The knocks at the door downstairs played into Alize’s dreams before they roused her from her slumber. She slipped into the hallway outside her bedroom. Where the carpet ended, the tiled floor stung her toes with the cold. She shivered and peered over the railing into the landing below. She could see Kell at the doorway.

“Thank you anyways,” he spoke.

“I’m sorry I bear no more news Kelesh.”

Alize frowned. She had never heard anyone call Kell by his full name. The door groaned, followed by the clamor of iron as the lock turned once more.

Footsteps sounded and Alize fell back against the wall as Kell appeared in the landing. In the daylight his face bore more color, but he kept his jaw clenched as he bid Alize descend the stairs.

Alize could feel his gaze sear over her with each step. She wore only the gray underlayer of clothing she had slept in, and though Kell had once shirked from seeing her in such a state of undress, today his expression held only dull exasperation.

Rather than face him, Alize traced the sunlight flickering around the landing through the narrow glass panes interspersed at the top of the round room. Heavy wooden panels lined the walls, interrupted by strung swords and tapestries. They depicted vivid scenes of court gatherings, with women in lavish embroidered dresses and helmeted Sargons flanking all the doorways. When Alize drew her finger along one, specks of dust puffed into the sunlight. Above her the ceiling dripped with decaying stucco. The missing chunks disrupted the honeycomb pattern and parts were blackened with mold.

“This is a Sargon’s residence,” Kell answered Alize’s unspoken question. “Granted to me when I began my service. It will pass to a new recruit when I die.”

Alize kept her eyes to the ceiling as her footsteps drew an ever widening circle around Kell. It disturbed her to hear him speak so casually about his mortality.

“It’s a bit big for me,” he murmured, almost under his breath. “Anyway. There’s breakfast in the sitting room.”

Kell said nothing more as Alize settled onto the linen cushion. The tea he poured steamed visibly against the sun beams spilling through the grated windows. Alize broke her bread crust into several small pieces before nibbling on the end. When she shivered, Kell handed her a blanket with patterned red and blank diamonds that smelled of campfire smoke.

She clutched the fabric and stole a glance at Kell. Was this kindness?

“Where is Davram?” she asked.

Kell grimaced. “I don’t actually know. Probably in Parousia, but we can’t be certain until I find him.”

Kell’s tone matched the annoyance of the Sargon guard the day before.

“Is something wrong?” Alize ventured. “With Davram?”

For the first time, Kell let his muddled brown eyes linger on Alize. His frown deepened in a thin disguise of his unease. “I’m hoping you can help,” he conceded.

“Is that my debt?” The notion comforted Alize. If they could trade services, perhaps she could yet obtain some concession from Kell.

“It’s the favor I would ask from you, yes. But first we’ll have to find him.”

The fire was burning low. The previous evening’s rain still dampened her dress so Alize began arranging it on the metal stand beside the hearth. The heat singed her fingertips. When Kell saw her, he pulled the dress from her hands with obvious impatience and handed her a small laundry package instead.

Inside were several dresses in considerably improved condition. Kell waited for her at the landing while she assembled one. She had expected him to don the court’s finery as he had in Venin, but he wore his casual traveling clothes instead. As Alize joined him at the door, he scrutinized her and she imagined him finding a million mistakes she had made assembling the dress. She wanted to throw them in his face, to remind him that dresses would never be part of any world she would choose to live in. They were a disguise, a mask, and one she cared little about.

Yet though he said nothing, Alize could not help bristling under Kell’s acute displeasure.

Outside the rain had reduced to a drizzle and Alize followed Kell’s rapid footsteps until they reached the covered market. This time Alize observed her surroundings, keeping track of the cardinal directions as Kell rounded corners again and again. In each passageway the stone walls arched upwards into evenly spaced domes. The merchants pushed their wares halfway into the street, narrowing the space for foot traffic. Like everyone else, Alize shuffled to avoid colliding with the other pedestrians.

Kell’s broad shoulders bobbed ahead of her. The throngs of people meant they could not walk abreast, nor would Alize choose it, had Kell given her the choice. Kell seemed to want to make a point by pressing ahead, and engaging with him would only give him another opportunity to spurn her. Over and over Kell paused to dip into low doorways, where he exchanged brief words with the people inside. Each time he emerged with the same look of frustration. Alize did not try to follow him inside. Instead, she stole glances into the spaces. Within, men and women lounged, sloven in the dank air. Alize studied one woman, her fingers trembling and her gaze unfocused in the shadows.

The day wore on. Alize made no mention of her hunger, but eventually Kell led her inside a small tea house. They shared a long table with the other patrons and ate without exchanging any words. Kell pushed the food around on his plate and stared at the wall behind Alize.

Her feet tired as they continued their search. After pausing to remove a rock from her shoe, Alize craned her neck to find Kell in the crowd. All around her people shouted and Alize froze as fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her sharply to the side wall.

Alize’s reflexes made her fists clench, already poised for the strike when she recognized Kell. He pulled her into him and she stumbled to land flush against his torso. His fingertips skimmed over her back for an instant, delicate shadows of his former tenderness. Uninvited, Alize’s skin burst ablaze, leaving her almost gasping.

“Watch out for the donkeys,” he muttered before releasing her.

Alize twisted away from him. A train of donkeys padded through the place she had stood. The man leading them clanged a copper bell and cursed the people in his way. Everyone else cleared the path with dutiful resignation. Alize glanced at Kell. He wore his stony expression and Alize wondered if she had imagined the heat she had felt.

Much later, Kell paused before an exit to the covered market. Alize arrived beside him and they looked out into the rain together. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go here,” he murmured. Alize followed him, avoiding the puddles peppering the road. The day had ended long ago and their brisk steps could not ward off the night’s chilly embrace.

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Kell halted beneath a rotting wooden sign that clattered in the wind.

Inside, the thick air clung to Alize’s throat, the smell of comfrey underlain with unwashed clothing. A fire emitted the only light in the room, driving smoke into her eyes until they watered. The solidary patrons studied the newcomers with subdued curiosity, but Kell pointed Alize towards the one figure that slumped on the cushions in resolute oblivion.

“Davram,” Kell called as they approached. “Put down your drink to talk to me.”

The hunched figure heaved upwards. “I’m in no mood,” he mumbled. He flinched as Kell jostled his low table to sit next to him

“Davram?” Alize paused next to the older Sargon and grasped his forearm, “What’s wrong with you?” She had to take a step backwards when he breathed into her face. His straight black hair was tangled, and his beard had grown long and unkempt.

“I’m drunk,” he nodded to her, “among other things.” He took a large swig of his cup. Most of it spilled down his tunic to soak the yellowed stains already crowding the sullied fabric. But when he set his mug back down, he turned to Alize anew. Coughing, he drew himself up.

“Aren’t you dead?”

Davram’s confusion made Alize’s attempted laugh die in her throat. “Evidence to the contrary,” she stammered instead.

“Rehsan be blessed. It would seem there are miracles yet,” Davram rose to wrap his arms around Alize in a lopsided hug. She found herself doing most of the work to keep the Sargon upright.

Kell caught Davram’s arm and guided him back to his seat.

Alize noticed that for Davram, Kell used a light touch and a soothing tone.

The Sargon did not acknowledge Kell’s care. He kept his eyes locked on Alize. “I don’t believe it. I saw you explode! Saabev,” Davram called to the barkeep, “get this warrior some kumis. She is a magical, magical person.”

“I’m fine thanks-”

“It’s on me,” Davram slurred. He put his hands on either side of Alize’s face but somehow his gaze missed her entirely. “By the gods, this is good news. Alize, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“You need to listen, not talk.” Kell warned in sharp staccato.

Alize glanced between the Sargons.

“Right right,” Davram waved Kell off while he studied Alize. “So you tell me, where have you been?” Beside Davram, Kell sat back, narrowing his eyes as he too awaited Alize’s answer.

Alize brought her palm to rest on the scar over her heart. The muscles in her neck had clenched so tightly she could not even bow her head. “After, after the explosion,” she tried to banish all the weakness from her voice. Against all her efforts, she could hear it still lingered. “The Deku captured me.”

Kell finished her thought. “They held her prisoner in the citadel all winter.”

Davram’s face dropped into a horrified expression. He cursed under his breath, his hand falling from where it clutched his tankard. “How is that possible?” Davram demanded, “And how are you here now?”

His response disheartened Alize. As if she no options. “I escaped.”

“No one escapes the Deku citadel, Alize! Any departure would surely be only with their consent!”

“Keep your voice down,” Kell chided.

“She needs to know! There is no safety for you for in this world, Alize, if the Deku want you.”

“Davram,” Kell spoke, “don’t scare her.”

Davram shook his head. “This is why I drink.”

The innkeeper arrived with a glass of fermented mare’s milk, quite alcoholic by the smell. He tipped the table precariously as he set it down. Only after he departed did Alize find her voice again. “You wanted to tell me something?”

Davram had clutched his tankard again, but he fumbled it and snorted, “What is truth, Alize? What is identity? Who am I?”

“Davram, if you want to discuss that, we’ve got to go some placer safer.” Kell warned. “We’re not playing games here.”

“Indeed not,” Davram responded, “if what she says is true. There are no games with the Deku. I should know. I’m a Ginmae, Alize. The last Ginmae prince.”

For a moment Alize blinked, repeating Davram’s words in her mind. He stated it so simply, and yet it changed everything. All the stories of the Ginmae rushed through Alize’s head, the same, but now so much more important. Again her hand flew to her scar abover her heart, forcing herself to evaluate whether she dared remain in Davram’s presence. But he had been safe before his revelation. To Alize’s frantic mind, that meant something. For now.

And she hardly hard a choice. The feeling was far too familiar.

Beside her, Kell sighed audibly. “Just keep your voice low.”

“How?” Alize whispered, “How did you survive? What about the massacre?”

“It’s all very simple, really.” Davram considered his drink before taking another enormous gulp. He winced he swallowed it. “My family has been resourceful over the centuries. Or perhaps not. Anyway, my parents sent me away as a child. And now I bear my family’s legacy. You can see my success.” Davram’s demonstrative gesture knocked over his empty cup.

Kell caught it before it rolled off the table. He placed it upright, shaking the liquid from his fingers.

Alize still stared at Davram in shock. “But all the Ginmae died with the Deku massacre!”

“All?! Don’t be so macabre! There’s me, and my doomed elder sister left, enslaved in the citadel, as I understand. Did you see her?”

For the first time Alize felt Davram actually meet her eyes. Disappointment washed over his face as she shook her head.

He clutched his tankard for another swig but found it empty. “I thought,” Davram’s forced chuckle held none of its former merriment, “I would save her. Take back the throne, honor my heritage. But these ambitions, Alize, they blind us to our own fragility. The Deku will surely come for me. Waiting is a poor form of living anyway.”

“No.” Alize grasped her head. She could not hear these words, and she could not accept this fate. “Don’t you know what soultrussing is?”

“I’ve got a good idea,” Davram exhaled, turning slightly green, “I wish I didn’t.”

“It’s nothing to joke about.”

“Who’s laughing?” Davram leaned forward to rest his forehead on the table.

Alize forced him back up to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me in the autumn?”

“Kell said I should trust you, but Onder thought the prophecy,” Davram stifled a belch, “would account for everything in time. Of course now, it all seems rather trite.”

“How so?” Alize glanced at Kell in dismay.

Kell returned her gaze wearily, “Icar is using the same prophecy to justify his campaign against his brother Nadar.”

“Truly it fits his purpose quite well,” Davram affirmed. “‘When flocks gather easterly in eagerness deceived’ – that’s Nadar, in Venin – ‘with power yet divided restore Rehsan’s legacy’ – did you know that Rehsan crowned the first Parousia prince? ‘To realign the silver throne with voices unabated’ – the Ginmae may have had a silver city, but the actual Parousia throne is framed with gold and silver, imagine that – ‘expiation shall begin in specter immolated.’ Still can’t figure out that line, but then again, no one ever can.”

Alize leaned in to Davram, “I was the specter, you said it and you saw it yourself.”

But for once Davram matched her intensity, even as he slurred his words. “Were you the specter Alize, or did you think you were because it fit a stupid little rhyme? We place our hopes in the nonsense of fools long dead. I control my fate. Obviously.” Davram gestured to his soiled tunic and then noticed the kumis drink in front of Alize. “Aren’t you going to drink that?”

Alize gestured to the glass. “Why? This won’t help me and it isn’t helping you.”

“Alize, you’re sweet, but there’s no help for me anymore. I’m just one man. The prophecy’s a farce and I don’t even have Onder to argue with anymore. Let’s drink, we three, because at least if the world crumbles around us, we can say it wasn’t our doing.”

“I’ve plenty of things to do, Davram, and surrendering isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, the brave lady Hrumi.”

“Davram, I mean it, keep your voice down,” Kell muttered.

“Dear Alize.” Davram murmured. “I already know the future. Just a grim repetition of the same mistakes we’ve always made. I’ll have the kumis if you don’t want it.” He reached for Alize’s glass.

She pulled it out of his reach as she had once withheld his sword in the forest. “No. We’re leaving. You need to stop drinking this poison, and you’re going to explain some things to me. Kell, how long has he been like this?”

“Started after the Temple.” Kell said duly. “It’s only been getting worse.”

Davram caught Alize’s sleeve. “Alize, listen to me. This fight isn’t worth it. It just kills your family, kills your friends, and leaves you with nothing but drink for company. I’m doing you a grand favor if I help you skip the first two, and avoid the gray lady besides.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Alize rose. “But we’re taking you with us.” She pulled him up by his shoulder.

“Kell, tell her I won’t go.”

“Oh he’ll go,” Kell answered as he bent under Davram’s other shoulder. “But maybe this time he’ll stay.”

“I’ll get you back tomorrow, Saabev.” Davram waved to the bored innkeeper as they began to slowly depart. The Sargon mostly cooperated, stumbling only once on the street. While Kell struggled to help him stand again, Alize caught a glimpse of a figure behind them. The woman instantly disappeared into an alleyway. By the time they arrived back at Kell’s residence, Alize had dismissed the encounter as unimportant.

But a shadow plagued her dreams that night. It morphed between the gray dress and a faceless Deku white robe concealing pale hands that flit their fingers and reached for her throat.