* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

There's a knife in my hand. That means it's time to kill my brother again.

The motions are a well-practiced dance by this point, one I've memorized through repetition more than love. I tell myself it's just routine, just something for my mind to dote on as I dream. But my dreams never feel as if they're only dreams - possibly because in a previous life I knelt before Nul's throne in my nightmares.

But these are only dreams. Alestere, my dear brother, assures me of this, and he would know. I can trust Alestere, but I can't help but feel the wave of sorrow wash over me yet again as the knife hovers over his chest.

The Alestere I am killing isn't the one that talks me through my dreams during my waking life, though. That Alestere is an adult, but the one with a knife plunging down towards his chest is only a child. He was twelve when I killed-- when I split him. When I created Elete and Elessandre. When I broke my own world.

Still, it was a mercy that he lived through it, and I'll witness that mercy yet again in a moment. Do I have this nightmare every night? It's repeated enough to be rote to me. I'm about to be saved by Eistinn - he'll allow me to pull the knife up at the last moment, to spare my brother's life by rending it in twain. I remember the feel of his ghostly hand on mine - not something I noticed the first time I did this, the real time. After enough reenactments, I've had chances to notice the little details, though. I can practically feel his breath on my cheek--

Except, it isn't there, and he isn't there. Not this time. The knife sinks into Alestere's chest with a depth and finality that was never present before. I feel his life pass under my hands. I stay there then, watching, unable to pull the knife out and end my own life. I contemplate this thing I have done. My brother is actually dead - not split, not broken, but at an end entirely.

Where is Eistinn? What have I done? Why can't I pull away? This is the point where the dream ends, after all - having broken Alestere's soul in two, I pull out the knife and end my own life. Then I wake up. That's how it goes, so...

Why is it different this time? I'm just staring down at Alestere's corpse. When will I wake up? When will Eistinn help me move - is he late? Why?

Alestere's eyes open, allowing me to finally feel relief. It's just a little different this time, but things are about to be back to normal. I'll wake soon. I'll wake, and I'll have tea with my brother, and I'll relish in the fact that he survived me in waking life, no matter how many times I kill him in my dreams.

Then Alestere blinks his white-irised, pupilless eyes, giving me one chance to truly appreciate the horror that's washed over me. He smiles, all wicked and malice, an expression far older than the twelve years he lived. I'm still taking in the grin when he rips the knife out of himself and lunges, opening my throat for me. My blood runs out over his sheets, over his hands. There's a little splash up on his cheek, like a dab of rouge.

As I watch him, the room fades, the smile the only thing left in focus. After a few seconds, even that goes dark with the rest of my vision.

It gets so quiet when I die.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I make the tea. I can tell it'll be needed - by this point, I can tell when Jhe 'Brelle is going to wake. The flurry of muffled panic is usually a telltale sign, but that extra sense of dawning awareness in the back of my head, that bit of alertness that isn't actually mine, tends to be the real tipoff. It's similar to the feeling in the back of my mind I used to get when I got the hunch that Jhe h'Lete was sneaking out of bed and trying to work all night again. But they are brothers... or, were, I suppose. It's a little hard to say, but the point is, babysitting one is much like babysitting the other.

They're both too stubborn in every single way.

I'm pouring the tea when I hear his gasp from across the room. My gaze flicks up - what's he doing awake so early? Usually I have a couple more minutes to set out everything on a tray. Jhe 'Brelle's usual waking routine tends to be slow, muddled and grumpy.

Not this time, though. He sits straight up in bed, panting, his knuckles white as he clenches the blanket in left over desparation. His eyed are wide. I see more of the whites than I expected to, and in the middle of them his green irises seem to be tiny points. It's even more offset by that white mane of his. It's in total disarray, several strands hanging in front of his face.

I finish pouring the tea. "I'm in the room," I say. "I have the tea. I'm not a dream."

The routine seems to soothe his nerves just a little bit. His eyes actually focus now, and his gaze tracks me as I carry the tea tray to his bedside and set it on the nightstand. He stares down at me, so tall that he kind of towers over me even when he's propped up by pillows and buried in blankets. His expression is dubious.

I sigh, ready to repeat the routine once more. "You're really awake now. You must be awake, because I'm not a dream. I'm not a dream because I'm too strange for you to have made up." Relief creeps in around the edges of his face. The emotion's stronger than usual, but then... "That was worse than your usual nightmares."

His jaw tightens, his face shifting into a grimace. He never likes that I can sense him so clearly, but he never stops training me to do so, and never stops Jhe h'Leste from training me either. "I hope you couldn't see that." The dry crackle of his voice emphasizes the regret in it.

I bite my lip. It's been a month since he looked this bad after waking. I hope he isn't getting worse, after he's been getting better so steadily. "Not this time. I could just tell that you'd be awake soon." As much as I'm trying to help him, I'm relieved that I didn't see the nightmare or even get impressions of it. Jhe 'Brelle's mind comes up with the worst tortures for him. He's been through too much, and remembers more and more of it as he recovers.

His shoulders slump. "Good. That's... good." He finally notices the tea I'm proferring, then sniffs it. There's a bit of lemon in it, just like he prefers. Once he's taken his cup, I can finally sip from mine. It's nice to have a quiet moment. Jhe 'Brelle seems to feel the same. "Jhe Stevane... may you please go request that my brother take time out of his busy schedule to pay me a visit? I'm afraid it's a bit urgent."

I frown. Jhe 'Brelle can contact his brother with telepathy. And, well, so could I - he's Jhe h'Logos, after all. Most Poets can easily have his ear. Jhe 'Brelle just wants me to leave the room. And I understand, in a way. He probably wants a moment alone to collect himself. Still... we've had some close calls with him. I concentrate for a moment, and then feel a little weight settle on my shoulder. I gather up Millie, taking care with her wings, and set her in Jhe 'Brelle's lap.

He's not amused, but then, he doesn't approve of shenanigans on some analytical level. He told me once that he's not entirely certain that they can exist, and that annoys him. Still, he lets out a heavy sigh and then deigns to scratch Millie's ears. The girl lets out a throaty purr and settles in his lap, curling up into a ball.

Just a bit of a precaution. It's not good for Jhe 'Brelle to be alone and awake in a room that's far away from anyone who could help. He gets so depressed so easily, and well... once there was a very bad close call.

"I'll go get Jhe h'Logos." I bow just enough to be polite, but not enough to imply anything more, and then I leave his suite. At least it's not much of a surprise. I'd poured a third cup of tea, after all, and I only do that if someone's coming to drink it.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I open the door to Ebrelle's suite slowly, taking care to make enough noise out of the motion that he should be aware that I'm entering. It doesn't do to startle him yet - every time he lays eyes on me he looks, for the barest moment, as if he's seen a ghost.

I've often wondered whether I might qualify for one, to give him some credit.

As I step in, I give a nod to Stevane. She's standing outside patiently at my request - I have a feeling that brother is going to want a private talk this morning. However, something about her bearing makes me pause.

"You don't have to wait here, you realize. I can let you know when we're done." I raise an eyebrow. "Did you have somewhere to go?"

Her cheeks color more than she'd like. "But I... might be busy by the time you're finished talking." She has a bit of difficulty meeting my eyes, the dear. I act as if nothing's any different than normal.

"We'll likely be awhile. I've arranged for breakfast to be brought. I imagine you might even be back by the time we're done... you've excellent timing for these things."

She allows herself a small smile, then bows and takes her leave with just a slight edge of urgency. After she's clear of the hallway, I chuckle. It seems now that Jhe Myles has finished his special Armed training, he's got a bit of leisure time to himself. Quite generous of him to share it with Stevane.

I enter and close the door behind me. My brother looks over his shoulder, his back to me. "What was so funny?"

"The discretions and odd politeness of young love." I spy the tea tray resting by the bed and snag my cup before it gets cold. "You look more ready for the day than I expected. Are you beginning to feel better?"

He looks away. "I didn't want to fall back asleep."

"Stevane told me you had a night--"

"You know my dreams better than she does, Ele... Alestere." He wipes the corner of his mouth, as if the gesture could clean up the flub. He does that so often, even after two months of me... well, existing. It tends to trip his tongue more when he's emotional.

I let him be until he composes himself. He's used to fighting with me, after all - to be honest, I remember fighting with him as Elete as if I were an observer and not a participant. It's a bit unfair that I can keep my calm so much easier, I suppose, so I always try to do the polite thing.

He smooths over the sleeve of his robe, then lets out a sigh. "Would that I could just go without sleep, or go without dreams. I fail to see the wisdom or purpose in reliving the past, and it's nothing I want to revel in." He won't look at me, but I can see his eyes are full of pain... and that he's told a little bit of a lie. But then, pointing out to Ebrelle that he wallows in his own suffering would be far too harsh. To a certain extent, I think he should be allowed the liberty. Everyone deals with shock in their own way. "Did you see?" He finally looks me in the eyes, and in his all I can see is honest fear.

I shake my head. I saw as little of Ebrelle's dream as Stevane did.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Let's have our tea then, shall we?" He turns and walks to the table near the window... or rather, what we've made to look very much like a window. Ebrelle isn't kept anywhere near the perimeter or the building. Security calls for more precautions than that. Still, a bit of sunlight does him good, even if it's more Poetry than sun.

I note that, yet again, he's left gathering the tea tray and bringing it to the table to me. I suppose he'll never get used to not having servants about to attend to his every whim. And, well, he does count as my guest...

I tsk to myself as I pick up the tray. I'm still the little brother, and Ebrelle is just as bossy as ever in his convalescence, if in more subtle ways.

He's studying the play of light through the window. Once I settle down, he turns his attention to his tea, and then to me. He's measuring me in some way as he looks at me. Appraising for what? Integrity? I'm not really sure, but the look he's giving me has a sort of fear in it that I don't like. I'm just not comfortable with my brother looking as if he's afraid of me.

Then he tells me his dreams, and I understand the look.

"I've no plans of stabbing you in the night." Ebrelle looks up at me in shock. I crack half a smile. "I've always assumed you had similar sentiments to that - am I wrong?"

He can't help but laugh, the sound almost a cough as he splays his fingertips across his forehead. "No. I have no plans of stabbing you, Alestere."

"I'm glad to hear that. Then does this dream concern you for other reasons?"

He chews that over, his face drawn a bit tight. There's something he's hiding... or simply doesn't know. "I just... " He sighs and closes his eyes. "I don't know. It was different than the other nightmares. It changed, and it was a little too real." He opens his eyes, the fear in them betraying him. "I'm terrified of having it again."

I nod, mulling over a few possibilities. "We could guide you through dreams with Poetry, in shifts. That would keep you sound asleep through the night, at very little expense to anyone."

He doesn't look as averse to that idea now as when I first proposed it. Ebrelle guards his privacy fiercely. "Thank you. I'll consider it, and let you know my thoughts before night comes."

I nod. "If I may say so, Ebrelle, you look much better this morning, nightmares aside. It's quite a relief to see such a change from when you first came to stay here. I think you may recover faster than anyone expected."

He nods, his expression neutral. "Thank you. It's mostly due to your efforts, and that of your Poet." He sighs, turning his attention to the shenanigan now in his lap. Millie never did follow Stevane out, and she does delight in nesting on Ebrelle. "She annoys in the most useful ways."

I can't help but smile at that. "Shall I relay the compliment?" His only reply is an eyeroll. "Still. I do mean it, Ebrelle. Chethar said to be ready in eight months, and now that two have passed... I think you'll be on the throne earlier than that."

My brother's face darkens. I almost flinch back - I associate scowls like that with the past, with Ebrellin-i's... less-kind acts. "I feel better as the invalid I am right now than I ever did on that throne, Elete. Why would I return to it?"

I stare at him. The words won't come to me. I can't even blink. He just looks back at me, cold and unmoving, like stone.

"I won't. I won't become that again. The throne's price is too high - those meddling Chetharians can damn well pay it directly if they want a King in Audiva Rocale that badly."

I don't have words. I'm two months the Poet King, and I just don't have words now for him.

"You can tell them that, if you want." He looks away from me, finally, and I manage to blink.

"I'm sorry." I do owe him an apology. I have crossed some line, and he is upset. "I am unsure what I can do for you, but I will see what can be done. I... understand your reluctance." I don't, not entirely. He isn't the man he once was, he's no longer poisoned. So why swear off the throne like this? What good will that do but rend the Treaty and kill his daughter and end up with all of us destroyed?

"I accept your apology, Alestere." He folds his hands in his lap, looking away. "I'm... sorry to... have to say those things to you." He bites his lip. His eyes are wet. I can feel him searching for more words, but they just don't come to him. That's supposed to be my territory, after all. Instead of making him continue to search for them, I rise, go to his side, and wrap an arm around him. He leans against my shoulder.

Sometimes it's best to be quiet.

* * *
Lyric
* * *

My employer makes the strangest demands of me sometimes.

"Just sit still, Lyric dear. Such an obedient boy, as always." She slips the blade next to my neck, and I hear it whisper. Not the way that Arms whisper - this is just the swish of a honed edge through fine, fair hair. My hair. She dotes on the oddest things, but then it's always the little details that make for a convincing performance. I can't skimp. And she, well...

She has her particulars.

She runs her fingers through my freshly-cropped hair when she's finished with it. It flutters in layers above my neck, something of a bob. It's odd to have it loose and down like this, yet there's only a bare few strands of it brushing my neck. I'm so used to the high ponytail I preferred - and that Ebrellin-i used to adore.

But his opinion doesn't matter anymore, when it comes to me. I've found a new monarch to be the doll for - and to convince that I am just that doll and not someone who thinks and acts for myself. Letting her cut my hair how she wished was just a part of that, a little sacrifice. It's nothing, really.

...It should be nothing, but it grates just the same.

I stand straight and proper as she has me stand in front of a mirror and admire her handiwork. It's hard to mask my shock, but I do a decent enough job at it. I was expecting a change, but I didn't quite realize what she was trying to do until, well, she did it. The resemblance isn't identical, but it's... telling.

I look so much like Unkie now that it creeps me out.

It's not just the hair. I look older, now, and a little more serious. A little more like someone who does stuff on purpose - like someone who's more comfortable with being in command. Once the shock's faded, I sort of like the change.

Lady Thelea's smile spreads like a wine poured slowly and with care. Her hands, perched on my shoulders, clutch a little more possessively. "Perfect."

I only note that my makeup could use some touching up, and that I'd like to have some private time with the mirror soon so that I can practice working with the new angles the haircut's defining. That'll likely wait awhile - my employer doesn't give me much alone time to speak of.

We're done relocating to her new base far to the north of the Aurocan Palace, nearer to the coast of Moana than to Crux Radia. With the Kommissar dead, Thelea had no one capable of keeping the Radians out of the Aurocan Palace. Lyiannethe Manor is too close to Radia now to be of any value to Thelea. This position is out of the reach of Jhe o'Radia's forces... for now. It's an old place - not only has Thelea told me so, but I can feel it. I can feel the blood on it, too. It makes my skin crawl more than Lyiannethe Manor did, which of course explains why Thelea has no problem residing here at all. Rather, she seems to enjoy the dark halls that murmur with echoes, the old rough stone that sometimes crumbles at the touch, the cold and the grim grays and the odd stains here and there of ancient bloodspill.

It's rather homey to her.

Thelea pats my left shoulder, then releases her grip on me. She sighs, the sound a touch wistful. "Such a fine face, a regal bearing. Such a lovely sight to lay eyes upon whenever I wish. I'll miss the opportunity." She turns away. I break away from the mirror's gaze to watch her in her pacings.

"My Lady? Are you going somewhere?" I try to sound sad about it, but somewhere inside, I'm very excited. Sometimes it feels as if I can't even pee alone.

She tsks. "I must stay here, where our King can give me his direct commands, and where he need not have to fear for my continued safety. I will not leave this place for quite some time, Lyric. You however... you've replaced Cade's function, and he was our roaming agent."

My eyebrows lift.

"You'll be returning to your homeland, Lyric, to spy for us within the borders of vile Crux Radia. Tell me, are you familiar with the lovely little town of Robinstead?"

* * *

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I close my eyes and tell myself that this can't last forever. It's less consoling when I realize that isn't true - if I truly trigger one of her moods, she might ensure that I do stay forever this time. I'll come back to my home and find the world ended, desolate and dead.

Still, I can't skip a custody talk.

I open my eyes, steel myself, ignore Diyn's chuckling, and step into the Void.

"Oh! Why, look at you. I didn't expect you to be here so early." Tia's golden voice rolls over me, full of mirth and surprise. At the same time that my hackles rise, I'm fighting not to cringe. It's like this every time... well, I like to think so, but every time I suspect it gets a tiny bit worse. I turn to face her. She's not on her throne as I expected.

No, she is playing croquet in striped knee socks, a sundress, and a big floppy hat. In her own throne room. Having known Tia for as long as I have, I am still struck speechless. She hands me a mallet.

"There we are, dear 'Sy, it's your turn." She steps back, waves of golden hair rippling over her shoulders as she shifts. She doesn't have an ounce of guile in her expression... except she does. She's just hiding it, as always.

"I thought you said you didn't expect me." I examine my croquet mallet, and then notice that its handle tapers off into a tiny trident. How... thoughtful.

"Well, there's never any bad time for croquet." And by the tone of her voice, there's no other explanation needed and no more discussion warranted on the topic. I probably don't want the real explanation, come to think of it.

I'm still staring at the mallet. The little trident on it bewilders me. "I came here to talk, my Lady."

She sighs heavily. "You never come here for fun! It's always business. Why can't we have a little family time every now and then?"

I grimace. "Family time in the Void tends to run a bit over schedule, doesn't it?" This is wandering away from the point, and I'm getting nervous. I don't like it in the Void. It's hard to keep my focus. What was I... oh, yes. "But speaking of family time... I know our meeting concerning Stevane was coming up soon, but I felt I needed to bridge the matter sooner--"

"Oh! Oh yes! Stevane!" Tia drops her mallet, then brings her hand to her forehead. "I did want to have our meeting a little early. Thank you for reminding me! I think it's high time she visited again. It's been simply ages since I've seen her."

I blink. Perhaps the Void is tempering my ire at being interrupted, or perhaps I'm truly surprised to hear Tia lying to me. Time does have its discrepancies here, but Stevane has visited recently enough according to her schedule, and well... Tia knows she's lying, and that's how I know she's lying. I'm flabbergasted that she'd do it to my face. Does she think she can get away with it, or that somehow I can't see?

She cocks her head at me, starry eyes wide and concerned. "Is something wrong with my request?"

I sigh heavily. Just trying to strongarm me, is all. "It's a little too soon, I'm afraid--"

"No, it's not." Her tone was so cold just now. I have to double-take. "She simply must visit, 'Sy. It's time." Again. Again she's lying.

"It's not." I keep the emotion out of my voice, simply stating a fact. That should be enough. "If you'd like her to visit early, well... maybe something can be arranged with Jhe h'Logos, but I think it's the worst of times, Tia. You insist these vacations of hers will only be a week or two, but you know very well that on our side of reality, years pass." It's true. Stevane and Jenny were born months apart, but Jenny is eighteen and Stevane is still sixteen. Though I must admit, it's cute when Stevane insists she's the older sister. "You always deny it--"

"I do not, a week is a week!"

I keep myself composed through the interruption. "We can't have her disappearing while things are so hectic, my Lady. And not when she's obviously busy with her own tasks." I scowl. "And her own romances, which you always fought for her freedom to explore." It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but Tia is impossible to argue down when it comes to... well, everything, but most especially her daughter's freedom. Which is why this conversation is so very strange. She's never insisted Stevane visit before. She always asks if Stevane would like to have a little vacation. It's our daughter's choice, in the end.

"She can have her romance after she returns. A boy worth anything will wait for her."

I raise an eyebrow. Tia stares back with the full gaze of the Void. I find myself lost for a moment... but my stance doesn't change. "Why now?"

"Why have you kept her so long up until the present?" Tia's voice is a bark. "We only have her, you know. She's precious. She needs to be safe."

Ah.

She glares at me. "You let someone take her. She was almost more lost to us than Letitcia--" She turns away and bites her lip. "At least Letitcia talks to me, sometimes. I can't find her, but... at least we know she's still alive! With Stevane..." She won't look at me, now.

I sigh. "Titty wouldn't let herself stay sheltered. You respected that, admired it. We've been lucky with Stevane - she didn't want to roam very much, detested being away from Beleth for long. But she's a capable young lady and she'll go where she wants and have her own adventures. That's something I had to accept on some level when she started her Armed training... and when Titty went Armed before her."

Tia glares into the Void. She then bends over, picks up her mallet, rises, and clocks me in the side of the head with it. Then she storms off to her throne.

I stare after her and rub the side of my head.

"Fine. Keep her in danger." She perches on her throne, glaring at me like an owl cursing the daylight from a hollow stump. "I've sent Gerald back to you how many times now? Perhaps one day I'll have to do the same with her... we can only hope. She may not even return."

I sigh and pick up my own mallet. It seems appropriate, and when Tia gives you a weapon in her realm, you bloody well take it. Then I step towards the throne. "Do you want to know where Letitcia is?"

She narrows her eyes. "Of course I want to know where our eldest daughter is. What does that have to do with anything other than proof for my point?"

"Robinstead. That's where she is."

Tia stares at me.

"Stevane found it out from her captors while she was kidnapped, but I hadn't had time to look into it until now, and I wanted to make sure I didn't make the wrong move and scare Titty off or endanger her, or..." I look away. "Lots of things. Anyway. Stevane wanted me to be the one that told you. She's not sure what to think. She's only ever known Jenny."

"I..." Tia's hand covers her mouth. "Dear Lettie, in Robinstead? Really, all this time?"

I nod.

Then, well, Tia has to scramble off of her throne and go and hug me, and accidentally hit me in the head with the mallet again, and I put up with her for a while longer, and I suppose that is family time.

"Bring her back." Tia doesn't have that irrational hitch in her voice anymore. "You're her Daddy. Go and get her, and bring her home."

"What if she doesn't want to come?" I look away. "Her disappearance wasn't... just a kidnapping. She was out on a mission. According to Stevane, she might have even--" My throat goes dry for a moment. "Defected."

A stern look takes over Tia's features. "Then bring her back, and I'll spank her."

I blink.

"And before you go to Robinstead, ask Stevane if she'd like to come see her Mommy. It'll just be a week or two. I'm sure she needs a vacation after all of this that she's gone through. Jhe h'Logos has plenty of Poets to do his work."

There's an air of finality about that, but at least she's leaving the choice to Stevane as usual... and I've been given my leave. Gratitude swells within me. I bow. "I shall return as soon as I have news for you." Then I disappear before she can hit me with the mallet again.

It really does get worse every time. I'm sure of it.

* * *
Myles
* * *

Stevane curls under my arm as if it's a blanket, then buries her face against my side. I raise my eyebrows. It's like her usual wakeup routine, but we're well into morning. "Don't want to get out of bed?"

She shakes her head, and I feel the usual wave of crankiness that emanates from her at the very thought of getting up. I tend to be spared (somewhat) from her morning rage, so I'm not concerned for myself. She tends to set her brothers on fire if they try to wake her. But she's essentially using me as a coverlet right now, so I consider myself safe. Still... this isn't normal for her after she's woken up.

"Are you that tired? Is it work?" That would be strange as well - Stevane enjoys her current job almost more than she enjoys leisure time. As opposed to teaching the youngsters how not to destroy the Hall with their writing (or, at times, how to destroy the Hall), babysitting the former Jhe o'Sul is something she relishes. He frustrates her, but I think she frustrates him more, which is something she needs now that there's no Poet King that needs herding.

She sighs as if the world's resting on her chest. Which, considering all, would make the world a cozier place. "Not my work." She peeks up at me, gold eyes as baleful as a wet cat's. "Your work. You're going on mission soon. You're going to be too far away, and I just got you back after all that training. I barely saw you!" She bites her lip. "I didn't even know where you were, and I couldn't even write about not knowing that! I couldn't talk about it either!"

I wrap my arms around her and squeeze, sort of a sneak hug attack. It's hard, being in Julia's division, and I know the training won't be the hardest part. I'm still fretting over Stevane awakening while I was away, getting her Arms in a place where no one could help her but herself. I fret, but I'm still so very proud.

Wait, what did she... "What do you mean I'm going on a mission?" I raise an eyebrow. "I haven't heard anything about that."

Stevane gives me a flat look, then sighs and points to her temple. "Poet."

I close my eyes and let out my own weary sigh. "Jhe Julia will never forgive Jhe h'Logos for existing."

Stevane has to giggle at that. Then she sighs again, the sound more content. She nestles against my side more comfortably, as if it's a place she could stay for awhile. "You know, I envy you."

I raise an eyebrow.

"I'll never get into your division, because I'm too much of a security hassle, but it's the most interesting one. And I never get to read all the stories, because the Shadows' stories are so rarely written, and if they are they're not kept where I can get to them." She closes her eyes and sighs. "I'm not sure if I'm lucky to even know about them, but there was no stopping it with Lute living in Daddy's house. It annoys him, but well... I heard his stories like other people hear music in their heads."

I cuddle her. "I could tell you my stories later, after my first mission." Really, it's a little weird to say that. I didn't expect to be out in the field so quickly, but I suppose the Judge doesn't hold back once someone's proven themselves. And I am proud to have proven myself. And by my skills, I fit my division very well. It's just... sometimes I still wonder if I ended up in the right place. With Stevane here next to me, it's even easier to wonder about that.

She bites her lip. "Maybe. If you get clearance to tell me."

I chuckle. "Will it matter? You said you'll hear the stories anyway. Like music." I twine my fingers through her hair, tracing around the edge of her ear.

"I try to stop." Her voice is very quiet now. "We can train ourselves not to hear. I worked very hard on that. But then we have to be very aware of what it is we're supposed to be hearing, so we don't miss anything that might've been important..." She groans and buries her face in my side again. "Mrphhlle muphf."

"...Yes?"

She looks up. "Sorry. I was just mumbling." She looks away. "I want you to stay. But I can't." She blinks. I'm a little confused myself - I wonder what she meant by that. "I um... meant to say that you can't, but I..." Her eyes widen.

I poke her. "Yes?" Gerude's complaints about Erynn and his eternally unturned pages come to mind.

"I have to go do my job now. And with clothes on." She stretches up and kisses me on the mouth. I manage to catch her before she leans away, prolonging that kiss.

After all, I'm not going to see her again for a while.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I've a few minutes to wait before the new Jhe h'Logos is available for me to talk to. Until then, I wait outside the suite his infernal brother is currently staying in. They do talk a lot - I suppose it's good, and Diyn tells me there's no reason not to trust the former Jhe o'Audiva Rocale now. Then Diyn follows that with: Until, of course, we're not supposed to trust him, and I'm left flailing for a reason to keep him in Radia instead of ousting him back into his own Empire.

Stevane jogs up to the door, her uniform a bit wrinkled - which is odd, she tends to keep it up well. She's very proud that she's earned the right to wear a non-trainee uniform, even though the differences between trainee uniforms and normal ones are very small. (We don't like to let our enemies know at a glance which of our fighters are the inexperienced ones.) She comes to a halt, panting, then looks up. As soon as she sees me, she blushes.

I decide not to think about it as hard as I can possibly not think about anything. That's how I handle Stevane and Myles now. She's already convinced me not to be an imposition in her relationships, and if I so much as make a mention of it she might think she has to do that again, and once was enough. I never want to hear details about my daughter having sex again - it's much worse than considering your parents in the act.

Wait, I don't have parents. I mean, there's Emperor Theos and all, but that's a little different. And I don't think he's ever seen a woman naked on purpose. ...I can't believe I just gave thought to that.

"Hi!" Stevane's recovered her normal facial tone, and now she's actually happy to see me. I smile back.

"Good morning. Are you doing well?"

She grins. "I love my new job." She crosses her arms and sighs, staring at the door. "Jhe h'Leste said he'd be done already." There's that pining edge in her voice that's hard to ignore. It's the tone of someone who wishes they were elsewhere. I try to ignore it.

"Really? Is Jhe h'Logos's brother fun to work with, then?" I do wonder, a little. I trust the new Jhe h'Logos, but...

"Of course! He's just as stubborn as Jhe h'Lete was!" Of course, as she says that, Jhe h'Logos opens the door, and past him I see Jhe Ebrelle staring out at us. As soon as he sees me, the former Jhe o'Audiva Rocale flinches away, an actual hint of fear about his face.

Jhe h'Logos just smiles down at Stevane. "Certainly there are very few people who can be awarded that honor." He steps forward and to the side, allowing Stevane passage. She bows, then grins up at him.

"Bye, Daddy! Have a nice day!" And then she's in the room and the door closes, and she's alone with the man who tried to make a puppet out of my youngest son.

Jhe h'Logos brushes my arm as he steps forward, his eyes skirting up to mine. I'm still a little thrown off by the new difference in our heights - Elete was shorter than this man. I'm not looking so far down anymore, which means he's closer to me, which means he can scrutinize me that much more. I don't much like it. Then he closes those eyes (Elete's eyes, but with much more guile in them) and sketches a very polite bow. "Jhe h'Akribastes." The title rolls off his tongue with far more pleasure than anyone else ever voices it. He rises, those mirthful blue eyes studying me again, that gaze so piercing that it's as if he's touching me.

"Jhe h'Logos." I return my own bow, else risk impropriety. "I wondered if you could assist me."

"Jhe Elric will need some tea before he can answer your questions - would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me while I prepare it?"

I blink. He strides forward, but it's a moment before I remember to walk as well. "You expected this, then?" I wonder what tipped him off. Perhaps he really is better at Elete's 'Time Lord' bit than I give him credit for.

"No!" His tone is jolly as he says it, almost proud. "Jhe Elric did. He informed me a few moments ago. Your actions are hard for me to anticipate because you shield them so well - a credit to your office, but hard to account for by mine."

I blink. It's strange to hear him so readily admit that - Elete guarded anything that might imply he had an edge. He was so afraid to show weakness, after all. Still, it's good news to hear. I don't want every Poet knowing what I'm going about. It's bad enough that one of them did today - that sets me on edge almost as much as being in the Poet Hall. "Very well, then. He'll be ready."

Jhe h'Logos pats my arm and I keep myself from jumping. "You're a bit on edge. It's alright, I've seen to it that the shenanigans have something else to do besides annoy you here. There's no reason to avoid the Poet Hall."

I raise an eyebrow. "There's no problem there. Why would I come here if I don't have business?"

He looks taken aback for a moment, opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it after a few moments, seeming to deflate. He looks away. "No reason, of course. Ah, here we are. Would you like some coffee, or would tea suffice?" There's something odd in his tone now, but I'm not sure what.

"Tea would be very nice, thank you."

"Good."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

Jhe h'Akribastes is so very dear as to carry the tea tray for me as we proceed through the corridors of my Hall. It's a relief to see him willing to keep his hands occupied - he looks less tense in my domain now. Still alert, though. As if my Poets will come out and assault him with papercuts, hurling stone inkwells at his head.

"It's looking a bit calmer in here," he mutters. His eyes are examining every crevice, paranoia showing through.

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, it is a place of study and introspection." His glance is dubious. "Elric lives in a more quiet wing than those I suppose you've most often been in. My son lives here as well, as do those who tend to the Library, which is nearby. Anyone who requires a great deal of silence for their studies, or need their work... muffled, tend to be housed here. It's well-warded, and some rooms double as single infirmary units for those with special needs. Those such as Elric, in fact... or Jhe Aaren."

He stiffens at the mention of his Armed's name. "I'll need to see him, before I go."

I raise both eyebrows. "You're departing?"

"Yes, to Robinstead for some time. I've a daughter there, as I'm sure you've read in recent writings. It should be a short trip, but I've made my arrangements in case it drags out. I need to make sure Aaren will be alright in my absence, though."

"We've been looking after him. I do think Jhe Emily has been a good fit for him - he's recovered quite dramatically under her care." I fail to mention that Tesynnodai might have done well to mention to me that he would be taking leave soon - it's a bit of a heavy subject to bridge. Later, perhaps.

"Still, I'll need to see him before I go." 'Sy's expression is like steel - sharp and cold. I would hate to be the person that incurred such wrath. Even without being the focus of that gaze, I'm chilled.

We've arrived at Jhe Elric's room. I raise my hand to knock, but before I do, I sense the Poet within beckoning us to enter. I lower my hand, then open the door. "Please, after you."

'Sy walks through, careful in how he treads. The room within is much like the more quiet corners of our Library, with a bit of Rhivendish decor sprinkled about the place. Elric stands, then produces a quite formal bow for Jhe h'Akribastes and I. He looks up at me after he rises. There's something odd in his expression... a kind of fear.

Are you well, Jhe Briarseal?

He doesn't immediately reply, even mentally. He's not comfortable with speaking aloud yet, too afraid that Nul will take his tongue again. Still, his thoughts are safe from any taint, as far as I've ever sensed. I give him a nudge, and then he makes an effort to compose himself. I'm sorry. I haven't received many guests here, and am not used to it yet. If ye would, please have a seat, sire. He gestures to the table within his quarters, which he's already neatened up for us to confer at. He then steps forward to the Judge, takes the tea tray, sets it on the table, and begins pouring the tea.

I relay the gesture to 'Sy. "Let's have a seat, then?"

He takes a seat with his back to the far wall. I wait for Elric to sit, then seat myself as well. Steam trickles upwards from my cup, bringing with it a gentle, floral smell that reminds me of open fields and meadows. "Well then. Jhe Elric, you have news of Jhe Lyric for us both?"

My Poet nods. It's been sparse before, his goings-on. He's been afraid to say much of what's been happening, out of fear of being caught. Too close to the Queen Mother for his liking. Now, though, he's been sent out on a mission for her.


As Elric speaks silently to me, I repeat the words aloud. A little of his Rhivendish accent carries over on my voice - something I find a crime to edit out of his speech in any form.

'Sy leans forward, his hands steepled under his chin, teacup underneath them and untouched. He's studying Elric fiercely, as if he could see his son's face through the Briarseal boy's features if he peered hard enough. His focus gives a favorable cast to his features, something I find I'm drawn to gazing at longer than is actually necessary or warranted. I allow myself the pleasure, though - 'Sy's too distracted by his son's boyfriend to notice me.

That stings, just a tiny bit.

He's already traveling on his own, off the leash as it were. He's relieved, and has been relaying much to me. I can map out the area where the Lady Thelea has set up her new base, but it's dangerous to approach by any means right now - and of course, any deliberate actions against it would out him as a double-agent in the current situation, so he requests that we stand down for now until he can make an overt move worth our while. She has gathered the dryads and nymphs she stole from Jhe o'Audiva Rocale-- err, Jhe Lyric still accords the former Emperor his title sometimes -- to the new base. It is far north, almost to Moana. Elric frowns. As an aside, my tribes mark that place as a dark area, known as dangerous to our ancestors - a place from which evil tended to come with great regularity, aided by great power. It troubles me to think too much on it, in my current condition. Obviously Nul is... strong there. Jhe Lyric's observations agree with me. He looks up at me, eyes focusing again. There's a bit of darkness to his expression that fades in a blink, and that I try to forget was ever there. I'll draw a map at your convenience.


"Later," I say. "Speak now, and remember your tea."

'Sy is looking off to the side now, contemplating. His expression's the same as when he plays chess. Gods, how I miss that. But can I really? 'Sy's never played chess with me. He's played hundreds of times with Elete, and I can remember that as if through the bottom of a glass. How much easier it would be to just be Elete, in so many ways...

But I'm not.

Elric frowns a bit, unsure of how to explain the next part. He's going to Robinstead, to gather the resources the Lady Thelea and the ex-Kommissar have planted there over time. Of all places... but apparently, it's oft-overlooked enough to be a meager bit of stronghold. There's something that's been put in motion there as well, and he's to look into it. I... he is not sure what. His eyes flick up to mine, concerned. Even the Lady Thelea knows not what exactly is to be found in Robinstead. She has not been made privy... these are plans the Jherent Nul has made himself. Lyric is being sent to Robinstead on Nul's command, not the Lady Thelea's. She would prefer he stay near her base, or gathering forces within Audiva Rocale where he is less likely to be seen by Radian forces. Her will isn't being done as she wishes, though - the Jherent Nul does not want her to be endangered by venturing to Robinstead herself. She is one of his few pieces he is still at liberty to play directly. He looks away, expression darkened for an entirely different reason. It seems that Jhe Edward has not been seen by Lyric, or the Lady Thelea, since he was appointed the Jherent Nul's Herald.


I bite my lip, then exhale. "Oh, he still lives. I feel it."

'Sy raises his eyebrows at me. I shrug.

"We are constantly aware of the targets on our backs, yes? It seems Edward is not a piece we will find 'in the wild', though - which means we're more likely to find evidence of his Poetry in place of him." I frown, contemplating this. I haven't felt it yet, but I've wondered if he and Nul simply bide their time.

The Judge looks perplexed. "Can't you just stop him? You're Jhe h'Logos." I can hear that ever-so-subtle ring in his tone, the unsaid rest of the sentence: 'aren't you?'

"I can stop a Poet from writing his Poetry as much as you can force an Armed not to awaken her Arms away from your Hall." The point is made well when it's his daughter as the example, but I can see he's a bit angered by my ready use of one of the weak points he so fiercely guards. I try to venture away from the sore spot, then. No sense in aggravating him. I'd much prefer the opposite. "Nul's Poet ranks are much fewer, now. Jhe Edward, however potent his work is, cannot overcome my entire Hall - especially now, when we are restored so close to our full power. And especially united as we are with the Armed, yes?"

"Mm." 'Sy sips his tea, not meeting my gaze. "Gerude and Erynn certainly are useful together... sometimes."

I try to keep the chagrin off my face. I note that Elric's expression is well-schooled, and mentally commend him for it. "Elric will relay any updates to me as he receives them. We should discuss later how you'd like me to send those along to you while you're in the field."

He waves his hand. "Katherine will see to it easily enough."

I raise my eyebrows. "She's not coming with you?"

A grim cast overtakes his face. "No, especially not after this conversation. I had considered it, but... the Treaty is in too much danger as it is."

I'd question him more on it, but Elric's growing uncomfortable. I prod him as to what could be bothering him.

With all due respect, Jhe h'Logos, I am still a security risk until I'm cleansed of Nul's infection of my speech. I trust myself to keep Lyric's secrets because his abilities to stay hidden will add protection to his plight - I'm not comfortable, however, with hearing anything that could be... listened in on.


I don't relay that to 'Sy. Jhe Briarseal, you can be assured that I keep aware of just who hears the words of those who speak around me, aloud or otherwise. You are also behind protective wards. I believe you've nothing to fear.


He bites his lip. ...Still, Jhe h'Logos... please, show caution around me.


I pat his hand. "Jhe Elric worries that he can't keep this up too much longer. He's still recovering from his injuries in the field. Would you like him to answer any more questions before we leave?"

"How is Lyric doing?" It's a completely unexpected question, even with me knowing how much 'Sy loves his kids. I've become so used to him limiting our conversations to strictly business that I didn't anticipate it. His voice even broke a little. It's been two months since he's even heard from his son, after all... and out of all of his children, Lyric may be in the most direct danger.

A smile peeks onto Elric's face. He is happier than he's been in a long time, which he finds strange enough, but he's... free, and he feels strong. He learned from his ordeals in Audiva Rocale, and he's confident that he can take anything on. Now that he's not directly under that woman's thumb, he's looking forward to causing her a great deal of trouble.


'Sy lets that sink in for a moment, looks down into his tea, and brings his palms to his face. Then, he does what I expect least. He laughs.

"Thank you." I can imagine some reasons for why he's covered his eyes at this moment, but it's good to see him smile. "Thank you, Jhe Elric."

* * *

We leave Jhe Elric's room soon after - the Poet doesn't take long to sketch out two copies of an easy-to-follow map. I make a note to come by later and check on Jhe Elric in private. Or perhaps I should ask Jhe Camden - he may have more insight into his brother's condition. He's certainly with him often enough.

'Sy raises an eyebrow at the copy of the map in my possession. I only shrug. "I do like to know where that woman is."

He winces. "Elete's mother? So would I." He looks away after that statement.

I clear my throat. "My mother, actually. Ebrelle is more Elete's mother than Thelea Xaillyndesse was." He looks back to me with surprise. "Mind, I'm not eager to claim her as mine, and an excuse not to do so would be serendipitous, but Elete is not that excuse."

He looks away again, and for the life of me I don't know why.

I decide a change of subject might be in order. "Jhe Aaren's room is this way."

It's a bit strange to lead 'Sy to one of my Poets and then let him go in alone to talk to his Armed. I'd be a bit put out, but Jhe Aaren did work in a sensitive field, and... well, this is Armed business, right? Only, 'Sy did agree that he and Jhe h'Logos needed to work together instead of keeping things from each other anymore.

But he agreed to that with Elete, and perhaps it is that I am not Elete.

I sigh. He's such a mother hen sometimes. Aaren is fine.

Regardless, he's only in there for a few minutes before he comes out again. Jhe Aaren closes the door after a nod to me - he seems tense, but well. 'Sy looks relieved, if anything, which I suppose is an improvement.

It's probably best that I show him out now, I suppose. We walk back towards the entrance. "Is there anything you'd like me to keep an eye on while you're away? You didn't mention how long you would be." He really didn't mention leaving at all, but I won't press the issue. No sense dwelling on past grievances right now.

He shakes his head. "I've made my arrangements already, but thank you for the offer." He might notice the dismay I'm hiding, or perhaps he feels like elucidating, because he goes on. "It's only been two months since you took over Elete's Hall. I wasn't sure if you'd have control of everything by now, so I apologize. From an outsider's perspective, it seems impossible." He puts his hand to his chin, thinking for a moment while I try to comprehend whether he meant all of that in a good way. Then he looks at me and those gold eyes lock with mine. "I'm impressed with you. You've taken what Elete built and instead of getting overrun, you seem to be steering it. And you do it on purpose, or at least you look like you do."

Of course, what he's saying about me runs completely counter to the state of my mind right now: overrun and scrambling for purchase, madly looking for light or focus or anything that isn't that golden gaze. I'm failing. When he looks away, relief and sorrow mingle together in me. "I do try," I manage to reply. "Thank you for the kind words." The double doors to the hall loom before us. 'Sy pushes one open, already making his leave.

He grins, then snorts. "Just keep them out of my hair." Then he's gone.

It's a few minutes before I can remember what else it is I mean to do today.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I'd say I wasn't waiting for him out here all this time, that I have nothing better to do with my day, but that would be a lie. That's sort of his fault, too, and I'm not going to ignore it. I catch one glimpse of Jhe Alestere with that adorable 'I've no idea what to do now' look on his face before the door closes behind a grinning 'Sy.

He automatically tries to avoid the fountain I'm perched on the side of. I'll admit that it might not be me - he really doesn't like being near any body of water more than an inch deep. I clear my throat to get his attention.

He blinks up at me, then steps back a bit. The grin fades. I tell myself it's the water, but I can tell when I'm lying to myself just a little bit. Perhaps the anger is showing on my face - it tends to.

"'Sy? Could we talk?" I can already see his answer written across his face, so before he answers I interject: "Yeah, we need to talk. How about your office? There's tea there. It's quiet." I think I'm being a little too nice, but what I like about his office is that if I scream in it, nobody outside hears me. He has no choice but to agree to it, but I swear he contemplates wiggling out of the meeting. "It is quiet, in there." He tries to look me in the eye as little as possible, the wretch. I just walk, pretending nothing's the matter, or trying to. I could wring his neck, but that wouldn't force the smart out of his throat and into his brain.

The Armed Hall is very close to the Poet Hall (something 'Sy despairs of quite often when he's not trying to use the placement advantage to keep an eye out for trouble from the Poets). The walk doesn't take long, and perhaps that's why nothing is said - but I swear 'Sy looks like a naughty little boy that's about to be reprimanded by his mommy.

He manages to regain his bearing once we reach his office - he saunters behind his desk and sits down as I go and retrieve the tea. There must be something special to my expression right now, because Benny just smiles up from her desk, makes a little wilting wave, and then closes her mouth before she actually says anything.

I bring the tea set into 'Sy's office and shut the door behind me.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I really didn't plan to have this conversation yet - I don't understand how Katherine managed to stalk me like this, nor what tipped her off to do so. I'd blame our new Jhe h'Logos, but he was with me when I even so much as mentioned that Katherine would be staying in Radia while I went to Robinstead, and I didn't notice him trying to tip her off. I don't think he'd dare be so brash, anyway. Elete would have.

Maybe it's not even about that - Katherine could perhaps be angry at me for a completely unrelated reason. Yes, that's probably what it is. She does have her moods - though she's had so few of them in the past months, after the mess with her father blew over. That's why I let my guard down.

She's kind enough to pour the tea, then sets down the pot gently and takes her seat. She blows the steam across the rim of her cup, tracing the patterns it weaves in the air. She doesn't look up and cue me to begin, though - she seems to be waiting for me to act.

Strange. She tends to take the initiative first. Why's she giving it up? Now I have to start this, and that means possibly showing my hand. I sip from my own teacup, then set it down and look at her. She's let her brown hair hang loose this morning, eschewing her usual looped braid. She looks so casual, really. So relaxed. "Well," I say, "what are we meeting about?"

She pouts up at me. "Why do you want to leave me here?" Her green eyes sparkle just a bit, and the emotional impact gets me right in the center of my chest.

Well-played. Very well-played. "I have a little trouble answering that without knowing how you came to such a conclusion."

"Because I can see the guilt on you, can smell it from a mile off, and I always notice when you're avoiding me." She sips her tea, partially obscuring her expression with the cup and the steam, and a curtain of hair that artfully slides across her cheek.

I chew on that. I belatedly realize that my expression probably looks more guilty now, and I hear Diyn snicker in the back of my mind upon the recognition. I try to ignore him. He never helps with Katherine... never helps me, in any case. "I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Were you going to?" The reply isn't charged with anger the way I expect it to be - she's honestly curious, and... hurt? But I didn't mean to hurt her, per se. I'm trying to protect her, and she'll never understand that.

"I couldn't see how I could avoid it." I let out a deep sigh, then set my tea down and lean back, hands on my armrests. It helps to affect relaxation, and really... it has been tiring, managing all this, preparing for the journey, knowing I'd be making it without her. "You'd follow me, otherwise. And I can't have that - we can't have that. You. Your fathers. Crux Radia, and the Emperor of Chethar. Katherine, I don't think you understand sometimes just what it means, being the Treaty." I look at her, obscured as she is. Every time I do so, a part of me remembers what it was like to lose her and fear that loss was permanent. "Your loss means the loss of all we protect and hold dear."

That, for some reason, triggers the anger in her eyes. "Bullshit," she says, "Chethar will torch both Empires even if I manage to live for the next eight months. Have you done the math, 'Sy? If I'm supposed to guarantee the safety of so many people by living in a safe little box and never seeing any hint of harm, then why did the Gahalespbar-archo threaten to kill me if the two Empires couldn't be at peace?" She bites her lip, pausing to swallow, to calm herself. "I am that peace, 'Sy! But he threatened me because Father can't take his throne yet! If I'm not the guarantee of peace, then why the fuck do I have to be the Treaty?"

It's almost as if she'd directly threatened everything I held dear, and I can't exactly explain that. What she's said, though, puts me so on edge that I almost grab for Diyn. I remind myself not to do so just in the nick of time, and merely clench my armrests instead.

"If it takes Father to sit on his throne again for Chethar to be happy, then shouldn't he be enough? Why me? Sure, Daddy and Father needed to agree to raise a child together to keep their Empires from going to war. I can see how I was the compromise way back then. But now they can keep their own peace, especially now that Father's been cleansed of what was tipping him back towards a war. I don't see why I'm necessary anymore--"

"Katherine!" I only realize after the fact that I've given voice to the objection.

"--and why being the Treaty has to get in the way of me being Advocate, something that the Empires actually need!" Her eyes are so fierce now, so radiantly green, that I'm lost for a moment. It's as if they have a fire all their own.

But I've got to quell it.

"Katherine. I am sorry. I... will miss you on our journey. But if I endanger you again before your Father takes his throne back, I risk threatening everything. Your life is more important than whoever the Advocate could possibly save in Robinstead-- and you assume I'll be killing anyone over there, when I could always just bring them back to Beleth to face Trial."

Her eyes murder me, I swear. Some part of me rips inside, just a little. Maybe she does it on purpose - maybe she's just that hurt.

"You can't possibly weigh the tiny possibility that you could be needed with me in Robinstead against all the lives you'd endanger by accompanying me there. Katherine, Thelea is sending agents there. It could very well be a trap for you." I try to approach this subject reasonably, but I think I lost any chance of winning her over when I told her she wasn't necessary. Perhaps not my most tactful hour, but it's the truth - whoever she'd save would end up dying anyway.

She narrows her eyes. "If it's a trap, then how do you know it won't happen to me here, while you're away in Robinstead? The last time she tried to kill me, it was right outside of Beleth. Two months ago. And she succeeded in her attack - it's a miracle she didn't destroy me permanently."

I have no reply to that - I can't refute it per se, and I'm angry that she even reminded me at all of my utter failure the night that she died. "Well then. You'd best be careful while I'm away, mustn't you? Otherwise you doom all those lives you're so set on saving, and mine as well."

Her look isn't quite poison, but there's something of a knife in it. Then she looks away, turns, and leaves.

That's as close as I get to a goodbye from her before my trip. I'd kick myself, but she might sense the urge and decide to come back in here and do it for me.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

There's barely enough coffee in this Kingdom to fuel me for all the things that need doing. I gulp mine down quickly enough, then see to the papers I'm writing.

Too late. I started this too late. I took the Crown from Elete far, far too late, and it still feels funny resting on my head after two months of wear. I swear... it used to be different, back when I first wore it in Chethar. It wasn't so... heavy. And it was shaped a bit different too. When I gave it to Elete ten years ago, it assumed a shape that fit him. Now that I've reclaimed it, it hasn't shifted back to what it was. It's as if it's still his, and all the itchy thoughts of the Poets attached to it certainly fit his role better.

And Jhe Alestere's a dear, and is trying to be helpful, and I'm fine with him being the Poet King, but I wouldn't curse him with this thing. It did enough to Elete, as much as it kept him alive for the years that he couldn't quite keep himself alive. In the end, though, it was his undoing, wasn't it? He took it off before my son could reach through it and end him, and then Jhe h'Akribastes did the duty of protecting him permanently from such an end.

That wasn't the way Elete should have died, and it's my fault. So many things are my fault. I should have found another way... I'm the damn Song, aren't I? Why couldn't I have just listened for something better than foisting my responsibilities on Elete? Never mind that he did a fine job of it. He's not here anymore, and now this is my job. This... mess.

I pour another cup of coffee and down it. How many words? How many pages? How much can I manage before Theos acts this time? It took me three months once, to cancel out his attack on four of us, to give us just enough time to edge towards freedom and something akin to safety. I have a whole Empire now... and there's Audiva Rocale, too. So many lives. How many words will it take? Will there even be enough parchment for it all? I start to count out the blank pages. A throat clears behind me, and I almost knock all the work off my desk. I turn, blinking the figure behind me into focus.

'Sy. My stomach turns into a rock. He's angry, and I'm never one to make him happy these days. "Hello," I manage to croak out.

He twists his mouth to the side. "Good morning. Or afternoon I should say, by this point." He casts his eyes around my office. Papers everywhere, and most of them aren't even the financials and the records and the official certificates and all the other bits of paper that make up my Empire, the bits of paper that I loved making into my day-to-day business. This is all Poetry. "Are you busy?"

I swallow. "For some time, yes." It's hard to meet his eyes. Ever since Elete died and I took the Crown back, the air between him and I has been chilly. I always feel like I should be ducking away from him, dodging the crosshairs.

"Hm. Well, I've been trying to arrange things so that I could leave for a few weeks, maybe even a month, without them falling apart by the time I return. It seems possible, yes? Nothing seems as if it'd fall apart if I turned my back on this city for two seconds?" Can't you tell? Aren't you supposed to be the Song, Luciprochoros? He doesn't say it aloud, but I hear it in his thoughts, even if he doesn't mean for me to.

"That seems reasonable. Everything's been calm at sea and on land. Jhe h'Logos's Hall is quiet, and full of alert Poets who know the dangers to look for. Were something to happen, you'd be quickly contacted. There's no reason you can't go off on a mission, by all logic." There's something so... frosty to him. Is it just around me?

I'm trying so hard to make things right. I've just got to hurry, is all. I could be writing right now. I could be getting closer to finished right now. I wonder if 'Sy will be here for much longer.

He snorts. "By all logic. Fine, if you feel like wording it that way. But you'd better not drop your guard. That fool of an ex-monarch that Jhe h'Logos sees fit to house in his Hall is being watched by my damn daughter, you idiot."

I tense up. "I talk to Stevane quite often about Jhe Ebrelle. She has a level head and can handle herself."

He just regards me. And I can see that on some level, he blames me, and not Jhe h'Logos. I am wearing the Crown, I suppose.

"Is there anything you need before you're on your way, 'Sy?"

"No. Not from you. Just don't screw up while I'm gone, and don't have a bigger mess waiting for me than the ones I'm about to leave here. You can manage that, at least." And before I can say anything in reply, he leaves. The door shuts behind him, the most appropriate punctuation.

A bigger mess than this. Perhaps that's not something even I can manage to make happen. I take solace in that, and continue writing, a million voices nagging in the back of my head as to how slow I am, and how inadequate, and how pathetic. I wonder how I ever ignored them before I gave the Crown to Elete, and then wonder if that's really why I passed it to him.

I'm so terrible, aren't I?

* * *
Katherine
* * *

He doesn't notice me watching him, or if he does he doesn't acknowledge it. I'm keeping myself pretty damn well-hidden, though. Being able to find Lute when he's hiding means that I've picked up my own little tricks from him over the years. So I guess it makes sense that 'Sy doesn't notice me as he looks over the horses and asks Erynn and Gerude if there's anything else they need before they leave.

Then he looks over his shoulder and right at the shadows along the city gates that I'm skulking in, and locks eyes with me. There's that one glance, no words. Just enough.

Just enough to make sure that I know he knows I'm there. He's not going to let me follow him to Robinstead. That's what this is all about. He's smart - I'm still considering getting on my horse and riding after them after the sun sets. But I know that's the wrong thing to do. Not because it's wrong to follow them... I just know it the way a Poet knows things.

For whatever reason, I just shouldn't follow him. That's not how it's supposed to go. It's strange to be so certain, but... it's definitely a Poet sense, this feeling I have. Usually I can sense out a reason behind the premonitions, but it's not unheard of to have a blind hunch. And this is certainly a blind one - feeling out the potential of following 'Sy is like running into a cold black stone wall.

Maybe it's because I'm mad at him. I just watch him as he and Erynn and Gerude recede towards the horizon. Eventually they become dots, and soon after that... well, they're gone.

I sigh and wrap my arms around my legs, and let myself cry. It hurts. It hurts the most because 'Sy thinks he's doing what's best for me, when all I can feel is the tug of my Duty and my inability to rise to its call. I should be there with him, and I'm not, and there's nothing I can do.

It's cold in the shadows. I let myself live with that for awhile... and I'm tempted to just stay in them. Somehow, it's comforting, and sort of numb. But there's just the teeniest beckoning for me to return to the Palace and see if I can find a friend to talk to, and then there's thoughts of dinner. It's time to go home, and try to figure out what I'll do while 'Sy's away that doesn't involve just sitting here and waiting for him.

* * *
Gerude
* * *

Dad rides up ahead, out of earshot, under the pretense of checking the trail for snakes.

I grit my teeth. "Erynn. Damn it. Stop singing!"

* * *
Myles
* * *

I'm pleased to note that Katherine never notices me in the shadows while she watches Jhe h'Akribastes leave. I'm a little sad to see her left behind. I'm sadder to see her cry. I'd give her a hug, but...

Nobody's supposed to know I'm here. Not even Stevane. Especially not Stevane. I'm a little chilled by how she knew I'd be leaving today. I actually doubted her just a tiny bit, figured it might be some Poet silliness, but... well, here I am. Watching the horizon. Watching my back. Feeling out the air around me and whether anyone's occupying it.

No one that I can sense.

I leave. There's a horse waiting for me out beyond the city gates, in a completely different direction than the Judge and Gerude and Jhe Blackirons left in. Out of those three, only the Judge knows that I'm riding to Robinstead as well. On different trails, though.

The Judge gave me my own map to follow, a path well-marked on it that I'm to intersect. Jhe Lyric's path, it seems.

At least I'll have some company.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

The night sky stretches on ahead of us, black and quiet, with only a dusting of stars to give us light. The breeze cuts across the grass, chill and dry and lovely. Already the green on the ground is thinning - soon it will give way to dry dirt and sand, and we'll be in the desert proper.

I've missed it. I miss being out here, on the path, moving. I've been cooped up in the Armed Hall or the Palace for far too long sorting out every little thing. It used to be different. I'm supposed to be out in the field, sniffing for trouble beyond our borders. Gathering information where it may be nesting. Most of all, exploring where my thoughts can roam. I haven't been able to go off some place where people won't bother me and just think.

Gerude and Erynn keep each other busy well enough, so there'll be plenty of opportunity for that.

We've set out on a new moon, which was my plan, and I'm glad I've kept it. Not only does it lend stealth to my three-person party, but Myles will find it very convenient for his purposes. I wouldn't entirely call it a loss if we three were spotted, but he needs to be kept absolutely secret. My group is just traveling to Robinstead openly - Myles will to be the liaison with our double-agent. I won't have Lyric be found out due to indiscretions, and I will protect him with every bit of secrecy I can manage. I haven't even told most of my children that Lyric isn't really a traitor, though certain Armed know, such as Lute and the rest of the Shadows. There's no telling when any of them might be in the position to cross his path, and they're the ones with allowances to kill someone quietly without notice, and without too much checking ahead of time, if it means getting their jobs done. Letting them know Lyric isn't a criminal is necessary to keep him alive for as long as his mission lasts.

Anyone else, though... it's a rare person who knows about it outside of that circle and those of us in charge. Very few Poets know, of course. They talk too much for me to take that risk. I sigh, then turn to grumble to Katherine about it.

...Ah.

It's a little hard without Katherine here. I knew it would be, and in a way I can only blame myself for the decision, but I stand by it. Dragging her with me and endangering her would run counter to everything that I am and that I stand for. It's just...

Out here, with so much space around me and so much room to think, it's so much easier to notice where I am and where she isn't. I have my habits, and she became ingrained in them long before now. Those habits stretch back, far back, back before she was even a twinkle in Luciprochoros's eye, and my partner was a different person entirely.

Oh, my.

It's been so long since I've really thought about Rhia, hasn't it? Even with Val back with us, I hadn't really... but I've been so busy. Everyone's been so busy. And after telling him that Rhia's gone, not just gone but dead, and I couldn't bring her back again, no matter how hard I tried, well...

Well, I wanted to stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her, before I really could dwell on it again. I don't remember how I felt when she died that second, final time. I remember being a cold, stone wall of a person, and every problem just gliding past me as if over the edge of a sword. But now I'm out here, alone with my mind, without even Katherine to distract me. That makes me miss her even more, makes me want her here to distract me just for this. Because to be honest... I never want to have to think about Rhia again. Telling Val what happened hurt enough.

Losing the partner I had in Rhia was enough, losing her twice was too much, and losing Katherine permanently in addition to that? I will not allow it to happen.

That makes me feel better about being out here alone, at least. I look up at my two traveling partners. They're kicking up the dust a few yards behind me, bickering about something, and somehow that makes me happy. It's normal.

I wave them forward. It's time we settled down for the evening and made camp. I can sleep under the stars once more, and perhaps lose myself in that for a time.

* * *
Myles
* * *

So this is what it feels like to be on my first mission. I always sort of wondered. Would I be self-sufficient enough to actually make it on my own? Would I get lonely? Would my Arms finally become talkative? Thete says so little that I once tried to check whether he could speak. It's one of those things that I only realized was stupid after the fact, but it didn't take me long to regret it. I must say my appreciation of brevity grew from the experience.

The trail hasn't extended his vocabulary any, but he's certainly happy. And, well, so am I. I couldn't put a finger on it, but it just feels good to be doing what I'm meant to do, fulfilling some purpose that's always been there, latent, just waiting patiently.

Still, it's pretty lonely out here. Is that how it's going to be from now on? I didn't end up in the most social division, though Jhe Iaen certainly has plenty of chances to meet new people. It's just me and my horse out here, with Thete calmly regarding the world from the sheathe strapped to the side of my horse. He apparently finds it amusing to stay sideways for so long - he's used to being strapped to my back, but it's hard to keep a bastard sword there when you're riding.

I keep an eye out for the Judge's campfire, but I've navigated the way I should and apparently he's made sure to meander quite far from my path. I might be able to track his smoke on the horizon if the moon were full, but it's not. All the better. His trail wanders farther south - I'm cutting north to intercept Lyric faster.

Heh. I almost wish I could write to Stevane and let her know that I get to see the brother she's fretted so much about. She's never mentioned a thing about the possibility of him being a traitor, not even saying that she didn't think he was. I've never asked, but I suspect she knows on some level that he's innocent, and keeps that secret the same way she has all the others. She just never betrays the fact that she might even know them at all.

Hm. I wonder just how Lyric's going to make it down here in time for me to intersect with his trail at all. He's got quite a ways to go, after all - I'm just traveling from Beleth. But then, working for someone like Thelea, who knows what resources are at his disposal now?

* * *
Lyric
* * *

The breeze whips my hair back away from my face, and for the first time I'm grateful that it's been cut. The cropped length is a lot more suitable for this type of travel, especially now that I'm sitting up and taking a more active role in things. Clinging to an almost-dead half-possessed guy strapped to a bird's back isn't my idea of travelling in style.

Arbvi flicks his glassy yellow gaze at me for a moment, then turns his attention forward again. The brown-feathered Avian tugs the reins up just a bit, directing the windbird to soar just a little higher.

I thought I'd be afraid, especially considering that the last time I was on a windbird, it landed by crashing. Instead I'm exhilarated. Even with the thick scarf wrapped over my mouth and behind the flight goggles, I feel so much a part of the air and the clouds above! It's like my very heart is flying, lifting me up with its joy. It's not often I think for long on my Haerphitl heritage, but there's no doubt at this moment - my Mother was the wind.

Having fun? The voice barely surprises me at all, sliding into my own thoughts as if it were one of them. I smile behind my scarf.

More so than I thought. I thought this would feel dangerous, pretending to do Thelea's dirty work.

Elric snorts, the sound ticklish in my thoughts. Do you mean to say it isn't?

My smile becomes a grin. Some things aren't any fun unless they're dangerous.

Well then, I'm sure what I'm about to tell you will make it ever so much more thrilling in the field. His voice is still mirthful, so I don't feel as much foreboding as I might from someone else. Possibly it's just my relief at hearing from him - there was very little opportunity to do so while I was stuck with Thelea, and it made being with her even worse than it already was.

Oh? Go on, I'm looking forward to it already.

Your Father came to the Hall today so that I could tell him about recent developments with you. He knows you're on your way to Robinstead. Jhe h'Logos was kind enough to inform me that the Judge is also on his way there-- not because of you, but because he happens to have a mission there as well. You should expect to be intercepted.

My blood goes a bit cold, and it's not because of the altitude. I tell myself that I'm spying for Father and that he's not going to stop me. It still doesn't stop my heart from racing.

Elric goes on, as he tends to do. Jhe h'Logos says that the Judge is so busy that he probably forgot... well, I know he's just making excuses, I'm Poet enough to see what's really going on. Your Father's too secretive to tell us Poets the exact details of your interception, so it's up to you to stay on alert. It's likely he just wants a sort of rendezvous, but you know as well as I that it could be dangerous for you if you're caught doing that out in the open. Also... Elric seems troubled now for the first time. He hasn't told everyone about your being a double-agent, lest he endanger you, so don't expect everyone you know to be friendly to you.

I don't know what it is, but that statement puts me the most on edge. Probably because it's going to impact my mission the most. Oy, keeping my motivations secret from Thelea's side is hard enough - now I get to play-act for Father's side as well? Brilliant.

You don't sound too sad about it. Maybe it's a stray gust getting through my scarf, but it feels like Elric's chuckle tickles the hairs on the back of my neck.

Well... no. I lean forward into the wind, looking out ahead of me. The sky's full of stars, and every now and then a fire outside or a stray house lit from the inside will dot the landscape and make it glow. It's beautiful. Even when working for Jhe o'Audiva Rocale, there were times when I relished a challenge. Now it feels even better because I'm doing it for the right reasons.

Elric's smile blooms in the back of my mind. Just be careful, dear.

We soar over the land, faster than any of Father's spies.

* * *
Aaren
* * *

I lie on my back and think as I examine the ceiling. There's nothing interesting on it, of course, but I'm seeing through a different set of eyes right now.

Emily is almost on the roof, looking out through one of the windows in the top floor of the Poet Hall. I'd expect her to be in her room right now, ready to sleep. Instead, she's watching the stars, which means I can watch the stars. I can note the constellations sketched in her imagination over the horizon, and I can hear, faintly, her name the different ones as she contemplates them.

Ribaldi, the Messenger. Authra and Athara, the Two Lovers. Ethere, the one that many people call The Other Lover. That story varies depending on who you ask... and Emily, it seems, knows several versions of the story. One where it's just the two, one where they're all three together, one where Athara is torn between Authra and Ethere...

I tend to believe they're all true, you know, just different stages of one relationship. She smirks. A shame there's no constellation for the end of the story where they all three split up when they're sick of each other.

I grin. Sorry to intrude.

You're supposed to intrude, it's why Jhe h'Logos had me let you in in the first place. And why you let me in. If you didn't start intruding, I'd go poking you, and my view's more interesting than yours.

I nod, then wonder if I should sleep now. Something's nagging at me, though. Not just that cold hollow part of my head where Schiphael's voice should be, and not the little echoes of pain I still sometimes feel from when they had to take him from me. Those both heal more every day, seem less obtrusive, even less real. Emily's smirk is always in the back of my mind, surprisingly warm, surprisingly normal. I got used to it within an hour. That doesn't nag - if anything, it soothes most of the things that would nag at me.

No, this is... a little more elusive. It's the weight of a falsehood, I realize. It should have been obvious, but I don't have Schiphael to draw my attention to the Law anymore. That sort of hurts, but it's not my fault, not my shortcoming, and I didn't do it...

Emily notices my mind curling in on itself, and I feel her take notice. She doesn't even have to talk, really. She just lets me know someone's watching, someone's feeling, someone's noticing things with me the way Schiphael would if he were still in my grasp. I don't have to explain myself to her, but she'll listen if I want to talk.

I don't just want to, I have to. We won't be able to go on as we have been unless I explain things, unless I know we both understand what Jhe h'Akribastes asked me to do today. And, well, what I had to lie to him about.

It's not so much of a lie, in the grand scheme of lies. You didn't tell him a falsehood, really.

I sigh. The fact that Emily can say that means that I've already lied to the Judge, and the fact that I have really hurts me, because he's worked so hard to keep me alive and sane. He's been a lot more concerned about my livelihood than my late Father, that's for sure. But I didn't tell him that his request was impossible, and I knew at the time that it was.

She mentally shrugs, the gesture nudging at my thoughts. You had a choice. You could tell him what he wanted was impossible, and then he'd fret over the dangers and possibly hampered his own missions because of his preoccupation, or you could say that you'd do your best and put his mind at ease and nothing's any different afterwards. I don't really mind. I'm not offended that he doesn't trust me.

And what gets me is that she isn't offended. I would feel it if she were. She doesn't care at all what the Judge thinks of her. I wish he understood, is all. He can tell me "don't tell the Poets anything, even Jhe Emily," but he doesn't seem to understand that I can't shut you out of my head and I don't want to. I sigh. It's like he asked me to keep a secret from my Arms.

Before I can start stewing over Schiphael's absence again, she says: I guess it's a good idea for me to ask you if you want help.

I blink. That was an unexpected path to go down. Help?

Well, you're technically on a mission now, and as I sort of half-think inside your head and you do so in mine, we're gonna have to coordinate or you're gonna end up in a mess. I mean, I'd just stay out of it by default, and not even mention what it is that your mission is. But it'd be safer for both of us if I helped, wouldn't it?

I try to forgive myself for checking, for just half a moment, if she's really an undercover spy. She knows I check, too. That's the worst part.

There's that impression of a sideways-smile. It's a high compliment, Aaren, and I'm happy to know that you're always on alert. It makes me feel safer to know that all of the ones like you in the Armed, whoever they are, never stop being on the alert. She pauses, mulling something over. It's gotta make it hard for you all when you're in bed, though.

I snort. On so many levels. But seriously, Emily, you know this is dangerous.

Jhe h'Logos told me how much danger I'd be in, Aaren. He told me he'd already foreseen that there was more to our partnership than just healing you - that if I accepted, I might be drawn into things that I could never talk about to any other person besides you and the Judge. I'd see your memories, I'd hear your thoughts, and... well, he knows none of the Armed ever really go inactive. He... he said whatever my decision was would affect the rest of my life, Aaren. I know this is dangerous. He was almost afraid to offer me the assignment at all.

You know, I never thought about Emily deciding to be in my head, of the fact that she didn't have to, could have chosen to do something else. I accepted her as a new part of my life and moved on and never really questioned. Thank you. I don't know how to add enough weight onto that, to make it mean what it should. I probably can't.

S'no problem. She says it in the same patient, impassive voice as someone would repeat knitting instructions with.

Her idea is pretty intriguing, and probably sound. If I'm going to be involved in subterfuge, we need to be acting in concert or we'll just end up endangering one another. Still, that means bringing her in pretty deep. We Shadows have the ability to draft in people who might be necessary to a mission - not as Armed, or official parts of the division, but as accomplices, confidants and informants. Emily's a subtle person, she's capable, and she's definitely able to understand whatever instructions I give her. She's in a unique position for that. You want to be recruited as an enemy double-agent, then?

She jumps, then braces her hands on the window sill. Is that a come-on?

I shake my head. Serious. I need to bring something to the table if I'm gonna be able to do as the Judge asked. I think Audiva Rocale's current agents will give me some attention but it won't look serious unless I have a recruit. The Judge thought I'd be using another Armed in uh... my line of work. I think it'd be more believable if it were a Poet from a completely different walk, though. You're technically more of an asset than any of my comrades.

Damn, you're really thinking about this. You're going to do this. Emily peers at the horizon, her eyes looking over the city now and ignoring the stars. You'd do this if I weren't in your head, too. If you really needed to, if it was part of your duty to the Judge.

I nod. If the Law required it.

That's crazy. She doesn't say it spitefully, more with a bit of awe that all Armed trainees seem to be good at projecting. Not that I ever smell Armed on Emily, but she understands things well. She empathizes. She doesn't waste time freaking out over things, just accepts them instead. What do I need to do?

I laugh aloud. I've done the recruitment dance once or twice. If only it'd been this easy before. You don't do anything for awhile. You've been sort of my handler when it comes to my mind and my moods - in the game we're about to play, I'm your handler instead. I do the talking, and I do it for a long time. You'll probably hear it, since I'll be writing to correspond. Heck, with all luck you won't even have to do anything. I just earn some trust by offering a potential new double-agent in addition to myself. It'll be a long time before they ever hear details about you, if they ever even do.

She sounds excited, or at least happy, in response. That's actually kind of neat.

I try not to mull over it too hard. I'll be able to do my job, she'll be able to do hers, and the Judge won't need to know the rest of it. He'll just know I'm doing what he asked... more or less.

* * *
Calyx
* * *

My predecessor has certainly made things difficult for me, but that was his role, wasn't it? Make things difficult for those that opposed his and the Lady Thelea's agendas. In the end, I was lucky to get so close to him... and a bit chagrined to not be his undoing. I find it appropriate, though. I never had to commit an act of outright treason to come into power. I find that's another degree of separation between my predecessor and I - he had to kill his brother to become the sole Kommissar.

I just had to step back and watch.

I've actively considered taking on a partner, restoring the position to its former glories, having an equal at my side. The original Kommissars kept each other in check, never letting one gain more power than the other, and therefore ensuring that one would never rise up above his proper rank and attain the power of rulership. Perhaps it's an idea for the future. Apprenticing, if you will. But for now, I'm still weeding out those among my soldiers that had loyalty for Xen and not for the Kommissar per se. My forces are now a bit thin.

It's interesting, then, that apparently in Crux Radia they number at least one.

I'd be the last one to expect one of Xen's old undercover agents to contact me, especially not Xen's son. I'm fairly impressed that the boy hasn't been found out by now, but then, Xen did have a lot of cleverness to him. He must have passed along at least some of it. I'd fear the boy was loyal to his father and not to Audiva Rocale, but I knew Xen too well to even begin to believe that his son had any love for him.

Still. Someone loyal to the Kommissar. In Crux Radia. Undercover. I do think that person could be very, very useful indeed. To learn the agent's recruiting in Crux Radia, though...

Well, it's very good news. Audiva Rocale stands weak against Crux Radia now, functioning just short of a puppet state. I've seen the missives from Jhe o'Radia regarding the Treaty, claiming that they're restoring order and protecting Jhe o'Audiva Rocale in his recovery. I believe him, of course. Jhe o'Radia is not the most trustworthy person, but I think his motives are pure in this case. But I know how it goes - after a temporary state of control is set up, how does one guarantee it doesn't stay in place? It pains me to help them keep it up for now.

But what they're doing is marginally less vile than what the Lady Thelea would do to Audiva Rocale. Perhaps even more than marginally less, although when I consider that phrase closely I'm not sure what that really means. What I mean to say is, it's difficult for me to trust the Radians, and I know they shouldn't trust me, but I'll put up with their little puppet ruler for now. I grow concerned, though.

They're keeping Jhe o'Audiva Rocale, after all. My King. I see no reason why he should recover there as opposed to here. Jhe h'Akribastes may claim their security is better, that they have more agents than I do, that Crux Radia is farther away from Lady Thelea's influence. But, well, I have an agent in Crux Radia, so who's to say Thelea doesn't?

How long will I let them keep Jhe o'Audiva Rocale? The Empire is getting restless. That poser they put on the Throne can certainly act like my King, and the look is flawless, but he can't make the changes necessary to restore order and counter Lady Thelea's influence. He's an idiot, for one... and for two, I won't let his influence reach that far.

I need our real King. I wish I could speak to him. It's rather amusing that he knows so little of me, though - he kept Xen and his agents as far away from his Palace as possible.

Well, my agent is in Crux Radia, in its capitol of Beleth, where my King is being held, or protected, depending on who you listen to. If all else fails, I can take my own measures to castle him.

"Jhe Kommissar?" The voice jerks a bit over my title. I don't blame the speaker, but I still have to make myself not smirk at his hesitancy. Meanwhile, I break from my reverie. I'm watching over the King in his study... or at least I am making the appearance of such. It's a bit odd, watching the person who helped topple your own monarch as he does the work that might damage the Empire even more.

I nod at the countenance of Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. "My King?"

The face is my ruler's, that is certain. But the way his expression twists in embarrassment is... well, unbecoming. It's always strange to see the Judge's agent act out of character for my King - a little disturbing, but also a bit amusing. "You know, that's a little weird when there's no one to watch it."

I raise an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure no one is watching?"

He shrugs, his face easing into a confident smile that's just far too open and relaxed for any Xaillyndesse. "Been in this line of work for awhile now. I know you've got that lady in the corner back there hidden away, and there's of course others lurking around I could point out... but I won't, seems kind of impolite, and not really my business. I know how to not get assassinated unless it's on purpose, is the important thing. Only your agents are in here... and maybe some of mine."

I take that calmly, then make a note that perhaps Prida needs to brush up on her subtlety, but I won't reprimand her for being noticed when it's obvious she wasn't alone in that. It isn't necessarily bad that our doppleganger is skilled in noticing his security, and I'm sure he considers it in his best interests to know of any potential backstabbers in his midst. All in all, I've been impressed by his calm and ease in these situations. I've met other Armed that are a bit more... on edge in my presence. Letitcia was even jumpier than her younger sister, after all. "Duly noted. I hope they're not disturbing your work."

"Nah. I tend to like the company." Jhe Duhaine lounges back in the King's chair, gesturing to the desk and its many papers. "I thought you'd like to have a look. We consider you in charge of the security here, and well... well, it's certainly an issue." He presses his palm to his face, taking care not to smudge his makeup or muss his hair. I would imagine it's all a lot of upkeep without the King's many servants to assist him, but then, I think his shifting powers might not require all those attendants. At least he knows to keep the King's mannerisms close at hand.

I lean over the desk and pick up the missive he gestures to. Something from Jhe o'Radia's desk. A bit of a warning and a plea at once.

I raise my eyebrows. "Well, I should be glad to see the King's daughter again. It's good to hear she's well."

Jhe Duhaine groans in response. I suppose those two get on well, then. "She shouldn't come, right? Too dangerous?" His voice is less asking than it is pleading. I have to suppress a chuckle in response, and shake my head.

"Not at all. You're the real target of anyone's sabotage, and keeping you safe implies that anyone else staying in your vicinity should be just fine. The only imposition will be making sure that she stays near you during her visit. Really, I think it should be a turn of luck for you - you'll have some company while playing your role, and her presence will lend the weight of believability to our whole operation." I do so enjoy watching his scowl grow, even if he does look like my King right now. "Should I send along a response myself?"

He waves his hand. "Go ahead. You can figure out how the heck she's gonna get here without getting killed. Or without killing anyone else, for that matter."

I sketch a bow, then, as I would to the actual Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. It just creeps Jhe Duhaine out, which was my motivation in doing it. "As you say."

Having an actual member of the royal family in the Palace again? How delightful. I admit that the prospect gives me more of a sense of purpose in being here than making sure our puppet ruler isn't killed where he stands.

* * *
Rahellene
* * *

Father leans back from his work, then raises his arms over his head and stretches. The creaks and pops that result seem more like they'd be made by old ancestral furniture than by a person. He lets out a happy sigh afterward, so it seems like he enjoyed it. He just sits in his chair for a moment, sort of draped, like a person who hasn't relaxed in a long time.

Looking around his office and all the papers piled up in it, I suppose that must be the case. Come to think of it, he tends to be working every time I visit him - I didn't think too much about it before now. He's always happy to see me whenever I come by, and tends to put whatever he's doing aside. Now that I have a chance to see what it all is... "Wow."

He raises his eyebrows, clear blue eyes looking up to meet mine. "What? The slouch?"

I giggle. "No, silly. I guess I'm just impressed by how much you do. I don't remember all this being here when I first came here." Has it only been a couple of months?

"Ah, well. Work seems to find me." His tone gets a grayish cast to it. "Let's not talk about that. It's boring."

I raise my eyebrows. "It's always interesting when you talk about running a country, Daddy."

He waves a hand, rising from his chair. "This isn't part of running a country. This is real work, that kind that's actually a pain." He lets his gaze linger on the quill on his desk for just a moment, then scans over the papers once more. He grimaces, the expression showing off lines in his face that usually aren't there. He's got a handsome face too, sort of young but still old. His blonde hair's so playful, especially the way his bangs fall around the points of his crown. It's strange looking at him, knowing he's the source of half of me, after only being around Father and his Xaillyndessen features for so long. "We need food. That's more important, right? It's very likely you won't be staying here for much longer. That request I just wrote goes directly to Jhe o'Audiva Rocale's desk, so it's likely they've already read it. So let's have dinner together, hm?"

I grin. "Sure." I never mind being around Daddy for longer.

"Great." He sounds so relieved. I guess I've been an excuse for him to pull himself away from his work. I feel a little guilty, then - he's enjoyed having me around, but now I'm going to leave him after all he's done for me.

I have to get home, though. Home. It feels a little weird to think of Aurocale's Palace as home, considering it was my prison. But kept birds have nothing else to call home but their birdcages, do they? I at least want to go back and make it my own. And well... Father's not managing anything there anymore, he's just letting himself rot in his room in the Poet Hall. I watch Daddy run his Empire here and I think of how the only ruler Audiva Rocale has right now is Iaen. It disgusts me.

Daddy breaks me out of my contemplation with a quick hug. "Let's go. Maybe we can find your sister too!"

...Oh Daddy, even you find a way to ruin things for me sometimes.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

What does a week without 'Sy do? I thought it'd be cleansing - I'd drop the usual habits I pick up around him, and things wouldn't smell like him anymore. I could be my own person again, a single person, instead of the one mixed up in a half-partnership half-relationship that I swear he sometimes thinks is an ownership. It should be a relief to be free of that. But with him gone, all I can really think about is how I'm stuck here in Beleth now, and that nothing can change that. Being by his side is a kind of freedom I don't have now.

Eistinn gives me a side-hug laced with a shoulder squeeze. "Hey. Snap out of it." Combined with that grin of his, I can't help but comply. The twinkling eyes and the black locks ending in tight little curls remind me of my brothers, especially that enthusiasm Jax seems to retain even now.

We're still sort of figuring out what's up with Eistinn and Valtoryeh, and I suppose they're doing the same... but in the meantime, Eistinn's a pretty cool guy. He puts up with Val's moods so well. It's sort of weird looking at another Xaillyndesse just traipsing around as if nothing's odd about his... well, traipsing around here, and I suppose it's even more weird that he smiles so much and means it, but these aren't things anyone particularly minds. It certainly helps counter the amount of gloom that Valtoryeh manages to output.

"So, you traveled everywhere with him before?" Eistinn passes me my cup of tea. I let the steam fold over my nose and tickle it until it stops feeling warm and starts feeling damp. Then I take a tiny sip. Still too hot, but I don't mind waiting.

"'Sy and I? Yeah." I sigh, folding my arms over the balcony of the Palace, looking over the city of Beleth and the black swath of land beyond. It doesn't take long for that land to become desert, if you follow the same trail 'Sy and his boys took. "It's so much fun to travel with a partner like that, when you can anticipate each other's movements and thoughts. When you've been on the trail with someone that long, even hearing the way they breathe becomes a part of your routine. Just another one of those little things you expect to have in your life, and then it's gone before you know it, and you're wondering what it is you miss so much." I frown, then stare at my cup instead, examining the way my knuckles wrap around the delicate handle.

"Hmm." Eistinn mulls that over, sips his own tea, then hisses when it burns his lips. I laugh at the way he puckers in recoil, then wait for him to compose himself again. "Yeah. I understand exactly what you mean." He looks so sad when he tells me that - way more than I expected from him.

I nudge him. Sadness doesn't sit on Eistinn's face well.

He shakes his head, not to brush my concern off but to get himself back to awareness. "Sorry. Kinda lost in the past there for a second." He skirts a glance over to me, his face so unsure. I just raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. "I..." He sighs, then looks down into his tea. "This might take awhile. Do you have some time?"

I nod. 'Sy's gone, I have nothing to do except wait for him to send word, and I want to pretend that's not the case or at least ignore that it is.

"Then I guess we should sit down, because I might be at it for awhile."

We take a couple of patio chairs and shift them so that the city's in view. We're at the Palace's central balcony, so... it is a pretty impressive overlook. Once we're both settled, Eistinn tests his tea again and finds that it's cooled down enough for his mouth to put up with. After a long drink, he decides to start talking.

"So... I guess I haven't said too much about the past yet. I've answered enough questions to satisfy the Judge's grilling, which was actually not too harsh, though I kinda admit that might've been because you were there. Once everyone was pretty sure I wasn't some spy or assassin or whatever, they decided not to ask too many uncomfortable questions, and I've been pretty grateful. I guess I'm the same as Ebrelle - it takes a while to heal from what we've been through. Him longer than me, but well... I escaped Mother. I took the chicken route successfully. He didn't." His eyebrows draw together in this heartbroken expression. I bite my lip. I hate seeing him so sad. "I tried so hard to free him, and in the end, I guess it was the wrong thing to do."

"But you're here now," I tell him.

A grin encroaches into his grimace. "Yeah." He smiles, then takes a moment to compose himself again. "So... Val's way older than me, but he and I have been together since I was born. Well, he and I have been me since I was born. I don't look back and think 'that was me at that moment, and that other moment was Val up front.' It's all me... but not me, at the same time. It's like... these memories that are mine, but I was a different person when I had them. By the time I managed to kill myself, I was pretty fucked up - Mother had warped me pretty badly. I'd started to sense Val as a separate person than myself, and he'd started remembering that he hadn't always been me. Up until then, I always thought I was born when I was born, and my life was the short, pointless thing it had always been. But once Mother decided to give me to our King-- to the Jherent Nul, I guess... well, I went a little crazy. I stopped being me, and I started being Val and I. We began to remember Thelea taking the person that was Val before, capturing him and molding him into a new person out of all sorts of creepy parts, making him into her child in--" He chokes for a moment, turning green. "I don't want to think about it. It's not even really clear for me. Val's said his memories are a lot worse, because he's older, and they happened to him - whereas I just began to exist because of what happened. So, I remember being made, or born, or whatever you call a shitty beginning like that. I started remembering it when our King the Jherent Nul started to unmake me as part of the process of making me his. It was splitting me apart into... us. Val was the one that made the decision, and told me how best to kill ourselves, how to save ourselves from becoming something even worse. He was so afraid, but he always was the brains between us."

Eistinn's covering his face, his hand shaking as he does so. It's as if he's afraid of anyone looking at him. I reach forward, grab his wrist gently, and ease his hand down. As I do so, he starts to calm. It takes another minute before he's ready to speak again, but I don't stop him. In a way, I'm urging him forward. This is more than he's ever told any of us about how he came to be here.

"I... well, we just haunted Mother after that, still stuck together, stuck with each other... and in a way, unwilling to let go of each other. Val was angry at what had become of him, but still very protective of me, and I was scared of going anywhere without him. We watched over Ebrelle when we could, but we couldn't venture far beyond Mother's labs, so opportunities were few. I guess ghosts have their limits. It was nice to bother Mother every once in a while - she didn't know how we were still there, and she could never catch us fast enough to get rid of us or use us the way she does so many souls. I think it might be Val that managed it, but Val's said something about how it was me who made it harder for her to deal with us than she thought it would be. I don't know. All I know is, once I finally saw my little brother there, ending up the same way Val and I almost did, becoming just a tool... well, I acted before Val could. I decided we needed to free Ebrelle the same way we freed ourselves, and to free our little brother Alestere too. So I helped him stab Alestere. I kinda had to force it - Ebrelle couldn't move the knife on his own, because he was supposed to do it in a way that would sacrifice Alestere to our King. His whole body had become that of a puppet."

Eistinn's face twists to the side.

"Then, well... I guess I don't know how to explain it, but I was one person again."

I look at him. He looks so embarrassed. I let out a laugh - I can't stop it. He looks so funny!

He grins, probably because he knows it too. "Ales was a fun guy to be. We got used to it real fast. I could sorta tell the lines that divided us, after awhile... but not very much. It's... muddy. When I was Eistinn the first time around... alive back then, with Val, I always felt like one person. In Elessandre, it sort of... sloshed a little, because I can remember being him, but also I can remember being a little bit more me, and sometimes I can remember Val just sorta staying in the back of the brain, quiet and happy to watch everything pan out. Ales... man, he went on for years and years. He kinda went on forever. The Cap'n sailed to places that time didn't touch. It was like a vacation, I guess. As close to an afterlife as we could have had. It's why I don't feel too bitter, having a new life again. I guess I've been reborn, but I still know who I used to be in those previous lives." He lets out a heavy sigh. "It's different for Val, I know. He had a life before mine. He lost things... people. He lost family, whereas I got all my important family back, even if they're a little bit different now."

I'm about to reply, then I cock my head. "Hey, where is he, anyway?"

Eistinn blinks. "I... huh. I didn't think about it, but him being away from me for a bit is why I decided to go ahead and tell you all that. S'kind of a touchy subject with him. I uh... I'm actually kind of glad he's off for a bit. I think it's a good sign, his not having to be right next to me all the time."

Even when he says that, Eistinn looks a little sad. I remember what I said about getting used to how another person breathes. It must be so much worse for him and Valtoryeh - they breathed as one, not too long ago.

"Yeah, I think I'll leave him to himself, for now. I think sometimes we need a break from each other, you know?"

I think of 'Sy and can only halfway agree. It's good to be apart for awhile... but harrowing to not have a choice about it. Once again I find myself wishing I was out riding at his side--

"Ah, there you are, Katherine." The grin in the voice is hard to ignore. I'm glad to hear Daddy that happy. I turn to look at him-- and then I see Rahellene, and can't help but roll my eyes.

She returns the sentiment.

"Oh! Hi, Jhe o'Radia." Eistinn dips in a weird bow from his chair, fumbling as he does so. Daddy just laughs.

"Well then, two more dinner guests is even better than an addition of one. Are you two hungry?"

I guess Eistinn's proof enough that you can't exactly pick your family, but sometimes it's worth putting up with them anyway. At least, I try to tell myself that as we walk inside. I was getting along just fine before without having a sister - why the world's decided to give me one all of a sudden, I'll never know.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

Stevane leaves as I walk in, holding her finger to her lips. Ah, it seems Ebrelle's already gone to sleep. It's a tiny bit early for him, but I don't blame him for needing the rest. From what I heard from Stevane earlier, Ebrelle slept poorly all last night, having nightmare after nightmare.

I close the door behind my Poet, then walk further into the suite, my footsteps light. It's been a week since then, and Ebrelle never did take me up on my offer to have him escorted through peaceful dreams. That's no reason not to give him aid anyway. He needs his rest. He needs to be in his right mind again.

And whether he agrees with me or not, he needs to take his throne back.

It's strange to see the covers swallow him up as they do, as tall as he is. He's on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other draped across the sheets. His brows are drawn in concentration, as if he's focused on finding the peaceful sleep that eludes him so well.

I lay my hand against his forehead. It's time to give him some aid.

What's so strange to sense in my brother is just how afraid he is. I never thought of Ebrelle as someone who could be afraid of as many things as he is now. He's always been so strong, so capable. He dominated everything he surveyed. At least... that's how it looked from the point of view of an observer. Being a puppet all that time, being forced to hurt all those he loved, to the point of breaking them... I understand why he wouldn't want to face all of that. But of course, it all comes back to face him again at night, when he can't run away.

How to steer him through sleep, then, when his mind is flooded with such troubled waters? It's daunting even to me, and I've helped bestow rest onto many a person. It's not the enormity of the task so much as the intrusiveness - Ebrelle has a very powerful mind, even in recovery like this. He's automatically rebuffed a few of my attempts to probe at him before, which is partially why we've trained Stevane to be an aid in that. Ebrelle has more trouble striking out at her automatically, either out of some kindness in him or out of innate fear of someone Armed who looks very much like the Judge. I don't want her to have to help me pry in either, though - this is a bit of a breach of trust, and I want Ebrelle to know that he can trust Stevane with his secrets and his life.

I'm contemplating just what I could do now when I hear an odd sound. It's the tense silence one produces when one desires an audience, yet politeness constrains one from knocking. Somewhat nuanced, I know.

I leave my brother's bedside, then, and make to exit his suite. At the door, I find a most unusual visitor, though not unwanted.

I bow in greeting. "Jhe Valtoryeh. An unexpected honor." He bows in turn. It's strange, watching the way he carries himself. His bearing is so very Xaillyndesse, but his face is not quite there. Eistinn has the face. And, well, the royal Xaillyndessen blood.

But between the grace, the long black hair, and the cold blue eyes, Jhe Valtoryeh fits right into the family. I suppose that's why Mother chose to splice him into it.

"Jhe h'Logos..." His eyes skirt over my face, and he loses track of what he was going to say for a moment. It's almost as if he looks regretful, but as he's barely spoken to me since we all were given life again, I can't be sure why.

"Shall we speak somewhere else more private?" I try to nudge him towards whatever it is that might be on his mind.

He shakes his head... then sort of nods. "In a way, I guess. Could we..." His eyes skirt towards the door to my brother's suite.

I raise my eyebrows, then wonder a little at his intentions. Jhe Valtoryeh is, as far as I've perceived and heard, impeccably trustworthy. Still, it feels a little odd to invite him into my brother's suite. Perhaps not incorrect, though. I suppose Ebrelle is, in some way, Jhe Valtoryeh's brother. "He sleeps already. I was attempting to ensure he did so peacefully when you knocked." Well, he didn't knock per se, but he would have eventually.

"That's... partly why I'm here." Jhe Valtoryeh draws himself up, his stance more assured... and very much like my brother at the top of his form. Of course, now that I think about it, Ebrelle probably learned some of his bearing from Jhe Valtoryeh and Eistinn. "I can help you. I can get into the places that you can't." He casts a furtive glance down the hall, nerves jumping up again. I realize that this may not be the best place to have this conversation.

"Well then, let's move along, shall we?" I open the door to Ebrelle's suite and wave Jhe Valtoryeh inside.

* * *
Val
* * *

I'm still accustoming myself to this place and its strange ways. Everything in Beleth feels so much cleaner, more pure from protection, less likely to have shadows encroach on it and smudge everything that's beautiful. I knew of Beleth through my time as Eistinn, but it hadn't been built by the time Thelea managed to get her hands on the me that was Valtoryeh. Chethar is such a distant memory - safe and secure, but weighty and rigid. Lyiannethe's mark has been left on my memories and on my mind, even after the long recovery of being Ales. I suppose most of my time in Radia has been in wide-eyed, quiet wonder. A sort of happy shock, when I'm not thinking about...

...About other things that I won't let myself dwell on. They're gone. In the past. No sense dwelling on the lost.

And then there is Ebrelle, who I did think was lost, and who I had no ability to save, in the end. Ebrelle, my dear younger brother, who had no idea what was coming for him, even though it had already come for me. Ebrelle, asleep in his suite, the same shadows haunting him as those that haunt me. I've not said a word to Alestere yet since entering. I just brush a hand over Ebrelle's cheek and remember when he was so young, and I was the bright star of the family.

Sometimes stars fall.

Alestere is a whisper of fabric next to me, and a warm, quiet breath. I stand up straight, then look down at him. "It's strange to see you so much older now."

He raises an eyebrow up at me, and I have to look away. He pats my elbow. "Let's see to our brother first, before we talk about the past."

That does seem best. My mind eases against Ebrelle's as if it were half of my own. Then I'm inside it, no effort, not even a pause to remember my old methods. It's like breathing for me, like letting my heart keep beating.

It's not just my skills speeding this along - Ebrelle's mind isn't being any imposition towards me. It makes sense, in a way - Eistinn and I took control of him once, and he trusted us so implicitly then. I've been through much the same as he has, too, when it comes to Mother-- to Thelea and Nul. I've had my mind broken and savaged and plunged into shadows. I've become their puppet, and seen my beauty marred into something I couldn't even look at in the mirror. Ebrelle and I have a lot in common - too much, in fact.

But it's enough to know where the tension lies in his mind, where his fears pool into the corners, and where the safe paths have been torn into and diverted in self-defense. There's no caves in his mind where he can curl up and be safe. He was never left that option by Thelea. Instead she forced him to crumble under his fears and submit to anything imposed upon him, tearing down any shelter he might have built up for himself. The only shelter he was allowed was for the purpose of keeping his brother alive, and that was the last one that Nul tore away from him. It took the longest, and left him with the most pain. And because it's the most recent, it's the freshest wound.

He's too afraid to build, now, and too overwhelmed with guilt to allow himself reprieve from his pain. It's difficult to watch if only for how much I commiserate. If it weren't for Eistinn's bright mind and irrepressible smile, I'd allow myself to do the same.

I feel Alestere's mind from over the horizon where Ebrelle's ends. It's like looking at the pale blue light before dawn. I'll need to give him something, or to lead him to something. He can't do this on his own right now. He's no resources, and he's unwilling to maintain his own strength long enough to let those resources renew. He needs an outside shelter... a person, maybe, or even a thing. He can't be afraid of the place his shelter is built upon, and he has to be willing to use it. Over time, his mind will heal, and then he can keep himself again.

Alestere seems to understand, but he asks me to withdraw. That does seem wise - there's nothing I can do here until I have outside assistance. It's also difficult to talk from inside such a paranoid space. I slide out, ease back into my own head again, and marvel at how clean and peaceful it is in comparison.

Eistinn really is a blessing.

The frown line deepens between Ebrelle's brows. He curls a bit tighter under the blankets, then shakes. When the nightmare rolls into his head, I feel it. Alestere winces right as he feels it too - I hear the echo of him sensing Ebrelle's nightmare, in fact.

And then I hear one more echo and blink. I turn to Alestere. He looks at me, unsurprised at my reaction, then gestures for me to back away from Ebrelle and sit at the small table across the room from the bed. Meanwhile, Ebrelle shakes but stays silent. I just ponder that other echo, still feeling it.

"Who is that?" I say in a voice so light that it might be a whisper.

Alestere grimaces, the expression sitting oddly with the dimples on his face. "Jhe h'Akribastes's daughter, Jhe Stevane. She serves as his caretaker, and shares a connection to his mind so that she can fulfill her duties. Ebrelle still flinches away from me out of guilt and in an echo of his and Elete's old patterns. Stevane carries no baggage with her, and Ebrelle was willing to train her so that her mind could have a tentative connection to his."

"That makes it simple, then. If she'll agree... and if Ebrelle will." I bite my lip and frown. "If it'll work, that is. The connection's a bit farther out than I'd immediately try for, but perhaps her distance will do him some good. Safe enough to be out of his range, close enough to reach out to him when he needs it."

Alestere raises an eyebrow. "Interesting. I hadn't quite thought of taking her that far into things... feared it inappropriate." He smiles, the expression yearning as much as it is a little sneaky. "'Sy has left for awhile, though."

I sit up straighter. I keep forgetting 'Sy's gone and reproduced so much. That used to be Rhia and I's territory, after all. It's so strange, thinking of his family connection to me, and Ebrelle and Alestere's connection to me. Too many lives, and I'm just one person to live them all. "It wouldn't hurt her. If she can already manage to hear his dreams, then it'd be an additional convenience for her if his dreams lightened up."

Alestere shakes his head, that grin of his too amused to be properly sad. "You don't realize how much 'Sy hates Ebrelle. Sometimes I think he outdoes Elete, and 'Sy's never had to be Ebrelle's sibling. But it's understandable - when Ebrelle managed to do his worst, 'Sy was either around to witness it or witness the affected parties, and the affected... were always close to 'Sy."

I glower down at the table, nibbling on my lip. That's no good - and it's worrying, in fact.

My youngest brother claps his hands then, making me jump. The sound was soft, but abrupt. His smile, though... it's a bit mischievous. "Well, as I said - he's departed for a bit of a vacation, hasn't he?"

My eyes widen. "You're just going to do it behind his back?"

"I think it seems like the best place to do most things."

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I love my Armed uniform. It's snazzy and proper and conveys my current achievements. I also like my pajamas. They're soft and fuzzy and warm, and they go very well with my bunny slippers. When I'm in my Armed uniform I feel like I can face anything, expect possibly grass stains. When I'm in my pajamas I feel I can face bed. I brush my teeth and think over my day. It's been alright. Jhe 'Brelle was a little stubborn today but that's to be expected. I think he's actually improving, even though I can sense his growing nightmare at the very edges of my perception. That's normal - or at least, it's what I've come to think of as normal at this point. It's not chilling him nearly as much as he was after last night, so hopefully it'll just die down and turn to normal dreams. Whatever passes for normal for Ebrelle, at least.

Well, that's all to do with my job, and it's over for now. I try to put the thoughts to bed just like I already saw Jhe 'Brelle to his. I let my mind wander to my life outside of the Poet Hall... and then find there's not too much to wander over. Especially now that Myles is out, traveling to who-knows-where. I try very hard not to think about the where part, lest I accidentally start to know where he is and compromise his security. I beg for a distraction, and then of course I hear Jhe h'Leste's voice between my ears.

Jhe Stevane, I apologize very much for inconveniencing you by asking when you've gotten all the way home, but I have a project with my brother that will no doubt interest you, and I think it would be best done now instead of in the morning.

I mull that over. Frrngh.

I get a reply that's more question than words.

I spit the foam out of my mouth and rinse. It's strangely hard to enunciate mental words when my mouth is full and I'm distracted. And believe me, this is not the most embarrassing situation to discover that in. Fine. Lemme get my boots back on.

There's no rush. His voice is light, as if he's speaking of something inconsequential. There's a forced edge to it, though, which tells me that he's quite grateful I decided to accept. Thank you very much, Jhe Stevane.

You're welcome. Hm. I wonder if it's about the nightmares. I lean over and lace my boots, Millie almost falling off of her perch on my shoulder as I do so. She digs her claws into my collar and purrs a disgruntled growl into my ear.

I reach up and scratch her ears, then walk out of Daddy's house almost as soon as I had walked in.

* * *
Val
* * *

After Alestere confirms Jhe Stevane's agreement to attend our meeting, he starts the tea. By the time it's ready to pour, I hear a very soft knock on Ebrelle's door. Alestere rises to let our partner in crime in. I'm not sure what I thought she would be like - I've seen 'Sy's children in passing, so I know what she looks like. I might've had a certain expectation about her demeanor. 'Sy was very quiet, brooding in fact, and resonated strength in ways that were subtle and other ways that were blatant. That may or may not quite correspond to the red-haired young lady standing in the doorway in fuzzy teal pajamas and combat boots. I'm not sure yet.

Alestere isn't surprised at all by her odd appearance, or at least doesn't look it. Then again, from what I've gathered so far about my youngest brother, he could politely welcome a cyclone and invite it to tea without batting an eye. He just smiles and conducts the girl inside.

Stevane offers me a polite bow, her demeanor a bit wary. I can tell that some of that is simply from her own fatigue. She's had a full day of watching over Ebrelle, which seems to be a constant battle of wills.

"Ah of course Jhe Stevane, thank you for leaving introductions to me. My associate here is still becoming acquainted with Radian titles. And names." Alestere strides forward, waving his hand to Stevane, a long robed sleeve trailing the gesture. "Jhe Stevane Akribastes, second-youngest daughter of Tesynnodai, thusly your niece."

The girl jumps a little, then skirts me an inquisitive look. I can't say that I blame her - Luci's been her only yardstick for uncles. It's a little sobering for me - when I disappeared from her world, 'Sy hadn't yet had any children besides Muriel - now he has what, dozens?

Alestere extends his other hand towards me, and I swear he savors the opportunity to be so grandiose. "Valtoryeh, your father's brother and also my own, though not through any shared heritage." He suppresses a chuckle at that. Stevane turns that confused look on him on full blast, and he finally caves, almost overcome with laughter. He shakes with the effort of keeping quiet - we don't want to wake my brother, rough as his sleep is. "You've been given a very brief summary of how I, Jhe Eistinn, and Jhe Valtoryeh all came to be in Radia, but I suppose the intricacies hadn't been laid out as such. Your family tree and mine have always been unruly and resistant to gardening, haven't they? Jhe Valtoryeh has certainly come into quite a lot of relatives at once." At my pained face, Alestere decides to move things past teasing and into more productive territory. "Jhe Valtoryeh is my eldest brother now, making Ebrelle the middle child, as it were. He has some ideas on how we all might be able to make Ebrelle's life and your own quite a bit easier."

Stevane's face grows focused once that's said, as if a knife that was assumed dull suddenly proved to be quite honed. She reminds me of 'Sy now. "Well, go on, I'm all ears." Then the honed edge conceals itself once more, and she glides up to the teaset and begins to serve it, her motions proper and practiced. I still feel so watched, though... and then I notice a tiny pair of eyes tracking my movements from within Stevane's massive red mane. Another of those 'shenanigan' things. I decide to ignore it.

Then I feel a weight on my head, and curse myself. I keep forgetting that ignoring them only attracts them, and now I have a purring hat. Well, there are worse conditions. I reach up and scratch its ears, trying to keep a straight face.

Stevane muffles a giggle, then reaches up to take the shenanigan from my brow. "Sorry. She's very friendly. She keeps doing that to the strangest people."

At my face in response, I think she realizes what she didn't mean to imply. Before she can make a horrified apology, Alestere sits in one of the chairs at the table. "Stevane dear, why don't you have a seat and we can get back to business. One of our goals is that you'll have adequate time to sleep after we're finished."

She takes the opening, grateful for a change of subject, and then we explain to her what exactly is called for.

She furrows her brows, then looks up at me. "So... you want to make my head into a sleep-tent?" She's only a little dubious, and mostly curious. I think that's a good sign. I look to Alestere - he holds his palm out to me.

I get to lay out the details, then. "That's the goal, at the heart of this. You don't have to share thoughts or even guide him through his dreams per se - he just needs a space to feel safe in."

Alestere nods. "Stevane, you should be well-prepared for keeping track of others being in your mind. I've seen to it that you've been trained to permit others in and keep them out, and Ebrelle himself has trained you even further in that area recently. Additionally, there's your Armed training, which I know to be quite a bonus when it comes to controlling what goes on in your mind and what moves within it. Are you willing to tend a garden in there that is mostly for someone else's mind to occupy?"

Stevane gives the question due consideration, which relieves me. She doesn't automatically agree to it just because it's been asked of her by her King. "Can it be undone? He won't need it forever, and I might find out that it's not the best idea for me."

I nod. "By no means will it be permanent. If you're willing to do it, though, you'll need to maintain it for at least a week, if not more. Letting him stay in that space mentally and then taking it from him before he adjusts would probably hurt him worse than leaving him as he is now."

She nods. "That's fair. And if he does something wrong in my head, can I kick his butt?"

I startle. Alestere just chuckles. "With my blessing, dear Stevane."

She grins. "Then let's get going."

It doesn't take long to prepare - first we have her lie down on the couch along the far wall. Then Alestere sends her into sleep, where Ebrelle already waits.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

Pain isn't just something I feel now. It's a force that holds me to the floor of Mother's dungeon, disabling me from even squirming in fear. It's a living, breathing thing, mocking me, subjugating me, and dominating me. I lie still, unable to do anything else but listen. I still can't see - my eyes are healing from the blows dealt to me by our King.

There's a crisp clack, followed by another, and then another in quick succession. Steps. Heels. Mother's precise gait.

The final clack sounds on the floor behind my head. I feel the toe of her shoe nudge through my hair. She must be stepping on it now, to stand so close. I become aware of my own breathing, and how loud it is. It reminds me that I still am breathing, and makes me wonder whether I should be grateful.

"I don't know if he's done yet." There's the whisper of silk with the creaking of leather. Her fingers brush over my ear, then my cheek. She must be kneeling beside me now. "He's still very conscious of what's happening. He's still sharp, like a blade."

Someone chuckles behind her. One of the Kommissars? "He's to be wielded as if he's our King's sword, is he not?"

"You could say that. But our King does not prefer a double-edged sword." She runs a finger through my hair, the nail scratching against my scalp. "We'll keep the edge honed that he desires to wield. The other still needs to be blunted. Throw him back in."

I'm gathered up, my body limp, my eyes blind. I'm being lifted into something, nudged... somewhere, and we're turning. I'm being carried, and in that motion it feels like I'm pitching and yawing like a ship in a storm with a broken rudder. I'm being brought to my King again, to be broken again. After I'm done, I likely won't remember this, because I won't be here in my own head anymore. There'll be nothing.

I'm dropped. My face presses into rough-hewn wood, and still I pitch and yaw. Something wet sprays against my face. Then, the cannon fires, almost shaking my bones from my body with the volume of the report.

I open my eyes and am not blind anymore. There is an ocean. I am on a ship. The metaphorical boat is now... actual. My mind reels in confusion, unused to this memory happening like this. I try to figure that out, think of why I would be expecting anything in the middle of such horror, but before I can draw a conclusion about what mental state I'm in, a voice behind me shakes me out of my focus. "Get up! We've got tah fight 'em off!"

I prop myself up on an arm, then cling to the deck as the ship almost rolls on its side. Wait, I can move my own body now? When was I able to move? But the question seems irrelevant now - I'm out at sea, on a ship that's in quite troubled waters. I turn to the voice behind me.

Stevane glares at me from underneath a vast plumed hat, wearing a nautical-looking coat adorned with buttons, black leather boots reaching up to her knees. "Jhe 'Brelle! Get yer skinny arse up before we're beseiged completely!" What... why is she speaking so strangely, in such a crude accent?

I glare at her and begin to voice a retort, but then something skitters across the deck in front of me. I look up and see several others further down the deck. Little wet clumps of fur with triangular ears and soaked feathers along their backs. They have long tails. What are they, mutant rats? Monkey birds? Winged cats?

One crawls up into the muzzle of a cannon. Then Stevane lights the fuse on the back and plugs her ears with her fingers, grinning in anticipation. She raises her eyebrows as she sees me. "COVER YER EARS YA DOOF!"

My intuition tells me to take up the suggestion. The roar of the cannon is slightly more tolerable when muffled by my hands. My eyes track the trajectory of the shot - in mid-air, the cannonball opens its wings and changes course. Did the flying cat really get shot out of that cannon? It certainly appears so - and then it impacts the ship assailing us, bits of wood flying with the precisely targeted explosion.

Stevane loads up another shenanigan. Ah yes, shenanigans, I remember those from... where do I remember those from? It doesn't really matter - what matters is that Stevane and another Stevane, and another Stevane down the deck, are all loading cannons with the furry, wily little things, and that the ship we're facing is doomed.

I watch the spectacle and stay where I am on the deck, content to behold it, and feel as if I'm resting from some great ordeal that I can't quite remember.

* * *
Val
* * *

I withdraw from Ebrelle's mind. "It's done. I didn't quite think he'd make it into her dreams, but I suppose that's a safer place than his own." I look up at Alestere. "You said that's a common thing, for Poets?"

He nods. "We go nipping in and out of heads quite a bit, as part of our duties. Writing requires it, really. Your abilities aren't too different in comparison, in fact."

I smile, though he might not understand just why that contents me so. It's nice, though, to feel like what set me apart from people before is, for a certain group of people, a normal part of their day. "Well then... hm." I frown. "I didn't think she'd fall asleep so deeply after this."

"We'll leave her here." Alestere brings a blanket to the couch and covers her up, the shenanigan nestling near her feet. "She'll end up here in the morning anyway, and I feel it'll be best for her to be near him when he wakes. It'll offset any... oddness." He looks up at me, seeing the concern on my face. "I'll make sure to be here when it happens, don't worry. If you're extra concerned, I can have you here as well."

I shake my head. "I still make him nervous. He thinks of me as the old Eistinn - when Eistinn and I were the same person, most of my features were dominant." I laugh. "It's a little strange to see Eistinn now and see how different he looks. Rather like Luci's son, in fact. All that curly hair."

Alestere smiles. "We'll have to have a bit of a reunion once Ebrelle recovers. Family has been rare for us, and far too spited too often."

That sobers me a bit. "Perhaps. Until then, I've sleep of my own to obtain." I rise, then nod to Alestere. "Good evening to you. Please tell me how it goes."

"Of course." He still lingers as I leave. I have a nagging at the back of my mind that Alestere should make sure to sleep too, but he can look after himself, can't he?

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"Well, you said you would consider having someone guide you through your dreams," Alestere says, as if what happened last night is in any way comparable.

I'd retort to him that I never agreed to such a thing and that I was only considering it, but it's a little hard to find it in me to argue too hard. It takes an edge to my temper to get a really good bite in my arguments, and that edge isn't there now. I would have to deliberately sharpen and hone to have that edge, and... I really don't care to.

I'm not sure why. I feel so strange, and it's putting me out of sorts. This isn't normal for me in the morning. I can't quite say that it isn't right, but... I'm certainly not used to it.

"It's because you feel fine," Stevane says with a heavy sigh. I raise an eyebrow at her intrusion in my thoughts, and then realize that she's not intruding. I let her in. I made an allowance, somehow, while I slept. I had already trained her to get halfway there, and then some part of me permitted the rest of it to be done. I almost speak up in protest for myself, but that would be tantamount to arguing with myself, which I've certainly done before but I won't allow other people to witness the spectacle.

I just close my mouth and don't quite say anything about this yet. That's as close to a retort as I can come.

Alestere pats me on the head. "It is abrupt, and I am sorry, but we wanted to assist you. Stevane and I are both tired of feeling your pain while you sleep and being able to do nothing about it."

I nod. I... don't quite feel intruded upon. There is that. I don't feel terrible, I don't feel violated, I don't feel trapped or like something has been stolen from me. I have a breadth of experience in all of those areas, so I feel confident in assessing these things. The fact of the matter is that I feel better this morning than I felt yesterday morning, or quite a few mornings before.

I just... need to think about it.

Alestere chuckles. I raise an eyebrow at him. He looks sheepish, but still incorrigible. "You look as if you want to be angry about us taking away an excuse for you to glower over everything." He laughs when I truly do glower at him in response.

Still. My mind is quiet, calm... peaceful. A clean slate. A place from which to build. To build... what? "I... thank you."

Alestere bows, then takes his leave with no more words between us, satisfied that we are settled.

Stevane deposits a tray into my lap. "Eat." She's just as businesslike and bossy as usual, but with slightly less of a raw edge. I realize that she does feel my nightmares to some extent, even if she doesn't always know what they are exactly. Last night, I dreamed in her head instead, and found no nightmares in there. She woke up without feeling my pain or remembering my fear - that will probably make her temper a bit milder in the morning.

I eat without any protest, occasionally nudging Stevane's shenanigan away from my ham. I recall the shenanigans hurtling from the cannons and can't help but smile.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

The guilt breathes down the back of my neck, surprising me with its heat and ferocity. It's not something I anticipated, but now that it's here... well, best to acquiesce.

Elete always managed to get away with these things, you see, or got herded around by Stevane before he could manage to do so. But Stevane doesn't keep watch on me. It's not her job, and thus she doesn't feel the pull to do so. She has someone else to shepherd now, and he needs her ever so much more.

No, I'm just a fool who can't remember that even a Time Lord must sleep. I really should have done so at night - even an hour would have been enough for me to multiply out into the potential for a full night's sleep, or close to it. I don't need much to work with, but I do have to work with something. But I was swayed by Elete's old habits and predelictions towards getting into trouble as a matter of course. Now there's no Judge nor anyone else to yell at me for it and shuttle me off to bed, and I... I sort of miss that.

That's silly. I don't need a babysitter. I should be strong enough on my own. I'm independent. But still I sort of ache, because I'm used to those old ways Elete had. And Elessandre had his shepherds too, in Captain Jules and Sam. I suppose all of me is used to being a kept man, to some degree.

I walk to my suite, enter my bedroom, and prepare for a morning nap. I'm not really all that tired, and I could get away with not sleeping at all. I'm very healthy, I have lots of energy. It's habit that's got me into bed, and that weird old guilt that I've betrayed the people who no longer look after me, and trust me to look after myself in their stead. Perhaps it's that trust that's riddling me with guilt. Perhaps I'm turning into a silly old man faster than I can even get gray hair (gods forbid).

A shenanigan curls up against the back of my neck and begins to purr, and another few nestle against my chest, and then the fatigue hits me. Perhaps I am tired, after all. I can get tired, even in this reborn form. It might just be time for me to accept that. I begin to consider it right as sleep rolls over me.

* * *
Rahellene
* * *

Daddy's said something that, for the first time since I can remember, I didn't like hearing. My response is, well, less than mature.

I stamp my foot. "I don't want to."

He doesn't look surprised, which I would expect. I was surprised by that little outburst. Instead, his expression shifts into what I would suspect was a smile if this were a different situation. He clasps his hands behind him, leans back a little, and lets his shoulders relax. His eyes close, and he exhales, somehow at peace.

His eyes open, and he stands up straight again, composing himself. He puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks straight into my eyes.

"Rahellene, I want to visit him even less than you do, but I have to do what I have to do for my Empire. You also feel compelled to do what you have to do for your own homeland. If that is what you want, then you need to give your regards to your Father before you leave. That is part of your duty." He leans back, letting out another, less peaceful sigh. "And besides, if you don't do it, then I'll have to deal with him when he finds out that you left without saying anything to him. I can be there when you talk to him, if you want. I would like that much better than having to talk to him alone after you leave."

I bite my lip. Daddy works so hard, and he's done everything I've ever asked, and I'd really like to just ask him to deal with Father anyway. I wonder for a moment if I could convince him to do that, however much he'd not like that. He likes me a lot. He likes to make me happy. He never tells me no when I ask him for something, either! Maybe he just needs to reconsider.

And well... who can really tell me no, if I really want something? Jax never told me no, because he knew what was good for him. Daddy thinks he knows Father, but he hasn't lived with him for years like I did. He doesn't know what it's like to be under Father's control, to try to face him and find all your words stolen before they even reach your tongue. To be petted on the head like I'm just another pretty bird, and then suddenly there's no thought in me, no motivation, just a contentment and lack of worry that isn't really mine but won't go away.

"You... you just don't know." I bite my lip. I suppose it could look like I'm trying to be pitiful, but really I'm just nervous.

He doesn't even argue - just tilts his head with a smile that's too sad to be on his face. "I do, but perhaps we don't need to talk about that right now." He looks... tense. I thought he'd tell me I was wrong and order me to go do it anyway, not look afraid.

What's Father done, that we're both like this? "Maybe we do."

He shakes his head. "No. You're not ready. I'm not ready. But we're both high-strung enough from that to help us get through a little family talk, aren't we? Sometimes you can play your weaknesses as if they're strengths."

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"Okay, now get out of bed already. You slept just fine." Stevane crosses her arms and glares at me. "And if you keep sitting around all day you're going to get fat."

I raise an eyebrow, every bit of my regal bearing drawing me up. "Xaillyndessen don't get fat, my dear."

She snorts. "That's because you're the first one of them to discover donuts."

I frown. I don't see what's wrong with that. Donuts are so delicious, after all, flaky and light with any number of flavors and little sprinkles on them. I like the sprinkles the most.

I allow myself to be shooed out of bed without much of any fuss. It seems silly to put up a fight when I don't feel like being in bed at all. I want to get up and do things and apply this energy that I've managed to scrape up from seemingly nowhere. Is that what sleep is supposed to do for me? It's been something to endure in the months since my recuperation began, and before then it was just a chance for my mind to be pulled into Nul for orders and more conditioning.

I realize I'm just standing here doing nothing. I should get out of my nightrobe and into something appropriate for...

"Stevane? What is it that I do, anyway?" I catch the girl in the middle of picking through the tea tins. She pauses in her fiddling, face perplexed, and looks up as if I'm crazy.

"Whine to me? Drink all the mint without telling me to replace it? Tell stuff to Jhe h'Leste that you don't think I'll understand because you don't think I know Aurocan?"

Wait, she knows Aurocan?

"Forget to braid your hair before you sleep and then complain that it's all tangled in the morning?"

I wave my hand. "No, I mean beside all that."

She shrugs. "Other than that you do a lot of nothing."

I frown. "Well then, what am I to wear?"

"To do nothing? I guess you wear noth-- I mean, um..." A knock at the door saves us both from an awkward moment. She sighs with relief. "Excuse me. I'll see to it."

Strange. I wasn't expecting Alestere to come back so soon. I watch her pad to the door, only now realizing that she's still in pajamas and combat boots. I'm not even really sure when she dressed in those, come to think. What did I miss last night?

"Oh!" Stevane sounds surprised.

I try to poke at who could be out there but the room's well-warded both inside and out. Alestere told me that if he left the Hall open for me to probe with my mind, I'd never climb out of my own head... and cited security concerns for some reason.

"He's not dressed yet. It's been an odd morning. Would you like to come back in fifteen minutes? Oh, good. Thank you!" She closes the door, then turns to me.

I raise both eyebrows. "Alestere needs me to dress up for audiences with him now?"

"No, you silly. Get into something presentable, your daughter Rahellene is here to visit you. And so is Unkie, so I'll need to go get the coffee. I'll help you with your hair when I'm back." She catches my eyes, looking a little deeper than I expected. "Alright?"

I realize that's not an opening for me to say 'no'.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

It would figure: after all the years of me haranguing Jhe h'Logos about it, all the struggles, the pain, the fights, the tears, and the pouts... the one time I really need to ask him for help, he's actually asleep when he should be. I can't get mad at him about it, either. He's being responsible! I'm actually kind of proud.

But I also sense a situation that could easily boil into something not-so-good. I don't talk to Jhe 'Brelle too much about Unkie or vice versa, but I've picked up enough from Jhe 'Brelle's dreams and Jhe h'Leste's careful suggestions to know where there's bad blood. Jhe h'Leste would know how to manage things to keep them calm. He has a way with people - I've noticed so far that he has a better knack than even Jhe h'Lete did. But he's not here right now. I am.

Well, coffee will make it better. That's a start, so I'm off to get some. Jhe 'Brelle seems a bit shaken up by the possibility of a talk, but he can dress himself alone. And just in case even that manages to overcome his delicate sensibilities, I left Millie behind with him.

It doesn't take me too long to get the coffee together, but I decide to wait just a little bit longer to let Jhe 'Brelle compose himself. Usually I have to guess at this stuff, but we're more solidly connected now - which means I can tell that he's a bit slow about getting his clothes in order. He is, at least, moving along and making a real attempt at looking presentable. He's just a little shaken up. More shaken up than I expected--

--really don't want to see him right now, wish I never had to again--

--but I suppose whatever happened between them once wasn't pretty.

They have to get along at some level, though. They've got two kids, and that's not something you can do on accident when you're both male. I'm not even sure how they do it. I mean, I've never really had to worry about it myself - I've just had to focus on not getting pregnant when I... you know. Between anyone Archo-bred being able to decide when they have a child, and the Regeneration Chamber and all its mystical powers, and the kinds of magic you can find or buy or barter for if you try hard enough or have the right amount of riches, there's all sorts of interesting ways that you can have or not have a child in Crux Radia. Then there's all the weird things Thelea Xaillyndesse has done to make children, and Jhe 'Brelle's old laboratory work...

Make a list of the weirdest ways you could think of to end up with a baby, pick one at random, and that's probably how Jhe Katherine happened. If you've ever met her, no potential origin story should surprise you. I didn't even know Jhe 'Brelle was her other Father until I ended up having to babysit him. As for Jhe Rahellene, I don't even know. I just know Unkie dotes on her like she's still a baby. Not that he doesn't spoil all the rest of his kids, plus his nieces and nephews.

Yeah, Unkie's the type to spoil a kid. Jhe 'Brelle's the type to keep them on a nice comfy and safe trinket shelf, then feel terrible about it when they don't like him for it afterward. Which, I suppose, is its own way of spoiling.

Well, the coffee has been done for awhile, and if I wait any longer it'll start to get cold. Jhe 'Brelle seems to be as presentable as he can get himself. Time to help him arrange his hair and then host an audience between him, Unkie, and their younger daughter.

Thrilling.

* * *

Jhe 'Brelle insists that I rearrange his hairpins one more time. I sigh, tuck a few between my lips to hold them while I arrange his endless hair, then weave the mass of it through the slender pins one last time.

"Is the clump showing?" His voice is plaintive. He's fretted over this for several minutes. Gerald told me the story about Lyric cutting the bit of Jhe 'Brelle's hair - it seems to have been farther towards the outer layers than my brother had intended. Sometimes the shorter strands stick out a bit.

"I've hidden it just fine. You know, you could just cut the whole mass of it to the length of that little short bit, then--" His glare cuts me off. It's not the first time I've made that jab, and not the first time he's given me that glare in reply. I pat his head, keeping in mind that I'm probably the only person who could do so in response to that look and still live. "Your hair is beautiful. No one can see the tuft."

He exhales through his fine Xaillyndesse nose. The little hump in it only shows a tad. When Daddy breaks something, he means it.

"Do you want to change your earrings?" I hold up a few other pairs. His current ones are a little less gaudy than what he's known for, but then, his tastes have turned a bit from then.

"No. These are fine." He still angles his head to see the tiny silver filigrees dangle and sway from his lobes.

"Would you like to try some makeup? It would just be a minute or two."

He scowls. "Considering my years on the throne, my face has been painted enough to last my entire lifetime."

I smile just a bit. "Well then, you're done. Take a seat and I'll conduct the guests to theirs."

He doesn't really have a retort to that - in fact, he's surprised I led him into it so easily. He sits at the table in the main room. Millie curls at his feet. I draw the curtains around his bed and wonder if he couldn't do with a larger space now. This has been fine for recuperation, but isn't he gaining his feet?

I look at him sitting there, back straight, hands folded in his lap, trying so hard to project invulnerability, and I wonder.

Well, everything's set, then. He looks suitably formal (but not to the level of a parade float), and the coffee and tea are set up, and we're ready for our guests. I hope the room doesn't explode or anything. I open the door and make my best diplomatic bow (which is pretty good, if I must say so myself - Jhe h'Lete said that I'd have passed my Diplomacy classes much faster if I never had to actually open my mouth in them).

Unkie has a strange smile on his face, as if he's holding in a laugh. I'm not really sure why, but I wave him in anyway. Jhe Rahellene raises her eyebrows at me. Have I done something offensive? That really is my very best bow. Well, nothing to be done for it - I close the door behind them both, lead them to their seats, and begin to serve the tea and coffee.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

It is at least somewhat of a relief that Stevane's here for this meeting - it means that someone's here that could possibly in some way keep Ebrelle in check, or possibly make him keep himself in check. I can never tell with him - he's always been so precise, so measured about his attacks, that they almost always appear planned. He always did take such pains to present a front that showed no flaws nor errors. So much window dressing, so many props, so many dances and rehearsed acts.

I suppose that's why looking at him now throws me off so much - he's dressed well for the occasion, his hair is done, he's more than presentable... but it's not as over-starched and obsessively pinned and immaculate as his act used to be. I've seen him in all manner of dress and undress, and I've certainly caught him without his all his feathers in place, but those weren't the times he was before his own Court. Perhaps it's the white hair that's throwing him in such sharp contrast to the Ebrellin-i I knew - he's so pale that without the dark mane surrounding him, he's almost ghostly. It's so strange to see his face without any makeup on it, either. It looks so naked, out here in the open. He doesn't have his mask.

And I admit I might be making this up, but he almost looks afraid.

Stevane finishes with the coffee and tea. We each take a courtesy sip or two before talking. I assume I'll mostly be speaking for Rahellene, since she was so anxious to have this meeting. Considering the custodial implications and the diplomatic sensitivity, it's a little strange to have Stevane here for this, but since she's been with Ebrelle for the last few months she's probably up to speed on a number of issues. She doesn't let him boss her around, either. So it really does level the playing field. I open my mouth to begin the meeting.

"Father, I'm going to Audiva Rocale within the week." Rahellene sits up in her chair, straight and prim, her posture that of someone in control and confident they'll succeed.

I'm so proud that I forget for a moment that my mouth is still open. Nobody notices because Ebrelle is staring at Rahellene like she just announced she was pregnant with quintuplets, and Stevane's looking at Ebrelle with a pinched expression of trying-not-to-show-worry. I close my mouth. Ebrelle opens his. I brace for impact.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Odd, that's not the loud, commanding protest I expected from him. There's nothing devious about it, either. He looks genuinely worried. Then again, he always was the type to shelter a child, like 'Sy tried to be sometimes and mostly failed at or gave up on.

Rahellene looks over to me. Ah, my turn. "I've been in communication with our own defense and guards as well as the ones in place at your Palace. I've the assurance of the new Kommissar that her safety will be ensured. Considering he's looked after the safety of our soldiers instead of killing them left and right as his predecessor did, I'm inclined to trust him. He's shown concern for you, even made some noise about hoping you'd return sooner than projected." Odd, he got a little pale there. I'll have to ask Stevane if he's been ill lately. "He certainly has an affinity for the Aurocan royal family, other than the Queen Mother, and it's the last point that endears him the most to me, I'll admit."

Ebrelle makes a smirk that looks half-ill, but I suppose the subject of Thelea Xaillyndesse puts everyone off their last meal. He sips at his tea, and then Millie flops aggressively onto his ankle and purrs louder. When he looks up, he's remarkably more composed. "Jhe Calyx Gorey must be the one you speak of. I kept him at a distance as much as I did the Kommissar, as he was his right hand man at the time. My knowledge of him is not as extensive as it could be. I've no complaints of him, though - he seemed focused on his job and on the Empire more than his own petty power grabs. Otherwise I always suspected Xen would be long dead by now." He blinks, then hazards a glance at Stevane.

She hums to herself, not looking any of us in the eye.

"Well, no sense digging up the dead--"

"Except for a few more stabs," mutters Stevane.

"--when the living are the matter at hand." Ebrelle regards his daughter. "It's not going to be as it once was, my daughter. Your gardens are no longer kept, and the wards will not function at all the same. I cannot ensure your protection there yet myself, and I've yet to recover enough to... consider the journey there yet."

I frown. What's he getting around? There's something he's hiding.

"Perhaps you'd like to wait? It would terrify me to know you weren't properly attended, dear daughter." Ah, that old composure again, that sneaky tongue. I recognize this Ebrelle now. It almost relaxes me to see him playing the same old games.

"I can see to my own safety, little as you taught me to," Rahellene says with more disdain than I care to hear, but less than I think Ebrelle deserves for his treatment of her prior to now. "I'm just as capable as you are of managing for myself. More, in fact."

Ebrelle raises an eyebrow. I'm expecting him to rise up and argue, but instead he looks... weary. My, his recovery has been slow... or perhaps Rahellene's was far too fast for him to bear. He looks to me instead of her. "I suppose you've attempted reason with her already?"

I snort. "Reason? She wants something perfectly justifiable, Ebrelle. Her home. I've already promised her protection. We only want a promise from you."

Something lurks back in his eyes - suspicion, with the expectation of future treachery. "Go on?"

I take a deep breath, then brace myself. It really hasn't been so bad so far. He's barely fought us. Maybe we'll get through this intact. "She wants your promise that you won't cage her ever again, and you will allow her to live her life freely, in the spirit the Law provides her. You won't be able to do anything now, but we know one day soon you'll be in Audiva Rocale again, on your throne. It's not going to be the same this time, Ebrelle - we want your promise of that, and we'll report said oath to the Judge if need be."

He looks away. For a moment, he looked like a trapped animal, and I felt sick looking at him. Only for that moment, though. His fingers curl, hands clenching in his lap, as if grasping for purchase. When he does speak, his voice is dry. "The Law is the Law. I can't change that. Go, and be safe."

Rahellene stares at him for ten full seconds, unable to reply. I don't think she believes her ears. I might not believe mine. Stevane only looks concerned for Ebrelle, frowning slightly.

"Well." I nod to Ebrelle. "I thank you, as her other Father."

"Thank you, Father. Both of you." Rahellene rises, then curtsies. "There is no other business, so I shall go and gather my things."

Ebrelle just bites his lip. I feel strange, looking at him. I decide to rise as well, the feeling making me uncomfortable. "Thank you for your time. She will write, of course, and I'll have constant correspondence from our combined security forces regarding her safety and well-being. Don't hesitate to ask for them."

Ebrelle nods in reply, unable to meet my eyes. "Thank you."

I give Stevane a nod, and I feel the tiniest push from her, as if she wishes me to leave. Time for her to do damage control, perhaps. I'm not averse to fulfilling her request.

I realized what it is I felt when looking at Ebrelle. Pity. I don't know if I ever felt it for him before, truly felt it, even when I watched him lie broken and all but possessed in our own jail cell. Now I look at him and it just about breaks my heart.

I leave and hurry to my office, trying to put the pity out of my mind. I've too much work to do, and too little time to worry over Ebrelle's feelings. He got himself into this mess, after all.

* * *

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

Stevane busies herself with the tea and coffee, cleaning up after our diplomatic theatre. She's a blur at the edge of my senses, not someone that I really track so much as I'm aware of being in the room. Most of the room is a blur, to be honest. There's just a hazy void with me in the center of it, trying to ignore that ache inside of myself, trying to ignore the memories churning up. I'll just wait it out until I can see properly again, until I can sense some kind of world beyond my mind.

There's a sudden lurching weight on my knee, the prick of claws trying to lend me aid, and then Millie presses her furry head against my hand and demands to be petted. I accquiesce. It might be ironic that someone such as me, who'd tamed and trained so many animals, now finds himself to be bossed around by a critter he can't even properly catalog. She helps me forget, though, or ignore. Stevane tends to be good at that.

...Actually, I'm not sure if I was thinking about the shenanigan or the girl.

"Alright, are you done?" I look up, blinking against the haze that I expect but don't see. My vision's cleared up and the world isn't tunneled off from me anymore. Instead, Stevane stands in front of me, a cloth napkin in her hand, her hands on her hips, and her eyes narrowed.

I think I might be in trouble, and I swear I don't know what for.

She frowns. "Stop lying. It was bad enough seeing you lie to my Uncle just now, but it might be worse seeing you do it to yourself."

Now I'm exasperated. Alestere said that this mind connection was only to help with my nightmares, not to give Stevane some sort of way to monitor my thoughts.

"I don't think I really need to read your thoughts when I can see what you're thinking so clearly on your face." She lets out a heavy sigh, then flops into the chair she was previously occupying. I notice that the table is spotless now, and there's no evidence of our meeting left behind. She leans forward, elbows on the table. "I don't like seeing someone lie to my Uncle, ever, but I let you slide by because he didn't seem to want to press you on it, and I didn't think pressing you would result in anything anyone would want to witness. Still, you don't have any intention of going to Audiva Rocale. That's obvious. But when were you going to tell us?"

I have trouble looking her in the eye. Everything's going a bit fuzzy again. I'm starting to fade out again. She shakes my shoulder.

"Jhe 'Brelle? It's okay. No one's going to hurt you here."

But that's such a lie, really - my youngest daughter came in here and brought her other Father with her and forced me away from her. I can't even say I didn't deserve it. I just destroy everything I touch, really, and now they want me to go to the one place where I can do the most damage and the most damage can be done to me?

Then something hurts me all of a sudden, but in such an unexpected way that I jerk upright and open my eyes wide and everything goes back into focus.

Stevane rears back from me, her hand still raised at the end point of the arc that swept against my cheek. I reach up to my face, gingerly pressing my fingertips against the place where she slapped me. She glares, with concern if that's possible. She almost looks afraid of what she's just done. Then she lowers her hand and squares up her shoulders.

"You think you're not a threat if you stay in your room and do nothing? You're a threat to every person you love and every person who cares about you, including all those people in your Empire who swear allegiance to you. You're a threat because you're just going to fail them and us and bring doom on us all. If you don't want to do anyone any harm then you're out of luck. Nobody has that choice. So you'd better figure out something to do, or I'll just go tell Unkie."

I blink. Threats from Jhe o'Radia never meant something to me until now - they were just something to brush away with diplomacy or subterfuge until I didn't have to worry about his brother coming into the equation. Now Luciprochoros has more power over my life than I have over his, which is something I suppose I knew but never really considered until Stevane threatened to tattle on me like I was some sort of errant sibling. "I can explain why I cannot go back to Audiva Rocale."

She looks dubious. "Then are you going to explain it to him?"

"I... I don't know if he'll understand, and I'm afraid that he won't listen. If he won't, then he may try to force me into Audiva Rocale, and that might prove disastrous. Everyone is safer if I'm not there, I assure you." She remains unconvinced. I curse myself. She's so stubborn! Sometimes I swear she's worse than Elete! "He thinks everything will be okay if I assume the throne again, but it won't be. It'll just open me to possession and... to Nul. I can't do that to everyone. It was hard enough for your brother to pull me out of that."

She looks away. Lyric is such a sensitive subject for everyone. I try not to say anything, even though I miss him terribly, and feel so much guilt over what happened to him because of me.

"I don't want that to happen ever again. I won't be strong enough, no matter how long I'm given to recover. I've endured years of training and grooming to make me into sort of puppet. It's just not safe. I'm not safe. I don't even know why they allowed me anywhere near your mind."

She looks back at me with her eyes narrowed, and frost in her tone. "Are you implying that I'm safe?"

There's something to her now, some sort of predatory, hawkish look that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end. It's a familiar type of fear, but I have trouble placing it, possibly because I'm afraid to. There's a whisper in the back of my mind, and then I realize that it's her mind. No... it's finding me by way of her mind, but the source is really...

Am I so nice and safe and fuzzy to you that I'll have to prove otherwise? The metal edge to the tone gives the words an eerie twist.

I feel very cold when I realize that Stevane's Arms are talking to me. I've never even seen them. To be honest, I pretend they don't exist, most of the time. That way I can pretend she's not Armed. But I can't ignore how this fear feels familiar, now. I'm on edge the same way that I tend to be around the Judge. I keep forgetting Stevane is his daughter - a convenient, necessary amnesia to keep my mental peace.

"I'm not," I finally answer. "Are you implying that you can defend yourself against me, though?"

"If I couldn't, then neither Jhe h'Leste, Jhe h'Akribastes, nor Jhe o'Radia would have allowed me here with you. Give me some credit. I'm here to protect you just as much as I am to babysit you. As much as it may shock you, there is a possibility that you are not the most dangerous person in the room right now."

I mull that over.

"Are you ever going to do anything with yourself?" Stevane cuts through my thoughts, though at least she uses the least damaging method to do so.

"Whatever do you mean?" I'm getting a little tired of this interrogation and being pressed to admit things, especially with someone so well-equipped to pick out the targets within me.

"You said it yourself, earlier: 'Stevane, what is it that I do, anyway?' I told you the answer, and then you promptly forgot about it all. But it's worth asking again. What is it that you're going to do here? I'm not going to sit by watching you mope until Unkie decides to ask you the wrong question."

I don't even see why it is that I need to do anything. There's nothing that I can do to fix the situation at hand, after all, and certainly nothing I can do for my family. I'm no use to anyone. I'm about to dwell on that when I realize Stevane's making my hair stand on end again, and that she can hear my thoughts.

Well, what is it that I can do? There's no way that I know of to fix the problem in my Palace - Nul will encroach and take over, because it's what Nul does. Although, when I think of it pragmatically, that's not a very satisfying answer, is it? You can't just explain something away like that with no rational reason for it. But no one's ever conducted a thorough analysis of Nul. The very thought is madness - why, you'd need a fantastic lab for it, some method of keeping samples, some way of examining it while managing to shield yourself... although, now that I contemplate all that, I have some idea of how I would construct it all. Just as a mental exercise, mind.

"I've seen that before. That stuff you're trying to make."

I look up at her, eyes wide. "When did you--"

"Lyiannethe. The Kommissar's laboratory. He had all sorts of stuff he was messing around with, and I bet some of it's what you need. I bet a lot of it's still there. Jhe Calyx didn't much like the place at all, and I bet he'd be glad to hand some stuff over. Someone needs to find out what was going on there, anyway."

I'm aghast at the thought of actually attempting any of this madness.

She snorts. "You need to learn to stop lying to yourself. You'll learn to have a lot more fun once you do."

"But no one would help me, Stevane. No one's as crazy as all that."

Stevane taps her chin. "Oh, I know one guy."

I raise an eyebrow.

She grins. "My Uncle."

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Trail life is hard! Especially with Gerude's Father around - we keep doing things like we're supposed to instead of taking it easy. Gerude seems to thrive on the extra vigilance, so there's no sympathy for me from his quarter. He's like a miniature of Jhe h'Akribastes sometimes, I swear. At least right now I'm getting a rest. Fast asleep, in fact. We're traveling in the desert, after all. The best way to not burn your eyes out or roast your skin off is to just sleep during the day and travel in the evening and night. Of course, it doesn't feel so much like sleep to me, because my dreams get so active. That might be why Gerude accuses me of hitting him in my sleep sometimes.

It's not my fault that I've got places to be. Places I'm being summoned to, in fact. The thing about being a Poet is that there are just so many interesting ways to check in with the management. So off I dream and off I go.

Dream travel is so much more convenient than that desert trail nonsense. Practically instant. I feel out the place I'm in when I arrive. Yup, this is the spot. I'd recognize the King's quarters in any mental state. They always look the same no matter if I'm dreaming or awake. I drop into a chair, then stretch my arms over my head for a few moments before settling back into it. The best thing about our King's office is that his chairs are so comfortable. "Jhe h'Logos? You asked for a report?" I look around for him. He's not in view, but I'm too comfy to get up and look much further.

Ah, there's the King, I see him out of the corner of my eye, from somewhere behind me.

"Indeed I did." The voice is wrong for Jhe h'Logos. I should feel alarm a bit sooner than it comes over me, but I must admit, my guard's down. I never even made a pretense of putting it up, fool me.

I decide to stay calm and keep my seat, then, instead of expending useful energy on what might be a pointless struggle. "Jhe Edward. Such an unexpected pleasure."

"Jhe Blackirons." He comes closer, but stays out at my side, not quite in plain view yet. It seems he's keeping to the shadows. No surprise there. "I've been away from my favorite pupil for such a long time. How do you fare?" From here I can just barely make out his eyes - the irises are blank, and I can see no pupil. His face is too shadowed for me to make out more.

I repress a grimace, ending up with a smirk instead. I lean back against one arm of my chair, giving me a better line of sight on Edward. He takes a step back in response. "I fare well, but considering the circumstances I'm a little out of sorts. Just what are you doing in Jhe h'Logos's quarters? Surely you haven't defected back to Crux Radia so quickly."

"I am Jhe h'Logos, Jhe Blackirons." Edward adjusts his posture to be a bit more haughty. "This is, of course, my territory." He's not just making idle conversation. I can feel the nudge in his words, the working of Poetry - he's trying to draw me in with his speech and distract me.

His territory? I question my surroundings. They look the same as Jhe h'Logos's quarters... to a degree. The furnishings change just a bit from time to time as the Poet King receives gifts or has to replace certain things. While the overall appearance is the same, details vary over the years. What I see now doesn't match my King's current quarters exactly - but they did probably look exactly like this about ten years ago, when Edward was still in the Poet Hall. A shame I wasn't alert enough to check on that ahead of time! Jhe h'Logos doesn't keep his quarters so dark, either. Edward wants those shadows to hide in, though.

Typical of him. And he called my work cliche!

"It seems that this is in fact a place of yours, Jhe Edward - but it is not what I'd call Jhe h'Logos's territory, no matter how accurate a construct you make." I brush a piece of imaginary lint off of my sleeve. "Nor how often or how fervently you claim to be Jhe h'Logos. I know my own King."

He snorts. "Indeed you do, Jhe Blackirons. You've known me for quite some time." He steps forward, taking care to stay well away from my chair, walking in the areas where the shadows hang. He then takes a seat himself, regarding me from the new vantage. "The person you knew to be Jhe h'Logos is dead, through an unfortunate set of circumstances, and I remain." He waves his hand to the side. "Whoever it is in Radia that has presumed to take the title is an impostor, unconfident and easily shaken. He doesn't have the proper strength of will and presence of mind to keep the position for too much longer. Surely some of you have already noticed how he strains under his duties... practically sweating his own confidence away?" There's real concern in his voice, no matter how false his words must be. The fact that I can't test them as false is a little strange, but I could think of some reasons as to why I don't detect the taint of lies on his tongue as I should. There's no telling what Nul can cloak and hide, especially for someone who's sworn himself to the Jherent.

"Your observations are quite intriguing, but I don't share your concern. Perhaps you should devote your time to more constructive pursuits than stalking people... or tricking and detaining them, for that matter."

Edward shakes his head... then breaks into a soft chuckle. "You're my star pupil, Jhe Blackirons. You'll survive. But won't you stay for awhile?" Something starts to wrap around my arms, linking them to the chair's arms. "It's a bit lonely in here, I must admit - and you and I really must pool our resources together, being of such like mental capabilities and Poetic persuasions. Really, don't you yearn for someone who understands you writing, who knows the significance in the shadows you let linger in your work, who accepts that certain things must be left just a little bit dark... just a little bit tragic?"

I jerk myself up, shaking out of the trance he was lulling me into. I remind myself that I don't want to be stuck to this chair, I don't want to let myself be restrained, and most of all I certainly don't want to be around Edward any longer than I have to be. "No, but thank you for thinking of me." I stand up, the arms of the chair not wanting to let me go. So, well, I stand up with it still attached to my arms. It's merely a construct, after all, with no real weight to it. This is just a dream. My dream. My dream where there's a chair stuck to me, but whatever.

Edward opens his mouth to spout some more stalkerish tragic tripe, but I decide that I'm deaf in this dream, and I'm also in the desert, and I'm alone. And then I decide, after a moment's contemplation of the starry night sky, that a chair is no longer stuck to my arms. Then I sit in it.

I look up at the constellations of my dreams, contemplate, and interpret. Edward is active again. Edward is trying to reach Poets again. And Edward is attacking my King - or at least he wants me to think he is.

The chair's real nice, though.

* * *
Edward
* * *

Erynn is a loss. That much is for a certain. Whether he remains a loss in the future is something I will just have to wait and see. Perhaps I can influence scenarios to come out in my favor. Perhaps not.

What is certain is that I am alone in this place now... if I can call it a place. It is my home now, at least... but this deep inside Nul, I can rarely if ever make out any of my surroundings. I doubt I even have surroundings. There are some times where I wonder if I still have a body... but I'm fairly certain that hasn't changed, even though I've yet to physically leave Nul since I became Herald.

Someone else would understand, if they were here. And surely they would assist me... if only they were beside me. There must be a Poet who understands me, who won't subscribe to the delusion that the current Jhe h'Logos is any replacement for the previous one... or for me, for that matter.

They'll see. If they won't see now, they will soon. The impostor Jhe h'Logos will break under my assault if he doesn't cede the crown to me.

Reaching him now would be difficult, though. I had to stretch far to call and catch Erynn... and then of course to only have him slip away. It's too much of a strain to cage a Poet of his standing with my mind while I dwell inside Nul. I still have to recover from the transition, to grow used to my new home. I wonder if I'll simply have to learn to live on my own for now, instead of holding out for more company...

I don't know when my Lady Thelea will return. I ask my King of her health and well-being from time to time, but he refuses to tell me when she might visit again. I miss her. Ten years I've been at her side, her prized servant, her lover. I would do anything for her, anything, and something in my chest aches when I think of her now. I've never been apart from her this long before, and I fear it's wearing on me just as much as Nul itself is.

I'm afraid to ask my King to make me forget the pain. Something about the request makes me cry caution. Sometimes when he erases the pain, other things are erased...

And I would never want to lose my feelings for my Lady Thelea. Never.

My mind recedes into the black for a time... the black and numb cold that I always forget afterward. I suppose this is rest, or sleep. It's almost not something I do willingly... sometimes that cold shadow just takes me, and then suddenly it is later, and time has passed.

Time passes.

I wake a little dreary, as if there's a fog in my mind, as if the shadows have seeped down into it instead of just wrapping around it securely. Either the feeling passes or I get used to it, because after a few moments my King tells me that I'm fine, and then I am. I don't remember quite what was wrong before, and of course I don't need to. I just need to attack. Attack that impostor Jhe h'Logos and make him pay for his mockery and deceit. Bring him down, grind him to the floor, make him kneel and abdicate.

Then everything will be fine, and maybe I will even see my Lady Thelea again.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

I just have to keep writing. While I'm alone, while I'm in here. I have to keep writing before it all goes black.

Why am I so sure that will happen? It's like something riding my heels, chasing me, nagging me incessantly. I've read many an account of Armed recording how they felt when their Arms awakened, and I suppose it might be like this... but I don't feel any strength, I just hear my doom. Our doom. It's coming, if I don't move my quill fast enough. If I don't slap enough ink down in pleasing arcs and dashes and marks, then we're all going to die.

It hurts so much to do anything else. The guilt stings me the most, but there's also that dread every time I leave my study, every time I'm away from the quill. I have so many other things I have to do besides this. How did I end up with so many responsibilities? How did there end up being so many things to do in a day? When I had to write it all out to save us before, I didn't have to do all this stuff. I was just the Song. That was enough.

But obviously it isn't enough anymore. I can't just exist and save everything by being here. I'm not good enough. Not worth enough. Theos would pinch out my existence for the least little crime by this point. I'm worth less than nothing. No one wants me anymore. Those that were with me once are leaving or making other allegiances. 'Sy's abandoned me out of spite for what I've become, Elete died because of what I couldn't be, Rahellene is leaving and Stevane's found someone else to tend. It's nice that she still comes to talk to me, but I know she's pandering. Katherine, bless her, is the only reason I still have an Empire. My position as Jhe o'Radia has amounted to that much.

I really am pathetic, aren't I? A pathetic wretch. But the one thing I can do is write, and it's what I have to do, because I owe them all so much. I have to make reparations. I have to do what I can, even though it's not enough, it'll never be enough, and I know this won't work.

No, no, no, no, no, I have to make this work. But it won't. No, it can't fail! I can't fail! But I will. It's just what I am, after all - a failure, a cheap replacement for Jhe h'Logos. Elete was so much better at this. He'd obviously made the Crown his own. Why'd I have to take it back?

Why am I such a fool?

I thunk my head down on the desk. I think for a moment that the sound echoes, but in fact someone is knocking on my office door. Odd. I tend to detect visitors before they need to knock. But I am a little busy right now. My head's not in the right place... or rather, my task is too important to allow myself to receive visitors right now. I open my mouth, preparing to echo the thought of it and dismiss whoever it is. They can wait. It's bad enough that I'm so incompetent - I can't let interruptions make our plight even worse.

"Jhe o'Radia? Please pardon my intrusion, but a matter requires your attention."

Jhe h'Logos. My shoulders slump. Of course he'd time the request before I could get the dismissal past my lips. We've a little less than six months left now - surely I have time enough for one conversation. The notion still passes through my mind, worrying at my thoughts, but with some effort I dismiss it instead of my Poet King. I rise. "Please, enter." It's not very well-kempt in here, but Jhe h'Logos has seen worse, considering he teaches so many Poets.

Jhe h'Logos bows as soon as he closes the door behind him. As always, it's strange to look upon him, and also just a bit painful. No... more painful than ever, but I'm not sure why. Maybe my failures feel especially poignant now, and so it's easier to think of Elete's death right now. Maybe it's seeing the circlet on his brow instead of the crown on my head. The crown I don't want, but I have to keep. It'd kill him.

His eyes widen when he looks up at me, but he says nothing. I remind myself to stay composed. I must look like as much of a wreck as I feel. "You have business, Jhe h'Logos?"

He laughs, the sound a bit uncomfortable and mirthless. "It's strange to hear you say that, your majesty, while looking at you with that crown. I'm still not used to the sight." He shakes his head. "Forgive me, I'm a bit easily distracted. I had to have a nap this morning - I was a fool and skipped sleeping last night."

"Some things just don't change, I see."

He shrugs. "So it seems! I've resolved to take better care of myself. The first step is admitting you have a problem, yes?"

That was a rhetorical question, I'm sure. "Good to hear. Your business, Jhe h'Logos?"

He waves his hand. "Forgive me, I do seem to stray. Jhe Stevane had a breakthrough with Ebrelle today, and well... I'm aware of your standing with him, and his with you. I'm also aware that you've just this morning had a very high-pressure meeting-- your majesty?" He breaks off his question, then steps closer, and then he's got my arm. I realize it's a good thing, too. I was about to tip over.

I'm about to stammer out an apology, or more likely an excuse, when he just shakes his head. "You simply must have a seat. There's no reason for you to rise in my presence. Quite the opposite, yes? Here now--"

I miss the next few words he speaks, and just nod to pretend that I hear them. Everything's a bit blurry... and then it isn't, and I hear again. I blink.

I'm in my chair again. He's fanning a paper in my face in an attempt to rouse me. Once he notices that I'm back to my senses, he lowers the paper. I recognize it as one of my writings. "I... please, Jhe h'Logos, I know you're concerned for me but I have to keep the pages in order!" I snatch it back from him, then scan over it to get a sense of where it belongs in this mess of an office where more papers coat every flat surface.

Jhe h'Logos gives me a look that's not quite concern, but isn't suspicion either. I can't exactly place it, but for some reason I feel as if I'm in trouble. If I didn't have him to focus on, I'd be overridden with guilt from it. He looks at one of the nearby papers. I feel a spike of panic. I don't want anybody to read these! Not yet, not before I'm done... and I'm so far from being done!

He walks to the other side of the office, looking down at another pile of papers from the batch. His eyebrow tilts up, a polite yet interrogative hook. "You've been busy. How much ink have you used?"

"By now? Gallons, surely. Jhe h'Logos, I must ask you to--"

"Where are the bottles?" He cuts through my words.

I'm pretty annoyed at being interrupted. He may be a King, but I'm the only Emperor in the room. I'm about to reprimand him, but then the question nags at me for a moment. I realize that I don't have an immediate answer. And wondering about that is strange, because well... why would anyone care? I've obviously used a lot of ink, why does Jhe h'Logos need it quantified?

Now he's got that look on his face again. That sort of inquisitive pity that makes me wonder what I've done. "Jhe o'Radia..." He sighs. "The paper in your hand. I didn't think it was part of your work, and I apologize."

I'm even more thrown off by the unexpected apology. "Well, it's good that you understand my ire. I didn't mean to react in the manner that I did, but this is all very important work, Jhe h'Logos."

His expression gets sadder, and my chest wrenches. Even worse, though, I'm starting to feel that frenzy. Enough scrutiny! Back to work! He shakes his head. "I apologize. I should have come to talk to you much sooner. I understood that you were avoiding me, perhaps to let me gain my own feet in my new role. You always did give Elete his own room to grow, but that means that I should have known even moreso not to let a rift develop. I should have also taken charge more as Jhe h'Logos instead of staying so quiet. I've been remiss in my duties, and so I take responsibility for what you're about to discover. Please look at the paper in your hand, Jhe o'Radia."

I give him a look of such scrutiny that he flinches, but he doesn't back down. I find I've little to do but accede to his request. Now I'm wondering what he's on about. I raise the paper and peer at it. Same handwriting as usual, a bit frenzied and even smudged in a few places. I inwardly curse. Sloppy work could be the undoing of us all. "Yes, and?"

He takes a deep breath, composing himself. "Read the words. To yourself, if you'd prefer. I don't need to hear them."

That's a strange request. I know what's on this sheet, after all, wrote it myself, indexed it and sorted it and even edited it a bit after some later work. I practically have it all memorized, but I humor Jhe h'Logos. I read it methodically from the beginning, word by word.

I'm at the middle of the page before I know it. Odd, I tend to fit more on a page than...

Wait.

The room starts to spin. The guilt's not pressing in anymore, but there's worry. Alarm at being caught. I feel... naked. But it's confusing, most of all. I swear... I swear I wrote it. I still remember the feel of the quill twitching between my fingers, the scratch of the nib over the parchment. It all happened, I know it did. Why else would I have spent most of the last two months inside my office? I was writing, I know I was.

But the page is blank. I hazard a glance up, then see a few stray sheets next to me. They're also blank. The piles of paper all around... they're all blank.

I feel sick. Jhe h'Logos helps me out of my office. I make my own way to the privy. My stomach can lodge its complaints in private.

It's several minutes before I can emerge again. I feel Jhe h'Logos prod at my mind as I wash up. Checking to ensure I'm alright. It's understandable. Every page in that room is blank. He knows what a madman I've been all this time.

But Rahellene saw all the work! 'Sy never said anything about the blank pages, either! Stevane surely would have said something!

"You cast a strong glamour in there, Jhe o'Radia." He bows to me again as I come back into the room. "Had I not had the paper in my hand, I might not have seen through it myself."

I find a seat and then take a suitable posture from which to bury my face in my palms. I'm a mess. I'm an utter, complete mess. To boot, I'm also insane.

"It's always a little strange when we show our eccentricities, isn't it?" I look up, taken off guard by the lightness in Jhe h'Logos's tone. His back is to me, hands clasped behind his back. He's looking at my office decor. It's strange to see his hair so long, so much more like his brother's. And Val's too, come to think. But not Eistinn's. That boy's got hair like my sons have. That's right, so curly-headed, like Jax and Edward--

Jhe h'Logos steadies me, his hand on my shoulder again. I didn't see him walk up to me. It's as if he teleported. No... no, I think I lost some time, there.

And I feel something. Fear, but not mine.

How could you be wearing the Crown? Why would you wear the crown? The voice is far off, and it's half malice, half horror. It's my son.

Edward.

Jhe h'Logos is the one who's smart enough to take the crown off of my head. Once I'm free of it, I feel clearer than I've felt in months. Then pure panic stabs me once I realize I'm not wearing it anymore. My overtaxed mind decides that the most reasonable solution is obviously to black out.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Looking up at the night sky gives me a crick in my dream-self's neck after a while. Besides, long periods of contemplation in dreams aren't all that satisfying because I tend to forget most of what I think during them. Sort of like taking one step in a dream-journey and then in the next two steps I'm at my destination. The same sort of rule applies to making Gates out of Poetry, come to think of it. Anyway, I'm sure I had lots of brilliant ideas and revelations from looking at the complex relationships and divisions between all the constellations in my dream sky. My subconscious will surely burp them up for me sometime when I'm awake.

Right now, though, I could use dreamtime to do something. I've been laying low for a bit to make sure Edward finds something else to ruin instead of camping around and waiting to catch me again. It feels like enough time's passed for that to happen, though dreamtime's passing is a bit harder to judge. Hopefully the turning of my fantasy stars was somewhat accurate. Time to try and see, then. Time to go drop in on the real Jhe h'Logos.

He's remarkably easy to find, and it seems he's listening for visitors. Jhe h'Logos?

I get the sense that he jumps. Oh, Jhe Blackirons. I apologize - I did not expect you at this moment... ah, but apparently you're about to tell me something that explains quite a bit for me. His confusion clears up as he speaks - must be his future self giving his present self a few tips. I get premonitions and hunches, but hardly anything close to what Jhe h'Logos can do with his different selves in different times. Heck, I think he's better at it now than he used to be as the other Jhe h'Logos.

Still. I'm glad to hear that. I have no idea how what I'm about to say could explain anything, because all it does is confuse me the more I think about it. I suppose I'll just drop the whole of it on you, then, since it's what's called for now?

Please, Jhe Blackirons. And quickly.

I explain to him what Edward just did in my dream, and what Edward said about Jhe h'Logos. Being in a dream right now makes the explanation quicker, and speaking mind-to-mind means I can lend emotional impressions and visual recollections much more quickly than in writing. It means that I can't much perceive where Jhe h'Logos is now, though. In the Poet Hall it's a different story, but other places aren't as specifically built for mental travel. Additionally, it seems he's in a place that the wards won't allow me all the way into. No worries. I've no reason to stick around for much longer.

Ah. Yes, that does help immensely, Jhe Blackirons. You have my gratitude for reporting this.

Usually that would be the end of it and I'd dismiss myself, but something's nagging at me. My King, is there anything amiss? What my former teacher said doesn't make any sense, by my reckoning. To be frank, you sure seem mentally sound to me.

He laughs. That's not a compliment I hear often! In any case, there's a suitable explanation for Jhe Edward's actions. To make the story short, he's had a case of mistaken identity, and attacked someone else. I will brief you on it later, but for now stay on the alert for him. You're going to be one of the best Poets for doing so, especially considering your status as his former student. For now, you may be dismissed - no one's life is in danger now, but I have a bit of cleanup to attend to.

That's that, I suppose. I want to hang around and see exactly what he's up to, but it sounds like there's trouble enough already without me causing more of it. I take care traveling back to our camp, making sure not to be tracked and staying wary of traps. I'll find out what's been going on soon, I'm sure. Until then, a more peaceful nap is in order.

* * *
Edward
* * *

Why did he have it? Why was Father wearing the crown? Of all people, why him? He doesn't need to be ruler of anything else but Crux Radia, so... why be Jhe h'Logos? Maybe it's some sort of mistake. Maybe he was just holding it for a bit. I've been attacking the new Jhe h'Logos since the first one died. The new one that my King is so furious at for continuing to exist, for some reason. It's been... months, right? It's so hard to tell time within Nul's lands...

How long? How long has my Father been wearing it?

All this time. It hits me, hard and heavy. Father could have been the possessor all this time, and I'd have not known otherwise. It's hard to deny. His struggles just now were just as frantic as the ones of whomever I've been attacking all this time. I've been haunting the same mind, the same person. There couldn't have been a switch.

Why? Why would he wear that crown, especially after it killed Jhe h'Logos Elete? WHY?

He was so heartbroken about his failure. All that work that I made him do... all those inkless writings, that wasted time. Why would he do it at all, though? That's what I don't understand the most: that Father was taking on the role to begin with! He was hurt and exhausted and out of his mind from the stress of it all, but... what was he doing? Why would he let me do that to him?

I've never seen him like that, so confused, so pitiful, pulling at his own hair, pounding on the desk, sweating and swearing and most of all pleading with some unseen force for more time, more time, more time...

Was he pleading with me?

I can't take this. I can't understand what he's done. I don't know why he'd do this. Betray me... betray all my expectations... block my work by taking the brunt of it? How could he?

How could he do this to me?

* * *
Katherine
* * *

My days are pretty dull if I can't hunt somebody down to spend them with. To be honest, there's not a lot that anybody asks me to do - it's as if once 'Sy's gone, people forget that i'm around to assist them. So Jhe h'Logos's request is unexpected on several levels. That, combined with Jhe h'Logos's polite urgency, means that I respond lightning-fast.

Not to mention the fact that he summoned me to Daddy's chambers.

I'm halted by the wards before I can enter, and end up stuck outside his front door. What's going on? They've turned so thick and solid that I wonder if 'Sy could even get in. That doesn't happen unless there's direct danger to Daddy's life! I'd ask Jhe h'Logos what's going on, but it'd be quicker to just...

There.

The thing about being the Advocate is that you can get into a lot of places that most people can't. I walk through the door, taking care to make sure the wards reset once I'm inside. They won't repel me now, but I don't want anyone else getting in until I know what's going on. "Daddy?"

"He's in the study, Katherine. He's unconscious, but not in any further danger." I go into the study to find Jhe h'Logos standing next to Daddy, who's seated in one of his favorite chairs. Daddy's face... he must have been in shock over something.

I'm already leaning over him with my hand hovering over his forehead when I ask, "What happened here?" Daddy's mind is definitely strained and tired. He's got something dirty hanging on him, too. Some lingering aura, familiar yet oddly repugnant. Like fruit that's gone bad a day ago.

Jhe h'Logos sighs, the sound possibly sad but more resigned than anything else. "It seems that Jhe o'Radia's possession of the Crown came with a price. It was the vulnerability that Jhe Edward exploited to try and take my predecessor down. I was unaware that he was continuing to exploit it, and apparently your Father was also unaware."

I keep myself steady by propping one hand on the back of Daddy's chair. "Edward what?" Even as I question, I know it to be true. That's the aura on Daddy. It explains the tang of malice and filth left behind. I'd ask what he'd done, but that's what I imagine Jhe h'Logos called me here to find out. I move behind the chair so I can shift my weight more easily, leaning over the back to place my hands on Daddy's shoulders. I can feel the tension in them. "Keep a watch on me." It's all I say before I jump in. I'm used to 'Sy being around to anticipate my whims. If this new Jhe h'Logos claims to be as good of a Time Lord as Jhe Elete, he'll be able to do the same.

* * *

Daddy's mind is dark. That's not good. Daddy's not a dark person. His mind tends to be upbeat, full of light and lots of fast, quick turns. If it's any consolation, it looks to be a place that's been recently dimmed, as if the party's over and the bar's closed for the night. I see some wear and scuffs around the edges, but not enough that they can't just heal over time. He hasn't had that Crown for long, after all - the damage hasn't had a chance to accumulate.

Now, where in this place has he gone off to? I spot a trail on the floor, like a golden bit of thread that's gone dim. I follow it, hoping that I'm heading towards the end of it and not the beginning.

Daddy's not far. He hasn't receded too far below the surface of his consciousness yet. This is all good news. Elete was worse off than this when I first had to find the knots in his mind, all those years ago. Father was much, much worse after he'd been Judged. Daddy hasn't had long to get hurt from this. He's strong, and he doesn't have a death wish. It'll be okay. I keep telling myself these things.

Still, it hurts to see him hunched in the corner, face buried under his arms, shaking. "Daddy? Don't be afraid. I'm real." I don't know what Edward's been doing to him until now, what he might have filled his head with. I just know it's very dark in here, and Edward always exploits the shadows to his best advantage.

He stops shivering, but I think it's out of the feeling that he's just been caught. He doesn't tell me to go away, though. He doesn't lash out. He just stays still. The worst thing he's feeling right now is fear, and there's quite a lot of it.

I take a special moment to pause and curse Edward. Of course Daddy's plagued by fear. It's always been Edward's favorite tool.

Approaching Daddy might not be wise just yet. I could do a lot of good from here by just...

The shadows recede as light slowly fills his mind, a gradual dawn. It does more to ease his fears than words could. I can't bring it up to be as bright as it should be - something's holding him back. Still, it means I can approach him now with the faith that he'll face me.

I kneel beside him, then after a pause to gauge whether it's the best of ideas, I put my hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is, it can't be so bad that we can't fix it together."

He shudders again, just a little. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it right again. I'm going to have to go out there and everyone will know that I let it all fall apart."

I hiss through my teeth. He's not just rambling about something Edward's put into his head. Some of what he said was based on preexisting, valid concerns. But of course, it's much easier to build fears on top of other fears, and weave it all together. Edward taught me that himself when I had my lessons from him in the Poet Hall. He was an early expert in the field.

"You can put anything back together. We'll all help you. We won't blame you." I measure the words out in my mind before I speak them, to check the truth of them. They're not lies - but I know they would be for different definitions of 'we'. I'll just have to be careful in picking who to help him.

"None of you can change the fact that I gave up the crown when I shouldn't have. This would never have happened."

I scowl. "Elete would have died ten years ago if you hadn't given the Crown to him when you did. Sometimes it was all that he could live for. What good is it to anyone for you to wear it now, anyway?"

He stops his reply before it finds its way out of his mouth, which hangs open a moment before he remembers to close it. A light wells up in his eyes, and I swear the surroundings in here get a bit brighter as well. "What good is it..." He looks past me, weighing that as if he'd never considered it. I realize that he must have taken it for granted all this time that he had to wear it. "I'm supposed to wear it. I let Elete take the responsibility of the Song so that he'd go on living, but no one else is here to do it now."

I think there's a rather obvious candidate, but I'm not sure if this is the best place to have this discussion. "Are you ready to wake up?"

He's reluctant to give assent, but he nods. Then, before I can make a move, he wraps me up in a hug. "Come here. You're my daughter and I love you and you make me proud."

I let that moment linger a little before I pull us both back up into the waking world. It's warm, and nice.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Awareness slides into me, the feeling echoing strangely as if, at the same time far distant, someone else is opening his own eyes after a far more distressing nap than mine.

We Poets get used to these weird bits of deja vu, premonition and happenstance. As Jhe h'Logos (both of them) always said, they make for great story fuel. Just as that person far away (Jhe o'Radia? Really?) is nudged awake by someone leaning over him, I too am nudged awake by someone leaning over me.

Huh. Did Gerude go blonde or somethin--

I sit bolt upright as that little scoundrel Lyric raises a finger to his lips. After a moment he shifts back, edging away from me. It's a little weird to see the shock on his face - I must look like I'm about to strike him. Well, I kinda am. What's a little traitor like him doing skulking around while I sleep?

He motions out the mouth of the cave we're in, towards some sagebrush over a little sand hill - away from and out of sight of the camp. Oh, of course. He wants to talk somewhere alone and kidnappable-from. How subtle. This, after waking up from being stalked by Edward. Probably working in tandem, the two of them.

But no, that doesn't sound right, somehow. I wonder if my hunch to follow him is something else I can blame on Edward, or some of Lyric's own trickery. It's a strange thing to be genuine. But then again, I think I'll be safe. I can certainly take him in a fight.

I place a pebble on Gerude's shoulder, careful not to wake him just yet. Then I nod to Lyric and follow him out of the cave and over the sands, keeping my eyes wide open at every turn, paying attention to my peripherals.

When we're far enough from the cave that my traveling companions won't hear him, Lyric speaks. "I can't explain a lot to you. You can figure out if what I say is true on your own. You're smart, you pay attention. You might even have picked this detail up without me telling you, but I can't take risks with family. You understand."

I wait for whatever he's trying to hunt down to actually show up and get talked about. I certainly believe he's a Poet because he gets to the point as fast as the rest of us do.

"Don't sleep in any of the caves past this point. They're not safe. Daddy might know a little bit about it but I know he can't know the half of it. So get what you want to get done in Robinstead, but stay away from the caves unless you want to bring along an army next time you poke into one."

I cross my arms. "And who can I thank for this little bit of information?" It sounds valid enough, I'll give him that.

"You have it on behalf of Thelea Xaillyndesse, but not with her knowledge. I'd prefer you didn't tell anyone I told you. My operations are all well and good, not liable to hurt anyone at all, really... unless they decide to bunk in certain places. Then things get messy. It's just reality in this place. You'll hear the stories when you get to Robinstead." He shrugs. "In fact you probably heard them back when you grew up there. This land's been part of a certain project for awhile, it seems."

I decide to cut through the bullshit instead of laying on the subtlety. We each know where the other's coming from. "What side are you on, Lyric?"

He shrugs. "Maybe someone else could answer. I just do my job, just like I did for the Peacock King. Things turned out well from that, didn't they?" He cocks his head. "Have you heard much from Ebrellin-i? How does he fare?"

I can feel the prod for information, just as weaselly as his answer. "He tripped the other day. Poor bloke's so tall that the fall struck him dead, and then a tree grew out of his brains."

Speaking of trees, Lyric turns a bit green. "I'll be going now. Please stay away from the caves."

And before I can tell him that I'm not letting him go, he's gone, just like a dream. Like those stories about Cade vanishing in thin air, come to think of it. I stare at the spot he was standing in for a long time, and then I return to the camp, walking backwards and never letting the surrounding hills out of my sight. An ambush could be anywhere, but I don't sense anyone nearby.

He must be feeling guilty. He snuck away from whatever operation he was part of, then came and warned us. But that means he was able to find us, and knows where we are. Damnit...

I duck into the cave, then find my way into my sleeping bag again. I flick the pebble off of Gerude. If things had gone bad, I'd have made it heavier to give him a nudge and wake him up. Looks like I didn't need to poke him.

I lay down and don't sleep at all.

* * *
Myles
* * *

I wait for Lyric to come back. This mission has been a lot of waiting, really. Waiting for Jhe h'Akribastes's posse to ride ahead of me, waiting for Lyric to get here, and now this. I'm a patient man - lucky that it's the case, or I might be in the wrong line of work. Of course, Lute did warn me that spying wasn't as exciting as Iaen always made it sound, and that for the most part it was dull stuff that no one would ever bother writing down (except to annoy Katherine with the paperwork of it all).

Lyric takes his time. I'd worry, but I won't. He can handle himself, and if he can't, it means his Father's caught him, and the Judge is no one Lyric needs to fear. The only risk here is that he blows his cover and suddenly Erynn and Gerude know he's on the up-and-up. Erynn's a bit chatty and so that makes it a bit of a danger, and the less people to know of a double-agent the better. Or just plain agents, for that matter. It's hard to keep secrets from everyone all at once. Especially when you're close to anyone who's a Poet.

Exhausting, in fact.

When Lyric makes his way back I'm relieved, which surprises me. Did I really think the odds would be that low? No, I've just been out here alone for quite awhile, and Lyric makes for good company. I wave with a grin. "Family reunion worked out?"

Lyric looks askance, his face showing his displeasure. "'Rude's a heavy sleeper, thank the stars. Daddy wasn't awake, though, so I had to tell Erynn. I'm pretty sure he's still fooled, but it's so weird to hide things so openly to someone who's like family to me."

That hits close to home, but I hide it. "You think they'll be wary of the caves, then?"

"Time will tell if they stay away from them, but if they go in they'll do it with guns drawn." Lyric shudders. "I don't want anyone going into those again, ever. I mean, I know that's just a dream, and that the things in those caves aren't gonna stay in there forever, and somebody's gotta fix em sometime, but..." He wipes sweat away from his eyes. "Hey, why couldn't you tell them about it? You're my liaison, right?"

I shrug. "I've got my orders." And that's all I say. He looks disgruntled over it, but one thing I like about Lyric is that he can't hold a grudge for long without getting distracted.

"Yeah, well... you know what I know now. Not that it was much to begin with. I was really supposed to just come down here and get the lay of the land for Thelea. I'm still not sure what else there is to report on other than caves full of the walking dead. Crawling. Trickling. Whatever." He wraps his arms around himself and shudders again.

I just mull it over. I already had some hunches about those caves, and so did Jhe h'Akribastes, really. There was intelligence from Stevane and other sources that lead to the conclusion Lyric just summed up. Really, I don't think the Judge would have even gone near caves any closer to Robinstead than the one he's in now.

I let Lyric go and warn them just to see if he would.

Trust is a weird thing. You can know you're supposed to trust a person, and be aware of many details that add up to that fact, and be told by someone you trust implicitly that you should also trust a certain person. But real trust is earned. Lyric's working his way there, at least. Today was a big step. "Time to find out if that's the only thing of interest around here, then." Lyric raises his eyebrows and I smile in reply. "I'm your liaison, aren't I? Time to liaise. I did a bunch of searching around here before you even made it into the desert, so we just need to complete the job." I start walking, and Lyric huffs and puffs behind me.

Twitchy corpse bodies aren't the only things Nul's hidden in this desert. Time to find the rest of it.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

While the two of those are out for awhile in my Emperor's head, I examine the crown that's been encircling it for the last two months. A crown that, I do admit, I have really wanted to have for myself. Legitimacy is slow for a person to establish and even slower for that person to notice it's there. The Crown solves so many problems - no need to establish what's plain to see, right on my head. It's so very simple.

And, well, Elete spent the last decade with it welded to his poor head, practically. I'd say he had a psychological dependency, but it was even deeper than that - without the Crown, he didn't have a reason to make himself go on living. It was his life in so many ways.

It is not mine. The pang of longing I feel in response is matched by an even deeper pang of guilt that I even feel it. I don't deserve this crown. I haven't earned it, and it belongs to Jhe o'Radia. I merely took it from him to keep it from hurting him any further.

That, in fact, would be the reason I haven't put it on yet while no one is looking. Just for a second, even. Just to feel the familiar weight on my head, like Elete did. It gives one this constant feeling of presence, of being all together in one place, yet also in so many places at once. So connected with the Poets, even beyond the role of Jhe h'Logos. So wonderful and joyful and most of all so very certain. No one's contested me as Poet King besides apparently Edward, but I keep wondering if at any point in my day someone will pause for a moment, turn to me, and ask me just what it is I think I'm doing, walking about as if I own the Poet Hall.

Most of all, I keep fearing that person will be 'Sy. The weight of the crown would be so wonderful. He won't take me seriously now like he took Elete, but perhaps with the Crown...

No. It can't work like that. I can't have it. For some reason I know that, some base instinct. Just as Elete knew he had to wear it for the rest of his life, once he accepted its mantle of responsibility. It's a subtle knowing, a secret confidence that calms my nerves. I'm not used to them jangling so, and over something so silly as possessiveness. What could I ever need or want now? I'm a King, and people love me. What could I want? Other than the love of just one person, a person who has a particular disdain for figures of authority?

No, I don't want it. I lower the Crown to the table.

But I don't let it go, because that would be just as foolish as wearing it. This thing is dangerous. It certainly calls to me enough to be a dangerous thing. I'm almost surprised I was so tempted, but this would be the one thing that would tempt me so. Why is it so insidious? Has it always been like this? Has it always been so... harmful? There's a certain malice to it now. A taint. Is this Edward's work? It doesn't feel as if it could just be done by him, perhaps Nul--

"AUGH." I jump, almost dropping the thing. Jhe o'Radia sits up from his slumped posture, a grimace twisting his face. "My neck!"

From behind him, Katherine massages her own neck. "I'll help you with that in just a second, got my own to-- ahhh. That's better." She reaches down over the back of the chair and holds her fingers to the base of Jhe o'Radia's skull.

His expression immediately shifts to that of relief. "Thank you. You're my favorite eldest daughter, do you know that?"

Katherine just looks relieved to have her other Father back.

I share that relief, and then a part of me is tickled by the fact that Jhe o'Radia is technically my Father as well. He and Elete never shared a close relationship over it, but still, his blood is in my veins as much as Thelea Xaillyndesse's is. I guess I have a right to share some happiness of that sort.

But there's no time to really dwell on that, is there? As Jhe o'Radia composes himself, my fingers tense around the Crown. I'm not sure how to tell him what I need to tell him. A Poet King grasping for words? How shameful. But I don't have much authority to behind my hunches, and I'd really prefer not to be laughed out of his office.

No one else is here to tell him, though, so it must be me. At least he doesn't look the worse for wear.

Katherine looks up at me, that relief so prominent in her eyes. "There wasn't much damage. He didn't need to be cleaned much. Edward's work was subtle, but it wasn't as brutal as it could have been." She pats Jhe o'Radia's shoulder. "You'll be fine with some coffee and some socializing. You've been locking yourself away from people, and that's done more damage to an extrovert like you than Edward simply attacking could have."

He nods, obviously preoccupied by something, but taking her advice to heart. "I did miss people. I just thought that I was doing the right thing. It's funny, too - I can't remember what exactly I was trying to do. Write it all better, I suppose." He laughs. "Poetry doesn't work quite so easily, does it, Jhe h'Logos?"

I start to attention. I wasn't expecting to hear my title. "If only it would, your highness."

"I go by many names - Luciprochoros is the best one, but it's a mouthful. Please just call me Luci. Please don't demurr out of using it. My leave is enough for you to overcome the compulsion. I'm the Emperor and you're not." He says it all so matter-of-fact, topped off with a cheerful grin that only has a touch of severity to it. "You and I get too stuffy about things with each other, or at least we did. Elete and I. Two of one, a pair of the other, in that regard at least." He sighs. "You're not the same. You're not equal."

I bite my lip. I'm unsure of where this is going, and my future self didn't feel the need to give me any pointers on it, so I'm unsettled. I know I can't quite live up to Elete but--

"You're a bit better, in fact, and I think you'll be doing a lot of work for me, so we ought to start off a bit less dysfunctionally, right?"

I almost drop the Crown. Katherine looks at me. The little grin on her face is my prompt to close my mouth. It's hanging wide open. "I am afraid I have arrived at a loss of words, Jhe-- Luci."

He nods affably. He points at the Crown. "Oh, yes. I find that thing tends to have just that effect. I've wondered about that, since gaining quite a chunk of clarity after you kindly pulled it off of my head. Do you know if Elete would have agreed with my estimation of its effect? He could be quite a talker, you know."

I consider the question, and then consider the fact that I am holding the thing. The thing which has given our Emperor so much trouble in thinking over the past two months. "It has a dark nature about it now. I am unsure of the origin of that darkness. Elete didn't perceive such a thing, but..." I sigh. "He was slowly being tainted by Nul itself. For all I know, that's where the problem arose. It's quite an interesting subject, but I'm more concerned with what to do with it now, your h-- Jhe Luci. To be quite honest, I'm only holding it now because I'm afraid of what it might do unattended."

Katherine frowns. "Does it need to be sealed? What would that do, though? Perhaps it should be cleansed?" She looks at her Father. "Can it?"

He laughs. "You act as if I was there when it was made. It was long ago, and I was unconscious at the time, possibly in a worse state than what Edward left me in, though not nearly as dark of one. Rhia-- well, we can't ask her now, she's quite gone." Luci has trouble looking at his daughter for a second, and I feel the pang of pain from here. "'Sy was there, but he was occupied with holding me together. Tia made it. But the person who is nearest us, and would have the most coherent recollection, would be Valtoryeh. He helped find me in my own mind, much like you did just now. He saw the Crown be created. I think his input would be best." He looks up at me. "It was created to put me in order as the Song. I was burning out, mixed up in my own head, like a score mixed out of order, unable to be played correctly. I thought that it would keep Elete in order when he started to fall apart, and felt that by that point, I could keep myself together. But with everything falling apart since I gave it to him, albeit rather slowly, I fear that I've allowed the Song to warp into something it's not meant to be. I--" His voice breaks. "I am unsure of how to correct it, Jhe h'Logos."

"It can be just Alestere. A name lonely from disuse for so many years." I consider. "I came to you for a completely different reason, but I suppose it was fortuitous. We do need to work together. And I am unsure of this thing's purpose now, and what must be done with it, and who must care for it until the job is done." The Crown gleams in my hands. I have lost my appetite for wearing it by now, but remain unsure of whether it truly has malice to it.

"I would prefer for that person to be you. Katherine has a talent in sealing, if it seems that must be the temporary measure." He shudders. "But... that thing has been the constant in the Song for years upon years now, and I fear for the disarray that might happen if it is locked away."

Katherine's mouth twists to the side. "I don't know if it's been keeping things all that straight. Did Elete die because of Nul, or because he was wearing that thing? What if it's been screwing up the Song the whole time? Things have been kind of screwed up for longer than when Elete wore it, you know." She ruffles her Father's hair. "Maybe it's been a long time in coming, you taking that thing off."

Luci laughs. "You just don't like crowns, dear."

Hm. "Jhe Valtoryeh would be the one to consult on its origins. If not Lady Tia herself..." I consider it. "No, it will be Jhe Valtoryeh. He'll be happy we asked him. It will lend him its own sort of clarity, as apparently..." I blink. The two of them are staring at me. "Oh, I apologize. It's a bit rude of me to just read off the future as if it's right there in front of you. I suppose we should be off causing it to happen instead?"

Katherine coughs behind her hand, hiding a laugh. Luci rests his face in his palm, chuckling. "It took Elete years to make his first apology for that. You learn fast."

* * *
Val
* * *

The secret of my relationship with Eistinn is that he never stops talking. I am always listening. I am not-as-often paying attention to whatever he is saying, but hearing him talk cheers me up, and talking to someone does the same for him. Without the background chatter, things are far too quiet. Besides, I'm used to the ebb and flow of his thoughts running across mine, and I know the rhythm. This is almost the same, except that the thoughts are separate. I'm starting to grow comfortable with that again, but my own head is a strange, empty place to live in now. If I stay in it long enough to dwell, it starts to echo with the voices of those long lost in the past, and lost to me.

Eistinn's never-silent voice thankfully drowns them out. Except, it's not, now. There's a voice that's persistent, growing louder, unwilling to slip under the waters. Instead it grabs for my attention--

--toryeh? Might we have the pleasure of your company? Eistinn is welcome to come along.

I blink. Alestere? So soon after Ebrelle's treatment - I wonder if it's related? Who is the 'we' that desires my company? Jhe o'Radia? Really? And the Advocate?

The past's echoes ring a little louder, but Eistinn, as always, persists in letting his mouth run before him. I decide to start looking for where I might slide a word in edgewise. It seems I'm to be of more use to others today than ever expected.

* * *

When I say Eistinn lends me a certain stability, I usually mean in an emotional way. I don't mean that I have to physically grab him when my balance is knocked from me after laying eyes on something I haven't seen in more years than I want to count. But the latter has just become true.

The crown gleams from inside of Alestere's grip, his thin fingers pale bars against the gold and silver. He's wearing robes, of course - blue robes, his signature color. The color strikes me, but not as much as the crown. I recognize it. It's from the memories I have from Chethar - memories that are clear, the memories of just one person with a lonely mind. Memories that are dusty, but all too recoverable. Blue, and gold, and silver, but most importantly blue, and Alestere's face. It struck me as strange before, seeing him grown up, but I thought it was simply because I remembered him as a thirteen-year-old stabbing victim, not as a grown man. No, what really struck me as strange is that... I should have recognized him.

"The Blue Lord," I say. "Now I know why you call yourself the Time Lord in this age."

He cocks his head, that polite smile still perched on his lips, unsure of just what to make of my words. The recognition is washing over me still. A centuries-old mystery, solved, and it ends up the Blue Lord's my younger brother through another life entirely and--

"Oy! Val! You can just ask for a seat, you know!" Eistinn manages to tip me towards a couch before I end up on the floor. Balance is hard to come by when the years knock your legs from right under you. I can't even entirely be sure of when I am now. Did the Most High dismiss us only yesterday? Are we still being hunted by the Archo? Rhia, where is she - the children? Arik? No, 'Sy now... Eistinn? Who is Eistinn--

Cool hands, one pressed to either temple. "Calm, now," she says. Katherine's voice washes over me, as does clarity. I'm Valtoryeh now, not Vailem. I haven't been Vailem for years. I'll never be Vailem again. Rhia is dead, my children are gone, and Eistinn is my link to the world. Alestere is my brother.

Alestere is the Blue Lord.

I look up at the four of them. Their faces are patient. I can explain what I know.

I sincerely hope that Alestere can explain the rest.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I feel I've been put on the spot; as soon as Jhe Valtoryeh stops talking, everyone looks at me.  All I can do is hold this silly crown that's already caused so much trouble and wonder what to say to them.  Jhe Luci looks especially expectant.

Oh goodness, they think I'll know what this is all about.  They'll find out I know nothing, and then none of them will take me seriously again.  Strange that I don't feel so nervous about it, then, even though I've no idea what to say.

Jhe Luci's hawkish expression breaks as he lets out a sudden chuckle.  "Stop staring at poor Alestere.  He's just as clueless as the rest of us.  And why shouldn't he be?"  He laughs, almost bending double with the mirth.  "If he'd been that far into the past and done all that in the two months since his rebirth, I'd imagine he'd have mentioned it sometime before now."  He keeps laughing.  Goodness, is it really that funny?

Katherine pats my shoulder, smiling.  "You're almost as high-strung as Jhe Val.  We don't expect you to solve everything, you know.  That would be unrealistic."  She sighs heavily.  "Much as it would be nice for someone to have all the answers for everything."

I squeeze her shoulder.  "It'll all be clear eventually, I'm sure."  I stand a little straighter.  "My future self hasn't seen fit to tell me when I ever flit off into the past to assist with the Crown, nor how or why it happens, but I do sense a faint admonition to not panic over that.  Sometimes Time happens in order, even for a Time Lord."  I look up at Jhe Valtoryeh.  "Or rather the Blue Lord, as you said?  I rather like the sound of that.  My brother is the Green Lord, Mother the White Lord, and Father... well, not mine, but Mother's husband who was Eistinn's Father, was the Red Lord.  Perhaps Blue concludes the spectrum?  Mother was always so secretive about it that I never could find any clear definition of what I was... just a deep resentment and scorn that I was anything but what she intended."

Jhe Luci looks up with me, his expression deepening into something sorrowful.  I almost look away, but remind myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of.  "Go on," he says.

"But I don't really know anything besides that.  As it is, much of what I've already said is conjecture."  I don't like to admit just how much of what Elete said in the past was so much fluff and made-up nothing pulled from the very air.  He just managed to say it with confidence, whereas I keep forgetting not to admit it's all nearly tripe.

We call that honesty, Jhe h'Logos.  An appreciated, admirable quality.  Katherine's gaze flicks over to me, but otherwise she doesn't acknowledge that bit of encouragement slipped between my ears.  Still, I hope she senses how grateful I am for it.

Of course, Jhe Luci laughs again.  "Well, you make it sound like it makes sense, so it's a start.  Katherine is right - it would be nice if someone had all the answers for us, but I've yet to meet that someone, so until then we'll have to just make it all up.  You're the Poet King, I'm the Song, and the rest of us in here are either Poets or know enough about what's going on that they could reliably pretend to be one in a pinch.  So let's solve a problem instead of waiting for the solution to fall into our laps."

Katherine sighs with relief.  "You know, it's so nice to hear someone wants me to get something done.  On that note, Eistinn, can you help me with the coffee and the tea?  I think we're going to be in here for awhile."

I start.  I remember why it is I came here in the first place, and feel chagrined.  Surely we'll address Ebrelle's matter soon, but until then I'd rather Stevane not be waiting for me to get back to her on a matter I told her would be settled as soon as possible.  I poke her mind gently to ensure I'm not interjecting my thoughts in the middle of a conversation, but it seems I'm in the clear - she is in fact waiting for results.

It shall be awhile, Jhe Stevane.  It seems we have a lot of matters to attend to for Jhe o'Radia.  I shall let you know as soon as I can, but...  I close my eyes for a moment, feeling out the future as I can see it, reaching for any hints my future selves may have passed backwards along to me.  It would likely be prudent to start drawing up plans for a laboratory no matter which way this discussion goes, so why don't you and Ebrelle--

Stevane interjects before I can get to the end of my admittedly rather winding statement.  He overheard you mention 'laboratory,' and now he's going on about something and I can't focus on you.  Don't fret about him, he'll keep himself busy now.  Let me know when Unkie says yes!  I know he will, I'm sure of it!  I can hear Ebrelle's mutterings on the other side of her thoughts.  Of course, I forgot that their link will make it easy for him to hear anything told to her, and vice-versa.  That was the point, really.

Well, it seems I don't have to worry on my brother's account.  I turn my attention back to our impromptu meeting.  Katherine and Eistinn have returned, the tea and coffee are well-supplied, and by the amount handy we'll be stocked for however long this all takes to work out.

* * *

Katherine bites her lip.  "Well, I can't blame Grandmother for having her little snits over it.  Still, is that really what she said about Blue Lords?"

Eistinn grins.  "Might've been the biggest snit I ever saw Mother get into, and believe me, she had her moments.  Yeah, she really only mentioned them that one time, but I'm sure she said it. 'Wily Blue Lords and their scheming, cheating ways.  Thanks be to the King that he always manages to sniff them out before they become any harm.  And the way the Lords follow the royal Xaillyndesse family line, it's certainly a possibility, but I'd be utterly scandalized if ever I had a Blue Lord come from my stock."

I laugh.  I laugh so hard that I cry, and a few drops of my tea manage to shake on the table.  I laugh so hard that Jhe Valtoryeh pats my back to make sure that I'm not choking.

Jhe Luci just smiles, a hint of smugness to his expression.

* * *

"I can't recall that a Green Lord's ever died."  Eistinn frowns, his fist digging into his cheek as he props his head up.  "That's been an important thing - that they not die.  Before there's another one, I mean."  He frowns, looking into nothing as he thinks through what he's picked up from so many years ago.  "But that's the same for any of em.  A Lord dies, another Lord rises.  There's always one of each... and only one, I think."  He bites his lip.  "I'm not sure.  There's got to be some overlap, right?  Only, it's really important that Green Lords not die early.  I think Mother was trying to get herself another Red Lord.  I'm pretty sure the puppet rulers have always been Red Lords, but she was getting desperate."

Jhe Luci frowns.  "Puppet rulers?"

Eistinn shrugs, playing it off as if it's insignificant, or just a normality.  "Yeah, the Kings who sit on the Throne of Lyiannethe.  We're bred to be the Jherent Nul's little sockpuppets.  White Lords control the Kings, or maybe just talk to the Jherent Nul, I'm not sure.  They're like handlers."  He says it so flippantly, and then I realize he's just trying not to be angry about it all.  Eistinn was the first Heir, after all.  It was only after he died that the role fell to Ebrelle.  "So it's really weird that the King was a Green Lord this time, but I think Mother's been killing off her options and had to work with what she had.  By Ebrelle's account, it seems that the Jherent Nul wasn't entirely pleased with having to use a Green Lord, and didn't at all like having to make do with what was available.  But Mother killed me off, so..." His vision unfocuses again, and doesn't focus again for almost a minute.  His brows slowly draw together as he thinks something through to his logical conclusion.

Then, he laughs.

"Heh.  I just now realized that logic makes me a Red Lord."  He chuckles, burying his hands into his hair and twisting the dark curly locks.  "Ohhh man.  That's kind of weird.  No wonder she always talked about this Lords stuff around me, but never answered my questions about Red Lords.  She controlled Father so strictly, it figures that she'd try to leash me with ignorance."

He holds up his hand, studying the fingers.  "I wonder how I'm gonna be a Red Lord?  No one's around to teach me how to blow stuff up.  As far as I know, that's all Father did."

He laughs again, a little sad, and none of us know what to tell him.

* * *

"Alright."  Katherine taps my parchment, where I've been writing all of the pertinent facts down. I've a diagram for our findings, and it's quite illuminating.  "Green Lord is pretty easy since Father took to the role pretty early and openly talked about being one.  Green Lords help things grow and stay alive.  They control vitality.  They're affected by the health of plants most specifically, but have power over animals as well."  She blinks.  "In fact, you might call them a kind of Animism.  The relationship is similar."

Jhe Luci goes stark white.  "I am relieved, then, that Diyn didn't Judge Ebrelle guilty."

We all pause for a moment, letting that sink in.  It's a sobering thought, and also a question I never want to see answered - just how many people, plants and animals would die if Ebrelle were killed premature to another Green Lord rising?  After it sinks in... well, it certainly adds another degree of urgency and importance to protecting him.  

"The Blue Lord," Katherine says, moving us along.  Jhe Valtoryeh nods.  I feel a bit self-conscious.  Jhe h'Logos is a role I was given, and sometimes worry I will lose.  The Blue Lord is something I cannot stop being, nor help being, and the anticipation of being defined so clearly by it is eerie.

Jhe Valtoryeh clears his throat.  "The Blue Lord has been intertwined with the Song since before we left Chethar, and was vital to the Song surviving being unbound from Emperor Theos.  So has the blue thread been that of all Blue Lords, or just the present one?  We can assume that there has always been a Blue Lord, however briefly they've managed to live before being culled off by the Xaillyndessen."

I think it over, but Jhe Luci has an answer before I give mine.  "It's... all Blue Lords.  Or you could say only one, since there is technically only one at a time.  The next Blue Lord will not awaken until the previous one's death, but the line is unbroken... if a bit tangled at certain points."  He winces.  "Especially recently, with our Blue Lord split into several pieces, and being actively warped by the Jherent Nul.  That was almost a coup.  We are very lucky 'Sy Judged Elete when he did.  To think of what would have happened to the Song had Nul fully corrupted the Blue Lord..."  He shudders.

I can't help but smile.  "So it is a good idea to Judge the Blue Lords, but not the Green ones.  Should I write that one down?"

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.  "Please, Alestere, don't encourage 'Sy."

Katherine laughs, but it sounds sad.

"Red Lords."  Jhe Valtoryeh turns to Eistinn, pride glinting in his eyes.  "I do remember Father being rather handy with detonations of all kinds."

Eistinn cocks his head.  "Hey, Val, maybe you're the Red Lord instead.  Or maybe we're both..."

Jhe Valtoryeh shakes his head, eyes closed, smiling in a content manner.  "All that I am is Valtoryeh.  An Archo, formerly of Chethar, and not of Xaillyndesse lineage, though certainly touched by the traditions of the family now.  I am no heir of Father's, and I prefer it that way."

"Every time you say 'Father,' I think of our time in Chethar and get confused."  Jhe Luci brushes his bangs out of his eyes as if brushing away memories from his mind.  "What we could call a Father was no Xaillyndesse."

Jhe Valtoryeh laughs, the sound a tad bitter.  "One did me just as good as the other, in the end.  In any case, the Red Lord?"  He's eager to move away from that subject.  But he doesn't look the worse for this conversation - in fact, he appears more focused and alert now than I've ever seen him before, as if his earlier realization pulled his sense of self in place.  Sometimes a bit of shock can undo the damage of all the previous shocks, like a sudden leap into icy waters.

Eistinn nods, eager to move from an uncomfortable spot in conversation.  "Seems like it's all about energy.  Not life, like it is with the Green Lord, but the energy life has to it.  And the energy of fire, or gunpowder igniting, all that.  Not the thought of it or the heart of it, just the power."  His eyes unfocus as he thinks that over.  "Yeah, that describes Father entirely, to be honest.  There uh, wasn't much heart to him."

Jhe Valtoryeh lets out a sarcastic chuckle.  "Father couldn't have a heart left after Mother got through with him.  The last few years of his life are a bit hard for me to remember from our perspective, but I have a feeling that he... wasn't truly alive during them."

Eistinn pales.  I myself pale.  "Mother... animated him?"  I realize that I'm asking the question, after having trouble identifying the voice at first.  I'm rather more disturbed about it than I expected.  "She is the White Lord, after all.  I shouldn't sound so surprised."  I blink.  "Still.  They were married.  Wedded Xaillyndessen die together."  I feel betrayed.  I never thought I would feel betrayed like this by Mother.  She's done enough to me, and to those I love, that I thought she could do nothing else to shock me or hurt me.  "The pain Elete went through to survive Ivae's passing and struggle onwards from that to live... it ripped him apart to have her in the Void and him without.  It took all he had in himself, and more from the Crown, to survive it..."  My eyes widen.  "The Crown.  He was being slowly eaten away at, and the Crown stopped it from happening.  Stopped him from following the natural progression of death.  'Sy even had him remove it before he executed... yes.  I wonder if... hm."

Everyone is staring at me as if I've been rambling in some other language, except Katherine, who has that patient 'waiting for him to turn the page' face on.

I wave my hand.  "I don't know where this is going.  But Elete was a Blue Lord and he overcame his wedding vows, so a White Lord would have a similar ability, I suppose.  What's more important is the Crown.  I am fairly sure Elete tainted it as it lent power to him to extend his life.  He did not mean to at all, and he could not help it, but Nul was ripping him open slowly with every breath he took.  It was unavoidable."  I sigh, then look down at it.  "So this thing is cursed.  But I suppose we fix that.  I wear it in my future when I... help create it, in the past.  Goodness, I think that confuses even me."

"I can't imagine why."  Jhe Luci massages his temples.  "I'm getting a headache, but I can't entirely blame that on your explanation making less sense than I'd like.  This is a lot of information to take in, and I'm not entirely sure what to do with it.  I think you can keep the Crown until we figure it all out.  You'll know what to look out for, and so far you look unaffected by it.  I've no idea how to clean it, though, unless Judging it does anything."  He snorts.  "'Sy would be rather gleeful to run Diyn through it, but I'm not sure if Diyn would agree to it unless it was on someone's head at the time."

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the Crown being Judged.  "You've never liked this thing, have you?"

"Never."  He grins at Katherine.  "I suppose it was hereditary."

She just scowls.  "It's not right to talk lightly of Judging, you know.  Besides, Judging doesn't cleanse, it destroys the flaws, leaving nothing whole behind... if it doesn't simply destroy the whole in the process.  It's why Father's taken so long to recover!  And you don't Judge inanimate objects!"  Fury glows in her eyes, gold on green.  Her glare is upon me now, and I wonder for a moment just where I transgressed.

The room goes silent.

Katherine breaks the silence with a huff of exasperation.  "None of you know what it means, fully, for something to be Judged.  You have all watched.  Jhe h'Logos, you've gotten rather glib about it yourself because of Elete, but he died, and that wasn't you.  You didn't survive his Judging!  So don't make jokes about it.  You don't know, and you never should."  Somewhere under that anger, she looks hurt, and even a little afraid.

Ah.  I see where I've been treading over a line, repeatedly, or perhaps even dancing upon it.  "I apologize."

"Don't even start!  Stop being such an idiot and try to live a long life this time.  I'm fed up with you dying?"

I bit my lip.  "I only did it once, dear."

"That was more than enough!"  Her eyes blaze.  She's beautiful like that, and I only feel a little bad for baiting her on purpose that last time.  "Why are you asking 'Sy to Judge anything, anyway?"  She crosses her arms.  Apparently there's something else at play here--

"Would you be willing to make a suggestion, Advocate?"

She closes her eyes, composure gliding over her like a new slip.  She opens them, and I'm greeted by a gaze that's gold and blue, and not green in any way.  It's then that I remember that the Advocate cannot help with anything unless she is asked to, and I understand the other part of Katherine's frustration.  She steps forward, then scrutinizes the headpiece in my hands.

She reaches out one finger to touch it.  Her gaze remains steady.  After a few moments, her mouth twists to the side.  "It's hiding something.  Once you find what it is hiding, the problem will be solved.  It's..." she blinks, then looks up at me.  "It will be your problem to fix, but don't worry about it until it's the time to.  The moment for you to act shall arrive exactly when it arrives, and no earlier.  Until then, put this aside and do not wear it.  Wearing it won't help you now."  Her eyes still glow gold and blue, and my mouth has gone so dry for some reason that I cannot find a reply in me.

"Thank you, Advocate."  Jhe o'Radia speaks for me, thankfully.  "Your assistance is always appreciated."

She snorts in return, the dignified gaze contrasting with the mannerism.  "No it's not, but it's nice of you to say."  She sighs, closes her eyes again, and then feels about ten feet shorter in comparison to me.  When she opens them again, they're green, and she is back to as normal as she ever gets.

Eistinn's eyes are wide, and he can't stop staring at Katherine.  I suppose to him that was very unexpected.  Whereas Jhe Valtoryeh...

It's hard to look at him now.  That would be because sometime during Katherine's reading of the Crown, he left.  I close my eyes and sigh.  I only know so much of his past entanglements with the previous Advocate, but I know enough to know that it must hurt to watch another.  After he tires of gawking at Katherine, Eistinn looks up and realizes that his twin is gone.  "Aww, crap.  He's got into one of his moods--"

"I'll go with you."  And then Katherine and Eistinn rush out without another word said, least of all to either I or Jhe Luci.

The latter looks chagrined, but not surprised.  Then he looks up at me.  "We've had a bit of a busy day already, and apparently you have an appointment for me with Ebrelle."

I blink.  I hadn't really had a chance to discuss anything about it yet, but...

"I'll see him tomorrow.  I think you'll agree that it's best he and I limit our visits with each other to a maximum of once every twenty-four hours.  Let him know that I'm not... angry with him."  He sighs.  "I've still to see off Rahellene today.  But you have literally taken a load off of my mind.  Whatever Ebrelle says, I can deal with."  He closes his eyes.  "I've a feeling I already know.  It's easier to feel it all out now, you know.  The Song.  Even if the Crown isn't as it should be yet, it's certainly better in your hands."

I smile.  "I am happy to be of service."  I bow.

He chuckles.  "You're happy to have something bigger and heavier than a circlet to eventually put on your head.  Don't bother to hide it.  Go on, move along.  I've got an Empire to run, you know, and I'm sure there's lots of mischief afoot in your Hall."

I smile.  "Indeed.  I'll see if I can add to it."

Here in the dark, I want to think of you,
but thought comes scarce in the dark.
They whisper and moan; they howl for me to
do them mercies. Always, they moan,
and I cannot think with the sound of them
here in the dark, my head full-- Think,
Sandalfas! Your brain still works, you remem-
ber? I am breached, bleeding, but my brain
still functions. I am a Poet. I write.
They are dead but their flesh functions.
Maerin cannot see them. She loses sight,
blade sharp as ever, but here, see?
I've thrust her into Jacob's mold-white eye,
a face I've known that now bites at
my        wrist
my        wrist
my        wrist is bleeding again and my rhyme
                                                                              lost.

I'll start again. Here in the dark,
they lurk like shadows.
They cry "Sandalfas!" again, "Hark,
Sandalfas! Answer!"
Their faces familiar, I know
them. Faces dead or
lost, but walking, hungry, they grow
hungry again and lunge.
Kiley not-Kiley begs "Poet!
Don't hate me for this!"
My blood in her teeth, I know it's
more than I can spare.
I bleed, I write, my Arm goes numb,
I must think of you.
I must think of you.

Here
in the
dark
        my hand
won't write straight.
They eat, they ate
the others.
They hunger, they hunger
and they eat but never sate
their hunger. I thrust, I stab
my blind Arm at them, but
they nibble and gnaw, and
I am losing pieces of myself.
I am losing pieces of myself.
One-eyed Jacob in the dark
begs "Sandalfas, only let me
taste you! Hark, Sandalfas,
brother! I am hungry!"

My        v i s i o n        greys.
My flesh leaks, I am pouring
into the stone, pouring
my words and my blood onto
these walls in hopes you
will read them, in hopes
you will never read them.
DO NOT COME HERE
        do not look
here in the dark, here
                I        have torn
his jaw and                 he bites
he bites
        he bites
they are        dead
they do not die!
Jacob not-Jacob rages, "S A N D A L F A S!
Look at what's been done to me,
Sandalfas!"
                        Look at what's been done to me.

Here in the dark, I calm myself.
I have lost Maerin in the dark,
and all is dark; I cannot see,
but I hear them. Kiley, sweet Kiley,
croons for me.        She croons
I yearn                  my fingers
        can't ccccontrol
the m sel ves

my blood flows slower now
        staunching.
if if if if if if
I can just find my way to
the mouth of the cave.
                 the cave
is full of hunger and
Jacob and KileY and
the others theY hunger
and
        by
all
        that
                is
        s t i L L
                good
in
        this
god-daMNed
                world

        I huNGEr too.

here                 in the dark
        i hunger too

Poem ©2011 Gabriel Gadfly. Used with permission (and no small amount of gratitude on our part for crafting this one for us!)

* * *
Lyric
* * *

I watch.  I watch Myles from behind a big, safe, sturdy rock.  I watch him hack into one of the walking corpses with that great big sword of his.  He runs one of them through with a plunging motion that I wouldn't think possible, but somehow yes, he does manage to completely skewer the once-person with that bastard sword.  He pulls back then, to draw the blade out.

Then a grimace passes over his face, a sawing sound cuts through the air, and he realizes the blade is stuck in the monster's ribcage.  Meanwhile, a growl cuts through the air... or a mutter, or something else.  They always sound like they're talking to us.  That's the worst part, maybe.

Myles is definitely stuck, his grimace now a look of pure confusion.  "Thete?  You killed it, right?"  He wiggles the hilt of his sword, but the corpse stays on it.  Worse, it flails at him a bit, and makes what sounds like a whimper.

I almost hear the Arms growl in reply, but that might be another of the corpses that I can't see.  Yet.

"I don't see any more around you, Myles!  You just have to deal with that one, okay?"  It's dark out here, but I'm pretty sure he's clear.  Maybe it was a bad idea to check this place out for clues.  Well, okay, it was a terrible idea, but it was Myles that had it, so I don't feel too bad about calling it out as terrible.

"Deal with that one."  He scowls.  "Make it sound easy, why don't you?"  The corpse flails at him again, and the motion's more someone reaching out for help than attacking.  My chest wrenches a little.  I almost want to help it.  Her.  I see a glint in the starlight and recognize the telltale pin on her.  Whatever this monster is now, she used to be a Poet.  She was kind of scrawny, too.  I count myself kind of lucky that I didn't know any Poets who are still missing, because otherwise I might have to worry about recognizing her.  She lets out a gurgling cry of anguish, grasping for Myles again.  I really want to reach out now, and have to restrain myself not to.

Then something reaches out to me and squeezes its narrow digits into my shoulder.  I scream.  The high-pitched sound cuts through the dark desert, betraying to all the surrounding world that a person is in trouble here, and that she is likely a ten-year-old girl.

"Lyric!  What's-- oh dammit--" and Myles is struggling with his attacking corpse and I'm faced with one looming over me, and two behind her.

The man gripping me looks into my eyes, his solid white eyes pleading with me even as his nose wrinkles and sniffs.  He doesn't look old and rotting, no matter if he's dead or not - but his mouth's torn open in a terrible gash.  He sucks in breaths as he talks, like he's sobbing with the words.  "I-- I just-- want-- want to--" He sniffles.  "Just want you-- please-- hungry?  Smell good--"

There's the sound of cloth tearing, and then I'm bolting across the desert, the ripped shoulder of my tunic gaping open.  He can eat the scrap of cloth that came away in his grip if he wants.  He's not having any part of me!

"LYRIC!"  Myles calls out, but I'm not waiting up for him.  I smell good to these things, for Judgement's sake!  I hear that grinding-through-ribcage sound again, and then he's panting, running behind me.  He's got longer legs than me and is really more of a physical guy, so it's no surprise that he manages to catch up.  I think he might have hurt his leg, though.  He's making a weird scuffling noise while he runs.

It doesn't really matter to me now, because I'm putting more sand and night between the eaters and myself, and that's the most important thing in my life.  For now.

Eventually we find the safe cave we've made into a base - I scan the surroundings quickly, and see no more of the eaters.  Looks like we got off easy.  I turn to Myles to state my relief.  He claps his hand over my mouth before I can scream again.

He's been dragging that girl on his sword behind us all this time.  We're lucky she's so damn light.  She's dazed, making occasional attempts to crawl away, budging her chest against the sword's blade, then slumping to the ground with a sigh that's a bit of a gurgle.  She really seems quite harmless.

"If you stay quiet," Myles says patiently, "we'll feed you."

My blood just turned to ice.  I rub my arms and try to fight the dizzy feeling in my mind.  Does he really mean--

"Food? Food."  The girl's voice is a whisper and a rasp, but she does keep it very quiet.  She's so hopeful.  Her face is so pleading as she looks at Myles-- and hungry when she looks at me.  I take a step back.

"Lyric, can you get out the trail rations?  It's dinnertime."  Myles sounds so calm and nonchalant, but he looks like a hawk, ready to dive and kill.  I'm relieved by that, as scary as he is that way.

I dig around in his pack, then find his food.  I'm not feeding corpse-girl my food, no matter how hungry she is.

* * *
Myles
* * *

Kiley looks away from me, sad once-brown eyes now milky and white.  Someone else would think her blind, but I was born with better instincts than that.  She plucks at the scrap of shirt that still hangs on her shoulders, the tatters just enough to still count as clothing, and still do the job of it.  It's sobering even looking at her, and makes me start wondering...

Wondering about perspective.

She tears off a thread from the fraying ends of the shirt and begins to nibble on it, her face contemplative.  Her eyes dart back up to me.  Something on my neck tickles when those white pupil-less irises focus.  I wonder if she can still Aim.  I've seen plenty of Armed in those caves, but not a single set of Arms between them all.

She looks away again, ashamed.  "I'm sorry," she whispers, the breath of it echoing metallic.  Thete probably nicked into her windpipe a little.  He's still sticking out of her, and refuses to budge if I ask him to.

I blink, looking at her over my helping of rabbit jerky and some-sort-of-bread.  It's all a bit crunchy by now.  "Sorry for what?  You haven't done anything yet."

"Looking at you makes me hungry more than anything.  It's... it's been a long time since they tossed anyone new in and..." She gnaws on another thread.  Her dinner's long-gone, she swallowed it down like it was nothing, with no satisfaction when she did.  "People make it a little better.  They fill.  For a little while and--" She chokes off, then starts sobbing into her hands, but her palms stay dry.  They don't even bleed, why should they cry?  "I'm so hungry.  Armed are the tastiest, but Poets last the longest.  Sandalphas lasted for days, the dear.  In the dark, in the cave, I pray for Jhe Cade to toss in a Mixed!  But it's been so long since he's come back.  Nothing stops the... hungry.  Just want food. Myles, can you get a villager?  Maybe an old one, he'd die soon... we don't die.  He wouldn't, afterward."

I sigh.  "No, Kiley.  I keep telling you that."  It's not the first time she's asked, but I'm beginning to think she doesn't remember a lot from day to day.  "Do you want to die?"

"Not as much as I want to eat."  She pouts.  "You used to be nice.  You're still nice now, you feed me.  But... maybe just a cat or something?"

I laugh.  "I thought you said only Poets and Armed hit the spot."  I hear Lyric gag on the other side of the rocks, and try not to smile.

"Yes but... anything..." She shakes.  "I tried to eat the rocks once... once or twice.  My teeth didn't break.  I don't rot.  I don't rot, Myles.  I'll last forever, longer than the Judge, longer than the rocks.  If anyone ever sees the end of it all, I'll be there, and... I'll be so hungry."

I sigh.  "Thete would Judge you if he could.  As it is, he's sticking to you so that you're not a danger to us.  That's the most I can do, Kiley."  I close my eyes, trying to think.  What do I tell Jhe h'Akribastes?  Who can fix this?  What do we do for them until then?

I guess I'm not going to be the one to decide that.

Are we done with her?  Thete growls up at me from Kiley's chest.  I sigh.

"Kiley?  Why do you stay near your cave?"

She shudders.  "We get fed there.  Or we used to.  Guess maybe the glory days are over... I remember when I got a whole arm to myself, once.  Might have been Jacob's, I can't be sure.  He's whole now, he looks unscathed... we all look... normal enough afterward.  Unless something happens.  Or... I don't know, Jacob's face never really came back together.  And I... I just feel..."  She bites her lip, then chews on it before realizing that it'll do her no good.  "I get sick when I think of normal people looking at what I am.  I'm not all gored up... well, except for your sword, but I understand.  My nails, though."  They're gnawed down to the quick.  "Even my toenails.  It's not a lot, I know.  But I see my eyes, sometimes, reflected in bits of metal.  I remember what it was like to have normal eyes, and then I don't want to remember, and then I never want anyone to see me again."  Those white eyes look out across the desert.  They're full of longing, and not all of it is that raw hunger of hers.  "No one sees us in the cave, and that's as close to right as we'll ever get again.  When we were being fed, I was almost happy.  I had a home, and nothing could hurt me anymore."  She bites her lip again in a sideways gnaw.  "Food doesn't come in anymore.  Not the good stuff.  And the good stuff... well, they're us now, so there's more, so we've got more to feed.  Jacob chased down a rabid fox that crawled in one night, but how far does that go when there's so many of us now?  And every now and then I think: am I being the logical one by thinking about these things, or is rationing for a herd of the damned an even more monstrous thing than just being one?  Myles, really, you've got two hands.  You only need one.  That's what I hear about boys."

I laugh again, but the humor's gone.  "Thete's a two-handed sword.  I can wield him one-handed, but not forever.  He wouldn't put up with the indignity."

She looks down at the sand under her knees.  "I miss my Arms.  I... I can't remember her name."

My blood goes a little cold.

"My mother's name, either.  Or my brother's.  Darella was my sister, I remember her... I bet she's tasty.  I bet they're all so delicious.  I wish they'd visit sometime.  Maybe someday I'll go and visit them instead.  I'd be hungry but..." Her eyes sparkle.  "We all last forever now.  Surely I'd make it."

I bite my own lip.  "Maybe it would be better for you to stay in your cave."

She grins up at me.  "If you come with me, dear sweet Myles."

Okay, that's creepy enough for me.  I reach for Thete, and pull him clean out of her chest.  He lets go this time.  "Go home."

She looks me over like a steak dinner.

"I'll cut off your head.  You won't be able to eat anything then."

Kiley's face crumples.  She pouts.  Then she turns, slowly, and trudges away to her home.

I sigh.  "Pack up," I say to Lyric, never turning away from Kiley.  "She'll just bring back the rest of them.  We can't stay here anymore."

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I should know better than to look forward to getting up.

"Father.  Lyric's been following us.  He's lurking out there in the desert."

My brain has a total of two seconds to flip-flop into awareness enough for me to figure out what he's even talking about.  Lyric's not lurking, of course he's out there where else would he be, but he's on our side--

Ah.  Yes.  Gerude wouldn't know about that last part.  He wouldn't know because I chose not to tell him.

I try to make my actions look urgent for Gerude.  I am sure he thinks he is alerting me to very imporant things.  He is trying to do right by the law and by me.  But dammit I don't want to have my adult-yet-strangely-adolescent-acting son hovering over me like an eagle that's spotted a mouse on my shoulder while I'm trying to get out of my bedroll and stumble over to a corner where I can just pee.

Three seconds into blessed relief, I look over at him sharply and say, "Some things come first, son."

He backs down, which tells me just how deep the grimace on my face must be right now.  I have a few moments of peace to sort my thoughts into something coherent.  He's discovered Lyric.  That's unfortunate, but I knew it was inevitable.  I was just hoping it wouldn't be nearly this soon!  I'm almost proud of him for exceeding my expectations so thoroughly.  Still... Lyric's secret can't get out, and Gerude doesn't need to know it to be able to do his duties, so it's time for me to figure out a way to handle this.  And I need to figure it out somewhat quickly, because a man can only urinate for so long.

* * *

Erynn works on breakfast while Gerude glowers at me over our low-light campfire.  We're about to move out.  To Robinstead, in theory.

"We can catch him, Dad.  Erynn saw him pretty recently.  It's just been a couple hours and he can't have that many places to hole up.  And you know how Lyric dresses, there's no way he'll blend out here in the sand and sand and... more sand!"

I bite my lip.  Erynn hazards a look over at me, obviously curious as to what I'll say.  And, well, that cinches it more than anything - I can't have the Poet knowing the information that could most get Lyric killed.  Gerude must not catch Lyric, and I must not give away that it is my intent that Gerude fail in his aims.  "The desert is a big place, 'Rude.  And he's been able to find us once.  He knows what to look out for.  We may not be in the best position to chase down a rabbit right now."  I sigh.  "It was nice that he warn us about the caves.  I was already aware of the danger, so I know he wasn't using it as a ruse to hide some operation with."

"Don't we need to investigate?"  Gerude's eyes are burning.  With importance, with urgency, with some need to do something.  I understand.  He is young, and my call to reason isn't going to hold as much sway as the call of a chase.

"The caves are not a secret to me, as I said.  You might imagine that someone is already, in fact, investigating."  I give him a meaningful look.  Gerude's business isn't to mind the operations of the combined forces of every Armed.  That is in fact my business.

He widens his eyes, then nods.  Good.  Understanding.  That's a relief to see, coming from someone who can be a bit... impetuous.  Especially as of late.  He gets so severe, too.  So serious.  I suppose the Blackirons kid is good for him in that regard.

Gerude scoops out some soup from the kettle, then hands me the bowl before he scoops some for Erynn.  "Do you think we can trust him not to give us away?  He knows where we are.  He's a traitor.  He's dangerous, Dad!"  Dammit, he's got me pinned with those eyes.  They're so close to my own, but blue, and a little colder.

The sad truth is that he's right.  It makes sense to hunt down Lyric.  It would be strange not to try.  Lyric sort of guaranteed a mess for himself, no matter what his good intentions.  I almost decide to ask Myles just what he was thinking by sending Lyric out here with the warning, especially when he knew that I already knew about the caves, but perhaps Lyric did this on his own.  He has a history of doing things on his own.  I didn't exactly tell Myles to babysit him.

Well, I have no other choice, do I?  "We'll scout around for him, but let's not stray too far from our path.  There's the possibility that he's trying to draw us out for an ambush, or simply waste our time.  We musn't forget that Robinstead is waiting for us, and we don't want to leave it open as a target."  I give the words the weight they, in theory, deserve.  But it's like when he and Gerald were little scraps going out on play missions that I'd lead.  To me, it feels like some sort of hollow game.

It isn't a game to Gerude, though.  And that's the worst part - if it's not a game for him, it certainly won't be for Lyric.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *
The sky is black and it is empty of the moon, which makes the stars so much brighter for it.  I suppose that's some lesson I'm supposed to take away - in the darkest night the light is brightest, or something.  I'm not really in the mood for poetic lessons right now - I'm too focused on my youngest daughter.  In this lack-of-light, I can't really get one last look at her face.  That was, in fact, how we planned this.

I do lean over and give her a kiss on her cheek.  She sucks in a breath, then throws her arms around my neck.  I feel her nose nuzzle into my shoulder and hear the words "I'll miss you so much, Daddy," whispered into my hair.  Then, I pass her to the man I should probably trust least.

The new Kommissar gives me a nod, the picture of politeness.  "As I said, Jhe o'Radia - I shall see to the safety of the princess personally."  He escorts her into the coach, arm around her shoulders, curled as if to block a potential hit.  I'm sure it's a position that's become habitual for him.  He closes the door behind her, then steps back to address me once more.  It's strange - he looks rather ineffectual, but his eyes pierce and search almost as much as the Judge's.

There's a stir of hidden movement behind me, and just the barest suggestion of a blade.  I am protected, I know.  I think Jhe Lute slipped purposefully there, to remind the Kommissar of that fact.  Lute isn't the only one on guard now, either.

I nod.  "You will be off, then?"

The Kommissar considers quietly for a moment.  "I shall be off very quickly indeed.  If I might ask a great favor of you... could you please relay this message to my King?  I have no better way of contacting him directly, otherwise I would not so burden you, your highness."

I nod at the letter in his hand.  "I can indeed."  I take it, caution arising in every fiber of my being.  There seems to be no malice in it that I can detect, but I will not let my guard down.  Not around a man that survived Stevane's Armed awakening.

"That is done with, then."  He bows to me, then withdraws to the carriage.  "My gratitude for returning one of Audiva Rocale's treasures.  I shall see to her safety at all times."  He ducks into the carriage, then closes the door.  I nod to the driver - a man or woman concealed entirely by a black cloak.  Then, I don't see the driver at all.  The carriage slips away into the night and out of my field of vision.  The pinpricks of the stars blur, and another one of my children leaves me.

She's safer than Jaxhelshon, at least.  He's still training under the Peacekeeper.  In Rhivend, no less.  And Edward...

Well, less should be said about him.

Katherine, at least, is still home.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

There are a great many things these days to keep an eye on, which makes it rather useful indeed to be a Poet King.  The northern borders, the shadowy movements of conspirators, the comings and goings of the Armed against and with those they seek to bring to Justice.  So many things afar that bear watching.

But some things bear watching that are quite a bit closer to home.

I bow with a touch less formality than usual.  Jhe Katherine appreciates less courtesy shown towards her various offices as opposed to more, and respecting that is its own way of showing etiquette.  She nods to me wearily in reply.  I understand - it is late at night, and she has gone through a long search, mostly in vain.  "I know what happened."

Her face twists in annoyance.  "You know, some people enjoy telling the story themselves.  Some people find that helps relieve a little stress.  But I guess some other people aren't too terribly into the prospect of a nice conversation tonight."

I am properly chagrined, and bow in apology.  "Perhaps there are other ways of working out your frustrations."

Her face is rather priceless, and catching Katherine in a wordless moment is an accomplishment unto itself, so I take a moment before I can clarify what I meant.

"How long has it been since you've sparred?"

She sighs, parting her bangs away from her eyes.  "Camden's out whipping Jax into shape, Gerald went with him claiming he wasn't just going along to swap more spit with Rachella, and of course 'Sy's gone out to blaze a trail of glory on his own.  I've practised, I've done my share of training any newcomers, but it's not the same."  She growls, scuffing the polished floor with the toe of her boot.  "If it's not one person running, it's another one gone."

I nod.  That was also about what I had thought, but letting Katherine talk is a novel way of prolonging one's life.  "You do seem pent-up.  Perhaps it isn't the best time to ask, then.  I can't give you near the level of experience you're used to dealing with."

That acquires an eyebrow raise from Katherine.

I steeple my fingers, trying to keep the mischief off of my face.  After long studies in the mirror, I've finally realized why Elete had his problems earning trust at certain key moments.  He and I both always did and do look like we're up to something... and, well, I always am.  "I feel it prudent to take up the sword.  For my own defense, and that of others, of course."

She doesn't look taken aback.  She doesn't look concerned, and she doesn't look dubious - all things I'd expect of 'Sy were I to make the same request of him.

She grins.  It is the wide grin of a wolf that's found prey.

I start to wonder if I should recalculate, but my future self still seems very much alive, so my life must not be in any great danger from this.  At least, I hope.  Maybe my future self is fresh from a visit to the Place of Regeneration.

Katherine takes my hand, and before I know it I'm being dragged to the Armed Hall.  "Let me find a blade that fits you.  I hope you're wearing pants under all those robes."

* * *

"You're serious.  You don't have any pants."

I shake my head.

Katherine claps her hand over her mouth, but the giggle escapes her grasp.  Her eyes sparkle with mirth over her covered mouth.  Then she doubles over, unable to hold in the peals of laughter that I have managed to summon.  She manages to choke out a question: "Underwear?"  She snorts twice after I shake my head.

I can feel my cheeks coloring, but I feel I must still explain myself.  "When already wearing so many layers, there's really less reason for--"  She grins appraisingly, looking me over, and I can't continue under the scrutiny.

"Looks like you've lost a few layers since Elete."

I bite my lip.  She laughs again.  How am I the speechless person tonight?

She chuckles again, then nudges me aside as she walks past.  "You stay here," she pats me as she says it.  "I'll go find something for your dignity."  After she's managed a few steps away from me, she snorts again.

I just stand there in the open training room, blinking, my robes feeling more heavy and out-of-place by the moment.  Did... did she just pat me on the butt?

* * *

The feel of cloth around my thighs and crotch is constraining, and I keep double-checking that a shenanigan isn't attacking my heels every time I feel the legs of my pants brush against my calves.  Still, I must admit that trousers are ever so much more convenient than my robes of office.  When I pointed out that I'd be more likely to fight in the latter than the former, Katherine gently reminded me

[with a swat on my newly-pantsed rear with the flat of her blade]

--that proper training starts with the most appropriate setting and regalia.

"You'll just sweat yourself up faster anyway, wearing all those layers.  No sense messing them up, they're too nice to waste on an impulse thing like this."

I frown.  "I'm serious about this, though.  It wasn't just some whim--"

She cuts me off.  "Having me train you in the middle of the night isn't exactly the best laid plans, Jhe Alestere."

I smile at the loss of my title.  I suppose I am just another trainee to her, now.  "On the contrary, I knew you'd appreciate a distraction tonight, Jhe Katherine."

In the next moment, I congratulate myself on ducking from her unexpected strike.  Goodness, she hasn't even taught me a proper stance yet.  I realize that perhaps I'm being a bit too familiar, but it's so difficult not to when you can look at a person and instantly know that...

That...

Well, she's a nice person that I care about, is all.

Katherine glares up at me, sword held at the ready.  "Well, you can certainly duck, and you're holding yourself rather well, but you need to widen your stance and angle your hips better if you're going to do anything with your rapier."

I comply, and after a couple corrections by her, I seem to be in the proper--

"Don't just dangle your arm in back like it's a dishrag hanging off of your waist.  You're a Xaillyndesse, use your poise!"

Sheepishly, I lift my non-sword hand and crook my elbow just-so.  "There."

A silence ensues.

I tilt the tip of my sword down just a bit, pantomiming a tap on her shoulder, then raise it again.  "You can talk to me about it.  I do already know the story, as my future self did seem to think it relevant to me to know - but it is different than hearing it from you, and you seem to need to tell it."

She replies with a swipe that comes nowhere near my blade or my body - I realize that she's showing me an example of what I am to learn.  Before I mimic it, she stops me:

"Just watch, and listen."

And I watch her move in all her fierce grace, and I listen as she tells me.

"Eistinn didn't have any problem with me being there, when we found Val.  Val wasn't even difficult to find.  He'd teleported out, which made his initial escape rather hard to trace, but he hadn't gone far.  I suppose he wasn't really hiding.  He wanted to talk to Eistinn."  For a few moments, there's only the whisper of a blade through air.  "You'll be doing this part a lot, you see.  It's to test someone's guard."  She sighs, blowing a few strands of hair to the side.  "Val didn't want to talk to me.  He... he didn't even want to look at me."  She studies me now, unsure of whether to go on.

"I think I was told the story already so that you wouldn't worry yourself over which parts to hide," I say as I think through her movements, and think through how well my muscles will manage them.

There are no fat Xaillyndessen, and we carry ourselves well, and I may be rather trim, but... well, I have enough strength to carry the second-heaviest book in the Library by myself.  But her moves look familiar, at least.  Memories are stirring, and my stance is responding.

She narrows her eyes.  "I'm beginning to see why the Blue Lords were regarded as so dangerous.  You're like a self-enabling spy, conspiring with your future to alter your present."

I try to look ashamed, but it's more of an act that anything.  I can't stop being what I am, and apparently my future self doesn't deem doing so to be an intelligent course of action either.  In any case, I realize after a moment that Katherine's giving me an admiring look for such machinations.

"I have to appreciate someone brave enough to use time itself to ask me about my relationship with 'Sy."  She does a little turn, then ends it with her blade under my chin.  "Was that your plan?"

She's left just enough room in front of my neck for me to speak without sticking myself.  "Not exactly.  Though, this part was, for some reason, not something I decided to warn myself of.  In fact, occasionally I wonder if my future self has it in for me."

She laughs.  "Perhaps your future self is getting back at you for something his future self did to him."

I consider that.  "You know, it's sadly likely that might be the case."

The sword lowers, and once it's clear of my neck she whips the blade away from me.  "What was your plan, Jhe Alestere?"

I shake my head.  "Not machination, merely concern.  Your and 'Sy's problems cause quite a bit of disruption starting at this part of the timeline.  And when you consider how Val couldn't look at you..."

She looks away.  "I think about all the times before then that 'Sy couldn't look at me, and with the same expression on his face."  Her eyes narrow into slits.  "He never talks about Rhia, but he always thinks about her, and... and in ways that I can never even pry at."  She looks at me, wary.

I hold up my unburdened hand, palm out, in front of my chest.  I keep my sword at ready, though.  I'm beginning to get a grasp of how Katherine converses.  "I am not here to sabotage you, and the things you tell me, I hold in trust.  In my past, and in my future, and in the present before you."

She shakes her head.  "I... I don't know.  It's always been the two of us, Jhe Alestere.  His mind, and mine.  But there's a part of him I can't see.  He shields it from me, and he won't let me in."  She blinks, betraying tears.  "That's where he keeps his memories of Rhia.  The other Advocate.  His Advocate."

I decide that despite her having a sword in her hand, now is a good time to put my arm around her shoulders.  She doesn't fend off the maneuver, which means I still posses the aforementioned arm.  "Do you hold it against Jhe Valtoryeh?"

"No.  Val was Rhia's husband, that much I've managed to learn."  She sighs.  "For the way 'Sy acts from time to time, you'd think she was the Judge's wife back then instead.  I... it just stings.  Being pushed away from 'Sy... I got used to that.  Val..."

"Jhe Valtoryeh will heal with sleep, and even more with time."

"And what about 'Sy?  He left me here.  And when he's not leaving me, he pushes me away."  She presses into my side.  I'm used to having the robes, still - they tend to be useful for comforting people, considering how they blot away tears.  Now there's just skin, and when the tears wet that, it gives me goosebumps.

Still, I hold her a little closer.  "Perhaps time can heal that as well."

She looks up at me, and something in her eyes catches me, and I realize that I've been trapped.  There's a frantic flailing at my future self for getting me into a mess, for trapping me between Katherine and 'Sy, for sliding absolutely the wrong words onto my tongue, but my future whispers back to me:

You think you'll regret it now, but believe me, in but a moment nothing else will matter.

I can't really curse myself for it either, because when Katherine decides she wants something, she pulls it down to her level by the hair.  My long, grabbable, convenient hair.  Whatever I was going to tell myself, I forget.

And of course, once her mouth reaches mine, my future is proven right once again.

* * *
Aaren
* * *

I really want to lie on my stomach.  I've been lying on my back, or sometimes my side, for a couple months now.  Schiphael dealt me some pretty heavy wounds.  I insisted on letting them heal naturally.  Sometimes we Armed do that.  Raven kept that scar across his face, says it was a lesson.  I have one on my face, too, and across my chest, and that big one from the wound that almost spilled my guts out.  For me, it's a reminder of...

Of...

Just, stuff.  Damn.  It's still so hard not to think about it, but I'm trying.  Mental wounds scar worse than the physical ones, and heal so much slower.  But at least the physical ones have healed by now.  I might feel comfortable lying on my stomach in a few days, or maybe a week.  I can go without the bandages now, and tracing over the scars is a weirdly intriguing habit I'm starting to develop.  I have divots in me, like canyons, and they go all down me.

And they're never going away.

I reflect on it as I trace down the big dried-up riverbed that goes from my ribs all the way down to my waistband.  Just a gentle tracing, up and down, as I reflect, and then realize that my mind is strangely quiet.  That's strange, Emily hardly ever stops talking.

Emily?

There's the sense of a startle.  Oh, there she is.  She's been there the whole time, watching me think as I trace my scars.  Silly girl, what's so interesting about that?

Sorry.  I was distracted.  She sounds so flustered.  I've been thinking about the whole... mission thing.  It's a little weird to hear that we'll be picking up orders from the Peacock King.

I smile.  It's strange, sometimes, to hear all the different names for the ruler.  I've been on both sides, in varying roles, and heard so many names for Jhe o'Audiva Rocale.  Often the names say a lot about the person using them.

It's also really weird to know that he's down the damn hall from you, Aaren.  Her tone is colored with worry.  That doesn't sound like the safest thing for anyone involved.  He's a dangerous man.

I stifle a laugh.  You're concerned for me?

Of course I'm concerned, Aaren!  She sounds so angry.  It's weird to hear, she's usually such a mellow girl.  He's almost destroyed entire countries!  You just got the bandages off, and--  There's a pause, and then I realize it's not a pause.  She just stopped talking.

I hazard a mental poke at her.  She's... quiet.  I realize after a moment that she's refusing to speak to me, and it hurts more than I expect.  I... Emily?  Is something wrong?

She shakes her head, then pokes back at me. It started as our version of checking to make sure the other is there, but now it's... sort of like a hug.  It's definitely a comfort.  I'm sorry Aaren.  I just got worried.  I saw your scars for the first time today, and then we got orders from, well, the Kommissar of all people, which I suppose is our job...  She sighs.  Maybe I'm not cut out for this type of stuff.

I give her the mental nudge again, but it's more of a shoulder-pat.  I think you're cut out for this stuff better than I am.  You sure think a heck of a lot more than I do.  You're just emotional every now and then.  Maybe it's just your period or something.

The mental glare she gives me singes my ears.  I grin, though.  The first time I had to go through her having her period is something I'm going to look back on for the rest of my life as the best entertainment I've ever had.

Maybe next time I have my period, I'll let you have the cramps!  She still sounds miffed, but there's a chuckle under it.  Same old Emily again.  That's a comfort.  Get some sleep, you lazy lump.

I laugh.  I'm a convalescent!  You're not being fair at all.  I sigh.  Writing tonight?  I could use some nice dreams.

Yeah.  Just a little.  It'll be nice to kick back and stop thinking about this spying stuff for a bit.  I get the impression of her stretching her arms over her head as she sits at her desk.  Pirate stories tonight, I think.  Getting a hunch about that.

Oh?  I poke.  Poets don't just write for no reason, even when they think they do.

She shakes her head, then pushes me away.  Go to sleep, and then you can dream it and I can write it.  No sense speculating on some whisper of an idea.

I sigh, then close my eyes.  Enough dwelling on scars.  There's always something new to look forward to.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

Aaren sent me word earlier that his mission is proceeding just fine, which is the one thing I can feel relieved about.  Everything must be fine at home as well - no one's sent me any alerts to the contrary.  Everything will be fine out here, too.  I'm sure it'll all turn out for the best.

But it sounds the tiniest bit like I'm lying to myself - I can hear Diyn chuckling somewhere in the back of my head.

"Hm.  Well, I'll give you credit where it's due, Jhe h'Akribastes - your son Lyric is a clever one."

Gerude just growls as he looks out over the desert.  So far, any of his attempts to find Lyric with his Aim have ended with frustration and empty hands.  I can understand his grief - he's certain Lyric's Guilty, but his Arms can't sniff out that guilt.

Of course, I know that he can't Aim for Lyric because that guilt isn't really there, but I can't tell Gerude that.  I can't blow Lyric's cover.  It's bad enough that he's in the position he's in already.  I refuse to make it even harder for him to survive.  He shouldn't even be out there at all!

I sigh, then turn my horse in the opposite direction.  "Civilization is this way.  He'll have to head there sooner or later, and when he does, we'll be waiting for him."  Robinstead.  We need to get to Robinstead.

* * *
Gerude
* * *

I glare down at the sand as if it were what I was Aiming for.  It's so hard, trying to find my brother.  I think my emotions are getting in the way of it, and that angers me the most.  I should be able to hunt him just like any other criminal, but...

Something's stopping me, and it can't be my Arms.  It must be something inside of me.  Letting my heart cloud my judgement... and right in front of Father.  He's not impressed with anything I do, and I can tell he's getting mad at my poor results.  That he can't find Lyric either is no consolation - he's Lyric's Father too, of course he has trouble admitting that Lyric's a danger.  Dad always goes easy on his kids.

I should be able to make up for that, though.  I should be able to do this!  ...But I can't.

"Hm."  Erynn looks over the sands and out to the horizon.

I just sigh.  Time to follow Father.  There's nothing else I can do here, nothing else that Father's willing to do...

Wait.

I look up to Erynn.  "Hey, is Lyric a Poet?  I know he got some training in the Poet Hall, but I... is there something that makes it official, or is it like Armed where you are one or you aren't?"

Erynn grins at me.  "It's funny to hear you ask that question.  Armed usually seem to think Poetry is a sort of contagious disease.  Finally getting comfortable with the idea that you've been around me too long?"  He laughs at my cross look.  I think my face is turning red.  "I get what you're asking, and don't worry - you're not a Poet, as far as I know.  But we don't really have a real definite test for that sort of thing, so don't just let your guard down all of a sudden.  Lyric, now..."  He closes his eyes.  His horse shifts from foot to foot in a slow dance as the Poet concentrates.  It's weird - when Erynn uses his gifts from Poetry, he actually looks serious.

"Gerude?  Erynn?"  Father calls back to me, turning.  I guess he expected us to follow him.  He glances at Erynn and rolls his eyes when it's apparent that our party's Poet is in some sort of trance.  "Figures," he mutters, but he doesn't stray any further from the pair of us.

Erynn's eyes snap open.  He points to the rocks that lie far towards the horizon, to the south, not quite in the direction of Robinstead but not straying much farther away from it either.  "He's reading something over there."

I blink.  "How the heck can you know that?"

Erynn's brow creases.  "Because he's a Poet, and he's reading Poetry that wants to be read.  He's got a knack for sneaking about, but I bet he's never been trained not to read Poetry too loud.  Most Poets innately know to write quietly, but they don't think about the same thing as applied to reading.  It's helped us discover some Poet trainees before, so it's not a very surprising mistake for a rookie."  He smirks.  "Guess he should have stuck around for more training before turning traitor."

I look to Father.  His expression is hard to read, and as he thinks the situation over, I wonder if he'll just call it off anyway.  To be honest, part of me hopes he will, but that's a part I don't want to admit still exists.

* * *
‘Sy
* * *

Damn that Poet boy, damn his affinity for Gerude, and damn Elete for having trained him so well in the first place.

It's tempting to just wave off Jhe Blackirons's observations as Poetic nonsense, especially among Armed.  But doing so would be blatantly lying in front of my son, and not only do I not want to do that, but I'm certain he'd see through it.  No, right now a Poet's competence is forcing my hand, and I like it less than when Elete's incompetence would do the same thing.

Maybe it's not too late to explain things to Gerude.  But then I'll have to explain them to the Poet as well.  The Blackirons boy talks too fucking much.  I can't trust him not to blow Lyric's cover eventually.

Lyric's with Myles right now, and Myles can keep him safe.  Right.  They're both very clever, I'm sure they'll find a way out of this mess.

"Well, that settles it.  Let's go and bring him in."

* * *
Myles
* * *

"And by all that is still good in this... in this god-damned world..."

Lyric's voice cuts through the dim light in here like a knife, chilling the air as it does so.  How could he read that all aloud?  My guts turned to ice at least halfway through.  Come to think of it... I feel a little funny now.

Must be the cave.  Or the Poetry, for that matter.  Lyric's hunched low, reading what looks to be the last of it.  It's hard to tell - I could barely make out that there were words at all.  Too much mess in here.  And it just feels dark, somehow.  Thete won't even talk about it.

"...I hunger too.  Here in the dark... I hunger too."  Lyric swallows after the final line, then composes himself.  "He's warning us to get out of here, you know."

"Yeah.  But they're down at the other end of the cave system by now.  There's a lot of exits out of this thing... or entries, depending on how you look at it."  I sigh.  "I don't know if this is the best place to stay... but they keep following us.  I figure they won't think to look for us somewhere in their own lair."

Lyric's skin has a gray cast to it, but he doesn't disagree.  He just hides that little lantern of his so that there's the barest glow in here.  It's probably best that way - the things will sneak up on us in the dark.  Something tells me that those white eyes get their sight from something else besides light.  "Sandalfas mentioned your friend Kiley in this poem.  Did you know him, too?"

"Yeah.  A little.  He was a nice guy, I trained with him."  I frown.  "I wonder what happened to Maerin.  Did he say in the poem that he dropped her?"

"Yeah."  Lyric's voice is extra shaken in that confirmation.  "I don't know what happened to her.  Gerald's Arms went to me when Jhe Ebrellin-i captured him.  Would Sandalfas's Arms have gone to Father?"

I shake my head.  "Sandalfas was never confirmed dead.  That's usually how Jhe h'Akribastes confirms someone's died in the field, but there's been a lot of Armed that have gone missing without their Arms appearing in the Hall afterward.  We're not sure yet exactly what's happening with that."

Lyric contemplates that.  "Yeah, Cade was kidnapping a lot of Armed and Poets.  He tried to take Gerald."  He shudders.  "I wonder if Gerald would have ended up here instead of with Thelea?"

My stomach turns again, but I try to ignore it.  "We need to find Maerin.  If we do, she could tell us a lot.  And we might as well be useful while we're stuck in here."

Lyric doesn't reply, but I swear I can sense that he doesn't think I've got the best idea there.

"Look, I can search around for her.  She'll know me, if she's still... awake.  She'll know Thete.  Sandalphas and I sparred in training.  Arms remember that just like Armed do.  You stay near the entrance and keep an eye out for any more of Kiley's pack."

"Okay."  Lyric is quiet in a way that unsettles me, but it's enough.  I take my own lantern out, set it as dim as I can bear, and then plunge into the cave's depths.

* * *
Lyric
* * *

Myles has worked his way far enough into the cave that I can't sense any sign of him.  I sit on a rock and let my thoughts clear for a moment.  That Poetry made it hard to even think, and it was hard to even answer Myles whenever he'd speak to me.  It's easier, now that I'm alone, now that it's quiet.  The only problem is now that my mind's clearer, I can sense other things.  Not any Eaters, thank goodness.  They seem to be far clear of this area.  Pickings must have been slim here, or perhaps they themselves are uncomfortable looking at Sandalphas's Poetry now.  No... the bad feeling I have is something else.  It's a kind of certainty, and the worst thing about it is that it is so very clear and so very unchangeable.

Myles needed to go into the cave.  He needs to go in there and... do whatever it is he does.  It's just that him having to do that means him leaving me here, which...

Well, it's not good.  I'm weighing my options, feeling out my premonitions for each choice I could make from here.  Following Myles is absolutely a no-go.  He's about to deal with something that I can't handle.  And I don't want to go deeper into this cave anyway.  But leaving the cave would also be very dangerous - maybe it means Myles and I get split up permanently, and then I run across something I can't handle.  Whatever it is, I get the feeling that I shouldn't leave my current location.  I should stay right here.  I should stay here and...

No, that wouldn't be a good idea.  But... strangely, I'm still quite certain of it.  It doesn't make any sense, but it's what I do next.  I shrug my shoulders.  I suppose I've done stranger things before on a hunch.

I turn the little wheel on my lantern that raises the wick, then open its case all the way.  It  lets out the most light possible.  I take a quick look around.  Sometimes hunches can save your life.  Maybe there's something within view now that I would have missed.

A click, cold, hard, and metallic, rings through my ears.  I'm familiar by now with the sound of a gun being cocked.  I also know that there's no good reason for anyone who means business to not already have cocked their gun if they wanted to sneak up on someone and then shoot them.  No, only someone with a sense of the dramatic cocks their gun just so their target can hear it.

I raise my hands above my head.

"Good.  Now you're going to step out here before Gerude has to produce any more useless theatrics with his Arms.  They really don't quite like that."  Jhe Erynn's voice is good-humored and calm.  I'm almost convinced that I'll be safe, just from the tone of it.  I also realize what a fool I've been in the past few minutes - I've been alert to the Eaters, and to Nul's dangers, and all sorts of other things.  I did not think to counter simple Poetry.  Instead I just let myself think that it was a good idea to crank up my lantern, and thus tip off Erynn and Gerude to my exact location.

I step out of the cave.  Erynn and Gerude are waiting just a few horselengths from the entrance.  It's Father who steps up from behind me, right where he was concealed at the side of the cave's mouth.  It's Father who ties my hands, and it's Father who consoles me with, of all things...

"Good, don't bother to make a fuss.  You're in the hands of the Law now."

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I don't want to describe the amount of relief that floods into me when I see Lyric for the first time in months, safe whole and healthy.  I shouldn't be relieved to take him into custody, even though he's in no danger of Judgment.  That fact is hammered home by Diyn's snickering in the back of my mind at the thought of Gerude bringing Lyric to Trial for absolutely no reason.

No, I shouldn't be relieved at all, but damnit Lyric's been away for months, under the authority of a dangerous, conniving woman, directly after getting into the most trouble he's ever been in.  Possibly the most trouble any of my children have been in, but that's debateable - I have a very active brood.  It's only natural to want to take him home and keep him safe and never let trouble touch him again.

But he's got my brother's eyes, and anything akin to that approach certainly never worked with Luciprochoros.  That's a funny thing to accept while tying my son's hands behind his back, but sometimes we have to do strange things to keep our children safe.

I can bind him, you know.  Your elder son is already itching to.

I pause, then look up at Gerude, noting the calculated glare he has for Lyric right now.  His face frightens me, and worse it worries me.  I don't like my children to fight.  He means well, but...

My own eyes widen.  I push Lyric forward and haul him up onto the Blackirons boy's horse.  I give the horse a slap on his hindquarter: "HEEYAH!"  I manage to catch Jhe Erynn's eyes before he takes off, and while he seems confused, I'm fairly certain the cogs are already turning in his head.  He's a Poet, maybe he even knows what's coming ahead.  It would certainly be a mercy for Poetic abilities to actually come in handy for me for once.  At the very least, he grabbed onto Lyric so that he didn't fall off.

The horse races away with the two of them, giving me a clear shot.  I've already drawn Diyn, and his form shifts into that of a gun so fast that you'd swear he never preferred a trident or a sword.  The enemy is already in my sights - a shambling figure just like the ones reported to me.  It's a clear shot, but once that one's gone I'll have the others to dispatch.

The shot fires wide right as I hear Diyn mutter a curse in my head that even I don't fully understand.  I do hear his admonition to turn.  I whip around, his shape shifting into the familiar Trident with the motion, and he swings himself upwards just in time to block a blow from an assailant behind me that I didn't even sense.

Boiling blood and rust, Tesynnodai, I barely saw THAT one coming!  Keep your guard up!

Gerude's horse shies.  I hear the empty clicks of his guns as he, too, fails to Aim.

The reports echo through my head: human-like enemies that were somehow inhuman, and were extremely difficult to kill, if not impossible.  Enemies in the form of my own lost Armed.

A scream rips the air.  Gerude almost falls off his horse as it lurches downward, its right back leg suddenly missing a huge amount of flesh.  One of our attackers looks up at me, his mouth bloody with horseflesh, his expression that of someone finally sated.  Something clenches in my chest.

Jacob?  It's been years since I've last seen him.  The impulse to lunge forward and check him over and see how I can help him is so strong that I draw on Diyn's strength to overcome it.  When Jacob looks back at me, his eyes don't have recognition in them as much so they have hunger.

Gerude clocks him over the head with Kennit, then attempts to urge his horse forward.  The horse gamely attempts it, then falls under his and Gerude's weight.  My son rolls away, firing Caerig and Kennit blindly as he takes to his feet.  The shots don't manage to hit anything, but they make several other assailants give him enough room to take to his feet and run.

I run with him.

"Jhe h... Akribastes?"  The words are spoken by a girl whose mouth sounds as if it's all much now, and then I realize she's trying to speak around the horsemeat.  I don't turn.  I don't slow.  "Come back... I haven't seen you in so long, Sire.  I'm still Armed, Sire!"

Diyn glares from the back of my mind, but doesn't speak on that.

I'd left my horse out of view behind a wall of tumbled rocks so that Lyric wouldn't detect me.  That's the only thing that's kept it safe during this.  I make it to my horse first, then pull Gerude up behind me.  Then I urge the horse forward before we're dragged down again.  Once the animal is moving fast enough, the attackers can't do anything to stop us.  It helps that most of them are congregating around what's left of Gerude's horse, taking their dinner.

None of them are bearing Arms, 'Sy.  Diyn's voice echoes through my thoughts as I try to find Erynn's trail.  None of their Arms will answer my calls.  Most of them went silent years ago.

I have no reply for Diyn.  I'm still fighting myself about my retreat.  Some part of me is convinced I'm abandoning soldiers now, that they are all my Armed.  They all were my Armed, once.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

While being pursued by insatiable animated dead ex-comrades, you start to think all this stuff over and wonder just how lucky it is that a non-dead ex-comrade spy managed to escape it all by being slung over your saddle before you burst forward into the desert night like a small dog that Stevane lit on fire.  I'd say as much to Lyric, but he's too busy screaming, and I don't really blame him for it.  It's just that it really cuts down on things like, well, stealth.  Maybe he means to alert his hidden comrades to his plight, after which I shall be assailed by any unknown number of terrors.

No.  It would be exciting, but Lyric isn't a ringleader.  He's the type to get by on his charisma alone.  And I must say, so far it's gotten him a long way, so I can't fault his strategy.  Still.

I fwap him against the ear.  He yelps once, then quiets.  Lyric isn't dumb, and he grasps concepts very quickly.  My horse bolts across the desert in blessed silence.  We lose what pursuers we had.

It's quiet, the horse is fast.  I can think.  More importantly, I can perceive.  I've been tracking the feel of Lyric's Poetry already - now he's nearby enough that it's even easier to do.  He was never taught to counter or hide his trail, it seems, though he's had an obvious natural knack for both traits.  Many Poets do, really - it tends to keep those who have yet to be brought into the Poet Hall safe from enemies that might be seeking out fresh young Poet minds.  Certainly I'm not one of those forces, though - that must be why Lyric's natural defenses didn't kick in.

...Odd, I came to that conclusion rather quickly.  I tend to think more about things before settling on a--

I chuckle.  I'm proud of myself that I even caught that.  Possibly, Lyric didn't.  No, I know he didn't.  He's doing all of his Poetry by instinct, natural urges and sheer charisma, which is why it's been so powerful.  It's difficult for something that can't be tracked to be countered by any major force in the world.  There's no guaranteed counter to a gambit that has no set plan.  The thing about that, though, is that means Lyric isn't doing much of this on purpose at all.

Eventually, we have to stop.  Jhe h'Akribastes and Gerude are going to have to track us down, after all.  It's going to be awhile, though.  That much I can be certain of.  That means that I'll be alone with Lyric for a good bit of time.  We'll have nothing to do but talk.

I find a good set of rocks that doesn't look terribly infested with creatures that want to kill me, then bring my horse to a halt in a little nook hidden away from the rest of the desert.  It'll make a good camp, in fact.  A nice protected expanse of sand where we can light a little fire and not have it seen by the rest of the world.  Already I'm starting to think of it as home.  I dismount, then pull Lyric down to stand with his back to me.  "Stand still for a moment, would you?" I say nonchalantly.  I take a piece of charcoal from my belt, then trace it in a few quick, sweeping marks over the back of his cloak.  It takes effect immediately.  "Okay," I say, "now take a seat against one of the walls in here, and we'll settle down for awhile."

He looks at me, suspicion on his face, and then does as I ask.  I sit across from him, my back against the opposite wall, at ease  with the situation, a smile on my face.  For a moment, that ramps up his suspicion even more, but he forgets it and, just a bit, also relaxes.

"There."  I splay my fingers, then sigh.  "We've got to talk, Lyric.  Openly.  Gerude won't be back here for awhile, so I think you'll be safe saying what you need to say.  We've got to hurry, though.  He and Jhe h'Akribastes are excellent fighters and trackers.  We don't have forever."

He slumps forward, a look of defeat on his face.  He takes a deep breath in, then a deep breath out.  "How'd I give it away?" he asks, the tone of his voice betraying how crushed he feels.

"Heh.  Not really your fault, Lyric.  Jhe h'Logos teaches that you can account for your own actions, and you can obscure your actions and their motivations to the best of your ability, but you can't change the abilities of other Poets.  There's nothing to be done about how awesome I am."  I grin.  Lyric rolls his eyes, which is encouraging.  It means he's starting to relax.

He leans back against the wall, then closes his eyes, contemplating for a moment.  He opens them again, looks at me, and narrows his eyes.  "What did you write on me?"

I hold up my hands, caught.  "It's a simple measure for my own security.  It's hardly permanent.  If you'd trained in the Poet Hall as much as I did, you'd be able to throw off the effects without even touching it.  But since you haven't been trained in doing these things directly, I can use a cheap trick like that on you."  I keep the grin on my face.  "Don't feel bad about it.  If you really needed to counter it, then you would have managed to not have it drawn on you in the first place."

He looks rather nonplussed now.  "That's nice to know, thanks.  So... what is the thing, anyway?"

My grin doesn't so much as twitch.  It's plastered onto my face, a permanent feature, like a landmark.  "It's something teachers in the Poet Hall use to keep trainee Poets from getting into too much trouble.  It tends to block passive Poetry pretty well, and keeps em sorta quiet.  You new kids tend to be mouthy busybodies."

I swear, from his glare you'd think he's willing me to die where I sit.  Maybe he is, at that.  But it won't work now!  I've certainly taken care of that.

"I know you're working for us as a double-agent.  I'm still locking you down even though you're an ally, though, to prove a point.  You have to understand what you're up against if you're going to defend yourself against Poets from our own side, Lyric.  Hell, you need to take your own brother seriously."  I meet Lyric's eyes, the grin sliding from my face.  "He's determined to get you, Lyric.  He thinks you've turned against everything that your family stands for.  He's taking it more personally than I think the Judge would, if the Judge weren't obviously aware of your double-agent status."  At that, the seriousness in my visage cracks.  "It's not that he isn't un-subtle.  He wants to protect you very much, though, and it shows through a bit.  Maybe you should revise your plans and avoid his path as much as you can.  And avoid Gerude's, definitely.  It'll save you all a lot of trouble."

Lyric bites his lip and looks down.  "Maybe that is for the best, but what if I need to?  I have to do my Duty, even if it brings me into danger's path."

I laugh.  "How far into danger's path is your Father going to let you stray when you're directly in front of him?"

He really can't look at me now.  "Do you think that's best?"

I nod.  "You do your best work out of the nest, as far as I've seen.  Just go with your instincts.  Your Father will understand."

Lyric's expression is that of obvious relief.  He sinks back against the wall, so relaxed that he slides.  This has obviously been weighing on his mind.  "Tell him I love him."

"No problem."  I grin.  Then I hear the grind of sand and rock against boot behind me.  I turn to check if it's Jhe h'Akribastes or Gerude.  I didn't expect either to be here so soon.  Heck, I even checked with Poetry--

Something wraps around me in a neat coil, binding my arms.  I turn to face Lyric and see him standing over me, hands free.  There's a charcoal smudge on the rock wall where he was sitting, and it seems that my crude little seal has been broken.  He just grins down at me.  "I don't believe in mussing people's faces.  So you'll have to find a way to give yourself the bruise.  I'm sure you'll manage."  Then he starts walking out of the rock circle, away from me.

I raise an eyebrow.  "Why do I need a bruise?"

"Because," he says as he disappears from view, "the only way Gerude will believe I got away from you clean is if you tell him I overpowered you with sheer brute force."  Then I hear a horse snort, and hooves trotting away.

Oh bloody bones.  He's stolen my horse.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Gerude's eyes lock with mine as the dawn comes creeping up on the horizon.  He's glaring, but I'm not afraid.  He's angry, yes, but he's not using his Aim, and I trust Caerig and Kennit enough to keep him in line enough not to shoot me.  They like me for some reason, after all.

"He overpowered you."  My partner's eyebrow hooks upward in an expression much like his father tends to make, except that Gerude looks more exasperated than inquisitive.

"Yeah," I say, "He's pretty clever.  He got the drop on me."

Gerude turns his back on me with an exasperated sigh, then walks to the campfire.

I inwardly curse the nature of reality, much good as it will do me now.  Lyric inflected his parting words into Poetry, which meant that I had no choice but to use the excuse for his escape that I did.  Otherwise, as he said, Gerude wouldn't have believed me.  I wonder if Lyric even meant to do it.  He probably did.  He's a fast learner, that boy.

Well, Gerude believes me, which is the most important part.  It makes sense, at least.  Technically, what I said was the truth.  That means he doesn't consider anything amiss.  That means we can have some peace tonight.  Well, this morning.  Daytime is still our night.

Gerude gets comfortable in his bedroll.  I hear snores almost immediately. Sometimes I think that boy sleeps better on the ground than he does in a real bed.  I walk towards the opening in the circle of rock cliffs Lyric and I found, then spot the Judge.  He's leaning against a rock wall that faces out towards the fading night, but is still sheltered from sight.  He has first watch.  As I walk up to him, he nods to me.  There's a cigarette in his fingers, smoke drifting up from it as the morning air goes still.  His face is neutral and composed, but when I lean against the wall next to him, it takes on a note of surprise.

I scan over the desert for a moment.  No sign of Lyric, of course.  He's a smart boy.  Too smart sometimes, but considering how he just bested me, I'd naturally have that opinion of him.  I focus my thoughts back on the campground for a moment, on Gerude's snores, and on the fact that he's going to have a very, very deep sleep right now.  "Lyric uh... sent his love.  I'm sorry I let him get away like that, but it was for the best."

"Really."  The Judge's voice gives away nothing, and in fact invites me to go on about just what I might be hiding.  Typical of him.  I don't even have anything to hide, and yet I'm slightly nervous.

"Yes."  I take in a deep breath.  "I know what side Lyric's on.  I figured it out through no fault of his.  I understand why you let Gerude and I go on believing he was a spy.  I haven't told Gerude anything.  I imagine you'll want my help in convincing him to divert from Lyric's trail and eventually move on to Robinstead."

Jhe h'Akribastes's face is as stony as his voice was.  He gives no other response, so I go on.

"It's easily done.  We'll be back in Granny's neck of the woods in no time.  Lyric can go back to saving the world his own way."  After that, I hear an unexpected sound and I jump in response.

It's Jhe h'Akribastes's laughter.  Maybe it's a bitter laugh, I can't tell.  But it's certainly a relief to hear.  "It sounds as if you have it all well in hand, Poet."

I shrug.  "Glad I was able to help."  I snort.  "Though you've got one hell of a son in Lyric, sire."

He doesn't reply, but the grin the Judge makes says everything he has to say on the matter.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I really didn’t expect to go to bed with a beautiful woman beside me, so when I awake staring at one, for a moment I wonder where I am and, in fact, who I am.  Maybe I’m one of my future selves and I just forgot?  No, if there’s one thing I have grasp of, it’s my place in time.  I know when I am.

It’s just so strange to see how peaceful Katherine looks while she’s asleep.  I reach over to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek, but then of course Stevane speaks into my head.

Oh thank goodness you’re awake, Jhe h’leste, it turns out that whoa!  Oh I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t realize you had a thing going, sire!

I blink.  Did she see...?  Jhe Stevane, the apology should be mine, I should know to control my privacy better and leave a warning in the wards.

It’s fine, I’m sure whoever she is she’s very happy.  Let me know when you’re ready to discuss the matters of the day!  And then, blessed silence.

I look at Katherine, and meet her eyes.  She scowls.  She must have sensed a conversation on some level, and awoken from it.  I pat her head.  “My pardon.  It will be a busy day.  You stay there as long as you waAA--”

Katherine pulls me to her mouth by the hair, then cuts off any more verbal protests with her lips and tongue.  I relent from attempting speech - I daresay I couldn’t cobble words together right now anyway.

When she’s through with me, she lets go.  “Okay, we can get up now.”  She sits up, stretches with her arms over her head, and I enjoy the view while trying to remind myself just what it is that I’m doing this morning.

Ah.  That’s right.  My brother shall have tea with Jhe o’Radia again, and proposals shall be made and explanations given, with all hope.  “Would you like to have breakfast with your fathers today?”

Her eyes widen and she double-takes at me.  “Is that a joke?”

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I don't really hear much of what Alestere says to me on our way to breakfast.  I know he talks - Alestere always talks.  But whatever he says slides into the ether that's fogged up all my thoughts.  Daddy and Father?  Having breakfast together?  And not because the Law required them to have a custody discussion?  That in itself is enough to floor me, but... well, all the times my parents have met, it's been without me, because they were discussing me.  That's a big part of the reason 'Sy's raised me for so much of my life - for whatever reason, Daddy and Father could never find it in themselves to get along.  I'd visit Audiva Rocale every now and then to be with Father, but those visits were so few, and caused so many arguments...

And, well, it's been hard on Daddy, all these years.  He's had me within reach for so long, always there for a hug or a chat, but it's meant that when I had a problem with them two and how they couldn't get along, well... Father was never around to get angry at.  Daddy had to deal with the bulk of it, and usually that meant 'Sy did, because Daddy wasn't allowed to answer questions about the custody.  And talking with 'Sy about the Law is its own intense frustration which I don't often like to indulge in.

I don't think I've been with both of my parents at once since I was a baby, and I can't remember those days.  For me, this is the first time.

Alestere taps my shoulder.  We're here, but he holds up his hand as a signal for me to wait before going in.  He's listening to someone else.  He nods, listening, then smiles.  He focuses back on me after a couple of moments.  His voice is low, almost a whisper, so that we're not overheard inside the suite.  "Stevane says the table setting is all ready for us.  Jhe o'Radia has yet to arrive.  She'd been trying to make sure everything was timed so that I arrived before he did.  Apparently their last meeting was tense, and Ebrelle's been a bit of a handful this morning, as she expected."  He blinks, then laughs softly.  "I didn't mean to mention that last part, but apparently her aggravation's seeped over a bit this morning.  Ah, it seems that it's less aggravation and more excitement over what she and Ebrelle are proposing to Jhe o'Radia."

I blink.  "Wait, what exactly is going on?  You just said this was going to be breakfast."

He winks at me, revelling in his secrecy in a way that makes me want to pinch him.  Then he opens the door and waves me in with no further explanation.

Father has his back to me, looking in a full-length mirror to check over his appearance.  From Stevane's expression, it must be his tenth time in a row.  "I told you, I can fix your hair just perfect if you'll just... stoop or something."

He frowns into the mirror, checking over his makeup.  Stevane sighs, drags up a chair, and then stands on top of it to attempt to reach the top of Father's head.  She adjusts a flower that's been tucked into one of the elaborate buns Father fancies.  "There."  She sighs, hands on her hips, and then looks him over from her new-found height.  "If you redo your makeup again, I'm going to set your eyebrows on fire."

Father snorts, completely unthreatened, and continues examining his makeup.  "I'll just repaint them, dear."

Stevane scowls, but seems satisfied that Father isn't going to mess any of her work up, so she climbs down from her chair and drags it back to the breakfast table.  She then walks up to us, gives us a curtsy, and makes an obscene gesture at Father.  "He'll be about thirty more minutes.  This is around the time that he starts talking to his reflection."

"We're just having a moment alone, with intelligent company."  Father's tone is so haughty and aloof that I'm not entirely sure if he's joking.  "Dear brother, I was wondering if there was some sort of kit that comes with Poets that you forgot to furnish me with?  After some evaluation of what it is that I'm dealing with, I have concluded that you should equip their keepers with tranquilizers."

"He's mostly angry that he lost an argument with a pot of flowers yesterday evening."  Stevane nods to me.  "Jhe Katherine, are you well?  I haven't bumped into you in awhile."  A genuine smile peeks out of the aggravation on Stevane's face.

Father freezes in his mirror-glued deliberations, then edges to the side so that his reflection isn't blocking mine.  He turns in one smooth motion, robes swirling around his feet and hair swishing behind him.  His green irises seem so much larger with his hair white and his eyes wide.  They lock with mine, emotion peeking out of them, and then they flick up to Alestere's, a question in them.

"Jhe Katherine decided to join us for breakfast.  I thought it seemed appropriate, especially considering your proposal for today."  Alestere puts his hand on my shoulder, possibly as a comfort to me.  Do I need comforting right now?  Am I nervous?  I could very well be.  Two parents in the same room, and me between?  What the heck could bring them together?

Father glides forward after a moment of hesitation, then looks down at me.  He's keeping his distance.  He's tended to do that, after his cleansing.  But then, apparently he's been doing that with everyone.  I think Stevane's only been able to get so close because he knows she'll set him on fire if he backs away.  Still, I'm tired of being edged away from.  I reach forward and take his wrist, then tug on it a bit.  Father steps closer.  I smile up at him.

He curls one arm around my shoulder, then slides his fingers through my hair.  "You get more beautiful every day, you know."  He sighs.  "It's good to see you here.  Shall we settle down and wait for your other father?"

* * *
Lyric
* * *

I am not altogether sure of where I am going, but right now I'm feeling alright about things for the first time since I met up with Myles and started this whole desert trek.  Maybe it was all a bad idea to start, but at least it's over with.  I helped Myles find out more information, at least, and that'll help out everyone back in Radia.

Where to next, though?  I'm going to have to check in with my Lady sometime to report to her.  I've been out here long enough that I think I can just get on with that.  Maybe after this she'll give me an idea of what she and Nul are planning, and I can pass that along and wrap all of this mess up.  I hope so, at least.  I don't want this dragging out forever.  For one, I don't want to be on the opposite side from my family and friends for much longer.  This is getting harrowing.

Surely there is a reprieve here and there?  Elric's thoughts alight in between my own, unexpected but very, very welcome.  I reply with a rush of relief and enthusiasm.  Oof!  I hear him laugh.  You almost knocked me off of my bed, you know.

I don't relent.  It feels like it's been years since our minds last touched.  Have you been okay?  I haven't heard from you in so long!

There's the sensation of a sad smile.  I'm well enough.  I couldn't speak to you much recently because I would have interrupted how events played out.  You needed to go where you went, see what you saw, and lead others where you led them.  I would have gotten in the way, apparently.  He doesn't let that last part weigh down his spirits.  It should be you and I from here on out.  Go to the southwest.  Look for a spring.  Things will go faster that way.

I raise an eyebrow.  More surprises, dear Elric?

Life's full of them.  There's almost the sensation of a head-pat.  And otherwise it's no fun, as I'm sure you've taught many people by now.

I try not to curse him for being a Poet.  I'm not exactly innocent myself, on that count.

* * *

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

It's been a surprisingly pleasant morning, once breakfast started. Sure, I'm running on very little sleep, nerves, and about a gallon of coffee.  But I'm a natural morning person, and what's more, I'm used to all three factors by now.

But what's really picking me up is being here.  Stevane's countering Ebrelle's acidity very well this morning.  I think having Alestere here makes a huge difference - it means the dynamic isn't just between Ebrelle and I, and she doesn't have to constantly referee.  She can focus all of her efforts on Ebrelle.  Alestere himself is the perfect referee, really - he keeps distracting me from my points of annoyance.  And then there's Katherine here, which means both Ebrelle and I have something to smile about.  Really, I can't remember the last time I smiled around him for a good reason.  Probably that was back when Katherine was a very small girl, and things were a lot different between Ebrelle and I.

...My mind is wandering.  I pay attention to the conversation again.  Obviously it's time for me to refill my coffee.

Alestere nods to Stevane.  "I think your uncle is ready for you to propose your idea to him."

"Oh, yes," I say, "I've been wondering what it is that brought us all here."  I really haven't, it actually completely slipped my mind, but I'm fine with letting it seem like I've been thinking important things all this time.  Recovering from what the Crown was doing to me makes thought a more wandering process than usual, but at least thought is occurring, and all the thoughts are my own.

Stevane sits straight up, then shifts around a bit as she deals with being the center of attention.  She looks over to Katherine, then grins.  "You know, I didn't plan to bring you into this, but it was a really good idea.  In fact, it solves a lot of the problems I still hadn't worked out!"  She raises her finger in the air in a way that's startlingly reminiscent of Elete and Alestere's gestures.  "So!  Jhe 'Brelle and I were thinking about... well... um."  Her previous energy drains out a bit, and she glances over to Alestere.  She bites her lip.  "I need help."

Alestere nods to her graciously.  "I understand.  The first part is rather difficult to deliver.  But I think your Uncle will take it better than you'd expect, so why don't you go ahead with what you were going to say?"

She blushes, looks rather troubled, and then swallows her nerves down and faces me.  "Jhe 'Brelle can't go back to Audiva Rocale for a long time. He can't do it and it's not his fault. But we think he can do a lot of good while he's here, so please try to take it well."

I take in a deep breath, close my eyes, and nod.  "I expected as much.  I'm not angry."  I open my eyes.  Stevane's expression is that of a person who's not yet sure if she's lucked out.  "I'm more interested in what you two plan to do in the meantime.  I'll handle Chethar if there's a problem, but with over half a year of time left, there's no reason to worry about that yet."  It's strange to say that so blithely, but after the problems I've dealt with in the past few months, making Chethar fuss less over our business seems like an easy prospect.  "So, what do I have to look forward to?"

Stevane grins in response, which is something that sends more fear in me than she'd ever like to know.  I think possibly it's her connection with Ebrelle that does it.  They both have a talent for appearing to be up to no good.  Ebrelle, in contrast, looks away and pretends not to be interested in this branch of the conversation.  Which is, of course, the most telling signal that he's direly invested in what's about to be discussed.

"I know Jhe 'Brelle has gotten into trouble in the past for his research, and his work in his palace laboratory.  But considering what influences he was under at the time, it's quite remarkable how much he managed to discover, and what advances he was able to make.  While it seems horrible to be able to suppress Poetry with collars, it... implies that, through his research and experimentation, he was able to find out a lot about Poetry through methods that Poets had not yet attempted.  Having been one of the people collared, I can say that I learned a lot from having to disable the damn thing myself.  Poetry's frustrating to use to find out about things - sometimes it goes awry or gets vague, or is led astray by forces we have no way of knowing about.  And using Aim can only work for very specific cases that fall within the Law, and it gets kind of dangerous because you can end up shooting something.  If we'd had a way of examining some of our problems from a different angle, maybe things would have been a lot easier.  We could have saved some trouble."  She tosses up her hands, gesturing a bit in a way that probably helps get rid of some of her nervous energy more than it actually helps make a point.  "I'm kind of wandering away from where we were going.  There's some things Poetry and the Law can't examine or explain.  Ebrelle wants to research them.  Here, in a laboratory."

My eyes flick over to Ebrelle.  He looks like he's about to swallow a frog.  Even Alestere looks a bit nervous, and he already knew what Stevane was going to propose.  Katherine looks intrigued, but in a  calculated way that makes me unsure of whether she's Aiming for Stevane's head.

I take in a deep breath.  "Well then, what does he propose to research?"  I look at Ebrelle as I say it.

"We want to take the contents of Xen Xaillyndesse's old laboratory and examine them."  Stevane looks a bit queasy herself as she says it.  "Jhe 'Brelle was researching Arms a little before he was captured.  Not the brightest approach, mind you, but I think someone needs to take those... those rusted Arms that the ex-Kommissar had in there and see what happened to them.  And there was a lot of other stuff in there too.  A lot of stuff that... excuse me."  Stevane has been slowly turning green while trying to explain herself.  "Urp."

Ebrelle pats her hand.  "You don't have to talk about it."  She sighs, and Ebrelle winces.  "Really, Stevane.  I can feel myself how much the place sickened you."

She frowns.  "It'd sicken any Armed.  I just... don't like thinking about that... guy."  She rubs her forehead.  "We need someone who knows a lot about Arms.  Someone okay with going into that place and cleaning out what we need to examine.  I can't go in."  She looks up at me, sheepish.  "If it's even okay with you."

I shrug.  "It's not my land, it's Ebrelle's.  He can decide who goes there and picks at it.  Or are you asking because of Katherine?  She can decide where she goes herself, I'm not stopping her."

Ebrelle looks at me as if I've grown a second head, and finally he speaks up.  "This is your land.  My laboratory would be here."

"Ah.  Yes."  I wave my hand dismissively.  "Jhe h'Logos, dedicate some of your Hall space as a laboratory."

Alestere looks at me as if I've grown a third head.  I'm not sure if it's the impulse decision or the fact that I've saddled him with the responsibility.  I try not to grin.  "Just like that?"

I nod.  "Just like that.  Your space will be most suitable, I'd think, and it's really the most warded space in the Kingdom, outside of my own Palace, which I'm not donating towards this endeavor.  More than that, it's probably the only area in which that much madness will make any sense, don't you think?"  I hold up my palms, fending off a protest.  "I didn't mean it to offend."  Well, I did, but I don't have to say that.  "If Ebrelle does his experiments anywhere else, it'll attract attention.  He doesn't need the wrong sort of attention now - from Chethar, or from Nul.  The Poet Hall is a distraction in and of itself, and if this is done right, I think none shall notice just what we are doing here."

"We?"  Ebrelle raises an eyebrow.

I raise an eyebrow back at him, meeting his eyes.  "I'm not about to let you do this without my watching."  I grin.  "I've enough reason in that it sounds far too interesting for me to miss."

Ebrelle ignores me and steeples his fingers.  "If we are to do this, then there are logistics to consider.  I'll need direct contact with the current Kommissar, which I do not currently--"

"Ah, about that," I say, smoothly interjecting.  I draw a letter out from a pocket in the lining of my jacket.  "He left a missive for your eyes only.  I suppose that might help things along."

My ex-nemesis looks at me at is I'm a fox with the keys to his henhouse dangling from my snout.  "It might, depending on what it is about.  I suppose I should read it?"  He proffers his hand.  I give him the letter.

I nod.  "I think it'd help.  It's about his spies within the Poet Hall that he'd like you to get in contact with."

The glare he gives me almost burns my ears off.  I just shrug.

"If he didn't expect me to read it, he shouldn't have given it to me.  Besides, it's good to know that Aaren Voitre is an active double-agent.  It makes sense that 'Sy would put him to work drafting someone to spy for us, while he's out of commission."

Both Katherine and Alestere look at me with wide eyes and alarm.  Katherine has a lot more anger in her expression.  I'm willing to guess that neither of them knew about such a thing, which is interesting.  'Sy likes to hide his actions.  It doesn't surprise me that he wouldn't tell Alestere, but Katherine as well?  I'm a bit thrown off of my usual cavalier disregard for social mores.

Ebrelle rips the envelope and reads furiously.  Once he finishes, Katherine grabs it from him and reads it herself.  Alestere peeks over her shoulder casually.  Stevane sits back and gloats since apparently she managed to read the letter off of Ebrelle's own thoughts.

"I wonder if the Kommissar intended his letter to have such a wide audience," Ebrelle says in a droll tone.  Katherine attempts to look sheepish as she finishes her read.  Alestere keeps a perfect poker face.

Stevane shrugs.  "Jhe Calyx was pretty clever.  Otherwise he would have gotten killed off by his former boss a long time ago.  And he acts like a pretty nice guy when there's a knife to his neck, so he's shrewd.  And really, who would give a letter to Unkie without expecting him to read it?"

Katherine narrows her eyes.  "That's essentially the same as outright telling Radia that one of our agents is his spy."

"Yup," I say.  "He doesn't believe Aaren is really working for Audiva Rocale.  I figure he's trying to see if we kill off Aaren.  Otherwise he'll know Aaren is a double-agent.  That's what I would do."

Alestere stares at me open-mouthed.  "You say that so offhand!"

I spread my hands.  "It is what it is.  If we're going to ask the Kommissar for any favors, we need to iron this out, yes?  Why don't you ask Jhe Voitre to come and contribute to the discussion?  Chances are that he'll have some contributory input on his father's research methods anyway."

Katherine looks at me with open worry written on her face.  "That's... not the best idea, considering his mental state."

Alestere sighs.  "No, he'll be fine.  I'll just ask Jhe Emily to come in and assist him.  She'll keep him calm, same as Stevane has been doing for my brother."

I raise an eyebrow.  "And would making Jhe Emily a part of this discussion be the best idea?"

"Oh yes," Alestere says, rising to leave the room.  "She is with all likelihood the fake spy that Aaren recruited, after all, so Calyx will want her dead too."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I exit the room with no further dramatic pronouncements.  I wonder if Jhe Emily shall be with Jhe Aaren in his room, or if she's elsewhere?  They don't need to be physically near each other to be as connected as they are, which is the beauty of such a connection.  But for the purposes of our meeting, I need Jhe Emily with us.

My brother's door opens behind me.  I turn around to see who has emerged.  Jhe Katherine glares down the hall at me, then closes the door behind her.  "You," she says with a glare.

I nod, clasping my hands behind my back.  "Me."

She takes the opportunity to catch up with me, then hooks her hand around my elbow.  She promptly swings me sideways on that pivot point, using some sort of applied force that I don't quite understand but am sure is something she learned in combat.  I end up with my back against the wall, but it doesn't quite thump hard enough to concern anyone on the other side of said wall.  It doesn't hurt, especially with the padding my robes give me, but it certainly grabs my attention.  That seems to have been her aim.

She glares up at me, fists clutching the lapels of my robes.  "We need to talk."

I raise both eyebrows.  "In the hall?"

She frowns, looking to the side.  Then her eyes flick up to mine again.  "Your office."

I nod, place my arm around her shoulders, and bring us there.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

"Sit," I issue it like a command, as if he's a subordinate officer.  Jhe h'Logos looks at me, his face all patience, but he doesn't budge.  I am trying to order him around in his own quarters, in his own Hall no less.  I take in a deep breath, hold it, and apologize on the exhale.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it that way."

He nods.  "It's understandable, considering how high-strung you are right now."  He steps away, then gestures at one of the plush armchairs.  "Would you like a seat yourself?  It might relax us both."

I nod, and take a seat as he does the same.  "It's not your fault, but damnit Alestere, you've got a bad habit of bumping into my sore spots.  And not just for massage purposes."  I scowl, trying not to let mild anger turn into rage.  It's not his fault.  "Just tell me: are you doing all of this stuff with Aaren right now because of your future knowledge, or because you think it's actually a good idea?"

That gives Jhe h'Logos pause.  As well it should, the pompous know-it-all.  Though, to his credit, he looks as if he's actually giving the question some thought as opposed to shrugging it off like Elete loved to do.  "I am not sure what you want me to tell you."  He phrases that hesitantly.

"The truth."

He shrugs.  "I... honestly just thought Jhe o'Radia's suggestion was the sound one.  It's better to get everyone together to talk and communicate properly, and I don't think it'll be that awkward.  If it were going to, then possibly my future self would have intervened with advice, but..." He tilts his head to emphasize the shrug.  "He hasn't."  He sees my expression, then looks taken aback.  "I'm sorry, Jhe Katherine.  I actually don't know for a fact whether it will work out with Aaren.  If you want me to ask--"

"No!"  I bark it before I can catch myself.  "Sorry.  Sorry.  I didn't mean to be so rude.  I just..."  I bury my face against my palms and shake my head.  "I don't like how it went in the old days, with Elete making us ride on the hopes of whatever spooky premonition drifted through his head, insisting that everything had to be the way he saw it, but never giving us a reason for anything.  I'm just tired of all that dancing."  I sigh, shuddering.  My palms are wet.  I didn't even know I had a good cry coming.  "It's better to make decisions because you think they're right."

"And what of Poetry?"  Alestere poses the question calmly, but there is the slightest edge to his voice.

"Poetry happens regardless of whether I pay attention to it.  But just doing something ridiculous or stupid because it's fated or whatever... that isn't good Poetry, Alestere.  It's just... bad plotting!"  I glare up at him.  Through the mist of my tears, I swear I see Elete for a moment.  In the next blink, he's Alestere again.

He looks sheepish.  "Have I really been writing that badly?"  Sheepish may not be the right word.  I can't tell, but those might have cut him a little deeper than he's letting show.

"No.  Elete did."  I sigh and wipe the tears off of my cheeks.  "I shouldn't be blaming you for that.  I suppose I've always been a little mad about it, but getting mad at him never helped anything.  He'd just turn it against us, somehow.  So when I see you making decisions that seem a little questionable, and you're so confident about them, I start worrying that you're just barreling down your own path like Elete would, insisting you're right.  It's not fair to you, but..."  I hiss through my teeth, balling my fists against my face again.  Then I feel an arm around me, and a shoulder to lean against.  I sigh against Alestere's robes as he pets my hair.

"You're not just talking about Elete, are you?" he whispers.

I bite my lip.  "I suppose I'm not.  It's just easier to condemn the dead."

He makes a light chuckle.  "The dead can't make more of the same mistakes, true.  But they also can't make up for them."

I snort.  "'Sy never makes up for his own mistakes.  He just finds another war to fight and leaves me picking up the corpses on his old battlefield."

"Do you want to hear about his future?"

"No.  Have you been supporting me because you know something about it?"

He tsks.  "No."  He rises.  "And that is quite unfortunate, because I should love to help him.  But..."  Alestere's breath catches in his chest as he picks his words.  I look up, and see his face very pinched.  "I see less and less of it lately.  The future."  He grimaces more deeply.  I trace his gaze to the Crown, locked away in a glass cabinet of antique writing implements and gilded old books.

"Would it help?"

Alestere shakes his head.  "No one should wear it right now.  Not until later.  But I don't know why, and as the future grows ever murky... I wonder if the two are connected."  He scowls a little deeper.  "I'm the Blue Lord.  Shouldn't I know?"

I shrug.  "You know enough not to do something foolish."

"Oh?"  He turns away from me, ostensibly to adjust his hair in a mirror hanging on a wall.  "Then why did you bring me in here?"

I do feel a bit chastised by that.  "I had to be sure that you were making decisions for the right reasons.  I'm sorry.  No one should have to pay for Elete's mistakes besides Elete."

"Maybe he does," murmurs Alestere.

"What?"

He shakes his head.  "Nothing that matters to anyone who isn't in the Void."  He gives one last toss to his hair, then sighs.  "You have every right to question my decisions, Katherine.  Thank you for reminding me that it's no crime to think with my present's mind instead of my future's advice."  He straightens his shoulders, taking a more assertive posture.  "Is there anything you want to tell me before we visit Jhe Aaren?"

I rise from the armchair.  "I have a bad memory of him."  I rub the back of my neck.  "It's something I patched together after the fact.  I remember him standing over me as I last died.  It was really Xen's face.  They have a family resemblance.  That's something important to remember.  You're going to be around several people who actually knew Xen."  She laughs.  "I guess dying is a good excuse, but I should have still remembered that Aaren's much taller than his father."

Alestere laughs.  "That he is."  He bows, gesturing for me to precede him.  "I think we have given Jhe Emily enough time to join Jhe Aaren in his room.  Thank you for your words of advice."

I squeeze his arm.  "Let's talk more later."  Then, we go.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

"This is the other reason I came with you," Katherine says to me as we stand at the door to Jhe Aaren's quarters.  "I need to talk to Aaren."

"Oh?" I ask, my hand on the doorknob.

"Yeah.  Armed business.  Sorry for imposing on you.  I realize it's a bit rude, butting in the middle of your Poet business."

I smile, the suggestion genuinely amusing me.  "Not at all.  I think one goes well in hand with the other."  I open the door and gestures for Jhe Katherine to precede me.

She strides forward, fire and justified wrath in her gait.  I follow quietly, nodding to the two Poets within, and close the door behind us.

Jhe Aaren is in his bed, sitting up, looking a bit pale.  His Xaillyndesse heritage and prolonged lack of exposure to the outdoors would explain that paleness beautifully, but there's an ill tinge to it that I can attribute to neither.  Jhe Aaren is a bright boy in many ways so I can only assume that he has a premonition of what's coming.  Jhe Katherine stands in front of him, fists on her hips, eyes blazing.

Jhe Emily almost rises from her seat at the table, then glances at me and settles.  Is this okay?  She doesn't seem too alarmed, but there's definitely an edge to her tone.

I raise my hand, then sit in the other chair.  Some official business.  She's more angry at someone else than she is at him.  I expect nothing of dire consequence, but you might want to help calm Jhe Voitre if it seems necessary.

For the life of me, I think I see a smirk on Jhe Emily's face.  She quickly composes herself.  Of course, Jhe h'Logos.

Katherine's fire dies down just a tad, as she seems to compose herself as well before speaking.  Her mouth twists to the side.  "Jhedeinous Voitre, you do realize that while in the chain of command you report directly to Jhe Wysthaven, you are also subordinate to my command as well, especially in the absence of Jhe h'Akribastes?"

The boy nods.  I note that he gets just a tinge paler, but otherwise stays calm.

"Then tell me just what in ordinary mission protocols inspired you to draft Jhe Emily Muiredach into Black Ops without asking the permission of anyone?"  She narrows her eyes.  "All the paperwork crosses my desk, Aaren.  I of all people would know."

Jhe Aaren doesn't look away, and he doesn't panic, either.  He just closes his eyes and sighs.  "I'm at liberty to explain all of that in front of our current audience?"

Katherine nods.  "Whatever you need to say is in complete confidence here."

"Alright," he says.  "On the question of protocols, you do have me there.  Nothing in my Armed training suggested that such an action was a good idea.  I have been taught, however, to deal with weird situations in the best way that I can.  I'm sure that when Jhe h'Akribastes asked me to recruit a double-agent within our forces as a way to restart my previous work, he wasn't taking into account that Emily pretty much hears everything I think."  He shrugs.  "He seemed to think I could selectively hide things from her.  But I don't expect him to know how Poets work.  He's the Judge, not the Poet King."  Katherine pressures him with a look that isn't a glare, but is definitely an interrogation.  "Okay, okay.  I didn't ask him to clarify.  I... I was still pretty hazy at the time, and I wanted to make him happy.  I wanted to be able to do something for the Armed, even without... without being well enough for it."

Katherine's expression softens a little.  She must know as well as I what Aaren really meant to say he was 'without'.  It would be clear to anyone familiar with his situation that Schiphael's absence has scarred Aaren in more ways than the physical.  "I understand you were eager to take on a mission, and that Jhe Emily would of course be privy to those details.  Why choose her as a spy?"

"I honestly thought she would be good at it."  Jhe Aaren's expression is a little hurt.  "She's a part of everything already, and she's in danger already, being associated with me.  I'd have put her in more danger by bringing in another Black ops agent who wasn't familiar with her.  We'd have a Poet constantly listening in on our conversations.  I don't think it would have gone over very well."

"I'm not accusing Jhe Emily of being a poor spy."  Katherine sighs, putting her hand to her brow.  "It's just a terrible situation, and I suppose we can't ask for it to have happened differently.  Jhe Voitre, Jhe Muiredach, you've both been sniffed out as double-agents.  Somehow the Kommissar knew something was up.  He's called Radia's bluff by exposing you both as his spies, and is waiting to see if we kill you for it."

Jhe Emily grasps my hand.  Her face is calm.  Aaren's is strained.  I can feel her sending him support, and I send my own to her.  It's not a pretty situation to be in, and they both need what help can be given.

"Well."  The shake in Jhe Aaren's voice becomes a nervous chuckle.  "I suppose that's the good news, Jhe Katherine?"

She stiffens her expression.  "The good news is that we're going to try to ensure you both live.  Now come with us - Jhe o'Radia himself is discussing your future longevity with Jhe o'Audiva Rocale.  You are permitted to be part of the think tank.  We figure it's only fair, since it's your own lives we're trying to save."  She steps away, considerably less anger in her frame.  The Judge isn't in the room, after all, so there's nothing here that she can take her anger out on in a way that would be justified by her standards.

Jhe Aaren's fingers clutch his bedsheets for a moment.  "I think I can do that," he says, the statement half a lie.

I rise.  "I can assist you in getting there.  I'd prefer to stay out of the hallway now anyway, considering your current predicament.  Jhe Katherine, can you see to it that Jhe Emily makes it in?  I'll poke ahead at the wards to ensure a smooth leap."

"Sure," she says, then steps over to Jhe Emily.

As my Poet rises from her seat, Jhe Aaren makes a game attempt to stand.  I end up pulling him up.  I'd thought him rather more recovered than this, but I imagine the news he's received in here has shaken him a great deal.  "Alright.  Follow me."

I move space around Aaren and myself.  Katherine follows.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

Things got a little awkward in here once Jhe h'Leste and Jhe Katherine left.  Both Unkie and Jhe 'brelle's moods tanked, and suddenly things got really quiet.  At first, Jhe 'brelle tried to stammer out some sort of question about Jhe Rahellene, but that conversation fizzled out quickly.  I guess they both are uncomfortable talking about it.

Well, it makes sense, they've spent years and years in a custody battle over one daughter, and then Jhe 'brelle pretty much kept the other one in a fishtank for a decade.  It makes for a rocky start.

Heck, they can't even look at each other.  I don't quite know what Unkie's thinking, but I can tell Jhe 'brelle is trying not to think about certain things--

blond hair trailing across the sheets like spun straw, so light and airy, so unlike the cuffs around his--

WHOA.  Okay, someone's got issues, and I should probably talk with Jhe 'brelle about that at some point, but there's no way I want to see my Uncle naked in anyone's bed.  I mean, his royal Court attire is pretty hot, but I like it on him, not off.  Ew.

...Let's try to get this group thinking about other things.

I pat Jhe 'brelle's arm.  He jolts, looking up at me, and I can see the image of Unkie's face during much different circumstances jump in his head, then skate to the side, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of guilt, and the tiny bit of fear that I might have seen it.  I just smile like I didn't.  "Well, go ahead and tell him about your lab!  We might as well get started."

Something in Jhe 'brelle tries to be nervous and awkward at first, but I said the magic word: lab.  It didn't take long to figure out that makes him talk without much hesitation or even much mental screening for his less socially acceptable ideas.  Still, he and Unkie have record-level nerves around each other, and it's not proving to be as much of a panacea as I thought it would be.  I suppose I need to find a place for him to start.  "Tell him about that idea you had for the soap!"

Unkie blinks, innocent confusion on his face.  "Soap?"

I grin.  Jhe 'brelle smiles as well, that twinkle growing in his eye.  "Ah!  That one would be quite simple.  I think that's when I realized that we'd need a foolproof ventilation system, and most preferably a way to ensure that the exhaust air is disposed of.  The smell will give too much away if we're trying to be discreet, and would also be highly unpleasant to expose a population to."

Unkie looks over to me, I suppose to see if he should be worried about what Jhe 'brelle is talking about.  I just grin.

Jhe 'brelle rises, as he tends to need to stand up and gesture when he's talking about his favorite ideas.  "I was simply thinking that there can be quite a lot of waste in a large city.  And waste is a shame.  Everything should be put to a proper use, and I believe even useless things aspire to be useful.  And then we get to soap, you see?  You always need soap in an Empire.  Always a lot of things that need cleaning."  Then, he spreads his arms.  "And, well, what is the filth of society?"

My uncle puts his hand on his chin.  "Tax accountants."

"No!"  Jhe 'brelle pauses for a moment.  "Well, yes, but that's a problem I haven't solved yet.  No, criminals!  Criminals that just sit around in cells being useless, taking up room, eating food, giving the Judge yet another reason to harass innocent, well-meaning rulers."

"Yeah!"  Unkie punches his hand into his fist.  "Those nasty criminals, always pissing 'Sy off!"

"Exactly!"  Jhe 'brelle raises his index finger into the air.  "So what better way to clean up society than to render criminals into soap?"

Silence settles over the room as Unkie tries to digest that.  His face is unreadable.  He leans forward, putting his hand against his forehead, muttering something.  I uh... really hope he's just thinking very hard.

Jhe 'brelle glances over to me, then back at Unkie.  Too much?

I don't answer.  I just wait.

Unkie uncovers his eyes, then sits up.  He's still staring into the distance.  "It's brilliant," he whispers.  "We could sell it."

I'm not sure if I've ever seen Jhe 'brelle quite so excited.  He opens his mouth to launch into another one of the brilliant ideas he's come up with since yesterday when we hatched the laboratory idea.  Then the room has four more people in it from out of nowhere, and he loses his train of thought.

Oh, Jhe h'leste and Jhe Katherine are back, along with Jhe Emily and Jhe Aaren--

I wonder why I just Aimed at him.  He flinches back, even though I'm not holding a weapon.  His eyebrows then burst into flame.

...Daddy always taught me that only guilty people duck.

* * *

"I must say," Jhe 'brelle mutters to me, "that is a bit of an improvement.  Without eyebrows, he doesn't look much like his father anymore."  He pats me on the shoulder.

Jhe h'leste, on the other hand looks down at me with a disapproving arch of his perfectly-intact eyebrows.  It's all he really needs to say.

I sigh, looking down at my toes as I slump over in my chair.  I've been told to have a seat across the room from Jhe Aaren, while Jhe Katherine does her bit with the healing.  Apparently I'm supposed to think about what I've done.  "Well, I suppose that was it, then.  I'm sorry.  I never really expected it to be a um, problem."

There's a bit of an awkward silence.  I can't really meet either of their eyes.  I'm especially ashamed that I lost my manners in front of Jhe h'Leste.  I don't really know what came over me.

"Strange," he says.  "This is the first time you've acted so guilty about it.  Katherine can give him new eyebrows, you know."

I nod.  "I know."

"And he's probably already forgiven you, considering he made the mistake of starting to duck in the first place.  Now that I recall, in fact, haven't you set him on fire a couple times before, for... well, not much of any reason, I presume?"

I bite my lip, blushing.  "He looked at me funny once.  And I think he was in on a joke that Lute played on me one time.  And some other day he was laughing in a really annoying way."  I twist my mouth to the side.  "But I mean, those are good reasons.  I didn't really want to set his eyebrows on fire today.  I guess I saw him and thought 'the old Kommissar' and really wanted to set his eyebrows on fire."

"Easily remedied, then."  Jhe 'brelle's voice rolls between us, laden with amusement.  "Just wait for Katherine to grow his eyebrows back, then set them on fire on purpose, and then you'll feel better."

That's starting to appear a valid solution to me when I notice that Jhe h'Leste is scowling at Jhe 'brelle.  I'm not sure if I've ever seen such a cross look on his face.  "That isn't in any way a proper solution.  Jhe Stevane should apologize, and then both parties should move on without any further pyromantic disruption."

Jhe 'brelle sighs dramatically, then shrugs as if he doesn't care about the situation anymore.  Are you alright, my dear?  I don't remember when I've sensed you as upset as you were a few moments ago.

I'll be fine.  Just mistaken identity.  Silly, really, his hair's all wrong and he's not short, or domineering, or awful.  I'll apologize and we can get on with this.  I stand up.  Jhe h'Leste puts his hand on my shoulder.  I'm not really sure why until I notice just how tense I still am.  We take a few steps, and then he stops me before I get more than a few paces away from my chair.

Are you really going to be okay with him in this discussion, Stevane?  There's none of the disapproval I expect, and really I suppose it's silly to expect that from him.  There's just concern.

I shrug.  "Not much way for me to find out until I apologize."

Jhe Aaren is also in a chair.  Jhe Katherine is picking at his eyebrows to make sure they've grown back in right.  The boy looks up at me past Jhe Katherine's fingers and I swear he flinches again, but I manage to hold the impulse in this time.  Damnit, why do people have to make it so hard for me?  If he flinches so much, no wonder I want to set him on fire--

I blink.  Nope, he's not flinching anymore, but I still want to torch him.  Apparently the look on my face says it all, because he says, "Um... is someone going to stop her this time, or is this my punishment?"

Jhe h'Leste squeezes my shoulder, looks at my face, and then tugs me back.  "Jhe Stevane--"

"No, let me look."  I glare at Jhe Aaren's face.  It helps a little.  "I'm not gonna hurt him right now."

"Right now," Jhe Aaren says dryly.  Jhe Emily lets a giggle slip.

I frown.  Huh, I guess the resemblance is just setting me off that badly.  He really does look like... no, he doesn't, but he could look the part.  I'm seeing the potential for it.  "The Kommissar isn't going to kill you."

"Well, that's pleasant to hear," Jhe Aaren says.  Then he frowns and looks at me a little more closely.  "Wait, that was really true.  What do you know?"

I squint at his face a little and turn my head.  "Shave a bit, trim the hair, dress in the uniform and stand in the right places and you'd be perfectly useful to Jhe Calyx.  He needs someone in that capacity, and you're the only one who could perfectly convince anyone that you're the old Kommissar.  Jhe Calyx lures out all the backstabbers that were loyal to his predecessor, you lose your death sentence.  Jhe Emily keeps you sane.  It's brilliant."  I stand up straight, hand on my chin.  "Except everyone will think this is the worst idea."

Unkie smacks his fist into his palm.  "That's brilliant!"

Well, almost everyone.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I've argued against this idea about seven ways by this point, but it hasn't stopped Daddy or Stevane from having that mad gleam in their eyes, and I think Father might be close to that point too, when he cares to make his opinion heard on the matter.  Aaren and Emily are neutral, as far as I can tell, which is ridiculous.  They should be the most against it.  At least Alestere's backing me up on this.

"I do realize that we'd be sparing them a death sentence, but as many dangers as the solution carries... it's like delivering them into another death sentence."  He's kept his tone level this entire time, speaking as the voice of reason.  That's more than I can say for myself, to be honest... but this is utter foolishness and I'm not going to send them in to die.

"This is ridiculous," I say.  "The Kommissar is going to kill them once he has them.  We have no reason to trust him with anyone's life."

Daddy clears his throat.  "I do admit that it depends on the life in question, but I must state a difference of opinion there.  We merely must convince him that the life in question is worth preserving."  Odd, he and Father both look pale now.

Oh.  Maybe I've tripped across another issue that we really shouldn't wade into right now.  Honestly, I keep trying to forget I have a sister, so I wasn't really upset with not having her around.  "That's a nice sentiment, but how are we going to convince him of that?  He's already of the opinion that Aaren is untrustworthy and a double-agent to boot.  He's a defector.  None of the Kommissars have been known for their forgiving natures.  Do any of us know him well enough to even be sure of this whole plan?"  I look at Father this time.

He looks away.  "He wasn't my concern.  I kept anyone in his line of work well away from me."  He seems a bit embarrassed that he can't contribute more.  "The Judge certainly seemed to consider him cooperative."

"Well, he is," says Stevane.  "He'd have to be, or I'd have killed him right after I killed his boss.  He's reasonable, to a point.  He cares most about his country and staying alive."  She looks away.  "And I've got some dirt on him."

"Really."  Daddy grins.  "What's his secret?"

Stevane shakes her head.  "It's not mine to tell.   And it's not something that'd help you.  But it's something that would give me an edge if I were to talk with him.  He cooperated really well in our last discussion.  And we're coming to the table with a way to clear out his backstabbers and get rid of his ex-boss's creepy stuff, so I'd say the odds are in our favor."

I still don't like this.  I don't like sending people in where they could so obviously die without a trace.  And I feel guilty, even though I've no reason to--

Damnit, is it that simple?  I curse myself while Gevurah and Gedulah laugh between my ears.  I'm not guilty about what we could possibly be doing to Aaren or Emily.  I'm guilty over what we're doing behind 'Sy's back.  And that's silly, because it's a mess he left behind for us to clean up.

I sigh.

"Aaren?"  I face him, arms crossed.  "What's your opinion?"

He shrugs.  "I'll do what Emily thinks is best.  It's her life that's really in danger here."  And to his credit, he does look shaken by that.

Emily just looks at me, determination in her eyes.  "I'm not an idiot."

I blink.  "I wasn't implying that you were."

"Well, since I'm not, then Aaren won't be, and that's about the extent to which we can affect anything.  We're more dead here than we would be there, in my opinion, and it's... it's a lot more exciting than just sitting around here trying to figure out how not to die.  I can watch Aaren's back just like I know some Poets do for Armed."  She claps her hands.  "It can be like Jhe Erynn and Jhe Gerude, except with less posturing!"

Aaren raises an eyebrow at that, but nods at the rest of it.  "Yeah, what she said."

I pin him with a look, taking note of exactly what I see in his eyes.  "Your problems with your Arms all originated from the old Kommissar.  If you go there, you might end up having to face things that you really shouldn't be dealing with right now."

He reaches up and takes Emily's hand.  "It's okay.  I won't make the mistake of losing something important again."

I sigh.  No wonder 'Sy curses about his damn job so much.  "I'm not going to stop you, then."  But I could.  We could hide them away somewhere safe where Calyx will never find them, even though I have no idea where that would be, and we'd make sure they never left.  Except Aaren's been trained to fight and face danger, and they're both Poet enough and young enough that we couldn't keep them cooped up for long.  Hell, it's been so long already.  They're probably already stir-crazy.  "But I'll be there to direct this stuff.  Stevane and Calyx can share their little treehouse secrets but otherwise, I'm in charge of this."

Which, conveniently enough, means I'll have to go to Audiva Rocale for a bit too.  I'll be out of Radia, doing something important for a change.

Aaren and Emily aren't the only ones going stir crazy.

* * *
Edward
* * *

I'd say everything's been a bit dark lately but that's untrue.  Grey, maybe, but that's still not quite it.  There have been colors, too, light and dark, bright and dull.  I just haven't given them any notice.  I haven't given anything any notice.  In a sort of freedom that I can't quite describe the bliss of, I've not been required to give anything that passes in front of my eyes any notice for... quite some time, I suppose.

Who am I kidding, I can't tell time anymore.  I almost laugh at the thought of it.  It seems like months, maybe years since I last noticed anything pass in front of my eyes.  I'd feel nagged about it, as it's likely happened several times before, but I've stopped caring about how often I forget here, and how often that oblivion seems purposefully pressed upon by my King.  He's left me with the awareness that there used to be a time when I had the the most distressing things in my memories.  I know he's wiped them away from me, so why complain or feel distressed?  I'm happy.  Obviously he's freed me from yet another burden I didn't want to be under.

But why am I noticing things now?  It was a little easier when it was all a blur.  Like I had a long period of rest, where I didn't have to think about the implications of anything ever...

What am I thinking?  I'm a Poet.  The Poet King, in fact, the rightful one who will soon take his throne.  I should be happy to observe again, as fits my role.  I take note of my surroundings, then.  Where am I?  Ah, of course.  The Court of Nul, at the side of my King's throne, where a Herald belongs.  We are having an audience today, one which the King desires me to witness.  Who could it be?  My King has so few visitors, could I even hope that she should be the one--

Lady Thelea enters the throne room, her white robes folding down from nowhere at all and puddling on the floor as she kneels.  She is every bit as beautiful as I remember her being - even if memories run thin in my head nowadays.  She doesn't look up at the Throne, though, which saddens me.  It's been so very long since she's looked upon me.  A hunger twinges in me for her mere acknowledgement.  It's been so long since I've known even hunger that the feeling takes me by complete surprise.  I suppose I want for nothing in Nul.

Now I want her.

* * *
Thelea
* * *

I am quiet and my manners are impeccable.  I stay kneeling on the floor until it is indicated that I may speak.

"You are commanded to report."  The voice is grittier than I imagined... older.  I hazard a glance up, now that I have been granted an audience.  Was that... no, it was Edward, of a certainty.  There he is, beside the Throne, standing as Herald.  Shoulders straight, posture perfect, an example to anyone.  He looks... happy, if I could pick an expression out of that face at all.

I school my own face marvelously.  A less controlled person would betray how disgusted she was by what's been done to his appearance, but I only smile sweetly at him and give him the slightest of nods, as I would have done in the old times when he served me.  He glows from the attention.  I try not to retch.  I try not to let it show that I notice he's missing an entire hand.  How did he manage to lose that?

Cade certainly wasn't the most attractive of people by the end of his days as Herald, but he emerged bodily intact, at the very least!

"My agent has secured the desert caves surrounding Robinstead.  He has reported that the Armed have taken notice of what has transpired there, and what you have growing there.  However, this may be a blessing, my Lord: he has observed that they are incapable of killing what forces of yours have been hiding in the caves, and in fact the Armed there have tried to reason with them.  They recognize their fallen comrades, and their first reaction is to look for a way to save them, not destroy them."  My lips tighten into a smile.  "Even their nefarious Arms cannot stop these soldiers you have created."

Edward stiffens as something oozes out of the air, oily and black and not-quite-a-sound.  I've learned to screen out the speech of our King for my own protection.  I wonder if Edward is so worn down because he must listen to that very speech and translate it.  I wonder... how long he might last doing that.

I feel the tiniest twinge of loss.

Edward opens his mouth to speak, his eyes, as always, white as the flesh of the dead.  "It wasn't planned that we should be discovered so quickly in Robinstead.  Do you have some idea of just how we may draw Crux Radia's attention away?  As it is, it is disappointing that a surprise attack has now been ruled out... but it will not--"  Edward coughs, a wet, stomach-churning sound.  He covers his mouth with his remaining hand.  He manages to do so before whatever oily blackness he just coughed up can slip out, but I still see it.  Worse, he swallows before he continues.  "It will not be a major setback.  We've rerouted forces into Radia before.  We have our surprises.  But now we must have our own in store."  He stares ahead.

Our Lord, however, looks upon me expectantly.

"I've irons well-tended in the fire, mi'lord, but they require time to properly heat up.  My agent in Robinstead's desert must also be given time to relocate.  It is best he not be seen by the Armed there, of course.  He's known as a traitor in Radia--"

"Odd that our King has yet to meet this most valued asset of his, your agent in the field,"  Edward interjects.  "Perhaps while we wait for your irons to smolder hot, an audience may be arranged?"

I keep myself from biting my lip.  No, I will not have that.  Nul is always greedy for servants, and I have seen what he has done to my precious Edward.  I would not have him mar the face of my pretty Lyric.  "That will be most difficult now, my liege.  He is already on a new mission."

My King stirs on his throne.  Edward flinches, then conceals another cough with a fist, hunching his shoulders as he does so.  He feels our Lord's dismay very closely, it seems - something which does make my heart ache dear.  I cannot risk myself for Edward, but he was a cherished servant, and it's always very strange to see him endure pain while I'm not the one causing it.

"What mission was so important that I was not yet made aware of it?"

* * *
Lyric
* * *

I never thought to myself when I was a kid: Lyric, you're going to be a chicken farmer when you grow up.

To be honest, I never thought I was going to grow up, either, and I'm doubtful that I have yet.  It's just, well... wow.  What a lot of Avians all around this oasis, all paying attention to me.

I suppose it makes sense that some of the stray odds and ends that made up Cade's forces would end up someplace like this, far out of the way of any human civilization and out of the range of the Judge.  It's just amazing to see so many in one place.  I'd met a few sparse groups on my way to my desert mission, but this is a larger gathering.  Maybe not a hundred, but well over fifty.  There's a makeshift paddock for windbirds as well, one of which was probably the bird who flew me here.  Arbvi's here, after all, and he was the guy that flew me to the desert.  He's looking at me just as expectantly as the rest.

Oy.  I managed to get my report to Thelea - a chilling interlude on its own.  I've got a talisman of hers on my person that I keep as sealed away as possible, as per her instruction, so that it doesn't give me away to the enemies of Nul.  Using it allowed us to speak with each other well enough, but it reminded me just how much I despise being around her.  At least I'm an actor, and so betrayed none of that to her.  But still... I conveyed what I could to keep her happy, eliminating the details about Myles, of course.  When it came to the Avians, she just said to keep the 'rabble' busy and not let them stray off, since they might be useful.

The frustration of the job I do for her is that I don't want to do it well, but if I don't do it well enough, I don't keep the job!  Then what use am I?  This was a lot easier with Ebrellin-i.

Augh.  I didn't want to feel that weird pang.  I shouldn't miss him that much.

I survey the crowd.  I don't think everyone expects me to make some big speech here, but I'm pretty sure they expect me to start handling things.  Okay, first thing's first.  Time to see what I'm dealing with.  "Can someone give me an update on just what it is that's been going on here?"

A guy raises his hand.  He's a little weird in that he looks like a mix of human and Avian, but he's still got the beak and all.  "I've been asking the same thing m'self, so I've got a pretty good handle on what's what, I think."

That sounds just great to me.  I ask the guy to come with me over to the side so I can hear him better.  He introduces himself then.  He says his name's Kevreck.

* * *

It seems to me that Kevreck's a pretty smart guy.  He's an orphan, same as everyone else out here, but he's pretty cool-headed and he doesn't have a lot of the pent-up anger that I notice in a lot of the other Avians.  Maybe he's had a better life because he's got half a regular face?  Who knows, but I know one thing: he seems to sort of be in charge here.

"Oh naw, Avians don't have leaders, really.  We just flock.  Like the ducks migrate, all following the guy in front, til the next guy's in front.  Like that."

I just nod.  "That's fine, however it works for you."

"So, do we have a new job, now that there's new management?  Word spread pretty quick that Jhe Cade's out of the business.  Bless 'im, he certainly kept us useful doin' whatever odd job.  Some of the guys are startin' to get restless, though, thinking that maybe Nul doesn't want em anymore."  He shrugs.  "Kind of a bad spot to be in.  No one else to work for."  He's watching my face pretty carefully.  I'm the new guy, after all - no one has a reason to trust me just yet.

Dang.  I don't have any money for these guys either.

"And some of em are starting to want to wander off to the human town."  Kevreck wrinkles his nose, or at least the skin around his beak.  "You know how it is.  Avians and human women.  They start gettin' their cravings..."

I raise an eyebrow.  "What about you?"

Kevreck raises an eyebrow back at me.  I'm not sure how that feathered brow manages to make the gesture so salacious, but I get the message.  Or, well, maybe he was joking, but either way I'm not gonna ask anything else about that.  I prefer taller guys.  "I understand about being antsy.  I'm antsy too.  I've been waiting on orders myself.  And maybe this isn't the best location.  There's water in an oasis but not enough space here.  Human settlements nearby and all."

He frowns.  "No orders yet?"

I shake my head.  "I'll be honest: Crux Radia's managed to chip into Nul's forces in a way that requires a lot of regrouping.  I've been told that you'll all still be needed, but not yet for what.  It's good to know that you don't have any more uh, human cargo to drop into those caves."  I blink, catching myself.  "Good to know nothing's left behind, I mean.  That job's all done.  No more of those caves for you."

Kevreck looks relieved to hear that.  I don't blame him.  Feeding an Eater has to be pretty unpleasant.  Especially since... "Yeah, that was pretty dangerous work, from what I heard.  We uh, lost a couple guys."

Ew.  I guess a few Eaters did manage to have chicken for dinner.  "Sorry.  Sounds like it was before your time, though, so I guess you missed out on the brunt of the horror."

He nods.  "Yeah, I've only been here a coupla weeks now.  You seem kind of new to this all yourself."

"In a way, yes."  I sigh.  "I do miss the Peacock King's Court, but my work there was done.  I suppose we all must move on.  Crux Radia's a bad place to stay for all involved, though.  At the very least, moving into Audiva Rocale will have us closer to command."  It also means taking a large part of Nul's forces, and thus Nul's influence, out of Crux Radia and back to somewhere they can do less damage.  Then, Elric pokes me with an idea.  I think over it for a moment, then agree.  "There's some unsettled land I know of that's quite vast, and quite safe for us, if everyone follows the rules."

Kevreck skates a glance to the milling crowd of Avians.  "I'm not meaning to lay any insults, but these guys... not so much on the rules following."

I wave that away.  "Oh, it'll be fine.  There's a dragon.  If they break the rules, he'll just eat them."

"Oh, well in that case--"  Kevreck chokes, breaking his cheery facade.  "A dragon?"

"Yeah.  He guards the valley, after all.  Don't worry, there's already a bunch of Avians in his woods already, so I'm sure there won't be any problems as long as everyone knows who's in charge."  I start towards the Windbirds.  "Come on, we've got to get everyone organized.  The Valley of Hesperides is a long way from here."

* * *
Edward
* * *

Lady Thelea is gone.  It's with a pang of sadness that I realize I'm not sure when she left.  It's the first concrete feeling I've had in quite awhile, or remember having, so I latch onto it.

Why so sad, Ed'huar-schelina?

Something strokes through my hair.  I realize it's my King's taloned gauntlets.  I'm unsure, but I think that might have been concern in his voice.  If I've heard such an emotion buried in the non-words he speaks, I've never noticed it before.

Why am I sad?  I'm ready to say that I don't remember, but I do, actually, which is a thing that I'm not used to anymore.  I was starting to think I could depend on my memories fading, and not having to ever worry about the past, but it seems that's not going to be true forever - or at least, it's not true now.

I'm beginning to notice the world around me again.  ...Such as it is.  I'm kneeling before the King's throne, and unlike other supplicants before me, I'm not writhing in pain there.  I'm not even bloodied - the pool at the throne has drawn away from me.  I am simply relaxed, my head resting on his knee (which explains the strange metal feeling against my chin) as he pets my hair.  Somehow, the position eases the loss of my Lady leaving - perhaps because it's one I often took with her.

It's a common position for anybody's pet, really.  I'm smart enough to know what I am.  It may have taken me a long time for Thelea to teach me that, and that may have been painful, but...

I shiver.  There's a pointed scratch against my scalp.  I've ignored his question.  I must have been a very good boy lately, because he's forgone punishing me for such a grave omission.  I'm about to tell him that I miss my Lady, but... that's not quite true.  It was a moment or two ago, but something's made that pain subside in my mind.

No, the answer's still the same, but the reason isn't her.  I'm lonely.  It's grown worse and worse, lately.  Well, I'm not sure how time really passes anymore, but I've been noticing the problem grow from what of the recent past I can recall, and that'll have to be close enough.

His talons scratch through my hair affectionately.  I'm always here, as much as you may fail to notice what's around you sometimes.  I almost hear a grin in his voice.  Strange.

I suppress the urge to shake my head.  I've only caught scant glances of the King, and that was far in the past, long before he laid claim to me.  Back in those painful days of Thelea's training, days which are curiously growing more clear in my memory as of late.  While it was quite awhile ago, I still remember that his knee armor plates have spikes on them.  The angle I have my head at now is the only angle it's possible to not gore myself from.

It's not a loneliness your presence can cure, my King.  I miss my fellow Poets.  I miss teaching them.  I feel the ache again as I remember Jhe Erynn's face, scowling at me from his dreams.  I tried to collect some, but it proved more difficult than I had calculated.  Their rightful King--

--they have no rightful King, Ed'huar-schelina.  Didn't we kill him already?  Do I need to summon those memories for you again?  His voice is strangely not as angry as I'd expect it to be, from such a topic.  But he seems to think it's truly settled.  A false one holds the Crown.  There is no Poet King.

I want to believe him, so I don't test him for lies.

The false one is adept at keeping the Poets away from me.  I long to teach again, my liege.

He taps his other knee, the talons making a strange hollow sound against the metal.  I can't see them, but the sound could be nothing else.  A pity.  I've already spent the Poets I'd been keeping in stores.  They are now invested elsewhere.

I wait, hoping that he might clarify just where they could be, what project.  Perhaps I could request just one or two to come attend me--

My project near Robinstead.

I flinch.  I've been kept out of contact with the Eaters, but one early chance encounter left me screaming.  My fellow Poets, brought down to the level of perpetually hungry monsters.  It's a fate that more suits the Armed.

I apologize, but it's something that cannot be undone.  He does not sound particularly apologetic, but he is being kinder with me than I've seen him be with anyone.  You may surely find new ones, though.  Poets are akin to weeds.  New ones spring up no matter what we do to prevent it.  You might make them more useful to me now than you did while under Thelea's command.  There's a strange purr in his voice.  Anticipation, maybe?  Or just greed.  My forces have failed time and again to bend Poets to my rule.  You show potential.  That false King will not keep the Crown for long.

He strokes his talons through my hair yet again, affection obvious in the gesture.

You'll break them for me, won't you, my Herald?

I shiver again, and this time I don't really know why.  Of course, my King.  With pleasure.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

The discussion rolls right on into lunch and out the other side.  I manage to have everyone out of Jhe 'brelle's suite by afternoon.  After a few hours it mostly turned into the nitpicky details that Jhe Katherine can worry about.  What matters to me for now is that Unkie will send off a request to the Kommissar for a meeting, and from there I'll get to meet Jhe Calyx again, and see if we can get anywhere with negotiations.  I'm pretty sure I'll have everything well in hand, since I've got my bargaining point to barter with, and he can't refuse a good offer.  I'm kind of looking forward to it, to be honest.  I don't want to be anywhere near the Kommissar's labs, but building Jhe 'brelle's labs, and then finding out what's up with these weird Arms... that's going to be really interesting.

I sigh.  A shame Jhe Aaren had to go and need his life saved, though.  That's going to slow down everything.  He's such a cretin, and an idiot to boot.  He's going to turn out useful, yeah, but I've never really liked him, and I'm only saving his life because it's the right thing to do, especially for Radia's sake.

Jhe 'brelle snorts as he hunches over his writing table.  "I must agree that the boy is reprehensible.  I can understand saving the silly little Poet girl that got dragged into Jhe Voitre's schemes, but I've no motivation to spare him.  He's an idiot, and vile, and I don't trust him."



I look over Jhe 'brelle's work.  He's writing the letter to the Kommissar that will set our plans in motion.  "Still, thank you for doing what you can.  I never have trusted him either, and I'm glad I set his eyebrows on fire."

He smiles, the look a tad ferocious.  "I only wish you'd combusted them twice, my dear.  As it is, I have my reservations."

I blink.  "About the plan?  Why didn't you bring them up?"

"I'd have upset someone."  Jhe 'brelle continues to scribe his missive as I stand there, jaw agape, staring at him.  A minute passes, and then I hear him internally decide that he doesn't want my drool on the carpet in a place he might step in.  "I know, I know.  Typically it's beneath my concern to dote on such trivial things as to how others might take offense at my well-meaning suggestions, bestowed upon them with the best of intentions.  But when it comes to my brother, Jhe o'Radia, and my eldest daughter, I take pains not to upset them now."

I close my mouth and remember to breathe.  I inhale slow and deep through my nose, and close my eyes.  It makes sense.  It does make sense.  I have to accept that, and move on, and not lose sight of reality.  Sometimes, some rare times, Jhe 'brelle does actually heed basic social mores such as not trying to get himself killed three times over.

Sometimes.

"So, why wouldn't this upset me, if those three would have blown such a gasket?"

He chuckles.  "Because not only do I support Jhe Calyx's decision to kill the Voitre boy, but it's also well within his rights, and even the Law... as I know it."  His voice quavers a bit on that last sentence, but I don't blame him for that.

I lean with my shoulder against the wall and chew on my lip as I think that over.  I can't really disagree with a murderous intent toward Jhe Aaren, and in a way, I can't quite disagree with the part about the Law.  Asking my Arms if Jhe Aaren is guilty isn't quite fair to him since we've always wanted to kill him anyway.  That happens a lot to the Armed in Black Ops, since they're in a weird blind spot when it comes to the Law - they're usually breaking the Law in the name of the Law.  In any case, I'd like to know Jhe 'brelle's reasoning.  "Go on."

He chuckles.  "You, of course, take it calmly."  He finishes another line in the letter he's writing, then sets his quill down.  "Of course."  He sits back, then laces his fingers behind his head, looking at me almost eye-to-eye.  Damn him and his infernal height.  He's sitting down and he's still taller than me!  "Jhe Voitre is an Aurocan citizen.  Why should I lift a finger to save a traitor to the Crown?"  He gestures at his head.  "Mind you, it's a Crown I'm not claiming right now, which I'm sure Alestere would argue with me at length about.  If I'm not going to take up proper rule over my subjects, how can I castigate one of them?  And then he'd plead and whine about his precious Poets and how I can't kill a single one of them even if they're caught spying on my Empire red-handed."  Jhe 'brelle spreads his arms wide, shrugging as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.  "To be honest, I haven't even thought out what Jhe o'Radia or Katherine would blow up about.  Pick something.  I don't really care enough to bother, but I didn't want to cause a scene."

I raise a particularly disbelieving eyebrow.  He grins.

"I admit, that was a bit of a falsehood on my part.  I would have loved to throw the entire room into turmoil, but then I imagine you'd contract such a headache from the entire spectacle that you'd end up setting my hair a'fire."

I can't help it - I break deadpan and laugh.  A little part of me is terrified at the thought of losing Jhe 'brelle's lovely hair, but I can't deny that a larger part would be nothing but gleeful for the prospect, if given the right excuse.  As much as Jhe 'brelle would have it otherwise, there's no Law stating that his hair enjoys the same sanctity as his innocent life does.  After catching my breath, I look back up at him.  "You're developing survival skills!  I'm so proud."

He beams.

I let out a sigh, the gravity of the situation heavy in the exhalation.  "Unfortunately, I really do think we'll have to find some way to preserve Jhe Aaren's life.  He's too useful."

Jhe 'brelle smirks, but looks away from my eyes.  "To you, he is useful.  Might I remind you, Jhe Akribastes, that Crux Radia and Audiva Rocale enjoy quite a tenuous peace, kept in place only by a Treaty imposed on both rulers by an Emperor across the sea who threatened to destroy both our entire Kingdoms otherwise?  We keep the peace, yes.  I'd never risk my daughter over a quarrel with Luciprochoros.  But that does not mean that we are on the same side.  Audiva Rocale and Crux Radia are opposing Empires, and my Empire's best interests may not have Jhe Voitre's livelihood in mind."

I glare at him.  He is quiet, for awhile.  After making sure that I have no retort, he continues.

"After quite a bit of contemplation, I concluded that Jhe Voitre being in the current Kommissar's employ is, in fact, useful to Audiva Rocale.  The former Kommissar's loyal agents are of no use to me, after all - their leader was an enemy of mine and an ally of my Mother's, who is an enemy to almost everyone on the planet.  I am pleased by the efficiency of using one exposed double-agent to expose the others.  It amuses me on a certain level as well.  Still, it remains that Jhe Voitre is a criminal, an enemy, a spy and an utter cretin.  However, in my letter I did write his pardon for three of those things.  Nothing I can write to Jhe Calyx will have any effect on Jhe Voitre's cretin condition.  I suspect that is incurable.  It is not, however, lethal."  He steeples his fingers in front of him, waiting for my commentary.

I have a seat and think through his words.  I'm trying to catch where he might be weaseling out of things.  I'm also a little exhausted from listening to him go on so.  After a moment, I realize it's a bit futile.  "Then it sounds like we can proceed as planned, with no one exploding over it."

He nods, oddly tense for someone who enjoys any occasion on which he can be smug.  "I had hoped for such an outcome, ultimately.  I'm sorry--" he chokes for a moment, and then I realize that he's a bit out of sorts over the fact that he's apparently apologizing for something.  "If I offended you somehow, Jhe Stevane, I apologize.  I didn't intend to."

I cross my arms.  "All that 'other sides' stuff?  I was starting to wonder whose side you think I'm on."



"Mine, I hope."  He still doesn't meet my eyes.  Can't really blame him.  Eye contact really helps me aim when I'm trying to ignite eyebrows.

"Well I can't be on your side if you draw a line between us.  I don't think anyone wants those kind of lines right now.  We're all trying to find ways to work together."  I run a hand through my hair.  I feel like I'm in a total disarray, and the mane's frazzled to match.

"Yes.  Well."  He leans down over the letter and sighs.  "That's been tried before.  Sometimes it doesn't work the way you hope, Stevane."  Bitter memories skate through his mind, and then brush against mine.

I squeeze my eyes tight.  "Stop thinking about my Uncle that way.  Or find a wall to stick it behind."  I open my eyes and glare at him.  "Or otherwise deal with it, because I'm tired of the visions of you two sprawled on top of each other with your naughty bits hanging out where I can see them!"  I swear, between his memories and the incident with Jhe h'leste this morning, I can't take two steps without walking into an unwanted mental image of somebody I know's dong!

Jhe 'brelle does not quite go red.  I'm not sure that he can.  He goes pink.  It even shows on the parts of his scalp that are visible through all the hair.  "I'm... sorry."  He puts his fingers to his lips, at a loss for words, for once.  I really am terribly sorry, Stevane.

I bury my face into my hands and lean my elbows onto my knees.  "Why did you tie him up?  That's the part that I don't get.  I'd understand if it were just you two... as lovers.  You had a kid together.  Well, two.  And you two seem compatible enough, I guess.  That would be awkward to have in my head, but I get enough stray visions and weird mental images from being a Poet that I've learned to deal with it, especially since I have four brothers and a sister.  But... in the memories that keep flashing through your mind... and leaking into mine--"  I take another breath.  "Did... did you have him in a collar, Jhe 'brelle?"

"I'm... sorry.  I can't explain it."

I look up from between frazzled strands of red hair, glaring with the kind of eyesight that gets the guilty Aimed at.  "You can explain to Unkie why it's a perfectly good idea to turn a human into an ornamental bar of soap.  I have full faith in your expository skill."

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

"I had so much fun with you two both there!"  Katherine's face glows as she walks alongside me through the Radian Palace.  "I mean, we had work to do and all, but it was so nice, having a breakfast together with you and Father!  I can't even remember--" she cuts herself off out of distraction and excitement.  "We need to do that again sometime, Daddy."  She grins up at me.

I just nod.  I've got a lot on my mind, but I'm glad she's so happy.  I... well, I suppose I can be happy about a few things.

She grabs hold of my hand, stopping us in the hall.  I take the broad hint and focus my full attention on her.  There's something fierce and focused in her expression, nestled in between all that good cheer.

"Promise me will do it again sometime?"  The way her eyes plead at me just makes my chest wrench.  All the raw manipulation of a small child, finessed by a keen and agile diplomat.  My daughter was raised well, and chooses her weapons with little mercy.

"Of course."  I lean over and kiss her on the forehead, taking both her hands in mine.  "You promise you'll make it as much a pleasure as it was today, and we'll have breakfast with you anytime."

Her eyes sparkle.  I see a little shock behind that glee, of course.  She didn't entirely believe I'd say yes.  Considering how long it took for the three of us to be in the same room with Ebrelle and I civil with each other, I don't blame her.  It's been a very long time since that last happened, and she was too young to remember it now.

"I have some work to do now.  You have tasks as well, if we're to set this plan into motion."  I stand up straight.  "I should be free for dinner--"

I see her expression, see the desire plain in view, and the question she'll probably ask.  I know my children, by Theos, and they know me for a pushover.

"Your Father will have to decide whether he'd like to be a part of that.  He's had a busy day so far, and he's still regaining his energy.  He tends to be very tired by the time we'd be having dinner.  If he declines, please understand that."

Her smile grows wistful at that, but she nods.  "Time to shovel some paperwork on Benny, then.  See you in the evening, Daddy!"  And then she runs off.

I'm alone.

I turn to my quarters and head to my office.  I've much to do.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

I have, at the very least, convinced Stevane to hold off on demanding explanations about myself and her Uncle's previous entanglements until after I've written Jhe Voitre's pardon.  With that done, I can, for the first time in quite some days, feel I've actually accomplished anything.  Finally I can remember a given day by what I did during it, and not by what new madness I've walked through, or who I've managed to upset.  Given, the latter two still will apply to today, but at least they'll not be able to claim it exclusively.

Having a quiet moment during which Stevane doesn't loom over me and my mental problems is also a welcome respite, something which I don't feel guilty in the least for enjoying because I know she feels the same.

Missive penned, signed, sealed and handed off to my Poet, I rise from my desk and stretch.  It's embarrassing how exhausted I already am.  I remember that I've spent the past few months mostly sleeping or suffering from the nightmares that haunt me into daytime.  Moving about a great deal, having visitors, and making plans are all new developments.  It burns me that I don't immediately have the energy for it all, because I feel that I should, somehow.  I should have more vitality.  How much did I lose when I lost my Crown?  How much of me faded along with the green in my hair?

Stevane's hand wraps around mine.  The gesture is a reminder of her presence, and of where and when I am.  "You're dwelling.  You don't have to dwell."  I can tell these are words she's told herself before.  She's still a teenager, yes?  She's surely had her moody times, her own emotional breakdowns simply from the sheer brute force of growing into an adult.  I keep forgetting that, possibly because I'm not the most successful adult myself at times.

I nod.  "Allow me to collect myself."  It's more a plea to put off a talk than anything.

"Sit.  I'll brush your hair."  She tugs gently on a handful of it.  "It's been a long time since it's been braided."

The thing about Stevane having her fingers in my hair is that it's easier for her to get a grip on my thoughts.  It's tempting, though.  I miss having servants to attend to my every need.  I love having my hair pampered.  I also have no way of getting rid of her, and no excuses to fight her off with.  I acquiesce and sit down in the middle of my bed, my back to the footboard, my hair hanging over it.  All that makes it easier for her to handle my mane in the beginning, when she's working on the end of the length.  By the little tugs I feel and the swishing of the brush, I can tell she's already going to work.

"I feel I'm in a difficult position to explain what occurred between myself and Jhe o'Radia."

There's no vocal reply, and not even a mental one.  Instead, Stevane rises, waits for me to lean forward, and then runs the brush down from my scalp through the full length of my hair, going gentle when it snags, until she has returned to the floor at the footboard, on her knees.

Her reply, via that, is that I'm in a position to say whatever I want.  She will listen.  And while it's still strange to have her be the quiet, kneeling servant, doting over my hair, it's something I'm used to by now.  She won't behave this way if anyone else is around, and she won't do it at my request, either.  She's not my servant, and we both know this.  But she knows when I need her to act as one.  She knows it much better than I do.  Whisk, whisk, whisk.  Those little tugs at my head relax me just as much as the feeling of someone respectfully caring for me.

"There's little I can say to defend myself, so I won't.  I will spare most of the details as well.  You see enough of those in memory glimpses.  I will do my best to explain what I did, but I fear I never can explain why.  It's impossible to explain the reasoning behind an act for which an apology will never be accepted."

Whisk, whisk, whisk.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

I rule solo, and I work alone.  The problem with working alone is that it means I have nothing to do but think as I work.  Thinking is dangerous, because thoughts wander almost as often as they dwell.  My thoughts are wandering to the same place every time I catch them straying, and once they get to that place, they dwell with a ceaseless devotion.

But it can't cause much harm to be around Ebrelle that much, can it?

Part of me calls me a fool for even thinking that to myself.  Of course it'll do harm.  Ebrelle hurts everyone he's around eventually, and he especially hurts me.  Didn't I learn that last time?  'Sy had to teach me because I couldn't learn it myself.

Maybe I should dwell.  Maybe I should remind myself so that I don't slip up and let my guard down.  'Sy's not here to keep me on the straight and narrow anymore.  He's not here to guard me.  And he'd be the first to say that I can't be trusted to watch myself.

It's time to reflect on why that is.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"It started out as reasonable enough.  Well, if an imposed contract by a ruler from over the ocean can be called reasonable.  Emperor Theos's terms were quite clear.  The Empires of Audiva Rocale and Crux Radia were torn from our war, and we were endangering every person on the continent with our quarrels.  To repair what I had broken, I would build something anew with Jhe o'Radia, who would atone for his own damages through the act.  It would become a Treaty that we would not break, because we would make it together, and we would never want it to die.

"Well, that was all well and good, but he wanted us to make a child, and your Uncle and I were not yet even acquainted.  I was the first to bend, which was quite uncharacteristic of me, but I felt that the Aurocans had to show more deference in the arrangement.  The Radians were familiar to Emperor Theos, and they knew the ways of the Chetharians.  We Aurocans would be at a disadvantage unless I made a show of faith.  So it came to pass: I arrive in Crux Radia alone to become better acquainted with Jhe o'Radia, at the extreme displeasure of my Mother, who sought to sabotage every step of the negotiations.  That, of course, would be the secondary reason for my decision to begin things in Radia.  I was having my Palace secured against my Mother's machinations."

I pause, a realization sliding into place as the brush slides cleanly through my hair.

"I was more myself then, during that visit.  The Jherent Nul receded from me almost completely, out of fear of discovery by the Radians, I imagine.  Before that point, I had no control over my own actions.  He... he sent me down to protect himself."  I blink, looking down at the blankets, thinking back through the events.  Nul's possession was like a fog in my mind, the events up until then hazy and half-remembered.  Once I arrived in Radia, what I can remember is much clearer, so much more vivid.  "I... hadn't had a chance yet, to truly explore how much was his bidding and how much I did was of my own Will."

Stevane's brush whisks through my hair more quickly, the tugs not hard, but much more apparent.  It presses me to hurry things along and not dwell on what I should blame myself.  Diyn saw to all the blame I needed for those events.  I still sting from it, even now.

"Safety was less my concern, though the Judge was certainly a potential hazard.  He'd lost children, and warriors, and a partner.  I avoided him as much as possible, and focused on Jhe o'Radia and on quickly resolving things so that I could hurry to my home and repair what I could.  I... tried to be as gentlemanly as possible.  I did try, Stevane.  In the beginning, I succeeded.  You see, my approach then to interacting with people was to control them as much as possible, to convince them I was their ruler and never let them forget it.  Life was easier when others deferred to me.  But I couldn't do that with Jhe o'Radia.  I was to regard him as my equal.  Else, this Treaty would not come to fruition, and we'd face destruction.  So, I kept sides of myself which others might consider... unpleasant... leashed.  For a time."

Stevane picks through a tangle, drawing long strands through the knot with care.  "Tell me about him, not about yourself."

"Your Uncle..." I pause to think.  She is his niece.  There are certain details I am unsure I should share, but this story won't allow for eliminating most of them.  And, of course, she already knows much of what's in my own head.  "He was energetic about every little thing.  I could barely keep up with him, at times.  Being used to directing conversation and having everything turn my way, it was quite a shock.  It wasn't just that I was disallowing myself the usual tools of manipulation.  Quite simply put, he was my match."

I realize that I'm grinning.

"And it felt good."

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

Today reminded me of the early days with Ebrellin-i.  That's why I'm so on edge now.  We used to talk like we did today, all energy and excitement, each other's ideas running into each other and then, instead of the ideas clashing, they'd converge into something powerful and unstoppable.  That sums up the idea beheing making the Treaty, and making Katherine.  We weren't there yet, but it happened soon enough.

And, well, that sums up what happened in my bed, too.  Neither of us knew which of us was on top.  Both of us were having too much fun to care.  I was so happy with it that I found myself opening up in ways I'd never expected.  And Ebrellin-i... I thought it was the same way for him, back then.

I'd been wrong.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"I didn't set out to do it.  One thing led to another, that's all.  And he seemed to like it, so why would I stop?"

Stevane tugs my hair a little harder than usual.  "You've been going on like that in circles for about five minutes now, without actually talking about it."

"I... I don't know how to talk about it, Stevane."

Then show me, and maybe it'll be done with and off your mind.

My shoulders tense and my back goes rigid, which makes the next snag in my hair she hits hurt all the more.  How can I show her those things?  Even if she's already seeing them... how can I knowingly expose her to--

"I have a boyfriend.  I've had sex.  Way more than you'd ever want to know."  She says it so primly.

It's a successful debate technique - now I'm so busy trying not to think about it that I'm in a rush to tell her as much as possible, as quickly as possible.

"We were just talking, really, about... well, things both of us had done before, with other people.  And your Uncle had a much shorter list than I did, to his surprise.  He's the elder between us, but I was vastly more experienced with a number of things, the very existence of which shocked and intrigued him.  And, him being your Uncle, you can imagine the first thing he wanted to do."

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

I blame myself for it, really.  I asked.

"Well, why would anyone want to do that?"  And there's no better way to find out than to try it yourself.  It was just a bit of rope, after all.  I was far too powerful and cunning to be endangered by something as simple as that, so it seemed safe enough.

Once my hands were tied, it was him in charge, and he never let me forget it until the ropes came off.  And, well, it was fun, and there was nothing wrong with that.

I was a fool for thinking it would stay that way, but give Ebrellin-i an inch and he'd take everything else and chain it somewhere to keep forever.  That he could make a person want to be chained and kept like that was the cruelest part.  No wonder Tesynnodai was so furious.

By the end of it, we had a child, yes, a Treaty.  But I was a mess, and then, well... the fight for custody of Katherine.  Tesynnodai won it, after making sure that I'd never contact Ebrellin-i without his leave again.

If there ever seems to be anything I'm good at, it's making him angry, because I'm failing at that last bit every day now.  It's okay for now.  Alestere's got an eye on Stevane, after all, so she's not in any danger while she keeps Ebrelle sane.  Even 'Sy didn't forbid that arrangement.

I keep wondering whether I should trust Ebrelle again.  Then I remember the feel of a collar around my neck.

I can't let it happen again.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"I should have never let myself do it to him.  It was an obvious breach of protocol.  It was putting him in the position of a servant."

"You said it was just a bit of rope."  The long strands finally brushed all the way through, Stevane begins to braid my hair.

"I was the Peacock King.  There was no such thing as just a bit of rope, once it was in my hands."  I twine my fingers into each other nervously, then realize I'm weaving and tying something imaginary.  I ball my hands up into fists.  No more.

"Where were you then?  Audiva Rocale?"  Stevane clucks to herself, making a more ornate knot of my hair than a simple braid would require.

"Of course.  We had to make Katherine there.  She's the child of a laboratory, and Crux Radia didn't have the facilities.  Once Jhe o'Radia had proven himself trustworthy and I'd cleaned my Palace of my Mother's influence..."  My voice trails off.  I try to think over the memories.  But they're... foggy.  Vivid impressions of Katherine and Luciprochoros and much of what we did in the labs are interspersed with the murk and fog of... of...

I bite my lip.

Stevane unties a knot and then reweaves it.  "It's okay.  It's not your fault.  But you need to speak out loud for me."

"I had so much clarity in Crux Radia.  I was overjoyed.  I thought it was because I was free of my Mother.  When we arrived in the Aurocan Palace, that clarity receded, but... I didn't notice at the time.  I don't know why, I just became... irritable and possessive and I made all these decisions, Stevane, decisions with no discernible logic behind them--"

She sighs as I lose my words again.  "You'd no way of knowing then what was happening to you.  You were the Jherent Nul's again.  It's pretty clear in your mind when that happened, from an outsider's perspective."  She plaits my hair, the braid halfway down my back at this point.  "No wonder you refuse to go back to that place.  It ruins you."

I still grow my nails long, and now they're pinching into my palms.  "You've said nothing about what I did to your Uncle."

She gathers the hair in her hands and tugs it as she slips off of the bed and down to the footboard again, braiding the bottom.  "Did you really do that to my Uncle on your own?"

I can't answer that question and she knows it.

"You should talk to him about it.  Maybe with Jhe h'Leste.  But I don't want to be a part of that discussion."  She makes quick work of the end of my braid, the secures it with a bit of ribbon.  "Maybe I'll take a nice nap and someone can write a dream for me.  That should keep your mind from bleeding into mine for a bit.  Then you won't have to worry what memories roll through your head."  She sighs.  "Jhe 'brelle, my boyfriend's been away for a long time and it's just not fair."

...I really don't have any reply to that.

Thankfully, a knock on the door saves me from any possibility of having to talk or think about the intimate details of Stevane's relationships in any way, shape or form.  Stevane answers it for me as I rise from the bed and inspect her handiwork in the mirror.  It's always so strange, walking with the whole mane braided.  It's as if there is a thick length of ship rope attached to the back of my skull.  Still, it looks quite nice-- oh, she's gone and stuck flowers in it again.  Silly girl.

"Father?"  I turn.  Ah, Katherine has paid me another visit this evening.  She smiles at me, the picture of loveliness and innocence.  She must want something.  "Would you happen to be free for dinner this evening?"

I look over to Stevane.  She spreads her hands wide.  "I don't think there's many appointments on your calendar, unless you wanted to have your regular evening constitutional pacing back and forth, bickering with a pot of petunias--"

"Dinner sounds lovely," I say to Katherine.

She grins, something like mischief sparkling in her eyes, but it's probably just the way she can look like her other Father sometimes.  "Oh!  Wonderful!"  She bounces a bit, then steps back.  "I'll be back in an hour with Daddy and all the food!"

I open my mouth to reply with something, but Stevane manages to nudge past my place in line and gets her words in first.  Damned Poets!  "Oh!  Bring Jhe h'leste too!  I'm sure he'd love to come!"  She grins at me.  "I'll be out, after all."

Katherine looks at me in confusion.  I let everything sink in, and then give up.  "Yes, yes.  It would be lovely to have Alestere here as well.  Please let him know he's invited."

She's a bit perplexed, probably because she senses someone is up to something, but she lets it go.  Then she leaves.  "See you in an hour!  I love you!"

"I love you too."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

"I'm... invited to dinner with your parents?"

Katherine's eyes widen as she realizes the implications of the dinner invitation she's extended to me.  It's gratifying to see the same panic in her eyes as I feel rising in myself.  "Oh!  No, no, it's not like that... I just wanted a nice dinner together with my parents."

I look upon her with the eyes of patience as she goes over what just came out of her mouth.

"I still didn't mean it like that!"  She looks sheepish.  "Stevane felt you'd like to be present.  Apparently she can't be there?  I think she just meant that you'd be an appropriate mediator, and she was trying to voice that diplomatically."  Katherine pauses to mull that over, a troubled look on her face.

I clear my throat, unable to suppress a chuckle of amusement despite the situation.  "I believe Jhe Stevane is up to something.  I expect I'll have her report in to explain herself, and inform me of whatever prior engagement she's become entangled in.  Can you go on ahead and continue with the dinner arrangements?  Also, I accept your invitation."

She smiles, a tiny little smile that she herself probably didn't expect.  "I think it will be nice to have a family dinner."  She glances up at me with a stern look.  "Don't give us away.  Daddy probably wouldn't have too much of a problem, but Father... we never did tell him about Jennelcia."

I clear my throat and try to stop thinking of the implications of having a relationship with my brother's daughter.  It's not a predicament I quite intended to get myself into, but there's certainly nothing to be done now but bear with the fact that both sides of my heritage are prone to family wreaths in place of family trees.  "I will keep proper discretion in mind."

She sighs, the situation obviously just as surreal for her.  "You know, this always causes trouble.  Someday I'll stop getting it with my uncles."  Before I can recover from the ensuing coughing fit, she leaves.

It's really very common for the Xaillyndessen to breed back in, of course.  But until my brother and I's generation, none of the family ever bonded closely with each other.  Perhaps that's why this feels awkward from certain angles of examination.  

Or maybe I'm just dreading the prospect of eventually facing my brother about a relationship with his daughter - something that even 'Sy didn't consider to be particularly survivable.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

Man, this whole family dinner thing gets a lot more complex than I thought it would.  Maybe I need to rethink these occasions.  Well, best to get everything in order and see how the evening goes before I reconsider anything.  I turn away from the door to Alestere's suite.  Time to go arrange for food, and walk straight into Stevane.

"Oops!  Sorry, I was in too much of a hurry to look up!"  She takes a step back, breathing heavily.  "I ran here to make sure Jhe h'leste had time to..." she fades off, then cocks her head at me.  Then a knowing look spreads on her face that makes me uneasy.  Out of nowhere, she gives me a thumbs-up.

I blink at her, perplexed.  "Uh..."

"Nice catch."  She smiles brightly at me, all good cheer and perkiness, and then enters Alestere's suite.  I'm left blinking.

I... I'm gonna go get the food.  Having 'Sy's daughter congratulate me on a relationship with her boss is... well, oddly appropriate, for her.  Stevane always did seem committed to making sure our relationship remained professional despite me being the only mother of any of 'Sy's children that stuck around.  Oh wait, if she knows... what about Father?

Curse it.  I wanted this to be a normal dinner.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I'm practically bouncing when I enter Jhe h'leste's office.  He looks weary, though, and when he turns to look at me, his expression shifts to concern.  "Jhe Stevane, is there something wrong?"

I blink.  Considering how much I'm beaming, I really didn't expect that question.  "No, not at all.  Why do you ask?"

He peers at me closely, especially into my eyes, possibly to ascertain for himself that yes, I am perfectly fine, if overly excited.  "You requested a break from your duties this evening.  I thought the abrupt nature of the request was perhaps an indicator that you were distressed.  Is everything going well between you and Jhe Ebrelle?"

I weigh that one out.  "Well, that is why I need a break tonight, but it's not anything he said or did."  I point to my head.  "I'm pretty good at screening my thoughts from him so as not to upset him, or to keep secrets he shouldn't know.  But..."  I wobble my hand in front of me.  "Jhe 'brelle really does mean well, but he lets some stuff leak through sometimes, and tonight I'd really rather not deal with it."

Jhe h'leste frowns.  "Is there something I should know about?"

"You already do.  Well, I mean, it'd be hard for you not to, I guess."  I look to the side, blushing a bit.  "He's your brother, I'm sure you knew he was with Unkie once.  He keeps thinking about him.  And well... they did a lot of stuff that I don't really want to think ab--"

"Ah, you don't need to go any further.  I understand."  Jhe h'leste looks away as well.  I can tell by his expression that he's even less comfortable with the current subject matter than I am.  Which is gonna be a pain for him at dinner, but I've been Jhe 'brelle's babysitter for months now - someone else can take over tonight.  "Is the dinner tonight the reason why you think such things will be at the forefront of his mind?"

"Well, sort of."  I close my eyes.  "I made him explain the whole mess to me, and then I told him he needed to talk with Unkie about it and settle things with him, so I know it'll be pretty hard for him to keep the thoughts out of our connection.  I figured that you'd be enough to keep him calm, and you can mediate between those two a lot better than I can.  Plus, Katherine will be there... which I didn't really plan for, but it should keep things from getting heated, so maybe that works out."  My eyes light up.  "And those two will be so caught up in their awkwardness that it'll keep them from figuring out you two are in a relationship!  I'm brilliant!"  And then I beam, because I am.

Jhe h'brelle looks slightly horrified, but that's to be expected.  He isn't objecting, though!

"So, I just need a Poet to write a dream for me during dinner and I can sleep through the whole thing."  I smile up at him.  "Can that be arranged?"

He thinks about that after the initial horror has passed.  "Perhaps.  Or perhaps I can have you work on a task for me that will keep your mind clear of my brother's pining for a few hours.  After all, the right kind of wards can do wonders."

* * *
Elric
* * *

I don't want to talk and I don't want to think and least of all do I want to write, but isn't that always the way?  Besides, the little furry head butting against my hand and claiming my full attention is reason enough to put off my tasks.  Shenanigans can be so demanding, but it's part of their charm.  I keep meaning to inquire as to how I might have my own, but I fear the answer will be Poetry, and that brings me full circle again, doesn't it?

The door opens.  I try to stuff the shenanigan away, but she mewls in annoyance and evades my every attempt to oust her from my lap.  By the time I might hide her, it's too late - she's already within view of the entrant.

Stevane beams, then closes the door behind her.  "Mewgul!  This is where you've been hiding!  You little sweetie."  She leans down and smiles at the shenanigan, who answers her with high-pitched mewls.  Stevane scratches her ears.  "Aww.  You remember me."  She looks up at me during her last statement.

I... am admittedly confused.

"I recognize her because I made her, of course.  She was going to be one of mine, but I gave her to Lyric."  She ruffles Mewgul's fur.  "Who's a shenanigan?  Who's up to shenanigans?  You are."  She grins up at me again.  "How's Lyric?  He never writes."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

My brother answers the knock on his door with a terse mental nod for me to enter.  For a moment, I'm afraid that he somehow picked a few inconvenient details up from Stevane's mind.  But one look at his face when I'm inside rules out that possibility.  Poor Ebrelle is more nervous than I've ever seen him.

"Stevane is engaged in a task that has her behind some thick wards, which is why your connection is a bit blunted.  Nothing's wrong."

He nods, swallowing, then checks his reflection over to distract himself, adjusting stray hairs in his braid that don't actually exist.  "She told me.  I was expecting it."  The tension is bleeding through in his voice, his speech clipped and terse.  "I... here, I've finished this."  He picks up an envelope from his desk and hands it to me.  It has all the proper signatures and seals on it.  "The Kommissar will find it all in order.  All the necessary things.  Everything's seen to.  He'll have no question of authenticity."

I nod and take the letter, tucking it away for later operations.  I put a hand on his shoulder.  It's as tense as it looks, the muscles rigid.  "Ebrelle?  Are you going to make it through this?"

He bites his lip, then exhales in one long breath, his entire figure slumping from the motion.  "I'm going to talk with Luciprochoros about our differences.  Katherine will be there.  Stevane won't.  I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through this, Alestere.  I'm not sure how I got into this.  I feel trapped, and no one will be with me going through it."

I squeeze his shoulder.  "Now, now.  That's just not true."  I raise an eyebrow, admonishing my brother for suggesting he's alone in this.

His expression softens.  He considers me for a moment, his hackles settling down, his eyes coming into brighter focus.  "We should talk.  I imagine Luciprochoros won't be as early as you were, so there's time for it."  He gestures to one of the chairs.

I nod, making my way to my seat.  "Katherine's attending his end of things to ensure it all proceeds smoothly.  I came to you for much the same purpose.  They won't be early."  I sit as he does.  "What did you want to talk about, Ebrelle?"

"I'm sorry for what I did to you when you were Elete.  For everything."  His expression crumples.  "For... what I did to you when you were Alestere--"  He chokes off in tears.

I reach forward and rest my hand on his forearm.  "Did you have another nightmare?  It's alright, I'm not angry at you--"

"Nonsense, Elete, I remember what I did to you."  He glares at me.  "Don't you?"

I sigh.  "I'm Alestere."  Still, the question beckons the memories, which still sting even when recalled through the veil of another life.  After Elesse was split off from myself, Ebrellin-i became just as controlling as Mother had been, never allowing Elete to so much as be in a different room without permission.  If Elete stepped out of line, Ebrellin-i would punish him in ways that left behind bruises, and scars that Elete kept until he escaped to Radia.  It's so strange remembering Ebrellin-i then as opposed to before the whole nasty business with the knife.  Ebrellin-i had been kind to me, had almost been the mother that Thelea had never deigned to be, and was incapable of being.  Ebrellin-i's transformation terrified Elete, and still sends pangs of fear into me in the present.  I look up at my brother, counting all the differences between what's in front of me and what hurt me in the past.  The sorrow on his face is the most striking one.  "But I do have some memory of what's in the past, yes."  I hope that he gets the hint.  I don't hold it against him, but I'd like to keep my distance from those memories.

"You don't know, though.  What it was like then, watching you, watching myself take a whip to you, watching myself even collar you, watching all that as if I was some spectator far away in a crowd, but feeling myself do it just as sure as those were my own hands.  I couldn't even feel remorse, I couldn't regret, I was just stuffed into my own little corner, just as powerless as you were.  And how do I apologize for that, Elete?  Alestere, I'm sorry, I want to apologize even to Elesse, I'll plead with him as well, however many of you there were, just please listen.  I don't understand what happened to me in those years, even though I know exactly what it was.  I don't know how to take responsibility for things I can't take responsibility for, and I have no idea how to apologize for them."  He wipes away tears from his chin with the heels of his hands, then blots his face with the sleeve of his robe.  "I don't understand what happened.  You aren't the same person anymore, but I wonder if you still understand it better than I."

I look away.  "I still don't know why you're asking me, Ebrelle.  Especially... right now."  I mentally gather the fabric of time and tug a bit of it to the side.  No one will mind if it takes a little longer for Jhe o'Radia and Katherine to arrive.  I don't want them walking in on this, and a stitch in time saves me a glass of wine for later.

"Because on the hour I'll have to explain it to Luciprochoros.  What I did to him was worse than what I did to you, but I have a feeling the same person was responsible."

I close my eyes.  I knew that Ebrellin-i was Nul's puppet then, but I'd managed not to consider the implications until now.  "Give me a moment.  I will try to help you."

I think of Elete's memories of his brother, trying to see past the terror and see through Elete's eyes.  It's so difficult - at that point, Ebrillin-i no longer fully protected Elete from Mother's and Nul's energies, and sometimes outright allowed them in.  So many of the memories just turn into a blur of pain and fear and forced complacency.  It's hard to search through them, like keeping my head under murky water when all I want to do is break through to the surface and breathe again.  I keep looking, searching for even a glimpse of Ebrellin-i's face when he was at his worst.  And then, since it's the last thing from that time that I'd ever want to remember, I find it.

I was on my knees after being commanded to kneel.  Such orders wrenched at my chest, but I usually gave into them in the hopes that Ebrellin-i would be appeased into acting like my brother again.  Perhaps if I showed enough deference, if I took my steps with care, if I was quiet enough, I wouldn't upset him so anymore.  The way he loomed over me, the scowl on his face, showed no promise of that hope coming to fruition.  He slapped the whip against his palm, bringing my attention to the tight collar around my neck.  He told me I was forgetting who I belonged to, who protected me.  He ordered me to look at him in the eyes when he spoke to me.  I never wanted to look at him when he was like this, because it was when he terrified me the most, but I obeyed in the hope that he'd remember how much I loved him.  Shadows warped the planes of his face and crawled around his eyes.  His eyes were always the worst part - in them I could see how happy he was to be so far above me, even though emotion was hard to pick out in those solid white orbs--

My breath freezes in my chest.  I focus on the present again.

Ebrelle stares at me with wide eyes - green eyes now, all the white went into his hair months ago.  "You were crying out."

I shake my head, wiping away sweat.  "In the times you would hurt me, you were possessed by Nul.  I saw it in your eyes, and the shadows crawling across your skin.  I wish I'd have known then what that all meant, but perhaps I too was too far gone to be able to discern."  I swallow, settling my nerves.  "It's actually comforting, now that I understand what was happening to both of us.  It's not your fault at all.  I'm sorry I snapped at you for trying to explain yourself."

"I'm sorry it ever happened to you."  He looks down at the table, his green eyes very dark.

I pat his hand.  "I accept your apologies.  Now that that's done, don't needlessly dwell on our past.  We're different people now."

"But how do I explain it to Luciprochoros?  With Katherine there, Alestere?  How do I... how do I even start?"  Ebrelle begins to nibble on his fingernails, then snaps his hand away when he realizes what he might be doing to his manicure.

I pat his hand.  "Why don't you clean yourself up before he gets here?  Just think about dinner.  Talking will happen when it does."

He throws me an upset glance over his shoulder on his way to the mirror, obviously trying to decide if I'm daft.  I run my fingers through my hair, worrying whether it's been rumpled out of place.  "I'm the Blue Lord, Ebrelle.  I may not be able to talk to plants, but I can at least ensure that people talk in the proper order."

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

Ebrelle must want something.  He's never been this courteous to me in his life.  He's not even polite in that smooth-talking, manipulative way.  He's genuinely courteous.  It's... creepy.  He even made small talk.  Albeit, it was small talk with Katherine, who seems to be bouncing from having her progenitors in such close, amicable proximity so very much in recent days.  I suppose bouncy is the word, isn't it?  Either that or she's jumpy about something, and that would be strange.

And then there's Alestere, who might be the source of Ebrelle's conversational grace.  Our Poet King keeps living up to the Crown he's yet to wear.  Every time someone might stutter or make an awkward slip, he's there to smooth veneer over the rough places.

All, that, and there's really nothing of note that happens during the occasion that I looked forward to with so much dread.  I suppose I really must learn to relax.  The sooner I get over all that business with my mind getting attacked, the easier that'll be.  And, of course, there's simply getting used to Ebrellin-i again.

Ebrelle, now.  It's just Ebrelle.

He's not the same, and I keep trying to take comfort in that, but it comes up hollow.  You get hurt by a person, you get used by a person, you drag your life back out of their clutches... you sort of expect, after it's all said and done, to be able to look at that person and receive some sort of closure.  But there's none of that here.  The right person isn't here for that to happen.  And for all that I am, I don't know whether to be thankful for that.

Bury it all, forget it, and move on? Can people do that?  Forget those other people - can I do that?

So that's what I'm thinking through dinner, in-between the pleasantries and the chatter.  To be honest, I don't remember much of what anyone says for the most of it.  It really is just the sort of inane stuff you expect at a small family dinner at the end of a very long day.  So it's the moment I'm dabbing the corners of my mouth with my napkin, food settling in my stomach, thoughts sinking to the bottom of my brain in a pleasant coma, that Ebrelle says the words I'd never, ever expected to come out of his mouth.

"Luciprochoros, Katherine, I really must apologize to you both.  I've done so many things to hurt you and to destroy what could have been a family, and you deserve an explanation."  He's not looking at anyone us, gazing between Alestere and I at the place the walls join instead, but he looks more serious than I've ever seen him.  It's hard to see any emotion behind his eyes, but I'm one of the people defined by how accurately I see and how much I see, whether or not I'd like to turn it all off.  If I look for it, I can see just how sad he is about everything he's done.  For some reason, I feel I'm obligated to.  Heck, maybe I'm even entitled to, if he's finally offering me that mythical apology.

Except that behind that wall that's keeping his emotions at bay I can sense so much sorrow that I'm afraid to behold it all on purpose.

Alestere puts his hand on Ebrelle's back, smoothing over the fabric of his robe.  The touch gives Ebrelle enough stability to keep going.  "That is, if you will accept an explanation for my actions."

Nights left alone with the shouting in my head and the lies ringing between my temples.  Days spent worrying over whether baby Katherine would even be allowed to know me as a father.  All the fighting, in verbal arguments with 'Sy looming silently between us, in bed with no one to save me and Ebrelle holding all the ropes.  Broken as a lover, broken as a father, almost broken as a sovereign.  Curled up in the shadows of my room, alone, wondering: why?

"I would certainly be grateful to hear one."

Katherine bites her lip, looking from her Father to me, and says nothing.  She also doesn't look like she wants this to stop, or wants to leave.  Maybe she wants to know, too, why she could never have two parents at once as a child... why 'Sy raised her instead of either of us.

Ebrelle closes his eyes, takes a moment to reinforce his composure, then looks over to Alestere.  Alestere nods, but says nothing.  Something quieter than words might pass between the two brothers, but I won't spy on that.  Ebrelle twines his fingers together, then stares at his hands as he speaks.

"It's dreadfully difficult to think back on everything that I've done to others.  I try to quantify it all, to understand what it is that I have done.  I know it seems strange that I would forget my crimes, but there are many that I... can't quite remember in the first place."  His hands clench as his voice tightens.  "It is hard to remember things that you were not present for.  I wish that I didn't have to say that, that I could tell you in detail everything I've done... every way I've hurt Luciprochoros and coveted Katherine's keeping.  The simple truth is that I can't.  I... I know I did some of it.  I remember it like one remembers a shadow.  But I can't dredge up anything I did that I didn't... have help in.  Some of it... some of it I don't remember at all.  The Jherent N-Nul was my master, I was his puppet, and he made me dance as I wished.  It's frightening to remember the past and know that someone else was looking through your eyes... touching your lover, embracing your child, and using your mouth to tell such terrible lies in your own name."

I shudder, then wrap my arm around Katherine as her skin goes gray.

"I want to claim responsibility.  It's easier, I think, to feel as if I was the keeper of my own monster.  But I can't, much as I try.  I can't tell you why you were hurt so much, or why we didn't have a family.  The Jherent Nul could tell you that.  I can only express my sorrow and regret for not fighting harder, for not telling either of you during any of my moments of clarity just what was happening to me."  He swallows, having grown paler as well.  "But it would have cost Elete his life, of course, and apparently that wasn't my decision to make.  I'm sorry.  I didn't choose to be what I am, but what love I've ever expressed for each of you was true, and was often the result of me breaking my leash for a short time."

And the times that he did break that leash, well... well, I suppose those were good times.

I clear my throat.  "I suppose one of us should accept your apology, then."

Katherine raises an eyebrow at me, her face dead serious.

"Yes.  Both of us."  I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, then exhale.  I let it settle.  All those years, all that pain, finally allowed to pass away.  "Thank you for telling me, and for fighting when you could."

He nods, unable to look up at any of us.

"Father, Daddy, can we..." Katherine sighs.  "Let's just be a family now, okay?  Our weird little family.  Everything's in the past now."  She looks up at Alestere, as if to verify that.

He smiles.  "Everything in its proper place, yes."  He pats Ebrelle's shoulder.  "Perhaps you should call it an early night.  You look tired."

After that, it's the usual goodbyes and good nights.  Well, as close to usual as any of us can get.  I suppose normal is relative here.  Alestere sees Katherine and I out, nodding to Katherine as she leaves, then catching my arm before I clear the door.

There's so much tension in his face.  Maybe it was there this whole night - and in Katherine's as well.  Maybe that's what motivated Ebrelle's sudden apology.  "He really fretted over this evening.  He wasn't sure if he could ever apologize to you.  I'm not sure if I can count the number of times I've seen Ebrelle apologize in any of my lives on two hands.  I'm pretty sure I'd only need one to keep them all."

I smile.  That's certainly apropos.  "Thank you for helping him."

He winces.  "It was more work than you saw.  Stevane bowed out due to... well... his memories of you.  They can get very strong.  But he's..."  Alestere sighs.  "He's still fond of you.  Please remember that.  He's an arrogant ninny when it comes to other people, but that doesn't mean he still might not like a few of them."



I nod.  "Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugs.  "I haven't the faintest clue.  Maybe the whispers of the future, or maybe I'm dead tired and rambling.  I'll see him to his sleep.  Thank you, Jhe o'Radia.  Good night."  He nods to me, then closes the door.

I decide sleep is perhaps a wise idea, and ought to pursue it myself.

* * *
Elete
* * *

I can't see.  I can't open my eyes.  I'm lying down in bed, shaking so hard that I can't make out the tempo of my own heart.  It's cold, but that isn't what's caused the shaking.

I hurt so much.

Brother's somewhere else.  I can feel that.  I can always feel that.  It's our bond as brothers, as guardian and... treasure?  Is this what a dragon does to his treasure?  Is that why he does this to me?  I hurt so much and it's so dark.  I want to open my eyes but he ordered me to sleep.  I'm afraid to disobey.  I'm so afraid of him that I'm shaking.

It's too dark.  I need a lamp lit, at least.  A warm glow behind my closed eyelids.  The very thought of warmth would be preferable to this chill.  I'm always so cold these days, as if somehow someone has taken the warmth out of my chest.

I would hurt less if I'd stop shaking, but he frightened me so bad this time that I doubt I'll stop before I'm asleep.  There was no whip this time, but he hit me with the heel of his hand, and somewhere in the haze of his fury I remember him kicking me.  I don't think I've ever seen him so angry.  I just asked if I could have one of the Crux Radian's letters so that I could study their curious system of writing.  As with all of brother's fits of rage, I had no idea what was coming for me until I was on my knees.  There is no time to apologize when you are on your knees.  When there is time, it seems that the apologies curry nothing but the bruises that hurt the worst.  He almost hits as hard as Mother.  My cheek's swollen so badly that I squinted when that eye was open.

I just wanted to learn, to read new words.  I don't see why that's so bad.  I've nothing to do but sit all day in the rooms he orders me not to leave, no one to speak with but who he allows.  I'm allowed my flights of fancy in writing, when I can find the time for them, but I want to do more with words and he just won't let me!  It makes me so antsy now.  I'm not going to be able to sleep for at least an hour, at this rate.

Maybe a lamp will help.  Brother can't fault me for needing a lamp.  He can't just make me lie here in misery in the dark and expect me to sleep.  He loves me, surely he'd let me have a lamp.  I sit up, wincing at the twinges that run through my body as I do so.  I stop for a moment to ride through a wave of dizziness.

He was so angry with me this time.

After the bed stops lurching under me, I open my eyes.  The room is still dark, but I can make out the very edges of the lantern next to the bed, and the matches are next to it.  It's within easy reach of an invalid who often finds himself bedridden.  I take a match and strike it, but my hands are so shaky that I manage to break the match instead of lighting it.  It slips out of my fingers and falls to the floor, as if to mock me.

I steady myself.  I'll have light.  I can manage something so simple as lighting a lamp.  I don't have to have my brother do everything for me.

I manage to flick the next match into a pinpoint of flame that gutters out as soon as I move it towards the lamp.  I blame my impatience.  I try the next, and then two more, before wondering if I am really so inept that my brother's treatment of me is a valid recourse.  The next flares to life, bright as a star but so much warmer for me, and lives long enough to bestow its flame to the lamp.  I quickly crane my other hand to adjust the wick before another fumble occurs, forgetting about the lit match in my hand.  I don't notice it burn to the end until it bites my fingertips.  I curse and drop it, my fingers shaking so badly in response that my other hand twists the lamp's wick in the wrong direction.  The light goes out.  I'm in the dark, alone with my embarrassment.

A low chuckle creeps through the room.

I freeze in my bed, back stiff.  Even my shaking ceases.  My eyes dart back and forth, but it's too dark to make out a guest.  I grope for Ebrellin-i, hoping that perhaps he came back to check on me and snuck in when he saw my troubles with the lamp.  I hope, because anything else means that someone's in here with me that Brother didn't allow.  There are a lot of ways that a Xaillyndesse can die, but the most common cause is other Xaillyndessen.

My throat is spasming.  As the shakes come back, more furious than they were before I sat up, I try to swallow, I try to tell myself to stay calm, but every sense I possess rings with alarm.  I call out to my brother.  A cold hand clamps over my mouth before sound escapes it.

A match flares up.  The intruder strikes it, then holds it up between himself and I, grinning at me in the flickering yellow glow.  I recognize his face.  I know it for my own.  I realize it has to be a trick of the light.  It must be Ebrellin-i.  Those cold white eyes...

"I told you to sleep, brother."  His hand clamps tighter around my mouth.  "Close your eyes."

I close my eyes, ever the obedient brother.  The matchlight is warm and red through my eyelids.  Then it flickers, and with a sigh of my brother's breath, everything goes black.

His other hand pets my neck affectionately, then squeezes it until I finally stop shaking.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

It's a full minute before I realize that I'm shaking again because I've woken up.  Cold tingles crawl over my body.  I curl sideways, wrapping myself around Katherine.  She mumbles, then curls her arms around me.

"Alestere?  Everything oh--" She yawns.  "...kay?"

I nod against her chest.

"Bad dream?"  Her hand strokes over my back.  I realize I'm already drifting back to sleep.

"Not anymore," I say.  She mumbles something in response, tightens her arms around me, and lets out a tiny snore.

I don't even remember what exactly the dream was, and the few details I remember fade away as I fall into the sort of sleep that doesn't come with dreams.

* * *
Elric
* * *

Stevane has learned quite a few new card games since she was a little girl.

She flicks down another card in the next branch of her tree.  It's a numbered card from the red suit.  "Only thing I could play.  And there were royals in the other four colors on the Tree already, too.  If this had been a royal, I would have had a complete Court, and I could have changed the Tree's color!"  She shrugs.  "Guess it's one of those could-have been stories.  Anyway, I just lost that branch.  The Tree isn't dying or anything."  She takes the cards of the red-tipped branch in her card-tree and places them in the discard pile.  "Your turn."  She raises an eyebrow, grinning.  "Hey, you're doing pretty well for a beginner.  I tend to win the color change pretty fast when I play Ebony."

I shrug.  It's an interesting game.  Where did you learn it?

She laughs.  "Unkie came up with it a few years ago when he and Jhe h'Lete got drunk together.  I'm surprised they remembered all the rules the next day."  She taps the draw-pile.  "I forgot to tell you: you're first player, so as Ivory, after you draw your cards, you can put them in order to give yourself a more favorable arrangement for building your tree.  Since I'm Ebony, I have to play them how I draw them."

She watches as I look through my hand of five and then sort my cards in order.  It seems a bit strange that I can plan so far ahead, considering the Ebony player can place random cards on the tree during her turn.  I don't see any way to take that into account in my plans.  That might make things more difficult for me instead of lend me an advantage, you realize.  I make my play: just two cards.  If the branches get too long, they can't be played out anymore and have to be clipped.  I'd rather wait for better cards to come to me.

"Yes well," she tries to swallow down a giggle, "I told you two drunks invented it."  She plays all five of her cards across the tree, then draws a new hand of five without even glancing at their faces.  "It's interesting, though, seeing what different patterns emerge.  And, well, there is no endgame for either player.  If the Tree dies, we both lose.  So I think what's entertaining about playing Seed is watching what happens to it along the way."

It certainly utilizes the strange Aurocan card system well.  I try not to frown.  She's right.  I'm getting ideas as I play this game.  There's the strange places in the back of my mind where ideas used to churn up and turn into stories, back before Lyiannethe happened to me.  I can feel those places coming to life again.  I'm remembering how alive my mind used to be before I was taught Nul words and lost control of my own tongue.  More than ever, I want to write again, no matter how much I've been fighting it.

"Well, Audiva Rocale's full of trees, so it might have just started with Unkie joking to Jhe h'Lete about that.  But Jax actually made a pretty good game out of the Aurocan cards once, some sort of army system where you organize things into regiments and make battle tactic plans.  With five suits and five royals and the five seed cards, there's a lot of room for divisions and stuff.  I think that was right before he started his Armed training.  Guess he felt inspired."  She shrugs.  "I don't really like war games, myself.  I like games where you build.  I figured that's how you felt too.  So we're playing Seed."

Thank you.  I do mean it, really.  It's nice to feel ideas in my head instead of shadows.  Even the pressure to write feels nice, even though I've fought it off over the last few weeks.  I am having fun.

"That's good."  She reaches over and scratches Mewgul's ears.  The shenanigan twitches a paw in her sleep as she dozes belly-up on the side of the table, her wings spread out behind her.  Stevane tugs her tail, then looks back to her own cards.  She frowns.  "Hm.  Well that kinda makes for an interesting turn.  Wish I would've gotten this guy sooner!"  She lays the Red Emperor down on the base of a branch, then clears the cards from it.  Where the Red Emperor had been just moments before, she lays the Green Kommissar, where she forks off three cards that can start three new branches.  "Definitely gives me more room to work with.  Glad I didn't draw white, though.  Would have lost the whole limb."  She draws five new cards, then nods to me.  "Thanks for telling me so much about Lyric.  I do miss him.  And I've missed you, too, but I'm afraid I won't be able to come in very often and play cards with you.  I have a lot of work I'll be doing."  She pouts.  "So you're going to have to teach someone else the game, okay?"

I blink.  Someone else?

"Yeah, Jhe h'Leste said that he'll need you to teach the game to a few people for him.  I'm not sure why, but I'm not really complaining.  I needed something to do tonight besides sleep."  She smiles at me gratefully.  "Thanks for staying up with me.  I think I'll probably leave in an hour or two.  It should be alright by then."

She's been dodging any of my questions about what it is that her work is all about, but eventually I got the hint, just like I got the hint that she can't talk about where Myles is now, even though she thinks he's fine and they're having a wonderful relationship.  She has her secrets she needs to keep.  It's strange watching her do so with such grace, especially since I can remember the giddy, bouncy child she used to be, chattering on about anything on her mind.  But we all grow up, I suppose.

You're welcome, Tidbit.

"Oh!"  She jumps.  I jump in reaction.  Mewgul wakes up with an inquisitive purr-meow.  I wonder if I perhaps may have been wrong about that growing-up observation.  "Gerald sent a letter from Rhivend!  You should have gotten a letter from Jhe Camden.  Jhe h'Leste wanted to make sure you knew he can forward a reply from you to Jhe Camden.  He's been kind of antsy to hear back, apparently."  She smiles.  "I can't blame him, I probably feel the same way about Lyric.  He shows up after all these years, then suddenly he's gone again.  Jhe Camden's the one that had to leave, in his case, but still, I'm sure he misses you.  So make sure to write back, okay?"  And there is only a little edge to her voice in that part, and perhaps it's the only time I've really been sure of why the Poet King sent her in.

And I nod, because I am smart.  Then I look down to the cards.  Are there any rules I've missed?

"Ah!  Let me see.  The blue suit's kind of tricky.  You can insert a blue card into the middle of an already-built branch, so you always need to keep an eye on them..."

* * *
Rahellene
* * *

It takes over a full day of travel to arrive at my home.  As far as the maps tell me, it should be a shorter trip, but our dear new Kommissar has plotted a very complicated route to fool anyone who should try to track him.  It's quite clever, as it utilizes the land more than it does any special tricks or magic that might call more attention to us simply by his using them.  I'm used to more flashiness than that.  The change is quite refreshing - and also impresses me somewhat, which is good considering that this man will be responsible for my safety throughout the forseeable future.

He's also quite the pleasant conversationalist, once disabused of a few preconceived notions.  I'm sure a man in his position is used to getting certain things that he wants.  I haven't stated it outright, but I've made it plain that I shall not be one of those things.  I crawled into a bed to get myself out of my Father's cage.  Once was enough to teach me how much power I could have lost from that decision.  I'm lucky that boy was so stupid.

I suppress a shudder.  It's not pleasant to consider how additionally lucky I was that he was my brother, but perhaps that latter fact is the true reason why I disfavor using the bedroom for tactical maneuvers.

Besides, Jhe Calyx is a bit of a... ruffian in appearance.  My tastes don't run in that direction.

"It's interesting, surveying an Empire."  I take in a deep breath, relishing the taste of the air, the cool climate, the energy of the forests around me.  It's like leaves brushing my skin.  "At this rate, I'll have seen the length and breadth of it before I see the Palace again."

The Kommissar chuckles, black gloved fingers curling under his chin.  "Almost.  I haven't brought us near the Rhivend lands, for fear of what treachery might lie there, and quite a bit of suspicious activity lies eastward.  Still, the central Empire should be quite familiar to you by now, my Princess."

He does so love proper titles.

"It's certainly a start.  Tell me, has anyone been in contact with the outer prefectures' Kings and Queens?  Certainly I'd think there would be some alarm by now.  There's been no proper ruler to address the people's concerns in months."

An odd frown perches on his face.  "Your Father's doppelganger has seen to it that communication is kept, with the advisement of myself and those in Crux Radia who command him."  The sentence must taste very bad in his mouth, telling by the expression he makes during it.

I don't blame him.  I want to gag any time I think of Jhe Iaen.  I'm amazed at his ability to be a more unlikeable man than Father.  "It's good that some pretense of appearances is being kept, then.  Still... hasn't anyone noticed anything strange about the current situation at the Palace?"

The Kommisar chuckles, a sound low and pleased enough to remind me that he is by nature a very dangerous man. "It's not the provincial leadership's place to worry about royal affairs. And believe me, Princess, they have been kept acutely aware of that fact for longer than the Palace has existed. Even if some servants did escape the Palace massacre, they'd be hard-pressed to rally support from outside. That simply isn't how Aurocan politics work." He shrugs and leans back. "I can't deny that it's part of the function of my office to propogate such conditions. It's been useful to a certain degree thus far, though I must admit hat such an arrangement is intrinsically weak against a Radian incursion. Such a situation as we have now isn't something that Jhe o'Audiva Rocale foresaw happening after he moved the center of government so far away from Crux Radia's borders. Certainly it would be seen as an imposition if the Radians weren't acting so closely in collusion with my office." It's funny how, as he says these things so lightly, I can still tell how seriously he's taking this problem. And make no mistake... Jhe Calyx views Radians in control of the Aurocan Palace as a problem.

My daddy's the Emperor of Radia and even I still agree. In fact, maybe my agreement is because of that. Get to know Daddy just a little bit and you start protecting your borders. He's nice, but... he's clever, and ambitious, and there's just something about the gleam in his eye when he talks about running an Empire. Daddy's inspiring. He's also competitive.

I'm thinking. I try to think like him, but I also, I admit, try to think like Father. "Everyone from the Palace is dead now, then." I try not to think about my dryad sisters from the garden. Surely Jhe Calyx just means servants, not all living creatures. "And the provinces believe what they're told."

He snorts. "It's what they're there for." The derision in his tone rankles in me, but I simply make note of my reaction instead of giving any voice to it. It's not the Kommissar's duty to care for the people in my Empire.

I hold myself up straight, shoulders back, chin high. "Is there any resemblance between my Father and I?" I keep sight of the Kommissar's green eyes and take note of every nuance of his reaction. I won't let him lie to me.

He cocks his head, taking a moment to take me in again, assessing everything that he can see of me. "I wasn't allowed to be in your Father's presence much. He detests my office and those who serve under it. My judgment only counts for so much, Princess." He inclines his head towards me. "But my tongue gives me away. You carry yourself well, and your face calls to him. No one would question your legitimacy... especially not in front of me." He pats the ceremonial sword hanging from his belt while we both continue pretending that the sword is merely ceremonial. "But I doubt force will be necessary. Your Father never needed military force against his own people.  He schools his expression.  "Not the provincial ones, in any case."

I don't say anything.  I just closely inspect his face, as if I'm looking for a single flawed pore, until he gets the hint from the scrutiny. He regards me again, this time taking a different kind of measurement. Through it all, he still looks as if this amuses him. Perhaps it honestly does.

"I take it that you have a bit of interest in the rest of the story." He peeks out of the window. "We've still a bit of time before you're returned to your home. Perhaps I shall tell you of the dangers your Father has had to defend against within his own Empire."

* * *
Calyx
* * *

I must give the Princess all due credit. She picks up on the political and militaristic details of her Empire quickly and with little need for clarification. I appreciate a keen student of the games that I play every day – even more, I appreciate teaching a person who I'll likely never have to compete with on the board. She'll further my own ends, in fact. Or I'll further hers. It works out the same.

"The important part is that I'll have a protection detail on you at all times. You'll likely never notice them. Both Aurocan and Radian agents, though, so if you do happen to see one uniform or the other, don't be alarmed. They're supposed to be there." What I don't say, of course, is that the Radian agents will be there to ensure that none of my agents are Thelea and Xen loyalists. The Princess will have plenty enough games of her own to play without having to worry over my board.

I don't want her curbing her own actions, most of all. Not only is she my Princess, but she wants to make changes. She could make changes. And those changes will be in favor of Auroca, not Radia.

The rest of our trip passes pleasantly enough. Soon the Palace is before us, its broken glory bathed in the early morning light. I warned the Princess a little, of course... but not enough.

I feel the state of this building speaks well enough on its own, really. As she regards it for the first time, there's shock in her face and her frame, but I can see her listening to what it's telling her. I can also see that she's angry.

"The previous Kommissar did this to my home?"

I shrug. "He had help. The Radians made the first strikes, but I'll not blame them for bringing the pestilence within under control. Jhe o'Audiva Rocale's rather extreme security measures also came into play, sadly." I clear my throat. "Which is why we don't go downstairs, Jhe Rahellene."

She scoffs. "Father and his overgrown toys? No surprise. Are the upper levels stable, though?"

I raise an eyebrow at her quick dismissal of the dangers in Jhe o'Audiva Rocale's laboratory, but let it pass with no comment. "There are rooms and suites on the ground floor that were left whole. The facade took the most damage, to be honest. Outward appearances are poor, but the structure within is mostly intact. And we've had a great deal of the rubble within cleared."

"Mm." She nods. "Let's go in and have a word with the figurehead, then."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

Here I am, up far earlier than I should be.  Kathe's figure is an inviting crescent shape nestled under the covers of my bed.  I resist temptation.  I've... been compelled.

Sometimes fate calls you to do strange things, and when you are a Blue Lord that is quite a bit more literal.  I can't sleep any more.  If I were asleep now, I would miss something important.  There's a feeling that tells me this, and I can't ignore it.

Well, to be honest, I'm far from ignoring it in the first place.  Truth be told I'm clinging to this feeling like a mountain climber clutching a fraying rope, praying that it'll hold him until he finds a handhold.  My conversational and diplomatic abilities may have come in handy recently, along with my ability to reason and help others find their brilliant ideas, but I'm... worried.  For a Blue Lord, I sure have been very present-bound.

It doesn't fit the facts.  Elete wasn't exactly in his prime - he was sickly and being influenced by the Crown's strange energies.  But he had no worries when it came to talking with the future and past.  Elesse wasn't exactly methodical or even very sane, but he still had prescience, and a certain blind knack for doing the right thing.  Even if I'm using that same knack right now, I don't have that same wild confidence to my doings.  I have the exact opposite of confidence, in fact.  I have a million doubts about myself.

But something's about to fix that.  I just have to wait and see.  And that's why I've left my bedroom, and why I'm standing in the receiving room of my quarters, flanked by two empty armchairs, as if someone's about to come in and talk with me.  Because there's some sense I have, some hunch, that someone is in fact just about to be here with me to help me sort everything out.  Maybe a future version of myself.  That's my biggest hope, in fact - someone who really knows what's going on, who has it all together by the time his time's come around.  And if I'm talking to a future version of myself, that means I'm the real Blue Lord, and not some sort of pretender.

My eyes flick over to the Crown, sealed away in its case of all my important stuff.

It'd mean I'm not a fake.

I think I see something out of the corner of my eye, and look up to greet someone... but it's nothing.  I'm still alone.  I adjust my hair in the mirror.  The bed hasn't done much damage, it seems.  That's nice.  I didn't give my hair a proper brushing when I arose, after all.  I was in too much of a hurry.  But the Crown looks fine with it, so no harm done.  It's a bit cocked, though.  I raise my hands to adjust the tilt of it, then blink when my hands come upon nothing.  The hands in the mirror adjust the Crown, though.

The Crown I'm not wearing.

Myself smiles at me.  "Thanks for the reminder."  He frowns.  "Is it straight?  I see you, not myself.  Which makes the mirror a bit unuseful for the regular mirror-type things."

I try to get my mouth around words, but they're just not coming to me, and I suppose that's why I'm Poet King, of course.

My reflection laughs, mirth plain on his face.  My face.  "Oh, I never do remember to slow down for this part.  Yes, yes, you're talking to your reflection, but it's talking back!  And I'm not quite your reflection, am I?  A few things are off.  And now you're wondering if you're still dreaming, but I assure you, Alestere, you are awake."  His mouth twists to the side.  "Funny, that.  I'm used to Elete, maybe the odd Elesse or Elessandre, once or twice an Ales... you're my first proper Alestere!"  He grins, showing me two rows of my own perfect white teeth.  "Pleased to meet you, Jhe Alestere."

I give him a silent nod, then manage to mentally claw for my tongue.  "The pleasure is mine, Jhe..."

He smiles, more of a polite gesture this time than a reflection of real pleasure.  "Alestere.  I never had to change a name.  I survived our brother the first time around, you see."  He spreads his hands.  "The next question is usually what I'm doing here, or possibly why, or even a broader question of what's this wrong thing that's happening.  They all blend into one another.  You see, I'm the only one of us that can talk to us all, since I'm the original."  He sees me blink, then preempts my question.  "And by us, I mean all of ourselves.  All the alternate versions, the weaving timelines, the different decisions and lifelines and tragedies and happenstances.  The strokes of luck or random genius, the plodding decisions, the middle-of-the-night cunning.  There are a lot of us, Alestere, a lot of different versions of you and me.  You talk to them, sometimes.  Future and past selves."  He smiles.  "But you don't think of them as alternates, do you?  You think of them as simply 'Myself'.  But the differences of past and future are enough to separate even them from who you are right now, and with all the vagaries of time and whatnot... well, there certainly are a lot of us to meet.  And so it's taken me quite awhile to get to you.  I'm sorry - you've probably needed my help sooner."

I bite my lip.  "I haven't been able to talk to my future or past selves of late."

He smiles.  He smiles with my face, and I just won't get used to that.  It's my exact face.  Exact outfit, too.  The only difference is that the Crown's on his head.  He must just be manipulating my perception, then, instead of truly using the mirror as some sort of portal.  I imagine an alternate self that had never been killed by Ebrelle would appear at least a bit different in appearance.  "It's difficult, sometimes.  You're young.  You're new at this.  You don't have anyone to ask who could be more experienced with being a Blue Lord.  If you could talk to a future version of yourself, you could ask, but then you wouldn't need to, would you?  A common hole to get stuck in.  Self-advice gets cyclical.  It's why speaking to an alternate helps.  Breaks the loop, as it were."

"If you're from an alternate timeline, then what's the worth of advising me?  You haven't been through the events I'm about to go through.  You've been through your own, alternate life."  I cross my arms, then watch him cross his.

He then uncrosses his arms and taps the Crown on his head.  "Because I've got this, and you don't."  He looks over my shoulder at the Crown in its case.  "You're not the first self I've talked with who found it inadvisable to wear the Crown.  You're right to fear it, you know.  Wise to not wear it yet.  In your timeline, it's not the proper time yet.  But if you miss the moment you're supposed to wear it, then everything will be for naught.  I'm here to make sure you don't lose that opportunity forever."  He nods to me.  "It won't be for awhile yet.  But with you unable to hear your future, I'm the only one who can tell you which way to steer, when the most dire times come about.  I'm certain that once I've guided you to the point where you wear the Crown, you'll have no more worries when it comes to hearing your past or future.  I've already done it hundreds of times, if not... thousands."  He notes the surprised expression on my face.  "There are quite a lot of us, you know."  He laughs.  "But only two of us with this same name!  Maybe that shall make you my favorite.  I always did like my name best."  He sighs, weary.  "You're about to be caught talking to your own reflection.  Best not have that bother right now."  My reflection becomes crownless.  Something about it gains a youth, or an innocence, that the other Alestere didn't have.  Then again, if he's advised thousands of Blue Lords like myself... I wouldn't doubt he'd have more of an age to him.  Goodness, an Alestere that my brother had never killed... I wonder how that ever happened...

"Alestere?  What are you doing up?"  Katherine's huddled in the doorway.  She suppresses a yawn, then looks at me all cross.  "The bed's gotten cold, and you're in here staring at your reflection."

I shake my head, then run a hand through my hair.  "I got a bit restless and paced for a bit.  I suppose I could catch another hour or two--"

She grabs me then, dragging me into my bedroom, and we get around to something that's not restful but warms the bed nonetheless.

* * *
Calyx
* * *

I didn't expect Jhe Duhaine to hand me a letter as soon as I approached him.  After all, it was almost a day ago that I was at the Radian Palace.  Surely they didn't forget something?  What more could Jhe o'Radia want?

I examine the letter.  Jhe o'Audiva Rocale's seal is on it.  I nod at the man before me who looks like my King.  "I'll see to this right away."  I turn and find somewhere private to open the thing.  Spies are everywhere, and only some of them are mine.

"FATHER!  It's been so long!"  I turn back to watch Jhe Rahellene strangle Jhe Duhaine in the semblance of a reuniting embrace.  "I love you so much, Father!  Have you missed me as much as I've missed you?"

"Un... likely... dear!"

I leave the two of them to their devices.  If Jhe Duhaine doesn't survive the encounter, it won't be that sorrowful of an occasion, and he can surely be replaced.

* * *

I bite my lip.  I really hadn't planned on meeting Jhe Stevane again in my life.  I have, in fact, arranged my schedule to prevent travesties such as that from occurring.  But my monarch does have his orders.  And I've scrutinized every bit of this letter - his own hand wrote this, and I see no sign of duress, no hidden pleas for assistance.  This letter does in fact represent his will.

It's not exactly the reply I expected to receive when it came to the traitor and his little co-spy.  I'd rather looked forward to their deaths.  I have little spaces in my calendar that I block off to enjoy things I've caused, and now they're pardoned, and I'm going to have to cross out a few of those spaces, and that doesn't make me happy at all.

However.

There are a few intriguing bits of promise in this letter, and it's... it's just enough for me not to cause something very unfortunate to happen to my sister-in-law before she arrives in... Lyiannethe.  Oh goodness, why Lyiannethe, of all places?  It hasn't even been cleansed fully yet.

Oh, wait, no.  On the border, near Lyiannethe, in one of those neutral places between both Empires.  Demilitarized and boring.  And secret, very secret.

Well, that could work.  And it will have to, because apparently she'll meet me there today, and I've only got so long to make it there.

On the one hand, it's rather a shame: I'd looked forward to seeing Jhe Duhaine terrorized by the King's daughter.  On the other hand, I'll likely avoid some sort of life-threatening catastrophe by leaving this space for awhile.  I brief my agents on the situation, brief the Radian agents as well, to make sure whichever of my agents are actually backstabbing cretins have a reason to behave... and then I'm off.  Wonderful.

* * *

Right. The most boring place in the world for me: it's right here, south of Lyiannethe's border. Lyiannethe, by the way, is the creepiest place in the world for me, so you can imagine the sheer pleasure I feel right now.

The most boring place in the world is named Treaty. And while I suppose it makes a logical sort of sense that it's the safest place for me to be right now, I choose not to enter it until I see the Radian caravan approach. I don't want to be inside Treaty any longer than I absolutely must. I'm even surprised the Radians chose the venue. As far as meeting locations go, no one ever seems to like Treaty, which either says a lot about the place or a lot about everyone.

It's just a hill, from the outside. Go inside the wards (but only with good intentions in your heart!) and you'll see it's actually a well-kept, quaint stone building, cheerfully painted, with a little wooden porch and a garden. Were one to have malice in his heart upon drawing close to a hill, he would never have the pleasure of even beholding such a grand... thing. Place? House.

I admit that there has been a time or two in which I kicked myself out by imagining kicking a kitten. One ill-intentioned thought for another living creature is usually enough to do it. This place just has no tolerance for even the very thought of plotting against someone. It's absolutely terrible. I can't do my job in there at all.

Well, any part of my job that I enjoy.

But yes, it is the one place in the world that I won't have to worry over whether one of my own agents will backstab me. I've even considered using it as a method to screen out the Xen loyalists, but they wouldn't get kicked out just for thoughts of killing me. There's all sorts of people my agents are supposed to be thinking about killing all the time. Getting kicked out of Treaty is a job hazard for us all.

I wonder which of the damned Radians thought this was a good idea.

Ah well. Time to have purity in my heart and goodness in my soul and suppress the urge to vomit. I walk in, look over the porch. It's been painted recently, the white very quaint on the wood, and very tasteful against the light stone of the house walls. A few hanging plants sway in the gentle breeze. It might be my imagination, but I think the sun is actually a bit brighter in here, and while I've seen it have a winter, it's always a particularly mild one.

I wait at the porch steps and hope to all the tortured spirits of my ancestors that the songbird perched on the rail doesn't erupt into harmonious birdsong. That happened once. I think one of the Armed shot at it.

"Ah, are you having a discussion today?" A voice made for song lilts through the screen door of the house, preceding its owner: a black-haired, blue-eyed woman who appears to be in her early middle ages. She totes a pitcher and three cups, then gestures with the cup-hand at a quaint white wicker glass-top table with matching patio chairs.

I take a seat, not answering her. Of course there's to be a discussion. Why else would she be bringing out three cups?

She sets one in front of me, then sets down the other two, then pours a cup of cold milk tea for me. "Sugar?" She smiles at me like a cat, her eyes hooded as if she's up to mischief. Which I always suspect she is, but I'm in no position to prove it.

I shake my head.

She tsks, patting my arm with long, graceful fingers. She has the mannerisms of her mother, in a way: graceful, polite. But her hands lack that twist of brutality locked in the knuckles. "You can speak here, you know. That's why this place was made."

My brows draw together. "Jhe Diyanilithia, you do realize how hard it is for me to indulge in idle chit-chat with you? The Crown has yet to retract your mother's order to have you killed on sigh--"

...And now I'm on a grassy hill, surrounded by a world of green, and notably without my tea. I put my palm to my forehead, grunt, and try to get out any curse words on the forefront of my mind. None come. Not now, of course, when it would be convenient. I close my eyes, get murder off of my mind even if it's part of my duty, and then walk back down the hill. I'm going to try to enter Treaty again. If I hurry, I'll be kicked out again just in time to greet Jhe Stevane.

* * *
Calyx
* * *

I'm not sure which is stranger: seeing Jhe Stevane in an Armed uniform, or seeing what she's done to it.  I know the Armed marks of rank well.  They're a bit discreet, and often not followed to the letter in times of open battle, so that younger, more inexperienced soldiers can't be singled out.  Jhe Akribastes here is wearing the standard marks for a non-ranking Armed with no division affiliation, which makes sense considering her Arms exploded through my predecessor only a few months ago.  Perhaps she's embarrassed that she can't display more rank in this meeting, then, because that's the only reason I can think of for her stuffing lace inside the cuffs and under the bottom edge of her jacket.

Then again, when I reflect on Jhe Elete's usual attire, this may just be something that Poets do.

She frowns up at me as I sit on my hill, smoking a cigarette.  Obviously she is wondering why I'm not in Treaty.  "There's no smoking inside."

She raises an eyebrow.  "Ah."  She gives me another dubious look.

"What?"

"Nothing."  She crosses her arms and looks to the side for a moment, then looks back up at me.  "This is just the most awkward meeting I've ever been to."

I grin.  "Not to worry.  It'll only get worse."

She laughs, breaking that strange pinched face of hers.  I've got to admit that it's a relief - the more she frowns, the more she looks like her Father.  Especially in that uniform.  At least she looks a great deal more stable now than she did when I first met her.  I have less of an urge to duck when she so much as looks at me.

"You can go in, you know.  Don't let me hold you up."

She shakes her head.  "We'll go in together."

I chuckle.  "What's the matter, girl, you don't trust me?"

"Nope.  Well, a little.  Kind of.  But this place is creepy."

I keep looking at her.  I'm not moving anywhere yet.  My cigarette's not done.  And she's got something more to say, I think.

Her mouth twists to the side in a dubious expression.  "And frankly, I don't get Jhe h'brelle's instructions for how to get inside.  He has this amazing ability to not speak very clearly about things he thinks I won't understand, and I'm not sure if he'll ever figure out that the 'confuse me on purpose' approach doesn't make me pick up on things any quicker."

Wait.  I draw my brows together.  "Jhe h'brelle?"

"Augh!"  She lifts her hand to her mouth, then makes a flustered bow that's not really in the direction of anyone in the area.  "My apologies.  Jhe o'Audiva Rocale."  My, her cheeks are burning.  What a strange girl.

...Hold on, does she call my King by a nickname?

"Alright.  Get up here and we'll talk about stuff."

She narrows her eyes.  "That's not Treaty up there.  And what stuff?"

"Not Treaty-type stuff.  Just... stuff.  Current events. What the hell is going on with my King, as you seem to know and I seem to not.  Negotiations can happen when I feel like going inside Treaty again."  I light up another cigarette.  "And since we have lots of stuff to talk about, it's okay that I don't feel like going back in anytime soon.  Here, I've got some spares if you want one too."

Jhe Stevane contemplates this for a bit.  Or at least stands there with a thinking-face on.  Hard to tell the difference with an Akribastes brat.  Then she wrinkles her nose.  "I'm not smoking.  But I'll talk to you.  I know how it is."  She climbs up the hill, then takes care to sit on the upwind side of me.  She doesn't make a point by keeping her distance, though.  Then again, since her Arms are knives (if they're still just knives by now), staying close keeps me within reach of her potential strike.

Nice to know we both trust each other.  I gesture towards her with a cigarette.  "You're sure?  They're really quite nice."

"No, but thank you."  She smiles, and it might actually be genuine.

I lead her back on track with a rolling gesture of my hand.  "You know how it is?"

"I do?"  She cocks her head.  "Oh!  Sorry.  Yes, I know how it is, not getting news, people you care about not bothering to tell you what's happened to them, people you work for not slowing down enough for you to keep track of in their flurry of things-to-do.  And then suddenly you're remembered when they want something."  She looks up at me.  "It's probably not a thing like that for you, is it?"

I shake my head.  "Not entirely.  Well, bits of it.  Maybe.  Couldn't really say."  And I don't really want to.  "What's going on, then, with 'Jhe h'brelle'?"

She smiles, the corner of her mouth tucking up wryly into her cheek, the expression so much like one Letitcia would make that for a moment, I don't know what to do.  Then she's Jhe Stevane again, junior Judgebrat, and it's okay.

And then she starts talking, and I stop paying attention to ironic resemblances and start measuring the gaps between what she says and what her face says.  Everyone has much more information in them than they'll ever say out loud, no matter how genuine they ever appear to be.  Besides, why get only one testimony when you could get at least three at once by paying the proper amount of attention?

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I like Treaty just as much as the average Armed does – that is to say, I hate it. Sitting here in one of the coaches, I'm just glad I'm not in it. It doesn't surprise me one bit to see Jhe Calyx smoking on the hill instead of actually inside the meeting place. I'd be wary of Stevane joining him there instead of going on inside, but there's other people keeping an eye on her – and him – that can do something if something needs to be done. Besides, it's highly unlikely he'll pull anything now.

We're really just here to wait for her to get us clearance to go into Lyiannethe. And to keep me company during the wait, I've got some reading to catch up on.

You know when somebody breaks contact with you for awhile, and you get angry at them for it, but after enough time passes you start to feel alright with it... maybe even happy that you don't have to deal with them? Right when you relax and assume you're safe, of course, is when that person decides to contact you again.

'Sy wrote. He wrote me a letter. In his way, of course – he couldn't just send me a letter like normal, oh no. He sent a report. Sealed all official, addressed to top officers only, my department. Which means it's for me, but just writing Katherine wouldn't do. He had to go through the proper channels.

I suppose I shouldn't be so angry about him sending field correspondence, making requests that I dispense certain information, keeping me up to date on what's happening out in the desert. Some of this is very important. Some of these things, I really did need to know. And since he just so happened to send in his report at the same time as Jhe Kevrin, I can start to coordinate when it comes to Jhe Lyric. He's become our dear lucky loose cannon... and as of late, our chicken farmer.

(I'll have to ask Jhe Elric if I can see the reports Jhe Lyric's been sending in. They must be hilarious.)

But it's not all business in that letter. Some of it... some of it is oh so very personal.

I really must apologize for making you stay in the capitol, Kathe. I know you would love to be out here, in the thick of things. The fact of it is, I need you there so much. I worry everything will fall apart if you're not there on the other end, holding all the fraying ends together and weaving them back in like you always do. I suppose it's my punishment that I miss you terribly.

Of course he picks now to say that. He leaves me smoldering, then waits for long after the fever died down before he finally applies the balm. He always picks the most annoying times to apologize, and I swear at times he's almost as bad as Gerald at pissing me off.

And thinking about that, I miss him, of course. Again. I'd hoped...

Well, I'd hoped Alestere could make it better. That's what I'd hoped. And he has! And we really should talk soon about some things.

What is your opinion of Jhe h'Logos? Is he doing his job well? Do you two get along? I remember how it was with Elete.

...Oh dear. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Elete was just so damn stubborn, but he always needed help. I hope Jhe Alestere isn't afraid to ask for it. Keep an eye on him for me, would you?

I will, 'Sy. And if only you knew how closely.

It won't be much longer that I'm away. I know you can do this for me. I know you can be strong, and I know there's plenty to keep you occupied in Beleth. You've likely discovered a few new things to keep you busy already, haven't you?

Ha ha.

Please stay safe. We've had so many close calls. I can't--

There's a bit scratched out there. Looks like he re-started the sentence, or scratched some bits out here and there.

The Empire can't lose you now. You're too important. So please remember that.

It might have read 'I can't lose you now. You're too important to me.' But I can never tell with 'Sy, and I hold him to the words he sticks with at the end.

I'm so tired of being a failsafe. A bargaining chip. An excuse to take a risk.

My thumb twitches over the gauze on the stump that was my left index finger. Gevurah was happy to take it off of my hand. It waits in Beleth and it's as much insurance as anyone needs if I die. Which I'm not going to do, but you see? I'm being safe. I'm considering others. I cut off some of my flesh just in case they need to bring me back. Father will keep it preserved for as long as he can. We just need the day.

I'll be back soon. Then we can go wherever you want. Soon enough there'll be nothing to worry about and nothing to regret. I love you, Katherine. I miss you so very much. Also please remember to make Gerald send in reports every day in case he gets it in his head to get arrested. Oh and keep me appraised of the enemy movements in Rhivend. The Peacekeeper sends in his own reports but I need your appraisal of the situation too--

Then he's all business again, as if he had never said 'I love you'.

Maybe he never had.

* * *
Calyx
* * *

The girl stands, then stretches her arms over her head, yawning. She sits back down, stretching out her legs, careful not to get grass stains on her white uniform.

I chuckle. "Don't they come in black?"

She twists her mouth to the side. "But I look so dreadfully pale in black." Ah yes. Outside the Aurocan lands, and sometimes within them in the rural areas, and the places where hill people blood taints the peasantry, there's a bit of a stigma against overly pale skin. A pity for her that Poets seem to spend so much time indoors. She brushes dust off of her sleeve. "And white seemed more... diplomatic." She shrugs, then looks sidelong over at me, measuring her words carefully. "I've never done something like this before. Am I doing it wrong?"

I try no to burst out laughing, but I fail for the most part. She looks rather off-put by that. I only chuckle at her. "You're asking the enemy if you're negotiating with him properly?"

She glares death at me, crosses her arms, and pouts. This is not a tactic I have seen tried before in my line of work, and I must say, it's actually somewhat effective. While I'm still happy to have ruffled her feathers, I feel a tiny bit ashamed, deep down inside, that I've picked on a little girl.

...Then my eyebrows get warmer than they've ever been before.

* * *
Calyx
* * *

There's really nothing nothing more emasculating than having your wounds tended to by a person you're supposed to have killed sometime by now while she clucks her tongue over "--playing dangerous games on my roof. Really now. Jhe Akribastes, I hope you've apologized to him."

"Please don't make her do that," I grunt, my eyes closed. I already made the mistake of not listening at first to Jhe Diyanilithia's instructions to close them, and that salve stings like a bitch. There's just not a lot of instincts that go well with my profession that also get along with the idea of closing my eyes around attackers.

Jhe Diyanilithia continues to dab at my brows, tsking. "It's no good to encourage poor manners among the young, Jhe Calyx. Really now."  Her tone changes, her voice pitched in a different direction.  "I've seen the Judge's skill in raising his young, missy. I know you were taught to behave better than that." She sniffs.

"I..." By Jhe Stevane's voice, she is choosing her words carefully. "I am dreadfully ashamed by my lapse in etiquette and judgment, Jhe... Xaillyndesse, but I would hate to foist unwanted words upon a person who has not only not requested but respectfully declined an apology from me."

Jhe Diyanilithia claps her hands softly, the fingers patting together, the palms not meeting. I know the gesture well. "What a splendid demur. Did my darling brother Eleth-travente teach you that one? I'd recognize his form under any accent."

"Ah! You're a relative of Jhe h'Le-- Jhe h'Logos? He's going by Alestere now. He's mostly only gone through the trouble of informing the Poets of the change, though, since he's frightfully busy. If you'd like to send along a letter to him, I can guarantee its safe delivery."

And they go on like that for awhile, all politeness and catching-up and whatnot, as my eyebrows grow back and I force my brain to think happy thoughts. I don't want to find out what'll happen to my face if I get kicked out of Treaty in the middle of being healed. At the very least, Jhe Diyanilithia has found someone else to babble on at besides me.

"Actually, I'd very much be grateful if you could pass along a letter to Jhe o'Radia as well." Now that I can open my eyes, I can see the secret little smile the Xaillyndesse gets when she speaks that name. "I'll have a letter for darling Ebrellin-i as well, but I don't expect you can--"

"As it just so happens--"

I sip my tea and let the apologies and manners and explanations slip by and blur. Eventually Jhe Diyanilithia will putter away and write her letters, and we'll be to business. Since she has so very much to write, that happens quite a bit faster than normal. She does go on sometimes.

Jhe Stevane turns to me, a little exhausted, then nods to me. "We were saying?" She sips her tea.

"You were apologizing for causing bits of a fellow diplomat to up and combust." I close my eyes and rub my brow, which is more just an excuse to inspect Jhe Diyanilithia's handiwork. Does one often feel their eyebrows? I don't. I've still no idea if they look silly right now.

I look up in time to see that Jhe Stevane's mouth is still wide open. Her own perfectly unburnt brows, drawn together, obviously have much to contest. "I thought you said you didn't want an--"

I wave my hand. "Not in front of her. That's embarrassing." I gesture towards myself tersely. "Out with it, now."

She grimaces. "I'm sorry I didn't set your face on fire."

Silence settles around the table. Most of it is due to the fact that Jhe Stevane is no longer in Treaty. I enjoy the reprieve, then watch her walk in again, straightlegged, like a cat pretending it didn't just fall off the back of a chair. She tosses her hair with a flourish before she sits down. She sips her tea. By the tilt of her eyebrows, she's hiding how terribly annoyed she is right now.

"I'm sorry for setting your eyebrows on fire. Maybe we should get to business while we're both in here at the same time."

I laugh, but it's that kind of bitter-because-it's-true laugh. "Before that, I have a question to ask you, Jhe Stevane. You don't have to answer, but I am rather keen on knowing the answer and will probably find it out through my own channels if you don't tell me. ...So if you want a hint on how to do your job, I would say you should answer it. Jhe Stevane..." I gesture to the table, the ceiling, everything around us. "What brings you here, with me? You don't hold any rank that makes you a fit for this. Hell, you know I know just how recently you became Armed, all due respect, because I was there. It was only a few months ago. Who appointed you head of these talks?"

She doesn't look embarrassed or angry. She just bites her lip and thinks her answer over. Then she looks me straight in the eye.

"I did. I tricked them into it. My bosses."

"Alright. Why'd you... trick the Crux Radian leadership into... hold on, are you actually admitting that to me? Girl, you've got to learn to play your cards better."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not here to play cards. I'm tired of the stupid games. Out of everyone, I figured I'd be the best at talking to you, because I know you best out of us."

Huh. "That uh... doesn't say a lot for your side."

She shrugs. "We haven't killed each other yet. And as I've explained to you, I'm on Jhe Ebrelle's side too.  And Jhe o'Radia's.  I don't want to get into a fight, or a war. Jhe Katherine wants to go clean out your predecessor's lab and Jhe Ebrelle wants to examine the pieces she brings back. We want to find out what all that Nul stuff is that makes Jhe Ebrelle all funny-headed, and we'll clean out the icky stuff for you in the process. You end up with a proper monarch at the end of it, we find out what's up with those weird black Arms, none of us end up getting tricked or killed by Jhe Thelea Xaillyndesse or any of that other stuff. Maybe we work together and bring her to justice ...or just k--"  She disappears before she can even say 'kill', then walks back inside, talking as if she'd never left.  "You don't get Jhe Aaren and Jhe Emily killed off for traitoring, he repays you by weeding out the traitors you're actually worried about. Everybody gets what they want, and you can even keep playing your games and stuff with somebody. I'll be out of your hair as soon as you agree to those terms, and if you don't then I'll tell my big sister you turned her in." She pierces me with a look that has me checking to see if my eyebrows are smoldering again, but everything's fine. She's just got too much of her Father in her for my comfort. "I'll find a way to do that no matter what."

Then she disappears from Treaty yet again, which probably means she's serious.

I'll join her outside. I need another cigarette. And if we keep this up in here, I'll just get kicked out again.

* * *

"But if we talk up here, it's not official." She frowns as she stands on the hill, surveying the landscape and wherever her caravan's been hidden. Not really from me, but from agents that'd have me dead as well as her. "...Odd. That didn't ring true." She looks over at me. "Am I allowed to ask you about that, or am I going to get told how to be a proper my-side agent?"

"Nah, I'm kind of tired of being reminded of how flammable parts of me are." I shrug. "I'm calling you a loss. You're never going to be a spy."  Or she has the cleverest cover and most brilliant poker face in the world, but that I won't admit to considering. She can show her cards all she wants. I'll keep mine close to my heart. "Compromise is the name of this hill. It was named as such almost immediately after the creation of Treaty. Not many diplomats can stay in Treaty for long. Our experience thus far is the typical one. Most delegations made a show of trying for Treaty and then delegating in Compromise instead. Agreements hold the same weight. Pacts are sealed just the same. Contracts are official. Plus there's a smoking area. All very nice."

"Ah."

"It's a bit rare, I'll admit, for delegations such as yours to even be held in Treaty anymore. Why'd you have it there?"

She laughs. "Jhe 'brelle said I'd be safe in there. Of course, I have no idea how he thought I'd be able to stay in there long enough to convince you of anything. But it's on the way to Lyiannethe, and I'm not leaving the carriage when we get up there. Everyone's in agreement on that. I'll go batty again and kill some poor jerk."

"Ah." I'd probably be the jerk. "How cautious of you."

"Thanks."

Awkward silence.

Furrowing my freshly-grown brows, I gesture with my cigarette at her. "So... are you... just waiting for me to agree to everything that you've put on the table?" I blink. "You are. Simply amazing."

She shrugs. "I can tell them you argued me down on something and were a really hard sell."

I look at her dubiously. "I get a concession?"

"I dunno. Do you have a problem with the terms?"

I mull that. Moving past all the games... when I stop and consider it? "Well, no. But I've got to turn you down on something. Can't I kill someone you don't like?"

She sighs-- a long, heavy sigh. "That would be nice, but it's not in my job description. Put in a request for some intelligence and I'll see what I can do?"

I snort. "Jhe Stevane, I could likely just ask you and you'd tell me without a second thought."

"But that's not making a show of it! And you want to show that you're a hard bargain. I kind of want you to, too. Jhe 'brelle would be really happy with us both, which I guess is kind of weird."

Laughter rolls down the hill. This woman. Girl. Sister-in-law. "I want the numbers on all the Armed. Missing in action, dead, dead-but-coming-back-real-soon. I concede no counting in Jhe Wysthaven's division. That would just be no fun."

"Yeah, I don't know all that." She shrugs, then starts to write it down on a bit of parchment she's pulled from somewhere. "And I don't think you'll get it, really. They'll probably give you something, though. Jhe Katherine's right there with the caravan, so she can vouch right away. I'll be right back."

And then she's gone down the hill, and I'm alone.

* * *

I blink at the paper in my hands. "This... looks like exactly the information I asked for." I peer closely at the numbers. "Wait."

"It's not accurate per se. You asked for Armed. There's Poet-Armed, too.  They're... not listed. Jhe Katherine decided to take the request literally."

I scowl. It explains why the numbers are so low. I'm not sure if this is terribly useful to me until I do more research into Poets.

"The missing count includes Poet-Armed, though.  It's perfectly accurate."

I look up at her, dubious as ever. She shrugs.

"Jhe Katherine seems to think that you'd be helpful in confirming their whereabouts. If that turns out to be so... well, she's not averse to the idea of a bit more collaboration between our sides. Numbers imply trust. I suppose we're all working towards that, right? So... sooner or later, depending on your good behaviour." She beams at me. "Let's sign an official piece of paper and get out of each other's faces!"

I have never heard a better suggestion in my life. We even make it inside Treaty to do the signing. Jhe Diyanilithia witnesses, which I suppose is the icing on the cake. It gives her a self-satisfied smirk that boots me from Treaty early, but isn't that a grace in disguise? It means I'm not turning my back on Jhe Stevane, and I don't have to say goodbye. Because I'll tell you one thing: I'm not a pushover.

There's just something about her that makes her as scary as her twin sister, and I'm smart.

* * *
Emily
* * *

So, the funny thing about having a mind-linked friend is that they can tell when you're lying to them, or when you're just avoiding an issue. But the funny thing about boys is that even if they notice that you're avoiding an issue, they don't seem to outwardly care about it. Well, some boys don't, anyway.

Especially boys named Aaren. Boys named Aaren, or at least the one boy named Aaren that I can vouch for, are currently ignoring these issues:

1. No one talked to us after the meeting at Treaty, even though we were expecting instructions.

2. The carriage Aaren and I are in has veered off of its planned course.

3. The Kommissar is sitting in our carriage.

That last bit is particularly difficult because I never saw him actually enter the carriage when we were stopped. Sometime shortly after our departure I glanced out the window at the scenery, then glanced back into the carriage. There he was, sitting next to Aaren, across from me. He nodded to me and gave me a pleasant "Hello." It's then that I noticed that we weren't following the other carriages. And well, now here we are in this strange situation, and no one's said another word to each other yet. The Kommissar just sits there with his hands resting on his knees, as cheerful as one would expect for the pleasant weather around Treaty. Aaren hasn't moved an inch. I'm not sure he's even breathed. To his credit, if he looks like statuary right now, at least he looks like polite statuary.

I can't blame him for freezing up on the outside - his mind froze up too.  It's either that or think about things he really doesn't want to think about.  But that's why I'm here with him - to support him when he runs up against a wall.  Aaren associates Calyx Gorey with lots of old memories of his father, and the office of the Kommissar makes him remember what happened to Schiphael.  Which means that his task of pretending to be his father is going to be really interesting, but I think Aaren will make it through just fine.  I'll be here for him.

And now it's time to do my job. "Good afternoon, Jhe Kommissar.  To what do we owe this pleasure?"

He brings his hand to his chin, obviously pleased to be greeted so pleasantly.  "Nothing much, really.  Just whisking the two of you away while that sort of cover story still seems credible."  He shrugs.  "To be honest, I'm not even kidnapping Agent Voitre.  He doesn't exist on the record.  Do you?"  The Kommissar pats Aaren's leg.

I... do what I can to ensure that Aaren's mind stays frozen up.  He's being provoked.  I sort of understand the Kommissar's compulsion to do that - maybe he's testing my friend to ensure that this isn't some sort of trap.  And, well... he's the Kommissar, and he's going to be cruel, and I've already been told that this is going to be a very difficult mission for us both, something completely different than what I'm used to.  Still, it's best Aaren stay numb right now.

Aaren shakes his head, no emotions seeping through the gesture.  There's no emotion within him, either.  He's very good at that.  It was part of his job, once.  And it's how he dealt with his father for many years.

"So you're just kidnapping me?"  I tilt my head, curious.  "I had no idea I was such a valuable property."

The Kommissar shrugs, an odd grin spreading across his face.  He's amused, and perhaps a little confused.  "According to the man Agent Voitre is about to pose as, you're a most valuable asset, Jhe Muiredach.  The former Kommissar went through an extreme amount of trouble to obtain a Poet for himself."  He laughs, the sound rich and sincere.  Whatever he's about to say, it entertains him greatly.  "And he certainly got a memorable return on his efforts, wouldn't you say?"

Aaren actually smiles at that.

I hook an eyebrow upward.  "So you're continuing his grand tradition of kidnapping Poets, then?  I thank you for going about it in such a polite manner."

"Oh no, not at all."  He waves a hand at me.  "I don't see the value of kidnapping Poets.  More trouble than it's worth, and I'm not sure what the gain is in the first place.  Xen can keep his little perversions under his legacy - I'll invent new ones.  No, no - Agent Voitre is kidnapping you.  Otherwise your presence around him won't make sense.  You'll be the old Kommissar's captive Poet.  That lends an air of authenticity to all of this, I think.  You two can handle the details.  I'm not your boss, after all."  He shrugs.  "I just sort of own you for the time being, until we've all got our messes sorted out.  So do you think you can handle the mission?"

I blink.

Aaren catches my eye.  Are you okay with this?

It sounds like fun, actually!  Like the plays we put on in the Poet Hall.  I think it's a wonderful idea.

He gives me a mental nod in return, the gesture a bit ponderous, but not hesitant.  He's got confidence that this'll work out.  He's treating it like just another mission.  And the prospect of a new mission certainly has him excited.  His rigid posture has even loosened up a bit.

I give our approval, then.  "Yes."

"That's wonderful, because I can't think of any other way that won't get you killed, and it's currently my job to keep you both alive.  The King commands it, after all."  He turns to Aaren.  "So then, Agent Voitre.  Perhaps you'd like to gift me with a word or two?  I quite liked you when you were working for your father.  Or double-crossing your father, I can't quite keep them straight.  In any case, I am not the Kommissar you previously worked for.  I would very much prefer that we put our differences behind us, then, and start this endeavor with a clean slate, yes?"  He holds his hand out to Aaren.

I feel Aaren deliberate what to do, and I must admit that when he shakes the Kommissar's hand in response, it's partially due to my urging.  "I do prefer the past buried."

"Splendid.  It is good to know that when you pretend to attempt to assassinate me in the future, it'll be nothing personal."  He leans forward, gesturing as if to shake my hand as well.

I offer it to him.

He takes my fingers in his, turns my hand just-so, and kisses the back.  "It's been such a joy to meet you, Jhe Muiredach.  If anything gets personal between you and I, I'm sure I'll not regret it."

And then he's gone just as the blush rushes to my cheeks.

"Wow.  I was really starting to like him, right until he made me want to stab him in the kidney."  Aaren nods approvingly.  "He does make an excellent Kommissar."

* * *
'Sy
* * *

For now, one of my sons isn't trying to kill the other. For now. With that factor finally in place, it doesn't take us long at all to reach Robinstead. In fact, we'd have arrived even earlier if Jhe Blackirons hadn't insisted on stopping to:

"Make m'self presentable for my Gran, or she'll box my ears, I just know it!"

But I suppose it's an acceptable reason for delay. Jhe Blackirons hasn't seen his grandmother in years. I can't blame him for wanting to prepare himself. I haven't seen his grandmother in so many more years than that, after all, and I have no idea how to prepare myself for it.

Children. You raise the darlings, they're cute for a few years, and then as soon as a distraction pops up they disappear. When they turn up again they're all grown up and probably pointing a gun at you. But maybe that's just my experience.

"Come on, her place is down here. All the pie you could ever want and... err, other things."

I follow the directions of our local expert, my eyes on our surroundings at all times. It's a quaint enough town, certainly small and not in any way outwardly special. Still, I find it strange I've never been out here. Robinstead is quite a ways into the desert, sure, but I've roamed to many a place in my time and under my jurisdiction as Judge. Why not this place?

I find myself subconsciously glancing into the shadows and the alleys. Some part of me is definitely on edge, waiting to spy an Eater creeping through the heart of this town. Have they ever gotten this far? Do they dare? Would they?

Gerude makes an amusing contrast against my inner alertness. He's less on edge now than I thought possible. Maybe he's gotten over how Lyric slipped away. He dropped the issue of Erynn letting him escape already. I keep an eye on him, though. He's about to meet another runaway family member, whether he knows it or not. And for all that he thought Lyric was a traitor...

Well, I just don't know. I just don't know what she's guilty of, and maybe that's why I put off coming to see her for as long as I did. There's part of me that never wants to know. But that part rarely ever gets its way. It's an unfortunate side effect of my being the Judge.

Jhe Blackirons collects himself, opting to walk into his grandmother's whorehouse cool and collected. Gerude stays at his side, silent and composed. I follow the two of them and pray that the building doesn't fall down around our ears by the time this is all over.  When the girls inside recognize Erynn, it's time for that fateful moment.  They call "Ma'am Lettie" to come and see her grandson.

My heart's in my throat, as much as I'm making sure I appear otherwise.  There's the Law, my duty, the mysteries behind my eldest daughter's disappearance... and then there's being a father who, until a few months ago, had given up all hope of finding my child.  Erynn embraces his grandmother.

It's strange.  It's strange seeing the woman who was a girl when last you saw her, your girl, your girl that you knew since she was a baby.  It's strange seeing that woman, yes.  Especially when she looks so much older than me.  Ancient.  I never think about seeing my children that old.  Most of them go Armed or Poet and more or less stop aging in their early twenties.  Even beyond that, I'm an Archo, and Letitcia's mother is the Void.  When she aged past childhood, it should have been very slowly.  Certainly that was the case before she went missing.  But Letitcia's hair has gone gray and white, her figure lumpy, her arms wrinkled and her fingers frail.  She's still herself, of course.  Just old.  But... how?

She looks up at me over Erynn's shoulder, her expression of joy freezing into shock as recognition dawns.  Then, well, the years melt off.

Of course.  She was one of our spies, after all.  Several of my children were talented at disguise and glamours, and Letitcia was no exception.  She was brilliant.  And she still is, apparently, because she's fooled this whole town into thinking she's this ancient matron when in fact she's only physically in her thirties.  Still a little plump, but no wrinkles, her red hair vibrant.  She's a beautiful woman, but when I look at her I can only think of when she was three, and breaking all the china.

"Daddy?"

I can't keep the grin off of my face.  For the life of me, I feel smug.  I found her.  After hundreds of years, I really found her.  "Letitcia, dear, do us all a favor and never, ever give Lyric any clues as to how you managed to hide from me for nearly four hundred years?"

She laughs.  She sobs.  I can't tell which, and perhaps it's a bit of both.  She runs into my arms and I hug her.  She's there in my arms.  She's real.  My lost daughter.

Two of my lost children have been found in almost as many months.

"I... Gerude, I think I need a drink."

"Yeah.  Me too."

* * *

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I suppose I should tell you what I've learned about Letitcia after an hour or two.  I'd like to say that I soused out just what she was doing here all this time, what she's been hiding from, and maybe even what went wrong with her mission in Lyiannethe all those years ago.  I'd like that, but I wouldn't trade it for the hours of being with my daughter again and learning all about her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and, in a way, the entire population of Robinstead.  I wouldn't trade it for the hugs and the laughter and the sheer joy of seeing any of my children grown up as old as she is now.  She's an adult.  Gerald and Gerude haven't gotten there yet, though Gerald's on his way with Rachella and Gerude likes to pretend he's been there all along.  And any children older than that really didn't... survive.  Well, Muriel did, but even if he didn't have magic to keep his features young, he's skilled enough with makeup that I doubt I'll ever live to see a wrinkle on his face.  Titty, though... she's made her own place in life, made a family, made a town.

Is it my fault that I don't want to mention the Law around her at all, that now that I've found her, I want to pretend that all I'm here for is to find my missing daughter, to reunite with family?  Can't everything else just... wait, for once?

Before the illusion can melt away, my son and her grandson spill onto the steps of Titty's brothel...

What, it's a perfectly innocent nickname.  I gave it to her.  She was a baby.  Youth these days and their filthy imaginations.

As I said, Gerude and Erynn took the time allotted them and got plastered.  Not something I'm particularly proud of, but dragging them like rugs off the stoop and upstairs somewhere to sleep it off is enough distraction for the evening.  The boys hibernate while Titty and I laugh over parenting stories traded over a lovely dinner and pie cooked and served by the lovely ladies she houses and employs.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

One tends to have nightmares while asleep.  Considering that many of my dreams of late haven't been altogether pleasant, I can presume some authority on the subject.  Having nightmares while one is awake is... well...

It's par for the course of my day, that's what it is.

Having your reflection talk to you is one thing.  It's strange, yes, but not extremely out of the ordinary for a man who talks to future and past versions of himself.  But seeing dark things... remembering bad things... letting one's imagination get away with oneself?  I feel as if I'm a Poet trainee who has only just been told by an instructor that I might have a future writing horror.

Then again, Jhe Erynn does have a tendency to startle easily.  Jhe Edward, as well, had a history of letting his mind wander down dark corridors.  Perhaps I'm experiencing a shift in my favored genre.  Perhaps.  Or perhaps there's just something making me jumpy.  Maybe I miss Katherine.

At the very least, doting on her for a few moments, and what we've done together so far, makes the darker things in my mind easy to ignore.  It's a nice reprieve.

Still... what is wrong with me?  I screamed and fainted when I bumped into Jhe Haari'se from around the corner.  That's not normal for me.  By now I've learned to quietly faint when the girl surprises me.  There's no reason to make a fuss.  Even though it has gotten around to me that Jhe Haari'se finds my reactions to her presence particularly amusing, I pride myself on proper decorum.

It's just... I'm so jumpy today.  Even the shenanigans have me yelping in surprise.

It's as if I sense something coming.  But what?  I've asked my reflection once or twice, but he just stares back at me with my own perplexed expression.  For all I know, the other Alestere can't hear me.  I dread the thought of him not knowing what it is that I could be sensing.

He's gone through so much, advised so many of my selves.  If he doesn't have a clue as to what could be happening, how can I possibly even think I'm anywhere near prepared?

I feel so young.  Worse, I feel vulnerable.

* * *

"Ah, Alestere. So nice to see you again today. The teapot is still well-stocked." Ebrelle smiles, waving me in, the picture of composure and nonchalance.  It's amusing, considering that he has the most reason to be nervous about today. Stevane isn't here and is meeting with the Kommissar, of all people, and both she and Ebrelle's eldest daughter are bound towards Lyiannethe, of all places.

Of course, reports so far indicate that everything is going according to plan, so there's nothing to worry about. The secret to Ebrelle's nonchalance is that he has a direct connection to Stevane, regardless of where she is physically. He'd be the first to know if something went wrong.

In fact, perhaps the reason I'm checking in on him so much is not out of concern, but to get updates directly from him. I realize soon that there won't be much of that to come, though. Stevane's primary subject matter from this point onward will be the inside of her carriage.

"She won't even draw a curtain back from one of the windows, even. Not that I blame her. The view won't be something to write home about."

I grin, as true as I know the pun to be.

"If anything intrudes upon her carriage, we'll know. Katherine's nasty business inside Lyiannethe is something you would be more informed on."

"Indeed I would be, once she stops to make a report." As she's a Poet, I have enough connection to her to know that Katherine's lack of a report so far is simply because she's too excited to think about writing it yet. "I have a few others on the scene with her, though. So far, everything's as normal as it could be, considering the locale."

Ebrelle rubs his hands together, his glee too pronounced to even try to mask. "I'm going to have so much to study when they get back. I can't wait to see what sort of space I'll be working in." He looks up at me. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"

I chuckle. "It's still in Jhe o'Radia's hands for now, but the space will be underneath the Poet Hall. Once he's ready to bring me into the project, I'll have an idea of what sort of timeline we'll have for it."

My brother laughs. "Oh Alestere, it's amusing when you pretend to do things in order." He reaches across the table and pokes me in the arm in jest. "Give me just one hint as to when it'll be. I know you know. I'm rather impressed that you haven't teased me about the details yet."

I place a single finger over my lips and hope that my smile looks genuine enough to be cryptic. I haven't one clue as to what's ahead of us in the future, but I'm certainly not going to admit it now.

"You and your secrets!" He waggles his finger, a tad exasperated but otherwise still cheerful. "Fine! See if I tell you what Stevane's looking at right now, then."

"Either her shenanigan or the inside of her carriage?"

Brother pouts. After that he refuses to talk to me for the rest of the hour.

* * *

I don't have a son per se. Elam was Elete's son, and I'd never claim any different. Still, he's friendlier with me than he was with his own father. The two of them were distant ever since Ivae's death, and Elete... well, I can only say so much about his feelings there. When it came to his family matters, he took most of his thoughts and memories with him to the Void. I've found the private journal entries, but even those conceal more than they reveal. I can make a few deductions based on it all, though. And really, it's rather simple.

Guilty about losing most of his family, Elete neglected his son.

Elam is, more than anything, thankful that I am not Elete. I'd certainly hate to disappoint him by not giving him the due amount of time he deserves. So when a sheaf of papers written by his hand appears on my desk, I scan over it immediately.

Being very meticulous, Elam sorts and catalogues everything he writes. I'd say it was his love of libraries and their inherent order that drives him to do so, but he's said he simply doesn't "have time for idiots asking me questions about something I already wrote down for them, plain as day." Elam is a man of few words, but what words he uses tend to be... effective.

Given all that, it's not surprising that he topped it all with a cover sheet.

"Being a Summary of the Nightmares of Those Poets Who Escaped Lyiannethe, Followed by Accurate Transcripts."

Oh dear. This I cannot put off reading. Especially with the way my own dreams have been getting lately, and the intervention we had to make for Ebrelle. In fact, I'm surprised I haven't commissioned a survey of the Poet population's notable dreams of late. Dreams can be so telling. Why have I not remembered this?

I read over the first Poet's summaries and curse myself for ignoring the things I'm afraid of, a trait so obviously from Elam's father that I feel shame for it. But at least I'm not running from what I fear, like Elesse tended to do. At least there's that.

...Then again, when one feels the hairs raising up on the back of one's neck, isn't running the smart thing to do?

I should have prepared myself for this.  I had all the warnings before me.  I had every reason not to forget his existence.  Wishful thinking, perhaps?  Maybe I just wanted to keep him safe, maybe...

Maybe he's not actually standing in my room right now, right behind me, all but ready to end my life in the next moment.  No, that's something Elete would have told himself.  I am not Elete.  I am not Elessandre.  Whatever happens next, I will always have that.

"I apologize, Captain, I didn't hear you come in."

The pirate behind me growls.  "I don't know what ye did with Ales, nor how ye stole his face, but I can cut off pieces until ye tell me."

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I raise my hands to each side to show that I'm unarmed - much good as it'd do me right now to have a weapon. "May I rise and face my doom?"

"Aye, ye may," the Captain growls. It's so strange to hear that tone from him when it's aimed at me. Elesse only heard such a tone aimed at other people, people who the Captain considered a threat. The Captain, of course, never considered Elesse a threat. Few ever did.

My chair's legs nudge back unevenly through the carpet. I rise slowly after scooting back from the desk, step sideways away from my chair, and turn to face my old friend from a lifetime ago.

A patch covers one of Captain Jules's eyes. The other one looks up at me with a baleful blue glare. Most pirates use eyepatches to keep their night-vision when going below decks, but as the Captain's night-vision is supernaturally perfect, he just retains the patch for the look of it. And, well, it works. He appears much the same as he always did - a pirate from hatted head to brass-buttoned overcoat to booted toes. Oh, and drawn sharpened cutlass, pointed straight at my gut.

Taking in the familiar details, my chest swells with feelings of recognition and camaraderie so much that I feel it would burst. But it would be a shame to hug him and have said chest literally burst when the Captain stabs me for it. I restrain my affection, but can't keep the grin off of my face. After all the fear I've felt today, all the foreboding, I'm so happy to see this man. "How have you been?"

He shakes his head, sword held absolutely steady. "None of yer dilly-dally. Where's my Second Banana? Lead me to him fast and ye death will be just as swift."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that an incentive?"

His eyes narrow. "I can keep a man alive for months. I might try to beat my personal record and make yer death last a year. Or I can throw ye into seas where ye'll never have a proper death. Ye'll just writhe like a fish on a hook, forever."

My blood chills. He really does have fabulous oratory skill. "And if I were to say that I could find your crewman? Might you find it in your heart to spare my life?"

He just glares death at me.

I hold out my hand, palm up. "I'll make a wager that when I find Jhe... Ales for you, you'll decide not to kill me."

The Captain laughs, a vicious bark. "Is that right? Ye're beginning to amuse me, ye face-stealing scoundrel. Fine, but if ye lose, what more do I get besides Ales and yer life?"

"I'll leave you that crown in the case over there." I gesture to the Crown that Jhe o'Radia gave to me, that I'd fight so hard to wear myself. "And if I win, you'll owe me a boon."

Captain Jules spits into his hand, then holds it out. "It's a deal, ye fool." He waits for me, expectant.

I stare forlornly into his soggy palm, then sigh. There are traditions that I'd just as soon died out. After a few moments' wait, it's clear that I'm not going to be able to ignore this one. I make the best, most manly attempt at spitting into my hand that I can muster, then promptly shake Captain Jules's hand.

He clasps it, then looks up at me with obvious confusion on his face. I wish he'd just let my hand go.

"Yes?" I say, hoping to end this rather wet and disgusting moment.

"Eh, nothin'. Just, the last time I saw such a pansy attempt at spitting, Ales was the one that made it." He releases my hand.

I promptly produce a handkerchief to dry my palm with, and try not to think of where Captain Jules's hand or mouth have probably been in the last twenty-four hours. I fail, and shudder. "Well," I say, attempting to keep myself from capsizing under the roiling waves of disgust, "let us find your lost crew member. I have a hunch that we shan't have to go far."

* * *

The Captain looks at me dubiously from one of the armchairs in my office. He accepted the seat readily, confident in his abilities to kill me even while resting his boots, but he wasn't really convinced when it came to the other half of my process. He's willing to wait it out and see, though. As he said, "yer life's forfeit anyway, I can wait a little to collect it."

I just stand before the doors into my study, waiting for my Poets. After having the Captain give his word that he'd not harm them in any way, I invited the two of them to visit me in my quarters as soon as possible. I am convinced that once they appear, Captain Jules will know without any doubt exactly where his missing crew member has been all this time.

A few minutes pass, and then there's a tentative knock on one of the doors. I look over my shoulder, making sure that my guest is reminded of his oath. The Captain nods to me, though looks the tiniest bit impatient. I look forward, then. "Please come in," I say. "And be polite to my guest." No sense in having my Poets threaten Captain Jules when I had him promise not to do the same to them.

The doors open. I have just a moment to note Jhe Dougrasse's inquisitive expression before I take in Jhe Haari'se's brown, lightly furred body, eight legs, so many eyes, huge mandibles. And, of course, her entire shape: that familiar silhouette. Then all I see is the carpet rushing towards my face before everything goes black.

* * *

"Jhe h'Logos?" I can hear the chuckle in Jhe Dougrasse's voice. "Jhe h'Logos, you haven't hurt yourself falling, have you?" He shields my eyes as I sit up. Apparently Jhe Haari'se is to my right, chittering rapidly.

"Oh no," I say, "these robes really are quite functional when it comes to cushioning against sudden fainting spells. I'm dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience. Thank you, Jhe Dougrasse."

There's a chittering in reply to Jhe Haari'se's. I whip my head around, panic riding my nerves. One Arachne-kin I would expect in here, but who is the second? Of course, I forget to brace myself before looking, and I'll probably earn another fainting spell for my curiosity.

Captain Jules chitters at Jhe Haari'se, his mouth making the strangest movements to arrange itself to produce such strange sounds. He and she appear to be having a very animated conversation.

I can make out most of it, though the arachnid tongue is still tough for me to fully grasp. Whenever I attempt to perfect it, I end up out cold on the carpet. But I can at least make out that they are essentially discussing Jhe Haari'se's homeland and how she ended up in this place. When Jhe Haari'se begins to explain my kindness in taking her in, and also my curious and charming frailty around her, my eyes mist over a bit.

The conversation goes on in earnest.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

I try to suppress my anger at my brother. Deep down, I know I'm mad at him for a silly thing, but I suppose that's exactly why I want to be so irate about it. I decide to lean upon Stevane for her support, and perhaps a few words of advice. She's as volatile with people as I can be, sometimes.

And, of course, she's asleep right now. My daughter must be taking a long time in the ex-Kommissar's labs. I can't blame Stevane for dozing off, really. There's nothing to do but wait in her carriage, nothing to watch... dreams would be much more interesting. And in fact, they are intensely interesting, once I peek in to spy on the scene in her head. I chuckle to myself over what her imagination comes up with.

Pirates again. She dreams of them so much!

I feel the tug, as if she's got a handful of my hair and is using it to gently persuade me. I ease myself into a comfortable chair and submit to the pull. There are worse ways to pass the time.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I squint over the sea, sunlight glinting bright off of the waves. The wide brim of my captain's hat can only shield my eyes from the glare above. It's a beautiful day for sailing, not a cloud in the sky. It's a shame that an insolent crew of riffraff and scallywags is attacking my beautiful galleon.

"Mister Brelle," I roar, "let fire the starboard cannons!"

I'm not really sure how Mister Brelle manages to fire all of the cannons at once, but I won't question his methods. It's not a prudent thing to do. There are men still living who questioned my First Mate's methods, of course, but I'm not sure if most people would call it 'living' so much as 'waiting to die'. What's important is that the starboard cannons fire simultaneously with a roar that hearkens to Mister Brelle's draconic heritage.

Over that, one can barely make out his gleeful laughter. I must give credit to Mister Brelle - he didn't seem cut out for the pirate life at first, but now that he's settled into the routine, he's found quite a lot to take joy in.

Shenanigans sail out of the guns, smoke and sparks trailing from their tails, wings angled for the perfect trajectory. My kittens are the deadliest things on these forty-one seas. What they aim for, they hit.

I almost feel sorry for The Kraken.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

The conversation goes on for awhile. I imagine it's been a long time since Jhe Haari'se has had someone to speak with in her native tongue who could talk back to her in the same language. I can feel the joy in her through the connection I have to each Poet. She's going on about what she does here, now. Then Captain Jules asks her about the place she was rescued from.

She goes on for quite awhile about the dangers she faced in Lyiannethe, and the darkness that Nul was perpetuating through her kind, and how many of her sisters were no longer in their proper nesting grounds. She feels safer here than in her own home, where she was stolen from to begin with.

Once Jha Haari'se is through talking, Captain Jules looks over to me, surprise already evident in his expression. Then the surprise jumps to alarm as in the next moment both he and I are surrounded by shenanigans. The strange kittens bite into the fabric of his jacket and nest on his shoulders, claws against his neck in warning. One of them starts to knead, and he winces.

The shenanigans around me make a protective, furry wall that emits occasional growls.

I am having trouble containing my laughter.

The captain looks down at his aggressors, then up at me. "What manner of attack be this?"

I suppress a chuckle. "Someone decided that I needed her help, and sent aid to me. I apologize for the unexpected inconvenience. These creatures are merely concerned for my safety, but I believe that a show of non-aggression would calm their vicious demeanors."

The Captain roars with laughter, dislodging a few kitten claws in the process, and making one or two shenanigans scatter in surprise. The tiny kitten squeaks make the situation truly absurd. "Aye, that has me cornered! Kittens, eh?" He shakes his head. His hat tilts sideways under the weight of the shenanigans that have roosted on top of it.

I shrug. "I am but a King on the chessboard. It seems the Queen has, once again, been more flexible in her moves than one would anticipate."

"A King, eh? So the spider girl doth say. And ye had the nice crown in the case, after all." He chuckles. "So ye were royalty all along, Ales? I bet I could have sold ye fer a nice fortune after all."

Is this a story I should record, my King, or something to intercede in?

Writing shall suffice, I reply to Jhe Dougrasse. Jhe Stevane has intervened more than enough already.

The Poet chuckles in response, and I only hear the faint scratching of a quill from him.

I smile at Captain Jules. "Have I won our bet?"

"Ye won it with the fainting, aye. Ain't never seen no one so afraid of spiders." He looks closely at me, wondering if I'll keel over just from the word. When I don't, he looks faintly disappointed. "Having someone send in flying kittens as backup, though... no one but a pansy like Ales would use a harebrained tactic like that. So now I owe ye a boon." Wariness passes over his face. "Though ye might have to hold off on collecting it til we're on the Kraken. I might have, err, upset a few people in town."

"What did you set on fire?"

"Eh, nothin's burnin yet, just stole a few things that might be missed."

I let out a weary sigh. Some people never change. "If you could be persuaded to return the pilfered items, I can gain you some status in the Empire. Jhe o'Radia seemed to take a liking to you during your last visit here. If you could have an audience with him this evening, I can make the introductions. He'll want to meet my Knight, after all." I rise, shenanigans tumbling in my wake.

"Aye? And who be that?" The Captain's voice is wary.

I make a few strides, then take my rapier from its appointed place in my quarters. "Well, if you would be so kind as to kneel, I'll see about according the honor to you."

* * *

* * *
Katherine
* * *

The gentle bumping motion of the carriage is almost enough to rock me to sleep.  I keep a grip fist-deep in the waking world's hair.  I can't let myself drift off now.  It's dangerous to drop my guard.  At any moment an attacker could--

A knife slides in front of my neck, barely brushing the soft flesh.  "Hello, lovely."

I hear the knife himself echo the sentiment.

I just grin, trying not to show panic in the expression.  "Hello, Lute!  Pleasant evening?"

The knife whispers away, as if it'd never been there.  Lute flops into the seat on the other side of the carriage like a gangly mutt.  He flips a hand up in a halfhearted summation of his ennui.  "Passable.  You got any food in here?"

I nod and feel as if it's a gesture someone else is making. I remind myself that I'm still alive. I can tell for sure because every nerve in my body is tingling. I never get used to Lute's particular method of getting the jump on me, no matter how many times he does it. "There's some meat and bread under your seat, in the cabinet.  Shut the door tight when you're done so the ice doesn't melt."

He smiles, the expression as distant as how I feel. "That's convenient. Wish I could make it into a travel-pack for wilderness missions." He rummages for some food, then checks to see if I want any.

I decline. The carriage rides too rough for my stomach, especially with me so excited already.

Lute shrugs, closes the compartment firmly and lounges back with his food. After enough intense scrutiny, he buckles under the weight of my expectant stare and sighs.

I cross my arms.  "C'mon. Report."

"Yeah." The shadow agent sits up a bit from his slouch, prepares himself to speak, then jams a hunk of bread and meat into his mouth before he can actually say anything. Once he's done chewing through all of that, he decides to start talking... after he swallows his food, thankfully. "I watched 'em. The Kommissar showed up about as soon as you'd expect, and their path diverted. Took awhile for the Kommissar to actually show his face to them, of course – Jhe Muiredach didn't notice him til then, but Aaren was also surprised." He looks troubled from that. "Thankfully there's other shadows guarding the two of them. But he'd better sharpen up soon."

"I'm sure he'll do just fine once he's in his element."

Lute laughs. "Dressing up in his daddy's old duds and marching about like a tyrant doesn't sound like his element." There's a bitterness to his tone that makes me unhappy, but I don't think it's from any malice towards Aaren. I've been a little worried about that, even though Lute's not the type to hold a grudge. What he saw Aaren do would be enough to tip quite a few Armed over the edge. "I guess that's kind of a relief for him though, right? He can get away from what's not in his head."

"Yeah."

"Kuroroi's worried about him. I am too." He slouches back in his seat again. "Thanks for taking me along. I would have understood if you'd told me it was too personal for me, too close."

"I trust you to be stable. You keep your head, Lute. You stay calm in the most volatile of situations. I need you of all people with me when we go in." I smile. "Excited?"

He snorts. "Hell no. But Kuroroi's itching for revenge, and I want Justice done, so that's close enough."

* * *

"The Poets who were trapped here mapped it out pretty well."

Lute looks over the meticulously drawn maps in his hands. "So they did." His brow creases, but otherwise his expression is blank. I'll have to watch it with him. He's getting more distant. He points to a spot on the map. "We're headed here, then?"

"Yes, and after that is where Stevane's map picks up. We'll have to keep an eye on how the space warps around there, but you should have an edge with--"

"Yeah." Lute looks up at the way ahead of us. "And past that, I know where we're going." He melts into a wisp of shadows, then nothing. I can still sense him near (it's a different sense of impending doom than the others I have right now) so I know he didn't just jump ahead. He wouldn't, not with the plans as they are.

His strengths are the most utilized when he's a living part of the shadows, so this is for the best. Still, I'd prefer having him in sight, just to read his face and get the best gauge of his emotions. And well, it'd be nice to walk through this creepy place with someone at my side.

I pick the weirdest times to miss 'Sy.

* * *
Lute
* * *

This place tried to kill Aaren. I'm not sure if it succeeded or not. But I can feel it looking me over now, sniffing me, measuring how much harder it'll be to take me down. That doesn't bother me, really. It's part of my job. Sometimes it's even kind of fun. But Kathe's here too, and the place is sniffing her out just as much. That sets me on edge, and I suppose it causes me to hover a bit, because she nudges me. Usually she can't even detect me enough to know where to poke.

I shuffle over a bit, a finding space slightly away from her where the shadows run together. Pardon me.

I'm a little surprised I hit you. I didn't think I could actually be sensing you. She steps forward, hand running down the door into the laboratory. You're on edge. That's unusual for you. We're not even in there yet.

I don't answer. She's dangerously close to calling me out for cowardice.

Is it that dangerous in there, Lute? I must've underestimated this place. What's waiting for me?

I was wrong. She's not calling me out. She's starting to doubt the whole mission now. We can handle it. I'm just not looking forward to the smell.

Kathe pales, then lifts her hand to her nose. When she does so, I'm reminded of her missing index finger. She already knew we were headed into danger. She took out insurance against it. I have no reason to worry over her. Ugh. It's been months, and there's not enough heat or sun that he'd just be dessicated and dry by now. I hate looking at the juicy corpses. She takes in a deep breath, probably the last she'll get a chance for one until we're done inside there. Let's make this quick. You keep your eyes out for anything that moves. I know what we should be here for.

Time to move. The mission settles over me, a professional suit that gives purpose to my every motion. There's no room for doubt. The only worry is in the back of my mind, quietly stewing: Kuroroi hasn't said a word yet. Neither he nor I are the talkative sort, but it's still troubling. It's possible that my Arms are just as disturbed by this place as I am. I didn't think that was possible.

Your kind would call it a tomb.  His words slide in between my thoughts, parting them with his own razor sharpness.  You worry about the smell, about what lingers.  I am no different.

You open the door, Katherine.  I'll cover you.

She nods curtly, all business, her eyes narrowed into deadly focus.  She passes her hand over the door, examining it for tricks one last time.  Step back.

I oblige her, especially when I see that she's drawing Gedulah.  She pulls the long-bladed sword out of nothingness, then pivots on her heel.  Her entire body turns with the motion, driving the blade cleanly into the door.  She draws it out in a motion just as graceful, then punches the blade in again after turning it ninety degrees.  She repeats the act a few more times, cutting an arc around the door's handle.  Then she nudges the door with her toe.  It slides inward in a smooth, silent motion.

I sweep in before she enters.  Nothing in the entrance.  But let me scan the place first.  She gives no reply, just waits.  I go ahead.

The room almost strikes me blind, it's so dead in here.  I pause inside the shadow of the door, letting my vision settle.  I've been around death before, been ankle-deep in it.  This room is different, though.  Like a tomb, but more... absolute.  Kathe, is this what Nul is like, do you think?

If this were Nul, you probably wouldn't be able to sense yourself anymore.

Creepy.  I force my vision to clarify, using Kuroroi's sight as my own.  It's still dim even for him, but he can at least see.  Well, at the very least, it doesn't smell.  Which is kind of odd, really.  Not that I was looking forward to giving the Kommissar's corpse a good sniff, but I don't like 'kind of odd' in a situation like this.  It hasn't changed much around the entrance.  I'll go farther in and see if anything's waiting for you.

I can still sense where Stevane stepped when she walked in this room.  Where she lingered, where she first began to feel the pull of her Arms.  It leads me through this place, a clear path through the madness that lingers.  There are voices in here.  Shadows that move, that aren't me.

Arms that never fully died by the Kommissar's hand.  Kuroroi seems to hold a narrow opinion of them.  Don't listen to anything they say.  Don't trust them.  He sounds... troubled.  At my prod, his glare focuses on me.  They speak of freedom.  They babble like Schiphael did.  But they're not fully manifest.  They're... ghosts?

Strange, listening to my Arms voice his confusion.

I didn't know we could have ghosts.  After that, silence as he dwells on what surrounds us.

I decide that whatever is lurking in the shadows besides me, it can't hurt Kathe.  Come on in, but let me check out his corpse before you do.

You take all the fun jobs.  She enters the room, Gedulah still drawn and held at ready.  I can sense Gevurah waiting to spring out as well, at the merest hint of any danger.  That blade's often spoiling for a fight.

As she heads in, I move forward.  Stevane's path of fear and fatal intent pauses here, at the rows of cabinets and expansive table workspace in the middle of the room. I've read her report. I know what she went through here, and I know what visions prompted her panic to spike upward at this point. We'll want to inspect this middle area after we take a look at the corpse and the altar. Nothing of substance is moving in here, at least. Not yet.

Katherine grunts, swiping at a shadow that passes too close to her for her liking. Says you.

My pardon. I meant except for you and myself. I rub at the sleeve of my jacket. That's going to need mending.

Sorry. Kathe's cheeks burn.

Nonsense, you struck at a valid threat. I'm kind of proud that she detected me that well. Embarrassed that I let her, but proud nonetheless. She's gotten good at spotting me, and I know that's not just my own sloppiness speaking for itself. But stay here and don't follow me until I say so, please. I walk ahead in Stevane's footsteps, marveling at how methodical they are. By her notes, I can tell where Jhe Gorey's path would have been in relation to hers. I can't sense the living Kommissar's path much in this room, if at all. He's used to hiding his tracks. But the dead Kommissar's path is much clearer – probably because he left a corpse at the end of it.

Watch. Kuroroi's gaze is on the altar we're approaching. Not every threat in this room may be dead.

I try to keep my eyes on the altar, I really do. But I can't, and I trust that Kuroroi will cover me. I can't because all of my attention is focused on the spot on the floor where the Kommissar's body finally dropped under Stevane's assault. "Shit." I forget myself and slip into vocal speech. Can anyone blame me?

"What?" I hear a single step echo behind me, but Katherine catches herself before she goes any further.

I guess Aaren's act is gonna be more convincing than I thought it would.

"WHAT?"

I take a step back from the site of death, then give up on keeping our speech quiet. Anyone who could hear us would have already been able to see what it is that made me slip in the first place. "The Kommissar's body isn't here."

* * *
Lute
* * *

Katherine does a quick sweep of the work tables in the middle of the room and the cabinets beneath them. When I was here last, that entire area contained the Kommissar's Nul-like working materials. Everything is empty and clean. There's no evidence of what he used to perform his experiments, or how he did them. Not in that area, anyway.

Meanwhile, I check the altar. Or rather, Kuroroi checks as I stare down at the spot the Kommissar's body should be occupying. Apparently the altar is empty as well. The hooks and clamps that used to hold dead Arms are empty.

I can hear them whispering from the shadows. Kuroroi is on edge, which I suppose is appropriate for a knife, but still makes me nervous. They have no bodies, no power. All that remains are the... memories.

I frown. The personalities?

He doesn't reply, but he doesn't disagree with me.

"What are we going to do? There's nothing here. Where did it all go? Lute, do you see anything?"

I keep my eyes on the floor. "The altar's empty. There's one thing on the floor. Don't get close to it. Don't touch it."

Her steps are wary as she approaches the area, but she doesn't waste any time. "What's-- oh." I can tell how pale her face must be just from the tone of her voice. "Stevane said it disappeared."

"Stevane hasn't been here for a while." I look down at the Kommissar's weapon, his famed two-pronged military fork. It's as long as Diyn, but more slender, and its black surface doesn't have a metal sheen. It's as if it completely absorbs the light around it. "Anyway, maybe... maybe she hallucinated that. She was under a lot of stress." I try to believe the words coming out of my mouth, but we both know they're hollow, and thus not much comfort. The Kommissar's body missing, his weapon left in its place. How?

Against my advice, Katherine steps next to the thing, then hunkers down by the floor to get a closer look. Her face is drawn back in a grimace of horror, but her eyes are wide with fascination. Then I remember how intrigued Armed tend to be with death. "This thing killed me. It was like having my guts and soul pulled through the wounds in my chest and stomach. Like being turned inside out." She sounds a little too charmed, and she's leaning in too close for my comfort. I swear I sense it leer at her.

I make a decision that is probably bad, but it's worse than letting her near it too much longer. Kathe's curiosity is the worst thing sometimes. And I'm supposed to protect her. It's my job. I lean over and grab the fork before Kathe can touch it.

Kuroroi tenses up. Chills run up my arm as I stand – this thing is so cold that the icy touch of it bites at my palm through my glove. The weapon is teeming with power, and I can feel it sniffing me out. Kuroroi hisses at it from the back of my mind.

Meanwhile, Kathe stands up and looks about us both. "Lute, the shadows are moving."

"That's normal for this place."

"Not like this, it isn't." She glances over me and my new acquisition. "Let's go. That fork is more than enough for us to analyze." She frowns. "It might even be too much."

"Yeah, it's not terribly pleasant to hold. Let me figure out how to stow it in the carriage." Honestly, I just want this thing out of my hands as soon as possible. If I wasn't sure there's no way the Kommissar could have been Armed, I'd think the weapon's trying to talk to me. It's got an eerie awareness about it, at that. And Kathe was right about the shadows – they're writhing around us now, dancing.

"We could just..." Kathe looks around the lab. "No, giving it to Jhe Calyx would be a bad idea."

"He wouldn't want it, from the look of him." I grimace. "Well, not for himself to hold. Besides, we promised to clean the place out for him, and then he takes good care of the people in his custody. Let's do what we're here for."

"Yeah. Stow it in the carriage. At the least, it'll keep the thing out of the wrong people's hands." Kathe has that voice she gets when even she thinks she might have had a bad idea, but she knows she still can't back out of it. For one thing, and I don't want to tell her this, but I'm not sure if I could leave this thing behind in the lab, or with the new Kommissar. I don't think it'd let me do so without a fight.

It grins in the back of my mind. Kuroroi snarls at it.

* * *

There's nowhere to stow it, so I hold it through the entire trip, which mostly consists of Kathe and I staring at the thing in a stunted, awkward silence. I fight the urge to chuck it out the window. The thing would probably try to take a chunk of my hand with it.

It's kind of weird to think of it as 'the weapon' or 'it'. The damn thing's pretty lively for an ordinary weapon. I'm used to calling notable weapons by name, after all.

Malice.

Chills run up my neck. That whisper wasn't Kuroroi, who appears in my empty hand in response. "Kathe? Kathe."

She looks at me, eyes wide. I must sound pretty shaken. Well, I am. "What, Lute?"

"The thing is talking to me." I look out the window. I could still toss it out.

"What do you mean?" She looks down at my hands. "That fork?"

I nod, my mouth dry.

"What did it say?" She looks disturbed, but also a little intrigued.

"Its name, I think." My mouth turns down. "Malice. What a charmer."

"It's certainly descriptive." She reaches forward. "Can I—"

I pull Malice back. "No way. I'll give it to your weirdo dad when he's got something to keep this in."

She bites her lip, but can't fight back a laugh. "I'm not sure which one is the weirdo, but I'm guessing you mean my Aurocan father."

I have to grin at that. "Yeah, that nutcase." I sigh. "Not that I feel too safe giving this to him, but he's your father so he can probably keep an eye on you well enough." I groan, thinking through that logic. "Okay, that's kind of a bad idea too. I guess I'm the newest person working in this crazy project."

She lifts her brows. "Are you your own superior officer now, assigning your own missions to yourself?"

"Do you think Julia's gonna let you keep this project out of her division's hands? Come on. She'd probably flay me if I let this thing out of my sight."

Kathe frowns. "Is it that bad?"

My hand clenches around the thing. "Yeah. It's pretty bad. I'll be relieved when I can put it in whatever encasement your kook of a father designs. It talks to my mind, it's driving Kuroroi nuts, and it's as cold as death." Which is why it's sort of strange that I don't want to let go of it, I guess. Must be my protective nature kicking in.

Must be.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I'm commanding another shenanigan to fire at the Kraken when something cuts off my order. The waves part under my ship in strange patterns. Perhaps a storm is coming? The ship isn't pitching and yawing as it should on the high seas. It's more shaking and jouncing, as if I'm on a carriage ride...

As I blink my eyes in confusion, I blink myself awake from the dream. I shake my head, rubbing my palm against my forehead. Strange. I was in pretty deep for a casual nap. I start to wonder if it was a little more than a dream, but then I notice the envelope on the seat next to me. I pick it up and examine the handwriting. It looks like Jhe Katherine's. It's addressed to me. I pull the flap open.

'Hey sleepyhead, we sent you forward to make sure everything's set up. I cut an hour off of your travel time. Have a nice nap!'

Underneath Katherine's penmanship is a loopier, more sweeping hand that curls gracefully at the tips of the letters, with lots of artful flourishes that make me jealous. My handwriting's a lot more like Unkie's. I keep accidentally misspelling things or accenting letters in the same ways, too, always wishing that I'd inherited Daddy's precise, no-nonsense penmanship instead. But Jhe h'Logos's writing, whether it's from his past self or his current one, is always perfect. On the letter in my hand, it curls under Katherine's in a postscript longer than the original letter.

'I apologize for the abruptness, Jhe Stevane, but later it turned out that you needed to be a little earlier than Jhe Cruxradia allowed for, so I just sped up your journey even moreso. A couple more hours trimmed off of the trip will give you the necessary preparatory time. Report to your Uncle. He will lead you where you need to go. And remember, Jhe Stevane, that our guests deserve the benefits of your supplementary etiquette lessons most of all.'

I blink. The ink from the postscript tingles under my thumb. It feels as if it's not quite there yet. When did Jhe h'Leste write this? Or perhaps the question is, when does he? It's a little strange to get a future message directly from him. Jhe h'Lete tended to confer with his differently-timed selves and then advise from the present. I suppose Jhe h'Leste is more direct.

The carriage slows, then jars to a stop. A peek outside the window confirms that I'm in Beleth, right near the Palace. Jhe h'Leste wasn't kidding about shaving a few hours off of the trip. I fold the letter up, slide it back into its envelope, step out of the carriage, and head for the Palace. Apparently Unkie will know what to do.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

Jhe 'brelle picks up on my wakefulness as I make my way toward Unkie's offices. He seems rather distracted and cross. I wonder if he napped too long?

I've been awake for some time, my dear. Your kitten dream was very cute. Are you on your way?

Yes, I reply. I am in fact almost at Unkie's door. Jhe 'brelle gives no further reply – he's focused on something else very intently. Oddly, I can't locate him. Possibly he's already in his laboratory, though I'd expect him to be happy about that. But possibly I arrived so early to help him out. And apparently Unkie will know where the new lab is. And I guess... I guess this should all work out, then?

Things are seeming a little disjointed in my head. The future feels... odd. Maybe because I've been nudged about in time, and so everything's in flux. Maybe. I feel uneasy about something, but there are so many things that could mean. I knock on Unkie's office door. I'll figure out what to do as I go along. We can't all be like Jhe h'Leste, telling ourselves what to do after we've seen how it all went. Lucky guy.

The knock is a bit blunted by the wards, but it's not the sound that matters – the wards themselves will alert whoever is inside to my presence.

Then the door opens and Jhe h'Leste waves me in and I see that Jhe 'brelle is in the office too and the reason why he seemed so agitated is because he's been shouting at Unkie. Unkie is shouting back, so it's not like I can fuss at him for it, either. I try to pick up on what it is they're actually going off on each other about (at such a volume that I'm impressed by how thick Unkie's wards are, because it was perfectly quiet on the other side of his door). Before I have a chance, Jhe h'Leste guides me to a farther corner of the room, out of the arguing parties' notice. He leans down conspiratorily, a hand on my shoulder.

"Jhe Stevane, what are you doing here four hours early?" His tone exhibits a mild amount of surprise and a willingness to have faith in the existence of a logical explanation. It's such a calm manner of speech that it makes Unkie and Jhe 'brelle's shouting even more absurd in contrast.

Hm. I didn't expect Jhe h'Leste to be surprised! "You sent a letter to me. Or rather, you amended Jhe Kathe's." I hand him the envelope. "That's all I really know. It should make sense to you, I hope. I uh... thought you would tell yourself?"

He takes the letter, brows raised in an expression of intrigue. He reads over the contents. "Ah. So I see." My King folds the letter up and places it back in its envelope. Then he smiles down at me, the expression genuine, though a hint of confusion shows through. "My gratitude, Jhe Stevane. You have presented me with the evidence of my very first time paradox." He seems so proud, yet so sheepish.

I raise an eyebrow. "You didn't tell yourself about it? Then how can you be so sure it's the first?"

"Hah!" He rubs his forehead. "The future self who wrote this to you was well-advised, though he seems to... have a sense of humor in not informing me as well. I suppose it's not necessary, is it? You're where you need to be." He looks toward my uncle and my... ward. "I suppose you'll be the one to convince them to use their inside voices, then, if your uncle is to help you with anything as my letter indicates." His tone is very apologetic. With the way those two are going on...

"You couldn't stop them?"

He laughs. "Them, listen to me? That would require them to hear me."

I shake my head. "This is silly. What are they even going on about? What's the big deal? I can't tell." From the snatches of intelligible sentences that I can make out every now and then, they've regressed into petty name-calling.

"In all honesty? Your own guess is as good as mine. I think they're both just pent up and want someone to shout at."

I frown. Then I peek over Jhe h'Leste's shoulder, at a man sitting on the couch. "Wait. How'd he get in here?"

The pirate captain that I met a few months ago raises his eyebrows at me as he slumps back on the couch, appearing utterly bored with everything.

"Ah! I don't think I've ever had a chance to properly introduce you two. My apologies." Jhe h'Leste guides me to a chair in the Captain's vicinity.

"That's alright," I say, "We've met."

"Aye," the Captain growls. Then he sees Jhe h'Leste's expression – a multitude of crushed expectations combined with a pout. I've never seen anything quite like it, but apparently the Captain has a great many times. "Aw, go on, yeh mangy ponce, and play Ship's Diplomat again if ye want to so badly."

Jhe h'Leste bows and opens his mouth to start with the usual formalities, but anything he might have been about to say is drowned out by Jhe 'brelle.

"You are a liar and a hypocrite!"

Followed by an equally-deafening Unkie.

"Coming from a man lacking the wits to tell the truth from falsehood!"

"A brainless man could tell that every word you speak is a lie!"

"Lucky that you fit the bill, then! Here's a lie: Jhe Ebrelle is capable of the tiniest bit of reasonable discourse! But you can tell that's a lie, right? Because obviously you've got no brain in your skull! Nul must have cleaned that thing right out!"

I wince. Jhe h'Leste physically ducks away from the noise. The Captain appears even more bored with his surroundings, possibly dangerously so.

Something's got to stop those two from going on. They're just arguing for the sake of it at this point. I can't get any tread in Jhe 'brelle's mind – he's too fixated on his anger at Unkie. It's a gleeful fixation, a selfish wrath, a childish joy in anger. He can be such a brat when he's allowed to let himself go. And then... well, there's Unkie. He's not exactly the picture of restraint. And they both seem to be really fixated on this argument. I don't know what could possibly distract them.

Meanwhile, the Captain coughs a wad of something back in his throat, tilts his head back, then spits it out so hard that it sticks to the ceiling. Jhe h'Leste and I stare up at the glob in horrified fascination. I think something might be alive in it.

I reach a hand down to the Captain, then raise my eyebrows. I'd make a vocal request, but it wouldn't be heard over the ruckus. The Captain gets the idea, though. He takes my hand and rises. I guide the Captain from the couch. My King hovers like a mother duck, but when I approach Unkie and Jhe 'brelle, he stays back.

Then, with the most propriety I can manage, I push the Captain between the two arguing monarchs.

The transition is amazing to watch, and quite immediate. Unkie, his finger raised to point at Jhe 'brelle's chest, is now pointing at Captain Jules's hat. Unkie's mouth is open, but no sound comes out as his eyes scan over the man in front of him.

Jhe 'brelle goes on for ten more seconds before he realizes that he's the only one talking. In his moment of distraction, I take his hand and tug him back over to the couch. The great thing about Jhe 'brelle is that when he's distracted, and someone is acting like a servant, he lets them go on and seat him and serve him tea without pausing to think about the fact that that's really not what he wanted. Possibly it's that easy a trick to pull because so few of his Palace servants ever had a mind to manipulate him like that, and so he's never thought to defend against it. But it takes about thirty seconds to have him seated, relaxed, and waiting expectantly for the tea to brew.

"Wait. I'm sorry. You're not the asshole I was talking to. My apologies." Unkie crosses his arms, frowning down at Captain Jules. "You're the asshole who pillaged my coffee shipments."

The Captain grins. "Commandeered."

Jhe 'brelle looks up. "Wait, I'm not done with him--"

I shove a cup of tea into his hands. "I met your sister in Treaty! She sends her regards to you and Jhe h'Leste."

That's enough to distract him from Unkie, who Jhe h'Leste is currently covering. "Jhe o'Radia, I must apologize for not introducing the two of you earlier. You've met, yes, but I don't think the two of you have been officially introduced."

Unkie raises an eyebrow. "Not officially. Jhe h'Logos, what is the meaning of this interruption?"

Jhe h'Leste bows holding his hand palm-upwards towards the Captain. "I would like to introduce to you Sir Zheinor Furiste d'Dragani du Barista von Karkavosta the Seventh, Unspeakable Terror of the Forty-One Seas, Captain of the Kraken, Sir Jules for short." He seems to take such relish in that introduction, as if he hasn't done it for a very long time. I guess he got to do it a lot as 'Ales'. It's weird, thinking about how Jhe h'Leste used to be two different people.

"Aye, Sir Jules will do." He holds his hand out to Unkie.

Unkie takes his hand gingerly and shakes it for as briefly as possible. "Ah, yes. Just Jhe o'Radia, please. If we go through my whole title we'll be here all day."

"Aye, I'm familiar with that sort of situation. Ales never does say the whole thing fer me. Guess that fits a modest chap such as myself."

Jhe h'Leste coughs behind his hand to mask his actual reaction to that. "Jhe o'Radia, as it turns out, Jhe Jules is now a royal knight of my court."

"You have a court?"

"Yes. He's the sum of it. But isn't this all the court you'd ever need?"

Jhe Jules picks at something in his teeth with his fingernail.

"I can't imagine needing anything more, no." Unkie frowns. "Jhe h'Logos, is there a reason behind this meeting?"

Jhe 'brelle glares over at Unkie.  "Look at him!  He's completely forgotten about me!  We were talking and then--"

"Your sister wrote you a letter."  I shove the missive into his hand as daintily as possible.

He peers down at the envelope.  "My goodness, Diyanalithia wrote to me?  Whatever could be the matter... I haven't seen her in ages, you know.  How did she look?  She looked well, I hope?"  He opens the envelope, peering at the contents.  "She's dear to me, so dear.  And so good at getting into trouble, Stevane.  You wouldn't imagine.  Well, she used to be, at least.  She's in a safe place now."  He frowns as he scans over the letter, then looks up at Unkie again instead of reading it.

"She really did want you to have that letter.  She was delighted to know that I could deliver it directly to you in so short of a time."

"Oh?  Really.  Hm.  Well then."  He looks back down at the letter and, thank the skies and seas, finally begins to read it.  His sister seemed to be as long-winded in letters as Jhe h'Leste, so that should keep him distracted for a while.

And with him occupied, I can focus on what in the world Unkie, the Captain and Jhe h'Leste would ever need to meet together about.

"Oh, nothing but good news, my Emperor. Captain Jules is in need of a business arrangement with you. And you him, I imagine."

"I what?" The Captain grins up at Jhe h'Leste. "I get to sell his own cargo back to 'im?"

"Ah, no. You're supposed to give that back, Captain."

"Hmph. I need compensation for m'crew, Ales! They worked real hard, stealin' all that stuff."

Jhe h'Leste puts a hand up before Unkie's face can progress from mildly amused to vaguely murderous. "That isn't really the issue at hand, Captain." Before the Captain can think of anything offensive to divert the conversation to again, my King goes on to address Unkie again. "The Captain is offering his crew's services to you as privateers."

"I am?"

"While they will require a high amount of pay--"

"Aye, I am!"

"--you will find they are invaluable at defending vessels that need additional protection from incursion."

Unkie nods affably. "That seems a logical conclusion, doesn't it? They'll just stop sacking the cargo because I'm paying them not to."

"Aye, that be why Ales is Ship's Diplomat. He works out all the extortion--"

"Now Captain, please. I'm a modest negotiator and I can't have you flattering me so much." Jhe h'Leste grins at Unkie, attempting to maneuver past that whole uncomfortable 'extortion' topic. "As shifty as it may sound, the Kraken has never lost a piece of cargo that her crew was paid to protect. She has sailed waters more mysterious and dangerous than the black ones off of the coast of Nul. I believe Captain Jules's aid will be invaluable for whatever is to come."

"Ah. Well, that does make sense." Unkie puts his hand to his chin, calculating. "So, how much cargo do they steal while on guard?"

Jhe h'Leste crosses his arms, chest out. "Not a single--"

"Hardly any." Captain Jules attempts to look presentable as he beams with pride regarding that statement. "You won't even miss it. Guaranteed!"

"None." Jhe h'Leste clears his throat. "Jhe o'Radia, you have an army of accountants, do you not? One or two that are exceptionally skilled at inventory? Who err... wouldn't mind being stationed on board a ship at all times?"

Unkie scrutinizes both men, his eyes narrowed. Oddly enough, he gives Jhe h'Leste more scrutiny than the pirate. "This whole proposal seems to be something with real reasoning behind it. As if someone might have an educated hunch he is operating on, yes?"

Jhe h'Leste attempts to look innocent, but does it so badly that I wonder if he purposefully developed such a guilty expression after some practice with my Daddy. "It's just a prudent business decision."

"Make sure my coffee ends up where it should be by the end of the day. I can find a seaworthy accountant."

Jhe h'Leste looks surprised that his negotiations worked.  The Captain just spits in his hand and holds it out.  "Aye, a deal!  Let us swear!"

Unkie stares at the pirate's palm for a moment.  "...I'll go find a piece of paper for you to sign.  I'd hate to force you to waste that on me."

* * *

* * *
Stevane
* * *

Jhe 'brelle mutters aloud as he reads Jhe Diyanalithia's letter. His voice is pretty low, but I still manage to hear about how his sister "always softens a barb just enough that you're ashamed to complain about it," and that she "needn't say all those things about the past as if I don't remember them," and that furthermore she "isn't the boss of me or anyone else," and also that she "never even thanked me for looking after her all these years," and in conclusion that "I must remember to write back to her soon, she's probably just lonely."

I frown and look up at him. "What did she write to you?"

"Oh, the usual. Thank you for delivering it, Stevane." He sets his teacup down with its saucer, then rises to his feet. "Alright, that's enough. I'm more important than a pirate." He approaches Unkie, making bold, dramatic strides.

Or he would have, if I hadn't just yanked his arm before he could get farther than half a step. He looks down at me, brows drawn together in consternation. I finally manage to get a good piece of his mind in that moment – literally; it's our connection. What in the forests are you on about, girl?

I narrow my eyes at him and just imagine how embarrassed he'd look trying to confront Unkie again while I hang off of his arm like an overaffectionate shenanigan. The mental image is vivid enough that Jhe 'brelle should easily pick up on it. A moment later, his face turns plaintive.

Why are you taking his side?

I pat his arm. I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm just stopping it before it starts again. Speaking of which, what started it in the first place?

His lips flatten as he swallows. Nothing worth repeating. He should apologize, though. He accused me of things I've actually never done.

I raise my eyebrow at the inclusion of 'actually' in that sentence. You can't get Unkie to apologize by screaming at him. As it is, it's difficult for the politest persons to get a genuine apology from him. Is it worth a fight? You called him a liar, after all.

Jhe 'brelle makes that face he makes right before he ends up arguing over trivialities for five hours.

Let's just get our laboratory, Jhe 'brelle.

He frowns. I was trying to, but then he started accusing me of some distressing things that I've never done.

I sigh. "Unkie? Are you done with your new pirate? I have a favor to ask." Jhe h'Leste may make a face at that lack of protocol, but I'm more than willing to take advantage of being the Emperor's niece. Besides, Unkie appreciates a more casual approach to things.

Unkie looks Captain Jules over.

Captain Jules grins back at him in what might be an attempt to look trustworthy, but instead it looks like he's leering. Actually, he might just be leering. Then he salutes in a motion that's surprisingly crisp and exact, considering his disrespectful demeanor.

Unkie nods to him. "We've signed the papers, you have your commission, and you'll find a knowledgeable bosun waiting at your ship when you get back to it. She'll conduct the unloading and proper storage of my coffee."

"Aye, and she'll be the one paying us for it?"

Jhe h'Leste elbows the Captain discreetly in the side.

"Arr, seems a thing just now came out of my mouth that we all, as gentleman, rightly ought to ignore. We're agreed then, me bucko!" The Captain grins wide.

Unkie nods and makes a dismissive gesture. "Right. You can go make the seas safe now."

The Captain catches Jhe h'Leste at the elbow. "You heard the fop, Ales. Time to weigh anchor!"

"Of course, Captain. You go ahead and prepare the crew, and I'll join you after I settle the more boring payment terms with Jhe o'Radia."

After the Captain leaves, Jhe h'Leste wilts a bit, casting an apologetic glance up at Unkie. "I have no intention of leaving, of course. He's a dear friend, but I'm needed here now, not out there on the open sea." There's a wistful twinge to his tone during that last part.

Unkie crosses his arms, contemplating the situation. "I see. He's a difficult person to lose, once he knows you." He shrugs. "And useful enough that I don't quite want you to lose him anyway. Tell me, why did you knight him?"

"I owe him my life many times over. Frankly, he deserves the honor."

"Then it's for good reason that he's a hard man to lose." Unkie puts his hand to his chin. "If they patrol the nearby seas, it's not as if he can't come back and visit you when they make port."

Jhe hLeste shakes his head. "He wants me on deck. I used to hold a valuable position on his crew, and I doubt he can replace me with just anyone. I was the ship's Poet, though none of us really knew what a Poet was back then." He frowns. "I wonder if I have any Poets with sea experience? And iron wits, of course. It's a struggle to keep one's sanity when one is crew for the Kraken."

Unkie keeps a deadpan expression. "Are you so sure you managed to keep it?"

A cross look ghosts across my King's face, but before he can reply, there's a knock at the door.

A suspicious look crosses Unkie's face, but then he just looks relieved, and slightly annoyed. "He's back already."

"I'm sorry." Jhe h'Leste looks to the side, unable to meet Unkie's eyes. "I'll get the door and then I suppose we'll have to figure out something while he's in here." He walks to the door of the suite and turns the knob.

The Captain rushes back in. "Arr, Ales, ye think ye can just hang back and I'll leave without you, eh?"

Jhe h'Leste's face is pure surprise. I hear Unkie stifle a laugh.

"Well, it ain't going ta work. For one, I always know where you are. For two, I never forget my crew, only leave them behind on purpose for awhile when it's more convenient. And for three..." he loses a bit of his bravado. "There's another ship in the port, and it's in me way."

"Another ship? We're not expecting any..." Unkie frowns, concentrating, his eyes looking at something far beyond the walls of his office. "Oh no. They're much too early."

He looks over to Jhe 'brelle for the first time since I took him aside. My ward jerks in surprise. By this point, he'd gotten used to being ignored. "What?"

Unkie's face turns grim. "It's a Chetharian vessel."

"Aye, t'were that same one what followed us into port last time the Kraken came to these shores." The Captain sounds weary.

Unkie frowns, contemplating that coincidence for a few moments. "Well. There's really only one thing to do." He looks up at Jhe h'Leste. "Negotiate."

"Err... Ales, I'll kidnap yeh later. Ain't got no time fer negotiations right now. Not with a man I've beaten over the head afore, at any length. Cheers." And then he leaves – ostensibly through the door, but I almost wonder if he just disappeared, he managed to take off so fast.

Unkie and Jhe h'Leste both look relieved for a moment, and then both regain their serious demeanors and composure. I almost think Jhe 'brelle and I have been forgotten. And, to be honest, I almost hope we have been, so I can see what goes on in negotiations. But Unkie looks over at me and Jhe 'brelle again. "You two can go on now." He tosses a key to me. "Scry for the location and you should find the place. Start building, I suppose." He frowns. "Wait, were you supposed to be here this early?"

I shrug. "According to Jhe h'Leste, this is where I should be and when I should be. We need to finish the laboratory before Jhe Katherine returns with what she's found."

He makes a dismissive gesture, already distracted by the approaching talks. Jhe 'brelle, not one to be easily waved away, straightens his posture. "Is it so easy, now that it's convenient? When you already accused me of the things you accused me of?"

Unkie looks taken aback. "Are you still on about that? Look, I just meant you need to watch out--"

"As if I need restraining?" Jhe 'brelle's voice is winding back up to its previous levels of anger.

I squeeze his hand. Easy, now.

His mental voice answers me. You didn't hear what he said to me!

Unkie scowls, and is about to bark back a reply when Jhe h'Leste clears his throat. That startles my uncle into considering what might have been about to come out of his mouth. "I must have been misunderstood." Jhe h'Leste clears his throat again. "Okay, okay. Maybe I wasn't saying it right."

"Oh, I think I understood it very--"

I elbow Jhe 'brelle in the side, forgoing my King's levels of subtlety. He frowns down at me, but says nothing.

"I..." Unkie ruffles his hair. "There's no time for this. Look. Maybe I could have said it a lot better than I did. I'm sorry..." He wrinkles his nose at having to give an apology to anyone. "I'm sorry for causing you unnecessary anger. I was concerned." He puts up his hands. "For your own well-being, Ebrelle. I didn't suspect you of anything. But you can look suspicious sometimes, to the wrong people." He looks at the door. "Speaking of which, please leave before Jhe Mitheoni gets here."

Jhe 'brelle looks at Unkie for a long time, quiet. I tug his hand a tiny bit. He takes in a deep breath, then exhales. "Thank you." Then he turns expectantly to Jhe h'Leste.

My King spreads his hands, then taps our shoulders. "Go on."

We vanish from Unkie's office just as someone knocks on the door.

* * *

After a brief pause in Jhe 'brelle's suite, I scry for the location that we're supposed to set up the laboratory in. Jhe 'brelle is reluctant to answer any questions about just what Unkie said to him, and we've got too much to do for me to pry about it now. I'll find out later. Besides, this key is pretty neat.

Jhe 'brelle frowns down at it. "It doesn't seem exceptional. Just an iron skeleton key..." He squints. "But so strange under the surface."

I grin. "It's keyed to my mind!"

"Ah. That explains the strangeness."

I manage to elbow him in the ribs again before I follow the key's instructions. "Hm. That's pretty neat." I take Jhe 'brelle's hand, then reach forward with the key. Holding it out, I turn it in mid-air as if it were in a lock. With a flash, we're no longer in Jhe 'brelle's suite.

He looks around us. "Oh... oh my." His voice sounds distant, as if he's a little lost. I realize the place is familiar to him. My brother recreated the gardens we played in when we were but children, Stevane. This is a place that I thought was lost to time. He reaches out, running his fingers down the trunk of a tree. Mother cut them down long ago, before twisting the garden dryads of Lyiannethe Manor to her whims. The corners of his mouth are drawn down, his brow furrowed. I didn't expect to have this back...

I smile. "Then it's a good place to start building anew, isn't it?"

After a moment of mulling that, he smiles in turn. "Yes."

* * *

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

When I talk to the plants in the garden, I get a fuller sense of just what Alestere has done for me. We're in a pocket of potential space that is, if it is located in a place at all, positioned somewhere underneath the Poet Hall. To create such a space and still have it be part of the wards, and part of Jhe o'Radia's domain, yet still somehow be owned by me as well, Luciprochoros had to have a hand in its creation. Which, of course, is why we met with him to do just that... and then promptly got sidetracked.

But the heart of the story is that Alestere had to create a well of potential for me to sculpt into my laboratories. One cannot stand in a void, though. He also had to create a starting point for me, a foundation to build upward, outward and downward from.

And apparently he saw fit to gift me with the memory of this garden, a garden full of plants that remember I talked to them once, if not every conversation I had with them. What a magnificent Poet my brother is! This garden is not the same garden that Mother killed and then twisted into something beyond life. It is a memorial to that garden.

The sunlight that warms my face feels just like the real thing, though. How long has it been since I've been let out of doors? The air is fresher here, even if it is just the memory of how air once was.

As I revel in what's here, Stevane pokes at the borders of the garden. There, the illusion of the grounds beyond gives way to the reality that Alestere didn't bother to give us more than fifty square feet of walking space before assuming that we'd get ourselves the rest of the way. "It stops right here, Jhe 'brelle! I could jump off!"

I'm a bit taken aback by how excited she sounds about that. "Why? You don't know what would happen."

She wrinkles her nose, deep in the sort of Poetic contemplation that always, without exception, makes the thinker appear excessively silly. "Poet thinking. This is potential space, under the Poet Hall. So I should be able to do anything I want." She grins. "And if I can't, then it'll prove my hunch."

My eyes widen. "What hunch is that?"

Facing me, she steps backward toward the edge of my reality. "That I'm not the person who can do anything I want in here." Then she takes another step away from me and falls back over the edge of the world.

A sort of panic wells up in my chest that I didn't think I had in me, and I reach forward with my mind, and I force her UP. Or I hope that I can, in any case. For all I know there is nothing special to this reality beyond a mysterious garden and my brother's assumption that Stevane and I know better than to jump off of things.

After that, a few things happen. Stevane's head with her curly red mess of hair floats up with the rest of her attached, she gets her footing on the garden soil again, and before she can look properly sheepish but as she dusts off her jacket as if nothing happened, I am consumed by extreme fury.

Something I did know I had in me, but only for those such as Luciprochoros.

Her eyes widen before my mouth opens, and I can feel her consider jumping off again, but I point down at the ground. "Stay," I growl. "Just stay, for a moment." As I walk toward her, I force myself not to use the commands on her that were once second nature to me, feeling ashamed that I even would have to remember that. The panic is still spiking up, though, making the desire to control my surroundings extremely difficult to ignore. Am I the same as before? Now that I have my own domain again, however tiny, am I just the same King that Lotus had to live through?

...Lyric. His name is Lyric.

I feel a poke. Perhaps it's something about the Poet space we're in, but even though it is a mental poke, the sensation is almost physical. Stevane looks up at me with the dryest of her patient expressions. "Are you done throwing your tantrum?"

I bite my lip.

"Rooting me to the spot is a nice touch, and proves the whole hypothesis pretty well, but you don't need to throw a pity party for yourself over it. Didn't we get you over that already? Maybe I should have worked harder on that." She frowns. "So let go of my feet."

I take a deep breath as I release control over her position. She immediately trots away from the space, getting behind me. "See, everything's okay. You need to learn to trust yourself." She puts her hands on my back. "I'll help you out with that!"

And then she shoves me harder than she should be able to manage, and it's my turn to topple over the edge of the world.

* * *

We're having tea (which she somehow found and prepared) at the table in the center of the garden while she explains her own hunches to me.

"I think this space doesn't have a lot of rules, so I sort of tricked you. You were able to tell me where to go and where not to go, but I was able to shove you around because you had yet to keep me from doing it." She shrugs. "So you can set the rules, but until you do, there's no rules for me to break." She laughs, holding a finger up. "And before you ask, I totally faked that fall. I could have saved myself."

I frown. "You didn't think I would unless I knew you couldn't?"

She shrugs. "I didn't know that you wouldn't assume I would handle myself just fine."

Ah. "You were being unduly dramatic."

She shrugs again and sips her tea. "I got my job done. But you were more shaken up than I expected." And then there's the quiet lack-of-poke she gives me, where she waits expectantly for me to explain myself.

I don't want to think about that moment, and more than that, I don't want to talk about it, but she follows my train of thought easily enough without any word to guide her. She may have fallen off of that cliff, but in that moment I saw Lyric slipping away. I remembered being a terrible beast of greed and self-interest, and with only him standing between me and destruction. I remembered how easily he could have been swept away because of me.

I wonder if he knows how much what he did stayed with me, how long those moments have stretched out in my life?

He has an idea, I think. Stevane pats my arm. I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd scare you that bad. And, after everything today, it was probably not the most appropriate stunt to pull. "I'm on edge myself, you see."

I raise an eyebrow, but she says nothing in reply, and in her mind I only sense those vague Poet-hunches that she's known me to grumble about as being a weak foundation for any decision. Still, she's got her own helping of fear and dread. "Did Lyiannethe leave you with that?"

"Lyiannethe was a pit." She shakes her head. "No. Just... a feeling. Maybe it's because of what Jhe Katherine's going to bring to us." She stands up. "I was sent on ahead here so that we'd have enough time to prepare for it. We've messed with each other's minds enough. We should go build stuff now, right?" She gestures to me. "So what do we make, maestro?"

I take a sip of tea and contemplate. The blueprints have been sketching themselves in my mind for quite some time. What to do, with all this space? In just a few hours time? I grin. In just a few hours time, in this space, I could make the world.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I've never seen him this happy. Never. And I know that part of it is simply that he's not had a whole lot to be happy about during his stay here in the past few months, but I feel I have a proper gauge of Jhe 'brelle's emotions by this point. What's amazing isn't just that he's so happy, but that he's so... open. I don't know he's happy because I can sense it welling up somewhere in his mind, behind a facade of dignity and calm. I know because he's grinning. The joy radiates from him.

He barely notices me noticing. He's almost consumed with the effort of setting the rules, making walls appear, constructing instruments from memory. It's intriguing to watch him learn what he can simply make appear by remembering the details of it. That's why huge swathes of his labs appeared so early on – he reconstructed much of what is still in the Aurocan Palace first, then modified it to suit his present needs.

I get the sense from him that he doesn't like his early work very much-- a reasonable structure, but misguided – and is only using it as a sketch to fill in once he's got the foundations the way he prefers them. Nul warped my judgment during those times, and so I must rethink the entire affair in parts. I haven't bothered bringing back entire wings of what once was. I feel the grin in his thoughts during the next bit. But that only means I get to do it all over again, the correct way. He casts his attention towards me then, finally focusing on me for the first time since he started to build. Do you have any input? Suggestions? Corrections?

I survey his mental map of the place. I think it's a bit cacophonous, but it's the start of things, so. I shrug. You're building everything at once, and so it's sort of there, but we're going to need a solid containment system. It'll have to be very solid, and have real rules to it.

He nods. I have some of that in the works. Humorously enough, we'll be using my last bit of scientific research before I was whisked away by the Judge. He giggles. Your silly older brother turned out to have a purpose beyond wrecking my instruments after all.

I raise an eyebrow, wondering just which brother he means. "Do tell."

"Here. I managed to reconstruct it all. We'll need better containment around its exterior, but it's a start, yes?" He leads me to a work table with a long set of wires and cables attached to some science-y bits that I'm sure will be important for something. Staring down at the whole arrangement, I get the strangest feeling.

My Arms are laughing.

I frown, poking them for a reason behind the mirth (there are few things more frightening than knowing your Arms find your present situation hilarious). The mental images of Bruce and Wagner spark another memory, that of Lyric's story near the end of his adventure in the Aurocan Palace. Bruce and Wagner were hooked up to this, or at least to the device this used to be, when it first existed. Jhe 'brelle had tried to measure them. "Planning any funny business?" My Arms sure think his attempt at reconstructing the experiment would amuse them, which makes it sound like either the worst or the best idea.

"Not of the sort this was built for the first time around, but as it stands it is a system to contain things with strange sentience, that might move on their own. I feel with a bit of application, we can make it into a containment system for whatever it is my daughter brings back with her." At that, his face gets more serious. His hand sneaks into a pocket of his robe, then withdraws after he reflects for a moment.

I've made a point of not asking about the specimen and what preservation techniques he's applied to it. Now, though, he's a little too somber for me to let it pass. "She's alright, you know." His frown deepens from sorrow to misery, and guilt wells up in the back of his mind.

I mess with things I shouldn't touch. I've tampered enough with one daughter. I could go too far, and then it'll make no difference whether I preserved her or not.

I poke him. "Us Armed leave fingers behind all the time, you know. And if you did it wrong, well..." I shrug, trying not to think too hard about the Armed and Poets that have been lost, that left behind blood or bits of themselves that got a little too old before anyone tried to regenerate from them. "It's a chancy thing, keeping insurance like that. If you save a life, that's good. If a life is lost, then it's sort of already..."

I can't really finish that sentence. I hug him around the shoulders. Well, around the ribs really, but it would have been the shoulders if I was ten feet tall.

He shakes his head. "It's not just the loss.." He sighs. "Some experiments... even I wonder if I should be allowed to carry them out."

"That's good. It means you're capable of restraint. No reason to crush yourself with guilt for something you haven't done." I step away. "Jhe Kathe will be fine, and besides, she was the one with the bright idea to leave something behind with you. That was just her caution." I grimace. My Armed brothers have had missing fingertips from time to time. They'd laugh it off, but it's still rather grim. "This is about Jhe Rahellene, isn't it?"

He looks taken aback, but the guilt wells up, sour in the back of his heart.

"You're doing good things here. You have good ideas. You're learning from the things you know were mistakes." I poke him with the toe of my boot. "And I'd comb your mind for hours making sure you knew just how true that is and reviewing with you every bit of guilt you misplace against yourself, but we're low on time. We can get to that later, okay? You're in your favorite place. Cheer up."

He smiles. The little grin is tiny, but genuine. "I am in my favorite place."

"So let's do your sciencey stuff."

He nods, then pauses, holding up a finger and turning towards me. "Not just Science. Thaumaturgy."

I blink. "Well, it's a neat word."

"There are many Sciences. Biology, Chemistry, Chirurgy, Psychology. I excel in those and others, of course, but my core strength is in Thaumaturgy, the study of the energies and structure of what comprises that stuff that everyone else merely refers to as 'magic'. I am not a King, an Armed or a Poet, Stevane. I am a Thaumist." His grin widens, his chest puffing out with the pride of a man who's just discovered what he is.

I smile. "That's great."

He lingers like that for a bit, then slumps his posture out of the haughty stance. "Right, let's get things done."

Thaumaturgy, as it turns out, is a lot like magic or Poetry, in my opinion, except that Jhe 'brelle insists that his work is different because he actually knows what he is doing. Which in itself is hilarious, because half the time he's testing things out just to see if they work. I will say that the wards he builds around the containment area are much different than ones I've previously encountered. They're built with a deadly precision, with no fallbacks or second chances. I recall Gerald mentioning that the Aurocan Palace's wards were quite brutal, and reports indicated that even after Jhe 'brelle was captured, they were very difficult to break. If those wards were anything like the ones Jhe 'brelle is building now, then I feel a pang of pity for my brothers in retrospect.

"Precision is the thing. Wards are traditionally a set of rules, but to make them iron-clad, one must have absolute certainty about the nature of his reality. 'Magic' is interesting to consider philosophically, but you don't construct thaumic wards to exclude 'magic'. You include the reality that is allowed, exclude the reality that isn't, and let philosophers argue over the spiritual nature of fairy dust."

I smirk at his haughty tone. He's setting himself up. "What about containing something that's a paradox, then? Nul isn't reality, in a sense, and can't even be defined in a lot of ways. How do you contain that?"

His smile remains, though it's more than a touch sad now. "You can define anything, so long as you have intimate knowledge of its nature."

He continues to work, explaining things to me as he goes. Some of it I understand, and some of it I don't, not yet. All I know is that whatever gets put inside this containment system is going to have a lot of trouble if it tries to get out.

* * *
Luciprochoros
* * *

I think I'd like it if 'Sy were here. He's the designated Archo handler. I'm not supposed to dirty my hands with that sort of thing anymore. It gets... awkward. Of course, he and the current Gahalespbar-archo don't get along well, but does anyone get along well with 'Sy?

In any case, I'm well-suited to state diplomacy, but Jhe Mitheoni tends to be a more... military affair. And I realize, for perhaps the first time, that I'm fairly annoyed at 'Sy for leaving on his own personal mission instead of tying up business here, or allowing for himself to be summoned back here without the threat of endangering him in 'possible enemy territory'. This was the worst time for him to take off, things weren't settled before he left, and now I've got Chethar's Law in my office. At least Alestere is useful. He's seen to the tea and coffee.

After enjoying a cup, Jhe Mitheoni looks up at me from the armchair we've seated him in. He takes one look at my face and he laughs. It takes a couple of moments for him to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry, I'm dreadfully sorry." He coughs to try and disguise a residual chuckle. "I just... don't really see that face often at home, and it just looks kind of funny when someone's so nervous around me." He grins, still radiating that youth I always associate with him, no matter how much beard he's grown by now and no matter how many hundreds of years he's been in office. Blast me, it's like looking at a puppy. I can't be mad at him.

I wave away what I'll pretend is simply concern for my high nerves. "I'm sorry, it's been... hectic. Under control, mind you, but very, very busy." I glance up at the clock on the wall, much relevance as it has to the situation. "And to be honest, we expected to see you a few months from now. I certainly hope Chethar doesn't expect us to be fully prepared just yet."

He laughs, waving his hand. "Oh that." His face gains a moment of serious reflection as he realizes the import of what I've just said. "Oh. Should we not expect it all to be done already?"

"Not... yet, no."

His face remains grave as he considers my answer for what feels like an hour, but probably isn't even but a few seconds. "Ah. Well... I suppose that's acceptable." Then his serious demeanor cracks for a moment before he breaks into that grin again. "Got you! I'm not really even here for that. Otherwise Jerithea'd be here too, of course! You know how Advocates are about that sort of thing."

I try not to contemplate 'that sort of thing' too deeply. "I was wondering where she might be, if not here. How is she these days?"

"Oh, just fine. She's overseeing the important stuff while I'm out here for this mission. Life goes on. Weather's beautiful in Hacavah now, glad she's not missing it." He frowns, his whole expression taking on a slightly crushed demeanor. "Or it was about three months ago, when I'd left. Should be beautiful this whole season, really. Shame I'll miss it all."

I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep up with the prattle of youth. "With that timing, it sounds as if your ship turned right back around to Crux Radia as soon as it had sight of the Chetharian harbor."

He waves his hand, draining the rest of his tea. "Oh no, not so quick as that. Close, though. We had a week or two to arrange affairs. Honestly this mess is Chethar's fault, and we apologize for all the inconvenience. I could have saved us some confusion, and quite a bit of time, if I'd just gotten this done while I was here. Sadly, I didn't have the foresight, and the Emperor apparently wished that I wrap up a few things before inviting anyone over." He notes my surprised face. "Ah, yes. I suppose I should get to that now. Enough of my prattle."

Well, to his credit, Mitheoni is marvelous at self-directing the flow of his end of a conversation. Possibly it's through the skill of not letting the other person get a word in edgewise.

"You spoke of inviting someone over, Gahalespbar-archo?" My Poet King cuts in smoothly as he refills Mitheoni's cup.  Alestere is, of course, used to prompting after dramatic pauses.  But as Mitheoni nods to him, it also means Alestere's gotten himself included in the conversation.

Mitheoni clears his throat, possibly attempting to look a bit more official.  "Ah, yes.  I may have been better off taking the matter directly to you, Jhe h'Logos, but I lacked a formal introduction.  Being unsure of the overall process, I decided to take it up with the most authoritative person in Crux Radia."  He waves to me in a strange multi-tiered deferential gesture that makes it appear as if his hand's waltzing in my direction, but that's Chetharian etiquette for you.

(I once heard 'Sy growl that the next time he saw someone's hand start up that 'overwrought mincing apology,' he was going to shoot it off.  Now I really miss him.)

Alestere tilts his head in his own show of deference, charmed to see a show of foreign etiquette.  "It's certainly my pleasure to have received his most officious introduction.  Please, tell me what business brings you to my country?"

I'll say this for Captain Jules: he's got a good eye for value.  I'm about to see why he was so keen on getting his Ship's Diplomat back.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I have met many people for the first time in this life that were already well familiar with Elete, or even Elessandre.  I have resigned myself by now to the fact that I do not have the advantage of making a first impression on the world at large, but as luck would have it, both my predecessors had a knack for paving my way quite adequately.  In the case of the Gahalespbar-archo, Elete set a marvelous foundation for my work, always being courteous and well-spoken when chance would have him cross the archo's path.  So it confuses me to a certain degree that Jhe Mitheoni appears so on-edge in my presence.  With Jhe o'Radia he seemed to feel confident that he had sufficient grasp of the situation, but now that conversation has turned my way, he seems to have difficulty starting.

"Pardon me for asking," I say, "but is anything amiss, Jhe Mitheoni?"

A perplexed look crosses his face as he looks at me, then shakes himself out of it.  "I'm sorry..." he frowns.  "Do you have a brother?"

I blink.  Jhe o'Radia did introduce me by title, not proper name.  Perhaps that is the origin of his confusion.  "I have several brothers, in fact.  You've met at least one of them--"

Jhe o'Radia can't seem to wipe the smirk off of his face.  "Jhe Alestere, I believe the Gahalespbar-archo has recognized the striking resemblance you bear towards your predecessor."

I raise my hand to slide a strand of hair behind my ear, and then when Jhe o'Radia smirks even moreso, I realize that I am preening.  "Well, we were very much the same sort of person.  It takes ones of similar mindset and disposition to each other to fill the same role, after all."

The Gahalespbar-archo raises an eyebrow.  "Odd, I've found that not to be the case... but I don't believe I have much experience in the ways of what it is that you do."

The way mirth radiates from my Emperor, I know I must have said something out of sorts.  Then I remember that Jhe Mitheoni's predecessor was 'Sy.  Oh dear, have I said entirely the wrong--

Jhe o'Radia shrugs.  "I understand your confusion, Gahalespbar-archo.  Most Xaillyndessen of the Aurocan royal blood look alike to me as well."  He still has that streak of humor to him, but now it seems as if he's trying to cover something up.

I look back over to our Archo guest, and see that he is scrutinizing me with a special sort of look that I'm only used to seeing on 'Sy's face.  There's the odd tingle of the Law inspecting me.  "I'm sorry," he says, "but so I'm sure that Chethar has the proper facts: Jhe Elethe-travente did in fact die, yes?"

I'm sitting up a bit straighter in my seat as I feel I'm being measured up, yet again, to a man whose time has passed.  "Elethe-travente has passed away and moved on.  He is no longer with us."

The Gahalespbar-archo shakes his head at himself after measuring the honesty of my testimony.  "My apologies.  It must have been a great loss to you."

"...Yes."  I am still not familiar with being at such a loss for words.  Elete, a man far older than I am, never had seemed to get accustomed to it either.  Thankfully I recover quickly.  "I'm sorry to be a distraction from today's business, Gahalespbar-archo..."

He waves the apology away, hopefully along with the entire issue of where I came from and who I am.  "Yes, of course.  Onwards to my true purpose in being sent here."

I won't go so far as to lie about it, but Jhe o'Radia's nervousness about divulging the whole truth is enough to make me wary of saying too much.  What gets at me even more than that, though, is that I'm rather aggravated with being confused with a person who had his chances to live and was quite determined to expire those chances.  Elete was a good man, and he had his day.  My time travel abilities may not be what his were, but he will forever remain in the past, whereas I am the future.

So there.

The Gahalespbar-archo goes on, oblivious to my smoldering.  "Chethar prefers to assume that all pressing matters between Crux Radia and Audiva Rocale will be settled in a timely manner, so as I said, I wasn't sent here in regards to that.  With the assumption that things will proceed as normal, though, Emperor Theos wishes to host an emissary from this side of the sea.  We had expected to receive one ten years ago, but it seems that circumstances arose that were unfortunate for all parties."  The Archo's eyes narrow as he likely recalls the fate of the Chetharian galleon that was supposed to carry the previous ambassador to Chethar.  I don't blame him for such a reaction.  Were I not filled with sorrow in contemplation of the fate of the Poet that was intended to serve as such an ambassador, I would likely glare as well.

Jhe Edward will not be able to serve as ambassador, no.

Jhe o'Radia's face may as well be carved from stone.  "Unfortunate... yes.  I imagine Chethar desires another ambassador to be sent in the previous one's place."

The Gahalespbar-archo blinks as if his words have literally been stepped on.  "Yes, Jhe o'Radia, I was getting to that."  He laces his fingers together, clasping his hands and resting them atop his knee.  "Chethar desires another ambassador to be sent in the previous one's place."

My Emperor almost falls over.

The Gahalespbar-archo catches my eye.  "While Chethar does not make demands regarding the methods of diplomacy Crux Radia must employ, Emperor Theos strongly suggests that a Poet specifically be sent instead of just a regular dignitary.  The Most High is concerned at the state of communication between our two Empires, and it is our understanding that Poets exist to facilitate communication."  He nods deferentially to me, as if conferring a favor by imposing that definition on myself and my Poets.

I nod to him, but give no reply until I've word from my own Emperor.  Of course, it's likely that I might be stalling for time.  Producing a Poet of high diplomatic capabilities right now is a difficult proposition. A Poet ready to speak to the Most High himself if needs be, able to handle any given difficult situation with aplomb, and at least passably fluent in Chessic so as not to end up in more awkward situations than are necessary.  I'd prefer a diplomatic genius, of course, but our best diplomatic genii are either still recovering from their time in Lyiannethe or are, in the case of Jhe Edward, somewhat permanently missing.  Just making up a list of people suitable for the post is proving difficult, though.  Our most capable Poets are all on important posts right now, some of which involve Armed duties, and I don't care to tread in 'Sy's territory.

It's a shame.  If Elric were able to speak he would be ideal.

Jhe o'Radia's face is still unreadable, his hand on his chin in contemplation.  He glances my way, then clears his throat.  "I believe Jhe h'Logos will have the best appraisal of the situation."

"Thank you, Jhe o'Radia."  I perch my hand to my chin, thinking quickly.  "Will you need to leave immediately, Gahalespbar-archo?  It would be best if I could take a day to review the candidates for the position, considering the importance of the role."

"Ah, of course.  It is preferred that we not dally in Crux Radia for more than is necessary, but there's no reason to make a decision hastily."  He smiles broadly.  "Might I meet the candidates?"

Oh goodness.  He's so eager, but my immediate reply would be 'what candidates?'  That wouldn't look terribly good for us.  I steeple my fingers.  "Yes.  About that."

Jhe o'Radia suddenly seems intent in studying the embroidery of his sleeve rather than watch me try to explain our situation.

"I'm not sure of how much you've been told regarding the situation with Audiva Rocale a few months ago, but it seems that subversive forces had been keeping many of our Poets against their will for quite a time.  It wasn't brought to light until recently because said Poets were supposedly at distant outposts - the Poet who should have gone to Chethar ten years ago was one of them.  We've rescued almost all of them, and are making strides to recover the rest of our flock... but the Poets we regained haven't recovered to an extent where sending one out to a distant post would be wise yet."  I spread my hands.  "And as such, though we have a few Poets that were unaffected by such an ordeal, that were never taken or taken very briefly, they are stretched thin among their posts as it is.  Chethar must be sent a Poet, of course, but the pot I have to pick from is not very big, and whomever goes will have to be replaced here in whatever position they serve."  I claps my hands.  "So, Chethar shall have a Poet, but I am embarrassed to say that you will not have as many candidates to talk to as I would hope.  I apologize for the oversight - as we had discovered Jhe Edward's fate, it fell within my authority to appoint a replacement for him.  We should have been ready for you."

The Gahalespbar-archo does not reply for a time.  He seems to be conferring directly with the Most High, which sets my nerves on end just a tad.  Every now and then he looks over to me with different eyes than before, and I suspect that I'm being directly examined by the Emperor of Chethar.  Then the silent discussion seems to come to a close.  His eyes return to that blue that seems to darken towards the center, but never actually opens into a pupil.  "The Most High has reviewed your situation.  You have one day."

* * *
Elam
* * *

I regard the Gahalespbar-archo politely, glancing over the decorations on his uniform, noting their details, comparing them to some things I remember from the inside the archives.  There's some odd resemblance to the traditional dress of Moana, but I don't think he'd care to know that.  From my studies I'm quite aware of the political and cultural differences between Moana and Chethar.

I sip my tea and contemplate.  I don't think the section on Chethar in the archives is expansive enough.  I'll have to see to that.  Most of what we have in there are histories written by Radians or early accounts taken down by the early Aurocan merchants.  The Radian accounts show an understandable amount of bias, and the merchant notes are simply sparse.  We could really use a modern account by someone who's visited the continent in the past ten years.  I'll ask Father later if that would be possible.

Hm.  The Archo certainly makes a variety of facial expressions.  And sometimes it seems as if he's talking to me.  There are some very important things for my mind to sort through, though.  For instance, Chethar has very few written works that I know of, and fewer in our archive's collection.  It's very strange, because I know they have a system of writing.  I've mastered it, of course.  It's sufficient for the type of expression one would normally put down into permanent form.  But they simply don't seem to produce literature, be it fictional or non-fictional.

Stranger and stranger.  I wonder how a culture became so stunted in the form of the written word.  I could ask one of our linguists to commence a study--

Ah, Father is tapping me on the shoulder.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

"You may go now, Archivist.  Thank you for your exemplary attendance."

My son rises and then bows to each of us, showing perfect form in the motions of etiquette.  His eyes are far off as he does so, though.  I know he thinks about the people and things around him, and he certainly can go on at length about certain subjects, but...

"Thank you, Father."

The Gahalespbar-archo watches my son leave.  His brow furrows in confusion as he looks up to me.  "That was Jhe Eleth-travente's son, yes?"

"Ah, yes.  I adopted him."  It's essentially the truth.  I've paid Elam more attention than I think Elete ever did after the rest of his family died.  Perhaps I feel it's my due, but I also have a certain amount of affection and sympathy for the boy.  He's extremely brilliant, but few understand his subtleties.

Our Chetharian guest is in utter befuddlement.  "I thought he was mute until he spoke to you.  Was he one of the Poets to be affected adversely by captivity?"

"Elam?  ...He spent some time in captivity, yes.  But to tell the truth he's always been like that."  I sigh heavily.  "He's not... social.  But he's mastered Chessic, even knows a fair bit of Ancient Chessic.  I thought he would be more engaged by the prospect of traveling to your land, but his head's always in the books he keeps."  I sigh as I sit, clasping my hands and examining the knuckles.

"Ah."  Mitheoni leans back in his chair, then pops his own knuckles in a stacatto that makes Jhe o'Radia jump.  "So, next candidate?"  He still looks excited, which is good.

Now  I just have to think of someone else to introduce to him.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

Perched on the edge of one of the new worktables, I watch Jhe 'brelle become more and more energized as he produces more and more equipment.  From what I can tell, it's mostly coming from memory - occasionally he has to slow down to create something new.  This Poet-space has the sort of energy that allows for spontaneous creation of things that already exist - or could exist without too much of a stretch of the imagination.  Just inanimate things, though - the garden in the center is, thus far, the only place where living things were created here.  And no matter how much Jhe 'brelle likes to go on about how his abilities and his brother's abilities are related, and how he himself is the center of talent in the family, Jhe h'Leste is the Poet and Jhe 'brelle is not.  There are limits.

And if there can be limits, it seems that Jhe 'brelle will do his best to test them.  "Ach.  I'll need to build that myself.  Stevane, could you come here?  I need to make this wrench... better."

I scoot off the counter and drop to the floor, walking over as I survey his work area warily.  Just what all is this going to do?  I can sense the intent in his mind, but there's so much going on at once in there.  Once the means presented themselves, he certainly provided the ambition.  There's a device that looks identical to a squirrel feeder, and another that looks like it would be perfect at scooping out eyeballs from a person's skull.

Jhe 'brelle points at the first device I glanced at.  "That's to keep the shenanigans occupied when they find their way into my lab."  Well, to his credit, Millie's already investigating it.  "And that other one is sort of a... well..."

I get the shape of the original intended use from him.  I jump.  "You were gonna scoop out Armed eyeballs?"

He looks affronted at my offended tone.  "I was going to put them back in after I had a good look at them."  My expression doesn't change.  "Well, yes, I was going to dissect them, but I'd still have put them back in afterward."

"Just to prove you could put them back in."

"Well, yes..."  He waves that nasty issue away.  "I was just making things I remembered.  I'm sure it'll make a fine melon baller now that its purpose has expired.  In any case, this device here is the matter at hand... put your finger in there."  After a few moments, he gets tired of waiting.  "Really, Stevane.  Would I hurt you?"

When he says it in that mildly hurt voice, I feel a little bad for being suspicious, but still: "You were going to use the melon baller on Gerald."

Jhe 'brelle looks away.  "He still has both eyeballs.  Round, perfectly smooth, functional, looking at things all the time.  I'm sure he pauses every now and then to contemplate art, never knowing that he should be thanking me for not getting around to the test soon enough."  He pauses.  "Okay yes, that's not a very good reason for you to trust me with your fingers."  He sticks his finger into the socket to demonstrate.  "It won't hurt you.  I'm just calibrating it."

I raise an eyebrow.  "Oh?  For what?"

"For you, and my dear daughter, and my beloved brother, and anyone else I feel should enter this particular space and still remain in my laboratory at all."  He gestures to the area he's enclosed as a place to examine whatever material Jhe Kathe brings back.  "I don't want anyone getting into what we keep in there unless they're specifically allowed to."

After his casual dismissal of my brother's right to working, unmolested eyeballs, it's strange to hear him so concerned about the welfare of others.  But I can sense that Jhe 'brelle is very serious about what he's building, and very intent on making sure that as few people as possible come into contact with what hurt him so badly.  As it is, he's hesitant about letting the three people he just mentioned into the workspace, but he's absolutely sure that we wouldn't allow him to go in unattended.

I pat his arm.  "You just have to explain what something is for before asking people to stick their digits in, silly."  I slide my ring finger in, unable to hold back a flinch.  But it doesn't hurt.  It doesn't feel like anything at all, really.

Jhe 'brelle scrutinizes the smooth round device that has my hand, then motions for me to withdraw.  "That was long enough.  It has your energy reading now."  He picks up the thing by the handle.  It's a metal ball with a hole in it on a stick.

"That's a wrench?"

He shrugs.  "It's certainly not a spanner, is it?  Now, move aside please."

I step away from the work table, which he promptly clobbers with the 'wrench'.  It doesn't even dent the counter.  But then, Jhe 'brelle isn't a particularly strong eight foot tall man.  "Did that feel good?"

He considers.  "Yes, a bit."  He gestures to the counter.  "Can you sense it?"  He takes my wrist and moves my hand closer.  "Feel with your touch if you must.  You should be able to sense energy this close.  You have the potential, and I know you can sniff out wards."

I concentrate.  It is a bit different where he hit the counter.  A bit more... maybe I could call it mellow?  There's a resonance to energy.  If you could think of the force around the counter as an ongoing note, this area is a bit more in tune.

"Yes," he says softly, thinking to himself.  "That is an excellent way to put it, Stevane."  Then he raises his wrench.  "So now let us tune the entire orchestra!"

* * *

I shake my head as Jhe 'brelle rubs at his elbow.  "I think I strained something."

"I can't imagine how."  I lift the wrench now that he's done clobbering the lab area.  "Pretty neat.  Do you have to do all of that again after Jhe Katherine sticks her finger in it?"

"Ah.  No, that was the point of making the wrench.  It's retroactive.  Now that I've primed the area, tuning the instrument further will simply add to the chorus."

I look dubious.  "That's a terrible mix of metaphors.  Are you sure you're the Poet King's brother?"

He holds his finger up.  "Young lady, I happen to be the very well from which all talent in my family sprung forth.  What skills Alestere exhibits are the ones I was generous enough to leave behind for him, as a benevolent gift."

"That's not really how talents work--"

"Shush!  I am the Thaumist.  I know these things."  He brushes a strand of hair away from his face in a gesture that I know is to hide the grin that slips through his deadpan facade.  He cocks his head, dropping the pompous act.  "Speaking of my daughter... shouldn't she be arriving soon?"

Hm.  I sort of hear something.  Sort of like a knocking, or a far-off call.

Jhe Stevane?  Daddy?  Where are you?

I blink.  "She's here already.  How do we let her in?"

Jhe 'brelle frowns for a moment, stares at his wrench, and then whacks the nearest wall with it.  The door we entered through appears on the wall.  I know the wrench didn't really have anything to do with that, and that Jhe 'brelle simply controls this space and thus where the entrance is, but I have to admit that it's pretty a impressive effect.  He puts his hand on the doorknob, but I elbow him before he opens it.  He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at me.

I exhale and blow aside a few stray strands of hair.  "Honestly, Jhe 'brelle, opening the door to your secret lab while just standing in front of it?  You never think about safety."  He steps to the side in a position where he can have the door as a barrier between himself and whoever comes in.  "There.  Doesn't that seem safer?"

He rolls his eyes.  "Come now, what sort of dangerous thing could my daughter possibly let in with her?"

Daddy?  Jhe Stevane?  Is it the door in the suite?  Do I open it?  Come on, I've got something with me that I would really prefer to stick behind some wards!

I give Jhe 'brelle an I-told-you-so look.  He ignores me with aplomb, then twists the doorknob.  "Come on in, dear.  You can put whatever it is away in a moment."

"Ugh, thanks.  Come on, Lute, let's get rid of this thing."  Jhe Katherine steps through, followed by my brother.

I draw before I even realize what he's holding.  Garnet saw it before I did.  And when I see it, Crisanto comes out to join us.  Jhe Kathe raises one of her Arms before either of mine can do anything besides voice their displeasure at our uninvited guest.  The long, thin sword.  Gedulah, I recall, or perhaps one of my Arms reminds me.  Gedulah meets both my Arms with a soft whisper of steel, a gentle admonition.

Jhe Katherine raises an eyebrow at me.  "Is there a problem, Jhe Stevane?"

I grit my teeth.  "They really don't like that thing."

"And you?"  Jhe Katherine's gaze is very kind, but also eerie.  Blue and gold, not quite Armed, or maybe more Armed than anyone.  Who knows, with the Advocate?  It certainly makes me stop to consider myself.  Meanwhile my brother glowers over the scene, unhappily burdened with the dead Kommissar's military fork.

I can remember a lot, all in a flurry, as if the whole episode with Xen Xaillyndesse happened within the span of a second.  "We can't let that thing around Jhe 'brelle."

"Daddy?"  Jhe Kathe looks up at her father with the same blue-gold eyes she gazed at me with.

If Jhe 'brelle is disquieted by the regard of the Advocate, his voice doesn't betray it.  "I have built a sufficient containment for that filthy thing.  Now let us put it away before it makes a mess on the rug."

Jhe Kathe looks away from he and I, then lowers her sword.  My objection has been overruled by Jhe 'brelle's testimony.  I step back, lower my Arms, and give my brother room to pass.

I still have to keep myself from striking at that thing in his hands as he walks past me.  It's as vile as I remember the Kommissar being, glints with every bit of awfulness that lab had, contains all the--

I feel a hand on my shoulder.  I look up, my eyes focusing through the blur my thoughts had made of my vision.  Jhe 'brelle looks down at me, his face serious and his eyes sad.  I can feel his mind prodding at my own, verifying my well-being.  More than anything I can sense his concern.

He pushes at my shoulder, nudging me towards the door.  "Go on," he says.

I frown, not understanding.

He shakes his head, then puts both hands on either of my temples.  There are no words between us.  I just know, in the wink of a moment, that he felt my memories of my Armed awakening in Lyiannethe Manor very clearly.

As if they were my own.  He removes his hands, then points toward the door.  Go.  This is going to hurt you if you stay, and I can't have that.

I'm about to protest.  Who's going to protect him from that awful thing?  It doesn't occur to me, of course, that Jhe Katherine and Lute are both much better equipped to deal with it.

Of all the moments to do so, now he smiles, and a chuckle slips out.  Dearest Stevane.  Perhaps every now and then, I may be permitted to protect you, yes?

Then, as gently as he can, he shoves me through the door and closes it after me.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

"Alright, now put your finger in here."

My daughter looks up at me with a dubious expression very similar to the one Stevane gave me.  Can you believe?  Even my daughter.

I hold the wrench towards her in what I hope is a more nonthreatening manner.  "Oh come now, Stevane did it."

"A winning argument for anything."  The tall Armed boy behind my daughter shifts his weight.  The staff he's carrying dwarfs his impressive height.  It's a bit rare for me to meet people at anywhere near my eye level, so that's saying something.  He looks up balefully at me, apparently not enjoying his courier role.  "Sir, I'll stick my finger in anything you want if you give me a place where I can put this awful thing down."

Katherine sighs heavily.  "Fine."  She slides her finger into the wrench, immediately keying the inner laboratory's wards to her energy.  She looks a bit surprised when nothing happens that's apparent to her.  Goodness, am I a terrible Father or something?  ...I'm not going to answer that question.

The Armed boy sticks his pinkie out while he holds his grip on the Kommissar's weapon.  It's the best he can do, given his position.  I scrutinize him for a moment, but Katherine gives her nod, and I trust her judgment.  Of course, it's only after I've slipped the wrench over the boy's finger that I realize I never actually told her what this thing does.  Ah, well.  I can always punt him from the labs the moment I don't like him.  I heft the wrench after I'm done, then gesture for the two to follow me.  Stevane might have hope for me yet, because I never entirely turn my back on the boy.  I may have been pent up in one room for months, and thus a bit stir crazy, but the proper protocols of security are starting to stir in the back of my mind now.  Certain paranoias have proven healthy to cultivate throughout my life.  And there's something about him that's bothering me.  "Katherine, might I know whom else I have allowed into my laboratory?"

"This is Lute, Daddy.  He's a good friend.  He's one of Stevane's older brothers, and gets into the least trouble out of all of them."  She pauses for a moment.  "Actually, he's Lyric's twin."

"I heard you helped my brother get into a lot of trouble."  The Akribastes boy grins at me with what might be admiration and is much more likely to be a warning.  Ah, yes.  I'm definitely not going to turn my back on him.  It is strange to see Lyric's face given elongated proportions and placed on someone that tall.  That's probably what bothered me about him.  But another Akribastes around... they always mean trouble for me, even if it's the good kind.

"I'm not sure if my help was necessary."  I step aside, gesturing to the inner laboratory area where the research materials are to be kept.  "Now.  I imagine you're going to want to set that thing down.  I'll show you the proper place where it should rest, but don't let go or let your guard down until I give my say-so.  There are subtle workings in here beyond the comprehension of most people."  I wave them inside the inner perimeter.

He sniffs the air like a dog.  "Yeah, I can see where you stuck the extra wards.  Pretty neat."

I frown for a moment, but Katherine gives me a poke before I can fret.  Lute's a little unmannered sometimes, Daddy, but he's one of the people I'd pick first if I ever needed someone to defend me.  And he's a bit shaken up by that thing.  Let's let him put it down as soon as possible, okay?

I nod, telling myself to trust my daughter and not give the Akribastes boy a hard time.  He doesn't seem to beg for the idiot treatment like Jhe Gerald did, so he has his charms already.  I twist the wrench, then hold it up towards the boy.  "I'm going to need one of the tines inserted into the opening, if you could oblige me."

"Yeah, sure."  The boy frowns as he wrangles the weapon into place.  It looks less like a struggle with the logistics of such a long and sharp-ended object and more like he's fighting the weapon for control.  I furrow my brow... then lurch backward before the thing carves a cleft into my chin.

Katherine utters a curse that a young lady should know better than to use in front of one of her parents, then yanks Jhe Lute back by the hair before the Kommissar's fork can slit his throat.  When it misses him, I hear another curse from the weapon itself.

I hit it with the wrench, binding the military fork with the wards before it can cause more havoc.  To be honest, it's more of a reflex out of jumpiness than any sort of cleverness on my part, but if anyone asks, I did it on purpose.  Once the wards have control, the fork whips out of Jhe Lute's grasp and falls to the worktable in the center of the inner lab, ready for examination.

I keep my distance from the table, checking over my daughter for any injuries and keeping an eye on the Akribastes boy, just in case.  No ill effects that I can see.  "Katherine dear... can you lend me any insight into just what sort of weapon that thing is?  I know the energy of Arms, and that certainly doesn't come close."

Jhe Lute growls, a wicked sharp throwing knife in his hand.  "That thing is nothing like Arms."

Katherine pats his back, then rubs roughly between his shoulderblades, almost as if she were petting a big dog.  "Father doesn't mean to insult, Lute.  It is a weapon that moves and speaks on its own, though."  She looks up at him with concern.  "Are you feeling okay?  You had to hold that thing all during the trip home."

Lute grumbles, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, and shakes his head.  At first I assume he's just a moody sort.  But now that I have my lab, certain tricks and tactics are coming back to me with their old ease.  It's simple to feel for his mind and the cloud that's settled around it.  I reach forward towards one of his temples, fool me.  His non-knife hand immediately clamps around my wrist, and the boy twists me as if to snap my fragile little bones.

Then I knock him out with my other fist.  Well, mostly with mental clout.  I like to think of it as a gentleman's bludgeon.  "Katherine, I don't think your friend is feeling well today."

Katherine stares up at me with wide eyes, then looks down at Lute.  A look of horror passes over her face, followed by a hysterical bark of laughter.  She bends down and picks up the throwing knife, tilting her head as if to listen to it.  "Kuroroi thinks you had a good idea, so he didn't hurt you."  She glares up at me.  "If this were a different situation you could have gotten killed.  Don't take Arms lightly even if you think their Armed aren't expecting an attack."

I'd admonish her, because I certainly know what I'm doing, but she looks so concerned for my well-being that I just don't have the heart for it.  I really did give her a scare.  "Yes, dear."

She shakes her head.  "Kuroroi says to check his mind out and see if Malice has scarred him any."  She sees my frown of confusion at the unfamiliar name.  "Malice is apparently the name of the dead Kommissar's charming fork.  Daddy... do you know anything about it?  He did work for you, didn't he?"

I shake my head as I reach under Lute's arms (after giving him a good prod with my toe and giving his unconscious mind a very intense moment of scrutiny) and lift him up onto an available work surface.  "I kept my distance from the Kommissar as much as possible.  He worked under Lyiannethe's domain, not mine.  I am just as surprised as you are at his newfound capabilities."  I snort.  "He's proving more effective as a corpse than he did as a living man."

Katherine shudders.  An image ghosts across her mind - the fork piercing through her chest, the Kommissar grinning over her.

I slip an arm around her, hugging her close as I lean down and kiss the top of her head.  I say nothing.  After a few moments, she fidgets, and that's when I know to let go.

Time to take stock of what's been brought into my laboratory.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I will say this for the Gahalespbar-archo: he has impeccable manners as a guest.  Even after several hours of fumbling interviews and meandering conversations as to who might be a suitable fit for the role of Poet ambassador to Chethar, he still has a patient demeanor about him.  His good cheer lends me a bit of strength and focus through the task, even as it puts me in a bit of a panic.  I haven't seriously suggested another candidate in the last thirty minutes, and I'm beginning to suspect that I have none.  If I have to send in a Poet who is completely unprepared for the task, that will put them in danger, and also make for a sorry show of effort on Crux Radia's part at an extremely sensitive time.

But there's simply no one available who fits the role.  All of my most capable Poets are at appointments I simply don't want to change, or I have no official say over.  I never realized exactly how many of my highest-level Poets are spoken for primarily by 'Sy.  Almost all of them are at an Armed appointment - and in the cases of Jhe Cary and Jhe Bronwyn, they're not even Armed!

In a way it's a true testament to the usefulness of a Poet that I can't find one who we can dispense with.  But the fact is, we'll have to dispense with someone, and sooner or later I'm going to have to pick.

Jhe Bronwyn's Chessic is a bit rusty, but maybe she... no, she assists the Judge directly, and I really don't want to give up the important influence she has in day to day Armed operations.  Her insights are so valuable in that role, especially with 'Sy being so uncommunicative in the past few months.  I can't let communication between the Halls fall apart.

"Ahh..." The Gahalespbar-archo leans back after savoring another sip of tea.  "I must say, the tea you supply your guests in the Palace is top-rate, Jhe o'Radia.  I've taken a fancy to it ever since my visit a few months ago."

"Well, that's good to hear."  Jhe o'Radia shifts his stance as he leans against the wall, surveying the discussion.  "We'll have to send a significant sample back with you when you return to your homeland.  We do export shipments of it, you know--"

The Gahalespbar-archo tsks.  "Now-now, Jhe o'Radia, I'm not going to let you rope me into another trade discussion when you know I simply don't have the authority over the treasury for that sort of thing."

"Oh.  Well, in that case, I suppose the samples can be free..."

Jhe o'Radia's business-related tangents have certainly bought us a fair amount of time in our discussions, but I'm not sure how much longer the tactic is liable to work.  The Gahalespbar-archo's seemingly unending patience is showing signs of strain.  He does seem to be able to finally recognize a stalling tactic after it's been used on him a dozen times within the span of one hour.  "Now, I'm not one to criticize economic policy, Jhe o'Radia, but I simply don't have the time for this discussion when, quite honestly, it really does seem as if we haven't gotten anywhere in the matter at hand."  He steeples his fingers.  "I know that it's difficult to spare someone, but I simply cannot believe that you don't have anyone for this role.  If Crux Radia is sincere about wanting to work with the Most High in the times ahead, then having his ear, in a sense, would seem to be a priority, would it not?  I simply can't think of anything more important to your Empire's future right now, considering recent events.  So, let us not waste any more time."  He clasps his hands together.  "I know!  I'll think of a Poet, and you can tell me whether they fit the qualifications."

I blink.  That is simply the last approach I would ever consider for this sort of task.  It puts us in the position of trying to explain why his candidates won't work-- in fact, it's more of an interrogation technique than anything else.  Which is of course why the Law of Chethar came up with it and we didn't.

I can't think of a single good reason to not do as he suggests, though.  Well, the Gahalespbar-archo has hardly met any Poets, has he?  He probably can't think of anyone--

"So, as it so happens, I've been thinking about this ever since I was having this wonderful tea of yours again.  Now, Jhe h'Logos, you weren't around when this occurred, so of course you wouldn't know that one of your Poets made quite an impression on me during  my last visit!  We even conversed in Chessic for a time.  I was rather impressed to hear someone who had never been to Chethar speak our language so effortlessly."  He beams.  Whichever Poet ended up running across him certainly made a good impression.

I smile, starting to feel a bit of relief.  Maybe fortune will win out for us this time.  I've probably overlooked someone after all.  "Really, that's quite wonderful to hear.  The Poet Hall does strive for excellence in its language training.  Do you recall the Poet's name, then?"

He beams.  "Can't say that I do!  But you'll know.  She was Arik's funny little daughter, looked just like him.  She had a strange thing like a cat that she was trying to hide from me.  Really quite charming once we got past that spot of awkwardness.  In any case, she might seem to you to be a bit young for the job, but I liked her quite a bit.  I think the Emperor would love to meet her and her cat-thing.  In fact, I recall he was quite curious about the creature.  So it seems to me that she would be perfect for the appointment, if you've no objections of course."  He pauses for a bit, possibly to give my heart a chance to beat again.  "Ah, now I remember.  Jhe Stevane, it was.  Is she in Beleth now?  Is there any reason she can't serve as a diplomat?  I know you're a bit shorthanded on staff right now, but surely she can't already have a position more important than that.  I'm sure she'd love to visit her father's homeland."

* * *
Stevane
* * *

The first thing I do is pound on the door Jhe 'brelle just closed in my face.  It's undignified, pointless, and completely uncalled for.  I'm not even sure if I'm doing it alone, or my Arms are part of the reaction.  Crisanto is in a rage, while Garnet smolders in silence.  I stab the door once - that's Crisanto - and it does absolutely nothing.  I raise her to fire at the door instead, and then Crisanto realizes that she's not a gun.

I want to shoot it I want to shoot it I want to shoot it I want to shoot it!!  She turns on me.  You need to learn to shoot a gun, crispymeat!

I look balefully back at Crisanto, wondering how strange I must look, scowling like I'm constipated while pointing my own knife at my nose.  A lot of goofy things I saw my brothers do while I grew up make more sense now.  Garnet just regards us both from the back of my mind like we're complete and utter fools.  I think she's right, personally.  I'm stupid angry right now and I know it.

Once I force myself to sit on Jhe 'brelle's bed and not stare at the door, I start to calm down.  I don't want to be in that place with that vile thing anyway.  There's no reason to be upset.  It's Jhe 'brelle's lab and he can kick me out if he wants to.  And when I start to cry over it, Millie decides it's time to invade my lap and snuffle her tiny nose up against my face.  So I suppose I start to feel okay again.  No matter what Daddy may say, Shenanigans are terribly useful.

"Jhe Stevane?  Are you not feeling well?"

I look up in surprise at the sound of Jhe h'Leste's voice.  When did he get in here?  Was he here from the start and I didn't notice because I was having a fit?  Did he see all that?  My cheeks flush warm, and I know they must be awful red right now.  "Uh... I'm... I'm okay, Jhe h'Leste--"

"Well you certainly don't sound okay, girl.  Come over here and let me have a look at you."

His voice is coming from around the corner, in Jhe 'brelle's bathing room.  Odd.  "What are you doing in there?"  I stand up, nudging Millie onto my shoulder as I walk to the door.  I lean in, but no one's in the bathroom.  Odd.  I thought I heard--

Millie lets out a squeak of surprise.  I double-take.

Jhe h'Leste is in the mirror.  He's wearing his crown again, too.  "Jhe h'Leste?  Is something the matter?"

He waves a hand.  "There's nothing to concern yourself about me for, Jhe Stevane.  Are you alright?  I heard you crying."

I look away, embarrassed again.  "Just... just me being silly.  I'm over it."  I cock my head.  "Why are you using the mirror?  Can you really do that while talking to Jhe Mitheoni?"

He beams.  "Of course, dear girl.  Come over here for a moment.  I want to show you something."

I raise an eyebrow, and I'm about to reply when I hear his voice over my shoulder.  "No, over here."

I turn, wondering why in blazes Jhe h'Leste would start playing these little games with me.  The voice came from near where I was sitting before.  On the bed there's an envelope, but my King is nowhere to be seen.

Curious.

After picking up the envelope, I begin to open it.  Then I pause.

I step back into the bathroom.

There's nothing in the mirror save for my own reflection.

I step back into the bedroom, sighing.  Sometimes Jhe h'Leste can be a bit showy, can't he?  I look around the room one more time, but there's no one else in here save for Millie and, well, the door.  I sit on the bed and finish ripping open the envelope.  There's a letter inside.  Another letter from Jhe h'Leste today, and yet again it feels as if it's not in the right place in time... like it's late, or early.  A letter from the future, again?  Well, it explains how he could be speaking from the mirror and talking diplomacy in Unkie's office at the same time.  I glance over his precise, swirling script.  Just the marks of his handwriting alone relax my still-raw nerves.

Dearest Stevane,

I don't want you to be shocked when you get the news.  But I can only say so much.  Remember where you made the Shenanigans in the Poet Hall?  If you go there later, you should find the materials you need.  You'll understand soon.  For now, stop picking at my brother's poor bedding with your lovely knife.

Oh dear, I'm such a scatterbrain.  Or rather Crisanto is a reckless vandal!  Maybe I can fix the little rips with Poetry before Jhe 'brelle comes back and thinks I took my anger out on his stuff!

I sigh and read the rest of the letter before panicking over anything else.

Better.  Now, I know you can be calm for me, and I'm very proud of just how mature you can be for a girl of only sixteen years--

Damn it Jhe h'Leste!  I don't care how you count them and I don't care about time leaps, I was born when my sister was born and so I get to be twenty-two just like she does!  I'm older than her!

--and don't get so offended about it, I'm complimenting you, dear.  You are a very mature, level-headed, smart girl.  You are going to be just fine, I promise.

That's where the letter ends.  I stare at it for a few moments, reading the last couple of lines again, committing them to memory.  Then I tuck the letter back into its envelope and slip it into the inside pocket of my jacket.  I wonder what the Jhe h'Leste of the future knows that made him write that?  Maybe he just knows that I'm upset now?  Goodness, the future Jhe h'Leste is going to be even more of a busybody than Jhe h'Lete was!  Perhaps I should warn the current one about that.

"Ah!  There you are, Stevane."

I jump as Jhe h'Leste's voice catches me unawares for the third time in a row.  I look up.  That's him alright, my current Jhe h'Leste.  He seems much more 'here' and 'now' than the reflection I spoke to, or the letter I just read.  He's also noticeably concerned.  "I expected to find you in Ebrelle's laboratory.  Is everything alright in there?"

I sigh.  The second time he asks me if I'm okay... this time I should tell the truth.  "Jhe Kathe and Lute brought back the sample from the Kommissar's laboratory.  It's... different than I expected.  I don't know how, but they found the Kommissar's military fork, and it... it upset me to see it again."  I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.  "So Jhe 'brelle had me return here out of concern for my well-being.  It was... really very thoughtful of him."  I can't keep myself from pouting.  "But now I'll worry about what's going on in there."

"Oh, Stevane."  Jhe h'Leste hugs me, wrapping me in layers of security, calm, and insulated robes.  It's just the same as when I was little and Jhe h'Lete would comfort me.

It's just what I needed.  My head clears, and even my Arms go quiet.

Jhe h'Leste backs away just a tad, then pats the back of the hand that is now holding Crisanto.  "Apparently she's very affectionate, but I'm afraid hugging a knife has less pleasant results than hugging a person."  He makes a face a moment after, then laughs.  "Yes, it would be more pleasant for the knife, but forgive me if I don't oblige you that one, Crisanto."  His eyes meet mine as he smiles with mild amusement.

I tsk, flick my fingernail against the flat of Crisanto's blade, then stow her away.  "Attention hog."  I frown.  "How often do you hear Arms?"

He slides an arm behind my shoulders, guiding me to sit on the bed as we talk.  "Just as often as they speak to me.  They seem quite verbose.  Now, Stevane.  I came here for a reason."  He sits next to me, hand still on my shoulder.

I remember his letter from future times.  'I don't want you to be shocked when you get the news.'  I'm certain that he must be referring to what his present self is about to tell me, so I take heed and steel my nerves.  "I had a feeling about that."

He looks surprised for a moment, but not too surprised.  We are Poets, after all.  "That's good.  I'm glad you're not completely unprepared.  Now, Stevane..." he looks away, and for the first time I see his own personal regrets about whatever this is show through on his face.  "You've done an extremely good job at your current appointment, and we'd love if you were to stay at it indefinitely, but... something unforeseen has happened.  The Gahalespbar-archo has, as Chethar's representative, requested you by name to serve as our Poet ambassador to his Empire.  He thinks quite highly of you for the excellent etiquette and consideration you showed him during his last visit.  I simply can't convince him that anyone else would be more suitable for the appointment, and..." his serious face breaks as he laughs.  "To tell the truth, I'd be lying to him if I did."

Chethar?  I blink, the maps coming up hazy in my mind.  All the way from Chethar, for a diplomat?  I'm a diplomat?  What sort of world am I in where I'm a diplomat?  Am I supposed to be shocked?  I'm far too confused to feel truly shocked.  "I failed Diplomacy seven times.  Possibly eight."

The King pats my arm.  "That also means that you took Diplomacy nine times, Stevane.  It didn't really occur to me until I was forced to consider it, but you might be more knowledgeable about the subject than some of our official diplomats now, simply by dint of repetition."  He rubs his hand over my back, making sure that I'm not tensing up into a panic.  "Most people, you do realize, don't take their first Diplomacy class when they are ten years old?"  He tuts before I can interrupt with an objection.  "I know exactly how old you are at any given time, dear girl.  I know how impressive what you do and have done is.  Don't try to convince me otherwise."

I look down, emotions slumping.  "You're just distracting me from what all of this really means."

"I'm more distracting Ebrelle.  If you panic, he'll notice our conversation via your connection, and then he'll panic before we've prepared him.  I love my brother, but I think you'll handle this a lot better than he will."  Jhe h'Leste sighs.  "You leave tomorrow evening.  We weren't given any time to deal with the consequences of the appointment - Chethar has a tendency towards impatience in these types of international affairs.  And so... I'm sorry Stevane, but can you think of any way to blunt this for Ebrelle?  He was just beginning to shine again."  He's trying to steel his own emotions, but it's obvious how concerned Jhe h'Leste is for his older brother.

"Hm."  I furrow my brow.  "There's another part you're not telling me."

Bald surprise shows on Jhe h'Leste's face.  Before he can think of another evade, I get to the point.

"You're talking about Jhe 'brelle missing me even though his and I's minds are so closely connected that you're trying not to get his attention by letting me get upset.  So when I go to Chethar, his and I's connections are going to be cut for some reason.  Otherwise you wouldn't be nearly as worried for him."  I shrug.  "It's obvious."

"Aha.  You are your Father's daughter."  He looks away, that pained concern showing even moreso.  "It's a difficult decision.  Make my brother cope with a separation from you, or... leave the opening there for an attack.  I suppose if you're thinking so far ahead of me, Stevane, maybe you can tell me yourself just why this connection represents such a vulnerability."

I shudder.  "I know what happened to the last candidate to be Chethar's ambassador.  He still hasn't been recovered.  Whatever they did to him to make him that way, Jhe Edward was happy to exploit his mental connection to Jhe h'Lete and to all Poets.  My connection to Jhe 'brelle has the same potential, or possibly even more potential for harm.  It can't just be assumed that the same thing that happened to Jhe Edward won't happen to me."

All of a sudden, I'm attacked by a giant mass of blankets.  Oh wait, that's just Jhe h'Leste hugging me.  "Thank you, dear girl."

I bite my lip and try not to cry.  Explaining how much danger I'm about to be in hasn't helped my nerves very much.  "So are we going to have better security for me than what Jhe Edward had?"  I consider that.  Jhe Edward wasn't Armed.  That probably left him less liable to keep an eye out for danger.  And it was ten years ago, when everyone wasn't as aware of the dangers out there waiting for Poets.

"These are different circumstances.  We'll see to it that you have protection.  But... nothing is ever guaranteed, Stevane."

I think of the letter in my jacket pocket.  Even if it's from the future, can that still be a guarantee?  "You see to the security, then.  I have to get some things ready now while Jhe 'brelle is distracted in his lab.  When do we cut the connection?  Is that when we tell him what's happening?"  I blink.  "And am I going to get a chance to find out what I'm supposed to do in this new job?  And pack?  Why did they give me less than a day to pack?"

He pats me on the head.  "You are truly your brother's sister, dear."  He rises, then lends me his hand as I stand up.  "Training and a rundown of your duties will be in the morning.  This evening we shall tell him.  Or you may on your own.  I'd prefer to sever the connection after the night passes, so that you can help him sleep through it.  I imagine you'll want some extra time with him anyway."

I bite my lip.  I don't want to think about that.  I don't want to think about how much I'm going to miss him in my mind, how much I'm going to miss everyone here too.  "I'll go get to work.  I'm gonna make something.  Maybe it'll make things better for him.  Seems like it will."  I note Jhe h'Leste's politely confused expression, consider how best to explain, and then just hand him the letter.  "You do a lot of time stuff in the future.  I hope by then I'm around again to make sure you don't turn into a total busybody.  A tip, though, if I may.  The mirror thing was kind of over-the-top."

For some reason, that surprises him so much that he jumps.  "Mirror?"

"Yeah.  Leaving cryptic letters around for your Poets is one thing, but talking to them through mirrors is kind of weird.  I mean, it's useful I'm sure, but if you're going to just leave a letter behind instead of explaining it all yourself..."  I shrug.  "It came across as showing off just for the sake of it.  That's not really like you."  I pause, thinking over the whole episode.  "Though I kinda wonder if I'm supposed to tell you all that.  I guess you need to know ahead of time so that you do it all right, but if I tell you that something wasn't necessary, you obviously still did it because otherwise I wouldn't tell you..."  I shake my head.  "Thinking about your time travel stuff too hard is gonna hurt my brain.  It really did help, though.  The letter.  It made me not panic.  So thank you."

I squeeze his hand.  He skims over the letter, looks up at me with confusion, then scans over it again.  I guess he's still getting used to all of this time travel business himself.  It didn't seem to throw off Jhe h'Lete at all, but I guess Jhe h'Leste is new to it.  "Were you really going to panic that much?" he says, mostly to himself.

"I'm not going to now.  But I'm not made of time like you are, and my day's already been a couple hours longer than I expected, so... I need to get moving!"  Without another glance back at him, I dash out of the door.  I've got something important to make in the Poet Hall.  Now I just need to figure out what exactly it is.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

I watch her leave, in a bit of a stupor as to how well she took the news.  Then again, there is the letter in my hand, which I someday will see fit to write and deliver to her.  That makes me wonder just when it is that I will become so temporally capable... and how I can ensure that it happens as quickly as possible.  The worst thing for a Blue Lord, I suppose, is being stuck in the present and having to wait out the boring parts.  And until I can talk directly to my future self, I'll have no way of knowing how long I'll be waiting.  I glance over the letter again, trying to find possibly some clue in it, some sense of when it shall be written.  Even that, though, is obscured.  As if for some reason the future me doesn't want to give me clues.

So frustrating!

I'm so irritated by that idea that for a moment, I forget the other thing Stevane informed me of.  I walk to my brother's bathroom and look at my reflection there.  My eyebrows draw together and my reflection squints as I scrutinize it and it scrutinizes me.

Why did the alternate Alestere talk to Stevane?  It makes sense for him to give me advice but... going so far as to do so for my own Poets?  I'm competent enough to do my own job!  I sigh.  Perhaps I'm not...  Surely someone else in my role could have thought of a better solution than sending poor Stevane off to Chethar.

I shake my head.  Nonsense.  I'm mostly dealing with the choices Elete made in his office, and with the consequences of a years-long secret war of attrition against mine and 'Sy's forces.  There is no one to blame here, and Stevane is an excellent candidate.  She'll do very well, I'm sure.  It's just my brother that I worry about.  I need to talk with someone about that.  Jhe Valtoryeh is the best choice.  He understands our brother.  And he will, after all, have to sever the connection between Stevane and Ebrelle tomorrow.

Everything is happening so fast.  And Stevane may think I'm made of time, but right now I'm just as present-tense as she is.  It's time for me to get moving as well.

I leave, hazarding one more glance at the mirror before I go, yet again seeing nothing but my own reflection.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

Knowing that I have no time to lose, I immediately detour from my target destination.

It's not something I mean to do, mind you. But when I run past Elric's door, I immediately double-back as if I'm being pulled. Millie claws at my shoulder before falling right off, then gives me a piteous mid-air mewl for flinging her like that, as if I'd do such a thing on purpose.

I pat the mid-air kitten on the head, then knock. Elric? I need to talk to you! It's really important and I don't have much time!

There's a jolt of surprise from Elric's end of the connection. Sweetcake? Is everything okay? You can come in, of course.

I enter, spot him rising from his desk, then catch his hand and tug. Come with me. You've got to help.

Whatever shows on Elric's face is the result of several conflicted emotions, and that's the most I can make out. One thing's obvious, though. He doesn't want to go.

* * *
Elric
* * *

I didn't expect to feel sheer panic the moment Stevane so much as mentioned me leaving this room, but there you are. I can't leave. Are you sure I'm the only one who can help you?

Yes! She tugs. And it's really urgent, Elric, and I meed someone to talk with me and be there and watch what I do and... and... I got sent to Chethar, Elric! Her eyes brim with tears. I leave tomorrow. There's not enough time! I won't even be able to tell everybody goodbye!

My eyes widen. In my shock I stop pulling back. You're getting sent where? That soon? Her? Our little Stevane?

She nods, then bites her lip as she begins to get control of her emotions. I can't panic, either. Jhe 'brelle will pick up on that. So I've got to be calm, and I've got to make something, and he can't notice. Elric, do you know much about Chethar? I know Chessic, and I know history, but... but they want me to be an ambassador!

It takes a few more moments to get a summary of recent events, but it seems that yes, our Stevane is about to go on a very, very long trip. And once her connection to her ward gets pulled, her mind is going to feel very alone. I sympathize with her, and I can comfort her, but... Are you sure I'm the only one who can help you make something? I'm not sure if I should--

"Yes, it has to be you! We don't have enough Readers as it is, let alone someone who can assist on a project of this level." She looks up at me with those shining baby doll eyes. "And I barely got any time with you when you came back, and now I have to go for who knows how long!"

I've got to admit, she's got a knack for wearing somebody down. Still... Stevane, I could hurt a project more than help it, in my state. I'm not well. Think of the damage I can do to whatever it is you're making.

She puts her fists on her hips. "If you don't come with me I'll kick your butt."

I blink. I have to admit, this is not a tactic I anticipated. I'm still trying to collect a counter-argument, or really any sort of reply, when she grabs my hand again and then takes off, daring me to fight her grip. I don't. I follow. I'm not afraid of her, it's just... I've watched Stevane grow up from knee height to chest height. She has always been a strange, impulsive, delightful girl. If she tries to beat me up then I'm not sure what I'd do.

She just used psychological warfare on me, didn't she? I'm almost proud.

Leaving my room feels like being peeled out of it, as if the wallpaper had been plastered directly on me. I suppose I've almost grown roots in there, I've been in that place so long. But once I'm out, it's as if the world rocks with its bigness. Which is silly, I'm just in the hall, after all. I'm just past my own door. But... the hall goes on so far and then... then it connects to other doors and I can go through those doors and--

"Elric? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pull you off your feet! Are you all right?" Stevane kneels in front of me, checking me over, brimming with concern for my well-being. After how she threatened me just a moment before, something slips past my guard, sneaks past all my rigid self-control and defenses.

I laugh.

She looks up at me, almost as shocked as I am, though for a different reason. I wave her concern away. I'm fine. Just a little shaken up. I've cooped myself up since I got here, and before that I lived in a tiny space for years. I must've gotten used to it.

She hugs me, either not noticing or purposefully ignoring the fact that for a moment, I try to dodge the gesture, flinching away. I don't want her to get so close to me after I went so far as to let a sound slip past my lips. It's just a reflex, an instinct of sorts - but making sure Stevane isn't upset with me is its own reflex, and it thankfully won out this time. "I'm sorry. I'll take it a little slower, okay?"

I nod and let her lead. While she does, I can trail behind, lift my fingers to my lips, and check. My heart stills for a moment at the moment of truth, but my fingertips are unmarred. Unstained. Nothing slipped past. The first time I've heard my voice in months, and the first time in years that Nul didn't follow in its wake. Am I healing?

Can that even be possible?

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

My hand is next to the wicked thing, the weapon that drips with the essence of what used to pulse through every bit of my soul. I peer down at the fork unafraid. I've set my wards. I am safe.

Still, I flinch a bit when I touch the thing. It's cold to the touch, much colder than metal should be in a room this temperature. And were I not entirely sure of how I set the containment in this lab, I would never risk such close exposure to that which used to possess me. But I am certain, oh so very certain. This stuff restrained me for years - I have studied it from the inside for long enough to do the exact same to it.

It's retribution, in fact, a fitting one. I also can't deny that it feels good to restrain something again. And not in a wrong way, either. If something ever needed to be bound, it is this thing.

Knowing this, it hisses at me. I can't help but grin in return.

"Are you done teasing that thing?" Katherine's voice is but a murmur, her concentration almost entirely on our other bound subject. If Jhe Lute is not a more willing subject, he is certainly the more quiet one. He hasn't moved since I knocked him out. "I need you to have a look inside his head."

I grimace. I'm more familiar with the Nul weapon. I've gone so far as to look into the heads of Armed from time to time, and inevitably I have not liked what looked back at me from there. "If you insist. But I would much prefer some guidance through such a mind, and I can't guarantee safe passage."

She laughs, a soft, low laugh that sets the hair on my arms on end. "Oh, don't worry about that. I know my way around the inside of an Armed's skull, literally and figuratively. I've got safety covered."

Why... why does that make me nervous?

She continues despite my apprehension. "I need to show you some things in there that you wouldn't normally find on your own... and get your opinion on a couple of oddities that you might have better insight into than anyone else."

"I felt shadows in his mind. I suppose this would be the subject of interest?"

"...You'll see."

I check over the wards on the Kommissar's weapon once more before I give Katherine my full attention. Plenty of living people have met their end by turning their back on that thing. It seems that even with it unmanned, the same thing can still apply.

"Well then. Let's see how much empty space is inside the head of an average Akribastes."

Katherine can't contain a snort in response.

* * *
Elric
* * *

I was nervous about bumping into any other Poets on our way to Stevane's project, but our way is remarkably clear of obstacles and distractions considering which Hall we're in. I realize that by the look of concentration on her face, Stevane is responsible for our stealthy trip. I wonder just what it is that she wants to build that's so very secret, then I pick up from her mind:

--don't need to run into some jabbering idiot who wants to waste my time, barely have enough time now as it is--

Then we're at her destination - one of the Poet Hall's largest workrooms, usually reserved for group works or Jhe h'Logos's pet projects. Stevane touches her fingers to the plaque next to the door as she walks in, reserving the entire chamber for herself and thus guaranteeing no one will walk in and interrupt whatever she's going to do. "I don't need to take up all this space, but it's important to use the same space as what I used before." She smiles to me. "You should have been there for the Shenanigans. I even thought of you while I was making them. I really wanted you to be there."

I pat her shoulder. I wanted to be here too. It's hard not to feel sorrow about that. So many years... I've missed so much.

"It's alright." She grins wide. "You're about to witness something that'll more than make up for it."

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

I watch it happen as if I were there, as if I were occupying Jhe Lute's standpoint at the time. His vision is more focused than mine, fixating on tiny details that I do not notice, movements that escape my attention. He watches the world as if he's a predator... which is not surprising, considering what he is. But in this memory he is five, and it chills me that his youth has absolutely no impact on the previous statement.

Of course, it's not strange that we're in the middle of a memory with not much context. The mind tends to be a very disorganized thing, especially with people untrained in mental disciplines. Random, unattached memories seem to just bump around until they find a reason to be recalled. It makes navigating a stranger's mind difficult at times, but there's a knack to it that one can develop with enough time and experience. I'd say that was enough for our purposes here, but apparently I'm in the mind of someone who was already a serial killer right out of his toddler years.

It's common among Armed. Katherine seems unsurprised by our encounters so far, but she's already poked around in this head a little bit. Let's find an exit in the memory itself. They tend to have a stopping point...

Yes. I nod, though we're both unseen, both looking through the eyes of Jhe Lute's memory. I've been impressed recently with how much experience my daughter already has in these matters. Had things gone differently in earlier years, we'd have collaborated sooner. The rapport right now is welcome, helping compensate for the constant presence of Stevane that I've grown used to. And the task at hand is certainly an adequate distraction from the desire to poke at her state right now. She'll be fine. She's a resilient girl, if emotional. She'll be ready to join our work in person soon enough, I'm sure.

Focus, now.

The memory advances. For a moment, it seems as if young Lute is hunting. He's crawling around on all fours like a savage, hunched down, baring his teeth. I'm reminded of Faun, and then recall that Jhe Lute shares Lyric's maternal parent. He is, in fact, related to animisms through his Haerphitl inheritance. Fine, then. A Faun's-eye-view is perhaps appropriate. Jhe Lute creeps forward, still searching for something. A two-legged tall thing enters his range of vision. He looks up, unafraid. He's found his Father, after all. Jhe h'Akribastes looks down at Lute with paternal adoration that I simply am not accustomed to seeing on his face. It's as if he's looking at me, from this angle, though he'd have no way of knowing it.

The Judge reaches down. I feel panic, but Jhe Lute is ecstatic. The Judge ruffles Jhe Lute's hair with no regard to how much of a mess results - but then, with Jhe Lute I see how that wouldn't be a concern. The boy grins, filled with a contentment and a deep love for his father.

Then his father lifts his other hand and holds up a stick. Before I quite know what to make of it -- my first reaction is to duck away from what I mistake for the Trident -- Jhe Lute jumps up and down, excited beyond belief. The Judge is only encouraged by this, waving the stick about to encourage the commotion. After a few more moments of that, he throws the stick as hard as he can.

Jhe Lute chases after the stick on all fours, happy with his father and happy with the world. He fetches it with his teeth, then brings the stick back and sets it down in front of his father's toes.

The Judge laughs, delighted. "Good boy, Lute! Good boy!" He ruffles his son's hair again just before the memory fades.

Katherine and I stand in Jhe Lute's mind and blink. I shake my head. "I thought it was a memory, but it's not uncommon to walk in on a hallucination when exploring a recently wounded mind."

My daughter seems to have a reply, but takes her time in deciding how to phrase it, or whether to say it at all. "Yeah, um... hallucination. Right. I'm sure you're right."

I raise my eyebrow at my daughter's lack of sincerity, but the last thing I want to do is go poking through Jhe Lute's childhood to see whether I'm right. Especially when I catch a stray thought from her as we journey forward:

Heh. Family dog.

* * *
Alestere
* * *

"Ales!"

I blink as Eistinn grins at me from the door to his and Valtoryeh's suite. I was certainly not expecting that nickname, and my face must say as much.

Eistinn laughs. "That face!  You fake surprise real well." He taps my arm with his fist in an imitation of a punch. "Well, enough joking around, there's been enough of that.  Come on in!" He pauses in the middle of backing away to give me clearance. "Err, that is, you were coming in, right?"

"I had a mind to."

"Good! Come on in!"

I enter, a steady stream of confusion still running through my mind.  I wasn't faking that surprise.  Eistinn never called me Ales before!

As Eistinn closes the door behind me, Valtoryeh looks up from his seat in the main room.  He's nursing a glass of amber liquid, probably brandy.  He eases into a smile, then tips the glass towards me in a mock-toast.  "Such a pleasure to see you again so soon, brother."

I blink.  Soon?  I haven't bumped into Valtoryeh yet today.

Eistinn elbows me.  "Yeah, so what brings you back?  Ready to empty another bottle of Jhe o'Radia's good scotch?  That guy's so generous.  It's touching, I tell ya.  Real touching."  He wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye, the gesture not entirely mockery.  He was, in fact, weeping a tiny bit.  That's when I realize that both of them are quite drunk.  Perhaps that explains things.

Raising my hands I chuckle a bit.  "It seems Jhe o'Radia may have been a bit too generous with the bottles.  This is my first time here this evening."

Identical frowns cross their brows.  Before either can say anything, I realize something is afoot.  Something that I may, in fact, already be able to puzzle out.

Valtoryeh peers at me with the scrutiny of the mildly drunk.  "You're not the same Alestere that was here a few minutes ago.  You're not drunk.  And you're younger."

A wave of frustration washes over me as my suspicions are confirmed.  Once again, my future self has beaten me to my own destination.  "You're half-right."  I gesture for a glass.  "I'm not yet drunk enough."

Eistinn, though confused, is happy to pour me a glass of Luciprochoros's most excellent brandy.

* * *

I sit, glance down at my two-thirds-drained drink, and then wonder where Luciprochoros might keep his wine.  Brandy is nice and all, but wine is alcohol made art.

"We have some racked."  Valtoryeh holds a hand up to Eistinn.  "Brother, can you get Ales a glass of wine?  And then someone will need to relieve him of that troublesome brandy in his hand."  His smile tucks into the corner of his cheek, tiny and wry.  Strange how alcohol almost makes him more focused on a certain level... but as he's yet to rise from his seat, something tells me the balance tips the other way for coordination.  He shrugs at me.  "Sorry for the bit of thought-catching there.  I can't really stop it at a certain point--"

I wave it away.  "No trouble at all.  Less trouble, in fact.  Gets things done."  I let out a heavy sigh, trying to sort out what they told me while I had my try at brandy.  My future self has been here for quite a bit, overlapping the time that he left the letter with Stevane.  Meaning that my future self was here twice at once while I was bumbling through the present.  He decided to go ahead and explain to Valtoryeh the situation with Stevane and Ebrelle.  Saving me the trouble, I suppose.  I suppose I was going to go about it all wrong?  I don't know.  I don't understand why he keeps stepping in and doing things I could be doing, second-guessing me.  He's me, of course.  That's the funny part.  On a certain level I'm doing this to myself, and confusing myself terribly in the process.

Valtoryeh nods.  "Yes, it seems you're in a predicament."

I grimace.  "Are my thoughts that easy to overhear?"

"Yeah, because you're sayin' em out loud, bro."  Eistinn nudges my shoulder, proffering a glass of something pleasant and red.  "Trade?"

I hand him the brandy and take my wine with pleasure.  If I'm already talking out loud on accident, I obviously need it.  Or perhaps I don't, but I won't argue with myself right now.  There's already enough of my selves going around.

"So.  As I told your future self, whatever time he hails from, I'm concerned that Jhe Stevane and Ebrelle haven't had a connection long enough for it to be ripped away at this stage.  But apparently 'Sy's daughter is seeing to dull the loss of it, so perhaps... well, there's hope, I suppose."  He shakes his head.  "I'd refuse if I didn't know how little point there is to arguing with Chethar.  The girl has to leave tomorrow and there's nothing to be done for it."  He sighs.  "Ebrelle's going to be devastated no matter what manner of creature she manages to give him, you know."

I nod.  "We'll be there to support him."

Valtoryeh looks down into his glass.  "We'd better.  We'll be there to rip him apart.  Tomorrow morning, after the last good sleep he'll likely have in a while."  He holds out his glass to me, then turns it towards Eistinn.  "So, to that.  A toast, or just a refill?"

Eistinn fetches the current bottle of scotch while I decide to revisit my wine.  I study the reflections in the glass, thinking back to my future self... and mirrors.  "I was here in person, right?  Drinking and all?"

"Yup, just as future tense as you could be."  Eistinn smiles.  "You were a bit more cheerful about things, though.  Maybe your future self is worried that you're too downcast, so he delivered the bad news for you!"

My brow wrinkles.  I lift my chin up.  "I don't need to be babysat, least of all by my own self.  He's such a..."  I wave my non-wine hand, trying to find the word with my fingers.  "He's such a... a showoff!  He's so pretentious about it, just flaunting what he can do when he knows damn well that I can't!  I can't move through time like he does, can't talk to my future selves or past selves anymore and... and why?  I feel so useless!"

Eistinn pats my shoulder.  "Hey now.  Ales wasn't useless."

I cock my head.  "What do you mean?"

"We were in Ales, in the back of your mind while you were Ales.  He didn't do any of that future-talking, time-travelling mess.  Near as I can tell, that was all Elete.  So I guess your future self is Elete and you, right now, my dear brother, are Ales."  He clinks our glasses together.  "So let's drink to that, eh?"

I frown.  "What you just said doesn't make any sense."

"Let's drink to that."

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

An excellent tracker, Katherine wastes no time as she leads me to what she was looking for in Jhe Lute's mind. I'm impressed that she can navigate her way through this drab place. It's not that his thoughts and memories are boring. He keeps clean, orderly track of them, though, and though he hides razors in his mind, they're well out of site to the casual observer. I stay on edge. This is a false sense of security. Without Katherine in here with me, things would be different. I follow her into an open part of his Jhe Lute's mind, well-lit and near the core of his thoughts. She stops, then grabs me by the arm before I can continue without her.

"Don't go in any further. Just wait here."

Katherine strides forward. I convince myself to relax. She disappears a moment afterwards. Left alone, I feel Jhe Lute's mind shift an overwhelming amount of scrutiny onto me. I stand up straight and bear up under it, willing my daughter to finish her task, or at least to come back. I don't want to test the state of my mental combat strengths just yet.

"Heh. You're not so big in person." The voice is subtle and quiet, like the feeling of a hand sliding around the back of my neck. It is also male, and it is not Jhe Lute's, which leads me to wonder just who else could be here in his mind with Katherine and I. I could turn around and find out, as the speaker is behind me - but I have the strangest feeling that I should stay stock-still. That feeling might be that self-preservation thing that Alestere and Jhe Stevane keep insisting I must have been born without. As if either of them can talk.

How silly. I'm perfectly alive right now. I'm also being sniffed. Breath puffs past my hair as the person gets a good whiff of the back of my neck. I recall Jhe Lute's animalistic tendencies, especially that odd hallucination of him playing fetch like a dog. But that wasn't his voice. This isn't Lute.

He gives me one last whiff, then snorts in satisfaction. Then I'm alone. I can't describe exactly how I know that, but there's an eerie stillness in the room that replaces the previous eerie not-so-stillness. I have a good head for these things, a rather honed sense for energy, for power, for the presence of danger, for the sensation of being leapt upon and then tackled to the floor.

Perhaps I was not so alone. I wager a glance over my shoulder, and am rewarded for my trouble by being flipped over onto my back while a white-haired naked freak of a boy sits on top of my chest. He grins, the expression as dopey as it is vicious. He then leans down and licks me from chin to cheek. Perhaps the strangest thing about him is that his breath has a hint of metal on it.

No, the strangest thing is that I haven't defended myself yet, haven't even tried the slightest attempt to take this strange creature down, as if there were something about his very nature that frightened me. Terror leaps through my chest for one split-second before the boy's hand follows it, tearing through my skin and into my heart--

I gasp awake and scream. I've left Jhe Lute's mind. Rather, I've been evicted in a particularly blunt manner. My chest is pounding as my heart reminds itself that it is still intact.

Nul. Nul was the only thing that would freeze me solid like that--

"Daddy? I'm sorry." Katherine's voice is hushed as she approaches me, her eyes wide and her face pale. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have left you there alone."

"Katherine... Katherine, that thing was--"

"You're okay. He could have killed you, but he didn't. He's honorable. He's just... got his moods." She sighs.

My brows draw together in confusion. I thought I'd seen some sort of Nul creature in there, but Katherine seems to know whoever it was. "Who was that?"

"Kuroroi." She scowls. "He said to bring you in so he could talk to you himself. He promised he'd be nice."

"I was nice. He's alive."

I blink, then look down at Jhe Lute's body, still unconscious on the table. He spoke with the creature's voice just now. Kuroroi? Who is Kuroroi? Katherine mentioned him earlier, didn't she? But she was talking about Jhe Lute's Arms.

Chills run through my entire body as I remember the hint of metal on Kuroroi's breath. Of course. The Law frightens me almost as deeply as Nul does. Of course Jhe Lute's Arms would be lurking in his mind, watching Katherine and I. Why ask me in and then attack me? But of course, I am the animal trainer. I know a display of dominance when I see one. I understand these dances. Best of all I kept myself alive during one, even if I didn't take any steps of my own. "An honor to make your acquaintance, Jhe Kuroroi. To what do I owe such a pleasure?"

"So you'll know." Jhe Lute's eyes are still closed, his face passive and unexpressive as Kuroroi speaks through him. "You'll recognize me. You'll recognize what I am not."

Katherine's eyes widen. "Why is that important, Kuroroi?"

"Because I saw what happened to my comrade Schiphael, and I know I'm not alone in here."

"In the lab?" I frown. Even so, the Kommissar's military fork is well-warded--

"In my Armed. Something else is has been in here ever since my Armed held that black weapon. Tell Diyn. I'll stay in here and fight."

Katherine grips the table as if she's going to mangle it with her bare hands. "I let him... hold that thing..."

I merely scrutinize the boy on the table under me, and contemplate. A living, infested sample. A proven vector of contamination. Something to investigate. Arms that didn't kill me. All very interesting, and all very strange.

"Thank you. I will do what I can to purge your Armed of that thing." I reach out and nudge Katherine on the shoulder. "Out of it, girl. We've got work to do. And a new rule."

She looks at me, eyes still wide, her face a battleground for emotional control. "What? What now?"

"No one touches that thing you brought into my lab. Jhe Lute was kind enough to protect you from it. We will now endeavor to repay that kindness."

* * *
Elric
* * *

Whatever she's making, it's very... tiny.  I'm a little surprised.  She's making a pet for a very large man, after all, a man known to control animals and more.

And then I see, in the swirls of ink and energy, the answer to my question.  Jhe o'Audiva Rocale was known for taming the strongest beast, the tiniest fly.  Shape and size would be of no matter to him, should he decide to collar it--

Her.

Stevane corrects me one tiny moment, then becomes reabsorbed in her work.  She knows her ward still has the power to subvert, to break.  She's even seen the desire to do so alive and well in him.  Relying only on his restraint is not an option in her eyes.  As a point of pride for Jhe Ebrelle, she must make a creature that can resist on her own.  Should the former Emperor decide that he wanted to collar this precious little wisp of energy, only willpower could stop him.  And so willpower is condensed in every muscle, bone, hair and whisker of this tiny little...

Little kitten?  I can see the razor-sharp claws, the tiny, prickly teeth first, then a flash of brilliant blue eyes, luminous with intelligence.  Eyes almost bigger than the little thing's head.  Yes, kitten, there can be no doubt.  At first I thought she would be another Shenanigan.

Jhe 'brelle won't believe in a Shenanigan.

Tiny chocolate paws, a matching tail, and then the kitten yawns, muzzle and ears chocolate around a tiny pink tongue.  The rest is the color of sand... as much as the rest amounts to.  In the end, she is barely a handful, just a few weeks old.  She isn't even past weaning age.

He'll have to feed her with a bottle.  He won't have much time to think about me, she'll make sure of it.  She'll be more than a handful, despite appearances.

Stevane's thoughts are hushed and quick as she makes the finishing touches.  All in all, it didn't take as long as I thought it would.

That's because you're a fine Reader.   She places the tiny sleeping thing into a towel-lined box.  She'll wake when he touches her.  Come on.  I'm tired.  She shakes her head, blinking her heavy lids.  "Let's go get some sleep."  She picks up the box with extreme care, then walks out of the workroom.  I follow.  I'm just as weary as she is.  It takes a lot of work, watching and willing something into existence.

I've missed it.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

Katherine and I are of the same mind when it comes to sleep: we'll get to it after the current task is finished with. We're both prepared to work all night if we have to, to skip sleeping at all if it's necessary. At least, Katherine is. At a certain point, I can't hide the fact that my vision is blurring from fatigue. Of course, ensuring that I'm able to see while I'm working is just a silly safety precaution. That impediment, I can ignore. Stevane is less avoidable.

She and I managed to stay out of each other's heads for hours. Not only that, but Stevane's emotional reaction to being ejected from the lab didn't last very long, or she managed to shield it from me after some time spent focusing. She's really can be quite professional about her temper if she applies herself. But right now she is tired, and worse yet she is reminding me that I am tired.

I really can manage just fine, Jhe Stevane.

You've got your fingers in my brother's brain while you're yawning your face off.

I bite my lip. She's right. This brainmeat is getting sticky.

Wait, you don't really-- I was just joking, right? Stevane's voice spikes into panic. She tries to see through my eyes to verify whether I'm literally poking around the inside of Jhe Lute's skull. Of course, that makes my vision blur even more - worse, it goes double.

I can't sleep until he's properly secured. I have to put his brain back in his skull, after all. Give me a moment.

The impression of a pout flutters past me. You're just joking. You're not doing any brain things. Frankly, she sounds disappointed. She quiets though, freeing me up to confer with my daughter about the status of our patient.

“I don't see how we can leave him like this.” She gestures down to the table where Jhe Lute still resides, still unconscious, and still infected with Nul. We've managed to catch the barest hints of it lurking about his mind, but there's nothing solid to seize on. “What about when he wakes up in this place, alone? Who knows what he'll do? Someone needs to stay with him.”

I swear she gets her stubborn nature from her other father, because there's no way that I could be so intractable. She's been arguing this point with me for the last ten minutes. Standing there glaring up at me, fists clenched at her sides, eyes piercing mine... yes, the very picture of Luciprochoros at his most difficult. No matter. I've won my share of arguments with him. “You're not staying in here alone.”

She lifts her chin higher. “I won't be alone, Daddy. I'll be with him. That's the point.”

I sigh, splaying my fingers across my forehead. “That is entirely not what I meant, and you know it. I don't care how much rank you have or what argument you make. You're not watching him alone.” After a moment of pressure from Stevane's silent end of this conversation, I add: “Go find someone. Someone acceptable. Someone who won't do something foolish.”

After a pause to mull that over, she nods. “Alright.” She turns and begins to walk away, steps purposeful. “I'll go get Jhe h'Logos.”

I frown. I'm doubtful that my brother fits the last part of my very specifically stated requirements. I don't stop Katherine, though. She's conceding to stay here with someone, and that in itself is a blessing. I'm probably giving my brother too little credit. He has a sound mind... when he uses it. I bat away another of Stevane's nudges. “Soon, soon. She's fetching a sleepover friend.”

For the life of me, I can't discern why Stevane finds that last sentence so funny.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I find Alestere in his quarters.  He looks exhausted, and by the flush in his cheeks he's had more than a little bit of wine.  But when I ask for help, he's quick to rise (and only wobbles the tiniest bit).

I frown as I place my hand at the crook of his elbow.  "Are you okay?"  I mistook his condition as the effects of alcohol and simple fatigue, but underneath his exterior I can sense lingering worry and turmoil.

"Well, that's a matter of opinion."  He waves the question away.  "I'm fine, simply a bit overwhelmed by the events of the day.  Other people than myself are more worth your concern."

My fingers clutch tighter.  "You're worth worrying over."

He smiles down at me.  "I am touched that you say so, Katherine.  Tell me... for what am I needed?"

I explain to him the situation in Father's laboratory.  He grows more and more quiet as I go on, waiting to take in the whole situation before raising his fingers to his chin in contemplation.

"And how do you want me to help?  Or do you truly just want to have me there with you while you watch over 'Sy's son?"

I frown.  I don't like this line of questioning.  For a lot of reasons, I'd prefer to just try out my theories without any explanation beforehand.  "I... do have some ideas I'd like to explore.  Can we go?  I don't want Father up for too much longer.  He looked very tired."

"Ah, yes.  Your Father.  Yes, he should get his due amount of rest tonight... while he can."  I'm about to ask Alestere just what he means by that, but then he goes on without me needing to prompt him.  "I should tell you before we're in his lab, where he might overhear before I have a chance to break it to him properly."  He closes his eyes, betraying the full extent of that weariness from before.  "He won't have Stevane around after tonight.  The Gahalespbar-Archo arrived today.  Emperor Theos has requested that a Poet be sent to Chethar for diplomatic and communicative functions, and... well, apparently Stevane made a very good impression on Jhe Mitheoni when last he visited.  Your other Father and I were unable to find any alternative."

I blink.  Is this shock, or the dawning of lunacy?  Stevane, a diplomat?  Going to Chethar?  "...'Sy's going to shit fire when he finds out."  As it is, I'm a bit angry.  Our Stevane?  She's being useful over here.  She's helping out Daddy!  "Mitheoni likes me.  Maybe I can get him to change his mind."

Alestere sighs.  "If you do, I've no one suitable to send in her place."  He opens his eyes and looks into mine.  "If I thought there was an alternative, I would have asked for your help sooner.  The truth is that we really have no one else to send in her place."  He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, yawns, then shakes his head.  "I've spent a long time trying to think of another way, and then I spent longer discussing with Jhe Valtoryeh how best to ease Ebrelle into the transition."

My brow furrows.  I can't look him in the eye.  I'm... I'm just so angry.  Why now, right when Father was beginning to improve?

He pats me on the shoulder, nudging me out of my smoldering contemplation.  "Come.  Let's give your Father some rest, shall we?  Tonight, at least, he'll have his peace.  If she's told him to sleep, that means Stevane has finished whatever she intended to make for your Father to tide him over in her absence.  Have some hope."

I try, but there's something about this that makes me sulk more and more.  Something nagging in the back of my mind.

'Sy.  I've been trying not to think about him, especially with Alestere and I becoming so close.  But just now I actually wished for him to come back.  Could he fix this?  I don't think so, but he at least deserves to know about it.  "What are you going to do when 'Sy comes back?"

Alestere pales.  This is a rare moment.  He's speechless.

* * *

Father tsks when we walk in.  "Really now, Alestere?  One might begin to think that you fancy wine too much."

Alestere waves away my father's teasing.  "It has gotten around to me that you don't fancy sleep enough.  I can see that the lack of it is hampering your observation skills."  He steps further into the laboratory area.  "I must commend your work ethic, though.  All this already..."

"Yes, yes.  Put your finger in here."  Father brandishes the wrench, then waits.  After a few moments, he tires of waiting.  "To think that my own brother doesn't trust me."  He puts on an expression of sorrow that is all front.  At least, I'm pretty sure it isn't genuine.

It's enough for Alestere to grow weary of teasing Father back, though.  He holds his hand out.  "I suppose things are different now than when I was eight?"

Father pauses on the way to touching the wrench against Alestere's finger.  "...It's much different this time.  I was just a lad.  There was no permanent damage, and I think we all learned something that day."

"Such as 'don't put your finger where Ebrelle tells you to?'"  Alestere mutters the retort softly, but there's no bitterness in his voice.  If anything, I can hear an undercurrent of amusement.  "As long as I don't end up a birdfeeder this time around."

In reply to the wave of confusion that emanates from me, Alestere provides me with a mental image of his very young self still as a statue, holding a large bowl full of seeds, as my Father marveled at how many birds he attracted.  I try not to laugh.

In the present, my Father manages to tune the wrench to Alestere's energy without any further argument.  He nods to both of us.  "Katherine can lead you to the boy.  I... shall retire for the night.  Please, no foolishness in the lab."  He exits, tired but in good cheer.

I wince.  I'm going to miss seeing him happy.  "Are you sure she can't--"

Alestere puts his finger to my lips, then twitches an eyebrow.  This isn't a good place to discuss this matter.  I sigh, then take his hand by the wrist and brush a kiss against his fingertip.  He tucks his hands inside his sleeves, then shakes his head the tiniest bit.

This isn't a good place for many things.

* * *

We stand in the containment area where Lute and the fork both sleep.  Alestere frowns at them both.  "I do understand the reasoning behind bringing that here, if you meant to keep the wrong people from finding it and using it against us again.  But does my brother truly think he'll experiment on it?"

I can't quite meet his eyes.  "We already have, in a sense.  Just keeping it walled off required some work on Father's part.  I trust him with it.  Once he took command of the situation, the weapon was secure."  I sigh, then brush my fingers over Lute's forehead.  "This is going to take more work, though.  And I thought you could help me with that, if you still remember."

Alestere blinks.  His shoulders tense, something I see happen a lot when either of his pasts are poked at.  "Remember what?"

My reply isn't in words, but in a lack of language that isn't made up of what one could ever call words.  It isn't just the absence of speech - it is the destruction of it.  Nul-dehle.

Jhe h'Logos goes pale as a sheet, then claps his hand over my mouth.  "Dear, never do that to your tongue lightly.  Never."  He frowns, his brows drawing together in something that's almost anger.  "Not to merely prove a point, of all things.  What do you intend to do?"

I remove his hand from my mouth for the second time tonight.  "What I must.  It almost healed Father, you know, when Nul had him.  If I'd known the extent of his damage then, perhaps I could have done more.  But Lute's barely had time to become infected, and with you here to watch, I could command it out of him--"  I break off, watching Alestere's face... and then following his gaze.

The chamber feels colder, number.  A tremor goes through the floor.

"He may have left, but part of your Father is still very much in this place, Katherine.  He remembers that language well.  He'll never forget the sound of it, I don't doubt."  Alestere doesn't have to say more than that.  I can come to the conclusion myself.

There's absolutely no way I can speak Nul-dehle in here without risking Father's newfound stability.  I close my eyes.  I try to tell myself it'll be okay.  I feel Alestere's fingers curl around mine, then squeeze mine.  I squeeze back.  The support is enough to keep me from panicking, but there's only one way now, only one thing I can think of.  Kuroroi already asked for Diyn.  As Advocate, I could do so much here.  But try as I might, I can't imagine doing that alongside Alestere.  I need 'Sy here.

We have to wait.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

I take in the familiar feeling of a rocking ship and an open sea.  "It's always pirates with you, girl."

Stevane ignores me as she charges forward, cutlass in hand.  A storm is raging, and brigands are all about, swashbuckling and cutting things and in general causing far too much trouble.  I feel as if I'm the eye of the storm - the chaos churns all around me, but I am calm, and none of it touches me.

I miss him I miss him so much--

An undercurrent to her thoughts.  Interesting.  Perhaps the day was too much for her.  Stevane's dreams are usually adventurous and busy, not full of turmoil like this.  "Are you okay?  Did something happen?"

--Miss him so much and I'll never see--  She cuts through the arm of a pirate in front of her, gritting her teeth as the cutlass meets bone.  Bllood sprays up in her wake.  I flinch.  So heated of a battle.  Nothing like the merry little kitten-cannons from before.

I reach out to her, but it's as if I can't touch her.  I'm just an observer here, and we don't truly intersect.  I can only bear witness to her inner conflict.  It's difficult to discern the source of it, though.  She's upset by a separation, or perhaps an upcoming one.  Is one of the Poets being sent off to a far-away post?  Perhaps one of her siblings?

--never going to see Myles ever again--

She pirouettes in a flash of sliver and red, a haphazard dance between steel and the parts of people that prefer to stay inside of them.  I watch her and I understand.  I always try not to ask, and she always tries not to say anything.  I understand why some people keep their loved ones safe, deep inside their hearts, where no one can see.  Certainly I've done the same.

"Here."  I loop an arm over her shoulders, and as I concentrate I hold her close.  This time she does not pass through me.  I've willed myself into her mind a little further, and squeezed past whatever block she was trying to put in my way.  "Just cry, girl.  No one can see you here."  These brigands are just figments of her imagination, after all.  Already they're beginning to fade.

She holds her sword up for a few moments, frozen still.  I wonder if she'll try to cut me with it - a calm sort of curiosity, the kind you feel when you trust a person implicitly and know that there's no reason to actually worry.  She wouldn't hurt me.  Never.  When she drops her sword, it's not because I make her do it.  It's because I'm right.  She leans back against me, then curls so her face is pressed against my arm.  Whatever tears come of it stay between us as the sea calms.

The stars come out as the stormclouds draw away.  The rest of the night passes in peace.

* * *

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I get out of bed in the morning, make myself up, get dressed, and make my way towards the door, all while Jhe 'brelle's mind hovers about mine like a moth around a lantern.  His thoughts flutter against mine all the while, making it difficult to focus, difficult to hide things I'm not supposed to tell yet.  It's my fault.  I got all worked up last night, and now he's worried about me.

I'd been able to control my anxieties about Myles so well up until now!  I never keep him in the front of my mind, never dote on him... never draw attention to him.  But with yesterday's news... well, it's true.  I'm going to miss him so much, and I never know when I'm going to--

Stevane, what's wrong?

Curse me, he picked up on that.  He picks up on everything when he pays enough attention.  Can you give me a moment alone?  I'll tell you when we have breakfast.  But I just need a private moment--

Alright.  And without any argument, he stops hovering and stops watching me.

I have a chance to check on the box in my room.  She's still sleeping inside, curled up in a tiny pale ball.  My present to him.  I can't resist reaching down and tugging on her tiny tail, poking at her perfect little paws.  I love kittens!  I'm so sad I won't see this one grow to a more convenient size.  But she had to start small.

I can't waste what little time left I had.  My quill scratches against parchment as I scribe a letter to Jhe Katherine.  I slip it inside the box, then pick up the whole package.  Thanks for waiting.  I'm coming now.

* * *

The thing about Jhe 'brelle knowing that something's up already is that when I walk into his room, I'm under a lot more scrutiny than usual.  And when I walk into his room carrying a box, said box draws his attention more than if today were just any other day.  I put the box on a table, rest my hand on it, and smile up at him.  He's standing in front of a mirror, having already gotten himself dressed for the day.  It's just a matter of getting his hair together, which is always quite the chore, and one he's never managed to do himself.

I walk to him and take the brush from his hand.  "Here, let me."  I fall into the automatic motions of brushing his hair, the old routine its own comfort.

He looks at the box in the mirror's reflection.  "What did you bring in?"

"Something for Jhe Katherine.  Here, I can't reach the top of your head like this."  I scoot a chair over, then stand on top of it.  I brush my fingers through the white curtain of hair.  "The waves are kind of cute.  Did you braid the whole thing yourself last night?"

He clucks his tongue.  "I prefer it straight.  Could you pull it back a bit more today, please?  It gets caught so easily in the laboratory."

I giggle.  "I wondered one day if you'd ever do anything practical with this mess."  I look over the rest of him.  Plainer robes than usual, more serviceable with less trim to snag and more pockets for convenience.  It's been interesting watching his transformation recently.  He's so much stronger than when I first was appointed as his aide.  I set to pinning his hair back in a way that's more functional than decorative, yet still has those few artful touches that I know he loves.  I try to lose myself in that, and not think about anything else.  But he can see my face in the mirror, and he can feel my mind right there.

He lifts his hand, then catches one of mine before it can adjust a pin.  "Tell me."  His voice is calm, even.  He sounds prepared.

I bite my lip.  "I don't want to upset you before breakfast."  That's enough to chip away at his calm, isn't it?  I need to stop being so ominous.  But I don't want to tell him.  I just don't want to, even though I know that won't stop what happens today.

"Why would I be upset?"  I listen for a strain in his voice, for a catch of breath in his chest, for any number of things that will give away how calm he really isn't.

I don't want to look too deep into his mind, or he'll be able to see in mine just what's going on.  And, well, that's my mistake - once he catches that thought, he turns the scrutiny right back around to me.  The mental probe catches me by surprise.  I'm so close to him, my fingers knotted up in his hair, my head right next to his.  He squeezes the hand he's caught, then reaches up and touches my temple with his other hand.

He blinks.  He laughs, a weird, choked hiccup of a sound.  He releases my hand and my hair, then glares at me through the mirror.  "What's really wrong?  What's in your mind just can't be true.  They wouldn't allow you to go to Chethar.  Certainly Luciprochoros wouldn't, but if he were fool enough to think he could, Alestere would certainly stop him."

I place both of my hands on top of his head to keep my balance.  I didn't know how he'd react, but this wasn't what I expected.  "It's the truth.  Jhe h'Leste didn't want it this way but he can't find anyone else--"

"That just isn't true.  It can't be."  He walks away from me.  I catch myself against the wall before I fall off of the chair from the shift in balance.  Meanwhile, Jhe 'brelle faces down the laboratory door.  He doesn't call for his brother aloud, but I can hear the summons over our link.  After a few moments of glaring, he throws up his hands.  "Tch!"  What do you mean you can't-- Ah.  Yes, you're watching the boy.  Of course I can talk to you from here.  She's telling me that she's going to Chethar, brother, and it's simply preposterous that you'd let this--

Jhe h'Leste strides through the door in a rare disheveled state.  He must have just woken up.  He and Jhe Katherine were probably watching my brother in shifts.  Speaking of which, this means he's left Katherine to attend to my brother alone.  At Jhe 'brelle's reproving expression, Jhe h'Leste holds up a hand.  "Katherine will not do anything rash in my absence.  We had a talk last night.  No worries there.  Now... as for the matter of your question regarding Stevane."  My King nods to me, a gesture bestowing a bit of a compliment to me.  Then he takes Jhe 'brelle's hand, as if to calm him.  "She would not lie to you.  I cannot deny anything she's told you about Chethar.  Their delegate thinks highly of her, and we must do what is--"

"Send her to those powermad Chetharians with their totalitarian ideas of who should run our own countries and direct our own people?  Who dared order me when I was Emperor?  Preposterous.  You must have a fever.  Perhaps caught it from Luciprochoros, or--"  He shuts his mouth.  Jhe h'Leste is squeezing his hands so hard that I feel it myself.

He takes advantage of Jhe 'brelle's silence.  "Brother, you mean well, I know you do.  But there is no good in carrying on in front of her like this.  She must go, and she must go today.  She has little time here and there is much she could still do with it."  Jhe h'Leste's face is angry, serious, or both.  It's strange to see him in no good cheer at all.

Jhe 'brelle, on the other hand, is increasingly desperate.  "But she can't, brother, not her, she'll die over there, she'll drown in the sea, she'll be attacked, she just-- she can't leave, Alestere!  I forbid it!"  If there weren't such a note of desperation in his voice, he would have sounded very commanding just now.

"You can't do that."  I ball my fists up.  "You can't tell anyone where I'm supposed to go and you know that, so stop it.  Chethar may be unfair and unreasonable, but you don't have to be and it pains me to see you like that."

Jhe 'brelle pouts.  "You're using guilt tactics on me."

"I'm my Father's daughter.  Jhe h'Leste is right.  We don't have a lot of time, and we..."  I close my eyes for a moment, settling my nerves.  "We have to do something before I leave, or both of us could be in a lot of danger."  I look to my King.  "We should do it here.  He's most comfortable in here."

"Do what?"

Jhe h'Leste nods, his face solemn.  "Agreed.  Jhe Valtoryeh will come soon.  It was suggested that you both eat first--"

"With all due respect, Jhe h'Leste, I couldn't keep a breakfast down in this state.  Maybe some tea.  I'd say the same for Jhe 'brelle, it's easy enough to sense that from my end of things."  Easy enough for now, but not for very much longer.  I swallow down a lump in my throat.  I wanted this to go more gracefully, to not be such a fuss.  I can't imagine how that would have been possible, though.  Jhe 'brelle is the person he is.  What he cares about, he cares deeply about, and fights for in ways that can get downright awful.  It's... kind of touching.

Jhe 'brelle clears his throat, ever more indignant at how little anyone has heeded him this morning.  "I said, do what?"

* * *

Jhe 'brelle is... well, I can't in good conscience call him asleep.  It's almost comical to see Jhe Valtoryeh raise his hand to Jhe 'brelle's forehead, poke him with an index finger, and send him sighing into his bed with not even a hint of struggle.

I blink, watching wisps of white hair drift down around Jhe 'brelle's peaceful form.  "Teach me that trick."

Jhe Valtoryeh's eyes narrow.  "This isn't a time for jokes, young lady."

"That's fine.  I'm not joking."

Jhe h'Leste pats my shoulder.  I'm distracted before I can ask Jhe Valtoryeh more about how I can learn to do the most useful thing I've seen anyone ever do.  "We need you to lie beside him.  Jhe Valtoryeh felt it might be less abrupt that way."  He helps me into the bed.  It's awkward, climbing in while trying not to get caught in Jhe 'brelle's hair, or even worse, snap a stray strand.  While I'm trying to find some room, my hand brushes up against the stray clump of shorter hair that he always tries to hide.

I can't help but smile.  It's grown a couple of inches, at least... but it'll take forever to grow out.  It'll probably still not even be halfway there by the time I make it back to Radia.  I pat the stray strand, then lie on the area of the sheets that Jhe h'leste manages to clear off for me.

"Now," he says as he places his palm over my forehead.  I don't hear what he says after that.  I'm asleep.

Time passes strangely in sleep, especially this sleep, where it's so much darker than my dreams.  So much quieter.  Then the stars begin to fade in from above.  I realize I'm looking out of the mouth of a cave.  Beside me, Jhe 'brelle sits, his arm wrapped tight around my shoulders.  A sea spreads out below the stars, and below us, a tiny cliff becomes a beach.  There is a sliver of a moon to light all of this by.

"I won't let you go.  They won't take you if I don't let you go."

I pat his knuckles.  "It's nice of you to say that, but I'd like to not start a war."

Jhe 'brelle shrugs, not quite managing a snort.  "I've started a few wars.  It's not difficult, and more than survivable.  Almost its own pasttime."  There's no steel to his words, no real will behind them, and I realize that part of him has already given up.  Something about that feels wrong, but I can't quite place it.  No, not just wrong.  Familiar.  That wretched hopelessness...

I glare at him.  "Don't you dare blame this on yourself.  You're better than that, and if I have to I'll light you on fire every morning from the prow of Jhe Mitheoni's ship to prove it."

He frowns, brows peaking in honest confusion.  "How does that prove anything?"

"If you're worth that much immolation then you're worth a whole lot of things.  Lighting things on fire is hard work, you know, especially from far off.  I'll do it, too, if Jhe h'Leste tells me you're fading off again.  I can write from the ship, and he can write back to me.  You've got important things to do.  You've got my brother to help.  You can't just hide in this cave."

He chuckles.  "That's so like you.  Beating me into submission to make me stop rolling over.  Do you know how little sense that makes?"  His eye twinkles in a way I've never seen before.  "Or perhaps you do understand the odd sense of it, and we've got more in common than I thought."

I lean away from him, puzzling that over.  "I don't quite understand you."

He looks at me for a moment, studying me in some way I'm not familiar with.  "No," he whispers, "perhaps you don't.  That's alright, really.  It's preferable."

I shift a little under his arm.  He slips it off of my shoulders, then pats my hand.  I wrap my arms around myself.  There's a chill here, without him so close.  Or maybe it's a chill from something else.  I'm beginning to feel numb.  "I don't understand a lot of things."

"There are so many things in this world that I could have gone without understanding.  I wish you ignorance of them."  He takes my hand, then pulls it into his lap, fingers idly plucking at mine.  "Let me tell you a story.  Once, a long time ago, my baby brother and I visited the sea.  It was so early in his life that he may not remember it.  He'd just recently gained his legs.  As for me, I was beginning to learn just who in the manor would obey my commands, and this was the first carriage ride I'd managed to commandeer.  Mother, as it turns out, didn't entirely object to me plying my skills so early.  She minded the defiance... but did not punish it overly much, not then.  I was young, and she kept me on a lead so long that I didn't even notice it was there.  And on that day, at that ocean, I felt untethered, and Alestere seemed the happiest I'd ever seen him."  Jhe 'brelle smiles as he looks out on the ocean, his eyes glittering with remembrance.  It's so rare to hear stories of his past... especially rare to ever see him mention his Mother in so idle a tone.  "It was a dull day, a peaceful one, and a great one.  Alestere found a cave, I introduced myself to several nymphs in succession, and nothing bad happened at all, other than Alestere discovering what sunburn was."

I look around us, considering what these surroundings might look like during the day.  I could imagine a small boy exploring this little cave.  I can almost see it in Jhe 'brelle's memory, but not quite.  There's a haze in front of it, as if my connection isn't direct anymore.  I try not to think about that any longer, and let what happens happen.  Jhe 'brelle, thank all the spirits of all the oceans, looks content.  "It is a lovely cave."

"We all need our caves.  Before you, Jhe Stevane, I had no caves left.  I couldn't dredge that memory up, even."  He shakes his head.  "Too much guilt over Alestere.  But it's healed, and I've healed, and it's a credit to you."

He lets go of my hand.  I'm having trouble seeing him now.  I try not to fret.  After all of this, I shouldn't be the one throwing a tantrum.  But I've gotten used to that voice in my head, that smug tone in the back of my mind, and I can't help missing him even as he's fading.  "I'm glad I could help you."

"I am too.  I'm glad I didn't hurt you."  He pulls his knees up to his chest, looks out over the sea, and then he's gone.

I curl up in my lonely mind and curse him for a liar.