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[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki smiled, pleased by Kaydee’s thoughtfulness… then the smile froze and wavered a little as she considered the implications.

Kaydee had almost certainly left the fort to get the cookies. Uluki couldn’t think of any way they could have been produced at the base; Uluki intended to build an oven— with help from Zee or Rollick to lift the heavier stones, of course— but there just hadn’t been time yet. For the moment, cookies would have to come from elsewhere, and that thought was worrisome.

Uluki certainly didn’t expect Kaydee to spend her entire life at the base. Yes, it was safe here, but a person couldn’t live in a protective bubble, never venturing out into the world. Uluki just wished that Kaydee could have saved her venturing for a few more days, till the situation with Snyde was… resolved. Stepping outside your own door always carried risks, not just from cruel and unscrupulous people, of whom there were far too many, but from freak accidents of all kinds. Uluki was realistic enough to know that sometimes tragedy simply couldn’t be prevented, and she didn’t expect Kaydee to put everything on hold on the off-chance something might happen to her. Uluki herself certainly didn’t.

No, the problem was that Kaydee had a brutal thug after her, a man who had already once tried to take her life, and had nearly succeeded. If Snyde saw her again, if he passed her in the street and noticed her… the best she could hope for would be to escape with her life, and she would certainly suffer greatly. More likely this time Uluki would be tending to her dead body rather than her devastatingly wounded one.

Thinking about how horribly injured Kaydee had been, all the pain Uluki had seen and felt when she had healed her, made Uluki’s heart ache. The possibility of Kaydee’s death was even worse. Uluki tried to push the image from her head, but she couldn’t banish it… Kaydee attacked again, lying bleeding and broken in a gutter somewhere with her life ebbing, her hand still cradling the cookies she had intended to bring Uluki’s family joy, instead the cause of great sorrow as they mourned the loss of a friend… a friend whose worth was far greater than any material gift she could bring them.

“Kaydee, that’s very, very kind of you,” Uluki said, summoning the smile back to her face. “Of course we’re happy to share. It was very thoughtful of you to remember. I’m sure this will be wonderful.” Uluki broke the cookie in half and handed the other part to Rollick. She took a bite, savouring the taste, and it was as delightful as Julen had suggested.

“Yes, this is delicious, thank you,” Rollick agreed. He obviously didn’t want to spoil the moment, but his thoughts had been along the same lines as Uluki’s. “Kaydee, perhaps for the next little while, until Snyde is dealt with, you could consider taking someone with you when you need to leave the base. I would be happy to accompany you if you have errands to run, and I would do my best not to get in your way. I’m sure the other warriors would also be willing if they were available. Not forever, of course, just while Snyde is still at large. I would hate for…” He didn’t go into any further detail. Kaydee would remember better than anyone the extent of what Snyde was capable of. Rollick sounded a little apologetic, feeling like he was interfering in something that was none of his business, but at the same time deeply concerned about her wellbeing. “Anyway, thank you for the cookie.”

Another horrible thought crossed Uluki’s mind. Where had Kaydee gotten the money? Uluki hoped desperately that Aorle or Julen had given it to her, or that she’d borrowed it from one of her other friends. Uluki knew for a fact that Kaydee hadn’t brought any money with her— she hadn’t brought anything at all— but maybe Jenny, Becky, Masha, or Louise had. Or maybe Kaydee had found some odd job she could do, some way of making a little spending money on her own.

Please, please let one of those things be the case… because the thought of Kaydee selling her body in order to provide these gifts was too painful to bear. Uluki didn’t like that any woman or girl was forced to do so, for any reason, but while she couldn’t change what their friends had to do in the past in order to survive, she was horrified to think of such a sacrifice being made to provide a present, a luxury for Uluki herself, who was already so lucky.

Once she and Rollick got paid, they should make sure each of the refugees had a little spending money. Their basic needs were provided for, and that was good, but they should have some means to use at their discretion too. Not a large sum— that wasn’t even possible— but enough that if something like this should come up, there would be no doubt. They wouldn’t have to return to their old lives to get what they needed. Desperation wouldn’t force their hands. Uluki couldn’t imagine willingly working for Snyde; she doubted that if these women had any other way of making money, they ever would have been prostitutes in the first place. The refugees would need money sometimes, just as anyone would, and Uluki had no illusions about whether they would feel they could ask for it. Better to make it so they didn’t have to ask.

It wasn’t the thought of Kaydee having sex that bothered Uluki. Kaydee was very, very young, and while Uluki thought it would be much better for her to wait until she was ready emotionally and her wounds were not so fresh… it was Kaydee’s body, Kaydee’s choice. Uluki would happily give advice if Kaydee wanted it, but she had neither the desire nor the right to dictate. No, the thought that so upset her was of Kaydee feeling forced to give herself to a man who didn’t respect her, who didn’t love her, who saw her as an object to be bought and sold rather than a cherished partner. Uluki knew the kind of rough, even brutal treatment men often subjected prostitutes to, and the thought of Kaydee’s delicate body being used for that purpose again…

Uluki couldn’t change anything that might have happened today, and she didn’t want to pry into details that weren’t any of her business to know. Still, she offered the only help she could provide. “Kaydee, did you… did you get hurt at all today? Do you need me to heal you?”

[Falcon Bertille]

Kaydee beamed while Rollick and Uluki enjoyed their cookie. She knew it was just a small thing, nowhere near as special as the dress that Uluki had given to her, but doing something nice for them still made Kaydee feel good. It made her feel proud, like she’d felt when she helped build the fortifications. It made her feel like she could actually contribute something worthwhile to this place that she already thought of as home.

But Kaydee’s expression changed abruptly when Rollick broached the subject of taking an escort with her when she went out. Her smile vanished, and she cringed, like a mouse that suddenly found itself trapped in the middle of a room, far from the safety of its hole and surrounded by stomping feet. She’d made a mistake! Regardless of how gently Rollick spoke to her, or how much concern for her lay within his words, his critique was the one thing that penetrated Kaydee’s frightened thoughts. She’d made a mistake. In Kaydee’s world, only two options existed -- doing something right and being left alone, or doing something wrong and being punished. The concept of someone pointing out an error because they cared about her, because they wanted to protect her from harm, was completely alien.

“I tried to take one of the warriors, but everybody was too busy.” The excuses rushed out of Kaydee in a jumble of truth and lies. It was the only form of defense she knew. She hadn’t been able to run from Snyde, she hadn’t been able to fight back against him. All she’d been able to do was try to make it not her fault. “I didn’t want to be any trouble. And I was really careful while I was out. I stayed away from the shanty town, and I kept my face hidden, so people wouldn’t recognize me. But from now on, I’ll always take someone with me. I will. I promise.”

Uluki’s question also set off warning bells. Had she guessed? Did she know? No, Kaydee convinced herself, Uluki was only asking because she knew that Kaydee had spent the day doing physical labor. “I’m a little sore after working on the fortifications,” she confessed. “But I don’t mind. It makes me feel like I really did something.”

Then, eager to direct everyone’s attention away from her, Kaydee changed the subject. “Dash was talking to me, and she realized something really smart. I think she should tell you about it.”

[Lylessa Uluki]

Rollick caught Uluki’s eye when it seemed he had frightened Kaydee. He was dismayed; he hadn’t intended to upset her, and this was the third time today a teenage girl had acted scared of him for no readily apparent reason. It made him feel like he must be doing something wrong, and his expression conveyed his bafflement. What did I say? Rollick’s eyes asked his wife.

Uluki shook her head almost imperceptibly. It wasn’t you that scared her, love. She was scared long before you ever met her. Uluki aimed that thought in Rollick’s direction along with the head-shake, hoping he’d at least pick up her basic meaning, if not the nuances.

Reassured that he hadn’t committed some horrible social gaffe without being aware of it, Rollick smiled sincerely at Kaydee. “I’m glad to hear you took those precautions, and I’m glad you’re back safely. It was so kind of you to think of us.” Seeing how shy Kaydee generally was, he doubted she’d made her request to the warriors assertively enough for them to understand what she needed, if she’d even made it outright, rather than seeing they weren’t standing idle and just assuming they were too busy to help her… ever.

When the frightened look crossed Kaydee’s face again when Uluki spoke of healing, it seemed to confirm Uluki’s fear. Suddenly the cookie tasted like ash, like sacrifice. She forced herself to keep eating it, and not to let her expression slip. What was done was done, and there was no sense making Kaydee feel bad about her gift. Uluki felt like she should say something to Kaydee… some kind of reassurance, or some offering of comfort, an affirmation… but she was at a loss for words, and she didn’t want to neglect her own daughter’s needs. If Dash had something to say, Uluki would listen. Then she would worry about what to say to Kaydee.

Dash was starting to feel sleepy and sick again… but that was all the more reason to get this out as soon as possible. Glancing over at Kaydee for support, she summarized as quickly as she could what was going on, pointing out several times that the situation wasn’t Kira’s fault.

It never would have occurred to Uluki or Rollick to blame her, even as they listened with concern to what Dash was telling them. It was obvious to them that Kira was also a victim, not the cause of the problem— that lay solely at Panterras’s door. Kira, however, did not have the same view of the situation. Her face was the picture of horrified contrition as she wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingernails into the skin of her arms hard enough to leave red marks. “Kira, sweetheart, don’t…” Uluki implored her gently, reaching toward her to try to take her hands, but Kira jerked away and wheeled around to face Rollick, extending her neck and baring her throat. Rollick was puzzled, not understanding, and Kira, frustrated, gestured wildly toward herself, then wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the sword hanging from Rollick’s belt, trying to jerk it out of its sheath. She had neither the hand strength nor the coordination to accomplish it, but her meaning was plain. “No way in hell, Kira,” Rollick said, trying to keep his voice even and not reveal how deeply she was hurting him. “I’m not going to harm you. No one is. We’re going to help you.”

Kira shook her head violently, but from the expression on her face it was clear it was not refusal but despair. Too late, too late… she seemed to repeat with every movement. She resumed the gasping weeping that had gripped her periodically during the evening, this time with larger tears. Kira turned an apologetic look at Dash, who smiled wanly to acknowledge it, then had to look away.

“Kira, listen to me,” Uluki said gently. “It doesn’t have to be this way. This isn’t the end. You have a choice to make now, and either way, it’s going to be alright.”

Kira hung her head, and started to shuffle toward the door. She’d started to have hopes about living here, faint, flickering hopes, but the best ones she could ever remember having. She couldn’t continue to hurt Dash, though. A two-way choice meant stay or go, and what she wanted wasn’t possible. She couldn’t remain here, not after this. Even if they let her stay, they would always hate her for doing damage to Dash, who was a beloved daughter and friend… but they could never hate her as much as she would hate herself. Kira could only leave, taking nothing with her but regrets and… no, just regrets. She should give the locket back.

Dash’s voice was weak. “Don’t go, Kira! Please, don’t go! Mama, Papa, tell her to stay… I don’t care if I’m sick. I don’t want you to leave. I’ll be fine; don’t worry about me.”

Uluki tried to touch Kira again, and this time succeeded, wrapping her arms around the girl and holding her unresisting body close. “We aren’t going to make you go away. That isn’t even an option. We’re going to make it safe for you and Dash both, and if you want to stay, we want you to. I… my family sent me away when I was young. Older than you, but… still young.” Uluki hadn’t known about years at the time, and the Fae lifespan wouldn’t compare exactly anyway, but Kira was only thirteen, and Uluki had been old enough to get married— a youthful bride, but old enough none the less. “It almost broke me. I wandered alone for a long time, and no one liked or wanted me. I don’t blame them, not everyone is willing to put up with someone who clings as tightly as a cocklebur. My family, though… they shouldn’t have sent me away. They had every right to be angry at me, but you aren’t supposed to just throw away the people you care about. You’ve done nothing wrong, Kira. No one is angry at you. This isn’t your fault. Even if it was, we wouldn’t make you leave. I’m never going to let that happen to you.” Then, as an afterthought, “Or my daughters, or Kaydee, or anyone here.” She looked over at Kaydee to reinforce the point. Uluki didn’t know for sure if that was a concern for Kaydee… but it had been for Uluki herself for years, till she got married, till Rollick patiently taught her not to be scared anymore, that she wouldn’t have to be alone again. In Uluki’s own experience, desperation for approval stemmed from fear of being abandoned. It was a feeling she knew intimately. “We stick together.”

She stroked Kira’s hair, still hugging her. “I’m going to heal Dash, and then you’ll decide what happens next. Sending you away isn’t a possibility. Either you can live here and we do what we can to keep you away from Dash… or I can heal you too. I told you I wouldn’t do it without your permission, and I won’t, but if that’s what you want, it will help both of you.”

She said no more, just released Kira and hugged Dash, speaking quietly to her daughter. “You’re so strong, and you’ve been so unselfish about this. I’m so proud of you.” She kissed Dash’s forehead, standing just slightly on tiptoe to reach, then healed the damage she had absorbed.

Kira was still for a moment, looking at Dash, watching the healing, wondering if she was brave enough to bear it. Dash didn’t seem to be hurting, but maybe she just handled pain well. Kira didn’t trust Uluki enough yet. She didn’t, she couldn’t, believe this wouldn’t hurt. It was too soon, and she was scared of the magic, scared of the inevitable pain. But what if separating her from Dash didn’t help? What if she still caused her to suffer? Dash didn’t deserve that. That was what finally made up Kira’s mind. She would allow Uluki to do the magic… not for herself, she was still terrified of the idea, but because it would help Dash. Kira reached out a hand toward Uluki.

Uluki took it, and began to channel her healing magic into Kira’s body. Almost the same instant, she realized it wouldn’t be enough. There was too much damage, too many years of pain. Uluki had never felt anything like this. Kira was suffused with negative energy, dark magic, the blood of demons… none of it her fault, but all of it combining to saturate her whole being. Uluki could pour positive energy into her for days and days, exhaust herself, and there would still be too much left. Both Kira and Dash would still suffer. There was another way, though. Uluki reversed the connection, drawing the poisonous taint out of Kira’s body into her own. She gasped softly but audibly at the onslaught of pain, and Kira moved to pull back, but Uluki smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hands. “I was built for this, Kira. It won’t hurt me like it hurts you. My body can repair itself. My energy will heal this on its own.” Not instantly. It would hurt for a few days. But Uluki would get better.

It took several minutes, but gradually a change came over Kira. Her spine slowly straightened, her fingers stretched and flexed a little, no longer immobile. She could feel other changes too: her hips loosening, her elbows relaxing, her joints unlocking. Ten years of hurt flowed away from her into Uluki, and for the first time since she was a tiny child, Kira wasn’t in any pain at all. She smiled, and realized her mouth felt different, and her throat didn’t seem so tight anymore. Maybe she could talk. “Th—tha—” She couldn’t believe those sounds were coming from her lips. Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. Kira was physically able to talk now, but she was years out of practice. It would take awhile to remember how to communicate with words. Still, the fact she finally could made her feel light, somehow. Free.

“You’re welcome,” Uluki said with a smile, but a slight rasp in her voice. Her lips were pale, her skin was rather greyer than usual, and her eyes weren’t quite so bright. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and a little jerky. Uluki barely noticed any of it, though, happy as she was to see Kira healthy. “I hope none of you are planning to report me for this,” she joked, though everyone in the room already knew she did magic, and she had complete faith in them. Then, feeling a little awkward, she changed the subject. “Dash, Kaydee, we have presents for you too.” She took a step toward the bag of gifts, wobbled, and Rollick took her arm and helped her sit back down. Once she was settled, he reached into the bag himself and passed them their gifts. Dash looked thrilled with the paints— that had been an easy gift, they knew she had wanted them even though she rarely talked about it— and they weren’t surprised how pleased she was.

As Rollick passed Kaydee the wooden keepsake box with the carved flowers, Uluki explained it, her voice still a little raspy and her tone nervous. She was less confident about this gift. “We weren’t sure what you would want,” she said a little apologetically. “I had a box like that when I was your age. It was a… a wedding present. I didn’t end up getting married then, which is a very good thing, but I always liked the box, so I thought maybe…” Uluki wondered what had ever happened to that box. She hoped her parents had given it back to… whoever gave it to her. She didn’t even remember anymore. Her memories from that time were mostly like faded watercolours. “Anyway, we thought you might like it.” She lowered her voice, so only Kaydee would hear. “You’re such a kind, sweet person, Kaydee. You’re no one’s whore. You don’t deserve that. You aren’t someone’s possession. You aren’t an object to be used. You’re far too important and special for that. If you need anything, please just ask, don’t…” If Uluki was wrong, if Kaydee hadn’t gotten the cookies in the way she suspected, she would probably assume Uluki was talking in general, or even rambling at random. If she had… well, Uluki had to say something, whether it made a difference or not. Uluki smiled her pale, tired smile, a smile of reassurance for all of them, and of gladness that they were here with her.

[Falcon Bertille]

As it became apparent that neither Rollick nor Uluki intended to punish her, Kaydee’s fear turned to relief. She hadn’t messed up too badly this time. Or, if she had, she’d at least managed to keep her transgression from being discovered. Returning Rollick’s smile with one of her own, Kaydee nodded fervently. “Thank you! Next time, I’ll be sure to ask you. I’ll do it just like you said.”

Then, Kaydee focused her attention on Dash. Even though she’d just listened to Dash reason out the situation with Kira, Kaydee still found it helpful to hear everything again. For a little while, she lost herself in Dash’s words, forgetting to watch the world around her.

But Kira’s attempt to grab the sword jolted Kaydee from her thoughts. “No!” she cried out, stumbling forward. Only her fear of somehow making it worse kept her from throwing her arms around Kira. Despite her rough life, Kaydee didn’t think of herself as broken. But Kira so clearly was -- broken in body, broken in spirit. Witnessing the full extent of her misery made Kaydee feel like a wild beast was gnawing on her heart.

“Kira...you can’t...you can’t give up,” Kaydee whispered, unconsciously repeating her own mantra. “No matter how bad things get, you have to believe that tomorrow might be a little bit better. If you don’t believe that...” Kaydee had seen what happened to her friends when they no longer believed. Some numbed their pain with drink. Others silenced it completely by throwing themselves in the Ofriyu Mar River. Kaydee didn’t want Kira to do either of those things. “If you don’t believe that...you just stop.”

Uluki’s story about being banished by her family surprised Kaydee. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want Uluki to leave -- she was so pretty, and kind, and talented. So what if she’d been clingy? People sometimes complained about Kaydee being too clingy, but that was only because she dragged them down. Kaydee couldn’t imagine Uluki dragging somebody in any direction except up.

Her faith in Uluki seemed to be confirmed when Uluki embraced first Dash, and then Kira. Kaydee couldn’t remember much about her own experience of being healed by Uluki. She’d been too scared and confused to even realize what had happened until much later. But she was pretty sure that Uluki hadn’t looked so grey and shaken afterwards. It must have taken a great deal to fix Kira. But just seeing her smile, seeing her almost talk, seemed to make Uluki forget any physical price that had been paid. And Kaydee’s own heart felt a lot better, too.

Best of all, as if to celebrate Kira’s recovery, presents were handed out. Kaydee had thought that nothing could top seeing a real angel that morning. However, this came close.

“Wow,” Kaydee whispered, taking the box from Rollick. Barely able to believe that it was real, she traced the shapes of the flowers that had been carved into the wood. “You didn’t have to get me anything else, not after you already gave me the dress. But it’s beautiful. I really like it. What do you think I should keep in it?”

But then Uluki spoke softly to her, hinting that she knew what Kaydee had tried so hard to hide, and Kaydee’s hands started to shake. It had all been a trick! Snyde did that sometimes -- pretended to have forgotten, or forgiven, or overlooked something. And then, just when Kaydee began to feel a slight blossoming of hope, he stomped it into the ground. Uluki knew. And at any moment, she would tell the others. She’d tell Rollick, and Zee, and Dash, who would no longer want to be Kaydee’s friends. She’d tell Aorle, who would never again call Kaydee his “little sister.” She’d tell Julen...oh gods, not Julen! “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I just bought some cookies. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t!”

As the last word exploded outward, the wooden box dropped from Kaydee’s trembling hands, falling to the floor with a clatter. For a moment, Kaydee just stared at it. With all the lies and excuses expelled from her body, she felt empty and scared. Stinging tears welled up in her eyes. She didn’t want to be a burden, not with Uluki still so tired from healing Kira. And Kira deserved everyone’s attention so much more than she did. But something inside Kaydee had been torn open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t just stand there and pretend that the wound wasn’t bleeding. Thoroughly ashamed, she sunk to the ground beside her keepsake box.

“I wanted to get everyone something, but I didn’t have any money, and I thought one more time wouldn’t matter. How could it? After hundreds and hundreds of times, how could one more hurt any worse?” Clutching the box to her chest, Kaydee started up at Uluki and Rollick with imploring eyes. “Please don’t tell Aorle. He said I was a lady, not a whore, but then I went and...please don’t tell him! I promise I won’t ever do it again. Not ever.”

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki moved across the floor toward Kaydee, scrambling rather painfully on her hands and knees to cover the few feet between them, every joint burning with the effort. She was, in spite of the situation, suddenly struck by how undignified she looked, how comical, even, but she was afraid that if she tried to stand up and walk instead, she might fall on Kaydee… which seemed unlikely to help matters.

Uluki was startled and horrified at Kaydee’s reaction to what she had said. She had only meant to try to help, to try to offer comfort, and look what she had done instead. Ruined everything. As usual.

“I’m sorry,” Uluki said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t know what to say sometimes, so it comes out wrong and I make people angry at me. I never meant to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad.”

She should have been more careful. She should have known what her words would sound like, she was just so tired and wasn’t thinking straight. Looking back now, of course, through the lens of hindsight, she could think of better ways to say it, things she should have done differently.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Uluki reassured her. After what Kaydee had just said herself, Rollick and Dash would know. Uluki assumed it would have gone over Zee’s head, and she wasn’t sure about Kira. “Not because you need to be ashamed or to hide, but because no one else needs to know. Though… Julen and Aorle may also wonder where the money came from if they find out about the cookies, so I can’t promise they won’t figure it out on their own, just that they won’t hear it from us. Telling them would be nothing but gossip; it would have no benefit.”

That was something Uluki felt she needed to be realistic about. Frankly, it wasn’t that hard to figure out, and she wanted to prepare Kaydee for that fact, so if the information did get out she wouldn’t assume Uluki or her family were responsible. She didn’t want Kaydee to think the trust had been betrayed if what seemed inevitable came to pass.

“I’m not mad at you, Kaydee. I’m just worried. I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I don’t want you to be in danger. I don’t want you to think… that the life of a whore is all that you’re good for, because that’s so far from the truth. Aorle is right about what he said. You are a lady, and you deserve to be treated like one. You deserve the best the world has to offer, not the worst. What matters isn’t anything you did or didn’t do, what matters is you.”

Uluki wouldn’t have thought there were any more tears in her tonight, but she was surprised to feel her eyes fill again. Her emotions were a tangle of sympathy for Kaydee and guilt for the part she had played in making things so hard for her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you with what I said. Just please… don’t leave.” Kaydee hadn’t threatened to, or given any indication it was a possibility, but it was a knee-jerk reaction for Uluki to worry about it. So many people had left. People who didn’t were the exception, not the rule. “Everything is going to be alright. As long as people stay together rather than leaving, everything always works out.” It sounded like a generic platitude, but Uluki believed it to the very core of her being.

Uluki put her arms around Kaydee, loosely enough that the girl could easily break away if she didn’t want to be hugged. Rollick rested his hand on Kaydee’s shoulder gently, making less physical contact than his wife did so as not to give Kaydee the wrong idea about his motives, but still wanting to reassure her. With his other hand he rubbed Uluki’s back, offering comfort to her too. Dash, her eyes bright with unshed tears and sympathy, knelt in front of them and laid her own hand on top of one of Kaydee’s. Though they knew they ran the risk of overwhelming the poor girl, they were unable to restrain themselves from doing what they could to show how much they cared about her.

“Please don’t worry, Kaydee,” Uluki said, trying not to cry but now without a free hand to wipe away the tears that ran down her cheeks. “Try not to be sad. Everything is going to be alright.”

[Falcon Bertille]

Kaydee shook her head when Uluki started saying how sorry she was -- not because Kaydee didn’t accept the fairy’s apology, but because she didn’t believe that Uluki was to blame. Unfortunately, the swirling storm of Kaydee’s emotions kept her from expressing any coherent thoughts. Instead, she stared at the ground, rocking her torso and clutching the keepsake box to her chest as if she expected someone to try and snatch it from her.

Uluki’s promise that she wouldn’t tell Aorle or Julen managed to calm Kaydee a little, but even the relief brought by that assurance felt thin and flimsy. Kaydee knew that Uluki was right. It wouldn’t take much to figure out where she’d gone, what she’d done. She’d thought she was being so clever, slipping off during the disorder caused by the angel’s appearance and then sneaking back before anyone noticed that she was gone. The need to explain where she’d gotten the money to pay for her gifts simply hadn’t occurred to her. Of course it hadn’t. She was so stupid! Snyde always said she was too stupid to survive without him.

“It’s not--it’s not your fault.” The first few words came with effort, like pushing stones up from her stomach, but at least they came. And after that, it was easier. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s me. It’s always me...”

Everything Uluki said sounded so nice. Kaydee wanted to believe that people cared about her. She wanted to believe that she deserved more than the life of a whore. But words were just words, and no matter how carefully chosen, it would take more than words to undo the damage done by her life with Snyde. However, they were a beginning. And sometimes the words which remained unspoken mattered more than those which were. The mere fact that Uluki wasn’t yelling at Kaydee, wasn’t calling her a sneak or a slut, wasn’t condemning her for what she’d done, helped Kaydee’s world begin to shift.

“Thank you for not being angry with me. And I promise that I won’t leave.” Kaydee wasn’t entirely sure why Uluki thought she might do any such thing. Where would she go? Still, Uluki seemed genuinely upset about the possibility, so Kaydee did her best to comfort her. “I don’t want to leave. I really like it here. I really like all of you.”

For a little, Kaydee sat still, absorbing the caring conveyed by each of the three people touching her. Perhaps Uluki was right. Perhaps staying together did make things better. It certainly seemed to work for everyone Uluki took into the shelter of her family. Perhaps it will work for me too.

“Maybe...maybe Aorle and Julen won’t learn about the cookies. I didn’t tell anyone that I bought them. And no one saw me give them to you. So maybe, if none of you say anything to them, they’ll never know.” That thought gave Kaydee a spark of hope. But almost as soon as her spirits started to rise, another thought shot them down. Setting down the keepsake box, Kaydee reached into the pouch where she’d carried the cookies and pulled out a metal charm in the shape of heart, which she slid sadly between her fingers. “I promised Julen that I’d make him a medal for saving me. So I got this. I chose a heart, because his heart is so kind, and I was going to hang it on some ribbon or a bit of cord. But if I give it to him, he’ll guess. He’ll figure out how I got the money to buy it.”

Again, Kaydee turned imploring eyes on the family around her. “Maybe I could tell him that I borrowed the money from you? Just this once? Just so I can give it to him, like I said I would?”

[Lylessa Uluki]

As Kaydee paused to soak up the caring directed toward her, Uluki too treasured the moment in her own way. They were so warm and alive, all of them, Kaydee who she was hugging, Rollick as he touched her so lovingly, her daughters close by, and Kira, finally able to make full use of her arms, holding baby Martin close. They made her smile. Uluki had never been one to draw a stark line between family and not-family, but it seemed like they were all family now… all of the people in the room, and Aorle and Julen and Rosemary, the Lightswords and the refugees, all the people here, all family together. Uluki liked that feeling. It was good to be close to them. It was good that Kaydee wouldn’t leave, that she and Kira would stay and heal. Uluki wouldn’t have to miss them, or worry about them off on their own somewhere. They were here, they were together, and she took a moment to just enjoy the connection they shared.

As for how to answer to Kaydee’s request, Uluki was deeply, deeply torn. On the one hand, Kaydee’s gifts had been chosen with obvious care and affection, and Uluki wanted her to be able to give Julen his present without worry or regret. On the other hand, lying didn’t seem like a good precedent to establish.

“What you choose to tell Julen is up to you, and we won’t contradict you. I think you should consider telling him the truth, though. He’s your friend. He cares about you. He won’t think less of you. You can trust him… and he needs to be able to trust you. Lying doesn’t lead to much trust. My advice to you is to tell the truth, to be honest with him if he asks, but you have to do what you think is right.”

Uluki really, really hoped Kaydee wouldn’t try to keep this secret from Julen. She hoped Kaydee would feel safe enough to talk to him openly. But it wasn’t something Uluki could— or should— try to pressure her about. Kaydee needed to learn to make her own decisions; taking orders from Uluki might be more pleasant than taking them from Snyde, but probably ultimately wouldn’t lead to any more growth. This was a safe place for Kaydee to practice some independence, to learn to have her own life.

“I’m sure Julen will appreciate your present. It’s very kind and thoughtful of you, just like the cookies were. You did a good job picking out gifts,” Uluki complimented her, quite genuinely.

“You could use one of our hair ribbons,” Dash suggested. “To hang it on, I mean. What colour did you want?”

Uluki had to stifle a yawn. It had been an exhausting day, and the thought of curling up next to Rollick, snuggling in his warm arms and falling asleep, was sounding more and more appealing. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should all head to bed soon?”

[Falcon Bertille]

As Uluki counseled Kaydee to tell the truth, Kaydee struggled with her own conflicted feelings. Should she? Did she dare? What would Julen think of her? Like a taunting phantom, the image of Rosemary formed in Kaydee’s mind. Pretty, healthy, quick with a needle and probably good at all sorts of domestic things. The perfect wife. She’d never sell herself to another man. She’d probably never had sex with anyone except Julen -- and oh, how Kaydee envied her for it! If Rosemary was the sort of woman Julen liked, Kaydee knew she’d never be able to compete. Telling him what she’d done to get the money for his medal would only confirm her unworthiness.

But Julen already knew that she was a prostitute. He knew that when he came to her rescue, he knew that when he held her in his arms, he knew that when he joked with her about the shirt. Yet, he still liked her. So maybe telling him the truth about the medal wouldn’t change anything. And Uluki certainly seemed to think that it was a good idea. Maybe she was right. Uluki, Kaydee reasoned, must be pretty smart about such things, judging by the large number of people who liked and trusted her.

“I—I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.” In truth, Kaydee knew that she probably wouldn’t decide what to do until the moment came. “But thank you. For letting me choose.”

Dash’s question, however, was something that Kaydee did know the answer to. “Do you have a blue ribbon? That way, it would match his uniform.”

After the ribbon had been selected, and Dash had been profusely thanked, Kaydee accepted Uluki’s suggestion that they go to bed. Carefully, Kaydee placed the medal in her new keepsake box. Then, lying down on the folded cloak that now served as her bed, she scooted the box close to her, so that even after Rollick had blown out the last candle, she could still trace the shapes carved into it. Usually, nightmares tormented Kaydee’s sleep. But that night she dreamed of flowers, angels, and the touch of gentle hands.

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki merely nodded in acknowledgement when Kaydee thanked her for allowing her a choice, but the words tugged at her heart a bit. Having a choice should be expected. It should be the default. It made her a little sad that Kaydee’s life had been so controlled by others that she felt she had to ask permission about how to speak to her own friends. Uluki hoped that with time, Kaydee would become more comfortable with decisions being left in her hands, rather than being made for her. It wasn’t that Uluki’s unexpected maternal feelings about Kaydee had gone away… quite the opposite; they had gotten stronger. Rather, it was that part of caring about someone, truly caring, was wanting what was best for them— and Uluki felt what was best for Kaydee was for her to start having some control over her own life.

Uluki smiled as the girls discussed ribbon colours, but felt no need to involve herself in the conversation. Instead she slipped out to check on Becky and her baby, and to bring them the gift she and Rollick had bought. Rollick joined her, needing to talk to at least one of the Lightswords, but also wanting to give the four girls a little privacy to get ready for bed. Uluki was still weak, shaky, and pale, so he offered her his arm. She accepted gratefully, leaning most of her weight against him, sparing her throbbing joints. When they got to the stairs, he carried her as he’d carried Kira. Words rose to her lips— a thank you, an apology for her weakness— but he just shook his head and kissed her.

He parted from her briefly at the door of the room where Becky was resting, not wishing to intrude on what he perceived as a female space. Uluki knocked and entered, cooing with delight at her little namesake. Nina-Uluki really was a beautiful little girl, with silky dark hair and sparkling brown eyes like her mother’s. Becky was visibly pleased with the gift of the blanket and the little dress, but Uluki mainly noticed something else, something that had changed between her and Becky and Jenny since the birth. The two women finally seemed fully relaxed in her presence, no longer walking on eggshells and weighing every word. Uluki was deeply glad of that, and very relieved. She’d been worried they’d never be fully comfortable with her, and was happy that she seemed to have been accepted as a true friend.

Merohl, passing by, had seen Uluki’s condition as she entered the room, and paused to speak to Rollick, concerned. “Is she alright?” he asked without preamble.

“She will be. She’s not feeling well at the moment, but she’ll get better.” Rollick tried to sound matter-of-fact, but couldn’t keep the loving worry out of his voice.

“She should not have asked us to stand by while that bastard insulted her,” Merohl commented bluntly… partly in residual anger at Panterras, but also partly to gauge Rollick’s reaction. Would he defend the actions of his former friend? The response would carry a fair bit of weight with how Merohl— and all the Lightswords— viewed Rollick in the future.

“Aye,” Rollick agreed, sounding rather weary. “The things he said to her… it was very difficult to control my temper, and I was willing to attempt to do so only for the sake of her wishes. If I’d heard what he said to her that upset her so badly— well, I must say I would not have been able to exercise that restraint.” If Rollick was aware he was being scrutinized, he gave no indication. The words he spoke were not to prove anything to Merohl, but because Rollick needed to get them off his chest. “He told her people pitied me for being married to her. Of all the vicious lies… and it’s preposterous! Uluki is the source of so much joy. She’s a light, no matter dark how things get. I count myself far beyond fortunate… and to imagine someone suggesting I deserve sympathy for my happiness!”

Merohl snorted with derision at what Panterras had said. “I assure you, Rollick, you are not pitied.”

“I would never have imagined he would say such things… let alone do the things he did. He’s a different man entirely than the one who was my friend. I do not know him anymore. I regret that he has been lost to the side of good… but he has, and he must be stopped from continuing on his dark path. A man with such cruelty in his heart cannot be allowed to live. The horrors he inflicted on his own daughter…” Rollick shuddered involuntarily, unable to finish verbalizing the thought.

“How is the girl? The one he did those things to?”

“Better. Uluki helped her.”

“Good.”

The conversation turned to more mundane matters: the watches for the night, and the plans for the next day. With these details arranged, Rollick took his leave and helped Uluki back up the stairs. Once they had returned to the room they said their goodnights, then Rollick blew out the candles.

While Kaydee had her sweet dreams and Martin drifted, apparently content in whatever sleep-images his baby mind conjured up, the others had a more difficult night. Uluki was prone to nightmares at the best of times, and the stresses and worries of the day intruded upon her rest almost immediately.


Uluki walked into the bedroom and found his body sprawled on the floor. She felt for a pulse, looked for and failed to find signs of breathing, but only because it was what you were supposed to do. She’d realized the moment she saw him that there was no life in him anymore. Uluki lay down on the floor beside him, wrapping her arms around his prone form and clinging to him.

She had known this would happen, known since she married him that it would end like this. Humans lived such a short time. Uluki didn’t look any different than she had on their wedding day, but as time passed, Rollick’s face had become more lined, and his grey hair had slowly turned snowy. She’d seen the strength leak out of him, but there was nothing she could do. She could fight injury and disease, but not time. The human body wasn’t made to last forever, no matter how well it was cared for.

Uluki rested her head against his chest as she had so many times… but this time, she didn’t hear the familiar, reassuring, steady sound of his heartbeat, and it hit her like a hammer that he was really gone. She screamed his name over and over till is stopped being a name at all, dissolving into wordless cries of pain. Her fingers twisted through his hair and around the fabric of his shirt, as if she could keep him with her if she just held tightly enough. She knew she couldn’t, though. He was already gone.

Their children were full-fledged adults now with families of their own, even Martin. They still loved their parents, but no longer relied on them to meet their needs. Uluki couldn’t help but think that was a relief. It meant she didn’t have to try to do this on her own. She didn’t have to try to live without him.

People had often asked about the differences in longevity between Fae and humans, and Uluki had always dodged the question because she didn’t think anyone would want to know the real answer. After finding her soul mate, after being loved, Uluki couldn’t live alone. Other people could be widows, could be sad for awhile but then go on to lead joyful and productive lives, but not her. When her human husband died of old age, she would die of grief. She’d always known that. What she hadn’t imagined, what she’d tried so hard not to imagine, was the mind-numbing, heart-shredding pain she would feel in the meantime.

Her wails turned to soft sobs, and then to even softer whispers. As she lay beside him, the dying with the dead, she whispered his name over and over, like a prayer…


Uluki awoke with her chest tight, gasping for breath. She reached out frantically in the darkness, pressing her hand against Rollick’s chest… and was filled with relief when she felt the steady rhythm of his breathing. He wasn’t dead. She hadn’t lost him. She moved her hand and pressed her face against him instead, treasuring the familiarity of him… the heartbeat, the breathing, the way he smelled, the way his arms felt around her…

Rollick stirred, though she didn’t think she’d woken him. His lips moved, and with her eyes now somewhat adjusted to the darkness, she could pick out the words. “I love you,” repeated over and over. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant dream, though. His face was tense, and his speech seemed desperate rather than amorous. Uluki’s hands moved over his shoulders and chest in gentle, reassuring strokes until his body relaxed. She was used to his nightmares. They’d gotten less frequent, but they still occasionally haunted his sleep. He was used to her nightmares too. Uluki whispered in his ear, “I love you too. I love you more than life. You’re safe, Rollick. You’re with me, and I’m safe too.” Uluki wasn’t sure if he was awake enough to be aware of her words, but realized he was when his arms encircled her more tightly and his cheek pressed against hers. She nuzzled him comfortingly, and after a moment they both drifted back into sleep.


Rollick was chained to a stone wall. He didn’t know how long he’d been there or how he’d gotten there, though the blood dripping from a wound along his hairline gave him some clue as to how he had been subdued. He struggled against his bonds, but with no success. His wrists were in metal cuffs attached to pins driven deep into the stone, and he was unable to make any progress against them. He forced the aching muscles in his neck to move, and he was finally able to look up and survey the room he was in.

There were no furnishings but a single table, on which a blue figure lay motionless. Uluki! Rollick tugged against the shackles again, fought till his wrists were scraped raw, but he couldn’t get any closer to her. Gods, she wasn’t moving! She was unconscious or… or dead. Even as Rollick thought the worst, she started to stir. He could see now that her wrists and ankles were tightly secured to the table, and that her body was covered with surgical drapes. There was some kind of tubing connected to her arm, leading to a glass jar that was filling with her blood. Suddenly Panterras was by her side, and Rollick shouted at him— demands that Uluki be freed, threats of what would happen if she were harmed— but Panterras ignored the fighter who had been rendered so ineffectual by his captivity.

Uluki shifted under the surgical drapes, looking around wildly for her clothes, but Panterras laughed coldly at her distress. “Relax. Your scrawny body doesn’t hold the same… fascination… for me that it does for Rollick. My purposes are purely scientific, I assure you. Not every mage has a chance to dissect a fairy, and believe me, I am grateful for the opportunity.”

There was a scalpel in Panterras’s hand— cold, sharp, and merciless. Uluki cried out softly as he pressed it into the exposed flesh above her sternum, opening a bloody gash downward toward her belly.

“No!” Rollick shouted, fighting against the metal bands that held him. Blood dripped from his chafed wrists, something he noticed only because the slipperiness made his attempts to break free even more difficult. He hurled insults and curses at Panterras, but the man didn’t even turn his head, didn’t look up from the trembling, sobbing blue form on the table. Unable to move, unable to help her, unable to stop this travesty, Rollick did the only thing left to him. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he spoke directly to Uluki, just in case it might distract her and thus take away even a tiny fraction of her pain. He said the only words he could think of, with his mind so frantic and fear-fevered. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…”


It had been a long time since Rollick had been so relieved to wake up.

Dash, too, was struggling with the terrors that infected sleep. Her dreams were like a maze through which she ran endlessly, trying to protect Kaydee from Snyde and Kira from Panterras… though both those men’s dream-faces looked exactly like the General. No matter how many times Dash saved her two friends, they always seemed just beyond her reach.

The tension of the day affected even Zee’s normally pleasant slumber. Though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a nightmare, she spent her dream-time wandering helplessly through the streets of Marn, recognizing nothing and no one... except baby Martin, who she held. They were lost again like she had been a few days ago, but this time with no idea at all where her Mama and Papa were. She searched for them, calling out their names, trying to drown out the words thrown at her by the people who surrounded her on every side, people who hated her. She didn’t know why they felt that way. She didn’t understand why they were saying these things to her. The words rang in her head over and over, “Once the fiend is dead…”

Kira’s nights were normally filled with… nothing. No dreams, good or bad, just blackness and respite from the terrors and pains of the day— a sort of mental defence against despair and the madness that would inevitably follow it. Just shutting down completely for a few hours helped her stay sane. Tonight, though, with no pain to process for the first time in a decade, her body seemed at loose ends, and it compensated by filling her mind with images of the past…


Kira was hiding under a pile of robes in a battered wardrobe. It was a horribly ineffective place to try to conceal herself, and she knew he would find her, but there was nowhere else. There was nothing else in the room she could use for cover. She lay in the darkness, shaking, praying that she would miraculously escape his notice.

She didn’t, of, course. He jerked the doors of the wardrobe open and flung the robes aside one by one, occasionally grabbing and tugging painfully on fistfuls of Kira’s hair in the process. Once he finally reached her he gripped her by the arm, and though he wasn’t a particularly strong man, she was weaker. He dragged her free of the wardrobe and dumped her on the floor.

“Pathetic, Kira. Your attempt to deceive me was truly pathetic, as is your cowardice. A normal girl would be thrilled to have the chance to take part in work like mine, but I was saddled with you. Life is far from fair.”

He produced a flask full of dull-green liquid from one of the pockets of his robe. As soon as she saw the bottle Kira started fighting madly, trying to push him away, but he easily pinned her flailing limbs. Holding her down with his full weight, he grasped her chin and forced the contents of the flask into her mouth. She gasped and choked, fighting not to swallow, but there was no place for the green liquid to go but down her throat.

There was an explosion of pain in Kira’s head, and her skin felt like it was on fire. The fire ate into her— her flesh, her muscles, her bones. She lay gasping, no longer able to fight. She had lost her battle, as she lost every battle, as she always would.

“You should be grateful, Kira, to have a father who is so willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.” He touched her cheek, feeling the temperature of her skin. She tried to bite him, but he easily pulled his hand out of reach of her teeth. “Gods, you’re a disappointment. But I love you in spite of your failings, my darling daughter…”


If Kira had been more used to being able to use her voice, she would have woken up screaming. As it was, making a sound would require concentration and was not a reflex action. She lay there in the darkness trying to catch her breath, sweat soaking her brow.

Kira saw Uluki lying with Rollick’s arms draped protectively around her. Uluki had healed her. Uluki had taken the pain away. Uluki had made a sacrifice for Kira, rather than demanding a sacrifice from her. And because Uluki was sleeping, Kira risked doing something she never would have when the fairy woman was awake. She crawled over to her and leaned against her, cuddling close to Uluki like a baby mouse. Kira had expected to be scared by the proximity, but it was surprisingly comforting, and that comfort started to make her drowsy. Her eyelids drooped.

Uluki awoke again briefly during the night, and was extremely startled— but very pleased— to find Kira snuggled against her. She smiled, and allowed herself to doze off again. When Uluki woke again in the morning, Kira had returned to her original sleeping spot.

In spite of her difficult night, Uluki rose feeling relatively rested. She still ached all over— it would take days for the pain to dissipate fully— and she knew she still looked like hell, but she felt… not bad. She smiled cheerfully, ready to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. Rollick also seemed to be doing alright, though she noticed he stayed quite close to her. Uluki took his hand in hers and held it, and that improved her mood from just “not bad” to very good.

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki had intended to tell Aorle about the situation with Panterras first thing in the morning, but when the family came downstairs to eat their breakfast they were told he had already left. It would have to wait. That concerned Uluki, but she felt a little better when Rollick told her that in his experience, Panterras wasn’t very trusting. He preferred to work with minimal staff, all known to him if possible, and he supervised fairly closely. Panterras had felt that sending more than one person to do a job was an unnecessary complication, and so the spy’s suggestion of assassins lurking in any shadow was unlikely. With the tension of the previous night now behind them, Uluki thought back to the little she knew of Panterras and had to agree. They would tell Aorle so he would be aware of what was going on, but there probably wouldn’t be another assassin unless it became clear that this one had failed.

The refugees seemed pleased to see Kira healthy, and several of them commented on how well she was looking. Many of them had seen her yesterday when she was walking with Dash, and the change was quite remarkable. She beamed in spite of herself when they congratulated her on her recovery.

It didn’t escape people’s notice, of course, that Uluki’s health had taken a corresponding decline. Uluki still looked pale and ill and wasn't able to move very well, and she received quite a number of expressions of concern— though no one commented outright on the connection to Kira’s improvement. It was obvious enough to go without saying. Uluki reassured them that she was fine, but every time she did so, Kira looked incredibly guilty. Uluki smiled reassuringly at the girl several times, and that seemed to help a little, but Kira clearly was not entirely relaxed. Uluki pulled her aside for a moment and whispered, “I knew what I was doing, Kira. I knew what would happen. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry, or feel bad.” Those words seemed to help a little more. Kira knew it already, Uluki had said it the night before, but clearly it was time for a reminder.

Uluki noticed a fair-haired young man she had never seen before, a man whose dress and bearing clearly marked him as another warrior, obviously newly arrived. She asked Rollick about him, and though her husband had little more information, he was able to confirm that the young man had come with Aorle the previous day, and that he was to join Aorle’s warband. Uluki was eager to introduce herself, not liking to have the people around her remain strangers. She and Rollick made their way over to speak to him when they saw he had a moment unoccupied by anyone else, sending the girls ahead with the baby to begin their breakfast rather than making them all wait.

The young man looked startled for a moment as the couple approached, and he eyed Uluki for a fraction of a second, taking in the blue skin and Fae features, then the obvious signs of illness in her pale face and dull eyes. The puzzled expression vanished, and was replaced by a politely pleasant one. “Greetings to you. I am Hatton Thronel, Squire of the Crown.”

The startled look had made Uluki nervous; she’d seen it too many times before. It meant people were trying to decide if she was a threat or not, and usually they decided that, just by virtue of being Fae, she was. Her grip on Rollick’s arm tightened, partly to emphasize her connection to humanity, and partly for the reassurance. Rollick couldn’t force people to like her, but he wouldn’t let them hurt her. When an instant later Hatton’s words and expression conveyed polite greeting rather than the hatred she expected, Uluki relaxed and smiled at him quite genuinely, though she let Rollick speak first.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Rollick, the castellan here.” He said this not to attempt to pull rank on the young man, but simply for informational purposes. “This is my wife, Uluki.”

Uluki had no idea what a Crown Squire was, and she would ask him sometime, but she didn’t want to reveal her ignorance while she was trying to make a first impression. “I’m pleased to meet you too, Hatton. I’m the…” Aorle had told her what her title was, but she’d forgotten. It wasn’t anything she’d heard before, and titles like that didn’t make sense to her. She thought hard, but couldn’t remember. “I’m the healer.” That was truly how she would always think of herself, no matter what other people called her. “I’m glad you’re here. This is a good place.”

Uluki sensed from the young man’s expression she’d done something incorrectly, but he said nothing about it, so she wasn’t enlightened as to what her mistake had been. Maybe she was just imagining it. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir, my lady,” was all he said.

Rollick had been called “sir” many times in the past and it didn’t phase him, but Uluki blushed at the “my lady.” She told Hatton that he should just call her by her name, and Rollick too agreed there was no need for formalities, but the young man did not seem fully convinced. He seemed nice, though, and Uluki thought she would like him.

Rollick continued to stick close to Uluki during breakfast. He sat very near her, and touched her more than was strictly necessary. When it was time to pursue their separate tasks, Uluki got a hug and quite a nice kiss. It was something that even after ten years, she still marveled at— that Rollick was willing to show his love for her when there were other people around. In front of his male friends, in front of other women… he was proud of her, not ashamed of her. That still made a difference. Supposedly he was the fighter and she was the healer, but Rollick had managed to heal quite a number of her wounds. One of those wounds had been left by her first fiancé, who had barely acknowledged her in public, and not at all when there was an attractive female in close proximity. It was different with Rollick. He loved her all the time, and was willing to show it. His affection met with affection in return… and a lot of smiles. Rollick made Uluki feel warm and bright inside.

Uluki planned that later in the day she would take a little of the treasury money and buy some supplies to get the refugees started on knitting and sewing projects, which would clothe the people at the compound for now, and before long should start bring in some income. She wanted to wait until Rollick was free to accompany her, though; she didn’t want to be on her own if there was a confrontation with Panterras or anyone else, and even with those concerns aside she suspected the shopkeepers would prefer to do business with a human.

For now, there was plenty of work to do. The garden was almost ready to be planted… assuming they found some seeds or plants… but it was still full of rocks. They weren’t large rocks, more like pebbles ranging from the diameter of a coin to the size of Uluki’s fist, but they would make it difficult for young seedlings to take root. Removing the rocks would be simple task, but a necessary one. She asked Dash, Kaydee, and Kira to start on it, and even little Bethany was able to help with the project. They probably wouldn’t have any difficulty getting the garden ready by the end of the day. Meanwhile the more able-bodied refugees, joined by Rosemary, who cheerfully volunteered her efforts, as well as the ever-enthusiastic Zee, began working on the fortifications again, while those who were still tired and sore from the day before had a knitting lesson with Uluki. It wasn’t a very efficient lesson as the yarn was running low and the needles had to be passed back and forth, but Uluki felt some progress was made.

While Uluki was busy with those projects, Rollick gathered the warriors for another training session— one which now that they were more used to working together and he and Aorle had taken stock of their abilities, he didn’t feel the need to supervise so closely. These were highly skilled and well-trained warriors, not fresh army recruits. They had already proven their ability to function as a group, and that they would not let petty rivalries or jealousies interfere with their purpose. They were better than that, and they had demonstrated it amply. Rollick assigned them either to sparring pairs or to individual practices, whichever was more suited to their combat style, and promised to check back periodically to see how they were doing. If they decided they had done enough or wished to see to other tasks, the warriors were of course free to depart when they felt it was appropriate.

Rollick himself was eager to take up a shovel and help with the fortifications. The refugees had worked enthusiastically and well, which Rollick was grateful for, but they simply hadn’t had the physical ability to work very quickly. The unfinished fortifications weighed on Rollick’s mind. He wanted to get them done as soon as possible, and the most obvious solution was to contribute his own efforts rather than waiting for others to produce the desired results.

It wasn’t that Rollick didn’t feel the need to practice combat as the others did. True, he was significantly older, and that time had of course granted him more experience. A great deal of his skill was permanently embedded in his muscle memory after years of training and effort. Rollick had studied fighting techniques since he was little more than a boy, and much had become ingrained. On the other hand, the other warriors had a distinct advantage over him in that their younger bodies were easier to keep in good physical shape— something that, for one of Rollick’s age, took a fair bit of work. Rollick knew that his body would not remain combat-ready if he neglected the effort to keep himself sharp. No, it was that while the fortifications remained unfinished and the compound was not as safe as it could be, anything else— even something as useful as a training session— seemed like a distraction from a gaping hole in their preparations.

It was, he reflected, different for him than it was for the other warriors… well, except for Julen. Julen would probably understand. As long as the fortifications remained unfinished, all the people inside were more vulnerable than they needed to be. Rollick knew that the other warriors respected and cared about Uluki, and that they would do anything necessary to protect the girls and the baby, as well as all the other civilians. Their devotion wasn’t at issue… but it was a different type of devotion than Rollick’s. It was a different type of responsibility.

Rollick’s family was the most important thing in his life. Not the only thing, of course, but they were much in his thoughts, and their welfare was his greatest source of worry… even as they were his greatest joy. It was only to be expected that he would do everything in his power to keep them safe. The fortifications didn’t take priority over everything, of course— but no one was in danger of death or harm if Rollick spent the day digging rather than in combat training. It wouldn’t make him stop worrying about his family’s safety entirely, but he would rather do something than just worry.

What the other warriors would think of him for it, he didn’t know. They might think less of him if they thought he was wasting his time with this labour. It didn’t matter much. He would rather bear their scorn than fail his family for the sake of his own pride.

Rollick was already unsure how the Lightswords felt about him. He tried to see himself as they saw him, an older man who was on the periphery of their group but not really a part of it. Rollick knew they were deeply protective of Uluki, and wasn’t sure whether they considered him a good enough husband for her. He tried to be, and he knew she was happy, but it was hard for him to imagine what his own marriage looked like from the outside. Then there was the matter of the evil god, which Aorle might or might not have told them about. If they knew, had they all been as understanding as Aorle and Julen, or did some of them hold it against him? Rollick hoped the Lightswords liked him… but he wasn’t sure, and didn’t presume they did. Maybe they hadn’t even made up their minds.

It was easier… and more comfortable… to think about Uluki, and the girls, and the baby. He knew where he stood with them. He knew how much they loved him, and how much he loved them in return. Every shovelful of dirt was a token of that love, and of his desire to keep them safe, along with all their other friends at the base. That was what really mattered to him.

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki’s work was interrupted by Sean, who apologized for the disturbance but explained that two more refugees had arrived from the shanty town. Uluki reassured him that he had done the right thing in coming to get her, and left the others— mostly women, but Dai was among them too— to practice the knitting she’d been teaching them. She met the two newcomers at the compound entrance. They were a man and woman, a married couple called Vernon and Petra.

Vernon was an affable man, tall and strong and a little stout, but fairly good-looking none the less. His blond hair was cropped short, and Uluki noticed he had unusually perfect teeth for one who was so clearly escaping grinding poverty.

Petra had long, glossy black hair and ice-blue eyes, and though her expression was wary, she had the sort of features Uluki had only ever seen on statues that were meant to represent the ideals of womanhood. The only thing marring her beauty was a raised, twisted red scar that ran down the side of her face and tugged the corner of her right lip up at an angle that would have seemed like a sneer if it didn’t look quite so painful.

As Vernon stared around the compound, something clearly attracted his attention. His eyes grew wide, and his face was frightened. Uluki assumed he’d spotted one of the warriors, maybe even Krarug, and she was prepared to diffuse the situation with reassurances of safety, but when she followed the line of his eyes she saw nothing that should cause concern. Dash, Kira, and Kaydee were industriously picking rocks out of the garden, with Bethany alternating between helping and playing with her doll. The girls seemed to be having a good time, laughing and chatting as they worked. Uluki saw absolutely nothing amiss. She supposed he might have been surprised by Dash’s wings, but unlike her sister, Dash generally inspired curiosity rather than outright fear. Uluki was about to reassure him that Dash was quite harmless, when Vernon voiced his concerns.

“There’s a ghost!” he exclaimed abruptly.

Uluki, who believed in ghosts, strained her eyes to see. Dash, Kira, Kaydee, Bethany, garden, rocks… no ghosts. All seemed to be in order. “I don’t see anything.”

“There, in the white dress.” He pointed.

“That’s not a ghost. That’s Kaydee,” Uluki told him, wondering how he could make such an assumption.

His expression turned a little guilty. “I know that’s Kaydee. She’s dead. She didn’t look like that when she was alive. She looked sick, and her dress was all torn. Now she’s a ghost. She’s back to haunt me.”

“She’s feeling better now, and she has a new dress. Nothing supernatural. She isn’t a ghost. And… why would she haunt you?”

“I saw her corpse.” The guilty expression turned to outright shame, and Uluki saw that this was the answer to her question. “I saw Snyde throw her body in the street, her and that warrior.”

Anger rose in Uluki, and she tried to force it down. The gods knew how long Julen and Kaydee had been lying there before she and the warriors found them. If this man had only stopped to help, had gotten them aid, they could have been spared a lot of pain. “And you didn’t check to make sure they were dead? You didn’t even try to help?”

“They looked dead to me. I ain’t no doctor. Doctors don’t come to the shanty town. What was I supposed to do? Like I said, they were most likely dead, and even if they weren’t, how was I supposed to help?”

“Brought them inside? Given them water? Cleaned their wounds? Julen obviously wasn’t from the shanty town. You could have come to his friends, and we would have been glad to help you.”

“Right, so I bring them inside. Then what? Mr. Snyde would have found out. He would have killed Kaydee and your warrior friend once and for all, then me and my wife. Don’t help them none for all of us to die, does it?”

Somehow even through her anger, Uluki felt understanding too. She still thought Vernon had made the wrong choice, and she hated that Julen and Kaydee had been made to suffer more because of it. Everyone had a choice… but some people’s choices were harder than others. Vernon had been cowardly, in Uluki’s opinion, but had not put himself beyond the possibility of a second chance. He bore responsibility, but Snyde… and even the shanty town itself… bore a far greater one.

“Kaydee and Julen both lived. No ghosts. If you feel bad about what happened, you can tell them you’re sorry.” Then she let the matter go, though the flame of anger had not entirely died down yet. “Did you work for Snyde?” Uluki asked conversationally, changing the subject.

“No,” Petra said. “Not really worked for him. But we paid him a few bishani a week and his men left us alone, you know? Vernon does odd jobs around for people, and I…” Her guarded eyes became almost nostalgic. “I had a job in one of them nice houses, once. Not fancy work, but they said I could do the heavy scrubbing, the sort of stuff them quality maids don’t like. The pay was more than I ever had in all my life. It would have gotten us out of the shanty town for good, even just doing the scrubbing for people like that. I don’t know how Mr. Snyde found out. He finds out everything. He didn’t like it much, us getting out, because it meant we wouldn’t be paying him that protection money no more.” Her cheeks turned red. “I mean… anymore.” Uluki shook her head, indicating the grammatical slip was completely unimportant, and the woman continued her story. “He sent one of his thugs to teach me a lesson about my place. Smacked me around, nothing I couldn’t handle, but then… then he cut my face. To make sure I didn’t forget, he said. I wasn’t going to let him get me down. I went back to that fancy house the next day ready to work as hard as I ever worked in my life, but…” He voice dropped, and Vernon patted her arm. “They said not to come back no more.” This time she didn’t correct herself. “They said they didn’t want a girl who gets in fights, because I’d cause trouble. That wasn’t the real reason, though. They didn’t like how my face looks. I wasn’t pretty enough to work in their perfect house. I guess Mr. Snyde won after all. Since then I been in the shanty town, looking for more work, but haven’t had much luck. So we heard about this place, and…”

Uluki nodded. “I’m glad you decided to come. If you want, I have medicine that would help your cut…”

Petra’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m not pretty enough for this place either? You got to fix me so people can stand to look at me?”

“No!” Uluki said hastily, horrified. “I didn’t mean that at all. It just looks like it hurts.”

“I can handle my own hurts,” Petra told her, and from her tone Uluki had no doubt it was true. “I got a scar. Can’t pretend like it never happened. We stay here, it’s with the scar. If that’s not good enough, we’ll leave. What’ll it be?”

That was an easy question for Uluki. “Stay. Everyone here has scars.”

Petra said nothing, but smiled.

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki offered Petra and Vernon food and a place to rest if they needed it, but their health was far better than that of any of the other refugees who had arrived so far, and they preferred to begin helping with the fortifications right away. They would eat and have a break when the others did— which would be fairly soon. Once they were settled in and Rollick had told them where to direct their efforts, Uluki returned to her knitting group, who had made admirable progress in her absence in spite of the shortage of materials; Uluki hoped to remedy that shortage before the day was out, and she looked forward to seeing what they could accomplish with more supplies.

Uluki hadn’t been with the knitting group for very long when Sean came back. “Sorry to bother you, Missus, but there’s more people here. They ain’t in very good shape. But they won’t come in, Missus. They just want to talk to someone, so I come to get you. Begging your pardon for interrupting again.”

“It’s no bother, Sean. Thank you for coming to let me know.” Uluki had told Sean less than an hour ago that she wanted to be informed if more refugees arrived, and she recognized that he was doing something that seemed to be common among the refugees— apologizing on principle even though they knew they hadn’t done anything wrong, as though to demonstrate how cooperative and inoffensive they were. If you told them not to apologize, they would apologize for apologizing. No, Uluki thought, all you could do was reassure them as best you could, and be patient in giving them time to become comfortable with you.

The new arrivals were waiting beyond the fortifications. Sean tagged along unobtrusively… not out of reluctance to return to digging, but because he clearly felt that outside the safety of the compound, even only a few feet outside, Uluki would need someone to watch her back. Uluki didn’t think any great danger was likely, and regardless, disaster was probably not going to be averted by the presence of a ten year old boy, but his thoughtfulness and concern impressed her, and she gave him a grateful smile.

Uluki knew the moment she saw them that she wouldn’t be in any danger from these refugees… of whom there were two, a woman and the small child she carried. The woman was young and pretty, with an abundance of golden curls, but both of her eyes were blackened, and there was a swollen purplish bruise that extended from her cheekbone down to her jaw. The child in her arms had freckles and auburn hair cut short, though it was clear from her face and dress she was a girl, about the same age as Bethany. The girl was unnaturally still, and her eyes seemed glassy and unfocused. Uluki was concerned about that, but pasted a smile on her face and prepared to welcome them to the base.

The woman started speaking before Uluki had a chance to get the words out. “I want you to take my child, please, Missus!”

Uluki blinked several times. “What?”

“I want her to stay here, Missus. Someone here could take care of her. Maybe you could,” she suggested. “She’s a good girl, doesn’t eat very much, most of the time you wouldn’t even know she was there. I call her Joy, but you could call her something different if you don’t like it, and she’ll start to answer to it in no time. You’ll like her, I promise. A few days and you’ll feel just like she was yours.” As she went through what seemed like a prepared sales pitch, the woman’s eyes grew sadder and sadder.

“And you heard fairies steal children?” Uluki asked ruefully.

“What?” Now the woman seemed as confused as Uluki had been a moment earlier.

“Nothing, never mind. Why don’t you bring her inside, and we’ll find her some medicine. Then we can talk about the rest of it once she’s feeling a little better.”

The woman agreed to this somewhat cautiously. Once they were back inside the compound Sean returned to digging, and Uluki and the woman— whose named turned out to be Callie— went inside the main building. The “medicine” Uluki gave the child was of course just water, a trick that had worked so successfully with Martha, but magic quickly healed the child’s weak and disease-ravaged body. Though Uluki was still in pain from healing Kira, it was from the taint she had taken on, not from energy drain, and it didn’t interfere at all with her efforts to help Joy. Uluki held the child while she healed her, but when she was finished she passed the little girl back to her mother. Callie instinctively cradled the girl, relieved to see colour returned to her cheeks and life in her eyes again, but then she remembered why she had come here, and the sad expression returned.

Uluki met Callie’s gaze and Callie looked away, but Uluki caught her eye again. “If you’d had a safe place to sleep, and food to eat, and you’d been able to get medicine for her, would you have been here trying to give your child away? Truthfully. Please.”

Callie shook her head miserably. “No,” she said softly. “I just don’t have any of those things. I don’t have what she needs. I just wanted to do what was best for her.”

“I know. I know you care about her. You wouldn’t have brought her here if you didn’t. We can give her food and shelter and make her feel better, but those aren’t the only things she needs. She needs you, too. She needs her mother. She would miss you terribly if you weren’t there anymore. Joy can stay here… of course she can… but it would be better if you stayed too. The two of you don’t have to be separated.”

“I can’t stay here,” Callie said miserably.

“If there are other people in the shanty town you’re worried about, they can come too. Other children? Friends? Relatives?” Uluki hoped that the woman didn’t intend to return to whoever gave her those bruises.

“No, nothing like that. I’m not the kind of person you want here. When those warriors come back, they’ll make me leave anyway, and it’s better… that they don’t know where Joy came from. You could tell them someone just left her by the gate?” she suggested hopefully. “You could say you didn’t know who her parents were?”

Uluki really didn’t know who Joy’s parents were, other than that her mother was named Callie, but she felt that once again there was more going on than the woman was telling her. “Why would I need to do that? Are you worried about someone finding her?”

“No.” There was a long pause, then as if it was an explanation for her concerns about the welcome she could expect, “My… my husband is dead.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Uluki said gently, and she was sorry for the woman, but she also had no idea what the woman’s widowhood had to do with anything. It certainly didn’t seem like a reason people wouldn’t want her around.

“No, it’s not… Don’t be. Sorry, I mean. He’s the one who gave me these lovely presents.” Callie gestured toward her bruised face.

“Callie, a man doesn’t have a right to treat a woman that way. If you did something to him— if you’re the reason he’s dead— you were just defending yourself and your child. It isn’t murder to protect your own life from someone who hurts you.”

“No.” Callie took a deep breath. She had finally realized that Uluki was determined to get to the bottom of the matter, and wouldn’t just let her leave without explanations. She might as well be forthright, rather than leaving Uluki guessing incorrectly at the truth. “I didn’t kill him. One of your warriors did. My husband worked for Mr. Snyde. He didn’t always,” she added hastily. “He didn’t when I married him. But then he took to drink, and he had trouble holding down a job. He was a mean drunk… then he just got mean. I didn’t want him to work for Mr. Snyde. I told him all those men were thugs, that they were up to no good, but he said he wasn’t doing that. He said he was just protecting Mr. Snyde, guarding his money, that sort of thing. Maybe that was really true, at first. He started carrying around a club, said it was for protection, but lots of nights he came home with blood on him, and I doubt Mr. Snyde needed that much protection.”

Callie laughed without much humour, more just as punctuation. “My husband started getting nastier at home, too. I never let him hurt Joy, but he started hitting me a lot, and there was never enough to eat. My husband didn’t let me have any money, he’d take whatever I brought home, so we’d only get to eat when he was feeling pleased with us. I was going to run away, take my daughter and never look back, but then I made a mistake.”

She elaborated, “I heard the rumour going around the shanty town that Mr. Snyde and his men had grabbed that girl Kaydee and done bad things to her, then laid an ambush for that nice man who brought bread to people. I asked my husband about it. I asked him if he’d been involved, and he got angry. He used to get mad at me a lot, but I never saw him go so crazy as when I asked that. That’s when he messed up my face. He said I was a bad wife for casting doubt on his honour. That I ought to trust him more than that. I ought to know better. I kept saying I was sorry, but it was a long time before he stopped hitting me. Then he just left me lying on the floor, and calm as you please he changed his clothes and left the house. I was crying, I felt like a horrible person for even thinking those things about my man, and just sort of out of habit I started tidying up. I picked up his clothes to wash them, and I saw something caught in his sleeve cuff. I thought it was a handkerchief, but when I pulled it out I saw it was part of another sleeve. The sleeve of a white dress. He’d been there after all, where Mr. Snyde had Kaydee, much as he denied it. In spite of everything, that was the first time I realized what my husband was truly capable of. I knew we had to get out, and fast, but I had to figure out where to go, and he was watching me closer than ever after the night I asked him about Kaydee and that warrior. I had something I was trying to set up, but it was slow getting worked out.”

“In the meantime, we had run out of food again. I was scared to ask my husband for money, but I had to, for Joy. I had to get something to feed her. I went to where my husband was working. I knew it was dangerous, but I couldn’t risk him drinking away his wages on the way home. I went in there, and there were a bunch of dead bodies. My husband was one of them. I have to say… I know I promised to love and honour and cherish, but when I saw that body, all I felt was like a burden had been lifted.”

She seemed guilty about this, but Uluki didn’t blame her in the slightest for her lack of grief. It wasn’t as if her husband had loved, honoured, and cherished her, and he had no claim on her tears. Rather than voicing this thought, Uluki merely nodded her understanding.

Callie continued, “I asked around, and people said the warriors had done it, the ones who came to pay Mr. Snyde back for what he did. At first, I was out of my mind with relief, because we wouldn’t have to escape, we could go wherever we wanted. But then I realized… we didn’t have any money. We had a place to stay for a few more days, till rent was due, but then we had nowhere. No food. My little girl was sick, and there was no money for a doctor. It seems strange, us coming here. My husband was your enemy. But I just didn’t know of anywhere else. I thought maybe you could take care of Joy, and not tell the warriors whose daughter she was, because if they find out, they’ll…”

“No. It isn’t going to be like that. They won’t hurt Joy because of who her father was. I promise you that.” Uluki had no doubt about this. “They won’t hurt you either. You aren’t the one who did anything wrong. If you stay here, you’ll both be safe.”

“Are you sure?” Callie still looked doubtful.

“Completely. Your face looks like it hurts. The medicine can help that too.” Uluki dipped her fingers in the bowl of water and rubbed it across the bruises so lightly she barely brushed the skin. Callie closed her eyes, allowing Uluki to do as she saw fit, and Uluki started healing her. The damage was worse than it looked… several fractures and some internal bleeding, as well as numerous bruises hidden by her clothes. There were also more half-healed old injuries than Uluki could count. If Callie wondered why “medicine” on her face made her whole body feel better, she didn’t seem inclined to question it. Instead she relaxed imperceptibly— she couldn’t remember the last time she had relaxed at all— and let the healer work.

“I know you must think I’m an idiot for marrying a man like that.” Callie had never said her husband’s name, Uluki noticed. She suspected it was the woman’s way of beginning to banish him. “And I was. I was stupid. He was handsome and charming, back before he started drinking, but he was never that great to me. But there was something about him… I don’t know why. How do you fall for a man like that? Or maybe I’m just dumb. You probably wouldn’t have made such a bad choice.”

“I… I think I might have. I haven’t always had the best taste in men. I’m not talking about my husband, Rollick— he’s the grey haired man who was working on the ditch— he’s very kind to me, and he’s a wonderful father. He was the right choice. But before him… before him I picked someone who wasn’t so good. He never hit me, but he wasn’t nice to me, either. He didn’t respect me. He said bad things about me, made me feel like I wasn’t worth very much. I should have left him… but I didn’t. And it’s hard to remember why. You don’t need to feel dumb. Not at all. I might have done the same thing, and I made a bad enough choice with the first man I loved too. But I got a second chance. Now you have one too.”

“It’s really going to be alright?” Callie asked, sounding both world-weary and childlike at the same time.

“Really alright,” Uluki agreed.

[Lylessa Uluki]

A moment later, Jenny knocked politely and entered the room. Her eyes and Callie’s went wide as they stared at each other. There was silence for an uncomfortable moment, then…

“I’m sorry,” said Callie.

At the same instant, Jenny spoke too. “Thank the gods you got out!”

They regarded each other again, as though each woman’s opinion of the other was being reshuffled. It was Jenny who broke the silence. “Don’t nobody blame you, girl. We all knew you had it bad at home. I think you was in the shanty town market with bruises on your face more often than I was. We was all worried about you, you and your kid. She feeling better?” Jenny asked, looking over at Joy.

“Yes. Uluki gave her something. Whatever it was, it helped me too.”

“Just so as you know, we don’t say nothing about when Uluki makes people better, not to people from outside. It’s fine to tell the people here, but if them Guards come knocking, you just say you don’t know nothing, huh? Maybe she give you some herbs or something, made you feel a little better, but you don’t say nothing about how you got well all of a sudden. They don’t need to know about that, right?”

Callie quickly agreed, and Uluki smiled at Jenny. It was clear that the refugees had indeed established a code of silence on the matter, as she’d been told yesterday, and that Jenny had taken responsibility for making sure everyone was aware of and followed it. Uluki was quite grateful for both the discretion and the support.


The compound certainly wasn’t lacking for sleeping space. Uluki wasn’t sure what all the rooms were for, but there were lots of little nooks and crannies that could be turned into accommodations. That was good; besides the additional privacy it afforded, meaning more pleasant living areas, the smaller rooms would be easier to keep warm and comfortable than drafty open spaces would be. The only problem was the dust and disuse, but that could be solved easily enough. Once the yarn ran out the knitting was effectively finished for the day, and Uluki found some old buckets and jars and filled them with water. She cut up her old dress—stained, bloodied, and torn almost to ribbons during her sojourn in on the steppe, it was good for little else— and saved the pieces of material that were still relatively unscathed to make baby clothes for Martin and Nina-Uluki. The rest could be used for rags, and she passed one out to each of those who had been knitting. The group would now turn their hands to making more of the rooms available so the new arrivals would have places to sleep.

Uluki tied her hair back with a scarf and rolled her sleeves up to the elbow. If the refugees noticed the raised scars on her left arm, they said nothing. She set to it with the others, dipping her cloth in the water and then scrubbing the floors and walls, humming an old Duskling song as she worked. She made sure she kept Martin in view, but allowed him to crawl around as she scrubbed.

Down a corridor that Uluki had not previously explored, she found two rooms that adjoined each other, and each also had access to the hallway. One was about the same size as her family’s room, and the other was somewhat smaller. Uluki pondered that for a moment. She had to admit that their own room was getting extremely crowded. She didn’t want any of the people she shared with to go away, but seven people was a lot for a small space, even if one of the people was only a baby. If they moved to these two adjoining rooms instead, the four girls could take the bigger one and she and Rollick and the baby could sleep in the other. They would all still be close together, and they could leave the door between the rooms open whenever they wanted to, but it would give them more space. It would be more comfortable and less cramped. Aorle hadn’t said anything about a second room when he told them where they would stay, and she didn’t want to presume… but they had acquired two more people since then, and there was plenty of space in the buildings anyway. What finally sold Uluki on the idea was the fact that both rooms had doors to the corridor. If someone needed her or Rollick during the night, it would be easy to come and get them without disturbing the girls too.

Uluki made sure all the refugees had rooms allocated to them if they didn’t already. Dai, Martha, Ian, and Sean already slept in one of the larger rooms. Louise and Masha were sharing a smaller one, and Vernon and Petra would be given one of the same size as the two women’s. Jenny, Becky, and Callie would now each have a little room alone with her child. Even with other rooms occupied by the warriors, there was more than enough space to house additional refugees, which Uluki found reassuring.

Rollick, meanwhile, was still digging, and while he dug he considered the civilian militia he was to train to defend the compound. He would pick ten refugees out of the eventual group, and while more were arriving all the time and it would be premature to choose specific individuals yet, it would do well for him to begin thinking about criteria for making the choice.

He didn’t want to include anyone who was very young. Though they would need to be as good shape physically as possible, he also wanted to be sure they had the wisdom and maturity to appreciate the task before them. He also didn’t want it said by anyone that those at the compound had children fighting and maybe even dying for them. No, while he approved of Aorle’s training of Ian and Sean for eventual military service, those who served in potential outright combat in the militia should be full-fledged adults.

Of course, that wasn’t relevant at the moment. Kira and Kaydee were both clearly unsuited for other reasons; much as he liked both of them, he didn’t see combat careers in their future, which was fine with him. Dash and Zee… they wouldn’t do either. Dash was too fragile both physically and emotionally. If he was honest with himself, making Zee too lethal meant she would need to be supervised for the rest of her life, given her limited decision-making capacity and simplistic moral reasoning, and he and Uluki hoped she would one day be able to live independently. Most importantly, when they had adopted the girls, they had promised they would never be made to fight again, that they could lead the peaceful lives they had escaped to seek. Even though the girls would not, under any circumstances, be made to do so, if asked they would feel pressured to accept, and that would mean Uluki and Rollick were breaking their word. Dash and Zee were, in spite of their innate abilities, people first and foremost. All four of the girls should have as much opportunity as possible to hold onto what little innocence they had left, and that innocence would be stomped out quickly on the battlefield, even if they fought only to defend their home. Including any of them was out of the question, neither necessary nor to be desired.

He was also reluctant to include anyone who was raising a child alone. Those who fought in the militia— or on the front lines of any battle— faced the very real possibility of death. Rollick would do everything he could to prevent that, and would see they were adequately trained so they could hold their own, but there were never any guarantees. Those who had the sole care of a child had a responsibility that superseded guarding the compound. If one of the children at the base should be orphaned, that child would be looked after, cared for, and loved. There were many people who would see to that, including Uluki and himself. But though that was true, there was no reason to court tragedy. Helping orphans was all well and good, but making orphans of those in their charge was to be avoided.

Aside from those factors, he would simply choose those who seemed most temperamentally suited to the task. Having decided this, Rollick felt more prepared to make more specific choices when the time came.

After working hard all morning, the various groups of civilians and the warriors took a break to eat and relax before returning to their labours in the afternoon. Rollick encouraged the warriors to mingle with the others, to get to know them and to show the refugees that in spite of being armed men, they should not be objects of fear— but it was only a suggestion, not an order, and the warriors were free to do as they saw fit.

Uluki rejoined her family for the meal. Dash complimented Kira’s progress with speech while Kira beamed, Kaydee told them a funny story about the overly curious crow who had attempted to interfere with the progress on the garden, and Zee enthused about how the digging was going and showed off how muddy she was. Rollick was more cheerful than he had been at breakfast, and he smiled and joked with them. They discussed the rooms Uluki had found, and all seemed positive about the potential change of scenery.

Even as they made pleasant small talk, Uluki kept glancing over at Rollick. She was so very lucky. Seeing what Callie had been through, what some men did— yes, Uluki was lucky. Rollick never hit them… not her, not the children. When he touched them, his hands were gentle and affectionate. His hands never caused them pain. Rollick was a firm believer that violence should never enter the home. He respected his family. He loved them too much to hurt them.

Uluki leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her. “Everything alright, dear one?” he asked, just to be sure.

She nodded and snuggled against him. He didn’t mind that she was clingy. He didn’t care if the others saw, even his warrior friends. He held her close, rather than pushing her away. She was lucky. “I’m happy,” she said.

Rollick squeezed her shoulder gently. “I am too.”

[Lylessa Uluki]

They were just finishing their meal when Zee asked a question that startled her parents. “Why is magic against the law?”

“Because they think people will do bad things with it, I suppose. Magic can be dangerous,” Uluki suggested gently.

“But why is it against the law to heal people? That isn’t dangerous.”

Uluki tried to remember what they’d been told when they first arrived. “They think magic corrupts people. Even healing. I hope that isn’t true.” She shot Kira and Kaydee an apologetic look just in case. “Some people are allowed to use magic anyway. People like Aorle. People who are…”

“Human?” Dash suggested, with just a trace of bitterness in her voice.

“Well… yes.” Uluki tried to think of a nicer way to explain it, but that was the general consensus. “They think Fae like me are bad by nature. People who have magic are supposed to report it to them, but if you’re Fae and you admit you do magic…”

“They torture you and lock you up and kill you, no matter how nice you are. There’s no possibility of fairness.” Dash’s voice sounded like steel. “You’re damned no matter what you do. Your only chance is to keep them from finding you.”

Uluki shot Dash a warning look. What Dash was saying was, as far as they knew, correct, but it was likely to upset Zee.

“Are they evil?” Zee asked, sounding bewildered.

Uluki and Rollick exchanged a look, and she replied, “No. Not evil. Just afraid.”

“If they aren’t evil, why would they torture you for helping people?” Zee sounded on the verge of tears. “Why would anyone want to kill Mama?”

“I don’t know,” Uluki admitted. “They’re scared something bad will happen, I guess.”

Zee’s eyes filled. “Are you going to kill you, Mama? Are they going to hurt you?”

“No,” Rollick said with certainty. “We aren’t going to let them find her.” Then, realizing the girls might be confused by the apparently anti-authoritarian attitude, “A person should follow the laws when they are just and fair, and leave room for mercy. When mercy and compassion are outlawed, we follow the laws of goodness and conscience. We do not allow ourselves to be governed by fear and distrust of those who are different. We owe no loyalty to authorities who do arbitrary harm. We owe no allegiance to a government that treats its people with inequity. I would defy anyone who would harm a healer for trying to help the innocent. I would give my life to stop anyone who would hurt my wife. I believe in following just laws. But no just law would torture and kill Uluki for her compassion. Your mother will continue to help people as she can, and we will do all we can to protect her.” He stopped, embarrassed by his long speech.

Uluki just smiled at him.

The talk turned to more pleasant subjects, and after awhile Rollick caught Kira’s eye. “May I… speak to you for a moment?” he asked, and his awkward and uncomfortable tone hinted to Uluki what the subject of the conversation might be. She didn’t envy her husband the task of such a discussion, but it needed to be done, and he was the most suited to it.

Rollick drew Kira aside, not far from the others, but putting enough distance between them that they could speak freely without being overheard. He deliberately stayed within visual range of Uluki so that if the conversation went badly he could signal to her to come rescue him. She was better at this sort of thing, he thought, but this time it was really his responsibility.

He wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “Kira… the things your father did to you were monstrous. He must not be allowed to hurt you— or anyone— ever again. We must do everything possible to stop him, and to prevent future crimes. I… regret that such a brilliant man, a man who could do so much good, has chosen the path of evil instead. Your father has gone down a road from which I am afraid no return is possible. I see no remorse in him, no desire for repentance. I see only the intention and desire to do further evil. I am left with no alternative but to… end it once and for all.”

Kira nodded; she had expected this. Her complete lack of reaction told him she hadn’t fully taken his meaning. He decided to be blunt and stop skirting the difficult issue.

“He has to die, Kira. Until he does, everyone near him is in danger. His crimes have sealed his fate, and though I regret the necessity, I will do what must be done. I wanted to tell you beforehand so you had time to prepare yourself.”

For a long moment, Kira just stared at him. He still wasn’t sure she had understood, but he wanted to give her time to process the information before attempting to clarify further.

Though none of it showed on her face, Kira’s heart was deeply conflicted. Her father was a horrible parent by any possible standard, and she’d known that for years, but he was the only parent she’d had for most of her life. The only person she’d had in her life at all, in fact. Surely that counted for something?

The rational, more mature part of Kira’s brain knew Panterras was evil. It was that part that had been behind her ineffectual attempts to fight him off, had made her try to protect herself, and had finally enabled her to get away. But another part of her mind, more visceral, more childlike, had made her try to force herself to believe him when he said she was good for nothing else, that she had been born with no purpose other than to be abused by him. She had tried to convince herself that her father had no choice. Because somehow, believing she deserved it was easier than believing that her own father had chosen to torture her. Every day. For years.

Kira looked over at Uluki. The Fae woman had her arm around Zee, who was leaning against her, and was talking to Dash and Kaydee. Kira couldn’t hear the words, but all four of them looked happy. Kira looked back at Rollick, who was holding baby Martin. The child was cradled against his father’s chest, his tiny fingers clutching the fabric of Rollick’s shirt; the alert baby examined the world with wide eyes, safe in the protection of loving arms. Kira envied that. She envied the safety the little child had with his father. Her own father had worked so hard to keep from getting attached to her, to keep clinical distance… but it had worked the other way, too. It had prevented her from forming the deep bonds of loyalty she might have otherwise, in spite of the abuse.

Kira finally asked, “Can I still stay with you and Uluki?” Her voice sounded rusty, like a disused hinge, but the words were clear.

“Of course,” Rollick assured her. “You have a place with us as long as you want it.”

“Thank you. And I understand. About my father.”

Rollick wrapped his free arm— the arm not occupied with the baby— around Kira’s thin shoulders. “I wish… I wish I’d made your father let you come live with me after your mother died. I wish I had ignored him and taken you in spite of what he said. If I had known how things would turn out, what he would do to you, I would have done anything necessary to keep you away from him. I wish just that once I’d been able to see the future. Things would have been different.”

Rollick sighed. Kira would have grown up knowing love, not suffering. Uluki would still have married him… Kira wouldn’t have changed anything there, he was sure… and they would have been happy. Kira would have been safe. She would have grown up confident and secure. She wouldn’t have that haunted look in her eyes, or shadows in her mind. She wouldn’t fear being touched. Her memories of childhood would have been of laughter and joy. Rollick’s face clouded with deep regret. If only he had seen what would happen…

They returned to the others, and Uluki, seeing how troubled Rollick was, touched his arm reassuringly. He kissed her cheek.

As Rollick sat back down with his family, Callie shyly approached. “Hello, Uluki.”

“Hello, Callie,” she replied, smiling brightly. “This is my husband Rollick, who I was telling you about, our daughters, Dash and Zee, our son Martin, our goddaughter Kira, and our friend Kaydee.” That was quite the mouthful.

Callie nodded in greeting. “You’re… the castellan?” she asked Rollick.

Rollick nodded, surprised. He hadn’t used his title with the refugees, not in an attempt to deceive them, but simply because he’d doubted they would have heard it before, or that it would have any meaning for them.

“So… you make some of the decisions here.”

“Some. I’m not the final authority on things, but if you have a problem I’ll do what I can to help.” Rollick had no idea where this was going, but he wanted to at least indicate a willingness to assist. “If I’m unable to do so, you can speak to Aorle when he returns.”

“I suppose Uluki told you about me?”

Rollick answered in the affirmative. Uluki had given him a brief description of all the new arrivals, so though she hadn’t placed particular emphasis on Callie’s story, he knew the basics.

“Uluki said everything was going to be alright. That I could stay here. So I was wondering what I was supposed to do.”

“Well, we do ask those who seek shelter here to assist us with the work that needs to be done for everyone’s benefit.” Rollick was confused, because he was fairly sure Callie had already been helping Uluki and the others with their cleaning. “But that’s really more my wife’s area of expertise…”

Callie blushed. “No, sir. I mean… that isn’t what I meant, sir. You deal with the soldiers and I’m… I’m not like the others here. My husband was on the wrong side. I was wondering what I had to do to prove my loyalty.”

“I… don’t think there’s anything in particular. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know. It depends on what you tell them to do. The warriors, I mean. They’ll beat me, probably. Put me on display as an example for the others. New bruises will show up well with the old ones gone. Then maybe I’ll be given to one of the soldiers, to warm his bed. To prove I’m on your side now. To atone for… with my husband.”

Uluki looked horrified. “I told you it was going to be alright!”

“I know. It will be. After. I can bear those things. I was just wondering, so I could be prepared. And I was hoping my little girl wouldn’t have to see it.” She looked imploringly at Rollick. “I thought maybe you could tell them that. Not to let her see.”

Rollick suddenly looked very tired. “First of all, none of that is going to happen. That kind of abuse is not accepted here, and should not be accepted anywhere. You have my word that you and your daughter will not be harmed in any way, no matter how much you are capable of bearing. People here are not beaten, and women are not given to men, as though they were objects. No one here would obey such an order, and no one here would give it. You need not fear such things from us. Second of all… I know in the past, you’ve been told that women must submit to the control of men. That should not be the case. We are equals. Make sure everyone knows that. My wife’s word is as good as mine. If Uluki tells you something, you need not come to me for confirmation.”

When Callie had rejoined the others, Rollick sighed. “There are so many evil men in this world, Uluki. Evil women, too, but men… so many of them seem eager to exploit. Panterras, Snyde, Callie’s husband… and many, many more.”

“There are good men, too,” Uluki pointed out. “There are lots of good men here. Including you.”

“I just worry. I worry about Martin. Will he grow up to be a good man? Will he be someone who helps and protects others, or will he seek his own gain at the expense of the defenceless? I try so hard to set a good example, but I just don’t know…”

Uluki found it difficult to imagine how a father could possibly set a better example, but she didn’t think Rollick was in the proper frame of mind to accept that just now. All she said was, “I don’t think we have anything to worry about on that account, love.”

[Falcon Bertille]

Kaydee enjoyed helping with the garden. Very little grew in the shanty town, other than a few gnarled weeds, and even if someone did manage to find a seed, they probably wouldn’t bother to plant it. Why should they? It would only be trampled, or stolen, or otherwise destroyed before they could ever harvest its bounty. The residents of the shanty town lived from day to day. They didn’t plan for the future -- in their world, there was no future.

But here, things were different. They would take this piece of lifeless ground, prepare it, plant seeds, and patiently nurture the fledgling sprouts of green until fruits and vegetables grew in the heart of a heartless city. To Kaydee, working in the garden felt like more than just a practical way to increase their food supplies. It was a leap of faith. An act of hope.

As she dug stones from the soil, laughing and chatting with her new friends, Kaydee kept a watchful eye on Dash. Just incase Uluki hadn’t been able to heal Kira enough to remove any threat caused by her proximity to Dash. But both Dash and Kira seemed quite healthy. Relieved, Kaydee turned her gaze back toward the compound. She knew that Aorle, Julen, and some of the others had left early that morning to strike a blow against Snyde. And, judging by the arrival of several new refugees, they were enjoying considerable success. Still, Kaydee worried. Snyde was cunning. Being driven into a corner might make him more dangerous than ever. Never having been taught any prayers, Kaydee wasn’t quite sure how to address the gods. So she silently whispered the name of each person who’d gone out to fight, hoping that keeping them in her thoughts would somehow also keep them safe.

Then it was time for lunch. Kaydee had been worried that Uluki and Rollick might treat her differently after learning what she’d done yesterday, that they might be angry or disgusted and not want her around anymore. But they still behaved as if she was a part of their family. Chewing on a piece of bread, Kaydee hoped she’d be able to keep from making any more stupid mistakes.

When Callie approached, Kaydee shrank back a little. She knew who the woman was. In fact, she’d heard her mentioned a few days ago. When Snyde gave Kaydee to his men for their enjoyment, Callie’s husband told her she was a much better fuck than the tired old hag he had at home, although there was no kindness to the compliment. It was mocking and brutal, just like everything else done to her on that day. Still, after hearing him speak those words, Kaydee wasn’t sure how Callie might react to her. Would she be like the wives who screamed at her for seducing their husbands? But it quickly became apparent that Callie wasn’t in the mood to scream at anyone. As Kaydee listened to her, apprehension rapidly turned into pity.

“It’s true,” Kaydee assured, after Rollick had finished speaking. “No one here would do anything like that to you. You’re safe now.”

Still, Callie’s unfortunate marriage reminded Kaydee of a question she’d wanted to ask. Once Callie departed, Kaydee decided to broach the subject.

“Uluki? Remember last night, when you gave me the keepsake box?” Kaydee paused a moment, savoring how nice that had been, how special she’d felt. “You said you nearly got married to someone you knew before Rollick. But you also said marrying that person would have been a mistake. And it got me thinking -- maybe other people meet the wrong person before they meet the right one. And maybe they aren’t like you. Maybe they don’t figure out that it’s the wrong person in time. Maybe they don’t even know it’s the wrong person until they meet the right one.”

Kaydee had certainly heard her fair share of men complaining about their wives, most of whom did sound truly shrewish. People made mistakes, in marriage as in everything else. “If you had married the first person, but then met Rollick later -- the person you were truly meant to be with. The person who could make you whole. What would you have done?”