Aliyah

A fresh change of clothes and a mug of hot tea did wonders for the constitution. She cradled the proffered cup and took intermittent sips until she felt human again. Borrowed magic coursed through her veins, cushioning the adrenaline crash.

“Keep it,” Shasta had said, when she’d offered to return his magic. “Really,” he’d added when she’d opened her mouth to protest. “It’d be like taking a fish from a chimera.” There was a note of grim cheer to his voice.

She’d shrugged and hadn’t pressed the point. It had taken a while to fully replenish her blood and even now, she felt tired in the mental way: thoughts slowing to a crawl. Her scalp still ached from where she’d regrown the fistful of hair.

“Are you alright?” Kionah asked, and Aliyah realised she’d been staring off into space.

“Yes,” she said automatically.

Kionah pushed the pile of red fabric towards her. “Here,” she said. “I…sorry that we couldn’t find him.”

“It’s alright.” Aliyah took a sip of her tea and swallowed a lump of frustration with the mouthful. “You did warn me it wasn’t a good plan.”

“Well…” Kionah hesitated, then gave a wan, pained smile. “It was a reasonable attempt, given your circumstances.”

An attempt that had cost her all but ten of her crowns. Aliyah winced inwardly, wondering if they’d be kicked out of their loaned lodgings by dawn. Maybe not—Shasta was still here, chatting animatedly with Laurent by the fireplace. Luxon, too, had borrowed a needle and thread from Silas to patch up the bedraggled remains of her dress. Every now and again, she gave Mutt an absentminded pat as he nosed at her swishing tail.

“We’re quite safe here,” Kionah continued. “The Hive sent someone to place fresh wards.”

She blinked, eyelids heavy. “Oh. That’s…good.”

“You ah, might want to get some sleep?” Kionah said. “No offense meant, but you don’t seem all here. And Shasta filled me in on what happened on the ship, you know?”

Aliyah tipped back the last of her tea and frowned. “Oh. Right. I didn’t think there’d be so many. That was stupid, I know.”

“Go to sleep,” Kionah said more firmly, polite side-stepping at play. She took the empty cup from the table. “You look like you need it. Here, I’ll take this to the sink.”

“Thanks,” Aliyah said. She stood. After a moment’s hesitation, she scooped up the lengths of Healer weave and took them with her.

The curtains were shut, the room dark save for the faint stirrings of ceiling-ward. The smart thing to do would’ve been to lie down and let her body rest. She didn’t lie down. Instead, she unpinned the Healer badge from the fabric and turned it over in her hands, thinking.

What now?

The tracker-mark still sat cold and mocking on her arm; she couldn’t see it, but the knowledge alone was like a leaden weight stitched beneath her skin. She also itched to be rid of it, but…no. If she needed to track down the schismatists, if she wanted them to find her, she needed this link.

Kionah had given her a perfunctory summary of the Saiphenora encounter: potions being thrown amongst rows upon rows of impassive, uncaring greenery. Luxon had offered to send a missive to her Hive, though doubt laced her voice all the while. Whatever the Hive was busy with, Aliyah suspected they wouldn’t take interest in an abduction regardless—not in a city this large.

Worse things happened every day, she told herself, steeling her resolve. If this was her problem to solve, then she would do all she could…even if she wasn’t a Healer. She closed a fist over the badge, gripped it tight as the tips of the silver hand dug into her skin.

The memory of the ship-fight echoed in her head: darkness and rust, vessels flared open to the sound of snapping bone. Had she killed one of them, back there? A few of the men in the first wave—their heads had hit the ground very hard. The crack echoed in her thoughts. What bitter repayment was that, to hired hands whose jobs had been to capture and not kill? How many of them were maimed or dead because of her?

She could ask Shasta, she supposed. He had connections, and if there was any semblance of a forayer network, then the news would surely come back to him. She could ask, later. Would it make a difference? Did she even want to know? Part of her went numb when she considered it, hardened and uncaring.

You cannot save everyone.

Her actions down in the bowels of the ship had felt disturbingly easy. It was almost sickening, how simple it had felt in the face of feeling something owed. She’d expected shivering, or panic once the shock wore off—had it yet worn off? But no—here was a worse realisation: if she had to fight her way through the schismatists, then she would. If she had to injure people, then she would. She wouldn’t enjoy it. But if it was necessary—

She screwed her eyes shut and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose, the action not her own. It was a gesture mirrored, almost unconsciously. By the time she had noticed, it had formed part of her habits, along with the healing and all.

If she could do anything to repay the months of patient tutelage and those blasted thirty-seven crowns…she shoved the Healer badge into her pocket and flopped onto her back, staring at the runes drifting over the ceiling.

She wasn’t a real Healer—but she was an apprentice. Apprentices could learn.

Magic bubbled up in her fingertips. She traced the shapes of spells over her hands, murmured their names in her head like a festival chant: breaking and making and vasodilation. Twist and stretch and scour and excise.

The sound of head hitting floor echoed through her skull. Nausea bubbled up in her gut, and she tamped it down with magic. She could do it, she told herself. There were the beginnings of a better plan here. She had the capacity to hurt people if necessary. And now she had the resolve, too—after all, she was fairly sure she’d already done worse.

===

The curtains had been parted. Golden summer light spilled across the floor and up onto the mattress to touch at her pillow. It was brighter than she’d have thought. Outside, shoppers were already bustling down the street. Mid-morning already, she guessed as she stumbled upright. She glanced over to the other side of the room. The other bed looked slept in, but it seemed Kionah had long-awoken.

A cluster of miniature aches sparked through her muscles as she stretched, wincing. Tiny tears and strains from all that running; she hurried their healing along until the twinges of sensation dissolved. She heard voices from the kitchen as she crept down the hall, avid conversation in progress—conversation that cut off as she emerged.

Two pairs of eyes glanced her way—Shasta and Kionah.

“Um,” she said self-consciously. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Kionah said, gesturing to the spare seat at her side. “Shasta brought breakfast. Do join.”

She sat, and Kionah pushed a plateful of buns in front of her, each studded with different dried fruits. Shasta helped himself to what looked like a second serving from the basket in the center of the table.

“Thank you,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Kionah shrugged. “We were discussing…current arrangements.”

Shasta mumbled something through a mouthful of fruit bun. He swallowed hastily and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “I’ve got guests tonight. You want lodgings from Crow Ear, you pay for it.”

“Oh, come on now.” Kionah’s voice grew a coaxing edge. “I’m having a bit of trouble with coin, alright? Need a little time to get back on my feet.”

“You looking for work? I’ve got a couple of courier jobs.”

Kionah hesitated, her eyes flicking over to Aliyah. “Perhaps not.”

“No? Then you’re out of luck. I can’t be coming across all soft now. You forget we got rivals, sweetheart? Watchmen on our tails?” He drummed his fingers across the tabletop. “We’re busy—you’d have to help out. It wouldn’t be the best look, otherwise.”

“Busy?” Kionah echoed doubtfully. “I thought your job was to wander around and make trouble at leisure. Where’s Evdokia?”

“Mother left for the isles.”

Kionah’s jaw dropped. “What? Really? How are you still functioning?”

Shasta scoffed. “A good coffee in the morning does wonders…and Caius hovering over my shoulder, too.” His voice sobered. “She didn’t really leave the whole business in my hands, much as it looks that way. Still got eyes and ears that aren’t my own. Wish I could, but—sorry, Kionah.”

Kionah scowled. “Silas wants us out by the end of the today.”

“Can’t blame him.” Shasta shrugged, rising to his feet. “You’ve got a veritable platter of choices, Kionah. See you around. You know where to find me. Bring your friend, too.” He glanced at Aliyah on his way out.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably at the shrewd knowledge lurking behind those eyes, the opportunism there. Kionah, too, had shifted fractionally at that parting remark. It would do her good to remember there were things they wanted of her.

Perhaps they were kind enough to ask rather than take. But hadn’t Kionah said they should ‘work together’? How, exactly? The words turned in her head, curdling like spoiled milk. So they’d been nice enough to help her out earlier, given some coin to ease the way. That didn’t mean they didn’t have other hopes and plans in the works, schemes to use her healing to benefit their criminal standing.

Zahir’s words drifted to the forefront of her mind: they will drain you dry if you let them.

She finished her breakfast and rose to her feet.

“Could we go back to Luxon’s?” she asked. “I was promised a fix, wasn’t I?” She gestured with her tracker-marked arm.

“I’m not sure she’d have it ready yet.”

Aliyah paused. “…So you have other things to do? I guess I could go find one of those Crowfire guides you were talking about.”

Kionah’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes did flick up to meet Aliyah’s. “Hm? Oh, no—I’m not busy. Did you want to go now?”

“Sure,” Aliyah said. “Now would be good. Right now.”

===

Fructuous Charms Emporium was in much the same condition she’d seen it a couple of days ago, all cheery strings of lights and dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. The only real difference was the other faery leaning on the counter, speaking to Luxon.

Her back was to them, and her wings glimmered with flecks of hidden colours that revealed themselves with each slight shift in angle. The colours looked oddly familiar, and so did her tunic—Aliyah recognised her as that one Lieutenant who’d spoken to them after the skirmish with the false Magician.

“…And the ridiculous problems arising from that,” she was saying. “Honestly, Luxon, the Hive—”

“Qilin, there are…” Luxon cleared her throat pointedly, shooting them a look. “Customers.”

Lieutenant Qilin glanced over her shoulder, then back to Luxon. “Well, before I go, I should tell you…” She made a sound like a wince. “The real message is: you don’t really have a choice. Sorry—orders from above.”

Luxon stiffened visibly. “What? But the Hive isn’t—surely not.”

“Full severance was mentioned,” Qilin said apologetically, backing away. “What with, you know, a certain individual rendered incapable—”

“It will be difficult,” Luxon said, her spines drooping. “But…very well. I can try. Simply tell them not to expect wonders.”

“Of course,” Qilin said dryly. “I’ll drop by with the samples after sunset.”

The Lieutenant strode past, barely glancing at them on her way out. Luxon cleared her throat before making a buzzing, distinctly self-conscious sound.

“Kionah!” she said. “Back so soon?”

“It isn’t me who wanted to come here,” Kionah said. She gave Aliyah a nudge with her elbow.

Aliyah’s skin prickled under Luxon’s gemstone-gaze. “Right,” she said. “Um, I know you’re probably not done with the potion of this thing—” She gestured with her forearm, where the tracker-mark lay. “—but I wanted to ask about something else, actually.”

Luxon sat up straighter. “Another brewing?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m going to be a little busy for the time being.”

“Not brewing,” Aliyah said. “I was going to ask you if you had any rooms to let, actually.” Beside her, she sensed Kionah turning her head sharply.

“What? Aliyah, I can’t afford—”

“Ah, no,” Luxon broke in. “That is to say, my quarters aren’t highly suitable for human habitation at the moment. And I will be very busy in the coming days.”

“Busy with…whatever favour it was that the Lieutenant asked of you?” Aliyah hedged.

“That,” Luxon said with a frown, “is Hive business.”

“Right. Okay.” She paused, ignoring Kionah’s sideways glance. “Are you absolutely sure you can’t oblige us a day or two? We’re having a lot of trouble finding lodgings.”

“Aren’t you staying with that cantankerous bookbinder fellow?” Luxon asked.

“He’s kicking us out,” Kionah broke in. “On account of not wanting more collateral damage from the schismatists.”

“Oh,” Luxon said. “And you believe me to be more adept at subduing schismatists, is that it?” She gave a wry smile. “I am sorry to say that is not the case.”

“But you aren’t afraid of them, are you? And you…don’t like them enough that it’d please you to not let them get their way?” She took a deep breath. “Look, I understand I’d be imposing. But I only ask because I’m stuck with this tracker-mark until you can get rid of it. If I try to stay at an inn and get attacked before then…” She let the words trail off deliberately, plunging the room into discomforting silence.

This was a trick that Rana had used a couple of times when they were young. Her heart squeezed at the thought now, of Rana’s help and influence, a kindly hand reaching through time and distance both…she bolstered her resolve and struggled to keep her face impassive. Perhaps the mask slipped a bit, but that could work in her favour; if she could get Luxon to take on tacit responsibility and feel sorry for her, it might buy her some time.

And if Kionah didn’t like it, this was her chance to leave.

“That sounds devastatingly unfortunate,” Luxon said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I am sorry for your predicament, I truly am. But I will be very busy in the coming days. I suppose I could sell you some protection charms…” She trailed off, but it didn’t sound deliberate. It sounded like nervousness, or perhaps even guilt.

“You’ll be busy?” Aliyah asked. “So would you say you’d appreciate a pair of helping hands around here?”

Luxon hesitated visibly. “Well, I…I’m not sure. My laboratory…the glassware I use is very delicate, you understand.”

“I can…cook?” Aliyah said, wracking her head for answers. “And clean. And sew. I just need lodgings in the meantime.”

“You can sew?” Luxon said, her spines perking up. “There are a few items that need darning. As for my busy-ness…I suppose I could accommodate two, if they earned their keep.” She tilted her spines in what was probably a meaningful manner. “Kionah, dear…?”

Kionah sighed. “Yes, yes. I can run errands in exchange. Carting stuff from the ingredient markets, I’m guessing?”

Chitinous fingers clicked as Luxon clasped her hands together. “Something like that.”

“Great,” Kionah said, glancing at Aliyah. “So I’ll act the pack mule and go fetch our stuff, shall I?”

Aliyah blinked. “Um. I can come help, if you—”

Kionah blew out a breath. “Better not. You’re the one with the tracker troubles, eh? I’m sure you’re dying to chat with Luxon about it.”

“Yes, but if you wanted, I could—”

“Be back soon,” Kionah said abruptly, and strolled out of the shop, leaving silence in her wake.

Had that been that anger, or annoyance lurking under her tone? Aliyah couldn’t quite tell. But she’d gotten what they both wanted, hadn’t she? Even if it meant sidling further away from Shasta and his crew, and even if the plan hadn’t involved Kionah as a confidant beforehand. Was this ordinary annoyance, or the reaction of a headstrong spymaster losing grip on her quarry?

Luxon cleared her throat and pushed off the counter, heading for the curtained doorway behind. “Come, I’ll show you the lodgings—keep in mind it’s a touch different to the bowers of you humans.”

Aliyah followed, ducking into a dark corridor. The way ahead was lit only by a faint sliver of luminescence at Luxon’s wingtips. Was that just her imagination, or did the walls look like weathered stone?

Not her imagination, she decided as they passed thickening patches of bioluminescent lichens. Had Luxon simply done something cosmetic to the inside of her shop building, or was this a twist of dimensionality? She was about to ask, when Luxon spoke.

“Don’t be alarmed; this might look strange to you, but it’s perfectly safe. I simply borrowed a few lessons from the Hive Archives.”

“Archives?” she asked uneasily. That sounded awfully similar to Library.

“It’s a Hive thing,” Luxon answered evasively. “Over there,” she said, gesturing to a darkened offshoot. “That is my laboratory. Please do not enter without supervision. There are delicate projects being simmered—including your own tincture. Oh, and not that way either; that one’s my wardrobe.”

A whole room for a wardrobe? Kionah had mentioned that Luxon had a taste for human luxuries.

They reached a door at the end of the corridor, a charming, round-topped oaken thing straight out of an illustrated storybook. Glowing spots of lichen wreathed the rock around it, and it creaked as Luxon swung it open.

“See,” Luxon said, sounding apologetic. “It does need a lot of remodelling.”

Aliyah blinked as she peered through. “You sleep in here?” she asked.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing: the room would have loomed with its vastness were it not for the clusters of foliage and spiraling branches filling the space. Pale roots snaked across the ceiling, sunk into crumbling plaster. The ground was coated in a thick carpet of moss and patches of that dark, tar-like substance she’d seen in the schismatist outpost and dripping from Luxon’s own ceilings. Strangely enough, the walls were wallpapered in pale floral print. The room was room-shaped too, square cornered and straight-angled. Aliyah might not have given it a second glance were it not for its size and for the presence of the enormous, upside-down tree.

“Sometimes,” Luxon said. “Though I have a corner in my laboratory that I use more often than not. My apologies; it’s run a little wild without tending.”

“Run wild,” Aliyah said, eyeing the tree. “Right. I guess you’d know if it was going to fall down…?” It was bigger than most ironwoods she’d seen, perhaps only dwarfed by the one that’d been cut down in the castle’s south quarter some four or five years ago.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Luxon hurried to assure her. “I don’t know if I’ll have time to prune anything, though, and I would so hate to get rid of it entirely—do you suppose you would be alright if I found a couple of hammocks for you two?”

“Sure,” Aliyah said. It looked secure enough, at least. No windows for rogue schismatists to burst through. She cleared her throat. “Luxon, I have a question.”

“About your tracker-mark?” Luxon said. “I am already trying my utmost. The brew will be ready when it is ready. You’re free to earn your keep indoors for the time being.”

She shook her head. “I’d like to keep the mark for a while longer, actually. I need to find the schimatists. Is there a way for you to…find a way back to whoever cast it?”

Luxon’s wings gave an anxious-looking flutter. “Oh, no. You think too highly of me.”

“But is it possible?” she pressed. It sounded possible. But then again, she hadn’t learned much of pure magic theory under Zahir’s tutelage.

Luxon shook her head, and her heart sank. “Theoretically, perhaps. But I am not sure there is any mage alive who could accomplish such a thing. Tracker-marks take a lot to cast. My Hive’s Archivist always said the only thing to do was to break them, and he had the Archive-powers behind him. The schismatist who did this would have had to imbibe an obscene amount of syrup. Ugh, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Aliyah sighed. “Right. Another thing, then: Kionah told me you managed to stop Saiphenora from flying off?”

“Of course. I can certainly sell you such a potion, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Sure. But you aimed well, from the sounds of it. Better than me.”

Luxon narrowed her glinting eyes. “Ah, I see. Is that your plan? I can do my best to apprehend anyone that attacks us, the same as I would if I were alone. But I cannot and will not initiate an attack on your behalf, even if they are schismatists.”

Aliyah nodded and exulted in secretive relief. If one of the faeries could be stopped from flying off, then that was all she needed—so long as she were fast enough. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Luxon said abruptly, clearing her throat. “In the meantime—I have a selection of aprons that need repair. You are good with needles, correct?”

“Yes,” Aliyah answered.

===

The aprons were, as Luxon said, flame-resistant, not flame-proof. Aliyah had barely finished patching the last scorch-mark when Kionah returned, appearing at the doorway with bags of luggage in hand.

“Woah,” she said, glancing around tree-room with evident interest. “Faery magic, huh? Here’s your stuff.” She dropped one of the bags onto the ground and grinned, all traces of sourness gone—or well-disguised. “Luxon left some hammocks at the front, told me to string them up—hah. What’s that you’re doing?”

“Fixing her aprons.”

“I’m surprised she can’t afford Behemoth-skin.” Kionah released her own bag and put her hands on her hips, glancing the tree up and down with an odd look in her eye. “Hmm. She didn’t say we had to keep the hammocks on the lower branches. Do you think it’d hurt much if I fell from, say, there?” She pointed.

“Yes,” Aliyah said.

“Hm,” she said, stretching her arms. “Shame.” Then, with a series of fluid movements, she heaved herself onto a branch and started climbing.

Aliyah put her needle down. “Hey, wait—”

Kionah peered over her shoulder, already several feet up. “Relax, I’m just going to take a look. You coming?”

“No.” The last time she’d risked climbing a tree had been five years ago, and it had been at Rana’s cajoling insistence.

“Suit yourself.” Kionah kept scaling upwards, becoming half-hidden by leaves and branches. For an instant, Aliyah glimpsed Rana’s silhouette, her easy scramble skywards—and then it was gone, and Kionah looked like herself again.

The mossy ground looked soft, but even so, she worried her healing wouldn’t be much help if Kionah fell and landed wrong—headfirst, for instance. Was she only taking this risk because Aliyah was here, assuming all would be fine if worst came to worst? The idea itched at her much like the tracker-mark had. Not that she wouldn’t want to help, of course, but there came the sense of being a convenient tool, of being used.

Then again, Kionah was a criminal. Maybe she was used to climbing trees to break into people’s houses, or something.

Kionah reached the top and touched a hand to the roots in the ceiling, letting out a whoop. To Aliyah’s relief, she started clambering down at once.

“Surely you don’t mean to hang your hammock so high?” she asked as Kionah touched on safe ground. “I can’t fix every injury, you know.”

“I know,” Kionah said with an easy roll of her shoulders. There was a gleam in her eye that hadn’t been there before—an adrenaline-seeker? Aliyah hadn’t taken her for the type, but anything could hide behind that bland, courtly smile. “But I’ve done this before. And I’m out of shape, besides. Spymasters weren’t allowed to climb trees back in the kingdom.”

To her relief, Kionah didn’t end up hanging her hammock high at all; both provided sleeping-slings were strung on the lower boughs, hanging a mere foot off the ground. Kionah had swiftly unpacked her in search of the blanket portion of her bedroll, leaving clothing and toiletries strewn all over the moss. When Aliyah went to unpack her own bag, she froze.

There, stowed carefully atop everything else, were the three segments of Healer weave. Her stomach lurched as she wondered where Zahir was now. Was he locked in some hideous vault? Cut open like Kionah had been? Faeries weren’t necessarily like Magicians, she told herself. She took the fragments out and unfolded them. The fabric felt well-woven in her hands, thick and taut—how much strength had it taken to rip it apart? Even the frayed edge held strong, barely unraveling further when she touched it.

She would return these pieces to him, she vowed. But until then…

Hefting the spill of flame-resistant fabric into her arms, she ventured out of the room and out to the shopfront. Luxon bustled around in a harried manner, straightening the displays. Her tail swished out, flipping the door-sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ in passing.

Aliyah cleared her throat.

“Oh,” Luxon said, drawing to a stop. She cradled a parcel in one arm, sheathed in faery-tar. “You’re finished?”

She nodded. “Here,” she said, holding out the stack of aprons. “Do you mind if I keep the needle? And, um. Do you have any more?”

===

Aliyah could feel the weight of a gaze upon her as she sat in the hammock, sewing the pieces together. She kept silent; if Kionah wanted to ask, then she could ask. But Kionah merely turned away to arrange her own hammock as she saw fit. She had provided some sort of bread roll for dinner—bought or stolen, it hardly mattered right now.

It was only later, laying in the dark, that Kionah spoke.

“You’re intent on tangling with these faeries, are you?”

Aliyah blinked her eyes open, saw nothing but the faint shapes of branches nestled around them. “If I have to.”

Kionah sighed. “And you didn’t think to ask me before running over here?” There came the sound of shifting in the dark, then another sigh. “I am trying to help you, Aliyah. We—I thought you knew that. And my point is, you don’t have to.”

Well. She didn’t have to use her magic for Kionah’s ends, either. Or Shasta’s, by the sound of things.

“Luxon wouldn’t have been my first pick,” Kionah continued quietly. “If you refrained from discussing the matter with me because you thought I’d discourage you from this plan of yours…well, you’d be right to think I don’t like it. But I’m not going to lock you in a cupboard to keep you from killing yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Are you going to help me?” Aliyah asked. The branches were lines of black-on-black, still as stone.

Kionah snorted softly. “I’ll do what I can. You know we’ll have to earn our keeps, right? Sounds like a pretty bargain, I know, but I’ve dealt with Luxon; she’ll have us running all day long.”

“Yes,” Aliyah said. She hesitated. “But if she’s going to have us walking around outside and I’ve still got this thing on my arm, then I’m sure one of them will try to find me. The golden one seemed to hate the kingdom enough for that.” She reached a hand into her pocket and closed it around the silver badge there. It might take a day or two before they struck, but Zahir could hang on an extra day or two, couldn’t he? He was a Healer. He had to.

“Ah,” Kionah said. She paused delicately. “I see. And you plan is to…fight them? Copy their tactic, take a hostage, and demand your mentor back that way? The fighting didn’t turn out too well last time, if I recall correctly. Or the time before that.”

The plan, she thought a little detachedly, was to fight, yes. Hostage and ransom—she wasn’t sure about that. She’d been thinking darker thoughts, bordering on Magicianhood: capture and violence and demands, and more violence if the answers didn’t come quickly enough. She’d told herself the idea was borne of desperation, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

Still, perhaps it wouldn’t have to come to that. There was also the possibility of agreeing to go with Saiphenora if she showed up again, and bringing some sort of spell with her to break the both of them out—could her remaining ten crowns buy something of use? She wasn’t sure, but that idea sounded far more…merciful.

“You don’t have to help me,” Aliyah said carefully. “But do you happen to still have those unlocking charms from Shasta?”

Kionah blew out a soft, whistling breath. Then came the sound of rustling in the dark. “Fine—here, take it.”

Something sailed through the air towards her; she almost fumbled the catch. The string of little wooden discs clattered together as her hands closed around them.

“I was serious, you know,” Kionah continued. “About you getting killed. Schismatists are just annoying most of the time, but the worse ones don’t fuck around when humans stick their noses where they don’t belong. You’re probably going to get hurt worse than you have already. Yeah, yeah, I know you think you can just heal it and keep going, but that doesn’t make it…safe.”

“Maybe,” she answered. A hollow feeling opened up in her stomach. Maybe. She’d been shot, yes, but she’d already been closer to death in other ways. It had been terrifying. Maybe it was easy to say this now, and maybe she’d regret it later—moments before the blade came falling down—but she had to try. She ran her thumb over the flat of one of the unlocking charms and took meagre comfort in the intricate whorls of runesign carved over the surface.

Thoroughly uprooted, torn from the clutches of the kingdom castle—what else was she supposed to do now, but this?  Well—she could run. That was an option. Fill her ears with sand, leverage Kionah’s interest in her abilities to flee to safer havens.

She could do that.

…But unless I’ve been very wrong about you, I don’t think you will.

“It seems I can’t dissuade you,” Kionah said flatly, wrenching her from her thoughts. “So be it, then.”

“I have to try. I know I’m not a real Healer—but I have to try, don’t I? No one else is going to.” Perhaps the question was a sliver of weakness, a fragment of doubt. She gritted her teeth together and kept herself from repeating that last part, the awful truth: no one else is going to.

For several heartbeats, there was silence.

“I see,” Kionah said. There came another light huff of breath. “Well, others have died for less noble goals. I’m here if you change your mind.”

“Okay,” she answered. “Goodnight.”

There was no further reply. Her eyelids drooped. Before long, the branches bled into blackness, and the blackness into nothing at all.