After the defenders dispersed, Brin followed Kevim to try to get a word with him. He hung back while Kevim conferred with what was left of the town’s leadership, following along behind quietly. Kevim stayed between others the entire walk, though,then headed towards the Prefit’s house. The Prefit’s front room was a big conference room where the Council conducted their business. Apparently it was still in use even though the man himself was indisposed.

Brin called out before they went inside, “Kevim, sir, can I–?”

“Not now.” Kevim waved him off, and stepped inside. The leadership, Balbi included, followed him inside, but a firm glance at the head [Farmer] made it clear that Brin wasn’t welcome to follow.

Brin tried to listen outside the door to get an idea of what they were talking about, but the place must’ve been enchanted against eavesdroppers. He tried using [Call Sound through Glass] on the windows, not to make any particular sound, but more to see if he could figure out how to listen through the Skill, but the window flashed red. Some kind of magical protection? Brin took off before he could get in trouble.

Well, that was a bust, but the chances that Kevim would take him seriously even if he could get his attention were slim to none. Who would he listen to? A fellow [Hunter], maybe? Brin decided to track down Luiza, the [Gatherer] turned [Huntress].

After asking around, he found that she’d been positioned near the south gate. She was one of the [Hunters] who patrolled the walls, making sure that nothing climbed over, and taking notes of spots where the undead were trying to hack through. Pretty soon, the gate defense wouldn’t be the only battles of the day. The town would have to do the same thing to repair sections of the wall as the undead started to break through.

When he found her, she didn’t stop her quick pace, so he fell in beside her. “Hey, Luiza, how’s it going? How’s that new and improved [Trickshot] treating you?”

Actually, he could just [Inspect]. When he did, he realized that she’d already gone up to level 32 and gotten a new Skill, [Effortless Pull]. It decreased the magic costs of all her offensive bow Skills. Right now she only had one of those, but now she could use it much more often. The perfect choice for leveling during a siege.

“Never mind, looks like you’re doing great!” Brin said before she could answer.

“It’s weird, to level so fast after being stagnant for so long,” Luiza admitted. Her eyes never stopped scanning. Up and down the walls on one side, and then peering through the alleyways on the other. “Do you mind? I’m actually in the middle of a shift.”

“I don’t mind at all,” said Brin, pretending that he hadn’t noticed the dismissal. “I was wondering, does Kevim listen to you?”

“I guess he probably would if I had anything to say. He always has time for fellow [Hunters].”

“Could you talk to him for me? Before she ran away, Tawna came and talked to me. She said that we can win this, we just need to hold out for a little longer. She wanted me to make sure that Kevim knows that we shouldn’t surrender. Although, honestly I wonder why she didn’t talk to him herself.”

Luiza snorted. “Oh, I can answer that one. Kevim hates Tawna. Underhanded people like her drive him crazy. You probably didn’t know this, but when Tawna was on trial for what she did to you, Kevim was the one who tried to push for her to be executed.”

“Balbi is going to try to talk to him, too, but I don’t think he’ll listen to her.”

Luiza laughed, then remembered she was on patrol and moved her eyes twice as fast along the walls, as if some infiltrator was waiting for her momentary distraction. “You got that right. Nobody likes Balbi. She’s good with laundry, though. I accidentally left some sugar candy in a pocket in my blouse one time, but when I got them back from her it was totally fine. The shirt was clean, too.”

“So can you talk to him?” asked Brin.

“Sure. I bet I can convince him, as long as I don’t mention Tawna or Balbi or you.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Uh… I really need to keep moving.” Luiza zipped forward, and Brin let her go. As long as she’d talk to Kevim, that would be enough.

He walked by Perris’ shop next, but found the door locked. He heard banging coming from inside, so he peered in the window. Perris was at his counter, but he’d set it up as a work table. He was striking a pile of leather with a wooden mallet. The leather didn’t look the right shape for a person. Brin had to watch for a few minutes before he understood. It was the right shape for a bull, or a dog. Poco, Ferir and Lup were some of their strongest fighters now, but they needed armor, and Perris was the best person to make it, especially now that the town didn’t have a [Smith]. Ademir might be able to help with armor, but something told Brin that Ademir was already busy.

He went to Ademir’s shop next. The door was locked there, too, but when he knocked and called out, Ademir opened the door for him.

Ademsi 2000 lay sprawled out on a table. He was riddled with scars. The wood was splintered in places, and the perfect artwork of his massive frame had been vandalized with rents and gashed. He’d seemed so indomitable during the battle that it was hard for Brin to believe what he was seeing. If Ademsi were a person, he might already be dead. No, he would be dead, judging by the deep gash in the back of his head.

“H-how are you feeling Ademsi 2000?” he asked.

“I feel grand,” the wooden man said with a smile. “Today was a triumph!”

Ademir scowled. “You could’ve died.”

“I saw no foes there that could truly test me. I stalked through them like a wolf among sheep, and there were none to interfere,” said Ademsi. Brin couldn’t help but smile at the matter-of-fact tone. Ademsi wasn’t intentionally bragging, he was stating the absolute truth.

“How are the repairs coming?”

Ademir set down a chisel and hammer he’d been working with and sighed. “He’s in no condition to be walking around like this, and I don’t think I’ll have him ready to go by morning, not at this rate. It would be one thing if I could have a [Woodsman] regrow his broken pieces, the way you would if you needed to fix a fence, but there’s no one I trust enough to bring in just yet. Carving out new pieces to replace them would take too long, especially if I want to do them up special and strong like the ones he has now. Patching them is an option, but my levels in [Tinker] just aren’t enough to do this as fast as I’d like. I might have to use cement or glue at this point, but those come with their own problems.”

“What about glass?” asked Brin.

“I got some cooking just in case I decide to go that way, but it’ll burn him when I apply it. I could make the pieces ahead of time and then cool them down, but that’ll take too long.”

“Let me try.”

Ademir nodded slowly, and Brin noticed the dark bags under Ademir’s eyes. He must’ve been pulling late nights lately.

Brin scooped up some of the glass he’d been working with. Broken bottles, odd shapes, failed experiments and the like. He brought it over to Ademsi and began to work.

He didn’t overload [Shape Glass] this time like he had on the battlefield. That was fine for emergencies, but if he went slower it saved a lot of mana. He used a chip from a broken bottle, and lay it over one of the smaller cuts on Ademsi’s arm.

Slowly, gently, he pushed mana into the glass, willing it to melt. Without growing any hotter, it started to trickle down into the cut, filling it up. Then he separated it along the surface and pulled off the excess. Running a finger along Ademsi’s arm, it felt perfectly smooth.

The whole process had taken about five minutes, but barely used any mana at all. This could work. He could use glass to bind the splintered and severed wood in place, without removing the magic of any enchantments that Ademir had put in place.

When he was done, Ademir had Ademsi stand up and flex the broken arm. The glass held, regardless of how quickly Ademsi twisted and turned. It looked kind of neat, somehow giving a small degree of realism to the overly-perfect puppet man.

Brin went to the biggest injury next, the one of the back of the head. Ademir helped by squeezing Ademsi’s head so that there was only a tiny line for Brin to pour his glass into. Slowly but surely, Brin moved his glass to fill it in and bind it together. When he was done, Ademir was reluctant to move his hands away, not really believing it was really stuck, but Brin’s glass wasn’t like glue. When he stopped putting his magic into it, it was done moving.

He went from injury to injury, filling them in with glass. The only ones he didn’t get were the ones along the joints, or those touching the internal clockwork. One hammer blow to the elbow had broken it straight open, revealing an intensely complex array of gears and mechanical joints. Brin shuddered at the sheer genius it would take to create an entire person out of machinery like that.

He’d sort of had the idea that Ademsi’s movement and fluidity could all be explained by the magic from the familiar bond, but obviously there was more to it. If he had to guess, the puppet would’ve been able to move just as well without it. All Ademir had been missing was the sentience to direct it.

“My mana is fine. I can keep going,” Brin said as they were wrapping up.

“No, I don’t want him to lose any mobility. I’ll finish these last sections off by myself,” said Ademir.

“Do you think he’ll be ready to fight tomorrow?”

“Truth be told, I’d like another day, but I don’t think we’ll have that luxury,” said Ademir.

“I don’t think we will. Today went well, but the familiars are hurt and tired, Odilon’s dogs are all but gone, and now Tawna ran away. One way or another, tomorrow is going to be a difficult day.”

“It surely will be,” Ademir agreed.

“Oh, one last thing. If Ademsi is out there, will you be safe in here? What if something tries to sneak in?”

To his surprise, Ademsi barked out a monotone, mechanical laugh. “Father is not unprotected here.”

“But–”

“We will leave it there. Thank you for your assistance, Brin the Mistaken.” Ademsi’s tone brooked no argument.

When Brin left the shop, it was already dark. He knew he should head home and get some sleep, but he had one last stop on his mind.

Tawna’s warning about losing someone who cared for him had been replaying nonstop in his mind. There had to be something he could do about it, right? Hogg had said that the [Weaver’s] soothsaying wasn’t foolproof, that she was just seeing possibilities. Why had she said someone would “certainly” die, when she had to know that nothing to do with fate was certain? Unless she planned on killing someone? He could try to unravel Tawna’s snarled, knotted up mind all he wanted and he’d never come any closer to untangling it.

Besides, it didn’t matter. If she thought someone who cared for him would die, then the people that cared for him needed to be warned. He headed towards the Pimental’s house next. Of all people, Bruna would understand the warning, and she’d be in the best position to do something about it.

On his way, he saw Davi moving the other way. He raised a hand to call out to his friend, but then let it drop. Davi’s shoulders were hunched, his eyes darted every which way, and he kept turning his head around to see if anyone was following. When he noticed Brin coming, he immediately stepped over to lean against a house and look down so that his wide-brimmed hat would block his face. As if his huge frame or the lute in his hands wouldn’t give him away. Davi obviously didn’t want Brin to know what he was doing, and he definitely didn’t want him to follow him.

Brin had no choice but to follow him.

It was a little nostalgic, honestly, but at least Davi was a little better at acting casual. After Brin pretended to continue on his way and then ducked behind a corner to watch, Davi waited a full minute before moving on his way again. He didn’t fix his guilty-looking posture, but he played something on his lute that felt like don’t look at me, don’t notice me, I’m not here, I’m not important.

He went down side-alleys and doubled back a couple times, but eventually they got to the destination. Brin had thought they were going to a watchtower and might have lost him if he wasn’t careful to keep Davi in his sight. Instead, they arrived at a bare patch of wall, out of sight of any watchtowers. That made sense, since the watchtowers would have [Hunters] on them day and night.

He half expected to see Zilly when he turned the corner. Instead, he saw Davi hastily throwing on a black cloak, and he saw wooden stakes had been driven into the wooden wall. Handholds, for scaling the walls.

“And what are you up to, I wonder,” said Brin.

Davi jumped a foot in the air at the sound of his voice, but when he turned around he adjusted his hair and tried to act casual again.

“I don’t know what you–”

“Spare me. You’re the most unsubtle person I know. You’re planning on going over the wall. Why? If this is some harebrained scheme to get more levels–”

“It’s not about levels,” Davi said softly. He idly strummed a chord.

“Without the lute, if you please,” said Brin.

Davi flinched. “It’s not about levels. It’s about Myra.”

Brin shook his head. “No. No, you’re not going after her. I won’t let you. I’d prefer you walked away, but I’ll yell and alert the watch if I have to.”

“If you do that… look, Zilly is already out there. She went on ahead to check if this would even work. And it does! The undead didn’t notice her at all. But if you call the watch and start a fuss, the undead will swarm around here, too. You’d be as good as killing her.”

“That cloak. It’s enchanted against heat vision?”

“Yeah, and Zilly has something similar. After Myra made a set for you, Zilly found out about it and wanted a pair. Only, she asked in the typical Zilly way so Myra dug in her heels and refused. We didn’t even know she’d made them after all until tonight when we searched their hut after they were gone.”

“Ok, but that doesn’t explain why you even think Tawna needs your help.”

“We don’t have a lot of time!” Davi glanced at the line of stakes on the wall, as if contemplating just climbing over. He sighed. “Her plan failed. Even [Weavers] can fail, you know. Something happened, and Tawna had to bury Myra underground and then run to lead the enemies away. She’s trapped.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Marksi followed them in secret.”

Brin shook his head. “Marksi told you all this? How?”

Davi grunted in irritation, then whirled towards the wall. “If you’re going to yell, then yell. I’m going to go find Myra.” He climbed the scattered line of stakes easily, and then slipped over the top of the wall.

Brin didn’t exactly have much choice. If he alerted the town, then the undead really would converge over here. Zilly’s [Rogue] might be able to stay hidden, but she had focused on combat rather than stealth, and he didn’t like Davi’s chances at all, not if the undead were on alert.

He climbed over the wall after him. The field between the forest and the town was empty, but this would still be the most dangerous part. There was nowhere to hide, and the light of the stars made the area seem as bright as noon day. He knew that was just his darkvision playing tricks on him, and besides, without a heat signature it should be very difficult for the undead to spot him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed. Still, there was nothing for it. He ran across the field.

All his workouts had paid off, and by the time he crossed the long, open stretch of land, he wasn’t even winded, and he was glad to see that Davi was doing fine as well. Even heavy breathing was too much of a risk, since there was nothing wrong with the undead’s ears. Well, there was nothing wrong with their hearing.

A short walk into the forest, he heard Zilly whisper. “I can’t believe you brought Brin again.”

He spotted her then, in the shadow of a tree, dressed all in black. Marksi stood on her shoulders, his long tail wrapping around her tightly. He flinched when Brin turned around the corner but didn’t flee. That was a start.

“Hey Marksi,” said Brin.

Marksi let out a sad cheep.

“I get it. It’ll be over soon,” Brin said quietly.

“No talking. Let’s go,” Zilly hissed, and then led the way.

They crept through the forest, doing their best to stay absolutely silent. Zilly moved ahead, using her [Perception]-enhanced senses to stay away from any undead patrols. They often turned to the left or right with no explanation, and once they even doubled back for a few minutes before heading forward again. She also seemed to be listening to Marksi, who would tap her back with his tail to indicate the direction they would be moving.

Brin had a hunch of where they were going. Tawna had given him that one for free. They’d be near the snake pond.

One part of him wanted to stop and insist that they turn around and go back to town. Myra really didn’t need help. The only reason he didn't was because he knew it would fail. There was no way Davi would turn aside from rescuing the girl he liked. Teenage hormones were an absolute law of the universe.

Were they throwing a wrench in Tawna’s plans by doing this? Did he care if they did? Tawna’s plans were Tawna’s plans; they didn’t always benefit the people around her. At the same time, they did always benefit Myra, and he didn’t want to put her in danger.

Davi wouldn’t want to put Myra in danger either, and this “rescue” might actually be putting her more at risk. That was an argument he’d probably be able to make, if he was willing to talk at all. Here in a zombie-infested forest, they couldn’t dare to make any extra sound.

These dumb kids really had him in checkmate. There was nothing left to do but follow along and keep them from getting themselves killed.

Brin heard a click from a forest. Not a snap, not the tap of a tree branch against the trunk in the wind. A click. Then another, until a small chorus of clicks came from all around them.

“Damn. Let’s run,” said Zilly.

She darted forward into the night, and Brin followed. Even at this speed, Zilly was silent, but Davi’s feet started to thud against the ground, and Brin had to admit his steps weren’t perfect either. He used [Call Sound through Glass] to project a sphere of silence around his feet, but Davi wasn’t carrying glass around, and Brin hadn’t figured out the trick of moving his summoned sound away from the glass source yet. He ran closer to Davi, and then widened the silence field until it covered Davi’s feet, too. He made sure to keep their ears clear, though.

For a few minutes, they ran in silence, and Brin began to think they’d outrun whatever had been making the clicking sound.

Suddenly, Zilly stopped. She unsheathed her sword, so Brin brought out his spear. Ahead of them, an undead soldier stepped into view. He made a clicking sound, and another three walked from behind the trees.

He’d never heard the undead shout orders, he realized, but he knew they had to communicate with each other. Apparently, they clicked.

And the clicking wasn’t stopping. More were on their way.

“We’ll have to break through,” said Zilly.

“Wait,” said Brin.

An undead in resplendent armor stepped in front of the soldiers. He hefted a blacksteel warhammer on his shoulder, heavy and crude and completely at odds with his Bog Standard plate.

“Hi Simao,” said Brin.

The undead Simao made an apologetic smirk. He was so recently deceased that he barely looked dead at all, more just pale and sick. “Sorry about this. But you know, being dead isn’t as bad as you probably think. You’ll find out soon.”