Chapter One: Within the Wall The sun perched gracelessly atop the Wall. It seemed to shimmer and gutter in the early autumn heat. Last night's rain fled upwards from the cobbles and gutters under it's watchful gaze, filling the air with muggy leavings. Despite this, the streets were lively. People bustled about on business of every sort, pulling carts and pushing half-wagons. Above us all banners hung limp and lifeless from awnings and overhangs, giving the cries of the peddlers full eminence and adding specks of color amongst the brown and grey. The smell of spices and roasting meat and manure added a unique vibrancy you couldn't find anywhere else in the city. We were nearly finished with our guard duty. Odd as it was to have drawn a shift with Day Guard, neither Cedany nor I were complaining. There was a saying among Lord Arin's rushers that where the sun bred peace, and the moon bred chaos. Surrounded by the heat of the day, tempers soared, but men waited until the cool of the night to right any wrongs. Sunlight hours were a time for business, and so it was that we patrolled the market spaces, keeping our eyes sharp for pickpockets, thieves, or con men. As it was, we'd found one man passing fake silver and reprimanded three younglings for diving into coffers they had no claim to. I turned to look over my shoulder, seeking out my watch partner. She still bore the black eye she'd earned in a brawl two nights ago on Cartmans Street, and under my worn leather braces I hid a bandaged slash from an errant blade. Three others in the Night Guard were in the infirmary for broken bones, and one for a head wound that everyone suspected he'd die from. Yes, Day Guard was a pleasant change from months prowling the alleys by night. The moment the sun was out of sight we would be clear to report back to the courtyard for muster. I knew that at this very moment our friends in the Night Guard would be milling about, joking and teasing and wondering what the night would hold. It had been a hot, miserable day, and I sent out a quiet prayer of thanks that my sister and I had been spared. Cedany was a pretty thing, spared so far the broken noses and mismatched cheekbones of the veteran rushers. I had not been so lucky, and would carry the scar on my right eyebrow and cheek for the rest of my days. Still, all things considered, it was better than starving. “Aye there lasses,” a voice said, breaking into my thoughts. He harbored the heavy brogue of the city slums. He eyed our silver and blue undershirts with a careful eye, smiling. “Either 'o you lookin' to buy a bauble or trinket? Got's me a fair beautiful-” “Not interested,” Cedany broke him off. “We're on duty, lad.” The man puffed up, face taking on a tint of red. “Now, don't you scorn me, high-classy-lassy, I'll 'ave you know 'ese bits and pieces is-” Cedany loosened her sword, lifting it only an inch and letting it fall back down into it's sheath. The soft click it made was enough to halt the man's speech. I guessed the man had assumed we were fresh out of the academy, soft and sweet as peaches, ripe to picked. “Now you listen here, ye brute,” Cedany said, slipping into poor man's cant to catch his ears. We may have been taught better since, but it was hard to forget slum blood. “I'll be havin' none of your tricks here! I ent no poor lass withou' a bit of sense between my ears. Con me outta me eatin' money, will ye? Git outta me face afore I stick this sword so far up yer bum yer tongue turns ta steel!” If he had pegged us wrong before, he had our true measure now. The familiars at the market, the sort with permanent stalls or them as set up here every day, watched us with gaping mouths. I was certain they'd spent a fair amount of time snickering and cracking jokes at our expense, as folk well familiar with one another were wont to do. The man looked from Cedany to me, face pale, and I raised my brows. “T'wer it me in yer place,” I whispered, “I'd do as she says.” He backpedaled and disappeared amongst the crowd. We'd only hired on as Lord Arin's rushers two years past, but it made us more senior than most young folk in his service. Almost all under two and a half decades or so washed out in training or were killed flat out of the gates. Granted, most of the latter were soft bred golden babes, joining up to seek glory and adventure. Them who've been fed their whole lives and never really worked for much don't come into it knowing what they're up against. Personally I'd rather have been born into wealth, but this was the life the gods gave me this go around, so I suppose what's done is done. We walked only a while longer, canvasing the South Market, stopping now and then to check if folk were passing true currency or had their trade papers. Every so often we'd find some fool trying to peddle this or that without Lord Arin's seal, and those were the worst to put in chains. His taxes were hard, and almost all you could earn went back into keeping your rights to sell. Most folk still figured it was better than begging, but there were always the unlucky exceptions. For all those we hauled in for selling under the law, we took as many parents who'd maimed a child to set out begging. Poor folk found coin hiding in the strangest of places. Cedany joked occasionally that the streets have gotten fair passable now that the temples pay to have them cleaned, and that it was a sad state when folk had to shovel their neighbor's scum to feed their babes. As the market place fell into shadow, I let out a sigh. Time to head in. We made our way through the streets, climbing upwards ever so steadily, to the castle that sat atop the center hill. It was a grand, dark building. Folk said it had sat atop Griffen Hill for longer than man had even existed, that the godsfolk had built it and the Wall too, with ancient magics. It certainly looked that old, but as to old magic I had no idea. It seemed strange to me that mages, even the reincarnated ones, mightn't be able to use a spell after a certain time. Even at the city's highest point the Wall's dark stone stretched above our head, if only by a few dozen feet, by my best guess. At the gates it was an indomitable source of awe, and fear. At then end of the day though, as long as it kept the creatures out, I was content. The closer were grew to the city center, the greener things became. For every sloped, tiled roof there was a flat one with plants and grasses growing atop it. Water barrels sat at the street corners, and here the peddlers sold fruits and vegetables instead of greasy meats. The streets were free of urchins and beggars and dead animals, and for every bit of pig and goat manure there was horse manure too. Horses were a great luxury to keep in the city, and only the families with old gold and ties to farms could afford to keep them. I'd only ever seen a horse three times, and was grateful for it. Dogs and chickens and small creatures I could handle, but the size of a noble's mount reminded me too much of the stories I'd heard as a child, of the beasts that used to ravage mankind. We came to the courtyard at last and found that we were near about the last pair to arrive. It was well known that Lord Arin's master of coin didn't like to leave the castle grounds more often than he had to, so we always waited until the last of us returned before giving our reports. If they were late, we assumed death. If they were simply lollygagging, they didn't get last night's pay. I led Cedany over to the nearest wall, planning to lounge until the call went out, and to enjoy the clean scent of the upper city. Most of the folk that surrounded us, maybe twenty groups in all, were unfamiliar, and I had no real desire to socialize until a familiar trio caught my eye. I nudged Cedany and began making my way forwards. One woman, short of stature and sharp of feature, stood between two very large men. Where her hair was clipped short around the ears, both of the men sported ponytails and long beards. They were identical, wore themselves the same for no reason other than to confuse people. It had been quite some time before Cedany and I had learned to tell them apart. “They put you in Day Guard too?” I called out by way of greeting. The woman turned and while a smile graced her lips, her eyes held suspicion. “Aranya, Cedany. I'd say I'm happy to see you, but it'd be a lie.” Cedany scoffed and crossed her arms, taking offense into her aura. Loriah held up her hands, trying to placate the girl, and her smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant I think there's dark mischief about, is all, and I'd rather you be left out of it.” I raised a brow. All day I'd been considering it a fluke of sorts, but if Loriah thought otherwise it was worth pause. A cold stone settled in my gut. “Oh?” The man on her right, Willem, sighed. “It's the groups pulled. Have you seen the others?” I shook my head. I hadn't seen anyone else from Night Guard until now. Loriah and the Dunsford brothers were one of the best pairs, and if I had to admit, it seemed like folly to pull them off the streets on a day like today. Cale, Willem's brother, raised a hand and began ticking off names on his fingers. “There's us and you two, of course, but we also saw Pigeon's group and Natyre's. It doesn't make sense.” I frowned. He had a point, each group named had a reputation among Night Guard. In the end I only shrugged. Cedany said, “I agree with Aranya. It's not for me to question Lord Arin. So long as I get paid, I don't care what he does with us.” She shrugged as well. Just then, Pigeon's group of three and Natyre's came into the courtyard. They seemed deep in conversation, troubled, and froze when they saw us clustered together. With universal frowns they made their way towards us. I looked around and saw the rest of Day Guard eyeing us with a degree of speculation. They seemed as caught off guard as we were. Pigeon was a strange woman, but still one who's company I enjoyed. She had a way of letting other's thoughts and opinions of her roll off like rain on a wing. I could not recall her real name, because I'd only ever heard her hailed as Pigeon. As the story went, on her first day of training she had boasted that, growing up on the streets, she learned how to coo like a pigeon to draw the birds in. Apparently they made for good eating, but few others seemed to have aquired the taste. The young girl had seemed so proud that she didn't understand or even notice the senior's jokes and jibes. They had named her Pigeon to make a fool of her, but in the end it had stuck. Now she was five years into the service and highly regarded to boot. She had dark hair and grey eyes that flashed with worry. She spoke first, as our groups merged, in a low tone. “Well, ain't this a surprise. I don't suppose any of you know the meaning of this?” Cale grimaced and shook his head. “We were just chewing that bit 'o gristle ourselves.” Apparently Pigeon and Natyre's groups had been the last out, because before either could speak up the castle bell tolled. Our watch was officially over. We sighed and turned to the gates, watching as a small man and several soldiers emerged from the castle close. A long path separated the castle walls and the iron gates that kept us from them, and few bore the patience to cope with this. The master of coin, a sleezy man known to us only as Verenthon, seemed to take his time every single shift. “Mayhaps he wouldn't be so sour if he'd only hire apprentices to handle the later musters,” Pigeon muttered under her breath. Cenday grinned and said, “Heaven forbid there be someone our Lord might replace him with.” Verenthon called out the first pair, a regular on the Day Guard, handing one a small pouch of coin. It was up to us to decide how it ought be split, which was why we were allowed to choose our own walking partners, less it come to blood. One after another was called up, until it became evident us Night Guards would be saved for last. Each group called forth, each that left before us, made us more and more sullen. Finally the last of the Day Watch had fled until no one else remained. Verenthon did a strange thing. Instead of calling a pair forth, he took a step back and craned his small, balding head over a shoulder, glancing back towards the castle. We waved, beckoning to someone I couldn't see. I made no sense of the situation, and turned to Loriah in a certain sort of panic. She had been Cedany and I's training master. We had walked our first rounds with her and the Dunsfords, and even now that we had a beat of our own her opinions of such held weight. She only sighed, and said, “And here it comes. Well, lads and lasses, we'd best face our fate.” She was the most senior among us, having been working the streets of Callais for fifteen years. To a guard, that was ancient. Criminals knew the shape of her boot prints, knew her favorite places to eat, the routes she might be likely to walk, and avoided them. When she stepped forward, the rest of us followed, whether we wished it or not. Halfway to the gate a man in robes began making his way down from the castle, a pile of scrolls in his arms. My gut turned to water and I felt my knees wobble as I walked, the cold stone in my gut turning to lead. I looked to Cedany, and found her normally pale skin now akin to milk. One of Natyre's girls, Ellewyn Hallis, shoved her hands into the pockets of her breaches and I wagered it was to hide their shaking. At the gate the soldiers halted us without a word, only moving a hand from their belt to hilt of the sword that swung at each hip. Verenthon said nothing, only eyed us, level as could be. By the time the man in robes reached us an uneasy silence had turned the air to mud, and I found breathing more difficult than it should have been. His clothes were fine velvet, embroidered with thread-of-gold and silver. His hands shone with rings, and he wore a strange pendulum about his neck. As to his features, he had a kind set to his face, but his eyes were a hard green. He did not look like he was vexed with us, but I had never seen him before and was too nervous to take his measure. When he spoke, he addressed us all. “Lord Arin requests your talents in a certain business of great importance. Do you all know your letters?” Only Hallis, Natyre, and Pigeon did not. For those of us that did, he passed out scrolls and sticks of charcoal, and bid us write our names under a bit of text. The writing swirled on the page in an elegant hand, and I wondered absently what manner of scholar had drawn it up. I peaked at Cedany's and saw hers to be much the same as mine, word for word. “The form bids you state your loyalty to Lord Arin, that should you disobey his will you forfeit service the the guard and any right to work within the city henceforth.” I was shocked, as if a fist had slammed itself into my belly. I froze, hand shaking so badly that even if I'd wanted to sign I would not have been able. Why did he ask this of us? A sharp elbow caught my ribs and I bit my tongue to keep from yelping. Loriah stood beside me, glaring up at me with sharp eyes. She would say nothing, but the look spoke volumes. Sign, fool. I unrolled my paper and scrawled 'Aranya Eloise' at the bottom without reading whatever it was I passed away. It seemed we had precious few rights as is, but I would not dwell on it. The others we scrawling their names, or in the three illiterate's cases marking an X, so I did the same. The man in robes showed no satisfaction until we handed our parchment back, and he had accounted for each and every one of us. “Welcome, friends!” He may have titled us so, but I was not so quick to believe. His hard eyes had turned warm. “I am Mage Neluin, come to bring you forth into Lord Arin's audience. Come.” He waved two fingers and turned, clearly expecting us to follow. Verenthon walked at his side, chin up and back un-hunched, while the soldiers parted. Loriah once more led us forth, her shoulders set in confidence I wondered if she truly possessed. The soldiers walked at our side, perhaps to escort, perhaps to guard. My mind had latched onto the man's name. Mage Neluin? Not the one the men whispered about in taverns, not Lord Arin's personal mage. There were maybe a dozen trained mages in the city now, perhaps it was just a common calling among magefolk. They said Lord Arin's mage could turn bronze to gold, grow crops in sand and salt, and even bring folk back from the dead. It was the last that so unsettled me, and I kept as far back from him as I could. I turned to Cedany and wanted desperately to know her word on all of this, but no one else spoke, and I did not want to single us out. I could see why it might take Verenthon so long to reach us, now that I walked the path myself. It might have been circumstance, but I could have sworn I spent a lifetime alone on that cobble road. I wanted nothing more than to turn tail, but of the four soldiers among us, one walked at the rear. At the end stood another wall, not a tenth so grand at the Wall that guarded the city, but stone and solid and breached only a by a narrow gate. The portcullis had been drawn up, and I flinched upon spotting it's iron spikes suspended above our heads. I skipped past quickly, nervous that whatever rope or chain held it might give way. I had never been into the castle before. For all that I was scared, I could not seem to keep my eyes within my skull. They bulged, begging to be set free so that they might see the wonders around us. Gardens bloomed so wide and deep that I wondered if they might be called farms. The slope of the hill and shelters atop the wall had been deceiving, making the castle seem much larger than it was. The stone house was still the most impressive structure I had ever visited, excepting perhaps the Grand Temple, but only because this did not have so much colored glass. It was not the structure that held me though. Within the wall a small village seemed to thrive. I saw blacksmiths at work, toilers grubbing amongst the soil and plants, men moving cattle and boys driving geese and sheep. An open face stable showed seven horses right there, larger than any I'd seen before. They milled about until catching wind of us, at which some shied backwards and others kicked their stalls. Nervously I skittered aside a pace or so, and earned myself a scoff from a soldier for my troubles. When folk caught site of Neluin they stopped whatever chore they had been about and bowed. Certainly he is the mage they all speak of, I told myself, and didn't know what to make of it. Within the heart of the village sat the true castle, with several towers and more shimmering window panes than I'd ever seen on one building. The sun rested well below the wall by now but they glowed ruby still, reflecting the clouds. The doors were not guarded by men in tatty leathers or rusted mail, but by soldiers adorned in shining metal plate. I could see jewels glinting at the pommels of their weapons. The castle's main entrance was composed of two monstrous wooden doors, arched and engraved with striding horsemen and hounds and beasts I could not name. I thought I might stand there all day reading the carving's story, but we were hustled on. “Would you look at that...” I murmured to Cedany, awed. “On'y a man wiv more gold 'en sense would spend it on fancy wood,” Cedany murmured back in poor man's cant, rolling her eyes, resentful. On her other side Pigeon snickered. If I thought the doors were worth a day, I could have spent a year in the hall. It's floor was stone, only it was hewn level and fit together without gap. On the far sides lay rushes, divided by a carpet of blue and silver rolled out down the middle, leading towards a raised platform, upon which sat a long table and a dozen or so chairs. More tables with benches on either side lined the walls and sat mostly empty, but at a glance I could guess they might house up to two hundred people. The windows were tall and veined with metal in curling designs, with panes cut to fit the strange shapes left in between. Between the windows hung wide, tall pieces of cloth embroidered with magnificent depictions of people and beasts and places I had never fathomed might exist. Neluin did not halt at all, and his pace was far too fast for my liking, distracted as I was. I had almost forgotten to be fearful. I wondered how I would ever sleep tonight, back in the slums. Cedany and I shared a small room in a lodging house, within nothing more than a three-legged table and two pallets to sleep on. Our windows had no glass, only rickety shutters. We had no horses or soldiers or gardens, only rats and filth. We were led around the dais and through a short hall. I lost track of the doors we passed, the paintings on the walls, and the servants who scurried to get out of our way. Eventually we spilled into a room of middling size and comparatively bland décor. A table sat in it's middle winged by simple chairs, and at its head stood a tall, lean man. His hair was such a pale sort of bland that it appeared nearly white. He craned over some sort of parchment, but it was his clothing that caught my eye. His doublet was of the finest silk I'd ever seen, rich and blue in color, accented with white trim and grey embroidery. I could not see the pattern from my place at the back of the pack but it seem quite intricate. A velvet half cape was slung over his shoulders and clasped with a sapphire broach the size of a duck's egg. He looked up at the sound of our approach, but had eyes for Neluin alone. “Are these all of them?” I felt Cedany bristle beside me. If we found his tone direct and somewhat rude, Neluin disagreed. “Yes my lord, all those you've selected.” “Hmm,” he said by way of response and turned his gaze back to whatever was spread before him. A jolt sped through my body and unless I was incorrect, through several others among us. My lord? I wasn't sure who among us had ever seen Lord Arin, but I was certainly not among them. Surely if anyone in this castle could upstage a mage by way of garb, it would be him. I wandered frantically if we should bow or kneel, something, but Neluin spoke once more before I could do or say anything. The mage had turned back to us, a smile on his face. “We have much to discuss. Please, sit-” “No, don't bother,” Lord Arin interrupted. “This shan't take long. Give them their orders.” Unless I was mistaken, Neluin sighed as he made his way to a low desk on the far wall. He lay his hands atop its surface and paused, seeming to focus. To my utter alarm his hands took up a shimmer glow before an audible click was heard through the room. The desks doors sprang up and form within the mage extracted several scrolls, somewhat larger than those we had already signed. I didn't bother unrolling mine, as Neluin began talking once more. “I'm sure you've all heard the talk in the streets,” he said by way of beginning. I could hear poorly muted excitement in the undercurrent of his words. “The outside world is beginning to calm. Our king has taken great measure to combat the beasts beyond our walls, and his efforts are more than evident. Carrier hawks are surviving their flights between cities, farmers have been able to expand their lands. The golden age has come again, my friends.” Neluin's smile was broad and brimming with excitement. It struck me that he seemed somewhat undignified for a mage, reminding more of a troublesome school boy than a dignified scholar. I saw Willem suck in his cheek, biting on the flesh he caught there. He wanted to speak, but would not. “Our Lord, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to make good on this opportunity. It has been four centuries since our current era began, since civilized folk set foot into the wilds beyond the walls. We all know that is it the quick man, the sharp man, who makes good on a ripe opportunity. Lord Arin means to be the first to begin merchant trade once more.” Cale sighed and frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Beggin' your pardons, m'lord, but what's this have to do with us?” I winced, wondering if he had spoken out of turn, earning us the ire of the mage or our lord. My eyes flitted to the lean, slender man who still had yet to so much as gaze at us. The corner of his mouth twitched down into a small frown. Neluin opened his mouth to speak, but Lord Arin beat him to it. “I'm sending a caravan to seek out the mountain clans. I'm told you are the finest guards in the lowest part of our otherwise fine city. I mean to use you as guards.” Cedany gasped under her breath, and I turned in time to see the color flee form her cheeks. Her hand locked around my forearm like a vice, and I wondered if she might faint. I pulled her in, so that she might lean on me. It would not do to make a fool of herself in his presence. All around us I felt the aura of our group change from surprise to absolute horror. The Dunsford brothers looked as pale as Cedany, where as Pigeon had taken on a green tinge. Lord Arin looked up for the first time to gauge our reaction, and his frown became a sneer. “How promising,” he quipped dryly. “You all leave tomorrow morning. You have this evening to conclude your affairs in the city, and you will meet with your wagon masters tomorrow at the northern gate. Leave at the first call, no later.” He dropped his gaze once more. “I will permit each of you one piece of gear from the castle armory, to be returned upon your return. Your scrolls there hold the rest of what you need to know.” He fell silent, and just like that we were dismissed. Neluin bowed, but we did not. I could not speak for the others but my body had seemingly stopped listening to my minds commands. Cold lead had filtered into my veins and numbed me. I do not remember leaving that room, or the other halls we were lead down after leaving that small, sparse room. It was in a daze that we shuffled along after the mage, like so many sheep. I could not say who we passed or whether we stopped or not along the way, but only that no one made so much as a single sound. The smell of wood smoke and burning things brought me back into reality. A gush of hot air swept into my face and eyes, making them sting. I blinked and rubbed at them, finally looking up to find us in a small courtyard of sorts. The setting sun had delved the outside world into semi-darkness, broken only by a ruddy orange light from numerous fires. A nest of forges and a slew of anvils, each manned by a smith of their own, sat off to one side. Closer to us was an open face shelter of sorts, having on three walls. Weapons and pieces of armor hung from the walls, and upon the ground sat rows of chests filled with things I could not name. Small children hefted buckets of water and charcoal to and fro, while older men shouted orders above a raucous din of banging tongs and roaring flames. Neluin strode forward and activity came to a sudden halt. He paused, slipping his hands into his sleeves and looking out over the men with something akin to distaste. “Master Orlan?” “Aye, m'lord,” came the call from farther within the shadows. A large man emerged, wearing only a shirt, breeches, boots, and a leather apron. His skin was darkened with soot and he bore scars on his hands and arms, burns by my best guess. His forearms were taught with muscle. As to his features, he seemed plain and hard, with a stout jawline and no hair at all atop his head, countered by a short but coarse beard obscuring his chin. I could not pick out the color of his eyes. “These brave souls are off to do our lord's bidding. He has offered each a piece of equipment. Please outfit them according to their wishes.” If Master Orlan began to grimace, as I suspected he did, he hid it quickly. “Aye. Mighty generous of him.” “Indeed,” Neluin said dryly, then turned back towards the way we had come. As a parting gesture he called over his shoulder, “Farewell, cityfolk. I wish you all the luck in the world.” My mouth turned back to cotton, reminded once more of what we faced on the morrow. As the mage left, activity picked up once more, but I did not miss the gazes that lingered quite a while upon us. Master Orlan looked down at us all, and I noticed he stood and inch or two taller than even Willem and Cale. He crossed his tree trunk arms and frowned. “Pardon my saying, but you don't look like those our gracious lord typically goes after.” Loriah stepped up, dwarfed by the man's breadth and height. She couldn't have weighed more than nine stone and he nearly twenty of hard muscle, but she did not appear daunted. “No pardons needed, like as not we all agree with you.” She cast a glance over her shoulder and found the rest of us still pale, clumped together like so many sheep. Master Orlan rubbed a hand along his chin and hummed. “Well, not my place to pry. Let's get this sorted out.” He herded us towards the open face shelter and took us one by one inside. He moved deftly around the small space, evidence of long hours and much practice. I wondered what his place here was, and after seeing a handful of small boys trip over themselves to remove themselves from his path, it came to me that master smith would be a likely guess. I watched as Loriah accepted a short sword in a dark leather sheath, as Willem strapped on a longsword and as Cale accepted a bastard sword with a grin. As guards we were expected to carry blades within the walls at all times, but it was not provided for us. Even veterans like those three oft had to do with cheep iron and shoddy craftsmanship. Even from several paces away I could the gleam of well made steel, the shine of leather well cared for, and the dull distaste in Master Orlan's face for every blade he gave away. Pigeon turned away a blade, taking instead a new leather jerkin, without patch or mend. It bore no device or ornament, but by my best wager it would have cost me six months pay to buy for myself. It seemed sturdy, and fit her like a glove. Her two companions, Lej and Sammin, took a shirt of mail each. As the youngest, Cedany and I hung back yet to watch Natyre, Hallis, and Maven step forward. Natyre chose a true sword for himself, gleaming and new, with silver wire decorating the handle. To me it seemed a flashy exuberance, especially when his frame would lend much better to a short sword. Hallis took a long bow for herself, and I smiled despite myself in memory of a drunken wager I had once witnessed. Hallis had worked atop the city wall before coming down as a guard. She had been among those tasked to drive back the flying beasts that might swoop down upon the cityfolk inside. Last winter a farmer in from the fields, drinking away the woe of losing his fourth and last son to wilds, had struck up an argument with her that ended with the tall, lean woman outshooting him arrow for arrow in the muster courtyard and walking away with a fat sack of coin. Cedany watched this too with a bright gleam in her eye. After his other teammates had made their choices, quiet Mavin strode forth and selected a mail shirt without so much as a word. I had been so distracted in watching the others choose theirs that I had not thought about my own at all. Cedany grabbed my arm and dragged me forth, all to the tune of my low curses. I heard a chuckle from behind us, which I pointedly ignored. Master Orlan peered down at us from under heavy brows, and sighed. He seemed about done with all this charity, and I felt that his temper was somewhat shorter than it had been an hour ago. Nerves dried my throat, leaving Cedany all the room she wanted to proudly claim her desire for a bow. My eyes narrowed and my head whipped towards her. Impulse was no reason to be feckless, and she ought to have better sense than that. She caught my look and glared back in turn. With a huff she turned back, watching Master Orlan test the bend in the unstrung bows at hand. Under her breath she said, “Don't stare so, Aranya. Your face looks sour and pinched.” I ignored the jab and ground my teeth. “Cedany, you don't even know how to shoot.” “I'll learn.” I ran a hand through long, unbound locks and sighed in frustration. I knew the set to her jaw, defiance at it's finest. “This is important. Who says your chipped iron will suffice when we're-” The words caught in my throat and I swallowed, painfully. “Well.” Her skin lost a bit of it's color, but she said nothing. Master Orlan returned with an unstrung stave and a coiled bowstring. He handed both to my sister and raised a brow. “Can you string it?” She took the items and weighed them in her hand for just a moment. Knowing her as I did, my guess was that she was marveling. With a bright grin she looped one end of the string around one notched wooden end before planting it firmly in the ground between her feet. She fumbled a bit with how best to go about her task but in only a moment she was bending the stave to her will. Somewhat awkwardly, if without struggle, she looped on the other half of the now taught string and presented it to the master smith. He simply hummed and said, “It'll serve. Keep that oiled, now.” He turned to me and raised a brow, asking in a silent way what I would demand of him. I kicked a toe in the ashy dirt, suddenly nervous. I hardly felt the type to ask anything of these important castle folk, and I think Orlan knew it. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, truly I did, but no words came out. The behemoth smith sighed, and perchance he softened a degree. “Well, best look about, eh?” He clapped a massive ham of a hand onto my shoulder and steered me in among the racks. My eyes traced the elegant pommels and handles, caught the gleaming of the fire reflected in well polished metals. I was swimming in the sight of it all, overloaded almost to the point of numbness. Orlan stopped us while facing the back wall, where dozens of blades hung. “What sort do you carry now?” My hand ghosted over to brush the hilt of my beaten and battered short sword. I had won it in a wager when I was but fifteen. Together, it and I had done some fair terrible things to find the money to feed my sister and I. When we had enough for armor of our own, it had been into the guards and no questions asked. “S-Short sword,” I stuttered out, forcing my mind back into the present moment. Master Orlan hummed and moved us down a ways. “I'd see your blade, if you don't mind.” It was near enough to an order from the big man that I didn't hesitate. Smooth as water I freed the sword and handed it over, hilt first. He smiled at the sight of it, shoddy as it was, and I saw in him a true fondness for his craft. “Hmm. Not too bad for a street blade. Old, though. Honed too thin, eh, but sturdy. Balance is well enough, too. Well then...” He held it out and I eagerly reclaimed it, relieved. The smith had his eyes back on the wall, and in short order had pulled down two different blades. He seemed about to turn them over for my inspection when he gave me a hard look. I didn't know what to make of it, but before I could ask what he wished he had a low chest opened and hands roving about within. A third blade in a dusty scabbard joined the two others and he laid them down atop a cluttered work table. “Let's see how these suit, eh?” My fingers itched to rove over the steel and I could not keep a small smile from claiming my lips. The first sword sat in a soft brown scabbard, engraved with what seemed to be swooping falcons. The blade was narrow, no longer than the length of my arm, and when hoisted it seemed to sit well in my hand. The pommel was adored with a leaf-and-vine design. I liked it well enough, but did not want to be hasty. I slid it back in its cover and moved on. The second had come from the wall as well, and sat in a sheath dyed black and without design. It's handle was simple, it's pommel without design, and when set free I found the blade a bit too long for my liking. It was quickly returned and forgotten. The third blade was covered in dust and cobwebs, as if it had been stowed for quite some time. I brushed away the debris with a deft hand so that I might see what lay underneath. The scabbard was nicked and scuffed, showing quite a bit of use. It's handle was made of leather woven and braided into design, and a deep red stone I could not name was set into the silver pommel. The blade, when brought forth into the light of the fires, seemed to glimmer as the others had not. A pattern akin to rippling water played across it's surface, and while it boasted numerous scratches, it held not a nick or bend. I held it, twisting this way and that, and smiled. Orlan hummed again. “My 'pprentice boy found that buried deep in the castle library, along with a few others. Caught my memory that it was nearabout the same build as your iron sticker there. Old steel, but good nonetheless.” “It will serve,” I said with a smile. I turned to look at him and said, “Thank you, Master Orlan.” It may have been the firelight but it struck me that the large man might have been blushing. He turned and ushered us all away from the forge. A child, likely one of the apprentices he spoke of, trotted forward and made to lead us from the castle but the smith waved him away. As we walked through the castle once more, he peered down at me. “Might be I'm suspicious, but seems to me it's an ill wind that sends city folk on business needin' a lord's steel blessing.” I bit my lower lip, fighting to keep the blood from fleeing my face yet again. In all truth, I hated the dizzy rush it left behind. I nodded by way of answer. Master Orlan sighed. “Between me and you good cityfolk,” he murmured under his breath, tossing a look over his shoulder to check for company, “We've been set to running the forges triple time. Couldn't say what out lord's preparin' for but it twists my tripes. Maybe it's not so bad that you all have some good craft to back you, if you're to be the first spark on the kindlin', as it seems may be.” That did little to sooth me, and I winced. No one else seemed to have aught to say, either. Maybe the other groups would be fit for a such a thing, but Cedany and I were babes in comparison. There were a handful of groups leagues more capable and experienced than we. Choosing Loriah, Natyre, and Pigeon seemed like a fair strategy, but we felt more like a draw from a hat. I looked at the large man's scars again and wondered how many came from his work, and if any had been earn elsewhere. He seemed a hard sort, and worldly. I might have asked him what he thought of life outside the wall, but something told me we weren't supposed to speak of the task we'd been given, even if our lord or the mage hadn't specifically said so. Before long we were walking back through the long hall, and out of the beautiful double doors. Orlan bid us farewell then with a gruff nod and a final look at me, and at the sword strapped over my shoulder. “Luck, good folk. Like as not you'll need it.” A forced a weak smile and said, “Thanks again.” The others mumbled their thanks as well but then we were off, descending the path and then the sloping road back into our cesspool. Natyre's group peeled away first, living the farthest from our district, without so much as a by-your-leave. I didn't hold the bad manners against them, though. Not a one of us seemed in a fit mood to converse, with our orders looming heavy over us. My own scroll remained unread, folded twice and again and resting now in the pocket of my breeches. Now that I'd thought of it, it seemed to burn there and itch to be read. I did my best to ignore it, nodding a silent farewell to Pigeon as she led her partners away as well. Loriah sighed, when the five of us were alone, relatively speaking. She ducked into a shallow alley not far from Cedany and mine's lodging house. She ran a hand through her short brown hair, and I smiled, knowing that I had picked up the same habit of aggravation from her. “I don't like this one bit,” she murmured. “Nor I,” Willem agreed, “but there's naught we can do for it.” “Orders are orders,” his brother agreed. Loriah chewed at her lower lip, clearly thinking hard. “I'm thinking I might bring along the new boy,” she said finally, and sounded guilty about it. Willem's countenance darkened and he shook his head. “This is no mission for green boys, Loriah Kyre.” “He's not green,” she snapped, “He's just no guard yet.” She must have noticed the confusion on mine and Cedany's face because she turned and grimaced. “I took on a new trainee. Needed the extra coin, with winter coming. No fair to take him on and leave him for a month with naught to do. He's got promise. No use letting him get after other work.” “Our lord won't outfit him,” Cale said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. I got the sense that neither man was overly fond of whoever they spoke of. The rumble in their voices reminded me of the times Cedany or I would act the fool and get cuffed for it. Loriah waved that off. “He's well kitted. Consider it settled, the more help we can get the happier I'll be. This is no drop-of-the-hat plan, despite how that honey tongued mage played it. I knew it when we mustered, and I know it now. Something's afoot.” “Aye, and there's naught we can do but do as we're bid. I won't loose sleep over it,” Cale said gruffly, pulling out his dagger to begin cleaning under his nails. I wondered absently if he was telling the truth. “Not the first time we've been out, anyways.” My jaw dropped. I hadn't known either of the Dunsford brothers had ever set foot into the plains that nestled our hilltop city. Cedany seemed equally struck, but as always she was quicker with her words than I. “Why on earth did you ever have to leave?” Willem shrugged and looked away towards the mouth of the alley. “We were nine, Hossolf thirteen. Our Da was short of coin so he lent us out to farmerfolk for a week.” “What was it like?” I asked in a quiet voice. Cale let out a chuckle. “Dunno. We only made it six miles down the road before a Wyvern fell in and snatched up two other boys with us. Second pass around it took a horse, third time around it set fire to the supply train we rode with. Didn't stay to see what would happen next. Hossolf took up the reins of our guard's charger, swept Willem and I onto its rump and ran the beast all the way back to the Wall.” My knees shook so bad I had to sit down. I felt as if I was going to turn out my stomach right there before them all, and I clenched my teeth tight. Two sharp slaps and a string of curses brought my head back up and I found a very angry Loriah glaring down the twins, each man nursing a cheek. Sharply, she asked, “Did you need to do that?” “Did you?” Willem asked, an angry coal alight in deep blue eyes. “Yes! No use working them up, and making this worse than it is!” Cedany's shaky voice broke in, quiet yet claiming dominance over the argument. She seemed so small and delicate, there among the alley scum, all pale skin and fair hair. “Word is it's not so bad anymore though, right? Going on two decades now, or so it's said.” Cale glared at their smallest teammate before sighing. “Sure, lass.” Loriah gave us a weak smile before moving her fingers to a pouch on her sword belt. She dug about for a moment before pulling out two silver coins. She held them out, and frowned when I didn't reach to take them. “Get yourself a good meal. We'll all be doing the same.” “We don't need-” Cedany cut me off by giving me a shove and taking the coins herself. With a glare tailored for me and me alone, she tucked them away into her own purse. Willem chuckled at the exchange. “If we wanted to be charitable, we'd hand out fur boots and capes, thick woolens and gloves.” My brows drew together. “Autumn's just started. We won't need furs for at least two more months.” Willem shook his head and offered a small smile, clearly amused. “You think the whole world's the exact same as our little cage? I take it you haven't read over our orders.” Cedany and I dumbly shook our heads. Loriah smiled wolfishly. “We're headed up.”

Chapter two: wayward soon Our two silver had gotten Cedany and I each a hot meal, but more importantly it had gotten us to a map. As a more experienced team, Loriah and the Dunsford brothers had cultivated relations with certain folk around the city. One of their best informants happened to run an alehouse on the border between the slums and the nicer neighborhoods, and fancied himself an scholar. Where most folk put their money into a trade or sale rights, he bought books, maps, and rumors. The Flighty Fox was always loud and brimming with business, yet had a reputation for low violence, seeing as the Lordsmen and women were in and out as often as not. I'd always thought it cunning of the bar master, Tomran Losso, to build it so. Us lawful folk ate at a quarter off the price, his place was clean, the cook skilled. Losso fell in favor with the guards and drunken tongues wagged loose. Loriah and the brothers were greeted at the door, a halloo called out over the din. The bar wenches smiled and fluttered their lashes at the boys, and Loriah had to tug on Willem's ear when he made to veer off course. Neither had taken a woman to wife yet, for all that I knew. Cedany had always speculated that both held out for their small, snarky partner, but I waved that off as a matter of convenience. We were led up to the bar, where a grinning Losso waited for us. He was quivering and fidgety, as was his way, and always seemed to have a snippet on his tongue yet hardly ever spoke without first being prompted. He was a pudgy man, soft and smooth, the only mark of what must have been affluence. His apron was as stained as any other, and his brown woolen tunic patched and frayed. “Master Losso, hello again,” Loriah said, extending a hand and forearm. Tomran leaned over the bar, skewing a stack of tankards and nearly knocking them over with his girth. Cale's hand darted forward and caught them before they toppled, while the barkeep grasped Loriah's arm in greeting, chuckling all the while. I doubted he had even noticed. “Loriah and crew, hullo! Strange to see you here so early in the evening. From Jens or Hrotham I might expect it, not not from you!” He jested, rather blatantly fishing for our story. I looked down at my boots to hide a grin. “Strange things, stranger tidings. Might you have a private room?” Loriah had only to flash Lord Arin's seal for a costly room to be cleared. Losso set his own daughter to lead us, to tend our jacks and our bellies while the man himself disappeared into his private rooms in the rear, fetching maps and scrolls and tomes. The room itself, once we had arrived, was warm and cozy and windowless. Oil lamps hung from every wall and cast a flickering, orange light over everything within. A long table surrounded by high backed chairs sat in the middle of the room, atop a beautifully woven rug. Paintings hung in spare space, and on closer examination I noticed that most of the wooden furniture was engraved with designs and runes. We spent the majority of our evening there, bent over a table with the bar master hovering like a fly to a carcass. It was the first time I'd ever seen a map of ought other than the city itself, Cedany too, and I knew she tried as hard as I not to ogle. Losso knew his business, anyone with a wit of sense would give him that, and his collection of documents was more than impressive. I say glances of mountains and rivers, far away cities I had never even heard of, all placed before us and taken away far too quickly. I saw maps of the Great Range that bisected Valrein, and for the first time our plainsland which seemed to sit just east of the southern hills. To the north the mounds turned to jagged spires, and according to Loriah, that was where we were headed. She and the twins seemed rather stern and professional, almost scholarly, though I could not say the same for Cedany or myself. Neither of us had ever seen anything of the like, had had no notion of the appearance of the realm we called home. I could like as not find a way from the South Market to the slave cages bound and gagged, but any notion of the world beyond the wall was lost to me. In truth, it still turned my stomach to think of it. As children, Cedany had seen the world beyond only once. Nan had taken us both to the East Gate one morning and set us to watching as the sun breached the top of the Wall, and the portcullis began to rise, as the great gate doors began to swing outward. The outer doors, twenty feet tall and a foot thick, as ancient as the city itself, had creaked with the most horrible sound. Spring had turned the grasses beyond a vibrant green, and thousands of stalks had quivered in the morning haze, rolling along for as far as the eye could see. A gust of wind and blown inward, pushing away out the smell of the cart animals and spiced meats, and replacing them with something moist and foreign. I had never been half so afraid. We'd grown up hearing of the giant snakes that burrowed deep underground, of hawks as big as a wagon, the griffins, the drakes, even dragons. It had been all Nan could do to keep us from running and wailing back to the compound. “You're looking at a two week journey north. Say you'll spend a day or three restocking supplies before you turn south again. By my best guess you won't be gone much more than a month,” Losso said, tracing the route we'd most likely take. He'd had some merchantmen in house just the other day, or so they had self-styled themselves. “Hadn't given it much credit until now,” he said. “Know ought of the mountain terrain? What we should expect from the weather?” Willem asked, gruff and apparently disturbed. Losso let loose a hoarse laugh and ran a hand over a balding head. “Cold. Damn cold, even. We've got three months before Dead Winter?” Loriah nodded and frowned. He laughed again. “I'd be surprised if you didn't see snow. Mayhaps not much until later, but even so. I've got here,” he said and paused, shuffling and ruffling through tomes and scrolls for a long moment while we waited. “Ah ha! Here. Record of a band of monks, tried to start up a monastery deep in the range, found some source of something or other, I s'pose. Thought their gods would protect them from all else, but come the thaw they were found frozen through and through, all down in a cellar.” “When was that?” Cedany asked, her voice much like the chirp of a young bird. “Mayhap a century before the Lords Era,” Losso answered quickly, brows lifting. I wondered if he'd forgotten we were there. I grimaced. It got cold here in the winter, sure, but never enough to freeze a person solid. I had no furs, only the heavy wools and wrappings most folk had, and were wearing thin besides. Cedany grimaced and opened her mouth, probably to curse but Willem interrupted with complaints of his own. “Snow already? Might be they'd have given us more time to prepare.” Losso grinned and leaned over the table. “Could be I'd strike a deal with you.” Loriah raised a brow. “Could be we're listening.” “I've a friend in the west markets, keeps an open ear for me. Trades in some such things as might be helpful. I could send out a word.” Her raised brow rose higher, but she did not speak. Losso was practically quivering with excitement though, and seemed to garner no shame in quickly taking her bait. I wondered if he had been hoping for something like this. He went on. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, you know. Suppose one of your younglings here keeps a journal on the road. I'll buy it back from you on your return, as recompense, or such. So long as the works good, of course.” Cale caught us in his gaze, but spoke to the barkeep. “Aye, both lasses know their letters.” “Marvelous! A deal struck then!” Our shoulders slumped. Nan had made sure we knew what little her own mother had taught her, but we were hardly versed in the business of it. I could scrawl my name, mark down a date, could make my way through any bit of parchment that might aim to cheat me. But keep a travel log? Gods above, I didn't even know what sorts of things he'd want to know about! Losso chuckled and dug for a clean sheaf of paper, and produced a charcoal stick form his breast pocket. He scribbled a quick note down before peaking his head out the door. I watched as he drew his fingers to his lips and whistled. In short order he'd drawn a serving girl up from the lower level. With an easy smile and a coin passed between them, the girl was off. When the barkeep returned to us he looked like a cat in the cream. “It's arranged then. One of my man's apprentices will await you at the gate before you set out.” Willem growled, “And if he doesn't?” “Have faith, Master Dunsford,” Losso crowed, patting the much larger man on his shoulder as he walked back behind the table. “Have I let you down thus far in our wondrous partnership?” “I'll not disgrace you by answering that,” Loriah mumbled under her breath, bringing a smirk to my face. Shortly after that Cedany and I were turned out. We'd been fed and informed as well as we could hope, but beyond that Loriah wanted to talk numbers and details. Seeing as we'd carry the pack they handed us, walk where they led, and do as we were bid, it didn't matter much what we thought of it all. Cale led us to the front of the ale house with something like a sad smile on his face, and I wondered if maybe he felt a little sorry for us. Not for tonight of course, but for tomorrow night, and the ones that would follow. We were hardly to the door when a rather buxom serving girl caught him by the arm and leaned up to whisper in his ear. Cedany and I turned away, attention fixed on the far side of the street. I heard a scuffle behind us and turned back to find Cale staring up at the rafters with color in his cheeks. “Look, I didn't-” Cedany raised a hand to stop him, knowing I would not. “Oh, be quiet, Cale.” The Dunsford brothers, while fierce as any men I'd ever seen, could be surprisingly meek around those they had an affection for. It was a trait I'd always enjoyed in the twins, something distinctly fatherly. “Well, it's only that- Knowing as we do, Willem and I always try to-” I rolled my eyes. “What's past is past. We're in our Lord's service for a reason, after all. It's your last night in the city, don't apologize.” Cale seemed to waver, but he finally nodded, gruff once more. “Right, then. Stay safe, two less will be missed out there.” “Such kind words,” Cedany snorted. “Fills me with confidence, they do.” Cale stepped back into the light, and I didn't miss the way he scanned the crowds for something in particular. When the door closed between us, shutting out the light and most of the sound, I grew surprisingly cold. I wrapped by arms around my chest to hold in a shiver. Cedany turned us towards the wall and we began a long walk home. The streets were waking up with the night folk. Men fresh in from the fields and looking for ale and women, children set free from their day's work, all sorts out seeking the Night Markets or gambling dens. I always liked the city at night, no matter what might be in the shadows. It was almost ethereal, the way the torch and lamp light lit the cobbles and faces of all those we passed. As if we were underwater, or in a dream. But the scents of spice and refuse and grime were real, as was the laughter and shouts that echoed in the night. With the season turning the harvest was in full swing, and folk finally had coin in their pocket and spirit in their chests. Cedany broke in my thoughts with considerably more sombre words. “Do you think we might be a little hard on the brothers?” I frowned. She took my silence as either disagreement or refusal to answer, and pressed on. “It's only I wonder sometimes because they're grown men and all, and we're younger, but we expect them to act a certain way just to keep us happy. Doesn't seem fair, is all. 'Ent like we're their kids.” Slowly I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground. My finger ran up and down the hilt of my sword, absentmindedly. “No, I understand. 'Spose part of me agrees.” I shrugged as I paused, thinking. Neither of us cared for this conversation. “I wish we didn't have to think about it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Me too. But you're right. Ought to be something we get over, sooner or later.” The matter was easier to speak about than to act on. Memories flashed in my mind's eye, bringing a different sort of chill into my bones. Cedany nodded slowly, but didn't speak again. I kept a keen eye out for pickpockets while we walked, knowing Cedany wasn't always of a mind to be vigilant. Our lodging house, Mistress Sam's, was a poor comparison to the grandeur we'd seen earlier in the night. I thought of the hewn stone, those beautiful doors, and I grew sullen. The only markings our door bore were a series of runes carved in before Cedany and I had joined the guards, meaning the house was a good mark for thieves. They'd worn down now, though, no longer heeded. It was not overly late, but we were still quiet as we made our way up to the third floor. A level below us, one room was claimed by a drunk who'd threatened on multiple occasions to throw us out himself, should we wake him again. I'd no doubt it would prove more difficult than he would bargain for, but Mistress Sam brokered no violence. It wasn't worth hunting down a new home. Beyond the usual creak of an older staircase, we arrived at our door without incident, and I found myself lamenting this to a certain degree. A fight, strong words, anything really would have been welcomed to take my mind away from the looming certainty of our future. This time tomorrow night we would find ourselves under the stars in a way I'd never thought to face. I wanted to cry. I sat down heavily upon an overturned crate that made for one of our chairs. Cedany did the same, and both of us waited in something akin only to sullen silence. How did we fare so poorly in the gods' eyes to be chosen for this? “It must have been a fluke,” I murmured. “Hmm?” I could only shrug. “I don't know. Them picking us for this. Us picking the guard. Being born when we were.” Anything could fill the thought I'd conjured. Cedany chuckled darkly and rolled her eyes. “Woe to you if you had been born some other time, you know you're dung without me at your side.” Her boast was made in good humor. I took it with rolling eyes and a great huff. The first memory I had of Cedany was catching a glimpse of cornsilk blond hair from across the pen. She had been such a small thing, her little dress well-made and costly at one point or another, but right then she stood covered in dirt and refuse the same as the rest of us. Her face was red and swollen, her cheek bruised and a lip split. A man had come by and eyed the girl like she was a suckling pig, and I walked right to the wicker cage wall and kicked shit into his eye. After that I never let the younger girl out of my sight. Fed her, kept her warm, kept the others away. Nan had bought us not long after. “Well, I'm grateful to have been around this long, at least. Gods only know how much time we've got left.” Cedany reached up and raked her fingers through her braid, pulling out the tie and letting the yellow strands fall freely. She didn't seem as if she wanted to answer. I stood and made my way towards the sleeping pallet I'd claimed as my own. Slowly, stiffly, I removed my leathers until I wore nothing other than my breeches and undershirt. My sword, the new one at any rate, I lay down beside the mat. Only one time since leaving Nan had we needed to bare steel in our own home, and ever since I'd remembered the worth of having it near at hand. I stared down at the floor, eyes bleary with exhaustion. It wasn't even past midnight yet, never mind that our watch typically stretched hours further into the night. I felt as if I'd done a months work in a day. “I'm sure I'll have my fair share of nightmares tonight. Best get started on sleep now.” Cedany nodded, but her eyes were distant. I knew she'd come to bed in her own time, so I turned away. Sleep fell upon me with gusto, and while I was certain I dreamed, the details were lost. Chapter Two We needed no hailing from the watchmen, no runner sent early, as some folk did. When Cedany and I awoke it felt as though we had hardly slept at all. Ever since we were children, I've had a terrible habit of waking up in the same strange way. Where as Cedany slid peacefully into consciousness, I tended to ricochet awake with violent force, jolting and gasping. One morning she'd watched me do so and said it was as if someone threw a sack of 'Good Morning' at my face with utmost force. I could attest to it feeling similar. She laughed when I jolted upwards, a light sound that set me instantly on edge. It appeared that sometime in the night I'd acquired a pounding headache, and even though the sun had yet to rise, my eyes smarted. “Shut up,” I groaned, voice hoarse with sleep. “Good morning,” she said sweetly, mockingly. I'd almost forgotten why we were both awake before the sun even dusted the horizon. We dressed in silence. I spent longer than I ever had before looking over my leathers. I noted every nick, every stitch out of place, every loose strap. I cursed myself for neglecting their proper maintenance, and wondered if I'd curse any a second time once it was too late. I donned them quickly and moved on to my rucksack. It was a simple thing, hardly different from a burlap food sack, only with rope straps to sling over my shoulders. I folded up my night shift, grabbed my winter woolens from one of the crates we used as chairs, and tucked both away. I thought my thin gloves would be better than nothing, so I packed those too. It was a paltry gathering, all said and done. I looked at the rucksack with something akin to disgust. “It's not much, is it?” Cedany said quietly, but I jumped all the same. My gaze flicked to her, down to her own small gathering, and back up. “It'll be better with Master Losso's things.” Cedany rolled her eyes. “Like as not we'll be paying for those all the same. Knowing your letters isn't the same as being able to fit 'em together neat and pretty.” “He can have the lot of it, so long as we're there to give it to him.” Cedany only nodded, and began to plait her hair. The sky had just started to lighten as we made our way down the stairs and out into the street. Black had become a rich deep violet, but the stars winked on. Circumnavigating the city center took time, and I had no wish to be tardy. It might save us half an hour to cut straight through, but that was another risk that hardly struck me as worth taking. The guards there might know us but the soldiers wouldn't, and being detained and molested would be a terrible way to start our voyage. Much better to take our chances with the thieves and drunkards closer to the Wall. As we stepped from the stoop to the street, I took in a deep breath. The typical city smells were bogged down by the morning damp, weak and stale. It was close to eerily quiet, with only a handful of other folk up and about. For each man that passed us, beginning his day, the night of two drunks was just coming to a close. The stumbled about and called to one another, cursing vividly for no apparent reason at all. Alcohol had no savor for me, though Cedany was like to disagree on most occasions. I focused instead on the weight of my new sword hanging heavy at my hip. In truth it was no heavier than I was used to, yet it seemed unusual and gawky. As we walked the sky lightened, accompanied by the first hint of the day's heat. I could hardly believe that I had wools and gloves in my pack, when for all that I could tell it would be a fair brutal day as far as early autumn went. It was muggy and still, uncomfortably clammy in the shadows. The closer we drew to the North Gate the busier things became, and all the louder too. At once it seemed we had been surrounded by a great beast, with the growing crowd bustling and rumbling around us. I saw too many long, drawn faces to count. The apprehension was so strong it was hard to breathe in, and even as we came into the crowd itself I could not reconcile that we would be going beyond the Wall. Twice a day working folk were cast in and out of the city, but the men and women forced to find a living beyond it's walls were damned creatures. Losso said it changed a person, made them more wild and fierce just to be a part of that untamed world beyond. The farms and fields needed to keep the city alive were hard places, and did not hold men long. It was one part farming, he said, one part fighting back the scrub and stones that tried to take hold in the fields, and two parts defending yourself from all manner of terrible things. I'd been weaned on the legends just as anyone else was, but those seemed comfortably tame compared to standing where we stood, waiting to become a part of one. From around the final bend, hidden then revealed all at once, the portcullis was bared. Somehow I got the notion that it was glaring down at us from afar, though no more than three city blocks held us from the wall's base. The great doors and gate were only mayhaps twenty feet in height, but the wall was nearly four times it's size. Even so the inner portcullis was made of wrought iron and steel, coiled together in an intricate pattern. It was not the simple up and down bars that marked the cells or certain windows, but swirling designs. Leaves and vines seemed to grow where in truth there was metal. Though they had stood for hundreds and hundreds of years they did not rust. The double doors beyond were made of wood banded with iron, each log the width of a man's outstretched arms, finger tip to fingertip. They were massive and smooth, though held no design or frivolity. A crank chain could lift the portcullis, but the doors had to be opened or closed by a winch on either side, each manned by a team of oxen. The sun had not yet crested the wall, but the sky was turning a pale lavender in color and the stars were beginning to fade away. All at once there was no more city between the gate and ourselves, only a crowded courtyard. As the gates opened only twice a day, most favored being early rather than late. Commerce still moved through the plaza center, but the fringes were clustered with long faced, dour men and women. And unspoken law seemed to demand that no one get closer than ten paces to the gate itself, though there was no sign of guard or posting. While all this together made finding our companions considerably harder, I was simply glad to realize we had made it on time. Cedany jabbed her elbow into my ribs and I winced, turning with a scowl to find her pointing off a ways. “There they are.” I followed the digit and found her to be correct. While Loriah was out of view, I could see the twins standing a head above all those that surrounded them. I attempted patience, following in my sister's wake, but she soon grew frustrated and began pushing and elbowing her way through the masses. Perhaps it worked, but we got enough scowls and shoves in return that I cursed her for being so hotheaded. Loriah must have seen or heard the disturbance because when we came face to face at last she was standing before the twins, arms crossed. “You made it.” “Glad to see you had so much faith,” Cedany grumbled. In response Loriah turned, grabbed two packs equal in size to our own, and tossed them at our feet. “The old dough ball was good on his bargain. I looked myself, those are sturdy enough. Not too pretty, but I won't complain.” On top of my own bag she tossed a leather bound booklet of parchment and a tiny purse. “That,” Willem said, “is also for you.” He grinned like the fool he was, meanwhile I stooped to retrieve the smaller bag. Peeking inside I found metal quill tips. Presumably we were to find the feathers and ink pigments on our own. “Ah, you're back! Did you find them?” I turned to see Loriah addressing a young man, perhaps only a few years older than myself. He had slipped from the crowd and into our own bit of space unnoticed, and stood now with his thumbs slung through his sword belt. He carried a thin, short blade and had an unstrung bow wedged into the top of his pack, as well as a dagger on his other hip. His clothes were dyed entirely black from head to toe, and even his features seemed to have taken it in. His skin was fair enough, but his hair was a dark sort of brown. If his eyes were anything other than dark grey, I was not close enough to see. He bore a scar running from the bottom of his jaw and down his neck, halfway across his throat. I saw Cedany staring as well, eyes narrowed. The pose he held was at ease, despite the situation we'd found ourselves in. He had a disinterested look to his face that set my teeth on edge. “Yes. They're by the herd pens, closer up on the left.” His eyes scanned away from Loriah, dusted over the twins, before settling at last on my sister and I. He frowned, and flicked his gaze over the both of us from top to bottom. “We're taking these younglings?” For all that his haughty gaze dug in under my skin, Cedany seemed fit to throw herself at him. I felt her stiffen at my side, could practically feel the heated anger rolling off of her in waves. She took a step, but by then my hand was already on her shoulder and squeezing tight. “I'd watch that tongue, boy,” Cale growled. He did not seem inclined to respond, only sucked in on a cheek and turned to look out over the crowd. “Well,” Loriah said by way of breaking in. I noticed a degree of disapproval in her eyes but I couldn't tell who precisely it was directed at. “Aranya, Cedany, this is Hiram. He'll be along with us for this little foray. Hiram, these are the Eloise sisters.” He raised a brow, and a smirk crawled onto his lips. “Eloise? As in Netonya Eloise, the old bat what once worked the lasses down on Rose Way?” A chill filled my gut, and Cedany ripped from my grasp. Her cry of rage was something like a wounded animal, and something like the banshee call Nan had once imitated for us in a bed time story after we'd tried sneaking away. It had terrified me half to death. I stood frozen there in the plaza as my mind begun to spin. How had he known about that, it was so long ago. The compound had been taken over years ago, and caught fire not long after. It had been razed, how on earth did this pigass of a lad know anything about Nan? I heard a startled 'oof' as Cedany made contact with Hiram. She must have caught him by surprise, because she only landed a single fist on his cheekbone before his hands were up, defending himself. I only managed a sluggish half step to pull my sister away before Willem and Cale were there, throwing the two apart. Both toppled beneath the men's strength, sailed back a pace or two, before landing in the dirt. I saw the blonde girl, smaller now in comparison, attempt to rise but Cale planted a boot in the center of her leather chest guard. She struggled for only a moment before sinking into panting defeat. “Perhaps you're both more interesting than I thought,” Hiram muttered, dabbing at his bleeding lip and wiggling his jaw, feeling along the line of his cheekbone for breakage. “First whores, then guards, now brawlers.” Cedany shrieked again, writhing against Cale's limb, fire in her eyes and street grime in her pale hair. “Let me up you colossal oaf, or I swear I'll geld you in your sleep.” “Can't do it lass,” he said through gritted teeth. Cedany whipped a hand upwards and sank her nails into the part of his leg behind the knee, guarded not by leathers or boots, but only britches. Cale howled. I shouldered my way between them all. The world had turned cold and slow and my whole body seemed to tingle. I would kill him. The word he'd said repeated in my mind again and again, growing louder. Whore, whore, whore... Eight years I'd lived with Nan. Eight years I'd watched Cedany suffer her tutelage, and gone through it myself. Her lessons. Her stories of sweet little girls getting mangled on the street corners when they left home, stories of what she would let the men do if we misbehaved. It turned my stomach even now, and I wasn't certain if I would retch or fall to bits. My body felt like ice. I strode past Willem, who stood looming over Hiram and bodily shoved him aside. I stooped and grasped Hiram by the neck of his tunic and hauled him upwards with a strength many were surprised to learn I possessed. When he stood my grip slid from hem to throat and I began to squeeze. Gently at first, noting the feel of the raised scar beneath my palm, then steadily tighter. I could not hear the sounds of the plaza over the buzz of blood in my ears, so if they made a peep it did not register. All I heard was my own whisper, as I leaned in closer. His eyes, a dark iron grey, seemed both fascinated and afraid. “You will never speak of this again.” I dropped him, and with a rush sound and motion poured back around us. Hiram gasped and all at once Loriah was at my side. I heard the slap before I felt the sting on my cheek. I hissed in pain, but did not speak against it. Another slap echoed out into the morning, and I heard Hiram groan. When the woman turned on me it was hard to remember that she was a good three or four inches shorter than I. Her face was tight with a quiet anger that I had no doubt was raging beneath her exterior. I realized all at once that our part of the plaza had frozen around us, as men and women paused in their day to watch one guard nearly kill another. “We are about to leave the only world you've ever known,” she said quietly. “And venture into one infinitely more dangerous. I will not have this sort of behavior once we pass those gates, do you understand?” I nodded, mute. She turned to Hiram and locked him in her viper's stare. He froze just as I had. “I would rather hang you both from the first tree we pass under than have this sort of business spring up and threaten us all. Do you understand?” He nodded, mute. “Come on. The other teams will be arriving soon, I'd think.” She turned and pushed her way into the crowd, disappearing among them.

Chapter three: the world beyond Willem grunted and frowned. "Right. We've work to do, and it's high time we were off." He straightened and turned to face the onlookers. "And what exactly do you lot think yer doing? Better have a bloody good reason to be peeping in on Lord Arin's business!" They scattered. Arin's name was usually good for that, if little else. As Cale lifted his foot from Cedany and began to follow his team mate, I watched her gaze move to Hiram once more. I moved to offer her an arm, and as I pulled her to her feet I muttered, "Down, sister. Loriah is right, not matter how much I wish she wasn't. Whether he's a saint or an ass, he's our teammate now." Hiram did not seem to be listening to any of us, but stared out across the crowd. He hadn't even picked himself up off the ground yet. Cedany pushed away from me and crossed her arms, but did not yell as I thought she might. A look of irritation came into her eyes. "He'll make an issue of it again, anyone with two wits can see that. Don't think I'm done with it.” I nodded slowly and looked outward, trying to follow Willem and Cale's retreating backs so as not to lose them amongst the crowd. "I know." I led my sister along their trail, leaving the Hiram to make his own way in his own time. By the glow above the wall I doubted we had any more than another dozen minutes before they cast us out. It wasn't long before a rather unusual sight appeared between the writhing mass of the crowd. Large carts, larger than I'd ever seen and far too wide for most roads, lined up near the wall. Hooked up to the fronts were small horses, lazy and a lackluster grey color. Donkeys, maybe, but I'd never seen one myself. I'd heard they pulled plows and whatnot on farms, though. I saw the citizens eyeing the men with wary distrust, and as I caught my first glance of the merchants themselves I found I recognized none of them. They stood in the open space that others left obviously void. Several seemed to be young men, likely picked off the streets by the patches and grime on their clothes. They fidgeted, obviously ill at ease. A few among them wore clothing of a finer quality, neat and new and well dyed. They laughed amongst one another, chatting and smiling. One man, large and in worn traveling clothes, stood with arms crossed in conversation with our own leader. Loriah seemed dwarfed by him as she often did. Curious as to what they were discussing, I moved in to listen. “Don' you worry yerself 'bout food. Been taken care of by your Lordly Lord it has. 'Ent a one of us need worry 'bout starvin.” “We hear that a lot in the poorer parts of the city, pardon me if I don't take you at your word.” Despite her dry, unimpressed retort the larger man laughed. He had barely any belly on him but it still seemed to shake in his merriment. “Fiesty, eh? You'll do well on the road.” He turned and began to address one of his men instead. I eyed one of the donkey's from afar and frowned. It was a bit smaller than a horse, so perhaps it wouldn't be so unnerving as it's larger brethren. When I was very young, even before Nan, I'd been tasked with herding small animals from market to market. Hogs, goats, geese, anything that my birth parents would set me to. I grew to love the little creatures, especially watching their ways and mannerisms. It was a quirk that never left me even as I aged, and Cedany says I have a way with them. A pigeon's coo sounded across the plaza, louder than you'd think, and fairly easy to recognize. I turned with a smile to see another three person team walking up, laden with packs and ringmail that glinted in the sunlight. They were young, fresh, all smiles, and I knew they carried not a piece of their own gear. The coo came from the only girl among them, short and thin and red of hair, nicknamed Pigeon in her first week as a rusher. Like so many others in the guard, she grew up in the alley ways. On her first day of training she'd made a boast about having to eat the birds to get by, and about how she had learned how to call them in. Loriah claimed the girl had been asked more times than were worth counting to show off the call, and the poor thing had never even recognized the mockery in the seniors interest. She'd been stuck with the nickname Pigeon ever since. It had never seemed to bother her though, and as time passed she'd made it her own, as a sort of trademark. Of the boys walking behind her, one had a short and squat build, like the mastiffs kept to guard the shops in the upper quarters. His face may have been wide and flat, but his eyes danced with a familiar ease. The second had mousey hair and a lean frame accompanied by more scars that I'd ever be able to count, all over his body. Like Cedany and I Lej had grown up in the slave pens but instead of being sold to a brothel he had been selled to the fighting pits. All three were older than Cedany and I, but not by much. Loriah called out to them. "Pigeon, Jahkob, Lej. Nice to see you made it." Willem growled out, "You're late." Pigeon laughed it off, and shrugged under a pack near as large as she was. A short sword swung at her hip. "You try waking these louts up." Loriah smiled. She glanced at Willem and Cale over her shoulder. "Tell me about it. Did you see Mavin's bunch on your way in? Or the Eboneye?" Pigeon frowned, eyes widening in surprise. "No. Are they finishing our happy little gathering?" Loriah nodded, and looked back to the gate. "An Eboneye?" Hiram mused coming to stand by us again, ignorant of or ignoring his swelling cheek. Our three newcomers made no mention of it, but I saw Lej eyeing the dark boy with curiosity. "Odd that a Clan would send one of their children on job like this." "Probably a fifth son, or lesser," Cedany said with a scoff. "I would wonder more at a Corrinth, or a Whittery," I mused. The sun's brillance crested the wall. It illuminated the plaza with a dull gold, and the crowd surrounding us stilled and fell quiet. It's roar became a plaintive whisper and a chill traveled down my spine. Loriah quietly cursed the absence of our last team, craning her neck and raising herself up onto her toes, trying to scan the crowd. Just as the guards called for the gate to open, they pushed and shoved their way to our side. Two women, tall Hallis and dark, sharp Mavin, and a mousey man of middling age named Natyre. All looked shaken and tousled. The gate's chains made a terrible screeching noise, and groaned under the forces exerted on it's hinges. With a slow crank, crank, crank the portcullis began to lift. “You're late,” Willem growled. The twins, being the most senior among us all, looked unimpressed. While no team had an official leader, a certain hierarchy was noted in every pair or trio set to a shift. It was more or less common knowledge that Mavin gave the orders and the other two heeded her. My encounters with her had been scarce, but from what I've heard her temper was almost as formidable as her love for mead. “We're here, aren't we?” They moved in among us, murmuring to Lej's team and giving their own interrogation to the merchant crew. The clansman arrived separately, mounted, with three body servants accompanying him to the gate. His horse was a stocky, thick necked thing with a long mane and tail, with extra fur adorned around it's hooves as well. It snorted and tossed it's head, nervous at the crowd pressed so close. I had only ever seen a horse a handful of times, and tried not to stare. They were an expensive luxury, when their feed had to be carted in from the outside. His rider was clad in full plate, which had to be rather heavy, never mind the weight of his body. It all looked finely crafted, from the steel of his armor to the leather of his saddle and riggings. The Eboneye colors, black and purple, glinted on its every ornament. A great-sword was strapped over his back, and a quiver hung at his side, though I saw no bow. The guards around me shifted with displeasure, though Loriah in particular was dominated by a smoldering glare. I hissed at her and she flinched, snapping back into reality. He glare turned on me for an instant before she quelled the storm. Willem sighed and cleared his throat, tipping his head towards the gate. The portcullis had reached it's apex, and the thick wooden outer doors began to move as well. The earth rumbled beneath our feet, and a tight feeling gripped my intestines. My nails dug into the palms of my hands, and as the blood rushed from my cheeks I felt the nature of the crowd shift. Unease and discomfort shifted to a resolute resignation, and we all turned as one to watch the gate's slow progress. The clansmen had arrived just in time. There was no grand fanfare, no trumpets or flower petals, only a grinding noise and the clanking of chains. Once it had spread the width of several men abrest, ratty street urchins ran forward, trying to catch a glimpse outwards and smell the strange, sweet air. They did not make it far before guards moved to chase them back with the butts of their pikes. The passing cityfolk took a few careful steps away. Even those no where near the men themselves, but the farm hands just hunched their shoulders and waited for the clear. The Eboneye cracked some kind of joke with his servants, and their laughter broke the tense silence. I noticed a group of men flinch and turn on him, only to see the horse and glinting steel, and slink further back into the crowd. From within the cluster I heard a child began to wail. I'm with you, little one, I thought dryly, despairing. “First call, out! First call, in!” The guard wore a blue and grey cape over his dull mail, and his eyes looked warily over his shoulder. You could only go in or out of the city when the gates opened, no exceptions. In theory, if someone missed the evening call they could wait until morning, but there was never anyone incoming. To be honest, the half of the call meant to beckon them inwards seemed somewhat futile, but they never failed to hail the world awaiting us. Our band moved together into one central clump, aside from the mounted man. Loriah, Mavin, and Lej went to share quick words with the caravan leader, and in an instant we were moving. Cedany, the twins and I we cast to the left side of the band, and Lej's to the right. Mavin took up the rear. The grinning merchant man locked eyes with the Clansman and beckoned him to the front. He scowled under his half helm but clucked to his horse, heeding his direction. From the corner of my eye I watched his body servants retreat back into the city, pale and frightened. Settling, I turned to watch the faces around us. What did they think of our leaving? Many appeared awed and confused, and some knuckled and some warded themselves against ill luck, but none offered what I thirsted for: some hint of what to expect over the next month. Even the farm hands would not have pressed more than ten or fifteen miles away from the city walls. How long had it been since any human strayed so far away? I knew little and less of the merchants, only that they seemed strange and unknown, and of a queer humor compared to the city folk I was used to. It seemed almost like they were excited to leave. With a shudder the gates ground to a halt, wide open, like the mouth of the world waiting to swallow us whole. The farm hands walked outwards without hesitation, braver than most of us in many ways. They were used to it, I supposed. Maybe that was all it was, when you got down to the heart of it, being so worn down that danger and grief and peril was just a part of who you were. Likely they fear the beasts abroad no more than they feared their arms or legs. They could not do their work without either, it was just a fact of life. The caravan master let out a short, sharp whistle and the donkeys haw'ed in response, straining against their riggings. The wagon train began to creak. If the men were smiling and laughing, clapping one another on the shoulder, they were alone in doing so. Loriah took a deep breath and stepped forward, and just like that we too were part of the small crowd streaming out of Callais and into the world. Callais sat atop a low rise, and overlooked plainsland. The road outwards was crude and without cobble, more a gash of earth than anything that might pass for safe means of transportation, and yet it appeared well trodden. Grasses of varying hight swayed in the morning light, and seemed to whisper to one another on either side of us. It was warm for autumn, early as the season was, and the sunlight felt strong. The farmers grumbled to one another, cursed in low voices, but it was washed over by the thudding of our footsteps. No one seemed to want to venture far from their comrades sides. If a gust of wind blew the grasses towards them, they flinched away. Cedany was close to my side, elbow brushing mine. Her plaited hair was already somehow askew from it's braid, and her wide eyes did not seem to like what they saw. She was the first among us to speak, and it was barely more than a whisper. “It's so open,” she murmured. I couldn't help but agree. Looking over my shoulder, the monolith that was Callais was all that broke the skyline. In all other directions there was only the swaying of grass and the rolling of hills. Cloud cover was sparse, and the blue dome above us felt as oppressive as the walls. It was a painted in the pallet of an early, cloudless sunrise, infinitely vast without rooftops or edges to limit it's expanse. I squeezed the straps of my pack tighter yet, feeling my mind start to slip away from me once more. My eyes returned to the path below us. It was entirely foreign compared to the cobbled streets I was used to. Even the back alleyways that lacked stones, or those who's stones had been buried under years of muck and were close enough to dirt anyways, we a far cry from this. It was trodden but still bore rivets and cracks within it. Stones, jagged and sharp, seemed randomly littered about. There was not one flat sort of earth either, but instead strands and streams and swirls of different material. If there were not perhaps a dozen people walking behind me, I may have stooped to examine it. The road did not deviate left or right for quite some time. We all walked together like so many goats, herded by duty and fear. When the first group of farmers turned for a path cut into the grass I felt the strong urge to bleat out and beg them to stay. My heart pounded in my throat, but I did nothing at all but watch them go. Certainly they would be in peril away from us, and certainly we were weaker without them. No one said anything, and before long they had disappeared over a ridge, swallowed by the grass. We walked on. I could not shake the tension from my limbs. Every gust of the wind set me to flinching, even the buzzing of flies in my ears seemed queer and unlike those I had always known. Cedany seemed no better. Her hand rarely left the hilt of her sword and her eyes constantly roamed the world around us. I knew her senses to be keener than mine, and I couldn't help but wonder what she saw that I missed. It did little to curb my paranoia. I was so tightly wound that I nearly screamed at the voice in my ear. I stifled it into a gasp, but could not keep the blood from running from my face. Upon whirling, I saw it was only Loriah, fallen back to check in. The twins walked some paces behind us, while Hiram strode along near the front of the first of our three wagons. The shorter woman eyed me with great concern. “Are you alright, Aranya?” Her voice was a low murmur, and familiar. I let out a shaky breath and nodded, offering her a weak smile. “I'm okay. Just tense.” She let out a dry laugh. “It's not even been three hours since you woke today, yet you've made trouble for yourself. Are you going to your actions back in the city?” I opened my mouth to brush her off, but she interjected. “It wasn't nothing. Your eyes glint before you lie.” I snapped my mouth shut and looked away. I felt Cedany's keen awareness at my side, and knew she listened closely. “You know as well as anyone,” I said quietly, the notes of my voice nearly lost within the grasses song. “And that is reason to kill your teammate?” The woman scoffed, her face becoming a mask of interrogation and intense disapproval. “Let's not even consider the fact that his being alive and learning will feed me in the winter to come. Let's ignore that. Instead you two were met with the slightest bit of pressure on this glass castle you and Cedany have built, and you shattered.” My stomach rose into my throat. Our mentor went on. “Your past is your past. I doubt Lej enjoys the thought of forced combat any more than you enjoy the idea of whores or dirty, slathering men doing all manner of horrible things. And I'd wager either one of you would deal harsher than necessary should a slaver fall into your grip. Do you know what the difference between you and Lej is?” I could not answer her. The images her words had dredged up circulated behind my eyes had brought bile into the back of my mouth and I was attempting not to vomit. “Loriah, stop it!” Cedany's voice might have been iron clad and fierce, but she looked as shaken as I. Her face was pale, and a sheen of sweat glinted on her brow. “The difference is that Lej moved past it.” She would show no mercy, pressing the issue farther than she ever had before. “The boys and I pampered you, mincing around the matter as we have. The three of us think of you two as children, and damn me for admitting it out loud. But now I see we did so foolishly, and it brought about what could have easily been a hanging offense. Consider our kindhearted folly at an end, as of now.” Cedany let out a shaky breath and I saw tears glinting in the corner of her eyes. My gaze locked onto Loriah with a sort of anger I couldn't remember having ever directed at the woman before. It washed away in an instant. Loriah's eyes shone as well, and the stern disciplinary had become our mentor once more. As she pushed ahead once more, she left us each with a clasped shoulder. I watched as she walked double time to the front of the line, pulling Hiram in as well. Even if Cedany smirked, I could take no joy in his equal treatment. I knew Loriah to be right, and my pride would not heal so easily. We lost three more groups of farmers by noon, and our number had dwindled from over sixty to half of that, with a fair portion of that number being our own party. We crested a ridge and looked down into a valley that looked noting like the grassy hills we'd traversed thus far. The land dropped away below us, sloping into a basin, turning from golden green grassland to harvest-ready fields. The plants had grown in organized rows, and seemed all too uniform. Far in the distance I could see shapes milling about in an enclosure of sorts, but it wasn't until Cedany gasped and whispered that I knew what they were. “Aranya look, those are all horses!” One of the caravan guards not hired on by Lord Arin chuckled. “Look like dots to me.” “They're horses,” Cedany said with confidence. The man just shrugged, grinning, walking along like it was nothing at all. I spared him a glance, picking out that his eyes were a bright blue, and seemed an odd addition to his tanned skin and dark hair. By then my glance was done and, not wanting to draw undue attention, I turned to squint at the 'dots' below. I watched them for a long while, but I soon realized there was more to the scenery than the fields and their contents. As we approached I realized that buildings had been wedged between the fields, growing closer and closer together until they all mashed up in an epicenter of sorts. I saw no trace of grey, no hint that stone or brick made up their composition, and wondered how they were supporting themselves without it. There were no trees here in the plains, and either way wood rotted and burned and was easily broken. It hadn't been used in Callais's construction as anything other than ornament on most houses, sparing the gates of course, but those were ancient and magicked and in a class of their own. Yet here this town of sorts sat, with dull brown walls and straw for rooftops and naught but a thin wall that couldn't have been more than fifteen feet tall surrounding them. Where had the wood come from? And how did this little settlement survive? It took us the better part of the afternoon to descend the slope and return to level footing. Cedany and I took special joy in the Eboneye's trouble and his curses, as his horse slipped and balked at the loose soil. After a bit of a fight, the man dismounted and descend on foot, laden with armor and leading his spirited mount the whole of the way. Cedany leaned in to whisper, “Mayhaps if he'd been polite enough to introduce himself, you might have lent him a hand.” I scrunched up my face in distaste, and snickered. Cedany swore I must have a gift for creatures, never mind my distaste for the larger ones, but she also thought a full tankard had mystical properties so she was disregarded. In all, the Eboneye's horse did not seem ill-tempered, but instead only as frightened as the rest of us. The man's ire was not warranted in any case. We spent the better part of the rest of the day descending into the valley. If it was hard on the horses it was harder yet on the donkeys, hauling the wagons as they were. We cut back and forth across the face of the hill in wide, sweeping lines, so that the slope affected them as little as possible. Natyre called out to the caravan master in irritation, claiming that surely there was a better way than this endless trek. The man only smiled and called back, “I've been at this business near a decade now. Trust me on this, city lad.” Natyre fell quiet, perhaps turning that over in his mind as I was. It was much cooler on the valley floor. By the time we were on level ground once more, half of our day had passed. Men in their fields stopped to watch us as we passed, propping themselves up on their tools and wiping the sweat out of their eyes to better observe us. Occasionally the wagon master would call out to them, ask how their work faired. One man out of a dozen called back, while the others said nothing at all. We rumbled into the town amongst a cloud of dust. Men in the town pushed their way out of buildings to stand in the doorways, and women paused in their washing or spinning or whatever task they'd put themselves to. I wondered what each building's purpose was. They were mostly the same size, though each seemed unique in some small way. Some had flower boxes sitting under windows, others had clothing hanging from lines, waving in the wind. When a young woman walked out holding a toddler on her hip, the reality of it all hit me like a piece of hot iron flush against an anvil. The buildings were houses, and people lived there. There were men and woman who did not spend their nights within the walls, without the safety they provided. I looked to Cedany, eyes wide, and she met mine with confusion. She searched my gaze and I nodded towards the child. I waited impatiently for her to come to the same conclusion I had, not wanting to break the fragile silence that had overcome the gathering.