Alchemical symbol: Antimony [https://i.imgur.com/7omjkx8.png]

In the cellar, the dark of night gave way to the grey gloom of dawn. Curled in their blankets, the children breathed deep and even. The man did not stir.

Andra watched over them. She sat in the corner, her chin on her arm, and watched the grey light creep down the steps and across the floor. She watched their peaceful faces, and how the man’s eyes twitched beneath closed lids.

He was quite young, tall and lean, and his hands had the strength and callouses of someone skilled with tools. His skin was pale, his hair brown with a reddish tint like rusted iron. As humans went, he pleased the eye in the same way as any strong healthy animal.

Though perhaps he was not so healthy. There was blood on his head and face and on clothes that had once been white. His hands bore many cuts, but it was the head wound, she supposed, that made him sleep so heavy. Or he might be ill; there was a strange scent to him, like sickness.

If he were sick, or the head injury was bad, he might die. Or he would recover and wake. Either way, he didn’t seem much of a danger. Weak as she was, he had no weapon and he wasn’t a marked one — she’d examined his arms for tattoos.

But he was human and humans were unpredictable. If he were lasker — of a neutral or friendly clan, of course, because if he were an enemy she would have left him on the street — then she might have relaxed. But he was human and a stranger.

And the scent of the marked one was on him.

What did that mean? His injuries suggested a fight. Perhaps the marked one was his enemy too, but that was only a guess; she could not be sure.

The man’s breathing shifted. He blinked. Slowly his eyes focused, and he turned his head and looked directly at her.

She remained still. Watching.

He swallowed. ‘I know you.’

She didn’t recognise him. He was just another human.

‘You’re Andra,’ he said, and stared as if expecting some response.

She stared back, unmoving.

‘Are you going to kill me?’ he said.

Humans said such unbelievably foolish things. At first she had thought them very stupid. Later she had noticed how they hated silence, and understood they often spoke only to make a noise, as if afraid they might lose themselves in quietness.

This was obviously one of those times. After a moment he grunted and, with some effort, sat up. ‘I am Nevin vai Phylaxes,’ he said. ‘You saved my life.’

This did not require an answer either, though he seemed to expect one.

He eyed her uneasily. ‘Thank you.’

Now they were back to staring at each other.

‘Now what?’ he said. ‘Do I just walk out of here? If I can walk.’ He got to his knees, and stood, swaying slightly. ‘Guess I’ll live. I feel like crap. Lucky crap.’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh. Light — Thea. I have to find Thea.’

He got halfway to the cellar steps before he swayed and would have fallen if Andra hadn’t grabbed his arm and held him up.

He looked at her hand, at the long curved claws encircling his arm. ‘Thanks. Again. Look, I have to find Thea. She may be in danger, and it’s my fault. You understand? Do you know Thea? The girl? In the building you were living on the roof of. She knows you.’ He grimaced. ‘Light, I’m not making much sense, am I? And maybe you don’t know her, or you don’t care. But if you wouldn’t mind going back to your old home, I could use the help.’

That was humans for you. You helped them, for whatever reason, and they said thank you, and then turned and asked for more help as if it was you who owed them and not the other way round.

The man shrugged. ‘Well, maybe not. Guess I’ll manage.’ He straightened, taking his weight on his own legs. ‘I’ve been looking for you, you know. But maybe now isn’t the time…’ He rubbed his face. ‘Sam misses you. He thought you were friends. Shall I tell him I’ve seen you?’

Sam. Memory struck her like a blow. She hadn’t thought of him, not for many days. The human boy had been her friend. Alone in the city, he had helped her. He had saved her from The Chained Serpent… But that had been a strange time. Besides, she had been insane. For a lasker to attach herself to humans and their problems was madness. Madness then, and even madder now, when she should know better.

The man called Nevin climbed up three steps, stopped and turned to look at her. ‘There’s a man, a big Snake with a scarred face.’ He drew his fingers across his face to show the scars. ‘You’ve met, I think. He’s the one who’s after Thea.’

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Alchemical symbol: Nickel [https://i.imgur.com/SX7htXR.png]

After the darkness of the cellar, the morning sunlight was dazzling. Nevin squinted at black and broken walls. Cinders crunched underfoot. The building above the cellar was a charred ruin, another victim of the Burning.

Andra emerged from the cellar, brushed past him and stalked to what was left of the doorway. Daylight didn’t do her any favours. She was filthy, barefoot, dressed in the rags of rags. Though — looking down at himself — he supposed he wasn’t much better off.

The gang had taken his boots, his sword and knife, his armour and cloak. All they’d left to cover his dignity was his breeches and shirt, and those were stiff with mud. He was bruised from head to toe, stiff and sore. His feet were lumps of agony. His head pounded. When he moved his vision rippled like oily water, which didn’t help the churning in his gut.

Andra stepped into the street.

He took a steadying breath and followed. Outside, a high wall faced him. Beyond that rose the leafless branches of trees and an unusual squat building with a barrel-vaulted roof. An old building, though he wasn’t sure which era of the city it dated from. The plainness of it harked back to the grand days of the Knightly Orders, when faith was pure and temples looked like granaries.

A clatter of pigeons from the barrel roof startled him back to the present, and Andra glaring at him. Tangled, matted black hair framed a face that could be human; that he would have taken as human if he passed her on the street. But the small tattoo over her cheekbone was a lasker clan-mark, and of course, there were the claws. It was hard not to stare at the claws.

‘Come,’ she said, from which he gathered she had decided to guide him after all.

He plodded after her. At first all his attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other without falling over. Andra stalked ahead, not even glancing behind to check he was still there.

They were in the Scar, this much was obvious. Nothing looked familiar, but slowly the pattern of streets and the position of the sun assembled themselves into a sense of place. Andra was leading him north, more or less, so the cellar must be down in the south-west corner of the slums.

He watched Andra stride ahead. She was shorter than he’d expected, compact, like a norther but not with a norther’s heaviness. In movement, though — no human had that effortless, loose-jointed gait.

Lasker weren’t human. He mustn’t forget that for a moment. They were stronger, faster… and savage, in every sense of the word. Killers, like the wolves. Yet she’d saved his life — and now she was helping him reach Thea.

Thea. Cold crawled down his spine. Thea was in danger, and it was his fault. He had to warn her. He could only hope he wasn’t already too late.

Andra slipped through a gap in a wall. He stumbled after her and found himself suddenly blinking at familiar buildings. They’d arrived on Wear Street.

Dizziness rolled over him. He held a wall until his vision steadied. When he raised his head, Andra stood a few yards away, watching him. No one else was in sight, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want to be seen like this. Or with her, for that matter.

‘Will you come in with me?’ he asked.

She shrugged.

Nevin braced himself and crossed the street to Benedict and Thea’s block. He climbed the four steps at the entrance, passed through the open doors into the lobby. Stone floor tiles pressed cool and smooth against his feet. If any skin was left on his soles, it didn’t feel like it.

He still had to navigate the three flights of rickety stairs. He took a breath, and clinging to the bannister, began to climb.

Andra followed him in. She paused at the foot of the stairs, then evidently losing patience with his slow step-by-step ascent, scooted past him. Nevin laboured on. The broken portion of the stairs still hadn’t been mended. He stopped to get his breath before edging round the hole.

On the top landing, Andra was pacing back and forth. She glared at Nevin as he hauled himself up the last steps.

Any relief at reaching the top was short lived. The door to Benedict and Thea’s room hung broken on its hinges.

Blood rushed in Nevin’s ears. For a moment the world felt paper-thin, unable to support his weight. A square of dirty window at the end of the landing glowed like molten gold. Andra growled words he couldn’t understand. She sounded angry.

‘He was here,’ she said.

He stepped to the shattered door. The table and chair had been overturned, blankets wrenched off the bed. Bottles and jars littered the floor; a multi-coloured slew of powders and oils had been trampled on and into everything.

The room was small enough to take in at a glance. Thea wasn’t there. In all the confusion, it took a moment to register the crumpled pile of old clothes by the bed was Benedict.

Nevin dropped to his knees by the old man. ‘Benedict? Are you all right?’

Stupid question. Obviously the old man was not all right. A pulse fluttered in his scraggy throat. His face was pale, his breathing shallow.

Nevin touched his shoulder and gently shook him. ‘Benedict?’

Benedict moaned. He opened his eyes a fraction. ‘Sir? What…’

‘Are you hurt? What happened?’

The old man trembled. He clutched Nevin’s hand as if afraid he’d leave. ‘They took Thea.’

The world shifted. Light shone through Benedict’s thin body like stained glass. Dizziness threatened to sweep Nevin away, and he gripped Benedict’s shoulder just as Benedict held onto him.

‘The Snake,’ Nevin said. ‘Was it the Snake who took her?’

Benedict shook his head. ‘Help me up.’

Nevin put his arm round the old man. He was skin and bone, so frail Nevin was afraid to hurt him. He lifted him onto the bed.

Benedict winced, settled himself more comfortably. His breathing seemed stronger now. ‘There was a Snake. Big man. Scarred face. Zult, he called himself.’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s the man. What did he do to Thea?’

‘Nothing,’ Benedict whispered. ‘She was already gone. Blazes took her.’