Days passed, fall fading more and more to winter. As Emeston was in the southernmost reaches of the Realm, even the depths of winters rarely got cold enough for even a light snow, but the difference was still apparent, as each day was slightly cooler than the last.

  After that first night, Lain had quickly fallen into an almost domestic rhythm with Jewel, one that had always eluded her in her past relationships.

  Some distance still hung between the women–their pasts were too different to be so easily overcome–but with each day, they came slightly closer to understanding each other, even if they both carefully avoided the topics of their personal history. While Lain had her guesses, Jewel seemed reluctant to talk about exactly what had brought her to Lowrun–and since Lain didn’t want to expose some of the darker secrets of her own life to a girl that was quickly becoming so important to her, she was more than willing to keep the unspoken oath of silence.

  Still, their budding romance didn’t erase their pasts, and all too quickly, just a month after Jewel arrived in Lowrun, both women found a harbinger of their pasts encroaching on their peaceful days.

  Neither woman, however, expected that they would share such a key piece of who they had once been.

  #

  “Thanks for coming out,” Bors rumbled, the man even more grumpy than his usual bearing.

  Lain sidled to one side, finding herself a seat at the bar and letting Jewel speak for herself. She barely needed any coaching anymore, a more confident side of the once naive girl emerging in the wake of their relationship, even as Lain had found a piece of herself that was more than okay with taking a backseat to her new partner.

  “It’s not a problem,” Jewel said, “but would you mind sharing why you needed to see me? I wasn’t planning on checking in on your books until next month.”

  “It’s my supplier,” Bors explained, obviously somewhat uncomfortable. “I spoke to him about wanting to change my order, to go back to ordering bottles instead of these bar kegs of his. He came back a couple days later, but didn’t bring my order. Instead, he asked if I’d be willing to speak to the head of his consortium. She’s supposed to be coming through later this morning.”

  Lain snorted, while Jewel made a soft sound of understanding.

  “I see,” Jewel said. “These bar kegs must be a key part of the business’s profit margins, so they’re reluctant to go back to the harder to ship bottles.”

  From the bar, Lain added, “So now they’re going to bring out the big guns to try to convince you not to rock the boat.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Bors agreed. “That’s why I was hoping to have you on hand to help with the negotiations.

  Lain snorted. Sure, the barkeep likely really did want his new coincounter on hand–but having Lain, one of the best known freehand thieves in Emeston, certainly didn’t hurt things either.

  “Ah,” Jewel said, “I see no problem with that, but…” She gave Lain an uncomfortable look. The remnants of her Highwalk social training still made it hard for Jewel to force the issue of price the way a real freehand would, but that was fine.

  That was what Lain was there for.

  “Consulting fee,” Lain supplied for her.

  Bors nodded. “No problem. Just tell me what you need.”

  “We’ll take care of that after the meeting,” Jewel said, the relief obvious in her voice. “For now, I’d like to update my inventory records, make sure we have our numbers all set before he gets here.”

  “Aye, of course. Thank you, Jewel.”

  “It’s no problem,” Jewel said airily, the two already making for the back stockroom. At the door, Jewel paused for a moment, tilting her head at Lain.

  The rogue waved a hand. “You two do your thing,” she told them. “I’d just get in the way. I’ll be out here.”

  Jewel frowned, but nodded, while Bors added, “Help yourself. I have a kettle on, you know where the tea is.”

  Lain nodded easily, making a shooing motion. “I can take care of myself. You two go do your counting and all that.”

  It was still early, in the quiet time between breakfast and lunch. That meant that it would be hours yet before the Blackened Claw saw any significant business–rogues kept later hours than most, preferring to stay up deep into the night and often not waking until well past noon.

  That was fine by Lain. She had always been perfectly comfortable with only herself for company, and while things with Jewel had been going wonderfully, it still left her with less quiet time than she was used to. A little solitude while she and Bors were busy with inventory would be refreshing.

  She made her way to the Claw’s tea cabinet, selecting a blend with a mellow palette and a good amount of energy in it and scooping a few spoonfuls into a soft fabric tea bag. She added some hot water to an earthenware mug with the tea bag, grabbed an apple, and had just sat down for a simple breakfast when the door opened behind her.

  Lazily, Lain turned to greet whoever had come to the Claw so early, and as she looked over her shoulder, she froze.

  A woman, a few years older than Lain’s twenty-one years, stood in the doorway. A little shorter than average, she moved with the capable confidence of someone who cared little about their physical height. Her skin was the light tan common to the southern realm, her hair a pale cornflower yellow she had cut short, in a fashion closer to that of a noble than the common outlaw she really was. She wore functional, but fine clothes–soft leather breeches, a deep-cut tunic of washed out red silk, and a many-pocketed black vest sewn with intricate golden flourishes.

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  She greeted Lain with a familiar smile, and Lain felt like her heart stopped on the spot.

  She knew the woman who strode into the Claw with all the arrogant swagger of a Highwalk goldshit, even though Lain hadn’t seen her in years.

  Even though Lain had thought her dead.

  “Kole,” she said, the name coming out more as an accusation than a greeting.

  Still, she responded with an easy smile, like an old friend bumping into her at the market. “Lain,” she said. “Long time no see.”

  Lain didn’t think about her next move, her body moving without any active thought from her brain. She pulled a plain, unadorned wooden ring from one finger, and even as she did, it began to shift and grow in her grip.

  [Arboreal Flourishing] - Active, Conjuration - Use quintessence to cause wooden objects to grow in size. Quintessence cost varies based on volume produced.

  [Flexible Growth] - Active, Manipulation - Shape wood into simple shapes with a touch. Quintessence cost depends on size and complexity of manipulation.

  It took a mere moment for Lain’s wooden ring to become a jagged dagger of hardwood, and less than a second for her to close the distance between Kole and her seat, her dagger ready.

  Kole was ready for her. Despite being an inch or two shorter than Lain and likely weighing even less than her, Kole easily matched her speed and more than surpassed her strength, her own gifts giving her the boons to catch Lain’s descending hand by the wrist. A quick twist sent the wooden blade tumbling from Lain’s hands, and a smooth sweep sent Lain to the ground.

  Lain quickly rolled on her back, just in time to see a staff of hard black metal appear in Kole’s hands. She lifted it over her head, but Lain quickly slammed a palm against the wooden floorboard the traitor was standing on. The moment her skin made contact with the wood, Flexible Growth went to work, reshaping the floorboard, causing it to suddenly flip under Kole’s foot, sending the woman stumbling to one side.

  The staff went flying away, and Kole hastily lifted an empty hand even as Lain lunged at her again, a discus of barely-visible blue force appearing between them.

  “Woah woah woah, Lain! Settle down!” Kole’s voice came out weirdly modulated by the kinetic barrier she had brought up between them.

  “What the fuck are you doing alive, Kole?” Lain snarled, pausing a half-step before she would’ve bounced off the mage’s shield spell.

  “That’s… a long story.”

  “No shit!” The rogue crouched low to the ground, her hands within easy reaching distance of the floor. Kole’s evocation spells gave her some flexibility–but Lain would like to see her manage to focus on any spells with half-a-dozen floor boards splintering through her. “Vamilla is dead because of you!”

  Kole rolled her eyes from behind the slight visual warping of the shield. “Vamilla is dead because of her own greed. She knew the risks when she tried to rob Telik.”

  “Maybe if her second was there to help her, she would’ve made it out clean!” Lain all but screamed, her vision wobbling a little with sheer rage. “We all thought Telik got you first!”

  Kole shrugged, giving Lain one of those flummoxed smiles she thought was so charming. It made Lain want to impale her on the spot. “He would’ve,” Kole explained, “so I ran for it. I bribed a smuggler that owed me a favor, and… Look, can we talk about this like adults? I’m happy to explain what happened, but I’d rather not do it while trying to prepare for your next attempt to murder me.”

  Lain lifted her upper lip in a snarl. “Reasons don’t matter, Kole. You’re a coward and a traitor. Give me one reason why I should hear you out.”

  Kole swallowed, and Lain took some small pleasure in seeing the discomfort that flashed across her face. “If nothing else… at least honor the Claw’s neutrality.”

  Lain started to snarl again, but forced herself to pause. She hated Kole–and the fact that she was right only made Lain hate her more. “Fine,” she finally spat. “At the very least, I won’t do Bors the disrespect of killing you here.”

  Kole nodded, the motion seemingly earnest and genuine–but Lain didn’t miss the flat, cold look that entered her eyes.

  That was the Kole she knew.

  Lain promptly stood, returning to the bar and leaving Kole sprawled on the floor–but even as she moved, Lain never quite exposed her back to the woman.

  She took a sip from her mug of tea–then clenched one hand over the one that held the cup, trying to still the shaking in her limbs.

  After a moment, Kole joined her at the bar, though she leaned back against it, propping her elbows on the bartop, rather than taking a seat for herself.

  “You wanted to talk,” Lain said, not trusting herself to look at the traitor. “Talk.”

  Kole nodded, and blew out a slow breath. “After things went south on Vamilla’s last job, I knew I had to get out of town. Telik was after me.”

  “Word was, he got you.”

  “I heard. I had gone deep into Undercrawl for a while, hiding out. Once the rumors reached me, I decided to let word of my death stay in the air. I bribed a smuggler who owed me a favor to get me out of the city, and hoped that Telik would rather let me go than reveal that the rumors were wrong and I had gotten away.

  “I ended up down in the Cliff Road, just a little east of Wavecrest.” Lain frowned and reached for her apple. Wavecrest was the most central town along the highroad that ran along the Realm’s southern coast. Most considered it the limits of Emeston’s reach along the Cliff Road. “I got dropped in this little town, Herrborough.Turns out, they were an old vineyard village, but they had run into some problems lately, getting gouged by their usual shippers.”

  Lain took a small breath, pieces starting to fit together in her head. “You’re not just here by chance,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “You’re the merchant that Bors is supposed to be meeting with.”

  Kole lifted a hand and rubbed at her mouth. “I am. It just sort of happened. I helped the people of Herrborough set up a new trade deal, paid out of pocket to get a few wagons running to move their supply. Then a couple other small village brewers and vinters caught wind and wanted the same deal. Then I ended up buying control of a couple independent merchant companies… And then one day I realized that the Chipped Jet Consortium had become a major name in the alcohol trade.”

  “And then you decided to come back here?” Lain asked, accusation hanging heavy in her voice.

  Kole just shrugged. “Every major business in the Heartlands needs to have a presence in Emeston,” she explained. “Vamilla, the Greys, Telik, all of that is ancient history, Lain. You know how Lowrun works. Now I’m Kolaven. Just another trade-gifted, trying to connect with some of my old Lowrun contacts and get settled in the city.”

  Lain snorted. “You expect me to believe that? It might’ve been a few years, Kole, but you’re still you. You’re running some sort of con.”

  Kole gave Lain a look that was a little too hurt, a little too genuine. Lain knew a lie when she saw one.

  “I’m hurt, Lain.”

  “Good.”

  Before Lain could continue, the storeroom door opened, and Bors emerged from the back. His heavy brow lifted a bit at the sight of Kole, but he offered the woman only a short nod before turning to Lain.

  “Jewel wants you.”