Thael’s presence was no longer needed at the accords.

“So what, we do fuck all twiddling our thumbs here?” Cyrus said.

“You would think after all he’s eaten he would be happy drowsing here,” their flyer, Deckerd, said, twirling his hooked dagger with a finger, the same kind as Gedwin’s talon all those years ago. The image of his thumbs, stabbing into the man’s eyes while he screamed, bled into Thael’s mind.

“I’m going to see the city,” Thael said, standing.

Verena stood in turn. “I’m coming too. Sit down, Cyrus.”

“Cyrus.” Thael fixed his blank stare upon him. “Stay with the others.”

The man grumbled in reply, but did not move.

They walked past the grounds of the pavilion in silence. The gate remained open they exited into the city. The people stared openly at their lack of livery, their cloaks dividing them from the Haolan citizens as dark holes in a brightly colored tapestry of cloth.

“Where are we headed?” Verena asked.

“I want to see their market,” he replied.

“For what? You plan on getting a souvenir?”

Thael suddenly stumbled and fell against a nearby Haolan man beside. He glared back at him, uttering, “Watch your step, gyaoli.”

Gyaoli meant outsider, in more ways than one. It would’ve been better for him to call Thael a whore’s bastard.

He bowed his head and spoke in Haolo, “Apologies, elder. It has been a long journey to arrive here.”

The Haolan man in his azure raiment merely stared back at him in bafflement, then walked away, muttering one word, “Traitor.”

“What did you do?” Verena asked. “I haven’t seen you stumble like that since—”

“Let’s go,” Thael said in Cadish. “We have our coin.”

He walked over to a man tending to his chariot, sweat beading his tanned face. He looked up to their approach.

“Brother,” Thael said in Haolo. “How much coin would it take to bring us to the city market?”

The man scoffed. “You’re no brother of mine, westlander. For you both, two rangduin.”

Thael’s eyes glinted under his hood. “You act as if I’m a gyaoli. You are mistaken. But for you, I’ll give four tuan.”

The man scratched his cheek. He gestured to the chariot. “I’ll take the two first.”

Thael produced two copper pieces from his pouch. The man nodded, hefting up the chariot.

“The man before… you pickpocketed him,” Verena said once they were seated and on the move. “They didn’t teach that in the Body.”

“We all lived before we were chosen, or in your case chose to join the order,” Thael said. “Why did you join?”

“Why did you?”

Thael shrugged. “It was either that or death before my time.”

She laughed. “Yes, quite right, you settled for something much less treacherous.”

“You never answered my question.”

Verena was silent, for a time. “My father had arranged my marriage with a count. A vile old man, but it wasn’t that I minded. I would become a mere trading piece for another family allegiance until I had withered into a wife in name, all my power gone as his concubines would vie for his attention. The thought bored me.”

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. The man lowered the handlebars of their ride, and Thael paid him the remainder of his fee.

“Are you hungry?” Thael he asked Verena.

She nodded. They walked to the market square. Rich aromas drifted and mingled with one another. Thael was drawn to a stall by a tempting aroma – all four wooden stools were empty facing the lone woman stirring a great iron pot above a fire. Steam fumed up to an opening above. The woman was stooped, her grey hair tied in a bun. She yowled, “Riko! Make yourself useful, we have customers!”

A youth hurried through from the back before pausing at the sight of Thael and Verena.

“Grandmother – they’re gyaoli.”

“Did you hear what I said, boy? Ask them if they speak Haolo. They must be famished from traveling all the way here.”

Riko shrugged and turned to them. “Do—you—speak—the mother-tongue?”

Thael opened his palm to reveal three more copper coins. “We’ll have two bowls of kanten. I’ll have mine with four eggs.”

The boy nodded, pocketing the coin, taking two glazed bowls and handing them to his grandmother, who ladled soup that smelled like the cool tea Thael had drank yesterday. Over the islands of rice with their seas of steaming soup were chunks of chopped round grey meat, lathered in sauce dark as molasses.

The old woman swelled with pride upon serving them, announcing, “This is my barbecued freshwater eel tea rice—ochuzu, named after my line, passed down from generation to generation. What my useless grandson–” she glared at the youth “–will inherit.” She bowed her head. “Meshinchi-gare.”

Thael bowed his head in turn, saying, “Thank you for allowing us to taste your line’s recipe, elder.”

The cook nodded. The boy made his escape.

Thael looked down at his bowl. The eggs were nestled at each corner, soft-boiled no doubt, just as she had prepared before.

“Why didn’t I get an egg?” Verena said with annoyance.

The hot tea had seeped into the flavorful rice, filling the many grains with its herbal taste. The rice was garnished with green scallions and strips of eel sweet from the dark sauce. When the bowls were empty, Thael spoke in Cadish, “My mother used to make this dish for me. Always with four eggs. I like the yolks soft.”

Verena shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

The old woman placed two cups on the counter with a corked bottle.

She smiled. “Drink this rice wine. No charge, please.”

Thael thanked her, the woman bashfully withdrawing into the kitchens beyond.

The wine was sweet with a dry tang. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, which Verena eventually interrupted. “I would often go to watch the cooks in our kitchen. Biscuits and gravy—those were my favorite, as well as my mother’s. When she died, my father remarried less than a month after her death. Betha and Martin were replaced by my stepmother’s servants. That whorish bitch.” She paused, looking down at her cup, then to him. “Do you have family, Thael?”

“They’re all dead.”

“Journeying through the Long Night, into the Next Dawn,” she murmured, taking another sip of the rice wine. “So the Faith say. Or deem anyone a heretic if anyone doubts such scripture.”

“You’ve had too much to drink”

Verena snorted. “I think I haven’t drunk enough. The Haolans may be vicious bastards, but they know how to eat, and drink… whatever this is.”

“Being a bastard means the world will step over you. But being a vicious bastard means everyone will watch their step.”

She set her cup back onto the bar. “Vicious, yes. To your foes. To your friends, your comrades in arms… you guard us well. You leave us to deal with whatever pettiness is between us, and if it isn’t settled you settle it fairly. You always bring us back, no matter the mission. You’re a good commander. You’re a good man, Thael.”

“If there is goodness in this world, Verena, we’re not it.” He stood, leaving a silver coin over the stained wooden countertop.

She caught his wrist. “Maybe we’re not innocent, but it doesn’t mean we can’t do good in this world. Think of Krystos. Goodness still remains, until it’s forced to survive, becoming something else. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still there.”

Thael pulled back his arm from her grip. “Let’s head back to the palace.”

As they exited he thought of her words. A Wraith wasn’t an instrument of order nor justice. It simply was a tool to serve the Empire’s will, and the Empire was anything but just. Kuhien and their son. They were trapped as he was in this foreign land, with no true home nor safety. What Hiro would become would let him endure such a world, no matter which lands he crossed. It was needed, to endure.

He noticed then a bow running through the streets laughing, pulling a kite on a strong which sailed high above the market. His parents cheered him onwards and the boy stopped to watch the kite soaring above.

Thael saw the kite vendor and stopped to examine his colorful wares.

The kite vendor gave a kind smile. “You seem to be a man that knows what he wants.”

Thael nodded. “How much is that one?” He pointed to a paper rainbow bird.

“Two rangduin.”

“A steep bargain for painted paper.”

The man did not miss a beat. “My kites are specially crafted with bamboo strips and paper of my own design. There is no other kite maker that makes kites that last for so long. The quality calls for two rangduin.”

“Do you have a casing for it? To take for a long journey.”

“Of course.”

Thael proffered three silver coins. “Another then, for its safe journey.”

The man bowed his head before stepping off his stand and taking a bamboo pole to hook the kite from above.

Thael carried the flat wooden case holding the kite within, walking with Verena through the open streets.

“Why buy such a thing?” Verena questioned.

Thael shrugged. “I saw goodness in the world.”