A day.

They spent another full day. One whole day arguing about plans and tactics. Strategies and procedures. Manpower and locations. Words, words, words. Thankfully, Ranvir got a break about midway through when Grev asked to return to the capital.

Ranvir rarely felt the weight others seemed to when exposed to silence. Trapped in a small space with Grevor, even the short time to travel to his beacon felt like eons. He would’ve called it icy, if not for the irony of the situation.

Attempting to broach the topic of him and Sansir only met him with a sullen glare and tense jaw. The travel-space was filled with a sense of relief when Ranvir made the return trip. He took a little extra time, just because he could.

“You look like someone’s been stomping on your lunch,” Pashar noted when he finally emerged near her.

“You would too.”

She quirked an eyebrow and smiled sardonically. Ranvir shouldered past her, nearly bowling her over as he bullied his way past. She snorted a laugh and followed him.

To Ranvir’s eyes, little had changed in the meeting room. People were still gathered, still discussing. They solidly moved from ‘can it be done?’ to ‘how will we do it?’

It was encouraging to see. He didn’t fully support the idea, but that stemmed more from a desire to avoid fighting more than anything. By the time evening rolled around, Ranvir, Pashar, and one of their commanders were ready to leave.

Estimating how plans would actually unfold seemed a toss up when people actually met in battle. A disturbing number of the Sleeping Sons’ leadership seemed to ascribe to the idea. Ranvir really wished his personal experience didn’t follow much the same track.

Still, they’d prepared as best they could. Now it came down to how this Black Heart responded. The plan required the Sleeping Sons to harass the Purists, forcing them to drop the school.

At some point, the Sleeping Sons would ‘accidentally’ leave an opening for the Purists to sneak a strong force through. This was where a lot of effort had gone into the plan. The failure couldn’t look too clean or planned, otherwise Black Heart would realize something was up. There had to be just enough effort for it to seem like a genuine oversight.

In order to facilitate this ‘oversight,’ Sansir would be given his first command. They’d leak his Elusrian heritage, which should bias Black Heart and help fool him.

Purists ‘sneak’ through and attack the school. Sleeping Sons stand ready with their space-tethered to follow behind, slamming into them once they are settled. Apparently, space travel was considered dangerous, they regularly lost tethered to the issue.

Ranvir agreed to craft a ‘trail’ for them to follow once the time came. This should limit their losses down to essentially zero. That these people somehow hadn’t managed to travel worried him. It shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Can you feel it?” Ranvir asked. He was standing with one of the Sleeping Sons’ space-generators, who was ironically a woman.

“I’m not sure what to feel,” she groused, eyes shut tether-sense extended. It wiggled vaguely in the right direction, though it slowly trended away from Vednar. “This is useless. I can’t sense anything.”

Ranvir nodded, narrowing his eyes. Saleema obviously traveled despite being a generator, but this one couldn’t. Ranvir had been able when he was much weaker than the soldier with him now. But as a manipulator, he interacted with existing space. Perhaps it helped attune him towards the planes?

Saleema could do it, but she was stronger than any tethered since the Sun King. The strongest currently alive.

“Can you feel this?” Ranvir tore a lump from their space and held it out in the Liminal, between them and the plane.

“I can sense your manipulation.”

Ranvir experimented for a few minutes before suddenly she gasped.

“I feel it. I think.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He nodded. It was like a beacon, except he’d removed everything personal about it. To his senses, it wasn’t nearly as strong as any personal connection, but if she could sense it, that was good enough.

Ranvir opened the travel-space, stepping out onto the green before the school. The commander followed tight behind him, her bag slung over her shoulder, writing equipment in a box at her side. She stomped right past him. This far north, night had already fallen.

A few of the combat students were still outside. Flames hung in the air surrounding their arena, shedding astounding amounts of light.

“Not there,” Ranvir said. The commander spun on her heel and turned away from the fighting students and back toward the school. Commander Tulaiha was all about business, it seemed. She didn’t particularly enjoy the ‘Elusrian cold,’ as she called it. She was more than eager to get this assignment over with.

The fighting stopped briefly when Ranvir finally returned after almost two days of being gone. He greeted them loudly, then waved them off when they moved over. Almost reluctantly, they restarted their sparring.

By the time he and Pashar made it inside, he could already hear Tulaiha barking orders at some student, making them show her the way to Dovar.

“You can hear that, right? She knows this isn’t a military institute?” Ranvir asked.

“Doesn’t not sound like it.”

They made it only a little further through the halls before a giggling redheaded child, her hair flowing loose behind her, came running around the corner. Grinning, Ranvir swept her up. Spinning about, he showered her in tiny kisses.

“Stop,” she giggled, shoving his head away and nearly poking an eye out. The Menace’s enormous head peered around the corner, the rest of it following languidly behind. The cat didn’t stop when it reached him, instead simply lowering its head and bumping into his hip.

“Oof,” Ranvir grunted, staggering back. Menace snuffed loudly, shaking its head. Its ears slapped the skull louder than Frija could’ve clapped. Frija giggled and kicked her legs, hugging him tight around the neck. “What’s got you two so excited to see me?”

“Are you cooking dinner tonight?” Frija asked, changing the subject.

Behind them, Pashar knelt to scratch at Menace’s shoulder, earning some wall shaking purrs for the effort.

“I figured you’d want to spend the night with Shiri again.”

Frija tossed her head from side-to-side. “We’ve just missed your cooking,” she said innocently.

“Alright,” he said, hugging her briefly. “I’ll talk to her.”

“But can we still sleep with them?”

Ranvir continued chatting idly with his daughter as they maneuvered through the school. He wasn’t sure how she’d known he’d arrived. Likely, Menace had noticed him first.

“We’re holding a meeting tomorrow, after morning exercise,” Ranvir said, ducking inside the student lounge. Enough was there that word should get around.

“Hey, Ranvir?” Dovar asked nervously, peering over his shoulder. The no-nonsense Commander Tulaiha was striding down the hall after him. “She’s saying I’m ‘in charge of defenses.’ What does she mean?”

Ranvir smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, bird arm carrying Frija. “She’s here to help improve the defenses of the school.” Noticing how that didn’t seem to ease Dovar’s worry, he continued, “you can ask her to wait until tomorrow, if you’re not ready.”

“But I’d prefer to get it done now,” she said, stepping between them.

Ranvir gave him a thumbs up and left.

“Ranvir?” Kirs asked, popping around the corner. Frija jerked, slapping him in the face, and gasped. He’d have reacted similarly if he hadn’t heard her approach. Menace, who’d finally caught up after pulling free of Pashar’s scratched, snuffled at her feet.

“Yep.”

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I can find one.” They were approaching Shiri- and Laila’s rooms, and he could already smell something fierce emanating from it. Is that her cooking? He gave Frija a worried look. She nodded grimly, eyes wide.

“I am about to cook for at least Frija, Vasso, and likely Shiri and Laila as well. You can help and we can talk.”

Kirs nodded. She seemed worried, and her spirit felt heavy and tired.

“Or I can take some time now?” he said, noticing her off behavior.

“I’d appreciate that.”

Ranvir put Frija down with orders to make ready for him to cook. He might not be much of a chef, but he was better than whatever Shiri was brewing up. Hopefully, cooking wasn’t inherited through blood, otherwise Frija would be screwed.

Ranvir opened a door to his training space, stopping the sand from rolling out. “I presume you want privacy?”

She nodded and clutched her hands as she stepped through. Sealing the threshold behind him, he took a seat on the loose grain, waiting for her to start.

Kirs met his gaze. Whatever she saw in his eyes, she didn’t like. Kicking the dune, she began pacing. “When I signed up for this, I joined to help guide the students and work on my rituals.” She glared at him. “I’ve spent hours working with students on issues, trying to figure out what to do next. Then you or Kasos take one look and come up with an answer.”

“You’re still learning about braced and bonded.”

“But that’s the issue, isn’t it? When can I do what you do? You take one loooong look with your soul-sight and just understand. Maybe one day I could write in paper what makes your decision right, but I could never come close to your speed. If I wanted free rein to work on rituals, I could’ve stayed in the capital.”

Ranvir considered for a moment, letting his gaze unfocus as he thought. “I can’t fix everything,” he admitted finally. “If you’re looking for another project, you might be pleased to take some of the heat off Dovar. He and Commander Tulaiha are going to be planning the defenses of the school tomorrow.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, still pacing on the unsteady sand.

“Have you talked with Esmund?”

That paused her. “No.”

“Why not?”

She sighed and lifted her arms. “It’s…” she shook her head and let her hands drop. Then shrugged aggressively.

“Do you want a hug?”

Kirs snorted. “Not particularly.”

“Talk with Esmund about it, okay?” Ranvir said, as he reopened the door.

“Thank Nysea,” Vasso whispered under his breath. He appeared to be standing as a lookout, waiting for him.

Ranvir lightly shoved Kirs’ shoulder, which earned him a fiery glare, before she turned and walked away. Her spirit still droll and heavy.