Akorthyss shook with fever and everything his skin touched was damp. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as menials and attendants shuffled about. His vision swam as flickering light played dancing patterns over his aching head.

  “We need orders!” a thin voice was yelling.

  “The captain is in no position to be giving orders to anyone. Lieutenant, you are in charge now.” a forceful voice replied.

  “Me? I… what about the barricade?” the lieutenant asked.

  “You need to hold it. No matter what happens, you need to hold it. We’re still evacuating to the inner city Arcanum. That’s going to take another six hours at the earliest.” The other voice said.

  “The barricade won’t hold for another twenty minutes, much less six hours! We need to collapse the street.”

  “Not an option. The cellars are connected on the boulevard. The Scorn can get all the way to Dawn Square if we collapse this street.”

  “What if we send a couple of men down to seal them off?”

  “That will choke off supply lines to the outer walls.”

  “They already breached the fuckin walls!” the Lieutenant squeaked. “The bloody Scorn are already fighting us in the streets, there’s nowhere left to run but deeper in!”

  “They’ve breached one gate. One. The partitions are holding. If we let them down below, we’ll be fighting them on two fronts. It can’t be done. Get out there and hold that barricade. Help is coming, and if we can break the assault, we can chase them back to the gate.”

  Akorthyss glanced at the fretting lieutenant. Enrikko - that boy who had been squire to his brother before he died a few years ago. It would have been good to see him under better circumstances, but sentimentality was a lethal luxury. Then there was Perrithi, whose glower was like a bastion on its own. As he glanced back at the Lieutenant, the soldier met his eye.

  “Captain! What do we do?”

  “That’s enough!” the wizard shouted, but Akorthyss lifted his palm.

  “If we do a collapse at Gurtmond Street, we’ll still have a few to fight on the surface, but it’ll stop their advance. We can use the portcullises at Gurtmond and Chaffer to block off entry and exit, except for one route, which we will still need to hold. Should be easier with fewer men though, given the relative narrowness of the corridor.”

  The captain broke into a coughing fit as he finished, and Perrithi stepped aside so the Lieutenant could get a couple of steps closer.

  “Why didn’t we do that before?” Enrikko asked.

  “Didn’t need to before, but if the barricade is already lost, then they must be on our doorstep now.”

  Perrithi nodded. “Go then. Get a few good men to close the portcullises. I’ll have one of my aids bring the powder charges down at once.”

  Enrikko nodded, and sprinted back to the line, armor clattering.

  “That won’t buy us much time.” Akorthyss groaned.

  “I know. Help isn’t coming yet either. They’re all engaged on the other fronts.” the wizard said before taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “Martial Gjeron of Indaal sent word that help was coming by sea, but then we lost the port. I believe they are currently engaged at the canals, and no one will be coming until we can dislodge the Scorn presence there.”

  Akorthyss groaned before shifting into a sitting position. He pulled his damp blanket down to his hips, and clenched his teeth with the pain and exertion of it.

  “I wouldn’t-” Perrithi started, but Akorthyss waved a hand at him. “Then don’t.” he said, before taking stock of his injuries.

  His bandages were already stained with blood, but he wasn’t as wounded as he had been. Clearly a blood mage had seen him at some point, but only the most basic healing had come of it. He pulled some of the wrapping away to glimpse one of his wounds. Blackened veins, shriveling with corruption. The voidmark of the rift had touched him, and he was already looking worse for wear. Then, Perrithi’s hand pressed on his own to hide what lay beneath.

  “It’s better if you don’t look at it, captain. I’m out of ingredients to make more cures. We are waiting for a Thaumaturge to cure the scorn’s poison. It will.. Just take some time..”

  “We don’t have time.” the captain said, grabbing the cup by his bed.

  “I suppose not.” Perrithi said.

  Akorthyss had never been so thirsty in all his life, but ever since those arrows had hit him, it had been unquenchable.

  “Careful now, you’re going to get your bandages wet.”

  He set the cup down a bit harder than he intended to, breathing in gasps.

  “They’ll need to be swapped out soon enough anyway. As for the defense, I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

  “You seem eager.” the mage said.

  “I never lose. I’m not about to start now. You dodged my question though - Do you have any ideas?”

  “I do have one… but I’m not sure you’ll approve of it.”

  “Why didn’t you bring it up before?”

  Perrithi gave him a wry smile, then a frown. “I didn’t think I’d need to before.”

  The night continued on as the Watchers mingled with the expedition. Cups began to pile up on the table as the moon crept higher in the sky. Noriah helped Constan pack up his instrument, and take it to the study. Telvenni spoke with Lihada for a time outside in the lookout.

  When everyone else had gone their separate ways, only Kluataal, Eruun, and Vandasa remained in the dining hall by the mantle.

  Kluataal shifted his shoulder free of his coveralls, and pointed to the blue eyed fish that was on his lower bicep. His undershirt was stained with sweat, but Vandasa and Eruun didn’t seem to mind, so he went on with his story.

  “So, like I said, usually fish tattoos don’t have eyes. It’s always the birds that have eyes. That’s - a bird’s whole thing. Seeing, I mean.” he said, and the others nodded. They were beginning to sober up by this point, but the spirits hadn’t completely worn off yet.

  “But the thing about fish- Fish don’t see all that well, so when a tattoo of a fish has colored eyes, that usually means the person that fish represents - to you, I mean…. Well, let’s just say, they got more perceptive later in life…. Listen, you might have been a fish before, but you may not be a fish now. And, I mean, that’s assuming every tattoo has a story. Some of mine are just… a good way to start a conversation…”

  Eruun looked him up and down. “I don’t imagine you’ll have too much trouble starting a conversation… you seem to have plenty of things to talk about.”

  Kluataal glanced at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Vandasa giggled. “Don’t even worry about it… but he’s absolutely right.” she said, and the two watchers snickered together while Kluataal scratched his ear.

  Then, Lihada opened the door and stepped inside with Colonel Deverio. The two of them were carrying on a conversation without the briefest pause. The rain had already stopped, but they were both still soggy as they trudged their muddy boots up the steps.

  “So, if that’s all there is, then we shouldn’t need more than a couple of watchers for that. I’m pretty sure if you just took Jonas you could figure it out.” Lihada said.

  “And what if they try something? You’ve seen what the Marked can do when they get cornered. They fight like animals. We’re not exactly sending them home with a slap on the wrist. If the miller is right, we might have a real scrap on our hands.” Deverio said, rising to the top of the steps.

  Vandasa and Eruun were both staring as he walked in, and as Lihada came after, they all studied each other for a moment.

  “So… the watchers fighting something, huh? Maybe we can help?” Kluataal asked, but truthfully, he was in absolutely no shape to be helping anyone at the moment.

  “It’s none of your concern.” Deverio said. “You should be asleep already.”

  “Well I’m not. Also, if you’re going to be escorting us through the city, we might as well do what we can to help you with your stuff.”

  Deverio was about to say something, but Eruun spoke first. “Oh, we’ll escort you, but Watcher business isn’t for outside ears. You seem like good people, but you haven’t been trained for this. Too many risks.”

  “I wasn’t talking about fighting or helping with the investigation. I can tinker. I can enchant too, and so can Madrisi. Maybe we can help you with your gear if nothing else.” Kluataal pointed to Lihada. “You said you could use Jonas’ help. If we help Jonas, maybe we can give him more time to help you.”

  Deverio considered him for a moment. “I’ll have to sleep on it. I suggest you sleep on it too.”

  Lihada smiled at the colonel, “Don’t take too long, boss. I’d love to see Jonas get back in the field.”

  Kluataal shrugged. “It’s not like we have much else to be doing right now.”

  Deverio nodded and made his way toward the other staircase. Lihada walked over to Cartizi and started shaking him awake for his turn at watch. Eruun stood up and stretched, yawning.

  “I’m going to head up too. Too much to do tomorrow for us to be staying up like children.” Eruun said, before grabbing his battered black coat and throwing it over his arm. “You win, Vanny. He’s all yours.”

  As the rest of the room parted ways, Vandasa gave Kluataal a wicked grin, and unfastened the top two buttons on her shirt. “You know, you might not think you have much to do, but I can think of a few things.”

  “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, a mixture of panic and excitement building in him.

  She stood up, grabbed the mitts off the table, then picked up the pot of boiling water on the fire. “First, you can help me wash some clothes.” she said.

  He seemed markedly less excited at that prospect, but as she crossed the room toward him, she bent down at the waist to set the pot on the footstool. She met him at eye level as he stared down her open shirt, then, she reached out with a finger and plucked a patch of dry mud off his pants.

  “First, we need to get that mud off of you. The tub isn’t all that comfortable if it’s just full of cold water though… After that.. we’ll see.” she said before standing back up to her full height, and walking past him, tail swishing over his arm and up his neck as she walked by.

  He took a deep shuttering breath as a tingle ran up his spine. Then, he stood up to follow.

  Down the steps he went, following this vitrian woman he had just met. Both of them half drunk, and both definitely making an ill advised decision.

  She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and he followed soon after. When she opened a door to a cellar, she glanced at him, then left the door open for him to follow.

  At the sound of sloshing water, Kluataal stepped into a warm, humid room. It was pitch black for an instant before he heard a match strike. A faint glow enveloped a stall near the back, and a lantern was placed on a pedestal at its mouth by a graceful hand.

  The room was still dark, but he could make out the shapes and character of the room well enough. It was full of stone walled stalls intermittently spattered with cobwebs near the ceiling, and wooden tubs with curtains roped to the iron pipes running in all directions. Patches, welds, and discolored concrete slabs from centuries of use, reuse, and repair permeated the room under the thin layer of steam that drifted up from the tub at the back.

  Metal ground against metal as a valve turned, and claws clicked against stones while more water trickled through the walls. Vandasa was taking off her jacket as she stepped into view. She stared at Kluataal as her fingers pried at the buttons. The yellowy green reflection in the back of her eyes glinted in the lambent flicker of the lamp light.

  “The water is always a little cool, but never cold enough to freeze. Even on the coldest winter days, it’s still the same temperature, more or less. One pot of hot water should be enough for just us.” she said, crossing the room toward him.

  “What about my clothes?”

  “The clothes come after…” she said, before grabbing him by his still open coveralls and tugging them off of his shoulders with a quick, slightly forceful gesture.

  “First… I want to see what the rest of your tattoos look like.” she said. Then, her hands slipped around his ribs, claws lacing his skin before they came to rest on his spine. Her chest pressed against his for an instant before she tugged his shirt up and over his head.

  The beads in his hair jangled as they settled back around his shoulders, and he stared at her - wild eyed like a faun in the spring. She traced an eel that ran from his shoulder to his chest, then around a snake that slithered over his diaphragm before resting her hand on his hip.

  “There. Isn’t that better?” she asked before licking her lips.

  Kluataal grabbed her jacket and pulled it down, dropping it on the floor, then pulled her into an embrace. When her chin rested against his neck, he whispered, “You tell me.”

  She purred a chuckle as she took a step back, and grabbed his hand, tugging him so urgently he nearly stumbled over the stone.

  When they stood near the tub, she let him go to turn off the facet, and he turned to pry his boots off. He tossed his coveralls into a cut-out shelf in the rock, and he turned back to face her while she stepped over the wall and sat down gracefully in the shallow water.

  She sank all the way to her breasts as she turned to face him, then she pointed up. “Bring the lamp in.. and draw the curtain, will you? Should be just us down here, but… well, you never know.”

  Kluataal swallowed before turning to grab the lamp. Then, with the scratching of metal, the curtain closed around them, shrouding the rest of the room back into shadow.

  Noriah was already confused at the path they had taken through the watchtower. Somehow, the already massive structure was even more impressive inside. Hallways tunneled through the mountain to form an anthill of chambers too complex for her to have learned in one go. At some point, they’d come to a library of surprising size that Constan merely referred to as ‘the study’. Rather than stopping anywhere in it, they went all the way to the back corner.

  “So you keep it all the way back here? You have to come back here every time you want to play it?” Noriah asked, while shifting the dulcimer’s stand to one side.

  Constan shook his head. “I keep all my instruments in the back of the study. I can only play one of them at a time though, so I only keep one out. We’ll be on the move soon, so I need something a little lighter.” he said before setting the instrument down and turning to an old wardrobe. Noriah could see paint flaking off of it in all the places where it had cracked over the years. Spiderwebs of paint chips splayed over the surface of the doors and littered the dusty floor. The ancient books around the corner lent the space a smell like the Continental Library back in Alberek.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  When Constan opened the doors, Noriah could see six different large instrument cases as well as a few small ones in the cubbies where shoes were supposed to go. Constan gently placed the dulcimer within, then turned around to take the scissor stand from her.

  “So you know how to play all of these?” she asked.

  “Some better than others. The dulcimer is my best large instrument. I can play all of them at least a little though.” he replied, before taking a small metal tube with a waxthread cord out of one of the cubbies. It was simple and silver with a few decades of scratches and dents on it.

  “A flute?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “Tin whistle, actually.” he said as he pulled the cord over his head and tucked the whistle into his vest. He closed the doors to the wardrobe, then turned to Noriah. He was a pale man, even for a luranite, and his golden hair was cropped short, nearly to his scalp. He was all angles and cheekbones to Noriah’s eyes. A skeleton with a little bit of sinewy muscle stretched over him to give his skin a little more volume.

  “So… do you… do anything else?” Noriah asked.

  “Like what? As a watcher, d’yamean? I’m a thaumaturge. I commune with the spirits, and do a bit of blade casting. I’m not half the swordsman that Seigmoor is - maybe not even half the swordsman Cartizi is, but I know my way around a blade at least.”

  “I mean, well… I guess that answers my question.” Noriah mumbled, scratching her neck. She was really curious about his hobbies, but she wasn’t going to go saying that out loud.

  “What about you? What do you do for the expedition?” Constan asked, walking slowly back toward the entrance of the study. Noriah began to follow.

  “Well, I.. eh.. I’m… I make potions.” she said.

  “You’re an alchemist, then?” Constan asked. “I can respect that.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call myself an alchemist. I’ve only been doing it for two years.” she said.

  “Two years? That’s more experience than most people have.” Constan said, crossing the study. Before they reached the other side, however, the two of them saw a horned figure round the corner from the common room.

  “Even an apprentice has the right to be called what they are, Noriah. If you practice Alchemy, you are an Alchemist. The title is as much yours as anyone else’s.” Lomren said as he stepped into the room, cane in hand. He adjusted his monocle, and flexed his back until he popped his hip. “It is only the title of Wizard that is reserved for a special few, and you may be one of their number in days to come.”

  “Torsis pain keeping you up again?” Constan asked.

  Lomren sighed. “Torsis again,” he confirmed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get back in the field at this rate.”

  “You should try sleeping more.” Constan said.

  Lomren limped to his desk in the study, and sat down gently in his padded chair. “A wizard doesn’t sleep until he is ready to study his own dreams.” he said, before tapping his cane on the floor. Arcane runes flashed on its surface, and it vanished in a swishing of starlight. “That’s what the old masters used to say, anyway. I’ll never pass my exams if I can’t keep my joints from stiffening up… It’s not sleep that plagues me, I don’t believe.”

  Constan nodded. “Then why do you only get blind n’ stiff when you don’t sleep enough?”

  “I sleep a normal amount, thank you.” Lomren said, but Constan just nodded, eyes rolling.

  Noriah took a step forward. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you a depossessed?”

  “No. I am the first son of a man who bore the mark of Alifaen Edraskan. None of my siblings inherited my father’s… markers.” Lomren said.

  “So you are an Alef?”

  “Something like that.” he said, grabbing a book off of his desk and opening it to where the ribbon was set. “I suspect there is more to Edraskan than was initially believed. Something that the old tales missed which could explain all of this.”

  Constan shifted. “Sure, maybe there is something to it. You won’t find it tonight though.”

  Lomren didn’t even take his eyes off the page as he continued to read. “You don’t know that. Maybe Noriah knows something neither of us do. Have you even considered that?”

  Constan looked at her, and she froze. Then, she patted her pockets. “I might.” she said, before pulling out a vial with a sponge inside. A brown liquid that clung to the glass lay within, but it couldn’t get past the sponge. Amorine catalyst. A rock bled with magic. She stuffed it back into her pocket. She couldn’t give something that valuable away - not even to a watcher.

  “What was that?” Constan asked.

  Noriah froze. “No- nothing. It’s nothing. It’s just something I’ve been working on. Experimental. Could be dangerous.” she said while shuffling for something else. When her hands found the tubes lining her belt, she gasped.

  “I have Gebberdine’s Panacea. That might work!”

  Lomren grinned in recognition. “That certainly does work. It’s only a temporary fix though, and certainly not a habit I can afford to start.”

  Noriah set the vial down next to Lomren’s hand as he reached for the page corner, and it froze in place. Then, he plucked it from the wood. He chuckled as he stared at it.

  “Are you giving me this?” he asked.

  “Is something wrong with that?” Noriah asked, suddenly worried, but Lomren continued to stare at it a moment longer.

  He turned to her as he spoke. “Nothing is wrong… It’s just…” their eyes met. “It’s funny how… insignificant something can be to someone. A token gesture of good faith. Yet, it means so much to someone else.” He said, nodding. “I don’t think I will drink this tonight. There will be a better time to make use of it. Either way, thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.” Noriah said, but it certainly hadn’t been nothing. It had taken her months to learn how to make the contents of that vial, but now she could make as much of it as she could find ingredients for. It was all worth it for moments like these. She smiled back, and turned to Constan.

  “I… well.. I think it’s time I go to bed. It was good meeting you.” she said.

  “Likewise." he replied.

  As morning came, so did a light drizzle from the sea. Kluataal thought he heard the door click as the rain pattered down on the stones, but he couldn’t be sure. He pulled the quilt over his shoulder and turned toward the door, but there was nothing to see. Vandasa was not in the bed with him, and there was no one else in the room. The only trace of anyone else that may have been there was her scent on the sheets. Even that, however, was tinged slightly with wet dog.

  He sat up in her bed, and glanced around the room to see how the morning light had transformed everything. Previously, the somewhat foreboding sight of animal skins and three dozen weapons of different styles and sizes had intimidated him. They lent the place the air of a torture chamber rather than a bedroom. In the light of day; however, it all seemed much more homely. Like a barbarian’s hall rather than a dungeon.

  He rubbed his eyes before glancing at the desk in the corner, then the posts at the foot of the bed. One of the bedposts was covered in marks engraved in the hard wood.

  Despite all the strange decorations, it was still leagues better than the basement, and the beds were a great deal more comfortable too.

  None of that helped with the shameful weight that sat in his gut. He was in a stranger’s bed again, and not even for the first time that month. It had been a sloppy thing, all told. Getting drunk with a lunarian, then fucking her. What’s worse, at the point they could have parted ways, he followed her up the stairs. The scratches up his back told a story of fitful sleep, and a round two he barely remembered. What was he thinking?

  He put his feet on the floor, then reached down for his clothes. By the soreness in his thighs, there had definitely been a round two.

  When the knocking came, Colonel Deverio was already awake, dragging a razor over the coarse hairs on his chin. He lifted the blade away from his neck for a moment, and looked to the door.

  “Come in.”

  When the knob turned, he was expecting Cartizi to saunter in, like he usually did when his shift was up, but instead, the silent silhouette of Siegmoor stood there, green eyes blinking in the dark.

  “What do you need?” Deverio asked.

  “One of the newcomers is upstairs with us.” he said.

  “Vandasa brought that southerner up with her?” Deverio asked before turning back to the mirror and carving off another swathe of stubble.

  “The upstairs is kept under lock and key to stop outsiders from having access to us. It’s a security measure.” the massive cat warrior said before ducking into the room and closing the door without a sound.

  “Is it because he’s with your wife?”

  “Ex wife, and no. What she does has been solely her business for half a decade. My concern is that none of the other watchers bring their lovers upstairs with them.”

  “Cartizi did.”

  “-And we both gave him an earful for it. He also hasn’t done it since. We don’t know these people.”

  “We shared a table with them last night, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, WE did, but notably, not you. Besides, one night of fellowship does not a friend make.”

  “But it can make a lover, apparently.” he said, tapping a mixture of clippings and lather into the bowl of water in front of his mirror.

  “Ah yes, another line for her bedpost. You may have forgotten what we are up against, but I have not. Any one of these people could be riftmarked.”

  “We aren’t dead, are we?” Deverio said, before turning on the vitrian and staring up at him. “If they were riftmarked, they would have done something by now. The fact is, most people aren’t, and they aren’t from around here. The village people, I understand, but people from up north? We would have felt something by now. This isn’t about purity or security.”

  “Just talk to her.” Seigmoor said “All I’m asking is for you to be as even handed as you were with Cartizi. Tell her that she must abide by the same rules as the rest of us.”

  Deverio sighed. “You didn’t seem all that concerned when she went out to the village to find men.”

  “I was, but I said nothing because it didn’t put the rest of us in danger. Please, colonel. I’m asking you as a watcher- a friend. Deverio, talk to Vandasa. Gjeron’s watch is sacred to us. No one else brings their one night stands up to the tower, we can’t make exceptions.”

  “Alright. I’ll talk to her.” he said, nodding and glancing at the early morning light beaming through his window. “Wake the others - see if we can get breakfast started, but leave Vandasa to me.”

  “She is already downstairs.”

  “What?” the colonel asked.

  “And she has already started breakfast. It is only the southlander who remains in her room.”

  Deverio’s brow twitched as he tightened his lip. “You should have led with that. Having someone upstairs is bad enough, but leaving them unsupervised is unacceptable.” he said, grabbing the towel and wiping down his face. He glanced at his reflection for good measure. He hadn’t touched the sideburns yet, but they were even. Good enough.

  Kluataal was just buttoning up his coveralls when the door swung open and Colonel Deverio stormed in. He reached down and scooped up Kluataal’s socks off a drying rack before tossing them in his hands.

  “Get out. The upstairs is for Watchers only.”

  “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized -” he began, but the colonel cut him off.

  “It’s fine. Just get out, and we won’t bring it up again.”

  Kluataal stared at him a moment before the colonel waved his hand in a circle and snapped his fingers.

  “Now, preferably. I’m not asking.”

  “Right.” he muttered, tugging on his sock.

  When they made it downstairs, Vandasa was just pulling a rack of muffins out of the oven by the fireplace while Eruun cut slices of cheese from a wedge they had in the cupboard.

  “Vandasa, we need to talk.” the colonel said.

  “Colonel! You know, you look quite fetching with sideburns.”

  “I’ll not be distracted -” the colonel began.

  “I’m really so sorry, I didn’t realize-” Kluataal said for the fourth time that morning, but Deverio clapped him on the shoulder, before he could continue. Then, as if on cue, the door to the basement swung open. Madrisi and Cartizi were talking as they strode in, and the others turned to face them.

  “Wait - if we’re going to talk about it, we should at least bring the others into the conversation.” Madrisi said as Telvenni and Noriah followed them in.

  The colonel side eyed Vandasa, but the huntress was dutifully not looking at the colonel.

  “Your swordsman and I have been talking a bit about your newest investigation. Cartizi says that the miller and the innkeeper have sent you on some kind of wild goose chase? I happen to know a few people in my circle who could help, assuming you’re willing to help me. All I need are details, which Cartizi says only you can give me.”

  The colonel squared his jaw, and glared at Cartizi. “Mutiny is it?” he said, before glancing back at Vandasa, then to Madrisi.

  “Oh no sir. I just feel like we could make better use of who’s available. Your butler- Telvenni, was it? What do you know about nobles in the local township?” Cartizi said, beckoning him forward.

  “There are four m’lord. Baron Coswaine served with my regiment as a political officer - a cruel fellow, to be sure, but honest. Then there is his Sister, Baroness Teluso. I have met her only once, but she did not strike me as particularly engaging company. The other two, Countess Marina Voya and Count Hadsen Voya are the local lords. They are… maneuverable players in the Peerage. Lord Hadsen was once a knight under Lady Teluso - now he is lord governor. Another man I once served with. Merciless as a snake, and just as clever.”

  Colonel Deverio shifted his glance between the two of them, then back to Cartizi. He wanted to explode at that particular moment, but instead, the fire in him puttered out. What was the use, afterall? He lifted his hands up, closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath.

  “Fine. You might be useful.” Deverio said “I know when I’m pissing away good opportunities. If you’re so bent on working for the watchers, who am I to stop you?” he said. “Unfortunately, I still can’t let you in on the details. It’s just not something I can tell you about. Even if I did, it still wouldn’t change my mind about taking you into the city today.”

  “Why not?” Madrisi demanded.

  “Because there are trade secrets that you are not allowed to know unless you are one of us. There’s simply no other way.” the colonel said. “Unless you want to take the vow, I will tell you what you are allowed to know, and I will ask you what I need to ask you when I need to ask about it.”

  “So what, you want me to join the watchers? Is that it? Will that make you change your mind?” Madrisi asked.

  “That’s not- no, absolutely not. You’d have to go to the rift for training, and if you can’t wait one day to enter the city, you certainly can’t wait a few months in the southlands. Regardless, even if you joined the watchers, Telvenni would be the person we need the information from.”

  Madrisi looked equal parts annoyed, terrified, and insulted as he stared at Deverio. Then the lordling started waving his hands about as he mouthed a few wordless gasps.

  “Telli?” he asked, turning to his butler. “Would- well, perhaps-”

  Telvenni put his hand to his chest, looking oddly amused. “Well, it’s not like I was planning on doing anything for the next three months, anyway. I guess I’ll just send a pigeon for my wife and have her pack all her things and ship them to Cadnod’s Refuge post-haste.”

  Madrisi’s face sank. “What if I go with you?” he asked, but Telvenni balked.

  “Are you seriously considering dropping everything and becoming a watcher so you can go play soldier in the sunken city? Are you listening to yourself right now? You’ve totally lost it. Why can’t we just wait a few days for the good Colonel to conduct his investigation? If we can’t wait a few days, we may as well pack it up and go home instead of trekking down south for a few months.”

  “You won’t need months.” The colonel said, shifting. “There is one other way to become a watcher… it’s just not how most people do it.”

  “No...” Eruun whispered.

  “Can’t we just accept their help?” Cartizi asked.

  “A watcher is only as good as his info. I don’t like it either, but the colonel is right.” Vandasa added. “It’s the only way.”

  Everyone looked to the colonel as he spoke the words - cautiously and deliberately. “There is a role among the watchers - a Consultant. If you are named a consultant, you could skip most of what makes a watcher what we are. You would have access to some of our archives, and it would entitle you to Watcher legal status.”

  “That’s not all, is it?” Telvenni cautioned.

  Deverio tapped his ear. “In order to become a watcher consultant, you still have to do the rituals. Normally, we would need to take you to a stronghold to be conditioned before the first ritual. For some reason I cannot fathom - we don’t have that kind of time.” Deverio grabbed Vandasa’s mug off the table and took a sip of whatever was inside. It was sweet, acidic, and it burned with liquor.

  “The watchers have to go through two rituals that will change you for the rest of your life. First, the Revealing, then, the Rebinding. The Revealing usually needs the conditioning I mentioned. The only requirement for the Rebinding is that the Revealing must be complete first. Without the conditioning though, the Revealing can be… An ordeal. Some people have lost swathes of their memories from it.”

  “Can it kill us?” Madrisi asked, paling from the mood the room had taken.

  Cartizi shook his head. “No, but it will… twist your mind. It’s only a few hours, but… it feels a lot longer than that.”

  Seigmoor began to whisper. “It can hurt. The pain is temporary though. At the end, you will have taken the first step on a path of something more.”

  The colonel nodded. “You may lose a few memories, but you will gain a wealth of foresight, and a spiritual connection to the other watchers… or at least, anyone who has ever undergone the Revealing. After the rebinding, anyone who is riftmarked will be purified of their corruption - severed from that power forever. It will cost you something though. You can never know the entire spectrum of your own personality again. Anger will only ever come in short bursts, and true hatred will be entirely beyond you. That’s what the Scorn are, afterall. Hatred, manifest.” The colonel said, locking eyes with the young lordling. The room was quiet, save for the pattering of spring rain as the two of them considered the Colonel’s words.

  “What say you? Is your quest so important that you’d be willing to rebind?”

  A dreadful silence filled the space as heartbeats thudded in ears, and the faint, wispy wind trickled through the cracks and windows of the fortress.

  Madrisi glanced at the crumbling mortar, which had eroded away from the stone, then back to the colonel, who stared expectantly at him, his head lowered, his eyes in shadow.

  “Will you and your watchers assist me if I do this?” Madrisi finally asked.

  Deverio gave him half a smile. “You’ll be one of my watchers if you do this. If your heart is still set on this path after the ritual, then we’ll have no choice but to help you.” the colonel replied. “There is, frankly, no conceivable way you could still be this hellbent on getting into the city this week once your eyes have been opened.”

  “And I can still live my life? I can leave the Watchers to pursue my other interests if I wish?”

  “Yes… in a manner of speaking. You can walk away from this tower if you want to, but you never really leave the watchers. Even for those that go their separate ways, we may come for you later in your life to ask questions and gather information. We might even conscript you if the situation is dire. If the watchers are conscripting you though, the entire world will be at stake.”

  Madrisi walked up to the colonel, took the cup from his hand, and drank the rest of its contents before setting the mug down on the table. The swill of it burned his throat, and he grimaced as his eyes began to water.

  “There is nothing in my life as important as this. I will do the rebinding, and I will help you in your investigation. Now, tell me what I have to do.”

  The colonel turned to Telvenni. “What say you, Telvenni? Is your devotion such that you would follow your master’s trail?”

  Telvenni was stuffing herbs into his pipe from a small can he had taken out of his breast pocket. He looked up to the colonel, then to Madrisi.

  “I made a promise to Gil that I would never let anything happen to his son.” Telvenni said. “I never said anything about joining a clandestine gang of demon hunters.”

  “Telli-” Madrisi began, but the butler huffed a laugh, and held up a palm instead.

  “You say we will have a spiritual connection?” Telvenni asked.

  “Especially with those that undertake the ritual with you, or are present when you go through it.” Deverio said.

  Telvenni struck a match on the heel of his boot, and lifted it to the pipe, puffing thoughtfully. “This rebinding… it can’t kill me?”

  “Hasn’t killed anyone yet.” The colonel said.

  Telvenni remembered the blood on his hands. The smell of rotting corpses. Phantoms with rending claws, butchering the dead and the dying. The sound of the stone cracking as the wall came down, and Helvala’s tears… then the blood.. Her blood, hot and pouring into his hands as he pressed on the wound. He just couldn’t get it off. He could almost smell the blood and smoke before he glanced at his sleeves and grounded himself. Blue sleeves, brown leather cuffs. Telvenni swallowed and coughed, before lowering his pipe. “All I have to lose are memories?” his voice turned ragged as he asked the question.

  “Yes.” the colonel said.

  “Then, I will do it.”