Episode 58

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

Lilian’s eyes widened in surprise. Emma had just told her that Sage Fenric was about to embark on a long journey and not, as he had put it, go up to the Benlunar peak to live like a hermit. Lilian needed answers and so she pressed Emma with several questions all furiously scrawled onto a scrap of parchment.

It took the two girls the better part of an hour to work out Sage Fenric’s plan. Brother Thomas helped as well, although his help mainly consisted of fetching tea and biscuits. Their first job had been to work out on a map exactly where Sage Fenric was planning to go. This was easier said than done as Brother Thomas had no maps of the western countries and Emma had never left Benlunar. Lilian did her best to draw the outlines of various mountain ranges and forests and Emma would nod along in understanding, casting her mind back to the maps she’d seen laid out in Sage Fenric’s caravan. Lilian Filled in as many details as she could, hoping some landmark would spark relevance in Emma’s memory. She drew little towns, big rivers, farmsteads, lakes, villages and even cities, placing them as near as she could recall to their actual locations. When the hour was nearly up Emma suddenly tapped Lilian hard on the shoulder and snatched the quill from her hand. Lilian stepped back and looked at Brother Thomas while little Emma worked. Her shoulders were hunched over the makeshift map, and she was scribbling away with furious fervour. Brother Thomas’ eyes were wide, he seemed hopeful and for the first time in days, Lilian shared his optimism.

Finally, Emma stepped back. Her wobbly drawing was near the top left corner of the map. Lilian stepped closer to look at it.

There on the page was a rudimentary house, or perhaps a tower of some sort. Lilian had to twist her head to see it properly as Emma had drawn it roof side down. Above the triangle and square shapes that made up the tower was a sort of half moon. Emma stepped into Lilian’s view and tapped her drawing repeatedly. Lilian noticed then that the structure or symbol Emma had drawn was just northeast of one of her own drawings. Lilian took the pen and quickly scrawled a question on the map.

You’re sure it’s near here?

Emma grabbed the pen and scribbled her reply: Yes, she wrote, near the city. Near Freedos.

Lilian rolled up the map, patted the cat on the head and was half way out of the door before she turned around to thank Brother Thomas. A few seconds later she was outside and making her way across the town square, feeling the snow crunch beneath her feet. On her left was a perturbed looking Fritha who would probably have preferred to stay by Brother Thomas’ fire, even if it meant being around the cat. And on her right, trailing a few steps behind was Emma, a wide smile spreading across her reddening cheeks.

It took them three minutes to get to the Fox and Octopus. Lilian shoved the doors open and dove into the warmth of the inn. There were a few familiar faces scattered around the place. All of them turned to look at Lilian with a scowl as they felt the cold air rush in and disturb their hibernation. It was markedly quieter inside than most days of winter's past.

“Shut that door!” Liny yelled from somewhere in the back. Lilian quickly obliged. Looking round again she caught sight of the man she’d come to see. Doran was sitting in a booth by the window talking to an older man with a shock of spiky white hair. When the two girls and their feinhound came over, Doran saw the look of urgency on Lilian’s face and made his excuses to his new friend. The older man bade them all a good day and went to join a group by the fire. Lilian slid onto the bench opposite Doran and placed the rolled up parchment on the table with a thud. Emma joined her on the bench but became quickly distracted by Fritha pulling on the toggles of her coat. They proceeded to play and fall about the place much to everyone’s delight. But Lilian was not there to play.

“If I had to get this to someone in Freedos, what would be the fastest way to do that?” said Lilian.

Doran paused for a second before replying, “And good afternoon to you too Lilian Lausanne. Well now… uhm… is it the thing itself, or just the information on the page?”

Lilian considered this and then rolled the parchment out, “It’s a map. So technically the information, along with a note for context, would be enough.”

Doran studied the map for a moment, “did Emma draw this?”

“No,” replied Lilian, “I did. Why?”

“Oh, ahem, no reason. It’s… It’s very good.”

Lilian rolled her eyes, “It was done in a hurry. And I’m not trying to sell it, I just need someone in Freedos to see it. Or understand what’s on it.” Doran leant back in his seat and brought his hand up to stroke his chin. Lilian continued, “I could take Afaran, but before I do I just want to know if there’s a quicker way.”

Doran nodded in understanding, “I understand,” he muttered, “One moment.” Doran then reached back and brought round a small satchell that he’d been partly leaning against. He opened it and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a leather bound notebook. Lilian watched Fritha and Emma play while she waited and resisted the urge to drum her fingers. The feinhound had snatched Emma’s woollen hat and was letting her get close before running away again and again.

“Ah!” Doran exclaimed, “Here we go. Homing birds.”

Lilian snapped her attention back to him, “what?”

“Homing birds,” he repeated, “It’s an old messaging system where you raise birds in one place and then take them far away so that when you set them free, they fly home. I made a note of the various outposts years ago, there should still be a working post in Seventrees.” Lilian considered this. She looked at the large map on the table and then back to Doran with raised eyebrows. “Well you’d have to make the map a little smaller obviously. But I should think a bird from Seventrees would take just under a day to get to Freedos. If it were me, that’s what I’d do. Afaran is fast but I haven’t seen wings on him.” Lilian was too distracted to laugh at the joke. If she could replicate this information on a very small piece of paper, a homing bird might just work. She knew where Seventrees was, it was a small town, about the size of Benlunar, just at the base of the mountain. But it was on the other side of the valley, technically in the opposite direction to Freedos.

While Lilian considered her options, Doran went back to studying the map, “what’s this for anyway?” he asked.

Lilian lowered her voice, “It’s Fenric. He says he’s going to climb Benlunar but he’s really going here.” She pointed at the shapes that Emma had drawn near the city. Suddenly, it occurred to Lilian that Doran might know something about that place, he was a traveller after all.

But Doran appeared to have anticipated this. He shook his head, “I know the area, just a bunch of little hills and horrible marsh. If you’re planning on going there Lilian you’ll need a guide. One wrong step and your horse is knee deep in bog and sinking.” Lilian shuddered. She’d be sure to include that detail in her note to Mr Attorcop.

Lilian looked out of the window and realised that the winter sun was setting already. She was running out of time. Lilian slid out of the booth and began rolling up the map. Doran looked surprised, “You… you’re not going now are you?”

Lilian shrugged, “when else would I go? He’s leaving tonight Doran.” She folded the map tightly and placed it safely in the inner pocket of her winter coat. She was about to leave when she remembered something, “Doran? Would you mind looking after Fritha for the night? She needs to eat something, Liny will have some meat somewhere, here.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small purse. She extracted some copper heads and left them with Doran who nodded and took them. Then she went over to Fritha and Emma.

The two tearaways were still running around, trying to see who could tire the other one out first. Lilian caught their attention and knelt in front of Emma. She hugged the little girl tightly and made the sign for home and sleep. Emma seemed disappointed but understood that there was work to be done that she could not be a part of. Lilian made sure to point to the map and repeat the sign for thank you several times. This produced a few happy gestures and a smile wide enough to show several missing teeth. Lilian grinned and then turned to Fritha. She hugged the feinhound then pointed to Doran and issued the stay command which she reinforced with a few sour berries from her pocket. Fritha wolfed down the treats and then licked Lilian’s face which made Emma giggle uncontrollably.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said. She knew that neither of them could understand her words, but that didn’t matter, they knew her intent and her feelings for them, and that’s what really counted.

With renewed energy, she made to leave. Then she doubled back, grabbed a pie off the counter, left five copper heads, and then really made to leave.

Afaran did not seem best pleased with having to leave the warmth of his stable, which he shared with Doran’s donkey, Caramel. But after Lilian saddled and bridled him he seemed to understand that there was no avoiding the departure. Lilian used the little steps just outside the stable to mount him easily, he was still just a bit too large for her to mount from the ground. Then she clicked her tongue, tapped her heels and the great dark steed was away.

Afaran thundered over the snow leaving a cloud of white powder in his wake. The wind whipped past Lilian’s face, so cold it might have cut her cheeks. She gripped the reigns with white knuckles and focused solely on the road. Horse and rider clattered out of the Benlunar gates, just as they were being shut for the night. Lilian wondered if she would meet Sage Fenric on the road, but knew that if he had any sense, he would take a less obvious path out of town. It took them the better part of three hours to descend the mountain, Afaran had to slow down several times to navigate the winding way, but finally they reached the fork in the road. If Lilian went right, she would head west towards the fishing fields and Freedos, and so she went left. This road went round the base of the Benlunar, cutting through the narrow canyons that connected the surrounding smaller mountains. Lilian slowed Afaran down to a brisk walk. He’d done the hardest part, now she just needed him to keep a steady pace until they reached Seventrees. Thankfully, the snow down here was not quite so deep and when they reached the first canyon there was barely any on the ground at all. Lilian looked up through the gap in the rocks above her. The moon was not visible but its light still cut through darkness and bounced off the ice that clung to the rock faces in heavy blue clusters. Lilian closed her eyes for a few seconds and thanked the moon for her light and guidance. In that brief moment of pitch black the sound of Afaran’s hooves and his breathing grew suddenly louder. Perhaps it was the setting, or the fact that her body was so used to it, or perhaps the moon really was looking out for her, but Lilian’s body slipped easily into hyper focus.

She allowed herself to enjoy the feeling. There were so few sounds out here, not like back in Freedos where there was always some cacophony just a few streets away. She was about to open her eyes and snap out of it, when she heard the wheels.

Somewhere, up ahead, there was the unmistakable sound of wooden cartwheels trundling through the canyon. There was a horse too, or some large animal pulling the cart. Lilian could hear its heavy breathing up ahead. She pulled on the reins and brought Afaran to a complete stop. Something about that sound made her uneasy. Any traveller would be nervous at encountering someone on the roads at night, but the nature of Lilian’s mission made this meeting even more unfortunate. She opened her eyes and looked about for somewhere to hide. She squinted through the gloom for a recess in the rocks, or a cave or even just a large boulder she could guide Afaran towards. But the road was clear. The cliffs on either side of her stretched high into the air and were as sheer as castle walls. Her heart began to beat faster. She considered turning around and heading back the way she came, but she’d been travelling this way for twenty minutes and even if she made it out of the canyon first there was no guarantee of a hiding spot on the road.

Lilian steered Afaran to the very edge of the road, so that his flank was almost touching the rock face. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She needed cover and if the mountain wasn’t going to provide any, she would have to make some herself. She closed her eyes again and slipped quickly into hyper focus. Then she went through that state and tried to access the lunar essence inside her arm. She winced at the sharp pain she felt as the essence awoke. She didn’t need much of it. This was not like transforming into the night spirit, it was just a quick favour from the moon. Lilian opened her eyes and looked up to the sky. She imagined that the canyon was growing darker, like a large cloud was passing over the moon. The pain in her arm lessened and the darkness obeyed. Just as the sound of wheels was coming round the corner, the black of night grew thick around her. It was as if someone had dragged a thick pall over the canyon gap. Lilian tried to keep breathing calmly and quietly. Afarn must have picked up on this as he seemed to calm down and kept quite still for the next few moments.

The sound of wheels grew close. Lilian had her eyes wide open. She could have held her hand in front of her face and not seen a single finger. She kept control of her breath and remained as still as her nerves would let her. The cart, or whatever it was, was very near now, Lilian could hear the sound of metal clanging and the rustling of materials. She heard muttering too, whoever was driving was complaining to themselves about the sudden darkness. It sounded to Lilian like they were searching for something, a lamp or torch perhaps. Lilian’s heart nearly beat out of her chest as the crunching, rattling cart passed right by her. It was pulled by a horse, driven by a man and contained many things of various shapes, sizes and materials. Could it be Sage Fenric? Lilian wondered. He could have easily gone the long way round, down the road less travelled to the base of the mountain. To know for sure, would be to risk exposing her plan. And so she kept quiet and let the cart pass.

A few seconds later it was away and Lilian could breathe easy. She turned to make sure it was not stopping and she caught sight of a little orange light struggling against the darkness. The driver had clearly lit it to aid their journey, but even a bonfire would struggle to penetrate this particular night. Lilian waited for the light to turn a corner and disappear completely before breathing out a large sigh. The thick blackness melted away and she was left alone again, with Afaran, in the pale blue light of the moon and ice.

The sky was just turning blue when Lilian left the winding pass. As the light of dawn crept down the mountains Lilian saw the thatched roofs and weathervanes of Seventrees appear in the misty distance. She’d been to this town before, many times. It was the nearest place that citizens of Benlunar could expect to find decent supplies or craftsmen and women that Benlunar’s limited population lacked. She’d trotted slowly through the mountain, not wanting to alert any other night time travellers to her presence, but now that she could not avoid being seen, Lilian kicked her heels and galloped away through the crisp morning air. She could hear the frozen dew crunch beneath Afaran’s steel capped hooves and despite the chill and lack of sleep she felt a new exhilaration brought on with the light and the sight of her goal.

She tapped her pocket to make sure the folded parchment was still there. She’d done this a hundred times throughout the journey, but she could not risk losing it. As the road grew more worn Afaran’s feet began to crack the ice on puddles of mud. The town was close now, close enough for Lilian to see curtains in several of the glass paned windows up ahead. The buildings here all had a similar look. Plastered white walls with exposed wooden beams and thatched roofs. In the spring the window boxes would have little pansies peeking out at visitors, but now they were just empty boxes waiting for spring to bring them back to life and colour. The first of the seven trees from which the town got its name was here on the right as you entered the town. It was an oak tree, old as the hills and nearly as tall. There were six more great trees scattered about the town and in Autumn the locals all held a small festival where they swept up the leaves and used them to smoke meats and various delicacies as they sang and danced. It was their way of saying goodbye to the Summer and ushering in the cold and shorter nights.

Lilian slowed Afaran down as she passed the great oak. Trees like this did not survive the altitude at Benlunar and so she was always pleased to study it whenever she passed. The branches were bare and when the breeze blew through them it was like the tree was shivering. The mud beneath it became stones and the grass along the road disappeared to make way for paving and buildings. Lilian did not know where the homing bird post was located and so went to ask the first local she came across. It was still early so it would be some time before anyone would brave the chill of the morning. Lilian took the opportunity to feed, water and brush her trusted steed as well as quickly pick any stone or mud out of his hooves, lest it freeze and force the poor beast’s foot to crack. She found a local inn and brought Afaran to the stable. The chestnut mare which was already inside was wary at first but Lilian tied Afaran up with a short rope so that he would not bother her.

The sky was light but the sun would not appear for another hour. Luckily Lilian spotted an early riser as she walked across the cobbled market place. This town centre was quite like Benlunar’s only there was no Stave. At the centre there was a great fountain, adorned with sculpted woodland creatures, flittering birds frozen in time and fish poised mid jump as they breached the surface of the water. The thing made use of the constant flow of underground rivers coming from the mountains, forcing them into man made pipes and causing perpetual eruption from stone trees, flowers and even the mouths of frogs. The stranger that Lilian had spotted was emerging from a small side street that lead onto the square. The buildings in Seventrees were packed closer together than in Benlunar, so close that neighbours on opposite sides of some roads might stretch their arms out from their bedrooms windows and shake hands in greeting when they awoke. Lilian shuffled across the square and waved when the stranger looked up to see her. It was an older man with red cheeks and white hair. He had a large, soft orange hat on that looked as though it had been dropped onto his head and allowed to droop and spill down the side of his face. He smiled when he saw Lilian.

“Good morning, you’re up early, young miss.”

“Morning. Yes, I travelled through the night.”

The man’s friendly features fell, “in a cold such as this? Ooh, rather you than me.” He looked closer at Lilian’s clothes, studied the fur lined boots and coat and smiled in understanding. “Ah, I think you’re one of the mountain folk. So I don’t suppose the cold bothers you quite so much!”

Lilian smiled, “you’ve a keen eye. I hate to bother you on your constitutional but could you tell me where I might send a message using the homing birds? I heard Seventrees had a post.”

The gentleman nodded and pointed to the street from which he’d come, “oh yes, we’ve a post. Just head down there and bare left until you come to the steps. Climb up and up and you’ll see it.” Lilian thanked him and darted in the direction he had pointed. She knew she was making good time, but that did not mean she could afford to dither. The light dimmed instantly as she rushed into the gap between the houses. As she wound her way in and out of the slender passages she was reminded of Freedos. She felt an unexpected warmth at the memory. It had been a chaotic and dangerous place, but she had loved exploring all the little streets and alleyways there. You never knew what was around the corner and even after all the time she’d spent in the capital, she felt as though there was still more to discover.

The steps that the old man had talked about appeared after three or four minutes of hugging the left walls. Lilian rounded a corner and saw a zigzagging set of stone steps that crept up the back of a large building like ivy. Lilian’s legs ached at the sight of them. She felt last night’s journey catch up to her suddenly and had to fight through a wave of exhaustion to push herself to start climbing.

Once she reached the second turning point she looked up and saw the homing bird tower. It wasn’t much of a structure, just a circular wooden thing that looked like it might topple over and fall off the roof at any moment. Its most distinctive feature was a bright orange roof peppered with little holes. Lilian had seen roofs like this in Freedos but had never known what they were for. After a brief break to catch her breath, Lilian rallied herself again and made the final leg of the journey.

The door to the tower was locked, not surprising given then early hour. Lilian slumped down onto the floor with her back against the door and watched the birds coming and going from above. She briefly thought about finding shelter just in case a bird decided to deliver its own message onto her hair while she waited, but she was too tired to move.

Suddenly Lilian felt a sharp nudge on her leg. She opened her eyes, not having realised they were closed and immediately put her hand up to shield them from the sun. The air was warmer and the sun was bright and white in the sky. Lilian glanced around in confusion.

“Oh thank the stories, I thought you might be dead,” A woman’s voice brought Lilian back to reality. Apparently she had been asleep and had just been kicked awake. Lilian stood up, brushed her clothes down and looked at the newcomer. She was perhaps three or four years older than Lilian with dark brown hair and a slightly upturned nose. She wore a thick woollen skirt and a shawl over her head and shoulders. In her left hand was a brass key and in her right was a small pouch which Lilian presumed held grains and seeds.

“Sorry!” Lilian exclaimed, “I er…” the sharp awakening had left her confused, “I need to send something. A message. To someone in Freedos.”

The young woman’s face softened now that she saw Lilian was neither dead nor dangerous. “Well,” she said, “you’d best come in then.”

Many hours later a young boy zips through the streets of a great city. He keeps his pace up weaving in and out of groups of grown ups as he goes. Sometimes he’ll bump into someone or narrowly dodge a horse and cart. The curses follow him down the street but he’s gone before he can pay them any mind. In his hand there is a note and on his mind there is the shiny copper piece he will be paid for its safe delivery. The delivery game in Freedos is run by older boys and so he’s careful to slow his pace when he sees a group he recognises. If they suspect him of delivering something they’ll chase him down and rough him up until he coughs up the note and name of its recipient. Thankfully they’re too busy playing marbles to care. When he’s safely around a corner he breaks out into a run again.

He’s headed up hill, which is thirsty work, but he doesn’t mind. The exercises will warm him and he can buy a hot cocoa and more with his earnings. Eventually he crests the edge of the old volcano and his path evens out. The gates to the old palace court are open and the boy squeezes between a guard and a woman. The guards here held halberds once, now their weapons are stored away and they greet people with smiles and advice rather than threats and searches. The boy knows where he’s going though and so does not stop. A red door belonging to the sixth house from the old palace steps looms close. The boy pauses before knocking to listen at it. There are sounds coming from inside. It sounds like the clacking of wood on wood, like someone is hitting a bench or table with a wooden spoon. The boy lifts and drops the knocker and the sound stops. Seconds later, an old man opens the door and looks down.

“Yes?”

“A message…” says the boy in between big breaths, “from the rookery. A message for Cromwell Atto… Attor…”

“Attorcop.”

“That’s the one.” The old man grabs the little note and reaches into his pocket. He thrusts something into the boy’s outstretched hand and shuts the door before he has time to thank him. The boy looks down, opens his palm and his eyes widen at the site of not one, but two copper heads. Today was going to be a really good day.

After shutting the door behind him, Mr Attorcop studied the little piece of parchment carefully whilst walking back to the training room. His two proteges were collapsed on the floor panting heavily, sweat dripping down their red cheeks. Their training swords were tossed to one side, gleefully discarded. Mr Attorcop tsked, these young people had no stamina. The young woman, Serena, looked up as he reentered the room.

“What’s that?” she asked. By now Mr Attorcop had carefully unfolded the tiny piece of paper and was studying its contents.

“A message,” he replied.

This caught the attention of the young man, Peter who heaved himself up onto his shoulders, “who from?”

Mr Attorcop ignored him for a moment while he read and then reread the message. His countenance changed from relaxation to tension. Serena and Peter looked at each other in concern.

“Cromwe…” Serena began but Mr Attorcop cut her off.

“It’s from Lilian. Grab your things. We need to go.”

Episode 57

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

By the end of her second day since waking up, Lilian was insufferably bored. It had been a week now since she’d fought the sisters and judging by the reports things were not looking good. Brother Thomas had visited the day before and brought Lilian some sugar pears. Her parents had visited soon after and brought an ecstatic Fritha along with them. Thankfully, the feinhound’s energy was easily matched by little Emma and the two of them bounced around the house for an hour before collapsing in a heap in the living area. That evening though it was Doran’s turn to visit. He had been feeding and walking Afaran and had been trying his best to infiltrate any meetings held by Sage Fenric and his growing collection of followers. Lilian’s leg still hurt when she moved it but her fever was well and truly gone. Right now she was sitting in an armchair by the fire, stroking Fritha with her foot and listening to Doran and Esther discuss the current state of the town. Doran was whittling a piece of wood. Emma was nearby, playing with a set of wooden blocks.

“More go every day,” Doran was saying, “the grove is starting to look like a Laguina camp. People have brought cooking pots, constructed basic shelters, all so that they can be closest when Sage Fenric decides to speak. I went to the Stave yesterday for the service, the room was… noticeably empty. The church Brothers and Sisters are all putting on brave faces, but you can tell it’s getting to them.” He flicked a shaving into the fire and Lilian watched it curl and crackle into the embers.

“I haven’t seen him speak yet, surely he can’t be that charming,” asked Esther.

“I’ll grant that he has a certain charisma. He tells a decent story.” Lilian detected a hint of bitterness in his tone. “But it’s less about how he says things and more about what he’s saying. He makes these grand and ridiculous promises, claiming that he has the answers to any and all questions. He can make you rich, he can cure the sick, he can make apples grow in the snow. And of course, as soon as anyone asks him for proof he claims that their doubt is the reason he can’t provide any. ‘How can the garden be expected to produce fruit if you don’t believe it is real’ he’ll say. Absolute nonsense. Something is either real or it isn’t, realness does not depend on belief.”

Esther considered this, “I don’t know. I believe in the gods and heroes of the stories, but I’ve no evidence that they’re real or that their stories actually happened.”

Doran pointed his knife at Esther to punctuate his reply, a gesture that looked more threatening than it was intended, “yes but whether or not they’re real or happened does not depend on you believing them does it? You could believe or not believe and that wouldn’t change the realness of those stories. Besides I think most people understand that there’s probably a bit of truth in every story but that they change over time. Like a lighthouse disappearing into a fog. No matter how dense the cloud, the light is still there and that’s what’s important.” Esther nodded in understanding.

Then the two of them looked at Lilian, expecting her to add something to the conversation. But Lilian Lausanne was far away. She stared blankly into the fire, thinking a thousand thoughts, and none. Doran shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Lilian, I was wondering, and I don’t mean to rush your recovery, not at all. But… people are asking about you and I was just wondering, if it’s no trouble, do you have some sort of plan. If you don’t that’s fine… I was just…” Doran trailed off. Lilian didn’t appear to have heard him. But that was not the case. The part of her that was still in that room did, but the rest of her was too busy to provide a reply.

Lilian was angry, but knew that anger would do no good. She was tired, but done with rest. And she was scared, but understood that her fear would help no one. And so she focused on her breathing, on that small part of her that was still under her control. She closed her eyes and heard Doran’s questions fade into the distance. Then her hearing changed and she could sense everything. The cracks and pops of the fire became crashes and explosions. The sound of Doran’s whittling knife was like the cracking and felling of a great tree. She heard the sounds outside too, feet crunching the snow in the distance, heartbeats starting to race as their associated bodies ingested their first taste of an evening mead. This was a sacred place: the night, the sounds, the gloaming. With it came the first prickling of pain in her wrist. Had she opened her eyes, she would see the old ink laced with lunar essence glowing in the forms of moon and mountain on her forearm. The prickling grew into a sharpness and then an intensity. Lilian clenched her jaw but still tried to focus on her breathing to help her push past the pain. She felt her hair begin to lift off her shoulders as the pain in her body was slowly replaced by power. Lilian opened her eyes.

Doran, Esther and Emma were staring at her in fear and wonder. They watched as Lilian’s skin became dark and her eyes went so pale blue that they shone like stars. Fritha stood up from her spot by the fire and was studying the scene with interest. Lilian stood up and stretched, enjoying the strength and quickness in her limbs. She put her full weight on her injured leg and smiled when she felt no pain. As she looked around the room, she saw it differently. The light of the fire was being pushed back, as if it was battling a smothering darkness. The shadows became dark doorways, the tables and chairs seemed as light and frivolous as the blocks that Emma was playing with. It had been a while since Lilian had returned to this form, and even though it felt incredible, it did still scare her somewhat. With that thought she closed her eyes again, breathed out a long breath and sat back down. She steadied herself and forced the gloaming back into her arm where she trapped it inside the moon and mountain. Then, filled with new energy and healed from her wounds, she opened her eyes.

The room was back to normal. The flames in the hearth jumped and leaped with their previous gusto and the shadows went back to being just darker parts of the room. Fritha came over to Lilian and licked her hand with a big purple tongue. It was Doran that broke the silence.

“Lilian… what… who…” it was strange for the storyteller to be at a loss for words. He didn’t like it. Lilian took her seat again and smiled her most calming smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s not often I can do that so when I felt it happening I decided to go with it. It healed my leg and the rest of the bruises so I’ll be able to get out of your hair sooner Esther.” Emma had forgotten all about her bricks and was treading tentatively towards Lilian. She still looked a little scared but her curiosity was overpowering her fear.

“What was that?” Esther finally asked the question that Doran could not.

“I’m not sure what to call it yet,” Lilian replied. “It’s a combination of a powerful substance called Lunar essence, and a sort of magic which I call gloaming. It makes me strong and fast and well I’m not really sure of everything it can do.” Emma turned to her mother and began animatedly enacting some sort of fight. Each punch or dodge was bridged by a series of signs. Esther looked at Lilian.

“She’s saying now you can go back and fight the sisters and win.” Lilian shook her head.

“I’m not so sure,” Esther translated her words back to Emma as she explained. “Like I said, it doesn’t always work when I want it to and besides, I’m scared. That form is very powerful, if I use it and they still beat me then…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Doran had regained his powers of speech and helped her.

“Then you’ll have nothing left.” He nodded in understanding, “probably best not to rely on it too much. One doesn’t open a game of cards with their best hand.” Lilian smiled at the analogy. As ever, Doran had hit the nail on the head.

“Besides,” she added, “it takes a bit of time to work and it’s very painful. So even though it makes me strong, it’s not always useful in a fight.” The room fell back into silence, save for the cracks and pops from the fire and the light tapping of palms and fingers from Esther and Emma’s signing. Emma looked dejected but only for a moment. She quickly turned back to Lilian and winked at her. It was clearly an attempt at being surreptitious but Lilian had to giggle at how open and obvious it was. She remembered Emma’s note that she still had in her frock pocket and turned her smile into a stern, reprimanding regard.

The two of them had passed several notes to each other during the last two days and Lilian had learned some basic signs with which to communicate simple ideas. The bulk of her communications had been focused on dissuading Emma from any attempt at spying on Sage Fenric, indeed, any attempt from going back there at all. But Emma was obstinate and Lilian’s pleas went unheaded and more often than not, completely ignored. Lilian had realised how irritating that trait was and promised to apologise to her mother and Mr Attorcop as soon as she could.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully. They talked a little about what to do, but no conclusions were drawn. It was clear that Lilian needed more information before she could act again, or at the very least, more support from able fighters. Doran left the house eventually, giving Emma the little horse he’d been whittling before heading back out into the snow. Then it was Lilian’s turn. She hugged Esther tightly and thanked her for her help and hospitality. Then she coaxed Emma out from her bedroom where she had gone to sulk over Lilian’s departure, and she hugged her tightly. She felt the little girl’s arms squeeze her neck and was suddenly overcome with a warm and happy feeling. This immediately prompted a reaction of worry and fear and so Lilian pulled out of the hug, looked deep into Emma’s eyes then used her right hand to point at her own eyes and then form a fist while shaking her head. No spying, she’d said. Emma rolled her eyes and nodded in reply but Lilian had the sneaking suspicion that she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

And so Lilian left the Glade family house. The snow had only stopped falling for a few hours during the week meaning that the powder would come up to Lilian’s waist were she to jump straight into it. Thankfully, a few charitable citizens had gone through the streets of Benlunar with ploughs and shovels so Lilian’s journey home was relatively unencumbered. Fritha busied herself with sniffing at the snow drifts, tracking the other pets and wildlife that had marked their passage through the snow covered town.

By the time Lilian arrived back at her childhood home it was quite late and her woollen leggings and thick jacket were barely able to keep out the cold. She hadn’t expected anyone to be up and so was surprised to see a faint light coming from the kitchen window. She opened the back door and found her father sitting alone at the kitchen table. There was a brown bottle in front of him, half drunk, with most of its contents apparently still hanging on to her father’s beard. He looked dazed and confused and barely seemed to register Fritha licking his hand when she came into the kitchen. Lilian tried catching his attention.

“Dad?” he looked up and stared at her as if she was a stranger, “Are you alright?” she asked, becoming concerned. Edward Lausanne went back to looking at his bottle, as if trying to find the answer to that question inside one of its many bubbles.

“She’s gone,” he said solemnly.

Lilian knew he must be talking about her mother, and her heart began to beat quicker. “Gone where?” she asked. Lilian knew and dreaded the reply, but she had to hear it all the same.

Her father spoke the two words and confirmed her worst fears, “The grove,” he said and took another long drink.

The next morning Lilian woke up with a head full of questions. Why was her mother camping out at the grove in the dead of winter? What was she going to do about Sage Fenric? Would anyone believe her about what the sisters had done? All of these and more swam around her mind like restless goldfish while she ate her breakfast. Her father had gone to work early and so she was left to her oats and thoughts with no one but Fritha for company. Not that Fritha was bad company.

Once breakfast was finished, Lilian resolved to pay the grove another visit. If she was being honest with herself she would have rather avoided it, but she needed to see what difference her week of rest had made. She did not want to be seen however, she did not want to give Sage Fenric or the sisters the satisfaction. So she found a quiet spot on the way to the grove, ducked behind a tree with Fritha and leant down beside the feinhound. She closed her eyes and put her hands lightly on Fritha’s fur. Within seconds she was sending out her little lights and then bringing them back into her heart once they had absorbed Fritha’s invisible essence. The hairs she touched were still attached and full of life and so she did not need much of their light at all. When she opened her eyes a moment later, Fritha was invisible and so was she.

They made their way to the grove, padding slowly through the snow and trying their best to tread on ice where they could so that they left no footprints. Lilian had remembered to put on her hobnail boots, relying on the sharp tacks on the soles to keep a sure footing. They were getting a little tight these days, but they would do for now.

Ten minutes later they were approaching the grove. Lilian had decided to come at it from the forest again rather than the road. The trees would obscure her footprints and she wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone.

In the short time she had been recovering, the grove had changed completely. The snow that covered the rest of the mountain, was all but gone. Only a few traces of frozen whiteness in some of the tree branches showed that it had ever snowed here at all. The rest of the ground, which had been previously covered in crisp, white powder, was now brown trodden, sodden earth. Canvas tents were dotted around the place, their once vibrant colours leached away by the rising damp and mud that crawled up the sides. There were old smoking fire pits, stone circled campgrounds and shoddily constructed decks and racks. Lilian saw a few people milling around and emerging from their shelters. Despite their conditions they seemed happy, smiling and greeting each other and exchanging excited pleasantries. Overseeing all of this were the caravans of Sage Fenric and his sister assistants. They seemed miraculously untouched by the surrounding dirt, as if the earth itself were allergic to them. Lilian felt a deep sadness at the sight of it all. This once vibrant and colourful place had now been leeched of life and beauty. Lilian heard no birds, saw no fruit clinging to the dark barked trees. Not even the soulless snow survived.

Lilian watched the grove for a short time trying to spot her mother among the acolytes. At one point, she saw Tourmaline emerge from her caravan and felt a pang of anger flare up in her chest. That was another thing she’d have to learn to deal with. This wasn’t like fighting Empress Sylvia or Nicholas Telson, this anger came from all of this situation being, quite literally, too close to home.

Once most people had come out and eaten something Sage Fenric emerged from his caravan. This alone was enough to enrage Lilian, but what made it worse was that a few seconds later she saw little Emma come out of there as well. She had disobeyed Lilian and gone back to spy on the Sage and his team. Lilian would be having stern words with her later. It did surprise her though. Emma milled about the place as if she had been born there and had every right to come and go as she pleased. She went from caravan to tent, to camp fire, taking food and pushing people out of her way as she explored. It struck Lilian that she did in fact make for a good spy. People’s inability to communicate with her meant that they largely just left her to her own business. As a result, she could explore unhindered, free to pick things up, eat things she liked the look of and walk in and out of the caravans like she was a cat exploring new surroundings. Even Lilian found herself ignoring her in favour of watching and listening to Sage Fenric.

The sage was dressed in his usual yellow cloak. The hood was down, revealing his pale face and bright, green eyes. Lilian saw through those kind features now, through to the black heart within. It was so obvious that she was surprised at how many people were still fooled by his falseness.

Sage Fenric climbed up to the little platform that Lilian had knocked him off a week ago. He smiled at a few individuals and bade everyone come closer with a motion of his arms. Lilian felt her blood boil but was suddenly distracted from her hatred by the sight of her mother. She was walking out from behind the sister’s caravan, having come from the other side of the grove. She was not alone. Bent low and listening with her arm linked was Hematite. The very same sister who had hurled bottled explosions and various dangerous concoctions at her during their fight. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Doubtless Hematite was pouring poison into her mother’s ear. The two women looked up as their quiet conversation was interrupted by Sage Fenric addressing the crowd.

“Friends! Good morning. I hope you all slept well out here in the cold. I dare say that those who forced us out here did not count on your incredible resilience. Truly you are, each of you, an inspiration to me. Like I said the other day, it is those who sacrifice the most who stand to gain the most. I urge you to truly feel the cold, so that you can appreciate the warmth of the fire. Sleep on the earth so that you may truly appreciate comfort. Eat what the land provides without garnish or spice so that you can be closer to the essence of real nourishment. You’ve all given so much already. I would think you were all but guaranteed entry to the garden and all the gifts that lie within it. But think, my friends. Take this moment now, in the light of dawn, to meditate on giving. I know I speak about it often, but there really is no better, faster or purer way to gain entry to the garden.” By this point, everyone in the grove was gathered close to Sage Fenric. Lilian lost count after forty people. The Sage lowered the volume of his voice and shifted his position slightly, as if the words he was saying were having a physical and emotional impact on him. “I met a man once, a hermit, who had given up all worldly possessions. He drank from streams, lived in a cave and was so committed to a life of sacrifice that he even avoided wearing furs during winter. I learned much from this man. And after speaking with him for some time, I decided I should live with him. One night I asked him whether all his giving was worth the cost. He smiled and confided in me that it was. He told me that it was through living such a life that he could visit the garden any time he wished. If he felt cold, he would simply close his eyes and feel the warmth of the garden on his skin. If he was hungry the garden would provide lush and sumptuous fruit. I asked him if he was ever sad or displeased and he shook his head. ‘How could I be?’ he said, ‘when the garden provides me with everything I need?’ It was this moment I decided to dedicate my life to this worldly heaven and to teach others about its goodness. My friends, you are all so close, but take today to think, to really think whether you still have something to give. Perhaps a piece of gaudy and useless jewellery that serves no purpose save to collect dust beneath a bed? A decadent coat or cloak? Silverware that is never used? All these and more are items that tether you to this world and can easily be sacrificed. You are free to bring them here and the sisters and I will dispose of them. Perhaps you’ve given everything already, in which case, the reason you have not visited the garden may be because you are not giving more of your own time to its pursuit? I like to think of it this way: the more you give, the more you get. The true magic begins when we give more than we can afford to. Think, my friends, think and ask each other. And together, we will visit the garden soon.”

Sage Fenric then made to leave but caught himself before descending the platform fully.

“Ah yes! Before I forget. I spoke about your incredible devotion and how your spirit of sacrifice has truly moved me. It has reminded me that even I can do better. Therefore, I wanted to tell you that you may not see me here for the next few days.” A murmur of concern spread through the crowd. Lilian furrowed her brow, what was he up to now? Sage Fenric smiled and chuckled as he replied, “fear not! Fear not friends. I am simply going on my own journey of giving. I shall venture up there.” Sage Fenric then turned and gestured to the Benlunar peak. “I plan on staying up there and living as my friend the hermit did all those years ago. I know that if I do this, I shall return with more keys, more knowledge and more strength to help us all. I leave this evening.”

This news seemed to confuse and upset several people in the grove. One man even shouted, “Will you need a companion? Perhaps someone to help you carry your things?”

Sage Fenric smiled at the man, “No thank you Timon, you have all followed me so far already, I could not ask you to follow me further. Fear not, friends, I shall return. And we shall all be better for it.” And with that he descended from the platform and began speaking to an older woman who was standing nearby. The rest of the group went back to their business. Lilian watched for a while longer. She saw a group of them set out back to town, presumably to fetch more of their belongings to give to Sage Fenric. Lilian sighed and turned to leave.

As she turned, she saw a sight that made her freeze in fear. Ten steps behind her, silent as the snow, was the largest wolf she had ever seen. It stood two heads taller than the tallest dog in town. It must have weighed just slightly more than Fritha, although the feinhound might just about match its length and height. It stared at Lilian with cold blue eyes. It was not growling or angry, but stood and stared with an intensity that made Lilian shiver. She knew there were wolves in these hills, she’d even seen a few skirting the edges of forests. But never one so close and never one so big. Lilian quickly glanced down at her hands to check that she was still invisible. Thankfully, no hands appeared in front of her and she sighed a small sigh of relief. Her fear returned however, when she noticed the wolf’s nose twitching wildly in the air. This animal had no need for a sense so rudimentary as sight. Lilian stayed very still, not wanting to crush a leaf with a careless step. Wolves were known to become more desperate in the winter, but there was something about this one that struck Lilian as strange. And it wasn’t just its size. It was alone. Lilian’s eyes darted about but saw no sign of a pack. All Benlunar children knew to avoid the group, even if it meant heading towards a lone wolf.

Lilian was about to try and move, when the wolf stirred. It started towards her and Lilian shifted her feet, readying for a fight. But the wolf padded past her with its head ducked down, keeping its nose close to the ground. As soon as it broke the treeline Lilian had to stop herself from running after it. She didn’t know what her plan was, perhaps she would try and scare it away or grab a rock and hit it over the head. She even found herself taking two or three steps out of the forest and into the grove in an effort to protect the unsuspecting townsfolk. Lilian found it hard to move, the strangeness of the scene was overwhelming. No wolf ever came this close to Benlunar. And that was when she realised. She was not looking at a wolf.

Her hunch was confirmed when moments after the first few townsfolk gasped and stepped back in fear of the giant hound, Sage Fenric appeared before it. He had gotten there quite quickly, thought Lilian, almost as if he was expecting the visit. From then on, Lilian watched the scene unfold like a boring play. She watched the wolf growl and bark and make a show of scaring the people. She observed Sage Fenric heroically step forward with his arms raised in a calming gesture. She heard him shout to the others to not be afraid as he approached the wild and terrifying beast. Lilian almost rolled her eyes when Sage Fenric held out a single hand and walked towards the wolf seemingly without fear, his eyes closed in religious reverence. It was like he was offering himself to be eaten. The “wolf” did a little more huffing and growling before sniffing at Sage Fenric’s cloak, licking his hand (which Lilian found a bit over the top) and then scurrying away, over the lip of the grove and down the slope to Lilian’s left. Then, much like an actual performance, Sage Fenric turned to meet a round of applause from the onlookers. Lilian almost expected him to bow but he just pontificated some more about the benefits of sacrifice. Lilian could stomach no more of it. And so she turned on her heel and exited the grove.

Half an hour later Lilian was sitting in the back room of the Stave Church, pacing back and forth and venting her frustrations to Brother Thomas,

“It’s just so obvious!” she shouted, “All the cloying, self righteous performance of it all. How is it that none of them see through him??”

Brother Thomas was staring into the wet leaves of an empty tea cup while Fritha sat near the fire. “Well, I should think people see what they wish to see. We enjoy our previously held beliefs to be confirmed. So if one wants to believe that this world holds secrets and wonders beyond our understanding then that person will tend to seek out evidence that that is the case. Even when they witness something that evidently contradicts those beliefs, the mind will twist the evidence into lies.”

The church cat had slunk into the room by that point and was making its way to investigate a very surprised looking Fritha. “That’s… that’s…” Lilian was having difficulty finding her words, “that’s insane!” she exclaimed and she slumped into the armchair opposite the Church Brother.

“Not insane,” said Brother Thomas, calmly, “merely… human.”

Lilian huffed. “Humans are insane.” Brother Thomas chuckled. The cat rubbed its head against Fritha’s cheek, causing the feinhound to give Lilian a look of such astonishment that she couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“You seem very calm about all of this, Brother Thomas.” Lilian hadn’t meant for her tone to be so accusatory, but her friend’s lack of concern did bother her somewhat.

“On the contrary,” Brother Thomas protested, “Do not let my demeanour fool you. I am suffering from sleepless nights and restless days. It’s all I can think about. But what can I do? I will not force anyone to go against their will. They have been given all the same information as us and they have chosen not to believe it. It is… out of my control.” Brother Thomas threw up his hands and let them fall to his lap with a surrendering slap.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Everyone, including the animals, tensed up at the sound. Whoever was there did not wait for a signal to enter, and Lilian quickly understood why. The door opened to reveal brown curls and a little lavender dress. Emma poked her head inside and when she saw Lilian her eyes lit up in delight, as if she’d been searching for some time. She rushed into the room and waved to Brother Thomas, who waved back with a smile. Lilian, however, greeted her with a scowl. She pulled curled, outstretched fingers across her face and pointed at Emma. Angry with you. Emma looked sheepish for a moment, guessing the reason for Lilian’s ire. She began to sign but her gestures were too fast and unfamiliar so Lilian reached for a piece of parchment and a quill and handed them to the little girl. Emma plonked herself down and began to write. It took her some time, she was only young after all, but eventually she handed her note back to Lilian for her to read the wobbly message.

Sorry I spied. But it's fine. I found a secret. The yellow man, Fenric. He’s going away.

Lilian took the quill, dipped it quickly in the inkwell on the table next to her and penned a reply.

I know. He’s going up the mountain.

She showed this to Emma who read it and looked back at her with a confused expression. The little girl shook her head in protest. Then she snatched the quill and used the remaining ink to say:

No. I saw maps. He’s not going up the mountain. He’s going far away.

Episode 56

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

Lilian felt her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes remained unblinking and fixed on the blade that the tallest sister, named Tourmaline, was holding just behind little Emma’s head. The little girl had not seemed to notice it and was still distracted by the moppet doll in her hands. Every question as to Sage Fenric’s innocence or motives suddenly left her head. This evil man and his trio of dangerous sisters were as rotten as the fruit hanging on the surrounding trees. The snow continued to fall around them, hissing its quiet chorus as it added to the drifts and peaks. Lilian forgot about cold. Fairness and due diligence left her mind, replaced only by thoughts violence. She took a step forward.

The three sisters moved as one. Tourmaline strengthened her grip on the blade’s handle. Hematite, the middle sister with the bottles strapped to her person, stepped out and round, making to flank Lilian. The youngest sister, whose name Lilian did not know, merely crouched low and looked as though she was about to spring forward. Lilian dug her feet in and calmed her breathing. She’d been in enough fights to sense that one was imminent here, but she didn’t want to move without getting little Emma out of the way. Sage Fenric stepped forward and spoke.

“I’ll admit you’re a clever one Miss Lausanne, and it's always the clever ones that give us the most trouble. May I suggest you use that intelligence to your advantage. You’re outnumbered, outmanoeuvred and we have leverage. Leave us alone and let us get on with our business. We don’t mean anyone any harm, but do not let that fool you into thinking we are weak.”

A question started to brew at the back of Lilian’s mind. Something wasn’t making any sense. Her beating heart and stress-filled brain were not letting her see the clearest picture, but there was something here that was not right. She ignored the feeling and she ignored Sage Fenric. Instead, she looked over at the little girl and waved to catch her attention. It worked. Emma looked up at her with big brown eyes and a curious expression. Lilian did as Emma’s mother had instructed her, she put her fingers together in the air and drew a square. At the same time, she mouthed the word ‘home’. Lilian could tell by the look on Emma’s face that she recognised this gesture immediately. The little girl stepped forward and proceeded to gesticulate several other signs to Lilian, trying to communicate something. Lilian did not recognise any of them, but saw from the little stamp of Emma’s foot, that she was insistent on staying here with Sage Fenric. And so Lilian summoned all of her indignation and drew the square sign in the air again. This time, she made the lines quick and the corners sharp and she added a finger pointing downwards at the end along with mouthing the word ‘now’.

Emma scowled at Lilian. Although she did not know this strange, redheaded woman, she could tell that she had a connection to her mother, and it was this that finally swayed her. Emma clutched the doll tightly and broke away from Tourmaline’s side. She picked her feet up high to run through the snow and only turned round to scowl at Lilian before disappearing into the distance.

Lilian had promised herself that she would not get angry. She even recognised the tactic Sage Fenric was using to try and rile her up. It was working. And Lilian didn’t care. She turned back to look at the group with a flame behind her eyes. Fritha, sensing her changing mood, shifted colours and nearly doubled in size, making sure her teeth were bared as a low jangling growl sounded from deep in her throat. The youngest sister’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Fritha’s shift. Not in horror, but in wonder and curiosity.

Sage Fenric, broke the silence.

“The girl may be gone for now, but there is nothing to say that she will not be caught up in some future altercation between us. She may even sustain an injury later today. An accident perhaps, brought on by certain citizens' refusal to listen to my message.”

Lilian could no longer contain herself, “if you think that I’m going to let you threaten her…”

“You’ll what Miss Lausanne?” interrupted Sage Fenric.

Lilian narrowed her eyes and filled her tongue with venom, “I’ll kill you.” She spoke softly, letting the threat fall through the air like a broken icicle. Sage Fenric’s lip curled into a sneer.

“Stronger than you have tried, my dear.” He looked towards the sisters, who had been approaching Lilian slowly throughout the conversation, “I tire of this welp. Teach her a lesson and send her on her way.”

Tourmaline was the first to strike. The curved sickle-like blade she had shown to Lilian from behind the little girl flew forwards through the air. Lilian was ready though and dodged to the left, letting it whoosh past. She failed to notice though that it was attached to a chain and no sooner had it disappeared behind her, did Tourmaline whip her arm back sending the blade flicking backwards in a deadly arc. Part of the curved edge caught Lilian’s thigh, sending a red hot flash through her leg. She cried out and clutched the wound. She was not dressed for battle and the sickle had easily cut through her leggings. Lilian knew that if she looked down she would see blood, but her attention was drawn to the second sister, Hematite. She had reached into one of her many pockets and had extracted a small bottle with a light green liquid inside it. Lilian caught sight of it sloshing around as her leg buckled from the pain. Hematite began to shake the bottle and Lilian watched the liquid turn a bright and dangerous looking yellow. Meanwhile, the youngest sister leapt forwards, bearing long and sharp fingernails and a murderous grin on her face. She was intercepted by Fritha who jumped up and grabbed the excess material on her sleeve. Lilian stumbled backwards just in time to dodge Hematite’s concoction. The bottle fizzed and shook in the air, letting out a whistle of smoke before shattering just a few metres away from Lilian’s face. Lilian managed to turn and shield her eyes in time, but she could feel small shards of glass embed themselves in her shoulder. When she looked back Tourmaline was already upon her. The chained blade came out in several swift swings. Lilian employed her Attarapian defensive skills and managed to bat each one away, but the sight of red on the snow around her was more than a little distracting.

Lilian finally managed to land a punch square in Tourmaline’s solar plexus, sending the blade user stumbling back. Lilian took advantage of the stun and made to close the distance between them. As soon as she took a step forward though, another potion bottle was flung high in the air. This one was cube shaped with a thick, opaque orange liquid inside. It landed between Lilian and Tourmaline making a square shaped hole in the snow. Lilian jumped back expecting another explosion, but nothing came. In her brief pause, Tourmaline’s sickle was loosed once more, this time in a wide arc from Lilian’s left. Lilian ducked, then ducked again as it came back around. She wanted to grab the chain but Tourmaline’s control of her weapon was too good. With each step Lilian took, the chain was shortened meaning that the only part of the weapon that ever came close to Lilian was the razor sharp edge. Suddenly, Fritha came to help, leaping from the youngest sister over the snow, under the chain and towards Tourmaline. The move made the eldest sister shift her focus, leaving a space for Lilian to run forwards. The snow around them was becoming messy and spotted with blood. Lilian tried to avoid looking at it and focused on the woman she perceived to be her biggest threat. Tourmaline was busy retracting her chain and backing away from Fritha so Lilian ran towards her. It was at that moment, just as Lilian stepped near to it, that the hidden cube bottle exploded. The blast sent a circle of energy through the snow, Lilian’s foot must have been just a few inches away so the force was enough to sweep her feet back and out from under her and send her head hurtling down to the ground. A flash of cold hit her as her head was buried in snow. Lilian also felt a sharp pain and tasted blood as her nose hit the ground.

Despite the angry pain filled fog that descended over her, Lilian knew she was vulnerable and so scrambled quickly to get back up. Forgetting that her leg was cut she put all her weight on it and tried to stand. This caused her to wince and slip again. At the same time, she felt the sole of a boot land heavily on her back, right between her shoulder blades. The force pushed her back into the snow and as she gasped from the pain, she was met with a mouthful of cold ice. There were two more kicks, one to her side and the other to her cut leg. Lilian tried to cry out in pain, but the snow prevented a sound from coming out.

Finally she felt strong fingers on the back of her head intertwining themselves into her wet hair. Her head was yanked backwards sending a shooting pain into her shoulders. Lilian managed to cough out a mouthful of snow and breathe a long and laboured breath. The arm holding her hair lifted her up and out of the snow, bringing her eye to eye with Tourmaline. The eldest sister was kneeling down, swinging her chained sickle playfully from side to side. She was so close, Lilian could see little streaks of white in the blue of her eyes. They looked like lightning bolts.

“So little flame headed Lilian,” Tourmaline spoke as the blade swung scarily close to Lilian’s face, “You’ve tried talking. You’ve tried bargaining, you’ve attempted threats and now you’ve tried violence. All have ended poorly and I am telling you now that whatever tricks you have up your filthy sleeve it will all end the same way. With you, face deep in the snow, begging for us to let you live.” Lilian coughed again causing another wave of pain to shoot through her body. That last kick had connected with some inner organ. Tourmaline’s sister Hematite, came into view now, meaning that it was the third sister that was holding her hair. Lilian looked around for Fritha, but saw no sign of her.

“Honestly my dear, you should listen to Sage Fenric,” Unlike Tourmaline, Hematite spoke with genuine concern in her voice. “Just leave us alone,” she said, “we won’t stay long, and it will be easier on you if you stay away. Maybe travel somewhere and come back in a few weeks.” Lilian wanted to spit, but she was using all her strength to balance on her uninjured leg. Hematite looked beyond her, at the silent sister that was still clutching a handful of Lilian’s hair and said, “That’s enough Spinel.”

Lilian was released and stumbled forward. She just about managed to hold her balance and avoided falling back down. For all the snow that was caked into her clothes and hair, she felt surprisingly hot. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily. Lilian convinced herself that it was from the fight, but deep down she knew that she was burning with shame. She had come unprepared, she’d lost her temper and then she’d lost a fight. She had underestimated this troupe of travelling zealots and her arrogance had cost her dearly. The bold and brazen vow she’d made the night before seemed more like a dream than a memory, fading quickly into obscurity by her inability to keep her word. The three sisters backed away and Lilian turned to leave. She did not trust herself to say anything else. If her time with Mr Attorcop had taught her anything, it was the ability to know when she was beaten. Fritha was waiting for her nearby, limping as well when she walked. The duo left the grove leaving a trail of blood and regret in their wake.

Lilian’s feet carried her through the thickening snow back to town. A hundred scenarios ran through her mind. She could have avoided the second bottle, she should have realised the blade was on a chain, she should never have let Fritha fight alone. Over and over she replayed the events in the grove in her mind’s eye. But she knew that it was all useless. There was nothing she could have done different, if there had been, she would have done it. That strange question came back to her then, the one she’d thought of just before the fight broke out. She knew clearly what it was now. Why? Why were these religious travellers so well armed and so versed in battle arts? It had been bothering her for some time now. Yes there was sense in carrying some weapons while on the road, Lilian had her own very recent experience of bandits and highwaymen. But their skills went beyond mere self defence. Those three sisters worked as one. A quick and efficient team, highly skilled and deathly dangerous. Lilian glanced down at her right forearm. It was one of the only parts of her that was not in pain. She chastised herself for not using gloaming to turn invisible, or to access that strange night power she had discovered in the Empress’ tower while fighting Nicholas Telson. But she shook off the feeling. Those gifts required time to access, and that was one thing the sisters had not given her.

Lilian’s head was swimming, the brightness of the snow was making her eyes ache and each step brought a fresh wave of pain from the cut on her leg. When she looked up, she expected to see home or perhaps the Fox and Octopus. She knew she’d been headed vaguely in that direction, but had been so distracted with regrets that she must have taken a wrong turn. Instead, she found herself looking at a small, squat building that she did not recognise. She looked around and realised that she was near the timber yard, just west of Jacob’s smith. Something about the location seemed familiar but Lilian’s brain was filled with too much fog and anger to process the reason why. The snow continued to fall and Lilian was not sure if she had the strength to find somewhere safer. And so, against all reasoning, she knocked on the door.

The next few moments passed in a haze. It was as if the snow had suddenly thickened into a tempest or a mountain fog had just decided to descend upon the town. Lilian felt a sharp pain in her left knee as she collapsed onto the ground. The door opened and Lilian saw a set of legs emerge from a dark interior. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged indoors and hoisted onto a bed. She caught sight of a fire burning brightly in a hearth. Whoever had carried her inside was rushing around, fetching things and stripping Lilian of her wet clothes. As darkness descended Lilian caught sight of a small figure watching her from the doorway. It had curly hair and a lovely lavender dress. Just before Lilian blacked out, she saw the figure lift its hands and draw a square in the air with its fingers. It was a sign. A sign for home.

When Lilian woke up it took her a few seconds to remember what had happened. Her efforts to understand her situation were stifled by a powerful and painful hunger. She glanced around the room and saw a small and cosy living space. There was a fire burning low in a stone fireplace. Colourful wooden birds adorned the hearth and various dolls and toys were scattered around the floor. It reminded Lilian of her own room from when she was a little girl. There were a few girl’s dresses piled on the shelves of a simple doorless wardrobe. It wasn’t until she saw a wooden spinning top, resting on its side, that she remembered everything that had happened. Lilian stirred beneath the wool blanket. Her body ached but that was nothing compared to the pain in her head. She tried to call out but her throat was so dry that no words came. She attempted to remove the blanket and take a step, but the flood of pain made her quickly abandon the idea.

Just then, she heard footsteps coming towards the door. The little girl from the grove, Emma, appeared there, distracted by a daydream and scanning the floor for a toy or trinket. She wore a faded green dress which tied at the shoulders with wooden toggles. It had little flowers sewn around the hem and had clearly been made with great care. Lilian waved, but Emma must have grown accustomed to having a stranger lying in her bed, because she was too distracted by her current task to notice. Lilian looked about. Thankfully, a plush pig was stuffed between her mattress and the wall, Lilian had clearly been given a friend to keep her company in her rest. She grabbed the button-eyed animal and chucked it at Emma. It bounced off the little girl’s side and caused her to whip round, wide-eyed and smiling. Lilian smiled back and was about to try and communicate her need for water when Emma rushed out of the room. A moment later, she returned, clutching at the hem of her mother’s skirt. Lilian instantly recognised the woman, Esther, that had interrupted her journey to see Sage Fenric. She was much more composed than when they had last met. She was dressed in a grey shawl and she was currently drying her hands on an old cloth.

“Lilian!” she exclaimed, “You’re awake! Hang on, let me get you some water.”

A few minutes later Lilian was sitting up in bed and draining the remaining drops of a large cup of freshly melted snow. Emma was sitting at her feet, clutching the toy pig and glancing from Lilian to her mother. Occasionally she would tap her mother’s arm and Esther would communicate Lilian’s words to her with a series of hand signs.

“And so I must have come straight here,” said Lilian. “I’m sorry to have burdened you.”

Esther shook her head, “it was no burden at all. After Emma came back and told me that a red haired girl had sent her home, I was already thinking of ways to thank you.”

Lilian smiled, “Well, I think a bed for the night makes us more than square. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as…” Lilian stopped mid sentence. The look on Esther’s face had changed from a friendly smile, to one of shock.

“Lilian…” she started, “you came here with a bad cut and a fever. I woke you up every now and then to feed you broth and water but you were never really lucid. You’ve been here for five days.” Lilian’s stomach dropped. Her thoughts quickly turned to her parents, which Esther must have predicted. “I told your mum and dad where you are and they came by every day with supplies. They have your large… dog too. We considered moving you but thought it was better to keep you here. Brother Thomas and that nice man Doran have been here too.” Lilian fell back into the pillow. Five days, she thought. What kind of damage could Sage Fenric have done to Benlunar in all that time? She watched Emma tap on her mother’s arm and Esther told her that Lilian thought she’d been here for just one night. Emma fell about giggling. Jumping up on her knees she held up five fingers in mocking glee. Lilian smiled.

She watched then as Emma and her mother chatted for a moment. Lilian’s head was still heavy but her thirst had been quenched and the smell of stew coming from the other room was igniting her appetite. Her thoughts were trying to plunge her into a state of panic and anxiety. She wanted to ask Esther everything but she couldn’t get the words out. Perhaps it was her headache or perhaps it was the bewitching show of movement taking place in front her.

The mother and daughter communicated effortlessly and silently. The only sound coming from their conversation was the occasional tap when a hand hit a fist or a finger tapped a head or cheek. Lilian didn’t understand the individual signs but felt that she could grasp the gist of what was happening. Little Emma was becoming increasingly unhappy, her signs becoming quick and erratic. Her mother remained calm and insistent. The little girl kept pointing at Lilian and repeating the same phrase over and over again. She had been so excited to see her awaken that Lilian wondered what might be causing this shift in mood. Finally, with tears swelling in the corners of her eyes, she jumped off the bed, grabbed her soft pig and ran out of the room.

Esther, turned to Lilian, smiling, “I’m sorry, why don’t you lie back and I’ll fetch you a bowl of stew, if you have strength enough to eat that is. Would you rather go back to sleep?”

“Thank you,” replied Lilian, “but I think I’ve slept enough. A bowl would be wonderful. Is…” she paused, gesturing to the open door, “is everything alright?”

“Oh, fine,” Esther said, standing up. “Don’t mind Emma, she’s been so excited to talk to you ever since you got here. Going on and on about some plan she has. She needs to understand that you need rest.”

Lilian pushed herself up, the speed of the movement caused her to wince. “I don’t mind! I want to talk to her, it’s just… I can’t speak without…”

Esther turned and sighed, “you’re both as bad as each other. Fine, I’ll fetch a bowl and I’ll translate, but as soon as you finish your last bite you rest, promise?”

Lilian considered jokingly replying with ‘yes mum’ but felt that that might be pushing it. Instead she just smiled and nodded.

Emma turned out to be a keen conversationalist. She had rushed back into the bedroom and thrown herself onto the covers, narrowly missing Lilian’s foot, and had started signing before her mother had had time to walk back in and sit down. She asked Lilian how she came to be hurt and Lilian told her about the fight with the three sisters. Lilian worried at first that the little girl might not believe her, she had seemed so infatuated with Sage Fenric and his toys that Lilian assumed her to have gone the way of the rest of Benlunar. But this was not the case. Emma nodded along in understanding as if the story only seemed to confirm what she already believed. She interrupted once when Lilian mentioned the third sister. The one who fought without weapons and had that strange look in her eyes when she’d seen Fritha. Emma tapped on Lilian’s foot and began signing something to her mother. Esther looked confused for a moment. Emma repeated the gestures again and again but Esther did not seem to garner any clarity from them.

“What is it? What’s she saying?” Lilian asked.

Esther shook her head. “I’m not sure, she keeps saying animal and woman. Then that, that’s a sign for change. But it’s the sign I use for when I want to change her clothes. So not like when a season changes. That’s different.”

Suddenly, a memory triggered in Lilian’s mind. After her humiliating defeat, as Hematite was advising her to leave Benlunar for a while, she had turned to the last last sister and told her to let go of Lilian’s hair. She had addressed her by name. Spinel. That name was familiar. Hadn’t it been what she’d called the bird that had showed her where to find those herbs down by the river a week ago? Could they be…

“Esther, could you ask her if one of the sisters can turn into animals?” Esther’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was in that Broth? Are you both…”

“Please,” Lilian interrupted her. Esther considered how to phrase the question and then turned to put it to her daughter. The look on Emma’s face lit up the room. She clapped and nodded and showed Lilian her toy pig, then she reached behind her for a toy dog, a sheep and then just pointed at anything in the room that was shaped like an animal. Which was a lot of things. Lilian smiled.

“Thank you Esther, how can I sign to her that I understand.” Esther still looked very confused but she showed Lilian a quick gesture that involved pointing a finger repeatedly upwards while nodding. Lilian repeated the gesture to Emma which prompted another smile followed by a big hug. Then the little girl turned back to her mother. Esther translated.

“She says, thank you, red girl. That’s what she’s been calling you. Thank you for understanding. I was scared no one would believe me.” Esther turned back to Lilian. “But… she’s joking isn’t she? People can’t turn into animals. That only happens in the stories.”

Lilian pursed her lips in thought before replying, “the more I learn about these visitors, the more strange and dangerous they become. I don’t doubt for a second that one could turn into a beast. I’ve already seen her bestial nature for myself.” Lilian’s right hand reached up to the back of her head absentmindedly. “I underestimated them again and I’m afraid Benlunar will pay the price for my arrogance.”

She felt the sting of tears coming back to her eyes. Esther put her hand on Lilian’s arm.

“Benlunar is capable of making its own decisions. If we trusted everything to fifteen year old girls then the Fox and Octopus would serve only sweets and the town square would be an ice rink. Take that weight off your shoulders and rest. You’ll figure it out. You might have taken a hit but you still managed to make a big impression.” She surreptitiously moved her eyes towards Emma who was staring lovingly at Lilian. “I’ve a feeling you’ve more supporters than you think. But put that aside for now. Rest, Lilian Lausanne. You can save the world tomorrow.” With that, she got up and gestured to Emma to leave her alone.

Lilian watched them both exit the room and was about to fall back onto her pillows and give the biggest world-weary sigh she’d ever given, when little Emma tiptoed back into the room. She must have ducked into her mother’s blindspot and rushed back to complete some secret mission. The look on her face was one of iron resolve. She kept glancing back towards the door to check that her mother had not followed her. When she was finally sure they would not be disturbed, she thrust something into Lilian’s hand and then sped out of the room like a rabbit from a snare. Lilian smiled. She looked down to see what Emma had given her. In her palm, was a scrap of parchment, folded over and over until it was just hard edges. Lilian unfolded it and flattened it across her knee. There was a message written in wobbly charcoal script. It took Lilian a second to decipher it but eventually, the letters became clear:

I KNOW THEY ARE BAD. I WILL SPY FOR YOU.

Episode 55

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

“Lilian, what are you doing?” Lilian looked at her mother. Her face was a picture of sadness and confusion. Lilian had never seen her look this way before and her heart cracked at the sight of it. Her grip on Sage Fenric’s yellow cloak relaxed and her right elbow dropped slightly from its poised to punch position.

“Lilian?” Her mother repeated her name. Lilian felt a familiar kind of temper enter her body.

“Mum, it’s fine. I’m dealing with it.” Polly Lausanne stepped forward, the crowd parted to let her through.

“Dealing with what exactly?”

“Mum,” Lilian raised her voice, “We can discuss this at home.” A flash of that feeling hit her again. There was only one or two people who could make her feel like this, this foot stomping, huffing and puffing anger. The anger of a child.

“Let go of him right now and get down from there.” Lilian tensed her grip again, her body acted automatically in opposition to her mother’s wishes.

“You don’t understand. He’s dangerous and he needs to leave Benlunar. I’m making sure he listens.” She directed this last comment to Sage Fenric. His face portrayed an intense calmness, like he was somewhere else, just watching the events in front of him unfold. His eyes darted quickly back to Lilian’s mum, to check her reaction.

“And what has he supposed to have done that is so dangerous?” she demanded. Lilian clenched her teeth.

“It’s not about what he has done, it’s about what he will do.” Lilian’s temper was transforming into a rage. She could feel her nails digging into her palm.

“And is that the kind of person you are Roux? Someone who judges others for things they haven’t even done?”

Even though Lilian could still feel her heart beating out of her chest, she felt her grip begin to relax again. Her mother’s words rang around inside her head. She saw the scene through her eyes, through the eyes of the gathering crowd and she realised how mad she must look. She let Sage Fenric go and turned to leave. Before jumping off the platform though, she turned back to Sage Fenric. She spoke to him in a hushed tone.

“My warning still stands.” Sage Fenric’s neutral expression shifted. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. To an outside observer, it was a kind and understanding expression. But Lilian saw straight through it to the dark heart that it was hiding. He then said six perfectly placed words. The exact words Lilian needed to hear for all that rage and wrath to come flooding back all at once.

“You should listen to your mother.” And then Lilian punched him so hard that he was knocked off the platform.

The argument that ensued back at Lilian’s house was one for the stories. Voices were raised, tempers were lost and insults were hurled like sharp little rocks. Lilian tried to explain over and over about the village that Doran had described, about how she feared for the future of her home and about her suspicions concerning Sage Fenric and his weird sisters. Lilian’s mother countered each of these with her own arguments. About how she had not seen any evidence of wrongdoing, about how she had raised Lilian better than someone who used violence to solve their problems, about how she barely recognised the daughter standing in front of her. Both of them kept turning to Lilian’s father for support and they got even angrier when he supported neither of them. Finally Polly Lausanne’s anger gave way to tears. Lilian hated seeing her mother cry and what was even worse was that she was the cause of it.

“You don’t understand,” said her mother through a tight throat and a snotty nose, “the first day that Sage Fenric spoke at the Stave, he asked us to wish for something. Something real he said, and he promised us that it would come true. I wished for you to come back to Benlunar. And the very next day…”

“But Mum…” Lilian interrupted her but her mother’s hand shot up to stop her speaking.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said, “I know you’re going to say that you would have come back anyway and I know that, I’m not stupid. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t right. And if he was right about that, just think what else he might be right about.” Lilian rolled her eyes.

“What, you mean this garden nonsense?”

“You see,” said her mother, “why do you say it like that? Like you know everything, like you know better. Now, alright, I’ll admit I don’t know what this garden thing is either, but I’m open to learn about the world we live in. Isn’t that why you went with Mr Attorcop in the first place? To learn about incredible things? Why are you allowed to do that and I’m not?” Lilian bit her lip. She’d said all she could. She’d reasoned all she could. Her mother wasn’t listening and that was causing the divide between them to widen more and more by the second. What’s more is that her last point made sense. There were things to learn, it was just that Lilian didn’t trust this particular teacher. Lilian sighed. She knew she needed to apologise but she also knew that if she did then she would be the one in the wrong and she would potentially have to sit back and watch Benlunar get twisted by this horrible man. She needed to think.

“I’m… I’m going out for a walk.” Her mother wiped away a tear.

“I’ll put dinner on for when you’re back.” Then Lilian hugged her mother tightly and spoke softly into her ear.

“Just promise you’ll be careful alright?” She could feel her mother’s body shake with a little laugh.

“That’s what I’m supposed to say!” They smiled at each other and although not everything was forgiven, it was at least better understood.

“Take a cloak,” her father spoke up for the first time since they’d arrived back, “the nights are getting cold.” Lilian smiled at him and nodded. She grabbed an old green travelling cloak from the pegs by the door and whistled for Fritha to join her. She turned to look at her parents before she left. She opened her mouth to say something, but all the words had already been said.

The evening was clear but Lilian’s mind was mired in fog. She walked briskly, taking deep, chilly breaths. Her father was right. The air was getting colder every day and the snow would soon be upon them. She hoped Sage Fenric didn’t use that as another excuse to stick around. A gust of wind passed overhead, sending a flurry of yellowing leaves down and around her. Fritha snapped at them, trying to catch one in her mouth. Lilian normally found this hilarious, but her eyes were fixed forwards and her feet marched on: relentless. A hollow, sick feeling began to form in her stomach. It came with a sense of dread that not only would Sage Fenric not be gone by morning, but that her actions earlier that day had only served to help his cause. She became angry at herself for letting herself become angry.

And then she stopped. She’d been walking without purpose or direction and as usual whenever that happened in Benlunar she found herself staring up at an old, familiar sight. A giant stone toad with a peaceful expression on its wide, rocky face. Behind that, the mountain peak, still sprinkled with white from last year's snow fall. The sound of gurgling water came from the ground around her and Lilian smiled and breathed out. She felt her shoulders relax, her fingers uncurl and the tension at the base of her skull, which she had not even been aware existed, ease. Her whole body lightened and with that came tears. Lilian was surprised by their arrival but they were not unwelcome. She’d been growing ever more concerned for her home and coupled with the memory of Kilde and all that she’d left behind, well, it all became quite overwhelming. After a few sorrowful moments, she looked up at the Padda Stone and spoke.

“I’m scared, Gorakja. I’m back home and I thought I’d be happy but I’m terrified. This isn’t like Freedos. I don’t think I’m going to be able to punch my way out of this one.” She looked down at Fritha. The feinhound was lapping at the edge of the great pond. The cold mountain water was causing her coat to shift into icy blue waves that rippled over her body. Lilian smiled. She felt alone but she had to remind herself that she was anything but. She had Fritha, she had Brother Thomas and even though they weren’t seeing eye to eye right now, she had her parents as well. Then, as if on cue, she heard a noise coming from behind her. It sounded like someone stepping on a twig. Lilian whipped around, drying her eyes as she moved. She wondered why Fritha hadn’t alerted her of the person’s approach, but when she turned, she saw why. The person approaching was a friend.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Doran. Even though it was quite dark, Lilian could see that he was red in the face. Large clouds of vapour rose into the air with every exhalation. He paused to catch his breath before explaining himself, “I saw you walking through town like a demon was at your back so… I thought I’d check in.” He walked over to a group of large rocks and sat down on the largest one. “You seem troubled, Lilian.”

Lilian, snorted, “That’s one way of putting it.” She turned back to look at the statue.

Doran got out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. “I heard about what happened at the paddock.” Lilian felt her cheeks redden. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

Lilian attempted a smile but her shame prevented it from becoming anything more than a sheepish grin. “You must be the only one in town who thinks so.”

Doran shook his head. “You’ve more supporters than you think, but… yes I should say most people were rather shocked.” He began to chuckle and Lilian couldn’t help but join him. His laugh was deep and infectious and Lilian felt herself begin to cheer up at the sound of it. Suddenly, it stopped.

“By the stories…” said Doran, clutching his handkerchief to his chest. Lilian followed his gaze to the Padda Stone, in his haste to sit down, Doran had not noticed it until now. His eyes widened in delight. “Is that…?” He stood up and came to stand beside Lilian.

“That,” replied Lilian, “is the Padda Stone. It’s very special to Benlunar. Some say…” she was about to launch into the legend and supposed history of the stone and its relationship to the town, but Doran cut her off.

“It’s one of the Dwaemor…” his breath was coming out in short, shaky puffs now and Lilian saw the corners of his handkerchief shaking as his knuckles began to whiten as he tightened his grip on it.

Lilian’s face scrunched up in confusion, “One of what?”

Doran looked at her as if she had spouted some odd song in a different language. “The Dwaemor,” he repeated, “surely you must know the rhyme?” They looked at each other for a moment, each one assuming the other had gone completely mad. Finally, Doran broke the silence. He lowered his voice and began to recite in a slow and respectful tone:

“Twelve Hells and seven heavens,

seven Dwaemor for eleven weapons.

A force of nature, an army of light

Joined together by darkness to fight

One world with many fates

The champions stand to keep it safe.”

There was a silence, punctured by the dusk chorus of croaking frogs. Doran looked at Lilian, hoping to find recognition in her eyes, but she just stared back at him blankly.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, turning back to the Padda Stone, “it’s quite… ominous.”

Doran chuckled, “Aye, it is that. I’m surprised you don’t know it seeing as you grew up near a Dwaemor. It’s one of our oldest stories. Basically there are several of these stone creatures, scattered around the world. I’ve seen four of them and… well, now I’ve seen five.” Doran beamed with pride.

“That’s impressive,” she said, “I’ve only seen two. This one, and a bird.” Doran’s head whipped round to look at her.

“A bird you say?” he asked, “Goodness me. I’ve not seen a bird. I should like to one day though.”

Lilian thought about this for a second before responding. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t tell you where it is. I swore an oath that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Doran didn’t seem upset at all by this. “Oh don’t you worry Lilian,” he said, chuckling once more, “after all, the joy is in the hunt, not the finding. You’ve already led me to one I never thought I’d find, so I’d say you’ve done more than enough. I shan’t ask you to betray your word.” They went back to silently staring at the statue. “He is very impressive.”

Lilian smiled and nodded, “He is. But I don’t think he’ll be much help when it comes to dealing with Sage Fenric.” Lilian didn’t know if Doran was aware of The Padda Stone’s true nature, he certainly didn’t mention it. Even if he did, she did not know when Gorakja would return or how a giant talking toad might be able to help her. Like it or not, this was her task alone.

Just then, a thought struck her. She turned to Doran and asked, “who is our?” Doran pulled his eyes away from The Padda Stone to look at Lilian, confused. “When you said the poem, you said it was one of ‘our’ oldest stories. Who is ‘our’? Where are you from Doran?” Although they had spent some time together by now, Lilian realised that she still knew very little about the traveller. Doran smiled and turned back to the stone.

“I’m a traveller, Lilian. I’m from nowhere and everywhere. Alicium is my home and she provides me with everything I need. I suppose if I had to narrow it down I would say I grew up across the grassland planes, far south of here. But my travels have taken me all over the world, even as far as Doma, although even one as silver tongued as myself has never set foot inside its walls. When I say ‘our’ I mean my people. Travellers have a way of recognising each other and we always share stories when we meet. A good story can save your life, you know?”

Doran’s words suddenly triggered a memory in Lilian’s head, “Are you part of the Laguina people?”

Doran looked taken aback, “How do you know of the Laguina folk?”

Lilian shrugged, “Something a friend of mine told me once. He said they believe in the power of names.”

Doran smiled broadly and nodded, “Aye, that they do. Some say it was the Laguina that gave us the names of all things. The nomads descended from those before there were towns, travellers from before there were roads, namers from before there were names. I’m not Laguina, but I’ve met a few of them and they’ve helped me several times. Talk about stories. The Laguina tell some of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard. Many of them ended up in your Stave’s book, although the Laguina would never write them down. They believe that stories are alive, and like all living things, they change as they grow old.” Doran looked over at Lilian and studied her for a moment. He remembered their first meeting and how he was convinced she was a spirit of some kind. “I get the feeling,” he said, looking at her crossed arms and stern expression, “that you’ve some stories of your own.”

Lilian smiled. “A few. Most end quite happily…” she trailed off.

Doran, picked up the trail, “but you’re worried about this one, aren’t ye?”

Lilian breathed out a long sigh. Then she stepped forwards a few paces so that she was closer to the water and closer to the Padda Stone. She widened her stance, clenched her fists raised her voice. Doran fell silent, watching her talk to the mountain.

“This town,” she said, “is under my watch. By the light of the moon and the strength of the mountain I swear it. I will not let it fall into ruin.” Then she turned back to Doran with a smile and new energy. “Thank you Doran, for telling me about Sage Fenric.”

Doran was taken aback. “Of…Of course Lilian. I say ‘tis a good oath you made. I’ve been here only a few hours but I sense Benlunar is a special place. As far as I can help you, I swear I will.”

“Do you swear on the mountain?” Lilian giggled.

“Aye!” exclaimed Doran, “and on the stars that guide, the rivers that wind and the ties that bind.” At that moment, Fritha tipped her head to the moon and joined in the oaths with a tolling howl. Lilian and Doran laughed and looked skyward. And then, as if answering their calls, the first flakes of snow began to fall around them. Lilian felt them fall softly onto her cheeks. Winter was upon them and with it the work began.

The next morning, Lilian got up early with Fritha and marched back to the paddock. She had been serious in her threats to Sage Fenric but she had also had time to calm down and think things through. Violence might not be the best way to handle the situation and so she would have to approach the problem a little differently, from a more diplomatic perspective. This required a lot of ground work and that all started with paying the Sage and his cohorts another visit.

In order to get straight to the paddock from Lilian’s childhood home, you would need to climb a particularly steep rock face and then make your way up a series of slippery stone steps. With Benlunar now being covered in a thick layer of snow, this path was less than desirable. And so Lilian and Fritha took the road into town and then took the side streets east until they hit the dirt path that led round the mountain to the paddock. By the time Lilian reached the closely packed houses in this part of Benlunar she was enjoying listening to the crunch of the snow underfoot and the slight hiss in the air that the snow produced as it hit the floor. It was still early and so the streets were relatively quiet so she was surprised to see another person walking towards her. Lilian looked down at Fritha quickly to make sure she was disguised, luckily, she had her shaggy dog coat on. This would avoid any unwanted questions and probably helped with the cold as well.

The person approaching was a woman that Lilian did not recognise. This was not so strange, Benlunar was a small town but not so small that everyone knew everyone by sight. Lilian might have walked straight past her and paid her no mind, except for the fact that this woman was clearly not dressed for the weather. Lilian wore a big coat, thick woollen tights, fox fur gloves and fur lined boots. Most of her old clothes still fit, although the coat sleeves came up to her elbow when she stretched her arm out. The approaching woman had none of these. She wore leather workman’s trousers and a white cotton shirt. Granted the shirt had long sleeves, but it could not be expected to keep her warm. The main thing that drew Lilian’s attention however, was the look of anguish on the woman’s face. Her eyes darted about, glancing down every street and alley she passed. She looked as though she’d been out half the night. Lilian hailed her as she approached.

“Are you alright mrs?” The woman’s wild eyes landed on Lilian and studied her and Fritha for a moment before answering.

“I… yes. I’m just looking for someone. You haven’t seen a little girl, have you? Curly brown hair. She… she can’t talk.” The description caused instant recognition in Lilian’s mind.

“Does she have a lavender dress?” The woman’s eyes widened with hope. She took a few steps closer, raising her feet high to get them over the snow.

“She does! Yes. She’s my Emma. Please, where is she??” Lilian could hear the desperation in her voice. She was glancing past Lilian as if her daughter might appear just behind her. Lilian approached her slowly and spoke in her most soothing voice.

“I saw her yesterday morning. She was down in the paddock talking with the sage.”

This produced a look of confusion on the woman’s face, “The sage?” she said. “Who, that strange man who spoke at the Stave? What was she doing there?”

“I think she was just curious. He gave her a toy and then she ran back to town.” Lilian could tell that a hundred thoughts were racing through this woman’s mind.

“So that’s where she got it…” she said in recognition. “Funny man. He’s the funny man.” In a flash, she turned around and started making her way back from where she’d come. Lilian ran to catch up with her.

“Wait, you must be freezing. Here, look. I’m actually headed to the paddock now. Why don’t I see if she’s there and if she is I’ll send her home. She might already be back and waiting for you. You head home and check, I’ll come by later.” The woman looked at her with tired eyes. She seemed as though her mind wanted to run to the paddock but her body was begging her for warmth. She looked down at her hands. Lilian saw that her fingertips were bright red. They’d be going numb soon if she didn’t warm them up. Slowly, she nodded.

“Yes, I’ll go home and… and see if she's there. We live near the timber yard, just west…”

“Of Jacob’s, I know the place.” Lilian finished her sentence for her. “I’ll see you there soon.”

The woman made to leave, but turned back before she’d gone much distance.

“My name is Esther. And if you see Emma, do this:” she then held her hands up, her two forefingers outstretched and drew a square in the air with them, starting from the top and meeting back at the bottom. “It means home.”

Lilian nodded, “I’m Lilian, and of course. Thank you.” And so both women turned around and trudged onward through the snow drift.

Lilian reached the paddock within half an hour. The snow was still powdery and Lilian slipped several times on the path down to the clearing. When the paddock came into view Lilian couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the place again. The snow covered the floor like thick velvet and the trees were beginning to form fuzzy white hats. Even the caravans looked pretty, although Lilian was loath to admit it.

It was still early and so no one from the town had come to listen to Sage Fenric speak just yet. Lilian was grateful for the quiet. She wished to speak Frankly with the so-called Sage. She marched across the snow, doing her best to appear intimidating. She looked up to see a large black bird fly overhead and squawk a few times. It landed somewhere beyond the caravans and Lilian quickly lost sight of it. The noise seemed to alert the residents of the caravan as soon after Lilian saw Sage Fenric emerge from his wooden, road-ready residence. Fritha growled a low jangling sound as she padded alongside Lilian.

Before Lilian was too close, Sage Fenric began to speak, shouting slightly to cover the ground between them,

“If you’ve come to blacken my other eye then I should warn you, your mayor has agreed to imprison you, if I should feel as if I’m in further danger. You needn’t worry though. I put the whole thing down to a lost temper.”

Lilian continued to trudge on, not heading his warning and closing the gap between them further. “I suppose you’ll be wanting my thanks.”

Sage Fenric shrugged, “I’d prefer an apology, but thanks will suffice.” At that moment the three women, the sisters, came out. Two from their own dwelling and one from round the other side of Sage Fenric’s caravan. Unlike Sage Fenric, they were not wearing their robes. The tallest sported battle leathers, the middle wore a tunic with an array of belts and pouches strung around her waist and shoulders. In them were various vials and bottles, each containing strange coloured liquids. The youngest wore just a dark cotton shirt and dark trousers. All looked as though they were ready to kill. Lilian instinctively felt her feet shift into the first defensive Atarapian stance.

“Well you’ll get neither,” she said, “I notice you have not heeded my warning and you insist on staying in Benlunar.”

Sage Fenric opened his arms out wide, “the only person who seems to object strongly to our being here is you my darling. Perhaps your ire would be eased if you left instead, or at the very least, left us alone.”

Lilian shook her head. “Again, neither of those things are going to happen. But this is what I will say…”

Sage Fenric held up a finger to interrupt her, “Before you say anything Miss Lausanne, I suggest you bear your audience in mind…” Just then, he glanced over at the tallest sister. Lilian followed his gaze.

There, a shy figure stepped out into the open from behind the woman. Lilian saw little brown ringlets and a lavender dress. It held a doll in its hands and was distracted by playing with its mop of hair. The girl, Emma, looked up and saw Lilian but was unsure as to what to do so she went back to playing with the doll. What she did not see was the curved blade that the tallest sister brought out slowly from behind her back. She kept it by her side, level with the little girl’s throat. Lilian looked back at Sage Fenric.

“As I was saying, be careful what you threaten Miss Lausanne. You wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt…”

Episode 54

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

Every muscle in Lilian’s body suddenly tensed. Her eyes snapped open causing her to reel slightly from the sudden, intense brightness. She had to make sure she had heard Sage Fenric correctly. What was the word he had used just now? Followed? But… how did he know? She looked down at her hands to make sure she was still invisible, sure enough all she could see was the forest floor, littered with brown pine needles and the occasional exposed root. She looked back up to the caravans in the middle of the paddock where she saw Sage Fenric talking with the two blue cloaked sisters. They were glancing about just as Lilian had been, trying to place their pursuer. Sage Fenric smiled at their ignorance.

“It’s alright,” he spoke loudly into the air, “you can come out, we mean you no harm.” Lilian could feel her heart beating out of her chest. She had been so careful, how could he possibly… but then, he turned. His smiling face and piercing green eyes focused on the forest but he was not looking at Lilian. He was staring at a large tree about thirty feet to her right. He took a few steps towards the tree and got down to his knee. Lilian thought he’d seen a particularly shy cat and was trying to get it to come closer so that he could stroke it. He smiled broadly and gestured with his arms for the thing to come forward.

“Why don’t you come out from there?” He said, “There you are. Hello little one.” Lilian craned her neck to see who or what he was talking to.

Stepping out from the forest, shy as midsummer rain, was a little girl. She wore a lavender coloured dress and no shoes. Her hair was brown and curled into tight little ringlets. Lilian guessed she must have been about seven or eight years old. She was approaching Sage Fenric slowly and cautiously but Lilian could tell she was curious and excited. The knuckles of her right hand were in her mouth, doubtless giving her mind the comfort it needed to attack this unfamiliar situation. Sage Fenric continued to smile and gestured her closer.

“Hello my dear, and what is your name?” he waved when he greeted her and he received a timid wave back, but no answer to the question. The child stopped before she reached him and narrowed her eyes. She then took her hand out of her mouth and brought the wet knuckles to her right ear, using them to gesticulate or point at it. She combined this motion with a vigorous shake of her head. Lilian was confused for a second but she realised what was happening at the same time as Sage Fenric.

“Aah… I understand.” He nodded emphatically, smiling all the while. He shifted his mode of communication then, relying more on expression and gesture to communicate with the child. He held up a finger and clearly mouthed the word ‘wait’. Lilian then watched him stand up and go back to his caravan. The child waited patiently, putting her knuckles back in her mouth and looking at the two sisters and the strange black bird. The sisters smiled at her and the shorter one, called Hematite, gave her a little wave as she waited. The child did not respond, she just spun her waist from left to right, causing her dress to float around her. Lilian began to worry. Sage Fenric could be fetching anything from that old caravan: a cake laced with poison, a weapon of some kind. And if Lilian sensed danger then calling out to the little girl would do no good.

A minute later, Sage Fenric emerged clutching his hands together close to his chest. Lilian readied herself for action, digging her heels into the ground and preparing her legs to spring her forwards. She watched intently as Sage Fenric approached the girl, bent down and held his hands out, uncupping them and revealing the secret inside. The little girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. A look of unencumbered glee fell across her rosy cheeks as she saw what he had brought her. In his palm was a little spinning top, whirring round and round, perfectly balanced, made of wood and weighted with shimmering metal that caught the light as it pirouetted. Sage Fenric reached for the girl’s left hand and opened her palm, showing her with his free hand how to stretch her fingers out so that the palm was taught. Then slowly and with great care, he transferred the top onto her palm and steadied her hand. The child giggled so loudly, Lilian could hear it echo off the mountainside. Then, after a time, the top spun out on its side and dropped to the floor.

Sage Fenric picked it up and placed it back in the girl’s hand, closing her fingers over it and pointing at her chest.

“Yours, keep it.” He pushed it into her chest and took his hands away, bringing them to his own body, mimicking the motion. The girl understood, giggled again and did a little dance. Hopping from foot to foot in excitement and looking back at the top to study it carefully. Then, without word or warning she took off in the direction of town, stopping only to wave goodbye to Sage Fenric and nearly tripping on her own feet as she turned. Sage Fenric and the two sisters smiled and waved and the black bird cawed as if it too was saying goodbye.

Lilian felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She’d been invisible for the better part of an hour and the effort was beginning to take its toll. She waited a couple more minutes to see if the group did anything out of the ordinary, but after watching them go about their business and begin preparing a meal she elected to walk away.

Once she was a safe distance she released the gloaming and considered the scene she had just witnessed. There was certainly nothing overtly sinister in Sage Fenric’s actions. She had not learned what Hematite had planned on making with the moss she’d picked by the river, but Lilian’s knowledge of herbalism was admittedly limited. As far as she knew it could have been a calming tea. Somewhere along the journey, Fritha appeared beside her. Lilian touched the back of her neck absentmindedly as she walked. The whole thing was very confusing. Perhaps this man and his companions had nothing to do with that fishing village that Doran had warned her about. Perhaps they were just like him, travellers from afar wishing to ingratiate themselves into the community.

By the time she reached the centre of town her mind had wondered to the identity of the little girl. She cast her memory back to the group of toddlers and children from the nursery who used to bother her and her friends when they played. Tried as she might, she could not remember a deaf girl being among them. It was not as if accepting a toy from Sage Fenric was a sign of malice or danger but Lilian was worried all the same. It was a feeling, an instinct. But this suspicion was laced with guilt. Lilian worried she was judging these strangers too harshly, showing her small town prejudice when all they had done was spoken a few words at church and given a child a gift.

“Good morning Lilian!” Lilian was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of someone saying her name. She looked up and realised she had absent-mindedly walked right into the centre of the town square. Her heart skipped a beat when she realised Fritha might be seen but a quick glance to her right found the feinhound to be disguised as a large shaggy dog, the same look she had used those two years passed when she had followed Lilian and Mr Attorcop into town. The voice had come from Brother Thomas who was walking over to her.

“How are you today? My goodness that’s a big dog.” Lilian smiled.

“A little tired, but well thank you. This is Fritha, Fritha, this is Brother Thomas.” The feinhound walked over to greet brother thomas, wagging her tail as she did so. Brother Thomas seemed apprehensive and his pace slowed as he approached. He lifted a hand and looked like he wanted to pat Fritha on the head but the hand never quite made contact and seemed to be there as more of a defensive barrier. Sensing his fear, Fritha turned and ran back behind Lilian.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” asked Lilian, hoping Brother Thomas would be the one to make a decision about Sage Fenric. His face fell at the question as if he had just been transported back to a sleepless night.

“I have deliberated on the matter all last night, as well as for most of the early morning. I feel…” Lilian saw him struggling to hear himself speak the words, “I feel as though the risk is too great. If the future of Benlunar is that of the village your friend described then I cannot allow myself to be a part of its making. I will deny him the Stave and ask the mayor if Sage Fenric and his troup can be asked to move on.” Lilian could understand his reluctance. Benlunar was supposed to be a welcoming place, a place where weary travellers could find rest and where tourists could come to get away from the worries of their lives. She placed a hand on Brother Thomas’ arm.

“I understand and I support your decision. It’s as you say, the risk is just too great.” There was a moment of silence as the pair mourned the loss of something, a quality they thought they possessed, a virtue they prided themselves on without even knowing it. Lilian shook the feeling off her and smiled through it. “Don’t worry, the town will soon forget. Winter is round the corner and everyone will be preoccupied with a leaking roof or birds nest in the chimney or something.” Brother Thomas sighed.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Say, I was heading to Eiric’s for some breakfast if you’d like to join me.” Lilian smiled, Eiric was a local baker, the only man in town who could give Xander a run for his money, although he specialised more in sweet breads rather than savoury bakes. It was a sort of unspoken agreement the two men had, one took the main course, the other provided dessert.

“I would love that.”

The two friends followed the scent of sweet pastry down the hill. On Eiric’s recommendation Lilian picked a warm and fresh almond pastry. The sweet nuts had just been brought into town two weeks ago and were proving very popular with the locals. Brother Thomas elected for a small toffee fig pie and the two sat on a wall nearby and enjoyed their meal. Lilian told Brother Thomas all about her time away and, seeing as he was more familiar with the workings of The Guiding Hand, she told him a more detailed version than the one she’d told her parents. Swearing him to secrecy, lest they worry her mother into an early grave. Fritha was sitting opposite them looking as if she was transfixed by the story, when in reality she just had her eyes on every morsel of bread that disappeared into Lilian’s mouth. The bread was long gone by the time Lilian had finished telling Brother Thomas everything that had happened to her and instead of asking questions the Church Brother just shook his head in disbelief.

“Incredible,” he whispered under his breath, “truly incredible. Lilian, you’ve achieved and seen more as a teenager than most people manage in an entire lifetime. Can I ask, what brought you back to Benlunar?” Lilian was confused at the question.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” started Brother Thomas, “you have the skills and training to help people who are truly in need. There must be communities that could really use someone like you on their side. Why come back here?” Lilian was taken aback.

“Well, this is my home. I wanted to see my family and my friends. I suppose I’ll move on eventually but for now I just want to rest.” Brother Thomas nodded.

“And you’ve earned that rest. I’m glad you’ve returned. Benlunar is so cut off from the rest of the world that it’s sometimes easy to assume that nothing else exists out there.” He gestured to the view and the valley, “having someone leave and come back keeps the rest of us from assuming that this town is all there is.” Lilian considered this.

“I’m fine with Benlunar knowing more about the world, but I’m not sure how I feel about the world knowing about Benlunar.” Brother Thomas laughed.

“Yes it is tempting to try and keep this place a secret. But the world is getting smaller every year. For now it’s a few tourists, but soon it will be travellers, settlers, caravans. You can try to keep the world from your doorstep but that won’t stop it knocking.” Lilian heard his tone shift and she got the sense that he was back to thinking about Sage Fenric. She smiled and tried her best to sound reassuring.

“We welcomed you when you first arrived, didn’t we? And we can welcome others too. As long as you have a kind heart you have a place in Benlunar.” Brother Thomas turned his head to look at her.

“You truly believe that, don’t you?” Lilian shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Brother Thomas hopped off the wall and brushed the dirt from his church robes.

“Because we’re about to kick a man out for the crime of speaking about a garden.” Lilian jumped down after him and they began walking back up the road.

“We?? Who said anything about we?” Brother Thomas laughed again.

“Well this old monk might be dangerous, I shall need a bodyguard to keep me from being struck by his frail hand.” Lilian rolled her eyes.

“Fine, if you’re too craven to deliver the news by yourself I suppose I could help you.” When they reached the town square they said goodbye to each other and promised to meet at the Stave in an hour so that they could go and inform Sage Fenric about the decision.

Lilian took the time to visit her horse at The Fox & Octopus. Afaran seemed comfortable enough and appeared to visibly cheer up when he saw Lilian, although that may have been because of the bag of oats she had been carrying. Lilian made an agreement with Liny and Xander that, should she fail to visit, they would feed and water Afaran and exercise him whenever possible. A beast like that could not stand being idle. Lilian knew that she should probably sell him to someone who might have more need of him, but she’d come to enjoy the horse’s company, he was a strong and reliable friend. Lilian felt a pang of guilt when she had to leave him to go and meet Brother Thomas, but they’d taken a short ride together and Lilian had brushed his coat and cleaned his hooves and fed him enough apples to make sure he felt sufficiently spoiled.

When she came back to the town square there was already a small crowd gathering outside of the Stave. Brother Thomas was there standing in front of the Church door holding court. He seemed to be trying to placate the crowd. He looked relieved when he caught sight of Lilian and gestured for her to come and join him. He was currently engaged in conversation with several townsfolk, a few of whom Lilian recognised. There was a short, stout man with a black moustache who Lilian knew as Mr Nilsen. He owned a pear orchard a little ways down the mountain. There was a tall woman with a very pointed nose who seemed to have put on her most expensive dress for the occasion. That was Mrs Egli, a widow who lived in the north part of town, her house was the one with all the wind chimes in the front garden. There were others as well, but it was these two who were most active in the conversation.

“But you give no reason Brother!” Lilian heard Mr Nilsen protest as she came close.

“I assure you Lukas my reasons are plentiful. I’ve heard from numerous sources that Sage Fenric is a dangerous man who is not deserving of our time and attention.” This prompted scoffs and murmurs from the small crowd.

“Do you have proof of this Brother Thomas?” asked Mrs Egli in her distinct, nasal voice.

“I have it on good authority from a traveller…” this word prompted an even louder grown, Brother Thomas, pushed through it, “from a trusted traveller who has seen his work first hand.” Lilian had pushed her way to the front of the crowd by now and decided to come to Brother Thomas’ aid.

“It’s true,” she said, her voiced raised, “I’ve heard the stories and they’re not good. The towns he leaves behind are left in ruin, their people starve and they neglect their families.” This induced a ripple of laughter from the crowd. One young man, who Lilian did not recognise jeered a retort,

“Do you think us fools?” The crowd cheered their support, “We would never allow that to pass.”

“No I know that…” Brother Thomas was becoming flustered, each passing minute brought new people and the crowd was quickly becoming unmanageable.

“Then why not let him say his piece Brother?” Mr Nilson’s tone was on the edge between pleading and anger. Lilian had not expected the townsfolk to be this adamant. Suddenly, there was a shift in the mood. The back of the group fell silent as a sharp voice cut through the cacophony.

“My friends, what is the meaning of all this?”

The crowd slowly parted revealing Sage Fenric in his yellow cloak, flanked by the three sisters. There was a moment of tense silence. Lilian and Brother Thomas stood at one end of the gap in the gathering, blocking the entrance to the Stave, Sage Fenric took his place at the other end barring the way to the marketplace. The two parties squared off. Out of the corner of her eye, Lilian saw Brother Thomas’ hand clench into a fist. The silence was broken by the young man who had spoken up before. He was tall and thin with wispy beard hair lightly covering the lower half of his slender face.

“Brother Thomas says he is to deny you the Stave Sage Fenric. He reckons you’re dangerous.” Lilian’s heart sank, this was not how she’d wanted the decision to be broken to the travellers. They might have a bad reputation, but they were still owed a modicum of courtesy. Sage Fenric listened to the accusation and nodded. He then shut his eyes as if entering a state of deep contemplation and began to slowly shake his head.

“My friends. Please, I urge you, do not blame the Church Brother too harshly. We are dealing with new and exciting ideas and the Church, well, it is not exactly famous for innovation.” There was a small ripple of laughter in the crowd. Lilian felt her jaw clench. “It’s true that what I speak of does not feature in the book of stories, nor does it conform to the traditional teachings. The unknown is often scary. So please. Do not blame them. Your Stave is a beautiful building, but it is just that. A building, made of wood and stone. My message can be shared anywhere. Let us respect our Brother’s wishes. I would not ask a goat herd to sell me wool, nor would I expect a baker to build me a house.” Lilian could see several members of the crowd nod their heads. She felt as though she should be grateful for the situation becoming less tense, but with every word that left Sage Fenric’s mouth, Lilian’s body tightened with frustration. “Let me put this to you,” he continued, “I will go back to my caravan and anyone who wishes to hear what I have to say is welcome to join me there.”

At this, Lilian felt her arms soften somewhat. It wasn’t the solution they’d set out for but as far as compromises go, it wasn’t the worst in the world.

“No. No, I'm afraid that will not do.” The whole crowd, including Lilian, turned to look at Brother Thomas. “This isn’t just about the Stave, Mr Fenric, this is about you. I must ask that you leave Benlunar. Today.” In the silence that followed, you could have heard a doormouse sneeze. All eyes turned back to Sage Fenric as if the crowd were watching some strange sporting event. Sage Fenric’s face had grown serious. He was not quite scowling, but Lilian could tell that his mood had shifted considerably.

“Does he speak for all of you?” He glanced around at the people gathered there. Some shook their heads. Mrs Egli, who had not stopped smiling since Sage Fenric had arrived, spoke first.

“He does not speak for me, Sage Fenric.”

“Nor I,” said Lukas Nilson. Then more people started agreeing with them. Lilian took in a deep breath, sensing the outcome of the situation.

“It seems as though not everyone shares your… thoughts, Brother Thomas. It’s true that I am a stranger to your town, but I was not aware that the Church had the authority to expel anybody…” the young, thin faced man cut him off before he could finish.

“It doesn’t. Only the mayor can do that.” The man’s tone was laced with malice and Lilian almost laughed at his haughtiness. Sage Fenric was not perturbed by the interruption. He simply nodded.

“Then I shall do as I said and if Mayor Hargen decrees my presence unwanted then I shall respect his wishes and the wishes of the townsfolk. For now, I bid you all a good afternoon. Brother Thomas, you are welcome at my caravan any time, I would love to hear more about these concerns of yours. Perhaps I can assuage your fears over a cup of tea. For now, farewell.”

Sage Fenric then turned to leave and the crowd began to disperse. The occasional look of disdain was thrown in Brother Thomas’ direction, but he didn’t seem to mind. Lilian was too distracted to pay the crowd any attention either. She was looking at the tallest of the three women who accompanied Sage Fenric. This woman, Tourmaline, had her eyes fixed on Lilian and the two were locked in a cold stare. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and her lips curled into the slightest of smiles. Lilian had been doubting Sage Fenric’s culpability that whole morning, but that one moment told her everything she needed to know. In a blink, Tourmaline and her sisters were gone, leaving a sorry scene in their wake.

Lilian and Brother Thomas stood in silence for some time. Finally Brother Thomas broke the silence by sighing and saying “Well, that could have gone better.” His shoulders slumped and his expression darkened. Fritha began to lick his hand, the way she always did when she sensed someone was upset. Brother Thomas didn’t even seem to notice. “I knew we should have approached Sage Fenric before telling anyone else, but they came just as I was leaving the Stave and all I did was inform them that there wasn’t going to be a meeting today. I just… I just didn’t think they’d be that concerned.” Lilian turned to him and spoke in her most comforting voice.

“It’s alright. You haven’t done anything wrong. I think we’ve underestimated Sage Fenric and his companions. But that ends now. You go and talk to Mayor Hargen. Tell him everything.” She started walking away from the Church doors.

“What are you going to do?” asked Brother Thomas.

“I’m going to have a word with Sage Fenric.”

Lilian walked across town with steely determination. Whatever doubts she’d had about this mysterious stranger were now well and truly crushed. It was that gloating smile from Tourmaline. Like she’d won a fight without even having to draw a blade. Fritha, sensing the shifting tide, reigned her hair in short and let it grow black, black as Lilian’s mood. Her teeth elongated until they protruded from her top lip and she began to lope quickly, ducking her head beneath her shoulders and sticking herself to Lilian’s side. Lilian had no weapon, but she did not need one.

By the time she reached the paddock there was already a small crowd gathered there. It mostly consisted of the people who had just been outside the Stave, but there were a few newcomers making their way across the grass. Lilian stomped past them. Sage Fenric was standing on a small platform that was suspended from the side of his caravan by two chains. He was already speaking to the crowd by the time Lilian came close. Lilian paid no attention to what he was saying.

“Hey!” she shouted at the old man. The whole crowd turned to look at her. Some of the people at the back reeled in fright at the sight of Fritha’s drooling maw. Sage Fenric remained calm as ever.

“Ah, hello again. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure…”

“There would be no pleasure sir, believe me. My name is Lilian Lausanne and I’m here to give you an ultimatum. This town is under my protection, leave by dawn, or suffer the consequences.” Sage Fenric considered the statement for a second before turning back to the congregation.

“You see friends, this is what I was just talking about. Doubters. Dissenters. Non-believers, they are everywhere and they take many forms. It seems as though your own Church Brother has succumbed to his doubts and fears and now he sends this young woman to fight his battles. See how angry she is, see how she tries even now to dissuade you all.” Lilian felt her face grow red at the accusation.

“I’m not angry and no one sent me. The only reason I’m threatening you is because you pose a threat to us.” At that point, Lilian raised her voice and addressed the surrounding crowd. “This man is lying to you. He goes from town to town and destroys the lives of those who live there. He drives people mad, forces them to go without food for days on end.” She saw looks of concern dotted among the crowd, but instead of asking more questions they turned to Safe Fenric for reassurance. His brow was furrowed in confusion. Then, he began to laugh.

“I must say, this is a theory I’ve not heard before. Very original. But sadly, false. While it’s true that I do travel a fair bit I do not ‘destroy lives’. Perhaps she is referring to how I try and persuade others to give up their old ways and seek better, more peaceful lives through my teachings. I suppose you could interpret that as ‘destroying’ a life.” Lilian had had enough of words. She pushed her way through the small group, shoving shoulders and letting her anger guide her steps. Once she reached the front she hopped up onto the improvised stage in one swift movement. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the blue cloaked sisters tense and take a step forward, but they did not come to Safe Fenric’s aid in time. Lilian was already grabbing the front of his cloak with her left hand. He was about a head taller than she was so she yanked hard on the material, forcing his face forwards and down. Her right hand balled into a tight fist and shot up and behind her head, coming level with Sage Fenric’s green eyes. She paused before landing a blow.

“Get out of Benlunar. Tonight. Or I swear by the stars you’ll wish you had.”

“Lilian?” A voice stayed her hand. Lilian turned to look over her right shoulder and found herself staring directly into the concerned eyes of her mother.

Episode 53

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

“To call the garden beautiful would be doing it a great disservice. Of course it is beautiful, more beautiful than any view, more astounding than any fairy forest from some forgotten fable. But it is so much more than its beauty. It is a place of peace, a place of wonder. It is where sweet dreams meet carefree memories. Where the flowers shine like little lights and the water tastes of freshly squeezed peaches. It is cold when you feel like being cozy, and warm when you wish to bathe in the sunbeams. I have seen it, in visions, felt it briefly while in a state of deep trance and I tell you that ever since learning of its existence it takes all my effort to keep myself from thinking of it always. I’m sure you’re asking yourselves now, ‘Sage Fenric, tell us, how can we glimpse this beauty? How is it that we can visit the garden?’ Well my friends, you need not fear. The garden is there for everyone and large enough to be alone when you wish for solitude and welcoming enough to be surrounded by faithful friends when you wish for company. You have all been kind enough to welcome me and my mine into your town and for that we thank you. In return for your kindness and hospitality, let me give you something in return. Let me give you the keys to the garden so that you may experience its sweetness for yourselves. Let me give Benlunar this gift. Presently I find myself still a little tired from my journey but please, join me tomorrow at this time and I promise, the keys will be yours.

But… before we part ways, a word of warning. The garden is a great prize, and as with most things that are worth attaining in this life the journey there is quite demanding. Only the most devoted will obtain the keys and so please take this night and day to truly ask yourself if you have the dedication, the nerve and the strength necessary to be worthy of the garden. You will encounter many doubters on your journey, people who lack the fortitude to achieve the prize and so will try to keep you from achieving it too, if only as a way to console themselves. My advice to you is to stay strong, pay them no mind and let your reward of eternal peace be justification enough for your actions. Thank you for listening to me, I look forward to speaking to you all again tomorrow.”

The meeting ended somewhat abruptly. Lilian felt as though there was more to be said, as if gathering the entire town into the Stave meant that they were owed more than just a few words. But she did admit to herself that a part of her appreciated the short, sharp quality to the speech. Better that than one of Brother Thomas’ endless musings on one his favourite stories. She looked round to see if anyone else shared her sense of lacking but most people seemed to be excitedly whispering to each other. Perhaps this man’s previous talks had been a similar length and they were not so surprised. Lilian watched him leave the Stave along with his companions. Their cloaks left trails in the dust behind them and they exited the Stave without so much as a look back.

Brother Thomas got to his feet. Some of the townsfolk were standing as well, as if they’d heard all they’d come to hear.

“Well, that was, another interesting talk,” stated Brother Thomas, “While I encourage all points of view and you’re all of course welcome into the Stave any time I do hope to see you all here for our regular meeting three days hence…” Several people smiled politely at him while several more chatted under their breath, ignoring Brother Thomas entirely. A few who were sitting near the entrance actually got up to leave. Once Brother Thomas finished addressing the room, that strange expression returned to his face. A mix of worry and fear.

Lilian stood up and turned to her Mum and Dad.

“I’m just going to see Brother Thomas,” her father’s expression seemed to match that of the Church Brother but her Mother’s face was the picture of gleeful jubilance.

“Hm? Oh yes of course, we’ll come with you.” The Lausanne family picked their way down the raised bench seating and then stepped into the middle of the hall. A confused daughter, a concerned father and an ecstatic mother with a spring in her step. Brother Thomas’ face relaxed when he saw them approach.

“Lilian, it’s so good to see you!” he opened his arms wide and Lilian ran into his embrace. There had been time and business enough to forgive him for his lies about his involvement with The Guiding Hand and Lilian was grown enough now to see he had only been trying to protect her. It wasn’t until she squeezed his waist tightly that she fully understood how much she’d missed him.

“How are you Brother Thomas?” she asked as she released him from the hug. He considered the question.

“I am… well enough. Better for seeing you, surely. I see you’ve witnessed our new visitor.” Lilian’s mother cut into the conversation.

“Isn't he wonderful, Brother? I’ve never heard of this garden of which he spoke. Is it in the book of stories?”

“There are many gardens, glades and grounds mentioned in the stories but they are normally stages for the characters. I cannot think of one garden so important as to warrant its own story. The forest where Denover meets Liebling is described as being particularly beautiful but it’s never given a name. The storiedo not, of course, describe real places, they are merely metaphors for us to better understand our plights…”

Polly Lausanne interrupted him before he got going properly.

“Well perhaps this garden is not part of the stories, but something new entirely. I must say it sounded intriguing. Do you suppose it is somewhere one would travel to? Or perhaps a sort of state of being? Sage Fenric described it as somewhere quite real.” Edward Lausanne had said nothing up to this point but it was clear to Lilian by the shifting of his weight from foot to foot and his occasional long exhalations that he was feeling uncomfortable.

“Whatever it is, I don't think we need concern ourselves too greatly. This Fenric man is a visitor and so will be gone soon I’m sure. A good story is just that.” Brother Thomas nodded and Lilian caught a glimpse of a small smile. Lilian’s mother looked a little crestfallen. Lilian was about to say some consoling words when a man approached their circle. He tapped Lilian on her right shoulder and she turned to see her new friend Doran. He looked agitated and dabbed at his forehead and neck with an old handkerchief as he spoke.

“Lilian… may I have a word?” Lilian smiled when she saw him.

“Oh hello Doran, yes of course. One moment, Doran, this is my mother Polly and my father Edward and this is Brother Thomas, he runs the Stave.” Everyone nodded and smiled politely, Doran even bowed but his nervous twitching never ceased. “Everyone, this is Mikhail Doran, we met on the road up.”

“A pleasure. Mr and Mrs Lausanne you have an exceptional daughter and I must apologise for taking her away from your reunion. I promise to be brief. Brother Thomas, I think my news would interest you as well, would you mind joining us somewhere private?” The small crowd, including Lilian, were a little bewildered by this stranger’s urgency.

“Of course, we can talk in my office.” He gestured to the little door at the back of the hall near the statue of the doe. Lilian said goodbye to her parent’s and promised to meet them at the Fox & Octopus later for dinner. Then she followed Doran and Brother Thomas to the back of the hall.

Once they entered the ‘office’, which was a generous term for a dusty room stacked with books and theatre props, they cleared a path to some chairs and sat down. Lilian had to pick up a sleeping cat before she could sit on the large red armchair, which she felt bad about but after a little stretch and scratch the cat quickly fell asleep again on her lap. Doran did not sit down. He paced around what little floor space there was, muttering the occasional word to himself. Brother Thomas looked worryingly at Lilian who shrugged.

“Doran?” She wanted to ask if he was alright but Doran did not let her get to the question. Instead, a tirade of worried words fell out of him like someone had tipped over one of the room’s many bookcases.

“It was that word, garden, he said. That man, the strange, what does he call himself? A sage? That was odd as well. What even is a sage? A healer? A holy man? I’m not sure, but that wasn’t the only thing. That word he kept repeating. Garden. Not just a garden but he called it the garden. It struck me as strange. I’d heard it before, I’m sure of it, but I could not place the occasion. If he had been in a market or an inn I’m sure I would have not recognised it but we were in a Church. That’s how I remembered! Although… I can’t be sure.”

Lilian suddenly grew very aware of how little she really knew about this man. He’d seemed normal enough during the hours they’d shared on the road. But this behaviour struck her as very odd indeed. Brother Thomas stood up.

“My friend, you seem… agitated. Can I make you a cup of tea?” Doran barely seemed to hear him at first and when he looked up at Brother Thomas’ kind face he seemed not to recognise him. Reality, quickly came back to him and he agreed to the offer.

A few minutes later, Doran was sipping on one of Brother Thomas’ famous brewed chamomile teas. The sweet scent of it, combined with the ticking of the nearby clock and the purring of the cat seemed to slow him down and Doran was back to his old self within half a cup.

“I’m sorry, I just… I have to be sure.” Lilian leaned in closer.

“It’s okay Doran, you're with friends.” Doran nodded, took one more sip of tea and then began to speak.

“A few weeks back, I was on the road and looking for shelter…”

He told a chilling tale. One of a small village, seemingly empty of residents. A little girl worried for her family. A church filled with pious devotees, hungry and gaunt. It ended with a daring escape and feelings of fear and regret.

“It was her, the little girl, Elski that said the word. When I asked where everyone was she said they were trying to go to the garden. I had no idea what that meant at the time. But when that man repeated the phrase just now, the memory of her little thin wrists and big dark eyes came back to me.” Doran bowed his head down and Lilian caught sight of a tear falling from his face. It caught the light for just an instant before falling into his tea. “I left her there with them. And I’ll never let myself forget it.” There was a pause. The clock ticked, the cat snored and Brother Thomas stirred.

“It sounds like you did all you could, Mr Doran. By the way you tell it, they would have kept you there, perhaps even hurt you. And to take a child away from her parents…” He stopped, letting the impossible choice hang in the air between them. Doran wiped his eyes and nose.

“It might be nothing. But I wanted to tell you both anyway. In case… In case that man is dangerous.”

Lilian had been listening intently. She looked down at the little tabby in her lap and absent mindedly stroked its side while she considered Doran’s words.

“Brother Thomas,” she said, “when did Sage Fenric arrive in Benlunar?”

The church brother stood up and went to fetch Doran a handkerchief, “Three days ago. I remember seeing him enter the townsquare in his caravan. It drew quite the crowd. A large brightly coloured thing, pulled by a white plough horse. There were two actually, I assume one belongs to the three women he has travelling with him. We didn’t see much of them that first day, I assumed they were just passing through. But the next morning he came to me to ask if he might speak at the Stave that afternoon,” he gave the handkerchief to Doran who accepted it with a grateful smile. “I asked him what it was he wanted to discuss but he avoided my questions. He told me to trust him and that the people of Benlunar would be glad to hear what he had to say. It’s always been my belief that a Stave should be open to all and I had no reason to deny him.” Lilian watched as Brother Thomas’ forehead wrinkled with concern. He looked as though he might be regretting his decision.

“Where are the caravans now?” she asked.

“Hargen directed them to the small paddock on the west side of town. On the edge of the wood.” Lilian knew the place. It was a communal green where anyone could let their cattle graze. There was a grassy hill there that kept the animals from venturing too far up the mountain. During winter, when the animals were inside, the children of Benlunar would descend en masse to sledge down the hill, seeing who could get the furthest across the flat ground.

Brother Thomas sat down once more and the room grew quiet. The cat continued to snore, its rhythmic squeaks punctuating the otherwise silent seconds. Finally, Lilian took in a deep breath and sighed.

“It’s tricky. Obviously we don’t want Benlunar to end up like that village but we don’t know if that man had anything to do with that. At the same time… this Sage Fenric hasn’t done anything wrong. Not that I can think of anyway.” Brother Thomas nodded his head,

“He is a little strange,” conceded the Church Brother, “but if we start shunning people for being different then well… I would hate to think where that would lead.” Doran blew his nose loudly, startling the cat awake as he did.

“All good points, fair and good. I just… I wanted to bring it to your attention. I would hate to see something bad befall your community and regret not warning you all sooner.”

“We’re very grateful Mr Doran,” said Brother Thomas, standing up once more, “you’ve given me something important to consider. I shall take the evening to think on it and consider the best course of action. It was lovely to meet you sir, you’re welcome at the Stave anytime and Lilian, it’s so good to see you.” Lilian moved the cat off her lap, stood up and hugged Brother Thomas again.

“I’ll come and see you soon,” she said, bringing a wide smile to his face.

“Please do!” he said, “I want to hear all about your adventures!” Lilian beamed at him and said goodbye. A minute later she and Doran were standing outside the big Stave doors.

“I suppose I should find somewhere to stay tonight,” said Doran, “and something to eat. And I should probably check on caramel too.” Lilian chuckled.

“Well that’s handy,” she replied. Doran looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh? How come?”

“Because we’re going to the Fox & Octopus and you can do all of those things there.”

Lilian was delighted to see that the Fox & Octopus had not changed. She did have to duck to walk in through the front door now and there were a couple of new paintings on the walls but apart from that, everything was the same. Right down to which locals were sitting in which seats. A few heads turned to look as she and Doran walked in but everyone smiled when they recognised Polly and Edward’s daughter. Within a few moments she was surrounded by family friends all asking about her travels and for news of the wider world.

“Is it true you were employed at the palace?”

“I heard you visited Zandt, I have a cousin there, did you meet him?”

“Gosh you’re tall!”

“Is that your horse in the stable?”

Every new round of questions was met with a new round of drinks and pretty soon Lilian was regaling the crowd with tales of hidden forest villages, corrupt politicians and secret desert temples. Her mum and dad arrived around dinner time and treated Lilian and Doran to one of Xander’s famous pies. All eyes were on Doran as he took his first bite. A pregnant pause fell across the inn as he chewed followed quickly by a cheer as his face lit up with delight. It was one thing for a tourist from the city to like the dish, but for a world traveller to enjoy it reaffirmed to the locals that Benlunar truly was the greatest town in Alicium. After the sun had set someone brought out their old squeezebox and the whole inn sang old songs. Doran even taught them a new one about a particularly oblivious milkmaid which had the room roaring with laughter at the verses and joining in with every chorus.

Lilian’s cheeks ached with smiling and at one point she laughed so much at one of Liny’s jokes that she genuinely feared she could not breathe. The funniest thing though was seeing a place she’d known her whole life in a brand new light. The townsfolk knew her but they were also meeting her again. Not as a child, but as a friend. She saw some of her old classmates and she barely recognised them. Two years barely changes a grown up, but it transforms a child.

Eventually Liny decided that it was time for everyone to go home and the townsfolk spilled onto the street. Lilian watched a few of the older folk wobble into the darkness before turning downhill and heading home. As she trod the old cobbles she felt her mother’s hand slip into hers. Lilian turned to look into her mother’s smiling eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” Lilian beamed.

“Me too mama.” Then she felt her father’s large arm drape over her shoulders and the Lausanne family stumbled home in simple bliss.

The next morning was a slow one. Lilian was woken up by Fritha licking her face, asking to be let out. Lilian packed away her travel bags, storing any unwanted items under her bed and went to her old wardrobe to see if any of her old clothes would still fit her. Thankfully she was able to find a blue sack dress and some yellow wool stockings that didn’t have too many moth holes. She threw on a knitted hat to protect her head from the early morning chill and she was ready.

They walked down to the river and Lilian saw the season’s first few icicles forming under the rocks near the water. Winter was on its way and Lilian was excited to see it. Winter in the city had been a miserable affair but here in Benlunar it was always a magical time. Fritha seemed happy to be back in her old stomping ground as she picked her way in and around the water. Lilian recalled finding her fur just near here with Kilde. She smiled at the memory which was nice. It had been a long time since she’d remembered Kilde with a smile.

They were nearly at the point where the river entered the forest when Lilian lost sight of the feinhound. She’d been lost in a memory and had gotten distracted. She looked around but couldn’t see any sign of Fritha. This was not particularly unusual for a beast that could blend seamlessly into her surroundings but Lilian was considering turning back and wanted to make sure Fritha was following her. She was milliseconds away from calling out her name when she heard the voices. Her fighter’s instincts engaged and Lilian felt her body instinctively duck low towards the rocks of the river bank. She’d come to trust these reactions, even if she herself was unaware of what was causing them. She listened out to see if she recognised the speakers but she couldn’t place them. No distinctive laughs, no familiar vocal tones. She picked up a rock and held it softly between her thumb and forefinger. With well practised procedure she closed her eyes and brought her breathing under control. The world grew dark and slowly the sounds of birdsong and the rustling of the wind through branches grew louder. The little trickle of the river grew to a rushing roar, too loud to allow her to focus on the distant voices. She let some golden light into the rock in her fingers and waited for it to take on the look and feel of the object, then she let it back into herself slowly and controlled the rush of energy with focus and breath. Ever since she got the tattoo in Zandt Gloaming had been a painful experience but she had practised a lot in her time on the road and it was almost back to feeling as natural as it had been before her trip to the desert city. She had used the tattoo a few times, but never during the day. The presence of the moon made it much easier to control and since it involved breaking through a substantial pain barrier, she found it easier to practise traditional gloaming, saving the tattoo for emergencies.

A moment later she opened her eyes and looked down at her hands to check that it had worked. Sure enough she looked straight through her palms and down onto the stones beneath her feet. The voices had gotten closer by now and so she decided to keep still and low to the ground, hoping to catch sight of whoever it was this far down the river, this early in the morning.

Presently two figures appeared in the middle distance picking their way through the trees, appearing intermittently in the gaps between the tree trunks. They wore dark blue cloaks, hoods down and they were close enough for Lilian to hear.

“It looks like moss but it’s technically a grass. The river is just here so we should find some,” said the shorter of the two to her companion. They both had dark skin and the one who spoke had bright and curious eyes. Her companion on the other hand wore a grim expression, as if she had just stepped in something she would have rather avoided.

“And you needed both of us for this task because…?” the unfinished question wreaked of disdain.

“Oh hush sister, will it kill you to actually enjoy one of the places we visit?” The taller woman narrowed her eyes. Her hair was in tight braids, which made her scowl look even more pronounced.

“I enjoy things in my own way.” Suddenly a large black bird dropped from the forest canopy. It landed a little ways upstream and began pecking at the ground. It drew the attention of the two women.

“Ah! Thank you Spinel! A perfect batch.” The shorter woman, who Lilian could see wore a colourful red and yellow smock under her cloak skipped over to where the bird was pecking and began picking tufts out of the ground. Lilian watched her work and wondered how she’d managed to train the bird so effectively. The bird itself was a beautiful thing, large and dark with patches of deep blue in its feathers that caught the light as it hopped around. It looked like a crow but was bigger than any crow she’d ever seen.

It didn’t take the shorter woman long to gather the materials she needed and although Lilian was growing tired, she wanted to keep watching them while her energy lasted. She knew by now that she recognised them as two of the three women who had been with Safe Fenric at the Stave the day before. If Doran was right and these visitors did have malicious intent then she wanted evidence of it before accusing them of anything. So far picking riverside herbs and befriending birds was not anything she could bring to the town’s attention.

After a few minutes and a bit more bickering, the two women, who were apparently sisters, left the river bank and started heading north. The crow flew up into the trees and Lilian quickly lost sight of it, but she kept the sisters well within her vision. She followed them at a safe distance, never daring to discard her invisible form, and as she had suspected they led her all the way back up the mountain to the flat paddock on the west side of Benlunar. Lilian stuck to the tree line and watched as the two sisters and their bird walked towards their caravan. The carts were just as Brother Thomas had described them. One was painted a bright yellow with blue window frames and little flower designs along the bottom edges. It was covered by a blue roof which was clearly meant to look like a clear sky. The other was all green and had patches of blue which looked like lakes in a field. The horses were nearby, large shaggy looking things with huge tufts of fur around their hoofs. They were picking at some grass but looked up when they noticed the women approaching. The arrival also triggered movement from inside the yellow caravan. Safe Fenric, cloaked in yellow, emerged from the back door and walked the few steps down onto the field. He smiled as they approached and Lilian could see his green eyes sparkle in the sunshine all the way from where she was hiding. With his hood down she could see his face more clearly now. He had thinning brown hair with large patches of grey in it, he was quite tall and stout which made him look as if he might be quite strong. Lilian was reminded of Jacob the blacksmith and how his body had been shaped from a lifetime of lifting and carrying. He smiled when he saw the sisters and greeted them cheerily. Lilian closed her eyes and stretched her hearing out beyond its natural realm. She heard the flapping wings of the large bird as it landed on top of one of the caravans. She heard the footsteps of the sisters and the rustling of cloaks as they embraced Sage Fenric.

“Good morning Hematite, Tourmaline. And hello Spinel. I trust your trip to the river was a success?” Lilian could hear his voice as clearly as if he was next to her. It was a warm and jubilant voice, thick like honey and deep as a well.

“It was most successful Sage Fenric. Successful and beautiful. Even Tourmaline’s mood could not darken the sunshine.” Lilian heard the sage chuckle.

“Good, good. And what’s this? I see you managed to pick up more than just Sphagnum on your journey.”

“What do you mean?” asked the sister called Tourmaline. Sage Fenric’s response made Lilian’s blood run cold.

“You were followed.”

Episode 52

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

At first, when Doran spotted the man stepping out of the shadows and onto the moonlit road, he thought little of it. Another traveller making his own way to his own destination. But as soon as the man turned to face the oncoming cart and raised his hand to stop it, Doran’s heart sank. The old traveller cursed his distracted brain. Had he had his wits about him he would have seen the man up ahead and perhaps had time to change direction. But these were narrow roads and even the stupidest of travellers knows not to take them after dark. Doran felt even stupider than them right now, stupid enough perhaps to even to deserve the robbery that was about to take place.

“Woah there my good fellow.” The man in the road had a deep and smooth voice. He spoke with a smile but kept his eyes hidden under the brim of his travelling hat. He wore a green shirt, dark riding trousers and tall black boots. On his hip was a sword which he was making no effort to hide whatsoever. Doran’s stomach followed his heart in dropping. He ran a quick mental list of all the things that he kept on him that were of value, judging each in turn by what he could afford to lose and what might satisfy this man. Caramel, the donkey, brayed at the interruption to her journey. And perhaps she sensed her master’s nerves.

“I… I want no trouble,” said Doran.

“Then you shall have none,” said the man, his smile never fading, “so long as you do as we say and stay quite calm then this night shall remain trouble free.” At that he gestured with both arms to Doran’s flanks. Three more men were emerging from the tree line, dressed in similarly dark colours and each carrying weapons. Two were on his right, and one on his left. Doran muttered a curse under his breath.

“I suppose it’s coin you’ll be wanting,” said Doran, having given up hope of escape. There was no way Caramel could outrun the group. He directed the comment to the leader, who smiled again.

“You catch on quick, good sir. If you would be so kind as to direct my colleagues to your more valuable wears then they can relieve you of them and we can be on our way.” Doran tsked and pointed to the back of his cart.

“There’s a few pewter goblets and a silver plate there. The rest is only valuable to me.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” One of the other men barked the retort, causing Doran to jump a bit. While they were rummaging through his life’s belongings Doran turned back to their leader.

“I’ve encountered many thieves in my time on the road, but few quite as eloquent as yourself. You’d do better making a living as a poet.” The man bowed low in genuine thanks.

“You flatter me, traveller. I’ll admit to have considered a career on the stage at one point. But this is just as lucrative and far less embarrassing than those dreadful tights.” To his surprise Doran found himself laughing.

“Well, here’s one paying customer you’ve entertained. Although I would have preferred to buy a ticket.”

“Rest easy traveller,” the highwayman replied, “imagine you’ve bought your ticket and the show is bad. If you close your eyes this will feel much the same.” Doran shook his head. This man’s brazen cheek had to be admired, even if he was a dastardly thief.

Just then a slight breeze rustled through the trees and pushed the fallen leaves across the dusty road. A shiver shook Doran’s spine. Autumn was in full fall and he’d taken to wearing his large travelling cloak at night. The whispering wind was the only other sound that could be heard above the shuffling and clanging of the thieves behind him. Doran kept an eye on them, lest they pull a dagger and steal his life on top of his wears.

“Just a few plates eh?” one of them, a short, stocky man with a beard, said gruffly, “what do you call this then?” He held a small wooden lock box up and over his head to show his boss. The verbose bandit craned his neck to see.

“Bring it here,” he said in that clear and confident tone of voice. Doran knew that protesting would only increase their interest in the thing. A part of him had hoped they’d overlook it, but that hope was dashed now. Doran’s mind played out a quick mental story of the coming weeks. Back to begging, back to sleeping in the cart, back to sharing his meals with Caramel, back to basics. His eyes followed the man holding his lockbox like they were watching an executioner carry an axe to the block.

When the fellow was part way between the cart and the gang leader the wind picked up again. As the gust that moved the leaves on the road reached him, he appeared to trip and stumble. His boss clicked his tongue as he watched him try to catch his balance.

“Well you won’t be making the dance troop this season, that’s for sure. What’s the matter with you man? Are you drunk?”

The man carrying the lockbox looked about him. His face was pale and his eyes were wide. All his bravado was lost, carried off with that last gust of wind. “I… thought I felt…”

“I… I… I thought, fumbling your words as well as your feet now are we? Bring the box here.”

Doran’s eyes narrowed as he watched the bearded man. He glanced over his shoulder twice before he was close enough to hand the box over to the gang leader. At that moment, a cloud passed in front of the moon temporarily plunging the scene into darkness. By the time he could see again the box was on the floor.

“Bumbling buffoon…” the gang leader muttered under his breath. By now the rest of the group had gathered around Doran’s cart to watch the interaction. The bearded man was mumbling some excuse and the gang leader was walking over to the box which had clattered to the floor some feet away. As he bent down to retrieve it Doran’s breath caught in his chest. There was no wind, he was sure of it, but somehow, the box jumped away from the leader’s fingers as if, well, as if it had been kicked. The whole group froze. The leader stood up in shock, as if the box had bitten him. His eyes were more curious than scared. He looked over his shoulder at Doran.

“A neat little trick, traveller. I’m sure the more superstitious thief would have left you alone by now is that right?” Doran didn’t even hear the question. He was transfixed by what he saw. One of the other robbers seemed to have noticed it too as he raised a trembling finger and pointed at his boss’s hip. There, slowly, his sword was working its way out of its scabbard seemingly, on its own. The metal reflected the silver light of the moon and illuminated the leader’s shocked expression. The nerves of the man on Doran’s right suddenly broke and he ran yelping into the treeline. The leader suddenly came to his senses and reached for the sword's handle, at which point the sword sped up and remained floating in mid air, its point aimed directly at its owner’s throat.

Not knowing what else to do, the gang leader put his hands up in surrender.

“Very good old man, you can stop with the theatrics now.” Doran detected the crack of nervousness in his voice.

“I’m doing nothing Sir…” Doran replied. A smile crept across his face as he watched this dangerous ruffian come to terms with the situation.

Then, as the moon shifted into a new position in the sky, a hand became visible gripping the sword handle loosely. The small crowd watched as a wrist, then an arm and even a shoulder slipped into view. In a matter of seconds a figure was there, her red hair bathed in moonlight. A young woman standing defiantly between the thief and his prize.

“Leave this man alone,” her bright blue eyes dazzled daggers at the thief. Doran could not believe it, this spirit or forest nymph must have heard his prayers and come to his aid. The highwayman tried to hide his surprise.

“And may I ask on whose authority this order is being given?”

“On the authority of the girl with a sword to your neck.” The highwayman smiled.

“So one girl against four… well, three grown men. What if we simply fight back and overpower you? Those boots look like they might be worth something.” Doran was once again in shock at this man’s brazen confidence. The young girl narrowed her eyes,

“Make one move that isn’t turning around and running away, and I’ll skewer you like a cooked apple.” The highwayman chuckled.

“Young lady, in my experience, those who don’t kill quickly don’t intend to kill at all.” The red haired heroin raised an eyebrow at this.

“Who said anything about killing?” at that she flicked the end of the sword upwards and darted it forwards with blink speed. The tip was driven up into the highwayman’s tri-cornered hat and came out from the top where it was held momentarily glinting in the moonlight. The highwayman was visibly sweating now, and Doran could see a trickle of blood mixing with the sweat. The sword had opened a cut on his forehead. Before he could do anything else, the girl hoisted the hat off his head and used the sword to place it on her own.

“You little tramp…” the highwayman was losing his cool now. Backing away he glanced over to his remaining comrades, “Don’t just stand there gawking, she’s just a girl, get her and get me that box.” The two men, emboldened by their captain’s plight, rushed over from the cart. The man with the beard pulled a cutlass from his belt, the other brandished a nasty looking club. The young lady with the red hair turned her attention to both of them and smiled.

The cutlass came in first, whipping through the gloom like a serpent’s venomous fangs. Whoever these men were, they were trained fighters, ex-soldiers perhaps, thought Doran. The girl was not phased though, she brought the sword up to riposte the strike before aiming a well timed kick at the man with the club. Her heel connected with his stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs with a sickening oof. He almost dropped the club but managed to collect himself quickly enough to unleash a flurry of fury powered strikes. The girl ducked, dodged and parried them deftly making sure the wooden weapon hit only air. Whenever a blow came close she would use her free hand to knock her attacker’s fist and send his weapon hurtling to the side of her. She used her newly acquired sword to deal with the cutlass. She moved it through the air like she was wielding a ribbon. Doran could barely keep his eyes focused on it. After dancing with the two men for just thirty seconds or so, she kicked her foot out again. This time it connected with the cutlass man’s knee, knocking it backwards and sending him straight to the floor. Then she waited for the club to come forward for a final attack before guiding it downward with her sword, curling her free hand around the man’s wrist and then popping the club out of his grip with the butt of her sword. She then threw her weight backwards and sent the man hurtling past her towards the grassy bank where he promptly got stuck in a bush.

With two of the three ruffians now writhing on the floor, the warrior sprite turned her attention back to their leader. She raised his own weapon up at him once again. The highwayman glared at her and shook his head. To Doran’s surprise, a smile crept across his lips.

“It seems as though I need to hire better help. My lady, you have bested us. I must say that I’m impressed. Now if I might get my hat and sword back then I promise to obey your previous order and leave this man, and yourself, alone.” The young woman seemed satisfied by his words.

“You can have the hat, but I’m keeping the sword.” The highwayman bowed.

“I expected as much. Still, you can’t blame a chap for trying.” As he stepped forward to take the hat with his right hand, Doran noticed his left hand reaching back and gripping something in his belt line. Before he could shout a warning though the highwayman’s left hand was out, clutching something silver and sharp. Doran breathed in and tried to form a warning with his words, but none came. His thoughts had stopped just as the dagger had done. On its way to the young woman’s throat the knife was trapped in middair. The highwayman looked at it with astonishment and started to grapple with the fixed point, like he was trying to pry his wrist free from an invisible hand.

And then Doran saw it. Not a hand. But a set of powerful jaws. A beast, big as a deer was crouched beside the man, freezing his arm in place with its teeth and becoming slowly visible just as the girl had done before. The highwayman was not prepared for that. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and a primal fear overcame him. He dropped the dagger and yelped, pulling his arm backwards with all his might. The creature let go of him at that moment and he stumbled backwards, tripping on his own ankles as he desperately tried to put distance between his body and the animal’s teeth.

Once the other men had spotted the beast, there was no stopping them. All three of them picked themselves up and ran straight for the treeline, following the path of their fourth comrade who seemed to have had the right of it from the start. Had Doran not been quite sure that this girl was on his side he might have joined them. He looked back at her and saw her chuckle a little.

“I guess I get to keep the hat too!” She spoke to the animal whom she then knelt beside and showered with thanks and attention. When she finished she turned her attention to Doran who was still sitting on top of his cart, dumbfounded. She smiled at him and went to collect his lock box.

“There you are Sir,” she said, grinning. As Doran took the box off her he noted that she seemed genuinely pleased to be helping him.

“Uh tha… thank you, young lady.”

“You’re most welcome, good Sir.” She looked back along the tree banked road, into the dark distance where the road twisted out of view. Her eyes narrowed.

“May I ask where you’re heading?” Doran was still shaking himself out of the shock of the past few minutes, but he found his words after a brief pause.

“Oh nowhere in particular. I travel the road in front of me. In truth I had planned on resting somewhere two days past but I… I could not.”

“I grew up in these mountains,” she replied, “so I’d be happy to travel with you until the next town.”

“Much obliged my lady. If we encounter more ruffians though I’m afraid I won’t be much help.” She laughed at this.

“It’s always safer to travel in groups, and you can leave any ruffians to Fritha and me.” She took the empty space on the cart bench beside Doran, “my horse is just up ahead, we could hitch the cart to him, give your donkey a rest.” Doran smiled,

“My lady, you are too kind. First you save my life, now you save the life of my donkey. I’m not sure which of us will be more grateful. I know these hills a little but I can’t remember a town nearby, where exactly are we going?”

The little girl patted a cloud of dust off her thick travelling trousers, Doran watched the dust get caught in a moonbeam that had wound its way through the forest canopy. The invisible girl smiled as she turned her attention back to the road ahead.

“There’s no need to keep calling me ‘my lady’, I’m no highborn heiress. My name is Lilian Lausanne and we’re going to Benlunar.”

As they rounded the last corner and the town gates came into view, Lilian was feeling many things. She was feeling excited to see her home again, she was feeling happy at the prospect of reuniting with her parents and for some reason she was feeling nervous. If her new friend Doran had noticed this trepidation, he said nothing about it. Both travellers were tired having journeyed up the rest of the mountain throughout the night. The sun was rising beyond the valley and as they passed through the town gates its warm rays touched Benlunar like a golden caress. The Stave Church came quickly into view, its brown walls turned burned sugar in the light. The houses around the town square soaked up the sun’s rays happily, reflecting the golden light back onto the flagstones. Lilian’s breath turned to spouts of fog in the morning freshness. The cart rolled past bare branch trees and Lilian listened to the crunch of dry leaves under hoof and wheel.

“That’s the inn,” she pointed a little ways downhill from the town square towards The Fox and Octopus, “you can find lodging and a stable there. In fact, I might come with you now and leave Afaran there.” She gestured to her large, black horse who was still pulling the cart. Doran turned the reigns to guide the beast downhill.

“Your home is beautiful Lilian. I didn’t even know they built towns this high up.” Lilian chuckled as she hopped down from the cart.

“You should stay a while. We get visitors in the Spring and Summer but it gets pretty quiet this time of year.” Doran considered the possibility. Looking around he saw flower pots on window sills and decorative family crests painted above the doorways of the wooden houses. He’d certainly stayed in worse places.

“I might just do that…”

Once they’d stabled the animals and parked the cart they said their goodbyes.

“I hope to see you soon Lilian, thank you again for helping me on the road.”

“A Pleasure!” replied Lilian, “Thank you for the stories and the company. I’ll see you around town Doran, find me if you decide to leave early.” And with a flash of white teeth and a whirl of red hair Lilian was off down the road followed closely by her faithful feinhound. Doran watched her go for a few seconds. He laughed to himself a little. Strange how one so gifted and magical made him feel like he was the special one.

The butterflies in Lilian’s stomach became more agitated with every step towards her home. Could she even call it her home anymore? Would her parents be happy to see her? Would her old room still look the same? She felt a wet nose prodding at her palm. She looked down.

“You’re right, I’m being silly.” Fritha let out a low jangling sound and ran a few steps ahead as if trying to hurry Lilian along. Lilian giggled and chased after her and in just a few distracted seconds, she was standing in front of her house.

It looked like something out of a storybook. She could hear the river in the middle distance and the light rustling of leaves as the breeze passed through the canopy. Sunlight dappled the vine covered walls and the bright blue door looked so warm and welcoming, it might as well have been wide open. Lilian never did like going through the front and she had not changed so much as to alter the habits of a lifetime. She went round the back to check to see if the kitchen door was open. A slight push found that it was and so Lilian walked in.

She looked up to see her parents, her mother in her nightgown and her father in a shirt and trousers. They were sitting at the table enjoying some breakfast but that was quickly abandoned. They looked shocked at first, then they smiled, then they laughed and finally they cried. And Lilian joined them in all these emotions. Laughing and crying as they hugged her so tightly that she could barely breathe. Her Mother said very little apart from whispering the words “it worked” when she first laid eyes on Lilian. Her Father was full of questions. How was her journey? Where had she come from? What road did she take? Was she well? Was she hurt? He asked them so fast that Lilian barely had time to answer one before the next was upon her. Tea was hastily made, bread quickly buttered. Fritha was fussed over terribly and given the biggest breakfast she’d seen in weeks, which she promptly gobbled up in a matter of seconds.

They caught up for most of the morning. Lilian told them all about her adventures on the road, her time in the capital and her journey to Zandt omitting certain details around the times where she’d been in mortal peril. Her parents worried enough. She also neglected to tell them about her advances in Gloaming, it would have taken too much time to explain and the last thing she wanted was her mother telling all her friends that her daughter could turn invisible. That was an awkward evening at The Fox And Octopus she would rather avoid.

Finally, after five hours of talking, nine cups of tea, some salted pork and beetroot salad, many more hugs and a few more tears everyone had finally caught up.

“So how long will you be staying in Benlunar?” asked her father, setting down his teacup with a satisfying clink.

“Oh Edward,” protested her mother, “she’s back for good now, isn’t that right Roux?” Lilian couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. In this instance she told the truth,

“I’m not really sure. Certainly I want to stay for the foreseeable future. But after that…” she trailed off, not wanting to upset her parents prematurely. Lilian stood up to go and put her plate by the wash basin in a not-so-subtle attempt at avoiding the question.

“I’m still amazed at how tall you are,” said her mother standing up to measure her shoulder to Lilian’s, “when you left you barely came up to my elbow!” she turned to show her husband the difference in height and as she did, her eyes fell upon the weight driven clock on the wall. “By the stories! Look at the time.” Both Lilian and her father looked at the clock, but the time shown didn’t mean much to Lilian. Her father on the other hand slumped his shoulders and gave his wife a pitiable look.

“Darling, Lilian just got back, do we really want to…” his wife interrupted him.

“Lilian’s return is what I asked for and here she is, I’m not going to deny Sage Fenric my presence after that. Lilian,” she turned excitedly to her daughter, “you should come too.” Lilian looked at her parents, confused.

“Go where?”

“To the Stave, to meet the visitors.”

And so the Lausanne’s left the comfort of the kitchen to walk back into town. Lilian had no idea who these visitors were, but she was glad for the excuse to go back into Benlunar and see a few familiar faces. They bumped into Liny and Xander who were also heading to the Stave, they saw Stine Vichas, a few of Lilian’s old classmates as well as Madam Streng the school mistress. After only a few moments of meeting everyone it became clear that they were all headed in the same direction. It seemed as though half the town were heading to the Stave and not in their usual way like they might do to go to weekly service. There was a buzz in the air, an excited feeling that Lilian found contagious. Everyone spoke of these ‘visitors’ like they were royalty. In truth, Lilian was glad that the attention was off of her. By joining the growing throng all headed to the Stave, she slotted right back into Benlunar life. It was like she’d never even left.

Once inside Lilian took her seat beside her parents. She glanced over at Brother Thomas who was sitting on a small stool beside one of the stalls. His face was a strange mix of emotions, Lilian thought he looked worried or even scared, but as soon as he saw her his face lit up in delight. He mouthed a few words of promise to speak to her after the service and Lilian nodded fervently. As everyone finally found their seats she expected him to stand and take the centre spot. But he remained seated, that look of concern falling back over his face.

Silence descended over the congregation. Lilian felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach, it was like she was waiting for a play or circus to begin. The crowd were sharing excited smiles and pinching each other’s knees like they were lucky to be there. In a moment, three women entered the main hall from one of the back rooms. They each wore dark cloaks with hoods pulled low over the tops of their faces. Lilian thought their cloaks to be black like Mr Attorcop’s but when they passed the candles she saw how they shimmered a deep blue. Even though most of their faces were hidden Lilian could tell these women were very beautiful. They reminded her of her friend Serena, only they had darker skin.

They took their places in the centre of the hall, facing inwards from the three points of a triangle. Their movements and attire felt oddly ceremonial, like they were about to perform some sort of ritual or wedding. Then a flutter of whispers rippled through the crowd. Lilian followed the gazes of her fellow townsfolk towards the main entrance. A man was walking there, his face similarly hidden by a hood. But his cloak was not dark. It was a muted and beautiful shade of yellow. Like the colour of a sunflower or the middle of a daisy that had been dried in the sun. His cloak dragged a little along the floor behind him, but Lilian did not see any signs of wear on it. He walked slowly, but with purpose. When he reached the centre of the hall he removed his hood revealing a smiling face; fair skinned, green eyed and kind. He looked at everyone in the hall and really seemed to see each one of them. The way he moved, so slow and mesmeric, captivated Lilian as much as the rest of the town. Finally, the service or meeting began. In a crisp and clear voice, the mysterious Sage Fenric said,

“My friends, welcome. Today I would like to begin with a question. Do you know of the garden?”

S4 Bonus Episode

Most people will never have an adventure

At the mere sight of trouble their arms go up in surrender

Some just want to live quiet lives

And who can blame them in these troubling times

Some bite off more than they can chew

And in pursuit of a meal end up in a stew

But some know adventure like a close friend

And they’ve made up their minds, to never see them again

The wheels of the old cart rumbled and crunched their way along the dry, dirt road. It had been seven days since rain, as told by the patches of yellowing grass whispering in the wind on the roadside. Caramel, the donkey, would occasionally nibble at these clumps, swallowing one or two mouthfuls before Doran could pull her away. They were both thirsty, and Doran knew that the dry grass would only upset her stomach in the long run. It had been a foolish decision to travel during the heat of the day, but these were dangerous roads and Doran would always choose thirst over thieves. Besides, he had a little water left in his skin and if he was not mistaken, this particular road led down to a lake. There was a town there. More of a hamlet really. He’d been once before, what was it? Eight? No. Eleven years ago now. Doran shook his head and chuckled to himself. She was a cheeky thief; the road. Stealing time out from under him in the most pleasant and charming of ways.

He looked over his shoulder quickly out of habit to check on his belongings. The dust sheet covered most of them and he worried that his bread might spoil in the heat. Caramel brayed suddenly as the hill began to incline.

“Come now stop with your complaining. This one’s no bigger than the last. Just a few more and you’ll have a nice drink and some oats, I promise. There might even be an apple waiting for you if you’re good.” His words seemed to work and Caramel kept on, trotting calmly forwards up and over this newest peak.

Thankfully, once they reached the crest, the lake came into view. Doran thanked his memory and smiled at the scene. The sun sparkled on the surface of the lake in a million dancing lights. A breeze blew through the grass and Doran’s eyes were drawn up, across the lake to the mountains beyond. Their peaks still capped with defiant snow, they stood taller than any building, loftier than any dream. Even Caramel seemed to pause in awe at their beauty, although Doran suspected it was more likely due to wanting a rest after climbing the little hill. He’d seen these mountains before of course, but each time he came back to this part of the world, they astonished him all over again, like a work of fine art hanging in a room that one just can’t seem to get tired of staring at. The hamlet was there too, down at the base of the hill. Doran spied the little wooden rooftops and the gleaming white dome of the church. Although his memory had led him here sure enough, it couldn’t quite bring itself to recall the name of this place. Fanning? Fontly? He couldn’t be sure. He took the reins up and with a flick of his wrists Caramel complained and started walking again, clip clopping her way down the winding road. It was days like this that reminded Doran of all the sweetness that travelling life could bring. The road, a lake, the mountains and the sun, the sun, the sun.

You can never be sure how a town will greet a stranger. Some are told to believe that strangers are enemies, coming to steal your livelihoods and cart them off back to where they came from. Their citizens look at strangers with fear and mistrust in their eyes, seeing every bit of difference as evidence of some invented crime. Other towns, the nicer ones, see strangers and new friends. They welcome them into their homes and around their hearths, pressing them for stories in exchange for cakes and local delicacies. Doran seemed to recall that this place fell into the latter category and so he was sure to wear his broadest smile as Caramel trundled in the main thoroughfare. It was not a big place, although it had had a few more buildings added to the edges since the last time he was here. As the cart wheels hit the paving stones and their chorus changed from crunching stones to creaking wood Doran looked up and around expectantly. The buildings here were little more than shacks, although most were painted quite beautifully in pastel colours of lilac and light blues. Each had a little porch to raise it off the ground for when Autumnal floods filled the streets and folk would go about on little boats. It smelled of fish. Predictable for a fishing village, but thankfully it was not that kind of rotting fish you smelled in big city markets. This fish was fresh and alive and wriggling only recently. Doran glanced into windows and down little alleyways. He had expected to see a few people at least but right now there didn’t seem to be anyone about.

Odd, he thought. Perhaps they were all at Church or out on the lake.

He guided the cart down ever narrowing streets until he found the inn that he remembered. It was the Hamlet’s only boarding house and it also doubled as the legal offices, the meeting house and the guard station. If anyone was going to be anywhere it would be here, at the Golden Cat. Doran tied up Caramel, brushed, fed and watered her and then, after still not seeing any signs of activity, entered the inn.

It was dim inside, a single streak of sunlight illuminating the flecks of dust in the air. There were chairs tucked neatly into tables, cups cleaned and put away on shelves. Doran’s footsteps thudded on the floorboards, they sounded rude, like they were disturbing some meditative silence. He walked slowly around the room, more confused than ever. There were no signs of a struggle, no smashed glasses or broken tables. It looked as though everything had just been cleaned and readied for the next day of business, but that day had never come. He approached the small stage at the back of the room. A lute was propped up against the wall there, ready and waiting to be played. Doran scratched his head. Surely someone will be back any minute? The door was not locked after all and judging by the lack of dust on the surfaces the place had not been left empty long. After a quick tour of the upstairs where he saw perfectly made beds, a clean washroom and several tidy closets he went back outside.

As he stepped back into the sun he was considering checking the food stores in the kitchen, but thought he’d better wait just a while longer, in case everyone got back within the hour. He glanced down the road towards the church and was about to go and look inside when, for the first time since arriving, he saw movement. His breath caught in his throat. Had he imagined it? No, something had been over by that yellow house, it had seen him and then ducked away quickly. Doran took a tentative step down onto street level.

“Hello there?” he called out. Fear caused his voice to crack a little. This whole situation was too strange. Surely there was some kind of logical explanation. Perhaps whoever, or whatever, had moved just now was the key to unlocking this local mystery. Doran took a few steps forward and considered calling out again. Caramel suddenly sneezed, causing Doran to nearly jump out of his skin. He chuckled at his own fright. “Come now Mikhail, jumping at sneezes. You old fool. Be sure it's nothing. ‘Lo there? I saw you just now. Could ye come out? I swear I mean no harm. Just an old traveller looking for a day or two’s rest.” He took another few steps towards the yellow house, more confident now than before.

As he peered into the gloom of the alley, although alley was a generous term for what was just a gap between two houses, he saw movement again. There was something small there, shuffling around in the gloom. At first Doran thought it might be a cat and was about to turn and walk away when he saw its dirt stained face and tousled hair.

“Ooh, good morning child. Ye can come out from there, I promise I wish ye no hurt.” The urchin’s face did not move, it just stared at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. Suddenly, Doran had a flash of inspiration. He walked back to his cart and rummaged around under the dust sheet. “I swear it was here the other… ah! Here we go.” He turned back to the alley and held up the toy he’d gone to fetch. It was a doll, made from bits of cloth. Its round, button-eyed face smiled brightly in the light. Doran shook it a little, making its hair and arms dance gleefully. The child’s expression barely changed but upon seeing the doll it took a few steps forward. As it stepped into the street, Doran had trouble telling if it was a girl or a boy. Its hair was matted and dirty, it wore a little red shirt and grey trousers, done up with a button. It wore no shoes or socks but seemed confident in its ability to walk. Doran guessed it was about six years old.

“Here, little one. Take it. I’ve no need for him.” The child stepped tentatively forward and held out its arms to take the doll. It smiled up at Doran and his heart melted just a little.

“It’s not a him,” the child spoke quickly as it examined the intricate pattern of leaves and flowers on the doll’s body, “it’s a little girl.”

“Why, so it is,” replied Doran, “Silly me. A little girl. Just like you eh?” The child smiled and nodded. “And tell me, what are these little girl’s names?”

“My name is Elski, I don’t know her name though.” The girl held up the doll. Doran had many questions but he knew that he would need to gain this little one’s trust before bombarding her with all of them. He crouched down beside her and smiled.

“Well you know, I’m very good at coming up with names, perhaps we can come up with one together, hm?” the girl nodded. “My name is Mikhail Doran, everyone just calls me Doran and over there is Caramel.” The girl’s head whipped round on a swivel.

“A donkey!” Doran laughed.

“Yes! And as stubborn as they come. Would you like to meet her?” They went over to where Caramel was tied up and the little girl giggled as she held her hand out for the old donkey to sniff.

“Here!” said Doran, “I might have something you can give her.” He reached into a small sack in the cart and found a bit of old carrot. “There you go,” he said, handing it to Elski, “give her that and she’ll love you forever.” The girl clutched the doll tightly to her chest and took the lump of carrot. She turned slowly to the donkey and paused, staring at the vegetable in her hand. “Go on,” Doran urged her, seeing that she was nervous, “She doesn’t bite.” Elski stepped forward but still didn’t hold out her hand. Instead, she waited, and then turned back to Doran.

“Can I have some?” The question hit Doran like a pack of wild horses. Of course she was starving. How had he not even considered it? He berated himself and then responded.

“Ooh, you don’t want that. I’ve got something much nicer in here for you. Give that to Caramel and you can have some lunch with me alright?” Elski’s face lit up and she practically ran up to Caramel, who, had it not been for the carrot, might have startled at her pace.

Half an hour later, with some bread, cheese, dried spiced meats and an apple in their bellies, the two unlikely friends were sitting in silence on the front step of The Golden Cat. Elski’s eyes were beginning to dip, tired from the day’s heat and a full stomach. Doran only had a few minutes before she would be fast asleep.

“Elski?” he ventured. The little girl looked up at him, bringing her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun behind Doran’s head. “Might you be able to tell me where everybody has gone?” Elski looked back down at the ground. Doran had feared this reaction, clearly some tragedy had happened and she was getting upset at the memory. Doran readied his most comforting words when she replied.

“They’re trying to go to The Garden.” Doran faltered.

“The Garden?” He repeated, unsure of what she meant. After Elski didn’t elaborate, he followed up with, “and how are they doing that?”

“They’re praying.”

“Ah!” Doran sighed in understanding. He glanced back down the road at the church. A wave of relief washed over him. Thank the stories he thought to himself. They’re all at church service. Admittedly, it was a rather long service, he’d been in town for the better part of an hour, but at least they were alive. “That’s good. And everyone is there eh? What time do you think they’ll be finished?” Elski waited a moment before replying.

“It’s not good. I hate praying.” Doran smiled. He was remembering his own childhood church visits, he would get bored as well and often got into trouble after playing pew games with the other children.

“Ooh it’s not so bad. Sometimes it's nice to ask for things, or wish a friend well. You’re saying you have nothing that you would pray for?” Elski scrunched up her face in thought.

“I would pray for everyone to stop praying.” Doran chuckled, then he slapped his knees and stood up. He groaned as he pushed himself up and off the step. His back dealt badly with long cart rides these days.

“Well I shall see if I cannot be the one to answer your prayers Elski. Hold here and look after Caramel won’t ye?” He smiled at the child and set off towards the church.

As he walked along the dry stones he began to have doubts about interrupting a religious service. Each community handled religious practices in their own particular interpretation. Perhaps this town valued silence and meditation and having a stranger interrupt that time would grant him no friends. Doran shook these doubts out of his head. He’d given the community plenty of time, any more and he would have to sign papers to become Elski’s legal guardian. Besides, Caramel needed a stable and he needed a rest and some clean water.

Doran walked up to the church double doors, old sturdy structures made from local pine, and listened out for signs of activity. He was hoping to interrupt during a natural break in the service but could hear nothing from inside. Shrugging, he placed both dust stained hands on the doors and pushed.

A large hall opened up in front of him. Its domed ceiling stretched two houses high. The architecture told him this was an imperial church, possibly one of the first to be built during the reformation considering its age and proximity to the capitol. Stone cut vines guided the eye down to cleverly crafted parapets made from wood but built in seamlessly to the stonework. The pews were made from the same wood and were laid out in neat rows. Doran thought there must be at least a hundred, maybe more considering the distance to the altar.

As he had suspected, every seat was occupied. Elski might have fit in somewhere, but it would have been a tight squeeze. Despite the sound of the door opening, which reverberated off the stone walls, no one looked round to greet him. Doran put on his most charming smile and was ready to excuse himself and bow and beg forgiveness for the interruption, but no one even glanced in his direction. They all had their heads down, their eyes closed and their hands clasped together in prayer. Everyone’s fingers were interlocked to make one tight fist. Doran saw a few people gripping their hands so hard that their knuckles were white from the strain. There was a low whisper humming throughout the hall. Everyone was muttering some phrase or personal prayer. Doran couldn’t catch any specific words.

The strangest thing was, that there didn’t seem to be anyone leading the service. The altar had the traditional branch and veil but no one stood in front of it as was usual in imperial church services. Perhaps this was one of the idiosyncrasies of this particular town. Self governed and self guided, Doran had heard of something similar years ago.

He decided to approach a young woman who was seated to his left. Tiptoeing carefully so as to not disturb the rest of the congregation, Doran approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. She wore a blue dress, the hem of which was stained brown with dust. Her shawl looked old and was peppered with grey green blotches. Her hair was tied up in a bun but several strands had broken free as if trying to escape the heat of the mass. When Doran touched her she jerked with shock as if awakening from a deep sleep.

“So sorry Madam, I didn’t mean to scare or disturb you,” Doran whispered. When she turned her face to look up at him, Doran had to suppress his reaction. Her eyes were lined with dark circles and looked as though they were sinking into her head. Her lips were pale and when she spoke, Doran caught sight of yellowing teeth and bright red gums. Her hands shook and when she spoke her voice came out as a thin rasp.

“What? Who are you? Where is…?” She seemed visibly confused to Doran and so he tried to comfort her.

“I’m a traveller mam, a friend to your town. I don’t mean to interrupt but I would like to enquire about fresh water or a bed for the night? Who might I speak to?” As he waited for an answer the woman seemed to notice her hands for the first time.

“Curses…”

“Excuse me, mam?” Doran was confused.

“My prayers, I must… I must go back to my prayers. I…” Doran felt a pang of guilt as he watched tears well up in the corner of her eyes. “If I stop then I might not be considered. I swear I didn’t mean to, I was interrupted. Please, hear me, hear my devotion, I swear I did not mean to falter in my faith.” By now she had gone back to clasping her hands tightly and closing her eyes, forcing the tears gathered there to fall onto her whitening knuckles. Doran stepped back in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I did not mean to falter, I swear…” her voice was becoming more and more panicked. Doran considered touching her shoulder again to try and console her, surely no deity would condemn a follower for helping a man in need? He wanted to explain this to her but his attention was drawn to the front of the room. A man was standing up there and pointing at him.

“You there!” he exclaimed, “what is your business?” Several of the other worshippers looked up at the interruption, but most kept their heads bowed and their mouths unceasing. Doran raised his hands in front of him in what he hoped to be a calming gesture.

“My apologies, sir. I mean no disrespect. I’ve come from away, a traveller. I seek fresh water and a place to stay and then I’ll be on my way. I’d gladly work or pay for the kindness.” Doran held his breath, hoping his words might assuage the man’s obvious irritation, but they did no good. The man, who was similarly dressed in worn looking clothes and had that same sallow look about him as the woman he’d just spoken to, continued to glower at him with real hatred in his eyes.

“An outsider,” he said.

“Aye sir,” Doran confirmed, “but a kind one, if perhaps a little dirty...” Before he could finish the full thought, the man interrupted him.

“We heed no apostates here. You are among the pious, sir.” Doran was thrown further into confusion.

“Apos… I’m sorry sir, I don’t know the word. But I assure you that I practise my own faith and have the fullest respect for all others, lest they wish me harm.” He had intended this last phrase to be a joke, an off-the-cuff quip meant to lighten the mood. But the man’s face became even more intense, Doran had not thought that possible.

“Apostate, sir. A non-believer.”

“A heretic,” another woman, a few feet away from him, stood up and pointed at Doran. Suddenly, more people began to stand and shout.

“A stranger!”

“Recusant!”

“Dissenter!”

“Recreant!” Doran started to back away. The anger on their expressions he could understand, but some of them had a strange and gleeful look on their thin and wasted faces. It scared him. It was the look of hungry dogs when they finally found food. They smiled with hatred and Doran knew then that nothing he could say would sway them. It was time to leave.

He turned and made for the door. Behind him he heard the scraping of wood on stone and knew that folk were standing up. Doran tumbled out of the church and into the daylight. Not quite sprinting, but certainly not walking he made his way to his cart and Caramel.

With shaking hands he tied the tired donkey back to the cart, occasionally glancing back towards the church as he worked. A few people had stepped out and were glancing up and down the street. From this distance the wear on their clothes was even more pronounced. It looked as though they had not left the church in quite some time, some were even having trouble holding their own weight as they stumbled on cramped up legs.

The cart was tacked and ready to go in record time. Doran didn’t know if the townsfolk meant him any physical harm, but he’d decided back in the church not to hang around and find out. He’d travelled enough in his day to know when he was not wanted and he’d left towns before for less than this.

His joints cried out for rest as he clambered back onto the seat. Whipping the reins he ignored Caramel’s protests and guided the donkey down the road towards the other end of town, directly opposite the way he had entered. He was sure the people would not pursue him once he reached the main highway, now it was just a question of outrunning them.

The cart wheels creaked and groaned as if they were also objecting to the sudden departure, but Doran ignored them too, his mind was made up. He risked a glance back over his shoulder as he navigated his way round the houses. A few people were walking sternly towards him, shouting things that he could not quite make out. Thankfully the houses began to thin before they got too close. Doran thanked his star at the sight of the wider road and whipped the reins again to make sure Caramel was going as fast as she could. He felt bad for the poor beast, and made a mental note to treat her to a bushel of apples during their next stop.

Looking back on the situation later, Doran would wonder how it was that not one of the villagers had caught up to him. Caramel wasn’t exactly the world’s fastest steed. It would be with a twinge of sadness that he would realise that the people of the small fishing hamlet had been too exhausted, too hungry or too scared of leaving the comfort of their treasured church to catch him.

As his cart rejoined the dusty road he turned back once more to check that he was safe. He saw no angry mob, and for that he was thankful, but what he did see was something that would stay with him for the rest of his days. A lone child, clutching a doll made from scraps of material tightly to her chest. Her eyes filled at first with pleading, then sadness and finally hatred.

Episode 51

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian Lausanne was standing in the light of the moon shining bright and blue through stained glass. She was at the top of the palace in Freedos, in a large, empty space with several dark doors leading off it. By her side was Fritha, the feinhound in shimmering blue and at her feet, lying prone on his back was a man called Nicholas Telson. This man was the founder of the mysterious group called The Guiding Hand. They were racketeers, war mongers and if they weren’t power hungry, they were power mad. But now that Lilian had cut off the stinger, the scorpion would hopefully be less dangerous. She had never been one to gloat and so she said nothing. She watched him struggle against dark ropes and when that did no good, she saw his eyes cycle through fear, anger, resentment and finally acceptance.

Lilian heard a sound from the staircase which she had used to reach this place. She looked up to see Mr Attorcop, cloak billowing in haste, rushing up the stairs and into the moonlight. The sight of him made her feel safe and so she relaxed. The sense of power and connection with the darkness around her gave way and she could feel herself going back to normal. She looked down at her forearm and watched the moon and the mountain fade away. It gave her comfort knowing that they were there and that they could come back if she needed them.

Mr Attorcop rushed towards her, he was followed by William who was clutching a cut on his left arm, and a small group of men and women who seemed to all be holding improvised weapons. Lilian saw sickles, rakes and even a table leg.

“Lilian, are you alright?” said Mr Attorcop, glancing down at Telson, “restrain him,” he pointed at two men and they rushed over to Telson and quickly bound his hands behind his back with thick rope.

“I’m fine. What about you?” Mr Attorcop looked a little pale and out of breath, but he nodded.

“Yes, yes. Fine. There was some trouble down on the balcony but thankfully a group had broken through the main entrance and came to our aid.” He gestured to some of the newcomers. They were either looking around the strange room, up at the big circular window or at Lilian and Fritha.

“Cromwell,” Lilian lowered her voice, “something happened…” Mr Attorcop cut her off.

“I saw Lilian, no need to speak of it now. I saw you and I know. But the fight is not over, we need to find the Empress.” Lilian nodded, hearing the urgency in his voice.

“Telson came in from over there,” she turned and pointed to one of the far doors, the two guards who had swallowed the Nightshade were still lying nearby in crumpled heaps. Mr Attorcop turned to William.

“Take Telson to the tower and keep him there under guard, while you’re at it, find Katherine and release her.” William looked concerned,

“What about the guards?”

“Once they hear about the fall of the palace,” replied Mr Attorcop, “they should reassess their positions. Persuade them if you have to. We’re going to find Empress Sylvia.” William nodded, shot Lilian a smile and then turned away to catch up with the group who were already leading Telson away.

“You think this will change things!?” Telson was shouting over his shoulder, “You think you’re better than me? You’re just the same, you’ll see, one day soon you’ll beg for my return. You hear me?? You’ll beg for me to help you!” A thudding sound followed this twisted prophecy and Telson bent double from a swift punch to his gut. Lilian called out to Telson as she watched him get dragged away.

"Nicholas!" he turned back to glower at her, "Eleyna has not forgotten." Telson's face flashed a confused sneer, but after he processed the words, his expression changed into one of understanding mixed with fear. As he was lead away, Lilian took solace in the fact that his past had finally caught up to him and that she was able to deliver her sword mistress's message.

“Lead the way, Lilian.” Mr Attorcop was already setting off towards the door. Lilian followed him, still reeling a little from what had just happened. What had just happened? She wondered. Fritha was thankfully uninjured and was padding happily alongside them. Lilian reached up and round to touch her shoulder, there was the hole in her armour where Telson had stabbed her, but she felt no pain there. Too many questions were racing through her mind, she decided to put them to one side for the time being and focus on finding the Empress. They had handled her guard dog, but who knew what kind of trouble they would encounter while trying to actually apprehend her. Mr Attorcop remained silent and determined.

The doorway revealed a set of steep steps, twisting up and round, presumably leading to one of the palace's many towers. The trio bounded up two at a time until they came to a door. It was big, made of thick, old wood and peppered with ancient woodworm holes. This part of the palace had not been changed in many years. Lilian looked at Mr Attorcop who studied it. He tried the handle but it was bolted shut from the inside, as expected.

“Step back,” he instructed Lilian who turned and took Fritha down a few steps before turning back to observe. Mr Attorcop closed his eyes and breathed in a long breath through his nose. He then pushed all the air out slowly through his mouth whilst bringing his right hand up to his side, palm facing forwards. A few more breaths followed the first and after about a minute he thrust his hand out with a quick breath and it struck the door with the speed and force of a battering ram. Lilian felt it shake and heard the hinges rattle with the impact. One hit was not enough though. Lilian found herself wishing for more of Peter’s exploding powder. But it was not necessary. After three minutes and four more big hits, the door swung open.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” whispered Lilian. Mr Attorcop nodded,

“Let’s get out of here first shall we? Come through, and stay on your guard.” Lilian stepped across the threshold but strangely did not feel any sense of nervousness or fear. She’d dealt with the Empress’s attack dogs and although animals were at their most dangerous when cornered, she did not anticipate much trouble from this particular cornered creature. What she did begin to feel was a mounting sense of rage.

The darkness of the stairwell was overwhelmed by the brilliant glow coming from inside the room. The ceiling was tall, for a tower chamber, and its height was made all the more impressive by the mountains of objects guiding the eye upwards to the old ceiling beams. These piles were made up of precious things: golden rings nestled in silver cups, necklaces of pearly strings draped on paintings and platinum plates. There were only two or three torches, spitting and flickering in brass sconces but this was enough to bathe the room in a shimmering golden light. It reminded Lilian of the sun room where she found the bird statue in Zandt. Only there was no water or stained glass here, just velvet carpet and stacks of wealth. Lilian, Mr Attorcop and Fritha wound their way through mounds of copper coins, heaps of important looking papers and Lilian even spotted a small lock box, filled to bursting with a rainbow array of gemstones. As her footsteps pressed against the floorboards she saw two or three cascade carelessly down onto the floor. Lilian was in awe, but that feeling was quickly replaced by anger. There were enough riches in this room to feed a starving town for several years. Enough to make sure every citizen in Freedos had a warm and happy home. Enough to banish the city’s poverty problem into the realms of mere memory. All this made Lilian hopeful, and furious.

As the trio rounded a particularly voluminous mound of silver cutlery they saw her. She was sitting on what looked like a footstool. Its squat and sturdy legs supported a red velvet cushion, trimmed with gold thread. She was dressed in white a gown, accented with silver icicles around the collar and sleeve hems. On her head was a silver coronet with a deep red ruby embedded in its centre. In amongst the heaps of haphazardly scattered treasures, she looked like just another trinket. Dwarfed by a bronze statue of a lynx to her left and a large portrait of a serious looking man to her right. She looked up at them as they approached. Her big brown eyes glistened in the gold. The Empress. The woman. Kitty Sylvia.

“Lilian?” she said, in disbelief. Her eyes darted from Lilian, to Mr Attorcop, to Lilian’s tungsten switch. Her mouth curled into a small smile. “When I invited you to come back and see me this is not exactly what I had in mind.” Lilian’s hand tightened around the handle of her weapon. Surrounded by all this inordinate wealth, this physical manifestation of injustice, The Empress didn’t have the humility to admit she was beaten, instead, she was making jokes. Lilian took a step towards her. Mr Attorcop whispered softly behind her.

“Lilian…” his voice was tense with caution. It fell on deaf ears. Lilian took another step, her boot folding into the softness of the carpet. A vision flashed through her mind, followed swiftly by another and another. She saw herself grabbing the nearest plate and whacking her royal smugness with the flat side, she watched herself feeding a coin to the Empress and asking if it sustained her, in her mind she tore down the mountains of money, ripped up the paintings and beat the empress with all the unbridled rage she could muster on behalf of the people dying from starvation all across this supposed great city. But she did none of this. Instead, she took a deep breath, shut her eyes and brought her emotions under control. Lilian Lausanne then brought herself down to the floor and sat cross legged. Then she opened her eyes, looked at the Empress and said,

“Talk.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say? That I’m sorry? That I feel bad? Well I won’t. You know why? Because everything I’ve ever done was for this city. For the people, for my people. But how would you know? You’re just a child. You probably look at all this and think, well isn’t she greedy, isn’t she dishonest? But tell me, when a famine hits the farms, who do you think pays for overseas shipments of grain? Who helps business owners, people who provide jobs, when they’re struggling through hard times? Do you think that money just appears out of thin air? No. It comes from here, from me. How do you think I pay the army to help keep us safe, hm? And you have the nerve to march up here and… what? Drag me away? Kill me, perhaps? I was your age once. I came from a small town too, just like you. And, just like you, I was brought here by men who thought they knew what was best for me. My father, my uncles, counsellors, politicians, priests. They all had their say in what I was supposed to do, supposed to say, supposed to be. And I suppose it worked. I married the emperor. I was the acceptable, loveable face of his reign of terror. It was… awful. When he wasn’t drunk he was plotting the murder of his enemies. And that could be anyone from a rival lord to the cook who burned his breakfast. And then I met Nicholas and he promised me a different life. His methods might be unconventional, but compared to the company I was keeping he seemed positively placid. And he delivered on his promise, something few other men in my life ever managed to achieve. The emperor met his mysterious end and I was free to take over. Of course I don’t have to tell your friend about all that. I suspect he’s forgotten to mention the part he played in my late husband’s demise.” She shot Mr Attorcop a dagger-sharp look. She seemed to see him for the first time then, she looked him up and down and tutted. “I suspect he’s conveniently forgotten to mention a lot of things. They never tell you the whole story do they? Has he ever explained why he’s taught you all these things? How to fight? How to lie, how to perform dark and dangerous deeds. Look at you Lilian, what child your age knows how to wield a sword, what child wears armour and is forced to take her life into her hands each night as she fights, steals, is thrown out of windows, consorts with criminals and is sent away to far off lands with no way of knowing if she will be safe? No child should have to go through what you’ve been through Lilian. Girls your age should… they should be with their parents. They should play with their friends and do simple things and get upset over trivial matters. But look at you. What has he made you into? A walking weapon for him to wield without mercy. And you call me a tyrant? Let me guess. Whenever something truly terrible happens, your aged friend here is not far away. Yes. I see it in your eyes. Ask yourself, really ask yourself, can you be sure he did not cause the injuries you’ve suffered, the pain you’ve endured, the deaths of your friends. Ah… So there was a death. And he was there wasn’t he? Offering comfort with one hand and poison with the other. Men like him, they don’t stop, you know? Just look at where you are now, poised and ready to drag me away and feed me to the wolves or perhaps to your beast. There she is.” The Empress looked at Fritha now, taking in all her colourful splendour with envious eyes. “All I wanted was to see her for myself. And here she is, just as beautiful as the rumours described her. An animal straight out of a story. You’ve likely twisted her as well. Taught her how to attack and maul and maim. But she seems calm now, pretty even.” Lilian looked back at Fritha, the feinhound was sniffing the rim of a large vase, seemingly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation unfolding around her. The Empress spoke again. “But that’s what they do, these people, men like him. They take something beautiful and twist it into something useful. You’re looking at me with hatred in your eyes Lilian but how can you be sure you’re not going through exactly the same thing as I did? Hm? How can you know you’re not becoming just… like… me.” Lilian pondered the Empress’ words. There was something desperate about her tone, something sharp. She was reminded of a bird or a cat caught in a trap, scratching at the humans trying to free it. She thought about what the Empress was suggesting, about how she too might be becoming the very thing she fought so hard against. But then, a word popped into her mind and with it her body relaxed, her shoulders dropped and she smiled. She had spoken this word, this concept in the Stave Church in Bonneville a few weeks ago, just before Mr Attorcop’s attic rooms were blown to smithereens by the Weardian. She thought of Kilde, she thought of her friends and of all she’d done these past few months. The word was forgiveness and it was the difference between her and the Empress. Not that she was ready to forgive her majesty for all she’d done, but she was ready to try and understand her, to treat her with kindness, even though she hated her. This was not just the end of a dynasty, it was the beginning of a process.

Lilian stood up, she’d heard enough for now. A plan was forming in her mind, but she needed a little distance to figure out the finer details. She looked down at Empress Sylvia and saw fear in her eyes.

“Kitty Sylvia, you are from this moment, no longer the Empress of Freedos and the western realms. You are a citizen, like the rest of us. You’ll spend some time in the tower to pay for your crimes and then we will figure out what to do with you. Take off that silly crown now and follow me. We’re leaving”

A long silence followed the order, but slowly, the reality of Miss Sylvia’s situation dawned on her and her expression transformed from hatred to understanding. There was even a trace of gratitude there as it was well known that treason under her rule was normally met with swift execution. The one time leader slowly removed her coronet and placed it on the floor. Her fingers lingered on it for a few seconds, as if they were leaving the hand of an old friend as they said their goodbyes. But then, ever proud, Kitty Sylvia stood up, held her chin high and followed Lilian and Mr Attorcop down and out of the palace, Fritha padding beside her, tolling her gong with each passing minute.

When they reached the entrance to the palace they were met by a thousand silent gazes. The stunned and quiet faces of nobles, beggars and labourers stared at them as they left the grand building. Lilian glanced at the ground and saw the fallen weapons of palace guards, scattered besides pitchforks and pickaxes. The traces of blood on the flagstones and the bruises appearing on the cheeks of those around them all pointed to signs of a great struggle. The people of Freedos had joined the fight and by the looks of things, they had won. Now they were watching as their fallen leader was marched through their ranks. They did not shout, they did not throw things as Lilian feared they might. Instead, they just looked at her, every face telling a story of how this woman had hurt them. Mr Attorcop lead the way, making sure the crowd parted as they approached. Word quickly travelled down the slopes and as they walked out of the palace gates and began their descent, they saw the crowds lining the roads. The sun was just rising on the horizon, shining its warming light on the hundreds of faces that stretched down the side of the extinct volcano. It was a beautiful morning, the sky was clear and the only thing that broke the silence were the footsteps of a deposed Empress and the sound of birds singing.

They left the city and walked the dirt road to the tower. When they reached it, they saw that the guards had laid down their swords and halberds and were sitting in a group by the door, their hands bound by thick twine. A group of revolutionaries, lead by William, were close by. By the looks of things, the guards had not put up much of a fight. William greeted them.

“We’ll take it from here. Thank you Lilian, and Cromwell and Fritha, the city owes you a debt.” Lilian shook her head.

“Everyone played their part, we just did what we needed to do.” William smiled.

“You did so much more than that. And if you won’t take my thanks perhaps you’ll take someone else’s.” He moved to one side and glanced behind him. A few feet away a woman looked up and smiled.

“Katherine!” Lilian jumped for joy and ran to her friend, throwing her arms around Katherine’s waist and squeezing her tightly.

“My darling, I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, I’m sorry I left, I didn’t know you would be sent here, if I had I…” Katherine pulled her close again, shushing Lilian’s apologies.

“Hush my love, you had nothing to do with this. You did the right thing in leaving or you would have ended up in here with me.” Lilian wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at Katherine’s face. Her cheeks had lost some of their colour and she’d clearly not been eating well, but her eyes still sparkled with that same kindness she’d seen in her first week in Freedos. William walked Miss Sylvia through the tower gates.

“Come on your majesty, I’ve got a cell in here with your name on it.”

As they watched her get swallowed up into the dark halls of the tower she turned to look back at them. Lilian saw fear in the Empress's eyes and felt a small pang of compassion in her heart. Once she’d disappeared from view Mr Attorcop put his hand on Lilian’s shoulder.

“You did well Lilian. Few would have gone into that room and shown her that kind of mercy.” Lilian looked at the floor.

“If we’re going to start from scratch, then we can’t be like her. We start as we mean to go on.” Lilian turned to look her mentor in the eye, “we have a lot of work to do.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“Yes. But it’s not your work. I think we can all agree that you’ve done more than enough. The Empress said a lot of things up there, she was wrong about most, but she was right when she said that you’re still just a child. I’m… I’m sorry if I’ve robbed you of that.”

Lilian saw remorse spread across the old man’s face as he slumped his shoulders in shame. Lilian hugged him.

“Everything I’ve learned, everything we’ve done together, it’s all thanks to you. I wouldn’t change anything.” She broke away and looked at his face, his eyes wrinkled in a smile. “But, in the nicest possible way, I do think I’d like a break. She got in my head a bit back there and I just think some time apart might do us both some good.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“I understand. And you’re quite right and even though it does not need to be said, I still feel as though I should tell you, I had nothing to do with Kilde…” he faltered and Lilian interrupted him.

“I know.” Mr Attorcop nodded and wiped his eye with the back of his hand.

“Ahem, well. I think we should probably head back to the city, maybe eat something, hm? What do you say? After some food I’ll start organising a way to manage the city and you, well, you should do what you wish.” Lilian looked at her friends and smiled.

“I’d like that.” They all started to walk away and after a few steps, Lilian realised that Katherine was not following them. She turned to look back at her, she seemed hesitant to leave.

“Katherine? Are you coming?” Katherine turned to look at the tower and then back at Lilian.

“No… No I don’t think so.” Lilian was confused.

“Why not?” Katherine considered the question.

“I think I need to stay here. I know that I didn’t hurt those officers, not directly, but it was still my fault that they suffered. Walking away freely from doing that feels… strange. I think I’m going to stay here and work with the Empr… with Miss Sylvia. She’ll need feeding and guarding and I think I’d do better to serve here than to go back to looking after some very wealthy children. Heh… maybe my job won’t be as different as I thought.” Lilian understood and went back to hug her again.

“If anyone can do it, you can.”

“Thank you my love,” said Katherine, “And it’s not like I’ll be disappearing. I’ll still be able to visit you in the city for tea and cakes.” Katherine returned the hug and squeezed Lilian just that little bit more, to tell her how much she meant to her, to tell her all the things that words were too ill equipped to say. Then they parted, said goodbye and Lilian turned back to the city.

Lilian spent the next few months in Freedos. She spent her days training, walking Fritha and helping people when and where she could. Occasionally she would go back and visit Mr Twitchett who, after a brief explanation, had understood why Lilian had left her position at his shop so suddenly. He’d hired a young lad to help him and Lilian was always happy to drop by and catch up over a pot of hot tea. Some days she would shadow Mr Attorcop and observe how he went about setting up a new way of governing the city. Representatives from each quarter formed a small council, the members of which would meet once a fortnight to discuss how best to run the city. The nobles and business owners were allowed to keep their enterprises running but stricter rules were put in place surrounding the treatment of workers, and how much profits they would be allowed to keep before having to reinvest their money back into the society that made them. It was complex work which involved a lot of arguing but even in just a few weeks Lilian began to see changes. The royal coffers were raided and used to pay builders and workers to fix the poorer parts of the city. Anyone living on the streets were employed to do menial tasks or paid a small sum to attend classes. The bad smells emanating from the base of the volcano slowly disappeared and even the rat population seemed to decrease. Occasionally Lilian would catch sight of Bried or one of her gang, doing their best to keep alleyways dark and dangerous. They did their best to ignore each other but Lilian knew that Bried would never stop trying to carve a piece of the city out for herself. A stranger sight in Freedos than the queen of crime was the ex-empress herself. Katherine came to believe that simply locking her away was not enough. Kitty Sylvia owed the people of Freedos a debt and she would not be able to pay it from behind the bars of a cold cell. Katherine accompanied her into the city most days where she was promptly put to work. Together, they worked in kitchens feeding the hungry, they helped to paint old buildings, fix broken things and generally tried to place themselves wherever they were most needed and most useful. At first the old tyrant was treated with cold indifference. Food was aggressively slopped into her bowl, harsh whispers followed her wherever she went. The first few weeks she was spat upon, shoved, kicked and treated with utmost disdain. But she was diligent and under Katherine’s watchful eye she persisted in her duties. One day Lilian was watching her clean an old sewer grate. She was on her hands and knees and up to her elbow in muck. Lilian was nearby helping a stall holder sell her wares when out of the corner of her eye she saw an old woman approach the ex-empress and hand her a cloth with which to clean herself. Lilian watched Kitty Sylvia accept it warily, as if expecting some trick. But there was none. The old woman just smiled and walked away. It was a small moment, and Lilian had nearly missed it, but just as soon as she had witnessed this small act of compassion, something clicked in her mind. Lilian was ready to leave.

It took a week to get her affairs in order. She planned a dinner with Katherine and William, took Mr Attorcop to his favourite drinking house, brought Mr Twitchett a bouquet of wild flowers and even found a gift for Katrina. It was a small perfume box built to house a tiny bottle of perfume. It was made of bone porcelain and painted red with gold detailing. Lilian gave it to her in the rare flower market, between the tall shelves stacked high with perfectly preserved materials.

“My goodness Lilian, it’s beautiful. Oh, I’ll be so sorry to see you go. And not just because I’ll miss you, but when you’re around Cromwell is just easier to get on with.” Lilian smiled,

“Hopefully he won’t change too much.” Katherine laughed,

“Ha, if only you knew how much he has changed. The years before he went to Benlunar and met you he was, sad, and bitter. Watching him do his work with the council now I see real hope and energy in him. It’s marvellous. Thank you, Lily darling, and not just for the box, but for that.” Out of the corner of her eye, Lilian saw Peter appear at the door to the back room. She turned and smiled at him.

“You’re really going?” he asked. Lilian nodded. She felt a lump appear in her throat but before a tear could escape from her eye Peter was already across the room and hugging her. “I’ll come visit, aye? If Benlunar is as beautiful as you say then I should think it’s worth a trip to see my friend.” Lilian giggled and sniffed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, her voice muffled by his woolly green jumper.

“Then it shall be the easiest promise I have ever kept.” They both smiled and then the mood shifted to bittersweet sadness.

“Farewell, Lilian Lausanne.”

“Farewell, Peter Sturgeon. Bye Katrina, I’m sure I’ll see you both very soon. And in case I don’t see her, please send my love to Serena.” Peter’s face turned a bright shade of pink.

“Who?” exclaimed his mother and Lilian left before she put her foot any further into her mouth.

On the morning of her departure Lilian got up early. She wanted to take Fritha to all her favourite spots before leaving. They went to the park, to Checkhad square, and they even did a small tour of old town before going back to The Greedy Goose to pick up their belongings. Lilian struggled a little to pack everything she had amassed during her time in Freedos into the little travelling pack she’d brought from Benlunar. Thankfully though, Beatrice and Chester, the innkeepers, had a spare pack that had been left by another guest. This one had straps that looped over both shoulders meaning the traveller could have both hands free while they walked. Lilian thanked them profusely and after a hearty breakfast, left for her appointment at the city gate. The journey there was strange indeed. People she’d only spoken to once or twice in her life smiled when they saw her and wished her a pleasant journey. Some would rush over to her in a sweat, thankful to have caught her before she left, and thrust packets of dried meats or sour berries into her hands. One older man gave her a beautifully carved walking staff in the shape of a thin tree, a full moon was at its top nestled in the intricately cut branches. No one accepted any payment and with each new street there were more people rushing out of their homes to say their goodbyes. Children threw their arms around her as their mothers enquired about which routes she would be taking. People leaned out of windows to wave and if Lilian hadn’t been so shocked, she might have been overwhelmed with emotion. They all said thank you, and they all had stories about how their lives had improved in the week’s since Empress Sylvia’s deposition. Fritha was just as delighted as Lilian, as everyone wanted to pat her head, hug her and feed her expensive cuts of meat. By the time she reached the city gate, a small crowd had gathered and Lilian became so inundated with gifts she began to worry how she might carry it all. But then, in the middle distance, she saw Mr Attorcop. Lilian was just thanking a young lady for her generous gift of a bag of grain, when she noticed him standing beside a very large and very handsome looking horse. He was holding the reigns and, perhaps even more surprising, smiling.

“Is this…” Lilian pointed up at the animal, not daring to speak the full question.

“This,” began Mr Attorcop, “this is Afaran and yes, he is yours. The least I could do really after having made you walk here.” Lilian gazed up into the horse’s jet black eye, he was calm, probably distracted by the bag of grain in Lilian’s arms but he remained placid as she approached him and lifted her hand to touch his nose. His coat was all black, save for a diamond patch of white on his forehead.

“He’s two years old and well trained, you might wish to keep him or sell him when you get to Benlunar. Speaking of which, there’s some money and food in his saddle bags and…” Mr Attorcop faltered. Lilian glanced at him, if she didn’t know any better she might have thought he was getting emotional. “Ahem, so, stay safe and I will see you soon.”

“Really?” she asked, excitedly,

“Oh yes. I’ll be due a visit to our mutual friend in Benlunar in a few months so I’ll be sure to say hello.” Lilian smiled. Words were nearly running out so she hugged him and whispered,

“Thank you,” into the folds of his starry cloak.

“Remember to keep training, I want to see that strange power of yours when I see you in Benlunar. Don’t eat food that you haven’t seen being properly cooked, boil your water before you drink…”

“Alright alright,” Lilian giggled, “I’ll be fine.” Mr Attorcop relented.

“I know. Here,” he offered her his hand and helped her up into the saddle on Afaran’s broad back. He was a little bigger than most horses she’d ridden before, but she sensed a confident calmness in him. This beast would not scare easily. Lilian took the reins in her hands and glanced down at Mr Attorcop. He was packing her various gifts into the saddle bags and making one final check to see that Lilian had everything she needed. Then he stood back, smiled and said,

“Be safe, be clever, be kind.” Lilian grinned and nodded. Then she turned to wave goodbye to the crowd who all cheered and waved back. Then she tugged on Afaran’s reins to make him turn, lightly kicked his side to make him walk and she headed out of the city gate.

The road stretched out in front of her paved with hopes and stones. Fritha ran ahead in excitement and Lilian rocked happily in the saddle. She felt a little sad to be leaving but excited to be going home. She found herself hoping the trip would not be too boring but remembered then that the way to the western mountains is long and dangerous. Many things can happen on such a journey. One might even have an adventure.

Episode 50

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian could not help feeling a rush of excitement. She had just witnessed Peter’s chemical concoction explode and now she, along with William, Fritha and Mr Attorcop were rushing towards the large iron door in the cemetery wall. This wall, which towered above them at least twenty feet in height, was the only thing standing between them and the palace grounds, and now they had breached it. Lilian remembered to steady her breathing, lest she become over excited and distracted. Mr Attorcop wafted away the smoke, which smelled of severely burnt meat, and slowed his pace as he approached the door. Lilian heard footsteps hurrying up behind her and turned to see Peter catching up with them. Genaro and his two companions were not far behind.

“Ha! Told you! I knew it would work. Lugging that stuff all the way back from Zandt was worth it after all.” He was gesturing to where the jar of black dust had been placed moments ago. The jar was nowhere to be seen. The iron around its placement was twisted and bent outwards, as if a giant’s fist had been plunged straight through it. The brick wall had suffered damage as well, with a large section where the bolt had been embedded missing and turned to dust. Mr Attorcop pushed the door gently and the group watched with glee as it swung open easily, revealing a serene, starlit garden beyond. Peter tapped Lilian on the shoulder.

“This is where I leave you. I’m no fighter and I’d only slow you down. I’ll see you in the morning though aye?” Lilian smiled and nodded.

“Yes, thank you Peter.” Peter grinned,

“Don’t mention it, good luck.” He turned on his heel, gave one last look at his handiwork and ran away through the cemetery smiling like a schoolboy.

“I think we’d best stay too,” mumbled Genaro, “My head feels three times the size and growing every second. That bang didn’t help one bit, impressive though it was.” Lilian stepped over the rubble, towards him.

“Thank you Genaro, I mean it. You and your men, the brave sons of Taymar, did well.” All three of them beamed with pride, despite the fact that the effort obviously caused them some discomfort. Genaro turned to go but caught himself before leaving.

“Oh, one more thing. Miss Lausanne, you don’t have a weapon.” Lilian instinctively looked down at her hands. She hadn’t given it much thought, she was so used to fighting with her fists and feet, but now that she considered what might lie beyond the wall, a weapon might do her good. Genaro reached behind his back and grabbed the handle of his sword. Or at least, Lilian thought it was a sword. When he brought the weapon out of its scabbard Lilian saw that it was more of a metal rod. It had a handle of thin tied rope and was polished to a shine.

“This is a tungsten switch, quite rare and in the right hands, very dangerous. See how it thins a little at the tip? That will make your strikes faster. It looks thin, but it packs a wallop and its blows are usually less deadly than a sword’s.” He placed the weapon in Lilian’s open palms.

“Alexi…” she began, “I can’t…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted her, “it’s yours. Consider it an apology gift, for letting you down. Now with this and the help with the soldiers here I think I can sleep soundly once more.” Lilian smiled.

“Thank you.” Alexi Genaro took a step back and bowed. His comrades followed suit and in the next instant the gentlemen revolutionaries were off into the night, their capes and billowy shirts, flapping in the breeze.

“Right,” said Mr Attorcop, “time is wasting, let’s push on.”

Now that they were down to just three, four including Fritha, they moved quicker and quieter through the palace gardens. Like shadows they leaped between topiaries and expertly shaped hedges. The gardens were beautiful but they had no time to stop and admire the flowers coloured blue by the moonlight. Genevive had given them strict instructions as to how to navigate the gardens and they were thankful for them, for without her direction they would have surely gotten lost in the shrubbery maze. At one point Mr Attorcop directed them to duck into a bush and Lilian heard the sounds of booted footsteps rushing by up ahead, surely the sound of soldiers sent to investigate the disturbance at the door. The palace loomed dark and high above them, as if it were a chess player and the scurrying folk at its feet merely pieces in its twisted game. After about fifteen minutes they found the base of the palace and headed to the back garden entrance. Lilian hadn’t seen this part of the palace from when she had attended the ball. The garden door was embedded in an ornate alcove. Mr Attorcop glanced about before approaching it, making sure no one had followed them.

“Now remember,” he whispered, “our goal is to find the Empress, I have no doubt that she will be heavily guarded, but if she is to answer for her actions, then she must be isolated and detained.”

“And then what?” asked Lilian. Mr Attorcop’s face became difficult to read. His countenance grew serious, even more serious than usual and he stared at Lilian and William with a dark look in his eyes.

“I should imagine a trial. That is, if she comes quietly. Too much resistance and we might have to dispense our own brand of justice.” Lilian was having trouble telling if he was joking. “Let’s just focus on catching her first,” he said, smirking at Lilian’s worried face. He turned to the thick wooden door and focused on the latch. There was a hole there made for a large key, but without any key or any more explosives to hand Mr Attorcop was forced to improvise. He turned towards the moon, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Lilian knew he was about to perform some of his own gloaming and she felt an unpleasant pang of jealousy. Focus, she told herself, there would be time to address that later. After about half a minute Mr Attorcop took a section of his long black sleeve and began to work it between his fingers. Lilian watched as the limp material slowly began to take shape. It formed itself into a thin plank, stiff as a board and yet still malleable to Mr Attorcop’s touch. He turned back to the door and worked the now stiff cloth into the small gap between the wall and the door. With a quick, jerking motion he hoisted the cloth upwards and Lilian heard the satisfying click of the latch being released on the other side. She smiled as the door swung inwards.

“Very nice,” whispered William, “couldn’t we have done that with the iron door though?” Mr Attorcop bade them inside and shook his head.

“No, the bar would have been too heavy. My cloak is only wool, I cannot change its properties, just shift them a little, like starch.” William was impressed nonetheless, it was not often people got to see real sorcery at work, even though Lilian knew that Mr Attorcop would be the last person to call it that.

The corridor inside was dark, streaks of moonlight bled in from small windows by the ceiling and Mr Attorcop cut through them quickly as he lead the way. Fritha seemed to have picked up on the atmosphere and was drifting in and out of perfect camouflage, hugging and mimicking the grey stone wall beside her, only becoming visible when she stepped into the streams of moonlight. Lilian tried to keep an eye on her but had to focus on keeping her armour and footsteps from making any sound. Thankfully, this wasn’t too difficult. The armour seemed to have been built for stealth and needed only a hand pressed lightly onto the breastplate to keep it from clanging.

All of them held their breath as they approached an open archway up ahead. There were the sounds of voices and shuffling movement coming from somewhere beyond the arch. Lilian tried to get her bearings and judged by the amount of time they’d been navigating this corridor that they must be near the main hall by now. Mr Attorcop put a hand out behind him, signalling them to stop while he went on ahead. He hugged his back to the wall and peered round the corner. He remained motionless for a few seconds, enough time for Lilian to breathe out slowly and shift her senses. The voices became clearer, one belonged to a man, his tone was gruff and strangely familiar.

“It’s not a question of numbers, it’s about positioning. Leave the soldiers in the yard and gardens. Inside I want only castle personnel.” The voice was answered by another, younger voice that Lilian did not recognise.

“Yes Captain. And her majesty is…” the first voice cut it off,

“Never you mind. Telson is protecting her personally, she’ll be fine.” Lilian came out of focus then in time to see Mr Attorcop coming back.

“It’s Taymor. He’s got palace guards with him.” Lilian looked over at William. She worried he might lose his temper and go after Katherine’s imprisoner and husband. But he kept his head and barring the white knuckles on his tightening fist, showed no sign of betraying the mission. Lilian suddenly realised just how tall he was as well. He was such a good natured man that she hadn’t really noticed the bulk on his arms and width of his shoulders. He would not have stood out from a row of soldiers and Lilian feared for any man that would come up against him when his patience ran thin.

“We should keep going, we don’t want them taking the Empress away,” he said. Lilian shared what she had just heard.

“Telson has the Empress, they’re probably upstairs somewhere.” Mr Attorcop did some quick calculations in his head before replying.

“We need a way to access the upper levels.” Lilian thought back to the evening of the ball. Had she missed something that could help them now?

“There are several ways we can access the balcony upstairs. I was taken up there via a side staircase off the main hall, perhaps there are others like it?” The three of them nodded and doubled back. There had been some small corridors and doors leading away from the hallway on their journey, but they had ignored them, seeking the main hall so they could find their bearings. So far, the palace back passages had been thankfully free from soldiers, but Lilian knew that could change at any minute.

After retracing their steps for just a minute or so, they came to a squat looking door built into a rounded corner.

“Here,” said Lilian, “this round part might have a staircase inside.” Mr Attorcop twisted the ring on the edge of the door and the latch popped up. The door swung open slowly, its metal hinges whining at the effort. The group held their breath but thankfully there was a set of wooden stairs built into the edge of the well. They began their ascent. Lilian knew they were heading in the right direction, but the feeling of not knowing exactly how to get there was uncomfortable. The four of them silently made their way up the stairwell until they came to a door, set into the side of the wall. Mr Attorcop was leading the way and so, after briefly putting his ear to the wood, opened the door as quietly as possible. The door revealed a comfortable looking lounge room. Soft furnishings were scattered about the space in little groups, window seats hugged the large panes of crystal clear glass through which a view of the entire city could be seen. Lilian glanced out of one of the tall windows and felt her legs weaken a little from dizziness. The palace was built on top of an old volcano after all, so from here, there was nowhere to look but down. They made their way through the room without a sound, just a few loud sniffs from Fritha who had become interested in a chaise-longue in the corner. The carpets softened their steps up until another door set into the eastern wall, the one furthest away from the windows. It was one of two such doors, both of which were decorated with swirling, flowing details and had little leaves carved into the edges. They were painted light blue, like the rest of the room, with the carvings highlighted in white. Mr Attorcop tried the handle and breathed a small sigh of relief when he found it open.

The door let out into a corridor lit by several candles stationed in sconces along the length. They listened out for movement or speech, but heard nothing. And so, following their instincts, they made their ways along the passage. They ignored most of the doors along its length, knowing by looking at them that they would lead to trivial places like tea rooms, libraries, smoking rooms, washrooms, etc. What they were looking for was somewhat grander than these.

The great hall came into sight just a few moments later. After a few twists and wrong turns they found themselves on the great balcony where Lilian had met Empress Sylvia at the ball all those months ago. As Lilian stepped back on to the boards and looked up, she noticed how bleak this place was with no magical fairy lights to brighten up the large walls. They began to cross the balcony, following Lilian now as she remembered exactly where The Empress had emerged from that day and assumed that she would have come straight from her personal quarters. With any luck, she would be there now. Lilian glanced over the balcony edge as they traversed the hall. Where once there had been a fantastical forest, there was now just pale and cold stone. Lilian stopped in her tracks. There was something strange about the sight below. The space was empty. She had expected to see soldiers guarding the main door, but the large wooden structure was shut and looked out over an empty space. A few torch flames flickered in the cavernous space below them, but that was all the movement Lilian could see. She stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes and took a long, calming breath. As she slipped into focus, the palace remained largely dark. So few sounds were being made that Lilian was having a bit of trouble orienting herself. She picked up the noise of people from far below and outside, soldiers discussing tactics in the courtyard. But there was something else, something closer that was drawing her attention. Up? No. Along the wall there, somewhere below and behind them. Opening her eyes, Lilian whipped round and pointed at the passage they had just come from.

“There are people coming,” she said.

“How many?” asked Mr Attorcop.

“Not sure, maybe ten or twelve, a lot.” Mr Attorcop’s expression grew dark.

“Let’s keep going.” Their brisk and quiet walk turned into a run as they headed once again for the stairwell entrance on the other side of the balcony. Lilian didn’t dare enter focus again, knowing that the sound of boots behind them would only be getting closer.

They had almost made it to the stairwell entrance on the other side when a loud shout drew Lilian’s attention back. She turned briefly to see who had made the sound and she was greeted by a small company of soldiers spewing out of the stairwell opposite like mice out of a burning bakery. The man leading them was tall, had a serious expression and an angular face. Lilian knew him now, even though they had never officially met. This was Taymor Brown, Katherine’s husband. His uniform had changed since the last time she’d seen him. His Weardian coat had been replaced by leather armour and a dark green surcoat with the Empress’s sigil plastered plainly on the chest in gold and rose. He was drawing his sword as he strode towards them, half running.

“Stop where you are. You are under arrest for trespassing, murderous intent and treason. Under the authority of Empress Sylivia, you are to come with us and be placed in the dungeons until your trial.” Lilian watched as all twelve men around him drew their weapons and began to edge closer. She turned to look at Mr Attorcop and was surprised to see him stopped, frozen in place facing away from the soldiers with his eyes closed. He was breathing deeply and rhythmically. Lilian knew she had to buy him some time. She was about to say something when William stepped forward.

“Taymor,” he spoke in a low and serious tone, his own sword drawn from its scabbard. He took two steps towards the group of palace guards, and spoke again, “You’re on the wrong side of all this. Think about…” his voice cracked with emotion, “think about Katherine. If she could see you like this, fighting little girls and obeying a mad Empress’ every wish, what would she think? Perhaps that’s why you threw her in the tower. So that you didn’t have to face her disappointed expression whenever she looked at you.” Lilian’s heart was thumping, Mr Attorcop still had not turned around and was still focusing intently on his breathing. Taymor Brown’s eyes narrowed as they glowered at William.

“You must be Mr Lincoln. I must say, I’ve tried to never let myself take pleasure in what I do. I believe it fosters cruelty. But I think I can allow myself a little bit of happiness knowing that it’s you I will be throwing in a dungeon this evening. Take a good look, William…” He turned and gestured to his unit of men and the gold star on his left breast, “this is what taking pride in your work looks like. Obeying the law and working hard can get you power and respect. Not that you would know anything about an honest day’s work. Perhaps that’s what she sees in you, hm? Someone she can look after, like she does with all those children?” Lilian recognised this tactic. He was trying to make William angry. Bried had done the same thing to her back in her house in Lionsgate. William was too smart to fall for something like that though, right? She looked up at him and saw that the knuckles on his sword hand were white and a vein was throbbing in his left temple. He took another step.

“You talk of respect and honour? Is that how an honourable husband treats his wife then? By throwing her in a dungeon?” Now it was Taymor’s turn to become angry, his teeth clenched and his movements grew more erratic.

“All I’ve ever done,” he said, “was what was right, by the law, by my duty and by my family. Sometimes, people make mistakes, I’ll grant it. But an honourable person would know when and how to pay for them. Again, I’m not surprised that you do not understand.” Taymor had crossed three quarters of the balcony by now and he seemed ready to stop speaking, “now enough of this. Drop your weapons, come with us this instant and no harm will come to you.” William was shaking his head. Lilian readied herself for a fight when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Mr Attorcop’s whispering voice appeared in her ear.

“Head up the stairs, find the Empress, we’ll join you shortly.” Lilian turned to look at him but he was already striding past her, towards the guards. She glanced back at the stairs going up and twisting out of sight. She took a step towards them, trusting that Mr Attorcop knew what he was doing. She wanted to wish him good luck but became distracted by figuring out where Fritha was. She must have disappeared as soon as the guards arrived. Trusting she was not alone then, she darted for the spiral staircase, the very one she had seen The Empress emerge from when she first met her at the ball. Just as she turned the corner she saw movement coming from the balcony, a large black mass, swirling and twisting darted out of her vision and then all she had left were the sounds of her feet on the steps, the clattering of swords and the screams of men.

The spiralling steps took her up and up to the realms of roofs and towers. Small slits in the brickwork allowed Lilian to see out over the ancient tiles that lined the tops of the palace structures. There were windows across from her so she assumed these towers were connected, probably via rooftop walkways. Lilian’s stomach dropped when she craned her neck out to see the palace gardens and walls. She had thought the balcony high up, but these heights were unnatural, especially for anything that wasn’t a mountain. Lilian didn’t mind heights, it would be tough to live in Benlunar if you did, but this tower was becoming ridiculous. Just as her thighs began to scream from pushing her up two steps at a time, the spiral well let out into a large space. Lilian hesitated to think it a room, it felt more like a landing. The ceiling was relatively low, compared to the chambers in the lower part anyway and especially compared to the great hall. It was roughly the length of the Stave Church in Benlunar and had large wooden beams supporting the roof above and long smooth planks under foot. Small doors ran the length of the space along the walls to her right and left. In the wall at the far end, there was a large round window paned by blue stained glass. This window could be seen from street level, it looked out over the palace courtyard. Lilian had always thought it to be a bit dreary, but now she could see that it was meant to be viewed from the inside, rather than admired from the street. Even the dim light of the stars and moon was enough to wash this space in streaks of beautiful blue and silver. Lilian approached the glass slowly, studying its designs. In the pale panes and swirling metal frames she saw moons and constellations. This window was old, old enough to have been built for when this building was still a church. For the first time since coming to Freedos though, Lilian found herself asking what it was the people used to worship here. It was chilly up in this large room with no sconces or fires, but Lilian felt more comforted than cold. She looked about instinctively for Fritha, sure that she would have come up here with her, but before she could call out, movement at the far end of the space caught her eye. It was one of the little doors nestled in the wall. It opened quickly and three men walked out, one of them was barking orders at the other two. He walked with a cane and was wearing a long azure blue coat with details sewn in golden thread lining the edges. His black shoes were polished to a shine and they had gold buckles that matched the jacket. He walked into the wash of blue light but froze as soon as he saw Lilian. She had not tried to hide, she just gripped her weapon and stood as confidently as she could in the middle of the room looking directly at Nicholas Telson. Telson smiled. Lilian could see his face clearly even in the dim light. It was a charming face, she had to admit it. It would probably have been difficult to weedle his way into high society without such a face. But there was something twisted there, the way he smiled or the manner by which he examined people. It wasn’t the charm of someone like, Peter say, it was far less endearing and once you knew exactly just what kind of person he was, the charming facade fell away to reveal malice behind it.

“So you finally made it to your appointment,” he said, “A little late, but I suppose that’s better than never.” Lilian’s nerves were getting the better of her. She wanted to be able to joust with words properly and give him some witty comeback, but perhaps now was not the time to care about those things.

“It’s over Telson,” she said, with as much gravitas as she could muster. She suddenly felt very alone.

“Over? My dear the night is young, you’re here on your own and the Empress is very much secured. I would say things are only just beginning.” His smile faded into a scornful glare. His countenance quickly shifted, Lilian moved her switch up in front of her and shifted her left leg behind her.

“You two, drink that stuff and deal with this intruder.” The order set off alarm bells in Lilian’s head. Stuff? She thought, what stuff? The two men who were flanking Telson, looked at each other and then at him with confused expressions.

“Mr Telson, are you sure that’s really necces…” Telson reacted quickly and brought the tip of his cane down hard on the man’s foot before he could finish talking. The large man winced in pain and bent over, putting himself at eye level with Telson.

“Do not question my orders. This one is not worth trifling with.” They looked back at Lilian, who readied herself by shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot and then jerking her head forwards in a sharp nod so as to knock the helmet visor forward. A set of silver jaws obscured her vision for a moment and then, with a pleasing thunk she was looking out through the eyes of her metal mask.

A small flicker of concern, flitted across the faces of the two guards, the helmet was disconcerting even for seasoned soldiers. The jaws and face were designed to trigger primal fears. But then they sneered and stood up to their full heights. Telson began to move backwards, back towards the large window. He would observe proceedings from a safe distance, getting others to hurt and be hurt for him. Lilian thought she saw a glint of pleasure in his eye as his two guards brought out little bottles from within their uniforms. Lilian’s body nearly flinched at the sight of the purple liquid sloshing about inside them. An echo of pain flowed through her arm and back at the memory of the last time she saw such a bottle. Without any further warning, the guards flicked off the caps and tipped the containers up and back, letting the thick purple ichor slip quickly out of the bottles and rush down their throats, like it was conscious and eager to escape imprisonment. Both men winced, one dropped his bottle and Lilian watched it fall to the floor with a clatter, remaining intact upon impact with the floorboards. Lilian breathed out a long and slow breath. She had imagined this kind of moment many times over the past weeks. So far, everything was going according to prediction. The men had drunk the Nightshade and would now have to wait a few seconds until it took effect. She had a plan in her head, but was nervous about whether or not it would work. From somewhere deep in the palace, Lilian thought she heard a shout, but tried to not let it distract her. The seconds dragged by and Lilian waited. Just when she began to worry about whether this batch of Nightshade was in any way different or better, the two guards did just what she expected them to do. Their faces contorted in pain and they both bent over double, clutching their stomachs. Now, thought Lilian and she rushed forward, fighting all the voices in her mind telling her it was too dangerous. If her theory was correct, she only had a brief window in which to act. She crossed the space between them as quickly as her legs could carry her. Instead of stopping when she reached the two men, she veered to the left and let her momentum carry her forward into the first guard. Her movement did not stop until her fist connected with the guard’s stomach. He had been too incapicated to stop her and once his body felt the punch in his gut, his eyes widened in shock. Lilian did not wait to see if she had been successful, instead, she twisted round and landed a swift backheel kick in the second man’s stomach. He reacted in the same way as the first. Both men were on the floor now. Writhing in agony and vomiting purple gunk onto the old wood. Lilain allowed herself a smile. She had suspected a direct attack on the gut to be effective, but she hadn’t imagined it would put two grown fighters completely out of action. It appeared nightshade had a weakness.

Lilian turned to look at Telson. His mouth was pursed and his expression was dark and disappointed. He sighed and spoke,

“Uh, typical. You know, if the Empress hadn’t wanted to meet you, I would have chopped you up in that dirty little room of yours. But now that you’ve committed treason I don’t think her grace will fret too much over your death.”

Telson stepped forward, into the stream of blue light that was coming from the window behind him. His shadow stretched out in front of him until it touched the tips of Lilian’s toes. He drew his sword out of its cane-shaped sheath and examined it in the light. Lilian glanced at her own weapon. She still hadn’t used it properly and this thing was a little heavier than the training blades she’d used in Zandt. It felt good in her hand though. A satisfying weight and a good balance gave her confidence. Besides, there was something she liked about the fact that it was not sharp or pointed. Telson swished his blade back and forth in the air, sending dust swirling around him. Lilian’s head was awash with thoughts. She tried to remember everything she’d been taught by Mistress Eleyna, she tried to focus, she tried to stop worrying about Mr Attorcop and William. It was all too much.

“I take it you’ve become quite the poster child…” he stepped forward and focused his gaze on Lilian, “How disappointed the people will be when they find you in the morning.” Without another sound, Telson was rushing forwards. His speed was uncanny. Had Lilian not been ready and watching him, she was sure he could deliver a killing blow from that distance in less than a couple of seconds. But Lilian was ready. In fact, she was more than just ready. She saw in the positioning of his weapon in relation to his body that he was in the sixth Atarapian stance, second movement. It was hard to be sure, his movements were not as obvious and defined as she had been taught, but this flash of insight was all she needed. She knew instinctively that there were several counters to this attack, she chose the tenth stance, third movement, flicking her feet into position and adjusting her body to absorb the oncoming attack and, hopefully, stop it in its tracks.

Telson closed the gap and brought his sword out in a textbook sixth, second stab. This stance included a distraction in the form of a stomping foot, Lilian ignored this easily and stepped in over it bringing her weapon and free hand forward from the side in an attempt to trap Telson’s arm against his body. The brief look of surprise on his face suddenly made all those hours of agonising lessons worth it. Lilian could not resist a smile. She hoped he saw it through the gaps in her mask. Telson shoved her quickly and twisted out of the pin. He looked at Lilian up and down with new eyes. He began to circle her slowly keeping his weapon trained on her body and his eyes on her mask.

“You’ve been… practising I see.” He quickly shifted into second stance, Lilian countered with fourth and third. He lifted his sword sheath up into ninth and first, Lilian moved into fifth and first. They shadow boxed like this for a while, testing the other’s reflexes and analysing their choices of attack and defense stances, Telson moving all the while. Once he’d completed a half circle around her, Telson spoke again through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know who taught you Atarap, but they didn’t do a very good job. Either that or you were just a poor student.” Lilian was about to reply, but she stopped herself. She was done with talking. She flashed two steps forward, bringing her metal rod weapon out and round in a swift arc. Atarap was mainly a sword fighting art and therefore relied a lot on stabs and slashes. These would be useful moves for Lilian, but with her current weapon, they would not be deadly. Telson saw the attack coming and blocked it with his cane sheath. He quickly brought his sword up to counter but Lilian batted it away using a technique Mr Attorcop had taught her in Benlunar. It involved hitting your opponent’s shoulder and disrupting their attack. It wasn’t strictly an Atarapian move, a skilled user could counter it quickly, which Telson of course did. Lilian couldn’t help noticing however that her tactic caught him off guard for a split second. This triggered an angry bout of quick attacks from Telson. His razor sharp blade flew at Lilian from all angles at breakneck speed, and it wasn’t only sword attacks. Kicks, punches and even one attempt at a headbutt came out of Telson’s wave of attacks. Lilian found herself backing up. He was fast, perhaps not quite as quick as Mistress Eleyna, but that didn’t matter. He was still quick enough to force Lilian to focus on defending. Lilian needed to regroup and so after ducking under a particularly vicious slash, she jumped backwards with a back handspring and created some distance between them. Lilian breathed out slowly and chastised herself. She’d been holding her breath. This would have earned her a quick wrap on the wrist from Mistress Eleyna. She looked up to see Telson smiling. His breathing had quickened but he’d kept his composure.

“I’ll admit your defense is impressive. But it’s just a matter… of…time.” He sprung forward on the last word and unleashed a volley of attacks. Lilian defended most of them, but her blocks were becoming sloppy and late. After dodging a stab aimed at her eye, she felt all her breath leave her at once and looked down to see Telson’s fist, still clenching the sheath, plunged into her stomach. Lilian shoved Telson back, coughing and spluttering and trying to catch her breath as she did. Her vision blurred slightly but she kept her weapon up. The tip of the switch wobbled as she tried to get her composure back. She heard a low, rippling sound and realised that Telson was laughing.

“The people’s champion. I suppose it's only fitting. This pitiful attempt at revolution is weak, misguided and boorish. Like a child.” Lilian brought her arms up to block an incoming punch, but it was a feint and Lilian quickly felt a shock of pain flash through her body from her thigh as Telson’s booted foot connected with the nerve in the side of her leg. The limb went numb and Lilian was forced to hobble away. Fear was taking her over now. She felt its cold sweat drip down her forehead, despite the heat of the mask. She sensed it taking control of her heartbeat, then her breathing. She breathed in sharply and heard her chest wheezing and straining with the effort. Suddenly Telson was on her again, this time he performed the eighth stance fourth and fifth kick. Lilian had learned it, but had never used it successfully in a fight. Perhaps that was why she didn’t see it coming. Telson span right and down, sweeping his left leg out and knocking Lilian’s base out from under her. Before she hit the ground though, Telson was up and kicking with his right leg. His shin connected with Lilian’s chest mid fall and sent her sliding across the boards. She heard herself emit a pained shout along with the clattering of metal on wood. This was it she thought. Telson was toying with her, but his enjoyment would be ending soon, and Lilian would not be able to fight back.

Lilian tried to support herself on her arm, but it wobbled under her weight. She coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. She heard Telson’s wood wedge boots slowly clomp towards her. Images of home flashed through her mind. She saw her parents, smiling and cooking in the kitchen. She heard Kilde’s voice asking if she could come out and play. She saw the river and heard the sound of birdsong. She felt a desperate longing to be there. To be home and safe. A lump appeared in her throat and the word ‘Mum’ formed on her lips. She realised then that her weapon had flown out of her hand during the tumble. She looked over to where it lay. She needed to get to it. She reached into her dwindling well of strength and managed to drag herself halfway there before she felt the sole of a cold boot stepping on her wrist. She winced.

“This city has always had a vermin problem. I suppose I could tie you up or something. Show you mercy. But the thing with rats is…” the boot twisted as Telson leant down, he spoke in a menacing whisper, “if you don’t kill them, they just… come… back.”

There was a crunch as her armour was punctured and a searing pain erupted from Lilian's shoulder as Telson’s cold metal blade was forced downward, stabbing her in the back.

Lilian cried out. It was not a lethal blow. Telson was not a merciful man. He was cruel, like a cat that plays with its food before devouring it. Lilian felt the sword slide out, sending another burst of hot pain through her chest and head. Her left arm went limp and useless. Her vision blurred with hot tears. She felt a boot slide under her chest and was unceremoniously lifted and kicked over so that she was now facing the ceiling. She looked to the blue window, hoping to catch a final glimpse of the moon. But Telson was blocking her vision and so all she saw was his dark silhouette and that fiendish grin.

“I’ll be sure to tell them you fought bravely, or maybe I shan’t say anything at all. I’ll just let your death become a symbol of futility. Goodnight, Lilian Lausanne.” Lilian saw the outline of his arm rise up, the flat of his blade glinting in the blue light. She shut her eyes and apologised in her mind to everyone who had been counting on her. She waited for the finishing blow.

But it did not come. Warily, Lilian opened her eyes. Telson was moving backwards, wrenching his sword arm two and frow in a jerky off beat dance. He was struggling in the dark against some invisible foe. Fritha. The feinhound shimmered into view. Her powerful jaws were locked around Telson’s wrist and he was gasping and struggling against her grip. Lilian smiled and knew that she did not have long until he was free. Her faithful companion was protecting her until the very last, even when it was obvious that she was beaten. The act gave Lilian time, but more importantly, it gave her hope. She needed to do something, she needed to regain the advantage. She needed to disappear.

And so Lilian pushed herself up into a seated position, trying desperately to ignore the pain flowing out from her shoulder. She crossed her legs, shut her eyes and took a deep breath. The sounds of Fritha’s jangling growls and Telson’s curses intensified. Lilian went past hyper focus and straight into gloaming. She turned her senses inwards and found the golden light of her heart. The strange pain was there to meet her, just as she knew it would be. Normally she would have given up and opened her eyes, but gloaming was her last resort now. She forced herself to stay with it. The white hot pain mixed with the searing cut on her back. Her body was being pushed to its physical limit but despite this Lilian kept her breaths constant and deep. Each new breath brought with it a wave of fresh agony. Her heart was racing and she felt sweat begin to fall down her forehead and into her eyes. She forced herself to keep breathing. Surely it couldn’t get worse, she heard herself think, there had to be an end to this, a threshold, a horizon, a moment beyond the pain. She had just been stabbed and didn’t mind admitting that she would rather go through that again than to sit here and deal with this strange inner torture. She was close to giving up, just a few more breaths, she told herself. Her skin felt as though it was burning from flame and acid all at once. She felt sick. She felt her organs moving inside her. Her lungs filled with fire, her stomach with white hot metal. But there, just now, she saw something. Some movement from the golden light. Like the first rays of dawn at the end of a tunnel, or a moon above a deep well.

Her heart light was growing. Instead of persuading it to leave her body, Lilian let it wash over her. Its cooling power eased the pain. Just a little at first, but then in a matter of seconds, the pain was gone. And not just the pain from gloaming, but her shoulder was no longer hurting either. She had stayed strong and was out on the other side now. She began to feel energised. Her heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm and a comforting warmth spread throughout her body. The only part of her that still felt stange, was her right forearm. Lilian opened her eyes and looked down at the spot where it hurt. Perhaps hurt was too strong a word. It didn’t hurt, it just felt bigger, more present. She nearly gasped when she twisted her arm upwards to reveal a moon and a mountain. The essence was there, skin deep and activated. It glowed silver and white in the darkness and Lilian could feel power surging from it and through her body. She looked up to the big circular stained glass window. Something was drawing her attention there. Like when a warm fire draws the body towards it. There, in one of the circular panels, fitted like a puzzle piece, was the full moon. It hung delightful in the sky, bright and beautiful. Lilian breathed in its magic and let its refreshing light flow around and inside her. The pain was all gone now replaced by… power.

“Damn you to the ninth circle you foul creature.” Telson was still struggling with Fritha, but a quick kick to the animal’s ribs made her yelp and fall to the floor. It’s fine, Lilian told herself. She would be okay, besides, she’s done enough. She can rest for now. Telson turned back to his real target, his eyes were creased with hatred. A strand of his hair was out of place and Lilian got the impression that this man really hated exerting himself in any way. His expression changed however when he saw Lilian standing up. The light of the moon was reflecting off of her armour, like snow on a frozen pond. “What… what’s wrong with your hair?” Lilian did not know what he meant, but she could sense a little of her hair moving around her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw strands floating upwards, like she was underwater. She didn’t pay it much thought. Telson was her primary concern and judging by the look on his face, he was ready for another round. “Sorcery doesn’t scare me. I’ve fought your kind before,” he walked over to pick up his fallen sword. Lilian mirrored his movements and retrieved her tungsten switch. It felt lighter in her hand than it had before. Telson continued his ranting, “It’s all just smoke and mirrors. If there was any real power behind it, the world would be ruled by sorcery. But it isn’t. It’s ruled by, well, people like me. People who have the courage and intelligence to take charge and remind those beneath them of their roles. Sorcery or not, you all bleed the same.” Lilian knew in that moment why Mr Attorcop had been targeted again and again by The Guiding Hand. It was the slightest crack in Telson’s voice. The smallest tremble, imperceptible really. He was nervous. He was bluffing. Telson began to speak again, but Lilian was done with talking, so she cut him off, “If you ask me…”

“ENOUGH TALK.” Her voice sounded strange as well, but Telson didn’t react. He just sneered.

“Fine by me.”

Telson took two steps forward, skipped a few paces and then launched into a ferocious barrage of attacks. Lilian read his movements. A fourth stance, third movement lunge lead into a quick second stance sweep. A fifth and third slash then a ninth and first punch into third into seventh stance with a modified fourth and second kick. Lilian read them all. If she hadn’t trained with Mistress Eleyna then all the gloaming in the world would not have helped, but her training, combined with this new lunar power helped her to navigate the fight. Her tungsten switch flashed from block to parry with lightning speed. She was defending herself easily enough. But she could sense that she had more to give. Lilian was beginning to feel a connection between her own body and the darkness around her. She would never be able to put it into words, but the night was starting to feel like an extension of herself. She wanted to be behind Telson and so she slipped into a shadow and reappeared behind him, landing a forward kick on his hip as she did. Telson whipped about and refound his balance quickly, but Lilian was already gone. She faded into a moonbeam and projected herself upwards, reappearing ten feet above Telson and flipping into a somersault heel kick. The back of her boot connected with Telson’s head with a sickening crack. He let out a cry and stepped back to regroup. Lilian stood up to meet his eye. For the first time since they had started trading blows, she saw his eyes glance at one of the many doors. He was looking for an escape, but Lilian would not let him go. He was in her web now. The darkness revealed suggestions on how best to trap him. He darted to his left but Lilian was ready. She lifted her right hand and dark tendril fingers appeared from between a floorboard. She shut her fingers and watched the darkness clamp itself around Telson’s ankle. He tripped over and hit his chin on the floor. Lilian saw blood escape from the side of his mouth, he must have bitten his lip on the fall. Lilian asked the darkness for more, and the darkness obeyed. Black tentacles began to rope themselves around him, fixing him in place. He fought them at first, slashing desperately with his sword. But Lilian emerged from a shadow behind him and kicked the sword away.

It slid across the floorboards and stopped at Fritha’s feet. She had stood up and was testing her weight on her kicked leg. Finding that she could walk, she padded over slowly towards them. Lilian knelt down and pressed her forehead on the feinhound’s big head. Her fur was blue with large black spots and it reflected the moonlight beautifully. They turned to stare at Telson. He had stopped struggling against the dark chords and was looking at Lilian and Fritha with wide, horrified eyes. Lilian lifted her mask so that Telson could see her face properly. He looked up at dark green-grey skin and yellow cat-like eyes. Fritha let out a long, low and loud gong and Lilian knew that she had won.

Episode 49

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian was still spellbound by the gift she had just been given. Her noble friend Genevive Katz, had appeared as if from nowhere via the strange little door at the back of Mr Attorcop’s basement residence. She had a bag with her, the contents of which were currently laid out on the table in front of the little group of revolutionaries. Lilian could not take her eyes off the silver helm, expertly beaten into the shape of a glowering feinhound. She shook herself out this stupified state, set the helmet down and hugged Genevive with all her might.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you thank you.” Genevive laughed.

“Well, I thought that if you are going to fight the Empress, you might as well look the part.”

Mr Attorcop picked up the breast plate and examined it from a few different angles.

“Well done on getting the metal so thin, I think that should work nicely.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lilian, letting Genevive go.

“Ah well, you see here,” Genevive began, “Mr Cromwell asked that I make the plates as thin as possible, something to do with you turning invisible. Which, by the way, I would love to see. Or not see! But yes, the plates are thin so be careful eh? They will help against grazes and most weapons but one big direct hit with a heavy sword and they will puncture, so please watch out for that.” Mr Attorcop nodded sagely,

“My thinking was that if the set was too heavy and thick, you would not be able to use gloaming so easily. This, of course, will have to be tested.” Lilian felt guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had not yet told Mr Attorcop that she had used the last of the Lunar Essence to make tattoo ink for a tattoo that didn’t exist. But this was a happy occasion, and that sad news could wait.

“Well, aren’t you going to try it on?” William spoke up from the back of the group. He must have been just as keen as Lilian to see how it would look. Lilian turned to look expectantly at Genevive. She smiled and nodded and before she could say anything Lilian was already grabbing a wrist brace and strapping it to her left arm. The whole suit took about ten minutes to put on, most of that time was spent adjusting the straps to the correct lengths. Genevive had to puncture a few new holes here and there but after a short time the suit was on and Lilian was ready. Mr Attorcop brought a large mirror over and Lilian stood in front of it and admired herself. She had not been overly impressed with the way she had looked attending the Empress’s Summer ball, but looking at her reflection now not only impressed her but it made her feel something more. She turned and watched the armour catch the dim light, the feinhound helmet was intimidating and the suit fit so perfectly that it did not appear clunky like some suits of armour, but sleek and moveable. Lilian looked at her reflection and felt as though she was looking at a version of herself that she aspired to be. A fighter certainly, a legend perhaps. She was so overcome with emotion that she nearly felt like ripping the whole thing off, not believing herself worthy of its greatness.

“I look… good,” she laughed, and the others laughed too. It reminded her of the armour worn by Solveig and the other members of The Hundred. Had she put it on before her time in Zandt she would have felt like a fraud, but now, maybe she was ready.

“Do you think you would be able to try gloaming?” asked Mr Attorcop. Lilian looked at her wrists and legs, she moved about a bit and considered how comfortable it would be to sit down while wearing the suit.

“I think so… Fritha, come here,” the feinhound padded over and the pair sat down on the floor. The armour bent surprisingly well to most movements. Lilian rested her hand on Fritha’s coat and took a deep breath.

Within a few seconds she had found the right rhythm. The world around her began to shift into focus. Fritha’s heartbeat grew louder, followed quickly by the sounds of her friends breathing. She’d never done this with anyone other than Mr Attorcop watching her and it felt a little strange to have an audience. She flipped her focus on herself and found the golden light emitted by her heart. Slowly but surely she began to persuade it to enter into one of Fritha’s hairs. She would only need a little seeing as it was still attached to Fritha and so would still be full of life and energy.

But then, something strange began to happen. Lilian felt a very sudden and powerful force hit her body, as if something inside her was pushing her bones outwards and attacking her organs. Her breath faltered and her heart began to skip beats and palpitate. It was a shock and extremely unpleasant. She snapped her hand away from Fritha and opened her eyes. She found herself back in the basement sweating and gasping for breath. Mr Attorcop, sensing something was wrong, rushed forwards.

“Lilian? What happened, are you alright?” she looked up at him, worried.

“I… I think so. Something strange... I could focus but when I tried gloaming it… I don’t know, I couldn’t.”

“That’s alright, Lilian. It’s been a long time, you’re probably just out of practise.” Lilian got up shakily, putting her weight slowly back on her legs. She did not feel weakened, just unsteady. She nodded her head, hoping he was right. She looked back at William, Genevive and the two Sturgeon’s and felt a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, I… I haven’t done that in a while,” she was worried they might laugh at her, but their faces showed more concern than anything else. Genevive stepped forward.

“Is it the armour?” she asked, “should I make it lighter?” Lilian shook her head.

“No, no, the armour is perfect. Really, it is. I just, I’m tired maybe.” A creeping sense of dread slipped into her mind. What had just happened? Why had she been unable to use gloaming, something she’d practised and done before a hundred times? Her worries were interrupted by the sound of knocking. The group turned to look at the small door again.

“Don’t worry,” Mr Attorcop assured them, noticing how the sound had set everyone on edge, “that will just be Michael.”

The door opened and a young boy, probably about nine years old, poked his head round the door. His cheeks were read, like he’d just been running in the cold. He was about to speak when his eyes fell on Lilian and Fritha and he went silent, his eyes widening in shock.

“Yes, Michael, what is it?” The lad found his voice and looked at Mr Attorcop,

“Lots of people sir, word got round well I think,” this news seemed to make Mr Attorcop happy. He walked over to the door and handed the boy a few copper heads.

“Thank you Michael, we’ll see you there.” The young boy shot Lilian one last look and closed the door. Mr Attorcop turned around and read the confusion on everyone’s faces.

“Now, I have covertly organised a little get together in Chekad Square. We do not need to attend, but I really think it would help our cause if we did.” He looked over at Lilian who was still recovering from the shock of what had happened during her attempt at gloaming. “Lilian, do you think you’re up for going out like that?” He gestured to her suit of armour, “I don’t want you overexerting yourself before tonight.” Lilian glanced at William who looked just as confused as she felt. Looking back at Mr Attorcop, she said,

“I’m not sure. Maybe… What’s tonight?” Mr Attorcop approached her slowly, knelt down so that he was just below her eye level and spoke softly and confidently.

“Tonight, we attack the palace.”

Minutes later, they were popping their heads out of the hidden hatch at the end of the corridor. Lilian was still getting used to moving in her new suit of armour. The shirt and trousers she wore underneath it were bunching a little and she hoped to be able to change them before attacking the palace. As they walked through the mostly empty streets of Freedos, she began to feel a little silly. Anyone looking at their group would see her sticking out like a sore thumb. William, Katrina and Peter did their best to surround her as they went, but it did little good to hide her from any onlookers. The chestplate was bright silver and she was willing to bet that she was the only person for miles around wearing a helmet shaped like a Feinhound’s head. Lilian looked down at Fritha and wished that she could be invisible. Fritha looked up at her and gave a little gong, the fear sound. Lilian nodded. She had no idea what to expect and she was beginning to grow nervous. Fritha licked her fingers as they walked, and Lilian smiled at her. Mr Attorcop was leading the way. He spoke over his shoulder as they went.

“If there are a lot of people then I think you should say a few words.” Lilian’s stomach twisted.

“What?” she felt her forehead grow cold, “what should I say?”

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Mr Attorcop had sensed the tremor in her voice, “just introduce yourself and let them know you’re back in the city and that things will change soon.” Lilian felt fingers interlocking with hers and she looked up to see Katrina, smiling at her.

“Only if you’re comfortable my dear. They’re here to see you, they don’t want to hurt you. Anything you say will be fine, Cromwell has done most of the work already,” she leaned in closer and gave a conspiratorial wink, “the gift is wrapped, you just need to tie the bow.” Lilian nodded.

“Ok,” she said, with what she hoped was more confidence than she felt. Funny, she had been less nervous fighting those two soldiers last night. Talking in front of a few people wouldn’t be so bad, would it? It was barely eighth bell anyway, most folks probably weren’t even awake yet.

But as they neared Checkad square, Lilian began to hear signs of the crowd up ahead. It began as a low hum, the occasional child or group of teenagers raced past, some even pointed at Lilian as they went. The strap under Lilian’s chin seemed to grow tighter. Once they turned the corner and the square came into view, the crowd was revealed. It stretched back, loud and long. Lilian quickly counted a hundred heads but lost count at around two-hundred and fifty. All eyes were on her and her little group. She looked up at Katrina, she was smiling at the crowd and Lilian tried to copy her. She smiled weakly at a woman nearby who was wearing a large bonnet. Her face had a grey streak of dirt on one cheek and it lit up as soon as she saw Lilian’s grin. She waved emphatically and Lilian waved back causing the woman to quickly turn to her friends and gossip excitedly. The crowd parted as they went and the animated chatter dropped to a low hum. By the time they reached the plinth that held the statue of Amala Checkad, the crowd were silent. Lilian turned around to look at everyone. Faces of all ages and social backgrounds stared back at her. Their eyes were tired but their expressions were hopeful. Here and there, she would see a pair of crossed arms and a scowl, a few understandably wary citizens peppering the throng. Lilian was beyond nervous, she instinctively reached out for Fritha and found her there, faithful and by her side. The feel of her fur calmed her. She looked up at Mr Attorcop who nodded, his face a stoic mask. Sensing her trepidation, he stepped forwards, and spoke.

“Friends!” his voice boomed out across the square, “thank you for joining us. You have all been so patient and today, that patience is rewarded.” There was a small smattering of applause and a ‘whoop’ from somewhere distant. Mr Attorcop continued, “This very moment, plans are in motion. The city is ready for change, you can all feel it, I feel it too. But if any change is going to happen, we will all need to play our part. With me today, is a young lady. You may have heard of her many exploits against the Weardian, against the Empress herself. I say, if anyone is going to bring about change, it will be her and us together!” the crowd applauded louder now. Mr Attorcop was setting them up beautifully, Lilian only hoped she would live up to expectations. “I do not wish to speak for her,” he continued, “but I know that she is ready to do what must be done to make the city and all of the western country, a better place. So without further words, please join me in welcoming her back to Freedos.” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Lilian was taken aback, her time had come to take the stage. She stepped forward and took a deep breath.

An expectant silence fell upon the crowd. Lilian quickly scanned a hundred different faces, a hundred pairs of eyes looking at her with a thousand different emotions. A bead of cold sweat ran down from her hairline beneath her helmet. She wanted to speak… but she couldn’t. Thoughts jumbled and language eluded her. She saw the woman she had waved at before, she was three rows behind the children who had pushed their way to the front. She had a worried expression. As Lilian locked eyes with her, her face seemed to will her to speak. With words, still not coming, Lilian grew even more nervous. And so the woman spoke, not too loudly, but loud enough to be heard.

“What’s your name?” Lilian pondered the question.

“My name?” she repeated and suddenly the words were back, “my name… shouldn’t matter. I could be any one of you. So say my name is fear. I’m scared for myself and for my friends and family, just as you are all scared for yours. My name could be frustration and fury. Anger at how those who are supposed to govern and look after us but who are instead neglecting and persecuting us.” A few heads in the crowd began to nod in agreement. “My name is resistance then, not through fighting necessarily, Liebling knows I’m no soldier, but through small acts of defiance that collectively declare that we’ve had enough!” A murmur spread through the square. Then, from the corner of her eye, Lilian saw three soldiers turn a corner and step into the square. They had looks of trepidation and their hands hovered above their sword hilts. “My name is understanding, for I know that we all do what we think is right to protect the ones we love.” She aimed this statement at the soldiers, in the hope that compassion might stay their wrath. When they looked up at her to listen, Lilian continued, finding the words coming easily now. “We all know someone who worked as Weardian just as we have sons, daughters and friends in the army. But these people must now make a choice, just as we all must as well. For my name is revolution. I’m in the air and in the hearts of everyone around me. I come from discontent and mistreatment and my time is right now, today. When it comes to the Empress, my name is vengeance and by the end of tonight, she will look me in the eye and she will know me.”

A cheer roared up from the crowd. Lilian’s chest swelled with pride at the site. A few people stepped forward and took her hand to shake it. Lilian did so but remembered something she’d wanted to say and after bidding hello to the smiling strangers she raised her arms once more to signal for quiet.

“Please, just one more thing. I do not wish anyone to come to harm, just being here today is sign enough to all that you’re willing for things to be different. Do not engage the army, do not storm the palace, leave all of that to us.” This caused some confused and even worried expressions. One man with a red beard barked a reply,

“And if you fail?” he said, “what then? Are we to keep on living as we are? We’re ready to fight.” This caused a round of nods and agreements from the crowd surrounding him. Lilian shook her head and smiled her most reassuring smile.

“Resist in your own way. Leave the fight to us and I promise you, we will not fail.”

Four hours later they were in the Rare Flower Market. Peter had been keen to get back and relieve himself of his bags and Mr Attorcop had thought it unwise to return to the same location. Whilst Peter and Katrina busied themselves in the back room unpacking and bickering about how much Peter had spent in Zandt; Lilian, William, Genevive and Mr Attorcop sat on wicker chairs amongst the tall shelves while Fritha lay on the floor by Lilian’s side. Lilian glanced around at the many jars about her. She noticed that many were looking worryingly empty. It must be tough to get the materials with the army watching everything that was coming in and out of the city.

“I thought it was an excellent speech,” Mr Attorcop was saying, “a touch emotional for my tastes, but it certainly did the trick.” Lilian shot him a smile. She had been proud of herself back then and knew that Mr Attorcop could not resist teasing her.

“So what now? Wait until nightfall and then storm the palace?” William asked. Mr Attorcop considered the question.

“Not quite. Although there is something to be said for a direct approach. Our best bet is to infiltrate the walls covertly. Either go over them undercover of darkness or through a gate unseen.” As he said this last word his gaze fell on Lilian. Lilian twisted uncomfortably in her seat, looking everywhere other than Mr Attorcop’s eyes. She knew he would not blame her, but all the same, Lilian was having difficulty admitting she was not comfortable with trying gloaming again soon. A flash of the sharp, burning pain ran through her mind and she shuddered. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

“Even if I did manage to sneak past the soldiers on guard, how would you all get through?” It was Genevive who answered this.

“In one of the gardens, at the back of the palace, there is a small but sturdy iron door. It is bolted from the inside and probably has not been opened in thirty years. It’s mostly covered in vines, but I’ve seen it there and I know it leads out into the cemetery at the top of Fyremont.” Lilian became excited.

“Well, why don’t we just knock the door down or something? That would avoid having to sneak past any guards all together.” Genevive looked solem and shook her head.

“The bolt is big my love, bigger than my arm and it’s buried deep in the wall. We could be ten men with a battering ram and it would still take us several hours.” Lilian’s heart sank. So it would be up to her after all. Would the pain come back, she wondered. Perhaps if she started now and gave herself a long time…

“I… I just…” she started speaking and Mr Attorcop interrupted.

“Lilian. It’s alright. We’ll find another way.” she smiled but still felt like she was letting everyone down. If this had been a few weeks ago then she would be bounding up there right now, unseen and unheard. But something had changed inside her, and she did not have the time to find out what or why. William broke the tension.

“So we can’t go over the wall, that’s too high. We can't go under it as we have no time, and we can’t get past the soldiers on guard at the gates…” His face contorted in thought, “that is a tricky one.”

Just then, Peter sauntered in from the back room, a look of triumph plastered across his cheeky face. He brandished a jar, roughly the size of a melon, high above his head that seemed to be filled with black dust.

“Or we go through it!” he exclaimed. His entrance and proclamation were met with silence and blank stares. Peter tried again, “Or we go through it!”

“What are you talking about?” said Lilian after wondering briefly if Peter had gone mad.

“You say we’d need a battering ram and ten people,” he said looking at Genevive, “but this jar could do all that and more. Trust me, if we need to get through something big or heavy, this is what we need.” The group leaned in to study the jar. Lilian recognised the scent of rotten eggs coming from it. The jar must contain some of that powder he’d bought in the Zandt marketplace. Mr Attorcop seemed to recognise the smell as well,

“Is that…?”

“Yup!” decried Peter, “got the charcoal from the fireplace in the kitchen and mixed the rest of it just now. I didn’t think I’d be using it this quickly but there’s still some left if we need it again.” Mr Attorcop smiled.

“Very well then. Yes I think this should do nicely, well done Peter. It will cause a rather loud noise so we’ll have to be ready for soldiers coming to investigate. But… yes. I think we might be ready.” he stared at the small group in front of him, a look of devilish mischief in his eyes. “What started as a hunt for answers has become something bigger than all of us. We’ve all been inconvenienced at best and terrified for our lives at worst by the way things in Freedos are run. It took poor Fritha here getting horribly injured to make us realise that The Empress and her ilk have been treating the people of this city as inferior for too long. We are not machines built to funnel money up the mount and into the palace coffers. We are fed up and tonight we change things, forever. Get some rest, sleep if you can, for when darkness falls we shall climb the hill.”

Not long after, Lilian was lying on some soft sacks filled with hay at the back of the shop, trying to rest. It was mid-afternoon and she was too nervous and excited to sleep. Fritha was beside her on the sacks and she had managed to drift off without any trouble. Lilian listened to her gentle snoring and watched her coat cycle through blues, blacks and browns. Lilian shut her eyes and placed her left hand on Fritha’s back. She slowed her breathing and slipped into focus. Being so close to the feinhound meant that Fritha’s heartbeat suddenly boomed like a drum in Lilian’s extra sensitive ears. As she had done so many times before, she flipped her focus inwards and found the golden light coming from her own heart. She coaxed some of it easily to the tips of her fingers and said a little prayer that everything would be okay. But as soon as the first few drops of golden lights left her hand then that searing, burning pain swept through her body at lightning speed. It was like touching a hot stove or pan, but instead of the pain coming from just one place, it was all over her, all at once. It seemed to be worst in her right arm, but Lilian didn’t stay in that state for long enough to explore why. She shut her thoughts off from gloaming and snatched her hand away from Fritha’s back. Fritha, sensing the sudden movement, woke up and twisted her big head back to look at Lilian. Lilian’s heart was pounding, she was worried sick and scared to the pit of her stomach. Fritha sensed this and focused her large, cat-like eyes on Lilian’s sweat-stained face. They were hard to read, but Lilian thought she could detect concern on her furry friend’s face. Fritha stretched and twisted further and extended her long purple tongue to lick Lilian’s cheek softly. She breathed out a long sigh through her black, wet nose. Lilian touched her head and scratched behind her ears.

“Oh lady,” she whispered, “what have I done?”

As night fell across the city the group rose from the depths of the rare flower market and stepped into the pale moonlight. It was cold, but Lilian didn’t mind. The cold was familiar to her and she greeted it as an old friend. The atmosphere in Freedos was one of anticipation. Candles burned in windows and fingers twitched at curtain edges, the folk inside, desperate for a glimpse of the few brave people who were stealing into the dark to take back their city. Katrina and Genevive had stayed behind and so it was William, Peter, Mr Attorcop, Fritha and Lilian who stalked the cobbled streets in silence, listening intently for any signs of soldiers. Lilian looked up and saw flame lit faces peering down at them from the tall apartment windows. She saw children, friends, families and older citizens beaming and egging them on. Lilian smiled up at them all and repeated a silent promise that she would not let them down. She felt nervous but had to admit that there was excitement there as well. Fritha seemed happy to be out and about, but even the fabled feinhound walked with an extra sense of purpose in her padded steps. Mr Attorcop led the way and the group marched on in quiet determination.

Just as the muscles in their legs began to burn from climbing, the old volcano levelled out and they had reached Fyremont. The buildings became more ornate and the colours more vibrant as they made their way into the richest part of the city that wasn’t directly within the palace walls. They took a left down a small street, barely wide enough for two horses to pass each other, and came out of the other end in plain view of the cemetery. It was an old place, officially called Elska’s Place of Rest. Elska was the woman from the stories who cared for those that died or for those that lost someone close to them. The cemetery was enclosed by a small fence and so they passed through a wooden lychgate decorated with flowers to access the main cemetery. Just beyond the entrance was a marble statue of Elska herself, her hands stretched out in front of her as if welcoming you and offering assistance. The group pressed on, entering the labyrinth of tombs and mausoleums. Mr Attorcop knew the way and Lilian tried not to get distracted by the size and opulence of the crypts. Each one was carved more beautifully than the last, with stone animals frozen in play, serene marble faces carved in pearly white and the family names lovingly chiselled into stone. These were the final resting places of the old and wealthy Freedos families. Even in death, thought Lilian, they live better than the poor.

Mr Attorcop’s dark starry cloak pulled dry and crackling leaves along with him as he strode ahead. After a few minutes of twisting and turning through tomb lined pathways he stopped suddenly in his tracks. Lilian caught up to him and saw what had caused the halt. A few yards ahead of them was a large wall, dark, flat, imposing and twenty feet high. Beyond its top Lilian could just about make out the palace spires and above them, the silver moon. At the base of the wall was a large iron door, shrouded in vines and menacing in the moonlight. Around the door however was a very strange site. There was a group of soldiers, at least twenty, all strewn across the floor in various levels of incapacitation. A few of them were tied up and gagged with rags, several seemed to be knocked out completely, face down on the flagstones like forgotten toys. It seems they had been posted there to intercept anyone trying to enter the door, but they had been bested. And recently. Lilian noticed movement from the corner of her eye and she and Mr Attorcop went quickly into defensive stances. Three men emerged from behind a mausoleum. Lilian narrowed her eyes and studied them in the dim light. One of them seemed familiar to her. As they approached however, Lilian began to feel worried. Each of them was wiping a strange, purple ichor out from around their eyes. The man in the middle approached them and raised his hand in greeting.

“Good evening,” he said and Lilian instantly recognised his voice.

“Genero?” she exclaimed.

“The very same!” he stumbled a little as they approached. Clearly he was in the middle of recovering from the fight. “Couldn’t let you lot have all the fun now could we? May it never be said that The Sons of Taymar did not show when the need arose.” Lilian scowled.

“You didn’t show! You were supposed to stop that awful man from selling Nightshade and instead you bought some and disappeared!” it was all she could do to not stamp her foot.

“Ah, you, remember that do you? Ahem… Well I’m a changed man Lilian and I hope that my actions,” he gestured to the bruised and battered soldiers all around him, “will speak for themselves.” Lilian continued to scowl and mumbled something inaudible under her breath.

“I think what my friend is trying to say is ‘thank you’, Mr…” said Mr Attorcop.

“Genaro, Alexi Genaro, founder and leader of The Sons of…”

“Taymar, yes so I gather. This lot cause you much trouble?” he gestured to Peter and they proceeded to step over the soldiers where they lay and headed for the iron door. Genaro turned and led the way.

“A few scratches here and there but nothing we can’t handle. They were surprised to see us though. I think they were expecting to have to fight an old man and a little girl.” Lilian felt like challenging him just so that she could show him what this ‘little girl’ was capable of, but she held her tongue. Genaro and his friends had done them a great service, but it would take more than a few unconscious soldiers to earn her forgiveness, especially if he continued to refer to her as just a little girl.

“I’m sure you gave them quite the shock. Peter, would you be so kind and arrange the, hrm, package?”

“Gladly sir,” said Peter as he bounded towards the door and began reaching into his bag for various materials.

“We’ve had a go at it already,” said Genaro, swaying a little from side to side as he spoke, “damn thing is near impenetrable. We thought you might try to get in this way so we came here on the off chance. Seems like our friends had the same idea.” Mr Attorcop turned around and began to usher them all back.

“Well it’s a good job you came when you did. Now if you will all kindly head back to that row over there we should be able to have it open soon enough.” Genaro looked as though he was about to protest but Mr Attorcop already had his hand in the small of his back and was shoving him gently away from the door. The group went back a fair distance and took cover behind a crypt. Lilian strained her eyes and peered into the darkness. In the distance she saw a fizzing flicker of light. Seconds later, Peter was running at full speed towards them. He managed to find cover behind a large tomb nearby and just as he hit the floor, he put his fingers in his ears. Lilian did the same and was glad that she did, because a moment later a deafening bang echoed out from the wall and rolled through the cemetery and down the mountain. Lilian unplugged her ears and nearly laughed at the shock. She glanced over at Mr Attorcop who had his eyes trained on the rising smoke.

“We’re in.”

Episode 48

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the pouring rain, near the eastern gate, the mural of Lilian and Fritha stood tall and shimmering in the moonlight. There was no mistaking the likeness. But what did it mean? A thousand questions ran through Lilian’s mind but before she could speak any out loud a voice from behind them caught her attention. It was deep, and serious.

“You there!” Lilian, Peter, Serena and Fritha all turned at once to see two soldiers walking towards them. The one who had spoken, continued, “it’s nearly curfew. You should all be indoors…” he stopped mid sentence and mid stride. His eyes widened as they flicked between the mural and Lilian’s face. “Twelve hells,” he muttered.

Lilian, sprang to action. Splashing through the puddles she was beside the soldiers before they even had time to draw their swords. Lilian used a modified 7th stance, 2nd movement to jump the last few feet and kick the first soldier's right hand so that his sword went back into its scabbard. This meant she could twist easily around and block the other man’s sword from striking her. She managed to catch his arm, twist his wrist and slap the blade clean out of his grip, sending it crashing and splashing to the floor. She could sense their panic, their inexperience and she took full advantage of both. The first soldier was still fixated on getting his sword out, believing this would save him, but Lilian kicked it back in, this time catching the man’s left hip crease, causing him to stumble back. There to grab his coat was Fritha. Lilian saw the terror in his eyes as she yanked him backwards, forcing him to ground. She bared her teeth as she stepped on his shoulder and stood over him. The second soldier was also on the floor, scrambling in the muck to find his sword. As soon as he managed to clasp its handle however, Lilian's foot was on the blade, trapping his fingers against the paving stone. He looked up at her.

“You won’t get away with this,” he said through gritted teeth, “we’ll notify the Empress.” Lilian wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so she simply said,

“Good,” before performing a 1st stance, 3rd form twisting punch to his chin, and knocking him out cold.

The first soldier was still stuck under a 180 pounds of feihnhoud, wriggling and writhing to try and break free. Lilian bent down to pick up the sword at her feet and approached him.

“Get this beast off of me…” she heard him say from beneath layers of wet, black fur.

“Fritha, enough,” ordered Lilian. Fritha stepped away but as the soldier went to stand, he was met by the tip of his colleague's sword, touching his throat. He froze.

“Stay here for ten minutes,” said Lilian, “don’t follow us.” The grown man swallowed and nodded slowly. Lilian, her gaze still fixed on his eyes, bent down and finally took his sword from its sheath.

“Please,” he said, “they’ll dock our pay.”

“Then you should quit,” replied Lilian, before turning around and breaking into a run, a sword in each hand. She waved at her friends to follow and a few minutes later, they were navigating the backstreets of Old Town, looking for shelter.

“Impressively handled,” said Peter as he overtook her and began guiding them to the inn. Lilian had acted mostly on instinct, the mural still troubling her conscious mind. She snapped back to reality and slid the swords into a gutter. “It’s just here,” she heard Peter whisper up ahead. As they turned the corner, Lilian smiled in delight. The inn Peter had been leading them to was none other than The Greedy Goose, the first inn Lilian had stayed at after meeting Katherine. Her heart swelled with happy sadness. She thought of Katherine and her kindness and remembered the warm welcome The Goose had given her and Fritha. The feeling cut even deeper when compared with these cold, strange circumstances. Peter pushed the door open and Lilian was glad to see that the fire was lit. The room was quieter than she remembered, but a friendly face popped up from behind the serving counter as they entered.

“Good evening, you’re just in time. We were about to lock the… oh my stars.” The woman, who Lilian remembered was called Beatrice, stared at their group, dumbfounded.

“Hello Beatrice, it’s been some time.” It took a few seconds for Beatrice to find her voice.

“It’s Lilian, isn’t it? And your strange dog. You stayed here nigh a year back,” she came out from behind the counter, “oh it’s all anyone’s talking about. People been coming here just to sit where you sat. I tells em you sat all over but they seem to like this table here. Look, the wood is still chipped from where Fritha chewed it.” She gestured to a battered table leg in the corner. Lilian was still very confused.

“Beatrice, we couldn’t stay the night could we?”

“My dearest girl,” replied the landlady, “you stay as long as you like! Amount o’ business you brought me these past weeks I should think you and your friends can stay for nought. Aye you keep your purses where I can’t see em, your money ain’t no good here. Sit, sit by the fire, I’ll fetch some stew to warm your cockles and souls.” The three friends exchanged looks of confusion and went to sit by the fire.

The heat was a welcome relief from the bitter rain. The party removed their cloaks and hung them by the fire, Fritha flopped down onto the rug by the hearth and Lilian, Peter and Serena sat and waited on the large sofas nearby.

“Right, seeing as no one else is saying it, I’ll go ahead,” Serena piped up, “what on earth is going on?” Peter shrugged.

“Some kind of martial law by the looks of things. Although what Lilian’s got to do with it, I’ve no idea.” Just then, Beatrice came back holding a tray with four bowls on it, filled to the brim with a sweet smelling broth. She set the tray down and took a bowl to Fritha while the others thanked her and reached for theirs. Lilian breathed in the sweet scent before eagerly tucking in. It tasted divine, the sweetness of the vegetables perfectly balanced by the salted beef. Lilian nearly burned the roof of her mouth in her eagerness to devour the meal. After a few bites, Lilian came to her senses and finally asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“Beatrice,” she said, her mouth full of carrot, “Can I ask: What’s going on?”

“What do you mean my love?” said their hostess, as she went about pushing a few seats under tables.

“Well, why are there soldiers everywhere? Why is there a curfew and why is there a massive painting of me and Fritha on the wall by the easter gate?” Beatrice chuckled,

“Not just that wall my darling. Oh… oh o’course, you been gone. Hm…” her face contorted into a look of concentration. “Well, oh seven heavens, where to begin…” She pulled a chair towards them, sat down, and took a deep breath.

“I suppose it started that day of the fire. Everyone heard about it. The Weardian headquarters burned down, nigh on exploded judging from the people who saw it. People started asking what happened, officially it was a spark from a fireplace, but that stank of lies. Little spark exploding a whole building and everyone in it? Codswallop. But then, the other story began to spread. The one of the little girl with red hair. The one with the strange beast always by her side. She was seen there, she fought the weardian, she exploded the building and freed all of them imprisoned inside. Of all the brave men in this city, it was a young woman who freed us. People rejoiced, started painting your pictures, singing your praises. They’d come in here and sit over there just to be where’d you’d been. Our liberator. Resist, was the word. And now it had meaning. The rest of the Weardian were chased away, and Freedos was ours again. Only the Empress, she didn’t like that. She called the army back from the front and now we’ve got curfews and checkpoints and soldiers breathing down our necks. But the word lives on. Resist. We whisper it like the breath that fans the flames. Little acts of bravery where before there was only cowardice. You’re a hero, Lilian, an inspiration, and Liebling knows we needed one.”

Lilian had stopped eating. The story was only partly true. Lilian had been there but she’d had nothing to do with the explosion. She felt like correcting Beatrice but something in her expression stopped her. Despite the rain, despite the curfew and military presence, Beatrice looked genuinely happy. Thrilled even. Her face was the picture of hope and Lilian didn’t have the heart to take that away. She looked over at Peter and Serena who both looked how she felt. Their eyes were wide in shock and amazement. Lilian had only one thought which she spoke aloud once Beatrice had finished her story,

“I need to see Cromwell.”

They spent the night in the Greedy Goose’s comfortable rooms. Lilian insisted on having the one she’d stayed in when she’d first arrived, despite Beatrice’s protestations that she have the largest room at the inn. Serena gladly accepted that offer on her behalf. Lilian found the little bed and enjoyed reminiscing about the day she’d met Katherine and how she’d discovered the vial of Lunar Essence hidden in Kissandra’s blade. Her head was full of memories and questions, but sleep quickly drove them out.

The next morning they donned their hooded cloaks and bid farewell to Beatrice and her husband. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still overcast. Lilian decided to wear her hood up, not wanting to risk her red hair giving her away. It was still early when they left The Greedy Goose so the streets were still relatively empty. They were heading for Mr Twitchett’s basement and so took the small winding, cobbled streets up through the Old Town. They passed more graffiti on the way, words like ‘resist’ or ‘smash’ and even one that said ‘she fights for you, so fight for her’ with a picture of a red haired girl beside it. At one point, they turned off the main road only to look back at Serena, standing still and gazing up the hill.

“Serena?” Peter approached her. She looked at him with sorrow in her eyes.

“I should be heading back. My footman went ahead of us so mother will be expecting me.” Her tone was hesitant. Peter glanced back at Lilian before going over to her. He said something in a low voice that Lilian did not catch. It was clear from her body language that Serena was extremely reluctant to leave them. The world of the nobility, lavish as it was, held sour memories and a bitter future for her. Lilian was about to go over and explain that all of that would change within the next few days. They were going to topple the Empress from her throne and the poor folk of Freedos would get a say in how things are run and how they are treated. The nobles would need to get used to some changes, but all would be better in the end. Lilian took a step towards Peter and Serena, she even started to say something, when she froze. Peter had taken Serena’s waist and pulled her close to him and before Lilian could utter a word, they were kissing. Lilian, not knowing what to do, looked down at Fritha. The feinhound looked as bewildered as she was. The kiss did not last long, but Serena was smiling when it finished. She broke away, waved at Lilian, muttered a promise to Peter and with a whirl of cotton cloak, she was gone.

Peter walked slowly back to where Lilian and Fritha were standing. His face was red and grinning.

“What?” he asked.

“No, nothing. I just… no no. Shall we, um, keep going?” she said.

“Lead the way,” he gestured forwards and they resumed their journey, “sorry if that was a shock,”

“No need to be sorry, I was just, yeah I didn’t think you two. It’s good though, she’s great and you’re… yeah you’re great so. Great!” Lilian felt her cheeks flush, she was not familiar with the world of romantic feelings. Peter smiled.

“You didn’t realise while we were in Zandt...” Lilian thought back. A few things quickly fell into place in her mind, but she had to admit that she had been so preoccupied with her own feelings that she had not noticed those of her friends. They laughed at her obliviousness and shared fond memories of their time in the sandy city. Ten minutes later though, they were at Mr Twitchett’s basement and the conversation turned to more serious matters.

“Do you think he’s in?” Peter asked as they approached the trap door.

“Only one way to find out.” Lilian stomped on the door three times, stood back, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Peter grew impatient.

“It might be open.” He took a step forward and grabbed the metal ring that was bolted to the wood. To their surprise, the trap swung open in a wide arc. There was no light coming from inside. Lilian felt Fritha wriggle past them and failed to grab her before she headed straight down and disappeared into the darkness.

“Lady! No!” Without another second’s hesitation, Lilian went after her. It was rare for the lights to be off and for the trap to be unlocked, but Lilian had to put her trepidations aside lest Fritha come to harm. The stairs creaked under her weight and Lilian squinted into the darkness.

“Hello?” she said, “is… is there anybody there?” Suddenly a bright light filled the room. It was so sudden that Lilian instinctively went into a guard position and shielded her eyes from its source.

“Lilian?” a familiar voice spoke her name and once her eyes had adjusted Lilian saw the dark form of Mr Attorcop walking across the basement floor towards her.

“Cromwell!” she beamed and jumped the last few steps towards him, crashing into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Fritha clanged some happy chimes and the trio were reunited.

“It’s good to see you,” said Mr Attorcop.

“And you,” she released him from the hug and examined his face. It had only been a few weeks, but he seemed markedly older than when she’d left. His eyes were framed by a few more lines and his cheeks seemed thinner. But he was smiling, and so Lilian was happy. “What are you doing in the dark?” she asked.

“A security measure, I’m afraid. We can’t be taking any risks these days.”

“We?” Lilian looked past him and saw Katrina and William, beaming and waving.

“Mum!” Peter dropped his bags to the floor, ran past them and went to hug his mother. Lilian greeted William and then looked past him, expecting to see someone else.

“Where’s Katherine?” the happy atmosphere was punctured by the question. William shared a sorrowful look with Mr Attorcop.

“Why don’t you take a seat Lily,” he said in his most calming voice, “we have a lot to tell you.”

Peter was sent to fetch food and when he came back with an armful of sandwiches, pies and sweet breads, the group caught up. Lilian told them about what they had been doing in Zandt, with Peter adding the occasional detail. They mentioned their new found friendship with Serena, but nothing more. Mr Attorcop was keen to know more about her and congratulated them on finding an ally in the nobility. Lilian saw her more as a friend than an ally, but ever since coming back to Freedos, things did seem a little more military than usual. On that note, Mr Attorcop informed them that the army had been called in a couple of weeks after Lilian had left the city and after the Weardian had given up their positions as guardians.

“It was a harsh measure, but one we knew The Empress was capable of,” said Mr Attorcop, “While on the one hand it makes life difficult for the citizens of the city, it does help us a little.”

“How’s that?” asked Lilian,

“It tells us that she is desperate. She’s playing her last card. If we can beat it, then we can win.” Lilian nodded, sagely. She wanted to ask how they would go about doing that, but one burning question still hadn’t been answered.

“Where is Katherine?” she turned to look at William, his face fell at the asking.

“There were still some Weardian left after… After what Zadoch did. They knew that they couldn’t catch and keep a member of the holy solar order, let alone one as high ranking as Zadoch. They also knew that he would not have done what he did without having been asked. Witnesses saw you and Katherine there and so it didn’t take them long to figure out that it was she…” he trailed off and looked down at the floor. Lilian protested,

“But, she didn’t know, she was worried about me, not about…”

“It didn’t matter,” William cut her off, “members of the order cannot act without being asked. Zadoch acted as he saw fit but it was Katherine who bore the brunt of the punishment. She was arrested by a man called Taymore Brown. A captain of the Weardian.” The name wrung bells in Lilian’s head.

“Taymor… Brown? That’s Katherine’s surname.” William nodded.

“Yes. He’s her husband.”

Lilian’s stomach dropped. She’d seen him on the office floor of the Weardian headquarters. The man with the stern, angular face. Even then she knew that she recognised him. But he wasn’t some officer she had seen patrolling the streets, he had been with Katherine the day she had met her. Lilian had seen them together whilst trying to steal a loaf of bread.

“He’s her husband?” she exclaimed. William nodded.

“They didn’t talk much, even before the arrest but still, I think it broke his heart to do it.”

“So, where is she now?” she asked. Mr Attorcop took over.

“She’s being held in the tower.” Lilian had never been to the lonely, desolate prison on the marshes north of the city. It wasn’t the kind of place you visited as a tourist. She thought of her friend in a cold and damp cell, afraid and alone. Anger bubbled up inside her.

“If I ever see Zadoch again I’m going to thump him.” Mr Attorcop looked at her sternly.

“I highly advise against that. But yes, he would deserve it. However…” Katrina interrupted her friend.

“Don’t start with that Cromwell.”

“All I’m saying is, think of where we would be without him. Lilian might be dead and I would surely still be in a Weardian cell.” he looked back at Lilian, “Katherine is strong. We will find her, you have my word.” Lilian bit her tongue. She would have to be patient, something she had never been very good at.

“So,” she said, shaking off the creeping feeling of hopelessness, “what do we do now? What’s the plan? Oh, and why are there pictures of me all over the city?” Mr Attorcop leaned back in his chair and smirked. It was that annoying smile he used whenever he knew something you didn’t.

“Yes, that was partly my doing.” Lilian didn’t understand.

“You painted them?”

“Goodness no,” he replied, “I’m a terrible artist. But one thing I am good at, as I told you when we first met, is the manipulation of power. I knew that if we were to succeed in this endeavour, we would need the people’s support. And what better way to get that than to give them someone to fight for.” Lilian was beginning to understand. Mr Attorcop continued. “A few stories in the right places and word of your exploits quickly spread. You’ve become a bit of a legend while you’ve been away. And I’ll admit, I’m rather proud of the work.” Katrina scoffed,

“I said he should have asked your permission first.” The two friends looked at each other and Katrina relented, rolling her eyes at Mr Attorcop’s self assurance, “but I’ll admit it is rather clever. We knew the Empress had you in her sights already. This way might make it a bit more difficult for you to go about the city unnoticed, but it protects you from her as well.”

“How?” asked Lilian.

“If the whole city loves you and the Empress harms a hair on your head then she would give them further reason to despise her. What Cromwell has done is trap her. I would respect the tactic more if he wasn’t so smug about it.” Lilian smiled at her mentor. Of course it had all been his doing. Not only that, but he’d done it, in his own twisted way, to protect her. “As to your earlier question, we do have a plan and the sooner we act on it, the better…” At that moment a sound from the back of the room drew Lilian’s attention away from the conversation. She looked up to see where it had come from. It was a scratching, rattling noise and the others had noticed it too. Mr Attorcop put a finger up to his lips, signalling for the group to keep quiet. Lilian searched the darkness at the other end of the basement and her eyes fell on the small door in the far wall. She had almost forgotten that it was there. They had never managed to get it open in all their time there and Lilian had just assumed it would be more storage space. But right now, someone or something was in there, and it was twisting the handle to get out.

Lilian stood up and walked towards the door, readying her feet and fists for a fight. There was a loud click and the little door swung open.

“Hello? Am I too late?” A familiar voice came from beyond the door and soon after a friendly face appeared. Lilian was shocked and delighted.

“Genevive!?” The young noblewoman stepped into the basement and smiled.

“Hello Lilian! It’s so good to see you.” Lilian ran over to hug her. She was wearing high waisted cotton trousers and a pink shirt and she was carrying a rather large bag which she had to set down before hugging Lilian back.

“How did you…?” Lilian gestured to the door in confusion. Mr Attorcop explained,

“I managed to get it open a few weeks ago. It was a corridor that lead to nowhere. I did some construction work upwards and popped up in a small park a few hundred feet away. We’ve been using it as an entrance.” Lilian smiled, “it was actually Bried who gave me the idea. I knew she had someone watching the trap door so we needed another way to access the space. I’ll show you where it comes out later.” Lilian half expected more people to pop out of the wardrobes and desks but she was content with her seeing her new friend.

“I have so much to tell you! I made friends with Serena Bellaswan. You remember her from the party?”

“Oh yes I remember, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. But first my dear…” Genevive reached down and grabbed the large bag. It was black and tied together with thin rope, “I have something for you.” Lilian stepped back in confusion.

“For me?” a pang of guilt hit her suddenly. She hadn’t brought back anything from Zandt, they had left in such a hurry, souvenirs had not been on her list of priorities, “I’m sorry, I haven’t got you anything.” Genevive waved the comment away,

“Oh, don’t worry about that. This is more of a practical gift anyway, come.” She took her over to one of the large tables by the wall. Judging by the way she hoisted the bag onto it, its contents were heavy. Lilian was curious.

“Genevive made herself known to us soon after you left, she has been an incredible asset to our cause.” Mr Attorcop explained.

“Oh I’m just doing what anyone would do in my situation,” she replied. Mr Attorcop shook his head.

“You’re too modest,” he replied.

“Well, let me show you what I’ve made and then we will judge.” The others gathered round while Genevive undid the strings and unfolded the bag. The material spread across the table revealing several objects kept inside. Light reflected off them and onto Genevive’s face.

“There, what do you think?”

Lilian examined the contents of the bag with rapt attention. In front of her, broken down into various elements, all shimmering silver polished to a shine was a suit of armour. Her eyes widened as she leant forward to examine the details. The breastplate was the largest item. Smaller than most she had seen and mounted on boiled leather it looked like it would fit her form perfectly, once the straps connecting it to the back piece had been tightened. It was layered to allow for movement making the lower half look like scales or interlocking reptilian plates. There were leg braces, anklets and wrist guards too. All these were decorated with beautifully intricate swirls and shapes. Lilian recognised some symbols from the Stave Church walls in Benlunar, and knew that Genevive would have taken the time to research the art of her hometown. Her vitals would be protected but her joints would be free to allow for more movement. The most arresting item however, was the helmet. Lilian reached out and picked it up.

“Well… do you like it?” Genevive sounded nervous. Lilian wanted to speak but was having trouble finding the words.

“It’s… it’s incredible.” She was turning the helmet around in her hands, examining every detail of the animal it resembled. Should she put it on, her face would look out through the jaws, her chin protected by the strap of beaten silver teeth. The creature’s expression above was a perfect mixture of fierceness and serenity. Fritha appeared beside her, curious to see what everyone was looking at. Lilian brought the helmet down to show her.

“Look Fritha. It’s you.”

Episode 47

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The next day, Lilian went to meet Mistress Eleyna in the southern quarter of Zandt. The buildings were built slightly taller here and although they had originally been painted white, many of their walls were now adorned with works of art. On their way to the address they had been given, Lilian and Fritha walked past giant murals depicting veiled faces, thousands of flowers and even the occasional mythical creature. Lilian was glad for the distractions. She had been debating the idea of getting a tattoo all night. Peter had been against it, claiming the chemicals used in certain inks were untested and dangerous. Serena was intrigued and had instantly asked about what design Lilian would choose. Lilian still wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted the tattoo, let alone what design she would get. Mistress Eleyna had assured her that it was just a silly tradition and that there were many people who never got one. But Lilian had worked very hard these past few weeks and she felt as though that effort warranted some sort of commemoration. Besides, the idea of a tattoo had secretly been brewing in her mind for a while now, long before she arrived in Zandt. It was for this reason she had brought along the jar of earth that Mr Attorcop had brought back from the dead forest. She had spoken to Peter about it last night and they had agreed that while potentially dangerous, the mixture of dead earth and lunar essence could make for a powerful substance.

“You know tattoos are placed under the skin right?” Peter had said, “so that means that if you use this as ink, you’ll be getting it into your blood.” Lilian had considered the risks all night. If they had not had their supply of lunar essence stolen from them, Lilian might have reconsidered. But if there was even a slight chance that her plan would work, she knew she had to take it. The vial of essence jangled against the jar of earth in her shoulder bag as Lilian hopped up a flight of steps lined in copper coloured clay. If Mistress Eleyna’s instructions were to be trusted, the meeting point would be just up here and around the corner.

Lilian walked past two young women who were chatting on a step. She glanced briefly at their arms and shoulders, they were covered with intricate floral designs. Lilian was reminded of the palace gardens in Freedos, only these were monochrome dark brown with too many swirls and pathways to count. They smiled at her as she walked past and Lilian smiled back. Fearing being late she decided to turn back and ask them for directions, if anyone would know where the parlour was, surely they would. One of them looked confused and glanced at her friend, she knew more of Lilian’s language and replied in her broken speech.

“Yes. Tattoach. Up on… er… balcon. Balcony.” She pointed up the stairs and Lilian recognised the word ‘balcony’. She bowed her thanks and sped on up the steps. After a few more twists and turns, she found the balcony they were speaking of.

It had to be reached via a ladder which was wrapped in vines and nearly invisible to the un-searching eye. In fact, if Lilian hadn’t heard Mistress Eleyna’s stern voice coming from somewhere above her, she might have walked past the ladder and missed the balcony altogether.

“Ah, Lilian! You found us.” Mistress Eleyna greeted her with a smile as Lilian's head popped up over the railing. Fritha was having difficulty climbing the ladder so a large basket was dropped down using a winch, the arm of which swung out over the edge of the balcony. Lilian guessed it was used for transporting supplies but Fritha seemed happy enough to get in the basket and be hoisted skywards like a bag of multicoloured fruit. It wasn’t until Fritha was safely retrieved that Lilian noticed the view from where they were. The balcony looked out over the entire southern quarter of the city and from this height, Lilian could see the colours of the hundreds of rooftop gardens stretching out into the distance and turning the white city into a jungle of luscious greens, reds and yellows.

“You must be Lilian.” A voice drew her attention to the dark doorway behind her. A man was there, short and smiling. He wore white, loose fitting trousers and no shirt. His dark tanned body was littered with images and designs. The colours used in his tattoos were more vibrant and vivid than any Lilian had ever seen. Her eye was drawn to a particularly bright bird on his left shoulder, it’s wings were red and tinted with what looked like gold. There was a dog with a sad expression on his lower right side and his right arm was the perfect pictorial representation of a park scene. Lilian could see the hanging pink flowers of a cherry blossom reflected perfectly in the rippling water of the pond beneath it.

“Yes! Sorry. Yes I’m Lilian.”

“Welcome,” he replied, “I’m Hafiz, please, come in.” Lilian felt a pang of nerves flare up in her stomach. Hafiz seemed friendly and judging by his own body, certainly talented, but Lilian was still unsure. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Mistress Eleyna, smiling down at her.

“Lilian, you know you don’t have to get anything, yes? Hafiz does not care either way.” Lilian smiled, glad for the reassurance.

“Thank you. I know.” They both stepped inside, out of the glaring sun. It took a few seconds for Lilian’s eyes to adjust, but once they had, she was met with a charming site.

The room was larger than she had expected, filled to bursting with art work on every wall, sculptures on every table and the smell of incense and oil paint hanging in the air. Hafiz was bustling around a large chair, cleaning some equipment.

“So,” he spoke with a piece of charcoal hanging out of one side of his mouth, “Eleyna says you are a fighter?” Lilian nodded while looking at an unfinished painting of a cottage, resting on an easel. “Hmm,” he replied, “I’m more of an artist than a fighter. But I suppose there is some artistry in fighting.” He smiled at Mistress Eleyna who rolled her eyes. These two were clearly old friends. “Although,” he continued while Lilian brushed her finger tips along the edge of a sculpture of a hand, “I would say art is more about creating life, than ending it.” Mistress Eleyna raised her eyebrows, “What would you know about creating life, maart?” Lilian knew that this meant ‘man’. Hafiz raised his hands in mock surrender,

“Truth! Truth Eleyna. Now, Miss Lilian. If you were to get something painted today, did you have a design in mind?” Lilian thought for a moment and came to an image that she’d had in her head for many months now.

“I was thinking, perhaps, a mountain with the moon above it.” Hafiz considered this, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in thought.

“Hmm, something special about this mountain?” Lilian nodded.

“I grew up in a mountainside town. I thought having my home with me would be nice.” Hafiz nodded and Eleyna smiled at her. Hafiz grabbed a bit of parchment and began sketching something out with the piece of charcoal he’d kept in his mouth. His hands moved quickly, and Lilian approached him, dying to see what kind of thing he would come up with. She heard him mutter under his breath.

“Could go abstract, nice shapes, a triangle and a circle. But no, the moon is too complex to be reduced to just her shape. And the mountain, hmm, perhaps some snow here…” He mumbled like this for a few minutes and eventually flattened the page out on a small table in front of Lilian.

He’d actually done several designs, each one in a different style. Lilian liked them all, and was instantly reminded of Benlunar, which made her smile. They discussed them for a while and Hafiz mixed one of the moons with a different mountain and added a few more details under Lilian’s instruction. Eventually they’d found a design that they both liked and Lilian realised that it was nearly time to make the decision. She was feeling good about it, and although she’d heard about the amount of pain getting a tattoo done could cause, it couldn’t be much worse than five weeks of rigorous combat training, or being thrown out of a window for that matter.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Lilian reached into her bag and pulled out the jar of dirt and the vial of Lunar essence.

“Hmm,” said Hafiz, “what have we here?”

“I was wondering,” replied Lilian, “if you could mix these things to create the ink?” Hafiz looked up at Eleyna.

“You say she’s never had a tattoo and here she is mixing her own inks?” He smiled and went back to examining the contents of the jars. “May I?” he went to open the jar of earth, Lilian nodded. He examined the earth, smelled it and crushed some between his fingers. He then turned his attention to the vial of essence. It’s shining light illuminated the designs on his chest, giving them a shimmering, lifelike quality.

“Hmm, yes yes. I understand. More than life, less than death. The agent and the reactor, making you the catalyst. Very clever.” He stood up quickly and went over to a desk in the corner. It was overflowing with glass containers.

“Please, be careful…” Lilian warned but Hafiz was already turning to assuage her.

“Fear not, young one. I know precious things when I see them. I had thought today would be a young person’s first tattoo, very normal for me, but now I see. Today is the day I prove myself. The most important day of my life as an artist. Today, I deal with real mana.” Lilian wasn’t sure what he meant, but something about his excitement and his handling of the vials made her trust him. She nodded and he went over to the desk.

While he pottered about, cleaning beakers and measuring out precise amounts with a copper scale, Mistress Eleyna approached Lilian.

“Lilian, where did you get those things?” Lilian looked up at her Mistress.

“It’s a long story. The glowing liquid is from my home, but the earth is from somewhere else. Somewhere dead and distant.” Mistress Eleyna looked at her with a look of understanding, she then glanced at Fritha.

“I knew you were a strange girl from when I first saw you. You fought well that day. But getting to know you and getting to teach you… it’s been a real pleasure for me. Thank you Lilian.” Lilian was shocked. She had not expected this and was momentarily stuck for words.

“No Mistress Eleyna, thank you! I’ve learned so much. And I feel less... scared now.” Mistress Eleyna nodded in understanding. Fritha approached them and let out a calming purr. Mistress Eleyna ruffled the tuft of fur on her head and Fritha’s coat cycled through turquoise blues and fluorescent yellows.

“She’s going to miss you,” said Lilian.

“And I will miss you both. But you will come back. I know it in my heart. This is not our last time together.” Lilian smiled at the surety in her voice. Hafiz shuffled back towards the group of chairs, having finished whatever he was doing over by the desk. In his right hand he held an ink well. Inside it, Lilian could just make out a swirling, shimmering, black liquid.

“We do not have much time,” he said, gesturing to the liquid. Lilian realised suddenly that she had never actually made the decision to get the tattoo, but her life had brought her to this point and it would seem strange to go against it. Like fighting a wave, instead of surfing it to safety. She looked at Mistress Eleyna, then to Hafiz, and she nodded.

“The moon. The mountain.” Hafiz smiled.

“The moon. The mountain.” Lilian repeated, and the art began.

Once Lilian was comfortable, she rested her wrist on the arm of a large, soft chair. Hafiz brought a small stool towards her and rested the inkwell on a little table, next to the chair. From there, he picked up two sticks, one of which had the smallest of metal attachments, jutting out of one end. This he dipped into the ink, took a deep breath, and got to work. Lilian watched him for a while. He would bring the metal end of the stick to her skin and tap it lightly with the other tool which he held in his opposite hand. At first, Lilian didn’t see what all the fuss was about. She felt the impact of each tap, and even saw the metal spikes draw blood from her arm. But she felt no pain. At first. After a few taps, the process began to sting. Then it began to hurt, and then, it began to burn. She clenched her fist tight and leant her head back on the chair. She tried to distract herself by looking at the artworks around her, by talking to Mistress Eleyna but nothing worked. Each tap drew her back to the moment, back to the burning. Regret began to pace through her mind, why had she done this? What was she thinking? What would her mother say?

“You’re doing great, little one,” she heard Mistress Eleyna through a red haze of pain. Lilian tried to smile but felt embarrassed by a hot tear streaming down her cheek.

“Is it nearly over?” she asked, through gritted teeth.

“Nope, just getting started.” Hafiz mumbled. Lilian let out a string of curses which would have made Brother Thomas blush. Hafiz laughed, “Good! Keep going, whatever you need to do.” Lilian thought about what she needed to do and gave in to the impulse that had been bubbling inside her for the past few minutes. With a deep breath, a look up and a clenched fist, Lilian let out a long and solemn scream. Fritha joined in with a howl, the pain subsided a little and Lilian settled in for the long, motionless journey.

Two and a half hours felt like a lifetime but finally it was over. Hafiz wiped away the blood and applied a salve to the affected area.

“Do not wash this off until this time tomorrow, understand?” Lilian nodded, at least, she thought she nodded, it was hard to be sure through the fuzzy confusion affecting her head. Mistress Eleyna helped her stand-up, gave her a drink of fresh water and walked her about the room. Lilian didn’t recall much after that, but she did remember reaching into her pocket for a golden crown and placing it on Hafiz’s desk by way of payment. She then vaguely recalled descending the ladder and having Mistress Eleyna guide her through the streets of Zandt, back towards her accommodation. She remembered seeing Peter and Serena, waiting for her in the kitchen, and having them feed her some sweet bread. Their voices were echoey and far away and Lilian did not remember anything that they’d said. Upon waking up in her bed the next day however, she did recall the letter they had given her. It was over on the desk beside her bed now and Lilian got up quickly to reread it. The stinging from her arm prevented her from moving too fast and she looked down at the green salve which had hardened in the night and was now cracked and flaking. Ignoring the pain, she went to the letter. She had not dreamed it then, it was just how she recalled it from her semi-lucid state. It was neatly folded parchment with a familiar scrawl on it in black ink. The handwriting belonged to Mr Attorcop and the whole letter was comprised of just seven words.

The time is right. Return to Freedos.

Had it been up to Lilian she might have stayed a few more weeks in Zandt, brushing up on her fighting technique, exploring the city and maybe finding out more about the Holy Solar Order. But she trusted her mentor back in the city and if she was to succeed in toppling a regime, then she would need to get back to where she was needed. When she went to the kitchen, she found Peter already packing his bags.

“Ah! You’re up! How you feeling?”

“Heavy,” Lilian replied, gesturing to her head.

“Aye, that’ll be dehydration, drink this,” he passed her a canteen and Lilian took a swig. The water was cool and refreshing. “Little sips, all day, understand?” Lilian nodded, fighting the urge to drink the whole can in one go.

“You saw the letter then?” she said, nodding to the bags.

“We read it together, you don’t remember?” Lilian shook her head, “Well, needless to say, the time has come.” Lilian heard a hint of sadness in his voice. “I walked Fritha to the harbour this morning and booked us passage on a ship. It leaves this evening. The captain was wary at first but I think he changed his mind when he saw her.” He pointed at Fritha who was sniffing around beneath the kitchen counter for any dropped food.

“Oh? Why’s that?” asked Lilian, raising her voice slightly and then instantly regretting it as it made her head throb. Peter shrugged,

“Not sure. But news travels fast amongst sailors, maybe our friend Captain Terne has been singing her praises.” he paused and looked at Lilian with a serious expression, “Will you be okay to travel today?” Lilian nodded.

“I’ll be fine. I just… I want to say goodbye to Mistress Eleyna if I can.” Peter nodded in understanding.

“Well, the ship is called The Darling and she’s set to leave mid afternoon. We can meet you on board.” Lilian looked up,

“We?” she repeated.

“Serena is travelling back with us.” Lilian smiled at this. She hadn’t properly chatted with her new friend in a few days and was eager to show her the tattoo. She glanced down at the green, flaky paste on her arm. It itched like mad, but Lilian was under strict instructions not to touch it. That at least, she remembered.

After a bite to eat and a few more sips of fresh water. Lilian headed out with Fritha to make the climb to the temple, one last time. She savoured every step, turning around often to marvel at the white city. Once inside the temple, she headed straight for the main hall where she knew she would find Garold and Mistress Eleyna. She could hear their swords clashing from the entrance passage and smiled when she stepped into the great hall and saw her classmate desperately trying to defend himself against a flurry of attacks.

“Lilian!” he shouted, “Please step in, I have forgotten how mean she is.” Lilian smiled and waited for them to finish their lesson. When they took a break she explained to both of them about the letter and how she needed to leave. Mistress Eleyna seemed sad.

“Your lessons are far from finished.”

“I know,” agreed Lilian, “but I can’t stay. I promise I’ll practise my stances every day though.” Mistress Eleyna nodded. Garold gave her a big hug and Lilian wished him the best of luck with his career in the army. She then turned to Mistress Eleyna and bowed, half out of respect and half to prevent her Mistress from seeing the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Lilian reached into her pocket and pulled out two gold crowns, “for the lessons.” Mistress Eleyna took them.

“Thank you,” she stared at the coins, thinking about what to say. “Remember to shift your weight on your third stance, fifth movement. And…”she faltered in her speech, “and when you see Nicholas Telson. Tell him Eleyna has not forgotten.” Lilian nodded, hugged her teacher and her friend and then turned around before either of them could see her cry.

By early evening the three friends, along with their faithful feinhound, were back on the water. The Darling was a trading vessel, similar in shape to The Swift Stag but slightly larger. It’s captain was a stern man called Tremulo who did not speak much and was known amongst his crew to punish any form of gambling on board. His belief was that any luck that anyone had should be spent on the journey, and not wasted on a game of cards. The main cargo was silks and a few passengers who needed to get to Freedos. As they drifted down the river, Lilian joined Serena on the stern. Together, they watched Zandt diminish into the distance.

“I never thought I’d be sad to leave that city,” said Serena. She turned to look at Lilian, “thank you for making my stay so wonderful. Can we still be Friends in Freedos?” Lilian smiled,

“Oh I’m not sure,” she said wryly, “are you sure you want to be seen with a dirty country mouse like me.” Serena laughed.

“Well if you’re a dirty country mouse then I’m a big city rat. We can be vermin together.”

“Delightful!” Lilian giggled.

“Oh!” exclaimed Serena, “I nearly forgot. Can I see your tattoo?” Lilian jumped, she had nearly forgotten all about it since it had stopped itching a few hours ago. And with all the excitement of packing and leaving the city she had yet to wipe off the salve.

“Oh, yes, let’s have a look. One second, I’ll get a cloth.” Lilian hurried off to find a dishcloth which she dampened with a bit of fresh water. Upon returning, she looked at Serena and smiled in anticipation.

“Ready?”

“Enough suspense, let’s have a look!” Lilian brought the cloth to her forearm and slowly wiped away the salve. She needed to pass over the spot a few times and after getting most of it off she looked up at Serena in confusion.

“Where… where is it?” Serena asked. And she was right to, because no matter how much Lilian examined her arm, the tattoo was not there.

Lilian spent the journey agonising over the strange absence of her tattoo. Her first thought was that she had waited too long to take the salve away. But Peter assured her that that wouldn’t have made several hours worth of ink just disappear, it would just have made the salve a little harder. Her second idea was more sinister. Perhaps she had been conned? Perhaps Hafiz had stolen the vial of essence and the jar of earth and had used some kind of disappearing ink. But that didn’t explain everything. The pain she had felt had been very real, so where was the evidence of that? There were no scabs, no scars, nothing. Just her arm, pale and freckly, as it had always been. As the boat bobbed along the sea, Lilian grieved the loss of something she had never seen. It was meant to be a commemoration of her time in Zandt and a reminder of home all in one, and she had gone through the terrible ordeal of getting it done, so its absence stung almost as much as the needle that made it. As the days at sea went by, the pain faded, but Lilian still felt a pang of resentment whenever she glanced down at her arm. Thankfully, her various bruises and strains from fighting had healed. One morning while practising her handstands on the bow of the ship, she realised that even the persistent pain from her broken arm had disappeared entirely. Perhaps it was the sea air or the results from all that hard work training with Mistress Eleyna, but her steps felt lighter somehow, her breaths deeper, her kicks higher. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable. She missed practising the Atarapian style already and even resorted to getting Peter to pretend to attack her only so that she could see how she would react. Peter was a terrible fighting partner and often complained of the odds not being fair or that his wrist hurt or just generally whinging and wishing to go back to his notes and books. Serena on the other hand was more than happy to take his place. What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm. Lilian had to dodge some rather vicious fists and got the impression that Serena Bellaswan had some serious anger buried deep within her pristine exterior.

A few, uneventful days later a familiar coast line came back into view on the starboard side. That morning, the old volcano came into view. The spires and towers of the capitol city could just about be seen through the mist.

“We’ll be there by evening,” said Peter as the three of them marvelled at the view, “Serena, you don’t know this, but Lilian and I didn’t leave Freedos on the best of terms.” Without even blinking Serena responded with,

“Then you’ll need disguises.” A few minutes later, she returned with a couple of travelling cloaks. “Put these on,” she said, “you can pretend to be my servants. If you put the hoods up then people won’t see your faces.” They thanked her and tried the cloaks for size. They were a tad too big, but would suffice in the low light. Thankfully, it looked as though it was about to rain, so the hoods would not look out of place. Lilian looked down at Fritha, her heart heavy with what she was about to ask her. She’d sworn once that she would never ask her to hide again, but the situation was just too dangerous. She knelt down and began to speak to her fine furred friend. Looking into Frithas big, golden eyes, she could not not quite bring herself to break her promise. Fritha came closer, sniffing the cloak and seemed to understand.

“Fritha, I’m so sorry…” but Fritha did not let her continue. She interrupted Lilian with her low gong tone. “Yes,” said Lilian, “fear. This is scary, but we can do it.” Fritha took a step back. She then proceeded to shake, like she was drying herself after a swim. Only there was no water on her, instead, Lilian watched as her hair began to lengthen and darken. The vibrant colours dulled and within a few seconds she was disguised as the big, brown dog again. Lilian smiled and hugged her.

“Thank you. I promise it won’t be for long. We’re done with hiding. Soon, we shine, understand?” Fritha licked her face and Lilian giggled. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Peter, his face was serious.

“Best start getting ready.”

The sun sank slowly beyond the sea and the moon showed her face to light The Darling’s way to safety. The Freedos port was connected to the city walls by a short road and it was here that Serena’s cloaks came in most useful. Waiting for them there were a group of men, not Weardian as Lilian had expected, but soldiers. They had erected a sort of check point made up of sand bags and a shabby cabin. Lilian didn’t remember it being there when they left, and she was sure they had taken this same road.

“Papers miss,” A gruff soldier spoke to Serena. The rain dripping down his face and staining his grim expression. Serena played her part wonderfully while Lilian watched from beneath her hood.

“Papers? Who do you think you are? If you don’t let us through this instant I shall be speaking to my father and he’ll have your job, do you understand? I’ve never heard such insolence.”

“My apologies madam,” said the soldier through gritted teeth, “but we’re checking everyone entering the city. Some dangerous folk out there.”

“Hmph!” Serena pouted and clicked her fingers at Peter who obediently reached into a satchel to extract the proper documentation. “I’ve never experienced such indignity in all my days.” It was all an act of course. A show to distract the men from who was under the hoods. Serena even went so far as to pretend to fall into a puddle, forcing a nearby soldier who was getting a little too close to Lilian, to catch her.

“Oh! My goodness. Thank you sir. Your colleague over there could learn a thing or two about manners from you.” Despite her nerves, Lilian had to stifle a laugh.

After a few tense moments which included some bag searches and lamps shone in people’s faces, the party were allowed to go on their way. As soon as they were out of earshot of the soldiers, they congratulated Serena.

“My dear it was nothing. You should have seen me talk my way into Mrs Havers sugar dinner last winter. I complained so much the doorman was nearly in tears!”

The party eventually reached the city gates. More soldiers were stationed here. As the drizzle of rain developed into a shower, Lilian’s bad feeling became full blown anxiety. All this, just to enter the city? How many more soldiers would they encounter once inside the walls? Serena deftly navigated her way through the checkpoint once again, although this time was a little easier as the soldiers clearly didn’t want to be standing around in the rain. There was a moment where one man eyed Fritha for a suspiciously long time.

“What breed is she?” he asked Lilian.

“She’s a mountain hound,” she replied. The soldier stepped closer and Fritha growled. “Careful,” said Lilian, “she bites.” Thankfully, the man nodded in understanding and stepped away, placated. Lilian felt pride well up inside her, detecting fear was a useful skill, but instilling it was better still. Serena kept the rest of the men distracted and after showing them her travel papers and flashing her pearl white smile, the soldiers parted and let them through. Lilian wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but knew better than to think the trouble was over.

The streets of Freedos were quiet save for the lashings of rain and little rivers flowing into leaf blocked gutters. Their little group kept quiet, not wishing to draw any more attention to themselves. Their cloaks were soaked through and their eyes were trained on the paving stones in front of them.

“The man at the gate said there’s a curfew in place. It starts at 10th bell, so we should find somewhere to spend the night soon,” Serena whispered loudly through the rain.

“That explains the empty streets,” said Peter.

“I’ve never seen the city like this…” added Lilian, things must be bad, she thought. “Serena, are you not going up the hill?”

“I won’t make it in time. We should find an inn,” she replied.

“I know one nearby,” said Peter. He picked up his pace and Lilian hurried after him. After a second, she realised that Serena was falling behind. Turning around to check on her, Lilian saw that she had stopped completely.

“Peter, wait,” she called out, pointing to their friend, “Serena? What’s wrong?” Serena turned to them and through the sheets of rain, Lilian saw her shocked expression. Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed up at the wall beside her. It was the side of a large building, Lilian had passed it many times while out on deliveries to this part of the city. She’d never paid it much attention but Serena’s face made her stomach churn with worry. She ran back to join her and looked up at the wall where she was pointing. Lilian wanted to gasp, but her breath caught in her throat.

Adorned on the wall, twenty foot high in bright lead paint was a mural. It depicted a girl, dressed in green with bright red hair. She wore a serious expression and her hands were balled up into tight fists. Sitting beside her was a beautiful beast, multicoloured with bright cat-like eyes. Above them, in text as tall as Lilian, was a single word: Resist. Just as Peter came running to join them, Lilian found her breath and spoke:

“It’s me…”

Episode 46

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the main hall of the Holy Solar Temple on top of the hill overlooking the city of Zandt, there was a silence. It was punctured intermittently by the sound of water tapping on stone as a very wet Lilian Lausanne stood in front of two strangers, dripping. One of the strangers, a swordmistress named Eleyna, looked at her with surprise and confusion on her face. She seemed as though she was about to say something, when she took a step back in fear. Lilian turned around to see Fritha emerging from the fresh pool of water beneath the large stone bird. Fritha’s sodden coat dragged a quart of water out of the pool and onto the stone floor, the tension was quickly broken when she shook her entire body and sent a shower of cold drops over everyone. Lilian giggled and shielded her face.

“Fritha! That’s rude.” Lilian lightly chastised the feinhound before turning back to the two strangers. She had just been watching them practising a particular style of fighting that she had recognised to be the one used by Nicholas Telson, the shadowy head of The Guiding Hand. She had asked to train with them but still had not received an answer. Lilian turned back to the pair and waited. Finally, the older woman, Mistress Eleyna, spoke.

“How did you get in here…?” Lilian was confused.

“I guessed what was inside. Why? How did you get in?” Mistress Eleyna shared a look with her student.

“We also had to guess, but… it took many months of study.” Lilian nodded respectfully. She was unsure of how to respond.

“Congratulations,” she said, nervously, “So do you think you could teach me?”

Mistress Eleyna shook herself out of her state of confusion.

“Pardon me, Lilian was it?” Lilian nodded, “well, my dear, it’s not so simple. I only take a few students each year and only if I see promise in them. I can’t be giving classes to every wet invisible girl who hangs around with golden cats. Although I will admit you are the first to ask.” Lilian felt a pang of disappointment.

“Please, Madam…”

“Mistress,”

“Mistress Eleyna. It’s important. You see, in Freedos I fought a man who used his sword just like you did. He was fast, and deadly. He beat me, but spared my life. I think that when I see him again, he will try to kill me. I need to learn how to defend myself. His name was…”

“Nicholas.” Mistress Eleyna interrupted her. Lilian was surprised.

“Yes. How did you…?”

“There is only one Atarapian in Freedos, I knew him years ago. We had the same master.” Lilian became suddenly wary. If this woman knew Nicholas Telson, perhaps they shared similar goals or beliefs, they may even be friends. Lilian’s eyes darted to the blade in her hand. It was a training sword, sure, but it could still inflict significant damage, especially in experienced hands. Lilian’s fears were quickly assuaged when Mistress Eleyna suddenly spat on the floor.

“He betrayed my master and he left me for dead,” she lifted her cotton shirt on her left side to reveal a small but prominent scar. Lilian also briefly glimpsed the dark ink of a tattoo, but the shirt covered the full design. After tucking her shirt back into her trousers, Mistress Eleyna sighed and shrugged.

“Well, today is not going as I had planned but then again, when does it ever?” She approached the edge of the pool and clasped her sword between praying palms. She glanced up at the bird, closed her eyes and spoke a silent question in her mind. After a few moments and two or three deep breaths, she turned back to Lilian.

“Very well. If you can land one hit on Garold before the sun goes down. I will train you.” The boy Garold glanced at her wearily.

“What’s the matter, afraid you will be beaten by a little girl.” He shook his head.

“No but…” Lilian did not wait for him to finish speaking. Shifting her feat into an attacking stance she launched her full weight towards him and struck out twice. He was fast though, and managed to dodge both strikes.

“Ho hooo!” cried Mistress Eleyna, “I like this one. Come on Garold, she’s got you on the ropes already. Here, catch!” Lilian struck out three more times but each hit was met with only empty space. Between the second and third strike, Mistress Eleyna had thrown him her sword and he managed to catch the handle mid air. Bringing it up quickly he parried Lilian’s fourth swipe and a deafening clang echoed around the hall. Lilian took a step back, recentred herself and then the fight began.

It lasted longer than any match Lilian had ever fought. Watching him from the pool, Lilian had assumed Garold to be of a similar skill level to her, but that was because he had been fighting a master. In truth, he was more advanced than Lilian. She used every trick in the book, sweeping low kicks to knock him off balance, barrages of rapid strikes to confuse his eyes, quick feints followed by quicker attacks but nothing got through. What was worse, was that the sword style he had learned from Mistress Eleyna made him seem frustratingly relaxed. The heat of the afternoon sun pierced the temple roof and in a matter of minutes, the pool water on Lilian’s body had evaporated away and been replaced by sweat. Each round ended the same way. Garold would block her attacks and then land a punch on her body, these signified stabs. The hand is further from the tip of the blade and so if he was able to land a punch, he would have easily been able to land a stab. At first the punches were light, but Lilian felt patronised by this and insisted he treat her like a real opponent. She immediately regretted it however, as his next punch landed in the middle of her rib cage and knocked the air right out of her lungs. During all of it, Mistress Eleyna watched them both. At first she laughed and jeered, but soon she fell silent, studying their fight like a gambler assessing a racehorse.

Finally, once Lilian was out of breath, drenched in sweat and bone tired from exertion, Mistress Eleyna raised a slender hand, signifying the fighters to stop. Lilian glanced up at the dome roof, there was still some light coming through.

“I still have time!” she protested. Mistress Eleyna’s expression was serious and Lilian feared the worst. “No, you said until sundown and I still see light.” she turned back to Garold, “one more,” she insisted. Garold looked to his teacher as if seeking permission or guidance. He was sweating as well, but no where near as much as Lilian. Mistress Eleyna breathed out through her nose and gave the smallest of shrugs. Garold raised his blade and turned back to Lilian, ready to go again. One last bout, one last chance to land a hit. Lilian felt nerves begin to flutter in her stomach. She circled her opponent and took a deep breath, bringing her focus to the present moment. She replayed the afternoon’s fights over in her head, searching for some weakness or detail she might have overlooked in the heat of battle. Garold was fast and his defense was practically unbreakable. Lilian knew that repeatedly attacking him was achieving nothing, he saw all of her moves coming as if from a mile away. She took a step closer and Garold shifted his stance. She could hear his breathing and see a bead of sweat falling from his hair line down towards his eyes. Lilian was calmer now and she knew what she needed to do. If striking first was of no use, she would have to wait for him to attack her. This was easier said than done, especially as time was not on her side. She glanced up at the roof. There was still a sliver of light coming through one of the amber windows. She would need to provoke him.

Lilian stepped to her right and shifted her stance, bringing the blade up high over her head with its tip pointed down. This left her body open to attack but kept her weapon out of his immediate eyeline. She watched his eyes as she stepped slowly closer. They darted between her sword and her feet. Lilian waited but Garold was still not attacking. She watched the bead of sweat inch down his forehead and as soon as it came into contact with his eye, she pounced. The split second’s blink, coupled with the movement of his eyes forced him to take evasive action. He sensed the attack but did not see from which direction it was coming. Instinctively, he took advantage of Lilian’s open defense and struck out for her chest, hoping to get the blow in before her sword had time to swing down. The tactic would have worked, if Lilian had attacked. She had jumped forwards yes, but instead of bringing her sword down to strike him as she had done so many times before, she brought it towards her own body. This meant that it was ready to parry his blade which it did with a sharp clank. In the split second that followed, she thrust her fist out towards Garold’s chest and it connected with a satisfying thud. It was not a hard hit, but it didn’t need to be. Lilian kept her fist, which was holding her sword, in contact with his shirt, she stared at it in disbelief. Then, the last of the evening’s sun disappeared and her hand went from yellow gold, to deep blue silver as the moon finally showed her face.

Garold looked down at the point of impact on his chest and then looked up, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Very nice!” he said in his low baritone.

“Thanks!” Lilian beamed in delight. Then, both fighters turned to Mistress Eleyna. She was sitting against a pillar with Fritha’s head in her lap. Lilian had been so preoccupied with the fight she hadn’t noticed the two of them getting to know each other. Mistress Eleyna carefully woke the feinhound with a firm but friendly pat on her side and then proceeded to stand up and walk over. She held out her hand and Lilian placed the handle of the training sword in her open palm.

“Well, Garold,” she said, “it looks like you have a new sparring partner. I’ll see you both here tomorrow morning, bring food.” And with that, she left through a side passage and Lilian collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Both students and feinhound managed to stumble their way back down the mountain in the low light. Lilian learned a bit more about Garold during the long walk back to the city. Apparently he came from a religious family, both his parents were priests and teachers in the Holy Solar Order, so guessing what was inside the temple for him had been relatively easy compared with other, less knowledgeable acolytes. But the religious life was not for him, he wanted to be a soldier. Well, what he really wanted was to see the world, and the easiest way to do that whilst also being paid was to be a soldier, a profession he had a natural aptitude for. Training under Mistress Eleyna was a great honour and achievement for him and once his training was complete, he would be a shoe-in for the officer’s academy. Lilian told him about her experience with soldiers, well, mercenaries in the form of The Hundred. Garold was impressed.

“They say they are the strongest company in Alicium! Did you see them fight?” he listened in rapt attention while Lilian told him about the night at the Garrow’s farm. When they parted Lilian went to bow but Garold held out his hand.

“Oh no, we do not bow now,” he explained, “we are equals, and we look each other in the eye.” Lilian smiled, and grasped his wrist. “You fight well Miss Lausanne. I’ll see you in the morning.” Lilian smiled.

“Hopefully it won’t always be that tough.” A small smirk fell across Garold’s face.

“You have no idea.”

Later, back at the house, she saw Peter but only managed to tell him a brief summary of what had happened before needing to go to bed. She had to fight just to keep her eyelids from closing. She had the memory of her head hitting the pillow, but seconds later Lilian Lausanne was fast asleep.

Over the following weeks Lilian was back in training mode. It was similar to when she first began to train with Mr Attorcop. Early mornings, running up mountains and long hours of repetitive motions. Mistress Eleyna was a fiercely strict instructor. She had the ability to see when Lilian’s body was millimetres out of position and would correct her stances at first with a gentle hand, then a harsh word and finally a wicked whack from the side of her training blade. Every evening saw the appearance of new bruises, but Lilian didn’t mind. At first. Having come so far with her combat training with Mr Attorcop it was frustrating to have to learn something from scratch. Mistress Eleyna made it her personal mission to beat every bad habit out of her. The sword style was called Atarap and had apparently been developed a hundred and fifty years ago after a tax on steel had been imposed by the powers at the time. The soldiers had to learn how to fight with smaller and smaller blades which eventually led to the Atarapian fighting style. The swords were light and razor thin. This meant they weren’t able to block larger blades but instead focused on lightning quick strikes. In theory, the style suited Lilian’s wiry physique but the techniques involved in using the swords were impossibly difficult to master.

“Too tense!” Mistress Eleyna would shout again and again in the echoey temple hall. The Atarap method involved keeping the body relaxed up until the very last second when you would either strike, parry or dodge. Easier said than done when the tip of a sword is heading directly towards your throat. The theory was that muscles moved quickest in the act of tension, but once tense became comparatively slow. One morning Mistress Eleyna had Lilian studying scorpions for three hours. She learned how they would distract their prey with open claws and then finish them off with a deadly sting from outside of their field of vision. Lilian then had to implement their way of moving into her sword play.

The days were split into three sections. Physical training in the mornings, technique tutorial before and after lunch and then sparring practise for the rest of the afternoon. The physical training involved going from push ups, into handstands and eventually combining the two. It took three weeks for Lilian to be able to balance on her hands and as soon as she was able to do it, Mistress Eleyna told her to balance on her fists. If this wasn’t frustrating enough, the actual Atarapian techniques were finicky and complex. Lilian had to relearn how to hold a sword, how to maintain a relaxed grip while not having the blade knocked out of her hand, how to shift balance from one foot to the other and all of this while memorising the thirteen Atarapian stances and their names and associated uses, of which there were four or five for each one. To call the system difficult would be too kind. It was so complex that had Lilian not been training under a master she would have assumed it impossible. The only thing keeping her motivated were the very occasional times when she got to see Mistress Eleyna fight. She moved like a dancer, or a cobra. She knew how to attract the human eye and misdirect it away from where her strike was coming. She could fight on her hands as easily as on her feet. Obstacles became opportunities and a sword in her hand would appear to bend and float around her like a deadly dragonfly. Watching her was equal parts inspiring and infuriating. Lilian could never hope to achieve such skill and often found herself tired and bitter at the end of the day. Her moods were not improved by the constant presence of Serena Bellaswan during what little free time she had.

Serena and Peter were becoming firm friends, much to Lilian’s dismay. It was not unusual for Serena to dine with them most evenings. She would find some new spice in the markets and come over to cook for them. Peter behaved very strangely whenever she was around. He would laugh at her silly stories from court, go silent when she asked him simple questions and generally became a bit of a buffoon. One night in particular, a few weeks into her training, Lilian lost her cool with both of them. She had been nursing a particularly nasty cut on her upper arm and was already irritable from having to repeat the ninth stance, fourth movement, thirty-six times before Mistress Eleyna finally pronounced it ‘acceptable for someone her age’. Peter and Lilian were sitting at their little dining table when Serena breezed through the front door of the apartment and without so much as a ‘good evening’ began helping herself to some dried mango that Lilian had bought earlier that day.

“You’ll never guess who I saw hanging around the flower stall today, you know the one near the little place that does that mint tea? Jessica Florentina.” Lilian and Peter stared at her with blank expressions. “Oh you’re both useless, she’s lady Florentina’s daughter, well, illegitimate daughter but you didn’t hear that from me.” Lilian wasn’t sure if it was the audacity of entering her house without knocking, the cheek of eating her fruit without asking or the incessant gossiping that got to her, but just then something snapped.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Lilian shouted, a bit louder than she had meant to. There was a silence and Serena’s smile faded into a look of shock.

“I’m… sorry..?” she said, as if she genuinely didn’t understand the question.

“Lilian,” Peter interjected, “that’s not very nice.”

“Well I don’t care. Neither is she!” Lilian could feel her temper starting to boil over, “all she ever does is complain or talk badly of others. She’s here all the time despite never being invited and the last time I checked we didn’t ask for a spoiled, entitled bully to be constantly showing up unannounced and eating our food.”

“Lilian!” Peter stood up, fury on his face, “that is enough.”

“And you!” Lilian turned her ire towards her friend, “what is wrong with you? You’re so clever and witty but as soon as princess here shows up it’s like you become a completely different person. Both of you are just… UURRGH” unable to find the words Lilian just grunted, stood up and marched passed the still dumbfounded Serena and went up the small stairs and down the hall to her room. Fritha was in there napping but awoke with a start when Lilian slammed the door behind her. She fell on her bed and was about to beat her pillow when the cut on her arm sent a searing pain into her shoulder. All she could do was bury her head in her pillow and scream. She felt hot tears burning her eyes and rage filling her heart. After a couple of big shouts she looked up to see Fritha staring intently at her from the middle of the room. Lilian wanted comfort of any kind and so held her hand out to stroke her. But Fritha did not come forward, instead she took in a little breath and made her familiar, deep gong sound. It was the sound that meant fear. Lilian narrowed her eyes.

“What do you know?” she hissed and went back to burying her face in the softness of her bed.

After a few minutes, she heard her door clicking open, she had forgotten to lock it, and the sound of a footstep entering the room. The covers muffled her voice but Lilian still managed to make herself heard.

“I don’t want to talk to you Peter.” There was a small cough and Lilian looked up. It wasn’t Peter, but Serena who was standing over her. Lilian felt a flush of embarrassment wash over her and tried to wipe her eyes quickly. “Serena please I just…” Serena put a hand up to stop her talking. She didn’t look upset, she was calm and so Lilian listened.

“A few weeks ago, you asked me what I was doing in Zandt.” Lilian moved her legs as Serena went to sit on the bed beside her. “The truth is, I didn’t want to tell you because I was embarrassed.” Serena looked down at her hands and began rubbing her fingers absent-mindedly. Lilian had no idea where this was coming from and was having a hard time imagining Serena Bellaswan being ashamed of anything. “The truth is, I’m not here on holiday. I’m here because I’m being punished.”

“The house I’m staying in belongs to my aunt and I hate it there. It’s filled with people but I have no one to talk to. I’m sorry if me coming here has been annoying. I understand that. But for me, it’s been just wonderful. You see, this isn’t my first time in Zandt. My mother has a habit of sending me here for a few weeks every other year to punish me for disobeying her or not doing something properly, or I don’t know, some nonsense. This time it was because I wore a dress that was apparently too garish for a high tea party, on top of other things. And it works. I hate coming here. It’s beastly hot and I miss my friends at court and I miss talking and, well, gossiping. I know it’s a bad habit but you must understand once you’ve practised the harpsichord for five hours there’s only so much else you can do in a day. I know I shouldn’t complain, I’m very lucky to come from a nice family but I work so hard at court trying to find a way to move up in society or please my mother or even just get her off my back for a few days that when I saw you, someone who’d been in Freedos for barely a month, coming down the stairs with the Empress on your arm it just made my blood boil. I really wasn’t planning on seeing much of you in Zandt. But Peter is lovely, and he’s my age and we get on and you’re never here so I thought... well. What I wanted to say was, I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone from now on.” Serena stopped talking. Now it was Lilian’s turn to feel ashamed. She glanced at the older girl who even in this heat had perfect golden curls flowing down her shoulders. Lilian wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked at Fritha. She was sitting in front of them both, her tail sweeping from side to side, as if patiently awaiting their reconciliation. Lilian tried to find the right words.

“Fritha says I’m scared.” Serena looked up, confused.

“She can… talk?” Lilian smiled.

“No. But she knows when people are scared and she’ll tell you, even when you don’t want to hear it. And she’s right, of course. I am scared.”

“What are you scared of?” Serena asked.

“Oh lots of things.”

“Is that why you fight?” Lilian thought about the question. It made sense, but it didn’t sound right.

“No. No, I don’t think so. I’m learning to fight because I want to help people. And sometimes when you try to help people there will be others that want to hurt you or stop you. There’s a man in Freedos, he’s very dangerous and I need to stop him.” Serena smiled.

“That sounds very brave.” Lilian snorted and shrugged.

“You know,” she replied, “If it’s any help, I never wanted to meet the Empress. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her or walk down those steps with her at the ball.” Serena sighed.

“So what you’re saying is, you have everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and you don’t even want it. *sigh* no I’m not sure that does help, but thank you for trying.” Serena smiled and Lilian chuckled.

“No, I suppose that’s not very helpful is it?” An awkward silence descended on the room. Fritha took a step closer and purred as if she was willing the conversation to continue. Lilian knew what she needed to do. She took a deep breath, swallowed her pride and did it.

“I’m sorry, Serena. I’ve been beastly ever since I saw you on the boat here.” Serena looked across at her and smiled.

“No, you were right to be. I know I can be… difficult, sometimes.” Lilian looked up and saw Serena as if for the first time. The perfect golden curls and stately manners were still there, but there was no defense, no cutting words or viscious quips. Lilian shuffled across the bed and hugged her. She felt Serena’s body tense as if this was some new and strange sensation. But when Lilian squeezed her tighter, she felt the tension slip away.

“Thank you,” Serena whispered as she hugged her back, “I don’t deserve this. You’re a good person Lilian Lausanne. Maybe that’s why I find you so infuriating.” Lilian laughed.

“Nah, it’s just my small town charm. You big city folk aren’t used to it.” They held each other for a few more seconds and then broke apart. Fritha came close and put her chin on Serena’s lap, her tail wagging happily.

“Right, shall we go back downstairs and eat something? That ninny is probably waiting for us.” Serena said as she stroked Fritha’s large head.

“Oh he is a ninny!” Lilian agreed and the two friends stood up and went down to have dinner.

The next day something finally clicked in Lilian’s head. Her transitions between stances became more fluid and she found that she didn’t have to think as hard about the next move. In the afternoon, while sparring with Garold, she managed to strike him six times, almost doubling her previous record. Both he and Mistress Eleyna beamed at her progress.

“Another hit!” cried Mistress Eleyna, “there is hope for you yet little Lilian.” Lilian did a celebratory cartwheel and went to give Fritha a big hug. When she turned around she saw that Garold was no longer holding his training sword. It’s handle was in Mistress Eleyna’s hand.

“Now, see if you can do that to me.” Lilian’s heart skipped a beat. Truthfully she had been yearning to test her skills against her Mistress, but now that the moment was here, Lilian couldn’t help but feel nervous. Collecting her thoughts and breathing deeply she approached Mistress Eleyna with as much confidence as she could muster. They stood a few feet apart and chose their starting stance. Mistress Eleyna went for the fourth position, third movement a wise choice considering it hid the blade from her opponent’s view. Seeing this, Lilian chose the eleventh position, first movement, bringing her feet close together and her sword out to the middle distance in front of her. It was a good all rounder, balancing attack and defensive capabilities equally, but it was not particularly bold.

“Boo, too safe,” Garold jeered from the sidelines. Lilian shushed him and suppressed a smile. This was serious business.

Mistress Eleyna opened with an upward kick to Lilian’s wrist, which she had to move her sword arm to avoid. Mistress Eleyna stayed on one leg and shot out a flurry of strikes with her foot. Lilian blocked or parried them all but knew that if she was going to land a hit, she would have to draw out Eleyna’s sword. She used her small stature to her advantage and ducked down below Mistress Eleyna’s raised leg, sweeping her own foot out and round in the process. This was easily anticipated and countered with a small jump into a crouch by Mistress Eleyna, but Lilian had planned ahead. Bringing her sword up from the ground in a modified eighth phase thrust she aimed directly for Mistress Eleyna’s chin. Any other fighter would have had their chin clipped and their vision forced skywards, but Mistress Eleyna was too cunning for that. Spinning midair she brought her own blade round to parry Lilian’s and the two fighters were back on equal footing. Lilian wasted no time in celebrating her little victory. Bringing out Mistress Eleyna’s sword meant she was one step closer to breaking her defence, but it also made her more dangerous. The two women exchanged a flurry of lightning fast blows. Lilian naturally flowed from relaxation into tension remembering to keep her breath fluid and constant throughout. Their eye contact never broke, as each one knew that the other would take quick advantage of any distraction. Soon after, Mistress Eleyna got the first hit in. Lilian had countered a feint too quickly and was met with a swift punch to her gut. She bent over double and tasted vomit in her mouth.

“Not bad,” her teacher said, standing over, “ready for one more?” Lilian needed a few seconds to recover, but once she managed to isolate the pain and push it to one side, she was back on her feet.

“Ready.” She chose the third stance as her opener, making her body wide in an attempt to bait a similar strike. Mistress Eleyna countered with the seventh stance, second movement, making herself tall and bringing her blade up and high like the tail of a scorpion. This time, the swords came out early and the training blades were tested to their limits as they met time and time again in the air between the two women. Lilian was confident in her defence but knew that she would have to turn the tables soon or else Mistress Eleyna would find a weakness. Lilian pushed in closer, taking steps forward while maintaining her strong defense. Mistress Eleyna guessed her plan and created distance between them. Suddenly, Lilian saw an opening and dashed forward but even though her sword was up and striking her body was met by the bottom of Mistress Eleyna’s foot. She had brought it up in the blink of an eye and for Lilian it was like running into a horse's hoof. She was knocked back and her sword went clattering across the stone floor. She cursed under her breath.

“Ah ah, keep calm.” Mistress Eleyna chastised her. Lilian knew in her head that getting angry would vastly diminish her chances of landing a hit, but her heart was not listening. She walked over to her sword and picked it up, ignoring the pain from the open blisters on her palm. Gripping the handle tightly, she found her breath and balance and turned back to her Mistress. It was like fighting a wall, a wall that could anticipate your every move, and counter with blows of its own. The effort seemed useless and for a second a voice in the back of her mind told her to give up and go home. But Lilian had come too far for that. Before her time in Freedos, she might have listened to the voice, or told it to shut up. But now she knew it well, it was the voice of fear, the sound of defeat. She decided to take a different approach with it. She calmed it with soothing words, she listened to what it said and reassured it that all would be fine. Slowly, the pain from her hands and chest began to ease. Her mind became less clouded by frustration and with one final deep breath she closed her eyes and became centered.

Lilian turned around and noticed her teacher studying her with curiosity. She smiled, which was rare.

“Good Lilian, very good. Again.” Lilian approached her Mistress, taking in the hall, the sounds and smells of her surroundings as well as the totality of her opponent. This relaxed state felt a lot like gloaming but whereas that caused her to have hyper focus, this state allowed her to see everything all at once. No one thing was clearer than another, but any change or movement became blindingly obvious. Lilian shifted her body slowly into the ninth stance, sixth movement. This involved her crossing her right leg slightly in front of her left and raising her sword hand up by her side, wrist pointing upwards, allowing the tip of the blade to drop down slightly. Mistress Eleyna chose the eleventh and crouched low like a coiled snake. The fighters waited. There was no rush, no time limit. Just the calm before the storm.

Once she was ready, Lilian dictated the start of the fight by blinking. The small movement was enough to make Mistress Eleyna spring forward. Lilian waited, one step, two, deep breath. There. Mistress Eleyna’s blade leapt out of hiding like the protruding fangs on a rattlesnake, revealed moments before the killing bite. Even once she saw it, Lilian waited. She waited until the tip of the training sword was roughly a foot away from her throat, until she was sure that it wasn’t a feint, until Mistress Eleyna’s full weight was behind it. Lilian shifted into eight position, second movement, bringing her right leg up at the same time as her left hand. In the next instant she used the back of her left wrist to shift the tip of the oncoming sword past her neck whilst her right foot pinned Mistress Eleyna’s left arm against her body, preventing her from doing the same. Lilian’s blade could now come into play. With a quick tension in her wrist, Lilian’s own training sword snapped forward and with pinpoint precision ended its motion with the tip touching Mistress Eleyna’s throat. The whole motion took less than a second but as soon as it was over Lilian knew it was a hit. She felt Mistress Eleyna’s left arm struggle to come up from under her foot and sensed her sword flow past beyond her own neck, guided ever so slightly away by her wrist. The two fighters stayed in place for a second and finally, Mistress Eleyna broke away and nodded, acknowledging the strike. Lilian barely had time to smile before she felt her weight being lifted off the ground by an exultant Garold.

“What a play! And a killing blow no less. Right, Mistress?” He swung Lilian around in a circle and she dropped her sword in surprise and elation. Mistress Eleyna smiled and once the celebration was over she beckoned Lilian to join her by the pool. Lilian composed herself, picked up the training blade and joined her Mistress by the water. They stood and faced the giant stone statue, brought their swords up in prayer and bowed to the ever watching bird.

“Excellent work Lilian. You have come far,” said Mistress Eleyna in a tone that Lilian had not heard before. Could it have been pride?

“Thank you Mistress,” she replied, fighting the urge to hug her.

“Now that you’ve landed a hit on your teacher, there is a little tradition you must uphold.”

“Oh?” Lilian asked, “What's that Mistress?”

“Why, your tattoo of course.”

Episode 45

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The city of Zandt has three main markets. There’s the harbour which Lilian and Peter saw on their first day, that dealt mainly in meat and fish. Then in the northern quarter there was the cloth market, they had visited this one on the morning of their second day. Lilian had bought two flowing dresses and three linen wraps. The kind woman who ran the stall had shown her how to wrap the material around her head and shoulders so that she was protected from the sun. The family they were staying with (old friends of Katrina’s from Freedos) had recommended her personally and upon mentioning their name she smiled broadly and gave them a handsome discount. The heat was so constant and energy sapping that Lilian found that she could not muster the will to do much more than one or two activities per day, that included her daily exercises and stretches which were meant to aid her recovery. So it was not until the third day that they visited the third market. This one was known as the materials bazaar and was where the people of Zandt went to trade all kinds of substances, ingredients and spices. Unlike markets in Freedos which were usually held in wide open spaces on certain days of the week, the materials bazaar was permanent and packed tightly into several small shaded streets. The wares were either laid out on carpets on the ground or on top of packing crates. Much like the houses in the city itself, stalls were often placed so close to each other, it was difficult to tell which person nearby was in charge of what. Trading seemed to consist of hanging around near your chosen material until someone came over to ask if you were interested. You would then try and seem as disinterested as possible while trying to haggle over a price. Lilian had learned this the hard way when she bought a few sticks of liquorice root for, according to Peter, three times what they were worth. She didn’t mind though. She chewed on one happily as she took in the sights, sounds and smells of the market. Fritha padded beside her keeping a watchful eye on the liquorice root. She drew a few curious gazes from the stall holders and patrons but no one asked too many questions. Zandt was a massive hub for trade, so its people were used to seeing exotic animals. Besides, in this heat Fritha kept her coat short and white which just made her look like a big dog.

Peter took out a scrap of parchment from his pocket, it was the third time this morning that Lilian had seen it.

“What do you keep looking at?” she asked, using the liquorice root to point at the note in his hand.

“Directions.” he replied, absently. He glanced around for a few moments before settling his gaze on a dark archway. “Through here.” he said and Lilian and Fritha followed him through the arch, away from the main market thoroughfare.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I just need to pick up some things for mum.” something about his tone made Lilian wary. He kept glancing back over his shoulder and his voice was a little too quiet.

“Peter…?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“What are we here to buy exactly?” her friend ducked his head under a wooden beam and continued on into the depths of the market. There were still sellers here, but they were fewer in number and their conversations were spoken in hushed tones. Peter didn’t meet her eye.

“Just some… things. Don’t worry about it.” Lilian rolled her eyes. If there’s one way to get someone to worry about something, it’s to tell them not to worry about it. Finally, a look of recognition fell upon Peter’s face.

“Ah, here we are.” He walked towards a man dressed in a dark blue and brown robe, his eyes were bright and friendly and draped across his shoulders was a huge lizard. Its tongue flicked out occasionally and its suspicious eyes narrowed as it saw them approach. In front of the man was a collection of large glass jars, each containing a different substance. The light was especially low back here, despite it being the middle of the day so Lilian had to squint to see what was in them. Peter nodded to the man with the lizard and greeted him in the local dialect. Lilian had only managed to pick up a few words but Peter was quite adept. They exchanged a few phrases and the man handed him one of the jars. It contained a sort of yellow powder. Peter opened it and gave the contents a sniff.

“Oof, smell that…” he held it out for Lilian to smell. She leant in and inhaled deeply.

“Ugh, Peter, that's disgusting. It smells like a rotten egg in a sewer.” In truth, it smelt worse than that, but Lilian didn’t have any other comparison.

“That’s sulfur.” Peter said, handing the jar back to the stall owner. He was laughing at Lilian’s reaction to the prank. Lilian was still reeling from the awfulness.

Peter and the man haggled for a while over the price of the jar. All seemed to be going fine until Peter gestured to another jar, this one full of thin lavender coloured crystals. The stall owner’s smile fell away. He began to shake his head and the lizard almost lost balance. Lilian looked at Peter who brought out a golden crown and showed it to the man. They exchanged a few more words. Peter seemed to be doing his best to convince the man to let him have both jars, but he wasn’t budging. Finally, after several minutes and a few more silver bits on the table, he relented and Peter put both jars in his travel bag, making sure they were well hidden before thanking the man, turning around and leaving.

“What was all that about?” asked Lilian as they stepped out of the shadows and back towards the light. Peter chose his words carefully.

“They get these crystals from a cave by the coast, they’re quite rare. In Freedos they’d cost an arm and a leg but here I got them for a song.” He was smiling, satisfied with the morning’s deals.

“He didn’t look like he wanted to give them to you,” said Lilian.

“Separately it wouldn’t have been a problem, but together they can be quite dangerous. If you know how to mix them. Which I do.” he smiled another one of his self-assured grins. The light was getting brighter as they made their way back to the main market. The chatter of the crowd grew louder too. As they re-emerged into the main market Lilian was about to ask what would happen if Peter used his expert knowledge and combined the two jars when she noticed something that made her stomach drop. Quickly, she turned to her friend and tried to persuade him to go the other way.

“You know what Peter, we haven’t seen that part of the market up there yet, why don’t we…”

“Hey…” he interrupted her and Lilian knew she had failed to distract him in time “isn’t that Serena?”

Sure enough, Serena Bellaswan, dressed all in white linen and carrying a ridiculous lace parasol, was standing just a few feet away, talking to a stallholder about some dried jasmine buds.

“No Peter, wait…” Lilian tried to stop him but he was already heading towards her. He waved as he approached and Serena flashed her brilliant white smile when she saw him. Lilian followed suit and when Serena caught sight of her, the smile fell away.

“Peter, how delightful to see you. And hello… Lulu.” she said, putting on all the heirs and graces of one who was about to be introduced to royalty. Lilian did not bother correcting her mispronunciation of her name, they would not be here long.

“And you Miss Bellaswan. How are you liking Zandt?”

“The city is perfectly charming. I think the markets are by far the best part, such lovely things and so cheap!” Peter grinned.

“You have an excellent eye for quality, my lady.” he gestured to her parasol and Lilian fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was Peter’s obsession with this vacuous creature? She was clearly just a spoiled brat who was here on holiday. They had a mission and it did not involve wasting time with airheaded noble daughters. Serena pretended to blush at the complement.

“Peter darling you’re too kind… oh! Goodness gracious.” Fritha came out from behind Lilian and approached Serena, sniffing her sleeve and assessing her. Lilian smiled at Serena’s obvious discomfort. She hoped that Fritha would snap at her or steal her parasol but Fritha sensed her fear and backed away. Curse your kindness, thought Lilian.

“Apologies, Miss Bellaswan. This is Fritha, our companion. Fritha, here!” Peter called her back and Fritha obliged, knowing there was a sour berry waiting for her in his pocket if she did.

“Oh, thank you. Sorry, I’m… I’m not used to being around such creatures.” Peter patted Fritha on the side. “No it’s us who should apologise, we’re so used to her we forget how big she is.” Lilian harrumphed. She was not about to apologise, Fritha was just being curious, it wasn’t like she jumped up or bit her ankle. Lilian clapped her hands together,

“Well, this has been lovely but I believe we need to get going, Peter?” she turned away, hoping he would follow but he merely shrugged.

“We’re not in any rush. We’ll have all afternoon to make the journey. Oh, speaking of…” Lilian’s stomach dropped, no no no, she thought, knowing what Peter was about to do. “Miss Bellaswan, we were thinking of visiting the Simurgh temple this afternoon. Would you care to join us?” Lilian stepped forward.

“I’m sure Miss Bellaswan is far too busy buying cakes to want to go on a hike…” Serena shot her a poison glare.

“I think the cakes will still be there tomorrow. And it’s true that the temple is on my list of things to do.” Lilian willed her not to agree to come, the hike was going to be difficult enough without having a whinging princess in tow. As usual though, Peter betrayed her.

“Fantastic,” he said, “The path starts on the edge of the city just north of here. Shall we meet after lunch?” The two young women did not break eye contact. Lilian narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. Serena did the same at first, but apparently, upon seeing how angry the suggestion was making Lilian, her face broke into a wry smile.

“I should like that very much.” There was an awkward pause while they stared each other down. Peter, oblivious as ever, broke the silence.

“Great! See you there!”

Lilian and Peter enjoyed a light lunch of local delicacies. Cheese wrapped in steamed vine leaves and skewered spiced chicken, washed down with a bitter drink made from the skin of grapes. They swapped stories of their childhoods and laughed at how different growing up in Freedos had been compared to Benlunar. Lilian enjoyed spending time with Peter, he was easy to talk to and pleasant to everyone they met. He was quite tall and still growing which meant that he often misjudged the depth of steps or the heights of doorways, resulting in many a bump and bruise. As they approached the hill path (Lilian refused to call it a mountain) they were laughing about the first time Peter met Mr Attorcop.

“I couldn’t believe how serious he was! I swear he could turn shopping for flour into a life and death situation.” Lilian threw her head back in laughter. The description was far too accurate and even though it made her miss her mentor she still enjoyed the observation. As she wiped a tear from her eye and her vision became less blurry, a waving figure came into focus in the middle distance. All laughter died at the sight of her. Serena Bellaswan, clad in beige linen trousers and sturdy ankle boots, was signalling them from the base of the hill. She was perched on a rock and had swapped the parasol for an equally ridiculous hat, the brim of which was wider than her shoulders. It was fashioned from intricately woven straw and tied with a big green bow. Even in this sweltering climate she looked effortlessly glamorous, as if she had been set down on the rock by a passing flock of sparrows. Her shirt was white cotton and ruffled in the breeze like the sail of a ship. Lilian glanced down at her own dark green dress and noticed a stain where she had dropped some cheese on it earlier. To add insult to injury, Fritha bounded over to Serena and licked her hand. Traitor, thought Lilian as she watched Serena bend down and give the animal a big kiss on her forehead.

“Ready to go?” she said, smiling.

The walk up to the temple was pleasant enough. The well worn trail wound upwards between tufts of dry grass. Peter and Serena walked a few feet ahead of Lilian and Fritha. Lilian would catch the occasional word from their conversation but on the whole occupied herself with maintaining a steady pace and warning Fritha not to get too close to scorpions. Each of them carried a cantine of fresh water, which the locals had warned them was a must. Lilian had hoped that Serena would struggle with the walk, but frustratingly found that she kept up relatively easily. At one point, about three quarters of the way up, Lilian turned to look down at the city. From here the sprawling metropolis against the backdrop of dunes and sky had the stillness of an oil painting. There were no crowds, no noise and the slight movement of trees in the breeze was the only thing that made it animated and real. She breathed in a deep, clean breath and missed her mountainous home. Travel might broaden the mind, but it focuses the heart.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice, shocked Lilian out of her nostalgia. She turned to see Serena standing not three feet beside her. For all their differences, she had to admit that she was right. Lilian nodded.

“It is.” Fritha gave a wide yawn and pawed at the ground, eager to get going again. Serena shifted uncomfortably.

“I realise that I never thanked you, for the other day. That man was so scared he practically left a cloud of dust as soon as he’d set down my bags. So… thank you, for that. I lost my cool but you kept your head.” Of all the things Lilian had expected her to say, this had been the last. Caught off guard, Lilian mumbled a restrained,

“It was nothing.” she did not even look at Serena as she said it.

“Well, even so, I appreciated it. And if I can repay you…”

“Why are you here?” asked Lilian, interrupting her.

“Excuse me?” said Serena, confused.

“Why are you in Zandt?” Lilian had been wanting to ask this ever since she’d seen her on the Swift Stag. It seemed strange to her that one so connected in Freedos high society had decided to come, relatively alone, to a strange city where she knew no one and had no work to speak of. Serena’s face fell, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Lilian got the impression that this was an uncomfortable topic for her, but Lilian didn’t care. She was sick of Serena spoiling her trip and if she insisted on hanging around, the least she could was answer her questions. Unfortunately, just as Serena seemed like she was about to say something, Peter appeared from up the path and shouted at them.

“Come on you two! We’re nearly there.” Serena looked relieved at the interruption.

“He’s so bossy!” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes. Lilian humphed and brushed past her. She’d managed to avoid the question, but sooner or later, Lilian would corner her and she would get answers. She always did.

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the top of the hill. As the crest loomed ahead the top of the temple came into view. The first and unavoidable sight were its columns; six in total and each one adorned with gold leaf. The building itself was round and tall, at least as tall as the Stave in Benlunar. Its stone white roof was a dome that rose up into the sky. At its peak was a metal spike that had a golden sun attached. The sun’s face and wavy rays were gold as well. At the base was a set of white steps that led up to the base of the columns. Beyond these, was a white wall with a comparatively small doorway at its base. Standing in front of it were two men. They were dressed in white robes, the style of which reminded Lilian instantly of Zadoch Korshid. These must be disciples of his holy solar religion. Sun worshippers and keepers of untold destructive power. Lilian tried to suppress the memory of Zadoch’s obliteration of the Weardian headquarters, but it was not easy. The smell of her own burning hair and the screams from the men and women inside were still very present in her mind. She shook herself and began walking towards the men.

“Lilian? What are you doing?” Peter was behind her, calling her back in a hushed voice. Lilian turned to see both him and Serena with concerned looks on their faces.

“I’m going to talk to them.” she said, matter-of-factly. Serena shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The temple is a place of great significance for their order. They don’t just let anyone in.” Lilian frowned.

“Well why did we come all the way up here then?” not waiting for a response, Lilian turned and headed for the steps. The expressions of the two guards, Lilian assumed that’s what they were, grew more stern with each of her approaching steps. She could hear the patter of feet behind her and knew that her friends were following. Fritha was by her side and so Lilian felt confident.

When she was within speaking distance, one of the men held his hand up.

“Halt please.” Lilian did not listen. She was fed up with people telling her what to do. Instead she paused and then took a few more steps.

“I would like to go inside please.” she spoke confidently, trying not to think about what these men were capable of. Both of them had golden suns embroidered on their chests. They looked at each other, incredulous. The one who had spoken before replied in broken speech.

“Only those of the holy solar order may enter.” Lilian shrugged.

“Fine. How do I become a member of the order?” the second man smirked and replied bluntly.

“You don’t.” Lilian scowled, the man continued. “Order members are chosen after many years of study. They earn the right, no, how do you say it? Privilege of going inside. Walking up a mountain is not enough.” Lilian felt her blood begin to boil. She did not like these men one bit. She never really liked anyone who told her she was not allowed to do something. She felt a series of angry words bubbling to the surface and was about to give them an earful, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Serena, standing beside her with a look in her eyes that said, ‘stay calm’. Lilian begrudgingly stepped back and folded her arms. Serena turned to the guards.

“My dear gentleman. We appear to have got off on the wrong foot. We are not here to quarrel or to discover and divulge any secrets. My friend is merely curious. We have travelled a long way and a trip to Zandt would surely only be half complete without experiencing its most treasured wonder.” Lilian marvelled at her diplomacy and choice of words. She felt her anger dissipate and even saw the tension in the guards’ shoulders ease somewhat. The first man considered her statement.

“The glory of the sun can be felt anywhere. There is nothing more interesting inside than that, I can assure you. Besides, our rules are strict, there is nothing we can do. Unless…” he paused, but Serena saw her opportunity and jumped on it.

“Yes? Unless what?” The two men looked at each other and the quiet one shrugged. The first man spoke again,

“Technically the temple is a public place and we cannot stop you, but only those who can pass the guess may enter.”

“The guess?” Serena parroted. The man screwed up his face, trying to find the right words.

“Yes. The guess. Our laws say that if someone can guess what is inside, you may go in. This is why we study for so long. To understand. But if you have not studied the books, you will never guess. And in one life, you only have one guess.” He shrugged. His point was made. It seemed as though entrance to the temple relied on a sort of paradox. To go in you had to guess what was inside, but you could not know what was inside without going in. Lilian narrowed her eyes, the wheels of her sharp mind suddenly springing into furious whirring. It was a puzzle, and Lilian knew now that she would not be able to rest until it was solved. Serena sighed and turned back to her.

“I’m sorry, I did my best.” For the first time since meeting her at the Summer Ball Lilian gave Serena a genuine smile. It was not filled with malice, or accompanied by cutting words.

“Thank you Serena, you were brilliant.” Serena looked taken aback.

“Oh. Well, you’re most welcome. Consider us even for the other day.” Serena turned and walked back towards Peter, her haughty hackles were back up. It seemed as though genuine thanks was not something Miss Bellaswan received often. “Are you coming, Lilian?” she said, ready to head back down the mountain.

“No,” Lilian replied, “I’m going to make a guess.”

Lilian took a few steps closer to the two Order guards. She needed Serena and Peter to be out of earshot for the conversation. The two men swapped a curious look at each other, surprised that one so young and so obviously ignorant of their ways was about to waste her one and only guess. Fritha remained close by and Lilian touched her nape for reassurance. Having her animal companion close gave her confidence. As she got closer, the two men squared up to her and began the necessary ritual.

“You are here to enter the holy solar temple, home of the sun on land and source of power of the Holy Solar Order. To grant you passage we must hear your guess as to what waits within. Please be concise and accurate, for only those who are sure are worthy.” Lilian looked at their faces, she thought she detected a slight grin on the second guard but she did not let that bother her. If she were in his position, she might have found this amusing too. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds and triple checked her logic. For nearly a year now she’d been studying history, philosophy and religion with Mr Attorcop but all those lessons went suddenly to one side in her mind. In their place, she saw home. She saw the mountain and the moon and heard the rippling of water. The Padda Stone loomed large in her memory and she felt a calmness wash over. Lilian opened her eyes, and was ready.

“My name is Lilian Lausanne, of Benlunar. I have travelled far and learned much and although I cannot be sure by any means, I am ready to guess.” A few seconds passed where all that could be heard was the whistle of the wind and a far away screech in the sky. “Inside your big and beautiful temple, there is a creature. It is ancient, far older than the rocks that surround it. It is powerful, it gets its power from the sun and every so often, when the sun is at its most radiant the creature comes alive. There will be water around it and a feeling of peace. The creature may look like a bird, but it is not one. It is a being of untold age and it has seen cities rise, temples fall and knows that the order that protects it now is just one of many that throughout history have sought to control it. But it does not care, for it is forgiving and it will sit and it will give forever, like the sun.” Lilian turned to look up into the sky and felt the heat of the sun on her face. She tried to calm her nerves and turned back to check if her guess was correct. The two men were staring at her with looks of shock and confusion. The second man stepped aside and it looked as though the first was about to do the same when he paused and spoke softly.

“Now you know, you tell no one. All are allowed a guess but we must ask that you do not influence them.” Lilian felt excitement rising inside her, she nodded.

“I swear. I’ll keep the secret, but I ask that you respect the fact that I do not agree with this. This place should be free and open to all.” The guard nodded.

“I respect your wish. But I think you have seen what this power can do. We simply do not wish it to fall into the wrong hands.” Lilian was uncomfortable, but in agreement.

“I respect your wish.” And with that, the way was made clear.

Lilian turned to wave goodbye to Serena and Peter, they looked dumbfounded, their mouths wide open and their eyes fixed and unblinking.

“I’ll meet you back at the house!” she cried and before receiving an answer, turned on her heel and headed inside the temple with Fritha padding patiently by her side.

The heat of the day faded with each step into the dim stone corridor. There was a light at the end of the tunnel but Lilian did not rush towards it. Her nerves from guessing were still very present but with each cooling, calming step she felt the tension dissipate into the walls of this sacred place. She looked down to her right side. Fritha, brave as ever, was striding forwards, Lilian even had to quicken her pace to keep up with her. Her coat was shifting and shimmering through various metallic shades. Lilian saw it cycle through silvers and bronzes before it finally settled on glittering gold. Something about this place was clearly speaking to her. It gave Lilian confidence and with a smile and a new spring in her step she faced the light and strode on towards it.

A new and different kind of heat was pouring out of the room ahead. A wet and humid heat, like the one on the river greeted them like a warm embrace as they stepped into the light. They found themselves in a large room, directly beneath the domed roof. Light was coming through the roof, through hidden glass panels buried in the sandstone. The glass was yellow, or clear or even dark orange in places. It was woven into the stone dome like cracks in a bowl that had been dropped and glued back together with molten gold. It bathed the hall in yellow and made Lilian’s skin look as golden as Fritha’s fur. As her gaze fell from the ceiling, it found the bird. Giant and made of rock it instantly reminded Lilian of the Padda Stone, only it was lighter in colour and rather than having a pensive, peaceful look, its expression was frozen in fierce concentration. It looked angry and although its wings were folded by its side, Lilian thought it might spring into flight at any moment. Bubbling beneath it was a pool of water, crystal clear and lined with mosaics. The patterns depicted people and birds in various forms of flight, dance or worship. In the middle of the bottom of the pool floor, was the sun, golden and dazzling, the movement of the water making it look as though it emanated real heat. Surrounding them on all sides of the hall were large columns, similar to the ones outside the entrance, only these were not leafed in gold but were simply sturdy and stone. Small doors and passageways lead off from this central room into other parts of the temple. They were dark and inviting. Lilian stood still for several seconds, in awe of the place. She looked up and around and studied all the details she could find. She was so distracted by the room itself that she failed to notice Fritha heading for the water.

“Fritha!” she whispered loudly, sure that any shout would be heard by someone deep in the temple. Before she could grab her attention and pull her away however, Fritha had her two front paws in the water and was stepping timidly into the pool. Lilian moved to grab her but she was too far and it was too late. Fritha’s splendid slender slipped into the cooling waters and in an instant she was swimming. Lilian wanted to shout at her to get out, but the water looked so clean and refreshing she found herself silent and envious. It was so hot in the hall and the water was so serene.

Glancing about and making sure they were alone, Lilian quickly removed her outer layers and hid them behind a pillar. Dressed only in an undershirt and shorts she tiptoed across the stone floor and headed for the water. Fritha was busy splashing about, what further damage, if any, could she do if she joined her? Lilian touched the pool with her right toe. It was as cool and refreshing as her imagination had made it out to be. Without a moment’s hesitation her foot was in the water, followed swiftly by her legs, her knees, thighs and waist. Her breath caught in her chest as the water moved up past her stomach but by then there was no going back. One final jump and Lilian was submerged and swimming. The water was inexplicably cold but not so much that it shocked the body. Rather, when contrasted with the heat of the room, it relaxed it. Lilian dipped her head beneath the surface and swam over the blazing sun. She joined Fritha on the other side and giggled as her furry friend licked the liquid off her face. There were hidden steps under the bird and beneath the water. Lilian sat, half submerged on the third one down and enjoyed the sensation of refreshing serenity. She rested her hand on Fritha’s side, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Almost at once, the familiar feeling of gloaming came to her. Her senses heightened and her awareness of the space around her grew sharp. Back in Freedos, gloaming would always cause her to tense her body as the waves of sound and activity crashed over her. But here she found she could relax and enjoy the feeling. The lapping of little waves on the tiles, the disant screech of a bird and of course, the heavy heartbeat of her faithful feinhound friend. Lilian breathed out a happy sigh. The trials and troubles of the city seemed far away here. But there was something close and getting closer. The tapping sound of sandals on stone. Two sets of feet were somewhere in the depths of the temple and they were getting louder.

Lilian opened her eyes, she had only just been granted access to this place and was not yet ready to leave. Normally she might be nervous, but she was so relaxed that she merely glanced at Fritha, caught her amber eyes and put a finger up to her lips. Slipping then down to the next step and further into the water, they both became still and invisible. Presently, two people entered the temple from a small passage to the east. Lilian watched them with a curious and detached air. Her clothes were far away, so she did not fear her discovery. The figures approached the pool and acknowledged the bird before turning to face each other. One was a woman, roughly middle aged with sharp features. She wore a loose green sleeveless shirt and baggy trousers that were tied at the ankle. The person she was with was a young man, only a few years older than Peter. He wore darker clothes and had black hair that was shaved short. Both of them carried swords. They were short, thin blades made of dull metal. Lilian recognised them to be training blades. The tips were pointed and could still cause damage, but the edges were not sharpened. Lilian watched them curiously. She had expected to see folks dressed in Holy Solar robes, but apparently she was not the only person not in the order who had successfully guessed their way inside the temple. The woman turned to the young man and spoke in a heavily accented, stern voice.

“Here we will be free from distractions, remember to keep your eyes on mine. Are you ready?” The man nodded.

“Yes, Mistress Eleyna.”

“Then put up your blade and centre yourself. This round I will not hold back.” The man did as he was told, putting one arm behind his back and taking an offensive stance. He held his sword lightly as did his teacher. Lilian expected the first block to knock the weapon away completely, but as they fought the swords stayed fixed to their hands as if glued there by some sticky substance. The hall began to ring with the echoes of their meeting blades. Lilian had trained enough in swordplay to recognise experienced fighters. They moved swiftly, hitting out and retracting the tips of their weapons like scorpion tails. Lilian watched their feet. Unlike the solid steps she had practised with Mr Attorcop, these two moved swiftly from foot to foot, like they were dancing. At one moment, the teacher, this Mistress Eleyna, stood on one foot whilst effortlessly blocking several strikes. Needless to say, Lilian was enthralled. They trained this way for almost ten minutes without either one landing a strike. At times their swords moved so fast, Lilian’s eyes could not track their tips. There was something familiar about the way they moved but Lilian could swear she’d never witnessed this sword style before now.

At last the young student misstepped and his teacher was quick to take advantage. She pushed forward, forcing him onto the back foot and with a lavish swirling motion she undid his grip and sent his blade flying up in the air and down into the water. It landed with a small plop and instantly began to sink.

“Good!” said Mistress Eleyna, “it seems this room suits you. But be clear, not all places are so free from distraction, sooner or later you will need to train in the market or perhaps a busy street?” Her student’s chest rose and fell quickly and Lilian could see beads of sweat forming on his brow. His teacher seemed unaffected by the fight. The young man glanced at the pool.

“Mistress, the blade.”

“Hm? Oh, well, go and get it then.” For a second he seemed confused, but Lilian did not wait for him to take the plunge. Instead, she swam down to the bottom of the pool and retrieved the blade from the centre of the sun. As her hand gripped the handle, her mind suddenly placed the move sets she had just been watching. That was how Nicholas Telson, the leader of The Guiding Hand had fought. He had been just as quick and his sword was thin and sharp and held with a light grip. Lilian knew what she had to do and by the time she pushed off from the bottom of the pool, her mind was made up. As she stepped up the tiled bank on the other side near the fighters, she released her gloaming and became visible. The two figures watched her emerge with such astounded expressions, that Lilian nearly laughed. Mistress Eleyna spoke first.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Lilian was nervous but knew what she needed to say.

“My name is Lilian Lausanne, and I need to learn to fight like you.”

Episode 44

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian felt the ocean spray on her face as the ship’s bough crashed against the waves. With each passing mile they travelled south, the sun became hotter and so the cool spray was a welcome relief. From this position she could look out and see only sky and sea. Blue on blue, with the former peppered occasionally by cotton clouds, like the white crests of the waves below only so much slower to rise and fall. Lilian turned to look back at the ship. She was the Swift Stag, a merchant vessel that ran goods between major ports up and down the western coast. Her captain, a large dark man with a cheerful character by the name of Giddeon Terne, was nearby chatting and laughing with two of the crew. Lilian reminded herself to thank him before she got off the boat at Zandt. He only had room for two passengers, and those beds had already been booked and paid for. However, after a heartfelt plea from Lilian which hinted at her predicament with the law, he had agreed to take them on the journey, provided they kept out of trouble. This was a return trip and there was always extra room below deck on a return trip.

As she stood and watched the crew mingle and work about the deck, she felt a familiar ache in her forearm. She rubbed it, absentmindedly. It still hadn’t fully healed since that fight in the Weardian Captain’s office. That had been three weeks ago now, yet the memory of it all was still very close, kept fresh by her bodies’ constant painful reminders. The days that followed the fight were a little hazy. She remembered waking up in Katrina’s spare room and seeing Mr Attorcop safe and smiling. They had talked a little about what had happened and Lilian saw that the money she had stolen was safe and hidden. But she did not see Mr Attorcop again for at least a week. She was kept fed and happy during her recovery by Katrina and her son Peter. It was them that came up with the plan for Lilian to leave the city. Wanted posters, similar to the ones that had been made for Mr Attorcop, were now appearing within the city walls and even though only a small militia loyal to the Empress was left to enforce them, they still made Freedos a dangerous place for Lilian and Fritha to live. Katrina needed supplies from Zandt and so she paid for the passage and sent her son along to make sure the materials she needed were of high quality. Once enough time had passed, they could return to the city and the populace will have moved on to some other dangerous fascination.

“It’s about time you both travelled a bit more anyway,” she had said, “that’s what being young is all about. Seeing Alicium while you’re still able to fall asleep comfortably on a hay bale.” And so it was decided. Mr Attorcop had bade them goodbye a few days ago after he had accompanied them down to the river dock just outside the city walls during the night. The Swift Stag liked to leave early to catch the tide.

“There are enough crowns in your bag to pay for accommodation and supplies. I’ve also split our remaining lunar essence and packed the vile for you.” He had whispered hurriedly on the dock.

“Did you pack the earth?” Lilian had asked. She had not been able to go anywhere to fetch her belongings.

“I did, although I’m not sure why you’d need it.” She had requested some of the earth that Mr Attorcop had brought back from the demon forest, but she didn’t want to tell him why. Truth was, she had an idea but she wanted to test it out before telling anyone about it. They had hugged and Fritha had drooled on his nice shoes and before she knew it, Lilian had sailed down the river and was out in open waters, travelling south against the rising sun.

At that moment, Peter appeared from below. His head popped up through the hole in the deck and swiveled about until it found Lilian. He smiled and hoisted himself up. Fritha followed him, scrambling up the wooden steps. Those two had become good friends during Lilian’s recovery. Peter smiled, his mop of sandy hair flitting in the breeze and Fritha lolloped unsteadily towards her. Watching the feinhound navigate her way around the boat was funny but Lilian always felt a pang of guilt for laughing when watching the forest dwelling legend slip and slide across the wet wood. The sailors had been unsure about Fritha but thankfully their captain was a worldly fellow who knew such encounters to be rare and therefore treasured.

“Morning Lily.”

“Hi Peter, Hi lady.” Fritha’s tail was wagging so much that Peter had to move out of her way to avoid being struck over and over. Lilian looked up at the boy after giving Fritha a hug. He was three years older than her and was maybe a head taller. He had not spoken much when they’d first met, but since getting to know her he had come out of his shell and turned out to be hiding a fierce intellect as well as a wicked sense of humour. Ever since his mother had disappeared from sight waving them off on the dock, his face had been fixed in a permanent cheeky grin, as if comedic malice was always right around the corner. His eyes were shining in that way now and so Lilian grew suspicious.

“What have you done?” she asked, expecting to see a sailor rush out of the cabin with an octopus on his head or something.

“Wha- nothing!” he replied. Lilian raised her eyebrows in an accusatory stare. She couldn’t believe that she had to be the sensible one on this trip. “I’m serious,” he said and then looked over his shoulder to check if anyone was nearby. Seeing the captain and his two crew members he leant forward and lowered his voice. “Well, I did see one of the passengers below deck last night.” Lilian raised her eyebrows again, this time, in surprise. The identities of the booked passengers had become a source of gossip on board. They rarely left their rooms and each time they did, Lilian had been somewhere else. She knew it was a man and a woman, but she did not know their relationship or indeed, anything else about them.

“Really?” she asked, “which one?” Fritha licked the back of her hand, which was salty from the spray. Peter glanced over his shoulder.

“The man. He was older than I thought he would be. Definitely the oldest on board.”

“A merchant?” asked Lilian. Peter frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hard to say.” Lilian smiled and chuckled a little. “What’s with you?” Peter asked.

“Nothing. Are we really so bored that seeing an old man is now considered gossip?” Peter cracked a wide grin.

“Ha! Yeah. What does that say about us eh? We’ll be lucky to have any personalities left by the time we reach Zandt.” Lilian turned back around and gazed out to the open ocean.

“Did you say you’d been there before?”

“Once,” replied Peter, leaning on the taffrail beside her, “It was a few years ago now though.”

“What’s it like?” Lilian asked.

“I don’t remember much of the actual streets, but the temple is beautiful, I remember that.” Lilian cocked her head,

“Temple?”

“Oh yeah, you can’t miss it. It’s huge and looks over the entire city. It’s got golden columns that reflect the sun at dawn. They’re really into the sun, the Zandtians, the Zandtites? I dunno, whatever. The sun, good food oh and birds.” Lilian’s smile faded a little. Hearing someone talk about the sun brought her back to that day again, lying in the street, bleeding and watching Zadoch Korshid walk calmly into the Weardian head quarter, as if he was about to ask for directions and not… well, do what he did.

“Are you okay?” Peter caught the change in her mood, he was good at reading her like that.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You thinking about Zadoch?” Lilian nodded.

“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked. Peter scrunched up his face in thought.

“Well, I heard he was being detained, but that won’t last long. He’s a holy solar pator so he could just walk out of any prison he was put in. The real question is: what’s going to happen to Katherine?” Lilian felt suddenly very worried, her friend hadn’t visited her at the rare flower market during her recovery but Mr Attorcop had said he was doing all he could to protect her. She hadn’t really known what that had meant.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Peter slowed his speech and lost his jovial tone, “she was the one who asked for his help. Technically a Pator cannot act unless they are helping someone, so the question is: Will Catherine go to the tower for asking Zadoch to help her, or will Zadoch be punished some other way for… doing what he did.” Neither of them dared name the act out loud, lest the memory attracted similar disasters. Lilian’s mind was not letting her forget though, the feeling of the heat on her face. The smell, the fires… the screams. She shook herself out of the memory and went back to idle gossip.

“So! Who is the mystery woman then? Hm?” Peter smiled and Fritha chimed a happy bell. The sea stretched out to the horizon and the taste of new adventures seasoned its salty spray.

It took another two days for them to catch their first glance of her. That morning, the Swift Stag had reached the estuary of the river Shikra and turned its sails inland. The trip had been blessed with good weather and they would be arriving at Zandt within the day. The shoreline had been sandy beaches and tall dunes for some time but now that they were approaching the river, Lilian had begun to see tall trees and thick patches of coarse grass. The Shikra, she knew from her studies with Mr Attorcop, was the only source of fresh water in this part of the world. It was the blood of the region, giving life to the flora and fauna on its banks and allowing trade ships access to the various settlements. It was so important to people’s survival that most towns and cities made polluting it a punishable offence. All waste was buried deep in the desert that sandwiched the river on both sides. Zandt was the largest of these settlements and it would take them another four or five hours of sailing upriver to reach it. Thankfully the river was wide and calm and so sailing up it wasn’t too difficult. In case the current ever did get too strong though there were several stations peppered along the banks that provided ropes and oxen to pull the ships along. Lilian was looking at one of them now. There were six enormous oxen all grazing lazily around an enclosed paddock. A man, presumably their keeper, was sitting in the sun, his shirt off and his hat over his eyes. Not a bad life, she thought as she saw one of his oxen sniff his hat and then lick his ear, causing him to wake with a start. Fritha was somewhere below deck, sleeping off a bout of sea sickness and Peter was at the helm studying the helmsman’s technique in navigating the tricky transition from ocean to river. Behind her, she heard an unfamiliar clip clop of heeled shoes on wooden deck boards. She didn’t turn around right away, doing so would answer the riddle of who the strange female passenger was, and Lilian wanted to keep the mystery alive just a little longer. She was standing on the port side and she heard whoever she was walking past behind her and up towards the bough. Lilian heard the ruffle of expensive skirts and inhaled a sweet smelling perfume. Whoever she was, she had money, and her presence felt out of place amongst the rough sailors and semi-stowaways like herself. Lilian smiled at the thought of telling Peter about her brush with the mystery woman.

As the ship hit the line where the waves met the river the wood beneath her lurched and Lilian had to steady herself. After catching her balance she looked up and found that she was staring directly into the eyes of the mystery woman. She was just a few feet away and looking at Lilian with an expression of shock and anger on her face. It took Lilian a few seconds to place the young woman’s face but when she did similar feelings began to rise up inside of her.

“You!” Both women shouted the word at the same time and threw up accusatory fingers at each other like dueling gentlemen. There was a tense silence whilst they glowered at each other, all the social niceties having been left behind in the city.

“What is an annoying country bumpkin like you doing on my ship?” said Serena Bellaswan, her bright, brown eyes gleaming in the morning sun. Lilian narrowed her gaze and tried to stop herself from saying something too harsh. A task which she failed instantly,

“You arrogant, entitled princess. First of all, I’m allowed to be here, I paid for passage and I can go wherever I like. Secondly, this isn’t your ship, it’s Gideon’s.” Lilian faltered for a second, realising that a ship could have a captain and an owner and that they could be two different people. Thankfully, Miss Bellaswan didn’t correct her.

“Just when I thought this trip couldn’t get any more awful, now I’m forced to spend the day with this ginger rube.” The young noblewoman hitched up her pale pink travelling skirt and turned on her heel. Lilian was fuming. She marched after her, determined to have the last word.

“Um, excuse me, but it’s not like my day just got brighter knowing that I’ll have to spend it looking at your sour face.” Miss Bellaswan spoke over her shoulder,

“Well no one is forcing you my dear. Besides, last time I checked you were the one following me.” Lilian stopped in her tracks and clenched her fists into tight balls. She let out a sound of frustration, half grunt, half scream. No one had ever managed to irritate her like Serena Bellaswan. She spun around and decided to go below deck to find Fritha. Perhaps she could persuade her to bite the young heiress on the bum. That would be quite delightful.

For the rest of the journey, Lilian avoided Miss Bellaswan as best she could, going above deck when she came below, and moving to the starboard side if she saw that Serena was on the port. For the most part it worked and the two young women managed to avoid each other despite the size of the vessel. Lilian enjoyed looking out into the trees, which by now had grown to be the size of houses and were thickly packed together. The river was essentially surrounded by a jungle and the heat, when mixed with the lush greenery and ample river water created a wet and humid atmosphere. Lilian found that her sweat began to stick around and within a matter of hours, everyone on board looked like they’d just jumped in the river for a cooling dip. A prospect which grew more attractive to Lilian by the minute. Occasionally, she would catch sight of a dune through the trees. A grim reminder of the sandy graveyard that met anyone or anything that left the safety of the river. Mr Attorcop had said that the desert was home to a few nomadic tribes, but several years could pass between sightings of them. They spoke their own language, had their own customs and survived by harvesting moisture from the air. Lilian was wondering if she might meet any of these tribal people while in Zandt when a spot on the horizon caught her eye. It was a bright light on the top of a hill. It was similar to the lights she would see reflected off the lakes down in the valley on a bright day in Benlunar. Only this light did not flicker or change. She heard footsteps approaching behind her and turned around to see Peter.

“Is that…?” she asked, pointing up to the hill.

“The temple? Sure is. Doesn’t look like much from here but we’ll do the hike one day and you can see it up close.” Lilian smiled. She was looking forward to that. Suddenly, she glanced down and noticed that Peter was holding a pink hat with a wide brim.

“Is that…?” she gestured to it.

“Oh! Yeah I forgot to say. I met the other passenger! She’s a young woman called Serena…”

“Bellaswan.” Lilian finished his sentence. Peter looked shocked.

“You met her too?” Lilian grumbled something by way of reply. Peter went on, “Isn’t she lovely? The bow on her hat had come unstuck so I offered to fix it for her.” Lilian rolled her eyes. Suddenly, as if her ears had been burning, Serena Bellaswan appeared from below deck. She glanced about, saw Peter and smiled, then she saw Lilian and her smile disappeared.

“Peter darling,” she said as she climbed up onto the deck and approached them, “I don’t suppose you have my hat? Oh look!” she smiled broadly, flashing teeth as bright as the light on the hill behind her, and took the hat from Peter, “It looks wonderful, thank you ever so much. How can I repay you?” Her golden curls bobbed in time with the boat and Lilian found herself infuriated to see that even in this humidity, not a single hair was out of place. Lilian had caught sight of her reflection in the river just now and she looked as though a pigeon had made a nest on her head.

“No need Miss Bellaswan, it was my pleasure.” said Peter, “The flaw was quick to fix, tis a fine… bonnet.” Lilian looked at him, confused. Why was he changing the way he spoke? His posture had changed as well, he was standing up straight and grinning like an idiot. Miss Bellaswan looked between him and Lilian.

“Peter my dear, do you know this… person?” Lilian snorted irritably. Apparently, Peter was oblivious to the tension between them.

“This is my friend Lilian, we’re travelling to Zandt to escape oof!” Lilian elbowed him sharply in the side. Peter shot her a hurt look. Mouthy twit, thought Lilian. Miss Bellaswan arched a single eyebrow.

“Well once we’re in Zandt feel free to come and find me. We’re staying at the Thorn and Paw, near the base of the hill.” Peter quickly forgot about the pain in his side and nodded emphatically at the offer.

“I will miss, I - I hear the tea rooms in that quarter are delightful. Perhaps we could visit one together?” Miss Bellaswan smiled obsequiously.

“It’s a date. And do feel free to come… alone” Peter bowed and she walked past him, briefly touching his shoulder as she went. Once out of his eyeline, she turned to shoot Lilian a look of haughty self satisfaction. It made Lilian’s blood boil. Once she was gone, Lilian looked back to Peter and thumped him on the arm.

“Ow!” he protested.

“‘We’re here to escape’” Lilian parroted him, wobbling her head in mockery, “fool.”

“Yeah, er, sorry about that. She’s… disarming.” Lilian curled her lip and went back to looking upriver. She could see a few brightly coloured rooftops in the distance and the river seemed to be widening. Suddenly, Captain Gideon called for all hands from the helm and Lilian knew they were close to the docks.

The city of Zandt overwhelmed the senses of all who visited. The squat houses stretched out into the distance like a sprawling jigsaw where all the pieces had been forced to fit together. Most of them were white and square with dark little holes in the walls for windows. Some were painted blue or yellow or orange, giving the sea of whiteness an occasional splash of colour. As the Swift Stag pulled into the dock they had to navigate around a myriad of other vessels. Small wide bottomed ferries, larger sea faring trawlers and even the occasional trade ship like theirs. As the ropes were thrown down to the dock hands and the boarding plank was being safely put into place, Lilian skipped between port and starboard sides to look at all the activity around her. Fritha joined her, happily wagging her tail, thinking this was some kind of game. Lilian’s cheeks ached from smiling. She looked overboard to see two long black punt boats overflowing with different coloured fruit. Fruit she had never seen before and that she did not even know the names of. They had come from upriver and would occasionally be hailed down by city citizens on the banks. Lilian inhaled deeply and took in the sweet smoky smell wafting on the breeze from the harbour market. The people mostly wore long and flowing garments which were meant to keep them cool in the sun. Almost everyone wore something to cover their head, usually a wrap or a cotton scarf dyed in bright blues and greens. There was music coming from somewhere not too far away, lending a jovial accompaniment to the hubbub of the bustling crowds. Overseeing everything was the temple on the mount, which Lilian had learned was called the Simurgh. The sun had long past its zenith so the reflection from the golden columns was not quite so bright as it had been on their approach to the city.

She turned to see Peter waiting for her between the boarding plank and Captain Terne. A few of the crew had already disembarked and it seemed as though the captain wanted to be the last to leave. He smiled as Lilian and Fritha approached.

“A calm and quiet journey, surely thanks to you and your friend my lady.” said the sailor, gesturing down towards Fritha. Lilian shook her head.

“It was all down to you and your crew Captain, we could not have wished for safer hands to carry us south.” This seemed to please him greatly and he bowed low in thanks.

“Well since this was so successful, I hope you will be joining us again on your return journey? Sailors are superstitious folk so convincing the crew shouldn’t be so hard now that they’ve seen what luck you both can bring.” Lilian looked at Peter and smiled.

“We should like that very much, Captain Terne, thank you.” said the young lad. Lilian noticed the captain glancing down at Fritha, a curious look in his eyes.

“Would you like to stroke her?” she asked. The captain’s face lit up.

“My lady, only if I may.” Lilian giggled and reached into her pocket for a sour berry.

“Of course! Here, give her one of these and she’ll love you forever.” She handed it to him and he took it with great care. Fritha had already smelled it and was eagerly following its journey from hand to hand. The seasoned sailor bent down low and held his left hand out for Fritha to smell. As he opened it to reveal the berry, he touched her neck with his right hand. Fritha’s coat was currently a deep emerald green, like the ocean. His eyes widened as he saw it change colour to match his skin tone where he touched it.

“Remarkable…” he whispered under his breath. Lilian smiled, she loved seeing how people reacted when they saw Fritha up close.

Suddenly, the sounds of raised voices caught her attention. The captain heard them as well, and stood up to see what was going on. On the harbour floor, just before the slick boards met the sandy flagstones of the market, an argument was breaking out. Lilian squinted to see, lifting her hand to her brow to block out the sun. She tutted and mumbled under her breath,

“What’s she doing now?” Serena Bellaswan was raising her voice and stamping her foot in front of a tall man dressed in a dark, traditional robe. He wore a dark red wrap on his head and a stern expression on his face.

“Captain Terne, thank you for everything, we’ll find you again to arrange our return.” The captain smiled in understanding and bid them farewell.

It felt fantastic to have solid ground beneath her feet again, Fritha had been so excited she practically leaped down the boarding plank. Lilian had no time to savour the sensation though as Serena’s altercation was drawing the attention of a small crowd. Peter was marching close behind, they both carried their travel bags over their shoulders and Lilian was quickly beginning to realise why everyone wore baggy clothes and covered their heads. The heat was oppressive, like the hottest summer day in Benlunar but without any wind or chance of rain. They reached Serena in just a few seconds. The argument was reaching its climax and for the first time ever, Lilian thought she saw a single hair out of place on Serena’s forehead. The other passenger, the older man, was also there. He was apparently part of Serena’s travelling retinue, a guide or relative of some kind to ensure her safety and attend to her wellbeing. At that moment, he was standing off to one side looking sheepish beside her two large travelling trunks. Lilian let Peter step ahead of her, preferring to assess the situation before stepping in.

“Miss Bellaswan?” he said, meekly, and she spun round quickly, turning her ire on him. Her face softened a little when she saw who was speaking, but she still looked furious. “Is everything alright?”

“Peter dearest, everything is NOT alright. This ‘gentleman’ has just informed me that our residence won’t be ready for another two days! Where am I supposed to keep my things? Where am I supposed to sleep!?” Peter turned to the man.

“Can nothing be done?” The tall, imposing Zandtian folded his arms and shrugged. For the first time since they’d seen him from the deck of their ship, his expression softened a little.

“It’s hard to say,” his voice was gravelly and he spoke in a thick regional accent, “It is not my fault, huh? There is still a family in the house. Perhaps they could be persuaded to leave early…” He waved his hands in an odd, suggestive manner. Lilian didn’t quite understand the mannerism but Peter seemed to catch on. He turned back to them and lowered his voice.

“I’m not one hundred per cent, but I think he might be asking for a bribe…” A look of understanding fell upon Serena’s face. She had dealt with this kind of thing before. The look didn’t stay long however, as it quickly turned back to anger.

“I have been cooped up on a smelly ship for over a week. All I want is a bath, a tea and a bed. If you cannot give me that right this instant,” she stamped her foot, addressing the serious man in front of them, “then I’m sure there are plenty of other inn’s, guest houses or hotels that can accommodate us…” with that, she hitched up her skirt and looked ready to walk away when her travelling companion, the older man that had been on the ship with them interrupted her.

“Miss, the accommodation has been arranged and… paid for in advance. Your mother…” Serena let out an exasperated groan.

“URRGH! Fine!” She began reaching into the folds of her skirt, Lilian guessed she had a hidden pocket there where she kept her purse. “How much are we thinking, hm? Four bits? Six, seven?” Peter put a hand on her arm and stopped her.

“Hold on,” he said and turned back to the man, “Sir, please. I’m sure if the rooms are pleasant and the service is good then a reward at the end of the trip will suffice. We have travelled far and my friend needs a…” Suddenly, the man, having seen Serena reach for her purse and expecting an imminent prize, placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and in one swift movement, shoved him aside. Peter stumbled. The move hadn’t been quite enough to knock him over, but it was far too forceful to be considered friendly.

Lilian had stepped forward as soon as the man had raised his hand above waist height. She stood between him and Serena with a serious look on her face.

“Please don’t touch my friend,” she said softly, trying to keep her anger in check. For the first time since leaving Freedos she wished she still had Kissandra’s blade with her. The assassin had come to collect it during Lilian’s recovery as part of the deal for the information she’d given on the Weardian headquarters. The man stood two heads taller than Lilian and scowled at her, annoyed at the interruption.

“This is business, child. Step out of the way.” He went to lift his hand up again to move her aside, just like he had done with Peter, but Lilian was ready. She brought her right hand up to block his wrist, the impact sent a pang of pain through her injured arm, but she didn’t care. In a flash she had his hand in a lock and twisted it round and back causing the man to wince. Holds like these were easy to block in a fight, but if they caught you by surprise, there was little you could do to break loose. The man choked on his breath as Lilian brought him slowly down to his knees. Fritha was there waiting for him, becoming visible just in time for him to see her dagger sharp teeth bared and slowly approaching his neck. Lilian saw his eyes widen in terror as Fritha’s jaws opened. She spoke softly,

“My friend can move into her residence today, correct?” The man resisted for a second, but Lilian twisted his arm an inch further. He let out a high pitched sound before nodding emphatically. Lilian let him go and he stood up quickly, rubbing his arm and attempting to fix his wounded pride. If looks could kill then Lilian would have been dead ten times over. Without a sound, he grabbed one of Serena’s travelling trunks and mumbled,

“Welcome to Zandt.”

Episode 43

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In an opulent office on the top floor of the Weardian headquarters in Freedos, Lilian Lausanne is standing stock still. A voice in her head is screaming at her to move, but fear has frozen her legs and shortened her breath to the point where free and fluid movement have become impossible. The man in front of her, a young Weardian officer, just drank an entire canister of Nightshade and Lilian was having difficulty knowing how to react. She could run out of the office door and be faced with the remaining Weardian force, or she could stick to the original plan and try to get out of the window and climb down the wall of the building to street level. As she watched the last drop of purple potion fall into the man’s mouth she tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.

Suddenly he dropped the canister and doubled over, clutching his stomach. The container hit the carpet with a thud and rolled towards Lilian’s feet. A memory sparked in her mind. The last time she’d watched someone take Nightshade the same thing had happened. Alexi Genaro, the self proclaimed freedom fighter, had drunk the potion near Chekhad Square. The same thing had happened to him as was happening to this young officer right now. Lilian quickly recalled the fight in her mind. The thugs he had been dealing with had reached for a crossbow rather than running straight forward and attacking him. In the time it had taken to load the weapon though, the Nightshade had taken effect and its strengthening capabilities had enhanced Genero’s body. Perhaps there was a window there, a few seconds where the Nightshade needed time to act. A groan escaped from the young officer’s body. He was still crouching down, clutching his abdomen as if he’d just been hit by the world’s worst stomach ache.

Lilian wasted no more time. She pushed her fears aside and put energy back into her legs. Giving the officer a wide berth she rushed round to the right, carving a wide arc towards the open window. He noticed her moving and looked as though he tried to block her path, but the pain was too great and he was forced to the floor once again. Lilian said a silent thank you to whichever god or goddess was watching over her. A couple more gold crowns spilled from her bag, but she ignored them, content with the bulk of the hall still being secure.

She was two steps away from the window sill, practically home free, when a deafening crash stopped her mid run.

The young officer had crawled over to the desk, reached up to grab a heavy glass paperweight and had hurled it at Lilian. Thankfully, the Nightshade was still taking effect so his aim had been off and the heavy orb had hit the wall, shattering into a thousand glass shards upon impact. Lilian cursed his persistence. Before she could take another step he had reached for a candelabra and was throwing that as well. This time, his aim was better and Lilian had to take two steps back to avoid it. The candles fell away midair and the heavy metal object hit the wall with a clang before falling to the floor. Lilian glanced over at the wall, the impact had left a large dent in the paneling. She cursed, the Nightshade was taking effect. Within a few seconds he would be filled with years of amassed strength and reflexes. She looked back at him in time to dodge a book aimed at her head. His eyes were already beginning to bleed that eerie purple ichor, the telltale signifier of a Nightshade user. His breathing was becoming heavier too, occasionally he would let out a grunt when he threw something and when he spoke, his voice was noticeably deeper.

“I will stop you!”

Lilian had run out of time. What’s more, she was pinned in the corner. She’d let her opponent control the middle of the space and he had a large supply of projectiles to hand. These were basic mistakes and she cursed her panic stricken brain for letting her make them. Mr Attorcop would not be happy. She spun to her right to dodge an incoming inkwell. It exploded in a shower of black liquid when it hit the wall. Anger began to rise up inside Lilian, shoving fear and panic aside. Stuff this, she thought, and before her attacker could grab anything else, she pushed herself off the wall, and went on the attack.

To an outside observer, or indeed, anyone who knew anything about Nightshade, this was a bad idea. But Lilian had no other choice, he was blocking her exit and would only keep growing stronger unless she put him out of action. She dodged left and right as she moved towards him, trying to confuse his ichor addled eyes. He focused his attention on her and Lilian saw his fingers widen, this showed her that he was going to try and grab her. Good, she thought, he was a little bigger than her so she should be able to avoid his grasp. She feinted left and he took the bait, lunging clumsily to where he thought she was going. Instead, Lilian dropped down and disappeared from his line of sight, using her forward momentum to propel herself between his legs. She stood up quickly, but not to her full height. She had anticipated his twisting backward punch and so remaining crouched she kicked out at his knee. His center of gravity was off from the twist and as Mr Attorcop had once said, ‘you can be as strong as you like, but you can’t beat gravity.’ And so Lilian used gravity to her advantage, shoving the officer with all her might as he tried to find his footing after the kick. Luckily, it worked. The officer fell and so now Lilian had the advantage. She reached blindly behind her at the desk and closed her fingers on the first thing she came into contact with. It was cold, and heavy. Lilian had to shift her body to compensate for its weight. She bought the object up and over her head just as the officer was beginning to stand up. Suddenly, she felt water splashing down the back of her neck and she realised that she’d grabbed the large glass vase. There was no time to reconsider. A shower of flowers cascaded all around her as she brought the vase down directly on top of the officer’s head.

The impact had been enough to shatter the glass and send the officer back down to the floor with a sickening crack. Lilian looked up, the path to the window was clear, but something drew her attention to the back of the room. A small cloud of smoke was coming from the far bookcase, flickering flames writhing at the base.

‘Twelve Hells…” she cursed. Quickly stepping over the young officer, who was unconscious and unmoving, she glanced around the room for a means of fighting the fire. She saw one of the candles from the candelabra lying guiltily on the floor. It must have remained lit after the officer had thrown its base. A small voice in her brain told her to leave the fire and run, but that decision would undoubtedly lead to the death of the young man in front of her. No, she could be responsible for that, no matter how much hurt he had intended to inflict on her, she could not leave him to die. She remembered the fear that had been in his eyes when he’d seen her come out of her invisibility. He was still young, and his death would weigh too heavy on her heart.

Lilian’s spirits fell again when she looked around and realised that she’d just spent the only source of water in the room on knocking out her assailant. Muttering several more curses, she scanned the office. All she could see were books, shelves and papers. Every object her eyes fell on looked more flammable than the last. A groan from her feet drew her attention to the officer. His body was shifting a little and he seemed to be coming round. A loud crack drew her attention back to the fire, it had begun to creep up the bookshelf, within minutes, it would be out of control. Lilian glanced behind her for inspiration. There was a small, glass shelving unit on the opposite wall to the window. On it were several decanters and glass bottles containing different coloured liquids. She ran over to it and grabbed one, acting on pure instinct at this point. Thankfully, common sense still resided somewhere in her panicking mind. She unstoppered the bottle and sniffed the contents. She reeled back at the pungent and unmistakable odor which invaded her nostrils and stung her eyes. Alcohol. If she’d thrown this on the fire, the whole room would have gone up like the Garrow’s barn. She threw the bottle to one side in frustration, all decorum having left her. She went back to the bottles and looked for anything clear. Surely whoever worked here must mix their spirits with something, she thought, picking up bottle after bottle and smelling the liquid inside. Finally, on the fourth bottle, she couldn’t smell anything. Her heart jumped with joy, water!

Lilian rushed over to the bookshelf. The flames were up to her eyeline now. She had to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve as she approached the blaze. Her eyes hurt from having to keep them open amidst the cloud of ash that was now spewing out of the bookshelf. She focused them on the base of the fire and tipped the bottle over it as best she could. The glug-glug of the water preceded a satisfying hiss as the liquid hit the flames. She aimed the neck of the bottle up to the books that were being licked black by the fire. She watched the precious, life-saving liquid drain from the bottle. Her eyes were crying from the sting of the smoke but she kept at it. Emptying the bottle all over the carpet, the bookshelf and the surrounding floorboards, she made sure every last drop was spent before throwing the bottle on the floor, satisfied that the fire was finally out. Now she could escape with a clear conscience and head down to rescue Mr Attorcop from the basement cells.

Just then, she heard a scraping, shifting sound coming from behind her. Turning slowly, Lilian saw a dark shape starting to loom up and above her. All the air left her lungs, all the strength drained from her legs. The young Weardian officer had woken up, the Nightshade having quickened his recovery, and he was standing with his left arm raised above his head. In his hand, suspended as if by magic or some deific power, he held the massive wooden desk. Lilian took a gulp of air but coughed it back out quickly as the hot ash from the fire still choked the air around her. She tried to spit and splutter a word, a cry for help, anything. But no words escaped her. In a flash, too quick to be human, the officer heaved the table towards her, uttering his repeated warning that now became a dreadful threat.

“I WILL STOP YOU.” This single idea had taken control of his mind as was made obvious by this drastic attack. Lilian barely had time to flinch before the desk was sent careening through the smokey air. She brought her arms up, crossed in front of her face in defence but there was nothing she could do but brace for impact. The full force of the furniture hit her like a galloping horse. Lilian was instantly knocked back and felt a sharp pain in her right forearm. The table flattened her body against the wall behind her and even though most of the air had been pushed out of her lungs, she had thankfully managed to remain conscious. She had anticipated more damage and couldn't understand why she hadn't been completely obliterated by the heavy oak table. In the dark space between wall and table though she was able to notice a crack in the bookshelf to her right. It seemed as though the books had taken the brunt of the force, a few lay piled by her feet. Still, her arm hurt like Hell and she suspected a broken femur at the very least.

As quickly as it had appeared, the table was pulled away. The young officer, blinded by rage and power, threw it aside as if it was a broken apple barrel. Lillian took in a shocked breath when she saw his eyes. They were now fully dyed sickly purple and had dark, raised veins all around them. Lillian caught a glimpse of more dark mauve liquid seeping out of their edges, like he was crying tears of thick claret. She kicked out, trying to put him off balance again, but this time he anticipated her attack. His hand whipped down just in time to catch her foot by the ankle. With a deep grunt he flicked his arm back and Lillian went flying forwards, foot first. She twisted mid-air and landed on her broken arm. A blinding light shot across her vision as her whole body winced from the pain.

Lilian tried to open her eyes but her vision was blurry from the impact. Determined not to give up, she attempted to stand. But it was no use. In two seconds, the officer was on her and she felt a pair of abnormally strong hands grip her shirt and trousers. Her vision returned in time for her to see the carpet rush back into the distance as she was unceremoniously hoisted into the air. Lilian began to kick and flail above the officer’s head, sending the odd gold coin flying out of her bag, but to no avail. The officer's grip was too strong and even punching him in the head, which she managed to do twice with her good hand, was useless. The officer ignored the blows like they were flies buzzing about. Lilian felt a new kind of dread when she looked up and realised she was being walked towards the window. Her mind reeled and she resorted to desperate pleas.

"No, I beg you! You don't have to do this, stop! Please stop!" But her prayers fell on deaf ears and with a final lurching heave, Lilian was thrown out of the open window.

Lilian Lausanne had heard it said once, that in times of great danger time appears to slow. The trillion fibres of the mind fire at once in response to the stress and a person interprets this by seeing the world move more slowly. This allows the brain to see previously hidden solutions, fire warnings to the body to move out of the way of danger and do all that it can to save its fragile corporeal cage. For Lilian flying through the window however, none of this was true. One moment she was in the hot, ash-filled office, the next she was feeling the evening breeze on her face. And no sooner did she notice the flagstones down on the road below, did she see them rushing up towards her at break neck speed. Thankfully, she had the sense and time to cover her head with her arms. She’d fallen off horses and ladders in the past, but this impact would not be so forgiving. She braced herself, took a breath and shut her eyes.

“Lilian! Lilian??”

After some time, Lilian was not sure exactly how long, she began to hear something. Through fuzzy darkness, a voice was speaking. It sounded familiar. Was it saying… a name? Yes. And not just any name. It was her name. It was both strange and familiar. Nearby but also very far away. Her ears latched onto the sound and let it guide her mind back to waking. As soon as she was able to open her eyes to see who it was that was speaking however, she was met by intense pain coursing through her body. A white hot sharpness punctured every breath, a heavy stinging came from her right arm and her head was beating out a rhythmic, throbbing ache which blurred her vision and muddled her mind. The voice nearby was persistent though, so she opened her eyes to try and make sense of her surroundings. Although the sun was setting there was still enough light to make her eyes hurt.

“Lilian? Oh, you’re awake, thank goodness.” She recognised the voice just as its owner came into focus.

“Katherine?” Lilian tried saying her friend’s name, but only a quiet, creaky whisper came out.

“Don’t speak my love, we’re going to get you somewhere safe.” Lilian was able to shift her head enough to get a better sense of her surroundings. Katherine was kneeling beside her and looking about for someone who could help them. The sky was tinted pink by the setting sun and despite the fact that it was a warm, balmy evening, a large dark cloud hung above them. She followed the cloud, which was moving at an alarming rate, and saw that her eyes had deceived her again. This was no storm cloud, but a steady stream of black smoke pouring out of several of the windows above her. Odd, she thought. She could have sworn she had put out the fire. The memory of the blaze sparked the rest of her mind to life and Lilian could suddenly remember everything that had happened prior to her untimely ejection from the building via the office window. She had no idea why Katherine was here but before asking she decided to check to see whether her bag of coins was still by her side. She lifted her head slightly, sending a jolt of pain down her neck but she saw it, tucked under the small of her back. Her right hand went to touch it and she could feel the hard metal beneath the canvas. It was all there. Technically, she had succeeded in leaving the building with the contents of the coffers, but it was a bit of a pyrrhic victory considering her current condition. And Mr Attorcop! The thought of him spurred her to speak even though her mouth was dry and each word was agony.

“Crom… well…”

“Hush my darling, don’t speak, Taymore will be here soon and we can get you somewhere safe.” Lilian didn’t recognise the name Taymore, so was confused as to who that might be. Katherine went back to looking about, occasionally she would tense her body and Lilian would feel a small pang where her hand would squeeze her shoulder. Lilian turned her head. There were a lot more people around than she had thought. Weardian officers carrying buckets rushed too and fro, in and out of the burning building. Bystanders gathered in small crowds, some were pointing at her and Katherine. There was an atmosphere of panic and confusion. Lilian wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been arrested yet but gathered that the fire must have taken priority over finding the thief. Besides, if no one had actually seen her being thrown out of the window, then she was just an injured young girl. The bystanders would assume she’d been knocked down by a horse or something. Lilian thanked the heavens for the small victory.

“Please, excuse me! We need help!” Katherine was trying to stop the odd Weardian officer as they rushed past, but they were too busy with the fire to acknowledge her, or perhaps too selfish to care. Lilian managed a small smile, so much work to save an office that was currently unable to pay them. If they chose to help an injured girl, they would be saving their jobs. The irony tasted sweet. “Please, anyone!” Lilian could hear desperation in Katherine’s voice. Lilian wanted to say that she was fine, but she noticed then that Katherine’s hand was stained red. The shock from the crimson stain caused her vision to blur again. She was hurting so much all over that she had no idea from where or how badly she was bleeding. She looked back up at Katherine and her vision focused enough to see that she was crying.

“Please! I need help, my friend is hurt!” Her quiet pleas had become desperate shouts, but still no one paid her any attention. One officer even jostled into her and carried on without so much as an apology. Katherine began to sob. It hurt Lilian to see her friend like this, she wanted to say that she was okay. But the words caught in her throat. Which was itself a sign that she was not okay.

Suddenly, as if answering some low whispered prayer, a figure dressed all in white and gold appeared above them. It was a man and when he spoke, his voice was low and calm.

“Good evening little rabbits. The sun is sadly setting, but perhaps I might shine its light on you both?” Katherine looked up and smiled in relief. Lilian turned her head and saw the bright white coat and shining blue eyes of Zadoch Korshid. He knelt down beside her and Lilian could see that his eyes were flecked with gold and had a mad look in them. Her heart jumped at the sight of a friendly face. Zadoch smiled and spoke in earnest.

“It looks as though you are in need of... help.” Lilian kept her mouth shut, even in this dire situation, she knew not to accept the help of a Holy Solar Pater.

“Yes, please Mr Zadoch.” Lilian’s heart sank. Katherine did not know. She shifted and began to speak…

“No… Kath… don’t.”

“Please Lilian, try and be quiet. See Mr Zadoch, she’s hurt. I don’t know what happened.” Zadoch looked her over with a healer’s eye and furrowed his brow.

“Hm… and where is our friend Cromwell?” Katherine looked around.

“I… I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him.” Zadoch looked once at Lilian who met his eye with what she hoped was a stern, disapproving expression. Zadoch then saw the bag at her side, looked back at the burning building and pieced the whole thing together.

“I think I understand. If my supposition is correct, Cromwell will be somewhere in there. Doubtless fearful for his life. The fire is spreading quickly.” Katherine began to breathe quickly, taking big gulps of hot, ash filled air with each panicked breath.

“Could you help him too?” She asked, her voice laden with despair. Zadoch responded with a shining bright smile.

“Yes, that should not pose a problem.” Katherine looked relieved.

“Thank you, Mr Zadoch, thank you. Now, if you could help me lift Lilian…” Zadoch, interrupted her.

“No need my dear. Just hold out your hand and speak aloud that you officially and unequivocally require and desire my help, in full knowledge that I am a practitioner and pater of the Holy Solar Order. Give me your hand child, and all will be well.” Katherine did as she was told. She looked confused but seemed ready to do anything in order for help to be given, even a silly thing like shaking hands. Lilian tried to protest.

“No… Katherine… don’t.”

“Yes… fine…” She went on, ignoring Lilian, “I officially ask for your help. Now if you could just…” Zadoc interrupted her by going to touch her outstretched hand. Lilian could only look on in horror, as he turned Katherine’s palm to face the sky and then sandwiched it between his two hands. He was kneeling now and had his eyes closed as if in prayer. When he spoke, his voice was different. A little deeper, perhaps, more serious.

“I accept your request and by the power of the sun, shall fulfill your wish above and beyond the capacity of mortal men.” Katherine’s face was a picture of confusion. Lilian cursed her broken body and knew that if she survived, she would live to regret being unable to stop the pact that had just taken place before her. The sun finally set behind the old volcano but the light began to grow.

It was small at first, like a single candle at the back of the Stave Church. But then it was joined by others, little lights flickering on around the first. Within seconds Lilian was surrounded by a light as strong as a small fire. She looked around for its source, expecting to see a mass of paper lanterns or a cart having caught a flame from the nearby building. But there was nothing. Then, the light intensified as Zadoch Korshid leant towards her. Lilian had trouble keeping her focus on him, but she thought she could make out the shape of him holding his hands over her. He held them one over the other, both palms down and fingers splayed out. The light grew stronger still, strong enough to force Lilian to shut her eyes. Her next breath came easier than the last, and with each one that followed, the worst of the pain began to subside. Her head became slightly less heavy, her arm: more relaxed and movable. The process did not last long but by the end of it Lilian felt considerably better. She was even able to open her eyes and move about without too much difficulty. She propped herself up on her left elbow and looked at Zadoch.

“That’s all I can do for now. I should hurry to help Cromwell.” And without another word, he stood up and left, too fast for Lilian to even thank him. As he disappeared from view, the light left with him. With it, went a strange heat that had been growing for some time. Lilian turned around to watch Zadoch stride across the road towards the entrance of the Weardian Headquarters. He was largely ignored by the officers nearby who were still preoccupied with putting out the fire. Perhaps, Lilian would ponder later, if there hadn’t been a fire, they would have sensed the heat coming from behind them in time. Some of them did turn when he got too close. Lilian heard them shout warnings first and threats soon after. None of their words or gestures distracted Zadoch though. He walked forwards with a calm, constant pace. Lilian still wasn’t fully recovered and so had to shut her eyes when once again, the light became too bright. The heat was also back and growing in intensity by the second. Lilian continued to keep her eyes shut and even turned her face away from its source which she took to be Zadoch himself, or something close to him.

Suddenly the light dipped, Zadoch must have entered the building. Even from this far away, she could still feel the heat. Those inside the Weardian headquarters must have felt it too, only with greater intensity. She began to hear screaming from inside the building. Lilian thought of the sun, of the incredible power by which it gave the world life, and of the terrible reminder of how it took it away.

Episode 42

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian had to remind herself to keep breathing. Her heart was thumping so heavily she worried that it might give her away. She and Mr Attorcop had successfully infiltrated the Weardian headquarters in Laga quarter with the goal of stealing a large sum of money from their coffers. It was their hope that taking this stash for their own would rob the Weardian of their pay for the next few months and without a cash incentive to work, the group of uniformed thugs would disband. With the army off quashing a revolution in some far off land and the city devoid of police the people might be persuaded to turn on their leaders and the palace would be easier to overwhelm and the system of power could be overturned. Simple enough, thought Lilian, but first things first. She had just seen Mr Attorcop disappear around a corner and taken down to the dungeon. Under any other circumstances this would be deeply troubling, but thankfully it was all part of the plan. Lilian had lifted a spare set of keys from one of the guards outside and she planned on using them later to set him free. The keys would hopefully also prove useful in accessing the coffers, but that remained to be seen. At this very moment Lilian was waiting for a Weardian officer to move away from a table. He was blocking her path to the next staircase and she needed to make it all the way to the top floor to find the room with the safe in it. Thankfully she had prepared for a long time before starting the mission and was currently using the ability to turn invisible that she borrowed from a few strands of Fritha’s fur. All she had to do was be patient, breathe quietly and she should be fine.

The first floor was one large, open space filled with desks. There was no order to their placement, they seemed to be dotted around the room in a fashion dictated by time and convenience. Each one had sheets of parchment scattered on its surface and most had a Weardain officer seated by or standing next to them. Lilian had expected the building to be filled with men but there was the occasional woman sitting and scribbling away. The place looked built for rigorous record keeping but as the Weardian powers had grown, the need for strict records must have faded away and this office space had become neglected. When your word is law, you don’t need to justify your actions to anyone. The officer blocking Lilian’s path was deep in thought, studying a letter of some kind. He had an angular face that for a second Lilian thought she recognised. He must have been one of the officers that had stopped her and Katherine that day she first met the imposter Simos Helmont. She didn’t let herself become distracted.

“Taymor?” A voice from the other side of the room caught the officer’s attention. He stood up straight to see who had called his name and then moved away from his desk to go and see what they wanted. Lilian thanked the gods. Keeping low she moved up along the path between the desks. Her camouflage was impressive but it would not survive close scrutiny and it worked best when she kept very still. Even with all the wonders of gloaming on her side, Lilian still had to be careful. Keeping her head down then she dodged round a wicker basket filled with scrunched up parchment, waited four seconds for a young woman to walk past her and darted between two desks and then stopped again. The staircase was within spitting distance, but she couldn’t risk it right now. There was a small group of officers, two men and a woman, standing close in conversation. One of the men was regaling the others with a story.

“So I pick up the pouch and give it a sniff right? And I look at him and say, ‘you got a permit for selling this stuff?’ and he looks at me like he’s seen his dead dad’s ghost.” The man couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Suddenly, his colleague chimed in.

“You don’t need a permit for tobacco.”

“I know that you twit but he didn’t” the rest of the group joined in with the joke, throwing their heads back in glee. “So anyway, fortnite goes past and I’m downstairs chattin’ to Francis and this little fellow comes in, never seen him before, shakin in his boots, goes up to the front desk and says: ‘g-good morning, I’d like to apply for a tobacco license please’” the group erupted in another explosion of laughter. The storyteller slapped his colleague on the back and choked words out between cackles, “What’d I say? Eh? Word gets round! Jeremy on the desk looked like he’d been slapped. He didn’t know what to give the poor bloke!” Suddenly the laughter was cut short, replaced by strict silence. Lilian craned her neck round a corner to understand why. The man who had impeded her progress moments ago was walking over to the group. His angular face stern and his gait filled with reproachful purpose. He had fair hair that was cut short and the shoulders of his long green coat were adorned with blue straps, marking him out as some kind of senior officer, Lilian didn’t know the right term. A sergeant perhaps?

“Jacobs, Smythe, Anders.” He spoke the officer’s names like he was spitting out poison.

“Sir,” the three of them spoke in unison, standing to attention when they heard their names. The senior weardian left them to stew in an uncomfortable silence before speaking.

“Seeing as you all have the time to swap such… amusing tales. I trust this means you’re finished with your duties for the morning?” The man who had told the story, spoke up, not daring to look his superior in the eye.

“Yes Sir, just on a break after patrolling Bonneville…”

“Excellent,” the fair-haired man cut him off, “I’ve just been told that we’ve apprehended Attorcop,” Lilian watched the three officer’s eyes widen in surprise, “Seeing as you’re all finished with your duties you can process the paperwork before his interview.” Judging by their body language, it looked to Lilian like they had just been told to clean out the stables with their bare hands. “Dismissed.” The officers dispersed, crestfallen, and Lilian watched the fair haired sergeant pause before going back to his desk. In the brief moment before moving, she could have sworn she saw his eyes narrow in suspicion and glance around in her general direction. She knew there could be no way he could spot her, but she ducked her head down just in case. When the area was clear and everyone was on the other side of the room, Lilian took one final glance around to see if anyone was watching the stairs. With everyone’s heads down and no one blocking her path anymore, Lilian headed for the upper level, keeping low and slow so as to not alert anyone. Strangely, her heart beat had calmed down. As she crept closer to the staircase, she began to feel as though the plan might actually work, the thought eased her nerves and renewed her confidence.

The top floor of the Weardian building was thankfully much quieter. The stairs lead on to a single hallway that seemed to stretch the entire length of the floor. Doors lined the walls on either side and lead to one set of large double doors at the very end. The corridor was quiet but Lilian could see shadows moving in the crack at the bottom of the set of double doors, she was not out of the woods just yet. She knew that the room containing the coffers was on this floor, but she did not know which room they were in.

As soon as she stepped towards the first door, she felt a wave of tiredness wash over her body. She had stayed in gloaming this long before, but she was approaching her limit and her body was reminding her that she had the whole journey back down the building yet to go. She persevered and moved up to the first door. A whispered curse slipped her lips when she realised that all the doors were blank. None had plaques or signs denoting what was behind them so Lilian would have to try each one. This would add time to the mission, time she did not have. Lilian sighed and reached her hand out to grab the handle on the first door. Nightmare scenarios were running through her mind, what if there were people in the room? What if the doors were rigged with some sort of alarm? Her heart began to beat quickly again. Come on Lilian, she thought to herself, you’ve come this far, no sense in backing down now. She felt the cool metal of the handle on her fingertips and was about to twist it downwards when she noticed the keyhole beneath it. Idiot, she thought, just look through the keyhole! Kicking herself and calming down a bit, she removed her hand and leant forward. She couldn’t see much through the small hole, a few tall cupboards, some with metal grating over them instead of doors. Kissandra had assured them that the money would be kept in a safe and so, not seeing one of those, Lilian moved on to the next door.

It wasn’t until the fifth door, which was the third on the left, that Lilian got lucky. Seconds before looking through the keyhole, she thought she heard someone coming up the staircase, but thankfully it was just a pair of heavy boots sounding at the bottom of the stairs. As she went to look through the keyhole she noticed that her hand was regaining some of its opacity. She whispered a silent prayer to the Padda Stone and looked through the small hole. The room was a messy one. It was a similar size to the others she’d observed but had a lot more papers strewn about it as well as a shelving unit, tall as the ceiling, stacked with leather bound folders, papers tied with string and even the occasional cylindrical map case. Lilian’s heart skipped a beat however when her eyes landed on the large metal safe in the corner. That must be it, she thought. She reached down to the ring of keys on her belt and sent another prayer to Gorakja himself that the right one would be on here. The officer to whom they belonged to would have noticed they were missing by now, but if Mr Attorcop was to be believed then ‘he would be too busy trying to fix his mistake before admitting to anyone he’d lost something so important’.

It only took two wrong keys. The third one slid into the lock and with a satisfying ‘click’, twisted easily to the left. Lilian slipped into the room and locked the door behind her. She considered trying to move the shelving unit in front of it to prevent anyone coming in, but thought better of it when she realised that she may need to make a speedy getaway. With a sigh of relief, she came out of gloaming and let herself rest. If anyone came down the corridor to check on the coffers, she would be able to hear them and she had a few spare hairs of Fritha’s in her pocket for when she would need to become invisible again. For now, it was better to conserve her energy. She didn’t know how long Katrina’s liquid would take to eat away at the iron walls of the safe.

Pulling the vial out from her sleeve (another habit she seemed to be picking up from Mr Attorcop) she inspected the safe. It was nearly as tall as she was and was sitting, squatly in the corner of the room like a large and very stubborn child. It was made of black metal and had painted curling details on the corners in faded gold. On the front were the names of the safemakers in large and slightly chipped lettering,

Messrs Gripe and Falcon

Combination Safes

No. 000324

Below the text was the large, black spinning dial. It was encircled by a hundred little notches all individually painted in painstaking detail. Lilian couldn’t resist giving it a spin. It sped around quickly, clicking all the way as the tiny teeth inside tried to find purchase on the locking mechanism. Lilian had heard of expert thieves who could crack open a safe just like this just by listening closely to how each little click differed from each other. But she had no time to pick up such skills, hers was a more destructive form of thievery.

Lilian unscrewed the top of the vial and carefully tipped the liquid over the top edge, letting it slither down the side of the safe. She held her breath as she worked, not wanting to inhale any dangerous fumes. Katrina’s strange liquid was thick and dark green. Lilian knew that just a few drops would probably do, but she did not want to have to repeat the process again and so emptied out half the vial. At first, nothing happened and panicked thoughts of betrayal rushed through Lilian’s mind, quickening her already stressed out heart. But after a few more seconds the green ooze began to bubble and hiss. Lilian glanced back at the door hoping the noise wouldn’t attract anyone passing through the corridor. She accessed her gloaming powered hearing once more and tried to listen over the din of hissing and gurgling coming from the safe for any Weardian officers outside. Thankfully, there were none. A few mumbling words from the office at the end of the corridor, but no oncoming footfalls from the staircase. She turned back to check on the safe and was amazed at the progress. In a matter of seconds, the liquid had thinned out a large section of the thick metal wall so that it was nearly as thin as parchment. There was still some of the acidic mixture left, bubbling and eating away at the metal like it was boiling water poured on a sheet of ice. Lilian stepped closer and could already see the glint of gold through tiny holes in the safe wall. Those holes grew bigger and then bigger still until Lilian could comfortably fit her hand right through the wall of the safe. She waited ofcourse until all the liquid was dissolved and used up, but as soon as it was safe she reached in and grabbed a fistful of the safe’s precious contents. Pulling out her hand slowly so as to not catch it on the now jagged metal, Lilian marvelled at her spoils. With just one hand she managed to grab nine golden crowns, and four silver bits. The reflecting glow of the gold lit up the dark corner of the room and Lilian let out a slow breath. This was more money than she would make in a year working for Mr Twitchett, and this was just the first handful!

With a jolt, she snapped out of the daydream of bringing this money back to Benlunar and began filling the hessian shoulder bag she’d brought with her. A small fear began to creep into her head as she moved the coins from the safe to the bag. Each handful that landed in the sack did so with more noise than the last. Would she be able to sneak past everyone downstairs again with this clattering racket strapped over her shoulder? Pushing that fear to the side for the moment she leaned into the safe until her shoulder touched the broken wall. She swept her hand across both shelves, checking that every last coin was gone. Her fingers fell on a stray crown which she picked up and pulled out so that it could join its brothers in her bag. Before she put it away though, Lilian could not help looking at the etched outline of the Empress’s profile on the side of the coin. Even though the job was not over yet, she permitted herself a gloating smile. Sorry I could not keep our appointment your majesty, she thought to herself, I was too busy stealing your money.

Just then she heard a sound that made her stomach lurch. Someone outside in the hallway, just a few feet from the safe room door, coughed loudly as they cleared their throat. Lilian hadn’t heard them come up the stairs, perhaps they had just left the office at the end of the corridor and she had been too distracted to notice? Either way it didn’t matter, because the sound was so loud and surprising it caused her to flinch and drop the coin she was holding. As it hit the ground it made Lilian wince. She knew that to anyone else it would have sounded like a light ringing, but with her heightened hearing she experienced it as a deafening high-pitched reverberation. She brought her hands up quickly to her ears while she recalibrated her senses.

“Who’s there?” A low voice came from beyond the door. Lilian’s eyes widened in shock. Bending down quickly she picked up the coin and shoved it into her bag. Her stomach dropped as she heard the distinct rattling of keys. She glanced around for somewhere to hide but the room was too small. She was panicking so much she nearly forgot that she didn’t need a hiding spot, she could cloak herself from sight. Quick as a flash she reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out one of Fritha’s hairs from the bunch she had stored there. With the sound of feet getting closer to the door, she did the first thing that came to mind and popped the hair into her mouth, and threw her body as silently as she could at the space behind the door. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She could feel the hair distinctly between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. With a calming breath she let its essence flow into her body and combine with her gloaming. Had she tried this three months ago it would have taken her the better part of half an hour, but thankfully with all the practise she had been doing recently, it worked in a matter of seconds. Having the hair in her mouth seemed to help for some reason. She supposed that made sense, after all, that was how the body traditionally absorbed things. She knew she had to keep calm and breathe as deeply and normally as possible but when the keys rattled in the lock and clicked the door open she couldn’t help but hold her breath as the handle turned and a man walked into the room.

He was old, not quite as old as Mr Attorcop, but older than most of the officers downstairs. His hair was grey and he had a very impressive mustache which had been waxed at the ends into curling tips. Lilian caught a glimpse of some shining badges on his uniform so she assumed he must be some sort of Captain. He entered the room cautiously and looked around. Lilian’s heart lurched when he turned around to glance behind the door but her skin and clothes had shifted just in time for him to think he was looking at an empty space. It helped a great deal that the light was low in this room and that she was in a particularly dark corner. Gloaming invisibility was incredible, but did not stand up well against strong scrutiny. Thankfully the man’s gaze did not linger on her but instead shot swiftly to the ceiling and then back around to the shelving unit on the opposite side of the room. Lilian saw his bushy eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. Suddenly, he saw the safe and he froze for a second before approaching it.

“What the blazes…” she heard him whisper as he approached. His movements quickened when he realised what he was looking at. He rushed over to the safe and bent down to have a look through the hole in its side. When he saw that its contents had been emptied he shouted a very loud and very rude word. Lilian saw the panic in his eyes as he turned around sharply and rushed out of the open doorway. She let out a long breath as she heard his footsteps clattering down the staircase. She was equally thankful to have evaded detection and nervous about what the captain was about to do.

Quickly collecting her thoughts she took steps to avoid panicking. If she let nerves or chaos cloud her judgement, she would not get out of here in one piece. She shut her eyes for just a second, took in a deep, calming breath… and let it out. She relaxed her shoulders and tilted her head from side to side, stretching her neck. When she opened her eyes, the plan was clear in her head.

Checking on her energy reserves, Lilian guessed she would have just enough time to get to Mr Attorcop before she started to black out from exhaustion. She had barely moved three hundred feet since entering the building, but her body was already feeling like it had run several miles. She exited the little room, pressing the bag against her body so as to limit the jangling sound it made every time she moved. As she stepped back into the corridor she could hear shouts and heavy steps coming from down below. The alarm had been raised. Every weardian in the building would be on high alert for the next several hours. Lilian’s heart dropped at first but then she wondered if the chaos caused by her theft might work to her advantage. If everyone was rushing around like headless chickens, they might not notice a little invisible girl slip by. She took a few steps towards the staircase, glancing down at her free hand just to make sure she was still hidden. It was still a strange sensation to look down at where her hand should be, only to see straight through to the floor. Lilian was nearly at the top step when she heard the footfall of heavy boots heading up in her direction. This corridor was too open to be an effective hiding place, even with Fritha’s camouflage. Lilian turned around and ran back down the corridor. There wasn’t enough time to find the right keys for these other doors so she headed back to the room she’d just come from.

No you fool, she thought to herself, that’s probably where they’re all heading. She glanced around desperately for another way out, a hiding place, a window or… an open door. There, at the end of the corridor, the large double doors were slightly ajar, a slither of light escaped from where they met in the middle. It hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. She ran at top speed, keeping the coins from rattling as best she could.

As she hit the door she allowed her momentum to carry her through it. She’d been right about it being unlocked but she barely had time to glance around what looked like a lavish office before closing it behind her, turning around and peering through the gap. Four men in weardian coats moved into view at the other end of the corridor half a second later. They moved quickly and with purpose. However, instead of heading to the safe room, like Lilian had thought they would, they headed to the first door on the right. Lilian remembered this room to house several cupboards and storage units some of which were protected by locked, metal grates. Lilian heard the sound of keys jangling and watched as the men piled into the room as soon as the door was open. The one at the end of the line lingered a little, he looked younger than the rest, his expression was different, less intense. Nervous perhaps, Lilian thought. He barely had time to collect himself and enter before the first man was back out again, handing him something. Lilian strained to listen.

“Remember, only if you need it.” Lilian saw the young officer nod his head, his eyes looked wary. She strained her neck to see if she could catch what had just been handed to him, but the other officer was blocking it from her view. A weapon perhaps?

“First time?” The older man said.

“Yeah.” The young officer’s face was pale.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it. Only if you need it, though, understood?” More nervous nods.

“Let’s go.” With that, they rushed back downstairs and Lilian breathed out a sigh of relief. She knew she had to follow them in a moment, but for now, she was alone.

She looked back at the office behind her. It’s walls were panelled with dark polished wood, with pictures of serious looking men in uniform hanging on all sides. A pink and cream floral carpet covered the floor. It was bigger than Lilian’s bedroom, with perfectly combed tassels at either end. The centre of the room was dominated by a desk, tall and dark, its surface polished to a mirror shine. There were various ink wells, feather quills and candelabras arranged neatly along the edge nearest the door. The object that drew the eye the most however was a large vase made of cut crystal with a beautiful bouquet of lavender and white roses inside of it. A red leather chair, faded in places from years of wear, stood behind the desk proudly, framed on either side by two large and overstocked bookcases. Lilian gulped. One look around this room told her she would probably be treated with more leniency if she were to be caught physically robbing the safe, than merely stepping foot in this opulent office. Her curious heart was desperate to explore, but she had a job to do and the next step involved going all the way back through this building, and rescuing Mr Attorcop. She turned back to the double doors, but stopped before her body was fully facing the exit. Her eyes had fallen on one of the windows and a thought crept into her racing mind. Did she really need to creep all the way down the stairs, back through the room filled with desks and panicking weardian officers? Or could she simply reach the ground level by climbing down the outside of the building? She tiptoed over to the window to check exactly how high they were from street level.

Three weardian officers, suited in leather armour and carrying swords, rushed out from the main entrance to the building and dashed down the road towards Old Town. Lilian’s breath fogged up the glass as she studied the scene. The office was not as high up as she’d thought, she’d certainly climbed higher buildings during her time in Freedos. The officers below seemed so preoccupied with chasing an imaginary thief they probably would not think to look back and up at their own building. All this combined with the fact that she was still invisible, was enough to convince Lilian.

She reached up and flicked the latch open. A breeze drifted into the room as she opened the windows. The day had cooled down significantly now that evening was approaching and Lilian took a deep and calming breath of the fresh city air. She gripped the stone edge of the window sill and was about to hoist herself up and over, when there was a knock at the door.

“Sir?” There was a voice, coming from the otherside. Lilian had missed their approach down the corridor and now there was someone knocking to come in. With no time to waste, Lilian lifted herself up and began to swing her leg out and over the window sill. Her ears just caught the squeak of a door’s hinges before she heard a man’s voice cursing.

“Twelve Hells, hey!!” Lilian held her breath as she swung her other leg out and turned to lower herself down the walls. She would have preferred a more graceful escape but she had clearly been spotted and so a frantic scramble would have to make do. She’d found a foothold in the wall below her and was close to starting her descent when she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder.

As her body was lifted up and back into the room she wondered at how she had been spotted. Doubtless the man had come in, seen that the window was open and spotted her moving form trying to escape. As she sailed into the air she cursed her inability to achieve perfect invisibility. She’d come far, but it hadn’t been quite enough. A jolt of pain shot through her arm as she landed unceremoniously on the carpeted floor. A few soft thumping sounds accompanied her crash as some coins escaped her bag. She didn’t have time to count how many, for her attention was drawn immediately to her aggressor. She looked up from the floor to see a young man, the same young man in fact that she had seen moments ago accepting the weapon, or whatever it was, from his superior. Despite his age, he was strong and had been able to hoist Lilian up and through the window before throwing her to the floor. His boyish face was a picture of horror and confusion. Lilian realised that she hadn’t quite come out of gloaming so she must have looked like a strange, amorphous shape that occasionally leaked gold coins.

She stood up quickly and his eyes followed her. His baffled look turned to fear as Lilian got to her feet. He tried to speak but could only utter staccatoed parts of words.

“Wha… you… you…” Lilian cursed. She would have taken a seasoned, grizzled fighter over a scared young man any day. Experience is calming, fear is unpredictable and violent. She breathed out a low breath and removed the camouflage effect from her skin and clothes. She was thankful not to have to keep it up any longer. Taking it away gave her body a boost of energy and she was able to focus completely on the task at hand.

“It’s okay,” she said, as calmly and gently as she could, “I’m not going to hurt you I just need to leave, you can tell your boss I overpowered you. No one needs to get hurt…” The young officer shifted in his large green coat, the sleeves of which extended a little too far beyond his wrists. His face had gone from fearful to furtive. Lilian noticed his eyes twitch towards the door. She moved slowly to the right so that they were at an impasse. He blocked her way to the window, she blocked his exit to the door. Lilian looked back at him, her vision, still slightly heightened by gloaming. She noticed him take in a breath and shift his chin upwards. He was about to shout.

“Don’t call out.” Lilian spoke again, more sternly this time. She needed to control the situation and wasn’t above making a few threats. She took a step closer to the man.

“You’re the one who stole our gold.” He said, his voice cracking with nerves. Lilian saw no sense in denying it.

“I am. But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is everyone staying safe and calm. You can rush downstairs and alert the rest if you like, I won’t stop you, but I do need to get out of that win…” The officer interrupted her.

“No. I’ll… I’ll stop you.” Lilian was getting frustrated. This wasn’t the time for pointless heroics. Her eyes fell on a glass paperweight on the desk, three swift moves and she could knock him out. He must have guessed her thoughts because he moved a shaking hand round to the back of his belt and reached for something hanging there.

Lilian watched with horror as his hand emerged clutching a large, glass cylinder. It was capped at the top and bottom with intricate silver and was about the size of a Lilian’s forearm. Her eyes widened in horror when she caught a glimpse of the dark, purple liquid sloshing around inside of it. The young officer was looking at it with trepidation.

“I’ll stop you…” he muttered to himself. Lilian was frozen in place. If he drank that… her thoughts were interrupted by the young officer moving his free hand up to the bottle. The atmosphere in the room suddenly got very close. Lilian took another step and put up her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture.

“Woah easy there… I don’t want you to hurt yourself. That’s very dangerous stuff.” He glanced up at her one last time, his eyes red and stinging with fearful tears. All he could do was repeat the mantra that had brought him to this point.

“I’ll stop you…” Quick as a flash he unscrewed the top of the canister.

“No wait!” Lilian shouted in a last ditch attempt to stop him. The blood rushed out of her head and she felt a bead of cold sweat run down her cheek as she watched the young officer bring the container of Nightshade to his lips, tip it up, and drink the entire amount.

Episode 41

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The first thing Lilian did the next day was to test her weight on her wounded leg. Lowering slowly over her bedside she prayed to the Padda Stone that it wouldn’t hinder her movement too much. Thankfully, Telson had only intended to send her a warning and the cut was nothing more than a deep scratch just below her right knee. She put her foot on the floor and when she felt no great pain she stood up carefully from her bed. Shifting her weight from side to side Lilian breathed a sigh of relief. She cleaned the cut with salt water and wrapped a bandage that she had boiled the night before around her leg. As she tied the knot her mind went back to the fight the night before. This wasn’t the first time she had replayed the event over in her mind, in fact, she’d thought of little else since the door closed behind Telson on his way out. Should she have shoved him, instead of kicked? No, shoving is too obvious, he would have dodged it easily. What about a sweep? Telson must use a cane for a reason, perhaps his legs were his weak spot? But no matter how many different moves she played out in her mind, Telson always came out on top. For a second she even found herself thanking him in her head for choosing to only give her a flesh wound, he was a skilled enough swordsmen to have caused a deeper cut if he had wanted or, gods forbid, he could have aimed a few inches higher and slashed the artery in her leg. Lilian shuddered at the thought.

Fritha looked up, blinked sleepily and then stretched her front legs out in front of her. Her coat cycled quickly through lime greens, patchy blues and ended on a deep golden yellow. The sun was only just rising over the horizon, its orange light creeping past chimney tops and in through the curtains like a cat returning home from its night time prowling. Lilian’s little room began to brighten as she stood up confidently and performed a few simple stretches, readying her body for the efforts of the day. As she breathed in deeply and felt the aches and kinks disappear she affirmed two things clearly in her mind. One was that today she was about to rob the most dangerous men and women in the city and two, she was definitely not going anywhere near the palace. This probably meant that she would have to move out of her little room as Telson would undoubtedly return here to look for her once she missed her appointment with the Empress.

One of the benefits of only recently arriving somewhere is that it does not take long to pack up all your worldly possessions. She had collected a few more things than when she had arrived so had to use an extra string bag, but within half an hour Lilian’s life was packed away and ready to be transported to Mr Twitchett’s basement. She penned a quick note to her landlady explaining that she had been called back home on emergency family matters. She thanked her and left her an extra month’s rent. If today went well, she wouldn’t be wanting for coin any time soon. Lilian felt a small pang of sadness as she shut the door behind her, locked it and slid the key under it. Fritha twisted her head in confusion.

“No home,” she explained, as if the animal could understand. Fritha’s tail began to wag, going out into Freedos was her favourite thing and Lilian decided to treat her to a walk around Jekyll Park before going to see Mr Attorcop.

The early morning air was fresh and smelled of baking bread. Fritha’s nose twitched skywards as they walked down Vulpes road and onto the main Freedos thoroughfares. They stopped at a bakery for some breakfast and Lilian reminded herself to enjoy the morning warmth and the fresh air, as fresh as city air could ever be. Winter was coming and from what she’d heard, the city was a grim place during the cold season. Any snow that fell would quickly turn to slush and the inns would be packed with heat seeking crowds. They turned a corner and saw the park gates up ahead. Fritha rushed forward and excitedly jumped up and down knowing that she would imminently be allowed to run around and chase squirrels, rats or any dogs that might be being walked. As soon as they walked through the gate and she felt grass under foot the giant beast bolted forwards like a loosed arrow. She headed straight for the pond, as Lilian knew she would. Her favourite thing was to drink from the cool, calm water and then look at the big fish. The surface was covered in brown leaves from the surrounding trees so she could only catch glimpses of swishing fishy tails and gaping round mouths. A breeze picked up and sent the leaves floating across the surface like a fleet of little boats. Lilian had come down the small slope to join her friend. Fritha’s tail picked up and wagged each time she caught a glimpse of something beneath the water. If Lilian hadn’t fed her that morning, she would probably be jumping in to grab one, her coat even shimmered into an approximation of the grassy bank she was standing on.

“That’s quite impressive.” A woman’s voice spoke beside her. The leaves breezed away to reveal her reflection on the water’s glassy surface. Lilian had sensed her approach and so had not bothered to turn around. If she’d wanted to harm her, she would not do it out in the open.

“Hello Bried.” Lilian tried to keep the tired sigh out of her tone. This was the last thing she wanted today. But then, she thought, Tazial Bried was probably an expert in being the last person anyone wanted to see.

“Hayseed…” she replied, her voice cool as the breeze that brushed the trees.

“What do you want?” Fritha had lost interest in the fish and, sensing no fear, decided to explore the possibility of finding a squirrel.

“So hostile… it’s okay. I come in peace.” Lilian had nothing to say to the woman who’s associate had nearly broken William’s back. “Actually, I’ve come with some advice.” Lilian tutted.

“Let me guess, it’s going to cost me.”

“No no, this comes free of charge. Call it an act of… charity.” The word hit Lilian’s ear strangely, as if Bried had never said it before or it just felt alien to hear her talk of goodness.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care,” Bried was quick to reply, “but here it is.” She paused for a second. Lilian looked up at her. Her face was deep in thought, her eyes staring at the pond with all its hidden depths. It seemed as though she was struggling to find the right words, perhaps she really was about to do something nice. “Don’t do... what you’re about to do.” Lilian waited for something else. Nothing came.

“How do you…”

“I told you Hayseed, knowledge is my job, and I’m the best in the business. I know what you’re planning and I’ve come to say… just… don’t. Ok?” Lilian was impressed.

“Is the great and dangerous Tazial Bried actually showing compassion to another human?” Bried snorted.

“Don’t get used to it. As I said, consider it an act of charity. And you can joke as much as you like but I’m being serious. Do not do what you’re planning to do today. There are other ways to get the palace off your back.” Lilian shook her head.

“Maybe if you have the time.” Both women turned their attention to a dragonfly that had hovered into view. It landed on a leaf and seemed to be busy cleaning or eating something. A small ripple followed by a flash of scales and plopping sound and the insect was gone. Grabbed and pulled under the water by a hungry dark mouth.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lilian looked back at the mysterious woman, who shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Ever since you came sniffing around my house asking questions about brooches things have been… interesting. You’re so… little and annoying. And you’ve got that silly animal and…” She trailed off not wanting to say anything that might sound like a compliment. Lilian felt oddly appreciated, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Wanting someone to hate you still counted as being wanted, no? Lilian smiled.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you. But it’s all planned. If you’re that worried, you’re welcome to help. But otherwise, I recommend you stay clear.” Now it was Bried’s turn to smile.

“If you ever drop your moral compass you might consider a career in crime. You’ve got the ego and with what you’re about to do, you’re halfway there.” Lilian scouled. She hated being compared to someone like Bried. The career criminal sighed. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t warn you. Good luck Hayseed.” Bried’s reflection disappeared from the surface of the pond. The last thing Lilian had seen was a glimpse of the black bird she had etched in ink at the top of her chest, only just visible through the open buttons of her cotton shirt. She turned and caught Bried’s attention before she was too far up the small slope.

“Bried?” Bried stopped, turned back and waited for the question, “Where did you get that done?” Lilian gestured to the bird and then to her own chest for clarity. Bried raised an eyebrow and smiled. Her shaven head and freckled face always looked so friendly when she smiled, but Lilian knew enough by now to know that this was just a mask that covered a dark heart.

“Only one place to get a decent tattoo, and that’s Zandt.” And with that, she walked away. A small idea had formed in the back of Lilian’s mind, but the sun was rising quickly and she had other, more dangerous matters to prepare for.

Cromwell Attorcop was not alone in his basement lodgings. Katrina Sturgeon, her red hair and glamorous gown shining like torches in the dim light, was with him. As Lilian shut the trapdoor behind her, she saw them look up from a clandestine conversation.

“Hello Lily love!” Katrina smiled broadly, Lilian returned the grin and began schlepping her bags down the rickety steps.

“What’s all this?” enquired Mr Attorcop. Lilian told them about her visit from Telson the night before and how her little room was probably not the best place for her to be staying at the moment.

“Well then you stay with me my dear.” Katrina offered quickly, too quickly for Lilian to protest. She looked at Mr Attorcop.

“That’s very generous Katrina but…” he started to say but she cut him off.

“I won’t hear another word about it. Come to the rare flower market tonight and we’ll set you up with a bed. Not for weeks and weeks you understand but it will do for now.” Lilian smiled. She felt very lucky to have such fine friends. Katrina shot her a quick wink and moved the conversation to other matters.

“Come and have a look at this.” She held up a small green bottle and beckoned Lilian over. Fritha padded round to Mr Attorcop’s bed that was set up in the far corner of the room and before he could say anything, she had hopped up onto the mattress and was making herself comfortable. Mr Attorcop muttered something about muddy paws under his breath but Lilian ignored him.

“What is it?”

“This is the closest I get to magic. Very rare, very dangerous. Just one drop and you’ll have a hole the size of your fist in any material it touches.” Mr Attorcop held up a piece of scrap metal they had presumably used to test the liquid. Just as Katrina had said, right there in the middle was a perfectly round hole. Mr Attorcop held it up to his face so that Lilian could see his eye through it.

“How long…” she asked,

“Two minutes. We timed it,” said Mr Attorcop. Lilian took the piece off him and ran her fingers over the edges of the hole. It was perfectly smooth, as if it had been filed down for hours. Suddenly, Lilian understood the significance.

“This is how we get into the Weardian coffers…” Katrina smiled.

“Not just a pretty face.” Lilian wasn’t sure if she was talking about her or herself. Katrina’s smile suddenly dropped and she became serious.

“This stuff takes a long time to make and it’s very expensive.”

“We understand Katrina, you will be more than fairly compensated for your contribution.” Katrina’s smile returned. “Just like old times.” Mr Attorcop laughed,

“Should I get Zadoch in here?”

“No I don’t think that’s necessary.” They both laughed at the inside joke. The laughter then slowly faded as the seriousness of the situation dawned on them all. There was a pause and then Mr Attorcop said the words that Lilian had been half dreading to hear.

“Well then, I suppose we should plan this robbery.”

Four hours later the plan was in place and the sun was beginning to set. Everyone had eaten a few pieces of bread with some cheese and dried meats followed by an apple. They were going to need all the energy they could muster. For the final hour they sat in silence. Katrina bade them good luck and goodbye and left them to sit. Lilian had her eyes closed and her mind empty. She let the sounds and smells of the present moment wash over her, without fear, without judgement. Mr Attorcop did the same, emptying his mind of worry and gathering the energy he would need. It would have been easier if the moon had been out, but a little extra time in silent meditation could compensate for that. They were down to their last drops of essence so he could not rely on the mysterious liquid as much as he would have liked. This would be like the missions in his youth, before he’d mastered the finding and bottling of the lunar liquid. Lilian had never used essence but she made sure to sit close to Fritha, she would be relying on her powers of concealment heavily in the upcoming hours.

Eighth bell chimed in the distance, the guard shift would change in an hour, another useful tip from Kissandra. Mr Attorcop opened his eyes. Lilian’s were already wide and alert. Her hair seemed to flicker between its normal red and the dull green of the blanket beside her. And her eyes, they were darker somehow. The whites were becoming dark grey and pupils were, what, yellow perhaps? It was hard to tell from this distance. Whatever the colours, she no longer looked like the little redheaded girl he’d met on the mountain. She was a Nocta, she was gloaming, she was peace and she was power. He knew her hearing would be heightened, so he only needed to whisper.

“You’re ready.”

Fritha gave them a concerned look from the bottom of the stairs as they shut the trapdoor behind them. Lilian was worried about whether Mr Attorcop would be spotted on the way to the Weardian headquarters, but she knew that the plan would not work without both of them present at once. She touched the strands of Fritha’s fur she had put in her pocket and double checked that Kissandra’s knife was still firmly tied to her back and that the handle was in easy reach over her shoulder. She kept checking these things all the way down the street as well as occasionally tapping on the pocket that contained Katrina’s melting potion. Fur, blade, potion, fur blade potion. Her hands went from one to the other again and again, as if not making sure they were there meant that they would suddenly disappear as most valuable things had a habit of doing on the busy streets of Freedos. At one point she saw Mr Attorcop touch his sleeve and knew that he was doing the same with the last bottle of lunar essence. It was more useful in his hands than hers, but she knew that he would only be able to use it in an emergency. Suddenly, she stuck her arm out in front of him. The sound of footsteps and laughter was coming from round a corner. They hugged the wall and waited for the small crowd to go past. It would not be the last group they would encounter on their way to Laga quarter. Most were just as easily avoided but one or two took a little while longer to get around, a smoking landlord outside his public house, a woman hanging washing on a line both needed riskier approaches. Thankfully, no one seemed to recognise Mr Attorcop by his description on the posters or notice that Lilian looked a little strange. Lilian found herself praying for nightfall more than once along the journey. After just under an hour, they were in Laga quarter and the Weardian garrison building loomed low in the distance.

Kissandra had described the building accurately. From this distance, a little way down the main boulevard, it could have easily been another bank or government office. The only thing distinguishing this building from those around it, were the two Weardian officers in green coats stationed outside the large double doors. They had timed their arrival well, as just as they came into view, two other officers emerged from the doors and greeted the guards. This was only one of two times in the day that there would be four Weardian guards here. Lilian eyed them carefully. They were all very tall and wore the distinctive long green coats and iron buckled, dark blue uniforms. They smiled and joked as they greeted their colleagues. They all had short hair and big black boots.

Lilian and Mr Attorcop said nothing as they approached. Dusk was settling over the wide road. The sandstone buildings on either side, recently orange from the sunset, were now turning blue grey. As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, its light faded and Lilian faded with it. By the time they reached the front of the Weardian building, she was gone. Melted away from sight like sugar in tea. Mr Attorcop heard her footsteps break away from his. He glanced at the four Weardian officers and readied himself. He had been conserving his energy all the way over from when he’d gathered it in the basement. The silence had helped. He wished he could have waited just a couple more hours until the moon was high in the sky, but it was now or never.

It had been a long time since Cromwell Attorcop had practiced gloaming without the use of lunar essence. A part of him had been worried he might not be able to achieve anything, but old habits die hard and as he felt the surge of energy rising in his chest from his stomach, he knew he hadn’t quite lost the gift. He had never managed to turn invisible without essence, but that did not matter. In fact, right now he needed to achieve the exact opposite. Mr Attorcop’s role in the robbery was that of decoy so he conjured up the brightest, loudest and most violent effects he could think of. Out from the depths of his concentration, up through his chest, down his arms and into his fidgeting fingers. The men had noticed his approach now, one might have even been calling out to him, asking him his name and business. Mr Attorcop couldn’t hear him over the thumping of blood and puissance in his ears. He was so used to the quick and immediate power granted to him by lunar essence, he’d forgotten the benefits of building up a lot of power over a long time.

The Weardian were reaching for their swords now. Mr Attorcop glanced at the belts of the two senior officers. They could be distinguished from their subordinates by the small stripes on their chests and, more importantly, by the large ring of keys on their belts. They were all approaching him now, swords drawn, their points leveled at his chest. One of the younger officers crossed in front of his superior, making to flank Mr Attorcop. In the brief second it took for him to pass in front, the ring of keys had been lifted. Mr Attorcop permitted himself a small smile, Lilian had succeeded in her first task, now it was up to him.

“I said, get on your knees and put your hands behind your back.” The officer’s face was red with anger. He’d recognised Mr Attorcop from across the street and was wishing in his heart that this old man would give him an excuse to use his sword.

“No,” said Mr Attorcop calmly, “No I don’t think I will.”

With that he brought his arms up and out in front of him, his palms down and fingers spread wide. His dark cloak, which he had been focusing a lot of his thoughts and energy on during his preparation, flew up and out with the movement. The material had shifted and changed in the past hour, although it still looked and felt like high quality, woven cotton, it was also now imbued with Mr Attorcop’s own brand of gloaming. It was a living, moving darkness that extended out in front of him like octopus tendrils. One arm of the cloak wrapped itself around an officer’s neck, forcing him to drop his sword and claw at the cloth for air. Another whipped out to the left and attached itself to the flanking officer’s ankle. Mr Attorcop jerked his left hand up and back, causing the man to lose his footing and be momentarily yanked forward. The remaining officer’s eyes widened in shock and horror. But these were trained soldiers, familiar with all manner of fighting styles. Their shock only lasted a few seconds then and before Mr Attorcop could react, they were baring their swords down on him. The one on Mr Attorcop’s right side had revenge on his mind and murder in his eyes. He drew his weapon back with intent to kill and had Lilian not been behind him to pull on his belt, he may have just landed a deadly strike. Thankfully, Lilian’s role was not limited to lifting keys and so the man was pulled back and down, landing unceremoniously on his backside with a thud. His face contorted in pain and Mr Attorcop realised that he must have bitten his tongue on impact. With him down for a second though, it left the one remaining attacker. Mr Attorcop waited until the last second before the sword came slashing down to fall into the folds of his cloak. Mr Attorcop allowed the magically imbued material to envelope him, move him down and round and bring him back up in the officer’s blind spot. He managed to get a kick in before having to turn back to face the Weardian who had been struggling with the cloak at his throat. He’d managed to pry the material away and was now moving in closer to try to punch or grapple Mr Attorcop.

Just a little longer. He thought as he dodged and batted away the oncoming hits. These men had the advantage in numbers, but Cromwell Attorcop had experience and gloaming on his side. He ducked under a left hook and at the same time yanked the last Weardian, the one who had the cloak around his ankle, back down to the floor. Now there were three of them on him. The black material came up like a shield and wrapped around an incoming punch, then it flicked out like a whip, narrowly missing an eye but causing a bright red line to appear across a cheek.

“Just grab him you useless fools.” The largest Weardian, who Mr Attorcop guessed was the most senior ranked, barked orders at his men, but they were just for show. The captain knew that his men were trying their best, because he was trying just as hard. Cromwell Attorcop fell and rose around them like liquid shadow. His cloak was attacking and defending all at once and any attempt the men made to try and ‘grab him’ was met with arms wrapped around empty air. There were muffled screams as the dark material pulled back heads and the sound of scraping boots as their owners were whisked backwards and off their feet.

After about three minutes of this Mr Attorcop decided that his ruse had been successful and that the fight had gone on long enough. He gently decreased his attacks and allowed two of the officers to get closer. Not too close of course. He braced himself for a punch to the chest that he could have easily blocked, but time was ticking and the plan had to move on to its second phase. Mr Attorcop made a show of stumbling back, allowing the captain to rush forward and put him in an arm lock. Mr Attorcop had successfully disarmed all of them by now so he didn’t fear any lethal retribution. The captain twisted his arm behind his back a little more forcefully than he would have liked, but this was to be expected. Mr Attorcop had humiliated four highly trained officers, they would need to let off some aggression.

“It’s definitely him,” one of them spat, “I seen his face before, and that…” he gestured towards Attorcop’s cloak and then all around him as if replicating its strange movements, “that was definitely sorcery.” The captain leant forward, bringing his mouth right beside Mr Attorcop’s ear.

“Not content with blowing us up, you came to finish the job didn’t ya? Sorcerer scum.” Suddenly, Mr Attorcop was moving, frog-marched forwards towards the main door. He could hear the keys jangling on the captain’s belt and thanked the gods everything was so far, going to plan. He could live with a few bruises and a sprained elbow. He was already feeling the effects of the gloaming as he grew more tired with every step. Another advantage of lunar essence is that it doesn’t force the user to burn their own energy supply. He would sleep well tonight, he thought.

The officers moved him down corridors packed with gawking guards and curious officials. Despite it being early evening, the building was still packed with people. The four officers from outside paraded Mr Attorcop around like a prize fish, stopping to tell anyone who looked important that it was them who finally brought in the crazed and dangerous sorcerer. There would be commendations, ceremonies and tall mugs of ale no doubt. Mr Attorcop didn’t care. Before turning the corner that lead to the dungeon steps he managed to glance back. All eyes were on him, just as they had planned. No one would see the shimmering shape of a small girl slipping past a couple of guards, they might not have seen it even if they had been on the lookout, such was Lilian’s skill with Fritha’s gift. But Cromwell Attorcop knew how to spot her and the last thing he saw before the damp wall of the dungeon staircase obstructed his view was a blurred shape staying low and sneaking up the main staircase. Mr Attorcop smiled. They were in.

Episode 40

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

“I don’t know much about him. My… friend said she’s only met him a handful of times. He was there on the balcony when I met the Empress though, and I’m fairly certain he was the one who delivered my invitation for the ball. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we cannot afford to underestimate him.” Lilian studied the faces of her audience. Mr Attorcop looked deep in thought, his mind cast back into a past he thought long gone. Kissandra, the blade for hire who was here on Mr Attorcop’s invitation, looked more confused than pensive. She shook her head.

“The name is not familiar. But I agree with you, anyone capable of embedding themselves so highly within the Empress’ court cannot be trusted, especially if they’re not of noble birth. And seeing as I don’t recognise the name…” She trailed off, letting her experience speak for itself. Lilian looked over at her friend and mentor, his face was a map of past pains and newly opened scars.

“I know the name.” he spoke softly, as if Telson himself were within earshot, “but I have never met the man. You’re both correct of course, he seems to be the ‘mastermind’ behind this Guiding Hand business so to speak. A man who puts his faith in symbols and secrecy does so because he has no confidence in himself, his family or his friends. No doubt he has convinced himself that those who follow the Guiding Hand are doing some great service to the world, but they’re just the same…” Mr Attorcop’s tone took on a dark, rasping quality. These were old grudges and Lilian and Kissandra both sensed the shadows of his past creeping into the basement like unwelcome guests. His gaze fixed itself into the middle distance, not really looking at anything but seeing a million images all at once.

“Follow me, they say, trust the eye, the fist, the sword, the hand. This book, passage or poem will bring you peace. But beware they say, there will come those who doubt us and they are the enemy now. Trust none but those who wear the symbol. I’ve met these men. And while this one might be better connected than most, they’re all the same. Cult leader, holyman, wise whisperer, truth speaker I’ve met them all. They want all the trappings of power but none of the responsibility of fairness and equality. The Empress is just the same and though she’ll spin some sob story she will undoubtedly tip her head willingly as he pours poison in her ear.” He turned his sharp and focused eyes to Lilian and froze her with a chilling look. “I’m getting a better idea of who he is every day and judging by last night’s events and everything that has happened my theory is as follows. They have something on me, that much is certain. Some old grudge or fear perhaps. That is why Kissandra was sent to Benlunar, to make sure I did not return to put a spanner in their works. But not only did I return, I came back with you and your fearsome four-legged friend. That changed things. Now they seek to separate us. Divide and conquer. They’ve forced me into hiding and soon you’ll have soldiers at your door asking you ever so politely to escort them to the palace so that the Empress can have her prize.” Out of nowhere Mr Attorcop moved at lightning quick speed, hitting out and striking the surface of the table to his right. The speed and sound made Lilian and Kissandra jump. “Well I won’t let them. As the moon is my witness I shall not roll over. They have done nothing but stir my ire and now I’m forced to retaliate. So. Are you with me, ladies? I remind you that I’m not like this man Telson, I do not threaten or force people to fight with or for me, but if my fight is the fight of the just, then I ask that you consider your parts.” Lilian did not need much convincing, she had been fighting this fight since she arrived in the city, she nodded emphatically.

“I’m in.” she spoke in a low and confident voice, remembering her new friend Genevive’s face and the way her voice cracked when she spoke of her situation. They looked to Kissandra, she was still leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed.

“I will go as far as my interests take me, but my allegiance is to my order first and foremost, not you.” Mr Attorcop shrugged.

“Good enough for me.” He looked as though he was about to get to work right there and then, jumping into a quick walk and heading for a cupboard in the corner. Kissandra interrupted his trajectory.

“It’s not just your fight Cromwell.” Mr Attorcop spun on his heel to look back at her. “To take on Telson is to take on the Empress, the seat of power in Freedos and indeed half of Alicium. I don’t know if you’ve visited Doma recently but when discontent starts to brew, Empress Sylvia has a habit of crushing it quickly and with extreme prejudice. And that’s many weeks march deep into the country, imagine how she will react when she senses revolution on her doorstep. Because that is what this is, hold no doubts in your hearts.” Kissandra turned her piercing green gaze to Lilian. “To take down the Weardian, oust Telson from his place of power and usurp the Empress? That’s revolution. Which means that even if you, if we, do succeed, there will be a power vacuum, the city will plunge into chaos, people… many people will get hurt. I know you’ve both considered this, I just want everyone to be clear of their role in the inevitable suffering that is to come about.” Kissandra did not break eye contact with Lilian the entire time she spoke. Lilian did not flinch. She pictured the faces of the starving children she had seen resort to pickpocketing and stealing when she had arrived in the city. She remembered what it felt like to be that desperate, that hungry and all the while knowing that nobles feasted until they felt sick. She thought about the fear she felt in her stomach every time she saw the flash of a dark green weardian coat, or the glint of a palace guard’s pike. People shouldn’t have to live like that, she thought, and so Lilian Lausanne didn’t flinch.

“You’re right to bring up the end of it.” Mr Attorcop settled a little, “I had considered it, but in truth, only briefly. We will need the people’s support, of course and I have a few ideas as to how to go about getting it. But when the dust has settled and the system needs new leaders…” He trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air. Kissandra looked over at him. A small smile appeared on his face, “Well, if whatever replaces the Empress and her system is better than what we have now then we leave it alone.”

“And if it’s worse?” asked Kissandra.

“Then we crush that too.”

A heavy silence followed Mr Attorcop’s proclamation. Lilian clenched her fist. The time for talking was drawing to an end. Kissandra nodded sagely and then let out a quick, sharp laugh.

“The day I left you alive on the side of that mountain, I was ashamed. I had failed my mission and I retreated honourably. I see now that my shame was a necessary price to pay. You’re both quite mad but if anything is going to succeed in taking down The Empress and her precious system then I think it would look very much like madness.” She paused for a second, remembering that fate-filled day. “The Weardian headquarters is in Laga Quarter. It’s unmarked but everyone knows which it is. Look for the only building on King’s Road with bars on the top windows. It’s made of the same brown limestone but don’t be fooled, the bricks were cut twice as thick and reinforced with iron rods. There’s no sense in attacking head on, you’d need an army. But there might be a way to disband The Weardian without killing them all, or even hurting them.” Kissandra stopped again, baiting her audience with a well timed silence.

“And that is?” Mr Attorcop, usually so patient, took the bait. Kissandra shot Lilian a cheeky wink.

“At the end of the day, they’re doing a job. They might enjoy beating people up for not carrying the correct market permits, but that’s by the by. Thankfully, the state is a little strapped for cash at this present moment. All of the Weardian wages are paid out at the end of the month from a coffer in the upper floors of that building. Now I happen to know that it hasn’t been filled in several weeks and isn’t set to be filled for several more.” Kissandra let her new co-conspirators fill in the blanks. Mr Attorcop looked at Lilian, his eyebrows raised in delighted surprise.

“So if we take the money…” Lillian had a go at completing the plan, “pretty soon they’ll be wondering how they’re going to get paid for beating up farmers.”

“And beggars,” said Mr Attorcop, “but yes. If that information is all correct…”

“Um, excuse me.” Kissandra interrupted, “My information is always correct.”

“It wasn’t about me.”

“Well no but that was differe… look it doesn’t matter, the information is good. But you’d need to act quickly.” Lilian nodded.

“The longer we wait the more the palace might be able to convince them to wait for payment,” she walked over to Mr Attorcop’s desk and picked up a spider shaped paperweight. A hundred scenarios were flashing through her head and she needed something to look at so that she could think through them clearly. She breathed in deeply and let out a long sigh. Setting the spider down she turned back to Kissandra and Mr Attorcop. “It’s risky. If we succeed we have to rely on the fact that they won’t work for free. I’ve only met a few Weardian but they all seem particularly… zealous. Are you sure they wouldn’t work just out of, I dunno, a sense of duty?” Kissandra smiled, shut her eyes and shook her head.

“No way. They are the Empress’s hammer. Hammers don’t get up and start hitting things of their own accord. I give it a week without pay and the whole place will fall like a house of cards.” She spoke with such confidence that Lilian almost believed her. She made a mental note to never play Kissandra at four ladies. Lilian looked over at Mr Attorcop. He had his hands together like he was praying, but Lilian knew enough about him to know that he never asked the gods for anything, Cromwell Attorcop made his own fate. He looked over at Lilian, bringing the tips of his fingers to his chin and looking unsure.

“It’s a risk,” he said. Lilian shrugged.

“Any plan involving taking down the Weardian is going to be risky. It’s true that we don’t want to hurt anyone if we can help it and going for the coffers would certainly avoid physical harm. I say…” Lilian paused and quickly went over every other possible approach in her head, just to be sure. “I say we go for it.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“Agreed. Although before we do anything, I would like to know one thing.” He glanced over at Kissandra. “How do you know about the coffers?” Kissandra replied slowly, picking her words carefully.

“I heard about it from a reliable source. There were plans to rob The Weardian, there was even a date set. But the job was cancelled at the last minute, too risky.” That didn’t fill Lilian with confidence but she reminded herself that not everyone shared her and Mr Attorcop’s particular set of skills. One risky job for a group of petty thieves might be a walk in the park for two people trained in Gloaming.

Kissandra clapped her hands and rubbed them together.

“Very well, I wish you both the best of luck. I shall return here in a few days for my cut of the profits.” She began to walk towards the wooden steps to leave the basement when a thought struck her and she turned back. “Unless of course you were to give me back my blade, in which case I could call it even here and now.” A knot formed in Lilian’s stomach. She was grateful to have left the snake handle knife back in her room with Fritha. She looked to Mr Attorcop for guidance. His eyes were narrowed.

“That blade was won fairly.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Kissandra replied quickly, holding her hands up in front of her, “I just feel like my information has been valuable and I’d be happy to have that value met by the return of my poison blade.” There was a silence. Kissandra shrugged. “Think on it.” She turned back to leave again but something she had said had caught Lilian’s attention.

“What do you mean, poison blade?” Kissandra answered as she walked, taking the steps two at a time.

“The handle is hollow, for a vile of poison. There’s a hidden button that crushes the glass and drips the liquid onto the knife. It’s a rare item, difficult to reproduce and quite old. Keep it for now, but once you have the money, I’d like to discuss its return to me.” And with that, Kissandra whipped her hood over her head, smiled and disappeared through the trap door in the ceiling. Lilian thought about what she said, she had assumed the compartment had just been meant to hide messages or secret codes. The snake motif made more sense now. She looked over to Mr Attorcop whose face had turned white as a sheet.

“Lilian…” he said, “When was the last time you checked on the essence in that knife?”

By the time Lilian reached her little attic room she was out of breath. She hadn’t quite sprinted all the way back but she had certainly maintained a quickened pace. Her legs were heavy from the stairs up to her room and she could feel patches of sweat forming under her arms. Fritha was delighted to see her, jumping off the bed and bounding over with all the day’s pent up energy. Lilian gave her a quick hug and some food before checking on the blade. She’d hidden it under her little desk using a combination of string and a few nails. She knew that Fritha would probably be enough to scare off any chancing thief, but she wasn’t about to take any risks with something so precious. Her hand closed around the handle and Lilian breathed a small sigh of relief. She brought the blade and its sheath out from under the desk and carefully clicked the false snake scale until the handle popped open. No liquid seeped out, that was a good sign. Slowly, she parted the two sections and found the vial of lunar essence. It was intact and Lilian could finally relax. The light of the liquid illuminated her palm. Knowing that it was their very last bottle made the already meagre amount seem even less. Lilian thought about giving it back to Mr Attorcop, it’s not like she was able to do anything with it. She recalled the other night in the Stave Church and remembered how she had broken down at the mere memory of home. She remembered Mr Attorcop’s words, closed her eyes and allowed herself to think of Kilde. She felt the cold glass in her hand and approached the memories with love, rather than fear. She recalled his face, his laugh and his manner. He’d had a way of looking at the world that she had found confusing sometimes. He saw the good in everyone, he worked hard to understand why people did the things they did and if things didn’t go his way, he still managed to see the sunny side. A familiar lump formed in her throat but instead of shying away from it, Lilian followed the feeling. She took a deep breath and tried to find the happiness in her memories. It took a while, but it was there. The day’s they’d spent playing by the river, the pranks they pulled in class, the games they made up on rainy evenings. The lump slowly began to disappear and a smile took its place. Kilde was gone. But he was still teaching her, still affecting the way she saw the world. Lilian thanked him for that and opened her eyes. Fritha was sitting directly opposite her. Her eyes wide and curious. Her coat shimmered into a beautiful emerald green and she let out a soothing purr, like someone was running a padded hammer along musical wooden bars. Lilian smiled. The lack of essence was worth this animal’s recovery. She would have used the whole bottle if she’d had to and would not have regretted it one jot. Lilian thought about what Kilde would have said if he’d known what she was about to get into. Robbing the Weardian, dismantling the seat of power. It all seemed a very long way from the little day-to-day troubles they’d faced in Benlunar. But she had also come a long way. And she felt ready.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Not the polite knock of a friend worried about intruding, but a forceful knuckle that wrapped hard two times. Lilian didn’t recognise it and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Fritha seemed just as alarmed but when Lilian showed her the hand signal to disappear she obediently faded into the carpet.

“Who is it?” she asked. She didn’t need to be loud, the door was made of cheap, thin wood and her room was not big. There was a small pause and a man’s voice replied.

“A message from the palace.” Something about the sharp tone seemed vaguely familiar.

“Just a second.” She tried to buy herself some time. Slipping the vial of lunar essence quickly up her sleeve (her current smock lacked pockets) she went back over to the desk and was about to hide Kissandra’s blade again but a worry stayed her hand. Something about that voice. Two more knocks came from the door, not sharp wraps this time but loud thuds.

“Coming!” she tried to make it seem like she had been interrupted in the middle of dressing or washing. She glanced around in panic, not sure where to put the knife. Muttering a quick curse under her breath, she hid the weapon behind her back and opened the door.

Standing on the other side was an older man of average height. He wore a tall hat and a splendid purple coat. Pinned to the breast pocket, plane as day for all the world to see, was a brooch in the shape of a hand. Its polished silver reflected what low light there was on Lilian’s landing. In his left hand he held a cane, the top of which was adorned with a beautiful copper coloured scorpion stinger. Lilian looked up and into the eyes of Nicholas Telson. He was smiling. An oddly charming smile, one practised over many years and used to ingratiate himself into any company no doubt. She tried to not act too surprised, or even as though she recognised him. Last time they’d met, he’d been wearing a mask so it stood to reason that Lilian shouldn’t know him. Thankfully she had been partly prepared, having recognised his voice through the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lausanne.”

“Hello.” Lilian replied quickly, trying to ignore the knot of fear forming in her stomach. His eyes quickly glanced past her, scanning the room beyond in a flash before falling back on her.

“Pardon the intrusion. I was informed of your visit to the palace court this morning and have been sent to enquire as to why you did not fulfill your obligation to the Empress.” Lilian scrambled for an excuse, this sudden appearance had caught her off guard.

“I was told I had a week…”

“You had more pressing appointments at court than a meeting with her majesty?”

“No I just…”

“Apparently your, pet, was not with you.” Lilian winced at the way he said the word ‘pet’, like it left a sour taste in his mouth. “May I enquire as to why not?” Lilian felt her patience begin to run out.

“You’re welcome to enquire about whatever you like, whether or not you’ll get answers is a different matter.” There was a pause. Lilian regretted being cheeky, but if there was one thing she despised it was being bullied. Telson narrowed his eyes. Lilian thought he was about to launch into an angry tirade like her old school mistress, Madame Streng, would do every time one of her class would talk back to her. Instead, his expression softened into another second smile, even more disarming than the first, and he softened his approach.

“My apologies Miss Lausanne, I am under a certain amount of pressure from her majesty to see that your appointment is met and I admit I let it get to me for a moment.” He offered a small bow and Lilian felt her temper cool. She did not allow her guard to slip however. Kissandra’s foot long blade was getting heavy in her hidden hand. “May I come in?” Lilian could not think of a reason to refuse him quick enough and Telson was already moving past the threshold and removing his hat. She kept her eyes fixed on him and saw that his gaze shot from corner to corner, looking for something, probably Fritha, she thought. Lilian shut the door and leant her weight on it. She knew that if she kept her hand behind her back then Telson would know she was hiding something. So she put the knife between her and the door and kept it there with the weight of her body. She then crossed her arms in front of her and made herself look like she was waiting impatiently for this unwelcome guest to leave. Telson turned to her with a third smile, a settled smile shared with close friends.

“I don’t wish to get off on the wrong foot. My name is Telson. I work with Empress Sylvia. It is my duty to make sure the Empress’s wishes are fulfilled.” Lilian said nothing. One of Mr Attorcop’s greatest lessons had been when and where to rely on silence. People often reveal more when they are unprompted. Asking a question will only get you an answer to that question, remaining silent reveals all manner of things. His voice echoed once again in her mind. And so she said nothing. “I appreciate that meeting the Empress at the ball might have been an intimidating experience. We’re not so detached at court that we are unaware of her reputation. I will say this then.” He walked about the small floor space, his cane tapping the wood a second before each step, and glanced at the various furniture and paraphernalia that Lilian had collected over her weeks in the city. His tone was calm and casual on the surface, but Lilian could sense the threats lurking in its depths. “Empress Sylvia is nothing if not fair. Her reputation for cruelty is spread by those who have either broken the law or intend to damage her good name.” He paused and looked back at Lilian. She got the impression she was supposed to say something, she kept her response short.

“I haven’t broken any laws.” He held her stare and searched her eyes. Lilian knew that looking away would undermine the lie. She, of course, had broken many laws, but she could not let him know that. His face was losing some of its friendliness as it searched hers for the truth. But with a quick breath and a glance up at the ceiling it was back.

“No. No of course not. I’m not suggesting you have. I’m merely saying that seeing as the Empress’s word is law, to deny a direct request, particularly after having agreed to it, might be seen as… treason.” His eyes flashed on the final word. Lilian was not afraid.

“I still have a few days to fulfill The Empress request.” She tried her best not to speak through gritted teeth. Telson narrowed his eyes,

“So you keep saying.” Lilian had had enough of this man.

“Are you saying that the Empress was wrong to give me a week? Maybe I should tell her when I see her that her close associates don’t fully trust her judgement.” Telson’s face remained still, save for the smallest twitch in the corner of his mouth. The twitch became a fourth smile, sly and obsequious.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. But nor would I be fulfilling my duties if I simply let everyone who came in contact with her majesty run around the city ignoring her direct requests.” Lilian breathed in deeply, readying herself to let this pompous bureaucrat have it.

“Well if your duties involve running around the city checking up on children then I doubt very much Empress Sylvia…” At that moment, she stopped speaking. Telson, only two steps away from her, moved with unnatural speed. He whipped around and brought the tip of his cane flying towards Lilian’s temple. If she hadn’t been on high alert she would have undoubtedly been struck and knocked out, but thankfully she managed to drop her head down and avoid the strike. The move meant that the knife came loose behind her. Lilian leant into the momentum of the dodge to twist round and grab its handle before it hit the floor. She continued to spin up and round, bringing the knife, still in its sheath up to defend a second strike. A deft backhanded swing from Telson. The wooden cane and sheath met inches away from Lilian’s left eye with a sharp crack. Both combatants brought their free hands up to other ends of their weapons to reinforce the stalemate. Telson pushed forward, baring his full weight down on little Lilian lausanne.

“Enough games.” Telson spat the words. He was so close, Lilian could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “For some ridiculous reason, The Empress is fixated on you and that filthy animal you keep in your company. If it were up to me I would run it through and feed it to the foxes.” Lilian readied her right hand.

“You’ll have to find her first.” As quick as she had been attacked she unsheathed the knife and thrust the blade up and forward. Telson was ready however and did the same thing. His cane had been hiding a thin sword inside it and a quick twist and pull revealed the weapon. This time, it was the blades that met and instead of a crack they produced a high pitched ringing. Telson twisted the first strike away and came back with two more swift slashes. Lilian was able to parry them both and even used the now empty sheath to catch the second before it cut her upper arm. She kept her eyes trained on his, trying to anticipate his strikes by seeing where he was looking. Their blades clashed three more times and Lilian had to remind herself to keep breathing or else she would tire quickly. Occasionally she would glance down at his feet, trying desperately to find a weakness in his stance, but he was too clever or experienced to reveal any such gap. Lilian was reminded of training with Mr Attorcop, but whereas her mentor acted like an immovable rock, this man felt more like fighting fluid metal. He moved with grace and even held his weapon with a soft grip, that is until a millisecond before an attack or parry where the metal would harden at the point of contact into solid steel. If fighting Mr Attorcop felt like hitting a boulder, fighting Telson was like fighting a waterfall. One that could freeze in a second, and rain weight and power down in the next instant. As Lilian ducked and parried in frantic panic, she knew she was outmatched. She wanted to call out to Fritha for help, but she could not risk her being revealed. Not only was she fighting a skilled swordsman but Lilian was quickly figuring out that Kissandra’s blade was not intended for trading blows. It was an assassin’s knife, lightweight and thin. It parried Telson’s numerous swipes well enough but had far too little mass to give her reposts much clout. Lilian was still too young to be able to rely on her strength alone so the tools she used needed to compensate for her weaknesses. Unfortunately, Kissandra’s snake handled blade did no such thing.

Telson’s sword on the other hand was perfectly suited to his body and fighting style. It could be hidden behind his back in a step and then whip out in a flash. Blink and you wouldn’t just miss it, you’d be dead. Lilian’s eyelids were beginning to stick with sweat. She twisted out of an attempted disarm and countered with a kick. Telson was ready for it however and dodged out of the way by bringing his feet together and swinging his waist out to the right. The move was couple with a downward slash and Lilian saw a streak of red on her leg. She took a quick breath in and seconds later felt the pain from the cut. She blocked Telson’s follow up punch but was too shocked to think ahead more than just a few moves. Telson whipped his blade up and knocked Kissandra’s knife out of her hand. It flipped three times in the air before embedding itself in her desk with a dull thud. Lilian’s eyes were drawn to the sound but as soon as her attention came back to Telson she realised that the tip of his sword was at her throat. She could feel its needle sharp point scraping her skin every time she breathed in. Telson did not seem out of breath at all. His voice was calm but all of his smiles had disappeared.

“Tomorrow afternoon, fifth bell, you are to be at the palace gates. You will bring your slobbering beast with you and The Empress will finally put this idiotic project out of her head. Do you understand me, Lilian Lausanne?” Lilian was loath to respond. She felt the tip of Telson’s sword press against her skin with a surgeon’s precision: enough pressure to be felt, but not so much as to draw blood.

“Do you understand?” Telson repeated the question through gritted teeth.

“Yes.” There was a short pause but once Telson was satisfied that she was telling the truth the sword whipped away with a whisper swish and was being slid back into the cane before Lilian felt comfortable enough to move again freely.

“Good. Then I shall see you both tomorrow. And please don’t think of running or being late, the next time I have to ask I will not be so polite” He placed a delicate hand on Lilian’s shoulder and moved her aside, clearing his path from the door. The whole visit, including the outbreak of violence, felt to Lilian like he found it to be just another laborious logistical task. It was as if Telson had been asked to clean a particularly tough stain. He walked past Lilian, opened the door and even had the cheek to tip his hat before replacing it on his head.

“Have a good evening Miss Lausanne.” Lilian could only hope that her glare conveyed enough of her hatred as the door shut and Nicholas Telson disappeared from sight. All that was left of him was the sweet smell of perfume and a trickle of blood on Lilian’s leg.