The Blood of Angry Men

Some of the characters and the setting are taken from a forum RP I "dm'd" for lack of a better term. There should be sufficient context in the story that you don't have to (but are certainly free to) read that thread. The setting, Gradzlata, is a small duchy nestled between two greater powers. It is a port and a center for international intrigue. The tone of this is a good bit different then my first story so the prose is a little less florid. Enjoy!

The brush of soft fingers along her back lulled and excited her all at once. The gentle caress of skilled hands slipped her into a state of restfulness she never achieved naturally, but somewhere in that semi-slumber her mind was keenly aware of each little movement, each tiny graze of fingers and warm hands along her back. The warmth of the touches mingled with the sunlight streaming in through the nearby open window.

Kasia opened her eyes to stare out that open window. Through it, from her angle on the bed, she could see the verdant splendor of the eastern rise of the Stulkin Vid mountains which the city below was nestled in. The past year the half-elf spent hobnobbing with the elite had made her accustomed to certain luxuries, and the clean air of the heights and the impressive view were ones she was loathe to surrender. She sighed, trying not to think about the price of those privileges.

Instead, she thought about being touched, the simplicity of it. The quiet non-sexual intimacy of the massage. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the warm sun and warmer hands sink into her. "You're a wizard"

"No, silly. Just someone who knows what she's doing" Marta retorted, keeping her hands moving still, pausing at the long, ragged scar that followed the line of Kasia's scapula. She worked her thumbs against it, then placed her palms on either side of Kasia's spine, pressing in and up against the little half-elf's back, freeing some of the tension stored there.

"True. I dated a wizard. He never knew what the fuck he was doing." Kasia grinned her too-wide grin, then rested her freckled head on equally freckled arms, her curly, unnaturally red hair spilling over pillow, up out of the way of the girl's hands working her back. The hair was a product of her mixed parentage, along with her strange emerald eyes. "I appreciate you coming up here. I know you're losing a half a day's pay." She felt Marta's shrug in the altered pressure of the hands on her back.

"A half day's pay for what, sucking small cocks and pretending they are too big for my mouth? Listening to some merchant complain about the increased price of barrels and how it is sure to bankrupt him while I ride him? Please. Besides your employer has a good view of the city. It" there was a pause "Being up here makes me aspirational."

That was the problem, Kasia thought. The view of Gradzlata from the heights made it feel like anything was possible. That the world was pretty and clean and easy. She grunted as Marta's hands got a little firmer. Not rough, but digging into the band of tension at the small of her back, just above her pert cheeks. She shifted subtly and Marta shifted with her.

"I could do more than rub your back. You know. I mean. You surely don't want for admirers who would do this for you for free. If you're shy about more." Marta trailed off, a promise. "I mean, no charge."

"I know, Marta." Kasia sighed "But nothing in this world is free. Not even massage. A man or a woman who wants to rub your back will eventually want to touch your ass, and then have their hand between your legs and your mouth between theirs. That part's not so bad." She rolled over, looking up at the blond woman straddling her hips. Marta was comely enough, clear skin, long flaxen hair with a healthy sheen. Curvy in all the right ways, not quite plump just a pleasing softness to her. It would be easy to believe the lie of love in those blue eyes. But that's what a working girl did. A good one at least. She made you feel, if only for a moment, that you were worthy of her attention. That's what people paid for. "but eventually, so they don't feel like they're using you, they want your heart. My heart's for nobody. It's rotten." Kasia grinned her gremlin grin, too wide mouth showing teeth too white and even to be anything but the result of magic. "I'm the worst."

Marta laid a gentle hand on Kasia's chest, between her small breasts "That's where you're wrong, Kas. Some day, I'll tell you how I know. But for now, you paid for a massage and ONLY a massage so a massage is what you'll get. I'll stroke your ego while contradicting your self-deprecation sometimes when you're paying for that."

Kasia perked a brow, trying to remember when she and the pretty working girl had crossed paths in a way that would justify such a sentiment. She came up with nothing, and shrugged, rolling back over. She felt the other woman settle against her ass and the pressure of her hands again. This time it was enough to lull her into sleep.

*****

Kasia woke alone, feeling the chill that had crept into the spring air. At this elevation, the temperature swung wildly once the direct sun was gone. She rose and threw on an emerald green tunic and gray leggings, then went to the window to shudder it against the chill. Pausing, she looked out over the city below. Gradzlata, nestled between two forks of the Stulkin Vid mountain range, was cast half in shadow. It stretched along the river from the shore to the south to the foreboding sole mountain at its north edge. The Demonska Planina. The mountain the gods threw down to seal away some danger, or punish the sinful people of the Bright Empire of the Homines that populated the ruined city of Citta De Mare, or the work of the devils that populated the hells depending on who you asked. Regardless of its origins it was home to the impressive ducal fortress of Kazimir, sovereign of the Grand Duchy. She regarded the foreboding fortifications a moment, then sealed the windows and headed into the hallway.

"Master Simic would see you, Miss Kasia"

"I guess lunch will have to wait." Kasia sighed as the butler led her from the servant's quarters where she was ensconced into the main house.

"It is nearly supper, Miss Kasia, lunch is well past." The butler's tone betrayed his disgust with indolence and her perceived privileges. Never mind she'd probably find herself working till dawn.

"Noted, Pavel." She breezed past him into the study to find Jozep Simic, her employer and scourge of her existence, seated behind his ebony desk. He was severe, not quite gaunt but not a man who indulged himself to be sure. His prematurely gray hair dropped lank in a fringe around his balding pate and his dark eyes stared across a hawklike nose to a set of papers on his desk. Though in his early fifties she'd have guessed him to be older than sixty by look alone.

She sat quietly, knowing it was expected, until he deigned lift his head "Quiet as ever, Kasia." He stood and moved to a nearby crystal decanter, pouring himself some water. He offered her none, which was out of the ordinary. He paused, preoccupied. Finally, he drank and sat, regarding her.

"That's why you pay me. Right?" She slouched in a chair waiting on a disapproving look from Simic that never materialized. Self-conscious, she straightened "and you wanted something."

He nodded, clearing his throat "I find myself in need of quick cash." He sipped at his water and set his glass down "Kazimir is willing to sell my son a peerage. Not Andrej. My heir. Maciej." Simic's elder son had been written out of the inheritance and was pursuing life as a mercenary. He tapped his fingers against the glass "It's a staggering price but it is the culmination of my life's work. A Simic will finally be landed nobility. As you know, most of my money is tied up in the vineyards and my grain futures." Simic had made a killing off of the drought in Sewochan, having accurately predicted it. While others had followed in his wake, he'd purchased the rights to grain harvests well into the future from the Ludowy and Volk alike. Wealth had come for many, but not nearly so much as had come for Simic.

"I'm afraid I can't do better than a forty sixty split if you're asking me to rob your neighbors" She grinned across the desk at him, leaning forward "I mean I'm taking all the risk there."

Rolling his eyes he steepled his fingers. "Karolina will be negotiating the sale of some of my grain contracts." Simic's second wife had proven to be a shrewd negotiator. It was unsurprising he would send her on such an errand. "You will attend as her bodyguard and you will keep an eye out for those who might wish to know my business. I want to know who asks too many questions. I want to know who does not belong at the table and is brought anyway."

Kasia nodded "If you're genuinely concerned for her safety isn't Longinus a better choice?" Marius Longinus was the enigmatic City-Elf swordsman Simic used when violence was called for.

The old man shook his head "He wouldn't know what to look for Kasia. Every tool to its purpose. I do not prune vines with a scythe, nor would I harvest grain with shears. She will be visiting Gerhard Goldschmidt this evening. You're to attend."

He resumed looking at his papers in that way that let her know she was dismissed and the conversation over, and so she made her way out for something to eat.

*****

Nikolaj bent over his seafood stew, finally cool enough to eat. He dipped a roll into the broth, taking a bite of it before spooning a bit of crab into his mouth. To his left, Lazar and Jadranko watched Kazimir's men evicting the tenants from a set of townhouses that were to be cleared for the duke's new university. Over the last few months, the decision had been finalized to bring the school within the walled city. Many preferred disturbing the farmland to the north, along the river. Kazimir's witch, however, had her sights on land just inside the wall on the north edge of the city. The neighborhood was working class, on the verge of middle class. One of the few affordable places that was safe and clean. Now it was being torn down for blocks on either side of the river. No doubt the value of the remaining real estate would skyrocket, pricing out the families that had lived there for generations.

Looking over, he could feel Lazar seething. "This is exactly the kind of injustice we should be fighting." The young man's face was a mask of barely suppressed rage "My father alone could have forced Kazimir to move the campus north along the river. He could have displaced a single farm instead of a hundred families. The three of our fathers together." He trailed off, inarticulate in his fury "The three together could demand the freedom of the city entire. The city is ninety percent of the wealth of the duchy, the feudal lords should bow to us, not the other way around!" he slammed his fist on the table, disturbing Nikolaj's soup.

Jadranko grinned, "As Orestos of Kamagnos said, 'man conquers the world by conquering himself' Master yourself young Lazar, and surely you will triumph over the hated Duke Kazimir."

"If Orestos of Kamagnos said eating a spoonful of camel shit every morning led to a life well lived you'd eat a shovel."

"Nonsense. For as the great man said..."

Whatever the great man said, it was interrupted by the splash of a flagon of wine flung by the younger man into his companion's face. Nikolaj sighed "If you really want to do something Lazar then hold your tongue and come to the meeting with Jadranko and me." He handed a napkin to the dripping man "Jad, stop tormenting Lazar. We need him." He offered a smile to the tempestuous younger man. "We all need to be as one for this."

A few moments later, the bill paid, the trio made their way into the back of the tavern and down a set of steps into the basement. There, playing cards, were a quintet of other sons of wealthy merchants. Shipping and shipbuilding mostly, though his own family was heavily involved in the olive business. They owned a series of islands close to Kesh, with vast plantations of citrus and olive trees. Though landed, they were not aristocracy. That was, at the end of the day, the heart of the problem. Money and power but no status. Commoners.

Seating himself in the corner, he was able to keep an eye on the steps. A few minutes later, right on schedule came Rasul. The impossibly good-looking Keshvian exile always had girls with him, even on days like today. A bevy of attractive women of marriage age but with even less station than Niko and his friends. Still, it made Rasul even more popular than his money. Today a gaggle of blonds made their way down the steps with Rasul, listening to some far-fetched tale that would no doubt be spun into part of his ever shifting reason for exile.

A flash of dark interrupted the blond landscape. Tight black curls barely kept in place by a loose kerchief. Serious dark eyes in a serious face. Niko realized after a long moment he was holding his breath. He made himself look away from the olive-skinned girl. Despite her presence in Rasul's retinue, her men's breaches and her linen laborer's shirt there was something... but Keshvians were as a rule a conservative lot and their grip on their womenfolk was legendary. Fooling himself into thinking there could be anything down that road was worse than the fantasy that brought him here in the first place.

Niko made his way through the crowded room, pulling Lazar and Jadranko with him. "Rasul" he smiled "these are my friends..." before he could finish, the Keshvian interjected.

"Jadranko Temec and Lazar Cacic." Rasul extended a hand "It is good to meet other men dedicated to the cause of freedom. A friend of Niko's is a friend of mine." Niko barely registered two of Rasul's group peel off to stand with his friends, drawing them into conversation and away from Niko and the Keshvian.

Niko looked again to the dark-haired beauty who had arrived with Rasul, but only briefly as the Keshvian steered him towards a corner. Niko returned his gaze to Rasul "Jad and Lazar are good for maybe ten apiece. If we wait till after the dividends return from this fall's harvest maybe fifteen."

"The men I want to use are contracted in Sewochan until then anyway." Rasul kept his voice low, conspiratorial. "Are they all dedicated? It's a fine thing to make speeches in bar basements to impress your friends. It is another to put your money and your neck in the noose. If we are to do this thing, we will need men of character. Men with steel in their spines. This is no longer a game for rich young boys to play. This is a cleansing fire. A change in how all of society functions."

Niko nodded "There's not been a republic since the Homines abandoned it for Empire. If there's to be one, it can only be here. The Volk and Ludowy are too tied into the feudal classes for their soldiers. The Keshvian Beys and Mullahs are drawn from the same families. The king of the Sewochi is said to be semi-divine. No. Here in Gradzlata the only thing more powerful than the Duke is coin. This is where we make our stand."

Rasul nodded "There's another path..." whatever he intended was swiftly cut off when Niko's attention wandered again. "Hey." The Keshvian grabbed Niko's arm with a bit of force "That is my cousin, not some revolutionary groupie to be ogled in exchange for your loyalty. Eyes on me."

Niko started. He'd never seen the Keshvian in any state other than smooth and in control. The tightly coiled anger on his friend's face was visible, if only for a moment. "Sorry."

"It's fine." The near-omnipresent smile was plastered on Rasul's features again. "You didn't know. Now you know. Come by tonight. We can discuss timing a little more and I can lend you my copy of The Lectures of Quintus Aurelius. I know you've been wanting to read it."

"Y... yes. Yes I'd love to see it." With that he joined the others in discussion, empty debates about the shape of the coming legislature, and whether there should be some sort of declaration of rights. The second idea was quite popular, and of course led to fisticuffs over what belonged in it. All the while Niko's attention drifted to the serious girl from Kesh in the corner, ignoring the fracas and lost in her book. He would definitely be visiting Rasul tonight. That was for sure.

*****

Kasia's gaze flicked from person to person at the Salon. A collection of the would-be powerful. Pretenders and the pretentious. Gadflys and hangers-on. She rolled her shoulders, feeling tight. The night was sure to be wasted, as had a few of the prior. There were no Temecs or Cacics. None of the Petrovics or Janics that made up the considerable shipping empires that were the lifeblood of the City. There were none of the Volk or Ludowy merchant class who had already purchased the bulk of Simic's contracts. Maybe a few of these middling merchants might band together and buy a contract or two, but ultimately this was going to be fruitless, and in being fruitless would need to be repeated if the last of the grain futures were to be sold.

She swallowed her annoyance with a glass of an excellent acidic and deeply purple vranac that she barely tasted. Something pricked at the edge of her consciousness, and she was further irritated that she could not identify the source of that danger sense. About to set it aside as nothing more than overactive imagination in an evening of unconscionable boredom, her eyes returned again and again to a bearded man hovering around some young bravo, barely into his majority. The boy was unremarkable. A peacock in cloth of gold loose breeches and a silk shirt. He had a crimson cape, the latest affectation among the rich. The rapier at his side had more decoration than was practical on a weapon that was for more than show. The bearded man was as plain as his charge was colorful. Dressed in muted grays, with what appeared to be an unremarkable service weapon, the kind of sword a soldier would wear. An enlisted officer, at least.

That wasn't notable in and of itself. Plenty of former soldiers found themselves quietly dispatching the violence that the well-heeled incited with loud words, or found themselves called upon to defend their master's purse when their charges were indulging in some vice in the poorer quarters. There was just a sense, a nagging feeling that she was missing something important about the man. It might be that he too was half-elven. He hid it well enough, with ears tucked into his voluminous hair. He had a cheap glamor on his eyes that a trained eye could spot, but his hair was an unnatural black, deep and shining in a way that human hair would not have been. The crow's feet around his eyes might be makeup, or he might be that old. Showing signs would put him somewhere north of one hundred.

The analysis reminded her she was, ostensibly, there to guard Karolina. She swallowed the last of her vranac and set the glass aside, moving through the crowd towards Mrs. Simic. She slid through the assembled throng easily, unnoticed, her dark livery with the Simic family crest on it marking her as part of the help. To notice her would be beneath most of these people, particularly since they had notions of their standing far in excess of their reality.

She found the tall blond Ludowy woman holding court among the more ambitious women in attendance. Mrs. Simic, in the absence of the great shipping magnates, represented the upper echelon of city wealth. She was never far from sycophants. She nodded at Kasia's approach and tapped her wine glass subtly with her ring finger, signaling the little Half-Elf to rescue her from her current conversation.

Kasia put her hand on Karolina's elbow and drew in, mumbling nonsense in the taller woman's ear, straining to do so. Karolina nodded in response and patted Kasia's hand "Of course. Of course." She gave a smile to the women surrounding her "My keeper has reminded me we are here to meet young Master Luka Bogdanovich over there on some business for my husband. A wife's work is never done." Karolina then placed her hand on Kasia's back at the small of it and steered her expertly towards the very pair she had been eyeing earlier. "Your arrival was well-timed, Kasia. Much obliged."

"Of course Mrs. Simic." Kasia liked the woman in spite of herself. Karolina had made a clumsy pass at her early in Kasia's employment that was either some test or ham-fisted attempt to garner an ally in the house. After the rejection, they'd settled into a mutual respect that served them both well enough. Karolina was as sharp as her husband, without being as vicious.

As the pair approached the peacock and his guard, the older man nodded and directed his master towards a set of stairs leading up into the rooms above. There, Kasia had found their host had laid out bread, water, cheese and figs. She poured herself some water and tasted it before allowing Karolina to do the same, then settled in against the wall, staring at the older man. Her gaze bore into him as if she could strip away his beard and reveal the man beneath. As if she could pierce the cheap glamor around his eyes.

She had no idea how long she'd been staring, but it must have been some time, Karolina and the boy were finishing their pleasantries about the coffee business, of which his family must be part. She struggled to remember. Her knowledge of the city families tended to the less well-heeled. She distracted herself with a bit of cheese, half listening to negotiations.

"And so you see, Mrs. Simic, I am looking for this season's contracts... not the remainder." The boy was toying with the cup in his hands "I'm wanting something of a sooner return on my money. It's been earmarked you see."

"Ah, but my husband can afford to wait till after harvest to pay the Duke. What we cannot wait for is next year. We have no incentive to sell this year's contracts. We have a timing issue, but not so substantial a timing issue that we can trade our certain profit."

The boy nodded and drummed his fingers on the table "I have twenty thousand I'm wanting to turn into twenty-five thousand before year's end myself." The pair regarded each other "How much is the Duke's price, anyway?"

"Half a million."

Kasia choked on her cheese. Half a million gold sovereigns wasn't a lifetime's wages for the ordinary man in Gradzlata. It was fifty lifetimes. Even the relatively small amount this boy was casually mentioning he had available was more money than most people would see, and he was looking for a return by year's end equal to her crippling debt to Jozep Simic.

The boy's eyes widened a bit "A ducal sum indeed." He shrugged "It is a shame I cannot help you. My own needs are immediate, and yours intermediate."

Karolina leaned in, giving the boy just a hint of her decolletage. She kept her cornflower blue eyes on his face "Oh I don't know, Master Bogdanovich" She straightened "A young man with connections like yours knows others who might be taking a longer view. We might help each other, don't you think?" She poured herself a water and sipped at it "I can, I think, see my way to getting you your 5,000 by the end of the year, as a commission for your able assistance in introducing me to the fathers of your famous friends."

Over the next few minutes, a final deal was wrangled. Kasia's wandering attention again fell on the older man, who was listening intently to the goings on of the elite that neither he nor she would ever be part of. It was that realization that led to the next. Everything about him was misdirection. The baggy clothes would hide a dancer's physique. The cheap glamour would hide that he'd once used an expensive one. The black in his hair and the beard would bear no resemblance to the platinum blond, clean-shaven center of past Salons who spent as much time bilking wealthy women of their fortunes as he did mumbling vaguely philosophical platitudes. He was the con man Trinthalas Evershalala.

"Well fuck."

*****

Niko made his way down to Rasul's address. Niko's father, being the wealthiest man in the duchy besides the Duke himself, owned a large mansion at the very top of the Eastern heights. Rasul, as it turned out, was staying with his uncle. A Keshvian expatriate who had supported the wrong side in some palace coup or another, and now made a living giving information to the western nations and selling arms. The house was, Niko supposed, rather grand compared to the townhouses below, and even in the neighborhoods in the rise, where the mountains began. It sat on a quarter acre, detached from its neighbors with a garden and trees for privacy. To the average city dweller it must seem a palace, but to Niko, whose father's compound contained a number of such houses built into the mountainside, it seemed quaint. His footman waited with the carriage on the street.

He made his way to the dark doorway of the house, knocking. At this hour the Keshvian's butler was absent, and Rasul himself came to the door. He ushered Niko from the cool spring evening into the warm recesses of the house. Though small by Niko's standards it was well-appointed. The foyer was tiled, an extravagance that could only be found here in the heights. A large curving staircase made its way up to the second floor and even in the lamplight, Niko could see the steps were polished to a mirror sheen.

Rasul drew him off to the side, to a small study. He sat at a desk, with two full bookshelves behind. The books themselves were an extravagance. He scanned the titles, finding most of the classics as well as a few modern philosophers. On the desk before Rasul was the Aurelius. He sat, reaching somewhat for the book before arching an eyebrow in an expression intended to ask for permission. Rasul grinned "of course. It is why you are here, after all."

Niko picked up the book and looked over Rasul, "you could have brought this earlier, so I suspect that's not the only reason I'm here."

The Keshvian sat back stroking his impressive mustache. He looked Niko over with his dark, soulful eyes, considering. "No. You're the smartest of them Niko. Can't get anything past you." Rasul moved to the window, pouring himself a coffee from the carafe. Rasul was a teetotaler, coffee being his only vice. He took it in the thick sweet fashion of his countrymen. Sitting again he sipped at the coffee with a content sigh "I am concerned about something."

Niko felt a tension building. An ache in his chest and a tightness of breath. He wondered for a long moment if Rasul were about to come at him over his cousin. His hand crept down towards the rapier at his side. Though his teachers had always said he lacked the ruthlessness necessary to be a great swordsman, he was one of the better duelists in his circle. If Rasul wanted to fight, he'd taste steel.

"Kazimir's witch." Rasul continued, seemingly oblivious to Niko's posture. "Kazimir's witch is an unknown quantity."

Niko felt the tension drain "Well not entirely unknown. We know she's at least 500 years old. Realistically older, given she was already an accomplished conjurer when Kazimir's line was founded and the dragon of the Demonska Planina was killed. We know she's the keeper of the Rod of Amon"

Rasul's smirk was patronizing to the point of infuriating. "And what does that mean, exactly? Has she honed her skills over the last 500 years or have they plateaued? What is the Rod of Amon? Nobody really knows do they?"

Niko sighed and nodded, forced to admit a certain ignorance. "She is an unknown quantity" he allowed. "So what does that mean for us? Is there some way to sideline her? Distract her?"

Rasul's lips shifted from smirk to smile "Now there's the Niko I need. The plotter. The planner. The man who sees the forest and the trees." Rasul sipped at his coffee. "I have a notion, but first I want to hear how you would mitigate the danger. We must avail ourselves of all possible routes."

Niko thought "well. The first step would be to make attacking us with large-scale magic unpalatable. We would have to seize a culturally important position, like the Temple of the Sea. Something Kazimir can't afford to damage. Or... surround ourselves with the citizenry. It can't just be rich young men and mercenaries. It has to be a genuine movement of the people, where using the witch against us will only increase the anger. The simmering resentment against the privilege and power of the feudal aristocracy."

"I've another plot. What do you know about the Kirici Cadi?"

Niko struggled a moment with his Keshvian "Witch killers?"

"Breaker of witches, yes. Assassins from Kesh. Expensive. For one to take on Livonia, it would be expensive. 50,000"

Niko laughed "If you think I have that kind of money laying around." He shook his head "I'd have to liquidate everything, and even then I'd come up short. I'd have to get it from my brothers and they'd ask why I want it. So the answer is no."

Rasul nodded "Well. Find some cash. Expand your list of friends. We need weapons to arm your ordinary men, and we need this assassin. Livonia Scipii is half the reason the great powers don't come here. Their own wizards are in terror of her. Some whisper she's a Lich."

"No. She's flesh and blood. I've been in her presence."

Rasul nodded though he seemed unconvinced, steering the conversation briefly to the book before ushering Nico out into the night. Around the corner of the house, Niko heard something. Conversation. Chanting? Something. He let his hand fall casually to the hilt of his blade and made his way around.

There, kneeling on a prayer mat was the dark-haired girl with Rasul earlier. Her face raised to the moon; she chanted a hymn he vaguely recognized from a festival the year before. He waited at a respectful distance, then approached as she gathered up her things.

"You know the world's largest temple of the moon is right on the other side of the mountain" he gestured, trying a little joke to break the ice. "They have pews and everything." He could tell right away that was a mistake. Her lips settled into something of a frown and her eyes rolled.

"We are not all so lucky, Nikolaj Petrovic, to have a guard and a carriage of our own. When my father or my cousin is available to escort me I certainly do avail myself of the temple. Bad things happen to a woman on the road at night by herself though. Something the son of the wealthiest man in Gradzlata surely knows nothing about. You have only to fear for your purse or your life, both of which are cheap. A woman has concerns that you will never know."

Niko blanched. She'd properly called him out and worse, he should have thought of all of that. Worship of the moon necessarily took place at night. A woman faced terrors from men who prowled the night he did not. That was true. He sketched a bow "Apologies. I thought to be amusing and well... Clearly, I'm only funny when the men around me are drinking on my tab. In my defense, however, I do think my life is more precious than rubies. Maybe not to anyone else! But to me" He laughed, short and self-deprecating. That earned him the smile he'd hoped for, salvaging the encounter at least somewhat.

"What's the book?" She moved closer, to where she could see it in the moonlight "Aurelius? You Westerners." She rolled her eyes "You live under the yolk of the Homines for a thousand years, and when you finally throw them off all you do is play pretend Homines. Just be what you are. Who the fuck cares about what some long-dead patrician thought about anything? And that's exactly who has his thoughts written down. I guess" She smirked "That's exactly why you care. You can just imagine yourself being named Primus and wearing some god-awful toga and watching a bunch of servants turn your olives into olive oil or whatever while you think great thoughts."

"Oh? Is there anything I do that pleases you?"

"You're pretty enough. For a man." She grinned "So you know, you at least have that going for you if being the son of an oligarch doesn't work out."

The comment buoyed his spirits in a way it usually didn't. He knew, objectively, he was attractive. His mother was a great beauty as was common of second wives, and he favored her. Coming from this girl though, with her challenging attitude and her seeming disdain for his wealth and privilege it felt somehow earned. "Well perhaps I'll just sit in your garden for you to stare at while you think new radical thoughts and disdain the entirety of Western thought and philosophical history."

Her grin resumed its status as a smirk "I think my cousin might have thoughts about that."

"He will come around. I'll just dazzle him with my beauty." Her smile was worth the humiliations of the conversation, and knowing he should end on a high note he bowed "A good night to you.." He trailed off hoping she'd give her name.

"Miriam. A pleasure, Master Petrovic."

Nodding, he turned and made his way out lest he say something stupid, the tome under his arm nearly forgotten as he replayed the conversation in his head.

*****

Kasia made her way through the gloom, heading from the inconspicuous basement of a cheap tavern, towards the lair of Kemal. The Keshvian eunuch knew close to everything that transpired in the city, and while he was not cheap Simic's pockets were nearly endless. Or so she'd thought prior to his sudden need for money. Still, he'd assured her there was enough to pay for the secrets sought.

The Keshvian's lair in the catacombs was as she recalled it, dimly lit by candles, scribes in every corner taking down the reports of beggars, urchins, debtors and the desperate, all here to trade information for Kemal's yellow gold. She had considered selling the news of Simic's recent financial distress to the eunuch. Perhaps she'd have enough to buy her freedom... but Simic would know what information gained such wealth. She had a vision of the arrival of Marius Longinus in her apartment and shuddered. No, some secrets were too dangerous to sell.

A blond woman ushered her into the back to see Kemal directly. The information broker was rarely one you could drop in on, and so he must have been anticipating her arrival. That alone was troubling. Or not. The motives and methods of Kemal were as ineffable as any deity's. She found the corpulent eunuch seated, as ever, on his throne-like chair surrounded by scrolls and books compiling the secrets of the City. He smiled, wiping the grease of a chicken he was devouring from his fingers. He produced a silver bowl full of oranges, offering one "For me, dearest Kasia, nothing heralds the arrival of spring like an orange."

Despite herself, she took the fruit, holding it and inhaling the faint citrus scent of the rind. She was transported, suddenly twelve again, huddled in the cold night with a few other urchins, being handed an orange by the kindly washerwoman who lived near the house she was squatting in. For the poor of Gradzlata, an orange could be an extravagance. For her, that night, it was the first kindness in a long time. 'nothing heralds the arrival of spring, like an orange.' The very words the eunuch used had come originally from the lips of the woman who had provided that rare and treasured kindness. She marvelled at how the Keshvian knew about it, then decided she didn't want to know.

She looked up to see a rare expression of sympathy on Kemal's face. "Dear little Kasia, you know how fond I am of you." Kemal leaned forward "If I still had my cock I'd cut your hair short and pretend you were a beautiful boy. You know that I fish in every lake and pond from Montverde to Chiang, but there are some catches too dangerous to sell."

That last piqued her interest. Trinthalas identity was one that would endanger Kemal if he outed him directly. She was about to speak when he continued "So I will, if you wish, for free, tell you where you can find the woman who gave you that orange, so many decades before."

The lure of forbidden knowledge warred with the tantalizing tug of the small bit of sentiment she felt herself capable of. Wistful and nostalgic she almost took the eunuch up on his offer. "and what is my alternative?"

"I will help you puzzle through something. That will cost Mr. Simic, however. I will debit his account, no need for my pretty little Kasia to reach for her purse." The eunuch straightened, looking her over. She regarded him at the same time, rich silks spotted with grease, the king of squalor, sitting in the dark of his cave, at once rich beyond measure and somehow sad. Isolated. Perhaps he genuinely wished her to find that woman from so long ago. Still, she wasn't here for herself.

"Well then, wise Kemal, help me puzzle it out."

The fat eunuch sat back, smug "well, little Kasia. When you were running that scam saying you were an elf nobleman's daughter, did you say you were raised in far Tir Caernwyr? Or did you say you were born in squalor here on the dirty streets of Gradzlata?"

She shrugged "Here. Of course. I could never fake knowledge of faraway places, and my Elvish is so badly accented nobody would believe for a moment I grew up there."

"Exactly. You must tell a great deal of truth with your lies. There's too much to keep track of otherwise."

"so... you're saying that to find out who this man is I should... believe him?"

"That would be the start. Now, run along. I've helped you too much for my liking as it is."

*****

Niko made his way out to the pavilion at Jad's family estate. The wealthy and powerful were gathered for Jad's father's solstice party, as they were every year. He scanned the crowd, looking for his friends and more importantly for Miriam. Over the last months, they'd stolen moments to trade barbs and books, each moment they'd wrested for themselves more precious by far than his dreams of revolution. He felt a pang there, like he'd betrayed himself and his friends alike but it wasn't as if he was abandoning revolution. He just had something to fight for now beyond principles.

At the edge of the crowd, he found Jad entertaining some children by using a simple spell to make a light that cats were chasing. In the midst of the performance he set the light on Lazar's chest and the cats attacked. He was about to tear the two men off each other as they pummeled one another in the dust when he caught sight of her. Smiling, whirling as she danced with her friends, happy and free, wreathed in the last light of the sun streaming down on what seemed like her alone. His fighting friends forgotten he approached, stopping at a respectful distance when he caught sight of her parents.

For her part, she waved him closer, smile brighter than the lingering light of the summer sun. He felt his heart skip a beat, and moved in with her. "Are you not afraid of what Rasul will say?"

"My parents are here, we're in public." She stopped her dancing to look up at him "and while I could not give a fuck about it, my father will be very impressed by your family. I think we can safely be seen to enjoy each other's company for a moment."

"Oh so you do actually enjoy it?" he laughed, tossing another sarcastically self-deprecating question because he was terrified if he changed a single thing about their normal course of conversation he would disrupt the spell, he'd find himself alone and wondering what happened.

He felt her arm slide through his, her tone soft as she spoke "I would hope that you know that I do, Nikolaj." She never used his full name, and hearing it from her lips somehow added to the seriousness of the moment.

"Good, because I enjoy nothing else as much as yours." He placed his free hand over hers a moment, then they began walking towards a table with refreshments. Nearby, he spotted Luka Bogdanovich holding court with his assorted hangers-on. He liked Bogdanovich well enough, and the boy had democratized the movement, bringing in some of the middle class as well as a bevy of the nouveau-riche. Unfortunately, the boy had a flashiness about him that didn't always sit right with the old money of the heights. He was about to say hello when he felt Miriam stiffen at his side.

"Let's not." She started to tug him back towards her parents "A few years ago my parents were in negotiations to marry me off to him. His father intimated he had contacts in the Keshvian coffee growers that would facilitate our return home. To them I was just chattel."

"What happened? You didn't stab him did you?"

Her worried expression softened some "No. Rasul came and convinced my father that a Keshvian match would be better to secure such a thing."

As they turned to go, he heard Bogdanovich speak "Taking my leavings Petrovic?" The tone of the voice was on the surface jocular, but it held just a tinge of menace. Niko reached for his blade, but felt it trapped between him and Miriam.

"We were just discussing the role of women in this brave new world you've all imagined." His companion spoke up "Why don't you share your notions, Master Bogdanovich? I seem to remember you were quite content to be led by me during our brief courtship. Perhaps you favor a matriarchy."

The younger man colored and looked as if he'd say something, when Jad arrived, clapping his hands. He spread them, and a cloud of illusory butterflies erupted from his hands to fly into the angry face. Bogdanovich's ire suddenly turned towards the young mage "clown" he snarled, turning on his heel.

"Might be trouble from that one, Jad." Niko watched the young man walk away, surrounded by sycophants.

"Trouble for who? He's a two-bit coffee merchant's son with delusions of grandeur. What's he going to do? Roast me and serve me with a cube of sugar?"

Niko shook his head "Your inability to take anything seriously is going to do you in some day, Jad."

"Niko, I'm rich and a mage. Statistically speaking I'll live into my hundreds. Something's likely to get me, it might as well be my sense of humor. By then it won't be my cock getting me into trouble. At least I hope not."

Miriam's snort made him relax. "So what should the role of women be in this glorious new world anyway?" She asked, looking up at him, eyes appraising him.

"I don't know. Women in Gradzlata already can inherit property. I suppose an unmarried, landed woman should be allowed the vote at the very least."

"And you say my mouth will get me in trouble, Niko. Your woman will gut you for that."

"She's nobody's woman but her own, Jad." Niko did see a troubling expression, however, and elected to elaborate "We're not building a fantasy world. Some Utopia where everything will be as we want. We're building a real world on the back of the effort of real people, and that means not dictating my desire but meeting people where they are. Some change can be instituted swiftly in the roar of the gun, but some change takes generations to effect."

She nodded, though her expression was still dark. Whether that was from Bogdanovich or the current conversation was unclear "I must crawl so my daughters may walk? So be it." She shrugged "I should return to my mother."

Just like that, the warmth within him departed. He'd fucked up, in some fashion, clearly. He sighed, nodding, about to offer to walk her back when she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He froze a moment, it was the most affection they'd ever actually shared, and here, surrounded by the cream of the city society, it was a sign. A stake she'd planted. Just like that, despair fled and jubilation returned. He didn't even notice her leaving till he saw her standing with her parents.

"Gods above, Niko. You look like a boy who's never gotten his cock wet talking to his schoolboy crush. You've bedded dozens from dockside whores to bored wives. What's she got that none of them do?"

"She makes me want to be a better man."

"Well, hopefully I never meet her counterpart. I've little interest in being a better man. Now, let us get some of that wine Simic brought with him. His wife, now that's a woman that inspires. He must be eighty if he's a day. Perhaps she will be a young widow..."

*****

Kasia slipped through the shadowed streets of the Basin, emerald eyes darting hither and thither to make sure she wasn't observed. The solstice party in the Heights was the perfect opportunity for her to investigate young Bogdanovich's apartments that he kept in the basin away from prying eyes. It wasn't in the warren of ramshackle dwellings dockside, but it was carefully set in a working-class neighborhood nobody would expect to find the son of a wealthy house in. Something about his need for quick cash had been bothering her for the last month. He didn't show any of the signs of dissolution that might explain it. He was physically sound which ruled out the various alchemical drugs and elixirs that ensnared the idle rich. He wasn't poxed, nor did he seem to gamble. Whatever he needed the money for might be Simic's next opportunity. Or her own for that matter.

Solstice was the worst night for skulking, with the sun setting at the latest point of the year. Still, in the basin even at sunset the city was shrouded in shadow from the tall mountains that lined the valley. She slipped easily through the dim streets, unnoticed or so she believed. Reaching his door she found it locked, unsurprising. She knelt and after ascertaining nobody was watching, she set about picking it.

She waited a moment, listening after opening the door to make sure no animal was within that might alert the neighbors. The apartment was gloomier than the street, with the shudders closed despite the warm summer air. It was hot, stuffy even. She took out a small globe and spoke a word, releasing the magic within to shine with a dim light.

Her eyes cast about the small apartment. As she suspected, there was no bed. This was no den of vice. A long table dominated the apartment. She examined it, solid oak and well made, expensive but without advertising the cost. The chairs were similarly solidly constructed. Nice, but not the kind in fashion with the elite. She pondered the implications while she made her way over to a set of crates nearby. They were stocked with wine, and not just any wine. Better than Simic's even. Imported from the Volk at a pretty penny. She wondered if the boy was investing in the wine trade, boring but potentially worth something to Simic. She looked over a few cases of full bottles, then discovered even more were empty. Another chest held crystal. Wine was better out of glass than the tin or pewter mugs the poor drank from. The glass was slightly cloudy though, not normally the sort of thing a rich man would drink from. The entire room seemed designed to impress and yet, somehow not.

She frowned, trying to assimilate this information, and in her concentration barely heard the opening of the door. She whirled, drawing her daggers only to be confronted with Bogdanovich's guard. The Half-Elf had a crossbow leveled at her and spoke in a low growl "And why shouldn't I put this quarrel in you, poppet?"

Her muscles coiled, taut as the string on the bow. She held her breath, as if any movement would draw his fire. Hearth hammering in her chest she tried a desperate gambit. "Because you're not that kind of man, Alexi Zajec" She swallowed, half expecting to be skewered by the loaded quarrel. She saw the subtle dip of the weapon, a sign she hoped meant she'd been correct in her suppositions.

"And who has been bandying that name about? Hmmm?"

She cleared her throat, trying the truth as it'd worked out so far "Lives of the Dukes of Gradzlata, volume V, by Radko Arslanagic."

"That book is fifty years old." He regarded her with far less menace and far more curiousity. "I'm curious as how you came to such a conclusion off a single passage in an old book."

"Well it wasn't just the one. I had to cross reference it with 'An account of the Battle of the Sea of Odzerk by those who had been there' to be sure. Very dry for what's supposed to be the true account of a battle. Both books were adamant that the Duke of Gradzlata had been saved from drowning by a marine named Alexi Zajec, who was granted a small plot of land and then faded into obscurity. A Half-Elf by that name still owns that plot, outside of Brneca."

The man sat on the nearby table, crossbow still at the ready, though not pointed at her "and what led you to such dusty tomes? Don't tell me you were just reading them for pleasure. Even Simic's library has more interesting books."

She relaxed, confident she'd live through the encounter. "When you look like this, who you really are, you lie about your name and your deeds. An unassuming mercenary, a common thug. When you tart yourself up, hide your age and the true color of your hair... when you're seducing the women of the duchy you tell the truth about yourself. Or a truth. You saved Kasimir's grandfather. Except it wasn't his grandfather it was his great-grandfather." She took a leap, putting it all together. "Because you're a spy. Kazimir's spy."

She realized in the moment she'd been too clever by half as the weapon swung back towards her "And so it behooves me to end you for knowing that."

Her heart hammered in her chest and she calculated whether she could put a dagger in him before he pulled the trigger. He was older, and so maybe slower, but he'd lived over one hundred years as a spy and a killer so likely not. "Again, that's not who you are. I'm no threat. I serve Simic and Simic serves the crown."

"Does he? What does he need so much cash for? Do you know?"

"Do you not? He's buying a peerage for Maciej. I'd think that one of Kazimir's spies would know that much. He's breaking out of just being rich, he's joining the aristocracy. Well, his son is."

"His son is already a member of the aristocracy. Simic's wife is related to a noble family of the Ludowy with more pedigree than money. Simic's already purchased the title of Margrave of Zielona Rzeka for the boy. He's part of the Ludowy Sztraka. Simic himself is to be named Kazimir's Chancellor of the Exchequer when the current one retires. So why the sale? And why to foreigners?"

Her mind scrambled, trying to assemble the new information in a way that would keep her from being skewered by a crossbow bolt. "Because.... Because... Because the drought is ending. Think about it. Simic needs a reason to sell quickly that won't trigger a panicked sell off and ruin the investment. That means... it means the Sewo river will resume flooding. That's why he won't sell his contracts for this year's grain but will sell the futures."

Alexi lowered the crossbow "And why is it the river and not the rain?"

"Because the rain has never been that great of an influence. The rain is usually just enough to stave off utter starvation in years where the flood doesn't come. If the problem were the rain, the Sewochi wouldn't pay for grain, they'd pay for rain. They don't pay for rain because the river is on a cycle. They know the river is returning and so does Simic."

His weary nod of acknowledgment told her that she'd repeated his own opinion back to him, and that he wasn't entirely satisfied. "I've wasted months observing you. I just feel there's something here. Something missing. What are you doing down here?"

"Simic feels there's something going on as well. Bogdanovich needs money for something. For what? What's his game? You've been in his pocket all this time."

He stood and walked over to the bottles of wine, looking over the empty ones. "He has private business he won't take me on. At first I assumed it was some new project he didn't want to spoil. His father doesn't think much of his business sense. I'm not entirely sure that's not the case even now. Maybe the wine business?" He didn't sound convinced.

"What were you doing down here?" She asked, slouching against the wall "If you think it's a business venture."

"Trust but verify. The solstice celebration was the perfect opportunity."

"So he's not a bomb-throwing anarchist then?"

"No. We locked a few of them up over the winter, thanks to Trinthalas." He casually referred to his alter-ego as if it were another man. "All black sheep of their families. Those revolutionaries can't succeed without the great houses, and the great houses already have Kazimir's ear. Power without title, but power nonetheless. They won't gamble on revolution. They don't have to. It has to be something else."

"Yes because the masses surely could never overthrow a small coterie of landed nobility." Kasia deadpanned, watching for the man's reaction.

He waved his hand, dismissive "Why would they? Nothing ever changes for the poor. I think you and I both know that. Slaving for a feudal monarchy or an oligarch doesn't feel any different. It's still slavery in the end."

"A cynical take for the Duke's man." She shrugged and started for the door. He followed and they made their way into the street. There she saw a man pointing towards the apartment and made out the word "light" on his lips. She turned and grabbed Alexi/Trinthalas and tugged him against the wall "Kiss me. People will ignore us if they think we're fucking."

He obliged, toned body pressing her against the crumbling stucco of the nearby building. He was lean, stronger than he looked even. She inhaled, feeling the rush that accompanied the press of his body, the scent of him. She swallowed, reminding herself how much distaste she was supposed to have for him when she felt his hand in her hair, rough, tugging her in. His lips crushed to hers and the moan that the kiss elicited was genuine. It'd been months, and even though the kiss was a sham her body reacted as if it were genuine. She parted her legs subtly, and his knee obliged, sliding between, thigh pressing against her core.

The watchman made his way over "what's all this then?"

"Just tryin to make a few coppers, love" she growled at him, "piss off and leave a working girl working eh?"

The guard snarled and told them to move along "it's a nice neighborhood, take your poxed ass down to the docks where you belong, guttersnipe."

"You heard the man love." She grabbed Alexi's hand and tugged him along "See if he gets a free one."

The pair made their exit swiftly, not trusting the ruse to hold up to close scrutiny. In the short term, people saw what they wanted to see and the guard wanted to see nothing he had to care about. She wasn't about to give him a reason otherwise. The pair made their way dockside and then stopped, pausing at a stall to get some of the last of the day's meat on a piece of flatbread.

"Good thinking back there. Next time though I get to be the whore." He chuckled "I'll tell you what, if I see something worth sharing, I'll get a message to you."

"I mean, you are a copper." She grinned "so you sort of already are." His rolled eyes were sufficient payment for her stupid joke. She leaned against a fence, looking over the harbor as she ate. "And yeah, Simic would be most grateful if he were to hear anything before anyone except Kazimir."

An accord seemingly struck, they ate and watched the moon over the water in companionable silence, the only sound the gentle slap of water against the quays and the creaking of wooden ships. There, chewing on the nearly stale bread and the overdone meat from the street vendor, she ruminated on what she'd put together. There might be time enough for her to sell the information about the end of the drought, after Simic unloaded his futures. She could put a dent in or maybe eliminate her debt to Simic. She could be free.

*****

Sweat stung his eyes. The clear July sky offered no protection from the blazing heat of the summer sun as Niko sat, watching the slow destruction of an old warehouse along the river. He was part of a throng, gathered to watch or protest or cheer, depending on one's political inclinations. Mostly people from the neighborhood, watching the large building that housed a few essential shops for the area be reduced to rubble to make way for Kazimir's edifice to his ego. "the University of Gradzlata" which surely wouldn't benefit the working families pushed out to clear the way for its construction.

He spared a glance to his left, comforted by the presence of Miriam. The Keshvian didn't seem to mind the heat. She and Rasul seemed quite at home in the sweltering, stifling summer. Rasul was there as well, whispering in the ear of Bogdanovich who was increasingly part of the Keshvian's confidences. The young man had come into some money, and Rasul was eager to help part him from it in the name of the cause. At least that's what he claimed. Niko wasn't so sure. He'd come on them discussing something in low tones with some important members of the mason's guild. The guild was divided over the construction. On one hand, the masons working the job were paid and paid well. On the other, many of the skilled craftsmen in the city were being displaced in the name of progress. Bogdanovich had somehow tapped into that anger and brought some of them into the fold.

Niko grimaced, rolling his shoulders as he felt fresh sweat bead and roll down his back. Making matters worse, just across the street supervising the destruction was the witch. The obstacle to any move against Kazimir. He regarded her with what he hoped was cool detachment if such a thing were possible under the blazing sun.

Narrow hips, waifish. Boyish maybe. Small breasted and dressed in strange tight breeches and a ruffled shirt under a large black coat. He wondered how she wasn't melting. Instead, she seemed carved from a block of ice. Her skin was alabaster, flawless and white. Her platinum blond hair arranged in an artfully messy jumble of curls that seemed accidental in a way that could only be intentional. Her face so perfectly symmetrical that it was at once beautiful and unsettling. Like he was looking at a doll and not a flesh and blood person.

A shudder wracked his body, despite the heat of the day. All elves had a touch of the unreal about them but her inhuman perfection was at once awesome and dreadful. Lazar's voice broke through the reverie, through whatever hold she had on his attention.

"I just don't see how she can wear a big black coat in this weather."

"Well she's not as fat as you, you indolent bastard. Try running somewhere that's not a pastry shop."

"I ran to your sister's boudoir but she was already booked through the end of the month."

Niko watched Lazar and Jad trade barbs for a moment "no really though. You'd think she'd at least be a bit concerned... she's tearing down people's businesses. On a street like this you could hide a sniper" Niko mused, quietly though.

Jad stopped his verbal riposte and looked over "here. I'll show you what I see."

The tall mage reached over and pressed his fingers to Niko's temples, muttering softly. His brown eyes flashed a moment and then Niko looked him over. He saw spirals of some sort of light emanating from Jad's ring and a pouch at his side. The man himself glowed with a faint light. Niko assumed it must be whatever fueled magic. Of course it all could be Jad playing one of his insufferable pranks.

Still, he moved his gaze across the street. He had thought the sun to be bright but it was nothing compared to the blinding radiance. She didn't glow like Jad did. She blazed, white-hot power emanating out in all directions. He couldn't even look at her.

"Breathe" Jad's voice, low in his ear "and then focus on erasing her. Imagine the light dimming and slowly fading away. You might not be able to do it. Some people never learn to ignore the noise."

Niko meditated a moment, but was unable to do so. Instead, the heat of the day was replaced by an icy terror. Jad was dangerous enough when cornered, and he glowed. She was a star, beautiful and terrible. Brimming with such power that he could scarce believe it. The cruel white radiance of her magic was insurmountable. They were ants and she was, despite her waifish affect, a giant. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt his breath coming quick as panic overtook him. This entire affair was madness. Who could stand before such awful splendor? What business did over-educated boys have squaring off against her awesome and insurmountable power?

The vision left him in a rush, and he exhaled in a near sobbing. Bending forward he placed his hands on his knees, trying to control the vestigial fear instilled by his glimpse at the arcane energy of the elf.

Every instinct screamed to bolt, but then he saw Miriam out of the corner of his eye. Inhaling, he let out a long slow breath and got enough control over himself. If he ran, she'd scorn him. If he pulled out of this venture, he'd lose access to her entirely. A different kind of panic rose at the thought, but rather than letting it destroy him he seized on it. He let it set his mind in motion. "We need to go into the catacombs. There's money there to be had. Enough to make up the last bit."

"The last bit of what?" Jad's face screwed up in curiosity and concern "what are you babbling about?"

"Rasul has a notion, but it will cost a princely sum."

"Whatever his notions are, it isn't worth going into the underground." The tall mage's tone was firm, possibly for the first time in Niko's remembrance. "Besides, people go down there and come back with what? A few hundred gold if they're lucky? We'd have to go down a score of times to make any real money."

Niko leaned back against the low stone wall separating the street from the river. "True. Not fast enough."

From his left, Lazar spoke up "there's plenty of money flowing back this way from Sewochan. We could get ahold of that somehow."

"We're a bit high profile to play pirate, Laz." Jad leaned against the wall as well, regarding Niko still with some concern.

"Well what if we didn't go pirate it? What if you held me for ransom?"

"It's too dangerous. What if they sent someone to liberate you instead of paying the ransom?"

The youngest of the trio nodded "that would end this adventure before it even started." Lazar worried his lower lip "My... my uncle left me some grain contracts when he died this spring. My older brother has been insisting on buying them. I've been reluctant because I wanted to show him I could make it on my own. That I could do something right..."

Jad reached out and gently laid a hand on Lazar's shoulder "then we will do that. As a last resort. You deserve to have a chance to prove yourself to your family. You have nothing to prove to us though. So that can be plan b."

"What's plan A then?"

"Fucked if I know. Planning is Niko's thing not mine."

******

Kasia swung herself up onto the roof of the small porch behind the Bogdanovich manor. Creeping slowly up to a nearby window, she slid her dagger slowly up between the shutters. She felt the latch pop and slowly opened the shutter, before slipping into the dark room. Her elven eyes let her see the layout of the room despite the blackness of the night. She stayed stock still, frozen in place, listening to see if any of the servants were moving about.

She could hear someone below, probably the butler. Pacing and moving things. Small things from the sound of it. Tidying. The sort of mindless work that led to the kind of pristine order that petty tyrants among the servant class prided themselves on. A task he'd be too engrossed in to pay attention to the odd sound above, she hoped. She crept along the floor, slow deliberate movements designed to be silent. Reaching the door she opened it, relieved to find the hinges were as immaculately kept as she imagined the rest of the house to be. The heavy oak door swung into the room without so much as a whisper.

The house was unlit, as might be expected with the family out. She relied on her keen darksight, a gift from her Elven parent, and made her way through the upstairs. She wasn't sure what she was looking for really. She might know it if she saw it, so best to see what there was to see. Most of the rooms here in this wing of the house were small, with few to no personal effects. Servants' rooms. Strangely empty. Perhaps the Bogdanovich family were experiencing a lack of liquidity. Simic would want to know at any rate. She filed the notion away, then made her way to a study overlooking the foyer below. Here she had to risk a light if she was going to read anything. She took a small piece of carpet from the floor and rolled it to block the light at the bottom of the door, then stood and drew a small sphere from her pack. One of the vestiges of her doomed romance with Clancey the gun-mage. She whispered a word and the soft glow of light spread out, then another word and the light dimmed without extinguishing.

Making her way to the desk she leaned over it, looking over the contents. A few books. All in Homines. Histories of the republic. "Boring" she muttered, then looked over a sheaf of papers that seemed to be some sort of account ledger. Coffee beans, shipping contracts. Nothing particularly revelatory.

As she reached for another book she heard footsteps on the stairs. She froze a moment, covering the glowing sphere with her hand to make sure no light was visible from the hallway. As the door opened she stiffened, then gasped in surprise as a hand wrapped over her mouth from behind.

Instincts kicking in, her hand snatched the dagger from her belt and she started a weak backwards thrust, trying for her assailant's legs. The man twisted away from the blade and whispered harsh in her ear "quiet kitten, or you'll get us both caught." From the bristle of the beard against her, she surmised it was Alexi Zajic, and she relaxed against him.

The door caught momentarily on the carpet she'd laid and Zajec took the opportunity to pull her down behind the desk. Whoever was in the hallway entered the study, muttering darkly as they straightened the rug back into place, then spent a moment in the room before turning back out to the hall. She relaxed against Alexi's lap, feeling something against her ass through the older man's breeches. "really?" she whispered "right now of all times?"

A short laugh escaped his lips "what can I say I like your boyish ass. You should be flattered, man my age. It's been years."

She rolled her eyes "I know what you get up to, Trinthalas." She twisted out of his arms and stood, then offered him a hand.

"Less than you'd actually think. Most of those lonely women really just want someone to listen." He whispered, still careful of the remaining servant in the house.

"Why aren't you running after your master like a good dog anyway?" Kasia muttered another word, bringing the light up a bit so she could look more easily at the papers on the table again. She felt Zajic looming over her shoulder

"He doesn't take me to some of his engagements. Might be he's a boy fucker or something. Not that it'd bother me."

Kasia rocked back against him, teasingly, feeling the hard press of his erect cock against her toned cheeks through her leggings and his. "No I doubt you begrudge many their fun." She chuckled and pulled away, making mental note of the order of the papers on the desk before moving them.

"Nothing in there worth reading. Been through them." He pressed back into her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Been through this house top to bottom. Whatever he's into the father isn't part of it."

She swallowed, keenly aware of his maleness in the moment. The smell of him mingled with the leather of his armor. The bristle of his beard, the low baritone in her ear. The enormous cock pressed against her pert cheeks. "what are you doing" not a question, but the usually effective attempt to dodge the affections of a suitor.

"I'm just reading over your shoulder."

"I thought you said there wasn't anything to read here." She could hear her tone switch instantly to flirtatious and cursed herself. She'd been keeping to the odd woman since Clancey left, and her body was leading her mind down terrible paths. She did her best not to remember the lurid rumors about the man behind her.

"Didn't say I was reading the papers." His lips close to her ear, the tickle of his breath making her shiver down into her core. She held a breath and then arced as his hand slid under her tunic and up along her stomach.

"The last thing I need is your bastard in me." She groaned, but rocked her ass against his thick cock, body betraying her words.

"Easy enough to avoid" his calloused hand cupped a small breast, fingers toying with an iron-hard nipple. A soft moan escaped her lips and he pulled her to the nearby window. "Wouldn't due for your moans to alert the butler." He let her go, gesturing "Follow me if you want. Or don't," his graceful form easily leaping down to the lawn below.

"Fuck" she muttered. "Just... fuck." Then leaped out the window after him, tucking into a ball and rolling with the impact.

He took her hand, leading her to the carriage house behind the main building. Once inside he pulled her down into the hay, kissing her, wrapping his fist in her crimson curls, tugging hard enough for her to feel the burn in her scalp.

Her leg wrapped around his, her petite body strained into him. Her too wide mouth pulled at his lips with every kiss "I hate your beard" she muttered "shave for next time" her even, white, newly-grown, teeth tugging at his lower lip, biting hard enough for him to make a surprised sound.

"So there's going to be a next time?" His lips found her neck, sucking, pulling hard enough to mark her pale skin. She gasped, then moaned, the clothes on her back feeling confining, scratchy and hot. She pulled away to frantically strip away her tunic and pack.

Zajec took a moment to cast aside his leather cuirass and his sword belt. She ran her hands over his tunic, then tugged it up as he obligingly lifted his arms. His hands found hers, his body rolling to pin her to the bale of hay. His fingers wrapping around her wrists as his mouth feasted on the hollow of her throat.

Her small body arched, pressing her chest against his, needing his skin on her skin. The smell of him made her ache, the taste of his skin and the salt of his sweat conspired to push her into a frenzy. "Fuck I want your cock in me." Her legs wrapped around him and she rocked against him, feeling the swell of his cock through his loose breaches.

He let go of her wrists, sliding a hand between her legs. His fingers cupping her through her leggings, his palm pressing her lips against the swollen bud of her clit. He looked down at her "Don't you worry about that" His mouth descending, wrapping around her nipple. His teeth tugging as his tongue lashed.

Her nails found his back, raking down along the skin hard enough to leave angry red lines on his skin. Her legs spread, just enough that he took the opportunity to slide his hand into her leggings. Fingers pushing into her sex, palm grinding against her clit. His mouth latched to her breast, sucking firmly, tongue battering and flicking as his fingers curled inside her.

Her fingers tangled in his thick black hair, tugging hard at it. She gasped and then moaned, loving the feeling of being trapped beneath him, the urgency of his touches and the desire behind that urgency. She squeezed his fingers inside herself, grinding against his hand.

His hand slid away from her and he stood, working out of his breeches and boots. His thick cock stood at full attention, jutting proudly from his muscled frame. He took her hair gently in his hand and tugged her in, more suggestive than demanding.

Her lips wrapped around his manhood, her tongue swirling around it. She pushed down, slowly fucking him with her mouth as her unnatural green eyes gazed up at him, drinking in the sight of him. He was lean, like most of their people were. More thickly muscled though than any elf. His hand started to guide her pace, sliding her mouth up and down along his cock. She felt the head pushing against the back of her throat, and she relaxed a moment, letting it push deeper. She swallowed again and again, then pulled off "I meant what I said about your bastard." She rolled over, pushing her leggings down enough for him to fuck her.

"Like I said, easy enough." He muttered a spell, and she felt his finger, slick between her cheeks. She tensed, it wouldn't be the first time a man had fucked her ass but it wasn't what she was craving. Still, she felt his finger slide into her slowly. He spoke again, another eldritch word that slipped away from her perception and she felt a little warmth as the finger eased in and out of her.

"that's not really..." she moaned softly as his other hand wrapped around, toying with the pearl of her clit. She relaxed, feeling him work in and out of her as his fingers toyed with her button. At least he was being a gentleman about it.

A minute later, she felt herself rocking against his finger, her body building up in spite of what was coming. One became two, then slid out, leaving her empty a moment. Then came the press of that cock, thick, magically lubricated, working through the ring of her ass, pushing slowly into her "bastard" she groaned, feeling herself stretched around his fat cock.

"You love it." He kissed her neck and she felt herself pressing back, taking him deeper. His fingers found her clit again, stroking, strumming. He took his time, working slowly in and out, careful of her comfort.

"Really not what I meant" she muttered, but her body was already adapting to the situation, squeezing him and relaxing, squeezing again, each tug of her muscles making it easier for his shaft to push into her. Finally she felt his balls against her as his fingers danced across her clit.

"Don't worry, you'll get yours." He promised, and his fingers seemed intent on backing up that promise. He made tight circles against her, his other hand cupping her breast, pinching and tugging her nipple.

She could only respond with a moan and a roll of her hips as she ground back into him. She moved, slowly fucking him with her rear, working a few inches along his shaft, feeling each movement ease the passage even more.

Slowly, he started to fuck her, sliding nearly out, then slowly pushing in. The dance was deliciously disorienting. Uncomfortable as he worked deep into her tight passage, heavenly relief coming as he drew nearly out. All the while his fingers toying, circling, keeping a perfect steady stroke against her.

In spite of herself she began to fuck him back. Her hips moving faster. She felt him straighten, then grab her hair in one fist. He tugged her back to make her arch and started to rail her. The sound of her moans mingled now with the slap of his hips against her pert cheeks. She blushed as red as her hair, feeling slutty and used and amazing as he tunneled in and out of her ass. She whimpered, body taking him deep with every thrust. Her own release hovered just out of reach, infuriatingly close and yet miles away.

The force of his thrusts picked up and he covered her with his body again, his hand returning to her clit, rubbing it and her lips in circles, faster and faster as his cock drove deep into her bowels, fucking her nice and hard.

She felt herself shudder, her ass gripping the cock invading it, violating it so perfectly. Her muscles coiling to an absurd tautness, then all tension leaving her as she let go. "fuck... fuck you fucking bastard fuck" She quivered with the force of her release, powerful waves rocking through her as he continued to use her ass for his own pleasure, pace quickening as he found his own release. Pulling out he shot across her back, painting the skin.

"Damn, woman, I needed that" he ran his hand along her skin, rubbing his release into it. She groaned, feeling dirtier in the best of possible ways from it. Hating herself more than a little for cumming, for needing him. She tried to stand and felt ropey. The muscles of her core loose in ways she'd never experienced. It took a moment for her to get her bearings, but she managed to draw her leggings back up.

Zajic muttered a spell, cleaning the lubrication and her ass off his cock, then started to dress. "That... I've wanted since I saw you standing next to Mrs. Simic last winter." He sat on the hay bale, closing his eyes. She'd never seen him in such repose.

"Yay?" She snorted. "So good for me. The back road."

He laughed and rolled his eyes "You got yours." He still didn't move. There was a lassitude over him that was oddly charming. That she'd basically been able to enervate him gave her a small tinge of pride that was only dimmed by the irritation between her cheeks. "I guess I did" She curled up next to him on the hay. "So what do I call you... anyway."

"Why? Are you planning on seeing me again? The famous love-them-and-leave-them Kasia?" His fingers toyed in her crimson curls, his fingers gentler than his teasing words. "Right now, Bogdanovich thinks my name is Ivan. So Ivan when he's around. When anyone's around."

"And when they aren't?"

"Master?" He laughed "I'm kidding. I really am. Honestly. I don't really know who I am when nobody's around."

She twisted, looking up at him, trying to decide if this was a rare moment of vulnerability or a coldly calculated move to endear her to him. "No? you've been alive long enough."

He looked down at her "And I've never really been my own man. Not since that day at sea. I'm always being used to some purpose." He sighed "That's the first fuck I've had in years that was just for me. That wasn't for Kazimir." He moved towards her, hesitating... hovering over her face a moment before pulling back.

She took the chance, sitting up to kiss him. Gone was the fury, the fire. Instead, there was just a moment of quiet. "I get it. It hasn't been as long, but since... Since Marius rescued me and Simic took me in... I haven't exactly been my own person either."

He inhaled, looking out of the barn towards the big house "How many of us can say that we are?"

Kasia rested her head against his chest, drawing a little circle on his skin with a nail. Before they could get too morose she changed the subject. "So why aren't you with little lord Bogdanovich anyway?"

"Whatever he's up to he's freezing me out, and I'm not ready to blow my cover by following him. Besides I'm sort of off book here. I have a feeling... I was given some leave to indulge that feeling. I don't have enough really to go on."

Kasia sighed and thought for a moment "What if Bogdanovich had to fear for his safety on the way to these meetings? I know a few guys..."

He ran his fingers through her hair "Honestly I was getting to that point. If your friends do it so much the better. Nobody connected to me." He ran his fingers down along over her side "So there's a next time?"

"My ass hurts. So no. Well. Maybe. Probably."

******

Niko lounged in the shade of the tree in the parklet overlooking the bay, where the old catapult towers were... before the advent of cannon let them be moved higher and further back out of range of ship weapons. Miriam was asleep in the crook of his arm, lulled by an afternoon of reading and the midsummer heat.

He wished he could find that kind of peace. Miriam had, of late, been given an almost unlimited amount of time away from Rasul. The issue was that he too had been given quite a lot of time away from the charismatic Keshvian. He was being edged out of the inner circle by Bogdanovich. The two of them were constantly muttering to each other. The upstart coffee merchant's son had something that Niko apparently didn't. If he couldn't figure it out he'd be effectively frozen out of his own revolution. Forced to watch from the side.

He looked up at the sky, the robin's egg blue broken up by stately white clouds. No wind to disturb them they sat framed perfect and still like an oil painting. He wished he could summon up the tranquility suggested by the tableau. Instead, ever since he saw the witch in the light Jad saw her he had not had a moment's peace. Part of him was relieved he was being edged out. Let Bogdanovich be the tallest nail. He could just slip away with Miriam. Run his shipping business. Make something of himself, even as a younger son.

He looked down at her, sleeping peacefully against him and closed his eyes with a groan. She was the reason he wanted to run. She was the reason he never could. She deserved a man. Someone with convictions. Not some callow well bred youth who fled at the first sign of danger. But what a fucking danger.

He shook his head, clearing it of the doubts that plagued him. It didn't matter if he wasn't the head of the revolution. He had to be there. For her. For the workmen being evicted for Kazimir's college. For the poor who should have a say in their own government. It was enough to stand and fight. It would have to be.

Miriam stirred and he smiled down at her. She twisted to relieve the stiffness from her nap and looked over at him. "you seem troubled."

"Nothing. Just thinking." He stood and offered her his hand. Despite the affection between them, they'd yet to be intimate. Normally he'd have moved on, but he was smitten. Ruined, perhaps.

"It's not your strongest suit." She smiled, the tone in her voice taking the sting from the words. "Tell me what you're thinking about."

"Cevpapi"

"You fucking liar." She laughed "Alright we can get some food and you can tell me all about how sad you are everyone loves Luka Bogdanovich and has no time for poor beautiful Niko any more. What a shame, you'll have to give up your career as a politician to be a model. Or a male prostitute which is politician adjacent really. I'd visit you, you know. At the brothel. I'd bring mercury for your syphilis and makeup to keep the ravages of the pox from showing on your once lovely skin. And when you went mad from the mercury, I'd smother you lovingly with a pillow."

"If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

"True love would be paying a cleric to cure your syphilis. Gods above you westerners are impractical. It's all that stoicism you love. Suffering is sooo noble." She rolled her eyes and danced away "Come on, you know you get pouty when you're hungry."

******

Kasia crouched at the edge of the rooftop. She'd followed Bogdanovich to the same tavern on a few occasions, after he'd ditched his bodyguard. He took the same route. There wasn't good reason not to. It was in the rise, the middle class neighborhoods creeping up the sides of the mountains. It was safe enough. Usually.

Stepping out of a nearby tavern, colliding with Bogdanovich was a gaggle of lower class youths. Paid well enough out of Alexi's purse, they had their orders. Rough the young man up, take his coin and his stupid cape, then leave him on his way.

True to form, Bogdanovich couldn't let the insult sit. He shoved the nearest of the street toughs and fisticuffs ensued.. but only for a moment. The boy stepped back and while she thought he'd draw his bejeweled rapier and wave it, he instead snapped his wrist and a bracelet disappeared, only for a serviceable blade to appear in his hand.

Kasia held her breath. The street toughs hadn't signed on for this level of violence. Knives were drawn though. Bogdanovich fought not like a man trained in the Salle, but like a killer. Trained by Alexi. It was impressive, and hard to watch. Swift economic movements left three of the men staggering away with wounds that might be fatal if unattended. She was about to intervene when two of the gang tackled him from behind, trapping his sword arm against the ground and pummeling him mercilessly. She relaxed a bit, but the violence of the moment was too much and she slipped away, hoping to catch the injured gang members so she could arrange for medical attention.

******

Niko and his porters came into the basement of the tavern, finding Rasul holding court. Bogdanovich was in the corner, looking like he'd been set upon by a mob. His bodyguard came, a first for these meetings. Three new men also stood, standing around a table, talking to Rasul. It all came clear. The head of the mason's guild, Rajic Turko, the head of the plasterers and wheelwrights were present as well. The men of those guilds were most heavily displaced by the construction of the university. Bogdanovich being nouveau riche had connections in the trades that the rest of them didn't. That's what he brought to the table.

Rasul, having no time for anyone else apparently, moved to cozy up to the young coffee merchant. "Lord mayor has a nice ring to it doesn't it Luka?" the Keshvian spoke low enough that if Niko hadn't been directly behind him, he'd never have heard him. "The others will fuck off to run their family businesses eventually. The glory is in setting up the thing not running it. But you. You have vision. You could rise to the top of the new government, buoyed by the support of the people."

Niko cleared his throat. Rasul turned "oh? Has my cousin no errands for you to run?"

Niko gestured and his men placed chests of gold before Niko. It was the accumulated contribution of Lazar, Niko and Jad, but they'd managed to come up with the money Rasul needed to hire the witch breaker "If you're not interested in our gold, I can fuck off Rasul." He held his breath, hoping Rasul hadn't abandoned the plan. He and his friends had gone heavily into debt for this gold. Many years future earnings had been borrowed against. He'd be no better than a pauper till it was paid.

The Keshvian's eyes flashed. "no. No. Niko, Niko, Niko." He laughed "You'll forgive me if my... protectiveness of our virtuous Keshvian women has made me cold of late." There was still a dagger in that smile. "I sometimes let my love of my dear dear cousin interfere with what is best for the movement. You must forgive me, I have been a cur."

Niko shrugged. The Keshvian's approval was no longer important to him. The cause mattered, and the gold would be the death of Kazimir's witch. No longer would the obsolete feudal classes lord over the people.

He moved to the table to find a map of the city, with various squares and other areas marked out "This is an excellent map" he gestured.

"Luka got it from the scrivener's guild. They copied it from Kazimir's witch. She's practically obsessed with the streets above and caves below. She continually pays for new maps of the shifting catacombs."

Niko shrugged, the idiosyncrasies of the witch were of less interest than the plan itself. "When can the witch breaker arrive?"

"A month. My men return from Sewochan then anyway. A company of the finest Keshvian mercenaries will arrive and take the wall on the fall solstice. We need only hold it a few days. With your ships supplying us from the sea, we can keep Kazimir out of the city in time for the people to rise and bolster our forces. With the people standing with us, Kazimir won't turn his guns on us." Rasul nodded at Luka "That one. You haven't been nice enough to Niko."

Niko nodded, begrudgingly admitting Bogdanovich had scored a coup with co-opting the guilds and their leaders to the cause. "A true republic rests on the strength of its people."

Bogdanovich's guard, the half elf Ivan, also stared over the map. "The squares here and here are too small to store all your powder. Hell, to repel an attack on the walls you'll need them to be full of men."

He drew a line with his finger "I assume you're storing your powder here and here? Or are you clearing out the houses next to the wall and storing it there?"

Both plans had their problems, and the group vacillated between them. The squares were farther from the wall, but the houses were difficult to enter and could be a hazard if they caught fire and were full of powder.

"You seem a man who knows his way around a battlefield."

"I was at Cremont when the Volk finally crushed the Red Duke."

"Nonsense that was eighty years ago."

"Eighty-five."

Niko looked up at the man, and saw Rasul appraising him. "Cannon weren't that prevalent."

"No. they weren't." Ivan straightened "But the Red Duke had muskets and powder. Went to hell on him too. Pyromancer destroyed his whole supply with the flick of a wand. Killed a hundred men when it went off."

Some of the faces in the room went white. Niko nodded "We will pull the powder back to here." He gestured at the area where the new construction for the University was happening "The walls are on, even if the roof isn't. Thick, strong. Flying buttresses. It's defensible and there's a relatively broad avenue to the north gate, thanks to Kazimir's urban renewal plans."

As the group chattered about strategy, Niko found himself again welcomed into the inner circle. He could feel Luka Bogdanovich's wounded expression even without seeing it. There was a subtle shift in the temperature of the room and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd pay some price for all this beyond the gold he'd used to buy his way back in.

******

Kasia had never been inside the keep. Outside of it, talking to Livonia with Clancy... yes. The inside was a revelation. She'd expected grandeur and what she found was a true fortress. The interior of the thick walls held a bustling military organization. Gunsmiths and blacksmiths repairing damaged equipment, stores of powder and cannonballs. A legion of pikemen at the ready.

Her gaze turned up to the thick walls as a crane lowered a heavy cannon into place. Far larger than the cannons of the coastal forts even. It was not alone, a dozen of those monsters sat on the walls of the keep, pointed towards the town.

"What's that about?"

"The keep won't fall from the North. The feudal lords protect the passes in and out of Volk and Ludowy territory easily. Any invasion will come from the sea. Also, if something awful comes out of the catacombs." Alexi shrugged "then it will come from that way."

They moved through the second curtain wall and into the inner workings of the keep. Here there were more trappings of wealth and civilization. Moving into the keep proper, her eyes fell on tapestries depicting the heroics of the line of dukes, going back to the slaying of the dragon of the mountain and the founding of the duchy as it now was.

Alexi steered her towards a corner tower, and they made their way up the steps to a cramped office. Inside, surrounded by a collection of powders and papers, strange brass mechanisms and charts of the shifting passages of the catacombs, sat Livonia. Kasia felt a shudder ripple through her. The woman had never been exactly friendly. Marius had explained, gruffly, that while regular Elves viewed half-breeds with a certain amount of pity City Elves viewed them as a visible reminder of the moral failure of some Elf who deigned to breed with a human. Her contempt was masked, but Kasia could feel it in every slight inflection or subtle shift in expression.

"You brought a pet, Zajec. How refreshing."

There it was. Kasia plastered on a smile "Baroness" giving an exaggerated curtsy.

The look of annoyance on the normally cool features of the sorceress was payment enough. Kasia smiled and settled into a chair.

Alexi gave his report, outlining the families involved in the nascent revolution, and the current plans for how to lay out men and supplies. The sorceress listened, face so placid and serene it verged on blank. "Why bring this to me? Why not simply arrest the conspirators and have them hung? Even their families can't countenance revolution enough to protest."

"Because, milady," Kasia began "The anger isn't at Kazimir. It is at you. The people feel aggrieved by your displacement of an old, well-established neighborhood. People that had the safest houses in the basin have been crowded into the dangerous, crowded, and filthy warrens at the mouth of the river. You cannot arrest this movement. It can only be utterly broken or co-opted. Anything you do to break it will only strengthen it if you don't utterly succeed."

"What's more, your grace, these boys have somehow managed to hire the Kirici Cadi."

Kasia watched the other woman's eye twitch subtly at the mention of whatever that was. A little tremor in her cheek spoiled the porcelain perfection of her face and Kasia swallowed, feeling uncomfortable seeing what might be the manifestation of actual fear. Curiosity and self-preservation warred in her, and she erred on the side of caution. She could find out about the... whatever it was... after they left the fortress.

"Have they indeed?" The elf unfolded herself from behind her desk, moving to a nearby shelf. She pulled a bottle of Volkish red and uncorked it, pouring a glass. She offered them none, holding the wine a moment without drinking. Kasia's keen vision picked up on the ripples in the surface of the wine, betraying the tremor in the sorceress' hand. "I assume that they mean that for me." Livonia drained the glass and set it aside, looking back over the pair. Icy blue eyes regarded them for a long moment "Well. I shall have to do what I can to disappoint them. The power of the order has not been tested against one of my mettle in quite some time."

The witch bent, opening a drawer and took a small pouch out of her desk. She tossed it to Kasia casually "For your insight into the matter."

Tormented by curiosity, the half-elf opened the bag and peeked inside. It was a diamond of a size and color that would be able to pay a generous portion of her debt to Simic. At least ten percent. Breath caught in her throat at the casual nature of the toss. The disregard for the value of the thing. She jerked the drawstring shut, tucking the diamond away lest Livonia come back to her senses.

As the pair made their way down the mountainside, Kasia stopped, pausing at one of the way stations overlooking the city, with another canon emplacement. No guards there today, as there were no threats from the sea, it was as safe a place as any. "So what's this... Kirici... whatever. What is it that has Kazimir's witch so out of sorts?"

Alexi paused, considering for a moment. "They're an order of Keshvian assassins. The Keshvian's take children with magical inclination and they... do something to that magic. They twist it so it turns in on itself and negates all magic around. Then they train those children for the rest of their lives to kill. A powerful mage can alter a battlefield in moments. A cadre of them can wreak so much devastation on another army as to utterly break it. That's why most battle wizards are really just there to counter the other side's wizards. The Kirici Cadi are there to neutralize the enemy wizards and allow the Keshvians to work their magic on regular troops. The process is difficult and deadly. Many don't survive. Magic is tied to life, and their presence saps the energy and will of anyone around them. It is a lonely and terrible path. They tend to go a bit mad from the lack of human company and the horrors performed on them."

"So why haven't the Keshvian's used them before now on Livonia?"

"They're unfortunately hard to hide. A man passes by a guard and the guard feels lethargic and he's going to raise the alarm. Not because he knows what is happening, but he's going to surmise magic. That gives them limited ability to assassinate without a squad to help them. In turn, they can't spend a great deal of time with a squad. That's why they're mostly employed on the field. Livonia never leaves the keep except with soldiers. Or Marius."

"What's their connection, anyway?"

"Hmm? No idea. Speculation is they were lovers once. I don't buy it. Neither of them seems the type to spare a moment for anything but their craft."

"I don't know. I feel like they have a lot in common. Pretentious Homines names. Love of killing. Long black coats." Kasia's mouth split into her too wide gremlin grin. "Insufferable smugness. Why they're practically made for each other."

Alexi didn't seem to find it all that amusing.

******

As the autumn chill hit the city, replacing the burning heat of the summer, the leaves in the heights turned a cacophony of colors, brilliant gold and orange and red. The smell of wood smoke hung heavy in the air, a perpetual haze over the basin.

A pale elf regarded the hazy city from her position on the heights for a long moment, then watched a party of horsemen ride down the mountain for their assignation north of the City. Turning inside, she took up a series of pigments "These are expensive" she admonished her companion "So I need you to sit still." Delicate fingers traced whorls and eldritch designs along expanses of skin. Precisely intoned incantations accompanied the paint. Her delicate features screwed up in concentration as she poured her energy and attention into the subject of her work. The craft was agonizingly slow. Every line in perfect place. Every arc just so. She hardly noticed the sun fade from the sky, leaving the room in near darkness before she had the presence of mind to light the glow-globes. Still she worked, until hours after sundown.

Rising, wordless, she moved over to her bed and dozed, gathering herself, fighting off the headache that came from hours of such exacting work.

Meanwhile in the basin, earnest young men went from door to door, warning the recipients to leave the neighborhood just south of the wall, moving without fanfare, non-descript and making every effort to be circumspect, occasionally offering gold to those reluctant to leave their homes. Gold that seemed near endless for the handsome, earnest youths.

Laying above it all, a couple lays entwined in borrowed luxury, sleeping on silk sheets made for their betters, stealing a moment for themselves in lives not quite their own. She stirs, restless and yet, for the first time in a long time, a single gentle touch stills her to quiet.

******

Niko exited the Temple of the Sea into the cold autumn morning. Still tired, he wondered at the possibility of a good cup of coffee down in the dock area. Turning, he took Miriam's hand "Should we get some breakfast? Or should we go celebrate?"

Hours before, she'd climbed to his window like a thief, and roused him in the pre-dawn gloom. To his surprise and delight, she'd taken him to the Temple of the Sea. The priests of the temple would marry any couple with no notice, and no questions asked. The number of sailors who needed to marry before sailing off, or those that needed to marry in order to bed a girl of some virtue had led the clergy of that hallowed place to take a relaxed view on who could or should be married.

He still reeled at it, confused and elated all at once. This was everything he'd been building to all summer, and he was eager to consummate the relationship. So eager, in fact, he'd forgotten all about what he was supposed to be doing that morning.

Miriam leaned in and kissed him softly, lingering on his lips as her fingers twined with his. She broke the kiss to look up at him. "There's time for that later, husband." She brushed her thumbs along his hands, then slipped hers away "But. I have to go confess what I've done to my parents and you... you have to meet Rasul."

An uneasy tightness gripped his chest. It was the day. Rasul's men were due on the ships this afternoon, and by the evening they'd be taking the wall north of the city that separated the town from the Demonska Planina and the ducal palace. "I felt like perhaps we should celebrate before that." They'd yet to consummate the relationship, and a part of him had the dread feeling he'd die from a dragoon's musket ball without experiencing true wedded bliss.

Her laugh dispelled the moment of fear "Don't worry, my love. I'll come for you before things get too heated. They can't begrudge a man one last night with his wife now can they?"

He looked down at her, brown eyes filled with merriment and certainty to the point that it was impossible not to agree. He'd get a moment with her before the events of the evening unfolded. She believed it, so he had to believe it. They were one now. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, then stepped back. "You better."

"I promise."

He watched her leave, taking the carriage she'd "borrowed" from her parents. He picked up his pack, chain shirt and pistol, shot and powder heavy against his back. He contemplated a walk through the warrens, deciding that dying in some mugging was altogether too much like what would happen in a play to a man who hadn't fucked his wife yet.

Turning towards the river, he paid a few silvers to a boatman to ferry him against the current towards the wall. He arrived bright and early, finding a nearly deserted marketplace. Their boys had done well. Most of the people in houses around where troops would be massed or powder and shot would be stored were empty. At least there'd be little collateral damage if it all went to hell. Rasul seemed confident however, and Luka almost smug about the tradesmen rising up with them. Kazimir needed them to build his damned university. He couldn't very well slaughter them. Still, it bothered him using the poor as human shields. That was Luka and Rasul's project.

He looked around, wondering if the witch breaker was here already, wondered if he could feel the odd draining that was said to occur in their presence. Shaking his head, he cleared it of strange thoughts, and moved into a small café to find Rasul and Luka already at breakfast.

Jadranko and Lazar were there as well, both sober for a change. Lazar wore a cavalry saber at his hip that didn't seem to sit quite right, and a poorly fitted mail hauberk with a gambeson. Jad wore a coat in the style of the City Elves. Niko knew it to be no attempt at fashion however. The eldritch symbols stitched into the coat would offer some protection against enemy magic. At least that's what Jad said. He remained skeptical that anything could offer solace in the face of Livonia Scipii in her full fury. The witch-breaker would have to do its job, or they were dead men.

He sat, heavy, drinking his coffee. The shop was quiet, the air leaden with the gravity of what they were about to do. Others filtered in, young men of breeding who were schooled in the arts or philosophy and economics, now caparisoned for war. Each dwelling quietly on his own fears or aspirations, as the case might be.

Rasul rose, nodding at Niko and gesturing towards the door. He wagged a finger at Luka, who sat dejectedly. Niko followed Rasul into the crisp morning, feeling a pit in his stomach. Did the Keshvian know? He could hardly object as the marriage was legal, but on the other hand he might not care. He swallowed, tugging at the hilt of his rapier to make sure he'd have an easy draw. He wasn't fool enough to believe he could beat Rasul, but he might stave off the attack long enough for Jad and Laz to come out if it came to it.

"The men are arriving. I need you to discuss with the commanders where to set up. You have the best head for planning of all these boys."

He felt lightheaded as relief washed over him. Not only had he so far gotten away with marrying the Keshvian's cousin, he was being trusted with a key occupation. He nodded "yes Rasul."

The Keshvian shrugged "I'll want you to make some kind of speech to your countrymen when this all starts. The guild folk follow Luka, but he's not well liked among the upper class. Quite a few of you have hired your own mercenaries for this and your morale is of the utmost importance. There will have to be a face of this thing. You have the wealthiest most powerful family, and you're fucking likeable and smart. When it comes time, we're going to have to have a father of the revolution and it might as well be you."

Niko reeled a moment but nodded "I can see that. You're right, Luka's not quite got the gift for talking to a crowd. I'll do it."

At that, wagons of men began arriving. With crisp precision mustached Keshvians began erecting barriers on the streets to the south. Rasul gestured at a man with a red armband, and then at Niko, leaving him to it.

Niko stalked across the cobblestoned square, intent on getting this thing done in the hopes he might spend some time with his new wife yet. The Keshvians were a motley lot, no two of them dressed alike and with no semblance of uniform. Not totally unexpected given they'd come into the city in fits and starts, and somewhat typical of mercenaries his family had employed in the past. Uniforms were a luxury for forces with money and time. He noted a similarity in equipment though, each man wielding a scimitar, a musket and a pistol. They moved with a speed and precision that gave him hope. They were disciplined, these mercenaries, far more than any of the rag-tag groups employed to guard the family's shipping interests in the southern seas.

The captain, Kerem, gave brisk orders in Keshvian, and his men leaped to obey. Niko was fortunately fluent. "We are going to occupy these squares here and here" he gestured towards places along the wall "Those are easiest to reinforce the wall from. We've got loyal men in the gatehouse already, so there's nothing to worry about with mustering. None will be the wiser."

The Keshvian was more concerned with approaches from the south. "The wall is the wall. If it stays, we live. If it falls, we die. I am more concerned about men from the harbor castle." He asked pointed questions about the approaches from that direction, concentrating his rear guard on the few avenues wide enough for horsemen. "What about the entries from the catacombs?"

"The problem is new ones open all the time. The good news is that the catacombs are full of monsters. Dragoons would have to fight through the maze to get here. We should probably have a force stationed nearby just in case. Still, Kazimir's men control the entrances and if they see you building barricades it's probably over for us all."

"Then best we not erect the barricades there until the noise starts."

******

Kasia stirred as the noon sun made itself known even around the shutters. She shivered at the chill in the air and burrowed a little deeper into the covers, feeling the warmth of a broad chest behind her. She sighed and twisted a little, opening her eyes to look into the odd burnished silver irises of the man with her. "You're still here." She smiled a little at that "I half expected you to sneak out like you usually do." She hesitated a moment, then wrapped an arm around him, pressing her forehead against his chest. Her fingers ran along his arm, tracing the lean muscle there.

"Well. I thought that I didn't want to regret not spending the morning with you, since." He trailed off.

She nodded "Do. Do you want me to... I mean. I can come. I can help." Her eyes flicked up to catch the 'no' already forming on his lips, and she steeled herself for it.

He looked down at her, pausing. The weight of that impending no seemed to fill the air between them, a crushing finality to their fling. Today, for better or for worse, they had no real business to connect them any further. That was why he stayed. This would be the last tryst. Good enough while it lasted, she supposed.

"Yes."

She started to sit up to let him go when it registered. She froze a moment, not wanting to ask if he was serious in case he said no. She reached out, cupping his face, feeling the beard against her hand. "Ok. I'll let Simic know I'm busy." She made her way to the desk next to the shuttered windows, retrieving the alchemical cloth popular among the upper class when a bath wasn't convenient. She began to clean herself, sucking on the stone that would clean her teeth. "What do you want me to bring?"

"I have signal flares, color coded for each of the squares in the neighborhood. Once the sun goes down, we will need to fire them off. It's best if we do so near at least a few of the squares. Color coding is fine, but if anything can be fucked up, it will be."

"I feel you there" She turned, still nude, freezing, but wanting his eyes on her like she hadn't wanted anything in a long time. No, she corrected herself, as she hadn't let herself want anything in a long time.

"You do know we have work to do right?" He laughed "and I'm over one hundred. I need at least a few hours before I'd be ready to go again." He gestured at her nakedness, then got up, working into his breeches. He'd brought his pack, and set about checking his weapons and equipment as she slipped into muted greys and browns that would give her some cover against the roofs of the nearby buildings. Her crimson hair was tucked into a woolen cap, and a series of daggers secreted about her person as she prepared to follow him down into the basin.

"For what it's worth..."

"No, Kasia. We don't do that. We talk about what it's worth when we're both back here. Both of us."

She shivered, feeling an ominous eddy of cold that even Simic's perfectly crafted shutters couldn't keep from the room. If they made it back. If, not when. "Of course. When we're both back. Should I have Pavel put out a bottle of vranac?"

"And some cheese, I should think. What's a party without cheese?"

******

As the afternoon wore on, Niko was more and more impressed with the speed and unity of the mercenary company. The men worked together in tandem with utter precision. Sets of barricades were swiftly erected, cutting the neighborhood off from the south of the city except through narrow streets that would be hard to take horses along in any kind of numbers.

He and Rasul were discussing the preparations with Kerem, when some of the men arrived saying there was a person there to see him. Rasul gestured, and the men disappeared, returning a few moments later with Miriam.

Niko blanched, he'd not been prepared and he looked over to Rasul a moment, breath held. He looked back at his wife, then noticed the bruise on her face, the puffiness around her eye. His concern for himself gave way and he bolted forward "what happened?"

"My father happened. We can discuss it..." She stopped, looking over at Rasul and gripping Niko's arm tightly. "Later."

Rasul swept in, looking her over with a frown "What are you doing down here woman? This is a place for men. Get back to your father's house and prepare to ship out."

She stood, tall and proud, looking fierce despite the bruising. Unbowed. "I'm not going. Rasul."

Niko looked between them, clearly having missed something. He dropped his hand casually to his blade, in case there was to be trouble.

"I am staying here, in Gradzlata with my husband."

Rasul glowered a moment and turned to Niko "Is this true? How is it even possible?" His handsome face was a barely controlled mask of rage. "Did her father give permission? Or did you bribe some priest or defraud them with some old Keshvian to stand in for her?"

Niko inhaled, then exhaled slowly "The sea waits on the pleasure of no man." Repeating the mantra of the priests of the sea god who had married them.

"She was to be mine, Niko." The Keshvian sighed and stepped back. "But, you have out maneuvered me it would seem. Well done." The mercurial Keshvian's demeanor changed almost immediately. "I must bow to the superior tactician."

Niko elected not to share that he too had been outmaneuvered by his wife. The Keshvian's acceptance of the situation worked to his favor and hers for the moment. He might actually live through the day at this rate. As he opened his mouth, Miriam spoke.

"You surely won't begrudge Niko a little time with his wife?" She looked around at the shadow covered streets, the late afternoon sun hidden already by the top of the mountains. "The cause can spare him an hour."

Rasul gestured, turning his attention back to the fortification effort. Niko grabbed Miriam's hand, taking her away to a nearby empty house. "So what happened?"

"Shhhhh" She pressed her finger to his lips "There's time enough to talk." She swallowed, clearly nervous, then looked around the empty house. She moved over to the fireplace and lit a fire, then turned. She was taut like a bowstring, her body radiating a nervous energy. He moved in, concerned, watching her face. She closed her eyes, then drew her men's shirt up over her head, exposing herself for the first time.

As she opened her eyes he saw the customary brashness had all but fled. He drank her in, taking in the sight of her. He strode over, cupping her face in both hands, looking into the rich brown of her dark eyes. He smiled "By the gods you're more beautiful than I even imagined."

She softened then, wrapping her arms around him to draw him in for a kiss. Where previously she'd been reserved now she was open, relaxed. Her lips parted to draw his between and by instinct he ran his hands along the smooth expanse of her back. As he felt the light tap of her tongue against his lip he sucked it into his mouth. Picking her up, he sat her down on a nearby table, then knelt before her. Tugging her dress down and away, he kissed along her inner thighs till he reached the apex, then dragged his tongue along her lips.

"Niko? What are you... what... oh"

He watched her stiffen as his tongue found her clit, then relax. Her moans, at first tentative, built up as he worshipped her with his mouth. His hands stroked along her hips, his eyes locked to her beautiful face. He stopped a moment "I love you." Then resumed his attention. It felt good to say it. It felt better to feel it. For the first time he knew it was true.

"I uh... same" she mumbled, a little out of sorts. Her hand gathered in his hair, holding him against her. "I shouldn't ask where you... learned to do this" She laughed, squeezing him in her thighs "but you shouldn't stop."

Concentrating, he kept her held close as his mouth worked against her lips. His tongue tickled her clit, keeping the pace steady and even until he felt her stiffen. He heard the whimper in her voice, that telltale sign that for a moment it was all too much. She wriggled a bit but he held her against him, redoubling his tender assault on her clit till he felt that tension drain out of her body with her cries.

Pulling back, he regarded her "Fuck you're beautiful" then stood. He undid his breeches, then slowly entered her, wrapping his arms around her as he felt her stiffen. "You ok?"

She nodded "Don't stop" clinging to him, her hands running along his back. He took her, slow stroks at first so she could get used to him, then the velvety warmth of her kept him from restraint. His breath came faster as he lost himself in her body, thrusting into her again and again. The heat of her, the slick snug feel of her wrapped around him drove him mad.

"Worth the wait?" She moaned into his ear, her nails digging into his back.

"Yes. Fuck" his body moved of its own accord, driven to have her, to get that release he'd been denied all summer. His eyes met hers, holding her gaze in the flickering firelight. "Always. You've always been worth it." He felt himself let go, losing himself in her, the embrace of her arms and body taking him over the edge.

He laid her back on the table, crawling onto it next to her, spent. His fingers stroked her skin, exploring the body he at once knew well and had never truly seen. His eyes closed, and he listened to her breathing for a long time till finally she spoke.

"You can't go back to the wall."

"What? What are you talking about of course I have to go back. I'm doing this for you as much as for anything." He sat up, reeling. All this time he thought she was behind the revolution and now she was begging him not go go.

"I know." She sat up and inhaled. "But you're not doing it for me. You're doing it for Rasul. You're doing it for Kesh even if you don't realize it." She turned, facing him. "Listen to me."

He'd already stood up, stalking over to the fire, staring down into it. He watched it dance as he felt a mélange of emotions run through him: Stress, relief, fear, anger and love all warring in equal measure.

"When I got home this morning my parents were packing. Packing to go back to Kesh. I was to be married to Rasul when he got home. When he returned home a war hero."

The comment didn't register for a moment. He looked over at her "A war hero? Where?"

"Here. HERE Niko. Rasul isn't in exile. He's a commander of a company of Janissaries. He's here to take Gradzlata for the Sultan of Kesh." She drew her knees up to her chest. "My father's assistance in introducing him to the wealthy of Gradzlata was, apparently, the price of our return to Kesh. Now you all... Well. You all will either die under the counter-attack or live long enough to be remembered by your countrymen as traitors."

Niko stared into the fire. He wanted to deny it, but it was obvious in retrospect. The mercenaries hired by Rasul were too professional. They worked together too well, they were too competent. The witch-breaker too. How would a Keshvian exile have access to the secret order of mage killers that served the mullahs and Sultan of Kesh?

"Rasul still means to marry me. I'm sure of it. If you go back to that wall, he will kill you. It isn't too late. We could go down to the harbor castles and raise the alarm. They can call back the navy to ward off reinforcement at the very least. Niko, if you back out now and you warn them you... you won't be hung for this."

"Those are my friends. What if they win it?"

"Your republic will die with Gradzlata. Kesh won't allow you self-rule. The Volk and the Ludowy won't allow Kesh to maintain a foothold here. Your city will burn time and time again as the great powers seize it from one another. You can still salvage this if you warn Kazimir."

"There's no possibility he doesn't know."

"He knows, sure. There's an army on his wall. But he doesn't know it's Kesh. Please Niko please. Please come with me."

He stared into the fire for a long moment. "Get dressed" as he stowed himself away back in his breeches and buckled on his sword belt. "I need to think. I can't think with you like that." HE straightened, rubbing his temples. "In an hour it will be dark enough for us to slip past the Janissaries. We can head down to the harbor castle. Or we can get on one of my father's ships and head for Sewochan." He sighed and turned to face her. "Maybe. Don't get dressed exactly yet."

******

Lazar watched the Keshvian prowl along the avenue lining the northern wall of the city for an hour. Luka Bogdanovich had yet to materialize with the workers that were supposed to both serve as a shield against the immediate wrath of Kazimir, and also swell the ranks if it came to close quarters fighting. Rasul's increasing agitation made the rest of them give a wide berth.

Laz looked about for Jadranko; the mage having avoided the wall as soon as he felt the presence of the witch breaker. The normally jocular mage had taken up a position guarding the powder and shot. As a pyromancer, he was their best hope at keeping fire from destroying the supply. As usual, without the mage around, everyone seemed to find Laz invisible. That was fine. It meant he could loaf a bit without reproach.

While loafing, just as the sun was disappearing behind the western branch of the mountains, Luka appeared, having run some distance apparently. "They're not coming" the boy huffed. "Went. Went to the guild house. Guards there said nobody was in. Building empty. No lights. Said. Said the guild masters went north with most of their people, out of the City. Bastards fucked us."

"Idiot" The Keshvian backhanded Luka, sending him sprawling to the ground "You had one use. ONE." Rasul's hand dipped to the hilt of his rapier, then slipped away. "All you brought to this endeavor were those men. You had better pray we hold this wall against the Duke long enough to be reinforced. If not, you'll hang. Go find Niko. Of the lot of you he's the only one with a good head on his shoulders."

Luka jumped up, starting to draw his blade with the Keshvian punched him square in the nose, dropping him again. "Do not try my patience, boy. Find Niko and bring him here. And Kerem. It's time for the adults to think."

Laz watched Luka stumble off with no small amount of satisfaction. Making his way up to the wall he drew out his looking-glass and scanned the roads coming down from the fortress to the plan beyond. In the receding light he saw a single rider on a white horse. The rider was small, wearing a black coat.

As he heard the Keshvian ascend the stairs to the battlements next to him, he passed the glass over. "So the witch comes alone." Rasul muttered "Well. At least something goes right. They underestimate us." He motioned for gunners to man the wall, and the witch breaker ascended with them. Even being no mage, Laz could feel the pull of the man's not power but strange absence of power that seemed to draw some of the very life force out of those around him. Lazar moved down the battlement, out of the area of effect, then trained his glass on the base of the mountain, searching again for the rider. She seemed to be in no hurry, stopping at the small fort at the base of the mountain. "Maybe she's bringing troops after all."

"There's twenty men in that fort. Let her bring twice as many. We've four hundred here at the wall, not counting the various men at arms you rich boys have guarding you. Maybe six hundred in total. You can't break a siege with a tenth the numbers of the garrison."

Rasul's spirits seemed buoyed. And why not? The famous sorceress had decided she was enough to put this rebellion down. She would learn.

******

As night fell, and the flares would become visible, Kasia readied the charges, going from roof to roof. She put them in place earlier, as Alexi instructed, so if either died the other could complete the mission. A morbid thought, she felt at the time. Now, looking down at the scores of men in the streets she wasn't so sure. Something felt off. For most of her forty years she'd prowled the streets of Gradzlata. She'd met adventurers and pirates, mercenaries and noblemen. These men didn't have the bearing of your average merc. They had a discipline, a hardness to them that spoke more of Kazimir's dragoons than some ragtag bunch of near-bandits.

Backing up that thought were glimpses of field guns and emplacements that had a solid command of the streets below. She couldn't help but feel that she was luring brave men into a meat grinder, to be chewed up by a sterner foe than they anticipated.

For now, she shivered in the night air. As hot as the summer was the fall was unseasonable cold, and the peaked roofs offered some solace from the wind, but no real cover. Blowing on her hands to warm them, she tried to keep herself warm while keeping herself concealed. Never easy. She knew the men below would hardly be looking at the rooftops, but once she fired the first flare it would be a different story.

Alexi had told her she'd know when to fire, as if he delighted it being cryptic. "You'll know when it's time." She mocked his baritone, then sighed and looked up at the sky, drawing her grey cloak around her a little tighter. Just then, she heard the boom of a voice echoing across the city.

******

The newly married couple huddled in the abandoned house, waiting for the darkness outside. "They might just let me through, but it is probably safer for us to go over a house." He knew Miriam could climb, and if it came to it there were a few houses with balconies they could use to scale to get onto a roof and then travel along to drop into the southern half of the city. "I'll just tell anyone we come across that I'm doing last minute inspections."

Miriam kept close, and the couple made their way south, through the narrow streets towards the poorest quarters of the city. "The warrens are dangerous. Once we're past the checkpoints we need to head back to the river and take the river road to the harbor. Once there we can alert the duke's men."

The couple huddled to the sides of buildings as they moved. The dark streets were perfect for skulking about, and they managed to avoid a few janissary patrols. As they reached a less heavily guarded section of the neighborhood, Niko heard the booming voice of the witch carrying across the mostly empty neighborhood.

******

Lazar watched the woman on the white horse ride slowly up towards the gate. She lifted a hand and her voice filled the night, clear as a bell. "Men of Gradzlata! You have been deceived in a Keshvian plot. These are no mercenaries. They are Janissaries. You do the will of the Sultan of Kesh. The guildsmen are not coming. They have remembered their fealty and have been rewarded. Even now, each of the displaced families whose lives have been disrupted by the university are settling on their acre plots of land north of the city, where they will build a new town along the water, nestled to the north of the mountain! THEY ARE NOT COMING TO YOUR AID."

She paused. "NO Keshvians are coming either, Rasul. The king of Ludowy intercepted your navy yesterday off the coast of Izfar. The west will not tolerate your meddling."

"Those of you that remove yourself from the barricades and return to your home shall be given the Duke's undeserved mercy! Your families will pay a fine and you will be exiled for ten years. In exchange you will have your lives, and keep your estates. For those that do not leave, I will have no mercy. I am the Duke's right hand. I am the keeper of the rod of Amon. I am many things and more, but to you I am death. I will send a rain of fire. I will send a plague of locusts. I will open the doors to the hells and summon forth the chained ones that howl for your souls. Not a man of you will stand. I will smite my ruin upon you and I will salt the earth in the wake of my passage. When I am done, I will travel to the heights and I will throw down your great houses. I will slaughter your people and confiscate their ships, their gold and their land. Unlike the forgiving Kazimir I have no tolerance for treason. Choose now! Flee or face my wrath!"

Rasul laughed "Heed not the words of this witch. She has performed no feats of magic in public in decades. She is a charlatan. A paper tiger. Our navy comes to relieve us. The king of Ludowy would have had to sail weeks ago to intercept us at Izfar." He turned and nodded to the witch-breaker "Is it truly her?"

"I can feel her power. It thrums like a god." The man leaned forward; eyes ravenous "I must taste it. I must feel it run through me. Only her power can fill the hole inside me." The tattooed Keshvian threw off his robes, revealing leather armor festooned with sheathed daggers. "YOUR DEATH COMES NOW WITCH." He screamed, leaping off the wall towards the pale blond.

When he struck the ground, reality seemed to ripple. The witch no longer sat before them on a horse. Instead, the largest elf Lazar had ever seen stood before the witch-breaker. He was covered in strange eldritch markings, but Lazar knew him and shuddered. Here was death made flesh. A different death than the witch, but death nonetheless. Marius Longinus. Thickly muscled like a human, taller than any man he knew by more than a head. In one hand was his rapier and in the other a smallsword, the newest affectation among the City-Elves. Gasps gave way to silence along the wall as the man was revealed, the illusion shattered. Laz barely noticed the ranks of men revealed by the shattering of the illusion.

"HOW?" screamed the witch-breaker "I SMELLED her. I could TASTE her power. Those markings. A conduit! A cheap trick! Unfair. UNGRACIOUS. Her blood will be mine, Elf. After I tear through you. She is powerless now and will be till the dawn. Even through the conduit I have broken her magic."

Laz watched, transfixed. The witch-breaker was fast, frenetic lightning movements, slashing with daggers that never seemed to land.

Marius was water, flowing around the witch-breaker, sliding away from his attacks and slashing, stabbing, flicking his wrist and leaving a scarlet line here and there, a hole in the leathers that bled dark against the stiffened cuirass.

None could look away. The elf was a master of the dance and where his blades flashed, they found their mark. It took only a few moments for Lazar to register that he was toying with the witch-breaker, prolonging the fight to some purpose of his own.

As Lazar watched men desert the wall he understood. The assassin was buying the men of Gradzlata a window to flee. The boy took the chance, jumping down off the wall onto a nearby wagon, then into the square. Several of his compatriots were now squaring off against the Keshvians occupying the square, who were taking the desertion badly to say the least.

Lazar drew his twin pistols and skirted the perimeter, levelling one and blowing a hole through the skull of a Janissary about to skewer a fleeing Gradzlatan. "This way! To the Inn!" he knew the couple that ran the inn where they met would harbor them.

Heads suddenly turned as over the din came the cacophony of cannon. The dozen massive culverin on the gun emplacements of the Demonska Planina rumbled like thunder, and moments later the wall exploded with the force of the cannonballs hammering it. The wall was from an earlier era. They were built to withstand catapults, but not the shattering force of the duke's prized cannons. From the heights, the range of the cannon could easily clear the distance between the emplacements and the wall, and they did, wrecking the ancient masonry and wreaking havoc on the Janissaries who had not fled the battlements.

Kazimir's dragoons swarmed through the gap, led by Longinus. The elf moved like a force of nature, flowing easily through the crowd, slaying Keshvians and leaving the Gradzlatans. The dragoons were not nearly so discriminate, firing on any and all that remained in the square. Laz knew he had to get to Jad and get out of there. If Niko had any sense, he'd already be hidden away somewhere with that wife of his... he hoped.

******

Kasia sent up the flares with the roar of the cannon. She moved swiftly, leaping from building to building, trying to light each in turn to mark the locations by sight as well as by color.

She knew the dragoons hidden in the abandoned guild houses would need the markers, especially as the Janissaries moved to repel the attack on the wall, and the troops moving in from the south. It felt odd, this sudden patriotism. Was it that she had bought in, been coopted by Simic? Or was it that she understood that the seedy underbelly of the city would inevitably lose all its character under a foreign ruler? That the benign neglect of the warrens and the catacombs beneath the city had given rise, for good or ill, to who she was? And was this the most appropriate time to be so naval gazing?

The petite Half-Elf made her way slowly towards the river, intending to meet Alexi just south of the barricades so they could take the river road to the harbor. As she moved towards the rendezvous point, the house before her exploded, throwing her onto her back. She watched the burning wreckage, then rolled into the street. Perhaps there'd been some powder there, or a rogue mage was to blame. Either way, the way was blocked and she had to find an alternate route.

On the ground the air was thick with smoke from the muskets of the combatants. Visibility was non-existent, and she used that to her advantage, ducking between houses and weaving her way towards Alexi.

She stumbled into a small square, with dragoons and Janissaries fighting around a fountain. Keeping to the side she hoped to go unnoticed, but her pale freckled skin and crimson hair gave away she was no Keshvian. A swarthy giant of a man stepped in front of her, bringing his scimitar down in a swift sweep. She ducked under the blow, then drove a dagger into his inner thigh, a lethal but slow blow as he'd bleed to death but not right now. Indeed, he swung again, his scimitar sliding across her leathers, the stiff material fortunately holding enough to keep her guts in. She felt the terror grip her, but she knew she couldn't freeze. Instead, she came up inside his swing. He grabbed her with his free hand, even as she jammed her dagger up under his tongue just behind his jaw. He let go of her in shock and alarm, and she pulled the dagger free, about to strike again when a cavalry saber lopped his head off from behind.

She crouched, blade in a defensive position, eying the dragoon warily. He spoke a phrase, and in her shock she barely registered it. He repeated it and she gave the countersign, glad Alexi had drilled it into her again and again, though she'd been annoyed at the time.

She did her best not to look at the dead men littered about the cobblestones. She kept her gorge down, but barely. The dragoon nodded to her, gestured down a dark alley, then followed his fellows in another direction.

******

Niko and Miriam gave up any pretense of stealth and ran as the cannons rained hell on the northernmost parts of the neighborhood. Janissaries and Dragoons fought hand to hand and house to house throughout the district. He headed for what he assumed was the empty mason's guild, only to find mounted dragoons boiling out of it, horses thundering through the wider streets here, dragoons firing their carbines from horseback before smashing into fortified positions.

He tugged Miriam down an alley, towards a well he knew was near the southern edge of the neighborhood. If they couldn't get out through the houses there, they could perhaps hide in the well till it was all over. They were fortunate, the small alcove behind the houses that accessed the well were silent, and he reckoned he could break through the shutters of the one to get through the house.

"Where does the water come from?"

"What?"

"Where does the water come from? Aren't there monster filled catacombs beneath the city? There shouldn't be any water."

"It's not something we like to speculate about."

"That's insane how can you not want to speculate about that?"

"What would be insane, my love, is speculating about it right now." He grunted as his dagger found the latch on the shutters and he pushed upwards, opening them and climbing into the house.

"True, but we're going to talk about this later."

She easily followed him into the house. "We should hide here." He nodded a moment, but then thought. "Other deserters might come here though. I think we can make it. The southernmost street is here. The dragoons have probably already swept it, and if they occupy it well. I'll turn myself in. They won't do anything to me. My father is too wealthy and too powerful."

She nodded, though her face betrayed some suspicion. Moving towards the door, he cracked it open and seeing nobody in the street he made his way to one of the southernmost barricades. There was a single man there. He could take a single man, he hoped.

To his right, he noticed a small woman with shockingly red hair make her way out of another nearby alley. They stared at each other a moment, then she was joined by a familiar face. Luka's bodyguard. Fuck. Were they still loyal to the cause? If they were also fleeing south, it was a good bet the answer was no.

He had no chance to find out. Coming at him from the barricade was the familiar form of Luka. "Rasul wants to see you." The boy drew his blade. "Must not keep the master waiting, eh?" there was a manic edge to Luka's words and Niko drew his rapier. "Out of the way Luka. This thing is done. We're taking the pardon. It was madness to think the people would rise for us. A bunch of spoiled rich boys playing politics. This was madness."

"I'm going to gut you, Petrovic. I'm going to gut you and then I'm going to take your wife and give her the fucking you definitely couldn't. You all think you're so fucking amazing. You move through life, thinking that everything you do is gold because you don't understand how everyone paves the way for you. It will be so satisfying to bury my steel in your gut and my cock in your wife."

"The movement was betrayed Luka. Don't let it destroy you. Take the pardon. You have a life and a family waiting for you."

The only answer was a lunge from the smaller man.

******

Lazar made his way to the square holding the powder. He knew it would be the most heavily defended, but he couldn't leave Jad. He found the mage stuffing his voluminous City-Elf coat's many pockets with powder and shot as a dozen Keshvians held off a small force of the duke's men. Jad nodded "Your timing is impeccable young Lazar, for did not Ore.."

Lazar didn't let him finish. "Fuck that guy. Come on we're getting out of here."

Jad laughed "Indeed. Fuck that guy. Fuck all these guys." The young pyromancer fled the square with Lazar in tow. He turned, then spoke an eldritch word, sending a fireball into the square, igniting the powder and blowing everyone in the square to the nine hells. "That should cover our escape."

Lazar marveled a moment at the pillar of fire. Jad had to pull him away. "When the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"Ages ago." The tall mage said "Everything's easy enough, when you're rich." The tall mage led the way, as he always did, towards the inn. They made it to the doors in time to join another group of wealthy younger sons. Jad held the door open for Laz, and as he did a shot rang out from a dragoon's carbine, catching him square in the gut.

He folded, falling to the ground and clutching his stomach. Lazar strode forward, shooting two dragoons dead with the pistols in his hands. Dropping them he drew his saber and engaged the third. The man was good, but Lazar was trained in the Salle by one of the premier fencers of the day. His blade flashed in the light of the burning buildings around, weaving past the soldier's guard to open his throat. He paused a moment; suddenly struck by the fact he'd killed not one but three men. There might be no pardon for him. He turned, running for the door, helping drag Jadranko inside.

The mage was pale, clutching his stomach where the bullet entered. Outside they heard the sound of horses. A moment later, came a cry from outside. "To those in the inn, we only want the treasonous. You good citizens inside will be spared if you send out your armed combatants."

"Is there another way out of here?" Lazar asked the innkeeper, Ivan.

"Through the cellar there's an old entrance into the catacombs. There's anther exit maybe three blocks south. It is... usually... free of anything terrible."

"We will have to chance it. You take Jad through there." He gestured at the other youths as he loaded up his pistols. "I'll hold the door. Leave me another musket, will you?" he moved to Jad's side, intent on taking the bags of powder and shot.

The mage covered Laz's hand with his own bloody fingers. "I'm dying Laz. This is a..." the words came hard "it's a terrible way to die. Gut shot. You need a cleric to fix this, and there won't be any... any for us. They'll be patching up dragoons and prisoners first. They always do after these sorts of things."

"Fuck that. You'll dance on my grave."

"True. I will if I am a prisoner. Then they'll get a cleric to me because they won't want to look over their shoulders for the assassins my family sends for them. It's the only way Laz. I'll go surrender while you make your way out." Jad looked over at the men huddled in the back. Beardless boys younger even than Laz. "You think a one of them ever took a shot Laz? You have to get them to safety. This is bigger than you. I'll be fine."

Laz began to protest, but through some herculean effort, the lanky mage made his way painfully to his feet. "For does not Orestos of Kamagnos say I should eat a shovel full of shit every morning?" he smiled painfully.

"Jad, you fucking asshole." Laz felt the tears rising. He knew the mage wasn't wrong though. The only way the man would live is if they brought him to a cleric. The gut wound would take hours to kill him. It was just a question of resources. There'd be a better chance of them in the prison. "You're... You're a better brother to me than my own flesh and blood. I love you."

"I know. And you can tell me again over a glass of vranac at my next birthday." The mage weaved a bit "Now tell them I'm coming out. I don't think I can shout."

Laz watched through the window, pistol at the ready as the others began slipping out through the basement. Jad walked into the square; his hands raised. Laz could hear him over the distant gunfire "I'm fantastically rich, so there's a reward for anyone who gets me to a healer."

The captain of the dragoons looked him over a moment "We don't have time to take prisoners until the area is secured, and the area won't be secure with any of you fucks in it." Another dragoon smashed Jad in the back with the butt of his musket, driving him to his knees.

Laz almost charged out when he saw Jad raise a hand and wave him off. He held his breath. "One last request? Surely you can give a man a last request before you send him to the gods."

The captain shrugged "long as it doesn't take you all fucking night."

"Go to hell." Jad spoke another word, igniting the powder and shot in his cloak, sending musket balls in every direction, tearing through men and horses and emptying the square of dragoons. Laz screamed himself raw and started to charge through the door when he was grabbed from behind. "There weren't no living through that young sir." Ivan the innkeeper dragged him back from the door with arms used to hauling kegs, tossing him into the cellar like a rag doll. "Don't waste what he did for you."

"For all of us."

"Sure, if that's what you want to believe." The big man held open a section of wall that was usually blocked off with kegs. "Into the catacombs with you."

Numb, Lazar moved into the dark. "It's best you don't carry no light. Just feel along the wall till you get to the grate letting the moon through."

******

Niko squared off against the mad Bogdanovich, parrying his thrust. The boy was vicious, and had clearly been trained not to fence but to kill. Niko had faffed about the salle, having talent but no real instinct for the kill. Now though, he was fighting not for his life but for Miriam's. The world came into laser focus. He had to dispatch Luka before his bodyguard could enter the fray. He probably didn't have what it took to kill the coffee merchant, let alone his trainer.

Luka fought with singular purpose. Economical strikes, defense amounting more to not taking risks than some of the more advanced footwork of the Salle. Now it all came clear, the lessons, the footwork, the 'dancing' he had found as boring as the notion of killing another man. He used it, flowing away from Luka, drawing the smaller man in, taking advantage of his superior reach.

He might not be able to kill the other, but he'd make him pay for it. At this rate, he would be fighting both, he expected. After a few passes, it occurred to him that the bodyguard was simply watching. He relaxed, focusing in on Luka. He parried a series of increasingly desperate strikes, and then with a flick of his wrist disarmed the younger man. "It's over Luka."

"You're a fucking traitor. You told them. That's why you weren't at the wall. You sold us out over a dispute about some Keshvian cunt." The younger man drew a dagger and lunged, Niko brought up his sword and neatly impaled him on it, driving it through Luka's body. He felt the dagger graze along his leathers, and clutched Luka to his chest for a moment, hearing the gurgle of blood in the other man's lungs and then feeling the rattle of his death. He pushed, sliding his sword out and cleaning it.

At that, the two half elves approached. He held up a hand "I intend to take the duke's pardon. If you've an issue with that then let us have at it, but leave my wife. She had no part in this."

The dark-haired elf simply smiled. "Well then you're in good hands, as I am the duke's man."

Niko felt himself deflate. There had been a traitor after all. A traitor that nobody considered because of class. This was a commoner. A hired hand. He was furniture. Even in the session he spent planning with them it was simply assumed that he had the goals of his master.

"It was you. You undid us."

"Us. Really." The half elf gestured to his companion. Simic's creature, he realized now. With her shock of crimson hair and her freckled skin.

"How long has the duke known?"

"For a month. Just in time to get the Ludowy to engage the Keshvian relief fleet. Basically, since that day in the basement."

"And you let this happen? Why not arrest us? Why not... people are dead. There's so much ruin because you waited. What was any of this for? We could have been stopped."

"We needed Rasul. We needed to ensure that the fleet wasn't warned. We needed to send a message to Kesh that Gradzlata is free and always will be. Besides, your father knew. All your fathers knew. They sent their free ships to join the Ludowy as a show of good faith. They could have stopped you and they didn't. That's who you should talk to."

Niko sank to the ground, reeling. The day had been too much. A never-ending cavalcade of highs and lows. He screamed, inarticulate, then sobbed. "Damn you all. None of this had to happen. None of it."

"Only history will judge us, Niko. Not traitors. You haven't earned the right." The man snapped. "Now stand up, and we will escort you to the prison barge and your wife... congratulations, I suppose. She wasn't when we met a month ago and I don't remember hearing that there was any big to do."

"Sea god" Miriam helpfully added. "You know. In case he died tonight."

"Well. Maybe she will wait for you, boy. She seems like a keeper. I'll take her to the Petrovic estates. You can write a letter to your father asking him to look after her while you're in exile. Maybe he even will. Who knows though, as he let you go through with all this. And for what really? Replacing monarchy with oligarchy? Did the duke not bow and scrape sufficiently for your liking?"

"We fought for the people displaced by the University." Niko felt his hand twitch towards his sword and felt better of it.

"No, Niko. Those people have already been paid by Duke Kazimir. The land owners. The renters were never in a position to keep those houses anyway. Now, they all have free land courtesy of the crown. Where was your free land plan?" the man waited a moment "Didn't have one. Got it. Get your ass up boy."

******

The study was dim, the big glass windows that overlooked the vineyard were shuttered against the draft. In the light of the small fire, she studied Simic's face as he contemplated the two hundred platinum coins sitting on the desk. "This is quite a princely sum, Kasia. May I ask how you came by it?"

His fingers ran along the edges of the coins, testing them to see if they'd been clipped no doubt. Simic was no fool. "I put a word in a few ears that the Sewo river was going to resume its normal flooding next year."

Simic, for once in their relationship, looked surprised, then briefly angry, then placid again. He sat back in his chair. "Oh did you now? Are all my secrets at risk with you in my continued employ?"

"Hardly, Mister Simic." She cleared her throat, which was suddenly quite tight. Before he could respond she elaborated. "For one, I didn't learn that from you. I figured it out for myself after I learned that your tale about Maciej was a lie. Once that was apparent, I had to decide why you were selling your grain futures. I concluded it was because they were worth far more money now than they would be. I also discovered you unloaded far more than you sold here, and earlier in the year. You just did it abroad. Kesh mostly."

He steepled his long fingers in front of his sour face "go on."

"I knew this summer. I waited until I was sure you had unloaded all your shares and then I spoke to a few people who were already of the opinion that they'd remained in the game too long. Because I waited to make sure you were not adversely impacted, I got rather less for the information than I might have. I was more confirmation of a suspicion than the bearer of fresh news."

He nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation. "How enterprising of you. With this, and what you've earned from me you're slightly over halfway through your debt. Kazimir, I believe, also wishes to confer a small benefit on you. Not much in the face of the two thousand you still owe me, but enough to afford yourself some pleasantries. I can't say I'm not disappointed. Not with your initiative, but I thought to get a decade of service out of you, and here we are two years in to our relationship and you've already made it past halfway. Do you have plans for when you're free of me?"

"I don't mean to presume Mister Simic, but as of now I'm not planning to be rid of you. I'm planning simply to have the opportunity to be in control of what jobs I do and how much they cost. I..." She paused "I've never belonged anywhere. I don't fool myself into thinking we will ever be friends or peers but here I have a purpose, even if it is to satisfy the inscrutable whims of an oligarch. I never realized how aimless I was, how much chaos in my life was the result of my insisting on complete freedom."

"What makes you think I'll trust you after your debt is paid?"

"Because you know that I'm not a good agent for you over the money. I could leave town tomorrow and not have a care about the debt. I started because I was terrified of your assassin, Longinus. That doesn't change, if I pay you off. Now I stay because it does something for me. That would also be true without my debt." She shrugged and slouched a bit in the chair "And you're not going to have an opportunity like the one that dragged me into your service again. Which means, ultimately, you'll trust me because you have no options. You will convince yourself that staying the course is successful and it will be successful, reinforcing your pre-conceived notions."

Simic laughed, a rare occasion indeed. "Well. I suppose we shall see. What do you intend to do with yourself now? I've nothing for you."

"And just like that I lack purpose again."

Simic rolled his eyes and waved his hand, dismissing her. She paused on the way out, looking back at him poring over ledgers and making calculations, then slipped out into the hallway.

"Someone to see you Ms. Kasia." Pavel's normal disdain was missing from his voice. She perked, hoping she was correct as to the identity of the visitor.

She made her way out to the front of the house. Her eyes adjusted to the bright sun after a moment, and she saw a man in expensively tailored clothes standing in front of a carriage. Black hair and silver eyes, but no beard. She felt her heart skip a beat and she made herself relax. He was probably there to tell her he was going back to Brneca, to disappear again until the crown called him.

Tentatively she walked towards him. "Milord" she offered, snark being her favorite defense.

"Truer than you know. I am now Sir Zajec." He gestured at the small heraldry on his tunic. "With a small estate. Just enough income from it to keep the house up. My days of skulking in the shadows are done, though."

She smiled, feeling a pang, surely now he was going to fuck off into the country, where she couldn't follow. Not because of Simic, but because she found it hard to be away from Gradzlata. Nowhere in the world but here felt like home. "Congratulations. Will you be heading to your estate then?"

"No need. It's rented to some farmers. They will send me the rent every fall and I will leave them be. When I need to be out of town, I will head to my little house in Brneca." He reached for her hand "but everything I need is here. So I doubt I'll find much use for the countryside."

She stepped in, pressing against him for the warmth against the autumn chill. Winter would come early this year. "Who is she? Or he? Should I be jealous?"

He laughed, then tilted her face up to kiss her. "I shaved my fucking beard for her. So it is pretty serious."

"Just when I was getting used to it too. Don't think I could convince you to grow it back?" She grinned, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "I wasn't sure you'd come back. Now that things are over."

"I almost didn't. Kasia... I'm." He seemed uncomfortable and she looked up at him, worrying her lip. "When I die, you'll be younger than I am today. I tried to tell myself that it was better for you if I just left. It IS better for you if I leave. You'll be young for a long time, and I won't be. At some point, you'll find yourself saddled to some old man. But I decided it was time I did something for myself and not for Gradzlata."

"If I am around that long, we can deal with it then. You may hate me in a few years. I might hate you. We can't be afraid to live now because of what might happen. For now though I" She paused, the words she was about to say seemed so fucking foreign they wouldn't pass her lips for a moment. "I love you."

He gently cupped her face with a hand "I appreciate how hard that was for you to say. It's always been too easy for me, which is why I've tried not to say it to you because you deserve for it to be real. I know you have the opposite problem." He brushed her freckled face with a thumb, staring down into her eyes. "and yes. We will have to see what the future brings."

"As long as it occasionally brings threesomes, I think we will be ok."

"For you, my love, I will suffer that indignity."

She took his hand and walked around the carriage, looking over the City. The north wall was in ruins, and some areas of the northern part of the city had burned to the ground in the fighting. It seemed the end of every summer lately ended in spectacular violence. She shuddered, then leaned into him. "What will happen to Niko?"

"His father arranged for him to join the marines."

She looked up "So he what, becomes an officer and learns nothing? He gets a commission when he's a traitor? He should at least be exiled."

"Well look at who's a true patriot these days." Alexi laughed, keeping his arms around her "No. He will not be an officer. He will be an enlisted marine, with a ten-year commitment. There's a strong likelihood that he will die a terrible death at sea. In any event, he will come back different."

She nodded, curling into his embrace. "I hope you're right. Some of those boys will come back with a greater hate for Kazimir than ever."

"And they will be watched. But not by me anymore. Who knows? Perhaps it can be you. Wearing a fabulous green gown as you attend the parties of the rich and famous, married to a knight and all that."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, love. One day at a time."

He wrapped her up in his embrace again, and they stared out over the city below. For a moment, at least, it seemed like forever was possible.