Supper comes again in the evening, to Solace’s delight. Once again it is basic, the leftovers of the cooking process for whatever is being served in the dining hall. Leah does not recognise the servant who brings it down, but notes that it has been a different person each time.

“Your turn,” Leah says, as she wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “What’s Bair like? What are its Nations?”

“You’ve been to Bair before.”

“Nope, Leah Talesh has.”

“Hmm. Well, it’s big, and varied, and perfectly warm. You ought to visit.”

“Hopefully I’ll be home before I get the chance.”

“Is that a…big mood?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you’re catching on how to use that.” Leah leans back against the wall. “Think they’ll bring the pot back down for us?”

“I think we’re lucky they did it at all the first time. Might only have been because the dainty young Lady-to-be wanted to come down.”

Leah grimaces and measures her options.

“Oh for goodness – don’t hold it in if you have to go.”

“I really hate this.”

“Really? Most people love it. You must be so odd, to hate having to shit in your living space, in earshot of a stranger, without anything to wipe with or any – what did you call it, plumbing? – to wash it all away somewhere.”

“I never understood how important toilet paper was until I didn’t have any. God, I hate the medieval-ness of it all.”

The guard does another pass-through, and once again they both fall silent. He stops to look into Leah’s cell, giving a passing glance to Solace’s, before turning around and leaving.

“I guess they’re worried that with two of us, we might be planning something,” Solace whispers after the door closes. “Unlikely,” she says, at full volume.

“Why not? Have you been in here long enough to know it’s inescapable? Or does it have an international reputation as a formidable prison?” Leah asks it jokingly, but secretly worries it might prove true.

“Oh, I was put in here five days ago and got out four, that’s not the problem.”

“What do you mean got out?”

The hands hanging out of the bars retract, and the dungeon falls silent again. Leah watches and listens attentively, and suddenly feels a hand tapping on her shoulder.

She yells and falls backwards into the woodchips, and looks up through the bars at a tiny black woman in ratty clothes, holding up a swirling white candle topped with a green flame.

“I maintained a steady illusion of my sleeping body in the corner, thanks to this thing. Just a simple one, so the servants and guards wouldn’t bother me,” she explains casually. “I wriggled out under the door using the slough – not pleasant, so trust me, I can relate to your hatred of filth – and since then I’ve been cooling my heels in the unused torture room, waiting for an opportunity to escape.”

Leah stares up in disbelief.

“Now with one of the famous five on my side – don’t argue, you’re at least half her – I might be able to escape, find my belongings, and be out of the city before midnight. That is, if you’re willing to help.”

Leah takes a moment, then stands quickly, pulling herself up by the bars. “Of course I’m willing. I want out of here as soon as possible. Do you have the keys?”

“No.”

“Well then we’d need to wait for the guard to pass through again.”

Solace grimaces and points to the stone slough.

Leah eyeballs it. “Not a chance in hell I’d fit through that.”

Solace shrugs.

Leah turns her gaze to the bars, then to her own body. I was able to carry Jeno with no problem, that one time. I barely even felt her.

“What are you thinking of doing? Oh, you can’t be serious. Oh, really now. Come on. You won’t be able to, I’ve tried that in at least four different prisons and it’s never worked…” Solace’s protests quieten as Leah fixes her shoulder against one bar, grabs the one two away from it, and pushes.

Slowly, and with a lot of creaking metal, the bars bend

“Oh,” Solace breathes out. “That’s a big mood.”

“Thanks,” Leah says, grunting a bit as she wriggles sideways through the gap, “Now, where are our things?”

“In the guard’s room. We have to pass through there anyway, to get out, so I figure you go first, barrel him down, and we grab what we can and run.”

Leah smirks. “You said you hid in a torture room?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go there first.”

Rummaging through the torture room reveals only old blood, a leaky ceiling, thumb screws, and a series of chains and ropes. Leah grabs the sturdiest of the chains and goes to the guard door, gesturing Solace along silently. Solace seems excited at the action about to go down, and stays a safe distance back.

Leah swings the chain a few times, then slams the manacled end against the door, producing a resounding boom. She waits, and after a few seconds of alarmed fumbling the guard quickly opens the door, short sword drawn, looking within cautiously.

Giving him no time to prepare, she pushes into him, slamming him back against the wall and wrapping his sword arm in chains. While he struggles to free himself, she takes the sturdy manacle in her right hand like a clumsy set of brass knuckles and clocks him across the jaw. His struggling comes to a very sudden end, and for a second Leah’s heart freezes, wondering if she maybe miscalculated her strength. The guard slides to the ground with a rustle of leather and no other noise, but his chest continues to rise and fall. Leah’s hands shake as she coils the chain back up and sets it on the guard’s desk.

“I didn’t expect this,” Solace says, sounding impressed. “Is that your usual tactic?”

“My usual tactic is pretending I have pepper spray in my bag, and then running to the nearest public place,” Leah says coolly, face rigid, patting his body down for anything – coins, keys, weapons. She passes the sword to Solace. “Know how to use this?”

“Oh, a bit,” she says, pulling off the man’s belt to take the sheath. “Think he’ll wake up soon?”

“I have literally no idea. This is my first rodeo.”

“Your first what?”

“However, I think he’ll be out long enough for us to find our belongings and get ready to leave at our leisure. If he wakes up…” Leah nudges the manacles on the desk.

Solace considers briefly, then goes along with it. They rummage through the cubbies on the far wall, and find their belongings folded up and sorted. Leah looks to find somewhere to dress, and notices that Solace is just stripping and dressing in the middle of the room. Leah looks away, and starts putting on her armour. I’m very lucky I was dressed to go training when I was taken; none of my other belongings seem to be here. The only weapon she has is the dagger.

She turns back to see Solace dressed in a set of guard’s clothing, carrying hers under her arm. “I’ll only be putting this on once I’ve had a chance to wash,” she says, and Leah admits to the wisdom of this choice.

“The baths will be empty at this hour, we could go clean up now.”

“Can’t say I’m not tempted, but we’d be wiser to wash up in a river outside of the city. First, let’s think of how to get out unseen.”

“Do you know any invisibility spells?” Leah asks, and Solace seems to find the question humorous. “Okay, then what about an illusion?”

Solace considers, looking Leah up and down, then mumbles something and snaps her fingers.

“There. That should do.”

Leah looks down at herself, and sees that she has been illusioned to look like Jeno – a bit too tall, but otherwise identical.

“If anyone questions us, I’m your new private guard after the filthy traitor was locked away,” Solace says proudly, despite looking more like a circus tumbler than an estate guard.

“Think we have the time to make a detour to my rooms? For my weapons and such,” Leah asks as they open the doors. She pauses, hearing her voice. “Oh. I still sound like me.”

“I can’t change your voice; just don’t talk and you’ll be fine.” Solace pats her arm reassuringly. “They’d likely have emptied your rooms by now. If anywhere, they’d be in the training grounds near the stables.”

“Perfect.” Leah straightens her spine and begins walking, looking for familiar landmarks to place herself within the estate. “I don’t think we can both ride on one saddle, but we could ride bareback.”

“Ride?”

“My horse, Beeswax.”

“Ah, of course.” Solace follows quietly. “You wouldn’t mind telling me, maybe, why she’s called that?” she asks.

“I would if I knew.”

“Oh, right.”

Leah finally finds a window, and looks out into the deep night to get her bearings; they are on the south-western end of the estate, and the stables are to the east. “Cutting through the courtyard would be fastest,” Leah muses aloud. “I know a path from garden to garden where we can be hidden.”

The two make their way to the nearest doors, and Leah takes a moment to plot their course before darting forward, the duo hopping from rosebush to lilac to forsythia.

She hesitates, seeing the empty wine bottle and remembering how Kimry said she’d go back to collect it some time when its presence wouldn’t be remarked by the washing crew. Solace silently urges her on, but Leah stops, and takes off her embroidered headband – distinctive, and visible even through dark glass – and stuffs it inside the bottle. She prays Kimry finds it, and understands at least part of what it means.

Solace looks at her oddly, but does not comment.

They pull open the doors to the storeroom, and rifle through it looking for the short-spear and shield. Solace finally holds them up triumphantly, and Leah reaches over to take them, noticing that Solace has added a second short sword and a sling to her belt.

“Just being prepared,” she says with a shrug.

“Smart move,” Leah says, and they move on.

In the stables, Leah throws a blanket over Beeswax’s back and straps it securely down. She puts the bridle on slowly, so the horse doesn’t whicker or stomp, lest the stable-hands waken at the noise. Although, given that Kimry listed the hayloft as one of the places for our amorous encounters, it’s possible that noises in the stables are largely ignored by the hands.

Leah packs a few saddlebags full of grain and slings them over Beeswax’s back, and after a moment’s thought takes some of the jelly-like soap used for the horses’ tack. At Solace’s look, she says, “Just being prepared.”

The two have mounted up, Solace sitting behind and Leah holding on to the reins, when the door opens and Leah hears clopping hooves.

“Lady Auzzo?”

Ohhhhh fuck. Leah recognises Iris’s voice, as she backs Beeswax carefully out of the stall. Iris watches in confusion, gaze jumping to the petite guard in too-large Valerid armour.

“And who are you?” Her tone becomes accusing. “I haven’t seen you about the estate before, and I know you’re not part of the guard.”

Solace mumbles a few words and raises her hand in a strange pose.

“Don’t!” Leah hisses out, and Iris’s eyes narrow at the voice, then widen at the tinge of green magic accumulating around the poised fingers. Solace looks to Leah for direction, but does not back down. “Drop the illusion.”

Solace snaps her fingers. Leah sees her clothing shift back to her usual armour, and sees in the shock on Iris’s face that the illusion is gone.

“You know I’m not ensorcelled,” Leah says, putting as much conviction behind the words as she can. “I may not be well, I may not remember, but I know who my friends are right now.”

Iris backs Maelstrom away, the horse much less accustomed to the movement than Beeswax, or perhaps just picking up on her rider’s tension.

“I can make her forget…” Solace whispers, hand still poised.

“No!” Leah repeats, seeing Iris shrink in fear at the insinuation. The two stare each other down. “Did you come back with more silver than you left with?”

Iris’s expression cracks, and she smiles very sadly. “I always do.”

“And what’s the gossip at the docks?”

Iris dismounts, and leads Maelstrom forward towards her stall. “I don’t know. I didn’t go out tonight. I was in my room from after supper all the way ‘til sunrise.” She opens the stall door with force. “And that’s all I will give you.”

Leah breathes out and rides past her. “That’s twice you’ve saved my neck now.”

Iris avoids eye-contact, removing the bridle. “Never mention it.”

Gut churning with grief and relief, Leah rides out of the city, at first slowly and then, once over the long bridge, beginning to ride hard.