* * *
Cade
* * *

I ignore the weepy head-case in the special padded cell down the hall. He's making enough ruckus to keep anyone distracted from me, bless his crazy buzzard brain. Not much of anyone notices me. Not when I don't want them to. And my master, he's calling me home now. I feel the pull, feel him beckoning. All should be forgiven. I've kept my sad skin alive long enough to serve another day, after all. Who should care if I've fraternized with the Radians? Let the Peacekeeper and the Advocate think I'm turning tattle on my master. I'm the only one who can be Nul's Herald, and it looks like that hasn't gone forgotten.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I awake with my thoughts completely scrambled, the only thought in my head that of: RUN.

I get up quietly, careful not to wake Bronwyn. She's so nice to let me sleep in her bed. But I really should be going now. I shouldn't bring danger into her house. I should leave, now, and take the trouble away from her. She's done nothing to bring that upon her and into her house, and I can defend myself. Gevurah and Gedulah are sheathed at my sides. I can take anything on.

I am on foot, then, five minutes from Benny's house, pre-dawn light just beginning to blush pink along the horizon, when I hear the carriage. Before I can even turn around, he's upon me, the carriage already stopped ten feet ahead in my path. How can it be so fast, is my only thought before he takes me.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

There's someone in my house. I think about it as I continue to play. The piano is, in a way, playing itself by this point. The notes always flow best when I've lost just about all of my cares. Still, I think. The thought sloshes back and forth in my brain, and I swish it back and forth a few times to taste it out. Katherine. Katherine's in my house. She's come home. That must be it, because everyone else has gone out. That's fine. I wanted the house to myself, but having Katherine around is fine. Someone to commiserate with. Someone to share the rest of the wine with.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

To mock a great opening line, picture this: Gerald standing in front of me, happy all over his beaming, punchable face, hands on his hips, the very picture of a heroic retard.

"Okay, Katherine, I forgive you."

"I... okay wait, what?" I swear, that was so out of nowhere that I can't figure out a way to kick him for it. "Will you just get out of the way? I need to go see the Judge."

"Oh, Daddy's not in his office. Come on, let's go talk." Gerald grabs my hand. I jerk it away.

* * *
Gerald
* * *

"Hi, Dad."

Father looks up at me from the door. He blinks, not wanting to show confusion, but obviously wondering what the hell I'm doing home before him. His jaw is tight, too - his face is showing the strain he's feeling right now. Considering how much effort he goes through to hide such things, that's a sign of just how much the situation has gotten to him.

"Stevane and Lyric are still at the Poet Hall, watching over Jhe h'Logos. I came here to make sure you didn't need anything. Gerude's gone out, and I guess Lute's out doing his duty now. Jenny didn't even come by here yet, it looks like." I shrug. "Weird, having an empty house. Do you think Katherine will be by soon?"

His eyebrows knit together. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Gerald, do you have some business with me?"

I startle a bit. "I um... no..." Oh dear. That's a lie. Father cocks his head at me, his expression plainly analytic. I'm being read.

AUDIVA ROCALE, BORDER REGIONS

* * *
Lute
* * *

This carriage is moving way too fast. We should not be anywhere near Radia in this short of a time, but somehow we are. Thelea only looks smug about it, and Xen doesn't question the speed.

Then there's Aaren, who hasn't made any reaction at all to what's gone on in this carriage. He hasn't woken since Xen's return. He just lies back against the seat, his complexion pale and waxy and his face drawn and tight. As far as I can tell, he's experiencing normal sleep, but after what happened to his Arms, who knows what he's experiencing right now? Just thinking about Schiphael makes me want to jump out and get Aaren and I the hell out of here.

RADIA

* * *
Lyric
* * *

Stevane knits her fingers together, hands clasped in front of her legs, knees bent up close to her chest. She's sitting with her back against Jhe h'Logos's bed. She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and then exhales slowly. I don't think I've ever seen her so quietly tense. I've seen her angry, and busy, and frantic. That was different. It seemed more natural.

Then a shenanigans climbs onto her head with a high-pitched mewl, and breaks the spell. Stevane giggles, a strange hiccup that almost sounds like a sob. She cradles the shenanigan, nuzzling its nose. I pet my own shenanigan. She bit me, so I think she thinks I'm hers now. She's a cute little thing, though.

"What are you going to name her?" Stevane looks at me over a pair of tiny kitten ears.

"Mewgul." I nuzzle the thing, and it belligerently bats at my nose. "I think she's pretty cranky."

* * *
Julia
* * *

I rise out of a sea of rubble, my entire right side covered in blood, and it feels good. Possibly this feeling is because I have just killed every enemy soldier in the room. Heavy black coats lay in shreds over the marble shrapnel of the floor like peasant rugs. Every now and then I glimpse a shiny black boot. I take one careful step forward, Gwen's length shimmering in protective circles around my body.

Nobody home.

Given that this used to be the audience chamber, that's impressive. It was a very big room. Now it is very pretty rubble. I toe a broken bit of marble, oddly shaped like a nose. Some departed statue. Pity. Even the Aurocan crest in the overhead stained glass window is shattered.

* * *
Kevrin
* * *

My name means 'beloved'. That's what I'm thinking as I stare up through the rubble over my craggy, beaked face. My name means 'beloved', and somehow in my mind, that has something to do with the fact that I'm alive right now. That's a little funny. It hurts to be alive. Heavy pieces of ceiling are crushing my body, and my entire brigade is dead. But I remain 'beloved'. What a joke.

I'm still contemplating that when someone hauls me up from the rubble and starts to brush off my clothes with gentle thwumps. I hope for just a second that another comrade has survived. I know it can't be someone from the shadow division. It's their job to save bodies from outside their division, not lives, and the shadow division invariably does their jobs to exact specs.

* * *
Julia
* * *

Not much about this situation is coherent right now. I'm sorry. I try to make my reports as clear as possible. If it weren't for Cary I probably wouldn't be able to think straight right now. I can feel the touch of his quill in my movements and my Aim. That boy can make more sense out of a nasty battle than anyone.

Gwen whips around me in a razored spiral that flays several of the enemy. She's all I can see, really - all I can focus on. To be honest, she's doing the dancing here. I'm only following her steps. I've reached that point in a fight where the Armed is led by her Arms. It's an odd sense of detachment - relaxing. Arms always know what to do in a fight. There's none of that silly hesitation that lost me my arm earlier. There's only that gentle nip at my heels, reminding me to keep up the pace. Gwen is patient, but she is quick.