Leah’s mouth hangs open a bit. “Jeno…by who? Why?” she finally asks.

“By Lord Valerid. She’s accused of sorcery and murder.”

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible, she would never…who is she supposed to have murdered?”

“Samson Valerid.”

Leah collapses back to the pillows, blinking. Her memories of the boy are faint – she had never spent time with him, other than the one awkward encounter in the hallway – but the news is still a blow. Solace takes a seat beside her and strokes her hand. Adan is still standing over them with the sheathed sword, uncertainly.

Seffon returns from the doorway, gesturing for the guard to leave. “Are you certain?”

“I was under an illusion, serving lunch at the keep when the news broke,” Solace says. “One of the guards came in and informed the Valerids, quietly, but everyone knew by their reactions what had happened. Finding out who, though…you’re right that it seemed impossible.”

“It is impossible,” Leah says firmly. “She wouldn’t have. Fuck, she can’t have; she’s a waif, she could barely lift a sword if she wanted to.”

“The deed wasn’t done with a sword; as I understand it the boy was killed in their parlour, and the shape of the wound suggests it was inflicted with a Cheden dagger.”

“She didn’t own one of those daggers.”

Solace shrugs. “Neither does anyone from Valerin. Likely she took it from one of her parents’ guards, although I gather there’s a fringe theory that your spirit possessed her body and forced her to do it.”

“Oh, right, hence the sorcery charges,” Leah says, sarcastically but not surprised.

“No, that was because she was apparently resistant to the truth spell they put her under to try and get a confession.”

Seffon sits up at that, as does Leah. “Who performed the spell?” Leah asks. “Captain Eschen was the one who did it to me, but why would they trust the opinion of a Cheden officer in judging the guilt of a Cheden suspect?”

Seffon’s head snaps to her. “They put you under a truth spell?” he asks sharply.

Leah nods. “For a few minutes, while they were trying to figure out if I had been brainwashed by you.”

Seffon’s eyes widen, and his mouth sets in a disapproving line – disapproval towards the others involved, and not to Leah, or at least so she hopes. Even Sewheil seems unsettled by this news, though she hides her thoughts better.

Solace ignores all of this, focused instead on Leah. “I couldn’t get close enough to eavesdrop, but I heard from one of the other serving girls that it was the captain, and that the Auzzos did it without Lord Valerid’s permission, to try to prove Lady Jeno’s innocence – but the spell wouldn’t work on her, or something like that. Kimry said she heard the Duke swearing and yelling at the mage, but he couldn’t get a result.”

Leah sits up even more. “Kimry?”

“She took an interest in me when I first arrived; she was looking out for my little servant girl persona, and she’s willing to cover for me when I disappear to take care of my affairs elsewhere.”

Seffon sits down in shock. “How could a truth spell just not work? Which variant did he use, do you know?”

Solace shakes her head.

Flashing back to that morning in the Lord’s office, Leah rubs her lips, remembering how they had cracked and bled. “For me, all I remember was he put a bare hand on the back of my neck, and my vision went dark in a weird way. I couldn’t breathe, the words just sort of…pulled themselves out of my lungs.”

Sewheil’s expression hardens further, and Seffon pales a bit, then lets out a breath. “That’s a nasty piece of necromancy.”

“Necromancy?”

Seffon continues unaware. “I thought that spell was banned even in Cheden. How could she have resisted it? And why would Lord Valerid believe the Auzzos?”

 “Were her parents even there, at that point? Surely they would have returned back to their court, after having been away so long. Once the marriage was confirmed – which doesn’t take more than a night, usually,” Sewheil asks, through Seffon’s translation.

He was fifteen! Leah thinks angrily, but does not speak. It hadn’t even occurred to her they might have ‘confirmed’ the marriage. She suddenly considers the possibility that Jeno might have had reason to hate her husband enough to kill him. No. She knew all along what she was getting into, and she feared it, but she was ready to face it. Besides, who’s to say she’s not bi or pan? But even so…

Oblivious to Leah’s thoughts, Solace addresses Sewheil’s question. “They were still there, organizing a military foray with the five. I think there were plans to do some sort of revenge-attack against Seffonshold for having taken Leah.”

“Do they know she’s here?” Seffon asks, very seriously.

“They don’t, but they suspect. They followed Beeswax’s tracks heading west, but lost the trail in the forest.”

Sewheil is translating this in a quick whisper for Adan, whose face is running through a range of expressions rapid-fire. When she’s caught up, she reattaches her sword-belt and stands at attention.

“Fã fell come seunẽ dan fy ha plan’. I fell pass d fõ teu d face taufẽs.”

Seffon nods at her, and she walks out with purpose.

“What was that?” Leah asks.

Seffon stands and straightens his jacket. “We must alert all the watch towers, and our people in the bordering farms. Whatever conflict is brewing, it is about to break loose. Leah, we could use your help, if you’re willing.”

Leah’s mouth hangs open. She shakes her head, then turns back to Solace. “When is Jeno due to be…”

Solace guesses the question. “She will be executed in a public square, as a common criminal. Tomorrow noon was the last I heard; it’s the traditional time for executions in Valerin, as it allows the most people possible to attend as spectators.”

“Yes, where I’m from too, way back when.” Leah brushes herself off and stands up. “How did you get here so quickly, and can you bring me back the same way?”

Solace’s eyes widen, but she schools her expression back into neutrality. “I came on foot, with a wind-walk spell to get to you on time. We don’t have the time for you to learn it, but I could bring you back with me; we’d get there by morning, easily.”

Seffon crosses his arms. “No.”

Leah turns on him in indignation. “With all due respect, I am not your prisoner, I am your guest. You can’t keep me here if I am needed elsewhere, and right now, I need to get to Jeno.” She turns to walk out the door.

“No. Rest first,” Seffon says, forcefully. Leah stops to listen. “At the very least Solace needs rest, if she is going to carry you all the way to Valerin. Take a few hours to prepare, and leave just before sunrise; you’ll still get there in time. Solace,” He turns to her, with a bit of an odd look. “We can provide you a room, and food if you need it. Will you need components?”

“I carry my own,” Solace says, patting the sleeve that holds the candle.

Seffon grimace-grins. “I’d like to know where you found one of those.”

Solace scoffs. “Found? Pfft. I made it. And I’ll take that room, if the offer was sincere.”

Seffon takes a moment to recover from whatever bombshell she has apparently dropped. “Of course.” He calls to the guard outside the door, and instructs him to prepare a guest room and a meal for the bard.

With a last reassuring squeeze of Leah’s arm, Solace follows the guard out, looking tired but vindicated. Leah shifts from foot to foot, wishing to be already underway.

“What good do you expect you could do like this?” Seffon asks her, his posture softening. “Come. It’s high time these were returned to you anyway.”

He leads her out and on a generally northward path through the Hold, down to the ground floor. The halls are dark the further in they go, and with a word Seffon summons a floating white ball of light to illuminate the way, casting sharp shadows that grow and shrink as the duo continue along their path. They finally stop at a storage room near the centre, by what Leah mentally classifies as the “militia” zone of the Hold.

The storage room contains a series of standardised weapons and armour, as well as a handful of narrow lockers with names or numbers on the doors. Seffon unlocks one of these with a hand gesture and a tap. Within, Leah sees her shield, spear, dagger, and armour, neatly stacked. Leah grabs them and begins to dress, but Seffon takes her arm and stops her.

“You should rest too; when you get to the city you’ll need to be alert.”

“I couldn’t sleep now. I’m too worried.”

Seffon frowns, but lets go of her. “At least lie in bed for a while, to see if rest comes.”

Leah shakes her head wordlessly, fidgeting, and instead heads back to her lab. Seffon trails after her, the light bobbing along beside him, casting Leah’s shadow long in front of her. When he enters the room after her and sees the set-up on the table, he nods understandingly.

“I imagine, if there’s even the slightest possibility they suspect my being involved, there will be some leniency towards the use of magic to detect or capture me…or I suppose kill me,” Leah says, as she transfers the vinegar to a series of twenty small vials, setting up the electrodes in their cork lids but not connecting the wires. “I hope this travels well…”

“I’ll get one of the seamsters to make a belt for them.”

“Hm. A leather sort of thing, or macramé…could work.”

“But Leah…”

“Hm?”

Seffon reaches out and takes her hand. “You’re distraught. I can’t pretend to understand why this set you off more than anything else – I suppose having been by her side for so long, you feel protective of her – but there are larger forces at work here. This war isn’t going to be averted by your rushing in and doing…whatever it is you plan to do.”

Leah shakes her head, still spinning a vial in her other hand. “If war is arriving, then we must prepare, but we can’t prepare at all if we don’t have the facts.” She punctuates her words by pointing with the vial, eyes focused intently but not seeing.“Whether Jeno is guilty or innocent, she will have the facts.”

“And you will get to her on time, even if you take the night to rest and prepare.”

She continues shaking her head, then pulls her hand back and begins pacing. “I couldn’t sleep. I know what that prison is like, Seffon. I know how frightened she is of magic and war, and I can’t believe that she’s a part of this willingly.”

Seffon walks around the table to grab her and hold her still. “Leah, I will turn you unconscious again if you refuse to try to sleep of your own free will.”

“Oh, ‘cause it worked so well the last time. Oh!” She slaps her forehead. “We didn’t even ask lieutenant Adan about the rescue!”

Seffon chuckles, and begins gently leading her out. “I have to prepare, Leah. The Hold is primarily a school and an administrative centre, but now we must become a military stronghold. You’ll be out of here before sunrise, and if you want to be able to help her, you need to be at your strongest. You need to rest.”

“Yes…yes alright,” Leah says, nodding, eyes still unfocused. “I’ll go.”

“Do.” Seffon nods, turning her in the direction of her room. He straightens and walks off to his own business, the floating orb of light winking out as he re-enters the lit public hallways of the Hold.

Leah finds her way back to her rooms. Distracted, she takes off her clothes and lies in bed in a shift, eyes wide, thoughts racing.

Could Jeno have done it? Why would she? What does it give Cheden, if they instigate this war with a murder? Is that even enough to trigger a war? Seffon and Adan certainly seem to think so.

Seffon. Why try to pin things on Seffon for so long, just to turn around and start the war themselves? Maybe Devad and Cheden are working separately, but towards the same goal? No, the infiltration team was supplied by both. So they definitely framed Seffon for some stuff, and now they’re framing Jeno. What would framing Jeno give them? Why would they frame her? They must have known she would be killed for it…why aren’t they trying to get her out of there? God, if we show up tomorrow and the Auzzos have already snuck Jeno out…

She gets up and paces the dark room, then throws on a jacket and sneaks out to the library. It takes her several tries before she gives up on lighting the candle with a flint, and instead darts out to light it from one of the hallway candles and bring it back in. The library now lit well enough for her to read without serious eye-strain, she pulls down the book with information on Cheden’s noble families and settles into a chair to read it.

Nishev…Khoijan…Auzzo…What’s the imperial family name? Or are they so important they don’t need one?

I wonder if the Eschen line is in here?

She digs through the book, but in all mentions of noble families she finds no mentions of his name. Going to look through other books, even Olues and Ched ones, she finds one slim book that seems to have a sort of register of families.

“Maze heretazes of Ƃeden”

“Maze” she has seen used for “magic,” and so she settles in, figuring that perhaps it mentions the military academies, or some such.

The names are listed alphabetically, but the order of the alphabet here seems to be different to the one Leah is used to. She flips through to find the Es, then starts going through the section slowly.

Eben…Ekhoi…Ejav…Eazzol…Essoi…Eschen! You’re kidding me! Huh, so that’s how it’s spelled.

She brings the book closer to the candlelight to read, squinting her eyes and tilting her head away to bring the dim letters into better focus.

Kabram Eschen, b. y. 19 E. Harjen.

               -Sons: F. Eschen, G. Eschen>, J. Arol.

               -Dautẽs: G. Eschen, R. Eben.

>Gaovrem Eschen, b. y. 3 E. Ovroi

               Sons: D. Eschen.

               Dautẽs: E. Eschen.

               None ue th gef.

She notices that the last line is at the end of every surname tree; looking for a pattern, she sees that every name followed by a triangle gets its own sub-heading, with each bloodline being followed until no children have a triangle.

“None ue th gef…” she says the words aloud, then realises that they mean “None with the gift.”

Looking back at the cover, and cross-referencing with the pronunciation guide she and John made, she translates it as ‘Magic heritages of Cheden.’

So these are born-magic families? I suppose it makes sense for born-magic to be genetic, and for children to have it…but it occasionally disappears from a line, apparently? I suppose it’s a recessive trait. Or maybe a super-recessive one, like red hair.

The notes after each parent name she assumes to be dates of birth; the last part seems to refer to the Emperor or Empress in power at the time of the person’s birth. Quickly deciding that would take too much math to calculate, she instead satisfies herself with noting that the Eschen line had multiple born-magic users, at around the time the Auzzo family was given its coronet.

So he’s probably born-magic, not learned-magic. I should ask someone what the practical difference is. I know Sewheil seems to not need spell components like Seffon does, but maybe that’s just their styles of casting…hell, Solace uses a candle and a snap for almost everything. I should ask someone…

The book falls out of her hands and she lurches back awake.

I should go to my room. Seffon was right, I need sleep. She puts the book away and blows out the candle. The adrenaline has worn off…I’m more tired than I realised.

She returns to her room and collapses into bed, rubbing her eyes and burying her face in the thin pillow.

Tomorrow morning…tomorrow morning I’ll find out, one way or another.

*

A knock at the door wakes her up. It’s still dark outside. She’s groggy, but as soon as she remembers the night before she bounces up and out of bed.

John is there to help her get dressed – in her full armour, she realises with some pride. She finds it odd, as each piece goes on, how familiar they all feel, how comforting.

He accompanies her out and into the mess hall, where a light breakfast is being served to the other early-morning workers, who all turn and watch with some interest and alarm as Leah enters in her full gear. Solace is there already, halfway through her plate, dressed in Valerid guard’s clothing. Leah joins her without a word, and burns through the food quickly, eager to be off.

Seffon arrives shortly, carrying a sort of bandolier of glass vials, the connecting wires attached to a copper hook-and-eye link which has been left undone. He seems uncomfortable even to be near it, even though it’s inactive. Leah shrugs it on, shifting it and adjusting the straps until she’s satisfied that it’s secure.

“Ready?” he asks, and Leah nods.

“No she’s not,” Solace says, reaching into her bag and pulling out a green bundle. “It’ll be cold, you’ll need this.” She lets it unfurl, revealing it to be Leah’s cloak.

Leah feels almost sentimental as she takes it and slings it over her shoulders, clasping it over each pauldron. “Oh, this is such a superhero moment.”

Solace’s grin wavers for a moment. “I…don’t know what that – ”

“You get used to it,” Seffon cuts in with a weary sort of familiarity.

Leah gets it settled then nods again, looking to Solace. “Ready.”

“Off to the rescue then,” Solace says, with a bizarre mix of sobriety and humour. They leave the hall, pass through the main gates, and turn to face east, where a faint glow of morning sifts through the trees.

Solace instructs Leah to begin walking; she holds Leah’s arm, humming a little song as they go. The ground seems to pass under them at a strange speed; too fast, each stride covering too much ground, yet there is no motion blur, no acceleration. Every step, Leah feels like she’s floating.

“How are you doing?” Solace asks, once they’ve gotten up to a fair speed.

“It’s…strange, but okay,” Leah says, trying not to look at her surroundings as she goes. “What happens if we hit a tree, or a deer, travelling like this?”

Solace laughs. “We’re travelling on the wind, my dear, and the wind stops for nothing. We can dodge almost anything travelling like this.”

“Hm. Famous last words…”

They walk on, and Leah feels the chill of the air, very grateful to have her cloak. She wonders how Solace came by it, then remembers something from the night before.

“You said, ‘to get to me on time.’ You wanted to reach me, specifically?”

Solace grins a tiny bit. “I saw your expression when I gave you Jeno’s guise. She mattered to you. I knew you’d want to help her if you could.”

“I didn’t realise I was so easy to read.”

“Easy to read? No.” Solace guides their path through the forest, apparently noticing landmarks even at this high speed. “The book of Leah opens to any hand, I think, but is written in a language we will never understand.”

“How poetic.”

Solace shrugs. “Bard.”

They walk on for a minute or so, seeming to pass kilometres in that time.

“So do you have a plan for when you get there?”

Leah shakes her head, then explains what she and Seffon have been investigating; the possible Cheden-Devad alliance, the trading of military secrets, the false invaders and missives from Seffon.

“That makes me think of something from an old song,” Solace cuts in, there. “An old Deepwoods song, from the south. Devad famously drove their people away using blood-pardons.”

“Blood-pardons…I think I’ve heard of those. What are they, exactly?”

“Spouses are considered to be one person, under Devadiss law. If one member of a pairing commits a crime, both are punished. If one signs up for the military, so must the other. It dissuades people from committing crime, and ensures a healthy supply of both soldiers and military orphans for a next generation of fighter. However, it’s possible to break free from a debt or responsibility by undergoing a blood-pardon; one member of the pairing undertakes a dangerous act, such as a suicide mission or medical experimentation, to permit the other to go free. Devadiss poets consider it to be quite the noble, romantic gesture.”

“And that’s what happens in the song?”

“No, the song is from the Deepwoods. It’s about the horror of knowing that your towns are being besieged by people who are dying to free their families from a government they fear – of both hating and pitying your foe – of wanting to save the very people desperate to be killed by you to save their loved ones.”

“That’s…horrifying. How come more people don’t know about this?”

“Because the people of the Deepwoods were all but eradicated by Devadiss blood-pardon fighters, a few hundred years ago. The system is incredibly effective, which is why Devad uses it. Devad hasn’t had a lot of people needing to be blood-pardoned since then; they’ve been pretty stable lately, keeping to themselves.”

“But the invaders…suicide missions of relatively untrained fighters, armed and sent in part by Devad…”

Solace inclines her head, briefly. “It fits the pattern.”

Leah is quiet for a few minutes. “Then…why does Devad suddenly have people in need of blood-pardons? Why are there suddenly a few dozen extra married people committing crimes, getting into debt?”

“Or spouse pairs being conscripted into the military.”

Leah considers. “Going kamikaze to save your partner from the horrors of war…so there are a lot of people suddenly being conscripted?”

“Maybe. It’s one possibility among many. Maybe this is just a new sort of blood-pardon that’s available to them, and there are always this many people seeking pardons, just usually through other means. Wouldn’t make for a very maintainable population level if that were the case, though, would it?”

Leah’s thoughts tie themselves in knots trying to figure it out. “I can’t understand what’s going on.”

“Welcome to what the rest of us are living through, my dear.”