This is the third part of a three-part story. The first part is Divided Darkness, and the second part is The Face in the Shadows.
They stood across from each other in the yard, eyes shut, listening to the bare tree branches dance. It was morning, and heavy clouds hid the cold sun.
Termillion breathed in and out slowly, ignoring the freezing air. He tried to push everything out of his head except his goal, the front step of the building he was staying in.
Hester, hair grown back to full length and sigils fully faded, did the same. To get from where they stood to the front step, they would have to go to the stone wall separating the front from the back, unlock its gate using a key neither of them had--or climb it--slip through a dense copse of trees, round the building's corner, and climb the steps.
Or, they could shadowwalk to it, as they were attempting. Both of them had studied the book they had lifted from Kayss' bedroom in the Umbris compound until they could recite it from heart, and every morning for the last week they had stood in the empty yard, putting themselves to the test.
As he had every day before, Termillion sighed and opened his eyes, hoping to see the lengthy, hilly yard in front of the building, but he still saw the leafless branches. This time, however, he was alone. He looked around for Hester, wondering if she had given up and gone inside, and heard the stone wall's gate click.
He spun, hand diving into his cloak to grasp the end of a throwing knife, until he realized it was probably Hester come to celebrate.
"I did it!" she said, when she unlocked the gate. She was smiling, and she ran forward to embrace him. She stopped before she got close enough. "Don't worry, I'll still be out here every morning. Doing it once doesn't mean anything."
"Maybe I just can't do it," Termillion said. The cold finally reached him, and he shivered, pulling his cloak around him. "You'd think this would be easy for me."
"Do you remember what Kayss said, after she shadowwalked during the third trial?" Hester asked. "It took her a long time too. She probably had a lot longer to practice. And then she had to do it in front of Master Gos, you, me, Ummi, and all the other tutors." She gave him a light shove with her fist. "Like father like daughter. You'll get it."
"Maybe this dog is too old to learn tricks."
"Yeah, forty is far too old to do anything."
He eyed her. "Forty-three, spring chicken."
She laughed. "Sorry, old man. Do you want my help getting inside?"
"I should have left you at the clock tower," Termillion said, following Hester through the gate to the front of the building. "What's that?"
The front step bore a small stack of messages. Hester picked the top one up. "I saw them after I shadowwalked, but I was too excited to inspect them. This is from Magistrate Lissit." She picked up the second one. "So's this."
Termillion grabbed the last two. "It's from Mesthum. And this one...who's Briten?"
"One of the caretakers from the orphanage," Hester said. She entered the building, passing under the dark chandelier. "Katherine died in the fire, so Briten was named the next matron." She took the letter from Termillion, who started to walk away. "Don't you want to know what she says?"
"She's your friend," Termillion said, entering the hallway connected to his room. He closed his door behind him and sat at the desk, pulling Kayss' journal toward him. It lay open on the page he had fallen asleep reading the night before.
A month left before my trials, it read. I'm getting more confident in my shadowwalking. It still isn't easy, but the time it takes to picture where I'm going is shorter every time. I wish I could practice outside, but it would be impossible to do it without someone seeing. I want to keep it a secret. I would do it at night, but if Termillion found out I wasn't getting enough sleep I know he wouldn't be happy.
I've finally decided to contact the magistrate's office about my parents. I still can't shake the feeling I have whenever I'm with Termillion. I want to know if my birth is recorded anywhere. If both parents are listed, then so be it. If only my mother's name is known, then I must be right. Termillion is my father.
"I'm surprised you haven't finished reading that yet," Termillion heard behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found Hester leaning against the doorway.
"I'm taking it slow," Termillion said. "It hurts to read it too quickly. I suppose it's too much trouble to knock?"
"I did knock. You didn't answer," Hester said. "I would have left you alone, but you should see the messages Lissit left us." She entered and sat on the small bed next to the desk. "Here's the first one:
"Hester and Termillion, greetings. After two long months, the investigation is complete. Ummi has been accused of terrorism, destruction of property, manslaughter, arson within the city limits, and the endangerment of children and orphans. She has been sentenced to hang from the neck at Hangman's Turret. Now, if only we could get to her.
"She and the other Umbris are barricaded inside their compound. We don't have the forces to fight against them, neither the manpower nor the training. We need your help. I know both of you want to bring Ummi to justice. Send your reply if you are willing to help."
"And the other one?" Termillion asked.
Hester cleared her throat. "Hester and Termillion, greetings. With the investigation closed, the orphans and their caretakers would have been allowed to return to their home, but they no longer have such an option. It is my wish to have them reside in the building I have placed you. You may have wondered why I let the two of you have such a large building; this is why. I am happy to say a few of the orphans have found homes with new parents, but a dozen children remain. They, and the surviving caretakers, will arrive shortly after this letter, likely no more than a day."
Hester looked up. "There are short sections addressed to both of us, and they appear to be of a more private nature."
"Just read mine out loud," Termillion said. He stared at Kayss' journal. "I don't want to hide anything from you."
Hester nodded, and shuffled the paper until she found the section addressed to him. "Termillion: I know being a babysitter isn't something you have in mind, but it's the safest place for them right now. We can't ignore the possibility Ummi is looking for the children for one reason or another.
"Also, it may seem strange, but I believe this will be a good thing for you. Imagine the pain Kayss went through, not knowing who her parents were. Now imagine if, even a little bit, you can reduce that pain for a few others."
"That was unkind of her," Hester said, letting the piece of paper fall on Termillion's desk. "Here's my section."
"Hester: I expect you to try and keep Termillion in line. We already have one enemy of the city running free, we don't need another one. Encourage him to act as a protector for the orphans; if he begins to understand the duty I believe he will become the best thing in their lives.
"Thank you, also, for being there for him. Everyone needs someone to depend on. Your version of the events two months ago made it clear he was close to losing his humanity. You halted that, and with the help of the orphans, you can put a stop to it for good."
Termillion was bent over his desk, eyes studying the grain. Hester cleared her throat. "I suppose there's a reason she wanted these sections read privately."
Termillion opened his mouth. A million words pushed forward. He closed his mouth and swallowed, sighed. "I don't deny I did things beyond morals. Right now, even, it seems like I couldn't do those things. But every once in a while, I see it again. Kayss smiling up at me from my arms." He blinked. "And it all comes rushing back." He hesitated a moment, then looked at Hester. "What did Briten say?"
"Nothing very important, just information about her arrival with the orphans. They'll be here tomorrow, a little after noon. She and two other caretakers survived the fire. It's about to be more crowded here. On the other hand, maybe a little bit of noise would do us good. This place is far too big for just two people." She arranged the papers in her hands. "Did Mesthum say anything important?"
Termillion pulled his friend's letter toward him. "Everybody is being inspected for Ummi's sigils. Apparently the one she gave him hasn't faded yet, so he had to explain everything. Thankfully, nothing he did harmed anyone. He talked a little bit about what's going on in the city. Not even the doctors leave their homes without swords. Did I do this?"
Termillion looked up. The last sentence sent a shiver through her. "Did I start a civil war? Am I going to be responsible for more mothers, more daughters dying? He says...he says he sees people on the rooftops at night, and soldiers are often brought to the hospital. Mesthum has to watch them die. This is...my fault."
"Yes," Hester said. "It's Ummi's fault more, though. She killed Master Gos, and she made me her slave. But Termillion, listen to what you just said--you care again."
Termillion kept his eyes on the letter from Mesthum, then pushed it away. "I suppose. It helped to get away from the city. I was so deep in shadow."
"And now we can see the sun," Hester said. "What do you say to Lissit's request?"
"What can I say? The children are coming here already. We can't exactly send them away."
"I meant helping her fight Ummi and the Umbris."
Termillion gazed out the window. "Of course. All she has to do is point me in the right direction. I told Ummi I would burn the city to the ground. I suppose that isn't necessary anymore, but she'll still feel the heat."
"I'll send the response," Hester said, leaving Termillion alone in his room.
He pulled Kayss' diary into sight. What if I'm wrong? the next day's entry said. What if Termillion isn't my father? I don't even want to think about the possibility. I'm so sure of it. I mean, we have the same chin.
Termillion looked up, frowning. He pictured Kayss' chin, and laughed to himself. But if he isn't my father...he still raised me. Even before he became my individual tutor, he was there for me. I could always go to him for help, or for more training. I want to make sure I make him proud at my three trials. I should practice shadowwalking more.
Termillion closed his eyes and tried to let the stress drain out, picturing himself sitting on the bed. When he opened his eyes he was still at his desk.
The carriage, pulled by a team of six horses sweating even in the cool air, pulled to a halt in front of the house. Termillion and Hester watched the door open, and Briten exit. She waved at them, then held the door. Two more women exited, and older and a younger. After them, a dozen children of varying ages, from only a few years to teenagers, stepped down.
Briten came up to them. "It's good to see you again," she said, shaking both of their hands. "This," she indicated the older woman, "is Nariaiah."
"Call me Nari, if it please you," the woman said, curtseying.
"And Liwa tells me she has already met you," Briten said, pointing at the younger woman.
"Late at night," Liwa said. "There was someone creeping around the orphanage, and you dealt with him."
"Of course," Hester said. "I nearly tackled you."
"Yes ma'am."
"Would you like to meet the children?" Briten asked. "I don't believe you were able to make any of their acquaintances before."
"Of course," Hester said. She looked at Termillion and smiled. "Wouldn't we?"
Termillion nodded.
The eleven children spoke their name, looking anything from fearful and apprehensive to prideful and bored. Each of them, as Briten urged them, shook Hester and Termillion's hands. The two eldest boys tried to crush Termillion's hand in theirs, perhaps to prove their strength. He let them, suffering the pain without acknowledging it.
They entered the tall foyer, and the children gazed in wonder. It was nicer and newer than the old orphanage. It had dark wood banisters instead of cold wrought iron, clean tiles under their feet instead of creaking wood, and a yard in which to run and play instead of a warning not to approach dark alleys. "We have set aside a number of rooms for you three," Hester said, to Briten and the other caretakers. "There are plenty of rooms the children may choose for themselves. Termillion has a room at the end of the north hall, and I have a room at the end of the south."
"The kitchen, ma'am?" Liwa asked. "We've brought food."
"Of course. Through there. But before you go," Hester said. Liwa stopped, on her way back to the carriage. "There are some important things we must discuss immediately. Everyone." She looked at Termillion.
"Welcome to your home," Termillion said. He paused. "A tragedy befell your previous one, and it is our job-" he indicated himself and Hester "-to prevent another. She and I are former Umbris." Several of the older children gasped. "We have been trained almost since birth to fight. I will not hide things from you, children...the person leading the Umbris may want to kill you, and if she gets the opportunity I doubt she will hesitate."
He looked at the older orphans. "I see you puffing out your chests," he continued in his low, near-emotionless voice. Hester had gotten very used to it, since Kayss' death. "If you do that at the wrong time you will find a sword in it. The leader of the Umbris has great power, and you cannot stand up to it." He was gazing at the floor. "If you hear, or see, anything strange or anything frightening, tell any of the adults. Do not hesitate, or investigate it yourself. If you do, you will die."
Hester looked at him, shocked. A few of the orphans began to sniffle. Termillion spun on his heel and left the foyer, retreating to his room and shutting the door. He found Kayss' journal and flipped to the next entry.
There, I've done it. I've sent a request to the magistrate's office for birth records. I don't expect them to answer me quickly, though.
It's very late. I know I should be practicing shadowwalking, but I just can't right now. Everyone's beginning to get on edge about the trials. Ilya has already passed hers--of course she has, she's perfect. I heard a few students have failed, and every time it made my heart pound like a hammer on steel.
I won't fail. I WON'T. I will not let myself. I'll practice until I can't keep my eyes open, though I've already fallen asleep trying to shadowwalk. More than once. Termillion would be upset I'm not getting enough sleep, but he isn't the one who has to pass the trials. I was so tired today I walked right into Gerimon's arms. I must have looked like a red lighthouse, my face got so hot. He asked me about my trials and wished me good luck, and I watched him walk down the hallway afterward like a statue.
Termillion laughed, picturing the tall, muscular charmer who had failed his trial only a few days before Kayss had taken hers. Then he felt a pain in his heart, realizing his daughter must have had a young crush on the boy, and the fact she would have no more.
He wanted to pound his fist through the table. I know Termillion is nervous about my trials, too, the journal continued. He's putting me through everything he can think of, it feels like. I should practice my shadowwalking. I'm so tired, but I can't fail. I'll make him proud of me.
Termillion put a hand to his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms and head on the desk. "I was," he whispered. "So much."
The next day Hester knocked on his door while he was writing a letter, and he bade her enter. She had a letter in her hands. "Lissit's response," she said, shutting the door behind her. It was the afternoon; they had spent all morning practicing shadowwalking at Termillion's request. Hester had noticed his tired expression, but had said nothing. "She has a task for us."
"We're already taking care of the orphans," he said. "What else?"
"It's in the city. It will take us a few days." Hester paused, listening to two of the boys talk in the hallway. "They're making themselves at home, aren't they? Last night little Becca asked me to braid her hair."
"What is Lissit's request?" Termillion asked, without looking up. He heard Hester sigh.
"Ummi's sigiled warriors have been spotted a number of times in the city. In particular, a certain area seems to have a high volume of them."
"The banking district?" Termillion asked.
"Artist's corner," Hester said. Termillion looked up, then turned around in his chair. His surprised face made Hester chuckle.
"Why on Earth would she have soldiers there? Nothing but poets and painters trying to keep from starving."
"I couldn't say. Neither could Lissit, but she wants us to investigate and, if possible, catch one of them alive."
"Of course she does," Termillion said. "When do we leave?"
"No use doing it now," Hester said. "We won't even reach the city until midnight. Tomorrow, sunrise. Good?"
"Fine."
"Who are you writing?"
"Someone who minds their own business." Hester hesitated, then began to leave. "Wait," Termillion said. "...I apologize. I...It's Mesthum. He's one of my few remaining friends." He set the pencil down on the table. "I need to try harder to keep my friends around me, including you. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Hester said. "Things haven't been easy for us."
"I...forget that you have also lost friends." He looked at her. "How long did you know Katherine?"
She entered, and sat on the end of his bed. "A few years. I met her when Master Gos sent me to a city function as a representative of the Umbris. She was there also, as a representative of the orphanage bureau. We were instant friends. I helped support the orphanage after that; money, and gifts."
"And now we're-"
A young girl ran into the room, startling both of them. She was bawling, and jumped into Hester's lap. A bruise was appearing on her cheek.
"Rosie! What happened?" Hester asked. The girl kept crying, and Termillion stood, reaching a hand into his cloak for a rune missile. He opened his senses to search for an assailant.
"Reggie hit me!" the girl said, sobs obscuring her words.
"I didn't mean to!" they heard, and found one of the older boys standing in the doorway. "We were just playing!"
Termillion could not stop from imagining his daughter as the crying girl who had her face pressed against Hester. He turned and gave the boy such a face; Reggie lost all color and stepped backward. "It was a accident!" he said, trying not to cry himself.
"Then I suppose," Termillion said, "you should step up to Rosie and apologize." The sound of his voice silenced the girl's cries, and he realized both children were looking at him with wide eyes. He looked at Hester, and found her expression displeased.
He let his breath escape slowly. "Don't you think that's the right thing to do?" he asked Reggie, trying to make his voice closer to normal. Reggie nodded, and took a few steps forward, into the room.
"Raise your head, Rosie. It was just a mistake," Hester said, and Rosie looked at Reggie, rubbing her eyes.
"'m sorry, Rosie," Reggie said, looking at his feet. He scuffed one of them against the floor. He sniffled, and wiped his nose. "I didn't mean to, honest."
Termillion could practically hear the boy's heart pounding. "Thank you, Reggie."
"Please try to be more careful," Hester said.
Reggie continued looking at his feet. "Yes'm."
"Come, we'll get her cleaned up." Hester stood, holding Rosie to her. "Goodbye, Termillion."
"Bye Termillion," Reggie said. When Hester left, Termillion saw Rosie's eyes watching him until the door closed. He sighed, wishing he could swing his fist through something and shatter it. He sat and finished his letter to Mesthum quickly, hoping the doctor would understand the reason for such a terse reply. He flipped the letter out the window, watching his specially-designed rune carry it away, then considered pulling Kayss' journal closer. It was still open to the page he had left it earlier.
Instead, he stood, and sat where Hester had been, letting his shoulders sink and relax. He tried to clear his mind of everything, picturing himself sitting on the other end of the bed. He didn't have to open his eyes to know he hadn't gone anywhere. The thoughts and feelings attacked him, and kept him there.
"I admit, I haven't spent much time in artist's row," Termillion said the next night. "Not much of a row, is it?"
"No," Hester said, standing next to him, deep in the shadow of a building. "More like a quagmire."
A swirling, uneven mass of houses and shops tilted in every direction. Some of them had bright orange windows while others looked dark and empty. Some of them looked like they contained a great swell of people, while others looked to be nothing more than tiny apartments. People walked to and fro on the streets far below Hester and Termillion; some strutted down the center with feathers in their caps, others slunk along the side, casting glances over their shoulders every few seconds.
"Should we be looking for Ummi's soldiers?" Hester asked. "Or should we try to investigate, and find out what they're here for?"
"Some of both, perhaps," Termillion said.
"Let me guess. You want me to go down there, and you'll stay up here, alone." She looked at Termillion's expression. "I suppose it isn't worth it to argue." She sighed and flipped over the edge of the building, grabbing the wall below it. "Keep an eye on me, will you?" she said up to him. "I'm going to be more exposed."
"Nothing to fear," Termillion said. Hester disappeared from view, and a minute later he saw her walk down the street, hood up and cloak curled around her body.
Termillion rubbed his eyes and tracked her, keeping his head on a swivel. He opened up his senses, listening and looking in the shadows. He heard the rustle of a bird's feathers in the nest, and the typewriter clack of boot heels striking cobblestones, and whispers going from mouth to ear. He saw a rat perched on a barrel his nose told him was full of dust and dropping. He tasted a mug of ale, a piece of burnt bacon. He rubbed his fingers on the shingles next to him, and felt a body shift in a bed within the building.
Two months of good rest had done him well. He looked down the street and saw Hester approach a pub.
He focused the range of his senses, and heard the noise when the door opened. He felt the warm air rushing out, and smelled food and drink. Hester closed the door, and he heard her walk across the wooden floor. A scrape told him she had chosen a stool at the bar, and a moment later he heard the clink of a coin landing in front of her. A few moments later there was a heavy thud, and the sound of sloshing liquid.
He focused on the other people in the building. Two people were discussing a painting one had just completed, three more were going over their recent poems. Termillion rolled his eyes, then heard two people, a man and a woman, talking.
"Hessy thought she saw another one last night. Took her an hour to settle down. 'The Roofmen,' she calls them. Terrorists, I say," the woman said.
"I've seen three this week," the man said. "I keep expecting to hear about bodies lying in the street, or fires started, or something, but there's nothing. What are they doing here?"
"I seen their heads whipping back and forth. They're looking for something."
"My friend Frederich," the man said, keeping his voice low, as if it would help, "works in the council building. He says he hasn't even seen them. They're in the row for some reason."
"Looking for something they can only find here," the woman said.
As she said this, Termillion heard the sound of Hester walking. "Greetings," she said to the man and woman. He heard the sound of a few glasses landing on a table. "I work of the magistrate. I'm investigating Umbris actions in the row. Mind talking?"
The man and woman were quiet, but Termillion imagined them glancing at each other. During the short silence he turned his head, trying to see anything slinking along the rooftops. With his Umbris vision, even the darkest shadows appeared to shimmer with blue sparkles. The moon was as bright as the sun, and lamplight was like a lighthouse. "I suppose," the woman in the pub said. "Only if you tell us your name."
"Hester," she said without hesitating. There was a pause. "Contact the magistrate's office if you wish, but keep this between ourselves."
"You look like one of them," the man said.
"An Umbris?" Hester asked. She chuckled. Termillion swept his eyes across the buildings. "It's because I used to be one. It was a schism. I and plenty others fought the new leader, but she has a way to control people. To force them to follow her. Even if people did disagree, they have to keep quiet...or risk losing their minds."
"So...what do you want to know?" the man asked.
"How many times have you seen Umbris recently?" A short pause. "Have they been doing anything in particular. Anything."
The woman forced a cough. "Still a bit thirsty..."
Termillion could almost hear Hester's amused grin. "Fair enough." A minute later two clunks heralded the arrival of another round. "Please, start."
As if automatically, Termillion's head turned ninety degrees. He'd heard something, but he didn't know what it was. It was like the idea of a sound. He huddled in a shadow, crouched under an eave of the building next to the one he stood on. He concentrated on searching for the source of the sound, and then picked up the conversation again, keeping his eyes moving along the rooftops.
"...like boogeymen," the woman was saying. "My daughter will barely come out from under the covers until the sun comes up."
"But they haven't been doing anything?" Hester asked.
"Not that we can tell," the man said. "Not that we're fine with their presence. Think of the destruction they've caused: the clock tower, and then that orphanage. Those poor children. No parents, and then they lose what little home they have."
"I'd heard the magistrate has found a place for them," Hester said, keeping her tone conversational. "Somewhere outside the city."
"That's good, then," the woman said. Termillion heard her shift in her chair. "Why can't you just attack the Umbris compound and be done with it?"
Hester, and Termillion, laughed. "It would be a poor result," Hester said. "The Umbris are powerful, and now they follow the leader blindly, whether they want to or not. If the city attacked-"
Termillion heard another sound. He spun around but saw nothing.
He felt it. There was something watching him. "Something is near," he whispered. "It saw me."
His heart slowed, and the rush of sensation in his head ceased. "It's moved off. I'm going to follow it."
"I see," he heard Hester say, in response to both him, and something the man had said. "Anything else?"
"I guess we don't know much," the man said, as Termillion concentrated to find the path the Umbris soldier had taken. "Though, I did hear a name for them. Skota. It means shadow."
"Where did you hear such a thing?" Hester asked.
"When I was running my shop," the man said. "I sell art supplies. You know, paints, oils, chalk. A few people were talking. Not a bad name, I think. Poetic, in a way." Termillion rolled his eyes again, then leapt a level up, to a rooftop with a better few. He heard the rustle of smooth clothing far to his left, and felt feet pounding, growing farther away.
He jumped forward, hitting the roof and running, listening to his own feet strike the shingles and boards of the buildings under him.
It was the first time he had seen action since the orphanage. His wounds had healed, his mind and body were rested, and the inferno of the orphanage had tempered him into a weapon. The Skota he chased was dead, and had yet to find out.
He closed the distance quickly, his body exulting in the chance to fly. He leapt over streets and alleys thirty feet below him without looking down, and even tall vertical walls posed no challenge. He found he was smiling, until he realized he could perceive two other forms, the same shape and size as the first. Then his lips pulled back, and his eyes widened, and his smile turned into a leer. He was back in his city, and he would not allow these monsters to soil it.
The winter wind, far above the streets, picked up, dragging his heavy cloak behind him as he drove himself forward. The cloak still held the smell of numerous people's blood--his own, Hester's, Kayss', a nameless street thug, three dangerous skota like he now chased, even an innocent Umbris. He could smell it, if the wind was right, and it reminded him of a time not long passed when he held so much anger it was a miracle it did not spill out of his eyes.
The three skota spun, pointing their weapons toward him. He stood upright, looking down on them from a higher roof, hands curled into empty fists. His body shook with each breath. "Which one?" he said. He didn't care if they heard him.
"Do you want to know something funny?" he asked, in a louder voice. They kept their eyes on him and their weapons in his direction. Their feet shifted them around. "I've spent the last two months trying to get myself under control. To flush out the painful things I've seen and done. I butchered one of your tainted brothers," he said, spitting the word out. "I walked through an inferno, thinking your evil leader had taken away the one thing I still had left! I was ready to turn this entire city into the planet's greatest graveyard. I had to stop. I was becoming nothing more than a weapon who needed no wielder." He touched a spot near his heart, where he had placed Kayss' journal. "I locked it all away. And do you want to know the funny part, if you even have a capacity for humor anymore?"
He took a deep breath, and drew his cloak around him. He pictured Kayss succumbing to the fatal injury Ummi had dealt her, and watched her eyes slip shut after telling him I love you too. "It's so much harder locking it away than letting it free."
The first skota saw a flash of lightning approach, and then a knife cut its vision in half. The second leapt out of the way of a rune missile, sliding to a stop near the edge of the flat roof. The third jumped ahead, swinging its curved weapon. It cut through air when it expected to tear flesh, and then a boot struck it in the side.
Termillion swung his arm around, catching it in the throat and pulling it down with him as he fell to the level of the other two. It landed hard on its back as he rushed the other two skota. Honed knives found their way into his fists. He jumped in between the skota, spinning the knives in his hands and letting the wide grin flash.
The skota in front swung down, the skota behind threw the knife it had pulled out of its eye and stabbed forward with its weapon, the third skota flipped to its feet and attacked from his right with a diagonal cut down, right to left; Termillion shifted his body to the left, letting the dagger pass, struck the front skota's wrist with his fist and kicked it in the stomach, dropped and swung his leg through those of the skota behind, stood and got behind the attack of the final skota. He pushed it backward, nearly lifting it off its feet, and in a smooth motion seized the weapon from its hand and drove it into its stomach.
It fell, spurting blood, and he wiped his hands on his cloak as he turned around. "I'm supposed to catch one of you alive. But you know? I think I'll let the other live as well."
They charged, from the left and right. The left brought its weapon up from below, trying to catch him in the chest, and the right swung across, aiming for the neck.
They moved like dancers, fast motions made to look slow and lazy. Termillion found the gap between their blades and passed through, freeing a rune missile from a pocket. Before it could react, he slapped it on the upper arm of one of the skota, and the next second there was a crack. Its arm fell to the ground, and the odor of seared skin drifted from the cauterized wound. It let out a loud hiss, stumbling, and Termillion slapped another rune on the remaining arm. The same result left the dark monster unable to balance, and it fell forward onto its stomach.
The remaining skota ignored its wounded comrade, continuing the attack. It swung fast; each whisper of the blade through the air contained enough force to kill if it hit the correct spot.
Termillion played with it. He knocked the blows away, slowly pushing it toward the edge of the roof. The wind gusted and its heel slid over the gap. Termillion grabbed its arm and lifted it over his head. He threw it, and it landed on its back with a hard crunch. He plastered a rune missile across its face, and its body went numb and weak. He flipped it over and tore its shirt to make bindings for its wrists and ankles. He flipped it over again, and looked into its remaining eye. "I guess you're the lucky one." He punched it in the head and let it lie as he went to the armless skota, wriggling on the ground.
"You get to live," he said. "But I have a job for you." He pulled out a rune, and a pencil. "You're going to take a message to Ummi. Understand?" He didn't wait for an answer, scribbling quickly, then pulling the bandana off the skota's mouth and forcing its jaws apart by squeezing its cheeks. "A warning. I've activated this rune. Since I don't think you can even talk anymore, I've written the message directly on it. If you apply any pressure to it, it will explode. It's a small blast, really, but-" he shoved the piece of paper inside its mouth "-it doesn't need to be very big. Go to Ummi. You don't really have a choice in the matter, do you?" He looked at the stubs left over from its arms. "You don't."
It ran. Termillion returned to the numbed skota and hauled it to its feet. "You and I are going to visit the magistrate." He grinned. "So be on your best behavior."
He descended to the street, dragging the weakened body with him. He scaled down the building, keeping the skota suspended with one hand. When he touched the cold cobblestones he straightened his cloak, grabbed the skota's tied wrists, and began to drag it through the snow dusting the ground under his feet. Midnight strollers spotted him, standing aside and gazing. Termillion kept his eyes forward, even as the skota's numbness began to wear off and it started to struggle.
When he reached the pub, he kicked the door open, and felt the silent stare of every patron, the barmaid, and Hester. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was open, and she looked just as shocked as the six others at her table, empty glasses between them.
"One less bogeyman to haunt your nights," Termillion said, cutting through the silence. "I'm sorry. Three less. Hester." He lifted the struggling skota. "You and I have an appointment with Lissit."
Hester, burning under the stares, fled into the snow. Termillion remained inside for a moment, gazing around at the people watching him. Without a word, he turned and went back outside.
"Are you hurt?" Hester asked.
"They couldn't touch me," Termillion said.
"There were really three? You killed the other two?"
"One of them." Termillion shrugged. "Couldn't be helped."
"What happened to the last one?"
"Cut its arms off and shoved a message for Ummi in its mouth."
"What?!"
Ummi snapped her fingers, and the runes buried in its eyes burst the skota's head, flinging bone, blood, and brain around the room. Its armless body flopped to the ground. Ummi stared at it, feeling the wonderful effects of anger. With a light touch she wished she could use to crush, she looked at the message the skota had held in its open mouth all the way back to the Umbris compound. Get out of my city.
"Contact Mesthum," she said to one of the un-changed Umbris standing near her. The man wished he could wipe the gore off his shirt, but knew to wait until Ummi was out of the room. "Tell him to come and see me immediately. Tell him he does not have a choice. Actually, tell him he does have a choice, and tell him about the choice this thing chose." She pointed at the headless, armless skota, and then walked out of the room.
"Thank you for waiting," Magistrate Lissit said, allowing Termillion and Hester to enter her study.
"Sorry for waking you," Hester said.
"No need to apologize," Lissit said. "It isn't so uncommon. I may not be running along rooftops at midnight, but I've watched my share of sunrises. So this is one of the skota, is it?"
"You know the name?" Termillion asked. He threw the skota on its stomach and placed his foot on its back. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"It's a recent piece of information," Lissit said. She bent, placing on knee on the carpet next to the skota. She rubbed a finger on its arm. "Ugh. Like it's made of oil. It's male?"
"Can't tell," Termillion said. "I've fought almost ten of them, and they all look the same. Small, shriveled half-humans who do Ummi's bidding whether they want to or not. They're fast, and strong, but single-minded. They can't plan ahead and they can't strategize. She's ensuring their allegiance to her but weakening them. Look here." He flipped it onto its back, applying pressure on its throat with his knee. "In the eyes. It looks like it could be at the back. One of her runes."
"Hester, I hate to bring up painful memories, but how did she etch the runes onto you?" Lissit asked, looking at the runes, tilting her head one direction and then another, to see them from every angle.
"A special tool," Hester said. "Like a knife. If she pressed hard enough on my skin, she could draw the rune. Very painful. It felt like a tattoo, but the pain never went away."
"So how could she draw them onto the back of the eye like this?"
"I can't say for sure, but I may have a clue," Hester said. She looked at Termillion. "While you were fighting, I was posing the right questions. Ummi's agents--regular Umbris, not these things--have been going around artist's row and trying to find a certain kind of material. A chalk, made from a mixture of crushed lapis lazuli, pearl, and fine rosewood shavings. I know for a fact it isn't the same material she used to engrave the runes on me. It could be for the skota, or something else."
"So if she has regular Umbris on the street, why does she need these things searching all night?" Lissit asked.
"It's because of us," Termillion said. "That's what it seems to me. The normal Umbris shop, just like any other artist, and the skota run around at night. We come here drawn by skota sightings, and then..."
"And then what?" Hester asked.
He looked at Lissit. "Was it ever determined how Ummi found out we were staying at the orphanage?"
Lissit shook her head. "There were no hostages, and my agents found nothing."
"She wanted to make sure she knew when we were investigating. The Umbris in the row are doing something uncritical, something she didn't mind us knowing about." Termillion looked down and shifted his weight onto the skota's throat. "I don't suppose you'd care to spill your guts, would you? Of course not."
"Was it to trap us?" Hester asked. "Did she just want us dead?"
"Undoubtedly," Lissit said. She paced around the study. "It doesn't take a mind reader to know Ummi has a grudge against you. The question to come back to, though, is why she would try to lead you to the same area her agents are searching."
"Maybe she's just an idiot," Termillion said. He was looking at the skota under his boot. "Maybe she didn't realize we would figure it out."
"After all the planning and foresight she had for her takeover," Hester said, taking him in, "do you really think she's so stupid?"
He hesitated. "No. Not stupid." He hunted for the right word. "Foolhardy. Proud. She thinks there's nothing we can do to stop her plans." He smiled, and applied more pressure on the skota's throat. It began to wriggle. "But there's always a way."
"Off," Lissit said, pushing him. "This is my prisoner." She rang the pull-cord behind her desk, the same one Termillion had cut with a knife two months before, and a moment later her assistant entered. "Have the guards take...this...to the dungeon. And bring in some refreshments, please."
When the skota was gone, and a tray of tea placed on the table they sat around, Lissit sipped at her cup and produced a bundle of papers. "The city is sitting on a razor's edge," she said, looking from Termillion to Hester. "It's a powder keg--the worst kind. If an Umbris or a skota kills a loving father or innocent child, the city will explode at Ummi. If the city encroaches the compound too much, or Ummi thinks we're pushing her too much, she might send out her own forces. If either happens, we'll get a civil war, riots in the streets, or assassinations by the dozens. You two know better than I how dangerous a few Umbris with a goal in mind can be. I need to figure out a way to defuse this before hundreds are dead." She sighed. "I haven't even given the authorization to announce Ummi's sentence. I'm afraid that will be enough." She stood up and began pacing again. "It's why I need you two."
Termillion watched her pace. She looked even older than she was. "There's no way Ummi doesn't know we're working for you," Hester said.
"With you."
Lissit glanced at Termillion. "Be that as it may, you still have skills, experience, and knowledge far beyond anyone else working against Ummi. If we're lucky, she doesn't know you're still in the city."
Hester laughed. "She certainly knows. Every time Termillion defeats a skota, he leaves her a taunting message. Trust me, she knows."
Termillion glared at Hester, but Lissit looked at Termillion. "Is this true?"
He shrugged. "True enough."
"Taunting messages..." Lissit was looking out a dark window. "An interesting idea."
Termillion raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"I have never loved a decree more," Termillion said, looking over the room of sleepy scribes.
"Unofficial decree," Lissit said. "It's only the first step. I haven't passed this with the council, so if it doesn't work I'm in trouble. That also means you're in trouble, by the way."
Hester, standing next to Termillion, yawned. "I've had my assistant prepare rooms for you," Lissit said to them. "Get a few hours sleep. I'll have some lunch sent in--meet me in my study at noon."
As soon as they left the scribe room, Termillion's face fell. Hester recognized the new expression; it was the same one he'd had after leaving the burning orphanage two months ago. "Termillion..."
"I just need a moment to myself," he said. He leaned against a wall, next to a window. Early-morning light spilled in, and it reminded him of the morning Kayss had died. "Something Lissit said. A loving father or an innocent child."
Hester remembered the magistrate talking about what might happen to ignite a civil war. "I can talk to her if you want," Hester said. "Tell her you-"
Termillion waved his hand. He waited. "It used to be easy. I turned it all into anger. And then the orphanage."
"Lissit saved the body," Hester said. "Ummi couldn't get to it."
"My actions destroyed what little home the orphans had. Your friend Katherine died in the blaze. It spread to other homes. It was my fault."
"I told you before--Ummi ordered the blaze. It's her fault. Where else were we to go? Continue hiding in a tiny room with your daughter's corpse in the corner?"
Termillion looked out the window. "I suppose not."
Hester yawned again. "I need my sleep," she said. "And so do you."
"I will," he said. "I need to visit someone first."
Hester watched him lean against the window, looking at the rising sun. "Do you want me to come with you?"
He looked over his shoulder, then back at the window. He almost answered yes. "Not this time. It will give me a little time to read." He patted the journal, tucked inside his cloak.
"Don't be out too long. Old dogs need their sleep," she said. She hesitated, then embraced him lightly, putting her right arm around his body from the back and pressing her head against his shoulder. Before he could push her away she detached and headed for the room Lissit had prepared for her.
Still no answer from the magistrate's office, the journal read. He was sitting a foot from her gravestone. It was a large one, befitting her adult status, though it bore a false name and date to prevent Ummi from finding it again. The city's largest cemetery was already growing busy, so soon after dawn, but it was quiet. I didn't think they would be able to respond quickly. They must be busy, after all.
He stretched his neck up, rubbing it and looking at the clear sky. He'd read a few day's worth since finding his daughter's resting place. Most of it was day-to-day events, worries about the Umbris trials. A great deal of wonder about the boys in her life. Termillion was a little surprised at himself for not realizing how popular she was. When she was with him, she was all business--serious, almost emotionless.
The next section of the journal contained one of its many explanations why: Termillion has been ramping up my training sessions. It's been exhausting, and he knows it, but I refuse to let it show. I won't give him a reason to doubt me, or himself. I've been staying up all night to practice shadowwalking, and so when it comes to morning training, I'm usually too tired to complain anyway. I'll try to catch a nap in the afternoon, but then it's back to work.
It's been getting easier. All the practice has worn some sort of groove in my mind. I'm able to slip into a relaxed state easier and easier. I was able to shadowwalk three times last night. I got so excited each time it took an hour to calm back down. There're about three weeks until the trials. I know if I practice long enough, I'll be able to do it even when everybody is watching me. Even when TERMILLION is watching me.
Termillion sighed, and closed the book. A groove in my mind, he repeated. Like my anger. It got easier and easier. Until I lived there.
He recalled the way he had thought and acted--even the way he had stood, or walked. Implacable. Murderous. Hard and pointed, like a thrown spear, and damn where it lands. On a villain or an innocent child. Quivering in a body, or through the window of a home, setting the building ablaze and burning people who'd spent their lives taking care of the least fortunate.
He stood and looked down at his daughter's grave. The last time he had looked down at her grave, Hester's friend Katherine had told him something. "If we could all love the children like you, Termillion, there would be no need for orphanages," he said to himself.
He slipped Kayss' journal inside his cloak, and took a long, steadying breath, filling himself up and then emptying himself out. He arranged his cloak properly. It felt heavy, and hot, despite the cool temperatures around him. He left the cemetery, slipping back to the magistrate's building while keeping an eye and ear open for anyone following him.
He got to his room undisturbed. It was little more than a closest, with a rumpled cot and a chair for guests. He removed his cloak and let it pile in the corner, then sat on the cot. It wheezed under him. A groove in my mind.
He imagined the surface of his brain, and pictured a channel across it, away from the frazzling energy and pumping worry. He tried to settle into it, but he was too big. He shrank himself, mentally, away from the awakening city, and rising sun. Away from the barely-contained civil war between armored soldiers and warriors cloaked in shadows. Away from monsters with glowing eyes, and women who wanted to crush him in her remaining hand.
The groove contained a great deal, however. Memories of spending time with Kayss, or her mother. Watching Kayss grow from a little girl into a beautiful young woman, or watching her mother's belly grow larger through a window. Witnessing Kayss shadowwalk for the first time, to the amazement of Termillion, Ummi, Master Gos, and everyone else in attendance.
He remembered her mother pulling him out of his chair in the pub to dance. He remembered the first time Kayss had struck him with a training sword, hard enough to make him see stars. He remembered looking where her dying mother was pointing to see her, huddled so far in a shadow he could barely see, while a riot raged around him. Torches threw shadows like knives, and every few moments her eyes would glint with fire. She was stuck in a tight angle between two buildings, and after he had carried her mother to a patch of grass, he had crouched in front of the cowering girl.
She was only four years old. He knew, because he was there the day she was born, ready to burst into her home and carry her to Mesthum if something went wrong. He'd taken his hood down and looked his daughter in the eye for the first time, even as she had shied away from him. The madness of the riot was frightening her.
He'd taken out a rune and activated it. It had glowed a soft blue. The sound around them began to die away, until it was quiet. He held the piece of paper out to her, and she had taken it.
She was in his arms then, and he was leaping over rooftops toward the Umbris compound. She'd fallen asleep in his arms.
Termillion, nearly lulling himself to sleep with his own memories, shifted in the chair and rubbed his face to try and stay awake.
"You look like you didn't sleep a wink," Hester said a few hours later. "You didn't, did you?"
"Didn't even try," Termillion said. "More important things than sleep in this world."
"Not for much longer if you keep that up." They were eating in the magistrate's study. Sandwiches, heavy bowls of soup, fresh vegetables and fruit, and the magistrate's favorite tea was in front of both of them. "How is she?"
"Good," Termillion said. "She goes by the name 'Eryn Urch' now."
"Urch? Like...urchin?"
"A bit on the nose, but it's an easy name to remember." Termillion spooned soup into his mouth. He sighed, emptying himself out. Just for a moment, he eased himself into the groove of happy memories, then picked up his spoon and continued eating.
"Good to see you both rested," Lissit said when she entered. "My scribes have been working since the sun came up. They have about a thousand leaflets at the moment. I heard them laughing themselves silly with the insults they came up with."
Termillion nodded. "As much as I love the path you've taken, are you sure this will work?"
"Sure? Of course not," Lissit said. She picked up a cup of tea and drank. "But it's the best idea yet, and evidence from yourself seems to indicate she'll do something stupid and give us an opening."
"And if she doesn't?" Hester asked.
"Then we think of something else."
"How long will it take before you send us to kill her?" Termillion asked.
"When it's the very last thing to try," the magistrate said, sitting at a third chair around the table. "When not doing so results in this city burning down. For now-" she sipped her tea "-we send insults."
"They've been able to write the rune properly?" Termillion asked. She nodded.
"Not without some mistakes, of course. Apparently a small change in one of the quadrants makes it fly so fast the paper disintegrates." Termillion raised his eyebrows. "But they've got it now. Tonight, countless slips of paper bearing your rune will descend on the Umbris compound, each one bearing a different insult for Ummi." The magistrate leaned back in her chair and grinned. "What a wonderful idea."
"It's definitely...unique," Hester said. She had her hands clasped in front of her. "But what do we do after that? She isn't going to turn herself in because of a few childish barbs."
"It's one part insulting her, one part demoralizing the Umbris, and one part trying to trick her into playing her hand. It's clear: if we can capture or kill Ummi, this all goes away. The city...well, it doesn't go back to normal, but the threat of war is gone." Lissit looked at Termillion. "My offer still stands. The Umbris will be yours to do with as you wish."
Termillion nodded. "Cross that bridge when we come to it, I think," he said.
They spent hours planning. A few hours after sunset the scribes, guards, and everyone else in the building began to fling runed letters out the windows, watching them spin away into the night toward the Umbris compound. Lissit, Hester, and Termillion each added a few of their own to the assault of paper, and settled back to watch.
Termillion would have payed to watch Ummi learn about the messages. As it was, he returned to his room and continued reading Kayss' journal. There was little of importance, just notes about each day as they slipped past: what he had been training her in, her growing anxiety about the Umbris trials, he continued shadowwalking skill. He smiled, recalling again his amazement at watching her disappear into the darkness and appear behind him, only to turn sideways and take her place back in the arena, smiling under her hood.
He remembered when Kayss had caught him as he fell from the breaking clock tower, shadowwalking through the sunrise, to the rooftop where Ummi would stab her.
He shook his head, taking a deep breath. He cast the memory away, drawing up a better one. He remembered when Kayss was finally old enough to have one-on-one tutoring, and how he nearly begged Master Gos for the opportunity. None of his other students had succeeded, but he knew she would. He remembered the joy when Master Gos had given his approval, and the joy in Kayss' face when he had told her.
Still nothing from the magistrate's office, Kayss had written, a date about two weeks before her trials. I'm trying not to think about it. I finally snuck out last night to try and shadowwalk farther than just around my room. I had to keep to the shadows so nobody would catch me after curfew...nobody caught me so I feel pretty good about it. I was able to shadowwalk a hundred meters. I should try a farther distance next time, but it has to be somewhere I've seen. I wonder if I could get over the walls? I haven't spent much time outside the compound, but I seen a little bit. I bet I could do it.
I can't wait to beat my trials. I know I will. Termillion believes in me, and so do I. When I do, I'll have Termillion take me all over the city. If I'm right and he is my father, I bet I'll be able to get details about my mother out of him.
Clever girl, Termillion thought. He bent to keep reading, but heard running feet about to stop at his door. He shot out of the chair and reached for a knife, before remembering he had taken his cloak off again. He heard a quick knock, and opened the door to find Hester.
"Skota on the move," she said. "They're headed here. Practically an army of them."
"She can't be serious," Termillion said, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. It felt so heavy. "Is she so insecure she'll start a civil war just because of insults?"
"We know she would," Hester said. "But we don't really know what she has planned yet. It could be a diversion, or a trick."
"If it's the skota, it won't be," Termillion said. He joined Hester in the hallway as two armored soldiers hurried past. "They're mindless."
"Mindless and dangerous," Hester said. "It will be up to us to keep the tide from turning against the magistrate. She's already been moved to a safe location and left us in charge of the defense."
"Politicians for you," Termillion said. Knives jumped into his hands. "Let's have at them, then."
"We can't take so many on our own. Even with shadowwalking, they'll bury us under their forces. They won't even have to fight very hard. We need a plan."
"I have a plan," Termillion said. "It's written on these." He pulled a rune missile out of his cloak with a flourish. "Let them hear the words."
"Very nice," Hester said, lowering his hand. "The rest of us don't have those."
"You won't need them. I'll just-"
"Sir!"
Hester and Termillion turned around. A guard captain stood behind them. He looked at Termillion. "The Umbris have stopped advancing. A man appeared from among them and demanded he speak with you."
Termillion and Hester glanced at each other. "Did you recognize him?"
"I...no sir, I didn't. It is difficult. His body is covered with glowing symbols."
Hester gasped. "Where is he?" Termillion asked.
"The front gate. He'll only speak with you."
Termillion nodded and turned, heading toward the front. Hester hurried after him. She made two steps for each of his.
"I don't like this," she said as they hurried. "Why would Ummi send someone to talk with us when she already has the advantage in numbers and skill?"
Without answering, Termillion pushed through the tall double-doors from the hallway into the lobby. Several dozen soldiers, shields and swords in hand, made way for them. Two of them pulled open the doors leading outside, and Termillion led the way. He enhanced his vision, and saw a hundred figures standing on rooftops against the glowing blue sky.
"So which one of you wants to talk?" Termillion said, throwing his voice forward with all the strength he could muster. "I'm here. Let us talk."
A figure lurched forward, into the area of light from the building. "No." Hester put her hand over her mouth. Termillion felt the air suck out of his lungs. The figure was covered in glowing sigils, like Hester had been months ago when Ummi had control over her. Its head was shaved. Any bare skin glowed. Blood ran in miniscule streams down its arms, legs, and chest, flowing constantly from each and every sigil. It stumbled forward, and Termillion nearly leapt forward to catch it. It steadied itself.
"Termillion," Mesthum said. The word seemed unfamiliar to his mouth. "As you can see, I have the upper hand." Each syllable marched after the other, like on an assembly line. "If only I had found your little girl's corpse, then maybe you would have seen her empty body march against you, instead of this doctor."
His vision swam. He wondered if he was going to vomit. He almost sank to his knees. Mesthum continued speaking. "Here is your decision. Battle your friend, kill him, and the skota will return back to me. Let him live, or take longer than three minutes to kill him, and the skota attack. You, and that bitch you're working with perish under my army, and I take control. Which will it be? And before Hester does anything, the skota are programmed to attack if you try to help. So sit down and watch like a good little girl."
"Termillion..." Hester said.
He sucked breath in, filling himself. He imagined his daughter telling Ummi off as the woman began her coup. He imagined her sitting at her desk when she should be sleeping, writing about him in her journal, and he pressed his hand against it.
"Mesthum! Are you in there?" he shouted. Mesthum didn't move. "I'm sorry, Mesthum. I know you must be in pain. Don't worry. It will end soon."
He flowed forward, flinging knives for what he figured would be an immediate kill. Instead, Mesthum stepped out of the way, sigils glowing brighter, and a painful sound escaped his lips. Termillion was on him, swiping with two more knives.
Mesthum dove his arms forward, bludgeoning Termillion in the chest. He took a step back, then whipped a rune missile at his friend. It struck Mesthum in the stomach, too quick to dodge, and tiny yellow lightning bolts flashed from limb to limb. Mesthum threw his head back and screamed, but didn't fall. Termillion fired another dagger, aiming for Mesthum's exposed throat.
He caught it between two fingers. Termillion's eyes went wide. Mesthum had no such skill. He should be dead already.
Mesthum threw the dagger toward Termillion, who rolled out of the way. "Resist, Mesthum!"
"Can't!" Mesthum said, gasping, ejecting the word like an arrow from a bow. "The pain!"
"I just need a moment, that's all!" Termillion said. "Resist!"
Mesthum grit his teeth. For a moment, his limbs slowed. Termillion thrust himself forward, knife leading, and punctured Mesthum's lung.
The strength went from their bodies, and they fell together. Mesthum began to cough up blood before his knees struck the cobblestones. "Thank you," Mesthum wheezed. "Ummi...tricked...no choice. Sorry. So sorry." He coughed again, spitting out enough blood to soak Termillion's cloak. "Made me...where you were staying. The orphanage. My fault."
"Ummi's fault," Termillion said. He held his friend, like he had held his daughter, and her mother. "Ummi's fault."
"Punctured lung," Mesthum said. His eyes were slipping closed. "Seal the wound. Quickly. Save her."
Termillion felt a wave pass through him. "What?" Mesthum pointed past him. He spun, expecting to see Ummi, or Kayss, or Lissit. He saw Hester, kneeling, the knife Mesthum had thrown in her chest.
"No!" He pushed up, running back to her. "Help! Help!" He nearly tore his voice. He slid next to her. She was already coughing blood. "Something to seal the wound!" he shouted to himself. "No!" She tried to grab his hand, and an idea sprang out. "Lie down." He tore off her cloak and began to undo her shirt. "To the skin," he told her as he brought out a blank piece of paper. He dipped his finger in her blood and began to draw. He summoned every tiny bit of knowledge he had accumulated about his unique method of battle, making the perfect lines, and loops, and shapes. His hand became stained with blood. She tore her clothes, exposing the wound, above her breast, coughing all the while. He pulled the knife out and pressed the rune against her skin in one motion, pressing it down. The rune activated, and glued itself to the surface of her chest. It soaked through with blood. She tried to breathe in, and his heart jumped as the rune held tight.
Soldiers appeared. Someone picked Hester up and carried her inside. It took a moment for Termillion to realize it was him.
I'm prepared for the worst. I'm prepared to learn something I didn't want to know.
Termillion looked up. Hester slept. Doctors had tended her, doing what they could. "A miracle her lung hadn't collapsed," they said. He had saved her life. Bandages encircled her chest. She coughed periodically, and her face crinkled with pain.
His head fell, and his eyes pointed at Kayss' journal again. He felt like he was floating. I got a response from the magistrate's office. It's sitting next to my elbow as I write. I haven't opened it yet.
Hester groaned, and Termillion's head snapped up. She settled back to sleep, face frozen halfway through a cough. Her mouth and face were stained with dry blood. Termillion raised his hand and moved it toward her, then stopped. He again looked at the journal. I've been waiting for this for weeks. Now finally it's here and I can't bring myself to open it. It has the official seal of the magistrate and everything. But...likely it's just a copied note saying they didn't have any records. I'm just a Streetchild, rescued from the riots that took my mother. I'm lucky Termillion found me, and showed me a life I could love. Showed me love. He is my father, whether it's written on the piece of paper next to my elbow or not.
Termillion began to ache. He slipped a hand over his eyes, not wanting to stain the journal. His other hand curled into a fist, and he pounded his leg. I was! I was! I loved you! I loved you more than I love myself! Watching you die broke me into a hundred pieces! It's taken me so long to put myself back together, and the one person who was always there to keep me from falling apart again struggles to breathe!
He wiped his face and looked at Hester. Her chest rose slowly and slightly.
He stood up from his bedside post. It was sometime during the night. The skota had all moved away, back to their black mistress. His cloak was hanging in the corner of the room, Mesthum and Hester's blood drying on it, making it heavier. The room smelled of medicine, bandages, cleansing fluids, and Hester's bloody breath.
He leaned against the dark window. A candle flickered on a table next to Hester, and he was in shadow. He tried to throw the foul away and dredge up the good. He looked for a memory powerful enough, glorious enough to help him slip into the groove in his mind. There was nothing.
He was thinking about Ummi. He pictured her eyebrows knitted together, frowning, as always. He pictured her planning everything, etching sigils onto Hester or Mesthum, or corrupting the Umbris to make them unthinking, mindless warriors of shadow and smoke. He pictured her chasing him to the clock tower, where he hid with his daughter. He pictured her sending Hester to kill him against her will.
He pictured her killing Kayss.
He pressed his head against the window. Maybe it would shatter. He felt himself coming apart. His fists rested against the wall. The pieces he had slowly attached during two long months were falling away, leaving him with a face unable to shift and change, unable to smile, unable to vary in approach, striding forward with knives in hand and blood-heavy cloak flaring behind him. Killing anyone too close.
Mesthum was dead by his hand. Hester fought for her life. He had no one else. He went back to watching his daughter die in his arms, and he was a moment from throwing himself out the window.
The memory continued. Kayss jumped in front of Ummi, taking the blade meant for him. Termillion had cut off Ummi's hand, severing the control she had over Hester and driving Ummi away. He had crawled to Kayss, begging it not to be so, and turned her over. Her blood stained his cloak.
She had coughed out blood holding her hands to her stomach, and called him dad. She had said I love you too.
His heart shattered and reformed a hundred times in a moment. I love you too. The most wonderful thing you can hear. The greatest possible sound. His heart stopped shattering. He had shown her love, and loved her. She had loved him too. He felt no greater joy than this, knowing the person he had dedicated his life to protecting understood, and responded in kind.
He turned around and looked at Hester. She would have to rest. They would return to the orphanage. He hadn't slept in days; he would sleep on the carriage ride outside the city. There would be plenty of time. Lissit might not enjoy it, but it was his choice. What could she possible do to stop him? There was no one left to kill.
"I understand," Lissit said. They sat in her study, across the table. Lissit had a cup of tea in her hands. His were clamped between his legs. His head was bowed, looking at them. "You need time. You have it. Do you remember my earlier request?"
He looked up. "Help you find Ummi."
"No, the other. Watch over the children. I'm sure nothing terrible has happened in your brief absence, but they could use a strong defender. You know the house you're in used to be my family's home? Decades ago, when I was a girl. So far. It's barely within the city limits. There are some ancient treasures there. Thieves have tried to get in more than once. Lots of little treasures to protect."
Termillion frowned. "My family wasn't perfect," the magistrate continued. "My father especially. He was an angry man. He never hurt me, or any of my siblings, but he hit my mother a few times. He was also...so upset with himself. He would fall to his knees before her, asking for her forgiveness. An incredible father. He taught me so much about life, love, strength, weakness. Not flawless, no, no. Not flawless...but perfect. Children need a father, Termillion. I hurt for children who grow up without one. Like those children at the orphanage. I ask you to go and watch over them, Termillion, and I will consider you greater than I if even one of them lives a happy life."
The carriage bounced down the bumpy road, out of the hectic cobblestone streets and onto the dirt lanes of the country. Termillion watched empty fields pass with each landing horse hoof. Hester, resting in a cocoon of cushions and blankets, had her head in Termillion's lap. She was asleep, and would likely be unable to fend for herself for several weeks.
Gentle snow fell on the steaming horses, and the roof of the carriage. It was evening; they'd left the city the evening before, the two drivers switching to let the other rest. Soon the orphanage would come into view, nestled inside the large grove of trees the magistrate had grown up in, at the top of a hill.
Termillion, one hand around Hester's while she slept, turned the page in Kayss' journal. Tomorrow. I'll open it tomorrow. The day of my trials. The day I become a fully-cloaked Umbris. The day I astound them with shadowwalking. The day I become swift darkness, ready to...
What will I do? Termillion has said there are many things Umbris are in charge of. Policing. Peace-keeping. He found me during the plague riots almost fifteen years ago, he tells me he was there to stop the worst of humanity from surfacing. They keep watch during the night. He also said sometimes they've acted as soldiers or spies during war. How exciting!
I know whatever I do I will excel. Am I being prideful? Perhaps I am. One of the sins that have sucked people down. Am I being confident? Because Termillion is confident in me, and I have worked hard enough to AFFORD confidence. I could close my eyes and appear on the other side of the compound a moment later. It will, of course, be different when everyone has their eyes on me.
Where will I go? I should decide before-hand. Somewhere I am familiar with, to make the chance of error as low as possible. Somewhere I feel comfortable. I want to WANT to go there.
So many questions. One more day.
There was only one entry left in the journal. The last day she had the chance to write in it. Her last day alive.
Termillion hoisted Hester out of the carriage and into the orphanage. Briten and the others met them inside, and they quickly got Hester to her bed. After an explanation of the relevant events, and what they would have to do to care for her, Termillion made his way back to the lobby, pointing himself toward his room. Several of the children were there, having seen Hester's bandaged form. A few of them pushed one of the older boys forward when Termillion appeared. "Sir?"
"How are you, Isaac?"
"Well, sir. We're glad you're back." He coughed. "Will Miss Hester be all right?"
There was a brief moment when Termillion felt the weight of his lover, their daughter Kayss, and Mesthum in his arms. He looked down at the boy, wondering if he would have to hold his small body in the same way. He wondered if he would have to bury his single remaining friend like he had buried his daughter. He wondered if he would have to watch this place, like the old orphanage and like his life, go up in flames.
"She may. She is greatly hurt. The doctors have seen to her, and she is sleeping peacefully now. She will need to rest for quite some time."
It came to him, suddenly. Isaac, standing with the other children, was but a few years younger than Kayss. He, and the other children, were still looking at Termillion, waiting for more assurance. He crouched, coming more in line with the boy. "You seem strong, Isaac. Will you help Hester? Even when she gets better, she will need help walking, and carrying things. It will be some time before she is back to normal. I won't always be able to be there for her. Can I trust you?"
The boy stuck out his chest. "Yes sir."
The cold sun sank, and the building grew dark. Children ran up and down the halls, keeping themselves warm until dinner, which was fresh bread, and good stew. Termillion ate it with joy, then helped Hester take some. She was awake, but weak and tired, and she fell asleep soon after Termillion brought Isaac in and explained how he would assist her. He returned to his room after listening to Briten list a few projects needing his help: A corner of the roof was leaking, one of the steps to the second floor had loose tiles, and the lower bath's mirror was loose and liable to fall. He told her he would begin work in the morning.
He opened the journal to the last entry. Here we are.
I opened it. Under my mother's name it says Kressa Goodhome. Under my father's name it says nothing. It is blank.
I realized something last night, trying to fall asleep. An Umbris has many tasks, but only one goal: protect. Keep people safe during the night. Keep enemy soldiers away from the city. Bring orphans to a safe place if you find them in the middle of a riot, and raise them up to someone you can be proud of.
Termillion has done all of that. He found me, and taught me, and kept me safe. There is nothing listed as my father's name but there is no clearer father in my life. I am Termillion's child, Kayss Goodhome, and he has given me a good home.
Tears appeared, dotting into the pages. He covered his eyes and wept.
Minutes later his eyesight cleared--his vision was still a jumbled mass of memories, and it took him longer until he was able to continue reading.
I've figured out something else. I know where I will go when I perform for the tutors during my third trial. Somewhere I WANT to want to go. I will appear by Termillion's side, by my father's side. Somewhere comfortable, somewhere I feel safe. Somewhere I know nothing bad will happen. Somewhere I want to go. By Termillion, the man who has given me a good home.
Termillion turned the page, expecting emptiness. Instead, he found a faded, wrinkled, nearly-disintegrating rune. The same one he had handed to Kayss at the riot, to wipe away the chaos.
He closed the journal and pushed it away from him on the desk. He was done weeping. His goal was clear. It was all clear. He sat alone and settled into a groove of fine memories, listing for himself all the moments Kayss might have been able to look back on and enjoy. He felt her love, and her happiness, and her comfort, and they filled him up. Sealed the cracks, plugged the leaking holes. He felt healthy. He felt warm. He smiled, and pulled the journal closer, opening it to the first page.
Before he bent down to read, his door flew open, and he surged up. Isaac stood in the doorway, as white as the snow falling outside. "There are people coming!" he said, and Termillion heard the fear struggling to mute him. "They have torches and swords!"
Termillion looked into the corner for a moment, then nodded. "Go to Hester and tell her. Wake her up if you have to. Make sure all the caretakers and children know."
The boy fled, and Termillion walked to where his cloak hung. His arm strained when he picked it up. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Our final night together," he said to it as he pulled it over his shoulders. He raised the hood.
How can it be so heavy? he wondered. He shifted, and the folds clinked together. He chuckled, and began to unload the contents. A dozen knifes landed on his bed, points glittering, and nearly a hundred small slips of paper, both empty and covered in ink, joined them. The cloak became a great deal lighter, but it still wanted to pull his shoulders down.
He grabbed the door to swing it shut, but stopped. He looked back at the desk in his room, walked to it, picked up the journal, and slipped it inside a pocket of his cloak, against his heart.
Entering the tall, cold lobby of the building, he found the children and the caretakers. Briten strode toward him. "We're ready to evacuate if we need to, but there's nowhere to run," she said. "In the fields they can catch all of us."
He nodded. "They won't get to you," he said. "I promise." Without another word he went through the front door and found what must have been a hundred dark cloaks, illuminated in circles of flickering torchlight. Many of them had blue sigils burning on their exposed skin. White snow drifted down in small dots. He stepped across the thin snow on the ground until he was close enough to the one-handed woman who led the crowd.
"It's about time you showed your face!" Ummi shouted. "Where's your whore? Is she too tired to come out and see the guests?" When Termillion said nothing, she continued. "I figured I should end this, finally. You've had your fun. Sending me little notes every time you dispatched one of my underlings. Quite weak, weren't they? It's an imperfect science, I'm afraid. It will be easier when I have some younger subjects."
Termillion's eyes widened. Ummi saw, and her grin stretched from ear to ear. "It was just bad luck Lissit came across us when we were at the other one, or this would all be different. I would have an army of tiny hellions, unable to deny my wishes. Well, a few months makes no difference. Move aside, old dog, and make this easier for everyone. I promise to give the woman a quick death."
He slipped into the groove. He remembered the first time he'd hugged Kayss. The first time she had smiled at him. The first time they had sparred, the first time she had struck him. He swelled with pride, remembering her astounding Master Gos and the tutors with unmatched ability. He remembered fatherly pride fill him, even when he thought she didn't know.
But she did know, thank God, thank the sea and the sky and the moon she knew. She loved him too. The most wondrous sound--I love you too--filled his ears, and he smiled.
"Go," he said, soft like the falling snow. "Leave this place. It is under my protection. I will not allow you to harm anyone within."
"You and what army?" Ummi shouted. "As you can see, I have my own, but where is yours? Idiot! What can you do?"
He sank into the groove, hoping to never leave. He opened his eyes, and he was half a foot from Ummi, who was reeling backward. His limbs flashed out, knocking her foot back, dropping her to a knee, and slapping her hand away.
"This old dog has learned a new trick," he said. "But you are still a bitch. I repeat myself. This place is under my protection. I will not allow you to harm anyone inside."
Ummi snarled and shoved herself away, falling over. She scrambled up. "Kill him! Toss his body into the magistrate's bedroom to show her what is coming for her!"
Termillion retreated through the shadows as the Umbris footsoldiers charged. His cloak, free of the weight of his weapons, churned around him. He would add no blood to it.
The first one tried to run him through with a sword, and he shifted to the side, grabbing his wrist and twisting the weapon out of it. He kicked down the Umbris' knee and tossed him down the slope, through the snow. The second overextended; all he had to do was slam his elbow into her nose and kick, shoving her onto her back with blood spilling down her face.
The third swung, but somehow missed hitting Termillion by an inch. Termillion dispatched him with a blow to the face and the legs. Another rose up behind him, but a moment passed and Termillion hammered his hand into the back of the man's neck. Two more appeared, and their swords passed through thin air. He flowed from one to the other, getting them down to their knees, then their backs, then picked up their weapons and shoved them into the ground, to the hilt.
"Kill him! Kill him!" Ummi's face looked like is was about to burst. She pointed her sword forward. "Attack!"
Termillion spread his footing on the wet snow. Ummi's army looked up the hill at him, and didn't move. "He isn't even using his runes, you lazy cowards! Kill him!" Ummi's voice took on a hint of pleading, and a few blue runes glowed hotter. The people connected to them gritted their teeth and shut their eyes, feeling pain flow into their bodies, and they began to step forward.
Termillion watched them approach. Fear pushed them from both directions.
He put his hood down. Snow got in his black, gray-flecked hair, and melted on his thin cheeks and stubble. He pulled his cloak off, revealing long, lean arms, strengthened from years of climbing and fighting. His hands, gnarled and bulky, curled into fists.
The closest Umbris got one of them in her diaphragm as Termillion shadowwalked up to her. He darted away, landing a kick upside another's nose. He shadowwalked behind another one, planted a foot in front of his, and then turned him on his head. He returned to the top of the hill, reviewing his work.
"Why do I let any of you live?!" Ummi howled. She squeezed her right hand, and a wave of pain washed over the Umbris behind her. "Kill him, kill him now! Or I will detonate every one of your heads!"
A few charged forward, blood hot, swords raised. This time, Termillion let them get close. The first feinted to the right, swinging her sword at the same time. Termillion stepped backward, then shadowwalked to her side, yanking the sword out of her hand. He stomped on her shin, punched her across the face, and then backhanded her. She fell, and another replaced her. This one was younger, and he didn't even have to shadowwalk, just step away and twist the young man's arm at the elbow. He heard a snap, and the man screamed. He shadowwalked backward, evading another attack. This one was older. A little.
He sent a flurry of attacks, movements and knowledge from decades of fighting blazing around his groove of kind memories. He struck the man's wrist, crushed a foot with his heel, gripped the man around the neck, used his other hand to grab the man's crotch, lifted him off the ground, and tossed. The body hit one of the other approaching Umbris.
There were three more close. One from the front, and one from each side. He darted backward, giving up more ground, and beckoned them forward with two fingers from his right hand. The two to his sides attacked as one, and their swords met in midair. The third had predicted Termillion would shadowwalk, and as soon as he discovered the right location, he lunged.
Someone appeared in his way. Hester, standing tall and with her cloak flowing around her in the snow, caused him to skid, his feet flying out from underneath him.
Hester faded, and Termillion glanced at the orphanage. He saw Hester, Isaac under one arm and keeping her upright, leaning against the door frame, face clenched from pain, and one hand pressed against her wound.
He pounced on the fallen Umbris, standing on his sword with one foot and stomping with the other. He spun, grabbed one of the other Umbris around the middle, and hurled her to the ground. He heard a snap, and turned toward the last of the three. This one was also young, and suddenly realizing his odds. He glanced at the back of his hand, where a blue rune glowed.
Termillion waited for him to decide. The Umbris swallowed--Termillion watched his apple bob. "I'm sorry Termillion," he said. Termillion didn't know him. "I have no choice."
"There are ways to rid yourselves of her runes," Termillion said. He twitched his head in Ummi's direction. The Umbris looked, and saw Ummi gripping her remaining hand. "I'll give you a chance. Make it look real."
The Umbris nodded and, truly, swung at Termillion to kill. Termillion slid out of the way--the child's strike was strong, but slow. He pounded a fist into the Umbris' back, grabbed the sword from his hand, and threw it down the hill. He drove the boy down and stomped on the back of his knee. The Umbris howled in real pain, and Termillion hauled him up, whispering an apology. He tossed the Umbris down the hill, and then looked at Ummi.
"Too easy, witch! Things have changed, as you can see! Every one of you could charge me at the same time, and it would take a hundred moments to dispatch a hundred of you."
Ummi appeared ready to butcher. "Shut your mouth! If you kill a hundred I will send a thousand after you! I will never stop sending them!"
"Kill?" Termillion looked around. The Umbris he had bested were groaning, holding limbs or flesh wounds. "I have killed no one here. The cloak of death is off my back, as you see. I will kill no more."
Ummi smiled--wide, toothy, bloodless--and raised her right hand, ready to grip it tight. "If you won't kill, then you will die!"
From behind, the Umbris Termillion had tossed down the hill grabbed her hand and sliced it from the arm with his sword.
"NO!" Ummi screamed, collapsing to her knees. She pressed the neutered limb against her. "You-" She turned at the Umbris, who held her hand like a trophy. The truth dawned on her.
Her army of Umbris, under the threat of pain and death, had followed her from the start. There was no threat now. A big one grabbed her collar and pulled her off her feet. "The magistrate would like a few words with you. But she can wait until we're done."
"No! Obey me! If you don't..."
"What? What will you do?" Another Umbris said. She lifted her hand, and watched a rune fade. "Nothing." She sheathed her sword. "To the carriages," she said. "Somebody wrap her stub." She looked at Termillion, and stepped toward him, separating herself from the group a small amount. "Thank you, Termillion. I ask your forgiveness. Many of us held out as long as we could. Those you see here...we are all that's left. She tortured us to death, or until we accepted her rule. Still she wracked us with pain. Ummi has crippled the Umbris. I name you leader, and let no creature of the shadow say otherwise."
Cheers rose. He opened his mouth in shock, but it closed quickly. He imagined the Umbris without Kayss. "No. I have my charges. They cower in the building behind me, thinking you come to tear them from their beds. Go. Take Ummi to her deserved fate. May she swing."
More cheers, and Ummi shouting curses. Bandages wound around her arm, and ropes wound around her body. The bundled her off, mocking and jeering at her. Defeated Umbris picked themselves up and limped after the group.
The Umbris who had spoken to him--Theresa was her name--turned to go but stopped. She looked back at him, the wind and snow pulling lengths of blonde hair in front of her face. "I cannot imagine anyone would attempt cruelty against you, or those you protect. But if they do, send a message to the Umbris. We are smaller...and likely the magistrate will reduce us further. But you have allies in us. We charged, and despite your abilities none have died. You could have swept this hill clean of your foes, but no. We live." She smiled at him. "If you are ever in the city I would receive you with honors, Deathless Termillion."
He watched her depart, and a few minutes later he heard the sound of dozens of carriages rolling away.
He scooped up his snow-soaked cloak. Kayss' journal lay among it, and he brushed the snow from the cover. He walked back toward the orphanage, and when he entered it Hester wrapped him in her arms.
"I'm sorry sir, she made me," Isaac said. "She said it was to help you."
"But you didn't need any help, did you?" Hester panted. Termillion put one of her arms over his shoulders. "You weren't killing them. Termillion, you weren't killing them."
"No."
Hester was weeping. "They're all still alive. Look, look, look what you can do if you stay your hand. The Umbris survive. The children are safe, Ummi will swing from hangman's turret. Look, look." Hester fell silent. "Kayss smiles at you."
"Yes."
"Sir?" Isaac said, under Hester's other arm. "Who was Kayss?"
They walked toward Hester's bedroom slowly. "I will tell you more in the morning," Termillion said. "For now, she is someone who has been teaching me a great lesson. It is not one I will forget."
They stood across from each other in the yard, eyes shut, listening to the bare tree branches dance. It was morning, and heavy clouds hid the cold sun.
Termillion breathed in and out slowly, ignoring the freezing air. He tried to push everything out of his head except his goal, the front step of the building he was staying in.
Hester, hair grown back to full length and sigils fully faded, did the same. To get from where they stood to the front step, they would have to go to the stone wall separating the front from the back, unlock its gate using a key neither of them had--or climb it--slip through a dense copse of trees, round the building's corner, and climb the steps.
Or, they could shadowwalk to it, as they were attempting. Both of them had studied the book they had lifted from Kayss' bedroom in the Umbris compound until they could recite it from heart, and every morning for the last week they had stood in the empty yard, putting themselves to the test.
As he had every day before, Termillion sighed and opened his eyes, hoping to see the lengthy, hilly yard in front of the building, but he still saw the leafless branches. This time, however, he was alone. He looked around for Hester, wondering if she had given up and gone inside, and heard the stone wall's gate click.
He spun, hand diving into his cloak to grasp the end of a throwing knife, until he realized it was probably Hester come to celebrate.
"I did it!" she said, when she unlocked the gate. She was smiling, and she ran forward to embrace him. She stopped before she got close enough. "Don't worry, I'll still be out here every morning. Doing it once doesn't mean anything."
"Maybe I just can't do it," Termillion said. The cold finally reached him, and he shivered, pulling his cloak around him. "You'd think this would be easy for me."
"Do you remember what Kayss said, after she shadowwalked during the third trial?" Hester asked. "It took her a long time too. She probably had a lot longer to practice. And then she had to do it in front of Master Gos, you, me, Ummi, and all the other tutors." She gave him a light shove with her fist. "Like father like daughter. You'll get it."
"Maybe this dog is too old to learn tricks."
"Yeah, forty is far too old to do anything."
He eyed her. "Forty-three, spring chicken."
She laughed. "Sorry, old man. Do you want my help getting inside?"
"I should have left you at the clock tower," Termillion said, following Hester through the gate to the front of the building. "What's that?"
The front step bore a small stack of messages. Hester picked the top one up. "I saw them after I shadowwalked, but I was too excited to inspect them. This is from Magistrate Lissit." She picked up the second one. "So's this."
Termillion grabbed the last two. "It's from Mesthum. And this one...who's Briten?"
"One of the caretakers from the orphanage," Hester said. She entered the building, passing under the dark chandelier. "Katherine died in the fire, so Briten was named the next matron." She took the letter from Termillion, who started to walk away. "Don't you want to know what she says?"
"She's your friend," Termillion said, entering the hallway connected to his room. He closed his door behind him and sat at the desk, pulling Kayss' journal toward him. It lay open on the page he had fallen asleep reading the night before.
A month left before my trials, it read. I'm getting more confident in my shadowwalking. It still isn't easy, but the time it takes to picture where I'm going is shorter every time. I wish I could practice outside, but it would be impossible to do it without someone seeing. I want to keep it a secret. I would do it at night, but if Termillion found out I wasn't getting enough sleep I know he wouldn't be happy.
I've finally decided to contact the magistrate's office about my parents. I still can't shake the feeling I have whenever I'm with Termillion. I want to know if my birth is recorded anywhere. If both parents are listed, then so be it. If only my mother's name is known, then I must be right. Termillion is my father.
"I'm surprised you haven't finished reading that yet," Termillion heard behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found Hester leaning against the doorway.
"I'm taking it slow," Termillion said. "It hurts to read it too quickly. I suppose it's too much trouble to knock?"
"I did knock. You didn't answer," Hester said. "I would have left you alone, but you should see the messages Lissit left us." She entered and sat on the small bed next to the desk. "Here's the first one:
"Hester and Termillion, greetings. After two long months, the investigation is complete. Ummi has been accused of terrorism, destruction of property, manslaughter, arson within the city limits, and the endangerment of children and orphans. She has been sentenced to hang from the neck at Hangman's Turret. Now, if only we could get to her.
"She and the other Umbris are barricaded inside their compound. We don't have the forces to fight against them, neither the manpower nor the training. We need your help. I know both of you want to bring Ummi to justice. Send your reply if you are willing to help."
"And the other one?" Termillion asked.
Hester cleared her throat. "Hester and Termillion, greetings. With the investigation closed, the orphans and their caretakers would have been allowed to return to their home, but they no longer have such an option. It is my wish to have them reside in the building I have placed you. You may have wondered why I let the two of you have such a large building; this is why. I am happy to say a few of the orphans have found homes with new parents, but a dozen children remain. They, and the surviving caretakers, will arrive shortly after this letter, likely no more than a day."
Hester looked up. "There are short sections addressed to both of us, and they appear to be of a more private nature."
"Just read mine out loud," Termillion said. He stared at Kayss' journal. "I don't want to hide anything from you."
Hester nodded, and shuffled the paper until she found the section addressed to him. "Termillion: I know being a babysitter isn't something you have in mind, but it's the safest place for them right now. We can't ignore the possibility Ummi is looking for the children for one reason or another.
"Also, it may seem strange, but I believe this will be a good thing for you. Imagine the pain Kayss went through, not knowing who her parents were. Now imagine if, even a little bit, you can reduce that pain for a few others."
"That was unkind of her," Hester said, letting the piece of paper fall on Termillion's desk. "Here's my section."
"Hester: I expect you to try and keep Termillion in line. We already have one enemy of the city running free, we don't need another one. Encourage him to act as a protector for the orphans; if he begins to understand the duty I believe he will become the best thing in their lives.
"Thank you, also, for being there for him. Everyone needs someone to depend on. Your version of the events two months ago made it clear he was close to losing his humanity. You halted that, and with the help of the orphans, you can put a stop to it for good."
Termillion was bent over his desk, eyes studying the grain. Hester cleared her throat. "I suppose there's a reason she wanted these sections read privately."
Termillion opened his mouth. A million words pushed forward. He closed his mouth and swallowed, sighed. "I don't deny I did things beyond morals. Right now, even, it seems like I couldn't do those things. But every once in a while, I see it again. Kayss smiling up at me from my arms." He blinked. "And it all comes rushing back." He hesitated a moment, then looked at Hester. "What did Briten say?"
"Nothing very important, just information about her arrival with the orphans. They'll be here tomorrow, a little after noon. She and two other caretakers survived the fire. It's about to be more crowded here. On the other hand, maybe a little bit of noise would do us good. This place is far too big for just two people." She arranged the papers in her hands. "Did Mesthum say anything important?"
Termillion pulled his friend's letter toward him. "Everybody is being inspected for Ummi's sigils. Apparently the one she gave him hasn't faded yet, so he had to explain everything. Thankfully, nothing he did harmed anyone. He talked a little bit about what's going on in the city. Not even the doctors leave their homes without swords. Did I do this?"
Termillion looked up. The last sentence sent a shiver through her. "Did I start a civil war? Am I going to be responsible for more mothers, more daughters dying? He says...he says he sees people on the rooftops at night, and soldiers are often brought to the hospital. Mesthum has to watch them die. This is...my fault."
"Yes," Hester said. "It's Ummi's fault more, though. She killed Master Gos, and she made me her slave. But Termillion, listen to what you just said--you care again."
Termillion kept his eyes on the letter from Mesthum, then pushed it away. "I suppose. It helped to get away from the city. I was so deep in shadow."
"And now we can see the sun," Hester said. "What do you say to Lissit's request?"
"What can I say? The children are coming here already. We can't exactly send them away."
"I meant helping her fight Ummi and the Umbris."
Termillion gazed out the window. "Of course. All she has to do is point me in the right direction. I told Ummi I would burn the city to the ground. I suppose that isn't necessary anymore, but she'll still feel the heat."
"I'll send the response," Hester said, leaving Termillion alone in his room.
He pulled Kayss' diary into sight. What if I'm wrong? the next day's entry said. What if Termillion isn't my father? I don't even want to think about the possibility. I'm so sure of it. I mean, we have the same chin.
Termillion looked up, frowning. He pictured Kayss' chin, and laughed to himself. But if he isn't my father...he still raised me. Even before he became my individual tutor, he was there for me. I could always go to him for help, or for more training. I want to make sure I make him proud at my three trials. I should practice shadowwalking more.
Termillion closed his eyes and tried to let the stress drain out, picturing himself sitting on the bed. When he opened his eyes he was still at his desk.
The carriage, pulled by a team of six horses sweating even in the cool air, pulled to a halt in front of the house. Termillion and Hester watched the door open, and Briten exit. She waved at them, then held the door. Two more women exited, and older and a younger. After them, a dozen children of varying ages, from only a few years to teenagers, stepped down.
Briten came up to them. "It's good to see you again," she said, shaking both of their hands. "This," she indicated the older woman, "is Nariaiah."
"Call me Nari, if it please you," the woman said, curtseying.
"And Liwa tells me she has already met you," Briten said, pointing at the younger woman.
"Late at night," Liwa said. "There was someone creeping around the orphanage, and you dealt with him."
"Of course," Hester said. "I nearly tackled you."
"Yes ma'am."
"Would you like to meet the children?" Briten asked. "I don't believe you were able to make any of their acquaintances before."
"Of course," Hester said. She looked at Termillion and smiled. "Wouldn't we?"
Termillion nodded.
The eleven children spoke their name, looking anything from fearful and apprehensive to prideful and bored. Each of them, as Briten urged them, shook Hester and Termillion's hands. The two eldest boys tried to crush Termillion's hand in theirs, perhaps to prove their strength. He let them, suffering the pain without acknowledging it.
They entered the tall foyer, and the children gazed in wonder. It was nicer and newer than the old orphanage. It had dark wood banisters instead of cold wrought iron, clean tiles under their feet instead of creaking wood, and a yard in which to run and play instead of a warning not to approach dark alleys. "We have set aside a number of rooms for you three," Hester said, to Briten and the other caretakers. "There are plenty of rooms the children may choose for themselves. Termillion has a room at the end of the north hall, and I have a room at the end of the south."
"The kitchen, ma'am?" Liwa asked. "We've brought food."
"Of course. Through there. But before you go," Hester said. Liwa stopped, on her way back to the carriage. "There are some important things we must discuss immediately. Everyone." She looked at Termillion.
"Welcome to your home," Termillion said. He paused. "A tragedy befell your previous one, and it is our job-" he indicated himself and Hester "-to prevent another. She and I are former Umbris." Several of the older children gasped. "We have been trained almost since birth to fight. I will not hide things from you, children...the person leading the Umbris may want to kill you, and if she gets the opportunity I doubt she will hesitate."
He looked at the older orphans. "I see you puffing out your chests," he continued in his low, near-emotionless voice. Hester had gotten very used to it, since Kayss' death. "If you do that at the wrong time you will find a sword in it. The leader of the Umbris has great power, and you cannot stand up to it." He was gazing at the floor. "If you hear, or see, anything strange or anything frightening, tell any of the adults. Do not hesitate, or investigate it yourself. If you do, you will die."
Hester looked at him, shocked. A few of the orphans began to sniffle. Termillion spun on his heel and left the foyer, retreating to his room and shutting the door. He found Kayss' journal and flipped to the next entry.
There, I've done it. I've sent a request to the magistrate's office for birth records. I don't expect them to answer me quickly, though.
It's very late. I know I should be practicing shadowwalking, but I just can't right now. Everyone's beginning to get on edge about the trials. Ilya has already passed hers--of course she has, she's perfect. I heard a few students have failed, and every time it made my heart pound like a hammer on steel.
I won't fail. I WON'T. I will not let myself. I'll practice until I can't keep my eyes open, though I've already fallen asleep trying to shadowwalk. More than once. Termillion would be upset I'm not getting enough sleep, but he isn't the one who has to pass the trials. I was so tired today I walked right into Gerimon's arms. I must have looked like a red lighthouse, my face got so hot. He asked me about my trials and wished me good luck, and I watched him walk down the hallway afterward like a statue.
Termillion laughed, picturing the tall, muscular charmer who had failed his trial only a few days before Kayss had taken hers. Then he felt a pain in his heart, realizing his daughter must have had a young crush on the boy, and the fact she would have no more.
He wanted to pound his fist through the table. I know Termillion is nervous about my trials, too, the journal continued. He's putting me through everything he can think of, it feels like. I should practice my shadowwalking. I'm so tired, but I can't fail. I'll make him proud of me.
Termillion put a hand to his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms and head on the desk. "I was," he whispered. "So much."
The next day Hester knocked on his door while he was writing a letter, and he bade her enter. She had a letter in her hands. "Lissit's response," she said, shutting the door behind her. It was the afternoon; they had spent all morning practicing shadowwalking at Termillion's request. Hester had noticed his tired expression, but had said nothing. "She has a task for us."
"We're already taking care of the orphans," he said. "What else?"
"It's in the city. It will take us a few days." Hester paused, listening to two of the boys talk in the hallway. "They're making themselves at home, aren't they? Last night little Becca asked me to braid her hair."
"What is Lissit's request?" Termillion asked, without looking up. He heard Hester sigh.
"Ummi's sigiled warriors have been spotted a number of times in the city. In particular, a certain area seems to have a high volume of them."
"The banking district?" Termillion asked.
"Artist's corner," Hester said. Termillion looked up, then turned around in his chair. His surprised face made Hester chuckle.
"Why on Earth would she have soldiers there? Nothing but poets and painters trying to keep from starving."
"I couldn't say. Neither could Lissit, but she wants us to investigate and, if possible, catch one of them alive."
"Of course she does," Termillion said. "When do we leave?"
"No use doing it now," Hester said. "We won't even reach the city until midnight. Tomorrow, sunrise. Good?"
"Fine."
"Who are you writing?"
"Someone who minds their own business." Hester hesitated, then began to leave. "Wait," Termillion said. "...I apologize. I...It's Mesthum. He's one of my few remaining friends." He set the pencil down on the table. "I need to try harder to keep my friends around me, including you. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Hester said. "Things haven't been easy for us."
"I...forget that you have also lost friends." He looked at her. "How long did you know Katherine?"
She entered, and sat on the end of his bed. "A few years. I met her when Master Gos sent me to a city function as a representative of the Umbris. She was there also, as a representative of the orphanage bureau. We were instant friends. I helped support the orphanage after that; money, and gifts."
"And now we're-"
A young girl ran into the room, startling both of them. She was bawling, and jumped into Hester's lap. A bruise was appearing on her cheek.
"Rosie! What happened?" Hester asked. The girl kept crying, and Termillion stood, reaching a hand into his cloak for a rune missile. He opened his senses to search for an assailant.
"Reggie hit me!" the girl said, sobs obscuring her words.
"I didn't mean to!" they heard, and found one of the older boys standing in the doorway. "We were just playing!"
Termillion could not stop from imagining his daughter as the crying girl who had her face pressed against Hester. He turned and gave the boy such a face; Reggie lost all color and stepped backward. "It was a accident!" he said, trying not to cry himself.
"Then I suppose," Termillion said, "you should step up to Rosie and apologize." The sound of his voice silenced the girl's cries, and he realized both children were looking at him with wide eyes. He looked at Hester, and found her expression displeased.
He let his breath escape slowly. "Don't you think that's the right thing to do?" he asked Reggie, trying to make his voice closer to normal. Reggie nodded, and took a few steps forward, into the room.
"Raise your head, Rosie. It was just a mistake," Hester said, and Rosie looked at Reggie, rubbing her eyes.
"'m sorry, Rosie," Reggie said, looking at his feet. He scuffed one of them against the floor. He sniffled, and wiped his nose. "I didn't mean to, honest."
Termillion could practically hear the boy's heart pounding. "Thank you, Reggie."
"Please try to be more careful," Hester said.
Reggie continued looking at his feet. "Yes'm."
"Come, we'll get her cleaned up." Hester stood, holding Rosie to her. "Goodbye, Termillion."
"Bye Termillion," Reggie said. When Hester left, Termillion saw Rosie's eyes watching him until the door closed. He sighed, wishing he could swing his fist through something and shatter it. He sat and finished his letter to Mesthum quickly, hoping the doctor would understand the reason for such a terse reply. He flipped the letter out the window, watching his specially-designed rune carry it away, then considered pulling Kayss' journal closer. It was still open to the page he had left it earlier.
Instead, he stood, and sat where Hester had been, letting his shoulders sink and relax. He tried to clear his mind of everything, picturing himself sitting on the other end of the bed. He didn't have to open his eyes to know he hadn't gone anywhere. The thoughts and feelings attacked him, and kept him there.
"I admit, I haven't spent much time in artist's row," Termillion said the next night. "Not much of a row, is it?"
"No," Hester said, standing next to him, deep in the shadow of a building. "More like a quagmire."
A swirling, uneven mass of houses and shops tilted in every direction. Some of them had bright orange windows while others looked dark and empty. Some of them looked like they contained a great swell of people, while others looked to be nothing more than tiny apartments. People walked to and fro on the streets far below Hester and Termillion; some strutted down the center with feathers in their caps, others slunk along the side, casting glances over their shoulders every few seconds.
"Should we be looking for Ummi's soldiers?" Hester asked. "Or should we try to investigate, and find out what they're here for?"
"Some of both, perhaps," Termillion said.
"Let me guess. You want me to go down there, and you'll stay up here, alone." She looked at Termillion's expression. "I suppose it isn't worth it to argue." She sighed and flipped over the edge of the building, grabbing the wall below it. "Keep an eye on me, will you?" she said up to him. "I'm going to be more exposed."
"Nothing to fear," Termillion said. Hester disappeared from view, and a minute later he saw her walk down the street, hood up and cloak curled around her body.
Termillion rubbed his eyes and tracked her, keeping his head on a swivel. He opened up his senses, listening and looking in the shadows. He heard the rustle of a bird's feathers in the nest, and the typewriter clack of boot heels striking cobblestones, and whispers going from mouth to ear. He saw a rat perched on a barrel his nose told him was full of dust and dropping. He tasted a mug of ale, a piece of burnt bacon. He rubbed his fingers on the shingles next to him, and felt a body shift in a bed within the building.
Two months of good rest had done him well. He looked down the street and saw Hester approach a pub.
He focused the range of his senses, and heard the noise when the door opened. He felt the warm air rushing out, and smelled food and drink. Hester closed the door, and he heard her walk across the wooden floor. A scrape told him she had chosen a stool at the bar, and a moment later he heard the clink of a coin landing in front of her. A few moments later there was a heavy thud, and the sound of sloshing liquid.
He focused on the other people in the building. Two people were discussing a painting one had just completed, three more were going over their recent poems. Termillion rolled his eyes, then heard two people, a man and a woman, talking.
"Hessy thought she saw another one last night. Took her an hour to settle down. 'The Roofmen,' she calls them. Terrorists, I say," the woman said.
"I've seen three this week," the man said. "I keep expecting to hear about bodies lying in the street, or fires started, or something, but there's nothing. What are they doing here?"
"I seen their heads whipping back and forth. They're looking for something."
"My friend Frederich," the man said, keeping his voice low, as if it would help, "works in the council building. He says he hasn't even seen them. They're in the row for some reason."
"Looking for something they can only find here," the woman said.
As she said this, Termillion heard the sound of Hester walking. "Greetings," she said to the man and woman. He heard the sound of a few glasses landing on a table. "I work of the magistrate. I'm investigating Umbris actions in the row. Mind talking?"
The man and woman were quiet, but Termillion imagined them glancing at each other. During the short silence he turned his head, trying to see anything slinking along the rooftops. With his Umbris vision, even the darkest shadows appeared to shimmer with blue sparkles. The moon was as bright as the sun, and lamplight was like a lighthouse. "I suppose," the woman in the pub said. "Only if you tell us your name."
"Hester," she said without hesitating. There was a pause. "Contact the magistrate's office if you wish, but keep this between ourselves."
"You look like one of them," the man said.
"An Umbris?" Hester asked. She chuckled. Termillion swept his eyes across the buildings. "It's because I used to be one. It was a schism. I and plenty others fought the new leader, but she has a way to control people. To force them to follow her. Even if people did disagree, they have to keep quiet...or risk losing their minds."
"So...what do you want to know?" the man asked.
"How many times have you seen Umbris recently?" A short pause. "Have they been doing anything in particular. Anything."
The woman forced a cough. "Still a bit thirsty..."
Termillion could almost hear Hester's amused grin. "Fair enough." A minute later two clunks heralded the arrival of another round. "Please, start."
As if automatically, Termillion's head turned ninety degrees. He'd heard something, but he didn't know what it was. It was like the idea of a sound. He huddled in a shadow, crouched under an eave of the building next to the one he stood on. He concentrated on searching for the source of the sound, and then picked up the conversation again, keeping his eyes moving along the rooftops.
"...like boogeymen," the woman was saying. "My daughter will barely come out from under the covers until the sun comes up."
"But they haven't been doing anything?" Hester asked.
"Not that we can tell," the man said. "Not that we're fine with their presence. Think of the destruction they've caused: the clock tower, and then that orphanage. Those poor children. No parents, and then they lose what little home they have."
"I'd heard the magistrate has found a place for them," Hester said, keeping her tone conversational. "Somewhere outside the city."
"That's good, then," the woman said. Termillion heard her shift in her chair. "Why can't you just attack the Umbris compound and be done with it?"
Hester, and Termillion, laughed. "It would be a poor result," Hester said. "The Umbris are powerful, and now they follow the leader blindly, whether they want to or not. If the city attacked-"
Termillion heard another sound. He spun around but saw nothing.
He felt it. There was something watching him. "Something is near," he whispered. "It saw me."
His heart slowed, and the rush of sensation in his head ceased. "It's moved off. I'm going to follow it."
"I see," he heard Hester say, in response to both him, and something the man had said. "Anything else?"
"I guess we don't know much," the man said, as Termillion concentrated to find the path the Umbris soldier had taken. "Though, I did hear a name for them. Skota. It means shadow."
"Where did you hear such a thing?" Hester asked.
"When I was running my shop," the man said. "I sell art supplies. You know, paints, oils, chalk. A few people were talking. Not a bad name, I think. Poetic, in a way." Termillion rolled his eyes again, then leapt a level up, to a rooftop with a better few. He heard the rustle of smooth clothing far to his left, and felt feet pounding, growing farther away.
He jumped forward, hitting the roof and running, listening to his own feet strike the shingles and boards of the buildings under him.
It was the first time he had seen action since the orphanage. His wounds had healed, his mind and body were rested, and the inferno of the orphanage had tempered him into a weapon. The Skota he chased was dead, and had yet to find out.
He closed the distance quickly, his body exulting in the chance to fly. He leapt over streets and alleys thirty feet below him without looking down, and even tall vertical walls posed no challenge. He found he was smiling, until he realized he could perceive two other forms, the same shape and size as the first. Then his lips pulled back, and his eyes widened, and his smile turned into a leer. He was back in his city, and he would not allow these monsters to soil it.
The winter wind, far above the streets, picked up, dragging his heavy cloak behind him as he drove himself forward. The cloak still held the smell of numerous people's blood--his own, Hester's, Kayss', a nameless street thug, three dangerous skota like he now chased, even an innocent Umbris. He could smell it, if the wind was right, and it reminded him of a time not long passed when he held so much anger it was a miracle it did not spill out of his eyes.
The three skota spun, pointing their weapons toward him. He stood upright, looking down on them from a higher roof, hands curled into empty fists. His body shook with each breath. "Which one?" he said. He didn't care if they heard him.
"Do you want to know something funny?" he asked, in a louder voice. They kept their eyes on him and their weapons in his direction. Their feet shifted them around. "I've spent the last two months trying to get myself under control. To flush out the painful things I've seen and done. I butchered one of your tainted brothers," he said, spitting the word out. "I walked through an inferno, thinking your evil leader had taken away the one thing I still had left! I was ready to turn this entire city into the planet's greatest graveyard. I had to stop. I was becoming nothing more than a weapon who needed no wielder." He touched a spot near his heart, where he had placed Kayss' journal. "I locked it all away. And do you want to know the funny part, if you even have a capacity for humor anymore?"
He took a deep breath, and drew his cloak around him. He pictured Kayss succumbing to the fatal injury Ummi had dealt her, and watched her eyes slip shut after telling him I love you too. "It's so much harder locking it away than letting it free."
The first skota saw a flash of lightning approach, and then a knife cut its vision in half. The second leapt out of the way of a rune missile, sliding to a stop near the edge of the flat roof. The third jumped ahead, swinging its curved weapon. It cut through air when it expected to tear flesh, and then a boot struck it in the side.
Termillion swung his arm around, catching it in the throat and pulling it down with him as he fell to the level of the other two. It landed hard on its back as he rushed the other two skota. Honed knives found their way into his fists. He jumped in between the skota, spinning the knives in his hands and letting the wide grin flash.
The skota in front swung down, the skota behind threw the knife it had pulled out of its eye and stabbed forward with its weapon, the third skota flipped to its feet and attacked from his right with a diagonal cut down, right to left; Termillion shifted his body to the left, letting the dagger pass, struck the front skota's wrist with his fist and kicked it in the stomach, dropped and swung his leg through those of the skota behind, stood and got behind the attack of the final skota. He pushed it backward, nearly lifting it off its feet, and in a smooth motion seized the weapon from its hand and drove it into its stomach.
It fell, spurting blood, and he wiped his hands on his cloak as he turned around. "I'm supposed to catch one of you alive. But you know? I think I'll let the other live as well."
They charged, from the left and right. The left brought its weapon up from below, trying to catch him in the chest, and the right swung across, aiming for the neck.
They moved like dancers, fast motions made to look slow and lazy. Termillion found the gap between their blades and passed through, freeing a rune missile from a pocket. Before it could react, he slapped it on the upper arm of one of the skota, and the next second there was a crack. Its arm fell to the ground, and the odor of seared skin drifted from the cauterized wound. It let out a loud hiss, stumbling, and Termillion slapped another rune on the remaining arm. The same result left the dark monster unable to balance, and it fell forward onto its stomach.
The remaining skota ignored its wounded comrade, continuing the attack. It swung fast; each whisper of the blade through the air contained enough force to kill if it hit the correct spot.
Termillion played with it. He knocked the blows away, slowly pushing it toward the edge of the roof. The wind gusted and its heel slid over the gap. Termillion grabbed its arm and lifted it over his head. He threw it, and it landed on its back with a hard crunch. He plastered a rune missile across its face, and its body went numb and weak. He flipped it over and tore its shirt to make bindings for its wrists and ankles. He flipped it over again, and looked into its remaining eye. "I guess you're the lucky one." He punched it in the head and let it lie as he went to the armless skota, wriggling on the ground.
"You get to live," he said. "But I have a job for you." He pulled out a rune, and a pencil. "You're going to take a message to Ummi. Understand?" He didn't wait for an answer, scribbling quickly, then pulling the bandana off the skota's mouth and forcing its jaws apart by squeezing its cheeks. "A warning. I've activated this rune. Since I don't think you can even talk anymore, I've written the message directly on it. If you apply any pressure to it, it will explode. It's a small blast, really, but-" he shoved the piece of paper inside its mouth "-it doesn't need to be very big. Go to Ummi. You don't really have a choice in the matter, do you?" He looked at the stubs left over from its arms. "You don't."
It ran. Termillion returned to the numbed skota and hauled it to its feet. "You and I are going to visit the magistrate." He grinned. "So be on your best behavior."
He descended to the street, dragging the weakened body with him. He scaled down the building, keeping the skota suspended with one hand. When he touched the cold cobblestones he straightened his cloak, grabbed the skota's tied wrists, and began to drag it through the snow dusting the ground under his feet. Midnight strollers spotted him, standing aside and gazing. Termillion kept his eyes forward, even as the skota's numbness began to wear off and it started to struggle.
When he reached the pub, he kicked the door open, and felt the silent stare of every patron, the barmaid, and Hester. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was open, and she looked just as shocked as the six others at her table, empty glasses between them.
"One less bogeyman to haunt your nights," Termillion said, cutting through the silence. "I'm sorry. Three less. Hester." He lifted the struggling skota. "You and I have an appointment with Lissit."
Hester, burning under the stares, fled into the snow. Termillion remained inside for a moment, gazing around at the people watching him. Without a word, he turned and went back outside.
"Are you hurt?" Hester asked.
"They couldn't touch me," Termillion said.
"There were really three? You killed the other two?"
"One of them." Termillion shrugged. "Couldn't be helped."
"What happened to the last one?"
"Cut its arms off and shoved a message for Ummi in its mouth."
"What?!"
Ummi snapped her fingers, and the runes buried in its eyes burst the skota's head, flinging bone, blood, and brain around the room. Its armless body flopped to the ground. Ummi stared at it, feeling the wonderful effects of anger. With a light touch she wished she could use to crush, she looked at the message the skota had held in its open mouth all the way back to the Umbris compound. Get out of my city.
"Contact Mesthum," she said to one of the un-changed Umbris standing near her. The man wished he could wipe the gore off his shirt, but knew to wait until Ummi was out of the room. "Tell him to come and see me immediately. Tell him he does not have a choice. Actually, tell him he does have a choice, and tell him about the choice this thing chose." She pointed at the headless, armless skota, and then walked out of the room.
"Thank you for waiting," Magistrate Lissit said, allowing Termillion and Hester to enter her study.
"Sorry for waking you," Hester said.
"No need to apologize," Lissit said. "It isn't so uncommon. I may not be running along rooftops at midnight, but I've watched my share of sunrises. So this is one of the skota, is it?"
"You know the name?" Termillion asked. He threw the skota on its stomach and placed his foot on its back. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"It's a recent piece of information," Lissit said. She bent, placing on knee on the carpet next to the skota. She rubbed a finger on its arm. "Ugh. Like it's made of oil. It's male?"
"Can't tell," Termillion said. "I've fought almost ten of them, and they all look the same. Small, shriveled half-humans who do Ummi's bidding whether they want to or not. They're fast, and strong, but single-minded. They can't plan ahead and they can't strategize. She's ensuring their allegiance to her but weakening them. Look here." He flipped it onto its back, applying pressure on its throat with his knee. "In the eyes. It looks like it could be at the back. One of her runes."
"Hester, I hate to bring up painful memories, but how did she etch the runes onto you?" Lissit asked, looking at the runes, tilting her head one direction and then another, to see them from every angle.
"A special tool," Hester said. "Like a knife. If she pressed hard enough on my skin, she could draw the rune. Very painful. It felt like a tattoo, but the pain never went away."
"So how could she draw them onto the back of the eye like this?"
"I can't say for sure, but I may have a clue," Hester said. She looked at Termillion. "While you were fighting, I was posing the right questions. Ummi's agents--regular Umbris, not these things--have been going around artist's row and trying to find a certain kind of material. A chalk, made from a mixture of crushed lapis lazuli, pearl, and fine rosewood shavings. I know for a fact it isn't the same material she used to engrave the runes on me. It could be for the skota, or something else."
"So if she has regular Umbris on the street, why does she need these things searching all night?" Lissit asked.
"It's because of us," Termillion said. "That's what it seems to me. The normal Umbris shop, just like any other artist, and the skota run around at night. We come here drawn by skota sightings, and then..."
"And then what?" Hester asked.
He looked at Lissit. "Was it ever determined how Ummi found out we were staying at the orphanage?"
Lissit shook her head. "There were no hostages, and my agents found nothing."
"She wanted to make sure she knew when we were investigating. The Umbris in the row are doing something uncritical, something she didn't mind us knowing about." Termillion looked down and shifted his weight onto the skota's throat. "I don't suppose you'd care to spill your guts, would you? Of course not."
"Was it to trap us?" Hester asked. "Did she just want us dead?"
"Undoubtedly," Lissit said. She paced around the study. "It doesn't take a mind reader to know Ummi has a grudge against you. The question to come back to, though, is why she would try to lead you to the same area her agents are searching."
"Maybe she's just an idiot," Termillion said. He was looking at the skota under his boot. "Maybe she didn't realize we would figure it out."
"After all the planning and foresight she had for her takeover," Hester said, taking him in, "do you really think she's so stupid?"
He hesitated. "No. Not stupid." He hunted for the right word. "Foolhardy. Proud. She thinks there's nothing we can do to stop her plans." He smiled, and applied more pressure on the skota's throat. It began to wriggle. "But there's always a way."
"Off," Lissit said, pushing him. "This is my prisoner." She rang the pull-cord behind her desk, the same one Termillion had cut with a knife two months before, and a moment later her assistant entered. "Have the guards take...this...to the dungeon. And bring in some refreshments, please."
When the skota was gone, and a tray of tea placed on the table they sat around, Lissit sipped at her cup and produced a bundle of papers. "The city is sitting on a razor's edge," she said, looking from Termillion to Hester. "It's a powder keg--the worst kind. If an Umbris or a skota kills a loving father or innocent child, the city will explode at Ummi. If the city encroaches the compound too much, or Ummi thinks we're pushing her too much, she might send out her own forces. If either happens, we'll get a civil war, riots in the streets, or assassinations by the dozens. You two know better than I how dangerous a few Umbris with a goal in mind can be. I need to figure out a way to defuse this before hundreds are dead." She sighed. "I haven't even given the authorization to announce Ummi's sentence. I'm afraid that will be enough." She stood up and began pacing again. "It's why I need you two."
Termillion watched her pace. She looked even older than she was. "There's no way Ummi doesn't know we're working for you," Hester said.
"With you."
Lissit glanced at Termillion. "Be that as it may, you still have skills, experience, and knowledge far beyond anyone else working against Ummi. If we're lucky, she doesn't know you're still in the city."
Hester laughed. "She certainly knows. Every time Termillion defeats a skota, he leaves her a taunting message. Trust me, she knows."
Termillion glared at Hester, but Lissit looked at Termillion. "Is this true?"
He shrugged. "True enough."
"Taunting messages..." Lissit was looking out a dark window. "An interesting idea."
Termillion raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"I have never loved a decree more," Termillion said, looking over the room of sleepy scribes.
"Unofficial decree," Lissit said. "It's only the first step. I haven't passed this with the council, so if it doesn't work I'm in trouble. That also means you're in trouble, by the way."
Hester, standing next to Termillion, yawned. "I've had my assistant prepare rooms for you," Lissit said to them. "Get a few hours sleep. I'll have some lunch sent in--meet me in my study at noon."
As soon as they left the scribe room, Termillion's face fell. Hester recognized the new expression; it was the same one he'd had after leaving the burning orphanage two months ago. "Termillion..."
"I just need a moment to myself," he said. He leaned against a wall, next to a window. Early-morning light spilled in, and it reminded him of the morning Kayss had died. "Something Lissit said. A loving father or an innocent child."
Hester remembered the magistrate talking about what might happen to ignite a civil war. "I can talk to her if you want," Hester said. "Tell her you-"
Termillion waved his hand. He waited. "It used to be easy. I turned it all into anger. And then the orphanage."
"Lissit saved the body," Hester said. "Ummi couldn't get to it."
"My actions destroyed what little home the orphans had. Your friend Katherine died in the blaze. It spread to other homes. It was my fault."
"I told you before--Ummi ordered the blaze. It's her fault. Where else were we to go? Continue hiding in a tiny room with your daughter's corpse in the corner?"
Termillion looked out the window. "I suppose not."
Hester yawned again. "I need my sleep," she said. "And so do you."
"I will," he said. "I need to visit someone first."
Hester watched him lean against the window, looking at the rising sun. "Do you want me to come with you?"
He looked over his shoulder, then back at the window. He almost answered yes. "Not this time. It will give me a little time to read." He patted the journal, tucked inside his cloak.
"Don't be out too long. Old dogs need their sleep," she said. She hesitated, then embraced him lightly, putting her right arm around his body from the back and pressing her head against his shoulder. Before he could push her away she detached and headed for the room Lissit had prepared for her.
Still no answer from the magistrate's office, the journal read. He was sitting a foot from her gravestone. It was a large one, befitting her adult status, though it bore a false name and date to prevent Ummi from finding it again. The city's largest cemetery was already growing busy, so soon after dawn, but it was quiet. I didn't think they would be able to respond quickly. They must be busy, after all.
He stretched his neck up, rubbing it and looking at the clear sky. He'd read a few day's worth since finding his daughter's resting place. Most of it was day-to-day events, worries about the Umbris trials. A great deal of wonder about the boys in her life. Termillion was a little surprised at himself for not realizing how popular she was. When she was with him, she was all business--serious, almost emotionless.
The next section of the journal contained one of its many explanations why: Termillion has been ramping up my training sessions. It's been exhausting, and he knows it, but I refuse to let it show. I won't give him a reason to doubt me, or himself. I've been staying up all night to practice shadowwalking, and so when it comes to morning training, I'm usually too tired to complain anyway. I'll try to catch a nap in the afternoon, but then it's back to work.
It's been getting easier. All the practice has worn some sort of groove in my mind. I'm able to slip into a relaxed state easier and easier. I was able to shadowwalk three times last night. I got so excited each time it took an hour to calm back down. There're about three weeks until the trials. I know if I practice long enough, I'll be able to do it even when everybody is watching me. Even when TERMILLION is watching me.
Termillion sighed, and closed the book. A groove in my mind, he repeated. Like my anger. It got easier and easier. Until I lived there.
He recalled the way he had thought and acted--even the way he had stood, or walked. Implacable. Murderous. Hard and pointed, like a thrown spear, and damn where it lands. On a villain or an innocent child. Quivering in a body, or through the window of a home, setting the building ablaze and burning people who'd spent their lives taking care of the least fortunate.
He stood and looked down at his daughter's grave. The last time he had looked down at her grave, Hester's friend Katherine had told him something. "If we could all love the children like you, Termillion, there would be no need for orphanages," he said to himself.
He slipped Kayss' journal inside his cloak, and took a long, steadying breath, filling himself up and then emptying himself out. He arranged his cloak properly. It felt heavy, and hot, despite the cool temperatures around him. He left the cemetery, slipping back to the magistrate's building while keeping an eye and ear open for anyone following him.
He got to his room undisturbed. It was little more than a closest, with a rumpled cot and a chair for guests. He removed his cloak and let it pile in the corner, then sat on the cot. It wheezed under him. A groove in my mind.
He imagined the surface of his brain, and pictured a channel across it, away from the frazzling energy and pumping worry. He tried to settle into it, but he was too big. He shrank himself, mentally, away from the awakening city, and rising sun. Away from the barely-contained civil war between armored soldiers and warriors cloaked in shadows. Away from monsters with glowing eyes, and women who wanted to crush him in her remaining hand.
The groove contained a great deal, however. Memories of spending time with Kayss, or her mother. Watching Kayss grow from a little girl into a beautiful young woman, or watching her mother's belly grow larger through a window. Witnessing Kayss shadowwalk for the first time, to the amazement of Termillion, Ummi, Master Gos, and everyone else in attendance.
He remembered her mother pulling him out of his chair in the pub to dance. He remembered the first time Kayss had struck him with a training sword, hard enough to make him see stars. He remembered looking where her dying mother was pointing to see her, huddled so far in a shadow he could barely see, while a riot raged around him. Torches threw shadows like knives, and every few moments her eyes would glint with fire. She was stuck in a tight angle between two buildings, and after he had carried her mother to a patch of grass, he had crouched in front of the cowering girl.
She was only four years old. He knew, because he was there the day she was born, ready to burst into her home and carry her to Mesthum if something went wrong. He'd taken his hood down and looked his daughter in the eye for the first time, even as she had shied away from him. The madness of the riot was frightening her.
He'd taken out a rune and activated it. It had glowed a soft blue. The sound around them began to die away, until it was quiet. He held the piece of paper out to her, and she had taken it.
She was in his arms then, and he was leaping over rooftops toward the Umbris compound. She'd fallen asleep in his arms.
Termillion, nearly lulling himself to sleep with his own memories, shifted in the chair and rubbed his face to try and stay awake.
"You look like you didn't sleep a wink," Hester said a few hours later. "You didn't, did you?"
"Didn't even try," Termillion said. "More important things than sleep in this world."
"Not for much longer if you keep that up." They were eating in the magistrate's study. Sandwiches, heavy bowls of soup, fresh vegetables and fruit, and the magistrate's favorite tea was in front of both of them. "How is she?"
"Good," Termillion said. "She goes by the name 'Eryn Urch' now."
"Urch? Like...urchin?"
"A bit on the nose, but it's an easy name to remember." Termillion spooned soup into his mouth. He sighed, emptying himself out. Just for a moment, he eased himself into the groove of happy memories, then picked up his spoon and continued eating.
"Good to see you both rested," Lissit said when she entered. "My scribes have been working since the sun came up. They have about a thousand leaflets at the moment. I heard them laughing themselves silly with the insults they came up with."
Termillion nodded. "As much as I love the path you've taken, are you sure this will work?"
"Sure? Of course not," Lissit said. She picked up a cup of tea and drank. "But it's the best idea yet, and evidence from yourself seems to indicate she'll do something stupid and give us an opening."
"And if she doesn't?" Hester asked.
"Then we think of something else."
"How long will it take before you send us to kill her?" Termillion asked.
"When it's the very last thing to try," the magistrate said, sitting at a third chair around the table. "When not doing so results in this city burning down. For now-" she sipped her tea "-we send insults."
"They've been able to write the rune properly?" Termillion asked. She nodded.
"Not without some mistakes, of course. Apparently a small change in one of the quadrants makes it fly so fast the paper disintegrates." Termillion raised his eyebrows. "But they've got it now. Tonight, countless slips of paper bearing your rune will descend on the Umbris compound, each one bearing a different insult for Ummi." The magistrate leaned back in her chair and grinned. "What a wonderful idea."
"It's definitely...unique," Hester said. She had her hands clasped in front of her. "But what do we do after that? She isn't going to turn herself in because of a few childish barbs."
"It's one part insulting her, one part demoralizing the Umbris, and one part trying to trick her into playing her hand. It's clear: if we can capture or kill Ummi, this all goes away. The city...well, it doesn't go back to normal, but the threat of war is gone." Lissit looked at Termillion. "My offer still stands. The Umbris will be yours to do with as you wish."
Termillion nodded. "Cross that bridge when we come to it, I think," he said.
They spent hours planning. A few hours after sunset the scribes, guards, and everyone else in the building began to fling runed letters out the windows, watching them spin away into the night toward the Umbris compound. Lissit, Hester, and Termillion each added a few of their own to the assault of paper, and settled back to watch.
Termillion would have payed to watch Ummi learn about the messages. As it was, he returned to his room and continued reading Kayss' journal. There was little of importance, just notes about each day as they slipped past: what he had been training her in, her growing anxiety about the Umbris trials, he continued shadowwalking skill. He smiled, recalling again his amazement at watching her disappear into the darkness and appear behind him, only to turn sideways and take her place back in the arena, smiling under her hood.
He remembered when Kayss had caught him as he fell from the breaking clock tower, shadowwalking through the sunrise, to the rooftop where Ummi would stab her.
He shook his head, taking a deep breath. He cast the memory away, drawing up a better one. He remembered when Kayss was finally old enough to have one-on-one tutoring, and how he nearly begged Master Gos for the opportunity. None of his other students had succeeded, but he knew she would. He remembered the joy when Master Gos had given his approval, and the joy in Kayss' face when he had told her.
Still nothing from the magistrate's office, Kayss had written, a date about two weeks before her trials. I'm trying not to think about it. I finally snuck out last night to try and shadowwalk farther than just around my room. I had to keep to the shadows so nobody would catch me after curfew...nobody caught me so I feel pretty good about it. I was able to shadowwalk a hundred meters. I should try a farther distance next time, but it has to be somewhere I've seen. I wonder if I could get over the walls? I haven't spent much time outside the compound, but I seen a little bit. I bet I could do it.
I can't wait to beat my trials. I know I will. Termillion believes in me, and so do I. When I do, I'll have Termillion take me all over the city. If I'm right and he is my father, I bet I'll be able to get details about my mother out of him.
Clever girl, Termillion thought. He bent to keep reading, but heard running feet about to stop at his door. He shot out of the chair and reached for a knife, before remembering he had taken his cloak off again. He heard a quick knock, and opened the door to find Hester.
"Skota on the move," she said. "They're headed here. Practically an army of them."
"She can't be serious," Termillion said, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. It felt so heavy. "Is she so insecure she'll start a civil war just because of insults?"
"We know she would," Hester said. "But we don't really know what she has planned yet. It could be a diversion, or a trick."
"If it's the skota, it won't be," Termillion said. He joined Hester in the hallway as two armored soldiers hurried past. "They're mindless."
"Mindless and dangerous," Hester said. "It will be up to us to keep the tide from turning against the magistrate. She's already been moved to a safe location and left us in charge of the defense."
"Politicians for you," Termillion said. Knives jumped into his hands. "Let's have at them, then."
"We can't take so many on our own. Even with shadowwalking, they'll bury us under their forces. They won't even have to fight very hard. We need a plan."
"I have a plan," Termillion said. "It's written on these." He pulled a rune missile out of his cloak with a flourish. "Let them hear the words."
"Very nice," Hester said, lowering his hand. "The rest of us don't have those."
"You won't need them. I'll just-"
"Sir!"
Hester and Termillion turned around. A guard captain stood behind them. He looked at Termillion. "The Umbris have stopped advancing. A man appeared from among them and demanded he speak with you."
Termillion and Hester glanced at each other. "Did you recognize him?"
"I...no sir, I didn't. It is difficult. His body is covered with glowing symbols."
Hester gasped. "Where is he?" Termillion asked.
"The front gate. He'll only speak with you."
Termillion nodded and turned, heading toward the front. Hester hurried after him. She made two steps for each of his.
"I don't like this," she said as they hurried. "Why would Ummi send someone to talk with us when she already has the advantage in numbers and skill?"
Without answering, Termillion pushed through the tall double-doors from the hallway into the lobby. Several dozen soldiers, shields and swords in hand, made way for them. Two of them pulled open the doors leading outside, and Termillion led the way. He enhanced his vision, and saw a hundred figures standing on rooftops against the glowing blue sky.
"So which one of you wants to talk?" Termillion said, throwing his voice forward with all the strength he could muster. "I'm here. Let us talk."
A figure lurched forward, into the area of light from the building. "No." Hester put her hand over her mouth. Termillion felt the air suck out of his lungs. The figure was covered in glowing sigils, like Hester had been months ago when Ummi had control over her. Its head was shaved. Any bare skin glowed. Blood ran in miniscule streams down its arms, legs, and chest, flowing constantly from each and every sigil. It stumbled forward, and Termillion nearly leapt forward to catch it. It steadied itself.
"Termillion," Mesthum said. The word seemed unfamiliar to his mouth. "As you can see, I have the upper hand." Each syllable marched after the other, like on an assembly line. "If only I had found your little girl's corpse, then maybe you would have seen her empty body march against you, instead of this doctor."
His vision swam. He wondered if he was going to vomit. He almost sank to his knees. Mesthum continued speaking. "Here is your decision. Battle your friend, kill him, and the skota will return back to me. Let him live, or take longer than three minutes to kill him, and the skota attack. You, and that bitch you're working with perish under my army, and I take control. Which will it be? And before Hester does anything, the skota are programmed to attack if you try to help. So sit down and watch like a good little girl."
"Termillion..." Hester said.
He sucked breath in, filling himself. He imagined his daughter telling Ummi off as the woman began her coup. He imagined her sitting at her desk when she should be sleeping, writing about him in her journal, and he pressed his hand against it.
"Mesthum! Are you in there?" he shouted. Mesthum didn't move. "I'm sorry, Mesthum. I know you must be in pain. Don't worry. It will end soon."
He flowed forward, flinging knives for what he figured would be an immediate kill. Instead, Mesthum stepped out of the way, sigils glowing brighter, and a painful sound escaped his lips. Termillion was on him, swiping with two more knives.
Mesthum dove his arms forward, bludgeoning Termillion in the chest. He took a step back, then whipped a rune missile at his friend. It struck Mesthum in the stomach, too quick to dodge, and tiny yellow lightning bolts flashed from limb to limb. Mesthum threw his head back and screamed, but didn't fall. Termillion fired another dagger, aiming for Mesthum's exposed throat.
He caught it between two fingers. Termillion's eyes went wide. Mesthum had no such skill. He should be dead already.
Mesthum threw the dagger toward Termillion, who rolled out of the way. "Resist, Mesthum!"
"Can't!" Mesthum said, gasping, ejecting the word like an arrow from a bow. "The pain!"
"I just need a moment, that's all!" Termillion said. "Resist!"
Mesthum grit his teeth. For a moment, his limbs slowed. Termillion thrust himself forward, knife leading, and punctured Mesthum's lung.
The strength went from their bodies, and they fell together. Mesthum began to cough up blood before his knees struck the cobblestones. "Thank you," Mesthum wheezed. "Ummi...tricked...no choice. Sorry. So sorry." He coughed again, spitting out enough blood to soak Termillion's cloak. "Made me...where you were staying. The orphanage. My fault."
"Ummi's fault," Termillion said. He held his friend, like he had held his daughter, and her mother. "Ummi's fault."
"Punctured lung," Mesthum said. His eyes were slipping closed. "Seal the wound. Quickly. Save her."
Termillion felt a wave pass through him. "What?" Mesthum pointed past him. He spun, expecting to see Ummi, or Kayss, or Lissit. He saw Hester, kneeling, the knife Mesthum had thrown in her chest.
"No!" He pushed up, running back to her. "Help! Help!" He nearly tore his voice. He slid next to her. She was already coughing blood. "Something to seal the wound!" he shouted to himself. "No!" She tried to grab his hand, and an idea sprang out. "Lie down." He tore off her cloak and began to undo her shirt. "To the skin," he told her as he brought out a blank piece of paper. He dipped his finger in her blood and began to draw. He summoned every tiny bit of knowledge he had accumulated about his unique method of battle, making the perfect lines, and loops, and shapes. His hand became stained with blood. She tore her clothes, exposing the wound, above her breast, coughing all the while. He pulled the knife out and pressed the rune against her skin in one motion, pressing it down. The rune activated, and glued itself to the surface of her chest. It soaked through with blood. She tried to breathe in, and his heart jumped as the rune held tight.
Soldiers appeared. Someone picked Hester up and carried her inside. It took a moment for Termillion to realize it was him.
I'm prepared for the worst. I'm prepared to learn something I didn't want to know.
Termillion looked up. Hester slept. Doctors had tended her, doing what they could. "A miracle her lung hadn't collapsed," they said. He had saved her life. Bandages encircled her chest. She coughed periodically, and her face crinkled with pain.
His head fell, and his eyes pointed at Kayss' journal again. He felt like he was floating. I got a response from the magistrate's office. It's sitting next to my elbow as I write. I haven't opened it yet.
Hester groaned, and Termillion's head snapped up. She settled back to sleep, face frozen halfway through a cough. Her mouth and face were stained with dry blood. Termillion raised his hand and moved it toward her, then stopped. He again looked at the journal. I've been waiting for this for weeks. Now finally it's here and I can't bring myself to open it. It has the official seal of the magistrate and everything. But...likely it's just a copied note saying they didn't have any records. I'm just a Streetchild, rescued from the riots that took my mother. I'm lucky Termillion found me, and showed me a life I could love. Showed me love. He is my father, whether it's written on the piece of paper next to my elbow or not.
Termillion began to ache. He slipped a hand over his eyes, not wanting to stain the journal. His other hand curled into a fist, and he pounded his leg. I was! I was! I loved you! I loved you more than I love myself! Watching you die broke me into a hundred pieces! It's taken me so long to put myself back together, and the one person who was always there to keep me from falling apart again struggles to breathe!
He wiped his face and looked at Hester. Her chest rose slowly and slightly.
He stood up from his bedside post. It was sometime during the night. The skota had all moved away, back to their black mistress. His cloak was hanging in the corner of the room, Mesthum and Hester's blood drying on it, making it heavier. The room smelled of medicine, bandages, cleansing fluids, and Hester's bloody breath.
He leaned against the dark window. A candle flickered on a table next to Hester, and he was in shadow. He tried to throw the foul away and dredge up the good. He looked for a memory powerful enough, glorious enough to help him slip into the groove in his mind. There was nothing.
He was thinking about Ummi. He pictured her eyebrows knitted together, frowning, as always. He pictured her planning everything, etching sigils onto Hester or Mesthum, or corrupting the Umbris to make them unthinking, mindless warriors of shadow and smoke. He pictured her chasing him to the clock tower, where he hid with his daughter. He pictured her sending Hester to kill him against her will.
He pictured her killing Kayss.
He pressed his head against the window. Maybe it would shatter. He felt himself coming apart. His fists rested against the wall. The pieces he had slowly attached during two long months were falling away, leaving him with a face unable to shift and change, unable to smile, unable to vary in approach, striding forward with knives in hand and blood-heavy cloak flaring behind him. Killing anyone too close.
Mesthum was dead by his hand. Hester fought for her life. He had no one else. He went back to watching his daughter die in his arms, and he was a moment from throwing himself out the window.
The memory continued. Kayss jumped in front of Ummi, taking the blade meant for him. Termillion had cut off Ummi's hand, severing the control she had over Hester and driving Ummi away. He had crawled to Kayss, begging it not to be so, and turned her over. Her blood stained his cloak.
She had coughed out blood holding her hands to her stomach, and called him dad. She had said I love you too.
His heart shattered and reformed a hundred times in a moment. I love you too. The most wonderful thing you can hear. The greatest possible sound. His heart stopped shattering. He had shown her love, and loved her. She had loved him too. He felt no greater joy than this, knowing the person he had dedicated his life to protecting understood, and responded in kind.
He turned around and looked at Hester. She would have to rest. They would return to the orphanage. He hadn't slept in days; he would sleep on the carriage ride outside the city. There would be plenty of time. Lissit might not enjoy it, but it was his choice. What could she possible do to stop him? There was no one left to kill.
"I understand," Lissit said. They sat in her study, across the table. Lissit had a cup of tea in her hands. His were clamped between his legs. His head was bowed, looking at them. "You need time. You have it. Do you remember my earlier request?"
He looked up. "Help you find Ummi."
"No, the other. Watch over the children. I'm sure nothing terrible has happened in your brief absence, but they could use a strong defender. You know the house you're in used to be my family's home? Decades ago, when I was a girl. So far. It's barely within the city limits. There are some ancient treasures there. Thieves have tried to get in more than once. Lots of little treasures to protect."
Termillion frowned. "My family wasn't perfect," the magistrate continued. "My father especially. He was an angry man. He never hurt me, or any of my siblings, but he hit my mother a few times. He was also...so upset with himself. He would fall to his knees before her, asking for her forgiveness. An incredible father. He taught me so much about life, love, strength, weakness. Not flawless, no, no. Not flawless...but perfect. Children need a father, Termillion. I hurt for children who grow up without one. Like those children at the orphanage. I ask you to go and watch over them, Termillion, and I will consider you greater than I if even one of them lives a happy life."
The carriage bounced down the bumpy road, out of the hectic cobblestone streets and onto the dirt lanes of the country. Termillion watched empty fields pass with each landing horse hoof. Hester, resting in a cocoon of cushions and blankets, had her head in Termillion's lap. She was asleep, and would likely be unable to fend for herself for several weeks.
Gentle snow fell on the steaming horses, and the roof of the carriage. It was evening; they'd left the city the evening before, the two drivers switching to let the other rest. Soon the orphanage would come into view, nestled inside the large grove of trees the magistrate had grown up in, at the top of a hill.
Termillion, one hand around Hester's while she slept, turned the page in Kayss' journal. Tomorrow. I'll open it tomorrow. The day of my trials. The day I become a fully-cloaked Umbris. The day I astound them with shadowwalking. The day I become swift darkness, ready to...
What will I do? Termillion has said there are many things Umbris are in charge of. Policing. Peace-keeping. He found me during the plague riots almost fifteen years ago, he tells me he was there to stop the worst of humanity from surfacing. They keep watch during the night. He also said sometimes they've acted as soldiers or spies during war. How exciting!
I know whatever I do I will excel. Am I being prideful? Perhaps I am. One of the sins that have sucked people down. Am I being confident? Because Termillion is confident in me, and I have worked hard enough to AFFORD confidence. I could close my eyes and appear on the other side of the compound a moment later. It will, of course, be different when everyone has their eyes on me.
Where will I go? I should decide before-hand. Somewhere I am familiar with, to make the chance of error as low as possible. Somewhere I feel comfortable. I want to WANT to go there.
So many questions. One more day.
There was only one entry left in the journal. The last day she had the chance to write in it. Her last day alive.
Termillion hoisted Hester out of the carriage and into the orphanage. Briten and the others met them inside, and they quickly got Hester to her bed. After an explanation of the relevant events, and what they would have to do to care for her, Termillion made his way back to the lobby, pointing himself toward his room. Several of the children were there, having seen Hester's bandaged form. A few of them pushed one of the older boys forward when Termillion appeared. "Sir?"
"How are you, Isaac?"
"Well, sir. We're glad you're back." He coughed. "Will Miss Hester be all right?"
There was a brief moment when Termillion felt the weight of his lover, their daughter Kayss, and Mesthum in his arms. He looked down at the boy, wondering if he would have to hold his small body in the same way. He wondered if he would have to bury his single remaining friend like he had buried his daughter. He wondered if he would have to watch this place, like the old orphanage and like his life, go up in flames.
"She may. She is greatly hurt. The doctors have seen to her, and she is sleeping peacefully now. She will need to rest for quite some time."
It came to him, suddenly. Isaac, standing with the other children, was but a few years younger than Kayss. He, and the other children, were still looking at Termillion, waiting for more assurance. He crouched, coming more in line with the boy. "You seem strong, Isaac. Will you help Hester? Even when she gets better, she will need help walking, and carrying things. It will be some time before she is back to normal. I won't always be able to be there for her. Can I trust you?"
The boy stuck out his chest. "Yes sir."
The cold sun sank, and the building grew dark. Children ran up and down the halls, keeping themselves warm until dinner, which was fresh bread, and good stew. Termillion ate it with joy, then helped Hester take some. She was awake, but weak and tired, and she fell asleep soon after Termillion brought Isaac in and explained how he would assist her. He returned to his room after listening to Briten list a few projects needing his help: A corner of the roof was leaking, one of the steps to the second floor had loose tiles, and the lower bath's mirror was loose and liable to fall. He told her he would begin work in the morning.
He opened the journal to the last entry. Here we are.
I opened it. Under my mother's name it says Kressa Goodhome. Under my father's name it says nothing. It is blank.
I realized something last night, trying to fall asleep. An Umbris has many tasks, but only one goal: protect. Keep people safe during the night. Keep enemy soldiers away from the city. Bring orphans to a safe place if you find them in the middle of a riot, and raise them up to someone you can be proud of.
Termillion has done all of that. He found me, and taught me, and kept me safe. There is nothing listed as my father's name but there is no clearer father in my life. I am Termillion's child, Kayss Goodhome, and he has given me a good home.
Tears appeared, dotting into the pages. He covered his eyes and wept.
Minutes later his eyesight cleared--his vision was still a jumbled mass of memories, and it took him longer until he was able to continue reading.
I've figured out something else. I know where I will go when I perform for the tutors during my third trial. Somewhere I WANT to want to go. I will appear by Termillion's side, by my father's side. Somewhere comfortable, somewhere I feel safe. Somewhere I know nothing bad will happen. Somewhere I want to go. By Termillion, the man who has given me a good home.
Termillion turned the page, expecting emptiness. Instead, he found a faded, wrinkled, nearly-disintegrating rune. The same one he had handed to Kayss at the riot, to wipe away the chaos.
He closed the journal and pushed it away from him on the desk. He was done weeping. His goal was clear. It was all clear. He sat alone and settled into a groove of fine memories, listing for himself all the moments Kayss might have been able to look back on and enjoy. He felt her love, and her happiness, and her comfort, and they filled him up. Sealed the cracks, plugged the leaking holes. He felt healthy. He felt warm. He smiled, and pulled the journal closer, opening it to the first page.
Before he bent down to read, his door flew open, and he surged up. Isaac stood in the doorway, as white as the snow falling outside. "There are people coming!" he said, and Termillion heard the fear struggling to mute him. "They have torches and swords!"
Termillion looked into the corner for a moment, then nodded. "Go to Hester and tell her. Wake her up if you have to. Make sure all the caretakers and children know."
The boy fled, and Termillion walked to where his cloak hung. His arm strained when he picked it up. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Our final night together," he said to it as he pulled it over his shoulders. He raised the hood.
How can it be so heavy? he wondered. He shifted, and the folds clinked together. He chuckled, and began to unload the contents. A dozen knifes landed on his bed, points glittering, and nearly a hundred small slips of paper, both empty and covered in ink, joined them. The cloak became a great deal lighter, but it still wanted to pull his shoulders down.
He grabbed the door to swing it shut, but stopped. He looked back at the desk in his room, walked to it, picked up the journal, and slipped it inside a pocket of his cloak, against his heart.
Entering the tall, cold lobby of the building, he found the children and the caretakers. Briten strode toward him. "We're ready to evacuate if we need to, but there's nowhere to run," she said. "In the fields they can catch all of us."
He nodded. "They won't get to you," he said. "I promise." Without another word he went through the front door and found what must have been a hundred dark cloaks, illuminated in circles of flickering torchlight. Many of them had blue sigils burning on their exposed skin. White snow drifted down in small dots. He stepped across the thin snow on the ground until he was close enough to the one-handed woman who led the crowd.
"It's about time you showed your face!" Ummi shouted. "Where's your whore? Is she too tired to come out and see the guests?" When Termillion said nothing, she continued. "I figured I should end this, finally. You've had your fun. Sending me little notes every time you dispatched one of my underlings. Quite weak, weren't they? It's an imperfect science, I'm afraid. It will be easier when I have some younger subjects."
Termillion's eyes widened. Ummi saw, and her grin stretched from ear to ear. "It was just bad luck Lissit came across us when we were at the other one, or this would all be different. I would have an army of tiny hellions, unable to deny my wishes. Well, a few months makes no difference. Move aside, old dog, and make this easier for everyone. I promise to give the woman a quick death."
He slipped into the groove. He remembered the first time he'd hugged Kayss. The first time she had smiled at him. The first time they had sparred, the first time she had struck him. He swelled with pride, remembering her astounding Master Gos and the tutors with unmatched ability. He remembered fatherly pride fill him, even when he thought she didn't know.
But she did know, thank God, thank the sea and the sky and the moon she knew. She loved him too. The most wondrous sound--I love you too--filled his ears, and he smiled.
"Go," he said, soft like the falling snow. "Leave this place. It is under my protection. I will not allow you to harm anyone within."
"You and what army?" Ummi shouted. "As you can see, I have my own, but where is yours? Idiot! What can you do?"
He sank into the groove, hoping to never leave. He opened his eyes, and he was half a foot from Ummi, who was reeling backward. His limbs flashed out, knocking her foot back, dropping her to a knee, and slapping her hand away.
"This old dog has learned a new trick," he said. "But you are still a bitch. I repeat myself. This place is under my protection. I will not allow you to harm anyone inside."
Ummi snarled and shoved herself away, falling over. She scrambled up. "Kill him! Toss his body into the magistrate's bedroom to show her what is coming for her!"
Termillion retreated through the shadows as the Umbris footsoldiers charged. His cloak, free of the weight of his weapons, churned around him. He would add no blood to it.
The first one tried to run him through with a sword, and he shifted to the side, grabbing his wrist and twisting the weapon out of it. He kicked down the Umbris' knee and tossed him down the slope, through the snow. The second overextended; all he had to do was slam his elbow into her nose and kick, shoving her onto her back with blood spilling down her face.
The third swung, but somehow missed hitting Termillion by an inch. Termillion dispatched him with a blow to the face and the legs. Another rose up behind him, but a moment passed and Termillion hammered his hand into the back of the man's neck. Two more appeared, and their swords passed through thin air. He flowed from one to the other, getting them down to their knees, then their backs, then picked up their weapons and shoved them into the ground, to the hilt.
"Kill him! Kill him!" Ummi's face looked like is was about to burst. She pointed her sword forward. "Attack!"
Termillion spread his footing on the wet snow. Ummi's army looked up the hill at him, and didn't move. "He isn't even using his runes, you lazy cowards! Kill him!" Ummi's voice took on a hint of pleading, and a few blue runes glowed hotter. The people connected to them gritted their teeth and shut their eyes, feeling pain flow into their bodies, and they began to step forward.
Termillion watched them approach. Fear pushed them from both directions.
He put his hood down. Snow got in his black, gray-flecked hair, and melted on his thin cheeks and stubble. He pulled his cloak off, revealing long, lean arms, strengthened from years of climbing and fighting. His hands, gnarled and bulky, curled into fists.
The closest Umbris got one of them in her diaphragm as Termillion shadowwalked up to her. He darted away, landing a kick upside another's nose. He shadowwalked behind another one, planted a foot in front of his, and then turned him on his head. He returned to the top of the hill, reviewing his work.
"Why do I let any of you live?!" Ummi howled. She squeezed her right hand, and a wave of pain washed over the Umbris behind her. "Kill him, kill him now! Or I will detonate every one of your heads!"
A few charged forward, blood hot, swords raised. This time, Termillion let them get close. The first feinted to the right, swinging her sword at the same time. Termillion stepped backward, then shadowwalked to her side, yanking the sword out of her hand. He stomped on her shin, punched her across the face, and then backhanded her. She fell, and another replaced her. This one was younger, and he didn't even have to shadowwalk, just step away and twist the young man's arm at the elbow. He heard a snap, and the man screamed. He shadowwalked backward, evading another attack. This one was older. A little.
He sent a flurry of attacks, movements and knowledge from decades of fighting blazing around his groove of kind memories. He struck the man's wrist, crushed a foot with his heel, gripped the man around the neck, used his other hand to grab the man's crotch, lifted him off the ground, and tossed. The body hit one of the other approaching Umbris.
There were three more close. One from the front, and one from each side. He darted backward, giving up more ground, and beckoned them forward with two fingers from his right hand. The two to his sides attacked as one, and their swords met in midair. The third had predicted Termillion would shadowwalk, and as soon as he discovered the right location, he lunged.
Someone appeared in his way. Hester, standing tall and with her cloak flowing around her in the snow, caused him to skid, his feet flying out from underneath him.
Hester faded, and Termillion glanced at the orphanage. He saw Hester, Isaac under one arm and keeping her upright, leaning against the door frame, face clenched from pain, and one hand pressed against her wound.
He pounced on the fallen Umbris, standing on his sword with one foot and stomping with the other. He spun, grabbed one of the other Umbris around the middle, and hurled her to the ground. He heard a snap, and turned toward the last of the three. This one was also young, and suddenly realizing his odds. He glanced at the back of his hand, where a blue rune glowed.
Termillion waited for him to decide. The Umbris swallowed--Termillion watched his apple bob. "I'm sorry Termillion," he said. Termillion didn't know him. "I have no choice."
"There are ways to rid yourselves of her runes," Termillion said. He twitched his head in Ummi's direction. The Umbris looked, and saw Ummi gripping her remaining hand. "I'll give you a chance. Make it look real."
The Umbris nodded and, truly, swung at Termillion to kill. Termillion slid out of the way--the child's strike was strong, but slow. He pounded a fist into the Umbris' back, grabbed the sword from his hand, and threw it down the hill. He drove the boy down and stomped on the back of his knee. The Umbris howled in real pain, and Termillion hauled him up, whispering an apology. He tossed the Umbris down the hill, and then looked at Ummi.
"Too easy, witch! Things have changed, as you can see! Every one of you could charge me at the same time, and it would take a hundred moments to dispatch a hundred of you."
Ummi appeared ready to butcher. "Shut your mouth! If you kill a hundred I will send a thousand after you! I will never stop sending them!"
"Kill?" Termillion looked around. The Umbris he had bested were groaning, holding limbs or flesh wounds. "I have killed no one here. The cloak of death is off my back, as you see. I will kill no more."
Ummi smiled--wide, toothy, bloodless--and raised her right hand, ready to grip it tight. "If you won't kill, then you will die!"
From behind, the Umbris Termillion had tossed down the hill grabbed her hand and sliced it from the arm with his sword.
"NO!" Ummi screamed, collapsing to her knees. She pressed the neutered limb against her. "You-" She turned at the Umbris, who held her hand like a trophy. The truth dawned on her.
Her army of Umbris, under the threat of pain and death, had followed her from the start. There was no threat now. A big one grabbed her collar and pulled her off her feet. "The magistrate would like a few words with you. But she can wait until we're done."
"No! Obey me! If you don't..."
"What? What will you do?" Another Umbris said. She lifted her hand, and watched a rune fade. "Nothing." She sheathed her sword. "To the carriages," she said. "Somebody wrap her stub." She looked at Termillion, and stepped toward him, separating herself from the group a small amount. "Thank you, Termillion. I ask your forgiveness. Many of us held out as long as we could. Those you see here...we are all that's left. She tortured us to death, or until we accepted her rule. Still she wracked us with pain. Ummi has crippled the Umbris. I name you leader, and let no creature of the shadow say otherwise."
Cheers rose. He opened his mouth in shock, but it closed quickly. He imagined the Umbris without Kayss. "No. I have my charges. They cower in the building behind me, thinking you come to tear them from their beds. Go. Take Ummi to her deserved fate. May she swing."
More cheers, and Ummi shouting curses. Bandages wound around her arm, and ropes wound around her body. The bundled her off, mocking and jeering at her. Defeated Umbris picked themselves up and limped after the group.
The Umbris who had spoken to him--Theresa was her name--turned to go but stopped. She looked back at him, the wind and snow pulling lengths of blonde hair in front of her face. "I cannot imagine anyone would attempt cruelty against you, or those you protect. But if they do, send a message to the Umbris. We are smaller...and likely the magistrate will reduce us further. But you have allies in us. We charged, and despite your abilities none have died. You could have swept this hill clean of your foes, but no. We live." She smiled at him. "If you are ever in the city I would receive you with honors, Deathless Termillion."
He watched her depart, and a few minutes later he heard the sound of dozens of carriages rolling away.
He scooped up his snow-soaked cloak. Kayss' journal lay among it, and he brushed the snow from the cover. He walked back toward the orphanage, and when he entered it Hester wrapped him in her arms.
"I'm sorry sir, she made me," Isaac said. "She said it was to help you."
"But you didn't need any help, did you?" Hester panted. Termillion put one of her arms over his shoulders. "You weren't killing them. Termillion, you weren't killing them."
"No."
Hester was weeping. "They're all still alive. Look, look, look what you can do if you stay your hand. The Umbris survive. The children are safe, Ummi will swing from hangman's turret. Look, look." Hester fell silent. "Kayss smiles at you."
"Yes."
"Sir?" Isaac said, under Hester's other arm. "Who was Kayss?"
They walked toward Hester's bedroom slowly. "I will tell you more in the morning," Termillion said. "For now, she is someone who has been teaching me a great lesson. It is not one I will forget."