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Chapter Text

Kir set Anur and Solaris’ mugs back to steaming as he sipped his own tea. Neither of them had taken so much as a sip after their first, instead falling straight into a debate on the relative merits of regional variations on spice-cake recipes. Anur was unsurprisingly partial to the denser version Kir had first introduced him to – it was more common in the north, but especially within the Sunsguard. Solaris seemed to have a strong preference for the versions with a heavier ginger flavor, which was honestly bizarre as most ginger came through Ruvan, and from what he remembered she had never been stationed within even a week’s travel of Ruvan.

Finally there was a pause he could take advantage of, and he said briskly, “The clear solution is to arrange a tasting, and enlist either Kari or Hansa to bring the freshest possible sample of each version, then have an immediate and direct comparison. Then you can each have the most accurate opinion possible and agree to disagree.”

“We might not end up disagreeing!” Solaris protested, smiling as she glanced Hansa’s way and asked, “Thoughts, Hansa?”

:If it means you two will never have this argument again, I will consider it,: the Cat said, staring at her flatly.

“Never have this argument again? I think we can agree to that,” Anur said cheerfully, picking up his mug and humming happily as he sipped it, “Thanks for keeping my tea warm, Kir.”

“If I had let it cool you would have just asked me to warm it up anyway,” Kir replied dryly.

“You could have said no,” Solaris pointed out.

“I wouldn’t have,” Kir shrugged, redirecting with, “The debate is at least postponed?”

“Fair enough,” Solaris allowed, laughing quietly, “Apologies for boring you, brother! Can I take Anur’s willingness to engage in this debate instead of immediately requesting writs of execution as a sign this visit went well?”

“I would never ask for writs of execution!” Anur protested, coughing awkwardly at the raised eyebrows that declaration netted and continuing, “Which sounds – far worse than I meant it to. I wouldn’t kill them!”

:The dead cannot suffer,: Aelius inserted blandly, Solaris choking on her tea at the new voice.

“Exactly – I mean. What a coincidence,” Anur mumbled, before rolling his eyes and admitting, “Fine, fine, if it had gone poorly I would have retaliated somehow, but this visit went well, so the point is moot!”

“My greetings, Companion Aelius,” Solaris said aloud, shifting her attention to the middle distance after giving Anur a ruefully amused glance. “And apologies I have not managed to introduce myself to you previously.”

:More than understandable, Your Eminence,: Aelius broadcast, :We have not had occasion to meet without outside stressors, and Companions do not often speak with those not their Chosen besides.:

“Oh really?” Kir said pointedly.

:You’re adopted, it doesn’t count,: Aelius replied blithely, :Also, Fabron has been strategizing with the stablemaster here on pulling training tips out of you, because clearly Riva is the third such horse that you have somehow trained to Brahnas standard – what is that standard, by the way?:

“The Brahnas are well known as some of the best horse trainers around, certainly the best in Karse,” Solaris replied, having apparently designated a point floating between Anur and him as ‘Aelius’ for the purpose of looking in a particular direction for a conversation. “The Firestarters have all had Brahnas horses for the past few generations.”

“A deal was made two Incendi – ah. Three Incendiaries ago – Verius was a student when it was made,” Kir explained, shrugging, “I do not know the details of it, but it certainly counted as part of their tithe and undoubtedly they received some sort of additional concessions for contracting with us in particular. Jaina would know more, and she mentioned Fabron was her understudy so at least him discussing it makes some sense – apparently he’s horse-mad.”

:And very dedicated to keeping the Firestarter’s contract with the Brahnases going. With Ancar – I expect he’ll ask when Maltin and Rodri will receive their Brahnas’ horses, with a push for as soon as possible, and for you accompanying them.:

“Which is more than fair,” Kir admitted, grimacing, “I’ve been meaning to ask them about Riva for some time now, though I planned to put it off until after the Valdemar alliance, simply so there would be no chance of them noting your disguise, Aelius.”

:Yes well – we need to either find some reason to postpone it to that point, or Anur and I need to dodge the trip, as the other thing Fabron thinks the Brahnases can offer is appropriate stud fees.:

Kir and Solaris both choked on their tea and Anur collapsed into laughter, Aelius sounding ruefully amused as he continued, :Undercover Companions have run into this before, and usually we can interfere with perceptions enough it never comes to us – ah. Being put in a position to refuse to perform, as it were, but widespread mental interference can get very messy, very quickly, particularly if Fabron has been discussing this for a while.:

“Forget that!” Anur wheezed, “Imagine Fabron’s face when he realizes Aelius heard this plan!”

“That poor man,” Solaris said sympathetically, though her very clear amusement at the thought rather undercut it. “Kir, which route will you likely go? Postpone or have these two avoid?”

“Avoid,” Kir admitted, drumming his fingers on his mug, “I do want to speak to them about Riva, and Maltin certainly needs a good horse soon. Rodri could wait, but it would be better for him to have more time with a particular horse than less, right now he’s been using the standard lesson horses and the communal ones for our rides out to Aulch.”

:Also, if it’s something about Brahnas horse bloodlines that result in my own interference lasting for a ridiculously long time, having Rodri with one of similar lines can only help,: Aelius pointed out.

“Is that likely?” Anur asked, finally managing to stop snickering and looking intrigued instead, “For some horse bloodlines to accept being boosted by Companions better than others?”

:I don’t see why not – or why, to be frank. It is simply a thought.:

“Bloodlines were my planned question,” Kir said thoughtfully, “Easy enough to direct the conversation that way. I don’t recall any particular bloodline being mentioned for Riva though – he was gelded by the time I got him, if his bloodlines were valuable they wouldn’t have bothered.”

Solaris shrugged at their glances, saying, “I know nothing of horses beyond the basics of assessing their condition for the tithe and how to keep one in resonable condition while riding. Aside from my assignment to the troika I haven’t had any occasion to use those riding lessons we all received. For my pastoral assignment I walked.”

“You know, I honestly forget that most pastoral priests walk or join caravans to reach their assignments and don’t necessarily know horses well at all,” Kir admitted, “I’m far too used to the duty requirements for rovers.”

“It is what you are, and what you’d encounter most often,” Solaris replied, smiling faintly as she added, “The fact you’ve spent over a decade stationed with a cavalry unit doesn’t help, I’d bet.”

“Probably not,” Kir agreed, tilting his mug her way.

“Now that we’ve been thoroughly distracted – Anur, you said this visit went well, is there anything behind that qualifier or are you hedging your bets?”

“He never hedges bets,” Kir grumbled, scowling at Anur, “He cursed us.”

“I did not!”

“I will ask about that later, but first I want to hear about this visit!”

Anur sent a worried look his way and Kir sighed quietly, nodding in agreement. With Anur saying this visit went well – he had come to much the same conclusion.

“The Valdemar reforms are going to be hard on them – even without taking into account Anur’s status,” he admitted, “Lukas especially. He was visibly struggling with the… ways I’ve changed, from what he might have ever imagined for me. That is aside from his understandable trauma – fear of horses he confirmed verbally, and Kari’s eyes startled him badly as well. Kiara has no former impressions of me to bias her, and Elisia seems content enough with the fact I’m not a fire-hungry witch-hunting maniac, and very cognizant of the realities being a Firestarter impose. Tamara and Irma both – they may not be pleased, may not take the knowledge easily, but it will not be particularly difficult for them.”

“Lukas is the one crippled by Seraphi?” Solaris asked quietly, wincing when Kir nodded and continuing, “Understandable. The poor man. No that reform will not sit easy with them. When it draws closer – no further than a week out – I see no reason you could not inform them of it earlier. Perhaps not Anur’s identity, though that of course is up to you, but of the coming Midsummer announcement. If they were to only hear of it in public – depending on how the Midsummer announcement is made, they might end up learning of this change in the midst of a Midsummer service crowd – an advance notice would be preferable.”

“That might help,” Kir said, feeling his shoulders slump and he laughed ruefully, running a hand down his face and correcting, “No, it will help. It will just be a hard conversation to have, and the aftermath of it will be – hard. At least we have time.”

“At least we have time,” Solaris echoed. “On a related note,” Anur said, “Thoughts on mental shielding being added to the standard childhood curriculum?”

“It’s a very elegant solution,” Solaris agreed, brightening as the conversation switched to a somewhat less personally fraught part of their future.

So far as she knew, at least. Kir was hesitant to tell Elisia’s story here, not without his sister’s permission. She was a potentially valuable resource in teaching and testing shielding, especially because she was a lay-person, but their relationship was too fragile for him to be willing to betray her confidences.

She had round-about confirmed to Anur that she was taught shielding by a Herald, and Anur wasn’t mentioning it either.

“I was thinking about the matter,” Kir admitted instead, continuing, “An adjustment to the nation’s childhood curriculum would require a fairly universal announcement. If it was led up to in some way, or announced and then at the end have some form of the phrasing ‘anyone who has knowledge of this, please reach out’ – I don’t know how we could encourage it without blatant bribery or making people uncomfortable, but offering the basics and then opening the field to those who have been taught somehow? With Wes present in Karse for so long – with other operatives present in Karse, or even just local teachers passing things down through the generations – I find it hard to believe that literally no one in the laity has knowledge of mental shielding. Even some returners from Valdemar could be resources, that would possibly help with reintegrating them into their communities.

“Some sort of testing and verification of the shields’ strength is another issue – but you’ve returned the Feast of the Children to its old purpose for thirteen year olds, would it be possible – perhaps in a year or two, given – to modify it again to include testing for adequate mental shields? Make it part of the adulthood rite?”

“That will take more than a couple of years to establish,” Solaris replied, gaze distant as she thought it over, “But it could work nicely.”

“There has to be an option for teachers to not be priests. A long-term, permanent option, not an understanding that these are exceptional times and one day such education will only be in the priesthood’s hands again,” Anur reminded them, shaking his head, “I realize the priesthood is a major logistical backbone for Karse, but if you don’t decentralize some of the Talent instruction, I worry that it will be easier to backslide. Also, some sort of allowance for training beyond mere shielding, without requiring the individual train for the priesthood, really needs to be put into place or at least considered as a possibility.”

“And an incentive of some sort for pursuing that additional training,” Kir added, frowning, because training everyone to shield was all well and good but it wouldn’t be enough. Training the Talented was equally necessary, and Anur raised good points on teaching things besides the basic survival skill of shielding. “We want trained, Talented individuals. Even if they don’t work with their Talent in some way that tangibly contributes to the community, without training – active, conscious control of their Talent – they are far too easily turned into tangible threats, and horror stories always spread farther and faster than happy ones.”

“Something to add to the Council discussion,” Solaris agreed, frowning slightly, “I might set Larschen on it to do some preliminary research in the next few days – you two need to focus on the Conclave.”

“Thankfully everyone has had a chance to review the Charter – and edits have been ongoing all year,” Kir huffed a laugh, “This would be a disaster if we had to do all of those edits and writings in the Conclave itself, we’d never finish in time for the Vigil.”

Shaking his head, he focused on the conversation again; this was their only planned meeting before Midwinter – with the Conclave starting tomorrow evening, he and Anur would be fully occuppied with the Firestarters, and even if they weren’t actually busy the entire time he would rather plan to be available for the entire time. Half the point of the Conclave was allowing all Firestarters relatively equal access to the Hall and the Incendiary. With as long as their list was, he would rather raise concerns and issues before Midwinter and give Solaris at least a few days to potentially start on them or at least think things over. The sooner they had answers and at least tentative plans, the sooner they could get back north, and tomorrow would not be soon enough.

“How did the necromancy warding go?” he asked, “And more critically for me, was there any apparent drama or tension between Colbern and Tristan?”

“Not that I can recall, and the warding went quite well,” Solaris reported, reaching for a piece of her negotiated half of spice-cake. “I anchored the East, Tristan the North – and I was surprised to see two Firestarters amongst the necromancers, that is a significant presence with how few there are – Colbern the West and Liljan the South. With the exorcists managing the channels to the border ward we were able to reinforce and reinvigorate them to the point I suspect next year won’t require the rite at all, though it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, even with that much power drained away, the exorcists don’t report a significant drain in the border ward – there certainly was a drain, but it started recouping its losses rather immediately, from Loshern’s report.”

“Dismantling that is the next priority then,” Kir sighed, “I had hoped this would at least slow things down, but – it seems not.”

“Not significantly, no,” Solaris said sympathetically.

“The other matter has to do with Loshern and something we had relayed to us,” Anur finally admitted, hesitating before continuing, “We – did not have the best of first meetings, and in the course of it I ran through an early version of my homicidal maniac trick and I hold grudges, so I continued a – vague sort of hostility with him. Nothing truly – well. I thought of it more as teasing, but he was not interpreting it that way.”

“All right,” Solaris said slowly, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Kir took up the explanation, saying, “When we went to present Anika Brersi her spear, Fredric and Anur were talking and somehow it came up that Fredric had – realized, at the very least, that there were likely complications, complications potentially hazardous to the anchors, in the border ward we had designed and said nothing of it. During the argument about it he – frankly, he admitted that he saw the death of every living Firestarter as no true disaster, as a potential benefit, even, because we had fallen so far from our purpose that starting from our ashes could very well be better for everyone.”

“Would be better,” Anur corrected, voice tight.

“No, Anur,” Kir insisted quietly, “Could be better. His first worry was that any delay in the warding would have catastrophic consequences – and long-term ones – for Karse. Did he do anything to avoid our wholesale risk? No, he did not. The thing that I find unforgiveable – that Kavrick finds unforgivable – is the fact he did not even try to get us to leave our students out of it. That would not have been hard to manage without putting our actual completion of the ward as scheduled at risk, and he did not even try.”

“The destruction of the Firestarting Order was not his goal, fine, but the fact that he knew it was a possibility – even thought it was likely – and considered that a fair cost without even consulting someone else on the decision - !”

“Anur, brother, easy,” Kir murmured, reaching over to wrap a hand around Anur’s wrist, looking over to Solaris and wincing at the grief very much evident on her face.

“I am so sorry that you had to hear that,” Solaris said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I have heard – some similar sentiments, and come down hard on them. Because a challenge, certainly. Worth doing, definitely. Necessary – yes. I truly believe building on ashes would do nowhere near as much good for this reform as painstakingly restructuring yourselves. But it is not a universal understanding. They mistake harshness for justice, and it is a habit formed by centuries. It will take time to undo.”

“It will,” Kir agreed, voice just as quiet. He shook it off, though he didn’t remove his hand from Anur’s wrist, and continued with the actual point they were trying to make with this topic, “But that is not what we needed to speak with you about – not truly. Anika Brersi asked him later about his wording – he was needlessly confrontational, from what she said, and it came out that he can – well. He can detect Aelius’ bond with Anur as a powerful soul-binding with a non-human entity with enough of a connection and enough strength that this unknown being could interfere with Anur’s memories and thought processes at will. It horrified him, but he still recognized that he was not being called to act as he always was when his services as an exorcist were necessary, so did nothing. But it made him view Anur with no little wariness and suspicion on top of the antagonistic teasing Anur subjected the man too.”

Tightening his hold when Anur shuddered, he deliberately met Solaris’ gaze and concluded, “Kari has found four occurrences of exorcists attacking Heralds through their bond with their Companions in our records, Sister. On consulting with the Grove-born in Valdemar, there have been seven total cases over our nine-hundred years of enmity, with the most recent being Randyl, Chosen of Sonya, occuring in the reign of – ah, the grandmother of the man who ruled during Firestorm’s lifetime.”

“Elspeth the Wise, grandmother to King Theran,” Anur supplied.

“He did not have a nickname?” Kir asked, seizing on it as a brief distraction or at least shift in mood.

“Actually Elspeth is the only repeated royal name – at least for reigning monarchs, so even if other monarchs did end up with nicknames – I think most did, maybe as part of their funeral? I don’t remember, but the only ones actively remembered are the Elspeths, simply because there’s more than one of them. With the current Heir – I think she’ll be the Fourth, when she takes the throne,” Anur shrugged, “I asked about it in my history class, seems to be coincidence – there were a few other Heirs that were Seconds of their name, but they never actually made it to the throne and a sibling or cousin had to step up. By now it might very well be a superstition, though admittedly I haven’t actually asked the Queen and she’d be the one to know.”

“Seven,” Solaris said, voice faint.

Both of them snapped their attention to her and Kir had to wince, because she was – that was grief. That was devastation.

“Seven times that one of our – that a priest with a true calling, a true vocation, goes so far astray?” she whispered, burying her face in her hands, “To directly attack bonded souls, how could they?”

Hansa made his way over to her, climbing up to drape himself across her legs and she shuddered, burying her fingers in his fur. Before Kir could think of anything to say, she let out a deep sigh and straightened, exchanging a long glance with her Cat.

“There are techniques that can be taught to victims of soul-based attacks, things that – for lack of a better phrase, staunch the bleeding. I would be glad to teach them to the both of you, and to pass on instruction to Valdemar regardless of the status of our alliance. Should anyone be attacked that way again, Sunlord forbid, they could at least – survive long enough to escape and hopefully reform their bond, though there would be – side-effects, trauma, regardless,” Solaris said, looking between them both before admitting, “Knowing this – I would consider it a favor, if you two learned this. Anur, primarily, but Kir it could not hurt, and having a second person around – you would be able to help, if something happened.”

:It sounds like this would help if I died as well,: Aelius said quietly, :When a Companion dies – if it is quick, a surprise, then I would not be able to do anything to ease the blow on you, and this would – this would let you live.:

Anur was shaking.

“It need not happen,” Kir murmured, tightening his grip and leaning in when Anur turned towards him, pressing their brows together and repeating, “It need not happen. This is – a safety net. Kari waiting to Jump me out of the Trial, if something went wrong.”

“I can’t – I can’t learn it now, not now,” Anur whispered, shuddering, “Not here.”

“Sunhame would be a bad place for it,” Solaris agreed, watching them worriedly. “For multiple reasons. No, it should wait until you are in a place you consider safe, consider home, which I rather think is the 62nd. Hansa can Jump me there, you two and he will be more than adequate security, and I rather think I’d like to meet the men who have done so very much for Our cause.”

“You’ll have to come before the end of the next moon, in that case,” Kir said, “The twins that were our most frequent back-up have their commissions up then.”

“Well then, we have a deadline,” Solaris said, smiling.

They sat in silence for a time, and Anur was the one to break it, leaning back in his chair and turning to Solaris, “Right. We wanted to know if you knew about that, and if Ulrich had shown any signs of detecting the same thing Loshern did.”

“I personally cannot sense your bond with Aelius casually – if I meditated and focused on you, I would be able to perceive it, but without that jarring sense of something being wrong to prompt that deeper look, I have no real reason to do so. I was unaware that such casual detection of soul-deep bonds was possible. However, I was never properly trained as an exorcist. Ulrich has passed things along, and I am more than capable of performing exorcisms, but I was never offered training. As for Ulrich, he has said nothing to me regarding some sort of interference or difference in your soul,” Solaris frowned thoughtfully, “I will think of a way to broach the topic with him. Perhaps in reference to building an alliance with Valdemar – I do want to bring that up during the council meeting after Midwinter… I was planning to make that a dinner meeting the evening of Midwinter’s Day, mask its urgency with the excuse of us celebrating the season.”

“Urgency?” Kir parroted, startled before thinking it over, “The Valdemar alliance build-up, you mean?”

“We need all the lead time we can get,” Solaris grimaced, admitting tiredly, “I cannot figure out a way to start the alliance off strong without relying overly much on nationwide miracles, which is not tenable. Your reports on the northern reaches indicate the borderlands will have far fewer difficulties than I ever thought, but the rest of the nation – the rest of the priesthood… It needs to be something tangible, something real that will last past the day itself, but also something that the powers of both nations can agree to. I realize you two do not plan to hide Aelius as a paint past that, but your presence wouldn’t be anything new, and such a dramatic change needs something new to represent it. Also – Aelius’ presence aside, Anur, I rather think you’re too Karsite to be a true symbol of Valdemar anymore.”

Anur shrugged at Kir’s sharp look, saying quietly, “She’s perfectly correct, Kir. Karse is home to you and I both now.”

“I thought so,” Kir murmured, “But hadn’t been sure you had realized it.”

“After taking Lenora back and having panic attacks when I saw my own Whites on my arms?” Anur said ruefully, “How could I not? The last time I was in Valdemar to ask about exorcisms I ended up forgetting to speak the right language, and not having any dawn services or even hearing hymns in the distance while we dealt with something else felt wrong. And that is aside from the usual discomfort of not having you in range.”

“Sending you to Valdemar with a request for alliance is not in the cards then – I did not plan on it, not truly, my initial envoy must represent my government and mine alone. I will probably have to send Karchanek – it would be him or Ulrich, and Ulrich is not up for that long of a journey on his own any longer. He has a student besides.”

“Perhaps as the first long term envoy? Ship his student off with him, emphasize our intention to have a second generation of envoys?” Kir suggested, Solaris humming thoughtfully but not responding otherwise.

He would keep pushing that idea. He had not missed her use of the word ‘initial’ when she said their service as an envoy would be a poor idea. With his position as Incendiary, sending him as an envoy would not be particularly feasible, but the more options she could consider that weren’t himself and Anur, the better. For one, he had no desire to try and be Incendiary from any further away than the 62nd. For another, Anur and he would be a terrible ambassadorial team.

“Again, we have time,” Anur said finally, shrugging, “Let’s get through this Midwinter first.”

“Hopefully the plans for a quiet Midwinter actually work out,” Solaris said wistfully.

Kir snorted, pointing at Anur, “If they don’t, blame him. He cursed us.”

“Oh please,” Anur scoffed, rolling his eyes at Solaris’ intrigued glance, “As if we weren’t cursed with interesting times already, I hardly think my wording is any different from Solaris’ hopes for a quiet Midwinter! She cursed us just as badly!”

“She didn’t presume that a quiet past could be considered a sign for a quiet future!” Kir shot back, “She prevaricated! Hoped, rather than assumed! It is different! You cursed us! He cursed us. For the record.”

“Well then, hopefully, he only cursed you, and perhaps the Firestarters, and I myself will escape mostly unscathed. You had best go, go on, both of you – don’t try to reword your curse to include me!” Solaris barked, jabbing a finger at Anur, who squawked denials at ever considering it but no one was fooled.

Kir huffed a laugh and set his mug aside, throwing his saddlebags over his shoulders and hauling Anur to his feet and to the door. “We will see you in a few days, Solaris, barring any curse transference.”

“I will see you then!” she replied, heading to her desk as they shut the door behind them.

They set off down the corridor, Anur still shaking his head and muttering about ridiculous superstitions, he didn’t curse anyone. Kir didn’t bother arguing, but he definitely made mental note of this conversation. When Anur was proven wrong, he would want to have specific details in his ‘I told you so’.

Chapter Text

“Father Kir!”

Maltin had looked up when Rodri bolted to his feet, much less when Rodri gave a cheerful greeting and practically tackled his mentor when the man rounded the shelves. Enforcer Bellamy didn’t have to steady him this time, but he had clearly been ready to – they had all seen it happen before.

Both were still dressed in travelers’ garb, no vestments or even official Sunsguard uniform in sight. Now that the District was open it was no surprise they had been allowed within the Temple District without visible adornments, but it was startling to realize how much of Maltin’s idea of their appearance had been formed by the uniforms he usually saw them in.

The three of them had finished their initial greetings and reassurances – Rodri had been practically buzzing out of his skin the past few days, worried about how the family visit was going. Everyone was worried, even if they preferred not to admit it, but Rodri was the only one showing it so blatantly.

Maltin had caught Kavrick and Valerik strategizing over ways to minimize the collateral damage inherent in boat-sinking storms the other day though.

By the lack of tension and the fact that the men had clearly come straight here from settling their horses and seeing Her Eminence rather than retreating to lick wounds and build up masks – Maltin would say the visit had gone as well as could be expected. Nothing terrible enough to require the various contingency and vengeance plans that the other Firestarters had cooked up.

He wasn’t upset about that, how could he be, but he was really curious about what all those plans had been.

Returning the Incendiary’s nod when they reached the table, Maltin echoed Etrius and Fabron’s murmured greetings, examining the Sun in Glory their leader was wearing. He’d heard about this from the others and been rather upset he hadn’t had a chance to get a close look at it in person with them. Now Father Kir was wearing it, as he should be, and he could hardly ask to prod at it when –

He reared back when the pendant in question was suddenly hanging in front of his face, feeling the back of his neck heat up when the others chuckled. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm down, because he knew them. He knew tone, and this wasn’t malicious.

“Maltin, you can examine it,” Father Kir said, adjusting his grip so the pendant wasn’t simply swinging in front of his face and offering it to him properly, “I would hardly say no. The worst I might say is let’s set a time for later, but we have nothing pressing and I wished to speak to Etrius about his Charter draft and any last minute edits regardless. Also, I believe Anur made a promise to Fabron we need to follow through on.”

“I did – oh right, that promise,” Enforcer Bellamy shook his head ruefully and dropped his saddlebags on the ground, claiming a chair next to Fabron and saying, “As agreed, we’re coming to you first, and won’t go to Tristan directly until tomorrow in case you need to offer some sort of warning.”

“I – warning?” Fabron asked blankly, before shaking his head and straightening in his seat, looking almost alarmed, “No it is – it is nothing like that, nothing that is wrong it is simply upsetting to him – “

“Fabron,” the Incendiary cut him off, hand raised slightly and more than enough to silence Fabron with a near audible click as his jaw clenched, the two older men exchanging glances before focusing back on him, Father Kir continuing, “Fabron, we are not trying to imply that you are working with Tristan to – cover something, to dodge some penalty. We were under the impression that you wished us to speak with you first because Tristan might find our rather ignorant approaches stressing or upsetting in some way, and would rather avoid adding unnecessary stress. I, at the very least, respond far better to being warned ahead of time that something upsetting is on the way than in being ambushed.”

By Enforcer Bellamy’s grumbling and Father Kir’s dry tone, there was a story there.

“So we will give until tomorrow afternoon, so you can offer him that warning, and if he wishes to speak to us sooner and get the conversation over with, he is free to, but if not, we will designate a time to seek him out,” the Incendiary continued, and Maltin felt his shoulders drop down from around his ears as Fabron relaxed.

He knew he should be properly interested in what Fabron was relaying to their leadership about Tristan, but now that he wasn’t worried he would need to quickly vacate the area with babbled excuses and hopefully remember to return this Sun in Glory before he left, he could focus on the sacred relic in his hands.

Rodri was sitting next to him, watching his examination of the Sun in Glory he had helped craft, clearly near bursting with pride over what he had managed to put together. As well he should, it was beautiful.

Letting his fingertips run over the edge of the disk, murmuring the inscription to himself and wondering if it was merely fancy that caused the sun-blessed steel to flash with a brighter gold when he finished it, Maltin knew he could easily spend marks sitting here examining this piece. It was beautiful. It was – singing?

Brow furrowing, he let his eyes slip mostly closed and listened more intently – carefully focusing on the scraps of something he was hearing and letting the conversations fade – Father Kir speaking to Etrius about the Charter’s final draft, Enforcer Anur murmuring the occasional clarifying question to a low-toned Fabron – those weren’t important, not when he was starting to catch some hint of a tune.

Tracing his fingers over the steel again, he hummed a few bars before scowling, because those weren’t right, didn’t match, so he reached further, humming snippets of not-quite-right harmony as he tried to capture that faint –

“Kari!”

Maltin gasped, eyes flying open as he hit gravel, struggling for a few frantic moments before recognizing the person pinning him down as Father Kir, as safe, but the music wasn’t fading it was still echoing in his ears in the air in fire –

=

Anur barely had a few seconds warning but it was enough to reach across the table and grab Rodri, hauling him across it with liberal help from Fetching his clothes but still almost not soon enough to get him clear of the roaring whirlwind of golden fire that engulfed Maltin and Kir both, Kir’s shout for their Order’s Firecat – Kir’s worried but unharmed and unafraid presence in Anur’s mind – the only thing that kept a complete panic from descending when the fire vanished and them with it.

“They’re in the courtyard. Are all three of you all right?” Anur demanded, forcing back his own alarm and looking the other three over.

None looked injured at the very least, but all looked distressed in some way.

“Fabron, I need you to make sure there are no embers waiting to light our Library on fire,” he ordered, figuring the ordained Firestarter would be the one most definitively able to complete that task. “Etrius, check the books on this table and the shelves behind for damage including superficial and set those that are damaged aside. Once those tasks are finished you are both free to go. Rodri, with me.”

He didn’t bother restraining himself from a run, Rodri following but falling behind simply due to shorter legs. He would normally wait, ensure Rodri was running without pain because he had collided with the table at least once when Anur dragged him across, but he could hear shouts of alarm and needed to make sure no one did anything reckless. He needed to be close enough to at least be able to try if something went wrong.

Barreling into the courtyard he lunged to catch Kavrick around the waist and hurl him back towards the edges – the central gravel circle was filled with a twisting firestorm of golden-white flames radiating enough heat he could feel his skin tightening even from the outer edges of the courtyard.

“Let me go Maltin is in that!” the priest snarled, frantic enough he wasn’t managing to employ too much of his basic hand-to-hand training but still difficult to keep penned.

“So is Kir!” Anur barked back, managing to choke down his own anxiety and continue, “So is Kari! Stand down Kavrick, your student is unharmed!”

“You can’t know that!”

“Yes I can!”

“He can Father Kavrick!” Rodri said, sticking to the walls as he made his way over to them and keeping one wary eye on the firestorm in their midst. “He can, remember? Father Kir would be able to tell him right away if something had gone wrong. Kari could too.”

“Kir has been dealing with these exact flames for weeks without injuring anyone!” Anur continued, gritting his teeth against the paranoid shudder Rodri’s still not-quite-direct reference to their mindspeech induced and cursing when Kavrick nearly managed to escape his hold at the distraction. Wrestling the priest back – this time, he shamelessly Fetched the toes of his boots to the ground, the man was frantic enough he probably wouldn’t notice and Anur wasn’t going to let someone burn in defense of that secret – he quickly continued.

“He can keep Maltin safe, even without Kari’s assistance, but there are no guarantees for anyone else stepping into that. None! What would Maltin do if he burned you?”

That finally cut through Kavrick’s concern, the man freezing in place. Anur didn’t dare loosen his hold on him just yet, continuing implacably, “What would Maltin do, if after he manages to wrestle these flames under control, after he manages to make an immense stride in his abilities, he finds out that his mentor was burned, was scarred at the very least, was dead at the worst, because of flames he accidentally created?”

“He would be devastated,” Jaina answered, emerging around a trailing arm of the firestorm and batting it aside with her ever-present halberd, a grimly worried expression on her face, “Maltin, Kir and Kari are all in there then?”

“Maltin was examining Kir’s new Sun in Glory and started humming to some tune – I think he might have been hearing the song Kir and Rodri hear,” Anur said, catching Rodri’s nod out of the corner of his gaze. “That firestorm manifested almost immediately afterwards. Kir can sense that sort of power and recognized it fast enough for him to grab Maltin and call Kari to get them out of the library and into a cleared area. Fabron and Etrius are ensuring no embers are left behind and checking books for damages.”

“Reasonable,” she said shortly, gaze softening a bit as she looked at Kavrick, saying quietly, “You know he is right, Kavrick.”

“He’s my student,” Kavrick whispered, eyes not wavering from the storm and looking near terrified to even blink.

“Your student is in the best possible hands,” Jaina said, looking past them and calling, “Colbern! How many are with you?”

“Six total, eight counting you two.”

“A six-point containment then. Henrik?”

“He’s here.”

“He’s lead.”

Watching with no little fascination, forcing himself to focus on the Firestarters maneuvering into position for some sort of ritual or rite or spell instead of continuing to mentally prod Kir, Anur managed to get Kavrick and Rodri both settled on a bench along the wall, Kavrick rigidly tense and Rodri wrapping an arm around his ribs worryingly. Reaching over Rodri’s head to grab Kavrick’s collar – just in case – he murmured, “Rodri, are you injured?”

“Some bruising,” he admitted, gaze flickering from the firestorm to Anur’s face and back before he whispered, “You would know, right?”

“Of course,” Anur assured him. He could hardly say otherwise without sending Kavrick into another panicked frenzy, but he wasn’t lying. Kir wasn’t afraid, wasn’t horrified and upset and all the things he would be if he was watching a student under their protection die in fire. He was worried, he was deeply concerned, but there was an underlying sense of wonder, of gleeful curiousity, that would never accompany a true tragedy.

Maltin was uninjured. Kir and Kari both were uninjured. But he would not yet say that they would all be fine. His heart, still racing, wouldn’t let him.

The six Firestarters formed a ring around the firestorm with a healthy border of cleared space – a very good idea, seeing as occasional licks of flame spiraled out quite some distance before looping back into the storm – and were clearly in the midst of some working. Unfortunately Henrik was not one of the four he could see, as being the lead – whatever that meant – probably meant he was making more obvious gestures or indicators of what they were doing. But by the extended hands, raised towards one another to form a more clear circle, various acoutrements for controlling fire visible, they were making some sort of ward. Perhaps ensuring that the firestorm didn’t grow any larger?

Jaina had paced the circle and was approaching them again, runes on her halberd shimmering like a mirage, and she said, “Anur, if you could tell Kir there is a six-point boundary ward in place, that should allow him and Kari both to focus more on getting Maltin’s manifestation of flames calmed down rather than on keeping them contained.”

Telling the Firestarters about their Talent was already coming in handy then, and for more than just proof of concept.

:Kir, Jaina says to tell you there’s a six-point containment ward in place around the storm. Henrik is leading it.:

:Perfect, that helps quite a bit,: Kir replied, and Anur couldn’t quite hold back his relieved sigh when he finally heard proper words from Kir, rather than sensations. Whatever leash Kir had been keeping on the storm very quickly dissolved, lashes of fire no longer looping back into the storm and instead crashing against a mostly invisible but occasionally sparking barrier. :Once we get this locked down, Kari is going to have to stay with him until we can ensure this doesn’t happen accidentally. He’s going to have to join me in meditation to figure these flames out, but I do have a better idea of them now.:

Before Anur had a chance to relay that, Jaina said, “Would my presence help, hinder, or neither?”

Passing that along, Anur caught the bare edge of Kir’s shock at the implied offer before he replied, :Her presence would be an immense help. For one thing, Maltin is more familiar with her. He’s not responding to me.:

When he said that to Jaina he was unsurprised by her grimace, because she very clearly did not find firestorms and flames the comfort and thrill that Kir did, but he was also unsurprised by the way she nodded and turned to the firestorm, halberd held in a cross-body guard position and starting to truly glow before she strode in, soon vanishing from sight.

He had never seen anyone but Kir walk into fire like that.

By Kavrick’s shudder, by Rodri’s gasp, by Aelius’ startled oath, he wasn’t the only one struck by the sight.

=

Kir had never realized – he had never heard –

The golden flames were singing.

The tune that Rodri had recognized, had pointed out, with the Sun in Glory he had made, was echoing and amplified in the golden flames that had engulfed Maltin the moment he added his own Talent to the harmony. His own attempts to grasp them, to control them properly, had failed because he hadn’t been hearing them properly, he had only been catching a faint edge, the occasional note, rather than the entire melody and no wonder Vanya Flamesinger had searched so very long and bargained so very hard for sun-blessed steel!

Kari had managed to get them to the courtyard and they had wordlessly split the labor of keeping the three of them supplied with breathable air, and keeping the firestorm from growing to uncontainable size. Keeping them alive was the more immediately crucial task, so Kari had taken it. Any lapses in Kir’s concentration or waver in his control due to his not-yet-complete understanding of the golden flames would be easier to recover from without serious damage if all he had to contend with was keeping the firestorm within the courtyard’s boundaries.

But it left him with little focus to explain things to the teen shaking in his arms.

:Kir, Jaina says to tell you there’s a six-point containment ward in place around the storm. Henrik is leading it.:

:Perfect, that helps quite a bit,: Kir replied, relief washing over him and he didn’t even hesitate to let the majority of his focus retreat from containment, and letting even that small bit reduce to nothing after the first few seconds proved Henrik’s ward would hold. Jaina would not have had Anur pass that message on without being confident that the ward would work, and he was glad to see that her confidence hadn’t been misplaced. Even those few seconds spent without wrapping those singing flames back in on themselves was enough for him to reach some conclusions, passing on to Anur, :Once we get this locked down, Kari is going to have to stay with him until we can ensure this doesn’t happen accidentally. He’s going to have to join me in meditation to figure these flames out, but I do have a better idea of them now.:

Anur couldn’t have passed that along by the time he relayed, :Jaina wants to know if her presence would help, hinder or neither.:

Kir glanced at Kari, the Cat’s blue eyes equally stunned at the offer because – Jaina had no reason to offer that. She knew as well as anyone that they would be able to figure this out, get things back under control, without her. It might take longer, but they would do it. She did not have to do this.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take her up on it.

:Her presence would be an immense help. For one thing, Maltin is more familiar with her. He’s not responding to me.:

Anur sent back wordless assurance and by the jangling shock-awe-wonder that overpowered the anxiety he had been radiating ever since this started Jaina had walked straight into the storm. His mental estimate about the storm’s size – a whirlwind, more accurately, it truly wasn’t large – was evidently right, as it took barely enough time for a few rushed strides for Jaina to appear, halberd’s sigils glowing and a determined expression on her face.

He was so glad she was the other First Order Firestarter. Friendship aside, fire worried her. She had nightmares about her First Order Trial but she had still succeeded. She had still tried. She was a much more realistic example for others to follow.

Planting the butt of her weapon in the gravel and adding her own reinforcement to Kari’s protective dome, she crouched next to him and rested a hand on Maltin’s back, murmuring, “Maltin? Can you respond?”

“I can,” Maltin’s voice wavered, the teen finally pulling back a bit from where he’d buried his face in Kir’s chest but quickly reversing course when he caught sight of the flames surrounding them, flinching away.

“You can hear them,” Kir murmured, eyes narrowing at Maltin’s shuddering nod. “You can still hear them – they are loud, to you?”

“Loud like – like a full Temple chorus with all the doors shut,” Maltin whispered.

Jaina made a clicking noise against her teeth and shook her head when Kir shot her a quizzical look, saying quietly, “I don’t hear anything but the sounds of fire, Kir. No music of any sort.”

“Hmm. And if anyone else was likely to it would be you,” Kir said, filing that knowledge away to pursue later before returning his focus to the matter at hand. He had – well. It was a flimsy theory, at best, but at worst it would do nothing.

“And what would be the most stridently clashing note to that chorus you hear?” he prompted, smiling when Maltin jerked back to give him a dubious look, shrugging as he explained, “This storm started when you hummed along with it, and gave that tune the extra push to manifest in the world as fire. Seems an idea.”

“The silent gong?” Jaina asked, raising an eyebrow but looking more intrigued than doubtful.

“Possibly meant to be the silencing gong,” Kir offered back, having recalled the same strange scrap of phrase that was nonetheless present in all the versions of Vanya Flamesinger’s tale.

Maltin hesitated, hummed a few notes before flinching each time, and finally inhaled and brought his fingers to his lips, Jaina and Kir both clapping their hands over their ears in time to avoid being deafened by his horrifically shrill whistle.

But that was enough. The song the golden flames had been dancing to quivered and broke apart into disparate, dissolving pieces and now that they weren’t so well synchronized and harmonized with one another Kir was able to lend his Talent to Kari’s and finish silencing them entirely. At least for the moment.

“Maltin!” Kavrick shouted, halfway across the courtyard by the time the flames entirely disappeared and practically shoving Jaina out of the way to get to his student, hauling him into a fierce hug and murmuring, “Are you all right? You’re not injured? You scared the life out of me, Maltin, Sunlord praised you’re sure you’re all right?”

Kari was purring up a storm and draping himself across the pair’s laps, head butting against Maltin’s chest and Kir let his own tension ease when even the complete distraction and evident terror Maltin was coming down from didn’t bring the firestorm back. Jaina had evidently been waiting for the same thing as it was only after those first few moments that she made a sharp gesture with her hands and the buzz of power from the containment ward started to fade.

Anur’s hand settled on his shoulder, his brother murmuring worriedly, “You’re all right yourself, Kir?”

“Fine,” he replied lowly, eyes narrowing as he looked at the Sun in Glory Maltin had flung aside the moment he’d remembered where and when they were. Henrik was crouching to pick it up, looking more than a little fascinated by the piece, so he left him to examine it in peace for a few moments.

If he kept a careful ear out for that song spiking against his senses, well – that was only sensible.

“This started in the archives?” Seras screeched, Rodri leaning away from the man with a horrified expression – evidently he had been explaining to Valerik what had happened and Seras had overheard.

Thankfully Etrius and Fabron emerged at a run and took one look at the scene, blatantly sagging in relief, before Etrius caught his mentor’s panic and hastily cut him off, “Seras! Father Seras, it’s okay! The books are all fine, I checked everything in the vicinity and made sure Fabron caught all the traces of warmth.”

“We could have been out here much sooner,” Fabron said darkly.

“Father Kir and Kari were both with Maltin, neither of us would have been much help anyway, which makes the next priority the books!” Etrius snapped, his mentor nodding along and Anur cut off the exasperated sighs and rolled eyes from the other Firestarters with a barked laugh.

“When you put it like that, you’re completely right,” Anur said cheerfully, “I was really only thinking about how mad Kir would be if his favorite place in Sunhame burned down. So thank you both for making sure the archives were secure.”

Any reply from Etrius was cut off by his mentor hauling him into a hug and, by the muttering Kir could catch, offering heartfelt prayers of thanks to the Sunlord for getting him such a wonderful student. By the flailing, Etrius was at least a little embarrassed, or had some reason to pretend to be. Colbern was rolling his eyes next to the pair and patted Etrius on the head, the acolyte managing to wrench himself free of his mentor long enough to swat at Colbern’s hand with a scowl, and Kir couldn’t help but smile and knew he wasn’t the only one.

But back to the matter at hand.

Looking back to Henrik, he pitched his voice to carry and said, “If you hear any sort of singing – don’t hum along with it, please.”

“Is that what happened?” Henrik asked, fascinated and far from the only one, if the intrigued looks the Firestarters were swapping were any indication. “I don’t hear anything, so the point is moot, but how fascinating. That whistle we heard stopped them?”

“A silencing gong, perhaps,” Jaina said, shrugging when the others glanced her way, “Kir’s suggestion. I’m honestly amazed it worked but it raises some very interesting points.”

“Particularly in the fact I’m certain Maltin does not share the same Talent as Rodri and I do, yet can still perceive this song,” Kir agreed, waving a vague gesture of permission when Lumira reached for the Sun in Glory as Henrik started to offer it back.

“This song – oh frost it, I can’t even ask yet, if I get stories started they’ll never stop and Laskaris will be furious to miss it,” Lumira grumbled, passing the Sun in Glory she’d already seen once off to Valerik, who looked to be sincerely considering holding it up to his ear before thinking better of it.

“When is he due in?” Kir asked, glancing around the courtyard, “He is the last of us to arrive – he was stopping by one of the mercenary groups on the way back from Vondera, right?”

“The ones helping with a pirate issue before moving on to the Ancar border – they wanted to stay close to Ruvan and Jkatha for the first few months of their contract to ensure they had an escape route ready,” Jaina grimaced, “Not that I can blame them.”

“That batch?” Seras snorted, “I’m amazed they even considered a contract, they were actually directly involved in the whole fake-bandit mess a decade and change ago and Brynhild was a nightmare, my only regret is I never got to her myself.”

“You know, if Markov comes back, we could pass off the alcohol that Demon Rider is owed to him,” Colbern mused aloud.

Kir wasn’t the only one to double-take at that, but Anur was the one to actually speak, asking warily, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh it’s a favor-swap of sorts we had with – ah. Like-minded colleagues. We’re all that’s left, at this point, but the priests and priestesses that were particularly bothersome to eliminate but definitely in need of it got assigned values, and whoever got them without getting caught themselves received an appropriately rare or valuable bottle of alcohol. When we got word of Brynhild’s death by Demon Rider, we set aside a bottle of appropriately priced wine as a joke – but I don’t think either of us have drank it or given it to someone else, and with Markov living in Valdemar it’s entirely possible to have him pass it on!”

“I rather think they wouldn’t drink it, assuming it poison or some such,” Henrik pointed out.

“Also, Markov would never agree to stick around and watch their facial expressions, which would be half the fun,” Anur added.

“True, true,” Colbern agreed mildly, changing the subject and ignoring the narrow eyed looks more than a few of them were sending his way, “Anyway, Laskaris. He’s definitely supposed to arrive today at some point, he prefers to have leeway in his schedule so he wouldn’t plan a route that had him arriving tomorrow, but who knows what part of the day he’ll be riding in.”

“Regardless, if he shows up and finds out we’ve started asking questions that prompt stories without him, he’ll be furious,” Lumira repeated, Valerik offering the Sun in Glory to Fabron who shrugged as he accepted it for a brief second look before passing it off to Tristan.

Kir left the others to their examination – he should have expected it, sun blessed steel was still a rarity, and this piece was a conglomerate of sun blessed steel and regular metals, yet even the regular metals had an odd sheen in the right lighting, particularly around the sides with the carving of one of their Order’s older prayers. Aside from even that, Rodri had designed and made this, and while he was still very young, to anyone with eyes it was clear he had far better than even odds of one day becoming their Incendiary.

It was just as well he hadn’t gone through with the sun blessed steel arrowheads as gifts for the Firestarters – with Maltin’s rather dramatic connection to the steel, it would be a definite safety hazard until they had a better grasp of what exactly the sacred steel could do.

“Maltin,” he said, waiting for the student to look up from his hands running through Kari’s fur before he continued carefully, “Can you still hear it?”

The teen nodded, eyes darting to whichever Firestarter held the piece now and practically wincing.

Kir hummed thoughtfully, because it was interesting that he could hear the Sun in Glory, but didn’t seem to pick up on Rodri’s bracelet or Anur’s small pouch of arrowheads. Part of that could simply be how much louder or distinctive the Sun in Glory was, or lack of experience on Maltin’s part, but was he even aware of the fact those other arrowheads were in the area? Perhaps he needed to know there was something to listen to before he could perceive it.

Drumming his fingers on his knee for a moment, he stilled them and said, “Right. If you’re up for it, I would like to confirm that whistle trick works to end the flames. So long as you can stop them, we can take some time to research and think over what we already know before progressing. I, for one, want to consult the Flamesinger records.”

“He didn’t leave a journal, more’s the shame but perhaps the contemporary Incendiary’s logs and his monographs on lyricism hold references,” Seras muttered, Etrius responding with other suggestions in a low tone. Kir smiled faintly, because he recognized the titles they were suggesting and agreed with them entirely, and let his own attention remain on Maltin and Kavrick, both looking grim and nervous at the thought of bringing those golden flames back.

“I’ll call on them,” Kir said, smiling ruefully, “We’ll see if realizing how little of their song I was perceiving before this gives me better control of them, but as it is I can at least avoid calling quite so dramatic a firestorm. Rodri?”

Looking over his shoulder, he managed to avoid frowning only because that would give his student the wrong idea, but Rodri looked far more subdued than the circumstances warranted and had apparently been answering Tristan’s questions on the Sun in Glory’s forging with little of the enthusiasm he’d shown any other time the topic was brought up.

“Yes, Father Kir?” Rodri asked, perking up slightly at his regard, which was as confusing as it was heartening, to be honest.

“I’d like you to listen for this too,” he continued, before huffing a laugh and saying, “Without concentrating too hard, mind, unless you’ve managed to not murder any rosebushes in the past moons.”

“Define murder,” Rodri said, coughing into his hand at the chuckles that remark netted, nodding and saying, “I’ll see if I can hear it, Father Kir. I can always hear sun blessed steel, when I can see it or know it’s there.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Kir muttered, realizing he hadn’t been taking advantage of Rodri’s evident predilection for sun blessed steel, not in the context of getting him regularly listening without setting things on fire on accident. He’d have to think over potential exercises.

Ignoring Rodri’s wary glance – it was entirely undeserved, despite Anur’s snicker – he let his eyes slide half-shut as he gave the so very light touch those golden flames needed, and when they shimmered into being over his and Anur’s skin he focused first on ensuring they weren’t expanding further and then tried to properly listen. It took a moment – it was something out of range, out of his reach, until he finally managed to convince himself it was there, he knew it was there and then –

He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes fully as the golden licks of fire condensed down to a familiar cord tangled between his fingers, following the motions of his hand as he worked the first of the cat’s cradle sequence, the cord moving for all the world as if there was an invisible set of hands working the fire-string with him.

There wasn’t, of course, it was all his mind and his hands were moving entirely independent of the flames, only following the motions the flames implied because it was meditative and excellent practice on not burning flesh despite close proximity.

He was glad Rodri had adopted this exercise as an ultimate goal – it was a fond thought that maybe one day the two of them could have enough control, and enough synchronity, to actually play cat’s cradle with a cord of fire.

Slipping his fingers free of the cord, he collapsed it into an orb before letting it take a relatively free-form shape above his hands. When he was confident that was steady, that he wasn’t going to lose hold of it, he looked at Maltin and Kavrick – the latter looked flabbergasted, which was fair enough he hadn’t exactly performed these flashy exercises in front of everyone before and they were hard to describe verbally. Maltin just looked terrified.

“Think you can find that whistle again?” he asked patiently.

Maltin’s hands were shaking in Kari’s fur, but he took a deep breath and nodded nonetheless, brow furrowing as he quietly tested tones. It was fascinating to feel the fire flare and dull against his senses in direct response to Maltin’s whistling, even if his low volume and lack of intent was keeping the reaction relatively small. He hadn’t paid enough attention to Maltin’s flames to know if all fires he worked were so sensitive to his music, but he rather doubted it. The clashing whistle to put the fires out wouldn’t be such a surprise if that was the case.

He had so many questions.

Finally, Maltin seemed to decide he had the right one, and let loose a piercing whistle just a little different from the last one, but it did the exact same job and the golden flames Kir had held dancing in the air vanished like they had never been.

He could still hear scraps of their tune though – he suspected he would always be able to, now, much as he always heard the potential for fire underlying everything.

At least now he was properly hearing them though, Sunlord no wonder he had such trouble controlling them earlier, he'd only been hearing and working with part of the entire chorus and leaving the others by the wayside to do what they wanted until he brought his attention to bear on them – and undoubtedly let the ones he had already quieted loose again.

“Well done,” he said sincerely, smiling at Maltin’s painfully obvious relief, “Very well done indeed.”

Checking the angle of the sun, he raised an eyebrow and clapped his hands together briskly as he stood, “Right! Anur and I actually need to unpack, we never quite managed that, and if I could have that Sun in Glory back, Jaina. Maltin, Kavrick, we’ll need to set up a time starting tomorrow to work with these flames, after some of the archives have been consulted, and if someone wouldn’t mind ensuring Laskaris is caught up on this whenever he arrives I would appreciate it. Rodri – with us, please, I’d like to discuss an idea I just had.”

Not true, not really. But Rodri was still more subdued than his usual, Anur had murmured something about potentially bruised ribs, and he had a suspicion as to what this was about. Rodri had been the one to point out that the Sun in Glory sang, and had been watching Maltin’s initial examination of the piece with quite a bit more intent than could be considered expected.

Even if he hadn’t been hoping Maltin could hear that song, had perhaps guessed that he would be able to influence flames through music and steel in some way, the fact that Rodri was the driving force behind crafting the piece that had triggered this firestorm could be more than enough for guilt.

No one looked askance at the statement though, and Rodri reached his side at the same moment Jaina handed the Sun in Glory over. Settling it around his neck, he made to turn to Rodri and go but Jaina’s hand on his arm gave him pause and he met her gaze curiously.

She smiled, saying, “Before we keep plunging inexorably forward – the visit went well?”

Kir didn’t bother hiding his smile, and knew Anur was echoing it. Worries for the future aside, worries for how the next reforms would hit his family, the mere fact that he was worried about that, that he could worry about that, was reason enough for his answer.

“The visit went fantastically.”

“So does that count as accidental discovery or a student being in the middle of it?”

“Both – so you’re the one stuck with all the chores at the moment, Lukas.”

“Oh please, this is only the first page of the letter, I like my odds just fine!”

“Devin, put that paper back on my desk! You can take notes later!”

Chapter Text

He was so cold.

Rodri rubbed at his chest as he followed Father Kir and Enforcer Anur up the stairs, the two of them picking up their saddlebags from where Kari deposited them and talking in low tones about the golden flames that had – that he had –

Choking on a sob, he didn’t quite manage it quietly and his teacher whirled around, saddlebags shoved at his Enforcer and Rodri quickly found himself wrapped in a firm embrace, face buried in a thick woolen coat that smelled like horses and sage and fire.

He managed to keep his breakdown to mostly quiet tears.

“Easy, easy, Rodri,” Father Kir murmured, one near overly warm hand curling around the back of his neck, “You’re all right, and so is Maltin.”

Of course he knew why Rodri was so upset.

“I could have killed him!” Rodri sobbed, not even bothering to restrain himself this time, shuddering as he cried, “He could have – I just wanted him to hear, I just – I wanted him to hear music in fire because he loves music and I could have killed him he would have – if you hadn’t –”

“Come on, all the way to the office,” Enforcer Anur murmured, Rodri half-stumbling as Father Kir guided him down the corridor, arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders and just listening as he rambled, “He would have died and it would have been my fault and the song was so pretty and now he’s so scared and Kavrick was scared and I was so scared Father Kir.”

“Of course you were scared,” Father Kir said firmly, sitting down on the office’s one small couch and pulling him into another hug, Rodri burying his face in his teacher’s chest.

“Of course you were scared,” Father Kir repeated more gently, “Your pistachio incident aside, you’ve never seen flames truly out of control, and that was you in the heart of it, not a friend you had hoped to help. Rodri there was no way to know that this would happen when Maltin hummed along to that song we hear, understand? None at all – if you had told me you wanted to see if Maltin could hear it, I would have been just as intrigued and we would have gone through the exact same motions, I would have just been paying more attention from the outset – there would still have been a firestorm of golden flames, I would still have dragged him out of there with Kari’s assistance, and Kavrick and Maltin and you would have all still been terrified. I certainly would have seen no problem with conducting the whole experiment in the archives! He uses only a little magic and mostly ordinary kindling for his flames, the thought that he would be able to accidentally call a firestorm by humming sounds absurd. Is absurd.”

“Our lives are absurd,” Enforcer Anur muttered, Father Kir chuckling with what could only be agreement.

Rodri let the words, the reassurance, sink in, matching his breathing to the rise and fall of Father Kir’s chest and trying to believe that there wasn’t any way he could have prevented this. Trying to remember, to believe, that all things considered there really wasn’t anything for him to have prevented. No one was injured. No one was dead.

But Maltin had stared at fire and been scared because of something he had done.

“You’re shivering,” Father Kir said abruptly, Rodri suddenly feeling something shift in the air when it warmed around them. It wasn’t – he didn’t hear anything, like Father Kir said he did. Like he himself did, around sun-blessed steel. But there was something there that he noticed, and noticed before the actual warming.

“It is cold outside,” Enforcer Anur commented, but by the sounds he was moving around and gathering mugs of water for tea.

“I was scared,” Rodri mumbled, finally noticing his own shivers. He had been cold, he had noticed that, but it was winter and he was scared so of course he was cold. He hadn't thought he was cold enough to shiver yet though.

There was an abrupt silence.

“Rodri,” Father Kir said carefully, “What does your being scared have to do with being cold?”

“It doesn’t happen to you?” Rodri asked, shifting so he could look at Enforcer Anur but not actually leave Father Kir’s hold.

The guardsman raised an eyebrow at him, poking through a box of teas, before humming thoughtfully and saying, “The lothga, then? Rodri, that thing never truly – I never truly went under, it never really caught me. I was – I was cold. I was terrified. But it was very brief, before Kir came in with fires blazing and we managed to kill it.”

“Oh,” Rodri said blankly, hesitating before pressing on, “You don’t – have nightmares?”

“Oh I do,” he replied, apparently choosing tea for all three of them and dropping satchets in now steaming water before sitting on Father Kir’s other side, two mugs set on the low table in front of them and one staying in his hands. Brown eyes flicked between him and Father Kir, a faint smile appearing as he continued, “I wake up terrified about not being able to hear anyone, especially Kir.”

He tapped at his temple, showing it wasn’t the physical sort of quiet he found so nightmarish.

“I – I was cold. It was just foggy and cold and I was alone and scared but my sister was in trouble and – I had to find her, and help her, but it was foggy and cold and – and it was my fault!” Rodri felt his words trip over themselves, practically babbling as he shuddered, burying his face in Father Kir’s chest again and so very glad the air was practically summer-warm around them. The lothga’s dreams had been nothing but chilled.

There had been no fire. No sunshine. Just an endless cold grey.

“Oh, great, just what I needed, variety for my own nightmares,” Enforcer Anur mumbled, Father Kir snorting but not saying anything himself, just wrapping his arms tighter around him and keeping the air so very warm.

Rodri finally stopped feeling chilled, finally stopped feeling like he was only a bare step away from shivering, when Father Kir finally spoke.

“You feel guilty for the lothga then?” he asked.

“I know there wasn’t anything I could do,” Rodri said, feeling exhausted, “I know. But I still – my sister could have died. Synia could have died. Anira wouldn’t have even been born and I was the first one it caught! I was the one it followed back to the village!”

Father Kir only hummed, pulling back from him to pick up a mug and press it into Rodri’s hands. He didn’t quite want to, but he took the hint anyway and accepted the mug, shifting so he was instead sitting pressed against Father Kir’s side, glad that his mentor kept one arm over his shoulders while the other picked up his own mug of citrus tea.

“I understand why you would feel guilty for that – for that and for Maltin’s situation both,” Father Kir said finally, giving him a rueful smile as he continued, “And logic is very hard pressed against guilt. We will simply have to keep reminding you until you are able to believe it. One thing that I have always found helps against that sort of guilt is working to ensure it can’t ever happen again, or at least working to prevent it ever happening again. Being a Firestarter and working against blood mages is one way – but something I’d like you to learn regardless is mental shielding. If you ever get attacked by a lothga or similar creature again, shields will give you a better chance at noticing it, and if you notice it, you can fight it – or at the very least call for help and give warning.”

Rodri could feel his heart rising as the explanation went on, because that – that sounded perfect. Well. Not actually perfect. But plausibly perfect. It also sounded like something that would be useful against far more than just the lothga, and Lumira had made mention of the proposal for mental shielding to become part of the usual childhood lessons along with Writ and Word. If that was this – he would need to learn it anyway. The fact that it could help against the lothga, that he might be able to fight those creatures off if they ever attacked him again, just meant he was going to be a very dedicated student.

“I’ll try to figure out how to teach it,” Father Kir said, smiling ruefully, “It might need to wait until we ride north though, and we’ll have you accompany us with Kari bringing you back if no one is available to meet us and trade off – the way my own shields work relies heavily on that sense for flames and flammability we’ve been working on getting you to sense more regularly – and if these shields work similarly for you, you might end up with a bit of a breakthrough on that front. A crowded city like Sunhame would be – less than ideal, for that sort of development.”

“I – kind of hope it doesn’t work that way for me?” Rodri winced, remembering discussions over the year about this sense Father Kir had for flammability, for heat, even, and how he perceived it as noise. “I don’t – I wouldn’t say I love Sunhame, but I like Sunhame, and don’t want to not like it because it’s so loud?”

Enforcer Anur made an amused noise, saying, “Rodri, Kir dislikes Sunhame for far more than just noise. Flammability and mental presences both, though to be fair, Kir, I don’t think you sense those in truth, not unTalented minds, at least. Given what those other reasons are – I rather hope you never truly dislike Sunhame either.”

Rodri blinked at that, before wrinkling his nose and taking a sip of his tea, saying, “Fair enough.”

It had taken trying to relay Father Kir’s tips and tricks to his family – which, once you unwrapped them from the entertaining stories of scaring acolytes into thinking the crypts were haunted, boiled down to tips for getting around the Temple District unseen, for slipping down to the forge with minimal people spotting them, for the right corners of the library to always be within sight of the right sort of archivists – for how to identify the right sort of archivists – to realize exactly how strange it was that Father Kir knew all of this. That Father Kir assumed all of this was information he might need.

He had already heard some of it from Maltin, and Etrius was very good at being subtly present without truly lurking. But he had been lucky to have those protectors practically from the outset, he had only been in the general student pool for a week before the Firestarters swooped in to ask questions about the lothga, about this knack for fire they heard he had and oh yes, obviously that was exactly the same as Father Kir’s own knack, oh you’ve met him? How fortunate! Welcome to the Order, here are the other students, you’ll undoubtedly be trained by our Incendiary when you become an acolyte in full.

And – well. None of that was wrong, even after and in the midst of Solaris’ revolution.

“If you ever think you’re approaching that point, just let us know,” Enforcer Anur offered cheerfully, Father Kir properly laughing now and Rodri had to grin, because he knew exactly what the Enforcer was plotting.

“To return to what brought us here,” Father Kir said, taking a sip of his tea and making a face as he set it back down and fished the teabag out. “Gah. Oversteeped – I really need to get better about that. Anyway. Rodri, while Maltin was, reasonably, terrified by what happened, we will certainly be working with those flames for the next few days and hopefully have him at least confident he can immediately put any such flames out before the three of us ride north. To that end, I’d like to ask – did you hear the flames as you do the Sun in Glory?”

“Less complete,” Rodri reported, brow furrowing as he listened to the singing amulet again, “The Sun in Glory is – the whole chorus. I can hear everything. The flames were – as if I was walking around and the choir was in the distance, I would always hear something, but different pieces were louder or quieter.”

“Much the same as me, at first. Always hearing the whole chorus is going to take some more practice,” Father Kir informed him, Rodri giving him a startled glance because he had thought – well. Father Kir had been doing this so long!

Father Kir smiled at him, eyes crinkling as he said, “While I appreciate the surprise, I don’t know everything Rodri, we’re rather writing the text as we go, the lot of us. Our own Talent, for one, then sun blessed steel in and of itself as something outside of legends, and then this piece you crafted and golden flames I only stumbled into after watching Kari appear in fire more than a few times? I’m learning as much as you are!”

“Not as much,” Rodri replied, grimacing, “I had my tithe assessment exam today. I was checking my notes to see if I made any really terrible mistakes when you arrived.”

“I am so glad I got out of most of those,” Father Kir snorted, Rodri perking up and staring at his mentor hopefully.

Father Kir laughed at him again and ruffled his hair, saying, “Because I was trained as a witch-hunter, Rodri, which you will not be, I had to argue for classes that didn’t directly relate to witch hunting and preparing for it. The only reason I managed to take any tithe assessment classes was because of some argument I made with heresy first presenting itself in subtle ways – including giving substandard tithe offerings.”

“Why would you argue for tithe assessment courses?” Rodri demanded, aghast, because those classes were difficult and so very boring.

Father Kir hesitated, before admitting carefully, “Rodri – I love fire. That has never truly changed. I hated burning people alive. I still do. I always will. Any classes I could take that had nothing to do with that – of course I was interested. And once I was in them, I could justify putting in a tremendous amount of effort into the courses so I would excel, because if I excelled in those sorts of classes, of course my peers would assume that translated into a general superiority and right to judge them, when the time came for me to police the priesthood.”

“That being said,” he continued, voice turning dry, “I didn’t protest too hard when Verius insisted that only the two introductory overview courses were necessary.”

Rodri paused at that, realizing again that – he had never seen someone burn. It had always been there, as a possibility, as a thing that could happen. But he had never seen it. Fire had never hurt him, or someone he cared about, until today, when Maltin had stumbled into a firestorm and stared at fire like it was something terrifying, like it was something awful.

“How do you keep loving fire when people are scared of it?” Rodri asked, calling a small flame into being over his hands. He was very good at this – he had started the day after the lothga had died, and had seldom gone a day without holding fire in his hands. It was the only thing that would never happen in one of his nightmares.

His sister had seen him do it before he was claimed for the priesthood. No one else had, and he wondered what would have happened if he had shown his parents what he could do, wondered if they would have been scared. Lira had spotted the small fire and looked immediately relieved and hugged him the moment it was gone, saying she was glad he could fight off the monsters.

It hadn’t ever really sunk in until after Solaris, until he’d been cornered on the way to Axeli and people had been so angry, had been so afraid, that he had really realized that – Firestarters weren’t heroes.

Not anymore.

“I found stories of our heroes,” Father Kir said quietly, “I reminded myself that burning witches wasn’t all burning children, wasn’t all just politics and innocents and wrong. That there was evil out there for us to burn, it was just not the evil that Sunhame said it was. I worked in the forges, and focused on details of making shapes, of listening to the fire that everything held, once I heard it. I reminded myself that there were lamps and lanterns and bakers and smiths and all sorts of fires that were used to create, or to offer light or warmth. Rodri, burning people is so very little of what fire does. It is just so very awful that it is impossible to forget and very hard to see past.”

Rodri nodded thoughtfully, snuffing the small flame and returning his hands to clutching his tea. Oversteeped, as Father Kir had said, but it was warm. Even if he wasn’t cold anymore, not with Father Kir next to him and warming the air with their Talent, having another source was nice. There was no tea in nightmares either.

Father Kir sighed heavily and said, “I had hoped we could go a few more years before you were reminded of that, before you ran up against what our flames represent for most people, but knew it was inevitable. If anything – the fact we can hopefully help Maltin past this makes it a softer reminder than the other possibilities, especially with spring coming on fast.”

“Ancar,” Rodri said quietly.

“Ancar,” Father Kir agreed, voice bitter, “And half the higher ranks in the military and Sunhame alike convinced that there was no threat, that he will content himself with fighting Valdemar and never turn towards us despite the fact that he already has and did so years ago!”

“Kir,” Enforcer Anur said, the name evidently only meant to draw his attention, as Father Kir exhaled slowly and sat back, breathing carefully as his tea stopped boiling.

Other people would have been scared, Rodri realized abruptly. Would have seen that anger, seen the suddenly bubbling tea, and been terrified that flames would start crackling at their flesh or their clothes or their hair or their things.

Other priests, definitely. Maybe even other Firestarters.

“Father Seras said you were almost burned,” Rodri said, looking past Father Kir to Enforcer Anur and suddenly desperate to know, “But you’re – you were only scared of Maltin’s fires?”

“His fires – his illusions, to be specific – let me forget that Kir was nearby,” he replied patiently, “I don’t know if you remember that day in detail, but I stood off to the side most of the time. The only reason I managed to walk past those fires you and Etrius were working with was because Kir deliberately spoke to me and told me he was paying attention, he wouldn’t let me get burned. I’m scared of fire, Rodri, especially sudden fire, fire I don’t expect, unless Kir is around. I know Kir is an expert, and knows what he is doing. I would never be willing to supervise one of your experimentation sessions without Kir around, for example.”

“Oh,” Rodri said, knowing his voice sounded small, because he understood, he even sympathized because between the pistachios and the rose bushes – he was very clearly not an expert.

That didn’t mean hearing it spelled out didn’t hurt.

“Maybe one day,” the Enforcer continued, clearly sympathetic, “But it will take time – a very long time, being honest, and that is for anyone, not just you.”

“That day will come,” Father Kir said, utterly confident, “It will, Rodri. But it will take time, as Anur said. Time and work and patience. You will probably find quite a few people that take the same comfort in your presence around fire as Anur does me well before Anur has anywhere approaching the same level of faith in you, and that is not a reflection on you at all, that is a reflection on trauma. On years of nightmares, and the strange things we people take comfort in.”

Rodri nodded, because what else could he do? He hoped Father Kir was right though.

He’d like to have a friend like Enforcer Anur someday.

“So,” Father Kir said, redirecting the conversation again, “This was the last day of classes, then? Do you have plans for the rest period – that’s until, what, seven days after Midwinter?”

“Eight,” Rodri corrected, “Midwinter is on a Solsday this year, so seven days just lands us on a Solsday again. Etrius and Fabron usually go down to the southern charity temple complex a few days this season and they said I could go with them tomorrow morning – Maltin’s gone once or twice apparently but with what happened today – probably not this season.”

“Probably not,” Father Kir agreed, looking thoughtful, “The southern complex – north and south have the attached orphanages, right? With west being the charity division’s main records hall and emergency shelter?”

“Right,” Rodri agreed, “Etrius grew up in the southern one – I really think the only reason he even started going was to check in on the people he’d been protecting.”

“He does seem to have that tendency, doesn’t he?” Enforcer Anur chuckled, shaking his head, “Fair enough, and Fabron?”

“I think he just goes because Jaina prefers we don’t head out into Sunhame alone and now he’s used to going – I got escorted the first few times I went to Axeli’s, and that’s in the Inner circle!” Rodri hesitated, shrugging and admitting, “It took until summer for me to go to the forges alone.”

“Perfectly fair,” Father Kir agreed quietly, undoubtedly remembering the rather dramatic reunion they’d had almost a year ago. “Would you like to go to the forges this week? Axeli usually works every day up til Midwinter before he takes the rest period off – perhaps day after tomorrow? We should certainly update him on this whole golden fire business, and he usually has finicky detail projects to throw our way during the winter season.”

“That sounds great!” Rodri agreed, brightening at the idea of working in the forges with Father Kir around again. They wouldn’t be able to make any more sun-blessed steel – with the new golden flames revelation they probably wouldn’t be making anymore anytime soon anyway, but even without that sun-blessed steel forging required a lot more advance planning.

“We’ll plan on that then,” Father Kir said, before smiling faintly and asking, “So. Those assessments you just finished – how do you think they went?”

Rodri checked the angle of the sun outside the window before he launched into an explanation. He wanted to see exactly how many details he could fit in before they had to leave for the Descending and take full advantage, because he didn’t really want to have this conversation again.

Father Seras asked after every assessment, and Etrius did the same thing, and Elder Jaina had checked in just yesterday, and honestly this recap process was more exhausting than the assessments themselves. But this was Father Kir, and he always looked so happy when Rodri talked about his studies, or complained about his essays or just – or just talked, and he liked that.

Besides, now he could ask Father Kir about his classes and assessments!

=pagebreak=

It was a good thing Valerik was the one in charge of presiding over their Descending service today – having an ongoing rota was very useful, even if it was still more than a little strange to be in the congregation rather than leading the service. Fourteen years with only the very occasional opportunity to attend rather than preside left all sorts of ingrained habits.

But Rodri was still attached to his side like a burr, and near a mark of relatively calm news exchanging and story telling aside, he was still pale and near shivering the few times Kir tried to let the air cool to its natural temperature around him. Rodri was already pressing his fingers against his own sun blessed arrowhead bracelet every moment he could, and by the flickers of fire at his fingertips he was reminding himself that fire was available, was an option, when it evidently wasn’t in lothga dreams.

It had been nearly a year since he first ran into Rodri again. Nearly a full year, and he was surprised by the lingering after effects of the lothga. Not the fact he had nightmares, Kir could hardly expect less, but this odd relationship between being scared and being cold? That was new, that was unfamiliar.

He needed to check in with Jakyr Kalesh soon, to make sure there weren’t lingering side effects from the bishra they hadn’t known to expect besides the obvious nightmares and potential lung problems. They had written to the man occasionally, and Devek Koshiro was also a frequent correspondent from what he said, but some fears were hard to mention in letters, even now.

Almondale as well, perhaps? Or should he delegate that one?

The service ended with one of the shortest possible dismissals, and Kir had to exchange a grin with Anur because they could guess very well why exactly Valerik wanted to have this over with as soon as possible. The Conclave started tomorrow evening, and after that he would be unable to slip out of the District for drinks until after Midwinter.

Rodri shivered beside him.

Upping the air temperature around him, he wrapped an arm back around Rodri’s shoulders and said lowly, “Still cold, then?”

“It’ll be over in the morning,” Rodri said, sounding resigned and Kir wanted to track down an already dead creature and slaughter it. Since that wasn’t feasible, he would instead remember this moment, press it into his mind, and wait until he had a blood mage in his sights.

Taking his Sun in Glory off, he dropped the amulet around Rodri’s neck and his student startled, hand pressing against the singing metal and giving him a bewildered look, saying, “Father Kir, this is yours.”

“Which means I can lend it to who I like, including my student, this talisman’s designer,” he replied firmly, catching Kavrick’s gaze as the man walked past with his own student under his arm and nodding at the man’s mouthed, “Meeting?”

Returning his focus to Rodri, he was relieved to see some of the tension had left with the Sun in Glory’s presence. At least it was reassuring to one of their students. Maltin would probably have thrown it out the window rather than let it near him again, at least for now.

“Thanks, Father Kir,” Rodri said quietly.

“You are most welcome, Rodri,” he replied, “If there is anything else I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask. Are you going to be all right for tonight?”

“I think so,” Rodri said, offering a shaky smile, “There’s no singing in those dreams.”

“Hmm. Well, if you do need us, call for Kari and he can relay a message to us without you going anywhere,” Kir replied, eyeing the door Kari had just exited through as he continued, “I think he’ll be with Maltin most of the night.”

“Good,” Rodri said firmly, wrapping his arms around Kir’s waist and Kir returned the hug with ease after all the practice he’d been getting lately. “I need to pack up my notes and things in the library, but I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Of course,” Kir assured him, smiling faintly, “Have a good night, Rodri.”

“You too, Father Kir,” Rodri echoed, pulling back and only pausing a moment before he gave Anur a hug as well, Anur cheerfully returning the gesture and exchanging their own good nights before his student – really he mostly referred to Rodri as their student at this point, he should really check in with Rodri if that was all right – left their sight at last.

“Kavrick wants a meeting?” Anur commented, “The office again?”

“Probably,” Kir agreed, frowning as he thought over what they would need to discuss and switching to mindspeech on the way out the door, :Aside from setting up a schedule for practicing these golden flames – I think it’s time to bring up Bardic. With these flames manifesting with his music… we need Kavrick warned, at the very least, and I’d rather at least give Maltin the information, and perhaps announce it to the others as a possible explanation for the flames’ manifestation.:

:That could get ugly – Bardic’s a type of empathy, and you call empathy heart-twisting.:

:…What about heart-reading? And then Bardic could be heart-singing, and we won’t be so directly copying Valdemar – and won’t be using a word that’s already in our vocabulary besides, using Talent is rather annoying.:

:I think Gift is worse for that, but fair enough – and I like that they’re blatantly related,: Anur said.

They had evidently chosen correctly, opening the door to the office and finding Kavrick already there, slumped in a chair with his face buried in his hands.

:Could you grab us some of that prodka Jaina tucked away?: Kir asked, Anur nodding mutely and heading for the relevant shelf, Kir settling in a chair across from Kavrick and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There was a faint rattling of the shutters against the walls – he would have to shut them when this conversation was over, the wind had picked up quite a bit in the last few marks.

“My first thought – after my heart finally let me think again, with Maltin safe – was on how to tell Fredric this story,” Kavrick said heavily, accepting a full glass from Anur and knocking back the entirety of his prodka.

Kir wanted to wince. Not only because of the pain evident in the man’s voice, but this prodka was far too quality to treat like that. He’d only bought one glass from this distiller in his entire life, but Jaina hadn’t even considered something lesser when she had replaced her preferred honey-wine with his own alcohol of choice.

Pulling his flask out of his boot, he leaned forward to refill Kavrick’s glass with the mediocre liquor he carried. Both because he seldom cared enough to buy anything more expensive, and because it was an emergency accelerant. He wasn’t going to use quality prodka as accelerant.

Kavrick sipped this one and chuckled wryly, “Fair enough, Eldest. I should treat the better liquor with respect.”

“You can taste a difference?” Anur muttered, staring at his glass.

“If you can’t, you can just drink from our flasks, and leave the office bottles for me,” Kir informed him.

Returning his focus to Kavrick, Kir still hesitated before asking carefully, “You have made some decision regarding Loshern then?”

“He knowingly allowed me to put Maltin into danger, and utterly needless danger at that,” Kavrick said bluntly, “If he had even hinted at having some doubts as to how stable the ward would be, depending on his wording I would have left Maltin out of the rite entirely but not bothered passing on the warning to anyone else. He did not even try. Considering the Firestarting Order a waste of effort to restore, to rebuild, without destroying everything and starting from scratch – while I disagree, I would understand that perspective. But our students? But my student? No. Whatever understanding we had is over. Whatever friendship we had is strained, if not entirely over. I no longer want to be assigned patrols that take me through that oasis town, which is a damn shame as Anika Brersi is a very impressive young woman and she was a very good person for Maltin to speak with. But other than that adjustment of patrol schedules, there is nothing either of you two need to deal with.”

“Understood, and easy enough to manage,” Kir agreed, relieved that this, at the very least, was resolved. “We won’t be taking any routes through there for at least a few moons, unless Anika Brersi calls on us. Anur is not well pleased with him.”

“I will kill him if he says the wrong thing, and I don’t necessarily want him dead,” Anur said placidly, passing his half-full glass over and Kir cheerfully accepted it, pouring it into his own before settling his hand back around Anur’s wrist. His brother’s mental presence was anxious, still on edge, despite being visibly relaxed and at ease.

Anur had gotten far too good at that, though Kir realized he had no leg to stand on.

“Fair enough,” Kavrick said, clearly amused. That amusement faded fairly quickly though, and his next statement drained Kir’s own growing ease away too, “Maltin – those golden flames. He worried briefly that – that the firestorm had been some response to him, as if he needed cleansing.”

Kir choked on his liquor, managing to cough it down while Anur swore, and he scowled at Kavrick, saying sharply, “That is absurd.”

“I told him as much,” Kavrick replied, clearly distressed and of course he was, his own student had thought that he was worthy of burning. Even if it was only for a moment, that was a moment too long, “Kari told him as much, thank the Sunlord Kari was there, I don’t think – I don’t think I alone would have been able to assure him he was wrong, not as much as Kari could.”

“Thankfully Kari was there,” Kir echoed, looking out a window at the truly evening sky. Standing, he walked over to that same window, gazing out over the few buildings he could see from this angle, the gilded roofs no longer gleaming in the setting sun’s light. Staring at his glass, he grimaced and continued, “If he still genuinely believes that – I do not know what we can do to convince him he isn’t worthy of burning, that he has no such stain on his soul, besides keeping an eye out for any chances to assure him of that fact and taking them. Depending on the depth of the belief, I do not know that Kari’s words today will be sufficient on their own. They will help, undoubtedly, but to end such a thought completely? Not if it has lurked for a time.”

“I swore to myself I would never turn my hand against an acolyte or initiate, I swore that to myself years ago,” Kavrick muttered, face buried in his hands again, “But those damned yearmates of Maltin’s made that vow harder to keep for six years than it had been for the thirty since I swore it!”

“Fake-Kris quit, I heard, which means he’s technically neither,” Anur pointed out.

Kir was relieved that Kavrick joined him in staring, Anur looking between the two of them with a puzzled frown.

“What?” he asked, “I don’t know that I would genuinely track him down and murder him in cold blood, but commenting on his status isn’t too outlandish.”

“Fake-Kris?” Kir repeated pointedly, “I assume that is the one you stabbed?”

“Yeah, Fake-Kris,” Anur agreed, “I never got his name.”

“It’s Linus Vaustern, of the noble family of that name,” Kavrick said, looking reluctantly amused as he asked, “Fake-Kris?”

“He – ah, Linus, that is – he – this sounds worse for Kris now that I think about it,” Anur ended up mumbling to himself before clearing his throat and trying again, saying, “Linus had the look of a noble-born, and he was very… classically attractive? Pretty? If an ordinary person was standing next to him, no one would look at you twice? You both know exactly what I mean, anyway, I had a good friend growing up that was much the same. Wealthy family, very attractive man, but, unlike Linus, not a completely terrible person. So when I intervened with Maltin that one time, I started mentally calling him Fake-Kris. Apparenty it’s Linus. Learn something new every day.”

“I like Fake-Kris,” Kavrick mused, “Deny his own individual personhood by calling him a pale and poor imitation of someone better. A good insult.”

“That is a lot deeper than I planned it, but I will gladly take credit for it,” Anur said, hesitating before continuing more seriously, “Kavrick, you think then that this – belief, of Maltin’s, is at least partially from that harassment?”

“Oh every child taken for the priesthood had at least one moment thinking they’d be burned,” Kavrick waved off, either not noticing or ignoring the horrified look Anur sent at Kir and definitely choosing to ignore the distressed noise Anur made when Kir could only shrug in response, because it had certainly been true for him. “Maltin should no longer think that though, particularly after the reforms, and the fact that it was practically his first thought is what worries me. That persistence of belief, of doubt in his own goodness, of doubt in his lack of soul-staining evil, can at least partially be laid at those harassers’ feet.”

“Kavrick,” Kir started, hesitating and exchanging a worried look with Anur before continuing carefully, “When speaking with those returning from Valdemar – they mention a Talent that seems to be a – type of heart-twisting. Heart-reading, for a less negative name. It manifests in music.”

Kavrick had gone very still the moment he mentioned Valdemar, and his knuckles were white on the arms of his chair by the time Kir finished.

“When I was caught in Maltin’s working that one time – in those illusions – it felt similar to when I was caught by a rogue Empath out in the Plains,” Anur added.

“I do not dispute the idea that his harassers bear a greater part of the burden, when it comes to Maltin’s mistaken belief in his own unworthiness,” Kir quickly continued, “But we had noticed something extra in Maltin’s music over the year, and tentatively identified it as this manifestation of heart-reading. There is nothing certain yet, and it is certainly not something we want to bring up to him without speaking to you first, but – Kavrick. Did you – or do you have reason to think Maltin might – realize that connection? Recognize it? Because believing yourself – knowing yourself – to be a witch is not easy to work past. I was… fortunate in that by the time I realized I wasn’t simply imagining the screams, I already believed that our definition of witch was wrong. If Maltin had recognized something uncanny in his music before these reforms…”

He trailed off, glancing between Kavrick and Anur worriedly. Anur was practically radiating distress even without their mental connection, so he quickly walked back over to him and settled on the arm of his chair, Anur burying his face against his side, breathing harshly. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Kir looked over to Kavrick and wanted to wince at the stricken expression on the man’s face.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Kavrick finally said, voice numb. “I – I had never thought Maltin – I had hoped that he would never – Sunlord I hope he never realized that. I hope he never truly – never thought he was a witch, stars, not that. Hells at least as I grew older I was able to know that many priests didn’t bother persecuting people with my preferences, not unless they had some other statement to make or some additional power to gain. Reason to worry, to fear being found out, certainly, but not being told by all and sundry I was a manifestation of utter evil. But to know you had – we were your nightmares, Eldest, how could you bear it?”

“Most days, I did not want to die. Those days death seemed preferable, I had some task or obligation holding me to another dawn that I was unwilling to fail at, and in the intervening time I found other reasons to survive,” Kir replied bluntly, “To be frank, if I had not been exiled to the 62nd I doubt I would have lasted long. I certainly wouldn’t have remained in Karse for so long, if I had been required to burn those I knew were innocents in the course of my duties.”

Kir had never bothered with keeping a journal or some formal record of his thoughts until Asher provided the book and Father Gerichen provided the idea. He had no way to accurately remember what his acolyte self had hoped for as a post once he was ordained.

He was fairly certain he had ceased planning for a future outside of slogging through his studies the day Wes burned. Being ordained with his path already laid out for him, and that path requiring him to fight for the right to live because someone like Phyrrus wanted him dead – well. Refusing to give that man the satisfaction of dying in a plot prompted or encouraged by Phyrrus’ supporters gave him long enough to find a foothold in the duties of a chaplain, to find some small satisfaction in the ministering he was expected to do, in the tasks he was expected to complete, and then it was all too easy to fall back into that habit of taking each day as it came and not thinking further ahead than that.

At least until he ran into Anur in those stables.

Carding his fingers through Anur’s hair, he returned his focus to Kavrick, who had buried his face in his hands again. There was little point in any of them continuing to discuss things, none of them were in a place to actually provide coherent ideas.

“If there is anything – anything – you need to help Maltin, you need only ask,” Kir said finally, “I will need to work with him on those flames, starting tomorrow if at all possible, and if you think it will help, I am perfectly willing to try and approach this issue with him – with your presence or without, whichever you think will be more helpful. You know your student better than I. But that is enough for tonight, Kavrick. I have no idea how any of us will find sleep tonight, but we had all best try. The Conclave starts tomorrow evening after all, and we have a lot to get through.”

“Oh I have ways to make sleep happen,” Kavrick huffed a laugh, pushing himself to his feet. Kir felt some of his worry for the man fade – he looked exhausted, true, but he looked less burdened than when they had started. Than when they had finished, a few short moments ago. Something in his offer of support had truly helped. “My thanks for the drinks, and the discussion. Even if distressing points were made, they were needed. Have a good night, the both of you.”

Anur and he echoed the farewell and sat in silence after the door shut behind him.

Finally Anur shuddered and straightened, Kir looking down to meet his eyes worriedly and Anur smiled faintly, saying, :Today – this whole blasted week – has been full of far too many reminders of all the ways you could have died before I ever met you.:

:And how many of these sorts of stories have I never heard of you by dint of never being in Valdemar to hear them?: Kir asked pointedly, Anur scoffing and rolling his eyes as he stood.

:Oh please, nowhere near as many as you, I lived a life filled with only reasonable Heraldic risk before I met you. Clearly you are the one who was cursed with an interesting life, and I am the poor sod who claimed you as brother and has been dragged along for the stories.:

:Oh you’re the poor sod? I rather think Aelius has a better claim on that title!: Kir retorted, leaving the glasses on a side-table for them to grab the next day and extinguishing the lamps with a thought, following Anur down the hall.

:I do,: Aelius agreed, :I really, really do.:

“Do you think I can get a copy of those notes on tithe assessment? That sounds potentially profitable!”

“Now there’s the Dinesh in him – good question Devin, we’ll have to ask.”

“Well Lukas, not looking good just yet!”

“It’s been three sentences, Nana!”

Chapter Text

Yesterday afternoon may have been unexpectedly dramatic, what with the golden firestorm appearing at Maltin’s humming, of all things, but there was no real reason to update Solaris on it before their scheduled meeting after Midwinter’s Day. Instead, Kir and he attended the morning Ascending service with the other Firestarters – Valerik was still missing, which made Jaina scowl, and Colbern presiding, which meant Tristan was also absent, and Laskaris had yet to arrive, which was worrying – before pulling the students aside for a quick discussion, Kavrick hot on Maltin’s heels.

“You should take this back, Father Kir,” Rodri said, pressing the singing Sun in Glory back into Kir’s hands, “It’s yours, and now that I’m awake I can call my own fire.”

“Very well,” Kir agreed, accepting the Sun in Glory and glancing Maltin’s way when he shuddered, smiling sadly and continuing, “I am going to have to insist we work on this, Maltin. It’s fire, and fire is not safe.”

“First Truth,” the three students chorused, though Maltin’s was definitely the most dispirited of the lot.

“Precisely. Etrius, do you have an estimate on when you and Rodri will be back? I assume as you’re in vestments you won’t be accompanying them, Maltin,” Kir asked.

“Not this time, no,” Maltin replied quietly.

“We should be back from the city by Sixth,” Etrius offered, exchanging a glance with Rodri before replying.

“Then perhaps at Eighth Day, in the central courtyard?” Kir offered, looking between Maltin and Kavrick, “At least two marks before anything involving the Conclave will come up, it can at least give us a starting point. I’m going to spend the morning in the archives tracking down what I can think of for it and can bring that information back to you – yes, Etrius, I will take notes.”

“Thank you, Eldest,” Etrius said brightly, ignoring Rodri’s exasperated glance.

“Eighth Day,” Kavrick agreed for himself and Maltin, resting a hand on his student’s shoulder and murmuring, "I'll be there too, Maltin, if you don’t mind.”

“I’d prefer that,” Maltin admitted, glancing Rodri’s way and smiling faintly, “And I assume Rodri will be joining us?”

“Correct, but your own control will be the main focus. Rodri and I can work with these flames some other time, I’d rather ensure you feel comfortable with your own control first,” Kir replied, all three of the students nodding agreeably before making their excuses and setting off, while the two of them were able to head straight for the archives.

Seras had much the same idea, by the tower of books and scrolls he had built on one of the tables.

“All of these are Flamesinger relevant?” Kir asked, tone definitely incredulous, “I know he is one of our more popular stories but I didn’t think we had that many texts referencing his lifetime!”

“Some of them are a stretch,” Seras admitted, looking up from the text he was skimming and taking notes from. “But as far as I can recall there were no explicit references to golden flames, not outside of literal songs, and even the references to sun-blessed steel common in his legend were bare scraps of story, not much use even in your reconstruction. Going far afield may be necessary.”

“Oh it will be, I agree,” Kir said, running his fingers along embossed spines and humming thoughtfully as he pulled one out of the stack. “And the main archives may have more hidden away. It’s – well. It’s a shame that there weren’t any hidden caches of knowledge here, but a full manual to golden flames as summoned by sun-blessed steel’s song would be a bit much to ask for.”

“And, Maltin’s distress aside, far less fun,” Seras admitted, a rueful smile on his face, “He’s terrified, and rightly so, but this year has been fantastic for research projects. It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages, and far less potentially damning than plotting accidents.”

“Fair enough,” Kir said thoughtfully, looking up from the pages he was reading – from what Anur saw over his shoulder, it was in archaic Karsite and very poetic, and all describing fire burning on Ruby Lake. Anur remembered Kir saying that he suspected a major theme of Flamesinger’s story was strategies for ensuring flames were appropriately beautiful while pirates were burned alive on the waters, but he hadn’t thought Kir had meant there was quite so much literal poetry.

That Bardic Gift theory definitely gained a lot more traction with this, though.

Also, reading an entire stanza about the unique interplay of roaring infernos and agonized screams with a gentle spring breeze to blow smoke away, all wrapped in the flowery language he personally associated with really bad love songs was a uniquely Karsite – and immensely disturbing – experience.

“Yes that paragraph is rather unsettling,” Kir murmured, evidently noticing which part of his book had caught Anur’s eye and setting the text aside, a wistful smile on his face nonetheless, “The rest of it is very pretty, though.”

“Flame mad,” Anur said fondly, pushing Kir forward to actually take a seat and start taking his own notes before examining the stack of titles himself.

“Historical Perspectives on Hymnal Design?” he read aloud, raising an eyebrow, “That would be one of the it’s a stretch ones, I suppose?”

“There’s an interesting piece on why some Fire-themed hymns would be ornamented in gold while others were left as plain text or only basic ink which could be relevant, but yes,” Seras replied, drumming his fingers on the table and ignoring his books for the moment, focused instead on Kir.

“Yes, Seras?” Kir asked, not looking up from the scroll he had grabbed.

“May Etrius and I sit in on your sessions with Maltin and Rodri?”

“…some of them,” Kir agreed, meeting Seras’ gaze and continuing firmly, “But only if both of them agree. And Kavrick. I will gladly answer questions and go over what I said afterwards, if they prefer to have no witnesses. Our first one will be today at Eighth Day.”

“Perfect!” Seras agreed brightly, capping his ink and cleaning off his pen’s nib. “I’ll track down Kavrick and ask – politely and with little to no pressure besides insisting on him taking notes.”

“I already promised Etrius I would take notes on my own research here,” Kir replied, sounding halfway to exasperated, “With this and your text on the Charter rewrite, exactly how many books are you planning to write this year?”

“At least three,” Seras shrugged, “Though I plan to have Etrius write one of them and be a major contributor to the other two, though I’d be hard pressed to have him not do such a thing. If you’ll be taking notes here, I’ll take my and Etrius’ list of references to the main archives and try to get an idea of how useful they might be.”

“Then I shall not keep you, but do take notes yourself, please,” Kir said, returning Seras’ smile and inclining his head when Seras offered a slight bow. Anur simply waved at the most terrifying old man he had ever met – Markov very much included – and waited until he heard the library door shut behind him before he spoke.

“All right, tell me which titles I should put back in their places,” Anur said, pointing at the stack, “Because this is far too large a stack to actually stay piled nicely for longer than a few marks.”

Kir barked a laugh, and started listing off titles.

He was halfway through returning the first armful to their proper places when Kavrick showed up, evidently searching for them.

“Bellamy,” the man said, stopping a few steps away from him and hesitating noticeably before continuing, “If I could speak to you and the Eldest about Maltin?”

“Of course,” Anur agreed, “He’s at the usual table, I just need to finish putting these books away.”

“My thanks,” the man said formally, bowing his head before striding off.

Anur watched him go with a faint frown, sent Kir an alert, and then quickly went to put the rest of his books away. He didn’t want to miss too much of this conversation – and only partially because he was really the only one of them that had any idea what the Bardic Gift actually was.
He had spent enough time in the archives now that he was very familiar with the cataloguing system, so at least the job didn’t take long when he was focused. When he wasn’t he had a tendency to get distracted perusing titles and topics he had never imagined having the chance to examine before.

But even with that, by the time he was able to settle into his usual chair at Kir’s side, Kavrick had received a basic explanation and was rubbing his face tiredly, looking more than a little resigned.

“It would explain – quite a bit, of how much more immersive his illusions can be. It is – rare. But the few times we have practiced his music-based flames near other people they often show signs of – true alarm, true panic, well before the flames are actually near enough to harm them. Part of that could be his illusions, true, but usually those are not so – immediately potent,” Kavrick’s smile was more of a grimace as he continued, “I rather thought his knack for illusions would make him an excellent witch-hunter, when that was still our task. He would be able to scare someone into a life or death reaction without truly endangering them – so long as he could defend himself and was not surrounded by innocents, it could be very useful. Figuring out methods for determining which – which were witches, by the old measure, versus those who could or should be taken for the priesthood, or those who were simply good at reading people or something, no uncanny means required – that has always been very individualized. I had hoped we could use Maltin’s illusions as a basis for his.”

Kir huffed a laugh, admitting, “Trying to determine that distinction – trying to find a consistent methodology, something that didn’t contradict some other method deemed acceptable – was one of the final seals in my certainty that Talented people weren’t witches.”

Kavrick managed an actual smile, though it was rather wry, saying, “One downside of basing our educational system on faith – inconsistencies and contradictions are considered tests of faith more than inherent flaws in arguments and therefore too personal to be discussed.”

“Huh,” Anur commented, “I never really thought of it that way, though that’s a very good point.”

“Oh not everyone does it,” Kavrick allowed, shrugging, “But it makes it far too easy to brush off arguments or questions about inconsistencies with things like ‘the Sunlord will show the way’ or ‘meditate on the issue, it is different for everyone’. Precise lists and processes are comfortable for people, they are safe, but any Firestarter worth their name knew that witch-powers were hard to suss out, particularly if we were also tasked with finding children for the priesthood. Some erred towards taking all to Sunhame and distinguishing the witches from the innocent later, others erred towards burning them all and letting the Sunlord sort them out, but everyone knew that distinguishing one from the other was difficult, though I doubt many truly thought that through to realize that it was actually impossible because many times they were the same.”

“Not always,” Kir said, undoubtedly sensing Anur’s curiousity or even just seeing it, he wasn’t trying hard to hide it, because as horrifying as this conversation was to listen to, it was information he had never heard before. It was information he doubted any Valdemaran had heard before, certainly not in the past however many hundreds of years!

Kir continued with a faintly dismissive gesture, saying, “My classes on selection processes were decades ago, now, and it was never truly my focus. But there were discussions of – not quite quotas, but close enough, and if you ignore the language speaking of advancing the Sunlord’s Chosen Few and offering children the chance to Explore Their Blessings – it was essentially a system designed to take a set percentage of each district’s best and brightest along with some chaff to serve as eventual servants within the District, plus some extras because at least a few each class would be burned as witches. The only allowance made for pulling Talented individuals had everything termed with phrases like Blessed Signs being hard to distinguish, evil hiding so very well, the Sunlord giving us chosen few the insight to hunt down evil.”

“Oh no you had one of the poetic believers,” Kavrick groaned, covering his eyes with one hand, “Gah, those ones were the worst as instructors.”

“It made essay writing very easy,” Kir said ruefully, “I just needed to pretty up the same sentiments over and over, espouse my faith in the Sunlord’s Sacred Few, add some appropriately complicated adjectives, and I was done. Oh, and ensure my handwriting was elegant which took up more space on the page anyway.”

“Valerik ended up going the route of full calligraphy – the gorgeous artwork designs for the first letter, page-border etchings – he would spend a day or two each month prettying up scrolls and pages so all he needed to do was write the actual essay on his prepared papers. Of course it meant every essay he wrote started with the same few letters, but that was easy enough to manage,” Kavrick remembered, a fond ruefulness in his tone, “Also made it impossible for anyone to copy or steal his work to pass off as their own.”

“Always useful,” Kir agreed, tilting his head slightly and continuing, “You do not need to answer, but I must admit I do not understand your and Valerik’s dynamic, it seems antagonistic some days and strong friendship the next.”

“Oh we got off on the wrong foot, and now we simply find it easier to antagonize each other some days, but there is no true malice behind it. At this point I would say he is one of my closest friends, certainly closest allies,” Kavrick said, huffing a laugh and admitting, “He’s the only one that knew about my – preferences, aside from Fredric of course. He walked in on Fredric and I one time when we were all acolytes and proceeded to attempt blackmailing me into covering for some of his barfighting excursions – well. Not barfighting just then, but excursions into the outer districts of Sunhame with a strong preference for the dockyards.”

“You say attempted,” Anur said carefully, brow furrowing and exchanging a rather confused look with Kir because blackmail – blackmail with lethal consequences, in the wrong ears – was not exactly a start to the sort of alliance Kavrick had described and even what they had witnessed the few times they were in the company of both of them.

“Well he wasn’t very good at it,” Kavrick said, lips twitching at the memory, “He seemed to forget that one person covering for him didn’t mean he could stop being cautious!”

“Got caught red-handed, then?” Kir asked wryly.

“His mentor got suspicious and found him trying to sneak in, still more than a little drunk,” Kavrick snorted, shaking his head, “Was absolutely livid to find out this wasn’t the first time, and Valerik was nowhere near sober enough to keep his story straight. He ended up spending a year on magic-leashed lockdown.”

Kir shuddered and Anur shot him a concerned glance, Kir waving it off. Undoubtedly he was thinking about how he would have taken being put on magic-leashed lockdown, whatever that entailed. Nothing good, Anur was certain.

“That’s when he started the calligraphy,” Kavrick continued, eyes crinkling, “Nothing like watching the man you had lived in some terror of having breakdowns because he couldn’t leave the District for any reason whatsoever, even patrols. I ended up sitting down with him a few times – first to watch his suffering, admittedly. But – even with that, even with my practically laughing at him some days, he never sold me out. He never used what he knew to hurt me.

“Built up the courage to ask him about it eventually, and he said that of course he hadn’t, it wouldn’t be right. I had kept my end of the bargain, so he kept his. That sort of – militant fairness, I suppose, was rare. Is rare. Between that, being close enough in schooling – and Fredric and I having agreed continuing our relationship was too risky, with our training becoming more advanced and individualized, so I had little to no distractions outside the Hall – well. We became allies, or at least not antagonistic, and it is difficult to avoid becoming somewhat friends with someone you don’t despise and have cause to at least slightly respect.”

“Don’t despise and at least slightly respect, is it?” Anur paraphrased, grinning at Kir, who rolled his eyes at him and returned the smile, “How familiar!”

“And here I thought it was all the liquor,” Kir retorted.

Kavrick huffed a laugh, saying, “You two really will have to go out drinking with him sometime.”

“Can’t yet,” Anur replied, “I want a bar fight or two, and Valerik still thinks we don’t know about the bail-out fund.”

“Though that might be changing,” Kir commented, looking over his shoulder, “Can we help you, Jaina?”

Turning around, Anur had to do a double-take. Jaina was wearing the clothes of a middling-wealthy merchant-wife – sturdy boots, thick woolen skirt with basic but decent quality embroidery, a slightly faded but still good quality coat with nicely carved buttons – most startling, though, were the marriage braids. It was a truly jarring look, especially on a woman he knew for a fact was unmarried and uninterested in ever being married – also rather amusing, as it was a distinctly Karsite custom. He hadn’t been around many women in Karse, especially married ones, but he had apparently thoroughly internalized that hairstyle as a signal.

“Valerik has yet to return, and it is a High Holy Week!” she practically snarled, before very carefully breathing out and continuing with a gritted-teeth smile, “Care to join me in bailing out our idiot older brother Val?”

“Oh I am not missing this for the world!” Anur replied gleefully.

=pagebreak=

He somehow always managed to forget how much their uniforms changed things – walking Sunhame in plainclothes was a very different experience, which he intellectually knew, but it was something else to experience it. The route Jaina led them on ducked out of the District in the middle of Sixth, then following the Inner Rim Road – and managing not to get distracted in Seventh’s holiday market – before heading further out along one of the Rays and properly entering Outer Eighth.

This was apparently her usual route – her usual route, her usual exchanges of greetings, her usual under-her-breath grumbling about her idiot brother he had promised this time that utter liar – and Kir exchanged more than a few bemused looks with Anur as they followed in her wake. It was one thing to hear joking stories and exasperated tales of Valerik’s bail-outs, but it was entirely another to actually see Jaina in her guise of Jana, Val’s long suffering younger and far more responsible sister.

How long had she been doing this? Who had bailed him out before Jaina started?

He snickered at the idea of Armand doing this, and waved off Anur’s curious look. It would take too much explaining, and of the two people here, Jaina was the only one who would properly appreciate the utter disaster of Armand acting as anyone other than His Holiness the Incandescent. Maybe some other time.

Finally they reached the Outer Eighth guard station and Jaina waited for them to catch up before heading in, the two of them trailing her as she headed straight for the desk sergeant, a man she greeted by name.

“Looking for Val, Jana?” the so-named Sergeant Oskar said, sounding amused, “Didn’t think he’d be here for High Holy Week. Let me check the logs. You men are with Jana?”

“Yes,” Kir replied shortly, not sure how Jaina planned to fit them into the story, because she very clearly had a plan.

Sure enough, she immediately huffed a laugh and said, “Our younger brother, Kir, and his sworn brother, Anur. First time in years he’s been able to make it back during winter and of course they get to spend their first morning tracking Val down.”

“Our day was so busy otherwise,” Anur replied dryly, rolling his eyes. There were a few chuckles at that, but the desk sergeant’s amusement was fading fast as he read whatever notes were in the log books.

“He’s not listed as in bail – doesn’t look like anyone ran into him last night, Jana. He didn’t send word to you he’d be late?”

“Of course he didn’t, why would he send word to me? I’m only the woman bailing his sorry ass out every damn morning,” she said, practically growling towards the end of that before sighing heavily and continuing, “Apologies. He’s just been so good about this High Holy Week deal.”

“We can at the very least put the word out to keep an eye out for him – and either give him a heads up it’s time to set his affairs in order or drag him into a cell to sleep it off,” the sergeant offered, Jaina agreeing to the exact deal they had wanted and filling out some sort of paperwork while Kir tried to figure out what other methods they had for tracking Valerik down.

He highly doubted Valerik had simply forgotten.

“Do I know you?” a somewhat familiar voice asked and Kir looked up, startled to see the Sector Captain was standing nearby, staring at Anur with a bemused and verging on perplexed expression on his face.

“I – you do look familiar,” Anur agreed, brow furrowing as he returned the man’s examination and ignoring the attention they were starting to draw, especially as Jaina had finished up whatever paperwork she had and was walking over to Kir. “But hell if I can remember where we know you from, Kir, any ideas?”

By the slightly stunned look in the man’s eyes, his name had been recognized, but that didn’t help Kir remember where they knew him from at all –

:The Plains job! With the rogue empath, that’s the one you saved right in the gate!: Aelius cried, sounding rather triumphant and fair enough, that had been years ago and they’d hardly spoken to the man past that initial rescue and some debriefing.

“Marghi, wasn’t it? You were Senior Leiutenant at the time, congratulations on the promotion,” Kir said, Anur managing to hold back his enlightened, “Aha!” until Kir had actually spoken aloud.

“Thank you,” the man said, still sounding more than a little blindsided before near visibly shaking it off and continuing thoughtfully, “Actually if the two of you have a bit of time – I wouldn’t mind sharing news with you, you’re undoubtedly better informed on the northern reaches than I am at this point.”

“Probably,” Anur agreed to the latter, but waited for Kir to finish consulting Jaina before nodding to the Captain and accepting the first offer on their behalf, “And we’ve got some time, sounds like. See you in a bit, Jana.”

“If either of you two go missing before this afternoon, I will not be held responsible for my own actions,” Jaina said darkly, the chuckling guardsmen very much underestimating how dangerous that statement was.

“Perhaps Kari would know where Val is?” Kir suggested, Jaina sighing and nodding theatrically before actually heading out the door.

“My office then, if you don’t mind,” Captain Marghi said, looking far more at ease now that he knew who they were and the remaining tension in the room fading with his. However long he had been stationed here, his men knew him well enough to read his mood rather accurately.

They were led through a corridor holding offices and storage rooms and basic bunkrooms – nowhere near enough for the guardsmen necessary for a Sector Station, which implied they did have homes in the city proper, how strange – before heading up a stairwell to a second level holding an assembly room with plentiful seating and desks, detailed maps of Sunhame and this sector in particular as well as the Sector Captain’s private office. The eight or so men working at said desks on paperwork or muttering to each other about patrols and patterns they had noticed looked up briefly, but quickly returned to their work when Captain Marghi only nodded at them. Marghi waved the two of them in and shut the door, bolting it before turning to them and hesitating before focusing on Kir and offering a more formal bow, saying quietly, “Your Holiness.”

“Kir Dinesh,” he offered, waiting a moment before continuing, “It is good to see you well, Captain, I am glad that – whatever damage might have been done was not impossible to live with.”

Any hope this really was just about a Sunsguard gossip swap warped straight into worry at Marghi’s hollow laugh, the Captain shaking his head and saying, “Not for lack of trying, Holiness. I was planning to go to the District in the next few days to seek your Order out, actually. I have – since that day I have noticed that the thought of suicide occurs more frequently than before – absurdly frequently, any slightly negative deviation in my routine and I find myself halfway through plotting my own hanging it is – not a compulsion, there is no desperate desire to follow through, but I’m constantly thinking on it and it is – it is exhausting, Holiness. The days it never occurs to me are few and far between.”

The man inhaled sharply and near visibly braced himself, for what Kir could not fathom, because right now he was simply horrified on his behalf.

“I do not have particular experience with the aftermaths of compulsions made by the Talent you were assaulted with,” Kir admitted finally, exchanging a worried look with Anur, “Though that sort of scarring – it seems consistent. To force someone to suicide – someone to whom the thought has not occurred, has not been lurking – so quickly as Ensign Nacht managed takes a lot of power, a lot of force. And the greater that effort, the deeper the furrows it digs in your mind, at least for standard compulsions and coercion workings, I see no reason that a Talent would differ from more standard mage-craft in that aspect.”

“You don’t?” Marghi asked, sounding surprised before wincing and sending Anur an awkward glance, “I assumed, I suppose, that – I wasn’t the only one suffering this.”

“I didn’t experience anything like that,” Anur said, hesitating before offering, “I do have mental shielding, though, that might have – mitigated things?”

:Kir, I didn’t experience anything like this,: Anur elaborated silently, :And I don’t remember Devek or Galen mentioning anything along these lines either.:

:I noticed – something like that, but they didn’t stick around,: Aelius inserted, sounding concerned, :As a Companion I can offer some mental healing to you, particularly when it’s due to outside forces rather than – well. Rather than your own actually experienced traumas. I did so, but it wasn’t particularly necessary, they were already fading on their own, I just sped it up. But that doesn’t explain the other two.:

:As for your theory, Kir, I don’t see any reason why Empathy would act differently to mage-craft in that respect. With Anur’s… damage I was able to deal with, it seems likely that is the cause. For Koshiro and Sescha I have no idea why they weren’t impacted. Would they have mentioned something like this?: Aelius continued, adding, :And the only thing I can think of as a definite remedy rather than – well. Whatever ends up being our best guess as to what these three had that the Captain didn’t and doesn’t is another Empath, a trained mind-healer. I do not know what the equivalent in Karse is.:

:Soul-healer maybe?: Anur supplied dubiously, :Isn’t that what Loshern is training Anika as?:

:I believe so. I’ll ask Solaris – shame we can’t simply ask the man directly,: Kir said sourly before focusing on the matter at hand, and the man that was waiting for him to continue speaking aloud.

:I’ll ask Kari for advice,: Aelius announced.

“It can’t only be that,” Kir continued aloud, following up on the part of the conversation Marghi could hear himself, explaining to the Captain, “Anur was impacted, but so was now Captain Koshiro and Second Scout Galen Sescha – neither of them have mental shielding to my knowledge.”

“Devek definitely doesn’t,” Anur said, raising an eyebrow, “Or Cora would have said something.”

“It’s unlikely he has mental shielding, yes,” Kir agreed, “The twins might have picked up something from their kinsmen but Koshiro, probably not. Also, try to remind me we need to follow up with Kalesh on the bishra aftermath as well.”

“Those stories actually happened?” Marghi asked, voice strangled and he coughed when they both looked his way, the Captain bowing his head slightly and saying, “Apologies, Holiness, I – had heard those rumors, about a bishra out in the mountains but had rather hoped they were just that.”

“They were unfortunately very real,” Kir replied, “I will reach out to both of those men and ask them if they noticed any such patterns and if so how they counteracted them. For you though – off the top of my head, I cannot think of an immediate way to help. I can think of some that will take a bit of time to implement, and have ideas of people I can ask for more details.” 

“And I am so very sorry that it did not occur to me to reach out to you about this before,” he finished quietly, because he owed the man that and more. They had ridden out after that mission shaking the dust from their boots and never looking back, not really. Anika Brersi he had arranged to follow up with, Cora Varus he was planning to check in on this next trek north, Rodri he had spent moons fretting over and making arrangements for. But the men of the 83rd? Men so very similar to the ones he had spent years preserving and tending to?

He had not given them a second thought.

Some chaplain he was.

“I appreciate even the willingness to try,” Marghi said, sounding exhausted, “I was – worried that there was nothing. That admitting to – that calling it a witch-power, even just in that one instance, would end badly.”

“It would be corrected, but nothing more severe,” Anur said, shrugging, “We slip up still too, even referring to them innocuously, much less referring to an instance where such a power was the source of horror. Captain, what was done to you was wrong. The fact it was a Talent as opposed to mage-craft as opposed to some more mundane blackmail or coercion does nothing to change that – though to be fair, someone threatening a loved one or the equivalent would not exactly carve furrows into your mind but mage-craft, not unilaterally condemned in the old regime, would.”

“At the very least there are mental techniques that one can use even without a Talent of your own to help prevent such an attack – by Talent, at least – from succeeding again. Mental shielding, as we mentioned,” Kir continued, “I have never actually taught someone without a Talent of their own but I know it can be done, and will gladly look into that for you as well.”

“I want to learn that,” the man said immediately, looking so very relieved even when all he could for certain be offered was a form of defense against future attacks, no relief from the scars he currently lived with, “I need to learn that, please, Your Holiness.”

“I will ensure it is done,” Kir promised, another thought occurring to him and he added, “I can craft a magic-based working that will at the very least offer some defense in the meantime. It is not as effective, and I rather doubt you will notice anything different about your surroundings or your mental state while using it, but it will be something.”

“The enchanted Sun in Glory?” Anur asked needlessly, continuing at Kir’s nod, “Lumira mentioned wanting to ask about those anyway, apparently there was mention of making one for Laskaris as a bit of a reassurance? Could be a way to get more of them crafted quickly, depending on how long it takes to make one.”

“She would definitely be capable of making them, based on that spear she co-enchanted,” he replied agreeably, very nearly citing Jaina as well before catching himself, “Don’t let me forget.”

“Most definitely,” Anur smiled.

:Eldest, Aelius just finished explaining and I believe I can help,: Kari spoke up, sounding justifiably worried. :Not as well as a true soul-healer, you’re right to say they would be necessary for a full healing but I can at least offer some ease, I think.:

“Ah. Captain, are you expected anywhere soon?” Kir redirected aloud, taking in Marghi’s rather bemused look at the sudden conversational shift and smiling wryly, offering, “A – well. More of an expert than me thinks he may be able to offer some immediate assistance. If you have the time?”

“I have a meeting here in a mark, not exactly enough time to get to the District and back – I could come after my shift?” Marghi offered.

Kir shook his head, looking to the corner when Fire’s Song blared like a trumpet and left Kari behind in golden flames. How had he not noticed that song before? It was so very loud!

“Kari can come to us,” he said simply, the Captain staring in slack-jawed shock at the legend sitting in his office.

“This is Honored Kari,” he introduced, Marghi jolted out of his shock and offering a deep bow.

“In addition to the potential immediate assistance, with Kari knowing your presence, he can bring you the shielded working directly once it is completed,” Kir said, Kari inclining his head and speaking himself now, Marghi inhaling sharply and not quite managing to hide his flinch at the mental voice.

It at least looked like a reaction borne out of surprise, rather than pain.

:And, Captain, on seeing you I do believe I can be of more immediate assistance – at least lessening the trauma your mind has endured. It requires a similar degree of mental contact, however, so I can only offer this aid if you consent.:

“I – what will it do?” Marghi asked, looking shaken and swallowing nervously, going to one knee in front of the Cat and focusing on Kari directly, “It will not – make new thoughts? Like these ones?”

:No, Captain. What I would seek to do is – well. Fill in the furrows, essentially. They would not be gone, not entirely, but they would be less dramatic. It would make it a little less easy for your mind to follow that track so relentlessly. A little easier for you to turn those thoughts aside. Any further would require a proper soul-healing, which we do have the resources to pursue and will do so, but that will take time to arrange.:

“And this assistance you can offer now, is it truly immediate or will it take time to recover from?” Marghi asked, eyes narrowing. His nerves had faded, which was a relief to see.

:It would probably be best done before you rest or sleep, to allow things to settle properly,: Kari conceded, the Captain nodding sharply and standing again.

“Then I will wait,” he said firmly, looking between the three of them, “You honor me, truly, but I would not want to start this when I cannot in good conscience finish it. If it remains possible, I can come to the District after my shift to do this, Honored Kari – excuse me, I’m sorry, sir, is – are you the Kari that he mentioned?” Marghi was distinctly incredulous at the end, and took in Kir’s rueful smile and Kari’s nod with disbelief, continuing, “Val knows a Firecat? Is this because he is your brother…”

Kir could practically see the man making the necessary connections, and was rather pleased when he gave a heavy sigh and asked, “Do you mean to tell me that Val – Val – is a Firestarter?”

“I haven’t told you anything,” Kir replied blandly, Anur snickering while the Captain managed to restrain himself to narrowed eyes, Kir huffing a laugh before admitting, “He is a Firestarter, yes. I assure you he uses these excursions as stress relief and entertainment – never as some sort of patrol effort, though depending on the crime he stumbles upon, I believe he passes on the information?”

“If innocents – well, relative innocents, in those parts – are at risk, he reports it,” Marghi agreed, looking thoughtful, “And Jana is as well, then? Calling them your siblings isn’t even a lie, that is – well. I wouldn’t say clever, necessarily, but it is a satisfying play on words, Your Holiness.”

“I thought so as well!” Anur cheered, as well he should considering the sheer volume of times he’d side-stepped the literal truth with similar not-lies.

“Hmm. Stress relief, you said, sir?” Marghi smiled wryly at Kir’s nod and continued, “I’ll keep it to myself then. He’s gone to a lot of effort to be a familiar and utterly civilian face here – would hate to ruin it for no real reason.”

“I’ll inform Jaina – Jana – that you know of their status,” Kir said, “Hopefully you never run into a reason to properly identify either of them when they’re in their guises, though.”

“Oh agreed, I have no idea how that sort of thing would come up but it would undoubtedly be dramatic,” the Captain agreed, looking thoughtful, “Actually, sir, does this mean you do know where Val is? If it could be arranged for him to be found or seen about sometime today, that would be appreciated. I would not say he has friends here, per se, but he is definitely known, and at least some of the men will be actively keeping an eye out for him.”

:Looking for him is my next order of business, I will pass that request along,: Kari said, tilting his head and offering, :If you do wish to come to the District for this, you are of course welcome, but if you would prefer I come to you at some point this evening, I can also do that. Simply say my name – and think of wanting me there – and I will be alerted and come as soon as I can, or at least inform you of any delay.:

“That – might be necessary,” Marghi said, huffing a tired laugh, “It’s nearly Midwinter, and it is quite the pilgrimage year.”

“We rode in yesterday, trust me, we know,” Anur replied wryly.

“You say you’re leaving within a week of Midwinter’s day? You might want to push that back as long as possible, let the crowds disperse a bit,” Marghi suggested, before looking at Kir and snorting, “Ah. Never mind. Suppose your uniform would clear a path, reforms or no, Your Holiness.”

“It does,” Kir agreed ruefully, “Which on the one hand, I dislike, as the primary reason for it is fear. On the other hand – it’s very useful.”

“One of these days it’ll be out of respect more than fear,” Anur promised, bumping their shoulders together, “Might take a while, but it’ll happen.”

“So we hope,” Kir replied, smiling when Kari bumped his head against his hand for a few ear scratches before leaping into a sunbeam for an appropriately dramatic vanishing.

Marghi stared for an awestruck moment before shaking it off again and turning to them, offering another bow and saying, “Thank you, Your Holiness, Enforcer, for your assistance. I will keep an ear out for any information regarding Val.”

“Our thanks. If there is nothing else?” Kir prompted, the Captain shaking his head and escorting them to the door of his office, waving them through.

“We’ll keep an eye out for Val, and let you know if we find him,” he repeated for their new audience, leading the way down the stairs and back to the front of the building, “If you find him, if that could be passed along so we know not to spend effort on the issue, that would be appreciated.”

“Oh don’t worry, Captain. If we find him, I have no doubt Jana will be dragging him in by the ear to apologize to everyone for causing a problem,” Kir replied dryly, the desk sergeant and a few of the guardsmen in earshot chuckling at that, while their Captain looked bemused more than anything.

He was probably rethinking every Jana and Val story he’d heard and witnessed in light of their actual identities. It would take a bit of processing, but Kir was sure he would end up finding the stories even more amusing thanks to that.

They had barely made it to the first turn when Kari gave an alarmed call, :I can’t find Valerik – but more critically, Rodri’s found something you two need to see!:

Anur found a deserted alleyway for them to duck into, Kari appearing at their feet and barely pausing before starting to Jump with them in tow, and Kir couldn’t quite resist.

“No curse, you say?”

“Oh come on!”

“Follow up – on mental shield necklaces – and soul-healing – exorcists…”

“Wow, Uncle Kir was really holding out on adventure stories!”

“Thank you, thank you, I will take my victory with grace and dignity befitting a – “

“Oh shut up, Lukas, we need to actually know what this all is before you can declare it a victory to you! Reacquainting themselves with a Sunsguard officer is hardly high enough drama for that!”

Chapter Text

There was no curse.

Had there been a curse, it would have only been put into action three days prior to all the events being taken as a manifestation of the curse, and while the golden firestorm could be argued, the seeds for these events had been planted moons, if not years ago. But Midwinter was a High Holy Day, which meant more people in Sunhame than normal, more members of the priesthood in Sunhame than normal, and cold enough weather that people tended to hunker down in their homes or the local alehouse, and wear bulky clothes and scarves and hats that would render one’s twin unrecognizable.

For the right sort of plan, with the right set of goals, it was the ideal time.

A man named Garth Nolans had hugged his sister last night, and known he might never see her again. She had locked the door behind him, and known that their plan might have signed her death warrant or worse.

But he had spent years under Darius’ thumb, bowing his head to that liar Bertrand’s whims, and he and Maude had spent well over a year trying to get their hands on enough material and enough information that perhaps he could get out. Perhaps he could actually get them dealt with. Emminence Solaris’ Ascent had been welcome, because her reforms were so very needed and the way she was restructuring the Sunsguard sadly necessary, but it had been terribly timed. In the chaos of last year’s Midwinter, Maude and he had slipped up and Bertrand had managed to hatch a scheme that left Garth and Maude with no one who would listen and nowhere else to turn.

He had managed, between the connections he’d made trying to work around his masters and the very few who trusted him when he said he hadn’t wanted to be a monster, had tried to mitigate what his squad of bully-boys had done. Things hadn’t been going smoothly, he and Maude hadn’t been what he would call secure, but they were managing.

Then people started cancelling orders they’d held with Maude’s baking business for years and he opened a door to a meeting with an ally and found Bertrand waiting for him instead.

“You wanted to retire from the Sunsguard and be an ale-maker, once,” Garth told the man he’d just finished clubbing unconscious.

Being Corporal in a squad of bully-boys had been a nightmare, but one of the worst things had been watching the reams of newcomers get brought in with dreams of helping, with dreams of not being monsters, and get broken down into the same sorts of wretches they all were. He’d never been able to save them all. He’d barely managed to get any of them transferred out or injured badly enough they had to be off duty, giving him the chance to distract Darius.

He hadn’t managed to save this one. Garth didn’t kid himself though, if they both survived this he’d damn near kill himself trying again.

Frisking the unconscious man he found the keys he was looking for and the color-coded beaded bracelet that was far more important. Only then did he pull some of the hobbles he’d appropriated from the Sunsguard over the years and tied him into a securely bound but seated upright position. Would at least give a bit of pause to anyone who peeked down the passage.

Glancing over the door he needed to get through, Garth ran his fingers along the top of the door frame and counted the deep divots carved into it by men who had been asked to remember far too many things to manage without aids. Seven in a row, a gap, then three, a longer gap, then two. Right then.

He found the right bead to start – the bracelet held twenty beads, and the count started from the only wooden one. Insert the key and turn it once, hold the seventh bead to the first corner of the metal-plate holding the lock, go back three beads and hold that one to the next corner for long enough to turn the key twice more, then go forward two beads and hold that to the center of the plate. Wait a four count, then open the door.

Gah he had forgotten how heavy these doors were.

Swearing under his breath and thanking everything that the hinges were at least well-oiled, he carefully propped the door open and picked up his small oil-lamp.

Hells, Val looked bad.

Nothing dramatic, no blood or even serious bruising, but it was damn cold in here and Val wasn’t even shivering. His breath was barely clouding the air, but at least he was breathing. Garth quickly did a check for less obvious serious injuries, but anything more was beyond him and leaving Val behind wasn’t really an option. Rearranging the bindings so Val wouldn’t be too uncomfortable or off balance if he woke up mid-carry, Garth hauled him up over his shoulder and headed for the door.

They had to get through three maintained passages, at least four not so maintained passages, and if they were lucky, he’d be able to use finding Val to get in the door, instead of having it slammed in his face.

=pagebreak=

“Tristan make it to the dawn service or are we lying for him?” Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow and moving over so Fabron could climb up on the paddock fence next to him.

“Father Colbern was presiding, his absence was expected on our end,” Fabron replied, rubbing his face tiredly, “Think anyone outside the Order would find it odder for him to be at the main service without anyone else. No one will ask.”

“He talking again at least?”

“Took a few marks and a few drinks even after you left, but yes,” Fabron snorted, shaking his head, “Thanks for helping with that last night.”

“Words are hard,” Conrad shrugged, “He can’t talk some days, and letters don’t stay still long enough for me to read them most of the time. His bad luck that he had enough magic it was fires or priesthood instead of getting to enter the service corps.”

“At least we’ve gotten him to consistently admit that the priesthood is preferable to the fires,” Fabron grimaced, shaking his head, “Depending on how this whole Hardornen border thing shakes out, he might leave.”

“And go where?” Conrad replied, “You at least could work with horses, you have something of a trade, but Tristan? What trade could he possibly fall back on if he left?”

“Don’t know,” he admitted quietly, “It’s why I’m hoping he doesn’t.”

Conrad and he had been yearmates, but with his difficulty reading Conrad had been pulled into serving the District without being a priest fairly early. Fabron had worried when he’d vanished and tracked him down; when he’d found out Conrad was apprenticed to the stables he’d been jealous enough he’d refused to talk to him for a few moons. Thankfully he’d gotten over that, having Conrad around and willing to put him to work in the stables had made these past years a lot more bearable.

Having someone on the outside to help with the forever ongoing fallout of the whole Colbern-Tristan disaster had been Sunlord sent.

“Hmm. Well, worst come to worst, send him my way more often and I’ll get him a solid enough grounding he can at least get some sort of work with horses, if we don’t manage to talk him out of leaving,” Conrad said, hopping down from the fence and shading his eyes from the brilliant glare off some of the gilded roofs. “I assume you’re helping out today?”

“At least for a few marks,” Fabron agreed, following on Conrad’s heels.

“Good, then you’ll help me rotate the overnight pasture set and get the first gelding batch turned out. You can take the two beauties,” Conrad said, grinning when Fabron immediately perked up and picked up his pace a bit, because the Eldest and his Enforcer’s horses were gorgeous and, strange bias against very light blondes aside, so well behaved. He wouldn’t actually try it, because if something went wrong he’d die of shame and possibly also just die, but he and Conrad were both convinced that if they just opened the paddock gate and the stall doors for those two, they’d happily traverse the distance with no escort whatsoever.

Maybe one day he’d try it.

Even better, since he and Tristan had spent a mark prepping all the grain buckets last night, Conrad didn’t have to supervise grain apportioning and could instead spend a few moments watching the new herd composition straighten out their pecking order – but really, watching the best two.

“I could watch those two all day,” Conrad said, giving an admiring sigh when the Eldest’s roan spun and launched into a lope for a few strides, coming to a halt next to the Enforcer’s paint with all herd-matters apparently settled, “They have incredible conformation. Coloring too, which is a damn rare combination.”

“Whoever gelded the Eldest’s roan should be ashamed of themselves,” Fabron agreed.

“They should be stabbed,” Conrad scowled, “Stabbed for stupidity and never allowed near horses again! At least the stablemaster only suggested the paint after the two of them nearly broke down doors to attack the Heirophant, that sort of behavior can’t be tolerated.”

“Never happened again though,” Fabron pointed out, having asked after that sort of thing.

“Something’s odd about that horse – well, both of them, but that one in particular,” Conrad muttered, lowering his voice as he continued wryly, “Never seen a stallion so damn uninterested in herd pecking-orders, and the others let them stay out of it. Given, we don’t turn them out with mares or our few studs, just groups of geldings, but there should at least be some sort of re-establishment games with how seldom they’re here, but there’s nothing more than what you just saw.”

“Bizarre,” Fabron commented, brow furrowing, because there had been hardly anything. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume this set got turned out with one another all the time and had the herd dynamics entirely figured out.

“Blasted uncanny is what it is,” Conrad snorted, shaking his head, “Right then. A few marks, you said? I’ve got some hooves to take care of, you hold their heads and get me caught up on the latest Brahnas gossip. Did Kevan ever get back to you on the roan?”

“Actually, yes!” Fabron replied, following Conrad back into the stables and exchanging nods with the precious few stablehands that didn’t shy away from him anymore. It had been a years long campaign to get a few to properly chat horses with him, though getting an in with the Brahnases had certainly helped.

When Lumira had truly realized how horse-mad he was, she had rolled her eyes and handed him off to Elder Jaina to learn about their Order’s long-standing deal with one of the finest horse-training families in Karse. The fact that he could regularly correspond with some of the Brahnases, actually counted some of the clan’s cousins as near friends, never failed to make his stable-lurking child-self squeal with glee.

The fact that he could then leverage that letter-writing and almost-friendship to build connections within the District’s stables was no one’s business but his own. If he had collected the occasional story of other Firestarters the Brahnases had met over the decades and used those fragments to build what he thought was a fuller picture of the people he had to declare kin, had to claim as brethren, that was also entirely his prerogative.

“Got six to trim today, one set of shoes. Let’s do the shoes first, it’s the liver mare with the diamond shaped snip,” Conrad said, strapping the leather chaps on and snagging a rolling cart with his farrier tools.

Fabron went ahead and grabbed his gelding en route, he was one of the six trims Conrad had to get done today, and took the time to figure out what exactly he had told Conrad, because it had been a few moons since they’d had a chance to properly chat horses, between his own travels and Conrad’s tithe-assessment season woes.

“Your younger set should be getting Brahnas horses this year, right?” Conrad asked, checking the mare’s legs.

“Maltin at least,” Fabron agreed, “Plan to bring it up this Conclave. Hopefully I can tag along and actually listen in on the training tip conversation, because that horse has some top-notch training and he somehow managed that without any of the Brahnas foundation.”

“No way it’s the same horse, then?”

“None at all,” Fabron confirmed, shaking his head, “Kevan says the original horse was gelded young and far too particular about who he worked with to be truly useful for their needs, but still good enough he was a wrench to part with. With our assessment on how the horse moves and eats – not possible. The original gelding would be twenty-four by now and well past the point of pasturing. If he had to guess, he’d put money on the original being killed in the first five or six years, then replaced by the Sunsguard and trained by Father Kir to his old standards, and he’d also figure on that cycle repeating at least once.”

Conrad let out a low whistle, cracking his back after finishing the shoe-removal and trims on the right side and working his way around to the other, “Well, if you get to go, make sure you take notes. Would love the chance to hear how he trained two cavalry horses up to anywhere near Brahnas standard.”

“Oh I will take all the notes,” Fabron promised, “Besides, I need to try and convince the Enforcer to accept a stud-fee offer from them.”

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s basically free money,” Conrad snorted.

“I know, I know,” Fabron sighed heavily, “But if I prepare arguments just in case, I’ll be ready.”

“Fair enough,” his friend agreed, “Well, we can give another attempt at getting a look at the gelding’s teeth, but…”

“Yeah, let’s not, I nearly lost a finger,” Fabron grimaced, “Of all the things to not have excellent training in.”

“I’ve seen him tack that gelding up, he takes the bit with no problems at all and eats grain from the hand even. I’d bet the Incendiary just never trained him to tolerate multiple people, especially not with what you say about the original horse being particular. Might think it’s normal behavior.”

“Might find it helpful, even,” Fabron said thoughtfully, “I’ll see if I can work it into conversation. Anyway, what’s the latest gossip on this end? You manage to make sure Austreben got first dibs on this year’s tithe-collection?”

“I did! Ear to the ground says he’s found a good footing as a scholar, but damn if I wouldn’t like to have him working for me, he brushed straight past all the eye-flash and found the best little gelding, they’re going to go far together,” Conrad said, pulling a fresh shoe from his cart and checking it for fit.

If there was a better way to spend a morning than listening to a friend’s chatter in a sunlit courtyard off a stable, with all the background noise and scents that came with, Fabron had yet to find it.

They were wrapping up with the last horse when Fabron spotted a familiar face, glancing over his shoulder and smiling, “Laskaris! You made it in, then.”

“Just finished putting Breha up, yes,” the priest said, raising an eyebrow at him, “Am I good to walk straight into the Hall or were you lurking here to intercept me?”

“Not the original intention but it serves just as well,” Fabron realized, glancing Conrad’s way and his friend waved a hand dismissively, straightening and calling one of the actual stablehands over to finish out assisting.

“Between you and Tristan you saved me and mine a fair bit of work this morning, thanks for that,” Conrad said, “Keep me posted on the Brahnas trip.”

“Oh I will,” he promised, returning Conrad’s forearm clasp and handing the current mare’s lead off to his replacement before heading for Laskaris, falling into stride with him easily. Lumira had been his primary instructor, but she and Laskaris had worked together closely for as long as he’d known either of them, and from their stories they’d been working together since their unselected initiate days. Having either of them as a mentor essentially resulted in a co-mentor arrangement.

“So, what’s happened?” Laskaris prompted once they were out of the stables.

“There’s been an interesting development in Maltin’s abilities – have you gotten a chance to see any of the Eldest’s sun-blessed steel?”

“The arrowheads that were left behind as samples, a bit of time with that spearhead when it was being enchanted,” Laskaris replied, humming thoughtfully and continuing, “The Eldest has mentioned hearing fire, and Rodri talked about sun-blessed steel singing. That the connection?”

“Yes, and a fairly dramatic one at that,” Fabron grimaced at the memory, “It seems Maltin can hear whatever it is they do, at least with the Sun-in-Glory Rodri designed – ”

“Wait, Rodri can produce sun-blessed steel? I thought he hadn’t even started learning that yet!” Laskaris interrupted, Fabron quickly elaborating.

“No, no he designed a Sun in Glory where the rays are those arrowheads, he worked with those smiths they know to create a molded conglomerate piece, he didn’t produce sun-blessed steel himself,” he said, smiling faintly as he remembered Rodri delivering the gift, “It’s lovely work, he did a very good job with it. Anyway, Maltin heard the rest of us talking about it and the Eldest offered him the chance to examine it when they came across us in the library yesterday. From what was said… he heard that song Rodri and the Eldest hear and tried humming along with it.”

“All right…”

“Which started a middling-sized firestorm composed of purely golden flames that the Eldest sensed coming soon enough to call an alarm and keep Maltin from burning himself alive and evacuate the library via Kari,” Fabron continued, rather pleased with himself when Laskaris started spluttering halfway through the sentence.

“Enforcer Anur realized what was happening faster than we all did and started delegating, Etrius and I only made it into the courtyard after everything had been contained, but from what Tristan said they had to throw up a six-point containment so the Eldest didn’t need to worry about reining in the storm and Jaina had to head in to get Maltin responding, he was terrified. Interestingly, Maltin was able to dispel the firestorm by whistling what the Eldest described as ‘the most jarring note you can find’ when compared to the song of the storm, and Jaina said he suggested a potential reread of Flamesinger’s saga where the silent gong is in fact a silencing gong,” he finished the summary, smiling and adding, “Don’t worry, no one got stories started. Lumira even said she couldn’t ask too many questions, because you’d be furious if you missed it.”

“I am furious I missed it!” Laskaris cried, “Please tell me they haven’t started training yet, I can probably find a good vantage point even if they don’t want observers at first.”

“Witnesses are up to Maltin,” Fabron replied, “The Eldest did seem more than willing to discuss things and do research with people on this outside of the lessons though. He apparently only just figured out fine control of the golden flames himself, they’re somehow distinct from everyday fire.”

“Fascinating,” Laskaris murmured, the pair of them walking in silence for a time while Laskaris thought all of that over.

“That means Etrius is the next one up for a dramatic disaster, doesn’t it?” he finally said, sounding a little whimsical, and Fabron frowned at him.

“Only if you restrict your pool to the students,” he replied, “But yes, I suppose Etrius is due. He hasn’t had one at all, from what I remember.”

“No he hasn’t,” Laskaris agreed, smiling faintly, “I’d have to consult the records, but I’m fairly certain if he makes it to ordination with the same record he’ll have the lowest damage-repair costs in decades, easily, maybe even a century.”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, part of that is probably the old tendency to have cohorts of students,” Laskaris shrugged, grimacing, “Clustered damages together and divided by the number of students in a cohort, rather than each student having their own tally. I rather doubt Bron would have had any damages associated to his name, but he was in the Eldest and Jaina’s cohort.”

“She really needs her own title,” Fabron said, frowning, “Now that she’s not Incendiary.”

“Seras was hunting for one, it doesn’t seem like there’s ever been a retired Incendiary before,” Laskaris smirked, “Which means we get to make one. Lumira said she had some ideas.”

“She never mentioned that!” Fabron protested, scowling, “I would be excellent at coming up with titles!”

“Yours would actually sound legitimate, that’s not what we’re looking for.”

“That’s what I’m looking for!”

:Firestarters, we have a situation,: Kari’s broadcast cut straight across Laskaris’ attempt to retort, Fabron wincing at the sudden voice but managing a better reaction that Laskaris’ full-body shudder. At least neither of them stopped in their tracks anymore. When they could see Kari it wasn’t so bad, the Cat usually looked their way or gave some visible indication he was about to speak to them, but when it was a call like this –

Well. They still weren’t used to it.

:The Outer Eighth charity temple complex’s storerooms are packed with volatiles. The Eldest recognizes flour, pistachios and finely milled sawdust, packed in barrels surrounding support pillars. He estimates that a spark in here would seriously damage the complex and destroy at least a few buildings outright. Etrius and Rodri are working with staffers to get the children out using a holiday market outing as an excuse in the hopes we don’t alert anyone involved in this plot that they’ve been uncovered.:

Fabron exchanged a glance with Laskaris, and they both hit the Hall doors running.

=pagebreak=

Anur barely noticed the group they appeared in front of, he had to catch Kir when his brother’s knees gave out, a horrified, “Oh God,” not reassuring at all.

“It is that bad,” Etrius said flatly, an unfamiliarly desperate expression on his face that was only underscored by his spat, “Fuck.”

“It’s – it’s a lot,” Rodri agreed, pallor stricken and clearly frightened, looking between the two of them as Kir steadied himself and took more of his own weight, a hand pressed to his temple. “Father Kir it’s – it’s pistachios, for sure. And other things like them but not the same.”

“Flour,” Kir said flatly, eyes closed, “Flour, and sawdust, if I’m not mistaken. Directly under our feet. This charity temple is one of the orphanages, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Etrius confirmed, Rodri mumbling prayers under his breath and the unfamiliar young woman standing with them staring at the floor with abject betrayal written on her features.

“You three need to get them out,” Kir said immediately, finally looking at him and explaining properly, “Anur, there are enough volatiles stored under us that this entire building will be obliterated at the very least, the whole complex sorely damaged and there are children here – “

“No, I agree,” Anur assured him, looking at the small group, “Rodri, you detected something odd, then?”

“I did,” Rodri reported, swallowing nervously, “I told Etrius I heard something strange, something maybe dangerous, and he took us to Sable, and she got us into the storerooms to try and figure out what was going on. I – got close, and recognized pistachios and with how many there were it was – I knew it was bad. I didn’t know it would be that bad.”

“You’ve done well,” Kir said, focusing on the young woman and saying, “You are employed here?”

“Yes, Your Holiness. Raised here too,” the dark-haired woman said, offering a brisk bow and holding out the heavy key she pulled from her belt, “And a keyholder. I can let you into those storerooms as well as anywhere else you need to go aside from the priestly quarters.”

“I would rather you go with these two to get the children out of here, as they know you,” Kir replied, Anur nodding agreement and catching the relief on Etrius’ face – she was a friend of his then, they looked of an age and had evidently both been raised here.

“And how are we going to do that without alerting anyone we found out?” Rodri asked, sounding worried, “Sparks are easy, and it only takes one to destroy everything.”

“I can suppress flames – not as well as I can start them, but I can do it. So long as only one or two spark clusters are used to set it off, I should be able to stop it in its tracks, or at the very least only lose one or two barrel clusters. If it is more – I can’t be certain. At the very least I can buy us time to evacuate,” Kir said firmly, that surety fading as he admitted, “I don’t know how we can manage that evacuation without being blatant, though.”

It was a trick, to be sure, but Anur had been raised on stories of such tricks, though those were usually filled with a lot more rampant violence and horrifying collateral damage than he would allow. This one though, he knew exactly how to manage.

“Announce that you’re taking all the children to the holiday market and buy them all candy or something,” Anur said, pulling his coin-purse out of his inner coat pocket and the narrow one folded under his belt and tearing out the fool-seams of his coat sleeves to drop coins into his hand, most of his audience watching like he was managing an insanely clever bit of sleight of hand.

The only one who wasn’t was doing exactly the same thing, saying, “Good plan. Call it a donation from your sponsors. We can set someone else on the problem of finding them a new place to stay while you’re out,” Kir said, Anur holding his pouch out for Kir to pour his coins into and then thrusting the whole thing at Etrius.

Etrius was staring at the bag in his hands with an utterly poleaxed expression, Anur abruptly worried because Sunhame was more expensive, and the only sweet he regularly bought was spice-cake, asking, “Will that be enough for all of them?”

“There’s only forty-seven,” Sable said faintly, staring at the coin-purse in Etrius’ hands and the other two looking equally stunned.

“I need you two to teach me how to budget,” Rodri said, sounding impressed.

“Rodri, it’s easy,” Anur scoffed, “We’re housed, clothed and fed as part of the Sunsguard or priesthood, our horses are likewise tended to, our medical expenses are also covered and when we travel we mostly eat travel rations or forage, and stay in traveler’s chapels. I buy spice-cake and Kir buys string, that’s literally it.”

“Sometimes we buy tea and prodka,” Kir corrected, sounding amused in spite of himself, so Anur would take it.

“Okay, sometimes we buy tea and prodka,” Anur allowed, shaking his head, “But sure, we’ll teach you how to budget. That will be enough for all of the children?”

“Yes,” all three chorused, Sable eyeing Etrius and saying, “If you don’t return at least half of that, all your barter skills have degraded to unforgivable levels.”

“Agreed,” Etrius said, purse vanishing into his own inner coat pocket. “Right then – we’ll get the children out.”

“Once you’re at least three buildings away, tell Kari – we’ll move on the priests in the complex then, as at least one of them has to be complicit in this, sawdust and pistachios and this volume of flour are useless for a charity temple,” Kir ordered, returning Rodri’s fierce hug while he spoke.

Anur took the key Sable offered him, promising, “I’ll return this to you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, voice shaking only a bit. Breathing deeply, she continued steadily, “The storeroom entrance is just down the hall to the left, the door is open. Vkandis protect and guide, Holiness, Enforcer.”

“Vkandis protect and guide,” they both echoed, following them into the corridor and turning the other direction, Kari staying tight to their sides. Hopefully Valerik could wait for them to run triage on this, wherever he was.

Kir had evidently been having some of the same thoughts, asking aloud as they headed down the stairs, mage-light preceding them, “You said you couldn’t find Valerik, Kari?”

:Wherever he is, he’s obscured to my senses. That likely means powerful magecraft with some focus to obscuration. It is not – if he were conscious, if he were aware, I would be able to reach his mind and receive an acknowledgement, and use that to get to him regardless. But he is unconscious right now, is not rousing at the calls I can make, and a detailed effort to break through and find him in spite of this blurring would take time we can ill afford at the moment. I truly hate to say it, but he’s on his own right now.:

“Hells,” Kir breathed, burying his face in his hands, Anur settling a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling the same self-recrimination and bitterness Kir was. “I cannot disagree, Kari, but how I want to.”

:I know,: Kari yowled mournfully, huddling against Kir’s side, :I know.:

Anur let the moment hold, offering a quick but no less sincere prayer that Valerik was all right, that Valerik would manage to get himself out of whatever mess he’d landed in, and while he was at it some help with this mess would be nice too, thank you Sunlord. By the faint murmurs from Kir, he was doing much the same.

“Kari, we need help, and the Firestarters will be the easiest to manage,” Anur said aloud, looking around the storeroom and wincing. There were crates and barrels stacked around support columns, which were probably the volatiles. If you were going to try and destroy as much of this complex as possible, might as well stack the odds in your favor. “And with Kir the only safeguard we have at the moment – you need to stay with him. Perhaps Hansa could come along? Both as an additional evacuation route and as someone to point to if we need a truth compulsion.”

“Kavrick works with volatiles,” Kir said abruptly, looking around with a far more critical gaze, “His expertise could be valuable, but I would prefer he offer it verbally or through someone else, rather than in person. See if he has any advice for mitigation, besides my own flame suppression, but request he stay away. For the others – Colbern, and – damn it, Valerik is missing. Right. Is Laskaris back in Sunhame?”

:He’s in the District,: Kari reported.

“Please don’t be a disaster we have to deal with,” Anur muttered, Kir humming agreement before continuing his orders.

“Him then. Henrik was Valerik’s student, does he have any experience with judicial?”

:Yes, I believe so. He also trained with Jaina on wards,: Kari supplied.

“Him too. That gives us three, four counting you, Anur, and Hansa. If Hansa could bring some other authorities – investigative experience would be helpful but quick reactions and the ability to make solid-shield would also be useful, I think? His discretion, but not Solaris,” Kir finished, shaking his head, “The other Firestarters are to stay clear.”

:Understood, Eldest,: Kari said firmly, looking aside and starting his message relay.

“What can we do right now to mitigate risk?” Anur asked, brow furrowing as he looked around, “The danger is pressure, right? Would opening every door in this place help?”

“One moment, Anur,” Kir said, voice tight and Anur settled a hand on his shoulder, frowning as the usual crackles and flares of Kir’s mind against his own became very – still. Very quiet, and not peacefully so.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he murmured, “This – it doesn’t feel sustainable.”

“Total suppression of flames and forced reduction of flammability,” Kir explained, glancing his way and grimacing, “It’s very counterintuitive, Anur. It feels like – like straining to reach further than you actually can, but without any ceasing or readjusting.”

:That sounds terrible,: Aelius said, :And I agree with Anur, not sustainable. How long can you keep this up?:

“Not too long,” Kir admitted, wincing, “Perhaps a mark? Even then, if multiple sparks go off at once – I don’t think I’d be able to respond quickly enough to all of them.”

“Then we’ll move fast,” Anur said firmly, because that was all they really could do, “And you’ll keep Kari with you. Hansa can stay with the rest of us. Actually – Kari, if any of the Firestarters have flame suppression techniques that could be layered on top of Kir’s, that’d be helpful or at least not harmful.”

:Henrik says he has some wards that might help, he’s grabbing the relevant ward anchors. Also, Kavrick says aside from suppression, ventilation and dispersal would be the most effective, allow you a chance to turn it to flash-fire. However, with this concentration he recommends focusing on evacuation first, as the shockwave will likely demolish everything. He works with volatiles very carefully, and has little experience in what to do when things go catastrophically wrong. He also says he’s more than happy to come and offer his own warding experience,: Kari reported.

“He has a student who has just undergone a traumatic experience and we’re looking to traumatize him further with the knowledge he has a witch-power that influences minds,” Kir retorted, glaring at Kari, “Kavrick. Stays. Away. The others?”

:Henrik is about done gathering supplies and has asked Lumira to alert an actual Justicar of the problem, Colbern is suggesting using animated corpses to transport the volatiles out of here once evacuation is complete, Seras is heading to the other orphanage temple to coordinate a new place for the children to stay after ensuring no volatiles are being stashed there, Jaina is staying in the holiday market to meet Etrius and the others and says if you die she reserves the right to pray for your resurrection and then murder you again if it works, Laskaris is dropping his bags off and otherwise ready to go and Tristan plans to attempt scrying for Valerik, though he has his doubts it will work and will follow Fabron to the western charity temple to help him check it for volatiles after a few attempts,: Kari continued, inclining his head at Kir’s order and not objecting at all.

“The animated corpses idea isn’t terrible,” Anur muttered, shuddering at the idea nonetheless, “Good division of labor, otherwise.”

“It depends on how clumsy they are,” Kir replied, “But it could work. And agreed, pass on thanks for divvying that labor up, Kari. On the corpses – it’s certainly risking fewer people than any of my other ideas, though surrounding buildings would need to be evacuated too, in case the walls come down.”

:We will put a pin in that idea then,: Kari said diplomatically, :Hansa says he will be bringing Grevenor and Karchanek, as the former is skilled at detecting and dismantling trap spells and Karchanek is a respected authority outside the Firestarting Order. He also volunteered.:

“Karchanek is not coming,” Kir said sternly, “Grevenor, fine, he has useful skills for this situation, but we are not going to lose three out of five of Solaris’ Council to this if it goes wrong. Karchanek stays away until this is dismantled, he can help the investigation from a safe distance if he likes.”

:I will pass that on to Hansa. I doubt he will object,: Kari agreed, :Our Firestarters are all assembled, we’re just waiting on – ah. Nothing at all. Etrius just got the group three buildings out. Let’s go open all the other doors and I’ll have Hansa bring the others outside of the last one, he needs to use my location as an anchor.:

“A very good point,” Kir murmured, looking around them and shuddering.

“Are you going to be able to walk and maintain the focus you need?” Anur asked, and took no little comfort in the fact Kir’s response was a mute roll of his eyes as he set off.

They started walking through the storeroom, picking their way through the aisles with possibly exaggerated care but tripping and causing the whole disaster they were trying to avert would be a damn stupid way to die. Kari was following behind them, so they might escape regardless, but that, if anything, would be even worse.

There were only four doors leading up into the complex, though. Nowhere near enough to be helpful. Anur examined the bricked over archway as they headed up the last set of stairs – one of many such archways he’d seen in their circuit of the storeroom.

“Odds there are secret passageways and the like that have been bricked up?” Anur asked, Kir huffing a laugh.

“Anur, Sunhame, as a settlement, is over two thousand years old, and the southern Outer sectors are the oldest of all. There are extensive underlevels in the city, and it’s considered the responsibility of the property owner to maintain their lower level to keep people out as they desire. The Sunsguard has passages they maintain here, but for the most part they’re left to rot. I would be more surprised if there weren’t. I don’t know that breaking down walls will be safe in this sort of environment, though.”

“I was more thinking opening holes in walls,” Anur offered, grimacing as he thought about the ways even that smaller scale operation could go wrong and opening the last door to the storeroom, “But fair enough. All right. What are the ways sparks could happen? Rodri said sparks were easy, was he speaking magically or just for the two of you?”

“Both,” Kir replied, looking thoughtful and wincing when Hansa’s flames appeared in the hallway in front of them, continuing as the new arrivals appeared, “Though for magic there usually needs to be something to focus on, particularly if the spell is done at a distance.”

“Or if it is set off by some outside circumstance or timed,” Grevenor inserted, no one commenting on Hansa’s pinned back ears or Colbern and Laskaris’ low voiced cursing, but Henrik had definitely noticed and was staring at the more senior Firestarters with no little trepidation. “The children are out?”

“Safely away, yes,” Anur confirmed, holding up the key Sable had lended him, “And we have a keyholder’s key, in case we need it. But first thing’s first – Laskaris, why are you a day late?”

“I’m – not late?” Laskaris said, looking bewildered, “The Conclave starts tonight?”

“Yes, yes but you were planning on arriving yesterday, you’re here today. What happened? Please no exorcists, please, please,” Anur was unashamed to admit that he was definitely whispering heartfelt prayers at the end of that.

The priests stared at him before Colbern shrugged and looked to Laskaris, “He has a point, actually. Is it anything urgent?”

“A bridge washed out,” Laskaris said dryly, raising an eyebrow at them, “I had to take a detour.”

“Oh,” Anur said, feeling abruptly ridiculous and sharing a relieved look with Kir, “That’s – so normal!”

“Anur stop talking!” Kir hissed, grabbing his collar and shaking him, “You just cursed us again!”

“I did not curse us to begin with this has definitely been in the works for longer than the past three days and not finding out about this before it happened would have definitely been worse, there is no curse!” Anur hissed back, and no one would ever know he was starting to have trouble convincing himself, “Henrik, you can set up flame suppression wards?”

Anur carefully ignored Aelius’ mental coughing and Kir’s abruptly smug mental presence, the gossipy traitors.

“Yes,” Henrik agreed, amused expression vanishing as he spoke, admitting, “I haven’t held them over a very large area before though.”

“Then let’s show you what we have to work with,” Kir said, nodding towards the stairs and letting go of Anur’s collar with an apologetic pat on his shoulder, “Grevenor, you are a trap spell expert?”

“Of sorts,” the other member of Solaris’ Council agreed, heading down the stairs and visibly wincing, “Hells, all of these are flour and such?”

“All the ones around support pillars, certainly,” Kir replied, moving to follow him but Anur grabbed his arm before he could go.

“You be careful, and stay near Kari,” Anur said sternly, calling after Grevenor, “If you find and remove a spell anchor, let us know right away! We three will deal with gathering the adults here, and coordinating with the Justicar if Lumira sends one here soon enough.”

“Shouldn’t take long, Fourth Court doesn’t waste time, as a rule,” Laskaris supplied, giving the stairwell a wary look, “I had best steer clear of that, if it’s as concentrated as you say – I nearly failed my Trial’s collateral damage requirement, and I can’t say I’ve worked on it very much since.”

“I sent a runner to Liljan saying we might have a hazardous removal job to conduct,” Colbern added, shrugging at their startled looks, “She’d never be a part of something like this, and obtaining corpses with enough structure to actually carry things and no one to raise a huge fuss over using them in such a way is very time consuming. As soon as you start raising human corpses, people start complaining.”

“That – makes sense,” Anur said hesitantly, Kir chuckling and patting his shoulder again before heading down the stairs after Grevenor and Henrik, Kari on his heels.

“No it doesn’t, they’re dead, it’s literally just rotting meat,” Colbern retorted, glowering at him and clearly gearing up for a rant when Laskaris cut him off.

“Let’s focus on finding the adults in this complex! Mages first, Colbern, any mages in the area?”

Colbern’s glower only darkened, but he obligingly looked around and said shortly, “One. This way.”

Laskaris fell into step beside Anur while they followed Hansa and Colbern, the priest lowering his voice and saying, “He can rant on that topic for marks. It gets very disturbing, especially because logically speaking, he’s completely right.”

“No, he definitely is,” Anur conceded, wincing, “My uncle told some really nightmare inducing stories about walkers though. It’s a kneejerk response at this point.”

:Kir you jerk you should have warned me about Colbern!:

:Enduring Colbern’s ‘it’s literally meat which is why we don’t burn people while hungry’ lecture is a rite of passage, Anur, sorry.:

:…You just made this so much worse,: Anur whined, not helped at all by Aelius cackling at them both.

“The Eldest told you Colbern’s version of a moral to the story?” Laskaris said, voice still tight with discomfort but he was at least acknowledging the existence of mindspeech, and didn’t sound disgusted. Definite progress. But also.

“That is not a moral,” Anur hissed.

“The lesson, then.”

=pagebreak=

“You really should have warned him about Colbern’s lecture,” Henrik said, shuddering.

:I don’t think I’ve heard this lecture, actually,: Kari commented, tilting his head curiously, :What did you summarize it as, Eldest?:

“You didn’t hear me?” Kir asked, raising an eyebrow at the Cat practically glued to his side. They were following Grevenor, Henrik walking next to them and placing his ward anchors – engraved disks of bronze, if he wasn’t mistaken – around the edge of the room. There was apparently a set distance between each of them, and Henrik figured if he was able to surround the room with the maximum distance between each disk, he would be able to manage the warding successfully. If not, it was better not to risk it. Magic was something of a natural volatile in itself, after all.

:Mindspeech conversations can be directed at one specific recipient. Unless you’re consciously broadcasting to include me, I can’t hear it,: Kari replied, shaking his head, :Well. Unless I wanted to be rude and eavesdrop, but I refuse to do that unless the situation calls for it.:

“Ah,” Kir said, wanting to ask more because it was curious that Kari had that limitation while Aelius didn’t seem to, though that probably had something to do with Anur’s bond to Aelius, but that sort of discussion was best left for later.

“Well, it’s usually summarized as Colbern’s ‘it’s literally meat which is why we don’t burn people while hungry’ lecture,” Kir explained, Kari giving his chuffing laugh while Grevenor made a horrified noise, rounding on them.

“That’s disgusting,” the man hissed.

“There’s a reason I said the Eldest should have warned his Enforcer,” Henrik replied sharply, eyes narrowing and Kir felt an eyebrow creep up his face. He didn’t know Henrik well at all, but this definitely read as targeted hostility specific to Grevenor, which was… rather surprising. He wouldn’t have thought they would have had any chance to interact before this.

“I had to sit through the entire rant and take detailed notes, he can suffer through a brief summary,” Kir scoffed, wincing as he thought that through and asked, “Have the current students gotten that lecture yet?”

“Etrius has,” Henrik replied, placing his next anchor while Grevenor shuddered and continued on their circuit of the room, adding, “Not sure about Maltin and Rodri but probably not.”

“Probably not,” Kir agreed, remembering Rodri’s reactions yesterday. He probably wouldn’t have been so surprised by Maltin’s terror of fire if Colbern had given them that lecture. It was very detailed. “I’ll – have to talk to Colbern about that.”

“It can be skipped,” Henrik promised him, Kir noting but not commenting on the glare he was still sending Grevenor’s back, “It can definitely be skipped.”

He was going to have to follow up with Henrik on this apparent issue with Grevenor, wasn’t he?

:Anur, add talking to Henrik about Grevenor to the list of tasks.:

:…Aelius?:

:Consider it added, focus on your current dangers please.:

Kir had just opened his mouth to ask Grevenor what he was looking for and if there was any way he could help beyond his flammability reduction and fire suppression when Kari’s fur practically stood on end, the Cat whirling on them with a panicked mental cry, :Valerik!:

“Get Anur and go,” Kir barked, gritting his teeth as he bore down on the traces of fire and warmth that even Kari’s most subtle of jumps left behind.

“Was that truly necessary?” Grevenor asked, voice painfully dubious.

Kir did not like that tone. Nor did he like Henrik’s wordless snarl in response.

“…I can’t read this scribbled out bit. Something about a lecture that’s a rite of passage for Firestarters to listen to?”

“Well that’s… ominous.”

“New series of bets?”

“After we know what happened! Come on, Auntie Ki, keep reading!”

Chapter Text

Valerik would swear to the Sunlord and Ari and all the Blessed Souls that he hadn’t drunk that much last night, he hadn’t even gotten past buzzed last night, there was no reason for his head to hurt this badly, damn everything to the coldest of hells. He had played it so safe! He had gone to Alberich’s bar and sat where he could watch the man pour, snickered with the rest of the regulars over the idiots who thought they were clever when they commented on Alberich’s name and suffered mis-made and watered down drinks that everyone else in the bar would swear were properly made and delicious because you couldn’t pay for this sort of entertainment, and headed back towards the District only a mark or so after midnight! He had played it safe!

Groaning, he gagged on air and squawked when he suddenly moved and his head throbbed with it – it took until his feet hit the floor and he was lowered to a seat for him to realized he’d been slung over someone’s shoulder, said someone holding a city-Guard issue oil-wick lantern and definitely not in the uniform to justify owning such a thing.

“You aware, Val?” the stranger asked, Valerik squinting at him and not recognizing the man at all even with a few moments of thought, but that wasn’t too surprising. He wasn’t exactly the most subtle of men, there were likely a lot of people that recognized him who he couldn’t pick out of a line up.

“Aware,” he managed around the hopefully metaphorical dead rat in his mouth, spitting to one side and grimacing because that didn’t help at all, so it really was a metaphorical rat, “Why the hell are we underground?”

He did not like the pause that followed that question, and he could barely think past the pounding in his head.

“We’re underground because that’s where you were put,” the man finally said, “It’s part of a plot to frame you, though I’ll be honest I have no idea what for or why you. No one will listen to me, so I’m hoping to use the fact I found you to get a door opened instead of slammed in my face.”

Valerik could feel all the questions that he couldn’t actually think of on the tip of his tongue. This was terrible, he couldn’t think. He hated concussions.

“Do I have a head wound?” he asked, because at least that one he could figure out the words for.

“Checked for basics, didn’t seem injured, just unconscious and severely chilled. Didn’t wake up to basic taps and what-not, or when I retied you so you wouldn’t loose circulation too badly,” the man said, pulling out a small knife and waving at Valerik’s bound wrists and ankles, “May I?”

“Thanks,” Valerik managed, wincing at a particularly sharp throb and trying not to think too hard about he fact he hadn’t even noticed he was tied up. The hobbles were cut and pocketed, and Valerik waited for the man to put his knife away before holding out an arm and saying, “This headache is terrible. All right, help me up, I can walk.”

The dubious look he received at that declaration was probably deserved, standing up was hard.

“Your definition of walk could use some work,” the man said three steps later, having caught Valerik when he nearly swerved into a wall. Huffing a laugh, Valerik hooked his arm around the stranger’s shoulders, and was pretty sure that between that and the arm wrapping around his waist, this man was taking most of his weight. Probably would have moved faster if he’d stayed unconscious, to be honest.

“If there’s a plot to frame me and you don’t know what for or why, what aren’t people listening about?” Valerik asked, feeling a sharp spike of triumph because he’d managed to find words for the right question! Or at least find words for a question. Almost as good.

“So very much,” the man said, voice sour, but he shook it off and continued, “Right. You were grabbed last night, it’s well after dawn services and the like let out. What are the odds your family has already raised an alert that you’re missing?”

Valerik only caught half of that, hearing muffled and he felt himself droop, jolting upright when the man swore, and he shook his head before regretting that choice intensely and gasping, “Sorry. Sorry. Question again?”

“Your family,” the man repeated slowly – he really needed to ask about his name, if he remembered that long enough he’d make it his next question, “Odds they’ve raised an alert you’re missing?”

“No family,” he replied, feeling a little saddened by it because one of his drinks the night before had been a silent toast to the birth family he’d never really given a second thought to after his teen years. With the Eldest’s reunion fresh in his mind, he had finally worked up the nerve to look into it this winter. They had died in the Tedrel Wars fiasco.

Mourning for later or never, questions for now, “What’s your name?”

“Garth Nolans – and what do you mean no family, I thought you had a sister, Jana?”

“…Right. Right my sister Jana. Younger and more sensible,” Valerik winced, he was definitely off his game if he didn’t realize that question had been targeted at Val, not Valerik. Val had a family. Val had a sister. “Yes. I have a sister. Time is it?”

“Midmorning.”

“Oh no,” Val whispered, finally realizing one of the dangers his mind was struggling to scream at him about, “Oh no she’s going to kill me.”

“I think she’ll cut you some slack,” Garth said, sounding amused despite himself, “Come on, Val, we need to keep moving.”

“Is someone chasing us?”

“Hopefully not yet, I’d like to get further out before pursuit starts.”

“Where are we going?” Valerik asked, squinting as if that would help him see further in the light of one tiny oil lamp, which it definitely did not. At least there wasn’t too much rubble in this passage, even if it didn’t have any of the markings of an officially maintained one.

“Guard station, hopefully. We’ll see if they let me in,” Garth said, huffing tiredly, “We’ll see if anyone useful is guarding the underlevels. Here, lean against this wall.”

“Right, right,” Val said, leaning against the wall heavily while the man slipped through a gap in the stonework and shivering. The whole wall wasn’t stone, but a lot of it was and that stone was cold. The impatient wave of a hand got him moving again, carefully following through the gap – and barely managing not to bowl them both over when his knee gave out on the other side.

“Gah. Sorry,” he mumbled, straightening slowly.

“That gets us halfway there,” Garth promised, resuming their shuffling walk down yet another unmarked underground passage.

Huh. Unmarked, by the official markings for the underlevels. Not surprising, not very many underlevel passages and the like were properly marked and mapped, it was a bit of a warren aside from the few zones maintained by the Sunsguard. But these paths seemed familiar to him, and if he wasn’t just seeing things, that narrowed it down quite a bit. He didn’t have cause to properly wander around – or under – Sunhame very much. Even with the reforms he couldn’t get away too often, and why waste time exploring when he could be drinking or brawling?

His headache throbbed and Valerik felt his knees give out, grunting when Garth practically toppled over on top of him and gagging on air again, hearing Garth saying something but he couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear anything Ari bless this was miserable.

“Something’s not right,” he insisted, “Not right I didn’t drink a lot no head wound but I can’t think what did they do to me?”

“Val, I – I don’t know for certain, but I have ideas. We need to keep moving, though, Val, please.”

“Okay, okay,” Valerik managed, trying to stand and ending up relying almost entirely on Garth again. He should have just asked the man to carry him again, but then he’d pass out, he could already tell that much, and he couldn’t afford to lose consciousness again. As it was, he could feel some thought that tasted important, that felt significant, slip through his fingers. This wasn't just a concussion, this wasn’t just cold stealing away his ability to think. He had to focus. He had to think, and he knew it was a bad idea, he remembered all the warnings he’d ever gotten with concussions and head wounds in general but he had to figure this out, something was wrong and he couldn’t even remember what.

It took a glimpse of the beaded spell-key bracelet on Garth’s wrist for him to realize what his mind had been trying to tell him.

“Bracelet,” he said suddenly, Garth swearing when Valerik collapsed entirely this time, the other man barely managing to catch his shoulders so he didn’t end up giving himself a head wound but Valerik ignored him, trying to grab the bracelet on his own wrist and finally giving up on elegance and slamming the offending limb against Garth’s chest, “This isn’t mine. Get it off.”

“Val – Val they put it on you,” Garth said, sounding grief-stricken and furious and not making any move to take the bracelet off, “It’s a favorite of his. To put cursed bracelets on and only take them off if you comply. I can’t, Val. It’d kill you.”

Val stared at him, because that wasn’t quite what he meant. He had meant it wasn’t his, so someone had taken his and switched it out, his was missing but this was – this was –

He started laughing, knowing it was a bitter thing, but he couldn’t help it. He’d removed the traps on his wear-always bracelet because someone had tried to steal it off him in his first years making these excursions and his traps had nearly killed the stupid kid. He hadn’t wanted someone to die because they thought his cheap-looking stone bracelet was nice, so he’d gotten rid of those traps.

And here he was, with his own spellworked bracelet gone and a fake one left behind – a fake one with some strong spellwork on it in its own right, that a man desperate to have people listen to his testimony and being consistently ignored recognized immediately as cursed, as placed there by a specific person.

Some Oathbreaking fucker was going to burn for this.

His laughter grew ragged, stopped entirely, and his breathing sounded far too loud in his ears. Garth was watching him worriedly, was opening his mouth to say something – undoubtedly an insistence they keep moving, they try and get going again, because this man clearly had a goal and a plan and Val was getting dragged along for the ride – but Valerik couldn’t hear the words he was saying, couldn’t hear anything over his own heartbeat for a few terrible moments, before the world suddely roared and his vision went white and it hurt so badly Sunlord please –

He must have passed out. There was a gap, somewhere. There had been nothing but pain, and then he was sitting against a wall with Garth sitting beside him, slumped against the other man’s side.

“You back with me, Val?”

“Back,” he groaned, dry-heaving again, “Garth, this isn’t after effects, something’s still happening, something’s wrong.”

“I know,” the man said grimly, “Val. I – I don’t know what this bracelet is doing to you. What it will do to you, if I take it off. I can take it off and throw it down the corridor and if there’s any sort of dramatic burning death curse we might dodge that, but anything else – you could die, Val.”

“I think it’s killing me anyway,” Valerik gasped, shivering and not able to tell if it was chills or something else or even just in his imagination and there was something he could do, there was someone he should be trying to reach but he couldn’t think –

“Get it off,” he wheezed, shoving the limb into Garth’s chest again, “Get it off. Please.”

“All right, all right,” Garth said, inhale sounding shaky and hand definitely shaking a bit, but he hooked his fingers under the bracelet on Val’s wrist and said again, “I’m going to pull the bracelet off and throw it back down the way we came, all right?”

“Fine,” Valerik managed, feeling a wetness on his face and a familiar salty-copper on his lips – fantastic. His nose was bleeding. He was definitely fighting whatever enchantment was on the bracelet then, and probably half-killing himself doing it, as he’d feared. Hopefully with it gone the backlash from the effort didn’t destroy his brain.

He was still forgetting something, he still couldn’t quite manage to think –

The bracelet got flung down the passage, and for one gloriously pain-free moment he remembered.

“Kari!”

=pagebreak=

Garth didn’t even have a chance to ask about the name Val shouted, the man immediately started seizing and slammed his head into Garth’s jaw before Garth could get him away from the wall.

“One, two, three,” Garth counted, grunting when Val’s next spasm drove his shoulder into Garth’s stomach before carrying on, “Five, six, sev – what the - !”

Flames appeared nearly on top of them and it was all Garth could do to not scramble away but Val was seizing he couldn’t just leave him –

The flames vanished and left a legend in their place.

“Kari!” the man the legend had brought along actually snarled that legend’s name, but whatever he was going to add on was silenced when he caught sight of the pair of them and his focus switched entirely to Val.

“Oh hells, Valerik,” the man breathed, dropping to his knees at Val’s side before looking at Garth in the light – better than his lamp alone had managed, the Firecat was… was glowing? They could do that?

They actually existed?

“How long?” the demand brought Garth back to himself, shaking his head he focused on the stranger, cursing himself when he realized the man was taking his coat off because he should have thought of that, moving his hand from under Val’s head so the coat could go there instead while he replied.

“I was at seven count when you showed up – probably fifteen, now,” Garth said, restarting his count from there.

“Kari will keep count, tell me what happened,” the man said, indicating the Firecat as Garth had guessed.

“There was a spelled bracelet – he was unconscious, I carried him out and he woke up after a bit of that. Seemed to have a bad headache that changed pain levels every so often, couldn’t walk right, thought he had a head-wound but he didn’t. Slurred speech, couldn’t think clearly, managed to figure out what he was trying to get to though, he realized the bracelet was probably responsible for the headache. I took it off him and threw it away from us in case it had some other spellwork, it’s down that way, and Val shouted for Kari before seizing,” Garth reported, knowing that when this was over he was going to have a quiet panic because what was happening but he needed to get through this.

Val – Val – knew a Firecat.

“Replaced his bracelet. Oh I don’t like where that might be leading,” the man muttered, glancing up from Val and saying, “Name’s Anur Bellamy, by the way.”

“Garth Nolans,” he replied, filing that name away to hopefully follow up on later. If he survived.

If he wasn’t executed.

“We’re halfway to the Outer Eighth Sector Station – I was planning on bringing him there, there’s an underlevel entrance and hopefully having found Val would get me in the doors,” Garth said, hesitating before cursing himself because completely justified mistrust of the priesthood was one thing, but this man had been brought by a Firecat, this was his best chance.

He had promised Maude he would take every chance he could.

“Your Holiness, this is part of something bigger. I don’t quite know all the pieces, but I swear to you the black-robe priest Bertrand at the Outer Eighth charity temple is sponsoring it, I don’t have proof with me I don’t have much solid proof at all beyond the spelled bracelet I pulled off Val but I will tell you everything I know of him and his plots going back years please just listen to me – ”

“Nolans – Garth Nolans, breathe,” Bellamy said, hands grabbing his shoulders and Garth stopped babbling, inhaling desperately and trying to breathe normally, “Nolans, I am listening. I will listen, I promise you, and your word can be enough. Firecats can cast a working called Tell Me True, it’s a truth compulsion, your word under that will be more than enough to get a proper investigation started, get the man you name detained and also questioned under a truth compulsion. I promise you, I will listen. Are you aware of anyone besides Val who is in immediate danger of their life due to Bertrand’s plotting?”

“My sister Maude,” Garth blurted, hardly daring to believe that this had actually worked, that Bellamy was actually being honest with him, but if he was – if there was any chance at all –

His sister. Maude might be saved.

“He put a cursed bracelet on her. Not like Val’s, she wasn’t suffering while wearing it I don’t think but she – he said that if she took it off, if anyone took it off besides him, she wouldn’t have hands to heal anymore, he burned her hands first and healed them but put the bracelet on while he did – he’s done it before. I’ve seen those bracelets kill people.”

“All right, where would she be right now? We might be able to get a mage to her, someone who can try and dismantle the bracelet or at least weaken it,” Bellamy said, Garth feeling some of his shakiness fade because the questions were so very practical. The options were so very clear.

They might actually make it. This might actually work!

“She’s running her holiday market stall right now – ”

:In the Seventh-Eighth market? We can check that easily, one of ours is in that market right now,: Garth yelped at the strange voice in his mind, the Firecat twitching and drawing his gaze, blue eyes meeting his and the voice returning, saying, :I am Kari, as you undoubtedly guessed. We’re at seventy-six.:  

When the count hit eighty-four, Val went limp, breathing harshly and not responding otherwise, though Bellamy started talking to him in a low tone about some mutual acquaintance of theirs they were apparently teasing via mysterious pistachio deliveries. Garth knew he should speak up, should let Val know he was present too while he regained awareness, but he was finding it hard to breathe through his anxiety because this was the closest he had gotten to actually having help in years, to actually having a chance of Maude surviving this, and it was so very different. So very much.

“I thought Etrius was the other one hiding pistachio packets,” Val rasped, Bellamy giving a relieved sigh but responding to the statement regardless.

“Well, he might be hiding some too, but Kir and I have definitely planted our own share,” he said, resting a hand on Val’s shoulder and saying, “You feeling all right? You just had a seizing fit, lasted longer than a minute.”

“My head still hurts,” Val grumbled, “Not as badly, but not great. And I think my nose is still bleeding. Hells, that was some serious spellwork that I was throwing off, actually seizing for a whole minute?”

“Minute and a half, more like,” Garth corrected, Val’s head carefully shifting so he could see him and Garth did him the courtesy of not looking away. He was definitely aware again – and more aware than he had been, that gaze was far more intent than Val had managed before this.

Which meant the lack of title for Bellamy was intentional – or rather, was not unusual. Bellamy had called Val by the name Valerik, which was a normal enough name but he’d never heard any whispers of Val not being the man’s full name. A Firecat was evidently familiar enough with him for Val to be able to call on him for help.

Damn it. His ‘frontman-slash-enforcer for the family smuggling business’ bet was definitely wrong.

“I’m lucky that backlash didn’t kill me,” Val said, Bellamy inhaling sharply and going pale, Val apparently understanding the response and grimacing, muttering, “Backlash is bad, Bellamy. Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise, that ward has to come down.”

“Right, right,” Bellamy said, voice shaky for some reason, Val trying to sit up and Garth quickly joined Bellamy in helping him with the effort. Val grumbled under his breath but didn’t actually object, which was not a good sign. Not after all his insistences that he could walk, that he could manage.

Val swayed a bit, grimacing before apparently resigning himself to needing help and sagging against Bellamy’s shoulder, mumbling apologies.

The man just rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm more firmly around Val’s shoulders, saying, “Valerik, it’s fine. Have you got any idea how worried we were when Kari said he couldn’t find you?”

“Couldn’t find me?” Val repeated, huffing a laugh when the Firecat coiled around his other side and rubbed his head against Val’s chest, saying, “Damn strong spellwork then, to hide me from you.”

The Firecat’s ears flattened and his voice echoed in Garth’s mind again, feeling so very strange and more than a little panic-inducing, saying, :Not particularly strong – not weak, mind, but overwhelming power wouldn’t have hid you so well. It was just very specific. As soon as you were able to call for me, I could break through it and find you, but when you weren’t responding… I couldn’t do more than sense a general direction.:

“Huh,” Bellamy said, sounding thoughtful, “You were calling for Valerik rather consistently, even after the first attempts didn’t work, weren’t you?”

:Yes,: Honored Kari said, head tilting to one side, :The last was only a few moments before Valerik managed to call for me.:

“I’d be curious to see the results of a scan on that bracelet,” Bellamy said, eyes narrowing, “Because it sounds to me like some spellwork on there blocked mindspeech.”

“Didn’t think magic could do that,” Valerik said, coughing wetly, “Ugh. Am I still bleeding?”

“If it’s a question, the answer is probably yes,” Bellamy said dryly, tone not hiding his worried expression as he carefully tilted Val’s face to get a better look, Garth wincing when that shift revealed that Val was definitely still bleeding, and his coat was in really terrible shape now. Garth pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to Val, the hand that took it shaking more than a little.

“Hells we need to get you out of here,” Bellamy murmured, brow creased with worry and gaze flicking towards the ceiling before focusing on Garth again, “How much further to the sector station?”

“Quarter mel or so,” Garth said, hesitating before admitting, “The only reason I was going there was to get someone to listen to me, and I knew if I showed up with Val they’d be more likely to at least hear why I had him in tow, maybe get an investigation opened up on his abduction alone, if nothing else.”

“It’d be useful to go there, regardless. We were going to need extra manpower for our own disaster,” Bellamy grimaced, “But quarter mel with Val in this condition will take far too long. Kari, is he safe to transport like this? Multiple times?”

“I might throw up on you,” Valerik said wearily.

Garth couldn’t help but scoff, saying, “As many times as you dry-heaved? You don’t have anything to throw up.”

“Regardless, I’d take the risk,” Bellamy said, sounding even more concerned, “Kari?”

:Once, certainly. The second transfer would depend on how much I’ve done in between – my transits get rougher as I grow more tired,: Kari explained, which was a perfectly reasonable limitation and so very strange to hear an avatar of the Sunlord admit to.

“Right. Valerik, your choice. Outer Eighth, or the Hall?”

“Outer Eighth,” Valerik decided, that far too stubborn for his own good streak that Garth had expected coming out, “They know me there, having me around will help you two get in the door regardless. What’s your disaster?”

“The trap I suspect you’re being framed for,” Bellamy said grimly, “Nolans, my coat sleeve has a silk scarf tucked into it, can you use it to get that bracelet you threw aside? Use the silk to wrap it, don’t touch it with your bare skin, silk is some sort of magical insulator.”

“That one of the bishra treated scarves?” Val asked, watching as Garth messed with the coat in question and wincing when he caught the wet patches on it, “Hells, I bled and drooled all over your coat, I’m sorry.”

“Valerik,” Bellamy said flatly, “You could have died. I think I can live with having to clean my coat, Ari’s sake! Stop apologizing!”

“Kari,” he continued, gaze turning to the Firecat watching him attentively and Garth could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the unquestioning authority in the man’s voice, authority he was directing at a Firecat, “Get ahold of Marghi, tell him we’ve found Val and it’s complicated, give a general summary and ask what information he needs or process we need to follow to get an investigation opened. While you’re at it, mention the need for extra bodies for a dangerous hazards removal at the charity temple, see what sort of paperwork or authorization he needs to make that happen.”

The Cat nodded firmly before gazing off into the middle distance to do Bellamy’s bidding, which was insane.

He found the bracelet that was definitely a part of it all and picked it up, careful to follow Bellamy’s instructions on proper handling but still able to take a good long look at the blasted thing. It was typical of Bertrand’s more subtle works, designed to raise no eyebrows when they suddenly appeared on the wrists of people of all sorts, but apparently Val owned a bracelet of his own that was nearly identical and had been replaced with this one.

It could be simply because someone wearing two of the same sort of bracelet on one wrist was a little odd outside of women’s bangles, but Garth suspected it was something more. He suspected he should be adding a plural to his next ‘Holiness’.

“Have the bracelet, Your Holiness,” Garth said, holding the wrapped bracelet up for Bellamy to see and a little surprised when both men winced, though Val spoke first.

“I realize we’ll likely have to tell some people about my status, but I’d rather be Val unless absolutely necessary,” he said.

“I’m not actually a priest, sorry I didn’t correct you sooner,” Bellamy added, looking a little sheepish. “If we want to get very technical, somewhere on the rank flow-chart I’m equivalent to an acolyte with an exceptional level of authority? But my actual title is Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“Shouldn’t you have gotten a promotion with the Eldest?” Val mumbled.

“To what, Senior Lieutenant-Enforcer?” Bellamy scoffed, “Whatever promotion I got is entirely on the priestly side of things, not the Sunsguard side of things, and that title is far too long besides. I’m just fine with what I’ve got.”

Garth found himself laughing, leaning against the wall and ignoring the worried looks the other two were sending his way for the moment, because while this was perhaps a little due to hysteria, it was all just so very ironic. Bertrand had always called them his enforcers, and it had taken Garth years to figure out the man’s glee over the title hadn’t just been from watching the few clinging to their consciences wince or cringe every time he said it, but had been due also to the fact that Enforcer was an actual rank. A rank Bertrand had no right at all to hand out.

“Bertrand called us his enforcers, he did that for years,” Garth finally managed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and biting back the now more than slightly hysterical giggle threatening to escape, “Just – funny to think that an actual Enforcer might be the key to me never having to be called that again. That someone called an enforcer could help.”

“It’s not exactly a title that inspires confidence in and of itself,” Bellamy agreed quietly.

“No, no it’s not,” Garth said, hesitating before crouching at Val’s side, “Means you’re a Firestarter, then.”

Val was staring at him like he was an executioner, and didn’t say a damn word for a long moment. If Val’s eyes weren’t clear, if his expression wasn’t alert, Garth would easily believe he’d slipped back into a dazed state like he’d spent quite a bit of their walk. But he was just quiet. Finally, Val admitted to what they all already knew, saying, “Name’s Valerik. Second Order Firestarter.”

“Huh,” Garth said, hearing it aloud somehow still a surprise, before he remembered something and glanced at the Lieutenant-Enforcer, saying, “You said you found the plot Val is being framed for – it’s something people would think a Firestarter capable of?”

“Enough volatiles to destroy a good portion of the southern charity temple,” Bellamy said, smiling bitterly, “Fire and dead children, of course they’d think it was a Firestarter.”

Valerik’s pained noise drew their attention and Bellamy winced at the other man’s stricken expression, curling a hand around the back of Val’s neck and murmuring, “Apologies, Valerik, that was unkind of me.”

“No, no it’s – it’s true,” Valerik said, expression going tight and eyes squeezing shut, head bowed, “It’s exactly what would happen. People would believe it of me. Of any of us. It would have worked.”

“It would not have,” Bellamy retorted sharply, eyes narrowing, “Valerik it would not have. Neither Kir nor I would ever believe that of you, and we would raise hell to get a proper, truth-compulsioned investigation run. Without Nolans here we might not have pinned down Bertrand as the conspirator, we might not have been able to find the actual perpetrator, but we would have damn well proven your innocence, understand? Kir’s already scolded Grevenor for jumping to conclusions, he’s said the same damn thing to Henrik when Henrik started begging on your behalf. We would not believe that of you.”

“Unless it was handled carefully, though, a lot of people on the outside might not see it as proving innocence,” Garth pointed out reluctantly, “They’d see it as Firestarters protecting their own from prosecution, regardless of the investigation’s conclusions. They’d think the investigation had a foregone conclusion the moment the Firestarters started pushing for it, and not because they would be trusting the Order’s judgment of one of their own. Hells, even now it might go that way, depending on how this investigation goes.”

There was a very long silence in the wake of that comment, three sets of eyes turning to him in the course of it, and Garth swallowed nervously but didn’t say anything else. It was all true, after all. Internal investigations were damn hard to run properly in the first place – to have the results accepted as accurate, as true? There was a reason he and Maude had been working on gathering evidence and procedural strategies for years. He’d wanted Bertrand and Darius taken down, and taken down properly.

“What then, would you recommend?” the actual Enforcer asked, focus sharpening and it wasn’t until it did that he realized Bellamy hadn’t actually been looking at him for those long seconds, had been staring into the middle distance much as Honored Kari had been for his message relays. “Is there any process we could follow, or path we could take, to avoid that impression?”

=pagebreak=

:Seizure’s stopped, eighty-four seconds,: Anur reported, mental voice tight and Kir let out a quiet sigh of not-yet-relief. He had listened to Anur’s relay of Garth Nolans’ information, had confirmed with Kari that he’d relayed Maude Nolans’ situation to Jaina, but he was having a very hard time focusing on flame suppression when he’d gotten a flash of what Anur had seen, because Valerik –

It hadn’t looked good. He wanted to burn something.

“I think I’ve found something,” Grevenor called quietly, at least having the courtesy to not be too disruptive while Henrik was attempting to set up his wards – the area of concern thankfully deemed just within his capabilities.

Kir walked over to the man, crouched by a pyramid of barrels near a corner of the room, keeping his own voice just as low and half an eye on Henrik’s meditation, saying, “Is it removable?”

“Oh it’s just tucked out of sight, not anchored to anything – someone slid it into the gap between the rim and the actual lid. Do you have a knife I could borrow?”

Kir didn’t bother responding verbally and just handed over his knife, letting Grevenor carefully pry the anchor in question out and wishing he could be more surprised to find that it was a bracelet of stonework foci he recognized as Valerik’s.

Accepting his knife back from Grevenor, he waited for the man to say something – to do something besides stare at the bracelet in distaste – before growing impatient and saying shortly, “Well? Any spellcraft on it besides what was originally placed?”

“I would hardly be an expert on what is here to begin with,” Grevenor retorted, before shaking his head, “Protection, some sort of detection set, sparks. And most certainly Holiness Valerik’s.”

Before he could snap at the man for the verging on pitying expression on his face – because Kir was not being obtuse and stubborn about admitting one of his Firestarters had gone astray because none of his Firestarters had gone astray – he felt a flare of magic from Henrik and his own strain ease as the ward settled. Not much, Henrik’s flame suppression ward was definitely not the most efficient or effective, but it helped. It easily doubled how long he would be able to maintain this.

“I don’t know how much that helped,” Henrik said aloud, shifting from his meditative stance and looking Kir’s way, “Did it help at all?”

“It did,” Kir assured him, offering him a brief smile and admitting, “I can’t say your ward alone would be much use, but it offers me additional support. Can you come over here and take a look at this bracelet? Valerik was your mentor, wasn’t he?”

Henrik went deathly pale at that, and moved a fair bit more quickly than Kir was comfortable with in a room this packed with volatiles, but before he could word a scolding Henrik was already at their side, staring at the bracelet Grevenor had dragged out and admitting, “That’s – that’s Valerik’s most basic set of foci. It’s the bracelet he wears when he goes out as Val.”

“And is there any spellwork on it that isn’t his? Or is more recent?” Kir prompted, ignoring Grevenor’s scoff but for a warning glance because the man was not helping.

“No, it’s – it’s all his. But he wouldn’t do this Eldest, he wouldn’t please you have to believe me - !”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy!” Grevenor barked before Kir could say anything, looking near disgusted as he held up Valerik’s foci with no respect at all, “The evidence is plain to see and your own sentiment has no place in an investigation, much less one of this severity – “

“Holiness Grevenor you will hold your tongue,” Kir said, imbuing his voice with every ounce of the implacable authority he had cowed so very many people with over the years. It didn’t have as dramatic an affect on Grevenor as it had on others, but that was only sensible, the man was also on Solaris’ Council after all. At least it succeeded in cutting him off before he said something truly regrettable.

Before Kir’s hanging-on-by-fingernails control slipped.

“You will hold your tongue, Grevenor,” he repeated, holding his hand out, “And you will give me my Firestarter’s foci. Then, you will look for additional spark anchors and while you are at it you will think very carefully on how utterly, willfully stupid it would be for someone to leave personally crafted and constantly carried magical foci behind when spark anchors are so very easy to make out of anything.”

Grevenor’s expression was a frozen, bland mask, and he dropped the foci bracelet into Kir’s palm near carelessly before turning on his heel to continue searching for potential spark anchors and trap spells. Hopefully, the man’s pride wouldn’t keep him from doing his job. Kir would like to think that one of Solaris’ chosen Council members would have more professionalism than that, and for the moment he would let himself assume it was so. He had to focus on Henrik.

“Henrik, are you all right?” he asked quietly, pressing the foci into Henrik’s hands and not liking the faint tremor he felt. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply and lowered his voice to a murmur, asking Anur for fresh information on Valerik and passing it along, “Henrik, Valerik is alive. Anur is with him. I cannot say he is completely well, he seems to have gotten caught in spell backlash from breaking an enchantment on him, but he is alive and he is coherent.”

“He is?” Henrik asked, voice almost breaking on the question and Kir nodded solemnly.

“Thank the Sunlord,” Henrik breathed, Kir more than willing to give him a few moments to regain his composure but Henrik quickly squared his shoulders, looking him in the eye with a worrying desperation as he insisted again, “Valerik would never, Eldest, he wouldn’t it’s not – “

“Henrik,” Kir cut him off, resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “Henrik, I agree with you.”

Eyeing the way he nodded, the way Henrik closed his eyes and very consciously leveled his breathing, the way his empty hand clenched and unclenched, Kir could guess where some of this was coming from.

“Henrik. You don’t need to protect Valerik from me,” Kir said quietly, regretting, for a moment, the fact that he had spent so little time in Sunhame. That he was still such a relative unknown to so very many of his Firestarters, that this would be in doubt.

He would have gone mad.

All paths had their costs.

“I realize you have no reason to believe me,” Kir admitted, “But you don’t. I hope one day you will be able to believe that.”

“Now,” he continued briskly, eyeing Valerik’s foci bracelet, “Which of these is the spark spell?”

“There are three,” Henrik replied, pointing to each of them. Kir couldn’t recognize what they were carved out of, but it was some sort of black stone – all of it was stonework, which matched what he recalled of Valerik’s part of the foci summary nearly a year ago, and this one was definitely made to look deliberately casual and not particularly valuable. That made sense, if this was the one he always wore even when out and about as Val. Spark spells, probably a few flammability detection ones, possibly some spellwork that had nothing to do with fire but was useful nonetheless.

Perhaps he would be willing to add a tracking component at some point? Though with this situation it likely wouldn’t have worked, even if it hadn’t been removed from his wrist. Given Kari’s difficulties anything simple would have been blocked, but it might be useful going forward. It was worth asking, but perhaps later. There clearly wasn’t enough trust between them now for Valerik to agree out of anything besides obligation, and that wasn’t an obligation Kir was comfortable demanding.

“Found another anchor,” Grevenor called from the other side of the storeroom, nothing in his tone giving any indication of what he felt about finding a less obvious anchor, but at least he had found one. Kir could take this as confirmation he was actually conducting the search properly, regardless of his opinions on Valerik’s guilt. “Unfortunately it’s in the middle of this pile, I don’t think we could reach it without unstacking everything.”

“Hmm,” Kir stalled, unsurprised when Henrik followed him over to Grevenor’s find, “Very well. When we start the literal dismantling we’ll have to prioritize this one. Does that complete the check?”

“Almost,” Grevenor replied, moving on to finish the room’s inspection.

:Kari, any word from Jaina on this Maude Nolans’ bracelet?: he asked.

:She has found her, it’s a disgusting and subtle piece of work but she should be able to at least keep it from activating,: Kari reported back, voice tense, :I have just finished updating Captain Marghi of the basics of our situation, he says he can send some assistance our way on our word, but en force aid needs Justicar authorization, which Lumira says is on its way from Fourth Court, with the Justicar himself en route to the charity temple already, so I told him to wait for that authorization instead of responding to us immediately.:

Kir nudged Anur’s mental presence next, his brother sending back reassurance with a dash of amusement, elaborating, :Nolans thought I was a priest, called me Your Holiness, nothing too hilarious. What was that earlier, you felt furious?:

:Grevenor is… very confident that Valerik is involved in building this trap, and Henrik is furious at the implication and near terrified that I’ll believe it. I can’t quite tell if Grevenor genuinely believes Valerik could be guilty or is just being thorough and Henrik is taking justifiable but disproportionate offense, but either way.:

:Even if Grevenor doesn’t believe it, it’s a fair enough point that a lot of people will. Probably the main reason this Bertrand character chose Valerik as the scapegoat.:

:Fires and dead children, of course it’d be one of us,: Kir agreed, tone sour, :Forget the fact that my Firestarters were more than half suicidal when the reforms came down, forget that two of our own students were at direct risk on a scheduled visit! Who else would be so cruel, would be so terrible?:

:Kir…:

:Apologies,: Kir said, exhaling through his teeth and ignoring Henrik’s sidelong glance for the moment because he was so very frustrated. :I just – did not expect that sort of response from a fellow Council member. I thought – well. It seems another reminder that people who I respect for their callings or their duties are not necessarily good allies was necessary after all.:

:I’d be curious to know just what made him so confident in Valerik’s guilt,: Aelius said thoughtfully, :True, you found Valerik’s bracelet there, but that seems very pointed evidence to leave lying around, and honestly, too obvious to be anything but a frame job unless we assume Valerik is an idiot.:

:Only because we found it,: Kir pointed out, :If this place had gone up – the bracelet itself would have been destroyed beyond recognition and as Valerik enchanted this personally, his magical signature would be drenched all over the scene. As long as properly trained individuals investigated… it would be easy to at the very least drag his reputation through hell and back.:

:…Story?:

:One of the tricks I pulled on Phyrrus relied on a similar strategy,: Kir admitted, :Less devastating, insofar as collateral goes, but the same concept. One moment, I think Grevenor has finished his inspection…:

:And Valerik has finally admitted aloud that he’s a Firestarter after Nolans guessed – sounds like we’re in a holding pattern for the Justicar’s authorization on your end, but we’ll probably head to the Outer Eighth Sector Station soon, I’ll keep you posted.:

“Grevenor, anything else?” he asked aloud, glancing the other man’s way when he got in sight.

“No, just the one here and the bracelet,” Grevenor replied, eyeing him thoughtfully, “Any word from your Enforcer?”

“Valerik was rendered unconscious and was fighting off some form of enchantment on a bracelet strongly resembling this one,” Kir said, indicating the bracelet still in Henrik’s hands, “Anur is discussing things with the man who found him, the plan for the moment is to proceed to the Sector Sta – ”

:Kir, sorry to interrupt, but Nolans raised a damn good point that if we don’t do this properly people could very well see the result of this investigation – the clearing of Valerik’s name – as Firestarter’s protecting their own rather than the actual true result of the investigation.:

Kir closed his eyes, suppressing the urge to swear, because Nolans was right and the fact that the only non-Firestarter involved at the moment was Grevenor, who was very blatantly suspicious of them, was the only thing that might let them salvage this. When they had started, he hadn’t thought of investigating anything to clear a Firestarter’s name, he had been focused on reducing the threat and possibly getting a start on discovering who had done this.

The fact that the two of them knew Captain Marghi, had met with the man and promised aid to him in a personal matter, would not help.

:Ask if he has any recommendations,: Kir said finally, :If they seem sensible we’ll follow through, but for the moment the best thing we can do is let the Justicar conduct their investigation independently of ours – nothing has been relayed to Laskaris and Colbern?:

:Nothing,: Kari confirmed.

:Keep it that way for the moment, and don’t pass on anything else to Captain Marghi just yet,: Kir ordered, :I need to check something with Grevenor and Henrik.:

Opening his eyes, he glanced between the two, saw the absurdly tense stare-down they were in the middle of and couldn’t let it pass any longer.

“Move. On,” he said, wanting to flare flames so badly, his instinctive expression of agitation running straight into his desperate need to keep flames away and keep the surrounding area’s temperature as low and stable as possible. Gritting his teeth against the mental strain, he continued, “I will speak with both of you regarding whatever this all is, but not now. Grevenor, this spark anchor – can you tell what will set it off?”

“There seem to be multiple circumstances,” Grevenor said, “Based on complexity of each layer – I would guess that one is a timer, one is some sort of tether-snap, and one is a brute-force activation. Thinking of how a trap like this would be designed – I would guess the tether-snap is linked to something or someone getting too far away from this anchor – you said there was an enchanted bracelet with your Enforcer? I would recommend leaving it where it is, perhaps tucked out of sight, until it can be checked. The brute-force activation might be something I can block, but that would take a fair bit of time and there’s no real way to know what the timer is set to until it’s activated.”

:Nolans’ suggestions boil down to what you said, let things run their course without steamrolling the investigation and try to keep Firestarter involvement at the higher levels at a minimum. Allow the Justicar to take the lead, basically.:

:Very well. But there’s one thing I’m not shifting from, and that’s Valerik’s health and safety. He is not going to the Sector Station, if Nolans needs someone to vouch for him to get him in, we’re taking advantage of the fact Kari can communicate with Captain Marghi to get him to hear Nolans out and take appropriate action. That seems to be all Nolans was after with Valerik’s involvement anyway?:

A brief pause as that was relayed, so Kir spoke aloud and said, “I’m sending Valerik back to the Hall, so long as there are no perimeter spells anchored to him personally. I want the both of you to go to their current location to inspect this spell bracelet – Kari or Hansa will transport you – and then if Valerik can be moved to the Hall, then you both return here and we carry on trying to dismantle this or render it safer. If he has to stay where he is, Henrik, you’ll switch places with Anur and stay with him. Are there any objections to the plan I’ve just outlined?”

“The ward will weaken a bit if I leave it,” Henrik said, sounding like the admission cost him.

“That’s fine,” Kir assured him, cutting himself off when Anur spoke up.

:All Nolans wanted was a way to ensure someone would listen to him instead of ignoring him, having Kari get Captain Marghi to meet with him and listen to what he’s saying is perfectly fine, though he wouldn’t say no to a truth compulsion being placed on him to ensure he’s believed.:

:…Have him offer that to the Captain, if the Captain says it’d be valuable or accepted and Kari is available to play decoy or do it himself, go with it. Either way we need to make sure the Justicar is aware that those truth compulsions are even options, Aelius could you - ?:

:I’ll remind Hansa to pass that message on – and it sounds like the Justicar has just arrived with a five-man squad in tow.:

:Thank the Sunlord,: Kir and Anur both chorused, Kir continuing, :I’m sending Grevenor and Henrik to you because one of the spark anchors might be activated if that bracelet he was wearing gets too far away from a designated point, and there might be something similar linked to Valerik personally. Henrik I’m sending because he’d fret terribly otherwise and if Valerik can’t be safely moved to the Hall I want him to switch places with you. Might want to do that at some point anyway, this spark anchor is in the middle barrel of a bottom layer, Fetching might help get it loose.:

:Let’s see if we can send Valerik away safely first and carry on from there,: Anur proposed, :Kari says he can come and get them, but requests they move to an area with minimal volatiles or at least to a reasonably cleared zone.:

:Agreed,: Kir said, saying aloud, “Right. Apologies – Grevenor, no objections?”

“Henrik could remain here until we know whether or not Firestarter Valerik can be moved, and cut down on the number of transports Honored Kari is managing,” Grevenor said, giving Henrik a pointed look that the younger man coolly ignored.

Kir refused to have any of it and stared the man down, saying flatly, “Yes, because clearly Henrik has expressed trust and respect for your attitudes towards his mentor. He would be on edge and worried about how you treated his teacher while he wasn’t there, and from what I have seen I cannot blame him. You are both going. Get over to a cleared area so Kari can come and fetch you both without being too close to volatiles.”

Naturally, the moment the two of them were almost clear, the buried spark anchor flared.

“…I don’t want to have won anymore.”

“I wish Ivan had won.”

“I think we all wish Ivan had won.”

“Especially Uncle Kir!”

Chapter Text

Anur’s vision blacked out, Aelius’ presence rushing forward to buffer against the sheer roar that echoed down from Kir’s mind, and he couldn’t tell if the shaking he felt was actually the walls and floor or some strange feedback from Kir –

“Breathe!” he heard, feeling a palm slam against his back and he coughed, wheezing as his lungs started working again because that stunned and dazed impact hadn’t been from him, hadn’t been what he’d felt.

:Kir!: he cried.

:I’m alive fine. And fine. Alive and fine,: was the less than convincing response.

“The trap went off?” Nolans asked, voice shaking and Anur forced himself to focus on his own surroundings and let Kir be. He was alive, that was true enough, and intensely focused on whatever mitigation he had managed to pull off mid-explosion, and Anur couldn’t just vanish on Valerik and Nolans without explaining.

“Not all of it,” Anur replied, meeting the man’s gaze and saying, “We’d have heard it ourselves if it had all gone off. Kir’s managed to stop some of it.”

:Were there any other spark anchors beside the one that went? Can that one be set off more than once?: Anur asked Aelius and Kari both, though the Firecat was looking about as dazed as he felt.

:No way of knowing if it’s a one-time anchor or not, Chosen. There’s only one other anchor, Valerik’s bracelet – Henrik has that – but the anchor that went could have multiple stages. I doubt it does, it’s likely been entirely destroyed, but there’s no way of knowing for certain without finding it,: Aelius reported, continuing, :And Henrik and Grevenor are both alive, but from what Kari is reporting they’re not in any shape to move or search – and Kir certainly isn’t. Alive, dazed, but still working to keep things from igniting further. Not safe for Hansa or Kari to go directly to him or even too close to the storeroom. Also, word from Jaina is that Maude Nolan’s bracelet has been isolated from any external activations, but they need more time to actually get it off her wrist safely.:

:Thanks Aelius,: Anur looked at the two men with him and made his decision.

“Henrik, Kir and Grevenor are alive,” he reported, Valerik letting out a relieved sigh and immediately looking shakier than even a few moments ago, Nolans quickly following suit when Anur relayed, “Your sister’s been found, the bracelet can’t be set off by external activation, the only way it can go off is if she takes it off. Getting it to that stage will take more time.”

“Thank you,” Nolans breathed, “Thank you so much.”

Anur briefly squeezed the man’s shoulder, before saying, “Right then. We’re going to the charity temple, help me get Valerik on his feet for transit, I have no idea what sort of footing we’ll end up on.”

:Hansa and I can find a stable patch, but might as well stand, then we can get you close to a bench and have a bit more mobility going forward,: Kari relayed.

“On your feet, then,” Anur said, grabbing his coat off the ground.

“Why the charity temple?” Nolans asked, still ducking under Valerik’s other arm so they could help the man lever himself upright.

“Consolidating,” Anur replied grimly, “Another pointed out there might be tether spells anchored to you directly, Valerik, and until we have a solid no on that I don’t want you further away from the trap than this.”

“Fuck, that would make sense for a frame job perspective,” Valerik muttered, shaking his head and, by the gagging, immediately regretting that choice as his knees gave out.

They managed to catch him, Anur swearing under his breath and adding, “Once we get someone to look at you and confirm absence or unravel them, you’re going back to the Hall. Nolans, I’d consider it a favor if you kept Valerik’s actual job behind your teeth in public, the Justicar will have to be told, Valerik.”

“Fourth Court First Order? They already know,” Valerik huffed, head bowed.

“As for why I’m bringing you with, Nolans – you say people won’t listen, and it sounds like Bertrand has connections all over the Eighth. Talking to a First Order Justicar with two Firecats supervising gives much better odds of not getting brushed off.”

“A good point,” Nolans agreed, glancing between his oil lamp and Kari, glowing at their feet, before blowing the small flame out.

Anur nodded in the now even darker darkness, narrowed his eyes to slits so he wouldn’t be blinded when they were above ground, and said, “Get us out of here, Kari.”

Golden flames surged around them and he definitely heard a startled yelp from Nolans, but Anur had wrapped his arm over Nolans’ when he hooked his arm around Valerik’s waist for just this purpose. He had no idea if Kari could lose someone in those seconds a Jump lasted, but he definitely didn’t want to find out.

“Oh that was so much worse than usual,” Valerik wheezed, practically doubling over even with their support and Anur grimaced – the winter sunlight was a lot less forgiving than Kari’s glow and Nolans’ oil lamp. Valerik’s face was streaked with blood, and there was fresh crimson still trickling down his face. At least he, like most priests, went cleanshaven. Anur had chosen to skip shaving for a few moons once in his first years on Circuit and it had taken one fight with a broken nose for him to decide against it – it didn’t matter how many times he’d washed his beard, it had still smelled like blood a week later.

Anur glanced around; true to his word, Kari had dropped them on a stable patch of ground, and even better, near a bench that pressed against a wall with no overhanging roof that might crush them if anything nearby was less than stable. “That bench,” he said, jerking his head to indicate it and Nolans nodded, helping him haul Valerik towards it and sitting down with him, the priest leaning forward to brace himself on his knees in a much too late effort to let blood drip onto the ground instead of soak into his scarf and coat.

“Kari, stay with them for the moment,” he said, giving the pair one last glance before turning on his heel and striding over to where the others were picking themselves up off the ground.

“Enforcer Bellamy!” Colbern greeted, Anur offering Laskaris a hand to his feet. The whole group was inside the charity temple’s boundary wall and had evidently been knocked off their feet by the blast and more than a little stunned, if they were still in the process of getting up. Some of the courtyard was caved in, or rather blasted out, and one of the building’s facades was badly damaged… hopefully there wasn’t any structural damage, a secondary collapse could start this whole mess over again.

“Kir, Henrik and Grevenor are all alive,” Anur said, focusing on Kir’s presence for a moment and wincing, because that dazed-but-focused state was not something that was sustainable, “We need to get them out of there, I have no idea what state they’re in beyond alive. Laskaris, stay here, Colbern, you’re with me, and if I can borrow two of your Sunsguard, Justicar?”

“Of course,” the black-robe said, standing with his Lieutenant’s help, the officer giving a short nod and two of his four soldiers stepping forward – a Corporal and whatever the equivalent of an entry-level enlisted man was for the city guard. In the regular guard it was based on job title with add-ons of second, senior or head depending on rank. Maybe Patrolman?

“The men I brought with me are Val and the man who found him, potentially caught in an adjacent plot – Kari is with them,” he said, waving to the men in question and all of them glanced that way, Laskaris and Colbern both looking grim when they spotted Valerik’s condition.

“That’s his blood then?” Laskaris murmured, pointing to the coat Anur was in the middle of pulling off – Colbern had told the guardsmen to remove their wool coats to avoid static sparks, and Anur had definitely needed the reminder too.

“Yes,” Anur said, grimacing and finishing taking the coat off before pulling the wrapped bracelet out of its pocket and handing it to Laskaris, “Someone knocked him out and placed this on him, swapped it out for his bracelet, and whatever the enchantments are that are on it he was fighting them and it was – bad. Bleeding, seizure for over a minute, and that was after it was removed, before that he was apparently unable to think straight enough to even call for Kari and acting as though he were badly concussed. Seemed more coherent afterwards but still not well. If you could determine if sending him to the Hall would spring any traps, I’d appreciate it. He needs medical attention.”

“On it,” Laskaris agreed grimly.

:Hansa, keep an eye on these two. I need to check in with Jaina,: Kari at least somewhat broadcast – probably just to himself and Hansa, Laskaris didn’t even twitch and Anur knew damn well the man wasn’t comfortable with mindspeech yet. Hells, no one in this group even seemed to notice Kari leaving: the Justicar was heading for the priests and one priestess assigned to this complex, three Sunsguard in tow, Laskaris was busy staring at the silk-wrapped bracelet with an appalled expression, which Anur would follow up on later, and Colbern was heading for the stairwell with the soldiers they were borrowing. Anur followed, tossing his coat on a bench as he walked by.

:Kir, we’re on our way to you and Colbern’s had us remove our wool coats. Are you pinned down or buried in any way? Can you move your limbs?:

:So many pistachios,: Kir said, sounding dazed even though his mental presence was bright and sharp with a ferocious focus – whatever it was he was doing to keep things from spreading further, undoubtedly, :Not buried or stabbed. Hurts though.:

:Yeah, I’ll bet,: Anur said, grimacing at the sight of the dust-cloud billowing up from the stairs.

“I’ll get Kir, one of you with me the other with Colbern – if you need more help getting Grevenor and Henrik out, give a shout,” Anur told them, getting nods in return. Colbern had a silk scarf wrapped around his face, while the two guardsmen had their regular scarves pulled up. He should probably start carrying two filmy scarves at this rate – one in silk to be a magical insulator, and one in any suitable material to help avoid breathing ash and dust.

Maybe three – having an extra one for Kir couldn’t hurt.

The lighting was terrible, with the dust and the rubble and the fact they were underground, but there were two mage-lights near one another at one end, the main hole in the ceiling at the other and Anur was completely unsurprised to find that Kir’s presence was definitely at that end of the storeroom.

=pagebreak=

His eardrums had definitely burst. There was a terrible ringing and Grevenor’s chest was rising in too irregular a pattern for it to be ordinary breathing, he was trying to say something – or shout something, if the ringing was this bad for him – and Henrik couldn’t hear him at all.

Patting the prejudiced jackass on the shoulder, he slowly pushed himself up and off from where he’d tackled the older priest to the ground. Henrik didn’t like the man, but he was on Solaris’ Council and the only non-Firestarter in the room. They couldn’t afford to have him injured more severely than them, not without at least trying to mitigate his injuries.

Whatever had happened, the Eldest had managed to stop it in its tracks. The two of them were still alive, the room itself seemed mostly intact, and the air was thick with flour and sawdust, pistachios scattered across the ground with chunks of barrels, and he hardly dared breathe because there were sparks –

But nothing was igniting.

Henrik had heard some of the stories, had heard plenty of rumors and theorized limits. He had seen the firestorm yesterday with his own eyes, and the even more impressive cat’s cradle of fire exercise the Eldest had used to test his own control of those golden flames.

Faint flares of light, when a spark caught nearby dust.

But nothing more than that. Somehow the Incendiary was suppressing the entire room so totally, so completely, that sparks with no reason to stop, with no reason to not fill the air with fire, extinguished with barely a flicker to show they ever existed.

Fire wants to burn, he knew. Everyone knew, Third Truth. Everything about this situation, about this scenario, gave fire exactly what it wanted, exactly what it needed to thrive, and the Eldest was able to tell it no. To force it to stop.

Those rumors of the Comb fire extinguishing didn’t seem too outlandish anymore.

With the lights flaring around the room – fewer every moment, thank the Sunlord, whatever the Eldest was managing it couldn’t possibly be easy – it took him a while to notice past his own awe and shock that one of the three steady orbs of light that should be illuminating this mess was missing.

The Eldest’s magelight was gone.

He’s alive, don’t panic, Henrik told himself sternly, eyeing the path that was probably their best bet to finding him if he could manage to stand up, If he wasn’t alive, we’d already be dead, and this is not something someone could pull off unconscious, either.

A third mage-light appeared, but in the wrong spot to be due to the Eldest, unless he had been flung very far indeed and then he probably wouldn’t be capable of lighting said mage-light for entirely different reasons. Hopefully whoever had come down here had remembered to leave their wool coats and such behind – it had been a dry couple of days and a static spark right now could very well be a disaster if the Eldest’s control slipped even slightly.

Colbern and Laskaris would know better. Hopefully it was one of them leading the group of… four?

Squinting and trying to figure out which shadowy figures were actually people and which were shadows of said people, Henrik managed a relieved sigh when he saw them split up. Half were heading for himself and Grevenor, which made sense as they had their own mage-lights to signal their presence, and the other half were heading towards where the Eldest must be.

Perhaps Honored Hansa was leading that set?

Grevenor was still trying to talk, uselessly, as Henrik still couldn’t hear him, and it looked like he was starting to cough instead. Resisting the urge to sigh, Henrik pulled his filmy scarf out of his pocket and handed it over to the man, miming the lower-face wrapping he needed to use. Even if he wasn’t use to working with fire, he was used to Karse, so Grevenor got the gist quickly enough but first pointed at his ears and obviously mouthed the phrase, “Can’t hear.”

Of course you can’t hear that’s how explosions work, Henrik would never say aloud, and instead made a few short gestures to ask for an injury summary.

By the blank look on Grevenor’s face, he didn’t know Ari’s Tongue, which was – fantastic.

To be fair, Firestarters really only used it for the Third Order Trials, but they still learned it and between Seras’ preferences for conserving knowledge and Kavrick’s determination to take all possible precautions on his work with volatiles, most of them could at least get by with the basics. Besides all of that, he considered Tristan a friend, and Tristan was very nearly fluent.

Fortunately for all of them, their searchers arrived, Colbern leading a similarly face-wrapped Sunsguard straight to them and crouching at Henrik’s side, asking him the exact question he’d just signed at Grevenor.

Ear damage, Henrik signed back, Haven’t tried standing. Bruising. No impalements. Extra scarf? G useless.

Rather than sign a reply, Colbern pressed another scarf into his hands, lips definitely twitching at the last, less than generous remark. The Sunsguard wasn’t quite so composed, shoulders shaking in what was probably quiet laughter before he went on one knee next to Colbern and slowly made his own hand signs asking if he could help – not quite Ari’s Tongue, the way he had learned it, but Colbern had once mentioned the Sunsguard hand signals were a bit of a specialized variant, so that made sense. Honestly, Henrik was just glad they were actually mutually intelligible.

Colbern evidently knew that well, having already left to make his way over to Grevenor to try and figure something out to communicate – or just reaching the conclusion that as Grevenor wasn’t screaming or pointing at some mangled limb, he was probably fine. Or at least fine enough to get them out of here.

Sending a quick yes, help stand to the Sunsguard, Henrik slung an arm over the man’s shoulders and they both slowly stood. No terrible pain started flaring, and Henrik carefully let more of his weight rest on his own feet. He probably took longer than necessary for that process, but finding out that his knee couldn’t support his weight because it collapsed out from under him when he tried to stand was a mistake he really only needed to make once, and really couldn’t afford to make here.

Looking the guardsman’s way – city guard, had to be. He didn’t have any of the bladed weapons issued to the Temple District Guard and bandit hunters never bothered carrying truncheons, in Henrik’s experience. Sunlord knew the Enforcer never did – he gave a one handed sign for walk and the man nodded, not so much offering support as offering guidance when Henrik experimentally took a few steps. His balance also seemed fine, which was incredible all things considered, so he removed his arm from the man’s shoulder and signed, Walking fine, thank you. Help C?

The guardsman – some sort of rank, not just a Patrolman, but he couldn’t make out the number or shape of the bars on his shoulders between the dust and less than excellent lighting – shook his head and hesitated briefly before sending back, C and G standing. Help you to stairs and then a series of signs Henrik didn’t recognize. He carefully mimicked the first few of that series and gave a helpless shrug, looking over his shoulder to confirm that Colbern and Grevenor were in fact on their feet. Grevenor looked a little less than steady, Colbern was staying under his arm and gave Henrik an impatient wave to get moving when their eyes met.

He obeyed, the soldier walking close beside – ready to catch him if he stumbled or tripped, probably. The dust was starting to settle a bit, though he doubted it’d completely clear for weeks, even if they removed everything, but he could see things a little more clearly than blurry shadows and the wake of disturbed dust when someone moved. It made it easier to spot the three figures making their way towards the same set of stairs, and he offered the Sunlord a quick prayer of thanks when he realized the Eldest was on his own feet. Supported by his Enforcer, but not being carried or, worse, being left where he was due to some injury that barred him from moving or being moved.

He definitely didn’t look well, though, and required support from both of the men with him to get up the stairs. Henrik managed without much help, but appreciated the steadying arm from his guardsman – there was refusing needless help and there was being stupid, and he had argued with Valerik far too many times about this exact issue to be a hypocrite now.

Oh hells – Valerik!

The Enforcer had kept going once up the stairs, leading the way out into the courtyard proper before easing the Eldest down to sit on a bench shoved up against the wall. Laskaris was there, immediately looking relieved but not moving from where he was standing near the Justicar – oh, excellent, it was Justicar Jeryl. It looked as though he was in the middle of some sort of group interrogation with the priests and one priestess from the temple. They were all looking distinctly pale and horror-struck, and almost entirely focused on the damage rather than what they were saying. Hopefully someone explained to these people how very much worse it could be and could still be, because they had been so very lucky so far.

Abrupt flames made him flinch, but it was just Kari’s arrival and the Cat promptly went to the Eldest, butting his head against his knee and evidently saying something, by the Eldest’s faint smile. Now that Henrik could properly see him, he couldn’t help but wince, because he looked terrible – no way to identify a pallor after that explosion of flour and sawdust, but that powder made the Eldest’s blood streaked face far more noticeable.

Glancing at the others, he hesitated briefly because – well. He had no idea how close to the chest they were playing things regarding Valerik, for one, and for another the Eldest had his eyes closed and was breathing very deliberately. Kari and the Enforcer were definitely in the middle of some sort of mental conversation with him, too, but he had to know.

Perhaps Kari would hear him?

Is Valerik okay? he thought as loudly as he possibly could, Kari definitely hearing him by the Cat’s wince and Henrik grimaced, because he hadn’t quite meant to shout or whatever the equivalent is, but he really hadn’t tried this before.

:Laskaris confirmed there are no tether spells anchored to him, so I brought him to the Hall. Kavrick is helping him get settled and is planning on pouring some tea down his throat while they wait for a healer to look him over. The backlash caused a severe seizure, so we’re being cautious, but aside from that he has bruising and is badly chilled, nothing else,: Kari relayed, and by the Eldest’s relieved expression and his Enforcer’s easing shoulders, he’d been speaking to them as well. No one else seemed to react though, and he doubted the Sunsguard had ever heard mindspeech before.

:Jaina has managed to get to a quiet place to work on the bracelet removal, and has asked if I can be spared to either aid her or to fetch someone else to aid her – I would lean towards the latter, as I have no idea how tiring unweaving that enchantment might be and I’d rather be able to continue relaying and serving as emergency transport.:

The Eldest nodded at that suggestion, so he had apparently known about whatever bracelet Elder Jaina was working on, before his eyes snapped open and his gaze went straight to Henrik. He couldn’t quite suppress a flinch at the distant-eyed blankness that greeted him because he had heard that blasted rhyme more times this year than any other year in his life, but thankfully for his nerves, the Eldest’s eyes were able to properly focus on him soon enough and his hands carefully started to sign a question about his own status.

Rather than speak and rely on the Enforcer to relay for him and risk speaking too loudly or to quietly for polite company, Henrik signed his response right back, Colbern finally depositing Grevenor on another nearby bench and leaving with a brief sign of water to explain his departure.

The soldier who’d helped him – a Corporal, as he could now see – had yet to leave and was watching their conversation with no little fascination, the Enforcer sitting down next to the Eldest and not speaking or signing at all, at least not in a way Henrik could detect. Undoubtedly he was still speaking with the Eldest or Kari with that mental speech Talent of theirs.

At the end of his status update – though for Grevenor he admittedly just signed no screaming can walk is fine rather than any details, which prompted a huff of laughter from the Enforcer and a wry smile on the Eldest’s part – he asked, no fires how long?

One mark, maybe, was the rather grim response, and one Henrik was taking with a barrel of salt even without the Enforcer’s immediate scowl. The Eldest’s nose was still leaking blood, that faint tremor in his hands hadn’t gone away, he definitely wasn’t breathing in very deeply for all that deliberation and only some of his tension could possibly be from pain. The rest was strain.

But the remaining danger was truly a hazard, rather than a threat, now that the anchors were either removed or expended. An insanely dangerous hazard, and one far too easy to trip into on accident, in his mind, but a hazard, nonetheless. The children were long gone, at least, and the whole place was evacuated. With the right precautions – they might be able to get this dismantled safely.

The Eldest apparently had a similar thought, though it took Henrik a moment to realize that he was actually speaking to Kari with his Talent and echoing his words with Ari’s Tongue. It was – rather appreciated, actually, and something to keep in mind going forwards with mindspeaking etiquette, now that he thought of it.

Update all, get help to J, was easy enough to interpret. The flurry of signs that followed seemed to boil down to stating that the Eldest would need to stay here for the removal process, perhaps have Sunsguard assigned to secure the scene or help with removal depending on the Justicar’s preference, but someone who could hear would need to actually supervise the process and give a safety briefing and somehow corpses were involved. Oh, right, Colbern’s suggestion to use corpses for removing the crates and barrels.

He waited for Kari to say his farewells and depart before bringing up his point, waving slightly to draw attention to himself and signing his question, Corpses food safe?

That gave the Eldest pause, before huffing a laugh and responding, Fair point, ask locals.

They both were completely ignoring the Sunsguard’s spluttering and the Enforcer’s definitely amused verbal explanation that Henrik felt like he could hear at least a bit – time would tell if it was wishful thinking or not. Even if the Corporal wasn’t able to understand all the hand signs they used, corpses food safe were each signals the Sunsguard would definitely know individually, and not signs one would ever really want to group together.

Henrik suspected that now the spark-anchors were removed the local priests would prefer they not use corpses to move things. The flour that had scattered was a lost cause, but the pistachios could be cleaned up and the barrels only leaking flour could be salvaged – but not if rotting corpses had tramped all over them.

The Eldest paused mid-sign and his expression abruptly switched to an exasperated fondness, and Henrik didn’t need the way he rammed an elbow into his now laughing Enforcer’s ribs to know who had spoken up to prompt the expression. It really was a good thing that the Eldest and his Enforcer had owned up to the mindspeaking Talent they shared. He wouldn’t say they had been obvious about it, but they had definitely been slipping, and as obvious as they were now the concealment had definitely taken effort.

You don’t need to protect Valerik from me. I hope one day you will be able to believe that, the Eldest had said.

He had never needed to protect Valerik from anyone, not really. Until Solaris, none of the people who considered Valerik’s odder habits and customs worthy of disdain had been appreciable threats. It didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out of his way to find leverage on the worst offenders, but he hadn’t felt desperate, hadn’t felt like Valerik, like any of the Firestarters, were truly under threat.

But with the reforms, a lot of that inherent threat had been lost, and he didn’t know their new Incendiary. He had never heard more than the occasional mention of the man, and suddenly he was now their highest authority, barring Solaris herself! He had been worried.

He probably didn’t need to be.

Hopefully he’d be able to truly believe that soon.

=pagebreak=

“I hadn’t realized Sunpriests had their own version of hand signals,” the Corporal said, Anur glancing over at the man after he managed to stop laughing. Kir hadn’t appreciated his reminder of one of Markov’s nightmare stories regarding corpse-cooks – the one Jer had always gleefully called the corpses in the kitchen story and had always resulted in them demanding Markov never try to help their Ma cook, even though that reaction really didn’t make much sense. One of Markov’s allies or enemies had to have been a necromancer, far too many of his supposedly-true stories involved animated corpses.

He was a little surprised that the guardsman hadn’t returned to his squad; Anur had sent his partner off for water, he wanted to get Kir’s face cleaned off and a damp scarf around his face, because all this dust and powder couldn’t possibly good for him to breathe in. But it looked and sounded as though the Justicar – he needed to get the man’s name and actual title – had things well in hand at the moment with his three remaining guardsmen and Laskaris, and was possibly even wrapping up whatever questioning he was doing of the currently available staff.

He couldn’t help but notice that there were only three members of the priesthood – far too few for it to be the full roster. If Nolans’ information held any truth at all, Bertrand would be among the ones absent.

But he could ask about that later. Right now, the Justicar had things well in hand, he had Kir to worry about, and the Corporal was evidently fascinated by the hand signal conversation the Firestarters were having.

“I’ll be honest, I rather forgot,” Anur admitted. Kir had made a reference to knowing hand signals before he joined the Sunsguard – there had even been a hilarious moment of mutual spluttering when the twins had slipped up and admitted that in their ‘welcome to the 62nd’ briefing there had been a fully spelled out warning that the Firestarter chaplain was more than fluent in Sunsguard handsigns so be smart. It hadn’t come up since, though, and Kir had never used hand signals outside of the basic Sunsguard signals Anur had picked up over the years. Even his effort to learn more of those had rather fallen by the wayside this past year, with Kir so much more willing to mindspeak.

“Silly thing to forget though,” he added, smiling wryly, “It’s called Ari’s Tongue, of course they know it. The Sunsguard apparently just borrowed it and have added enough specialized signs and meanings it would probably count as a dialect in its own right.”

“Sunsguard sign is simplified – some specialized words, but no real sense of grammar and the like,” Colbern corrected, back in earshot and setting his bucket of water down by Kir’s feet, Anur quickly tugging Kir’s bishra scarf out of his brother’s sleeve. He paused in handing it over to Kir, frowning as he unrolled it and laughing when he pulled a few sprigs of sage out of the scarf. Tucking those under his wrist sheath, he pressed the scarf into Kir’s hands.

“Sage, really?” he asked aloud, making sure to echo his words mentally, “And I thought Henri was the one with the sage addiction.”

:He takes it to extremes, but he’s not completely unreasonable,: Kir retorted, wiping his face clean of at least most of the flour and dust and blood that had caked it with one end of the soaked scarf and wringing out the clean end before holding it over the lower half of his face to breathe through.

“In the context of your lives I would think carrying sage is a perfectly reasonable thing to do,” Colbern said, raising an eyebrow at him. Anur huffed a laugh and nodded, because Kir and Colbern alike had a point, and the priest returned the nod before continuing, “I snagged the bucket from the patrolman and sent him back to Justicar Jeryl. What’s the situation below?”

“Kir claims he can keep suppressing flames as totally as he currently is for another mark,” Anur said, taking shameless advantage of the fact that Kir couldn’t physically hear him to tack on a dry, “Which we will be assuming is an overestimation – ow!”

Kir had elbowed him in the ribs again, raising an eyebrow and saying smugly, :You were broadcasting.:

“I was not broadcasting,” Anur grumbled, filing that away to think over later. He was sitting close enough to Kir their thighs were pressed together, so if he had actually been mindspeaking he would have expected Kir to overhear him unless he and Aelius were very focused on shields. He hadn’t been mindspeaking though, so now Kir could apparently listen in when they were in physical contact even if he wasn’t directly mindspeaking to anyone.

Aelius had said the scar aggravation might have resulted in stronger mindspeech for Kir, but they had all been hoping that wouldn’t be the case. Damn it. Something to follow up on later, though, and Anur continued, eyes narrowing, “Aside from that, assuming it’s an overestimation is safer for all involved. Also, you are still bleeding, can you please focus on that?”

:You do remember the Comb Fire?: Kir replied dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose again and shifting his scarf so it was just over his mouth. Blood had already soaked into his wool scarf on the walk up, but at least Ma had made that one red and out of a sturdy wool.

“The Comb Fire had different complications!” he retorted, :And benefits, because I don’t think we can count on the ghost of Lavan Firestorm coming to the heart of Sunhame to help us out right now. Also – given I remember from his records, he might not be helpful in a ‘don’t let the fire even start’ scenario.:

:Yes let’s not invite that,: Aelius said insistently, adding on, :Kir, on that note, I do remember the Comb Fire, and I also remember the mental strain you were under. I could feel it, Kir, and this is a different sort of mental exertion. I trust your estimation, but I don’t understand how you can say that you can maintain it a mark now, when you told me that same time span nearly half a mark ago.:

Kir shifted his free hand so rather than hanging limply over his knee it was more easily visible to the group, making one handed signals that… definitely offered some understanding, but without both hands he was a lot more limited in what he could say. Anur would probably have to summarize afterwards regardless, but for the moment he would focus on Kir’s mental reply.

:Part of that was my own habits – I’ve allowed myself a lot of freedom when it comes to manipulating temperatures and fire in my immediate vicinity. Flaring heat, those golden flames hovering right over our clothes and skin, rain of sparks – I could keep things from truly igniting so I let my own aggravation and the like express itself that way. In a delicate situation like this, I had to remove all of that habitual manipulation, had to consciously avoid it, and it’s not like this situation wasn’t one that would be aggravating in and of itself. Now that I’m not in the middle of the storeroom, now that I don’t have to be immediately present to have a chance to stop Sunlord only knew how many spark anchors, I don’t need to exert that effort – or at least not as much of it,: Kir explained, hesitating before admitting with a grimace, :That’s not to say that the aftermath of this effort isn’t going to be terrible. Physical pain and bruising, certainly, but I’m going to be – badly out of balance. I wouldn’t be surprised if the moment I stop focusing so much on suppression there’s a backlash and we’re in the middle of one of those firestorms like – like after Kiara.:

:Good thing we’re going to be in the middle of a Conclave of Firestarters,: Anur said, not able to use humor to hide his worry but trying anyway and feeling Kir’s rush of fond agreement at the sentiment.

Anur felt his lips twitch into a reluctant smile before he looked to Colbern, summarizing the more immediately relevant bit, “The mark estimate is more accurate than I initially thought, there’s been some change in circumstance that make it reasonable. How much dispersal can be done in a mark? Enough to be effective or will we need to figure out another suppression mechanism for afterwards?”

“Another mechanism can’t hurt,” Colbern said frankly, eyes narrowing and his hands flashing through handsigns that presumably echoed his words for Henrik’s benefit. Kir wasn’t watching, he had shut his eyes and was once again focused mostly on fire suppression, though Anur made sure he kept quietly relaying Colbern’s words into Kir’s mind.

Henrik waved a hand to get their attention and quickly signed, my job, Colbern nodding shortly and continuing, “If you can re-establish your ward, that would help. The other option is getting Seras or Kavrick over here, though I understand the inclination to keep them away for their students’ sake. Regardless, more Sunsguard are due from the Outer Eighth to assist in dismantling, so between them, the volunteers from the staff that Laskaris and Hansa have cleared to help, and Liljan and I, we can utilize all the stairwells. That will make things faster.”

Henrik insistently signed the rather hilarious combination of corpses food safe again and by Colbern’s momentarily appalled expression he also misinterpreted what Henrik was trying to say for at least a heartbeat before his expression switched to an exasperated annoyance.

“We can contaminate the fallen foodstuffs and broken barrels, there wasn’t that much in proportion to what they have there. Besides, none of it was supposed to be there, or at least very little of it was supposed to be there. Whatever is left is pure surplus, they have no right to whine,” he said shortly, signals very emphatic with that same tone, “Liljan found six usable corpses, by the way, she’s en route with a covered wagon.”

“Walkers,” the Corporal said, rubbing his face tiredly, “That is going to be – such a fun briefing. For the safety measures – would Holiness Laskaris be able to assist in supervising that? It would be better to have multiple sets of eyes on any helpers we have to ensure things are done properly and it sounds like yourself and Holiness Henrik will be occupied.”

“Certainly possible,” Anur said for Kir, though Kir’s one-handed yes was easy enough to interpret, continuing for himself, “Some of that depends on Justicar Jeryl and what he needs for the investigation. But for the moment it sounds like we can consider the currently available resources enough for the dispersal effort, though if that changes, we can revisit it.”

“Holiness Jeryl will want to speak to you, Enforcer,” the Corporal said, “And at some point he will undoubtedly wish to speak to everyone who was below, though that can obviously wait until the dispersal is completed.”

“And hopefully they can hear again,” Anur added dryly, exchanging a nod with the man before he set off to update the Justicar. Before Anur could ask about their next steps, though, Kir coughed a few times and he sent a worried look his brother’s way because he’d been fretting about that for years now.

:Your lungs all right?:

:…probably?:

:Kir!:

:Anur I was slammed into a pile of barrels by an explosion, I wouldn’t be surprised if I have fractures, hells I’m lucky it doesn’t feel like anything has fully broken! I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck! Everything hurts, and that’s on top of the mental strain from the flame suppression. None of my ribs have broken and punctured a lung by trauma again – my bad lung has some sharp pains in it, I definitely want to avoid coughing as much as possible, but it hasn’t collapsed.:

“There is a very large swath of territory between ‘my lung has collapsed’ and ‘my lungs are just a little sore’ which contains the ‘my lung has been repunctured due to impact’ option!” Anur cried, knowing it was useless because Kir couldn’t hear his voice and making damn sure his mindspoken echo held the exact same level of frustrated worry.

“Wait, what?” Colbern asked, sounding properly alarmed and Henrik picking up on that, shooting his own worried look their way.

Anur met Kir’s flat stare, and knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

Running a hand down his face, he exhaled between his teeth and switched entirely to mindspeech, :Kir. How necessary is your active fire suppression?:

:There are fewer sparks now than at first, but it’s dry enough and the airborne volatiles are thick enough that static sparks are happening even without anything else agitating them,: Kir said grimly, :Anur, I can’t leave. Henrik’s fire suppression ward gave me extra support, but on its own it’s as good as useless in this situation. Perhaps when things are more dispersed, when the powder is less thick in the air, it will be more effective, but as it stands? I’m the only thing keeping this entire facility from being torn down around our ears.:

“All of our options are terrible,” he grumbled aloud.

:So we pick the one we hope we can live with later,: Kir said, Anur nodding because that was perfectly true before he paused, eyes narrowing.

“I told you that!” he spluttered.

:What, and because you said it, it’s less true?: Kir teased, Aelius chortling in the background.

:He’s got you there, Chosen!:

“That is not what I meant and you know it!” he protested to them both, feeling his lips twitching into a smile regardless. Sighing, he shook his head and focused again on their current crisis.

“Henrik, will you be able to reestablish your ward? The anchors are somewhere in the middle of that mess,” Anur asked, hesitating over how he could ask that with his own limited knowledge of Ari’s Tongue but Kari evidently relayed his message for him, Henrik’s gaze darting between him and the Cat.

Henrik’s hands flew through his response, Kari translating, :He can sense some of the anchors still in place, but he would need to reestablish a boundary. Best bet would be for him to borrow some of Kavrick’s anchors to fill in the gaps. I can take him to get those.:

:Can you get Grevenor out of here while you’re at it?:

:And not leave him in the Hall?: Kir added, voice distinctly sour.

Anur raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything. The Hall was a shelter and a safe place within the District for all the Firestarters; Grevenor’s attitude wasn’t one that would be welcome there. He just hadn’t expected Kir to state it quite so blatantly.

:I will drop him off with Solaris and Karchanek,: Kari said loftily, :And ask you, Aelius, to ensure Her Emminence is properly informed of the entire story.:

:Already done,: Aelius replied, definitely smug, and more than a little gleeful.

Solaris was not going to be particularly sympathetic to Grevenor’s bias, after all.

:Don’t make me laugh, witch-horse!: Kir groaned, shoulders shaking with suppressed snickers. He managed to avoid properly laughing, though, which was a relief.

“Right then, Kari, please do so,” Anur said, the Cat nodding and herding the two priests close enough together he could Jump with them both.

He had to shake his head at the body language he’d just watched, because that was terrible, and not just because of the horrible herding cats pun.

:I realize you said that there was some tension there, but wow,: he muttered, Kir grimacing.

Anur focused on Colbern next and said, “Right, Kir needs to stay here, Henrik establishes his ward, there will likely be fire surrounding Kir which is fine, but should probably happen further away and nowhere near entrances people will be using to move volatiles. Yourself and… Liljan, right? Will be handling the corpse crews, will you be able to supervise Sunsguard crews at the same time or will that be an exclusive focus?”

“Safer to veer towards exclusive,” Colbern said.

“We’ll definitely need to leave Laskaris behind then,” Anur murmured, brow furrowing, “The Outer Eighth is sending some men, no idea how many, the man who found Valerik is here to give testimony, he’s been blackmailed, Jaina is with his sister unwinding that, hopefully almost wrapped up, all we have left – right. I’ll stick to the Justicar and offer aid in the investigation. Hopefully my being Enforcer rather than Firestarter will keep questions of bias in the investigation to a minimum, but I’m not comfortable with our Order having no one involved in the investigative aspect, not now.”

“Not ever,” Colbern agreed, voice sour before it lightened again, the man saying briskly, “A reasonable strategy. I’ll help you get the Eldest further away, that bench where you tossed your coat should be safe enough and still be in range.”

The bench in question wasn’t too far, and Kir was able to walk with only Anur’s support, but standing and sitting required both of them easing him through the motions.

:We might be begging Kari to take us to the 62^nd, depending on fractures,: Aelius pointed out, Anur wincing.

:Even if he hasn’t broken anything, I think I’d prefer it,: Anur admitted, pulling his coat back on and careful to keep those words for Aelius alone, :It’s winter, current dry spell aside, going north we’ll be riding straight into the teeth of whatever storms are out there and his lungs…:

“Ah! Liljan’s here!” Colbern said, huffing a laugh, “And it looks like those Sunsguard you mentioned arrived right on her heels. Fun preview for them. You will be all right here, Eldest?”

Kir caught the handsigned question and nodded, signing a response back without bothering to translate for him, but Anur was able to catch the basic gist – assent and thanks.

:I should grab Nolans and head for the Justicar,: Anur said, but he sat down next to Kir.

Kir hummed quietly, pressing their knees together and agreeing, :You should.:

They breathed quietly for a few more moments, before Kir clicked his tongue against his teeth and carefully undid his coat, reaching into an inner pocket and pulling out his sun-blessed steel Sun in Glory.

:Give me an arrowhead or two, just in case, but you should take this,: Kir said, Anur freezing when Kir pressed it into his hands.

:Kir, why would I need this at all?: he protested, curling his fingers around the medallion regardless. He couldn’t let it drop.

:I will not have anyone doubt that you speak for me,: Kir said flatly, intent focus and humming tension momentarily fading under a bone-searing fury, :I want the people involved in this plot found, exposed for what they are and ruined. This could have shattered us. Could have set us back to the very start and even further, scrabbling to dig ourselves out of the condemnation people send our way, and I will not see them get away with the attempt.:

Anur felt his eyes narrow, his face twist into a snarl, because Kir was right. He could see it playing out that way himself, and he very much agreed.

Bertrand and his associates wouldn’t be getting away with this.

He settled the chain around his neck and passed Kir two arrowheads in exchange.

Anything further was interrupted with Henrik’s arrival, Kari appearing with him right in front of them, the younger man looking more than a little nauseated this time. Transits got rougher the more often you did them in rapid succession, and Henrik hadn’t had much chance, if any, for Kari to Jump with him this past year. Oddly, though, Henrik was carrying a basket?

“Why the basket?” Anur asked, knowing Kir was just as bemused.

“Maltin sent snacks?” Henrik asked more than said, apparently able to hear at least somewhat. His voice was a little louder than necessary as he continued, “I went to get Kavrick’s anchors and Maltin ran over with this basket. It has flasks of lemon water and some bread and hard cheeses.”

“Maltin is brilliant,” Anur said, Kari purring a laugh and Henrik grinning, dropping red silk into Anur’s hands before setting the basket at Kir’s feet.

“Kavrick intercepted us too, said you should take that. Lumira and Fabron finished the additions while you two were gone, though it looks like the Eldest lent you a different sign of authority.”

“Sash is a little less open to interpretation though, I’ve already been called Holiness once today,” Anur murmured absently, unfolding the sash to inspect it while Henrik set off with his replacement ward anchors. Lumira and Fabron had been working on Kir’s vestments since early autumn, when Jaina had approved Kir’s old winter weight formal vestments. They had asked to look at his sash when he left it behind for the visit to the Dineshes, but he had thought they wanted to look at Kir’s embroidery or check for any of Kir’s potential string magic, not that they had planned to modify his sash themselves!

Not too much had changed though – still crimson silk with Kir’s carefully embroidered golden Sun in Glory on one side, but Fabron and Lumira had sewn a thin stripe of gold fabric along each of the long edges, running end to end. Running his finger over the stripe, he frowned as he felt clumps of something underneath the fabric, resting between the gold cloth and the crimson backing.

:Knots anchoring their protective spells,: Kir explained, running his fingers along the edge of the sash himself while Kari looked on, equally intrigued, :Looks like they properly settle when you’ve tied the sash on – you’ll want to make sure you fully untie it every time you remove it, then, that will keep the spells from wearing out too soon. I’ll have to ask them what they did, I don’t recognize some of these beyond basic protective intent.:

“I like it,” he decided, pulling his coat off and standing so he could properly tie the sash on. Just as well he’d just thrown his coat over his Sunsguard uniform for their venture into Sunhame – with all the trappings of rank on the shoulders and arms of the uniform, so long as he’d kept his coat buttoned and his scarf snug, there’d been no reason to change.

The modifications didn’t alter how he had to tie the knot, which was even better, and Anur put his coat back on before resting a hand on Kir’s shoulder, murmuring, :Do you want your Sun in Glory back?:

:No, keep it,: Kir said, leaning back against the wall behind him and exhaling slowly, :I’m going to be surrounded by fire in the next few moments. I won’t be needing any additional signs of authority. You might. That’s a First Order Justicar, and I’ve never dealt with him before.:

:Good thing I’m rather immune to shock-and-awe on the part of priests,: Anur said dryly, picking up the food basket and eyeing it, asking, :If I set this next to you so you can touch it, will it not get set on fire?:

:Leave a flask and a hunk of bread with me, set it somewhere else so the others can get to it,: Kir replied, Anur nodding and doing just that, and utterly unsurprised at the flickers of flame that started appearing in the air around them.

:Don’t scare the locals too badly,: Anur teased, hesitating before saying more seriously, :Kir, if you need to leave, if your lungs get worse – please.:

Kir held out a hand and tangled their fingers together when Anur clasped it, his brother smiling wryly, :I’ll do my best.:

:And that’s all I can ask of you,: Anur agreed, huffing a laugh. :All right, now I really do need to get Nolans to the Justicar.:

:Good hunting, brother. Try not to stab too many people.:

:Well that leaves me plenty of flexibility!:

Aelius and Kir were both mentally laughing at him, Anur grinning before turning on his heel with Kari pressing himself against his side. Glancing Nolans’ way, he was unsurprised to see the man on the same bench he had left him, and equally unsurprised to see he was sitting slumped forward, braced against his knees and head bowed. Perhaps he was tired, was exhausted, from his story he had been through a lot of shocks in the last few days.

Perhaps he was making sure the guardsmen of the Outer Eighth Sector Station couldn’t get a good look at his face. Regardless, Anur would leave him be for a moment, just keep an eye on him to make sure he stayed put and wasn’t interfered with. The Justicar was giving the new arrivals a briefing, he could pull the man over to listen to Garth Nolans afterwards.

“And how did Grevenor handle his second Jump of the day?” he asked quietly, the Firecat chuffing in amusement and shaking his head.

:Not well – but he also just experienced some serious concussive force, even if Henrik managed to block some of it with his own body, Henrik is also much younger. I doubt Henrik noticed, but when Solaris clasped his hand in thanks he was at least somewhat healed. A subtle bit of help.:

:Better for us, in this case,: Aelius pointed out, voice grim once again, :If we’re trying to avoid leaving anyone with the impression that influence and power bought the verdict… best to keep things subtle. Kir is going to be dramatic enough as it is.:

:Oh he is going to hate the stories that come out of this,: Anur thought ruefully, spotting Laskaris’ startled expression and how the man’s gaze was locked over Anur’s shoulder.

:He’ll get over it,: Aelius said, though his tone was sympathetic. :At least with Maltin’s influence over the golden flames it’s not just him this season.:

:A very good point!: Anur cheered, handing Laskaris the basket and distracting the priest from his staring.

“Maltin sent snacks,” he explained, the man’s confused expression melting into a surprised fondness.

“And I thought we adults were supposed to be the ones fussing,” Laskaris murmured, shaking his head before focusing on Anur, “So, Colbern and Henrik will be staying here, as will the Eldest, I assume?”

“He will,” Anur agreed, glancing past Laskaris to where the Justicar was giving a briefing to the twelve men that had arrived from the Sector Station. Only one Sergeant, though there were three Corporals. He was going to have to ask someone how city guard was organized, between that and the Justicar’s own bizarrely structured five-man squad he had no idea how this shook out in number of squads.

“Unless he has objections, I’ll be accompanying the Justicar and offering whatever aid I can to the investigation, have a fair bit of information for him too,” Anur said, meeting Laskaris’ gaze again, “Colbern says it’d be better to assume his focus will be exclusively on his corpses, and Henrik needs to get this ward set up. My thought is to have you stay here to serve as additional supervision and ensure things are placed far enough apart and safety measures are being abided by, while also ensuring no one is quite so stupid as to try and knife Kir in the ribs.”

“Henrik said something about a repunctured lung?” Laskaris asked, eyes narrowing.

Anur grimaced, “He says it’s not at that point yet, but with all the dust and possible coughing…”

“Hells, and I can still see sparks in the dust-cloud that’s down there, we can’t afford him leaving,” Laskaris grimaced, pulling the silk-wrapped bracelet out of his pocket and passing it to him, “Justicar Jeryl knows I have it, but hadn’t properly examined it yet. If my focus is switching from the investigation, you should take it. I’ll see if we can salvage any pieces of the spark anchor in the course of the dispersal but I doubt anything survived. I’ll stay and supervise, and stand as close to that… miniature firestorm as I dare.”

“Thank you, Laskaris,” Anur breathed, letting some of his worry fade and finally glancing over his shoulder to see this so-called firestorm.

A little more dramatic than the meditation circle that Fabron had found so startling, but far less than the firestorm that had immediately followed Kiara’s visit. He would even say less dramatic than what had happened after Silas’ accidental ambush, and certainly less dramatic than Maltin’s firestorm.

“And you barely even pause,” Laskaris said, sounding more than a little bemused, “That is nothing to you, isn’t it.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Anur replied, meeting the man’s gaze and smiling faintly, “But I’m certainly used to it by now. Justicar’s name is Jeryl, and he’s First Order?”

“Yes,” Laskaris confirmed, turning on his heel, “I’ll introduce you, they should be done with the situational briefing and ready for the how not to kill us all briefing.”

Anur nodded, not that Laskaris could see it, and glanced at Kari, who was looking a little worn – mostly obvious because Hansa was also in sight and looking distinctly fresher.

:Are you all right, Kari?:

:…I’m a little tired,: the Cat admitted, shaking his head, :Jumping with passengers takes a fair amount of effort, and I stayed awake most of the night with Maltin after that firestorm. There’s a reason I wanted to get Jaina someone else to help with the bracelet removal. I brought her Ulrich, by the way. As it is – if I need to do more than a couple of in-Sunhame Jumps in the next few marks I will have to postpone helping Captain Marghi, which I’d really rather not do.:

:I was thinking on that – Kir’s spelled Sun-in-Glory will help protect his mind, but would one of my arrowheads potentially help?:

:It couldn’t hurt,: Kari said thoughtfully, before shaking his head, :Something to consider, certainly, but for the moment I will hope I can help him properly this evening. We really don’t know enough about what exactly sun-blessed steel can do.:

“Are you going back to Jaina and Ulrich, then?” Anur asked, switching mediums and focusing on the more immediate issues, “Or are they fine on their own? Are you planning to stay here as an evacuation method if everything goes wrong? Should we have you swap out with Hansa? I don’t know how straining that Tell Me True working is.”

:And I could do it, you could just be a prop,: he added.

:…That might be for the best, actually. I will ask Hansa.:

“If Ulrich and Jaina need help, Hansa can take that job and you can stay here or vice versa, we can always pause truth-spelled questioning for a bit, and then whoever is more drained can take the truth spell angle,” Anur pointed out, glancing up when Laskaris reached the Justicar before looking back to Kari, “We can reassess then.”

“A repunctured lung?!”

“Kiara, where is your alcohol? I need the help.”

“Oh Sunlord, being in touch with him is going to be harder on my nerves than not knowing at all...”

Chapter Text

He considered himself relatively used to Sunhame, and relatively hard to startle, but Holiness Lumira’s relayed message from Henrik had not left him remotely prepared for the situation he was now in charge of investigating.

Jeryl left Holiness Laskaris to give a safety briefing, the twelve men sent over from the Outer Eighth listening to the man intently, as they should. He would have to try and make time to ask the Sergeant which of the three Corporals accompanying him was the one being considered for promotion, he liked to offer his own opinions of the soldiers he worked with for their Captain’s consideration in his summary reports and that would help target his focus. He likely wouldn’t have much chance to interact with them, though; barring some strange circumstance he would likely leave Corporal Larson and Patrolman Vaust as Court eyes on this situation while he took the others to Fourth Court with whatever witnesses he gathered.

Two of the staffers mentioned reporting odd storage methods and being told it was under investigation already, and one of the priests had taken a little too long on his answers for him to believe it hadn’t been a potentially successful attempt to circumvent Honored Hansa’s truth compulsion.

Two Firecats. There were two Firecats involved in this investigation. He had never expected to catch more than a glimpse of Honored Hansa on one of his attendances of Main Temple services, and had considered himself immensely fortunate to have once, from a distance, seen the Firecat disappear in a wash of golden fire. Now he was actually having Honored Hansa assist in his investigation, and had seen that same vanishing-in-fire transport mechanism no less than four times today! If he weren’t more than a little terrified of being rude, he’d ask if he could be taken somewhere using that method just to see what it was like.

The Firecats almost made it possible to ignore the animated corpses and the miniature firestorm that the Incendiary was apparently using as backlash aversion for his own fire suppression methods, and made the involvement of what felt like half the Firestarting Order positively mundane in comparison. Here he had thought that his experience working with Firestarters – well, with Holiness Valerik – would actually make a significant difference in managing this investigation.

It really didn’t help at all.

“Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy?” he asked, the man looking up from where he was crouched next to both Firecats, evidently in the middle of an intent discussion with them and seeming far more used to dealing with Firecats than Jeryl would have expected, “Holiness Laskaris says you will be taking his place in assisting with the investigation.”

“Yes,” the soldier agreed, rising to his feet and looking so very strange to Jeryl’s eyes, even used to the Sunsguard as he was. Perhaps especially used to the Sunsguard as he was; it made the brilliant crimson and gold sash far more jarring, since he truly knew how very out of place it was. The Sun in Glory hanging around the man’s neck was unusual, but did not feel as odd. He had declared an Investigator or two in his stead over the years, after all.

“I will not be much help with fire mitigation,” the man continued wryly, “And given the apparent effort to target Firestarters in this plot, it is preferred someone in the Order is involved in the investigation.”

“I quite agree,” Jeryl said, knowing very well that neither of them were mentioning the deliberate political calculus that left an Enforcer to take that slot rather than one of the junior priests in the Order. Enforcers were not priests, after all, which would let some forget the fact that an Enforcer’s authority was highly dependent on the Firestarter they declared for. The fact this man was Enforcer for the Incendiary left Jeryl with practically no authority over the man beyond what Bellamy himself allowed.

That being said, Jeryl saw no issue with it. The man freely spoke to Firecats, and both Honored Hansa and the other Firecat had deigned to let him touch them during the course of their conversation.

“You were not here when I arrived, it was mentioned that Honored Kari had taken you to find Holiness Valerik – which I suppose means you are the Honored Kari they mentioned?” he said, directing his question to the Cat in question and not quite able to stop his flinch when the Cat spoke directly to him.

:I am. If it is agreeable to you, Justicar, I will be remaining with you for the required Tell Me True workings, while Hansa assists one of my Firestarters in removing a trapped bracelet from a witness’ wrist.:

“Another one?” Jeryl asked, narrowing his eyes before realizing that he should answer the question first and saying, “Ah, my apologies. That is perfectly agreeable to me, Honored Kari, Honored Hansa.”

Focusing back on the Enforcer rather than watch Hansa depart in fire, he returned to his initial question, “Another bracelet? Distinct from the one Holiness Laskaris said he handed back to you?”

“Yes,” the man confirmed, pulling said bracelet, wrapped in silk, out of his pocket and carefully unwrapping it without touching the beads with bare skin. “Another Firestarter, Valerik, was knocked out and had this placed on him. He’s recovering from magical backlash after the bracelet was removed and whatever resistance he was putting up to the spells had nothing to counterbalance, suffered a severe seizure in addition to whatever injuries knocked him out in the first place. After Laskaris confirmed he didn’t have spell tethers attached directly to him we sent him back to the District to recover.”

“I am familiar with Holiness Valerik. And that bracelet – that bears a very strong resemblance to the one I usually see him wear,” Jeryl said, frowning as he slipped into mage-sight and feeling it switch to a grimace, “Though not at all in terms of spellwork. That is a very harsh geas, he was conscious at some point before its removal?”

“Yes, though acting as though badly concussed, suffering severe headaches and losing swaths of time,” the Enforcer reported, sounding concerned, “Can you tell what it’s supposed to do?”

“Only in general scope, but it was definitely designed to keep someone under for a long time. I’ve only seen this sort of working in – well. I’ve seen it to make some medical procedures easier, and I’ve seen it to secure powerful mages when they are taken prisoner rather than immediately executed. If he was conscious before its removal, that explains why the backlash was so severe,” Jeryl explained, humming thoughtfully as he tried to get a better feel for the other spell layered on it, “And some form of anti-scrying ward, though it seems to be one that ties into another net… ah. It is tied into the wards here, interesting. Definite sign someone in the complex was involved in making this.”

“Are anti-scrying wards on temple grounds typical?” the Enforcer asked, rewrapping the bracelet.

“Not particularly, but they are not particularly frowned upon either,” Jeryl replied absently, waving one of his Patrolmen over and ordering him to shake the local priests down for the ward diagrams or at the very least a ward list.

Deactivating his mage-sight while the man set out on his mission, he blinked a few times to let his vision resettle before refocusing on the Enforcer and prompting, “Very well, it seems the whole event will be relevant. In fact – yourself and His Incandescence – ”

He paused at the chuckle that title prompted, the Enforcer looking deeply amused as he said, “He prefers Incendiary. Well, he prefers Holiness Dinesh, but of the assorted titles for the head of the Firestarting Order, he prefers Incendiary.”

“Ah. Very well then. Yourself and the Incendiary were the ones to discover this?”

“Not quite,” the Enforcer corrected him, indicating Honored Kari as he said, “Two of our Order’s students were here, one of them detected that there were dangerous quantities of pistachios and other volatiles in the lower levels, and called on Kari to retrieve the two of us for confirmation. We then coordinated with the two of them and one of the staff, a young woman named Sable, to get the children out without alerting any observers that the plot had been discovered.”

“And how far in advance was this visit by two of your Order’s students planned?” Jeryl asked sharply, realizing rather belatedly that Bellamy’s reference to this plot targeting Firestarters did not necessarily only refer to a potential frame job on Valerik.

“Quite,” the man replied grimly, “And the fact that Rodri can detect flammables to this degree is – rather rare, and only recently trained up. His presence was also not as guaranteed, but Etrius grew up here and every year for the past four years he’s visited three days before Midwinter’s Vigil.”

“Noted,” Jeryl said, grimacing. Targeting children was despicable, of course, but the fact that Firestarters had unique abilities making them essential to safely dismantling this trap put the fact that one of their students had been a likely target of this attack in a bit of a different light. Someone attempting to frame Valerik for this would cause considerable tension on its own, if one of the students had been injured in a plot they practically had to be called in to dismantle…

It would make presenting a reasonable and unified front far more difficult to manage.

“And this was the point where the other Firestarters were sent out on their missions?” Jeryl asked, nodding towards the witness Bellamy had brought with him, “And where does this one come in?”

“He was coerced into assisting in snatching Valerik, waited for an opportune moment to disable the others involved and get him out with the intent of reporting to the Outer Eighth Sector,” Bellamy said, Jeryl immediately growing far more interested in what exactly this prime witness had to say.

“Coerced – that would be the bracelet Honored Hansa is helping disable?”

“It’s placed on his sister, they were left with the impression that it would kill her if removed by anyone but Bertrand, or if Bertrand believed he had been betrayed. Sounded to me like it was – well, a long standing relationship, Bertrand finding leverage over him and forcing him to obey. The siblings apparently agreed enough was enough and had planned to pass information to Jaina in guise of Jana via the sister’s market stall, with Garth Nolans intending to use Val’s presence as a victim to get his own information listened to,” the Enforcer summarized, stepping aside a bit and tilting his head in this Garth Nolans’ direction, saying “He’s more than willing, even eager, to testify under a Tell Me True.”

“Excellent,” Jeryl said, eyes narrowing, “Kindly introduce me, Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“Certainly, Your Holiness.”

=pagebreak=

So far this Justicar seemed solid, and seemed to be making the same sorts of connections Anur was as far as piecing this plot together went. Hopefully his brief introduction of the whole Garth Nolans situation would ensure the man was properly heard out, given his professed difficulties in getting anyone to listen to him. Anur would rather not have to insist on points in this investigation, but he would if he had to. It was the whole reason he was so intent on tagging along.

Hopefully the fact that Valerik evidently knew this Justicar wouldn’t come back to bite them…

“Your Holiness, this is Garth Nolans, the man who found Valerik. Nolans, His Holiness Jeryl, Justicar of the First Order, assigned to Fourth Court," Anur said, unsurprised when Nolans rose to his feet and offered a short bow to the Justicar before settling into a rough approximation of attention - very deliberately off from the usual Sunsguard version of attention, Anur suspected. Before either of them could speak though, he added for Nolans' benefit, "Nolans, Honored Hansa just left to help in removing that bracelet from your sister, we should have more information soon."

“My thanks, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” the man said quietly, inclining his head again before focusing on the Justicar and saying, “You have questions, Holiness?”

“If you could summarize your involvement in finding Holiness Valerik, to start with,” Jeryl said, glancing at Kari as he asked, “Honored Kari, if you would place Garth Nolans under a truth compulsion?”

The Justicar focused on Garth again, explaining, “My understanding of the spell is that you will be physically unable to speak a falsehood, and redirection will not work.”

“Not smoothly, at least,” Anur agreed, remembering those early trials with Kir and some of the more creative dodging strategies they’d come up with later. At least they’d been able to confirm with Kari that the Tell Me True working reacted to the same sort of emotional impressions as the vrondi based Truth Spell.

:I can handle this working, Anur,: Kari said, tail flicking as he leapt up onto the bench Nolans had left, sitting down and staring intently at the man in question.

“I will need to get details on that from you, I suspect there was some dodging in my earlier questionings,” the Justicar said, glancing back to Kari and waiting for the Cat’s firm nod before turning to Nolans and saying, “Proceed, please.”

“Two days ago I was supposed to meet an ally to exchange information, but Bertrand was there instead. Bertrand being the black-robe priest assigned here as second in command,” Nolans explained, relief flickering across his face when no one interrupted and he continued smoothly, “He – essentially he taunted me for thinking I could get away with attempting to ruin him or at least bring him under scrutiny, and implied he was responsible for the fact my sister’s business has been suffering difficulties in the past few moons. We had been in the middle of gathering enough evidence and witnesses to get him investigated last Midwinter, and in the chaos of – well. In the chaos, we slipped up and he was able to find enough leverage to render our attempts useless. I hadn’t heard from him since that, though looking back I suspect he had been planning to bring me back under his control for a few moons.

“I refused to listen, two days ago, and left. We had taken precautions, but they weren’t enough. Night before last, he showed up at our door and I had to let him in, he’s a mage and there were innocent people around. He repeated some of the taunting, drawing my sister into it as well – we live together – and ordered me to assist some of his other bully boys in knocking out and abducting Val… Holiness Valerik, I mean, the following night. So last night. He – burned my sister’s hands, during that discussion, and when he said he would heal them – which we didn’t dare refuse, sirs – he put a bracelet on her and said that if anyone but him tried to remove it she wouldn’t have hands to heal any longer. I’ve seen him use similar bracelets to do terrible things to people, aside from them trying to remove it, and Maude knew those stories. After I agreed to do what he said, he left, and – we argued for a long while, sirs, but finally agreed we had little choice, so wrote out everything we knew so Maude could slip it into Jana’s order – ah. Jana being Val’s sister – wait.”

Nolans paused, glancing Kari’s way and frowning, before looking to Anur and asking, “How is it I can say that when I know that Val and Jana are actually – well. Not Val and Jana?”

“It’s not that they’re not Val and Jana, it’s that Val and Jana aren’t the entirety of who they are. If Valerik were here and under the compulsion, depending on who he was speaking to he would be able to claim his name was Val or Valerik,” Anur explained, “Likewise with Jana. You can answer a question of who are you with your name, your job, your relationship to someone else – none of those things are false in and of themselves, so you can say it as truth. You know Val and Jana as Val and Jana, and when you’re speaking this narrative you are viewing them through that lens. I suspect when we get to the point of the summary where Kari and I show up, or you at least start suspecting Val’s actual profession, you will find you have to switch to speaking of him as Valerik, because that aspect of his identity is what’s at the core of your perspective on him at that time.”

Seeing the startled glances he was getting for that explanation, he shrugged and admitted, “Kir and I have spent a lot of time figuring out the limitations of this sort of truth compulsion.”

:This sort of truth compulsion, yes, because there is such a variety,: Aelius said dryly.

:Well I have to use those skills we developed somehow!:

“That – sounds very interesting,” Jeryl admitted, turning back to Nolans and saying, “Also, I’m rather interested to see if his estimate on when you will feel compelled to refer to Val as Valerik is accurate. Regardless, I will be asking more detailed questions once this is over and we can determine if there are any other ambiguities the truth compulsion is not catching.”

“Of course, sir,” Nolans agreed, continuing where he left off, “At the time, we did not know why Val in particular was chosen as a target, though now I have my suspicions. We decided that as Val was known to the Outer Eighth Sector Station as a friendly I would be able to use getting him free as leverage to have myself heard. I have attempted reporting crimes and other intelligence to them and been turned aside due to – well. Due to my reputation, from working under Darius Vars and through him, Bertrand.”

“I am familiar with the name Darius Vars,” Jeryl said, scowling, “I was quite annoyed when he was discharged before the official policies came down, and worst luck none of the appeals brought new information I could pursue him with.”

“Appeals, sir?” Nolans asked.

“Yes,” the Justicar said, giving the man a puzzled look, “Part of the procedures issued last spring – anyone issued a discharge within a year of Her Eminence’s Ascent has the right to appeal the decision and present their case before a troika consisting of one Justicar, one temple priest from a community not including the man in question, and one of the regional commanders.”

“Within a year,” Nolans repeated flatly.

Anur swore under his breath, saying, “Someone told you you had no right to an appeal.”

“I filed paperwork for an appeal and was informed that as I was discharged before the official policies were handed down, I had no right to one. I never heard differently,” Nolans agreed, looking helplessly furious, “Though I suspect others were told I never bothered filing, thereby confirming my guilt in their minds. Why would he do that?”

“I accept your request for an appeal,” Jeryl said, sounding far more pleased than the topic warranted, but given the fact he’d apparently been trying to pin something on this Darius Vars character for some time, Anur couldn’t blame him. “And will be sure to arrange it promptly. Before we return to the current issue, however, who denied your appeal?”

“Former Captain of the Outer Eighth Sector Station, Captain Pars,” Nolans replied promptly, hesitating before admitting, “He has grandchildren, sirs. They would have been easy targets, in Darius’ mind.”

“Understood, and we will do our best to minimize collateral damage caused by pursuing this issue,” Jeryl assured him. “Now, your sister and yourself developed a plan to get the word out regarding this plot, or at least a plot to abduct Valerik. What details were you aware of regarding the full scope?”

“Little to none,” Nolans said, “All I was told was to meet up with a few others, assist them in knocking Valerik out and transporting him to an underground cell, and ensure that his own bracelet was swapped out for one Bertrand supplied. I will be frank, my presence was entirely unnecessary. I think the only reason he wanted to involve me was so he would have fresh leverage over me, especially considering the scope of what he was apparently planning.”

Anur inclined his head at Jeryl’s raised eyebrow, guessing his question and repeating Kir’s assessment, “There are enough volatiles down there to severely damage the entire complex and entirely destroy at least a few buildings.”

“Holinesses Laskaris and Colbern estimated as much,” Jeryl said grimly, “And with the targets – yes. There are likely quite a few layers to this. I will ask for details of how exactly you disabled Valerik, but for the moment – how did you get him out of wherever he was being stored?”

“I was in charge of handing off Valerik’s bracelet, but I knew where they were placing him, I knew the men involved, too, they were also once on Darius’ squad. Former Patrolman Larschen and former Senior Patrolman Norris. It wasn’t hard to convince them I wanted to catch up. We haven’t spoken since our discharge. I convinced Norris to let me take his place guarding Val’s cell with Larschen, he’s got a little girl, runs him ragged in the holiday season, it was an easy enough sell, and once he was out of reach I knocked Larschen out, tied him up to try and make him look alert, and took his key bracelet to get Val out. Plan was to bring him to the Outer Eighth Sector Station through the underlevels, use the fact I’d found him to get in the door and heard out.”

“Key bracelet?” Anur interrupted, finally registering the mixed cord and bead bracelet on Nolans’ wrist, and the man immediately pulled the bracelet off and held it out to them.

“Bertrand issued one of these to a lot of us, there are – patterns, carved into door frames or memorized, to determine what combination of beads need to be applied and in what order before turning the key is safe,” he said, grimacing, “We were supposed to memorize them but there were far too many, I was just lucky that the carved code on that door was one I knew.”

“If you could add that bracelet in with the other one, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Jeryl said, eyeing the key bracelet and evidently looking at it with mage-sight, adding on, “Certainly seems similar style, as far as the spellwork goes. I would need to do a more detailed examination to say the same person crafted them with complete confidence.”

“Understood,” Anur said, taking the silk packet out of his pocket again and unwrapping a few layers so Nolans could place his bracelet onto it without risking touching the one that had hurt Val so badly.

“And you never made it to the Outer Eighth?” Jeryl prompted.

“No, sir, Val woke up en route and was in bad shape. Chilled, acted badly concussed, got worse as we went, evidently an extreme headache, losing swaths of time to pain and dry-heaving. Talked past each other a bit but he realized the bracelet he was wearing wasn’t his, and I told him I didn’t know what it did but I’d seen bracelets like it kill people for removing it, but he was insistent that it was killing him as it was and it needed to go. I threw it down the hall and he was able to call for Honored Kari before he started seizing. Eight seconds into the seizure Enforcer Bellamy and Honored Kari arrived,” Nolans said, indicating the pair of them. “Honored Kari kept the count while I summarized what I knew to Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy, once the seizure was over we discussed things with Valerik and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy determined the best plan would be for the three of us to return here rather than continue to the Outer Eighth, and hopefully get Val – erik,” Nolans coughed, wincing, “That was very uncomfortable, seems your theory was right, Lieutenant-Enforcer. Get Valerik medical attention, which was what Holiness Laskaris said he was cleared to do, with no tether spells on him personally.”

“Definitely worth checking, considering the likely frame job,” Jeryl murmured, looking deep in thought.

Anur looked over at the approaching Patrolman, stepping back slightly so Jeryl noticed, the priest looking over at his guardsman and prompting, “Patrolman Henkel?”

“Sir, a Holiness Bertrand is the one in charge of the wards, his office would have the diagrams or lists and that office is secured. We tried a staffer’s master-key, which did not work, and it’s a second story office. I sent some of the cleared staff for a ladder.”

“Odds it’s secured with magic?” Anur asked.

“Very good,” Jeryl said grimly, nodding to the Patrolman and saying, “Good on the ladder, but don’t try and open anything, there’s reason to believe this man has no qualms about lethal spellwork.”

“Understood sir,” Henkel said.

“With the amount of effort this man has put into ensuring you remain under his thumb, you’re staying with us until we can get you to Fourth Court,” Jeryl informed Nolans, “I am not losing the chance to get testimony against Vars, much less a potential Oathbreaker.”

:I like this one,: Aelius decided.

:I think I do too,: Anur agreed.

“Yes, Your Holiness,” Nolans said, the sharp-edged smile on his face leaving little doubt that he was of a similar mind.

:Enforcer Bellamy, the bracelet has been successfully removed from Maude Nolans. Ulrich is available to bring the bracelet directly to Justicar Jeryl and report on the process,: Hansa said.

Anur nodded shortly and took advantage of a pause in Jeryl’s orders. Two soldiers were staying here to be his eyes on the dismantling process, it sounded like, potentially one would be securing the office they couldn’t get into, while the remaining two would be accompanying them to Fourth Court. Before he could issue orders to the final Sunsguard, the runner who had brought the men of the Outer Eighth Sector Station here in the first place, Anur spoke up.

“Bracelet’s been removed from Maude Nolans,” he said, steadying Nolans when he swayed in relief, “Hansa can bring Holiness Ulrich here with the bracelet to add to the evidence pool, and Holiness Ulrich can offer testimony on the removal process. Do you want Maude Nolans brought along as well?”

“No,” Jeryl said, “I would rather minimize the number of valuable witnesses standing in a partially dismantled death trap. Holiness Ulrich and Honored Hansa, yes, Maude Nolans I will speak with at Fourth Court at some later time – preferably today. Is there a means for communicating with her promptly going forwards?”

“So long as Jaina stays with her, yes,” Anur agreed.

“Hmm. Non-ideal. I would be much obliged if they could both go to Fourth Court, we will meet them there,” Jeryl said, Anur nodding and passing that along to Hansa, who quickly relayed that group’s agreement and he only just finished telling Jeryl that when Hansa appeared with Ulrich in tow.

The elderly priest’s gaze swept the complex before he focused on them and nodded to Jeryl, saying, “Justicar. I am Ulrich, Black-robe scholar-mage of the First Order.”

:I see they finally figured out the right title for him now that summoner wasn’t appropriate,: Aelius commented dryly, Anur huffing a laugh in spite of himself because that had been quite the debate a few moons ago when the Council had realized that one of their strongest members had no particular title to introduce himself with beyond being a Black-robe. Exorcist was, apparently, not something one could claim.

Ulrich had protested that one the strongest, actually, claiming that it wasn’t appropriate to advertise one’s sacred calling, which had diverted quite a bit of the debate into explaining that going forward the priesthood itself would be considered a sacred calling since no one unwilling would be brought in – needless to say, there had been a lot of fresh points of contention brought up in the course of the argument.

:How exactly does one become a First Order Scholar?: Anur asked, using the diversion to distract himself from the slightly-less-than-debilitating terror being near the exorcist was inducing. Solaris could very well have not even brought up the issue of not going anywhere near his bond with Aelius yet, he had no way of knowing. At least there were more than enough immediate threats and issues they had to deal with to distract the man, it had been moons since they’d first met and he had never shown any sign of being disturbed by whatever sense he had for other people’s souls. Odds were good that Ulrich wouldn’t act against him, particularly not now.

Logic didn’t make it any easier to keep his composure, so he resorted to humorous distractions on top of listening with half an ear as Ulrich explained the removal process he had been called in to assist. It sounded as though Jaina had managed most of it on her own, but had wanted a second set of eyes and hands to ensure safety. He approved of her caution.

:Good question,: Aelius mused, a similar worry and tension definitely evident in his own voice before finally offering, :Win a citation argument with Seras?:

:I think that’s a little too stringent!:

:A race to find the most books off a list of extremely obscure titles?:

:Now that’s just unfairly biased towards the youth,: Anur protested, managing to suppress his grin and stepping forward when Ulrich finished his summary with the explanation that Jaina was remaining with Maude to facilitate the removal of something called groundwork spells, which had transferred over before the bracelet was removed or been on her already.

“I can take that, if you prefer, Justicar,” Anur offered, pulling the silk wrapping out of his pocket again. No less than three bracelets crafted by this man. Figuring out how to free everyone caught in this sort of trap was going to be a nightmare, and Anur was so very glad that the odds were against him and Kir being called in to manage it.

“There’s enough silk to keep them wrapped and separated?” Jeryl asked, accepting his nod and continuing, “Very well, my thanks, Lieutenant-Enforcer. Holiness Ulrich, would you be able to inspect Bertrand’s office for spellwork protections?”

“Certainly,” the man agreed, waiting for Anur to have the remaining silk unfolded over his palm for him to carefully deposit the bracelet he was carrying by a thin chain threaded through it. He wondered why Ulrich had chosen that mechanism rather than silk himself, but supposed there was some reason for it. He was just glad Kir had explained silk was a decent insulator against magic a while back, it gave him options.

That done, Ulrich met his gaze and raised an eyebrow, and before Anur could panic the man inclined his head towards the corner of the complex still filled with flickering sheets of flame and asked, “His Incandescence?”

“Do you want him to set your hair on fire?” Anur replied before he could stop himself, but the priest simply huffed a laugh and corrected himself.

“The Incendiary, my apologies,” Ulrich said, eyes crinkling in amusement. He had heard Anur and Kir bickering more than a few times over the course of the past few moons, after all, and that threat had come up and quickly been asked after. Ulrich even wore his hair long, down to his shoulders, so he was at definite risk to said threat.

“That’s him, it’s – essentially to balance the total suppression he’s enforcing in the storerooms, it’s a very unintuitive use of his abilities,” Anur explained, slipping the wrapped bracelets back in his pocket and leaving his hands there in case they started shaking, “If you’re going to be sticking around, keep an eye on him for me. He’s repunctured his lung.”

“Excuse me what?” the exorcist spluttered.

“I’m not too thrilled either,” Anur grimaced, “But he is also the only reason this complex is still standing, so until the volatiles are reasonably dispersed enough for him to leave, he’s stuck here.”

“I am not telling Solaris,” Ulrich muttered, far too sympathetic for a man capable of destroying his and Aelius’ souls.

“Oh don’t worry,” Anur promised, “I’ve taken care of it.”

:By which you mean I’ve taken care of it,: Aelius said flatly.

:But of course!:

:Potential problem,: Kari inserted, evidently broadcasting by the way Jeryl cut himself off mid-order and turned to the Firecat, :My apologies, Justicar, but we sent Firestarters to each of the charity complexes when this was uncovered, to ensure neither of the others had similar caches under them. They do not, but Holiness Seras is still at the northern complex, where Bertrand is supposed to be in that meeting. I thought to ensure someone currently there would be aware he needed to be delayed.:

“He isn’t there, is he?” Jeryl asked rhetorically, grimacing at Kari’s nod, “Scrying it is, then. Was he there at any point?”

:According to the actual head of this complex, a Father Obric, he was alerted to a breach in the wards halfway there and left to investigate with Obric’s full permission,: Kari relayed.

“Hm. He’ll need to be investigated, and I’ll need testimony from the students involved in this anyway. Patrolman Segil, go to Fourth Court, retrieve one of the Second or Thirds and head to the northern complex to collect testimony from one Etrius, a – you said Rodri, Lieutenant-Enforcer? Yes, him, and a staff member named Sable. Usual underage witness procedures for all three, regardless of actual age.”

“Understood sir,” Segil said, saluting and darting off.

“He crafted the wards here,” Jeryl said, turning to Ulrich and Anur, “I’ll use that as a basis for a basic scrying feasibility working.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Anur muttered, noticing Ulrich simply nod at the declaration so he directed the comment to him.

“One can shield from scrying, and some of the scrying countermeasures can be lethal or at the very least damaging,” Ulrich explained, “One of the first thing someone specialized in scrying learns is to do assorted survey spells that, hopefully, allow one to know if attempting a proper scrying is safe.”

Anur took that in, glanced at Jeryl’s spell-crafting, and grimaced.

There was no chance at all Bertrand hadn’t employed lethal countermeasures.

=pagebreak=

His lung was definitely repunctured.

It was pointless to tell Anur about it though, because Anur already knew and also knew there was nothing to be done about it, as both of them damn well knew after Senior Lieutenant Janner and Healer Joss’ extremely thorough briefing on what exactly a scarred lung meant for him going forward. That repuncturing was likely the worst of it: none of his ribs were out of place, even though they were likely fractured, the bruising was going to be abominable and while he didn’t think he could even manage getting out of his coat without aid, he was not dying.

He was going to spend this entire Conclave downing willowbark tea.

Perhaps next year they could have their Conclave somewhere else? The town Lumira ministered to would likely be willing, or at least not horrified at the idea. Even Aulch might be willing, or – no, never mind, Anika’s township would be a terrible idea, even a year from now.

If the 103rd hadn’t been replaced, they could even use those barracks! Non-ideal, certainly, with the potential for returning refugees to run straight into some of the people who had been most responsible for chasing them out of the country, but it could not possibly – wait. He knew better. He had been giving Anur grief over this curse for days, and would be doing so for the rest of their lives, so he could hardly go making the same mistake. While the 103rd had the potential to be bad, it would be much easier to mitigate, as it was smaller and had hardly anyone there. Sunhame had far too many people, and people in the habit of plotting at that.

People in the habit of plotting against his Firestarters.

His eyes were mostly closed, he didn’t need to see for this and he was surrounded by those almost familiar sheets of shimmering flame besides. Not golden flames alone, though, which was interesting. He wouldn’t have thought finally determining their full song would lessen their likelihood of appearing when he was stressed, but apparently it put them on the same footing as the more ordinary types of fire.

Rather reassuring, actually. He had not enjoyed reacquainting himself with calling on fire he couldn’t properly control, even if by some miracle he’d managed not to harm anyone in the course of it.

A sharp pain on his next inhale, but he had to breathe through it. Breathing steadily, regularly, and not too deep; that was the key to these things. Anything irregular and he could induce involuntary spasms, anything too deep and he could send his puncture into a full collapse, anything less than steady and he would risk losing focus on his fires and he couldn’t.

Quiet, he breathed, half-imagining he could see the men moving in the storeroom by the disturbed buzz of airborne volatiles in their wake and their own internal heat as a beacon. An assembly line was the means of choice, it seemed. Two stairwells of living, breathing heat sources, and two of meat wrapped in the teeth-vibrating hum of potent, tightly bound magic. He focused on those clusters for his next set of breaths, because magic was a volatile and he’d never worked with necromancy before.

But there were no more sparks there than there were by the soldiers. There were more in those zones than there were in the yet-undisturbed reaches, but that was only natural – Be. Still.

Eight sparks, he’d had to let one go for longer than he’d like and that curl of fire and warmth set its own wake into the dust and there were so many breathing bodies down there adding their own motion to the air and he could literally feel the muscles between his shoulderblades twisting against his definitely not-wholly-well vertebrae he had to breathe.

The fires surrounding him breathed with him.

No sparks right now. He had stopped that swarm. Now he had to wait for the rest.

Waiting for an ambush was exhausting, and this was an ambush he couldn’t detect further in advance than he needed to act. It had been a long time since he’d been in this sort of situation, between his sense for flames and the sorts of opponents he ran up against, immediate responses the moment he noticed the faintest of signs hadn’t been necessary.

Rodri was going to utterly hate the training exercises that would be coming out of this situation.

:Drink some water,: Aelius said, voice so much more quiet than usual, so much less strident. Kir appreciated it more than he could possibly say. He had already asked Kari to not speak to him for the rest of this deconstruction, he was focused intently enough a sudden presence in his mind would startle him, and given just what he was focused so very intently on…

No. Not worth the risk. Anur was ever-present, and he could sense Aelius’ mind as a bulwark at his brother’s side. So long as they tempered their mindspeech, he could hear them without jumping.

He managed to do as Aelius suggested, but when he forgot himself and gave his back a slight twist to set the canteen down he damn near dropped it straight on the floor and definitely flared his immediate fires far higher than advisable frosted hells that hurt. His breathing was far too ragged when he eased back to straight, leaning against the wall behind him and then his breath hitched and no.

He had promised Anur that if his lungs got worse, he would leave. His lungs were not worse yet, and he could not mess that up by moving incautiously. There was nowhere near enough dispersal done for it to be safe for him to leave, even if Henrik’s ward was reestablished sometime soon – oh. Oh there was the ward.

Managing to get his breathing back under control, Kir tried to ease his grip on the situation, wanting to see if Henrik’s ward – spark spark flare shhh quiet. Be still.

Helpful. That had been easier to still than previously. But the ward did not seem to do much in the way of preventing sparks from even starting, or at least, what it did do, it did not do enough of. There was certainly no shift in the ward’s strength or structure in response to the sparks, from what he could sense. It was very much what he would consider a dampening ward, rather than a proper suppression ward. Akin to that favored minor curse, making it difficult but not impossible to get fires to light in the target’s vicinity.

He had been meaning to ask Fabron or Lumira if they knew how to build it. It was one of the few pieces of string magic he had memorized, but he couldn’t remember if it was standard knowledge. It should be, aside from the petty vengeance opportunities it opened up it had been useful in his early experimentation phases as a safety measure.

Perhaps that string curse was based on this ward structure?

His throat was parched again; he needed to drink some more water before he started coughing. This time, however, he was not going to move his back from its current, completely upright position.

It was inordinately pleasing to complete that set of motions without aggravating any of his injuries.

:Jaina and Ulrich have removed the bracelet,: Aelius reported, now that they had a moment, :Maude Nolans is unharmed, but something called groundwork spells were transferred over to her before the bracelet could be removed. Jaina says she can facilitate removing those, however they are not immediately dangerous in and of themselves.:

:They wouldn’t be, groundwork spells refers to a class of spellwork that makes it easier to lay further enchantments on, providing a basis for later work,: Kir replied, :The sooner the better for that removal, of course, particularly if we haven’t found Bertrand yet. Or whoever might be behind this.:

:Well at the very least Bertrand needs to be questioned, and therefore found,: Aelius said, cutting himself off when Kir hissed an exhale and extinguished four more sparks with it. That was the longest spark free interval they’d had yet; a hopeful sign. At least a – a quarter? A fair amount of volatiles had moved out but where had they – oh, thank the Sunlord someone had come up with a dispersed storage schema. They might actually manage to render things less than disastrously hazardous before his reserves flagged.

A few more breaths, a spark or two, and he could spare Aelius some attention.

:Bracelet removed?: he prompted.

:Yes, and Hansa will be returning here with Ulrich and the bracelet.:

A sudden chorus of golden fire, bringing a new humming-thrum of a human presence with it.

Ulrich and Hansa, then. At least Grevenor had left, which kept their total count of potentially lost Council members to two, and while Kir couldn’t say he knew Ulrich particularly well, much to his own detriment now that they had realized what a threat the exorcist could pose to Anur, he was more familiar with him than he was any of the other members of Solaris’ Council. The man often teamed up with Seras and Etrius in the archives and as senior-most exorcist worked with Colbern almost as much, and none of those three were what he would consider diplomatic, yet all three spoke rather well of the man.

It was unfortunate that he could no longer give similar weight to the fact that Solaris respected him enough to place him on her Council.

How long had it been?

Three sparks – another two – four that was enough, be still!

Be still. Be still.

The sun-blessed steel arrowheads in his pocket shifted tune against his senses, chiming brightly in a way that made him think of spring, nonsensically enough. He had been so looking forward to exploring that song, those golden flames, with Maltin and Rodri this afternoon. There was no way he would be capable of that sort of focus today. Even tomorrow.

His brief mourning was promptly set aside when Anur’s mind coiled into a furious tangle of desperation and rage and bitterness because of course this would not go smoothly –

:Brother?: he prompted.

That sharp-edged rage softened slightly and Anur replied, :Bertrand is missing from all places he might officially be, and Jeryl’s scrying feasibility spells have ruled that option out as well.:

Kir felt his own rage surge and he gritted his teeth against the instinctive flaring that came with it, because it was a habit of decades and no he could not –

:Easy, easy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said,: Anur said, Kir’s anger subsiding at Anur’s tone and breathing through the headache and flicker-flurry of sparks he had to squash to nothing before they had a chance to properly sing.

:I really hate this,: Kir admitted, voice tight with so very much.

:I hate this too,: Anur replied, :I am literally watching as a man who was finally starting to hope he and his sister might be properly free, he might be able to truly tear down the people who were using him so badly – he’s giving up, Kir. He’s despairing, and I have to watch because I can’t fix this! We’re sitting here with all the evidence we could possibly want to bring the man into custody for questioning, with three, count them three samples of wrongful spell-craft and nothing to show for – wait.:

:Anur?: Kir and Aelius prompted in unison, feeling the distinctive hitch of a sudden thought, a sudden realization.

The flurry of thoughts that answered them was nothing so coherent as words. Flashes of golden fire and of a bone-shaking Voice and blurred sigils and Kir’s own voice, echoing back through the years, “…it’s a call of Judgment, Anur. Those things are best left alone unless you are very certain of your righteousness and willing to stake your own life and soul on it.”

:I am with you, Chosen,: Aelius said at once. Kir sent his own agreement along, and tried to tamp down his nigh-instinctive terror at the idea of Anur conducting this rite – of either of them conducting this rite, to be frank, but particularly of Anur because Anur was his brother. But there were few other options, none of which were what he would consider feasible, and they knew better than most that being ordained had nothing to do with being able to call on the Sunlord for judgment.

:Kir,: Anur said, whatever sympathy he felt for that terror near overwhelmed by sheer determination, :If I denounce Bertrand, would Oathbreaker, Outcast and Nameless be the appropriate set?:

:Yes.: Kir replied immediately, hardly needing to think, :Yes it would.:

:Excellent. In that case, I need a fire somewhat nearby that isn’t fueled solely by your mind.:

:Easily done,: Kir promised, finding a piece of wood near Anur and not too close to anyone else and setting it alight with hardly a thought. Thinning the fire in front of him so he could actually see his brother took a bit more effort, effort he couldn’t truly afford. But his brother looked his way, met his gaze and smiled, so it was worth it. He couldn’t stand beside him for this rite, he couldn’t conduct this rite himself, but he could watch.

His brother was so very brave, and tilted his head towards the sun, voice ringing out like a trumpet.

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgment! I call this one Oathbreaker!”

=pagebreak=

When was the last time one of his plans had worked out to his primary, most favorable outcome? It had to have been over a year ago, obviously, but he rather felt it had been longer.

Oh yes, it was three years ago when Darius had finally demanded a favor for their years of partnership and made that favor keeping Garth Nolans as his second despite the inconveniences of the man’s moral code. Bertrand understood why, watching the man struggle to hold onto some vestige of his original morals and fail to save so very many people yet still never quite give in to despair was a rather fascinating sort of entertainment, but if there was one thing he had learned from his years deliberately spent on the outskirts of Sunhame power plays, it was that entertainment always had to be the first thing sacrificed.

He cursed himself again for letting Darius become so much of an equal in their arrangement. He should have put more effort into keeping the Sunsguard Sergeant in his place, but the man was good at what he did and they’d been working together for nearly ten years, giving him more independent power not only ensured his own influence spread, it meant if things failed he could throw his hands in the air and shove a lot more of his own schemes onto Darius’ shoulders.

It had been a very long time since one of his plans had fallen through quite so spectactularly though.

Not even one casualty, he thought sourly, taking another sip of his beer.

Oh he had known something had gone wrong when he caught sight of a gaggle of familiar children in the market. He hardly ever worked with the children, they wouldn’t know him outside of his robes, but he had stepped aside and weaved his way out of the market and into the Seventh Sector on the first glimpse. There was no reason at all for the children to leave the temple, particularly with Etrius’ visit scheduled for today. The staff loved it when Etrius managed to visit, he always brought some new story or idea to entertain the hellions with so they could manage to get some additional work done without the children underfoot or take a much needed break.

Etrius would never have the thought – or the necessary funding – to take all of the children to the market. Something had happened, and he had survived this for far too long to assume it was something that didn’t involve his plot being spoiled.

So there wouldn’t be any children dead, and no Firestarting students conveniently killed or injured to distract that Order from properly watching their step. Unfortunate, but not insurmountable. Valerik would simply need to be made a dead scapegoat, rather than an alive target for a power struggle disguising itself as an investigation.

That signal had been sent, and for a moment he had thought that perhaps one of his secondary plans had pulled through. Unfortunately, just as he was thinking over how to maximize his timing, he received word from a nervous girl working in her mother’s stead that his cousin Val was missing, and Miles was ill.

He had taken the chance to lay another groundwork series on the girl in guise of shaking her hand and thanking her for carrying the message, and if she actually spent the copper he pressed to her palm he might have a chance to spread some around a bit. Otherwise he would have another layer on her or her mother, which was hardly useless.

It was the only good thing to come of that message. If Darius hadn’t killed the fool for letting Val get away, he would have to ensure an accident happened to the man’s sister-in-law. He would still have the connections to manage that, regardless of how this panned out. His traps were excellent, and he’d been laying groundwork spells on assorted targets of convenience for over a decade. Managing that sort of leverage from outside of Sunhame would be tricky, but he could make it work.

With Valerik flown the coop, there was no reason to think the situation would become more vulnerable rather than less, so he had purchased some roasted nuts and used the moment standing still to eat them to yank a tether to snapping.

When he had heard only a faint boom, rather than a deafening roar, he swore like he’d burned himself, discarded the nuts in the next alley he ducked through, and walked as quickly as he could towards his temple. He could risk at least walking past, get a feel for what sort of damage he had managed to do, and listen to the inevitable rumors from whatever crowd assembled at the first sign of drama.

The rumors were mostly useless, but he was able to gather that no one had been killed, no one even injured, and joined the onlookers in a brief mantra of thanks that all of the children had been out on a holiday market outing rather than somewhere they could have been injured or killed. Gritting his teeth around more curses, he’d found a convenient alehouse and ordered a pint, claiming a spot near an only slightly dirty window to nurse it and see if he could determine just how bad this was going to be.

It had taken seeing the first barrels stacked near the gates by corpses –corpses! What the hell kind of reinforcements were these and how had they managed to be called in? – for him to decide enough was enough, it was time to leave Sunhame. Unfortunate that none of his targets had been properly harmed, but if his allies played their cards right they could at least leverage some of the cards he’d handed them with Valerik’s potential involvement.

None of the Firestarters had even been demoted aside from that female Incendiary of theirs, and within a moon of her so-called demotion it had been made very clear indeed that she held the new Incendiary’s ear and trust in everything that mattered. Unfortunate, from the perspective of wanting to see how a proper no-holds-barred internal schism would impact the Firestarting Order, because it would have certainly been useful. Very fortunate from the perspective of someone listening to disgruntled mutters at how the most visible sign of the priesthood’s corruption was getting off lightly.

But now, there was at least enough evidence of Firestarter involvement in this plot for questions to be asked. There were more than enough ranking priests who would pounce on that chance.

Draining his beer, he headed out the door and hooked the right set of beads over his fingers and started running through them, like a fretful, superstitious fool who couldn’t properly meditate. No need to let any scrying catch him so easily, particularly with necromancers involved. That meant more powerful mages were likely available, and his standard personal spells wouldn’t hold up to a properly directed scrying attempt. Boosting would be necessary, if irksome to keep up constantly until he found a safe place to rest for a few marks, but properly anchoring those spells within the city limits would be foolish in the extreme, especially if any suspicion had fallen on him.

He had a cache of goods and some letters of testimony for a few names and trades. Jaggermeir first, collect some old favors and find a caravan to attach himself too. Perhaps one to Ruvan, he had studied their language – well, that and Hardornen, but everyone had heard the rumors out of that country and only a fool thought blood mages made good allies, even short term. No, Ruvan was the way to go, perhaps further south, if he didn’t find a good base in their southeastern neighbor.

But that all could wait, he decided, eyeing the way the sun was burning off the clouds. Looked like that promised storm would be delayed, which was excellent news. Leaving Sunhame in the middle of a potential snowstorm would be suspicious, but trying to get ahead of said storm in time to visit family for Midwinter, now that he’d managed to sell all his stock at the markets? Perfectly mundane.

Rubbing his chest absently, he felt his lips twitch into something more snarl than smile when sunlight reflected off a nearby window in just the right way to leave him blinking. Shaking his head, he kept heading further out. A good half-mark walk to his cache, then another half-mark to get things settled in his packs and another full mark to get to the gates. Two marks, three at the most, and he’d be well on his way.

Perhaps, if he ended up ahead of schedule, he could let a few of his bracelets activate on his way out. He hadn’t been able to properly exercise those spells more than a few times in all these years, after all, and it had been a very long time.

Shame he’d never tagged Garth Nolans with a long-term set, but the man was far too self-sacrificing for that to have been any punishment. No, he would take his next spare moment to ensure Maude Nolans died screaming. Why be subtle?

He had nothing left to lose.

“…I have so many questions.”

“What are they? We can add them to my list! Also, Auntie Ki, I need more paper.”

“Lukas, pour me a glass of that, would you?”

Chapter Text

Ulrich considered himself an old man, and when he had first realized just who the young woman striding through the archives was all those years ago he had hardly dared hope he would live long enough to see her Ascend. The fact that he had somehow become a part of her Council, that despite the horrible things he had done and turned a blind eye to over the years he was still trusted, still granted that chance to help rebuild their nation and faith, would never not be something he gave daily thanks for.

The other daily thanks was for his latest student, because Karal was a treasure, and his scholarly inclinations gave Ulrich excellent bragging opportunities when Seras started waxing a little too poetic about his own apprentice. It was unfortunate the two boys had never really hit it off, Karal was a little too reliant on the quiet, utterly academic scholar image he projected and Etrius was swerving far more into the utterly unflappable intimidating stare-down school of diplomacy. They at least tolerated one another and exchanged tips on sources and citations, so he was hopeful that could be built upon one of these days. His student needed allies, after all, even if it wasn’t quite so dire as it would have been a few years ago.

Knowing Solaris was coming into power had eased his conscience so very much when he’d finally managed to properly claim the boy he’d had dreams of. With his being a Channel, Karal would have been so very useful to so very many people Ulrich would rather kill the boy than leave him in the company of, and utterly safe from any sort of witch-power based burning. Honestly, without that knowledge, he rather doubted he’d have followed the Sunlord’s will and claimed him, to his shame. Fortunately the Sunlord had seen fit to work around his weakness and grant him the knowledge that his last student would be safe from the power plays he had cut his teeth on, so Karal was properly his.

It was only fair that he throw his all into supporting the regime that meant he could have Karal.

The fact that doing so had made the last years so very fascinating was an excellent bonus, of course. Even better, now that the initial revolution was over he had been able to spend the past year properly discussing things he had been sitting on for years with other archivists and Seras in particular, the man was an excellent mind and there had been more than a few times he had suspected a precedent he wanted was recorded somewhere in those secreted away Hall Archives yet been unable to ask for fear of tipping his hand.

It had been… startling, to realize how terribly surprised the Firestarters were by Solaris’ announcement on the true nature of witch-powers. Startling, and a little shaming. He had honestly feared his friend would be dead when that emergency Conclave ended, because in those few moments he’d glimpsed the Firestarters between the announcement and their doors slamming shut, Seras had looked broken. Broken, and tired, and so very old.

He had cursed himself for a heartless fool more than a few times those days, because he had always respected Seras as a scholar, as a priest, and had almost considered him a friend, but somehow it had never occurred to him that the man would take the news he had spent his entire life burning innocent people alive badly. Would be guilt-stricken. He should have offered him some sort of warning, or encouraged Solaris to make the announcement to the Firestarters first, before making it to everyone during a main service. What they had done had been needlessly cruel.

After that, meeting the new Incendiary – and hearing from Solaris that her second meeting with the man she claimed as successor had included an entirely justified scolding for just that act – had been immensely encouraging, and being able to speak with Seras afterwards and apologize for his own part in it had left him with no doubts as to the rightness of Solaris’ choice in successor. He had feared his friend lost to him forever due to his own carelessness, but thanks to Incandescence Dinesh, he had a chance to rebuild that friendship properly, with no lies between them.

Well, aside from lies on just how many hours he had put into finding a particularly challenging reference, but that sort of boasting was properly harmless.

Meeting his Enforcer, on the other hand, had been an experience, not at all helped by the fact Seras had cheerfully referred to the man as a kindred spirit. He might consider Seras a friend, but that did not change the fact that Seras was a terrifyingly ruthless man who had been known to overstep the bounds of what even the old regime would consider moral. Seras might feel guilty about it, might realize what he had done was wrong, but not until after he had done it in the first place. The only thing that had kept him from true alarm when he’d met the man and sensed the spine-tingling other attached to his soul was the fact he had met Holiness Dinesh first, had heard of some of his actions from Seras and Solaris and even Karchanek, though that had been more complaining about absolutely absurd excuses for badly trained horses than any useful assessment of the pair.

Well, the fact that the man had immediately spluttered over one of the least ridiculous of his titles while the Incendiary practically cried laughing had also helped.

The fact that apparently no one but exorcists, and perhaps not even all the exorcists at that, could sense that otherness, that oddity, had been a surprise. He had thought that there was more overlap in his own senses and those of mages and necromancers in particular, but some carefully worded questions of Colbern had revealed that he sensed nothing unusual, even with his oddly overactive mage-sight. Any chance to investigate had rather been brushed to the wayside these past moons, but just yesterday Solaris had asked some carefully worded questions of her own that revealed even she had been unable to sense any sort of otherness about Enforcer Bellamy’s soul without intense meditation, and even that she hadn’t properly attempted, only guessed that she’d be capable of feeling it if she focused.

Her warning that if he should feel anything similar he was to keep it quiet and set out orders that no exorcists were ever to attempt to cleanse the individual in question from that otherness had raised all sorts of questions. The moment this Midwinter was over and he had some time to spare for his own research, he was going to lock himself away with the few records the exorcists had kept for themselves and see if a close reading gave him any hints.

If he didn’t find anything, he would have to ask the Incendiary and his Enforcer directly on their next visit to Sunhame – or their extended visit in Sunhame, repunctured lungs were no joking matter and a week long ride back to their northern bandit hunting unit wouldn’t be an option for quite some time. Even if Kari brought them there directly, he rather doubted the conditions of a remote Sunsguard barracks were any more conducive to healing rest than Sunhame was. Something to bring up with Solaris so she could raise the issue with the pair after the Firestarter Conclave was concluded.

Of course, with all of this drama happening before the Conclave could even properly begin, he wouldn’t blame the pair if they bolted out of Sunhame the moment the Midwinter’s Day service concluded, to hell with Solaris’ plans for a celebratory dinner with her Council and to hell with injury recovery. If his old bones were any more capable of speedy escapes, he would be tempted himself.

Hells, with the way this tracking discussion was going, they could even run off and claim they were going to try and track this oathbreaking wretch down. The results from Jeryl’s scrying-feasibility check were less than promising, though they certainly justified all of the effort Justicars put into mastering that particular spell – if someone had tried scrying for him directly they would have suffered badly, possibly even been killed. Whoever had made those anti-scrying texts freely available to all mages of the right power level about eighty years ago was definitely someone he wanted to have very specific sorts of words with.

This was the third circle of the same conversation and there were no new ideas. Ulrich managed not to wince when he spotted Maude Nolans’ brother, a definite victim of this man and one very much at risk for retribution after what he and his sister had pulled to try and win their freedom, apparently realize the same thing and practically collapse onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. The Enforcer turned to speak to him; hopefully he had some ideas on how to properly secure the siblings, they needed to be protected with as much liberty retained as possible, anything else would be unacceptable in the extreme.

If they just had some means to find the man!

He watched Enforcer Bellamy turn aside, and he sidestepped a bit to let let the Enforcer pass him, likely on his way to speak to the Incendiary about whatever protective measures they might be able to implement. The only things he could think of that were actually feasible was a complete transplant and severance of their prior identity, which would not exactly be easy to manage, particularly if Bertrand had anything of theirs to anchor a scrying of his own –

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgment! I call this one Oathbreaker!”

He had been a priest of Vkandis Sunlord for well over fifty years, a summoner for nearly as long and an exorcist for longer, with his first rite conducted in the last year of his apprenticeship. He considered himself rather hard to surprise, somewhat hard to impress, and very good indeed at retaining his composure.

He had no idea what his facial expression was just now, but he highly doubted it was anything even close to composed.

Whirling around in time to see the first bracelet hit the fire, he could feel himself choke on air and didn’t feel the bruises he knew were forming on his knees. From more natural orange-yellow to a deep red, the pulse of summer-dry heat rushed over him and left an utter, complete silence in its wake. Perhaps it wasn’t quiet, Sunhame was never truly quiet, but no other sounds mattered when compared to that voice, those words.

“I call this one Outcast!” rang out like a thousand bells, fire stretching and flaring into an elaborate and entirely unnatural spiral consuming the second bracelet –

“I call this one Nameless!”

The third bracelet was cast, and fire roared.

He should prostrate himself, he should, but he couldn’t bear the thought of looking away, feeling tears trace their way down his face because this was something the Firestarters had lost, this was something they had all lost, and it was found.

Golden fire turned to nothing but light, curling around the Enforcer and mantling his shoulders, not so much disappearing as absorbing and he could no longer stare when the Light’s Shadow turned to them with eyes blazing gold.

“We confirm these calls,” a voice like summer noon and rolling thunder and light lancing across the sky filled every corner of the air and left no room for anything else, “Judgment has been made. Mortal justice remains. Honored Hansa, attend Us.”

Honored Hansa rose from his own prostration and followed in Bel – in the Voice’s wake, pace somehow unhurried yet faster than Ulrich felt it could possibly be and utterly implacable.

He could hear sounds of Sunhame again, but only just in time to hear silence spread as the Voice exited the gate to Seventh, power blazing in Their eyes. Ulrich could hear his own breathing now, though, echoing in his ears and so very harsh, but he couldn’t gather his thoughts yet, he was still too – too stunned, at what he had just seen. At the implications of what he had just seen.

“Do we… follow them?” the Justicar’s Corporal asked, looking like he very much regretted the fact he felt obligated to ask.

“I don’t know that it would be useful,” Holiness Laskaris said, rising to his feet, “With Honored Hansa’s abilities, there is no guarantee we could follow on foot.”

“An excellent point,” Justicar Jeryl admitted, everyone else also carefully standing, Ulrich accepting Garth Nolans’ offer of assistance regaining his own feet. The Justicar looked at his soldiers and was visibly trying to focus, before finally saying, “The office, I think. If there is no word after I take a look at that, we’ll take the two staff and one priest I need to speak with further to Fourth Court. Holiness Ulrich, if you would not mind accompanying us, my understanding of the Firecat’s Jumping is that they need someone they are familiar with to serve as an anchor for arrival?”

“That is my understanding as well,” Ulrich agreed, “I will gladly remain.”

As if he would want to leave!

=pagebreak=

The Fourth Court’s runner hadn’t known if word had been sent to the Seventh Sector Station, and it really would only be courteous to let his fellow Captain know the temple complex straddling their districts was having problems, so Caleb had taken the excuse. After assigning two squads to Fourth Court’s errand and confirming that none of the Outer Eighth Shift Leaders had sent word they wouldn’t make this afternoon’s meeting, he had little to do, particularly now that he was only on the bare periphery of whatever the hell Val had stumbled into. Might as well take the chance to get out of the office and enjoy the sunshine before any winter storms rolled in.

The fact that he had looked down from issuing orders to Shift Leader Bron and found his hands in the middle of making a noose out of spare hobbles had more than a little to do with that decision.

He hadn’t lied when he told Holiness Dinesh that there was no true compulsion to follow through on the plans he found himself dwelling on far too often, but just because he could stop once he was aware of what he was doing didn’t mean he always was aware.

He winced when a cold breeze whipped down the back of his coat. At least nooses weren’t immediately lethal in and of themselves; a few days after Holiness Dinesh and the soldiers that rode with him had departed, he had nearly slit his own throat in a meeting with Captain Lenka. It was fortunate the Captain and he had been alone at the time, after the weeks of terror their unit had suffered, seeing the only surviving victim succumb after they thought they were safe would have shattered them. As it was, they had spent a few days in near-panic themselves, but no one else had shown signs and they had decided it was likely just a consequence of the witch-power assault he’d suffered.

Talent, he reminded himself, returning the salutes two Patrolmen offered him but not pausing to speak. They weren’t flagging him down, and he needed to run this errand quickly enough to get back to the station in time for his afternoon meeting; finding a consistent time for his Shift Leads to meet had been annoying enough, having to reschedule it this week since Midwinter’s Vigil fell on the usual day had been a nightmare to manage.

What Nacht had used was a Talent, not a witch-power. Nacht had lost his mind. Nacht had been insane and he had been suffering. He did not deserve his hatred.

But some days remembering that was so very hard.

He had a chance now, though. He had hope that there might actually be some end in sight, which was honestly more than he had dared hope for when they heard about Her Eminence’s Ascent and he realized that what he had thought was unquestioning evil was in fact nothing to be condemned at all.

He was a soldier, he had been on the career path of a bandit-hunter before his self-preservation had been so badly compromised, he knew very well the difference between having dangerous skills and being morally wrong. Applying that knowledge to strange powers he truly didn’t understand was hard, though, and it had honestly taken Holiness Dinesh’s clear horror at what he was suffering, Enforcer Bellamy’s matter of fact declaration that what had been done to him was wrong, for that knowledge to properly register. Their immediate offers to help, however they could, had been immensely relieving and more than he had hoped for in themselves. When Honored Kari arrived and said that he could help, and could help immediately…

Marghi had known where any extra pay would be going this season, and that was straight to Temple donations and incense for his own shrine.

“Caleb!” he heard, and managed to keep his annoyance at the informality from his face when he turned in the man’s direction. Captain Nachten, whose name’s close resemblance to Nacht’s did him absolutely no favors, preferred to eschew all titles amongst those of equal rank, and as the man’s other flanking captain was Outer Sixth’s ridiculously prissy Captain Ikren, Marghi was the only one the man could exercise that preference with.

He found it unprofessional when they were on duty, much less when they were both on duty and in public, but the man was good at his job and it was a relatively harmless quirk, so he didn’t consider it worth arguing about. The fact that indulging the man made it more likely Nachten would answer questions and serve as a sounding board when he needed a colleague to talk to simply made it an annoyance more than worth putting up with. By this time next year, he might even be able to say it was no longer annoying.

The other captain had evidently been on his regular rounds, it didn’t look as if he had been making any arrests or the like himself. Exchanging salutes with the Corporal and two Patrolmen whom Nachten had been speaking with, he focused on his fellow Captain and said mildly, “Trevar. Was looking for you.”

“Figured it was something like that,” the man said agreeably, continuing on in the direction of the station, “This an office only conversation?”

“Not particularly, I don’t have much information myself,” Marghi replied, having already decided the best way to play things was to admit only to the information he had heard through formal, non-Firecat channels. “Runner from Fourth Court came in, requested two squads to the charity complex. Didn’t sound like anyone had been requested from you.”

“I’ve been on rounds the past mark, I wouldn’t know,” Nachten said, frowning, “But my second can authorize that and would have sent someone after me, I have a fairly standard route. Doubt anyone was requested from us. It was your turn, anyway.”

“I highly doubt Fourth Court keeps rigorous track of which of the two of us it calls on for Sector spanning cases,” he said dryly, hearing the bells start to ring noon.

Trevar grinned at the sound, and asked, “Lunch? There’s an excellent food stall one road in, you should have more than enough time to get back for your Shift Lead meeting.”

He’d have to get lunch before his meeting regardless, and having another person around to engage with socially would keep his mind from wandering to potentially lethal places, so he nodded and said, “Might as well.”

Following Trevar and listening to the man’s chatter about some of the more entertaining cases to come through his door recently, he spent an admittedly inordinate amount of time wondering how he could possibly justify reading Trevar in on Val and Jana’s proper names. He couldn’t, there was no reason to at all, but he desperately wanted someone to know why the Val and Jana stories the men of the Outer Eighth traded were so very much more hilariously incongruous than they were already.

Hmm. It had sounded like Holiness Dinesh and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy only recently found out about the whole Val and Jana subsidiary identities thing themselves, perhaps he could tell them the stories. Even better, if he told them the stories he had better odds of one day finding out the full story behind some of the more outlandish ones, because that kidnapping forced-labor piracy case that Val and his sister were credited with helping crack open promised to have so many more angles than the bare bones summary he had gotten from his Shift Leads, and that version had been entertaining enough in its own right.

He would ask Honored Kari if they had any interest in that offer.

Trevar’s story cut off and they both turned, hearing the same commotion. A man running worry-beads through his fingers was walking at speed, while an evident collision from people getting out of his way or being shoved out of his way had been the commotion to draw their attention. Trevar sighed heavily, reaching out as the man passed and saying, “Sir, you should at the very least apologize – “

City guard didn’t carry knives. He hadn’t carried knives for years before his transfer.

But the utter fury in the man’s eyes made him wish for them.

“Down!” he shouted, hooking an arm around Trevar’s waist and practically throwing them both to the ground but that was a Levin-bolt that had flown over their heads, he had only ever seen one once before and it didn’t matter that he and Trevar were scrambling to their feet the man was already about to send another one flying –

“We think not!” a Voice rang, the second Levin-bolt freezing midair and vanishing to nothing, a blur of cream-and-crimson fur slamming into the back of the man’s knees with a furious yowl, the mage collapsing with a strangled cry.

Marghi found himself hard pressed not to echo that sound, stumbling back a few steps on seeing just Who had intervened beyond the Cat, dropping to his knees before he even realized that he knew the face those golden eyes were blazing out from.

“Let it be known that the man once called Bertrand, formerly a priest of the Sunlord, has been declared Oathbreaker!” the Voice declared, voice carrying impossibly far, sounding so very terrifying and comforting all at the same time and so very unlike any voice that should be emerging from Enforcer Bellamy’s throat.

“That he is now Nameless and Shunned,” the Voice continued, Caleb hardly daring to breathe as that figure and passed close by, the Cat stepping aside so They could wrench the condemned man up to his knees by his collar, talking over the Nameless one’s faint whispers of denial as if they were entirely unspoken, “That the Sunlord has turned his face from him, that he will reside forever in the darkness!”

The Cat had clawed the man’s legs, Marghi could see blood starting to drip onto the cobblestones, but the Voice looked down on the bleeding man with an inhuman fury and continued implacably, “For breaking your Oaths, We strip you of your priesthood.”

The man gasped, going white and flinching as if he had been struck, though no physical blow had landed. The one once called Bertrand tried to shudder away from the next declaration, but the Voice’s grip on his collar only tightened, “For violating the sacred trust between priest and parishioner, We strip you of your Name.”

Another blow had been struck, in no way Marghi could see, but there was still one final strike, the Voice giving a terrifying smile as They spoke.

“For daring to target souls entrusted to you, We strip you of your Talents.”

A hair-raising shriek cut off abruptly, the man’s horror-filled expression switching to flat and empty, the weighty presence fading away and the Enforcer’s white knuckled grip on the man’s collar eased. There was nothing of mercy in the gesture though, Bellamy’s other hand yanking his head back by the hair and a now utterly human rage in his eyes as he examined the Oathbreaker’s nearly slack features.

“Surprised you’re not dead,” he said, voice low, “But I suppose that would risk your coconspirators escaping, and that would be a true shame.”

When Bellamy released the man’s hair, the Oathbreaker’s head slumped forward – not quite the total limpness of unconsciousness, but damn close. Bellamy entirely ignored him, gaze sweeping the street instead and the Enforcer visibly hesitated before raising his voice again, saying to the kneeling crowd, “Rise, please. We are simply doing our duty.”

Marghi slowly levered himself to his feet and was rather proud of himself for not flinching when the Lieutenant-Enforcer looked at him, eyes still flecked with gold, and asked, “Captain, do you have a set of hobbles I could borrow?”

“Ah – yes,” he said, quickly unhooking said hobbles from his belt and passing them over so Bellamy could tie the Nameless One’s arms behind his back in a position he had been trained to use in the banditry units, and then informed the City Guard only used it on particularly violent offenders due to the excessive strain it could put on the captive’s joints.

Somehow, he doubted that Bellamy would have used any other method even if he had known them. He stepped forward and helped the Enforcer lever the man to his feet, worried that the Oathbreaker’s catatonic state would make hauling him around difficult for one man to manage, but to his surprise, once standing the man swayed a bit but didn’t collapse.

“Good to see you again, mostly because it confirms we’re definitely still in Sunhame,” Bellamy commented, a wry smile on his face that was horrifyingly unnerving because his eyes were still swirled with gold yet here he was, inviting Caleb to share in some sort of joke.

“That was – in doubt?” he managed, glancing down at the Firecat just long enough to confirm that this was not Honored Kari, this was in fact the second Firecat he had seen today.

His morning had started so normally.

“Last time Kir and I did this, we had our horses nearby, ended up riding for… two days straight, I think? Full gallop the whole time, day and night,” Bellamy said, huffing a laugh, “Lucky we caught up to that one in a town, we’d have been wandering to try and find out where the heck we were otherwise. This is Outer Eighth, then?”

“No, Outer Seventh,” Marghi corrected, knowing his voice sounded a little strangled but who could blame him because the Enforcer had done this before? “I came here to make sure my colleague knew the charity ward was having an investigation, in case there was any sort of overflow.”

“How convenient,” Bellamy mused – was this still just Bellamy? Were those faint traces of gold just lingering after effects of the Voice or was the Voice still there?

Gold-flecked hazel flicked towards Trevar and Marghi hastily turned so he could offer proper introductions, saying, “Lieutenant Anur Bellamy, Enforcer for His Holiness Kir Dinesh, my colleague, Captain Trevar Nachten of the Outer Seventh Sector Station.”

“Pleasure, Captain,” Bellamy said, inclining his head and talking right past the awkward silence that Caleb knew he and Trevar were both using to panic about who exactly was supposed to salute first, if anyone, because an Enforcer could act as an extension of their priest and if that was the case he of course wouldn’t salute first if at all but how could they tell and besides even that the Enforcer’s eyes still had gold. “As you have undoubtedly realized, the charity temple situation is complicated. The Oathbreaker has been confirmed to have used magic against civilians to bind them to his will along with more mundane extortion and threats, so you will undoubtedly be hearing from Justicar Jeryl of…”

The Enforcer trailed off, gaze going distant and the golden flecks gleaming and spreading across the entirety of his irises but before Caleb could properly register that and go to his knees Trevar was grabbing his arm and – temporarily covered in a wash of golden light that pulsed once before vanishing?

“Kir just say thank you, Ari’s sake, you are definitely still under strain even if your lung isn’t punctured anymore,” the Enforcer muttered under his breath, definitely not speaking to either of them even as his now entirely gold-free gaze swept past them to the heavens so he could say a quick and mostly unintelligible prayer of thanks.

“What was that?” Caleb asked warily, Trevar practically wheezing next to him, not that he could blame the man, and at least two of the bystanders from the collision that had drawn their attention in the first place had been encased in a similar flare of gold.

“That was my brother asking for help,” Bellamy murmured, a fond smile Caleb didn’t understand at all on his face before it vanished to something more professional, the man speaking more clearly now – and definitely deliberately projecting so the bystanders could also hear him.

“The Oathbreaker, as I said, is confirmed to have used magic to bind others to his will, along with using malicious spell craft to further his own ends in other ways. What you just experienced, Captain Nachten, was a removal of the groundwork spells he had laid upon you. Groundwork spells are – they do nothing to you, in and of themselves. They make it easier for later spells to catch hold.”

“How long had I had that on me?” Trevar asked, voice shaky but at least he was breathing normally again.

“With only one pulse? I suspect it was very recent, even perhaps in the last few moments of his freedom,” the Enforcer said, exchanging a long glance with Honored Hansa, “The more spells that were anchored, the more of those pulses of light, I suppose?”

:Groundwork spells can be layered, and often have a self-propagating nature to build additional layers as time goes on,: Honored Hansa broadcast, Caleb managing not to flinch too dramatically; Trevar more than made up for him, :So multiple pulses may indicate multiple groundwork layers from one original spell, rather than multiple spells.:

“The victim might have reason to know or suspect what spells were cast on them, or might be utterly unknowing they were even under some form of spellcraft,” Bellamy added, giving Trevar a sympathetic glance that Caleb rather doubted his fellow Captain was coherent enough to appreciate.

“As I was starting to say before – people will likely come forward now, when they couldn’t before. If you could both keep an ear out for any cases or reports regarding the one once called Bertrand, former priest and formerly second in command of the southern charity complex, send those along to Justicar Jeryl, First Order at Fourth Court. He’ll undoubtedly send formal instructions to that effect later, but as a heads up. Do you two need anything else from myself or Honored Hansa before we get this one back to the Justicar for questioning?”

Caleb exchanged a quick glance with Trevar, rather unsurprised to see his colleague was still completely speechless, and shook his own head, saying, “No, Lieutenant-Enforcer. And – regarding that later meeting, that can be shifted to whenever is convenient for Honored Kari.”

The Enforcer’s eyes narrowed before he started searching through his own pockets with his free hand, his other hand still holding the Nameless One’s arm. “Ha! Knew I still had a few,” Enforcer Bellamy muttered, pulling some small piece of metal out of a pocket and offering it to him.

Marghi couldn’t refuse, but he definitely stared at the dulled arrowhead gleaming in his palm with no little confusion. He had been in the Sunsguard for years, seen all sorts of weapons-grade metal, and he’d never seen metal with this sort of sheen.

“Realized after we spoke last that this might help. Hopefully, Kari can still meet with you, but in case he can’t for some reason – because you’re right, this might end up being an all day affair – that arrowhead might help. It’s sun-blessed steel.”

It was a good thing the arrowhead was dull, he would have cut his hand to ribbons when he clenched his fist around the metal, feeling his breath hitch and eyes widen in utter disbelief because – because what?

“We don’t – really know much about what Sun-blessed steel is capable of,” Bellamy admitted, voice rueful with an unspoken story, “But it can’t hurt, in this case. Though do me a favor, if you hear any sort of tune coming from it, don’t hum along. Regardless of how this day pans out, you will hear from Kari this evening.”

It was his turn to lose his voice, throat thick with gratitude and wonder and the knowledge that if he spoke he’d be demanding with increasing hysteria what the fuck was happening and this man had manifested the Voice and there was a Firecat he couldn’t be that undignified right now - !

“Thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer, Honored Firecat,” Trevar spoke up, voice a little strangled but at least he had found it, “Good luck with your investigation.”

“Our thanks, Captains,” Bellamy said, either not noticing or not commenting on their joint twitch at the plural pronoun, instead stepping back with the Nameless One in tow and saying, “Honored Hansa?”

The Cat nodded and settled into a seat at Bellamy’s feet, tail curling around his paws before golden-orange fire whirled around them all and left nothing but an echoing silence in their wake.

“Caleb, for the love of all that is holy please tell me you have a flask in that coat,” Trevar said.

He handed the man his flask.

“So being a mage counts as being Talented, interesting…”

“Devin, your eye for detail astounds me, it really does.”

“I’m just sad we didn’t hear about Sun-blessed steel when Uncle Kir was visiting, I really want to see a piece.”

“…I have some.”

“And you never said?!”

Chapter Text

When Anur had spoken of his experience of the Hunting Rite they’d called down on the one once called Eshkal, Kir had been intrigued by the deliberate invitation Anur had been issued to join in the Hunt, and had honestly assumed that the invitation and Anur’s acceptance of said invitation was the reason behind the joint Voice manifestation. The fact that Aelius had been caught up in the manifestation’s wake had also made sense, especially now that he had independent confirmation that the Herald-Companion bond was anchored in the pair’s souls.

The fact that he could feel the Voice’s presence against his mind where his brother should have been, where his brother still was, was terrifying and gave an entirely new reason for why a joint manifestation might be worth hoping for. Aelius’ presence was threaded with the same, the Companion was not speaking, and he could only hope that whatever was happening on Aelius’ end was either blatantly Sunlord-adjacent or subtle enough no one would notice something was going on.

He could feel some of what was happening, echoes of the utter clarity of purpose and focus and intent, and it was all he could do to not try and build shields between his brother’s mind and his own when he couldn’t, he hadn’t even been able to try to separate their minds when Anur had finally taught him the proper technique for mental shielding and he had been reasonably well-rested by the time that had come about, if he were to try such a thing now –

It would be pointless anyway. You couldn’t shield yourself from the Voice.

Kari carefully stretched out across his legs and Kir buried his fingers in the Cat’s fur, because even keeping his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists hadn’t been enough to hide their shaking, and the people here were nervous enough. They could likely only catch occasional glimpses of him, between their own focus being necessarily elsewhere and his use of irregular curtains of fire to try and bleed off some of the stress of the situation, but if one of them glanced this way and found the current anchor to the safety of this operation so obviously stressed –

Well. Anur had borrowed enough trouble for them already. No need to borrow any more.

His brother wasn’t there this was awful.

A set of sparks almost caught him off guard, but he managed to breathe through the rush of panic and worry and stars he just wanted to burn something but not now and it was quiet. It was so, very quiet. His brother was missing.

He still couldn’t hear anything, but he could feel Kari’s whole body vibrating with his purrs, which was almost as soothing. His brother was not missing, his brother was fine. Anur was fine.

His vision flickered and he briefly saw a man with webs and nets and cruelty practically dripping from him, and he knew that the one he was seeing was once named Bertrand.

The one once called Bertrand had been caught, he knew at once. Would be brought low and not allowed to escape. He would answer for his crimes. But with a moment to think, with sparks currently absent, his own flames a quiet rumble, the Voice’s presence focused like a lance of light on someone not him, he could realize the problem.

One of the bracelets Anur had burned had been unsafe to remove by normal means. That sort of spellwork would be unchanged by a declaration of Namelessness, but how many knew that? How many once-victims might hear of the Nameless One’s arrest, of his sentencing, and think themselves safe? Might think those traps disabled and harmless?

The number, he suspected, was non-zero.

The idea of the Oathbreaking wretch bringing even one more innocent down with him was unbearable, was so utterly wrong, but what could he do? The man had clearly been skilled at warding, warding against mage-sight was tedious but not hard, and he had been doing this for years, if not decades. They would not be able to find everyone he had trapped under his webs, certainly not before a tragedy occurred.

The Voice was right there.

One of these days, he would have to sit down and write Father Gerichen a letter. He wouldn’t be able to properly explain, not until after Midsummer, but he certainly owed that man thanks. For now, though, he breathed, gave himself one moment to determinedly squash out as many potentials for sparks as possible, to acknowledge his terror as something he could not let guide his actions, and asked.

Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, innocents have been caught in a trap I cannot free them all from. I cannot even begin to imagine how we mortals could free all of them. Please.

=pagebreak=

Technically speaking, removing Maude Nolans’ bracelet was straightforward. All it had actually taken was a gradual insulation process to break enough of the spell-hooks anchoring it to the groundwork spells that had either been the first things to transfer over from the bracelet or had been in place before the bracelet. Carefully wrapping Maude’s wrist in layers of silk, keeping the silk between her skin and the bracelet, had done the trick – the difficulty had lain in ensuring Jaina didn’t touch the bracelet with her own skin, and that the layering actually happened instead of wrinkling or slipping out of place, and that had been what she called for extra help for. It was really for extra hands.

Having an extra set of mage-trained eyes on the problem to make sure she wasn’t making any critical mistakes or missing anything in her interpretation was a bonus she had no reason to avoid asking for, and there were more than enough decent mages in Sunhame for her request to be reasonable. The fact that Holiness Ulrich was familiar enough with Honored Hansa to have been briefed on the basic situation already and be brought here directly without being distracted by a Firecat’s presence made him the perfect candidate, so far as she was concerned.

The lack of technical skills necessary aside, she was still taking a few moments to breathe after the bracelet’s removal and enjoy the tea they’d purchased as a justification for taking over this room.

“I will deal with the groundwork spells, Mistress Nolans, I simply need a moment,” Jaina said, sitting back in her chair and bringing her teacup with her. This merchant house sold some truly fantastic blends for reasonable prices, which was the only reason she’d been here often enough to find out that they also rented out small rooms for groups to drink some of said teas, served in dishes made a few doors down and with pastries made by a decent enough Inner Eighth baker.

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Maude said, the Outer Eighth baker doing much the same, though she stayed close enough to the small table to take a few bites of her pastry of choice.

“I like your pastries better,” Jaina admitted, forgetting herself for a moment, “But their teas are fantastic… Mistress Nolans.”

The baker took a sip of her own tea before giving a shaky sigh and saying quietly, “You can call me Maude, Your Holiness.”

“And you can call me Jana,” she replied, hesitating before having to laugh, shaking her head, “As many times as we’ve complained about our mutual idiot brothers, I rather think we can forget formality, at least when I’m not in uniform? Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

“If anything I’ll get too comfortable and entirely forget you’re a priestess,” Maude admitted, smiling wryly, “I had plenty of theories about the things we never talked about, but priestess was never one of them. You had a family.”

“The Kin of Vkandis mantra isn’t usually taken so literally, true,” Jaina agreed, remembering her first few years as Incendiary with a grimace, “Even Kin of Ari was less than literal, until relatively recent years.”

“Kin of Ari?” Maude repeated, sounding puzzled, and Jaina realized that phrasing was likely unknown in the laity. The story of Ari was very rarely told outside their Order, nowadays.

“A formal phrase for the Firestarters, Ari was our founder,” Jaina explained, breaking off a piece of her scone, “Maude, I plan to continue wandering Sunhame as Jana for – well, for as long as I can. Certainly for as long as Valerik does. I would consider it an immense favor if you would continue calling me Jana and treating me no differently.”

“I owe you my life and more,” Maude told her, sounding bemused, “There is no favor to be owed, Jana. I will tell Garth much the same, though I suspect he will be on the same page as me.”

“Likely,” Jaina agreed, drinking the last of her tea and sighing slightly. She would definitely be buying a packet of that blend for herself this season.

“Right,” she said briskly, setting her cup aside, “Groundwork spells, as I said, make it easier for other spells to be laid down on top of them – the bracelet’s spells latched onto you very easily, because they had those groundwork spells to serve as either a bridge or an anchor, I have no way of knowing whether or not these groundwork spells were on you from the beginning or if they simply transferred over from the bracelet first.”

“I’d guess long term,” Maude admitted quietly, “My brother – he’s been extorted before, with my life as leverage.”

“I wish I’d known,” Jaina replied, feeling utterly furious with herself for little reason, but if she had just once looked at Maude with mage-sight, she might have caught something sooner, might have seen these groundwork spells and been able to remove them. Been able to track down the person who put them on her and end them, because there were no innocent reasons to lay those spells on a lay-person.

“I would have had to have been exceptionally careless, and that I can’t wish for, but I do wish you’d somehow known earlier too,” Maude said, smiling wryly, “A Firestarter would have actually been able to do something.”

“Depending on his political allies, it would have had to be delayed and quiet, but I would have ensured he died, at the very least,” Jaina said, grimacing, “As complicated as this net sounds, we’d have been better served by an investigation, but that might not have happened. At least now it can happen, and we can get names from him.”

“If he’s caught,” Maude pointed out, hesitating before asking, “Will it take long, to get these spells off?”

“A mark, at most,” Jaina assured her, pulling her chair over so they were facing one another and clasping Maude’s hands in her own, “I have quite a bit of practice with these.”

She had also raised shields in this room to block external spells from reaching them without her consent, and had yet to take them down, but better to remove the groundwork spells quickly. Besides, they had to head to Fourth Court, and the sooner the better; having the neighboring merchant’s daughter manning Maude’s booth would work, but it’d be better if Maude was there in person, especially to break things down at the end of the market.

Eyes mostly closing, she bowed her head and focused on the misty layers wrapping themselves around Maude’s mage-sight visible form, obscuring her own natural networks and providing so many little gaps and corners and anchor points in their weavings for spells of all sorts.

These spells were hard to see, hard to detect, especially if the person they were cast on was a mage and had any sort of spellwork of their own in place. In that respect, the Oathbreaker’s likely use of these spells on primarily lay-people would be useful, because she wouldn’t have to spend too much time explaining how to spot the spells to others capable of mage-sight before turning them lose to survey as much of the populace as possible.

She highly doubted they’d find them all. Not before something awful happened, and that was just with the man’s groundwork spells strewn about like seeds for any of his allies to take advantage of. The Oathbreaker had undoubtedly bound so very many wrists with bracelets himself, and if even one person heard about his arrest and thought that meant the bracelets were safe to remove without precautions…

She could save Maude. She would save Maude. She would save as many people as she possibly could, and she would hate herself for every person she didn’t reach in time. Sunlord, let that number be few.

Carefully exhaling, she sent out her own magic as if it were, of course, fire, devouring the first layer of the spell net, and then running it over the same layer again to ensure no faint threads or quietly reinforced patches were left behind to spread again. Pause, let things settle, watch the weave for any shifting, for any signs of recovery – ah, there was a patch. Definitely something that had been long term, for the layers to be this resilient individually. Perhaps another two washes of fire before she could go to the next layer.

She suspected this was a four layer weaving. This was probably going to take that full mark.

She gasped, hearing Maude echo her, sparks of golden fire appearing at her fingertips and suddenly a swarm of sparks formed, spiraling up Maude’s arms and becoming one rippling wave of golden light-and-warmth-and-cleansing from head to toe that pulsed once-twice-thrice and faded to nothing, faded to sunlight, streaming through the window.

Maude’s hands in hers were shaking, and every trace of those groundwork spells was gone.

“I heard – I heard a voice,” Maude said, voice trembling, “Are the spells – are they gone?”

“They are,” Jaina confirmed, letting her hold on her own mage-sight fade and hearing her own voice shake even on just those two words.

“He can never hurt me again,” Maude said, voice filled with a wonder that was heartbreaking to hear, “He can never hurt anyone again.”

“This happened to others, then? Not just your spells were removed?” Jaina asked, needing to hear it even if she felt she already knew the answer, because Maude would have been freed, would have been safe. There was no true need for a miraculous dismantling of the groundwork spells that Jaina was in the middle of removing. But if the same sort of thing had happened to every person the Oathbreaker had caught in his web?

That had been very much needed.

“Yes,” Maude said firmly, “Every one of his victims is free.”

Squeezing Maude’s hands briefly, she let her go and sat back in her chair, unashamed of the near giddy smile she could feel on her face, saying, “That is excellent news. I need to take down the wards I raised here, then we can go to Fourth Court.”

“He isn’t dead yet, either,” Maude said, smile more than a little vicious and Jaina didn’t blame her at all, voice taking on a singsong quality as she quoted, “Judgment has been rendered, but mortal justice remains.”

“Even better.”

=pagebreak=

A new priority this season was definitely teaching the other Firestarters how to manage the Hunting Rite on their own, because Anur never wanted to do this again. Last time had been strange, had felt bizarre, and they had spent an entire day recovering from their day and night and another day spent in pursuit. This had been far less strenuous in that regard, he seemed to have missed the noon bells tolling but no additional bells had been rung, so at most he’d spent a half-mark as a half-aware observer in his own skin. That hadn’t been the problem.

No, the problem had been when he came back to himself and the Voice didn’t leave. Kir was gone and the Voice had taken his brother’s place. The only reason he was able to speak to the crowd, to explain to the Captains, was because Aelius had very deliberately heightened his presence against Anur’s mind, taking care to partially insulate him from what was happening to Kir. The fact that Aelius had been able to do that without Kir protesting or wondering what was wrong had been entirely alarming in its own right, and they were never doing this Rite again. Especially not if one of them was stuck where they were for some reason, and unable to be invited along.

:I entirely agree,: Kir said, Hansa’s Jump-borne flames fading slower than usual, but they finally cleared up enough he could properly see the still-bustling blasted-out courtyard he had left.

His brother’s mind-voice had, for the most part, given everything away. But seeing Kir standing in full Sunhame-standard vestments, barring a missing Sun in Glory emblem, practically encased in flickers of fire, and listing distinctly to one side made his exhaustion far more immediately concerning than mere tone of voice could manage. When he had a bit longer to process, the not-quite hovering Sunsguard would be a lot more hilarious, he could practically see their thought processes – Sunpriest, just manifested the Voice, obviously favored, about to fall over, but fire – but for the moment he bypassed all of that and shoved the Oathbreaker towards the pair. Same pair the Justicar’s Lieutenant had sent to help them get Kir and the others out of the storeroom, actually. Convenient.

“Oathbreaker,” he said rather needlessly, not waiting to watch them secure the man; Nameless Eight wasn’t exactly capable of resisting any longer, and Hansa was settling at those guardsmen’s feet beside. Rather, Anur went straight to Kir’s side, frowning when Kir leaned heavily against his shoulder the moment he could, flickers of fire enveloping both of them and Kari alike.

“Easy,” he murmured, examining Kir more carefully, “Thought you said your lung was healed?”

“It was,” Kir replied lowly, huffing a tired laugh, “I think all my traumatic injuries were. Still tired, still sore, and the mental strain hasn’t eased at all, but breathing isn’t painful, and I shrugged without regretting everything so my back is likely fine too.”

“Your back,” Anur said flatly.

“Cracks at most,” Kir murmured, next exhale shaky, one hand going to his head, “Sorry. Spark flurry. There was a long gap with nothing though. Might be getting close to being able to leave.”

“And are you actually going to?” Anur asked pointedly, “Kir, you said you could manage for a mark at most, and it has definitely been well over half a mark since you gave that estimate. If you need to leave…”

“They’re halfway through dismantling,” Kir said lowly, “I can give them a bit longer, though not double time.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Anur promised, adding, :Hear that, you two? Kir is not staying for much longer, kindly hold him to that.:

:Of course, Anur,: Kari said, the Cat sounding rather tired himself, but for the moment more amused than exhausted.

:I can do that,: Aelius agreed, sounding distracted, but quickly coming back to them and continuing, :I think my part of that manifestation went unnoticed, no one is eyeing me any more oddly than usual.:

:…not precisely reassuring, witch-horse,: Kir said, tone distinctly wary and Anur couldn’t blame him at all. Oh certainly, they had heard Aelius referencing the way the stablehands were tiptoeing around him and Riva, and had even just yesterday been laughing about the possibility of Aelius receiving a stud-fee offer. But for Aelius to consider odd glances and sidelong looks normal?

:Oh will you two stop fussing, I know exactly what I am doing. If we were here longer term and more frequently there could be trouble, but so long as we dodge that Brahnas visit and continue our same pattern of visit frequency and length, we’ll be fine, especially until Midsummer,: Aelius retorted, tone distinctly scolding as he added, :Focus. On. Your. Problems. Thank you.:

:Sir, yes sir!: Anur replied dryly.

To that end, he told Kir, “Let’s get you back to a bench, I assume you still want me to go with the Justicar when he leaves?”

“Yes,” Kir said, brow furrowing as he looked over his shoulder at the bench he’d left, “…have you seen my coat?”

“The one that has been apparently replaced with very fancy vestments? No,” Anur replied, following his brother’s gaze and seeing a distinct lack of anything resembling a coat. “Hopefully it was just moved or swapped out, not transformed.”

“Vestments don’t have pockets,” Kir mumbled, Anur ignoring that non-sequitur to speak to the two soldiers. The patrolman was holding the Oathbreaker’s arms, while the Corporal was glancing between their target and the pair of them.

Catching his gaze, Anur asked, “The Justicar is still here?”

“Yes, Lieutenant-Enforcer, they’re gathering an estimate on the difficulty of entering this one’s office,” the Corporal reported, indicating the building evidently holding said office, “Once that is done, Holiness Jeryl professed intent to return to Fourth Court with the witnesses in need of more detailed questioning and, now, the Oathbreaker.”

“Good, I need to have a brief discussion with Kir, but will be accompanying you to Fourth Court, kindly pass that along if His Holiness returns while we’re talking,” Anur replied, returning the man’s salute before focusing on Kir again, grimacing when his brother didn’t even protest as Anur hooked his arm over his shoulders and his own arm around Kir’s waist before starting to walk back to that suspiciously coat-free bench. Anur had no idea why the Voice had needed to leave the bench in the first place, though it was likely something about drama and visibility. That was the only reason he could think of for another miraculously induced wardrobe change, after all.

Examining the sleeve hem that was now nearer eye-level, he hummed thoughtfully, cutting across Kir’s disgruntled muttering about where exactly his string and tea packets and arrowheads had better have ended up – that explained the vestments have no pockets comment at least – and saying, “Kir, I think these are your old winter vestments with the fancy additions Jaina commissioned. I see some of those pinpricks from letting out the hems, though it looks like most of them have been disguised by the broader brocade edging.”

“How bad is it?” Kir asked, glancing down at his vestments, “I honestly can’t get a solid grasp of how fancy they are with the whole fire bit covering them up.”

“Definitely fancier than your usual,” Anur decided, helping Kir sit down and finally believing more than he doubted the fact that Kir was mostly healed. There weren’t any hisses of pain, or carefully hidden flinches. This was tiredness.

He took advantage of it to scoot away a bit, get a better angle to look at said vestments. About the only thing that remained of the winter-weight vestments they had started as was the standard cut and the crimson wool. He suspected it had been re-dyed too, mostly because they might as well do so before adding all the flash. Thicker black edging than before, with sunburst motifs stiched on top of the black in copper beads, flanked on both sides by quarter-width golden brocade that had even more beads stitched overtop it in a zigzag pattern, and those beads he suspected were actually gold. The same style was repeated at the bottom hem of the robes and the overlaying mantle, dyed a slightly darker red, and each shoulder was elaborately embroidered with additional sunbursts, the rays trailing down front and back and with flame motifs stiched between each one.

But as elaborate as they were, he had seen the formal vestments the other members of Solaris’ Council wore, and some of the ones Jaina had worn when she was Incendiary when they had been pulled into dismantling some of the more redundant sets under Lumira and Fabron’s direction. These were practically understated in comparison.

“You look a little ridiculous without a Sun-in-Glory,” Anur commented, “They’re too elaborate to go without one.”

“There are beads,” Kir grumbled, apparently finally spotting said beads and blatantly ignoring Anur’s implied offer to return his loaned Sun-in-Glory.

Rolling his eyes, because he could have guessed Kir wouldn’t want him going anywhere without every possible visible sign of authority, Anur switched tracks entirely to get some good teasing in, “You’re so shiny!”

:You’ll have to both make sure I get to see your fancy new uniforms,: Aelius insisted around snickers, :It’s only fair!:

:Just wait, witch-horse, this Midsummer I’ll get to commission you your own fancy Sunhame uniform and I will make absolutely certain there are so many bells,: Kir promised, tone direly sincere and Anur had to cackle at Aelius’ horrified spluttering. His Companion deserved it, he’d been far too smug over the fact that he was a mere horse, and could get away with a quick polish on his Sunsguard tack, while he and Kir had been fitted for all manner of utterly unnecessary formal uniforms. At least he’d been able to dodge the turban, only Captains and above were required to wear them. He had no idea how to wear one of those and Kir would be no help.

He knew Kir had been thinking over the issue of ensuring Aelius-as-Companion was more obvious without necessarily resorting to all of his blue and silver tack once again, but had yet to make any solid preparations or even more than tentative ideas. Anur suspected that was about to change.

Wondering at something, Anur stuck his nose against Kir’s shoulder and inhaled, Kir definitely staring at him and sounding bewildered when he asked, “What are you doing?”

“They don’t smell like spice-tea anymore!” Anur complained, straightening with a disgruntled frown, “I thought maybe it had just faded, but they smell like cedar chips again.”

“Which is a good thing,” Kir said pointedly, eyes narrowing, “And is not something you need to fix.”

“Shows what you know,” Anur grumbled, making a mental note to get a more finely woven satchet and perhaps whole spices used in spice tea rather than literal teabags. Or both! Both could also work. Before Kir could continue to protest, Anur refocused on the issue at hand and said, “Right, Kari, kindly stay with Kir and take him back to the District once this mark is up, and stay there, unless urgently needed elsewhere. Medical attention, Kir. And not setting everything around you on fire.

“After I get medical attention I might ask Kari to take me to the Trial room for a while,” Kir admitted.

“That – would work, even if it makes me uncomfortable,” Anur conceded, quickly insisting, “But Kari has to stay with you in that case!”

“Deal,” Kir agreed.

Kari nodded his own agreement, leaping up onto the bench on Kir’s other side and saying, :Hansa agrees, and he will stay with you and the Justicar. Dispersal is continuing, and will simply proceed with more caution and less urgency when you are gone, Eldest. Also, I could not sense entirely what was happening with your manifestation, but I could sense enough to know that I have questions.:

“So do we all,” Anur grumbled, shaking his head and standing, “Less than even a half-mark, Kir. Let me know what the healer says, please.”

“Of course,” Kir promised, tangling his fingers in Kari’s fur again. Anur could feel the warmth increase behind him, so Kir’s shimmering curtains of fire were back in full force. He’d have to follow up with Aelius to make sure they actually left at the end of this designated mark, because while the Justicar had evidently been willing to wait a bit, he now had three additional witnesses for repeat questioning and the Oathbreaker all assembled and ready to go. There was no reason to delay any longer.

Time to get some questions answered.

“Wow, three whole pages for only one day? City life really is faster!”

“They sound very committed to never having to do that Hunting Rite again.”

“No need to sound so disappointed, Devin.”

“There is every need to sound disappointed!”

Chapter Text

The Oathbreaker’s catatonic state was rather horrifying to witness. The fact that he was still capable of answering questions and showed no hesitation at answering was useful, far more useful than his death would have been, but Jeryl would almost prefer the man trying to dodge answering or at least spitting insults or imprecations. At least that sort of behavior showed some sort of humanity. Was the man even capable of understanding he had been caught any longer? That his actions had been discovered, and he was facing rightful consequences? The Voice had said that mortal justice remained, but what justice could there be, if the person judged was no longer capable of understanding that the consequences they faced had been earned?

Determining how to achieve that mortal justice for this man was going to be complicated, to say the least, but for the moment he only had to worry about the manpower problem of arresting and questioning everyone the Oathbreaker had listed as un-coerced co-conspirator to this plot, including no less than three individuals assigned to Fourth Court, though thankfully not ones he had pulled in to work on this case. Speaking to those who had been coerced would have to wait, especially since the Incendiary’s Voice manifestation had apparently removed all traces of the man’s maliciously crafted spellwork.

“Is this catatonic state permanent, Lieutenant-Enforcer?” he asked, glancing over at the soldier when he got within earshot.

The man grimaced, rubbing his face tiredly and admitting, “To be honest, Your Holiness, I have no idea. This is the second time we’ve used this Rite, and that first Nameless One was dead at the end of the Hunt. I think that this is due to the removal of his magecraft, not his declaration of Namelessness, based on Nameless Two through Five – they fought back after their denunciation, so Namelessness alone doesn’t result in this… state.”

Jeryl paused mid-nod, turning and staring after that last comment, and he certainly wasn’t alone in staring, because what.

“Six,” the Enforcer corrected, an odd set of expressions flickering across his face too quickly for Jeryl to actually register what they were, “Ah. Sorry, there were five there, but we started at two. Two through Six. Didn’t actually interact with the other… wait, were those three even Nameless? Gah. This one is either Seven or Ten, depending on whether or not those three we dealt with – oh, right! One moment.”

“Laskaris!” the Enforcer called, the Firestarter in question looking over from where he was designating another spot for barrel-placing, “Did we test if those three with the Hardornens were actually Nameless?”

“Yes, and they were,” the priest called back, evidently knowing exactly what the Enforcer was talking about, “I thought you two denounced them?”

“No, we didn’t, they must have been caught in Anika Brersi’s denunciation, that’s why I doubted. Thank you!” the Enforcer said, turning back to them and saying, “Right then. This one is Nameless Ten. I was really off, I thought he was Eight.”

“You count them?” Holiness Ulrich asked, stealing the words from Jeryl’s mouth.

“It’s the simplest way to keep track of them in the records,” Bellamy replied, shrugging, “Writing ‘the one once called Bertrand’ or whatever their name once was gets tedious, and sometimes I don’t actually know their names – like Two through Nine, off the top of my head I have no idea what their names were. And listing out their crimes isn’t a useful indicator either, since Two through Six had practically the same listing, so far as I’m aware. Given, we usually refer to them as a collective, but if specifics are ever necessary, we need some way to keep track.”

“Right,” Jeryl said faintly, forcibly pulling his mind from that unproductive track and asking, “You said removal of his magecraft? That is in addition to the removal of all of his maliciously crafted spellwork?”

“So that is what Kir’s half of the Voice manifestation did, good to have that confirmed,” Bellamy muttered to himself, which really only prompted more questions, but thankfully before Holiness Ulrich could ask and derail their conversation further, the Enforcer properly replied, saying, “Yes, the exact wording the Voice used was ‘We strip you of your Talents’, one of which was obviously magecraft.”

He couldn’t not ask about that, but Holiness Ulrich again beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, are you claiming that magecraft is a Talent?” the black-robe mage-scholar asked.

“Yes,” the Enforcer said, giving him and Ulrich a puzzled glance, “Because it is.”

“I… had not considered that interpretation,” Holiness Ulrich admitted, sounding thoughtful.

“My understanding of magecraft is that, fundamentally, it is the ability to harness magical energy. The level of energy you can safely harness is what results in those power level classifications you use,” the Enforcer said, brow furrowing, “But that underlying ability to harness magical energy is a Talent, so far as I am aware. Hansa?”

:That is my understanding as well,: Honored Hansa broadcast, blue eyes boring into the Oathbreaker, :And to be frank, this one is most definitely no longer a mage after that declaration, so the point is rather proven, I would think.:

“Fair enough,” Holiness Ulrich said, sounding bemused, before turning to Jeryl and saying, “Apologies for the distraction, Justicar.”

“I had much the same questions,” Jeryl admitted, “But further enquiries must wait. Honored Hansa, is there anyone at Fourth Court you could use as an anchor for Jumping? I would prefer to get this one truly secured as soon as possible regardless of his current state.”

:Holiness Jaina is almost there, I believe,: Honored Hansa replied, power-bleached gaze moving to him instead of the Oathbreaker but no less penetrating for it, :I can take up to four people at once that distance.:

Jeryl bit back his immediate urge to declare himself one of those four and actually thought out what was needed, rather than what he desperately wanted. Fortunately though, he rather thought his immediate arrival in Fourth Court was the best course of action, particularly since the Enforcer could secure the Oathbreaker for transit and Lieutenant Jergen could be trusted to escort the three in need of further questioning – the priest in the group was no mage, but he might ask Holiness Ulrich to accompany the three soldiers and three witnesses to Fourth Court regardless as additional security. The sheer number of times priests had tried to brush by or ignore Sunsguard officers in the course of an investigation was absurd, and the primary reason he had declared one of his men an Investigator on so very many of his cases.

“Lieutenant Jergen, escort these three to Fourth Court, I will have arranged for witness rooms and statement collection by the time you get there. I need to send orders to – hells. Oathbreaker, how many Sectors of Sunhame do you know for certain hold victims of your spell-based coercion?”

“All of them,” the Oathbreaker said flatly.

“I apparently need to send orders and explanations to literally everyone, and sooner the better,” Jeryl grimaced, “Fantastic. Lieutenant-Enforcer, if you could take the Oathbreaker again? Garth Nolans, you will be the fourth – I would prefer to keep your involvement as quiet as possible, at least until I have Vars in custody.”

“However I can assist, Holiness,” Nolans replied, tone grim but no less sincere for it.

Nodding at the man, Jeryl turned to Holiness Ulrich, but the elder man anticipated him and smiled, saying, “I will join the Lieutenant and your other men, in that case, so I can offer my own statement.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved he hadn’t needed to ask. Spelling out the fact he doubted other priests’ willingness to cooperate in an investigation seldom went well, no matter how utterly justified he was.

Honored Hansa settled at Jeryl’s feet, the others leaving space for the four of them to stand closer, though the Enforcer deliberately kept the Oathbreaker on the outer edge of their little cluster, and Jeryl refrained from activating mage-sight when those flames sparked. He had heard Holiness Colbern swearing under his breath about flash-blindness after the Hunting Rite, and he doubted mage-sight during a Jump would be any better.

A wrench to one side but no actual motion on his part and his feet slammed back into the ground, stumbling forward and Garth Nolans grabbing his arm to steady him. The Enforcer was half-doubled over and breathing very deliberately, the Oathbreaker actually falling to his knees, even though his expression didn’t so much as twitch.

“Why does that get worse as the day goes on?” the Enforcer wheezed, Jeryl straightening and murmuring thanks to Nolans, who nodded shortly and was practically tackled by a woman who was undoubtedly his sister. They had apparently been brought to the main entryway of Fourth Court, where at least one Justicar and a few Sunsguard served as gatekeepers – Holiness Jaina and Maude Nolans must have only just arrived, Justicar Marya was barely managing to restrain her reaction to basic incredulity. The Sunsguard behind her were properly spluttering, so he felt a little better about his own reactions to the Firecats he had encountered today.

:Traversing the Void causes cumulative stress on physical shells,: Honored Hansa was speaking to everyone, by the twitches, the Firecat still seated by Jeryl’s side and tail wrapped neatly around his paws. :Having a longer gap between Jumps allows that stress to fade, but it takes some marks. Hence your conclusion that Jumping gets worse as the day goes on. Having an overnight stretch with no Jumping is sufficient to relieve that stress – unless you Jump a truly excessive number of times, but at that point you likely face different problems.:

“Like no longer having a stomach,” the Enforcer grumbled, heaving the Oathbreaker to his feet with assistance from a woman who was undoubtedly Holiness Jaina, regardless of how she was dressed, “Thanks Jaina. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about Valerik?”

“How on earth would I hear anything before you?” the priestess retorted, turning to Jeryl and he quickly introduced himself.

“Jeryl, Justicar of the First Order, assigned to Fourth Court,” he said, offering a blessing gesture.

She returned it, inclining her head politely and saying, “Jaina, First Order Firestarter.”

With introductions out of the way, he turned to a now merely intrigued looking Marya and said, “I’ll be needing runners for every Sector Station sent to my office and three witness rooms prepared – one priest, two staff, all from the southern charity temple complex, Lieutenant Jergen is bringing them. A black-robe mage-scholar by the name of Ulrich is accompanying them, he’ll need to be given a space to write out his own witness statement and then can go, he witnessed nothing unique. If anything comes in from those sent to the northern complex, alert me straight away and we’ll definitely need a full team for compiling everything that’s going to be pouring in, this is going to be a mess.”

She had started taking notes on her slate the moment he started talking, and was nodding as he went. Tilting the slate so he could read it, everything he had rattled off was on the list, so he took her chalk and added the three names the Oathbreaker had given for Fourth Court co-conspirators and a brief shorthand message that they were to be uninvolved and would soon be taken into custody themselves, once he had a secure place to verbalize orders and another First Order Justicar to hand the names over to. Her eyes narrowed on seeing that, and he met her gaze deliberately, before tapping the fully written out word ‘Oathbreaker’. Marya’s expression went grim, and she returned his short nod before going to the main ready-room’s doorway and snapping off orders. Jeryl left her to it and turned to the others, finding all five of the actually aware people watching him.

“We’ll head to my office,” he informed them, heading for the stairs. He could have sent them to a witness room, but none of those were stocked with ink and paper to the levels he suspected he’d need, and he needed access to his court-seal and wax for the first glut of orders. Besides all of that, he didn’t want the Oathbreaker out of his sight until the Fourth Court coconspirators were secured and unable to try and silence him.

“What happened to this one?” he heard Holiness Jaina ask, taking up the tail of their group with the Enforcer and Oathbreaker immediately in front of her and the Nolans siblings on Jeryl’s heels with Honored Hansa.

“Hunting Rite to catch him, don’t worry, Colbern and Laskaris saw the Rite, Seras can interrogate them to his heart’s content, and the third denunciation resulted in a stripping of Talents. He’s no longer a mage.”

“Well, that’s one way to get definitive proof that magecraft is a Talent,” she said, amusement clear despite the way her voice echoed in the stairwell. They had three floors here, and all First Order Justicars had their offices on the outer edge of the top floor, while the central space was filled with shelves of legal references and filing cabinets filled with blank copies of commonly used forms.

“Hansa also agrees with the classification, so I think we can start presenting it as fact,” the Enforcer said, “Did you see Etrius and Rodri at all or were you set on the trap unraveling before they made it to the market?”

“I saw the swarm of locusts they were escorting, though didn’t manage to see them themselves,” she said dryly, more than one snort of amusement responding to that description, the priestess continuing, “When did the purge of maliciously crafted magic happen? Was that part of the Rite somehow?”

“Define ‘part of’,” the Enforcer said, huffing a laugh, “No, that was Kir’s half of the Voice manifestation.”

“Of the what?!”

“Well, sounds like it was an exciting case,” Justicar Mattis said, the next-most senior Justicar of Fourth Court appearing in his office doorway and looking more than half-asleep despite the smell of overbrewed and very caffeinated tea coming from his mug. Some days it felt as though the man was singlehandedly responsible for half of the more amusing stereotypes about Justicars, but he was very good at his job and hadn’t taken an unreasonable bribe in his life.

Allowing his colleagues to bribe him with tea and treats so he would help them with their reports was very reasonable.

“I believe you want the present tense of that verb,” Jeryl retorted, jerking his head towards his own office, “Come along, I have a job for you too, and it won’t be wrapped up before Midwinter.”

“Excellent,” the man muttered, “If you had added a case file to my end-of-year summation, I would have cried in front of the acolytes.”

Which would have sent the acolytes into a panic, spawned all sorts of wildly escalating rumors at all levels, and ended with the man receiving a massive gift basket of teas and pastries and pamphlets of terrible puns masquerading as riddles. To be frank, Jeryl didn’t see why Mattis wouldn’t want that to happen, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“You mentioned a Voice manifestation, Lieutenant-Enforcer?” Mattis prompted.

“A joint one, yes,” the Enforcer replied, focusing back on Holiness Jaina as he continued, “The Voice manifestation – I definitely told Seras our first usage of the Rite resulted in a joint Voice manifestation. This one did too, though it was… oddly overlapping, from what I could tell.”

Jeryl glanced over his shoulder at the pair while he ran through his long-memorized unlocking spell and key sequence, wondering how much of that was something Holiness Jaina knew how to interpret – he certainly didn’t understand much of its implications. It seemed she only had more questions as well, looking distinctly startled, while Bellamy had an odd grimace on his face. Whatever it was he meant by an ‘oddly overlapping’ joint Voice manifestation, it had likely been an uncomfortable experience.

“Well. We’ll be spoiled for choice for Conclave tales,” Holiness Jaina finally said, shaking her head, “A joint Voice manifestation, no, Seras never mentioned that phrasing to me.”

He could see Mattis startle at that statement, giving Her Holiness a longer look, now that she had mentioned the Firestarters’ annual meeting.

“It didn’t sound like he had heard of it,” the Enforcer said, definitely uncomfortable now. Jeryl couldn’t blame him, opening his office door and heading in, waving for the rest to follow him. Fortunately, he often held informal meetings in his office, so while it was rather cramped, there was enough seating, so long as the siblings shared the bench under the window regardless of its awkward closeness to his desk and he cleared the least comfortable chair in the Court of his pile of notes from the year. He’d almost finished his end-of-year report – fortunately reports were due for any case finished in the previous year, so he and those recruited to assist wouldn’t have to try and write this mess up before Midwinter’s Day.

“This one’s the least comfortable,” he said over his shoulder, gathering the stack of reports and carefully setting them on the floor with the chunk of an old stonework lintel he used as a paperweight.

“Cheers,” the Enforcer murmured, manhandling the Oathbreaker into said chair and frowning before shifting the man’s bindings so his arms were hooked behind the back of the chair.

“Is that even necessary?” Holiness Jaina asked, Mattis stepping through behind her and shutting the door.

“Eh. Unsure. Stupid reason to get stabbed though,” the Enforcer replied, shrugging and leaning against the wall beside the Oathbreaker out of the same sense of caution. Jeryl appreciated it, though he did agree with Holiness Jaina that it was likely unnecessary.

The soldier’s gaze settled on Mattis, nodding politely and saying, “Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy, Your Holiness.”

“Mattis, First Order Justicar,” his colleague replied, turning to Jaina and saying, “And if I’m not mistaken, you are Holiness Jaina, First Order Firestarter and former Incendiary?”

“I am,” she confirmed, taking up a spot near the Nolans siblings, “Though I cannot say I am very involved in this investigation.”

“I will need your witness statement at the very least,” Jeryl said absently, hauling the forms for arrest of Court-assigned Sunsguard and the separate forms required to formally accuse and arrest a priest, particularly a Justicar. Mattis recognized the elaborate header on the latter and raised an eyebrow, setting aside whatever questions he had to step closer and peer over Jeryl’s papers.

“Three total?” the man murmured, grimacing, “That’s what you have me on, then.”

“Likely more,” Jeryl replied grimly, writing out names and justification while his sealing wax warmed, “These three are simply those named as willing co-conspirators involved in this latest scheme. Oathbreaker, how many willing co-conspirators do you have within Fourth Court?”

“Three,” the man said, voice still utterly flat.

“Who knows if my willing co-conspirators wording is sufficient,” Jeryl muttered under his breath, “Hopefully it is. Right. There are likely those who were coerced as well, but that will have to wait. If anyone approaches you after these arrests to discuss themselves being coerced, kindly take down their testimony and if they find themselves literally unable to state the name of one of those involved, prompt them to state the name with the precursor phrase ‘the one once called’.”

Mattis choked on his tea and had to spit it back into his mug, wheezing and now properly staring between the Oathbreaker and Jeryl, “You mean this man is properly Nameless? The old way, not just – out of custom?”

“Yes,” Jeryl said, understanding his colleague’s loss of composure completely but unable and unwilling to answer his questions right now, “Nameless and Oathbreaker.”

“Definitely an is interesting, then,” Mattis murmured, glancing over the names Jeryl had finished writing and grimacing, “Hells. Felis set my teeth on edge, but Edric?”

“Apparently so,” Jeryl said, stamping all three sets. Waiting for the wax to set and the ink to dry for at least a few more moments, he examined Mattis carefully before glancing Honored Hansa’s way, the Firecat seated at Enforcer Bellamy’s side. Mattis hadn’t commented on his presence at all – if that was due to lack of opportunity or lack of awareness, Jeryl didn’t know.

The Enforcer smiled grimly and gave the Sunsguard’s one handed signal for ‘assent’ before he spoke up, “Holiness Mattis, keeping in mind the fact that the old penalties for Oathbreaking are now provably enforceable, would you be willing to swear an oath that you will secure the three individuals on those orders with all possible legal speed, and ensure they are kept secure and separated, without using excessive force?”

“Definitely present tense,” Mattis repeated, hesitating before saying, “So long as another Justicar is the one to declare me Oathbreaker, should I be judged to be in default – we have policies and procedures unique to our branch of the priesthood, and I would want that taken into account.”

“Truth, and a reasonable caveat,” the Enforcer said mildly, turning back to Jeryl and inclining his head, “His willingness, stated under truth compulsion, is sufficient for myself and Honored Hansa, Justicar. However if you would prefer the additional security of such an oath, by all means.”

Jeryl had no idea how the Enforcer had been able to guess what he was after so very well, though he supposed it would be a rather obvious course of action to someone more familiar with using truth compulsions in their investigations, but he was impressed. He also appreciated both Mattis’ caveat and the fact that the Enforcer realized it was reasonable.

“I consider it sufficient,” Jeryl said, handing the scrolls over to Mattis, “Thank you, Mattis. Once you have those three secured, I need this one hauled down to one of the warded interrogation rooms.”

“Of course,” Mattis agreed, looking a little blindsided and having visibly startled at reference to Honored Hansa, so the Cat had apparently been hiding himself somehow, “But – my apologies, a truth compulsion?”

:It is one of our abilities, we call it Tell Me True.:

“Fascinating,” Mattis murmured, giving a slight bow to the Cat, “My thanks for the explanation, Honored Hansa. Jeryl, I’ll come for this one myself once everyone is secured.”

With that, he headed out, and Jeryl deliberately put the coming disastrously complicated mess resulting from a Justicar being proven corrupt from his mind. They had been lucky so far – no current Fourth Court Justicars had been accused, though there had been some of their Sunsguard whose judgment had been deemed suspect and their cases in need of review. Last he’d heard, that effort had been nearly wrapped up – and now this would start it all up again. It needed to be done, of course, as messy and terrible as it would undoubtedly be, but for the moment he had more urgent things to handle.

“Once I get the orders and announcements for the runners drafted and stamped, I’ll collect your testimony, Mistress Nolans – and your own, Holiness Jaina. Garth Nolans, I’ll need to formally collect and record your own testimony regarding today’s events as well, but that can wait a bit – what I need more urgently is a crime committed by Darius Vars that you can testify to under truth compulsion as an eyewitness, so I can issue formal arrest orders.”

“That I can do,” Nolans said grimly, finally sitting down with his sister on the padded bench, and Holiness Jaina claiming a nearby chair for herself.

“If you’d like,” the ex-Sunsguard continued carefully, “I can list the laws broken in the incident I have in mind under truth compulsion, and give the full story later – so you can issue those orders as quickly as possible.”

“This case is going to spoil me terribly with these truth compulsions,” Jeryl muttered, drawing out a stack of sixteen generic incident summary-and-response forms and, from another drawer, four arrest warrants. Seventh and Eighth, both Outer and Inner, were Vars’ most common stomping grounds, and name alone would be sufficient for those Sector Stations. The others he would have to file with a full description of Vars on top of the basics, and ideally a sketch though he wouldn’t be able to produce one himself, he’d never properly interacted with the wretch.

“You have an incident in mind already?” he confirmed, filling out name and former occupation and the few haunts he’d heard of while he spoke.

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“In that case – the list of laws Vars broke, whenever you’re ready.”

=pagebreak=

Grevenor had never been healed by one of the true Healers before – the ones that could only Heal, not the mages trained to heal in their own way. It had been rather strange in comparison to mage-craft healing, simply because he was a mage himself and could perceive some of what those spells were doing when performed on him. He was unable to replicate it, of course, he was no healer, but he was able to sense it. He could sense none of what this Healer did aside from the physical sensations. It made the clear delineation the old regime had made between true Healers and mage-Healers a lot more understandable.

Both methods drew on the healed individual’s reserves, however, though as his most severe injury had been his punctured eardrums and he had managed to avoid even cracking any bones, he was not so exhausted as he had feared he would be. A good thing, too. Solaris and Karchanek were not being particularly subtle about the fact they wished to speak to him. The Healer left with an exchange of blessing gestures and mention that he was going to the Firestarter’s Hall in case his colleague needed assistance, receiving Her Eminence’s sincere thanks.

Karchanek was watching him as though he might be a threat.

“Karchanek, what on earth could I have done to offend you so badly?” he asked tiredly, tilting his head back against the armchair he’d been shoved into.

“You’re being a coward. Again,” the younger man scoffed, “Years of talking and praying, and you still try and shove responsibility onto others.”

“I do not!” Grevenor snapped, indignant and feeling a rush of energy with it, “How dare you!”

“How dare you!” Karchanek spat back, freezing when Her Eminence raised one, quelling finger. They both averted their gazes, and Grevenor knew they both felt the same shame. Tiredness and stress were valid explanations, but in truth they were merely excuses.

“I did not choose my Council to fill my ears with my own opinions,” Solaris said sternly, “But I did choose those who could express those differences in opinion coherently, and without resorting to volume in an effort to persuade!”

“Apologies, Your Eminence,” they both murmured

“Apologies accepted, so long as you actually try to do better,” she said, still every inch their Son of Sun, not the woman they could call friend, “And I do not simply mean this moment, where you both resort to insults and tedious repetition! When I hold Council sessions, I wish to hear your opinions. That is the entire point, and now I find myself learning that one of my Councilors is incapable of interacting with Firestarters without resorting to barbs and sneering in the midst of a crisis! That is unacceptable, Grevenor! Entirely unacceptable! You have every right to your own opinions but when they impact your actions, when they lead you to directly contradict another Councilor and have them surprised by it, you go too far! You have had every chance to express your concerns in a constructive manner to myself, to your fellows, to the Incendiary directly, and you have clearly not taken them!

“This ends now,” Solaris said, staring them both down and Grevenor fancied he could feel her gaze like a weight across his shoulders, “Grevenor. What were you thinking? What are you thinking?”

Grevenor was tempted to glance at Karchanek, because they had discussed this together over the years, had prayed together, after both of them had a more solid understanding of the sorts of reforms Solaris would be bringing with her. Of the things they had done thinking they were right and lawful and only later found they were wretched and wrong. But he also knew that doing so would only prove Karchanek’s point.

“They became the worst of us,” he finally said, “Their Order was supposed to hold the priesthood to a higher standard! Keep us honest! And they failed utterly and wantonly and fell the furthest of everyone! They are the worst of us and they are all still here! None of their authority has been taken away, none of their people have been disciplined, every single one of them are carrying on as though they were not monsters! As though they were not a manifestation of everything terrible in the old regime!

“The worst of the summoners, of the necromancers, were all dead within weeks of your Ascent,” he explained, he pleaded, “Nameless and Oathbreakers and dead, but not a single Firestarter? Not a single one of them held to the same standard? Perhaps they are needed against Hardorn, but a few demotions at the very least and instead there is nothing.”

The room practically echoed with the silence that fell.

“There are no less than twelve former summoners still in the priesthood who genuinely long for the days they could call down Furies,” Solaris said, voice cold, “There are far more than twelve members of the priesthood who still think that Talents are wrong – perhaps not utter demonic evil, but certainly worth culling from our population. Worth burning children for. Would you have me kill every one of them? Demote them, humiliate them, for daring to have their own opinions? For daring to have their own thoughts?”

“What?” he asked, startled, “No! Of course not, they can be persuaded, that is what the mandatory seminars are supposed to do – “

“Then what makes the Firestarters so different?” she snapped, a loss of composure that was terrifying for its rarity, “Why should they die for following the former regime’s laws, and no one else? You are not thinking clearly, Grevenor, and this is unlike you.”

“They were supposed to stop it,” he insisted, but his voice sounded small, his own confidence, his own fury, withering to nothing in his chest. All that was left was the guilt and grief that underlay everything.

“The Order could have possibly intervened in the initial descent, yes,” Solaris said, very precise emphasis on the words that made her statement anything but an agreement with him, “An Order of never more than twenty-one individuals, stand against a priesthood well into the thousands.”

“The first custom and law we can point to as wrong, as directly contradicting a tenet of the Sunlord’s Path, was implemented nearly seven hundred years ago. For nearly a century before that, questionable decisions made with potentially the best of intentions were recorded,” Karchanek said, repeating information Ulrich and his scholarly allies had compiled and tallied over the past few years, if only making proper and public reports in this past one, “Grevenor, holding a grudge against the current members of the Order for something that old is ridiculous, even if your grudge against those long-dead members was valid, which it isn’t. You turned your lover’s student in for witchcraft, and she wasted away from grief after the boy burned. That is tragic, that is horrible, but it was not the Firestarters’ job to stop you. Are they responsible for burning him? Yes. Obviously. Are they any more responsible for that death than you? I rather doubt it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Grevenor hissed, feeling his eyes burn at the memory, as they always did, “You think I don’t know that I’m the reason they’re both dead? Because I do! And I have worked so very hard to atone for that even though it’s impossible.”

“And you do not think the Firestarters are trying to atone?” Solaris asked, tone still pointed, but somehow gentler. He didn’t deserve that.

“They have lost nothing!” he nearly snapped, “Incandescence Dinesh has taken so very many others to task and has done nothing to his own! He’s even pushing one of the Third Orders for promotion, did you know that? He’s saying it’s ridiculous she hasn’t been promoted years ago, that she hadn’t already earned a higher rank over the ashes of children! He risks himself recklessly to defend them, to keep them from danger, when he is the best of them.”

“Lost nothing?” Karchanek demanded, voice incredulous, but Solaris raised a hand and silenced him.

“They have lost every veil they could possibly use to shield their eyes from the horror of what they have done,” Solaris said, hard and implacable as steel once again, “They have lost every reassurance of righteousness, of necessity, of honored duty, that allowed them to fall back asleep after nightmares of children screaming awoke them. They have lost their shield from the anger and terror of their fellows, of the laity, because they can no longer tell themselves they are protecting them, they are serving as the last line of defense against evil that would consume and condemn our very souls. They. Have. Lost. Grevenor. They have lost so very much.”

She rose to her feet, and smoothed down her vestments.

“You are tired, and continuing this will only dissolve into the three of us raging at each other. Meditate and pray on what we have discussed, Grevenor, because we will be returning to this topic,” she promised, very nearly grim. “Karchanek, I will trust you to assist Grevenor to his quarters without aggravating things further. If you feel you cannot, call for Larschen or someone similar to assist. I will be going to Ari’s Hall. I wish to speak to my brother.”

=pagebreak=

Lumira was surprised to find Maltin in the kitchen, one of their archive’s multitude of books regarding Vanya Flamesinger in hand. As a rule, she did not see Maltin very much at all, though that was mostly explained by the fact that she had been spending the majority of her time out of Sunhame this year, trying to help the men who’d sworn their loyalty to her for no reason beyond the fact she’d treated them with basic decency.

The Eldest had asked her to report on some of the horrors she had heard of from her people, so that the Firestarters had a more solid idea of the sort of enemy they had gathering to their north. She had finished compiling what she wanted to say while he and the Enforcer were out of Sunhame, and had been hoping to get the chance to ask for permission to only relay some of these things before the whole Order.

Henrik was very nearly twenty years younger than her, and seven years younger than the Eldest. The difference in life experience, attitude, and sheer presence those seven years made for left Henrik and their younger set seeming so very much younger than they were. But the ordained ones she could not justify sheltering, they would be on the front lines with the rest of them. The students though… them she could try and shield. Them she had always tried to shield, but any successes on her part had been severely curtailed by the realities of Sunhame as a woman.

She had needed to practically beg to convince Seras to back her on taking Jaina for a few patrols instead of leaving the entirety of her education to Verius. As it was, it had taken the Phyrrus fiasco for him to actually do anything about it, instead of simply making the suggestion to Armand a couple of times a year and accepting the man’s refusal without more than a token protest. When she had finally managed to speak with Jaina about the realities of being a priestess and a Firestarter, she had been ready to murder Verius with her own two hands because Jaina had been left with the most horrific of blind spots.

Fortunately, dealing with Verius’ greed for students had become a moot point upon his death.

“Any fresh insights, Acolyte Maltin?” she asked, making herself a mug of tea and finding the upper cupboard stash of spiced apple liquer she and Laskaris split the cost of every Conclave. Normally she would save it for the opening, but after this morning and what she had been hearing about everyone else’s morning, she needed at least a splash.

“No, Holiness Lumira,” Maltin said, Lumira topping off the kettle before returning it to the hearth and sitting down across from Kavrick’s student. Now that the Eldest was no longer exiled, every Firestarter had their own little cohort of near-yearmates in the Order, with Kavrick and Valerik just enough older than herself and Laskaris that they had only had a few moons of overlap as acolytes.

Valerik had taken her out into Sunhame a few times. She hadn’t worn the name Mira in well over a decade, now, but once upon a time, knowing how to get out of the District and into a marketplace where she could talk frankly about embroidery and stiching without being talked down to as a mere stitch-witch or stammered at as a terrifying monster had kept her sane. She had dusted off that name a few moons ago to get her hands on the perfect gradient-dyed thread for the Eldest’s mantle’s flame-motifs. The tailors here were excellent, especially after years of getting used to her hands-on involvement in Firestarters’ vestments, but sometimes she truly wanted to inspect goods herself rather than give a description and hope whatever they found was adequate.

“Fair enough,” she replied lightly, offering Maltin a smile, “Though I suspect you’ll be asked that question a lot, going forwards.”

He returned her smile at least faintly, which she would take as the victory it was, before ducking his head to focus on his book again. She let him, and instead focused on savoring her tea and what she suspected would be one of the few quiet moments of the next few days.

“I think some of the stranger songs he wrote were trying to make the sun-blessed steel song something others could hear,” Maltin said quietly, tilting his book towards her so she could see that he had grabbed the biography that doubled as a compilation of Flamesinger’s compositions, placing each piece of music into the biography as he wrote it or near the event which supposedly inspired it, depending on the song.

“Oh?” Lumira asked, leaning forward to look at the song in question. She had no idea how to read music, particularly not the complicated multi-component hymns like the one Maltin was pointing out, but she could at least read the title. The fact that there were no lyrics was also interesting, and explained why she couldn’t recall ever hearing it – tonal chanting with instrumental backing of some complicated variety, if she wasn’t completely misreading those annotations.

“I haven’t heard this one,” Maltin admitted, pulling the book back towards himself, “But Father Kavrick asked me if I thought I could write out what the music sounded like, and when I tried to think about what I would need to include, I remembered seeing this once and wondering about why someone would write a hymn like this. It isn’t – no one would play it, Holiness.”

“Why not?” Lumira asked, propping her chin on her hand and wondering briefly how Valerik was doing – she had just returned from her messenger run to Fourth Court, and had heard murmurs of some sort of excitement involving broken spellcraft as she walked through the District, but had yet to actually see anyone else. Kavrick and Valerik were undoubtedly in Valerik’s room with whatever healer had been arranged, while the others were all off on their own missions. That only left herself and Maltin to wait for word.

At least he had a project to keep himself occupied, rather than fretting. She would gladly take advantage of this project herself.

“It’s too complicated,” Maltin replied, pointing out pieces of the music – at least nine pages all for this song, it was certainly long, whatever else it was, “To actually perform it would require a full vocalist choir and at least six instruments. The only place large enough to host that with the right acoustics to not drown anything out would be the main temple here, and with how long it is, there would be time for at least two full-length processionals. No service would fit that in.”

“What you hear from Sun-blessed steel is truly so complicated?” Lumira asked, feeling more than a little wistful. She had no skill for music, never had, but she appreciated it. What must it be like, to hear the world as the Eldest did? To hear sun-blessed steel as a chorus all its own? Kavrick’s request might have been made in an effort to give Maltin some project he could sink his teeth into without growing overwhelmed or discouraged by the sheer volume of things they did not yet know or understand, but she would bet it was at least partially motivated by the same wonder she felt herself.

“Pieces,” Maltin admitted, looking at the pages and folding his hands in his lap, “It changes, over time, from what Rodri said. I didn’t hear any of that shift, when I heard it, but I didn’t listen for very long. It was mostly – it was mostly loud.”

“You should try and record what you hear, I would be interested to see how it compares to this piece,” Lumira encouraged, before smiling faintly, “Though looking at this piece, I suppose you’ll need to take more classes with the chorus to do it proper justice.”

“Father Kavrick helped me sign up for an intermediate instrumentals course,” Maltin admitted, sounding cautiously delighted, “I can’t add any more classes for spring, but sometimes they invite students to the advanced seminars.”

“Well then, I’ll hope you receive one of those invitations,” Lumira said, making a mental note to ask Kavrick what other courses Maltin had to complete before his education was considered adequate for ordination. Determining some sort of independent study replacement for some couldn’t be too difficult, and that might free up some of his future terms for additional music classes.

Maltin actually smiled at her when he replied, “Thank yo – “

The knotted bracelets she’d started making this year tightened painfully around her wrist, and the window over Maltin’s shoulder went from the shapes of the courtyard tinted by the color of the glass to solid red-yellow-gold.

“Get away from the windows!” she barked, lunging for the door and pressing her hands against it – warm, not truly hot, but too warm for this door to be safe to open just now, “Get Kavrick, Maltin, quickly!”

The student was already halfway to the exit and very nearly bowled Her Eminence over when he lunged out the door, stammering hasty apologies but not waiting for an acknowledgment before bolting for the stairs. Lumira would have to tell Kavrick about that; he would be so proud. She didn’t bother to acknowledge the woman either, focusing instead on the courtyard that undoubtedly held their Eldest.

The door was cooling, and the windows were no longer entirely blocked by fire. Lumira readied some of her emergency extinguishing spells, only useful in her immediate surroundings and only for a very short time indeed, and cracked open the courtyard door. No fire rushed her, and she could see the gravel and stone and dirt that made up the courtyard this time of year, so she opened the door fully and stepped out, Her Eminence quickly following with two Sunsguard in tow, though they at least looked a little twitchy at the curls and curtains of fire that were flickering in and out of existence in front of them.

The Eldest was on his knees, and wearing the vestments she and Fabron had enchanted and embroidered, so he had some additional protection beyond his own abilities. Kari was with him, but both of them looked exhausted, and unless she was very much mistaken, the Eldest was leaning so far forward to let blood drip from his face onto gravel, instead of onto his new vestments. The man was far from vain, though he certainly understood the value of a display; she suspected that whatever had gotten him into those vestments had been more along the lines of the minor miracle of his investiture as Incendiary, rather than anything so mundane as Kari fetching his robes for him to change into for a bit of uniform-induced shock-and-awe.

Her Eminence plucked a hair from her own head and tested one of the nearby fires with it, grimacing when it caught alight and dropping it, saying ruefully, “I suppose that fireproof trick really does only apply to Anur.”

Lumira wondered what that was about, but her extinguishing spells were ready for use, so rather than ask, she carefully started undoing the first braided strand and stepped into the clear space it made. One strand got her to the Eldest’s side, and she started the second as she knelt next to him and prompted, “Eldest? You need to be seen by a healer, is there any way you can get these flames extinguished?”

“I am trying,” the Eldest rasped, Kari shaking himself and near visibly straining under some unseen weight – undoubtedly trying to do the same. A glance over her shoulder showed Her Eminence standing at the edge of the courtyard with her guards, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her, and no sign of Kavrick.

“Hells,” Lumira muttered, focusing on the flames which were still very much present, “And even if he was here this sort of fire wouldn’t be something Kavrick’s wards would do any better with. What can I bring you to make things easier for you? Anything?”

“Do you have a kerchief or something?” he asked wearily, “These vestments – I can’t bleed on them.”

“We could wash them in time for Midwinter’s Day, but it would be unfortunate,” Lumira said, hesitating before carefully offering one arm, unable to stop unweaving her braided spell, “My sleeve has a kerchief in it, I can’t stop the unweaving, it’s keeping me from burning.”

“Right, right. Oh. That’s clever,” the Eldest murmured, managing to find the kerchief tucked into her sleeve even while his gaze was locked on her carefully paced unraveling, “You only have one braid segment left, you should go.”

“I have another six of these bands,” Lumira said dryly, “Though they are in my room. I’ll fetch them, I might be able to extend their field of influence to include a healer.”

“I’m not injured any longer,” he said, utterly disregarding the blood he was wiping off his face with her kerchief, “This is strain, not injury. Anur is simply fussing.”

“Your Enforcer is simply sane,” she retorted, rising to her feet while their Eldest chuckled and shaking her head as she turned to walk back out of his fires. She choked on air when Her Eminence looked up and walked straight into the fires. The two Sunsguard also scrambled, but stopped before making it a step or two, the fires preventing them from coming any closer but Her Eminence, despite her first test’s failure, was not burning.

Lumira’s sleeve caught and she cursed, hastily starting her unraveling again and continuing forward, passing Her Eminence as she went – were Her Eminence’s eyes gold? They weren’t blazing with light as they had during the Voice manifestation Lumira had witnessed, and there was none of that weighty presence the Voice carried, the woman who passed her certainly seemed to be Solaris, not someone Other…

“What is this about you dodging a healer, brother?” she heard, and that voice was definitely Solaris herself, arch tone and all.

“I am not dodging, I am simply hazardous,” the Eldest protested.

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” Her Eminence said, sounding amused in spite of herself, and Lumira was finally far enough from the flames she could stop her unraveling and look back.

Her Eminence knelt in front of the Eldest and gathered Honored Kari onto her lap, the Firecat going practically boneless the moment he settled, and Lumira could just hear the murmur of low-toned conversation under the uncannily quiet whispering of the fires in the air – no wood or coal to snap and crackle, just whatever was floating in the air and burning under at the Eldest’s will, and somehow the complete lack of any golden light or divine manifestation made the entire thing so much more unnerving. The golden firestorm yesterday had been dramatic, had been surprising, and everyone had converged to help solve the issue. But this?

The Eldest was treating it as an inconvenience.

“Do you know if Her Eminence had any tasks which needed to be completed here?” Lumira asked the soldiers.

“No, Your Holiness, she simply stated she wished to speak with the Incendiary,” the Captain said, bowing slightly as most Temple Guard did towards priests and priestesses.

Lumira nodded in return, completing her segment’s unraveling and tying it off before pocketing it. She was about to explain that she needed to fetch more supplies to at least have a chance of safely getting a healer into their still fire-filled courtyard when the door to the kitchen opened again and Kavrick stepped out, Maltin and a priest-priestess pair she’d never met in tow. She knew by sight practically every ordained priestess in Sunhame, so this woman had to be one of the formerly isolated true Healers – either that, or a pastoral red-robe, but her black vestments disallowed that.

“Less dramatic than your firestorm, at least,” Kavrick said to his student, tone dry enough he had to be teasing.

Maltin’s flat look only confirmed it.

“He’s trying to extinguish them but cannot manage it,” Lumira reported, Kavrick nodding and drumming his fingers against his arm.

“Apparently the utter suppression of flammability he was utilizing to keep things from going catastrophically wrong is very counterintuitive, and when he no longer needed to suppress fire totally, this… backlash, of sorts, is the result,” Kavrick said, grimacing, “Or at least, that is what I got from Henrik’s rather rushed report. Starting fires is always easier than keeping them from ever forming, it seems reasonable enough. It will make getting him medical treatment more difficult though, Henrik mentioned a punctured lung?”

“What?!”

Fortunately, Kari spoke up before Lumira could forget she only had one extinguishing strand left and storm into fires to shout at the Eldest for blatantly lying to her, broadcasting, :No longer punctured. There was a joint Voice manifestation, his more critical injuries were healed; punctured lung and punctured eardrums for certain, he believes his bone fractures are also resolved, but mental strain and general bruising is still an issue, and the bones would be worth confirming.:

“I rather think all of it would be worth confirming,” the unknown priestess said mildly, exchanging a glance with her colleague before looking to Lumira.

“Lumira, Third Order Firestarter,” she introduced herself, looking between the healers, “I will be able to get one of you through the flames without being burned, though it will have a time limit, and I can definitely not manage to keep both of you unburned. Kavrick, thoughts?”

“Your techniques would be better for this,” Kavrick admitted, brow furrowing, “My methods would all be wards, and if this is backlash from severe mental strain… suppressing it could go rather badly, if it even worked.”

“And Henrik has all of your anchors anyway, Father Kavrick,” Maltin inserted quietly.

“Ach, good point, I forgot about that,” Kavrick grimaced.

Before they could finalize anything, or the healers could even properly introduce themselves, the fires in the courtyard shrank down to pinpricks; mere sparks, flickering and refusing to die, but unmoving and easy to avoid. Still, no need to be unsafe, she would get a few more of her extinguishing strands and then take one of the healers in –

Her Eminence gestured, and both healers brushed right past them. The Sunsguard attempted to follow but Lumira grabbed both of them by their collars and hissed, “Hold!”

They both froze, and she scowled at them, settling her one remaining extinguishing strand back into her hands as she said, “If anything disturbs his concentration, if his hold on those sparks fails, I will be lucky if I can get both of them out. I will be lucky if I can get one of them out. Her Eminence is in no danger, so kindly refrain from making my job any harder than it already is.”

“I can get one of them out alive; we might be a little singed, but we’ll be alive,” Kavrick told her, pressing a hand to Maltin’s shoulder and murmuring a request to brew headache tea before following her to the idiot healers’ sides.

They were already kneeling on either side of the Eldest, hands pressed against his back and sides, and murmuring to one another about whatever it was they were perceiving. She went to stand behind the priest, while Kavrick took the priestess. With any luck, they wouldn’t have to grab their respective healer and bolt for the edge of the courtyard, but better to be ready to do so than to have the Firestarters blamed for scarring or even killing some of Sunhame’s most treasured resources. They were going to have enough rumors to counteract after this whole framing-Valerik business, and that was with the priest actually behind it all apparently caught.

“Deep tissue bruising, but no fractures in bones or organ damage I can sense,” her healer concluded, “Beginning more focused examination of lungs.”

“Moving to head injuries,” the priestess-healer replied, settling her hand against the back of the Eldest’s neck and letting her eyes slide mostly shut, “Injuries were caused by impact?”

The Eldest gave a one-handed sign of affirmation, but Kavrick responded verbally, saying, “Caught in an explosion in an enclosed area; thrown against barrels in addition to the shockwave itself. Lots of fine particulates in the air too. Lung was reportedly repunctured by that impact.”

“Repunctured,” the male healer muttered, “Hmm. Yes, I can see that. Lungs are not punctured, nor do they have any fluid in them. Aggravated due to poor air quality, and some lingering weaknesses, likely due to that prior injury. I may be able to strengthen them, but it will take more time and is not needed urgently.”

Kavrick and she both nodded, and she caught the Eldest’s insistent delay hand-signal, agreeing entirely with his decision and relaying it aloud, “That can wait, then, until the Eldest is under less strain.”

“Yelena?” the priest prompted, the female healer humming but not responding otherwise. He apparently knew what she meant, though, and settled his hand over hers.

“I can lessen some inflammation caused by the mental strain of your abilities, and though there are no lingering signs of it I suspect you had a concussion simply due to the other injuries you suffered,” the priestess, apparently Yelena, said, speaking directly to the Eldest, “Your punctured eardrums were healed completely, as well. Nothing critical remains, though as Coric said, I would like to see what aid we can offer when you are under less strain.”

“That can be arranged,” Lumira promised, because regardless of what the Eldest wanted, Jaina and the Enforcer would undoubtedly agree with her. By the flicker of amusement across Kavrick’s face, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and definitely agreed with her. She was right, after all.

The healers accepted that response, and rose to their feet, bowing to Her Eminence and accepting her blessing before leaving, Kavrick following them both and Lumira holding back until they were clear, and starting her final unraveling the moment the sparks flared back into proper flames.

“Will you both be remaining here?” she asked, not letting her breath hitch in alarm out of sheer stubbornness.

“Yes,” Solaris responded, breathing no longer synchronized with the Eldest’s, continuing over the Eldest’s wordless protest, “No, Kir, you are not going to the Trial room unless you start burning this courtyard to the point of damage. Here, others could reach you with their extinguishing spells, should they need to. That Trial room? The only one who could get to you would be Jaina, and she is not here, or Kari, and he is exhausted. You can let your fires burn, and not have to struggle to keep yourself alive.”

“Is there anything I can bring the two of you?” Lumira asked, rather than get diverted by the realization that the rumors of the Eldest using the Trial room as a safeguard were apparently accurate, how absolutely terrifying.

“I believe I heard someone mention headache tea?” Her Eminence said, smiling wearily, “It could not hurt.”

“I will bring some,” Lumira agreed, “And convince your guards to wait in the kitchen, Your Eminence, so you have fewer things to worry about, Eldest.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice less hoarse than it had been, at least.

“Yes, thank you,” Her Eminence echoed, adding, “It is known where I am – if anyone comes looking for me, could their presence be passed along?”

“Of course,” Lumira agreed, turning away and wondering if she could convince one of the guardsmen to wait in the main hall to serve as relay or if she would have to lurk there herself until someone else made it back from their missions. She would ask Maltin to manage it, but depending on who came looking for Her Eminence, the student might be overwhelmed, and he had already had a stressful few days.

“Her Eminence plans to remain here for the forseeable future,” she informed the soldiers, “To minimize risk, they ask that you wait indoors.”

They didn’t argue, so that was one issue taken care of. Now for the remaining Ari knew how many.

“Well, looks like you’re right, Devin, being a mage does count as being Talented.”

“How many fish do you think we need to get Kari to take us on a Jump? Just a short one!”

“Does this mean we can say Her Eminence is an aunt?”

“NO!”

Chapter Text

Justicar Jeryl was a very efficient man, and watching him churn through writing sixteen identical sets of orders, sign and seal everything all while he briefed the veritable swarm of Sunsguard and acolytes set to be runners was, frankly, impressive. Anur had no real idea how he compared to the other First Order Justicars of Fourth Court, but he nonetheless didn’t doubt that they had lucked out in the Justicar who’d picked up this case.

Right now, the runners had been sent off on their missions and the office had gone from too crowded to breathe to only a little tight and they were listening to Garth Nolans give a detailed description of the incident he’d decided on regarding Darius Vars. By Maude’s grim but unsurprised expression, his sister had already heard about the events Garth had summarized with the crimes of extortion, murder, and, via hearsay and noting a woman’s disappearance, if not seeing her body himself, an additional murder.

The careful outline of exactly how he had collected the vanished woman’s report, warned her of the potential consequences of filing the report and raising a fuss over her husband’s disappearance, filed it on her behalf when she insisted regardless with all possible precautions taken only to find it was useless, the report was handed directly to Vars by the former Captain of the Outer Eighth to ‘investigate’, since it was known that he had been involved in the ‘initial inquiries’ to the husband’s disappearance – it was appalling. It was horrifying to think of everything that the Oathbreaker and his associates had gotten away with over the years, and Anur wanted to ask why Garth Nolans hadn’t gone straight to the Courts himself, but unfortunately he knew that answer.

Two Sunsguard and one Justicar compromised in Fourth Court, according to the Oathbreaker – and who knew how many had been caught earlier in the year or transferred out at one point or another. That was one phrasing he would have to make sure Justicar Jeryl accounted for in his follow-up questions, the ‘willing co-conspirators’ phrasing he had used had likely only caught those who were currently active; any that had been lost in some way, be that transfer or death, would have escaped being listed. Not something to point out just now, but definitely something that would be needed going forward

He had thought that implementing the reforms’ new laws and following through on now-enforced ones was moving along nicely this year; perhaps it was, in the avenues he was consciously aware of. Hells, with literal centuries to overturn, things were moving along nicely. But that didn’t feel like enough – it wasn’t enough, even if it was all they could truly manage. Certainly all he and Kir could truly manage to keep track of; City Guard had never been something he was overly exposed to, even in Valdemar, and only three cities in Karse were large enough to have a chapter of Sunsguard separate from the bandit hunters and roving Justicars. Inquiring after City Guard specific issues hadn’t even occurred to him.

There was so much to do, still. It was literally impossible for himself and Kir – even for the whole of the Firestarting Order! – to be involved in every part of the ongoing and coming reforms. That didn’t make it any easier to hear about horrible people that had very nearly gone free, that had gone free for so very many years, and the innocents who suffered for it.

He was glad Kir wasn’t listening to this, was still focused on flammability mitigation. Hopefully Anur could get away with a less in-depth summary when it came time to fill Kir in on what he had missed, at least until he’d properly recovered from today’s disaster. His brother’s guilt-complex was far too well-developed and deeply ingrained.

His own was nothing to sneer at –

Kir had once admitted to him that he sometimes imagined he heard voices in fire, imagined that fire had feelings and thoughts and desires, rather than being simply something that is. Anur had admitted in the same conversation that Kir’s mental presence against his own felt like fire, crackling and warm. They had laughed about it, and Kir had wondered if perhaps they could use that to somehow let Anur hear fire as Kir did one day. With the revelation of sun-blessed steel singing, Anur had almost been hoping they would be able to manage something.

He had never wanted it to be permanent, though. To hear the roar of something like the Comb fire with anything other than his actual ears – it sounded like a nightmare waiting to happen. When he had dared to imagine it, to ask Kir what that sort of inferno ‘sounded’ like to his brother’s senses, he still doubted his ideas had gotten anywhere close.

The sudden flurry-spark-roar of Kir’s mind against his was so loud.

“Bellamy?” Jaina’s voice echoed as if she were far away, but he felt a hand on his shoulder that was undoubtedly her. “Are you all right? Is something wrong with Kir?”

“He’s – back in the Hall. I think,” Anur managed, Aelius’ mental presence feeling shaken and blindsided too, so his Companion couldn’t help relay or interpret, “Backlash, from the fire suppression.”

:Kir? Kari?:

:We are in the Hall’s courtyard,: Kari relayed, sounding truly exhausted now, :We are not more injured than we were. This is that backlash, as you guessed. I do not think I will be able to help the Captain tonight.:

:He has sun-blessed steel, and we might even be able to get him a shielded necklace of some sort as a stop-gap. He will be helped, Kari, even if he needs to wait another day,: Anur assured him, feeling a guilty pang nonetheless because Captain Marghi had lived with this burden so long already, the thought of having to delay aid hurt.

:We will get him help,: Kir promised, voice barely audible as words over the deafening roar of fire, :It just – might have to be delayed, as much as I hate that.:

:Can the healers get to you?: Anur demanded, realizing he was on his knees and accepting Jaina’s aid getting to his feet, not objecting when she immediately started guiding him to a chair.

:I don’t know,: Kir admitted, :Probably?:

:We can spare Hansa, if you need,: Anur said, :Remember, I can cast second stage truth spell and just need a decoy to point to.:

:We might have to – oh, Lumira is here. And Solaris?:

:Then we’ll wait on swapping Cats, but keep me posted. Healers need to get to you, Kir. That is non-negotiable.:

:Yes, yes, stop fussing.:

:I have not yet begun to fuss,: Anur promised.

“That was similar, to when you said the trap sprang,” Nolans said, Anur twitching at the switch in mediums and huffing a laugh as he refocused on the room he was physically in.

“Not as bad,” Anur replied wryly, “I didn’t stop breathing this time. Apologies. I’m fine. It won’t happen again. Today, at least.”

“Your and Kir’s mental connection?” Jaina asked quietly, expression tight, “This is a side effect?”

“The only reason it happened is because of that connection, yes, but this is more – I could tell, when Kir was working to suppress flames,” Anur replied, keeping his voice low, as Jeryl was asking Garth a clarifying question. He hadn’t lost much time to whatever had happened, at least.

“It didn’t feel… right. I could tell it was a strain, a struggle. When the trap sprang, it was – overwhelmingly loud, I suppose is the best way to say it. Couldn’t figure out if I was the one hurt and with the breath knocked out of me or Kir was. This was more – that strained silence is gone, and loudly so. Abruptly so. Stunned, again, though not confused, not to the same degree. Kir is fine, Jaina.”

“I can worry about both of you, you realize,” she said tartly, “This more of a mental Talent thing or a joint Voice side effect?”

“The latter,” Anur admitted, grimacing, “Seras really didn’t mention anything to you?”

“Not to me,” Jaina confirmed, echoing his expression, “We’ll have to ask tonight. It’s certainly a consequence we’ll need to keep in mind if that Hunting Rite is ever to be used again.”

“There are side effects to the Rite beyond those called down on the target?” Justicar Jeryl inserted, Anur and Jaina swiveling to look at him. He was handing Garth Nolans his record of the man’s testimony for verification and a signature, but was watching the two of them.

“We don’t know,” Anur admitted freely, running a hand down his face, “It’s not – to be perfectly honest, Justicar, Kir reinvented the thing. He prefers to say he rediscovered it, but there are no records of the actual mechanics of the old version of the Rite that anyone has managed to find. There are references to its use, some sidelong references to what it can do or what materials are needed, but other than that? Nothing.”

“Oh I know,” the man replied, smiling wryly, “We Justicars study it as part of our training – “

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, Jaina going to open it after Jeryl nodded and stepping aside to let Justicar Mattis and two familiar Sunsguard step through, the Justicar looking properly furious and with no trace of the Kir-strength tea he had been carrying.

“All three are secured?” Jeryl asked, voice sharp.

“All three are secured,” Justicar Mattis confirmed through gritted teeth, “And far too many came to me afterwards to report coercion. Your squad with the other three for follow up questioning arrived and were dispersed per the usual, no reported difficulties, that black-robe that came with them is writing out his testimony. Have you questioned the Oathbreaker yet?”

“No, and won’t for some time, I have more testimonies to collect here,” Jeryl replied, eyes narrowing, “Do you need some information out of him urgently?”

“A list of all individuals involved in his schemings in Fourth Court, including those unwilling and including those no longer here – you prioritized willing conspirators, I agree with it, but we need additional information. Also a list of willing conspirators active in the other Courts, this is going to be a sector spanning mess, Jeryl and we need to get as many of his sort out of positions to take authority and silence witnesses. Also, this truth compulsion you mentioned, how long is it available?”

:The remainder of today, certainly. Going forward we will have to limit it to designated marks,: Hansa said.

Anur didn’t want to speak of it, but he remembered what Cristan had claimed to have found. He had no idea if whatever the man had found was actually a legitimate spell or not, if it worked even, but if it did work the way the madman had described it to Kir – it had sounded like a first stage truth spell that non-Heraldic mages could use.

“Either of you familiar with a rover named Cristan? Died a few years ago,” Anur asked, Jaina wincing as she walked back over, apparently remembering how that name had first come up, but both Justicars shook their heads, looking politely puzzled. Lieutenant Jergen, however, grimaced deeply, and they all caught it.

“Lieutenant Jergen?” Mattis prompted.

“I ran across him once, I believe, Your Holinesses, Lieutenant-Enforcer. He was… very inconsistent, in his methods.”

“He was insane,” Anur said flatly, glad he could press his hands against the arms of the chair Jaina had shoved him into, because otherwise they’d be shaking, “But he mentioned having a spell that would let him know if someone spoke the truth, though it did not compel speaking the truth, nor did it force the individual to speak. I never knowingly saw that spell in action, and we never found records of it when we looked. Not particularly thoroughly, I will admit, because the man did not exactly inspire confidence in his coherence. Do either of you know of such a spell?”

“Not a mage, no idea,” Justicar Mattis frowned, glancing Jeryl’s way, “Though I would think we would use it, if it existed.”

“Not if it had cost too heavy to allow,” Jeryl replied mildly, eyes tight, “You say this Cristan actually used it?”

“It exists?” Anur asked, feeling rather wary. He had apparently had that spell cast on him, after all, and from tone and phrasing… that spell was not one anyone sane would actually use.

“Oh it does,” Jeryl said, expression going truly grim now, “And repeated use splinters the caster’s mind. The way it works is by linking one mind to another, allowing the caster to sense that lie being told, but it doesn’t do it well or safely. Or if it ever did, the safeguards are long gone in the records I’m aware of. Once, even twice, perhaps. But he would be less able to feel that feedback, after repeated use. As he kept going, he would need stronger emotional reactions to register it as functional, and that is aside from the side-effects of having repeated interaction with another person’s mind without safeguards in place – which are dire, in and of themselves.”

:…is this why people with powerful mental Talents are better at the Truth Spell?: Anur asked, fascinated despite his own horror. Experiencing strong emotional reactions, yes, that was one way to describe torture victims.

:Likely so. I suspect the spell was designed for exactly that skillset – mages with mind Talents,: Aelius mused, :We need a copy. We’ll have a Herald-Mage capable of testing it eventually. Healers have reached Kir, currently assessing.:

“Not an option, then,” Mattis was saying, while Anur barely managed not to physically sigh in relief at Aelius’ news, “Disappointing, I suppose, but if I had found out there was a truth compulsion we weren’t using for some reason I didn’t agree with, I’d be even more furious, so fair enough. We’ll need to time things carefully.”

“The Oathbreaker didn’t hesitate to list out all his willing co-conspirators,” Jeryl pointed out, watching as Lieutenant Jergen and Patrolman Henkel hauled the man in question to his feet, “While verification under truth compulsion would only be sensible, for an initial emergency triage list, his initial response would at least get us started.”

:The list for current in Fourth Court was short – has it been verified under truth compulsion?: Aelius asked, :If he gives the exact same list under truth compulsion as without they might not even need one for him. Confirmed no lung puncture or broken bones.:

:Thank the Sunlord, and a good question,: Anur replied, relaying the suggestion and when it played out as hoped – the exact same list, the exact same order even, as the first time Jeryl had asked that question – he was entirely unsurprised by the intrigued expressions on both the Justicars’ faces.

“Incapable of lying, at least for the moment,” Mattis murmured, “I wonder – is that a consequence of Namelessness? Or the Rite you mentioned, Lieutenant-Enforcer? I assume they are distinct?”

“He was declared Nameless as part of the Rite, but you could have one without the other,” Anur replied, remembering Anika’s denunciations and determinedly not fretting over the fact Kir’s mental presence was still veering towards inferno even after the healers had apparently examined him, “As for the lack of lying, I have no idea. We only used the Rite once before, and the target was dead at the end of it. I think we questioned one of the Nameless in the other group though… yes, we did, but they were under truth compulsion at the time, we had no reason to ask without one.”

:I see no reason why he would start being capable of lying again,: Hansa broadcast, jumping up to sit on a cleared corner of Jeryl’s desk and glancing between the Justicars. :Removing one’s name has a tendency to remove a sense of self – which removes self-preservation, self-interest – and without those, what reason would they have to lie?:

“What?” Anur hissed, ignoring the startled looks sent his way, because that was a side effect there had never been a hint of, and he could already see so very many ways that sort of lack could go terribly wrong, “What do you mean, declaring one Nameless removes all sense of self – including self-preservation?”

:Exactly that,: Hansa said, head tilting to one side and to all appearances confused as to why exactly Anur found that concept so very horrifying, :They can no longer be named, and are no longer persons. Self-interest in various forms is the fundamental motivator for so very many actions, including lies. While he is physically and mentally capable of lying or hesitating over his words, he is no longer emotionally capable of doing so; he has no motivation for it.:

 “Nameless One ran,” Anur retorted.

:But he did not try to conceal his path or cover his tracks – and he stopped for comfortable quarters, rather than riding through the night or leaving roads entirely as he should have, if truly escaping had been his intent, though I suppose he had no reason to truly think he had been caught unless he tried to introduce himself. It is intended to make them easier to find, frankly.:

“And potentially reckless enough to slaughter a massive number of people in their immediate surroundings because they have an impulsive desire to and no reason to hold back any longer since consequences no longer matter to them,” Anur said through gritted teeth, “Because someone with a knife can do that in the right crowd, forget someone with magic. Are there any safeguards from that?”

At least now he wasn’t the only one looking horrified. Even Hansa had his ears flat against his skull, and the Justicars looked practically nauseous.

:…I am uncertain,: Hansa admitted finally.

“Well then, no one is using that Rite unless there is literally no other option, there are far too many ways it can go terribly wrong,” Anur decided, remembering that one Levin-bolt this one had thrown, that one attack that could so very easily have been scaled-up by someone with no sense of self-preservation, with no ability to think forward to consequences and plan out how to avoid them and having to choke down bile, because that could have gone so wrong and he and Kir had never even thought of that potential catastrophe, “Justicars, please, please push that opinion with your colleagues and emphasize that the Rite is unpredictable and dangerous, we will do additional research and gladly keep you in the loop, but please emphasize to anyone reading your reports or hearing your verbal descriptions that this Rite is dangerous to the people who use it and random bystanders, please.”

“I will gladly do so – wait, I’m sorry, it is dangerous for the person calling it down as well?” Jeryl asked, looking more alarmed than grim now, “How so? The joint Voice manifestation you mentioned, but while that is certainly unheard of I wouldn’t think it would be harmful…”

“Kir and my version of consequences for users is complicated by other issues,” Anur brushed off any concerns about the joint Voice manifestation or the mental connection he and his brother shared. They would have to elaborate on it eventually, but it wasn’t germane now. What was, however, was the reason he called this Rite dangerous in the first place. Why Kir had never dared test it before it was truly, desperately needed to hunt down Nameless One.

“But for more general cases… Justicar, this Rite is a literal cry for judgment, and as Kir described those to me, you had best be damn certain in the claim you are making, certain enough to stake your own life and soul on it. There’s a reason he reinvented the thing and never so much as considered testing it out before it was well and truly needed.”

Jaina’s grip on his shoulder was practically bruising.

“Stake your own life and soul on it?” Garth Nolans quoted, sounding horrified and stunned beyond measure, the Justicars looking more than a little pale themselves, “You – why would you – you did that. Why?”

“It needed to be done,” Anur said, meeting the man’s eyes as he said it.

“You only had my word for that,” he objected, voice faint.

Anur did not waver, because this was important, but he couldn’t quite help his smile.

“I did tell you that your word would be enough,” he said, feeling almost whimsical, before continuing more briskly, “Besides, I had far more than your word. I had three enchanted bracelets, none of which were intended for innocent purposes, and I very deliberately worded my denunciations to target the crafter of said bracelets, rather than any named individual.”

“Usage of threes, oh Seras is going to be so furious he missed it,” Jaina murmured, releasing his shoulder and shaking her head.

“I – have additional questions, but they will wait,” Justicar Jeryl admitted, exchanging a speaking glance with Mattis.

“We’ll have to coordinate our list of questions,” the other Justicar said, sounding thoughtful, “For the moment, I’ll get started on this name gathering, perhaps get some initial questions asked of those reporting coercion if you haven’t shown up by the time I get the list written out.”

“My thanks, Mattis,” Jeryl said, the quartet leaving the office and Anur at least feeling immediately more at ease, with the Oathbreaker’s blankly staring visage absent.

Justicar Jeryl turned to him again, glancing between him and Jaina before finally speaking, very clearly choosing his words carefully, “While I agree with your hesitation over spreading the Rite’s implementation far and wide, people are going to hear of it. Justicars are going to hear of it, and we studied that Rite – as magecraft long lost, as something we could reconstruct, if only someone had recorded the proper spells. You are going to have a line of Justicars wrapping the District knocking down your door for knowledge of that Rite.”

“Not helped at all by the persistent rumors that we had the Rite hoarded away in our Halls as some sort of ridiculous power play,” Jaina agreed grimly, “Fortunately Seras’ connections with the other archivists ensured those rumors started dying out, but this is going to start them up again.”

:Of course it is,: Anur thought sourly, mostly for lack of being able to express that sentiment aloud right now, no matter how badly he wanted to, :And the ones who believe it most are going to be impossible to convince otherwise, damn it all.:

:We don’t need to convince the true believers, we need to convince the ones on the fence. Transparency, Chosen, just like with this investigation. Hmm. The Justicar is going to need your and Kir’s testimony, yes? Drag whichever of Solaris’ council is in charge of monitoring the Justicar side of things, have Ulrich and Seras sitting in as archivists, give them a chance to sit down with the pair of you as a group to go through what the Hunting Rite reconstruction is and how Kir went about rebuilding it. Kir?:

:I can manage that,: Kir said wearily, though at least his mental presence was approaching house fire instead of crown fire inferno of death, :Etrius and Seras have been combing the books I named as references, they can help.:

:And we can distract them from the fact Etrius almost died,: Aelius pointed out, :Seras promising to ask before he murders anyone is all well and good, but his student was very nearly killed in some sort of power play scheme. He’s not going to be rational about it.:

:That would have been – so terrible. Fuck that can still be so terrible,: Anur realized anew, able to imagine so very easily what Seras would have done if Etrius had been killed. What their Order would have been torn apart trying to manage, if Etrius had been killed, and if Rodri had died with him... a thousand blessings on Rodri’s pistachio incident, because Sunlord they would have shattered.

“ –  will admit to asking Holiness Valerik about it after the first few times of working with him,” Jeryl was saying, huffing a laugh, “He laughed at me, said every Justicar he’d ever worked with asked him about it. When he spoke of it, it sounded as though he hardly believed it had ever existed.”

“A common consensus,” Jaina said sardonically, before shooting Anur a truly amused look, “At least until you and Kir mentioned it. It took Seras well over a week to realize that Rite involving the Oathbreaker you two mentioned that first visit to Sunhame was potentially a version of the Hunting Rite. I heard him swearing from the office.”

“He certainly seemed far more fanatical about our records in the later visits,” Anur replied, turning back to the Justicar and saying, “Right. You need to gather testimony from myself and Kir, as well as Jaina, correct?”

“Ah – yes. At some point. All the Firestarters involved, actually, at least in part.”

“Which would be literally all of them, at least in part,” Anur said wryly, “So perhaps bring an assistant or two. But – Jaina, is there any time within the Conclave that can be set aside for that testimony gathering?”

“Midafternoon to Descending are free tomorrow,” Jaina said, “That’s three marks. We could shave out some of the morning to give a solid four marks. Would that suit, Justicar?”

“Yes, quite well, thank you,” Jeryl said, scrawling a note to that effect off to one side, pausing mid word when Anur continued with the actual motivation for his self-evident statement.

“Make sure you do arrange assistants of some sort then, and if you cannot be spared from that effort, another ranking Justicar. We’ll have some of the archivists, Holiness Larschen and whatever Justicar you can spare to help figure out what coherent and relevant statement needs to be issued to the Justicars to explain the Rite’s reconstruction and potentially horrifying consequences.”

“Oh that’s definitely going to be me,” Jeryl muttered as he scrawled something to that effect down, probably not meaning to be heard.

Jaina was raising an eyebrow at him, but he raised one right back, because he had every right to make that call. If he and Kir sat down to explain the Rite to the Justicar tomorrow, everyone he intended to ensure was present was the sort of curious who would wade through raw sewage to be there, with the possible exception of Holiness Larschen. The man taught some of the Justicar focused courses in Sunhame, though, and from Jeryl and Mattis’ reaction to the whole thing, Anur rather doubted Larschen would be any less determined to hear what Kir had to say.

“That will work well, thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Jeryl said more clearly, visibly setting that matter aside before focusing on the Nolans siblings again, “My apologies for the diversions. Mistress Nolans, I have your brother’s most immediate relevant testimony, though not written just yet, and have many more questions for him and likely yourself as well as this investigation into the Oathbreaker and Vars’ affairs continue. For today, however, I will restrict my questions to the events of the last few days. One of those bracelets the Enforcer burned was the one placed on you?”

“Yes, Your Holiness. My brother told me last week that the Oathbreaker had tried to recruit him for a job and he had told the man to get lost, putting it politely, but two nights ago he showed up at our door regardless…”

Anur had heard Garth’s version of events, and while he was certain Maude’s would differ in some details, he doubted any truly new information would come up – at least, nothing truly new that Hansa or Justicar Jeryl wouldn’t catch on their own. He kept his gaze on the group, but focused on Aelius, prompting, :You said the Healers saw Kir and no puncturing or broken bones, but what’s the rest?:

:They’ve confirmed that the only remaining damage is mental strain from his Talent usage and bruising – though some of the bruises are deep, none are life threatening. A healer was able to reduce some of the inflammation caused by said mental strain, and both request seeing him later, when he isn’t surrounded by fire and unable to control it entirely, to see what aid they can offer on those more minor injuries.:

:Thank the Sunlord,: Anur replied, :Now to make sure he actually takes advantage of that request.:

:For the record,: Kir inserted, mental presence finally getting back to the crackling warmth it should be, instead of strained, too taut silence or a deafening roar, :I am not going to object. Though I suppose you’ll still insist on Healer Joss getting called in when we’re northwards again?:

:Yes, yes I will, because I actually know that Healer Joss knows what he’s doing. I have no idea what sort of training these Sunhame healers have, and besides that, Joss knows your medical history and the sorts of instructions he needs to give! These healers have no idea what our duties actually entail, they can’t frame post-injury care instructions properly,: Anur retorted with none of the sharpness his reply could have held. He was too relieved that Kir was safe again, even though he did make a note of the fact Kir could apparently now overhear him and Aelius talking regardless of there being physical contact between any of them. Something to worry about later.

:Fine, fine,: Kir muttered, :How is testimony gathering going?:

:Shouldn’t you be resting?: Anur tried dodging.

:I am resting. I’m in the courtyard of the Hall with Kari and Solaris, and she just finished dodging my utterly reasonable questions about what in the frosted hells is Grevenor’s problem. Anur it’s so loud.:

:Easy, all right,: Anur murmured, wincing. He would bet that was due to backlash as well, even if he wasn’t perceiving any of what Kir was any longer. Kir had spent the past mark or so trying his damndest to keep everything utterly silent and still, at least as much as that was possible, whereas now he was doing none of that and fires were swarming – yes, Anur could imagine that to Kir’s mind, it was very loud. He wanted a distraction.

How fortunate. He had so many distractions to choose from. Start with the basics, see how long he could stretch those, and hopefully he could avoid giving Kir any additional nightmare fuel just yet. That could wait until they talked in person.

:We’ve sent messengers with explanations of what is going on to every Sector Station with instructions on where to forward testimonies from those the Oathbreaker held under some form of coercion, or any connected cases. Orders for Darius Vars’ arrest have also been issued, specifically to Seventh and Eighth Sectors, and there is mention of him in the orders for the others – something about a sketch or detailed description being necessary for the official warrants for those sectors. Three willing co-conspirators here in Fourth Court have been arrested and detained by another Justicar. Maude Nolans is here – Jaina is too, by the way – and Maude is currently giving her version of events in the past few days involving the Oathbreaker. Sounds like Jaina was in the middle of dismantling the groundwork spells on Maude when your half of the manifestation took care of things.:

:How dramatic,: Kir said, sounding wry, :Though I suppose Seras will be pleased to have a close-up perspective on hand.:

:He could probably write quite the sprawling case study on this, they’re going to be unraveling things for moons at the very least – that Darius Vars I mentioned? Sounds like a piece of work, for one, and was formerly Garth Nolans’ Sergeant, the entire squad was dishonorably discharged before the formal rules and such came down. Nolans was his Corporal.:

:Sounds hellish in general, but for someone apparently moral? Even worse,: Aelius murmured, tone sympathetic.

:Definitely does,: Anur agreed, watching as Maude Nolans accepted the paper holding her own testimony for review, though she tilted it so her brother could read it over her shoulder.

:True,: Kir said, continuing :You said the whole squad was discharged before the official guidelines came down?:

:Yes, the timing of which was apparently used by the former Captain of the Outer Eighth as a reason to deny Garth Nolans an appeal,: Anur said, grimacing even as he said it because he could easily predict Kir’s reaction to that but he couldn’t avoid the question –

:That. Is. Illegal.:

Teeth-gritting fury, as expected.

:I know,: Anur said, feeling his own anger at that particular portion of the situation surge to the forefront, :I know, Kir. He’s getting his appeal, Jeryl sounds positively gleeful about it, and we can set someone on reviewing all the discharges in the past year and confirming they weren’t denied the chance.:

:His reputation has been ruined!: Kir raged, Anur hoping that if Kir was still in the Hall’s courtyard, someone was keeping an eye on things to know if Kari needed to drag him to the Trial room instead – or that Kir’s insistence that the Hall was more resistant than most buildings to fire was based on more than stories. :Bad enough he actually did terrible things, that he was coerced, and blackmailed, and made into a monster. Forced to stand by and watch as others were molded into monsters. But to have a chance to speak out stolen from him? To have it denied, and undoubtedly have the word spread that he had never bothered to try and clear his name, that he had as good as confirmed his guilt, his wretchedness? That is against everything we ever - !:

:Kir! Kir, I agree with you. I agree with you. There will be an investigation into this, we will do what we can to ensure no one else fell into this trap, and he will have a chance to go forward, to truly go forward, without Vars and the Oathbreaker to drag him down. Kir, please. You see an echo of what the Firestarters are facing in his situation, and I see it too. I see it, Kir. I won’t let this be forgotten. I swear to you. Brother. You are hurting, you are exhausted. Please rest.:

:Sorry. Sorry, Anur, I – I am so tired right now. It’s so loud.:

:Well I need to pay attention to what we’re doing next. Will listening in on my work be enough of a distraction?: Anur asked, :Or do you need active conversation?:

:Can I even listen in that way?: Kir asked, sounding dubious.

:You responded to what I said to Aelius when neither of us were broadcasting it at all and we’re quite far apart, you very well might,: Anur said, wanting to wince at the way Kir’s mind went quiet. Not still, not the way his fire suppression methods had made him quiet, but not comfortable. Not the usual.

:You did say scar aggravation might change my Talent,: Kir finally admitted, sounding intensely uncomfortable, :I don’t want it to.:

:It might not be scar aggravation either,: Aelius pointed out, :You two just went through another joint Voice manifestation, and the first one was what started this whole permanent mental awareness of one another business in the first place, some sort of increase in awareness of one another might be due to that.:

:Sounds like we might need to do shielding modifications,: Anur said ruefully, remembering something else and relaying, :Jaina sounded very surprised by the joint Voice business, by the way. Seems Seras never mentioned it to her.:

:Likely wanted to wait to see what he could find in our archives. Might have found something and decided to wait for the Conclave to tell us, but the way our winter has gone, I doubt it,: Kir replied dully, before detectably shaking off his mood with the utterly bizarre mental sensation Anur’s senses translated to a flurry of sparks and saying, :Right. I will try and keep an ear out for you, Anur, because I do need the distraction, but if that isn’t sufficient – Aelius?:

:Oh I can most definitely handle distraction,: Aelius promised, sounding gleeful, :Has Anur ever told you about the time with the luminescent moss out by Rethwellen?:

:Not a word!:

:Well we can’t let that stand, do make sure I tell you about it sometime this winter if we don’t get to it today.:

:You are both the worst,: Anur said fondly, shaking his head slightly at the sheer glee both of his mental partners were radiating at the mention of that story and finally properly focusing on the rest of the room. Jaina was just finishing signing her own name to the record of Maude Nolans’ testimony, apparently as an additional witness that it was in fact accurate. He would have to ask someone for a general summary of Justicar policy, it was a definite gap in his and Kir’s knowledge.

“And I can collect your statement tomorrow, Holiness Jaina,” Jeryl reiterated, signing the papers himself and neatly stacking them together, gaze sweeping the room briefly before focusing on the Nolans siblings and saying, “Technically speaking, you two are both free to go, so long as you stop by Marya’s desk and declare an official time within the next three days where you will appear for follow up questions. Practically speaking, Garth Nolans I would prefer you stay here, at least until I’ve completed a first round of questioning with the Oathbreaker. And if Vars is hauled in today I’d appreciate your assistance there as well. I want to have a reference I don’t need to trick answers out of for the initial charges.”

The siblings exchanged a long glance before Maude spoke, saying, “I will need to leave immediately then, and will set up a time to return, Your Holiness. Though I realize timing is dependent on whether or not Vars is caught today, would it be possible to have an estimate on when Garth would leave?”

“We are – have the bells for Sixth Day rung yet?” Jeryl asked the room, and by the way everyone stared back at him blankly, no one had been paying attention.

:Not yet, Chosen. I’d guess we’re half till Sixth.:

“Not yet,” Anur relayed, not passing on his Companion’s more specific guess. Making that estimate on his own wouldn’t be believable, especially not after that round of blank staring. Abruptly, their morning plan for the day flashed across his mind and he snorted, “So much for working on that golden fire with Maltin at Eighth.”

:Cursed,: Kir insisted.

:Definitely not cursed,: Anur retorted, though at this point it was only out of habit.

:Cursed. Two against one, Chosen. Majority rules.:

:Excuse you, we are living in a theocracy. Majority doesn’t always win!:

:…the priest voted against you,: Aelius said slowly.

:…shut up,: Anur grumbled, Kir and Aelius both giggling at him, the bastards.

“…Perhaps next year we can have the Conclave out of Sunhame,” Jaina grimaced.

“I will back that proposal to the hilt,” Anur promised, “Kir will definitely agree. Right, apologies, Justicar. Time estimate?”

“I would say First Evening at the latest, for when you would be leaving Fourth Court,” Jeryl said, speaking directly to Garth but glancing his sister’s way as he continued, “Possibly earlier, but definitely by then.”

“That is fine with me,” Garth said, checking in with his sister and at her nod, asking, “You’ll be at the market till Second Eve unless you sell out of everything, right?”

“Right,” she confirmed.

“Then I’ll accompany you back to the market, Mistress Nolans,” Jaina said, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, “Then go to the Outer Eighth Sector Station and pass along the fact Val has been found, unless they’ve been informed of that in some other way?”

“Not consciously on my part, but they might have picked up on something,” Anur said after a few moments of thinking that over, “If you need me for anything or have something we should be aware of quickly, Kari relay should work.”

“Agreed,” Jaina said briskly, all of them rising to their feet, “You need to be back at the Hall by Descending at the latest.”

“Hopefully sooner, but understood,” Anur said, holding the door for both of the women and not seeing any sign of someone waiting for the Justicar, so he shut the door behind them and turned back to the remaining two, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the Justicar sitting down again and rummaging in his desk drawers.

“What comes next, Justicar?” he asked, feeling properly bemused when the man triumphantly pulled out a… bag of roasted pistachios.

“Pistachios,” Anur said, running a hand down his face and huffing a laugh, “Of all the nuts for you to store in your office.”

“Oh,” the man said, pausing in the middle of pouring pistachios into a bowl, “That – didn’t even occur to me. At least they have a relatively high value, selling the surplus pistachios that survived will help counteract the cost of damages.”

Handing the bowl to Garth Nolans, who took it with an amusingly excessive amount of care, Jeryl continued, “Help yourself, I just know that I haven’t eaten since early this morning and hearing more details of this case is going to make me angry enough without adding hunger to it. There’s water in the pitcher over there and cups in the cupboard under it, help yourself to that as well. Enforcer?”

“I’ll gladly take some, it’s just… ironic, as you said,” Anur said, taking a handful from the bowl Garth offered him, the man still looking blindsided by the offer of food.

“I will admit, I never knew pistachios were risky to the same degree as flour and sawdust,” Jeryl admitted, eating his pistachios straight out of the bag.

“Raw ones are,” Anur said, smiling wryly as he went to pour water for the three of them, “I had no idea either, not until this past summer. One of the students nearly got themselves seriously hurt because of raw pistachios in a closed container. That incident prompted more intentional training on detecting flammability of nearby objects, and is likely the only reason the student in question noticed anything wrong at the charity temple today.”

“At least my desk isn’t at increased risk of catching on fire,” the Justicar muttered, accepting the cup of water Anur offered him with a murmur of thanks, Garth Nolans doing the same and actually drinking some.

“I would think your papers are more risky than your snacks,” Anur said dryly, shrugging as he went back for his own cup and took a seat again, “Where are we at for our next steps, Justicar?”

“Currently there are seven people waiting for interrogation, ideally under some form of truth compulsion,” Jeryl said, grimacing and admitting, “The Oathbreaker will undoubtedly take the longest. Do any of you have any insights or opinions on what order they should be questioned?”

“The other three you had brought here – all of those were the potential dodging of the truth compulsion?” Anur asked, wanting clarification before he offered any opinion.

“Ah, no. The priest was; the two staff members said they reported unusual storage methods and items in the storeroom and were assured it was known and a non-issue,” Jeryl said, looking thoughtful, “I suppose I can delegate their testimony, I simply wanted more details.”

“I am wary of leaving the Oathbreaker’s co-conspirators to escape,” Anur admitted, “If Justicar Mattis hasn’t finished collecting that list yet, perhaps we could start there? The priest from the temple you want to question might very well be on that list, which would form the questions you want to ask. You can always come back to the Oathbreaker later for follow up questions.”

“The Oathbreaker had lots of connections, from what I understood,” Garth Nolans added quietly, “And there were always multiple ways he or his allies could win. If I may, Your Holiness, Lieutenant-Enforcer, I would also recommend interrogating the Oathbreaker as quickly as possible, at least with respect to a list of names and his desired outcomes from this plot for immediate countering, and returning later for other questions.”

“Fair assessments, both,” Jeryl agreed, frowning as he put his pistachios away, “I will have to send one of the other Justicars to the priest, there’s a strong tendency to try and barrel through the Sunsguard if they wait too long. Very well – Master Nolans, depending on the Oathbreaker’s reaction to you, I may ask that you remain outside for gathering his testimony. Otherwise, you are welcome to listen.”

“However I can assist, Your Holiness,” Nolans replied, a polite phrase that was nonetheless honest, if Anur was any judge. The man had gone from a grim weariness bordering on exhausted despair to a cold determination to see things through that Anur recognized rather well after all these years at Kir’s side.

Nolans, he suspected, would consider himself satisfied if Vars and the Oathbreaker were brought down with as many of their co-conspirators as possible, regardless of how his appeal worked out with respect to his own prospects. Anur would have to keep a hand in, at least enough to hear how things worked out for Nolans. The Firestarting Order owed him a debt, after all.

:We’ll add it to the list,: Kir promised.

:Someone with hands needs to start writing this list down, it’s quite long,: Aelius said tartly.

Jeryl gathered a few loosely bound stacks of blank paper and some double-quill pens, Anur holding the door open again but when he shut it, Jeryl turned back and did some sort of spellwork to secure it. Only then did he lead the way back down the three flights of stairs. He led them right past the front desk, where Holiness Marya was supervising a set of acolytes writing out something, and through the same doorway she had stepped through earlier – apparently it was a gathering space for lower ranked Justicars and some Sunsguard.

One younger Justicar immediately stood on seeing them, hustling forward and murmuring an update to Jeryl. Anur could catch the gist of it – sounded as though Mattis was still collecting that list of names from the Oathbreaker, another set of Justicars were taking down statements from everyone claiming they had been coerced in some way, and no word yet from the northern charity complex or regarding Darius Vars. None of the three waiting to be questioned had been approached, but all were in secure witness rooms of what sounded like varying levels of comfort.

Justicar Jeryl took all of that in with a noncommittal hum, scanned the room once, and started snapping off orders. Watching the way the entire room shifted to accommodate his authority and hearing how those orders were handed out was a rather fascinating experience. He had seen similar acts from Kir, of course, though mostly towards Sunsguard rather than other priests, and even towards civilians in emergencies – but between priests he had never seen such an unquestioning and demanding exercise of authority. Kir had a tendency to word his orders as requests unless he had to, and seldom opened with orders unless it was urgent or he was trying to intimidate someone.

It would be interesting to see if that changed over time or not; he suspected a lot of it was simply Kir’s habit of using his authority as little as possible, cultivated over years of trying to minimize his perceived threat level to the men of the 62nd.

One priest – Second Order, visibly older but not elderly and with a habitually stern set to his features, sent to sit on the charity temple priest they were leaving for later, whose name Anur honestly couldn’t recall. A Second Order and acolyte pair sent to gather testimony from the two staff members, both of whom had expressions on the milder side – likely more reassuring and less frightening than some of the other candidates would be.

The Third Order Justicar who had summarized things for them in the first place was set back to ensuring all reports from Jeryl’s varied and widespread subordinates were placed together as relevant to one particularly complicated case rather than scattered as individual records, with an acolyte assigned to assist. They were both assured that if something urgent came up, they could of course bring it to Jeryl directly though there may be a delay. Finally, three acolytes were added to their party to serve as general errand runners within Fourth Court, seeing as these interrogations might result in immediately actionable items.

Of course, watching everyone’s eyes bounce between himself, Garth Nolans and Honored Hansa, apparently uncertain just who they should be staring at incredulously, was also highly entertaining, if not something he would call fascinating.

Down a short set of stairs and another corridor to a set of rooms evidently secured specifically for mages, with Patrolman Henkel and an unfamiliar man of the same rank guarding the half-open door, the Lieutenant and Justicar Mattis inside with the Oathbreaker, who was bound to a chair on one side of a table. Mattis looked up at their approach and grimaced, rising to his feet and stepping out of the room, pulling the door mostly shut behind him.

“How bad?” Jeryl asked grimly.

“Would you like the whole list? It is very, very long. Fortunately, I had the presence mind to ask for the list broken down by sector,” Mattis said flatly, rubbing his face, “Had one uncoerced co-conspirator in the charity temple, Lieutenant Jergen says it’s the one you hauled in.”

“Good to know,” Jeryl said, glancing at the acolytes, “One of you go and inform Justicar Miles of that.”

“He is also slightly less horrifyingly catatonic, but still shows no hesitation at answering questions. His tone is more animated, however,” Mattis continued, heaving a sigh as they watched the acolyte leave, “Do you want me to keep going with the list or go elsewhere?”

“What sectors have you gotten through? And what was your exact wording?”

“One through Six, the charity temples, all four Courts. I asked for the name and, if applicable, current job title of every individual who has ever actively and willingly worked with or for him in whichever zone I was on at the time,” Mattis replied.

“I’ll focus my questions on this particular scheme, leave the more general listings to you,” Jeryl decided, “While I get my first round of questions answered, I need you to start prioritizing who we arrest and in what order out of the names you have. I’ll send a runner to you once I’ve wrapped up so you can come back and get the rest of the names.”

“Understood,” he said, “I’ll go to my office for that – get a copy or two of the names you get, I’ll cross reference them with my own list to form a queue.”

The two Justicars exchanged nods and Mattis stalked off, papers filled with names clenched tightly in his hands, while Jeryl nudged the door fully open and led them inside. Anur shut the door behind him and Garth, the remaining acolytes already seated on a bench along the far wall, apparently well used to waiting.

All of the furniture bar the Oathbreaker’s chair was decidedly flimsy, evidently in case someone managed to try and use them as weapons. It was always interesting to see what choices or combination of choices were made there – sturdy and anchored to the floor, or lightweight and shoddily built? Here the verdict had apparently been sturdy and anchored for the chair the prisoner was bound to, and lightweight for everything else. There were a few high, narrow windows of thick glass with bars on the outside, by the shadows, and the remaining light was from anchored mage-lights embedded in the walls, rather than any sort of fire. That choice, at least, was one unavailable to Valdemar.

The Oathbreaker did seem a little less catatonic, actually looking over when they walked in, but his expression was still disturbingly blank, eyes dull, and not saying anything.

Nolans’ hands were locked behind his back, and even with the Oathbreaker clearly incapable of the taunts and mudslinging the man had undoubtedly anticipated, if not expected, his knuckles were white. Anur would keep an eye on him, and recommend that he not be brought along to the Oathbreaker’s longer interrogation. If Jeryl truly needed his insight, he could listen in from a nearby room, out of sight, or could be brought in for only a few moments to elicit whatever response was needed. Making him sit through all of the Oathbreaker’s undoubtedly extensive questioning would be needlessly cruel.

“As you are now lacking a name, you will be referred to as Oathbreaker for the duration of your questioning,” Jeryl said briskly, sitting down with his notepads and doubled-quill pens, rather than the more valuable glass pen he had used in his office. Those were often messier, why had he switched?

:Deny a potential weapon, also avoid breaking something expensive,: Aelius pointed out quietly, :Probably policy for any interrogations outside their offices.:

:Ah. Fair point,: Anur acknowledged, staying near the wall behind Justicar Jeryl with Nolans, while Hansa sat at the Justicar’s side and Lieutenant Jergen meandered his way to one of the corners behind the Oathbreaker, visibly settling in for a long wait.

“This is an initial questioning on matters deemed most urgent, and you will be placed under a truth compulsion. Honored Hansa?” Justicar Jeryl prompted, evidently deciding better safe than sorry, even after their earlier test.

:He is under Tell Me True,: Hansa reported.

“State your former position in the priesthood,” Jeryl ordered.

“Second in command of the Outer Eighth charity temple, black robe mage, Second Order,” the man said, tone completely flat.

“Former position can be stated, that is helpful,” the Justicar murmured, scrawling a note to that effect on his notepad, “State the full name and, if applicable, the job, of every individual who willingly assisted you, free of coercion, with your scheme regarding the volatiles under the Outer Eighth charity temple.”

The list was depressingly long, and included the oft-mentioned Darius Vars, and by the faint tremors running through Nolans, some of those names were surprises to him. Finagling out details of those who had been coerced would have to wait, and Anur was willing to bet this man would be living in a cell for weeks answering every possible question, especially now that they had some confirmation of Hansa’s theory that a Nameless one could no longer lie.

“Describe your preferred outcome for the scheme regarding volatiles under the Outer Eighth Charity temple,” Jeryl asked, after filling nearly a whole page with names and job titles.

“At least six children dead, Etrius and anyone he dragged along dead or crippled. Total destruction of the kitchen and dining hall, partial destruction of housing. Some buried by rubble but alive and suffering. Investigators would find traces of Firestarter Valerik’s magical signature from his destroyed foci and demand he present himself for questioning and he would be reported missing.

“His subsidiary identity as Val would be revealed, word sent to the Sector Stations. Witnesses would report seeing Garth Nolans and Val walking together and entering the underlevels. The Firestarting Order would be divided on whether or not he was innocent, and at the very least distracted by the death or crippling of their students. Temple District politics would pick up. I would insist Valerik would never do such a thing before admitting I had given him access to the wards years ago as a favor. He would be found unconscious by the docks by others, and if he survived to be brought into custody he would undoubtedly insist on his innocence.

“Garth Nolans would disappear. I would insist Vars kill him after a week if he wasn’t dead already, and have his corpse marked with severe burns before dumping it. Maude Nolans would raise a fuss over her brother’s disappearance; after enough fuss was raised, I would kill her myself or tell Vars to deal with her.”

Nolans was visibly unsurprised, and if Anur was standing any further away he would have no way of knowing the man was shaking. If Anur didn’t have training as a Mindspeaker, and specifically, Aelius’ instructions on detecting when nearby minds were agitated regardless of said minds’ Talents, he would have no way of knowing the man’s mind was screaming. The Oathbreaker was showing no recognition of Nolans even being here, and Jeryl’s notes were undoubtedly thorough. There was no need to force the man to listen to all the ways he and his sister could have died.

Leaving half an ear out for the Oathbreaker’s continued recitation of his plan, horrifyingly layered as it was, he shifted so he was blocking Nolan’s view of the Oathbreaker and waited for Nolan’s gaze to stop staring through him and actually register his presence.

“You need to breathe,” he murmured, feeling his eyes tighten as he registered the Oathbreaker’s careful delineation of all the factions of the priesthood he hoped would have taken advantage of this scheme, and how very many of them would certainly grab support from priests and priestesses who genuinely supported Solaris, but thought the Firestarters were evil and wretched and wrong. Thought they had escaped rightful punishment for their actions, and it was their job to ensure the Firestarters were disciplined, if not destroyed.

If this plot had come to fruition with Fredric Loshern in Sunhame, Anur didn’t doubt for a moment that he would be one of the ones throwing his weight behind those cries. If that tension between Grevenor and Henrik was anything besides personal, he suspected even Solaris’ Council would have ended up divided.

Kir had wanted him to serve as the Order’s witness to the investigation instead of any of the Firestarters because he was an Enforcer and therefore less fearsome to those who only saw uniforms, and because he spoke with Kir’s voice and had little to no compunctions about calling priests of all sorts of rank to task for their actions. The fact that a Firestarter hearing this would recognize some names the Oathbreaker was now giving of those priests and priestesses he knew would take advantage of his scheme, would recognize some of those names as colleagues, as friendly acquaintances or even friends, had likely not been a conscious consideration. Certainly it hadn’t been one for him.

But it was an undoubted benefit.

“It hasn’t happened,” he said quietly, Nolans’ now-actually-happening breathing distinctly ragged, “It won’t happen. Do you want to leave? There are chairs in the corridor, you can wait this out.”

A few longer breaths, attempts at answering that were choked off, before finally the man nodded. Anur gave the others in the room a quick glance, but neither of the men nor Hansa showed any sign of objection. He caught Lieutenant Jergen’s eye, noted the man’s grim expression, jerked his head towards the door and didn’t say anything further when the Lieutenant nodded, undoubtedly having seen and probably heard everything.

:Kari, tell Jaina that Maude Nolans might be at risk still, as the Oathbreaker’s plan included either killing her himself or sending Vars after her,: Anur said, opening the door and pushing Nolans out ahead of him, the soldiers at the door taking one look at their faces and grimacing.

“One of those interrogations, great,” Henkel said, watching Nolans slump in a chair and bury his face in his hands, the two acolytes still waiting for their orders eyeing the man with half-fascinated sympathy.

“Questioning him thoroughly is going to take moons,” Anur muttered, squeezing Nolans’ shoulder and saying, “You going to be all right here?”

“I’ll be fine,” the man managed.

“Sent word to Jaina about what he said, she’ll keep an eye out,” Anur assured him, feeling some of the other man’s tension leave and nodding to himself before heading back into the cell. He’d keep more conscious attention on the sound levels in the hall in case Nolans needed some sort of backup, but he had been sent here as a witness – he could hardly leave the Oathbreaker’s testimony half-heard, appalling as it was.

“This joint Voice manifestation business sounds… rather worrying, to be honest.”

“The whole Rite sounds worrying, no one seems to know anything about it.”

“Let’s focus on important things here – where is next year’s Conclave going to be?”

“Battlefield in the middle of Hardorn.”

“…I was hoping for a more lighthearted answer, Lukas.”

“Have you been listening to the same letter as the rest of us?!”

Chapter Text

Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Olya and Rodri led. Svon’s there. That’s everyone, Etrius realized, glancing at Sable and murmuring, “You get the right count?”

“Forty-seven children, three total staff, two priests-in-training,” Sable recited, having definitely been reciting that as an under-her-breath mantra as they walked, her shoulders easing, “That’s all of them. Do we follow or are we splitting up at this point?”

“Neither,” he heard, giving a relieved sigh as he turned to face Father Seras. He hadn’t known for certain who was going where, but had hoped his mentor would be the one to meet them. Mostly he had hoped his mentor wasn’t involved in the trap dismantling process, but he would never admit that out loud. Not when Rodri’s mentor was smack in the middle of it and utterly irreplaceable to the endeavor.

“Father Seras,” Etrius said, stepping into his mentor’s fierce hug and completely unashamed to return it, “I am so glad you’re here.”

“As if I would let anyone else take this job,” Father Seras scoffed, stepping back and tucking his hands back into his sleeves, entirely professional once again, “Obric is explaining what is happening to them, I’m certain you can receive a briefing on fallout duties later, Mistress Sable, but a Fourth Court Justicar arrived just before you did and wishes to get your testimony before any of you hear things you don’t already know.”

Rodri jogged over in time to hear that last bit, having been helping carry some of the younger children who’d grown tired en route, and hesitated visibly before asking, “Can we know if anyone got hurt?”

“No one died,” Seras assured him sympathetically, “Or is badly injured. I’m certain there are bruises and the like, but nothing terrible. I’m sure Kari can give a more detailed update once you’ve given your statement.”

“Okay,” Rodri whispered, still looking more anxious than relieved. Etrius couldn’t blame him, ‘nothing terrible’ was a very flexible descriptor.

Father Seras nodded shortly and turned on his heel, Etrius quickly nudging Sable and she let go of his arm and followed on Father Seras’ heels, letting him wrap an arm around Rodri’s shoulders and tug him along in their wake. No fire was flickering at Rodri’s fingers yet, but Etrius had no doubt that if they had been in the Hall, Rodri would have a small flame dancing in his palm. Instead he was worrying at the sun-blessed steel arrowhead bracelet Etrius had honestly never seen Rodri without after the Eldest had gifted it to him.

“We can ask Kari anyway,” Etrius murmured, “All you have to do is say you asked on the way here. Say you asked privately, I’d never have known.”

Rodri visibly hesitated, looking sorely tempted before shaking his head, saying quietly, “I can wait. But thanks, Etrius.”

“You can change your mind at any time,” Etrius assured him.

“I’ll be fine Etrius. But thanks,” Rodri repeated, hooking an arm around his waist in a sideways embrace before stepping forward and out from under Etrius’ arm, just in time for them to reach the office that the Justicar had evidently taken over.

A Sunsguard Patrolman was standing at the door, and had already knocked and relayed their presence by the time they reached it, holding the door open for them. They all gave the usual polite nod or murmur of thanks when they slipped past, and the Justicar was standing when they filed in.

“Justicar Alfrid,” Father Seras greeted politely, “My student Etrius, Firestarting Acolyte, Rodri, a Firestarting Initiate, and Mistress Sable, an employee at the southern charity temple.”

“Excellent, thank you, Holiness Seras,” the man replied, gaze sweeping the three of them and speaking to them directly when he continued, “I would prefer to take statements and ask clarifying questions of each of you individually. You are entitled to a trusted adult witness to said questioning, though I would prefer someone who is currently in this temple complex for timeliness’ sake.”

“Father Seras would be fine for me,” Rodri said, Etrius nodding sharply in agreement. He hadn’t wanted to speak first, mostly to avoid pressuring Rodri or Sable into agreeing to Father Seras being their witness for sheer convenience.

“Mistress Sable, we can postpone your questioning until another staff member is available…” the Justicar trailed off when Sable shook her head.

“I am familiar with Holiness Seras, he will suffice for myself as well,” Sable informed him. No one looked particularly surprised, though one of the Sunsguard did raise an eyebrow. Etrius wasn’t surprised at all, though saying Father Seras and Sable were familiar with one another was a bit of an exaggeration – he told Sable everything, and Father Seras knew Sable was his best friend. Father Seras would rather gut himself than let her come to harm for that connection alone, and Sable had at least some understanding of how very fiercely Father Seras defended him from any sort of harm.

“Excellent news, my thanks,” the Justicar said politely, “I would ask that each of you refrain from discussing your testimony amongst one another, and after we have each spoken, I will do my best to explain what we know so far – and Patrolman Segil was witness to part of the aftermath at the charity temple, and will also summarize what he knows.”

They all gave polite thanks in reply, and when the Justicar took a seat, waving to an empty chair and prompting, “Whichever of you would prefer to go first,” Etrius stepped forward with no hesitation. He wanted to get a feel for the man before letting him question Sable and Rodri.

Those two were ushered back into the hall by the Sunsguard and the Patrolman remained inside the office, shutting the door behind them. Five bodies made the room feel a little cramped, and the decision for the Sunsguard to remain was odd, in Etrius’ mind, but it did mean that if there was a problem to deal with he’d potentially have a chance to warn at least one of them without tipping the Justicar off. He waited for the Justicar to give him a nod, pen at the ready, and then began.

Describing what he had seen in the temple itself took hardly any time at all, everything there had happened so quickly. Rodri had pulled him aside before they could get much further than the main entrance, and Etrius had promptly taken him to Sable, who had listened without any doubt and shown them to the storage room that was the entire problem. Then they had scrambled to get away and call for help, and they had been given their marching orders.

The Justicar asked about what they had seen and noted en route, so Etrius explained the rumors they’d started hearing on the way here. They had been halfway here before he’d truly noted anything; he had been in the middle of another round of his mental list of who could possibly have the means and motive for doing something like this when his line of thought had stuttered over a name and Rodri’s head had snapped around to stare at a woman none of them had ever seen before – and then she was suddenly awash with golden sparks, sobbing in relief when whatever it was was over. They hadn’t stopped to ask, but others nearby had and by the rumors he’d subsequently kept his ears pricked for and the name he could no longer say or even think…

Justicar Alfrid cast Father Seras a wry look when Etrius finished, commenting, “Scholar trained, yes? It shows. You are correct, Acolyte Etrius. The one once called Bertrand is certainly responsible for a lot of this, though the exact details of who assisted and under what circumstance remains open. It is my understanding he has been declared well and truly Nameless, to the point I cannot even write his name without some disclaimer phrase to preface it.”

Etrius could feel his mental tally of questions practically explode with the implications of that – how had he been declared Nameless? Had the Hunting Rite been involved? Who had conducted the Rite, surely not the Eldest, he was needed for flame mitigation –

Those questions would have to wait. He stood, offered a slight bow as was proper for an acolyte to a ranked priest, then stepped through the door the Sunsguard Patrolman opened.

Sable immediately stood and swept past him, which he understood. Rodri was the youngest, and if he had needed to offer any warnings about this Justicar’s attitude, Rodri was the one in the most need of the heads up. Since that was unneeded, the fact that this would give him some time to breathe and process before conferring with Sable was very welcome.

It had been the Oathbreaker to suggest he consider the priesthood. A path that would let him learn more, let him read more. He had known better than to feel indebted to the man even then, because having properly recorded debts was one thing, feeling indebted was entirely another, but he had given the man sincere thanks eventually. Had answered his questions as to how his studies were going. The Nameless had never outright asked him anything about the Firetarting Order or even any of their members, but he had mentioned being familiar with Holiness Valerik with the implication that familiarity was friendly…

Etrius was going to be obsessing over every word he’d ever exchanged with the man for moons. Had there been any hint? If he hadn’t invited Rodri to accompany him this winter – if Rodri hadn’t accepted, had decided that after yesterday’s drama he didn’t want to deal with a swarm of strangers –

Dropping down to the nearest bench and burying his face in his hands, he spared a moment to give a more thoughtful prayer of thanks that Sable had agreed to have Father Seras serve as her adult witness. It let Etrius feel safer, knowing as he did that Father Seras would be far more protective of her than anyone would guess, but it also meant Etrius could have these moments to look as distressed as he liked.

Father Seras would take any sign of Etrius’ distress very personally indeed, after all, and while most days he appreciated how much his mentor cared about his well being, knowing how far Father Seras was willing to go in his defense made expressing distress something he had to be careful about. Right now, after recounting what the morning had been and finally realizing just how many ways things could have gone wrong, he was too upset to be careful.

“Etrius? Mind if I sit next to you?”

He didn’t look up at Rodri’s question, just nodding. Rodri evidently saw the gesture, obscured though it likely was, and by the sounds immediately turned from the window he’d been staring out of and came over, settling on the bench next to him and scooting close enough their sides pressed against each other.

“Are you going to be okay?” Rodri asked quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Etrius managed, voice muffled, “I just – Rodri we almost died. So many people almost died. I didn’t trust him but I didn’t not trust him if that makes any sense.”

“Course it does,” Rodri agreed, “I didn’t know Holiness Loshern enough to trust him, but I didn’t not trust him, and apparently he wants all of us dead too. And now this… Oathbreaker? Sounds like he was a priest?”

“Now Nameless, yes,” Etrius said, wincing at the reminder of Loshern’s opinions. That had been a mess, and one he had needed to help deal with since Kavrick was less than able to support Maltin at the time. Oh he’d have managed, but it would have been unkind to make him, and Etrius rather doubted Father Kavrick even realized how attached his student had gotten to the exorcist in the few visits they had managed before it all went up in smoke.

“Huh. Wonder if they used the Hunting Rite or if it was just a denunciation like Honorable Anika,” Rodri said thoughtfully, Etrius immediately feeling a surge of interest at that thought – he had forgotten about Honorable Anika’s precedent for a lay-person declaring Namelessness, that opened up a whole host of possibilities.

“The golden sparks seemed to be involved,” Etrius said, finally lifting his head from his hands and glancing Rodri’s way, asking thoughtfully, “You looked at that woman before I saw any sparks. Did you feel something?”

“The song from my arrowhead changed, there was an echo,” Rodri said, wrinkling his nose, “It was very strange sounding. Even when there are a lot of individual arrowheads around it doesn’t sound like an echo, they’re all distinct.”

“Huh,” Etrius said, wondering about that. Wondering about a lot of things, but sun-blessed steel and its connection to sacred fire and Vanya Flamesinger and so very much of their history and their future was at least fun and not him contemplating all the people who wanted the Firestarters dead and ashes for all sorts of reasons.

Dead people were easy to forget. It was unfair for people to consider Firestarters a symbol of the old regime and everything that was wrong with it because all things told they had been a relatively small part of what was wrong with it. A very dramatic part, a very horrifying part, something of a capstone even, but a small part. But that symbolism went both ways – if they were a symbol of what had gone wrong, then they were a reminder of what had gone wrong. Of what could go wrong again if people weren’t careful and deliberate with the changes they were making.

How easy would it be, to let people forget how bad things had gotten before the reforms? If the Firestarters were gone, not reformed, then how could anyone ever think that the current regime was even remotely related to the old one, no matter how strange and twisted their path became? They had no Firestarters after all. They had no child-burners. They were so very different. So very much better.

Kill the Firestarters. Remove as many traces of them from history as you could manage. Let them be forgotten as anything but monsters, and within a few generations Karse would have White Demons to the north and Fire Demons from within, and so long as one was not either of them, one would be fine.

Such a broad definition of fine.

“Rodri, is there any restriction on how much Sun-blessed steel can be made in one go? Besides the literal physical limitations of how many arrowheads one can make at once, I mean. Is there some sort of cap from the blessing process?”

“I have no idea,” Rodri admitted, “But I don’t think so. Axeli’s arrow molds hold twenty-eight at a time and we made one mold, and then a set of molded spearheads and Anika Brersi’s spear the next day. But I think the ritual could be stretched for longer and make more than one mold – I’ve helped Axeli make arrowheads before he has five molds he can use in one round of smelting, it wouldn’t take much longer than the ritual currently is. Why?”

“Something Tristan and I were thinking about,” Etrius shrugged, expecting the startled look on Rodri’s face at that name. Tristan and Colbern’s terrible relationship was practically the first thing any Firestarter student learned about the Order, both because it was horribly obvious and because no one wanted to see an innocent mistake ignite a whole new nightmare. But that meant everyone was well aware of the fact that since Seras and Colbern were good friends, which left Etrius and Colbern somewhat associated and even friendly, Etrius and Tristan really didn’t talk much, if at all. Few opportunities to, no real inclination to change that.

But he was going to be ordained in the next couple of years, and that meant the Third Order Trial, and that meant Ari’s Tongue in addition to his control of fire. Tristan and Colbern were the best at Ari’s Tongue in the Order and the only reason Colbern was so good was because Tristan had been his student, so Etrius had decided to go to the source for the extra practice he wanted. Finding something to talk about that was complex enough to be challenging and relevant enough to what Etrius usually talked about to be useful yet not something that would spark any true arguments had been difficult, but discussing how the crimes of the previous regime would be remembered and should be remembered had been one of the better ones.

“He has some excellent ideas about the staying power of memory,” Etrius said, glancing at Rodri sidelong and admitting, “I think it’s because of his experience in the catacombs. There are a lot of forgotten corners, and a lot of remembered ones. Seeing what the difference is – it gives him insight a lot of people don’t have.”

“I thought he hated the catacombs,” Rodri said slowly.

“That would be because of his experiences in the catacombs,” Etrius shook his head, “I don’t know details, and I won’t ask. But he does hate them, and he also knows them better than anyone I’ve ever spoken to. Anyway. Staying power of memory. Books and records can be burned, obviously. Hidden too, but then they can be lost or damaged with water or any one of a hundred things. Objects are harder. Metal is harder. It can be melted down, of course, and stonework can be broken, but it is more effort. It is not easy.”

“So you were thinking some sort of monument? Or memorial? And somehow maybe sun-blessed steel could be involved?”

“It was a thought,” Etrius shrugged, “I think Tristan is going to bring it up in the Conclave’s future projects section. He had some more coherent ideas than I did. One of the questions we had though was whether or not sun-blessed steel could be destroyed or somehow reduced back to base steel.”

Rodri went pale, hand covering his bracelet protectively and Etrius winced, because he probably could have worded that better or at the very least waited to raise that possibility at a time where Rodri wasn’t likely clinging to that steel’s song as a comfort.

“I don’t know,” Rodri admitted, “I never thought to ask.”

“I should have asked later, it’s nothing urgent,” Etrius huffed a laugh, “It came up for a couple of reasons but – honestly I wanted to know what happened to the old steel. We clearly had it at some point. Others in the legends clearly had it, though perhaps not everyone who the steel is attributed to, or perhaps some were weapons and tools handed down through the ages, but who forged it first? When did it stop being made? How did they forget how to make it? Where are those legacy weapons now? One thought I had was that the legacy weapons became regular steel after a while, but I don’t know if it’s possible.”

Rodri had pulled his legs up so he could wrap his arms around his knees, looking very thoughtful and a little frightened.

Before Etrius could ask what he was thinking about, though, the door opened and Sable and Seras stepped out, Father Seras looking bland and no help at all and Sable at least not looking much more distressed than she had when she walked in. He and Rodri both rose to their feet, but Rodri beat him to speaking, saying brightly, “My turn then?” and not even waiting for Father Seras to confirm it before heading for the door.

Usually Etrius would roll his eyes, but not today.

They both waited for the door to click shut behind Rodri and Father Seras before Sable switched tracks from walking to the bench to lunging for him and practically bowling him over in a hug he returned just as fiercely. Sable was his best friend, and the main reason she had even applied to stay on at the southern temple as staff when she was of age was so they would keep being able to see each other with his visits.

If he had decided that yesterday was too stressful, that doing research and triage on the golden fire issue was important enough to delay his visit by a day, Sable could have died.

“I can’t believe it was him,” Sable said, voice shaking, “Etrius it was – he always listened! When we had concerns he would listen and help us raise issues with Holiness Obric, and he would help the older kids find jobs oh Sunlord how many of them did he push into helping him? Did he leave feeling indebted and privileged when he was trapping them?”

“Too many,” Etrius murmured, “Because I doubt that number is zero, and even one is too many. He’s Oathbreaker and Nameless and Forsaken, Sable, he’s finished.”

“They don’t know if he’s been caught yet,” Sable said shakily.

“We do,” Etrius refuted, before wincing and allowing, “Unless the person people were talking about with those golden sparks is a different Oathbreaker, he’s been caught, Sable.”

“How would we know?” she demanded, “How could we be sure? That’s just rumors!”

Etrius bit his lip before deciding it was worth asking, it could hardly hurt to ask, and they had both given their testimony already, so he closed his eyes and concentrated fiercely on the words of his question and the Firecat he wanted to speak to.

:Kari? Is the one once called Bertrand caught?:

:He is,: he heard Kari reply, sounding so very tired and so very relieved, :He is. And – ah, I should broadcast an update in general. Thank you for the reminder, Etrius. He is caught, and being questioned, and the trap only sprang partially and is now almost entirely dismantled.:

Heaving a relieved sigh, he felt Sable pull back a bit and he loosened his own hold, meeting her eyes and promising, “He’s caught, Sable. Honored Kari just confirmed it. He’s caught and the trap apparently sprang only somewhat and is just about dismantled now.”

“They were able to partially suppress the explosion,” Sable breathed, dropping her head against his shoulder with a murmured prayer of thanks, “They echoed Father Seras’ no-deaths claim.”

“Good,” Etrius said, feeling another wash of relief at the reminder of Father Seras’ assurances that there were no deaths from the trap, nothing terrible, in the way of injuries. With any luck at all, the Oathbreaker’s latest scheme hadn’t killed anyone, from set up to failed execution.

“And here I thought last winter was insane,” Sable muttered, and Etrius snickered, which set Sable to giggling and they practically collapsed onto the bench behind them trying to catch their breath and not laugh too loudly.

“The worst I thought we’d run into is you spending the whole morning arguing over your gift,” Etrius admitted, Sable promptly groaning and punching him in the arm.

“’Ri!” she scolded, “Ugh you are the worst at lest tell me it’s practical this year!”

“My gifts are always practical!” Etrius protested, “You liked that scarf.”

“You turned a silk stole into a purple scarf and added beads to it! Where on earth am I supposed to be able to wear something that fancy?”

“I was aiming for burgundy, but the beets turned red to purple…”

“That isn’t better!”

“Hopefully this one is,” Etrius grinned, finding the wrapped packet in his inner coat pocket and producing it with a flourish, handing it over with an exaggerated bow, “May this year’s gift find your favor, Lady Sable.”

“If you would just – my gift for you is in my room,” Sable realized, looking horrified, “Oh no what if it’s gone? I worked so hard on it!”

“Sable, you’re alive,” Etrius said, bumping their shoulders together, “I couldn’t care less. I hope it isn’t ruined, because that means your room is ruined and I remember how happy you were about having your own room, but don’t worry about it.”

“As if you were any better when your Incendiary decided students should live in the Hall too,” Sable sniffed, shaking her head and setting the matter of her gift for him aside to focus on the handkerchief wrapped package in her hand.

“Hmm… not too heavy, but not flat enough for – Etrius, if this is actually valuable jewelry, I will shove you down the stairs,” Sable hissed, evidently feeling the distinctive shape of a bracelet and starting to undo his overly elaborate folds and tucks.

“I’m not an idiot,” Etrius rolled his eyes, “The things I snag for repurposing are being donated anyway, the stole from last year was badly frayed and had some stains before I hemmed and dyed it, the beads were not-quite the right shade of whatever color Holiness Lumira was after. Come on Sable, give me some credit.”

“If I give you too much credit you’ll hang yourself,” Sable muttered, expression softening when she actually caught sight of the bracelet, “Did you make this?”

“I did,” Etrius said, before shoving his sleeve back and showing off the similar bracelet on his own wrist, “Made myself one too. Made mine first to practice, you got the nicer one.”

“As it should be,” Sable agreed cheerfully, slipping the bracelet of knots and beads onto her wrist and figuring out the mechanism for sliding it tighter, “It’s good work! And something I can actually wear day to day, this is much better.”

“And might be mildly spelled for protection from coercion and from being found by those who wish you ill,” Etrius coughed, already wincing when Sable punched the same spot on his arm again, “Ow!”

“Magic?!” Sable hissed, “Etrius you can’t give me - !”

“I can,” Etrius interrupted her, scowling, “Sable I checked. I can. There were never any official rules against giving people magical objects as cost-free gifts – oh fine, most called them blessed objects, but there were no rules against it! Only against using an offer of such things as leverage! Now there are definitely no rules against gifting, not for spells that aren’t malicious. I just – I wanted to practice the spells. I wanted to give you something like this for years, this is just the first time I thought I could both manage the spells and anchor them to something that you’d wear. Fabron says Holiness Lumira found some spells that protect against the taint of blood magic and when I learn how to craft those or manage to earn a favor from someone who knows I’m getting you one of those too.”

“Those lothga you told me about? The stories that are actually real?” Sable asked quietly.

“Blood mages attract them, I don’t know if these anti-taint spells would help against them, but they couldn’t hurt,” Etrius sighed, feeling abruptly exhausted, “With any luck at all you’d never be in a position to be near blood magic taint, being in Sunhame, but I’d feel better if you had it.”

“Only if you get yourself one first,” Sable said quietly, tucking the embroidered kerchief away – the wrapping was always a secondary gift, after all – before grabbing his hand and continuing, “Be that something you learn and make for yourself or a favor you earn, you get yourself one first, and then the next one you get you can give to someone else. You can give to me, if you still want to. As long as you have one too, I’ll accept it.”

“Thank you, Sable,” Etrius breathed, settling his head on top of hers when she leaned against his shoulder. Not as fun of a round of bantering as they could usually manage, but today wasn’t a day for that. Today was a day to thank the Sunlord and Ari and all the Blessed Souls that things had aligned just enough for the innocents caught in the Oathbreaker’s latest scheme to escape. He hoped every innocent caught in one of his other webs got free too.

And he hoped every person who helped the one once called Bertrand spin those webs choked on them.

=pagebreak=

It was a good thing his flask had only been half-full and watered down with lemon-water besides, Trevar had practically drained the thing. Marghi honestly didn’t know why he bothered carrying it, he no longer drank even to the point of being buzzed. Compromising his judgment was too risky nowadays. The flask came in handy on days like this though, when he at least wanted to be able to pretend he had the option of raising a glass to an insane day that wasn’t even half over.

Scrubbing at his face tiredly, he turned off Southern Ray into the first of a series of alleyways that would let him hopefully get to the back entrance of the Outer Eighth Sector Station without running into the crowds that were undoubtedly assembling in front of it. He had helped Trevar with the immediate aftermath of the Oathbreaker’s capture, what with the collision and crowd dispersal, then split from the other Captain and gone further out in the city to find a food stall, Sunlord knew he’d end up staying late today and skipping a meal would only make that harder. Rumors had already spread that far by the time he reached the stall he’d had in mind, so between making his purchase and devouring it, Marghi had given a basic explanation and announced that anyone who had been influenced or coerced by said Oathbreaker should give their statement to a Sector Station.

He didn’t doubt some people were already in Sector Stations for just that; Trevar had admitted after Bellamy’s departure and a few swigs that he had heard the Voice declaring him free of enchantment from the Oathbreaker in his own mind. It was likely an experience shared by everyone who had been freed from spellcraft, and meant everyone so freed knew that the Oathbreaker was caught and that ‘mortal justice remained’, whatever that ended up meaning. With the numbers he would bet the man had coerced – directly, indirectly, hells there were undoubtedly willing conspirators too – they would be sorting this out for moons, if not years.

Painful to deal with, but something that needed to be done, and done well. A mission, thank the Sunlord, he always did better when there was a longer-term goal instead of the usual day to day slog of being Captain. A mission this intense? Honored Kari could take as long as he needed to recover after what was undoubtedly a ridiculous day, Caleb would manage.

He found himself eyeing the stone stairs leading down into a sunken garden a bit too contemplatively, nonetheless, and tore his gaze away, focusing ahead of him and slipping his hand into his pocket to grab the sun-blessed steel arrowhead he had been granted. He had no idea if it helped in any way besides giving him something new and different to properly focus on, but it was too dull to consider it an avenue to kill himself quickly and it wasn’t making things worse, so he would take it.

Right. Focus on something else. Something more specific than the generic existence of this complicated set of cases. What did he need to ensure was being done when he got back? Gathering testimony from those who came to speak of the Oathbreaker’s coercion, obviously. Hmm. Likely reserve a testimony collection pair for cases other than that, set up some sort of queue for the Oathbreaker’s victims. Ah, first he had best speak to any of his Sunsguard who had been coerced via spellcraft, if any. But given the potential for Justicar interaction, he suspected any coercion on that front was in having a loved one trapped under spellcraft rather than themselves, which meant the men under that threat might not believe their loved ones were safe until they’d seen them personally.

Assuming, of course, that whatever leverage or coercion had been applied was solely from directly targeted spellcraft, which he doubted. Bully boys and the like could easily be used, and depending on the Oathbreaker’s style he likely had subordinates more than willing to apply that sort of leverage.

Then he needed to make himself available so that anyone worried for friends or family members would have a chance to approach him, yet somehow arrange it so anyone observing wouldn’t immediately know what was being discussed. That could get complicated, since he’d prefer to remain on the main level, both for availability to his staff as a whole and so he could confirm that the testimony gathering was going according to the strictest procedure – a legibly written record, either read by the witness or read to them by someone other than the one who had written the record, and if the witness agreed with what had been written, they would sign it. If they requested it, they were entitled to a similarly verified copy of their testimony, signed, sealed and dated. He had made sure to press home very firmly his first few moons here that those requests were always to be honored and, preferably, those copies offered rather than waiting for people to ask.

He had even given reprimands to guardsmen who made that offer with an insincere or exasperated tone, and on one notable occasion actual disciplinary action when the man in question didn’t cease and desist, so odds were better his preferred practices were holding true. It was worth verifying, though. Hells, especially now, more people than usual were going to take them up on the offer for a case like this. He would need to requisition more paper, he wouldn’t be surprised if they actually ran out before the next resupply –

“Captain!”

Had he not thanked the Sunlord sincerely enough for His aid this morning? Was that it?

He remembered a line his mother had quoted at them when he and his siblings complained – usually about something ridiculous, they had been children. You are given these burdens because your soul was crafted to bear them.

It hadn’t made him feel any better about chores as a child, and it hadn’t made him feel any better about Nacht’s scarring of his own mind, and it certainly didn’t make him feel any better about this utter fiasco of a day!

Two Firecats. Sun-blessed steel. Corrupt bastard got what was coming for him. I’m getting help at some point. What Nacht did to me was wrong, regardless of Talents not being witchy. Today has been good, even if it’s been insane, he reminded himself, turning in the direction of the shout and wanting to curse when he didn’t recognize the man at all. Man wasn’t in uniform, so not an on-duty guardsman, and since Caleb didn’t recognize him he wasn’t a current member of the Outer Eighth guard. Not someone like Val either, hauled in frequently enough and with a memorable-enough personality to be pointed out to him.

Even just in walking here, hearing all the rumors of golden sparks and an echoing Voice – it painted a disturbing picture of how far the Oathbreaker’s machinations had stretched. He knew in his bones that fleshing out the details would make it worse, and it left him wondering how many persons of interest he had been steered away from by men whose choices weren’t entirely their own. Was this a face he should know? Was this one the former Captain had known? Perhaps even been a reason that Captain had retired and moved out of Sunhame with his entire family?

Or was this man someone he should know as a victim? As someone harmed by the Oathbreaker and his ilk, who his gaze had been carefully turned away from without his noticing?

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, waiting for the man’s brisk pace to get him within speaking distance and very deliberately not removing his hands from his pockets when the man still drew closer. He couldn’t quite avoid shifting his stance, but that was less blatantly aggressive than settling a hand near his truncheon.

“Name’s Nico, locksmith,” the man said, finally stopping and rocking back on his heels only a short distance away. Not quite in arm’s reach, but well within range of a lunge-led strike.

Legitimate locksmiths were closely monitored. Between the profession and the name, tracking down information on this man would be easy, so long as he was telling the truth.

“Caleb Marghi, Captain of the Outer Eighth Sector Station, though you apparently already knew that. How can I help you, Master Nico?”

“Name Darius Vars mean anything to you?”

The way the name was practically spat out, Caleb had a sinking feeling he should know the name. Had a feeling the only reason he didn’t know the name was because people he had expected honesty from, had thought made it past the first round of discharges and investigations legitimately instead of with corruption to thank, had ensured he wouldn’t hear it.

“I am afraid it does not,” he said quietly.

The locksmith gave a sharp laugh that was anything but amused, and asked after a different name, “How about Garth Nolans?”

Now that name he did know, but he had only just heard it for the first time today when Honored Kari had startled a few years off his life by speaking to him out of nowhere and explaining the basic situation they had found Val stuck in the middle of. It had sounded like the man was one who had been ignored when he shouldn’t have been, and he had left a note to himself to raid the Station records for anything including that name in the next day or so. Hadn’t had the chance to do so, between his short meeting with Bron and his decision to track Trevar down to give the other Captain a warning, but he had planned to at least.

“Heard that name for the first time today,” Marghi admitted, shifting his weight a bit and saying, “I take it those are names I should know?”

“They’re names some people put a lot of work into making sure you didn’t know,” the locksmith said, confirming Caleb’s own suspicions and fortunately elaborating without prompting, “Ex-Sunsguard, both of them. Vars was a Sergeant, Garth was his Corporal. Whole squad was discharged early spring, before official guidelines came down. Nolans filed for an appeal and it was denied, but that story was squashed quick, left a lot thinking he never bothered filing.”

“Hmm. Illegal, that denial. I can ensure an appeal gets fast-tracked, but I suspect that’s not what you flagged me down for.”

“It’s not, though I’d appreciate that,” the man agreed, hesitating before shifting his own weight in preparation for flight. Keeping his feet planted rather than moving so he could more quickly pursue took conscious effort, but Marghi managed. This man had flagged him down and wanted his aid in something, despite evidently having a whole host of reasons to mistrust the Sunsguard. Best to not agitate this very hesitantly extended trust.

“Officers in the guard can arrest based on information, investigate afterwards. Don’t need to personally witness a crime before an arrest, last I heard, is that still true?” the locksmith asked carefully.

“Depending on severity of supposedly witnessed crime, yes,” Caleb confirmed, deciding to not yet mentioning the additional host of requirements on how long one could take on that follow up investigation before having to let the arrested person go, prompting after a long moment, “You have information that you think should lead to an arrest?”

“I’ve seen him beat men to death,” Nico said, voice hollow, “Darius Vars, that is. I’ve seen him arrest men for crimes his allies committed, because they didn’t give him what he wanted fast enough. Nolans… tried. Hells, he stopped arresting people for anything but serious assaults and murders, since Vars had to sign off on every penalty his men issued and always made it worse, just because he could. Worked out deals instead. Got my job as a locksmith that way. Wasn’t registered to start, but Garth helped me get an apprenticeship.”

“I’ll need more details to properly start an investigation, but what you’ve stated is enough for me to issue orders for Vars’ arrest and hold him for three days while we investigate before I have to let him go if nothing is found. I’ll issue those orders the moment I get back to the Station,” Marghi assured him, feeling a dull sort of fury at the story he was hearing, at the things he could hear between the now-registered locksmith’s words. Nolans was likely with the Justicars already, and if they hadn’t arranged to get him an appeal yet then by the One God, Caleb would do it himself and file a very strongly worded complaint against former Captain Pars while he was at it, because there was exactly one person who could possibly serve as gatekeeper for those appeals at the Station level.

“All due respect Captain, you didn’t even know Vars’ name before this. What sort of odds you want to lay on people actually pursuing that arrest?” the locksmith said, voice sharp enough that any ‘due respect’ was lip service, but Marghi couldn’t blame the man. The thought had occurred to him as well, but he was one man, and he had little other practical choice. Aside from that, though the locksmith had no way of knowing, Caleb strongly suspected that orders to that effect were already en route from Fourth Court, if not already arrived.

But he didn’t have any way to explain that, not without spending a lot of time claiming things he had no way to quickly prove true. Besides, Nico the locksmith had to have reported this information to him for a reason, and if that reason wasn’t to simply get orders for Vars’ arrest issued…

“Not particularly good odds,” he allowed, tilting his head slightly, “So you want me to arrest him myself. You know where he is, then?”

“I know where he was not too long ago. Have some acquaintances keeping an eye on it, if he’s left they’ll know which way he went. Might have followed, if they thought they could stay unnoticed.”

No hobbles, no back up. No one would even know where he was. This could very easily be a trap.

A sacred arrowhead was still clenched in his hand. Honored Kari could not come to his aid today, but he would be able to hear Caleb if he called, according to Holiness Dinesh. If this was a trap, he would at least be able to raise an alarm. He wouldn’t be utterly silenced and forgotten.

This was his duty. It didn’t matter what it cost him.

“Lead the way, Master Nico,” he finally said.

The man looked far too wary for someone who had just received exactly what he had asked for, but Marghi raised an eyebrow at him and that got him moving. He made sure to keep himself close enough to Nico that the man could keep him in the corner of his gaze, and kept his hands in his pockets. It was all the reassurance he could really offer that wouldn’t be brushed off as just being words.

The locksmith kept to side streets and alleys, only crossing more major thoroughfares when there was no choice, and didn’t say a word unless it was to give a heads up he was about to turn across Marghi’s path. He didn’t bother asking any of the multitude of questions this entire interaction had spawned, both out of respect for Nico’s clear desire for silence and out of sheer practicality. He had no idea where they were heading, and had no way of knowing how close they were. Best not to alert anyone of their approach by speaking, especially since the questions he had would make it very obvious that a Sunsguard officer was approaching.

It was only a few more blocks before a snippet of whistling caught his ear, and by the way Nico immediately swerved in that tune’s direction it was a signal. At least it meant it wasn’t the tune Enforcer Bellamy had warned him against humming along to – after that utterly bizarre warning he didn’t plan to hum ever again, not so long as this piece of sun-blessed steel was in his possession. Nico tossed a coin to the man who’d evidently whistled that signal, sitting on the top of a ramshackle set of steps and slumped against the doorframe, scarf wrapped around the majority of his face and a knit cap pulled low.

“Still there,” the man said, evidently one of the acquaintances Nico had left on watch, “No sign of Nolans yet?”

“Neither of them,” Nico said, likely referring to both Garth and the sister who Caleb only knew existed from Honored Kari’s summary of Val’s situation, “Any new faces go in?”

“Course,” the man spat to one side, “Poor bastard with the kid.”

“Hells, that’ll make it messy,” Nico muttered, Caleb feeling his eyebrows creeping up his face and the number of questions he had going up along with them, “Thanks Renz, might want to get out of here.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” the man muttered, climbing to his feet, only now glancing Caleb’s way and looking torn for a long moment, before nodding his head and saying, “Good luck for this one, Captain.”

Caleb nodded back and stepped aside to let the man pass freely, feeling amused despite the circumstances at the very specific thanks. He had a feeling this Renz was far more likely to end up wishing Sunsguard ill-fortune in their pursuits, but Darius Vars was apparently enough of a wretch for all sorts of people to want him gone. Was just a matter of making sure the people who needed to keep him around for whatever reason were dealt with.

How fortunate, that the Oathbreaker had been caught.

Nico led the way into the building Renz had been sitting in front of, and Caleb stepped where the locksmith did as best he could, following Nico to the wall that evidently split the building in half, and the one door that led through it. By the glistening, someone had recently oiled the hinges, and the door opened quietly – and with the door open, he could hear a murmur of voices. Not enough to make out words just yet, but enough to make out tone, and the tone was ugly.

“ – known better than to trust Nolans, bastard’s been trying to break things open for years,” he heard through a half-open door, Nico pausing out of sight of that gap and Caleb settling in beside him to listen for a bit.

It was likely safe to assume the speaker’s identity, but better safe than sorry, especially now. Tapping the locksmith on he shoulder, he made a gesture to indicate talking and mouthed the name, “Vars,” with a query in his expression. The slow nod confirmed it, this voice was definitely the Darius Vars he apparently should have been hearing quite a bit about.

“Could have thought he’d given up,” a voice he knew said. Senior Lieutenant Bron, you should be managing witness intakes right now, or preparing for the upcoming Shift Lead meeting. Ah hells, the man was de facto second in command and had been for well over two years, which meant Caleb was going to have to reopen nearly every case that had ever closed in that time span.

It could be worse, he reminded himself, grimacing nonetheless, you could not know. Better to clean it up than pretend it never happened. Cleaned wounds heal.

Vars’ laugh was disturbingly bright, the sound didn’t fit the man’s evident character at all.

“Nolans? Give up? Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word, why do you think I kept him around so long? Wouldn’t break, didn’t matter what I did,” the man sounded nearly proud, and definitely admiring. The meaty thunk that followed didn’t come with any accompanying sounds of pain, not even a hitch of breath. Whoever had been struck was unconscious or worse. Two conscious bodies, at the very least, and who knew which way Bron would fall. Coerced, or willing? And if coerced, by what means? Did he even know that the Oathbreaker’s malicious spellcraft had been removed?

“Not like this one here,” Vars scoffed, another thunk punctuating his words, “Didn’t even last the first moon before he was bending over backwards to please. Useful I suppose, but the struggle’s more fun.”

Oh Caleb didn’t like the sound of that hitch in Bron’s breathing at all.

“So you’re not letting Gari go,” the man said.

“Now you’re getting it,” Vars practically crooned the words. How wonderful, his nightmares had been getting repetitive lately, some variety was just what he needed. Vars didn’t stop, though at least he stopped crooning, voice switching to idle when anyone with sense would know it was anything but, “Larschen here brought me shit news, and now I can’t even say my sponsor’s name, which means all sorts of problems are coming my way. Why the hell would I let you buy little Garrick’s freedom? No other reason for you to get me out of Sunhame, cuz.”

A long silence, and Caleb was ready to put an end to this. No one else had said a word in that room, and he didn’t hear anyone moving about in there that wasn’t accounted for by Bron and Vars. Besides that, it sounded like Bron was being coerced, so with any luck he wouldn’t actively defend Vars if it came down to it.

Exhaling slowly, not quite willing to pray that this would go well more for fear that there would be an answer than that there wouldn’t be, he finally let go of the blessed arrowhead he’d clung to this whole time. Unhooking his truncheon from his belt, he tapped Nico on the shoulder again and gestured for the man to step aside and let him pass.

“Not even going to beg, are you,” Vars said, sounding wistful, of all things, “Not even for old time’s sake?”

“What’s the point?” Bron bit out, Caleb finally catching a glimpse of the inside of the room, though all he could see was bloodstained floorboards. Fairly fresh pool, and large enough the Larschen that Vars had been kicking was definitely dead, “You want people to beg, you let begging work once and a while, you bastar – ”

“Hey now!” Vars snarled, wood scraping and Caleb slammed the door open, crying, “Darius Vars! You are under arrest!”

Procedurally, he should pause now and give the man at least three breaths to surrender. Practically, the man was already in the middle of lunging for Bron, would definitely not stop, and was most definitely a nightmare of the first order.

Eh. Maybe second. Nacht had set a high bar.

Bron dodged, spinning out of the way but Vars was too quick on his own feet for Caleb to take advantage of his momentary overbalancing. Widening his stance as he settled in to block the door, Caleb kept his focus on Vars. No resemblance between the two apparent cousins, and despite what he almost hoped, there was none of Nacht’s madness in the man’s eyes. No, this man knew exactly what he was about, and relished in every second of it.

“Captain Marghi, isn’t it?” Vars sneered, shifting his weight back and forth as though he was going to lunge but never quite committing to it. Waiting for him to flinch away, for Caleb to leave a gap the man could shove through. If he’d had back up, that’d have been perfect. Could have had them waiting just outside to pin Vars down.

He had a locksmith, who he didn’t even know for sure had stayed to see this through. Wouldn’t blame the man if he hadn’t. He had a Shift Lead who was evidently long compromised and resigned to being under this bastard’s thumb.

He couldn’t even trust his own mind most days, and he was still here. There was still a chance.

“Bandit hunter turned city guard, now there’s a shift,” the man laughed, the sound no longer the bright thing that made Marghi’s skin crawl at the dissonance, this was more of a malicious snicker. It was oddly calming. At least it matched the words.

“What drove you in? Not enough girls in those farm towns you guarded? Not what I heard,” the man said, sounding smug, “I heard you got yourself attacked by a witch. Nearly got you to slit your own throat, didn’t he? Little fucker. Can’t even be compensated now, can you, witches aren’t witches. How’s that feel, Captain? Knowing the witch that almost killed you wasn’t even evil?”

“He was never evil,” Caleb said, keeping his tone cool and deliberately not letting himself look away, even if it meant Bron’s horrified expression was in his line of sight, “What he did to me was wrong, but he was mad. Not evil. Not malicious.”

“How inspiring,” Vars spat, tone growing uglier. Caleb wasn’t doing what he wanted, after all, “Truly merciful, Captain, so kind of you.”

“Oh I didn’t truly believe that till this morning,” Caleb smirked, stalling in hopes there’d be some opening, that Bron might choose the right side, “Poor timing, Vars. Would have made me flinch, yesterday. Poor timing all around, wasn’t it? Oathbreaking sponsor of yours had his plan fall apart, your own sadism stabs you in the foot, all from what? Do you even know where things went wrong for you?”

Vars was snarling, a hair-raising sound, but Marghi had caught his interest. Man wasn’t shifting anymore, and even better had frozen where he wouldn’t be able to see Bron if the man moved carefully. Couldn’t glance his Shift Lead’s way, that would ruin any chance of an ambush from that quarter, and he had no way of knowing if Bron was even capable of taking that chance, resigned as he likely was.

Habits carved furrows in one’s mind all on their own, no Talent required. Just took longer. And as long as he suspected Vars had been threatening Bron’s son? His Shift Lead was in the habit of obedience to this man, forget Bron’s perfectly understandable terror that Vars would be able to enact some form of vengeance on him if he dared try.

“You took Val, and Val, as it turns out, has quite the family,” Caleb finally said.

“Always wanted to pay that bitch a visit, but my sponsor wanted her for himself. Thanks for the tip, Captain, I’ll make sure to track her down on my way out,” Vars sneered, and Caleb knew the man wanted him to flinch, to be horrified, and in any other circumstance he would try to distract the man, to point out that he hadn’t been referring to Jana, not really. He had been referring to Val’s so-called younger brother, but to be perfectly honest the idea of this man trying to track down Holiness Jaina, Firestarter…

“I doubt that will work out well for you,” he replied dryly.

Floorboard creaked damn Bron had almost had a shot –

Vars staggered under the swing, slamming an elbow into his cousin’s chest, Caleb lunging forward and ducking a blow and stomping a knee into collapsing but not able to completely dodge the open-handed strike to his face, nails catching on his cheek and blood running down but it gave him the angle to twist Vars’ arm up around his back and Bron took the shot that opened up and Vars slumped, eyes rolled up in the back of his head and one hell of a lump in the midst of forming.

Caleb didn’t let go of him, just his luck the man would be one to shake off a head blow quicker than the usual, and instead finally got a good look at his daytime Shift Lead.

The man looked torn between relief and horror, stumbling back till he hit the wall and sliding down it, truncheon in a white knuckled grip.

“What sort of hold did he have over your son?” Caleb demanded.

“Curse,” Bron said, voice choked, “Whenever he wanted he could – he could make him sick.”

One of the few things he knew about the man’s family was that he had a sickly little boy. That curse had been used far too often, if the number of illnesses he’d heard was even close to accurate. But something like that was definitely magic, and with any luck at all…

“You know who cast the spell? Was it his sponsor that can’t be named anymore?”

“Don’t know. Think so,” Bron said, bowing his head, “Fuck I don’t even know how he sets the curse off. He could – he could still – “

“You see those golden sparks?” the locksmith demanded, finally appearing in the doorway and flinching when he caught sight of the corpse in one corner, “Ah, hells.”

“He was dying when I got here,” Bron said, voice dull, “Only thing missing was the snapped neck. Vars was – was waiting. For an audience. To do that part. Doesn’t think it’s fun to kill if no one else is there to watch.”

“Golden sparks he’s talking about were the miraculous removal of all the Oathbreaker’s malicious spellwork. Happened all over Sunhame, why I asked if you knew who had cursed your son,” Caleb explained, redirecting to a less horrifying topic and watching his Shift Lead struggle to keep his breathing even. At least Caleb’s issues were confined to his own mind, his own skin. Traumatizing for whoever watched when he finally broke, but he had worked damn hard at making sure his judgment was only truly compromised when it was his life alone on the line –

He should have asked Nico if there was any aid from the Sunsguard the locksmith would accept. There had to be others Caleb could have reached out to. New transfers, unlikely to have fallen under Vars’ sway just yet. He could have asked for Honored Kari to ask the Justicar at Fourth Court to send reinforcements, he could have demanded that Nico spell out just what was waiting for him and whether or not the locksmith planned to help detain Vars or not. He had gone along with a plan to pull a solo arrest on a man known for beating people to death and his only mitigation had been a half-thought plan to send a final message to Honored Kari if it looked like he’d lose.

Fuck. Only direct risk to his skin, fine, but if he’d died Vars could have gotten away, and even this one encounter told him enough to know that was unacceptable. This wasn’t sustainable. He couldn’t keep doing this. But he also couldn’t afford to have a panicked breakdown now, so he focused on the immediate problem.

“Need your hobbles, Bron,” he added, the man jolting and shaking his head, muttering apologies and unhooking his hobbles from his belt, tossing them over. Took a few moments past that even, but the request finally seemed to register and he blinked, some of his daze fading as he asked, “You don’t have any hobbles, sir?”

“Only carry one set,” Caleb grunted, choosing to bind the man’s arms in the same slightly frowned-upon way Bellamy had done the Oathbreaker’s. Vars had a head wound, moving him was non-ideal, but Caleb wasn’t staying here, he doubted Nico was any more inclined to go to the Sector Station than before especially solo, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting Bron out of his sight right now.

“Handed it over to get used on the Oathbreaker,” he continued, checking the bindings and pleased enough with them, slowly easing Vars’ body down so he could properly frisk it for weapons. Some nasty knuckle guards in a pocket, knobbed nearly to spikes and still tacky with blood, two knives of middling quality, one knife against his lower back of exceptional quality and the glistening of the light on the rippled metal was lovely, dying by this blade would be an acceptable way to –

“Captain!”

Inhaling desperately, he flung the far-too-close blade away from him and slammed his fist against the wooden floor, “Damn it!”

The room practically echoed with their breathing.

Finally Nico’s footsteps broke it, the man using his foot to drag the other two blades and the knuckleguards further away from him. Marghi didn’t quite dare look at either of them, reaching for his arrowhead and struggling to even out his own breathing.

“So the making nooses out of hobbles isn’t intended as threatening,” Bron said.

“Not to anyone but myself, at least,” Caleb replied bitterly, shaking his head and forcing that aside. He would be getting help. Help actually existed. He did not have time for this. “My apologies, for leaving you with the impression I was trying to threaten you.”

“I thought it was too mild to be an intentional threat,” Bron admitted, slowly climbing to his feet and very deliberately resecuring his truncheon before he did so, “My money was on it being some morbid habit to pass the time you didn’t even think about anymore. Not everyone interpreted it as a threat, sir.”

“Some did, and that’s too many,” he retorted, glancing Nico’s way before saying, “Senior Lieutenant, bag up the weapons. Master Nico, will you be accompanying us to Outer Eighth or would you prefer your testimony be gathered without your immediately visible association to this arrest?”

The locksmith took a few steps back from the knives and knuckleguards he’d kicked aside so Bron could gather them without getting within grabbing distance. Mistrust of Bron or an effort to reassure Bron, Caleb couldn’t quite tell. A mix was more than possible. Judging by the long silence and thoughtful expression in response to his question, there was more going into this decision than the man’s understandable mistrust of the Sunsguard of Outer Eighth.

Rebuilding trust was going to be a years-long endeavor. Possibly even his life’s work, and that was without assuming one of the lingering furrows from Nacht’s assault finally kept him hemmed in past all saving. It was important though, and with any luck it would start here.

“You say you saw the Oathbreaker get caught, Captain?”

“I did. Had gone to speak to Captain Nachten about the issues at the southern charity temple. Oathbreaker passed by, caught our attention as someone to talk to, threw a Levin bolt at us,” he shook his head at that memory, because as many times as he’d come to his senses with a noose in his hand or at the top of a steep set of stairs with no memory of climbing them, that was still the closest brush with death he’d had in years, “Dodged the first one, second bolt got taken down by the Voice. Honored Hansa took the man down, Voice declared him Oathbreaker, Nameless and Forsaken. When Bellamy came back to himself he needed hobbles to secure the man for hauling back to the Justicar. Golden sparks were part of some secondary Voice manifestation, I think. Captain Nachten had already had some sort of spellwork placed on him in the few seconds the Oathbreaker registered our existence, so saw that first hand too.”

“Well. You had. A morning,” the locksmith managed, voice distinctly strangled and Bron’s stunned expression not much better.

He had to snort, because they didn’t know the half of it.

“Senior Lieutenant Bron, help me haul him out. We’ll leave markers on the doors, come back for the body. Master Nico, you coming with us publicly or not?”

“I’ll come in with you,” the man decided, watching as Bron came back to join Caleb in hooking an arm under Vars’ armpit to haul him up, bracing their forearms against the man’s shoulders. There’d be some dragging, but carrying him over a shoulder was a bad plan with the lump on his skull and likely patches of ice on the roads, and he suspected there were plenty of questions this man should be answering before he was allowed to die. Fortunately Vars’ coat was thick wool, gave them something to grip without worrying too much about it ripping free.

“Then if you’ll kindly get the door,” Caleb said, heading that way himself and relieved when Bron followed, Vars’ head lolling and feet dragging on the ground behind them, “Do either of you have specific names you would advise I keep away from this one when we get to the Sector Station? Or am I going to have to keep him locked up under my personal supervision until a transfer to Fourth Court can be arranged?”

“Couple names,” Bron admitted wearily, “Might be best to just take him straight to Fourth Court, especially if that Oathbreaker is there like you say.”

Caleb gave a non-commital hum, thinking that suggestion over as he pulled a pair of official Sunsguard tokens out of his stash and hung one on the door of the room. He kept another one out and hung it on the front door of the building they were in – a different door than the one Renz had been guarding, but that was why he put one on the room too. Signaled to everyone that Sunsguard would be back to examine a scene, with some heavy penalties on anyone caught interfering with the scene or in possession of those tokens without proper authorization. Wasn’t perfect, but it was something – honestly, he was impressed with how well it seemed to work.

The Fourth Court suggestion was a good one, honestly, but the Senior Lieutenant had a pallor to his skin even now and while Marghi wouldn’t say it specifically, he wanted the man sitting down and with someone sent to check on his family as soon as possible. The longer the man had to worry about his son being cursed in some last gasp of vengeance the worse his state would likely get. Aside from that, Caleb knew Fourth Court had likely already sent out the promised orders regarding collecting testimony against the Oathbreaker. Standard policy was for Court runners to announce those orders immediately, but remain at the Sector Station until they personally handed the written orders to the ranking officer on shift. Right now, that meant him, and he didn’t doubt that policy and procedure was being followed very carefully on this investigation.

Well, barring the apparent multiple divine interventions, but somewhere in the books he was sure there was official policy for incorporating divine intervention into a legal case. Long out of use and possibly even entirely lost, but he had no doubt at all that something to that effect had been on the books at some point.

“I was told to expect orders from Fourth Court with guidelines for collecting testimony involving the Oathbreaker. They’re likely already there, and are undoubtedly waiting for me to accept the orders formally. That runner will be an external witness to prevent any mishandling of custody, but I’m not hauling this one all the way to Fourth Court right now,” Marghi decided, outlining at least some of the reasons he was refusing Bron’s suggestion.

“Also, if people are showing up at the station to testify regarding the Oathbreaker’s broken spellcraft, they could very well know Vars as his subordinate. Seeing him hauled in might get more detailed statements out of them,” he added, continuing down the street that would lead them to the Sector Station. The main entrance, this time. If he was going to use Vars’ once-victims seeing him caught as reason to not go all the way to Fourth Court right now, he had to make sure they actually saw Vars.

“Oh I think that’ll prompt plenty of details, Captain,” Nico said, voice darkly satisfied. Hopefully at some point Caleb would get answers as to how this man had become involved, though he suspected there was some sort of perceived debt to Nolans as a motivator.

“Right, need to make sure Garth Nolans actually receives his appeal,” he muttered, wincing as he followed that thought through, “And make sure everyone else entitled to an appeal actually received one if they wanted, damn it.”

“Nolans was the only one who filed for an appeal and was denied. Don’t know if the others already knew it would be useless or if they didn’t want it,” Bron said quietly, breath shaky and voice even softer as he admitted, “Captain Pars had grandchildren. Same curse as my boy on at least one of them. Finally got released when he retired. Last favor was denying appeals for anyone who’d worked with Vars.”

“I guessed there was something like that,” Marghi grimaced, shaking his head and shifting his grip a bit – there really was no good way to carry a person as complete dead-weight, not unless they were literally dead weight and you didn’t care too much about their condition, “Explains why he retired and took his entire family out of the city.”

“Didn’t want to risk getting caught in that trap again,” Bron agreed, voice cracking a bit as he continued, “Seemed proof I could actually. Get Gari freed. Somehow. Said if I made sure Val and Garth got the brunt of suspicion in whatever was supposed to happen today, they’d let my boy go too. Went out to… to make sure rumors were spreading like he said they would be, when I heard about golden sparks and… and decided to see if that was worth anything instead.”

“I wondered what the hell those rumors about Val and Garth going to the underlevels were about,” Nico muttered, which was concerning in and of itself. Rumors had already been spreading, yet somehow when Jana came in to ask after where her brother was, no one in the station had heard of them? Unlikely. Something else to look into, then.

He still didn’t quite understand what the goals of this plot were, even with his extra bit of insight from Honored Kari’s initial call to him, explaining the Garth Nolans found Val situation. Whatever it was, it sounded hellishly nested. Something against Firestarters, at the topmost level, but did Vars even know that Val was a Firestarter? It hadn’t sounded like it, with his comments about Jana. Higher level plot, Val being a scapegoat made sense, but why the hell was Nolans supposed to get credited with this too? Just to fuck with him, because apparently Vars was the sort of person to find that entertaining? Or had this been at the Oathbreaker’s behest to get Nolans eliminated instead of constantly a threat to their plans? Managing a man trying to ruin you without flat out killing him sounded complicated, especially keeping in mind that for the sorts of people Vars and the Oathbreaker evidently were, killing would be far from the last resort.

This investigation was definitely going to be a city spanning mess. He was not looking forward to getting final numbers of how many dishonorable discharges and demotions and on-duty probations his Sector Station was going to be facing. Staffing was going to be a problem, damn everything to the coldest of hells, but especially Darius Vars and his Oathbreaking sponsor.

=pagebreak=

They had been in the middle of this same spice cake debate when Kari’s voice had interrupted and reminded Jaina that Maude was still at risk, because Vars was loose and apparently had been tasked with eliminating her as part of the Oathbreaker’s scheme. By the way Maude had reacted, she had expected as much, and said nothing. Jaina was unsure if it was because Maude had a plan involving using herself as bait or if Maude had simply not thought they would listen to her if she raised concerns about her own safety, but both options were honestly awful to contemplate so she had insisted on staying with Maude herself.

If Vars wasn’t caught by the time she had to leave, the Nolans siblings would simply become the first in living memory to claim sanctuary in the full ‘take shelter in our Hall’ sense. First in well over six centuries, actually. If it hadn’t been for the rewrite of the Charter dragging a lot of archaic practices and customs to the forefront, Jaina would honestly have forgotten that the practice was still a legitimate one.

“Maude, I will gladly buy an extra spice cake, I was already planning to ask if you had any extras when I picked up my order, you don’t need to give me one!” Jaina protested, for at least the fifth time.

Maude actually scoffed, which was an improvement over the awkward hesitation of her first retort to Jaina’s objections, shaking her head and saying, “I have plenty of extras. I always bake extras for impulse purchases, and some of my standing orders canceled at the last minute. I had the ingredients on hand already, and as spice cake is a seasonal demand, I used all of it.”

“Bellamy would disagree,” Jaina said dryly, unable to resist, “He’s the whole reason I upped my holiday order a few moons ago, the man’s apparently obsessed with spice cake.”

“Then you’ll have to take two extras,” Maude said briskly, and Jaina literally bit her tongue this time. The only objections she truly had to this offer of Maude’s, this decision of Maude’s, was the fact that helping was her duty. She had not done it for reward, she would have done it for anyone, and the fact that she had considered Maude a friendly acquaintance for over ten years and never once suspected something was wrong, that the baker was being coerced and blackmailed and pinned in a corner…

If she had just once looked with mage-sight. Just once done her usual-as-Jaina glances to make sure no unexpected spellwork cropped up that people might need help getting free of, Maude could have been freed years ago. They could have eliminated the Oathbreaker years ago. Not as thoroughly as they would likely manage now, with the full force of the regime behind them and no need or even desire to shelter those who had willingly conspired with him, but it could have been done. She could have helped.

“Maude! Maude Nolans!” she heard, quickly turning with Maude and just as quickly readying a clever little cantrip Colbern had once taught her, which made the target stumble. It’d be enough for her to call for Honored Hansa, perhaps get Maude clear, and resign herself to saying to hell with Jana and let slightly more obvious combat magic fly.

“Bretta!” Maude greeted, sounding more than a little stunned but not hostile, and stopping at the sight of the woman, letting her catch up. A boy, perhaps nine, was walking in the woman’s wake, hand tightly clasped with hers and looking more than a little stunned. Jaina quickly slipped into mage-sight and managed not to frown, though it was difficult. No spellcraft on either of them currently, but the boy’s internal networks were far too active – not as if he were a mage himself, or rather, not as if he held the potential to be one, but as if…

As if he had been weighed down for a long while, and was finally free.

Letting her vision fade back into the more normal way of viewing the world, she glanced at Maude and quirked an eyebrow, hoping for an introduction.

“Jana, this is Bretta,” Maude introduced, greeting Bretta with a handclasp and looking unsurprised when the woman pulled her son tight to her side as soon as they all stopped, stepping closer to the edge of the road in an effort to avoid blocking the thoroughfare, “And not-so-little Garrick. Is it still Gari? I remember last I saw you, that name wasn’t your favorite.”

The boy was staring up at Jaina with uncomfortably wide eyes, and she could only hope that he didn’t by some unimaginable coincidence share Colbern’s condition of constantly active somewhat-mage-sight. He would certainly be able to tell something was different about her if that were the case.

“Val’s sister Jana?” Bretta asked before her son could say anything.

“Exactly like,” she said, amused despite herself. Valerik had been doing this for decades, and the whole pirate press-gang story that had introduced her as his sister was one far too outlandish not to be spread far and wide by those who knew it, but it always struck her as bizarre just how far his name as Val reached. Given, she didn’t associate with many lay-people as Jana outside of those she met en route to bailing Valerik out which undoubtedly influenced her perception, but still. She would swear she had never met this woman in her life, and would put good money on Val not being able to pick this Bretta’s face out of a crowd, yet here she was, immediately recognizing her as Jana, Val’s younger and more sensible sister.

“This is news for the both of you then,” Bretta said, expression going tight, “Your brother, Maude? Do you know where he is?”

“Yes,” Maude said shortly, voice utterly void of the friendliness that she had opened with. Before Jana could try and ask for clarification or simply offer some comment to hopefully break the growing tension, young Garrick or Gari spoke up, still staring at her.

“Uncle hated you,” he whispered, before burrowing his face into his mother’s coat, the woman wincing with a shudder.

“I… was unaware I talked to anyone in this Sector often enough to make them hate me,” Jaina admitted, feeling more than a little bemused, “At least without knowing them and their families on sight, but I could swear we have never met?”

“My husband’s cousin,” Bretta said, voice cracking, “He… would visit often. Talk about… work. Do you – know where your brother is, Mistress Jana?”

“I do,” Jana confirmed, “We are actually en route to the Sector Station to let them know he’s been found. Well, I am at least. Maude has testimony to offer.”

“He had nothing to do with it,” Bretta blurted, one free hand wringing in her skirt, “I – I will testify to whoever I need to he had nothing to do with – with whatever he might be accused of from last night, he was – “

Jaina interrupted her, easily seeing that she was near tears and hoping to reassure her at least somewhat, “I know what you are talking about. Well. Not in full detail. But my brother was supposed to be framed for a disaster, and he was found before it could happen. By Garth, actually. They have both already testified as much, and are being listened to. The man who orchestrated the scheme has been declared Oathbreaker – ”

“Nameless, and Forsaken,” the boy finished, staring up at her again, “Judgment has been rendered, but mortal justice remains.”

That – was the exact same wording Maude had used, and by the stunned horror on Maude’s face, she recognized the phrasing too. Jaina ignored the quiet communication going on between Maude and Bretta, filled with tearful expressions and hushed one-word questions and answers that she didn’t have enough context to properly understand, focusing instead on this boy. This child.

The only thing that had let her sleep at night these past years was the bone-deep surety that the wretches she burned had already tortured and tormented the souls of the innocents whose bodies they had stolen. They only looked innocent, sounded innocent, screamed in rage, not in terror. When that surety had been wrenched from her, when Kir had answered her question with no prevarication, no hesitation at all –

She had never wanted to be struck dead more than in that moment.

Gathering her skirt in one hand, she crouched down to be at eye-level with Gari, saying quietly, “The spells that were once on you are gone, you know.”

“I know,” he said, breath hitching, “And I’m glad. But what about my uncle? Will he be judged too?”

“If he is caught, yes,” Maude assured him, finally speaking full sentences again, and when Jaina looked up she was a little surprised to find Maude with an arm wrapped around Bretta’s shoulders, the woman hiding her face against Maude’s coat and shaking, “A warrant has already been issued for his arrest. It’s part of the reason I want to testify at Outer Eighth instead of just at Fourth Court, I want to see how they’re responding.”

And Jaina hadn’t been willing to leave Maude alone after Kari’s alert, so they had reorganized their walk to run Jaina’s errand first. It had only been after they’d started this way that it had occurred to them that Maude testifying to her brother’s former coworkers that she had been held under the Oathbreaker’s spellcraft could be invaluable in rehabilitating his reputation, or at least making it less likely any useful information he tried to pass along to them would be ignored, as his former attempts to gain help apparently had been.

“We’re heading there too,” Bretta said, pulling back from Maude’s hold and fishing a handkerchief out of her pocket, wiping her eyes, “I need to find Bron and tell him Gari’s free. He – he might know where Vars is, but if he doesn’t know Gari’s free… he can’t get away, Maude, he can’t.”

Maude hushed her when the woman started shaking again, but didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. Neither of them could offer Bretta assurances, only hopes. With any luck they could get this woman to claim sanctuary too, at the very least for her son’s sake, but someone like Vars… he would hurt plenty of others on his way out, and wherever he ended up was in for suffering as well. She hated it.

You had best be damn certain in the claim you are making, certain enough to stake your own life and soul on it.

She had not had the privilege of witnessing the Hunting Rite. She did not know the process that needed to be done, but if she asked, Bellamy would tell her, even if she had to miss tomorrow’s summary session with the Justicars and archivists. He likely wouldn’t hesitate even if he knew she was asking for more than academic reasons, not with someone like Vars as her target. Getting ahold of three things which were his might be more difficult, but it sounded like he taunted these people regularly, and Bretta’s husband might know some of his haunts. She’d be able to find three things, especially with a day to arrange it.

Convince these three to claim sanctuary for one night. If he wasn’t caught by tomorrow afternoon, she would go Hunting. Darius Vars would face mortal justice, and be ushered off to face true Judgment as soon as possible, may the schemers behind this plot quickly find themselves in the coldest of hells.

“Sanctuary – I haven’t heard one of those stories in a long time. Wonder if it’s still on the books after this Conclave they’ve mentioned.”

“Silas Torchkeeper, isn’t it?”

“One of the better known ones, yes.”

“Ivan and I could be persuaded to request that details of that story next, you know!”

Chapter Text

Kavrick had seen Valerik in various less than ideal conditions over their decades of friendship. He never went out drinking with the man; Valerik had offered, once, but fortunately had the forethought to see how he could hold his liquor in the Hall before taking him to a bar. The discovery that Kavrick was a very maudlin drunk had quickly shelved any plans Valerik had to add a regular drinking buddy to his Val identity. Kavrick hadn’t particularly wanted to accompany Valerik anyway, because he would have felt obligated to stay somewhat sober, so had never pointed out that getting him drunk the week after Fredric was ordained and stationed out of Sunhame had been asking for tears.

Rubbing his face tiredly, he sat down in the chair by Valerik’s bedside and let himself breathe. He should probably be helping Lumira ride herd on Her Eminence’s Sunsguard, as they were likely growing a little impatient, and Maltin was far from engrossed in his quest for Vanya Flamesinger’s compositions now that the Eldest was back and so obviously strained from what he had managed, reminding his student anew of the danger everyone else had been in at various points today. Hells, Fabron and Tristan couldn’t be far off, they had verified that the western charity ward had no volatiles relatively quickly and had no reason to stay there, they would be back soon and with the Eldest currently unavailable he was technically in charge.

He would go back out. He just – needed a moment.

Ari bless, when Valerik had staggered out of those flames with Kari, Kavrick had thought his friend was dying, forget what anyone had said. He had looked terrible, not even accounting for the blood that coated his face and entire front, and had been freezing besides. Those years of hauling a less-than-sober Valerik out of sight had come in handy, and fortunately, while Valerik was out of it, he wasn’t so far gone that Kavrick had to manhandle him through the entire process of cleaning up and changing into dry clothes. He’d had to do that exactly twice, and each time Valerik had apologetically managed to get his hands on the ridiculously hard to find candied ginger Fredric had gotten him addicted to during all-nighter study sessions that they could have been more effective about using for actual studying.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kavrick counted his breathing.

Holiness Yelena, every bit as terrifying as one would expect out of a person Colbern had once described as an expert at head injuries and the mental strain caused by magical backlash, had been able to ensure Valerik’s seizure had no lasting effects. She had claimed he would likely wake up in a few marks, and had warned him that Valerik should avoid using any form of Talent – which had been an interesting way to phrase the warning, since last he had heard there was still some debate as to whether or not magecraft was a Talent – for at least a week, and even then not to do anything more strenuous than a mage-light or setting off pre-crafted spells for another two. Perhaps overly cautious, she had allowed, but in her estimation, the strength of the geas he had been fighting off could very easily have killed him.

He had almost lost his student yesterday. Today he had almost lost his best friend.

Two moons ago he had lost every possible regard for a man he had thought there was a chance he could love.

“This year has been an ordeal,” he muttered to no one.

Hearing a rap on the door, he shoved himself to his feet and pulled it open, feeling his breathing ease when Maltin looked up at him, Flamesinger biography clutched to his chest. No panicked running like when the Eldest had first shown up, no shouts of alarm like when Valerik had collapsed into his arms. It was fine.

“Maltin,” he murmured, hesitating before offering, “We can go elsewhere, if you’d like, or you can come in.”

“Here’s fine,” his student said quietly, slipping through the doorway when he stepped aside and settling into one of the two chairs while Kavrick shut the door again.

“Is Holiness Valerik going to be all right?” Maltin asked, glancing the sleeping man’s way and frowning, “He looks cold.”

“He was cold,” Kavrick said, smiling wryly and waving to the small stove every one of their rooms held, still radiating warmth and freshly stocked with coal, “I was adding coal and warming bricks for his bed the moment we got the call, it’s the middle of winter and he was apparently left underground all night. He’ll be all right, Maltin. Holiness Yelena said he should wake up within a few marks at most. Shouldn’t do any spellcraft for a week, and nothing more strenuous than a mage light for two.”

Maltin nodded, clearly thinking that over, before his student sighed and said wryly, “So we’re heading out of Sunhame with him as soon as he can ride?”

Kavrick scoffed, “Definitely not. It’s Henrik’s turn. Besides, we have our own recoveries to manage.”

Maltin winced, glancing at the book in his lap, and Kavrick felt his throat close up, because had Maltin known, about the possible source of his skill with illusions? Of his ability to draw people into feeling what he needed them to through his music?

When Maltin had nearly snared Laskaris in his illusions, the other priest had shaken off the shock and laughed, telling Kavrick he should be proud of his student, and telling his student that he needed to get better at targeting his illusions so random passerby weren’t caught up in them. He had pulled Laskaris aside to thank the younger man for his forbearance later, because he knew how much Laskaris hated it when spellcraft of any sort interfered with his mental awareness, but the man had waved it off as a training accident, as something Maltin could learn to avoid doing, and as a promising sign for his future skill level.

When Kavrick had thought Maltin’s knack for that sort of magic was just that, a knack, he had thought the same. Had thought it would serve Maltin well and had started strategizing over how he could teach the necessary control and finesse.

But a Talent? He had no idea how to teach that. If it even could be taught, but it must be, because the Eldest and the Enforcer had that mindspeaking Talent and weren’t drowning in other peoples’ thoughts or constantly projecting their own to the world. But that seemed entirely different from the one Maltin likely had, was that sort of trainability even possible for this musical heart-twisting? Heart-reading, the Eldest had suggested. It was a kind name.

His student was such a kind person.

Would Laskaris still say Kavrick should be proud of his student, when he knew?

“If – if I can’t control it. The golden fire. What… what will we do?” Maltin asked, head still bowed.

“You will apparently get very good at whistling,” Kavrick said, reaching forward to grab his student’s hands, “Maltin, I realize this is hard to believe right now, hells I’m having a hard time believing it, I was so terrified I’d lost you, but this is a good thing. Maltin, without you, we’d have never even thought to reconsider our ideas of Vanya Flamesinger. We’d have never known that sun-blessed steel sings to more than just those with the Eldest and Rodri’s Talent – “

His blood ran cold when his student gave a single, shuddering sob.

“I have one, don’t I?” Maltin asked, hands shaking but not pulling them from Kavrick’s hold, “That’s – that’s why I can hear it, like they do.”

“I…” Kavrick hesitated, knowing his hesitation was answer enough, but he couldn’t lie to his student; he had promised Maltin he would never lie to him, though he had reserved the right to refuse to answer.

But he couldn’t refuse to answer this. Maltin already knew.

Seras could yell at him for careless treatment of a book later. Kavrick tossed the text aside when Maltin started truly sobbing, hauling his student into his arms and not able to whisper any of the reassurances he normally would, because what could he possibly say?

“I’m here,” he finally settled on, carding his fingers through Maltin’s hair, short-cropped though it was, “I’m here, Maltin, I’ve got you.”

“I should be dead.”

“No!” Kavrick insisted, dropping to his knees in front of Maltin’s chair and forcing his student to look at him, grabbing his student’s hands again and knowing his grip was white-knuckled, “No, Maltin, no, that’s not true!”

“It is!” Maltin insisted, shuddering, tears running down his face still, “I – I didn’t know I couldn’t have hidden it I never knew and the only reason they never thought to report me as a witch was – was because that would mean I got away from them and that was too much mercy but they should have – “

“Listen to me, Maltin, listen to me,” Kavrick interrupted the most horrifying rant he’d ever had to hear come out of Maltin’s mouth, including the time his student had listed off the latest round of insults and he’d had to explain what a catamite even was those absolute wretched little worms.

“Maltin,” Kavrick started, inhaling shakily and remembering Jaina’s horrified realization that she would have burned their Eldest and felt righteous doing it, had she known he was Talented before this year. He had suffered a similar realization when he heard confirmation that Rodri had a Talent, because Rodri had a remarkable ability to make Maltin laugh, and he had been more than a little fond of their Initiate for it.

Had he known Rodri was Talented, even Talented with fire rather than any of the more damning mental Talents, he would have killed him. He would have grieved, and possibly arranged for the death to be by some other means than fire, but he would have killed him.

Even that alternate death would have been practicality, more than mercy.

What would he have done, if he had found evidence – found proof – that Maltin was a musical heart-reader?

“The odds were always against you,” he finally said, voice choked, “You were brought in at five, Maltin, that is so young. You have had so many chances to die, and you have gotten past every single one. So when you say you should be dead – if one looked at your situation logically, assessed the hand you were given – yes. You should be dead.

“But you aren’t, Maltin, you aren’t and perhaps it is mind-boggling to contemplate, all the ways things could have been only a little different, but they didn’t go that way and I thank the Sunlord every day for that. I have thanked the Sunlord for your survival since I’ve known you, and knowing now that there was yet another way you could have died only means those prayers are going to be more ardent.”

Pulling his student back into a hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of Maltin’s head and murmured, “I am blessed every day to have you as a student. Finding out that you have some sort of – of musically inclined Talent does not change that. We will figure this out, Maltin, I swear to you. We will figure this out, and you will keep living, understood?”

Maltin nodded against his shoulder, and he decided he’d take it. Looking up from his student, he caught sight of Valerik, awake and propped up on one arm to stare at them, a worried expression on his face. Kavrick knew he should give the man some sort of reassuring smile, some sort of indication that things were all right, but his student had just had an entirely understandable breakdown and regardless of his words he had no idea what they were going to do, what they even could do aside from what they were already doing, and he just couldn’t.

Valerik, fortunately, always knew just how to snap him out of a mood.

“Can you lot cry quieter?” the man grumbled, flopping back on his pillow and expression losing all traces of concern and worry while Maltin shoved himself back and scrambled to his feet.

“Oh please, like you didn’t wake half the complex with your sobbing when Henrik burned your alcohol stash and claimed it was to help Laskaris practice for his Second Order Trial,” Kavrick scoffed, rising and feeling a pang of worry when Maltin pressed close to his side and didn’t try to step away when he wrapped an arm around his student’s shoulders.

Valerik’s eyes narrowed, undoubtedly catching the same thing, and his tone went as soft as it ever went barring literal kittens as he said, “You look terrible, kid.”

“You’re one to talk,” Maltin scoffed, both priests letting his shaky voice slide for the moment, too relieved he at least still felt comfortable enough around them to banter, “You look like death warmed over.”

“He usually does,” Kavrick said dryly.

“See if I ever try to be comforting again,” Valerik snorted, and Kavrick was about to snipe back when he saw Valerik shiver.

“Still cold?” he demanded, Maltin stepping away from his side and snagging the book off the ground before they earned Seras’ eternal wrath by stepping on it or kicking it aside.

“Bit,” Valerik grumbled, pulling the blankets Kavrick had piled on him further up his shoulders, “Fuck, I’m lucky I didn’t end up with frostbite.”

“Last night was on the warmer side, but it could have happened,” Kavrick agreed, pressing the back of his hand to Valerik’s forehead and grimacing, “You’re still a little cool to the touch, that’s less than ideal – “

A hideous knit hat smacked Valerik in the face and the man spluttered, Kavrick cackling at his expression and definitely not dissolving into hysterical giggles while he tried to shove it onto Valerik’s head.

“Ah hells, Kavrick,” he heard Valerik mutter, feeling the man sit up and grab him in a hug, regardless of his shivering.

“This year has been a disaster,” Kavrick managed, burying his face in Valerik’s shoulder, “Mostly a good disaster, but some pieces…”

“Yeah, I could have done without the whole Loshern proves me right about being a waste of space bit myself,” Valerik grumbled, “Forget this whole Oathbreaking frame job seizure disaster. How long have I been out?”

“Not too long,” Maltin said, Kavrick feeling the edge of the bed sink when Maltin sat down next to them, “Holiness Yelena healed you, says you can’t do magic for a week, and nothing stronger than a mage light for two.”

“Yelena? Colbern’s Yelena? Is she as terrifying as we thought?”

“She is,” Kavrick said, sitting upright and smirking, “She’s also young enough to be his daughter, so I think you lost that bet.”

“Damn it, of course I did,” Valerik muttered, wincing as he leaned back against the wall, tucking a blanket around his shoulders and settling the hat Maltin had found properly, “Still, a real healer. Didn’t think I’d ever rank one of those.”

“I think they’re allowed to pick who they treat themselves now,” Kavrick reminded him, “Or at least they’re not restricted from healing anyone, should they want to. You nearly died, Valerik.”

“I know,” Valerik admitted, gaze dark, “Being honest, Kavrick, didn’t think I’d make it out when I told Nolans to take that fucking bracelet off my wrist. Figured the spells were killing me as it was, I had a better chance at living if it was gone, but with that strong a geas? I figured it’d kill me, and with any luck the shields that kept people from finding me would go with it. I couldn’t even remember Kari was an option until the bracelet was gone, pain was so bad.”

“Damn it,” Kavrick swore, clenching his fists in his own vestments, knuckles white, “I really could have lost both of you.”

“Eh. If Maltin had died yesterday, I wouldn’t have gone out to drink, give me some credit, I’d be drowning my own tears here,” Valerik said, nudging the acolyte with a faint smile and switching the topic entirely, “What book are you looking at? Looks like a Flamesinger text? Any new theories? I’ll bet Flamesinger had the same Talent you do, not that I have any idea how we’ll prove it.”

“Oh,” Maltin said, sounding startled and staring at the book in his hands, “I… I didn’t. Think of that.”

“Well it’s either that or the one Rodri and the Eldest have, with that obsession with sun-blessed steel, and if Flamesinger had that Talent I don’t think there’d be so much emphasis on him using instruments in his adventures, he would just make fire happen,” Valerik pointed out, shrugging, “It’s just a thought though. He was long enough ago, who knows. Anyway, theories?”

“I think – some of his compositions were trying to make the same song as sun-blessed steel?” Maltin offered, Kavrick immediately intrigued and knowing Valerik felt the same.

“Oh really?” Kavrick prompted, “Which ones?”

Valerik dozed off partway through Maltin’s explanation, and Kavrick honestly only knew as much about music as he did because of Maltin’s own interest so most of what Maltin was saying about timing and oddities in the arrangement and tune flew right over his head. But his student was sounding properly animated after a few minutes of explaining, and that was more than enough to keep him interested.

Hopefully the Eldest or his Enforcer had some idea how to train musical heart-reading. He wanted to let Maltin sign up for as many music classes as his student’s schedule could fit.

=pagebreak=

Corporal Mikel Ashler had been having a very interesting year, and today promised to put a proper feather in the whole thing, particularly given the Fourth Court messenger who’d been waiting at the Sector Station when his squad finally returned after the most exciting few marks he’d ever spent at a Temple, including his little sister’s wedding. He had never thought Darius Vars would actually be charged for his crimes. Certainly not before the reforms, and even afterwards he had been rather resigned to the fact the man would get away with what he had done. With what he was likely still doing.

But now?

Orders for Vars’ arrest had been issued, signed by a First Order Justicar, a First Order Justicar he’d seen talking to two Firecats and the Enforcer who’d manifested the Voice of Vkandis Sunlord with some sort of Rite even the Firestarters he’d been working alongside had spoken of with awe – and, if he wasn’t mistaken, if he wasn’t completely off-base –

He hadn’t said anything. Wouldn’t say anything, until it was confirmed. But he was pretty sure the one non-uniformed man standing near the Justicar’s group had been Corporal Nolans. Seeing his once-Corporal standing with a Justicar – standing with a Justicar and being listened to, to all appearances – it was a good sign. It was an excellent sign, and not only because if anyone would have had enough information to get charges to properly stick to that bastard Darius Vars it was Mikel’s former superior.

If charges did stick, if whatever had kept Corporal Nolans from getting the appeal he was entitled to had actually gotten worked around or through… he might finally have a chance to at least try and pay the man back. The debt he owed his former Corporal was one he’d never be able to truly repay, but he had to try. He had tried, had tried to get people to listen to him when he said Garth Nolans was more than Darius Vars’ right hand. Had never been Darius Vars’ right hand, not really.

But no one would believe him. He had been transferred out of that squad within two moons of being transferred in, and Corporal Nolans had thrown so much effort into getting him out that his records had emerged with enough questions and smudges that he had spent six years in the Outer Eighth with a promotion to Senior Patrolman only in the last two. Before Her Eminence, before everything in the upper echelons of Karse changed to practically unrecognizable overnight, he had expected another six years before he ever got promoted to Corporal, if he ever did. He could probably have made it faster, have been promoted in a timely fashion rather than as a last resort, if he had transferred, but all his family was here in the Eighth.

Instead, within a moon of Captain Marghi taking the reins, he’d been called in and debriefed on what the hell was up with his records and been promptly promoted to Corporal because apparently he was long overdue. The Captain had even flat out admitted that Mikel would have gone straight to Sergeant if Captain Marghi hadn’t thought the jump would be too much to for Mikel to manage after so many years of carefully stomped out ambition.

As it was, he knew exactly what getting sent out as one of three Corporals in a cluster of two squads with one Sergeant meant, and it had only been three moons since he’d made Corporal but finally he once again wanted. He had dreamed of being a Sergeant, once. Had once dared to imagine being a Lieutenant, getting a chance to be Shift Lead, but he had let those dreams die years ago and considered them the price of escaping Darius Vars, and a price he was more than willing to pay a thousand times over.

Corporal Nolans had saved him, and it had taken until Mikel’s own promotion to Corporal to truly realize what sort of favors his former superior had to have burned through to get him out, all on a weakly worded request to perhaps not get assigned shifts with Vars alone, because he had sisters.

Corporal Nolans had a sister too.

Flexing his fingers as he passed the testimony copy to the dockyard warehouse worker who’d been used by the Oathbreaker as a means of covering for smuggling and covering for mysteriously appearing corpses, he scrawled out the reference number and name of the witness on his own tally sheet of people who might have been adjacently involved in the charity temple complex issue. This man didn’t know exactly what the containers he was supposed to miscount contained, but the warehouses were told if potentially volatile things were stored in them, and he had been told to miscount a stack of ‘handle with care’ containers a few times in the last moons. Better than even odds, if Mikel had to put a number on it.

Tallies of those witness reports was one column on his scrap paper, the rest was an outline of things to include in his own report and things he wanted to research or ask about after he’d written his formal report up. One thing about all the upheaval lately, people were a lot more willing to answer and ask questions about processes and procedures and the why behind those things. With as much that had shifted and was still shifting, they had to ask. Besides, he highly doubted anyone knew what the proper terminology was for ‘suspect captured by intervention from the Sunlord Himself’, it wasn’t like they could ask the Sunlord to write a report of the capture for cross-referencing! Hells, figuring out how to properly reference whatever reports the Firestarters wrote up would be awkward enough, if Firestarters even wrote reports for them to cross-reference…

Fortunately, he was only a Corporal on track to be promoted to Sergeant. Those problems were definitely the Captain’s.

The dockyard worker, who had given his name as Niel, no surname, was mouthing the words to himself as he went. He didn’t seem to be struggling to read it overmuch, so Mikel didn’t offer to get one of the other men working as testimony takers to read it aloud. He’d only taken down four testimonies so far, and had yet to call on someone to do a read-back instead of a read-through by the witness themselves, but Outer Eighth or not, this was Sunhame. Most people were reasonably literate.

Reaching the end, the man nodded and said, “Agree with it, Corporal.”

“All right. Sign at the bottom, and I’ll sign after you. Would you like a copy?”

“Yes, Corporal.”

Mikel nodded agreeably and pulled a fresh piece of paper over, giving his hand one last shake before picking up his pen and starting on the heading for a witness-owned copy of verified testimony. Even without today’s insane amount of writing, he had been spending some time every evening practicing writing with his off hand. Seeing Corporal Nolans write reports with alternating hands had put the idea in his head back when he was first starting out in the Sunsguard, though it had taken until this past year for him to actually follow through on it. Senior Patrolmen didn’t have much paperwork to do on their own, after all.

He was still nowhere near good enough to use his off-hand for writing official documents, but he was definitely getting better.

Halfway through the copy, he heard shouting from outside and deliberately set his pen aside, as he’d rather not startle and blot ink all over his writing and have to start over again –

Even with the heads up he jumped half-out of his skin when the front door slammed open, the Captain’s raised voice sending all of the Sunsguard in earshot to attention –

“ – every last one of his willing accomplices and I’ll be damned if any of them get away, he is going to be taken in properly and questioned thoroughly. If he dies or is crippled or that goal is in any way compromised under my watch I will arrest the person responsible for being one of those accomplices!”

He had literally only ever heard the Captain shout once in the moons since he’d first taken over the Station and that had been a call to attention in a crowded briefing. Whoever had prodded the Captain into that sort of cold rage was very likely sincerely regretting their decision to open their mouth, Mikel was half-regretting having to hear it.

The Captain finally crossed the threshold after Senior Lieutenant Bron and the unconscious man they were hauling between them and his furious gaze swept the completely silent station before demanding, “Do I need to repeat myself or is my sentiment understood?”

“Understood, sir!” they chorused, snapping off salutes that the Captain couldn’t return, arm hooked under the unconscious man’s shoulder as it was, but that he at least nodded in acknowledgment of.

“Is that Vars?” Sergeant Oskar managed, voice strangled.

“Yes,” the Captain said shortly, speaking straight over the rash of whispers and mutters and shocked oaths that broke out at that confirmation, “Patrolman, you’re from Fourth Court. Orders for Vars’ arrest included in your messages or not?”

“Ah – they were, Captain,” the messenger said, offering a salute and looking a little startled at the question and the foreknowledge it implied, “Orders for Vars’ arrest and details on handling testimony regarding the Oathbreaker. Announced them to your men, sir, seeing as people had already arrived to offer that testimony.”

“Appreciated,” the Captain said, eyeing a pair of soldiers without anyone offering testimony at the moment and saying, “I’m stealing that desk.”

Mikel had to sit down again, couldn’t spend his entire time drinking in the sight of Darius Vars arrested, actually caught. He had a job to do. But he still watched for a few moments more, as the Captain shoved Vars into a chair and hooked his bound arms over the back, accepted the set of scrolls from the Fourth Court’s patrolman, told the civilian man who’d followed him in to offer testimony to the two soldiers he’d stolen the desk from if the man would be so kind, and ordered Senior Lieutenant Bron to sit down and breathe for a few moments before heading out for his next task, whatever that was.

The Captain’s face was bleeding. Looked like someone had clawed his cheek. He didn’t seem to care at all, and was very definitely keeping one eye on Vars at all times.

Finally, Mikel had to tear his gaze away, and he found his witness staring at him with as much terrifyingly wild relief – as much hope – as he himself felt. Hopefully he was a little less obvious. But perhaps it didn’t matter if he wasn’t. Let the man recognize the same thing in him, know that it wasn’t just civilians who’d lived in terror of Vars’ reach.

He’d never dared dream Darius Vars would actually be caught.

“I’d like to add some things to my testimony, Corporal,” the dockyard worker admitted.

Mikel had to grin, even if that meant he had to rewrite everything again. He’d rewrite every report he’d ever filed in his life if it meant Darius Vars stayed caught.

They were halfway through the rewrite of Niel’s testimony – nothing truly changed, but some details the man had carefully danced around or glossed over were fleshed out, were added, now that he didn’t have Vars’ presence hanging over his head – when another set of people entered aside from the seemingly never-ending stream of people forming the queue for offering testimony against the Oathbreaker.

“Papa!”

Senior Lieutenant Bron gave a gutted sob at the shout, Mikel watching as Gari slammed into the Senior Lieutenant’s arms with tears running down his own face as he promised, “It’s gone the curse is gone they can’t make me sick anymore it’s okay papa, I’m okay.”

Mikel had to put his pen over his scrap paper when that properly registered, when he truly realized what little Gari was saying. His nephew was Gari’s age, they were even playmates, though that was irregular, given how frequently he was ill. Dangerous to let your kids play with someone ill so regularly for their own sake, forget worries on Gari’s parents’ end about their son being exposed to something.

Apparently, very little of that sickliness had been natural.

“Ah hells. And he still arrested Vars?” he heard Niel mutter, sounding a perfectly understandable mix of horrified and impressed. He could see more than a few people blanching, giving the family sympathetic glances, ducking their heads and looking ashamed. The Captain grabbed the Fourth Court’s messenger and hauled him to stand where he’d block Vars’ sight of the small family if he woke up anytime soon. Or at least give them a chance to get the family out of there if Vars woke up anytime soon; Mikel was definitely praying the man remained unconscious until safely in Fourth Court’s custody – hopefully whoever the Captain had sent with word of Vars’ capture was moving fast.

“Mistress Jana,” the Captain greeted one of the two women who’d followed Bretta and Gari in, and the moment Mikel heard her name he realized why she looked familiar. Val and Jana were more than a little infamous in the Outer Eighth Sector Station, after all. “You found your brother then?”

“Maude’s brother found my brother, Captain, but he has been found at least. Not entirely sure why the Oathbreaker thought the two of them were the best people to frame for this whole destroy the charity temple plot, but fortunately that’s for the Justicar to figure out,” the famously younger-and-more-sensible Jana said, certainly sounding very sensible.

“Oh it sounds like a very nested plan,” the Captain agreed, apparently having heard things about whatever this plan involved beyond destroying a charity temple. The target definitely implied politics were involved somehow, and thank the Sunlord that was definitely not his problem to deal with and Blessed Souls watch over the Captain while he dealt with it. Mikel wouldn’t trade places with him for all the gold in the District.

With that in mind, he focused back on his actual job, catching Niel’s gaze and murmuring apologies for taking so long.

The dockyard worker grinned at him and said quietly, “Oh don’t apologize, Corporal. I’ll be getting free drinks for this story the rest of the winter!”

=pagebreak=

Her brother’s fires had been subsiding, so far as Solaris had been able to tell. Fewer proper flames, though still plenty of shortlived sparks, and those that did bloom to full flame faded quickly. There had been flares, sharp spikes in activity and intensity, which she suspected were in direct response to whatever Kir was hearing from Anur about the ongoing investigation, but in between those surges things had been steadily calming.

At least until a few moments ago.

“Kir,” she said gently, watching as cords of fire crawled over their outstretched legs and the Firecat sprawled across them, “Hearing about this ongoing investigation is hardly restful. Your fires are growing stronger again.”

Her brother flinched away, and Solaris hurriedly caught him around the shoulders and pulled him back to rest against her shoulder, murmuring, “Easy, brother. If they grow stronger, they grow stronger. But if this is due to stress, I would prefer to stop seeking out stressful things. Your brother can handle himself. If he needs aid, he will call. Or Aelius will call on his behalf, at the very least.”

Solaris smiled at her brother’s laugh, and felt her smile widen when fires started winking out without being immediately replaced. Better. Not as good as it had gotten before Kir started hearing something consistently and unceasingly distressing, but better.

“You understand Aelius and Anur disturbingly well, for having first spoken to Aelius yesterday,” Kir commented, voice still a little raspy.

“I am rather familiar with the behavior of ardently protective brothers dealing with overly self-sacrificing siblings,” she replied pointedly, but didn’t quite manage to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Kir paused, before carefully letting more of his weight rest against her side as he murmured, “Apologies, sister.”

She snorted, shaking her head and retorting, “For what, managing to save innocent lives and drag a nest of corruption and extortion into the light, all before noon? You have nothing to apologize for. I simply worried, and hearing you say you would be strained and injured is entirely different from seeing you under so much strain and so recently injured. The fact I can do nothing to help makes it worse. The fact that I missed this – ”

“We’re all going to be kicking ourselves for missing things we had no reason to notice without the benefit of hindsight,” Kir interrupted, sounding truly exhausted, “Let’s not start doing that now.”

Undoubtedly, Solaris knew, her brother already was.

“A distraction, then,” she said firmly, “Something utterly unrelated to today’s disaster. Give me a moment to think of something.”

“I have something,” Kir offered, and she raised an eyebrow, hearing grief in his voice.

“This does not sound like something undistressing,” she protested.

“But it is important, and time sensitive,” Kir countered, choking on a cough and hurriedly turning away from her and leaning over gravel, Solaris hastily hooking her arm around his torso and taking a fair bit of her brother’s weight as he pinched his nose. Blood clot must have come loose. It was a good thing he had insisted on getting out of his vestments. She had initially protested because they were at least wool; his standard issue Sunsguard uniform was winter weight, certainly, but without any of the associated outerwear it wasn’t particularly warm in and of itself. At least with this much fire in the air they had some insulation, and Kari was an excellent Cat-sized blanket. So long as she could keep her brother from deciding he didn’t need to sit next to her, they should be all right. Barring too much more blood loss, at least.

Grimacing as she waited for her brother to decide to try and sit up straight again, she murmured, “Speak of darkness and it comes. Are you going to be all right, Kir? This is – rather extreme.”

“You didn’t see me after the Comb Fire,” Kir retorted hoarsely, “This strain is – not quite as bad, I would say. But I wasn’t physically injured, it was only strain from my Talent. The combination is the problem.”

:Aelius said the Comb Fire was similarly difficult, but different enough in mechanism he couldn’t properly compare the efforts. You’d know best,: Kari admitted, still sounding worried, :Knowing it could be worse really doesn’t help though.:

“It never does,” Kir replied wearily, slowly moving his hands away from his face and not quite sighing in relief when the new clot evidently held. Solaris waited a few moments longer before pulling him back up to lean against her shoulder again.

“Your Conclave’s meals have already been arranged, haven’t they?” Solaris asked, eyeing the handkerchief that Holiness Lumira would certainly not be getting back, “You’ve lost a fair bit of blood today.”

“There’s some sort of meat tonight I think, and I have nut-based ration bars I can eat before then,” Kir said, reaching for his mug and making a face when he took a sip, continuing, “Honestly I don’t know much about the Conclave beyond the writings of formal procedure and what others have told me. Logistics wise, I asked Jaina what I needed to do for the Conclave a few moons ago and she told me that aspect was nearly entirely hands-off on our part, she simply confirms a head count to the appropriate people a few weeks ahead of time and food and the like arrives as needed.”

“Fair enough,” Solaris said, admitting ruefully, “You know well how to take care of yourself, brother, I just – I worry. And of all my Councilors you are certainly the most injury prone!”

“Here’s hoping you didn’t curse them,” Kir chuckled, and Solaris groaned.

“You and I both know that is not remotely how curses work, but I certainly understand the thought process behind that belief! Hopefully not, I think Anur has cursed us more than enough for this year.”

“True, but the year is almost over…”

“The clear solution is to change our timekeeping system! The years are now counted at Midsummer,” Solaris declared, tossing her head exaggeratedly. If Kir was feeling up to teasing, that was only to be encouraged, “That should get us through quite a few events without complications.”

“Hardorn invading and Valdemar? I think you are asking a little too much, Solaris,” Kir replied dryly.

“Oh I know, and Ulrich would be the first of a line of scholars to have my head for changing the timekeeping system so abruptly, but it is a nice dream,” Solaris said wistfully, before shaking her head and resting her cheek against her brother’s hair, saying quietly, “Right then. Something time sensitive and important, though distressing. No chance we can postpone that and discuss something that won’t distress you further?”

“I think the latter is asking too much again,” Kir murmured, next inhale worringly shaky before he continued, “In Valdemar, they have what is called mind-healers. I don’t know what exactly that means, but there is some form of trained heart-reading involved. Perhaps other things. Would soul-healing serve a similar need?”

“Hmm. Without speaking to a mind-healer so Talented, I can’t say for certain,” Solaris said, intrigued at the idea. It was certainly a societal need, and one that supposedly priests and priestesses were trained to fill, if without Talents to assist them. Finding priests and priestesses who actually could fill that societal need was another matter entirely, especially with as many people who undoubtedly needed that sort of assistance in these chaotic times.

Though if Kir was focusing on the Talent aspect he could be missing a key point of what her answer relied on.

“Kir, counseling members of your congregation can provide some of that healing you are speaking of,” she pointed out, “Not so quickly or efficiently as someone with a Talent might be able to, with only being able to use words, but trauma can be worked through with no Talent to assist at all, sometimes at least.”

“Yes, because so many come to a Firestarter for counseling,” Kir retorted, which she did not protest only because he managed to continue before she found the right words, admitting, “I think there were classes on that, for pastoral priests? Red robes?”

“Some black robes as well, it wasn’t restricted based on field,” Solaris corrected, feeling more resigned than furious at the holes in her brother’s education, holes he had never even been allowed to try and fill, “You never got to take those.”

“Definitely not,” Kir said, huffing a laugh, “Though to be honest considering the previous regime – those could go very badly.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say they were particularly helpful all of the time, but they put us in contact with people to discuss ideas and experiences with,” Solaris agreed frankly, “Some of the instructors were good, some were less than, as is the usual. Curriculum redesign has been a project there too. Everywhere, really, though some less than others. Back to the soul-healers versus mind healers bit – Anika Brersi is a soul-healer. Ulrich is as well, and I am capable of it, though never formally trained as such. Exorcists in particular are trained to do a soul-healer’s job without that… well. I do not think it is a Talent, as we are calling them. Without that knack, I suppose. It takes longer without it, does not heal quite as thoroughly as it might for a gifted soul-healer, but it can be done. It requires – more trust, between the victim and the healer, than the gifted individual might need. A person with that knack would be able to affect healing without building a true rapport, though of course that rapport would assist.”

She could go on, of course, it was a fascinating idea to puzzle out the potential differences and similarities between what they called soul-healing and what the Valdemarans apparently called mind-healing, but Kir had asked for a time sensitive reason that she had yet to hear about.

“What brought this up?” she prompted, “I suppose you’re wondering what we have that could fill in for a mind-healer?”

“Mental scars caused by a heart-reader gone mad,” Kir said lowly, “Who would be most effective for healing those? Aelius said a trained to heal heart-reader, which is obviously not an option, but Kari says a soul-healer could work, who are our options in Sunhame?”

“Hmm. How dire is the situation?”

“Scars are from a suicide compulsion done years ago, the man only survived because I showed up in time to stop him. Thoughts of suicide occur too frequently and are very hard to turn aside ever since,” Kir replied, shuddering, and Solaris was hard pressed not to echo it, “I never followed up after that first meeting. I should have, curse it all, but it didn’t occur to me there would be lasting after effects.”

:Why would it?: Kari inserted, tone pointed and evidently knowing far more about this situation than she did, :Anur was caught up in it, Aelius was caught in it, as were Devek Koshiro and Galen Sescha! None of them had after effects, or at least if they did they weren’t ever brought up to you. Why would you assume one out of five had lingering trauma when four out of five showed no signs of further issues?:

Those few details were enough for her to know dodging this topic wasn’t possible, and she sighed, cutting Kir off mid-retort with a wry, “You are not going to like my answer.”

Her brother paused, lifting his head to stare at her and looking unfortunately wary, “What are you talking about?”

Perhaps if she guided him to the proper conclusion, he would have fewer objections. Unlikely, of course, but possible. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What do four out of the five unaffected victims have in common, Kir?”

He looked genuinely confused, before finally hazarding a guess, “Ah… I know them better?”

“Blessed Souls lend me strength,” she muttered, giving up on guiding him to any sort of answer and saying bluntly, “Kir. They were with you. My list of available soul healers in Sunhame has your name on it.”

“That’s not possi – “

“Kir,” Solaris interrupted, voice stern, and she felt her heart break when her brother flinched away at her tone. At the topic she had brought up.

Exhaling slowly, she tipped forward to rest her brow against his and was heartened to see him smile at the gesture she had most definitely stolen from watching him and Anur interact, saying quietly, “There is a difference, brother, between humility and lack of self-awareness. It took me far too long to realize that far too often, you fell into the latter. At least when it comes to realizing the good that you are capable of, the good that you do.”

“I’m not a healer,” Kir said quietly.

“You help your unit’s medic treat injuries,” she pointed out, “You removed bishra from the lungs of well over fifty people.”

“That’s not healing, that’s - !”

“Healing is a process,” Solaris interrupted, wanting to drive her point home, “What Holiness Yelena and Holiness Coric can do is one way to help that natural process along. The magecraft Holiness Jaina is trained to use alongside stiches and ointments is another. The removal of poisons and drains, easing pain – all of those are other ways to help that process along. Soul-healing is separate from all of that.”

Kir was shaking.

“I’m not a healer,” he repeated.

Solaris had no idea how to reach him. No idea how to truly explain what she was trying to say without running into her brother’s thrice-damned belief that the Sunlord would only ever smile upon him as an ultimate last resort.

That deeply entrenched belief had been the main reason she hadn’t informed him of his position as her successor, should the worst happen. Oh certainly, she had considered the point moot after Hansa’s arrival, but it had not taken long after their second in-person meeting to realize that what she had thought of as humility, as a virtuous trait that would serve him well, was in fact a genuine belief that any sign of the Sunlord’s favor had nothing to do with him. Telling him he was her successor, should the worst occur, that he was the emergency back up plan to keep their revolution on track, would only reinforce that, did only reinforce that. Left him believing that the Sunlord would favor him only when there were no other options.

Even claiming that would end in arguments; the only explanation for the clear signs of the Sunlord’s favor that Kir would accept were those focusing on the righteousness of the causes Kir pursued, on the fact that he was acting in her name and for her benefit. It had nothing to do with him. Her other Councilors had not helped; when they had ended up explicitly discussing the fact he was no longer to be considered her successor, thanks to Hansa’s presence, their cheerful agreements to Kir’s wry words about the sort of revolution his Ascent would have implied had left no room for doubt. None of them – none of them – realized how well Kir could have done. Would have done, had he been called to. They all genuinely believed the only reform Kir could lead would be one of blood and ashes.

Her reforms were being enforced with blood and ashes. Her Ascent had been paved with blood and ashes. She could not save everyone, no matter how she tried, today’s fiasco was more than proof enough of that, and a very dear reminder that there were quite a few people she had not and would not bother to try and extend a hand to. There was only so much time and effort to spare. Yet somehow, it seemed that her Council members including Kir assigned him responsibility for the violence her reforms had caused. They described actions done in her name and under her authority and sometimes even under her explicit mandate as things Kir was entirely responsible for. She had been trying to redirect that line of thought, felt she had been making progress on it, yet today had shown that whatever progress she had thought she made was nowhere near enough.

Kir’s Conclave would keep him out of the way for a few days, and give her the chance to assemble the Council without him. He would only be further hurt by what she suspected she would end up hearing, and having a chance to bleed off some of that poison before bringing Kir in to help work out a resolution to the whole mess could only be beneficial.

If it meant she could sit down with Ulrich and figure out a way to properly frame soul-healing as a burden rather than a sign of favor, all the better. At least that Kir would accept.

“I am not explaining this properly,” Solaris said quietly, “And only distressing you further. I will speak to Ulrich and the others I know as soul-healers and ask them about treating suicide compulsions in general.”

:I can provide some relief for the Captain, and have already said that I will,: Kari said, a literal avatar of their God rubbing his head against Kir’s hand.

Not favored by the Sunlord at all, obviously. Brothers!

“And I have offered to try and figure out teaching mental shielding to non-Talented so he can at least be safer from any similar assaults, Sunlord forbid he encounter one,” Kir said, a faint smile on his face at the Firecat’s gesture and carding his fingers through Kari’s fur, “But I would prefer the man entirely healed.”

“Of course,” Solaris agreed, “But that will give us time to find someone who can help. Perhaps even time to get details on mind-healing from someone in Valdemar? You know a Valdemaran healer, right?”

“Healer Joss, yes,” Kir said, smiling wryly and near visibly seizing onto the change of topic, “I’ll ask him when I see him next, which will undoubtedly be soon. Anur insists I get checked over by him when we’re back in the 62nd.”

“I can’t blame him,” Solaris said, narrowing her eyes as she continued, “Punctured lungs are nothing to take lightly, Kir. As you apparently already knew.”

“It was years ago, Solaris,” Kir said, rolling his eyes at her before dropping his head against her shoulder again, and she took the signs of his growing ease with their conversation with a sigh of relief. They’d have to discuss this soul-healing matter again, but it could wait. She knew enough to start looking for answers.

“Hells, that first puncturing is what pulled Healer Joss in,” Kir was commenting, “Which is the only reason we had a shot at saving Herald Lenora, and he’s offered some excellent treatment options to Senior Lieutenant Janner which have certainly saved lives in the 62nd. So a net positive.”

Solaris decided to prompt another change in topic. If she had to listen to her brother explain how very nearly dying and certainly very nearly crippling himself was most definitely a good thing, she’d be hard pressed to keep from shaking him, and he was hurting too much for that. She was a little too tired to try and do this subtly though.

“New topic!” she announced, “It cannot have injuries involved at all, and cannot be distressing!”

“Hmm. Have I shown you my new Sun-in-Glory?”

“No!” Solaris replied, feeling immediately intrigued. Kir was not one for trappings of rank, and she had honestly expected him to find another one of the standard issue Sun-in-Glories to replace his previous one.

“I can’t show it to you now, Anur has it,” Kir said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well you can’t not tell me about it,” she protested, possibly exaggerating her insistent tone, “I’m intrigued! What is so special about it? Is there anything special about it or are you just trying to distract me with a story about a standard-issue Sun-in-Glory?”

 “I should say it’s the latter, but I’m very proud of Rodri and it has an intriguing story attached to it so I won’t,” Kir said, “Rodri made it with assistance from Forgemaster Axeli, using eight sun-blessed steel arrowheads as the rays. It’s beautiful Solaris, and the conglomeration of the sun-blessed steel into one piece has changed it somehow, or at least – there is something different about that piece, as opposed to the spear and arrowheads we’ve worked with otherwise.”

“I’ve tried meditating with the spearhead you gave me,” Solaris admitted, “I might have heard that tune you mentioned. I felt like I heard something but it didn’t seem to match what you described.”

“We’ll have to try out the Sun-in-Glory then,” Kir decided, “But don’t hum along.”

“I look forward – wait, why?” Solaris asked, brow furrowing and casting a definitely laughing Kari a confused glance, “Does something happen when you hum along?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve tried it,” Kir said, “Though I plan to. But Maltin? Nearly set the library on fire humming along with what he heard. I suspect it’s that heart-singing Talent we’ve mentioned, the one the Valdemarans call Bardic. He definitely has that Talent, at least.”

“Truly?” Solaris asked, fascinated. Sun-blessed steel had never been something she’d considered beyond its occasional reference in stories. She would certainly never have guessed a Rite-forging would be the key. If someone had asked her for a theory, she would have assumed a standard weapons blessing done for a cause the Sunlord smiled upon would be sufficient. When Kir and Anur had first mentioned sun-blessed steel to her she had been terribly annoyed that their meeting’s agenda was packed. Even moons later and with a sun-blessed steel spearhead in her possession, she had not had near enough time discussing the Rite her brother had recreated and the sacred artifacts that resulted from it.

“It was very dramatic,” Kir said tiredly, but with a strong enough undercurrent of amusement she didn’t feel obligated to insist he stop talking and rest, “Issues emerged in the aftermath, of course, but the discovery itself is fascinating.”

“Yes, issues, I can certainly guess some of those,” Solaris winced, because heart-reading or singing were certainly the sorts of Talents the old regime would have been so very determined to burn out, “Well let’s not discuss them, that is far from restful. But! Sun-blessed steel, brother I have so very many questions for you – but before I ask questions, tell me about this forging Rite you say you found.”

:Recreated,: Kari spoke up, Kir groaning at the Cat’s word and protesting, “Kari! Rediscovered is perfectly accurate – “

:Eldest, it truly is not,: Kari interrupted, butting his head against Kir’s ribs, :Unless you forgot the provenance of a key text, which I doubt, you did not have much more than scraps of stories and songs to work with. The most detailed monograph we have on sun-blessed steel spends more than half its text on properly respectful maintenance of already forged relics!:

Glancing over his shoulder at Solaris and ignoring Kir’s muttered protests, Kari repeated, :Recreated.:

Back to this then. She was going to have to get a moment alone with Anur or get Hansa to facilitate a conference with herself and Aelius, because they at the very least needed Kir to believe in his own goodness! For the moment though, she had to leave it, and try to push the conversation onto less fraught ground.

“What was your process?” Solaris prompted, hoping technical details would be safer, “The research in the archives, of course, but how did you pull out relevant bits from the dross? Actually, how did you know it was a forging? My readings on sun-blessed steel left me thinking it was a particular blessing on already forged weapons.”

“That was my first thought as well, and seemed to be the common consensus, when people actually believe sun-blessed steel was more than a pretty way to say well crafted steel wielded by a priest or priestess,” Kir said, picking up the well-past lukewarm mug of tea beside him and taking a displeased sip before continuing, “But that interpretation didn’t stand up to scrutiny, not really. Vanya Flamesinger had to hunt down sun-blessed steel, but timing wise he was not so far from Reulan’s reign, there should have still been some sacred knowledge or righteous individual capable of that sort of blessing. Another point against it was the fact that sun-blessed steel’s loss was always referred to as a skill that had been lost or as no longer being able to craft sun-blessed steel. The language didn’t seem to fit a prayer or spell of some sort being lost, the wording just wasn’t right for that.”

Solaris shook her head ruefully but didn’t say anything. She was no scholar, for all her long trips to the archives looking into their history, and picking out a few verbs as being odd choices would never have led her to the conclusion that making sun-blessed steel was no mere spell or prayer. Kir dragged his fingers through Kari’s coat, collecting sparks as he went, continuing, “Thinking on the effects of magic and how spelled steel holds onto enchantments led to the next problem. Generation lasting enchantments like sun-blessed steel had to be, for any of the stories to be remotely accurate and for that maintenance text on ancient relics to be at all reasonable, have to be anchored. Anchored in some form of etching is of course possible, but that would weaken the blades, which seemed impractical, and besides that there were references to arrowheads and those are too small for the sort of etchings that would be needed for anchored spellcraft that long-lasting, and obviously anything in a hilt wouldn’t make sense for arrowheads either. That left the metal, which meant either a special ore or a special forging – or both, but I had no way to work on the ore angle so I focused on the forging.”

Smiling at both the words she was hearing and the way Kir’s tension was properly easing as he talked, she listened to Kir outline the way he picked through monographs and stories, pulled scraps of hymns and the rhythms of the forgework he had experienced himself, and tried combinations and pieces in various sequences until finally something about the final piece, the last draft, felt right. He had then had the good fortune to have Forgemaster Axeli declare their next and last major project his choice, seeing as his ordination was approaching, and Kir had presented the Rite. The Forgemaster had read through it, declared it fully possible from the forging perspective, and they had crafted a miracle.

“I think I understand,” Solaris said, when Kir tried again to find words besides ‘it felt right’ to describe how he had known that what he held was the Rite he was searching for, “It sounds much like those moments in my meditations when an idle thought suddenly rings as truth.”

She was careful not to say anything explicit about how it was one of the ways she perceived the Sunlord’s Will, about how her meditations were done so she could still her thoughts and remove her desires from what she was mulling over, from what she was feeling, and listen for the subtlest of the Sunlord’s whispers. And they were subtle, most of the time. Either so quiet she had to meditate on His Will to catch a hint of it or so loud it felt like her very soul was on fire.

She had only ever seen one so-called witch burn, and Solaris had been a child, still, only just starting her official training for the priesthood. Her youth was the only reason her hysterics hadn’t condemned her as well, because the moment the first spark had hit the pyre every corner of her being had been screaming at the soul-searing wrong this is wrong this is wretched and evil and wrong that had overwhelmed her. She had been unable to understand how anyone could possibly think this was the Sunlord’s Will, couldn’t they hear Him?

Kir would never even consider that the Sunlord might have murmured to him, when he first started considering that witch-powers were not evil. That those quiet moments spent looking over research and thinking over sacred writings and praying for guidance could be answered with a feeling in his heart that he was thoughtful enough, considerate enough, strong enough, to listen to. To heed. No, Kir had never considered himself someone worthy of hearing the Sunlord. Not until he had come into her service, and received an entirely independent reason for the Sunlord’s actions to convey favor upon him.

Acting through the unworthy because their cause was a good one had been one of the things to get their nation in this mess. It was still sometimes necessary. It was not done with any other choice available. Kir was not in that necessary but unwise category, no matter what he thought.

Even with her careful avoidance of referring to perception of the Sunlord’s will, Kir was shaking his head and denying the comparison, “Similar, perhaps, but I had no concept of its truth or righteousness, it simply seemed the best of my versions, and I wished to try.”

Smacking her brother over the head with the Crown of Vkandis would not do any good at all, but it was sometimes sorely tempting.

Fortunately for them all, Kari perked up, ears pricked as he stared into the distance before giving a distinctively pleased rumble. Blue eyes flashed up at them, and the Cat’s voice was all the sharp-edged joy of a triumphant catch, :It seems that one Darius Vars has been arrested.:

“I have to be honest, there are a lot of scribbled out words, I think they got in an argument in the middle of writing this. Something about the sun-blessed steel crafting? And… maybe healing?”

“Well. At least they caught this Vars bastard?”

“A net positive, definitely.”

“I find it rather worrying they’re willing to write about repunctured lungs and soul-gamble Hunting Rites and not about whatever this is.”

“Tamara! Would it kill you to think positively for once!”

“Look me in the eye and tell me my worries have no basis, Irma!”

Chapter Text

The bells for Sixth Day had long run by the time the Lieutenant-Enforcer opened the door for Justicar Jeryl, the First Order Black Robe mid-question as he stepped into the hall, “– catatonic state has certainly faded from the first stage, but didn’t seem to change at all during our questioning. Do you have any idea how long it might take to fade, Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy? Or is this lesser catatonia permanent?”

The Lieutenant-Enforcer looked thoughtful, but didn’t immediately deny knowing such a thing, which – it was so strange, to see a soldier answering questions about esoteric practices and magical rites and classifications of Talents as if such things were normal to know about, as if that sort of knowledge wasn’t dangerous to have, even now. Certainly, Garth could himself theorize about some limitations of magic, and even knew how to trick some common spellcraft or edge around a compulsion or two, but that wasn’t knowledge he would ever answer questions about. Wasn’t knowledge he would admit to.

He might have to, now. If it came up.

He should.

The two acolytes who had been in the hall with him had long been sent off on errands and then dismissed, which had left him in the somewhat uncomfortable position of sitting across the hall from two fully armed Patrolmen he at least recognized as familiar faces. Couldn’t recall their names, besides Henkel, but he’d been spoken to directly and by name earlier today. Garth wondered if either of them had recognized him – and if they had, in what context.

Rising to his feet, he gave the Justicar a respectful nod, the man acknowledging his presence with a faint smile before focusing on the Enforcer, who had finally decided on an answer.

“Probably not,” the Enforcer said carefully, glancing Garth’s way with a nod of his own before focusing back on the Justicar and elaborating, “A day or two, I would guess, before it fades entirely – or at least fades as much as it ever will.”

“Which is going to make questioning so much more enjoyable,” the Justicar muttered, brushing past as he headed back towards the stairs, orders regarding the Oathbreaker’s securement apparently already given. That likely wasn’t something they were meant to overhear, but Garth did, and by the Enforcer’s wince, he wasn’t the only one. He trailed the Enforcer and Firecat back up the stairs to the ready room, which had been rearranged a bit. A few desks had been shoved together to form one larger table for that young Third Order Justicar set to compiling reports – one of the acolytes that had been running errands for Justicar Jeryl had been pulled into that team.

Holiness Jeryl weaved through the desks to them and requested shortly, “Summary, if you would.”

“About half the Sector Stations have definitely received orders, Your Holiness, with confirmed receipt by the ranking officer on shift. Of the ones with more comprehensive orders, only Outer Eighth’s messenger has yet to return, though Outer Seventh’s Captain made mention that their Captain had been meeting with him until a short time ago and might be delayed reaching his Sector, we’re giving it till Seventh Day before sending a follow up messenger,” the priest rattled off, exchanging glances and short gestures with the acolytes working with him to confirm he’d said everything of import. When one pointed to a particular stack of papers, the priest added, “And of the three here for follow up questioning, the two staff members have given additional details and been allowed to depart. Justicar Miles apparently found enough in his questioning of the priest to justify an arrest and further investigation, in addition to his name being given by the Oathbreaker.”

Garth managed not to flinch when Justicar Jeryl clicked his tongue against his teeth, but it was a near thing. The Oathbreaker used that cue to tell everyone he was mildly displeased – or at least that he wanted them to think and act as if he were mildly displeased, regardless of his other cues. The Enforcer noticed something regardless, glancing his way and not visibly concerned, at least, but definitely paying attention.

Surviving Vars had taken a very careful awareness of just how much attention was on him at any given time – and how much attention it was advisable to gather at any given time. That awareness was completely unable to cope with this occasion, the sheer scale of what he was involved in blew any of his previous estimates on attention grabbing quotas out of the water, but intellectually knowing that fact didn’t do anything to keep his skin from crawling at the number of gazes he could feel pricking at his back.

“Where to next, Your Holiness?” the Enforcer said, interrupting the Justicar’s quiet mulling over of the situation, and Garth couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t at least partially due to the Enforcer noticing Garth’s discomfort. How the man noticed was one question, and why the man even cared was another.

“Ah. My office, I think. More orders to write out – and Mattis should be working on his list, I need to cross-reference that… Anton, send a follow up messenger to Outer Eighth immediately, that’s the sector I’m most worried about – if the orders have been given and they’re simply waiting for the Captain, very well, but if something has gone wrong en route I would hate for us to be caught flat footed,” he ordered the younger priest, the man offering a bow and scanning the room for an appropriate messenger. Garth couldn’t see who he sent, but could hear one of the soldiers getting called to the task, not that he recognized the name – instead Garth was following Bellamy and the Justicar up the stairs again, the Firecat trailing him this time.

Justicar Mattis was evidently done crafting a list and was drafting orders and requesting records, judging by the cluster of acolytes patiently waiting by his office door and getting sent off in bursts. He looked up on spotting them through the doorway, but Justicar Jeryl called over, “Let me make a copy of names and I’ll come by to prioritize,” before he could say anything, Holiness Jeryl not so much as slowing down in his walk to his own office, flicking through unlocking spells and an actual key for his deadbolt before opening the door and heading for his desk, waving them both to seats again.

Garth had never been in Fourth Court for long before today. He’d run brief errands here, had to testify in the few cases that drew higher eyes and Vars or the Oathbreaker hadn’t managed to shove through without any form of additional investigation, but he’d never had cause to venture beyond the small rooms reserved for presenting cases. Now he’d ventured practically everywhere but the witness rooms on the second floor, and he suspected that before this was over he and Maude would become quite familiar with those too.

But the Oathbreaker was caught. Was actually caught and incapable of even trying to dodge questions. It was – it was one of the best possible outcomes. It was an outcome he had never even imagined. He couldn’t quite believe he was actually awake, though that was likely heavily influenced by the fact he hadn’t properly slept since yesterday morning.

The Justicar had only just set his pen aside from copying names when Honored Hansa’s ears pricked and his head tilted to one side, glancing away from them before focusing on the Enforcer and likely saying something, even if Garth couldn’t hear it.

“That’s great news, but why does she know that?” the Enforcer asked the Cat, sounding more than a little concerned and drawing the Justicar’s attention as well.

“Great news?” Justicar Jeryl prompted, the Enforcer twitching in surprise before apparently realizing that they hadn’t heard whatever Honored Hansa had said.

“Ah – Jaina reached out to Kari and then he to Hansa, Darius Vars has been arrested,” the Enforcer relayed, glancing back at the Cat who leapt up to claim one of the taller stools for himself, tail coiling around his paws as he elaborated.

:Vars is arrested at the Outer Eighth, evidently brought in by Captain Marghi and one Senior Lieutenant Bron on the Captain’s authority after hearing of sufficiently severe crimes from a civilian, rather than on your own warrant, Justicar Jeryl. A runner has been sent here for a prisoner transfer squad, and the messenger is remaining there as a witness from outside the Sector Station, as there are apparently more than a few officers who have been compromised by Vars and the Oathbreaker.:

“This is the best news I’ve had all day,” Justicar Jeryl said gleefully, practically tearing into his desk for whatever forms he was filling out next, “I’ll order a prisoner transfer squad immediately, and stop by to compile names with Mattis on my way back. You three are welcome to remain here, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done speaking with Mattis and will want to discuss questioning Vars with you, Master Nolans.”

“Of course, Justicar,” he said quietly, glad for his woolen gloves and the fact the basement cells had been chilled enough he’d pulled them back on. It at least meant white knuckles didn’t give him away, even if the Enforcer’s quick glance at his hands made it likely the soldier had noticed his bone-creaking grip anyway.

Focusing on the Firecat and scrambling to think of something to distract them from him, he registered the name of the other officer who arrested Vars and felt his heart seize in his chest for an entirely different reason.

“Is there any word on Senior Lieutenant Bron’s son, Honored Hansa?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t as desperate as he feared it was, elaborating quickly, “I never knew for certain but – Gari was sick often, and usually right before something went well for Vars.”

:Jaina and your sister apparently encountered the Senior Lieutenant’s family en route to the Sector Station and have confirmed that the boy – Gari, you said? – is no longer cursed,: Hansa replied, :They arrived at the Sector Station after Vars had already been dragged in, the man is unconscious.:

Because of course Maude had decided to go to the Sector Station, likely to try and give her own testimony and pointedly make eye contact and smile at some of the men who had ignored him when he tried to give them information. Who had spat on him for ever daring to think he could try and mitigate Vars. For not doing enough, as if anything they did or said to him could be any worse than the long nights staring at the ceiling hearing the voices of the people he’d failed. Of the ones he’d not even dared to try and save.

The Justicar stamped and signed one more piece of paper before standing and absentmindedly waving a hand over his desk, muttering under his breath and leaving strands of light trailing in the air behind his gesture. They faded slowly as he walked out the door, saying, “I will be back shortly,” and shutting it behind him.

Before Garth could let himself fade back into the blank-eyed daze that had gotten him through waiting out the Oathbreaker’s interrogation, Enforcer Bellamy shoved his chair around to more properly face him and leaned forward, visibly concerned, “Garth Nolans, are you all right?”

“Vars is actually caught,” he said, intending it to be an opener for a mostly serious ‘how could I be anything else’ but the second phrase caught in his throat and he couldn’t speak. The numb repetition of words he should be thrilled about, words he was thrilled about, thrilled beyond imagining to know that they were real, that they were true –

A hand closed around his wrist and he jerked away, but the grip didn’t tighten, the hand let him go.

Ragged breathing filled his ears, and he bowed his head. He had to pull together at least long enough to speak with the Justicar about Vars and how to question him. How to get the man to answer questions when he’d be perfectly happy staring you down with a grin if you didn’t show just enough horror to be entertaining but not so much to be boring and balance it with a fight to try and stop whatever horror he was perpetrating but not fight hard enough he killed you instead because Maude needed you, she asked you to come home every time you walked out the door you had to get home to your sister –

Cream and brick fur appeared in his line of sight, the Firecat slowly crawling up to settle on his legs before butting his head against Garth’s hand. He barely managed to not scramble to his feet and dump the Cat on the ground but was now at least panicking for an entirely different reason because this was a Firecat!

“Back in the moment?” Bellamy asked, voice sympathetic, “Apologies for grabbing you first, didn’t think that through properly.”

“I’m usually not this jumpy,” Garth refuted, shaking his head and hesitating before giving into temptation and carding his fingers through Honored Hansa’s thick coat. Honored Hansa was very warm.

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a while, leaning back in his chair of choice and stretching his legs out in front of him, but any appearance of nonchalance was undercut by the thoughtful expression on his face as he watched Garth and Honored Hansa. It wasn’t uncomfortable, bizarrely enough. This man was a stranger to him, and Garth didn’t feel like diving out of the way because he was being stared at. Because he was so clearly being examined.

This man had staked his life and soul on Garth’s word. If anyone had the right to examine him, it was Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy.

“You remind me of my brother,” the Enforcer said abruptly, Garth glancing over at him and raising an eyebrow, because that hardly seemed relevant.

By the wry smile, his question came across, and the Enforcer elaborated, “He’s also my Firestarter, but brother came first. Knowing that what you are being ordered to do, what you have to do, in order to have any chance of surviving and perhaps saving somebody else further down the line, is evil, is wrong – I am fortunate, in that Kir did not ask me to be his Enforcer until after he knew Solaris was to Ascend. We ran into more than a few ridiculous situations over the years preparing for her Ascent, but we never killed innocents in the course of it. Did not have to turn our gaze away from evil acts in the name of preserving ourselves for future good deeds. So I cannot say I understand what you have endured, working under Vars and the Oathbreaker and trying to mitigate what harm they did, but I can see that you have endured, have suffered, and see something familiar in it. I mean no offense at the comparison.”

“He knew?” Garth asked, bowing his head to hide his flinch at being compared to a Firestarter. At hearing an echo of his own situation in the description of a Firestarter.

They had been nightmares.

Val – properly called Valerik, properly a Firestarter – had been on the entertaining-and-harmless list for decades.

“That the children he burned were innocents, that Talents were nothing worthy of condemnation in and of themselves? Yes. He knew. The other Firestarters – no. Perhaps they doubted, or carefully didn’t let themselves think about things too hard, but more than a few of them genuinely believed they were saving souls and punishing only true evil, doing what they did,” the Enforcer replied, voice still even. Still calm.

There was no reason for the Enforcer to have answered him. There was no reason for any of this.

“Garth Nolans, you were wronged,” Bellamy said intently, “Before the reforms and after, when our attempts at safeguards to give a hand to those who deserved a second chance fell through. Your Captain should never have denied your appeal, and the fact that the Oathbreaker and Vars worked so very hard at ensuring you were never heard is testament to your own threat level to them. You were wronged, and the system failed you utterly. Allow us to fix it, and offer you recompense.”

“You listened,” Garth said, shaking his head and laughing shakily, “You listened, Lieutenant-Enforcer. You never even doubted me. That – that is recompense enough.”

“Hmm. Perhaps,” the soldier allowed, a peculiar expression on his face before it cleared and he clapped his hands together briskly, straightening in his seat, “Right then! I have some concerns to raise with the Justicar regarding usage of the truth compulsion and techniques for dodging that he should be aware of before using it for more complex interrogations, but once I hand over that information and verify that I am no longer needed, I rather think it is time for me to exit this investigation. I am no longer contributing meaningfully, and lingering will only lead to worries of external influence. I will be honest with you, Master Nolans, I do not think you should remain any longer than I. It is almost Seventh Day, and Vars’ questioning is not going to be a quick thing, you will have to leave partway through regardless, and if I were to guess, I would say you haven’t slept in well over a day.”

“If I were to be honest, I would say I am not entirely convinced I am not dreaming, and a lot of that is due to exhaustion,” Garth admitted wryly, exhaling shakily, “I – do not disagree, Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“Which only leaves arranging it, yes,” the Enforcer said mildly, but with narrowed eyes, “I rather think it can be done. Then if you don’t mind, I’ll tuck these signs of office away and accompany you to your sister’s market stall – admittedly, that’s mostly because I remember the route back into the Temple District from the Seventh-Eighth market and would rather retrace my steps than try and figure out a new route from here.”

“Then it’ll just be the blood on your coat making people step aside,” Garth said dryly, startled at his own daring but before he could tack on the proper title, the man laughed, plucking at said coat wryly.

“Yes well. People not dodging out of my path is rather unusual, even now. I’ll hardly notice the difference. Hansa, will you be remaining here past the pair of us?”

:Yes. I will remain until you reach your Hall, as I suspect Solaris will not be leaving until she has a chance to speak with you,: Honored Hansa said, the Enforcer nodding agreeably as if the idea of Her Eminence the Most Holy wanting to speak with him was utterly ordinary and not at all something that should cause a complete panic, especially in a blood stained coat.

This soldier’s existence wasn’t helping dispel the surreal quality of the day at all.

=pagebreak=

Anur let the silence settle, hoping that something of what he had said got through to Nolans, because none of what he had said was wrong – and if the resemblance to Kir’s attitudes and the echo of Kir’s situation were any sign, convincing the man of his own worth as a moral person trapped in a horrific situation would be a very long process. Possibly a never ending one, but Anur lived in hope.

:Thank you, Hansa, for offering him reassurance,: Anur said. He’d never seen Hansa physically affectionate with anyone but Solaris, unlike Kari, who he honestly would have picked up and dropped on Garth’s lap with only a brief heads up to the Cat, but when Garth had visibly lost himself in his own head and Anur’s attempt at a grounding gesture had gone badly wrong, he’d hissed the Firecat’s name and the Cat had already been moving.

:He truly needed that reassurance, and a physical anchor in the present time,: Hansa replied calmly, eyes mostly shut and to all appearances a very large cat enjoying scritches, sacred origin aside, :Also, he is unlikely to try and leverage this gesture as some sort of holy approval of all of his actions past, present and future, which rather allows me to enjoy this without worrying overmuch about consequences.:

Anur had to blink, because that sort of leveraging of a Firecat’s mere presence… honestly hadn’t occurred to him. Not to that extreme at any rate; the general approval, certainly, that seemed to be the whole point of Hansa appearing at Solaris’ side publicly in the first place. But that overarching and far too broad generalization that Hansa had rattled off? Impossible. Besides, temporary allowance of physical contact was entirely different from being partnered in the sense that Hansa was to Solaris and Kari was to the Firestarters.

:It is not particularly likely, but as tied up as my presence is to Solaris’ reign and her own rightness as the Son of the Sun, it is an interpretation I am sure some overzealous individuals will attempt to make. Also, very few people know how to properly stroke a cat. Nolans is adequate.:

:He’s just picky,: Kari inserted, at least sounding more amused than he did exhausted, :And jealous of me.:

:Hmm. No,: Hansa retorted, tail flicking idly, :Fifteen people is too much work.:

:Sixteen, excuse you. Though Aelius is not very good at scratches.:

:I could hold a curry comb in my teeth?: Aelius offered.

Anur was hard pressed not to snicker out loud at the mental image that came along with Aelius’ response, and Kari didn’t bother, laughing through his retort, :Let’s leave that for when we’re trying to remind everyone that we get along quite well, regardless of you being a supposed white demon.:

Any reply to that was interrupted by Jeryl returning, walking in mid-conversation with Justicar Mattis, who was carrying a fresh mug of his Kir-strength tea. Anur could feel his own taste-buds practically shriveling in sympathy, he had no idea how either of them drank that regularly. Years down the line and Kir’s idea of morning wake-up tea still made him gag when he tried to suffer through it for the admittedly excellent wake-up benefits.

The priests were in the midst of discussing the information Justicar Miles had found out about the willing co-conspirator they had somewhat accidentally dragged in with them. Perfect, that topic would make a good segue. Anur waited for a pause before speaking up though, no need to be rude without urgency.

“Justicars,” he said, nodding politely when the two men focused on him, “Before we discuss anything further, I wanted to raise some points about ways to circumvent the truth compulsion or dodge it, as I believe you thought this particular priest attempted?”

“Managed, if I’m understanding what Miles found right,” Jeryl said, sitting down again and waving Mattis to a seat while he snagged yet more paper. The man took the stool Hansa had been on, sending a long look at Garth, still half buried in Firecat, but not saying anything and not staring much past that glance. Good, Garth hardly needed to be put more on edge.

“Understandable. I’m unsure if you what you were writing were notes or transcripts for the Oathbreaker, but at least some of the phrasing you used bothered me, in the sense that there were what we’ve taken to calling loophole phrases, that could very easily have manifested in your earlier questions too, they can be difficult to avoid,” Anur explained, leaving the fact that ‘we’ meant ‘legal officials in Valdemar, particularly Heralds’ and not simply ‘myself and Kir’, “With the Oathbreaker, he apparently is no longer capable of dodging questions, but it sounds like you’d like to use these compulsions on others in this investigation?”

“I would at the very least like to keep that option open, should it be necessary or helpful,” Jeryl said, focusing on Mattis, “You should hear this too, likely.”

“Hmm, agreed, and not just because I find this fascinating,” the other Justicar said, “Take your own notes or should I grab a scribe?”

“Oh, fair point, scribe. I’ll be writing reports into the night as it is, thank you Mattis.”

The Justicar went to the door and called one of the acolytes over, and very deliberately mostly shut the door on the sound of a brief scuffle outside it, looking more than a little amused. Anur could imagine the sort of scuffles Etrius would get into over taking records of something like this, and managed to change his laugh to a cough.

The acolyte that rapped on the door at least hadn’t obviously brawled to get here, and Mattis introduced him, “Acolyte Willas, you’ll be taking a transcription of our conversation regarding truth compulsions. This is Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy, associate of His Incandescence, and Master Garth Nolans, the man who helped crack this whole thing open, and Firecat Honored Hansa.”

Acolyte Willas bowed deeply, definitely working very hard to mask his glee with solemnity, and Anur took the time he was setting up to take notes at a small table evidently intended for scribes to insert, “I don’t know if this is particularly relevant, but his preferred title is Incendiary. It also has the benefit of being much shorter and easier to spell.”

The Justicars both snorted, but Jeryl nodded at the acolyte’s questioning glance, so with any luck there wouldn’t be new formal records listing Kir as Incandescence. It wasn’t much, in the face of the sheer mess that today had become, but it was something.

“Before you start, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Garth said, the serious glance between Justicars a little undercut by the Firecat slowly turning into a fur puddle on his lap – the man was apparently very good with Cats – reminding them, “I have offered testimony under this truth compulsion and assume that some of my further testimony will be subject to the same. Is this a conversation you want me listening to?”

Anur didn’t see why knowing some loophole phrases would make Nolans any more capable of subverting the truth spell, not when Jeryl and Mattis also knew them, but he also wasn’t an investigative specialist. He’d only done the usual circuit work a couple of times before snagging messenger runs and then lurking along the southern border – and border work didn’t lead to much Truth Spell usage. He’d used the Truth Spell for Kir far more often than he’d ever used it as a Herald.

The Justicars were having their own mostly silent conversation, with short gestures and a few words and very speaking facial expressions, before Jeryl gave a final shrug and turned to Garth, saying, “I do not think knowing how the compulsion works will give you any advantage in subverting it, particularly seeing as you’ve already received a partial explanation and run into some of the ways it is not quite what we imagine a truth compulsion to be. You will be questioned by myself or Mattis and full transcripts will be written up, so any loophole phrases of that like can be noted. But to be frank, I don’t plan to use these compulsion-based testimonies alone. Supporting evidence and witnesses and records will be actively looked for and pursued, and evidence against what is said under the truth compulsion will also be considered. Using any sort of spell-craft based testimony as the be all and end all of our justice system is foolish and short sighted in the extreme, as all truth compulsions have caveats and loopholes, it’s in their nature.”

“As you firmly believe all truth compulsions have caveats and loopholes, it’s a philosophical exercise and you can’t use one example as total proof!” Mattis said pointedly, taking a long sip of tea.

“Two examples, thank you!”

“One of those examples is apparently fundamentally flawed in implementation you can’t use that as a successful case – “

“Sorry, I’m going to cut in here, Holinesses,” Anur interrupted, settling back in his chair and letting his amusement show, “As I know very well what the start of a philosophical argument not only sounds like, but can lead to, and I would like to leave this building sometime today.”

“Fair enough, apologies, Lieutenant-Enforcer, Master Nolans,” Jeryl said, smiling faintly before promptly glowering at Mattis and hissing, “You don’t even disagree with me don’t start.”

“I may agree with your arguments but that doesn’t mean our conclusion is true,” Mattis scoffed, turning to Anur and prompting, “It sounds as though some discussion of the truth compulsion has already happened off the record, but would you be willing to reiterate the explanation?”

“I can certainly try,” Anur agreed, before focusing on Jeryl and asking, “Before I do so, though, Justicar Jeryl, you mentioned that you thought there was some dodging of the compulsion, that being why you pulled that priest to Fourth Court. What specifically brought you to that conclusion?”

“To be honest, I only suspected some form of dodging because of the long pauses before answering, and some odd phrasing and stumbling over words. If he had been able to answer more fluidly, I would not have registered things as odd,” Jeryl admitted, grimacing. Likely since they had since discovered the man in question was a willing co-conspirator with the Oathbreaker, and not taking him to Fourth Court right away could have led to some disastrous consequences.

“Fortunate for us then,” Anur said, waiting for Acolyte Willas to glance his way and nod before starting his lecture.

“Under Tell Me True, once you start speaking, it is very difficult to stop, if not impossible, so forcibly switching from lie to truth can have that stumbling effect,” Anur began, hoping he didn’t slip up and say Second Stage Truth Spell at some point, “But as you noted, it could also be an effort to determine a technically true answer that isn’t to your direct question, perhaps resulting in that odd phrasing you noted. Further, while I didn’t hear your questions in that case, Holiness, there are those loophole phrases you should avoid, to prevent those sorts of dodges from being possible – ‘so you say’ is a big one, any reference to the person saying something, because so long as they have said it at some point, it is technically true. It takes some… dancing, to manage that sort of a dodge, because Tell Me True reacts to the individual’s emotional reaction to lying – if they’re emotionally conscious of the fact they are lying, it can register the lie even if, speaking literally, what they are saying is true. That can get – difficult to determine or notice. The opposite holds true as well of course, if the person genuinely believes they are speaking the truth, they could be saying something completely inaccurate and have it register as true.

“That was the focus of the off the record discussion of the truth compulsion,” Anur said, focusing on Justicar Mattis, “With a particular reference to identification – suppose Justicar Jeryl had a habit of donning plainclothes to go out for drinks and had an entire subsidiary civilian identity going by Jer. If you were aware of this and asked under truth compulsion some questions about events surrounding Justicar Jeryl’s actions as Jer, you would be able to speak of him as Jer, civilian, until you reached a point where his identity as Justicar was more critical to the tale you were telling. If he had to pull rank on a Sunsguard in this story you were telling, for example, you would likely have to switch to calling him Jeryl rather than Jer, because that authority being possible was contingent on his identity as Jeryl, Justicar of the First Order, not Jer, random civilian.”

By the amused expressions on both the Justicars faces, they at least were both aware of the Val-Valerik situation. Ah well, the acolyte probably wasn’t and these records would likely be distributed far and wide if the truth compulsion truly ended up being used with any frequency. Just as well to keep the Val and Valerik association under wraps if possible.

:Did I say anything completely wrong?: Anur prompted Hansa, also giving Acolyte Willas a chance to catch up with his probably-shorthand.

:An accurate summary,: Hansa broadcast, flicking his tail and continuing as if he were only responding to what Anur had said out loud, :Absolute truth regardless of perception is impossible to enforce at a non-Divine level.:

“I told you!”

“I never said you were wrong, Jeryl!”

:…Good to know,: Anur decided, not touching that philosophical debate even though he could feel Aelius’ own intrigue at Hansa’s response, and he hurried to add a question, :It’s known in Valdemar that some people do not have the same emotional responses to lies as the majority, rendering our truth spell useless when applied to them. Is that true for yours?:

:I would think so. My understanding is that they are responding to the same emotional stimuli,: Hansa said to him alone, after a few moments of thought, :I cannot say I have encountered that situation, however. Do they register as always liars or as telling the truth despite their lies?:

:Always liars,: Anur replied, quickly switching back to speaking aloud.

“Aside from those points – there are some people who simply do not have the same emotional responses to lies as the majority. I would not say it is common, but they exist. For those individuals, everything they say registers as a lie – “

:Ah wait how does that work with second stage truth spell, are they just mute?: he asked Aelius frantically.

:They choke on their attempt at speaking, regardless of what they are trying to say. So somewhat, but it is also noticeable, not something that can be mistaken for silence.:

“- which in the context of Tell Me True’s compulsion, renders them unable to formulate a response: spluttering, choking on their attempt to say anything, no matter how innocuous. It will be obvious that they aren’t simply refusing to say anything,” Anur continued, sending wordless thanks Aelius’ way. That had been far too close for comfort.

Getting back to the 62nd, where none of his and Kir’s careful dancing around truth was necessary, was going to be such a relief. If anyone not read in on things was visiting when he and Kir finally got back, he might actually start crying. It had only just been a full day since they arrived in Sunhame, the bells for Seventh Day had only just rung.

Half a year. They’d never have to go through a Midwinter with this hanging over their heads again, thank the Sunlord.

“Finally, someone can simply sit in silence the whole time, but once they start speaking they can’t stop until their idea of the truth has been completely said – perhaps not the complete truth or story, but they have to believe they have answered your question before they can cease speaking. You can’t answer a question with ‘fourteen’ and cut yourself off after only saying ‘four’ out loud, for example,” Anur concluded, wanting to wince at that memory.

:Did I miss anything?:

:Nothing I can think of,: Aelius admitted, :Not without giving us away, at any rate.:

:True enough,: Anur conceded.

“Valuable information, all,” Justicar Mattis said, eyeing him thoughtfully, as was most of the room. Not Hansa, he was definitely more puddle than Cat right now. “May I ask how you know so much about this working?”

“We tested it quite a bit,” Anur replied, smiling and knowing the expression was a little too sharp to be friendly but unable and unwilling to avoid it, not with memory of the way those tests had hurt Kir so very fresh. “Trying to determine if someone enjoyed calling Furies down regardless of their targets or if they genuinely believed they were defending the Faithful is difficult to manage without being blatantly obvious, after all. Testing our tools in advance is only sensible.”

“Vars’ interrogation will be double-transcribed, in addition to my own notes,” Jeryl said, exchanging a look with Mattis as he continued, “If you would be available to review transcripts of that questioning, with an eye for those loophole phrases, so I can start building awareness of just what might qualify, I would appreciate it.”

“I would be willing to do that, though would insist I only see a copy,” Anur said, not wanting to risk any appearance of interfering or editing the records of the interrogation.

“Yes of course,” the Justicars chorused, tones equally dismissive. These two had definitely worked with one another for a while.

“Thank you for taking notes, Acolyte Willas,” Jeryl said, passing the acolyte a stack of forms he’d apparently been filling out while he listened, “If you could disperse these to the appropriate records keepers.”

“Of course Your Holiness,” the acolyte said, offering each Justicar a bow and a rapidly re-solidifying Hansa a far deeper one before sparing Anur and Garth a nod a-piece and leaving, door shutting behind him.

“Well we apparently need to have a lecture on how to respectfully acknowledge instated Investigators and their equivalents,” Jeryl said ruefully, Anur giving the man a puzzled look. He didn’t recognize that title at all, and it sounded like they were equivalent to Enforcers. If there were particular customs for acknowledging Enforcers as opposed to anyone else, he didn’t know them – not outside of the Sunsguard’s many-layered forms of saluting, that is.

“Investigators are assistants in our investigations with authority considered equal to that of a Justicar for the duration of the investigation or whatever situation merited their investiture,” Jeryl explained, “Not a permanent position, unlike yours, and not tied to a particular Justicar, also unlike yours. It’s indicated by giving them our Sun in Glory of office, I assume that is why the Incendiary gave you his Sun in Glory.”

“He said something about there being no doubt I speak for him, but it’s entirely possible he was aware of that parallel and didn’t have the chance to tell me,” Anur said, making a mental note to follow up with Kir on that and ask after Investigators in general, because it was an interesting parallel to his own position, as Jeryl pointed out.

“On an unrelated note, how complicated was this scheme?” Mattis asked curiously, “The length of that list of involved individuals was certainly long, but how much are District politics going to play into this?”

“So much,” Anur said dryly.

“As the Enforcer says,” Jeryl grimaced, shaking his head, “This is undoubtedly going to take moons to unravel properly, even without having to fight him for answers. His various ideal and less than ideal iterations of his plans were very nested, and almost impressively resilient to different outcomes of the literal charity temple attack.”

“Always has at least four ways to make a plan work, no matter how it falls out, Your Holinesses,” Nolans said, grimacing and looking more than a little haunted, even with two of his nightmare-bringers confirmed to be caught. Them being caught did nothing to mitigate the nightmares they’d already caused. “Even if the plan doesn’t work at all he – he always gets something out of it.”

“Got,” Anur corrected quietly, “He’s done escaping now.”

“I’ll be honest, sirs. I won’t truly believe that till I watch him die,” Nolans said, Hansa slowly climbing down from the man’s lap and settling in another chair with more poise, for all the world as if he hadn’t spent the entirety of the previous discussion as a puddle of fur.

Anur couldn’t manage a smile at Hansa’s sheer Cat, though, because he remembered Cristan, and remembered the utter terror he had felt on seeing the man’s acolytes again, not even seeing the torturer himself. That had been after only a few days under that man’s power, in a nation he knew was filled with enemies, and something he had been trained to expect upon capture. He had nightmares for years, he still had those nightmares sometimes, and if he had trusted Kir anything less than utterly, his brother’s word that the man was dead would not have been enough. If anyone but Kir or Aelius had told him of Cristan’s death, he wouldn’t have believed them, not really. Not truly. Nolans had suffered under the Oathbreaker for years.

“If execution is the route decided upon, I’ll ensure you have the chance to witness it,” Jeryl said, looking frustrated, “To be frank, determining what exactly the Voice meant by mortal justice remains is going to take time, on top of actually dismantling this one’s schemes. For situations such as this, particularly with his magecraft gone, something along the lines of hard labor for the benefit of those he disdains would be preferred to straight execution. I seldom find execution to be truly just. Sometimes I find it to be practical, as securing individuals with magic or magically inclined allies is, to put it mildly, an expensive and above all risky endeavor, but for this? I would prefer something more poetic.

“But you say, Honored Hansa, that he is incapable of understanding consequences any longer. Is it just, then, to use his shell for labor he can no longer comprehend as being a punishment? Can he even realize that what he is experiencing is a punishment, is a consequence of being caught? He could very well never have realized he was in the wrong, never have felt guilt or remorse for what he did, and only regret that he was caught. But now it sounds as if even that avenue is closed to him. Besides even that, he has no reason to not say whatever he likes – even if he has no interest in lying, I don’t doubt he can cause quite a bit of emotional distress and harm without any trouble at all, just by opening his mouth. Would that be just, then, to have others suffer his presence when he is incapable of feeling any degree of remorse for anything?”

:I don’t mean to quote Lieutenant Corinth, but that sounds like it’s above my paygrade, thank the Sunlord,: Anur commented, barely managing to suppress a wince. The reference to poetic justice called Markov to mind far too easily, and as much as he loved his uncle, he’d had nightmares from his apparently-true stories for years.

:This time, at least,: Aelius pointed out.

Before anyone felt obligated to attempt a response to Jeryl’s near rant, Anur said, “From the perspective of my involvement, Your Holinesses, if the Firestarters could receive a copy of your notes on the Oathbreaker’s interrogation, particularly in reference to why Valerik was targeted, and the various ways the Firestarters were both intentional and incidental targets to the scheme, that would be appreciated. I heard enough to give a summary but official records would be preferred. I would also prefer to remain here until Vars is officially here and under lock and key, but after that, might be best for the appearance of impartiality that I leave afterwards.”

“I can see that,” Jeryl said thoughtfully, Justicar Mattis only nodding in agreement. Nolans certainly had no objections, he’d been the one to point the potential problems with Firestarters running the investigation to begin with. As it was, Firestarters were far too involved in the dismantling and uncovering for rumors of some sort of conspiracy to never start, but they would be able to do their damndest to keep them from gaining any ground.

“There’s going to be some sort of testimony gathering effort for the Firestarters tomorrow, with the chance for questions on the Hunting Rite, isn’t there?” Mattis asked, drumming his fingers against his mug, “We could easily arrange for copies of Jeryl’s notes to be made before then.”

“I’d also add copies of whatever information we extract from Vars or from the Oathbreaker in follow up questions,” Jeryl said, grimacing, “Though I have my doubts as to how much useful information we’ll be able to get out of Vars in a timely fashion, even with the compulsion. Ranting and raving and silence for quite a while, would be my guess. One of the reasons I’m so glad to have your cooperation, Master Nolans, as at least with your explanations of what he has done and situations he’s been involved in, I might be able to prompt some sort of reaction.”

“He’s proud,” Garth said abruptly, gloved hands fisted on his knees and practically flinching when he realized he’d spoken with no title and biting out, “Apologies, Your Holinesses. But Vars is – he’s proud. And he likes watching people flinch, but he likes having to work to make you flinch more. If you flinch too quickly he – moves on. To another target. Same if it takes too long, though.”

Both Justicars were watching Garth with thoughtful expressions, and Anur didn’t like where his own mind was heading, because Garth clearly knew Vars, had apparently been doing his level best to manage and mitigate the man for years. His expertise on Vars and on dealing with the man could be invaluable for extracting information. Forcing him to listen to Vars’ undoubtedly cruel recitations of all the horrible things he had managed to get away with and forced others to be complicit in, including Garth Nolans himself – it would be cruel. It would be needlessly cruel.

“What is the point of questioning Vars, Justicar Jeryl?” Anur finally asked, “Names, I suppose, verification. But what are you investigating, exactly, and can that information be gained outside of an interrogation or at the very least with brief and targeted questions that don’t involve forcing people to allow themselves to be verbally assaulted by an already known to be criminal man.”

“I would volunteer for such a thing, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Garth Nolans insisted.

“I would have volunteered for a lot of things to ensure the one who tortured me died,” Anur replied flatly, “That does not mean that those things would have been necessary. You mentioned that you were working with your sister to gather evidence and witnesses to bring down the Oathbreaker and Vars under the old regime, but in the chaos of last winter’s changeover, the Oathbreaker was able to ensure no one would listen to you. Does that mean the evidence and witnesses you found are no longer viable, or simply that he ensured he had leverage on anyone you would be able to report to?”

“I have – records,” Garth said, sounding more than a little blindsided, “Including official Sector Station copies of arrests made and ways that Vars made penalties worse, or ways that investigations were turned off course. Got them before they were destroyed. Aside from myself and my sister as witnesses, I know quite a few who would be willing to testify against Vars, but I suspect – ah. I suspect they already are, after the golden flames business ensuring any magical leverage vanished. With Vars arrested so publicly too? I’d bet there’s a line out the Sector Station door.”

“That is a fair point,” Jeryl said, glancing between them and smiling faintly, “Though I will rarely say no to additional documentation. Point taken, Lieutenant-Enforcer, though I might have to ask for such an intervention as this investigation goes on, Master Nolans. It will hopefully not prove necessary, but I would rather not guarantee anything.”

Garth’s nod was rather jerky, and he seemed verging on total disbelief, which was understandable, if sad, but Anur left that for what it was, the best any of them could sanely promise. Justicar Mattis stood, glancing between them all before saying, “I’ll be starting on testimony from those who claimed coercion here. The prioritization we discussed should start bringing further arrests soon, and one of us is going to have to brief the other Courts. And by one of us I mean you, Jeryl.”

“I’ll write up a more thorough summary and for the scribes to copy,” Jeryl agreed, “Thank you Mattis.”

“You can thank me by letting me breathe long enough to finish end of year summary reports,” Mattis retorted, turning to Anur and Garth and inclining his head politely, “I suspect we will be seeing each other again. My thanks, for your assistance in this investigation and bringing this to light. Honored Hansa, a true honor.”

With that, he swept out.

“With the time, and the Lieutenant-Enforcer’s points regarding the purpose of interrogating Darius Vars, I think it might be best if you depart at the same time – after Vars is hauled in of course, I would prefer not to tempt fate. We discussed that yourself and your sister would return to offer further testimony but not a particular time. I understand your sister has her market stall to run, but would you be able to bring some of those records you saved tomorrow? Say, Third Day or thereabouts?”

“I won’t be able to carry all of them, sir, these are – these are years worth of documents you’re talking about,” Garth said, “I will honestly need more than a day simply to retrieve all of them from where they are hidden. Is there a particular incident or time period you’re most interested in?”

By the way Justicar Jeryl’s eyes were gleaming, he was very excited at the thought of having thorough documentation to peruse. At least the man found joy in his work.

:Aelius, do you remember if Kir packed those notes he has from when he was first reconstructing the Hunting Rite? I have a feeling there are some Justicars here who would quite literally bargain with blood for them.:

=pagebreak=

Talking to her brother about just how the Captain of the Outer Eighth knew him – and just what Kir had shared with the man – was getting more important with every moment. At least this officer seemed a decent one, listening intently to the summary of what he had missed while arresting Vars and ordering a few reshufflings that seemed more than reasonable to Jaina, though she didn’t know the specific men and taskings he was having rearranged.

To be fair, a lot of her assessment was being based on his treatment of Vars and Vars’ victims, particularly Bretta’s husband. It would be very, very easy to condemn the man for what Vars made him do, for what he may have even done to try and appease Vars without being directly asked, because direct coercion was the least of what could have happened. What almost certainly had happened. But there seemed to be no sign of that; indeed, by body language and the way the Captain had phrased his orders regarding the Senior Lieutenant, she suspected the Captain was ready and willing to fight to give Bretta’s husband a chance.

The only reason Jaina herself was still breathing was because the new regime had given her a chance. She could hardly begrudge anyone else receiving the same.

Maude was only starting on her testimony, and Jaina didn’t have much to offer and doubted she’d be welcome to hover much longer. Fortunately, the Captain was giving her a perfect reason to stay, just by sitting at a desk and starting to write out a report.

“Captain, your face is not only bleeding, one of those gouges is either deep enough I’m seeing your cheekbone or there’s debris caught in it,” Jaina said, stepping forward so she didn’t have to pitch her voice to truly carry but not bothering trying to speak lowly either. Better to have others hearing what she said. Fewer questions or suspicions that way.

“I realize your usual medics are likely occupied,” she said dryly, glancing at the bustling station and the queue of people waiting to give testimony, the Senior Lieutenant newly tucked away with Bretta and Gari in a corner as far from Vars as they could get, and the other Senior Lieutenants who had started appearing and immediately being sucked into the thick of things. Some sort of ranking meeting was scheduled, if Jaina had to guess. Might need to be rescheduled.

The Captain huffed a laugh, glancing her way with a wry gleam in his eyes as he said, “You offering, Mistress Jana?”

“I am an herbalist,” she sniffed, guessing by the amused twist to his expression that Kir had at the very least told the Captain of her and Valerik’s proper names and ranks. She would have to somehow request the Captain not let Val know that he knew or at least not how he had found out – depending on how this shook out, she might be able to leave Valerik with the impression Kir and Anur still didn’t know about the bail out fund, and one day she would get to watch him panic over it.

“A herbalist who bails her brother out in assorted sorry conditions on the regular, no less,” she continued, “Carrying basic wound treatment equipment only makes sense.”

“I’m not moving until Fourth Court gets here to take Vars into custody,” he warned.

“I’d hardly ask you to, Captain,” Jaina said tartly, setting her bag on the desk next to his papers and promptly pulling out a jar of her favored wound-poultice, a carefully wrapped packet of needles, tweezers and thread, and a stack of clean kerchiefs, “All I would need is boiled water, possibly a candle for the tweezers if that really is debris, and I can be pointed somewhere to manage that myself.”

A lit timekeeping candle was promptly set on the far corner of the desk, a harried-looking Sergeant Oskar ordering a patrolman to get a fresh kettle and empty mug, hold the tea. The Captain raised an eyebrow at the man, a very familiar face after these years bailing out Valerik, and the Sergeant simply scowled. Watching the non-verbal conversation that ensued was rather entertaining, but with relatively few flicking gazes and twitched fingers – nothing uncanny, to her trained eyes, simply two men with enough experiences in common to develop a shorthand – whatever debate they were having was resolved and Oskar turned to reassign a few men who looked a little too idle for his taste. One of them being an officer did nothing to phase him.

“It seems, Mistress Jana, I will be taking you up on your offer,” the Captain said, gaze flicking her way before he nodded politely and said, “I doubt we have ever been properly introduced, my name is Caleb Marghi.”

“Pleasure, Captain Marghi,” she said, nodding respectfully and very deliberately not returning the introduction. For one, she had never bothered establishing a last name as Jana, though it was an easy enough lie to make. For another, this man almost certainly knew that the name he was calling her was false, so returning his genuine introduction with one he would know as a falsehood hardly seemed equivalent.

He didn’t seem phased by the seeming lack of reciprocity, instead letting her tilt his head so she had a better view of what she was working with, speaking lowly and hardly moving his lips as he did, “Mistress Jaina. Vars made some comments about you.”

“Oh he did, did he?” she asked, catching the shift in pronunciation and grateful for the man’s discretion, “Anything interesting?”

“Hmm. Oathbreaker apparently warned him off you, told Vars he wanted you for himself,” the Captain said, not taking quite as much care with his voice as when he was speaking her name properly, but still keeping his face still. It was much appreciated.

Jaina knew the Oathbreaker’s former name and rank thanks to being at Fourth Court with Maude, but his face had been entirely unfamiliar to her. He had skill enough with spell-webs and networking, but had he truly tried to pursue her, Jaina, First Order Firestarter? Even before she’d had Kari to call on with her mind alone, she doubted it would have ended well for him. No, more likely that Vars had tastes that included her as Jana, and the Oathbreaker decided to cut that off at the pass rather than risk the Firestarters investigating his affairs.

“How did that come up?” she asked, deliberately keeping her tone light while she smiled at the patrolman stopping by with a steaming kettle and an empty bowl. Must have already had a kettle on to warm that they could co-opt.

“Oh, I was letting him run his mouth, trying to keep him distracted enough for Senior Lieutenant Bron to get behind him,” Marghi said, definitely abridging some of the story, “Gave some prompt about involving Val in whatever plot this was being a mistake, what with your younger brother. Just said Val’s family though, he took that as referring to you. Said he’d always wanted to pay you a visit but his sponsor, presumably the Oathbreaker, wanted you for himself.”

“Shame he didn’t disobey,” Jaina said, knowing her voice was too hard, too cold, for the stereotypical civilian merchant wife herbalist she was playing, “I’d have enjoyed watching him die.”

Bah. She had introduced herself to the Outer Eighth by kicking in doors and haranguing people far from pure as to her brother’s whereabouts. This wasn’t out of character.

The Captain’s glance was distinctly exasperated, but she raised an eyebrow right back, pouring steaming water over a disinfecting herbal packet and said, “Oh please, it clearly would have been self-defense.”

He huffed a laugh, but didn’t say anything further, and he returned to writing his summary – too irregularly formatted for it to be a proper report, this was him getting his thoughts down before he forgot details – while she waited for herbs to steep and wiped her hands down with the first of likely many kerchiefs. The steam smelled right, so she soaked a second kerchief and wrung it out, tapping the Captain’s shoulder before she tilted his head again, carefully cleaning off the majority of the blood so she could get a better look at the injury. Fortunately beards weren’t truly popular in the Sunsguard, not below rather elevated ranks, likely for just this reason – she imagined cleaning injuries around them was a pain. Keeping her own hair safely out of the way of stray fire and washing out the ever-clinging scent of burning flesh was obnoxious enough, and it wasn’t directly under her nose.

Verius had delivered a very memorable lecture on the dangers of facial hair. After her ordination, she had looked into the records he’d cited – as they had all suspected, Alfrek the Faceless had never actually existed, or if he had, his name and life story had been altered beyond all recognition, but that did not make the story any less legitimate a life lesson, even if they had all had nightmares about charred and melted faces in the mirror.

Bron had teased her for having them, seeing as she didn’t exactly have to worry about growing a beard. Darius had made a crude remark about that hardly being the only hair they had to worry about catching afire, and Kir had loudly asked with overly-wide eyes what Darius was talking about, which had set Darius to stammering and drawn Verius’ attention and ire –

Jaina paused in picking up her tweezers – because that was definitely fingernail, not cheekbone – and thought that story over again. Eyes flicking between the Senior Lieutenant who Bretta and Gari were half curled-up with, the unconscious man who had caused so very much suffering, and the summary report the Captain was writing, she had to snort.

“Mistress Jana?” the Captain prompted, glancing up and grimacing when he spotted her holding her tweezers in the candle flame, “Debris, then? I suppose I should be grateful it’s not bone.”

“Would require stitches if it was bone, yes,” Jaina agreed, flicking her fingers dismissively as she waited for the freshly seared metal to cool sufficiently, “Might still, have to see how the poultice holds. Not why I laughed. I finally realized why his name’s been bothering me.”

“Who’s name, Vars?” the Captain asked, trying to frown and wincing when his freshly cleaned facial wounds protested, “Have you heard it somewhere before? I could take your testimony now, if you like.”

“Not necessary, Captain,” Jaina assured him, tipping his head again and carefully extracting the chunk of fingernail. Definitely large enough for her to cut into three pieces, should she need to. Perfect. Vars could try escaping as much as he liked, she’d hunt him down regardless, “No, I haven’t heard his name before, not that I recall at least. I was just laughing at the parallels.”

She had to pause a moment, both to place the fingernail piece safely in a kerchief and to let herself run through the story she would need to tell to present this. Pieces of it she’d developed before, though never had reason to speak of it. Not many people spoke to her as Jana, not really, certainly not enough to ask questions about her not-real life. Inventing the stories had been a bit of fun, though, and harmless enough. Bron had laughed about it, and after the utter disaster that had been their last year as acolytes, he had laughed so rarely. After he had died, dying the cord she tied her braids back with properly black instead of whatever dark colors she had on hand at the time had been oddly soothing.

“My husband’s name was Bron,” she said, voice wry as she looked for any more debris in the wounds, “And, like the Senior Lieutenant, he also had a less-than-pleasing cousin named Darius. Nowhere near as bad as this one, but definitely not one I wanted to invite to stay for dinner outside of familial obligation.”

“That is a rather amusing parallel,” the Captain agreed, hesitating before saying lowly, “My sympathies for your loss, Mistress Jana.”

“It was years ago,” she said quietly, wondering if he even realized that this dead husband of hers had once actually existed, if not been her husband, “But my thanks, all the same. With a little help, these won’t need stitches, if you don’t mind?”

She had the candle flame flicker, to try and give him a better idea of what she meant by help. Normally she would simply use her magic to help the healing along without asking permission, she had learned wordless healing cantrips for just that reason, but he had recognized Kir and Anur, and they’d have no reason to know a then-Senior Lieutenant in the city guard, so he must have been transferred in from a banditry unit, which was exceptionally rare. He couldn’t have been stationed in Kir’s unit, or there would have been no hesitation about how they knew one another, and all of that put together meant they had met this man on one of their investigations into potentially corrupt members of the priesthood for Solaris or tracking down blood-magic taint on their own.

It could have been something simple, something where the Captain escaped without any true trauma. But she would rather not alarm him, and it was very difficult to do healing magic subtly enough that not even the recipient noticed something happening. Best to ask.

“Whatever you think best,” the man replied politely. Jaina had her hand on his face, though, so she felt the brief tremor that preceded the words. Not as easy to say as it seemed, and her darker theories gained more weight.

With permission granted, Jaina started humming quietly, wringing out the third kerchief and gently cleaning out the wounds one more time. Not truly necessary for all of them, only the one she’d extracted that fingernail piece from, but it covered any visible signs of overly-fast healing – or at least, meant people couldn’t see the healing happening. Nothing dramatic, she could hardy walk out with him entirely uninjured, but closing the deeper bits, leaving them as broken skin, rather than gouged flesh.

She might ask Kari to follow up with the Captain, offer to finish the job when there weren’t witnesses. Enough priest-mages and miracles had been involved in this mess that he could conceivably tell a story of waking up healed and it wouldn’t draw too much attention. That could wait till she’d spoken with Kir as to just how much he’d told this man and just how they knew one another, though.

A fresh commotion by the door drew attention, and Captain Marghi glanced past her and gave a grimly pleased smile, raising his voice and saying, “Fourth Court?”

“Ah, yes Captain,” the ranking officer of the huddle, another Senior Lieutenant, stepped forward, saluting and not waiting for the Captain to return it before continuing. Just as well, Jaina was rather in the way of him returning the salute properly. “Senior Lieutenant Harlan, sir. Ran into your messenger en route, we’re here to take one Darius Vars into custody. Formal orders, sir.”

A seal-bedecked scroll was presented, and Jaina stepped aside politely to let the Captain accept it and read it without being in the way. Technically speaking, she should have done so earlier, but she’d needed to reach a stopping point for her cantrip. As it was, all she had left was applying the honey-based poultice and the Captain would be as treated as she could publicly manage.

The Captain read through everything, asked some seemingly random questions of the man which were evidently identity verification of some sort, then asked one of the Senior Lieutenant’s men and the Patrolman standing by Vars to introduce one another as one more verification method. Jaina was rather impressed. He clearly cared, and clearly had imagination, if he was so very deliberate about trying to prevent a whole host of possible enemy-actions.

“He took a blow to the head, no sign of regaining consciousness since,” Marghi said bluntly, “Bound wrists, disarmed. This bag contains the weapons on him at the time. I have not yet written up an arrest report, but will have a certified copy sent along before sunset today. Is Justicar Jeryl still the man to direct it to?”

“Yes sir,” Harlan agreed, securing the bag of weapons to his own belt while two of his men hauled Vars up, the third adding proper metal cuffs to his wrists and ankles. Jaina knew she wasn’t imagining the way tension throughout the station eased at that, and she recognized the subdue-suppress-quiet spells etched into the metal. She was glad those had been broken out – clearly the Justicar was taking no chances at all with this case. She approved.

The Captain and Senior Lieutenant Harlan exchanged salutes and the whole group trooped back out. Jaina couldn’t tell who whooped with glee first, but the building was soon ringing with cheers and relieved laughter. The Captain let it ride for a few moments, a faintly pleased expression on his face, before he cut it off with a sharp whistle.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said into the silence that slowly fell, even faint whispers quieting to nothing as he spoke, “But to properly see justice done to Vars, the Nameless Oathbreaker, and those truly loyal to them, we need to gather complete and accurate testimony from as many people as possible. So if you could all please carry on.”

Oh Jaina liked this one.

People did as he requested, but tone was definitely lighter, there was definitely far less tension in the room. Maude was wiping tears from her eyes, and it was definitely time for the two of them to duck out. Just as well she was almost finished with her own task.

“Captain,” she said, stepping forward again and starting to fold her kerchiefs and supplies away for transport, though she didn’t touch the jar of poultice, “I do not think you need stitches, though I will be applying this poultice and leaving it with you for reapplication. I suppose I don’t need to give you the keep it clean and moist lecture?”

“I do have some small experience with wound treatment,” he said, before near visibly realizing who he was talking to and inclining his head in an awkward attempt to be subtly deferential, “My thanks, Mistress Jana.”

Carefully applying a thin layer of the poultice to each of his injuries, now far more mild than they had been, fortunately, Jaina didn’t comment. The only reason he had startled was because he recalled the fact she was a priestess, and she could hardly take offense at someone treating her as she intended them to. That was the whole point of being Jana, after all.

Capping the poultice and wiping off her hands, she folded things into her carryall and hooked it over her shoulder, pressing the jar of poultice into his hands with a stern, “Don’t let that get infected. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

“Yes of course, thank you again, Mistress Jana,” he said politely, Jaina nodding shortly before turning to Maude, who was rising to her feet and hooked an arm through hers before they headed for the door once again. Jaina heard one of the officers ask, “Shift Lead meeting cancelled then, sir?”

“Do you want to take over as Shift Lead tomorrow morning with a less than clear understanding of what all has happened today?” Captain Marghi asked.

“…I rescind my question, sir. Shift Leads! Meeting, find replacements for your current tasks!”

Muffling a snort, Jaina shook her head at Maude’s curious glance as they made their way into the street. Maude hummed noncommittally, before saying mildly, “It will be interesting to see if we beat Nico to the market. He helped bring Vars in, you see, so I told him I’d give him one of my extra spice cakes as thanks.”

“Maude,” Jaina said flatly.

“Jana,” Maude retorted, raising an eyebrow, “We were friendly acquaintances at most when you quite literally saved my life, and now that we know one another better I would like to consider you a friend. Can friends not thank each other?”

Jaina choked on her response, both because the only protest she had was being a Firestarter and because the idea of a civilian woman calling her a friend was startling. Was hopeful, in a way she hadn’t realized till she’d heard Maude say it.

“Friends can thank each other,” Jaina finally managed, “You already have thanked me.”

“Verbally!” Maude protested, a broad smile on her face despite it, “I want to make a gesture!”

“I don’t need a gesture, Maude – ”

“Fine, then I’ll ask around about Captain Marghi,” Maude interrupted, smirking in a way Jaina was deeply suspicious of.

“Why would that be a thankful gesture?” Jaina asked. Better to know than be ambushed.

“Well it’d be a shame to try and set you up if he’s already courting someone,” Maude sniffed.

Jaina choked, “Maude!”

“What? You’re evidently long widowed. Besides, it’s that or spice-cake!” Maude threatened. Perhaps this friend thing wasn’t a good idea.

“That doesn’t even make sense and you know it!”

“He has notes!? Auntie Ki can I please come to Sunhame with you?”

“Your mother will murder us all, and I won’t be able to blame her. No.”

“Ivan, we need to get ma to agree to take us to Sunhame.”

“…what’s this ‘we’? I’m fine with relayed stories.”

Chapter Text

Liljan at least waited until they had laid the corpses to rest to speak, burning them behind the wards necessary to ensure raised walkers didn’t leave traces of themselves behind.

Necromancy was far too close to blood magic, some days. Colbern had been furious but unsurprised when two of their number ended up Nameless and dead. At least Liljan didn’t have the temperament to work with the living – it made working with her a pain in the ass, but it also meant he wouldn’t be losing the only other necromancer willing to actually use her talents anytime soon. Not to her own crimes and hubris, at least.

“Would have been helpful to have a third set,” Liljan said flatly.

He could see her staring at him in the corner of his vision, but kept his own gaze on the thoroughly charred corpses, flames white-yellow as they reduced the once-woken bodies to truly quiet ash. The necromancer’s crematorium – simply a ventilated and warded corner of the crypts – was next to her preferred workroom. She had undoubtedly already assembled some projects for the High Holy Week season. He wasn’t going to ask right now. The bird-snake thing she’d figured out how to make had been uniquely horrifying, and he’d rather get through the Conclave before listening to one of Liljan’s disturbingly intriguing year-end summary reports.

“No, Liljan,” he said.

“‘No Liljan’,” she echoed mockingly, “What the hell does that boy think he’s going to do when we die? You’re all excited to go kill some blood mages well good for you, I’m looking at a future where I’m the only necromancer in Sunhame willing to do my duty! You’d best hope I die before you do or first rite I need to conduct I’m dragging that boy down here by his ankles until he does his job – “

“Enough!” Colbern shouted, feeling too-frequently-worked bones interred in earth straining to aid him and swearing under his breath, exhaling shakily and humming to himself as he settled them back to sleep, axe sweeping through blocks.

“You’d best have not disturbed my arrays,” Liljan groused, looking positively sulky as she crossed her arms, “I put a lot of work into them.”

“You always do,” Colbern gritted out, settling his axe across his back and saying, “Leave him be, Liljan. Dragging him into anything unwilling will end badly for everyone involved, aside from basic courtesy.”

“Courtesy is for breathers,” Liljan scoffed.

“Of which we are,” Colbern retorted, shaking his head, “Leave it. The extended clan is aware of our shortage. It’ll be dealt with.”

“And then we get to figure out teaching a necromancer when our mentorship options are a man whose only student refuses to have anything to do with our actual duties and me,” Liljan spat on the floor, “And we all know how badly that will end.”

“Are you done?” Colbern asked flatly.

If Colbern had needed to choose a non-Firestarting necromancer to survive Solaris’ Ascent, it would have been Liljan. That sounded impressive, until one remembered that the other two options were both Nameless and dead. If the District’s necromancy wardings worked with any less than four active participants, he would have been sorely tempted to kill one or the other of that Nameless pair years ago, they’d been that bad. But for years the other options for their wardings were exorcists who he was loathe to risk, because they were far too rare, and Tristan.

He had done so very badly by that boy. Young man. Person.

Taking her silent scowl as agreement – or at least lack of further argument – Colbern heaved a sigh and took her point. He’d been worrying over it for a while, after all, trying to find a way to have the next necromancer sent to join the priesthood trained by an outsider, or having a mentor willing to relocate to Sunhame for a time, or something already established. Established in a way that wasn’t him.

He couldn’t.

“I’m aware of the problem. I’m trying to figure it out,” he said finally, and mentally cursed those once called Toren and Silas to the coldest of hells while he was at it, because damn them. He was not meant for a leadership position, yet here he was, the best of two admittedly terrible options. And most senior, but once-called Toren had been their leader for years and he’d been a solid decade and change younger than Colbern.

“Well make sure you actually do,” Liljan said, “I’ll watch the fires, get going. Seventh bell rang a while ago and you’ve got your fancy annual meeting.”

Colbern watched her for a while, before nodding and murmuring, “Thank you, Liljan.”

She waved him off, and he headed for the door. A passage of smoothed down stone, carved with wards and stories, one corner, a somewhat-hidden door, and stairs to the surface. The door hadn’t always been so difficult to get to, supposedly. But there was a panel of carvings down there that Sunhame would prefer never existed, and the necromancers refused to part with. To be fair, Colbern suspected the majority of the necromancers who had pitched that battle had done so out of stubbornness or fear of precedent, not actual desire to keep the panel commemorating one of their worst errors, and the one who had finally brought the bastard down. But the result was the same.

One of the only pieces of Valdemaran script to be found on record in Karse, much less the District. Colbern had no idea which ancient had managed to get their hands on a copy of how Vanyel Demon-Rider’s name and titles were written out in Valdemaran, but it had been carved into place, Karsite transliteration underneath, and the necromancers, at least, remembered the Demon-Rider as one who had done their job for them.

The Boneyard lay to the east of the fatlands, and was at least another two hundred years out from a full cleansing, after centuries of work. Not entirely thankless, its gradual purification over the course of centuries was one of the reasons the fatlands had developed into such fertile territory, but the work was constant.

The necessity of that work was the only reason that ancient necromancer wasn’t Nameless. Hard to force through a contract imposing a generations long debt on a family if the person who’d incurred it was no longer Named as a member. Colbern had wondered, sometimes, if the Oradnel clan would have been better off with that wretch truly Nameless rather than unnamed merely by custom. He doubted it – they produced too many necromancers and healers for Sunhame of old to have allowed them to continue unmanaged, the contract had at least bound them and Sunhame together, given them a shelter as a necessary part of the nation’s prosperity.

He laughed, sometimes, when people called the royal court of Karse a fancy social club. It was, to be frank, but the fact that the Oradnels were some of the biggest names in those circles and so very necessary was a touch of irony. Just enough to be funny.

Liljan had never understood it. She still didn’t, to be honest. Oh, she’d walked the Boneyard, all necromancers did, but she hadn’t been raised on the stories and the warnings. She was what they called a spontaneous necromancer – there was no traceable connection between her family line and the Oradnels, and she was from out by Menmellith besides. Far flung and distant ancestry was entirely possible, but he considered it far more likely the talent came from somewhere else.

Gift. Knack. Whatever word he should use that wasn’t talent.

Regardless, it meant she hadn’t been raised on the same understandings as he had, as a born and raised Oradnel. Neither had Tristan, not that he’d found that out until it was far too late. He hardly even remembered those childhood lessons in any coherent fashion, but knew they were foundational. It had taken far too long of talking past one another for him to realize that Tristan being listed as the Oradnel necromancer-tithe of his generation meant nothing because he had only been found by a traumatic so-called accident, nearly too old to be claimed for the priesthood at all, and therefore sent on immediately without even an explanation of the bargain he was holding up by his mere existence.

Fortunately, Raltor had been more than willing to join him in raising hell about that. When Yelena had finished sulking over the way her attempt at taking advantage had backfired, she’d been even more helpful. She was a precious healer, after all.

Once again, as it seemed he did every day he was alive, he cursed that overly prideful fool of an ancestor that had saddled them all with this debt. Saddled their whole line, their whole nation, with that bias. If he could send wine to a dead Demon-Rider, he’d send it to Demon-Rider Vanyel, because that was one death at his hands which was most certainly deserved.

Getting that wine-price of Brynhild’s sent off to the Demon-Rider’s colleague-descendent would have to suffice.

=pagebreak=

Anur should probably be listening to the discussion going on between Justicar Jeryl and Garth Nolans – after Garth had confirmed he had records for some particular cases of concern to Jeryl, the Justicar had realized he’d never formally written out Garth’s version of today’s events. Having to answer more targeted questions had brought Nolans some ease, or at least he seemed a little less likely to jump out of his skin.

Rather ironic, because Anur had started to feel more than a little jittery. Kir’s presence against his mind was quieter, and a quick check from Aelius about their earlier conversations had let them conclude that Kir didn’t necessarily overhear them when they discussed things, even unshielded, but they would need to test things further. Aelius’ best theory was that if either he or Kir were interested in what the other was saying or hearing, they would hear it too, unless there was deliberate shielding in place.

Nothing to be done for it now, and Kir was quiet, but he knew better than to think his brother was resting, what with those flares and flickers of his presence, and Anur wanted to get back to his brother. He wanted to have his brother in his sights and be able to verify everything he’d been told about Kir’s condition with his own eyes.

But he couldn’t leave yet. Darius Vars had yet to be hauled into Fourth Court. So here he was, trying to avoid pacing restlessly and raising tension levels when they’d only just started subsiding, staring out the window of the Justicar’s office and over what he feared was the courtyard in front of the main entrance to Fourth Court.

:Oh I really hope that’s not in front of the main entrance,: Aelius said, sounding disturbed.

Anur couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the drama of the courtyard. From the third floor it was very obvious that someone had spent a lot of time laying the cobblestones and gutters to form a sun motif around the raised central platform. Said platform looked to be one solid slab of stone, with a deep hole in the center of it, and was practically black with old char.

:I have some bad news for you,: Anur replied, watching the flow of people through that courtyard and remembering the way they’d moved through this building in comparison to where Justicar Marya had been stationed and the large doors that her desk had faced, :Because that is definitely in front of the main entrance.:

Anyone coming to the Courts had to first walk past the place they might die screaming. Definitely encouraged people to use the Courts instead of trying to settle things themselves, not off-putting at all.

He was being a little hypocritical; the City Courts in Haven didn’t have gallows in front of them, but that was because there was only one court in Haven authorized to issue death penalties, and that Court did have a permanent gallows outside. Not out front, it was off to the side, but there was a courtyard around it where people could assemble. That was the same as here, it was just that instead of one Court authorized to issue the death penalty in all of Sunhame, there were four.

Maybe five, depending on how executions that took place in the District counted...

:Burning is still the default mechanism for executions,: Anur said, feeling more than a little nauseous. :The Oathbreaker and Vars – if they decide to execute them, I won’t disagree. But burning…:

He had seen people burn before, but only in combat – and Kir’s version of combat Firestarting was fast and seldom had visible flames, nowadays. But watching a living person get tied to a pyre and listening to them scream? Never. Not once.

:I don’t think I can watch that,: Anur said finally.

:I don’t think any of us can,: Aelius replied, :I certainly don’t think you or Kir should. I can guarantee you will both have nightmares, anyone with a brain between their ears could guess that, and I rather think we have enough nightmares between the lot of us already.:

:Do you think we can convince Solaris to change it to hanging or axes? At least for non blood-mage related crime?: Anur asked, :Not before these two’s sentencing, in all likelihood, but someday? If it’s on the books as the default, it’ll be hard for Kir and I to just – never be there.:

:It can’t hurt to ask,: Aelius said gently, :It can’t possibly hurt to ask, Chosen. Shall I add it to the list?:

Anur huffed a laugh, shaking his head, :Please do.:

A flurry of movement in the courtyard caugh this eye, and he watched with interest as a quartet of Sunsguard trooped in, a man bound and possibly gagged between the middle two. Didn’t seem to be struggling very effectively, but by the way he was stumbling over his own feet, that was likely due to being dazed more than any lack of desire too. Definitely not one who came quietly, and given the descriptions of Vars…

“Master Nolans,” Anur called over his shoulder, “I rather think that’s Vars being hauled in.”

Garth Nolans practically bolted over to join him, and Anur eyed him worriedly when the man’s breathing went ragged, choking out, “Yes. That’s him.”

Anur glanced past him to Justicar Jeryl; very uncharacteristically, Garth Nolans didn’t so much as twitch, gaze locked on the man being dragged across that very deliberately arranged courtyard. The Justicar looked concerned himself, which was at least something. The man definitely wanted Vars arrested and was concerned with the definition of justice and how best to achieve it, having signs of compassion for victims of Vars and the Oathbreaker as well? This case was in good hands.

“I will head down to meet them, and start on what is undoubtedly going to be an interesting interrogation. I would recommend giving us… say a quarter mark, to get him into one of the interrogation rooms. My desk is secured, so I will not bother with my door, simply shut it behind you when you leave. Honored Hansa, would you accompany me?”

The Firecat nodded, and Garth Nolans still didn’t so much as twitch. Oh Anur was very glad he had gotten everyone to agree that Garth Nolans should leave with him and not be confronted with Darius Vars today.

Anur nodded agreement to the Justicar, who returned the gesture shortly and gathered up some papers, tracing the same glowing lines over his desk as before and sweeping out the door, courteously allowing Honored Hansa to precede him. Anur waited for the door to fully shut before he focused on the man standing next to him, saying, “Garth Nolans, are you aware of where and when you are?”

“I am,” the man said, sounding numb. Sounding exhausted. Anur sympathized so very much.

“You still up for meeting your sister at her market stall? I’ll gladly walk with you elsewhere if you can just give me directions from wherever we end up to that market stall, and I’ll pass on your destination to her,” Anur offered, not sure where on the power-through spectrum Garth Nolans would be falling right now. It had been a very long day already, and Anur had actually gotten sleep last night. Nolans was undoubtedly dead on his feet, especially with the thing that had driven him onwards finally achieved.

“No I – I can meet her,” Nolans managed, sounding a little less dead tired, and even managing a short laugh, “She wouldn’t believe you if you said I was fine, and the year’s been hard enough without her closing up early. This is her best season.”

Kir and he had already given the majority of their annual stipends to the 62nd's quartermaster, as was their usual habit come winter. They’d kept more for themselves than in previous years, thanks to their frequent travels to Sunhame and the increased opportunities to pick up more interesting things, and who knew how much of that Etrius had ended up spending getting the children out.

At some point in this Conclave, they were supposed to comb through the annual budget reports and set the next year’s projected budget. Maybe something could be figured out. Getting the Nolans siblings to accept whatever they might figure out would likely be another battle entirely, but the offer at least needed to be made, if it was feasible.

“Well you can at least sit down for a bit,” Anur said, hesitating before giving Nolans a careful nudge. The man didn’t flinch away this time, but he definitely dropped back into a chair with a distinctively tired sort of bonelessness and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. Considering how careful the man had been about showing any form of weakness today, Anur wasn’t quite able to decide if he should be relieved the man felt this comfortable around him or more worried than he already was that the man was going to pass out halfway to the market.

Anur could carry him, but he’d probably end up asking for assistance from Kari or Hansa and resigning himself to retching up his toenails sometime today.

Perhaps food? Pistachios had not only been a while ago, they weren’t exactly filling, and fortunately Anur had made a habit of carrying some form of honey-fruit-nut ration bars on his person way back on his first ever solo Circuit. Entering Karse had justed added some meat jerky to his carry-always kit. He’d tried with spice cake, but it had just left crumbs everywhere and mostly dissolved besides, which had been a waste of spice cake, and very sad.

“Ration bar?” he offered, pulling said wax-cloth wrapped bar out of his inner coat pocket, “I also have jerky, and you’re accepting one of those two offers. I don’t particularly want to end up carrying you to your sister.”

Garth Nolans stared at him for a while, and Anur made sure to keep his expression mild, whereas with Kir he would already be glowering.

“I’ll split the bar with you,” Nolans finally conceded, and Anur would take that for the victory it was. He passed the man the bar to split and returned to the glasses and pitcher of water by the window, still half full. Tea would be better, but he was hardly going to be asking for heated water and Kir was far too tired for experimenting with their apparently deepened mental connection right now. Water would do.

Dropping into his former seat, he passed Nolans a cup of water and accepted half a ration bar in exchange, biting into it and taking a sip of just enough water to soften the edible glue he had just eaten. Former city guard instead of banditry, but Nolans had evidently had just as much experience with the high energy ration bars it felt like every unit had their own recipe for, yet none of them actually tasted much different.

Anur was a little biased, but the 62nd's was pretty unique as well as not-terrible, thanks to regular ingredient swaps with Captain Naomi’s bunch. The cooks on both sides were definitely exchanging tips and tricks at this point, he recognized more than a few Valdemaran-style dishes making their way into the mess hall, and the few times he was back with the 76th, there were some distinctively Karsite spices on offer.

“Brother came first,” Garth said abruptly. Anur was still chewing his first bite, so he just raised an eyebrow at the man; he hesitated, but apparently decided he was curious enough to risk asking, “Brother to a Firestarter? How in the hells did that happen?”

Anur swallowed, stalling for time with another sip of water, before he had to laugh.

“You know, you’re the first person to actually ask me that,” Anur said wryly, shaking his head at the startled look Nolans sent him, “People know the story, in broad strokes, but – well. No one ever asked. I honestly couldn’t even tell you the exact moment I decided this Firestarter that by some miracle hadn’t killed me for witchcraft when we first met was my brother, but he is.”

“Kill you for witchcraft?” Nolans asked faintly, definitely sounding like he was starting to regret asking.

“I was very obviously Talented, the way we met,” Anur said, looking back on that freezing night in Hardorn with fondness he-at-that-time could have never imagined, “And he was very obviously a Firestarter.”

Not that he had known what the black trim on those robes had meant at the time, but he had known very well what the red robes and sun-medallion meant in general, and he had known he might have to run. Might have to fight, when all he had wanted was a chance to drink something alcoholic somewhere being a little standoffish wouldn’t be odd. There had been better than even odds that he would have run into Kris and Talia on their way to King Alessendar’s court, and he’d been stressed about it for weeks. When they hadn’t even detoured, when Aelius had admitted that Tantris had never even reached out to ask if they were available for a briefing on the border situation –

It had hurt. Stupidly. Kris and Talia had undoubtedly been briefed in Haven, by experts, and even by Circuit Heralds en route or border Heralds more centrally stationed near the Eastern Trade Road than him. But Kris had been his yearmate, no matter what else might be between them, and he’d thought that maybe Kris would want to talk.

And then the Death Bell had rung, and Kris was dead.

Anur was deeply grateful that he hadn’t been close to any of the Heralds who had died since, callous as that sounded. The Death Bell resonated with Heralds who were close to the dead, regardless of their location in the country. It was only in Haven, when one could physically hear the Bell, that every Herald felt it to some degree. In those first years on the border, he’d had a few moments of doubting anyone outside of Haven would feel his death. By the time Kris had died, Anur had at least thought Lenora would feel something if the Bell rang for him.

Kris’ death had been a surprise, and the fact that Anur had felt it had been almost as much of one. Both had hurt.

He’d taken the chance to eat another chunk of his ration bar, and Nolans was doing the same, though definitely shaking his head in disbelief as he did. Anur was rather unsurprised that he didn’t ask any further questions – every time Anur had answered questions today he could practically see the double-takes people were so very careful not to make. It was honestly half the fun of answering.

Haven was going to be nerve-wracking, but also hilarious.

Draining the last of his water, Anur took Nolans’ also empty cup and set them back to be washed by whoever handled those things in the Courts. Hopefully they were a little less jumpy than the District staff who Anur had needed to actively lay in wait for in order to see. To be fair, he had never really needed to speak to the District’s staff outside of the tailors Jaina had dragged him and Kir to for dress uniform fittings and the hostlers that had finally stopped eyeing them warily sometime this fall, but he’d been curious and more than half convinced the Hall was somehow cleaned by magic because he’d never seen anyone besides the Firestarters and their invited guests inside.

Jaina had ended up explaining to both of them that the Hall was cleaned and maintained on a rotating schedule, designed deliberately to avoid the Firestarters as much as possible. No one was clear who that schedule was favoring, exactly, but Kir had finally managed to sit down with the person in charge of managing staffing late last spring and informed them if anything needed to change about the Hall and the way the Firestarting Order was interacting with the District staff, they only needed to let him know and he would act on it.

It was one of the few times Kir had asked Kari to accompany them to a meeting in an effort to be reassuring, rather than intimidating. Late summer they’d received a very warily worded request that any requests for meals to be brought to the Hall be made at least a full day in advance, and Anur and Kir had stared at each other in honest bafflement. How had that not already been the policy? Needless to say, they had tracked down every Firestarter and passed that request on as an order, and Kavrick’s coughing admission that he was likely the reason for the letter had netted rolled eyes from the both of them, seeing as he had requested two meals on short notice when Loshern had been called back to Sunhame for some reason or another.

Kir had been the one to point out that the whole thing had likely been a test from everyone involved: Kavrick and Loshern, that Loshern could visit even after it was relatively well known that he and Kavrick were some degree of romantically involved, the District staff, that Kir and Anur would actually respect their requests, and Kavrick again, that he could openly speak of his romantic involvement with another man without being castigated for it.

Anur was looking forward to Kavrick’s face when he realized that Anur was definitely sending Rodri to him to get a summary of safe sex practices for sex between two men, regardless of Rodri admitting to being attracted to men as well as women. Anur could handle the conversations about sex between a man and a woman, which Kir had flatly told him he had better be the one to explain, but between men? Not exactly something he could discuss outside of theory, and with Kavrick on hand, why limit Rodri’s horizons?

If Rodri ended up like Kir, utterly uninterested in any sex ever, Anur would be a little disappointed. He was really looking forward to the look on Kavrick’s face.

“You said you wanted to remove your signs of office,” Nolans reminded him before they reached the door.

“Ah, right. Thank you for the reminder,” Anur said, hastily draping his coat over one arm to undo his sash and fold it up. It would fit in an interior pocket, same with the Sun in Glory. It was cold enough outside that he likely could have gotten away with just buttoning his coat over them, but best not to borrow any more trouble than he already had.

Fortunately, Anur was well practiced at following without looking like he was following, even if he hadn’t had to rely on body-language alone with Kir in years. Walking alongside Garth Nolans through the streets – where Nolans was definitely leading them through side streets, likely out of habit – was less noticeable than trailing him. It did make the silence a little awkward, at least for Anur. He didn’t have much he could say though. All they really had in common to talk about was this case, which would be attention grabbing to speak of and potentially distressing, which he wanted to avoid, and Valerik’s existence –

Well. That could work.

“Never heard. Val get medical attention?” Nolans asked abruptly, the sudden question all the more jarring because Anur’s mind had been running on such similar lines.

“He did,” Anur confirmed, unsure where exactly he’d heard that from but he knew it was true, “He’ll be all right, though full recovery will likely take a while.”

“As bad off as he was?” Nolans huffed tiredly, looking relieved nonetheless, “Wouldn’t expect to see him grabbing drinks for a while.”

“And we’ll probably miss any bail outs till next winter at this rate,” Anur grumbled, “Damn it. I want to go drinking with him, but he’s still convinced Kir will be furious about the whole barfighting aspect so he won’t invite me!”

“He… thinks you don’t know about that?” Nolans asked, sounding bemused.

“And Jana doesn’t want us to tell him, she wants to watch him panic when we bail him out one time. Why she brought us along today, she thought he’d broken his High Holy Week deal with her, figured he’d earned it,” Anur grinned, because even if the day had ended up going rather spectacularly according to absolutely no one’s plan, it had started out with some excellent potential for hilarity. Even better! If Valerik somehow managed to miss hearing that they’d been with Jaina for the bail out – which he so very easily could, considering how involved he and Kir had been in other things today, leaving their names scattered everywhere instead of just in one incident – more of the men of the Outer Eighth would get the eventual joke!

“Huh. Wonder how they’ll fit that into the theories,” Garth muttered.

“Theories?” Anur prompted.

Garth looked up from his musings, apparently startled he’d said that out loud, before looking distinctly rueful and admitting, “More like bets. Haven’t seen the books in a year or so, but there’s a whole swath of theories about just what is going on with Val and Jana, because something is definitely off. None are right, far as I know.”

“You put your money on one?” Anur asked, gleefully prodding at Aelius, :Aelius, the list!:

:…Chosen, this is definitely not something for the list. I’ll remind you to tell Kir about it though.:

“Oh, some variation of the ‘frontman-slash-enforcer for the family smuggling business’ theory, Jana’s the bookkeeper in that one,” Garth replied, scoffing, “Most of them are along those lines, there’s only so many options that aren’t absolutely insane.”

:One of which is the truth, obviously,: Aelius said.

By the sardonic look Garth sent him, he had much the same thought. Anur was too busy snickering over the idea of a book of bets about Val and Jana. He would definitely need to track down some Val and Jana stories, for bets to spring up around them? There were definitely stories.

“Well, Jana introduced me as Kir’s sworn brother, and Kir as her and Val’s younger brother, finally able to make it back to Sunhame in the winter, first time in years,” Anur smirked, “So even if they make the logical connection between Kir and I as ourselves, no reason for any of the bets to change.”

“And of course every word of it is true,” Garth groaned, “And of course she wouldn’t have said anything else. None of the theories are going to change at all.”

“I mean, you could settle the theories,” Anur allowed, grimacing, “Though I’d ask you not to.”

“Jana made the same request of Maude, and we’d hardly do any less,” Garth replied, waving him off and finally they emerged into the crowded market. Anur had honestly no idea they’d been this close aside from the growing volume due to the crowd, Garth was definitely an expert at those side streets. From the snippets of conversation Anur could hear as they wove their way through, gossip about the golden flames and and the Oathbreaker and the charity temple were on practically everyone’s lips. He wondered how long it would take for word of Vars’ arrest to spread as far. It certainly sounded like the man was just as much of a horror as the Oathbreaker, if focused on a smaller geographical area.

“Garth!”

Maude had immediately spotted them, likely keeping an eye out for her brother, and said brother immediately waved back and slipped through the gap between stalls to get behind his sister’s counter, returning her hug fiercely.

“Did you see Vars get hauled in?” Maude asked, definitely pitching her voice to carry, even if she was speaking mostly to her brother’s shoulder. By the rash of murmurs, people definitely knew the name, as suspected.

“I did,” Garth said, following her lead on volume, “Didn’t leave Fourth Court till he was properly secured.”

Maude pulled back, looking distinctly pleased, and turning to Anur, keeping her voice more conversational, she said, “Thank you for bringing my brother here.”

“Had to come this way anyway,” Anur shrugged, admitting, “At least from the market I can back track to Jana’s place. From Fourth Court? No idea.”

“Fair,” Maude said, though by her bemused expression she was probably wondering just how bad he was at directions when literally all he had to do to reach the District was find a Ray and head inwards. It turned to a pleased smile, though, and she said, “Actually, that’s perfect! Jana was in a bit of a rush and there was some fuss when I got back, she forgot two of her spice cakes – probably forgot she’d ordered extra this year! You can take them to her – she paid in advance, not to worry.”

Anur paused, because that – didn’t sound like Jaina, even with the chaos of today. Eyeing Garth, who raised an eyebrow at him, and then the woman working the neighboring stall, who definitely ducked her head with a grin, and finally Maude, who was holding out two wax-paper and cloth wrapped cakes with a mildly pleased expression that was just this degree of smug, Anur let that hold for another long moment before sighing. He didn’t have time for this, and honestly, free spice cake. He did want to make one thing clear though.

“For the record, I am aware that something here is going unsaid, but I really don’t have the inclination to figure it out right now. Thank you, I’ll be sure Jana gets these. Master Nolans, Mistress Nolans, pleasure to meet you both, even if circumstances were – well. Exhaustingly dramatic. Enjoy the rest of your Midwinter.”

“You as well!” Maude said cheerfully, and if Anur ignored the gleeful whoop that the baker let out when he was a few stalls down – well. She could have just been celebrating Vars’ arrest more blatantly now that she had her brother in her sights.

By the time he reached the District, any last reserve of energy was long spent. Anur needed his brother, some tea, and a nap. The next person or plot to delay him in any way was going to be treated to a full homicidal-maniac snarl, and he wasn’t too proud to admit it. Well, unless it was Rodri. If Rodri showed up and asked for help or needed his attention, he’d give it to him. Or if it was Maltin. Or Etrius.

Or any Firestarter.

He really had adopted them, hadn’t he?

:Hmm. I don’t like the looks of this Seras one. Send him back,: Aelius said mockingly.

:Oh hush, Seras is a second cousin,: Anur retorted, adjusting his grip on the spice cakes Maude had pressed on him, :If I can take Markov as an uncle, Seras can be a distant cousin. Colbern too. I’ll take the others as first cousins.:

:Oh please Rodri is definitely a nephew.:

:So you’re going to be the one to tell Kir he’s a father-figure?:

Aelius’ pause was very loud.

:A fair point,: his Companion allowed, :Never mind. Cousins it is.:

:Did you end up telling Kir any good stories?: Anur asked, :Or did he get distracted with something else?:

:No stories today, no. Solaris was able to keep him focused, when he was too agitated by what he was overhearing from you – there’s definitely a level of intent, of only hearing what you hear when he wants to listen, I think is the best way to distinguish between those circumstances.:

:I can’t decide if I want this change to be a consequence of the Hunting Rite or a consequence of Kir’s scars being aggravated,: Anur grimaced, finally catching sight of the familiar wood-and-stone building the Firestarters called home and giving a relieved sigh. The District itself was more confusing than Sunhame – at least in the sense of getting where he wanted to go. Sunhame all he had to do was head inwards, in the District? He definitely could get turned around unless he retraced his steps exactly, hence needing to use the same gate to Inner Sixth as they’d exited from.

:Both options are worrying in their own way,: Aelius agreed, hesitating before offering quietly, :I have a much better sense of him now than before – I don’t think scars would affect that.:

:I don’t want to use the Rite again,: Anur admitted, feeling obscurely ashamed.

:I can’t blame you,: Aelius said.

:Anur?: Kir spoke up, presence against his mind flaring, :Are you nearby?:

:I am,: Anur promised, entering the Hall and heading straight for the kitchens. Drop off these cakes, grab some tea if water was hot, and head for the courtyard. :In the Hall even. How are you?:

:Miserable,: Kir admitted, Anur immediately feeling a spike of panic at Kir’s uncharacteristic admission, :I’m getting cold, but there’s still enough fire everywhere I can’t go inside, and I have nowhere near enough control for the Trial to be a good idea.:

That last admission, while deeply concerning, was also one Anur doubted Kir would have ever made without being pushed to do so even last year. Progress!

Pushing open the kitchen door, he nearly ran into Henrik, but fortunately they managed to dodge one another – and not drop the spice cakes or the mugs of tea Henrik was carrying. The younger man winced apologetically, but carried on. Likely heading to check on Valerik himself. Anur would have to get an update from someone. Sometime.

Not now.

Two Sunsguard, familiar faces from Solaris’ usual guardsmen, looking a little tense but that was fair enough, this was hardly their usual environment. They had mugs in front of them at least. Lumira was sitting across from them, writing something, as was Fabron – Jaina was staring at a kettle, likely waiting for it to finish heating, finally looking like herself in black-edged vestments and marriage-braid free.

“We’re waiting on Colbern and Seras with Etrius and Rodri, everyone else has returned,” Jaina summarized, grabbing a third mug, “Once this tea is brewed I’ll bring it out to Kir and Her Eminence.”

“I can bring it,” Anur said, setting the two cakes on the counter next to what looked like a stack of five similarly wrapped cakes, “Brought the two cakes Maude Nolans said you forgot.”

Jaina slammed her fist against the counter, snarling, “Damn it, I didn’t forget any!”

Anur paused, and carefully picked up the two cakes again, saying, “Did I say forgot? I didn’t say that, definitely not.”

“Apologies,” Jaina grumbled, burying her face in her hands and taking a slow breath before straightening and explaining tiredly, “She was trying to convince me to take two extra spice cakes as thanks practically the moment we left Fourth Court. I turned her down – repeatedly – and barely managed to get away with only the five cakes I ordered. I was rather proud of myself for managing, honestly.”

“Well, judging by the gleeful cheer I heard when I walked away, she was pretty proud of getting these extra spice cakes to you,” Anur said, wincing nonetheless because he could guess why Jaina didn’t want these cakes. Not like this. Not as thanks for doing their duty. He understood both sides, to be honest. Feeling the debt and wanting to offer something, and feeling there was no debt, if anything there was a debt owed the other way, because this should have been caught earlier. This should never have happened.

Something occurred to him, and he grinned, “So you don’t want these?”

“I usually buy three, I already added two cakes to the standard order because of you, I don’t think you need two more spice cakes.”

“Oh no, I won’t keep both of them,” Anur said, putting one back on the counter and heading for the courtyard, “I have a better plan!”

The Sunsguard were hiding smiles in their own mugs – they definitely knew exactly where Anur was going with this.

“Solaris!” Anur called through the doorway, hard pressed to keep his tone light at the sight of his brother so very clearly in pain, “Want some spice cake?”

“Obviously!” she called back.

“Great! I’ll leave it on the table for you!” he said, doing as promised before going straight back outside, ignoring Jaina’s spluttering.

In a better mood, in a less infuriating time, hearing Jaina spluttering – over the offer of spice cake, over his walking straight into fire, either or both – it would be amusing. But right now he was too worried to even consider delaying longer, ignoring the by now nearly familiar way his brother’s fire curled across his clothes and skin without burning.

Kneeling at Kir’s side, he wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and winced when Kir immediately slumped against him, breathing ragged, but at least not wet sounding, and worryingly chill. Anur murmured, “We have to get you inside Kir, it’s only going to get colder.”

“Fires were keeping us warm for a good while,” Solaris murmured, one hand settled between Kir’s shoulder-blades, and exchanging a nod with a worried looking Jaina, having apparently foregone waiting for the tea and followed Anur out, halberd in hand, “But between them finally starting to subside and the clouds rolling in…”

“And it looks like it’ll be a proper storm tonight,” Anur murmured, glancing around at the airborne fire in the courtyard. Not awful, and it sounded like they were better than before so progress had happened, but still far too much to be safe indoors, not with Kir’s ability to put fires out temporarily compromised.

“We are definitely adding fire suppression to the list of necessary and cultivated skills for Firestarters after this,” Jaina said darkly, “I do not like how much of this has fallen to you by default.”

“Not the priority,” Kir rasped, Anur ignoring his brother’s insistence that combating blood magic and readying themselves for Ancar’s assault had to take priority over such a niche skill as total suppression of sparks in favor of giving Aelius the mental equivalent of a tug on the sleeve.

:Aelius?: he asked, hoping against hope there was something his Companion could do, because had no idea what they could do for this besides get a bunch of blankets and braziers out here and camp out, which sounded less than ideal, and not just because Kir was injured.

:…I don’t know that I can help,: Aelius said carefully, :Kari, I realize you are tired, but would it be at all possible for you to suppress these flames forcibly? I know you’ve done it before with the golden flames. If it’s a purely power concern, I can likely channel some through you, though without knowing the working you’re using I don’t know how helpful that will be.:

:I can manage it for a time,: Kari said, lifting his head from his paws and meeting Anur’s gaze, looking just as worried as Anur felt, :With this being true backlash, I was wary to do so, aside from being unsure I can manage it long enough. Reactions like this – best to let it run its course, I thought. Though with the weather changing – yes, I can do that. To have better odds of this lasting long enough… if I could lean on you for support, Aelius?:

:Of course,: the Companion promised, :Come see me when you have a moment, we might be able to work out a proper exchange instead of a short term shore-up.:

Kari nodded, before rising to his feet from Kir and Solaris’ legs, sitting down at Anur’s side and closing his eyes in concentration. His brother’s half-rant cut off abruptly, shuddering as the agitated flares of his mind started settling, and the flames on the outskirts of the zone started to vanish. Anur felt his own breathing hitch, when he registered the – the blanketing sensation that seemed to come along with that forcible extinguishing. It felt like there was a weight against his skin, as if he were underwater.

“That’s not something we want to use for long,” he murmured, Kir huffing a laugh.

“Same sort of feeling as the other times,” Kir said quietly, “You’re just feeling it too now.”

:Oh that is definitely a Hunting Rite consequence,: Aelius grumbled.

:Something more to explore,: Anur sighed, Kir grimacing as he nodded.

“We’ve got – what, nearly two marks till Descending?” Anur estimated, glancing between Jaina and Solaris.

“Something like that,” Jaina agreed, “And it is our Descending, we can delay or shorten as we like. Will you be able to walk, Kir?”

“Once I get standing? Yes,” Kir said, “Stairs might be a challenge.”

“Yes, likely,” Solaris agreed, glancing Jaina’s way and saying politely, “Holiness Jaina, if you could precede us, I’ll assist Anur in getting Kir up the stairs?”

“Yes, certainly – I’ll go ahead and set bricks to warm,” Jaina said, picking up Kir’s vestments from the bench as she went, Kari trailing after her.

That reminded him, “Oh, Hansa says he’ll come back to you when you – “

“Leave the Hall, yes, he said,” Solaris interrupted, moving to a crouch and hooking Kir’s arm over her shoulder, “On three?”

“On three,” Kir agreed.

“Devin, are you just taking notes on questions, or do you have a list of these names, I’m losing track of who’s who.”

“Oh. No. I… probably should.”

“We know the important ones! Kir, Anur, Kari and Rodri!”

“And Aunt Eminence, of course.”

“Devin.”

“What? It’s respectful!”

Chapter Text

Anur was debating between going straight to sleep now that Kir had passed out or having his own scrub down beforehand. He knew he needed to choose the latter option, doing otherwise when Kir had put the effort into cleaning off before sleeping despite his injuries would be counterproductive in the extreme, but he could pretend there were options.

:Hansa says Solaris needs a word – it will be quick,: Aelius said quietly.

Anur grimaced, but headed for the hallway. At least she was waiting by the door, rather than somewhere he’d have to go and find her.

“A few things,” she said, expression sympathetic but with no hesitation or regret. Good, he had no patience for that right now. Giving her a curt nod, he stepped back and let her into his and Kir’s room; even if this conversation didn’t directly refer to something they didn’t want anyone who happened to enter the hallway to overhear, he was too tired to stay on top of not referring to the things he shouldn’t yet. Best not to risk it, especially today.

“First,” Solaris murmured, “Holiness Jaina says she has some ideas for a safeguard ward that will replace Kari’s working – at least for the duration of the Conclave meetings, she admits it likely won’t work for smaller rooms than the Hall, it apparently relies on the main Hall’s lack of immediately ignitable materials.”

“I will gladly take it,” Anur muttered, slumping in relief. Worst come to worst, they could grab bedrolls and sleep on the Hall’s floor. They wouldn’t be outside in the middle of a snowfall.

“I thought you might,” Solaris said, hesitating before continuing lowly, “The two of us need to have a longer conversation, possibly with Kir, possibly without. I am… concerned, by his refusal to acknowledge the fact the Sunlord smiles upon him. That would not be too problematic in and of itself, but he is denying his own abilities and allowing others to form inaccurate opinions of him.”

“That’s – going to be a long conversation,” Anur said, wincing, “And not a conversation we can have in Sunhame, Solaris.”

“Well I was going to be coming to the 62nd to work with you two on soul-attack mitigation techniques, we’ll add it to that itinerary,” Solaris said, looking thoughtful, “The topics actually connect well, now that I think of it. Now. There was mention of a Sunsguard Captain in need of a soul healer. I will be getting you two a list of available soul healers in Sunhame, but you need to be aware that Kir is on it – not consciously trained, but he has that ability.”

:If that’s something passive – that explains perfectly why Captain Marghi has such damage while none of the three of you did, you were all in proximity to Kir afterwards long term,: Aelius pointed out.

:It does explain things, but Kir would not take being named a soul healer well,: Anur grumbled, because he had a feeling that soul healing was very much along the lines of being an exorcist – it was not a path one could choose, it was one chosen for you by the Sunlord, and Kir struggled so very much with the idea of choices being taken from him. To this day, he insisted he had chosen to be a Firestarter, had chosen his path in the priesthood, when literally anyone on the outside who wasn’t a complete bastard would know that a choice made under the sort of stakes Verius had set was no choice at all.

One of Solaris’ phrases sprang to mind, and he sighed, quoting, “Allowing others to form inaccurate opinions of him. You’re referring to Grevenor.”

“Not merely Grevenor – he has additional complications, we will discuss it,” Solaris promised, before nodding and admitting, “But his actions today have highlighted a… misconception, that is being allowed to stand. I have been working on the matter when it comes to members of my Council, but this has clearly gone on too long as it is, and my efforts to point out the flaws in their thinking are not sufficient. I will be calling a meeting during this Conclave to deal with things a little less gently than I have been. To that end, do you happen to have that list of names I sent to Kir for investigation?”

“Ah – not the original,” Anur said, blindsided by the request and by Solaris’ rather dire tone as she promised to ‘deal with things a little less gently’. It was nothing they didn’t deserve, in Anur’s mind, but he was also self-aware enough to know his and Kir’s responses – or at least desired responses – to actions taken against one another could be a little disproportionate, “Our copy is mildly ciphered. And in the first pages of Kir’s chronicle.”

“Ah,” Solaris winced, tucking her hands up her sleeves and giving the definitely deeply asleep Kir and Kari a worried look, “Hmm. Is there any way I could copy those pages?”

“Well, I mean literally, certainly, but it’s long,” Anur waffled, wincing himself because that wasn’t why he wanted to say no. Kir and he swapped journals-called-chronicles occasionally to read particular segments to ensure they hadn’t missed something important in their own records, but they always marked the section they were offering up and didn’t read outside it. It was only polite.

Kir also had a tendency to take very esoteric philosophical and theological digressions when he really got going, and while Anur enjoyed reading those and asking his brother questions, he could also imagine his brother not wanting just anyone to know about them. He also knew that Kir had spent days writing of Lief Gero’s death, and the idea of anyone reading that entry in particular without his brother’s knowing consent was nauseating.

“When you get to your office, and have your office secured, and are ready to copy the list, send Hansa here for it. I’ll have the chronicle bound so it’ll only open to those pages. When you’re done copying it, have Hansa bring it right back,” Anur said, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to continue, “Solaris. Please.”

The Son of the Sun caught his hands in hers and raised them to her forehead as she bowed, promising, “I swear to you, Anur Bellamy, brother to my brother, I will not violate this trust. You say they are ciphered?”

“Yes,” Anur bit out, uncomfortable with the call he had made, regardless of Aelius’ quiet supportiveness and knowing that Kir quite literally trusted Solaris with his soul, pulling back from Solaris, who at least seemed to understand the magnitude of the trust he was offering, and grabbing Kir’s journal from their packs. It was certainly going to be filled by the time Kir finished documenting the family visit and this winter.

It had made getting Kir a gift a lot easier than usual this year, at least.

Opening the book to the first page, Anur ran his finger down the list of names and explained lowly, “The names he didn’t change, though his handwriting is deliberately terrible, but the rankings are flipped. Reds are blacks, and vice versa, and the duties and regions of assignment he uses legendary references and the like. But I would think names and rank would be enough for you?”

“Yes, I remember most of them, particularly on seeing the names – or at least the first few letters of each name,” Solaris murmured, “There were just too many for me rattle all of the names off if I didn’t have something to jog my memory.”

“It is quite long,” Anur agreed, “The ones with a star next to them are those we and you deemed most critical for investigation. If we drew a line through the name, they’ve been investigated and a decision made. The circles mean we personally met them, the squares that we compiled information from trusted sources to make the call – if there are both, then both contributed to the decision. The hash marks are what the decision was. One for death, turned it into a cross after they were dead, two for reassignment or more careful monitoring, so that’s the list we gave to you last winter, three for not a threat.”

“That is exactly what I need,” Solaris informed him, watching as he flipped through the pages to find the last one with names and took one of Kir’s spare scraps of string to bind the remaining pages to the back cover.

“May I ask what you need it for, exactly?” Anur asked, feeling exhausted all over again as he set the book on the desk for Hansa to easily find it. He was not looking forward to explaining this to Kir; knowing what Solaris planned to do with it would at least be something he could offer.

By Solaris’ long silence, it was complicated.

:Is anything in this country not complicated?: Aelius asked sourly.

:…spice cake?:

:Have you read some of those recipes?:

“Not so complicated,” Solaris murmured, catching his hands in hers again and smiling faintly, “Your expressions are very loud, sometimes. No need for that Talent of yours. But it is not a decision I am particularly proud of, regardless of the necessity.”

Before Anur could worry about that, she elaborated, saying, “I did not know the people on that list. I could not make a decision based on the rumors I was hearing, and needed someone I trusted to investigate. If every name on that list had one hash mark alongside it, I would lose no sleep over it.”

Anur could feel the blood drain from his face, because that – it was a somewhat natural conclusion, to the request Solaris had made of them all those years ago. If she had not doubted, had not worried they did need to be killed for their threat level to the people of Karse and lack of willingness to at least potentially accept her reforms, they would not have been on that list to begin with. But that was a very long list of names, and for Solaris to state that if Kir had decided to kill every single one of them, she would accept that with hardly a pause?

Kir would be heartbroken. He had been heartbroken, and furious, and horrified, every time they found someone on that list they deemed in need of killing.

“I would be saddened,” Solaris said gently, evidently seeing some of that horror in Anur’s too loud expression, “I would not be pleased. But I would not be devastated.”

Squeezing his hands before releasing him, Solaris tucked her hands back up her sleeves and smiled sadly, “You see then, that my Council’s insistence that Kir, and, by extension, the Firestarting Order, is the primary source of the violence my regime change has brought about is not only wrong, but insulting to us all.”

Anur couldn’t say anything. Solaris understood, regardless, and bowed her head slightly, saying quietly, “Get some rest, Anur. You and our brother both. I will send Hansa for the chronicle as you described.”

She shut the door behind her, and only then did Anur manage to move. He went straight for the privy, stripping off boots and overcoat as he went. He needed to wash up, and take a nap. Hopefully not have nightmares of what his brother would have forced himself to become in the name of Karse’s people, had he been cornered into Ascending.

:She is the ruler of a nation. She is the leader of a coup, in truth,: Aelius said quietly, :Anur. This is not surprising, Chosen-mine.:

:I know,: Anur said, not bothering with a full tub and filling a basin with warm water instead. Better to get this done quickly before he started thinking too much again.

:I know,: he repeated, :Kir – he won’t be surprised, either. I think. It’s just – it’s one thing to know it, it’s another to hear it, if that makes any sense at all.:

:Of course it does,: Aelius agreed, :I rather think the entire Council will be facing the same realization, Chosen, they could hardly think she wasn’t capable of ruthlessness. She arranged her Ascent in a viper pit, that is hardly something that could be accomplished without it! It can be uncomfortable, though, to know someone you respect and even love can be not only capable of entirely cold-blooded decisions, but has in fact made them.:

:That’s exactly it,: Anur realized, splashing his face one last time before grimacing and dunking his hair in the basin. This was going to be freezing, washing hair was always the worst. :The specific example, that list, it is so long Aelius, we could never have actually investigated them all thoroughly and made a call, not in the time we had, not even if we’d dropped everything and focused on that. For Solaris to be willing to just… write those people off, it feels like, even though it wasn’t, she asked us to investigate, not just execute them…:

:But the fact she was willing to look at that list and say all of these people might be in need of killing. Not that they were in need of it, but that they might be, and that if that had been the course taken, she would have accepted it as necessary,: Aelius supplied, sounding sympathetic, :I imagine that is why she needed the list. Having that specific example to point at – particularly when she can point at all the names still living, all the names investigated and deemed safe or for potential rehabilitation once she Ascended, and state with perfect honesty that Kir’s judgment, that his determination to thoroughly investigate and only make calls when he truly felt he knew enough to do so, is the reason those individuals are alive? It will be a powerful statement. A powerful tool.:

:Think it will work?: Anur asked sourly, pouring the now distinctly murky water down the drain and toweling off, :With Grevenor, I mean? Well, perhaps not, she said that was more complicated, which is just… perfect.:

:Well we’re rather spoiled for choice as far as what his more complicated circumstances are, so I wouldn’t fret about it until she updates us. As for if this will work – well. It will certainly make them all have a good long think about their assumptions on Kir and Solaris and just how that relationship balances out.:

:Good, because it sounds like they need it,: Anur decided, firmly putting that whole mess of a conversation with Solaris to one side for later discussion and mulling as he got dressed in his sleep clothes. He needed to at least try to nap.

Anur pulled some warm socks on before climbing into bed, careful to not fling any limbs across Kir like he usually did – his brother’s back was practically black with bruising in some places, even the weight of the blankets had him hissing when he was first settling. Staring up at the ceiling and letting his breathing slow to match Kir’s, Anur tried to let his thoughts quiet.

They did, slowly, but just as he was starting to slip into a doze, one occurred to him, and he couldn’t leave it unsaid, even if no one but he and Aelius would be aware enough to appreciate it right now.

Turning to his sleeping brother, he muttered, “Your sisters, every single one of them, are absolutely terrifying.”

=pagebreak=

Kir woke up to Aelius’ voice, quietly saying, :First Eve rang, half-mark to Descending rang right afterwards.:

He had just enough time to register those words, register the fact he needed to get up, when he felt like his head was about to cleave in two. Whatever Holiness Yelena had done to reduce inflammation or whatever it was she had said his Talent overuse had caused had either worn off or had done the best it could, which left this excruciating pain only part of what he could have expected to experience.

“Easy, easy,” Anur was murmuring, sounding grimly unsurprised and carefully pressing his fingertips against Kir’s temples, “Breathe through it. Aelius is going to avoid mindspeaking with you any more, as am I, as is Kari. Talent headaches can get aggravated by any Talent use regardless of the overextension source, so no magic either, all right?”

“I remember,” Kir groaned, Kari’s whole body vibrating with rumbling purrs next to him.

“Do we need to call this Conclave opening business off?” Anur asked quietly.

“No,” Kir said, “But we’re definitely not getting a head start on any business tonight. Descending, opening declarations, shared meal, bed.”

“Deal,” Anur said, “And someone will be taking notes, so even if we can’t remember what was said tonight, we’ll be able to find out.”

“Oh Etrius is planning to transcribe the whole thing,” Kir said, giving himself one more breath cycle before nodding against Anur’s shoulder, “Right. We’d best get moving.”

Sitting upright with what Anur had described as distinctly purple-black bruising mottled across his back was terrible, but at least that spike of pain distracted from the throbbing in his head. Getting dressed was similarly painful, but that he had already known – Anur had needed to help him into his sleep clothes after he’d washed the worst of the grime off. Finally all that was left was his vestments, and Anur’s decision to wear his dress uniform rather took the choice of which set he should wear out of his hands.

“Jaina said the opening was usually the most formal part of this whole thing,” Kir grumbled, “Best go for the nicer vestments. You have my Sun in Glory.”

“It’s by Kari on the desk,” Anur said, helping him get the heavier wool robe over his shoulders. “Mantle too?”

“Might as well,” Kir very carefully didn’t shrug as he fastened the hidden buttons along robe’s chest. There were two sets of buttonholes – he’d requested his vestments fit over his preferred armored vest, the double set of buttonholes were apparently the compromise, “These are a little too formal to skip any one piece of it.”

“Eh, the mantle could probably be thrown over your field robes if they were having a good day and we were desperate for some extra flash,” Anur said, eyeing said mantle before throwing it over his head and settling it in place gently, “Does it clasp anywhere?”

“Hmm. Just that front chain I think,” Kir muttered, wincing at the added weight against his back. He’d adjust soon enough, “The wool is rather heavy, and I think the embroidery helps shape it. We’ll see how it stays, can always add something.”

“True enough,” Anur agreed, Fetching the Sun in Glory to his hand and smirking, “Good thing Rodri went with the simple design. Some of those options we were finding were rather heavy.”

“Can you imagine how over the top the vestments must have been to match those?” Kir shuddered, ducking his head to let Anur settle the chain around his neck, “There had to have been so much flash.”

“Oh definitely embroidered gems and enough gold and silver plating to turn them into armor in their own right,” Anur agreed, “Maybe some feathers!”

“Some what?” Kir demanded, aghast at the idea of that combination, and by Kari’s flattened ears, the Firecat didn’t think much of that suggestion either.

“Feathers! They’re – fashion things. I think. For hats?”

“Maybe in Valdemar – “

“We have not met nearly enough people in Karse of the appropriate social strata to know if feathers are a fashion statement or not, don’t even try!”

They locked eyes, and promptly started laughing. Anur managed to regain composure first, leaning against the desk and wiping at his eyes, still giving the occasional snicker. Kir was still chuckling as he settled next to Anur, Kari resting his head on his shoulder, a source of warmth against his side.

Feeling his hand brush a book when he reached to pet Kari, he glanced down and frowned, holding his chronicle up and noting the way someone – in other words, Anur – had tied the bulk of the pages with cord so one couldn’t easily page through it. The only pages not held by that tie were the ones holding Solaris’ list of names.

“Solaris needed the list of names and outcomes,” Anur said, sounding abruptly weary and far too apologetic, “I got her to promise not to look at anything else, and Hansa came here to fetch it once she was ready to copy it out, and brought it right back when she was done copying. I’m sorry, Kir, I should have asked you first.”

“When exactly did she ask for the list?” Kir asked, setting the chronicle back down and making a mental note to figure out where to get another journal soon, this winter would undoubtedly see him squeezing words into the last pages. He clasped Anur’s hand and promised, “I’m not upset. She’s the one who gave us that list, and we’ve reported all the outcomes and sources to her at various points, it sounds like she needs a summary, that list is the easiest one.”

“While you were asleep, we had – a bit of a conversation, before she left,” Anur said, grimacing, “That was one of the things. There were. Others. I postponed some for when she comes to the 62nd, and one was her dodging my questions about Grevenor and explaining what she wanted the list for. It was. A little upsetting.”

“What is she planning to use it for?” Kir asked, brow furrowing before he winced at the spike of pain, saying, “Never mind, I really can’t concentrate well right now. Hopefully tomorrow this has stabilized. Anur, you seem more upset about handing her my chronicle for that list than me, I truly don’t care, especially not with the evident care you took to ensure she focused on the list alone. And as tired as I was? As I still am? If you had woken me up to ask me about it I would have tried to set your hair on fire, and as badly as my head hurts right now, that effort would have left me in tears.”

Anur huffed a laugh, shaking his head and leaning in to press their brows together, “Which would have left me in even more of a panic. Just as well then. I should have waited to ask you, she can’t have needed it urgently in the last hour or so, it could have waited. I just wanted to wrap things up, didn’t think it through.”

“We are rather used to immediately knowing one another’s opinions, thanks to mindspeech,” Kir pointed out, “And neither of us were or are at our best right now. Its fine, brother. Truly. Thank you for telling me. Nothing I need to know for tonight though?”

“Hmm. Jaina apparently said something about a safeguard to replace Kari’s working during the Conclave itself? Somehow it relies on being in a bigger room lacking in immediately flammable materials, like the main Hall.”

“Might be a flame exclusion ward,” Kir mused, glancing at Kari and taking a moment to assess that muffling, blanketing sensation still swaddling his fire-related senses. It seemed less than at the outset, but he could also be pressing against it less as he regained more of his own control.

“How are you doing, Kari?” Kir murmured, wrapping an arm around the Cat.

Kari rubbed his face against Kir’s chest, Anur relaying quietly, “Tired, he says, and he hopes Jaina’s ward works, as he doesn’t think he can maintain this all night without aid. He also says that it feels to him as though things are settling further, that he has to apply less pressure to keep flames from igniting, but it’s not run its course yet. Kari, about that. If Jaina’s ward works and you’re concerned you can’t maintain this all night, Kir and I can just sleep in the Hall, we have our bedrolls. But – Kir, you said maybe a flame-exclusion ward? How is that different from what we needed at the charity temple?”

“Ah – exclusion versus suppression, it would have been – like yesterday. Though I suppose you didn’t see that,” Kir murmured, sighing and giving his best shot at an explanation, “It’s different. What we needed today was suppression – complete and total. What Jaina’s ward, well, if I’m right about what Jaina’s ward is, it would be based on what she used for the Trial. It wouldn’t prevent sparks from happening, it would prevent sparks from catching, essentially by funneling them outside of the region holding the exclusion ward. So fires wouldn’t be allowed to enter, and fires which were lit within it would be redirected outside. It wouldn’t prevent the spark or those first seconds of burning, and with something as immediately dangerous as tightly packed volatiles, even that spark would have been disastrous. I suspect the warding would have shattered.”

“So it is not suppression,” he concluded, “It would be exclusion. As for sleeping in the Hall – that would work.”

He still grimaced at the thought of how his back would feel tomorrow morning if they ended up going through with that back up plan, but it was better that than accidentally burning all of their things as they slept and possibly setting neighboring rooms alight while he was at it.

“Kari is hopeful it won’t come to that, Aelius and he have figured out a slow seep energy exchange that somehow means Kari doesn’t have to strain to incorporate it into his working? I don’t know, but he seems to think it will help,” Anur shrugged. Kir could guess some of what Aelius was referring too, remembering the way the Companion had poured mage-power into Kir’s own workings, but it sounded like there was something different about this, because what had happened during the crown fire had been far from slow.

“We’ll hope for some combination of the ward and that power exchange to be sufficient then,” Kir said, “But I’m mostly relieved there’s an option that doesn’t involve either the Trial or going outside.”

Anur snorted, standing and helping Kir regain his feet before ushering him and Kari towards the door, saying, “I had exactly the same thought.”

Anur swung the door open, and Rodri was there, one hand raised to knock. The teen’s eyes lit up with relief when he saw them, darting forward with a glad, “Father Kir!”

“Whoa, easy Rodri no impact, all right?” Anur said, Kir not quite able to hide a relieved sigh when his brother managed to catch Rodri mid-lunge. Usually their student’s enthusiastic greetings were endearing, but right now that would just be pain and heartache all around.

“Father Seras said there was nothing terrible!” Rodri said, relief vanishing in favor of what sounded like a proper panic and Kir quickly stepped forward with Kari, settling a hand on Rodri’s shoulder and waiting a few moments to let Kari finish speaking. His student looked a little less frantic by the time he looked up from the Cat to Kir.

“It isn’t anything terrible,” Kir promised, waiting for Rodri to nod and returning the gesture before repeating, “Nothing terrible, Rodri. I have an awful headache, and extensive bruising on my back from getting thrown by that explosion, but my bones and lung were healed. Eardrums too.”

“So there was something terrible,” Rodri muttered, clearly furious at Seras for the seeming lie.

“Ah, but did he say there wasn’t? He said there isn’t, and that part is true,” Kir replied, smiling at Rodri’s glower and pulling his student into a hug, “I’m all right Rodri. Just don’t hug me back, that bruising is deep.”

“Father Seras should have told me if he knew, and said he didn’t know if he didn’t!” Rodri insisted, “I would have believed him if he said you’d been healed or were going to be healed!”

“Would you have been stressed enough to call fire to your hands?” Kir asked gently.

By the way Rodri’s grip on his vestments tightened, Kir could guess the answer.

“We’ll discuss it with him,” Kir promised, “But he did not actively lie to you, and while I am injured, it is truly nothing to fret about. Nothing a bit of time and rest won’t fix. Nothing terrible.”

“No hugs is pretty terrible,” Rodri muttered, Anur and Kari both laughing in their own ways.

“See, Rodri gets it,” Anur teased, resting a hand on Rodri’s head, “Come on, Rodri, we have to get downstairs. I think. Descending is in the main Hall tonight, isn’t it?”

“All Conclave services are,” Rodri confirmed, stepping back and pulling a kerchief out of his sleeve, apparently only just registering what they were wearing and beaming, “Are those your new winter vestments?”

“They are,” Kir confirmed, rather needlessly.

“Kari says to tell you they’re very nice, and tasteful,” Rodri relayed politely before frowning, “You can’t use the mind talking Talent right now?”

“Well, I could,” Kir grimaced at the idea of it nonetheless, starting down the hall, “Have you ever given yourself a headache from calling on fire too much?”

“No,” Rodri said promptly, “Axeli told me it could happen though, so I was careful.”

“I really owe Axeli thanks,” Kir breathed, “Hopefully we can get that visit in. I’m surprised he remembers that. But yes, you can, and that’s my current headache’s source – and likely some from being in an explosion that burst my eardrums, but some of this is definitely Talent overextension. Since Talents are – well. Somewhat the same source, when it comes to what you’re using for the ability to happen, in your mind, at least, overextension headaches from one can make using your others painful, or at least using the others can make your headache worse.”

“Magic does that too though, right?”

“Magic is a Talent,” Kir said, smiling faintly at Anur when his brother offered an arm to get down the stairs. He definitely took him up on the offer, adding, “Hansa confirmed it too, didn’t he?”

“Well the Hunting Rite denunciation bit did it for me, but yes, Hansa confirmed it afterwards,” Anur agreed, Rodri spinning around on the landing with a stunned expression.

“The Hunting Rite? You actually used it! And I missed it,” their student practically wailed, burying his face in his hands.

Both of them laughed, Anur giving Rodri a prod to keep following Kari down the stairs as he said, “We did. No story exchanges have started up then?”

“Holiness Jaina says we’re all going to have to offer testimony to Justicars tomorrow so it’s better to keep from sharing news and speculation amongst ourselves about this plot until after that,” Rodri reported mournfully, “Even though Etrius and I already gave our testimonies.”

“Well you probably won’t have to give them again,” Kir said, squinting against the better lighting of the corridor, not helped by the snow starting to accumulate in the courtyard. If the skies cleared tomorrow, he’d have to hunker down inside. Snow-glare was bad enough without an already brutal headache. “And the stories are a little too long to justify telling them to you and Etrius and then sharing them again afterwards. I think she’s also giving a serious reason to not pin either of us or Valerik down for explanations until we get a full night’s sleep, which I appreciate.”

“I know but the Hunting Rite!” Rodri groaned.

“If a single one of you start talking about that Rite where I can’t hear you there will be a reckoning,” Seras called down the corridor.

The elder was clearly coming from the archives, a stack of notes in ink-stained fingers and Etrius dogging his heels with a similar stack, though Seras’ vestments had a touch more embroidery than his usual set. If not for Etrius’ faint pallor and uncharacteristic silence, when normally he could be expected to echo his mentor’s insistence on records in slightly more polite phrasing, it could be any other day with the Order’s scholars.

Seras waved Etrius past him; Rodri and Kari evidently saw the same worrying signs, Kari trotting next to Etrius and quickly gaining scratches from the student’s free hand, Rodri falling into step with them and immediately asking about what he had been researching – continuing efforts on Flamesinger it sounded like – while Seras signed for them to wait a moment. When the students were far enough away to feasibly be out of easy earshot, he said lowly, “I am worried for Etrius. Jaina’s order to keep our testimonies separated until tomorrow is a decent preventative for the moment, but my student is clever, it will not take him long to realize that he was supposed to die today, if he hasn’t already.”

Kir exhaled in a careful not-sigh, glancing after the pair of students and feeling his own heart twist with the reminder of how close they could have come to losing them both. If he hadn’t focused so very intently on flammability detection with Rodri the relatively few weeks they were able to get proper time together…

Rodri, at least, would have been a chance victim. One of opportunity. Etrius’ visit had been anticipated, and he had been targeted, by someone he had not considered any sort of threat. Murder attempts from non-enemies were always hard.

“Understandable,” he finally said, rather than any of that, “Whatever support we can offer, simply ask.”

“He will not come to me with it until after the Oathbreaker is dead,” Seras said bluntly, expression twisting with something like loathing before it smoothed away and he murmured, “My student is clever. He knew immediately what I had done, when his tormenters burned, and I don’t doubt he was worried by the lengths I would go to. He has been very careful to explain the exact sources and scope of his distresses to me ever since.”

“We’ll keep ourselves available,” Kir promised finally, not knowing what else they could do.

“And we’ll ask Rodri to keep an eye out while we’re at it, he could use someone else to fuss over,” Anur added, smirking when Kir groaned and they started after the students.

Seras was chuckling, but Kir could counter that, saying over his shoulder, “He’s quite annoyed at you for your definition of nothing terrible, Seras, don’t be too smug!”

“I may have been overconfident in saying that,” Seras admitted, “But I hadn’t gotten a total summary myself, simply heard that Valerik and yourself had been seen to by healers and that the Conclave was still happening. I rather assumed that if anything dire had come of that assessment by the healers, I would have been informed.”

“Which is a fair enough assumption, though I expect you’ll be getting more targeted questions from Rodri regarding injury assessment – “ his breathing stuttered, the muffling blanket Kari had encased him and his Talent in wearing abruptly thinner, too thin, the world was singing –

“‘And yea, the hearths lay cold, and no sparks would light.’”

“Jaina! Where’s that ward start?”

=pagebreak=

Seras gave up the notes as lost, discarding the still smoldering pages in one of the Hall’s many ceramic bowls intended for items left to burn, and eyed the airborne fire with no little wonder, now that he’d prevented the sparks from catching his vestments alight – not as fast as he used to manage, there were scorch marks on one sleeve, but these were wool, he could scrape the char off and find fresh crimson again.

The Eldest was clearly in pain, and very clearly still struggling to contain the flames he was calling into being easier than even breathing. Kari must have gotten too far away to maintain his fire suppression, and was finding it difficult to re-establish. The Eldest’s Enforcer, at least, could stay close. Whatever mental closeness they had developed due to their adventures and Talents was clearly worth its metaphorical weight in gold, considering the way flickers of flame were utterly failing to damage either of them or even their clothes. That was truly impressive, managing not to burn one’s own flesh was doable, but to have enough of a subconscious harness to avoid damaging clothing and the like too?

Even if the Eldest would undoubtedly castigate himself for losing control like this, Seras rather thought it was a needed reminder to them all that their Incendiary’s control was dearly earned, and a true struggle to achieve and maintain to his usual effortless looking degrees.

Besides. No one was being hurt. Jaina had thought of this.

Stepping through the ward to join the rest of the Order while Jaina passed him, a mug of headache tea in hand, Seras focused on their youngest members. Etrius did better when he had someone to fret over himself, and he was definitely focusing his attention on a stricken looking Rodri.

“I owe you an apology, Initiate Rodri,” Seras said formally, the boy tearing his eyes away from his mentor with clear effort to look at him. Very well-mannered, this one. Seras nodded and continued, “My claim that there were no terrible injuries was made without full knowledge of the circumstances. I knew healers had examined them and declared them recovering, if not fully recovered. I did not ask for elaboration, as I assumed if anything was direly wrong after that assessment, I would have been told directly when Kari made his updates.”

“Apology accepted, Father Seras,” Rodri replied, his slight bow and use of the less formal title indicating he meant it, rather than mouthing the words because it was expected of him. Not that this boy was one to say something he didn’t mean – he seemed to be following his mentor’s lead and was growing distressingly straightforward. Colbern would undoubtedly be thrilled. Two generations of Incendiaries more likely to cleave straight through to the heart of things than politely maneuver things out of their way.

Letting those musings go, he focused on his own student and said wryly, “Unfortunately, my notes are a loss.”

“Just as well I noted which texts you were consulting,” Etrius said, looking thoughtful, “Why that quote, rather than an extinguisher?”

“Ah, most extinguishers refer to the evidence and damage flames left behind, whereas in this scenario, ideally no damage would occur in the first place. It is difficult to string spark-ceasing pieces together coherently, however, as they are very scattered, at least in my experience,” Seras said, feeling some of his worry ease at the question. Etrius had been so very quiet on their walk back, and had scarcely asked any questions when they returned to find everyone had arrived before them, even with all the intriguing hints of the sorts of things that had occurred in their absence. It had been the whole reason he had announced his intention to finish up his Flamesinger notes once he was prepared for the Conclave’s opening, he’d been hoping his student would show up. They always had some of their best talks over dusty tomes.

Not today though. Etrius had arrived, certainly, freshly scrubbed and neatly turned out in his best robes, but had barely murmured a greeting before ducking his head and clearly throwing himself into his readings in an effort to avoid speaking. To avoid thinking.

Seras fretted, sometimes, that he had only realized what he had done to Etrius’ peers in his student’s name was wrong, was worrying, when he had found Etrius furiously insisting to Colbern that Seras didn’t need to know about an instructor’s unfair assessment of his work, because the woman was simply ignorant, she didn’t deserve to burn, and utterly ignoring Colbern’s exasperated assurances that Seras would hardly burn someone for not knowing the ins and outs of his student’s reference material. He had no way of knowing if that creeping sensation of wrongness had truly started before overhearing that conversation or if he had only reassessed his ideas of rightful burnings after realizing his student found asking him for help worrying. On his worst days he insisted to himself that it didn’t matter why.

It did though. If only in being able to look himself in the mirror.

“Come on, we’ll try over here and see if the flames are anchored to you. If they’re too firmly attached you two will just stay outside the ward today and we’ll arrange one of the tables to cross the line. It’s all right Kir, the walls can’t burn, none of these flickers last long enough for any of the woodwork here to even start properly heating and it’s definitely better than it was a few marks ago. It’s rather pretty, actually,” Jaina was saying, stepping through the ward line at the far end of the false-corridor made up of a pair of long tables and their associated chairs – most of which had needed to be replaced after last year’s screaming matches. She was carrying a clearly exhausted Kari in her arms, glancing their way before focusing back on the far more fire-wreathed pair.

This was the proper test of her theory, and Seras knew all of them were watching intently.

Fire peeled back as their leading duo passed through the wards, leaving a slightly more active patch of airborne fire for a few moments before that bias faded and the room outside of Jaina’s sheltering dome was relatively evenly scattered with flickering flames of all the warmer shades – even, if he wasn’t mistaken, a few with distinctively golden tones. Jaina was right. It was rather pretty.

The Eldest and his Enforcer both shuddered, quickly drawing every eye back to them, the Enforcer brushing at his clothes for some reason and muttering, “That felt so strange.”

“You felt something?” Jaina asked curiously, “I suppose the flames were simply much closer to you, so that makes some sense…”

“Like walking through cobwebs,” the Eldest grimaced, before taking a deep draw of the mug of tea he was clutching between his hands, “Nothing further. One time sensation, just odd. How long can you hold this ward, Jaina?”

“With the anchors I set up? Indefinitely. Well. Weeks. It’s essentially the ward I developed for the Trial, so even without support I could manage this size for an entire night,” Jaina assured him, matching their pace as they made their way towards the rest of them, assembled closer to the Incendiary’s seat, “I planned to leave it up the entire Conclave, drew a chalk line to indicate it and everything.”

“Thank you,” their Eldest breathed, sounding heartbreakingly relieved.

“Well, it was hardly for your benefit alone,” Jaina said, tone warm despite the dismissive words, “You asked me to help you figure out safeguards for your and Maltin’s work on golden flames, remember? This was what I had planned – admittedly, smaller, and with a six point containment some distance outside it as a secondary layer since those flames were so much more violent and long lasting, but similar. With some others on the anchored six-point we can likely even use this one for that purpose.”

The Enforcer huffed a laugh and muttered something to the Eldest, who rolled his eyes and said, “I ask for help plenty, even before Father Gerichen’s advice, thank you.”

By Kari and the Enforcer’s scoffs, that was something of an exaggeration. It matched Seras’ own memories of the teenager their Incendiary had been when he himself had best known him, but teenagers were far too unstable in personality to make any truly useful conclusions about their adult selves except in hindsight.

“I don’t know,” Jaina said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “I seem to finding a thirteen year old so-called prodigy stranded in the middle of a two-stage bridge crossing and contemplating climbing instead of calling for help.”

“The bridge was made out of unusual fibers!” the Eldest protested, glowering at his Enforcer’s understandably gleeful expression, “I just – listened too hard to them. And set the fibers on fire.”

“Elder Jaina would have the embarrassing childhood stories why didn’t I think of that?” Rodri muttered, Jaina looking quite pleased with herself.

“Do you want to start down that road Jaina? Because I will gladly race you, and end in a particular barn - ”

“Oh it’s getting late! We’d best start the Descending, get things wrapped up so you can rest!”

Fabron was to lead the Conclave’s opening service, as the most recently ordained of their number, but he was busy watching Henrik silently try to convince Valerik of something, looking more than a little dubious about whatever that conversation was about. Likely something about not needing Henrik’s help; Seras would be dubious of those claims too, Valerik looked like eight mel of bad road and without someone holding him up he’d undoubtedly keel over sometime soon. Fabron quickly straightened at their attention, though, hesitating over something until Henrik gave him a nudge.

Fabron’s return nudge was far more of an elbow to the ribs, but he finally spoke, suggesting, “I thought, perhaps, a silent one?”

Tristan looked truly delighted, which was Colbern’s decision made, and Seras could only faintly remember the last time he’d seen a service conducted solely in Ari’s Tongue – it had easily been years. Maltin was holding one of his nicer flutes, evidently having been asked to accompany Fabron on this endeavor, though by the way he was eyeing the fires filling the room he might try to demur participating. No one seemed to have any objections – this was by far the best audience for that sort of service, seeing as every ordained Firestarter had basic competency with their founder’s tongue, and Etrius could use the additional practice. Rodri even looked curious, and more than a little determined, so he evidently wanted to test his knowledge of the language.

But the one Fabron was actually watching was the Eldest, and the man looked thrilled, while his Enforcer looked intrigued.

“That sounds wonderful,” their Incendiary said, glancing down at his mug before passing it to his Enforcer and starting to echo his spoken words with his hands, “I have never properly seen one, to be honest. Not outside of lessons – well, and that one dawn service Verius was hungover and insisted he was just coming down with a cold.”

Jaina snorted, evidently remembering the same event, but she looked more than a little sad as she did. Little wonder. She had discussed calling their Order’s Eldest back from the borderlands he’d called home multiple times over her tenure as Incendiary, and while Seras had never heard her properly come to her conclusion, what that conclusion was had been self-evident. The way their Eldest was still in some ways a total stranger to them all, to their practices, was one of the results of it. That did not mean the conclusion she had come to all those times was wrong, however, and it was not worth mourning. Before he could try and say something to her, Honored Kari raised his head from his paws and evidently told her something privately, by the flickers of expression across her face. Whatever he had said served its purpose, and brought her some ease, to Seras’ eyes.

Honored Kari’s presence could be credited with the vast majority of their Order’s well-being this year, though the Eldest and his Enforcer were, of course, due their own credit.

Fabron grinned, before giving Maltin a credible imitation of a child’s pleading look, their Order’s musician in training trying to scowl but not quite managing it when he finally nodded. Clapping his hands cheerfully, Fabron claimed his spot in front of the Incendiary’s seat as they formed a neat set of rows – and sure enough, Valerik was heavily leaning against Henrik. The Eldest was a little more subtle, but was definitely resting some of his weight against his Enforcer.

Another benefit of the silent services – they were much easier to bring to a close quickly without feeling as if some component was missing.

Etrius was far from the only clever one in their Order.

“I don’t see what’s so terrifying about Auntie Ki!”

“What, no objections to your mother?”

“Ignore your uncle, boys, he’s quite terrified of your mother.”

“I can be plenty terrifying!”

Chapter Text

Kir had forgotten so many things about their Order over the years. There were so many things he had never had the chance to actually learn, outside of the occasional mention, a throwaway reference or two. If there was one thing he could have changed about his years with the 62nd – perhaps he could have written to Jaina more frequently, once Phyrrus was dead and she was Incendiary. Communicated with her outside of official documentation and that short flurry of letters prompted by Bron’s death.

He would never have returned to Sunhame, that was something he’d have never borne, but he could have written her.

She would have mentioned the witch-children she’d burned. It had come up even in the short exchange they’d managed after Bron had died. She had even been grieved, that the girl in question had been consumed by darkness so very young, that her skin had been stolen from her with no one noticing until all that could be done was destroying the evil that had killed her. Kir had barely managed to write back something appropriately sympathetic before running for the borderlands to hunt down Furies and remember that there was wickedness worthy of flames, that there was a reason for his Order to exist. For him to exist.

He had never even tried to convince anyone of the wrongful definition of witch used by the previous regime.

Maltin was a truly skilled flautist, and he and Fabron had either deliberately practiced this together or they worked together often enough to read one another skillfully. The way Fabron’s prayers – heartfelt motions, entire being working to speak as their Founder had needed too – wove Maltin’s flute into things, made the song truly part of the service, rather than an accompaniment –

It was beautiful.

He might not be able to mindspeak translations to Anur right now, but he could still feel his brother’s  mind, and knew his own joy in what he was seeing was echoed. Words were never the be all and end all of speech, as powerful as they could be; their own mental connection was proof enough of that. The way Fabron and Maltin were working together so well, the way he could exchange a look and know exactly what Jaina was thinking some days, the times he had seen Laskaris and Lumira move into one another’s space and never once collide, be it in their limbs or in their spells –

Fabron had chosen well.

And had a sense of humor, by that conclusion. Anur even recognized those signs; gratitude followed by a plea for alcohol were definitely signals the 62nd would have ensured the Herald truly knew.

“No booze,” Valerik groaned into Henrik’s shoulder, “I’m never drinking again. Besides tonight’s toast.”

By Henrik’s rolled eyes, he had heard his mentor say that before. By the laughter from the rest of the Firestarters, they had heard much the same.

“I give you a moon,” Jaina said dryly, “And that’s keeping in mind the fact the healers said you were on restricted magic usage for two weeks. Henrik, sit him down before he knocks you over.”

Kir winced, accepting his mug of tea back from Anur and letting his brother urge him forward to do the same, prompting, “Restricted magic usage?”

“No magic for one, nothing more strenuous than a mage light for two,” Valerik summarized, murmuring thanks to his once-student before Henrik slipped away to join the others assembling insulated baskets holding the foodstuffs sent over from the main kitchens at the end of this particular table. Kir didn’t really understand why they needed two tables – to make the false corridor, fine, but also having enough chairs for both? It seemed a little absurd.

Kir set his mug down and used Anur’s arm to brace himself as he sat, Valerik squinting at him from a seat or two down before apparently giving that up and slumping forward, resting his head on his arms, saying, “I don’t know what sort of spellcraft he had on that fucking bracelet, but it was strong. Pretty sure the only reason I had a shot at fighting that geas off was Nolans moving me and those anti-coercion trainings Lumira and Laskaris arrange. So thanks for those, if I haven’t said thanks for those already.”

“You have,” Lumira said, claiming the seat across from him with Fabron and Laskaris on either side, small glasses of prodka in hand, “We were planning to put together another one this year, though with Ancar, timing might be difficult.”

“It’s important though,” Kir grimaced, trying to remember all the things that needed to be scheduled in this spring.

Anur swatted his shoulder and said sternly, “You said no starting on business tonight, Kir. Stop. Descending, opening declarations, shared meal, sleep. That’s it.”

Turning to the rest of the Firestarters, Anur repeated, “That’s it. For the record.”

“I second the motion, for what it’s worth,” Valerik muttered to the table, pointedly ignoring Henrik sitting next to him with two small glasses of prodka in hand. Rodri slid into the empty seat next to Kir with two glasses as well, pushing the fuller one towards him with a deeply worried look.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Rodri asked quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Kir promised, accepting the glass and setting it next to his sadly lukewarm tea, “It’ll just take some time. The flames have already almost run their course, for one.”

“Good,” Anur said, accepting a glass from Colbern with a murmur of thanks and eyeing the now scarce licks of fire, no longer lasting much longer than a flicker into existence and back out again, even outside Jaina’s exclusion ward. “I was not looking forward to sleeping on the ground with your back this bad.”

“Neither was I,” Kir agreed, glancing down the table in time to see Jaina slide into her own seat, settling Kari next to her. She met his eyes and nodded, smiling through her clearly visible worry.

The few scattered conversations that had started up faded, his Firestarters focusing on him.

It was far removed from the scene that had greeted them in Sunhame last winter, flaming chair legs and despair and all. It was hard to believe it had only been a year since then.

“The only Conclave I’ve ever attended opened with mourning,” Kir finally said, “With rememberances of the Firestarters who had died that year. I am immensely grateful, incredibly relieved, that this one is not opening with the same.

“When we arrived in Sunhame last winter, we sat on a hill outside the city for nearly a mark, simply because the idea of actually entering this city, of taking up my presumed duties as Incendiary, terrified me. I was terrified of rejoining the Order as an active member, rather than someone who wrote in the occasional report and otherwise was allowed to ignore the Order I had sworn to.

“Without every single one of you, this would not have worked,” Kir said, careful to meet every Firestarter’s gaze, “If I did not have the honor and privilege of being your Incendiary – your Incendiary, then our rebuilding would have been lesser. Would be lesser. We lost our own assurance, that what we were doing was necessary, was just. That whatever fear or hatred we faced from our fellows, from the laity, was undeserved.

“Well. For the most part,” Kir allowed, “Everyone has their own grudges.”

Continuing, he said, “But waking up every morning in the face of that, walking this District, venturing out into our nation, after losing that – it is so very brave. It is hard. It is awful. But it is something every single one of you has done, regardless. I have no right to this feeling, because none of it has anything to do with me, but I am proud, nonetheless. I am honored. And all I can offer you is gratitude, for allowing me the privilege of serving as Incendiary. For your patience, your understanding, and your support.”

Raising his glass, he said quietly, “May the coming year see our flames burn evil away, cleanse the innocent, and push back the darkness.”

"In Ari’s name,” the Firestarters chorused, before everyone knocked their prodka back with varying levels of competency. Rodri was not the only one who gagged and reached for a pitcher of cider. The toast really was an excellent way to break up the solemnity.

“There is no possible way you can taste a difference between your flask prodka and the office prodka,” Anur grumbled, snagging Kir’s mug of tea and taking a swig.

“Well, this clearly calls for a blind taste test sometime this season, because I definitely can.”

=pagebreak=

Scrubbing at his face, Caleb sighed heavily. Someone coughed at his door. Looking up, he recognized his evening Shift Lead and sincerely hoped that the man wasn’t here to quietly confess he too had been pressured by Darius Vars and others into looking the other way while crimes were committed and blamed on the wrong people. Whoever had finally gotten Sunhame to officially strike those horrifically heavy handed penalties for relatively minor crimes from the books last spring was owed a drink or ten, because the sheer number of times those penalties had been held over people’s heads in the past years was disgusting. Men sent to the banditry branch of the Sunsguard in lieu of hard labor for middling crimes was relatively common, he could say that with the confidence of a once-banditry officer, but the archaic lose a hand for any form of theft, no matter how minor?

People had been threatened with that. He had yet to find a case of it actually happening, thank the One God, but so many had been coerced into agreeing to so-called deals because that sort of penalty had been hanging over their heads, which was almost as bad!

At least Bretta and Holiness Jaina’s presence had given him an idea for their near inevitable short-handedness. Pulling officer’s wives or sisters in to assist with questioning on certain types of crime was common practice, and they were compensated for their time. He would undoubtedly be needing that sort of assistance as well, but he had also drafted out contracts for temporary scribing. A sworn guardsman would need to be involved in the process, but as many duplicates as needed to be made? This would let him split his forces far more effectively, and they could always pause testimony gathering for a mark or two if his men were direly needed elsewhere.

They were currently ruled by a woman. Surely he could recruit some to assist the city guard on a more regular basis?

“Captain,” the man in his doorway said, Caleb blinking and forcing himself to focus on Senior Lieutenant Arron, “You planning on leaving tonight sir? That was a hint, for the record.”

“Yes thank you Senior Lieutenant, I caught that,” he replied, staring at his papers and resigning himself to the fact that there truly was no good stopping point. If he kept looking for one he’d never leave, and he truly did need to sleep. His shift had been over marks ago. Right after that Shift Lead meeting.

He had sworn he would light some incense tonight, and he’d already long missed Descending. Even if he had consciously registered the warning bells, he wouldn’t have attended, eyeball deep in reports as he had been. As he still was. Between that and the thought of showing up to a service in a Sunsguard uniform tonight of all nights? No, he wouldn’t have left.

Now he would though. And he’d stop by the small temple close to his boardinghouse and light that promised incense. He had quite a few prayers to offer.

Papers stacked, weighed down with whatever he could find. Coat, scarf, gloves, Holiness Jaina’s poultice. Where had he put his hat?

It was definitely under one of these piles of paper. The walk wasn’t that long, and it wasn’t that cold.

Pausing, forcing himself to, he exhaled slowly, and reached into his pocket for the Sun-blessed arrowhead. Then he ran that thought through again. It was snowing, and windy. The walk wasn’t particularly long, but with the way the streets were likely icing over? It could take him a half mark, longer, if he was delayed en route for any reason. That was long enough to get frostnip. He wasn’t leaving without his hat.

He had to hope Honored Kari’s aid actually helped. That the mental shielding Holiness Dinesh was going to arrange for him to learn would actually prevent this from ever happening to him again. Could perhaps let him trust his own mind again. Living like this was exhausting.

Right. Hat found, papers carefully replaced. Coat, scarf, gloves, arrowhead, poultice. No hobbles. Key to his apartment and his office. Anything else he forgot he could live without until tomorrow.

Stepping out of his office, he locked it behind him, and was grateful he’d followed proper procedure and had the locks replaced following his stationing here. Odds were better than even that there had been spare keys floating around somewhere, with as messy as this case had been, and even now he might need to get his office’s locks replaced again, or at least replace the locks on some of his desk drawers.

Hmm. Master Nico was a locksmith, and a registered one, if only recently finished his certification, and as the man had been the one to bring Vars to his attention in the first place – yes. Hiring him for something like that would at least not be a terrible idea. He’d think on it.

Exchanging nods with the few officers dealing with their own piles of paperwork, he headed down the stairs. He could duck out the back door instead of passing through the corridor and the main assembly room, where he didn’t doubt testimony regarding the Oathbreaker and Vars was still being gathered, though the line was no longer an issue. He had sworn to keep staffing up the next few days until everyone had a chance to be heard, but he didn’t want people freezing overnight trying to ensure their stories were told.

First he had assigned some of his men to walking the entire queue and asking if the person knew of someone still under immediate threat. Only two people said yes all day, and they had been brought to the front and men dispatched to arrest the party responsible for said threat in one case, and Caleb had pulled the matron reporting the second case into an office to quietly inform her that her son had been the last of Vars’ victims. Former Patrolman Larschen’s body had been collected and sent on to the proper temple for funerary services, and at least his mother could take whatever comfort she could in the fact that his murderer was caught.

He could duck out and avoid any potential delays. Any potential tears.

That wasn’t Nacht’s scars talking. That was cowardice.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to walk down that corridor towards the front entrance to the Sector Station. A few bunk rooms were occupied, doors cracked open so the men crashing on their breaks could hear any urgent summons, and one office was occupied with men set to compiling and organizing and cross referencing reports before presenting a final case index to whoever was lead on the overall effort, rather than just the specific cases.

Considering how much of an overarching mess this was? That index was definitely going to be coming to him.

“ – maybe if we pray really hard a report will just miraculously appear?” he heard, and paused mid-step, because that was… well. Rather irreverent, for one, but he could understand that. Why exactly a report would need to be miraculously generated instead of requested by mundane means was a different issue, and considering the context of today, a more worrying one.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” another man said dubiously, Caleb resisting the urge to sigh and turning his steps towards the report-compilation office. Perhaps it was a joke. But he needed to check.

“Well we don’t know, right, that’s what makes it a miracle? Or something like that.”

Caleb winced and was momentarily deeply grateful that Sector Stations didn’t have assigned chaplains. The chaplains he’d had at the 83rd had never been awful, not like some he’d heard of, but overhearing that sort of statement would have resulted in a series of very pointed and interminably long sermons. Though to be fair, now that he had witnessed a miracle, had met a Firecat, he was rather tempted to pull out some Writ and Word quotes himself, and he honestly only had a few of the most commonly cited ones memorized.

He probably had them memorized wrong, for that matter.

“There isn’t really any other way to get an arrest report for the Oathbreaker,” a third voice admitted, “And he’s referenced enough in here we need something to indicate his arrest. Was he even arrested?”

“The Voice of Vkandis Sunlord arrested him.”

“Right but can the Voice arrest people or is that just – was he not arrested until he was handed over to the Justicar?”

Rapping on the half-open door, he stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow at the scrambling to their feet men, returning the hastily snapped off salutes and saying, “At ease, men. The Oathbreaker was declared Nameless and Forsaken by the Voice, and stripped of his Talents. When the Voice was no longer manifest, Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy was able to take the Oathbreaker into custody himself, and under his own authority. The Justicar will presumably be coordinating with the Firestarting Order for reports on this overall plot, but I will write up a witnessed-arrest report for our own records on the Oathbreaker. I will get you that reference number tomorrow. Any questions?”

All four men exchanged glances – two Corporals, two Patrolmen, familiar with one another or tired enough they no longer cared, judging by the lack of any rank addresses in that conversation he’d overheard. Finally one Corporal coughed and actually spoke, saying, “Ah, you witnessed the arrest, sir? The Voice manifestation?”

“The arrest in its entirety. Part of the Voice manifestation. My understanding is that the Voice manifested when Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy started his pursuit, and lasted until the arrest occurred,” he summarized, adding, “Captain Nachten of the Outer Seventh was also there.”

“What was it like? Sir,” one of the Patrolmen blurted, wincing almost the moment he finished asking, but not taking the question back.

Caleb watched the man quietly, before turning to the others, finding that each of them had that same hopeful-awestruck-curious expression on their faces. If he told these four, he would likely not have to make some mass announcement anytime soon, but the rumors might go insane. If he didn’t answer, the rumors would definitely be insane. Best to answer then, and write that report tomorrow. Whoever was interested in facts could view the report after that, he’d make sure it was listed as available for anyone who asked.

“Terrifying,” he admitted finally, focusing on the man who’d actually asked, “Awe inspiring. It was – impossible to mistake for anything other than what it was. It didn’t matter what shell the Voice was speaking through, the Voice was the Voice. Their eyes were gold, properly gold, practically glowing with it, and the literal voice, the way They sounded – it wasn’t human. No human throat could speak that way, it wasn’t – the words were too clear. The air rang with them. You could feel it. You could feel when They were gone, when Their mouthpiece was just themselves again.”

Though it had been oddly debatable, with Bellamy’s eyes still flecked with gold until that disconcerting moment where he had so very clearly been listening to someone elsewhere, but that weighty presence, the presence that had driven him to his knees in the first place – that had faded. That had been gone, regardless of the traces the Voice had left behind for a time longer.

“Does that address your concerns, gentlemen?” he asked dryly.

“Yes Captain!” they chorused, saluting again and looking truly awestruck at what he had described. Returning the salute, he paused mid-turn when he realized just why one of the Corporal’s presence had been bothering him.

Turning back, he said flatly, “Corporal Mikel Ashler.”

“Ah. Yes, Captain?” the man asked, pausing in the middle of grabbing another stack of papers. He looked disgustingly awake for a man Caleb knew very well had been on duty since dawn this morning and been one of the ones sent out to the charity temple for what had reportedly been very labor intensive work, besides being purely stressful. Someone had broken into a chava stash, the lucky bastards.

“Your shift ended four marks ago,” he said, “I sympathize with the desire to stay involved, but not when the inevitable result is details slipping through the cracks due to tiredness. I got kicked out of my office, I’m passing it along to you. Out. That goes for all of you, two marks past shift-end at most, and if I have to waste one of my officer’s time actively enforcing that I will be displeased. Understood?”

“Yes Captain!”

At least they were enthusiastic, Caleb reminded himself, properly leaving the room and unsurprised to see men hastily ducking out of the hallway where they’d been eavesdropping. Shaking his head, he raised his voice slightly and said, “Two marks past shift end!”

The half-muffled chorus of ‘yes Captain’ would have to do. He’d stop by the Shift Sergeant’s desk and pass along that order, and ensure everyone heard it tomorrow. Working past the end of your shift for a case was understandable, everyone did it, but this mess of cases would be in the works for moons, that sort of effort wasn’t sustainable.

Message passed on, final salutes exchanged, and he was finally out the door in the not-quite driving snow. His walk home took him by a few of the nicer alehouses in the sector, which was not entirely unintentional for all he no longer drank, and by the music and chatter he could hear even with every door and window snugly shut, they were doing quite a roaring business tonight. People here had a lot to celebrate and plenty to gossip about.

The 83rd hadn’t been as isolated as some banditry units, but it had still been removed from town, from the people they were protecting. The satisfaction he received from being able to regularly see the impact of his work was not inconsiderable.

He’d have to write to his once-Captain after he’d heard from Honored Kari and Holiness Dinesh. The man had pulled a lot of strings to get him transferred from banditry to city guard, he at least owed him an update on the situation that had necessitated that transfer. Writing to someone who would appreciate the sheer absurdity of encountering Holiness Dinesh and Enforcer Bellamy acting as civilians bailing out a supposed-civilian who Holiness Dinesh called brother would also be nice.

Mentally crafting that letter in such a way the joke would be conveyed and he would never once explicitly write ‘this Val I keep mentioning is actually Holiness Valerik, Second Order Firestarter’ kept him busy until he reached the temple near his boardinghouse. It was a smaller one, one of the oldest in Sunhame. It had been rebuilt over the centuries, of course, but supposedly the grounds here had held a temple to the Sunlord in one form or another for millennia.

He’d attended services in a few somewhat convenient temples when he’d arrived, trying to determine which one had a priest he could tolerate. None had been particularly awful, in his inexpert estimation, but the first service he’d attended here had coincidentally been when Holiness Cyril brought up the Firestarting Order – and not to condemn them. Not any more than any of the rest of the priesthood, at least. With his own turmoil over what Her Eminence’s Ascent had seemingly meant for what he himself had suffered, when he knew for a fact the only reason he was alive was because a Firestarter had executed a witch now called Talented…

It had been something to hold to. It had been enough.

Stepping inside after scraping his boots, he felt his shoulders ease at the quiet, at the lack of wind, at the warmth. Hardly anyone was here; Holiness Cyril was speaking with an unfamiliar man, a box set on the pew near them, but other than their low tones the only thing he could hear was the crackling of fire, was the wind.

Offering a deep bow to the Eternal Flame and the metal-and-wood Sun in Glory behind it, Caleb walked up to the incense, dropping coins in the box and gathering one of the nicer blends. It was the least he could do.

He breathed, before he lit the stick of incense. There was so very much for him to be thankful for today. Finally feeling that he had settled his thoughts, that he was focused on his prayers, and none of the rest, he murmured his preferred mantra and lit the incense, sticking the smoldering stick into the sand of the ceramic bowls flanking the altar. He could end here.

Instead, he felt his gaze catch on the Sun-in-Glory, on the way the Eternal Flame reflected and gleamed off the inlaid metal, and found himself going to one knee. The incense was a paltry thing, in face of what he had been permitted the privilege of witnessing today, of carrying out today, of hearing today. Holiness Dinesh’s promise of aid, Enforcer Bellamy’s confirmation that what had been done to him was wrong, regardless of source, two Firecats, the Voice, the cheers of the people of the Outer Eighth when Vars was hauled off, truly hauled off and arrested and chained, the chiming from somewhere in his soul –

His cheek stung. He was weeping.

“May your mind and soul have been healed in Sunheart, Ensign Nacht,” he murmured for the first time, letting himself remember the apparently multi-talented junior officer the man had been instead of the grief-stricken madman he had died as, bowing his head once more before rising to his feet. Stepping back, he pulled a kerchief from his sleeve as he went. Hopefully he hadn’t started bleeding on top of the tears.

“Captain,” he heard, looking up from refolding his kerchief – blood free, fortunately – and nodding at Holiness Cyril, the older man looking distinctly concerned.

“Your Holiness,” he murmured.

“I hear we have you to thank for bringing Darius Vars in?” the priest said, expression tightening at the name, or perhaps at what he had to say next, “I must unfortunately admit that my own abilities to inform the Sunsguard of issues for investigation were compromised, over the past years.”

“The Sunsguard was more compromised,” Marghi snorted, shaking his head, “Your Holiness, the sheer volume of reports I’m finding where it is very clear that the investigation was worse than cursory, I doubt you would have been heard. If you had attempted too often, you would have been killed. Mitigation is sometimes all one can do, wretched as it is. We’re cleaning house now, and I would appreciate anything you and your brethren can do to aid in that effort.”

“You will have it,” the priest promised, offering his hands. Caleb laid his on top of the man’s, knowing this gesture, old-fashioned though it was. It suited Father Cyril; he was one of the senior most priests in this Sector, after all.

“I realize you are in need of rest,” the priest continued, smiling wryly at Caleb’s heavy sigh, because he could guess where this was going, and the older man continued, “It is an introduction, merely, I swear to you.”

“I will hold you to that, Father,” he said, following him to the man he’d been speaking with when Caleb had entered, box still on the pew nearby.

“Captain Caleb Marghi, this is Garth Nolans, a former member of the Sunsguard of the Outer Eighth,” Holiness Cyril said, and Caleb barely managed not laughing. Of course he would meet this man tonight – how could the day properly end without it?

“Master Nolans,” he said politely, offering a hand, “I’ve heard your name quite a few times today. I sent in paperwork to Fourth Court earlier demanding that your wrongfully denied appeal be fast tracked. I suspect you already received similar promises from the Justicars of Fourth Court themselves, but I believe documentation can hardly hurt. My sincere apologies for the delay; you were wronged.”

The man had frozen in the middle of reaching to clasp his arm, looking stunned beyond measure.

“I – thank you. Captain,” he managed to choke out, properly clasping Caleb’s arm at last, “I have received those promises from the Justicars of Fourth Court, but as you say, documentation can hardly hurt. That is – what I came here for, actually.”

He indicated the box, and at Caleb’s politely puzzled expression the man ducked his head and admitted, “Might have – liberated some reports, hid them away, before they could be edited too much, Captain. Told the Justicar I’d gather what documentation I’ve pulled together over the years.”

“I’ll have to request some form of tally from him,” Caleb said, grimacing, “I am currently buried in reports I’m trying to sort into reopening the case versus this was actually managed properly, and I would hate to miss any. Multiple sources to cross reference would be useful.”

“Likely so, sir,” the once-soldier said politely, gathering his box and giving Father Cyril a deep bow before dismissing himself out a side door.

“Hmm. Introduction merely, was it?” he asked the priest dryly, the man spreading his hands and momentarily affecting an innocent look that would be far more effective if he wasn’t wearing priests’ robes.

“I was unaware you knew his name at all,” the priest admitted, and that Caleb was willing to believe, “And it seemed advantageous to ensure you were introduced to someone who would be contributing significantly to getting Vars held accountable for the entirety of his crimes, now that you have arrested him.”

“I understand,” Caleb allowed, “Will you be giving your own testimony directly to Fourth Court?”

“As is procedure, yes,” the priest agreed, walking with him to the door.

“Whatever it is that weighs on you, Captain, I hope you find the aid you need,” Holiness Cyril said, opening the door for him.

Hunching into his coat at the sight of the snow, his hands slid into his pockets, and he felt the sun-blessed arrowhead dig into his palm through his gloves.

“Thank you, Your Holiness. I do believe I have. Blessed Midwinter.”

“Blessed Midwinter, Captain.”

=pagebreak=

Etrius stared at the ceiling of his room and tried to keep his breathing even.

It was a little early for him to be trying to sleep, he usually was working until First Night, not already in bed when those bells rang; usually he didn’t actually try to sleep till Second at the earliest, but the Enforcer had rightly put a pause on any attempt to start new business tonight and instead the shared meal had broken into small clusters for story exchanges. Most of the Conclave seemed to boil down to that, though this year the Charter rewrite would be occupying a large swath of time. When the Eldest was less exhausted, Etrius knew he was far from the only one who planned to take full advantage of that story-exchange custom to get some questions answered.

Even better – the Eldest had been out of Sunhame for nearly fifteen years, and never actually attended a full Conclave, if Etrius was understanding things right. So he and Maltin and Rodri would have plenty of back up getting all the others’ old stories retold so they could hear them too.

But today?

Holiness Colbern was genuinely terrible with all but a small subset of people. Practically as soon as the man tried to be emotionally available and supportive, everything went horribly wrong. It was a little depressing to watch from the outside, but knowing that his mentor’s best friend meant well didn’t prevent Etrius from wanting to scream at him when Colbern greeted him with utterly genuine sounding congratulations on his first politically motivated murder attempt.

In what universe is that possibly what you tell someone? What you tell a student? The saving grace was that Rodri had been out of earshot, having bolted straight for Holiness Jaina to ask for official confirmation that his mentor was actually all right.

Sunlord, Tristan made so much sense, some days.

This was useless, he wasn’t going to fall asleep like this.

Rolling out of bed, he pulled on an extra pair of socks and wrapped the top blanket from his minor hoard around his shoulders. If he wasn’t going to fall asleep yet, he could at least do his equivalent of rounds and check on Maltin and Rodri. Both had left before he had, what with their mentors departing. Holiness Valerik had gotten hauled off by Henrik and Kavrick practically the moment they finished eating, Maltin in tow, and the Eldest had needed the Enforcer and Rodri’s aid to stand. Fortunately, while his spontaneous fires had still been present, they had calmed sufficiently for Kari to reapply his suppression field.

Etrius shuddered, never more grateful for having a Journeyman level mage-Talent and nothing else, before cracking the door open and listening for any steps or voices. Nothing from the hallway. The Hall was so quiet compared to the dorms – compared to anywhere he’d ever lived, honestly. It had taken getting used to.

Padding across the hall, he knocked lightly on Rodri’s door. If the younger student was already asleep, he wouldn’t wake at that light a tap. Not like Maltin, even after a year of living here he jolted awake at the slightest change of circumstance – Etrius rather doubted the habit would break anytime soon. Besides, it wasn’t the worst habit to have. A good safety precaution, if not one he was capable of himself.

“Door’s open!”

Seems he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

Opening the door, Etrius could feel his eyebrows rising, but he stepped in and shut the door behind him before he said anything.

“Didn’t get enough of pistachios earlier today?” he asked.

“You’re one of the primary contributors to this pistachio stash, don’t even start,” Rodri scoffed, Maltin ducking his head with a smile and tying off another small bag of shelled pistachios. By the stack of small bags on the ground between them and the literal bucket of shells, they’d been at this for a while.

“I’m really not,” Etrius said, sitting down on the rug Rodri and he had dragged out of one of the Hall’s storage rooms, “Pistachios are expensive.”

“Which is why they are serving as my Midwinter gifts for approximately the next forever years,” Rodri replied, flicking a shell at him. It got caught in his blanket, “And maybe you didn’t deliver all of these, but you definitely suggested this as a training mechanism.”

“I was joking!” Etrius groaned, “I didn’t think anyone would actually think training you to sense flammability by hiding flammable objects would be a good plan!”

“Have you met our seniors?” Maltin scoffed, grabbing a handful of unshelled pistachios from the still more than half-full basket and starting to crack the hulls off.

“All worked out in the end,” Rodri said philosophically, tossing a few pistachios into his mouth before continuing to shell the seeds in his own pile, “I have developed a minor addiction to pistachios, gotten good enough at sensing flammable things without accidentally lighting said flammable things on fire to have not accidentally killed us all earlier today, and Holiness Colbern agreed to owe me a favor in exchange for those pistachios he wanted last week.”

“I figured out why he wanted those, by the way,” Maltin said, “Regional treat, from down by the fatlands. Some sort of honey pastry with pistachios in it. Hard to find outside of that part of the country. He somehow got one made in exchange for the extra pistachios, asked Henrik to give the resulting pastry to Tristan.”

Rodri hummed, but didn’t say anything besides, “Thanks for finding out, Maltin.”

They sat in silence for a while, shelling pistachios.

“Can you hear my arrowhead, Maltin?” Rodri asked abruptly, and Maltin flinched – likely at both the sudden sound and the question itself.

“Not. Not like the Sun in Glory or those golden flames,” Maltin said, shuddering and ducking his head, “I might. If I listened harder. But I don’t want to.”

“Probably best not to try anything without safety measures in place, I was just curious, sorry,” Rodri said, brow furrowing.

“Random thought or for a purpose?” Etrius prompted, flicking his pistachio shells into the bucket.

“If you miss with any of those you’re sweeping them up,” Rodri warned, before hesitating a moment and answering Etrius’ question, “Thinking on what you asked, Etrius. About what happened to the old Sun-blessed steel. I was wondering – do we even know what Sun-blessed steel we actually had? Or was it just – referred to as steel? In the songs I remember it was just referred to as steel, no one mentioned if it was… arrowheads or spearheads or swords or anything. Because if Maltin has the same Talent as Vanya Flamesinger did, Flamesinger might have needed more than one piece for his trick to work, since Maltin can’t hear my arrowhead by itself, but – “

“Wait, wait,” Etrius interrupted, staring at them incredulously, “The same Talent?”

“I have one,” Maltin admitted, voice small and gaze locked on his pistachios, “I figured it out. Since Rodri and the Eldest can hear the song, because of their Talent, and no one else can, I – I have to have one. Father Kavrick says the Eldest thinks so too, that there’s some sort of music based heart-twisting.”

“Heart-reading,” Rodri corrected, prying a particularly stubborn shell off with a knife. His tone was impressively mild, and if Etrius couldn’t see the way the youngest of them was practically boring holes into the side of his skull with his stare, he’d have never guessed.

Etrius shot Rodri an exasperated look, because he couldn’t truly think Etrius was going to run screaming because Maltin had some version of literally the most horrifying Talent Etrius could imagine. Maltin was far too kind to become a nightmare creature unless things went direly wrong indeed, and if Etrius wasn’t able to prevent that then he deserved whatever came for him.

Focusing on Maltin again, he said, “That’s a scary thing to find out. Are you going to be all right?”

“I think so,” Maltin’s smile was distinctly watery, but it was at least there, “I – Father Kavrick has no idea what we’re going to do to train it, if the Eldest doesn’t know anything.”

“I mean, the Valdemarans have to know something, and some of the priests go there, right? There was that Markov person that came back to Sunhame with Enforcer Anur and Father Kir, the one Colbern wants to use to send Demon-riders alcohol,” Rodri suggested, “We could ask if they know anything? And. Um. Hope their advice is good?”

“Let’s hope the Enforcer or the Eldest have sources they can talk to,” Etrius said, brow furrowing, “I can’t – I don’t understand. How Valdemar fits into things yet. It’s not consistent. They’re demon-infested, but we’re letting people back and asking for advice? And sending them alcohol, but to be honest, Colbern suggesting that isn’t really a surprise.”

“You can live in tainted lands and not be tainted yourself,” Maltin pointed out, “Or get involved with demons through no fault or intentional evil of your own. I would think welcoming people back would be better than forcing them to stay. They can get help here.”

“But can they?” Etrius retorted, shaking his head, “Not for demonic influence, we have exorcists and soul-healers, but I mean with Talents. What do we actually have in place for that? Absolutely nothing.”

“Holiness Lumira’s suggested mental shielding lessons be added to the curriculum for children, part of writ and word,” Rodri said, “Father Kir seems to like the idea a lot, though logistics will take a while.”

“Where are we going to find the first instructors? And what about things that aren’t just shielding? Shielding your mind is good, is fantastic, honestly, but how can Maltin use this musical heart-reading safely? Can he use it safely? Can you even play music without using it? What does it exactly do?”

“Etrius, we literally know none of that,” Rodri cut him off, Etrius exhaling shakily and recognizing that he was about to go on a rant that wouldn’t be productive. That would only frighten Maltin further.

“I know,” he admitted, offering Maltin a smile, “Sorry, Maltin, I just – have so many questions and so few answers, it feels like.”

“That isn’t just your state of being?” Maltin managed to tease, so Etrius knew he was forgiven.

That didn’t mean he’d let that go uncommented upon, so he promptly flung pistachio shells at Maltin’s face.

“Do we know anyone who knows Ari’s Tongue?”

“Besides the Sunsguard signals adapted from it? Can’t think of anyone.”

“I know it.”

“Wait, really, Nana?”

“Your great-grandfather was mostly deaf by the time Ivan was apprenticed, it was suggested. Haven’t used it in a long while, but I can remember some basics.”

“But more importantly, can you remember how to curse?”

“Please, Lukas, I was a Captain.”

Chapter Text

Kir woke up, half in tears and unsure why.

“Kir?” Anur muttered, hand gently settling on his back when Kir gasped into his brother’s shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea,” Kir replied, “I don’t –  I have no idea.”

“Yesterday was a lot,” Anur grumbled, shifting a bit and pulling their blankets higher over their shoulders, curling his hand around the back of Kir’s neck, “I’m probably going to have a breakdown when we finally get back to the 62nd.”

Kir snorted, “Fair enough. Maybe wait a week before dealing with the whole anti-exorcism training business.”

“Ugh, yes, we need a break, and let me tell you what I already know about the next few days.”

“Definitely not a break,” Kir agreed, “Give me cleaning mud out of the chapel and repairing chainmail and drying herbs any day.”

“Weapons drills,” Anur said wistfully, “Shoveling paths in the snow. Cleaning tack. Mending uniforms.”

“I cannot wait to go home,” Kir breathed, finally letting himself call the 62nd for what it was, truly. He knew that someday, and that day was drawing ever closer, he would have to leave the 62nd. He would be gone too long, absent long enough he’d miss an entire set of recruits and transfers, and then it – it would be foolish. To cling to that posting. To what he’d defined himself around the past fifteen years. Half of his life, this autumn.

It was not now. He would pray it was years down the line. He did not quite dare pray for never.

There was only so much selfishness he could allow himself, any longer.

“Easy,” Anur murmured, “Don’t know what you just thought about, but it hurt. What’s wrong?”

“I was so selfish these past years,” Kir finally admitted, shuddering, “I told myself – convinced myself that – that no one would listen, that to try and tell the others what I knew of the Talented would do no good, but I didn’t even try, Anur. I never even tried and I could have – they might have listened! I could have saved so many people, if they’d even once doubted thanks to my questions, to my letters. I could have tried and I didn’t even think to. I didn’t let myself think to.”

“No, hey, Kir, no,” Anur breathed, swearing under his breath before continuing lowly, “Kir, that’s not – you could have tried, true. You would have died. No – no, stop, listen to me. I heard Jaina, when we confessed to having a Talent. She would have killed you, and felt righteous doing it. She genuinely believed that Talents were a sign of a demonic-level evil possessing you, she would have burned you and felt righteous about it, been furious at the evil that dared to harm you. She was the one most attached to you, the one you would have reached out to, to try and convince, and she would have tried to burn you. Kir, if she had tried – I think you would have let her.”

That was easy enough to answer.

“I would have,” Kir admitted, “Before you, I would have.”

“Keeping yourself alive, keeping yourself sane, is not selfish,” Anur said fiercely, “Taking care of yourself is not selfish, Kir. Perhaps some people use taking care of themselves as an excuse for selfish behavior, but let me tell you right now what you would never be capable of doing – turning away from someone in need. No, hey, I’m not done,” he said, talking right over Kir’s attempt to protest, “I didn’t say the help you would offer would necessarily be the best. But you would offer it. You would try, and you would never think of turning away. Metaphorically. Since sometimes that help was you turning the other way.”

“Yes, thank you Anur, I got that,” Kir retorted, breathing shaky as he let himself truly process what Anur had said. What his brother insisted was true.

“Aelius and Kari agree with me, for the record,” Anur muttered.

“Could have guessed,” Kir replied, deciding to change the topic. He took a few moments to try and judge his headache – it didn’t seem as bad as the Comb fire aftermath, he might be able to read today without wanting to stab his eyes out. Finally, he murmured, “Try mindspeech?”

:Me first then,: Anur said, Kir exhaling in a rush when there was no flare of pain at his brother’s mental voice.

:Nothing,: Kir sent back, grinning at Anur’s relieved laugh.

:Thank the Sunlord, we’ve gotten far too used to talking to each other like this – which is hilarious, considering we’ve been doing it, what, less than a quarter of the time we’ve known each other?:

:I don’t think those first years count for that, Anur, we hardly saw each other with any regularity. At least in comparison to the last few. But I do agree it’s a little ridiculous how quickly I went from no mindspeech at all to missing it desperately when mindspeaking to you isn’t available for whatever reason. Kari?:

:Here, Eldest,: the Cat said, giving a quiet yowl out loud, :Is this all right?:

No increase in pain, even if Kir still felt his skin crawl a bit at a voice that wasn’t Anur or Aelius.

:As all right as ever,: Kir replied, before reaching for the last of his usual mindspeaking partners, :Aelius?:

:Here, Kir,: the Companion said, sounding more hesitant than either of the others. Considering what had happened the last time mindspeech had caused him pain, Kir understood, but fortunately whatever caused Talent overextension headaches was distinct enough from aggravating Talent burnout scars that Aelius’ voice didn’t burn. Was as easy for him to hear as Anur’s.

:Also fine,: Kir confirmed, :I’ll let you know if that changes over the course of the day.:

:See that you do,: Aelius sniffed, :How’s your back?:

:As I haven’t actually moved yet, I don’t really know,: Kir admitted, :By the constant ache? Not promising.:

:You are going to be very stiff,: Anur grumbled, :And it is way too soon for any sort of warm soak to be a good idea.:

:At least cold compresses are easy enough to manage right now,: Kir offered, grimacing nonetheless because the necessity of cold compresses didn’t mean cold water in winter was any more pleasant, :Going to try sitting up – I think it’s close to Ascending? Have the warning bells rung?:

:No, I heard Third Morning a bit ago though, so the stables are waking up,: Aelius supplied, :Also, thoughts on spice cake added to hot mash?:

:Ooh I can definitely make that happen for you, Aelius,: Anur commented, :Spice cake porridge! How have I not ever thought of that?:

:Aelius. Why.:

:Sorry Kir, but it sounds delicious, and like something I can enjoy too,: Aelius replied, sounding completely unrepentant.

:Sitting up? Want me to help?: Anur prompted.

:Let me try without help first,: Kir said, carefully levering himself off of Anur and swearing under his breath as his back promptly started screaming at him.

“Okay, stop, easy,” Anur said aloud, Aelius and the Herald alike radiating concern from their corner of Kir’s mind, “Let me help, and we’ve got time, let’s at least put a cold compress on the darkest bruising. Willowbark probably isn’t a good idea, if I’m remembering remedy side effects right, but I can’t remember what’s in your headache blend, is that all right with severe bruising?”

“No, same sort of blood thinning. My usual morning blend has some heat-peppers, I’ll add some turmeric to it,” Kir grumbled, bracing himself on his elbows and not moving while Anur flung blankets off of them and carefully climbed over him without touching his back.

“Oh that sounds absolutely disgusting,” Anur said, chuckling when Kari promptly moved into the warm spot Anur had left behind.

“I’m going to need that spot back, Cat,” Anur teased, hooking an arm across Kir’s chest, “Ready?”

“Yes,” Kir hissed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and between that counterweight and Anur’s assistance, he didn’t completely hate himself after sitting up. He severely disliked sawdust and pastry flour and pistachios, however.

“Get your shirt off, lay down again, I’ll get the compresses?” Anur outlined, “Should I put your travel kettle on the stove or wait?”

“Leave that after the Ascending. I don’t have ground turmeric in my kit,” Kir countered, squinting in the darkness, “If the stables are only just waking up from Third bells, the half-mark warning bell can’t be too close. That pattern sounds fine to me. Want a mage-light? Or should we open the shutters for pre-dawn light?”

“And open the window to midwinter cold air? No,” Anur shuddered, helping him get his shirt off and not commenting on Kir’s hisses of pain, “I can see well enough to get a mirrored lamp lit with the stove, don’t worry about it.”

Kir took his brother at his word, easing himself back down onto the bed and huffing a laugh when Kari promptly shifted to press against his side.

“You’re not going to want to stay there,” Kir murmured, “Compress’ll drip cold water on you.”

:I will worry about that when said compress actually appears,: Kari replied loftily, broadcasting, by Anur’s amused huff.

“Fair enough,” Kir smiled, “How are you doing, Kari, recovered enough?”

:Fully recovered, I think. And I still have that suppression field up, though I don’t feel any resistance against it from you.:

“Let’s wait to test that entirely,” Kir said, testing his own sense of that blanketing sensation. He hardly felt it, so evidently that pressure against his senses was dependent on how much his Talent was pushing against it.

:Agreed. I’ll be reaching out to Captain Marghi today to coordinate working with him. Is there anything I should mention to him when I do?:

“I’d like to get him a shielded necklace this winter, and speak to him about mental shielding training logistics, if not actually start on the shielding itself,” Kir said, “Unsure if magecraft usage will make my headache worse though. Could outsource that to Lumira – hmm. Anur?”

:Yes?: his brother asked, :This water is freezing, by the way.:

:Something to look forward to,: Kir shuddered, continuing, :Would you be able to test mindspeaking with someone who’s wearing a shield necklace like Cora’s? I don’t know that either of us speaking to one another would be a valid test, for a host of reasons:

:I can’t mindspeak with people who don’t have some form of mindspeech themselves,: Anur reminded him, :So no. I agree about us testing not being useful though. Kari?:

:I can test it but I’m unsure if the Talent of mindspeech has the same fundamental source as myself,: Kari admitted, :Better than no test at all, though. Actually… what about Maltin’s heart-singing?:

:Oh, fair point,: Anur said, sounding thoughtful, :Heart-reading is what actually caused the Captain’s problems, so shielding that is his own personal priority.:

:Shielding from Bardic is very finicky, well-played music on its own can prompt emotional responses, Bardic just makes it both more dramatic and leaves which emotions result less up to chance,: Aelius said, :It’s better than mindspeech alone, but between that and Maltin’s own inexperience, I’d hesitate to call it a particularly rigorous test.:

The Companion hesitated, very clearly debating an idea, before he finally admitted, :Your sister would be more useful as a test.:

Kir heard his brother’s displeased hiss, and wanted to wince at the thought of making that request. He had planned to write to her separate from the requested post-Midwinter missive to the rest of the family, ask about teaching shielding to individuals without a Talent of their own, and about asking lay people for assistance in teaching mental shielding without causing a panic. He had yet to figure out how to word that letter, but the idea of sending such a letter had occurred to him.

He had no idea if asking her to test some form of shielding amulet enchantment would be better or worse than that already planned letter. But both should be asked of someone, and Elisia and he had come to some form of terms after this visit.

:Kari, would you be able to bring her a letter and an amulet, her only? I don’t think you ever actually entered her household?:

:I walked Anur there, that’s sufficient. Finding a time where your nephews aren’t around might take a few attempts, but I can get there. I assume you’re not writing the full family letter for this.:

:Nowhere near enough time,: Kir scoffed, :That letter is going to be a mess to write.:

:Use it as a draft for our chronicles?:

:For parts of it, at least,: Kir agreed, before summarizing, :We’ll see what Lumira and any other enchanters’ feedback is on the shielding spell design, once one is crafted, we’ll test it with Kari’s mindspeaking and then send it with a letter to Elisia asking for her assistance. Kari, would you be comfortable waiting for her to read the letter and verbally respond, if not actually test it? Perhaps bring her here, to test her Talent against the amulet on one of us or bring one of us to her for testing?:

:I would be willing to do that,: Kari said.

:Thank you,: Kir said, :Hopefully others are able to craft them. I… will need to copy out that runic array.:

:It’s in your chronicle?: Anur asked.

:Yes.:

:I’ll copy it out then, you can’t really do much while this compress is on your back. Gah. I’ll at least need to write out a summary of yesterday before I forget things. I’ll start on that after I copy that array you want.:

:I should probably do the same,: Kir groaned aloud, :When are the Justicars coming?:

:Afternoon. Um. Mark after noon, I think?:

:I will confirm timing with the Justicars this morning,: Kari said.

“So nice to have mindspeech coordination again,” Anur commented out loud, walking across the room as he said, “Kir, this is going to be really cold, just – a warning.”

The warning meant Kir could restrain himself to a yelp and not move, instead of swearing up a storm and flailing to get away from the suddenly damp cold across his back. Kari quickly rolled away from him, undoubtedly wanting to get far away from any chance of cold water dripping onto his fur, but it felt like Anur had wrung all of the excess water out of whatever fabric he was using. Still freezing.

“Yeah, my fingers are numb,” Anur agreed, rustling coming from the desk even as the mirrored oil lamp clicked down on the window sill. “Kari, switch to Kir’s other side for me, I’ll adjust blankets for you both once I get back over there. I need the light for this copying.”

Between Kari close enough his heat radiated, the readjusted blankets keeping his legs warm, and Anur sitting beside him, only his back was properly cold, and after the shock of it passed, it honestly felt fantastic.

“Thank you, Anur,” Kir mumbled, already halfway back to dozing.

“You’re welcome, brother,” Anur said fondly. Kir felt Anur’s fingers run through his hair before he murmured, “Go ahead and let yourself sleep, Kir. I’ll wake you when we hear the warning bells.”

=pagebreak=

Anur did not like the way Kir was squinting at the papers in front of him. Getting his brother through Ascending and breakfast hadn’t been too much of an ordeal, and fortunately it looked like Kir’s claim that yesterday was the more formal bit of the Conclave was accurate, because he had definitely vetoed Kir wearing his heavier vestments today. Buckling his armored vest so it was decidedly snug was the best they were going to get for compression on his bruising, and Anur was loathe to add the extra weight of the heavy woolen vestments when Kir’s preferred field robes were an option.

Also, if Kir got as shaky as Anur worried he would, knocking over inkwells might happen, and if that damaged Kir’s new vestments someone would die.

“Lieutenant-Enforcer? Just added hot water to your two mugs. What is in this one?” Laskaris asked, Anur turning from his slightly overbearing doorway watch and huffing a laugh when he realized which mug the Firestarter was staring at. He honestly could have guessed.

“I don’t know the entirety of the ingredients in Kir’s morning blend, but it’s definitely got heat peppers in it and I added turmeric this morning. His morning blend is a monstrosity, but it works,” Anur said, walking over to the table to monitor the teas for when they were done steeping. His was spice tea, obviously.

“It smells hellishly strong, and oddly spiced, that makes sense at least,” Laskaris commented, grimacing, “Can’t say heat peppers and turmeric in your tea sounds the most appetizing, why – ah. Anti-inflammatory without the blood thinning. He is still in pain then.”

The chatter between Rodri and Henrik faded, the two having claimed dish duty this morning. Anur huffed a laugh and turned so he could see both of them as well as Laskaris, though he directed his words to Laskaris, “Ever been thrown through a wall?”

“Never through,” Laskaris said wryly.

“Well these walls were actually barrels and that’s aside from the general concussive force in the very air thanks to the explosion aspect. He’ll be in pain for a while even with the healing that has happened,” Anur said, hesitating briefly before admitting, “I’m more worried about the headache from overextension, last time he overextended particularly badly, reading made him want to gouge his own eyes out.”

“And the Conclave is nothing if not paperwork heavy,” Laskaris sighed, starting to strain the tea sachets in some of his mugs. The man still wasn’t comfortable with Talents, that much had been made clear yesterday, but he did seem genuinely concerned about Kir and the way overusing his Talent had affected him. That was not insignificant. Anur would take it.

“We tried mindspeech this morning, didn’t make the headache worse, so it’s not as bad as it could be,” Anur said, because he was nothing if not determined to poke at things, “Worst come to worst, I’ll read to him. Henrik, what about you, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Henrik shrugged, passing Rodri the last dish to dry, “A little sore, some bruises, but nothing really landed on me, and my eardrums were healed – I think by Her Eminence? The worst of the concussive force was definitely near the Eldest. I think Kavrick said something about the healers maybe coming back to try and help the Eldest further once he wasn’t at risk of burning them on accident?”

“That’s at least over,” Anur said, sniffing his tea and deeming it steeped enough. Kir would just pour more hot water onto his already used teabag, the cheapskate, so that one he could just leave to overbrew, “We tested it walking across the courtyard this morning. Could change, considering how many of his near instinctive reactions to things include some form of heat or fire manipulation, but at least the completely involuntary flames are finished. Hadn’t heard that about the healers, I’ll ask.”

Picking up some mugs in addition to his two, Anur might have used some Fetching to make sure his grip was stable. Anyone watching would likely just think he was reckless about carrying tea, which was not entirely false, all things considered. He doubted his Fetching would stay quiet past this spring – he used it in combat too easily nowadays, and it was likely only the fact he and Kir didn’t truly spend that much time in the company of the Firestarters that had kept his Fetching from being very obvious indeed over the year. If they hadn’t met and exceeded their drama quotient for the season in the past two days, he likely would have planned out a more blatant use of Fetching sometime this Conclave, but for right now he’d wait.

He’d try to wait at least. The way this visit to Sunhame had gone so far? He’d definitely have to catch a falling chandelier or something ridiculous. If Sunhame had chandeliers.

They had to have chandeliers somewhere in the District…

:Chosen? Focus.:

:Right, right, sorry. Thank you, Aelius,: Anur said, depositing tea mugs in front of the appropriate people and setting Kir’s down in front of him. His brother had gone from squinting at papers to burying his face in his arms, which he wasn’t exactly sure how to take.

“Tea, Kir,” he murmured, taking his seat and bumping his knee against Kir’s, “How’s the headache?”

“Pistachios should be banned,” Kir grumbled.

“But then what would we tease Rodri with?” Anur protested, Etrius and Maltin both snickering.

“Hngh. Fair. Pistachios may stay, but with strict packaging regulations. Only bags, and no larger than… than a cat,” Kir decided, definitely only half-awake, “And no barrels. Ever.”

:Not a very rigorous metric,: Aelius supplied, Anur quickly repeating his Companion’s words aloud and making sure to reflect that teasing tone, Kir snorting even before Anur relayed the rest of Aelius’ words, :One Kari sized bag of pistachios would be practically half a barrel in its own right!:

:Excuse you I am a perfectly normal size for my being,: Kari rumbled from where he’d sprawled out on the table, the other Firestarters poorly trying to muffle laughter at the argument playing out.

“Kitten sized, then,” Kir decided, slowly pushing himself upright and wrapping his hands around his mug.

“Can Fire Kittens even happen?” Anur mused aloud, pulling the stack of papers in front of Kir over to him and stealing his brother’s ink and pen while he was at it, “Because that would be adorable.”

:No,: Kari replied bluntly, tail lashing the air, :We’re always adults. Because that’s what we are.:

“What about miniature Firecats?” Anur asked, passing the copy of the mental-shield spell array to Lumira when he found it in the stack of mixed notes and forms Kir and he had assembled for today and swatting his brother’s hand away when he tried to grab some of those papers back. Until his brother answered his question about the headache, Anur would be playing scribe, “You have that tabby cat disguise, and you’re much smaller as a tabby cat. Can you be that size and have Firecat coloring?”

:Not… precisely,: Kari allowed, Lumira staring at the paper he’d handed her before visibly focusing on Kari. Fair enough, this was interesting information.

:The tabby-shell is… there are two ways of disguising ourselves. We can simply visibly present ourselves as a tabby cat, or rather, as whatever cat one might expect to see, which means those who know us as Firecats see us as Firecats and those who don’t, don’t. To be honest, I am practically always using that working, except when I intend my presence as a Firecat to be widely noted and dramatic. The other way is the one more useful for actual stealth, which is where I physically alter shape to an ordinary cat, but I typically don’t choose my coloration in either case.:

“Kir how are you not scalding your tongue?” Anur asked incredulously, watching his brother practically stick his nose in his definitely still steaming mug as he took a long sip.

“Talent,” Kir replied dryly.

The fact that Anur honestly had no idea if that was sarcastic or if Kir was genuinely using his Talent to cool tea as it hit his mouth was honestly a little aggravating, but he knew Kir had done it on purpose. Rather than give his brother the satisfaction, Anur focused back on Kari, saying, “Sorry, Kari. Had to ask. So that physical change shell doesn’t let you maintain Firecat coloration?”

:Not to this degree,: Kari said, swiping at his own face with his paw, :Lines won’t be as clear, colors not quite as dramatic, things like that. It’s also more difficult to maintain specific coloring in general. Size change takes far more concentration than the see-what-you-will disguise, and by allowing the coloration to be whatever cat-coloring I happen to be thinking of at the time, usually whatever normal cat I saw the most recently, that allows me to focus less on how I appear. With the disguise being necessary in some way, presumably, the less focus I need to keep on appearance the better.:

“Understandable,” Anur said thoughtfully, prodding at Aelius.

:The lack of glowing-white and hooves and eye color does take some concentration Chosen. Mostly the hooves, since those chime on interacting with the outside world in addition to being that silvery color. Hooves are the first to go, as far as disguises breaking down due to lack of concentration.:

:Your hooves don’t chime though, even when we’re alone in the far reaches of Karse. You only let them chime when we’re heading to Valdemar or in Valdemar.:

:Better to keep the habit,: Aelius retorted, :It’d be a stupid reason to get caught.:

:True enough,: Anur allowed, waiting for Laskaris and Lumira to finish their murmured exchange over the tea the priest was delivering – Henrik and Rodri had also been roped into carrying mugs, looked like everyone was getting some form of tea to get them through the first of undoubtedly many meetings. Once they had finished he spoke up, saying, “That array I passed you is Kir’s best description of that mental shield necklace he made with notes on the string magic enhancement he added to make it work for someone not him.”

“Essentially I’m looking for a second opinion,” Kir spoke up, leaning forward a bit so he could actually see them. Laskaris was already poring over the paper in question, and more than a few of the others looked interested. Fair enough, Anur would make more copies. Or ask someone to make copies.

“I know you’ve done enchantment work, Lumira, based on that spear you and Jaina helped craft, but I’d welcome anyone’s thoughts on it,” Kir said, evidently noticing the same thing, “It’s proven to work at blocking mindspeech to varying degrees, at least the one I made with those string magic enhancements, when placed on a person with the Talent in question. What I don’t know and we need to test is how well it serves to protect people with no Talent of their own or any mental shield foundations to build on. It’s not a permanent solution by any means, but it could serve as a temporary safeguard. I’m looking into finding people with other mental Talents to test it more rigorously.”

:Do we tell them about Captain Marghi?: Anur asked.

:We have to ensure they know mental Talent based assaults can have long term lingering effects,: Kir said wearily, :Allow me to say it, please. And keep an eye on Maltin and Kavrick, non-obviously.:

:Hmm. Laskaris too, but agreed. Kari, mind meandering over that way while we’re at it?:

:Of course,: the Cat said, standing and carefully maneuvering around piles of paper and rows of inkwells and tea mugs to peer at the warded necklace design with Lumira and Laskaris, Kavrick and Maltin coincidentally nearby.

“We discussed distributing these more widely in general terms… at some point,” Kir continued aloud, waving a hand absently when he couldn’t remember exact timing, “Unfortunately it’s recently become a little more urgent. I believe some of you have heard this story in one form or another, but for clarity – in the course of one of our investigations, Anur and I were sent to answer a summons for aid at a Sunsguard banditry unit, regarding strange and repeated suicides.”

Kavrick straightened at that, having likely heard of this summons from Loshern.

“The summons had initially been handed to an exorcist,” Kir said, nodding at Kavrick, “And in exchange for looking into some things in Sunhame for me, Fredric Loshern handed that summons off to me. Fortunately or unfortunately, the issue wasn’t one which called for an exorcist – one of the soldiers had lost what control of their Talent they had managed to build, that loss drove them mad, and due to that Talent, dragged others with them. In the course of tracking Ensign Nacht down, Anur and two of the soldiers accompanying me were driven to attempt suicide, though fortunately caught and stopped before succeeding and freed of their compulsion. On our arrival, one of the local soldiers was similarly freed, and within a mark, Ensign Nacht was found, deemed irrecoverably mad, and executed. I snapped his neck.

“The reason I bring this up now is because of that local soldier,” Kir continued after a sip of tea that did nothing to cover the way his voice had broken on that last sentence, “Due to the lack of any lingering effects in the days we remained with that unit after Nacht’s execution and the lack of any lingering effects in either of the three of Nacht’s victims accompanying me, I did not think to reach out and check in with the one local survivor afterwards. Unfortunately we recently found that he was not so unscathed, and while Kari and I will be working on facilitating the healing he needs, I would also like to offer him assurance that he will not be victim to similar assaults again. Hence the necklace – and needing to figure out how to train individuals without Talents to shield their minds, but that will by necessity be longer term than an enchanted object.”

:You phrased that very well,: Aelius said quietly, the Firestarters all apparently digesting that flood of information, :In emphasizing that Nacht lost control of a self-taught Talent, I mean.:

:I can only hope that’s the message the rest pulled from it,: Kir replied grimly, :Because that is most certainly an example of the nightmare stories used to justify persecution of the Talented. Now to see if I can tie it in with the Charter.:

:…good luck with that?:

“And, while I didn’t know about the local soldier’s long term difficulties until recently, the incident itself was one of my primary motivations in emphasizing facilitating the education of dangers and hazards associated to certain skillsets in the Charter, rather than focusing entirely on the pursuit and destruction of those abusing their skills.”

:Never mind, that actually flowed rather nicely,: Anur admitted.

:I’ve had practically an entire year to plan this out,: Kir said dryly, :Though to be fair, I wasn’t entirely focused on that aspect of the Charter as anything other than a way to encourage understanding instead of fear until I spoke with Laskaris about his worries. Now I rather think it might become a central portion of our mandate and hopefully spread to the rest of the priesthood if it hasn’t taken root already.:

“Before we jump into any discussion about anything, much less the Charter, I need at least two Praise Be prayers to process all the words you just said,” Valerik said, face buried in his hands.

“What Talent was it?” Maltin asked. Anur doubted he needed Kir to answer; the way the student was ducking his head and listing towards Kavrick? Maltin already knew, and had certainly been told or figured out what his own Talent was a variant of.

“Heart-twisting,” Laskaris answered instead, voice clipped. He had definitely heard this story before, Kir remembered him mentioning it, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear again.

“Heart-reading, or speaking, I suppose, if we want a more active verb association,” Kir corrected, giving Anur a questioning glance that he could only shrug at. Empathy was the Valdemaran word for it and that didn’t have much association with the active projective component either, not alone – they added the adjective to the base Gift. He’d suggest that sort of addition to the classification schema some other time, or see if someone else came up with it anytime soon.

“Because naming it something other than what it is will help?” Laskaris demanded, practically snarled, “You can’t just – fine! Fine, they’re not evil! They’re not twisted and wrong but heart-twisting is what it does – “

“Heart-twisting is what it can do!” Kir snapped, “That is not the be all and end all of a heart-reader’s capabilities – “

“No! No it is even when it’s for some good reason they’re twisting people’s hearts!”

“Names are important!” Tristan shouted, the younger priest on his feet and visibly squaring his shoulders when every gaze snapped onto him, repeating, “Names are important. Fine, heart-twisting is what the Talent actually does, but that name is a nightmare. If we call it that, all we’ll ever think of is the nightmare, not the way a heart-speaker could help. Because they can. Everyone can help. It’s just a question of how.”

He abruptly sat down, ducking his head and hauling his tea closer. Giving everyone mugs was definitely a strategic choice on someone’s part, because having something besides notes to focus on was definitely useful.

“Thank you, Tristan,” Kir said into the resulting silence, “You make excellent points.”

The younger priest nodded, but didn’t look up from his tea. Anur was really not looking forward to pulling him aside to ask about his necromancy, that conversation was going to be filled with tripwires and snare-pits based on Fabron’s mostly alarming briefing. Don’t look at him for too long? Occasionally he can’t speak, so has to use Ari’s Tongue only, especially if under some form of stress?

To be frank, Anur would be willing to put up with a lot if he could get a trained heart-reader to sit in on some of the meetings they were due to have this Conclave, Aelius’ detecting-mental-agitation trick could only do so much.

“Laskaris,” Kir continued, turning to focus on the other man, who had sat back down and was staring blankly into the distance. At least when Kir said his name the man blinked and came back to himself, though he looked distressingly braced for whatever he thought Kir was going to say to him.

“I’m willing to admit that calling a heart-speaker who has gone mad or is using their Talent to hurt others a heart-twister would be appropriate,” Kir said, some of the tension fading – and not solely from Laskaris, to Anur’s eyes. Laskaris was simply the one who had spoken up, and had vocally disagreed with Kir. The first to publicly do so after his investiture as Incendiary, actually, which made that tension debatably due to topic; they could also simply be worried about what Kir’s response to a somewhat aggressive challenge was.

“I would be willing to refer to such individuals, including Ensign Nacht, as heart-twisters, after they have been proven to have gone to such ends and not worked to redeem themselves in this life,” Kir continued, speaking directly to Laskaris still but definitely noting the same worry as Anur had, “I would personally prefer to only use that sort of negatively associated terminology with individuals who have actively refused to work to redeem themselves, rather than those driven mad and no longer capable of such redemption, but I will not try to enforce that as some form of policy. What I will be asking is for us to actively and intentionally replace witch-power with Talent in our vocabulary outside of specifically referring to history, and to replace blatantly negative names such as heart-twisting with less inflammatory ones. For that matter, I think heart-twisting is the only blatantly negative name in common usage.”

“It is,” Etrius said cautiously, “All the others have less negatively connotated names.”

:Likely due to the sheer volume of nightmare stories associated with that Talent specifically,: Kir admitted to him, :It’s… very disproportionate, if one sits and counts them out. Which might be worth setting some enterprising scholar on eventually.:

:I rather think Etrius will take care of that for us, given enough time,: Anur replied.

“Then perhaps even using heart-twister to indicate a heart-speaker who has lost their way, willfully or not, is inappropriate,” Jaina said, voice very precise and hands folded neatly on top of her own stack of papers, “Perhaps instead we find an adjective to associate to Talents, to indicate if the user has lost their way?”

“I’ve been using rogue, personally,” Anur offered, “So Ensign Nacht would be referred to as a rogue heart-speaker.”

“Necromancers use the same for those of ours who’ve gone off the deep end,” Colbern said, sharing a glance with Seras and adding, “I think the summoners used the same phrasing for theirs.”

“It has the benefit of being already in common usage, then,” Lumira said, speaking half to the group and half to Laskaris, hand resting over his.

“It does,” Laskaris conceded, the last of the room’s tension fading when he gave a shaky sigh, “Rogue heart-speaker. I can – I can agree with that. Apologies.”

“For what? You raised a decent point,” Kir dismissed, “As we have been reminded, names are important. But to focus a bit, as we do have the Justicars showing up for their testimony collection this afternoon – would either of you have a first assessment of that shielding working or will that take more time?”

“First glance seems workable,” Lumira summarized, glancing over it one more time before passing it off to Fabron, “It’s certainly interesting, I haven’t seen some of those combinations before, but I can see the logic. I’d like to try and craft one for testing, and if it works, will happily craft more. I would like to borrow concepts from this for the anti-blood-magic coercion working I’m working on.”

“I – of course,” Kir said, blinking, “I don’t – well. I have no idea how helpful it will be but please feel free to use it for whatever you need. When you have one crafted let me know, we can work out testing and report back. I will ask that one of the first functional ones be set aside for the soldier Kari and I will be working with.”

“Of course,” assorted Firestarters assured, Lumira and Laskaris among them.

“My thanks,” Kir said, continuing, “Right then. Aside from that. I think the first order of business is the proposed Charter review – as I suspect we’ll need multiple sessions to properly finalize that, may I propose we first raise any issues in need of discussion by the whole group now to at least get them recorded for later, if we can’t resolve them today? And then perhaps at Third Day end that, if it hasn’t wrapped up naturally already, and run through the Charter in its entirety, indicate where there are still things in need of discussion before breaking those into chunks of time over the next few days?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Henrik agreed, before looking at his mentor and asking dryly, “You ready to discuss things or do you need longer to process?”

“I didn’t get processing time, you just kept talking!” Valerik complained, but huffed a laugh and said, “I’m fine, thank you Henrik. For issues in need of discussion, I’d like to point out the very sad lack of fancy title for Elder Jaina, as a still-living former Incendiary.”

“Agreed!” Fabron and Laskaris both chorused, Jaina giving Kir an exasperated look.

Anur didn’t know why she bothered. Kir and he were the ones suffering ridiculous titles now, they’d have no sympathy.

“I propose Banked Enflagration,” Anur said brightly.

Kir promptly spat his tea back into his mug laughing.

=pagebreak=

Tristan was glad he had gotten most of his thoughts on the Charter taken care of over the year long drafting process. Henrik was next to him, if he had to bring something new up he’d write a note for his friend to read, but Tristan would rather not. He’d lost his words night before last, after Fabron had warned him the Eldest and his Enforcer needed a word, and Henrik had fussed. If he let Henrik know he’d lost his words again so quickly afterwards, Henrik would insist he didn’t need to have an undoubtedly stressful conversation on top of their already stressful days, and Tristan would let himself be persuaded.

Taking a sip of his tea, Tristan eyed the quickly scribbled copy he’d made of the Eldest’s mental shielding array when the paper had made its way to him. By the annotations, he’d added string magic to the carved metal base, which meant Lumira was their best bet at reproducing it perfectly, and himself and Fabron working together their next best. If it worked, he wasn’t leaving Sunhame till they’d made enough for all of the Firestarters, and if it worked the way he barely dared hope…

He might not leave Sunhame till he was given a specific reason to leave, simply for the novelty of it.

Looking up when Henrik bumped his knee, Tristan listened to the current debate – whether or not they needed special clauses or terminology for members of the priesthood using Talents unethically as opposed to lay people or if those cases would be included by the ritualized damnations like Oathbreaker and Nameless – before catching his friend’s eye and shrugging. He had no strong opinion on this matter; to be perfectly honest, the final compilation that had been pulled together last week was damn close to a final draft. He’d be willing to sign it as is.

That wasn’t universal, obviously, but very few pieces had been pointed out as worth discussing further. Unsurprisingly, those pieces were all in the section detailing their mandate. The bylaws and articles that had formed the bulk of the Charter for centuries had been slashed to the bone and reworded to be as straightforward as possible, but nothing in those had actually changed. The mandates though… those were harder to pin down.

Maliciously crafted blood magic, obviously. Purification of magically tainted lands and waters, destroying Witach’s Brood, those had been their mandate from the time of Ari. Investigating accusations of corruption and wickedness in the priesthood had been added on within the first three iterations of a formalized Charter. When Karse had properly become a theocracy, their mandates had remained unchanged, but the articles and bylaws started growing more complex, outlining their relationships with one another and their relationship with the rest of the growing governance.

Wording regarding targeting malicious use of any power, not just mage-craft, made appearances in the midst of those founding records, and when the Eldest had extracted those phrasings from the old Charters and listed them chronologically, it had been easy to see the way things had slipped. Malicious had become malicious or carelessly dangerous, then had become wanton. Magecraft akin to Witach had become witach’s power, had become witch-powered, had become witch-power. It had taken centuries, there were places where phrasing within one Charter was inconsistent, but now that the wrongfulness of the conclusion was so clearly declared by the Sunlord Himself?

The slide was rather easy to pick out.

Determining where in that slide was the right spot, was the balance point – that was their debate in a nutshell. Blood-magic alone was not sufficiently broad, that was agreed upon by everyone, especially now that they had utmost confirmation that magecraft was in fact a Talent. Unethical uses of Talents would happen without it being blood-magic, also agreed upon by everyone. Determining the definition of unethical was going to be a battle and a half as well, but it was also a debate that didn’t necessarily need to be included in their Charter. At least not urgently.

But accept unethical Talent usage as the phrasing – what were they actually supposed to do about it and what phrasing would they use to describe those actions? Track down? Enforce the lawful use? What if the laws became wrong again? Were they to be responsible for ensuring people were taught? That seemed inefficient, their Order was never large. No, they were to be the safeguards against those who failed or refused to use their Talents ethically, trained or not. Blood magic was simply the foremost example of unethical Talent usage.

That at least, they could all agree on.

“All right, calling it – we have a mark and a half till the Justicars are going to be showing up to collect testimony and then a Hunting Rite discussion,” Enforcer Bellamy said into the next lull in the debate, “Sounds like there’s some questions regarding what exactly these ritualized denunciations refer to, anyway, so that might be best postponed till we talk about that Rite regardless. Though I don’t know how much that’ll do for answering questions, I think you overestimate how much Kir and I actually know.”

“Even if we only end up with more questions, that will at least help form an opinion on what we need to clarify in the Charter,” Holiness Jaina pointed out. Tristan was looking forward to getting her titles straightened out – she certainly deserved acknowledgment as their once-Incendiary, rather than simply another First Order Firestarter. She waved her latest paper to dry the ink faster, continuing, “But I agree, we should wait to continue this discussion. Midmeal, gathering more paper, the works.”

“Etrius or Seras, would you be able to copy out lists of the reference titles you’ve assembled regarding the Hunting Rite?” the Eldest asked.

“We also have some of Kir’s notes from when he was first writing this up, finally found them, I think you two wanted to see those – ” the Enforcer added, cutting himself off with a squawk when Etrius practically lunged across the table for the papers he’d held up.

“They’re not particularly coherent or organized,” the Eldest cautioned, but Tristan doubted Holiness Seras or Etrius heard him at all – or if they did, they certainly didn’t care. If anything, the lack of organization or coherence made those notes more fun. That seemed something Etrius would think, if their carefully focused conversations in Ari’s Tongue were any indication.

He needed to mention his idea for some form of memorial. That was more a topic for the future actions portion of the Conclave, but he could have mentioned it today.

He could have asked Henrik or Etrius to mention it for him today, rather.

Humming to no particular tune as he stacked his own papers, Tristan tried to name the runic anchors the Eldest had used in his mental-shield design and could only get a few of them out. Not yet then. Hopefully the Justicars wouldn’t need his testimony, or that could get complicated. Fabron and he hadn’t done much of anything besides declaring the western charity temple clear of any volatile-based traps, after all.

The Eldest knew Ari’s Tongue though, and he had wanted to get that conversation over with yesterday. If there was any more time before the Justicars arrived and the Eldest was under any less strain, he’d ask to meet with them now. But the Eldest was in the process of standing, and slowly enough it was clear he was still in pain. Trying to fit this in before outsiders arrived and required more of their attention and composure would be rude, and hardly a good start to an already difficult talk.

:Kari, would the Eldest like to have our conversation this evening?: Tristan thought, feeling his now-usual wistfulness about his utter lack of mindspeech. But Kari could hear him always, and that was so very much more than he’d ever had before.

Neither the Eldest or his Enforcer so much as flicked their gazes his direction, speaking quietly to one another about whether or not it was worth the effort to go upstairs and reapply a cold compress to the Eldest’s bruising, but Kari soon responded, saying, :Exact timing depends on when the testimony gathering and Rite discussion ends, but they’ll gladly speak with you this evening.:

Tristan didn’t sigh in relief, but it was a near thing. He finished organizing his papers and stood. Time enough to walk around a bit, grab a snack of some sort for himself, and make tea. He’d save his last piece of pistachio-honey pastry for after that talk.

Maybe with a bribe at the end of it and a few more marks to prepare, he’d find his words.

“But nothing on what title they ended up saddling this Jaina with?”

“I thought Banked Enflagration was a pretty good one to be honest.”

“Oh please, they’ll definitely go with one of the ones with Emeritus in it, it’s formal.”

“Judging by the amount of dueling scribbles on this, Kir has plenty of verging ridiculous titles, they’ll probably pick two.”

“Or they won’t, if Kir anticipates stepping down someday and getting that title himself.”

Chapter Text

“I realize it would not actually help as much as I’m imagining it would, but a trained heart-speaker to at least tell us if we start treading in dangerous, panic-inducing waters would be very helpful for Tristan’s conversation,” Anur grumbled, Kir humming agreement, face down on their bed with another cold compress laid out on his back. He’d forced down a ration bar while his brother got the wet rags ready and now Anur was eating his own bar, having hauled one of the chairs over to the bed so they could talk through their understanding of the Hunting Rite and the Joint Voice manifestation without having to worry about accidentally mentioning Aelius in front of the others.

They had yet to get started though, instead fretting about the rest of their evening.

“We did say that these next few days wouldn’t be a break,” Kir said tiredly, “At least this isn’t an ambush like yesterday was. All right. Etrius is making copies of the diagram and the reference titles and whatever of the notes he thinks should be shared. We can have one of the flagstones drawn on with chalk to give a sense of scale for the diagram if we need to stall questions.”

“First order of business is going to be explaining why the diagram is there when I very obviously did no such thing,” Anur pointed out.

“It’s a meditation on purpose,” Kir grumbled, turning his head to look at Anur, “It’s – I can explain that. Perhaps mention that it is to give the user a chance to really think on their accusations and on whether or not they are certain.”

“Some of the sigils directly appeal to the Sunlord to support your judgment, don’t they? Or judge the accuracy of your verdict, or something to that effect?” Anur hazarded, “Use that as a launch point for don’t use this recklessly you will die?”

“Well, die, or have the same penalties you sought to impose on the target brought down on yourself,” Kir corrected, “But yes, that would be a good place to tie it in. Maybe mention the parallel to the mortally imposed penalty for knowingly making false accusations of Oathbreaking.”

Anur hummed agreement and scrawled a note to that effect before sighing and admitting, “The Joint Voice manifestation is the part I’m most worried about.”

“It’s the part we understand the least,” Kir said, hesitating before saying lowly, “I don’t think it had to happen, yesterday. I – you were gone – “

His voice cracked on the word, and Anur and Aelius both flared their mental presences, Anur settling a hand on his arm and saying, “Easy, brother, I’m here.”

“I know, I knew – what was happening but – you weren’t there, the Voice was there and Aelius wasn’t – wasn’t as absent but he still wasn’t properly present and I could sense some of what was happening but it wasn’t you and it didn’t matter that it was the Voice it was awful – “

“I know, I know it was,” Anur murmured, pressing their brows together and saying quietly, “I know, Kir. When the Voice left me, and you weren’t there – it was horrible. It was awful, because you were gone. Aelius had to – had to step between us, so I could manage speaking to the crowd and the Captain, and you didn’t even protest because you couldn’t even tell because you weren’t there.”

Kir wrapped an arm around Anur, awkward though the angle was, and did his best to bury his face in his brother’s shoulder.

“I don’t ever want to use that Rite again,” Anur admitted.

“I don’t ever want to manifest the Voice again, not when it – not when it’s like that,” Kir shuddered, “And even if it was fully synchronized again, with the clear side effects – we can hardly sleep when the other is out of mental reach as it is, how much worse is that going to be now?”

“Hopefully not much, but we’ll have to try, after we’re recovered from this,” Anur said, exhaling slowly, “We might – hells, what’s the longest we’ve been apart, since that first manifestation? Me getting Lenora back to Valdemar, wasn’t it? That was what, two weeks, three at the most?”

“Try for a week and see if it’s worse or better, then try for two?” Kir suggested, grimacing as he admitted, “I – would rather not push past two, at least not until Midsummer.”

“We’ll revisit that after we try two, see how that works,” Anur said, “As long as we can function – it should be fine. That should be enough. Need to track down Griffon at some point anyway, have some questions for him, that’ll give me a goal.”

:Agreed,: Aelius said, sounding thoughtful, :Though I’m curious to see if this strengthening has resulted in a longer range, rather than a shorter one. I could see it going either way, so a test will be invaluable. At least we have a decent idea of your range before all this, so we can rather easily see if it’s larger or not.:

:Would range be something from scar aggravation?: Kir asked.

:I don’t think so,: Aelius replied, admitting wryly, :But I can’t say for certain, so who knows? We have some tests to conduct, we can go from there. But how are we going to discuss the Voice manifestation here? You said you don’t think it had to happen, yesterday?:

“Ah, right,” Kir muttered, hissing a bit as he and Anur resettled to something more comfortable and Anur grabbed his paper and pen from where he’d held them midair, “When I was – well. Panicking a bit, hearing the Voice where you were, I could tell when the Oathbreaker was brought down. But with the Voice focused on denouncing him I could… think straight, for a moment or two, and realized that with Maude Nolans’ bracelet set to harm her if she removed it, there was no reason to think he didn’t have others with that same sort of spellwork, and if people heard of his arrest, what if they tried to take those off and were hurt regardless? It would be… it would be awful. I couldn’t think of a way we could make sure everyone who needed to hear that it wasn’t safe to take those off yet; innocents were going to be hurt even after he was caught and that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t right and the Voice was right there so I – I asked for help.”

“I should really send Father Gerichen a thank you so much here have some Karsite spices package,” Anur muttered, “Having him speak to you was one of my better ideas.”

“We definitely should send him something,” Kir agreed, “Maybe send some extra, for Asher and his friends?”

“Oh that’s a great idea,” Anur cheered, “We’ll – well, first we need to get our money back from Etrius, then we can see what we have to work with for purchases. Though maybe on our next trip to Sunhame, instead of dealing with any holiday market craziness, because that market was very crowded and your back is very bruised. Oh, anything on the healers visiting again?”

“Haven’t heard anything,” Kir said, “And today is too full as it is. Tomorrow, maybe, but if you’re insisting on having Healer Joss take a look at me I think we can pass. If they show up, fine, if they don’t, also fine.”

“Hmm. Fine, but Healer Joss is non-optional in that case,” Anur said sternly.

“Yes, yes, very well,” Kir conceded. He suspected Senior Lieutenant Janner would insist on the same thing regardless of Kir explaining that his more serious injuries had been miraculously healed by a Voice manifestation and seen to by a Sunhame Healer, so just as well to give in when Anur insisted and not waste time.

“Back to the joint Voice – I remember mentioning it to Seras, he apparently didn’t mention it to Jaina at all, no one seems to have heard of it,” Anur grimaced and Kir knew his own expression echoed it. At least for the Hunting Rite and Sun-blessed steel they could point to the past and say the knowledge had simply been lost and was now rediscovered, but a new aspect of the Voice, one of the most well documented phenomena in Karse?

Not a pleasant thing to find yourself at the center of.

“Did Hansa or Kari ever say anything?” Kir asked, “I remember Kari using the phrase joint Voice manifestation but that – could have just been echoing me.”

“One easy way to find out,” Anur said, shrugging and switching to mindspeech, :Kari, do you have a moment to discuss joint Voice manifestations?:

:Ah – Maltin is having a bit of a panic, I don’t want to leave him,: Kari admitted, :But I can tell you right now I’ve never heard of multiple Voice manifestations to deal with one issue – I can’t say none have happened at the same time with multiple people, but never a simultaneous response to one topic, as far a I’m aware. Hansa could know differently.:

:Maltin… knows about his Talent, then?: Kir asked, sighing when Kari sent back wordless assent, :Stay with him, of course, Kari. Let us know if there is anything you need us for, and let him know that we will support him however we can, if you feel that will help.:

He reached his hand out and Anur caught it with his own, the two of them sharing a heavy silence. Telling Rodri he had a Firestarting Talent, not a knack for fire magic, had been bad enough, and there were no true horror stories about evil done by fire in their lore. There were plenty of reasons for people to fear fire and be wary of it and of someone who took to manipulating flames with such ease, plenty of culturally ingrained stories of awful things relating to flames, but there weren’t true horror stories painting the ability to manipulate flames as evil or inherently wrong.

Heart-speaking’s variations had practically nothing but those, as this morning’s flurry of shouting had made very clear.

“How in the hell do you even train heart-singing?” Kir asked.

“I was planning to ask Griffon to find me a Talented Bard I could ask some questions of,” Anur admitted, “He usually has one in easy finding distance, based on his complaints.”

“That’ll work,” Kir agreed, relieved, “My only thought was to ask Elisia and I – we’re already going to be asking so much of her.”

“Well this won’t need to get added,” Anur promised, “If Kavrick and Maltin ask, we’ll just say that I’m familiar with someone who has that Talent, at least enough to ask them for advice, and maybe get him started on meditating for grounding and centering. It’ll be interesting to see if any of that grounding associates to music like yours does to flames.”

“I’m interested to see if my grounding works out to be the same sort as Rodri’s,” Kir admitted, before realizing there was another option, “Could you ask Griffon, actually? If his shielding methods have any fire imagery or something like that associated to it?”

“That’s a good idea,” Anur said, actually writing in his chronicle this time, “I’ll do that. Wanted to check with him on blood-magic taint, wanted to ask him how he was doing in general and if he had any fire questions for you, now find me a Bard and fire shielding. We’ll have a good chat, and I will hopefully remember to speak Valdemaran the whole time.”

“If you forget just say you’re trying to encourage him to practice so I can send him more monographs without having to waste time translating them,” Kir waved off, bringing them back to their original topic yet again, “Hansa for joint Voice?”

:I reached out to him,: Aelius inserted, :I know you don’t want to mindspeak with him, Kir, so I thought I’d ask and if there were details we could work out relaying, but unfortunately his answer is much the same as Kari’s. Outside of the two of you mentioning it he’s never heard of it – he did reference records of known Voice manifestations, though he admitted some were recordings of False Voices and naturally some things could have been edited out, but he thinks it unlikely that something like a joint Voice manifestation, if it has ever occurred, would have been removed.:

:That’s a fair point, there wouldn’t be much reason to deliberately remove references to having two people manifest the Voice at once,: Kir sighed, :No help at all, then. Thank you for relaying, Aelius.:

:Of course.:

:Could it have something to do with me being your Enforcer?: Anur hazarded.

:Going to be hard to test,: Aelius pointed out, :First we need to get another Firestarter to invest an Enforcer, then we need to be in a situation where the Hunting Rite is necessary and have them around to conduct it with their Enforcer in tow, and both of them have to be willing to accept the deeper mental connection that seems to result from that joint manifestation.:

:Going to be very hard to test,: Kir agreed, wincing at the thought of trying to get everything in place so all they would need was a Nameless to hunt. :Are any of those recorded Voice manifestations Firestarters? I can’t recall any.:

:Ah – one moment,: Aelius said, going silent for a bit before coming back to them and saying, :No. Which. Seems odd?:

:If we assume a Voice manifestation always results from the Hunting Rite, yes,: Kir agreed, before countering, :But I don’t think any of those Voice manifestations refer to the Hunting Rite – in most records there’s at least a sentence or two describing why the Voice manifested?:

:Hmm… Hansa says also no. Strange…:

:The Hunting Rite was actively removed from records though,: Kir reminded them, :If Firestarters only manifested the Voice when conducting the Hunting Rite, historically speaking, that lack would make sense.:

:But it seems strange that out of all the non-Hunting Rite Voice manifestations, none are a Firestarter,: Anur replied dubiously.

:Only because you two are so exposed to our Order. Voice manifestations are rare, and we are a very small population, it’s not unexpected. I ran through the numbers back when I was memorizing Voice manifestations for class,: Kir waved that off.

:Well that makes our joint-because-Enforcer theory a little more plausible,: Anur said, :Only Firestarters can declare Enforcers…:

:Wait, wait, we’re conflating two issues!: Aelius realized, :This wasn’t – well. It wasn’t necessarily a joint Voice manifestation, Kir asked and it became one, but it wasn’t automatically such. So while there are two cases of a joint Voice manifestation, only one of them was joint the entire time – so the joint manifestation shouldn’t be an inherent consequence of the Hunting Rite.:

:Neither were the entire time, in truth. It has to be intent based,: Kir said, remembering his first theories, :Anur you were directly invited to join the Hunt, and then manifested the Voice, I was already manifesting the Voice. And you and I were both prepared to pursue at that point, horses ready to go and all, so we both were clearly intending to hunt Nameless One down – we had no idea what the Rite would actually do to help us hunt him down after all.:

:And this time you were very much not intending to join me hunting him down – no one was, not to the conscious and intentional level we were that first time, so that offer was never extended,: Anur said, mulling that over before continuing, :So the Hunting Rite seems to result in a Voice manifestation in the pursuit – if that consists of one person or more than one depends on the hunt.:

:But if the joint Voice manifestation has those lingering side effects, which it clearly does – any later version of the hunting rite is much more likely to become another joint manifestation,: Kir added, :But is not necessarily going to become one. Still means that anyone who is using this needs to be very careful about who exactly they plan to bring with them if anyone, because I can only imagine a Justicar trying to conduct this rite with a group of Sunsguard accompanying them and then ending up in a very uncomfortable four-way mental awareness sort of situation. Not something to end up with as a surprise, if avoidable. It worked out for us but – well. We were already brothers.:

:The first stage wasn’t too dramatic, an awareness of location and our general mental state, likely easy enough to get used to or ignore. Everything after that I suspect was because we actively poked at that awareness and then started mindspeaking,: Anur reminded him, :But I agree regardless, not something to go into unprepared if at all possible.:

:Which just leaves you two to figure out how to present this theory of ours! Have fun,: Aelius said brightly, :I have a stablehand to glower at.:

:…why, exactly?:

:I always have an empty stall on one side with Riva on the other, and we’re usually placed close to the brick stove so it’s warm, which mean right next to me is apparently the perfect place for late night romantic meetings,: Aelius said darkly, Kir choking on a laugh and Anur not bothering to try and refrain from cackling, :He is one of the repeat offenders, and I suspect his partners are unaware of one another’s existence, but I mostly try to ignore them so can’t be certain I’m interpreting the words I do catch properly. Either way. Annoying.:

“And we thought Fabron realizing Aelius heard his plan to negotiate a stud fee was going to be a reaction to watch,” Kir wheezed, “Imagine that stablehand.”

His brother was definitely having trouble breathing, he was laughing so hard.

:Oh I am most certainly looking forward to it, and am even adding some layers. Glowering is only stage one of the campaign.:

:Kindly don’t give my horse any more inexplainable biases violent enough to assault random people on an inconsistent basis,: Kir requested.

:Good point Aelius, you sure your plan won’t risk us being asked about getting a little operation scheduled for you?: Anur teased, still laughing.

:I have a plan and it is a good plan, now you two just take a nap till the Justicars get there and let me work!:

=pagebreak=

Jaina rapped on her brother’s door, mugs of tea in one hand and a small plate carrying some of Maude’s spice cake balanced on top, her halberd strapped to her back and the leather satchel she used for healing supplies hooked over her shoulder, more relieved than she’d have expected to hear muffled laughter. No one had mentioned the healers following up on their offer to return and work with Kir again, and even if none of her cantrips ended up being serviceable she had liniments that could at least help with bruising.

Bellamy opened the door, and predictably lit up at the sight of the spice cake.

“You have healing magic!” he exclaimed, “I completely forgot about that!”

“You commented on that before the spice cake, you really do care,” Jaina teased, stepping past him and wincing when she finally got a look at the injuries Kir was still sporting.

“That is some truly terrible bruising, you definitely had broken bones before you were healed,” Jaina said, Bellamy taking the mugs and plate from her and setting them on the desk, leaving her to lean her halberd against a wall and start pulling supplies out of her satchel.

“Leave the compresses or remove it?” Anur asked.

“Remove them, please. Cold compresses… warm works better for the liniment but we’ll just let it seep in without a compress and that should suffice, I don’t think warmth with the bleeding that severe is a good idea just yet. Perhaps tomorrow,” Jaina mused, leaning closer to better assess coloration and swelling as Anur carefully removed the damp rags and hung them by the stove to dry.

“No surface bleeding at least,” she said, smiling wryly when Kir turned his head to look at her, “And that’s about all I can say is a positive. Aside from the fact the bones were healed properly, Ari’s sake Kir, a repunctured lung?”

“It’s not like I enjoyed it!” he protested, “It just happened!”

“Well I’m going to be lighting some incense for your healing, because I wouldn’t have been able to help injuries that severe at all. Bruising and surface injuries – even some fractures, those I can deal with, but as soon as there is something more complicated I can do little more than provide some pain relief and of course basic herbalist treatments but nothing on par with a lung puncturing, were you Healed the first time too?”

“He was,” Anur said, propping most of his weight against the headboard after grabbing one of the mugs she’d brought, “But it was a while afterwards that asking even occurred to anyone, he was treated by the 62nd's corpsman for a few days before the healing happened.”

“That man is very skilled,” Jaina said, tying her sleeves back before admitting, “Though I suppose I don’t actually know the standards for a corpsman, that could be usual.”

“It’s middling rare,” Kir provided, “According to Senior Lieutenant Janner at least. That’s the corpsman. Your healing spells – would you be willing to use them during the coming Ancar mess? Priority is keeping any invasion via blood magic from succeeding but in the aftermath if you’re not too tired – any form of aid with the medics is always welcome, magic on top of it? Most certainly so.”

“Of course I would,” Jaina retorted, passing Anur her jar of severe-and-old bruising liniment to hold onto before hovering her hands over one of the darker patches of skin. Assessment spells first, to see which of her cantrips would do any good. The cantrips she knew for deeper tissue injuries required physical contact between healer and patient, and preferably between healer and targeted injury, but best to avoid pressing on this bruising any more than absolutely necessary. The liniment was already going to be a painful process.

“I’ve taught everyone who is capable those basic cantrips we found and some immediate triage spells – I usually manage to time it so it’s during or right after that mandatory one term basic medicine course for acolytes. I was thinking of teaching some of the more complicated or less dire emergency ones to those capable,” Jaina said, “Was going to bring it up in our future work section of the Conclave. I’m sorry Kir, but aside from those basic cantrips the spells I know are master-class at least.”

“I know,” Kir sighed, “I remember that first bit of research we did. I’ve used the disinfectant cantrips we found the most, and those are honestly invaluable Jaina, even making sure everyone who can learn them knows those would be an immense boon in the eyes of the corpsmen and herbalists they’ll be helping. Hells, Rodri is going to be an immense boon if he can get my boiling-water trick down by then. Even just his ability to maintain a particular temperature for flames after working with Axeli will be helpful.”

“Might be worth the two of you talking through what the corpsmen will find the most useful of the things Jaina knows,” Bellamy commented, “You have decent enough medical knowledge, and I think practically all of that came from helping around the infirmary?”

“The few spells I can manage came from acolyte studies, learned a few other things then,” Kir said, “But mostly helping at the 62nd, true.”

Jaina ignored their words, sinking into a deeper assessment spell than she might have used if she was treating Valerik for bruising after one of his rougher nights on the town. She could hear that her brother’s bones weren’t broken a hundred times more and looking at this purple-black mess that was his back she still wouldn’t quite believe it. Better to be certain. At least then she would know.

Nothing broken. Good, she hadn’t been lied to. The bruises were deep, and by severity at depth – he had definitely had bruising on his organs, but all of them were in good condition. His right lung had a point of weakness, nothing she could aid, but evidence enough of that past puncturing. Why that past miraculous healing of his lung left a weakness when this one had healed all his other organs entirely she had no idea, perhaps something about severity of the original injury, but that didn’t feel right. She’d have to mull that over later, for now, she had some healing cantrips to cast.

“You’ll still be bruised,” Jaina said, blinking a few times as her vision cleared, “But I can at least reduce the swelling better than cold compresses would. Liniment after that, and it can be applied multiple times a day – I’d say no more than three, though, it’s strong. Deep injuries are very hard to heal cleanly, if your bruises were milder or more surface level I’d be able to heal them entirely.”

“Jaina, any help you can offer is appreciated,” Kir said, huffing a laugh, “I’d like to actually be able to attend some of the story exchanges this Conclave without hating myself for it later.”

“If you missed every story exchange I think the others would riot,” Jaina snorted, gently setting her hands on Kir’s back and ignoring his hiss of pain as she crafted her spell.

Time slipped away from her, as the deep-injury cantrips usually caused, but when she blinked her way back into awareness the skin under her hands was no longer quite so inflamed, quite so worryingly warm to the touch, and Bellamy had moved to sit on the bed next to Kir, somehow not disturbing her at all when he apparently climbed around them, watching the process with clear wonder. He looked up, realizing her spell had finished, and gave a surprisingly delighted grin.

“I don’t see magic very often,” he admitted, “I’ve never really seen healing magic before at all, actually. That was amazing!”

He was abruptly saddened, gaze going distant as he came to some realization, saying quietly, “Oh. That. Would have been terrible.”

“Anur?” Kir prompted lowly, Jaina accepting the jar of liniment Bellamy handed her and ignoring their obviously mindspoken conversation, Bellamy lying down so they could actually watch each other’s expressions without Kir straining his neck but neither of them physically saying a word.

Kir was physically hissing when liniment started seeping into the darker sections of bruising, Anur grimacing and propping himself up on his elbow to watch what she was doing, conversation evidently over.

“Everywhere or should I only put it on the darkest bits?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” Jaina said, shrugging as she did exactly as said, “No need to conserve it, I have quite a few jars of this made up. Bruise liniment is the most widely used, and I enjoy the process of making these. Extras go to the charity wards, if none of us have someone to give them to – I think Fabron took most of my extras last time and gave them to his stablemaster friend, and I’ve been handing Etrius extras to pass along to the Outer Eighth charity temple ever since he started visiting them. Is it still burning or is it better now?”

“’s great,” Kir mumbled into his pillow, Bellamy’s next exhale rather shaky.

Corking the liniment, she passed it to Anur, who set it on the windowsill beside him near his mug and an unlit mirrored lamp. Even with the clouds, the snow coating everything made the light pouring in from the courtyard more than enough.

Finally, she sat down herself, claiming the chair that Bellamy had likely been using before she arrived, cleaning her hands on a kerchief from her kit as she said, “We’ll let that soak in a bit, possibly cool compress on top of it afterwards.”

Anur flopped back down next to Kir, an arm flung over his eyes. She sympathized, taking the mug she’d intended for Kir for herself and saying ruefully, “Not what I was hoping for out of your first proper Conclave.”

“How did that work?” Bellamy asked, not moving at all, “Now that we’ve actually started the first day, I have a better idea of what that would look like – how would you miss parts of it without just… not understanding what was happening?”

“You assume me understanding what was happening mattered at all,” Kir said dryly, Jaina wincing at that even though it was very true.

“We were preparing for ordination,” Jaina offered, “There are logistics and such we had to deal with, some of which was actually moving our things into a room here so after our ordination and Trial of admission we could have a place to sleep, so that at least will be something our newest students won’t have to waste time on.”

“Last minute fittings for our vestments took a whole day,” Kir said, Jaina wincing again and unfortunately this time they spotted it.

“Jaina?” Kir asked warily, turning his head to properly look at her.

She grimaced, before sighing and admitting, “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I – you should have gotten fitted for your first set of Firestarter vestments at the same time as your initial black-robe vestments. When I found out you hadn’t…I damaged mine and hauled you with me to get new ones. It’s why you had to get your formal winter vestments made after Midwinter’s Day when I already had a set, we only had time to get the basic field vestments made.”

Anur made a hurt sound, and Kir hummed absently and patted his Enforcer’s arm, saying, “Not surprising, Anur, and I’m fine. Armand didn’t expect me to live, I knew that going in. Why waste the time and budget on someone who would never wear our colors?”

“That doesn’t mean it was okay,” Jaina said sharply, knowing the Enforcer agreed with her even without his emphatic nod, “Armand managed to do his job decently enough but was a sorry excuse of a person, he should never have done that to you, forget how well it turned out in the very long run.”

“I know that,” Kir said, sounding amused, of all things, “Jaina, Anur, I am well aware of that. It happened, it won’t happen again, and if anyone tries to do such things to our students or Firestarters now I’ll be first in line to shake some sense into them or shove them down a set of stairs, depending on their willingness to learn. But it isn’t worth being sad over.”

“It isn’t worth being sad over for a long time,” Anur retorted, “It’s still worth being sad over for a bit. That’s awful, Kir.”

“It was also very motivating,” Kir admitted, “Between Phyrrus and Armand, I had a whole host of reasons to want to walk out of the Trial intact. He actually flailed when I walked into Ascending, remember that?”

“I do!” Jaina crowed, remembering that moment so very well – remembering that whole morning so very well because she had been deliriously happy to see Kir walk out of that Trial and watching the others react to his utterly unexpected survival had honestly been the high point of the season, easily beating out her own Third Order Trial the night before. Hard to be happy at finally passing her own Trial when it was immediately followed by walking her younger brother to the room she thought he’d die in.

Armand’s undignified spluttering flail had been immensely gratifying.

“I think we both were at the opening night, and Bron as well – Descending, shared meal, story swaps and then bed, though the story swaps were rather subdued, it was something of a memorial service for Darius and Verius and Persha,” Jaina recalled.

“Bron moved into the Hall with us, didn’t he?” Kir asked, brow furrowing, “But was ordained in the spring?”

“Right,” Jaina agreed.

“Didn’t sit through any of day two, that was vestment day, and to be honest I don’t know what that usually consists of, likely not this,” Kir continued, Jaina scoffing at the idea.

“Definitely not, day two is usually charter discussion if needed, which is rare, summary of issues to discuss, discuss said issues – then budget, and handing in end of year reports to the Incendiary. With this schedule shifting we did for the afternoon’s testimony gathering and the more extensive Charter discussion this year required, budget will follow Descending and be rather brief; you and I can go over details if needed but it’s a fairly straightforward process and you’ve been checking my numbers all year,” Jaina explained, reaching for a piece of spice cake – that, she had brought three of – as she continued, “Then the reports are going to be verbally summarized to the lot of us tomorrow morning and handed in for you to review during the time set aside for one-on-one meetings. Thought is that with Kari, if you have any questions the reporter can get called up without losing much time, and of course if anyone wants to speak to you individually they can indicate that when they hand their report in. I expect everyone will want to, this is your first year. While that’s going on the rest of us are having time to chat and then there’s a sort of… designated discussion time for whatever issues need additional thought – so the Charter, this year – mostly broken down by rank. Lumira usually grabs me and we have a chat as priestesses, since I was the only First Order in Sunhame and she’s so much more senior than the other Third Orders.”

Taking a bite of Maude’s always-fantastic spice cake, she hummed happily before adding, “Probably will split my time this year.”

“Or not,” Kir pointed out, “We’ll have our one on one meeting, Jaina, and if you want to continue chatting of course I won’t say no, but I will also likely nap. Or visit Axeli! Anur, we should visit Axeli, tell him about the sun-blessed steel singing development. That’s what I did that first Conclave on days that weren’t spent on ordination logistics, he only closes the forge Midwinter’s day itself, up until the vigil he stays open though keeps it fairly quiet, as far as what orders he’s completing. It’s usually personal projects, if anything.”

“And you would really only have time for that tomorrow,” Jaina agreed, thinking through the schedule. Before she could discuss the last day Kari spoke up to all of them, saying, :The Justicars have just departed Fourth Court, and Lumira thinks so long as she and Fabron are not needed to testify, she can have a test-worthy version of that mental shield spell necklace by tonight.:

“That is fantastic news,” Kir breathed.

“Well, aside from not having time to apply a cold compress again,” Anur grumbled, sitting up and climbing across Kir without brushing his injuries in what was definitely a practiced maneuver, “Armor for compression, non-optional, but fancy vestments or field? What are we feeling here?”

“No need for the fancier ones,” Jaina shrugged, “None of us are wearing Sunhame best today, though I’ll certainly never object to you wearing something a little less ragged than your usual.”

“They’re not ragged!” Kir protested.

“Hmm,” Jaina said, exaggerating her dubiousness. Kir’s preferred field vestments were fine, truly, they were very him, but they were also very obviously field vestments. Seeing those in the heart of Sunhame’s District regularly, instead of only for someone’s first day back or on their way out, still felt very odd.

Smiling, she conceded, “They’re not, Kir, I’m just teasing. I’ll leave you two, put my kit away and make sure the main hall is ready, I think Etrius was already planning to draw out a chalk mock-up of that diagram in your notes.”

“Perfect, that will be helpful,” Kir said, hooking an arm around Bellamy’s shoulders when the man crouched by him and was soon sitting upright, smiling faintly, “That is much better than it was, thank you Jaina, truly.”

“Thank me by getting better,” she retorted, hooking her satchel over her shoulder and picking up her halberd before she headed for the door, “Bring the spice cake and the dishes with you, I’ll have some tea made up for you both!”

Tea for the two of them and anyone else who wanted it. Possibly extras for their guests – hmm. No. Not for testimony gathering, best leave that till after the official business was over. Assembling enough clean mugs and tea sachets would also give the students something to do while their mentors all testified that wasn’t too risky or distracting, as well! Perfect.

=pagebreak=

Jeryl was and was not looking forward to this. Of course he was looking forward to some of this, Hunting Rite, enough said. But the rest?

It needed to be done regardless of personal preference, because the Firestarting Order had been heavily involved in this case, but that didn’t mean he particularly wanted to hand the Incendiary a report summarizing all the ways his people had been targeted and then ask the man to kindly not act on the list of names attached to said report because the Justicars had yet to figure out in exactly what order they needed to go after the less-direly-guilty people on that list. To be frank, the unfortunate truth was that most individuals the Oathbreaker had named hadn’t done anything legally or even morally wrong. Not yet at least. Ethically dubious past acts, certainly, and a high chance of properly legally punishable acts in response to this plot, had it succeeded, but that wasn’t something he could prosecute. Aside from a stern sermon or two and keeping an eye on them for anything more actionable, there wasn’t much to be done.

But he couldn’t not hand over the list of names – the Incendiary at least, had the right to know who was being watched. Hells, considering the Firestarting Order’s long-standing mandate as the highest authority investigating corruption within the priesthood, he had the legal obligation to hand over the list. The best he could do was ask the Incendiary keep it to himself, but even that was questionable. It certainly would only be a request, not anything with authority behind it. He had set one of his Justicars to review the new legal status of the Firestarting Order in relation to this case, in particular, and been startled to find how little that status had changed from what he had learned in his studies. 

He hadn’t been the only one to be surprised.

Mattis had been the one to pull Acolyte Willas for today’s testimony gathering; Jeryl had honestly thought the acolyte’s victory with the truth compulsion details yesterday would have put him out of the running for being one of today’s note-takers, particularly considering the way Holiness Alfrid had ruthlessly cut the legs out from under anyone trying to argue their way into the third place of their team. It hadn’t been until far too late-early that Mattis had poured a glass of brandy for each of them and informed him that Acolyte Willas had watched an agemate burn for what Willas at the very least suspected was more of a personal grudge than any form of at-the-time legitimate complaint. It was one of the reasons that acolyte had focused all his efforts on becoming a Justicar, and the somewhat fresh realization or reminder that even Justicars didn’t have much recourse when it came to Firestarters regardless of the reforms…

Not an easy thing. Jeryl had no idea how he was going to broach that issue with the Incendiary, and had already decided that it had waited this long, it could wait a least a few days longer, but it would have to be brought up and he was also very much not looking forward to that. Hopefully Willas would be able to recognize some form of remorse or at least intent to reform in the testimonies gathered today and not end up obsessed in some manner. Obsession seldom ended well.

Honored Kari? he thought very loudly. He had flailed and almost fallen down the stairs this morning when the Firecat had asked him for a more specific time than ‘afternoon’ for their expected arrival, and was more than a little dubious about how this ‘think my name and intend for me to hear it’ business would work –

:Justicar Jeryl,: an only somewhat familiar voice replied, and oh was this so very strange, even if he could already well imagine how purely useful this sort of Talent could be. Yesterday had been quite the display of just that, and he was certain he was only aware of a fraction of what had gone on via those mental channels, :You are near the Hall then?:

:Yes,: he agreed, seeing said Hall drawing nearer. It was a deceptively understated building, compared to the rest of the District’s sacred spaces and gilded roofs and towering structures. Compared to the authority the residents still wielded, if over a narrower population than before Her Eminence’s Ascent.

:Holinesses Ulrich and Larschen will be arriving later to go over the Hunting Rite – we presumed that your testimony gathering would be smoothest without potential external interference. Holiness Jaina will meet you.:

He barely had enough time to think that at least he was meeting a somewhat familiar face when he rounded a last hedge and spotted the woman in question striding down the Hall’s stone steps, almost alarmingly unfamiliar in unmistakable black-edged crimson, hair tied back with no trace of any braiding whatsoever much less marriage braids and a live-steel halberd strapped across her back. He had heard the Firestarting Order was more actively militarizing in anticipation of incursions of blood-magic from Hardorn supported by blood-bound soldiers, but this was the first evidence he had personally seen.

Without witnessing the Voice, without spending marks working with Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy and feeling like he had a half-decent understanding of the Incendiary as a result, he would scoff at the idea. Would roll his eyes and guess it was a once-chaplain’s best thought for distracting the people he had come to take charge of from the way their lives had changed. The few times he had given those militarization mutters any credence, which to be fair was seldom, his thoughts had run along those lines.

But now?

He would be writing his friends stationed near Hardorn. They needed to keep their eyes open.

“Holiness Jeryl, Holiness Mattis,” she greeted politely, gaze settling briefly on the more junior Justicar and two acolytes who were in their party, “If you and yours would follow me, we have a spare table in the main Hall and smaller rooms which can be used for testimony gathering if you would prefer we separate.”

“That may be necessary,” he agreed, falling in step with her and unsurprised when a younger Firestarter opened the small inset door for them, “Though I understand there were distinct degrees of involvement?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “Some duties were more quickly resolved than others, while others were uninvolved except in ensuring our own were taken care of.”

Meaning whoever met Holiness Valerik when he was sent back to the Hall, Jeryl would bet. He hadn’t had a chance to do more than glance at the man yesterday, and he had looked genuinely terrible. Hopefully he was somewhat recovered and coherent today.

Hopefully the people he’d brought along weren’t gawking too much. He was hard pressed not to stare himself – very, very few ever entered the Hall who weren’t Firestarters or District staff supposedly specially selected and trained to work for the Order. It was hardly a place he had ever thought he’d be able to see, though to be fair he hadn’t truly longed to, and for all it was nothing truly incredible, expecially for someone as inured to the District’s grandeur and indeed occasionally over-the-top styles, it was…

It was very distinct.

Stone and wood floor, carefully designed to be level despite the mix of materials. He suspected it was stone entirely underneath, with wood added on top for some reason. Walls likewise a mix, though based on the exterior only the lower half of the building was primarily stone, and the regularly spaced wooden wall panels carved in ways he couldn’t quite make out were layered over stonework. Many windows, the most dramatic being the absolutely stunning Sun-in-Glory stained glass window at the far end of the entrance hall, motif done in all the shades of flame and staring down over a metal and wood seat on a raised dais that was only not a throne because of the austere nature of the carvings making the window the focal point of the room. Even the tables Holiness Jaina had mentioned were arranged to draw attention that way, forming a false corridor towards that trifecta of window, dais and seat. If the Incendiary wasn’t currently sitting in it, watching the cluster of Firestarters working on something in chalk on the very deliberate section of the floor that was bare stonework, Jeryl would honestly assume the chair was a symbol of some sort of the Sunlord’s reign, rather than evidently the Incendiary’s rightful seat.

“So hypothetically speaking,” a definite student of the Order started, the Enforcer barking a laugh and flipping through the papers he was holding, shaking his head as he interrupted.

“Rodri, I have a policy of not answering hypothetical questions. If you have a question, commit to it,” the man said, voice wry.

“You’re at least eight years too late for hypotheticals with him, Rodri, his nephews beat you to it,” the Incendiary called, light tone a distinct contrast to the grimace on his face and the pained hiss he made as he levered himself to his feet, looking past the group writing some sort of ritual array into the floor.

“Justicars,” the man greeted, stepping down from his dais and skirting the central stone floor panel, the Firestarters who had been looking it over quickly finding stopping points and focusing their own attention on Jeryl’s group as well. It was distinctly uncomfortable, and he abruptly felt sympathy for the messengers who had to interrupt all-hands meetings in the Courts.

“Incendiary Dinesh,” Jeryl greeted, “I’m Jeryl, First Order Justicar, and lead on this case. We were not properly introduced at the charity temple yesterday.”

“I was not exactly fit for flammable company,” Dinesh replied, faint smile inviting humor in a statement that was honestly mostly terrifying, “Yes, Anur spoke of you, Justicar Jeryl, well met. It is my understanding that the purpose of this is two fold – gathering testimony from our Order regarding our various degrees of involvement yesterday, and a discussion on the Hunting Rite you witnessed?”

“And something of a briefing as far as what we have learned regarding this scheme, yes, though I would ask that we speak of that separately,” he said, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Firestarters started maneuvering around one another to fetch mugs or ink or paper or simply move from where they had been standing. The Enforcer tucked his stack of papers under his arm and accepted a mug from the student he had called Rodri before walking over to them, pressing the mug into the Incendiary’s hands.

“Perfectly reasonable,” the Incendiary said, taking a sip of what smelled like a strangely spiced version of Mattis’ usual over-the-top blend, “The discussion of the Hunting Rite will likely be more of a… well. A lecture, to be honest. At least in the general description and initial inquiries, there are at least three additional individuals who will be arriving for that, and I have been well-informed that my Firestarters will riot if I try to tell this story without them.”

“Depending on what is decided as far as disseminating this Rite along with the appropriate cautions and caveats, I suspect this will be far from the last time you deliver this lecture,” Jeryl pointed out, the Incendiary pausing in the middle of a sip of his tea, though whatever had given him pause went uncommented upon.

“Fair enough,” the Incendiary finally said, eyeing the group behind Jeryl with too mild a look to be pointed, but Jeryl quickly started introductions regardless.

“My colleagues, First Order Justicar Mattis and Third Order Justicar Alfrid, and two of our Court’s acolytes, Willas and Sariah,” he introduced, everyone giving some variation of a respectful bow when they were named.

“Well met,” the Incendiary repeated, continuing, “As for who of the Firestarters you need to speak to – that is practically all of them. Myself, Anur, Holinesses Laskaris, Colbern and Henrik were the members of the Order at the charity temple. Holiness Valerik you are aware of his degree of involvement at least in general, likewise with Holiness Jaina. Holinesses Tristan and Fabron ensured the western charity temple did not contain similar caches and Holiness Seras did similarly for the northern temple as well as determining who out of the southern charity temple’s leadership was there. Two of our students detected the accumulation of volatiles in the first place, though I believe their testimony was gathered at the northern charity temple yesterday? And Holiness Lumira was the one dispatched to alert the Courts of the issue.”

“The students’ testimony was gathered by Alfrid yesterday, we do not need to repeat it. Were there any indications of similar caches at the western temple?” Jeryl asked, focusing on the two younger priests the Incendiary had indicated when mentioning that pair of names.

“Nothing,” one said, the other simply indicating agreement with his fellow.

“Then I do not believe I will need to hear details from you,” Jeryl said, turning to a priestess he recognized and saying, “Nor you, Holiness Lumira, unless you were involved in something after conveying need to Fourth Court?”

“Nothing related to the case, Justicar,” the priestess replied, before turning to the pair of priests he had just dismissed and waving a packet of papers at them – some form of project they were to work on together, apparently.

He ignored that, even if he wanted to ask simply because he was nosy, and turned back to the Incendiary and his Enforcer, saying, “Everyone else indicated, we will need to speak with.”

“Of course,” the Incendiary agreed, “Will here suffice or would you prefer we be separated for recording testimonies?”

“I do not think that will be necessary,” Jeryl said, and if a fair amount of that decision was based on the disaster he suspected leaving the acolytes to gather testimony alone could end up becoming, he would never admit it aloud. By Mattis’ chuckle before he greeted Holiness Valerik, a somewhat familiar face to the First Orders of Fourth Court after all these years, he could guess at Jeryl’s motivation and didn’t disagree.

“If I might make a suggestion, Justicar?” the Incendiary murmured, low enough that with the background chatter from their respective groups determining who would be going where or getting settled at the table they’d been offered – the one not already piled with stacks of paper – Jeryl doubted anyone but he himself would hear him. Nodding, he was startled when the man huffed a laugh before saying, “Have your ordained priests question Colbern and Seras.”

“Ah,” Jeryl said, wincing. He should have considered that sort of limitation, “Yes, of course. Thank you for the suggestion, Incendiary. I would prefer to be the one speaking to yourself or your Enforcer, and Mattis with Holiness Valerik, but otherwise I have no true preference.”

“You mentioned yesterday you might have transcripts of questioning for us to look at for loophole phrasing, is that still something you want?” the Enforcer prompted, steadying the Incendiary when the man evidently twisted around too quickly, hissing in pain.

“I do have those transcripts,” he said carefully, “But due to their contents, I would prefer we speak of that separately.”

“We can skip Descending if necessary,” the Incendiary murmured, the Enforcer giving his Firestarter a displeased look and the two falling silent. Jeryl ignored the abrupt quiet from them, setting up for gathering testimony and ensuring Sariah and Willas had done the same – Justicar Alfrid he didn’t bother glancing at, the man was one of the senior most Third Order Justicars in Sunhame, he simply loathed the bureaucracy of supervising so had deliberately avoided any form of ascent in rank.

“Holinesses Laskaris, Henrik and Colbern, if we could start with you?” Jeryl requested, indicating Sariah, Willas and Alfrid in turn, “I suspect your testimonies will take the longest to collect, aside from Enforcer Bellamy.”

The three priests all nodded and greeted their assigned Justicars, and if Jeryl stared at the clearly well-cared for and enchanted battle-axe strapped to the eldest of that trio’s back no one could blame him. Battle-axes were unusual weapons to begin with, from what he understood, but to be honest the presence of war-grade weapons at all was worth a double-take. Carrying weapons in Sunhame was heavily restricted, forget in the District. Knives, clubs, knuckleguards – things on the smaller or less inherently lethal end, those were common enough in the city proper, if seldom carried openly by non-Sunsguard. The longer knives the Incendiary carried at his waist were very near too much, but could be eyed as a man new to the city after a period of time in a riskier region or on the roads. But a battle-axe? A halberd, forget that a woman was carrying it?

Jarring in the extreme, to say the least.

“When you say speak of separately,” the Enforcer said abruptly, Jeryl quickly focusing on the pair he would be questioning while the man continued, “Do you mean time-wise, or location wise? Or both?”

“Ah – preferably both,” he admitted, glancing at the Incendiary and not quite sure how to interpret the man’s raised eyebrow and otherwise bland expression, but continuing regardless, “There are issues we need to take care of in particular orders to have things work out optimally.”

“Understood,” the Incendiary said, “We’ll withdraw to the office after the Hunting Rite discussion, though depending on timing we might have to request a follow up debrief. To be honest, considering the complexity of this case, I plan to ask for follow up summaries either copied and delivered to the Hall or verbally given to us directly on our regular returns to Sunhame.”

“Either of those can easily be arranged,” Jeryl promised, and further promised himself he would only push a little bit for in person debriefings. Besides not having to copy things out and ensuring that the information stayed as confined as possible, that sort of conversation would easily invite a proper exchange of news – and he didn’t doubt that the news these two would have to offer that exchange would be very interesting indeed.

=pagebreak=

Karchanek had managed to escort Grevenor back to his quarters yesterday without, as Solaris had put it, aggravating things further. The only reason they had managed that was by virtue of not speaking to one another at all beyond an offer and acceptance of arranging for Grevenor’s evening meal to be brought to his quarters. After that he had gone to the archives partially to distract himself with his ongoing research projects, but mostly because he knew exactly where Ulrich would end up the moment he got back to the District and he wanted to be involved in this case as much as he could.

Spending the rest of yesterday helping Ulrich and his student track down references and then getting roped into helping Larschen coordinate things once word started spreading far enough amongst the Justicars of the city to require centralized action had been fascinating. Had left him a little wistful, that he hadn’t been able to poke around at things himself.

But Holiness Dinesh – no, damn it all, Kir, the man had been rightfully upset at being singled out by fellow council members and they had all agreed to stick to a first name basis amongst themselves outside of formal situations. Seeing as the Ince – seeing as Kir and Anur, Sunlord that would hopefully someday stop feeling so bizarre – seeing as they were the only council members who actually had surnames to use, it was a truly reasonable request. That didn’t make it any less difficult to follow through.

Much the same, Kir’s insistence that the minimal number of members of Solaris’ Council be involved in dismantling yesterday’s trap had made perfect sense. Had been perfectly reasonable. That did not mean it was any less disappointing to hear about all the amazing things Ulrich had witnessed and he had missed.

If he had the uncharitable thought that at least Grevenor had missed witnessing the Hunting Rite too, well. He was only human, and would have to continue to work to better himself.

Considering yesterday’s drama and the need to present a united front in face of the utter mess that had been unearthed, he had been unsurprised to receive notice that they were to meet at midmorning in Solaris’ office. Karchanek had even thought that Grevenor’s apparent issues with the Firestarting Order and the horrifying claim he had made that they had lost nothing would come up. Sunlord, when Grevenor had said that – had the man listened at all when Kir spoke of his worries for his Firestarters? It seemed not, because Karchanek distinctly remembered mention of mitigating the odds of the Firestarters committing suicide, which wasn’t exactly characteristic of people who had lost nothing.

He had thought it would be brought up. Perhaps even be a main topic.

Karchanek had in no way expected this.

His hand shook slightly, as he flipped through the stack of papers Solaris had ensured was waiting for each of them for what had to be at least the tenth time since he’d returned to his own office. Retreated, if he were honest, and he tried very hard to be honest with himself at the very least. The packets they had each received were identical, and across the top of the first page was a key, indicating what the sigils next to every name indicated.

He knew some of these names. Many of these names. Particularly with his work helping escort returners from Valdemar back into Karse, he had met far more members of the priesthood outside of the District than he’d ever had the chance to before Solaris’ Ascent. It had been rather fun, to be perfectly honest. It had certainly broadened his perspective in very useful ways.

The thought that some of the discussions he’d had over the year, about faith, about the reforms, about irrigation methods, even – the thought that he may never have had them was surprisingly distressing. Certainly, other discussions would have happened in their place, but there were so very many who could have been swept aside, if Dinesh had been an ounce less principled. If he had placed emphasis on haste, instead of thoroughness.

But some of the names he recognized not as interesting conversationalists, but as those who had died Nameless, who had been sentenced to death after Solaris’ Ascent, when they had been shown to be irredeemable in this life. Not without unacceptable cost to those around them, at least. The balance was impossible to strike perfectly, and Kir had veered towards mercy when no one could have faulted him for going the other way.

Before this year spent out of Sunhame, Karchanek worried that he himself wouldn’t have made that choice. It would take further reflection. But more important than brooding on what he might have done, that past version of himself, was what he would do going forward. Was what the Council would do, going forward, because while he had only truly spoken to Grevenor about the man’s doubts and guilt and the way those fused together to point at the Firestarters, he did not doubt that Larschen and Ulrich had at the very least had moments of similar thoughts. Perhaps not for long – Ulrich called one of the Firestarters friend now, after all, but they had certainly had moments.

None of them had thought anything of announcing the corruption of the so-called purifying flames to the masses with no warning to the people most responsible for lighting them, after all.

And the Firestarters’ leader had been furious at that oversight, at that cruelty; he had been right to be. The Firestarters’ leader had shown more mercy and forbearance to so very many priests and priestesses in their nation than the other leaders of this revolution had cared to show to a bare ten.

How could they be upset, that the man extended the same chance to his comrades? How could anyone deny the Firestarting Order the chance to change, to see how those so very few actually responded to these reforms? Hells, if Solaris’ quote about summoners who wished to see a return of Fury summoning was accurate – and he didn’t doubt it was – there were more of those than there were ordained Firestarters!

He had no way of knowing how much had gotten through to Grevenor, but Solaris had started with the list of names the Incendiary had rendered judgment on at her behest and a blistering not-quite-sermon on just what she would have been perfectly content to accept as an outcome versus what her Incendiary had actually done, and ended with the list of names the Justicars had sent her, of those who would see the Firestarters dead and ashes for their own purposes. Both lists had been distressingly long. The fact that Sunhame was a viper’s nest was an excuse, but they had been working on Solaris’ Ascent within Sunhame for years, they’d had her in power for nearly a full year, and there was this festering mess right under their noses? Right at their door? And they had known nothing?

Oh certainly, in hindsight Karchanek could see hints, could recall whispers, but nothing that he had properly noted. Nothing he had done anything but wave aside as irrelevant at the moment, he had more urgent things to deal with.

One of the oldest orders in their priesthood had been targeted to be destroyed, countless denizens of Sunhame had been abused and whatever trust in the priesthood they could have had shattered potentially beyond all repair, and they had been entirely blindsided by it quite literally blasting open yesterday. He didn’t doubt that the Justicars were kicking themselves too, there was undoubtedly a lot of that sort of thing going around right now, but those two lists – the contrast of those two lists –

Solaris was a masterful orator, he knew that very well. The presentation of facts had been deliberately structured to highlight just this contrast, but knowing how much work had likely gone into determining how to word things, how to strike that desired note, did nothing to make the message less powerful. Less striking, because it had certainly struck. All of them had been shaken, when she had finished. He had little doubt that her words and her point would be seared into their minds for the rest of their lives.

“Mercy and ruthlessness are not mutually exclusive. A balance must be struck, by every person, in every moment, for every situation. Meditate on your own balance, and meditate on mine.”

“Someone had to teach Uncle Kir to ask for help?”

“…that’s really sad.”

“Yes, dear ones. Yes it is. Damn it Lukas, that pour was pathetic, I’m old not dead. Top me off.”

Chapter Text

“Is everything alright?” his student asked quietly, packing up his own writing case now that he’d confirmed for himself that Ulrich’s was restocked and assembled.

“I am quite alright, Karal,” Ulrich replied, feeling the usual rush of fondness at his student’s poorly hidden skepticism. His student was more than capable of properly hiding his feelings, but one of his fondest memories was when Karal had first ventured a bit of humor in his presence. After that first joke – and the priceless expression on his student’s face when Ulrich laughed – Karal had gotten much more lax about his composure when they were alone. Ulrich had been relieved to see it.

“Truly, I am,” he promised, checking the window and humming thoughtfully. Bells for Seventh Day had just rung – by the time they finished in the Hall it would be a rush to get to Descending, if he was any judge, and those clouds looked quite heavy. Best wear a scarf and some gloves at least. He could likely skip the hat, and his winter-weight vestments were wool and had enough layers that he would be warm enough without a cloak.

“It was simply… a rough meeting, this morning,” he allowed himself to admit, eyeing the stack of papers Solaris had handed each of them.

It had been needed, he acknowledged grimly, looking at that first sheet of names and forcing himself to read them, to not just skim the list and dismiss it from his mind. The list was so very long, and so very many had two or three tic marks beside them instead the crosses of the dead. Their new Incendiary had taken so very much care to offer mercy, to give those who might thrive under Solaris if only they had the opportunity that very chance.

Mercy was not what one thought of first, when one thought of a Firestarter. Knowing Seras as he did, mercy was not what one necessarily should think of first, when one thought of a Firestarter. But when one thought of Kir Dinesh, Incendiary, Chaplain of the 62nd… yes. When one thought of him, mercy should be at the forefront.

And how could they expect the man to be who he was, if he did not extend that chance to his own people? How could they consider themselves members of Solaris’ council, claiming to move away from the punitive and reactionary regime they were replacing, if they did not offer the same? Solaris’ words on old biases and the necessity of dragging them into the light before they could be properly uprooted had been timely, and if he wasn’t mistaken had the distinct tone of a sermon-in-progress. It would be an excellent one, he was sure.

He would have to make sure it was properly transcribed and disseminated.

“Your hat, sir?” Karal said with his practically weaponized concern.

Perhaps that was just him. Ulrich was very susceptible to that worried look.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Karal, I quite forgot,” he lied, accepting the hat and pulling it on along with his gloves before taking his traveler’s writing case and ushering his student out so he could properly secure their office door.

“How have your winter projects been going? You finished the copying you volunteered for, didn’t you?” he prompted, exhaling simply to enjoy watching his breath cloud the air. His joints did not care for the season any longer, but he had always loved winter.

Likely heavily influenced by the fact it was when he got to indulge in scholarship more than summoning, in his younger days.

“I did,” Karal reported cheerfully, “All that’s left are the illuminations, and I was actually going to ask Etrius if he wanted one of them, he mentioned wanting an illumination project. This morning I got pulled into a project tracking down public archive records of soul-healing, though there wasn’t much.”

“Hmm, likely not,” Ulrich agreed, offering his student a smile, “Fortunately for your insatiable curiosity, that is a matter I have been asked to look into, and your assistance will of course be invaluable.”

He had to focus on where he was putting his feet, between the snow and the occasional patches of sand-scattered ice, but he could still see the pleased smile his student tried to hide by ducking his head. He would give Karal access to some of the more innocuous and generic soul-healing texts in the exorcist caches, and ask for his student’s thoughts on making those texts available in the public archive. He would take the more active practitioner ones for himself, and perhaps dream of the day where very idea of giving those to the more public archives didn’t leave him in a cold sweat.

“Ulrich! Also heading to the Hall?” Larschen called, walking far more briskly than Ulrich dared but the man was young, he could tolerate slips on icy stone far better.

“Of course,” he replied, raising an eyebrow, “No scribe accompanying you?”

“I don’t have a particular student to mentor any longer,” Larschen reminded him, offering Karal a smile and murmuring a reciprocal greeting when his student made the usual gestures, falling into step with Ulrich as he continued, “And to be honest, I would have felt obligated to offer some description of what we were to discuss, and then a brawl would have broken out for the honor.”

“We will have to ask for a broader lecture to be delivered at some point,” Ulrich mused, “Quite a few people will want to hear about this. Perhaps with eyewitnesses as supplemental speakers…”

“Some of the Justicars involved in the aftermath to start discussion on how the Rite and the inherent consequences of it interact with our mortal justice system,” Larschen agreed, “And a very particular sort of person to hammer home the consequences of wanton usage, as I suspect those consequences are not insignificant.”

“That would make sense,” Ulrich agreed, having wondered at it himself. It seemed far too simple and too powerful a Rite for consequences of misuse to not be dire – otherwise, why would it have ever been lost?

“For it to have been so thoroughly lost?” Larschen said, echoing his thoughts, and the once-active Justicar and now Justicar-focused instructor shook his head, admitting, “As many decades, if not centuries, that a theoretical redesign of the Rite has been an advanced magecraft thought exercise for Justicars? I suspect it has been rediscovered in one form or another, but their use of it was improper, and the consequences lethal. It would likely be considered a flaw in the Rite, not in the cause. Of course that isn’t helped by the fact I can’t recall any specific references to the Rite being used by a non-Firestarter, though evidently it can be, given Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy’s use.”

“Actually, Holiness Larschen,” Karal inserted politely, “Enforcers are part of the Firestarting Order, both ecclesiastically, and for budgeting purposes, according to Etrius.”

Larschen blinked, glancing over his shoulder at Karal and saying, “Truly? Fascinating. I thought he was classified as a member of the Sunsguard with additional honors – like the Oriflamme to a particular unit, but on an individual level.”

“Etrius or I could have misunderstood,” Karal allowed. “However, Etrius seemed quite certain that an Enforcer is a member of the Firestarting Order.”

“Perhaps I will ask,” Larschen decided. “In the context of using this Rite safely, it could very well be relevant.”

Karal was an absolute master at trailing politely behind until a door came into sight. How exactly he had ended up with such a polite student when he remembered his own much younger self as an absolute terror, he did not know, but he thanked the Sunlord every day. By the utter lack of hesitation in opening the door and no attempt to peer in before stepping aside for Ulrich and Larschen to pass, his student had definitely been pulled into the Hall before. Undoubtedly by Etrius in pursuit of a reference text, and likely only officially given permission to do so by an ordained Firestarter after they were both eyebrow deep in the stacks.

Ulrich had no room to object, even if he’d been inclined to; he had been here many times over the years to discuss necromancer and exorcist overlap issues with Colbern or visit Seras for their own scholarly pursuits. Larschen, on the other hand, had very clearly never been here before and was not even trying to hide his intrigued glances. It would be interesting to see if the Firestarters decided to make their Hall more explicitly open to visitors. The practice of only Firestarters and their invited guests entering the building was one that was custom more than policy – this main hall, at least, was supposed to be open to all. It was how one could report concerns of corruption or blood magic in the old days, and the official reason for the long standing policy of one Firestarter being in Sunhame at all times.

“ – instrument made of Sun-blessed steel and then played the tune we hear on those?”

“I would literally set my face on fire, Rodri!”

“No, no not a flute or pipes – um. Bells? Wait! There are string instruments with metal strings, aren’t there?”

“Making those is rather specialized, Rodri, and making any such string out of sun-blessed steel will likely require redesign of the Rite, and potentially negotiations with a trained crafter other than Axeli,” Incendiary Dinesh said – ah, no, the Council members had all agreed to address one another by name unless their title was needed for clarity after the whole no-longer-successor business had been brought up.

“Well let’s pretend we could do it, what if you used that?”

“…my fingers would catch on fire?”

“I’m not suggesting we do this anytime soon, you’d have better control, obviously,” the young man, undoubtedly the Incendiary’s fondly spoken of student, waved off all concerns of burned fingers and potentially prohibitively expensive craftings with the confidence of the young, “But it’d be interesting – actually, Father Kir, I wanted to ask, are there any references to what sorts of Sun-blessed steel we used to have? I don’t remember any of the stories or songs describing what sort of things were made with Sun-blessed steel.”

“There are some texts with more specific descriptions; it was practically all weaponry though I personally think there were at least a few sacred tokens and the like based on some throwaway references,” Kir explained, “I’ll point them out to you, but the language is very old.”

“Archaic Karsite is on my schedule for next term,” the initiate said practically, “Those will just be motivation to study. Thank you Father Kir!”

“Of course, Rodri,” Kir said – it was truly amazing how informal it seemed to even think of him by his first name when the man used his surname, Karchanek had said as much himself and Ulrich could not disagree.

“Ulrich, Larschen,” Kir greeted, turning from his student and offering them a faint smile, “Welcome to the Hall. If you need a place for taking notes, this table has clear spots – the other is filled with our Conclave paperwork so is best left untouched. And you are Ulrich’s student?”

“Acolyte Karal Austreben, Incendiary,” Karal offered, bowing.

“Well met, acolyte. Just the three of you, yes?”

“Correct,” Ulrich said, promptly setting his writing case next to Seras and accepting the mug his friend pressed on him, rather pleased to see Karal claim a similar seat and mug from Etrius. Perhaps he could push for this Hunting Rite discussion to prompt a collaborative research project for the two of them – his student may only need allies, but he loved his student enough to wish for him to have friends. He had a sad lack of them, so far as Ulrich could tell.

“Joining us from Fourth Court are First Order Justicars Jeryl and Mattis, who I believe at least some of you are familiar with, along with Third Order Justicar Alfrid and Acolytes Sariah and Willas,” Kir said, the individuals indicated at least offering nods of greeting. The two acolytes had most certainly fought for the honor of being here much as Larschen had feared prompting – the girl, at the very least, had scraped knuckles, “And of course all the Firestarters, as I have apparently been remiss in failing to provide a thorough documentation of every aspect of my past few years.”

“One of these days you’ll run out of excuses to hold your records hostage, and on that day, I will be victorious,” Seras said, pointing his pen at his Order’s leader, “For the record, I have won a long and storied battle for first readership rights.”

“Is that so,” Anur scoffed, shaking his head, “Long and storied?”

“Very long at least,” Ulrich grumbled, “You most certainly cheated.”

“If you can’t prove it, it doesn’t count,” Seras retorted, far too smug to be innocent.

Both the record-hoarders laughed, before the Incendiary strode over to the chalk diagram and let his gaze sweep the room and the assorted note-takers in particular, evidently wanting to ensure they were ready to start writing. By the way the man’s lips twitched into a smile, Ulrich was far from the only one with a verging on hopeful expression on his face.

“I will not spend much time discussing the already available records of the Hunting Rite, scarce though they are. Etrius has made copies of my reference list… or at least what I remember of my reference list, I researched this Rite as a topic to distract myself more than as something I ardently wanted to reconstruct. The reconstruction effort didn’t take place until I was ordained and out of Sunhame and was based on what notes I had brought with me and what I could remember or logic out,” Kir said, and it was rather curious to see the way he settled into what was most certainly a Sunsguard at-ease parade ground sort of posture. Not exactly, but it was a notable resemblance.

The man had spent half his life as a chaplain, and only barely been of age when he had been sent out. Picking up on some of their habits and stances only made sense.

“Instead I’ll focus on the two successful usages of the Hunting Rite – both the Rite’s actual happenings and its consequences, as well as the potential for future use and the warnings that must accompany any relaying of how to use this Rite,” he continued, which certainly lent weight to Larschen’s lethal-penalty guess.

“The first time Anur and I used it was – two years ago? Not particularly important. Before Solaris’ Ascent, at any rate, and we had been working on issues related to her Ascent for some time. While we were returning north from an investigation on Solaris’ behalf I was flagged down as a Firestarter and presented with an accusation of Oathbreaking from one Sister Rhianne against the one then called Eshkal...”

And so it went. There was the occasional clarifying question, but for the most part questions were left for afterwards, and a stack of those promised lists of references and even a neatly labeled copy of the diagram the Eldest was standing in the middle of made their way around the table. He recognized most of the titles, and would need to add a few of his own – because that diagram had at least two sections he recognized from assessment spells taught to those specializing in soul-magic.

Ulrich was glad he had brought his writer’s kit for this. He never went without it outside of Sunhame, but within the District he had developed a tendency to rely on his memory or on someone nearby having a bit of paper to spare. Besides even that, he had Karal to bring around on most of his scholarly excursions in the District, and Karal took excellent notes.

This, however, was far too esoteric and honestly intriguing for him to not at least jot down some notes of his own, particularly since he knew his student didn’t have the most thorough education on magecraft and soul-magic. More critically, Seras would scoff at him forever for passing up the opportunity to take notes on something like this himself, and if he had asked Seras for a bit of paper the man would have given it to him and held it over his head for the rest of their mortal existences and likely beyond.

“Oh it’s entirely unnecessary,” Kir admitted frankly, after opening the floor to questions and immediately receiving one from Justicar Jeryl about the utility of the more elaborate preparations, “That’s clear enough after yesterday. Besides, no Rites actually require anything more than a genuine appeal to the Sunlord. I suspect even the three items tossed into flame could be done away with in truly dire situations, but it is a reflection of intent.”

Kir paused, walking back over to Anur and sitting down before continuing, “But they serve as a warning, in and of themselves. The array contains your accusations, true, but it also specifically states that you are calling on the Sunlord to support your judgment call. It is – you are saying that you are right, that you do not doubt for a moment that your cause is just, that your judgment is correct, that your verdict is deserved, but you are incapable of rendering it and need the Sunlord to aid. You are literally calling on the Sunlord to judge your declarations and aid in your pursuit. If you use this with genuine belief that they are guilty and you are wrong, perhaps you might survive the experience, but if you are using this as a shortcut? Even worse, against a person the Sunlord does not deem worthy of the penalties you have declared them in need of? Death, easily.”

“I agree misuse has severe penalties,” Larschen said, walking over to take a closer look at the chalk diagram, rather than the paper copy he had received, “When Ulrich described what he had witnessed to me, and I think about the literal centuries Justicars were given a reconstruction of this Rite as a thought exercise sort of assignment – unusual usage of threes aside, I suspect this Rite or some functional variation has been rediscovered multiple times over the centuries, but used on causes deemed unworthy. Depending on what that cause was, death would be deemed a fault in the construction of the Rite, not in the cause itself.”

“I found records that indicated a hunting rite of some sort was attempted to find Talented early on in their targeting, but they escaped and the practitioners are the ones listed as dead soon afterwards,” Kir agreed, accepting the mug of tea his Enforcer offered him, “Multiple rediscoveries left by the wayside because of that makes quite a bit of sense.”

And if multiple discoveries left by the wayside over time put less emphasis on Kir as the one to recreate this Rite, all to the better, Ulrich thought ruefully. Solaris’ rather blistering discussion this morning had been sorely needed, but her words when she had pulled him aside afterwards about soul-healing and how to word the description and training of that ability to emphasize it’s nature as a burden rather than a sign of the Sunlord’s favor had been almost as memorable.

“As does a deliberate loss by those who didn’t want anyone questioning the wickedness of Talents,” Seras commented, Ulrich humming agreement. They were hardly alone in trying to build a timeline of sorts for their nation’s turn off of the Sunlord’s path, but they were some of the most senior researchers working on the issue. That sort of education tailoring would have been quite easy to do, based on patterns in their histories and his own understanding of how curriculum in Sunhame’s District propagated.

“Precisely,” Dinesh said quietly, “Unfortunately, enough records have been lost or destroyed over the centuries that we have no way of truly knowing.”

“Which certainly doesn’t help determining any of the side-effects that aren’t lethal consequences for misuse,” Justicar Jeryl murmured, brow furrowed as he stared at the ritual array.

“Not at all,” Kir ageed, exchanging a long glance with Anur and likely mindspeaking before continuing aloud, “To more specifically discuss the consequences of the Rite’s use… there are two broad categories for side-effects – those that affect the hunter and those that affect the target. Both can be problematic.”

“For the target, it is less the Rite itself as it is the consequences of the denunciations,” the Enforcer said, nodding at the two First Order Justicars, “As was discussed yesterday, Namelessness evidently results in a loss of self-interest in various forms, including self-preservation, which could lead to some reckless and wanton destruction as they no longer have motivation to hide themselves. I do not know what the other denunciations do, no one really seems to... Honored Hansa only knew details of Namelessness.”

“Definitely something that needs further investigation,” Kir said, shaking his head, “In both uses, we declared Nameless, Oathbreaker and Outcast. When the target was caught, the Voice used similar phrasing, but enacted different penalties – always three. Stripped of their membership in the priesthood, as Oathbreakers. Of their name, as the Nameless. The third varied between the two, but didn’t reference Outcast.”

“Outcast was never a phrase used by the Voice at all,” Anur continued, and Ulrich knew he was definitely not the only one transcribing this conversation in as close to word for word as he could manage, “Justicar Jeryl kindly arranged for copies of Captain Marghi’s witnessed arrest report be made, he includes a transcription of the Voice’s declarations.”

The next stack of papers made the rounds, though the Justicar’s party evidently already had copies. It would certainly be worth close reading, but Ulrich first found the transcription of the Voice’s words, and the Oathbreaker’s reactions to them.

“His description matches my own memory,” the Enforcer said, “And strongly echoes what we recall of once-Eshkal’s capture. The only change was in the last consequence; once-Bertrand was stripped of his Talent. Once-Eshkal was stripped of his life.”

“I am familiar with ritualized denunciations,” Ulrich admitted carefully, writing a note to that affect in his own notes, “My understanding of Oathbreaker is that whatever status you gained as a consequence of your Oaths is removed from you, and Outcast was grouped with Shunned and Forsaken, all described as removal of the one in question from the Sunlord’s mercy.”

“What other ones are there?” Holiness Jaina asked, sounding thoughtful, “And what degree of Oaths are needed for Oathbreaker to be brought to bear? Is it only oaths sworn by members of the priesthood? That is the custom, I realize, that Oathbreaker as a denunciation is one member of the priesthood accusing another, but Anika Brersi at the very least is an example of a lay person declaring a member of the priesthood one such.”

“Thinking historically there have to be others,” Seras said thoughtfully, “If we assume this version of the Rite is similar to that used against the witach centuries ago, at least in needing multiple denunciations. Perhaps being declared witach is sufficient.”

“I would lean more towards the formal Kin of Witach phrasing, simply because it implies a similarity in morals and not merely in practices,” Kir said, which was a very interesting nuance coming from a man Ulrich knew very well was very convinced of the utter monstrosity of blood-mages, “For Oaths, Jaina, I would assume it is Oaths sworn in the Sunlord’s name, but cannot be certain.”

“I would agree, as Oathbreakers don’t need to be priests, historically speaking,” Colbern said, likely startling anyone unaware of the case he was undoubtedly referencing. The man evidently expected the curious looks he received at the interjection, even from the Incendiary, almost immediately elaborating, “Karsite-trained necromancers swear oaths in the Sunlord’s name to avoid ‘acting as one akin to Witach’. A non-priest necromancer broke those oaths centuries ago, and was formally declared Oathbreaker and Forsaken after it was realized. There was no Hunting Rite to confirm the denunciation took before he died, but the protections granted to him by being so-sworn were removed.”

“The consequences of Namelessness are the ones I find most worrying, simply because of the potential for damage to innocents done before they are caught,” Bellamy admitted, “Other than that, while interesting, I don’t think anyone has much worry for what those denunciations do to the target.”

“True enough,” Seras conceded, “Though interesting, as you say. You said there were consequences for the hunters as well, however?”

“Yes,” Kir replied, hesitating before smiling faintly as he said, “But again, it is not quite a consequence of the Rite, in and of itself. More a consequence of the possible joint Voice manifestation that can result from the Rite, near as Anur and I can determine.”

“Yes, about that phrasing,” Ulrich inserted, “Could you define joint Voice manifestation? I can guess some of it, but it is not something I have heard of before.”

By the matching grimaces on their faces, Kir and Anur had heard similar sentiments before, and were distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of being yet another example of a strange and miraculous occurrence. Understandable, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask questions about the strange and miraculous occurrences they found themselves in the middle of!

“Joint Voice manifestation, when we use the phrase, is a Voice manifestation occurring in multiple people in response to the same issue with at least some overlap as far as timing goes,” Bellamy explained, “Based on these occurrences – it’s not necessarily an effect of the Hunting Rite. Best we can determine, the Rite results in a Voice manifestation in the pursuer; if that pursuer has people they are working with and intend to accompany them in pursuit, like myself with Kir during that first usage, there is… an opportunity, for them to join that Voice manifestation.

“The Voice, manifest in Kir, specifically invited me to join in that first hunt,” the Enforcer continued bluntly, “While I didn’t exactly have the presence of mind to verbally accept the invitation, I did accept it, and only then manifested the Voice myself.”

“And this time, we very much intended for Anur to go alone, or at least not for me to accompany him,” the Incendiary continued before anyone could do more than gape at his Enforcer for speaking so matter of factly about having the Voice directly speak to him, “However, the first joint Voice manifestation resulted in a mental link between the two of us that started as a general awareness of mental state and location. I am unsure if the fact it has gotten considerably more nuanced over the past year and change is due to our increased use of mindspeech between one another and reliance upon that mental link on our own missions or a natural progression of that initially formed link.”

“Which is very much a concern for future use,” Anur said pointedly, focusing on the Justicars and most certainly noting the startled looks and twitches at Kir’s matter-of-fact reference to their shared Talent, for all neither of them acknowledged those reactions, “If a Justicar uses this with some Sunsguard around and those Sunsguard are intended to assist in the arrest at the end of the hunt, they could very well end up with that mental link between however many of them are involved. We both already had mindspeech, so at least weren’t entirely unused to feeling or hearing other people with our minds, but it is a very distinct and potentially frightening and potentially permanent sensation, leaving aside the possibility of it getting stronger over time.”

“Another possibility is that it is less intent based and more due to the fact Anur is my Enforcer,” Kir allowed, looking distinctly sympathetic at the vaguely disturbed expressions on the Justicars’ faces. On most faces Ulrich could see, and he suspected was on his own; he was somewhat used to Honored Hansa speaking to him, the Council was well-aware that the Incendiary and his Enforcer could mindspeak to one another on top of that, but the idea of having someone else always there was...

Well. Distinct and actually frightening seemed to cover it.

“But seeing as the only way to find that out is for someone to conduct this Rite with others intending to join in pursuit without them being a Firestarter-Enforcer pair, that isn’t worth counting on,” Kir said, continuing, “Also, due to that mental awareness, if a Hunting Rite is conducted again by one of those involved, I suspect that a joint manifestation is much more likely to occur, because as odd as being constantly aware of another person’s mental presence can be, having that mental presence replaced by the Voice of Vkandis Sunlord is much worse.”

Ulrich was definitely not the only one to shudder at that idea.

“Precisely,” the Incendiary said, bone dry, concluding more briskly, “For the most recent usage, after the Oathbreaker was caught and Their focus was intent on once-Bertrand, I could actually think straight, which led to me realizing the Oathbreaker’s trapped bracelets and the like would undoubtedly continue to claim innocent lives even with him caught. Perhaps especially with him caught, considering one of the known victims had a lethal-to-remove bracelet and if any others with similar traps caught word of the Voice capturing him, what reason would they have to think themselves not yet free? I couldn’t think of a way mortal means could reach everyone that would need to be reached, not before someone was harmed or killed, so I – asked. For assistance. And the Voice answered.”

How exactly Ulrich was supposed to help convince this man of his own worth in the eyes of Vkandis Sunlord when he could apparently say things like that and not already believe it, he had no idea. At least Solaris’ request to word any soul-healing explanations to emphasize the burden that being a soul-healer could be, rather than the blessed solace one could find in helping people in this way, made quite a bit more sense now.

Hopefully someday the Incendiary would find that solace easier to discuss. Viewing gifts as burdens was exhausting, regardless of how much they ended up actually weighing.

=pagebreak=

Snow had started falling again by the time the lecture-turned-discussion ended. When Justicar Jeryl set out after their more cloistered and fortunately brief conversation, it was already ankle-deep. Unusual for Sunhame, from what Kir remembered; cold winters, yes, but not much snow. They were just lucky that night before last hadn’t been as chill as this one promised to be – Valerik had most definitely not been dressed for enduring this sort of cold for an entire night.

Henrik had led Descending tonight, and kept it blessedly short. Even better, with papers scattered all over the main hall’s tables they’d retreated to the kitchen for tonight’s shared meal. The kitchen was far warmer. And as they were seated on benches, no one could stare too hard if he leaned most of his weight against Anur – Kir was tired, and there was nothing else for him to lean against besides the table itself. Nothing more.

Justicar Jeryl had asked him if he wished to preside over the Oathbreaker and Vars’ eventual burnings, and offered to schedule it around his own presence in Sunhame. Hopefully his pause before declining the offer had been taken as polite consideration, and not a desperate few seconds of swallowing bile.

That offer – the way it had been made, as if the Justicar was offering him some sort of thanks, some sort of favor in exchange for agreeing to leaving that damnably long list of names to the Justicars – it had made eating dinner far more difficult than it needed to be. He had never experienced any sort of hunger at burnings, though to be fair he had always eaten at least a ration bar before burnings partially because of Colbern’s infamous and traumatizing lecture, but the honestly excellent seared fish had been very poorly timed. It wasn’t the entirely-different scent, but the very sight of char marks, knowing the source of the texture –

At least Kari had gotten a good meal out of it, the Cat’s meeting with Captain Marghi had started in the midst of testimony gathering and not finished until Descending, and whatever he had found out had left him very agitated. He hesitated to ask just what Kari had found out that was so worrying, but Kir would have to eventually.

Perhaps not in the midst of or right before eating, he thought wryly, scratching the Firecat behind the ears and managing a smile in face of a platter of spice cake pieces being passed to Anur with a teasing remark that his brother couldn’t claim more than two pieces for himself. He shook his head at his brother’s raised eyebrow and leaned back slightly so the dish could be passed to Rodri. He had tried passing along a serving platter at the beginning of this dinner and the only reason it hadn’t been dropped entirely was because Anur managed to help him get it across with Fetching. No one seemed to have noticed that, but they had definitely noticed Anur avoiding passing him anything for the rest of the meal.

:You should eat some spice cake,: Kari said pointedly, :Since you fed me half of your very delicious fish.:

Anur evidently heard, and deposited one of his pieces of spice cake in front of Kir.

:I will wait till you try and say something and stuff it in your mouth,: Anur said pointedly.

:And then I’ll choke,: Kir retorted.

:And then I’ll panic, and really, none of us will win, so you should just eat some spice cake,: Anur replied, far too smug for the topic at hand.

Rolling his eyes, he broke a piece of spice cake off and ate it, relieved that his hands weren’t at risk of shaking anymore. The banter had helped. It usually did. The spice cake was also exceptionally good, though he was certainly no expert.

:I added asking Solaris about changing default mechanisms of execution outside of blood mages and similar cleansings to hanging or beheading or something to our list. Won’t be something adjusted anytime soon, but perhaps someday,: Anur admitted quietly, certainly able to guess why Kari had ended up eating most of Kir’s fish.

:It’s worth asking about,: Kir said, giving Kari one last stroke before the Cat slipped away and headed for Maltin’s end of the table. Kir wasn’t entirely sure what having ‘a bit of a panic’ looked like for the student, but he was definitely going to need to pull him aside at some point this Conclave – with Kavrick in tow, to avoid launching a proper panic on accident.

:This spice cake - : he deflected, only for Anur to seize on the topic with a startling level of glee.

:It’s amazing isn’t it?! Hansa reached out and said Solaris said that she votes for this and if I disagree I’m wrong but I don’t disagree this is definitely the best the spices are so good and the texture is perfect and there’s this ginger-sugar blend for crunch on top and -:

“Budget discussion tonight, right?” Kir asked, knowing his tone was a little more desperate than the question warranted but there was only so much spice cake ranting he could take.

“Right,” Jaina agreed, offering Fabron a smile and murmured thanks when he refilled her mug before continuing, “Though to be frank, you’ve been checking the numbers with me all year, I think we can wrap that up between the two of us during a one-on-one tomorrow and summarize for the group that evening, and then the projected budget going forward can be a future projects’ discussion day after tomorrow, unless anyone has an expense they want to last-minute add to this year’s numbers?”

By the dire look she was sending everyone, their answer was very much supposed to be no.

Valerik coughed.

“Valerik, you are kidding,” Jaina groaned while the rest of them at least snickered.

“Not sure if this is a past year or next year thing,” he admitted, hesitating before focusing on Kir and Anur as he asked, “Way I understand being an Enforcer, there’s some sort of trial year where the person is paid the stipend for that period, then at the end of a year they say yay or nay as far as accepting the position going forwards?”

“Yes,” Kir agreed slowly.

“What are the thoughts on giving Garth Nolans that stipend? I’m not – I don’t need an Enforcer,” Valerik said quickly, “This is more – he has given Sunhame and our Order an invaluable service, and offering that trial year as a means of giving him some form of financial thanks for his assistance and apologies for the hardship he’s faced over the years due to our inability to police the priesthood and find the Oathbreaker as we should have – it seemed a way to do it. Backdate it, maybe, so it’s before his discharge?”

“No backdating,” Kir said firmly, “We are not perpetuating fraud.”

:No more than is already in the system, at least,: Anur commented wryly.

:That was not fraud, Chosen. All the paperwork is in place somewhere and properly filled out, even, it’s just – an exceptionally impossible idea,: Aelius said.

:It has to be illegal to offer a position of authority to an enemy head of state,: Kir retorted, :It has to be.:

:Still not fraud, though,: Aelius insisted.

“Backdating would definitely be fraud,” Kir said firmly.

The conversation that had been flowing around them paused, Fabron the one to ask, “Was that… in doubt?”

“No, it was – different thing,” Kir winced, because if he was slipping like that he was certainly far too distracted or tired or both to make any reasonably well informed decision, “Apologies. I am more than comfortable with the idea of offering Garth Nolans a position as Enforcer with the understanding he is under no obligation to seriously consider the offer, however, Valerik, it might be worth thinking on if that offer is something you do actually want to extend to him in all seriousness. For one thing it might be a useful example of a Firestarter-Enforcer relationship that isn’t our overly codependent mess.”

“I’m quite fond of our overly codependent mess,” Anur sniffed.

“I am too, that’s why it exists, but I can also say that it leaves people with a very skewed understanding of what a Firestarter-Enforcer pair has to be,” Kir retorted.

“I’ll think it over,” Valerik said cautiously, “Which I suppose will push me into next year, as far as the budget goes.”

“Likely, yes,” Kir said, offering Jaina a faint smile, “So, no last minute additions to the budget report.”

“The ideal outcome,” Jaina agreed, stirring honey into her tea, “Though, Valerik, I think being Enforcer is somehow entertwined with being in the Sunsguard, so you’d best research that before speaking to Garth Nolans, because I have no idea how his once-employment in the guard is going to work out.”

“Ugh, that’s right,” Valerik grimaced, “Any chance he can get approved as an Enforcer without being in the Sunsguard already?”

“Actually, related thing – are Enforcers actually members of the Sunsguard?” Etrius asked, wincing when Anur raised an eyebrow and made a speaking gesture at his uniform, “That was unclear, apologies. I mean – according to what we’ve found, Enforcers are members of the Firestarting Order first, with their Sunsguard responsibilities and the like second. It’s a full reassignment and transfer, from what I understand.”

“Not necessarily a transfer,” Anur said dryly, exchanging a wry look with Kir, “I wasn’t exactly in the Sunsguard before Kir instated me. One of the Sergeants drilled me for marks on proper salutes. So to answer your question, Valerik, Nolans can definitely get approved as an Enforcer without being in the Sunsguard already. I’m pretty sure Kir wrote ‘beekeeper’ on my paperwork.”

“I put translator, as you very well know,” Kir retorted, not properly paying attention to his brother’s banter because Jaina looked surprised. Of everyone here, she should know what the paperwork had said.

“Jaina, who in all the frosted hells signed off on that instatement paperwork?” Kir demanded.

Jaina was staring at him, looking more than a little bewildered, which was honestly infuriating.

“Kir,” she said slowly, “You are the Eldest.”

“What?” he asked, waving it off, “Yes, obviously. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I have nothing to do with approving Enforcers,” she said carefully, “That’s the responsibility of the Eldest. Of you.”

“Wait, what?” Anur choked, “I’m sorry, are you saying that – since he’s the Eldest, he can just – sign off on whoever he wants to be an Enforcer and it will just be – automatically approved?”

“Practically speaking, yes,” Jaina shrugged, “It’s one of the few things that the Eldest retained authority over when the position of Incendiary was created – before that the Eldest was always the leader of the Order.”

Just as well she knew the answer, because Kir wasn’t exactly capable of speech right now, and Anur was about one more word from busting his gut laughing.

“So much for figuring out why no one responded to your reports,” Anur wheezed, before finally succumbing.

“Were you… not expecting your request to be approved?” Laskaris asked warily.

“I expected Anur’s to pass, it was legitimate,” Kir said to his hands, “The second one was… very obviously not. I hadn’t heard anything in response to my reports on blood magic, of which I had sent many, so I thought to… provoke a response. By filing for two Enforcers, one of which was Anur and one of which was an obviously unacceptable offer, and thought I’d at least get some form of response back and have an idea of where to address my concerns going forward.”

“Well I only ever received your end of year summary reports and the acceptance of the offered position that Anur filled out, though that was sent in with a summary report so that likely doesn’t count as something different,” Jaina said frankly, “And while you mentioned blood magic out of Hardorn in the last few of those reports, it sounds as though you were expecting us to receive others?”

“…does this mean you never got my detailed report of the lothga incident?” Kir asked, feeling more than a little bewildered, and it wasn’t helped at all by Rodri answering him.

“They didn’t,” Rodri said, “Loshern’s the one who introduced me to Father Kavrick, he said he’d never heard details. Didn’t even know I’d been involved in it until Loshern brought it up.”

“Then who got those reports?” Anur asked.

By the mostly blank looks, no one had any more of an idea than they did. The one exception was Colbern, who looked deep in thought.

“Colbern?” Kir prompted hopefully.

“I think it has something to do with being a chaplain,” Colbern said slowly, brow furrowed, “I remember there was something odd about getting my reports filed properly when I was a chaplain, but I can’t quite remember what it was. I kept notes about it… somewhere. Probably.”

“That’s right, we had to reshuffle circuits so there could be handoffs or something like that,” Seras said, frowning, “Though wasn’t there something odd with your being a necromancer in that region too?”

“There was,” Colbern grimaced, before nodding to them and saying, “I’ll look at my records, Seras’ too, between us we should be able to figure it out. Worst come to worst we can track down another chaplain and ask them if they know anything.”

“I would appreciate it,” Kir admitted frankly, “At this point it’s more frustrated curiosity than anything, though the fact that none of my reports made it anywhere they could be acted upon is… deeply concerning. That could have gone very badly, though fortunately it didn’t.”

“Fortunately,” Jaina echoed, “I can’t think of anything Armand said either, though he didn’t tell me a lot, to be honest.”

“So if you weren’t in the Sunsguard, and your options were beekeeper or translator, what exactly did you do?” Fabron asked slowly, retaking his seat between Lumira and Etrius, “You – there was that investigation, you said, in Sunbeam Brook on the Eldest’s behalf.”

Anur’s mental presence promptly took on a mischievous tone that left Kir staring at his cider and wishing his headache had subsided enough for him to add some prodka to it.

:Anur, if you are actually about to discuss your nationality right now I will cry.:

:Don’t be silly, that would be far too much drama, but a little nudge or two…:

:Yes because that’s less drama,: Aelius grumbled, Kir knowing that Aelius, at least, understood him.

:Why do we do this to ourselves, Aelius?: Kir asked mournfully, ignoring Anur’s increasingly exaggerated offended expression.

:Because we like suffering,: Aelius replied promptly.

“Rude!” Anur squawked, Kir cackling.

“I’m assuming that isn’t in response to Fabron’s question,” Jaina said dryly.

“No,” Anur said, shaking his head and not explaining at all, “To put it bluntly, I did a lot of things, some of which involved getting Talented kids across the border. Sunbeam Brook was one such.”

:You are a terrible person,: Kir said, feeling reluctantly impressed regardless at the way Anur never actually lied.

:You love me.:

:Sunlord help me.:

:Excuse you, Sunlord help me,: Aelius griped.

:That’s fair, you have to deal with both of us,: Kir conceded.

:Ahem. Who is it, exactly, that serves as the emergency escape plan for all three of you?: Kari asked archly.

“Needless to say,” Anur continued blithely, “Running into a Firestarter and not immediately getting executed was rather memorable. Valerik, while Nolans doesn’t need to be in the Sunsguard to be an Enforcer, that title automatically comes with the rank of Lieutenant in the Sunsguard, unless the individual is already in the Sunsguard and has a higher rank than that.”

“That is true,” Kir allowed, telling Valerik, “Which is likely worth mentioning, particularly since I don’t know how that might affect his appeal.”

“Good point,” Valerik grimaced, “I’ll extend the offer with all the caveats and likely end up having to ask one of the Justicars for details about how it might affect his appeal. Thank you for the explanation.”

“Happy to help, and if this doesn’t work out for getting the Nolans’ siblings aid, we should figure something else out because we definitely do owe them a debt as an Order,” Kir said.

There was a brief silence, before Henrik finally sighed heavily and said, “Eldest. You can’t say something like ‘obviously unacceptable offer’ and not elaborate. Besides, someone clearly read your paperwork and filed it and sent back an approval for the initial offer so someone out there actually agreed with whatever absurd thing you had written or at least just didn’t want to argue it.”

“Hmm. Someone dead?” Seras guessed.

“A woman, obviously female name, maybe prior profession of midwife or something equally gendered,” Lumira suggested.

“Oh I like that one – but I’m guessing a story-figure, someone who never existed,” Laskaris said.

“Vanyel Demon-Rider,” Colbern countered, prompting scoffs that rapidly turned to spit-takes when Kir winced.

“You did not,” Jaina asked, aghast.

“Not him specifically,” Kir grumbled.

“Lumira’s actually the most right,” Anur said, sounding absolutely gleeful, “Under the name, he wrote ‘Selenay Sendarsi’, and for previous profession he wrote Witch-Queen of the North.”

“Someone approved that?!”

“You see why I was surprised!”

“They signed off on what?!”

“So you don’t need to be in the Sunsguard to be an Enforcer, interesting…”

“Devin!”

“It’d get me access to the libraries! If I picked the right Firestarter, it could work!”

“…I’m not telling Elisia.”

Chapter Text

Bron could breathe. His son could breathe, and he didn’t need to fear every sniffle, every tired morning or admission of a headache and spend marks wondering what he had done wrong or what he was going to be oh so politely asked to do next. He’d never again come home to find Bretta unable to keep even water down, Vars having come by to tell her all about the things Bron had done with their son’s life on the line. With her life on the line, before Gari had come along.

Marrying her had been the most selfish thing he had ever done.

Gari was humming one of the tunes from tonight’s service, swinging their joined hands as they walked and so heartbreakingly happy.

His first natural sickness was going to be a nightmare all around; hopefully it was a milder one. All of them were going to be nervous wrecks.

Though at least they might have others to help them through. Proper friendships had been impossible to maintain, the best they’d managed were some friendly acquaintances. Now though, they might have a chance to build some of those up – or rebuild those they’d let lapse. Bretta especially; he’d at least had the general camaraderie of the Guard, even if Darius had made it impossible to actually trust anyone in uniform.

Or anyone at all, really.

He could trust his new Captain – for now – and he could trust the Nolans siblings – until he couldn’t – and he could trust his wife – always. Already a far longer list than a couple of days ago.

Bretta was laughing at something Maude had said, the two women walking arm in arm in front of him and Gari, leading the way back from the alehouse they’d all gone to for dinner after Descending. Garth had bowed out, saying something about being exhausted still, but Bron was willing to bet the man also wanted to get the hell away from the staring. He sympathized entirely; if Bretta wasn’t so blindingly happy at being able to accept Maude’s invitation without a second thought he’d have been tempted to do the same.

Perhaps he should say so, if Garth was still up. Undoubtedly he’d be awake, waiting to make sure Maude had made it back, but he could pretend to be asleep the entire time so she wouldn’t fuss at him for fretting. Bron and Bretta had acted out the same routine more than a few times over the years, though as they shared a bed faking sleep had been a bit of a challenge.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bretta,” Maude was scoffing, pulling Bretta with her up the stoop of her home, “Or I’ll send spice cake to you the roundabout way.”

“I don’t exactly have an out of town visitor you can pawn spice cake off on to give to me,” Bretta retorted, but didn’t offer any more protests about coming in for tea and pastries. Just as well, if they’d left without the aforementioned treats Gari would pull out his best doleful look and Bron’s heart really couldn’t take that today.

“Oh she’s going to be so mad,” Maude cackled, opening the door and adding sternly, “That had better be one of the defect cakes!”

“As if I would offer Nico anything else,” Garth’s voice called back, whoever was with him giving an offended squawk. The name seemed familiar, and when Bron actually caught a glimpse of the card-playing pair, the recognition was immediate.

“I brought you fancy alcohol!” the locksmith protested, indicating a certainly fancy looking set of bottles sitting on the main room’s one table.

“Supposedly fancy,” Garth scoffed, discarding a card and selecting another, “Not like you’ve actually let us drink any yet. Could be swill in shiny bottles.”

“Would I do that to you?”

“Yes,” the Nolans siblings chorused.

“Okay, I would,” the man admitted, Bron taking Gari and Bretta’s coats to hang on the pegs Maude pointed out, “But only to Garth! And not for a day like today. Senior Lieutenant.”

Huffing, Bron returned the nod of greeting and offered, “It’s just Bron. Especially for this group. Bretta, I don’t know if you remember, but this is the locksmith that brought Captain Marghi down on Darius. Master Nico, my wife Bretta, and our son Garrick.”

“Just Gari is fine,” his boy insisted, before darting after Bretta and Maude to offer help doing… whatever they were doing. Likely something with tea, since it looked like Garth had already snagged a not-quite sell-able spice cake for the table. A kettle was already steaming on the stove, so it must be a quest for mugs.

“Maude said the illnesses were induced?” Garth asked lowly, Bron hesitating before sitting down next to him.

“They were. Most of them, at least,” Bron admitted. “Sounds like he got cleared of spellwork with those golden flames.”

“Mortal justice remains,” Nico quoted, narrowing his eyes before finally laying his cards down face-up. Garth smirked and laid his definitely superior hand down next, the locksmith cursing under his breath as he gathered the cards and started shuffling. “You want to be dealt in? Just playing to play. Mostly because the few times I win against this ja – erk, I’m pretty sure he lets it happen out of pity.”

“Seems likely,” Bron agreed, deciding not to mention the crease marks on the cards that were far too regular to not be intentional, “Sure. And getting that mortal justice worked out completely is going to be a mess and a half, but at least Darius is caught.”

“Never felt right to ask,” Garth said, snagging a piece of cake, “But I knew Gari called him uncle. He actually your kin or was that just something he demanded Gari do?”

“Cousin I was raised with,” Bron said, voice tight as he watched Nico start dealing, “He insisted on calling me brother, some days.”

“Tracks. Thought it was funny to twist things like that,” Garth muttered, “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No more talking about him,” Bretta said firmly, setting mugs on the table after Maude poured hot water over the sachets they’d picked out. It was spice-tea, of course. Nothing else would do, this time of year. “Not unless we’re talking about how he’s caught. But no talking about things he did or what he got away with over the years. Not tonight.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nico agreed, waving a hand at the bottles Gari was examining curiously, kneeling in the chair next to Bron so he had a better view, “One of those is to share tonight, with five of us drinking it might not even go to waste at all. Other one is to get passed onto that Captain of yours.”

“I’m not giving it,” Bron said flatly, glancing at his cards and tipping them so Gari could look too. His son had an appallingly good face for cards at his age, but even if he didn’t, they weren’t playing for anything. “Man deserves the thanks, but not with any chance of it being thought of as a bribe. We can’t afford that sort of thing now.”

“That’s why I brought it to Garth,” Nico shrugged, rolling his eyes either in response to that or whatever his hand was, “So he could tell me the best way to deliver it without giving anyone the chance to gossip. Thanks Maude.”

“Best I can figure is Nico gifting it as a thanks for listening,” Garth said, tapping his cards against the table before tossing one down and taking another, “Don’t know the whole story, hadn’t gotten it yet, but sounds like you flagged him down and offered verbal claims, and he followed? Seems strange he didn’t try and grab any reinforcements.”

“I should have asked if he wanted them,” Nico grimaced, exchanging a glance with Bron that definitely meant he wasn’t the only one remembering Vars’ horrifying claims of a witch-powered assault nearly killing the Captain and the Captain very much not denying it. The Captain staring blank-eyed at a gleaming blade moving far too close to his throat and calling those nooses he kept making threats to himself.

“I’m not an active investigator on these cases, can’t be until my own case has been judged. But I got word today that I’ve been cleared to go through every report I ever signed off on and correct them if they were modified at all, or at least flag them as not accurate if I can’t remember what’s supposed to be there,” Bron said, snagging a new card of his own and taking care to cover as much of the backs of his cards as possible without being too obvious about it, “Plan to go in tomorrow and start on that. I’m going to ask the Captain if he could brief at least some of the Shift Leads. Don’t have the manpower to send someone after him all the time, but it’d be something.”

“You mean the lack of reinforcements wasn’t intentional on his part?” Garth asked carefully.

“Wasn’t conscious, don’t think,” Nico grimaced, exchanging cards for a plate as he passed the spice cake platter over to Maude and Bretta. Completing his turn, he glanced Bron’s way again and quirked an eyebrow.

He shrugged, guessing what the man was after, “I told Bretta everything.”

“According to Vars’ taunting, so take it with some salt, but according to him, Captain Marghi left the banditry units because he was attacked by someone with a witch-power – “

“Talent,” Garth corrected, cards switching out smoothly.

“…Garth. This person nearly got a man to kill himself. That’s definitely witchy,” Nico said flatly.

“I carry knives. That doesn’t in itself mean I’m a murderer,” Garth replied dryly, “Talent.”

“Besides, sounds like the person in question was insane, not malicious,” Bron added, remembering that exchange with a clarity he doubted would ever go away. He’d been half out of his mind with panic, trying to figure out what he should do and who he should back and how he could possibly live with himself afterwards: of course he’d remember it.

Gari tapped one of his cards and he shrugged, discarding that one was as good a move as any, his hand was truly mediocre.

“All right, all right. Attacked by someone with a Talent that almost got him to kill himself. And by the way he was eyeing that knife after the take down there were side effects,” Nico grimaced, making his own discard almost immediately, “So. Don’t know if he consciously decided to not get reinforcements or ask about getting them first, or if he just… couldn’t think of it.”

“Huh,” Garth said, eyeing his cards before shrugging and saying, “Pass. Any truth in those gossips about the making hobbles into nooses?”

“He did. Described it yesterday as not a threat to anyone but himself,” Bron shuddered, letting Gari pick the next discard too and rather pleased with how his last card ended up working for him.

“Well that’s horrifying,” Maude muttered, exchanging a loaded look with her brother before very deliberately changing the topic, “All right, these bottles the same? Should I open one up? Not that we have enough cups for tea and booze.”

“I brought glasses,” Nico said, making his last move before ducking under the table to pull a cloth-wrapped stack of glasses out of whatever bag he’d brought, “Well. I brought three glasses. Siblings and spouses share?”

“Fair enough to me,” Bretta agreed, reading the gold-leaf painted labels on the bottles with wide eyes, “How on earth did you get your hands on Iftelen ice-wine? Especially with the Hardornen caravan routes so irregular?”

“Is that what it is?” Nico asked guilelessly, grunting when someone, likely Garth, kicked him under the table and elaborating, “One of my first jobs as an officially apprenticed locksmith was a discreet sort of errand in a noble’s Sunhame home. Probably got it as a raw apprentice because the work was finicky and the discretion requirement was against the noble, job was from his daughter.”

“Oh shit that was your first job?” Garth blurted, offering his sister a narrow blade to puncture the seal, “I had no idea that smithy even took those kind of contracts.”

“That was the idea,” Nico sniffed, looking rightfully smug, “I obviously managed to do my usual stellar work and not get murdered. Couple weeks after the job was finished the servant who’d come in to offer the contract met me on my way home and offered the bottles as a sincere thanks for excellent work, courtesy the lady in question. Been saving them for a special occasion, and a Midwinter’s evening with Vars locked away and his sponsor as good as dead and their whole network getting torn into something fierce seemed the perfect chance.”

“Dad?” Gari asked hopefully.

“You can try some,” Bron agreed, because Sunlord knew his son was likely never going to get a chance to taste Iftelen ice-wine again. Almost a shame, he’d heard ice-wine was on the sweeter side, but it’d undoubtedly taste like alcohol, and Gari was a little too young to be able to appreciate that bite.

“I’ll keep my hand as is,” Garth decided, laying his cards down and prompting the others. Eh. Bron hadn’t done terribly. The loser this round was Nico.

“I swear I’m not terrible at this,” Nico griped, setting out the three glasses in front of Maude while Garth stacked his deck and set it aside in favor of another bit of spice cake, “I swear I know how to play cards.”

“Think I’ll be avoiding games of chance the rest of my life,” Bron admitted wryly, exchanging a smile with Bretta, who was the very definition of a dice master, “Burned through all my good luck this season.”

“Hear hear,” Garth agreed, laughing ruefully, “Hopefully have a little luck stored up for my appeal happening sometime soon, but even if that falls through, I’ll take what I’ve got this season.”

“It won’t,” Bron said, one voice of three.

Blinking, he exchanged a startled glance with Nico before they both turned to Maude.

The woman raised an eyebrow at them as she poured pale gold liquid into surprisingly clear glasses, saying briskly, “If it falls through which it won’t, Jana and Val will hear of it, and between them and their younger brother, I think we can raise enough hell to get you an appeal.”

“Captain Marghi said he’d file paperwork to fast track your appeal before I even got to tell him about Vars,” Nico admitted, “Just said your appeal had been denied and he said he’d do that.”

“He told me last evening he’d already filed it,” Garth admitted, sounding more than a little stunned still. “Ran into him at the temple, when I was picking up the stack of papers I’d stored with Father Cyril.”

“I was basing my statement on the Captain too,” Bron said, eyeing Maude and finally giving in to curiosity and asking, “Maude, what does Val and Jana’s younger brother have to do with anything? The Captain mentioned something about targeting Val being the Oathbreaker’s big mistake in all this because of his family – Vars thought he was talking about Jana, but would he have been talking about this brother instead?”

“Probably,” Maude admitted, passing glasses to Nico and Bretta and keeping one for herself, exchanging a wry look with her own brother as she said, “Though Jana sounded pretty dangerous herself in the station yesterday.”

“Oh yes, I think everyone heard that response,” Nico cackled, “Damn, I’d heard stories and thought they were exaggerated but maybe she really did kick open a pirate press-gang ring to track her brother down.”

“She did,” Garth and Bron chorused ruefully. It was a very memorable set of events, after all.

“Younger brother is more of a new connection though,” Garth said, hesitating before finally offering, “Let’s just say Val was able to call on a Firecat for help thanks to this brother of his, and go from there, shall we?”

“A Firecat?” Bretta choked.

“I met, and spoke with, two Firecats yesterday, watched actual Walkers help dismantle that trap, witnessed two halves of what they were calling a joint Voice manifestation, saw a Hunting Rite that even the priests all thought was a long-lost story, testified under a truth compulsion placed on me by one of those Firecats, traveled twice with that disappearing and reappearing in fire thing Firecats can definitely actually do, and somehow the weirdest thing about the whole day was an Enforcer telling me I reminded him of his Firestarter and me being half-convinced it’s a compliment,” Garth said.

“Almost as dramatic as Captain Marghi’s summary,” Nico said, voice definitely strangled. Better than Bron, he wasn’t actually able to say anything, because he had thought his day had been insane.

His day had been absolutely placid.

“Well, to dramatic days, in all the best ways,” Maude proposed, raising her glass. Bretta laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard in far too long yet had heard so many times in the past day and a half, and clinked her glass against Maude and Nico’s.

“Oh wow, this is amazing,” Bretta breathed, passing her glass to Bron, who took a sniff and then sipped it himself. Extraordinarily sweet, especially in comparison to the sorts of wine he usually drank, and dangerously smooth. Not smooth enough for Gari to mistake it as something he should be drinking easily though, so that was a relief.

“Lives up to the chatter, that’s for certain,” he agreed, Garth humming agreement next to him. Passing his glass to Gari, he told his son, “A sip or two is all. But would you like to give a toast?”

Gari eyed the wine, smelling it himself before nodding firmly and leaning forward to raise his glass, “To mortal justice.”

“Now there’s a toast for the season,” Nico grinned, and Bron couldn’t disagree. Mugs and glasses all raised, they chorused, “To mortal justice!”

=pagebreak=

Tristan wanted to scream. This entire blasted season was conspiring against him at this point, he hadn’t had so many separate episodes of losing his words in one day in years, if ever. Working on the shield necklaces with Fabron and Lumira had been positively restorative, and the fact that their tests had shown that they not only worked as intended against mindspeech, according to Kari, they worked against the bone-aching chill that he so very deeply loathed? He had honestly been ecstatic.

The Eldest and his Enforcer had ducked out after the ridiculous paperwork mishap story exchange they had prompted – he had heard Colbern’s rueful tale of the time his requisition for cat bones had resulted in getting a basket of living kittens he’d had to find good homes for so many times, but it was still hilarious – stating they would be in the Incendiary’s office making arrangements for their own tests of the shield-amulets. Tristan didn’t doubt they were in fact doing that, but they had also had Kari tell him to come up whenever he could to have their planned discussion.

So he had plotted it all out – he would help with testing and then volunteer to relay the results, and if he happened to stay longer than a simple relay, well, he just got caught up chatting or asking technical questions. Nothing to be concerned about or worthy of notice.

Then the tests had succeeded beyond what he’d dared hope for, and he’d had good news to pass along. Something positive to start an undoubtedly hard conversation. It was perfect!

And then he had overheard Holiness Valerik tease Colbern about his absurd standards for terrifying women, citing his meetings with Liljan and Yelena as examples. By Elya’s Grace his once mentor had been subtle, asking how he could have possibly met Yelena and getting the answer that she’d been in the Hall just yesterday to heal him, and would even be coming back in the next day or two to follow up, wasn’t that nice.

The necklaces had worked. He’d thought he could stay.

Kari brushed against his side, looking distinctly worried, and he exhaled shakily. He hated his mind, some days. He hated his tongue almost every day.

Rapping on the office door, he heard the murmur of voices cut off before the Enforcer called, “Door’s open!”

He stepped in, knowing he was visibly distressed by the way both their Order’s leaders focused more intently on him and hating it. He forced himself to walk up to the Eldest’s desk, the man’s letter looking like it was mostly done and the salutation that would name the recipient almost certainly deliberately covered by a blotting cloth, and offered Lumira’s version of the shield-amulet.

“Thank you,” the Eldest said, accepting it with only a glance before putting it aside and focusing on him again, “Let me finish this paragraph and we can talk. Go ahead and take a seat, we’ll join you shortly.”

“Would you like some tea?” the Enforcer offered right after, Tristan hearing the kettle on the stove start to hiss. He couldn’t answer right now. He literally couldn’t answer, and he couldn’t bear it, and he hated this so very much.

Forcing himself to walk to a chair, to sit down, he could practically hear his bones creaking as he gripped the arms of the chair he’d chosen. Kari rested a paw on his knee, asking quietly, :May I?:

The Hall was never the sort of cold that left him close-throated and terrified, but it could still be cold. He needed all the help he could get.

He must have nodded. He hadn’t said anything, and Kari was settling in his lap and so very warm.

“Tristan?” he heard, flinching as he realized he had no idea what the question had been. What had he been asked? Right. Kettle hissing. Tea.

He needed to sleep soon, so his favorite was out. Lemon-ginger could be nice.

He couldn’t say it. He was safe here, he was as safe as he’d ever been, he literally had a Firecat in his lap and he couldn’t say it –

“Tristan,” he heard, he saw, and his gaze snapped over to the Eldest, who was standing and signing as he spoke, saying, “Tristan, if Ari’s Tongue is easier for you we can have our entire discussion in it, though I must ask you to be patient with me. I haven’t had much chance to practice and we may have to resort to spelling things out, depending on topic.”

The Eldest lowered himself onto the small sofa across from him, and Tristan could think again. Mostly because he had no idea what to think. But Ari’s Tongue he could manage. He had to be a lot further gone to not be able to manage finger-spelling, so he carefully spelled out his tea choice and the Eldest nodded, relaying, “Lemon-ginger, Anur.”

“Great minds think alike, I was just making that for us,” the Enforcer said, filling a third sachet with the blend he was using before snagging the kettle.

They were all quiet and still, or perhaps mindspeaking where Tristan had no chance of perceiving it. The Enforcer soon deposited their mugs and claimed his own seat by the Eldest and very obviously had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to look. They really had talked to Fabron, then, for the Enforcer to be so clearly trying to figure out how to acknowledge they were speaking to each other and follow Fabron’s well meaning advice to avoid looking at him for too long.

He’d really have to tell Fabron to stop telling people that. It was well meant, and appreciated, but it made things very awkward at times. But the man was trying. He and the Eldest had actually cared enough to even ask.

Flexing his fingers a few times, he started to sign his planned conversation opener. He had to apologize first, after all, for never saying he was a necromancer. For forgetting that it wasn’t obvious, and that the Eldest would have no way of knowing at all unless someone told him, and the other Firestarters were honestly very good about not prodding at his necromancer status unless they had absolutely no other choice. He should have realized no one would say anything.

The Eldest looked a little bemused, probably because he’d chosen the most formal of all possible sign clusters for an apology, before replying in kind and speaking aloud to echo what he was signing, “Tristan, I am not so worried about your failure to report it – we hardly crossed paths this past year. If this was a conversation taking place after this Conclave it would be a different issue, but in the past year? I think we crossed paths twice after my initial visit in Sunhame. Though now that I know of your necromancy, I have concerns I wanted to bring up outside of whatever might arise from your annual summary report.”

The Eldest’s hands hesitated sometimes, likely struggling to remember some nuance, but it was understandable, even if some of his signed-phrasings were odd. It didn’t truly matter though, the man was speaking aloud as well and Tristan’s hearing was fine. Seeing sign made it easier to use it though. Reminded him of where he was.

“What I wanted to ensure we spoke of was what you need from us to support you, I don’t know anything about necromancy and what it requires or demands, and with Colbern being the other necromancer in our Order I rather doubt you two require similar things.”

Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What he was seeing. How could they support him more? What did he require? He had people he could communicate with thanks to Ari’s Tongue no matter how lost his words got, he had a place to sleep where the bone-deep clawing chill of Karse’s dead could never reach him. What else did he need? What else could he need?

A tongue that didn’t lose words would be nice. But it was better than no tongue at all.

“Perhaps a less broad question,” the Eldest said carefully, exchanging a glance with his Enforcer before clarifying, “And of course this is not a one time only chance – if you realize later that there is something else we could do to help you, and not just with necromancy, you can ask. In person, through writing, relay via Kari, whichever mechanism is most comfortable to you. There is really only one answer I think I need urgently – well. I hope that I don’t need it urgently but fear that if I don’t receive it soon, that need will become urgent, because that’s how this winter has gone. My understanding is that of the necromancers, you are the youngest one?”

A direct question. A one word answer. That his hands could manage.

Yes.

“Then my question is whether or not you would be able to teach someone necromancy, should we come across someone with that ability. I find it rather likely that you will outlive the other two necromancers after all, and I understand the talent is rare.”

Rare, ha. Perhaps away from the Oradnels and their lists of bloodlines carrying the power they needed and their oh-so-accidentally unattended cleansing circles just waiting for someone they hadn’t already found to stumble into –

The Eldest didn’t even know. Did Her Eminence? Did anyone?

Yelena knew. She’d thought it was funny.

“I… did not catch that entirely, I’m afraid,” the Eldest said, Tristan barely managing not to flinch when he realized his hands had gotten away from him, had babbled, had perhaps been more honest than he should have been. What had he even signed?

“Not seeing a particular person, after something else about a… barracks of bones? And whoever owns those barracks? And traps or snares of some kind. Barracks I suppose is the Sunsguard meaning for something else,” the Eldest murmured, keeping his voice steady and calm and Tristan was so unspeakably jealous.

Spelling out what signs meant, that he was used to. That he could also manage. Barracks of bones was truly yard of bones was truly Boneyard. The owners of the Boneyard were the Oradnels, but that name wouldn’t be more helpful than owners or managers of the Boneyard. The person he didn’t want to see had to have been Yelena. He must have used her name sign.

He hadn’t consciously used her name sign in years. She had seemed so touched when he’d asked her to help him make one.

“The managers of the Boneyard set snares to find necromancers,” the Eldest translated, his Enforcer looking very disturbed at what he was hearing, “Healer Yelena is someone you would prefer not to speak to again.”

“Can we get some more details on that, because my imagination is going some pretty terrible places right now,” the Enforcer said, grimacing. The Eldest echoed the expression, and Tristan understood, he did, but he didn’t know what – what was needed. What he needed to say. What he could say.

Whatever he wanted. The Oradnels had no power over him.

:Tristan,: Honored Kari said, looking up at him and somehow Tristan was able to meet his eyes without feeling any of the clawing anxiety extended eye contact could give him.

Colbern had taught him to focus on eyelids instead. Liljan had rolled her eyes and told him to imagine he was staring at empty bone sockets. One of those two methods had been helpful.

:Tristan, if you need to wait, we can,: Kari promised him, likely broadcasting by the way the Eldest was emphatically signing his agreement, :If these issues are ones you’d prefer to write down and send to us that way, you can do that too. Some things are likely also purely curiosity on our part, and those things we can go without knowing, should you prefer. We don’t know enough to avoid hurting you yet, and I’m sorry.:

“We all are,” the Enforcer said, the Eldest nodding.

“Perhaps I can say what I’ve gathered so far, and the immediately relevant questions that I have,” the Eldest offered, “Necromancers are apparently not as rare as I might suspect, though trapping them sounds horrific. Two questions – first, if we did find a necromancer who needed training of some sort and you were the only in-Sunhame necromancer around, would you be capable of it or do we need to start researching other options for the long-term? Second, Healer Yelena – do we need to declare her formally unwelcome in our Hall and deny her any form of entry, or would it be sufficient to inform her and the Order that she is not to be allowed past the main hall?”

His hands stilled as the second question registered. As the Eldest showed absolutely no sign of preferring one option over the other, only sipping at his tea and waiting for Tristan to respond.

He took too long. The Eldest’s next exhale was more of a hiss, passing the mug to his Enforcer and starting to sign as he said, “Tristan, this Hall is is your home. It is only right to do as much as possible to make it a place you feel comfortable and safe. I will tell everyone and Healer Yelena that she is not to come past the main hall barring truly dire emergencies, and if I find she has abused that exception she will be declared formally unwelcome from our Hall in its entirety. If you would feel more comfortable with that second option taken from the outset, let me know. If you decide that second option is what you would prefer in a few weeks or moons or years, let me know. If there are crimes she has committed that require us to render judgment, tell me, we will investigate, and we will do our duty.”

Tristan shook his head, signing over the Eldest’s attempt to reaffirm the absolute insanity he had just said to assure them that Yelena wasn’t denouncement-worthy, wasn’t an Oathbreaker or Nameless so far as he knew, she simply – he couldn’t speak to her. She stole his voice.

“Are we… talking literally?” the Enforcer asked, scrubbing at his face and groaning, “My life is now a place where literal voice stealing is an option.”

Bizarrely, Tristan found himself grinning at the soldier’s grumbling. He had been on track to tend orchards before the dead had started dancing. He understood the sentiment entirely.

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply when he heard his own voice, feeling the tension of knowing he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t scream, leave. Knots in his spine loosened, and he could actually pick up the lemon-ginger tisane he’d been so kindly offered without feeling like he was going to fly apart at the seams.

“Not literal,” he said, grimacing when he tried to expand on it and found his words slipping away. Only somewhat back. That was fine. That was enough. Setting the mug back down after another long sip, he started signing as he spoke, since some words wouldn’t let themselves be said, saying together, “I have always lost words. Not been able to speak, when stressed, at first. Now it is – it seems more random, or at least is more sensitive. I cannot always figure out why I cannot speak, anymore. But when I encounter Yelena I cannot. Things or people that consistently cause that, I say they steal my voice.”

Exhaling slowly, he continued, saying as many words as he could manage aloud. Unsurprisingly, given the topic, more words slipped into silence as he answered the Eldest’s first question.

“I can teach control, not accidentally raising walkers. I can teach basic purification circles. I can dismantle necromancy fueled traps, or at least detect them. There are many things I can’t do, that Colbern and Liljan can. That I won’t do,” Tristan said, the entire last sentence silenced when it was the most important sentence but he couldn’t say it.

The Eldest was nodding, though. Wasn’t objecting.

“Then in the worst case, with you the only necromancer we have, you could help someone struggling with a newly woken ability for necromancy. Perhaps they will be missing some aspects of things as we try and negotiate with these… Boneyard managers, if they have any expertise, but you are capable of teaching control and it sounds like some additional safety measures, which is excellent news. Thank you for the summary. I plan to ask Colbern about these… Boneyard managers, Sunlord the sheer possibilities,” the Eldest hissed, pressing the heel of one hand against his brow and exhaling, his Enforcer watching worriedly.

Tristan could have waited. Perhaps should have. None of them were at their best. He could have waited until tomorrow.

“I would like to speak to you tomorrow, after I have a chance to think things through,” the Eldest finally said, “There is that designated time for me to speak to everyone on an individual basis and I plan to take advantage of it. But if the topics we are discussing ever become too much, let me know, we can delay things or work around them as best we can, as Kari said.”

Tristan signed agreement, but knew that it wouldn’t be possible to do that all the time. Emergencies were emergencies, after all.

“Holiness Colbern knows the bargains better than I,” Tristan said, actually able to say all the words which – was heartening. There had been a few moons where even the thought of his once-mentor’s name had stolen his voice.

His mentor had tried. They had both tried.

“If he writes them down, I can. Remember them,” Tristan offered, his voice wavering but not slipping away this time, not vanishing entirely, “If he. Lives.”

Breathe. Take a sip of lemon-ginger tisane. Bask in the warmth of the room, of Kari’s presence, of the shield-amulet. Breathe again.

“The next necromancer – there will be one. The bargains. If they arrive before Holiness Colbern’s death, he can teach those advanced skills,” Tristan said with hands and tongue, “He cannot be a mentor. A teacher, an instructor, yes. A mentor, never. I cannot either. Not. Anytime soon. Maybe someday.”

“Understood, and agreed,” the Eldest said, looking thoughtful and exchanging a long look with his Enforcer before saying, “As for you being a mentor someday – it is your choice, of course. But I would suggest working with another mentor-student pair, as Lumira and Laskaris seem to have worked jointly with Fabron, before you consider that step. It would give you a chance to see if that relationship is one you want at all, without being committed to it one way or another.”

Tristan smiled faintly, voice clear as he said, “Henrik has already agreed to it, whenever he finds a student. Holinesses Kavrick and Valerik have a similar joint-mentorship agreement, for Henrik and now Maltin.”

“It certainly seems more successful than one mentor to four students,” the Eldest said dryly, obviously thinking of his own situation as one of a now half-dead quartet under long-dead Verius. Something seemed to occur to him, leaning forward a bit as he asked, sounding honestly curious, “May I ask what your test was, for the shielding necklace? Lumira mentioned that you and Fabron had teamed up to make one and had your own tests. If this is something you prefer not to discuss, I understand, but I am curious as to the variations Lumira said there was evidence of.”

Tristan leaned back in his chair, slipping his hands up his sleeves and feeling the reassuring presence of his buffering blades. He knew how to speak of this. He had done so many times before.

Colbern had been the first person to believe him, when he said he was always cold.

“The dead,” he finally said, hands still tight on his forearms. They would remain there, unless and until he lost his words again, “It is. Necromantic power is cold, as necromancers feel it. Other things too. But those differ. Cold is true for all of us. Like. Pins of ice. In your bones.”

“Oh hello nightmares, I needed some new ones,” the Enforcer breathed, shuddering.

The Eldest immediately held up a hand, Tristan gladly pausing while the man said lowly, “Anur, we can delay this.”

“’Til when?” Enforcer Bellamy said sourly, “’Til a horde of Walkers show up and we could have avoided it if only we hadn’t stopped speaking? I’ll… be fine. Just. No cold, please.”

“I can make that happen,” the Incendiary promised, and Tristan felt his own breathing ease a bit when the air around them warmed even further.

“Kir!”

“My headache is fine, Anur, truly. Tristan, if you need to pause or stop, you may. We do not need these answers, it is simply curiosity.”

“It might be important though,” Tristan said, “The variations in shields. I. Would want to tell you anyway. It’s. It’s something I never thought I’d have.”

The Eldest’s sigh was weary, but he smiled through it and said, “Then thank you, Tristan. Please, continue.”

“It is stronger. When there are a lot. It. Whispers. Not the dead, they are not – it is not their souls. It is. Echoes of them, in the deaths. Themes. If there were common threads it… makes the deaths layer,” Tristan explained, unspeakably grateful that he’d explained this before, to Henrik. To Lumira.

“So specifically designated catacombs like in Sunhame…”

“Very,” Tristan confirmed, the Eldest shuddering and his Enforcer echoing him.

“I thought I had good reasons to avoid the city,” he heard the Eldest mutter.

“You did,” Bellamy assured, “These are just even better ones.”

“They’re not though,” Tristan corrected, grimacing, “Not. Entirely. It is. They are bad. Loud. Freezing. I do not stay here long. Unless I can stay exclusively here.”

“There are no catacombs under the Hall,” the Eldest realized, “And if I understand purification of necromantic energy correctly from what Colbern has said – with the Trial chamber and the wards the Trial supports…”

“It is warm here,” Tristan said, hearing his voice crack and finally starting to speak with his hands again as well as his voice, in case his words faded, “And that never goes away. Safe spots elsewhere are not. Not permanent. Not guaranteed. Here is safe. Your ward necklace isn’t… isn’t as good as being here. I tested both versions in the gardens. But. It is like a thick cloak.”

“Hmm. Was there any difference between the two in effectiveness?” the Eldest asked, sounding understandably intrigued.

“From Kari’s test, I do not think so?” he replied, waiting for Kari to nod in confirmation before continuing, “For my own, I found the one Fabron and I crafted more insulating than Lumira’s, but it wasn’t a blind test or anything rigorous.”

“I suspect that sort of rigor is going to have to wait some time,” the Eldest admitted ruefully, “Something that might be worth trying out sooner than later, though, is seeing how incorporating sun-blessed steel into the metallic anchor used for the spell would effect things.”

Tristan was tempted. Sorely tempted. But he had to be practical, and being entirely shielded from necromantic chill wherever he went would not be practical at all.

“Having it be permanent and total, as if the Hall’s presence were with me wherever I went – it would not be practical,” he admitted, “I wouldn’t be able to detect traps, for one.”

“Fair point, that sounds far too risky,” the Eldest allowed, sounding distinctly displeased nonetheless.

“What if it weren’t permanent?” the Enforcer suggested, “Something that could be activated or deactivated at will, after you’d inspected an area? It just occurs to me that if you’re… anywhere near Hardorn, basically, it could be… very bad. Having a way to temporarily block anything verging on overwhelming might be helpful.”

“When the ward comes down, I agree it will be bad,” Tristan said, this time feeling his voice slip away and relying solely Ari’s Tongue as he continued, Before the ward went up, I could not stay  near Hardorn long. My region of focus was towards Rethwellen, first time near Hardorn in years this past spring. Very bad.

The Eldest looked thoughtful, but neither he nor his Enforcer said anything for him to perceive, so Tristan took the chance to drink some of his tisane and scratch Kari behind the ears. He had always liked cats; when he’d first been claimed as Colbern’s student, he’d found his mentor’s bone-cats morbidly adorable.

He hadn’t seen those bone-cats since their falling out. He wondered sometimes if he’d still feel that way.

“If necromancers exist, I don’t see why we can’t break some dead men’s kneecaps. We’ll start with that Armand.”

“…I don’t think that’s how necromancy works, Ma.”

“Devin, see if you can get some details.”

“Help me convince our ma to let us go to Sunhame one day and you have yourself a deal!”

Chapter Text

:If Hardorn is that bad, it adds a new complication to assigning Tristan and Colbern any sort of Hardorn-related duties this spring,: Aelius pointed out, :And that's aside from the rather dramatic reaction Colbern had to crossing from Hardorn into Karse across that ward.:

:And aside from the necromancer-specific things, there's the Tristan-specific issue... how mutually intelligible is Ari’s Tongue to the Sunsguard and vice versa?: Anur asked, Kir blinking at the seeming non-sequitur and giving Anur a puzzled look.

:Middling at best,: Kir admitted, :Us understanding the Sunsguard, yes, that’s rather straightforward, but them understanding Ari’s Tongue in full, not so much.:

:Then we should probably try and figure out if there’s a unit intended for action near Hardorn that has someone with more experience with Ari’s Tongue and station Tristan near them,: Anur pointed out. By Aelius' grumbled curses, he agreed.

Before Kir could ask Tristan his thoughts - before he could properly think through whether or not asking Tristan at this point in time was even useful, or if it should be put off for later - Tristan finished his tea and set his mug aside, burying his fingers in Kari's fur and asking carefully, "Is there anything else, Eldest?"

"Not for tonight," Kir decided, "As I said, we'd like to speak to you tomorrow once we have some time to think things over, and possibly get some additional information from Colbern, but nothing tonight. Thank you for discussing this with us, Tristan."

Kari jumped down from Tristan’s lap as the man stood, bowing and offering one of the more formal farewell-and-thanks gestures of Ari’s Tongue, turning on his heel and departing before Kir could even think of the proper response. He’d have to try and remember it for tomorrow, or just ask Tristan about it. Formal usage of Ari’s Tongue definitely hadn’t been something he’d had any chance to practice after his ordination.

Anur waited for the door to entirely shut behind Tristan before saying, “I’ve had more awkward conversations, and I’ve had more horrifying conversations, but that was a very special combination of both.”

“Happy Midwinter,” Kir said, Anur and Aelius both snorting.

“What about you, Kari?” Kir prompted, the Firecat jumping up onto the couch beside him and settling across his legs with a sigh, “Moral support for Tristan or did something else bring you?”

:Well he definitely needed the support,: Kari said, :But no, that wasn’t all that brought me. I spoke to Captain Marghi today, and did what little I could to help him, and wanted to speak to you of what remained.:

“And what upset you so much in the first place,” Kir guessed, Kari nodding and kneading his claws in Kir’s vestments for a moment before pausing and flattening his ears against his skull.

:Apologies. Stress makes it more likely unconscious instincts take over,: Kari said.

“Kari, we’re all stressed, we could hardly object,” Anur said, scratching the Cat behind the ears and folding his scarf up to put under Kari’s paws, “But Kir’s field vestments go through enough hardship. Use my scarf.”

:You realize my claws are going to get stuck in the fiber, yes?: Kari asked dryly, but he relaxed enough Kir could feel it, and that was what actually mattered.

“If you get very badly stuck, you can just Jump out of it,” he pointed out, taking another sip of tea, “What do you need to tell us? Were you able to help him?”

:A bit, yes. To use the fill-in-the-furrows metaphor, I would say the job is half done. The difficulty is that his own personal mitigation strategies led to… well, he essentially dropped boulders into place to mostly block the furrows, and then new and far more irregular grooves formed to get around those blocks. We discussed the options a bit, myself and Caleb, I mean, and he asked that I focus my efforts on the deeper, mostly blocked furrows. Mostly in the hope that it would lessen the likelihood of his thoughts falling along any of those paths in the first place.:

“That… all right. That visualization works, but what does it mean? What do those deeper furrows versus the… flood-water channels, what do those correspond to?” Anur asked, Aelius helpfully presenting a mental image of a storm-damaged field that seemed to correspond to Kari’s metaphor.

:That image is decent enough,: Kari offered, slumping as he continued, :As for the furrows and the boulders and the flood-water channels… within a few days of your party leaving his unit, he was in a meeting with his Captain at the time and the man had to tear a knife out of his hands and pin him to the ground before he slit his own throat.:

Kir felt the blood drain from his face. That was the same fate Marghi had only dodged by virtue of Kir’s arrival in the first place, to have thought he was safe only to find within days that his safety was a lie…

“I wish they had reached out to us directly,” Kir said quietly, “I understand why they didn’t. But Sunlord, I wish they had.”

:Caleb said that he suspects his delay in reaching out for assistance was one of the earliest subtle impacts. To extend the storm damaged field metaphor, aside from furrows gouged deep, a lot of topsoil was washed away – he’s noticed that a lot of risk-aversion has become difficult for him. Or at least he has to actively think of ways to mitigate risk and aggressively pursue them, rather than being able to have a ‘oh that might help’ sort of thought and then follow through. He noted recklessness, essentially. He is more likely to stand near the edge of a cliff than before, was how he put it.:

“Hells, that’s horrific,” Anur said, face buried in his hands, “Does that recklessness extend to lives under his command?”

:No. Though he admits that he puts immense conscious effort into avoiding that. Arresting Vars the other day was a bit of a unique case, in that he risked himself needlessly and the consequences of that risk ending in his death would have impacted far too many people aside from himself in extreme ways. A good portion of our conversation was in determining what sort of safeguards he could put in place to avoid things like that, and he asked that I bring the issue to the two of you so your own ideas can be added to ours.:

“The easiest and likely most effective thing is to read in some of his own officers, perhaps the Shift Leads, so they can double check any of his duty roster assignments consciously rather than just skimming it for glaring errors and signing off,” Kir mused, frowning, “That… could be difficult, depending on how many of those Shift Leads are implicated in this mess. I would also say he shouldn’t go anywhere on duty without someone else tagging along. Someone in training even, just another set of eyes and another person around to let his more conscious ‘risk only myself’ habits kick in.”

“My first ideas too,” Anur agreed, “We’ll think on it. Did he request any particular time for speaking to him about it?”

:I only reiterated Kir’s initial offer, to speak to him again before you two leave after Midwinter. Depending on this soul-healing and what it entails we might need to set up times to meet with him regularly going forwards.:

“Can you jump with passengers all the way from here to the 62nd?” Anur asked, Kir frowning at the implications of that question but not entirely willing to protest just yet. Solaris had said he was on the list of soul-healers, and he… he didn’t want to believe her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter, not for this. If he could help, he would.

:With limitations, yes. But one person, a couple of days at least between any other such trips? That I could manage easily,: Kari said, tail twitching as his tone shifted to something more amused, :And with a week between and only going one way, I can manage four. Lucky for you.:

“What?” Kir asked, bewildered.

:You plan to leave Sunhame the day after Midwinter, yes? I will be bringing you three and Riva to the 62nd from the stables, because you are not riding with your injuries.:

“Bruises!” Kir protested, “Just bruises, I can ride!”

:Could you manage mounting without a block?: Aelius asked pointedly.

Kir paused, and knew that the very fact he had to think about that answer meant he had lost.

:As I said, I will be bringing you four straight to the 62nd,: Kari repeated dryly. :On that topic, I realize there are going to be training sessions that need to occur with the students and meetings that might need to happen between yourself and other Firestarters with some urgency – I would prefer not to make this too much of a habit long-term, because Jumping is wearing over time, but for this spring? As busy as we promise to be? Hansa and I have both agreed that we’re willing to coordinate via Jumps far more often than we normally would. In theory we can actually anchor a Gate between the pair of us, but that would take far more energy for small parties moving about within Karse’s borders than Jumping.:

“What’s a Gate?” Anur asked.

“It turns a doorway from one place into a doorway for another, so we could walk through our office door and emerge in the chapel at the 62nd, for example,” Kir said, “Only Adepts can manage them alone, and I didn’t know joint-casting like Kari says he and Hansa can do was even possible.”

:It takes some finesse,: Kari summarized, :But can be done. It can’t be done to somewhere you’ve never seen before, and running through them can be rather disorienting. Jumping as we do does the equivalent of throwing a rock across a flooded river – if you know where you are aiming, have sufficient power and a properly sized rock, you can make it. A Gate drops a bridge of varying quality across the river and users run for it.:

“Both those metaphors make Jumping much more stressful than I found it before,” Anur admitted, “I’ll pass on this Gate business until I have to. But thank you, Kari. Both for the whole spring and for Jumping us to the 62nd.”

:Of course,: Kari said, butting his head against Anur’s hand, :I would be fretting about you all making it back safely if I didn’t, to be honest. It’s hardly just benefiting you. Now, back to Caleb.:

“The only time in the next day or two that is unquestionably free is tomorrow, when I thought we’d see Axeli. But most evenings we can be available, so the question is really what is the Captain’s shift schedule like, and how can we work around that,” Kir summarized.

:He mentioned he would be getting off shift within two marks of noon for the next few days, though there could be emergencies that keep him longer,: Kari reported.

“Aim for tomorrow afternoon then?” Anur offered, before frowning, “Though if he plans to read any of his officers in… he might need help explaining? I don’t know.”

“That’s his decision entirely,” Kir said, finishing his tea, “We can offer that tomorrow, but tomorrow afternoon I’d rather discuss things with him and him alone. Others can hear about things after decisions have been made and properly thought through.”

“Fair enough,” Anur said, “Kari?”

:I’ll reach out to him tomorrow and ask that he let me know when he’s available for you two to speak with him,: Kari agreed.

“Well then, tomorrow is all planned out,” Kir grimaced, “Chock full of horrifying conversations. Let me finish the letter to Elisia, and then we really should leave the office.”

:A very good idea,: Aelius said, :Either that or barricade the door.:

Anur barked a laugh, reclaiming his scarf from Kari’s claws before helping Kir to his feet. Kir passed Anur his mug and made his way to the desk. One last paragraph, decide how he was going to sign off, and then they could leave.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get that to her tomorrow, Kari?” Anur asked, rinsing the mugs and setting them aside to be brought down for proper cleaning tomorrow.

:Likely,: Kari said, :Her response time though…:

“I imply some urgency but not critical urgency,” Kir said, skimming what he’d already written and picking up a pen, “We’ll just have to see. I doubt this shield necklace will have negative effects on Captain Marghi, though I’d want you to check your own fill-in-furrows assistance after a day or so, Kari, just to make sure of that, but we could hand this or an equivalent off to him without Elisia’s testing being complete. We’d just take this one for him and I’d make another one for her to test, were she willing.”

Writing out their already planned final explanation of why they were asking for this, minus sufficient information for any reader to identify Captain Marghi specifically as the victim of a rogue heart-reader, Kir glanced up at Anur and frowned at his brother’s unsettled expression.

“What’s wrong?” he prompted.

“It’s not – nothing is wrong, really. I just. Teaching shielding I can do, can explain as it being something I was taught and dodge just where and when, like with Cora. But anything more for Maltin – not that I know much more, but I was going to find a Bard and ask – Kir how are we going to relay this? Any of it? Before Midsummer?”

“Do we need to?” Kir countered, huffing as he thought that through, “No, fair enough, Maltin’s magic is almost entirely tied up in his music…”

“Which I know even less about – eh, no, now that I think of it, thanks to you I do know more about magic than I do about Bardic,” Anur realized, laughing ruefully, “Our lives, Kir. I suppose that’s the angle to take. I don’t know anything about how magic and Bardic will interact, so that’s all new to me.”

“It’s going to be theorizing and guessing,” Kir agreed, hesitating before signing his name with only his chaplaincy listed. It wasn’t a lie, and would hopefully assure her that saying no really was an option, if one he’d really prefer she didn’t take. That this was professional, not personal, but not a request from Incendiary Dinesh, Voice of Her Eminence, either.

:Attributing some of your guesses to certain unnamed Talented individuals wouldn’t be outlandish,: Kari pointed out, pressing his head against Anur’s hand so the Herald started scratching behind his ears, :No one would be surprised if you simply don’t name Talented people outright, or list their Talents specifically without their permission. I don’t think that will be an expectation for years, yet.:

“That’s fair,” Anur agreed, tension easing and Kir’s own mind easing with it. “Fretting over nothing, I guess.”

“Not nothing,” Kir refuted, capping his ink while wax warmed for sealing, “But something we can work around relatively easily. Though to be fair, if we got to another Conclave without handing over our records I think Seras would start trying to steal them.”

“Oh I have got to ask him and Ulrich about that long and storied battle of theirs,” Anur laughed, the sound cutting off with a groan when someone knocked on the door.

“If I admit I cursed us, do you think it will stop?” Anur asked pathetically, Kari and Aelius both laughing in their minds.

“Most things go better when you admit I’m right,” Kir smirked.

“Fi – excuse me?” Anur spluttered, whirling away from where he’d just opened the door, protesting, “That is definitely not true!”

=pagebreak=

Etrius was glad he hadn’t had a chance to return Enforcer Bellamy’s money yet. He had intended to earlier today but had been far too excited about the Hunting Rite explanation, and then been thoroughly distracted by Karal’s mention of soul-healing research in the main archives and a potential illumination project, and then the sheer absurdity of the Eldest’s secondary Enforcer paperwork and the stories that had prompted had rather thoroughly derailed any of his plans to take care of that hand-off tonight.

At least until Laskaris and Fabron had put their heads together and started guessing which priests and priestesses were going to end up arrested as collaborators. It had turned into something of a betting spree, and Etrius hadn’t dared contribute his own opinion. He’d listened for a time, because the reasoning behind the guesses was often very informative, but seeing Father Seras roll his eyes and agree to write out the bets when he refused to offer his own opinion had been too much. Had been too close.

So he had made something of a show of ‘suddenly remembering’ that he had forgotten to return Enforcer Bellamy’s money, and fled.

The Justicar had spoken privately to the Eldest, and had walked out of that meeting with far fewer papers than he’d walked in. Etrius was willing to bet there was a list of names somewhere in those handed over papers, and Seras couldn’t get a hold of that list. Etrius wouldn’t allow it.

This shouldn’t take long.

It might take a while. He’d never actually told anyone what Seras had done. People just – some people just knew.

Willas knew enough to shun him.

That thought brought him up short, because it hurt, but he gritted his teeth and knocked on the door anyway. Muffled voices, likely a groan about curses somewhere in there, and the door was wrenched open by Enforcer Bellamy, who was focused entirely on the Eldest as he protested something, “That is definitely not true!”

The Eldest stood up at his desk, ignoring his Enforcer entirely in favor of greeting him, “Etrius. Everything all right?”

“This isn’t over, because you are wrong – sorry, Etrius,” Enforcer Bellamy said, waving him through and echoing the Eldest’s question, “Everything all right?”

Etrius paused mid ‘yes of course’ because it wasn’t, was it, that was the whole reason he was here. He had to admit it to someone. He had planned to admit it to these two, even, but denying anything was wrong was – it was instinct.

“Hmm. The habitual denial?” the Eldest said, exchanging a rueful look with his Enforcer, “Something of a habit on all our parts, I think. What is it, Etrius?”

“I have your money,” he blurted, shoving the coin purse at the Enforcer, who took it looking more than a little bewildered and pocketed it without even pausing to assess the weight. He’d undoubtedly count it out and redistribute it later. Etrius had remembered his bartering, he had definitely given them more than half back.

“Thank you,” Bellamy said slowly, exchanging another long look with the Eldest before focusing on him again and saying, “Etrius, you’re shaking.”

“Oh, yes well it’s winter,” Etrius dismissed, wincing because that was also entirely instinctive, and he shuddered, admitting, “Sorry, that wasn’t. That’s not why.”

“We could guess,” the Eldest said, walking over and giving him a concerned once-over, before prompting, “Are you under threat?”

“No!” he denied, honestly this time, “No, I’m not – I just – did the Justicar clarify anything?”

“He clarified quite a few things,” the Eldest replied, hesitating before offering, “He confirmed that the Oathbreaker’s ideal outcome included your death.”

Etrius swallowed, bowing his head in a rough nod and sliding his hands up his sleeves, digging his nails into his arms so the tremors weren’t as bad. Weren’t as obvious. He had known that. He had known that. That wasn’t even what he had been asking about, though the Eldest had no way of knowing that, but it still hurt to hear.

Why was he having so much trouble with this? He’d never even trusted the Oathbreaker! Not properly! Not really.

The Oathbreaker was caught and confessing and wouldn’t escape. That wasn’t why he had come. Focus on the task, Etrius!

“There had to be co-conspirators,” he bit out, forcing himself to look up, to meet the Eldest’s worried gaze as he said, “Some at least. Did he... are they all in custody now?”

“If they specifically knew that he was trying to destroy the charity temple, and are currently in Sunhame, yes,” the Eldest summarized, “There is one of those who isn’t in Sunhame at the moment. Word has been sent out to bring her in. There are varying levels of complicity in both this plot and his other schemes, he had quite the network and system in place. Not everyone involved on that peripheral level has been brought in or even will be; working to his benefit didn’t require illegal or even immoral actions.”

“And not all of the names are even solidly linked, some of them are just names the man suspected would take advantage of the chaos his plot would cause and allow more knowledgeable individuals to advance their pet projects further than otherwise,” Enforcer Bellamy added, looking rather wry when Etrius glanced his way, “The Justicars are going to be busy for quite some time on this one.”

There was a list. Maybe not here, though he was near certain at least one of those paper-towers held those names, but the list existed. He had to ask. He had to say it. Even if they were actually guilty of crimes, he’d never really believe it, if Father Seras got to them first, and what if they weren’t?

“Please don’t tell Seras any of those names,” he blurted, talking right over their startled glances because they had to listen, he couldn’t do this again, “You can’t. Don’t give that list to him please they don’t – he doesn’t – his judgment is flawed, when I’m involved, Eldest, please – ”

“Etrius! Etrius!” the Eldest cut him off, hands pressing against his shoulders, “Etrius breathe.”

His shaking was so much more obvious now, with Father Kir’s hands on his shoulders, with his lungs not cooperating properly and hitching far too often, with Kari leaning against his legs. He had to breathe. He had to get it together, and actually explain.

“We know,” the Eldest said firmly, “We know Seras’ judgment is flawed, especially when you are involved.”

Enforcer Bellamy added quietly, “He won’t ever murder in your name again.”

Etrius’ next inhale was ragged; his next exhale was a sob.

“You know?” he sobbed, letting Father Kir pull him into a hug and burying his face in the Eldest’s vestments and hating every second of it because no one had ever given him words for what Seras had done before. No one had ever summarized Father Seras’ crimes like that even though it fit perfectly and it was gutting and he hated it.

“We know,” Father Kir promised, voice low and one hand curling around the back of his neck, “We know, Etrius, he told Anur himself.”

“He – he did?” Etrius asked, shock a splash of snow-melt to the face, and he pulled back, looking between the two of them because he had to see their faces, he had to have the best odds of knowing they were being honest, and demanding, “He knows?”

“That what he did was wrong?” Bellamy guessed, nodding after Etrius did, “He does. Last winter he spoke to me about it, after I – ah. Terrorized Maltin’s old dormmates.”

“Nothing they didn’t deserve,” Etrius grumbled, because he had heard all the details of that story, and likely knew quite a bit more than they did the sorts of torments that Maltin had been dealing with for years.

“Hmm. I think I’ll have to ask after where they ended up,” Bellamy said, expression tightening, “Regardless, Seras spoke to me within a few weeks of that, and admitted that in prior years, he’d likely have tried to deal with those sorts of tormentors himself. That he had done so for years, to protect those in the Order. Those he considered his, I think was his wording. He essentially was telling me that he had found such things necessary, but was no longer doing that job. I think he intended for me to take it up, should it be necessary.”

“It won’t be,” Father Kir said firmly, “Because legal recourse will be not only available, but functional.”

“Fortunately true,” Enforcer Bellamy agreed, smiling faintly before focusing on Etrius again, continuing, “He explained he was no longer doing that job because he had overextended before. Had killed someone unworthy of it, and was unwilling to risk doing so again.”

“His name was Rikan,” Etrius blurted, because remembering his name was all Etrius could do, it felt like. “He – he didn’t – he shouldn’t have died! He shouldn’t have died at all and he shouldn’t have been burned he hadn’t – he didn’t do anything that wrong!”

“I know,” Bellamy said sadly, and Etrius hid his face against Father Kir’s shoulder again because even though he was upset, because Rikan hadn’t deserved any of it, he was still happy, because Father Seras had realized it. Had figured it out, and had stopped, and why was he happy about that? How could he be happy about that? Because it was better than the alternative, certainly, but Rikan was still dead! Willas still rightfully loathed him!

“None of them deserved to die like that,” the Eldest murmured, undoubtedly referring to the centuries’ worth of burned innocents. “But Rikan’s burning was a crime even in a time where crimes were considered just. I am so very sorry, Etrius, that this was ever a burden you had to bear.”

“We won’t be giving Seras this list of names, for the record,” Enforcer Bellamy confided, “Him realizing he was in the wrong is one thing. Handing him a list of names that might have actively planned to profit from your death? Well. Might be a little too tempting, and tests like that aren’t a good idea when lives are on the line.”

“Thank you for speaking to us,” Father Kir added, Kari yowling agreement, “You’ve lived with this weight a long time, and I’m glad you could entrust us with it.”

Etrius choked on a laugh at the utter incongruity of that thanks, directed at something so very small. So very minor, in the face of everything he and the others owed these two. But that would only draw protests, and given his own desire to protest these thanks – he understood, at least a bit. Because what else could he have done?

Rikan hadn’t deserved any of it. But neither had any of them.

Willas didn’t want to speak to him, he’d made that more than clear today. But Etrius probably owed him a letter.

=pagebreak=

One of the more poetic Oradnel ancestors had likened the green of properly directed necromantic energies to freshly sprouting leaves, unfurling under Vkandis’ light to… Colbern couldn’t remember the wording enough to even try paraphrasing it, he just remembered nearly laughing himself sick over it because had the writer ever actually looked at what they were writing about?

Though perhaps they had. His eyes had apparently never seen the world the way most did.

Green sparks, visible to all eyes and too starkly bright to call to mind leaves or anything living, flickered in the gaps of the cat skeletons claiming their patches of territory in his room. His newest one, only properly excarnated a couple of weeks ago and only once-before animated, looked to be enjoying clawing his rag and hide wrapped tree stump. First cat in a while that had taken joy in that, good thing he hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He shouldn’t be wasting his energy on these animations, especially not after yesterday’s far more energy intensive workings, but when Valerik had mentioned Yelena, had explained her oh-so-innocent offer to return for additional healing work –

Well. The Eldest burned off his rages with heat-shimmered air and the occasional scorch mark. Colbern went for a less literal burning of energies, and let his cats awaken. With any luck a mark or so of this would let him sleep, because between Tristan finally speaking with the Eldest tonight and Yelena’s pushiness, he would have plenty of explanations to grit his teeth through giving come tomorrow.

Even worse, he hadn’t even started formalizing his proposed resolution to the border ward issue. Arguing for channeling the energy back into Hardorn wasn’t going to be too difficult, all things considered – saying Karse’s lands could use the help was entirely valid, but not that much, Sunlord’s sake. Also it would only make the situation in Hardorn even worse long term, and he’d rather not have a life-drained wasteland on his conscience, it was heavy enough. Once he explained that though, he thought agreement in principle would be easy enough to come by.

Pointing out that they’d need necromancers, exorcists and channels to not only do the work, but to do the work in Hardornen territory was going to be the real controversy. He’d known that much would be difficult even before yesterday’s disaster had torn up the earth to show the rot underneath when it came to Sunhame’s opinions of the Firestarters.

The necromancers he could likely find, especially if reworking the Oradnel contract to fall in line with Her Eminence’s new policies on joining the priesthood gave Sunhame any sort of leverage, but the exorcists and channels – well, he would likely have to argue for channels and then concede graciously enough it felt like he was doing Ulrich a favor, because the only one he knew of was Ulrich’s student and the brief chance he’d had to observe that boy today had only driven home how very young he was.

He tried not to make the same mistakes twice, and he was very evidently terrible at setting up appropriately safeguarded scenarios for young magic users to practice their talents. Gifts. Knacks.

Scrubbing at his face tiredly, he could actually move his jaw again, so at least some of his fury was fading.

Sitting back in his chair, he settled his feet on a stool and huffed a laugh when a cat skeleton promptly appeared on his lap, kneading only half-present claws in his wool vestments before curling up for a not-nap. Naturally, once he and his cats were comfortable, someone knocked on the door.

“If the door’s open you can come in,” he called, unsurprised to see Seras wander in. He was more surprised Seras had bothered to knock, but then he was entering from the corridor instead of their connected privy, someone might actually see him being rude.

“You cannot possibly see in this,” Seras said, energies flaring over his palm and producing a slightly warmer light.

Colbern blinked, registering Seras’ flesh instead of just the energy networks that made up his being, and realized he hadn’t bothered with a lamp. His stove was stocked and radiating heat, and his own spelled objects and the Hall’s wards provided more than enough of their own glow for him to navigate, and he honestly hadn’t noticed. He seldom did.

“I can,” Colbern refuted finally, watching his friend move his own preferred seat nearer the stove. Seras had been the one to find the overstuffed monstrosity and drag it in here over thirty years ago, claiming that at least he needed a comfortable place to sit when he invaded.

“I know,” Seras grumbled, anchoring his magelight to the wire-and-mirror spell anchor Colbern suspected someone had given him as a gift. Probably Seras himself, now that he thought about it. Him or Verius were really the only options for that sort of thing. “But you should treat your physical eyes better, you can’t read without those.”

Colbern didn’t bother protesting, because he’d been hearing this argument for literal decades.

“Your student break down yet?” Colbern asked finally.

“No, and no thanks to you for your congratulations yesterday,” Seras scoffed, “I was ready to kick you for that. I definitely would have if Etrius had so much as flinched.”

“Which is why he never will flinch in front of you,” Colbern pointed out, not taking any real joy in the way Seras flinched. He doubted anyone would really believe him, but when he had realized Etrius’ refusal to relay his issues with instructors grading his work unfairly to his mentor, the man who was supposed to help with that, had an actual, very legitimate reason? He had been horrified. Been livid, to put it mildly. To use their moral authority as Firestarters to pursue personal enmities was monstrous, was wrong. He refused to burn anyone he personally disliked outside of life or death emergencies, not that that had ever actually come up, fearing he would build exactly that habit. The fact that Seras succumbed to that evil, a man he had trusted to hold himself to similar standards, who he had considered a fair judge, a reasonable ally – it had been awful.

He was just glad that Seras had already been remorseful when he confronted the man on the issue, had realized he had committed a horrific crime. That Seras, even in the midst of committing a horrific crime, had ensured that innocent was burned during one of Jaina’s rare patrols outside of Sunhame, leaving Seras as the one to light the pyre. Otherwise Colbern would have had to kill his dearest friend.

“It was a legitimate congratulations,” he finally groused, returning to his own errors rather than reminding Seras of his. “Someone plotted to kill him without any sentiment to botch their schemes and he still survived it, that’s worth congratulations.”

“Next time, say the whole sentence,” Seras suggested dryly.

“Say the whole sentence,” Colbern mocked, “Whatever happened to ‘keep it brief, the more words you say the more horrifying you are’ hmm? Maybe I should take a page out of Tristan’s book and just not speak at all.”

He didn’t need Seras’ raised eyebrow to know what he had said was unkind.

“Wouldn’t do any good,” he grumbled, running a hand along his lap-skeleton’s vertebrae, “It’s what I try to convey that’s the problem, not the literal means of conveying it. Only reason Ari’s Tongue would be better is the fact that fewer people would understand me. Hells maybe I should switch to speaking archaic Karsite, back of the throat pauses and all.”

“You’re terrible at glottal stops,” Seras said, chuckling.

“Practice makes sufficient,” Colbern countered.

“I do believe the phrase is practice makes perfect.”

“I’m not getting into a philosophical debate about the nature of perfection with you when we fundamentally agree and you just want to argue something,” Colbern scoffed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, “What do you want, Seras?”

“You don’t have a kind bone in your body, do you.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

They sat in silence for a time. Colbern was always grateful that whatever had resulted in his strange eyesight didn’t result in seeing through his own eyelids. Classical mage-sight could be used even through closed eyes, after all, and he rather liked being able to properly rest every once in a while. His lap-skeleton twisted away from his fingers and leapt down, bones clicking when they hit wood instead of rug. By the sounds of it he’d have to replace some of the rags and leather on that clawing stump, and that particular clatter of bone-on-bone was one skeleton swiping at another. If he was watching, he’d undoubtedly see arched backs and erect tails.

“Can one declare oneself an Oathbreaker, do you think?” Seras finally asked.

“Sure. Don’t see why you would though. Hunting Rite on yourself would be rather pointless,” Colbern said bluntly. “Also the point is to avoid future victims. You haven’t killed since Rikan died at your hands, don’t think you’ve even offered opinions on people’s guilt since then.”

“I’ve offered opinions,” Seras refuted, before admitting, “I tried to avoid opinions. Reported facts from the records, with disclaimers of accuracy and hearsay.”

“Well there you go,” Colbern dismissed, “You’ve corrected. You broke your Oaths at least once, and have regretted and repented since. Still guilty, but not denouncement worthy, the way I understand the formal denunciations. Lack of remorse and intent to continue your evils is a key.”

Opening his eyes and lifting his head to glower at Seras, he continued, “Also, an Oathbreaker denunciation, when it takes, results in a weakening of control and power, as far as Talents or magic or whatever they are are concerned. We cannot afford that. Leave wallowing in your guilt for a time we can afford to lose you.”

“How practical,” Seras said dryly.

“Please,” Colbern scoffed, “How many innocents do you think will come to harm if you compromise yourself before the Hardorn mess is dealt with? More than if you don’t, I can guarantee that. Guilt should prompt useful action, not further wrongs.”

Tilting his head back again, he waited a moment before asking, “What brought this one on? Etrius not trusting you with his woes?”

“Somewhat,” Seras said reluctantly, “Doesn’t help that he practically fled once I started recording people’s theorized co-conspirators – “

A more distant knock. Then a rapid set of steps and an actually-his-door knock.

“Come in!” he called, sighing and actually sitting up properly for whoever this was.

“Father Colbern do you have any idea where – oh! Father Seras,” Etrius said, eyes red and nowhere near as fiercely composed as he usually was under Seras’ gaze. He wasn’t trying to distract from his evident recent distress either, which was new.

“Etrius,” Seras greeted, sounding more than a little bewildered so he definitely was seeing the same things Colbern was, “Is something wrong?”

“No, not – no. Not now,” Etrius said, which was another interesting change. He was at least admitting that something had been wrong. Stepping into the room properly, he shut the door behind him before continuing, “I was – you. You really stopped? After Rikan?”

Ah. This was going to be that long overdue conversation.

He only had two chairs and this would be awkward enough as it was.

“I did not act on any judgments after Rikan, no,” Seras said immediately, “But I did not truly realize and consider my judgment flawed for some moons. Potentially years. I am uncertain.”

“When did you have that instructor with the faulty archival knowledge?” Colbern asked brusquely, standing and moving his chair to face Seras. “There, now you can talk this through. I’m getting tea. What do you want?”

“Ah – that was. My first full coursework term after becoming Father Seras’ acolyte,” Etrius replied, sounding startled. “I don’t need tea, thank you? You don’t need to go, I invaded, I apologize – ”

“It’s fine. You’re both getting dream tea. Seras, don’t even try. Etrius, I tried to convince you to speak to Seras back then. You weren’t clear, but I finally figured out that you worried about Seras’ overreaction because of precedent, and demanded to know what the hell he had done within a week of our conversation. He was remorseful and knew what he had done was monstrous at that time,” Colbern summarized, watching Etrius and unsure how to read that earlier assurance that he didn’t need to go. But this conversation was actually happening, so asking outright wouldn’t be a violation of the trust he held, “Do you need a human witness for this conversation in order to have it properly?”

“…not this time,” Etrius admitted carefully, wincing at the wounded sound Seras made, and Colbern nodded briskly. That admission was most certainly genuine, Etrius could easily have acted bewildered and pretended not to understand him and brush it all off.

“I just talked myself down from a rage and am not interested in experiencing another one tonight,” Colbern said, scooping up his smallest cat and settling it on his shoulder, “Sit down and have your talk. I’ll get tea for us elders. Come along cats.”

His other two skeletons darted for the door at his call, the necromantic magic he employed in animations making them far more promptly obedient than actual living cats, but that was the nature of it. Providing for truly lasting independent behavior was far too complicated without twisted soul-magic coming into play, fortunately for his own sleeping habits.

As he stepped out, he could hear Etrius settling into his chair and sounding so damnably young as he asked again, “You really stopped? Deliberately stopped?”

“I swear to you, I did,” Seras murmured.

He shut his own door behind him and sighed, letting his eyes adjust to the sparsely lit and less enchantment-ridden corridor. Tristan lived in on the other half of the Hall, as did Henrik, so with any luck he wouldn’t run into his own damnably young once-student either.

He’d best pour out three mugs of dream tea. They’d all be needing the help.

“‘Most things go better when you admit I’m right,’ oh that is classic Dinesh.”

“I think that’s more classic siblings, than it is specifically Dinesh, though I’ve definitely heard you say something similar, Nana…”

“How did they get that mental shield necklace tested? Did they say who they sent it to?”

“No, Devin, and we won’t ask.”

“I wouldn’t! I have manners!”

"…"

“What’s with those faces, I do!”

Chapter Text

Pavel looked up from the books he was balancing – his own fishing wasn’t too complicated, but Elisia’s herbalist work had enough favor trading going on that keeping good records was essential. He couldn’t hear the mortar and pestle grinding any longer, but that didn’t mean much, she could simply be done with that part. By the late-morning sun, he’d been at this for marks. But something was oddly worrying...

Ah. Right.

Setting his chalk aside, he made sure to clatter down the stairs, calling, “Elisia?”

“Your shields are rather weak,” his wife commented, tying two tea sachets and dropping them into mugs.

Their sons weren’t home, but it was daylight, and the window was cracked open. It was so strange to speak of these things openly.

“Fell out of the daily maintenance habit a while ago,” he admitted freely, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her hair, “I’ll start up again. You called?”

They’d been knee-deep and over a year into their part of the refugee-smuggling chain when Elisia had finally dared breathe of her own Talent. Even then, it had only come up after she’d used it to induce a frustrated argument between their pursuers when they got too close. Coming up with ways to use her influence on emotions in ways that could be used to communicate had been a nice challenge, and he might have taken advantage of the opportunity for some more romantically inclined alone time while they were at it.

“Pavel,” Elisia chided, “Focus.”

“I am focused!” he protested teasingly, “On you.”

“Yes, I guessed,” she replied dryly, stepping out of his hold to grab the kettle, “I’ll remind you to shield more regularly starting tonight, but for the moment read that letter. Honored Kari brought it, and the necklace.”

Pavel blinked, finally spotting the paper covered in handwriting that didn’t match Elisia’s scratchwork and recipes and receipts, and the oddly string-wrapped medallion that lay with it. It wasn’t ugly, exactly, but while Irma couldn’t produce all of the stunning knotwork creations of her younger hands anymore he had seen enough work to have a reasonable idea as to what was desirable. This was… not quite ornamental.

Presumably the letter would explain.

Once he picked it up, he recognized the handwriting – any of the Dineshes would, those letters had been pored over and picked at to an almost absurd degree. This was far more formal than even that first, more than a little awkward exchange.

To Captain Elisia Dinesh,

We had planned to write to you regarding the potential organized dissemination of information regarding mental shielding techniques and testing, particularly for those without an active mental Talent of their own. Unfortunately for our plans, something more urgent was brought to our attention.

A victim of a rogue heart-speaker – a recently proposed alternative to the far too damning sounding heart-twister – reached out regarding lingering after effects. Proper healing is being further researched, though Honored Kari has been able to offer some immediate triage, however prevention of further such assaults via shielding would be a comfort. Additionally, it is possible the victim in question will be more vulnerable to such attacks, should they ever come about again, Sunlord forbid, and while independently maintained mental shields are of course the ideal, they will take some time to figure out.

As a stop gap measure, there is an enchanted medallion proven to work as a shield against mindspeech, both for myself and another recently encountered mindspeaker. However we are uncertain if it is a true analogue for mental shielding, and therefore functional against heart-reading, or if its functionality is limited to mindspeech alone. It would be much appreciated if your opinion on its usability could be offered. Should you need someone to test this on, I will have some availability in the next few days.

I have not mentioned how I plan to have this tested to anyone (aside from Anur), though I have stated I will be sending it elsewhere for further testing. I will not mention anything regarding your capabilities or lack thereof when it comes to this testing in any circumstances unless granted your specific permission. If I knew literally anyone else who might be able to assist with this, I would be writing to them as well.

Vkandis protect and guide,

Kir Dinesh, Chaplain of the 62nd

“I like heart-speaker,” Pavel said, mostly to stall for time. Also at least those words he knew what they meant – context helped a lot, but he had been taught to read on Writ and Word. Whatever ‘dissemination’ or ‘analogues’ were, they weren’t the Writ.

“I rather like it too,” Elisia admitted, bringing him a mug of tea, “Similar enough that someone could start the old name and catch themselves without being too horrifically obvious, for one.”

“Always helpful when it comes to changes,” he agreed, setting the letter down and taking a sip of tea, skimming the letter again, “He’s very… formal. A fair number of those words I don’t actually know the meaning of.”

“Likewise, though context tells me a lot,” Elisia admitted, huffing a laugh, “The formality likely comes hand in hand with the fancier words. The formality at least is intentional.”

Her expression tightened, before she added, “I’m grateful he called me Captain, instead of the other option. I would have been hard pressed to not throw the letter into a fire if he’d addressed me as Matron.”

“A Firestarter addressing anyone as Matron will likely go over poorly for some time,” Pavel allowed, because regardless of the reforms, the emotional response of a woman being formally addressed as a mother by members of the Order mothers would most live in terror of? That would take some years – some decades, if he were honest – to subside.

“What do you want to do about this test?” Pavel prompted. “Ask for him to come here?”

“He has mental shielding of his own,” Elisia refuted, “It wouldn’t be a very accurate one, testing it on him to see if it will protect someone without any mental Talents at all.”

“Good thing I haven’t been practicing then,” Pavel smiled, pressing a kiss to Elisia’s brow when she bowed her head, blinking back tears, “Elisia, love, of course you can test this out with me. It’s nothing more than our signals.”

“Someone was hurt,” Elisia said, voice rough, “Someone was assaulted badly enough to leave scars, Pavel, that heart-speaker must have been out of their mind by the end of it, if they weren’t already. All I can hope for is that they didn’t die by fire. All I can do is help the survivor.”

“All we can do,” Pavel corrected, hugging her close, “And we will, Elisia. We can and we will. Want me to wear it now? Or influence first and see if it’s cut off?”

“Both, but we’ll start with you wearing it under no influence,” Elisia said, stepping back and taking a bracing sip of her tea, “See how that goes, before trying an interruption test. Then we’ll have to write up a report and send it back.”

“And perhaps have some recommendations for shielding non-Talented minds scribbled in the margins?”

His wife’s smirk was one he was far too fond of as she said, “Perhaps.”

=pagebreak=

“Colbern’s on his way up,” Anur said, holding up a bottle, “Prodka before or after this conversation?”

“I’m tempted to say both, but best neither. Let’s stick with tea,” Kir grumbled, hearing the bells marking noon with some relief. This was their last meeting before a break until Descending, followed by the rest of the one on ones. This morning had been considerably less physically painful than yesterday’s, thanks in large part to Jaina’s healing, but he had still dosed himself with turmeric laden tea and was very carefully not leaning back when he was seated.

Emotionally and mentally speaking, the morning had been little better.

They’d woken up well before Ascending was due to start, and some forward thinking soul had left the stack of annual reports in the kitchen for them to get started on. It had been more than a little daunting, despite the occasional updates they’d all exchanged during the year, but between that extra time before Ascending and the verbal summaries and resulting discussions right afterwards, they had been able to prioritize their one on one conversations appropriately.

Tristan would speak with them after Descending – they wanted to ensure they had time to speak to Colbern and process whatever came out of that talk. Jaina likewise, and the students had deferred – this was the first year students of all levels had been involved in the Conclave, and to be frank between speaking with Etrius yesterday evening and his carving out time for Rodri whenever he could, the only one he hadn’t yet spoken to one on one this season was Maltin, and that was best left for after he and Kavrick had discussed things a bit further. He was also a post-Descending conversation, as was Valerik. Valerik would likely be first of that set, given he was still recovering from resisting the Oathbreaker’s geas.

But the other Firestarters had been spoken to this morning. Lumira’s talk had honestly been his favorite, though Laskaris’ surprisingly positive report on the mercenaries down by Vondera had been a relief to hear. Her congregation had been terribly traumatized, no doubt about that, but discussing what aid they had received and what was still needed and how the community had started to not only accept but properly welcome their presence had been reassuring. Had been heartening.

Having a chance to chat string magic enchantments with his newly adorned vestments and Anur’s modified sash as examples of her own work and his medallion as an example of his had been positively pleasant.

There was a short rap on the door before it opened, Colbern stepping in and nodding to them both as he greeted, “Eldest, Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“There really needs to be a two syllable title I can use,” Anur grumbled, pouring steaming water into two mugs, “Mine is far too much of a mouthful for everyday use. My name or just Enforcer is fine, for the record. Tea?”

“If you have anything with ginger I’d appreciate it,” the man said, jaw clenching before consciously relaxed and scrubbed at his face, sitting down in the armchair across from Kir.

“Your report is relatively straightforward,” Kir finally said, waving at the stack of paper in question, “In particular, thank you for the collated summaries of the progress on the Peak’s Town purification. Most of what I need to discuss with you is related to necromancy – both your position as the head necromancer in Sunhame and what that means, exactly, as well as necromancy in general and how it might impact what I can or should ask of you and Tristan this spring. Finally, I have to insist on at least some details regarding these Boneyard managers Tristan mentioned yesterday, and one Healer Yelena. Do you have anything to discuss with us that doesn’t fall under one of those categories?”

“Did Seras talk to you about Rikan?” Colbern asked brusquely.

Kir felt his expression tighten, because that had been a truly brutal discussion to have, and would undoubtedly be competing with this one for most horrific one-on-one conversation of the Conclave. It had been more than necessary, especially in light of Etrius’ evident knowledge of and horror at his mentor’s once-actions, but it had been brutal, nonetheless. Seras was never to render any form of judgment again, and he was to document every one of the judgments he had made in as thorough a manner as possible. That record was to take priority of his archival work and he could ask for no assistance in it, aside from asking where to find records or what someone might remember.

Kir hadn’t yet decided what sort of restitution would be possible regarding Rikan. He might have to ask Solaris for help.

He sure as hellfrost wouldn’t be asking anywhere Grevenor could hear.

“He did,” Colbern concluded, evidently reading at least some of that off his expression, “Good. Don’t know if he would have mentioned it, but he consciously planned to burn Rikan when Jaina was out of Sunhame. Honestly the only reason I didn’t kill him myself when I found out what he had done.”

Anur passed out mugs before claiming his usual seat beside Kir, saying bluntly, “I’m surprised you would respond that way.”

Colbern’s expression tightened, the man bowing his head over his mug and visibly biting back words before he sighed, abruptly weary, “I’m some level of monster. But not that level. Necromancers ride the edge of blood-magic and twisted soul-magic every time we do a working. Refusing to deal death unless there was absolutely no other recourse and never when I had any level of personal dislike or distaste for the person in question, was my way to hold myself to standard. To something that could be called moral.”

Scoffing quietly, Colbern muttered, “Should have known better than to expect Sunhame to keep me moral.”

Kir took a sip of tea to avoid wincing at that painful truth, gathering his thoughts a bit before saying, “You speak as if you don’t consider yourself moral. Or capable of holding morals.”

“I was raised with skewed ones,” Colbern admitted freely, “Those – heh – Boneyard managers, you say Tristan called them? He’s speaking of the Oradnel family, if you know the name at all.”

“A founding one,” Kir said, recognizing it from histories, “One of the nobility, district is out towards Hardorn… Vieldorf as the northern bound, yes? Mountains nearby.”

“Vieldorf to the northwest, Knimann in the southwesternmost corner, straight out to Hardorn from them,” Colbern agreed, smiling bitterly, “Those mountains you mention, the ones south of Vieldorf – a chunk of them and all the marshlands to their northeast are what we call the Boneyard.

“They’re – there is a deal, going back generations. Going forward generations. Every generation produces a healer or a necromancer or both, and the family is responsible for cleansing the Boneyard. It is a region of concentrated necromantic power. It is being cleansed and has been for centuries. Will be for centuries. And a healer or necromancer per generation needs to be sent to Sunhame. We always called it the body tithe. There’s one for every fifteen year span. I was mine. Tristan was his.”

“So you two are related somehow?” Anur asked, brow furrowing, and Kir let him ask the questions, he was busy trying to figure out how a mandated child-sent-to-priesthood tithe would possibly work with Solaris’ willing applicants only reforms beyond the immediate reaction of ‘not at all’.

“Somehow,” Colbern scoffed, scrubbing at his face tiredly and taking a long draw of tea he was definitely wishing could be alcoholic, “He’s… a bastard son to some degree of nephew or cousin, I don’t actually know. I don’t actually care, except in the fact that he was listed as the necromancer-tithe of his generation when he was raised with none of the understandings that implies. We received – we were sent in at the last minute, always were, because we received training in fundamentals from the extended clan. We were raised knowing what we were and what we needed to do, and that is – it is the source of those skewed morals, Eldest. It took me years to realize that my perspective was off. Was too stark, too reactionary, for someone in my position.

“But Tristan? He received none of those fundamentals, was apparently only found out as a necromancer due to a traumatic so-called accident, and deemed the one to be sent, taking the place of one of their legitimate offspring. Yelena is his half-sister.”

:Wow. Court drama with added complexity because of religion and now family drama on top of it? This is… genuinely terrible,: Anur grumbled. Kir could not disagree, to be honest.

“The tithe agreement was – is, flawed, obviously, but it also was biased towards sending healers to Sunhame, more than necromancers. Given higher value,” Colbern continued, waving off the rather awful implications of that, “Not relevant now, really. But someone told Yelena about her half-brother being the necromancer-tithe, and she wanted to get to know him. Fine. Stupidly sentimental, but fine. The issue was that she – I do not know how much of this was intentional, on her part. Especially at first. But she essentially left Tristan with the impression that he could either be a healer or a necromancer, and the only reason she hadn’t taken him as a student was because she was too freshly ordained at the time. I know why she told others that – pretending to be interested in him as a student or apprentice once he finished his acolyte studies allowed her to contact him without too much suspicion from those who’d prefer Healers stay sequestered. I don’t know why she let Tristan continue to believe that.”

“She might have assumed the same thing you did, that he knew it was impossible due to those fundamentals,” Kir pointed out.

Colbern snorted, “No. He asked her outright if she would teach him to be a Healer someday and she said yes. He doesn’t have that ability at all, and she knew that. She lied to him.”

:She might have meant with magic, but fine, misunderstandings abound,: Aelius pointed out, :Not our job to defend her.:

Kir had to concede that point, and simply nodded, hoping Colbern would continue with wherever this explanation was going. The man was staring at the wall blankly. Finally, he spoke.

“I was under the impression Tristan knew he was training to be a necromancer. That he had already received basic training as a necromancer. We had a solid two years together before he was properly capable of a controlled raising, and that is – well. It’s the first thing that is truly obviously necromancy and nothing else. He’d learned enough that he knew necromancy and proper healing very rarely occurred in one person, but he was under the impression that he could choose which path he wanted, so he – well. He said he appreciated my teachings but he planned to be a Healer, not a necromancer.

“I asked him what the hell he was drinking, essentially,” Colbern exhaled shakily, looking deeply ashamed, “He explained what he thought was true and I laughed, because it was absurd, and he was obviously upset, because I was laughing at him and what he wanted to be, and we had a screaming argument in the depths of the catacombs which – is a terrible place to have an argument in general, but I had already set up preparations for an organized raising, and Tristan is a very powerful necromancer with a knack for human animation. It took me two days to get him out.”

:What the hell am I listening to right now?: Anur asked faintly, pressing his shoulder against Kir’s.

:A nightmare story,: Aelius responded, sounding more than a little queasy, :A horrifying disaster of a nightmare story.:

Colbern was still talking.

“I dragged him out, basically threw him into a cleansing rite so he didn’t immediately get marked for death as a rogue necromancer, and it took two years before he spoke another word in my presence. I essentially handed over his tutelage to Lumira and Laskaris, and only worked with him enough to get his necromancy locked down so he wouldn’t be raising Walkers on accident and would be able to recognize when he was walking tainted lands. I tracked down Yelena to give her a courtesy warning about what had happened, ask if she could look him over and make sure he was healed in body at the very least, since Jaina can only do so much, but before I could get her back here I told her what he’d believed about choosing necromancy or healing and she incredulously said ‘wait he believed that’ and I… banned her from ever speaking to him unless he approached her first. I wrote to him to pass along what she had said and what I had done, and he wrote back a message of thanks. I don’t think they’ve spoken since.”

“If they did, it did not end well,” Kir said, because at least the Yelena situation he already had a decision on and could respond to instead of literally everything else Colbern had said, “I offered to declare her unwelcome in our Hall, and we came to the decision that she would be permitted in the main hall but no further barring true and urgent emergency. If she abuses the decision we will, of course, bar her entirely. Do you have anything to add that might suggest she needs to be entirely barred from the outset?”

“I would also want her to not show up unless specifically invited – either specifically by name or answering a general call for a Healer. If it’s not an emergency, she shouldn’t show up without warning, either,” Colbern said, sounding as though even that slight concession cost him dearly, “I’m willing to concede she was needed yesterday. If she tries to leverage that follow up meeting with Valerik to something further, it’s a different issue.”

“I’ll draft something to that effect, and likely ask you and Tristan to review the wording,” Kir said. At least Yelena’s barring was already on their list after last night, it would just be a matter of remembering what specific clauses they wanted to include.

Tapping his nails against his mug, Kir finally continued, “I don’t know details of these deals you refer to, the agreements with the Oradnels. But the bare bits you have said do not sound like they comply with Solaris’ reforms in practice, much less in spirit.”

“Unless they have been changed without me being alerted – unlikely – I agree,” Colbern said, sounding cautious and visibly hesitating over something, so Kir waited.

“That is – it is part of what I knew I needed to speak to you about this season, though less as a Firestarter to my Incendiary and more as the senior-most necromancer to a member of Her Eminence’s Council,” the man finally admitted, rubbing his face tiredly, “There was enough going on this year I did not pursue it as I should, and to be frank I spent the bulk of my necromancy focused time restructuring our responsibilities to be manageable with only two practicing necromancers. The contract isn’t going to come due for another seven years, I didn’t consider it urgent. But we’re going to be in the field this year, and if I’m literally the only person in the District who knows anything about this…”

“Not a good situation, I agree,” Kir said firmly, “I have never heard of this deal, I honestly never really knew anything about necromancers beyond the fact they existed until you informed me of your status and provided a basic explanation. I suspect the majority of Solaris’ Council is in the same situation, and will raise the issue with her after Midwinter’s Day. You will most certainly be called in to explain in detail, and I would recommend having something written up about it, if not an actual copy of the contract.”

“I can make a copy of our secured version to send along,” Colbern said, “The original cannot be moved.”

:What an alarming and intriguing thing to say,: Aelius commented, sounding far more intrigued than he did alarmed.

:Kir, please don’t ask. Please,: Anur muttered, definitely wishing his tea was alcoholic.

:Not this season, at least,: Kir allowed.

“These responsibilities you have, as a necromancer – I know the ward renewal required more bodies than… you… had. Really Anur?”

“I have to take what humor I can get!” Anur protested around snickers. Aelius was chortling himself, and Kir sighed heavily, but allowed a smile. Colbern looked amused as well, and honestly the unintentional pun had done enough to break the tension that Kir almost wanted to be able to take credit for it.

“We didn’t have enough necromancers,” Colbern agreed, “Working with Her Eminence, certainly worked, and Tristan has stated that until we have replacements he is willing to help with ward renewals. Well, he wrote me a letter to that effect, at least. He… doesn’t have the skills to help with every ward renewal, but there are some I can pull him into. I’ve already worked out a plan with Henrik and Fabron to ensure one of them is in Sunhame whenever those workings need to occur.”

Colbern’s explanation of what had happened between himself and Tristan had been horrifying, was still horrifying, but it was strangely… less than Kir had expected. Not in what had happened, he honestly would be having his own nightmares about being trapped with the worst stories of Walkers in catacombs for two days, and to have thought until that very moment that you weren’t a necromancer – no, Kir was definitely having nightmares about that. But Colbern was clearly putting effort into protecting Tristan in the aftermath, in respecting Tristan’s boundaries himself and ensuring those boundaries were respected by others, if his fury with Yelena was anything to go by.

It was horrifying. It was awful. But not malicious. Not even monstrous, if Kir were to be truly honest. An awful set of coincidences and talking past one another and genuinely terrible communication skills, culminating in one utterly horrific mess, yes. But malice? Even just some degree of ill-will?

Not from either of the Firestarters involved, at least.

That almost made it worse.

“But I have – Eldest, I have no idea how to preserve that knowledge. There are additional necromancers in Karse, thanks to the Oradnel clan, and the wards we work and the rites to lay the unquiet dead of our nation to rest – those can be done by any appropriately trained necromancer, they don’t need to be sworn to the priesthood in any way, but it is… more difficult. Also easy to lose track of, if you’re not used to the rhythms of the sacred calendar and how various workings in Sunhame nest together. Much like the contract, with only two trained necromancers here and neither of us not mentorship options... even assuming we both survive the spring, I have no idea how we’ll train the priest-necromancer.”

That at least Kir and Anur had spent time thinking about – well. Not exactly in this context, but at least somewhat.

“Treat it as additional classes rather than a mentorship, if it can’t fit into a post-acolyte apprenticeship,” Kir said bluntly, “Ensure whoever is the mentor of the next priesthood-necromancer, regardless of whether or not they’re from some tithe system or found separately, is aware of their student’s unique needs and skillset, and that they receive some designated amount of time with whatever necromancy instructor is available to gain needed control. Potentially sign a contract with these Oradnel’s to provide a primary instructor in necromancy, if yourself and Liljan are not options for even that. Yourself or this Liljan will need to serve as partial instructors at the very least, in order for those priestly-necromancy practices and rites you mentioned to be passed along, but I agree, it does not sound like you should be a mentor ever again. I will trust your judgment on Liljan’s capabilities as a mentor.”

“She hates dealing with living people, she’d never even consider being more than a strict passing on of specific skills instructor,” Colbern said, looking thoughtful, “It. Definitely is what I would prefer. If you could pass on my request to meet with Her Eminence so the details of the Oradnel contract can be explained, I will write up that copy and summarize the background, perhaps find some official reference texts from Ulrich. I can have that ready a week after Midwinter’s Day.”

“Excellent, I’ll pass that along,” Kir promised. “Now, for the last thing – we need to discuss spring, and how exactly your and Tristan’s necromancy is going to affect your interactions with the border ward and the regions of the border you might be assigned to.”

“I’ll have to take the Boneyard,” Colbern replied promptly, expression thoughtful, “And while I don’t have it fully written up yet – I have an idea for taking down the border ward.”

“Oh I will gladly play scribe for that one,” Anur declared, practically scrambling for some paper to do just that.

=pagebreak=

If he’d been half as capable as the Oathbreaker had apparently feared, so many people could have been saved.

Valerik swore under his breath and slid another piece of yarn into place as a page marker. He didn’t keep rigorous records, particularly not of his outings as Val – if he recorded it, he had to investigate it and possibly be held accountable for it, and some of the things he’d run across over the years – well. He’d looked the other way a few times, and felt guilty about not feeling guilty, and now his past self had by and large been vindicated, even though his motives had been entirely selfish.

He had been a poor Firestarter, and somehow that had left him with fewer sins on his hands than those who’d properly believed. It wasn’t like he’d thought on things deeply enough to conclude that their teachings were wrong either, he’d just not wanted to lose the chance to go out and drink and fight and forget about the near malicious levels of insincerity that had infested the whole damn Temple District. That still did, if to a lesser degree than before.

That list of names Mattis said existed was definitely long. That ‘lesser degree’ was very lesser indeed.

Henrik slid onto the bench beside him with a new stack of texts and a not-quite rib-creaking hug.

Valerik curled an arm around his once-student’s shoulders, saying, “Fabron’s got Tristan then?”

“I don’t only hug you after I’ve been freshly confronted with the nightmare scenario that mentor-student relationship became,” Henrik said, voice muffled.

“That’s true,” Valerik agreed placidly, “Once you were hallucinating with fever, if I remember correctly. You thought I was a particularly fluffy and affectionate bear.”

“That’s literally the most embarrassing story you have of me,” Henrik sniffed, “Whereas I have an entire set of scrolls on you. I think I came out ahead.”

“It’s the most embarrassing story I have of you that I’d actually speak of around other people,” Valerik corrected, Henrik snorting and finally letting him go after one more squeeze.

“So what are you investigating?” Valerik prompted, glancing at the texts Henrik had brought and raising an eyebrow, “Musical theory? I’m fairly certain you’re tone deaf – ah. Maltin?”

“Maltin,” Henrik agreed, “There’s some pieces in here about weaving enchantments into songs – some are probably metaphors, and most are probably useless to him, but it’s worth a skim. Etrius gave me a title list before I managed to figure out a properly sideways way to ask, so he probably knows.”

“Oh I’m certain he does,” Valerik agreed, “Those three are quite the group. Sounds interesting.”

Henrik hummed, getting set up for taking notes. Valerik had marked a couple more places in his own records for cross referencing when Henrik asked, “And you? Seem to be doing your own reread with new eyes.”

Which was likely the primary reason Henrik had come over with research of his own in the first place, though Henrik did often hug him in the aftermath of speaking with Tristan or Colbern on anything relating to their catastrophe of a mentorship. Valerik sympathized. When he and Henrik had gotten back into Sunhame a couple of weeks after things had finally gone disastrously wrong it had honestly only been his student’s frantic worry for his friend that had kept Valerik from high-tailing it out of there. There was tension, and there was that.

“Hmm,” he stalled, and Henrik let him.

“Do you remember, that time we found a down on his luck carpenter a job repairing pews?” he finally asked.

“Of course I do,” Henrik scoffed, glancing at him sidelong, “We snuck in and broke half those pews.”

“It was for a noble cause,” Valerik sniffed, stopping himself before he continued the half-designed banter they had built for themselves, admitting, “Nobler than we thought, turns out. The reason no one would hire him was because the Oathbreaker had set his network on keeping him down until he could offer a similar job.”

“Hmm. What could he have used a carpenter for?” Henrik wondered.

“Didn’t exactly ask Mattis, not like he’d have told me. No need for me to know at this point,” Valerik shrugged, “But that was apparently one of many times I accidentally thwarted the Oathbreaker’s plans.”

“And thrice is a threat,” Henrik quoted, wincing as he looked at Valerik’s yarn-strewn books, “All of those markers were Oathbreaker related? The man definitely thought you were targeting his network with that sort of frequency, even spread over... twelve years?”

“Closer to twenty. Haven't finished all the books yet. And his network was too damn broad!” Valerik griped, “I mean, I would have targeted his network if I knew about it, but I’m no good at all at this sort of long term conspiracy crap, if I’d been targeting him I’d have been targeting him not this… not this, whatever he thought my plan was!”

“Did he know you at all?” Henrik replied, quirking a brow, “Because without that… we’re Firestarters, Valerik. People don’t exactly assume we can’t be subtle. Besides, if he knew you were Valerik, not just Val… he’d already had plenty of evidence in ways you could be subtle.”

“Val isn’t subtle,” Valerik scoffed, “He’s me, with some carefully dodged questions.”

“And to anyone who doesn’t know you personally, the idea of a ranking Firestarter going out into Sunhame’s dockyards for the express purpose of getting in barfights isn’t exactly believable without some other motives,” Henrik retorted, rolling his eyes, “You know I’m right.”

“…I do,” Valerik admitted, because they’d had this debate before. It wasn’t even a debate, to be honest. He knew what people would assume he was after, donning plainclothes and going out to talk to people deep in their cups. Because Sunlord forbid a priest, a Firestarter, want to be anything other than what he was at all times.

“Besides,” Henrik continued blithely, “You had Elder Jaina involved too, eventually at least. And she can definitely long-term plot. Probably assumed you’d finally read her in… wait a minute. The pirate press-gang abduction. Was that why they knew you’d be trouble?”

“Apparently,” Valerik said sourly. He’d actively been investigating that case, what with drinking buddies vanishing if they wandered too close to the docks while intoxicated, but when he’d been grabbed he’d been recognized immediately as a meddler to be dealt with, not as another victim of convenience – at the time, he hadn’t questioned it much. He’d had other worries, between being hungover, not too fond of swimming or good at ships in general, and having to think very fast making sure his and Jaina’s stories didn’t completely contradict one another. Ari’s Tongue had been a saving grace there, to be sure. They’d left the case in the hands of the Sunsguard, as they should have.

Damn it all. He should have noticed.

“Well, if you want me too, I’ll track down my own notes on whatever incidents I got involved in,” Henrik offered, “I think you made me use some of them to practice report writing, probably still have the very rough draft ones that made you laugh. They’d at least be something.”

“We’ll have to take a look at them before sending them on but that could be helpful,” Valerik said, glancing Henrik’s way and smirking, “Also could give you a chance to get more involved in Fourth Court affairs.”

Henrik’s scowl was very much undercut by the way he flushed.

“Shut up,” Henrik muttered, ducking his head, “That’s irrelevant.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Valerik allowed, bumping his knee against his student’s, “How’d your meeting with the Eldest go?”

Henrik winced, and Valerik felt his amusement drain away.

“Henrik?” he asked lowly, leaning in, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Henrik replied, “I’m fine it’s not. It was fine. I just had to. Think about some things. Explained some things as I saw them and it wasn’t… it wasn’t great. It might come up for you too.”

Valerik felt his brow furrow, and his head start to ache. Damn it. He’d been hoping he could finish reading through his own records. Sighing, he started closing journals and tidying his yarn scraps, prompting, “What’ll be coming up? My barfighting, probably. My knowledge of the Oathbreaker, and future involvement in the case, probably. Something else too?”

“The other day, in the – when we were in the storeroom,” Henrik started, huffing when Valerik hooked an arm around his shoulders but not shaking him off, “I knew – well. I thought that they’d be blaming you. Trying to at least. Because you were missing and Kari couldn’t find you. And then Grevenor was the one who came to help.”

Valerik was definitely missing something.

“Do we… not like Grevenor?” he asked, wondering what on earth could have happened to prompt a grudge between Henrik and a man very far outside their circles. Hells, Valerik only spoke to the man somewhat regularly because of their paths crossing some decades ago when they ended up assigned to the same patrol district a couple years in a row – him for witches, Grevenor for village parish check-ins. They'd worked together off and on ever since.

“…Valerik, Grevenor hates you,” Henrik said slowly.

“Wait, really?” Valerik asked, blindsided, “Since when?”

They both stared at each other, before Henrik buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“All right, all right, I know I’m not the best with people, especially people good at Sunhame games,” Valerik said, patting his student on the back, “I don’t disbelieve you. Talk me through it. Grevenor – he hates me? I mean, to be fair, this whole morning has been me realizing why the Oathbreaker probably hated and feared me in equal measure when I didn’t really ever give the man a second thought, so. More likely you’re right than me.”

Which was rather depressing. He wouldn’t have called Grevenor a friend, but he’d thought they were friendly acquaintances at least! They’d had conversations that weren’t solely devoted to their jobs, relatively frequently even! Not since the revolution, of course, but they’d both been exceptionally busy, their paths hadn’t really had reason to cross. He hadn’t thought anything of it.

“He really hates me?” Valerik repeated, realizing he sounded more than a little plaintive. That was fine. They were alone in this corner of the archives. No one else was in earshot. Even if someone else was, he was tired enough he didn’t really care if he sounded like he was whining. He was still recovering from magical backlash and a physical concussion, of course he wouldn’t be at his most composed.

“I mean I certainly thought so!” Henrik said, throwing his hands in the air and pushing his own books aside, turning to focus on Valerik. “Maybe not hatred, the whole time, but lately? Valerik, when was the last time you talked to him? Even exchanged a nod in the halls?”

“Eh… I think I ran into him last spring?” Valerik offered, “Before the Midsummer ward, I think we talked about the logistics of that a bit. So late spring at the earliest? Short talk though, definitely our paths crossed and I said hello and we started chatting.”

“We or you?” Henrik asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Valerik admitted.

“That’s fair, it’s a while ago,” Henrik grimaced, visibly thinking things over before he finally said, “I think when I first decided he was against you was when we ran into him on the road, that last year before I was ordained. He had been asked by a village priest to look into the regional Justicar, but it took a lot of… not wheedling, but he didn’t ask outright for help. Or even want to tell us what he was doing. You greeted him like he was a friend. Or at least friendly, and he was… he was very curt. He kept staring at me like I was a puzzle.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Valerik asked, watching Henrik worriedly, “If he made you uncomfortable I’d have at least – “

“He didn’t,” Henrik interrupted, meeting Valerik’s gaze and repeating, “He didn’t, Valerik. But it was odd, and when you ended up volunteering us to help investigate that Justicar I worked with him for my part of it and just… the things he said, about you having your plainclothes identities ready to go, about being able to just slip out of your vestments and be mistaken for no one priestly – they bothered me a bit? And he double and triple checked everything you brought in as information, like he didn’t trust the information you were bringing, and you laughed it off and agreed that being thorough was better than being hasty, but it was odd. And he’d make these comments, whenever we saw him afterwards. They weren’t objectionable alone but the way he’d say them or the way he’d watch you react – I didn’t think he liked you. I don’t think he likes you. And then in the charity ward he… he didn’t even hesitate to think you’d plan something like that. That you’d do something like that!”

Valerik scrubbed at his face, trying to remember what Henrik could have seen or heard that would be interpreted that way, if he were actually thinking of ways words could be twisted instead of letting himself think that other people were willing to be straightforward. Ari’s Sake, if he hadn’t been taken into the priesthood as a Firestarter, he’d have had to pray for a posting as a village priest somewhere small, he wasn’t suited for intrigue at all.

He’d have lost his mind as a village priest for a small town. No chance to escape his own skin somewhere like that.

“He called me a ridiculous boy,” Henrik continued, voice sour, “Said the evidence – what evidence, for the record, we had an insane number of volatiles in a charity temple basement and your bracelet of foci and the knowledge you were missing, that’s not evidence – but he said the evidence was clear and my own sentiment had no place in an investigation – “

“Wait, wait,” Valerik interrupted, something in that sentence, that recitation, sounding familiar.

Finally, he placed it, and felt exceptionally stupid.

“Oh,” he murmured, staring at his journals. It was a stupid and over-dramatic habit he’d gotten into over the years, soaking the edge of pages describing burnings in his usual black ink, but it did make it easier to make sure he didn’t miss any burnings in his end of year write ups.

Finding one that covered a four year period ending some three years ago – he’d splurged for a fancy red ink and edged the page documenting Henrik’s ordination with it, and it had been at the tail end of the journal in question – he turned to the second of three black-edged sets of pages, careful not to dislodge the strands of yarn he’d already placed in here. It was the usual format for these things: date he’d first heard or seen of witch-powers being a possibility, description of the accused, the accuser if there was one, whatever evidence had been brought to his attention first. Then documenting whatever investigation he did, usually at least a day or two of work to confirm the presence of a witch-power beyond the shadow of a doubt in his mind, and his final actions. The date of death, any follow up that might be needed to ensure those close to the witch were properly counseled, things along those lines.

The critical part here was the accuser’s name.

“That – that’s it?” Henrik spluttered, peering over his shoulder and knowing exactly how Valerik formatted these things, “That’s – he turned someone in to you for witchcraft, and you investigated – you even let him help in the investigation! And he agreed with your conclusions! And he’s blaming you?!”

“No,” Valerik said quietly, looking at the oh-so-brief report. The oh-so-clinical list of tests and tricks they had played on the poor kid to catch him out for his mindspeech. There’d been no doubt in either of their minds the boy was a mindspeaker, and Valerik had given Grevenor a drink after the conclusion had been reached, and they’d spoken for some marks in the man’s quarters on what had to be done. On why sentiment couldn’t hold sway in an investigation.

Kavrick hadn’t had a student at the time. But looking back – Grevenor had done the equivalent of him turning Maltin in for witchcraft. Valerik wouldn’t be turning the pages of his journal so Henrik could see his own thoughts in the aftermath, but he remembered admiring the man for his strength. Remembered doubting he’d have been so principled. Doubting that he’d be strong enough to act as Writ and Rule demanded, rather than as his own sentiment wanted him to.

He was not a good Firestarter. But in some twisted way he could be considered the less-stained man.

“He’s not blaming me, or any of us,” Valerik said heavily, shutting his old journal. “He’s blaming himself.”

“Do you think Uncle Kir would want my who hates who chart?”

“I mean, I think it’d at least give him a laugh.”

“Maybe add a who likes who chart too? That seems less depressing.”

“That’s the squiggly lines. Straight lines for hatred, squiggles for okay with, circles around the pair of names for definitely like each other.”

“…the only pair you have circled is Kir and Anur.”

“Like I said. Circles are for definitely.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t know enough about magical theory to know if Colbern’s idea will work, but it sounds plausible,” Anur admitted, staring up at the ceiling. The moment the door had shut behind Colbern he had slumped back and Kir had tipped over, head settling on Anur’s thigh.

“Same,” Kir admitted, “Building channels for that much power – I’m glad that there was something of a test, with this exorcist ward. It at least is a proof of concept. But there was a defined destination to build to, not his general ‘funnel it back into Hardorn’ idea.”

“It’d essentially be replacing corrupted energy with purified energy, right? So the balance of the land might be restored?”

“If it had happened as the poison was dropped, certainly. But it’s been years, Anur, flooding the naturally occurring channels with purified power after they’ve been drained and warped so long will be – well. Witch-weather will definitely result.”

:Even moreso than there already is,: Aelius pointed out worriedly, :And we’ve been damn lucky that harvests have been damaged in absorbable ways overall. But when Ancar opens another front of his war, and a front where both sides will be flinging magic about? We won’t be so lucky this year.:

“We can send a warning to Valdemar, that there have been signs of increased activity on the Karse-Hardorn border,” Kir offered, rolling back slightly so he could look up at Anur, “And when the fighting actually starts it’d be stranger for you not to know anything.”

“True enough,” Anur agreed, turning that thought over. The whole situation over, because something wasn’t adding up properly.

“There wasn’t concern about witch-weather because of the warding,” he finally said, “I suppose there’s more snow than usual this winter, for Sunhame at least, based on chatter. But nothing I’d point to as definitely witch-weather. What is the difference, then?”

“The channels were built and maintained to funnel power from one stronghold to a place built to hold it, and dismantled afterwards,” Kir said, huffing tiredly and adding, “I think at least. Though I think there’s some sort of initiative on active weather mage workings to balance things back out. I can’t remember if it’s started yet or if it was something Solaris set Karchanek to organizing for implementation come spring.”

:Partially started, if I remember right,: Aelius said thoughtfully, :So I suppose if that gets fully up and working before the ward is dismantled…:

:Valdemar will still be effected,: Kir countered, :That sort of crafting is dependent on knowledge of the land in question, which isn’t exactly available anywhere outside of Karse. As will Hardorn, and the borderlands will feel the effects, if less than the nations in question.:

:Of course, I certainly agree that Valdemar should be warned. Everyone should, really, in case something falls through. Better careful than dead,: Aelius agreed, Anur wondering where on earth his Companion was going with this and by Kir’s puzzled expression he heard the same mulling-something-over tone that Anur did.

An exchange of you-ask no-you-ask expressions later and Aelius laughed at them both before saying, :Colbern referenced channels as if they were people, not something built by people. He also said such people were unlikely to be available, and then had a whole host of ways to work around that absence, but asked for some time to consult some outside expert. Presumably someone who is or knows one of these exceptionally rare Channels.:

“…accurate,” Kir said slowly.

:Yes. Well.: Aelius sighed, his mental presence giving off a definite damn the consequences sensation before he continued, :Look. Companions can be Channels. Are Channels, I suppose. Heralds with the right set of Gifts can serve as intermediaries between us and others – Healers especially are trained to share energies for Healing, and it’s known that Heralds with those Gifts are exceptionally good at it – and that’s because of us.:

Kir slowly pushed himself upright, Anur straightening as well and exchanging a worried look with his brother. It sounded good. Sounded helpful, even. But Aelius wasn’t presenting this as an uncomplicated sort of good news.

:I remember,: Kir said slowly, :You funneled power into my own working, back in the Comb fire.:

:I did,: Aelius agreed, :And if you had been an ounce less skilled at the working you were constructing and myself a hair more careless in the nature of the power I was giving you access to, Talent burnout would have been the least of your worries. But back to this ward dismantling – Kari suggested this possibility, but I think I could channel energy from you. It would at least give energy from backlash somewhere to go besides yourself.:

:Somewhere to go that isn’t yourself or Anur?:

:I believe so. I need to speak to the other Companions about it, but I think so.:

Anur exhaled shakily, pressing his shoulder against Kir’s. “Sounds like that conversation with Harevis and Griffon is just getting longer and more urgent.”

“How will you even explain it?” Kir asked, grimacing, “It’s not like it’s properly necessary – “

“Not properly necessary – !”

:Kir, if you think for one moment that you suffering severe injuries and scarring at best from magical energy backlash when I have any chance to avert it is acceptable, you and I need to have a very long talk,: Aelius said sternly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kir protested, rolling his eyes at Anur’s glower and poking Anur in the ribs, “It’s not, Ari’s sake, I mean from a Valdemaran perspective, Aelius offering to channel magical energy that’s being directed at me doesn’t make sense, and claiming that you are mystically tied into a Karsite border ward to get around that is hardly any better!”

“…I am though,” Anur said finally, throat tight, “Mystically tied into the border ward, I mean. Because you are.”

Kir’s gaze softened and he offered his hand, Anur returning his grip fiercely.

“I know,” Kir agreed quietly, “But that doesn’t make explaining Aelius’ questions to the other Companions any more feasible.”

:Actually, it rather does,: Aelius countered, :Or rather, you’re assuming I would need to explain in full. I can simply say that you two have run afoul of side effects from your attempts at combatting blood magic taint and myself channeling purified energy back into the land would be ideal, please advise. What else could they possibly need to know?:

“They wouldn’t – ask why or how Anur got tied to it?”

:If I told them he was tied to it, and it’s not something that can be undone or unwoven without encountering this issue, they will believe me. Questions for posterity will be asked after the emergency triage situation is over, certainly, but I can stall until after Midsummer for that.:

“The plan was for a calm Midwinter, and this happened. The Midsummer plan hasn’t even been properly formed yet, but it’s definitely not going to be calm,” Anur grumbled, “A nightmare more like.”

“Hmm. Hopefully not,” Kir countered, bumping their shoulders together, “Come now, Anur. Midsummer is what we’ve been working toward this whole time.”

“Eh,” Anur disagreed, tilting his free hand back and forth, “I think that was more Solaris’ Ascent.”

“That was certainly a critical part of the overall plan,” Kir replied, clearly bemused, “But as direly needed as her Ascent and her reforms are, I will admit that I’m rather partial to the one that will mean my brother isn’t considered sub-human at best and willing partner to a maliciously demonic evil at worst.”

:Speaking as the demonic evil in question, I’m rather partial to that one too,: Aelius added. :Though admittedly, my preference is at least in part due to this pretending to be a horse business finally ending.:

He caught Kir’s gaze, and they both started cackling.

“The stud fees – ”

“Just ‘snip the orneriness out of him’!”

“That stablehand!”

“That stablehand’s bedmates!”

:…well at least you two are entertained.:

After the conversations of the past few days, they had desperately needed some laughter. Even better, they still had marks to spare, and no word yet from either Elisia or Captain Marghi to fill them. That made it relatively simple to convince Kir that yes, they both could and should visit Axeli’s forge to update him on the Sun-blessed steel development. The information exchange was going to be verbal only right now so no need to fetch copies of records or anything of the like, and the route was one long memorized. Literally nothing was keeping them from leaving.

All right, so first they reapplied Jaina’s bruise balm and Kir took the chance to ditch his vestments, but then nothing was keeping them from leaving.

They hadn’t even managed to leave the District yet and Anur was already beyond glad Kir had thought to change out of his uniform, and even more glad that the forges Axeli was based out of were on the northern side of the city. The two of them were relatively recognizable within the District, at least in the paths Kir and he usually traversed, but this was the first Midwinter where the District was properly open to any and all pilgrims, and there had been some widely witnessed miracles in the last couple of days. Worse yet, one of those miracles had worn his face.

Well. Their faces, but Kir hadn’t been out and about in crowds when he was manifesting the Voice, and even when he had been manifesting the Voice, he’d been surrounded by fire and wearing a very different outfit instead of the same outfit with some additional accessories.

“Give me your scarf,” he muttered, when he caught yet another person visibly double-take at the sight of him and then whisper to the person next to them.

Kir smirked, and ducked his chin further down into said wonderfully thick scarf, “Oh I couldn’t possibly, my scarf is nowhere near worthy of gracing your presence, Advocatorus.”

“My mother made you that scarf!” Anur protested, and if Kir were any less bruised, he would definitely shove him. A solid shoulder-jostle would do.

“And I’ve bled on it a lot,” Kir countered, definitely taking a page out of Rodri’s book with that attempt at a guileless look, “And gotten it covered in sawdust and pastry flour.”

“Please, that scarf is spotless,” Anur scoffed, giving up on getting to hide his features with a pretense of being colder than he actually was and rolling his eyes, he and Kir both exchanging nods of greeting with the District gatekeepers and blatantly ignoring the speculative looks those soldiers were sending their way. Fortunately once they were out the gates people were far too busy getting where they needed to go to gawk.

“Yes, somehow,” Kir agreed, hesitating before admitting wryly, “I was honestly too relieved about having my winter gear back instead of it vanishing forever to be unnerved that they’re as clean as I’ve ever had them. Your own coat is the same, you realize.”

“Didn’t notice till today,” Anur admitted, “Happened after everything though, it still had bloodstains when I got back to you, I remember Nolans commenting on it. I also remember hanging it away from yours so flour and such wouldn’t hop over, so yours was clean then.”

“Probably the Voice manifestation that made them disappear in the first place,” Kir grimaced, making to hunch into his coat before his bruising evidently protested. “Curious that the same thing didn’t happen to you, timing wise.”

“Hmm. For someone who just finished saying you were too relieved to be unnerved, you’re sounding pretty unnerved,” Anur teased.

“A Voice manifestation cleaned my coat, Anur, I have every right to be unnerved!”

“That’s fair, I’m rather deliberately not thinking about it after my first thanks once I noticed,” Anur allowed, side-stepping an icy patch and Fetching the heel of a person’s boot to the ground when he noticed it about to skid out from under them. Even better, they didn’t miss a step!

:You are getting much better at that,: Aelius complimented.

Kir raised an eyebrow at him, evidently having heard Aelius but not noticed the same use of Fetching, so Anur grinned and Fetched just enough to tug his brother’s scarf, explaining, :Caught someone’s heel, anchored it to the ground before it slipped out from under them. They didn’t even stumble!:

:That is impressive!: Kir agreed, smiling briefly before focusing on the path, :Good to see those how many ways can I trip you up spars have been helpful on other ways too.:

:Oh please you have just as much fun as I do in those,: Anur scoffed.

:But of course. Have to keep your hair trimmed to standards, after all,: Kir mocked.

:Ha! You’d be the first to complain if I cut my hair as short as yours!:

:Eh, it’s ended up in my mouth a couple mornings, I could live without it.:

:Challenge accepted!:

Kir paused, and Anur grimaced when he realized what he’d just proposed. He wouldn’t call himself particularly vain, but he liked his hair the way it was. Also, Kir’s teasing threats about lighting his hair on fire were fun, especially when Kir actually followed through and Anur never felt even a hint of panic about it. It didn’t matter that the smell of pyres could still give him nightmares sometimes, or Rodri’s occasional sparking mishaps had him scrambling away. Kir would never hurt him, and he had easy proof of it on his own head.

Before he could try and recant in such a way that didn’t necessarily result in him discussing his bizarre fixation on his hair’s flammability, Kir huffed a laugh and elbowed him, conceding, :I’d miss getting to threaten your hair, don’t cut it.:

:Ha! I knew it!:

The ring of forges were oddly quiet – it sounded like only a few smiths were in today, which was honestly the quietest it had been in all the times Anur had been here. Worse luck, Axeli’s own forge didn’t look like it was currently occupied –

“In here!” a welcome voice called, the elder smith appearing in the doorway to the one two-story building of the complex, hosting workbenches and shared tools for smiths of varying experience levels on the first floor, and Sunlord knew what on the second. The man had a set of finely crafted jeweler’s lenses in one hand and a small plank of wood with papers secured to it under his arm, but he was properly smiling and waved off someone behind them – likely one of his smiths offering to distract them or run them off.

“No Rodri today?” Axeli said, letting them step through the door before clasping Kir’s shoulder in greeting.

“Not today, no,” Anur supplied, not quite hovering at Kir’s elbow while they followed Axeli up the stairs. He’d never been in here before – they’d only ever really gone to Axeli’s forge, and if Anur were truly honest, had never come here before without at least some intent to do forge work.

“We should have offered,” Kir grimaced, “I had planned to offer. To bring him. Damn it.”

“Kir, I’m quite fond of Rodri, but as it happens, I’m also quite fond of you,” Axeli said, opening the door to a startlingly well-lit office.

“Also, Rodri lives in Sunhame,” the smith continued, setting his jeweler’s lenses and board of papers on his desk before settling his hands on Kir’s shoulders, “I can count the weeks I haven’t seen him at least once on one hand. You’re moving stiffly, is it all right if I hug you?”

“Ah. Yes?” Kir said, sounding very bewildered, but his mental presence was most definitely content when Axeli carefully followed through on that question.

He caught Anur’s gaze over Kir’s head and commented, “He’s much better about hugs now, I suspect that’s your work. Well done.”

Anur grinned, remembering Kir’s early reactions to hugs – and his not as early but far more hilariously dramatic reaction to Solaris hugging him that first time – ignoring Kir’s muffled protests as he said, “Always happy to have my work recognized. Happy Midwinter, Axeli.”

“Happy Midwinter, Anur,” Axeli echoed, stepping back from Kir and giving him a suspicious once-over before offering his hands to clasp and saying, “Rumors I’ve been hearing, I’ll skip Midwinter’s happiness and go straight for wishing you Midwinter’s Peace.”

Kir snorted, returning Axeli’s firm grip as he replied, “Midwinter’s Peace, Axeli,” and Anur could honestly not be surprised when his brother shot him a sardonic look and added, “Perhaps that might kill the curse at last.”

“I’ve conceded the point!” he squawked, but before he and Kir could start what was most definitely going to become another well-worn debate, Axeli coughed into his hand, chuckling when they both focused back on him with matching sheepish expressions.

“So you two did have something to do with the golden flames the other day,” he said, “I wondered, what with the Sun-blessed steel flames seeming similar. Come on, sit down, I’ve got mulled cider to share and an excellent bread and cheese pair to cut it with.”

Anur herded Kir towards the small couch, and didn’t comment on the way Kir had to brace himself to sit without collapsing. By the way Axeli’s eyes narrowed, he caught it too, and was definitely adding it to whatever he’d already deduced watching Kir walk.

“Is this your office as Guildmaster? Don’t think I’ve ever been here,” Kir asked finally, looking around the room, “Mirrors for doubling the light from the windows? That’s clever.”

“Also gives the fancier clients a chance to admire their wearable purchases immediately,” Axeli smirked as he passed Anur two mugs, “Better tips that way.”

Both of them snorted, and Anur waited for Kir to get a firm grip on his cider – his hands had a faint tremor in them, though having something to hold onto got rid of it. He was definitely going to be the main note-taker tonight. After Kir managed a few sips with no sign of that shaking coming back Anur focused on his own cider. It was oddly spiced, but not unpleasantly so. Though actually, he suspected the odd undertones had more to do with what fruits had been used for this…

“You have been here before, by the way,” Axeli continued, settling down with his own mug, “Though you were exceptionally hungover, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

“You know, after hearing that story I’m surprised you drink at all,” Anur said wryly.

“What, and waste some of my rations?” Kir scoffed.

“Oh fine the standard issue stuff, but you buy prodka yourself, you even have preferred distillers,” Anur retorted, taking another sip and humming appreciatively. The flavor was definitely growing on him. “This is great Axeli, thanks.”

“Of course,” Axeli replied, leaning back in his chair. “Who are your preferred distillers, then, Kir?”

“Well if I don’t have to worry about expense, Jaina gave me a bottle of Jazadar Mist, which is amazing – “

“It doesn’t taste any different than what he usually uses,” Anur interrupted.

“It does!” Kir protested, and Axeli nodded agreement.

“If you’re not used to drinking prodka, I can see not tasting a difference, but for that one at least, it makes a difference,” Axeli said, huffing a laugh, “Not that I get the opportunity to drink prodka that high quality very often, but I have had it before.”

“The distillers I usually buy from are in the northern reaches, of course, call themselves Firewater, the furthest south they sell is Ebervergen, it’s a small operation,” Kir continued, smiling ruefully, “Though to be honest I only started buying prodka in the first place when I decided to jury rig my own Second Order Trial, and the goal for that was cheap and flammable. I usually buy their middle of the road alcohol for my flasks. Not terrible to drink, but if I end up using it as an emergency accelerant my soul won’t scream in agony at the waste – ”

:Sorry to interrupt,: Kari said, sounding truly regretful at least. :But I just picked up that medallion and a letter from Elisia, she says she completed testing and it works as we hoped, further details in her note. Should I bring it to you now or leave it in the office?:

:Here,: Kir said immediately, because of course he did.

Kari stepped out of a sunbeam, jumping up onto their laps and tapping a paw against Anur’s leg, a curl of fire leaving behind the medallion and note in question. Before Kir could ask for either of them Axeli spoke up, looking more than a little concerned as he asked, “Do you two need to leave now?”

“No,” Anur said, talking over Kir’s protest as he tucked the medallion into an inner coat pocket before unfolding the letter, “No, Kir. The Captain hasn’t reached out to Kari at all yet, and we have until Descending. Kari’s summary is enough to be getting on with. You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, we’re not cutting this visit short needlessly. We’ll have to get dragged back into gathering new nightmares soon enough. I’ll skim this to make sure nothing immediate needs to be followed up on, but I think Kari would have said if there was any indication of that.”

“Hells, that bad still?” their host winced, “Perhaps I should add a wish for happiness, it at least seems more likely than peace.”

“I’ll stick with peace, thank you, that we properly need help with,” Kir said, “And we haven’t even told you about the new sun-blessed steel phenomenon!”

“Oh?” Axeli asked, raising an eyebrow and finally taking some food off the platter of cold cuts and bread he’d set out, “This have anything to do with that singing Rodri was talking about for your Sun in Glory?”

“Yes, it does, and thank you so much Axeli it’s beautiful,” Kir said, Axeli giving a pleased smile and demurring thanks even while Kir insisted.

Anur huffed a laugh, listening to a definitely well-practiced conversation, and focused on the letter Elisia had sent while Kir started explaining the firestorm Maltin had generated and some of the theories that had been presented since.

To Holiness Kir Dinesh,

Speaking as a heart-reader, ‘lingering after effects’ even existing is horrifying. I have never met someone with that sort of scarring, and do not know if my very stealth-focused Talent would help, but I will think on it.

The necklace works for a person with weak mental shields and no Talents of their own – that would be Pavel. We tested it both as an interruption of an ongoing influence, and as a prevention of influence, and it worked in both cases. I do suspect it could be broken through, but it would be an assault with enough force to render true harm and I am unwilling to test that. As a safeguard from accidental influence, or even low-grade influence or influence not intended to cause true damage, it will do well. If a true assault does happen, even self-built shields can be broken. I think this provides the same security as those.

Teaching shields to people with no Talents can be done. I believe your Enforcer and I learned similar methods, and he said he taught you. The meditation on what is thought or felt, finding your core of self and the world’s echo, using those as a foundation to reinforce the natural shelter of one’s mind.

People with no Talents have some inherent resistance. People with mind-Talents often have less resistance than those without, making shielding for them very, very important.

The only difference in teaching is, I think, in knowing if it worked. Finding your core of self and the world’s echo takes time, and figuring out when you have actually done it and not found an only temporary place to stand is hard. Mind-Talented people can often tell when they have found their core of self and the world’s echo with minimal guidance. Those without need to have someone to test their balance, as it were, and see if they are right, needing someone with a mental Talent able to do so.

That will likely be the hardest bit to making the custom wide spread, and it cannot be skipped. The balance must be found before shields are built. Shields can be built without it, but they will be unstable and collapse unpredictably. If the person with collapsing shields has a mind-Talent, it can be very, very bad. Finding your core of balance after or in the midst of that is a lot more difficult – many children taught themselves crude shields, and we had to tear those down and start anew before sending them on.

The balance point can change too, as you grow. Ingrid could not find and hold hers.

I will think on the wider spread of shield training issue. I will also think on the healing of scars. I give you permission to speak of my existence as a trained heart-reader with regards to testing this necklace. I give you permission to speak to the victim you are seeking to help on the fact I exist and will be looking into what healing I might be able to offer, if they so desire. I do not give you permission to offer sufficient information to identify me, including the fact we are kin, the fact I am married and have living children, and my current and previous profession.

Skies be clear,

Elisia Dinesh

Anur had felt his eyebrow creep up his face as soon as he’d read Pavel’s name, and it hadn’t come down since. This letter was honestly fascinating, and he’d definitely have to reread it after Kir did and ask after some of the wording, because he suspected some of the Karsite tendency to carefully write out only precisely what is meant was in play here. Especially in that final disclaimer, telling Kir to not mention the fact she still had living children.

Ingrid hadn’t been able to find her center. Empathy was a notoriously difficult Talent to build shields for, as quickly as an even experienced user could become convinced whatever they were feeling was in fact their own and not externally sourced. In an environment where any small slip of shields could lead to discovery and death, the occasional flawed attempts that practically everyone ran into when first building shields, but especially Empaths…

It was more surprising that Elisia had managed to survive, than that her daughter had been caught out.

“Anur?”

He looked up from the letter, catching Kir’s worried look and he quickly said, “Nothing urgent, Kir. Nothing in need of a rapid follow up. Just – raised some points to consider later.”

Kir hesitated, clearly wanting to know those details and just as clearly knowing that if they started digging into this, they wouldn’t stop, but Anur took the choice from him and folded the letter up again. Axeli spoke up before Kir could try protesting, so he was definitely of the same mind.

“Sounds like I’m going to need to actually hand over my own notes on the Sun-blessed steel process sometime soon,” Axeli said, huffing a laugh at Kir’s startled look, “Kir, I’ve been sitting on questions about the miracle you crafted since the first arrowheads, and I still have the project proposal you gave me for the first attempt. Never had a reason to hand those off to anyone else, not without you around to approve of it.”

“Oh,” Kir said, still sounding surprised, “I – hadn’t realized you kept that.”

Axeli snorted, “Yes, when you never asked after those papers, I assumed as much. I’ll see if I can get Rodri talking about his own theories, sounds like he has a few, and I’d be interested in getting Acolyte Maltin to witness a forging, he might perceive something different from the rest of us. Sounds like he needs some tempering before that though.”

“He was understandably panicked,” Kir grimaced, practically nose deep in his cider as he admitted, “Not helped at all by what’s happened aside from his firestorm. I already knew the Conclave would have some rough conversations, but with this Oathbreaker getting caught right at the start of it things have gotten so much more complicated.”

Axeli hummed quietly, sounding thoughtful and looking more than a little worried again. Anur pressed his shoulder against Kir’s and kept an eye on his hands, listening to Kir start to ramble his way into a situational summary they’d be sick of giving soon enough, “Those golden flames, you said you saw some of those, it was a joint Voice manifestation, which we’re using it to refer to – “

“Kir,” Axeli interrupted, Kir’s teeth clicking shut. Anur glanced up, but Kir’s tension was definitely only from starting to contemplate all the things they still had to do, and Axeli had a fond expression on his face. “I did see those golden flames, and I heard the basic bare bones announcements and explanations sent out for every congregation at Descending last night.”

Kir was staring, more than a little bewildered.

Axeli took a long draw of cider as he eyed them, and Anur wondered what he was noticing.

“You can give me the eyewitness gossip some other time,” the smith shrugged, smiling as he continued, “But what I really want to hear about are these other siblings of yours! You remembered two, and mentioned a younger sister who came to see you here, right? That’s the Captain?”

“Current Captain, at least, my older sister was a Captain for years too,” Kir said, hesitating before continuing with a cautious sort of delight, “My brother Lukas is a master shipwright now.”

“That’s excellent!” Axeli encouraged, “And what are your sisters’ names, again? Any in-laws?”

Anur could feel Kir’s tension bleeding away, and his brother’s enthusiasm at answering all the questions he’d never been able to answer before quickly picked up. Now for the opportune moment to share some of those excellent childhood stories he had a near duty to pass along…

It was Axeli’s own tasks that finally called them away, much to the smith’s clear regret. But the couple of marks they had managed had been desperately needed, especially after Colbern’s discussion brought up so very many ways a mentorship relationship could go badly wrong. The fact that Axeli had focused their chat on Kir’s family, that Kir had so clearly been thrilled to answer all the questions he’d never had the possibility of answering before – it had been appreciated. It had been good to see.

Anur caught Kir’s elbow and guided him around an icy patch, Kir murmuring thanks but not looking up from Elisia’s letter, finally handed over when they re-entered the District.

Kir finally finished what had to be his third or fourth read through, and folded the letter up to tuck into his vest. He still didn’t say anything.

:Kir?: he finally prompted.

Kir huffed a laugh, shaking his head and replying in kind, :I wasn’t expecting her to trust me with so much information at once. Nothing truly spelled out, fair enough, but telling us Pavel has mental shields is not insignificant. Giving me specific permission to mention her existence as a trained Karsite heart-speaker, minus any information used to identify her – and she only requested I not mention her living children. The fact she even mentioned it – she knows Ingrid’s story might be useful. Might make a point. And she’s giving me permission to use it, if I think it will help.:

Anur hummed, following Kir onto the lesser used paths of the District. Looked like they’d be taking a meandering route back to the Hall – to dodge people, or to extend their time outside after multiple days spent sitting in offices, he didn’t know. He sympathized entirely either way.

:I’m honestly wondering how much training Wes gave her,: Aelius said frankly, :Her wording is vague, but she certainly learned ground and center shielding, and has an understanding of the baseline mental shields non-Talented people have – she even mentions that people with mental Talents often have weaker inborn shielding, which I would not consider common knowledge.:

:She could have figured that out herself though,: Kir pointed out.

:Oh, certainly, she could have figured out everything herself,: Aelius agreed, :Though she did state that her shielding was taught. But teaching shielding and knowing enough to attempt knocking people from their attempted centers to check they’ve found it properly? That is not an easy task. To be frank, the only way Anur would be able to do it is if I worked through him.:

Anur shrugged at Kir’s startled glance, elaborating on Aelius’ claim, :Only because she was referring to testing the balance of non-Talented. I can’t mindspeak with people who aren’t Talented. I can get a general sense of calm or agitated for non-Talented individuals, and that’s something I only picked up in the last couple of years thanks to Aelius. But actually being able to tell they’re even trying to find their center, much less give them a shove to see if they’ve found it? Not without Aelius.:

:Makes teaching it to the general population more difficult, though we knew that already,: Kir said, before visibly setting those long term concerns aside and continiuing, :More immediately though, I’d worry about teaching the Captain – you taught Cora and I, of course, and if you’d like I can serve as the voice, but you’re certainly more expert than me. My own center and grounding – well. It’s very tied up in flames.:

:Yes, I can tell,: Anur said dryly, grinning when Aelius and Kir both snorted.

:I think with Captain Marghi it will depend more on what he’s comfortable with,: Anur continued, :I’d guess Kari can do the same shoving, and I can’t exactly tell him Aelius is the other candidate for testing. Kari is more trustworthy to him, I’d guess. Back to Elisia being able to do it – is this a training thing or a power thing?:

:Bit of both, as usual with these things,: Aelius said, :More control with less power could manage it, but more power could be a little less controlled and also manage. I suspect Elisia has excellent control, however.:

:She’d have to,: Anur agreed, hesitating before he continued, :Empathy’s damn difficult to shield. Finding your own center – that whole find what is yours and set aside what is not – Empathy is hard to do that with. We were taught that Empaths were best taught by Healers, but that’s mostly because lots of Healers are Empaths, I think?:

:That’s my understanding of the policy. Hells it’s not even a policy, it’s just a practice,: Aelius said, :For a situation like theirs… I would bet Wes shielded Elisia himself, or had Seraphi help, for the time it’d take her to properly center. Depends on the person of course, but it can easily take moons of attempts to finally find the right balance. And that sort of timeline wasn’t feasible, here.:

:It’s definitely a situation where it’s more surprising Elisia lived than it is that Ingrid did not, unfortunately,: Anur admitted, ducking his head at Kir’s shaky exhale, :Sorry.:

:It’s nothing I haven’t thought myself,: Kir dismissed, :Though it’s also not something I’m going to be saying to Elisia anytime soon. Right. Aelius or Kari for testing the Captain’s centering, Kari likely will agree to center-testing for the Firestarters, outside of that we’ll have to figure something else out, in all likelihood. Certainly for the long term idea.:

:Hopefully expanding the number of people who know how to shield will generate some new ideas – ah. Kari needs a word,: Aelius said, the Firecat’s voice soon joining their conversation.

:Apologies. Captain Marghi reached out, he is available to meet today and to be frank we need to meet with him today, my aid has had side effects. His own office and home would not suit, your office, Kir?:

:Yes of course,: Kir replied immediately, :Bring him straight there as soon as he likes, we’re almost back.:

“We’ve got aid to offer,” Anur reminded him, not commenting when Kir’s pace picked up and their route became far less meandering, “That’s at least something. And plans to gather more information.”

“It’s something,” Kir agreed grimly, “Now it’s just a question of making it enough.”

=pagebreak=

Well, it wasn’t nooses, but the way his thoughts skipped from one topic to the next so haphazardly now was probably affecting his ability to do his job more.

Scrubbing his face tiredly, Caleb slumped back in the one chair he owned; that was what had prompted this latest thought-skipping frenzy. Meeting with Holiness Dinesh and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy in his own office wasn’t a good idea, especially not with how busy everything was. It was practically impossible to get through a half-mark meeting without interruptions and that was with everyone well aware he was actually having those meetings. Meeting them in his own home had seemed the best option, and it was even clean after his panicked cleaning frenzy yesterday.

He had invited an avatar of his God into his home, and it had been a disaster. But on getting home today – and being handed a cloth-wrapped bottle someone had apparently dropped off for him as thanks for doing his job which was its own problem – he had remembered that he only had one chair. His landlady definitely already suspected he had some form of romantic liaison planned after yesterday’s cleaning, he didn’t need to encourage speculation by asking if he could borrow a chair.

So his own home was out. That had left a very short list of possibilities, and the only one that likely wouldn’t spark an insane amount of gossip was arranging the use of one of the spare rooms in the local Temple. Holiness Cyril had always made a point of letting people use the Temple as a gathering space outside of official services, regardless of whether or not a priestly opinion was being sought out.

But in the most recent services he’d attended, he’d heard chiming that no one else seemed to. Enforcer Bellamy had mentioned a tune when he’d handed over the Sun-blessed arrowhead Caleb planned to never let out of his reach unless and until Holiness Dinesh asked for it back, and at a guess this chiming was somehow related to it, but it was unnerving. The conversation he’d be having today would be unnerving enough already.

Which left the Temple District, and hoping the pair of them had somewhere they could meet. The fact it had taken him over half a mark to get to that conclusion, and that he’d had to write down each logical point so he could pull himself back on track when his thoughts scattered too far to remember where’d they’d come from –

He’d lived with the scarring for years. Doing something about it was obviously going to be just as jarring, if hopefully less lethally dangerous. Didn’t mean his first reaction to noticing his mind wasn’t reacting the way he was used to was anything other than panic.

Who in the hell would give him a bottle this fancy? The fabric for wrapping it was plain enough but that was gold-flaked wax –

He was never going to be able to sharpen this arrowhead, his hands would be sliced to ribbons within a mark. Counting his breathing, Caleb slowly loosened his grip on the arrowhead to slightly less than white-knuckled, and focused on his list of points. Nothing new had been added, and at this point the next step was to reach out to Honored Kari.

:Honored Kari?: he thought as loudly as he dared.

By the immediate flash of alarm-not-his and the flare of fire that followed, the Firecat practically leaping out of the flames, his tone had been a little more desperate than he’d thought.

:Captain?: the Firecat said, settling his front paws on Caleb’s thigh, :You sounded rather alarmed…:

“Can’t think straight,” he managed, waving at his scrap paper, “Thoughts scatter too fast, I needed to call you before I got distracted again.”

:Oh… that scenario should have occurred to me, I apologize, Captain, I should have realized changes that dramatic would take longer than a night to adjust to,: Honored Kari said, rubbing his face against Caleb’s shoulder and giving a rumble of approval when he carefully started scratching the Cat’s ears. :May I see your notes?:

Caleb held the paper up so the Cat could view them more easily, though his handwriting was less than excellent. Honored Kari didn’t seem to have any trouble, laughter a low set of chuffs as he said, :Fair enough, one chair might make things more awkward than necessary. And this chiming you mention is definitely going to fetch some follow up questions. But for the moment, let me assure you that we can easily find space in the Hall for this meeting. In fact, Kir and Anur just re-entered the District themselves. Are you free now?:

“Ah. Yes,” Caleb said, forcing himself to focus on answering the question he’d been presented with. “I have a report to give them, actually. One moment.”

Coat and boots back on, the only currently existing copy of his entirely accurate report from a few days ago tucked under his arm, references to Val as Valerik and Honored Kari’s existence and all, and his arrowhead moved back to his coat pocket for easy access – he could set out for the District as soon as Honored Kari gave the word.

The Cat looked over at him, inclining his head before saying, :Kir says his office would be easiest, and expects to be back there shortly. I can bring you directly there, if you’d prefer, Captain.:

He hesitated only briefly, but the idea of holiday crowds and far larger than usual pilgrimage crowds on top of that and the fact he was apparently recognizable as ‘the one who arrested Vars’ already based on his patrols today – avoiding all of that at least once would be nice, even if the idea of a Firecat transporting him directly to the Incendiary’s office was more than a little mind-boggling.

Not that it took much to be mind-boggling for him in this state –

:Captain?:

Caleb swore under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and not letting himself think through the impulse of grabbing the wrapped bottle of probably-alcohol before saying, “I accept your offer, Honored Kari. Thank you.”

It was almost fortunate his thoughts were so easily scattered. Honored Kari’s transit was disorienting and nauseating, and that was aside from the fact that the office he’d been brought to was empty of people he was being trusted alone in a secured office –

Honored Kari had to herd him into one of the seats, Caleb setting his report and whatever that bottle was on the low table in reach before finding himself with a lap full of fur and honestly just relieved he’d actually gotten to the goal of his whole day even if the idea of trying to explain what he was currently experiencing was most definitely an anxious one, Vars knew something about his scarring there was no way it wouldn’t be almost common knowledge within a moon he had a Firecat in his lap –

“Captain?”

A hand pressed against his, and his return grip was verging on bone-creaking.

“I can’t think straight,” he gasped, “It’s not – it’s better than it was but it’s so hard to think right now.”

:It will settle with time,: Honored Kari broadcast, :But the damage was severe enough – I should have realized one night wouldn’t have been enough to let things settle.:

“Are you able to do a check and give a better estimate?” Holiness Dinesh asked, dragging an empty chair closer with his foot and murmuring, “Anur, can you get my string?”

“Of course,” Enforcer Bellamy replied, outside of Caleb’s field of vision but by the clattering he was gathering things up to evidently move elsewhere. “Captain, have you eaten anything in the last couple of marks?”

“I – don’t know what time it is. I ate just after the noon bells,” he said, blinking, “Is that – would that make a difference?”

“Tiredness and hunger seldom help, and I can’t exactly fix tiredness,” Enforcer Bellamy replied wryly, “I’ll grab something. Your string, Kir, anything else?”

“No, thank you Anur,” the Firestarter said, sitting down in a chair now just off directly across from him and close enough their knees brushed. “Captain, you say you cannot think straight, are there any more specifics? Things that you’ve noticed help or harm?”

“I – probably tiredness, it’s gotten worse as the day’s gone on,” he admitted, staring at the way the man’s fingers were tapping a pattern he couldn’t quite figure out against the back of his hand, still white knuckled around the priest’s wrist. “They skip around, topics, I mean. Sometimes that just happens, but this is – I had to take notes and reread them repeatedly to get to the point of calling Honored Kari to see if we could meet.”

Wait a minute, he knew that rhythm… it was a hymnal tune, wasn’t it?