Danadrian drifted in and out of consciousness.

  There were brief snippets of vision. He felt cold water splash against his skin, wind brush against his face. He heard whispers, the creaking and ambient sounds of the night. Then, in a small moment of clarity, he glimpsed a woman staring down at him, her face scrunched up in concentration. Except… there were horns of fire protruding from her head.

  What… are those?

  Then that too vanished.

  Searing pain raced across his body. He could feel the cuts on his arms and legs, the deep wound in his shoulder, the lingering wounds on his wrists. The only thing he could do was shudder and cry, his vision filling with red.

  Then… calm. The pain began to recede, he stopped shaking. The only thing he was left with was peaceful, undisturbed serenity.

  It was an unusual feeling he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. And only Mayare knew when he might feel it again.

  . . .

  Alleria emptied a waterskin over her hands, rinsing away the last of the dried blood. She turned back to the healer, a serious and straight-backed older man, and gave him some gold coins.

  “Thank you for your help.”

  He nodded. “It’s my job to. The stitches and bandages you applied were well done, and I’d have had a much harder time if the bleeding hadn’t stopped. If I may ask, are you trained in medical procedures?”

  It had been nearly impossible for her to find an expert on basic medical procedure to copy from, especially in Fordain. Whilst Velandus, arriving just in time as he always did, had rushed to the Company to look for a magical healer, she’d Blinked close to ten times just to seal his wounds. She’d barely had enough energy after that to even help.

  “I’ve got some passing knowledge. I considered cauterising the worst wounds, but only as a last resort. If I had proper tools on hand, he wouldn’t have suffered as much pain.”

  The healer nodded. “You were right to call a proper healer. I fear that if I hadn’t come as fast as I could, your friend would be in much worse shape.”

  “Again, I thank you.”

  He gave her a searching look before coughing into his fist. “I will… be discreet about his condition then, in my records. I don’t need to know how he got them.”

  She slowly nodded. “I appreciate it.”

  The healer got out of the cart and went to exchange words with Velandus. Alleria, her hat now firmly over her head, looked down at the Lightbringer. His face was clean, his wounds bandaged, and he looked calmer now. She’d been worried when he’d begun thrashing. He hardly seemed to be the same warrior who had dispatched the thugs in seconds, as inept as they were. And some of his wounds were strange, they’d found fresh cut marks across his wrists that he certainly didn’t get during the fighting.

  “He took a near-fatal blow to the shoulder just to get an advantage.” She said as the old man slid into the cart. “I’m not sure if that shows impressive skill or impressive stupidity.”

  “He didn’t have that blade when last I saw him,” He said, nodding to the rusted sword they’d placed beside him, “It definitely isn’t iron or steel, way too light.”

  “You say his name is Danadrian?”

  “With no last name given. A follower of Mayare and the Light, a newly made member of the Company of the Gethanhol, bronze ranked, and I assumed a Moren.”

  She shook her head immediately. “Not from Moren, his complexion is all wrong. Look at his face, it's tanned, that’s the last thing you’ll be getting in Southern Moren unless you tried exceptionally hard.”

  “Further south, then? Floraine? It might explain his links to the Light, their Church is very prominent in those parts.”

  She crouched down to get a closer look at him. “Perhaps… but he didn’t use any magic, and that is sort of their thing.”

  “A bit of a stereotype.”

  “Only because it’s fundamentally true to an extent. But that doesn’t explain what he’s doing here. This entire country is Derumani, he’s one bad day away from being hunted like I am.” She paused, “Okay, maybe not to that extent, but close. Even the missionaries passing through here had trouble, and they basically had an army at their back to make sure no one messed with them. Is that right?”

  She looked at Velandus, who she knew had been in the area around the time. He grimaced, “That’s pretty much the sum of it.”

  “Those who worship the Deeplords will never forgive him for what Mayare did. One way or another, they will seek vengeance.”

  “Commiserating with the enemy, are you?”

  “I understand the enemy.” She corrected. “Slathir is a Deeplord as well, even if most Demons wouldn’t hold it against some random guy for what his goddess did.” Her eyes grew a little unfocused. “But we do understand how they feel.”

  He slowly nodded his head. “Yes, as do I.”

  She clenched her fist. “Though that hardly excuses it.”

  “GAH!”

  They both jumped, the cart shook, and the Lightbringer shot up from where he lay, his eyes wide. His hands were shaking, and sweat ran down his back like a waterfall. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “Where… am I?” He shook his head, wiping the sweat from his face. “I felt… serene, peaceful, calm,” He scrunched his face up. “Too calm. It terrified me. Where am I?”

  “How remarkable.” Velandus muttered, “You’re alright, Danadrian. This place is safe.” He side-eyed the cuts in the cart’s fabric. “Safe enough.”

  She leaned forward, right into his face, and inspected it. “How coherent is he?”

  “I am quite coherent, thank you.” He snapped back.

  “You just got healed from a deep wound to your shoulder, cuts across your body, as well as your wrists. You’re lucky nothing got infected.” She poked his skin to make a point.

  He winced, “It still feels sore, so please stop that.”

  Velandus nodded, crossing his legs as he sat down beside them, “An aftereffect of magical healing, I’m afraid. Though you’ll have to suffer through the aches and pains for a couple of days, I’d wager it’s still better than the alternative.”

  “Which was bleeding out.” She added.

  Danadrian squinted at him. “…Velandus? I’m in your cart again? And you…” He turned to stare at her. “You were being assaulted by thugs.”

  “Alleria, it’s a pleasure. I must thank you for your help back there, it was sure to be a bloody affair.”

  He shrugged. “It was hardly a matter of choice, Light forbid I ever left someone to their fate like that.”

  “And yet you suffered grievous wounds at my expense. I’m in your debt, Danadrian.”

  “Seriously, I will hear nothing of…” He trailed off, hand clutching his chest. It darted to his pants, the edge of his cloak that lay beside him, and then his eyes went wide. The look of fear on his face was so sudden it almost made her flinch in spite of herself.

  “Where is it?”

  He threw his blanket off, frantically shaking it and looking around him. His face had started to go red, and his breathing was elevating rapidly. She looked to Velandus in confusion, but he’d already reached into his own pocket.

  “Please calm down, Danadrian.”

  “I- I need to- need to find it.”

  “Danadrian.” He shouted, reaching forward. There was something in his hand, small and metallic, that reflected light into her eyes. “Here.”

  His shoulders slumped. All the air left his body with a sigh. His entire body went still, save for an arm, which reached out to take the object and place it close to his chest. He took a deep breath.

  “Thank you.”

  After a few seconds, he pulled his hand away, revealing a small brooch he’d pinned to his tunic. It was spiked and golden with a silver centre. A symbol of Mayare if ever she’d seen one. One of his few possessions, by the look of it, and certainly the most prized. But the way he held it with such reverence, and his attitude when apart, it went beyond zeal or reverence. It looked to her like… dependence.

  She took another look at him, beyond the battered man or the mysterious saviour. He was clearly a swordsman, though according to Velandus, without a sword until very recently, but other than that, there was very little she could read off of him. A Paladin, perhaps? But she thought they all used hammers.

  Her knowledge of the Church of the Light left much to be desired. She’d never bothered to learn their rites or trainings, but if this was the sort they churned out, then it was clearly effective. She’d seen better, but the odds he’d been put against were pretty high. Numbers could sometimes outpace skill; that was what she’d learned. And he had skill, that much was certain.

  But taking a sword strike to the shoulder? Just to get the jump on his opponent was close to madness in her eyes, though she had little proper experience with the blade.

  If she mimicked him, she might get a better understanding of it, and maybe his character as well.

  She Blinked.

  “AGH!”

  Her head screamed. Pain pierced through it, striking every vein and nerve. It was like a headache given by a god themselves. Clutching her temples, she dropped to her knees, throwing her hat off to let her horns breathe. They felt like an inferno.

  “Alleria!” Velandus fell in beside her. “Your horns-”

  The pain began to subside; like a spike protruding into her, she ripped herself free of it. And then the next shock hit her system.

  She hadn’t copied him. There was nothing there. It was as if she had never tried in the first place.

  “That… isn’t possible. There’s never been someone we couldn’t- never in-”

  Who is this man?

  Danadrian had backed himself into the corner of the cart, staring at her with a whirlwind mix of emotions. His eyes were wide as he looked past her. To her head.

  Ah…

  “Remind me what the Church of the Light’s views on Demons are?” She slowly asked Velandus, who had also gone still.

  “Mayare’s views on the God of Demons have never been favourable, so I am hesitant to call theirs friendly.”

  “Right.” She cleared her throat. “Danadrian, I-”

  “What are you?”

  She paused. “I beg your pardon?”

  He kept staring at her. “Those horns. You’re not Human, are you?”

  She ever-so-slightly turned her head to Velandus. His face had also gone slack. “I don’t think he knows what… No, that can’t be possible, can it? Not for someone here.”

  “How remarkable indeed.” Was all he muttered, a hand moving to rub his chin.

  She looked back at Danadrian and saw her mistake. What she’d assumed was there, fear, shock, hatred, or animosity perhaps, wasn’t. What was, however, was curiosity. A mind trying to come to terms with what he was seeing.

  “Do you… not know what Demons are?”

  He tilted his head. “A Demon?”

  Who is this man?

  . . .

  He had apparently been passed out and healing for over a day, so when he once again walked across Fordain’s streets, the Sun was once again setting in the distance. Men returned home, quietly greeting their families as they rubbed their weary shoulders, or they exited them, seeking the tavern’s food and drink. The scattered sounds of children playing began to quieten, and a relaxed lull settled over the town. It was in that peaceful environment that Danadrian found himself, trying to ignore the lingering aches in his shoulder and wrists.

  He was also trying his best not to stare at the woman stalking beside him in fascination.

  A Demon.

  He had no idea what that was, or what it implied, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel on the matter. If Mayare’s doctrines condemned them, then surely he would know; it seemed a trifling bit of information to keep from him. It seemed that whatever they were, knowledge of them had been left at the bottom of the ever-expanding sea that was his memories.

  And besides that, she didn’t look to be some foul threat or monster. She was almost his height, only a few inches shorter. With fair skin, dark shoulder-length hair, and rather beautiful amber eyes, she looked as Human as the rest. Well, not the Carathiliar, but other Humans. The only thing that distinguished her was the horns on her head, which she’d hidden beneath a new, smaller hat.

  She glanced up at him, and he quickly looked away. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, I just…”

  “Just, what?”

  He cleared his throat. “Are the horns made of real fire?”

  She grabbed his arm in a tight grip and pulled him close to her face. “Are you insane? Are you trying to get me killed?”

  “I am sorry, I just wanted to-”

  “What if someone heard you, huh?”

  He looked around the street, which was practically empty save for them. “And where are these spectral eavesdroppers?”

  She let him go. “Very funny, Lightbringer. Laugh about it when you can tell me for certain they aren’t tailing us as we speak or hiding in those shadows over there.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  They kept walking, and he concluded that she might just be a little skittish.

  “Velandus mentioned it to me, but you’re being hunted, right? Because you’re a… you know.”

  She nodded. Even now, she seemed to favour being deeper into the shadows cast down by the surrounding houses. “Those thugs weren’t just looking for coin to steal, they were hired to try and kill me. By a Talradian.” She spat the last word out like even saying it made her sick.

  “Kill you? Why? What on Andwelm would compel someone to go to such lengths to see you dead? And… Talradian? Who are they?”

  “Probably because I tried to kill her. And you don’t know who the Talradians are either?”

  “I…” There was really no excuse he could find. “No, I don’t. Somehow related to you?”

  “Somehow.” She replied, “If you see one now, I’d recommend running. Or hiding. You helped me, which means you might be on their shortlist of people to kill.”

  When she looked at him again, she probably saw his worried and conflicted expression, “Listen, it’s a long story, and frankly, none of your concern. Assurances that you won’t tell anyone my identity is the last favour I needed from you, and I’m only escorting you back because Velandus is worried you might get yourself killed.”

  “I am in near-perfect condition.” He huffed, “And besides, couldn’t he have taken us there in his cart?”

  “Since we nearly got gutted in it earlier today, it might’ve been even more dangerous for you.”

  She chose not to elaborate any further, so he had to break away from his stare. Okay, so she was private, mysterious, and justifiably skittish. If he got attacked twice in one day, he might feel the same.

  “Thrice.”

  “Pardon?”

  She smirked. “I was attacked three times today.”

  “Does your kind gain the ability to read minds?” He was only half joking.

  She barked out a laugh. “No, I just predicted where your immediate line of thought would go. And anyway, the second time was mostly my fault, and probably unconnected. Probably.”

  “What was it? If I may ask.”

  Her face twisted into a grimace. “The best outcome was that he was an abuser. The worst…” She shuddered, “I don’t want to think about it.”

  Danadrian felt his own heart beat harder hearing that. “Then he deserved every bit of punishment that came his way.”

  “I killed him.”

  “… I see.”

  She said without hesitation, so matter-of-fact, that it threw him off. She couldn’t be older than… twenty? Twenty-two? To kill without remorse at that age… but her eyes seemed to stretch back years.

  He was still trying to come to terms with the life he’d taken. A single swift movement was all it took to snap the cord binding him to this world and send his Soul into the clutches of Galumtir. He did it easily. As an Angelica, he must have been forced to take Human lives before.

  And yet did he regret it?

  No, but in a way, yes? He wished that fate had not brought them to that point, but he would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.

  They continued walking, with him leading them in the direction of the Hunthorde Inn. Slowly but surely, his internal map of Fordain was growing to the point where he was certain they’d only hit a few dead ends or turn-arounds. He made small conversation with Alleria, asking her opinions on Fordain, the Carathiliar, and her experiences as a foreigner, though hers were clearly much more extreme and dangerous experiences than he.

  He had just led them down their first wrong road, a street that curved back on itself, and was about to apologise to her when he felt her hand dig into his arm.

  “Behind us. A man and a woman. They’ve been tailing us for ten minutes now.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He resisted the urge to turn around and look. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “What do we do then?”

  “We can’t afford to get bogged down in a fight. I don’t want to involve you anymore, just… play along, okay?”

  He hesitated only a second. “Got it. Now what is it you want to- GAH!”

  He stifled a yelp as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. She looked up at him with a sweet smile, and when she spoke, it was much louder and a lot more… feminine, “See dear, I told you we weren’t going the right way.”

  “I- Well, you know me, I’m always getting these roads mixed around at night.”

  He put an arm around her as she pulled him around, steering them back the way they’d came. Straight past the supposed stalkers they had following them. He saw them now, though their shapes were still obscured by shadow.

  They passed each other, neither acknowledging that they saw the other, and he chanced a small breath.

  “You know, maybe I should lead sometimes, at least that way we wouldn’t get so turned around all the time,” Alleria said playfully. He just smiled.

  “Think they’re going to keep following us.” He whispered through his teeth.

  “What do you think?” She replied in turn.

  Between playful and flirtatious remarks that he awkwardly participated in, they got through a few more words.

  “The act is one thing, but how come they didn’t recognise our faces?”

  “Either they did, in which case they’ll be reporting our location soon and we’ll have a fight on our hands, or whatever descriptions they’re working off of aren’t that accurate. You probably gave some of those thugs brain damage.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I don’t leave many alive afterwards to talk about. And I wear my disguises well.”

  She had a point. In stark contrast to the dirty and raggedy lady he’d first met, now she looked much more refined. Her face was cleaned, her hair neatly brushed, and her clothes looked distinctly high-class. Even her hat seemed newer.

  “How do you have this many wardrobe changes?”

  “Well, you know how it is, honey.” She said loudly, “A small bag of coins can go a long way.”

  She continued to steer the two of them, and before long, he saw more and more people appear on the streets beside them. Then they turned a corner, and he stumbled a little as he saw a lot of people milling about a grassy yard in the middle of town. There were stalls set up and merchants and traders peddling their wares. One was standing on top of her cart and calling for only the richest to purchase her food.

  Ah, the market I heard about. I’ve been meaning to come here for a while now.

  He’d chosen not to, mainly because it seemed like a quick and easy way to lose all his money, whether intentionally or not.

  Alleria glanced behind them, clearly saw their stalkers still in careful pursuit, and tugged on him harder.

  “Go, into the crowd.”

  They beelined it for the largest crowd of people, who, despite the hour, were jostling one another to get closer to some of the stalls, the most popular, it seemed. They hit the crowd and kept moving, in equal part pushing through them and being swept into their current. No one objected, at least not any more than they already were. By the time the people began to thin out, they’d lost sight of their pursuers.

  He took a long, deep breath and clutched the brooch still pinned to his tunic. Alleria frowned at him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m-” He breathed again, “-Fine. I’m just not good with crowds.”

  He’d felt the Panic building in him, and it had taken all his strength to force it down. One hand held to the brooch like a lifeline, the other gripping Alleria as she pulled him forward. Between the two, he was able to stay focused, one foot in reality. Even then, perspiration was dripping down his back.

  “We should go.” He forced himself forward, one step at a time. “It’s not that far to the inn.”

  He led them after that, Alleria glancing behind them constantly to make sure they weren’t being followed. When he finally saw the sign of the Hunthorde Inn, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  The common room was, of course, bustling with activity, with patrons sloshing down beer and ordering more food, the barmaids and barkeepers in a flurry of movements. The moment he walked through, he heard Innkeeper Heldreth call out to him, “Danadrian! Where’ve you been, lad?”

  He waved to the spry man. “Company work took a bit longer than expected. Do I still have my room?”

  “Right where you left it. And your friend?”

  He turned and saw that Alleria was hesitating in the doorway. She’d pulled her hat lower over her face and was looking at everything that moved inside the inn with obvious mistrust. And for once, he couldn’t blame her. Even he was now looking at some of the patrons a little warier, hoping none of them turned out to be a threat. Her nervousness was contagious.

  “She’s just visiting for a little bit. If that’s okay?”

  “Fine by me. Just tell someone when you want to eat your food.”

  He waved at her and, hesitantly, she followed. The two briskly marched to his small room, where he immediately shut and locked the door. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he slumped down against the wall.

  “And are you safe enough now?”

  “As safe as we can be. They won’t overhear us from outside?” She was peeking out the window he had, but eventually decided it was secure enough and invited herself to flop down on his bed. “No, I suppose not. Not with the common room that loud.”

  “I must say that your skills out there were very impressive.”

  She didn’t even bother to lift her head up. “What do you mean?”

  “Your acting was quite good.”

  She rolled over to stare at him. “Right, you don’t know. That wasn’t really me at all.”

  “… What?”

  She pointed at her horns, which were out in the open now that her hat was off. “I’m a Demon, more specifically, I’m a Demon of House Elevar.”

  “There are Houses?”

  “Yes, imagine them like subraces, or just Human races in fact. Each one is distinct from the others, they have their own horn colours, and each House possess its own sorcery.”

  He gave her a long look. “Sorcery. Not magic?”

  Not magic.” She shook her head. “When we were created, each House was given its own form of sorcery. In a way, it’s our form of magic, but wholly distinct. House Elevar’s is mimicry. Copying.”

  He straightened his back. “Right, okay. So you can copy what, their skills?”

  “That’s part of it. In a fight, I choose the best warrior among my enemies, and I’m able to fight as they do. In the case of earlier, I took a gamble that the woman tailing us might be married. I copied the genuine attitude she might have to her significant other.”

  “So it isn’t just skills then, but… their attitude? How far does it go?”

  To that, she just shrugged. “If I were a hundred years older, I might have an answer. The older Demons definitely could.”

  He stared, making sure he had just heard her right. “Did you just say one hundred years?”

  “Mhm. We live a lot longer than Humans, though unfortunately we aren’t immortal.

  “And how old are you?”

  She didn’t answer, letting silence sink in before he said, “You know it’s rude to ask a lady that, Danadrian.”

  He frowned. “Is it?”

  “Clearly, wherever you’re from it isn’t. I’m forty-one years old.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, or if she was joking, but her face was serious. That seemed to be the set expression she defaulted to. He tried to smile. “Well, you look quite spry for your age, then.”

  Her eyes sharpened. “Watch it, Lightbringer. I’m still young by our standards, barely of age.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Hm?”

  “Lightbringer. Does it have a meaning amongst your people?”

  She flashed her teeth in a smirk. “Only amongst those of us who dare to leave Demagain, our home realm. It’s a term we use to refer to Light-inflicted folks who wander into lands less inclined towards your beliefs.”

  “So, missionaries or converters then?”

  She scrunched up her face and sat up, tilting her head side to side. “Ehhh, sort of. Your missionaries always march around in big groups, practically armies in some cases, with their servants and their Paladins and their ‘holier than thou’ attitudes-”

  He felt a spark of irritation at the rather brazen and degrading descriptions.

  “-but Lightbringers tend to go at it alone. They’re either young and na?ve or old and jaded. They come to new lands to bring the blessings of the Light to the common man. That sort of thing.”

  He smiled, despite his right eye starting to twitch. “By the sounds of it, then, the denizens of Demagain are not practitioners of the Light?”

  “Nope. We mostly worship Slathir, the God of Demons.” She looked at him closely. “And I’m guessing you don’t know who that is?”

  He shook his head and replied with a simple, “No.”

  She shrugged it off. “And anyway, it’s a bit more complicated for us since some of us decide to worship other beings.”

  “More Gods?”

  “No, though another Demon may give you a different answer, they are not gods. They are the Demon Lords of Demagain, the sons of Slathir, and the first Demons he brought into this world.” She counted on her fingers. “There’s Elevar, Wrathius, Slothir, Gredon, Prydin, and Gluttar. Each of them is the progenitor of one of our Houses.”

  He frowned. “But they’re not Gods.”

  “Depends on your definition.”

  “Gods are Gods, firstborn of Creation.”

  She shrugged again. “The race of gods was the first to be birthed of Creation, correct. But what of those people who simply worship powerful beings as gods? What does that make them?”

  “Those… you are implying that faith makes a God.”

  “More like belief makes a god.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dry piece of meat to start chewing. “Isn’t that what matters in the end for us? What we see?”

  His head throbbed with pain as he searched in vain for information that was not there. He could almost feel the argument, the answer he was seeking, just beyond his grasp, disappearing into the darkness and never-ending emptiness.

  Between bites, she continued, “And if a people mourn a god? Is that not indicative of their status?”

  He fell back to reality. Mourn a God? “What did you just say?” He spun his head around to her. “A God cannot die.”

  She looked at him closely again before nodding. “Of course. It was just a hypothetical.”

  What was she hiding?

  She certainly seemed to be a better liar than he was.

  “Well, this has been… something.” She pulled herself off his bed. “Thank you once again for your timely intervention. You might want to rest a little longer to work off all the aches.”

  He stood up as well, and she placed her hat over her head. “Thank you. Will I… be seeing you again?”

  “Velandus will probably want to talk more with you, but if you wanted a word of advice?” She fixed him with a look. “Stay away. If you do, they might not come for you and write you off as a one-time problem. That’d be for the best.”

  She left him with that rather foreboding message as he slumped down onto his bed, the door closing behind her. He found his backpack had been brought here already, he thought he’d left it behind at the bar. Lethandirr must have dropped it off for him.

  He was about to rest his sword in the corner of the room, before he reconsidered and laid it down beside his bed.

  Light help me, her paranoia must be contagious.

  He closed his eyes and willingly fell asleep on the bed he had been craving. Only now, his thoughts were left troubled, and it wasn’t the glorious and peaceful sleep he had hoped for.

  . . .

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept for, only that he had definitely missed breakfast by the time he got up. His arms and muscles were still aching, but thankfully less so than the day before. And he had checked it had only been a day, Velandus had dropped an uncomfortable suggestion that he might pass out for longer.

  Still, he was awake in time for lunch, which was warm bread the innkeeper had got from a local bakery paired with an assortment of fruits. The bread in particular was quite delicious.

  “Everybody loves Mrs Althmera’s baking.” He chuckled when Danadrian complimented it, “And how about you, Danadrian? I heard from a few regulars you caused a little stir a few days ago.”

  He almost choked on his food. “In what way?”

  “The Company, of course. Walking in there at night, sword on your back, wounds covering your arms. And from a gardening job no less.”

  “Ah, yes, well…” He wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “That is a slight exaggeration.”

  “Got them healed, didn’t you?” Innkeeper Heldreth nodded to his arms.

  “Oh, yes. I got a healer to see to them. Didn’t want to risk an infection or anything.”

  “Smart, smart. I’d do the same.”

  He coughed into his fist. “Were there many people talking about me?”

  “Only a couple that happened to be there at the time. And pretty sure there was… oh yes.” He snapped his fingers. “Someone came in asking about you this morning.”

  “This morning?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure of it. I think they might still…” He stood on his tippy-toes to look across the filling room. “Yes, they’re still here, way over there at the back.”

  Danadrian stood from his own seat to see, following the vague pointing and descriptions given to him.

  “Right there near the fireplace. The Talradian lass.”

  He froze and felt a tickling run down his spine. Far across the room, he met the eyes of a figure in common clothing. A woman, her face as white as marble.

  “I think I will go greet her. Common courtesy.”

  “Of course.” Innkeeper Heldreth busied himself picking up his cutlery and bowls. He made his way across the room, dodging other patrons and avoiding knocking into their tables, his eyes not leaving hers.

  I’m unarmed. Is she?

  Should have brought the sword out with me.

  What does she want? Would she start a fight here? Now?

  She nodded to the empty chair in front of her, which he took. Up close, he saw that her dark hair was actually more brown than anything, her skin smooth and unwrinkled. But her eyes unnerved him. Shimmering glass, it was equal parts strange and disturbing.

  Like a corpse.

  “Danadrian, I take it?”

  “That would be correct. And who do I have the honour of greeting?”

  She just smiled. “An interested party. I come unarmed and alone to meet you in good faith.”

  There was no way of knowing if she was telling the truth, so he nodded. “I see. And to what end? Why is it I have the pleasure of meeting a Talradian face to face?”

  “Ah, so you know my kind?” She leaned forward slightly. “How much?”

  “Only the basics, and only very recently. You could say I grew up secluded.”

  Never had he ever told such a bald-faced lie, but for once it seemed to work. Either that or she just didn’t call him out on it.

  “I see then. Did the Demon tell you everything?”

  Her voice was low, barely audible over the ambient buzz of the common room. He kept his face impartial. “Enough, I believe, to make my own assessments. A blood feud between races seems a violent affair.”

  “On that, we are in agreement. They slaughter us, we kill them, a cycle as old as I can remember.”

  He placed his hands carefully on the table. “And hardly my concern now, is it? Respectfully, I’m just a follower of Mayare trying to get by.”

  “And an excellent place to do it.” She said, the hints of a mocking tone entering her voice, “Don’t be coy now, Danadrian. It became your concern when you beat five men senseless and murdered another.”

  “Killed.” He corrected, “In my own self-defence and that of an innocent. There are laws.”

  “Hardly innocent and wanted for assault and several murder charges by the Tiana himself. And you should read those laws before you cite them.”

  He inclined his head. “I concede that point then.” Though it hurt him to do so, “So what is it then? Am I going to find knives in my soup tonight?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “It would hardly be so drastic. I came here in good faith, Danadrian. That I swear, on my god and yours. I came here out of the goodness of my heart, and for your sake.”

  He was starting to notice a certain edge in her voice. Though they were similar in height, he almost felt like she was looking down on him, somehow.

  “I’m flattered, but if I may be so bold as to ask, why?”

  She shrugged. “Why? Because I don’t see any need for further bloodshed between you, me, and those that may start taking more… direct action against the Demon.”

  “A threat, then?”

  “A recommendation.” She corrected, lifting one finger. “We have no quarrel with you and your god. And if anything, there’s no reason you should find yourself defending the likes of her.”

  “And why is that?”

  She stared at him in an affronted manner. “I thought it was obvious. Slathir is a Derumani god. I see no reason why a pious follower of Mayare should besmirch his faith by siding with them.”

  His throat clenched up a little. That was information Alleria had decidedly not told him. Had she just forgotten, or was it a calculated omission? Derumani. They were of the Derumani. That made them no better than the UnOrder, than the Carathiliar, didn’t it? He’d… he’d Fallen once before, he couldn’t desecrate his oaths again, could he?

  They call them monsters. They hunt them, force them to hide in the shadows.

  The Talradian smiled knowingly. “I only ask that you distance yourself from her; that is all. Her and her driver we’ve had a hard time tracking down. Go about your life as you did before, Danadrian, and leave the rest-”

  He stood open, his chair skidding back. “I think, perhaps, that we have come to an impasse.”

  “And where would that impasse be?”

  “Roughly around the part where I get told who I should and shouldn’t consort with.” He brushed off his tunic. “Decisions on the matter are, I believe, best left in the hands of the Light. But since it’s such a worldly affair, I find myself the next best candidate.”

  Her smile was now beginning to wane. “Whatever you intend to do-”

  “What I intend to do,” He said over her, “Is of no concern to you. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will take up your suggestion. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can read up on some of the Carathiliarian laws, would you?”

  He turned to leave and felt a tug. The Talradian, her poise vanishing, held onto his shoulder. “I am warning you, missionary. You’re entering a war bloodier than you could ever imagine.”

  He gave her a long look, staring into her glass eyes. “I appreciate your offer, though I must disagree. I believe I can imagine it.”

  And for once, he was telling the truth.

  So he turned his back on the Talradian and tried to ignore the foreboding feeling creeping into his heart.