S4 Bonus Episode

Most people will never have an adventure

At the mere sight of trouble their arms go up in surrender

Some just want to live quiet lives

And who can blame them in these troubling times

Some bite off more than they can chew

And in pursuit of a meal end up in a stew

But some know adventure like a close friend

And they’ve made up their minds, to never see them again

The wheels of the old cart rumbled and crunched their way along the dry, dirt road. It had been seven days since rain, as told by the patches of yellowing grass whispering in the wind on the roadside. Caramel, the donkey, would occasionally nibble at these clumps, swallowing one or two mouthfuls before Doran could pull her away. They were both thirsty, and Doran knew that the dry grass would only upset her stomach in the long run. It had been a foolish decision to travel during the heat of the day, but these were dangerous roads and Doran would always choose thirst over thieves. Besides, he had a little water left in his skin and if he was not mistaken, this particular road led down to a lake. There was a town there. More of a hamlet really. He’d been once before, what was it? Eight? No. Eleven years ago now. Doran shook his head and chuckled to himself. She was a cheeky thief; the road. Stealing time out from under him in the most pleasant and charming of ways.

He looked over his shoulder quickly out of habit to check on his belongings. The dust sheet covered most of them and he worried that his bread might spoil in the heat. Caramel brayed suddenly as the hill began to incline.

“Come now stop with your complaining. This one’s no bigger than the last. Just a few more and you’ll have a nice drink and some oats, I promise. There might even be an apple waiting for you if you’re good.” His words seemed to work and Caramel kept on, trotting calmly forwards up and over this newest peak.

Thankfully, once they reached the crest, the lake came into view. Doran thanked his memory and smiled at the scene. The sun sparkled on the surface of the lake in a million dancing lights. A breeze blew through the grass and Doran’s eyes were drawn up, across the lake to the mountains beyond. Their peaks still capped with defiant snow, they stood taller than any building, loftier than any dream. Even Caramel seemed to pause in awe at their beauty, although Doran suspected it was more likely due to wanting a rest after climbing the little hill. He’d seen these mountains before of course, but each time he came back to this part of the world, they astonished him all over again, like a work of fine art hanging in a room that one just can’t seem to get tired of staring at. The hamlet was there too, down at the base of the hill. Doran spied the little wooden rooftops and the gleaming white dome of the church. Although his memory had led him here sure enough, it couldn’t quite bring itself to recall the name of this place. Fanning? Fontly? He couldn’t be sure. He took the reins up and with a flick of his wrists Caramel complained and started walking again, clip clopping her way down the winding road. It was days like this that reminded Doran of all the sweetness that travelling life could bring. The road, a lake, the mountains and the sun, the sun, the sun.

You can never be sure how a town will greet a stranger. Some are told to believe that strangers are enemies, coming to steal your livelihoods and cart them off back to where they came from. Their citizens look at strangers with fear and mistrust in their eyes, seeing every bit of difference as evidence of some invented crime. Other towns, the nicer ones, see strangers and new friends. They welcome them into their homes and around their hearths, pressing them for stories in exchange for cakes and local delicacies. Doran seemed to recall that this place fell into the latter category and so he was sure to wear his broadest smile as Caramel trundled in the main thoroughfare. It was not a big place, although it had had a few more buildings added to the edges since the last time he was here. As the cart wheels hit the paving stones and their chorus changed from crunching stones to creaking wood Doran looked up and around expectantly. The buildings here were little more than shacks, although most were painted quite beautifully in pastel colours of lilac and light blues. Each had a little porch to raise it off the ground for when Autumnal floods filled the streets and folk would go about on little boats. It smelled of fish. Predictable for a fishing village, but thankfully it was not that kind of rotting fish you smelled in big city markets. This fish was fresh and alive and wriggling only recently. Doran glanced into windows and down little alleyways. He had expected to see a few people at least but right now there didn’t seem to be anyone about.

Odd, he thought. Perhaps they were all at Church or out on the lake.

He guided the cart down ever narrowing streets until he found the inn that he remembered. It was the Hamlet’s only boarding house and it also doubled as the legal offices, the meeting house and the guard station. If anyone was going to be anywhere it would be here, at the Golden Cat. Doran tied up Caramel, brushed, fed and watered her and then, after still not seeing any signs of activity, entered the inn.

It was dim inside, a single streak of sunlight illuminating the flecks of dust in the air. There were chairs tucked neatly into tables, cups cleaned and put away on shelves. Doran’s footsteps thudded on the floorboards, they sounded rude, like they were disturbing some meditative silence. He walked slowly around the room, more confused than ever. There were no signs of a struggle, no smashed glasses or broken tables. It looked as though everything had just been cleaned and readied for the next day of business, but that day had never come. He approached the small stage at the back of the room. A lute was propped up against the wall there, ready and waiting to be played. Doran scratched his head. Surely someone will be back any minute? The door was not locked after all and judging by the lack of dust on the surfaces the place had not been left empty long. After a quick tour of the upstairs where he saw perfectly made beds, a clean washroom and several tidy closets he went back outside.

As he stepped back into the sun he was considering checking the food stores in the kitchen, but thought he’d better wait just a while longer, in case everyone got back within the hour. He glanced down the road towards the church and was about to go and look inside when, for the first time since arriving, he saw movement. His breath caught in his throat. Had he imagined it? No, something had been over by that yellow house, it had seen him and then ducked away quickly. Doran took a tentative step down onto street level.

“Hello there?” he called out. Fear caused his voice to crack a little. This whole situation was too strange. Surely there was some kind of logical explanation. Perhaps whoever, or whatever, had moved just now was the key to unlocking this local mystery. Doran took a few steps forward and considered calling out again. Caramel suddenly sneezed, causing Doran to nearly jump out of his skin. He chuckled at his own fright. “Come now Mikhail, jumping at sneezes. You old fool. Be sure it's nothing. ‘Lo there? I saw you just now. Could ye come out? I swear I mean no harm. Just an old traveller looking for a day or two’s rest.” He took another few steps towards the yellow house, more confident now than before.

As he peered into the gloom of the alley, although alley was a generous term for what was just a gap between two houses, he saw movement again. There was something small there, shuffling around in the gloom. At first Doran thought it might be a cat and was about to turn and walk away when he saw its dirt stained face and tousled hair.

“Ooh, good morning child. Ye can come out from there, I promise I wish ye no hurt.” The urchin’s face did not move, it just stared at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. Suddenly, Doran had a flash of inspiration. He walked back to his cart and rummaged around under the dust sheet. “I swear it was here the other… ah! Here we go.” He turned back to the alley and held up the toy he’d gone to fetch. It was a doll, made from bits of cloth. Its round, button-eyed face smiled brightly in the light. Doran shook it a little, making its hair and arms dance gleefully. The child’s expression barely changed but upon seeing the doll it took a few steps forward. As it stepped into the street, Doran had trouble telling if it was a girl or a boy. Its hair was matted and dirty, it wore a little red shirt and grey trousers, done up with a button. It wore no shoes or socks but seemed confident in its ability to walk. Doran guessed it was about six years old.

“Here, little one. Take it. I’ve no need for him.” The child stepped tentatively forward and held out its arms to take the doll. It smiled up at Doran and his heart melted just a little.

“It’s not a him,” the child spoke quickly as it examined the intricate pattern of leaves and flowers on the doll’s body, “it’s a little girl.”

“Why, so it is,” replied Doran, “Silly me. A little girl. Just like you eh?” The child smiled and nodded. “And tell me, what are these little girl’s names?”

“My name is Elski, I don’t know her name though.” The girl held up the doll. Doran had many questions but he knew that he would need to gain this little one’s trust before bombarding her with all of them. He crouched down beside her and smiled.

“Well you know, I’m very good at coming up with names, perhaps we can come up with one together, hm?” the girl nodded. “My name is Mikhail Doran, everyone just calls me Doran and over there is Caramel.” The girl’s head whipped round on a swivel.

“A donkey!” Doran laughed.

“Yes! And as stubborn as they come. Would you like to meet her?” They went over to where Caramel was tied up and the little girl giggled as she held her hand out for the old donkey to sniff.

“Here!” said Doran, “I might have something you can give her.” He reached into a small sack in the cart and found a bit of old carrot. “There you go,” he said, handing it to Elski, “give her that and she’ll love you forever.” The girl clutched the doll tightly to her chest and took the lump of carrot. She turned slowly to the donkey and paused, staring at the vegetable in her hand. “Go on,” Doran urged her, seeing that she was nervous, “She doesn’t bite.” Elski stepped forward but still didn’t hold out her hand. Instead, she waited, and then turned back to Doran.

“Can I have some?” The question hit Doran like a pack of wild horses. Of course she was starving. How had he not even considered it? He berated himself and then responded.

“Ooh, you don’t want that. I’ve got something much nicer in here for you. Give that to Caramel and you can have some lunch with me alright?” Elski’s face lit up and she practically ran up to Caramel, who, had it not been for the carrot, might have startled at her pace.

Half an hour later, with some bread, cheese, dried spiced meats and an apple in their bellies, the two unlikely friends were sitting in silence on the front step of The Golden Cat. Elski’s eyes were beginning to dip, tired from the day’s heat and a full stomach. Doran only had a few minutes before she would be fast asleep.

“Elski?” he ventured. The little girl looked up at him, bringing her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun behind Doran’s head. “Might you be able to tell me where everybody has gone?” Elski looked back down at the ground. Doran had feared this reaction, clearly some tragedy had happened and she was getting upset at the memory. Doran readied his most comforting words when she replied.

“They’re trying to go to The Garden.” Doran faltered.

“The Garden?” He repeated, unsure of what she meant. After Elski didn’t elaborate, he followed up with, “and how are they doing that?”

“They’re praying.”

“Ah!” Doran sighed in understanding. He glanced back down the road at the church. A wave of relief washed over him. Thank the stories he thought to himself. They’re all at church service. Admittedly, it was a rather long service, he’d been in town for the better part of an hour, but at least they were alive. “That’s good. And everyone is there eh? What time do you think they’ll be finished?” Elski waited a moment before replying.

“It’s not good. I hate praying.” Doran smiled. He was remembering his own childhood church visits, he would get bored as well and often got into trouble after playing pew games with the other children.

“Ooh it’s not so bad. Sometimes it's nice to ask for things, or wish a friend well. You’re saying you have nothing that you would pray for?” Elski scrunched up her face in thought.

“I would pray for everyone to stop praying.” Doran chuckled, then he slapped his knees and stood up. He groaned as he pushed himself up and off the step. His back dealt badly with long cart rides these days.

“Well I shall see if I cannot be the one to answer your prayers Elski. Hold here and look after Caramel won’t ye?” He smiled at the child and set off towards the church.

As he walked along the dry stones he began to have doubts about interrupting a religious service. Each community handled religious practices in their own particular interpretation. Perhaps this town valued silence and meditation and having a stranger interrupt that time would grant him no friends. Doran shook these doubts out of his head. He’d given the community plenty of time, any more and he would have to sign papers to become Elski’s legal guardian. Besides, Caramel needed a stable and he needed a rest and some clean water.

Doran walked up to the church double doors, old sturdy structures made from local pine, and listened out for signs of activity. He was hoping to interrupt during a natural break in the service but could hear nothing from inside. Shrugging, he placed both dust stained hands on the doors and pushed.

A large hall opened up in front of him. Its domed ceiling stretched two houses high. The architecture told him this was an imperial church, possibly one of the first to be built during the reformation considering its age and proximity to the capitol. Stone cut vines guided the eye down to cleverly crafted parapets made from wood but built in seamlessly to the stonework. The pews were made from the same wood and were laid out in neat rows. Doran thought there must be at least a hundred, maybe more considering the distance to the altar.

As he had suspected, every seat was occupied. Elski might have fit in somewhere, but it would have been a tight squeeze. Despite the sound of the door opening, which reverberated off the stone walls, no one looked round to greet him. Doran put on his most charming smile and was ready to excuse himself and bow and beg forgiveness for the interruption, but no one even glanced in his direction. They all had their heads down, their eyes closed and their hands clasped together in prayer. Everyone’s fingers were interlocked to make one tight fist. Doran saw a few people gripping their hands so hard that their knuckles were white from the strain. There was a low whisper humming throughout the hall. Everyone was muttering some phrase or personal prayer. Doran couldn’t catch any specific words.

The strangest thing was, that there didn’t seem to be anyone leading the service. The altar had the traditional branch and veil but no one stood in front of it as was usual in imperial church services. Perhaps this was one of the idiosyncrasies of this particular town. Self governed and self guided, Doran had heard of something similar years ago.

He decided to approach a young woman who was seated to his left. Tiptoeing carefully so as to not disturb the rest of the congregation, Doran approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. She wore a blue dress, the hem of which was stained brown with dust. Her shawl looked old and was peppered with grey green blotches. Her hair was tied up in a bun but several strands had broken free as if trying to escape the heat of the mass. When Doran touched her she jerked with shock as if awakening from a deep sleep.

“So sorry Madam, I didn’t mean to scare or disturb you,” Doran whispered. When she turned her face to look up at him, Doran had to suppress his reaction. Her eyes were lined with dark circles and looked as though they were sinking into her head. Her lips were pale and when she spoke, Doran caught sight of yellowing teeth and bright red gums. Her hands shook and when she spoke her voice came out as a thin rasp.

“What? Who are you? Where is…?” She seemed visibly confused to Doran and so he tried to comfort her.

“I’m a traveller mam, a friend to your town. I don’t mean to interrupt but I would like to enquire about fresh water or a bed for the night? Who might I speak to?” As he waited for an answer the woman seemed to notice her hands for the first time.

“Curses…”

“Excuse me, mam?” Doran was confused.

“My prayers, I must… I must go back to my prayers. I…” Doran felt a pang of guilt as he watched tears well up in the corner of her eyes. “If I stop then I might not be considered. I swear I didn’t mean to, I was interrupted. Please, hear me, hear my devotion, I swear I did not mean to falter in my faith.” By now she had gone back to clasping her hands tightly and closing her eyes, forcing the tears gathered there to fall onto her whitening knuckles. Doran stepped back in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I did not mean to falter, I swear…” her voice was becoming more and more panicked. Doran considered touching her shoulder again to try and console her, surely no deity would condemn a follower for helping a man in need? He wanted to explain this to her but his attention was drawn to the front of the room. A man was standing up there and pointing at him.

“You there!” he exclaimed, “what is your business?” Several of the other worshippers looked up at the interruption, but most kept their heads bowed and their mouths unceasing. Doran raised his hands in front of him in what he hoped to be a calming gesture.

“My apologies, sir. I mean no disrespect. I’ve come from away, a traveller. I seek fresh water and a place to stay and then I’ll be on my way. I’d gladly work or pay for the kindness.” Doran held his breath, hoping his words might assuage the man’s obvious irritation, but they did no good. The man, who was similarly dressed in worn looking clothes and had that same sallow look about him as the woman he’d just spoken to, continued to glower at him with real hatred in his eyes.

“An outsider,” he said.

“Aye sir,” Doran confirmed, “but a kind one, if perhaps a little dirty...” Before he could finish the full thought, the man interrupted him.

“We heed no apostates here. You are among the pious, sir.” Doran was thrown further into confusion.

“Apos… I’m sorry sir, I don’t know the word. But I assure you that I practise my own faith and have the fullest respect for all others, lest they wish me harm.” He had intended this last phrase to be a joke, an off-the-cuff quip meant to lighten the mood. But the man’s face became even more intense, Doran had not thought that possible.

“Apostate, sir. A non-believer.”

“A heretic,” another woman, a few feet away from him, stood up and pointed at Doran. Suddenly, more people began to stand and shout.

“A stranger!”

“Recusant!”

“Dissenter!”

“Recreant!” Doran started to back away. The anger on their expressions he could understand, but some of them had a strange and gleeful look on their thin and wasted faces. It scared him. It was the look of hungry dogs when they finally found food. They smiled with hatred and Doran knew then that nothing he could say would sway them. It was time to leave.

He turned and made for the door. Behind him he heard the scraping of wood on stone and knew that folk were standing up. Doran tumbled out of the church and into the daylight. Not quite sprinting, but certainly not walking he made his way to his cart and Caramel.

With shaking hands he tied the tired donkey back to the cart, occasionally glancing back towards the church as he worked. A few people had stepped out and were glancing up and down the street. From this distance the wear on their clothes was even more pronounced. It looked as though they had not left the church in quite some time, some were even having trouble holding their own weight as they stumbled on cramped up legs.

The cart was tacked and ready to go in record time. Doran didn’t know if the townsfolk meant him any physical harm, but he’d decided back in the church not to hang around and find out. He’d travelled enough in his day to know when he was not wanted and he’d left towns before for less than this.

His joints cried out for rest as he clambered back onto the seat. Whipping the reins he ignored Caramel’s protests and guided the donkey down the road towards the other end of town, directly opposite the way he had entered. He was sure the people would not pursue him once he reached the main highway, now it was just a question of outrunning them.

The cart wheels creaked and groaned as if they were also objecting to the sudden departure, but Doran ignored them too, his mind was made up. He risked a glance back over his shoulder as he navigated his way round the houses. A few people were walking sternly towards him, shouting things that he could not quite make out. Thankfully the houses began to thin before they got too close. Doran thanked his star at the sight of the wider road and whipped the reins again to make sure Caramel was going as fast as she could. He felt bad for the poor beast, and made a mental note to treat her to a bushel of apples during their next stop.

Looking back on the situation later, Doran would wonder how it was that not one of the villagers had caught up to him. Caramel wasn’t exactly the world’s fastest steed. It would be with a twinge of sadness that he would realise that the people of the small fishing hamlet had been too exhausted, too hungry or too scared of leaving the comfort of their treasured church to catch him.

As his cart rejoined the dusty road he turned back once more to check that he was safe. He saw no angry mob, and for that he was thankful, but what he did see was something that would stay with him for the rest of his days. A lone child, clutching a doll made from scraps of material tightly to her chest. Her eyes filled at first with pleading, then sadness and finally hatred.

Episode 51

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian Lausanne was standing in the light of the moon shining bright and blue through stained glass. She was at the top of the palace in Freedos, in a large, empty space with several dark doors leading off it. By her side was Fritha, the feinhound in shimmering blue and at her feet, lying prone on his back was a man called Nicholas Telson. This man was the founder of the mysterious group called The Guiding Hand. They were racketeers, war mongers and if they weren’t power hungry, they were power mad. But now that Lilian had cut off the stinger, the scorpion would hopefully be less dangerous. She had never been one to gloat and so she said nothing. She watched him struggle against dark ropes and when that did no good, she saw his eyes cycle through fear, anger, resentment and finally acceptance.

Lilian heard a sound from the staircase which she had used to reach this place. She looked up to see Mr Attorcop, cloak billowing in haste, rushing up the stairs and into the moonlight. The sight of him made her feel safe and so she relaxed. The sense of power and connection with the darkness around her gave way and she could feel herself going back to normal. She looked down at her forearm and watched the moon and the mountain fade away. It gave her comfort knowing that they were there and that they could come back if she needed them.

Mr Attorcop rushed towards her, he was followed by William who was clutching a cut on his left arm, and a small group of men and women who seemed to all be holding improvised weapons. Lilian saw sickles, rakes and even a table leg.

“Lilian, are you alright?” said Mr Attorcop, glancing down at Telson, “restrain him,” he pointed at two men and they rushed over to Telson and quickly bound his hands behind his back with thick rope.

“I’m fine. What about you?” Mr Attorcop looked a little pale and out of breath, but he nodded.

“Yes, yes. Fine. There was some trouble down on the balcony but thankfully a group had broken through the main entrance and came to our aid.” He gestured to some of the newcomers. They were either looking around the strange room, up at the big circular window or at Lilian and Fritha.

“Cromwell,” Lilian lowered her voice, “something happened…” Mr Attorcop cut her off.

“I saw Lilian, no need to speak of it now. I saw you and I know. But the fight is not over, we need to find the Empress.” Lilian nodded, hearing the urgency in his voice.

“Telson came in from over there,” she turned and pointed to one of the far doors, the two guards who had swallowed the Nightshade were still lying nearby in crumpled heaps. Mr Attorcop turned to William.

“Take Telson to the tower and keep him there under guard, while you’re at it, find Katherine and release her.” William looked concerned,

“What about the guards?”

“Once they hear about the fall of the palace,” replied Mr Attorcop, “they should reassess their positions. Persuade them if you have to. We’re going to find Empress Sylvia.” William nodded, shot Lilian a smile and then turned away to catch up with the group who were already leading Telson away.

“You think this will change things!?” Telson was shouting over his shoulder, “You think you’re better than me? You’re just the same, you’ll see, one day soon you’ll beg for my return. You hear me?? You’ll beg for me to help you!” A thudding sound followed this twisted prophecy and Telson bent double from a swift punch to his gut. Lilian called out to Telson as she watched him get dragged away.

"Nicholas!" he turned back to glower at her, "Eleyna has not forgotten." Telson's face flashed a confused sneer, but after he processed the words, his expression changed into one of understanding mixed with fear. As he was lead away, Lilian took solace in the fact that his past had finally caught up to him and that she was able to deliver her sword mistress's message.

“Lead the way, Lilian.” Mr Attorcop was already setting off towards the door. Lilian followed him, still reeling a little from what had just happened. What had just happened? She wondered. Fritha was thankfully uninjured and was padding happily alongside them. Lilian reached up and round to touch her shoulder, there was the hole in her armour where Telson had stabbed her, but she felt no pain there. Too many questions were racing through her mind, she decided to put them to one side for the time being and focus on finding the Empress. They had handled her guard dog, but who knew what kind of trouble they would encounter while trying to actually apprehend her. Mr Attorcop remained silent and determined.

The doorway revealed a set of steep steps, twisting up and round, presumably leading to one of the palace's many towers. The trio bounded up two at a time until they came to a door. It was big, made of thick, old wood and peppered with ancient woodworm holes. This part of the palace had not been changed in many years. Lilian looked at Mr Attorcop who studied it. He tried the handle but it was bolted shut from the inside, as expected.

“Step back,” he instructed Lilian who turned and took Fritha down a few steps before turning back to observe. Mr Attorcop closed his eyes and breathed in a long breath through his nose. He then pushed all the air out slowly through his mouth whilst bringing his right hand up to his side, palm facing forwards. A few more breaths followed the first and after about a minute he thrust his hand out with a quick breath and it struck the door with the speed and force of a battering ram. Lilian felt it shake and heard the hinges rattle with the impact. One hit was not enough though. Lilian found herself wishing for more of Peter’s exploding powder. But it was not necessary. After three minutes and four more big hits, the door swung open.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” whispered Lilian. Mr Attorcop nodded,

“Let’s get out of here first shall we? Come through, and stay on your guard.” Lilian stepped across the threshold but strangely did not feel any sense of nervousness or fear. She’d dealt with the Empress’s attack dogs and although animals were at their most dangerous when cornered, she did not anticipate much trouble from this particular cornered creature. What she did begin to feel was a mounting sense of rage.

The darkness of the stairwell was overwhelmed by the brilliant glow coming from inside the room. The ceiling was tall, for a tower chamber, and its height was made all the more impressive by the mountains of objects guiding the eye upwards to the old ceiling beams. These piles were made up of precious things: golden rings nestled in silver cups, necklaces of pearly strings draped on paintings and platinum plates. There were only two or three torches, spitting and flickering in brass sconces but this was enough to bathe the room in a shimmering golden light. It reminded Lilian of the sun room where she found the bird statue in Zandt. Only there was no water or stained glass here, just velvet carpet and stacks of wealth. Lilian, Mr Attorcop and Fritha wound their way through mounds of copper coins, heaps of important looking papers and Lilian even spotted a small lock box, filled to bursting with a rainbow array of gemstones. As her footsteps pressed against the floorboards she saw two or three cascade carelessly down onto the floor. Lilian was in awe, but that feeling was quickly replaced by anger. There were enough riches in this room to feed a starving town for several years. Enough to make sure every citizen in Freedos had a warm and happy home. Enough to banish the city’s poverty problem into the realms of mere memory. All this made Lilian hopeful, and furious.

As the trio rounded a particularly voluminous mound of silver cutlery they saw her. She was sitting on what looked like a footstool. Its squat and sturdy legs supported a red velvet cushion, trimmed with gold thread. She was dressed in white a gown, accented with silver icicles around the collar and sleeve hems. On her head was a silver coronet with a deep red ruby embedded in its centre. In amongst the heaps of haphazardly scattered treasures, she looked like just another trinket. Dwarfed by a bronze statue of a lynx to her left and a large portrait of a serious looking man to her right. She looked up at them as they approached. Her big brown eyes glistened in the gold. The Empress. The woman. Kitty Sylvia.

“Lilian?” she said, in disbelief. Her eyes darted from Lilian, to Mr Attorcop, to Lilian’s tungsten switch. Her mouth curled into a small smile. “When I invited you to come back and see me this is not exactly what I had in mind.” Lilian’s hand tightened around the handle of her weapon. Surrounded by all this inordinate wealth, this physical manifestation of injustice, The Empress didn’t have the humility to admit she was beaten, instead, she was making jokes. Lilian took a step towards her. Mr Attorcop whispered softly behind her.

“Lilian…” his voice was tense with caution. It fell on deaf ears. Lilian took another step, her boot folding into the softness of the carpet. A vision flashed through her mind, followed swiftly by another and another. She saw herself grabbing the nearest plate and whacking her royal smugness with the flat side, she watched herself feeding a coin to the Empress and asking if it sustained her, in her mind she tore down the mountains of money, ripped up the paintings and beat the empress with all the unbridled rage she could muster on behalf of the people dying from starvation all across this supposed great city. But she did none of this. Instead, she took a deep breath, shut her eyes and brought her emotions under control. Lilian Lausanne then brought herself down to the floor and sat cross legged. Then she opened her eyes, looked at the Empress and said,

“Talk.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say? That I’m sorry? That I feel bad? Well I won’t. You know why? Because everything I’ve ever done was for this city. For the people, for my people. But how would you know? You’re just a child. You probably look at all this and think, well isn’t she greedy, isn’t she dishonest? But tell me, when a famine hits the farms, who do you think pays for overseas shipments of grain? Who helps business owners, people who provide jobs, when they’re struggling through hard times? Do you think that money just appears out of thin air? No. It comes from here, from me. How do you think I pay the army to help keep us safe, hm? And you have the nerve to march up here and… what? Drag me away? Kill me, perhaps? I was your age once. I came from a small town too, just like you. And, just like you, I was brought here by men who thought they knew what was best for me. My father, my uncles, counsellors, politicians, priests. They all had their say in what I was supposed to do, supposed to say, supposed to be. And I suppose it worked. I married the emperor. I was the acceptable, loveable face of his reign of terror. It was… awful. When he wasn’t drunk he was plotting the murder of his enemies. And that could be anyone from a rival lord to the cook who burned his breakfast. And then I met Nicholas and he promised me a different life. His methods might be unconventional, but compared to the company I was keeping he seemed positively placid. And he delivered on his promise, something few other men in my life ever managed to achieve. The emperor met his mysterious end and I was free to take over. Of course I don’t have to tell your friend about all that. I suspect he’s forgotten to mention the part he played in my late husband’s demise.” She shot Mr Attorcop a dagger-sharp look. She seemed to see him for the first time then, she looked him up and down and tutted. “I suspect he’s conveniently forgotten to mention a lot of things. They never tell you the whole story do they? Has he ever explained why he’s taught you all these things? How to fight? How to lie, how to perform dark and dangerous deeds. Look at you Lilian, what child your age knows how to wield a sword, what child wears armour and is forced to take her life into her hands each night as she fights, steals, is thrown out of windows, consorts with criminals and is sent away to far off lands with no way of knowing if she will be safe? No child should have to go through what you’ve been through Lilian. Girls your age should… they should be with their parents. They should play with their friends and do simple things and get upset over trivial matters. But look at you. What has he made you into? A walking weapon for him to wield without mercy. And you call me a tyrant? Let me guess. Whenever something truly terrible happens, your aged friend here is not far away. Yes. I see it in your eyes. Ask yourself, really ask yourself, can you be sure he did not cause the injuries you’ve suffered, the pain you’ve endured, the deaths of your friends. Ah… So there was a death. And he was there wasn’t he? Offering comfort with one hand and poison with the other. Men like him, they don’t stop, you know? Just look at where you are now, poised and ready to drag me away and feed me to the wolves or perhaps to your beast. There she is.” The Empress looked at Fritha now, taking in all her colourful splendour with envious eyes. “All I wanted was to see her for myself. And here she is, just as beautiful as the rumours described her. An animal straight out of a story. You’ve likely twisted her as well. Taught her how to attack and maul and maim. But she seems calm now, pretty even.” Lilian looked back at Fritha, the feinhound was sniffing the rim of a large vase, seemingly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation unfolding around her. The Empress spoke again. “But that’s what they do, these people, men like him. They take something beautiful and twist it into something useful. You’re looking at me with hatred in your eyes Lilian but how can you be sure you’re not going through exactly the same thing as I did? Hm? How can you know you’re not becoming just… like… me.” Lilian pondered the Empress’ words. There was something desperate about her tone, something sharp. She was reminded of a bird or a cat caught in a trap, scratching at the humans trying to free it. She thought about what the Empress was suggesting, about how she too might be becoming the very thing she fought so hard against. But then, a word popped into her mind and with it her body relaxed, her shoulders dropped and she smiled. She had spoken this word, this concept in the Stave Church in Bonneville a few weeks ago, just before Mr Attorcop’s attic rooms were blown to smithereens by the Weardian. She thought of Kilde, she thought of her friends and of all she’d done these past few months. The word was forgiveness and it was the difference between her and the Empress. Not that she was ready to forgive her majesty for all she’d done, but she was ready to try and understand her, to treat her with kindness, even though she hated her. This was not just the end of a dynasty, it was the beginning of a process.

Lilian stood up, she’d heard enough for now. A plan was forming in her mind, but she needed a little distance to figure out the finer details. She looked down at Empress Sylvia and saw fear in her eyes.

“Kitty Sylvia, you are from this moment, no longer the Empress of Freedos and the western realms. You are a citizen, like the rest of us. You’ll spend some time in the tower to pay for your crimes and then we will figure out what to do with you. Take off that silly crown now and follow me. We’re leaving”

A long silence followed the order, but slowly, the reality of Miss Sylvia’s situation dawned on her and her expression transformed from hatred to understanding. There was even a trace of gratitude there as it was well known that treason under her rule was normally met with swift execution. The one time leader slowly removed her coronet and placed it on the floor. Her fingers lingered on it for a few seconds, as if they were leaving the hand of an old friend as they said their goodbyes. But then, ever proud, Kitty Sylvia stood up, held her chin high and followed Lilian and Mr Attorcop down and out of the palace, Fritha padding beside her, tolling her gong with each passing minute.

When they reached the entrance to the palace they were met by a thousand silent gazes. The stunned and quiet faces of nobles, beggars and labourers stared at them as they left the grand building. Lilian glanced at the ground and saw the fallen weapons of palace guards, scattered besides pitchforks and pickaxes. The traces of blood on the flagstones and the bruises appearing on the cheeks of those around them all pointed to signs of a great struggle. The people of Freedos had joined the fight and by the looks of things, they had won. Now they were watching as their fallen leader was marched through their ranks. They did not shout, they did not throw things as Lilian feared they might. Instead, they just looked at her, every face telling a story of how this woman had hurt them. Mr Attorcop lead the way, making sure the crowd parted as they approached. Word quickly travelled down the slopes and as they walked out of the palace gates and began their descent, they saw the crowds lining the roads. The sun was just rising on the horizon, shining its warming light on the hundreds of faces that stretched down the side of the extinct volcano. It was a beautiful morning, the sky was clear and the only thing that broke the silence were the footsteps of a deposed Empress and the sound of birds singing.

They left the city and walked the dirt road to the tower. When they reached it, they saw that the guards had laid down their swords and halberds and were sitting in a group by the door, their hands bound by thick twine. A group of revolutionaries, lead by William, were close by. By the looks of things, the guards had not put up much of a fight. William greeted them.

“We’ll take it from here. Thank you Lilian, and Cromwell and Fritha, the city owes you a debt.” Lilian shook her head.

“Everyone played their part, we just did what we needed to do.” William smiled.

“You did so much more than that. And if you won’t take my thanks perhaps you’ll take someone else’s.” He moved to one side and glanced behind him. A few feet away a woman looked up and smiled.

“Katherine!” Lilian jumped for joy and ran to her friend, throwing her arms around Katherine’s waist and squeezing her tightly.

“My darling, I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, I’m sorry I left, I didn’t know you would be sent here, if I had I…” Katherine pulled her close again, shushing Lilian’s apologies.

“Hush my love, you had nothing to do with this. You did the right thing in leaving or you would have ended up in here with me.” Lilian wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at Katherine’s face. Her cheeks had lost some of their colour and she’d clearly not been eating well, but her eyes still sparkled with that same kindness she’d seen in her first week in Freedos. William walked Miss Sylvia through the tower gates.

“Come on your majesty, I’ve got a cell in here with your name on it.”

As they watched her get swallowed up into the dark halls of the tower she turned to look back at them. Lilian saw fear in the Empress's eyes and felt a small pang of compassion in her heart. Once she’d disappeared from view Mr Attorcop put his hand on Lilian’s shoulder.

“You did well Lilian. Few would have gone into that room and shown her that kind of mercy.” Lilian looked at the floor.

“If we’re going to start from scratch, then we can’t be like her. We start as we mean to go on.” Lilian turned to look her mentor in the eye, “we have a lot of work to do.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“Yes. But it’s not your work. I think we can all agree that you’ve done more than enough. The Empress said a lot of things up there, she was wrong about most, but she was right when she said that you’re still just a child. I’m… I’m sorry if I’ve robbed you of that.”

Lilian saw remorse spread across the old man’s face as he slumped his shoulders in shame. Lilian hugged him.

“Everything I’ve learned, everything we’ve done together, it’s all thanks to you. I wouldn’t change anything.” She broke away and looked at his face, his eyes wrinkled in a smile. “But, in the nicest possible way, I do think I’d like a break. She got in my head a bit back there and I just think some time apart might do us both some good.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“I understand. And you’re quite right and even though it does not need to be said, I still feel as though I should tell you, I had nothing to do with Kilde…” he faltered and Lilian interrupted him.

“I know.” Mr Attorcop nodded and wiped his eye with the back of his hand.

“Ahem, well. I think we should probably head back to the city, maybe eat something, hm? What do you say? After some food I’ll start organising a way to manage the city and you, well, you should do what you wish.” Lilian looked at her friends and smiled.

“I’d like that.” They all started to walk away and after a few steps, Lilian realised that Katherine was not following them. She turned to look back at her, she seemed hesitant to leave.

“Katherine? Are you coming?” Katherine turned to look at the tower and then back at Lilian.

“No… No I don’t think so.” Lilian was confused.

“Why not?” Katherine considered the question.

“I think I need to stay here. I know that I didn’t hurt those officers, not directly, but it was still my fault that they suffered. Walking away freely from doing that feels… strange. I think I’m going to stay here and work with the Empr… with Miss Sylvia. She’ll need feeding and guarding and I think I’d do better to serve here than to go back to looking after some very wealthy children. Heh… maybe my job won’t be as different as I thought.” Lilian understood and went back to hug her again.

“If anyone can do it, you can.”

“Thank you my love,” said Katherine, “And it’s not like I’ll be disappearing. I’ll still be able to visit you in the city for tea and cakes.” Katherine returned the hug and squeezed Lilian just that little bit more, to tell her how much she meant to her, to tell her all the things that words were too ill equipped to say. Then they parted, said goodbye and Lilian turned back to the city.

Lilian spent the next few months in Freedos. She spent her days training, walking Fritha and helping people when and where she could. Occasionally she would go back and visit Mr Twitchett who, after a brief explanation, had understood why Lilian had left her position at his shop so suddenly. He’d hired a young lad to help him and Lilian was always happy to drop by and catch up over a pot of hot tea. Some days she would shadow Mr Attorcop and observe how he went about setting up a new way of governing the city. Representatives from each quarter formed a small council, the members of which would meet once a fortnight to discuss how best to run the city. The nobles and business owners were allowed to keep their enterprises running but stricter rules were put in place surrounding the treatment of workers, and how much profits they would be allowed to keep before having to reinvest their money back into the society that made them. It was complex work which involved a lot of arguing but even in just a few weeks Lilian began to see changes. The royal coffers were raided and used to pay builders and workers to fix the poorer parts of the city. Anyone living on the streets were employed to do menial tasks or paid a small sum to attend classes. The bad smells emanating from the base of the volcano slowly disappeared and even the rat population seemed to decrease. Occasionally Lilian would catch sight of Bried or one of her gang, doing their best to keep alleyways dark and dangerous. They did their best to ignore each other but Lilian knew that Bried would never stop trying to carve a piece of the city out for herself. A stranger sight in Freedos than the queen of crime was the ex-empress herself. Katherine came to believe that simply locking her away was not enough. Kitty Sylvia owed the people of Freedos a debt and she would not be able to pay it from behind the bars of a cold cell. Katherine accompanied her into the city most days where she was promptly put to work. Together, they worked in kitchens feeding the hungry, they helped to paint old buildings, fix broken things and generally tried to place themselves wherever they were most needed and most useful. At first the old tyrant was treated with cold indifference. Food was aggressively slopped into her bowl, harsh whispers followed her wherever she went. The first few weeks she was spat upon, shoved, kicked and treated with utmost disdain. But she was diligent and under Katherine’s watchful eye she persisted in her duties. One day Lilian was watching her clean an old sewer grate. She was on her hands and knees and up to her elbow in muck. Lilian was nearby helping a stall holder sell her wares when out of the corner of her eye she saw an old woman approach the ex-empress and hand her a cloth with which to clean herself. Lilian watched Kitty Sylvia accept it warily, as if expecting some trick. But there was none. The old woman just smiled and walked away. It was a small moment, and Lilian had nearly missed it, but just as soon as she had witnessed this small act of compassion, something clicked in her mind. Lilian was ready to leave.

It took a week to get her affairs in order. She planned a dinner with Katherine and William, took Mr Attorcop to his favourite drinking house, brought Mr Twitchett a bouquet of wild flowers and even found a gift for Katrina. It was a small perfume box built to house a tiny bottle of perfume. It was made of bone porcelain and painted red with gold detailing. Lilian gave it to her in the rare flower market, between the tall shelves stacked high with perfectly preserved materials.

“My goodness Lilian, it’s beautiful. Oh, I’ll be so sorry to see you go. And not just because I’ll miss you, but when you’re around Cromwell is just easier to get on with.” Lilian smiled,

“Hopefully he won’t change too much.” Katherine laughed,

“Ha, if only you knew how much he has changed. The years before he went to Benlunar and met you he was, sad, and bitter. Watching him do his work with the council now I see real hope and energy in him. It’s marvellous. Thank you, Lily darling, and not just for the box, but for that.” Out of the corner of her eye, Lilian saw Peter appear at the door to the back room. She turned and smiled at him.

“You’re really going?” he asked. Lilian nodded. She felt a lump appear in her throat but before a tear could escape from her eye Peter was already across the room and hugging her. “I’ll come visit, aye? If Benlunar is as beautiful as you say then I should think it’s worth a trip to see my friend.” Lilian giggled and sniffed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, her voice muffled by his woolly green jumper.

“Then it shall be the easiest promise I have ever kept.” They both smiled and then the mood shifted to bittersweet sadness.

“Farewell, Lilian Lausanne.”

“Farewell, Peter Sturgeon. Bye Katrina, I’m sure I’ll see you both very soon. And in case I don’t see her, please send my love to Serena.” Peter’s face turned a bright shade of pink.

“Who?” exclaimed his mother and Lilian left before she put her foot any further into her mouth.

On the morning of her departure Lilian got up early. She wanted to take Fritha to all her favourite spots before leaving. They went to the park, to Checkhad square, and they even did a small tour of old town before going back to The Greedy Goose to pick up their belongings. Lilian struggled a little to pack everything she had amassed during her time in Freedos into the little travelling pack she’d brought from Benlunar. Thankfully though, Beatrice and Chester, the innkeepers, had a spare pack that had been left by another guest. This one had straps that looped over both shoulders meaning the traveller could have both hands free while they walked. Lilian thanked them profusely and after a hearty breakfast, left for her appointment at the city gate. The journey there was strange indeed. People she’d only spoken to once or twice in her life smiled when they saw her and wished her a pleasant journey. Some would rush over to her in a sweat, thankful to have caught her before she left, and thrust packets of dried meats or sour berries into her hands. One older man gave her a beautifully carved walking staff in the shape of a thin tree, a full moon was at its top nestled in the intricately cut branches. No one accepted any payment and with each new street there were more people rushing out of their homes to say their goodbyes. Children threw their arms around her as their mothers enquired about which routes she would be taking. People leaned out of windows to wave and if Lilian hadn’t been so shocked, she might have been overwhelmed with emotion. They all said thank you, and they all had stories about how their lives had improved in the week’s since Empress Sylvia’s deposition. Fritha was just as delighted as Lilian, as everyone wanted to pat her head, hug her and feed her expensive cuts of meat. By the time she reached the city gate, a small crowd had gathered and Lilian became so inundated with gifts she began to worry how she might carry it all. But then, in the middle distance, she saw Mr Attorcop. Lilian was just thanking a young lady for her generous gift of a bag of grain, when she noticed him standing beside a very large and very handsome looking horse. He was holding the reigns and, perhaps even more surprising, smiling.

“Is this…” Lilian pointed up at the animal, not daring to speak the full question.

“This,” began Mr Attorcop, “this is Afaran and yes, he is yours. The least I could do really after having made you walk here.” Lilian gazed up into the horse’s jet black eye, he was calm, probably distracted by the bag of grain in Lilian’s arms but he remained placid as she approached him and lifted her hand to touch his nose. His coat was all black, save for a diamond patch of white on his forehead.

“He’s two years old and well trained, you might wish to keep him or sell him when you get to Benlunar. Speaking of which, there’s some money and food in his saddle bags and…” Mr Attorcop faltered. Lilian glanced at him, if she didn’t know any better she might have thought he was getting emotional. “Ahem, so, stay safe and I will see you soon.”

“Really?” she asked, excitedly,

“Oh yes. I’ll be due a visit to our mutual friend in Benlunar in a few months so I’ll be sure to say hello.” Lilian smiled. Words were nearly running out so she hugged him and whispered,

“Thank you,” into the folds of his starry cloak.

“Remember to keep training, I want to see that strange power of yours when I see you in Benlunar. Don’t eat food that you haven’t seen being properly cooked, boil your water before you drink…”

“Alright alright,” Lilian giggled, “I’ll be fine.” Mr Attorcop relented.

“I know. Here,” he offered her his hand and helped her up into the saddle on Afaran’s broad back. He was a little bigger than most horses she’d ridden before, but she sensed a confident calmness in him. This beast would not scare easily. Lilian took the reins in her hands and glanced down at Mr Attorcop. He was packing her various gifts into the saddle bags and making one final check to see that Lilian had everything she needed. Then he stood back, smiled and said,

“Be safe, be clever, be kind.” Lilian grinned and nodded. Then she turned to wave goodbye to the crowd who all cheered and waved back. Then she tugged on Afaran’s reins to make him turn, lightly kicked his side to make him walk and she headed out of the city gate.

The road stretched out in front of her paved with hopes and stones. Fritha ran ahead in excitement and Lilian rocked happily in the saddle. She felt a little sad to be leaving but excited to be going home. She found herself hoping the trip would not be too boring but remembered then that the way to the western mountains is long and dangerous. Many things can happen on such a journey. One might even have an adventure.

Episode 50

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian could not help feeling a rush of excitement. She had just witnessed Peter’s chemical concoction explode and now she, along with William, Fritha and Mr Attorcop were rushing towards the large iron door in the cemetery wall. This wall, which towered above them at least twenty feet in height, was the only thing standing between them and the palace grounds, and now they had breached it. Lilian remembered to steady her breathing, lest she become over excited and distracted. Mr Attorcop wafted away the smoke, which smelled of severely burnt meat, and slowed his pace as he approached the door. Lilian heard footsteps hurrying up behind her and turned to see Peter catching up with them. Genaro and his two companions were not far behind.

“Ha! Told you! I knew it would work. Lugging that stuff all the way back from Zandt was worth it after all.” He was gesturing to where the jar of black dust had been placed moments ago. The jar was nowhere to be seen. The iron around its placement was twisted and bent outwards, as if a giant’s fist had been plunged straight through it. The brick wall had suffered damage as well, with a large section where the bolt had been embedded missing and turned to dust. Mr Attorcop pushed the door gently and the group watched with glee as it swung open easily, revealing a serene, starlit garden beyond. Peter tapped Lilian on the shoulder.

“This is where I leave you. I’m no fighter and I’d only slow you down. I’ll see you in the morning though aye?” Lilian smiled and nodded.

“Yes, thank you Peter.” Peter grinned,

“Don’t mention it, good luck.” He turned on his heel, gave one last look at his handiwork and ran away through the cemetery smiling like a schoolboy.

“I think we’d best stay too,” mumbled Genaro, “My head feels three times the size and growing every second. That bang didn’t help one bit, impressive though it was.” Lilian stepped over the rubble, towards him.

“Thank you Genaro, I mean it. You and your men, the brave sons of Taymar, did well.” All three of them beamed with pride, despite the fact that the effort obviously caused them some discomfort. Genaro turned to go but caught himself before leaving.

“Oh, one more thing. Miss Lausanne, you don’t have a weapon.” Lilian instinctively looked down at her hands. She hadn’t given it much thought, she was so used to fighting with her fists and feet, but now that she considered what might lie beyond the wall, a weapon might do her good. Genaro reached behind his back and grabbed the handle of his sword. Or at least, Lilian thought it was a sword. When he brought the weapon out of its scabbard Lilian saw that it was more of a metal rod. It had a handle of thin tied rope and was polished to a shine.

“This is a tungsten switch, quite rare and in the right hands, very dangerous. See how it thins a little at the tip? That will make your strikes faster. It looks thin, but it packs a wallop and its blows are usually less deadly than a sword’s.” He placed the weapon in Lilian’s open palms.

“Alexi…” she began, “I can’t…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted her, “it’s yours. Consider it an apology gift, for letting you down. Now with this and the help with the soldiers here I think I can sleep soundly once more.” Lilian smiled.

“Thank you.” Alexi Genaro took a step back and bowed. His comrades followed suit and in the next instant the gentlemen revolutionaries were off into the night, their capes and billowy shirts, flapping in the breeze.

“Right,” said Mr Attorcop, “time is wasting, let’s push on.”

Now that they were down to just three, four including Fritha, they moved quicker and quieter through the palace gardens. Like shadows they leaped between topiaries and expertly shaped hedges. The gardens were beautiful but they had no time to stop and admire the flowers coloured blue by the moonlight. Genevive had given them strict instructions as to how to navigate the gardens and they were thankful for them, for without her direction they would have surely gotten lost in the shrubbery maze. At one point Mr Attorcop directed them to duck into a bush and Lilian heard the sounds of booted footsteps rushing by up ahead, surely the sound of soldiers sent to investigate the disturbance at the door. The palace loomed dark and high above them, as if it were a chess player and the scurrying folk at its feet merely pieces in its twisted game. After about fifteen minutes they found the base of the palace and headed to the back garden entrance. Lilian hadn’t seen this part of the palace from when she had attended the ball. The garden door was embedded in an ornate alcove. Mr Attorcop glanced about before approaching it, making sure no one had followed them.

“Now remember,” he whispered, “our goal is to find the Empress, I have no doubt that she will be heavily guarded, but if she is to answer for her actions, then she must be isolated and detained.”

“And then what?” asked Lilian. Mr Attorcop’s face became difficult to read. His countenance grew serious, even more serious than usual and he stared at Lilian and William with a dark look in his eyes.

“I should imagine a trial. That is, if she comes quietly. Too much resistance and we might have to dispense our own brand of justice.” Lilian was having trouble telling if he was joking. “Let’s just focus on catching her first,” he said, smirking at Lilian’s worried face. He turned to the thick wooden door and focused on the latch. There was a hole there made for a large key, but without any key or any more explosives to hand Mr Attorcop was forced to improvise. He turned towards the moon, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Lilian knew he was about to perform some of his own gloaming and she felt an unpleasant pang of jealousy. Focus, she told herself, there would be time to address that later. After about half a minute Mr Attorcop took a section of his long black sleeve and began to work it between his fingers. Lilian watched as the limp material slowly began to take shape. It formed itself into a thin plank, stiff as a board and yet still malleable to Mr Attorcop’s touch. He turned back to the door and worked the now stiff cloth into the small gap between the wall and the door. With a quick, jerking motion he hoisted the cloth upwards and Lilian heard the satisfying click of the latch being released on the other side. She smiled as the door swung inwards.

“Very nice,” whispered William, “couldn’t we have done that with the iron door though?” Mr Attorcop bade them inside and shook his head.

“No, the bar would have been too heavy. My cloak is only wool, I cannot change its properties, just shift them a little, like starch.” William was impressed nonetheless, it was not often people got to see real sorcery at work, even though Lilian knew that Mr Attorcop would be the last person to call it that.

The corridor inside was dark, streaks of moonlight bled in from small windows by the ceiling and Mr Attorcop cut through them quickly as he lead the way. Fritha seemed to have picked up on the atmosphere and was drifting in and out of perfect camouflage, hugging and mimicking the grey stone wall beside her, only becoming visible when she stepped into the streams of moonlight. Lilian tried to keep an eye on her but had to focus on keeping her armour and footsteps from making any sound. Thankfully, this wasn’t too difficult. The armour seemed to have been built for stealth and needed only a hand pressed lightly onto the breastplate to keep it from clanging.

All of them held their breath as they approached an open archway up ahead. There were the sounds of voices and shuffling movement coming from somewhere beyond the arch. Lilian tried to get her bearings and judged by the amount of time they’d been navigating this corridor that they must be near the main hall by now. Mr Attorcop put a hand out behind him, signalling them to stop while he went on ahead. He hugged his back to the wall and peered round the corner. He remained motionless for a few seconds, enough time for Lilian to breathe out slowly and shift her senses. The voices became clearer, one belonged to a man, his tone was gruff and strangely familiar.

“It’s not a question of numbers, it’s about positioning. Leave the soldiers in the yard and gardens. Inside I want only castle personnel.” The voice was answered by another, younger voice that Lilian did not recognise.

“Yes Captain. And her majesty is…” the first voice cut it off,

“Never you mind. Telson is protecting her personally, she’ll be fine.” Lilian came out of focus then in time to see Mr Attorcop coming back.

“It’s Taymor. He’s got palace guards with him.” Lilian looked over at William. She worried he might lose his temper and go after Katherine’s imprisoner and husband. But he kept his head and barring the white knuckles on his tightening fist, showed no sign of betraying the mission. Lilian suddenly realised just how tall he was as well. He was such a good natured man that she hadn’t really noticed the bulk on his arms and width of his shoulders. He would not have stood out from a row of soldiers and Lilian feared for any man that would come up against him when his patience ran thin.

“We should keep going, we don’t want them taking the Empress away,” he said. Lilian shared what she had just heard.

“Telson has the Empress, they’re probably upstairs somewhere.” Mr Attorcop did some quick calculations in his head before replying.

“We need a way to access the upper levels.” Lilian thought back to the evening of the ball. Had she missed something that could help them now?

“There are several ways we can access the balcony upstairs. I was taken up there via a side staircase off the main hall, perhaps there are others like it?” The three of them nodded and doubled back. There had been some small corridors and doors leading away from the hallway on their journey, but they had ignored them, seeking the main hall so they could find their bearings. So far, the palace back passages had been thankfully free from soldiers, but Lilian knew that could change at any minute.

After retracing their steps for just a minute or so, they came to a squat looking door built into a rounded corner.

“Here,” said Lilian, “this round part might have a staircase inside.” Mr Attorcop twisted the ring on the edge of the door and the latch popped up. The door swung open slowly, its metal hinges whining at the effort. The group held their breath but thankfully there was a set of wooden stairs built into the edge of the well. They began their ascent. Lilian knew they were heading in the right direction, but the feeling of not knowing exactly how to get there was uncomfortable. The four of them silently made their way up the stairwell until they came to a door, set into the side of the wall. Mr Attorcop was leading the way and so, after briefly putting his ear to the wood, opened the door as quietly as possible. The door revealed a comfortable looking lounge room. Soft furnishings were scattered about the space in little groups, window seats hugged the large panes of crystal clear glass through which a view of the entire city could be seen. Lilian glanced out of one of the tall windows and felt her legs weaken a little from dizziness. The palace was built on top of an old volcano after all, so from here, there was nowhere to look but down. They made their way through the room without a sound, just a few loud sniffs from Fritha who had become interested in a chaise-longue in the corner. The carpets softened their steps up until another door set into the eastern wall, the one furthest away from the windows. It was one of two such doors, both of which were decorated with swirling, flowing details and had little leaves carved into the edges. They were painted light blue, like the rest of the room, with the carvings highlighted in white. Mr Attorcop tried the handle and breathed a small sigh of relief when he found it open.

The door let out into a corridor lit by several candles stationed in sconces along the length. They listened out for movement or speech, but heard nothing. And so, following their instincts, they made their ways along the passage. They ignored most of the doors along its length, knowing by looking at them that they would lead to trivial places like tea rooms, libraries, smoking rooms, washrooms, etc. What they were looking for was somewhat grander than these.

The great hall came into sight just a few moments later. After a few twists and wrong turns they found themselves on the great balcony where Lilian had met Empress Sylvia at the ball all those months ago. As Lilian stepped back on to the boards and looked up, she noticed how bleak this place was with no magical fairy lights to brighten up the large walls. They began to cross the balcony, following Lilian now as she remembered exactly where The Empress had emerged from that day and assumed that she would have come straight from her personal quarters. With any luck, she would be there now. Lilian glanced over the balcony edge as they traversed the hall. Where once there had been a fantastical forest, there was now just pale and cold stone. Lilian stopped in her tracks. There was something strange about the sight below. The space was empty. She had expected to see soldiers guarding the main door, but the large wooden structure was shut and looked out over an empty space. A few torch flames flickered in the cavernous space below them, but that was all the movement Lilian could see. She stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes and took a long, calming breath. As she slipped into focus, the palace remained largely dark. So few sounds were being made that Lilian was having a bit of trouble orienting herself. She picked up the noise of people from far below and outside, soldiers discussing tactics in the courtyard. But there was something else, something closer that was drawing her attention. Up? No. Along the wall there, somewhere below and behind them. Opening her eyes, Lilian whipped round and pointed at the passage they had just come from.

“There are people coming,” she said.

“How many?” asked Mr Attorcop.

“Not sure, maybe ten or twelve, a lot.” Mr Attorcop’s expression grew dark.

“Let’s keep going.” Their brisk and quiet walk turned into a run as they headed once again for the stairwell entrance on the other side of the balcony. Lilian didn’t dare enter focus again, knowing that the sound of boots behind them would only be getting closer.

They had almost made it to the stairwell entrance on the other side when a loud shout drew Lilian’s attention back. She turned briefly to see who had made the sound and she was greeted by a small company of soldiers spewing out of the stairwell opposite like mice out of a burning bakery. The man leading them was tall, had a serious expression and an angular face. Lilian knew him now, even though they had never officially met. This was Taymor Brown, Katherine’s husband. His uniform had changed since the last time she’d seen him. His Weardian coat had been replaced by leather armour and a dark green surcoat with the Empress’s sigil plastered plainly on the chest in gold and rose. He was drawing his sword as he strode towards them, half running.

“Stop where you are. You are under arrest for trespassing, murderous intent and treason. Under the authority of Empress Sylivia, you are to come with us and be placed in the dungeons until your trial.” Lilian watched as all twelve men around him drew their weapons and began to edge closer. She turned to look at Mr Attorcop and was surprised to see him stopped, frozen in place facing away from the soldiers with his eyes closed. He was breathing deeply and rhythmically. Lilian knew she had to buy him some time. She was about to say something when William stepped forward.

“Taymor,” he spoke in a low and serious tone, his own sword drawn from its scabbard. He took two steps towards the group of palace guards, and spoke again, “You’re on the wrong side of all this. Think about…” his voice cracked with emotion, “think about Katherine. If she could see you like this, fighting little girls and obeying a mad Empress’ every wish, what would she think? Perhaps that’s why you threw her in the tower. So that you didn’t have to face her disappointed expression whenever she looked at you.” Lilian’s heart was thumping, Mr Attorcop still had not turned around and was still focusing intently on his breathing. Taymor Brown’s eyes narrowed as they glowered at William.

“You must be Mr Lincoln. I must say, I’ve tried to never let myself take pleasure in what I do. I believe it fosters cruelty. But I think I can allow myself a little bit of happiness knowing that it’s you I will be throwing in a dungeon this evening. Take a good look, William…” He turned and gestured to his unit of men and the gold star on his left breast, “this is what taking pride in your work looks like. Obeying the law and working hard can get you power and respect. Not that you would know anything about an honest day’s work. Perhaps that’s what she sees in you, hm? Someone she can look after, like she does with all those children?” Lilian recognised this tactic. He was trying to make William angry. Bried had done the same thing to her back in her house in Lionsgate. William was too smart to fall for something like that though, right? She looked up at him and saw that the knuckles on his sword hand were white and a vein was throbbing in his left temple. He took another step.

“You talk of respect and honour? Is that how an honourable husband treats his wife then? By throwing her in a dungeon?” Now it was Taymor’s turn to become angry, his teeth clenched and his movements grew more erratic.

“All I’ve ever done,” he said, “was what was right, by the law, by my duty and by my family. Sometimes, people make mistakes, I’ll grant it. But an honourable person would know when and how to pay for them. Again, I’m not surprised that you do not understand.” Taymor had crossed three quarters of the balcony by now and he seemed ready to stop speaking, “now enough of this. Drop your weapons, come with us this instant and no harm will come to you.” William was shaking his head. Lilian readied herself for a fight when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Mr Attorcop’s whispering voice appeared in her ear.

“Head up the stairs, find the Empress, we’ll join you shortly.” Lilian turned to look at him but he was already striding past her, towards the guards. She glanced back at the stairs going up and twisting out of sight. She took a step towards them, trusting that Mr Attorcop knew what he was doing. She wanted to wish him good luck but became distracted by figuring out where Fritha was. She must have disappeared as soon as the guards arrived. Trusting she was not alone then, she darted for the spiral staircase, the very one she had seen The Empress emerge from when she first met her at the ball. Just as she turned the corner she saw movement coming from the balcony, a large black mass, swirling and twisting darted out of her vision and then all she had left were the sounds of her feet on the steps, the clattering of swords and the screams of men.

The spiralling steps took her up and up to the realms of roofs and towers. Small slits in the brickwork allowed Lilian to see out over the ancient tiles that lined the tops of the palace structures. There were windows across from her so she assumed these towers were connected, probably via rooftop walkways. Lilian’s stomach dropped when she craned her neck out to see the palace gardens and walls. She had thought the balcony high up, but these heights were unnatural, especially for anything that wasn’t a mountain. Lilian didn’t mind heights, it would be tough to live in Benlunar if you did, but this tower was becoming ridiculous. Just as her thighs began to scream from pushing her up two steps at a time, the spiral well let out into a large space. Lilian hesitated to think it a room, it felt more like a landing. The ceiling was relatively low, compared to the chambers in the lower part anyway and especially compared to the great hall. It was roughly the length of the Stave Church in Benlunar and had large wooden beams supporting the roof above and long smooth planks under foot. Small doors ran the length of the space along the walls to her right and left. In the wall at the far end, there was a large round window paned by blue stained glass. This window could be seen from street level, it looked out over the palace courtyard. Lilian had always thought it to be a bit dreary, but now she could see that it was meant to be viewed from the inside, rather than admired from the street. Even the dim light of the stars and moon was enough to wash this space in streaks of beautiful blue and silver. Lilian approached the glass slowly, studying its designs. In the pale panes and swirling metal frames she saw moons and constellations. This window was old, old enough to have been built for when this building was still a church. For the first time since coming to Freedos though, Lilian found herself asking what it was the people used to worship here. It was chilly up in this large room with no sconces or fires, but Lilian felt more comforted than cold. She looked about instinctively for Fritha, sure that she would have come up here with her, but before she could call out, movement at the far end of the space caught her eye. It was one of the little doors nestled in the wall. It opened quickly and three men walked out, one of them was barking orders at the other two. He walked with a cane and was wearing a long azure blue coat with details sewn in golden thread lining the edges. His black shoes were polished to a shine and they had gold buckles that matched the jacket. He walked into the wash of blue light but froze as soon as he saw Lilian. She had not tried to hide, she just gripped her weapon and stood as confidently as she could in the middle of the room looking directly at Nicholas Telson. Telson smiled. Lilian could see his face clearly even in the dim light. It was a charming face, she had to admit it. It would probably have been difficult to weedle his way into high society without such a face. But there was something twisted there, the way he smiled or the manner by which he examined people. It wasn’t the charm of someone like, Peter say, it was far less endearing and once you knew exactly just what kind of person he was, the charming facade fell away to reveal malice behind it.

“So you finally made it to your appointment,” he said, “A little late, but I suppose that’s better than never.” Lilian’s nerves were getting the better of her. She wanted to be able to joust with words properly and give him some witty comeback, but perhaps now was not the time to care about those things.

“It’s over Telson,” she said, with as much gravitas as she could muster. She suddenly felt very alone.

“Over? My dear the night is young, you’re here on your own and the Empress is very much secured. I would say things are only just beginning.” His smile faded into a scornful glare. His countenance quickly shifted, Lilian moved her switch up in front of her and shifted her left leg behind her.

“You two, drink that stuff and deal with this intruder.” The order set off alarm bells in Lilian’s head. Stuff? She thought, what stuff? The two men who were flanking Telson, looked at each other and then at him with confused expressions.

“Mr Telson, are you sure that’s really necces…” Telson reacted quickly and brought the tip of his cane down hard on the man’s foot before he could finish talking. The large man winced in pain and bent over, putting himself at eye level with Telson.

“Do not question my orders. This one is not worth trifling with.” They looked back at Lilian, who readied herself by shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot and then jerking her head forwards in a sharp nod so as to knock the helmet visor forward. A set of silver jaws obscured her vision for a moment and then, with a pleasing thunk she was looking out through the eyes of her metal mask.

A small flicker of concern, flitted across the faces of the two guards, the helmet was disconcerting even for seasoned soldiers. The jaws and face were designed to trigger primal fears. But then they sneered and stood up to their full heights. Telson began to move backwards, back towards the large window. He would observe proceedings from a safe distance, getting others to hurt and be hurt for him. Lilian thought she saw a glint of pleasure in his eye as his two guards brought out little bottles from within their uniforms. Lilian’s body nearly flinched at the sight of the purple liquid sloshing about inside them. An echo of pain flowed through her arm and back at the memory of the last time she saw such a bottle. Without any further warning, the guards flicked off the caps and tipped the containers up and back, letting the thick purple ichor slip quickly out of the bottles and rush down their throats, like it was conscious and eager to escape imprisonment. Both men winced, one dropped his bottle and Lilian watched it fall to the floor with a clatter, remaining intact upon impact with the floorboards. Lilian breathed out a long and slow breath. She had imagined this kind of moment many times over the past weeks. So far, everything was going according to prediction. The men had drunk the Nightshade and would now have to wait a few seconds until it took effect. She had a plan in her head, but was nervous about whether or not it would work. From somewhere deep in the palace, Lilian thought she heard a shout, but tried to not let it distract her. The seconds dragged by and Lilian waited. Just when she began to worry about whether this batch of Nightshade was in any way different or better, the two guards did just what she expected them to do. Their faces contorted in pain and they both bent over double, clutching their stomachs. Now, thought Lilian and she rushed forward, fighting all the voices in her mind telling her it was too dangerous. If her theory was correct, she only had a brief window in which to act. She crossed the space between them as quickly as her legs could carry her. Instead of stopping when she reached the two men, she veered to the left and let her momentum carry her forward into the first guard. Her movement did not stop until her fist connected with the guard’s stomach. He had been too incapicated to stop her and once his body felt the punch in his gut, his eyes widened in shock. Lilian did not wait to see if she had been successful, instead, she twisted round and landed a swift backheel kick in the second man’s stomach. He reacted in the same way as the first. Both men were on the floor now. Writhing in agony and vomiting purple gunk onto the old wood. Lilain allowed herself a smile. She had suspected a direct attack on the gut to be effective, but she hadn’t imagined it would put two grown fighters completely out of action. It appeared nightshade had a weakness.

Lilian turned to look at Telson. His mouth was pursed and his expression was dark and disappointed. He sighed and spoke,

“Uh, typical. You know, if the Empress hadn’t wanted to meet you, I would have chopped you up in that dirty little room of yours. But now that you’ve committed treason I don’t think her grace will fret too much over your death.”

Telson stepped forward, into the stream of blue light that was coming from the window behind him. His shadow stretched out in front of him until it touched the tips of Lilian’s toes. He drew his sword out of its cane-shaped sheath and examined it in the light. Lilian glanced at her own weapon. She still hadn’t used it properly and this thing was a little heavier than the training blades she’d used in Zandt. It felt good in her hand though. A satisfying weight and a good balance gave her confidence. Besides, there was something she liked about the fact that it was not sharp or pointed. Telson swished his blade back and forth in the air, sending dust swirling around him. Lilian’s head was awash with thoughts. She tried to remember everything she’d been taught by Mistress Eleyna, she tried to focus, she tried to stop worrying about Mr Attorcop and William. It was all too much.

“I take it you’ve become quite the poster child…” he stepped forward and focused his gaze on Lilian, “How disappointed the people will be when they find you in the morning.” Without another sound, Telson was rushing forwards. His speed was uncanny. Had Lilian not been ready and watching him, she was sure he could deliver a killing blow from that distance in less than a couple of seconds. But Lilian was ready. In fact, she was more than just ready. She saw in the positioning of his weapon in relation to his body that he was in the sixth Atarapian stance, second movement. It was hard to be sure, his movements were not as obvious and defined as she had been taught, but this flash of insight was all she needed. She knew instinctively that there were several counters to this attack, she chose the tenth stance, third movement, flicking her feet into position and adjusting her body to absorb the oncoming attack and, hopefully, stop it in its tracks.

Telson closed the gap and brought his sword out in a textbook sixth, second stab. This stance included a distraction in the form of a stomping foot, Lilian ignored this easily and stepped in over it bringing her weapon and free hand forward from the side in an attempt to trap Telson’s arm against his body. The brief look of surprise on his face suddenly made all those hours of agonising lessons worth it. Lilian could not resist a smile. She hoped he saw it through the gaps in her mask. Telson shoved her quickly and twisted out of the pin. He looked at Lilian up and down with new eyes. He began to circle her slowly keeping his weapon trained on her body and his eyes on her mask.

“You’ve been… practising I see.” He quickly shifted into second stance, Lilian countered with fourth and third. He lifted his sword sheath up into ninth and first, Lilian moved into fifth and first. They shadow boxed like this for a while, testing the other’s reflexes and analysing their choices of attack and defense stances, Telson moving all the while. Once he’d completed a half circle around her, Telson spoke again through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know who taught you Atarap, but they didn’t do a very good job. Either that or you were just a poor student.” Lilian was about to reply, but she stopped herself. She was done with talking. She flashed two steps forward, bringing her metal rod weapon out and round in a swift arc. Atarap was mainly a sword fighting art and therefore relied a lot on stabs and slashes. These would be useful moves for Lilian, but with her current weapon, they would not be deadly. Telson saw the attack coming and blocked it with his cane sheath. He quickly brought his sword up to counter but Lilian batted it away using a technique Mr Attorcop had taught her in Benlunar. It involved hitting your opponent’s shoulder and disrupting their attack. It wasn’t strictly an Atarapian move, a skilled user could counter it quickly, which Telson of course did. Lilian couldn’t help noticing however that her tactic caught him off guard for a split second. This triggered an angry bout of quick attacks from Telson. His razor sharp blade flew at Lilian from all angles at breakneck speed, and it wasn’t only sword attacks. Kicks, punches and even one attempt at a headbutt came out of Telson’s wave of attacks. Lilian found herself backing up. He was fast, perhaps not quite as quick as Mistress Eleyna, but that didn’t matter. He was still quick enough to force Lilian to focus on defending. Lilian needed to regroup and so after ducking under a particularly vicious slash, she jumped backwards with a back handspring and created some distance between them. Lilian breathed out slowly and chastised herself. She’d been holding her breath. This would have earned her a quick wrap on the wrist from Mistress Eleyna. She looked up to see Telson smiling. His breathing had quickened but he’d kept his composure.

“I’ll admit your defense is impressive. But it’s just a matter… of…time.” He sprung forward on the last word and unleashed a volley of attacks. Lilian defended most of them, but her blocks were becoming sloppy and late. After dodging a stab aimed at her eye, she felt all her breath leave her at once and looked down to see Telson’s fist, still clenching the sheath, plunged into her stomach. Lilian shoved Telson back, coughing and spluttering and trying to catch her breath as she did. Her vision blurred slightly but she kept her weapon up. The tip of the switch wobbled as she tried to get her composure back. She heard a low, rippling sound and realised that Telson was laughing.

“The people’s champion. I suppose it's only fitting. This pitiful attempt at revolution is weak, misguided and boorish. Like a child.” Lilian brought her arms up to block an incoming punch, but it was a feint and Lilian quickly felt a shock of pain flash through her body from her thigh as Telson’s booted foot connected with the nerve in the side of her leg. The limb went numb and Lilian was forced to hobble away. Fear was taking her over now. She felt its cold sweat drip down her forehead, despite the heat of the mask. She sensed it taking control of her heartbeat, then her breathing. She breathed in sharply and heard her chest wheezing and straining with the effort. Suddenly Telson was on her again, this time he performed the eighth stance fourth and fifth kick. Lilian had learned it, but had never used it successfully in a fight. Perhaps that was why she didn’t see it coming. Telson span right and down, sweeping his left leg out and knocking Lilian’s base out from under her. Before she hit the ground though, Telson was up and kicking with his right leg. His shin connected with Lilian’s chest mid fall and sent her sliding across the boards. She heard herself emit a pained shout along with the clattering of metal on wood. This was it she thought. Telson was toying with her, but his enjoyment would be ending soon, and Lilian would not be able to fight back.

Lilian tried to support herself on her arm, but it wobbled under her weight. She coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. She heard Telson’s wood wedge boots slowly clomp towards her. Images of home flashed through her mind. She saw her parents, smiling and cooking in the kitchen. She heard Kilde’s voice asking if she could come out and play. She saw the river and heard the sound of birdsong. She felt a desperate longing to be there. To be home and safe. A lump appeared in her throat and the word ‘Mum’ formed on her lips. She realised then that her weapon had flown out of her hand during the tumble. She looked over to where it lay. She needed to get to it. She reached into her dwindling well of strength and managed to drag herself halfway there before she felt the sole of a cold boot stepping on her wrist. She winced.

“This city has always had a vermin problem. I suppose I could tie you up or something. Show you mercy. But the thing with rats is…” the boot twisted as Telson leant down, he spoke in a menacing whisper, “if you don’t kill them, they just… come… back.”

There was a crunch as her armour was punctured and a searing pain erupted from Lilian's shoulder as Telson’s cold metal blade was forced downward, stabbing her in the back.

Lilian cried out. It was not a lethal blow. Telson was not a merciful man. He was cruel, like a cat that plays with its food before devouring it. Lilian felt the sword slide out, sending another burst of hot pain through her chest and head. Her left arm went limp and useless. Her vision blurred with hot tears. She felt a boot slide under her chest and was unceremoniously lifted and kicked over so that she was now facing the ceiling. She looked to the blue window, hoping to catch a final glimpse of the moon. But Telson was blocking her vision and so all she saw was his dark silhouette and that fiendish grin.

“I’ll be sure to tell them you fought bravely, or maybe I shan’t say anything at all. I’ll just let your death become a symbol of futility. Goodnight, Lilian Lausanne.” Lilian saw the outline of his arm rise up, the flat of his blade glinting in the blue light. She shut her eyes and apologised in her mind to everyone who had been counting on her. She waited for the finishing blow.

But it did not come. Warily, Lilian opened her eyes. Telson was moving backwards, wrenching his sword arm two and frow in a jerky off beat dance. He was struggling in the dark against some invisible foe. Fritha. The feinhound shimmered into view. Her powerful jaws were locked around Telson’s wrist and he was gasping and struggling against her grip. Lilian smiled and knew that she did not have long until he was free. Her faithful companion was protecting her until the very last, even when it was obvious that she was beaten. The act gave Lilian time, but more importantly, it gave her hope. She needed to do something, she needed to regain the advantage. She needed to disappear.

And so Lilian pushed herself up into a seated position, trying desperately to ignore the pain flowing out from her shoulder. She crossed her legs, shut her eyes and took a deep breath. The sounds of Fritha’s jangling growls and Telson’s curses intensified. Lilian went past hyper focus and straight into gloaming. She turned her senses inwards and found the golden light of her heart. The strange pain was there to meet her, just as she knew it would be. Normally she would have given up and opened her eyes, but gloaming was her last resort now. She forced herself to stay with it. The white hot pain mixed with the searing cut on her back. Her body was being pushed to its physical limit but despite this Lilian kept her breaths constant and deep. Each new breath brought with it a wave of fresh agony. Her heart was racing and she felt sweat begin to fall down her forehead and into her eyes. She forced herself to keep breathing. Surely it couldn’t get worse, she heard herself think, there had to be an end to this, a threshold, a horizon, a moment beyond the pain. She had just been stabbed and didn’t mind admitting that she would rather go through that again than to sit here and deal with this strange inner torture. She was close to giving up, just a few more breaths, she told herself. Her skin felt as though it was burning from flame and acid all at once. She felt sick. She felt her organs moving inside her. Her lungs filled with fire, her stomach with white hot metal. But there, just now, she saw something. Some movement from the golden light. Like the first rays of dawn at the end of a tunnel, or a moon above a deep well.

Her heart light was growing. Instead of persuading it to leave her body, Lilian let it wash over her. Its cooling power eased the pain. Just a little at first, but then in a matter of seconds, the pain was gone. And not just the pain from gloaming, but her shoulder was no longer hurting either. She had stayed strong and was out on the other side now. She began to feel energised. Her heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm and a comforting warmth spread throughout her body. The only part of her that still felt stange, was her right forearm. Lilian opened her eyes and looked down at the spot where it hurt. Perhaps hurt was too strong a word. It didn’t hurt, it just felt bigger, more present. She nearly gasped when she twisted her arm upwards to reveal a moon and a mountain. The essence was there, skin deep and activated. It glowed silver and white in the darkness and Lilian could feel power surging from it and through her body. She looked up to the big circular stained glass window. Something was drawing her attention there. Like when a warm fire draws the body towards it. There, in one of the circular panels, fitted like a puzzle piece, was the full moon. It hung delightful in the sky, bright and beautiful. Lilian breathed in its magic and let its refreshing light flow around and inside her. The pain was all gone now replaced by… power.

“Damn you to the ninth circle you foul creature.” Telson was still struggling with Fritha, but a quick kick to the animal’s ribs made her yelp and fall to the floor. It’s fine, Lilian told herself. She would be okay, besides, she’s done enough. She can rest for now. Telson turned back to his real target, his eyes were creased with hatred. A strand of his hair was out of place and Lilian got the impression that this man really hated exerting himself in any way. His expression changed however when he saw Lilian standing up. The light of the moon was reflecting off of her armour, like snow on a frozen pond. “What… what’s wrong with your hair?” Lilian did not know what he meant, but she could sense a little of her hair moving around her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw strands floating upwards, like she was underwater. She didn’t pay it much thought. Telson was her primary concern and judging by the look on his face, he was ready for another round. “Sorcery doesn’t scare me. I’ve fought your kind before,” he walked over to pick up his fallen sword. Lilian mirrored his movements and retrieved her tungsten switch. It felt lighter in her hand than it had before. Telson continued his ranting, “It’s all just smoke and mirrors. If there was any real power behind it, the world would be ruled by sorcery. But it isn’t. It’s ruled by, well, people like me. People who have the courage and intelligence to take charge and remind those beneath them of their roles. Sorcery or not, you all bleed the same.” Lilian knew in that moment why Mr Attorcop had been targeted again and again by The Guiding Hand. It was the slightest crack in Telson’s voice. The smallest tremble, imperceptible really. He was nervous. He was bluffing. Telson began to speak again, but Lilian was done with talking, so she cut him off, “If you ask me…”

“ENOUGH TALK.” Her voice sounded strange as well, but Telson didn’t react. He just sneered.

“Fine by me.”

Telson took two steps forward, skipped a few paces and then launched into a ferocious barrage of attacks. Lilian read his movements. A fourth stance, third movement lunge lead into a quick second stance sweep. A fifth and third slash then a ninth and first punch into third into seventh stance with a modified fourth and second kick. Lilian read them all. If she hadn’t trained with Mistress Eleyna then all the gloaming in the world would not have helped, but her training, combined with this new lunar power helped her to navigate the fight. Her tungsten switch flashed from block to parry with lightning speed. She was defending herself easily enough. But she could sense that she had more to give. Lilian was beginning to feel a connection between her own body and the darkness around her. She would never be able to put it into words, but the night was starting to feel like an extension of herself. She wanted to be behind Telson and so she slipped into a shadow and reappeared behind him, landing a forward kick on his hip as she did. Telson whipped about and refound his balance quickly, but Lilian was already gone. She faded into a moonbeam and projected herself upwards, reappearing ten feet above Telson and flipping into a somersault heel kick. The back of her boot connected with Telson’s head with a sickening crack. He let out a cry and stepped back to regroup. Lilian stood up to meet his eye. For the first time since they had started trading blows, she saw his eyes glance at one of the many doors. He was looking for an escape, but Lilian would not let him go. He was in her web now. The darkness revealed suggestions on how best to trap him. He darted to his left but Lilian was ready. She lifted her right hand and dark tendril fingers appeared from between a floorboard. She shut her fingers and watched the darkness clamp itself around Telson’s ankle. He tripped over and hit his chin on the floor. Lilian saw blood escape from the side of his mouth, he must have bitten his lip on the fall. Lilian asked the darkness for more, and the darkness obeyed. Black tentacles began to rope themselves around him, fixing him in place. He fought them at first, slashing desperately with his sword. But Lilian emerged from a shadow behind him and kicked the sword away.

It slid across the floorboards and stopped at Fritha’s feet. She had stood up and was testing her weight on her kicked leg. Finding that she could walk, she padded over slowly towards them. Lilian knelt down and pressed her forehead on the feinhound’s big head. Her fur was blue with large black spots and it reflected the moonlight beautifully. They turned to stare at Telson. He had stopped struggling against the dark chords and was looking at Lilian and Fritha with wide, horrified eyes. Lilian lifted her mask so that Telson could see her face properly. He looked up at dark green-grey skin and yellow cat-like eyes. Fritha let out a long, low and loud gong and Lilian knew that she had won.

Episode 49

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian was still spellbound by the gift she had just been given. Her noble friend Genevive Katz, had appeared as if from nowhere via the strange little door at the back of Mr Attorcop’s basement residence. She had a bag with her, the contents of which were currently laid out on the table in front of the little group of revolutionaries. Lilian could not take her eyes off the silver helm, expertly beaten into the shape of a glowering feinhound. She shook herself out this stupified state, set the helmet down and hugged Genevive with all her might.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you thank you.” Genevive laughed.

“Well, I thought that if you are going to fight the Empress, you might as well look the part.”

Mr Attorcop picked up the breast plate and examined it from a few different angles.

“Well done on getting the metal so thin, I think that should work nicely.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lilian, letting Genevive go.

“Ah well, you see here,” Genevive began, “Mr Cromwell asked that I make the plates as thin as possible, something to do with you turning invisible. Which, by the way, I would love to see. Or not see! But yes, the plates are thin so be careful eh? They will help against grazes and most weapons but one big direct hit with a heavy sword and they will puncture, so please watch out for that.” Mr Attorcop nodded sagely,

“My thinking was that if the set was too heavy and thick, you would not be able to use gloaming so easily. This, of course, will have to be tested.” Lilian felt guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had not yet told Mr Attorcop that she had used the last of the Lunar Essence to make tattoo ink for a tattoo that didn’t exist. But this was a happy occasion, and that sad news could wait.

“Well, aren’t you going to try it on?” William spoke up from the back of the group. He must have been just as keen as Lilian to see how it would look. Lilian turned to look expectantly at Genevive. She smiled and nodded and before she could say anything Lilian was already grabbing a wrist brace and strapping it to her left arm. The whole suit took about ten minutes to put on, most of that time was spent adjusting the straps to the correct lengths. Genevive had to puncture a few new holes here and there but after a short time the suit was on and Lilian was ready. Mr Attorcop brought a large mirror over and Lilian stood in front of it and admired herself. She had not been overly impressed with the way she had looked attending the Empress’s Summer ball, but looking at her reflection now not only impressed her but it made her feel something more. She turned and watched the armour catch the dim light, the feinhound helmet was intimidating and the suit fit so perfectly that it did not appear clunky like some suits of armour, but sleek and moveable. Lilian looked at her reflection and felt as though she was looking at a version of herself that she aspired to be. A fighter certainly, a legend perhaps. She was so overcome with emotion that she nearly felt like ripping the whole thing off, not believing herself worthy of its greatness.

“I look… good,” she laughed, and the others laughed too. It reminded her of the armour worn by Solveig and the other members of The Hundred. Had she put it on before her time in Zandt she would have felt like a fraud, but now, maybe she was ready.

“Do you think you would be able to try gloaming?” asked Mr Attorcop. Lilian looked at her wrists and legs, she moved about a bit and considered how comfortable it would be to sit down while wearing the suit.

“I think so… Fritha, come here,” the feinhound padded over and the pair sat down on the floor. The armour bent surprisingly well to most movements. Lilian rested her hand on Fritha’s coat and took a deep breath.

Within a few seconds she had found the right rhythm. The world around her began to shift into focus. Fritha’s heartbeat grew louder, followed quickly by the sounds of her friends breathing. She’d never done this with anyone other than Mr Attorcop watching her and it felt a little strange to have an audience. She flipped her focus on herself and found the golden light emitted by her heart. Slowly but surely she began to persuade it to enter into one of Fritha’s hairs. She would only need a little seeing as it was still attached to Fritha and so would still be full of life and energy.

But then, something strange began to happen. Lilian felt a very sudden and powerful force hit her body, as if something inside her was pushing her bones outwards and attacking her organs. Her breath faltered and her heart began to skip beats and palpitate. It was a shock and extremely unpleasant. She snapped her hand away from Fritha and opened her eyes. She found herself back in the basement sweating and gasping for breath. Mr Attorcop, sensing something was wrong, rushed forwards.

“Lilian? What happened, are you alright?” she looked up at him, worried.

“I… I think so. Something strange... I could focus but when I tried gloaming it… I don’t know, I couldn’t.”

“That’s alright, Lilian. It’s been a long time, you’re probably just out of practise.” Lilian got up shakily, putting her weight slowly back on her legs. She did not feel weakened, just unsteady. She nodded her head, hoping he was right. She looked back at William, Genevive and the two Sturgeon’s and felt a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, I… I haven’t done that in a while,” she was worried they might laugh at her, but their faces showed more concern than anything else. Genevive stepped forward.

“Is it the armour?” she asked, “should I make it lighter?” Lilian shook her head.

“No, no, the armour is perfect. Really, it is. I just, I’m tired maybe.” A creeping sense of dread slipped into her mind. What had just happened? Why had she been unable to use gloaming, something she’d practised and done before a hundred times? Her worries were interrupted by the sound of knocking. The group turned to look at the small door again.

“Don’t worry,” Mr Attorcop assured them, noticing how the sound had set everyone on edge, “that will just be Michael.”

The door opened and a young boy, probably about nine years old, poked his head round the door. His cheeks were read, like he’d just been running in the cold. He was about to speak when his eyes fell on Lilian and Fritha and he went silent, his eyes widening in shock.

“Yes, Michael, what is it?” The lad found his voice and looked at Mr Attorcop,

“Lots of people sir, word got round well I think,” this news seemed to make Mr Attorcop happy. He walked over to the door and handed the boy a few copper heads.

“Thank you Michael, we’ll see you there.” The young boy shot Lilian one last look and closed the door. Mr Attorcop turned around and read the confusion on everyone’s faces.

“Now, I have covertly organised a little get together in Chekad Square. We do not need to attend, but I really think it would help our cause if we did.” He looked over at Lilian who was still recovering from the shock of what had happened during her attempt at gloaming. “Lilian, do you think you’re up for going out like that?” He gestured to her suit of armour, “I don’t want you overexerting yourself before tonight.” Lilian glanced at William who looked just as confused as she felt. Looking back at Mr Attorcop, she said,

“I’m not sure. Maybe… What’s tonight?” Mr Attorcop approached her slowly, knelt down so that he was just below her eye level and spoke softly and confidently.

“Tonight, we attack the palace.”

Minutes later, they were popping their heads out of the hidden hatch at the end of the corridor. Lilian was still getting used to moving in her new suit of armour. The shirt and trousers she wore underneath it were bunching a little and she hoped to be able to change them before attacking the palace. As they walked through the mostly empty streets of Freedos, she began to feel a little silly. Anyone looking at their group would see her sticking out like a sore thumb. William, Katrina and Peter did their best to surround her as they went, but it did little good to hide her from any onlookers. The chestplate was bright silver and she was willing to bet that she was the only person for miles around wearing a helmet shaped like a Feinhound’s head. Lilian looked down at Fritha and wished that she could be invisible. Fritha looked up at her and gave a little gong, the fear sound. Lilian nodded. She had no idea what to expect and she was beginning to grow nervous. Fritha licked her fingers as they walked, and Lilian smiled at her. Mr Attorcop was leading the way. He spoke over his shoulder as they went.

“If there are a lot of people then I think you should say a few words.” Lilian’s stomach twisted.

“What?” she felt her forehead grow cold, “what should I say?”

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Mr Attorcop had sensed the tremor in her voice, “just introduce yourself and let them know you’re back in the city and that things will change soon.” Lilian felt fingers interlocking with hers and she looked up to see Katrina, smiling at her.

“Only if you’re comfortable my dear. They’re here to see you, they don’t want to hurt you. Anything you say will be fine, Cromwell has done most of the work already,” she leaned in closer and gave a conspiratorial wink, “the gift is wrapped, you just need to tie the bow.” Lilian nodded.

“Ok,” she said, with what she hoped was more confidence than she felt. Funny, she had been less nervous fighting those two soldiers last night. Talking in front of a few people wouldn’t be so bad, would it? It was barely eighth bell anyway, most folks probably weren’t even awake yet.

But as they neared Checkad square, Lilian began to hear signs of the crowd up ahead. It began as a low hum, the occasional child or group of teenagers raced past, some even pointed at Lilian as they went. The strap under Lilian’s chin seemed to grow tighter. Once they turned the corner and the square came into view, the crowd was revealed. It stretched back, loud and long. Lilian quickly counted a hundred heads but lost count at around two-hundred and fifty. All eyes were on her and her little group. She looked up at Katrina, she was smiling at the crowd and Lilian tried to copy her. She smiled weakly at a woman nearby who was wearing a large bonnet. Her face had a grey streak of dirt on one cheek and it lit up as soon as she saw Lilian’s grin. She waved emphatically and Lilian waved back causing the woman to quickly turn to her friends and gossip excitedly. The crowd parted as they went and the animated chatter dropped to a low hum. By the time they reached the plinth that held the statue of Amala Checkad, the crowd were silent. Lilian turned around to look at everyone. Faces of all ages and social backgrounds stared back at her. Their eyes were tired but their expressions were hopeful. Here and there, she would see a pair of crossed arms and a scowl, a few understandably wary citizens peppering the throng. Lilian was beyond nervous, she instinctively reached out for Fritha and found her there, faithful and by her side. The feel of her fur calmed her. She looked up at Mr Attorcop who nodded, his face a stoic mask. Sensing her trepidation, he stepped forwards, and spoke.

“Friends!” his voice boomed out across the square, “thank you for joining us. You have all been so patient and today, that patience is rewarded.” There was a small smattering of applause and a ‘whoop’ from somewhere distant. Mr Attorcop continued, “This very moment, plans are in motion. The city is ready for change, you can all feel it, I feel it too. But if any change is going to happen, we will all need to play our part. With me today, is a young lady. You may have heard of her many exploits against the Weardian, against the Empress herself. I say, if anyone is going to bring about change, it will be her and us together!” the crowd applauded louder now. Mr Attorcop was setting them up beautifully, Lilian only hoped she would live up to expectations. “I do not wish to speak for her,” he continued, “but I know that she is ready to do what must be done to make the city and all of the western country, a better place. So without further words, please join me in welcoming her back to Freedos.” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Lilian was taken aback, her time had come to take the stage. She stepped forward and took a deep breath.

An expectant silence fell upon the crowd. Lilian quickly scanned a hundred different faces, a hundred pairs of eyes looking at her with a thousand different emotions. A bead of cold sweat ran down from her hairline beneath her helmet. She wanted to speak… but she couldn’t. Thoughts jumbled and language eluded her. She saw the woman she had waved at before, she was three rows behind the children who had pushed their way to the front. She had a worried expression. As Lilian locked eyes with her, her face seemed to will her to speak. With words, still not coming, Lilian grew even more nervous. And so the woman spoke, not too loudly, but loud enough to be heard.

“What’s your name?” Lilian pondered the question.

“My name?” she repeated and suddenly the words were back, “my name… shouldn’t matter. I could be any one of you. So say my name is fear. I’m scared for myself and for my friends and family, just as you are all scared for yours. My name could be frustration and fury. Anger at how those who are supposed to govern and look after us but who are instead neglecting and persecuting us.” A few heads in the crowd began to nod in agreement. “My name is resistance then, not through fighting necessarily, Liebling knows I’m no soldier, but through small acts of defiance that collectively declare that we’ve had enough!” A murmur spread through the square. Then, from the corner of her eye, Lilian saw three soldiers turn a corner and step into the square. They had looks of trepidation and their hands hovered above their sword hilts. “My name is understanding, for I know that we all do what we think is right to protect the ones we love.” She aimed this statement at the soldiers, in the hope that compassion might stay their wrath. When they looked up at her to listen, Lilian continued, finding the words coming easily now. “We all know someone who worked as Weardian just as we have sons, daughters and friends in the army. But these people must now make a choice, just as we all must as well. For my name is revolution. I’m in the air and in the hearts of everyone around me. I come from discontent and mistreatment and my time is right now, today. When it comes to the Empress, my name is vengeance and by the end of tonight, she will look me in the eye and she will know me.”

A cheer roared up from the crowd. Lilian’s chest swelled with pride at the site. A few people stepped forward and took her hand to shake it. Lilian did so but remembered something she’d wanted to say and after bidding hello to the smiling strangers she raised her arms once more to signal for quiet.

“Please, just one more thing. I do not wish anyone to come to harm, just being here today is sign enough to all that you’re willing for things to be different. Do not engage the army, do not storm the palace, leave all of that to us.” This caused some confused and even worried expressions. One man with a red beard barked a reply,

“And if you fail?” he said, “what then? Are we to keep on living as we are? We’re ready to fight.” This caused a round of nods and agreements from the crowd surrounding him. Lilian shook her head and smiled her most reassuring smile.

“Resist in your own way. Leave the fight to us and I promise you, we will not fail.”

Four hours later they were in the Rare Flower Market. Peter had been keen to get back and relieve himself of his bags and Mr Attorcop had thought it unwise to return to the same location. Whilst Peter and Katrina busied themselves in the back room unpacking and bickering about how much Peter had spent in Zandt; Lilian, William, Genevive and Mr Attorcop sat on wicker chairs amongst the tall shelves while Fritha lay on the floor by Lilian’s side. Lilian glanced around at the many jars about her. She noticed that many were looking worryingly empty. It must be tough to get the materials with the army watching everything that was coming in and out of the city.

“I thought it was an excellent speech,” Mr Attorcop was saying, “a touch emotional for my tastes, but it certainly did the trick.” Lilian shot him a smile. She had been proud of herself back then and knew that Mr Attorcop could not resist teasing her.

“So what now? Wait until nightfall and then storm the palace?” William asked. Mr Attorcop considered the question.

“Not quite. Although there is something to be said for a direct approach. Our best bet is to infiltrate the walls covertly. Either go over them undercover of darkness or through a gate unseen.” As he said this last word his gaze fell on Lilian. Lilian twisted uncomfortably in her seat, looking everywhere other than Mr Attorcop’s eyes. She knew he would not blame her, but all the same, Lilian was having difficulty admitting she was not comfortable with trying gloaming again soon. A flash of the sharp, burning pain ran through her mind and she shuddered. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

“Even if I did manage to sneak past the soldiers on guard, how would you all get through?” It was Genevive who answered this.

“In one of the gardens, at the back of the palace, there is a small but sturdy iron door. It is bolted from the inside and probably has not been opened in thirty years. It’s mostly covered in vines, but I’ve seen it there and I know it leads out into the cemetery at the top of Fyremont.” Lilian became excited.

“Well, why don’t we just knock the door down or something? That would avoid having to sneak past any guards all together.” Genevive looked solem and shook her head.

“The bolt is big my love, bigger than my arm and it’s buried deep in the wall. We could be ten men with a battering ram and it would still take us several hours.” Lilian’s heart sank. So it would be up to her after all. Would the pain come back, she wondered. Perhaps if she started now and gave herself a long time…

“I… I just…” she started speaking and Mr Attorcop interrupted.

“Lilian. It’s alright. We’ll find another way.” she smiled but still felt like she was letting everyone down. If this had been a few weeks ago then she would be bounding up there right now, unseen and unheard. But something had changed inside her, and she did not have the time to find out what or why. William broke the tension.

“So we can’t go over the wall, that’s too high. We can't go under it as we have no time, and we can’t get past the soldiers on guard at the gates…” His face contorted in thought, “that is a tricky one.”

Just then, Peter sauntered in from the back room, a look of triumph plastered across his cheeky face. He brandished a jar, roughly the size of a melon, high above his head that seemed to be filled with black dust.

“Or we go through it!” he exclaimed. His entrance and proclamation were met with silence and blank stares. Peter tried again, “Or we go through it!”

“What are you talking about?” said Lilian after wondering briefly if Peter had gone mad.

“You say we’d need a battering ram and ten people,” he said looking at Genevive, “but this jar could do all that and more. Trust me, if we need to get through something big or heavy, this is what we need.” The group leaned in to study the jar. Lilian recognised the scent of rotten eggs coming from it. The jar must contain some of that powder he’d bought in the Zandt marketplace. Mr Attorcop seemed to recognise the smell as well,

“Is that…?”

“Yup!” decried Peter, “got the charcoal from the fireplace in the kitchen and mixed the rest of it just now. I didn’t think I’d be using it this quickly but there’s still some left if we need it again.” Mr Attorcop smiled.

“Very well then. Yes I think this should do nicely, well done Peter. It will cause a rather loud noise so we’ll have to be ready for soldiers coming to investigate. But… yes. I think we might be ready.” he stared at the small group in front of him, a look of devilish mischief in his eyes. “What started as a hunt for answers has become something bigger than all of us. We’ve all been inconvenienced at best and terrified for our lives at worst by the way things in Freedos are run. It took poor Fritha here getting horribly injured to make us realise that The Empress and her ilk have been treating the people of this city as inferior for too long. We are not machines built to funnel money up the mount and into the palace coffers. We are fed up and tonight we change things, forever. Get some rest, sleep if you can, for when darkness falls we shall climb the hill.”

Not long after, Lilian was lying on some soft sacks filled with hay at the back of the shop, trying to rest. It was mid-afternoon and she was too nervous and excited to sleep. Fritha was beside her on the sacks and she had managed to drift off without any trouble. Lilian listened to her gentle snoring and watched her coat cycle through blues, blacks and browns. Lilian shut her eyes and placed her left hand on Fritha’s back. She slowed her breathing and slipped into focus. Being so close to the feinhound meant that Fritha’s heartbeat suddenly boomed like a drum in Lilian’s extra sensitive ears. As she had done so many times before, she flipped her focus inwards and found the golden light coming from her own heart. She coaxed some of it easily to the tips of her fingers and said a little prayer that everything would be okay. But as soon as the first few drops of golden lights left her hand then that searing, burning pain swept through her body at lightning speed. It was like touching a hot stove or pan, but instead of the pain coming from just one place, it was all over her, all at once. It seemed to be worst in her right arm, but Lilian didn’t stay in that state for long enough to explore why. She shut her thoughts off from gloaming and snatched her hand away from Fritha’s back. Fritha, sensing the sudden movement, woke up and twisted her big head back to look at Lilian. Lilian’s heart was pounding, she was worried sick and scared to the pit of her stomach. Fritha sensed this and focused her large, cat-like eyes on Lilian’s sweat-stained face. They were hard to read, but Lilian thought she could detect concern on her furry friend’s face. Fritha stretched and twisted further and extended her long purple tongue to lick Lilian’s cheek softly. She breathed out a long sigh through her black, wet nose. Lilian touched her head and scratched behind her ears.

“Oh lady,” she whispered, “what have I done?”

As night fell across the city the group rose from the depths of the rare flower market and stepped into the pale moonlight. It was cold, but Lilian didn’t mind. The cold was familiar to her and she greeted it as an old friend. The atmosphere in Freedos was one of anticipation. Candles burned in windows and fingers twitched at curtain edges, the folk inside, desperate for a glimpse of the few brave people who were stealing into the dark to take back their city. Katrina and Genevive had stayed behind and so it was William, Peter, Mr Attorcop, Fritha and Lilian who stalked the cobbled streets in silence, listening intently for any signs of soldiers. Lilian looked up and saw flame lit faces peering down at them from the tall apartment windows. She saw children, friends, families and older citizens beaming and egging them on. Lilian smiled up at them all and repeated a silent promise that she would not let them down. She felt nervous but had to admit that there was excitement there as well. Fritha seemed happy to be out and about, but even the fabled feinhound walked with an extra sense of purpose in her padded steps. Mr Attorcop led the way and the group marched on in quiet determination.

Just as the muscles in their legs began to burn from climbing, the old volcano levelled out and they had reached Fyremont. The buildings became more ornate and the colours more vibrant as they made their way into the richest part of the city that wasn’t directly within the palace walls. They took a left down a small street, barely wide enough for two horses to pass each other, and came out of the other end in plain view of the cemetery. It was an old place, officially called Elska’s Place of Rest. Elska was the woman from the stories who cared for those that died or for those that lost someone close to them. The cemetery was enclosed by a small fence and so they passed through a wooden lychgate decorated with flowers to access the main cemetery. Just beyond the entrance was a marble statue of Elska herself, her hands stretched out in front of her as if welcoming you and offering assistance. The group pressed on, entering the labyrinth of tombs and mausoleums. Mr Attorcop knew the way and Lilian tried not to get distracted by the size and opulence of the crypts. Each one was carved more beautifully than the last, with stone animals frozen in play, serene marble faces carved in pearly white and the family names lovingly chiselled into stone. These were the final resting places of the old and wealthy Freedos families. Even in death, thought Lilian, they live better than the poor.

Mr Attorcop’s dark starry cloak pulled dry and crackling leaves along with him as he strode ahead. After a few minutes of twisting and turning through tomb lined pathways he stopped suddenly in his tracks. Lilian caught up to him and saw what had caused the halt. A few yards ahead of them was a large wall, dark, flat, imposing and twenty feet high. Beyond its top Lilian could just about make out the palace spires and above them, the silver moon. At the base of the wall was a large iron door, shrouded in vines and menacing in the moonlight. Around the door however was a very strange site. There was a group of soldiers, at least twenty, all strewn across the floor in various levels of incapacitation. A few of them were tied up and gagged with rags, several seemed to be knocked out completely, face down on the flagstones like forgotten toys. It seems they had been posted there to intercept anyone trying to enter the door, but they had been bested. And recently. Lilian noticed movement from the corner of her eye and she and Mr Attorcop went quickly into defensive stances. Three men emerged from behind a mausoleum. Lilian narrowed her eyes and studied them in the dim light. One of them seemed familiar to her. As they approached however, Lilian began to feel worried. Each of them was wiping a strange, purple ichor out from around their eyes. The man in the middle approached them and raised his hand in greeting.

“Good evening,” he said and Lilian instantly recognised his voice.

“Genero?” she exclaimed.

“The very same!” he stumbled a little as they approached. Clearly he was in the middle of recovering from the fight. “Couldn’t let you lot have all the fun now could we? May it never be said that The Sons of Taymar did not show when the need arose.” Lilian scowled.

“You didn’t show! You were supposed to stop that awful man from selling Nightshade and instead you bought some and disappeared!” it was all she could do to not stamp her foot.

“Ah, you, remember that do you? Ahem… Well I’m a changed man Lilian and I hope that my actions,” he gestured to the bruised and battered soldiers all around him, “will speak for themselves.” Lilian continued to scowl and mumbled something inaudible under her breath.

“I think what my friend is trying to say is ‘thank you’, Mr…” said Mr Attorcop.

“Genaro, Alexi Genaro, founder and leader of The Sons of…”

“Taymar, yes so I gather. This lot cause you much trouble?” he gestured to Peter and they proceeded to step over the soldiers where they lay and headed for the iron door. Genaro turned and led the way.

“A few scratches here and there but nothing we can’t handle. They were surprised to see us though. I think they were expecting to have to fight an old man and a little girl.” Lilian felt like challenging him just so that she could show him what this ‘little girl’ was capable of, but she held her tongue. Genaro and his friends had done them a great service, but it would take more than a few unconscious soldiers to earn her forgiveness, especially if he continued to refer to her as just a little girl.

“I’m sure you gave them quite the shock. Peter, would you be so kind and arrange the, hrm, package?”

“Gladly sir,” said Peter as he bounded towards the door and began reaching into his bag for various materials.

“We’ve had a go at it already,” said Genaro, swaying a little from side to side as he spoke, “damn thing is near impenetrable. We thought you might try to get in this way so we came here on the off chance. Seems like our friends had the same idea.” Mr Attorcop turned around and began to usher them all back.

“Well it’s a good job you came when you did. Now if you will all kindly head back to that row over there we should be able to have it open soon enough.” Genaro looked as though he was about to protest but Mr Attorcop already had his hand in the small of his back and was shoving him gently away from the door. The group went back a fair distance and took cover behind a crypt. Lilian strained her eyes and peered into the darkness. In the distance she saw a fizzing flicker of light. Seconds later, Peter was running at full speed towards them. He managed to find cover behind a large tomb nearby and just as he hit the floor, he put his fingers in his ears. Lilian did the same and was glad that she did, because a moment later a deafening bang echoed out from the wall and rolled through the cemetery and down the mountain. Lilian unplugged her ears and nearly laughed at the shock. She glanced over at Mr Attorcop who had his eyes trained on the rising smoke.

“We’re in.”

Episode 48

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the pouring rain, near the eastern gate, the mural of Lilian and Fritha stood tall and shimmering in the moonlight. There was no mistaking the likeness. But what did it mean? A thousand questions ran through Lilian’s mind but before she could speak any out loud a voice from behind them caught her attention. It was deep, and serious.

“You there!” Lilian, Peter, Serena and Fritha all turned at once to see two soldiers walking towards them. The one who had spoken, continued, “it’s nearly curfew. You should all be indoors…” he stopped mid sentence and mid stride. His eyes widened as they flicked between the mural and Lilian’s face. “Twelve hells,” he muttered.

Lilian, sprang to action. Splashing through the puddles she was beside the soldiers before they even had time to draw their swords. Lilian used a modified 7th stance, 2nd movement to jump the last few feet and kick the first soldier's right hand so that his sword went back into its scabbard. This meant she could twist easily around and block the other man’s sword from striking her. She managed to catch his arm, twist his wrist and slap the blade clean out of his grip, sending it crashing and splashing to the floor. She could sense their panic, their inexperience and she took full advantage of both. The first soldier was still fixated on getting his sword out, believing this would save him, but Lilian kicked it back in, this time catching the man’s left hip crease, causing him to stumble back. There to grab his coat was Fritha. Lilian saw the terror in his eyes as she yanked him backwards, forcing him to ground. She bared her teeth as she stepped on his shoulder and stood over him. The second soldier was also on the floor, scrambling in the muck to find his sword. As soon as he managed to clasp its handle however, Lilian's foot was on the blade, trapping his fingers against the paving stone. He looked up at her.

“You won’t get away with this,” he said through gritted teeth, “we’ll notify the Empress.” Lilian wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so she simply said,

“Good,” before performing a 1st stance, 3rd form twisting punch to his chin, and knocking him out cold.

The first soldier was still stuck under a 180 pounds of feihnhoud, wriggling and writhing to try and break free. Lilian bent down to pick up the sword at her feet and approached him.

“Get this beast off of me…” she heard him say from beneath layers of wet, black fur.

“Fritha, enough,” ordered Lilian. Fritha stepped away but as the soldier went to stand, he was met by the tip of his colleague's sword, touching his throat. He froze.

“Stay here for ten minutes,” said Lilian, “don’t follow us.” The grown man swallowed and nodded slowly. Lilian, her gaze still fixed on his eyes, bent down and finally took his sword from its sheath.

“Please,” he said, “they’ll dock our pay.”

“Then you should quit,” replied Lilian, before turning around and breaking into a run, a sword in each hand. She waved at her friends to follow and a few minutes later, they were navigating the backstreets of Old Town, looking for shelter.

“Impressively handled,” said Peter as he overtook her and began guiding them to the inn. Lilian had acted mostly on instinct, the mural still troubling her conscious mind. She snapped back to reality and slid the swords into a gutter. “It’s just here,” she heard Peter whisper up ahead. As they turned the corner, Lilian smiled in delight. The inn Peter had been leading them to was none other than The Greedy Goose, the first inn Lilian had stayed at after meeting Katherine. Her heart swelled with happy sadness. She thought of Katherine and her kindness and remembered the warm welcome The Goose had given her and Fritha. The feeling cut even deeper when compared with these cold, strange circumstances. Peter pushed the door open and Lilian was glad to see that the fire was lit. The room was quieter than she remembered, but a friendly face popped up from behind the serving counter as they entered.

“Good evening, you’re just in time. We were about to lock the… oh my stars.” The woman, who Lilian remembered was called Beatrice, stared at their group, dumbfounded.

“Hello Beatrice, it’s been some time.” It took a few seconds for Beatrice to find her voice.

“It’s Lilian, isn’t it? And your strange dog. You stayed here nigh a year back,” she came out from behind the counter, “oh it’s all anyone’s talking about. People been coming here just to sit where you sat. I tells em you sat all over but they seem to like this table here. Look, the wood is still chipped from where Fritha chewed it.” She gestured to a battered table leg in the corner. Lilian was still very confused.

“Beatrice, we couldn’t stay the night could we?”

“My dearest girl,” replied the landlady, “you stay as long as you like! Amount o’ business you brought me these past weeks I should think you and your friends can stay for nought. Aye you keep your purses where I can’t see em, your money ain’t no good here. Sit, sit by the fire, I’ll fetch some stew to warm your cockles and souls.” The three friends exchanged looks of confusion and went to sit by the fire.

The heat was a welcome relief from the bitter rain. The party removed their cloaks and hung them by the fire, Fritha flopped down onto the rug by the hearth and Lilian, Peter and Serena sat and waited on the large sofas nearby.

“Right, seeing as no one else is saying it, I’ll go ahead,” Serena piped up, “what on earth is going on?” Peter shrugged.

“Some kind of martial law by the looks of things. Although what Lilian’s got to do with it, I’ve no idea.” Just then, Beatrice came back holding a tray with four bowls on it, filled to the brim with a sweet smelling broth. She set the tray down and took a bowl to Fritha while the others thanked her and reached for theirs. Lilian breathed in the sweet scent before eagerly tucking in. It tasted divine, the sweetness of the vegetables perfectly balanced by the salted beef. Lilian nearly burned the roof of her mouth in her eagerness to devour the meal. After a few bites, Lilian came to her senses and finally asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“Beatrice,” she said, her mouth full of carrot, “Can I ask: What’s going on?”

“What do you mean my love?” said their hostess, as she went about pushing a few seats under tables.

“Well, why are there soldiers everywhere? Why is there a curfew and why is there a massive painting of me and Fritha on the wall by the easter gate?” Beatrice chuckled,

“Not just that wall my darling. Oh… oh o’course, you been gone. Hm…” her face contorted into a look of concentration. “Well, oh seven heavens, where to begin…” She pulled a chair towards them, sat down, and took a deep breath.

“I suppose it started that day of the fire. Everyone heard about it. The Weardian headquarters burned down, nigh on exploded judging from the people who saw it. People started asking what happened, officially it was a spark from a fireplace, but that stank of lies. Little spark exploding a whole building and everyone in it? Codswallop. But then, the other story began to spread. The one of the little girl with red hair. The one with the strange beast always by her side. She was seen there, she fought the weardian, she exploded the building and freed all of them imprisoned inside. Of all the brave men in this city, it was a young woman who freed us. People rejoiced, started painting your pictures, singing your praises. They’d come in here and sit over there just to be where’d you’d been. Our liberator. Resist, was the word. And now it had meaning. The rest of the Weardian were chased away, and Freedos was ours again. Only the Empress, she didn’t like that. She called the army back from the front and now we’ve got curfews and checkpoints and soldiers breathing down our necks. But the word lives on. Resist. We whisper it like the breath that fans the flames. Little acts of bravery where before there was only cowardice. You’re a hero, Lilian, an inspiration, and Liebling knows we needed one.”

Lilian had stopped eating. The story was only partly true. Lilian had been there but she’d had nothing to do with the explosion. She felt like correcting Beatrice but something in her expression stopped her. Despite the rain, despite the curfew and military presence, Beatrice looked genuinely happy. Thrilled even. Her face was the picture of hope and Lilian didn’t have the heart to take that away. She looked over at Peter and Serena who both looked how she felt. Their eyes were wide in shock and amazement. Lilian had only one thought which she spoke aloud once Beatrice had finished her story,

“I need to see Cromwell.”

They spent the night in the Greedy Goose’s comfortable rooms. Lilian insisted on having the one she’d stayed in when she’d first arrived, despite Beatrice’s protestations that she have the largest room at the inn. Serena gladly accepted that offer on her behalf. Lilian found the little bed and enjoyed reminiscing about the day she’d met Katherine and how she’d discovered the vial of Lunar Essence hidden in Kissandra’s blade. Her head was full of memories and questions, but sleep quickly drove them out.

The next morning they donned their hooded cloaks and bid farewell to Beatrice and her husband. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still overcast. Lilian decided to wear her hood up, not wanting to risk her red hair giving her away. It was still early when they left The Greedy Goose so the streets were still relatively empty. They were heading for Mr Twitchett’s basement and so took the small winding, cobbled streets up through the Old Town. They passed more graffiti on the way, words like ‘resist’ or ‘smash’ and even one that said ‘she fights for you, so fight for her’ with a picture of a red haired girl beside it. At one point, they turned off the main road only to look back at Serena, standing still and gazing up the hill.

“Serena?” Peter approached her. She looked at him with sorrow in her eyes.

“I should be heading back. My footman went ahead of us so mother will be expecting me.” Her tone was hesitant. Peter glanced back at Lilian before going over to her. He said something in a low voice that Lilian did not catch. It was clear from her body language that Serena was extremely reluctant to leave them. The world of the nobility, lavish as it was, held sour memories and a bitter future for her. Lilian was about to go over and explain that all of that would change within the next few days. They were going to topple the Empress from her throne and the poor folk of Freedos would get a say in how things are run and how they are treated. The nobles would need to get used to some changes, but all would be better in the end. Lilian took a step towards Peter and Serena, she even started to say something, when she froze. Peter had taken Serena’s waist and pulled her close to him and before Lilian could utter a word, they were kissing. Lilian, not knowing what to do, looked down at Fritha. The feinhound looked as bewildered as she was. The kiss did not last long, but Serena was smiling when it finished. She broke away, waved at Lilian, muttered a promise to Peter and with a whirl of cotton cloak, she was gone.

Peter walked slowly back to where Lilian and Fritha were standing. His face was red and grinning.

“What?” he asked.

“No, nothing. I just… no no. Shall we, um, keep going?” she said.

“Lead the way,” he gestured forwards and they resumed their journey, “sorry if that was a shock,”

“No need to be sorry, I was just, yeah I didn’t think you two. It’s good though, she’s great and you’re… yeah you’re great so. Great!” Lilian felt her cheeks flush, she was not familiar with the world of romantic feelings. Peter smiled.

“You didn’t realise while we were in Zandt...” Lilian thought back. A few things quickly fell into place in her mind, but she had to admit that she had been so preoccupied with her own feelings that she had not noticed those of her friends. They laughed at her obliviousness and shared fond memories of their time in the sandy city. Ten minutes later though, they were at Mr Twitchett’s basement and the conversation turned to more serious matters.

“Do you think he’s in?” Peter asked as they approached the trap door.

“Only one way to find out.” Lilian stomped on the door three times, stood back, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Peter grew impatient.

“It might be open.” He took a step forward and grabbed the metal ring that was bolted to the wood. To their surprise, the trap swung open in a wide arc. There was no light coming from inside. Lilian felt Fritha wriggle past them and failed to grab her before she headed straight down and disappeared into the darkness.

“Lady! No!” Without another second’s hesitation, Lilian went after her. It was rare for the lights to be off and for the trap to be unlocked, but Lilian had to put her trepidations aside lest Fritha come to harm. The stairs creaked under her weight and Lilian squinted into the darkness.

“Hello?” she said, “is… is there anybody there?” Suddenly a bright light filled the room. It was so sudden that Lilian instinctively went into a guard position and shielded her eyes from its source.

“Lilian?” a familiar voice spoke her name and once her eyes had adjusted Lilian saw the dark form of Mr Attorcop walking across the basement floor towards her.

“Cromwell!” she beamed and jumped the last few steps towards him, crashing into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Fritha clanged some happy chimes and the trio were reunited.

“It’s good to see you,” said Mr Attorcop.

“And you,” she released him from the hug and examined his face. It had only been a few weeks, but he seemed markedly older than when she’d left. His eyes were framed by a few more lines and his cheeks seemed thinner. But he was smiling, and so Lilian was happy. “What are you doing in the dark?” she asked.

“A security measure, I’m afraid. We can’t be taking any risks these days.”

“We?” Lilian looked past him and saw Katrina and William, beaming and waving.

“Mum!” Peter dropped his bags to the floor, ran past them and went to hug his mother. Lilian greeted William and then looked past him, expecting to see someone else.

“Where’s Katherine?” the happy atmosphere was punctured by the question. William shared a sorrowful look with Mr Attorcop.

“Why don’t you take a seat Lily,” he said in his most calming voice, “we have a lot to tell you.”

Peter was sent to fetch food and when he came back with an armful of sandwiches, pies and sweet breads, the group caught up. Lilian told them about what they had been doing in Zandt, with Peter adding the occasional detail. They mentioned their new found friendship with Serena, but nothing more. Mr Attorcop was keen to know more about her and congratulated them on finding an ally in the nobility. Lilian saw her more as a friend than an ally, but ever since coming back to Freedos, things did seem a little more military than usual. On that note, Mr Attorcop informed them that the army had been called in a couple of weeks after Lilian had left the city and after the Weardian had given up their positions as guardians.

“It was a harsh measure, but one we knew The Empress was capable of,” said Mr Attorcop, “While on the one hand it makes life difficult for the citizens of the city, it does help us a little.”

“How’s that?” asked Lilian,

“It tells us that she is desperate. She’s playing her last card. If we can beat it, then we can win.” Lilian nodded, sagely. She wanted to ask how they would go about doing that, but one burning question still hadn’t been answered.

“Where is Katherine?” she turned to look at William, his face fell at the asking.

“There were still some Weardian left after… After what Zadoch did. They knew that they couldn’t catch and keep a member of the holy solar order, let alone one as high ranking as Zadoch. They also knew that he would not have done what he did without having been asked. Witnesses saw you and Katherine there and so it didn’t take them long to figure out that it was she…” he trailed off and looked down at the floor. Lilian protested,

“But, she didn’t know, she was worried about me, not about…”

“It didn’t matter,” William cut her off, “members of the order cannot act without being asked. Zadoch acted as he saw fit but it was Katherine who bore the brunt of the punishment. She was arrested by a man called Taymore Brown. A captain of the Weardian.” The name wrung bells in Lilian’s head.

“Taymor… Brown? That’s Katherine’s surname.” William nodded.

“Yes. He’s her husband.”

Lilian’s stomach dropped. She’d seen him on the office floor of the Weardian headquarters. The man with the stern, angular face. Even then she knew that she recognised him. But he wasn’t some officer she had seen patrolling the streets, he had been with Katherine the day she had met her. Lilian had seen them together whilst trying to steal a loaf of bread.

“He’s her husband?” she exclaimed. William nodded.

“They didn’t talk much, even before the arrest but still, I think it broke his heart to do it.”

“So, where is she now?” she asked. Mr Attorcop took over.

“She’s being held in the tower.” Lilian had never been to the lonely, desolate prison on the marshes north of the city. It wasn’t the kind of place you visited as a tourist. She thought of her friend in a cold and damp cell, afraid and alone. Anger bubbled up inside her.

“If I ever see Zadoch again I’m going to thump him.” Mr Attorcop looked at her sternly.

“I highly advise against that. But yes, he would deserve it. However…” Katrina interrupted her friend.

“Don’t start with that Cromwell.”

“All I’m saying is, think of where we would be without him. Lilian might be dead and I would surely still be in a Weardian cell.” he looked back at Lilian, “Katherine is strong. We will find her, you have my word.” Lilian bit her tongue. She would have to be patient, something she had never been very good at.

“So,” she said, shaking off the creeping feeling of hopelessness, “what do we do now? What’s the plan? Oh, and why are there pictures of me all over the city?” Mr Attorcop leaned back in his chair and smirked. It was that annoying smile he used whenever he knew something you didn’t.

“Yes, that was partly my doing.” Lilian didn’t understand.

“You painted them?”

“Goodness no,” he replied, “I’m a terrible artist. But one thing I am good at, as I told you when we first met, is the manipulation of power. I knew that if we were to succeed in this endeavour, we would need the people’s support. And what better way to get that than to give them someone to fight for.” Lilian was beginning to understand. Mr Attorcop continued. “A few stories in the right places and word of your exploits quickly spread. You’ve become a bit of a legend while you’ve been away. And I’ll admit, I’m rather proud of the work.” Katrina scoffed,

“I said he should have asked your permission first.” The two friends looked at each other and Katrina relented, rolling her eyes at Mr Attorcop’s self assurance, “but I’ll admit it is rather clever. We knew the Empress had you in her sights already. This way might make it a bit more difficult for you to go about the city unnoticed, but it protects you from her as well.”

“How?” asked Lilian.

“If the whole city loves you and the Empress harms a hair on your head then she would give them further reason to despise her. What Cromwell has done is trap her. I would respect the tactic more if he wasn’t so smug about it.” Lilian smiled at her mentor. Of course it had all been his doing. Not only that, but he’d done it, in his own twisted way, to protect her. “As to your earlier question, we do have a plan and the sooner we act on it, the better…” At that moment a sound from the back of the room drew Lilian’s attention away from the conversation. She looked up to see where it had come from. It was a scratching, rattling noise and the others had noticed it too. Mr Attorcop put a finger up to his lips, signalling for the group to keep quiet. Lilian searched the darkness at the other end of the basement and her eyes fell on the small door in the far wall. She had almost forgotten that it was there. They had never managed to get it open in all their time there and Lilian had just assumed it would be more storage space. But right now, someone or something was in there, and it was twisting the handle to get out.

Lilian stood up and walked towards the door, readying her feet and fists for a fight. There was a loud click and the little door swung open.

“Hello? Am I too late?” A familiar voice came from beyond the door and soon after a friendly face appeared. Lilian was shocked and delighted.

“Genevive!?” The young noblewoman stepped into the basement and smiled.

“Hello Lilian! It’s so good to see you.” Lilian ran over to hug her. She was wearing high waisted cotton trousers and a pink shirt and she was carrying a rather large bag which she had to set down before hugging Lilian back.

“How did you…?” Lilian gestured to the door in confusion. Mr Attorcop explained,

“I managed to get it open a few weeks ago. It was a corridor that lead to nowhere. I did some construction work upwards and popped up in a small park a few hundred feet away. We’ve been using it as an entrance.” Lilian smiled, “it was actually Bried who gave me the idea. I knew she had someone watching the trap door so we needed another way to access the space. I’ll show you where it comes out later.” Lilian half expected more people to pop out of the wardrobes and desks but she was content with her seeing her new friend.

“I have so much to tell you! I made friends with Serena Bellaswan. You remember her from the party?”

“Oh yes I remember, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. But first my dear…” Genevive reached down and grabbed the large bag. It was black and tied together with thin rope, “I have something for you.” Lilian stepped back in confusion.

“For me?” a pang of guilt hit her suddenly. She hadn’t brought back anything from Zandt, they had left in such a hurry, souvenirs had not been on her list of priorities, “I’m sorry, I haven’t got you anything.” Genevive waved the comment away,

“Oh, don’t worry about that. This is more of a practical gift anyway, come.” She took her over to one of the large tables by the wall. Judging by the way she hoisted the bag onto it, its contents were heavy. Lilian was curious.

“Genevive made herself known to us soon after you left, she has been an incredible asset to our cause.” Mr Attorcop explained.

“Oh I’m just doing what anyone would do in my situation,” she replied. Mr Attorcop shook his head.

“You’re too modest,” he replied.

“Well, let me show you what I’ve made and then we will judge.” The others gathered round while Genevive undid the strings and unfolded the bag. The material spread across the table revealing several objects kept inside. Light reflected off them and onto Genevive’s face.

“There, what do you think?”

Lilian examined the contents of the bag with rapt attention. In front of her, broken down into various elements, all shimmering silver polished to a shine was a suit of armour. Her eyes widened as she leant forward to examine the details. The breastplate was the largest item. Smaller than most she had seen and mounted on boiled leather it looked like it would fit her form perfectly, once the straps connecting it to the back piece had been tightened. It was layered to allow for movement making the lower half look like scales or interlocking reptilian plates. There were leg braces, anklets and wrist guards too. All these were decorated with beautifully intricate swirls and shapes. Lilian recognised some symbols from the Stave Church walls in Benlunar, and knew that Genevive would have taken the time to research the art of her hometown. Her vitals would be protected but her joints would be free to allow for more movement. The most arresting item however, was the helmet. Lilian reached out and picked it up.

“Well… do you like it?” Genevive sounded nervous. Lilian wanted to speak but was having trouble finding the words.

“It’s… it’s incredible.” She was turning the helmet around in her hands, examining every detail of the animal it resembled. Should she put it on, her face would look out through the jaws, her chin protected by the strap of beaten silver teeth. The creature’s expression above was a perfect mixture of fierceness and serenity. Fritha appeared beside her, curious to see what everyone was looking at. Lilian brought the helmet down to show her.

“Look Fritha. It’s you.”

Episode 47

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The next day, Lilian went to meet Mistress Eleyna in the southern quarter of Zandt. The buildings were built slightly taller here and although they had originally been painted white, many of their walls were now adorned with works of art. On their way to the address they had been given, Lilian and Fritha walked past giant murals depicting veiled faces, thousands of flowers and even the occasional mythical creature. Lilian was glad for the distractions. She had been debating the idea of getting a tattoo all night. Peter had been against it, claiming the chemicals used in certain inks were untested and dangerous. Serena was intrigued and had instantly asked about what design Lilian would choose. Lilian still wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted the tattoo, let alone what design she would get. Mistress Eleyna had assured her that it was just a silly tradition and that there were many people who never got one. But Lilian had worked very hard these past few weeks and she felt as though that effort warranted some sort of commemoration. Besides, the idea of a tattoo had secretly been brewing in her mind for a while now, long before she arrived in Zandt. It was for this reason she had brought along the jar of earth that Mr Attorcop had brought back from the dead forest. She had spoken to Peter about it last night and they had agreed that while potentially dangerous, the mixture of dead earth and lunar essence could make for a powerful substance.

“You know tattoos are placed under the skin right?” Peter had said, “so that means that if you use this as ink, you’ll be getting it into your blood.” Lilian had considered the risks all night. If they had not had their supply of lunar essence stolen from them, Lilian might have reconsidered. But if there was even a slight chance that her plan would work, she knew she had to take it. The vial of essence jangled against the jar of earth in her shoulder bag as Lilian hopped up a flight of steps lined in copper coloured clay. If Mistress Eleyna’s instructions were to be trusted, the meeting point would be just up here and around the corner.

Lilian walked past two young women who were chatting on a step. She glanced briefly at their arms and shoulders, they were covered with intricate floral designs. Lilian was reminded of the palace gardens in Freedos, only these were monochrome dark brown with too many swirls and pathways to count. They smiled at her as she walked past and Lilian smiled back. Fearing being late she decided to turn back and ask them for directions, if anyone would know where the parlour was, surely they would. One of them looked confused and glanced at her friend, she knew more of Lilian’s language and replied in her broken speech.

“Yes. Tattoach. Up on… er… balcon. Balcony.” She pointed up the stairs and Lilian recognised the word ‘balcony’. She bowed her thanks and sped on up the steps. After a few more twists and turns, she found the balcony they were speaking of.

It had to be reached via a ladder which was wrapped in vines and nearly invisible to the un-searching eye. In fact, if Lilian hadn’t heard Mistress Eleyna’s stern voice coming from somewhere above her, she might have walked past the ladder and missed the balcony altogether.

“Ah, Lilian! You found us.” Mistress Eleyna greeted her with a smile as Lilian's head popped up over the railing. Fritha was having difficulty climbing the ladder so a large basket was dropped down using a winch, the arm of which swung out over the edge of the balcony. Lilian guessed it was used for transporting supplies but Fritha seemed happy enough to get in the basket and be hoisted skywards like a bag of multicoloured fruit. It wasn’t until Fritha was safely retrieved that Lilian noticed the view from where they were. The balcony looked out over the entire southern quarter of the city and from this height, Lilian could see the colours of the hundreds of rooftop gardens stretching out into the distance and turning the white city into a jungle of luscious greens, reds and yellows.

“You must be Lilian.” A voice drew her attention to the dark doorway behind her. A man was there, short and smiling. He wore white, loose fitting trousers and no shirt. His dark tanned body was littered with images and designs. The colours used in his tattoos were more vibrant and vivid than any Lilian had ever seen. Her eye was drawn to a particularly bright bird on his left shoulder, it’s wings were red and tinted with what looked like gold. There was a dog with a sad expression on his lower right side and his right arm was the perfect pictorial representation of a park scene. Lilian could see the hanging pink flowers of a cherry blossom reflected perfectly in the rippling water of the pond beneath it.

“Yes! Sorry. Yes I’m Lilian.”

“Welcome,” he replied, “I’m Hafiz, please, come in.” Lilian felt a pang of nerves flare up in her stomach. Hafiz seemed friendly and judging by his own body, certainly talented, but Lilian was still unsure. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Mistress Eleyna, smiling down at her.

“Lilian, you know you don’t have to get anything, yes? Hafiz does not care either way.” Lilian smiled, glad for the reassurance.

“Thank you. I know.” They both stepped inside, out of the glaring sun. It took a few seconds for Lilian’s eyes to adjust, but once they had, she was met with a charming site.

The room was larger than she had expected, filled to bursting with art work on every wall, sculptures on every table and the smell of incense and oil paint hanging in the air. Hafiz was bustling around a large chair, cleaning some equipment.

“So,” he spoke with a piece of charcoal hanging out of one side of his mouth, “Eleyna says you are a fighter?” Lilian nodded while looking at an unfinished painting of a cottage, resting on an easel. “Hmm,” he replied, “I’m more of an artist than a fighter. But I suppose there is some artistry in fighting.” He smiled at Mistress Eleyna who rolled her eyes. These two were clearly old friends. “Although,” he continued while Lilian brushed her finger tips along the edge of a sculpture of a hand, “I would say art is more about creating life, than ending it.” Mistress Eleyna raised her eyebrows, “What would you know about creating life, maart?” Lilian knew that this meant ‘man’. Hafiz raised his hands in mock surrender,

“Truth! Truth Eleyna. Now, Miss Lilian. If you were to get something painted today, did you have a design in mind?” Lilian thought for a moment and came to an image that she’d had in her head for many months now.

“I was thinking, perhaps, a mountain with the moon above it.” Hafiz considered this, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in thought.

“Hmm, something special about this mountain?” Lilian nodded.

“I grew up in a mountainside town. I thought having my home with me would be nice.” Hafiz nodded and Eleyna smiled at her. Hafiz grabbed a bit of parchment and began sketching something out with the piece of charcoal he’d kept in his mouth. His hands moved quickly, and Lilian approached him, dying to see what kind of thing he would come up with. She heard him mutter under his breath.

“Could go abstract, nice shapes, a triangle and a circle. But no, the moon is too complex to be reduced to just her shape. And the mountain, hmm, perhaps some snow here…” He mumbled like this for a few minutes and eventually flattened the page out on a small table in front of Lilian.

He’d actually done several designs, each one in a different style. Lilian liked them all, and was instantly reminded of Benlunar, which made her smile. They discussed them for a while and Hafiz mixed one of the moons with a different mountain and added a few more details under Lilian’s instruction. Eventually they’d found a design that they both liked and Lilian realised that it was nearly time to make the decision. She was feeling good about it, and although she’d heard about the amount of pain getting a tattoo done could cause, it couldn’t be much worse than five weeks of rigorous combat training, or being thrown out of a window for that matter.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Lilian reached into her bag and pulled out the jar of dirt and the vial of Lunar essence.

“Hmm,” said Hafiz, “what have we here?”

“I was wondering,” replied Lilian, “if you could mix these things to create the ink?” Hafiz looked up at Eleyna.

“You say she’s never had a tattoo and here she is mixing her own inks?” He smiled and went back to examining the contents of the jars. “May I?” he went to open the jar of earth, Lilian nodded. He examined the earth, smelled it and crushed some between his fingers. He then turned his attention to the vial of essence. It’s shining light illuminated the designs on his chest, giving them a shimmering, lifelike quality.

“Hmm, yes yes. I understand. More than life, less than death. The agent and the reactor, making you the catalyst. Very clever.” He stood up quickly and went over to a desk in the corner. It was overflowing with glass containers.

“Please, be careful…” Lilian warned but Hafiz was already turning to assuage her.

“Fear not, young one. I know precious things when I see them. I had thought today would be a young person’s first tattoo, very normal for me, but now I see. Today is the day I prove myself. The most important day of my life as an artist. Today, I deal with real mana.” Lilian wasn’t sure what he meant, but something about his excitement and his handling of the vials made her trust him. She nodded and he went over to the desk.

While he pottered about, cleaning beakers and measuring out precise amounts with a copper scale, Mistress Eleyna approached Lilian.

“Lilian, where did you get those things?” Lilian looked up at her Mistress.

“It’s a long story. The glowing liquid is from my home, but the earth is from somewhere else. Somewhere dead and distant.” Mistress Eleyna looked at her with a look of understanding, she then glanced at Fritha.

“I knew you were a strange girl from when I first saw you. You fought well that day. But getting to know you and getting to teach you… it’s been a real pleasure for me. Thank you Lilian.” Lilian was shocked. She had not expected this and was momentarily stuck for words.

“No Mistress Eleyna, thank you! I’ve learned so much. And I feel less... scared now.” Mistress Eleyna nodded in understanding. Fritha approached them and let out a calming purr. Mistress Eleyna ruffled the tuft of fur on her head and Fritha’s coat cycled through turquoise blues and fluorescent yellows.

“She’s going to miss you,” said Lilian.

“And I will miss you both. But you will come back. I know it in my heart. This is not our last time together.” Lilian smiled at the surety in her voice. Hafiz shuffled back towards the group of chairs, having finished whatever he was doing over by the desk. In his right hand he held an ink well. Inside it, Lilian could just make out a swirling, shimmering, black liquid.

“We do not have much time,” he said, gesturing to the liquid. Lilian realised suddenly that she had never actually made the decision to get the tattoo, but her life had brought her to this point and it would seem strange to go against it. Like fighting a wave, instead of surfing it to safety. She looked at Mistress Eleyna, then to Hafiz, and she nodded.

“The moon. The mountain.” Hafiz smiled.

“The moon. The mountain.” Lilian repeated, and the art began.

Once Lilian was comfortable, she rested her wrist on the arm of a large, soft chair. Hafiz brought a small stool towards her and rested the inkwell on a little table, next to the chair. From there, he picked up two sticks, one of which had the smallest of metal attachments, jutting out of one end. This he dipped into the ink, took a deep breath, and got to work. Lilian watched him for a while. He would bring the metal end of the stick to her skin and tap it lightly with the other tool which he held in his opposite hand. At first, Lilian didn’t see what all the fuss was about. She felt the impact of each tap, and even saw the metal spikes draw blood from her arm. But she felt no pain. At first. After a few taps, the process began to sting. Then it began to hurt, and then, it began to burn. She clenched her fist tight and leant her head back on the chair. She tried to distract herself by looking at the artworks around her, by talking to Mistress Eleyna but nothing worked. Each tap drew her back to the moment, back to the burning. Regret began to pace through her mind, why had she done this? What was she thinking? What would her mother say?

“You’re doing great, little one,” she heard Mistress Eleyna through a red haze of pain. Lilian tried to smile but felt embarrassed by a hot tear streaming down her cheek.

“Is it nearly over?” she asked, through gritted teeth.

“Nope, just getting started.” Hafiz mumbled. Lilian let out a string of curses which would have made Brother Thomas blush. Hafiz laughed, “Good! Keep going, whatever you need to do.” Lilian thought about what she needed to do and gave in to the impulse that had been bubbling inside her for the past few minutes. With a deep breath, a look up and a clenched fist, Lilian let out a long and solemn scream. Fritha joined in with a howl, the pain subsided a little and Lilian settled in for the long, motionless journey.

Two and a half hours felt like a lifetime but finally it was over. Hafiz wiped away the blood and applied a salve to the affected area.

“Do not wash this off until this time tomorrow, understand?” Lilian nodded, at least, she thought she nodded, it was hard to be sure through the fuzzy confusion affecting her head. Mistress Eleyna helped her stand-up, gave her a drink of fresh water and walked her about the room. Lilian didn’t recall much after that, but she did remember reaching into her pocket for a golden crown and placing it on Hafiz’s desk by way of payment. She then vaguely recalled descending the ladder and having Mistress Eleyna guide her through the streets of Zandt, back towards her accommodation. She remembered seeing Peter and Serena, waiting for her in the kitchen, and having them feed her some sweet bread. Their voices were echoey and far away and Lilian did not remember anything that they’d said. Upon waking up in her bed the next day however, she did recall the letter they had given her. It was over on the desk beside her bed now and Lilian got up quickly to reread it. The stinging from her arm prevented her from moving too fast and she looked down at the green salve which had hardened in the night and was now cracked and flaking. Ignoring the pain, she went to the letter. She had not dreamed it then, it was just how she recalled it from her semi-lucid state. It was neatly folded parchment with a familiar scrawl on it in black ink. The handwriting belonged to Mr Attorcop and the whole letter was comprised of just seven words.

The time is right. Return to Freedos.

Had it been up to Lilian she might have stayed a few more weeks in Zandt, brushing up on her fighting technique, exploring the city and maybe finding out more about the Holy Solar Order. But she trusted her mentor back in the city and if she was to succeed in toppling a regime, then she would need to get back to where she was needed. When she went to the kitchen, she found Peter already packing his bags.

“Ah! You’re up! How you feeling?”

“Heavy,” Lilian replied, gesturing to her head.

“Aye, that’ll be dehydration, drink this,” he passed her a canteen and Lilian took a swig. The water was cool and refreshing. “Little sips, all day, understand?” Lilian nodded, fighting the urge to drink the whole can in one go.

“You saw the letter then?” she said, nodding to the bags.

“We read it together, you don’t remember?” Lilian shook her head, “Well, needless to say, the time has come.” Lilian heard a hint of sadness in his voice. “I walked Fritha to the harbour this morning and booked us passage on a ship. It leaves this evening. The captain was wary at first but I think he changed his mind when he saw her.” He pointed at Fritha who was sniffing around beneath the kitchen counter for any dropped food.

“Oh? Why’s that?” asked Lilian, raising her voice slightly and then instantly regretting it as it made her head throb. Peter shrugged,

“Not sure. But news travels fast amongst sailors, maybe our friend Captain Terne has been singing her praises.” he paused and looked at Lilian with a serious expression, “Will you be okay to travel today?” Lilian nodded.

“I’ll be fine. I just… I want to say goodbye to Mistress Eleyna if I can.” Peter nodded in understanding.

“Well, the ship is called The Darling and she’s set to leave mid afternoon. We can meet you on board.” Lilian looked up,

“We?” she repeated.

“Serena is travelling back with us.” Lilian smiled at this. She hadn’t properly chatted with her new friend in a few days and was eager to show her the tattoo. She glanced down at the green, flaky paste on her arm. It itched like mad, but Lilian was under strict instructions not to touch it. That at least, she remembered.

After a bite to eat and a few more sips of fresh water. Lilian headed out with Fritha to make the climb to the temple, one last time. She savoured every step, turning around often to marvel at the white city. Once inside the temple, she headed straight for the main hall where she knew she would find Garold and Mistress Eleyna. She could hear their swords clashing from the entrance passage and smiled when she stepped into the great hall and saw her classmate desperately trying to defend himself against a flurry of attacks.

“Lilian!” he shouted, “Please step in, I have forgotten how mean she is.” Lilian smiled and waited for them to finish their lesson. When they took a break she explained to both of them about the letter and how she needed to leave. Mistress Eleyna seemed sad.

“Your lessons are far from finished.”

“I know,” agreed Lilian, “but I can’t stay. I promise I’ll practise my stances every day though.” Mistress Eleyna nodded. Garold gave her a big hug and Lilian wished him the best of luck with his career in the army. She then turned to Mistress Eleyna and bowed, half out of respect and half to prevent her Mistress from seeing the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Lilian reached into her pocket and pulled out two gold crowns, “for the lessons.” Mistress Eleyna took them.

“Thank you,” she stared at the coins, thinking about what to say. “Remember to shift your weight on your third stance, fifth movement. And…”she faltered in her speech, “and when you see Nicholas Telson. Tell him Eleyna has not forgotten.” Lilian nodded, hugged her teacher and her friend and then turned around before either of them could see her cry.

By early evening the three friends, along with their faithful feinhound, were back on the water. The Darling was a trading vessel, similar in shape to The Swift Stag but slightly larger. It’s captain was a stern man called Tremulo who did not speak much and was known amongst his crew to punish any form of gambling on board. His belief was that any luck that anyone had should be spent on the journey, and not wasted on a game of cards. The main cargo was silks and a few passengers who needed to get to Freedos. As they drifted down the river, Lilian joined Serena on the stern. Together, they watched Zandt diminish into the distance.

“I never thought I’d be sad to leave that city,” said Serena. She turned to look at Lilian, “thank you for making my stay so wonderful. Can we still be Friends in Freedos?” Lilian smiled,

“Oh I’m not sure,” she said wryly, “are you sure you want to be seen with a dirty country mouse like me.” Serena laughed.

“Well if you’re a dirty country mouse then I’m a big city rat. We can be vermin together.”

“Delightful!” Lilian giggled.

“Oh!” exclaimed Serena, “I nearly forgot. Can I see your tattoo?” Lilian jumped, she had nearly forgotten all about it since it had stopped itching a few hours ago. And with all the excitement of packing and leaving the city she had yet to wipe off the salve.

“Oh, yes, let’s have a look. One second, I’ll get a cloth.” Lilian hurried off to find a dishcloth which she dampened with a bit of fresh water. Upon returning, she looked at Serena and smiled in anticipation.

“Ready?”

“Enough suspense, let’s have a look!” Lilian brought the cloth to her forearm and slowly wiped away the salve. She needed to pass over the spot a few times and after getting most of it off she looked up at Serena in confusion.

“Where… where is it?” Serena asked. And she was right to, because no matter how much Lilian examined her arm, the tattoo was not there.

Lilian spent the journey agonising over the strange absence of her tattoo. Her first thought was that she had waited too long to take the salve away. But Peter assured her that that wouldn’t have made several hours worth of ink just disappear, it would just have made the salve a little harder. Her second idea was more sinister. Perhaps she had been conned? Perhaps Hafiz had stolen the vial of essence and the jar of earth and had used some kind of disappearing ink. But that didn’t explain everything. The pain she had felt had been very real, so where was the evidence of that? There were no scabs, no scars, nothing. Just her arm, pale and freckly, as it had always been. As the boat bobbed along the sea, Lilian grieved the loss of something she had never seen. It was meant to be a commemoration of her time in Zandt and a reminder of home all in one, and she had gone through the terrible ordeal of getting it done, so its absence stung almost as much as the needle that made it. As the days at sea went by, the pain faded, but Lilian still felt a pang of resentment whenever she glanced down at her arm. Thankfully, her various bruises and strains from fighting had healed. One morning while practising her handstands on the bow of the ship, she realised that even the persistent pain from her broken arm had disappeared entirely. Perhaps it was the sea air or the results from all that hard work training with Mistress Eleyna, but her steps felt lighter somehow, her breaths deeper, her kicks higher. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable. She missed practising the Atarapian style already and even resorted to getting Peter to pretend to attack her only so that she could see how she would react. Peter was a terrible fighting partner and often complained of the odds not being fair or that his wrist hurt or just generally whinging and wishing to go back to his notes and books. Serena on the other hand was more than happy to take his place. What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm. Lilian had to dodge some rather vicious fists and got the impression that Serena Bellaswan had some serious anger buried deep within her pristine exterior.

A few, uneventful days later a familiar coast line came back into view on the starboard side. That morning, the old volcano came into view. The spires and towers of the capitol city could just about be seen through the mist.

“We’ll be there by evening,” said Peter as the three of them marvelled at the view, “Serena, you don’t know this, but Lilian and I didn’t leave Freedos on the best of terms.” Without even blinking Serena responded with,

“Then you’ll need disguises.” A few minutes later, she returned with a couple of travelling cloaks. “Put these on,” she said, “you can pretend to be my servants. If you put the hoods up then people won’t see your faces.” They thanked her and tried the cloaks for size. They were a tad too big, but would suffice in the low light. Thankfully, it looked as though it was about to rain, so the hoods would not look out of place. Lilian looked down at Fritha, her heart heavy with what she was about to ask her. She’d sworn once that she would never ask her to hide again, but the situation was just too dangerous. She knelt down and began to speak to her fine furred friend. Looking into Frithas big, golden eyes, she could not not quite bring herself to break her promise. Fritha came closer, sniffing the cloak and seemed to understand.

“Fritha, I’m so sorry…” but Fritha did not let her continue. She interrupted Lilian with her low gong tone. “Yes,” said Lilian, “fear. This is scary, but we can do it.” Fritha took a step back. She then proceeded to shake, like she was drying herself after a swim. Only there was no water on her, instead, Lilian watched as her hair began to lengthen and darken. The vibrant colours dulled and within a few seconds she was disguised as the big, brown dog again. Lilian smiled and hugged her.

“Thank you. I promise it won’t be for long. We’re done with hiding. Soon, we shine, understand?” Fritha licked her face and Lilian giggled. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Peter, his face was serious.

“Best start getting ready.”

The sun sank slowly beyond the sea and the moon showed her face to light The Darling’s way to safety. The Freedos port was connected to the city walls by a short road and it was here that Serena’s cloaks came in most useful. Waiting for them there were a group of men, not Weardian as Lilian had expected, but soldiers. They had erected a sort of check point made up of sand bags and a shabby cabin. Lilian didn’t remember it being there when they left, and she was sure they had taken this same road.

“Papers miss,” A gruff soldier spoke to Serena. The rain dripping down his face and staining his grim expression. Serena played her part wonderfully while Lilian watched from beneath her hood.

“Papers? Who do you think you are? If you don’t let us through this instant I shall be speaking to my father and he’ll have your job, do you understand? I’ve never heard such insolence.”

“My apologies madam,” said the soldier through gritted teeth, “but we’re checking everyone entering the city. Some dangerous folk out there.”

“Hmph!” Serena pouted and clicked her fingers at Peter who obediently reached into a satchel to extract the proper documentation. “I’ve never experienced such indignity in all my days.” It was all an act of course. A show to distract the men from who was under the hoods. Serena even went so far as to pretend to fall into a puddle, forcing a nearby soldier who was getting a little too close to Lilian, to catch her.

“Oh! My goodness. Thank you sir. Your colleague over there could learn a thing or two about manners from you.” Despite her nerves, Lilian had to stifle a laugh.

After a few tense moments which included some bag searches and lamps shone in people’s faces, the party were allowed to go on their way. As soon as they were out of earshot of the soldiers, they congratulated Serena.

“My dear it was nothing. You should have seen me talk my way into Mrs Havers sugar dinner last winter. I complained so much the doorman was nearly in tears!”

The party eventually reached the city gates. More soldiers were stationed here. As the drizzle of rain developed into a shower, Lilian’s bad feeling became full blown anxiety. All this, just to enter the city? How many more soldiers would they encounter once inside the walls? Serena deftly navigated her way through the checkpoint once again, although this time was a little easier as the soldiers clearly didn’t want to be standing around in the rain. There was a moment where one man eyed Fritha for a suspiciously long time.

“What breed is she?” he asked Lilian.

“She’s a mountain hound,” she replied. The soldier stepped closer and Fritha growled. “Careful,” said Lilian, “she bites.” Thankfully, the man nodded in understanding and stepped away, placated. Lilian felt pride well up inside her, detecting fear was a useful skill, but instilling it was better still. Serena kept the rest of the men distracted and after showing them her travel papers and flashing her pearl white smile, the soldiers parted and let them through. Lilian wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but knew better than to think the trouble was over.

The streets of Freedos were quiet save for the lashings of rain and little rivers flowing into leaf blocked gutters. Their little group kept quiet, not wishing to draw any more attention to themselves. Their cloaks were soaked through and their eyes were trained on the paving stones in front of them.

“The man at the gate said there’s a curfew in place. It starts at 10th bell, so we should find somewhere to spend the night soon,” Serena whispered loudly through the rain.

“That explains the empty streets,” said Peter.

“I’ve never seen the city like this…” added Lilian, things must be bad, she thought. “Serena, are you not going up the hill?”

“I won’t make it in time. We should find an inn,” she replied.

“I know one nearby,” said Peter. He picked up his pace and Lilian hurried after him. After a second, she realised that Serena was falling behind. Turning around to check on her, Lilian saw that she had stopped completely.

“Peter, wait,” she called out, pointing to their friend, “Serena? What’s wrong?” Serena turned to them and through the sheets of rain, Lilian saw her shocked expression. Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed up at the wall beside her. It was the side of a large building, Lilian had passed it many times while out on deliveries to this part of the city. She’d never paid it much attention but Serena’s face made her stomach churn with worry. She ran back to join her and looked up at the wall where she was pointing. Lilian wanted to gasp, but her breath caught in her throat.

Adorned on the wall, twenty foot high in bright lead paint was a mural. It depicted a girl, dressed in green with bright red hair. She wore a serious expression and her hands were balled up into tight fists. Sitting beside her was a beautiful beast, multicoloured with bright cat-like eyes. Above them, in text as tall as Lilian, was a single word: Resist. Just as Peter came running to join them, Lilian found her breath and spoke:

“It’s me…”

Episode 46

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the main hall of the Holy Solar Temple on top of the hill overlooking the city of Zandt, there was a silence. It was punctured intermittently by the sound of water tapping on stone as a very wet Lilian Lausanne stood in front of two strangers, dripping. One of the strangers, a swordmistress named Eleyna, looked at her with surprise and confusion on her face. She seemed as though she was about to say something, when she took a step back in fear. Lilian turned around to see Fritha emerging from the fresh pool of water beneath the large stone bird. Fritha’s sodden coat dragged a quart of water out of the pool and onto the stone floor, the tension was quickly broken when she shook her entire body and sent a shower of cold drops over everyone. Lilian giggled and shielded her face.

“Fritha! That’s rude.” Lilian lightly chastised the feinhound before turning back to the two strangers. She had just been watching them practising a particular style of fighting that she had recognised to be the one used by Nicholas Telson, the shadowy head of The Guiding Hand. She had asked to train with them but still had not received an answer. Lilian turned back to the pair and waited. Finally, the older woman, Mistress Eleyna, spoke.

“How did you get in here…?” Lilian was confused.

“I guessed what was inside. Why? How did you get in?” Mistress Eleyna shared a look with her student.

“We also had to guess, but… it took many months of study.” Lilian nodded respectfully. She was unsure of how to respond.

“Congratulations,” she said, nervously, “So do you think you could teach me?”

Mistress Eleyna shook herself out of her state of confusion.

“Pardon me, Lilian was it?” Lilian nodded, “well, my dear, it’s not so simple. I only take a few students each year and only if I see promise in them. I can’t be giving classes to every wet invisible girl who hangs around with golden cats. Although I will admit you are the first to ask.” Lilian felt a pang of disappointment.

“Please, Madam…”

“Mistress,”

“Mistress Eleyna. It’s important. You see, in Freedos I fought a man who used his sword just like you did. He was fast, and deadly. He beat me, but spared my life. I think that when I see him again, he will try to kill me. I need to learn how to defend myself. His name was…”

“Nicholas.” Mistress Eleyna interrupted her. Lilian was surprised.

“Yes. How did you…?”

“There is only one Atarapian in Freedos, I knew him years ago. We had the same master.” Lilian became suddenly wary. If this woman knew Nicholas Telson, perhaps they shared similar goals or beliefs, they may even be friends. Lilian’s eyes darted to the blade in her hand. It was a training sword, sure, but it could still inflict significant damage, especially in experienced hands. Lilian’s fears were quickly assuaged when Mistress Eleyna suddenly spat on the floor.

“He betrayed my master and he left me for dead,” she lifted her cotton shirt on her left side to reveal a small but prominent scar. Lilian also briefly glimpsed the dark ink of a tattoo, but the shirt covered the full design. After tucking her shirt back into her trousers, Mistress Eleyna sighed and shrugged.

“Well, today is not going as I had planned but then again, when does it ever?” She approached the edge of the pool and clasped her sword between praying palms. She glanced up at the bird, closed her eyes and spoke a silent question in her mind. After a few moments and two or three deep breaths, she turned back to Lilian.

“Very well. If you can land one hit on Garold before the sun goes down. I will train you.” The boy Garold glanced at her wearily.

“What’s the matter, afraid you will be beaten by a little girl.” He shook his head.

“No but…” Lilian did not wait for him to finish speaking. Shifting her feat into an attacking stance she launched her full weight towards him and struck out twice. He was fast though, and managed to dodge both strikes.

“Ho hooo!” cried Mistress Eleyna, “I like this one. Come on Garold, she’s got you on the ropes already. Here, catch!” Lilian struck out three more times but each hit was met with only empty space. Between the second and third strike, Mistress Eleyna had thrown him her sword and he managed to catch the handle mid air. Bringing it up quickly he parried Lilian’s fourth swipe and a deafening clang echoed around the hall. Lilian took a step back, recentred herself and then the fight began.

It lasted longer than any match Lilian had ever fought. Watching him from the pool, Lilian had assumed Garold to be of a similar skill level to her, but that was because he had been fighting a master. In truth, he was more advanced than Lilian. She used every trick in the book, sweeping low kicks to knock him off balance, barrages of rapid strikes to confuse his eyes, quick feints followed by quicker attacks but nothing got through. What was worse, was that the sword style he had learned from Mistress Eleyna made him seem frustratingly relaxed. The heat of the afternoon sun pierced the temple roof and in a matter of minutes, the pool water on Lilian’s body had evaporated away and been replaced by sweat. Each round ended the same way. Garold would block her attacks and then land a punch on her body, these signified stabs. The hand is further from the tip of the blade and so if he was able to land a punch, he would have easily been able to land a stab. At first the punches were light, but Lilian felt patronised by this and insisted he treat her like a real opponent. She immediately regretted it however, as his next punch landed in the middle of her rib cage and knocked the air right out of her lungs. During all of it, Mistress Eleyna watched them both. At first she laughed and jeered, but soon she fell silent, studying their fight like a gambler assessing a racehorse.

Finally, once Lilian was out of breath, drenched in sweat and bone tired from exertion, Mistress Eleyna raised a slender hand, signifying the fighters to stop. Lilian glanced up at the dome roof, there was still some light coming through.

“I still have time!” she protested. Mistress Eleyna’s expression was serious and Lilian feared the worst. “No, you said until sundown and I still see light.” she turned back to Garold, “one more,” she insisted. Garold looked to his teacher as if seeking permission or guidance. He was sweating as well, but no where near as much as Lilian. Mistress Eleyna breathed out through her nose and gave the smallest of shrugs. Garold raised his blade and turned back to Lilian, ready to go again. One last bout, one last chance to land a hit. Lilian felt nerves begin to flutter in her stomach. She circled her opponent and took a deep breath, bringing her focus to the present moment. She replayed the afternoon’s fights over in her head, searching for some weakness or detail she might have overlooked in the heat of battle. Garold was fast and his defense was practically unbreakable. Lilian knew that repeatedly attacking him was achieving nothing, he saw all of her moves coming as if from a mile away. She took a step closer and Garold shifted his stance. She could hear his breathing and see a bead of sweat falling from his hair line down towards his eyes. Lilian was calmer now and she knew what she needed to do. If striking first was of no use, she would have to wait for him to attack her. This was easier said than done, especially as time was not on her side. She glanced up at the roof. There was still a sliver of light coming through one of the amber windows. She would need to provoke him.

Lilian stepped to her right and shifted her stance, bringing the blade up high over her head with its tip pointed down. This left her body open to attack but kept her weapon out of his immediate eyeline. She watched his eyes as she stepped slowly closer. They darted between her sword and her feet. Lilian waited but Garold was still not attacking. She watched the bead of sweat inch down his forehead and as soon as it came into contact with his eye, she pounced. The split second’s blink, coupled with the movement of his eyes forced him to take evasive action. He sensed the attack but did not see from which direction it was coming. Instinctively, he took advantage of Lilian’s open defense and struck out for her chest, hoping to get the blow in before her sword had time to swing down. The tactic would have worked, if Lilian had attacked. She had jumped forwards yes, but instead of bringing her sword down to strike him as she had done so many times before, she brought it towards her own body. This meant that it was ready to parry his blade which it did with a sharp clank. In the split second that followed, she thrust her fist out towards Garold’s chest and it connected with a satisfying thud. It was not a hard hit, but it didn’t need to be. Lilian kept her fist, which was holding her sword, in contact with his shirt, she stared at it in disbelief. Then, the last of the evening’s sun disappeared and her hand went from yellow gold, to deep blue silver as the moon finally showed her face.

Garold looked down at the point of impact on his chest and then looked up, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Very nice!” he said in his low baritone.

“Thanks!” Lilian beamed in delight. Then, both fighters turned to Mistress Eleyna. She was sitting against a pillar with Fritha’s head in her lap. Lilian had been so preoccupied with the fight she hadn’t noticed the two of them getting to know each other. Mistress Eleyna carefully woke the feinhound with a firm but friendly pat on her side and then proceeded to stand up and walk over. She held out her hand and Lilian placed the handle of the training sword in her open palm.

“Well, Garold,” she said, “it looks like you have a new sparring partner. I’ll see you both here tomorrow morning, bring food.” And with that, she left through a side passage and Lilian collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Both students and feinhound managed to stumble their way back down the mountain in the low light. Lilian learned a bit more about Garold during the long walk back to the city. Apparently he came from a religious family, both his parents were priests and teachers in the Holy Solar Order, so guessing what was inside the temple for him had been relatively easy compared with other, less knowledgeable acolytes. But the religious life was not for him, he wanted to be a soldier. Well, what he really wanted was to see the world, and the easiest way to do that whilst also being paid was to be a soldier, a profession he had a natural aptitude for. Training under Mistress Eleyna was a great honour and achievement for him and once his training was complete, he would be a shoe-in for the officer’s academy. Lilian told him about her experience with soldiers, well, mercenaries in the form of The Hundred. Garold was impressed.

“They say they are the strongest company in Alicium! Did you see them fight?” he listened in rapt attention while Lilian told him about the night at the Garrow’s farm. When they parted Lilian went to bow but Garold held out his hand.

“Oh no, we do not bow now,” he explained, “we are equals, and we look each other in the eye.” Lilian smiled, and grasped his wrist. “You fight well Miss Lausanne. I’ll see you in the morning.” Lilian smiled.

“Hopefully it won’t always be that tough.” A small smirk fell across Garold’s face.

“You have no idea.”

Later, back at the house, she saw Peter but only managed to tell him a brief summary of what had happened before needing to go to bed. She had to fight just to keep her eyelids from closing. She had the memory of her head hitting the pillow, but seconds later Lilian Lausanne was fast asleep.

Over the following weeks Lilian was back in training mode. It was similar to when she first began to train with Mr Attorcop. Early mornings, running up mountains and long hours of repetitive motions. Mistress Eleyna was a fiercely strict instructor. She had the ability to see when Lilian’s body was millimetres out of position and would correct her stances at first with a gentle hand, then a harsh word and finally a wicked whack from the side of her training blade. Every evening saw the appearance of new bruises, but Lilian didn’t mind. At first. Having come so far with her combat training with Mr Attorcop it was frustrating to have to learn something from scratch. Mistress Eleyna made it her personal mission to beat every bad habit out of her. The sword style was called Atarap and had apparently been developed a hundred and fifty years ago after a tax on steel had been imposed by the powers at the time. The soldiers had to learn how to fight with smaller and smaller blades which eventually led to the Atarapian fighting style. The swords were light and razor thin. This meant they weren’t able to block larger blades but instead focused on lightning quick strikes. In theory, the style suited Lilian’s wiry physique but the techniques involved in using the swords were impossibly difficult to master.

“Too tense!” Mistress Eleyna would shout again and again in the echoey temple hall. The Atarap method involved keeping the body relaxed up until the very last second when you would either strike, parry or dodge. Easier said than done when the tip of a sword is heading directly towards your throat. The theory was that muscles moved quickest in the act of tension, but once tense became comparatively slow. One morning Mistress Eleyna had Lilian studying scorpions for three hours. She learned how they would distract their prey with open claws and then finish them off with a deadly sting from outside of their field of vision. Lilian then had to implement their way of moving into her sword play.

The days were split into three sections. Physical training in the mornings, technique tutorial before and after lunch and then sparring practise for the rest of the afternoon. The physical training involved going from push ups, into handstands and eventually combining the two. It took three weeks for Lilian to be able to balance on her hands and as soon as she was able to do it, Mistress Eleyna told her to balance on her fists. If this wasn’t frustrating enough, the actual Atarapian techniques were finicky and complex. Lilian had to relearn how to hold a sword, how to maintain a relaxed grip while not having the blade knocked out of her hand, how to shift balance from one foot to the other and all of this while memorising the thirteen Atarapian stances and their names and associated uses, of which there were four or five for each one. To call the system difficult would be too kind. It was so complex that had Lilian not been training under a master she would have assumed it impossible. The only thing keeping her motivated were the very occasional times when she got to see Mistress Eleyna fight. She moved like a dancer, or a cobra. She knew how to attract the human eye and misdirect it away from where her strike was coming. She could fight on her hands as easily as on her feet. Obstacles became opportunities and a sword in her hand would appear to bend and float around her like a deadly dragonfly. Watching her was equal parts inspiring and infuriating. Lilian could never hope to achieve such skill and often found herself tired and bitter at the end of the day. Her moods were not improved by the constant presence of Serena Bellaswan during what little free time she had.

Serena and Peter were becoming firm friends, much to Lilian’s dismay. It was not unusual for Serena to dine with them most evenings. She would find some new spice in the markets and come over to cook for them. Peter behaved very strangely whenever she was around. He would laugh at her silly stories from court, go silent when she asked him simple questions and generally became a bit of a buffoon. One night in particular, a few weeks into her training, Lilian lost her cool with both of them. She had been nursing a particularly nasty cut on her upper arm and was already irritable from having to repeat the ninth stance, fourth movement, thirty-six times before Mistress Eleyna finally pronounced it ‘acceptable for someone her age’. Peter and Lilian were sitting at their little dining table when Serena breezed through the front door of the apartment and without so much as a ‘good evening’ began helping herself to some dried mango that Lilian had bought earlier that day.

“You’ll never guess who I saw hanging around the flower stall today, you know the one near the little place that does that mint tea? Jessica Florentina.” Lilian and Peter stared at her with blank expressions. “Oh you’re both useless, she’s lady Florentina’s daughter, well, illegitimate daughter but you didn’t hear that from me.” Lilian wasn’t sure if it was the audacity of entering her house without knocking, the cheek of eating her fruit without asking or the incessant gossiping that got to her, but just then something snapped.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Lilian shouted, a bit louder than she had meant to. There was a silence and Serena’s smile faded into a look of shock.

“I’m… sorry..?” she said, as if she genuinely didn’t understand the question.

“Lilian,” Peter interjected, “that’s not very nice.”

“Well I don’t care. Neither is she!” Lilian could feel her temper starting to boil over, “all she ever does is complain or talk badly of others. She’s here all the time despite never being invited and the last time I checked we didn’t ask for a spoiled, entitled bully to be constantly showing up unannounced and eating our food.”

“Lilian!” Peter stood up, fury on his face, “that is enough.”

“And you!” Lilian turned her ire towards her friend, “what is wrong with you? You’re so clever and witty but as soon as princess here shows up it’s like you become a completely different person. Both of you are just… UURRGH” unable to find the words Lilian just grunted, stood up and marched passed the still dumbfounded Serena and went up the small stairs and down the hall to her room. Fritha was in there napping but awoke with a start when Lilian slammed the door behind her. She fell on her bed and was about to beat her pillow when the cut on her arm sent a searing pain into her shoulder. All she could do was bury her head in her pillow and scream. She felt hot tears burning her eyes and rage filling her heart. After a couple of big shouts she looked up to see Fritha staring intently at her from the middle of the room. Lilian wanted comfort of any kind and so held her hand out to stroke her. But Fritha did not come forward, instead she took in a little breath and made her familiar, deep gong sound. It was the sound that meant fear. Lilian narrowed her eyes.

“What do you know?” she hissed and went back to burying her face in the softness of her bed.

After a few minutes, she heard her door clicking open, she had forgotten to lock it, and the sound of a footstep entering the room. The covers muffled her voice but Lilian still managed to make herself heard.

“I don’t want to talk to you Peter.” There was a small cough and Lilian looked up. It wasn’t Peter, but Serena who was standing over her. Lilian felt a flush of embarrassment wash over her and tried to wipe her eyes quickly. “Serena please I just…” Serena put a hand up to stop her talking. She didn’t look upset, she was calm and so Lilian listened.

“A few weeks ago, you asked me what I was doing in Zandt.” Lilian moved her legs as Serena went to sit on the bed beside her. “The truth is, I didn’t want to tell you because I was embarrassed.” Serena looked down at her hands and began rubbing her fingers absent-mindedly. Lilian had no idea where this was coming from and was having a hard time imagining Serena Bellaswan being ashamed of anything. “The truth is, I’m not here on holiday. I’m here because I’m being punished.”

“The house I’m staying in belongs to my aunt and I hate it there. It’s filled with people but I have no one to talk to. I’m sorry if me coming here has been annoying. I understand that. But for me, it’s been just wonderful. You see, this isn’t my first time in Zandt. My mother has a habit of sending me here for a few weeks every other year to punish me for disobeying her or not doing something properly, or I don’t know, some nonsense. This time it was because I wore a dress that was apparently too garish for a high tea party, on top of other things. And it works. I hate coming here. It’s beastly hot and I miss my friends at court and I miss talking and, well, gossiping. I know it’s a bad habit but you must understand once you’ve practised the harpsichord for five hours there’s only so much else you can do in a day. I know I shouldn’t complain, I’m very lucky to come from a nice family but I work so hard at court trying to find a way to move up in society or please my mother or even just get her off my back for a few days that when I saw you, someone who’d been in Freedos for barely a month, coming down the stairs with the Empress on your arm it just made my blood boil. I really wasn’t planning on seeing much of you in Zandt. But Peter is lovely, and he’s my age and we get on and you’re never here so I thought... well. What I wanted to say was, I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone from now on.” Serena stopped talking. Now it was Lilian’s turn to feel ashamed. She glanced at the older girl who even in this heat had perfect golden curls flowing down her shoulders. Lilian wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked at Fritha. She was sitting in front of them both, her tail sweeping from side to side, as if patiently awaiting their reconciliation. Lilian tried to find the right words.

“Fritha says I’m scared.” Serena looked up, confused.

“She can… talk?” Lilian smiled.

“No. But she knows when people are scared and she’ll tell you, even when you don’t want to hear it. And she’s right, of course. I am scared.”

“What are you scared of?” Serena asked.

“Oh lots of things.”

“Is that why you fight?” Lilian thought about the question. It made sense, but it didn’t sound right.

“No. No, I don’t think so. I’m learning to fight because I want to help people. And sometimes when you try to help people there will be others that want to hurt you or stop you. There’s a man in Freedos, he’s very dangerous and I need to stop him.” Serena smiled.

“That sounds very brave.” Lilian snorted and shrugged.

“You know,” she replied, “If it’s any help, I never wanted to meet the Empress. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her or walk down those steps with her at the ball.” Serena sighed.

“So what you’re saying is, you have everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and you don’t even want it. *sigh* no I’m not sure that does help, but thank you for trying.” Serena smiled and Lilian chuckled.

“No, I suppose that’s not very helpful is it?” An awkward silence descended on the room. Fritha took a step closer and purred as if she was willing the conversation to continue. Lilian knew what she needed to do. She took a deep breath, swallowed her pride and did it.

“I’m sorry, Serena. I’ve been beastly ever since I saw you on the boat here.” Serena looked across at her and smiled.

“No, you were right to be. I know I can be… difficult, sometimes.” Lilian looked up and saw Serena as if for the first time. The perfect golden curls and stately manners were still there, but there was no defense, no cutting words or viscious quips. Lilian shuffled across the bed and hugged her. She felt Serena’s body tense as if this was some new and strange sensation. But when Lilian squeezed her tighter, she felt the tension slip away.

“Thank you,” Serena whispered as she hugged her back, “I don’t deserve this. You’re a good person Lilian Lausanne. Maybe that’s why I find you so infuriating.” Lilian laughed.

“Nah, it’s just my small town charm. You big city folk aren’t used to it.” They held each other for a few more seconds and then broke apart. Fritha came close and put her chin on Serena’s lap, her tail wagging happily.

“Right, shall we go back downstairs and eat something? That ninny is probably waiting for us.” Serena said as she stroked Fritha’s large head.

“Oh he is a ninny!” Lilian agreed and the two friends stood up and went down to have dinner.

The next day something finally clicked in Lilian’s head. Her transitions between stances became more fluid and she found that she didn’t have to think as hard about the next move. In the afternoon, while sparring with Garold, she managed to strike him six times, almost doubling her previous record. Both he and Mistress Eleyna beamed at her progress.

“Another hit!” cried Mistress Eleyna, “there is hope for you yet little Lilian.” Lilian did a celebratory cartwheel and went to give Fritha a big hug. When she turned around she saw that Garold was no longer holding his training sword. It’s handle was in Mistress Eleyna’s hand.

“Now, see if you can do that to me.” Lilian’s heart skipped a beat. Truthfully she had been yearning to test her skills against her Mistress, but now that the moment was here, Lilian couldn’t help but feel nervous. Collecting her thoughts and breathing deeply she approached Mistress Eleyna with as much confidence as she could muster. They stood a few feet apart and chose their starting stance. Mistress Eleyna went for the fourth position, third movement a wise choice considering it hid the blade from her opponent’s view. Seeing this, Lilian chose the eleventh position, first movement, bringing her feet close together and her sword out to the middle distance in front of her. It was a good all rounder, balancing attack and defensive capabilities equally, but it was not particularly bold.

“Boo, too safe,” Garold jeered from the sidelines. Lilian shushed him and suppressed a smile. This was serious business.

Mistress Eleyna opened with an upward kick to Lilian’s wrist, which she had to move her sword arm to avoid. Mistress Eleyna stayed on one leg and shot out a flurry of strikes with her foot. Lilian blocked or parried them all but knew that if she was going to land a hit, she would have to draw out Eleyna’s sword. She used her small stature to her advantage and ducked down below Mistress Eleyna’s raised leg, sweeping her own foot out and round in the process. This was easily anticipated and countered with a small jump into a crouch by Mistress Eleyna, but Lilian had planned ahead. Bringing her sword up from the ground in a modified eighth phase thrust she aimed directly for Mistress Eleyna’s chin. Any other fighter would have had their chin clipped and their vision forced skywards, but Mistress Eleyna was too cunning for that. Spinning midair she brought her own blade round to parry Lilian’s and the two fighters were back on equal footing. Lilian wasted no time in celebrating her little victory. Bringing out Mistress Eleyna’s sword meant she was one step closer to breaking her defence, but it also made her more dangerous. The two women exchanged a flurry of lightning fast blows. Lilian naturally flowed from relaxation into tension remembering to keep her breath fluid and constant throughout. Their eye contact never broke, as each one knew that the other would take quick advantage of any distraction. Soon after, Mistress Eleyna got the first hit in. Lilian had countered a feint too quickly and was met with a swift punch to her gut. She bent over double and tasted vomit in her mouth.

“Not bad,” her teacher said, standing over, “ready for one more?” Lilian needed a few seconds to recover, but once she managed to isolate the pain and push it to one side, she was back on her feet.

“Ready.” She chose the third stance as her opener, making her body wide in an attempt to bait a similar strike. Mistress Eleyna countered with the seventh stance, second movement, making herself tall and bringing her blade up and high like the tail of a scorpion. This time, the swords came out early and the training blades were tested to their limits as they met time and time again in the air between the two women. Lilian was confident in her defence but knew that she would have to turn the tables soon or else Mistress Eleyna would find a weakness. Lilian pushed in closer, taking steps forward while maintaining her strong defense. Mistress Eleyna guessed her plan and created distance between them. Suddenly, Lilian saw an opening and dashed forward but even though her sword was up and striking her body was met by the bottom of Mistress Eleyna’s foot. She had brought it up in the blink of an eye and for Lilian it was like running into a horse's hoof. She was knocked back and her sword went clattering across the stone floor. She cursed under her breath.

“Ah ah, keep calm.” Mistress Eleyna chastised her. Lilian knew in her head that getting angry would vastly diminish her chances of landing a hit, but her heart was not listening. She walked over to her sword and picked it up, ignoring the pain from the open blisters on her palm. Gripping the handle tightly, she found her breath and balance and turned back to her Mistress. It was like fighting a wall, a wall that could anticipate your every move, and counter with blows of its own. The effort seemed useless and for a second a voice in the back of her mind told her to give up and go home. But Lilian had come too far for that. Before her time in Freedos, she might have listened to the voice, or told it to shut up. But now she knew it well, it was the voice of fear, the sound of defeat. She decided to take a different approach with it. She calmed it with soothing words, she listened to what it said and reassured it that all would be fine. Slowly, the pain from her hands and chest began to ease. Her mind became less clouded by frustration and with one final deep breath she closed her eyes and became centered.

Lilian turned around and noticed her teacher studying her with curiosity. She smiled, which was rare.

“Good Lilian, very good. Again.” Lilian approached her Mistress, taking in the hall, the sounds and smells of her surroundings as well as the totality of her opponent. This relaxed state felt a lot like gloaming but whereas that caused her to have hyper focus, this state allowed her to see everything all at once. No one thing was clearer than another, but any change or movement became blindingly obvious. Lilian shifted her body slowly into the ninth stance, sixth movement. This involved her crossing her right leg slightly in front of her left and raising her sword hand up by her side, wrist pointing upwards, allowing the tip of the blade to drop down slightly. Mistress Eleyna chose the eleventh and crouched low like a coiled snake. The fighters waited. There was no rush, no time limit. Just the calm before the storm.

Once she was ready, Lilian dictated the start of the fight by blinking. The small movement was enough to make Mistress Eleyna spring forward. Lilian waited, one step, two, deep breath. There. Mistress Eleyna’s blade leapt out of hiding like the protruding fangs on a rattlesnake, revealed moments before the killing bite. Even once she saw it, Lilian waited. She waited until the tip of the training sword was roughly a foot away from her throat, until she was sure that it wasn’t a feint, until Mistress Eleyna’s full weight was behind it. Lilian shifted into eight position, second movement, bringing her right leg up at the same time as her left hand. In the next instant she used the back of her left wrist to shift the tip of the oncoming sword past her neck whilst her right foot pinned Mistress Eleyna’s left arm against her body, preventing her from doing the same. Lilian’s blade could now come into play. With a quick tension in her wrist, Lilian’s own training sword snapped forward and with pinpoint precision ended its motion with the tip touching Mistress Eleyna’s throat. The whole motion took less than a second but as soon as it was over Lilian knew it was a hit. She felt Mistress Eleyna’s left arm struggle to come up from under her foot and sensed her sword flow past beyond her own neck, guided ever so slightly away by her wrist. The two fighters stayed in place for a second and finally, Mistress Eleyna broke away and nodded, acknowledging the strike. Lilian barely had time to smile before she felt her weight being lifted off the ground by an exultant Garold.

“What a play! And a killing blow no less. Right, Mistress?” He swung Lilian around in a circle and she dropped her sword in surprise and elation. Mistress Eleyna smiled and once the celebration was over she beckoned Lilian to join her by the pool. Lilian composed herself, picked up the training blade and joined her Mistress by the water. They stood and faced the giant stone statue, brought their swords up in prayer and bowed to the ever watching bird.

“Excellent work Lilian. You have come far,” said Mistress Eleyna in a tone that Lilian had not heard before. Could it have been pride?

“Thank you Mistress,” she replied, fighting the urge to hug her.

“Now that you’ve landed a hit on your teacher, there is a little tradition you must uphold.”

“Oh?” Lilian asked, “What's that Mistress?”

“Why, your tattoo of course.”

Episode 45

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The city of Zandt has three main markets. There’s the harbour which Lilian and Peter saw on their first day, that dealt mainly in meat and fish. Then in the northern quarter there was the cloth market, they had visited this one on the morning of their second day. Lilian had bought two flowing dresses and three linen wraps. The kind woman who ran the stall had shown her how to wrap the material around her head and shoulders so that she was protected from the sun. The family they were staying with (old friends of Katrina’s from Freedos) had recommended her personally and upon mentioning their name she smiled broadly and gave them a handsome discount. The heat was so constant and energy sapping that Lilian found that she could not muster the will to do much more than one or two activities per day, that included her daily exercises and stretches which were meant to aid her recovery. So it was not until the third day that they visited the third market. This one was known as the materials bazaar and was where the people of Zandt went to trade all kinds of substances, ingredients and spices. Unlike markets in Freedos which were usually held in wide open spaces on certain days of the week, the materials bazaar was permanent and packed tightly into several small shaded streets. The wares were either laid out on carpets on the ground or on top of packing crates. Much like the houses in the city itself, stalls were often placed so close to each other, it was difficult to tell which person nearby was in charge of what. Trading seemed to consist of hanging around near your chosen material until someone came over to ask if you were interested. You would then try and seem as disinterested as possible while trying to haggle over a price. Lilian had learned this the hard way when she bought a few sticks of liquorice root for, according to Peter, three times what they were worth. She didn’t mind though. She chewed on one happily as she took in the sights, sounds and smells of the market. Fritha padded beside her keeping a watchful eye on the liquorice root. She drew a few curious gazes from the stall holders and patrons but no one asked too many questions. Zandt was a massive hub for trade, so its people were used to seeing exotic animals. Besides, in this heat Fritha kept her coat short and white which just made her look like a big dog.

Peter took out a scrap of parchment from his pocket, it was the third time this morning that Lilian had seen it.

“What do you keep looking at?” she asked, using the liquorice root to point at the note in his hand.

“Directions.” he replied, absently. He glanced around for a few moments before settling his gaze on a dark archway. “Through here.” he said and Lilian and Fritha followed him through the arch, away from the main market thoroughfare.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I just need to pick up some things for mum.” something about his tone made Lilian wary. He kept glancing back over his shoulder and his voice was a little too quiet.

“Peter…?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“What are we here to buy exactly?” her friend ducked his head under a wooden beam and continued on into the depths of the market. There were still sellers here, but they were fewer in number and their conversations were spoken in hushed tones. Peter didn’t meet her eye.

“Just some… things. Don’t worry about it.” Lilian rolled her eyes. If there’s one way to get someone to worry about something, it’s to tell them not to worry about it. Finally, a look of recognition fell upon Peter’s face.

“Ah, here we are.” He walked towards a man dressed in a dark blue and brown robe, his eyes were bright and friendly and draped across his shoulders was a huge lizard. Its tongue flicked out occasionally and its suspicious eyes narrowed as it saw them approach. In front of the man was a collection of large glass jars, each containing a different substance. The light was especially low back here, despite it being the middle of the day so Lilian had to squint to see what was in them. Peter nodded to the man with the lizard and greeted him in the local dialect. Lilian had only managed to pick up a few words but Peter was quite adept. They exchanged a few phrases and the man handed him one of the jars. It contained a sort of yellow powder. Peter opened it and gave the contents a sniff.

“Oof, smell that…” he held it out for Lilian to smell. She leant in and inhaled deeply.

“Ugh, Peter, that's disgusting. It smells like a rotten egg in a sewer.” In truth, it smelt worse than that, but Lilian didn’t have any other comparison.

“That’s sulfur.” Peter said, handing the jar back to the stall owner. He was laughing at Lilian’s reaction to the prank. Lilian was still reeling from the awfulness.

Peter and the man haggled for a while over the price of the jar. All seemed to be going fine until Peter gestured to another jar, this one full of thin lavender coloured crystals. The stall owner’s smile fell away. He began to shake his head and the lizard almost lost balance. Lilian looked at Peter who brought out a golden crown and showed it to the man. They exchanged a few more words. Peter seemed to be doing his best to convince the man to let him have both jars, but he wasn’t budging. Finally, after several minutes and a few more silver bits on the table, he relented and Peter put both jars in his travel bag, making sure they were well hidden before thanking the man, turning around and leaving.

“What was all that about?” asked Lilian as they stepped out of the shadows and back towards the light. Peter chose his words carefully.

“They get these crystals from a cave by the coast, they’re quite rare. In Freedos they’d cost an arm and a leg but here I got them for a song.” He was smiling, satisfied with the morning’s deals.

“He didn’t look like he wanted to give them to you,” said Lilian.

“Separately it wouldn’t have been a problem, but together they can be quite dangerous. If you know how to mix them. Which I do.” he smiled another one of his self-assured grins. The light was getting brighter as they made their way back to the main market. The chatter of the crowd grew louder too. As they re-emerged into the main market Lilian was about to ask what would happen if Peter used his expert knowledge and combined the two jars when she noticed something that made her stomach drop. Quickly, she turned to her friend and tried to persuade him to go the other way.

“You know what Peter, we haven’t seen that part of the market up there yet, why don’t we…”

“Hey…” he interrupted her and Lilian knew she had failed to distract him in time “isn’t that Serena?”

Sure enough, Serena Bellaswan, dressed all in white linen and carrying a ridiculous lace parasol, was standing just a few feet away, talking to a stallholder about some dried jasmine buds.

“No Peter, wait…” Lilian tried to stop him but he was already heading towards her. He waved as he approached and Serena flashed her brilliant white smile when she saw him. Lilian followed suit and when Serena caught sight of her, the smile fell away.

“Peter, how delightful to see you. And hello… Lulu.” she said, putting on all the heirs and graces of one who was about to be introduced to royalty. Lilian did not bother correcting her mispronunciation of her name, they would not be here long.

“And you Miss Bellaswan. How are you liking Zandt?”

“The city is perfectly charming. I think the markets are by far the best part, such lovely things and so cheap!” Peter grinned.

“You have an excellent eye for quality, my lady.” he gestured to her parasol and Lilian fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was Peter’s obsession with this vacuous creature? She was clearly just a spoiled brat who was here on holiday. They had a mission and it did not involve wasting time with airheaded noble daughters. Serena pretended to blush at the complement.

“Peter darling you’re too kind… oh! Goodness gracious.” Fritha came out from behind Lilian and approached Serena, sniffing her sleeve and assessing her. Lilian smiled at Serena’s obvious discomfort. She hoped that Fritha would snap at her or steal her parasol but Fritha sensed her fear and backed away. Curse your kindness, thought Lilian.

“Apologies, Miss Bellaswan. This is Fritha, our companion. Fritha, here!” Peter called her back and Fritha obliged, knowing there was a sour berry waiting for her in his pocket if she did.

“Oh, thank you. Sorry, I’m… I’m not used to being around such creatures.” Peter patted Fritha on the side. “No it’s us who should apologise, we’re so used to her we forget how big she is.” Lilian harrumphed. She was not about to apologise, Fritha was just being curious, it wasn’t like she jumped up or bit her ankle. Lilian clapped her hands together,

“Well, this has been lovely but I believe we need to get going, Peter?” she turned away, hoping he would follow but he merely shrugged.

“We’re not in any rush. We’ll have all afternoon to make the journey. Oh, speaking of…” Lilian’s stomach dropped, no no no, she thought, knowing what Peter was about to do. “Miss Bellaswan, we were thinking of visiting the Simurgh temple this afternoon. Would you care to join us?” Lilian stepped forward.

“I’m sure Miss Bellaswan is far too busy buying cakes to want to go on a hike…” Serena shot her a poison glare.

“I think the cakes will still be there tomorrow. And it’s true that the temple is on my list of things to do.” Lilian willed her not to agree to come, the hike was going to be difficult enough without having a whinging princess in tow. As usual though, Peter betrayed her.

“Fantastic,” he said, “The path starts on the edge of the city just north of here. Shall we meet after lunch?” The two young women did not break eye contact. Lilian narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. Serena did the same at first, but apparently, upon seeing how angry the suggestion was making Lilian, her face broke into a wry smile.

“I should like that very much.” There was an awkward pause while they stared each other down. Peter, oblivious as ever, broke the silence.

“Great! See you there!”

Lilian and Peter enjoyed a light lunch of local delicacies. Cheese wrapped in steamed vine leaves and skewered spiced chicken, washed down with a bitter drink made from the skin of grapes. They swapped stories of their childhoods and laughed at how different growing up in Freedos had been compared to Benlunar. Lilian enjoyed spending time with Peter, he was easy to talk to and pleasant to everyone they met. He was quite tall and still growing which meant that he often misjudged the depth of steps or the heights of doorways, resulting in many a bump and bruise. As they approached the hill path (Lilian refused to call it a mountain) they were laughing about the first time Peter met Mr Attorcop.

“I couldn’t believe how serious he was! I swear he could turn shopping for flour into a life and death situation.” Lilian threw her head back in laughter. The description was far too accurate and even though it made her miss her mentor she still enjoyed the observation. As she wiped a tear from her eye and her vision became less blurry, a waving figure came into focus in the middle distance. All laughter died at the sight of her. Serena Bellaswan, clad in beige linen trousers and sturdy ankle boots, was signalling them from the base of the hill. She was perched on a rock and had swapped the parasol for an equally ridiculous hat, the brim of which was wider than her shoulders. It was fashioned from intricately woven straw and tied with a big green bow. Even in this sweltering climate she looked effortlessly glamorous, as if she had been set down on the rock by a passing flock of sparrows. Her shirt was white cotton and ruffled in the breeze like the sail of a ship. Lilian glanced down at her own dark green dress and noticed a stain where she had dropped some cheese on it earlier. To add insult to injury, Fritha bounded over to Serena and licked her hand. Traitor, thought Lilian as she watched Serena bend down and give the animal a big kiss on her forehead.

“Ready to go?” she said, smiling.

The walk up to the temple was pleasant enough. The well worn trail wound upwards between tufts of dry grass. Peter and Serena walked a few feet ahead of Lilian and Fritha. Lilian would catch the occasional word from their conversation but on the whole occupied herself with maintaining a steady pace and warning Fritha not to get too close to scorpions. Each of them carried a cantine of fresh water, which the locals had warned them was a must. Lilian had hoped that Serena would struggle with the walk, but frustratingly found that she kept up relatively easily. At one point, about three quarters of the way up, Lilian turned to look down at the city. From here the sprawling metropolis against the backdrop of dunes and sky had the stillness of an oil painting. There were no crowds, no noise and the slight movement of trees in the breeze was the only thing that made it animated and real. She breathed in a deep, clean breath and missed her mountainous home. Travel might broaden the mind, but it focuses the heart.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice, shocked Lilian out of her nostalgia. She turned to see Serena standing not three feet beside her. For all their differences, she had to admit that she was right. Lilian nodded.

“It is.” Fritha gave a wide yawn and pawed at the ground, eager to get going again. Serena shifted uncomfortably.

“I realise that I never thanked you, for the other day. That man was so scared he practically left a cloud of dust as soon as he’d set down my bags. So… thank you, for that. I lost my cool but you kept your head.” Of all the things Lilian had expected her to say, this had been the last. Caught off guard, Lilian mumbled a restrained,

“It was nothing.” she did not even look at Serena as she said it.

“Well, even so, I appreciated it. And if I can repay you…”

“Why are you here?” asked Lilian, interrupting her.

“Excuse me?” said Serena, confused.

“Why are you in Zandt?” Lilian had been wanting to ask this ever since she’d seen her on the Swift Stag. It seemed strange to her that one so connected in Freedos high society had decided to come, relatively alone, to a strange city where she knew no one and had no work to speak of. Serena’s face fell, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Lilian got the impression that this was an uncomfortable topic for her, but Lilian didn’t care. She was sick of Serena spoiling her trip and if she insisted on hanging around, the least she could was answer her questions. Unfortunately, just as Serena seemed like she was about to say something, Peter appeared from up the path and shouted at them.

“Come on you two! We’re nearly there.” Serena looked relieved at the interruption.

“He’s so bossy!” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes. Lilian humphed and brushed past her. She’d managed to avoid the question, but sooner or later, Lilian would corner her and she would get answers. She always did.

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the top of the hill. As the crest loomed ahead the top of the temple came into view. The first and unavoidable sight were its columns; six in total and each one adorned with gold leaf. The building itself was round and tall, at least as tall as the Stave in Benlunar. Its stone white roof was a dome that rose up into the sky. At its peak was a metal spike that had a golden sun attached. The sun’s face and wavy rays were gold as well. At the base was a set of white steps that led up to the base of the columns. Beyond these, was a white wall with a comparatively small doorway at its base. Standing in front of it were two men. They were dressed in white robes, the style of which reminded Lilian instantly of Zadoch Korshid. These must be disciples of his holy solar religion. Sun worshippers and keepers of untold destructive power. Lilian tried to suppress the memory of Zadoch’s obliteration of the Weardian headquarters, but it was not easy. The smell of her own burning hair and the screams from the men and women inside were still very present in her mind. She shook herself and began walking towards the men.

“Lilian? What are you doing?” Peter was behind her, calling her back in a hushed voice. Lilian turned to see both him and Serena with concerned looks on their faces.

“I’m going to talk to them.” she said, matter-of-factly. Serena shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The temple is a place of great significance for their order. They don’t just let anyone in.” Lilian frowned.

“Well why did we come all the way up here then?” not waiting for a response, Lilian turned and headed for the steps. The expressions of the two guards, Lilian assumed that’s what they were, grew more stern with each of her approaching steps. She could hear the patter of feet behind her and knew that her friends were following. Fritha was by her side and so Lilian felt confident.

When she was within speaking distance, one of the men held his hand up.

“Halt please.” Lilian did not listen. She was fed up with people telling her what to do. Instead she paused and then took a few more steps.

“I would like to go inside please.” she spoke confidently, trying not to think about what these men were capable of. Both of them had golden suns embroidered on their chests. They looked at each other, incredulous. The one who had spoken before replied in broken speech.

“Only those of the holy solar order may enter.” Lilian shrugged.

“Fine. How do I become a member of the order?” the second man smirked and replied bluntly.

“You don’t.” Lilian scowled, the man continued. “Order members are chosen after many years of study. They earn the right, no, how do you say it? Privilege of going inside. Walking up a mountain is not enough.” Lilian felt her blood begin to boil. She did not like these men one bit. She never really liked anyone who told her she was not allowed to do something. She felt a series of angry words bubbling to the surface and was about to give them an earful, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Serena, standing beside her with a look in her eyes that said, ‘stay calm’. Lilian begrudgingly stepped back and folded her arms. Serena turned to the guards.

“My dear gentleman. We appear to have got off on the wrong foot. We are not here to quarrel or to discover and divulge any secrets. My friend is merely curious. We have travelled a long way and a trip to Zandt would surely only be half complete without experiencing its most treasured wonder.” Lilian marvelled at her diplomacy and choice of words. She felt her anger dissipate and even saw the tension in the guards’ shoulders ease somewhat. The first man considered her statement.

“The glory of the sun can be felt anywhere. There is nothing more interesting inside than that, I can assure you. Besides, our rules are strict, there is nothing we can do. Unless…” he paused, but Serena saw her opportunity and jumped on it.

“Yes? Unless what?” The two men looked at each other and the quiet one shrugged. The first man spoke again,

“Technically the temple is a public place and we cannot stop you, but only those who can pass the guess may enter.”

“The guess?” Serena parroted. The man screwed up his face, trying to find the right words.

“Yes. The guess. Our laws say that if someone can guess what is inside, you may go in. This is why we study for so long. To understand. But if you have not studied the books, you will never guess. And in one life, you only have one guess.” He shrugged. His point was made. It seemed as though entrance to the temple relied on a sort of paradox. To go in you had to guess what was inside, but you could not know what was inside without going in. Lilian narrowed her eyes, the wheels of her sharp mind suddenly springing into furious whirring. It was a puzzle, and Lilian knew now that she would not be able to rest until it was solved. Serena sighed and turned back to her.

“I’m sorry, I did my best.” For the first time since meeting her at the Summer Ball Lilian gave Serena a genuine smile. It was not filled with malice, or accompanied by cutting words.

“Thank you Serena, you were brilliant.” Serena looked taken aback.

“Oh. Well, you’re most welcome. Consider us even for the other day.” Serena turned and walked back towards Peter, her haughty hackles were back up. It seemed as though genuine thanks was not something Miss Bellaswan received often. “Are you coming, Lilian?” she said, ready to head back down the mountain.

“No,” Lilian replied, “I’m going to make a guess.”

Lilian took a few steps closer to the two Order guards. She needed Serena and Peter to be out of earshot for the conversation. The two men swapped a curious look at each other, surprised that one so young and so obviously ignorant of their ways was about to waste her one and only guess. Fritha remained close by and Lilian touched her nape for reassurance. Having her animal companion close gave her confidence. As she got closer, the two men squared up to her and began the necessary ritual.

“You are here to enter the holy solar temple, home of the sun on land and source of power of the Holy Solar Order. To grant you passage we must hear your guess as to what waits within. Please be concise and accurate, for only those who are sure are worthy.” Lilian looked at their faces, she thought she detected a slight grin on the second guard but she did not let that bother her. If she were in his position, she might have found this amusing too. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds and triple checked her logic. For nearly a year now she’d been studying history, philosophy and religion with Mr Attorcop but all those lessons went suddenly to one side in her mind. In their place, she saw home. She saw the mountain and the moon and heard the rippling of water. The Padda Stone loomed large in her memory and she felt a calmness wash over. Lilian opened her eyes, and was ready.

“My name is Lilian Lausanne, of Benlunar. I have travelled far and learned much and although I cannot be sure by any means, I am ready to guess.” A few seconds passed where all that could be heard was the whistle of the wind and a far away screech in the sky. “Inside your big and beautiful temple, there is a creature. It is ancient, far older than the rocks that surround it. It is powerful, it gets its power from the sun and every so often, when the sun is at its most radiant the creature comes alive. There will be water around it and a feeling of peace. The creature may look like a bird, but it is not one. It is a being of untold age and it has seen cities rise, temples fall and knows that the order that protects it now is just one of many that throughout history have sought to control it. But it does not care, for it is forgiving and it will sit and it will give forever, like the sun.” Lilian turned to look up into the sky and felt the heat of the sun on her face. She tried to calm her nerves and turned back to check if her guess was correct. The two men were staring at her with looks of shock and confusion. The second man stepped aside and it looked as though the first was about to do the same when he paused and spoke softly.

“Now you know, you tell no one. All are allowed a guess but we must ask that you do not influence them.” Lilian felt excitement rising inside her, she nodded.

“I swear. I’ll keep the secret, but I ask that you respect the fact that I do not agree with this. This place should be free and open to all.” The guard nodded.

“I respect your wish. But I think you have seen what this power can do. We simply do not wish it to fall into the wrong hands.” Lilian was uncomfortable, but in agreement.

“I respect your wish.” And with that, the way was made clear.

Lilian turned to wave goodbye to Serena and Peter, they looked dumbfounded, their mouths wide open and their eyes fixed and unblinking.

“I’ll meet you back at the house!” she cried and before receiving an answer, turned on her heel and headed inside the temple with Fritha padding patiently by her side.

The heat of the day faded with each step into the dim stone corridor. There was a light at the end of the tunnel but Lilian did not rush towards it. Her nerves from guessing were still very present but with each cooling, calming step she felt the tension dissipate into the walls of this sacred place. She looked down to her right side. Fritha, brave as ever, was striding forwards, Lilian even had to quicken her pace to keep up with her. Her coat was shifting and shimmering through various metallic shades. Lilian saw it cycle through silvers and bronzes before it finally settled on glittering gold. Something about this place was clearly speaking to her. It gave Lilian confidence and with a smile and a new spring in her step she faced the light and strode on towards it.

A new and different kind of heat was pouring out of the room ahead. A wet and humid heat, like the one on the river greeted them like a warm embrace as they stepped into the light. They found themselves in a large room, directly beneath the domed roof. Light was coming through the roof, through hidden glass panels buried in the sandstone. The glass was yellow, or clear or even dark orange in places. It was woven into the stone dome like cracks in a bowl that had been dropped and glued back together with molten gold. It bathed the hall in yellow and made Lilian’s skin look as golden as Fritha’s fur. As her gaze fell from the ceiling, it found the bird. Giant and made of rock it instantly reminded Lilian of the Padda Stone, only it was lighter in colour and rather than having a pensive, peaceful look, its expression was frozen in fierce concentration. It looked angry and although its wings were folded by its side, Lilian thought it might spring into flight at any moment. Bubbling beneath it was a pool of water, crystal clear and lined with mosaics. The patterns depicted people and birds in various forms of flight, dance or worship. In the middle of the bottom of the pool floor, was the sun, golden and dazzling, the movement of the water making it look as though it emanated real heat. Surrounding them on all sides of the hall were large columns, similar to the ones outside the entrance, only these were not leafed in gold but were simply sturdy and stone. Small doors and passageways lead off from this central room into other parts of the temple. They were dark and inviting. Lilian stood still for several seconds, in awe of the place. She looked up and around and studied all the details she could find. She was so distracted by the room itself that she failed to notice Fritha heading for the water.

“Fritha!” she whispered loudly, sure that any shout would be heard by someone deep in the temple. Before she could grab her attention and pull her away however, Fritha had her two front paws in the water and was stepping timidly into the pool. Lilian moved to grab her but she was too far and it was too late. Fritha’s splendid slender slipped into the cooling waters and in an instant she was swimming. Lilian wanted to shout at her to get out, but the water looked so clean and refreshing she found herself silent and envious. It was so hot in the hall and the water was so serene.

Glancing about and making sure they were alone, Lilian quickly removed her outer layers and hid them behind a pillar. Dressed only in an undershirt and shorts she tiptoed across the stone floor and headed for the water. Fritha was busy splashing about, what further damage, if any, could she do if she joined her? Lilian touched the pool with her right toe. It was as cool and refreshing as her imagination had made it out to be. Without a moment’s hesitation her foot was in the water, followed swiftly by her legs, her knees, thighs and waist. Her breath caught in her chest as the water moved up past her stomach but by then there was no going back. One final jump and Lilian was submerged and swimming. The water was inexplicably cold but not so much that it shocked the body. Rather, when contrasted with the heat of the room, it relaxed it. Lilian dipped her head beneath the surface and swam over the blazing sun. She joined Fritha on the other side and giggled as her furry friend licked the liquid off her face. There were hidden steps under the bird and beneath the water. Lilian sat, half submerged on the third one down and enjoyed the sensation of refreshing serenity. She rested her hand on Fritha’s side, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Almost at once, the familiar feeling of gloaming came to her. Her senses heightened and her awareness of the space around her grew sharp. Back in Freedos, gloaming would always cause her to tense her body as the waves of sound and activity crashed over her. But here she found she could relax and enjoy the feeling. The lapping of little waves on the tiles, the disant screech of a bird and of course, the heavy heartbeat of her faithful feinhound friend. Lilian breathed out a happy sigh. The trials and troubles of the city seemed far away here. But there was something close and getting closer. The tapping sound of sandals on stone. Two sets of feet were somewhere in the depths of the temple and they were getting louder.

Lilian opened her eyes, she had only just been granted access to this place and was not yet ready to leave. Normally she might be nervous, but she was so relaxed that she merely glanced at Fritha, caught her amber eyes and put a finger up to her lips. Slipping then down to the next step and further into the water, they both became still and invisible. Presently, two people entered the temple from a small passage to the east. Lilian watched them with a curious and detached air. Her clothes were far away, so she did not fear her discovery. The figures approached the pool and acknowledged the bird before turning to face each other. One was a woman, roughly middle aged with sharp features. She wore a loose green sleeveless shirt and baggy trousers that were tied at the ankle. The person she was with was a young man, only a few years older than Peter. He wore darker clothes and had black hair that was shaved short. Both of them carried swords. They were short, thin blades made of dull metal. Lilian recognised them to be training blades. The tips were pointed and could still cause damage, but the edges were not sharpened. Lilian watched them curiously. She had expected to see folks dressed in Holy Solar robes, but apparently she was not the only person not in the order who had successfully guessed their way inside the temple. The woman turned to the young man and spoke in a heavily accented, stern voice.

“Here we will be free from distractions, remember to keep your eyes on mine. Are you ready?” The man nodded.

“Yes, Mistress Eleyna.”

“Then put up your blade and centre yourself. This round I will not hold back.” The man did as he was told, putting one arm behind his back and taking an offensive stance. He held his sword lightly as did his teacher. Lilian expected the first block to knock the weapon away completely, but as they fought the swords stayed fixed to their hands as if glued there by some sticky substance. The hall began to ring with the echoes of their meeting blades. Lilian had trained enough in swordplay to recognise experienced fighters. They moved swiftly, hitting out and retracting the tips of their weapons like scorpion tails. Lilian watched their feet. Unlike the solid steps she had practised with Mr Attorcop, these two moved swiftly from foot to foot, like they were dancing. At one moment, the teacher, this Mistress Eleyna, stood on one foot whilst effortlessly blocking several strikes. Needless to say, Lilian was enthralled. They trained this way for almost ten minutes without either one landing a strike. At times their swords moved so fast, Lilian’s eyes could not track their tips. There was something familiar about the way they moved but Lilian could swear she’d never witnessed this sword style before now.

At last the young student misstepped and his teacher was quick to take advantage. She pushed forward, forcing him onto the back foot and with a lavish swirling motion she undid his grip and sent his blade flying up in the air and down into the water. It landed with a small plop and instantly began to sink.

“Good!” said Mistress Eleyna, “it seems this room suits you. But be clear, not all places are so free from distraction, sooner or later you will need to train in the market or perhaps a busy street?” Her student’s chest rose and fell quickly and Lilian could see beads of sweat forming on his brow. His teacher seemed unaffected by the fight. The young man glanced at the pool.

“Mistress, the blade.”

“Hm? Oh, well, go and get it then.” For a second he seemed confused, but Lilian did not wait for him to take the plunge. Instead, she swam down to the bottom of the pool and retrieved the blade from the centre of the sun. As her hand gripped the handle, her mind suddenly placed the move sets she had just been watching. That was how Nicholas Telson, the leader of The Guiding Hand had fought. He had been just as quick and his sword was thin and sharp and held with a light grip. Lilian knew what she had to do and by the time she pushed off from the bottom of the pool, her mind was made up. As she stepped up the tiled bank on the other side near the fighters, she released her gloaming and became visible. The two figures watched her emerge with such astounded expressions, that Lilian nearly laughed. Mistress Eleyna spoke first.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Lilian was nervous but knew what she needed to say.

“My name is Lilian Lausanne, and I need to learn to fight like you.”

Episode 44

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian felt the ocean spray on her face as the ship’s bough crashed against the waves. With each passing mile they travelled south, the sun became hotter and so the cool spray was a welcome relief. From this position she could look out and see only sky and sea. Blue on blue, with the former peppered occasionally by cotton clouds, like the white crests of the waves below only so much slower to rise and fall. Lilian turned to look back at the ship. She was the Swift Stag, a merchant vessel that ran goods between major ports up and down the western coast. Her captain, a large dark man with a cheerful character by the name of Giddeon Terne, was nearby chatting and laughing with two of the crew. Lilian reminded herself to thank him before she got off the boat at Zandt. He only had room for two passengers, and those beds had already been booked and paid for. However, after a heartfelt plea from Lilian which hinted at her predicament with the law, he had agreed to take them on the journey, provided they kept out of trouble. This was a return trip and there was always extra room below deck on a return trip.

As she stood and watched the crew mingle and work about the deck, she felt a familiar ache in her forearm. She rubbed it, absentmindedly. It still hadn’t fully healed since that fight in the Weardian Captain’s office. That had been three weeks ago now, yet the memory of it all was still very close, kept fresh by her bodies’ constant painful reminders. The days that followed the fight were a little hazy. She remembered waking up in Katrina’s spare room and seeing Mr Attorcop safe and smiling. They had talked a little about what had happened and Lilian saw that the money she had stolen was safe and hidden. But she did not see Mr Attorcop again for at least a week. She was kept fed and happy during her recovery by Katrina and her son Peter. It was them that came up with the plan for Lilian to leave the city. Wanted posters, similar to the ones that had been made for Mr Attorcop, were now appearing within the city walls and even though only a small militia loyal to the Empress was left to enforce them, they still made Freedos a dangerous place for Lilian and Fritha to live. Katrina needed supplies from Zandt and so she paid for the passage and sent her son along to make sure the materials she needed were of high quality. Once enough time had passed, they could return to the city and the populace will have moved on to some other dangerous fascination.

“It’s about time you both travelled a bit more anyway,” she had said, “that’s what being young is all about. Seeing Alicium while you’re still able to fall asleep comfortably on a hay bale.” And so it was decided. Mr Attorcop had bade them goodbye a few days ago after he had accompanied them down to the river dock just outside the city walls during the night. The Swift Stag liked to leave early to catch the tide.

“There are enough crowns in your bag to pay for accommodation and supplies. I’ve also split our remaining lunar essence and packed the vile for you.” He had whispered hurriedly on the dock.

“Did you pack the earth?” Lilian had asked. She had not been able to go anywhere to fetch her belongings.

“I did, although I’m not sure why you’d need it.” She had requested some of the earth that Mr Attorcop had brought back from the demon forest, but she didn’t want to tell him why. Truth was, she had an idea but she wanted to test it out before telling anyone about it. They had hugged and Fritha had drooled on his nice shoes and before she knew it, Lilian had sailed down the river and was out in open waters, travelling south against the rising sun.

At that moment, Peter appeared from below. His head popped up through the hole in the deck and swiveled about until it found Lilian. He smiled and hoisted himself up. Fritha followed him, scrambling up the wooden steps. Those two had become good friends during Lilian’s recovery. Peter smiled, his mop of sandy hair flitting in the breeze and Fritha lolloped unsteadily towards her. Watching the feinhound navigate her way around the boat was funny but Lilian always felt a pang of guilt for laughing when watching the forest dwelling legend slip and slide across the wet wood. The sailors had been unsure about Fritha but thankfully their captain was a worldly fellow who knew such encounters to be rare and therefore treasured.

“Morning Lily.”

“Hi Peter, Hi lady.” Fritha’s tail was wagging so much that Peter had to move out of her way to avoid being struck over and over. Lilian looked up at the boy after giving Fritha a hug. He was three years older than her and was maybe a head taller. He had not spoken much when they’d first met, but since getting to know her he had come out of his shell and turned out to be hiding a fierce intellect as well as a wicked sense of humour. Ever since his mother had disappeared from sight waving them off on the dock, his face had been fixed in a permanent cheeky grin, as if comedic malice was always right around the corner. His eyes were shining in that way now and so Lilian grew suspicious.

“What have you done?” she asked, expecting to see a sailor rush out of the cabin with an octopus on his head or something.

“Wha- nothing!” he replied. Lilian raised her eyebrows in an accusatory stare. She couldn’t believe that she had to be the sensible one on this trip. “I’m serious,” he said and then looked over his shoulder to check if anyone was nearby. Seeing the captain and his two crew members he leant forward and lowered his voice. “Well, I did see one of the passengers below deck last night.” Lilian raised her eyebrows again, this time, in surprise. The identities of the booked passengers had become a source of gossip on board. They rarely left their rooms and each time they did, Lilian had been somewhere else. She knew it was a man and a woman, but she did not know their relationship or indeed, anything else about them.

“Really?” she asked, “which one?” Fritha licked the back of her hand, which was salty from the spray. Peter glanced over his shoulder.

“The man. He was older than I thought he would be. Definitely the oldest on board.”

“A merchant?” asked Lilian. Peter frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hard to say.” Lilian smiled and chuckled a little. “What’s with you?” Peter asked.

“Nothing. Are we really so bored that seeing an old man is now considered gossip?” Peter cracked a wide grin.

“Ha! Yeah. What does that say about us eh? We’ll be lucky to have any personalities left by the time we reach Zandt.” Lilian turned back around and gazed out to the open ocean.

“Did you say you’d been there before?”

“Once,” replied Peter, leaning on the taffrail beside her, “It was a few years ago now though.”

“What’s it like?” Lilian asked.

“I don’t remember much of the actual streets, but the temple is beautiful, I remember that.” Lilian cocked her head,

“Temple?”

“Oh yeah, you can’t miss it. It’s huge and looks over the entire city. It’s got golden columns that reflect the sun at dawn. They’re really into the sun, the Zandtians, the Zandtites? I dunno, whatever. The sun, good food oh and birds.” Lilian’s smile faded a little. Hearing someone talk about the sun brought her back to that day again, lying in the street, bleeding and watching Zadoch Korshid walk calmly into the Weardian head quarter, as if he was about to ask for directions and not… well, do what he did.

“Are you okay?” Peter caught the change in her mood, he was good at reading her like that.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You thinking about Zadoch?” Lilian nodded.

“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked. Peter scrunched up his face in thought.

“Well, I heard he was being detained, but that won’t last long. He’s a holy solar pator so he could just walk out of any prison he was put in. The real question is: what’s going to happen to Katherine?” Lilian felt suddenly very worried, her friend hadn’t visited her at the rare flower market during her recovery but Mr Attorcop had said he was doing all he could to protect her. She hadn’t really known what that had meant.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Peter slowed his speech and lost his jovial tone, “she was the one who asked for his help. Technically a Pator cannot act unless they are helping someone, so the question is: Will Catherine go to the tower for asking Zadoch to help her, or will Zadoch be punished some other way for… doing what he did.” Neither of them dared name the act out loud, lest the memory attracted similar disasters. Lilian’s mind was not letting her forget though, the feeling of the heat on her face. The smell, the fires… the screams. She shook herself out of the memory and went back to idle gossip.

“So! Who is the mystery woman then? Hm?” Peter smiled and Fritha chimed a happy bell. The sea stretched out to the horizon and the taste of new adventures seasoned its salty spray.

It took another two days for them to catch their first glance of her. That morning, the Swift Stag had reached the estuary of the river Shikra and turned its sails inland. The trip had been blessed with good weather and they would be arriving at Zandt within the day. The shoreline had been sandy beaches and tall dunes for some time but now that they were approaching the river, Lilian had begun to see tall trees and thick patches of coarse grass. The Shikra, she knew from her studies with Mr Attorcop, was the only source of fresh water in this part of the world. It was the blood of the region, giving life to the flora and fauna on its banks and allowing trade ships access to the various settlements. It was so important to people’s survival that most towns and cities made polluting it a punishable offence. All waste was buried deep in the desert that sandwiched the river on both sides. Zandt was the largest of these settlements and it would take them another four or five hours of sailing upriver to reach it. Thankfully the river was wide and calm and so sailing up it wasn’t too difficult. In case the current ever did get too strong though there were several stations peppered along the banks that provided ropes and oxen to pull the ships along. Lilian was looking at one of them now. There were six enormous oxen all grazing lazily around an enclosed paddock. A man, presumably their keeper, was sitting in the sun, his shirt off and his hat over his eyes. Not a bad life, she thought as she saw one of his oxen sniff his hat and then lick his ear, causing him to wake with a start. Fritha was somewhere below deck, sleeping off a bout of sea sickness and Peter was at the helm studying the helmsman’s technique in navigating the tricky transition from ocean to river. Behind her, she heard an unfamiliar clip clop of heeled shoes on wooden deck boards. She didn’t turn around right away, doing so would answer the riddle of who the strange female passenger was, and Lilian wanted to keep the mystery alive just a little longer. She was standing on the port side and she heard whoever she was walking past behind her and up towards the bough. Lilian heard the ruffle of expensive skirts and inhaled a sweet smelling perfume. Whoever she was, she had money, and her presence felt out of place amongst the rough sailors and semi-stowaways like herself. Lilian smiled at the thought of telling Peter about her brush with the mystery woman.

As the ship hit the line where the waves met the river the wood beneath her lurched and Lilian had to steady herself. After catching her balance she looked up and found that she was staring directly into the eyes of the mystery woman. She was just a few feet away and looking at Lilian with an expression of shock and anger on her face. It took Lilian a few seconds to place the young woman’s face but when she did similar feelings began to rise up inside of her.

“You!” Both women shouted the word at the same time and threw up accusatory fingers at each other like dueling gentlemen. There was a tense silence whilst they glowered at each other, all the social niceties having been left behind in the city.

“What is an annoying country bumpkin like you doing on my ship?” said Serena Bellaswan, her bright, brown eyes gleaming in the morning sun. Lilian narrowed her gaze and tried to stop herself from saying something too harsh. A task which she failed instantly,

“You arrogant, entitled princess. First of all, I’m allowed to be here, I paid for passage and I can go wherever I like. Secondly, this isn’t your ship, it’s Gideon’s.” Lilian faltered for a second, realising that a ship could have a captain and an owner and that they could be two different people. Thankfully, Miss Bellaswan didn’t correct her.

“Just when I thought this trip couldn’t get any more awful, now I’m forced to spend the day with this ginger rube.” The young noblewoman hitched up her pale pink travelling skirt and turned on her heel. Lilian was fuming. She marched after her, determined to have the last word.

“Um, excuse me, but it’s not like my day just got brighter knowing that I’ll have to spend it looking at your sour face.” Miss Bellaswan spoke over her shoulder,

“Well no one is forcing you my dear. Besides, last time I checked you were the one following me.” Lilian stopped in her tracks and clenched her fists into tight balls. She let out a sound of frustration, half grunt, half scream. No one had ever managed to irritate her like Serena Bellaswan. She spun around and decided to go below deck to find Fritha. Perhaps she could persuade her to bite the young heiress on the bum. That would be quite delightful.

For the rest of the journey, Lilian avoided Miss Bellaswan as best she could, going above deck when she came below, and moving to the starboard side if she saw that Serena was on the port. For the most part it worked and the two young women managed to avoid each other despite the size of the vessel. Lilian enjoyed looking out into the trees, which by now had grown to be the size of houses and were thickly packed together. The river was essentially surrounded by a jungle and the heat, when mixed with the lush greenery and ample river water created a wet and humid atmosphere. Lilian found that her sweat began to stick around and within a matter of hours, everyone on board looked like they’d just jumped in the river for a cooling dip. A prospect which grew more attractive to Lilian by the minute. Occasionally, she would catch sight of a dune through the trees. A grim reminder of the sandy graveyard that met anyone or anything that left the safety of the river. Mr Attorcop had said that the desert was home to a few nomadic tribes, but several years could pass between sightings of them. They spoke their own language, had their own customs and survived by harvesting moisture from the air. Lilian was wondering if she might meet any of these tribal people while in Zandt when a spot on the horizon caught her eye. It was a bright light on the top of a hill. It was similar to the lights she would see reflected off the lakes down in the valley on a bright day in Benlunar. Only this light did not flicker or change. She heard footsteps approaching behind her and turned around to see Peter.

“Is that…?” she asked, pointing up to the hill.

“The temple? Sure is. Doesn’t look like much from here but we’ll do the hike one day and you can see it up close.” Lilian smiled. She was looking forward to that. Suddenly, she glanced down and noticed that Peter was holding a pink hat with a wide brim.

“Is that…?” she gestured to it.

“Oh! Yeah I forgot to say. I met the other passenger! She’s a young woman called Serena…”

“Bellaswan.” Lilian finished his sentence. Peter looked shocked.

“You met her too?” Lilian grumbled something by way of reply. Peter went on, “Isn’t she lovely? The bow on her hat had come unstuck so I offered to fix it for her.” Lilian rolled her eyes. Suddenly, as if her ears had been burning, Serena Bellaswan appeared from below deck. She glanced about, saw Peter and smiled, then she saw Lilian and her smile disappeared.

“Peter darling,” she said as she climbed up onto the deck and approached them, “I don’t suppose you have my hat? Oh look!” she smiled broadly, flashing teeth as bright as the light on the hill behind her, and took the hat from Peter, “It looks wonderful, thank you ever so much. How can I repay you?” Her golden curls bobbed in time with the boat and Lilian found herself infuriated to see that even in this humidity, not a single hair was out of place. Lilian had caught sight of her reflection in the river just now and she looked as though a pigeon had made a nest on her head.

“No need Miss Bellaswan, it was my pleasure.” said Peter, “The flaw was quick to fix, tis a fine… bonnet.” Lilian looked at him, confused. Why was he changing the way he spoke? His posture had changed as well, he was standing up straight and grinning like an idiot. Miss Bellaswan looked between him and Lilian.

“Peter my dear, do you know this… person?” Lilian snorted irritably. Apparently, Peter was oblivious to the tension between them.

“This is my friend Lilian, we’re travelling to Zandt to escape oof!” Lilian elbowed him sharply in the side. Peter shot her a hurt look. Mouthy twit, thought Lilian. Miss Bellaswan arched a single eyebrow.

“Well once we’re in Zandt feel free to come and find me. We’re staying at the Thorn and Paw, near the base of the hill.” Peter quickly forgot about the pain in his side and nodded emphatically at the offer.

“I will miss, I - I hear the tea rooms in that quarter are delightful. Perhaps we could visit one together?” Miss Bellaswan smiled obsequiously.

“It’s a date. And do feel free to come… alone” Peter bowed and she walked past him, briefly touching his shoulder as she went. Once out of his eyeline, she turned to shoot Lilian a look of haughty self satisfaction. It made Lilian’s blood boil. Once she was gone, Lilian looked back to Peter and thumped him on the arm.

“Ow!” he protested.

“‘We’re here to escape’” Lilian parroted him, wobbling her head in mockery, “fool.”

“Yeah, er, sorry about that. She’s… disarming.” Lilian curled her lip and went back to looking upriver. She could see a few brightly coloured rooftops in the distance and the river seemed to be widening. Suddenly, Captain Gideon called for all hands from the helm and Lilian knew they were close to the docks.

The city of Zandt overwhelmed the senses of all who visited. The squat houses stretched out into the distance like a sprawling jigsaw where all the pieces had been forced to fit together. Most of them were white and square with dark little holes in the walls for windows. Some were painted blue or yellow or orange, giving the sea of whiteness an occasional splash of colour. As the Swift Stag pulled into the dock they had to navigate around a myriad of other vessels. Small wide bottomed ferries, larger sea faring trawlers and even the occasional trade ship like theirs. As the ropes were thrown down to the dock hands and the boarding plank was being safely put into place, Lilian skipped between port and starboard sides to look at all the activity around her. Fritha joined her, happily wagging her tail, thinking this was some kind of game. Lilian’s cheeks ached from smiling. She looked overboard to see two long black punt boats overflowing with different coloured fruit. Fruit she had never seen before and that she did not even know the names of. They had come from upriver and would occasionally be hailed down by city citizens on the banks. Lilian inhaled deeply and took in the sweet smoky smell wafting on the breeze from the harbour market. The people mostly wore long and flowing garments which were meant to keep them cool in the sun. Almost everyone wore something to cover their head, usually a wrap or a cotton scarf dyed in bright blues and greens. There was music coming from somewhere not too far away, lending a jovial accompaniment to the hubbub of the bustling crowds. Overseeing everything was the temple on the mount, which Lilian had learned was called the Simurgh. The sun had long past its zenith so the reflection from the golden columns was not quite so bright as it had been on their approach to the city.

She turned to see Peter waiting for her between the boarding plank and Captain Terne. A few of the crew had already disembarked and it seemed as though the captain wanted to be the last to leave. He smiled as Lilian and Fritha approached.

“A calm and quiet journey, surely thanks to you and your friend my lady.” said the sailor, gesturing down towards Fritha. Lilian shook her head.

“It was all down to you and your crew Captain, we could not have wished for safer hands to carry us south.” This seemed to please him greatly and he bowed low in thanks.

“Well since this was so successful, I hope you will be joining us again on your return journey? Sailors are superstitious folk so convincing the crew shouldn’t be so hard now that they’ve seen what luck you both can bring.” Lilian looked at Peter and smiled.

“We should like that very much, Captain Terne, thank you.” said the young lad. Lilian noticed the captain glancing down at Fritha, a curious look in his eyes.

“Would you like to stroke her?” she asked. The captain’s face lit up.

“My lady, only if I may.” Lilian giggled and reached into her pocket for a sour berry.

“Of course! Here, give her one of these and she’ll love you forever.” She handed it to him and he took it with great care. Fritha had already smelled it and was eagerly following its journey from hand to hand. The seasoned sailor bent down low and held his left hand out for Fritha to smell. As he opened it to reveal the berry, he touched her neck with his right hand. Fritha’s coat was currently a deep emerald green, like the ocean. His eyes widened as he saw it change colour to match his skin tone where he touched it.

“Remarkable…” he whispered under his breath. Lilian smiled, she loved seeing how people reacted when they saw Fritha up close.

Suddenly, the sounds of raised voices caught her attention. The captain heard them as well, and stood up to see what was going on. On the harbour floor, just before the slick boards met the sandy flagstones of the market, an argument was breaking out. Lilian squinted to see, lifting her hand to her brow to block out the sun. She tutted and mumbled under her breath,

“What’s she doing now?” Serena Bellaswan was raising her voice and stamping her foot in front of a tall man dressed in a dark, traditional robe. He wore a dark red wrap on his head and a stern expression on his face.

“Captain Terne, thank you for everything, we’ll find you again to arrange our return.” The captain smiled in understanding and bid them farewell.

It felt fantastic to have solid ground beneath her feet again, Fritha had been so excited she practically leaped down the boarding plank. Lilian had no time to savour the sensation though as Serena’s altercation was drawing the attention of a small crowd. Peter was marching close behind, they both carried their travel bags over their shoulders and Lilian was quickly beginning to realise why everyone wore baggy clothes and covered their heads. The heat was oppressive, like the hottest summer day in Benlunar but without any wind or chance of rain. They reached Serena in just a few seconds. The argument was reaching its climax and for the first time ever, Lilian thought she saw a single hair out of place on Serena’s forehead. The other passenger, the older man, was also there. He was apparently part of Serena’s travelling retinue, a guide or relative of some kind to ensure her safety and attend to her wellbeing. At that moment, he was standing off to one side looking sheepish beside her two large travelling trunks. Lilian let Peter step ahead of her, preferring to assess the situation before stepping in.

“Miss Bellaswan?” he said, meekly, and she spun round quickly, turning her ire on him. Her face softened a little when she saw who was speaking, but she still looked furious. “Is everything alright?”

“Peter dearest, everything is NOT alright. This ‘gentleman’ has just informed me that our residence won’t be ready for another two days! Where am I supposed to keep my things? Where am I supposed to sleep!?” Peter turned to the man.

“Can nothing be done?” The tall, imposing Zandtian folded his arms and shrugged. For the first time since they’d seen him from the deck of their ship, his expression softened a little.

“It’s hard to say,” his voice was gravelly and he spoke in a thick regional accent, “It is not my fault, huh? There is still a family in the house. Perhaps they could be persuaded to leave early…” He waved his hands in an odd, suggestive manner. Lilian didn’t quite understand the mannerism but Peter seemed to catch on. He turned back to them and lowered his voice.

“I’m not one hundred per cent, but I think he might be asking for a bribe…” A look of understanding fell upon Serena’s face. She had dealt with this kind of thing before. The look didn’t stay long however, as it quickly turned back to anger.

“I have been cooped up on a smelly ship for over a week. All I want is a bath, a tea and a bed. If you cannot give me that right this instant,” she stamped her foot, addressing the serious man in front of them, “then I’m sure there are plenty of other inn’s, guest houses or hotels that can accommodate us…” with that, she hitched up her skirt and looked ready to walk away when her travelling companion, the older man that had been on the ship with them interrupted her.

“Miss, the accommodation has been arranged and… paid for in advance. Your mother…” Serena let out an exasperated groan.

“URRGH! Fine!” She began reaching into the folds of her skirt, Lilian guessed she had a hidden pocket there where she kept her purse. “How much are we thinking, hm? Four bits? Six, seven?” Peter put a hand on her arm and stopped her.

“Hold on,” he said and turned back to the man, “Sir, please. I’m sure if the rooms are pleasant and the service is good then a reward at the end of the trip will suffice. We have travelled far and my friend needs a…” Suddenly, the man, having seen Serena reach for her purse and expecting an imminent prize, placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and in one swift movement, shoved him aside. Peter stumbled. The move hadn’t been quite enough to knock him over, but it was far too forceful to be considered friendly.

Lilian had stepped forward as soon as the man had raised his hand above waist height. She stood between him and Serena with a serious look on her face.

“Please don’t touch my friend,” she said softly, trying to keep her anger in check. For the first time since leaving Freedos she wished she still had Kissandra’s blade with her. The assassin had come to collect it during Lilian’s recovery as part of the deal for the information she’d given on the Weardian headquarters. The man stood two heads taller than Lilian and scowled at her, annoyed at the interruption.

“This is business, child. Step out of the way.” He went to lift his hand up again to move her aside, just like he had done with Peter, but Lilian was ready. She brought her right hand up to block his wrist, the impact sent a pang of pain through her injured arm, but she didn’t care. In a flash she had his hand in a lock and twisted it round and back causing the man to wince. Holds like these were easy to block in a fight, but if they caught you by surprise, there was little you could do to break loose. The man choked on his breath as Lilian brought him slowly down to his knees. Fritha was there waiting for him, becoming visible just in time for him to see her dagger sharp teeth bared and slowly approaching his neck. Lilian saw his eyes widen in terror as Fritha’s jaws opened. She spoke softly,

“My friend can move into her residence today, correct?” The man resisted for a second, but Lilian twisted his arm an inch further. He let out a high pitched sound before nodding emphatically. Lilian let him go and he stood up quickly, rubbing his arm and attempting to fix his wounded pride. If looks could kill then Lilian would have been dead ten times over. Without a sound, he grabbed one of Serena’s travelling trunks and mumbled,

“Welcome to Zandt.”

Episode 43

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In an opulent office on the top floor of the Weardian headquarters in Freedos, Lilian Lausanne is standing stock still. A voice in her head is screaming at her to move, but fear has frozen her legs and shortened her breath to the point where free and fluid movement have become impossible. The man in front of her, a young Weardian officer, just drank an entire canister of Nightshade and Lilian was having difficulty knowing how to react. She could run out of the office door and be faced with the remaining Weardian force, or she could stick to the original plan and try to get out of the window and climb down the wall of the building to street level. As she watched the last drop of purple potion fall into the man’s mouth she tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.

Suddenly he dropped the canister and doubled over, clutching his stomach. The container hit the carpet with a thud and rolled towards Lilian’s feet. A memory sparked in her mind. The last time she’d watched someone take Nightshade the same thing had happened. Alexi Genaro, the self proclaimed freedom fighter, had drunk the potion near Chekhad Square. The same thing had happened to him as was happening to this young officer right now. Lilian quickly recalled the fight in her mind. The thugs he had been dealing with had reached for a crossbow rather than running straight forward and attacking him. In the time it had taken to load the weapon though, the Nightshade had taken effect and its strengthening capabilities had enhanced Genero’s body. Perhaps there was a window there, a few seconds where the Nightshade needed time to act. A groan escaped from the young officer’s body. He was still crouching down, clutching his abdomen as if he’d just been hit by the world’s worst stomach ache.

Lilian wasted no more time. She pushed her fears aside and put energy back into her legs. Giving the officer a wide berth she rushed round to the right, carving a wide arc towards the open window. He noticed her moving and looked as though he tried to block her path, but the pain was too great and he was forced to the floor once again. Lilian said a silent thank you to whichever god or goddess was watching over her. A couple more gold crowns spilled from her bag, but she ignored them, content with the bulk of the hall still being secure.

She was two steps away from the window sill, practically home free, when a deafening crash stopped her mid run.

The young officer had crawled over to the desk, reached up to grab a heavy glass paperweight and had hurled it at Lilian. Thankfully, the Nightshade was still taking effect so his aim had been off and the heavy orb had hit the wall, shattering into a thousand glass shards upon impact. Lilian cursed his persistence. Before she could take another step he had reached for a candelabra and was throwing that as well. This time, his aim was better and Lilian had to take two steps back to avoid it. The candles fell away midair and the heavy metal object hit the wall with a clang before falling to the floor. Lilian glanced over at the wall, the impact had left a large dent in the paneling. She cursed, the Nightshade was taking effect. Within a few seconds he would be filled with years of amassed strength and reflexes. She looked back at him in time to dodge a book aimed at her head. His eyes were already beginning to bleed that eerie purple ichor, the telltale signifier of a Nightshade user. His breathing was becoming heavier too, occasionally he would let out a grunt when he threw something and when he spoke, his voice was noticeably deeper.

“I will stop you!”

Lilian had run out of time. What’s more, she was pinned in the corner. She’d let her opponent control the middle of the space and he had a large supply of projectiles to hand. These were basic mistakes and she cursed her panic stricken brain for letting her make them. Mr Attorcop would not be happy. She spun to her right to dodge an incoming inkwell. It exploded in a shower of black liquid when it hit the wall. Anger began to rise up inside Lilian, shoving fear and panic aside. Stuff this, she thought, and before her attacker could grab anything else, she pushed herself off the wall, and went on the attack.

To an outside observer, or indeed, anyone who knew anything about Nightshade, this was a bad idea. But Lilian had no other choice, he was blocking her exit and would only keep growing stronger unless she put him out of action. She dodged left and right as she moved towards him, trying to confuse his ichor addled eyes. He focused his attention on her and Lilian saw his fingers widen, this showed her that he was going to try and grab her. Good, she thought, he was a little bigger than her so she should be able to avoid his grasp. She feinted left and he took the bait, lunging clumsily to where he thought she was going. Instead, Lilian dropped down and disappeared from his line of sight, using her forward momentum to propel herself between his legs. She stood up quickly, but not to her full height. She had anticipated his twisting backward punch and so remaining crouched she kicked out at his knee. His center of gravity was off from the twist and as Mr Attorcop had once said, ‘you can be as strong as you like, but you can’t beat gravity.’ And so Lilian used gravity to her advantage, shoving the officer with all her might as he tried to find his footing after the kick. Luckily, it worked. The officer fell and so now Lilian had the advantage. She reached blindly behind her at the desk and closed her fingers on the first thing she came into contact with. It was cold, and heavy. Lilian had to shift her body to compensate for its weight. She bought the object up and over her head just as the officer was beginning to stand up. Suddenly, she felt water splashing down the back of her neck and she realised that she’d grabbed the large glass vase. There was no time to reconsider. A shower of flowers cascaded all around her as she brought the vase down directly on top of the officer’s head.

The impact had been enough to shatter the glass and send the officer back down to the floor with a sickening crack. Lilian looked up, the path to the window was clear, but something drew her attention to the back of the room. A small cloud of smoke was coming from the far bookcase, flickering flames writhing at the base.

‘Twelve Hells…” she cursed. Quickly stepping over the young officer, who was unconscious and unmoving, she glanced around the room for a means of fighting the fire. She saw one of the candles from the candelabra lying guiltily on the floor. It must have remained lit after the officer had thrown its base. A small voice in her brain told her to leave the fire and run, but that decision would undoubtedly lead to the death of the young man in front of her. No, she could be responsible for that, no matter how much hurt he had intended to inflict on her, she could not leave him to die. She remembered the fear that had been in his eyes when he’d seen her come out of her invisibility. He was still young, and his death would weigh too heavy on her heart.

Lilian’s spirits fell again when she looked around and realised that she’d just spent the only source of water in the room on knocking out her assailant. Muttering several more curses, she scanned the office. All she could see were books, shelves and papers. Every object her eyes fell on looked more flammable than the last. A groan from her feet drew her attention to the officer. His body was shifting a little and he seemed to be coming round. A loud crack drew her attention back to the fire, it had begun to creep up the bookshelf, within minutes, it would be out of control. Lilian glanced behind her for inspiration. There was a small, glass shelving unit on the opposite wall to the window. On it were several decanters and glass bottles containing different coloured liquids. She ran over to it and grabbed one, acting on pure instinct at this point. Thankfully, common sense still resided somewhere in her panicking mind. She unstoppered the bottle and sniffed the contents. She reeled back at the pungent and unmistakable odor which invaded her nostrils and stung her eyes. Alcohol. If she’d thrown this on the fire, the whole room would have gone up like the Garrow’s barn. She threw the bottle to one side in frustration, all decorum having left her. She went back to the bottles and looked for anything clear. Surely whoever worked here must mix their spirits with something, she thought, picking up bottle after bottle and smelling the liquid inside. Finally, on the fourth bottle, she couldn’t smell anything. Her heart jumped with joy, water!

Lilian rushed over to the bookshelf. The flames were up to her eyeline now. She had to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve as she approached the blaze. Her eyes hurt from having to keep them open amidst the cloud of ash that was now spewing out of the bookshelf. She focused them on the base of the fire and tipped the bottle over it as best she could. The glug-glug of the water preceded a satisfying hiss as the liquid hit the flames. She aimed the neck of the bottle up to the books that were being licked black by the fire. She watched the precious, life-saving liquid drain from the bottle. Her eyes were crying from the sting of the smoke but she kept at it. Emptying the bottle all over the carpet, the bookshelf and the surrounding floorboards, she made sure every last drop was spent before throwing the bottle on the floor, satisfied that the fire was finally out. Now she could escape with a clear conscience and head down to rescue Mr Attorcop from the basement cells.

Just then, she heard a scraping, shifting sound coming from behind her. Turning slowly, Lilian saw a dark shape starting to loom up and above her. All the air left her lungs, all the strength drained from her legs. The young Weardian officer had woken up, the Nightshade having quickened his recovery, and he was standing with his left arm raised above his head. In his hand, suspended as if by magic or some deific power, he held the massive wooden desk. Lilian took a gulp of air but coughed it back out quickly as the hot ash from the fire still choked the air around her. She tried to spit and splutter a word, a cry for help, anything. But no words escaped her. In a flash, too quick to be human, the officer heaved the table towards her, uttering his repeated warning that now became a dreadful threat.

“I WILL STOP YOU.” This single idea had taken control of his mind as was made obvious by this drastic attack. Lilian barely had time to flinch before the desk was sent careening through the smokey air. She brought her arms up, crossed in front of her face in defence but there was nothing she could do but brace for impact. The full force of the furniture hit her like a galloping horse. Lilian was instantly knocked back and felt a sharp pain in her right forearm. The table flattened her body against the wall behind her and even though most of the air had been pushed out of her lungs, she had thankfully managed to remain conscious. She had anticipated more damage and couldn't understand why she hadn't been completely obliterated by the heavy oak table. In the dark space between wall and table though she was able to notice a crack in the bookshelf to her right. It seemed as though the books had taken the brunt of the force, a few lay piled by her feet. Still, her arm hurt like Hell and she suspected a broken femur at the very least.

As quickly as it had appeared, the table was pulled away. The young officer, blinded by rage and power, threw it aside as if it was a broken apple barrel. Lillian took in a shocked breath when she saw his eyes. They were now fully dyed sickly purple and had dark, raised veins all around them. Lillian caught a glimpse of more dark mauve liquid seeping out of their edges, like he was crying tears of thick claret. She kicked out, trying to put him off balance again, but this time he anticipated her attack. His hand whipped down just in time to catch her foot by the ankle. With a deep grunt he flicked his arm back and Lillian went flying forwards, foot first. She twisted mid-air and landed on her broken arm. A blinding light shot across her vision as her whole body winced from the pain.

Lilian tried to open her eyes but her vision was blurry from the impact. Determined not to give up, she attempted to stand. But it was no use. In two seconds, the officer was on her and she felt a pair of abnormally strong hands grip her shirt and trousers. Her vision returned in time for her to see the carpet rush back into the distance as she was unceremoniously hoisted into the air. Lilian began to kick and flail above the officer’s head, sending the odd gold coin flying out of her bag, but to no avail. The officer's grip was too strong and even punching him in the head, which she managed to do twice with her good hand, was useless. The officer ignored the blows like they were flies buzzing about. Lilian felt a new kind of dread when she looked up and realised she was being walked towards the window. Her mind reeled and she resorted to desperate pleas.

"No, I beg you! You don't have to do this, stop! Please stop!" But her prayers fell on deaf ears and with a final lurching heave, Lilian was thrown out of the open window.

Lilian Lausanne had heard it said once, that in times of great danger time appears to slow. The trillion fibres of the mind fire at once in response to the stress and a person interprets this by seeing the world move more slowly. This allows the brain to see previously hidden solutions, fire warnings to the body to move out of the way of danger and do all that it can to save its fragile corporeal cage. For Lilian flying through the window however, none of this was true. One moment she was in the hot, ash-filled office, the next she was feeling the evening breeze on her face. And no sooner did she notice the flagstones down on the road below, did she see them rushing up towards her at break neck speed. Thankfully, she had the sense and time to cover her head with her arms. She’d fallen off horses and ladders in the past, but this impact would not be so forgiving. She braced herself, took a breath and shut her eyes.

“Lilian! Lilian??”

After some time, Lilian was not sure exactly how long, she began to hear something. Through fuzzy darkness, a voice was speaking. It sounded familiar. Was it saying… a name? Yes. And not just any name. It was her name. It was both strange and familiar. Nearby but also very far away. Her ears latched onto the sound and let it guide her mind back to waking. As soon as she was able to open her eyes to see who it was that was speaking however, she was met by intense pain coursing through her body. A white hot sharpness punctured every breath, a heavy stinging came from her right arm and her head was beating out a rhythmic, throbbing ache which blurred her vision and muddled her mind. The voice nearby was persistent though, so she opened her eyes to try and make sense of her surroundings. Although the sun was setting there was still enough light to make her eyes hurt.

“Lilian? Oh, you’re awake, thank goodness.” She recognised the voice just as its owner came into focus.

“Katherine?” Lilian tried saying her friend’s name, but only a quiet, creaky whisper came out.

“Don’t speak my love, we’re going to get you somewhere safe.” Lilian was able to shift her head enough to get a better sense of her surroundings. Katherine was kneeling beside her and looking about for someone who could help them. The sky was tinted pink by the setting sun and despite the fact that it was a warm, balmy evening, a large dark cloud hung above them. She followed the cloud, which was moving at an alarming rate, and saw that her eyes had deceived her again. This was no storm cloud, but a steady stream of black smoke pouring out of several of the windows above her. Odd, she thought. She could have sworn she had put out the fire. The memory of the blaze sparked the rest of her mind to life and Lilian could suddenly remember everything that had happened prior to her untimely ejection from the building via the office window. She had no idea why Katherine was here but before asking she decided to check to see whether her bag of coins was still by her side. She lifted her head slightly, sending a jolt of pain down her neck but she saw it, tucked under the small of her back. Her right hand went to touch it and she could feel the hard metal beneath the canvas. It was all there. Technically, she had succeeded in leaving the building with the contents of the coffers, but it was a bit of a pyrrhic victory considering her current condition. And Mr Attorcop! The thought of him spurred her to speak even though her mouth was dry and each word was agony.

“Crom… well…”

“Hush my darling, don’t speak, Taymore will be here soon and we can get you somewhere safe.” Lilian didn’t recognise the name Taymore, so was confused as to who that might be. Katherine went back to looking about, occasionally she would tense her body and Lilian would feel a small pang where her hand would squeeze her shoulder. Lilian turned her head. There were a lot more people around than she had thought. Weardian officers carrying buckets rushed too and fro, in and out of the burning building. Bystanders gathered in small crowds, some were pointing at her and Katherine. There was an atmosphere of panic and confusion. Lilian wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been arrested yet but gathered that the fire must have taken priority over finding the thief. Besides, if no one had actually seen her being thrown out of the window, then she was just an injured young girl. The bystanders would assume she’d been knocked down by a horse or something. Lilian thanked the heavens for the small victory.

“Please, excuse me! We need help!” Katherine was trying to stop the odd Weardian officer as they rushed past, but they were too busy with the fire to acknowledge her, or perhaps too selfish to care. Lilian managed a small smile, so much work to save an office that was currently unable to pay them. If they chose to help an injured girl, they would be saving their jobs. The irony tasted sweet. “Please, anyone!” Lilian could hear desperation in Katherine’s voice. Lilian wanted to say that she was fine, but she noticed then that Katherine’s hand was stained red. The shock from the crimson stain caused her vision to blur again. She was hurting so much all over that she had no idea from where or how badly she was bleeding. She looked back up at Katherine and her vision focused enough to see that she was crying.

“Please! I need help, my friend is hurt!” Her quiet pleas had become desperate shouts, but still no one paid her any attention. One officer even jostled into her and carried on without so much as an apology. Katherine began to sob. It hurt Lilian to see her friend like this, she wanted to say that she was okay. But the words caught in her throat. Which was itself a sign that she was not okay.

Suddenly, as if answering some low whispered prayer, a figure dressed all in white and gold appeared above them. It was a man and when he spoke, his voice was low and calm.

“Good evening little rabbits. The sun is sadly setting, but perhaps I might shine its light on you both?” Katherine looked up and smiled in relief. Lilian turned her head and saw the bright white coat and shining blue eyes of Zadoch Korshid. He knelt down beside her and Lilian could see that his eyes were flecked with gold and had a mad look in them. Her heart jumped at the sight of a friendly face. Zadoch smiled and spoke in earnest.

“It looks as though you are in need of... help.” Lilian kept her mouth shut, even in this dire situation, she knew not to accept the help of a Holy Solar Pater.

“Yes, please Mr Zadoch.” Lilian’s heart sank. Katherine did not know. She shifted and began to speak…

“No… Kath… don’t.”

“Please Lilian, try and be quiet. See Mr Zadoch, she’s hurt. I don’t know what happened.” Zadoch looked her over with a healer’s eye and furrowed his brow.

“Hm… and where is our friend Cromwell?” Katherine looked around.

“I… I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him.” Zadoch looked once at Lilian who met his eye with what she hoped was a stern, disapproving expression. Zadoch then saw the bag at her side, looked back at the burning building and pieced the whole thing together.

“I think I understand. If my supposition is correct, Cromwell will be somewhere in there. Doubtless fearful for his life. The fire is spreading quickly.” Katherine began to breathe quickly, taking big gulps of hot, ash filled air with each panicked breath.

“Could you help him too?” She asked, her voice laden with despair. Zadoch responded with a shining bright smile.

“Yes, that should not pose a problem.” Katherine looked relieved.

“Thank you, Mr Zadoch, thank you. Now, if you could help me lift Lilian…” Zadoch, interrupted her.

“No need my dear. Just hold out your hand and speak aloud that you officially and unequivocally require and desire my help, in full knowledge that I am a practitioner and pater of the Holy Solar Order. Give me your hand child, and all will be well.” Katherine did as she was told. She looked confused but seemed ready to do anything in order for help to be given, even a silly thing like shaking hands. Lilian tried to protest.

“No… Katherine… don’t.”

“Yes… fine…” She went on, ignoring Lilian, “I officially ask for your help. Now if you could just…” Zadoc interrupted her by going to touch her outstretched hand. Lilian could only look on in horror, as he turned Katherine’s palm to face the sky and then sandwiched it between his two hands. He was kneeling now and had his eyes closed as if in prayer. When he spoke, his voice was different. A little deeper, perhaps, more serious.

“I accept your request and by the power of the sun, shall fulfill your wish above and beyond the capacity of mortal men.” Katherine’s face was a picture of confusion. Lilian cursed her broken body and knew that if she survived, she would live to regret being unable to stop the pact that had just taken place before her. The sun finally set behind the old volcano but the light began to grow.

It was small at first, like a single candle at the back of the Stave Church. But then it was joined by others, little lights flickering on around the first. Within seconds Lilian was surrounded by a light as strong as a small fire. She looked around for its source, expecting to see a mass of paper lanterns or a cart having caught a flame from the nearby building. But there was nothing. Then, the light intensified as Zadoch Korshid leant towards her. Lilian had trouble keeping her focus on him, but she thought she could make out the shape of him holding his hands over her. He held them one over the other, both palms down and fingers splayed out. The light grew stronger still, strong enough to force Lilian to shut her eyes. Her next breath came easier than the last, and with each one that followed, the worst of the pain began to subside. Her head became slightly less heavy, her arm: more relaxed and movable. The process did not last long but by the end of it Lilian felt considerably better. She was even able to open her eyes and move about without too much difficulty. She propped herself up on her left elbow and looked at Zadoch.

“That’s all I can do for now. I should hurry to help Cromwell.” And without another word, he stood up and left, too fast for Lilian to even thank him. As he disappeared from view, the light left with him. With it, went a strange heat that had been growing for some time. Lilian turned around to watch Zadoch stride across the road towards the entrance of the Weardian Headquarters. He was largely ignored by the officers nearby who were still preoccupied with putting out the fire. Perhaps, Lilian would ponder later, if there hadn’t been a fire, they would have sensed the heat coming from behind them in time. Some of them did turn when he got too close. Lilian heard them shout warnings first and threats soon after. None of their words or gestures distracted Zadoch though. He walked forwards with a calm, constant pace. Lilian still wasn’t fully recovered and so had to shut her eyes when once again, the light became too bright. The heat was also back and growing in intensity by the second. Lilian continued to keep her eyes shut and even turned her face away from its source which she took to be Zadoch himself, or something close to him.

Suddenly the light dipped, Zadoch must have entered the building. Even from this far away, she could still feel the heat. Those inside the Weardian headquarters must have felt it too, only with greater intensity. She began to hear screaming from inside the building. Lilian thought of the sun, of the incredible power by which it gave the world life, and of the terrible reminder of how it took it away.

Episode 42

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian had to remind herself to keep breathing. Her heart was thumping so heavily she worried that it might give her away. She and Mr Attorcop had successfully infiltrated the Weardian headquarters in Laga quarter with the goal of stealing a large sum of money from their coffers. It was their hope that taking this stash for their own would rob the Weardian of their pay for the next few months and without a cash incentive to work, the group of uniformed thugs would disband. With the army off quashing a revolution in some far off land and the city devoid of police the people might be persuaded to turn on their leaders and the palace would be easier to overwhelm and the system of power could be overturned. Simple enough, thought Lilian, but first things first. She had just seen Mr Attorcop disappear around a corner and taken down to the dungeon. Under any other circumstances this would be deeply troubling, but thankfully it was all part of the plan. Lilian had lifted a spare set of keys from one of the guards outside and she planned on using them later to set him free. The keys would hopefully also prove useful in accessing the coffers, but that remained to be seen. At this very moment Lilian was waiting for a Weardian officer to move away from a table. He was blocking her path to the next staircase and she needed to make it all the way to the top floor to find the room with the safe in it. Thankfully she had prepared for a long time before starting the mission and was currently using the ability to turn invisible that she borrowed from a few strands of Fritha’s fur. All she had to do was be patient, breathe quietly and she should be fine.

The first floor was one large, open space filled with desks. There was no order to their placement, they seemed to be dotted around the room in a fashion dictated by time and convenience. Each one had sheets of parchment scattered on its surface and most had a Weardain officer seated by or standing next to them. Lilian had expected the building to be filled with men but there was the occasional woman sitting and scribbling away. The place looked built for rigorous record keeping but as the Weardian powers had grown, the need for strict records must have faded away and this office space had become neglected. When your word is law, you don’t need to justify your actions to anyone. The officer blocking Lilian’s path was deep in thought, studying a letter of some kind. He had an angular face that for a second Lilian thought she recognised. He must have been one of the officers that had stopped her and Katherine that day she first met the imposter Simos Helmont. She didn’t let herself become distracted.

“Taymor?” A voice from the other side of the room caught the officer’s attention. He stood up straight to see who had called his name and then moved away from his desk to go and see what they wanted. Lilian thanked the gods. Keeping low she moved up along the path between the desks. Her camouflage was impressive but it would not survive close scrutiny and it worked best when she kept very still. Even with all the wonders of gloaming on her side, Lilian still had to be careful. Keeping her head down then she dodged round a wicker basket filled with scrunched up parchment, waited four seconds for a young woman to walk past her and darted between two desks and then stopped again. The staircase was within spitting distance, but she couldn’t risk it right now. There was a small group of officers, two men and a woman, standing close in conversation. One of the men was regaling the others with a story.

“So I pick up the pouch and give it a sniff right? And I look at him and say, ‘you got a permit for selling this stuff?’ and he looks at me like he’s seen his dead dad’s ghost.” The man couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Suddenly, his colleague chimed in.

“You don’t need a permit for tobacco.”

“I know that you twit but he didn’t” the rest of the group joined in with the joke, throwing their heads back in glee. “So anyway, fortnite goes past and I’m downstairs chattin’ to Francis and this little fellow comes in, never seen him before, shakin in his boots, goes up to the front desk and says: ‘g-good morning, I’d like to apply for a tobacco license please’” the group erupted in another explosion of laughter. The storyteller slapped his colleague on the back and choked words out between cackles, “What’d I say? Eh? Word gets round! Jeremy on the desk looked like he’d been slapped. He didn’t know what to give the poor bloke!” Suddenly the laughter was cut short, replaced by strict silence. Lilian craned her neck round a corner to understand why. The man who had impeded her progress moments ago was walking over to the group. His angular face stern and his gait filled with reproachful purpose. He had fair hair that was cut short and the shoulders of his long green coat were adorned with blue straps, marking him out as some kind of senior officer, Lilian didn’t know the right term. A sergeant perhaps?

“Jacobs, Smythe, Anders.” He spoke the officer’s names like he was spitting out poison.

“Sir,” the three of them spoke in unison, standing to attention when they heard their names. The senior weardian left them to stew in an uncomfortable silence before speaking.

“Seeing as you all have the time to swap such… amusing tales. I trust this means you’re finished with your duties for the morning?” The man who had told the story, spoke up, not daring to look his superior in the eye.

“Yes Sir, just on a break after patrolling Bonneville…”

“Excellent,” the fair-haired man cut him off, “I’ve just been told that we’ve apprehended Attorcop,” Lilian watched the three officer’s eyes widen in surprise, “Seeing as you’re all finished with your duties you can process the paperwork before his interview.” Judging by their body language, it looked to Lilian like they had just been told to clean out the stables with their bare hands. “Dismissed.” The officers dispersed, crestfallen, and Lilian watched the fair haired sergeant pause before going back to his desk. In the brief moment before moving, she could have sworn she saw his eyes narrow in suspicion and glance around in her general direction. She knew there could be no way he could spot her, but she ducked her head down just in case. When the area was clear and everyone was on the other side of the room, Lilian took one final glance around to see if anyone was watching the stairs. With everyone’s heads down and no one blocking her path anymore, Lilian headed for the upper level, keeping low and slow so as to not alert anyone. Strangely, her heart beat had calmed down. As she crept closer to the staircase, she began to feel as though the plan might actually work, the thought eased her nerves and renewed her confidence.

The top floor of the Weardian building was thankfully much quieter. The stairs lead on to a single hallway that seemed to stretch the entire length of the floor. Doors lined the walls on either side and lead to one set of large double doors at the very end. The corridor was quiet but Lilian could see shadows moving in the crack at the bottom of the set of double doors, she was not out of the woods just yet. She knew that the room containing the coffers was on this floor, but she did not know which room they were in.

As soon as she stepped towards the first door, she felt a wave of tiredness wash over her body. She had stayed in gloaming this long before, but she was approaching her limit and her body was reminding her that she had the whole journey back down the building yet to go. She persevered and moved up to the first door. A whispered curse slipped her lips when she realised that all the doors were blank. None had plaques or signs denoting what was behind them so Lilian would have to try each one. This would add time to the mission, time she did not have. Lilian sighed and reached her hand out to grab the handle on the first door. Nightmare scenarios were running through her mind, what if there were people in the room? What if the doors were rigged with some sort of alarm? Her heart began to beat quickly again. Come on Lilian, she thought to herself, you’ve come this far, no sense in backing down now. She felt the cool metal of the handle on her fingertips and was about to twist it downwards when she noticed the keyhole beneath it. Idiot, she thought, just look through the keyhole! Kicking herself and calming down a bit, she removed her hand and leant forward. She couldn’t see much through the small hole, a few tall cupboards, some with metal grating over them instead of doors. Kissandra had assured them that the money would be kept in a safe and so, not seeing one of those, Lilian moved on to the next door.

It wasn’t until the fifth door, which was the third on the left, that Lilian got lucky. Seconds before looking through the keyhole, she thought she heard someone coming up the staircase, but thankfully it was just a pair of heavy boots sounding at the bottom of the stairs. As she went to look through the keyhole she noticed that her hand was regaining some of its opacity. She whispered a silent prayer to the Padda Stone and looked through the small hole. The room was a messy one. It was a similar size to the others she’d observed but had a lot more papers strewn about it as well as a shelving unit, tall as the ceiling, stacked with leather bound folders, papers tied with string and even the occasional cylindrical map case. Lilian’s heart skipped a beat however when her eyes landed on the large metal safe in the corner. That must be it, she thought. She reached down to the ring of keys on her belt and sent another prayer to Gorakja himself that the right one would be on here. The officer to whom they belonged to would have noticed they were missing by now, but if Mr Attorcop was to be believed then ‘he would be too busy trying to fix his mistake before admitting to anyone he’d lost something so important’.

It only took two wrong keys. The third one slid into the lock and with a satisfying ‘click’, twisted easily to the left. Lilian slipped into the room and locked the door behind her. She considered trying to move the shelving unit in front of it to prevent anyone coming in, but thought better of it when she realised that she may need to make a speedy getaway. With a sigh of relief, she came out of gloaming and let herself rest. If anyone came down the corridor to check on the coffers, she would be able to hear them and she had a few spare hairs of Fritha’s in her pocket for when she would need to become invisible again. For now, it was better to conserve her energy. She didn’t know how long Katrina’s liquid would take to eat away at the iron walls of the safe.

Pulling the vial out from her sleeve (another habit she seemed to be picking up from Mr Attorcop) she inspected the safe. It was nearly as tall as she was and was sitting, squatly in the corner of the room like a large and very stubborn child. It was made of black metal and had painted curling details on the corners in faded gold. On the front were the names of the safemakers in large and slightly chipped lettering,

Messrs Gripe and Falcon

Combination Safes

No. 000324

Below the text was the large, black spinning dial. It was encircled by a hundred little notches all individually painted in painstaking detail. Lilian couldn’t resist giving it a spin. It sped around quickly, clicking all the way as the tiny teeth inside tried to find purchase on the locking mechanism. Lilian had heard of expert thieves who could crack open a safe just like this just by listening closely to how each little click differed from each other. But she had no time to pick up such skills, hers was a more destructive form of thievery.

Lilian unscrewed the top of the vial and carefully tipped the liquid over the top edge, letting it slither down the side of the safe. She held her breath as she worked, not wanting to inhale any dangerous fumes. Katrina’s strange liquid was thick and dark green. Lilian knew that just a few drops would probably do, but she did not want to have to repeat the process again and so emptied out half the vial. At first, nothing happened and panicked thoughts of betrayal rushed through Lilian’s mind, quickening her already stressed out heart. But after a few more seconds the green ooze began to bubble and hiss. Lilian glanced back at the door hoping the noise wouldn’t attract anyone passing through the corridor. She accessed her gloaming powered hearing once more and tried to listen over the din of hissing and gurgling coming from the safe for any Weardian officers outside. Thankfully, there were none. A few mumbling words from the office at the end of the corridor, but no oncoming footfalls from the staircase. She turned back to check on the safe and was amazed at the progress. In a matter of seconds, the liquid had thinned out a large section of the thick metal wall so that it was nearly as thin as parchment. There was still some of the acidic mixture left, bubbling and eating away at the metal like it was boiling water poured on a sheet of ice. Lilian stepped closer and could already see the glint of gold through tiny holes in the safe wall. Those holes grew bigger and then bigger still until Lilian could comfortably fit her hand right through the wall of the safe. She waited ofcourse until all the liquid was dissolved and used up, but as soon as it was safe she reached in and grabbed a fistful of the safe’s precious contents. Pulling out her hand slowly so as to not catch it on the now jagged metal, Lilian marvelled at her spoils. With just one hand she managed to grab nine golden crowns, and four silver bits. The reflecting glow of the gold lit up the dark corner of the room and Lilian let out a slow breath. This was more money than she would make in a year working for Mr Twitchett, and this was just the first handful!

With a jolt, she snapped out of the daydream of bringing this money back to Benlunar and began filling the hessian shoulder bag she’d brought with her. A small fear began to creep into her head as she moved the coins from the safe to the bag. Each handful that landed in the sack did so with more noise than the last. Would she be able to sneak past everyone downstairs again with this clattering racket strapped over her shoulder? Pushing that fear to the side for the moment she leaned into the safe until her shoulder touched the broken wall. She swept her hand across both shelves, checking that every last coin was gone. Her fingers fell on a stray crown which she picked up and pulled out so that it could join its brothers in her bag. Before she put it away though, Lilian could not help looking at the etched outline of the Empress’s profile on the side of the coin. Even though the job was not over yet, she permitted herself a gloating smile. Sorry I could not keep our appointment your majesty, she thought to herself, I was too busy stealing your money.

Just then she heard a sound that made her stomach lurch. Someone outside in the hallway, just a few feet from the safe room door, coughed loudly as they cleared their throat. Lilian hadn’t heard them come up the stairs, perhaps they had just left the office at the end of the corridor and she had been too distracted to notice? Either way it didn’t matter, because the sound was so loud and surprising it caused her to flinch and drop the coin she was holding. As it hit the ground it made Lilian wince. She knew that to anyone else it would have sounded like a light ringing, but with her heightened hearing she experienced it as a deafening high-pitched reverberation. She brought her hands up quickly to her ears while she recalibrated her senses.

“Who’s there?” A low voice came from beyond the door. Lilian’s eyes widened in shock. Bending down quickly she picked up the coin and shoved it into her bag. Her stomach dropped as she heard the distinct rattling of keys. She glanced around for somewhere to hide but the room was too small. She was panicking so much she nearly forgot that she didn’t need a hiding spot, she could cloak herself from sight. Quick as a flash she reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out one of Fritha’s hairs from the bunch she had stored there. With the sound of feet getting closer to the door, she did the first thing that came to mind and popped the hair into her mouth, and threw her body as silently as she could at the space behind the door. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She could feel the hair distinctly between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. With a calming breath she let its essence flow into her body and combine with her gloaming. Had she tried this three months ago it would have taken her the better part of half an hour, but thankfully with all the practise she had been doing recently, it worked in a matter of seconds. Having the hair in her mouth seemed to help for some reason. She supposed that made sense, after all, that was how the body traditionally absorbed things. She knew she had to keep calm and breathe as deeply and normally as possible but when the keys rattled in the lock and clicked the door open she couldn’t help but hold her breath as the handle turned and a man walked into the room.

He was old, not quite as old as Mr Attorcop, but older than most of the officers downstairs. His hair was grey and he had a very impressive mustache which had been waxed at the ends into curling tips. Lilian caught a glimpse of some shining badges on his uniform so she assumed he must be some sort of Captain. He entered the room cautiously and looked around. Lilian’s heart lurched when he turned around to glance behind the door but her skin and clothes had shifted just in time for him to think he was looking at an empty space. It helped a great deal that the light was low in this room and that she was in a particularly dark corner. Gloaming invisibility was incredible, but did not stand up well against strong scrutiny. Thankfully the man’s gaze did not linger on her but instead shot swiftly to the ceiling and then back around to the shelving unit on the opposite side of the room. Lilian saw his bushy eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. Suddenly, he saw the safe and he froze for a second before approaching it.

“What the blazes…” she heard him whisper as he approached. His movements quickened when he realised what he was looking at. He rushed over to the safe and bent down to have a look through the hole in its side. When he saw that its contents had been emptied he shouted a very loud and very rude word. Lilian saw the panic in his eyes as he turned around sharply and rushed out of the open doorway. She let out a long breath as she heard his footsteps clattering down the staircase. She was equally thankful to have evaded detection and nervous about what the captain was about to do.

Quickly collecting her thoughts she took steps to avoid panicking. If she let nerves or chaos cloud her judgement, she would not get out of here in one piece. She shut her eyes for just a second, took in a deep, calming breath… and let it out. She relaxed her shoulders and tilted her head from side to side, stretching her neck. When she opened her eyes, the plan was clear in her head.

Checking on her energy reserves, Lilian guessed she would have just enough time to get to Mr Attorcop before she started to black out from exhaustion. She had barely moved three hundred feet since entering the building, but her body was already feeling like it had run several miles. She exited the little room, pressing the bag against her body so as to limit the jangling sound it made every time she moved. As she stepped back into the corridor she could hear shouts and heavy steps coming from down below. The alarm had been raised. Every weardian in the building would be on high alert for the next several hours. Lilian’s heart dropped at first but then she wondered if the chaos caused by her theft might work to her advantage. If everyone was rushing around like headless chickens, they might not notice a little invisible girl slip by. She took a few steps towards the staircase, glancing down at her free hand just to make sure she was still hidden. It was still a strange sensation to look down at where her hand should be, only to see straight through to the floor. Lilian was nearly at the top step when she heard the footfall of heavy boots heading up in her direction. This corridor was too open to be an effective hiding place, even with Fritha’s camouflage. Lilian turned around and ran back down the corridor. There wasn’t enough time to find the right keys for these other doors so she headed back to the room she’d just come from.

No you fool, she thought to herself, that’s probably where they’re all heading. She glanced around desperately for another way out, a hiding place, a window or… an open door. There, at the end of the corridor, the large double doors were slightly ajar, a slither of light escaped from where they met in the middle. It hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. She ran at top speed, keeping the coins from rattling as best she could.

As she hit the door she allowed her momentum to carry her through it. She’d been right about it being unlocked but she barely had time to glance around what looked like a lavish office before closing it behind her, turning around and peering through the gap. Four men in weardian coats moved into view at the other end of the corridor half a second later. They moved quickly and with purpose. However, instead of heading to the safe room, like Lilian had thought they would, they headed to the first door on the right. Lilian remembered this room to house several cupboards and storage units some of which were protected by locked, metal grates. Lilian heard the sound of keys jangling and watched as the men piled into the room as soon as the door was open. The one at the end of the line lingered a little, he looked younger than the rest, his expression was different, less intense. Nervous perhaps, Lilian thought. He barely had time to collect himself and enter before the first man was back out again, handing him something. Lilian strained to listen.

“Remember, only if you need it.” Lilian saw the young officer nod his head, his eyes looked wary. She strained her neck to see if she could catch what had just been handed to him, but the other officer was blocking it from her view. A weapon perhaps?

“First time?” The older man said.

“Yeah.” The young officer’s face was pale.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it. Only if you need it, though, understood?” More nervous nods.

“Let’s go.” With that, they rushed back downstairs and Lilian breathed out a sigh of relief. She knew she had to follow them in a moment, but for now, she was alone.

She looked back at the office behind her. It’s walls were panelled with dark polished wood, with pictures of serious looking men in uniform hanging on all sides. A pink and cream floral carpet covered the floor. It was bigger than Lilian’s bedroom, with perfectly combed tassels at either end. The centre of the room was dominated by a desk, tall and dark, its surface polished to a mirror shine. There were various ink wells, feather quills and candelabras arranged neatly along the edge nearest the door. The object that drew the eye the most however was a large vase made of cut crystal with a beautiful bouquet of lavender and white roses inside of it. A red leather chair, faded in places from years of wear, stood behind the desk proudly, framed on either side by two large and overstocked bookcases. Lilian gulped. One look around this room told her she would probably be treated with more leniency if she were to be caught physically robbing the safe, than merely stepping foot in this opulent office. Her curious heart was desperate to explore, but she had a job to do and the next step involved going all the way back through this building, and rescuing Mr Attorcop. She turned back to the double doors, but stopped before her body was fully facing the exit. Her eyes had fallen on one of the windows and a thought crept into her racing mind. Did she really need to creep all the way down the stairs, back through the room filled with desks and panicking weardian officers? Or could she simply reach the ground level by climbing down the outside of the building? She tiptoed over to the window to check exactly how high they were from street level.

Three weardian officers, suited in leather armour and carrying swords, rushed out from the main entrance to the building and dashed down the road towards Old Town. Lilian’s breath fogged up the glass as she studied the scene. The office was not as high up as she’d thought, she’d certainly climbed higher buildings during her time in Freedos. The officers below seemed so preoccupied with chasing an imaginary thief they probably would not think to look back and up at their own building. All this combined with the fact that she was still invisible, was enough to convince Lilian.

She reached up and flicked the latch open. A breeze drifted into the room as she opened the windows. The day had cooled down significantly now that evening was approaching and Lilian took a deep and calming breath of the fresh city air. She gripped the stone edge of the window sill and was about to hoist herself up and over, when there was a knock at the door.

“Sir?” There was a voice, coming from the otherside. Lilian had missed their approach down the corridor and now there was someone knocking to come in. With no time to waste, Lilian lifted herself up and began to swing her leg out and over the window sill. Her ears just caught the squeak of a door’s hinges before she heard a man’s voice cursing.

“Twelve Hells, hey!!” Lilian held her breath as she swung her other leg out and turned to lower herself down the walls. She would have preferred a more graceful escape but she had clearly been spotted and so a frantic scramble would have to make do. She’d found a foothold in the wall below her and was close to starting her descent when she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder.

As her body was lifted up and back into the room she wondered at how she had been spotted. Doubtless the man had come in, seen that the window was open and spotted her moving form trying to escape. As she sailed into the air she cursed her inability to achieve perfect invisibility. She’d come far, but it hadn’t been quite enough. A jolt of pain shot through her arm as she landed unceremoniously on the carpeted floor. A few soft thumping sounds accompanied her crash as some coins escaped her bag. She didn’t have time to count how many, for her attention was drawn immediately to her aggressor. She looked up from the floor to see a young man, the same young man in fact that she had seen moments ago accepting the weapon, or whatever it was, from his superior. Despite his age, he was strong and had been able to hoist Lilian up and through the window before throwing her to the floor. His boyish face was a picture of horror and confusion. Lilian realised that she hadn’t quite come out of gloaming so she must have looked like a strange, amorphous shape that occasionally leaked gold coins.

She stood up quickly and his eyes followed her. His baffled look turned to fear as Lilian got to her feet. He tried to speak but could only utter staccatoed parts of words.

“Wha… you… you…” Lilian cursed. She would have taken a seasoned, grizzled fighter over a scared young man any day. Experience is calming, fear is unpredictable and violent. She breathed out a low breath and removed the camouflage effect from her skin and clothes. She was thankful not to have to keep it up any longer. Taking it away gave her body a boost of energy and she was able to focus completely on the task at hand.

“It’s okay,” she said, as calmly and gently as she could, “I’m not going to hurt you I just need to leave, you can tell your boss I overpowered you. No one needs to get hurt…” The young officer shifted in his large green coat, the sleeves of which extended a little too far beyond his wrists. His face had gone from fearful to furtive. Lilian noticed his eyes twitch towards the door. She moved slowly to the right so that they were at an impasse. He blocked her way to the window, she blocked his exit to the door. Lilian looked back at him, her vision, still slightly heightened by gloaming. She noticed him take in a breath and shift his chin upwards. He was about to shout.

“Don’t call out.” Lilian spoke again, more sternly this time. She needed to control the situation and wasn’t above making a few threats. She took a step closer to the man.

“You’re the one who stole our gold.” He said, his voice cracking with nerves. Lilian saw no sense in denying it.

“I am. But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is everyone staying safe and calm. You can rush downstairs and alert the rest if you like, I won’t stop you, but I do need to get out of that win…” The officer interrupted her.

“No. I’ll… I’ll stop you.” Lilian was getting frustrated. This wasn’t the time for pointless heroics. Her eyes fell on a glass paperweight on the desk, three swift moves and she could knock him out. He must have guessed her thoughts because he moved a shaking hand round to the back of his belt and reached for something hanging there.

Lilian watched with horror as his hand emerged clutching a large, glass cylinder. It was capped at the top and bottom with intricate silver and was about the size of a Lilian’s forearm. Her eyes widened in horror when she caught a glimpse of the dark, purple liquid sloshing around inside of it. The young officer was looking at it with trepidation.

“I’ll stop you…” he muttered to himself. Lilian was frozen in place. If he drank that… her thoughts were interrupted by the young officer moving his free hand up to the bottle. The atmosphere in the room suddenly got very close. Lilian took another step and put up her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture.

“Woah easy there… I don’t want you to hurt yourself. That’s very dangerous stuff.” He glanced up at her one last time, his eyes red and stinging with fearful tears. All he could do was repeat the mantra that had brought him to this point.

“I’ll stop you…” Quick as a flash he unscrewed the top of the canister.

“No wait!” Lilian shouted in a last ditch attempt to stop him. The blood rushed out of her head and she felt a bead of cold sweat run down her cheek as she watched the young officer bring the container of Nightshade to his lips, tip it up, and drink the entire amount.

Episode 41

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The first thing Lilian did the next day was to test her weight on her wounded leg. Lowering slowly over her bedside she prayed to the Padda Stone that it wouldn’t hinder her movement too much. Thankfully, Telson had only intended to send her a warning and the cut was nothing more than a deep scratch just below her right knee. She put her foot on the floor and when she felt no great pain she stood up carefully from her bed. Shifting her weight from side to side Lilian breathed a sigh of relief. She cleaned the cut with salt water and wrapped a bandage that she had boiled the night before around her leg. As she tied the knot her mind went back to the fight the night before. This wasn’t the first time she had replayed the event over in her mind, in fact, she’d thought of little else since the door closed behind Telson on his way out. Should she have shoved him, instead of kicked? No, shoving is too obvious, he would have dodged it easily. What about a sweep? Telson must use a cane for a reason, perhaps his legs were his weak spot? But no matter how many different moves she played out in her mind, Telson always came out on top. For a second she even found herself thanking him in her head for choosing to only give her a flesh wound, he was a skilled enough swordsmen to have caused a deeper cut if he had wanted or, gods forbid, he could have aimed a few inches higher and slashed the artery in her leg. Lilian shuddered at the thought.

Fritha looked up, blinked sleepily and then stretched her front legs out in front of her. Her coat cycled quickly through lime greens, patchy blues and ended on a deep golden yellow. The sun was only just rising over the horizon, its orange light creeping past chimney tops and in through the curtains like a cat returning home from its night time prowling. Lilian’s little room began to brighten as she stood up confidently and performed a few simple stretches, readying her body for the efforts of the day. As she breathed in deeply and felt the aches and kinks disappear she affirmed two things clearly in her mind. One was that today she was about to rob the most dangerous men and women in the city and two, she was definitely not going anywhere near the palace. This probably meant that she would have to move out of her little room as Telson would undoubtedly return here to look for her once she missed her appointment with the Empress.

One of the benefits of only recently arriving somewhere is that it does not take long to pack up all your worldly possessions. She had collected a few more things than when she had arrived so had to use an extra string bag, but within half an hour Lilian’s life was packed away and ready to be transported to Mr Twitchett’s basement. She penned a quick note to her landlady explaining that she had been called back home on emergency family matters. She thanked her and left her an extra month’s rent. If today went well, she wouldn’t be wanting for coin any time soon. Lilian felt a small pang of sadness as she shut the door behind her, locked it and slid the key under it. Fritha twisted her head in confusion.

“No home,” she explained, as if the animal could understand. Fritha’s tail began to wag, going out into Freedos was her favourite thing and Lilian decided to treat her to a walk around Jekyll Park before going to see Mr Attorcop.

The early morning air was fresh and smelled of baking bread. Fritha’s nose twitched skywards as they walked down Vulpes road and onto the main Freedos thoroughfares. They stopped at a bakery for some breakfast and Lilian reminded herself to enjoy the morning warmth and the fresh air, as fresh as city air could ever be. Winter was coming and from what she’d heard, the city was a grim place during the cold season. Any snow that fell would quickly turn to slush and the inns would be packed with heat seeking crowds. They turned a corner and saw the park gates up ahead. Fritha rushed forward and excitedly jumped up and down knowing that she would imminently be allowed to run around and chase squirrels, rats or any dogs that might be being walked. As soon as they walked through the gate and she felt grass under foot the giant beast bolted forwards like a loosed arrow. She headed straight for the pond, as Lilian knew she would. Her favourite thing was to drink from the cool, calm water and then look at the big fish. The surface was covered in brown leaves from the surrounding trees so she could only catch glimpses of swishing fishy tails and gaping round mouths. A breeze picked up and sent the leaves floating across the surface like a fleet of little boats. Lilian had come down the small slope to join her friend. Fritha’s tail picked up and wagged each time she caught a glimpse of something beneath the water. If Lilian hadn’t fed her that morning, she would probably be jumping in to grab one, her coat even shimmered into an approximation of the grassy bank she was standing on.

“That’s quite impressive.” A woman’s voice spoke beside her. The leaves breezed away to reveal her reflection on the water’s glassy surface. Lilian had sensed her approach and so had not bothered to turn around. If she’d wanted to harm her, she would not do it out in the open.

“Hello Bried.” Lilian tried to keep the tired sigh out of her tone. This was the last thing she wanted today. But then, she thought, Tazial Bried was probably an expert in being the last person anyone wanted to see.

“Hayseed…” she replied, her voice cool as the breeze that brushed the trees.

“What do you want?” Fritha had lost interest in the fish and, sensing no fear, decided to explore the possibility of finding a squirrel.

“So hostile… it’s okay. I come in peace.” Lilian had nothing to say to the woman who’s associate had nearly broken William’s back. “Actually, I’ve come with some advice.” Lilian tutted.

“Let me guess, it’s going to cost me.”

“No no, this comes free of charge. Call it an act of… charity.” The word hit Lilian’s ear strangely, as if Bried had never said it before or it just felt alien to hear her talk of goodness.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care,” Bried was quick to reply, “but here it is.” She paused for a second. Lilian looked up at her. Her face was deep in thought, her eyes staring at the pond with all its hidden depths. It seemed as though she was struggling to find the right words, perhaps she really was about to do something nice. “Don’t do... what you’re about to do.” Lilian waited for something else. Nothing came.

“How do you…”

“I told you Hayseed, knowledge is my job, and I’m the best in the business. I know what you’re planning and I’ve come to say… just… don’t. Ok?” Lilian was impressed.

“Is the great and dangerous Tazial Bried actually showing compassion to another human?” Bried snorted.

“Don’t get used to it. As I said, consider it an act of charity. And you can joke as much as you like but I’m being serious. Do not do what you’re planning to do today. There are other ways to get the palace off your back.” Lilian shook her head.

“Maybe if you have the time.” Both women turned their attention to a dragonfly that had hovered into view. It landed on a leaf and seemed to be busy cleaning or eating something. A small ripple followed by a flash of scales and plopping sound and the insect was gone. Grabbed and pulled under the water by a hungry dark mouth.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lilian looked back at the mysterious woman, who shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Ever since you came sniffing around my house asking questions about brooches things have been… interesting. You’re so… little and annoying. And you’ve got that silly animal and…” She trailed off not wanting to say anything that might sound like a compliment. Lilian felt oddly appreciated, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Wanting someone to hate you still counted as being wanted, no? Lilian smiled.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you. But it’s all planned. If you’re that worried, you’re welcome to help. But otherwise, I recommend you stay clear.” Now it was Bried’s turn to smile.

“If you ever drop your moral compass you might consider a career in crime. You’ve got the ego and with what you’re about to do, you’re halfway there.” Lilian scouled. She hated being compared to someone like Bried. The career criminal sighed. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t warn you. Good luck Hayseed.” Bried’s reflection disappeared from the surface of the pond. The last thing Lilian had seen was a glimpse of the black bird she had etched in ink at the top of her chest, only just visible through the open buttons of her cotton shirt. She turned and caught Bried’s attention before she was too far up the small slope.

“Bried?” Bried stopped, turned back and waited for the question, “Where did you get that done?” Lilian gestured to the bird and then to her own chest for clarity. Bried raised an eyebrow and smiled. Her shaven head and freckled face always looked so friendly when she smiled, but Lilian knew enough by now to know that this was just a mask that covered a dark heart.

“Only one place to get a decent tattoo, and that’s Zandt.” And with that, she walked away. A small idea had formed in the back of Lilian’s mind, but the sun was rising quickly and she had other, more dangerous matters to prepare for.

Cromwell Attorcop was not alone in his basement lodgings. Katrina Sturgeon, her red hair and glamorous gown shining like torches in the dim light, was with him. As Lilian shut the trapdoor behind her, she saw them look up from a clandestine conversation.

“Hello Lily love!” Katrina smiled broadly, Lilian returned the grin and began schlepping her bags down the rickety steps.

“What’s all this?” enquired Mr Attorcop. Lilian told them about her visit from Telson the night before and how her little room was probably not the best place for her to be staying at the moment.

“Well then you stay with me my dear.” Katrina offered quickly, too quickly for Lilian to protest. She looked at Mr Attorcop.

“That’s very generous Katrina but…” he started to say but she cut him off.

“I won’t hear another word about it. Come to the rare flower market tonight and we’ll set you up with a bed. Not for weeks and weeks you understand but it will do for now.” Lilian smiled. She felt very lucky to have such fine friends. Katrina shot her a quick wink and moved the conversation to other matters.

“Come and have a look at this.” She held up a small green bottle and beckoned Lilian over. Fritha padded round to Mr Attorcop’s bed that was set up in the far corner of the room and before he could say anything, she had hopped up onto the mattress and was making herself comfortable. Mr Attorcop muttered something about muddy paws under his breath but Lilian ignored him.

“What is it?”

“This is the closest I get to magic. Very rare, very dangerous. Just one drop and you’ll have a hole the size of your fist in any material it touches.” Mr Attorcop held up a piece of scrap metal they had presumably used to test the liquid. Just as Katrina had said, right there in the middle was a perfectly round hole. Mr Attorcop held it up to his face so that Lilian could see his eye through it.

“How long…” she asked,

“Two minutes. We timed it,” said Mr Attorcop. Lilian took the piece off him and ran her fingers over the edges of the hole. It was perfectly smooth, as if it had been filed down for hours. Suddenly, Lilian understood the significance.

“This is how we get into the Weardian coffers…” Katrina smiled.

“Not just a pretty face.” Lilian wasn’t sure if she was talking about her or herself. Katrina’s smile suddenly dropped and she became serious.

“This stuff takes a long time to make and it’s very expensive.”

“We understand Katrina, you will be more than fairly compensated for your contribution.” Katrina’s smile returned. “Just like old times.” Mr Attorcop laughed,

“Should I get Zadoch in here?”

“No I don’t think that’s necessary.” They both laughed at the inside joke. The laughter then slowly faded as the seriousness of the situation dawned on them all. There was a pause and then Mr Attorcop said the words that Lilian had been half dreading to hear.

“Well then, I suppose we should plan this robbery.”

Four hours later the plan was in place and the sun was beginning to set. Everyone had eaten a few pieces of bread with some cheese and dried meats followed by an apple. They were going to need all the energy they could muster. For the final hour they sat in silence. Katrina bade them good luck and goodbye and left them to sit. Lilian had her eyes closed and her mind empty. She let the sounds and smells of the present moment wash over her, without fear, without judgement. Mr Attorcop did the same, emptying his mind of worry and gathering the energy he would need. It would have been easier if the moon had been out, but a little extra time in silent meditation could compensate for that. They were down to their last drops of essence so he could not rely on the mysterious liquid as much as he would have liked. This would be like the missions in his youth, before he’d mastered the finding and bottling of the lunar liquid. Lilian had never used essence but she made sure to sit close to Fritha, she would be relying on her powers of concealment heavily in the upcoming hours.

Eighth bell chimed in the distance, the guard shift would change in an hour, another useful tip from Kissandra. Mr Attorcop opened his eyes. Lilian’s were already wide and alert. Her hair seemed to flicker between its normal red and the dull green of the blanket beside her. And her eyes, they were darker somehow. The whites were becoming dark grey and pupils were, what, yellow perhaps? It was hard to tell from this distance. Whatever the colours, she no longer looked like the little redheaded girl he’d met on the mountain. She was a Nocta, she was gloaming, she was peace and she was power. He knew her hearing would be heightened, so he only needed to whisper.

“You’re ready.”

Fritha gave them a concerned look from the bottom of the stairs as they shut the trapdoor behind them. Lilian was worried about whether Mr Attorcop would be spotted on the way to the Weardian headquarters, but she knew that the plan would not work without both of them present at once. She touched the strands of Fritha’s fur she had put in her pocket and double checked that Kissandra’s knife was still firmly tied to her back and that the handle was in easy reach over her shoulder. She kept checking these things all the way down the street as well as occasionally tapping on the pocket that contained Katrina’s melting potion. Fur, blade, potion, fur blade potion. Her hands went from one to the other again and again, as if not making sure they were there meant that they would suddenly disappear as most valuable things had a habit of doing on the busy streets of Freedos. At one point she saw Mr Attorcop touch his sleeve and knew that he was doing the same with the last bottle of lunar essence. It was more useful in his hands than hers, but she knew that he would only be able to use it in an emergency. Suddenly, she stuck her arm out in front of him. The sound of footsteps and laughter was coming from round a corner. They hugged the wall and waited for the small crowd to go past. It would not be the last group they would encounter on their way to Laga quarter. Most were just as easily avoided but one or two took a little while longer to get around, a smoking landlord outside his public house, a woman hanging washing on a line both needed riskier approaches. Thankfully, no one seemed to recognise Mr Attorcop by his description on the posters or notice that Lilian looked a little strange. Lilian found herself praying for nightfall more than once along the journey. After just under an hour, they were in Laga quarter and the Weardian garrison building loomed low in the distance.

Kissandra had described the building accurately. From this distance, a little way down the main boulevard, it could have easily been another bank or government office. The only thing distinguishing this building from those around it, were the two Weardian officers in green coats stationed outside the large double doors. They had timed their arrival well, as just as they came into view, two other officers emerged from the doors and greeted the guards. This was only one of two times in the day that there would be four Weardian guards here. Lilian eyed them carefully. They were all very tall and wore the distinctive long green coats and iron buckled, dark blue uniforms. They smiled and joked as they greeted their colleagues. They all had short hair and big black boots.

Lilian and Mr Attorcop said nothing as they approached. Dusk was settling over the wide road. The sandstone buildings on either side, recently orange from the sunset, were now turning blue grey. As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, its light faded and Lilian faded with it. By the time they reached the front of the Weardian building, she was gone. Melted away from sight like sugar in tea. Mr Attorcop heard her footsteps break away from his. He glanced at the four Weardian officers and readied himself. He had been conserving his energy all the way over from when he’d gathered it in the basement. The silence had helped. He wished he could have waited just a couple more hours until the moon was high in the sky, but it was now or never.

It had been a long time since Cromwell Attorcop had practiced gloaming without the use of lunar essence. A part of him had been worried he might not be able to achieve anything, but old habits die hard and as he felt the surge of energy rising in his chest from his stomach, he knew he hadn’t quite lost the gift. He had never managed to turn invisible without essence, but that did not matter. In fact, right now he needed to achieve the exact opposite. Mr Attorcop’s role in the robbery was that of decoy so he conjured up the brightest, loudest and most violent effects he could think of. Out from the depths of his concentration, up through his chest, down his arms and into his fidgeting fingers. The men had noticed his approach now, one might have even been calling out to him, asking him his name and business. Mr Attorcop couldn’t hear him over the thumping of blood and puissance in his ears. He was so used to the quick and immediate power granted to him by lunar essence, he’d forgotten the benefits of building up a lot of power over a long time.

The Weardian were reaching for their swords now. Mr Attorcop glanced at the belts of the two senior officers. They could be distinguished from their subordinates by the small stripes on their chests and, more importantly, by the large ring of keys on their belts. They were all approaching him now, swords drawn, their points leveled at his chest. One of the younger officers crossed in front of his superior, making to flank Mr Attorcop. In the brief second it took for him to pass in front, the ring of keys had been lifted. Mr Attorcop permitted himself a small smile, Lilian had succeeded in her first task, now it was up to him.

“I said, get on your knees and put your hands behind your back.” The officer’s face was red with anger. He’d recognised Mr Attorcop from across the street and was wishing in his heart that this old man would give him an excuse to use his sword.

“No,” said Mr Attorcop calmly, “No I don’t think I will.”

With that he brought his arms up and out in front of him, his palms down and fingers spread wide. His dark cloak, which he had been focusing a lot of his thoughts and energy on during his preparation, flew up and out with the movement. The material had shifted and changed in the past hour, although it still looked and felt like high quality, woven cotton, it was also now imbued with Mr Attorcop’s own brand of gloaming. It was a living, moving darkness that extended out in front of him like octopus tendrils. One arm of the cloak wrapped itself around an officer’s neck, forcing him to drop his sword and claw at the cloth for air. Another whipped out to the left and attached itself to the flanking officer’s ankle. Mr Attorcop jerked his left hand up and back, causing the man to lose his footing and be momentarily yanked forward. The remaining officer’s eyes widened in shock and horror. But these were trained soldiers, familiar with all manner of fighting styles. Their shock only lasted a few seconds then and before Mr Attorcop could react, they were baring their swords down on him. The one on Mr Attorcop’s right side had revenge on his mind and murder in his eyes. He drew his weapon back with intent to kill and had Lilian not been behind him to pull on his belt, he may have just landed a deadly strike. Thankfully, Lilian’s role was not limited to lifting keys and so the man was pulled back and down, landing unceremoniously on his backside with a thud. His face contorted in pain and Mr Attorcop realised that he must have bitten his tongue on impact. With him down for a second though, it left the one remaining attacker. Mr Attorcop waited until the last second before the sword came slashing down to fall into the folds of his cloak. Mr Attorcop allowed the magically imbued material to envelope him, move him down and round and bring him back up in the officer’s blind spot. He managed to get a kick in before having to turn back to face the Weardian who had been struggling with the cloak at his throat. He’d managed to pry the material away and was now moving in closer to try to punch or grapple Mr Attorcop.

Just a little longer. He thought as he dodged and batted away the oncoming hits. These men had the advantage in numbers, but Cromwell Attorcop had experience and gloaming on his side. He ducked under a left hook and at the same time yanked the last Weardian, the one who had the cloak around his ankle, back down to the floor. Now there were three of them on him. The black material came up like a shield and wrapped around an incoming punch, then it flicked out like a whip, narrowly missing an eye but causing a bright red line to appear across a cheek.

“Just grab him you useless fools.” The largest Weardian, who Mr Attorcop guessed was the most senior ranked, barked orders at his men, but they were just for show. The captain knew that his men were trying their best, because he was trying just as hard. Cromwell Attorcop fell and rose around them like liquid shadow. His cloak was attacking and defending all at once and any attempt the men made to try and ‘grab him’ was met with arms wrapped around empty air. There were muffled screams as the dark material pulled back heads and the sound of scraping boots as their owners were whisked backwards and off their feet.

After about three minutes of this Mr Attorcop decided that his ruse had been successful and that the fight had gone on long enough. He gently decreased his attacks and allowed two of the officers to get closer. Not too close of course. He braced himself for a punch to the chest that he could have easily blocked, but time was ticking and the plan had to move on to its second phase. Mr Attorcop made a show of stumbling back, allowing the captain to rush forward and put him in an arm lock. Mr Attorcop had successfully disarmed all of them by now so he didn’t fear any lethal retribution. The captain twisted his arm behind his back a little more forcefully than he would have liked, but this was to be expected. Mr Attorcop had humiliated four highly trained officers, they would need to let off some aggression.

“It’s definitely him,” one of them spat, “I seen his face before, and that…” he gestured towards Attorcop’s cloak and then all around him as if replicating its strange movements, “that was definitely sorcery.” The captain leant forward, bringing his mouth right beside Mr Attorcop’s ear.

“Not content with blowing us up, you came to finish the job didn’t ya? Sorcerer scum.” Suddenly, Mr Attorcop was moving, frog-marched forwards towards the main door. He could hear the keys jangling on the captain’s belt and thanked the gods everything was so far, going to plan. He could live with a few bruises and a sprained elbow. He was already feeling the effects of the gloaming as he grew more tired with every step. Another advantage of lunar essence is that it doesn’t force the user to burn their own energy supply. He would sleep well tonight, he thought.

The officers moved him down corridors packed with gawking guards and curious officials. Despite it being early evening, the building was still packed with people. The four officers from outside paraded Mr Attorcop around like a prize fish, stopping to tell anyone who looked important that it was them who finally brought in the crazed and dangerous sorcerer. There would be commendations, ceremonies and tall mugs of ale no doubt. Mr Attorcop didn’t care. Before turning the corner that lead to the dungeon steps he managed to glance back. All eyes were on him, just as they had planned. No one would see the shimmering shape of a small girl slipping past a couple of guards, they might not have seen it even if they had been on the lookout, such was Lilian’s skill with Fritha’s gift. But Cromwell Attorcop knew how to spot her and the last thing he saw before the damp wall of the dungeon staircase obstructed his view was a blurred shape staying low and sneaking up the main staircase. Mr Attorcop smiled. They were in.

Episode 40

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

“I don’t know much about him. My… friend said she’s only met him a handful of times. He was there on the balcony when I met the Empress though, and I’m fairly certain he was the one who delivered my invitation for the ball. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we cannot afford to underestimate him.” Lilian studied the faces of her audience. Mr Attorcop looked deep in thought, his mind cast back into a past he thought long gone. Kissandra, the blade for hire who was here on Mr Attorcop’s invitation, looked more confused than pensive. She shook her head.

“The name is not familiar. But I agree with you, anyone capable of embedding themselves so highly within the Empress’ court cannot be trusted, especially if they’re not of noble birth. And seeing as I don’t recognise the name…” She trailed off, letting her experience speak for itself. Lilian looked over at her friend and mentor, his face was a map of past pains and newly opened scars.

“I know the name.” he spoke softly, as if Telson himself were within earshot, “but I have never met the man. You’re both correct of course, he seems to be the ‘mastermind’ behind this Guiding Hand business so to speak. A man who puts his faith in symbols and secrecy does so because he has no confidence in himself, his family or his friends. No doubt he has convinced himself that those who follow the Guiding Hand are doing some great service to the world, but they’re just the same…” Mr Attorcop’s tone took on a dark, rasping quality. These were old grudges and Lilian and Kissandra both sensed the shadows of his past creeping into the basement like unwelcome guests. His gaze fixed itself into the middle distance, not really looking at anything but seeing a million images all at once.

“Follow me, they say, trust the eye, the fist, the sword, the hand. This book, passage or poem will bring you peace. But beware they say, there will come those who doubt us and they are the enemy now. Trust none but those who wear the symbol. I’ve met these men. And while this one might be better connected than most, they’re all the same. Cult leader, holyman, wise whisperer, truth speaker I’ve met them all. They want all the trappings of power but none of the responsibility of fairness and equality. The Empress is just the same and though she’ll spin some sob story she will undoubtedly tip her head willingly as he pours poison in her ear.” He turned his sharp and focused eyes to Lilian and froze her with a chilling look. “I’m getting a better idea of who he is every day and judging by last night’s events and everything that has happened my theory is as follows. They have something on me, that much is certain. Some old grudge or fear perhaps. That is why Kissandra was sent to Benlunar, to make sure I did not return to put a spanner in their works. But not only did I return, I came back with you and your fearsome four-legged friend. That changed things. Now they seek to separate us. Divide and conquer. They’ve forced me into hiding and soon you’ll have soldiers at your door asking you ever so politely to escort them to the palace so that the Empress can have her prize.” Out of nowhere Mr Attorcop moved at lightning quick speed, hitting out and striking the surface of the table to his right. The speed and sound made Lilian and Kissandra jump. “Well I won’t let them. As the moon is my witness I shall not roll over. They have done nothing but stir my ire and now I’m forced to retaliate. So. Are you with me, ladies? I remind you that I’m not like this man Telson, I do not threaten or force people to fight with or for me, but if my fight is the fight of the just, then I ask that you consider your parts.” Lilian did not need much convincing, she had been fighting this fight since she arrived in the city, she nodded emphatically.

“I’m in.” she spoke in a low and confident voice, remembering her new friend Genevive’s face and the way her voice cracked when she spoke of her situation. They looked to Kissandra, she was still leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed.

“I will go as far as my interests take me, but my allegiance is to my order first and foremost, not you.” Mr Attorcop shrugged.

“Good enough for me.” He looked as though he was about to get to work right there and then, jumping into a quick walk and heading for a cupboard in the corner. Kissandra interrupted his trajectory.

“It’s not just your fight Cromwell.” Mr Attorcop spun on his heel to look back at her. “To take on Telson is to take on the Empress, the seat of power in Freedos and indeed half of Alicium. I don’t know if you’ve visited Doma recently but when discontent starts to brew, Empress Sylvia has a habit of crushing it quickly and with extreme prejudice. And that’s many weeks march deep into the country, imagine how she will react when she senses revolution on her doorstep. Because that is what this is, hold no doubts in your hearts.” Kissandra turned her piercing green gaze to Lilian. “To take down the Weardian, oust Telson from his place of power and usurp the Empress? That’s revolution. Which means that even if you, if we, do succeed, there will be a power vacuum, the city will plunge into chaos, people… many people will get hurt. I know you’ve both considered this, I just want everyone to be clear of their role in the inevitable suffering that is to come about.” Kissandra did not break eye contact with Lilian the entire time she spoke. Lilian did not flinch. She pictured the faces of the starving children she had seen resort to pickpocketing and stealing when she had arrived in the city. She remembered what it felt like to be that desperate, that hungry and all the while knowing that nobles feasted until they felt sick. She thought about the fear she felt in her stomach every time she saw the flash of a dark green weardian coat, or the glint of a palace guard’s pike. People shouldn’t have to live like that, she thought, and so Lilian Lausanne didn’t flinch.

“You’re right to bring up the end of it.” Mr Attorcop settled a little, “I had considered it, but in truth, only briefly. We will need the people’s support, of course and I have a few ideas as to how to go about getting it. But when the dust has settled and the system needs new leaders…” He trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air. Kissandra looked over at him. A small smile appeared on his face, “Well, if whatever replaces the Empress and her system is better than what we have now then we leave it alone.”

“And if it’s worse?” asked Kissandra.

“Then we crush that too.”

A heavy silence followed Mr Attorcop’s proclamation. Lilian clenched her fist. The time for talking was drawing to an end. Kissandra nodded sagely and then let out a quick, sharp laugh.

“The day I left you alive on the side of that mountain, I was ashamed. I had failed my mission and I retreated honourably. I see now that my shame was a necessary price to pay. You’re both quite mad but if anything is going to succeed in taking down The Empress and her precious system then I think it would look very much like madness.” She paused for a second, remembering that fate-filled day. “The Weardian headquarters is in Laga Quarter. It’s unmarked but everyone knows which it is. Look for the only building on King’s Road with bars on the top windows. It’s made of the same brown limestone but don’t be fooled, the bricks were cut twice as thick and reinforced with iron rods. There’s no sense in attacking head on, you’d need an army. But there might be a way to disband The Weardian without killing them all, or even hurting them.” Kissandra stopped again, baiting her audience with a well timed silence.

“And that is?” Mr Attorcop, usually so patient, took the bait. Kissandra shot Lilian a cheeky wink.

“At the end of the day, they’re doing a job. They might enjoy beating people up for not carrying the correct market permits, but that’s by the by. Thankfully, the state is a little strapped for cash at this present moment. All of the Weardian wages are paid out at the end of the month from a coffer in the upper floors of that building. Now I happen to know that it hasn’t been filled in several weeks and isn’t set to be filled for several more.” Kissandra let her new co-conspirators fill in the blanks. Mr Attorcop looked at Lilian, his eyebrows raised in delighted surprise.

“So if we take the money…” Lillian had a go at completing the plan, “pretty soon they’ll be wondering how they’re going to get paid for beating up farmers.”

“And beggars,” said Mr Attorcop, “but yes. If that information is all correct…”

“Um, excuse me.” Kissandra interrupted, “My information is always correct.”

“It wasn’t about me.”

“Well no but that was differe… look it doesn’t matter, the information is good. But you’d need to act quickly.” Lilian nodded.

“The longer we wait the more the palace might be able to convince them to wait for payment,” she walked over to Mr Attorcop’s desk and picked up a spider shaped paperweight. A hundred scenarios were flashing through her head and she needed something to look at so that she could think through them clearly. She breathed in deeply and let out a long sigh. Setting the spider down she turned back to Kissandra and Mr Attorcop. “It’s risky. If we succeed we have to rely on the fact that they won’t work for free. I’ve only met a few Weardian but they all seem particularly… zealous. Are you sure they wouldn’t work just out of, I dunno, a sense of duty?” Kissandra smiled, shut her eyes and shook her head.

“No way. They are the Empress’s hammer. Hammers don’t get up and start hitting things of their own accord. I give it a week without pay and the whole place will fall like a house of cards.” She spoke with such confidence that Lilian almost believed her. She made a mental note to never play Kissandra at four ladies. Lilian looked over at Mr Attorcop. He had his hands together like he was praying, but Lilian knew enough about him to know that he never asked the gods for anything, Cromwell Attorcop made his own fate. He looked over at Lilian, bringing the tips of his fingers to his chin and looking unsure.

“It’s a risk,” he said. Lilian shrugged.

“Any plan involving taking down the Weardian is going to be risky. It’s true that we don’t want to hurt anyone if we can help it and going for the coffers would certainly avoid physical harm. I say…” Lilian paused and quickly went over every other possible approach in her head, just to be sure. “I say we go for it.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“Agreed. Although before we do anything, I would like to know one thing.” He glanced over at Kissandra. “How do you know about the coffers?” Kissandra replied slowly, picking her words carefully.

“I heard about it from a reliable source. There were plans to rob The Weardian, there was even a date set. But the job was cancelled at the last minute, too risky.” That didn’t fill Lilian with confidence but she reminded herself that not everyone shared her and Mr Attorcop’s particular set of skills. One risky job for a group of petty thieves might be a walk in the park for two people trained in Gloaming.

Kissandra clapped her hands and rubbed them together.

“Very well, I wish you both the best of luck. I shall return here in a few days for my cut of the profits.” She began to walk towards the wooden steps to leave the basement when a thought struck her and she turned back. “Unless of course you were to give me back my blade, in which case I could call it even here and now.” A knot formed in Lilian’s stomach. She was grateful to have left the snake handle knife back in her room with Fritha. She looked to Mr Attorcop for guidance. His eyes were narrowed.

“That blade was won fairly.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Kissandra replied quickly, holding her hands up in front of her, “I just feel like my information has been valuable and I’d be happy to have that value met by the return of my poison blade.” There was a silence. Kissandra shrugged. “Think on it.” She turned back to leave again but something she had said had caught Lilian’s attention.

“What do you mean, poison blade?” Kissandra answered as she walked, taking the steps two at a time.

“The handle is hollow, for a vile of poison. There’s a hidden button that crushes the glass and drips the liquid onto the knife. It’s a rare item, difficult to reproduce and quite old. Keep it for now, but once you have the money, I’d like to discuss its return to me.” And with that, Kissandra whipped her hood over her head, smiled and disappeared through the trap door in the ceiling. Lilian thought about what she said, she had assumed the compartment had just been meant to hide messages or secret codes. The snake motif made more sense now. She looked over to Mr Attorcop whose face had turned white as a sheet.

“Lilian…” he said, “When was the last time you checked on the essence in that knife?”

By the time Lilian reached her little attic room she was out of breath. She hadn’t quite sprinted all the way back but she had certainly maintained a quickened pace. Her legs were heavy from the stairs up to her room and she could feel patches of sweat forming under her arms. Fritha was delighted to see her, jumping off the bed and bounding over with all the day’s pent up energy. Lilian gave her a quick hug and some food before checking on the blade. She’d hidden it under her little desk using a combination of string and a few nails. She knew that Fritha would probably be enough to scare off any chancing thief, but she wasn’t about to take any risks with something so precious. Her hand closed around the handle and Lilian breathed a small sigh of relief. She brought the blade and its sheath out from under the desk and carefully clicked the false snake scale until the handle popped open. No liquid seeped out, that was a good sign. Slowly, she parted the two sections and found the vial of lunar essence. It was intact and Lilian could finally relax. The light of the liquid illuminated her palm. Knowing that it was their very last bottle made the already meagre amount seem even less. Lilian thought about giving it back to Mr Attorcop, it’s not like she was able to do anything with it. She recalled the other night in the Stave Church and remembered how she had broken down at the mere memory of home. She remembered Mr Attorcop’s words, closed her eyes and allowed herself to think of Kilde. She felt the cold glass in her hand and approached the memories with love, rather than fear. She recalled his face, his laugh and his manner. He’d had a way of looking at the world that she had found confusing sometimes. He saw the good in everyone, he worked hard to understand why people did the things they did and if things didn’t go his way, he still managed to see the sunny side. A familiar lump formed in her throat but instead of shying away from it, Lilian followed the feeling. She took a deep breath and tried to find the happiness in her memories. It took a while, but it was there. The day’s they’d spent playing by the river, the pranks they pulled in class, the games they made up on rainy evenings. The lump slowly began to disappear and a smile took its place. Kilde was gone. But he was still teaching her, still affecting the way she saw the world. Lilian thanked him for that and opened her eyes. Fritha was sitting directly opposite her. Her eyes wide and curious. Her coat shimmered into a beautiful emerald green and she let out a soothing purr, like someone was running a padded hammer along musical wooden bars. Lilian smiled. The lack of essence was worth this animal’s recovery. She would have used the whole bottle if she’d had to and would not have regretted it one jot. Lilian thought about what Kilde would have said if he’d known what she was about to get into. Robbing the Weardian, dismantling the seat of power. It all seemed a very long way from the little day-to-day troubles they’d faced in Benlunar. But she had also come a long way. And she felt ready.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Not the polite knock of a friend worried about intruding, but a forceful knuckle that wrapped hard two times. Lilian didn’t recognise it and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Fritha seemed just as alarmed but when Lilian showed her the hand signal to disappear she obediently faded into the carpet.

“Who is it?” she asked. She didn’t need to be loud, the door was made of cheap, thin wood and her room was not big. There was a small pause and a man’s voice replied.

“A message from the palace.” Something about the sharp tone seemed vaguely familiar.

“Just a second.” She tried to buy herself some time. Slipping the vial of lunar essence quickly up her sleeve (her current smock lacked pockets) she went back over to the desk and was about to hide Kissandra’s blade again but a worry stayed her hand. Something about that voice. Two more knocks came from the door, not sharp wraps this time but loud thuds.

“Coming!” she tried to make it seem like she had been interrupted in the middle of dressing or washing. She glanced around in panic, not sure where to put the knife. Muttering a quick curse under her breath, she hid the weapon behind her back and opened the door.

Standing on the other side was an older man of average height. He wore a tall hat and a splendid purple coat. Pinned to the breast pocket, plane as day for all the world to see, was a brooch in the shape of a hand. Its polished silver reflected what low light there was on Lilian’s landing. In his left hand he held a cane, the top of which was adorned with a beautiful copper coloured scorpion stinger. Lilian looked up and into the eyes of Nicholas Telson. He was smiling. An oddly charming smile, one practised over many years and used to ingratiate himself into any company no doubt. She tried to not act too surprised, or even as though she recognised him. Last time they’d met, he’d been wearing a mask so it stood to reason that Lilian shouldn’t know him. Thankfully she had been partly prepared, having recognised his voice through the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lausanne.”

“Hello.” Lilian replied quickly, trying to ignore the knot of fear forming in her stomach. His eyes quickly glanced past her, scanning the room beyond in a flash before falling back on her.

“Pardon the intrusion. I was informed of your visit to the palace court this morning and have been sent to enquire as to why you did not fulfill your obligation to the Empress.” Lilian scrambled for an excuse, this sudden appearance had caught her off guard.

“I was told I had a week…”

“You had more pressing appointments at court than a meeting with her majesty?”

“No I just…”

“Apparently your, pet, was not with you.” Lilian winced at the way he said the word ‘pet’, like it left a sour taste in his mouth. “May I enquire as to why not?” Lilian felt her patience begin to run out.

“You’re welcome to enquire about whatever you like, whether or not you’ll get answers is a different matter.” There was a pause. Lilian regretted being cheeky, but if there was one thing she despised it was being bullied. Telson narrowed his eyes. Lilian thought he was about to launch into an angry tirade like her old school mistress, Madame Streng, would do every time one of her class would talk back to her. Instead, his expression softened into another second smile, even more disarming than the first, and he softened his approach.

“My apologies Miss Lausanne, I am under a certain amount of pressure from her majesty to see that your appointment is met and I admit I let it get to me for a moment.” He offered a small bow and Lilian felt her temper cool. She did not allow her guard to slip however. Kissandra’s foot long blade was getting heavy in her hidden hand. “May I come in?” Lilian could not think of a reason to refuse him quick enough and Telson was already moving past the threshold and removing his hat. She kept her eyes fixed on him and saw that his gaze shot from corner to corner, looking for something, probably Fritha, she thought. Lilian shut the door and leant her weight on it. She knew that if she kept her hand behind her back then Telson would know she was hiding something. So she put the knife between her and the door and kept it there with the weight of her body. She then crossed her arms in front of her and made herself look like she was waiting impatiently for this unwelcome guest to leave. Telson turned to her with a third smile, a settled smile shared with close friends.

“I don’t wish to get off on the wrong foot. My name is Telson. I work with Empress Sylvia. It is my duty to make sure the Empress’s wishes are fulfilled.” Lilian said nothing. One of Mr Attorcop’s greatest lessons had been when and where to rely on silence. People often reveal more when they are unprompted. Asking a question will only get you an answer to that question, remaining silent reveals all manner of things. His voice echoed once again in her mind. And so she said nothing. “I appreciate that meeting the Empress at the ball might have been an intimidating experience. We’re not so detached at court that we are unaware of her reputation. I will say this then.” He walked about the small floor space, his cane tapping the wood a second before each step, and glanced at the various furniture and paraphernalia that Lilian had collected over her weeks in the city. His tone was calm and casual on the surface, but Lilian could sense the threats lurking in its depths. “Empress Sylvia is nothing if not fair. Her reputation for cruelty is spread by those who have either broken the law or intend to damage her good name.” He paused and looked back at Lilian. She got the impression she was supposed to say something, she kept her response short.

“I haven’t broken any laws.” He held her stare and searched her eyes. Lilian knew that looking away would undermine the lie. She, of course, had broken many laws, but she could not let him know that. His face was losing some of its friendliness as it searched hers for the truth. But with a quick breath and a glance up at the ceiling it was back.

“No. No of course not. I’m not suggesting you have. I’m merely saying that seeing as the Empress’s word is law, to deny a direct request, particularly after having agreed to it, might be seen as… treason.” His eyes flashed on the final word. Lilian was not afraid.

“I still have a few days to fulfill The Empress request.” She tried her best not to speak through gritted teeth. Telson narrowed his eyes,

“So you keep saying.” Lilian had had enough of this man.

“Are you saying that the Empress was wrong to give me a week? Maybe I should tell her when I see her that her close associates don’t fully trust her judgement.” Telson’s face remained still, save for the smallest twitch in the corner of his mouth. The twitch became a fourth smile, sly and obsequious.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. But nor would I be fulfilling my duties if I simply let everyone who came in contact with her majesty run around the city ignoring her direct requests.” Lilian breathed in deeply, readying herself to let this pompous bureaucrat have it.

“Well if your duties involve running around the city checking up on children then I doubt very much Empress Sylvia…” At that moment, she stopped speaking. Telson, only two steps away from her, moved with unnatural speed. He whipped around and brought the tip of his cane flying towards Lilian’s temple. If she hadn’t been on high alert she would have undoubtedly been struck and knocked out, but thankfully she managed to drop her head down and avoid the strike. The move meant that the knife came loose behind her. Lilian leant into the momentum of the dodge to twist round and grab its handle before it hit the floor. She continued to spin up and round, bringing the knife, still in its sheath up to defend a second strike. A deft backhanded swing from Telson. The wooden cane and sheath met inches away from Lilian’s left eye with a sharp crack. Both combatants brought their free hands up to other ends of their weapons to reinforce the stalemate. Telson pushed forward, baring his full weight down on little Lilian lausanne.

“Enough games.” Telson spat the words. He was so close, Lilian could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “For some ridiculous reason, The Empress is fixated on you and that filthy animal you keep in your company. If it were up to me I would run it through and feed it to the foxes.” Lilian readied her right hand.

“You’ll have to find her first.” As quick as she had been attacked she unsheathed the knife and thrust the blade up and forward. Telson was ready however and did the same thing. His cane had been hiding a thin sword inside it and a quick twist and pull revealed the weapon. This time, it was the blades that met and instead of a crack they produced a high pitched ringing. Telson twisted the first strike away and came back with two more swift slashes. Lilian was able to parry them both and even used the now empty sheath to catch the second before it cut her upper arm. She kept her eyes trained on his, trying to anticipate his strikes by seeing where he was looking. Their blades clashed three more times and Lilian had to remind herself to keep breathing or else she would tire quickly. Occasionally she would glance down at his feet, trying desperately to find a weakness in his stance, but he was too clever or experienced to reveal any such gap. Lilian was reminded of training with Mr Attorcop, but whereas her mentor acted like an immovable rock, this man felt more like fighting fluid metal. He moved with grace and even held his weapon with a soft grip, that is until a millisecond before an attack or parry where the metal would harden at the point of contact into solid steel. If fighting Mr Attorcop felt like hitting a boulder, fighting Telson was like fighting a waterfall. One that could freeze in a second, and rain weight and power down in the next instant. As Lilian ducked and parried in frantic panic, she knew she was outmatched. She wanted to call out to Fritha for help, but she could not risk her being revealed. Not only was she fighting a skilled swordsman but Lilian was quickly figuring out that Kissandra’s blade was not intended for trading blows. It was an assassin’s knife, lightweight and thin. It parried Telson’s numerous swipes well enough but had far too little mass to give her reposts much clout. Lilian was still too young to be able to rely on her strength alone so the tools she used needed to compensate for her weaknesses. Unfortunately, Kissandra’s snake handled blade did no such thing.

Telson’s sword on the other hand was perfectly suited to his body and fighting style. It could be hidden behind his back in a step and then whip out in a flash. Blink and you wouldn’t just miss it, you’d be dead. Lilian’s eyelids were beginning to stick with sweat. She twisted out of an attempted disarm and countered with a kick. Telson was ready for it however and dodged out of the way by bringing his feet together and swinging his waist out to the right. The move was couple with a downward slash and Lilian saw a streak of red on her leg. She took a quick breath in and seconds later felt the pain from the cut. She blocked Telson’s follow up punch but was too shocked to think ahead more than just a few moves. Telson whipped his blade up and knocked Kissandra’s knife out of her hand. It flipped three times in the air before embedding itself in her desk with a dull thud. Lilian’s eyes were drawn to the sound but as soon as her attention came back to Telson she realised that the tip of his sword was at her throat. She could feel its needle sharp point scraping her skin every time she breathed in. Telson did not seem out of breath at all. His voice was calm but all of his smiles had disappeared.

“Tomorrow afternoon, fifth bell, you are to be at the palace gates. You will bring your slobbering beast with you and The Empress will finally put this idiotic project out of her head. Do you understand me, Lilian Lausanne?” Lilian was loath to respond. She felt the tip of Telson’s sword press against her skin with a surgeon’s precision: enough pressure to be felt, but not so much as to draw blood.

“Do you understand?” Telson repeated the question through gritted teeth.

“Yes.” There was a short pause but once Telson was satisfied that she was telling the truth the sword whipped away with a whisper swish and was being slid back into the cane before Lilian felt comfortable enough to move again freely.

“Good. Then I shall see you both tomorrow. And please don’t think of running or being late, the next time I have to ask I will not be so polite” He placed a delicate hand on Lilian’s shoulder and moved her aside, clearing his path from the door. The whole visit, including the outbreak of violence, felt to Lilian like he found it to be just another laborious logistical task. It was as if Telson had been asked to clean a particularly tough stain. He walked past Lilian, opened the door and even had the cheek to tip his hat before replacing it on his head.

“Have a good evening Miss Lausanne.” Lilian could only hope that her glare conveyed enough of her hatred as the door shut and Nicholas Telson disappeared from sight. All that was left of him was the sweet smell of perfume and a trickle of blood on Lilian’s leg.

Episode 39

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Of all the reactions and emotions that Lilian had expected the silver hand brooch to produce, sadness was the last. Her new friend, Genevive Katz, a noble woman and daughter of a minister, was sitting opposite her in the family home behind the palace court walls. The brooch, perfectly shaped down to the creasing in the knuckles, lay on the table between them. Genevive wiped the tear off her cheek and picked it up, turning it over in her hands as if seeing it for the first time.

“I made them all.” she said, softly. Lilian’s heart was still beating quickly in her chest. She glanced over at a large knife wrack on the kitchen counter top and readied her body for attack. Now that Genevive was openly admitting her role in the plot she was becoming unpredictable and Lilian had to be ready for anything. But instead of feeling threatened, Lilian began to feel something else. Not anger or hatred at someone who was clearly involved in making her life miserable, but pity. Genevive set the brooch back down.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed loudly, trying to regain control, “I did not expect to see this just now. May I ask where you got it?” Lilian remained silent, not wanting to give anything away. Genevive looked at her with apprehension. “My goodness, what you must think of me. Please…” Suddenly, Genevive was standing. The sound of her chair legs scraping against the stone floor shocked Lilian into jumping up. Genevive slowed her movements down.

“Lilian. Please. There is no danger I… I can explain. Please, follow me.” She turned and headed over to the large standing bookcase that Lilian had been admiring moments before they’d sat down to drink their tea. Lilian kept her eyes trained on Genevive, still not fully trusting that she wished her no harm. Genevive approached the bookcase and reached up to fetch a large, leather bound tome on the second shelf from the top. Lilian couldn’t read the title from where she was standing but it looked heavy and boring. Confused, Lilian watched her hostess pull the book off the shelf. Instead of the book coming away completely though it abruptly stopped when it was halfway out and Lilian heard a loud click coming from somewhere within the wooden structure. Lilian then stared in wide eyed amazement as the entire unit shifted open on hidden hinges, revealing a small opening in the wall just large enough for someone to squeeze through. Genevive turned back to her.

“Come, see. I promise I will explain everything.” And with that, she was gone, the hole in the wall had swallowed her up. Lilian glanced at the hallway and contemplated leaving. She had her answer after all, she knew who made the silver hand brooches. Did she really need to put herself in further danger? Lilian being Lilian though, could not resist the call of mystery and found her feet stepping of their own accord towards the secret door.

The first thing she felt when she put her hand through the hole was softness. She had expected cold, hard wood or stone, but the wall was spongy. She ducked her head down and stepped through the gap to see that the walls inside were completely covered in woven hessian. Not only that, but the hessian was stuffed with something, possibly wool or wood chips which made the walls crease when touched. A light flared up ahead and Lilian saw that Genevive had struck a flint, igniting an oil lamp. A warm glow filled the space which Lilian quickly realised was oppressively hot. She marvelled at the work that must have gone into creating such a room. The walls and ceiling were all covered in soft, stuffed hessian. There were workbenches all around the edges and a vast array of tools and materials scattered around. Lilian saw sheets of what looked like iron, a large silver breastplate and even two or three swords hanging on the walls. In the corner she spied the silver coronet and bracers she had seen Genevive wear to the ball, they were resting on a sort of mannequin which although beautifully decorated, was looking a little worse for wear. As for the tools, Lilian saw hammers, tongues, files, vices, pincers and even a small anvil. Genevive watched her take it all in.

“This is where I work. As you can see it’s more than just a hobby.” When she spoke, her voice was clear and quiet. Lilian realised that there was no echo in here, any sound was completely absorbed by the walls. Her eyes fell on the hammer and anvil and suddenly she understood why she had not been able to place the mysterious ringing bell. Any noises coming from within this room would be swallowed up completely, making them difficult to detect even when in hyper focus.

Lilian was having trouble finding the right words. On the one hand she still felt animosity towards Genevive, but on the other, this room was just too exciting. She looked up to see a row of shining helmets, some mid construction. On the wall to her left was a peg board adorned with a hundred bracelets, amulets, rings and all manner of sparkling things. Finally, Lilian spoke.

“You made all this?” Genevive nodded. A small smile appeared on her face, a hint of pride.

“I did. It’s strange to show someone else this place. I am in here alone most days. I was told that I could never tell anyone and that I had to make whatever I was asked to make. In return, I would be left alone and my father would be safe.” Lilian shot her a quizzical look. Most of her fear and worry had disappeared upon seeing this hidden workshop.

“Your father is in danger?” she asked. Genevive took a long, deep breath.

“How much do you know about the people who wear those clasps? The silver hands.” Lilian reached out to pick up a ring in the shape of a badger’s head. It was perfectly crafted down to the hairs and beady black eyes.

“I know they’re not to be trusted.” she spoke bluntly but reminded herself not to give too much away. The comment came out as a little more accusatory than she had intended. Genevive looked down at her hands, avoiding Lilian’s eye.

“Well, you are correct there. To tell the truth, I have been waiting for many years for someone to bring me back one of my hands. I never thought that it would be a young girl I met at the Summer Ball. But if you have one then that means you have dealt with the guiding hand, and that usually means that you have been hurt or wronged in some way, yes?” Lilian stayed quiet, allowing her silence to confirm Genevive’s suspicion. She nodded solemnly and continued. “Perhaps you are here for revenge. Maybe for answers. I do not know what happened but I promise I will give you what you need just…” she faltered for a second, glancing around at her many creations as if searching for inspiration, “Just please don’t tell anyone I told you. If it gets out that I am working against them then…” she trailed off, obviously implying some terrible fate. Lilian put the badger ring down and stepped towards Genevive. It was time for her to get what she came for.

“My friends and I have been hurt, hunted, beaten and accused of things we never did. Whenever we look for answers, your brooches show up.” Lilian was trying to keep anger out of her voice, but she could not help but spit the words. “Who are The Guiding Hand? What do they want and why are you working for them?”

“Many years ago, when my father and I first arrived in Freedos, he was approached by a man from the palace. He was kind and generous, giving us welcoming gifts, explaining that the Empress would help us solve the problems in our community back home. My father came here as a representative and this man assured us that our concerns would be dealt with. The towns and villages where I grew up are very poor and receive no help from the city so this was all good news. But weeks passed and nothing happened. Every time my father requested an audience with the Empress he was either denied it or it was pushed back further and further. He became desperate as he started running out of money. I knew no one in the city and so I started making little things because I was so bored. Some of them I sold, but we made nowhere near enough money to cover our bills. My father asked the palace if he could borrow some and they were very happy and quick to oblige. And so we fell into debt. My father had to work in Laga quarter every day just so that he could keep up with payments. He became very tired and sad, a different man from the one who arrived in Freedos with dreams of helping his home. He began to drink and to gamble. At first I hated him for this but now I think I understand. This behaviour was encouraged, anything to force him deeper into debt. One day the man from the palace returned and demanded payment in full. This was impossible of course, the sum was far too great. But then he noticed that I had been making bracelets and brooches here in this little room. He said that if I made him what he needed, when he needed it then we need not pay him the money. The first thing he asked for was the top of a cane, then there was the first brooch.”

Genevive picked up a cloth and began to absentmindedly polish a bronze signet ring. Lilian had watched her body change during the telling of her story. Each word caused her shoulders to relax just a little, as if the weight of a great secret was being lifted. She looked up from her hands and Lilian saw that her eyes were stained red.

“I’m sorry. I barely know you and perhaps you are here for revenge and I understand that. You can destroy my workshop, I don’t care. Hit me if you wish, that’s fine. Strangely, it just feels good to tell someone. I’m…” A word caught in her throat and Lilian felt her own emotions welling up as well. “I’m just so very lonely. I saw you at the ball and you seemed like you were out of place as well. I was around your age when I arrived here and I really could have used… a friend.” And there it was. The final piece of a puzzle that Lilian had been building in her head. A pronunciation here, a turn of phrase there and Lilian finally realised why Genevive felt so familiar.

“You’re from the Titan Woods,” she said. Genevive’s face looked shocked. The comment had come out of nowhere and she had not expected it. But she smiled.

“I am! Well, nearby. A little place north of there called Rindton. You know the woods?” Lilian smiled widely at the memory of her time there.

“I’ve been to Hundsberg.” Genevive laughed.

“Ha! Very funny. This place is not real.”

“It is! They sound like you and everyone has a dog and it’s big but hidden in the forest. And I met someone from the hundred who has your accent too. Her name was Solveig.” Genevive’s face was the picture of incredulity.

“The hundred I know of course. A few of them are from my town. Where I’m from you either herd cows or you learn to fight, that’s about it. I actually made a helmet for one of them once. They all have to earn their animal and his was a beetle.” She turned around and pulled open a drawer. Inside were reams of parchment filled with sketches. She took one out and showed it to Lilian, sure enough it had pictures of a helmet in the shape of a stag beetle’s head, it’s chitinous plates formed the bulk of the dome and two terrifying mandibles protruded from the front. Lilian’s eyes widened. The sketch was extremely detailed, down to the tiny dents in the carapace that made it seem more organic than mineral. Lilian looked back to Genevive. She was smiling.

“I thought you were some noble girl out for revenge, but somehow I don’t think that is right.” Lilian shrugged.

“Revenge is close, but I’m no noble.” She handed the sketch back. “Genevive, thank you for showing me this place and for talking to me. I’m sorry about what you and your father have gone through. You must miss your home.” Genevive nodded solemnly. “I know what it’s like to be far from your people and to have to keep secrets. I came here today for information and you’ve given me so much already. I hate to ask more but… that man from the palace. The one with the cane. Who is he?” Genevive took a deep breath. She had already crossed so many lines, given away so much that she was supposed to keep secret. This one felt different though.

“It’s alright.” Lilian could sense her hesitation. Whoever he was, this man with the cane was clearly dangerous. “I won’t let it come back to you or your family. I just... I need to know as much as possible if I’m going to fight them.” Genevive’s forehead wrinkled in disbelief. She took a second to think before speaking.

“You are so young, yet you say you’ve been to a legendary village, survived an encounter with The Hundred and now you talk of fighting The Guiding Hand? Who are you really?” Lilian smiled her most supportive and reassuring grin.

“I’m no one. I’m from a small town in the eastern mountains called Benlunar. I’m the daughter of builders and a friend of sorcerers. My name is Lilian Lausanne, and I’m going to help you.”

After two more hours and three more cups of tea Lilian had the name. It came as all secrets do, quietly and with trepidation, unsure whether it would be welcomed or shooed away. She did not recognise it but was glad to have it. It came with warnings of violence, with a history of extortion and dark deeds. Whoever he was, this man, the one with the cane with the scorpion stinger top, was close to the Empress. He was not a bumbling politician or some sycophantic civil servant, but a shadowy power unelected and unchallenged. By the time Lilian had finished learning all she could about him the sun was high above the hill and her stomach was growling at her to leave. She hugged her new friend and whispered a promise to keep her secrets safe and to only share them with those that wished her well. Genevive, her problems shared and therefore halved walked with a new lightness. As she waved goodbye from the front door, Lilian saw her real smile for the first time. Like a child’s silly grin, unburdened by the troubles of adult life. It made Lilian happy and reminded her of why she was doing any and all of this. Soon, she thought, all the citizens of Freedos would smile that way.

“What are you doing here?” Suddenly, a voice, sharp as cut glass appeared to Lilian’s left. She had been distracted by her victory and so focused on leaving the court gates that she’d failed to notice the young woman glaring at her from a few feet away. Lilian turned uphill towards the palace to face her inquisitor. For a split second, she had to make sure it was indeed her that had been shouted at. She did not recognise the young woman who stared at her with dagger eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she continued, “fox got your tongue?” And then Lilian realised who it was. She no longer wore sharp white feathers but her words cut just the same.

“Miss Bellaswan,” Lilian, emboldened by her successful mission, replied in her most obsequious tone, “how delightful. I would have let you know I was visiting court today but I assumed you would be off playing croquet with The Empress.” Miss Bellaswan scowled at the comment. She wore a fine blue dress with white lace detailing around the cuffs and neck. Lilian noticed then that she was not alone but had broken off from a small group of young nobles who seemed to be waiting for her to catch up. They gawked at the scene like fish peering out of a pond. Lilian didn’t mind. She had been intimidated by the crowd at the ball but now she relished having an audience. Miss Bellaswan’s lip curled as if she was being forced to breathe in a bad smell.

“Croquet was cancelled today, although I’m surprised you know the game. Don’t they just throw rocks into holes in the ground for fun where you come from?” This was met with a few titters from the group, Lilian didn’t care.

“Yes but the holes are filled with dung. You forgot about that part.”

“My mistake.” The young noblesse performed a fake curtsy by means of a fake apology. “I hear you’re the Benbublar dung pit champion, you must be so proud.”

“Oh indeed,” replied Lilian, past all pretence of caring, “I win every year. The prize is dinner with a young noble woman but of course I refuse it, as I would rather jump in the holes than spend an evening having to talk to someone duller than the rocks we throw.” Lilian smiled her cheesiest grin and for a split second she thought she saw the corner of Miss Bellaswan’s mouth curl into a smile as well. But as soon as it appeared it was taken over by a scowl. She looked as though she was about to launch into a tirade of abuse, her face was even turning the colour of cooked beetroot but before she could utter the first cutting word she was interrupted.

“Serena!” an older woman was marching towards them from across the courtyard. She wore a crimson dress and had her hair in tight curls. She was so smartly dressed that Lilian assumed she was on her way to a gala or royal function. Miss Bellaswan’s face lost all its redness at the sound of her name. She turned to look at the woman.

“Mother dearest,” Lilian watched her composure shift completely. The young, confident woman was suddenly a despondent, chastised child. Her gaze fell to her feet and her shoulders slumped.

“Don’t ‘mother dearest’ me,” snapped the approaching woman, “I send you to pay your respects to Mrs Chiltern and I find you dallying with your friends.” Serena Bellaswan tried to protest,

“Mother I…”

“Enough!” her mother cut her off, “you will do as I ask and then you will go straight home and practise your lute playing. Please apologise to this young lady for taking up her time.” Lilian watched the scene unfold. Colour was returning to Miss Bellaswan’s cheeks, not from anger this time but pure shame and embarrassment. Her eyes widened in shock at the suggestion. She turned her gaze back to Lilian and fixed her with a stare so ice cold and terrible that Lilian could feel her heart freezing from pure hatred.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your journey Miss Lausanne. May we meet again soon on an equally pleasant day.” She spoke softly, barely able to contain her spite. Lilian dared not reply.

“Very well. Now off with you,” her mother barked at her, “and no more of your laziness or I shall be forced to send you to your aunt’s for the winter.” And with a swish of red material Lady Bellaswan was off, striding towards the palace doors in a whirlwind of pompous anger.

A part of Lilian wanted to gloat, to tell Serena Bellaswan to follow her mother’s advice and leave, but something held her back. There was no sport in kicking someone when they were down. So she kept quiet. Serena must have known what was going on in her head though because she fixed Lilian with a murderous glare before twisting on her heel and rejoining her group of friends. Lilian had entered the interaction in high spirits, despite having to verbally joust with someone she’d rather have avoided, but she left the scene feeling sad. She had promised to help Genevive with her problems, but perhaps she was not the only noble woman trapped in an unhappy situation. Lilian headed for the court gates and briefly turned her head to the sun as she walked. Its heat was just as pleasant here beyond the palace court walls as it had been at the base of the extinct volcano. The thought reassured her. The sun did not care where you lived or how much money you had, like the moon it shined regardless. Lilian breathed in a warm, calming breath and made a quick mental note to not stay out in the midday heat for too long, lest her eyes become dazzled and her skin burned.

After stopping at a food cart that sold sweet steamed buns Lilian headed straight to Mr Twitchett’s basement to tell Mr Attorcop all about her morning’s discoveries. She was conscious of having left Fritha at home alone for quite some time but decided that getting food and information to Mr Attorcop was more important. Her pace quickened each time she passed one of Mr Attorcop’s ‘wanted’ posters. Thankfully her journey was void of Weardian officers or snooping palace guards. She checked over her shoulder more than once before making the turn down the alley to the squat structure that housed the basement trap door. Ever since Bried and her mannerless company had discovered the hideout Lilian had been nervous about spies. She was confident that Bried would not disclose the basement’s location to the Weardian, there was some honour amongst thieves after all, but she could not say the same about the odd bystander who witnessed a young girl creeping around back alleys and acting strangely.

Lilian felt her body relax as she shut the trap door behind her, confident that she had not been followed, only to have it tense up again tenfold when she looked into the underground room and saw Mr Attorcop standing with someone she’d hoped never to see again for the rest of her days. Her train of thought was derailed and her body's reaction was so extreme, she nearly dropped the steamed buns entirely.

“Lilian, welcome back. How was your morning?” Mr Attorcop spoke with a frustrating calmness.

“What is SHE doing here?” Lilian bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger as she spoke. The woman who Mr Attorcop was speaking with smiled, she was as tall and beautiful as Lilian remembered her. Her green eyes reflected the patches of sun streaming through the small grated windows.

“Good afternoon Miss Lausanne, it’s a pleasure to see you too.”

“Hello Kissandra,” Lilian spat the name with as much contempt as she could muster. Memories of this dangerous stranger flashed into her head; the sight of her masked and hooded face outside the tower window, the image of her frozen in place in the middle of the chalk circle on the stone shelf where she and Mr Attorcop trained. Kissandra the assassin stood leaning against a table twenty feet from Lilian as cool as a cucumber. She wore a dark leather breast plate and a sleek, dark blue half cape, the hood of which hung down behind her.

“It’s alright Lilian,” Mr Attorcop reassured her, “Kissandra is here on my invitation.” Lilian spluttered a protest,

“But, she tried to…”

“She tried to do a job. She failed. Now she is here to discuss our options which seeing as you’ve been outside today you will know are quickly dwindling.” Of all the allies she had expected Mr Attorcop to turn to, Kissandra the killer was surely the last.

“It’s fine Cromwell, I understand Miss Lausanne’s trepidation. I would not be so quick to trust me either, given our history.” Lilian said nothing but instead took an angry bite out of her steamed bun. She was still seething with rage so was unable to enjoy its warm, soft sweetness. She walked over to Mr Attorcop, keeping her eyes trained on Kissandra, as if at any minute she would spring into an attack. She shoved the spare bun into Mr Attorcop’s chest, a little more forcefully than was necessary.

“Thank you.” he said.

“Hmph.” Lilian grunted.

“Cromwell has invited me here to talk about the Weardian. It seems we share a common enemy. While I understand that you don’t have much coin to spare, I think we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” Lilian swallowed a mouthful of bread.

“You’re going to help us take on the Weardian?” Kissandra swayed her head from side to side, weighing her words.

“Maybe not directly. But we can help you with whatever plan you cook up down here in the dark.”

“We?” parroted Lilian.

“Bana House have a vested interest in seeing the Weardian disbanded.” Lilian turned a disbelieving gaze at Mr Attorcop.

“We can’t trust her. I’ve just spent the morning figuring out who she works for, they’re not good people Cromwell.” Before Mr Attorcop could reply, Kissandra defended her position.

“I work for the highest bidder and I do what I am asked. And yes, sometimes that includes wearing peculiar brooches. I assume you’re talking about The Guiding Hand?” Lilian narrowed her eyes. “Well,” she continued, “you are right when you say they are not good people, but in my line of work one cannot afford to take such a blinkered view of good or bad.” Mr Attorcop nodded in agreement.

“That’s what I keep trying to teach her.” Kissandra smiled.

“Well then I see that the city has indeed not tarnished your kind soul.” Lilian was fed up with these two, trading jokes like they were old friends. She chewed and swallowed the last of her bun and crossed her arms in a sulk. She had returned to the basement excited at her progress but this interaction felt like taking a step back after two steps forward. Mr Attorcop sensed her frustration.

“Lilian, when you run out of friends, you turn to your enemies, I’ve done it before and I should think I will eventually have to do it again.” Lilian huffed.

“Next thing you’ll be saying we should team up with Bried.” Kissandra shook her head.

“She would never help. Strange as it may seem, keeping the Weardian around actually works in the favour for many of the city’s criminal class.”

“I know!” Lilian exclaimed, “it was a figure of speech. Twelve hells you two, I go up the hill for one morning and the world turns upside down.” Mr Attorcop’s face became solem.

“It’s been turning for quite some time Lilian, this is just the latest revolution. Speaking of this morning, did you manage to confirm our suspicion?” Lilian shot Kissandra a furtive glance, still unsure whether she could be trusted.

“It’s alright,” she said in her cool, clear voice, “Cromwell has told me all about your efforts. I have to say that following the brooches was an excellent plan. I never met the person who ordered the hit on you Cromwell, but their emissary told me to make sure I was wearing the brooch when I did the deed.” Mr Attorcop rolled his eyes. Lilian sensed one of his rants about pretentious fools coming soon. He pushed the thought to one side however and looked back at Lilian.

“Does our mutual friend make the brooches?” Lilian took a second before answering. She shot Mr Attorcop a look that she hoped would convey the phrase, I hope you know what you’re doing, before replying.

“Yes. She makes them in her home.” Mr Attorcop was about to speak but Lilian was not finished. “But she’s being forced, threatened by a man who works directly with the Empress. The Guiding Hand doesn’t have a leader but if anyone were to take the title, it would be him.” Mr Attorcop and Kissandra glanced at each other, months of plotting was about to come to an end, finally, they would have a name, and with a name there would come a plan. Lilian remembered her vow to share the secret only with those who would wish the best for Genevive, she did not trust Kissandra, but she trusted Cromwell Attorcop, and so she spoke.

“He rarely leaves the Empress’ side, he’s about your age Cromwell and he walks with a cane. A cane topped with a scorpion stinger. His name is Nicholas Telson, and he is very, very dangerous.”

Episode 38

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian was frozen in place. The detonation had lit up the entire street in deep orange. For a brief moment, the surrounding apartment buildings had looked like they were lit by a crimson sunset. The force of the explosion had reached Lilian and Mr Attorcop all the way over in their hiding place, a small set of steps that led down to a basement door. Lilian had felt her hair shift backwards as if moved by a sudden small storm. As black smoke began billowing out of the broken attic window Lilian glanced at Mr Attorcop. Moments ago he had been bent on running away, now he was as transfixed by the scene as she was. Most of the Weardian officers had disappeared, leaving only the three they had made up to look injured. Two of them were lying on the floor and one was making a show of shakily stumbling out of the front door of the building. Other front doors were beginning to open up and down the street. Curious neighbours and worried citizens were quickly beginning to gather on street level to investigate the strange noise. Lilian saw curtains twitch and people hurriedly rushing to windows to see if they or their homes were in danger. Lilian and Mr Attorcop watched in horror as an older man approached the Weardian cautiously. He seemed to be asking if he could help but as soon as he went to assist one of them three of the Weardian officers that had been on the same spot moments ago came thundering down the round. They ran so close to where Lilian was hiding she felt the vibrations from their heavy boots. Thankfully, they were too distracted with the task at hand to notice the hiding pair. The task seemed to involve getting as many people to notice what had happened as possible. The Weardian were making a great show of shouting to people to step back, raising their voices enough to alert people two roads over. One of them was dashing between groups of onlookers asking them something. Lilian caught the question over the growing hubbub.

“Did you see him? Did he run past here?”

“Who?” replied one woman, still in a dressing gown.

“The man responsible, the owner of the apartment, the sorcerer Attorcop.”

It had taken a little while before the crowd was thick enough for Lilian and Mr Attorcop to slip away unnoticed. Lilian’s hands were still shaking a little by the time they reached her building. The shock of the explosion was still making its way through Lilian’s mind. Had anybody been injured? Did the neighbours know that Cromwell had nothing to do with it? These questions and a hundred others raced through her thoughts. Once Lilian had unlocked her door she turned back to Mr Attorcop. His face was scowling in thought. He looked up from his feet.

“Lilian, I think I might have to stay below ground for a while.” Lilian wiped a cold bead of sweat from her forehead.

“What?”

“I think those men were trying to frame me and I’m nervous. I’m nervous because I can’t think of a reason they might want to do that.”

“I’ll swing by tomorrow with some food.” Fritha appeared by the door, sitting patiently as if she had been waiting for them to arrive. Mr Attorcop nodded,

“Thank you. Be careful wandering around the city. The weardian will probably try to use you to get to me.”

“I’ll keep out of their way.” Lilian reassured him and they said their goodbyes. As soon as she shut the door to her room she collapsed onto her bed. Visions of shattering glass and black smoke still prevented her from sleeping right away. There was one thing though that kept her focus. It was the officer’s words. The thing he’d said when asking for Mr Attorcop. That he was the man responsible. The owner of the apartment. She pictured the officer’s poorly shaven, big browed head and she hated him.

Mr Attorcop had been right to hide himself away. The very next morning Lilian woke up to go and bring Mr Attorcop some food from the market. She was halfway through buying a few sweet potatoes on Checkad square when she noticed the first poster. It was plastered on a wall directly behind the farmer who ran the stall. The paste was still wet and the ink was stained in a few places but Lilian thought she saw the name Attorcop.

“Excuse me?” She asked the stall holder, a young woman with dirt under her fingernails. “What is that?” The woman turned to see where Lilian was pointing.

“Oh yeah, they put that up this morning. Something to do with the injured officers. This fellow lures them into his attic which he rigged to blow and then traps them inside and sets em off!”

“That’s not wh…” Lilian stopped herself mid sentence, eliciting a strange expression from the woman.

“That’s not what?” she asked.

“That’s… not what I heard”

“Oh yeah?” The woman smiled and leaned it, eager to hear a new take on the morning’s scandal. Lilian panicked.

“Oh… um, yes. I heard that he’s innocent and that the officers weren’t even injured and that they set the explosion off themselves.” There was a small pause and Lilian set about putting her produce into her bag. The woman running the stall burst into fits of laughter.

“Ha! Oh that’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that one for my brother!” Lilian considered pressing on and trying to convince her but she remembered that she was at the market for more important things than gossip. She smiled, acknowledging that she was in on the joke and said goodbye to the woman. She’d left Fritha at the edge of the market and saw two more posters on her way to collect her. By the time they reached Mr Attorcop’s basement (checking for tails as they went), Lilian had counted twenty-three.

“Twenty-three?” Mr Attorcop parroted the number back to Lilian as soon as she told him. “That’s actually quite impressive. Amazing that they had that many to hand so quickly, don’t you think?” Lilian detected a hint of bitterness in his tone. He tutted and went about bringing the food over to the little kitchen area. “Thank you for this, Lilian.”

“I can bring things when I’m free. Next few days might be a bit difficult.” Mr Attorcop spoke with his back to her as he removed various vegetables from Lilian’s pack.

“Don’t go too out of your way. I’m sure others will have seen the posters, I should be fine. But yes, life is going to be a little different these next few weeks. I won’t be able to go around the city by day, I shall have to rely on others for a while.” His shoulders slumped and he threw a mushroom a little too aggressively into the clay bowl, causing several other mushrooms to jump and cascade away. Lilian sensed that he needed space and time to process everything that had just happened. She’d seen him deal with difficult situations before and it was usually just a matter of time before his keen mind started viewing problems as puzzles. As she mumbled her goodbye and climbed up the rickety stairs out of the basement she turned to look back at her mentor. His shoulders were slumped and he was staring coldly ahead, his gaze aimed at the vegetables in front of him, but not really focused on any particular one.

Stepping out cautiously into the sun Lilian turned right and headed to the main road. She still had time before her meeting with Genevive so she decided to take the long route up to the palace gates. The haunting presence of the wanted posters was making it difficult to enjoy the sunshine. She turned onto a wide and busy road. A few carts were being pulled by sleepy donkeys, the ones going up hill were filled to the brim with fresh produce and shiny tools. Any carts coming down only contained odd looking or dirty vegetables or blunt and useless instruments. People gathered around small patches of sun, the beams of which had snuck their way past the tall towers above. Lilian didn’t mind the cold of the shade. The slight chill in the air after months of oppressive heat felt good and reminded her of home. She thought for a few seconds about Kilde and remembered what Mr Attorcop had said about confronting his memory. It was strange, she certainly felt sad whenever she thought about him and that sadness made her want to stop. But if she forced herself to think of something else she would not find the deeper memories. The ones past Kilde’s death. The ones of them playing in the river, of buying honey roasted nuts in the winter market. Even though they all had to be reached through a wall of sadness, these memories made her happy. She smiled at the recollection of Kilde throwing a parchment glider at Madame Streng’s back and the sound she made when she had jumped in surprise.

Lilian was almost surprised to find herself smiling at the memory. She became distracted however by a nudge from her senses. Something within her, a trained reflex to notice strange things was bugging her. She glanced about the street at the various polite pedestrians. None of them seemed out of place, so what was bothering her? Turning to face uphill her sight landed on something in the distance. Whereas most of the patches of sunshine were filled with people there was one up ahead that was empty except for one man. Lilian had barely noticed him as the reflection off his bright white clothes made him blend into the sunlit stone. Lilian narrowed her eyes and approached him, trying to confirm a suspicion.

“Zadoch?” she asked, stepping into the circle of sun. She felt a quick rise in heat as the sun hit her hair and clothes. She was sure it was the same man that had not helped during their fight with Bried. “Are you alright?” He had not seemed to notice her at first but after a few more distracted seconds he looked down at her.

“Ah well hello little moon girl. Nice to see you out in the sun.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

“I see our friend has gotten into a spot of bother.” He gestured to the other side of the road where a poster garishly stared out from a shop window. Lilian rolled her eyes.

“It’s all lies. I’m afraid I don’t have time to tell you everything but you should go and see him.” Zadoch raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, I shall be cautious and pay him a visit later. I should imagine he needs help at a time like this.” Had Lilian been any less aware of who she was dealing with she might have nodded her head in agreement. But she knew that wherever help from Zadoch Korshid was concerned, she had to tread very carefully.

“You should see him. I don’t think he needs help, he certainly hasn’t asked for your help, but should you want to pay him a visit of your own accord then I’m sure he would appreciate that.” Zadoch’s eyebrows lowered ever so slightly, changing his curious expression into one of disappointment.

“Message received, my lady. I shall be sure to compliment our friend on his training when I see him.” Lilian felt a little embarrassed. Mr Attorcop’s warnings had been so fervent that she did not want to risk anything, but perhaps she could have been more subtle about refusing his help.

“Well perhaps I shall see you there. I’m afraid I must go, I have an appointment. It was lovely to see you Pater Korshid.”

“And you moon girl.” Lilian continued her journey upwards and left Zadoch in the patch of warm light. A little distance away she turned to check what he was doing. He was still alone and seemed to have gone back to doing exactly what she had found him doing. Staring upwards past the buildings and directly at the sun.

Lilian didn’t let herself get distracted by the strange behaviour. She had a job to do this morning and she wasn’t about to let more unexpected strangeness distract her from the task at hand. Her legs began to feel heavy as she pushed them against the steep stone road. The slight chill in the shade was becoming increasingly pleasant, so much so that Lilian found herself avoiding the sun entirely. Despite the pains of ascension, the walk was nice enough. The views in particular were a good reward. From near the palace court walls you could see out over a thousand sun touched rooftops and beyond the city walls to green fields sectioned into puzzle pieces by dry dirt roads. Lilian stopped for a moment to admire the sight. She was about to enter the castle gates for the first time since the ball. Genevive lived within the court walls so her family must be close to the Empress. She feared seeing the Empress again but reminded herself that she probably had more important things to do than wandering around the courtyard in the middle of the morning. Besides, she still had a few days before she was supposed to show up at the palace gates with Fritha. Everything would be fine. Right? Her last thoughts before approaching the guard at the gate were that she should have come in disguise, or even just invisible. But she did not know which building belonged to Genevive’s family.

“Hello.” she spoke confidently, as if she was definitely meant to be there, which she was. A large guard turned to look at her and immediately put his hand in front of his face to block the sun. His squinting gave him an angry expression.

“Morning. Delivery is it?” Lilian saw him glance around for a package, parcel or stuffed animal.

“Not today. I’m actually expected inside.” The guard raised his eyebrows in surprise, instantly regretting it when they caught the sun.

“Expected inside?” he repeated the words as he made his way over to a small desk near the gate wall. It had a few stacks of parchment on it, all weighted down by large round metal balls roughly the size of the guard’s fist. The guard caught the eye of two others on the opposite side of the road, they both had their hands up to block out the sun and so stared at Lilian through dark shadows. The first guard moved one of the weights aside with a low thud and picked up a page.

“Name?”

“Lilian Lausanne.” her own name almost caught in her throat.

“Not your name, the name of the person you’re seeing.” His tone was quick but not spiteful or aggressive. Lilian flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry. Um, Katz, Genevive.” There was a short pause as the guard checked the page.

“Lausanne?” he looked up for confirmation. Lilian nodded and the guard went back to the page. Suddenly, Lilian felt the presence of a second guard walk past her. He walked over to the table as well and began inspecting a different pile. Lilian felt a bead of sweat falling down the back of her neck, although she couldn’t tell if that was due to nerves or the long walk.

“Awright. You see that house with the two banners under the windows?” The first guard was suddenly standing and pointing at a building beyond the gates. Lilian had to step through the archway to see which house he meant.

“I see them.”

“If you go there then count four doors to the right. It’s the green one.” He then turned on his heel and left Lilian looking at the banners and buildings. She was too stunned to move at first but she quickly found her feet and began to walk. She dared not look back at the guards and even though she could sense the giant palace uphill and looming to her right, she could not bring herself to look at that either, as if the Empress might burst out of the palace doors as soon as she sensed Lilian’s presence nearby. She kept her head fixed and her vision blinkered so when a second guard’s voice called her name it shocked her into nearly tripping up. Lilian caught herself and spun round to see the other guard, the one that had been checking a different pile of papers, standing by the gates.

“Miss Lausanne, was it?” Lilian could only nod. He looked to a page he was waving in his right hand. “Says here you’ve got an invitation from the Empress.” He paused, expecting Lilian to say something. Lilian chose to stay quiet, as if that was just not enough information. The guard continued to look at her, his face growing confused. “May I ask when you will be fulfilling that request from her Majesty?”

“Oh!” Lilian finally reacted, “Well, I can’t right now. But she, I mean, her majesty said within the week so…” She trailed off hoping that would be enough to make him go away. This new guard was taller than the last and rested his free hand on the pommel of his sword when he waited.

“I would advise you to not keep her majesty waiting for too long...” He trailed off as well. Lilian heard the mockery and threats in his tone. The corner of his mouth even curled in a sneer. Lilian had been told stories of what palace guards were authorised to do to make sure the Empress’ timetable was kept on schedule. It was not rare in the old town to hear a neighbour’s door being kicked in during the early hours of the morning because of a missed appointment the day before. Even the occasional noble house would be visited by a gang of palace guards in the middle of the night, although those raids always seemed to be more civil than the ones in the slum flats and packed Old Town houses. Lilian smiled nervously and then turned back around. She kept her eyes dead ahead once again and listened out for the guards receding footsteps, which never came.

It was only a short walk to Genevive’s building and Lilian was glad to reach the relative safety of her door. It was painted a deep green and had black iron bracings. The knocker was shaped like a chalice, half embedded in the wood. Metal water wrought in intricate detail overflowed from the cup and cascaded down to become the swinging knocker. Lilian watched the light bouncing off the iron as she lifted the water handle, it shimmered realistically and the cold touch to the metal had Lilian almost believing she was picking up actual frozen water. It had a satisfying weight to it and she was about to bring the knocker down with a clunk when she stopped to listen for a second. A small sound had caught her attention. It was a high pitched ringing, like a small bell that was chiming out a never ending alarm. It was that same sound that Lilian had heard that time on the rooftop near the palace walls. It was the sound that had forced her to go to the Empress’ party. Lilian was sure of it. She was sure because no matter which way she looked or turned her head, she could not place it. It was as if the bell was ringing below the ground or in the sky. Lilian crossed her fingers and dropped the knocker. A wide grin spread across her entire face as the metal fell because as soon as that first thunk resounded throughout the interior, the strange bell stopped ringing.

A few quiet seconds ticked by and Lilian took a step back so as to not be right in the face of whoever opened the door. There was the sound of a sliding bolt, a clicking lock and the front door opened to reveal a smiling Genevive.

“Good morning my new friend!” she spoke with that familiar lilt which Lilian still could not place. She seemed happy, happier than when they had first met during the Summer ball. She was no longer dressed as a whimsical warrior but rather wore a comfortable looking, grey cotton shirt that was tucked into trousers that opened up at the calf. They weren’t exactly the clothes that Lilian expected a noble woman to wear, but then very little about Genevive conformed to Lilian’s expectations of noble women.

“Am I too early?” Lilian enquired.

“Not at all, not at all. Tea with a friend can never arrive too soon.” Genevive stepped back and gestured for Lilian to come past the threshold.

The house was spacious for the city. A small hallway with white washed walls led through to a large kitchen and living area. Lilian was reminded a little of William’s place, but where everything there was forced to find its proper spot or risk being a nuisance, things in this room had more space to settle haphazardly. A yellow tin jug rested by a hole in the floor with a rope attached to its handle, there was the bust of a serious looking, bearded man on a side table with little trinkets and keys scattered around the base and even though the place was clean, it didn’t seem very lived in. Unlike a lot of other city houses this one had large windows which meant Lilian was easily able to read the titles on the sides of all the books on the large dark wood bookshelf in the corner.

“You have a beautiful home.” said Lilian, in an attempt at small talk. She would rather have pulled the guiding hand brooch out there and then and demanded answers, but this mission might require a little more tact.

“Thank you, but it’s really my father’s home.” Genevive spoke from across the room, busily filling a pot with water from the yellow jug. Lilian barely recognised her as the same woman who wore the wonderful armour, but she certainly seemed more at ease here than at the ball.

“Is your father upstairs?” asked Lilian.

“Oh no, he’s at work. He is a minister. Honey?” Lilian turned to see her reaching for a small pot on a high shelf.

“Oh, yes please.” Lilian stepped away from the books, most of which seemed to be disappointingly about history and finance rather than metal work, and went to sit at the large kitchen table. It had a clay vase in the centre, painted blue with little white birds around the top. A bunch of large orange and yellow roses protruded out of the opening.

“Have you run into Miss Bellaswan yet?” Genevive came over with a mug of steaming, sweet smelling tea and joined Lilian at the table.

“Hm? Oh, thank you. No, not yet. I dread the day though.” What with everything that had been happening recently Lilian had almost completely forgotten about her new high-society rival. Genevive jokingly clutched at the edge of the table.

“Oooh you’d better watch out for that one. It’s the loveliest roses that have the sharpest thorns.” she gestured to a sharp point on the stalk of one of the flowers in front of her. Lilian smiled.

“Oh I have thorns of my own and I’m not scared of flowers OR swans.” Genevive smiled widely and raised her mug.

“I’ll drink to that! To thorns of our own.” The pair tapped their mugs together before taking a sip of drink. The tea was fresh and full of flavour. Much nicer than the weak, barely flavoured water that was sold in Old Town inns or markets. Lilian was desperate to turn the conversation onto jewelry or armour, anything that might lead to a revelation from Genevive as to her involvement with The Guiding Hand. She had practised a few conversational segways on her way up the hill and tried to find one which suited the situation best. Most of them had involved accusing Genevive or angrily brandishing the brooch, but try as she might she could not see her new friend as an enemy. She looked at Genevive now and could only see a pleasant, smiling young woman who had shown her nothing but kindness. As for jewelry, she wore none. Lilian couldn’t even see a necklace or bracelet, but perhaps there was something there.

“No silver coronet today?” she asked, gesturing at Genevive’s forehead and hoping the question came off as a joke. Thankfully, Genevive smiled.

“Oh no, I cannot dress every day like I’m going to a ball.”

“It was a very beautiful piece.” Genevive bowed her head graciously.

“Why thank you. Yes I was happy with it.” There was a slight pause and Lilian detected some awkwardness. Perhaps she had been too quick to bring up the metal work. Social decorum aside though Lilian was here on a mission, she could not let her friends down now, especially when so much had gone so wrong recently. She decided to press the issue. With as much casual ease as she could muster, Lilian glanced around the room as if she half expected to see a bangle or silver crown leaning against a bowl or hanging from a plant.

“How long have you been making jewelry?” Looking back at Genevive, Lilian caught her cheeks flushing.

“Oh a few years. As I said it’s not really something I discuss often.” Lilian stayed silent but cocked her head questioningly. Genevive continued. “Before we moved to Freedos it was something I practised often, but here it is… difficult.”

“Why?” asked Lilian, hoping not to betray how eager she was to know more. Genevive shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her tea.

“My father is a minister, this makes me some noble man’s daughter. Here at court you are expected to conform I suppose, to certain expectations. Heating and beating metal is the work of a blacksmith.” She said this last part in a deep, silly voice, mocking some unseen nobless. “Please,” she added, “I would prefer it if you kept this to yourself. Once you spend more time within these upper walls, you will understand.” Lilian detected real sadness in her voice, as if a big part of her personality was trying to get through after years of being beaten into shape. She nodded an agreement. Any other time she would have dropped the topic entirely, but she was too close to the truth now. She chastised herself for losing focus, for forgetting that this woman might work for an organisation that was bent on ruining her life. Lilian steeled herself, and pressed the issue.

“What other kinds of things do you make?” The atmosphere in the room shifted as soon as she finished the question. All the signs had pointed to dropping the issue, so Lilian’s insistence was becoming rude. Genevive’s face fell from shy embarrassment, to narrow eyed suspicion. Lilian’s heart began to beat heavily in her chest.

“Lilian, may I ask? Why are you so interested in my work with metal?” Lilian froze. Her attempt at extracting information through tact had failed and her mind was scrambling. Mr Attorcop would be very disappointed. With nothing left to hide Lilian reached into her pocket and clutched one of the silver hand brooches. She brought it out and set it on the wooden surface of the table with a small clunk. She kept her eyes on Genevive, her expression remained fixed and unreadable.

“Genevive?” she asked, “Did you make this?” It was as if a cloud passed over her new friend’s face. The revelation of the brooch had certainly caused a reaction, not shock or surprise but something more like, fear. Suddenly, Lilian became very aware that she was alone in a large house with someone who knew their way around sharp tools and was very good at keeping secrets. Genevive’s big brown eyes looked up from the brooch and fixed Lilian with an intense glare. Lilian half expected to be shouted at or thrown out of the house in anger, judging by the darkness in Genevive’s expression. But instead of an angry tirade, a tear fell from her right eye accompanied by a sad, single word.

“Yes.”

Episode 37

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

In the north east of Freedos, on the opposite side of the extinct volcano from Leuhta quarter, there is an area called Bonneville. Most of the residents here are young people from wealthy, noble families who for one reason or other don’t want to live in their parent’s mansions anymore and want to try and make it on their own, out in the big city, just like Mummy or Daddy did. They are artists, bookshop owners, antique sellers and specialty tea makers. They are anti war, but will never be forced to fight in one, anti-authority but will go weeks without seeing Weardian. They keep to themselves and spend their days making their shops look poor with expensive materials. For all its pretension, Lilian liked Bonneville. The people had a carefree air that only came from, well, from people who were free of cares. They were not rich, but they would never truly be poor. One of the things Lilian liked most about the area was the large Stave Church buried between its brightly painted, rickety buildings. She had stumbled across it once when visiting the area with Katherine, and she returned there every now and again to visit it and think of home. The church was not as big as the one in Benlunar, but its dark wood tower still stood tall and proud. Lilian didn’t know any of the Brothers or Sisters that maintained the building or ran services but she knew that it was quiet at night and the doors were always open. That was why she, Fritha and Mr Attorcop had made their way there the night after their encounter with Bried. They needed somewhere quiet and away from prying eyes.

Lilian glanced up at the tall ceiling of the central chamber and around at the various faded murals on the walls. Religion seemed oddly absent from city life but the book of stories was on a little plinth in the corner and Lilian smiled when she recognised pictures of Liebling and Kina on the western wall.

“Please try and concentrate Lilian.” Mr Attorcop’s voice echoed around the space, despite his quiet tone.

“Sorry.” Lilian snapped her attention back to the task at hand. She reached behind her back and found the handle of Kissandra’s snake blade. She had made a strap for it so that she could wear it under her shirt and she had not let it leave her side since getting home after Bried’s little visit. Dark alleys had seemed more threatening since then, she found herself jumping at loud noises or quick movements and eyed strangers with more suspicion than before. City life was getting to her. With a twist and a click she drew the blade down and out of its sheath. It glided out in swift silence, truly the blade of an assassin.

“Good,” said Mr Attorcop, “Now kindly open the handle and extract the vial.” Lilian did as she was asked. She was nervous. Her hands were shaking as she fiddled with the fake snake scale. Fritha sniffed her leg and put a big, comforting paw on her thigh. Lilian smiled down at her. Slowly and carefully she extracted the last remaining vial of lunar essence. Its cold light fell upon the faces of the animals on the walls around her. Mr Attorcop stepped closer to her.

“There is some missing. You told me you’d never used any.” His tone was accusatory and Lilian was quick to offer the explanation.

“When Fritha was hurt, I put a few drops on her tongue. I thought it would help her recover, and it did. She looked better a few seconds after.” Mr Attorcop took the three-quarter full vial from her hands.

“Well, that is interesting. I would love to explore the connection between Fritha and the lunar essence, but that is not why we are here tonight.” With a quick flick of his thumb the vial was unstoppered. “This is the last of it. Are you ready?” Lilian took a deep breath and nodded.

For a brief moment, Lilian was back in Benlunar. Perhaps it was being in a Stave, or just the memory of the first time she saw the Lunar essence dripping off the moon and down the side of the mountain. She was back in front of the Padda Stone, basking in its beauty. She could feel the crispness of the air and the numbness in the tips of her fingers. She was back in those familiar streets, smiling at friendly faces. She was playing by the river and wandering through the woods.

“Lilian?” Mr Attorcop’s voice pulled her out of the memory. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh yes. Sorry. What do I do?” Mr Attorcop was looking down at her with a confused expression. His face was bathed in the silver light, looking just like how she remembered it when she saw him for the second time that night when the Padda Stone awakened and spoke to him.

“Lilian, you’re crying.” Lilian was taken aback.

“What?” She instinctively put her hand up to her face and felt wetness on her cheek. Strange. She thought. She didn’t feel particularly sad. Then why was she in tears?

“This is a dangerous process Lilian, I need to be sure you can have a clear head if…”

“I’m fine.” Lilian protested. “Really, don’t worry. Let’s just try it. You’re right, this is the last of it and I need to learn how to use it. I’m ready.” Mr Attorcop paused for a second. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just… It’s nothing.” Mr Attorcop slowly put the stopper back on the vial. Lilian was about to complain, about to claim again that she was ready and that she was willing to learn. She had waited all this time and this was all they had left. Anger began to rise inside her. She was fed up of being treated like a child. She was ready for this lesson, for this responsibility.

“Lilian,” Mr Attorcop spoke in a calm and steady tone. “You know who we haven’t talked about in a long time?” Lilian was taken aback by the question. It annoyed her even further.

“Who?” She snapped. Tired of this old man’s riddles.

“Kilde.” The name hit her like a brick. Of all the times and all the places to mention him.

“What? Why would you…?” Lilian’s anger boiled over. “Okay, you’re right. We haven’t. But I don’t see what that… what he has to do with what we’re doing right now.”

“I would disagree. This substance is… unforgiving. When we practise gloaming we rely on our own bodies, our own senses. The power comes from patience and practise. It comes from us. This…” He held the vial of lunar essence up high. “This is the antithesis of patience. If you’re not careful it will hijack your body and take over your mind. You need to be ready to weather the storm, to guide it to where you need it to take you. You cannot fight it, you cannot control it, but you can influence it, you can guide it. But if you’re distracted, even for a moment…” His face grew stern and serious. Lilian understood now why he had mentioned Kilde.

“You think I’m distracted by Kilde?”

“I think you have a burning desire to help people. That’s a wonderful quality to have, don’t get me wrong. But I fear that the desire is so strong that you often ignore your own personal safety and wellbeing in the process. I’ve watched you rush into darkness, run into fire, fight when outnumbered, confront danger and never think twice. I bring up Kilde because before I teach you how to use this, I need to understand something.” He looked about, trying to find the right words. It was rare to see him unsure like this. It forced Lilian to calm down. Suddenly, he looked at the stone floor and sat down, legs crossed. Lilian joined him, placing the blade down beside her. Fritha walked over from her exploration of the church and slumped down beside them. Mr Attorcop thought for a few more seconds before looking directly at her.

“Lilian. What do you think about, when you think about Kilde?” Lilian considered the question. She was about to answer quickly, she would say that she missed him, that she felt sad. But something about the question forced her to think a little harder. A pain began to appear in her throat. It grew like a lump and she felt more wetness falling down her cheeks. She had never admitted this pain to anyone, perhaps not even herself.

“It’s okay,” Mr Attorcop calmly reassured her. Giving her space to feel before talking. Fritha stirred, sensing something was wrong. Her piercing, golden eyes scanned Lilian’s tear-streaked face. She brought her big wet nose close and sniffed. Then she leant back, looked up into the rafters of the hall and let out a low and beautiful gong. Lilian smiled, recognising the sound. It comforted her to know that she had a friend who knew how she was feeling without having to tell her. She turned back to Mr Attorcop who was staring at Fritha in bemused confusion.

“Scared.” she said, “When I think of Kilde, I feel scared.” Mr Attorcop nodded.

“I know.” Lilian went on.

“I just. I couldn’t do anything. And it was so quick. One day he was fine and the next…” She paused, wiped her eyes and shrugged. She felt a little awkward talking about this. Mr Attorcop was a friend but he wasn’t really that kind of friend. They rarely talked about anything other than work or training. The language of emotions was foreign to their friendship. But he continued to nod and Lilian realised that he too was only human and so must know something of grief. He leaned over and grabbed the blade and handle that were lying on the floor. He carefully placed the vial back into the hollow handle, and then slid it back onto the blade until the catch clicked into place. He took a deep breath.

“I often feel guilty about dragging you into this world.” He stared down at the blade, the silver eyes of the snake were reflecting the low candle light, giving them a menacing glint. “I thought that teaching you the ways of the Nocta, how to fight, how to survive, would help you. And I suppose they have. But I’ve neglected to teach you something important.” Lilian sniffed loudly and wiped her nose. She looked at her mentor, staring down at the heavy weapon. “I have not taught you how to forgive.” The word hung heavy in the air. It was not a word that Lilian was particularly familiar with, that much was true. But she didn’t feel like it was Mr Attorcop’s place to teach her such a thing, that is, if forgiveness can even be taught. “It’s such an important lesson and I forget it all the time. You’ll have to forgive me, if you’ll pardon the expression. Forgiveness, real forgiveness is a gift. It is beautiful and powerful. More powerful than any knife or sorcery. It means that you truly understand that we are all human and that we make mistakes and that we don’t always do the right thing. It also means that we recognise that no matter how guilty we might feel, we are not responsible for every single thing that happens to the people around us.” Lilian considered the idea.

“Would you forgive Bried, for all she’s done?” Mr Attorcop looked up and around at the various murals and empty benches. He sighed.

“If she truly regretted her actions, committed herself to changing her ways and paid some sort of appropriate debt to the people she has hurt. Then I would have to. That does not mean I would ever forget the things she did, or the lives she and her group have destroyed. But in time I would forgive her.” He seemed surprised by the words he was saying. “I would have no other choice. Because a world without forgiveness is not one I would wish to be a part of.”

He flipped the knife in his palm, gripped the blade and offered Lilian the handle. “We’re not going to learn how to use essence tonight. Tonight we’re going to talk and we’re going to forgive ourselves. Yes?”

Lilian felt a little frustrated but understood the importance of the lesson. She reached behind her and slid the knife back into its sheath. She took a deep breath and felt the tears disappearing. Mr Attorcop smiled and said,

“Very well then. Talk.”

They left the Stave Church in Bonneville later that night and walked through the relative silence of the city. There was always something happening in Freedos so to expect the streets to be completely empty was impossible. A few people were singing outside an inn, merry with too much ale. A cat curled past them, stopping to hiss at Fritha before tip tapping into the dark. Fritha did not care for cats but thankfully ignored that particularly rude one. She loped along beside Lilian, occasionally stopping to sniff a corner or lick a puddle. Lilian smiled, she enjoyed exploring the city when it was quiet. Well, quieter. For the first time in quite a while, she felt like her problems were separate from herself. Talking to Mr Attorcop had helped a great deal, to the point where a tightness in her chest she had not even been aware of was lifted. She could breathe with ease and could see their situation with more clarity. She turned to Mr Attorcop and asked a question that suddenly occurred to her,

“Cromwell, what are we going to do?” He looked down at her, his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t have any essence. One of us is injured. We’re only a handful of people and we’re trying to, what? Overthrow a government?” She found herself laughing. She’d never actually stated their goal out loud before and it sounded ridiculous. Mr Attorcop smiled as well.

“Yes, it does seem silly. The Empress’s involvement with The Guiding Hand is an unwelcome development. But it’s a noble cause. And if anything is worth fighting for, then it’s a noble cause. I have not given up hope just yet.” He chuckled to himself. They turned a corner and found themselves entering Leuhta quarter. The cracked and faded paintwork of the Bonneville houses slowly became new colourful coats of Leuhta apartments.

Lilian imagined a world where she had stayed in Benlunar. She wondered what she would be doing right now if she had not made the choice to follow Mr Attorcop to Freedos. She would probably have learned to become a builder or decorator like her mother and father. She might even have worked on transforming parts of Benlunar into tall beautiful apartments like the ones she was walking past now. It would be a peaceful life, but she doubted she would be content with it. She would have always asked herself what the path of magic and danger would have shown her. She often felt scared, but she had never once regretted her decision. She agreed that their cause was noble. There were still a huge amount of people in this city that needed their help, and even more outside of it that would benefit from a change in regime. The idea of help reminded her of something.

“Why didn’t Zadoch help when we were fighting Bried? He looked strong, he could have at least tried to…” She stopped herself when she realised that Mr Attorcop had halted. She turned around to look back at him.

“Yes, I should have told you about him. Lilian, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Zadoch Korshid is part of a religious order. He is a Holy Solar Pater. He actually practises a similar art to what we call gloaming. Only instead of the moon, he draws his power from the sun.” Lilian approached him, his tone was making her slightly nervous. “We’ve actually learned a lot from each other over the years, he is a kind and intelligent man. Useful to have around. But… and here is where I need you to promise me something, you must never, ever, ask for his help. Do you understand?” Lilian nodded, not really sure to what she was agreeing.

“Why not?” she asked. Mr Attorcop resumed walking. Fritha reappeared from exploring a dirty doorstep and padded past them.

“It all goes back a very long time. There used to be people who would abuse his kind of power terribly. They enslaved entire nations with threats of death and destruction. By transforming the power of the sun into a religion, a small group managed to find a way to put limits on their power. One of those limits is that they cannot access the full extent of their abilities unless someone else specifically asks for their help.” Lilian was beginning to understand.

“But if you need help, and Zadoch can help, then why not ask…”

“Lilian I know you’re going to have many questions about this but you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve only seen someone ask for his help once and I never wish to see it be given again. The experience was…” Mr Attorcop paused, trying to find the right words, his skin turned a strange, pallid colour like when someone is about to be sick. He finished his sentence with the word, “frightening. I don’t particularly wish to relive it so I will just say this. Imagine you ask someone for a glass of water and they give you an entire ocean. Your needs have technically been met, but so much so that you end up with more problems than when you began. Am I making myself clear?” Lilian did not particularly enjoy being in the dark, but she had to trust Mr Attorcop. His tone was final and deadly serious. She nodded.

“Yes. I understand. So when dealing with Zadoch I’m to listen to the advice he gives freely, while never actually asking for help.” Mr Attorcop smiled.

“You learn quickly Miss Lausanne. That is exactly right. But be warned, he will constantly pester you, it’s maddening. Katrina does not have the patience for him but when he realises that you won’t give in he can be a good friend and still be helpful in a more… reserved way. By providing insight or medical aid perhaps.” Lilian looked over at Fritha. She was crouching beside a hitching post and fading out of sight, her gaze was transfixed on a rat scuttling a few feet away. Lilian allowed herself a moment of pity for the unsuspecting rodent before watching it creep too close to the unseen predator and get snaffled up in one swift explosion of movement and teeth. She did not know what Mr Attorcop had meant by the kind of help Zadoch Korshid was always offering, but she made a mental note to never ask for or accept it. They turned a corner and started heading downhill. Lilian suddenly looked up and realised where they were.

“Oh look, we’re at the top of your old road.” Mr Attorcop glanced up from focusing on his footsteps.

“So we are.” Lilian had not been here since the night they had found Fritha, injured and Mr Attorcop’s attic destroyed by The Guiding Hand. She realised that she had probably been trying to avoid it, just like she had avoided thinking about Kilde and Benlunar. Suddenly, Lilian felt a small rumble beneath her feet. She instinctively turned around, expecting to see a horse or someone pulling a cart. Instead she saw two burly men rushing towards them. They were wearing big green coats and Lilian recognised them as Weardian officers. She instantly looked about to make sure Fritha was out of sight. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen. Mr Attorcop put his hand out in front of her, pushing her to the side of the road and out of the way of the two men. They were not sprinting but were still in a great hurry to be somewhere. One of them glanced at Lilian and Mr Attorcop as they ran past. Lilian knew from experience that being out this late and being spotted by Weardian should have at least resulted in some kind of questioning, perhaps even an arrest, but thankfully they just rushed past, rumbling the cobbles as they went.

“Where are they going in such a hurry?” Lilian asked in a low voice. Mr Attorcop did not answer right away but looked after them with a curious expression. His love of mysteries would be the end of him.

“I’m not sure…” he said, “but I do very much want to find out.” He shot Lilian a look that said ‘shall we?’ and the two set off at a pace.

Fritha appeared next to Lilian and began to run alongside her. Lilian glanced down, reached into her pocket and pulled out a sour berry.

“Hide Fritha, hide!” she coupled the command with a treat and Fritha understood that she needed to disappear. Lilian shot a glance back in time to watch Fritha chewing and fading into the dark. They were coming up to where Mr Attorcop used to live and work. It was one of the many tall apartment buildings in this area, all packed together and forced skywards by the squeeze. A few of the buildings had basement level entrances and so just before they arrived within view of the attic, Mr Attorcop tugged on Lilian’s sleeve and pulled her down a set of stone steps leading down to a basement door. From here they could crouch low and observe the scene without being spotted.

Lilian hugged the cold stone and poked her head round just over the lip of the top step. About ten houses down the hill, on the other side of the road, she could see Mr Attorcop’s old door. She recognised it easily from her time spent watching out for his imposter, the man called Helmont who had taken Mr Attorcop’s place and was using his attic to sell that horrible Nightshade stuff when Lilian had first arrived in the city. Currently, the dull, unremarkable door was surrounded by tall men in big, green coats.

They looked as though they were milling around and waiting for something or someone. Occasionally another team of two would join them.

“So many…” whispered Lilian. Mr Attorcop was crouching next to her, his brow furrowed in worry.

“This cannot be good.” Lilian heard fear in his voice. Tackling Bried and her three cronies was one thing, but this many Weardian was an entirely different and far more dangerous matter. They continued to watch, growing more and more nervous with each new arrival. They spoke rarely and softly, which Lilian thought was strange. The Weardian normally made no secret of their presence or power, but the furtive looks and low voices made her think that they were acting decidedly out of character.

“What are they doing to those two there?” Mr Attorcop pointed to the depths of the small group. Lilian had to strain her neck a little to see who he was talking about. Two or three officers were surrounded by the bulk of the group. Everyone was so tight knit that Lilian couldn’t see what was happening. She shrugged. Mr Attorcop turned to her and spoke in another low whisper.

“Do you think you might be able to take a look?” Lilian smiled, she’d wondered the same thing.

“Leave it to me.” She said, “Fritha!” she raised her voice only slightly so that she could catch the attention of her faithful feinhound. Fritha appeared behind them, a little way down the steps. Lilian hadn’t even sensed her creep past. She beckoned her over and ruffled her fur. It was currently silver and black, like a panther or dangerous jungle cat. It was hard to see any falling strands in the dim light but Lilian quickly found one attached to her sleeve. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and raised her head up towards the moon. She found that gloaming always came easier at night and was thankful for the site of a bright half moon. She slipped into focus, found her golden heart light, quickly managed to get some into the hair in her hand and then took it back in less than a few minutes. She remembered just how difficult this process had been half a year ago and was thankful for the constant practise and persistent training drills from Mr Attorcop. Finally, once the last of the light had bled back into her fingers and she felt its energy coursing through the rest of her body, she opened her eyes. She bade Fritha disappear again, turned to Mr Attorcop, whispered,

“Back in a minute,” and then faded into a transpicuous shadow.

She was careful to not make too much noise as her loose fitting shoes hit the surface of the road. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest, but she was confident that no Weardian officer would be able to hear that. Even in her state of focus, distinguishing one heart from so many in a crowd would be a challenge. She approached Mr Attorcop’s door and the group of men. She heard the occasional phrase escape the crowd.

“Not like that…”

“More charcoal…”

“Just leave it, alright?” Whatever they were doing, it was secretive and detailed work. Lilian was fast approaching them but still could not see what was happening to the men in the middle of the crowd. She glanced about for inspiration. There was a wall to her left that had enough gaps in the brickwork for her to climb. She was glad of the heightened strength she got from gloaming as she was only able to get the tips of her fingers into the spaces between bricks. But it was enough. She climbed a few feet and then turned to look down on the group. The gambit had worked and she could see the three officers that were surrounded.

Her first reaction was one of worry. The men looked injured and bloodied. One had a large wound on his forehead that had leaked a streak of red down the side of his face. Their coats were ripped and frayed. Lilian’s worry quickly became intrigue however as she saw that the men surrounding them were the ones creating the wounds. One was applying a lump of coal to his comrades face and hair to make it look like he had been burned. One man held a small pot of thick red liquid that Lilian presumed was the ‘blood’ on the injured man’s face. A couple more were ripping their clothes and coats and discussing whether or not the damage looked believable enough.

“More blood on his arm I think.” One officer said in a deep voice. The rest mumbled in agreement and the smallest of the injured three received a dollop of red across his left arm.

Lilian was even more confused than before. Her fingers began to ache and so she climbed down and gracefully hopped off the wall and back onto the road. A quick look at the group told her that no one had heard the dismount and she shot back across the street towards where Mr Attorcop had been watching.

“They’re dressing them up.” Lilian whispered as she reappeared beside her friend, releasing the gloaming from her body. Mr Attorcop jumped a little at the surprise of her return. He caught himself quickly and replied.

“Dressing them?”

“Yes. Well, they’re ripping their clothes and making it look like they’ve been injured. They’ve got fake blood and everything.” She spoke with confusion in her voice, wondering if Mr Attorcop would be able to make sense of it. It appeared as though he did, because in the dim light of the moon, Lilian saw the colour drain from his face.

“We need to leave.” He began to move, putting weight on his arms and lifting himself up.

“What? Why?” asked Lilian.

“I’ll tell you when we’re safe, right now we need to be as far away from here as possible.” Lilian glanced back towards the group of Weardian.

“Someone’s coming out!” she pointed towards Mr Attorcop’s old door. A man in a similar green jacket was walking out. He had large goggles on over his forehead as if he had been working with glass or dangerous chemicals.

“Come on Lilian we need to…” Lilian was transfixed. The appearance of the man had caused the group to scatter. Some were even heading their way so she reached out just in time to pull Mr Attorcop down so as to not be seen. The only officers that remained by the door were the three that had been made to look injured. Suddenly, Lilian understood. But it was too late as just then the attic window shattered with a deafening bang. A ball of smoke and fire erupted from inside it and Lilian could only watch, helplessly, as the entire of Mr Attorcop’s old attic residence exploded.

Episode 36

The system of power turns like a wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Taziel Bried stepped forward and took her position next to her bodyguard. She was dwarfed by Deacon’s massive size but still managed to maintain an heir of superiority. She looked over the small crowd in the basement with disdain before pouting in mock disappointment.

“Did I do something wrong? Or maybe my invitation got lost in delivery, hm?” She smiled a wide and wicked grin, catching Lilian’s eye. “Oh hi hayseed! You look… redder than normal.”

“What do you want Bried?” Lilian spat her reply. She stepped out of the circle of chairs to join Mr Attorcop. She felt a large presence sidle up next to her and realised that Fritha, her fur black and big, had sensed the tension and had come to support. Lilian touched Fritha’s arched back, it was comforting to have her there. Bried was a notoriously dangerous person.

“Twelve hells you lot are boring. It’s alright, you can come down! No danger here. Just a little tea party.” She shouted up the wooden steps to the open trapdoor. Lilian glanced round to check that everyone was alright. William was standing in front of Katherine, looking serious. Katherine seemed fine but understandably nervous. Katrina and Peter Sturgeon were up and ready for anything, both of them clutching concealed implements. The only person still seated was Zadoch Korshid. Lilian caught him examining his nails as if this kind of thing happened to him everyday.

Two more people walked down the steps to join them. Lilian recognised the small woman who appeared first. She was Jack Havens, Bried’s spymaster. Finally there was the shrouded figure of Tarek Bismuth. He was the opposite of Havens in that each step clunked unceremoniously, whereas Jack had practically floated down. Bismuth was followed by his faithful hound, its ears bent back as soon as it saw Fritha. Within a minute they were all there. The atmosphere grew even more tense. Lilian kept her eyes trained on Bried. She wore a buttoned up, dark red shit. The top few buttons were open and Lilian caught site of the fierce looking bird that she had tattooed on her chest. No one spoke for a while, everyone was busy eyeing up the other group. Lilian breathed a series of deep breaths, trying her best to remain calm. Bried’s friendly looking, freckled face dropped all pretence of smiles and became a leering grimace.

“If there’s one thing I pride myself in, it’s knowing things. I would go so far as to say that nothing happens in this city without my knowing, would you say that’s true Jack?” She turned her head to address the smaller woman.

“Yes Bried.” Jack Havens kept her eyes on Lilian’s friends. The red mark around her left eye seemed to strangely glisten in the candlelight.

“Yes. Bried.” Her boss parroted. With a lightning quick movement Bried’s hand shot forward. Lilian remained still but felt that a few of her friends behind her had twitched at the motion. They were on edge. Bried was pointing a lean finger at Katrina’s son.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“That’s Peter Sturgeon. The Catfish’s son.” Bried smiled at the answer.

“You see? It’s my business to know things. So when I hear that a group of aging radicals are meeting in a dingy basement, I might ask myself, why is that?” Bried walked two steps forward towards Mr Attorcop and Lilian. Lilian could smell a musky perfume. She couldn’t see any weapons but did not think for a second that this meant that Bried wasn’t carrying any. Mr Attorcop remained silent. The moonblade was still outstretched and glistening in his right hand. There must have only been an arms length between its tip and Bried’s nose. Bried did not seem afraid. She spoke again, softer now.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. What are you lot plotting here? Hm? Tell me, now. Before my patience runs out.” Finally Mr Attorcop spoke. His voice was calm and controlled.

“For one who prides herself on knowing so much, I can see why this must be a very… frustrating situation. Might I enquire as to what would happen if we kept that information to ourselves?” Lilian saw Bried’s lip curl into a sneer.

“You know, I was hoping you might ask that. Deacon!” She shouted back to her bodyguard whilst maintaining eye contact with Mr Attorcop. Gus Deacon shifted his weight, ready to receive instructions. “Break something please.” At that, Lilian watched the lumbering mass of muscle move to the wall towards a large writing desk. It had taken both Lilian and Mr Attorcop quite some time to move it into the basement, seeing as it was made from oak and weighed a ton. But Gus Deacon wrapped his hands around both edges, picked it up and hurled it twenty feet across the room, as if it was made of matchsticks. The entire unit, contents and all, came into contact with the wall with a deafening crash. The small drawers scattered to the floor and Lilian saw a huge crack appear in the polished surface. Papers and ink bottles spilled out and the legs splintered and were reduced to kindling. Deacon stood up tall, or as tall as he could be under the low ceiling. Bried spoke quickly, her patience running thin.

“Now unless you want your old bones to meet the same fate as your desk, you’re all going to start talking, do you understand?” Mr Attorcop had barely looked at the desk and hadn’t even flinched when it hit the wall. Lilian half expected him to tell her everything. About The Hand and Lilian’s evening with the Empress. She knew that Bried would find out eventually and the threat of having her bones broken in the meantime wasn’t exactly appealing. Still, it felt wrong. Mr Attorcop apparently felt the same way.

“You know what Tazial?” he said in a low and calm voice. “I don’t think I shall tell you. In fact, I don’t think any of us will tell you anything. This might make you angry and that’s fine. But the people of Freedos are done with bullies, and we’re done with you.” Lilian’s heart began to beat quicker, she was scared but no longer intimidated. Her fear was mixed in with a peculiar thrill. It was the thrill of righteousness. She kept her eyes trained on Bried. Mr Attorcop’s words had produced smirks and low chuckles from her gang. Bried simply stared at him in incredulous rage.

“Careful Cromwell. There’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity. I might be a bully, but I’m a generous bully, so I’ll give you one more chance. I’m just nice that way, you know? One more chance to start telling me what I want to know, or we start breaking more than just desks.” Mr Attorcop stood his ground. Fritha’s jangling growling stopped. Lilian reminded herself to keep breathing. In the silence that followed Bried’s warning, a pin could have dropped to the floor two streets away and still be heard. Mr Attorcop stood up straight and tall. He crossed his arms. Lilian was reminded of whenever he reached into his sleeve for a vial of essence.

“I thank you for the generous offer. But you can take your chance and shove it back down the rat hole you crawled out of.” Lilian saw the corner of Bried’s eye twitch. It must have been a long time since anyone had spoken to her this way. “Lilian?” Mr Attorcop spoke to her while never taking his eyes off of Bried. “Do you remember that morning in The Fox and Octopus? The day we met?” Lilian quickly cast her mind back.

“I remember.” she replied. Bried was stepping back and reaching into her pocket.

“You’re going to regret this Cromwell,” she spat the words at him half smiling, her face contorting into gleeful fury. Mr Attorcop narrowed his eyes as he whispered.

“I doubt that.” And the basement was plunged into darkness.

Lilian had been ready and immediately shut her eyes and slipped into hyper focus. The dark room suddenly became alive with a thousand little lights, each one representing a different sound. There was the flurry of Mr Attorcop’s cloak and he pulled out the vial of lunar essence from his sleeve. There was Fritha’s padded footsteps as she left Lilian’s side. A big white beacon shone straight ahead where Bried was barking orders at her team. Lilian’s preparation meant that she could slip even further into focus and actually see the sound bouncing off of the walls. Bried’s shouts therefore showed her where the pieces of broken desk lay idle. She ran over to the debris and picked up a piece of broken leg. It would not be as sturdy as a sword, but it would do for now. She turned her attention back to the group. Her friends were remaining still, mostly backing away slowly. Bried’s group were scrambling to find their bearings. She saw the heavy thuds of Gus Deacon’s feet, unsure and unsteady. She saw the growls coming from the throat of Bismuth’s dog. Both it and Bismuth were still, but Lilian saw the odd sound coming from within his cloak, he was busy doing something with his hands, probably trying to counteract the sudden darkness. Mr Attorcop was flying forwards, his feet stepping lightly on the floorboards and his cloak rustling with his swift motion. Lilian watched him plant a kick right into the centre of Bried’s chest. It sent her hurtling back towards Taruk Bismuth. Lilian saw the lights of her grunting in pain and the thud as she connected with her hooded teammate. There was no time to celebrate however as bold footsteps were heading straight towards her. They didn’t look like anyone else’s steps in the room, they were striding forwards with deadly confidence. They were not the steps of a recently blinded person. Lilian brought her stick up just in time to intercept a whooshing blade. Lilian realised then who she was fighting. This was Jack Havens and for some reason, she could see in the dark.

Lilian felt like cursing, their dark advantage had not lasted long. She had no time to question how Jack was able to see in pitch black as her second blade was being swung round towards Lilian’s side. Thankfully she was able to step back and out of its way. A pained shout came from the other side of the room, but Lilian didn’t recognise the voice, so she didn’t allow herself to become distracted. Havens let loose a flurry of rapid swipes. Lilian’s training kicked in and she blocked each one as it came. She was not used to fighting in this kind of darkness so she had to focus on defense. Jack Havens sensed this and doubled her efforts, adding quick feints that might have easily thrown Lilian off if she hadn’t been focusing so much on defending.

“Bismuth!” Bried’s voice cut through the darkness, Lilian watched the echoes bounce off her opponents body, illuminating her for a second. “I’m starting to wonder why I keep you around. Get rid of this damn dark!” Bismuth replied in a slow and sickly whisper, Lilian was distracted now but would shiver at the memory of it later.

“Light is coming. This darkness is… unnatural.” There were more grunts and shouts and the clanging of metal coming from Bried’s direction. Lilian ducked an incoming slash aimed at her neck. Her brain was scrambling with what to do, she needed to create an advantage. She brought her left fist up to quickly block a right hook and suddenly remembered what she had hidden there. Earlier, when Fritha had stood beside her, Lilian had plucked a hair from her back. She still clutched it tightly in her balled up fist. Right, she thought, here goes nothing. Lilian blocked another slash from Jack and countered with a forward kick. She missed Jack’s stomach but thankfully managed to catch the top of her left leg. The blow gave Lilian the two second distance she needed to take a deep breath and fill Fritha’s hair with the golden light from her own heart. She wasn’t just in focus now, Lilian was gloaming and the world looked even more different than before. There were other shimmering lights all around the basement, other people’s heart beats shining like candles in the dusk. There was something big and bright behind her but Lilian was too distracted by her task and by what she saw in front of her. Jack Haven’s heart light was silver and scarlett, but this wasn’t what was drawing her immediate attention. In the space above it where Jack’s head would be, floating in the gloom, Lilian could see a red orb. It shimmered in the darkness and had a golden point on the front. The crimson ball twisted and flicked about in mid air in rapid, jerky motions. Lilian realised with dread that she was looking at Jack Haven’s left eye. Unfortunately she had no time to dwell on this, gloaming made the lights from the sound of movement a little dimmer so Lilian took a few steps back just to give her a bit more time. Predictably, Jack closed the gap, but those few steps were all the time that Lilian needed. Taking her light back in from Fritha’s hair she sensed her skin begin to ripple and shift. The floating red eye was flitting up and down and left to right in rapid little jumps. It was trying desperately to understand why it was losing track of its target as Lilian slowly disappeared.

A vivid green light suddenly filled the room and Lilian opened her eyes. Jack Havens had to shield her left eye from the sudden brightness. Lilian watched as the red colour seeped out of the eye itself and back into the area around it, becoming that recognisable scarlett mark once again. Jack still had both blades drawn and was looking around warily to see if Lilian had merely slipped into a blind spot. Lilian remained very still. The light itself was coming from Taruk Bismuth, he was holding a small, ugly looking object in his left hand and brandishing it like a torch. Lilian didn’t have time to see exactly what it was, but it reminded her of a small doll with strange metal spikes sticking out of its head and back. Whatever it was, it was glowing bright emerald green and washing the basement in a strange, spectral light. She looked back at her friends, everyone was still on their feet, except Zadoch, who for some reason, was still sitting down. Mr Attorcop had also vanished which meant that Bried and her associates were now turning their attention to the rest of the group. Bried was looking furious, a large red bruise was already flaring up on her left cheek. She had a small blade in her hand and turned a murderous stare towards William and Katrina.

“I’m not leaving this place until I hear a bone break. Deacon, take these two. Taruk, find Cromwell…”

Jack was backing up, keeping her blades close to her body.

“If anyone needs any help, do let me know won’t you? Cromwell? Katrina?” Zadoch shifted in his seat and spoke with a casual ease. It frustrated Lilian, she thought that if he wanted to help so much he could at least stand up. Katrina shot Zadoch a quick, mean look.

“We don’t need your help Zadoch. Just stay out of it, Peter. On my mark.” Peter nodded and readied himself.

The brief hiatus in action was broken when Bried shot forward, bathed in shimmering green and began slashing at Katrina with her knife. Katrina managed to dodge the first few slashes but a quick gasp told Lilian that one had gotten through. Bried flashed a sinister smile as Katrina clutched her left forearm, a trickle of red already seeping through her sleeve. Gus Deacon was lumbering as quickly as he could towards William who was standing ready for him. He was a brave man, because he may as well have been holding his ground against a herd of horses. Katherine was stepping to the back of the room, towards the strange little door that Lilian and Mr Attorcop had still not managed to open. She had fear in her eyes and seemed torn between warning William to be careful and not wanting to distract him. Deacon swung a boulder fist at William’s temple. Thankfully, the man’s size meant his speed was limited, William was narrowly able to duck under the swing and deliver a swift hook to Deacon’s side. It looked as though William was putting his whole weight behind the punch, but Deacon barely flinched upon its impact. Lilian took advantage of the chaos to duck slowly around Jack and tap the back of her right shoulder with the table leg she had picked up, which thankfully also seemed to be taking on the appearance of her surroundings. Jack twisted quickly which gave Lilian a window to kick her left foot out from under her, causing her to fall to one knee. Lilian took advantage of the gap in Jack’s defence to drive her knee into Jack’s left eye. She recognised it as a source of potential power, so it had to be targeted. The impact sent a shock through Lilian’s knee, but the yelping sound coming from Jack told her the pain was much worse for her. Lilian allowed herself to glance over at Bried and Deacon. Deacon was still locking horns with William who was slowly trying to wear the monster man down. Lilian was thankful for the low ceiling, in an open space, even an experienced fighter would have had a difficult time. Bried was closing in for the killing blow, dancing from foot to foot, in her element and relishing the fight. Her famed cruelty was on full display and Lilian’s heart sank when she saw her flash forwards, into Katrina’s blind spot, whirl round, feint a quick kick and rush in to stab her stomach on the off beat. Katrina was not a practised hand to hand fighter, and her son was too busy focusing on Deacon to notice what was happening. Lilian brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. Jack Havens was reeling on the floor, clutching her eye. Bried flashed a final smile and drove her right arm forward…

But it did not move. Some unseen thing was keeping it back, preventing the knife from finding its mark. Bried looked down at her arm in shock. Her confusion turned quickly into understanding.

“There you are Cromwell…” she uttered before wrenching her arm free, whirling round and slashing blindly at the empty air. Katrina was now able to turn her attention away from Bried for a moment and shout a command at her son.

“Now Peter!” both of them flicked their arms out in the direction of Gus Deacon. It looked as though they were throwing something, but Lilian didn’t see anything leave their outstretched hands. She turned to look at Deacon, who momentarily stopped trying to attack William and winced at something on his neck. He twisted his head and brought his arms up to feel what was there. Lilian saw three needles, thinner than pins, glinting in the green light sticking out of the side of his neck. At first he seemed simply irritated but then he began to blink and roll his eyes. His hand went to his head instead of his neck and adjusting his balance became awkward and clumsy.

Lilian reminded herself to keep her attention on her own target instead of worrying about everyone else. She turned back to Jack Havens who she assumed was still reeling from the knee to her face, only to catch her reaching into a pocket on her brown trousers and gripping he fist around some unknown object. Lilian stepped round her opponent, waiting to adapt her guard to whatever she was pulling out of her pocket. To her surprise, when Jack’s fist reappeared it seemed empty, but when she brought it up to her mouth, opened her hand and blew, Lilian was quickly surrounded by a cloud of white powder. Her gloaming camouflage must have had difficulty reacting to the change in the air because as soon as Lilian blinked the powder out of her eyes she saw Jack looking directly at her. Lilian had to rely on her instinctive flinching to block her incoming attack. She had her arms up in panic, but the attack never came. Much like Bried had reacted only seconds earlier, Jack was staring at her left arm in confusion as some unknown, unseen entity was holding it back. Lilian heard a jangling growl coming from the spot where Jack’s arm was being held in place and smiled, Fritha was protecting her. Lilian did not hesitate and took full advantage of the interruption by bringing her table leg to her left side and whipping it round in a devastating back hand swing. It connected with Jack’s temple and Bried’s spymaster crumpled to the floor in a useless heap.

Lilian tasted victory and, now visible and covered in powder, turned to see how she could help with the rest of the fight. Bried had copied her compatriot and flung a handful of sawdust into the air to see where it stuck or moved unnaturally. This was giving her and Taruk a fair idea of where Mr Attorcop was stepping, but he was a skilled fighter and so was managing to hold them off. Bismuth’s black dog was barking and making a nuisance of itself. It wanted to help its master but didn’t understand where it was supposed to be attacking so it just barked and barked. Lilian glanced over at William and Katherine. They were safe and together but Katherine still looked shaken. Gus Deacon had dropped to one knee and was still rubbing his eyes as if he had a particularly bad and sudden headache. Katrina and Peter were looking at him in astonishment. Lilian would learn later that they had given him enough sedative to down a horse, yet still he moved. It didn’t look as though Deacon was an immediate threat so Lilian took a step towards William with the hope of going over to protect Katherine if the need arose. She felt Fritha’s weight against her right leg. She’d taken her eyes off Deacon for less than a second before she saw Katherine’s face contort in fear.

“Lilian! Watch out!” Lilian jerked her head to see where she was pointing and only narrowly managed to duck under Gus Deacon’s left fist. He was standing and stumbling but even in that state he posed a threat. William rushed over, his head forward and low, he was attempting to tackle Deacon to the ground, and would need all of his weight and a lot of speed to succeed. Lilian tried to shout a warning. The first punch had been too easy to dodge under, it didn’t have the force behind it to be a knockout blow, which meant that it had to be a feint… Lilian realised too slowly.

“William wait!” she screamed. But it was no use. Deacon had suspected him to rush in and as soon as he was within range, the brick house of a man shifted his weight and brought his left arm out and round in a wide backhanded swing. It caught William mid run. The force knocked him clean off his feet and sent him flying towards the wall of the basement which he hit with a sickening crunch.

“William!” Katherine screamed in terror as William fell to the floor in a heap. Her shout echoed in Lilian’s head as her heart sank, fearing the worst. The rest of the room seemed to get quieter as well, Lilian saw a bit of movement out of the corner of her left eye and realised the Jack Havens was slowly getting to her feet.

“Hahaaaaha, you see? Cromwell? You see what you get? It’s all talk and a bit of smoke and mirrors but one big hit and you’re out of action.” Lilian looked over to where Bried was speaking. Mr Attorcop had materialised fully now and had put himself in between Bried and William. He had a fierce look in his eye but was still managing to maintain his fabled composure. Bried, emboldened by William’s defeat, took a step closer to him and spoke in a low voice. “Your faith in ineptitude is your weakness .” Mr Attorcop met her glare,

“Your reliance on violence is yours.” Bried sneered at him and began to walk back towards the wooden steps. The green light was fading and the warm glow of the remaining, undisturbed candles was slowly coming back. Gus Deacon, still clutching his head, wobbled towards her, as did Jack Havens. The group began to leave one by one through the hole in the ceiling. Bried looked back and smiled at the wreckage and injuries she and her associates had wrought.

“I’ll leave you all with a bit of free advice, next time I ask for something, just give it to me. Okay? While I do enjoy a fight, I’d rather not waste my time on silly tricks and have-a-go-heroes.” With a final smile she disappeared through the cellar trap leaving the room sullen and quiet.

Katherine and Katrina both rushed over to William. Lilian saw him shift and groan slightly. She breathed a sigh of relief. Zadoch finally stood up from his seat, and looked over curiously. Katrina, turned to her son.

“His shoulder is out and the forearm is broken.”

“I’ll fetch a splint.” he replied quickly and instantly began to search the floor for a suitable length of wood. Lilian was feeling useless. She turned to Mr Attorcop who was sporting a satisfied smile.

“I thought that went rather well.” Lilian was confused. Katherine looked up in disbelief, her eyes were stained red with tears.

“Well?” she spat, “You started a fight without telling us and somehow plunged the room into darkness. We were all in danger and William could have died!” William looked like he was about to say something but Katrina used the distraction to pull and twist his right arm, popping his dislocated shoulder back into place in one swift movement. He drew in a quick breath but then seemed pleasantly surprised. Katherine was standing now and continued her tirade against Mr Attorcop.

“How dare you be so reckless with our safety?” Mr Attorcop stopped smiling and appeared suitably chastised.

“Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right of course. I made a calculation in the instant and concluded that the odds were in our favour. But perhaps my emotions clouded my judgement somewhat. I really don’t like that woman.” Katherine threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Well if we all just beat up people we don’t like, then how are we any better than them, hm?” She pointed at the trapdoor where Bried had just left. Mr Attorcop looked at the ground, ashamed. Katherine appeared to be revving up for another accusatory speech, when William cut her off.

“It’s okay, Katherine. I knew the risks and I’m just as fed up of Bried going around intimidating everyone into doing what she wants. I’m glad we fought. It’s about time someone did.” Katherine looked betrayed, torn between worry and blame.

“Yes but…” she stumbled on her words, “If that man hadn’t been drugged, if he’d hit you properly.” She didn’t dare finish her sentence. William attempted a pained chuckle.

“Ha… It sure feels like he did hit me properly. But I know what you mean. But I’ll survive. And for what it’s worth, I think we won.” Katherine rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration at William’s ridiculous grin. Zadoch stepped forward and spoke up.

“It’s true. You injured them quite a bit more than they injured you. Her talk at the end was all bluster. They would not have left if they thought they could beat you. And you have no need to fear. If I thought any real harm would have come to anyone, I would have stepped in.” Lilian felt a pang of rage appear in the pit of her stomach.

“He’s broken his arm!” she shouted at Zadoch, “Does that not constitute ‘real harm’ to you?” Zadoch moved towards the wooden steps.

“Alas I am bound by the rules of my religion. But to answer your question young lady, no. When I say real harm what I mean to say is… fatal harm.” He gave Lilian a slight bow. She was not satisfied with his response and still questioned why he was even here in the first place. Mr Attorcop stepped forward.

“I think we’re all understandably shaken up. It might not seem like it, but today was a victory. I think we…” He cut himself off after crossing his arms and placing one hand into his sleeve as he always did when he relaxed. He withdrew his hand and looked down at it and an expression of terrible sorrow, fell across his face. Lilian looked down to see the reason for it and spotted a few shards of broken glass in Mr Attorcop’s hand. The glass sparkled in the candlelight and was washed in a bright, luminous liquid which was quickly losing its shine. Mr Attorcop had been too busy speaking of victory to realise that they’d suffered a devastating loss. The last of his lunar essence, was gone.

Episode 35

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

The day after the Summer Ball was thankfully cooler than the days that had preceded it. Traditionally the ball marked the end of Summer and so this seemed oddly appropriate. It was as if even the seasons themselves were also subject to the will and whims of Empress Sylvia. Lilian had woken early and gone to work. Her feet ached from so much standing around in unfamiliar shoes the night before. The few green leafed trees inside the city walls were starting to show signs of turning. Patches of yellow and caramel brown dotted Lilian’s journey to The Gilded Garden. Mr Twitchett was in a good mood and Lilian longed to tell him all about her encounter with the Empress, but she knew better than to get him involved. The fewer friends she had mixed up in that strange and dangerous world, the better. They talked of travel, of his son’s work in Zandt and how Doma had apparently been a popular tourist destination in his youth, but since the revolution there, no one from Freedos ever went. Lilian swept the floors and dusted the displays. At mid-morning she was sent to collect a sack of cedar dust from the market and when she returned she found that Mr Attorcop had visited the shop in her absence. 

“That bald, bearded fellow you know stopped by.” said Mr Twitchett, taking the heavy, hessian sack from Lilian.

“Oh? Did he leave a message?” Lilian could hardly wait to tell Mr Attorcop all about the party.

“Yes, he said to go to the basement for seventh bell.” Lilian smiled and set about replacing various tools in the back room of the shop. She found herself rushing her various tasks eager for the workday to be over and hopeful that Mr Twitchett might let her go early if she was quick. At one point, she slammed a draw filled with razor knives and looked up to check if Mr Twitchett needed help with anything. He was sitting on the old armchair behind the shop’s service table, gazing distractedly into the middle distance. Lilian had to crane her neck round the door leading to the back room to see him. He was an older man but he was unusually active for someone his age. It was strange then to see him sitting so still. Lilian felt a pang of worry.

“Mr Twitchett?” she asked, approaching him slowly. He didn’t seem to notice her at first so she stepped closer. “Are you alright sir?” This caught his attention and he snapped out of his daydream and looked at Lilian.

“Hm? Oh. Yes, yes. Quite alright. It’s just… a funny feeling.” Lilian was curious. Their relationship had always been one of courteous professionalism, but she sensed he had something heavy weighing on his heart. 

Lilian dipped into the back room and poured him a cup of tea. His favourite was the infusion of lemongrass with just a drop of honey. She placed the clay mug in front of him and he muttered his thanks. The movement of the steam and swirling of the liquid seemed to send him back into a memory. Lilian waited patiently, knowing that he was nearly ready to speak. He took a sip of tea, smiled and started to talk. 

“I was a young man when the emperor died. The months leading up to it were… difficult. People were stretched to breaking, tired, overworked, underpaid. Fights broke out regularly and he did nothing to stop them. Your friend, what is it? Attorcop. He was there too. I didn’t know him, I suppose I still don’t but I remember his face. He was a fighter. Him and that Checkad woman. Something about seeing him today, the atmosphere outside this morning. It all feels so... familiar. Like I’m twenty-seven again and change is in the air.” Lilian waited, unsure of what to say. Mr Twitchett had gone back to staring out of the window. 

“Change can be a good thing.” She said, hoping to restart the conversation. 

“Hm? Oh yes, yes. It can be. But change is often difficult. We grow old and begin to ache. We try to find happiness and encounter heartbreak. For clay to become a cup, it must first be bashed and contorted and then forced into a furnace. One does not fear the result of change, one fears the process.” Lilian looked up at the shop filled with silent staring birds and beasts, perfectly preserved and unchanging. 

By the time he finished his tea Mr Twitchett was back to his normal self, muttering nonsense and shuffling around his shop. The rest of the day passed by without any more musings on the past. Lilian thought about asking him questions but his brief trip down memory lane seemed to have been quite upsetting so she didn’t want to bother him with trying to recall any more details. Besides, it was almost fifth bell and Lilian was almost off work for the day. 

After eating a hearty meal of beef and dumpling stew in the inn round the corner from work Lilian made her way towards Mr Twitchett’s basement storage building to meet Mr Attorcop. They had spent the past couple of weeks cleaning and converting the basement into a livable workshop where Mr Attorcop could continue his research away from his attic residence. Lilian assumed he would eventually go back to the attic, but for now it was still too dangerous, having been the scene of an intrusion, destruction and assault on Fritha a little less than a month ago.

She walked into the dark, tin roofed structure and found the trapdoor. She was eating a sticky, cinnamon bun she had bought from Winnie’s bakery on her way over and so used her free hand to grip the iron ring set into the floor and pull it up. The warm glow of candlelight spilled out from the hole and Lilian gingerly descended the rickety steps, shutting the trap behind her as she did. She ducked her head and peaked into the large room. To her surprise there were quite a few faces that turned to greet her. The first she saw was that of Mr Attorcop who smiled when he saw her. A happy, jangling sound came from behind him and Fritha emerged and ran towards her. 

“Hello lady!” Lilian squealed in delight as she was nearly bowled over by the feinhound’s massive body. Fritha cycled between bright purple and sunshine yellow, her coat expressing the joy that words could not. Lilian felt her big tongue lash her cheek and giggled as she tried to calm her furry friend. It took a bit of cinnamon bun to distract Fritha enough for Lilian to greet the other people in the basement. 

“Lilian, you remember Katrina.” Mr Attorcop, gestured to a tall, red-haired woman sitting on an ornate wooden chair. She smiled and nodded.

“Hello again my dear. Hair looks lovely.”

“I tried the stuff you gave me!” replied Lilian as she walked over to the group from the steps. 

“I can see!” 

“Hi Peter!” Lilian noticed Katrina’s son sitting by his mother’s side. He wore a brown waistcoat with a dried pink rose in the lapel. He raised himself slightly off his chair and performed a small bow before sitting back down.

“Miss.” Lilian thought the act rather formal, but was happy to see him there. 

She looked around the small circle of chairs. Her friend Katherine was there smiling sweetly and dressed in a light blue dress. She was sitting next to William whose hands were stained with ink, no doubt from the printing press where he worked. He gave her a small wave and Lilian smiled, happy to see him. 

“It’s so lovely to see you all!” said Lilian, beaming and brimming with excitement. 

“Well we’re happy to see you too!” said Katherine. “How are you? How was the party?” Lilian was about to take a seat and answer her question when Mr Attorcop put his hand up to stop her. 

“Just a moment, Lilian. Before you start, we’re waiting on one more person.” Lilian looked back to Katherine who shrugged her shoulders. 

“Oh don’t tell me…” Katrina’s face fell as she spoke. She was wearing pearls around her neck and bangled earrings that shook when she turned her head. She was as glamorous as when Lilian had first met her in the rare flower market. “Cromwell, I thought he was back in Zandt.”

“He was.” Mr Attorcop replied, “But it appears as though he’s back. I ran into him a few days ago. Or, more accurately, he ran into me.” Lilian went to take a seat next to Katherine who shot her a sly wink, equally in the dark as to who it was who was supposed to be joining them. Lilian raised her hand to take a bite of her bun but found nothing there to bite. She shot Fritha an accusing stare. The feinhound licked her lips and pointedly avoided meeting her eye. 

Just then there were three loud knocks. They came from the trapdoor and boomed throughout the basement. 

“Oh here we go.” muttered Katrina. Lilian detected a weary groan in her voice. 

“Please be civil Kat.” 

“I’ll be civil if he isn’t such an…” Her argument was cut off by the sound of the trapdoor opening. Its hinges squeaked and Lilian looked over to see a beam of light from the outside pierce the relative darkness of the basement. Strange. She thought, I don’t remember it being that bright out. The golden beam picked up flecks of dust in the air, making them sparkle in the light like little daytime stars. A voice drifted down the stairs. It was as enthusiastic and bright as the light that heralded it. 

“Hello? Is there anybody there? Little rabbits, hiding in a hole?” Lilian saw a pair of black leather boots with a thick wooden wedge heel appear at the top of the steps. 

“We’re here, Zadoch, come down and shut the trap behind you please.” Mr Attorcop addressed the boots. His request was met with a frilly laugh and the squeak of the trapdoor hinges. The boots became legs dressed in white cotton, they then led up to the tails of a white coat with gold trimming and bright buttons. Finally the smiling face of a man appeared. He was roughly the same age as Mr Attorcop and had tanned skin and sandy hair. His most striking feature however were his eyes. Lilian could not see their exact colour from this distance but they were bright and seemed to sparkle. What was stranger however was despite the sound of the trapdoor closing behind him, the amount of light in the room remained the same as when it had been opened. 

“Well hello little rabbits. Just like you Cromwell to find the darkest hole in Freedos in which to hide. It’s a beautiful day out, why don’t we step into the sun?” His voice had a vibrant quality to it. 

“In good time, please join us in the circle for now.” Mr Attorcop gestured for the man to cross the space and join the group. He seemed hesitant. Glancing back up the stairs to the trapdoor now and again as he made the journey. 

“Silly hidey-holes. I care not for this dark dampness. Little rabbits. Let me look at you. Ah! A fish is amongst the rabbits! What a strange and wonderful sight to see.” The man called Zadoch looked at Katrina when he mentioned the fish. The comment produced a wry smile from her.

“Hello Zadoch, it’s been a while. I see you’ve become a pater.” The man glanced down at his official looking coat, Lilian could see a symbol stitched in gold thread on the breast pocket. It was a blazing sun, sewn in intricate detail.

“Ah yes!” he responded, “The Church saw fit to promote me. Years of faithful service finally recognised.” His eyes darted around the circle. “Your boy Peter! All grown up and clever like his mother. And who are these little rabbits?” Mr Attorcop took on the introduction duties.

“Zadoch, this is William Lincoln and Katherine Brown.” They both smiled and waved as the man bowed deeply whilst flicking and flourishing his right hand in looping circles until it touched the floor. 

“Salutations young ones.” Mr Attorcop then gestured to Lilian.

“And this is Lilian Lausanne. Everyone, meet Zadoch Korshid.” The man turned to look at Lilian. As he approached she could see small flecks of brilliance in his eyes. They were not just bright, something in them was reflecting the light. Like small flecks of gold in a stone. 

“Ah,” he said, “the little moon madame. I hope this old goat is not treating you too harshly. All that sitting around in the dark, don’t forget to enjoy the sunshine every now and again hm?” The man grinned slyly and Lilian smiled.

“That’s alright, I quite enjoy sitting in the dark.” The man made a show of rolling his eyes and tutting jokingly.

“Of course you do. Now it’s always a pleasure to meet Cromwell’s friends but I’m assuming that is not the only reason I am here. Hm? Who needs my help?”

“No one Zadoch, we are not asking for your help, I want that to be very clear from the start.” Lilian wondered why Mr Attorcop had cut off his friend so harshly, surely he was just being friendly? Zadoch whipped his white coat tails out from under him and sat down.

“How very boring,” he said, almost to himself. “I can already tell this meeting is going to be a barrel of laughs.” Katrina interjected,

“If you don’t like it, feel free to leave.” 

“Enough, you two.” Mr Attorcop’s tone was stern, like that of a scolding school master. Zadoch stuck his tongue out at Katrina and Lilian got the distinct impression that these three had known each other for a very long time. 

Now that everyone was gathered, attention turned to Mr Attorcop. He pulled up a rickety wooden chair and sat down. 

“As most of you know, last night was the summer ball up at the palace. Our friend Lilian here managed to receive an invitation. This was fortuitous as we’ve been investigating the court houses, believing them to be the home of the blacksmith who makes these brooches.” He pulled out the silver hand and held it up for the group to see. There were creaks of wood on wood as a couple of people pulled their chairs closer to have a look. Katrina held out her hand.

“May I see that?” Mr Attorcop handed it to her and continued.

“The reason for the investigation is that we have found or seen these brooches in several different situations over the past year, all of them bad. That one was left on the floor of my attic after a break in. The attackers stole several vials of Lunar essence and some bottles of a horrible substance called nightshade, which I care less about. The worst crime was the injuries inflicted on our furry friend over there.” He gestured to Fritha who had found a soft carpet a few feet behind Lilian and was currently lying down, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

“My skies,” muttered Zadoc, “Is that…?”

“A feinhound. Yes. It became quite attached to Lilian in Benlunar and followed us on our journey to Freedos. I do not know why someone wanted to harm her. I’m hoping these brooches are the breadcrumbs that will lead us to the answer.” Katrina had passed the silver hand to her son who was currently inspecting it.

“It’s intricate work. You say there are many like this?” His voice was high pitched and friendly, just as Lilian had remembered it. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr Attorcop replied. “And I don’t think they’re from a mould. We have two in our position and there are too many slight differences. Besides, if they are made in secret, a mould would be a loose end.” Finally, he turned to Lilian who had been itching to speak since the meeting started. “Lilian, I’m glad to see you safe. Tell us, did you manage to find anything useful?” 

Lilian started her story from the second she said goodbye to Mr Attorcop at the palace gates and she did not stop talking until she explained what Genevive had said when they had parted. By the time the tale was over the sun had set. Lilian took a long swig from Katherine’s water skin and glanced at one of the small windows at the top of the basement wall. She could see the starry night sky and thought it strange that it hadn’t gotten any darker inside. 

“So, you think this Katz woman makes the brooches?” It was William who broke the silence first. Lilian shrugged.

“It could be! She certainly has the skill. You should have seen her costume! All silver, jewels and boiled leather, like a flipsy knight.” She turned to Mr Attorcop to gauge his reaction. He was staring intently at the floor, seemingly fascinated by some piece of dirt or crack in the wood, clearly deep in thought. Several of the others began to offer their opinions.

“Did you mention the brooches or the guiding hand?” asked Katherine. Lilian shook her head.

“No, I didn’t want to scare her off. We arranged to meet in a couple of days, I can ask her then.” 

“Who was that fellow with the cane? The one you saw wearing one of the brooches?” asked Katrina. Lilian shrugged.

“He never gave a name. But he stayed close by the entire time I was with the Empress. He also wore a mask, but that wasn’t unusual, most of the palace staff were wearing them.” There was a silence whilst the group considered Lilian’s responses. Finally Mr Attorcop stirred and came out of his contemplative trance. He addressed the group.

“We’re asking the wrong questions.” He said. Lilian smiled. Mr Attorcop fixed her with a cold stare and said,

“What we should be asking is…” Lilian finished his sentence for him.

“What does The Empress want with Fritha?” He nodded sagely, proud of his student. Lilian looked around at the furrowed brows and confused expressions on the rest of the group. Katherine shrugged when Lilian caught her eye. The only person who didn’t look deep in thought was Zadoch. 

“Oh that’s the easy part.” He spoke, off handedly, inspecting a piece of grime under one of his finger nails. The rest of the group looked at him. Lilian saw Katrina frown. When he failed to elaborate Mr Attorcop nearly lost his patience. 

“Please then, Zadoch. Won’t you enlighten us.” Zadoch’s eyes flared as he shot Attorcop a wicked smile. 

“An excellent choice of words Cromwell. Yes, let us shine the light on this little conundrum. Had it been any other leader I would have been equally flummoxed by the request, but Empress Sylvia is not just any... other... leader. Her power was not god given, or inherited. It was earned. She worked for her place in that palace.” Katrina scoffed.

“By marrying the old emperor, yes that must have been quite hard work.” Zadoch whipped round to look at her, shining the spotlight on her dark red curls.

“In all his years the emperor never married and he never bore an heir. If you think getting him to agree to find a wife in his old age was easy then you are mistaken. Empress Sylvia worked for that marriage and then when he died she had to work to keep her place. Why didn’t we find another emperor? Why didn’t the position go to his brother? Hm? That was her doing. She worked then and she works now every day to keep her place in the seat of power.” He paused for a second, allowing Katherine time to ask him something.

“It sounds like you admire her.” Zadoch looked at her.

“Oh I do madam. I may not agree with her choices, but I would admire anyone who works as hard at anything in the way she works at cunning, manipulation and politics. This is why I say her interest in the hound is obvious. She is human and she is bored of working. She is growing older and no longer wishes to constantly have to defend her position. She is looking for a means of securing her place. She wishes to be seen as more than merely human. With a creature such as that by her side, who could question her divine right to rule?”

There was another silence whilst the group considered this. Lilian looked back at Fritha. She felt a cold knot of anger forming in the pit of her stomach. Fritha was not a prop or some tool the Empress could use to impress people. She was her friend. A thought suddenly occurred to her.

“But if she wants Fritha, then why try to kill her?” At this it was William who offered an explanation. 

“I’ve been thinking about that as well. I’m not sure she did want to kill her. Think about it, if someone walked into your room and tried to steal your things, what would Fritha do?” Lilian nearly laughed.

“She would probably hurt them quite badly.” 

“Exactly. I think the goal of that night was the theft and Fritha just sort of… got in the way.” Mr Attorcop nodded in understanding. 

“I think you might be right about that.” Lilian suddenly remembered something else and almost jumped out of her seat at the realisation.

“The man! The one with the mask and the cane, he had a wound on his arm that looked like bite marks. I’ll bet he was there, Fritha probably bit him when she saw him trying to steal the vials.” Peter stirred in his chair and responded to the theory.

“So maybe that wasn’t the Empress trying to kill Fritha, it was how she learned she existed.” His mother proffered caution.

“We can’t be sure that was under the orders of the Empress. The man with the cane could have been acting alone.” Mr Attorcop breathed in and let out a deep sigh.

“It seems as though all signs point to this man. Lilian if you are willing to ask your new noble friend about him then we might be able to find out more that way.” Lilian was about to readily agree when Katherine interrupted the proceedings.

“Hold on hold on. I’m sorry. If this ‘guiding hand’ lot are as dangerous as you say and if they have some connection with the empress then why are we getting involved? And why send Lilian?” Lilian piped up.

“I don’t mind going. Genevive is very nice, I don’t think she’s part of the hand.” 

“You don’t know that my love.” Katherine responded. Lilian felt her cheeks redden. How could Katherine be saying this? She had been there when they found Fritha half dead, she of all people should know how important this is. Katherine sensed Lilian’s growing frustration.

“I know you want to go after the people that hurt Fritha, but is revenge really the best motivation? Fritha is healed, why not leave the city for a while?” Lilian didn’t have an answer for this. Thankfully, Mr Attorcop did.

“If last night had gone differently I would be inclined to agree with you Mrs Brown. But the Empress asked for Lilian personally, she expressed her desire to see her again. If we think that Lilian will simply be allowed to leave and get on with her life then we are fools. Empress Sylvia gets what she wants. We would do better to try and navigate the rocks in the river rather than get out of the boat.” There was a resigned silence. Lilian realised that Katherine was only looking out for her safety, but she still did not enjoy being told what she could or could not do. Not by her friends, and certainly not by an Empress who’s every request came with the implication of threats and menace no matter how kindly it was put. 

Suddenly, there was a shout and a flurry of cloak and movement. Lilian looked up to see Mr Attorcop standing up quickly, he gripped the back of his chair and threw it back and out of the circle. It clattered to the floor, causing several people to wince and Fritha to wake up and look around, startled. Lilian’s heart began to beat quickly, she had never seen Mr Attorcop lose his temper like this. Not even when she had failed to block his attacks a hundred times during training, he had always kept his composure. He was pacing up and down now, running his hands across his head. No one spoke. The bigger picture was slowly revealing itself to Lilian. There was nowhere they could go where they would not be found, no move they could make that would not be countered. They were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Lilian had been too focused on the details before, but Mr Attorcop’s reaction to the whole situation had forced her to see the woods for the trees. The Empress controlled the law, the streets, the banks, the roads, the public perception, the very mood of the city. They were foxes fighting individual claws, unable to step far enough back to see the bear that was wielding them. A cold, sick feeling entered the pit of Lilian’s stomach. 

It was Zadoch who broke the silence. 

“This is all starting to feel very… familiar.” His words hung in the air. He looked over at Katrina whose face was a picture of melancholy. Mr Attorcop took in a deep breath and turned back to the group. 

“Yes. Yes it is. Which is why we are not going to be making the same mistakes as last time. First of all, I will say that if any of you wish to leave at this point, you will not be judged. Lilian and I can handle this on our own. We will protect Fritha as best we can whilst trying to stay safe and out of trouble.” He directed this last point directly to Lilian, who rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly. Mr Attorcop turned to the others, “Thank you for your time this evening, but this is all too dangerous now. Even just meeting in this way could be construed as sedition. Please, take care of yourselves and we will see you when all this business has blown over.” He stuck his hand out and pointed to the trap door. Lilian was beginning to feel sad. The sadness faded somewhat though when she saw that no one was standing up. William shifted in his seat. 

“I wish no offence when I say this sir, but you can put that idea in the bin.”

“Here here,” said Peter. Lilian smiled and caught Katherine’s eye. She gave her a wide grin. She turned back to Mr Attorcop and thought she saw a small smile appear within the folds of his beard. 

“This is a dangerous…” He began to speak, but Katrina cut him off.

“Yes yes, dangerous world, don’t take risks lightly we’ve heard it all before Cromwell. And may I remind you that we’re all quite a bit older now, we have learned much these past years and we have help now.” She gestured to the younger members of the group. Her tone grew serious, “We can do this. This time, we have a real chance.” Lilian felt a shift in the air. A sense of long forgotten ghosts coming back for a final haunting. There was a word or phrase that everyone had in their heads, but no one dared to speak aloud. Lilian had sensed it that morning when she walked to work, Mr Twitchett had felt it too. The seeds of discontent had been planted years ago. Finally the fruit of anger had grown in the heat of the summer and now the crop of revolution was ripe and ready to reap. Mr Attorcop nodded.

“Very well,” he said, “then let us change the world.” 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

There was a knock at the trapdoor. Seconds ago, Lilian had felt like celebrating but now she was glancing around the small circle in panic. Everyone looked just as clueless as she was. 

“Who is that?” said Katherine in a whisper. Mr Attorcop’s brow furrowed in suspicion. Suddenly the trap door creaked open. Within two seconds, everyone was up on their feet. The sound of chair legs scraping on wood filled the air. William stepped in front of Katherine, Katrina reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, sharp looking object that Lilian thought might be a knife. Mr Attorcop had the moonblade in his hand raised and ready in a flash of silver. The only person who was still seated was Zadoch who merely gazed up at the commotion with curiosity, as if someone had just done a particulary strange sounding sneeze. Lilian kept her eyes on the trap door. A huge pair of boots were making their way down the steps through the hole in the ceiling. The legs that followed were thick as tree trunks and Lilian’s stomach lurched in realisation. A beast of a man, two heads taller than anyone else in the room appeared on the stairs. Each step made the rickety steps creak in pain.

Deacon. Thought Lilian. And if he’s here, then that means…

Sure enough, seconds later Lilian’s suspicions were confirmed. As Gus Deacon took his place at the bottom of the stairs, crouching slightly to stand guard, a second figure appeared. 

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The hoarse voice of a woman drifted unwelcome into Lilian’s ears. “Some kind of party?” it said. A sleek and despicable form snaked its way slowly down into the basement. 

“Oh Cromwell, I do hate not being invited to parties.” Lilian looked back at Mr Attorcop. His eyes narrowed in loathing. 

“Hello Bried.”

Episode 34

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian tried to speak but no words left her mouth. She had been struck dumb by the sentence that she had just heard. Her brain was scrambling to make sense of it even now. In an effort to avoid pinching herself or going mad, Lilian reviewed the situation in her head.

She was in the royal palace at the top of the extinct volcano on which the city of Freedos was built. She had been invited here to attend the Summer Ball. The invitation had mysteriously ended up in her small room on Vulpes Road and requested her presence specifically. When she had arrived at the ball however she was whisked away from the crowds in the main hall by a man in a mask who walked with a cane. He had taken her up a guarded staircase to a private balcony and he was still standing at the back at that moment, watching everything unfold. Lilian assumed him to be some sort of bodyguard for seconds later an elegant, smiling woman appeared in a costly but simple jade gown. She was followed by a second woman, dressed in black, who was carrying several sheets of paper. The first woman had sat down opposite Lilian and introduced herself as Empress Sylvia. Had Lilian heard her correctly? Surely she couldn’t really be…

“When the Empress speaks to you, you will kindly answer her.” Lilian looked past the Empress at the woman in black. Her words and smile had been friendly enough, but Lilian detected a hint of menace behind her cordial facade. Lilian had to snap herself back to the present moment or else embarrass herself in front of royalty. She wasn’t dreaming, this was really happening. Suddenly all of Mr Attorcop’s lessons in etiquette came flooding back to her. She would have to deftly employ each one if she were to navigate this meeting successfully. How does one address an Empress? She thought. Ah yes.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I’m overwhelmed by this wonderful party. Yes, I am Lilian Lausanne.” Lilian closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly in deference. The Empress’ smile returned.

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance. Now it is I who must apologise for dragging you away from the festivities.” Lilian knew from her lessons that she needed to constantly be putting herself on a lower level. The Empress had just apologised, meaning that she could not be seen to acknowledge the fault.

“Not at all Your Grace. No enchanted forest could be as charming as your presence.” For a brief moment, Lilian worried that she had insulted the decor but the Empress’ slight nod and continued smile told her that she had taken the compliment. Lilian’s heart was racing, she would be more comfortable fighting some brute in alley than jousting with words in a palace.

“Well I thank you for joining me, I assure you that you will be back to the party in no time. It is my understanding that you’re not from Freedos, is that correct?” A red flag instantly shot up in Lilian’s mind. This was a test. She of course knew where Lilian was from, she was seeing whether or not Lilian would tell her the truth.

“That’s right, Your Grace. From a small town in the east called Benlunar.” Lilian did not chance lying to the most powerful woman in Alicium.

“How charming. I confess though that I’ve never been.”

“Charming is the perfect description, Your Grace. The accommodations are humble, but the people are kind and the views are truly worthy of your greatness.” At that comment the Empress turned to share a brief look with her lady in waiting. It was a raised eyebrow and a curious smile. Lilian guessed it to signify a confirmation of some shared suspicion, or perhaps the Empress was impressed with her. The Empress turned back and asked her second question.

“It sounds delightful. May I ask, what brings you to the city?”

“I left home to study and to work. Benlunar is delightful as you say, but holds few opportunities for a keen mind.”

“And you travelled all this way alone?”

“With my uncle, Your Grace.”

“And his name is?” This question caught Lilian off guard, should she use the false name Mr Attorcop had travelled under? Or should she stick to the truth?

“Cromwell Attorcop, Your Grace.” Lilian opted to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“Your uncle doesn’t share your surname?”

“No, Your Grace, he is a distant relative on my mother’s side. I call him uncle for ease.” Lilian felt as though she was being interrogated and a small voice in the back of her head reminded her that she probably was.

The Empress’ questions came thick and fast now. Lilian tried to answer each of them quickly, or else be thought of as some country rube. It wasn’t just her reputation that was at stake here, but her town and family’s as well.

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen, Your Grace.”

“What do you think of the city?”

“I enjoy it.”

“You don’t miss home?”

“On occasion. But not enough to leave just yet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Nearly three months.”

“And the feinhound’s name is?”

“Fritha Your Grace.”

There was a pause. Lilian’s heart sank as she realised that she had lost the first round. She had let slip a piece of information that she would have rather kept to herself. All this mess had started when Fritha had been found attacked and injured in Mr Attorcop’s attic. The silver hand broach they had found at the scene suggested that some strange, secret group known as The Guiding Hand were behind the attack. Had the hand been a decoy? A red herring to throw them off the scent? Or did the influence of the group stretch to the very top levels of government? Lilian needed time to piece everything together and at that moment she was too flustered to make sense of it all.

The Empress leant back in her chair for the first time since sitting down. She was mulling over the information she had just received. Her lady was scribbling something down on her papers. Far below, the crowd cheered at some unseen trick or performance.

“Fritha,” she said, half to herself. “What a lovely name.” Her voice was perfectly clear even when whispered. It was the kind of voice that was used to cutting through chaos. Perfectly practised pronunciation, with just enough volume to be heard at all times. Lilian knew she ought to smile at the compliment, but her heart was still pounding from her foolish mistake. How had The Empress known that Fritha was a feinhound? Or had she merely guessed and let Lilian confirm the fact for her. Lilian hated being on her back foot and resolved to regroup and prepare for the next round.

The Empress leant forward, once again.

“I’m told that she is as beautiful as she is dangerous.”

“An accurate description.”

“Should I be concerned for the safety of my citizens?” Lilian allowed herself a smile. She knew the rules of the game now and she wasn’t going to let herself lose again.

“Only those who would wish her harm.” A pause. Lilian saw the faintest twitch in the corner of the Empress’s left eye. She was angry. The crowd below gasped at some daring stunt performer. Lilian didn’t let herself get distracted.

“It’s not everyday I hear of such a creature living within the city walls.”

“I’m sure your Grace has more important matters to concern herself with.”

“Perhaps. Even so, I should like to meet her.” The grand hall seemed to be collectively holding its breath. The entertainment downstairs must have been quite spectacular. The outright request had caught Lilian off-guard. She had to find a way of turning it down, without slighting the Empress in any way. One slip of something that might be seen as impertinence and Lilian could be spending the rest of the party in a dungeon.

“Your Grace, I’m sure she would be as honoured as I am presently. However, as you say, she can be dangerous. I could not bring myself to put you in any kind of peril.” The Empress countered quickly.

“You doubt your ability to control her?”

“Not at all. I just feel as though…”

“Excellent,” The Empress cut her off. An underhanded move that only she could employ. Lilian slipped and felt her hand grip the arm of her chair tightly. The Empress continued, “Then I should see you and Fritha at the palace at your leisure within the week.” Lilian wanted to protest, she wanted to say something clever and wittily diffuse the situation. She had been so confident only moments ago, she had remembered all her lessons in court etiquette and she thought she had employed them perfectly. But she was still an amateur and she had been facing the world champion. She had never even stood a chance. The Empress was standing up now, preparing for her victory lap no doubt. She had gotten everything she had wanted and probably more out of her brief conversation with Lilian. Thankfully, she was a gracious winner. She smiled sweetly and gazed down at Lilian while holding out her left arm. Lilian was still reeling from her spectacular defeat to realise what was happening.

“My dear, thank you so much for the pleasure of your company. I have so enjoyed meeting you and I know we will become firm friends. Shall we descend to rejoin the fun?” Lilian caught sight of the lady in waiting, her face was a mask of shock. Lilian knew that she could not refuse.

“Your Grace, the pleasure has been all mine. It would be my honour to accompany you downstairs.” Lilian stood up and linked her hand under the arm of the Empress.

“You’re sweet,” she replied, “you’ll have to forgive me if I lean on you too much. I always find these stone steps to be treacherous, especially in this gown.” Lilian could only mumble a small,

“Not at all your Grace,” before starting towards the stairs she had ascended to the balcony.

“Lilian, my dear.” She felt a resistance from the Empress’ arm. “Not those stairs. They’re far too steep and narrow, let us use the others.” Lilian was turned around and guided towards a larger staircase at the other end of the balcony that was in plain view of the hall. It had an ornate bannister that was currently decorated in all manner of luscious greenery and tiny little fairy lights. Lilian realised that she was about to descend to the party by the side of the Empress, paraded to the public like some new pet. Had all this been the plan from the start? A phrase was stuck in her head for some reason, something The Empress had said. ‘As beautiful as she is dangerous.’

Word must have travelled quickly down some other staircase or secret passageway because before Lilian and The Empress reached the bottom of the ostentatious stairs, the crowd was ready to receive them. A short man dressed as a wood nymph heralded their arrival.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, friends and honoured guests. Presenting her Royal Majesty, ninth leader of Alicium and the free world, Empress Sylvia and her guest Miss Lilian Lausanne of Benlunar.” A sea of smiling faces looked up to witness their arrival. Lilian’s stomach was a barrel of butterflies. She sensed her hand was shaking. The Empress must have sensed it too because she leant over and whispered in her ear.

“Just smile my dear. Smile and enjoy yourself.” Lilian did as she was told. The crowd applauded politely. Lilian was reminded of whenever Fritha brought some fresh kill to show her. She saw envy in the eyes of some of the guests and remembered that most of these people would have been commissioning for an opportunity like this for their entire lives. Lilian didn’t know if she should feel honoured, or embarrassed. She found herself wondering if her parents would believe her when she told them.

“My dear friends,” The Empress spoke but only raised her voice ever so slightly, “Thank you so much for joining me. I want to take this opportunity to apologise for the last minute invitations.” There was a brief smattering of knowing, sycophantic laughter. Lilian broadened her grin, not wanting to be left out of the joke. The Empress continued, “It seems that my home has been put under some kind of enchantment.” Another laugh from the crowd. Lilian fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Let us take this opportunity to revel then in magic for one evening for I have a feeling that by morning all of this shall disappear. So eat, drink, dance and enjoy yourselves. And if I may say, the real magic in this hall tonight is the feeling I have in knowing that I have such fine friends.” The Empress then slowly closed her eyes and performed the slightest of bows. It was a well practised and wonderfully executed motion. Enough to show gratitude but not so much as to lose face. It elicited an audible ‘Ah…’ from the crowd who then, like a school of fish, moved as one to bow and bend low and deep. They averted their eyes from her like a pilgrim upon finally reaching the holy site he sought, too in awe to stare directly at its wonder.

Within seconds, the act was done. The band started up again and the crowd dispersed in excited chatter. The Empress, still arm in arm with Lilian, descended to the bottom of the stairs to join the crowd. A few daring party goers waited excitedly to greet them, hoping to get a chance to actually speak to the Empress, perhaps even impress her. For her part, Empress Sylvia tapped Lilian’s hand and whispered one last thing.

“Enjoy your evening Lilian, I shall see you again soon.” And with those words and one final smile, she let go. Lilian watched her drift into the crowd. She felt oddly betrayed, like she had been given a great gift, only to have it snatched away. She could not understand it. She had entered the palace with an idea of the Empress in her head, but now that she had actually met her, that image was becoming distorted. Lilian could only consider this for a few seconds though because she quickly found herself mobbed by a small crowd of young women.

They were all wearing frilly dresses and either had bird feather fascinators on their heads or some kind of ridiculous accessory like a clutch bag in the shape of a spider or flimsy fairy wings sewn into the back of their corsets. Everything about their appearances screamed effort and was totally opposite to what the Empress had been wearing which had merely whispered power and wealth.

“Miss Lausanne?” one asked in a shrill voice.

“Yes?” Lilian was still flustered from her experience and was bewildered by the sudden attention.

“My name is Serena Bellaswan.” Lilian stifled a laugh. The young woman was quite a bit taller than she was, with an exceptionally long neck. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose curls which bounced slightly whenever she moved. She was one of the few people at the ball to be dressed almost entirely in white. The front of her dress was accented with feathers and a small orange patch of silk in the shape of a diamond. “May I ask? How ever did you find such a gorgeous hat?”

“Um, a friend leant it to me,” she replied, in a quiet voice. Lilian had suddenly become distracted by a man walking towards their group holding a silver platter. The tray was filled with bite sized portions of food. Lilian hadn’t eaten since lunch and quickly waved at the man to catch his attention. He approached, smiled and offered her the tray.

“Thank you.” Lilian said as she eagerly grabbed three bites. They were a mixture of cured meat and pickled vegetables. Lilian’s mouth was already watering by the time she shoved them, unceremoniously into it. The man then offered the plate to the rest of the young women who then did something strange. Every single one of them looked at miss Bellaswan and waited for her to act. The woman in white looked down at the plate, smiled politely and then shook her head. At this every one of her little entourage followed suit and declined the food. Lilian looked at the group, confused. One younger girl dressed in a blue gown with a lilypad sewn onto it declined the tray with such a sad look in her eye Lilian thought she was in danger of bursting into tears. Lilian swallowed her mouthful and began to feel nervous again.

“Is that a friend from Benlunar?” Miss Bellaswan’s attention was back on Lilian.

“No… It was Lady Montidore.” This caused a visible reaction in the group of girls. A few of them shared knowing looks. Only Miss Bellaswan kept her gaze on Lilian. She was still smiling. But her smile had changed. It was shifting slowly into a kind of smirk. Lilian’s nerves increased.

“Well, who am I to fault Lady Montidore’s taste in friends or fashion?” From out of nowhere, Miss Bellaswan pulled out a fan and with a flick of her wrist it cracked open. For some reason, the sound reminded Lilian of the crack of a whip. One that might signify the start of some race or competition. Instinctively, Lilian’s feet moved into a guard stance.

“I notice that your lady is not here this evening. How could she be, I suppose, having given up her best hat?” Two or three of the young women covered their mouths to hide their obvious snickering. Only then did Lilian realise what was happening. She was being placed. These young women did not know her and so they were attempting to figure out exactly where she stood in the social hierarchy. Lilian had shown her hand by confessing a connection to Lady Montidore, she had emboldened her opponent who was now attempting to fight for status. Lilian had been so confused by her time with the Empress that she had forgotten that she was at court, and at court words were weapons.

Lilian felt a flash of energy come up from her stomach. Those morsels of food were clearing her head. She took a short breath and remembered her lessons.

“Lady Montidore is indisposed this evening. Her charity work does not always permit for a life of frivolity. And I’m glad you like the hat, Empress Sylivia was also taken with it.” Lilian watched Miss Bellaswan’s mask slip. A flash of rage taking the form of a widening smile.

“How wonderful,” she said, “once again my own taste for friends and fashion aligns with her majesty’s.”

“You must be close as sisters.” said Lilian.

“It has been said.” Miss Bellaswan turned to her adoring crowd and flashed her teeth, perfectly straight and whiter than white. Lilian contorted her face into mock thought.

“Strange then,” she said, “She has never mentioned you.” There was a slight pause. The band was between songs, a detail which Lilian was thankful for because the relative quiet drove the insult home like the final blow of a hammer on a nail. One of the young women towards the back of the small group’s mouth popped open in shock and another one didn’t even notice a small patch of sequins fall off her shoulder. Miss Bellaswan turned slowly back to Lilian. Her eyes were narrowing but still she kept her smile wide and friendly.

“Well my dear, given more time in her company I’m sure that would change. You have after all only just arrived in Freedos. Dressed in borrowed clothes and looking like the cat that got the cream. I might remind you that the Empress will not always be there to throw you scraps and that life in the city can be unforgiving. If I were you I would make some friends or else crawl back to your silly town whose name is as stupid and forgettable as you are.” Lilian felt a flash of heat rush to her cheeks. The insults were made worse by two or three of the girls brazenly applauding the speech. Lilian felt rage bubble up inside her and briefly thought about slapping Miss Bellaswan. All she did though was open her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out there was another crack and the white feathered fan was gone.

“Come along ladies, perhaps we can find someone actually worth talking to. Country folk are so terribly dull.” There was a ripple of titters, a flash of feathers and the group was off, quickly swallowed up into the crowd. Lilian realised that her fists were clenched, her nails were digging into her palms and her teeth were gritted in spite.

She looked around the hall. The lights suspended in the forest canopy were gradually changing colours, bathing the revellers in a purple glow. Together with the sweet sounding music it made for a truly beautiful scene. It seemed a shame to let anger spoil it, she thought. And why was she even angry? She had fought contract killers and stared demons in the eye. But something about miss Bellaswan’s words and ways made her blood boil. Another sound caught her attention, it was a low chuckle coming from behind her. Lilian turned to see where it was coming from. A tall woman with black hair was leaning against the outside of the ornate bannister. Lilian hadn’t noticed her before and she wondered if this had been intentional. The woman seemed friendly and was still chuckling in a low and musical way. She was older than Miss Bellaswan. Her face was lined with smile creases but her hair was not yet grey. She emerged from behind the decorations and Lilian saw that she was dressed as a sort of fey warrior. While many women had elected to sport heightened or fantastical versions of the current fashions she was dressed in jewel studded leathers. She wore a coronet of thin silver that dipped into a point in the middle of her forehead. Her clothes were elegant, in keeping with the theme and much more comfortable looking than any gown or dress. Lilian found herself wishing she had dressed this way.

“Was I really that bad?” Lilian asked her. The woman shrugged and smiled.

“Not too bad for a first try. Although I don’t envy your choice of opponent. If I was new to a game, I would not want to face a champion.” Lilian found her voice familiar for some reason.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” she pouted, feeling the loss all over again. The woman shrugged once more, she had broad shoulders that shook the silver rings and plates on her armour when they fell.

“Knowing is part of the game, I’m afraid. You wouldn’t play a game of cards without knowing the rules now would you? You were outnumbered and out statused. Try not to take it to heart, we all lose battles, it’s the war that counts.” She looked Lilian up and down, assessing her in some way. “Miss Bellaswan was right about one thing,” she continued.

“What? That I was stupid?” said Lilian. This made the woman laugh.

“No. That if you’re going to play the game, you will need friends.” Lilian thought for a second. She had friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. With nothing to lose she ventured an offer.

“Will you be my friend?” Another shrug.

“Maybe. Like Miss Bellaswan, I am interested in why you were with The Empress, but I do not wish to risk my standing on a newcomer.” There was another searching look. Lilian began to feel very exposed and alone. All her training and power was proving useless in this unfamiliar battleground. Finally the warrior woman curtsied. The motion looked strange coming from someone dressed in such powerful attire. But Lilian smiled, relieved and returned the curtsy.

“My name is Genevive Katz.”

“Lilian Lausanne.”

“A pleasure to meet you Miss Lausanne.”

“And you Miss Katz.” Both women smiled and Lilian felt her anger melt away. It felt good to have someone take a chance on her. “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“Ha,” Genevive gave a derisive laugh, “I would not worry about that. I am perfectly capable of embarrassing myself, thank you.” Lilian smiled. “Come, shall we attempt to enjoy ourselves?” Genevive motioned to the depths of the great hall where the party was in full swing. Lilian gave a mock sigh.

“If we must.” Genevive offered her left arm and Lilian gladly took it. Her hands were larger than Lilian’s and seemed rough and red in places. Lilian noticed them while looking at the incredibly intricate bracers she was wearing. They were decorated with little moons and encrusted with shimmering blue stones.

The party was much easier to enjoy with someone who knew what they were doing. Lilian and Genevive ate some delicious looking shellfish while watching a team of acrobats vault over impossible heights and launch each other into the air in a breathtaking display of stunts and somersaults. They met a man carrying a lizard on his arm that from tip to tail was almost as big as Lilian. At one point, two friendly young men approached them and asked them to dance. Genevive thankfully recognised the look of abject terror on Lilian’s face and politely declined the offer. The evening had started with a baptism of fire into the world of court politics, but thankfully the flames had cooled and Lilian was beginning to see why all these people fought tooth and nail for a ticket to events like these. She was having fun and although she had to watch what she said with whoever she met, Lilian found herself laughing at Genevive’s witty observations and smiling at the kind words she received on her choice of gown and hat from various strangers. Occasionally she would catch eyes with Serena Bellaswan who seemed to be watching her like a hawk would a mouse. But as the night went on Lilian found it easier and easier to just ignore her.

“You’re not as bad as I thought Miss Lausanne.” Genevive was sipping a pink drink in a tall and ornate glass. The compliment came after a particularly prickly interaction between Lilian and an older noble woman. Lilian had accidentally caused her to spill her drink but had deftly talked her way out of embarrassment and even managed to leave the encounter after putting a smile on the woman’s face.

“I have excellent teachers.” said Lilian, flushing red from the attention.

“If I did not know better, I would say you have enjoyed yourself.” Genevive’s lilting accent still pleased Lilian.

“I have,” she said, smiling, “and I have you to thank for that Miss Katz.”

“A pleasure is a pleasure my dear. It’s not so bad when you play the game for fun. Most people here play to win. Every conversation becomes an opportunity to put yourself up higher, or send others down low. But I am not here to work, and so I think in some way that gives me a sort of advantage. I will not climb high in court tonight, but I will not fall too low either.”

Suddenly a gong sounded from the back of the stage. It was a low and sorry sound that echoed off the walls and around the hall. It was met by an equally sad sound from the crowd, almost a collective groan. It clearly signalled the end of the evening and the guests were despondent to have their frivolity cut short. Lilian’s heart sank as well, but not so much because of the gong. It was something Genevive had said, something about this party being work. With all the distractions and strange events Lilian had completely forgotten what she had been here to do. She had supposed to work, to find a quiet corner and listen out for that strange ringing sound she had caught from the rooftop near the palace walls. Lilian wanted to kick herself.

“Oh that is a shame,” said Genevive. She started walking towards the large entrance at the other end of the hall, she made it a few steps before turning back to see that Lilian was not following. “Miss Lausanne? Is everything alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

“No need to be so upset,” Genevive comforted her, “there will always be more parties.” Lilian smiled.

“No I know, it’s just that… I’ve… lost my shawl. Yes, I came here with it and I can’t seem to see it anywhere.” Genevive shot her a confused look. It had been a blatant lie, but Lilian needed an excuse to stick around, even if just for a minute, if she could find somewhere quiet to focus as the guests were leaving then she might be able to listen out for a clue.

“Miss Katz, thank you so much for everything. I hope we meet again soon.” Genevive looked taken aback at the strange and sudden goodbye. But she shrugged and nodded.

“Of course, I live within the walls at my father’s house, ask for me at the gates one day and we will have tea, or whatever it is noble ladies are supposed to do when we are not at parties.” She curtsied one final time and Lilian returned the gesture. Genevive then turned and joined the chattering, exiting crowd.

Lilian glanced around fitfully. Every dark corner she saw had some masked man buried within it, glaring out over the party like a gargoyle. Had there always been this much security in here? Lilian wondered. At one point, Lilian thought she spotted an alcove that was hidden from view, but as soon as she started towards it, the man with the cane from earlier appeared as if from nowhere and blocked her path.

“May I help you, Miss Lausanne?” Lilian caught herself and went back to the story she had given Genevive.

“I’m looking for my shawl, I can’t seem to find it.” The man leant forwards so that he was at eye level. His pink jacket hung loose on his chest and Lilian could smell the strong perfume he wore.

“I will personally be sure to keep an eye out for it. If it is found, I shall have it sent to your address.”

“Thank you but I…” Lilian tried to protest, but the man interrupted her.

“Now if you will kindly follow the other guests to the doors. The party is over and it is getting late.” Lilian stood, stunned for a second. While he was talking, she had glanced at the inside of the man’s pink jacket, at the white cotton shirt beneath it. There on the lapel, plain as day, was a silver brooch in the shape of a hand. Lilian could not find any words so she simply nodded. The man held his hand out towards the large palace doors. His sleeve lifted slightly as his arm extended and Lilian caught a glimpse of something else. The skin around his wrist was red and scabbed. It was a fresh wound, perhaps a week or two old at best. Lilian only saw it for a second, but it looked like a bite mark.

She started heading for the palace doors. Unfortunately she was leaving the party with more questions than answers. She started off walking but when an idea entered her mind she hitched up her dress and began to run. It was not exactly appropriate behaviour for a young noble lady but Lilian reminded herself that she was not a young noble lady and that she didn’t give a rabbit’s tale for what these people thought of her. She pushed her way through the crowd, excusing herself as best she could whenever she bumped into somebody. Her eyes scanned the hustle and bustle of the throng. Lilian breathed in the cool night air as she left the hall through the gigantic doors she had entered. People were chatting on the stone steps outside and the trees that had lit the way from the gates were now sparkling with the light of thousands of fireflies. Lilian didn’t have time to enjoy the site however as she picked up her pace and ran into the trees. She scanned every face, every hint of silver and every tired party goer until she found who she was looking for.

“Genevive!” she shouted. She had seen the light reflect off of her new friend’s coronet and was making her way towards her through the trees. Genevive turned to see her approach. She smiled.

“Hello again! When I said you should visit, I did not think it would be so soon.” Lilian was slightly out of breath but managed to get out what she wanted to say.

“Can I ask, where did you get those bracers? And the band on your head?” Genevive’s face fell to a nervous expression. She glanced about to check that no one was within eavesdropping distance. Satisfied that they were alone, she leant forward and whispered her reply.

“Don’t tell anyone because it’s not very appropriate behaviour but… I actually make them myself.”

A Special Announcement

A notice from the creators about season four.