Lifting the metal pitcher above the cast-iron pot, Eue-Lysae fills it with water and activates the burner—Morziwayn had asked for tea, and she had agreed to make it.

  “How long do you intend on staying for?” She asks Morziwayn from the kitchen.

  “I’m not sure.” Turning to face the kitchen, Morziwayn places her knees on the couch cushion and rests her head on the back of the couch. “Faerthryne is going to be here for a year, and I don’t have any reason to go to my cottage, so I might stay here for a bit.”

  Eue-Lysae walks over to the archway and leans against the wooden beam. “Do you have any plans for lodgings?”

  “I figured I could just stay here with you.” Morziwayn responds, but the look on Gyrshke’s face tells her that this will not be happening.

  Shifting her position against the beam slightly, Eue-Lysae lines the center of her back up with the corner of the beam and starts scratching her back. “As much as I love your company, I would like my bed back soon. I’m sure Gekaryna would be happy to house you.”

  Morziwayn looks straight into Gyrshke’s eyes and pouts. “So you’re kicking me out?” She knows such an arrangement will not work and is perfectly content staying with Gekaryna—the food will be better and the meals will be bigger—but it’s worth trying to get a laugh.

  “Yes, I am, but you are welcome to visit at any time.” She pauses. “That face won’t work on me.” ?ppolonia, when she first became a priestess, would try to get out of chores by making a similar expression.

  Before Morziwayn gets an opportunity to respond, there is a knock at the door.

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for my daughter.” Ill?c says.

  Eue-Lysae turns, going back into the kitchen to move the now boiling water from the element, not wanting it to boil over.

  Recognizing the voice, Morziwayn scurries onto the stairs.

  “Morziwayn, can you answer that?” Eue-Lysae asks, unaware of Morziwayn’s reaction.

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  A sharp crack echoes throughout the common room as Ill?c, now knowing where his target is, starts chopping at the door with his axe.

  “It’s the father!” Morziwayn shrieks, hoping to warn Gyrshke, more concerned for her safety than her own.

  Eue-Lysae’s eyes flick to Morziwayn, cowering on the stairs. The water—scald him with the water, then beat him with the pot. He will kill both of you if you don’t do something; the Watchmen won’t get here in time. Heeding Luhnylla’s advice, she carefully takes the pot by its wooden handle.

  The axe breaks through the door, and wooden splinters go skittering across the hardwood flooring. “I knew you weren’t dead.” Ill?c hisses as he readies the axe again. “I walked fifteen kilometers down that river and found nothing. I knew you were still alive, you whore.” The hole slowly gets bigger.

  Eue-Lysae, steam coming from the pot of boiling water in her hand, makes her way over to the door and puts her back against the wall on the other side of the doorframe. The hole gets bigger—Eue-Lysae readies the pot just below it.

  Ill?c sticks his hand through the hole and tries to find the knob; unable to, he tries to wedge his face in the hole to see where it is.

  The assailant’s red nose appears through the hole. As fast as she can, Eue-Lysae brings the pot up, splashing the boiling water against the man’s face. With a scream, she hears the axe drop to the ground next to the door.

  Throwing open the door, she dashes out into the hall, just in time to watch the man fall onto his back, clutching at his face. Taking advantage of the situation, she gets on top of him. With all the strength she can muster, she brings the pot down on the man's hand-covered face. After five strikes, he moves a hand away, reaching toward the axe. She brings the rounded bottom corner down on the man's exposed cheek—finally seeing what looks to be blood.

  Unable to retrieve his axe, Ill?c rolls his fingers into a fist. He blindly swings at the woman on top of him, striking her just between the jaw and the ear, knocking her off him, and sending her sprawling across the floor. Standing as fast as he can, he stands and staggers towards his axe.

  Disoriented and with her ear ringing from the blow, Eue-Lysae struggles to get to her feet. She rolls onto her back and begins pushing herself away as the man, still clutching his face with one hand, retrieves his axe.

  Ill?c makes his way over to the woman clad in the white dress. He can find Morziwayn after she’s dead.

  A greatsword made of a spectral blue light manifests above Ill?c.

  “No!” Eue-Lysae yells.

  The blade vanishes instantly.

  Morziwayn runs out of the common room. Jumping onto this body's father’s back, she places her good hand on his cold cheeks. “In the name of Myrerah, I return you to the earth. May she judge you kinder than I have.”

  Eue-Lysae, still pushing her way ever so slightly backwards down the hall, watches in horror as the maniac’s bodily functions hasten; his burnt face grows gaunt as dehydration rapidly sets in.

  Dead, Ill?c collapses forward onto the carpeted hallway, sending Morziwayn rolling to Eue-Lysae’s feet.