Allie leaned against the banister, looking out over the tournament grounds. Lady Claudia watched from beside her with fond indulgence, letting her get away with the indecorous behavior. She was not the only youth leaning over to take in the rare view from atop the grand thirty-foot tall platform.

  March Shadowgate's platform was a grand construction of wood, a rare and expensive material in Shadow Gate, situated at the heart of the festival. As broad as the main hall of a noble's residence, it provided plenty of room for March Shadowgate, his family, and the steady rotation of nobles invited to attend him each day. Along the railing stood Wizards wearing robes embellished with mystic diagrams. Each offered a view of a festival event as though one stood mere feet away, every one of them using a different method. One had a bucket by his feet from which he created a water lens. Another seemed to flex the very air to achieve the same effect, while another project a scried image upon mist. Another, the smallest of the gatherings, held a sphere of glass that projected an image above it.

  The events the Wizards showed were as varied as the means by which they were displayed. Tumblers danced and frolicked in colorful outfits. Jugglers performed together, throwing everything from balls to knives to bottles trailing flames from their open necks. Youths wrestled, and Allie caught the sulking Shelly grouped with the tittering girls watching that event. The young men were slick with mud as they wrestled in nothing but loin clothes. Shelly had been increasingly bitter at the lack of attention Bert paid her. He would be wrestling today. She wondered if Shelly was watching so she could flatter or commiserate with him later. Maybe she was genuinely interested in her difficult brother.

  The other courtesans were chatting amiably while enjoying the amenities of March Shadowgate's hospitality. Cups of fruit wine were held in fingertips, and they watched a bawdy show put on by one of the city brothels. The 'show' was a display of the talents of the whores and courtesans, all strung together with a vapid story Allie hadn't bothered to follow.

  Auntie and Indu were together, drifting from Wizard to Wizard. Indu was latched on Auntie's arm and snuggled against her side. Auntie had a subtly perplexed look and a slight flush to her cheeks that worried Allie. Either Indu knew what she was doing to Auntie, or she was an oblivious flirt. She squirmed and wriggled against Auntie's side, and leaned in to whisper intimately into Auntie's ear. She didn't think Indu was saying anything inappropriate, she had too much of the wide-eyed excitement of a gawker to her as she watched the tournament. And yet, there was something suspect in just how much she was touching the other woman.

  Allie surreptitiously inspected Auntie. She blushed at the other woman's closeness, and Allie was certain she was enjoying it. Part of her was glad Auntie was enjoying herself, but another part of her was worried. Da had been increasingly distant with Auntie lately, and she was terrified something was about to break. Auntie had joined her lessons with Lady Claudia, and Indu came with her. While Indu took to the lessons admirably for someone raised far from civilization, it was obvious she wasn't there to learn.

  Part of her knew she had to talk to Da about it. The rest of her wanted nothing to do with it. Lady Claudia noticed where her gaze was focused, and watched the pair herself with amused scorn. One of the reasons she didn't want to talk to Da was because she suspected Da wanted this outcome. Talking to Da, or anyone, about planning their own cuckolding was a conversation she never wanted to have. If Da confirmed her suspicions, she might end up yelling at her. Yelling at a god, even if they were family, was… foolish felt too light a word to describe it. She'd end up doing it anyway. After all, people did regularly curse the gods. They just had the good sense to use their epithets while being far from their places of worship.

  Allie left the railing and drifted over to watch the demonstrations from the Orders of Knights currently in residence. This was not just entertainment for the masses to see the might of those who protected them, but it was also a means by which the Orders attracted new talent. In addition to the fighting competition and games the Knights would engage in, there were also events for intended for mortals. Some were for young adults, others for children, where the Knights would watch, looking to recruit promising young warriors or those with other skills. Nor was it only Knights. The Guilds, too, had representatives looking for talent, although they were more likely to host an event rather than participate.

  Currently, a Knight of the Order of Severing Twilight was demonstrating their technique. Even without magnification she could see the world turned to blackness and sunset orange in the distance. There, where the light met the darkens, there was a sense of… The only word she had for it was separation. It was a brief moment, maybe not a second. When the world righted itself, a line of sculptures lost their heads. The Knight's squires dashed out to show off the clean cuts, and the Wizard obligingly closed in to show the clean crosscut.

  Lady Claudia pinched her arm, pulling her attention from a member of the Order of the Cracked Mountains showing how he made a rock into a hail of stone. Lady Claudia was smiling brightly at a Lord and a youth she hadn't noticed approach them.

  "Defender Elderwoods, this is Malcolm Hamilton, Crossroads of the North Province of Shadow Gate, and his son Lord David Hamilton," Lady Claudia introduced.

  Crossroads Northprovince frowned at having to be reintroduced. Allie most likely missed the original introduction, distracted as she was. There were introductions in the morning as well, but no one expected her to remember the many people she had been introduced to. That Lady Claudia was one of the things she envied in the other woman.

  "Yes," he said. "May I borrow your retainer? I believe she would benefit from spending some time with my son."

  Allie understood the implication. He was requesting introducing them for a possible match. Lady Claudia was unhappy, but she gave the barest nod. Not that she needed the prompt. Allie already knew she had to accede to the request. There was no ground to refuse. A woman, likely Crossroads Northprovince's wife, was waiting to sweep in with a pair near her own age once Lady Claudia was drawn away. They had discussed the possibility of such a plot. There was only one outcome. Allie wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that the family had come with both a son and a daughter to introduce her to.

  "Of course, Crossroads Northprovince. I'm sure she would be glad to meet more members of Shadow Gate's nobility. As would I."

  Crossroads Northprovince narrowed his eyes. "Surely you are not so uncouth as to invite yourself along to an attempted match?"

  "My apologies if that is how it sounded. I meant, I would not mind meeting the prospective matches you have arranged for me." She nodded at the waiting youths, who both blushed prettily. Crossroads Northprovince darkened as she let him know she had seen through his plot, but he only bowed and took Lady Claudia away. Finn followed after, keeping near the woman he was hired to accompany, while Mitchell took Lady Claudia's place at her side. She froze a moment at that thought. It was his place by her side that Lady Claudia had usurped.

  "Defender Elderwoods," the woman crooned, gushing at her as she herded her children close. "It is so nice to see you again. You do remember me?"

  Auntie, seeing the interaction, moved over to them, taking up a position to act as a chaperone while offering a polite smile. Indu watched on, keeping quiet as she shifted to 'hide' behind Auntie.

  "Of course I do, Lady Janice. I had not yet met your husband. You were quite fortunate, weren't you?"

  The woman smiled, but her eyes did not. "Have you met the children? Not David, obviously, he's otherwise engaged. As you know. This is Melinda," and the girl in a pretty brocaded tunic trimmed with sparkling accessories curtsied to her deeply, "and Alvin." The boy was nearly a match for his sister. Both had wavy brown hair, toffee skin, dark brown eyes, and amiable expressions completely unlike their parents. She thought they were younger than her, making her wonder why they were being introduced. Originally she assumed Lady Claudia was being introduced to a match to draw her away, but seeing the two presented to her, she wondered if Lady Claudia wasn't the goal. She was a person of some notability, even if she was a member of a branch family.

  "A pleasure to meet you both. Have you eaten yet?" She turned to Auntie. "Lady Anya, is there any more of those savory biscuits with thick cream?"

  "There is, Defender Elderwoods."

  She was a little surprised that the girl was the one to look offended, while the young man perked up at the offer of food.

  "Have you met Lady Anya and Lady Indu, Lady Janice?"

  "I have met Lady Anya, but not Lady Indu."

  "She is a friend of Lady Bringer. The daughter of a god."

  Indu curtsied politely to them, before resuming her place a little behind Auntie. It was propriety that Indu remain behind and to the side of Auntie. It signaled to those watching she was a companion, not a peer. That was important, as mistakes in etiquette and decorum would be overlooked so long as she remained in the background.

  "Oh?! Yes, I had heard rumors, but who puts stock when they hear tell of a daughter of an Elven god at a good March's court?" Allie wanted to frown, but she kept her face impassive.

  Auntie had a frigid smile. She'd been told that she didn't need to be as politic by Lady Claudia. Apparently she had taken it to heart, but she only looked on, adding nothing of her own.

  "I'm not a child," grumbled Lady Melinda, interrupting the verbal slights from Lady Janice and releasing Allie from having to find a polite reply instead of slapping the woman.

  "My apologies, Lady Melinda," Allie said. "I thought you might be younger than I am, and I assure you I'm in many ways still just a girl."

  "You are the Defender! Surely that makes you more than a mere girl," Lady Janice said.

  Allie was amused at the woman's audacity to shift tact so swiftly. "No, I'm still a girl. That's why Lady Bringer's concubine is off running my lands for me, and not me. I'm just not responsible to make such monumental decisions yet."

  There was a moment of coldness as Lady Janice considered Allie. Allie had just discreetly said that she was not able to make major decisions. Or, fundamentally, 'I know you want to trick me into something, and I won't let you'.

  "I see," Lady Janice finally said. "But surely Lady Anya has some authority in your household."

  "I do," Auntie agreed. "I'm allowed to select the pretty servants who work for us." She gave a wide smile, devoid of the salacious implications of her words. That was, until Lady Indu jabbed her.

  Lady Janice still pulled her daughter a little closer while eyeing Auntie. "I see, Lady Anya. That's the extent of your authority?"

  "I have been given permission to slap princesses," Auntie said. Allie struggled to keep in a laugh. Lady Melinda giggled, and even Lord Alvin, who she thought might be younger than she initially assumed, smiled.

  Lady Janice looked dumbfounded. Lady Indu tugged at Auntie's sleeve.

  "Why would you slap a princess?" she asked.

  "Well, when a princess is brazen enough to invite your spouse to watch them dance in private, they are asking for it, don't you think?"

  "Oh, her. I thought she was jester."

  Auntie struggled not to laugh, but Allie shot Indu a warning look. The woman missed it, so she took her arm and pulled her away. "You can't say that," Allie told her.

  "I can't?" Indu asked, nonplussed.

  "You can't. She's a princess of the Empire. Lady Anya can't even say that. She can talk about rebuking the woman, because she had it coming, but public defamation can get us all into trouble."

  Indu frowned, staring at her with her ruby serpent eyes long enough it made her skin crawl. "I want to say I see, but I don't. Why must it all be so complicated with you people?"

  "What do your people do when they feel insulted by someone?" Allie asked. From Da's attitude, she had a guess.

  "Sometimes they got into fistfights, and sometimes they got drunk and sang songs together. I never really understood it."

  "Right. This is the way we keep from getting into fistfights in the first place."

  "Because its barbaric," Lady Indu said.

  "Because fistfights between nobles turn into wars, and that's no good for anyone."

  Indu blinked. "Oh."

  "Yes. I know it all seems unnecessary, stupid, boring, and frustrating, and pointless. It's not. It's all from generations of people trying not to start blood feuds."

  Indu blinked a few more times. "I think I understand? We didn't have armies, or… what did Anya call those hooligans from the other day?"

  "A gang?"

  "That's right. We didn't have gangs. Sometimes we have groups, but it's considered rude to intrude on another man's fight."

  "It is here, too, but the people you send to war aren't really 'another man'. They're there to carry the swords."

  Indu nodded.

  Lady Anya joined them. "Lady Janice is getting annoyed you aren't paying her attention, Allie. And Bridget's fight is about to start."

  Allie sighed at the first part, but perked up at the second. They rejoined Lady Janice, who made a point of ignoring Indu. A signal she would keep silent about the serpent girl's slip of the tongue, which Allie begrudgingly gave her a thankful nod for. Lady Janice grinned, and ushered her children forward.

  Being a woman introduced to siblings, Allie found herself with Lady Melinda on one of her arms as her escort, while Lord Alvin took up her other arm in order to escort her. She felt a momentary pang of discomfort, as she realized she was being sandwiched. Mitchell floated behind her, keeping an eye that hands stayed within propriety, while Lady Janice drew Lady Anya aside with the suggestion that they should give the young people some space.

  "I'm older than you," Lady Melinda said.

  "You are?" Allie asked. "I apologize if I'm broaching a delicate subject, but I would have thought you for twelve winters."

  Lady Melinda grimaced. "I'm fourteen winters. I'm just," Allie heard her teeth grind, "small."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Mum said you should say yer diminuitive," her brother chirped.

  Allie chuckled as the sister leaned forward to glare past her at her brother.

  Criers around the field, watching a man on a signal tower flashing semaphores, announced the next match in the main field. The crier assigned to the March's platform called out just loud enough for all on the platform to hear, "The final regular match of the morning has finished. Next will be an exhibition match between Marshal Bridget Broomknight of the Order of Sweepers, the Order of our esteemed guest, Defender Elderwoods, and Knight Raoul Rudyard of the Order of the Scorching Sun."

  Allie was surprised it was against a member of the Order of the Scorching Sun. They were Knights from the far north and east, where they said the land was made of sand and rock. Where cacti came from.

  She drew the youths with her to claim a spot with a good view by the Wizard who displayed the main tournament grounds.

  Bridget finished her warm-up by hopping in place. Her armor was heavy, a full suit, even though she would be fighting with blunted weapons. It was possible to die in a match, the techniques each side used were often intended to be lethal, but she'd known that when she requested a match. She had promised Lady Bringer she would find an apprentice, and this was the place to do it.

  She still thought her 'relationship' with Sir Stuart should have fulfilled Lady Bringer's request. No, she hadn't seen the man since they parted. But! they traded letters. Granted, she took a week or two to reply, while he'd write her regularly twice a week, but they were conversing regularly. It was just, she never knew what to say. Especially the flowery things he wrote her. She wasn't sure why he compared her to a lily, unless he meant to embarrass her.

  She'd gone to Lady Claudia, the most refined woman in the household, for help. Despite her obvious discomfort dealing with an Elf, the Lady had patiently helped Bridget. Reading it after they were done, Lady Claudia had torn the letter apart, explaining, "He's read letters you've written already, hasn't he? If you send this, he might come to the conclusion you have foisted off letter writing to someone else, rather than making an effort yourself."

  Bridget was frustrated, but at least Lady Claudia had explained why they wrote letters the way they did, so when she went to write one by herself it was a little easier to use 'metaphors'. She thought it came across as childish, but she forced herself to send it.

  Her musings ended when she felt her opponent's regard. The man was dressed in loose, flowing black clothing, covering him from head to toe. Only his eyes were left bare, glaring at her balefully. She gave the man a bow he didn't return.

  "Treacherous Elf filth," the man spat. "Disgraceful! How could any Order of Knights proclaim you their Marshal? This is an insult to the Empire! I will begin the cleansing with you, but your whole stain of an Order will be erased. You and your demon god will be sent to the Hells where you belong!" She was sure if the man's face was not covered, he'd have spat.

  Bridget had expected something like this. She'd accompanied Lady Alison to parties as her bodyguard. More than a few people had been happy to share their opinion of her and Elves, talking to her like a dog that could not speak back. None of them had dared to strike a Marshal of an Order, one whose patron was a petty god. After all, petty gods could be very petty when the mood struck them. Now, though, she was in circumstances where he could freely attack her. She took her stance, her weapon held at low ready.

  "Fortunately," the man said, speaking through her silence, "accidents happen in a tournament. I will be sure to give your master my regards when I return your head to her." The man held up one of his curved swords. "Do you think she will allow me to keep it as a trophy?"

  The official checked that they were ready before calling for their match to begin. Sir Raoul enacted a technique. She didn't know the name of it, but the field began to heat up. At first, it was barely noticeable, but soon the cool earth steamed. Mist shrouded the field, followed by a heat haze she only ever saw in the height of summer. This felt like an aura power. The man himself visibly glowed, and she was uncertain if he had enacted a new technique, or if it was a side effect.

  The man gestured up, and Bridget was startled to see that the sun shone bright in the overcast sky. There was even a drizzle of hot rain.

  Bridget used [Wind Walk] to give herself a moment's relief from the growing heat. Yet, it was only brief, as she reappeared in the field well away from where she had started. The man still faced her, intense eyes fixed on her. The entire field felt like it was under the midsummer sun. The grass of the field began to visibly wither and dry.

  The Knight kept his guard up, and she felt him trigger another technique. In the shimmering heat, his glowing form flickered, melted, and split. Four men stood where one had before. Shrieking a high-pitched war cry, all four split up and charged her from different directions.

  She speared one man, but he turned out to be insubstantial. In the stories, an illusion disbursed when struck. That didn't happen. The illusory figure danced back while another attacked, so that she lost track of which she already knew were illusions. A successful slash at her arm, deflected by the armor she wore, told her where the man truly was. Only, when she thrust the butt of her spear, he distorted and stretched before dancing away to be lost among the other images.

  Two came at her together, their swords flashing at her from opposite directions. [Wind Armor] attempted to deflect both blades, but neither had substance. The man had slipped into her blind spot, and his blade came at her neck while the crowd roared.

  The illusions faded away, his technique having run its course.

  Bridget ducked the strike, reversed her hold on the spear so it dug into the ground, and vaulted into a kick that landed solidly. He let out a loud gasp as he was tossed back from her, and Bridget followed through, twirling herself and her spear to recover her stance before taking a step towards the man.

  The man evaded her strike, moving fluidly out of the way while his swords dove for openings in her spear technique. Her spear deflected the strikes, while the man was driven back until she was no longer in his reach. He burst into light, the brilliance blinding her.

  Instinct born from long hours of training had her flashing across the field using [Wind Walk]. Reflexively she struck out with [Buffeting Winds], a technique that allowed her to use the wind to strike and jostle her opponent. She heard the man cursing as one of the modest blows landed.

  She stepped with her technique to strike the man, who deflected her attack and managed to land a blow while she was still blinded. Her ears were sharp, but she couldn't hear a man punching.

  The man was slashing at her again, and she felt his strike hit her spear and prepared to strike back when she heard a scream. She knew that voice. Without a moment's hesitation, she [Wind Walk]ed away from the field. She could hear the man's scorn as he cursed for fleeing. The scream took precedence. She appeared before Lady Alison, ready to defend her.

  Allie watched the fight while the man wearing the insignia of the Order of Severing Twilight described the techniques being put on display. The Scorching Sun's techniques were intended for taking advantage of their native lands, the desert and the hot blue grass plains north of the Inland Sea. Their techniques were affinities of the sun, a mixture of heat and light. She was frowning as Sir Bridget fought at a disadvantage.

  She didn't know why she turned her head at that moment, but something drew her eyes in time to see one of her Knight's throats being slit open by a nondescript servant. A long knife easily parted the woman's throat, leaving her grasping at the wound even as she drew a sword to strike the servant. The other Knight noticed the servant creeping up on him, and with a [Wind Walk] step appeared behind the servant to strike him dead with a blow to the head.

  One of the guardian spirits began to form, his power pulsing as he readied to save the life of the dying Knight, but he disappeared in a puff as a servant brandished a formation etched into wood. The gem upon it glowed with the captured guardian spirits power.

  Reflexively, Allie pulled the two young nobles close to her while the other Knights on the platform sprung into action as more servants bore knives and daggers. A flaming spear nearly scorched her hair as one of the Knights struck down a servant lunging at her.

  Auntie threw herself onto another assassin coming from the other direction. A strange serpentine monster followed after, a feathered knife like the one Da had in hand as it struck a servant with a precise stab in the back.

  Lady Melinda leapt onto Allie's shoulders, throwing her off balance and teetering to the railing and nearly toppling them off.

  "You're going to die, heathen," she hissed into her ear.

  Allie struggled to keep from falling over the edge, her hands bracing against the railing. She hooked a foot around the balustrade, while Lady Melinda leapt over the side. Failing to bring Allie over the side with her, she braced her feet against the railing to pull her over the edge.

  Unable to drag Allie off the platform, Lady Melinda grinned up at her. The bust of her tunic burst open, exposing a thin arm with three knobby knuckled fingers. Each ended with thick dagger-like nails. The hand struck at her, attempting to pierce her chest. Allie squirmed away, but the flailing limb got a grip of her hair and pulled hard.

  Allie panicked and screamed. Her eyes sought Lord Alvin, who watched with horror as his sister attempted to murder someone by suicide. Allie's fingers slipped from her purchase. Lady Claudia was at her side, sporting a long-bladed knife with a sharp tip. She hacked at Allie's hair while Lord Alvin took hold of her, helping to keep her on the platform.

  As Allie's hair was hacked off, Sir Bridget appeared in a burst of wind above them, diving into Lady Melinda spear tip first, her legs wrapped around the spear. Lady Melinda's grip was ripped off her, taking some of Allie's hair with her, as she fell without a sound of complaint. Lady Janice screamed as her daughter fell. The people crowded under the platform scattering at the sounds of combat.

  Allie looked over the balcony, to see the young woman stand up shakily, blood pouring from the wound in her shoulder. She looked up at them, a manic smile on her face. Her thirid hand lifted, and Allie ducked away from the edge of the platform. The world changed, shadows disappearing as it turned to a world of darkness and amber light, after which the banister and balustrade split apart. That was the same technique the Knights of the Severing Twilight had used. Lord Alvin, who had been staring down at his sister, screamed, as he fell over the edge of the platform with the railing, leaving behind his still standing shins.

  Lady Janice screamed in horror at the scene, her face pale before she fainted. The rebellious servants had been killed, and Allie could hear fighting below as Knights descended upon Lady Melinda.

  Crossroads Northprovince was walking towards the remains of his son, staring at the legs, before he looked over the edge. "He's still alive!" he shouted at the Knights circling him, their spears lowered threateningly. He looked at Allie, his eyes pleading with her. "Please. He's my son."

  Allie turned to address a Healer on the platform, but he was busy checking on Lady Janice even as the Knights took her into custody. Sir Paola, the Knight whose throat had been slit, had already perished. She felt tightness in her chest, and she almost told him 'no'. But there were answers to be had… and that was when she realized what had happened. Someone had tried to assassinate her.

  "Auntie, can you try to help Lord Alvin if no one else is?" Allie asked. Lady Claudia stood at her side, her eyes hard as she warily watched those around them.

  "Yes, of course," Auntie said as she looked at the toppled legs. She took the shins and hurried to the stairs down. Her guardian spirit, in the form of an old soldier, grimly led the way, ensuring the way would be safe.

  "We should be evacuating, Defender Elderwoods," Lady Claudia chastised quietly.

  "We're down a Knight, and the crowds are thick. Sir Bridget will be able to take us away one at a time, but she can't go as far as Lady Illwind."

  Lady Claudia blinked, and then turned to look at her contemplatively. "You are keeping your head quite admirably."

  "I'll scream and cry later," Allie promised her. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep tonight."

  Lady Claudia gave her a sad smile. Then she frowned. "Do you know who was trying to kill you?"

  "I think it's a message for Da. She called me a heathen." Her brows furrowed. "It's strange, though. She was Awakened."

  "She shouldn't've been," said a Knight. He kept his distance, her remaining bodyguard between her and him.

  "I'm Sir Brandon. March Shadowgate is sending Knights to escort you to your rooms and supplement your guards. Are you alright, Defender Elderwoods?"

  "I'm alive," Allie said. She looked around. "I don't think I'll be fine." Color drained from her face. "Send someone to check on my brother. He's participating in the wrestling matches."

  "March Shadowgate has already dispatched someone, Defender Elderwoods. He promises you he will be kept safe."

  "Where's Lady Indu?" Allie asked. The serpent monster was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. Now that she had time to think, she suspected it was Lady Indu's 'true form'.

  A spectral form lowered before her, it's face of indeterminate age and gender. "She has discorporated, and will meet us at the apartments. She may need Lady Bringer's help reforming her body."

  Allie nodded her head, and waited for the Knights to assemble before following them down the stairs. Criers were sending out a message, while March Shadowgate stood over a captured servant, watching as he was questioned.

  Allie made sure to collect the crystal with the captured guardian spirit within it.

  Anya felt cold. Indu had killed a man who was going to kill Allie, and she was thankful for that, but one of the Knights had struck her down. She knew the woman wasn't dead… or, rather, no more dead than she had been, but watching her body puff into mana smoke had left her unsettled. Yes, she had been a Monster at the time. It was the first time she had seen the form, but she had felt no threat from it. Instead, it was… she put it out of her mind for now.

  Lord Alvin was surrounded by Knights and soldiers. A few held their spears on him, while others kept an eye out for further attackers. One of the Knights knew her, and barred her from approaching.

  "I'm here to make sure he doesn't die," Anya told him.

  "Pardon my rudeness, but it ain't your concern," the Knight said. His tone was more deferential than his words.

  "It is. He was under my daughter's care when he was attacked. That obligates me to see to his well-being."

  "His sister tried to kill your daughter," the Knight noted.

  "And he helped keep her from getting pulled off the platform. We'll worry about blame and remuneration later, but it will simplify things if he's able to testify rather than become another body."

  The Knight opened his mouth to speak, when a retainer of March Shadowgate appeared. "Let her do as she pleases, Sir Manus."

  The Knight paused at the order, considering the retainer. "I was doing it to protect her," he grumbled even as he stood aside.

  The boy had not fared well. Anya lacked her techniques from her time as a Healer, but she still had her education. She triaged the boy's wounds. Fortunately, the fall hadn't resulted in a head injury, although his arms were bruised and scraped. His legs had been cauterized by the technique, but not as cleanly as they had been severed.

  "Can you help me?" Anya asked the apparition trailing her. It had faded from view, but remained ready to intercede.

  I cannot, Lady Anya. I lack the strength. Lady Bringer brought most of her power with her.

  Anya grimaced. She checked her bag, and pulled out a packet of tranquilizer. She split the packet in half, the boy too small to survive a full dose, and she mixed it with water before making the stunned boy drink it.

  Once the boy was drowsy, she checked the severed limbs again. "I need to apply a tourniquet," she decided.

  Her guardian spirit, Captain Jefferson, looked on quietly as she struggled to save the noble youth. I can give you the technique. It may have a cost. I think you would use it better than I.

  Anya continued working. "What technique?" Anya asked.

  False flesh.

  Anya paused a moment. "What does it do?"

  It is how we allow fighters to continue to fight with grave injuries. The patches of magical thrall flesh we apply to seal wounds.

  "What will it cost me?" Anya asked as she finished the tourniquet. The child had lost too much blood. His face was pallid, and his breathing ragged. The tranquilizer had kept him from going into a panic, but it might have taxed his body too much. Almost everything was poison to a weakened body.

  I cannot say. It is a feeling. Perhaps it is because you will gain power from a god, and a cost must be paid?

  Anya nodded her head. The boy was dying. There was no doubt about that. The false flesh was likely not enough. He needed blood, not flesh. Yet, a thrall had blood. She had seen Indu bleed before her body failed.

  "Is a Healer coming?" Anya asked the watching Knight and retainer.

  "They are still attending to Lady Janice," the retainer said.

  "Lady Melinda?"

  "Dead," said the Knight. "We took her head to be sure." He looked around. "Doesn't Lady Bringer have someone around to make sure?"

  She glanced at Captain Jefferson, who remained invisible to their eyes. I do not see a Guide, Lady Anya.

  "I don't think so. Is Defender Elderwoods secured?"

  "You are the only one not on your way to your room."

  "I'll take it," Anya said to the guardian spirit. It might be a bad idea, but she would regret it if she didn't.

  The guardian spirit touched her. For a moment, she felt something akin to stories of possession. Of seeing your body act without controlling it. It was also like using a technique gem. She could see the technique in her mind's eye, and she reflexively traced the pattern into her damaged mana pool. It had healed, but it was so much less than it had once been. As she inscribed the technique into her mana pool, she made small changes, working the techniques she had once known into it. She felt a stab of fear that she was making a mistake, but instinct and experience told her this was right.

  She exercised the technique, and it twisted and settled. It was different from her healing techniques, which allowed her to inspect and fix the body. This allowed her to find and replace parts. The differences between it and her old techniques were obvious. It was the difference between encouraging the body to heal itself, and giving the body a prosthetic to work with. However, she knew what the prosthetic should look like, and so it conformed to her demands. The problem was that blood was deceptively simple. Muscle was easy, as once you knew what it did and how, it became little more than machinery. Blood did many things, and most speculated even healers only knew the tenth of its functions. She gave it the attributes she needed it to, and watched as color returned to the boy's face. He would still need a Healer, or at least time to heal, but for the moment he was safe.

  Anya heard a cry of surprise. Lifting her head to look, she saw a soldier toss Lady Melinda's head aside while skittering back. Another man, wielding a war hammer, jogged over to slam the head hard. The head of the hammer bounced off, the Knight cursing as he almost lost hold of the haft.

  Then Anya caught sight of Lady Melinda's body making its way back to its feet, headless. The pretty tunic was shredded and bloodied, her body scored with cuts, burns, and scouring. It shambled and stumbled, twisting brokenly as it sought its head once more. Hands reached out to grasp it, tripping and falling over instead. The Knight's resumed their attacks. The body, already brutalized, was torn asunder. Taking no chances, the third arm was removed and disjointed as if by inexpert butchers. Lady Melinda's still smiling head was stuffed into a sack, where it begged piteously to be released.

  "Deliver that thing to Lady Bringer," Anya commanded the Knights. They all turned to look at her. Some were surprised to see her still there. Others looked dubious at her command. "That thing didn't die when you killed it. That makes it Lady Bringer's affair."

  None could argue her logic.