Cozca woke up with a headache, blurred vision, and someone slapping her in the face going “Oy hey wake up” over and over again. She groaned, and opened her eyes a bit, and whoever it was continued to slap her. She made out their outline, in blurry triplicate as her eyes adjusted to the low light of her surroundings. Whoever it was, she found them disturbing to her asphyxia-induced slumber, and punched them in the face.

“Ow, you fuck!” Cozca’s brain registered the voice as belonging to Kris, who was filed under ‘People I might have to Kill’ in her mind. “What was that for?”

Cozca closed her eyes again, her world going reddish-dark. Her head was pounding and her jaw hurt. “For slapping me. And stealing from me. Pick one.”

“Deserve it for that last one I guess, but the slapping is because I need you awake right now.” Her voice sounded like her nose was bleeding. Good. Cozca opened her eyes again, and sat up, slowing when her vision went starry. The sound of iron chains being dragged drew her notice to her left wrist. They were shackled together, Cozca’s left arm to the elf’s right. That was new.

“Shit, I think you may have broken it.” The elf said, holding her nose and glaring over her palm at the Sutherland.

“Good.”

“Not good, you oaf, you may have permanently crooked it.”

“It was already crooked.” Cozca said, inspecting the chain closer before looking around. They were on a floor of grayish dirt, with stone walls besides an iron bar wall with a cage door set in it, like a fence. It made her claustrophobic and cold. She had little pebbles in her back from lying on the floor without her bolero or cloak. Gods, she missed her cloak.

“Roguishly crooked, you colossal Southlander mess of a woman. Roguishly. There is a wide gulf between a roguishly crooked nose and an obviously crooked nose.” The elf complained.

“Take your hand away from it? Remember, I’m a healer.” Cozca asked. Kris begrudgingly complied, and the chains tinkled as Cozca took both sides of the nose in her hand. She set it, as hard and as painfully as she could, and there was a bit of satisfaction to be found in the way the elf recoiled and swore.

“Fuck! Thank you, but fuck.”

“That’s twice I’ve helped you, now.”

“This doesn’t count, you’re the one who broke it in the first place.

“Well, as long as we’re redressing grievances…” Cozca began.

Kris sighed. “I told you, I sold them. They’re all gone.”

“You stole them. Steal them back.” Cozca said. Sutherland morality was simple, it was sufficient enough to keep the peace back home.

“Let’s try getting out of this place first before we get to that, okay, Southlander?”

“My name is Cozca.”

“I am terrible with names, sorry. Can we try to get out of this place before we regard your precious baubles, bitch?”

Cozca punched her again in the nose. It was lighter this time, lighter than the elf deserved, perhaps, but she didn’t want to break it again. Roguishly crooked was a good look on her, and Cozca was nothing if not respectful towards others’ looks. She looked around herself again. Low ceiling, probably lower than she was tall. A window in the wall opposite of the cage door, a small grated thing. How anyone was supposed to live in here, let alone get out, was a mystery to her.

“Where are we, by the way?”

“A jail, I believe.” The elf delicately touched her nose, making sure it hadn’t broken again. “High Elves built it to house prisoners during their occupation of the Midden.”

“Jail…” Cozca tested the word on her tongue. It was a foreign concept to her. Sutherlands had no need for jails, as they had few concrete laws to enforce in the plateaus she called home. Her father had been a prisoner during the war, though. She knew he had scars from the torture. Her anxiety rose as she recalled his description of the dungeons beneath the Northman capital of Lirûdan. Cold, dark, filled with screams, pain. Jails were a place where men broke each other, the darkest seed of humanity sown and harvested in the industrial way that only men of the north could. And, naturally, they were haunted as fuck. “We need to get out of here.” Cozca said, trying to control her breathing, and failing, “Did we get put here for fighting?”

“In Oste? No, they abandoned this dungeon tower long ago after they sacked the garrison. They don’t have prisons in Oste, most disputes are settled…personally. Someone knocked me out, brought us here. I really hope I haven’t let humans get the better of me again…”

“I have to get out.” Cozca said, trying to stand. Kris put a hand on her shoulder that was more controlling than comforting.

“We do. But we’ll need to help each other to do so. Coz, can I trust you?” Kris made heavy eye contact that made Cozca want to punch her a third time.

“Are you serious right now? Can you trust me? I saved your life, fixed your nose, and you robbed me and left me with your damn breakfast bill, and you are asking me if you can trust me?

“Yes.”

Cozca balked. She really wanted to hit the elf again. “Yes, you can trust me. Can I trust you?”

“You know you can’t, not really. And I’m sorry for that, but we need to work together to get out of here. The people who get mad enough at me to track me down and kidnap me aren’t the sort of people you want to wait around for.”

“Then swear right now that you’ll get my stuff back. All of it.”

“I can’t.” The elf said, chewing on her lip nervously, “Some of it might be gone by now, untraceable. Things that go missing in Oste are rarely found, which includes us right now.”

“Swear that you’ll get the cloak and the rings back. Especially the rings.”

“What, the toy?”

“Swear! On your honor!” Cozca raised her fist again.

“Fine! I swear on my fucking honor that I’ll get back your cloak. As for the toy, I still have it. Couldn’t sell it because it wasn’t Sutherland. My contact wasn’t interested.”

Cozca lit up. “You have it? Give it here, now!” She held out her hand.

“Not on me, buffoon. It’s at the townhouse. We need to get out of here first.”

“Fine. I also need you to steal something else for me. Can you do that, thief?”

“It’s what I’m best at.” Kris nodded. Cozca grunted in satisfaction.

“Then I swear on my own honor to get you out of this dungeon, Kris, and to protect you until both of us have fulfilled our ends of the bargain. After that, may we never meet again.”

“Agreed.” The elf said carefully, standing up. The chain between them went taut until Cozca also stood up, bowing her head slightly. The cell was not built for Sutherland height, even a runty one. “One more thing. My name isn’t Kris. It’s Calamity.”

Cozca snorted. “Really? Calamity?”

“I thought it was cute.”

“It sure is…something.”

“Fine. My real name is Edrelle, but for obvious reasons, I don’t use it for…work. Just follow my lead when it comes to talking.”

“Work? So you’re a career thief, then? Figures.” Cozca said. There weren't really professional thieves where she had come from, besides the raiders and bandits that patrolled the wasteland, and the banished Sutherlands who had become pirates on the seas.”

“And an artist at it.”

“Yet you were caught and mauled by a viper-dog.” Cozca pointed out.

“All artists make mistakes.” Edrelle, whilom Calamity, whilom Kris huffed. “Besides, I acted up what would have been at most a mild fever and a limp into getting six and a half thousand pec worth of merchandise.”

“You mean you were never in any danger?” Cozca’s hand was trembling with the urge to punch the elf.

“Of course I was! It hurt a lot. But not of dying, no. I would have been able to do fine by ripping my sleeves into bandages and letting my body do its thing. But you came along, got to be a hero, and saved me a blouse! Plus, the six and a half thousand pec.

“Which you made by robbing me. After you drugged me. And then left me with the bill for fifty pec, which I found out, is a lot of money. Also wow, six thousand?”

Edrelle nodded. “And a half”

“That’s a ton of money.”

“The cloak alone was five thousand.”

“No wonder I got so many offers for it in Bel…” Cozca mused.

“Out of curiosity, how did you get out of the bill? I felt bad for leaving you with it, if that helps.”

It didn’t, but Cozca replied nonetheless. “The innkeeper had me do some plowing. Fed me some free pancakes too.”

“You plowed that gorgeous orc and got pancakes? Well done, Cozca, you dog.”

“Not that kind of plowing. I helped her plant some carrots too, and I taught her nephew the sword, a bit.” The Sutherland replied, cursing herself for blushing.

Edrelle raised an eyebrow. “The sword, eh? You’re interesting, Southlander. You not only know how to plow, but you know the sword, and how to fight an elf.”

“My father taught me the sword. And the elf-fighting bit.” She cleared her throat. “Alright, let’s focus on getting out of here.”

“Your father knew how to fight elves?”

“Yeah. He was an elf hunter, during the war. Let’s concentrate—”

“A Sutherland elf hunter? Perhaps I crossed blades with him at some point.” She mused.

“You wouldn’t have. You’d be dead.” Cozca said with no small measure of pride, before getting up to inspect the iron bars of the grate.

“Sutherland elf hunter…” Edrelle continued to muse, chewing her lip while her unshackled hand playing along the tip of one of her long ears. She let go suddenly, and they twitched back into position. “Do you hear that?”

Cozca listened, then frowned. “Hear what?”

“Worthless human hearing,” Edrelle hissed. “Someone’s entered the prison, two floors up. Our jailer. Let me do the talking, and I’ll let you do the—”

“Giant stuff. Got it.” They shared a look and nodded at each other. At least she was going to get to punch someone. Steps echoed down a spiral staircase. It was hard to tell with all the echoes, and between the claustrophobia and headache, Cozca wasn’t sure how many people it was. Edrelle seemed to notice this, because she mouthed the word ‘One’ to Cozca, before going back to chewing her lip. Light bruises were already blooming on either side of her nose. She looked back up at Cozca, and grinned as she licked the drying blood that poured from her nostrils and was dripping down her chin, staining her smile red. Cozca reminded herself that it was impolite to stare, and looked away, towards the hall. The steps echoed off of the stone halls of the prison. Out from the murky darkness appeared an elf.

“Fuck.” Edrelle whispered.

She was a bit shorter than Edrelle, but possessed only a slightly thicker build, which wasn’t saying much. She was more boyish where Edrelle was feminine, though, and her face was splashed with freckles. Her curly hair laid atop her head in a stylish undercut of dusky brown, the same toasted-seed color as her skin. She had strikingly green eyes, her pupils dilated noticeably—likely due to the darkness—and three silver little rings in each long ear. She wore a linen-weave blouse and leather pants, and had short dueling boots on that struck against the stone floor and echoed off of the stone floor with an ominous ‘clack-clack’ noise that made the backs of Cozca’s molars itch. She wore a sword over her back—it was a delicate, gilt-looking thing, the like of which she hadn’t seen in the Midden since she had arrived. All the weapons and tools in her homeland were utilitarian, brutal, and wrought from the black siderite harvested from the clay-iron deposits in the sides of the league-tall buttes her tribe lived atop, the Towers. This elf’s sword was silvery and delicate, and the curved grip looked like it was corded with living vine, with green little leaves circling the pommel and hilt. The grass-green eyes of the jailer appraised Cozca and Edrelle with a calculating gaze, and she felt like she was being inspected down to the pores. She quirked an eyebrow, which Cozca noticed was cut with a little scar, as she regarded the Sutherland scout. Edrelle seemed to relax a bit, which Cozca took as a good sign.

“Oh good. So my brother didn’t send you. Okay, who did I piss off this time?” Edrelle sighed. The other elf’s eyebrow merely rose to a slightly higher arch, before she cleared her throat and produced a slip of parchment from her pocket.

“Adramelekh, Edrelle.” She began. Her voice was raspy, like she was either not used to speaking aloud, or spoke often enough to have worn out her vocal cords a bit. 

“That’s me.” Edrelle said, stepping forward a bit and wiping her blood from her nose with her forearm. It was drying rather quickly, although that may have just been an elf thing, Cozca reasoned.

“I know it’s you,” The elf said, exhaling through her nose harshly, “Adramelekh, Edrelle. Step forward.”

“I’ve already stepped forward, just read me my crimes so I can escape already!” Edrelle taunted, sticking her tongue out at their jailer. Cozca didn’t think it was wise to antagonize the person who currently held them prisoner, but she was a bit curious herself of what else Edrelle had on her rap sheet.

“Have it your way.” The elf’s eyes flickered over to catch Cozca’s gaze for an instant, but once again turned down to the parchment. She cleared her throat once more. “You are hereby sought for extradition to Amselon for your following offences: Destruction of public property, theft of public property–”

“Hang on, how do I steal property if it’s public?” Edrelle interrupted.

“You sawed the head off of the sculpture in Kø’rûhn square and sold it to an art collector and Northman war criminal in Lirûdan.”

“Ohhhh right I remember. The war memorial thing. Carry on.” Edrelle said calmly. The green-eyed elf glared at her, then looked back down at her card.

“…drunken brawling, the attempted bribery and solicitation of a city housing official for sex to obtain—and I quote: ‘a place upwind of the whorehouse’, the public flogging of a Peacekeeper, evading justice, and disturbing the peace."

“You made that last one up! That’s a made-up crime!”

“Says it right here, on the card.” She showed the parchment to Edrelle, who folded her arms and huffed.

“Hang on, hang on. I thought Wood Elves didn’t punish each other? I thought being all cool and neighborly was your thing?” Cozca offered.

“This woman is not a Wood Elf. She is a High Elf assassin, from their abominable alchemical vats to kill without remorse. Edrelle Adramelekh is a creature abhorred by our people and should be similarly hated by any sensible being. Second chances are wasted on her.” Edrelle smiled like it was a compliment, and the wood elf turned her eyes to Cozca. “You are a Southlander, yes? Not only as our allies in the Uprising against this abomination and her kind, but as a people who love all things that grow from the bosom of nature, you must understand why she must be brought to justice. If it were up to me, I would have her dead.”

Cozca frowned. While it was true that Sutherlands had an appreciation for nature, it was more nuanced than the wood elf put it. She didn’t want to get into a theological debate, though, and settled on a more pressing question. “Then why are we locked in the same cell?”

“Your people are also…unpredictable. I did not expect you to ambush my quarry before I did. I wanted to make sure you didn’t attack me upon your regaining consciousness, but I wanted you present when I captured her. I needed a witness…and it never hurts to have a giant on your side.” She added a bit diffidently.

“I’m not on your side! I’m not on anyone’s side!” Cozca raised her hands, and Edrelle’s shackled hand raised limply with it. The apparent high-elven alchemical abomination began inspecting the nails on her free hand in affected boredom. “I just want my stuff back!”

“I’m sorry, Southlander, but there’s nothing I can do about your belongings. I know that Edrelle here is a prolific thief, but she must first answer for her crimes in Amselon. I can only offer my condolences for now.”

“What are you gonna do to her? Execution?” Cozca asked, and Edrelle laughed mirthlessly.

“Execution? Coz, the Wood Elves are pussies. Their form of punishment is a joke. Tell her, treefucker. What punishment do I face?” Edrelle said, smirking

“My name is Ahlo, and I am sword-bearer tertiat of the Rangers of Amselon. Name me such, and keep your dendrophilic epithets behind the barriers of your teeth, mix-elf hag.”

“Treefucker Tertiat, sorry. Didn’t know it came with a rank.”

Ahlo bared her teeth. Cozca had noticed that Elf canines were just a bit too sharp for comfort. She also noticed that the wood elf ranger had a gap in her front teeth that whistled when she growled, which defeated much of the menace she had intended.

“You will be put in counsel by Amselon authorities until you are considered adequately reformed. You will also be made to repair the sculpture you defaced, and create a work of equal artistic value as judged and assisted by your counselor, as well as be made to redress the relations with those you have aggrieved.” The ranger, apparently named Ahlo, said through grit teeth.

A silence fell over the trio, as if they were all waiting for a punchline that they knew in their hearts would never come.

“That’s it?” Cozca asked, desperate for the silence to end.

“That’s it.” Ahlo nodded. “See, this is why I wanted to execute her upon apprehension.”

“This is why I told you your society is a joke. But I’m glad the young and inexperienced rangers like you don’t make the rules, or I might have been in some actual danger of enjoying myself.” Edrelle gloated.

“You’re both about the same age, it’s best not to throw stones like that Edrelle.” Cozca said, immediately regretting it when Ahlo made a face like she had just stubbed her toe on a cactus.

“Same age?” The wood elf was aghast.

“Calm down, squirt. Humans can’t tell Elf ages.”

Ahlo shot Edrelle a burning look. “No wonder you spend all your time around them, hag. This woman is nearly twice my age, Southlander.”

“Hey hey! I’m only…” Edrelle counted under her breath. “…like, forty years your senior!”

“Maybe a decade ago. I’m seventy-two.”

“Shit.” Edrelle chewed her bottom lip. “Just hit my one-thirtieth this year.”

“Congratulations.” Ahlo mocked, clapping her hands together slowly. “You’re four years older than my own mother, hag.”

Cozca was slowly coming to terms with just how long elves lived. Edrelle was older than her great-grandmother, but barely looked thirty. She sighed. Elf biology continued to prove itself unfair.

“You’re making the Southlander depressed! Humans don’t handle existentialism well, don’t remind her of her extreme mortality! Can we just get on with your whole sentencing thing before I die of old age?” Edrelle was becoming impatient. Ahlo mumbled something about old age before producing a small ring of keys.       

“Stand back.” She commanded, waiting for the Sutherland and Elf to step away from the grated iron door. She unlocked it, and it swung outwards with a rusty creak.

“Can I get my irons removed, so I don’t have to be dragged along with this crook anymore?” Cozca asked. The wood elf nodded, and stepped into the cell, picking a different key on the ring.

“Edrelle, I have my eyes on you. One move, and the Southlander and I will take you apart.” She said, approaching slowly. Cozca felt the shuffle of Edrelle moving backwards as the chains between them lost slack, and offered her wrist. Ahlo kept her eyes on Edrelle as she slowly lowered her hands to unbind Cozca’s wrists. The key went in, and Cozca made her move. She head-butted the ranger (something that did no favors for her headache) and planted a knee into her liver, causing the elf to stumble to the ground. Cozca dashed for the open door of the cell, and felt from the chains between them that Edrelle was close behind. She caught the keys in her palm and slammed the cell shut with her foot as Ahlo climbed back to her feet. Edrelle snatched the keys from Cozca's hands and quickly locked the cell door, jumping back as soon as the silvery blade of the elf ranger came poking out. Edrelle spun the keys on her finger as she and Cozca backed away from their former jailer, whose sword clattered against the bars of the door.

“You idiot!” The woman shouted. “You two will pay for this! Southlander, how could you?”

“Edrelle offered to get my stuff back, you didn’t!” Cozca shouted, jumping back as Ahlo’s wrist found space between the bars and the tip of the thin little sword nearly found her heart.

“Human scum! How could you collaborate with that vat-born monster? Who killed your kin in the war! Who killed my comrades! That is who you throw in with, you myopic human cow!” The ranger spat.

“Oh, shove it up your ass! She wasn’t even alive during the war, you selfish twerp! You’re only here because you want to get a promotion for catching the uncatchable Edrelle! I would have escaped anyway, treefucker!”

Cozca had second thoughts about allying with the woman who had already stolen from her once, but Edrelle knew where the rings were, and could steal the rest of her stuff back as well. She felt the shackles pull, and looked up at Edrelle turning to leave. She followed, down the hall, up the stairs, and out of the tower that reminded her a bit of one of the plateaus from home, only much shorter. She was chased by the curses and shouts of the wood elf she had imprisoned inside it. Each shout made her spine prickle, and guilt slowly build in her stomach. She saw Oste in the distance. The land around the tower had been salted and paved, a circle of cobblestone and dirt lay around it. They were on a hill, nearly three leagues away from the city limits. Edrelle walked towards the city, and Cozca followed in silence.

“She makes it sound more interesting than it really was.” Edrelle finally said, after a few minutes of walking.

“What?”

“Born out of a vat. It’s not true, not really. The High Elves can’t make people with their alchemy. But they can…alter.”

“Oh…” Cozca said thoughtfully. She knew little of High Elf magick and alchemy, but knew they kept it a closely guarded secret, only allowing its use by the Northmen during the last few desperate years of the uprising. Her father had crossed blades with some of those Northmen, called Commandos, in the war. They had been exceptional, with the strength of orcs and reflexes of elves. “They were still just men, though. They died like men,” She remembered her father saying, before getting an upset sort of quiet like he had after any time they talked about the specifics of the war. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked after a moment.

“They have an Akled, as most folks know. The only Akled still operating on the continent, maybe even the world. That’s where a bulk of their alchemy is performed. That’s where they altered me.” Edrelle began.

“Akled?”

The elf looked back at Cozca with a quizzical expression on her face. It softened after a moment.

“Right, you’re a Southlander. I doubt your people have been near any of the major Leftbehinds in ages.”

Cozca shook her head. Leftbehind structures, the last signs of the Old Folk, were taboo to the Sutherlands. She had been a scout, with her father, and whenever they found them; the huge spires of stone jutting from the ground, the patches of blue forest, the strange black cromlechs radiating out from a single point in the earth, they had always marked the place as cursed and navigated the tribe around it. Nothing good came from meddling with Leftbehinds. Most of the routes charted by her ancestors steered clear of them entirely, and the discovery of one was vanishingly rare even in her six years of scouting. “I’ve seen a few. Mostly the smaller ones. The corpses of their gargoyles, or their big metal longboats, wrecked off of the coasts. The Leftbehind sites were usually already marked as cursed.”

“Well, an Akled is a Leftbehind site that isn’t cursed. They tend to be underground, as well. Or in my case, built into the side of Elder’s Peak. Nobody has any clue what magick the Old Folk used to accomplish that specific feat of engineering, but I digress—Akleds are where the Old Folk made their dweomers and alchemical experiments. There’s more of them out there than you’d think. Apparently, there’s even one in the Shrine of the Sleeping Beast, in hill giant territory, that holds the key to the Magick that wiped out the Old Folk themselves. Of course, nobody’s stupid enough to try and go after it, because Hill Giants.”

“Obviously.” Cozca affirmed. While Sutherlands were called giants, they really were just exceptionally tall humans. Hill Giants were truly titanic, and one of the few things Cozca was absolutely sure she couldn’t kill in single combat, even on her best day.

“The Northmen have made a few moves, since they’re obsessed with Old Folk technology, especially their weapons. But since the war, they haven’t had the balls or the manpower to try it. Of course, they would be thrilled to have access to any Akled. It’s why they allied with the High Elves in the first place. For access to Elder’s Peak.” Edrelle said. Her eyes were alight with excitement. Rather than shutting down the topic, opening up about the war had made her much more talkative. Cozca was just happy the awkward silence was over.

“Elder’s Peak is where they can alter someone, with the vats, right?”

“Exactly. I was two weeks old when they put me in a vat. They left me there for thirteen years. Apparently the longest experiment they had done, at the time. Not only did they enhance every elvish quality of mine, they combined traits of every elf race with me.”

“To make some sort of…super-elf?” Cozca asked.

“Ostensibly. The project was an utter failure. I’m just a very-above-average elf, not the ultimate obedient warrior they wanted. But hey, spending the first thirteen years of your life suspended in vat goop will give you an issue with authority. Spent forty years training on Elder’s Peak to be an assassin instead, killing people for my family. Clan Adramelekh. High-Elf politics...” Edrelle rolled her eyes.

“Wait, your family left you in a pool of…vat goop for thirteen years and still expected you to work for them?” Cozca furrowed her brows, and Edrelle averted her gaze and looked back to the road.

“You can tell why I left Elder’s Ridge after the war. Realized how pointless it all was. You know, High Elves settle disputes by having their vassals fight in mock wars? Lower-born snow elves die by scores over trivial disagreements, like who gets grandmother’s jewelry, or settling some petty slight. An assassin like me was more like a messenger for them, killing servants in the upper chains. It was all a disgusting game to them. I had to get out.”

“But you still fought for them in the war?” Cozca frowned. “Even when you knew it was wrong?”

Edrelle pressed her lips together, her eyes still fixed on the path back to Oste. Finally she answered. “There’s no wrong side in a war. Only the winning one. Unfortunately, I was on the losing one, first as an assassin, then as a spy.”

“The wrong side of the war was the one where the High Elves were fighting to control their domination of the Midden, and the Northmen aided them for a share in their empire. The right side is the one that freed this land, a cause righteous enough that even the orcs picked up arms to fight. That even my father and many other Sutherlands traveled northwards to fight with the allied Midden.”

“Righteousness has nothing to do with it. War itself is nothing but loss. People die, for some idea of, freedom or for some idea of power.” Edrelle sighed. “More people on both sides would be alive today if they didn’t put so much stock in ideas.”

“But the ones who are alive live in a free Midden. My father taught me to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.”

“I’m a traveler of life, Coz. I like the free Midden. Oste especially. Much more than Amselon or Lirûdan. But there will always be a safe haven for travelers like me, and there will always be some fascist trying to build an empire. I fought for the side I was born on, just like everyone else, and if the High Elves had won, and you were here…would you be so ready to say which side was right and which side was wrong? I’ve seen enough of life to know that every injustice can be justified, and any justice can be perverted. At the time…I guess I wasn’t a good enough person as I am today. Someone showed me the light...or maybe I saw enough of what we did, and that’s where I made my break. I’m much better off not picking sides now.”

“Says the professional thief.” Cozca said.

“Yeah yeah, I’m a thief! Still, better than an assassin, still better than a spy. And I’m gonna help you with getting your stuff back, so long as you help me with my project.”

            Cozca raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“As payment for stealing what you wanted me to steal.” Edrelle said. “I’ll call us even when I get your cloak and other crap back. But if you want me to steal something else, I need details. And I’ll expect your help on my own project. One hand washes the other—and besides, what else is a Southlander going to do for work in the Midden, besides be hired muscle?”

“Fine. Fair enough. If I’m working for you though, I need to find someone first. That’s why I came to the Midden.” Cozca said. She hadn’t told anyone about her plan, but it may help to have a thief and assassin on her side…for a while.

“Ah, I see! You didn’t have the look of someone who was banished from their tribe.” Edrelle’s face was suddenly all business. She spun the ring of keys on her finger before unlocking Cozca’s wrist iron. Cozca massaged her wrist as the elf unlocked her own shackle. “Alright, who are you searching for?”

“My mother.” Cozca said. She was a bit nervous now that the elf was no longer bound to her, but she supposed that Edrelle unlocking her first was a show of good faith.

“Your mother…” The elf mused. “You say your father was a Southlander elf hunter, right? Was he also a…woman during the war?”

“Uh,” The question caught Cozca off guard. “I don’t think so. How would I even know that?”

“Right, right! You were born after the war. Whew. Okay, it’s not me. Dodged an arrow on that one. I mean, half-elves are rare, but not impossible.” Edrelle looked genuinely relieved. This partnership already bode poorly.

“I already know who she is. She’s Colonel Eceba Lârs, of the Lirûdan army.” Cozca said. “That’s why I needed the ring toy. It was hers. In exchange, she took my father’s sword as a trophy when he was captured. I need you to steal it back.”

“Wow.” Edrelle said, following it with a low whistle.

“What?”

“Just a moment ago you were waxing about morality in war, only to now tell me that your oh-so-honorable father was captured in the middle of the Last War only to bang an officer in the oh-so-evil army and boom! That’s the story of Cozca the Southlander! Half Northman! Real moral and righteous stuff going on here, yep.” Edrelle looked so smug, Cozca wanted to punch her again. She opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it.

After a moment of silent walking, Cozca responded, “I did not ask to be born.”

“No one does. Don’t worry about it, Coz. Just ribbing you a bit.” Edrelle said delicately. “I don’t really see the Northman in you. Maybe your nose, I guess. You’re a bit fairer in complexion, and I’ve never seen your eyes in one of your kind, but that’s it, really. And you’re short.”

“Only to other Sutherlands. I’m a head taller than you, elf.”

“Hey now, I’m taller than most elves! I’m the super-elf, remember?” Edrelle chuckled.

Cozca smiled. This might actually work out, she thought, As long as she can help me first. Recalling what Edrelle had mentioned earlier, she asked, “And after that, we get along with your project? What is it?”

Edrelle reached down the front of her shirt and pulled out her necklace. It was a long, thin cylinder with a flat plane studded with concave and convex craters and bumps along its surface, in some of the most precise metalwork Cozca had ever seen in her life. It took her a moment, but she realized that the necklace was some sort of key, made of an unnaturally shiny steel. Edrelle held it out triumphantly.

“We’re gonna break into an Akled that nobody’s set foot in for over ten thousand years.”