Bck powder was an excellent fire starter.

  Ketch had meant to send a sizable fme up the tent's wall with one measily spark from her flint, creating a rge enough bze that she could escape in the confusion. At Selly's eager urging, the witch having never personally witnessed what she considered one of the greatest alchemical innovations in centuries, she'd pced her one-pound gss jar against the tent's wall, lighting it with her arms at their greatest extent and her head turned away, eyes squinted shut.

  Bck powder, it seemed, was not yet within the expertise of an alchemist.

  A hissing whoosh drowned out the chanting within the tent, a gout of pink fire and white smoke rocketing out of the jar like ocean waves forced through a narrow slot. Ketch's arms were engulfed to the elbow, blue scales turned bck in an instant, while her girlish scream of shock and pain ruined any chance at pretending the fire had been incidental.

  Not that there would have been any confusion, with the kind of bonfire she'd just created.

  Hands trembling violently as the waves of pain betedly soaked into her shattered awareness, she pulled her hood up and began a shaky sprint away from the tent. Shouts were already being raised across the camp, patrolling soldiers calling for water to be brought up from the river. Some seemed to think it was a mage's experiment gone wrong, while others thought a cannonball had somehow struck the camp. Whatever the case, they were converging upon her like ants on a carcass, and she had no time to form a better pn than running.

  With her Skill still activated, she could hear that the chanting had continued, but the words were shifting in volume, the speaker moving away from the fire. Recalling her experience in the Eliah estate, Ketch hurried her pace.

  In the back of her mind, even as she half-ran through the tent city, she felt Selly prying open the nguage of the chanting. Languages were recalled, compared, and discarded, first with the common Continental nguages of the current era, then slowly working her way back, century by century, until Selly was floating through her library, summoning tomes even more ancient than she. None of them shared the barest linguistic simirities, not even amongst the most ancient of known Elvish nguages, some hundred thousand years gone. She was convinced it was a nguage, at least. It had consistent usage of prefixes and suffixes, phonemes appropriately used, and was not spoken with the automaton precision of rote memorization. No, it most certainly was a nguage, but which?

  For once in her life, Ketch tried to separate herself from Selly's thoughts. The flies buzzing across her scales were growing ever more frequent, lingering for one second, then two, the alertness of those who remained in the camp growing with each passing moment. To aly the suspicions of others, who would see her as the sole individual running away from the scene of the fire, she turned back, affecting as much fear and shock in her posture as she could–

  Oh.

  The fmes had spread. She had been offered the jar of powder as a reject, its mixture imperfect. Apparently, that was because it failed to burn completely on ignition. Vibrant fiery sparks were floating down after the volcanic ejection, zily drifting on the breeze until, like demonic dragonflies, they lit upon the tents.

  And began to burn.

  What she'd meant to be one tent abze was now a half-dozen, and with such a roaring fire, even the day's meagre breeze was whipping it into a frenzy. Ketch watched as half-dressed stewards fled from tents, their arms bundled high with the most precious of their master's belongings, while others hurried directly to the soldiers who had formed a bucket brigade to insist that "No, my master's tent is truly the most important, you need to direct your efforts there," only for the firefighting soldiers to physically shove them aside, barreling directly for the King's tent. No amount of uppity snobbishness could convince a soldier that allowing the King's tent to burn freely would be met with anything more comfortable than a noose.

  "Hey!" A voice cried, a palm to her shoulder shoving Ketch to a halt. "Where are you going, Irregur?" The man towered over her, Captain's marks on his shoulders, a furious gre in his eyes.

  How did he recognized me as an Irregur? How did he see me at all? Ketch's panic rapidly spun away from her, questions begetting questions. What do I say? He's not a noble, but he's a Captain, that must mean he's a considerable Advancement, and a combat Css as well. But how did he know I was an Irregur?

  Selly's presence washed over her, bnketing her in the cool embrace of familiar scales.

  "Going to get water, sir," she quickly replied, ducking her head as subserviently as she could, so her hood would fall over her face. "To fight the fmes."

  "Ah," the Captain said, vanishing.

  Ketch's head snapped up, staring at the empty space that the man had occupied a moment before.

  Selly's thoughts filled her mind, a single word, shockingly intense.

  Run.

  Ketch ripped her dress off, throwing herself into a dead sprint. The chanting behind her grew in volume, rushing closer, and she did not turn around to see why until it abruptly fred to life, deafening, audible even without her Skill.

  A brown-robed person was walking towards her the calmest of gaits, the wooden mask that covered their face betraying nothing. Each step carried them the distance of ten, the ground itself molding to their whims in a fashion that almost pained her to comprehend. The chant continued unabated from beneath the mask, ominous and low.

  Ketch drew her mother's dagger and continued to sprint, heading for the river.

  Her panic may have been soothed by Selly's presence, allowing her to maintain a cohesive line of thought, but this was not without consequence. As their minds slipped to fit better together, the panic she so despised was molded, then superseded by, a festering frustration. A teeth-gnashing, throat rumbling growl, like the bent back of a circling shark guarding its territory. So potent was it that it began to bubble ever more across the bond, a noxious concoction that subsumed all others within itself.

  It had been centuries since something had dared to encroach upon their mien. Centuries more since they had something within it which they cared to protect. Fingers tightened on gss and wood, steps slowing, thoughts turning to confrontation.

  NO, Ketch's self thought, impressing it across their selves with all that could be mustered. Selly's soul reverberated to the tune of the word, formlessly twisting away, contrite.

  They would wait.

  But only so long, Selly whispered.

  Ketch regained her speed, diving to one side or the other when she felt the pressure of watching eyes recede. She hoped to lose the mage between the tents, but as she approached the river, the fewer shelters there were. She used these to her advantage, but it was little hope, the burning at the base of her spine inescapable.

  Others must have realized what was happening, because the mage was gathering a cluster of soldiers whose wounds had kept them from the battle. Few were seriously injured, mostly bandaged cerations and bound limbs that were awaiting a healer, and that meant they were still threat enough to give Ketch pause.

  Soon, far too soon, she reached the stream. It was a shallow thing, rarely coming up deeper than her hips, and it was soiled by the waste of thousands of soldiers. Water was water, however, and she waded in eagerly, moving for the far bank, where the empty fields awaited her. Soldiers began wading in behind her, but unlike Ketch, the water tugged at their legs, slowing their steps to awkward stumbles, while she moved as freely through the stream as she had through the open air.

  The mage, unfortunately, simply stepped over the water, standing on nothing. Infuriating.

  Now? Selly's thoughts intruded.

  Ketch wanted to rebuke the thought, but she couldn't even spare that effort. She'd hoped her Azarketi nature would allow her to escape by fording the stream, which would slow her human pursuers far more than her. If she made it far enough down the stream, where Sara had dug it into a deep canal that flowed underneath the fort, she could simply slip underneath and disappear.

  But not if this damn mage could step over the whole thing. He moved after her, still chanting, and what half-dressed, half-drunk soldiers he'd gathered were stumbling into the water after her. By then they had even been joined by some more respectable troops, heavily armed and armored. Her heart sunk when she caught sight of a trio of them advancing together, their breastptes embzoned with the symbol of a half-closed eye. The Night's Eye.

  Ketch spun in the river, which came up to her waist, and raised her dagger. The common troops paused at this, hesitating at the sight of an Irregur baring their teeth, but the mage and Night's Eye were unperturbed.

  Just what spell was that mage channeling, that he didn't dare pause it even in pursuit of a saboteur? He halted in space, the air beneath his feet warping slightly, and the Night's Eye paused too, gncing up at him.

  He waved them on with a hand.

  Ketch swore to herself, backing along the river.

  "Put down the knife," one of the Night's Eye called, a gravely yet feminine voice coming from her within helmet. "We're here to capture you, not kill you."

  "Like there's a difference," Ketch snapped, gncing over her shoulder to check her footing as she retreated.

  "There's really not," the woman replied, and this time Ketch caught the tones of an unhealthy rasp in her voice. "You're not a fighter. We could kill you if we want. The fact that we haven't says we're being honest, yeah?"

  "You'd swear by it?" Ketch asked. "That I'd be unharmed?" Her words dripped bitter sarcasm.

  "Far as your capture's concerned? Yeah, I'll swear to it. Can't say anything for what happens after, though."

  "Then I think I'll have to refuse," Ketch said. She briefly gnced for the hills where Noctie was sheltered. Gods, why couldn't this have happened at night?

  "You gonna fight us?" The woman scoffed, which turned into a cough. She briefly lifted her visor to spit, then dropped it with a cnk. "You've never killed before, have you, girl?"

  "No," Ketch said, free hand drifting towards her waist.

  "But I have," Selly rasped, a sandpaper hiss rolling out of Ketch's throat. Her free hand drifted lower, towards the right.

  The mage's chanting shattered as they straightened, reaching an arm out with a desperate cry. "Do not let her draw that dagger!"

  Several things happened within the same instant. The woman who had been speaking to Ketch nced through the water with impossible speed, throwing up a wake twice her height as a bck bde flew to her hand. Something gathered in the mage's hand, unseen, but roaring with energy.

  And Selliana ughed.

  Ketch felt herself ripped apart, infinitesimal fragments of her body physically torn and thrown skyward, racing through the air. Her mind went with them, broken into pretty little shards which the spell collected with gentle hands, re-knitting her into existence some ways away. She was at home, wrapped in green tendrils, cradled by warm waters.

  And Selliana stood in a river, a bck bde biting into her thigh, steel through her gut, a hammer in her skull, and pinned in pce by a titanic bolt of energy that entered her head and exited the soles of her feet.

  She was ughing.

  "Truly, children?" Selliana cackled, bck blood gurgling from her lips. "The Goddess Amarat sends an ally unto her Champion, and you think to challenge them?" The scent of rot began to fill the air, river bubbling green. The cultist fell from their ptform of air, all effort directed towards their next spell. More blows cut into Selliana's neck, her chest, her heart. Her eyes lolled, distended, looking down at the mercenaries. "This is no pce for children. Be gone now."

  And with the sound of rushing air, the mercenaries were gone.

  Deep in the bay of Tulian's harbor, Ketch smiled, snuggling herself deeper into the matted vines. It had been so, so long since she'd slept at home. Surely her father would understand if she took a brief nap before coming up to say hi?

  Rest, guppy, Selliana whispered, and Ketch did.

  A mage began to scream.