+Account of Vara Skyshatter, edited and overseen by Praetorian Asira Schmidt+

  +Foreword, written by Asira Schmidt+

  The following excerpt deviates from previously enjoyed ones, as it was, as our readers have no doubt already noticed, not written by Kyvaine himself. Rather, these are the words of Vara Skyshatter—the earliest recorded of his companions and, in many ways, the most significant.

  I would warn readers to temper their expectations, for she is only marginally more professional and less belligerent than Kyvaine.

  Kyvaine had gone off with Morlo to do whatever it was the Thaumaturge had planned, and I’d watched them leave with some sense of relief at not having to deal with the grunting prick—either of them—for all of a second before it dawned on me what I’d been left to do myself.

  It was me and the Grynkori—Gruin, I think his name was—and somehow he was a less appealing prospect for me than Kyvaine. With Kyvaine there was frustration in speaking with him, it…

  Fuck, how do I describe it? Kyvaine is clever, you’ve read enough of his writings to see the little moments of brilliance he has—I’ve read enough to know that he doesn’t even include most of them, and to tell you that he thinks very poorly of himself. These days it’s that latter fact that bothers me, but back then I was more irritated by his choosing to be stupid.

  He wasn’t like the other dumb boys who couldn’t even hold in their own drool, he was worse. Because he had the choice to actually think and do something with his mind. Instead he preferred to keep it shut off and…Well, drool on me.

  What? Surprised to hear that I thought so highly of him? Well don’t be. Everyone did, right? The only reason that stupid tit thinks I was the only exception is because he actually was.

  Well, that and because he’s an arsehole. He’s an arsehole now and he was even more of one back then. I suppose I should appreciate that he’s managed to do what so few people achieve and gotten better with time, rather than worse. Good thing, too, given all the conquering.

  But that was all long in our future, for the time being I had more pressing concerns in the form of one angry Grynkori.

  This was my first time seeing one of Gruin’s kind, and let me tell you that, as a woman, I had a very different response to it than Kyvaine.

  At a glance, he was everything male in males dialled up to eleven. Thicker arms, an angrier face, a body practically vibrating with some unseen, violent animation. The sight of a threatening man inspires a great deal of emotions in women, most of them involving self-preservation. I found myself looking around to see if there were any other humans nearby—there were—and wondering about the merits of making up some story of getting harassed to keep him off me.

  Fortunately—especially for Gruin—he defused my growing paranoia before any lynch mobs could be conjured.

  “You’re staring,” he grunted, “you have something we need to do? Morlo didn’t tell me what the next move is so I assume he did you.”

  That snapped me out of it, however reluctant my mind was to move into some activity of actual use.

  “We have to find accommodations,” as I said that I suddenly felt the weight in my pocket. The bag of coins weight, pressing against the fabric and feeling like it would surely spill out if I took another step. Nothing like carrying serious money to leave you wishing you were anywhere but in a big city.

  “Well go on then,” the Grynkori nodded, “find them.” I realised then just how much help I could expect from the man and, biting back my frustration like usual, set off to do my job.

  Arvharest was unknown to me, and though I didn’t realise it just yet I was actually the least skilled among out group at navigating cities in general.

  This didn’t mean that I’d be getting any help though, of course. Gruin was too busy doing his ridiculous grumpy hard-man routine to offer any advice, let alone make me aware that he had some to give, so we spent a good while wandering somewhat aimlessly without fruition.

  Pure entropy was at play, if nothing else, so after I’d wasted enough of my time being given misleading or deliberately wrong directions from one local or another, I eventually managed to find our way to a section of the city that looked as if it might be home to what Morlo had me searching for.

  Lots of tall buildings made from uniform and colourless pale stone. My first thought, looking at the stretch of city, was that it would be a nightmare to clean.

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  “Be easy to clean,” Gruin grunted. I frowned at him.

  “Hard, you mean?” I suggested, assuming he’d somehow gotten our human tongue muddled.

  “Easy,” Gruin growled, “look at it, pure white. You can see any dirt that gets on it without even trying.”

  That threw me for a loop, and caused a tentative conversation in which I found out about some measure of a Grynkori’s obsessiveness. Apparently ‘cleaning’ to them meant removing the dirt. All of the dirt. Even the dirt they couldn’t actually see or notice.

  Especially the dirt they couldn’t see or notice.

  I found my lip curling at that.

  “So you and the other men among your people, you’re the cleaners?” I’d always heard the Grynkori were an odd sort, the idea that their men would be doing that sort of work though…

  I didn’t get to complete that thought before Gruin shot back with a few of his own.

  “Men and women, bloody weird you lanks are. There’s just Grynkori.” He sounded offended, which, now that I’m older and less stupid, I understand to some extent. Back then I just reacted by growing offended myself.

  “There’s nothing weird about that,” I snapped, “if you’re just a bunch of men alone together then…” I trailed off and finally thought of the obvious, “where do more Grynkori come from?”

  “That’s none of your bloody business,” he snapped, glaring at me like I’d just punched him. Actually I rather suspect he’d have liked that, no doubt seizing on the excuse to detach one of my limbs. “Women, eh? Bah. It’s overly contrived, no point in having two different words for two different breeds. You’re both just lanks.”

  After being exposed to such stunning nuance as that, I should have just given up the conversation then and there. Realised I had no chance of besting his rapier wit and deftly surrendering rather than further embarrassing myself or, more importantly, possibly provoking the angry man with legs for arms.

  “Do you have a problem with me?!” I snapped, raising my voice and feigning anger until I even tricked myself into feeling it. That was where the spine came from, that was where my courage calcified. I couldn’t be angry and scared at the same time, and I wouldn’t be scared. Not with what I’d learned.

  “With you!?” Gruin sounded almost amused as he answered my question, staring up at me—it still felt uncanny to see a man so broad and tough standing inches shy of my height—in bafflement.

  “Yes,” I growled, “you’ve been surly and rude since the moment we met, is it something to do with me or are you just a prick all-round?”

  “Fuck you!” He spat, “those are fighting words!” he took a step towards me and I, recognising that fighting words to him were dying words to me, took several more back, raising my hands up, then surprising myself by curling them into fists.

  “Try something and I’ll rip you in half,” I spat. I wasn’t sure why I made such a threat, but before I could question it he’d already halted, glaring at me more warily now.

  “You’re weird,” he said at last. “Lanks are all weird, but your lot…I don’t get it. You’re skinnier, you have those useless sacks on your chest, you’re built all…odd. Rounded and bumpy, there’s not a scrap of muscle on you and I can’t imagine you lifting anything. You’re pointless.”

  It was the most baffling kind of sexism I think I’ve ever heard in my life, even to this day. Almost without prejudice, an engineer’s starkly clinical review of my body and a resultant failing grade. I just gaped at the Grynkori, trying and failing to think of some retort as he headed on without me.

  That Kyvaine had been forced to backpack around with this bloody creature suddenly struck me as far less funny than it had done. Lots of things did, I had to admit. I wasn’t even sure why I’d been smirking so much when we’d first met, it just seemed the right thing to do. It was either that or…what? What emotion would I have expressed if I hadn’t been feigning one?

  I didn’t even know myself.

  Problem with getting everything you have by screwing people around and tricking them, is it becomes a habit. Make it a deep enough habit and you trick yourself, too. I thought whatever was convenient for me to thought.

  Those were Morlo’s words, not mine. The only person who’d seen through me within a sentence, and, mad as I was, that just made me want to apprentice under him even more.

  But to do that, I’d have to start with more mundane tasks. Like renting out a set of rooms for us all to stay in.

  As it turned out that would be harder than many would suspect. Not harder than I would, mind. No, I was well used to the patronising stares and indulging smiles I got when I started asking the owner of one building or another how much his rooms cost, and it was only Gruin’s growling presence beside me that left me confident enough to actually show off the money I’d been given to pay with.

  On the other hand, it was still a sack of money. That changes things, always. You’d be amazed how polite everyone suddenly becomes when they think it’ll earn them some currency. I’ll admit, I had my fun making the following conversations as unpleasant as I could while gathering information on pricing and comparing things in my head.

  Morlo had been specific and vague at once with his instructions—a talent I’d not seen anyone except him master before then—which meant I had both a lot to go on, and a lot of work ahead of me in actually decripting what exactly I ought to be doing with it.

  He wanted us to be somewhere non-suspect, but also where he could do a lot of suspect things. I interpreted that to mean that we ought to find some place that was high class, well-regarded and whose owner wouldn’t ask many questions. To that end, I sought out some of the seedier men I’d yet dealt with.

  Among them, the deciding factor ended up being price, and I was able to further negotiate down the cost of lodging near the edge of our little haven. It was rather close to some of the rougher parts of the city, which I considered another bonus as, knowing Morlo, we’d be doing more than a bit of business there too.

  Our new landlord was quite eager to take Gruin and I over to see the rooms out, eager enough in fact that I found myself feeling rather perturbed by it. Not enough, though, to cut and run.

  Which was my mistake.

  Oh, we got to see the rooms, and they really were nice. Sprawling, well-decorated, luxurious. I could’ve worked a month and not afforded them for a night, back at Sheppleberry.

  But I didn’t get to enjoy them for long before several big, nasty men made themselves known in the doorway, bare blades in hand.

  And the landlord gestured them right towards us.

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