Week 11

  “Kaelen! Don’t think I can’t see you.”

  Briar snorted. “He walks like a goose with constipation.”

  Kaelen froze mid-stride. After a visible moment of internal debate, he turned and trudged over, arms crossed and eyes squinting with a look that tried and failed to be aloof.

  He stopped a good two meters from them.

  “Hey,” he said, tone uncertain. “I, uh. I didn’t know you two were out tonight.”

  “We like to keep our schedule unpredictable,” Callie said. “Makes us harder to assassinate.”

  Briar looked Kaelen up and down, then turned to Callie. “Is this the person who killed me?”

  Callie nodded. “Only indirectly. More like a cause of death than an agent.”

  Kaelen winced, then straightened his spine. “I… wanted to say sorry, again. For what happened.” He looked at Briar, then quickly away. “It’s just, the townsfolk act like nothing happened. No one remembers me doing… anything. It’s like they’ve had their heads scrubbed. Except for you two. Why?”

  “Why do we remember?” Callie asked.

  Kaelen nodded. “Well her, Ms. Briar, in particular. I sort of know why you remember.”

  Briar shrugged. “Maybe I just refuse to forget a bad thing, even if it’s easier that way.”

  Kaelen’s face twisted, but he nodded like he’d expected as much.

  “So what are you doing now?” Callie asked. “Sticking around town?”

  He brightened, just a little. “Yeah. I bought into the spa on Marsh Lane. The Verdant Baths of Apsu. I’m going to help expand it. There’s a big demand for, uh, restorative therapies now. Also, I’m back at Level 1. No class. It’s kind of nice, honestly.”

  Callie raised an eyebrow. “You? No class?”

  “Figured I’d take it easy. Learn the ropes before I choose. Anyway. I should, uh, get going.” He stepped back, but Briar blocked his path.

  “Wait,” she said. “I want to ask you something.”

  Kaelen froze.

  Briar took a breath. “Do you ever… think about the people you killed? Or have they just vanished from your mind?”

  He didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, his voice was much quieter. “I was told that it didn’t matter, that I could just treat it like another game. But now, I can’t stop thinking about it. Every day. I can’t tell if it’s guilt or... ”

  “It’s ‘normal’ not to feel guilt when the people you encounter are just assets that need to be cleared,” Callie explained. “But now you’re one of them, just with a bit more awareness of the scaffolding.”

  For a moment, Kaelen looked slightly taken aback. “Wait, you mean I’ve been recast as an NPC?”

  “You’ve been recast as someone who hasn’t any real importance to the main threads of this world,” Callie replied. “Some might see it as a blessing, though it’s a matter of perspective. If you prefer, you can think of it as your punishment, though in reality there isn’t any real punishment for murder in this world or, actually, even the world I came from. Especially if your actions were sanctioned by a higher authority.

  “It’s part of the reason why no one recognizes you any more,” Callie explained. “You’ve been recast as someone extraneous to the ‘plot’ of this world.”

  ***

  They walked together, the three of them, past a row of booths selling everything from cinnamon bread to “genuine” relics from the Petalorian Archive. The vendors eyed Kaelen with suspicion but didn’t call him out by name. He really had become invisible to them, in a way that was almost unsettling.

  At the end of the lane, a squat man stood behind a makeshift counter stacked with jars of green juice. He was shouting over the din: “Try the all-natural restorative! Direct from the Lady Healer’s own shop!” The jars were labeled in bright ink, with drawings of moss and warg paws.

  “I tried that stuff yesterday," Kaelen said helpfully. "It tastes like lawn clippings but does the trick.”

  “You could just eat the moss raw,” Briar said. “Cheaper, too.”

  Kaelen shuddered. “No thanks.”

  Callie watched the vendor work the crowd, then turned back to Kaelen. “I never asked. Where are you really from? Before here.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Australia. Sydney. But I was only in the Library for a few days before they sent me here. Zhou Yu trained me. I don’t think Belus liked me much.”

  “What? You’re from Earth? What are the chances of that? Belus must be trying to keep us all together or something,” Callie laughed. “And, for the record, Belus didn’t like anyone.”

  Kaelen looked at her with renewed interest. “You knew him?”

  “He was my boss,” Callie said. “Sort of. For an entire year.”

  Briar watched the exchange with mild confusion, then said, “You two are like long-lost cousins. From the side of the family nobody talks about.”

  Kaelen nodded. “Could be worse.”

  They stopped near the edge of the town square, where the last of the evening market was being packed away. Callie could see the faint outline of the aqueduct in the dusk, and, beyond it, the ridgeline where green moss still glowed in patches.

  Kaelen leaned against a wall, his confidence returned now that the crowd had thinned. “Back home, I worked as a property agent. Nothing exciting. No skills for this place, really.”

  “You’re adapting,” Callie said.

  He shrugged. “It was bad, at the end. The world, I mean. Quietus had everyone scared. Birth rates plummeted, and then…” He trailed off, voice going tight. “Not unhappy to have died painlessly and been reborn, honestly.”

  Callie didn’t answer. She knew the feeling.

  ***

  Kaelen looked at Briar, then at Callie. “So how did you save her, anyway? Some kind of resurrection spell?”

  Callie shook her head. “Nothing like that exists here.”

  Kaelen fell silent, watching the green mist swirl in the gutters. “I want to bring back the people I killed. Or at least say sorry to them.” He said it like a joke, but the words stuck in the air.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Callie said, “It didn’t work that way back on Earth.”

  Kaelen nodded. “There weren’t monsters in our world, either.”

  Callie looked at him with a quizzical expression. “There are monsters everywhere. Some just have better disguises.”

  He met her gaze, and for a moment, the cocky Paladin was gone. In his place was a very tired, very young man, lost in a world that no longer needed him.

  “They’re real people, aren’t they?” he said.

  Callie didn’t hesitate. “As real as you or I.”

  He blinked. “If you ever figure out how to bring them back, will you tell me?”

  Callie considered, then offered her hand. “Of course.”

  He shook it, his grip steady. “I’ll keep an eye on the town for you.”

  He smiled, and then, with a nod to Briar, melted away into the thinning mist.

  Briar watched him go, then turned to Callie. “You’re good at fixing things.”

  Callie looked at her hands, the scars under her nails, the faint green tint that never seemed to scrub off. “I try.”

  Briar looped her arm through Callie’s, and together they headed back through the glowing dark, toward home.

  ***

  Week 12

  A week later, the town had settled into something almost like peace.

  The green haze was gone except for a few show-off patches on the wet side of buildings and in the shaded corners of yards. Every morning, Callie found fresh herb cuttings in the wooden box by her front door; gifts from grateful townsfolk, or bribes to get her to fix ailing pets and kids for free. She accepted both, equally.

  On market days, the lane outside The Disenchanted Cauldron filled with the shouts of peddlers and the clatter of carts.

  After picking up a sack of dried beans, she cut over to the Adventurers’ & Merchants’ Post. It was really just the upper floor of the local inn, with three battered tables and a counter that had once been used for weighing coin. The real business of the place happened in the bulletin boards lining the walls. One for town news, one for outgoing mail and requests, and one for “Urgent & Unusual,” which was mostly a collection of cryptic warnings, lost-and-found notices, and threats written in shaky block letters.

  Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman in a faded green tunic was sorting packets of letters into cubbyholes. She gave Callie a nod, and Callie nodded back.

  Callie’s eyes caught on a stack of pamphlets sitting near the “Urgent & Unusual” board. The covers were inked with a crude image of the town, the green moss rendered in bright, unnatural pigment. The title leaped off the page: “THE VERDANT BATHS OF APSU—Healing for Body & Soul!”

  She picked one up and flipped through it. Inside, the copy was full of wild claims: “Bathe in the restorative pools, and gain resistance to curse, poison, and fatigue!” “Site of the historic Green Miracle!” “Patronized by Lady Calanthe, Healer of Apsu!” There was even a section on the back touting the wares of The Disenchanted Cauldron: “Cures for all conditions! Home of the moss miracle!”

  Callie read through it twice, then a third time. She was almost impressed. The pamphlet spun the recent disaster into a mythic boon, attributing the town’s new “mana field” to a rare, beneficial event only witnessed once per century. It claimed that the entire town now retained a “mana imprint,” causing crops to grow, animals to bear healthier litters, and every local to live longer. There was even a bit about “dormant green sleepers” said to survive in Apsu’s catacombs.

  ”Motes of green shimmer in the sunlight like echoes of memory.”

  Callie shook her head. She’d spent a hundred years sorting true from false in the Library, but here, the two had merged into one green, glorious lie.

  She checked the author line: “K.” No address, no details.

  She set the pamphlet down, looked back at the counterwoman, who shrugged and said, “We’re sending them out to all the nearby towns and capital cities.”

  On her way out, Callie stopped by the “Urgent & Unusual” board. A new poster had been posted:

  “To all: Apsu is now a natural anti-magic sanctuary. Monsters and pilgrims may seek refuge here, provided they respect local customs. Contact the Baths or the Cauldron for further guidance.—K.”

  Callie considered tearing it down, but left it where it was. There was something almost honest in the audacity. And besides, it would probably cause the town less trouble than her own patchwork heroics ever did.

  She tucked the pamphlet into her coat, the urge to laugh rising in her chest. It was obvious that she had to leave Apsu as soon as possible.

  ***

  That night, after the last customer had left and Ember had been thoroughly fed and brushed, Callie climbed the stairs to her apartment and found her friends already waiting.

  Briar was perched at the writing desk, pen and brush in hand, while Tanith hunched over the low table with a book and a stub of candle. Zhao Tong leaned in the window alcove, arms crossed, looking for all the world like a cat who’d agreed, reluctantly, to live indoors.

  Callie set down her satchel and slipped off her boots. She poured herself a cup and sat on the footstool by the desk.

  “Okay,” she said, “I’m ready.”

  Zhao Tong looked up. “For what?”

  “To see your sister. In the capital. Your capital.”

  He nodded once, approval barely visible. “When do you want to leave?”

  Callie exhaled, unsure. “Soon. I’m not at full strength, but if we wait too long…” She shrugged.

  Zhao Tong’s eyes were gentle, though he’d never admit it. “We’ll go when you’re ready. She’s been sick a long time.”

  On the desk, Briar was carefully writing in Callie’s blue ledger. She’d spent the last two days transcribing everything Callie could remember from the Petalorian Archive, using her best script and a set of watercolor pigments (the tempera was too fussy) that she’d traded two bottles of dandelion wine to acquire.

  She flipped the book around so Callie could see. “I’ve got all the formulas for making antimicrobials with herbs,” she said, pointing to the tidy columns. “And I copied the bits about Healing Levels. There’s a chart of all the Active and Passive spells, plus notes on when they unlock.”

  Callie examined the pages. The handwriting was Briar’s; a beautiful neat cursive which some genius had decided to bestow on her. She’d even drawn little diagrams showing how the healing moss spread through wounds.

  “The moss is… artistic,” Callie said, tracing the bright green illustrations.

  Briar grinned. “I like drawing plants better than people. They hold still.”

  Tanith leaned over, candlelight dancing off her spectacles. “I particularly like your rendering of the Petalore,” she said, tapping a full-page sketch of the carnivorous book. “It’s almost lifelike. If you squint, you can hear the screaming.”

  Briar beamed.

  The ledger itself was unusual; its pages thinner than rice paper, but perfectly opaque, no matter how much ink or color Briar layered on top. When Callie had first acquired (stole) it from Belus, it was meant as an accounting tool, but she’d quickly realized it was far more durable than it looked.

  Briar flicked to the next page, already half-filled with her looping script. “What kind of paper is this anyway? I tried to bleed it with four different inks, but nothing shows through. It’s absorbent, but never gets soggy. It’s… perfect.”

  Callie kept her expression bland. “Don’t ask.” She thought for a moment of plausible deniability.

  Tanith laughed, for real, and the sound made the whole room feel warmer.

  Zhao Tong set his teacup down and unfolded a map. “The city is in the west, across the riverlands. It’s called Perpetual Peace.” He pointed with a blunt finger.

  Callie squinted. The characters were, to her surprise, exactly as she remembered from her old world. “Isn’t that Chang’An? Why is there a Chang’An in this world?”

  Zhao Tong blinked. “You read the Qin language?”

  “A little,” Callie said, lying shamelessly while hiding her smile behind her cup. “It was a hobby.”

  He studied her with new respect, then nodded. “Yes. The capital is Chang’An, but outsiders call it Perpetual Peace. My sister’s house is on the east side, near the Scholar’s Quarter.”

  Tanith closed her book with a soft thump. “How long will it take to get there?”

  “If we move quickly, a fortnight. If we’re careful, three weeks.”

  Callie looked at Briar, who had already started packing up her pencils and sealing the ink jars. “I suppose you’ll want to come along,” Callie said.

  Briar didn’t answer with words. She just stood and wrapped her arms around Callie from behind, chin resting on Callie’s shoulder. “I’ll carry your bags,” she said, then kissed her cheek.

  Tanith raised a hand. “I’m coming, too,” she said. “There are at least four monasteries along the route with libraries worth visiting. Plus, I promised Lemmie’s mother I’d deliver a letter to her cousin along the Glass Road.”

  Callie eyed the group. “It seems I don’t get a say in the matter.”

  Briar let go long enough to say, “Nope. You’re hopeless without us.”

  Zhao Tong took this as settled. “We’ll leave at sunrise in two days,” he said. “Pack light, but bring winter coats. The road over the pass is cold, even in summer.”

  Callie nodded. “I’ll ask Lemmie to check on the shop. She’s been eyeing my key for days.”

  “She’d run the place better than you,” Briar said, then yelped as Callie pinched her waist.

  They finished their tea while watching the oil lamps burn low and the wind sway the curtains in the window.

  Callie looked around at her friends—her family, for lack of a better word—and felt a sharp, unexpected gratitude. She’d spent her previous life trying to fit into families that didn’t want her, or didn’t know what to do with her. Here, for the first time, she felt chosen. Not just for her skills, or her usefulness, but for herself.

  She reached over and squeezed Briar’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Briar squeezed back. “For what?”

  “For being you,” Callie said.

  Briar just smiled, and pressed her lips to Callie’s temple.

  Later, as they cleaned up and prepared for sleep, Callie stared out the window at the green-lit rooftops and the stars beyond. She wondered what awaited them in the capital. She wondered if she could really help Zhao Tong’s sister, or if the journey would just be another lesson in letting go.

  But for now, the world was quiet, and her hands were warm, and for the first time in a hundred years, she looked forward to what came next.