propriety. Drawing his sword, he turned to Maggie and tried to ignore the look on her face. All human expression was gone, and in its place was that empty resolve he had seen on the Terrapin. What now?

Maggie crossed to the door and took a hold of the handle, bracing herself to throw it open, a finger raised to her lips. Nathan approached and she took his hand.

A rush of images flooded his mind, glimpses of inked parchment charting out Baencroft's keep. Nathan realized that suddenly he could see the way to Alcrin's rooms, where every room was and every passage, all laid out in his mind like a map.

How did you get this?

Friends in high places, Maggie replied. The waterfall will have muffled the sound of the fight. We should be able to get to the courtyard without being seen, if we're lucky. You can hide in the garden there while I fetch Alcrin. It'll be faster if I go alone.

With a moment's concentration Nathan found he could trace not one but three routes. Two were through the tangled network of narrow corridors marked for servants, the better to move around their masters unseen. The last was a wider hall linking private chambers meant for guests, an almost straight shot to the courtyard.

You missed one. Here... Nathan felt a fluttering in his mind as though pages were turning between his ears, gently pushing his thoughts toward a bedroom off the larger hallway. There's a passage behind a tapestry here that opens just outside the courtyard. In case someone wanted to visit a mistress, I'd guess.

Neat. Shall we?

The ghost of a smile flitted across Maggie's face. Let's shall.

They had only two close calls on their way to the courtyard, once when a pair of soldiers clanked past and another when they almost walked into a small, plainly dressed woman Nathan guessed was a servant. Maggie put a hand to the base of the woman's neck and she immediately walked right past them, eyes staring at nothing.

Nathan was unpleasantly reminded of the wizard's tower. The walls had the same too-perfect symmetry to them. The same flowery overabundance of wealth was in evidence too, this time not rotting but very much intact. Rich paintings and statues littered the walls, gold thread and polished marble gleaming in the torchlight. When Nathan pilfered one of the torches and pushed open the bedroom it proved much the same, albeit neglected. A thick rug was spread across the floor that set little puffs of dust into the air whenever they stepped on it, and the bed’s canopy was littered with cobwebs.

"There," Maggie whispered, pointing a finger at a tapestry depicting a knightly tournament. Nathan pulled it aside to reveal bare wall.

"Uh... Maggie..."

"Out of the way," Maggie said impatiently. She pressed at a section of wall that looked no different from any other.

There was the faintest of scraping groans, as if someone was dragging a fingernail across rough stone, and the wall seemed to melt away. A small, dark hole yawned in the torchlight.

"Ladies first," Nathan whispered with a grin.

"Go stuff yourself," Maggie hissed. "Leave the torch here."

The passageway had apparently been built for a child: the walls pressed in so closely that they were nearly crawling. It wound back and down for a way before veering up. After a few minutes Nathan noticed the sound of his footsteps had changed, and when he touched the walls he realized they had changed from stone to damp earth.

We must be close.

Maggie stopped and whispered that the passage had ended. A moment's search found a section of stone ceiling that moved when touched, and Nathan cautiously lifted it for a peek.

If Nathan didn't know better he'd have thought the passage ended in the middle of a thicket, complete with a few trees. A moment's study revealed stone walls many yards away, barely visible through the foliage.

There's nobody around, Maggie groused. Just go.

"Just being careful," Nathan whispered back as he crept out. He staggered a little, glad to no longer be hunching, and helped Maggie out of the hole.

"Thanks." Maggie brushed dirt from her robes and Nathan watched her for a moment, then found himself staring at the tree behind her. It was ancient and bearded with moss, the leaves a proud fire-orange that was clear even in the starlight. The leaves...

"Maggie, that tree!"

"What?"

"It's an oak!" He whispered. "We don't even need to get Alcrin out, we just need to bring him here."

It's all happening, Nathan thought. It's really happening.

Maggie's slender hand took his shoulder and gently squeezed. After a moment he took it in his own, squeezing back.

I'll go get him, Maggie sent. Keep quiet. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Miss you already, Nathan replied.

Maggie smiled uncertainly and vanished.

Sighing, Nathan sat in the shadows beneath the oak.

"Now we will see."

Jabberwisp? Nathan turned...

Maggie lingered in the emptiness between worlds and brooded for a moment. The thought made her laugh. At least, it would have if she still had the means to do so. In the place her adopted father had named the Howling she was less than a ghost, a fragment of human psyche that survided the unreality storming around her only by virtue of her adopted heritage. Even as she drifted, free of space and time, she felt the edges of her soul beginning to buckle.

There was no better, quieter place to think.

If you hurried.

Misses me already, Maggie mused. God, why am I doing this?

As if her uncle James was there she could hear him reply, his fussy voice every bit as precise as his clothes.

You want him safe, don't you? That's why you're sending him home.

He wants to stay, Maggie protested.

He wants you. This world, that world, the where is immaterial. Rather like your surroundings, dear niece.

It's a bad idea to fall in love with the living, isn't that what you said, uncle? She thought bitterly.

I did, dear, and you would do well to learn from my mistakes.

I wish I knew what father would say.

You know full well what your father would want. For you to give up your place with him. For you to be happy.

And leave him with this? Be worse than ordinary? Never.

And that attitude, my dear, is why you haven't spoken with him since your last little spat. Not that he hasn't tried.

How would you know? Maggie thought angrily. You're just a figment of my imagination, standing in for my doubts while I argue with myself.

You know, child. Of course he tries. All of this you have chosen yourself.

Maggie shook her phantom head and let her consciousness funnel inward, her focus spiraling around a single point in reality: the door to Alcrin's bedchamber. As she left the void behind she had one last, nagging thought.

Nathan loves you, you know, not death.

She reappeared with a rush of displaced air, realizing too late that before she'd left Nathan she hadn't checked her destination. As if summoned by her mistake, just as she took a breath she heard a startled yelp of surprise.

Damn!

She whirled towards the sound, hands clutching before she could even sense what she was reaching for, and felt her fingers close on someone's wrist.

The woman's mind opened like a book at her touch, foreign memories dancing across Maggie's senses. As always, some distant part of her basked in those images for a moment, savoring the scraps of vision that her true father had stolen from her. Forcing herself to concentrate Maggie ran spectral fingers across the surface of the woman's thoughts.

Serving wench... pretty... caught Alcrin's eye... going to him... expected...

Maggie sensed opportunity and then paused for a moment to reflect on just what the poor woman was thinking.

Oh. Oh. Oh, yuck.

Sighing, Maggie made a few adjustments and sent her on her way. If nothing else, her husband was going to be very pleasantly surprised tonight.

Can't say the same of Alcrin, though, Maggie thought as she reached for the door.

The rank smell of an unwashed body spilled out as the door opened and a man's sleepy voice came with it, somehow as commonplace and foul as the stink it followed. Half-mumbled demands that Maggie couldn't make out trickled into the corridor and she hurried in, closing the door behind her.

"Come over here, girl, and show... wait, you’re not..."

Maggie saw fragments of her surroundings through his eyes as he sat up and peered at her, rugs thrown across the floor of a small but sumptuously decorated bedchamber dominated by a massive bed. The woman Alcrin beheld was small, dark and dirtied by long weeks of travel. Even as some corner of her mind took herself in with a skeptical eye she felt desire come throbbing from the corpulent mind before her. "...but you’ll do, girl. Come here," he grinned, raising pudgy fingers. "Serve your lord."

Snarling in disgust, Maggie took the offered hand and bore down on the duke. Alcrin managed to choke out a startled shriek before she had raked her will through his, caging him in a prison of nightmares.

You will... Maggie's eyes widened as his mind bled into hers, memories whirling around her mind’s eye like leaves in the wind. Ordinarily she shut such things away and took to her work, but this...

Alcrin's was the least of the great houses, and he was in turn a small man made great by a mistake of birth. His petty, verminous soul was something that would have met an early end in a gutter if the world was just. He was a coward, liar, lecher, thief, a rat living for vice alone who had finally been noticed, judged wanting, and called to pay for his sins. And now that the lion was at the rat's door, the rat was... pleased. Excited, even, mouth wet with anticipation of the new feast to come.

How? Maggie demanded, curiosity overcoming her. Graylance's army is here, your castle manned by cowards and thieves like you. Why does a rat rejoice to see the lion come hunting?

She marshaled her thoughts into a razor edged with her father's will and flayed Alcrin's fetid mind open, spilling his memories like the seeds of a rotten gourd.

No... NO... Impossibly, Alcrin looked at her and smiled, dirty teeth bared as he leered through the grip of her mind and gloated. "See... girl... come and see..."

Maggie shook in terror and flung the duke away. She vanished, his laughter echoing in her thoughts as she hurled herself across space, a puzzle she hadn't even known was there assembling in her mind to reveal too late, the full, terrible picture.

She reappeared in the courtyard and, not caring who heard her, screamed for the last piece.

"NATHAN, WHERE ARE YOU?"