Eje's fingers drum on the sword's fuller as she watches the captives struggle to sit up. “Who are you?” one of them mutters. He stops as Eje's blade pokes under his chin.

“The better question is, who are you? Why did you come here?” He looks her in the eyes, then sneers and crosses his arms.

“We came to bring war to you and your overfed hats, girlie.”

Eje stands up. The three conscious ones follow her movements. The last one mumbles and stirs, her eyes open but motionless, her expression vacant. “Let's be clear.” Eje winds up and kicks the man in the face, laying him out flat again. “My name is Eje. Call me girlie, girl, or lass again and my next one'll have an edge to it.”

“Be gentle. We'll have time for violence later.” Tal stands in the doorway, both arms attached, face intact, hat still tilted. When she strides into the room, no sign of a limp, all conscious eyes are on her. Even Eje barely sees Salaya shutting the door behind them. Tal stands over the four prisoners. One still groans but sits still against the cellar wall. One lies on the floor, hands over his bleeding nose. “You're a sorry looking lot.” No answer. Tal smiles and smooths out her dress as she squats before them. “Do you know what the key is to making people talk?” It's moment before Eje realises she's addressing her and Salaya, making conversation like the party was never interrupted.

Eje brandishes her sword. “I would wager these birds will start squawking when we pluck a few feathers.” Sounds tougher than she feels. The thought of torture makes the raspberry juice churn in her stomach.

“The others will notice we're missing.” says the one with the broken nose. “They'll come looking for us. You'd best start running.”

Tal's laugh echoes through the room like a bird's song. “She threatens to hurt you and you're already pleading for mercy. No, no. We won't hurt you. Eje, Salaya, go stand by that far door. Listen for anyone coming down. I only wanted one, but I'll make do.” She motions the injured man up and pushes the chair toward him. He sits, face and hands smeared with blood. The others glare up at them. They must be thinking of escape, of pushing past this one unarmed woman. They don't move. Tal reaches into her pocket. Does she have a knife in there? Perhaps some horrific instrument of pain hidden in the folds of her dress? Instead she draws out a handkerchief, white as the first snow, and hands it to him. He wipes his face, eyes not leaving her, blood infusing the delicate silk like crimson ink poured over paper. After a time, she speaks again. “It's been a difficult evening, hasn't it?” She continues without waiting for an answer. “Would you like a drink? Something to eat? There's food here.”

“Gaskaback will feed you all you can eat, lady.” snarls the conscious woman. “You'll all be stuffed soon enough.”

“Yes, quite.” Tal doesn't take her eyes off the man in the chair. “What's your name?”

He glares up at her for several seconds. “Ivir.”

Tal stands up. “Well, Ivir. I have a question for you. What's your plan? Surely you know by now that there's no exit. You're expendable. That's why you're here.”

“Your lives are expendable. Soon our armies will co –”

“Stop embarrassing yourself.” Tal cuts through her bluster without raising her voice. “We know you aren't from Gaskaback. We've known all along. The question, Ivir, is what do you think will happen to you?”

“I...I don't know.”

“Ivir. Do you have a family? Parents who depend on you? A wife? A lover? Children? Siblings?”

“Why do you care?”

“I'm not the one who needs to care. You are. Who are you leaving behind? I am a mage of means and money. I can help them.”

His eyes fall. “My wife. And three year old son. He's sick. I'm doing it for him. You hear me? I didn't want to do this. I needed a job, and the one who hired us promised good pay.”

“And you'll still get that pay? After you're taken by the royal guard?”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because you have nothing left to lose. We're all nobodies in the end. We all strive beneath the gaze of the gods, striving in vain for lasting impact. It might be an act of defiance, it might be a heir. Your act of defiance is over. I am offering you one last chance to have an impact on the world.”

The woman looks as though she wants to interject again, but Tal beats her to it. “And what about you? And you? Or you? All of you have families, do you not? I can help. Your son need a doctor? I can hire one.” There's something in her calm tone, something in the faint smile that peeks from the edges of her mouth, but in that moment, Eje believes it.

“What will you do with us? Will you help us escape?”

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, I can't. You've committed a grave crime against powerful members of society. You understand that there is no coming back from that. You understood it when you took the job.”

“We understood that we would survive at all costs.” The woman smirks from her haunches, then leaps to her feet, lunging at Tal. Her hand comes up from her waist glinting with steel. Salaya yells something. So does Eje. She rushes forward, but it's too late. An unseeable force grips the woman in mid-lunge, pulling her to the ground at Tal's feet, twisting her body like a corkscrew. Her face contorts and her mouth cries out, but she utters no sound. Her legs thrash. Her arms flail. Then it's over. She lies motionless on the floor, mouth and eyes still open. Eje knows at a glance that all traces of life have left her. A thin trail of smoke curls from her mouth. Even the semi-conscious woman is awake now. She and the other two remaining prisoners tighten up, arms hugging legs, lips sealing mouths, shoulders fortifying heads. Salaya sucks in her breath. Is it right to kill, even in self-defence? Tal could surely have subdued the woman. The enemy, yes, but a person still, and no person deserves to die underground. The dagger lies at her side still, another unfulfilled promise. Eje looks into her eyes, fixed into the afterlife. Does she see the Great Gates opening? Or do her eyes fill only with the endless black expanse?

“Gods preserve us.”

“She died forgotten.” Tal turns back to the man in the chair, still holding her beautiful handkerchief, stained as it is with blood. “You don't have to. As I said: there is no way out. The question is: what will your last wish be? What do you want? I know what I want: information about your employers. Lie to me, and I'll know. I'll give you time to think.”

Tal saunters over to join Eje and Salaya in the corner, out of earshot. “Are you really going to help those people?” asks Salaya.

“If they help me. I believe in fulfilling promises above all.”

“That's very noble of you,” says Eje, “but what do we do now? The upstairs has gone quiet.”

“They know something's gone wrong. They also know they can't afford to send another person or two and risk losing them, and they can't send down a larger force and lose control of the nobles, some of whom are bound to know a bit of magic.” says Salaya.

“So we're both stuck?”

“Right. No need to rush just yet.” Salaya turns to Tal. “What was that magic you used back there when the woman attacked you? I've never read about any branch that could do that.”

This is hardly the time to talk about magical theory, but Tal doesn't complain. “It's because I used more than one branch.” she says with a smile that could melt ice. “Kinetic, mostly. That was to stop her. Also some fire. I lit a flame in her heart, both figuratively and literally. And a little bit life, just to suppress her cries.”

“I...I didn't see any of that.” Salaya's mouth hangs slightly open. “I can't imagine doing that to another person.”

“I threw in some theatrics for the audience. The bulk of it, however, was not meant to be seen. The best magic is subtle.”

Something in that phrase jolts Eje's memory. Tal truly was Octave's mentor. She approaches the corpse to look at it again, closer. The other prisoners watch but make no movements. When she pushes down the eyelids to grant her spirit peace, the scent of charred meat lingers. She rejoins Salaya and Tal before she can vomit.

Tal raises a hand to quell Salaya, who still looks in shock at discovering what magic can do. “I have a few questions myself. Oh, not with the prisoners. With you. Fair is fair, no?”

“With us?”

“Call it curiosity. You don't have to answer of course. Just know that I can infer a great deal from silence.” Eje trades glances with Salaya, her mind racing back to when Octave misled her about the village tomes. Misled but not lied to. How can she repeat that if Tal knows about the scar, knows about their meetings with Ogostinia? She could demand to know where the tomes are, accuse them of lying. She steels herself for a fight. “Tell me: do you like Octave?”

“Er, you mean as a person? I guess we're fond of her, aren't we, Eje? As a teammate she's pretty strong too.” Eje closes her gaping mouth and says nothing.

“You're saying that she's useful and you're fond of her. Like how you're fond of a pet? Or perhaps a servant?”

“That's not fair.” says Eje a little more forcefully than she planned. “She's a member of our team. We value her.”

Tal's eyes sparkle. “So a colleague? Or a friend?”

“Both.”

“Would you fight for her?”

“What?”

“If she were attacked. Suppose by a force greater and more powerful than her. Would you fight for her?”

“I can't imagine a force more powerful than Octave.” says Salaya. “Except maybe you.”

A lumbering crash sounds from upstairs like a ram against a door. Yells cut over the tinkling of glassware. “Is that...?”

“That must be the city guard.” says Tal. “Finally.”

“You knew they were coming?” demands one of the prisoners, his eyes darting to the exits.

“I knew your employers sold you out. They planned it all along. Send you in, then send in the guards. They've got their outrage; Gaskaback has attacked nobles in the heart of the Upper Realms. If you survive this, you won't see the sunlight again. Nobody will come asking for your story. Nobody will search out your families.” A voice cries out over the din, urging the its soldiers on to defend the house and drive away the guards. “He sounds confident, yet he knows the longer he holds out the more guards will come. Your time is out. Do you want me help or not?”

“My son. I...please. Don't let him die.”

“I won't. Just look me in the eyes and tell me who hired you.”

The man's shoulders slump. Crusted blood rings his nose and the handkerchief falls into his lap. “I'm not sure. We only called him Sir. He wore a mask. Recruited us. Outfitted us. Told us we would pretend to be Gaskaback hunters and take revenge on the ones who dined on wine and venison while we squabbled for a handful of barley. Just hold them hostage, he said. We were promised money. A good half year's salary.”

“But only after the job was complete.”

“Yeah.”

Tal shakes her head in sympathy. “The job wasn't meant to be completed.”

“I'm starting to realise that meself.” says the other man. “Look, I have a family too. And I've seen Sir. Seen him without the mask.” Tal says nothing, only turns her gaze on him. The ram smashes against the door again and the ceiling shudders. Bits of dust rain down. “He's a bit shorter than average, clean-shaven, and, well. Looked pretty ordinary. I can't exactly draw a picture, can I?”

“You can. Take my hand.” He stands quickly for a man who's been sitting on the floor for ten minutes. Eje can feel why. Every time Tal gives an order, she has to restrain herself from following it. Few are born to lead, but Tal, Tal was born for something greater yet. From the broken one-armed woman guzzling wine to the methodical being that takes the prisoner's hand, guiding, comforting, commanding. With each look of her eyes and dart of her tongue, her control furthers. “Now. Think of that man. Hold the picture in your mind.” Eje stuffs her hands into her pockets so she can't hold them out.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “And you can see it? You can see into my mind?”

“I can see what you show me.” A few moments later she releases his hand with a nod. He sinks back to the floor, not opening his eyes until he's seated. “How did he speak? Like a peasant? A bandit? A noble?”

“A noble. Oh, he tried the simple lingo, but we can tell when we're being had. We aren't stupid. He came from wealth. Course, that's why we followed him. Knew he had the money.”

“He promised me my daughter would go to school.” The last woman speaks, desperation tinging her voice. “He paid me five silver coins and said he had far more if I could master a simple lightning spell. I did, but I still don't know how it worked.”

“You only had to cast a fragment of it, did you not?”

“My daughter...”

“She will go to school.”

“Yes. It was a fragment. Lightning channelled into the sky and held still for someone more experienced to manipulate.” The three look up at Tal with pleading eyes. The ram strikes again and a lamp dislodges from the wall and falls with an oily splash on the ground. Salaya stomps on the flame with her velvet shoes before it can flare up. Boots still thud faintly overhead, but none of that matters now. Eje's eyes keep flickering back to the corpse lying forgotten in the centre of the room. Another blow, and the door crash off and skitters over the ground. At one time, Tal seemed similar to Octave: distant, arrogant, dangerous. More cultured, yes, and more condescending. Upstairs, fighters curse and steel clashes on steel. Now she sees the true difference. Octave might kill, but not to prove a point. Whereas Octave acts to minimize dependence on others, Tal is an opportunist. She uses people at her disposal like so many tools laid out before a carpenter, measuring with one, cutting with another, sanding the edges of her work with soft words. Eje tries to drown out the screams from the dying and the injured. The crackle of lightning tells her the attackers are holding out. Tal asks more questions, and the prisoners answer. Panicked, desperate to tell her everything. Dozens of them were approached, fewer made the cut. About twenty in total, infiltrating the manor, the rightful servants sent off by the butler over the course of the day. What of their home towns? They were close, all in the same area around Catsbay. How long was their training and what did it consist of? Tal searches, probes with each question for some detail that will give her an identity, and Eje watches, listens with macabre fascination. The din dies down, the guards shouting to fall back from the lightning barrier. Then at last Tal nods.

“Tell me the names of your loved ones and where to find them. I will see them taken care of. You have my word.”

“Tal.” Salaya tugs at her sleeve, though gently. “We need to go up and help the guards retake the manor.”

“Wait. You didn't answer my question. Would you fight for Octave, even if the odds were overwhelming?”

“I don't know what this is about,” says Eje, “but Salaya is right. We can answer this later.”

“Oh no.” Somehow Tal is more menacing the softer her voice becomes. “You need to answer now.” A crash overhead tells them another door has been broken down, another point of entry forced. “Suppose she were attacked by a mob screaming for the blood of a winged demon.”

Eje, turning toward the door, freezes, cold realisation overtaking her. “How did you know?”

“How could I not?” Tal's voice practically drips with honey.

Salaya crosses her arms. “Of course we will. Octave saved my life. We would never let her down. Right, Eje?”

Eje reaches for the wall to steady herself. She half expects the darkness to show up and for her to again find herself facing Tal like a spirit facing a vengeful god of the afterlife. “Yes.”

Tal stares at them for what feels like an eternity. The cries of battle, the prisoners furtively eyeing the doors, it all slows. All that exists is the three of them. The three of them and a single bead of sweat in the small of Eje's back, threatening to drip down her spine. Then she nods. “Go ahead.”

Eje bursts through the door, Salaya on her heels. Down the corridor, up the stairs, out into the hall. The captors have their backs to them, blocking the doors. The partygoers huddle in the centre, the lightning magic hemming them in reduced to a sparking band no thicker than a ribbon. City guards in their floppy helmets brandishing short swords and table-like shields push in step by step. “Give it to me again!” screams the man who first leapt onto the table. Two trembling people at his side raise their arms, offering up fresh lightning for him to reinforce his band. It sweeps outward, sweeping guards and captors alike, searing flesh and clothing.

Salaya steps into it, the lightning sliding off her like a waterfall parting over a stone. Eje slips through the gap before it closes and launches herself at the leader. Salaya moves faster. White fire bursts at his face and he falls in a mess of smoke and screams. His lightning assistants collapse beside him from exhaustion or terror. Eje satisfies herself by slamming into the captors from behind, her dusk magic crushing them to the ground or into the advancing guards. Within seconds, the ones still standing have dropped their swords and surrendered.

“Drop your weapons. No magic.” The captain of the guard holds his sword at Salaya.

“We're helping you, you dolt.” growls Eje. “Eje Muse of the House Muse. “You lower your weapon or I'll have you scrubbing stables for the rest of your miserable life.” He steps back, eyes taking in her rumpled dinner dress and black cap, and Salaya's purple hat and flowery dress. His sword falls to his side. “Good. Now get your men downstairs. There're four more in the kitchen.”

“Is there a medic or life mage?” someone cries. Only then does Eje fully comprehend the destruction around her. Bodies in uniforms and formal wear alike lie strewn across the floor, some moving, some still. She hurries to find Erita and Kater, both unharmed but terrified.

“It's over.” she consoles them. “No more bloodshed. What happened up here?”

“Some of us tried to escape when the guards came. I knew it was a mistake.” Poor Erita, gushing tears. She always did lack constitution. “Those killers. They came from Gaskaback. How did they get here?”

“They weren't from Gaskaback, Erita.” Eje strokes her cheek. “It's a long story.”

“They were from Gaskaback, all right. Just look at this.” A passing guard holds up an insignia taken from one of the dead. An iron arrow. “Gaskaback hunters, no doubt.” He spits.

“They said they were from Gaskaback.” insists Kater. Several nobles chime in, agreeing.

“Silence.” Tal strides into the room. Her voice carries over them in its quiet, effortless way. “On authority of the Mage Guild, the next person who speaks of Gaskaback or speculates on the origins of our attackers will wish to have died here. Captain. Come speak with me in another room.”

Eje looks over at the three being led up the stairs with a jolt. Three, not four. It's strange how she can look over the carnage upstairs like a scene from a story; it happened away from her, and she only has to witness the unpleasant aftermath. That fourth woman staring up at the ceiling will stay with her, writhing and smoking in the corners of her mind, never quite buried under the cobwebs. Just like the bodies in the well. The man with the bloodied face catches her eye as they walk past, chains around their arms. “Will she keep her promise, Eje?” Eje has no answer. She finds Salaya sunk into a chair.

“Any food around?”

“You're hungry now?”

“I'm starving.” Salaya grabs an upturned tray from a table pushed against the wall. “These pastries still look edible, just a little smushed.” She sniffs one. “Urg. Mushrooms. I'm not that hungry.”

“Was that deflection magic you used to break through the lightning?”

“It was. I got the idea from Tal.”

“What? When?”

“Didn't you see her at the start? When the Gask – I mean, when the attackers first cast that spell. It would have knocked us down like the rest but Tal jumped in front and it just slid off her. I knew what it was immediately. Came in handy later on when she was questioning those prisoners.”

“That was terrifying and bizarre. Did you notice anything strange when I, you know.” Eje looks around to make sure nobody is listening. “Pulled her arm off?”

“She looked furious. You looked scared.”

“Yes, yes, but anything strange? Did the lights go dim or anything like that?”

“Not that I remember. She was casting something though. I noticed it when she was questioning. I wasn't sure what branch of magic it was, so I just tried to deflect. Somehow it worked. She became...less imposing. Less convincing.”

Eje looks to the door Tal and the captain have closed behind them. If only she had paid more attention when Octave had told them of deflection magic. Pay more attention and make more effort, as her instructors told her in school. “Is that how she works? Just manipulates people with magic? Controls them?”

“Controls them might be a stretch, but manipulates them. It's something I intend to ask Octave.”