A whoosh of air hailed the passing of a spear very close by our location.

With a mad yell and an aetheric roar, Skids spun up our spinnerbike to get us away from the danger as fast as possible.

With a whoosh of air and a thunk of impact, a thrown spear burst the rear tire. The spinnerbike lost traction and speed, making it easy for a second spear to ruin the front tire. Skids barely kept control, somehow succeeding in mostly stopping the bike before it fell over. When dro leaned to the right I leaned too, and we were able to dismount into a half crouch, half sprawl, with the spinnerbike between us and the attacking raiders.

I heard the otherworldly hum and occasional loud reports of a heavy mage weapon.

"Spire is hurt!" Cards called over the ventril, followed by the further firing of sa's aetherrailer.

"Ahhh!" Spire added. "My leg!" Sa definitely sounded badly wounded.

I peeked over the spinnerbike to see that some of the raiders had returned to cover behind various bushes and trees. The rest were fallen, likely dead. The survivors had plenty of spears, which they were occasionally hurling towards the two mage casters. There was no way for the casters to find cover, as the raiders had them sufficiently surrounded. However, they appeared to have created their own cover. A thick fog or smoke had hidden them from the unaided eye. I was certain that this visual shield had been released from some magical device by one of the casters.

While the raiders could not see Cards or Spire, they knew their rough locations somewhere in the middle of the fog, and continued launching spears with their evidently powerful arms. Their throws were more accurate than I hoped or expected, as shown to Skids and me through our magical goggles. Was mine only a 'goggle' now? If the right lens was functioning the same as the left lens then it was wasting its efforts.

"Is there anything we can do?" I said to Skids. I struggled to get the words out, as the situation had me as tense as I had ever been. Realising this did not help me relax.

"No," Skids said, sounding just as strained. "There's no way I can get close enough to shock even one of them."

"An ABAM?"

"It might toss their spears around, but there's too many of them for the casters to take out before they recover. I only have one left."

"They only work once?"

"Something like that."

As we spoke, I saw Spire firing a weapon a few times at our foes. Even with the aid of the goggles, at this distance I could only tell that the weapon was short and stubby. The launched projectiles expanded into nets as they flew towards their targets. The edges of the nets were weighted, causing them to wrap around their targets, even when they were behind trees and shrubs. At some magical gesture from Spire, each ensnared raider went rigid and dropped to the ground. Cards continued to blast away at our attackers, putting spikes through a few and felling a couple of trees in the process.

Several spears had struck the pair during this time, but their chests and upper limbs were sufficiently armoured to prevent them from being impaled. The impacts still clearly hurt, and ruined their attempts at aiming multiple times.

I needed assurance that this would end well. "They can do this, right? I mean, sall can do this."

"Of course," Skids said, sounding unsure. "There's only about twenty raiders left."

I saw less than that number on the ground. More than ten, but not many more.

Apparently out of the paralysing nets, Spire threw the weapon down and aimed sa's right wrist at an exposed raider, steadying it with sa's left hand. A spinning blade shot out of the fog, cutting down the raider before he could throw his spear. Sa took aim at another raider and—

A spear from a raider behind Spire took sa in the back, in a place where sa's armour was weak, damaged, or simply absent. All I knew in the moment was that Spire toppled onto sa's face and never again rose or even stirred.

Cards immediately began firing rapidly and indiscriminately. Sa put the most pressure in the direction from which the killing spear had come.

"They're aiming for the sound!" I yelled as I understood how the raiders were faring so well, but I was too late. A storm of spears came at Cards from sa's flanks and rear, and two of them hit flesh only moments apart. The caster was spun around either by the force or in reacting to the pain, but sa continued firing even as sa's life drained away.

Two more raiders dropped permanently in the final seconds before Cards joined them. The mage's aetherrailer fell silent.

The spears stopped flying. Ten silent seconds passed. I glanced to Skids, but dro shook dro's head very slightly. Yes, running would be pointless.

One of the raiders whistled sharply, and every standing raider turned to face us as one. Their point was clear.

A raider spoke, his voice deep, loud and clear, though accented. "I see that you are not fighters. Surrender, or your deaths will be more painful than those of your companions."

Skids looked to me. I nodded. Surrender was our best option, unless Skids had some secret magic I was unaware of. Given Skids' demeanour, this was extremely unlikely. The downcast eyes and slumped shoulders were not those of someone preparing a surprising reversal or escape. I had watched my brothers play-fighting enough times to know the signs of trickery.

"We surrender," Skids said, speaking loudly without shouting. Not defiant, but not weak either.

We both stood up slowly, keeping our empty hands visible and away from our bodies to prevent misunderstandings.

"So, two clever mages have fallen into my trap," the same raider spoke. This time I was able to identify the speaker. He had been behind one of the more distant trees, and was now walking towards us. His men were falling in behind him. Not just men, as a few were women. Most were wearing a variety of brown and grey animal skins, though a few wore cotton items of unknown provenance. The items varied in quality, with most being clean but also ragged. The speaker's outfit was in the best condition, and was the most elaborate. It consisted of a long coat and trousers made of the same reddish brown hide, trimmed with strips of a darker hide. I had no doubt that he was the leader of this group.

I decided to leave the talking to Skids, for now.

"What do you want from us?" Skids asked, almost succeeding in sounding confident. I could tell that it was an act, though I was unsure whether the raiders were fooled.

"We will take all you have. Your bags, and anything in them. Your labour to repair these engine-driven bicycles, and assistance in learning their use. And all you know regarding the use of the weapons that were used against us." The leader was now only a few paces from us, though he was out of Skids' reach. His fighters arranged themselves in a wide arc behind him.

I looked to Skids, and saw dro's eyes scan warily across the raised spears, then jump back to the leader's face. It was an unforgiving face which had seen many harsh years. His lips were cracked, and his beard and eyebrows were bushy and greying. Other than his outfit, he did not appear particularly different from one of the Pure. None of the raiders stood out as unusual or notable to me — other than some of their hairstyles — and they had a distribution of the various features common to humanity. There might have been a predominance of taller people, though it was hard to be sure given the small sample size.

"Will you leave us our lives?" Skids was focusing on the important questions, rather than getting lost in unimportant details like I was.

"If you cause us no trouble or delay, then yes, we will leave you here, free and alive. Or you may leave with us as members of this band, if you so choose."

"Then we'd better start patching our tires," Skids said, and managed a weak smile. "Your tires, now. And we'll need to drag the other spinnerbike out of the patch of fog so we can check it for damage. I'd better do that myself. Let's just say that you really don't want to breathe that stuff. You're really lucky that Spire only had the one canister. And that the air's so still this evening. Otherwise there might be a lot less of you standing."

"Enough talk. Put down your bags and step away from them. And take off your boots, helmets, and eyewear. Oh yes, and your gloves too."

I began to do as ordered, reluctantly starting with my handbag, but Skids had an objection. "It's getting dark quickly, and I'll need either a light or my goggles — eyewear, as you say — to see. With a light, you can see too. I'll need to leave my gloves on for that." Skids waggled dro's fingers against dro's thighs for emphasis.

"I know how tricky you mages are with your magical gloves," the raider leader said, flashing a grim smile full of crooked teeth. "Produce your light, then remove your gloves so my men may hold them for you. And you, keep at it." The last part was aimed at me, as I had stopped with only one glove off. I hurried to comply, but not too hastily.

Skids pointed dro's gloves at the ground, then made a series of motions, at the end of which both produced a narrow beam of white light at a reasonable brightness. Dro slowly pulled them off, set them down, and stepped away. A pair of raiders picked them up and pointed them at Skids and me. They were taller than Skids and me, but Skids out-muscled them.

"Now the eyewear, helmet, and boots. Then you can start on the tires and your blue companion can retrieve the other bike."

Skids took off dro's goggles to show obedience. "Er, I'll need to do that. She's not actually a mage, so she better not go in the mist. She can't really help you with anything."

"Is that so?" the leader asked with rising suspicion. He looked me up and down, eyes glaring and brows drawn together. The magelight highlighted the deep wrinkles his expression created.

"Y-yes," I said. "I am from one of the Pure cities, and never rode on a powered bicycle before yesterday." I got the words out without squeaking or hiding my face, but only by thinking back to Father's speech lessons. Shyness and mumbling were not at all tolerated.

"What's that on your face?" he asked, meaning my eyepatch. It was exposed now that I'd relinquished my goggles.

"I was injured yesterday," I said, hoping that was enough.

"Show me." The way he said it left no room for argument.

I carefully lifted the patch. Skids was close enough that I heard dro's breath catch.

"Well well, a glass eye," the raider leader said, sounding darkly amused. "Not something a mage would wear. Fine, you can sit over by that tree, and keep still. But your mage friend seems protective of you, so if there's any trouble you're the one who suffers first. The mage will suffer too, of course, but only after we have all we want."

I sat where I was directed, and gave up my boots and helmet. The fighter who took my helmet gave an appreciative nod upon seeing my messily chopped hair. His own was shaved short on the sides and stuck up tall in the middle, which I had only seen before on mages, and not this close. Perhaps he thought I would fit in well with the raiding party. I was sure that I would not.

That was when it hit me, very much delayed. The sure knowledge of the wrongs I had done, and the guilt at the laws I had broken and the people I had betrayed. My well-rehearsed reasons for staying in that makeshift prison cell snapped back into clarity. It was like someone had slotted the missing lens back into an image projector, turning the fuzzy mess of light into the words of a song praising the Great Maker. Though there was no praise for anyone in my mind, only condemnation and regret. If I had stayed, it would all be over. Instead, I was at the dubious mercy of raiders. If I hadn't come, maybe Cards and Spire would not have either. The mages might all be safe back in Wonambi. Or Skids may have come alone, and may have avoided the ambush entirely.

Or Skids could have been captured alone. Or killed.

I reminded myself that the only situation that really mattered was the one we were now in. No amount of regret or imagined scenarios would stop Cards and Spire from being dead. I was helpless and useless, and Skids was in the middle of explaining to the raiders that some device in a compartment of the spinnerbike was only for magically pushing air into the tires, and could not be used as a weapon.

"So, little girl," the raider leader said, startling me out of my observations and musings. "I have not heard of one of the so-called 'Pure' travelling with mages before. "Are you exiled from your people?"

"Yes. Well, I think so. I mean, I should have been. But I ran away first. And then... I tried to do something good, to make up for... Well there was a fire. It was not exactly my fault but... I knew I had some responsibility. And I was sure I could do something to help, and they are still my people. My family. So..."

"You walked into a fire to rescue someone, and lost an eye for your trouble? Did you save anyone?"

"No. I mean I didn't. I mean, I saved no one, but that is what happened. And then I was imprisoned and I was resigned to my fate. It would all be over. But then I had a chance to escape and I ran away again."

"You lead an interesting life, little girl. Risking your life for your people, yet fleeing from your fate and your principles. I believe that if you were to make this raiding party your own, you would fight fiercely for all. Yet I do not know how long you could be trusted. You doubt your principles, and have not yet settled on what you will let guide you."

This raider, who would gladly slaughter and steal, was saying he couldn't trust me?

That... was actually fair. I did not trust myself either. One minute keeping every word of the Codex of Purity wrapped around me like a chain, and the next casting it all aside and fleeing my civic duties in favour of magical adventures. What was wrong with me? Was it me who was weak, or was something ensorcelling me?

Or was it the Pure who were wrong, and I was too weak to fully break free?

Any who dared question the ways of Purity and the generous laws given by the Great Maker was a deceiver sent by Mortlock, preparing the way for Baduk. This was a truth I had memorised when young, and it overrode all other considerations. It was a part of my training, a part of my mind, a part of me. I could no more get away from it than I could get away from 'one plus one equals two' or 'either a statement is true, or else its logical negation is true, but never both nor neither'.

And yet... for a few hours, I had. For a few hours, such considerations had not weighed on me. Were they really a part of me?

They must be, as they were part of each Pure person. But was I a Pure person? Or was I corrupted? Was that causing me to forget the Great Maker's words which existed for our protection? Skids had said that magic could not cause such corruption, but Krima at the clinic had said I might have a brain abnormality.

I did not know what to think. I did not know how to think. Who could I trust? Myself? Evidently not.

"Big thoughts, little girl?"

"Wha? Er, yes." His name for me was very condescending, but I knew better than to correct him. He had no business knowing or using my name, and there were many far less polite alternatives. If he felt a need to remind me of how small and helpless I was, I was not going to try to stop him.

"So long as you have no thoughts of escaping before we are done with you and your friend. I wonder whether you may yet prove valuable. Might there be some reward for your return?"

"You said that I could leave here, free and alive," I reminded him, hardly believing my audacity. "Perhaps I do not deserve either, but my friend would not cooperate with any other outcome. Besides, I think you may find collecting a bounty on my head to be... difficult. We travelled very far from my city on the powered bicycles today, and I doubt the news of my legal status has moved as swiftly. Raiders are not welcome at the best of times. Raiders dragging a body are unlikely to be given a chance to explain their presence." Actually, news of my capture and escape would probably have reached every city up to the Gap, but the raiders didn't need to know that.

"I'm sure I could find a way to ensure safe passage to collect a reward in exchange for your head. A safe passage which we will of course exploit for all it is worth, given that we are raiders."

"Why?" The word slipped out of my mouth before I quite realised how badly I wanted to understand.

"Why are we raiders? Because we can be, and we have no reason not to be. Or do you mean why are we not traders?" At my nod, he continued. "The traders roam around this land as we do. They hunt the animals for food and clothing as we do. But this is a harsh land, and there is not enough for all. The traders spend much time and effort finding and making items of some value to your people, that they may exchange them for what little food you can spare. Sometimes this is not enough, and they go hungry, and grow weak and die. Such is not our way. We train to fight, to kill, and to take. Then we are sure to have enough, and will not be the ones who die."

I looked around at the dark lumps on the ground, which were occasionally illuminated when one of the magelights turned in their direction. "And yet many of you die fighting."

"Yes, we die fighting. The traders die starving, because your people decide their trinkets are not worth the food they need. Or because they do not find sufficient secrets hidden away in tiny corners of this great big world. And because the demons do not let any structure built outside the safe zones stand, not for long enough to matter. We do not accept our fate with weakness, but fight with strength!"

"Strength, but not honour. You take food from those who have worked for it. You take life from those who have done you no wrong."

"Ah, you are a spirited one! But you are wrong. Those in your cities have wronged us, by excluding us! We would live with you in your cities, working for food just as you do, if you would allow it."

"And we would allow it, if you renounced—"

"If we renounced the truth?" I saw the dangerous signs of devotion in the man's old eyes.

"You claim to cling to truth, yet you stoop to pillaging and slaughter."

"Some things are worth killing for," the raider leader said, growing more impassioned. "Everything about your so-called Great Maker is a lie, and this proves it!" He pulled a small object out of a pouch which was strapped around his waist. It was smaller than his beefy hand, so I could not see much of it. What I could see was roughly rectangular, and parts of it reflected the occasional beams of magelight which came in our direction.

I couldn't help my curiosity. "What is it?"

"A true relic of a bygone era. Something your 'Great Maker' would have your clerics destroy. Something even your 'prehistorians' would dismiss as a dangerous lie. Something that proves that there was an era of mankind before this one, and it was nothing like any of your books say."

"But what is it?"

"Something not even the mages understand. Not with all their nonsense about demon brains. And they'll never understand while they're being 'overseen'."

"Do you understand it?"

"I... The knowledge is carefully guarded." This man was clearly hiding something, and it was more than just the secret of the relic.

I felt I understood at least part of the situation. "Whoever knew the details is dead, right? You probably killed them and took whatever that is as a trophy."

He started to shout, "It was my grandfather who..." and realised too late how much he had admitted. "Well you really are a clever one, little girl. Yeah, my grandfather took it from some bigshot leader of a trader group. He got a bit frustrated when the feller refused to share all his secrets, leaving him with a useless chunk of whatever this is, and no real answers." He smiled ruefully, then turned deadly serious, and progressively angrier. "But some day we'll find someone who understands it, and we'll prove all you people in your cities wrong! And we'll bring an end to the Great Liar!"

"Er, boss?" said one of the fighters, who had approached from the direction of Skids and the spinnerbikes.

"What? This better be important if you want to eat tomorrow."

"The mage is finished, boss. The bicycles are ready to ride — the one we flipped wasn't really damaged, just scraped a bit — and we understand how to refuel them with sunlight."

"Good, good. And the weapons?"

"No good, boss. The mage says only mages can use them. Left them in the fog."

I looked back to the site of the ambush. The 'canister' Skids had mentioned was still operating, replenishing the fog at the same rate it was dissipating. Without my goggles, I could not see the bodies of Cards or Spire. I turned back towards the area where Skids had dropped one bike and dragged the other to. I had to turn further than I was used to, due to my reduced field of vision. Skids had been moved a few paces from the bikes, presumably so dro could not sabotage them. A dozen of the raiders were standing around looking bored, one pointing a glove-light to illuminate that general area, and another giving the leader and I some light so we were not conversing in darkness.

"It's a pity, but it can't be helped," the leader said after some consideration. "Just the bikes and the sun-chargers will be a huge benefit. It's more than I expected when..." He caught himself and glanced at me.

"When what?" I asked, though there wasn't really any chance that he would tell me. I hoped I might learn something more from his reaction.

"None of your business," he said, but I knew that it very much was.

"The ambush was well organised," I said, hoping the implication would lead to another admission.

"Do you want to continue that thought, or do you want to discuss the conclusion of our business here?"

Perhaps this was a secret I could wait to learn. "Are you done with us? You have everything you asked for."

"Not exactly. I said we'd take everything, and you've still got some things."

A sickening feeling rose up from my stomach. "No, we do not."

"You've still got your clothes."

The air did not suddenly drop ten degrees in temperature, but I would have said otherwise. "Th-they've been through a fire. And they wouldn't fit any of your people," I said, rambling, grasping at straws.

"They look flexible enough. I'm sure my men can—"

A speeding, spinning blur cut off whatever terrible thing the raider was about to say. It flew out of the darkness like a crazed bat, and impacted the forehead of the raider standing closest to Skids. The sound of the heavy, sharpened piece of wood smacking into him was hollow and sickening. He collapsed into seemingly boneless heap with a visible red gash across his forehead.

"Wha—" the leader began to ask, but he did not get far.

Two more blurs took down two more of his men. I looked to Skids, wondering whether this was something dro had been expecting, but dro looked as shocked as everyone else.

For a few seconds no one knew what to do. No further surprise attacks appeared out of the darkness, but someone had to be out there. Were they still armed? Was this a rescue, or merely an attack on everyone?

"It's the..." the leader began to yell to his people, but this time Skids interrupted.

"Lights!" dro shouted.

The magelights cut out. While we were all adjusting to the sudden darkness, I heard a familiar fzzzzzzzt sound, but doubled, and louder that I remembered. This was followed a moment later by another pair of bodies hitting the dirt. Skids's gloves had functioned perfectly.

Five down, many more to go, and the only people I was certain had weapons were the raiders.