Leah can’t focus on where she is taken, exactly, other than that there are always people nearby and that it is always noisy. Her eyes recover quickly enough, adjusting to the glare of sunlight after the darkness of the spell, but being upside-down and jostled about makes it hard to see details. She has the charms of her bracelet still, but cannot see them clearly enough to activate one – not that she plans to, so early on.

Sudden muffled noise and dimness: she is in a building. Craning her neck around, she can just make out the interior of a roomy entryway space before a door is opened and she is dropped unceremoniously in a closet.

The captain pulls out a strap of leather, and binds Leah’s wrists behind her back. He passes the shield and spear off to someone else and gives a few quiet orders in Ched, which Leah cannot in the least follow. The person nods, turning away to follow whatever orders they were given. Eschen closes the door and locks it.

She wriggles upright, and waits. The longer he puts off talking to me, the closer Seffon’s forces get. No ceasefire, but at least their leader has a new distraction…if he decides to come back and talk to me. He will come back eventually, right? He will, he has to; he wants to know about the bandolier.

Leah is left for what she estimates is about two hours, at the end of which the door is unlocked and opened abruptly, light spilling in. Eschen stands above her and gestures for her to follow him, and she does.

“Prime real estate,” she says, stumbling along behind, stiff and sore. “Who’d you steal it from?”

“Lord Borbrick, I believe he was called.” The captain opens the door to an empty sitting room. “He’s in the basement somewhere.”

“Alive?”

He draws the Cheden dagger from his belt and cuts Leah’s bindings; Leah keeps her hands close by her side, watching him carefully. He pulls over a pair of wooden chairs, sets them facing each other, and sits in one. He waits a few seconds, then gestures to the other. Cautiously, Leah sits in it, watching him for any sudden movement. They are alone.

“Who brought you across the river to the keep?” Eschen asks.

Leah taps her foot a bit, restlessly. “No, I’ve decided I want my question answered first. Borbrick: is he still alive?”

Eschen sighs. He raises a foot, then stomps heavily on the floor a couple times. “You alive?” He shouts downward.

A second passes, then a few weak thumps can be heard from under the floorboards, accompanied by muffled swearing.

“He’s alive,” Eschen says. “Who brought you across the river?”

“A fisherman. Male, late forties maybe? Tanned skin. Didn’t ask his name.”

“Is Lady Jeno still alive?”

“You already asked – ”

“You didn’t answer clearly.”

Leah raises a hand in appeasement. “Fair enough. She’s alive and well.”

“Why did you return?”

“I was carrying a message from Lord Seffon. How many questions do you get to ask before I get to ask one?”

Eschen raises an eyebrow, considering. “Three. What was the message?”

Leah is about to protest, then nods. “I see what you did there. Alright. The message was Lord Seffon declaring himself for Valerin.”

Eschen pauses before his next question. “Why?”

Leah considers answering sarcastically, then thinks better of it. “Because Seffon and I believe that Cheden and Devad have been conspiring to start this war, and Valerin is the pawn in whatever political game they are playing. Devad tried to force him to join them, so he decided to join the war on his own terms.”

Eschen nods. “Very interesting. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?”

“What do you know of the Great Three?”

“Mm…” Leah lets out a breath, frowning. “Tricky question, because I could answer one of two ways. I know that Devad has the recipe, and traded it to Ben-Lia during Jesaii’s time as Empress. I know that it has been very seldom used, for reasons which aren’t entirely clear to me but I believe have something to do with the scarcity of sulphur in this part of the world. On the other hand, I know that it was invented several millennia ago by the Chinese, who used it to make explosives for practical but also decorative uses.”

“Decorative?”

“My turn,” Leah says with a smile. “How vital is Jeno’s death to your personal goals in this war?”

Eschen tenses. “Hmm. Well, you have been very helpful. It is not at all necessary; this war would always have started over her, alive or dead, whatever the cause. So long as we could pin it on Valerin.”

Leah bites back all her questions. “The decorative use was this: the Chinese tradition was to use black powder to make what are called fireworks. Paper tubes were loaded with chemicals that burn different colours, and then shot into the air while lit with a fuse. The parcel would explode, and make colourful, noisy starbursts in the air.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“And yet I answered it.” Leah smiles. “How nice of me.”

The captain leans over and grabs her jaw in a metal-gauntleted hand. Leah clenches her teeth and meets his eyes, forcing herself to remain calm. “What is the battery bandolier?” He lets go of her face so she can answer.

“Glass jars, filled with acid.” Leah rubs a hand on her leggings to dry the sweat, but tries to make it look casual. “Two metal diodes in each, joined by a wire. It’s a way of creating artificial lightning, though much weaker.”

Eschen listens intently. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Of course. You use one copper nail and one zinc nail – those are the diodes – in each jar. Make sure they don’t touch, and are both in the acid. You string a whole bunch of jars in sequence, copper-zinc-copper-zinc-copper-zinc. The more you add, the stronger it gets. When you attach the beginning of the sequence to the end of the sequence, you create a closed circuit, which electrons – those are sub-atomic particles – can then travel along. This creates an electrical current, which can then be used to power electromagnets, light bulbs, clocks, heating elements, and any number of contraptions – or, stop magic from happening in their presence.” Leah gives a winning smile. “Incidentally, the bandolier is a clunky, immense battery, very weak and very impractical. I’ve seen ones the size of your fingernail that are even more powerful than what I had. And for free, I’ll throw in this:” She leans forward. “They can be used to utterly obliterate any and all magic on a global scale, if enough of them are in use. No magic. Anywhere.” She leans back, still smiling.

Eschen goes from uncertain, to intrigued, to fascinated, to furious. He remains frowning at her for a long time, rubbing his jaw. The blood has clotted in his beard, and once he notices it he avoids that half of his face.

“Your turn,” he finally says.

Leah had not expected him to stick to the pattern, or respect her stolen question. She thinks for a few seconds. “Who was I to you?”

Eschen scoffs at the question. “Come on.”

“No really. I’m giving you so many answers by asking this question. Who was I to you?”

Eschen listens more carefully, and thinks. He stares at her the whole time, and Leah stares back, trying to keep her expression neutral.

A full minute passes while he contemplates. Leah is beginning to get hopeful that she will be able to pass the full twenty-four hours like this.

“That was one of the memories I tagged, did you know?”

Leah raises an eyebrow but does not respond.

Eschen takes off the metal gauntlets and stretches his fingers. He stands and goes to a cupboard on the far wall, opening it and bringing out two glasses and a cut glass decanter. “I tagged the day we three met, the day Jeno killed Samson, and the day she got married. I wasn’t sure which one would interest you most.”

“I didn’t get a choice in the matter; it was Seffon who wanted to know the details of the spell you used.”

“Denoi Egv Eloiddha,” the captain says, filling each glass to a finger and carrying them back over. “Though I doubt it will mean anything to him. Or you.”

Leah takes the proffered glass and waits for him to be seated before raising it in a toast. He clinks the glass and they drink – a brandy, Leah thinks, and a strong one. She reflects that she has not had alcohol in almost two weeks, and that this is a strong dose to be starting on.

“But if that is your question, I will answer. You were an unknown and possibly dangerous element. I had a clear goal, and you had the potential to either ruin me or aid me – or to be utterly irrelevant, which was my first impression of you.”

Leah smirks and raises her glass again to that. He clinks, and they sip.

“But you were curious. In an endearing way, might I add. And cleverer than you let on, I sometimes suspected…no-one is that naive by accident. So I entertained your questions, as I do now, because it flatters me to be interesting to someone who is not also terrified of me.” This time he raises the glass, and Leah leans forward to clink it with an interested expression. “That much has remained unchanged: you hold no fear of me or my magic. What has changed is why.” They drink. “Before, you knew that you could outmatch me, if you played your cards very carefully, and you were right to think it. Now, you simply do not know who I am.”

“I didn’t know then at first, either.”

“But you learned quickly. As I said, you are cleverer than you let on. You observed.”

“So who was I to you, Eschen? A mystery? A source of flattery?”

“Another card on the table.” He swirls the remaining brandy around in the glass. “You were too noble to corrupt, but you were not without flaw. Jeno noticed you, in a way she shouldn’t have, and in the face of an arranged marriage she clung to the one promise of comfort before her life was no longer her own. You did the thing most young knights only dream of.” He raises the glass, Leah clinks hers, and they sip.

“For a while I thought you would be helpful; we could accuse Valerin of corrupting the daughter of Auzzo, have you both executed, and go to war on that – but it would be flimsy. A better plan; we could let the Valerids discover it, and have them arrest Jeno for deviancy, then go to war on them for carrying out justice without discussing it with us first. Unfortunately, though we gave them plenty of time to notice the romance, they were utterly blind.

“Then you were sent off to infiltrate Seffon’s fortress. I wrote you all off for dead; even if you did survive, if you managed to talk with Seffon and notice any of the discrepancies in the invasion forces it would have endangered my entire mission.” Leah notes the word choice but does not interrupt. “You would have been killed on your way back, before you could alert Valerin to the plot. In that, I unmistakably failed.”

“How so?”

“Many ways. By assuming you were dead, not simply captured. By not killing you the moment you returned. By not noticing earlier that your memories were gone. By not guarding you in prison myself. By not noticing the flagrant use of illusion magic during your escape. By not following you to the wild, when we realised your path, and killing you before you could reach the fortress. I had endless opportunities to stop you from throwing my plan into the sea.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He starts swirling the glass again then raises it. Leah clinks her glass and they both drink. Eschen’s is emptied, and Leah’s nearly.

“I hoped you would come back to the ship. I hoped that, if you had any memories, you would remember that much. Even if it was just old habits and not a conscious choice.” He sighs. “I could have wrapped you in layers of spell-work and sent you back as a puppet. I could have had you kill Jeno yourself. I could have had you kidnap her and bring her to Seffon. I could have had you…throw yourselves over the bridge into the rapids, where everyone could see. I might even have been able to talk you into doing some of it voluntarily, if I timed it right; you were starting to doubt your loyalties, and I could have offered you an alternative.” He raises his glass, then notices it is empty. Leah pours half of hers into it, then clinks it. They drink. “But you never came. I sincerely thought…”

“You could just as easily have chosen anyone else from the keep. Why me?”

“Because it fit the narrative: a jilted deviant lover. Because of your time with Seffon, making you a suspicious character.” He gets up to bring the decanter over, and refills the glasses. “Because I wanted to win you over to my side.”

“Your side?”

Eschen raises his glass. Leah clinks; they drink. He does not look away from her.

“Who were you to me: you were, very possibly, the missing piece I needed. And I was too much of a coward to act on it, because your face was so beautiful.”

Eschen raises his glass. Leah swirls hers around a bit, then clinks it.

“Vivitha thought so too.”

Eschen hesitates. “She thinks your face is beautiful?”

“Not mine; yours.”

Eschen blinks a few times. Leah drinks, and he follows a few seconds later.

“I think she might actually have been the one who shot you.” Leah traces her finger over her cheek.

“Hm.” Eschen nods pensively. “Fickle.”

Leah raises her glass. He clinks. They drink.

“She never said anything because she assumed you and I were sleeping together.” Leah watches him carefully to see if he gives anything away. He watches her as well.

Leah feels a mounting stress from not being about to tell what he’s thinking. In spite of herself, she begins to blush.

“Your memories have not come back in the slightest,” Eschen finally says.

The glass half-slips out of Leah’s hands. A thought enters her head uninvited: How far would she have been willing to go to get information from him?

“Those memories are inaccessible to me,” she says in response. “I’ve tried.”

“A pity.”

Her fingers tighten on the glass, and she forces herself to relax them. Her fingertips feel numb, and she can’t feel her cheeks. There are another two toasts left in the glass, unless she stretches them out. That’s enough for me. But he doesn’t know my tolerance level…

“Whose turn is it for questions?” she asks. “Oh bugger, was that my question?”

Eschen cracks a smile. “About this battery…”

“Yes, right.” Maybe the resistance charm would have worked in this instance? What’s the word again…Kievan Rus’? No…

“How did you learn of it?”

Leah frowns in thought. “Seffon found something…an anti-scry thing. Rings. I realised what it was, and I wanted to test a theory…it would ‘splain a lot, if electricity stopped magic. Lotta sense.”

“Who else knows of it?”

“You…Seffon…Solace, I guess…Jeno…Vivitha? I can’t remember…a handful of people at the Hold…”

“Solace?”

“The chick who broke me out of jail. The one with all the illusions, and the voices.”

“And who – ”

“My turn.” Leah straightens and gets rid of her droopy drunk facade. Eschen frowns. “Did you really sleep with Leah?”

Eschen swirls his glass, holding it from the top. “Why did you refer to yourself in the third person?”

Leah shrugs, swirling her glass to mirror his then switching it to her right hand. “I did it before.”

“When?”

“The last time you gave me a cup.”

The captain flinches to raise an arm, ready to block an incoming blow. Leah grins, and raises her cup in a toast. Eschen chews the inside of his cheek, then lifts his glass to clink it. They drink; Leah takes only a tiny sip.

“Now if I’m counting right, that was two questions you asked, before ever answering mine.” Leah stares him down. Eschen meets her gaze.

“Who am I to you?”

Leah narrows her eyes. “Long or short answer?”

They stare off again. Eschen raises his hands in appeasement, then raises his glass. Leah clinks it, and they drink.

“No.”

Leah nods, somehow feeling this is true despite having no proof.

“Who am I to you?” he asks again.

Leah considers this question. My question to him gave a lot away; this one must also. What does it mean? It means she never said in clear terms how she saw him. It means he doesn’t know exactly how much she’s forgotten. No…it’s in the present tense, so it means he’s asking for my memories since I woke up in Seffonshold. It means he cares about the answer. It means that whatever I used to think about him is not as important to him as whatever I think right now. It means he might still have plans for me, depending on how I answer.

“You have caused carnage in the city that was my home for two weeks – though the city did eventually turn on me. No, even that you are responsible for: your interrogation put me in jail.

“Now I know that you already had reason to suspect my memories were off, by the time of my arrest, and you certainly knew that no compulsion magic could last so long. Yet you pretended that you didn’t know, and that the magic might still be affecting me. I can see a bit how that played into whatever plan you were concocting, but I cannot forgive you for what you put me through.

“You were right that my loyalties were…in flux, at the time. Maybe under different circumstances I might have listened to your side of things, but you’ve hurt the people I care about too many times for me to consider that now. So, I suppose, who you are to me…” Leah swirls the glass, then raises it. “You’re the son of a bitch who started this war, and since you dragged me into it, I guess I’m gonna have to be the son of a bitch who ends it.”

Eschen grins at her, and clinks his glass. They drink. “Good luck,” he says, setting the empty glass down on the ground.

“And to you,” Leah says, setting hers beside it. She stands.

A slow rumbling builds up, shaking the ground of the manor, and Leah stumbles. Eschen catches her before she falls, then stands with her, holding her steady.

“What…?” Leah asks, looking to the source of the noise. She suddenly remembers where she is, and who she is with. “No. No, you didn’t…you couldn’t have made enough…”

Eschen smiles. “There wasn’t nearly enough powder to blow up the estate – nor did we ever want to. It’s a fine building for someone to live in. The bridges, however…” He shrugs. “Magic serves well enough for them; why waste expensive ingredients? The black powder was only for the choking bombs; so much safer for us to deploy at a distance, you see.”

The trembling in the earth lessens a bit. Rocks crumble in the distance, and a great many people are shouting. Leah looks up into his face, and realises how very out-matched she is.

For a split second, he looks down at her and his harsh expression softens – a split second, but a certain change.

“Stay.”

Leah can’t quite believe she understands right, but there it is again, a faint flicker of hope in his face.

I could – no, I couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right – it would be cheap – it would be unfair – I’m not that mean – and I don’t really want to – Oh for fuck’s sake! He’s murdered people! I’ve murdered people! I think we’re a little bit past calling a cock-tease mean!

Leah reaches up a hand and pulls his face down for a kiss, leaning in against him, pulling herself closer with her free hand, sliding it down his waist, over his belt, to the dagger –

Both their hands meet on the dagger. They pull apart, looking at each other, and Eschen shrugs ruefully.

“Worth a second try,” he says, then draws the dagger and stabs up into Leah’s ribs.

All the air leaves her lungs, and her knees give out. She grabs his shoulder to support herself, and he brushes her off, letting her fall to the ground in a pile, the dagger clattering beside her on the wood floor. He walks out of the room, pulling a small metal sphere from his pocket as he goes and pinching his fingers on the fuse to light it. He drops it and closes the door behind him.

Leah claws at the potion at her belt, drawing the flask up and uncorking it, dragging it up to her mouth. The bomb behind her goes off, and shrapnel goes flying, followed by a cloud of low-hanging smoke.

The potion warms her, and the wound in her side closes most of the way, as do all the scrapes and punctures from the shrapnel. Then the cloud reaches her, and her eyes begin to burn – her nose stings – her lips itch.

She reaches blindly for the charm bracelet, eyes squeezed shut. It was the last one he gave me so it’ll be at the end…a triangle. She finds it and grabs it, pressing it to her palm, pulling her cape over her mouth to get a last breath of clean-ish air.

“Kiess.”