Mouse had given Liandra his tale. It was one full of pain, confusion and fear, but there was love too, and kindness; love for the man who now knelt on the floor in front of her. After receiving his injuries, Mouse had retreated to a dark corner of his mind, a place free of hurt and malice. He had been afraid to leave that place, but Liandra had managed to talk him back. It had felt like hours, the time she spent inside Mouse's mind, but it can't have been more than a few seconds to those watching it happen.

'How did you know his name?' the man on the floor said. His long hair, half black, half grey, fell about the deep lines in his face. He may have been ageing, but he was thick across the chest, and looked strong enough to properly hurt someone if he wanted to. Auric, Mouse had said his name was Auric.

Liandra opened her mouth, but Mother cut her off with a finger waggled in her face.

'Liandra.' Mother's voice was stern as an axe. 'Do not talk to this man.' She turned, and the finger pointed at Auric. 'You leave my daughter alone. I don't know what kind of madness ails you, but it has nothing to do with her. She has a love for animals, that's all, and the bad sense not to listen to her mother. Captain, it's time to go.'

The captain strode over from the bar, his boots resounding against the hard floor. 'As you wish. But first there is something I must do.'

There was a ringing sound, the scraping of steel against leather, and the captain stood there with his sword gleaming in the midday light. 'Auric the Blackhand, in the name of Corrim Vallendred, High Emperor and steward of Nothstrum, I take you into custody for war crimes against the Empire, pending summary judgement.' The captain pointed the tip of his sword at Auric. 'Will you come willingly? Please say no.'

'What are you doing?' Liandra shouted. 'You can't do this.'

Mother jerked at Liandra's arm again. Why won't you keep quiet?' Mother's voice rang in her mind.

'Stay out of this, girl. This man is responsible for the deaths of hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people, some of them as young as yourself.'

Auric sighed, down on the floor. He gave Mouse another teary-eyed pet, put his mouth near the dog's ear and whispered something. Liandra could feel the turmoil pouring off the old man.

'I suppose I've had more time than I really deserved,' Auric said sadly. 'Halford, will you take Mouse to Jayna and Flynn, ask them if they will look after him?'

The barman's jaw had hung open for the last several minutes, but he seemed to remember now how to use it. 'Uh, I…I can do that, I suppose.' Halford walked over from behind the bar and came over to grab Mouse's collar.

Auric scratched the dog once more. 'I'm sorry, boy. I can't stay with you. But at least you're alive. You go with this nice man now.' Auric let Mouse go and Halford led him away through a door at the back of the inn.

Auric rose, stared at the captain. He spread his arms wide. 'I come willingly and without resistance.'

'Do you have any weapons?'

'None of manmade design.'

The captain narrowed his eyes. 'Turn around. Put your hands together.'

Auric turned, slowly, stretching the moment out. Liandra supposed he was in no rush. There was no fear coming off him either. He put his hands together, and the captain sheathed his sword, grabbed a leather cord out of a pocket and approached Auric. He moved with caution, looking for any signs of movement or resistance from the older man. Liandra knew there would be none.

The captain grabbed Auric's wrists, pulled him backwards, off balance, and threw him to the ground. Auric hit the ground face first. There was a hollow clonk as his skull collided with the wooden planks.

'God's tits, you bastard. I said I was coming willingly,' Auric shouted.

The captain stood over him, whipped the leather cord around his wrists and lashed it tight. Auric seethed as the leather dug into his skin. 'Can't be too careful. A man like you is hard to take at his word.'

'The war was ten years ago, prick. I haven't hurt a human soul since.'

'Tell it to the dead.' The captain jerked Auric to his feet. A purple mark had formed on the old man's forehead. 'Alessa, take Liandra and return to the stable. Tell the others we have an additional prisoner, then collect your things and meet me back here. As soon as you return, we leave this place.'

'Good,' Mother said. 'We've spent too long here already.'

Liandra opened her mouth once more. 'But—'

'No more, girl.' Mother raised her voice, brought her face down to Liandra's until their noses almost touched. Mother wasn't angry, though it would have been easy for her to be. She wasn't concerned, exactly. She was afraid, Liandra realised, anxious to be on the road. 'You've caused enough trouble already. The time comes when you have to learn to do as you're told.'

Liandra swallowed a guilty lump at the back of her throat. She knew she could be reckless. She knew she caused Mother trouble. But how could anyone possibly understand, without feeling the things she felt, knowing the things she knew? She would have burst if she had to sit there a moment longer and ignore Mouse's pain. It was the only way to stop it. If Mother had felt it, she would have done the same thing. Liandra liked to think anyone would, but then, she really had no way of knowing.

'As you say, Mother. You are right, as usual.'

Mother smiled sadly, kissed Liandra on the forehead.

They left the captain alone with Auric in the inn and walked back around to the stable. Mother hurried their pace, dragging Liandra behind. The other two soldiers lounged in the hay, sharing a heel of bread. Stroud was still tied to the pole where he had spent the night. McJames, the one with the funny haircut that made his hair look like an upside-down bowl, teased him by throwing crumbs just outside his reach. Beecham encouraged McJames with hearty laughter, a spot of drool running down his cleft chin. Stroud, for his part, mostly ignored their antics. There was a sense of quiet contemplation coming from the big prisoner. It seemed he was biding his time.

'Ahem,' Mother said, as her and Liandra walked under the shelter of the stable roof. 'Would you two comport yourself with the decorum befitting soldiers of The Empire? Cruelty to this prisoner is not warranted.'

The soldiers turned lazy eyes towards Mother. 'Huh?' McJames said. 'Vallendred's cruelty is what got us here in the first place, is what won his stewardship over this poxy land.'

Poxy? thought Liandra. She had actually found what she had seen of Nothstrum over the last few months to be quite charming.

Mother sighed. 'I doubt he would see it that way.'

'What would you know, woman?' Beecham piped up. 'You ain't ever set foot on a battlefield.'

Liandra felt Mother's anger grow. It radiated off her like a fever. She put fists against her hips. 'Have either of you, fresh little buttercups? I know a lot more than either of you could imagine. Vallendred would have you—'

'The captain arrested someone,' Liandra cut Mother off before she said something she would regret. 'Said he's to come with us, and we're to meet him at the inn. We're leaving town.'

The soldiers sat up at that, frowned at each other. 'Arrested someone? Why the fuck would he do that?'

'Watch your mouth in front of my daughter,' Mother snapped, clapping her hands over Liandra's ears.

Beecham rolled his eyes. 'Sorry, little one,' he said, with a glare at Liandra.

Mother removed her hands from Liandra's ears. 'He knew him,' Mother said, exasperated. 'Said he was guilty of war crimes. His name was Auric Black something.'

'Auric The Blackhand,' Liandra said.

Now the soldiers stood up. Their faces dropped. 'Are you telling me Auric The fucking—sorry—The fricking Blackhand is here, in bum-frick Brunholm, and the captain's taken him into custody?' McJames said.

'It seems that way, doesn't it?' Mother's anger had quelled for the moment, but her tone was full of ice.

The soldiers slowly turned to one another. 'We're bloody rich,' they said, in unison. They embraced each other, danced about the stable, kicking up hay and dust, whooping and hollering with delight.

Mother raised her voice. 'The captain said to be ready, to bring his things. We leave immediately.'

The two quit their celebrating and stood in the stable looking like idiots, smiles slowly drooping off their faces. 'Right.' They released each other, and brushed themselves off sheepishly.

'And where is Father Fairwell?' Mother said, with a look of sudden realisation.

Beecham shrugged. 'Went off to pray somewhere. Said he'd be back in a minute.'

'Well, I hope he is.' Mother turned her attention away from the soldiers. 'Liandra, collect your things. Make sure you are ready to depart.'

Liandra nodded, and walked to the other side of the stable. She passed Agrafell on the way, and the horse looked up at her. She felt his calm, but his boredom as well, his longing to run, to have the wind rippling through his mane. His tale had been one of contentment, running across the middle lands of Nothstrum. His master was kind enough, fed him well, looked after his feet. But recently, Agrafell and other horses he had met in the area had been full of fear. Many of them didn't want to run at night, often feeling like there was something dark lurking in the shadows. Liandra pushed the fear out of her mind, gave Agrafell a parting smile, and gathered her things.

Father Fairwell returned as Liandra was shrugging her bulky pack onto her shoulders. The man seemed to wander around as if he knew where he was going, but at the same time had nowhere to be. Mostly, she sensed a kind of blankness from him, a purity almost, but not a comforting one. Perhaps he was just an idiot, blank of mind, absent, the kind of person you could talk to for five minutes, but they wouldn't hear a single thing you said.

Mother relayed the news to the priest, who skittered about, gathered his meagre possessions, and once they were all ready, they left the stable behind. As soon as they were back within sight of the inn, the captain barrelled out the front with his new prisoner held out at arm's length. Auric stumbled as the captain pushed him.

'Bring me proper shackles,' the captain said. 'We're going to have to watch this one like a hawk.'

The captain really was fearful of this man, who must have been fifteen years his senior. Liandra wasn't sure why. All she could feel from Auric was regret and the type of calm someone had when they accepted their fate was out of their hands.

'Is that really him?' Beecham piped up. 'Is that really The Blackhand?'

'Claims he is,' the captain said. 'He matches the description. He's the right age. And from what I've been able to ascertain in the last ten minutes, seems he really was one of King Yulian's generals.'

'Holy shit,' McJames said, stepping up to face Auric in the middle of the street, apparently forgetting Mother's request to clean up his tongue. 'It really is him, isn't it?'

Auric glowered back at McJames.

'Never thought I'd be standing in the face of the fucker who burned Rothwich to the ground. It's a pity you're worth more walking than in the ground. Vallendred'll see your skin hung from his walls.'

So, that was it. That was why the soldiers were so afraid of this man, and why he was worth so much. Liandra knew much of Nothstrum's war for independence, of course, had grown up hearing about it, though she struggled to remember the dates and the names. Rothwich, however, was one that most people remembered. The city had been long held by Vallendred's army, until it was burnt to the ground in the night, that is, when Yulian's rebels snuck in, doused the place in oil and set the whole place alight. Thousands of people—soldiers mostly, but men and children too—had burned alive as they slept, or as they tried to escape their barred houses.

McJames spat in Auric's face. The old man ground his jaw, scowled back, wiped his face as best he could on his shoulder, then headbutt the soldier square in the nose. There was a crunch as McJames' head whipped back. His hands shot up to his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

'Oh dear,' Father Fairwell said.

'Enough,' the captain shouted. He kicked Auric in the back of the knee, and he went down into the dirt road. 'Beecham, secure this prisoner and chain him where he belongs.'

'Yes, sir.' Beecham ran over to Auric, a set of shackles clanking in his hands.

'Fuck. Is it broken?' the young soldier said, blood dribbling into his mouth.

The captain walked over, peered into McJames' face. 'It bloody well better be, the amount of blood coming out of it.'

'Ass-licker broke my fucking nose.'

'Well, that'll teach you for puttin' your nose where it can get broken, won't it? Like a hawk, I fucking said.' The captain pulled out a kerchief and held it to McJames' face. 'Hold that against your nostrils 'til the blood stops. Gods, is it too much to ask for a pair of competent men?' The captain's words trailed off in a murmur.

Beecham shackled Auric's hands and dragged him over to Stroud. He linked the two prisoners together, then brought them both over to the captain.

The captain ran a hand over his bald head, took the end of the chain. 'What a marvellous idea this is turning out to be,' he said under his breath. 'Well, no use in standing around. Let's get some miles under our feet.'

'What about my nose?' McJames said. Dark bruises had started to form under his eyes.

'It'll heal,' the captain spat. 'And if it heals crooked, it'll serve you right.'

'You'll pay for that, twat,' McJames muttered.

The captain led the way, as he always did, stomping towards the gate, his prisoners trailing behind him on their clinking chains. Liandra and Mother followed, with Father Fairwell bringing up the rear, his head flittered back and forth like an owl. The old gateman who had let them in last night regarded them as they passed, threw a scornful salute at the captain, a venerable nod to Liandra.

They passed through the gates and back onto the cold roads of Nothstrum. It would be a few days before they reached Whitehall. Liandra had thought about what would happen upon their arrival every day for the last few months. She thought about what Mother would have to do, once they got there. But she knew Mother didn't think of it, just saw it as a task that needed doing, as she saw most things. Still, Liandra almost felt as if she would miss this time on the road, this simple time.

'Wait, wait,' came a shout from behind. Halford, the owner of the inn, jogged down the street, his great belly bouncing in front of him.

They all turned, and he came up to them, stopped, rested a hand on his knees while he caught his breath, waved the other one, begging patience.

'What is it, man? Spit it out,' the captain said.

Halford turned to Auric. 'He's with them. Mouse, I mean. He's with Jayna and Flynn. I thought you should know while you still had the chance.'

'Good,' Auric said in his rough voice. 'You have my gratitude, but maybe you could do one more thing for me.'

Halford winced. 'You've got a lot of cheek asking me these things. I believe it was you said you would do some work for me.'

Auric's jaw clenched. 'I did. And I meant it. But it seems I may not get the chance.' By way of exclamation, Auric held up his shackles, gave them a little jiggle.

'Fair enough,' Halford said. The redness in his face had started to fade. 'As long as it doesn't involve running, I'll try my best.'

'See that the boy gets some shoes.'

Halford nodded. 'I will.'

'Time to go,' the captain said, tugging at the chain.

As they left the town behind and wound their way into the southern hills, Liandra felt the vague, murky emotions of several hundred lives dissipate. While she had grown used to feeling what others felt, she sometimes cursed her strange ability. She had learned to block out the noise, the background haze of other people's minds, somewhat, at least. But occasionally she was afraid she would lose herself amongst the ocean of experience, the never-ending tide of emotion, pouring down on top of her all at once. And she would become like Mouse had, trapped in a walled-off corner of her mind.

She turned her eyes to the sun, closed them, let the heat warm her skin. For now, the air was clear, the countryside was still.

They came to a high place that looked down on the little town. It seemed almost like a painting then, with its thatched roofs and little curls of smoke twining into the air. A waft of autumn leaves spiralled lazily on the breeze.

Goodbye, Agrafell, she thought. May the wind forever be at your back.