Alara asking me for help was definitely not something I had expected to hear, but given that she was actually talking to me these days and almost being nice, I didn't want to dwell on the surprise too long. "What's up?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled forth the letter she had received after we had returned from the Brackenflow. The one from her sister. She handed it to me.
I noticed that Alara's name on the envelope was written in a looping and elegant hand. It also smelled faintly of lilac.
I opened it.
"Alara,
I have started this letter so many times I have lost count. I am not sure I will finish it this time either, but I am going to try, because I think if I wait for the right words I will be waiting until I am too old to hold a pen.
I do not know what they told you, after. I do not know what you were told you could keep and what you were told to give up. I was told nothing. I was told it was handled, and that I should be grateful it was handled quietly, and that asking further questions would not help either of us. I believed that, for longer than I am proud of. I have since learned that believing what you are told and being told the truth are not always the same thing, and that the people who insisted I stop asking questions were not doing so for my benefit.
I am not writing to ask you to forgive me for the silence. I do not think I have earned the right to ask you for anything yet. I am writing because I cannot do it anymore — the silence, I mean — regardless of whether I have earned anything.
There is a place. The fountain courtyard behind the Cartographer's Guild, three streets from the western market. Tuesday evenings are quiet there. I do not know if you will come. I will be there anyway, because at least then I will have tried, and trying is the only thing I have left that nobody can take from me.
I am sorry. For all of it. For what I know and for what I don't, and for not finding a way through it sooner.
Your sister, Veyla"
I read it a second time, taking in a whole lot of new information very quickly.
The sister Alara had told me about in the training yard — the one who dragged her into the gardens, who joined a C-rank party with a pompous name, who she'd waited for on stone benches. The one she hadn't seen in years for reasons Alara still hadn't explained and I still hadn't asked about.
A mage in Silver Fang. Which meant the woman who wrote this letter answered to Varkas.
I read the middle part again. The part about being told to stop asking questions, and the people who insisted on it not doing so for her benefit. I thought about everything I'd learned recently — LeGrange, Sister Maren, the buried reports, Silver Fang following orders they didn't understand. I thought about how many people in this story had been told a version of events and believed it because believing it was easier than the alternative.
Veyla was starting to notice the seams. I recognized the feeling.
I folded the letter carefully along the creases it already had and handed it back. Alara took it and returned it to her pocket, her movements precise in the way they got when she was holding something together. "Tuesday," I said. "That's tomorrow."
"I know."
"Are you going?"
She didn't answer right away. She looked at a point on the wall over my shoulder, jaw tight, and I got the sense she'd been having this exact argument with herself for days and hadn't won it yet. "I don't know," she said finally. "That's the problem."
"Would it be that hard to see her?" I asked curiously.
She looked saddened by the question. "More than you know."
"Do you think she's been coming to this place every Tuesday?"
Alara nodded. "Knowing my sister, she's shown up at the exact same time every Tuesday without fail every week since I got the letter."
"I think you should go."
She sighed. "That was the conclusion I am coming to as well. With everything that's been happening with the dungeons and the Guild, we need answers that Veyla is singularly qualified to answer."
"And also, you want to see your sister, right?"
"Obviously."
"Right."
I shuffled my feet awkwardly for a moment. "So what did you need me for?"
She suddenly became incapable of eye contact. "I need someone to come with me to keep an eye out. In case something bad happens. Veyla is in Silver Fang. We don't know what's going on."
"So you need me to protect you?"
She pulled a face. "Don't be an idiot. I need someone to keep watch from a hidden position. And to back me up if necessary."
"Do you really think it's that dangerous?"
As she prepared to answer, I saw her face change. She looked almost pleading, slightly afraid. "Lorne. Please. Just back me up."
I felt my stomach clench briefly. She needed me there. And I didn't think it was for what she was telling me. "Yeah. I've got your back."
She sighed in relief. "Thank you. Meet me in the foyer tomorrow at sundown. If you're late…don't be late."
I smirked. "Don't worry. I'll be there."
She nodded and strode off without another word, leaving me with my thoughts and a burning question.
Just who exactly was Alara Veyne?
Alara found me in the foyer at sundown.
She had done something to her hair.
She didn't say much on the way, which was normal, but it was definitely stemming from the obvious tension she was feeling. Her gait was stilted and reluctant, as if her body were trying to make her stop."It'll be okay." I said, calmly.She glanced at me out of her periphery. "Don't be so sure.""What makes you so unsure?"She shook her head. "Veyla is one of the foremost mages in the Empire. A member of Silver Fang. Even the Scholars Enclave defer to her ability. She's a prominent political figure because of it. Based on what I know and what she wrote in the letter, her even proposing this meeting is risky for her. We both need to be on guard."I nodded. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe.""As if. More like you warn me of danger and I handle it.""You got it." I did my best not to smirk.The courtyard was where the letter said it would be.
We reached it by way of a single narrow lane that ran between the back of the Cartographer's Guild and a row of shuttered shopfronts, the kind of passage you'd walk past a hundred times without noticing it led anywhere. It opened up without warning into a small square of old stone, hemmed in on all sides by the backs of buildings that had long since stopped paying it any attention.
A fountain stood at the center. It was old — older than the buildings around it, I thought, though I couldn't have said why I thought so — carved from pale stone gone grey at the edges, a basin ringed by worn figures whose faces had been smoothed away by centuries of weather. Water still moved through it, though, spilling in a thin, steady stream from somewhere near the top and pooling below with a sound that filled the space without being loud. Enough to soften footsteps. Enough to keep a conversation from carrying past the walls.
Whoever had chosen this place had chosen it carefully.
The light was going fast. The sky above the courtyard had gone the deep orange of a sun already behind the rooftops, and the shadows in the corners of the square had thickened into something close to dark. A few lanterns hung unlit along the walls. Nobody had come to light them. Nobody, it seemed, came here at all.
Alara stopped at the mouth of the lane.
She looked at the fountain, and the empty benches around it, and the last of the light draining off the stone, and for a moment she didn't move at all.
"She's not here yet," she said.
I couldn't tell if she was relieved or not.
As I gazed around the enclosed space, I felt a deep unease settle in. We were definitely being watched. By who, I couldn't say. I told Alara as much, very quietly. She nodded determinedly and said nothing in response.I carefully made my way around the fountain and into the shadows at the far end of the courtyard, where the light had already given up entirely and a recessed doorway offered enough cover to make it difficult to notice my presence without making me blind. From here I could see the whole square — the fountain, the benches, the mouth of the lane we'd come through, and the second entrance on the opposite side that I hadn't spotted until now.
Two ways in. That was worth knowing.
I settled in and went still.
It came more easily than it should have. The stillness. I found a position where nothing about me would catch the eye, adjusted my weight so I wouldn't need to shift it later, and slowed my breathing without deciding to. My body knew how to do this. It knew how to disappear into a doorway and wait, the same way it had known how to give orders at the Brackenflow, the same way it had known how to read a man by his boots and his broadsheet.
I filed the thought away with all the others I didn't have answers for.
Alara stayed by the fountain. She had chosen the opposite approach to mine — not hiding, but visible, standing where anyone entering from either lane would see her immediately. She wanted to be seen. That was the point. She had come here to be found.
She stood very straight, hands folded in front of her, and waited.
The light finished draining out of the sky.
And then, from the far lane, someone came.I had remembered seeing Veyla with Silver Fang on the street all those weeks ago. Her perfect poise, beautifully braided long hair that I was gathering was an elven tradition, crystal blue eyes. She appeared to be as youthful as Alara, even though I knew she was considerably older. She wore muted blue robes and did not carry the staff I had seen her with. She was beautiful. Almost ethereal.She stopped about ten paces from where Alara waited. They stared at each other in silence for several moments. Then Veyla spoke.I couldn't hear her from this distance, but I found myself watching her lips and understanding her."Hello, sister." Her expression was sad and apprehensive.Alara stiffened."Hello, Veyla."
For a long moment neither of them moved. They stood there in the failing light, two women who looked close enough in age to be mistaken for one another and who were, I understood now, separated by something far wider than the distance between them.
Veyla spoke again. I caught it off her lips.
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"You look well."
Alara didn't answer right away. When she did, I almost missed it — she'd turned her head slightly, and I only got part of it.
"You too."
It was such a small, ordinary thing to say. Two people who hadn't spoken in years, and the first thing they could manage was the kind of thing you'd say to an acquaintance you passed in the street. I understood it, though. Some conversations were too big to walk straight into. You had to circle them first. Test the ground.
Veyla took a step closer. Alara didn't retreat, but something in her posture changed — a bracing, a readiness to bolt that she was holding down through sheer effort.
Veyla stopped. She had seen it too.
She stayed where she was, and she spoke again, and this time whatever she said was longer. I caught pieces. Words I could read and words I couldn't, her face doing more than her mouth — something careful and pained working across it as she spoke, like she was setting each word down gently for fear of breaking it.
Alara listened. Her back stayed straight. Her hands stayed folded.
But her shoulders were beginning to shake.Then I saw Veyla say something that could not be mistaken."I knew you. And what they told me didn't sound like you."That's when I saw that Alara had begun sobbing. I could hear that too. Hard, broken, choking cries that hurt my heart to hear. She still did not move. I was silently begging her to go to her sister. To embrace her. To start mending whatever gap they had between them and figure out the rest later.None of that happened. Alara continued to weep heartbrokenly and Veyla was paralyzed with uncertainty. She stepped forward again and her sister retreated a pace back.Then Alara spoke again, and I could see it clearly as well."Why did it take you so long?"Veyla then proceeded to say something about a cat bathing in chocolate pudding and I realized she had switched to Elvish.Alara responded in kind, her voice caught somewhere between despair, anger and pleading. The fact that I could hear it told me how emotionally compromised she was.I continued watching, and as I did, the unease I felt increased. Someone or something was here.He came from the second lane.
Not walking — he was simply there, at the mouth of the passage, in a way that made me certain he hadn't just arrived. He'd been there. Long enough to hear whatever there was to hear. He'd let it play out, and now, for reasons of his own, he'd decided it was time to be seen.
He was broad and shaven-headed, robed in the same muted colors Veyla wore, though his were belted for movement rather than ceremony. Dark lines of ink wound up both forearms and disappeared beneath his sleeves, and more of it climbed the side of his neck to the edge of his jaw. He held no weapon. He didn't look like he needed one. I recognized him.Silver Fang's monk. The mysterious warrior from the Southern Reaches.
Both sisters turned toward him at once.
Whatever had been happening between them stopped happening.He continued to approach with casual ease – the kind that carried a threat. I crept closer. I needed to get in earshot now.
He spoke in a deep, resonant voice and while he spoke the common tongue, it was heavily accented."Veyla Veyne. You disobey orders of Varkas."Veyla's brow furrowed and I saw her hand move underneath her robe. "Duran. Why are you here?""Duran just tell you.""How did you find me?""Duran watch you leave Guild Hall. Follow. Easy. Elf no hear Duran."Alara was slowly walking backward as he spoke. Her tears had dried and she was staring at the man with a simmering anger. The kind that you maintain while forming a plan.Duran spoke again. "You under strict orders to not contact sister. Put Silver Fang reputation at risk.""You have no business in tailing or interrupting my private life, Duran," Veyla spat."Business is Varkas orders. Duran bring you back for punishment."
Alara adopted the stance she used for casting. "Just try it."Veyla looked at her sister with hope in her eyes.What happened next was almost too fast for me to see. I blinked and Duran was on her. Veyla's moment of inattention was an opening. The monk landed four precise blows on her torso and arms before I could even register what was happening. The mage collapsed."Now elf no do magic."He turned his attention to Alara."Elf sister make problem. Duran fix."He cracked his knuckles and advanced on her.I had no choice now. I had to act. But how?I suddenly knew exactly how and was disturbed at how I knew.
I could see, glowing in the center of the man's torso, a swirling ball of mana. Long trails of it coursed from the orb throughout his body. Somewhere in my mind, I could tell he was extremely powerful.Then I saw something else: a glowing patch, just under Duran's chin.The monk had taken two steps before I moved. I spoke as quietly as I possibly could, focusing my mind only on what I needed to do as if I had put blinders on."Shadow Art: Night Step. Activate."I was suddenly no longer across the courtyard. I was in the air above Duran's head and my body felt like it was acting on its own accord. My right foot swung out, connecting with the man's head.To my surprise, he crumpled like a pile of laundry. From the pain in my shin, I could feel how hard I hit him. The moment I touched the ground I saw Alara's expression of shock and relief."Lorne!"I looked from her to Veyla, who was conscious, but immobile on the ground."Heal her."She nodded and rushed to her sister."Healing Art: Major Restore. Activate."Within moments, Veyla was able to sit up. "Fucking monks," she said wearily.I walked over and offered her my hand to help her up. She accepted."What exactly was all that?" I asked.Veyla sighed deeply. "He's a Mage Slayer monk. Specifically trained to fight magic users. He can hit pressure points to disable our mana."She stared venomously at the unconscious man on the ground."Varkas keeps him around as a contingency."
To my shock, she spat on him. It was an act that completely belied the calm Elven demeanor I had seen in her previously. She then looked over at me."You must be Lorne," she said matter-of-factly."Yeah. How'd you know?""Varkas.""Of course."She shook her head. "I see what he meant about you. You just knocked out a member of Silver Fang with one kick. You have power.""I surprised him and got lucky.""Still."She didn't seem angry, and her voice wasn't accusatory. "Thank you for saving my sister."I looked over at Alara, who stood, in shock, where I had left her. She didn't speak."I have to get back to the Guild Hall. I'm going to take Duran with me and modify his memory. No one can know about this."I blinked slowly. "You can just modify his memory?"She nodded. "Most powerful casters can. I know why you're asking. I can't tell you right now."She grabbed Duran by his belt. "Thank you again, Lorne. Alara, I'll be in touch again…if that's alright."Alara hesitated, then nodded mutely.Veyla waved a hand in a complex gesture. "Arcane Art: Teleport. Activate."And suddenly, both she and the monk were gone.I exhaled, relieved, and turned toward Alara, just in time to see her fist connect with my jaw. I reeled back, more from surprise than pain – Alara was an amazing caster, but not particularly capable, physically. "You idiot!" she yelled, her voice far too loud for where we were."What the hell was that about?!" I hissed, rubbing my chin.She looked furious, and was crying again. "That's twice you've saved my life!"I was incredibly confused. "So I get punched in the face for it?"She wound back for another swing and then stopped. Her shoulders slumped.
"Thank you. Thank you for the trap in the Ebon Maw. I never said that. But I need you to stop saving me. Stop stepping in to put your safety at risk for me. Idiot."I sighed. I knew what she must be feeling. "I'm your friend. It comes with the territory."She shook her head. "No! You can't get hurt for me. I'm –" she stopped, choking back another sob, "I'm not worth it."I stepped forward, acting purely on instinct, and pulled her into an embrace. She froze, but didn't pull away. "Wrong. Don't talk about my friend like that."After the shortest of beats, I felt her collapse in my arms, her renewed sobbing harder and more painful than ever before. I said nothing more, just held her silently. Eventually she quieted, pulling away gently and wiping her eyes."Please don't tell the team about this yet."
I nodded. "You got it."She steadied herself, pulling her composure back together. "I'm going home."
"I should go with you."She shook her head. "I'll be fine. You've helped me enough."I knew that arguing with her would be fruitless, so I just waved my hand dismissively.She stared at me for a long moment."Thank you again. Idiot."She strode from the courtyard without another word or a glance back.I collapsed onto a stone bench, legs shaking. Just what had all that been about? How was I able to read their lips? How was I able to consciously activate Night Step? How did I pull off that kick? And the newest, most pressing question: What was with the glowing I saw in Duran's body?"Console," I said to the empty air.The glow of the magical display seemed to darken the shadows around me. I looked over my Skill Array. Everything looked normal at first. My name, age, unknown place of origin. Then I saw the skill list."MOP PROFICIENCY I" was so faint it was almost gone, the text even more distorted than before. Below it, "SHADOW ART: NIGHT STEP IV" was where it always was.But below that was something new. In the same bold lettering:"SHADOW ART: THREAT ASSESSMENT III"My jaw tightened. What was going on? For every answer I got, more questions popped up to replace them. Now I had another Skill to figure out.I didn't register the world around me on the walk home. My mind was far too clouded. And I had the same thought that I'd had over and over again since waking up in the House of Healing.Who was I?