As my sister’s souls tried to tear free from their bodies before my eyes, I wondered what I could do. This was not a problem I’d ever even contemplated, and I didn’t know how to fix it, but I had to do something.

  I tried to send out my tendrils of magic, but there was no shadow for them to grab onto. There was no shadow in the dreamscape, because there was no light. I’d long since trained myself to think of light as an absence of shadow — it just served me better. Here it didn’t serve at all. But the reason for that kind of thinking was still very relevant. The reason I’d trained myself like that was to help myself get a grasp on my magic in the first place. The light was my enemy. Where the light was, I was powerless.

  With no shadow, there was nowhere for me to direct my power. But with no light, there was nothing holding me back.

  I tried again to send out my magic, with the mental image that if they could go anywhere there was no light, then they could go anywhere, and I, for lack of a better word, spasmed. Instead of tendrils of gold and shadow, a pulse of light burst from me, spreading in every direction and buffeting Herald and Mak’s stars ever so slightly.

  I didn’t have a heart in the dreamscape. If I’d had one, it would have stopped. But when I frantically checked on them, they were fine. Maybe, just maybe, the fear and confusion had even receded just a little.

  I hated to use my sisters as subjects to experiment with something I didn’t really understand, but I didn’t see that I had any other choice beyond ‘leave it and hope.’ So I focused on Mak. The same way that I would visualize shadows getting deeper and darker, moving the way I willed them to, I now built an almost solid image in my mind of Mak calm, stable, and sleeping peacefully with her soul fully tethered to her flesh. Then I carefully let out a streamer of magic, marvelling as, after a few abortive attempts, it actually worked!

  A fluttering line of gold, with not a hint of darkness clinging to it, sought a path from me to her like a timelapse of a vine growing across the space between two canes. I kept it as weak as I possibly could without having it fail completely, but my lightest touch was enough for Mak’s soul to still entirely; where Herald’s still waved in the invisible wind, Mak’s was stationary in the grasp of that golden tendril. I approached cautiously. Not that there had been any considerable distance between us, even in a metaphorical sense; this was more of an aborted dive into her muddled dreams, an approach to let me see and feel what was happening without truly getting involved.

  Things were still confused. I couldn’t say if Mak understood what was happening. But she had a much stronger presence now, much more of a solid sense of her, and I felt a cautious hope that while I may not be able to fix everything, I might at least have a shot at stabilizing them enough to heal on their own.

  I pushed a little more magic through the tendril connecting me to Mak, but it didn’t seem to do any good. At least her soul stayed where it belonged now, instead of straining at the last, feeble line holding it to her body. Now I just needed to keep it there. But how could I…

  Except, I did know what to do. I was just very nervous about using it. I had my seldom used trick of setting shadows in place, effectively enchanting whatever they concealed to be unnoticeable. If it worked in the real world, it might just work here. But I’d done that to Herald, as a prank, and she’d described the experience as being awful, going so far as to beg me to undo it. What if it was the same here?

  What if I did nothing, and their souls drifted away on the invisible wind once I woke up?

  “I’m sorry,” I thought or whispered or projected at Mak. “Mercies, I hope this works.”

  The fact that I was apologizing at all, even if she couldn’t hear or comprehend, was a sign of just how terrible I felt about using her like this. I’d apologized rarely enough in the last year that I could practically count the occasions. But it was her, or I abandoned the whole idea, and I wasn’t willing to do that; I simply couldn’t bring myself to test on Herald first, nor on someone else who wasn’t in any danger.

  I focused on Mak. Where I would have willed a shadow to become deeper and deeper until even the sun couldn’t reveal what lay inside it, now I focused on Mak being still, calm, whole, and most importantly, firmly bound to her mortal shell. I wasn’t sure what I was doing; I wasn’t sure which of those components might have any effect. So I focused on them all, and I felt my power take hold of her and swell, wrapping her tighter and tighter and binding her in place until suddenly, with a sensation of a snap so sharp that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the people surrounding her body heard it, the tendril severed itself.

  And the magic held. Mak no longer threatened to tear free of her body. So close to Herald, who still hung like a tattered flag beside her, she was calm and stillness itself.

  A little too still for my comfort, when I checked on her again, but not to the point that it worried me more than the alternative. I could actually see Mak now, though she looked lost and listless. If I had to put a word to what I sensed from her, it would be ennui. The impressions around her still shifted almost randomly, but she just didn’t seem to care, or even notice. She just stood on a poorly defined surface, staring ahead of her with a supreme indifference as the world melted and morphed around her.

  So, yeah. Not great, but better than not having enough of a sense of self to be present in her own dreams. The important thing was that I hadn’t shattered her ego or something equally horrible that I or my family could never forgive me for. Which meant that now I had to do the same thing to Herald.

  I just grit my non-existent teeth and did it. It had the same effect. Seeing them like that was awful. And what about Tam? He didn’t belong to me, so I couldn’t do anything for him. Would I have to claim him to save him? Could I live with myself if I did? What would Val think?

  It was all too much for me to deal with at the moment. It also wasn’t something I could do anything about until I returned to Malyon.

  “Oh, gods and Mercies!” I gasped as I woke. I’d gone to sleep hoping to be able to talk to them, and maybe wake them; now I just hoped that I hadn’t permanently blunted their minds, and that they might find their way back to waking at all.

  After what I’d seen I wanted to return north immediately, but I couldn’t. There were things I needed to do. I should talk to Alanna, to learn what had been going on. I should go to the inn, to check on things there and fetch the spare lightstones. And the question of possibly needing some kind of professional long-term care for my siblings had suddenly become very real and relevant. Even if the city was potentially no longer safe, I still needed to somehow arrange for at least a professional nurse or physician to look after them somewhere, probably in Lady’s Rest. So, to the city I went.

  I could see the blockading fleet long before I reached it.

  An hour later I stood on the roof of the Citadel, looking out across the sea to the fleet that lay just on the horizon. To my better-than-human-average eyes, the sails were only just visible; Alanna couldn’t see them, but she knew that they were there. Closer to us, the harbor was packed with ships, many of them military; what remained of the Karakani navy, Alanna told me. Compared to the blockade, they didn’t look very impressive.

  In getting to the city, I’d taken the long, strategic way around. I flew slow circles around the blockading fleet, getting a count of the ships and trying to get an idea of what was what. Not that I had much success; the best I could do was “two dozen large ships and fifty odd smaller ones,” with ten of the larger ones looking like they might be transports. Whether they carried troops or supplies I couldn’t say; the other ships, small and large, all had those giant crossbows, and I stayed high enough that they didn’t bother even trying to take a shot at me. I got close enough, once, to make sure they were flying Tekereteki colors, and that was it.

  “I didn’t see any more on their way here,” I told Alanna. “Doesn’t mean there won’t be, but not for a while, I guess.”

  “Having even an approximate count should help,” Alanna said. “Thank you.”

  “How did the situation on the sea go to shit so quickly?”

  I couldn’t help but feel some amount of guilt. Yakamo had asked me for my help in scouting the sea for enemy ships, but I’d gone out all of twice. Perhaps if I’d prioritized differently in the past weeks, they may have been able to do something about the fleet keeping any and all ships from travelling to or from Karakan.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Alanna sighed heavily. It was the same kind of sigh I’d heard far too often in General Sarvalian’s camp before I executed my little terror campaign against the Happarans. It was tired, resigned, and on the verge of hopelessness. “You’d have to ask the lady admiral,” she said, “but my guess would be on abysmal support from our so-called ‘allies’, and favorable winds.”

  “Still nothing from Tavvanar?”

  “Last I heard was that they’re very sorry, and that the League is still mustering their forces. You want to know what I think?”

  I turned away from the sea, giving her my undivided attention. “Of course.”

  She uttered a tiny little, “oh!” her face losing some of the hopelessness it had been carrying ever since we started talking. She was even surprised enough at my earnest interest that she had to take a moment to gather herself. It was rather endearing, I thought. “Well,” she said, once she’s straightened her back and swallowed down the understandable anxiety that came from having a magical superpredator staring at her. “I think they were holding back, hoping that Happar and Tekeretek might weaken us to the point the remaining League had to rescue us, and we wouldn’t be able to recover. We’d end up as a vassal of Tavvanar in all but name.”

  I dipped my head in agreement. “I’ve heard the same before. Sounds likely to me.”

  “Yeah. Only Tekeretek has committed far more resources to supporting Happar than anyone expected, and now that we’re as weakened as we are, the League may not be able to win at all. Even if we could, the losses would be horrendous.” As she spoke, her voice had become steadily tighter and more angry. Now she sniffed and blinked furiously, fighting down tears of impotent rage as she said, “I think they’ve written us off. They made a bad bet, and now they’re cutting their losses. We’re only a small part of the League, after all.” She gave me a smile that was nearly grotesque in how absolutely devoid of humor it was. “Better to cut off a gangrenous finger than to lose the hand, yeah?”

  “I suppose so.” It made sense. It was an unconscionable way for an ally to act, but not throwing away however many ships and lives on a fight they were unlikely to win, while noble and heroic, wouldn’t make sense. But that didn’t mean I’d forgive the League for what they’d done to Alanna. Or Karakan, I supposed.

  “What will you do?” I asked. Alanna was still shaking with anger. I took a cautious step closer, and she didn’t back up.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice squeaked a little, it was so tense. “Fight? Die?”

  I took another step, all I needed. She still didn’t move as I slowly lowered my head, laying it on her shoulder. She went stock still. Even her breathing slowed. “You don’t have to,” I told her. I almost whispered the words, not wanting to hurt her ear. “I could take you away from here.”

  “Why?” she whispered back. I felt a touch on my jaw; not trying to push me off, just running lightly over my scales. “Why me? You barely know me.”

  “Alanna, the first thing you told me when I got here was that you’d missed me. I like you. So do my sisters. For all our sakes, I don’t want you to die or be taken captive. It’s as simple as that.”

  She swallowed audibly, and her voice shuddered as she said, “Be that as it may… I can’t.”

  “You can,” I said. Then I huffed softly. “But I understand why you don’t think so. What if… If all hope is lost? If the city has fallen, and nothing you do can change that? Would you come to this roof and let me get you out?”

  “I don’t want the city to fall,” she said, pressing her cheek into mine.

  “But if it does?”

  “Would you let it?”

  “Let it?” I asked incredulously. “No. I’m torn in a few directions right now, and I can only be in one place at a time. I may not be here when I’m needed, and even if I am, I may not be able to change things. But I won’t let them do anything. In fact, I plan to make them hurt a little this very afternoon.”

  “All right,” she said, the movement of her cheek telling me that she was nodding. “Maybe. If we both do our damndest, and it isn’t enough, then maybe.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said, and pulled back. I had to go slow; she didn’t seem to want to let go. Once I could look her in the face again I asked, “How are things on the front?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, but it wasn’t a frustrated ‘not sure’. There was a hint of hope creeping into her voice. “It’s not like I’m kept up to date. But last I heard, which was three days ago, Sarvalian had retaken everything up to the Naverian. It’s only a dozen miles, but it’s a much easier river to fortify. With enemy reinforcements expected, I hope that’s what they’re doing.”

  “Great. And in the city?”

  “People are frightened and angry. Recruitment’s up, but so is disorder. Guard’s as busy as it’s ever been. But at least the food stores are supposed to be high, according to my father, who has it from his brother at the Office of Public Good. Fresh food might start getting scarce in the next few days, though. Gonna piss a lot of people off.”

  “Especially if the Tekereteki start raiding north of the city,” I agreed.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what?’” I asked. “There’s some concern about the Tekereteki raiding between the city and the forest. Of course that would cause trouble. People would be scared to come in, wouldn’t they? No more game and such.”

  Alanna replied quickly and with a frantic edge to her voice — all trace of her momentary hope was gone, like it had never been. “No, I mean what do you mean, ‘raiding north of the city?’ This is the first I hear of this!”

  “Well… shit,” I snorted unhappily. “I have it on good authority that some powerful people are very worried about Tekeretek sending raiders to cut the city off on land. I thought you at least would have heard about it!”

  “No! Sorrows take them all, they treat me like a fucking mushroom!”

  “Are you sure the lord commander knows?” I asked, surprised that the same idiom seemed to exist here. “That doesn’t sound like him. He wouldn’t have assigned someone he didn’t at least somewhat respect as my liaison, would he? And, I mean, this would affect public safety. If people are scared now, wait until they can’t travel to or from the city at all!”

  “Gods and Mercies, I have to report this as soon as you leave!” she gasped. “If he doesn’t know… but what am I supposed to tell him? How do you… may I ask how you know this?”

  “Tell him that lord mercantile Parvion is removing the young and the old from his estate north of the city, on the recommendation of his head of household security. They’re leaving only those able to flee quickly if raiders come. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Okay. Shit! The fact that you’re saying it should lend some weight, but shit! Shit! We’ll have to redeploy the Wolves, and they’re struggling in the south as it is. Sorrows take them all!

  On that cheerful note I left Alanna, promising to give her regards and best wishes to everyone and hoping that I could. I hadn’t mentioned my siblings’ condition to the young captain; she didn’t need another set of worries on top of what she had already. I hadn’t been able to avoid a set of my own, though: I hadn’t considered that they might send the Wolves to deal with any raiders, but of course they would! So now I had to worry about what might happen to Garal, Lalia, and the Terriallons, too.

  From the Citadel I went to Soandel’s estate, which was so close that I could just jump off the edge of the roof and glide over. The lord was apparently busy with Council business — fair — but Lady Soandel came bustling outside, hurrying as much as good manners allowed, most likely.

  I decided to simply tell her what I might need, though I left out the details of for whom I needed it. Lady Soandel swore up and down that she’d try to arrange nurses who may be willing to leave the city. And of course, any friends of mine were welcome to stay in their guest rooms for as long as might be necessary.

  She seemed genuine enough. I thanked her and moved on.

  When I landed in the Tesprils’ small garden, Kesra wasted no time coming out to meet me. She was desperate for news about her sister — and about Tammy, which surprised me more than was entirely fair. I knew that they were friends; I just hadn’t quite internalized the idea of anyone giving a damn about her. I told her what had happened, and I didn’t sugar coat it. She was in tears by the end, though she thanked me, over and over and over again, for getting them to my two little healers.

  “I was only protecting what’s mine,” I told her as I was leaving. “But if you need to thank me, get word to Samara, would you? And make sure to keep this place secure. Hardal’s a week or more away, and I can’t bear to think what it would do to Zabra if someone hurt you.”

  She swore that she would, on both points, and I was off again.

  At the inn everyone got understandably excited at my arrival. Reben told me that it was pretty much business as usual, though they’d used much of their funds to fill the cellar with ale and wine because, as he told me, “Mercies know that both are getting more expensive every day.”

  I met Sergeant Terdam there, too. Mak’s beau looked stressed, both in general and at meeting me. I couldn’t blame him. I took him aside and made him the same offer as I had Alanna; if things look hopeless, get to the Citadel, preferably the roof, and I’ll try to get you out. I barely knew the guy beyond a favorable first impression, but he was important to Mak. That was enough.

  He said he’d consider it, solemnly enough that I believed him.

  Barro was a different matter. Him I simply ordered to stay near the inn if things went to shit, and I would be getting him. I’d have to figure something out for Onur, too. No way was I leaving any of my people in a falling city, if it went that far.

  And then I was done with my obligations. There was only one thing left. I had a lot of stress and frustration that I’d been having trouble dealing with, and I needed an outlet. Fortunately, the City of Rains had provided me with one.

  I was going to divebomb the shit out of that blockading fleet. It was probably a bad idea. I did it anyway.

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