By the Skin of Our Teeth

[skyler manfield]

“Skyler, stop pacing,� Hawk laughed, “You’re making me twitchy.�

The young assassin paused in the middle of the small room and turned wordlessly to face her mentor, then started pacing again. It was cold anyway and this kept her warm. This damned place was so cold she thought her nose might fall right off her face, even with the fire that roared and popped loudly on the hearth. Her boot heels were loud against the wood planks of the small house outside of town she and Hawk were holed up in.

“Sit down,� he said more sternly this time, “I mean it. If I didn’t think you could handle this I wouldn’t even consider sending you in there.�

Skyler huffed, rolled her eyes, and sat down in the floor right where she stood, folding her long legs lotus style before her. With raised eyebrows, she fixed her grey eyes on Hawk, waiting for the middle aged man to speak.

This war didn’t even interest the girl, the Church didn’t matter or the Rebellion. Who cared who was right, or what the political or religious implications were in this stupid war? One thing she couldn’t argue with though, was the thousands of people left devastated. So many women whose husbands had been murdered in cold blood and children who wouldn’t remember their fathers, simply because they were trying to defend what they believed in. Even at her worst, Skyler had never been asked to take the life of anyone who didn’t deserve it. There were whole villages left burning to the ground, the people freezing and starving, begging for help.

It was the only reason she had agreed to help. Her job this time wasn’t assassination, it was retrieval. Some poor fellow had gotten involved where he shouldn’t have and was now a captive of the Church. Hawk might not have cared, but he was involved in the Rebellion against the Church and they couldn’t have this man releasing names and locations. Skyler was skeptical - he’d been in prison for months, if he hadn’t told by now, he wouldn’t break anytime soon. He might even be dead. Hawk promised he wasn’t.

“You’re the only one who can do this,� Hawk reminded her, “It’s the reason he’s been in there for so long. Nobody else could get in past the guards that we haven’t been able to pay off.�

Skyler frowned, still upset they were willing to risk her neck for a cause she had no faith in and a man she’d never met. There was no money, no pay, only a happy feeling deep inside a heart she questioned if she had. She tried to remind herself it was a challenge, and she loved a challenge.

“And what about him,� she asked indignantly, “How do I get him out once I get in there? I’ve been in that prison before - and yes I know I’m only giving you more reason to send me in - and they don’t feed you nothing but pig slops once every week or two. He’ll be so weak he probably can’t walk. And that’s not counting if they’ve tortured him.�

Hawk nodded as if he’d thought of all her arguments already (he probably had, he hadn’t been the leader of the Radasanth Crime Syndicate for no reason). Steepling his fingers, he looked at his student fondly - dammit he knew she’d do whatever he told her, regardless of her argument.

“We’ve got that covered,� he reassured her, “You’ll take in food and clothing for him, and probably hide in his cell for at least a week until he’s able to walk out under his own strength.�

Skyler could have strangled the man who had been the closest thing she had to a father. He was avoiding her unasked question, and he knew her well enough to know exactly what she wanted to know. Fine, she’d ask it.

“And how exactly do I keep the guards from seeing this prisoner I’m walking out of their prison with?�

“You’ll find that out tomorrow,� Hawk smiled devilishly, “I have a good friend on his way who’ll tell you. He’s bringing everything you’ll need for your mission. We’re not going to set you up for failure my little mouse.�

“You better be glad I trust you,� she growled playfully, standing and going to the ladder to climb to a bed hidden in the loft of the cottage. She’d not sleep tonight, but she had a couple of hours to doze before Hawk’s friend came - after he gave her what she needed, then it would be up to her to get back to that place she’d worked so hard to escape with Malagen only a year before. The commitment was made now, she couldn’t go back.

[Inkfinger]

The Cathedral of Saint Denebriel towered above the city of Knife’s Edge like a spearhead cut from ice, delicate and deadly at the same time. It was a symbol, even in Salvar’s divided times, of the country’s strong faith: a sign of hope, for many, that this tower endured even as the nation’s civil war threatened to split the land in two. Its steeple nearly pierced the heavens, parting the gray clouds and casting a dark shadow almost to the city’s walls.

It was in the depths of those shadows, in the half of the city controlled by those who claimed the cathedral as their own, that the nation’s true strengths lay. Not in the Cathedral itself, not in the Church, but in the things that the church did in the name of the Ethereal Sway; the acts performed not in the shadows themselves, but beneath them, below the layers of tunnels and sewers that transformed the underbelly of Knife’s Edge into a catacomb.

The cathedral’s cells lay even further down than the sewers. Layers of old, moldering stone and warped wood held the earth out just as easily as they held the prisoners in. It was cold, it was damp and, following the winter plagued by civil war and famine, it was nearly full of prisoners, those few who had dared to anger the Church.

Cael Inkfinger was one such prisoner. He’d never planned to be here (though, really, no one plans to become a prisoner). Things had just conspired to make sure he was here, taking the full brunt of his brother’s rebellion gone horribly wrong. It wasn’t a very nice full brunt, either. It had left him clad in the tattered remains of his best (now only) clothes, mere rags that hung from his filthy, too-skinny frame. They did nothing to keep him warm anymore, and they were stiff in places where blood and dust and ill-spent sweat had formed something like mud. He sat curled in the corner, lank blond hair over his eyes, trying to hold his arm still. If he kept still, the iron manacle clasped tight around it wouldn’t bite into his reddened skin any more than it already had.

If only your mother could see you now, the unforgiving mental voice that seemed to have developed in his Familiar's absence purred. I don’t think she’d recognize her little blue-eyed-boy… He tried to ignore the voice around the stripped-and-frayed edges of his mind, focusing on other things instead. Things like the gates talking to parts of his brain he'd never realized he'd had before his imprisonment. Things like wondering how long it would be before he was fed again.

...Things like how he had never realized how much he depended on his familiar, until now; now, when he wasn’t allowed the paper or the ink to raise it.

That's not helping.

He let out a small sigh, trying to shift to a more comfortable position on the hard, narrow cot. The wall of tally marks before him seemed to loom, a fleeting distraction from his discomfort. He’d lost track days (or hours or weeks, maybe, time seemed to change at whim in here) ago and hadn’t made a new mark since, but the slashes there numbered at least five dozen.

He was still staring at the wall when he felt the gentle fingers of a breeze brush his cheek, blowing his matted hair back just a bit. He sat up a little straighter, glancing towards the bars before letting his eyes fall half shut, let his stiff shoulders brush the wall. The air that drifted through the unforgiving iron and into the dingy cold cell smelled of warmth and of things melting. It seemed to pull away the sick scents -the sweet-copper of dried blood, the musk of unwanted sex, the sour filth of human waste and of vomit- and leave a clean, wistful tone in its wake.

As refreshing as the breeze felt, even sullied by subterranean must and mold, it really only meant that there were guards coming. Cael focused on laying still, on appearing asleep, straining to listen to the words floating on that breeze. The conversation that hit his good ear from someplace just outside his bars was as stale and unwelcome as last week’s bread-crusts. But, like bread-crusts are still bread to a starving man, words were still words, and he fought to hear past the whistle of his ruined ear.

“How much longer do we have to bother keeping him alive?”

Cael shuddered, involuntarily curling his hand shut around his thumb, despite the pain it still caused. He knew that voice too well, had heard it day in and day out: Come, just one name, one name and it’s all over… It was only his dead certainty that if he gave that name he would die on the spot that had kept him, all those times, from giving that one name.

With my luck he’s not even in Knife’s Edge anymore, he thought, wryly, of his superior in the ill-fated rebellion. Ulric, more commonly known as the Scarab, wasn't the type to hang around on some idea of nobility. He knew he was better off alive - and Cael knew it too. The thought was mostly to help fill the chinks in his mental barricades that just hearing the voice had caused. He's somewhere long gone, just like the rest of them.

“Surprisingly?” The answering voice Lev Rezník, the captain of the guard. "A week longer. That's all he's got." Cael held his breath, thinking almost against his will, mostly to block himself from thinking of the captain's words.

He knew the captain's voice too well; better than he knew the interrogator's. There was a vast difference between the depths of knowledge. The interrogator's was merely burned into his mind. The captain's had seared his mind, scorched his soul and sunk deep in his psyche, in the same place he'd held the bogeyman as a boy.

“He hasn’t given anything we didn't already know, not in two months. We’ve tried everything short of skinning him alive. What makes them think he’s gonna bother saying another word?” There was the sound of someone exhaling, clearly annoyed. “Why wait a damn week? I mean, if the bastard didn’t break when I was peelin’ his nails off, or when Viktor’s so far up his as-”

Cael clapped his good hand over his good ear with a choked-off whimper, dimly aware that the motion was irrational. Both events had happened. He couldn't help but know that. His thumb throbbed where the wound left behind had gotten infected -it was still angry, raw and puffy though the first sliver of a new nail was beginning to form. The rest of his nails had escaped that fate, at least. His fingers still hurt - but not as much.

The other memory...

His face still flushed from the thought, a wave of revulsion lapping at his belly before he managed to shove it from his mind. He may have kept the crass, humiliating words out of his head, but between his low cry and the clank-chime of his irons when he moved the guards now knew he was awake. The captain moved to the open doorway, a knowing grin appearing on his broad face the moment Cael’s eyes flickered open.

“He’s been listening.” Cael read from the motion of his lips. He shrank back against the cold wall, feeling his stomach sink at the familiar frame. Rezník's voice still chilled him to the core. There was something in it's timbre, the way it vibrated against his skin, the briefest mental flash of him panting breathless against the back of …

Cael blanched away from the thoughts, unable to stop the full-body shudder that lanced down his spine.

Rezník stepped into the doorway, arms crossed, grin lazy; the flip side of Cael's memories flickering in his eyes. He knew, he knew, that he had nothing to fear from Cael: that the chain around Cael’s wrist stopped exactly six inches away from the door. No matter how he stretched, no matter how much he tugged (even if he dislocated his arm, which he’d tried once. They had just set it back in its socket, roughly) the door always remained just that far out of reach. That was why they left it open - just another form of torment.

“Do you want to die?” Cael half-heard, half-read, bad hand clutched to his narrow chest, good hand pressed against his ear.

Do you want to die…well, if that isn’t a loaded question, I don’t know what is. He watched the man in the door with hooded eyes for a long second before he gave a tiny shake of his head. No, he didn’t. Not really. Not yet. Escape, yes, but right now…

Right now that thought seemed so very far away.

His captor laughed.

“There’s a man coming to see you in a week's time. He works for the headsman." He paced forward, reaching out to brush a deceptively gentle hand beneath Cael's chin. He didn't seem bothered to notice his hand came away filthy. "He's got a sword almost as long as you are tall, an' he knows how to use it, too." Cael's skin crawled where those fingers touched, uncomfortably aware of his vulnerable position.

"He could, of course, have your head off faster than you'd feel it, quicker than you could draw the breath to scream...” Rezník went on, his deep voice almost conversational and soothing, for all the predator screamed from his eyes. Cael tried to meet his gaze, but every time he fixed his eyes on that bright green stare the memories threatened to flood back. Even the taunting, cruel words were better than those memories.

"But have you ever seen someone executed with a dull blade? Could take you nigh half an hour to bleed out, if he does it just right..." Cael's mouth went dry, breath catching in his throat as the captain's fingers laced into his hair, calloused thumb tracing his temple. “If you truly don’t want to die in agony, drop by drop," Rezník finished, shaking Cael's head by his handful of hair, "You’ll tell him what you haven’t told us, you understand?”

Cael finally dragged his eyes up, managed to hold his gaze for a fraction of a second before he felt sick, memories and fears colliding like river against rocks. Finally he just dropped his hand from his ear and shook his head as far as he could without yanking hair, slowly.

“Yes,” he rasped out in a voice made hoarse by the contradictory combination of silence and screaming. “I understand.” He managed to put just the tiniest smear of attitude on the rest of his words, though he didn’t doubt he’d pay for it later. “Can’t promise I’ll obey, of course, but I understand just fine.”

Green eyes narrowed to poisonous slits, lips curled in disgust. Cael cringed back, expecting a fresh blow or worse, but the captain simply let go of his hair, wiped his fingers on Cael's ragged shirt. He left without another word. Rare, in Cael's experience, but he wasn’t about to complain. As it was, he could only curl up smaller and try to sleep, try not to think, and dread whatever this new day would bring.

[skyler manfield]

The flaring light of a lantern turned the insides of Skyler’s eyelids to a flaming red and she groaned and sat up, refusing to open her eyes and look at her mentor. Hawk’s associate must have arrived - which meant there were only a couple of hours left before she began her mission. With a deep breath she swung her feet over the edge of her cot and opened her eyes to glare at Hawk. He grinned at her and then disappeared back down the ladder, leaving the lantern behind for her to gather her things. There wasn’t much gathering necessary.

She landed with a crouch at the bottom of the ladder, foregoing the climb down the rungs. A pair of men watched her from the table in the small kitchen area, their eyes wary and probing. The assassin frowned, looking from one face to the other and finally casting a stare heavy with questions at her mentor. Hawk simply smiled a thin lipped smile at her and turned away as he pulled his dark hair into a pony tail at the base of his neck.

“Was there going to be an introduction, or were you going to just be rude?� Skyler finally asked sarcastically, crossing to the kettle that bubbled on the back of the stove and grabbing a cup from the cupboard above. Pouring herself a cup and sipping its herbal bitterness, she raised an eyebrow at Hawk as she waited.

“This is my friend Fox Olssen, he’ll provide you with some tools you’ll need to get in and even more important out of the church,� he directed her attention to a small man with dark hair and darker eyes, pock marked skin and a scar that cut through his lips and down his chin. He looked dangerous, but a twinkle of humor was hidden in his eyes. Skyler had heard of Fox before - he and Hawk had grown up together here in Knife’s Edge.

“Our other friend here, is Ludvik Strandssen. His brother is Cael, the one you’re going to retrieve. He’ll be able to provide you with important information about his brother, and maybe give you some misinformation for his brother to let slip to the guards while you nurse him back to health. Of course, he won’t be providing you with any actual information in case you are captured as well. If that is the case, we will not be sending anyone after you.�

“Good to know I’m expendable,� Skyler quipped, “And such a pleasure to meet the two gentleman who might be the very reason for my death.�

Taking her cup of tea, Skyler pulled a chair out at the table where the visitors sat, and took a seat. One long finger traced the grain of the wood table, her face a mask of mixed feelings. The glow of the fire turned her eyes from grey to molten silver to whiskey gold and back again.

“You are not at all expendable,� Ludvik spoke in a very thick accent and it took her a moment to realize what he was saying, “If you were so unimportant I would not trust you to be the one to find my brother and bring him home to his family. I would not send some child into the bowels of that place if I did not believe she was capable of surviving it. I would refuse to allow it. Enough innocents have died in this ridiculous show of pride.�

His response sobered Skyler a bit. Now she felt guilty for doubting Hawk’s reason for sending her on this mission. Looking up from her cup of tea, she met his pale blue gaze. For a long moment she just stared at him, leaving a pregnant silence in the room as the other two just watched.

“I‘m ready whenever you are - the sooner you can give me any information you want me to have, or whatever tools I need, the better. I’d rather go in around a shift change, makes life easier when the guards are already distracted. They tend not to notice things anyway, and when you fade into the shadows, they forget to look.�

They spent the next hour going over the blueprints of the church for the last time, and Ludvik gave her a packet of papers including a note for his brother. Fox had brought her several vials of poison, although only one type of poison was actually intended to be used in their plan, and only as a sedative for her to steal the keys or any other supplies she may need for the days she was in the prison. He also gave her one very necessary tool which was the one thing that made this job possible to pull off.

“This is a mirror chain - it’s actually made of glass links from Fallien which hold a certain magical quality. In this case, the glass links are cast around steel ones to make them stronger. But the real importance of this chain is that when used to bind two people together it allows the magical abilities of one person to be shared with the other,� Fox explained carefully, holding up the strange length of frail chain with odd looking manacles at each end.

“It’s the only way we can think of to get you and Cael out of the prison alive. You’ll have to bind him to you and use your ability to hide him,� Hawk added quietly, his hand on Skyler’s shoulder as she stood before the fire tucking the packets of paper away into hidden pockets in her clothes, and sliding weapons into their homes. She nodded solemnly, taking the chain and letting it drop into a small bag which she then placed in a tiny box and hid in a pocket by her heart. Hawk nodded approvingly. The poisons were in her leather case in a backpack that laid on the table looking harmless.

“It’s time Hawk,� Skyler said quietly, turning to face her mentor, “No more time to put it off. I have every possible tool to do what I can to help. I won’t be coming out of there alive unless it’s with this man.�

With a graceful movement Skyler put her backpack on her back, and had the door open. A hand on her wrist caused her to turn and look back. It was Ludvik, who stood with tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,� he whispered, “And come back.�

Skyler laughed, breaking the tension in the room, “Well of course I’m coming back - you think I’d let a bunch of brainless guards be the death of me? Not glamorous enough for me in the least. Take care of Hawk for me. He gets worried when I don’t come back right away. Don’t let him pace a hole in the floor.�

Pulling away from him, Skyler winked at Hawk and closed the door behind her, her heart pounding in her chest. Her false bravado was hopefully more convincing to them than it had been to herself.

[Inkfinger]

They say (though Cael had never figured out who, exactly, they were) that there’s nothing like the threat of impending death to focus the mind. Cael had been living with the hangman’s noose (or, as it were, the headsman’s sword) at his neck for months now.

Which was probably why it wasn’t working.


--

He was five again. He knew he was five again with the same certainty that he knew he was dreaming. He knew he was five again by the fact that he had a giant gap in his teeth, big enough to fit his whole tongue through, and by the workshop door in front of him. It had notches carved into it, with names painted in careful, crude letters: Ida. Ludvik. Aksel. Halsten. and there at the bottom, a good three inches lower than the other boys had been at age five (and a half), Caelric.

They weren’t supposed to play near the workshop: the racks for smoked and dried fish, shelves of the jars and bottles their mother used to preserve oil for lamps, and for wool,and for the people from the city who claimed the smelly stuff was good for you if you drank it, fishing nets and lines and lures were all shoved haphazardly beneath the lean-to roof, waiting for the next time the ships came in. They weren't supposed to be playing there, but they were anyways. The lean-to walls were perfect for hiding behind.

He was sopping wet and freezing cold, and he didn’t really care. He slunk along between the wall of the workshop and the wall of the rickety lean-to, a snowball in each fist, listening to the crunch of feet against snow. The footsteps came closer and closer, and he ducked down further, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, watching the late-winter sun play through the green and blue and gray bottles.

His stalker stepped on something with a loud thunk, followed by a whole slew of words that they were not supposed to know. Cael searched his shaky, minutes-old memory of the yard, trying to figure out what the other boy had stepped on, but nothing came to mind. He poked his head up over the top of the short wall. Ah. The shovel. So maybe that hadn’t been the best place to leave it…

He ducked back down, giggling anyways, then froze, one hand clamped over his mouth. It was too late by that point, though – Ludvik (or maybe it was Halsten, or Aksel, some days it was just hard to tell) had heard him. He heard the renewed crunch of snow, heard the movement stop[/bu], just above his head. He held his breath for a moment – and then leapt away from the wall, flinging his snowballs at his older brother’s face.

Not one of them, adult Cael remembered in his sleep, could remember quite what had happened next. One moment, he saw his snowballs flying at their target. The next, he saw both the brother (Ludvik, he remembered thinking, the moment he saw the gap between the older boy’s grown-up teeth) and the shovel, flying at him.

Ludvik reached him first, flattening him against the slushy gray snow at the exact moment the shovel passed through the space where his head would have been. It kept going, slamming into the wall of bottles and jars with an almighty crash of shattering glass, showering them both with fragments and shards and the stink of fish.

They lay there for a moment, both panting and too stunned to move. The other two brothers peered over the wall, wide-eyed.

“Oh, sway-damn,� one breathed. “That was the last month of work…� They were backing away as Cael managed to roll to his knees, golden oil dripping from the ends of his hair, sliding down his nose. He wiped it away irritably as Aksel (or Halsten) shook his head.

“You are in so much trouble…� He sing-songed before they both fled, laughing.

The cold and wet from earlier hadn’t had Cael shaking, but he shook now, looking at Ludvik. Mother’s going to be [u]furious…

Ludvik had fallen far enough away that the wave of destruction had missed him. He was simply covered with snow and slush, and five-year-old Cael watched him warily as the beginning sounds of movement could be heard from inside.

“Are…are you gonna run away too?� Cael was the only one dripping. If Ludvik did, the odds were good that Cael would also be the only one in trouble.

“Don’t worry, Ricci.� Ludvik said, with all the bravado and pride that ten years can give a boy, brushing snow from Cael’s trousers even as the back door to their mother’s workshop creaked open. “I won’t ever leave you to take my falls.�


--

When he woke, slowly, gradually, he was crying; tears drying in cold sticky tracks on his cheeks. He shifted to brush them from his eyes, iron chains chafing against his wrists with the motion.

“Aw.â€� The last shreds of sleep disappeared, burned away by the furnace of fear that flared to life simply at the sound of that voice. Cael sat up, heart pounding, scrambling as far from the voice as his shackles would let him get. ReznÃ*k leaned against the wall next to his bed, all leonine grace and threat. “Is little Ricci scared?â€�

Cael managed not to flinch. He was inordinately pleased with that fact – the simple nickname cut far too close to the dream, and the incongruity of it coming from ReznÃ*k…

“What do you want?� He managed to rasp out with one last swipe at the remains of his tears. He waited, warily, for the answer - the captain of the guard was brutal, sadistic and, above all, manipulative. He would say one thing to lead his quarry off, to lure them into thinking he meant a second thing when his goal was, in fact, the third or fourth thing down the line. Sometimes, he didn’t even use words.

ReznÃ*k moved closer, silently, one hand latched around the chain, holding Cael in place. His other hand ghosted down the side of Cael’s face, brushing his lank, filthy hair away from his bruised jaw, tracing over the fading purples and greens with a gentleness that belied his true nature. The delicate touch stole the breath from Cael’s lungs. He tried, determinedly, not to think about the other places that hand had touched.

“I could,â€� ReznÃ*k finally said, softly, as he drew away, “save you from this. Call off the headsman, set you free…â€� The way he said it, Cael almost – for half a second – believed him, but then he remembered the look in his eyes when he’d first spoke of the execution, the glow on his face…

“Yes, set me free from this just to be your whore, right?â€� He snarled, mustering the courage from some forgotten corner of his soul. He glanced at ReznÃ*k’s face, and this time he did flinch away; away from the naked mingling of hatred and desire dancing behind the green. “And what,â€� he managed to continue, though his throat suddenly felt like fire and his spine like ice, “do I do to earn such an honor? Just…let me guess. Give the names.â€� He snorted in disdain, though his defiance quavered when he started coughing, struggling to catch enough breath to continue.

“What’s so sway-blessed important that you have to keep me alive? You…you killed Kamen, killed Damyan, I’ve been here, what, two months? Three? Anything I told you would be out of date by now, yesterday’s news, the rooster crowing for dawn at noon.â€� ReznÃ*k was just watching, silently, and Cael, dimly, realized that probably was not a good sign. What’s the saying? Anyone will hang themselves, given enough rope… “You could have found what you wanted a thousand times over if you weren’t wasting your time on me. So why in all nine frozen hells am I even still alive?â€�

ReznÃ*k just continued to watch him as he fought to catch his breath, cursing the damp and the cold, robbing him of even being able to breathe normally. The captain seemed wholly unimpressed, running his fingers up and down the length of chain.

“You’re right,� he said, finally, as Cael’s head drooped to rest on his chest, his breathing ragged in his throat. “We could have learned so much about your brother, and about Ulric Havelka…�

Cael’s head shot up as every nerve in his body flared back to painful awareness, shocked to the quick by the casual use of the name he’d spent every waking second of the last few months protecting.

“Yes,â€� ReznÃ*k purred, the cat that has eaten not only the canary, but the canary’s entire flock. “We’ve known.â€�

Two simple words and the walls of his defiance shook; crumbling, like moldering brick placed beneath a waterfall until their edges wore away. What lay behind, in the darkness, Cael didn’t know; but whatever it was, it was mewling - whimpering in desperation-edged whines, an injured hare pinned beneath a fox’s claws.

“You…you knew…?�

They…I…I thought…but…

“That’s what I said. We’ve known. We were hoping they’d think the fact that we’ve not gutted you yet meant they were safe, that we didn’t know who they were, couldn’t get at them… certain parties, myself included,â€� ReznÃ*k had a cat’s grin as well – all flash and gleam and teeth, with no true happiness. “Were hoping they’d come back for you.â€� He shook his head, sadly. Cael watched out of the corner of his eyes as he continued.

“But, see. Ulric’s been seen on the border of Alerar, always moving further south…and that brother of yours, well. He’s fallen right off the face of the world, it seems. You aren't high on their list of priorities, Ricci.�

Cael tried to look at him. Tried to glare, tried to snarl, but all the while the words were going through his head: it’s all been for nothing. The thought made his already pained breathing go heavier, hitching somewhere between his ribs and his throat in a lump.

“And, well,â€� ReznÃ*k didn’t pause. “If they stick to that, and you keep this up?â€� He shrugged, carelessly. “No skin off my nose, at least I know I broke your spirit.â€� He chucked a hand under Cael’s chin. Cael couldn’t even find the strength to snap at his hand, though he could still see the marks his teeth had made last time he’d done that. “Cheer up, kiddo. It’ll be over in six days, one way or another. You should think about my offer.â€� He stroked Cael’s cheek then, fingers rough, heedless of the bruises darkening his jaw. “I mean, almost anything’s better than getting your head chopped off, right?â€�

Except, Cael thought bitterly, it all ends the same. It’d probably happen anyways, soon as you got bored with me. He didn’t voice his thoughts out loud.

ReznÃ*k stood, abruptly, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I’ve a shift change to handle,â€� he said, as if that would mean anything to Cael. As if Cael actually cared. “You stay put.â€�

He missed the rude sign Cael threw at his departing back, but that was alright.

Cael probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do it if he’d been watching, after all.

[skyler manfield]

It was no trouble getting through the city to the Cathedral, even in spite of the curfew and the guards which milled about, supposedly watching for those who would disobey the strict orders of the Sway. The assassin really didn’t even have to stick to the quickly deepening shadows flickering at the edges of the buildings as the torches died down but the dawn hesitated to creep over the horizon. Skyler was so unremarkable to them, so unworthy of their attention, she could have skipped right across their paths and they’d have barely batted an eyelash. She could only hope gaining access into the dungeons of the massive holy place would be just as simple.

The heavy arched door of a two story shop to her right opened and an old woman stuck her head out, dropping a surprised looking orange kitten outside into the alley along with a bowl of milk, glancing up with a polite nod to Skyler. Five minutes then, until the shift change - she needed to pick up the pace. Glancing upward, she craned her neck to view the spires of the Cathedral that towered overhead, impaling the laden clouds above and sending down fitful showers of wet snow. Taking a deep breath, the assassin collected her thoughts and took off walking quickly yet quietly down the street. A left turn at the chandler’s shop where the light still burned within would take her into an alley where a door remained unlocked that led within the Cathedral.

A furtive glance confirmed Skyler’s hope that the guards were all focused on the main entrance and their shift change. This door was only used for access to the dumpster behind a grocer’s shop on the next block. It was well known (although rarely mentioned) that the prisoners of war were fed from whatever scraps the guards laughingly foraged from the putrefying waste of the local grocer.

Unnoticed, the mousy girl slipped through the door and into the unlit corridor. Pausing for barely a moment to allow her eyes to adjust, Skyler settled her backpack more comfortably on her shoulders and then quickly moved forward. Ahead, she had been advised, was a trapdoor in the floor which was an emergency exit from the dungeon should their ever be a riot in the cells below. Supposedly, one of their allies had been hired as a guard somehow, and had managed to unlock the door to the musty dungeon and had left it partially open by lodging a piece of moldy bread in the latch.

Skyler smiled to herself as her foot fell on the uneven surface of the hidden entrance to the next part of her task, and stepped back, sliding her thin fingers into the narrow slot the bread left between the wood of the door and the slate floor. She lifted it only far enough to slip beneath it and onto the first rung of the ladder, stepped down slowly and let it close above her, flicking the rotten bread down the hall toward the door she’d entered through. Anyone who might see it there would simply assume it had fallen from the load of whomever was responsible for gaining food for the prisoners.

The climb down the ladder was quite long, and a few of the rungs were missing, which in the pitch black of this part of the dungeon left her heart pounding while she hung by one hand not certain how far she might fall if she were to lose her grasp. Skyler was quite sure she didn’t want to find out. It was a relief when her feet finally reached the dusty wooden floor of the dungeons instead of yet another of what seemed an endless number of wooden dowels.

There was no hint of the outside world in this place - it was as if she’d entered some other dark land where sunlight was forgotten and fresh air did not exist. With a shudder, Skyler shoved away the memories of her last experience in the Salvarian dungeon with Malagen. She knew they would help her very little in her current goals - besides, she had only remained for less than a week. Cael had been here for possibly months now - and had perhaps a week left before he was tortured once more and then finally executed. If she could not rescue him, then perhaps his execution was for the best.

Keeping her right hand always on the moist stone walls, and her left ahead of her, dagger clenched in her fist, Skyler managed to find her way to the main network of cells at the center of the dungeon. Light from the occasional torch filtered slowly down the halls, and she could see its bronze reflection in the moldy bricks. The smell of fear and human excrement was stronger, and she knew it was more important than before that she tread carefully.

Nobody had been able to tell her which cell belonged to her target. They had assumed he would be closest to the center, and also fairly near to the torture equipment - if they had chosen to use standard torture methods on him. Having read the information on some of the people who held Cael captive, it seemed like they might enjoy alternative measures. The thought left the assassin cold.

As it was, she would have to wait now until either the next shift change, or if food was brought. Often they happened at the same time. Dropping through a hole in the floor into the area where the most highly guarded prisoners were held, and furtively sneaking around the last corner, Skyler caught her first glimpse of the guards who stood before the cluster of cells where she hoped Cael awaited her arrival. None of them appeared to be closed, which was strange, but she thought she saw movement beyond the bars in the center cell. Glancing at the torch on the wall beside the heavy door, the assassin judged how long it had been burning - likely they would bring new torches with the shift change as well. Judging by that - and how fidgety the current guard was - she didn’t figure she had long to wait.

Perhaps it was a risk, but Skyler decided to chance it based on how distracted he was. The assassin guessed he needed to relieve himself (although why he didn’t just piss in the prisoner’s cell or on the poor thing she wasn’t sure), and used the opportunity to stealthily cross the room, carefully placing her feet against the stones, her shadow melding with the shadows created by the dying torch. The guard jumped as a screeching sound notified him that his relief had come, and Skyler took advantage of the moment to skitter the rest of the way into the cell where she felt certain her target now huddled in the corner. She crouched in the opposite corner, still amazed at the open door to the cell until she saw the brutal shackles that chained him to his wooden cot and bit into the pale skin at his skeletal wrists and ankles. Breathlessly, the assassin waited as the new guard brought the tin plate with dried bread and a bowl of cold broth for his prisoner. He did not stay though - there was no reason to; his prisoner would not and could not escape his bonds. She counted to one hundred before making herself known by standing up and stretching her legs.

“Don’t scream,� the assassin spoke in a low voice, “Ludvik sent me. I’ve got medical supplies and better food than that tripe they claim you should eat.�

She tipped the tin plate over with the toe of her boot, spilling the bread and broth onto the dirt floor, which brought a pair of rats scurrying from a hole in the corner. Shrugging, she offered a crooked smile.

“You are Caelric Strandssen, right?�

[Inkfinger]

One moment, he was alone again in the dank cell, staring at the carved bowl and wondering if he would actually be able to keep anything he ate down this time. If the nausea in his stomach and the strange, painful tickle in his throat were any indication, he would guess no. The next moment, the food was all over the floor, spilled out over the packed earth by the slip of a girl that he could have sworn had not been there ten minutes ago – or even ten seconds ago, for that matter.

I must be sicker than I thought, he shifted to sit upright on his cot, chains clanking together loudly. His hip and knee creaked in protest at the simple movement. I don’t usually have fever dreams this early. They usually came after a week or more of being sick – maybe this just meant he was getting worse. There had been stretches of time where his imprisonment felt like one fever dream after another, but this… this felt different. This felt more real.

Or maybe I just want it to feel more real. I’ve never dreamed someone came from Ludvik before…

The thought stung, and he answered the girl, mostly to cut himself off from his thoughts. “That’d, ah.� He thought about lying for all of a second – but if this was another trick, really, what would that accomplish? “Yes. That’d be me, miss,� he replied softly, carding one hand through his hair. The strands literally crunched beneath his fingers, sending a shudder up his spine and his hand to the rough blanket, trying, unconsciously, to scrub them clean (or at least cleaner). Just because she was a hallucination didn’t mean that he couldn’t be polite.

“But I am…curious.� Hallucination or no, she was the first person in months who hadn’t begun a conversation with a promise of pain or a threat of torment. He blinked at her, head tilted just a bit, hand rubbing his bad ear now. She was a small girl, or woman, toeing the line between petite and mousy, but something in her eyes warned of inner strength, like the depths that lay beneath a calm sea.

“Who, exactly, would I scream to? The guards? The church who has me stuck-â€� his voice almost broke, almost sent him squawking like an adolescent boy. He coughed, hard, feeling his breath catch in his lungs before carrying on as if nothing had happened. “-in here?â€� Or ReznÃ*k? He shuddered again at that thought, reflexively, leaving it unspoken; as if ReznÃ*k was a ghoul or spirit, and speaking his name would call him back. But, with that one little thought, the almost-playful mood left him, leaving him empty. Even my own mind had to get in on the action.

He drew the scratchy blanket tighter around his shoulders, venturing another glance towards the door of his cell. The new guard, the one whose food the girl had tipped, was ignoring him, polishing the buttons on his coat with a greasy rag. They never paid much attention to him, not when the Captain wasn’t around to make things interesting. Cael reached out to nudge one of the rats with his foot. The rat tried to ignore him, steadily gnawing at the hard bread clutched between its paws. The other was licking the thin broth off the soil. He could remember them doing the same with his blood…

No. That’s not the point! The voice in his head, the little one that sounded like his familiar, was raging. The rats are there, and you’re not bleeding. What’s that mean?

Well, for one, rats didn’t generally play a part in his dreams. If these rats are different... He cast the strange girl another look before he actually kicked the rat. It dropped the bread with an affronted squeak, scurrying out of his cell and down the hall, light footsteps sending it over the guard’s feet. The guard cursed, shaking the rat off his foot and glaring into the dark cell. Cael managed a weak smile back. The return look was even less friendly than the first had been.

A real guard would not react to hallucinated rats, the voice in his head said, matter of fact and almost smug. Real rats would not react to hallucinated spilled food. And you did not dump the food. Therefore...

A long, awkward silence fell in the cell, Cael taking care to not even move, lest he make a noise and call the guard in, lest he accidentally break whatever it was that let this girl into his cell unnoticed. The guard moved to polishing the hilt of his sword before Cael found his voice again. This time it came as a strained whisper that held none of the giddiness that danced around the edges of his mind. Ludvik didn’t leave me!

“You’re…you’re not r-really a hallucination, are you?�

[skyler manfield]

The poor man didn’t even jump, much less scream when she spoke to him. He seemed to think he was hallucinating, a sad idea, and she frowned, head tilted sympathetically as he spoke. The guard returned and didn’t even care enough about his prisoner to care that he was speaking to someone. Perhaps this would make her job that much easier.

The assassin moved over to his ‘cot’ - a wooden plank that used to be a door, hanging from the wall by chains - and took a seat, removing her heavy backpack and gently settling it on the floor. With care she started pulling things from it as he spoke. He’d been here much too long. There would be no recovery from the things they had done to him now she feared, and it turned her stomach to think what those things might have been.

As Caelric kicked a rat toward the guard, Skyler stifled a laugh and leaned back quietly against the wall lest the guard’s raised attention notice her sitting there. While he was distracted she could move and speak as needed, so long as she was quiet and discreet. Her ability seemed to force a person’s mind to look around her, to attribute any motion or sound she might make to anything but the fact that a skinny little girl was there stealing or killing or otherwise about to make their life hell.

“No,� she replied, grateful that the prisoner was still bright enough not to draw the guards attention into the cell itself - she didn’t want to join him in his torture, “I’m quite real. Ludvik was very excited when my master introduced me to him. He had almost given up hope. I think he might have come in here himself had I not come along - well perhaps if it were not for his children.�

Skyler returned to her task of removing things from her backpack - she’d have to keep the pack on her, or else hide it when she didn’t need to access the supplies within, lest the guards find it and then her. First and foremost was food - then medicine. A loaf of fresh bread, a small block of sharp cheddar, a flask of whiskey, another of still warm beef broth, and a couple of apples. It would have to last the two of them the several days until she was able to smuggle the poor man out of this hellhole.

“Eat first Caelric,� she advised, breaking off a piece of bread and soaking it in the beef broth, “I’ll be here to answer your questions. We’re not leaving yet - it’ll be some time before you’re strong enough. As you can see I’m not quite of a size for dragging your ass out of here alone. Like as you’d bleed to death from some of your wounds once we got moving, I’d rather that not happen.�

Skyler drew out a small bag from within her backpack, all the medical supplies she would hopefully need to get Caelric back on his feet. As she laid out tiny jars of salve and coils of linen gauze, the small assassin spoke - answering questions she knew he must have.

“I’m Skyler Manfield,� she introduced herself, “Former assassin trainee for the Radasanth Crime Syndicate. My mentor and your brother, Ludvik, are somehow acquainted, I think through a mutual friend my mentor called Fox.�

Though not hungry, her descent into the bowels of the Cathedral had left her parched, and Skyler twisted the lid from a flask of her own, one with vodka rather than whiskey in it. Taking a swig, she sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cell, closing her eyes for a moment. Soon she would need to sleep, and she became more vulnerable when she did - her defenses went away and people could see her. It was how Hawk had discovered her unique ability when she was only a child and decided to train her in the art of assassination.

“I swear it to you Caelric,� she finally spoke again, “The only way I’m leaving this place is with you. And I wouldn’t come in here if I wasn’t absolutely sure I could leave.�

The first part at least was true.

[Inkfinger]

Oh, heavens bless, she brought apples. Real apples. That realization was enough to draw Cael’s mind away from the uneasy curiosity of why’d they send an assassin? Only her words, that Ludvik had sent her, kept his mind (mostly) off of all the bad paths that it could wander down.

“I’m glad to hear it,� he said, still quietly, not quite looking at her. “I didn’t make sure I had a way to leave.� Smart people had escape plans and exit strategies for this type of thing. He used the ‘blunder in and get the stuffing kicked out of self’ method of dealing with problems. It hadn’t gotten him killed yet, but that was not for lack of trying. “‘s why I’m in here…�

His fingers twitched, and he longed to grab one of the apples, but it had been so long since he’d actually had real solid food. He reached out for the broth-steeped bread instead, the wholesome scent almost stinging fresh tears to his eyes. The bread was soft, a glaring contrast to the hard crusts he’d become accustomed to. He had to force himself not to shove the whole chunk in his mouth at once, had to force himself to chew every last bite, to savor the rich, healthy taste.

If you just shove things down, you’re only going to get sicker, and no one wants that...

He reached for one of the flasks instead, swigging down a mouthful without bothering to take a sniff first. The contents – whiskey – lit his throat on fire and hit his nearly-empty stomach like a ton of burning brick before it almost came spewing back with his hacking, bone-deep cough.

The guard outside the door smirked at him, clearly interpreting the cough as a result of his illness and not of smuggled alcohol. He dug a pipe out from somewhere in his uniform jacket and moved further down the hall, pointedly ignoring his prisoner’s gasping.

…like that, idiot. His throat and lungs burned and throbbed, and the nebulous space between his eyes and inside his skull felt like it had been run over by a horse cart. If you’ve barely eaten anything, whisky’s not the way to go.

“R-right,� he croaked when he could speak again, “that was stupid.� He slowly uncurled shaking fingers from the flask, handing it back to the young assassin. “Y-you have water?�

The look he received in return was a strange mixture of amusement, disgust and disbelief, but she handed him the second flask. “You’re right, it was stupid.� She recapped the flask of whiskey as Cael managed a weak smile at her reply, sipping carefully this time. She’d said they’d be here some time, after all. They couldn’t run out of provisions.

The small mouthful slid down easy, soothing the burn; so gentle and pure that it did bring the tears that the bread hadn’t managed. Skyler, tactfully, didn’t meet his eyes. Cael cleared his throat roughly, swiping his knuckles under his nose before he looked back at his potential rescuer.

“Thank you.�

She snorted, brushing her hair back from her eyes. Ever that small motion was carefully precise: she didn’t make the slightest sound. “You’re as bad as your brother,� she said, softly, her voice as unassuming, measured and calm as everything else about her. “I haven’t got you out yet. Hold on to your thanks a few days.�

…A few days. The thought drew him back to the fresh, raw memories of ReznÃ*k and his ultimatum, of heavy hands and heavy blades. Cael quailed, taking another sip of the water to hide the fear. The water washed away some of the accumulated dried blood and grit and filth from his teeth, and he managed another weak smile.

“Alright. I’ll s-save the thanks until we’re out.� He rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood of his bed thrice, carefully avoiding his injured fingers. He watched as she took a gulp from her own flask, her eyes drifting closed for a second.

“Will…will you need a place to sleep?� His eyes flickered toward where the guard had disappeared. He couldn’t imagine her going unnoticed for a whole night, or a whole shift. Just because his guards didn’t care didn’t mean they were stupid, and he didn’t know if she could repeat her appearance trick, or if that was a one-time deal. The thought of being alone, again, left him colder than it would have before. “Or are you sneaking back out again?�

[skyler manfield]

With a weary mix of amusement and pity, Skyler watched as the poor prisoner choked and sputtered on the whiskey. It wasn’t even that strong of whiskey, but even weak it was more than his taxed body could handle. Taking the flask, she exchanged it for a slightly larger one filled with spring water. If they ran out, she would sneak back out and find some melted snow or perhaps a well to get fresh water, but at the moment she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

The exhaustion was creeping up on her now - or perhaps just relief that she had made it in unnoticed. Her body was telling her that it was time to relax, the first part of her mission had been completed. Sighing heavily, the mousy assassin did not allow herself to curl up on the cot like she wanted to, but instead opened a jar of willow bark and lavender salve, applying it to the linen bandages she produced from the medical kit. Grey eyes didn’t leave the task at hand for a long silent moment, as she allowed Caelric privacy with his first real meal and fresh water in who knew how long.

When she did look back she saw the fear in his eyes, obviously deathly afraid of whether he would escape before the swordsman came for his head. Instead of speaking to that fear, she simply motioned for him to continue eating, and took his free wrist gently into her lap.

The shackles had rubbed the skin almost completely away, the muscle brutally exposed and scabbed over, pussy beneath with infection. She hoped she had caught it in time. From a small velvet bag that hung between her small breasts, she produced a lock pick which she used to gently unlock the rusted iron shackles that held Caelric in this cell. She almost gagged as they fell away and took pieces of his skin with them where they had rubbed his wrists raw. She feared how his ankles probably looked, and was soon able to see that they were no better.

“I’d better let you finish eating and get this cleaned up before I even try to find a place to sleep,� Skyler replied quietly, looking up at him from the floor where she sat with legs tucked under her, “It would be safer if I were to leave and hide somewhere they wouldn’t look for me. But I’d rather figure out how to stay hidden here if I can, you don’t look like you want to be left alone again. Besides, I’d rather not tempt fate by sneaking in and out too many times.�

As she pulled the flask of vodka out again, she handed the captive a piece of leather to bite down on. If he screamed she had to be ready to hide, so Skyler moved into a crouching position before she carefully opened the flask and began to pour the alcohol over the raw wounds that were once his ankles.

[Inkfinger]

Don’t scream, Cael thought as he bit down on the leather, jaws protesting the pressure almost immediately. He had to breathe through his nose, and it borderline hurt, but it also distracted him from what was happening. If you scream, the guards come and she gets to go through what you already have.

The thought didn’t really bear further thinking, and he shoved it away, tightening his hand on the hard edge of his cot and clamping his teeth down, staring at some point behind Skyler’s shoulder. He could see her moving, but not really see what she was doing, and that was quite fine by him. He let his mind wander; only tensing just a tiny bit when he saw her lean forward.

She needs a place to stay while she sleeps. There’s…there’s under the cot… On a floor sticky and smelling of rats and moldering stone and dried blood. He shook his head at that idea, letting his rambling thoughts pull him away from the sudden splash of liquid.

The cell next is empty, but if she doesn’t want to tempt fate…plus it has a door. If they moved someone there, she’d wind up stuck. The vodka burned when it trickled into the ruined flesh, and he barely kept from flinching. He clung to the wood, instead, until his knuckles went white and the joints in his fingers creaked. The fiery pain was a clean pain, however, different than the sorts he’d been put through so many times since his imprisonment began. The scream they had both feared would come was little more than a whimper that didn’t make it past the leather, and then it was gone; washed away with the alcohol dripping off his skin.

He pulled the soggy strip of leather from his mouth, wadding it in his hand as he watched Skyler work carefully, waiting for the right time to speak.

There’s…not a lot of places to hide in here, he slowly realized, visually inspecting every nook and cranny of the cell through watering eyes. He already knew the cell like the back of his hand, even without moving from the edge of the bed.

Unless…

There was the bed. He reached one hand back to touch the thin, rough blanket they’d left him. It itched, smelled like dust, and had the unfortunate off-white coloration of porridge, stained here and there by thin broth and not-so-thin blood, but it was a blanket. It did keep him slightly warmer, and (by some oversight or some small mercy, he wasn’t sure which) it was wide. It’d be big enough for two, with some left over to account for enough wrinkles and bunching…

Well. It was an idea. It wasn’t a particularly brilliant idea, but it was all they had.

Skyler worked quickly and efficiently to bind his ankles, her touches nimble and quick, gentle but firm when needed. She kept working until she’d neatly wrapped every inch of reddened, painful skin, each bandage wrapped wide enough to cover the wound, but not so wide that it would show above the manacles. The pain had grown less and less strident with each drop of vodka until it finally subsided into a simple, dull throb.

“I have an idea,� he said, softly, after she’d refastened the manacles. The thick iron hid the clean white from view, perfectly. She nodded in satisfaction before she looked at him, the question in her eyes as she moved to sit on the cot.

The silence was somewhat disconcerting. On one hand, he understood why she was being quiet: the guards were used to his voice, not hers. On the other hand, it made him feel like he was talking to himself…

She took his arm again, and he hurried to explain, worrying the leather strap between his sore fingers instead of biting it this time. “The bed’s narrow, but if you…� He watched the red-tinged vodka trickle off his wrist, feeling his lips quirk in a small, embarrassed smile. “If you don’t mind the smell, you could just…sleep against the wall?� Skyler swathed the freshly cleaned wrist as well, snapping the manacle closed without really looking at it. The chain didn’t even clink.

“I-I’m tall enough,� Cael continued as she started on the last manacle sores, “that they can’t see past me, and the blanket’s usually lumpy between me and the wall anyways.� He cast a skittering glance at the door. The guard was still out of sight down the hall; he could just barely smell the acrid smoke of his pipe. “They don’t…don’t usually check my cell.�

[skyler manfield]

Impressed by his ability to endure the inferno that she was certain his wrists had become thanks to the vodka’s cleansing power, Skyler thankfully was able to finish with a bit more speed than she’d anticipated, neatly tying off the last bandage and clicking the manacle into place to hide the whiteness of the linen. She only hoped the guards would not notice the smell of lavender, aloe, and willow bark.

For a moment she considered his solution for her sleeping place - she would certainly need it soon. Her eyes burned with the need for sleep and the smoke from the guttering torch on the wall outside the cell. The guards would be changing shifts again soon and she had to be hidden before they did whether sleeping or awake. Pondering his idea, she looked around the cell as if searching for another option. The cold stone walls continued to a colder stone floor, which was undoubtedly covered in blood, vomit, urine, feces, and who knew what else - not that one could see exactly what rot might cover the surface in the flickering torchlight.

Finally, the assassin answered with a decisive nod, her grey eyes finally resting on Cael’s battered face, meeting icy blue eyes with a grim smile. She was here to save him, but if she was to do so, he’d have to protect her for a few days here and there. It was irony, and it was all too familiar.

“I’d be most obliged to sleep under your watchful eye,� she said by way of thanks, “And as far as the smell, I think I’ll live. I did grow up in a brothel after all, and then in the Underground of Radasanth. And I’ve been here before too. So long as I can sleep safely, I’m not one to complain.�

She considered his face, reading his expression - the way Hawk had taught her during her years of training under his tutelage. Each minute movement of the face, each tic of the jaw or blink or glance was a revelation into someone’s thoughts, almost as good as reading them directly. Skyler was nowhere near as good as her mentor was, but good enough to see something akin to discomfort on Cael’s face. Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to discern just what could be going on behind those blue eyes, but she just wasn’t sure why he seemed almost… embarrassed? Whatever it was, she was sure over the next few days she would have the chance to see it again, and figured by the time they left, she’d know just what every expression meant. For tonight she’d blame her inability to read him on fatigue and darkness.

“The shift will change again soon,� she warned him softly, “We should probably start arranging ourselves now if we don’t want them to see me. Besides, I’m pure tuckered out and could sure use a good rest. Don’t think I’d even notice your smell at the moment I’m so tired.�

Quickly she packed all her things back into her bag, before gracefully moving behind him, and pulling her body along the backside of the cot against the wall. As she lay down on her side, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it over herself carefully, tucking the bag behind her knees closest to the wall. With an expectant smile, she propped her head in her hand, elbow braced against the cot.

“C’mon then, I can hear them moving around out in the stairwell, and I’d rather not try to get us both out of here looking like you,� she winked, trying to make sure he knew she was joking with him, “You don’t have to sleep, I just need you to make sure they don’t see me.�

Calmly, she curled her arm under her head and pulled the blanket up to cover her face. It smelled dusty and a bit like unwashed body, but she just made sure not to breathe through her nose and it wouldn’t bother her anymore than it had growing up.

“G’night…� she whispered her body relaxing into sleep almost against her will and her breathing becoming slow and steady. Her last thought as she fell into an exhausted sleep was that she hoped she could trust this stranger to keep her safe while she slept.

[Inkfinger]

She trusted him.

There was a girl in his bed, and she trusted him. Cael watched, bemused, as Skyler lay down and pulled the blanket over her head. It had been his suggestion, yes, but he’d not quite been prepared for the strange feelings her actually following that suggestion awoke: a strange mixture of guilt, fear, pride and nostalgia.

The last time he’d had a woman in his bed had been nearly four years ago, and that had been (like now) a matter of necessity: share a bed, or freeze to death. He saw nothing wrong with sharing a bed in need, so long as all parties kept their hands to themselves. It was easier said than done for some people, perhaps, but not, usually, for Cael.

But those thoughts trod a little too close to those other thoughts clamoring for his attention, and he shied away from them as he would from a hot coal, watching the flicker of the torch in the hall. The orange-yellow flame made the guard’s shadow seem to engulf half the passageway. His shadow danced, hulking, malevolent, and just waiting for Cael to make a mistake.

She’s trusting me.

The thought caused more pain that he could have thought he’d feel at this point. The last person to trust him had been hanged for his stupidity. Cael had seen him over and over again in his nightmares the first few weeks after his execution, after ReznÃ*k had been appointed to his interrogation – even after the nightmares he had while awake became worse than those while asleep.

But… he thought, slowly, staring at his hands, maybe my luck is finally changing.

He barely recognized his hands as his own anymore. The layers of ink and callused skin were now covered with a layer of grime and filth, one thumbnail gone and that ugly, hateful brand covering the back of the other hand. It panged, once, as if Cael noticing it had given it permission to hurt again; but it was such a small pain that it barely even registered.

It would be nice to think my luck is changing, anyways.

Now that he’d had conversation, now that he’d actually seen someone civilized, and kind and (his mind added) quite pretty, he nearly felt couldn’t sit still and be silent any longer. He wanted to run, slip free from his chains and all out charge down the hall, towards the clarion call of the portal. He’d barely paid any mind to the tiny tugging these last few months, but now…now with a way out of the cell in sight, the call was more like a demand: I’m right here, you idiot, get to me and you’re home free.

…even magic transportation had an attitude in his head. He sighed, shifting on the cot, gaze flickering back to the lumpy, wrinkled pile of blanket. Wouldn’t mind having more food…but the last thing I want to do is throw up. The broth and bread had taken the edge off the daggers slicing at his gut, and that would have to do for now. Besides that, it was all packed away, and if he tried to get at it, he might wake the girl - and she needed to be well rested for their escape.

And so do I, he slowly realized, when he realized he’d been sitting for at least five minutes, simply watching the minuscule rise and fall of the blanket. He could hear voices out in the hall now, past the ringing in his ear, and see the shadows shifting; changing… Exhaustion would spoil things just as easily as sickness, he thought, slowly laying down, trying his best to make it look like it did day in and day out, and not as if he was trying to hide something. And so would getting caught.

The guards didn’t pay one moment’s attention into the dark cell; there was some debate going about tobacco, and pipes, and Cael thanked whoever it was out there that he had these guards right now, instead of any of those who would be quicker to notice things out of place. He curled up, finally, beneath the blanket; inches from Skyler, back to back.

Months of this place left him able to tell when people shifted and changed outside, even in slumber; but right now, with Skyler there, it would be hours before he let himself relax enough to sleep. He needed to watch, needed to stand guard, needed to protect…

For all the good I’d do at that.

[skyler manfield]

Skyler had always slept alone, and until she was eleven, rarely did she have a bed to call her own. A corner in the kitchen with a ragged blanket , or behind a dresser, under a table, in a closet. Wherever she could fall asleep for a few hours without being under foot, because if she were in the way they’d sure make her pay. Falling asleep with this on her mind wasn’t necessarily a good idea, and she dreamed of her first “home�. It wasn’t much of a home.

She’d grown up in a brothel, child of one of the whores, although she never was quite sure which one and none were brave enough to claim her. As a baby they’d taken turns caring for her, although she’d sometimes gone for days in the same old cloth diaper, and cried for hours with hunger. Fortunately she didn’t remember any of those times. What she did remember was later.

A thin arm slipped across Cael’s waist, and she pressed her body closer to his without being aware of it, her nightmares filling every piece of her conscious mind. They were violent and took her back to her childhood, a time she preferred to forget.

The first time she remembered making the mistake of being seen by one of the clients, Skyler was four years old. A tiny child, lanky and thin as a reed, her dark hair had always been cut short to keep the fleas and lice from gathering there - it was at least the one consideration they had made for her, considering none of them really had the time or energy to brush her thick mousy hair every night. Her feet were always bare even in winter, and she was usually dressed in a filthy shift that never seemed to cover enough to keep her warm. Skyler shivered in her sleep, as if she were there that winter when it seemed to snow a foot a day in Radasanth.

She’d been about to starve, nobody had remembered to feed her, and the madam had warned her not to leave the tiny room she’d been shoved into for the day (maybe it was actually a closet, it did have several brooms and a bucket that crowded the small space). But her stomach hurt so bad and she knew there had to be a heel of bread in the kitchen. So Skyler, shivering and hungry, crept out of the closet and ran down the steps toward her destination - and ran smack into one of the customers.

Horrified, she simply froze, large grey eyes staring up at the man who stood there staring back as if a snake were slithering right up his leg. It was a miracle she didn’t pee on herself, but possibly she was too frightened even for that. With a disdainful snort, the man snatched her up by the arm and dragged her to the “parlor�, a small room where the patrons could view the “merchandise�, and it was there that Skyler learned the consequences of being visible.

The assassin flinched in her sleep, literally clinging to Cael as if he were a single board in a storm-tossed sea, whimpering as her mind forced her through the memory of the ruthless beating she received for being seen by one of the customers. She had pissed herself then, the chair leg had splintered against her arm as she held it up to block her face, and left a long sliver of wood under her skin, and when one of the whores (probably her mother, with Skyler’s luck) kicked her in the ribs, the little girl had screamed as they cracked. When they had finally stopped, she dragged her bruised and broken little body into the closet she should never have left, and stayed there. At least she’d forgotten she was hungry.

With a start, Skyler awoke, her fist clenching the front of Cael’s shirt, her arm pulling him to her. She thought about letting go, but something wouldn’t let her, so she just leaned her forehead against his back and pretended to herself that there weren’t hot tears streaking down her face. It had been a miracle she’d healed from that ordeal, but somehow she had, and as far as she knew it was that experience which had turned on her strange ability.

Afraid to go back to sleep, she lay there for a moment listening before carefully uncovering and sitting up just enough to look out into the orangey dimness just outside the cell. The torch was recently replaced, flickering fitfully above the guard who was snoring quietly, slumped against the wall. She wasn’t quite sure if Cael was asleep, but she figured it was safe to sit up and lean against the cold wall. With a sigh, she pressed her body into the bricks, as though anchoring herself back to the cold reality of the life she now lived. Even being an assassin, attempting to break someone she didn’t even know or care about out of a prison that she might never leave with her skin in tact, her life was infinitely better than before.

“You awake, Cael?� she said in a low voice, praying he’d say yes and she’d have someone to distract her from the nightmares that seemed to play on the backs of her eyelids every time she blinked.

[Inkfinger]

Cael hadn’t been, really; he'd drifted to something like half asleep, watching the torch's flames flare and subside as regular as breathing. Each flicker of that light meant that doors were opening and closing somewhere; somewhere, someone was getting out.

...or, he had to admit, coming in, but getting out is a far more encouraging thought. We'll go with getting out. His mind tried to dance to the thought of Kamen twitching and gasping on the gallows, and the soldiers laughing... He shook the thought off, desperately, before it could catch a true foothold. Not their way, either.

He was watching the flame, aware but not truly awake until she’d hugged him – if it could be called hugging. She’d clung to him, like a small child going through night terrors; clung, and shook, and cried. And he had lain there, staring at the shadows the torch sent dancing on the walls through half-hooded eyes, and let her.

Sometimes, the body just needed to cry, and the mind just needed to let it, and no amount of comfort would make the tears cease. Sometimes, all you could do was let them fall, and mop up the mess when you were done. This cell had seen a lot of tears in the last few months. Up until now, they’d been his and his alone – he didn’t really think this was an improvement.

The trembling against him slowed, and stopped, and then he could feel her moving. He stayed still, leaving her time to collect herself. While it might be needed, crying like that was no less embarrassing. He simply listened to her breathe until she finally spoke.

“’m awake,� he mumbled back after a second, still laying down, still facing away. She’d moved her arm now, and he missed the warmth, but he wasn’t about to ask for it back. Her touches earlier had been enough to drag him from his doze, frantic, half-blocked memories shoved to the forefront even by her innocent motions.

Gods. The first thing I’m going to do once I get out is burn everything I’m wearing.

“Are y' alright?� He finally continued, voice soft out of habit, though he could see through the bars that the guard was asleep. Asleep, and probably drooling as well. There didn’t seem to be much of a middle ground in the guards they shoved down here: there were either those who were as dull as rocks (like the fellow out there now), or those who were sharp as knives (like Reznik himself).

That might work to their advantage, so long as the guard woke up before the next time Reznik came. If he didn’t, the captain would probably reassign him, and replace him with someone more intelligent. Cael winced for even thinking that. Not at all helpful.

“I mean,� he hurried to clarify, suddenly aware of the awkward silence he’d let fall, “Y' seemed…� What did she seem? How should I put this? Terrified? Lost? Sad? None of the words seemed appropriate for his would-be rescuer, so he shrugged, rolling over on his back to blink up at her. She looked so very young. He fought the urge to ask her how old she was as he finished. “Y' seemed like y' weren’t...weren't sleeping well.�

That was the easy way out, the sanitized version. She hadn’t seemed like she simply wasn’t sleeping well, she’d seemed like she was scared half to death by the insides of her own eyelids. But they didn’t know each other well enough for him to just blurt that out; and for all he knew, she might take offense at the suggestion.

She, however, just stared. Cael sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes in a jangle of chains that rang loud in the silence. He sat up, hurriedly, scrambling to sit next to Skyler, leaning on the wall. The guard woke with a snort, blinking blearily at the cell. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Cael, but Cael held the stare –

-for all of a moment before the guard smirked, licking his lips. Cael’s defiance shriveled against red-hot embarrassment, and he looked away, hearing the guard’s mocking chuckle echo in the hall. He risked a quick glance – and smirked. The guard was already leaning against the wall again, arms crossed, eyes closed. He hadn’t noticed – and that had been the point.

“It seemed,� he finally muttered, looking back at Skyler, “like y’ were havin’ a nightmare?� She nodded, the expression on her face unreadable. But it wasn’t anger, at least not open anger, and Cael rambled on. “I have nightmares, a lot now…nothin’ like wakin’ up with some old d-dead friend starin’ d-� No, see, that was what you decided not to think about, remember?

He changed the subject as quickly as he could.

“People, I mean, there are people who study dreams, an’ they say they’re usually things we’re worried about durin’ the day shovin’ they’re way t’ the front of our brains while we can’t stop our brains…uh.� Every story he’d ever encountered about dreams –and there were quite a few; much of his scribe-training had come from handcopying texts from down-on-their-luck scientists, magicians and other speculators- seemed intent on shoving its way out of his mouth. “Can’t stop our brains from focusin’ on them. Did you know that dreamin’ about cyclones - � he paused there, casting a look at Skyler. “-you do know what a cyclone is? Big ol’ windstorm, looks like water goin' down a drain?" She nodded again, and he continued with barely a breath.

"They say dreamin’ about them means you’re overly worried about somethin’, and…and tigers – those big cats they have in Akashi-how-ever-you-say it- mean you’re goin’ to be ‘beset by enemies,’ which I think is just bullshit or I’d’ve been dreamin’ about bloody great pussycats for a bloody year before I fu-�

And that, children, the unkind voice in his head said, in a tone that sounded like a grin felt, is what we call rambling. Cael felt the embarrassment shift to a completely different spectrum of discomfort: the kind he’s always used to feel when trying (and, usually, failing) to impress the village girls.

“I. Uh.� He trailed off, stammering, suddenly aware of just how fast he’d been speaking. “I a-assume you’ve not been dreamin’ about kitties. Kitties don’t make pretty girls cry…� Oh, gods, that is without a doubt the stupidest thing you’ve said thus far. “So what’re your nightmares, Skyler?�

No, strike that. You just outdid yourself.

[skyler manfield]

“Sorry if I woke you,� she mumbled, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. His voice was slurred like he’d been on the edge of sleep, dozing in the silence of the prison. And who could blame him - what else was there to do to fill the hours?

Perhaps he’d been close enough to sleeping, deep enough in his own dream world, that he hadn’t noticed her arm around him, or her fitful reaction to her own tormented nightmares. Nobody else ever seemed to, their own world being more than enough to occupy their attentions.

“Are y’ alright?� he asked quietly, his voice hoarse. Okay, so maybe he had noticed. Skyler sighed, and took a mental inventory of herself. She was still in one piece, and she was now awake, the fear of the four year old little girl curled up in the corner of a closet in pain now faded to the back of her mind instead of seared into her every thought.

“It seemed like y’ weren’t sleeping well,� the words almost made her laugh. No she hadn’t slept well at all - rarely did in fact. She hadn’t slept a full night in years, and on occasion it had been the only thing that saved her hide. There was no polite way to respond to his observation, which was so glaringly obvious. Grey eyes simply watched him, as though he would pull a bouquet of flowers from his sleeve or some other trick, since he could obviously read minds so well.

Instead he began rambling. Her eyebrows raised, and the assassin tilted her head like a confused puppy as she listened to his ideas on nightmares and dreams, the subconscious and symbolism. Quite a bit of what he preached was well beyond her scope of understanding - while she was by no means stupid, education hadn’t really been the focus of Skyler’s rather difficult life. Survival had been at the top of her list and learning somewhere near the bottom if she had an extra moment or it might help her to live another few days.

“Kitties don’t make pretty girls cry,� he said rather vaguely, and Skyler frowned. Perhaps she had tuned him out. Why had he referred to her as a pretty girl? Glancing down at her rather grimy clothes (nowhere near as nasty as his, but the trek through the prison hadn’t done them much good), and back up at him, Skyler wondered just how long he’d been in the prison after all. Did he not know a plain jane when he saw one? It had been made very clear to Skyler that she was not a “pretty� girl by any stretch of the imagination. Her legs were too long, her eyes were too big for her face, her nose turned upwards a bit at the end, her lips were very thin and her mouth quite wide, and her hair was a non-descript mousy brown that was neither straight nor curly.

“So what’re yer nightmares, Skyler?�

What in the world would make anyone ask her what her nightmares were? Nobody in the world had ever given a half a damn what she dreamed about or feared. Not Hawk, not her mother, not Deacon. Not even Malagen who she’d shared a bed with for a night or two and had escaped this same prison with. It had never mattered enough for anyone to notice her restless sleep, much less wonder why she was so disturbed by what hid in her subconscious. This man truly was a strange one. He really must be very lonely.

“Oh, they’re just about my childhood,� she shrugged, brushing off the question. She figured that just like when someone asked how you were doing, or how your day was, he didn’t REALLY care what her nightmares were about, he must just be asking out of politeness. And even if he was asking out of curiosity, she could guarantee he wouldn’t want to hear the details of what haunted her sleep if he knew what ghosties lurked there.

“Your childhood?� he was obviously incredulous, his face twisted into a smirk, “It seems unlikely your childhood is what had y’ crying out in yer sleep and clinging to me like a wee babe.�

For Skyler this was like a challenge.

“If you’d had my childhood, you would say differently,� she growled at him, her eyes narrowing as if threatened and expecting an attack. He didn’t speak, only held her gaze as though not believing her or waiting for her to continue or explain. Well, she was one foot in already, might as well dive in all the way now. Nothing to lose if he was horrified by her nightmares, after all he wasn’t her friend, just a job, right?

“I grew up in a brothel - my mother was a whore, although she didn’t think it was worth it to claim me,� she began quietly, looking out at the guard for a moment as he snorted back into sleep, before continuing.

“My earliest memory is when I was four. I got seen by one of the men, and he took me to the lady that ran the place. That was the one rule - I couldn’t be seen. I had to stay out of the way - that day it was a closet she put me in. But I was hungry so I snuck out and he found me,� she shuddered as she remembered, wishing she could stop. It was like putting into words what had happened to her, made it more real. She wished it was just some crazy nightmare and nothing more. Her stomach turned and she looked away from him, no longer able to make eye contact.

“Let’s just say,� she decided it would be easier to summarize, and he probably wouldn’t care, “That I learned really quick why it was better to go hungry. I got the shit beat out of me, or rather the fear beat into me. I think that’s when I developed my little… ability.�

Skyler kept her head down, eyes averted. She worried he would scoff at her, either disbelieving what she said, or at the very least unsympathetic of her experience. She wished she hadn’t said anything, just lied and told him she’d dreamed about tigers or cyclones. It would have shut him up.

[Inkfinger]

Cael never would have pushed anywhere else; under any other circumstances, he'd have never prodded her into talking. He should have known it would be something like that, something unfair and tragic. But here…he’d been too quiet too long. It’d been like the floodgates opening; a conversation for the first time in a very long time, he’d just…he hadn’t been thinking.

And that’s no excuse, he scolded himself, drawing his legs up in another chime of metal to sit with them crossed beneath the blanket. It was still rude. They sat in silence before he finally reached out and curled a sore arm around the assassin’s narrow shoulders, his other hand touching her chin, gently turning her face so she’d at least look at him, stunned by his own daring.

“There’s no excuse for tha’ one,� he said, softly, but his voice was stern; his spoken words mirrored his thoughts, directed towards the demons of her past instead of at his own speaking faux pas. “It doesn’t matter who y’mum was, or what she did, she shouldn’t ‘ave been able t’get away with that…� he trailed off, again picking his words carefully. The expression in her stormy eyes was somewhere between stunned, angry, and some…some emotion he couldn’t quite read. He let go of her chin, reminded of the grime that covered his fingertips.

“But…Skyler…’s the past. The past can’t hurt you now, hurt either of us now. ‘s over an’ done with, s’ we need to be over an’ done with it.� He shook his head, and sighed again. “…Sway knows I need to follow my own damn advice.� It was hard, trying not to think of his family, his nieces and nephews, growing up in Skyler’s place. “…funny how it seems the people who really need the punishin’ aren’t ever the ones to get it...� Instead it was little girls getting beaten, innocent people strung up just for trying to survive… if it was funny, it was funny in a way that made his heart hurt.

I suppose that means its not very funny after all.

He could just hear the torch crackling through the constant muted whistling of his bad ear; the pitch used as fuel popping loudly in the still air. They’d changed it while he’d dozed, again - he must have been asleep longer than he’d thought. Brilliant. You sleep, they find her in the cell, and you don’t even get a half-hour death. They’ll find some way to make dying take days, and it won’t be just you. That slow realization stretched the days between now and escape to almost endless: either he had to give up the conversation, or the sleep. He couldn’t have both if they wanted to survive.

“I think,� he muttered, hoarse and desperate to change the subject, “I would just about kill for a cup of coffee right now.� He bit back a short laugh, nudging his forehead against Skyler’s shoulder before sitting back upright with an audible crack of stiff muscles. “I hadn’t even thought about coffee ‘til you got here. You’re a bad influence.� His arm across her shoulders had started merely as comfort, but she was warm, so he left it there, still leaned against the wall.

“I should have been a fisherman. This never would have happened if I’d just…followed the family business.� Or if they had all followed the family business, anyways. Somehow, he got the feeling Ludvik would have dragged him into this even if he was a mere fish monger. But family business was probably not a term his would-be rescuer would appreciate. He looked sideways at Skyler, giving a small shrug that could, technically, been seen as apologetic.

“So. Your-� absolute bitch of a mother, his mind filled in the gaps, but thirty-two years of manners kept him from saying most of it out loud, “childhood helped you…become unseen? Mine…helped me become a rumor spreading malcontent with a habit of angering the wrong people. I have to say, I think yours worked out a tiny bit better than mine. At least you are somewhat useful.�

[skyler manfield]

“Somewhat useful?” she snorted, “Yeah, I’m so very useful. I get paid to off people who happen to be inconvenient. I kill people like you, who spread rumors, or worse, truths that people don‘t want their friends and enemies to know about.”

The assassin lifted her fingers to her chin, lightly touching the place where his hand had touched her face. It had been nonchalant, meaningless to him, probably something his mother had done when he was a child to make him look at her when he was feeling down. It had left Skyler’s heart beating a little faster than before, and she worried the guard would wake up to the sound of it pounding it seemed so loud.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been sent on a recovery mission,” she admitted, finally relaxing against his side. She’d stiffened when his arm had first gone around her narrow shoulders, but it felt almost as if it belonged there now, like it was fit to lay there.

“I’m not sure what I’d be doing if Hawk hadn’t discovered me,” she mused quietly, “Deacon had no idea about my… gift… when he bought me. I was just an errand-girl, running barefoot all over Radasanth taking messages back and forth. I used to sneak into the council room and listen to the meetings of the Thirteen - Hawk was their head at the time - the Radasanth Crime Syndicate wasn’t that terrible at the time, just a necessary evil in such a big city. I fell asleep in there one night, and Hawk found me. He decided to teach me his craft, and I started training to be an assassin when I was eleven.”

She’d been rambling, and when she looked over at Cael, his eyes were closed. He was obviously exhausted, and now that he had a chance of escape, his wounds were dressed, and his stomach had real food in it, he could finally rest a bit more easily. Of course, he’d stayed awake while Skyler slept, just in case. It was his turn to sleep now, and his slow steady breathing proved that he’d finally given in to this need.

Carefully, she pulled the blanket up over the two of them. Rather than try to ease away from him, or wake him enough to lay down, she simply shifted so that his head rested against her shoulder, and got comfortable. The way he rested, it would simply appear to any guard that happened to glance into the cell that he was simply leaning against the wall, his head lolling to one side. They shouldn’t be able to see that he laid his head against anyone or anything, and the blanket should just look wrinkled rather than hiding anyone under it other than their prisoner. With only a small amount of effort, she pushed herself even further into her talent, ensuring that no one who wasn’t looking for her would see her there.

It was lucky that Skyler had chosen to err on the side of caution, rather than waiting until she heard something to disappear into the shadows of the cell. She had probably been sitting there for four or five hours, through one changing of the guard, simply reviewing the way she’d entered the prison, and how she planned to get them out, when suddenly one of the guards came sweeping into the cell. He was obviously higher ranked than the other guards that watched Cael’s cell, his uniform freshly pressed and the ornamentation he wore more elaborate. The smirk on his face was a warning for Skyler, and she nudged Cael into wakefulness, hoping to the gods he wouldn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Wakey, wakey…” the guard purred in a sinister voice, standing menacingly in the doorway of the cell. Skyler couldn’t have slipped out of the cell now, even if she’d wanted to. She suppressed a shudder as his eyes crossed over Cael, and seemed to rest on her for a long moment. Surely he couldn’t see her there. They were both dead, very painfully so, if he knew she was there.

[Inkfinger]

Cael awoke from the first dreamless sleep he’d had in days when something nudged him – gentle but insistent – in the ribs. His eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright with a hoarse yelp. The blanket slipped from his shoulder – he almost looked beneath it, almost spoke, almost asked Skyler what she thought she was doing - before the silhouette in the cell’s door registered in his sleep-fogged brain. He let go of the blanket abruptly, swallowing hard.

ReznÃ*k.

The fog disappeared in a flash, cobwebs in an inferno, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and throat and ears. It hadn’t been a week. It hadn’t. Time might not seem to move normal in here, with no real point of reference, but there was no way his time could be up already.

…was there? He clenched his fists beneath the blanket, trying to breathe.

The captain just grinned. “Good morning, sunshine.� He took a step further in, leaning against the bars lazily. His teeth flashed, the only thing truly visible in the shadow of his face. “How’s life?�

Cael shook his head, trying to stem the fierce shiver that jolted through his bones, chilling him to his core. Skyler was leaning against him; she could probably already feel his heartbeat…he knew he could feel hers, small, delicate and fast in counterpoint to his, fluttering against his ribs. It made him feel…strange. Protective and warm and twice-fold terrified, all rolled into one.

“You know as well as I do,â€� he said softly, fighting to keep his voice calm, “I don’t have much of one anymore.â€� Thanks to you was left unspoken, but he had no doubt that ReznÃ*k heard it anyways. He always seemed to pick up on the things that Cael didn’t wish for him to hear.

“Nope, not really,� the captain returned, shifting against the bars. The torch’s flame hit a pocket of pitch, flaring higher; the golden glow caught in his eyes, turned them into a predator’s hungry stare. “And in a couple of days, you won’t even have that anymore.�

I know that, Cael thought, another tremor passing through him. So why are you here, now?

“I had the idea that maybe they ought to let me at you before then…â€� ReznÃ*k went on, taking a step away from the bars. There was an unhealthy tone in his voice that made Cael grind his teeth together, knowing right then where this was going. He couldn’t sit here. No matter what happened, he couldn’t. It was too close.

He patted Skyler’s knee under the blanket, then slipped out from beneath it, being careful to keep it bunched up and wrinkled, praying she’d understand. “You know how I feel about audiences," Reznik continued, "And…well. It’d be a deterrent, I think. More of a deterrent than just chopping you…� He sounded frustrated, and his words were slurring together, carelessly. “The Clergy didn’t agree.�

For once those pompous jackasses make a decision that doesn’t make them even larger hypocrites…amazing. Cael sidled as far from ReznÃ*k as his chains would allow, though he knew in the long run it wasn’t going to do a single bit of good.

ReznÃ*k’s next words came in a low purr. “At least, not to that idea…â€� He took another step closer, his shoulders blocking most of the torch’s light. Cael bit back the urge to whimper.

He can’t kill you. He’s not allowed. And whatever happens, it’s not anything you’ve not been through before. You can handle this. The thoughts didn’t help.

“I get your sorry ass tonight instead. Right now.� He stomped his foot down, hard, pinning the chain around Cael’s ankle to the floor. Cael fought down another whine, this time at the pain flaring beneath the bandage. “Don’t complain, and we’ll get this over with.�

Why? Why did it have to be now? Cael glanced past ReznÃ*k, squinting through the bars. There were others there, moving in the shadows. Of course. Couldn’t run the risk of me getting out, somehow, with him like… He shuddered, trying one last time to take one last step away. The chain jangled beneath ReznÃ*k’s heavy boot, but didn’t give an inch. He stopped pulling before he reopened his ankle's wounds and stood as still as he could, his legs quaking.

“N-n-n…� He had to stop and take a deep breath before he managed to finish the simple sentence, praying that giving in would be enough, “N-not the bed.�

ReznÃ*k cast a disdainful glance at the ramshackle door-turned-cot, and seemed to dismiss that as an acceptable surrender without a second thought. “I got splinters last time, anyways.â€�

So did I, Cael thought dully, trying (and not succeeding, not entirely) not to look at anything but the floor, but I didn’t whine…

He’d had other things to worry about.

ReznÃ*k lunged; catching Cael off guard, twisting him around and shoving him face-first into the wall so hard that his forehead smacked stone audibly. The blow left his vision swimming and spinning around the edges, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He felt hands tugging at the remains of his clothes, felt ruined fabric fall from his shoulders, and still he only thought.

You’ll get out of this.

His eyes flickered closed when ReznÃ*k’s lips brushed his cheek. He bit down on his lip, harder than he had done to silence himself, hard enough to draw blood, and forced himself to imagine the lips gentler; as if, maybe, he pretended they were softer, pretended they were…

Well, her lips, maybe…maybe it would help ease the horror, siphon away some of the shame? He almost felt that it would; at the very least it would distract him, but no matter how he looked at it, it still felt like a betrayal.

I’m sorry, Skyler.

…the same with the hands trailing down his now bare (gods, how had that happened? When had that happened?) sides, brushing across his thigh to…

Do.not.think.

It was easier thought than done, with the captain’s full weight pressing him against cold stone, his hands and lips hellishly hot where they danced, where they touched and pinned, fingering the scars that ReznÃ*k himself had spread over his chest, his back, his sides. He tried to imagine the hands slender and quick and gentle, tried to imagine the body against his softer –

The fantasy dissolved in a flash of rough hands and bad breath. ReznÃ*k chuckled in his ear when he made an abortive attempt to writhe away from the invasive fingers; chuckled and bit there too.

“You should have said yes, Cael,â€� he purred when he let go, nuzzling the side of Cael’s neck. Cael felt a shudder that he didn’t even bother to hide lance down his back, followed by ReznÃ*k’s hand, lightning quick along the narrow gutter of his spine. It came to a rest on his hip, fingers tight against his hipbone. “I would have made a good master.â€�

Except now I’ve got Skyler, and I don’t have to die or be your slave… Cael thought, ignoring ReznÃ*k’s hand brushing up his arm, tracing over the sides of his neck, playing with the fine hairs at the base of his skull. I don’t have to…

ReznÃ*k’s voice went hard, abruptly, the hand sliding into his hair and tightening. “On your knees.â€�

Cael flinched, feeling the words vibrate through every sinew of his body. ReznÃ*k couldn’t…he’d just…damn it to all nine hells.

Please don’t try anything, Skyler. Please. It’s better than dying.

“ReznÃ*k… Lev… please.â€�

The hand in his hair yanked him down, shoved him on all fours in a jangle of chains that nearly drowned out his yelp of pain; the captain traced his hand down his jaw and beneath his chin, pulling his head back. His body had lost the coolness of the wall already, and now, with someone else’s fingers mapping his skin, it felt like he was on fire.

Please, please don’t hold this against me.

“The last time you called me Lev,� the captain snarled, the grip in his hair tightening, “You used me, remember? Stole my keys, ran away through that damn portal?� Almost got me removed from my position, could have got me executed - hidden messages practically dripped from the way he said the words.

Cael managed a strangled squawk of protest. “I used you?� The irony was enough to steal his breath away. “I think you’ve got that-� The rest of the sentence choked off when he remembered what he was doing, what they had planned. Anything, even this, was worth it if he got away. If they got away. His mouth snapped shut and he bowed his head, meekly, swallowing his reply past the lump in his throat.

ReznÃ*k let out a long sigh, tugging Cael’s hair back away from his face almost gently. “Good choice, Ricci,â€� he breathed, voice fond, like a father to his child. The tenderness sent a spike of revulsion through Cael’s stomach, stung frustrated tears to his eyes, but he blinked them away angrily. “Good choice.â€� He let go of Cael’s hair, sliding his hand, instead, over Cael’s mouth. The faint sounds of creaking leather and chiming steel, followed by the sounds of denim and linen shifting, painted an ugly picture in Cael’s mind; an explanation to why ReznÃ*k needed his other hand. He felt fever-hot skin against his own, the full length of his back, and ReznÃ*k whispered in his ear.

“At least try not to scream this time.�

Cael drew a shuddering breath against Reznik's sweaty palm, closed his eyes tightly, and obeyed.

You know how they say you can get used to anything?

They lie.


*

He crawled back to the cot what felt like hours later, after ReznÃ*k left; sore, humiliated and sick to his stomach. His limbs shook. He’d pulled what was left of his clothes – every time the captain came, the rags were less and less – on, and they clung to him, sticky with sweat. He’d thrown up, too, and the foul, sour taste still clung to the inside of his mouth.

There was warmth beneath the woolen blanket, and the promise of escape, and something that seemed safe, and good, and pure, despite what she might have claimed. He couldn’t seem to make himself move closer, so he curled on the edge of the cot instead, knees drawn almost to his chest, quivering from head to toe.

“S-so,â€� he stammered, quietly, his voice quavering as badly as his body, “Th-that's R-ReznÃ*k, he’s, uh. He’s the captain. He’s m-married, got four ch-children, but his wife…he. He hit one of the kids, and sh-she left him.â€�

Some men like to talk too much. ReznÃ*k was one such man. Every time he had come to Cael’s cell, Cael had learned something new: that the captain liked blondes, that his wife’s name was Cynthia, that he’d never forgotten an errand, a birthday, an anniversary. Sometimes, he said these things when he should have been otherwise occupied, hands painfully tight on Cael's shoulder. Other times, he waited until he was satiated, his breath warm and soft on the back of Cael’s neck as he spoke, gently, almost wistfully, about what he feared he was missing now.

Cael was never sure which, exactly, was worse. He only knew he did not want to think about it right now. He was supposed to be distracting himself, not dwelling on it.

“H-he’s a v-very frustrated man,â€� he found himself saying, voice low, “And fr-frustration works itself out in a v-variety of ways, an'...â€� He couldn’t look at her, or towards her, right now. Not with the dried tear-tracks and ReznÃ*k's taunting kiss still on his lips. "An' I d-don't even know what the hells I'm sayin' anymore."

At least the guards were back at their posts now.

See? There’s always a bright side, if you look hard enough.

[skyler manfield]

Skyler held her breath. When she could no longer go without air, she breathed as silently as she could. If the guard sensed anything was amiss, it wouldn’t matter how gifted she was, he would be able to see her. Fortunately for her - not so fortunately for Cael - the man was more interested in his prisoner. His voice was greasy, cunning, and his smile left her chilled. He watched Cael like the poor man was his prey or his possession, rather than his prisoner.

As the man attempted to banter with Cael, baiting him with spiteful words, Skyler tried to send a feeling of calm into Cael. Her friend (or the closest thing to one she’d ever had) was obviously frightened, physically shaken by this intruder. And as the sleazy officer delved into his reasons for being in the cell, Skyler quickly realized why Cael’s heart was about to beat out of his chest. He patted her knee and stood before she could grab his hand to reassure him. For the first time in her life, she was more worried about someone else, rather than saving her own skin.

The man was a deviant. And as he cunningly manipulated Cael, speaking around what he intended, but never quite revealing his exact plans, Skyler found her stomach tightening into a sickened knot. Deacon used to play these humiliating games with her, his words meant to be just as intrusive and perversely hurtful as his eventual touch.

What was worse, not only did Reznik have craven intentions for what he planned to do with Cael - he had an audience. He was one of those. Skyler suppressed a growl, her fists clenching at her sides as Cael gave in, begging only for one thing. How the hell could he think of her even in a moment like this? Reznik took Cael’s offer though, and before Skyler could blink, he had the prisoner against the wall, ragged clothes quickly being shoved out of the way.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she couldn’t move without being noticed - who knew what the repulsive freak would do to the two of them if he saw her. All she knew was that they were both guaranteed to die, very painfully so. She wished though that she could leave, not just seem to be invisible, but completely disappear into the earth and not have to be there unable to do anything while this man hurt Cael in such a way.

Closing her eyes wasn’t enough. She fought back the urge to vomit as she was forced to listen to the sound of Reznik’s muffled groans, her mind refusing to be distracted, but instead imagining exactly where his hands groped or his mouth wandered. What was worse, was when the guard spoke, his voice gruff with tension.

It was all she could do to keep herself seated on the cot, and she gripped the wooden edges until her fingernails were digging into the splintered side. What had happened before? What choice had Cael refused that could have been worse even than this?

Her eyes shot open as Reznik demanded Cael fall to his knees. How much more could he abuse this prisoner? How much more would he feel he must humiliate Cael before his twisted desires were satisfied? And when Cael begged for him to change his mind, this only seemed to infuriate the guard who shoved his victim violently to the ground. Skyler realized she was shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was anger or something worse.

She could just barely hear the words Reznik whispered into Cael’s ear, and tears stung her eyes at the familiar words. They flowed openly down her face as she watched, unable to force her eyes away. It was that moment the decision was made for her. This man would die. It would be the first time she would kill someone of her own volition, rather than for pay, since she was ten years old. But there was no doubt in her mind, no choice left to her, this perverted malcontent would not live out the week. Or if he did, he would wish he hadn’t.

It didn’t take long for the guard to finish, and he barely glanced at Cael as he resettled his own clothing and left the cell, leaving his victim on his knees and still shivering. As Cael returned to the cot, Skyler watched him, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears that stained her face. She was still afraid to move, the group still standing outside the cell for the moment, Reznik sniggering as they finally walked through the door, not even leaving a guard behind - it wasn’t as if Cael could leave.

Skyler listened as her friend tried to somehow justify what had happened, and it only infuriated her more. She had to breathe in deeply to maintain her calm and not storm out of the cell to go strangle Reznik until he turned blue.

“I’ll fucking kill him,� was all Skyler said as Cael stopped talking, his body curled as far away from her as he could be. She reached over to him, and pulled him over to her, almost dragging him so that his head rested in her lap. She knew he couldn’t possibly want to dwell on the subject anymore, “I know you can’t forget about it, but just know that I will kill him in the most painful way possible.�

It might have seemed like a strange promise, but she had never meant anything as much in her life. Leaving the subject behind, she gently began to stroke his hair, stopping only for a moment when he flinched away from her touch, but starting again hoping he would relax. She knew she couldn’t sing worth a damn, but for some reason it was all she could think of to do to help him forget.

The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speed from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world ...hmmm…hmmmmmm
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings ... hmmmmmm
"Sleep, little one, sleep."

The words had always frightened her a bit as a child, but the tune was soothing, in a minor key, and she had always calmed down easily when she heard it.

On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing...
Hmmmmm-hmmmm hear her sing:

Why couldn't the assassin remember who had sang to her? She shifted a little against the wall, her fingers gently threading through Cael's hair as she stared distractedly at the flickering torch. The voice she remembered had sang it much lower, and with a strange accent to it. It was as though the memory hid at the edges of her mind.

"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree ... hmmmm-hmmm-hmmmmm,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best,--
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
...hmmm-mmmmmm-mmmmmm
Sleep, little one, sleep.

She didn’t remember all the words, or even how she knew the song, but she felt Cael relax as she sang somewhat tunelessly, her fingers twisting through his pale hair. Her voice trembled a little as she sang, but she continued, hoping his experience would fade away more quickly if she did. She cradled him in her lap as though he were a child who had woken from a horrid nightmare, rather than a grown man who had just lived through one.

[Inkfinger]

Cael’s body was tense beneath the trembling, his mind a cacophony of clamoring, conflicting thoughts. He almost jerked away from Skyler’s hands as she pulled at him. His instincts screamed a myriad of emotions at him: he didn’t want touched, ever again; he didn’t deserve her touch; he was a filthy coward, nothing more than the whore the brand marked him as. She deserved a real man, a brave man - one who wouldn’t have just…lain down and let Rezník…

A real man wouldn’t have let Rezník screw him into the floor, you mean? That’s bull. You both would have died if you’d fought – or you would have, and he’d have her for his bed. Giving in didn’t make you a coward. And how do you think she felt? She had to watch.

The very idea made his skin crawl with shame. It wasn’t the first time Rezník had… had raped him – and even now, his mind shied away from the word, though he knew it fit; as if labeling what had happened would make it more real – or the first time he’d had others watch the deed, but…this was entirely different. Other guards were not a girl who might very well be a friend, who had grown up in a life too close to what his had become.

Don’t move away, Cael. She won’t hurt you.

In the end, he let her pull him over without resisting. She was warm, and she somehow wasn’t disgusted with him, and she was safe. He flinched violently, nevertheless, the moment her fingers carded into his hair, feeling the ghost of the captain’s violating touch on his skin. He forced himself to lie still, staring out the bars without really seeing anything out in the shadows. It was easier not to think, after all. Or to try not to think.

She saw. She knows. And she’s choosing to comfort you anyway.

Despite the thoughts running through his head too fast, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept to his lips when she began to sing. She certainly wasn’t a bard; she kept forgetting the words, and some of the notes, but the tune was mostly correct. It was an old song, very old, a traditional Salvic lullaby, translated carefully. Her voice wavered now and again, cracking on one high note here, barely audible at the volume she was singing out of necessity, but it was a clear, sweet voice.

I remember Grandmother singing this. The thoughts that came that time were warm ones, of sitting curled in the matron’s soft lap watching the summer storms roll off the sea, of the smell – herbs and spices and sweet baked bread, mixed with ozone and sea salt – and the sound of thunder echoing off the waves in counterpoint with her low, husky voice.

She was an odd, conflicting combination. The girl comforting him now seemed worlds apart from the one who had just sworn to commit a murder (no matter how deserving) for him, and yet they were – she was - the same person. His mind shimmied away from thinking about her promise, again. That spot was raw and sore right now, like the dull ache that spread through all his body or an open wound on the surface of his soul, and it didn’t want to be poked.

Leave well enough alone.

The tension was slowly ebbing from his body, the shudders and tremors fading as he finally felt himself beginning to relax, though nothing could completely wash the sick feeling from his belly. One hand slowly crept up to take her hand, clinging tighter than he meant to, almost as if he was drowning without realizing.

“I like that,” he finally spoke again when her words trailed off, his voice low, but not shaking like it had been. It took what felt like an unfair amount of energy to speak, and he kept his eyes closed. “My grandmother used to sing it to us children. I haven’t heard it in…oh. Probably close to twenty years now…”

Voicing that thought made him suddenly feel very old, especially when compared to Skyler. She still seemed so young, so very much like the girl she'd never probably had a chance to be. “Where did you learn it? I had never heard it in anything but Salvic…” He paused for a second, clearing his throat awkwardly, barely aware of the fingers laced through his own. “The words sound better your way.”

[skyler manfield]

Sometime during the lullaby, Cael had reached up and taken her hand, gripping it so tightly it almost hurt. She didn’t pull away though, he was clinging to the only comfort offered, and she knew that lifeline probably seemed as fine as spider silk and just as tentative at the moment. Instead, she placed her other hand over his, covering the ugly scarred brand on the back of his hand, as if hiding the horror of his experience, although she knew it was impossible to conceal the ugliness of what Reznik had done.

His eyes were closed, his voice smooth though hushed when he finally spoke. Somehow he had known the song - Skyler had no idea when she chose it, it was the only lullaby she knew, the most soothing tune she could think of. But he had heard it as a child - before she was even a squalling reminder of her mother’s negligence. She’d no idea it was a Salvic lullaby - none of the whores at the brothel had been Salvic, most had never even been out of Radasanth, much less Corone. That left only one person who could have sang it to her.

“Hawk,� she replied, more in response to her own thoughts than to Cael’s question, “He must have sang it to me when I was little. I suppose he translated it for me so I’d know the words. They used to scare me a little.�

Lifting her hand from the back of his, she absently traced the edges of his pale brows, then down over his eyelids - his skin was almost translucent, and the circles under his eyes were so dark it could have been from being hit, but it was more likely just poor nutrition and poor sleep. Her grey gaze surveyed his face, then flitted up to the wall next to the cot at the corner of the cell - there were tally marks scratched into the grime that coated the stone, and she grimaced at how many there were. He’d probably stopped long before now. One could only count so many days in the dark.

“It’s strange, because I never remembered that until now,� she admitted softly, bringing her mind back to his question - he wouldn’t want to talk about how long he’d been here, and she didn’t want to think of how many times Reznik had visited in the duration, “I’d never thought of Hawk that way before. He was never the lullabies and cuddles type. But now I wonder… he sang that song to me like… I was his child.�

The memory was more clear now, it was not long after he’d found her in the council room and taken her under his wing. She’d been a tough kid, not one for tears or tantrums. By that time she’d already killed two men, and Deacon had more than once partaken of what he felt was rightfully his. Perhaps it was after one of those nights, when she’d wandered back to her room like a ghost, and Hawk hadn’t been able to figure out why she wouldn’t speak to him. That part of the memory would likely always stay just out of reach. But she did remember him pulling her into his lap, much as she’d done with Cael, and singing to her. His voice had been much more melodic, deep and resonant, his native accent emerging as the words left his lips. He’d rubbed her back like the child she was, and Skyler had simply lain there, curled around herself in silence, absorbing the song as she tried to forget her own personal nightmares.

“You should eat again - if you can,� she recommended, changing the subject, “I know I need to.�

Without shifting him out of her lap, Skyler was able to reach the backpack and began pulling supplies out. Setting two apples, and the chunk of cheese on the cot beside her first, she then pulled the flask of whiskey from her pack as well. Her stomach rumbled loudly as if in response to the sight of food, however simple, and she looked down at Cael with a soft giggle, although she wasn’t sure why she thought it funny.

“I think your stomach could use some real food, and your mind could use some real drink,� she recommended as though it were her professional medical opinion, “The apples are perfect, and this cheese is sublime. Besides, they’ll go bad if we don’t eat them soon.�

With a tilt of her head and a twinkle in her eye, she dangled the flask in front of his face. Skyler was sure they both remembered what had happened the last time he drank from one of her flasks, and she was sure even he could see the humor in it now.

“Don’t choke on it this time, okay?�

[Inkfinger]

The more I hear about this Hawk, the more I want to meet him. Cael decided, drifting in and out of listening far more than he was used to. Skyler's hands were soothing as they stroked, feather-light, across his face. Whether or not the man had helped turn Skyler into an assassin, he had saved her from gods only knew what else. And he, somehow, knew Ludvik.

Who didn’t forget about me. The thought brought a rush of giddy, irrational relief that still filled him with guilt. His brother wasn’t disloyal. How could he have ever thought…

“-choke on it this time, okay?”

It took him a moment for him to realize her words and tone had changed, and another moment for his eyes to focus on the flask she waved before them, but when they did he managed a weak grin.

“Don’t think I’ve the strength t’ choke. It’d take too much effort.” He pushed himself upright nonetheless, hissing in a breath that threatened to turn into a whimper at the pain the simple movement sent lancing through him. He took the flask and knocked back a quick mouthful, carefully; letting the liquid sluice through his teeth.

He was expecting it this time; and this time it simply felt like a clean warmth sliding down the inside of his throat. He leaned back against the wall, rolling the flask’s cap between long, grimy fingers. He watched as Skyler pulled a small paring knife from somewhere in the depths of her pack. She sat efficiently carving one of the apples into smaller chunks, cutting most of the core in the process, dropping the seeds back in her bag.

Less waste that way…though I’d probably even eat the seeds right now… The whiskey had loosened his sinuses, some, but he could barely smell through the pressure in his nose. What he could smell, though, was enough to make his mouth water and his sore stomach rumble.

And about then she noticed him watching, raising one slender eyebrow.

“Alright, so you’ve proven you can drink alone…” She teased, but her light tone couldn’t entirely remove the haunted worry from her seastorm eyes. “Do you think you can handle feeding yourself?”

He just gave her a sideways look, surprised by how much annoyance he managed to put in that glare. “I’m not a…” He trailed off, realizing just how silly protesting would be under the circumstances. She’d already sung him a lullaby. She’d already had him in her lap. “…not a babe in arms,” he finished lamely, rubbing his eyes to cover the embarrassment that, for once, had nothing to do with visiting guards. “I can handle feeding myself. I think.”

“…right.” Skyler rolled her eyes, holding out more than half of the apple, neatly sliced. Cael reached out to take it, but pulled his hands back before she could drop it. The assassin frowned, still offering the apple. “What?”

Cael shook his head. “I don't need-" oh, but yes, you do. You need about a bushel of them. "All of it, what about you?” She’d been here less time, yes, but her stomach was growling too, wasn’t it? He’d heard it, though not too clearly, he’d been in and out and…and Skyler was still staring at him, in that amused-bemused way she had when he’d been babbling about dreams the other day.

That was a day ago already?

“There’s another apple, Cael, and the cheese...” she said, holding the fruit in question in her other hand, the knife already sticking out of its side. “I’m not going to starve myself nobly, if that’s what you’re worried about…”

...she did say apples, didn't she?

It was almost rude how quick he snatched the apple slices after that, but much less rude than how fast he managed to devour - or maybe inhale would be the better word - them. He'd been the youngest of four boys (and one girl, but Ida rarely made off with her brothers' meals). He'd learned, out of necessity, how to eat fast; a lesson he'd re-learned in the week he'd been kept with the other prisoners, before Kamen had been killed-

At least he died before they thought to -

"Cael! Slow down, I told you no choking!"

The words yanked his mind forcibly back to the situation at hand, out of the stuff of memory and nightmare. He swallowed a mouthful of apple - relieving himself from his unconscious chipmunk-with-stuffed-cheeks impression in the process - and smiled apologetically at Skyler.

"Sorry, sorry, must've lost my manners..."

[skyler manfield]

“Manners are for when you aren’t in prison,� Skyler laughed, a little louder than she meant to (her laugh sounded a little like the child she‘d never been, its carefree sound belying the gravity of their situation), drawing the attention of the guard who stood and glared into the cell. She quickly gathered everything into her lap and sat very still. How stupid could she really be? They’d never get out alive if she was so careless.

“I suppose a little discretion couldn’t hurt though,� she admitted much more quietly a couple of minutes after the guard returned to his stool, “It would be pretty stupid to get us killed now that we’re only a couple of days away from getting you out of here.�

She wasn’t really sure what to say to him, although she felt like if she knew him better she could bring up what had happened with Reznik. If it was her, she knew that even if she didn’t want to, she would need to talk about it. Instead, though, she just sliced off some of the cheese, and laid it on the apple slice, shoving the whole thing in her mouth to keep herself from saying something she shouldn’t.

But then, what was “knowing someone well enough�? Hells, they’d slept in the same bed, held each other through some of their worst nightmares, and the amount of trust they had to have in one another was probably more than most people would ever experience in their whole life with another human being. She looked over at Cael, handing him the rest of the cheese.

“Do you wanna talk about it?� she asked around a bite of apple, “I mean… you don’t have to. But, I mean, if it were me, I’d want to …�

She’d want to what? Cry on someone’s shoulder like some little child? Whine about how terrible life was to her mum? Recount every terrible moment of the worst event in her life - which event would she even choose? Gods, she might as well just shove both feet in her mouth. What was she thinking? He might trust her with his life, but that was only out of necessity. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice about letting her sleep on the cot with him - it was that or she had to leave. And obviously he hadn’t wanted her to see…

Skyler stood up and shook her head, “I’m sorry, never mind, obviously I’m just … an idiot. Forget it.�

The floor was slick with mold in the corners, and Skyler rubbed her foot across it, her back turned to Cael. The whole personal relationship thing was beyond her. She’d have done better just to come in, feed the man, and get him the hell out of this place - that was all she was supposed to do. So why was she worried about whether he was alright emotionally - that wasn’t supposed to be her problem.

Unsure of what to do, Skyler leaned against the wall in the corner of the cell, sliding down it into a crouching position. It smelled terrible, and there was a hole next to her with chittering sounds coming from within - probably the resident rat family. She had yet to give Cael the note his brother had sent, it still rested in a pocket at her side, and she pulled it out now, turning the thin parchment in her hands.

“Your brother sent a note for you,� she would have tossed it to the prisoner from where she sat, but the movement might have caught the guard’s attention, or it might have dropped on the floor and gotten wet or soiled. With a reluctant sigh, she crossed back over to Cael, and knelt before him, holding the small packet out to him like a peace offering.

[Inkfinger]

He set the block of cheese down and stared at the envelope for a moment, mind turning her suggestions over and over again. Did he want to talk. No, no he didn’t, he wanted to forget about it. Shove it in some corner of his brain where it could, and would, never be touched again. But her words…

Ludvik sent a note.

He couldn’t talk to Ludvik about this. Not ever. His older brother would never look at him the same again, every time they spoke there would be pity in those violet-blue eyes. The older man had never been able to keep a secret from the rest of the family - if he told Ludvik, eventually they’d all find out.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, reaching out to take the envelope, “how much Ludvik told you, when you were with Hawk.” Her hands were still warm, and his hands practically engulfed hers. He didn’t take the letter just yet, simply holding on, almost as tight as he had before. “But…we were just trying to feed people, Skyler…” The months of traveling through the snow, of his friendships and the constant, mind-numbing stress, rolled through his memories. “We weren’t trying to collapse the government, weren’t taking sides…” He shivered, once, and thought of his men; his friends.

“It was just the four of us in my group…” He pulled on her hand, ever so gently, tugging her back up to sit beside him again, with his boney form between her and the door, knees up to make the blanket even more wrinkled. “Not one of ‘em is a…” He paused on the verge of simply saying ‘around’, but denying the truth hadn’t gone so wonderfully for him lately, had it? “…a-alive anymore. Damyan got himself shot in the back,” took the shot that was meant for me. “I…held him as he died.” He swallowed, suddenly jittery again. The big wyrmfolk had been the closest thing he’d had to a friend in the whole mess. The paper crackled between his fingers as he worried at it, simply for something to do.

“I killed F’bael myself. He was…he sold us out to the church, was gonna go after Ludvik…” He could still remember, far too vividly, the play of the naginata’s shaft in his hand, the hot, copper-sweet scent of F’bael’s blood on the snow. “I kept him from getting Ludvik, but I…couldn’t save Kamen. He got caught right before I did. Th-they hanged him a week later, made me watch…” Saying it all aloud hurt with a fire that had nothing to do with scar tissue and bruises. “They hadn’t even taken him off the gallows before Re-the captain….”

He should have seen it coming, even back then. The week between their capture and Kamen’s execution had been spent in interrogations, each witnessed by some high ranking Church member or other. The captain hadn’t acted on any of the ugly intentions he’d seen lurking in his green eyes, but they had been there all along. He fumbled with the envelope, taking an inordinate amount of care in opening it, praying the paper wouldn’t make too much noise as it tore.

“He…” Cael glanced up, caught that stormy gaze again, and abruptly looked away, speaking low and hoarse and rapid; knowing he had to say something if he ever wanted to truly recover. It didn’t stop him from wishing saying the words would erase the past. “T-took me… fucked me on those gallows, in front of half a dozen bloody guards, r-right under Kamen’s body.” The envelope tore in jagged halves, but he paid no mind to the fact that he was crumpling the paper within. “Told me it was over, s-said I was his bitch, and I m-might as well start acting like it, an’…th-that’s about where we’ve been since then.” He waved the torn envelope at the wall of tally-marks. “At least once a week, if not more…”

He stared at the torn and wrinkled envelope without really seeing it, feeling the heat returning to his ears. Skyler tugged it away, slid the folded letter free, and handed it back without saying a word. Cael took it, equally silent, though Skyler caught his hand before he could pull it back. Startled, he looked at her. Her face was inches from his, and the torchlight caught and pooled in her grey eyes, melting them to an ethereal glow; almost how he imagined an angel’s face would appear – fierce and wild and strong, and yet so very human…he reached up, fingers trembling, to brush her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Her lips look very soft... He had the briefest mental image of reversing their earlier positions, of pulling her into his lap and seeing if they were as soft as they looked…He coughed, abruptly, flinching back as if he’d been burned. Skyler sat upright at the same time, stammering apologies without really saying anything.

What the hell is wrong with you? One moment you’re dumping the captain and his…well. Just. The captain on her shoulders; the next…you cannot think about her like that. Not now. Maybe once you’re actually out of this pit. He tried to cover the awkward silence in the cell by unfolding the note. His brother's thick, slightly clumsy letters stared up at him, stark black against the white.

Dearest brother, it read, I can't help but think this information is coming too late to be any help. The rest of the plague rats- his lips twitched ever so slightly at the name. He'd meant it as a self-insult at the time, on that last day he'd seen his brother. Ludvik, as usual, had turned it into a joke - have found new homes. If our mutual friends- he probably meant the Church, in general; the older man had worked for them for years, training the drakes they used to travel in the winter- ask again, tell them rats fly south like birds. They have need of new rat-catchers in the Illamund fiefdoms, I hear. Keep yourself safe, keep your cards close to your chest, I hope to see you soon.

There was no signature. The ink smears and blots were enough - Ludvik had never been comfortable with a pen. Skyler peered over at the note.

"Anything helpful?"

"I...can't tell," Cael admitted. "If Rezník asks again, maybe, but..." he flushed, tapping the card against his fingertips. "I...after tonight, I do not think he will bother asking again." He cleared his throat, looking at her again. "Thank you, though, whether or not it turns out to be useful."

[skyler manfield]

His hands were cool as they surrounded hers, which were much smaller than his. Why he would even want to speak to her now, she couldn’t imagine. She could hardly meet his gaze, pale blue and full of pain. But he was close, and his voice demanded eye contact, as though to share his secrets beyond what words could say.

“I didn’t really ask, or assume what was happening,� she admitted, “I make it a practice to keep my nose out of the particulars of why I’m doing what I’m asked - but I knew that Hawk wouldn’t typically meddle in a war, it was too risky. There had to be a good reason.�

The young assassin allowed him to pull her back onto the cot. He sat between her and the door, she noticed, as though somehow placing himself between her and danger. And she found that even though she knew how weakened he was after months of imprisonment, she felt safe with him. It was a strange feeling, since the only person she had ever thought herself stupid enough to trust was Hawk - but this didn’t feel stupid.

Cael’s voice wavered a bit as he recounted the days leading up to his imprisonment, and almost broke a few times when he spoke of Kamen’s death and the horrors that followed. Most people would have looked on Cael with pity - most would have looked on Skyler with pity too, but this wasn’t an emotion Skyler thought she was even capable of. Instead, her fists clenched once more in rage, her eyes hard with anger. The captain had stolen more from Cael than should have been possible, and all under the watchful eyes of the Church.

He was fidgety, and would tear the precious letter if he continued, his hands worrying the envelope so much. Skyler gently pried the note from his hands, pulling the parchment from the battered envelope and placing it into Cael’s hands. But she couldn’t just let what he had said lay there between them, filled with pain and regret - her hand closed on his, and she met his gaze, their faces very close. The personal space she always fought hard to maintain was dissolved, the inches between them filled with almost visible static electricity.

It was as though the world held them there, locked together in that cell, not by chains or bars, but something else more substantial - perhaps their shared experience, or maybe their knowledge of each other’s deepest secrets. Her eyes shifted from his, focused on his mouth for a moment - it was crazy, but somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice was begging him to kiss her.

He coughed, shattering the spell that had locked them together for that moment, and Skyler pulled away, her face flushed - she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment of her hope that he would kiss her (she hated and distrusted men, they were disgusting and lecherous and deceitful, why did she want to be kissed by one?), or if it was because he hadn’t kissed her and she still wanted him to.

“I didn’t mean… I just… don’t think that… but I really… I’m sorry, I thought…� her words came out in a confused jumble, her heart racing as fast as her thoughts. She turned her face away, and wished he hadn’t let go of her hand yet, wondering if she’d read the tension between them wrong. Hawk would be laughing at her right now. Skyler really wasn’t very good at the whole people thing - she was much better at making them die.

They sat there in silence for a long while, and when she looked over, Cael was looking at the note, reading the jumbled text his brother had written. She refrained from looking over his shoulder and reading the very private words. If he wanted to share then he would - she’d already invaded his space enough for the day, she supposed.

When he looked up from the letter, she felt safe to ask if it was helpful - she wasn’t sure if it had the misinformation Hawk had promised it would, or if it was just reassuring or apologetic. She wasn’t quite sure how letters between siblings, one of which was imprisoned because of the other, usually went. He didn’t seem sure what to think of the letter though, and when he brought up Reznik again, she sighed.

“It’s just a note, Cael,� she replied, pushing away his gratitude with a bit of humor, still feeling a bit awkward from the preceding moments, “I figured I was coming in here anyway, I could be a messenger.�

Her heart still fluttered in her chest, and she lifted her hand to her breast as though to make it slow to a more normal pace, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It didn’t work, so she moved on and tried to ignore it.

“We need to plan,� she started speaking, less deliberately than normal, “I mean, we can’t just get up and leave without a plan. We should have a schedule or something, except we don’t really have anything to go by except the changing of the guard, and the torches. I think that you should eat every time the guard changes, and sleep right after that. We’re probably safe to sleep at the same time - which we should probably do soon. I think we’ve got about twenty minutes before the guard changes, and we can sleep then.�

She was rambling a bit, her mind racing through all the preparation. What if he wasn’t strong enough? Could she manage to support his weight enough to get him out of the prison? She hadn’t tested the mirror chain - would it actually work? She couldn’t likely get out the same way she’d come in, he’d never get back up through the hole she’d dropped through to get to his cell.

“I have to figure a way out of here, besides how I came in,� the assassin admitted slowly, “I have blueprints… but I can’t read them, not really.�

Skyler looked up at him, and swallowed around the lump in her throat, grabbing the flask of whiskey that sat between them and taking a long drag of it, letting the warmth slide down into the pit of her stomach, hoping it would lessen the knot that sat heavy there.

“Cael?� she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but there was something beyond all the plans that had to be said, “I’m sorry.�

He frowned as if he wasn’t sure what for, and she shrugged, not quite certain how to continue. Very slowly, she reached over and took his hand again, timidly lacing her fingers through his. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she looked up into the darkness which hid the ceiling, and then out at the flickering torch before looking back at him again.

“I’m sorry - I should have been here so much sooner. I’ve been putting Hawk off for… weeks now,� her voice cracked, and tears stung her eyes, the lump in her throat almost too much to talk around, “I could have gotten you out of here so long ago, but I was afraid to come here again. But… it’s my fault you had to … my fault Reznik came so many times.�

A tear escaped, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to go away, but it just forced more to come. Roughly, she wiped them from her face with her sleeve. Why the hell was she crying? How stupid. She’d cried more since she’d snuck into this cell than she had in the whole rest of her life combined.

“Sorry…� she whispered again, pulling her hand away and leaning back against the cool wall, closing her eyes and taking a rather uneven breath, “Sorry…�

[Inkfinger]

There was a moment, a short, here-and-gone, flash-in-the-pan moment where he had to stare at the note, rather than at Skyler. If he’d stared at her, she’d have seen the conflict raging behind his eyes.

I…could have been out sooner. He thought back over the weeks before she’d come – not just the days when the captain had demanded his attention, but the days he’d spent alone, unfed, wishing that someone, anyone, would talk to him, just so he’d know the other ear hadn’t gone bad; just so he’d know there was someone else alive.

She didn’t know. The larger section of his mind argued back, almost growling.

His thoughts snarled right back, hissing venomously, using the tone he’d used to take against his brothers when they had all ganged up on him. I didn’t have to go through all th-

She.Didn’t.Know. It was good to know that the larger part of his mind was rational. The note was shaking before his eyes. If he stared any longer, the words would probably be seared into his mind for the rest of his life, like these events already would be: torchlight and the smell of fear and worry and violation; the rough blanket on his skin, and her warm, strong, small hand clinging to his…

But- The rebellious thoughts were whining now, like a child denied a toy. Cael stole a glance out of the cell. The guard was still out of sight. He breathed a sigh of relief and set the wrinkled note down next to the discarded block of cheese, taking the block and knife in the note’s stead.

But nothing. He kept his eyes on the sunny yellow-orange as he began carving off slices. She’s not responsible for this any more than you’re responsible for what they’ve done.

But-

And you need to say something before she thinks you hate her. He focused on carving curlicues into the cheese, wishing –in some small way that still horrified him- that the neat roses of slashes were in the captain’s skin. She’s putting a lot on the line for you. She’s hurting. You’re hurting. Shared hurt is halved.

“It’s…� he finally spoke, his shaking hands fumbling with the knife and cheese for a moment, before he finally just set them back down, on top of the note. He took the envelope in his hands instead, the clumsy seams where it was glued together coming apart – somewhat like the edges of his mind, unfolding in ways they hadn’t before. “It’s n-not your fault, Skyler.� He smoothed the wrinkled paper, swallowing.

“You didn’t put them in power, you didn’t put me in here, you…â€� You didn’t send ReznÃ*k. He left the thought unspoken. He’d had more than enough of the captain to last him the rest of his life. “I…â€� Have no idea what I’m saying. As usual. He started folding the paper. A small, familiar sound, a combination of a sniffle and a gulp, drew his focus back to reality - when he looked up again, Skyler was still crying, tears staining glistening trails down her cheeks.

“Oh. Oh-oh, don’t…� He reached out, then, and pulled her closer, draping his arm over her shoulders. The motion reminded him of a mother bird, and he almost snorted at the mental image. “Don’t cry, Skyler…� He leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of her head, the only place he could think of that wouldn’t make him feel as if he was sullying something he had no right to touch…

No, see. That’s you thinking like they’ve made you think, like it’s your fault that they’re sick bastards. She held you. She doesn’t think you’re a filthy pervert… He blinked at that clear thought, and finally gave into the urge to pull her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, trying his absolute best to ignore the instincts screaming no, no, nonono at the heat of another body so close. “Please, Skyler.�

Don’t cry over me. It’ll all work out.

He began talking, hoping to distract her from her conscience and her undeserved guilt and him from his own jackrabbit heartbeat as his hands worked with the scraps of envelope.

“If you can get us out of this cell,� he said softly, “and up…� he paused for a long moment, thinking. Trying to recall the halls he’d been dragged down a month ago, before he’d been thrown in here. “Two floors, three halls over, that way,� he pointed in what felt like the right way, his breath mussing Skyler’s hair as he did. “I can get us out of the building.�

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, adding crease after sharp crease. The paper-folding was familiar, comforting in the same way that her presence was; something he could think about other than the few short days between him and what could have been –and could still be - the end. “I could get us out of the city, even, but…if your friend and Ludvik will be looking for us in Knife’s Edge I can’t see that being helpful.�

He made one final crease and opened his hands, displaying a tiny crane. He set it down on the blanket with a small, crooked smile. “We’re quite the pair, eh? Lying scribe who can’t do more than fold bits of paper, pretty girl assassin…sounds like one of those novels you get from Radasanth. ‘Together, they fight crime!’� He’d loved those when he was a younger…

Never thought I’d be living in one.

The shadows down the hall shifted again, the torch’s flames dancing high with the influx of fresh air. Cael sighed. “Looks like you were about right about the shift change…�

Skyler nodded - and then sat up straighter. "We have to put the backpack away." She slid off his lap, and out from beneath the blanket. Cael couldn't help but sag in a mixture of disappointment and relief, but he took the diminished block of cheese, carving one last slice and shoving it in his mouth before he joined Skyler.

She was repacking the flasks when he slipped the block of cheese into the open mouth of the bag. Something shifted inside, and he peered into the knapsack. "What was that?"

"Just...my pack. Nothing important." She shrugged, taking the knife from him gently. Cael watched her slide it into place, gracefully - he took that moment of distraction to reach into the pack, ignoring her quiet squawk of protest. "Hey!"

Smooth leather brushed his fingertips. He pulled his hand back out, unsnapping the first buckle his fingers encountered as he did. He found himself staring down at a small collection of multicolored vials sorted into a leather case. Some of the labels he couldn't read, half because they were faded, half because they were in Fallien. Those, though, he could recognize one word - the strange slashes meant poison. He'd had to learn that as a scribe - part of the list he'd been given so he'd know what type of things not to copy...

"Poisons?" He picked one of the vials up, turned it over in his hand, head tilted. Hemlock. He almost dropped the vial, catching it before it could crash into the others. He didn't know if that was important; but as such he didn't want to risk it. His chains jangled, but the guards were used to that.

"Yes, poisons." There was no room for apology in her voice. She took the vial away from him, set it in the pack carefully. "I am an assassin, Cael. I can't just tickle them to death." She sighed, shaking her head, as he tried to rearrange his mental schema. Knowing someone was an assassin and seeing the tools of the trade were two separate things. She smiled at him when she saw his stare, taking his hand again. "It's safe though. Mostly."

"Mostly," he repeated, shivering just a bit. He heard a voice echo down the hall and gave Skyler a gentle shove towards the cot. She was already moving, steps sure and quiet and covered by the sound of the chains. He followed after, watching the shadows dance until Skyler returned to her place, curled up next to the wall. He took the blanket, threw it over her, and then lay down himself, tugging the blanket into place just as the new guard marched past the bars.

"Yeah, he ain't really moved since the cap'n left," the old guard's voice echoed down the hall. "There's coffee 'round the corner if you get bored."

"Alright." The new guard was right outside the bars; Cael could feel his eyes through the blanket. He kept his eyes on Skyler, torn somewhere between terror and laughter. She was holding her breath, and his hands, and she didn't breath until the guard's booted footsteps sounded down the hall once again.

Cael breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his hands quiver. Skyler just grinned. "Get some sleep," she whispered, letting go of one hand to brush his lank hair out of his eyes. "We'll get out sooner that way. I promise."

"I'll try." He whispered back, already feeling his eyes flutter. He curled up as best he could, resting his head on his free arm, feeling the hard cot rubbing his hip and shoulder, but unable to be bothered by it right now. "G'night, Skyler..." he said, yawning as he finally let his eyes fall closed. "Sleep tight..."

He may have had no plans to sleep, but he soon drifted off anyways, into something deep and, as far as he remembered later, dreamless.

[skyler manfield]

Great, now he’s going to think I’m a baby for crying - like I even have a right to. He’s the one who deserves to be upset. But he didn’t even seem to notice. Skyler wondered if he was upset with her - she wouldn’t blame him at all if he was. She’d been a coward, afraid of the place, knowing how terrible it was and knowing that if she were caught she wouldn’t make it out alive this time. But what had it cost Cael? Entirely too much, and she would never forgive herself for it. It didn’t seem he would be able to either.

He just sat there carving angry designs in the cheese, and Skyler tried to keep her face turned away from him, feeling as bad for crying as she did for what had happened to him while she whiled away the hours in a warm house with good food and the company of her most trusted friend. It hadn’t seemed like her problem at the time, but now it felt like the weight of it would crush her.

When he finally spoke, it wasn’t in anger, or to question how she could be so selfish, or to tell her what a terrible person she was and a coward. There was something akin to acceptance, forgiveness in his voice, and it somehow only spurred on more tears. How could he not hate her? Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to swallow a sob, and choked on it instead.

And then somehow his arm was around her, his lips on her head, and he was begging her not to cry as he pulled her into his lap. He was warm, and his rail thin body wrapped around hers almost protectively, his arms closed against her as she tried not to let the sobs shake her apart. Guilt was overwhelming and sorrow that she had let him down - if she’d have known him before, she would never have hesitated. She rested her head against his shoulder, her wet cheek against his neck, wishing that after they were free of this place, they could do this without the guilt and fear and pain that seemed to surround them just a little more every day they were in the cell. His tattered shirt was rough against her skin, and she could feel his heart trying to outpace her own racing beat; it all made the situation that much more real.

She was barely hearing him as he spoke about their escape, but she caught the directions, and that once to the certain floor and room, he could get them out - how she didn’t know, but obviously he had his own secrets hidden up those tattered sleeves. As he set the small crane down before her, she lifted her head from his shoulder, taking the tiny folded paper wonder in her hand and stared at it with something akin to amazement. She’d never seen anything like it before - it was so lovely and perfect. The tears were forgotten for the moment as she turned it in her hands, as though inspecting his handiwork.

Then they had to rush, because the shift change was upon them. She began to gather the food, the flask, and the knife, because even though she could make the guards ignore her, she was pretty sure they’d notice a hunk of cheese and leftover apple. Cael grabbed her backpack before she could, and pulled out the leather case that held her poisons, opening it even as she objected.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know she was an assassin, but she felt the need to explain herself. He acted surprised though, and she cocked her head to one side, her eyebrows drawing together and a smile curling the edge of her mouth.

“Poisons?� he asked as if he didn’t believe the words etched on the bottles, almost dropping the bottle of Hemlock, causing her to flinch - if he got that much on his hands, it would be enough to kill him in just a few hours. She sighed, replacing the vial and carefully packing the case away into her bag.

“Yes, poisons,� Skyler replied, trying her best not to sound exasperated, “I am an assassin Cael, I can’t just tickle them to death. It’s safe though, mostly.�

That wasn’t very reassuring, she knew that, and he commented on it, but what was she supposed to do, lie to him? Some of those poisons were fatal, some just highly toxic but only to the point of major discomfort or hallucinations. Hawk’s buddy, Fox, had given her the vials as a means of disabling guards should she need to. She honestly hoped she didn’t have to, it wasn’t part of the mission, and she didn’t like leaving trails of bodies behind her - it made her feel like a cold-blooded murderer, rather than a highly trained assassin.

She jumped as the guards came closer, and Cael pushed her toward the cot, where she dumped the backpack and laid down quietly, Cael following right after her and throwing the blanket over them both. They needed sleep, and her eyes were gritty from crying and going so long without rest. Her mouth still tasted of the salt of tears.

They settled down, the guards barely even looking into the cell, and both of them, face to face, hands clasped together, fell asleep. She was warm, and her body relaxed, her forehead resting lightly against Cael’s shoulder as they curled against each other. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t have nightmares, and she didn’t even sleep with one ear open.

She would wish she had though.

A rough hand grabbed her by the hair, followed by another, snatching her up by the neck and dragging her over Cael and off the cot. As she started to struggle, crying out angrily, the sting of a blade found her throat, pushing hard enough against the softness beneath her jaw that she felt the hot stickiness of her own blood escape down her neck. Clenching her teeth, the assassin froze.

“Thought I didn’t know she was here didn’t you?� Skyler shuddered, realizing in horror that it was Reznik who held her, “How did you like the show yesterday, girl? Did it get you hot?�

Skyler didn’t deign to respond to the bastard, only stared at Cael as he sat up with a horrified yelp. She wasn’t really afraid, just completely enraged. At least not until she felt the hardness of the captain’s arousal pressing against her, and his one hand move down to grasp her inner thigh to pull her closer to him. He leaned down to breathe against her neck, his teeth bared and nipping almost playfully on the side opposite the blade that still pressed hard against it. She wanted to gag, she wanted to scream, but the way he held her, she would only cause herself more harm than good, and then she’d never get Cael out of there.

“You really are stupid,� Reznik laughed, a sound that was more lustful than amused “Oh, Cael, the look on your face as I fucked you right in front of her. That was better than the gallows. I just want to thank you for playing along, I love my little gift here. I bet you she’s a tiger in the sack.�

Thrusting his hips against hers, Skyler cringed away from him, elbowing him in the gut. Or at least trying to. Instead, he spun her around faster than she could even think, his leering grin entirely too close to her face. Her back was against the bars now, and the point of the knife was dangerously close to her jugular. She knew he wouldn’t kill her. But that wasn’t really a comforting thought. His hand closed roughly on her breast, and then wandered lower, as he slid the blade along her throat, leaving a stinging trail of beaded blood where it passed.

“Cael,� she whispered, not really knowing what to do, her hands pushing at the captain’s shoulders without really making much difference to him. He was not a small man, and his feet were planted, his knee pushing between her legs as she tried to shove him away from her.

“No, no,� Reznik growled, grabbing her wrist and slamming it to her side against the cold of the steel bars, “My name is Reznik. You should get used to screaming it out, because we’re going to have quite a bit of fun. And your friend is going to get to watch from a lovely cage.�

She spat in his face, her grey eyes almost glowing with hatred as he held her there. Her stiletto was in the leather band at her thigh, but she couldn’t get to it. The torch glinted in Reznik’s eyes, turning them from green to gold, more beast-like than human.

“Does your mother know you’re such a perve? Did you rape her too?� she growled at him, jerking her knee upward in an attempt to knee him in the crotch. This only left him laughing as he jerked her away from the bars and shoved her against the cot, her head laying close to Cael’s hip, and Reznik’s face leering over hers. Why didn’t Cael do something? Her ears rang from the impact her head made as it slammed against the hard wood of the cot, and she held her breath.

Look in my bag Cael, there’s a knife in there, you can stab him … or me. Just do something…

[Inkfinger]

Cael awoke what felt, simultaneously, like days and mere moments after he fell asleep at the sound of Reznik’s voice, his heart in his throat and the sick realization that one of them should have stayed awake to watch after all. Skyler’s eyes were wide and panicked, and Cael didn’t blame her for one moment. He’d look exactly like that if Reznik had yanked him out of bed…he probably had, even, on several occasions.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t…

Reznik’s words had the sickness creeping back into his gut, oily and black and so thick he could almost taste it in his throat. He’d know. The bastard had known that Skyler was there – which meant there was same dark reason that he was back so soon. He barely heard Skyler’s whisper through the roar of overwhelming fear in his ears.

It took Skyler spitting in the captain’s face to snap him even partially out of it. Reznik simply wiped his face on his sleeve, still grinning broadly, though he spoke to Cael instead of answering Skyler’s defiant questions. “You sure know how to pick them, Cael. She’ll be a good replacement. Means I don’t have to go out hunting for a new whore once you’re all bled out and buried…�

There was something bone-chilling about seeing his situation from another point of view; something that left Cael shaking on the cot, the thin scratchy blanket clutched between his trembling hands. Reznik’s hands were wandering, just like always, but his tone was conversational, laced through and through with the desire that seemed to fuel his every move.

“Don’t know why you let him touch you,� he said to Skyler as his hand trailed back down her thigh. Cael tried to drag his eyes away, tried to move, but fear pinned him in place, an insect trapped in the amber of horrified terror. “Has he even told you all the things he’s done? Hell, he’s been ridden more than the village mule. I can’t even begin to tell you where all his mouth has been…�

He brushed his thumb over Skyler’s cheek, bending down to purr in her ear, though his jealousy-green eyes were fixed, mockingly, on Cael. “But I can tell you he’s damn good at what I make him do. Pity you won’t get a chance to try him out.� He stood a little straighter, the blade of his knife still tracing against her jaw, leaving delicate red lines in its wake. “He was more fun at the beginning, though. He used to howl so loud you’d’ve thought we were branding him. We weren’t, though. That came later…� His tongue crept out to brush her skin, laving the blood off her neck before he kissed the incision with all the delicacy of a true lover. “Bet you’ll howl all pretty for me, my tiger.�

Cael fianlly gathered the shattered remnants of his courage, glowering at their tormentor with all the rage he could muster. “G-get your fi-filthy hands off h-�

He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence before Reznik backhanded him, slamming his head into the stonework. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and he was helpless to resist as Reznik yanked him, one-handed, off the cot. The movement sent him sprawling in a pained tangle of limbs and chain, and he choked back a hoarse yell of desperate frustration. No one would come, if he yelled. They were used to him yelling, after all.

Reznik pinned Skyler to the bed with one knee in the small of her back, the knife still perilously close to her neck. He hooked one strong hand through the backpack’s straps, and flung it at Cael’s head. Cael barely ducked out of the way, catching the stinging slap of a buckle across his cheek in the process. Reznik let out a bark of laughter, turning back to his struggling quarry.

“You know the best thing, Ricci? I don’t have to account for her. The clergy, the church, they don’t know she’s down here. Unlike you, I don’t have to give them her body, or a record of her death…� The knife blade slid down across her shoulder, splitting the sleeve of her shirt. “I can do whatever the hells I feel like to her and no one is ever gonna know.�

Cael felt a rush of cold rage leak into his stomach, slowly creep up his spine. The captain meant every word he said, every hateful syllable. No one checked his quarters – Cael himself had spent a week in them, a week he’d be trying to forget for the rest of his life, and no one had noticed. No one had said anything. The captain could do whatever he wanted, and he’d get away with it. Every poisonous idea…

Wait. Poison. He said no one would know but me…he probably sent the other guard away, if he knew she was here…no one will find him…if…

Cael fought to shake off his dizziness, reaching out to pull the discarded pack to him, trying to be as silent as he could. Reznik was too busy gently cutting Skyler’s shirt to shreds that just about matched Cael’s to spare a glance for the inkmage. Cael prayed for him to remain distracted, digging through the pack wildly. The small case he’d just looked at was now buried in the rest of the bag’s contents, including the cheese knife. He grabbed the case, risking a glance at the one-sided fight on mere feet away.

Reznik was still taunting Skyler, his voice so low that Cael could barely hear it beneath the buzzing of his bad ear; but he could hear just enough to feel disproportionately relieved that he couldn’t hear the rest. The case snapped open in his hand, and he pulled the only poison he could recognize out of the neatly sorted vials. He unscrewed the cap, and took a deep breath, holding the vial carefully.

"I said get off!"

Reznik didn't even look his way when he answered, lazily, "No, Cael, see, that's what I'm aiming to do..." He laughed at his own joke. Cael almost gagged.

It took all his will power to lunge for his tormentor instead of -as he felt like doing- retreating, cringing, to the corner. He dropped the knife on the bed, sliding it as close to Skyler’s hand as he could manage – she would know how to use it far better than he would – and crashed into the guard’s side. It was not entirely unlike slamming into a brick wall – Reznik easily had several inches on Cael, and probably a good hundred pounds, all of it muscle. The captain let out a startled grunt, but spun to take a swing at his smaller attacker.

He got a fistful of chain and a faceful of powdered hemlock for his trouble. Cael almost would have laughed at the shock in the captain's eyes, if not for the rest of the powder cascading over Reznik’s shoulder and drifting, like malevolent snow, onto Skyler’s face. The assassin swiped at the powder with her ruined shirt sleeve, but didn’t seem to focus on it. She moved, instead, with all the grace of the tiger Reznik had named her, driving the dropped knife into Reznik’s lower back just as the captain freed himself from the tangle of his would-be victim’s chains. Her other hand held a stiletto – the thin blade soon joined the first.

The captain didn’t scream, didn’t yell. He simply let out a choked gasp of pain, one hand going for his back as his legs seemed to buckle. Cael ducked under the knife in his other hand, snatching one of the shreds of cloth left discarded on the cot and shoving it into Reznik’s mouth before he could scream. His ankle chain yanked Reznik’s feet out from under him as the guard staggered backwards; the motion almost dragged Cael back to the floor. His sore muscles, strained already, added a cacophony of pain, begging him to just collapse.

He couldn’t stop now.

He staggered, shaky-legged, to the pack, retrieving the water flask from within. He paused a moment, and grabbed the whiskey flask as well. He didn’t know, exactly, how strong the poison smudged over Skyler’s pale face was, and he had no desire to find out. She turned just as he splashed some of the water - letting the water drip onto the cot and the floor, but not onto her clothing. It collected in a small puddle on the cruddy stone, a miniature pond that spread towards Reznik with every drip. Cael extended a sleeve, offering her the worn cotton to dry herself off. She shoved his hand away, brusquely, but not unkindly.

"Don't touch me."

"Skyl-"

"No, you goof, it's not..." She gave another short, exasperated sigh. "I don't want you getting poisoned too." She scrubbed her face off, then took the flask, splashing her face with more of the clean liquid. "I'm just hoping..." She looked at him, a strained grin on her face. "I'm hoping we get out of here before either of us completely collapse. Now. Get moving!"

[skyler manfield]

Skyler made a concerted effort to ignore the lecherous words being whispered in her ear, concentrating on holding perfectly still and remaining as silent as possible, even as Reznik’s knee crushed into her spine, her ribs creaking against the cot under his weight. She absolutely refused to scream, cry out, or in any other way react to the captain’s disgusting ministrations. It would only increase his arousal, and that was the last thing she wanted. Biting her lip, she focused on the splintered wood beneath her cheek, the reflection of the torch’s glow on the glistening grime of the back wall of the cell.

Being so detached proved to be a mistake. She heard Cael yell at Reznik, but she was not expecting the shower of powdered Hemlock that dusted her face, and she gasped in surprise, coughing and rubbing her tattered sleeve over her face as Reznik staggered back. It would have to wait though, the poison wouldn’t affect her immediately, and that meant neither would it affect Reznik quickly either. With practiced ease, and the captain’s weight removed from her, she quickly spun, paring knife in one hand and stiletto in the other, driving one and then the other blade into Rez’s left kidney. Her smile was grim as she met his green eyes - he couldn’t even cry out, the powder that he’d inhaled leaving him coughing fitfully and gasping for breath.

Cael managed to get the man to the ground, and stuffed one of the strips of cloth Reznik had removed from her shirt into the captain’s mouth. Skyler stood, stiletto dripping blood - the paring knife still stuck out of Reznik’s back - and tried to stop herself from shaking, her mind still detached from the world around her. A splash of water in her face brought her to herself though, and as Cael reached forward to wipe the remains of the hemlock from her face, she shook her head violently and pushed him away, stepping back quickly.

“Don’t touch me!� her voice was urgent, and she was sure he thought it was a reaction to her close-call with Reznik, but she was already feeling light-headed, like the floor was about to drop out from under her - she didn’t need Cael to get the stuff all over him too. His face warped into a horrified grimace, and she sighed, shaking her head at him and rolling her eyes (bad idea, that made her extremely dizzy). “No you goof, I don’t want you getting poisoned too!�

Trying to do a thorough job of it, she splashed a bit more water on her face and scrubbed the remains of her sleeve over it again, hoping the rest was gone. The room spun a bit, and she quickly crouched to the ground, pulling out her lock pick and fumbling with Cael’s chains in an effort to cover her increasing vertigo. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to still her shaking hands as she fiddled with the lock, finally clicking it open. She was able to open the others more quickly, and deliberately took the chains in her arms, dragging them over to Reznik who was writhing in pain. Skyler took great pleasure in fastening the manacles onto his wrists - what was even better was how tight they were, causing him to flinch and try to wriggle away as they pinched his skin. With a deceptive calm, Skyler leaned down, her lips very close to the captain’s ear.

“I want you to know, Lev Reznik,� she growled, “That not only are you dying for your sins, but your wife and children will soon join you in hell. Know that they will pay for what you have done here, and you will hear their screams as you burn.�

His eyes widened in disbelief, and the assassin smiled calmly at him as she rose, a rough laugh escaping her lips as his expression changed into one of horror at the realization that the girl was entirely serious. With a disgusted snort, she leveled a hard kick to his ribs, which sent him into another fit of coughing around the gag.

With a quick turn that left her head spinning, Skyler faced Cael and snatched her pack from his hands, grateful he’d packed it for her. Threading her arms through the straps, she settled it on her back, shrugging it into place. Glancing around the cell, she nodded, sure she had everything. She’d already slid the bloody stiletto into its home against her right thigh, and the paring knife still protruded from Reznik’s lower back.

The dancing of the torch against the stones of the small chamber outside the group of cells made Skyler want to vomit, but that was out of the question and the assassin gritted her teeth together in an effort to keep her rising gorge down. Lifting a finger to her lips, she nodded at Cael so he’d know he had to remain as quiet as possible. She hoped he was strong enough to make it out - for that matter, she hoped she was strong enough.

As they reached the doorway of the chamber, she grabbed what she assumed was Reznik’s coat from a hook next to the torch, and tossed it toward Cael, barely giving him a chance to get it on before she reached into the front of her shirt - which was rather worse for wear - pulling out the small packet that held the mirror chain. It was a much more delicate version of the heavy chain she’d just removed from Cael, and held a much more important purpose. She prayed it worked.

“Fox gave me this,� she murmured as she attached one end of the chain to her wrist, it’s glass encrusted steel links cool against her skin which was burning up and clammy with sweat, “It’s supposed to make it so that my ability is transferred to you - if I make myself so the guards can’t see me, they shouldn’t be able to see you either. It’s from Fallien.�

With a soft click, her shaking hands closed the other end around Cael’s thin wrist, and she rested her hand on his arm for a moment to steady herself. He frowned, looking at her with concern in his blue eyes, and she managed to smile at him.

“Let’s hope this works - if it doesn’t we’re in trouble,� she warned him, “Now let’s go before someone gets curious.�

Immersing herself into her ability, she took a deep breath and started up the stairway that lead to the outside world. It was much more difficult to maintain the illusion of invisibility with the hemlock in her system, and she had to concentrate very hard on what she was doing. Pausing on the first landing, she turned to Cael.

“I have to make sure I keep the guards from seeing or hearing us, and that’s going to take all my attention,� she explained in a low voice, hating to put more stress on him, but they’d never make it out if she didn’t, “You’ve got to keep an eye out and aim us in the right direction, I won’t be able to do it.�

She didn’t tell him it was because of the poison. It would just make him worry - let him think it was just a caveat of her skill, something that always happened when she tried to use her talent. Skyler didn’t have time for him to get all worried about her right now. She could get sick later. Cael nodded, and she turned away from him with an echoing nod, continuing up the stairs behind him now instead of in front of him, letting him lead the way out.

They went up three flights of stairs, and Skyler wanted to cry her body ached so bad. Her muscles kept spasming, and her skin was slick with sweat. With a light tug at Cael’s stolen coat, she motioned for him to wait as she turned and emptied her stomach onto the step below, hands braced on her knees as she violently retched. When she finally stood up, Cael’s eyes were filled with panic, and she shook her head, hoping he would just let it go.

“You alright?� he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Skyler wiped her mouth, the bitter taste of hemlock and stomach acid burning her throat. She nodded and tried for a weak smile.

“I’m fine,� she lied, “It’s just my body getting rid of the poison. Keep going.�

She kept her eyes on his back, her right hand on the wall to keep herself upright, and her mind focused on making the two of them completely unremarkable. They passed by several guards, all heading downward toward the cell they’d just escaped, and each time they paused, pressing themselves into the wall and staring at each other as the guards moved by them without so much as a second glance. So far they had been very fortunate, and she hoped their luck would hold.

Finally, Cael paused, stepping into a small storeroom at the top of a set of stairs, and she followed him in. Her shirt was damp with sweat, and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. No longer was her heart racing. It had now slowed to a creeping pace and she felt like she was moving in slow motion through the world around her. It was becoming hard to breathe, each breath turning into something more like a gasp, wheezing loudly in her chest as she fought for air. She had no idea why they had stopped in this room, but she honestly didn’t care. Skyler was grateful for the chance to stop, her body slowly succumbing to the accidental poisoning. If she could just keep Cael hidden long enough to get him out of the prison, just keep breathing, keep walking, keep focusing enough to keep them from being noticed. She could just go to sleep after that, and maybe she’d be fine.

“Skyler!�

[Inkfinger]

Reznik’s greatcoat was too big, and almost too heavy, the rough wool abrading at the scabs and scars on his back. The coat’s skirt flapped around Cael’s shins, and the insignias gleamed in the torches’ light as they hurried past. It looked off, with dirty bare feet beneath, and Cael was infinitely glad for the mysterious chain shielding him from view.

Skyler was getting worse with almost every step. Cael could tell, for all she tried to hide it. She kept shivering and every time he looked back her skin gleamed, slick with a thin sheen of sweat. He only prayed that it would hold off long enough for him to get them out and get help. He couldn’t help but grimace at the entire situation: the fact that she was poisoned, the fact that Reznik had cut her shirt to ribbons, the fact that he had to wear Reznik’s coat now. It still smelled like the captain – cheap cigarettes, wine and animal confidence.

It was making him twitchy.

The itching tug of the portal wasn’t helping, either; sinking into his brain now that he was loose and could act on its impulses. It was calling him toward the room that held it, like a beacon or a lighthouse. Even now, three months after he’d had this unwanted ability foisted onto him, the sensation still felt alien.

But, on that note, I won’t question it now. So long as it gets us out, that’ll have to be enough.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Skyler pulled him to a stop, losing the contents of her stomach. Cael winced in sympathy as he hugged the wall, feeling the vibrations of her heaving through the cool, smooth chain.

The poison wasn’t the best idea, his mind growled at him as he gently touched her shoulder. What else was I supposed to do? he shot back when she pushed away from the wall, calling on some reserve of strength that Cael was pretty sure he wouldn’t have if the tables were turned. Let Reznik molest her?

The voice went conspicuously silent.

Thought so.

He guided her into the storeroom, pretending not to notice the tremors for both their sakes, though he could hear her laboring for breath as if every inhalation hurt.

He’d been in this storeroom once before. It was little more than a glorified closet, the prisoners belongs kept together until they had served their time and were freed or, more often, executed. His leather knapsack hung in one far corner, next to his naginata and his ink-proof jacket. He reached out, carefully, the chain spreading as far as it could before he gently shifted his friend over. “Hang, on, just a tick….� He snagged the rough wood of the naginata, used it to drag the jacket and pack to him. “There we g-�

Skyler’s knees buckled as he turned back to her.

“Skyler!�

He dropped his burden, catching her half a second before she would have bashed her chin on the stone floor; though in her defense she was already starting to pick herself up by that time. “’m alright,� she mumbled, blinking at him. Cael hissed in a worried breath. Skyler’s eyes were fogged, unfocused. She looked at him for a second before she really looked at him. And the haze in them made his stomach clench again. He almost argued, almost insisted that no, she was most certainly not alright – but he shook his head at the last minute, holding out the jacket instead.

“Here. Put this on.�

She got it on, mostly, the chain gave them some difficulty when it came to the arm they were joined at. Cael simply draped the jacket over that shoulder, managing to cover the worst of her mangled shirt, and took her hand in his. Her skin was clammy and sweat-slicked, and he felt his own blood run cold.

Just hold on. We’re so close now.

“Only a few feet more, now. I promise.�

She didn’t really answer, but she straightened up through what looked like sheer force of will. Cael managed a small, proud smile despite their situation, though it faltered when he heard the panicked yell that rang up the stairs and leaked beneath the door.

“Damnit, I think they found the captain.�

Please let him be dead.

Skyler’s only response was an unintelligible mumble. Cael reached out and gently slapped her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her eyes fluttered open, almost silver in the dimness. They tried to focus for a moment before fluttering closed again. “Stick with me,� he said quietly. She must have heard him, for she said something else in return, but it was too garbled and the yelling ate the words.

He took a deep breath, pulled the storeroom door back open again, and stepped out into the hall, half-dragging the assassin behind him. He could hear the calls and the pounding of feet on stone bouncing off the walls, but he forced himself not to pay any attention.

At least, now if they catch you, you’ll probably be shot where you stand…

The portal room was a mere ten feet down the hall, but it took what felt like an agonizing millennium to traverse the distance, Skyler rasping for breath with each step. He tried to keep his steps measured and slow, for her sake, but every instinct was yelling at him to run. He bit down on the urge, but kept his eyes on their goal, almost sobbing with relief when they finally reached the big wooden door.

It was unlocked, but it took all his strength to push it open with the one hand he had available. He almost lost his balance when the door finally gave, catching himself before he could drag Skyler off her shaky feet. He gave her a gentle shove into the room before he followed, pushing the door closed again. It closed easier than it had opened, leaving them in almost-darkness.

He fumbled in Reznik’s pocket for a moment, his sore fingers finally closing around a hard iron loop. The captain’s keyring. He pulled it out, shoved the key between his teeth, and felt around in his pack until he caught hold of a scrap of paper. He wrapped it around the key’s teeth, and slid both paper and key into the keyhole. The paper crinkled angrily as the key turned, but he could feel the hole jamming already.

He jerked the key from the lock, and glanced over at Skyler.

She was wavering so badly that he could see it even in the dimness, shaking and shivering with her head bowed. He fought the renewed urge to panic back into the shadowed recesses of his mind, slipping his arm beneath hers and heading for the portal.

“Almost there…�

The portal -half a ring of carved, milky white quartz, set here and there with clear stones that glittered like a dozen miniature stars - almost glowed in the dimness. Cael ignored the translucent light, reaching out to brush his fingers over the sigils etched on the outside, fighting the urge to hold his breath. Six seconds. That’s all he’d need. He brushed his hand against the coat, trying to scrub off some of the dirt.

“I’m hoping,� he said, forcing jocularity into his voice, “that this thing remembers me. Otherwise…� And, that simply, it wasn’t funny anymore. The portal had already let him down once before. If it happened again, they were both dead.

Skyler didn’t respond, listing against his side. There was something wrong with her heartbeat. The gentle thudding against his ribs was molasses slow, and as weak as a bird’s, and it shouldn’t feel like that, Cael knew. Not with all the stairs they’d gone up, not with everything that had gone on.

Something rattled the door knob, and his heart just about burst from his chest, clogging his throat. He took a deep gulp of air, and shoved his hand against the cold stone.

Six, five, four, three, two…

The portal flared to life the moment he hit one, white fire exploding to flicker and danced up and down the sigils carved in the stone, trailing between his fingers and up around his wrists, leaving an electric tingle behind. He almost laughed, but the doorknob rattled again. He simply grabbed Skyler’s shoulders and stepped into the fire, thinking hard as the universe seemed to blink out of existence around them.

Illamund fiefdoms, Cael thought in the place-between-times and the time-between-places, thinking of Ludvik's note. South, four days – or maybe five - Illamund fiefdoms… how far into the fiefdoms could they have got in four or five days... He tried to think of places with portals in that region, feeling every single gateway yelling at him. If he paid them too much mind, they’d never get out; if he picked the wrong one they could end up stranded hundreds of miles away from where he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Ludvik and his friend would be.

Heivernok. The name came to him abruptly, and he thought it with all his strength, feeling that one location reach out and grab him-

-And, like that, they were out, standing outside a dull grey half-circle of stone, surrounded by charred wood and bent metal and the dark endless sky above. Heivernok’s ruined chapel. The place where it had all begun and ended, all those months ago.

Any other time, and he would have jumped right back into the portal. Any other time, he would have refused to stay in this place.

But any other time, he wouldn’t have had to deal with Skyler’s sudden dead weight pulling on his arm as the assassin collapsed face first onto the snow.

[skyler manfield]

“’M alright,� her lips were growing numb, her words becoming slurred as she righted herself, not wanting to admit how grateful she was Cael had caught her before she hit the ground. She might not have had the strength to pull herself back up if she had. As it was, it was a struggle to get the lightweight silk coat around her shoulders, only one arm in the sleeve. The briefest thought crossed Skyler’s mind that she would ruin the thin material, but as she shivered in the chill of the prison, she figured maybe Hawk could buy him a new one. At the sound of guards shouting, not too far away, she amended her promise to herself, to include - if they survived.

Inhaling raggedly, the assassin glanced at Cael, finding it impossible to focus on his face or his words. It was all she could do to remain upright, and almost as if she only heard every third or fourth word he said. She drew her brows together and focused on his mouth and made out the word “captain.�

“Dunworry…� she mumbled almost incoherently, “Rez dead. Bled out or… suffocated.�

Closing her eyes, Skyler allowed her shoulders to slump, her thoughts falling apart and drifting in different directions like leaves across the surface of a pond. The sting of Cael’s fingers against her cheek was almost missed, but his words were encouraging - he was taking responsibility for getting them out - surely she’d done enough, and gotten them this far.

“Seven faint this red cat…� the words coming out of her mouth made no sense to Skyler, and she frowned, glad when Cael opened the door and pulled her behind him across the hall. The sound of panicked guards and stomping boots roared behind the ringing in her ears, and she focused inward on trying to keep upright.

When she opened her eyes enough to actually look around her again she had to reach out and lean against Cael, it was almost pitch black, and her eyes took painfully long to adjust to the miniscule amount of light that crept under the door. Apparently Cael was more resourceful than she thought, because a key was jammed into the lock of the heavy wooden barrier, and her mind seemed to remember that this might keep whoever was chasing them, out.

The glint of crystal in the too dim light was barely enough to catch her attention for a brief moment, and she tried to focus on it as her body began to tremble, shivering not only from cold but almost as though it wanted to break into tiny pieces and lay shattered at Cael’s feet. His voice was so far away, she almost thought that might already be the case, but suddenly she was shoved into a furnace and her resulting cry was lost somewhere in the blinding light that seared her eyes shut.

It was as if the fire of this place was made of ice, and injected directly into her veins. It oozed through her heart, and she choked back a scream that didn’t leave her lips. Skyler prayed for the first time in her life, begging to the gods that she could just die. She wondered for a moment if she already had - what if this was hell? How many people had she killed to deserve this?

Her mind circled round and round the all-consuming pain, and suddenly it stopped. The light changed, and she opened her eyes, her knees buckling as she cast forward and, unable to catch herself, felt the frozen wetness of untouched snow. If it hadn’t been so unbearably cold on her face, Skyler may have laid there face-down in the snow, but instead she forced herself onto her back.

Cael was on his knees beside her already, and she wheezed in a meager breath of chill air, staring at where his face should have been. He was just a silhouette though, the snow-laden clouds a steely grey that shone with the reflected light of the setting sun. Between his head and the sky, stretched the skeleton-like bones of whatever building they had ended up in somehow. Skyler turned her head to one side to look around her, but she never did quite figure out where they were.

Instead, her back suddenly arched, eyes rolling back into her head. Her heels rattled the snow away as they pattered rhythmically down into the rubble beneath. Her awareness was so vague, she only thought the poison was tearing her body apart, and would leave bloody fragments of her to stain the snow crimson in her memory. When the spring came, her memory would be forgotten. Her teeth ground together, and her head pounded against the ground painfully.

Nearly a quarter of an hour later, the convulsions finally stopped, and Skyler, gasping for air, found herself in Cael’s lap. His arms were so much warmer around her than she thought possible, and the sun had set enough that she could vaguely see the concern in his pale blue eyes.

Taking a final, desperate breath, as though to say something, Skyler conceded to unconsciousness, unable to fight it any longer. As she slipped into something between sleep and death, she swore she heard Hawk’s voice. Too bad, he’s too late, her mind laughed, almost as an afterthought

[Inkfinger]

The portal's blinding fire flickered out, leaving the crater that used to be the basement of a church in the listless grey of twilight once again. The warmth left with the portal flare. The familiar Salvic wind, as brutal as ever, blew hard across his face, shocking tears to his eyes. He fought to ignore it.

Skyler was more important right now. She had managed to roll over on her back, but there was something wrong, something fundamentally terrifying that left his heart colder than the wind left his face. The chain tugged at his arm, and he landed on his knees next to her, hard enough to bruise.

He almost yelped, but his eyes focused before the sound had left his lips.

Ok, never mind, bigger problem now.

Skyler was gray. Well, mostly gray. Her lips were blue. Her face was ashen, as if all the blood pumping life through her veins had been replaced with ink. Her eyes were lolling, but when he could see them, her pupils were blown, the black almost devouring the gray. It was eerie in the twilight, alien and bizarre, and it shocked tremors that had nothing to do with fear for himself back through his core. “Skyler?� He reached out to touch her arm-

The girl’s back curled before his fingertips landed, her body arching almost violently, feet grinding into the ground with a crunch of snow and ash. He let out a startled yell before his body caught up with his brain, lunging for one flailing arm before she could hit the ruined timbers. “Skyler!� He spoke without a clue if she could even begin to hear him. “Skyler, wake up, come on, you’re going to hurt your-� He jerked again, and the chain binding them together moved with her, rubbing at the bandages. “-self! Or me!�

She didn’t look as if she heard, or if she had heard she couldn’t respond. When he could see her eyes, they were completely white, rolled back so far that none of the color showed. He could hear her teeth hitting each other in counterpoint to the sound of the snow, and he winced at the thought of what her teeth would feel like tomorrow.

Provided there is a tomorrow.

He managed to pin one arm to her side, half-dragging her into his arms before she jerked again, slamming the back of her head into his nose. He yelped again, feeling something crack within, and the hot, slimy itch of blood trickling down his lip.

“You,� he gasped, simply holding on all the stronger, “are quite the handful, you know that?� He managed to sit upright, wrapping his arms around her torso in an uncomfortable bear hug, pinning her with her back to his chest. “Nothing but trouble.� It took him awhile to form the words, dodging her unintended headbutts, but talking helped him not think about the situation, other than the panicked And where the hells are Ludvik and Hawk?

“My best friend growing up was like you. She’d get me in all sorts of trouble, then blame it on me…� The top of her head hit his chin; he just avoided biting down on his tongue before he continued. “And of course she had these big eyes that would make everybody believe her and trust her and-�

Come on, please stop, you’re scaring me and I don’t know what to do.

“-she probably could have sold ice to a Berevan, she was just that good…�

He kept talking as she jerked, body going through spasms of something beyond his ken against him, feeling a frustration he couldn’t allay building up in the back of his mind. We didn’t go through the past week just so I could watch her die here! He didn’t know how long it was before he heard footsteps in the snow, but by that time he wasn’t making any sense – or really trying to, for that matter. By that time he was focused, completely, on the too-cold body hugged to his own, feeling every too-slow heartbeat like a harmony to his own. Stilted and erratic, but very much there.

And she’d stopped convulsing. Now she simply lay in his arms, like an exhausted child. He no longer hugged her to his chest, but he still watched carefully, most of his attention focused on her movements in case it began again. One hand brushed at her hair, gently. Her eyes flickered, once, as he heard a voice.

“I did see it! I told you, they’re early!�

He didn’t know the voice; at that moment, he didn’t care. All he knew was that the small flicker of the assassin’s eyes hadn’t been enough. The moment they drifted closed again, she went completely and utterly limp against him. He couldn’t see her breathing and the heartbeat against his chest…

No.

The voice had still been talking, but the tone had changed. Now there was a tone something like worry in the voice as clean hands reached out to take the assassin from his arms.

“Cael, what happened?�

He didn’t hear, didn’t respond as he lay Skyler back down in the snow, blatantly ignoring the man trying to take his burden.

No.

He bent over the limp, too-pale form, resting his head against her chest for a moment. There wasn’t a noticeable rise and fall; he couldn’t hear the gentle drumming that should have been there. Cold, shaking fingers pressed gently against the side of her throat – nothing there, either.

I said no.

There were healers, probably, who could have simply thought his friend back to life, or sorcerers and wizards who could have snapped their fingers to summon warmth and vitality back into her frame. Her body, lying motionless, like the princess of some child’s tale, waiting for a prince or a warrior or a wizard…

But you are you, and what do you have? Nothing but words…but words, on occasion, hold the truth.

“Ludvik, I think you’d better get down here and get your brother…�

Cael ignored the words. He grabbed a handful of snow, scrubbed it across Skyler’s mouth, and bent down once more. Her lips tasted bitter and cold, but they were soft, and he felt the tears again, this time at not taking the chance earlier. If she died…

Hands closed on his shoulders and he jerked away in a moment of furious, protective instinct, spinning in his crouch – and only the chain around his wrist prevented the dark-haired stranger (that’s probably Hawk his mind supplied, unhelpfully) from getting an inexpert fist in the hollow of his throat.

He took a step back, hands raised, though he didn’t look at all intimidated. There was a flurry of motion above, a clatter of boards down the makeshift slope, and then, suddenly, Ludvik was there, looming over Hawk’s shoulder. Cael’s older brother took one look at him, and something seemed to shut down in his face, a door closing behind his torch-lit eyes. Cael tried not to think about it, the adrenaline slowly fading. His kiss hadn’t worked – had he really been expecting it to? – and now his tongue stumbled over the words.

“I…uh.� He just asked what happened. Just tell him what happened. “She…um. It was poison. Hemlock.� This should have been happy; this should have been a reuniting. There should have been joy. What if, instead, he’d brought him a dead almost-daughter? “She…can you help her?� The tears were there now, drying cold on his cheeks. He couldn’t look at Ludvik. He couldn’t. Looking would only remind him of everything he’d lost.

Hawk didn’t answer, really. He simply waved for Ludvik to take the girl’s ankles while he took her shoulders. Cael watched, unable to walk away, feeling….empty. He was out – but everything was wrong. He felt a tug on his wrist, drawing him out of his self-abusing reverie, and looked up to see both men looking back at him.

"Come on," Hawk said, not unkindly. "If we hurry, we can save her."

"Oh." Cael took one more deep breath, and followed.

*

Once they were in the nearby house and the chain was off Cael's wrist (coiled, now, on the bedside table), Hawk's calm exterior seemed to crumple. He hovered by the bed, calling out different orders. Ludvik was in and out of the small room where they'd laid Skyler often, each time with the thinks Hawk had requested - piles of blankets, a tub of warm water, bottles of brandy and things that Cael didn't recognize immediately. Those he put together to make a device almost like a bellows.

He could barely see the girl now, buried under that pile, but that strange contraption was now over her mouth, pumping life into her lungs. Her skin was still pale, almost ghostly against the multicolored blanket. Cael lurked outside the door, peering in every now and then. Now that Hawk was here, it seemed that Skyler was more his responsibility...he watched, startled at the tiny pang of jealousy, as Hawk brushed a strand of her hair back from her still face.

And then he looked up. Cael didn't have time to back out of sight. His eyes landed on the worried Ink Mage, and softened, just a bit.

"Come here."

He'd been able to handle talking to Skyler just fine, at least on the inside, but Hawk was a different story. Cael took a step that felt far too timid, even for him, into the room. Hawk watched him without any condemnation, waving at the bed. "You can stay with her, if you like. Get some sleep?"

Cael glanced over his shoulder. Ludvik had ghosted to his former post outside the door. He looked about ten years older than he had moments before outside, but he nodded without meeting Cael's eyes. Cael padded the rest of the way to the bed, lifted the top blanket on the massive pile, and slid under; rejoicing at the gentle feel of linen against his skin.

He was asleep before he hit the pillow.

[skyler manfield]

The voices were like those heard while deep underwater - and what made this sensation more real was that Skyler felt like she was drowning, her lungs burning with breath she really didn’t want to breathe. It all hurt too bad, and she just wanted to sleep. Before there had been darkness, silence, nothing. There was no afterlife, just a pure, empty, blank. And after the agonizing pain the poison had inflicted on her, she was more than happy to stay in a place where pain, and all other sensation was unnecessary. She had managed to get Cael out, away from Reznik, or anyone else who could ever hurt him in that terrible hole beneath St. Denebriel’s Cathedral. As the black emptiness of death had swallowed her into its stillness, this was the last thing she worried about, and it was a satisfied thought.

So why was the darkness gone? Her head ached from the red glow of the light that seeped through her eyelids. The voices that murmured over and around her were deafeningly loud but she could not understand anything they said, or even remember who they belonged to - perhaps they belonged to nobody she knew. The weight of the blankets was crushing, and the fabric stung as it moved across her bare skin. Something forced each painful breath into her lungs and out again, not allowing her the less painful shallow breaths she would have preferred - since she was obviously not dead anyway.

Not opening her eyes, the assassin pulled her hand from beneath the blankets, ever so slowly, finally able to grasp the apparatus that breathed for her and was now unnecessary. As she tried to fumble with it, gagging as she tried to pull the tube from her throat, a larger hand closed over hers and she struggled against it. Closer to the surface the words were easier to understand, and she heard her name in a now familiar voice.

“Skyler, stop, I’ll take it out,� it was Hawk and she opened one eye to peer at him against the blinding light of a candle beside the bed she lay in, “Thank the gods you’re awake. I was starting to wonder if we’d get you back. Shhh, shhhh, almost there…. Alright… How does that feel now?�

The other eye popped open, and she glared at him, her hand moving to her throat, which was crusted with scabs - she remembered with a grimace Reznik’s blade against her skin. That wasn’t why her throat hurt though, and she began coughing when she tried to ask for water. Hawk smiled, and ever so carefully placed an arm behind her to lift her from the bed and placed a cup of water to her lips.

The cool trickle down her throat felt wonderful. She held some in her mouth to wash away the nastiness of too many hours of sleep. With a frown, she pushed the water away, spilling some on the varicolored blankets in the process. Squinting against the light, her eyes searched the room in a panic, and her heart nearly stopped again. Closing her eyes against tears that threatened, she coughed once before speaking in a raspy whisper.

“Where?� her eyes opened, pleadingly holding Hawk’s gaze, “Where’s Cael?�

Hawk smiled and shrugged, gently letting her lay back after fluffing a pillow with one hand to prop her up. Smoothing her hair, which was sticky with old sweat, back from her forehead, he didn’t answer immediately, just looked at the door for a long moment.

“He’s with his brother,� he finally answered, and Skyler closed her eyes, turning her face away from him, “He’s fine, you did a good job. I’m sure he’s very grateful for everything you’ve done.�

“I’m sure he is,� Skyler replied, bitterly. After everything, she had thought he would be there. Or at least she had hoped so. But why would he be? All that she was supposed to do was get him out of the prison, not form any relationship, or have any emotional connection - that was absolutely ridiculous anyway. They barely knew each other, and it wasn’t her job. She’d done what was required, and of course he belonged with his brother - that was the whole point, wasn’t it? So why did her heart hurt like it did with the knowledge that he was gone? She hoped it was just from the poison.

“How long was I …� she finally asked, not opening her eyes.

“Ten days,� a different voice answered, and Skyler nearly sprang from the bed to tackle him - her body had different thoughts though, and she collapsed against the pillow in a painful fit of coughing. It didn’t matter, because Cael was at her side when she stopped, and Skyler couldn’t remember ever feeling more relieved.

“They said y’might not wake,� he confided quietly, “I couldn’t let them give up…�

“But you left,� Skyler accused him, although she had taken his hand and clung to it as if he might leave again any moment, “You weren’t here. Hawk said you’d gone.�

“It’s the first time he even left this room since we found you,� Hawk clarified, his voice soft, “We could barely get the lad to eat, he was so worried.

Skyler looked up at Cael, a smile bending her cracked lips as he looked away, seeming suddenly very interested in the candle as his pale cheeks turned rather pink at Hawk’s revelation. Her stomach growled loudly, and she struggled into a sitting position, although when she got there (with much help from Cael) she leaned heavily against him, her fingers still interlaced with his.

“If I eat, I bet he’ll eat,� she surmised.

[Inkfinger]

Ten days.

Ten days had never felt like such an eternity, not even when he was down in the pit, unable to tell day from night. In those long nights and days, he’d only had himself to worry about - they’d taken away everyone he’d cared for.

But now he had someone else to worry about, someone who had spent the last ten days (and three hours, ten minutes, thirty-five seconds, the wind-up clock on the mantel said) pale, pitiful and small against and underneath the pile of quilts. He’d slept there - gradually going from curled up at the foot of the bed in a way pulled at cuts and bandages uncomfortably (but left him feeling safe) to the leggy sprawl he'd always had before when his body finally realized no one was going to wake him with a kick in the ribs - those ten days, not wanting to leave or let Skyler out of his sight, even when he heard the other men talking in hushed tones.

Especially when he'd heard them talking.

Ludvik didn't think she'd wake up.

Cael only ever left the room to do the necessary things: relieve himself, bathe (lots of that; Ludvik had joked one of the first nights that he was going to drain the well dry. He had stopped laughing when he’d seen how red Cael had scrubbed his skin) and (once) to get his lank hair chopped off, when it became evident that no amount of washing would ever make it feel natural. Eating had somehow slipped that almost completely off that list, though he’d managed to gulp down some of the soup that his brother spent most of his time shoving at him.

He'd been out, again, at Ludvik's urges, under the guise of another bath. Ludvik kept a huge kettle on the stove almost constantly now, between Cael's compulsive washing and the need to keep the hot water bottles at the foot of Skyler's bed filled. He'd dumped it into a wooden tub unquestioningly, with an ease that sent a pang of jealousy coursing through Cael. He was slowly growing stronger, but many things were still too much for his abused frame. He dumped a shovel or two of the late-winter snow into the tub to cool it down, and then left, drawing the curtain closed again.

And Cael spent the next hour scrubbing every inch of skin roughly, and his hair twice. No matter how often he washed the short-shorn locks, he could still feel others' greasy hands carding through it, tugging and yanking. He shuddered, and dunked his head under, feeling the burn of soap in his eyes, and not caring a bit. He stayed in the tub until the water had gone cold, and then struggled into Ludvik's too-big clothing without bothering to towel off. His pack still held most of his belongings - his books and his papers and his pen - but his clothes had been a lost cause. That was alright, though. They would have smelled of dust and the strange, arcane coldness of the store room that had saturated the leather of his pack.

He padded barefoot up the hall, Ludvik's patched, faded clothes clinging to him from the dampness, and his hair sticking up in spikes like a drenched dandelion, intent on returning to his vigil. He paused halfway down the hall, cold seeping into his feet through the carpet and the woolen socks alike. He could hear voices. Voices, and then a horrendous coughing jag that sent him into motion down the hall, heart beating a frantic tattoo against his ribs.

She's awake! She's alive!

He practically flung himself through the door, feeling his body ache in protest, and gleefully ignoring the slight burning pains in his legs. His rescuer looked awful as she coughed, eyes closed tightly: pale and weak and watery around the edges.

But at that moment, with the golden glow candlelight catching along her jawline and in the curves of her face, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Hawk didn't say a word when he clambered onto the bed, taking Skyler's hand as if he frantically needed reassured that she was, in fact, awake. He'd had a few complaints at first, but once the older man had realized he meant absolutely no harm he hadn't protested again. Perhaps he'd realized that if the assassin was dead, if she never woke up, Cael would most likely fall to pieces too small to be glued together again.

He was moments away from apologizing for leaving, even for that short time, when Hawk spoke, defending him. Cael felt his face flush from the unexpected tenderness, pleased, somewhere deep in his brain, that he could still feel embarrassment. He kept his eyes on the candle, feeling Skyler's hand slide into his. When he met her eyes, they were still fever-bright, but this time her stare was lucid, and when he helped her sit up, her weight on his side felt like it belonged there.

"I could eat," he admitted with a small smile, lacing his fingers through Skyler's again. Hawk grinned, and vanished through the door. Cael leaned his head on Skyler's for just a moment, kissing her hair before he sat upright. Now that she was actually awake...

He glared at Ludvik, allowing some of the frustration of the last days into his eyes. "See? See?" His voice sounded borderline hysterical now, sitting there with Skyler grinding his knuckles together with the force of her grip. It hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that reminded him that he was alive. The wounds on his back were starting to fade now that they weren't being constantly reopened and abraded. His wrists and ankles just itched, new skin forming under the scabbing there. They would all, likely, scar; but that was a small price to pay for being alive. Skyler would have been too big a price. And, for a little while, they'd all been afraid that she was the price they would pay. "I told you she'd wake up. I told you she'd not give up!"

Ludvik had started to make the comments (Cael, you have to understand; there's a chance she won't ever come to. Hemlock's tricky, she might have suffo-) four days ago. Cael had, with the utmost maturity, covered his ears and refused to listen to the rest. If he didn't hear it, then it couldn't happen, couldn't become reality. It hadn't kept him from having nightmares of waking with the bed empty, save for the discarded handmade ventilator. Each time he woke up panting, as if by breathing hard he could force Skyler to fight for her breath.

Ludvik just smiled now, leaning outside the door in his usual haunt. "So you did," he admitted, his deep voice warm and some of the worry-drawn lines fading from his face. His strawberry blond hair had strands of gray that Cael hadn't noticed before his prison time - was it new, or had he simply been unobservant? His eyes - a darker, brighter blue than Cael's snow-pale - lit on Skyler. "You had us," he jerked his thumb down the hall, in the direction Hawk had vanished, "just about pulling our hair out." There was thanks unspoken laced around his words, in the tone of his voice. Cael just sprawled on the bed, content to cling to Skyler's hand. "If...if I'd had my way, we'd have left days ago, but my little brother was having none of it." The smile faded away at his admittance, and he cast an awkward half-bow in the doorway. "For that, you have my apologies. I beg your forgiveness."

Skyler still looked feverish, but she seemed to be thinking about Ludvik's words for a long moment. Ludvik held his breath, as serious as Cael had seen him when he'd first suggested they'd leave Skyler to her fate; perhaps even more so. He let out a long, relieved sigh when she nodded, curtly, and the smile returned, for all the world like a sun coming from behind a cloud.

"I'm, ah. I'm going to go see if Hawk needs any help." He gave them one last beaming smile before disappearing down the hall after the other man. Cael waited until the sound of his brother's footsteps had faded before he looked down at the girl leaning against his ribs.

"You really had us scared, you know..." He paused for a second, one hand creeping up to play with a wayward, sweat-limp lock of her hair. "You really had me scared."

[skyler manfield]

She was still too exhausted to try to calm Cael’s almost violent outburst at his elder brother, so she satisfied herself with watching the emotions pass unhidden over his face as he defended the hope he’d held onto for the last ten days she’d been unconscious. He’d bathed, to the point of making his skin raw, and Skyler realized just how translucent his pale skin was. But it looked like most of his wounds were scabbed and healing now, the dirty grime no longer threatening infection.

Ludvik remained serene in the face of Cael’s vehement shouting, simply agreeing with his brother’s accusations. When he turned his gaze on Skyler, she attempted to straighten herself a bit, eyes narrowing and studying his rather cryptic expression as he apologized, asking forgiveness - but had he really been wrong to give up? Hadn’t she given up - willing to succumb to the darkness the Hemlock had submerged her into? The likelihood of anyone surviving Hemlock poisoning was slim, it didn’t take an assassin to figure that out, and expecting someone to awake after they’d given in to the poison - well that was just ridiculous optimism. But apparently it was optimism Cael had clung to.

Cael’s brother was still standing there, waiting on her response, and Skyler finally nodded. Ludvik smiled, the first time she’d ever seen him do so, and she looked from his face to Cael’s hoping to see a mirrored smile there. As she finally glanced back to the doorway, Ludvik was making an excuse to go. She watched as he disappeared down the narrow hallway, his boots causing his footsteps to echo from the hardwood planking of the floor. In the common room, where he had joined Hawk, she could hear the two of them talking, their voices almost cheerful, sharing laughter as though they’d known each other for years - it seemed likely they had.

“Of course, scaring you was my plan, you know. Have to keep you on your toes, or you might not realize just how special I am,� Skyler joked sardonically at Cael's accusation, pulling away from him a bit, self-conscious of her lank hair that stuck to her forehead - his was short and stuck up here and there, “I didn’t really think you’d throw Hemlock in my face when there were knives in the bag that weren’t poisonous.�

Her lips twitched a smile, a twinkle in her eye as she pulled her hand from his and tentatively reached out to smooth a particularly spikey strand of hair. As he flinched away from her, she frowned, but didn’t move her fingers from his head.

“You cut it,� she noted, “Feels better, I guess?�

The words wouldn’t come out, not the right ones. Not the ones thanking him for hoping against all odds that she’d survive. Not the words telling him that he was the last thing she’d thought of when she thought she was finished. Not even the ones begging him not to leave again, even though she knew he had to. Just meaningless words about haircuts, and an urge to joke or laugh to cover up the inability to say what she really wanted to say.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. The two had been through enough together that they should have surpassed awkwardness. Whether their relationship could be considered romantic, or something else, she wasn’t sure, and perhaps that was what made things so strange between them, but it shouldn’t matter. Nobody knew their story, and probably nobody would. It was something they shared, a chain that bound them together stronger than those which had bound Cael in that cell beneath Knife’s Edge. And there was no lock or key on this chain.

She looked up at Cael’s face again, her fingers tracing down his jaw, her eyebrows knitting together as she finally let her hand drop back to her lap. Perhaps she was wrong, perhaps she didn’t need words to share between them. Skyler let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, realizing that he knew enough about her, that she probably didn’t have to say a word for him to untangle the mess that was in her head at the moment.

Skyler knew now how he must have felt when she first came into his prison cell, though. The assassin hadn’t bathed since sometime before she went into the underbelly of the Cathedral, and she could smell herself, the acrid stench of fear and sickness clinging to the linen shift that covered her thin frame. Her skin felt sticky, her eyes gritty, and her mouth slimy, prompting her to drag the heavy quilt up further as though she could cover the grime.

“I need a bath,� she sighed, trying hard not to sound as if she was complaining, but it was true, “I smell terrible. I don’t see how you can stand to sit here next to me - I don’t even want to sit here.�

“You should eat first,� Cael told her, apparently able to ignore the smell, or at least pretend he didn’t mind, “Then you can worry about the bath part, if you’re even strong enough.�

Nodding acquiescently, Skyler glanced to the bowl that Ludvik had left steaming on the table when he’d first come in the room earlier. It smelled like fish stew, and her stomach growled again. When Cael took the bowl, lifting a spoonful of the broth and blowing on it, she raised an eyebrow. Did he plan to feed her like a child?

“I can do it myself,� she insisted weakly, reaching up with a shaking hand to take the spoon. It wasn’t the best argument, and as she tried to pull the spoon from his hand and nearly dropped it, Skyler pouted, realizing she’d lost that battle. If she couldn’t even feed herself, how the hell was she supposed to bathe? She glowered at Cael as he laughed at her frustration with her own weakness.

“Just shut up and feed me,� she snipped at him, knowing he’d never let her live this down.

[Inkfinger]

“Of course,� he said quickly, though he couldn’t completely hide his smile. He reclaimed the spoon, scooping up some of the stew. Ludvik was a half-decent cook (they all were; as their mother tended more towards the fishing side of the business. It had always been either learn to cook, or trust their father to cook. The former had seemed, unanimously, less dangerous.)

He looked to the girl – no, young woman – sulking in the bed, and his smile broadened mischievously. He blew on the stew once, scooting closer to Skyler as he did.

“Open up,� he said, in the teasing, sing-song voice generally reserved for nieces and nephews, waving the spoon under her nose. “Here comes the airship, heading towards the treacherous pass, chugga chugga chug…� Skyler’s return look sent an exaggeratedly pitiful expression to his face. “…ga. Alright, no airship. Choo choo train?� The suggestion only earned him another look. “Ferry boat?� He looked at the spoon, pretending to think. When he glanced up again, a tiny smile was tugging at the corners of Skyler’s mouth. “No? Uhm. Very small dragon, perhaps?�

She giggled at that one, a short snicker; quickly swallowed by a dirty look that was trying to hard to be genuine. “Aha!� He crowed. “A dragon! It’s a food carrying dragon, or…�

“You know, Cael,� Skyler retorted, dryly, “it could be a spoon?�

“…or it could be a spoon!� Cael agreed, readily, satisfied that he’d got her to laugh. He narrowed his eyes. “But if you don’t use it, the stew’s going to get cold, and then Ludvik will come back and pitch a fit about us wasting food. You don’t want to see Ludvik when he’s angry.� He paused, unintended seriousness creeping into the moment.

His brother had been furious, days ago, when he’d had a chance to be. It hadn’t been about anyone he could get at; it had been directed at the Church, by way of the abandoned knickknacks of this little house. He could still hear them shattering against the stonework of the kitchen floor, though Ludvik had thought he was asleep. On one hand, it was good to know his brother cared.

On the other, it was sobering. They had a lot to work through, it seemed, before things returned to even a semblance of normal.

He shook his head, physically throwing the thoughts off, and re-focused on his friend. The stew in the spoon was gone, and now Skyler was watching him, her arms still crossed, her bottom lip sticking out petulantly.

“Well? If you’re going to feed me, you might as well get on with it, or your food delivering dragon might be the one to pitch a fit.�


*

In the end, she managed to eat well over three-quarters of the stew before she collapsed back to the pillows in a fit of sputtering, unable to finish. He thought for a moment about, maybe, pushing his luck and trying the “just three more bites� trick, but…his four year old nieces and the fierce-eyed woman in the bed were two very different things.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?� He leaned to set the bowl on the table before turning back to Skyler. “Now, you have a choice. More sleep, or we can get you wash-�

“Bath.�

“-ed up.� He paused, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He understood where she was coming from. His obsessive bathing was enough to attest to just how long it would take to feel clean, even without the extra layer of mental filth the time in the cell had added. But she wasn’t strong enough to bathe herself, and he couldn’t even begin to think of asking Ludvik to do that. Ludvik had been bad enough with him. And he couldn’t ask Hawk. He’d almost got the man’s charge killed, after all. It didn’t seem right. “Are you su-�

“Yes,� she said, interrupting again. He opened his mouth to protest, but she kept going. “Now.� She gave him another sea-grey look that made his heart skip a beat, mostly out of sheer relief. Her eyes were so alive now, so different from ten days ago; now her gaze was alert, intelligent and ever-so-slightly wary, like a cornered wolf. The wariness was beginning to fade. He only prayed he’d be around long enough to see it banished altogether. “Please?�

“Uhm.� Cael was almost surprised to find the blush from earlier coming back as he toyed with the spoon. “I…guess?� Skyler was eyeing him, and he looked away, staring at his distorted face reflected on the green-tinged silver. “I just. You’ll, uh. Need help. And…�

“And you’ll give it to me,� Skyler said, matter of fact, her tone leaving no room for arguments. “I smell like a pigsty, I feel horrible, and there is a bathtub in this place.� With each word she held up a finger, like she was explaining something to a child. He couldn’t help the smile that crept to his lips at the role reversal. “Now is not the time for you to start being all shy and modest again.� She lowered her hand, but didn’t cross her arms again. “Got it?�

“Yes milady,� he snipped back, throwing in what had to be the sloppiest salutes in the history of Salvar for good measure. He stood, collecting the bowl from the table and catching another glimpse of narrowed eyes as he did. This time, he couldn’t resist the urge to continue teasing. He gave a deep, elaborate bow, and spoke with the most sophisticated accent he could fake. “I shall inform madam when her bath has been drawn…�

He barely managed to dodge the flung pillow as he ducked into the hallway, laughing all the while.

Ludvik and Hawk both looked up from the map on the table when he entered the kitchen, heading for the back door. “Did you actually get her to eat?� Ludvik asked, turned in his chair.

“Mhm,� Cael returned, opening the door to retrieve a couple buckets of snow from the lean-to. “And, uh. Now she wants a bath…� He let the sentence trail off like a request. Ludvik’s eyes widened in an emotion that looked very much like panic.

“Woah, now, Cael, I can’t, I’ve got Frida to think of, and it just doesn’t look right, and if she ever heard tell of it she’d box me ‘round the ears and-�

Cael sighed, cutting into his brother’s babbled litany of excuses. “I wasn’t going to ask, ‘vik. I’m going to help her. I just need water.� He could have laughed at the relief that sailed across his brother’s features, or at Hawk’s smirk, but he simply drew himself up to his full height. “Now, if you don’t mind.�

He turned on his heel and headed back to the washroom, limping just a bit. The small room was still humid from his bath, but the iron stove crackling merrily in the corner had kept it from getting cold. He set the buckets under the curtained window, and moved to the tub. The water in it had gone lukewarm, and the layer of soap scunge covered the entire surface. He tipped the tub on its side, letting the water slosh down the grate before he set it back up, trying not to think.

It wasn’t really that bad, was it? Modesty and all that? He was a gentleman, and he’d never really thought about women (or anyone for that matter) in that way before; in the way that really admitted that bodies had uses other than…well. Simply living. That simple fact had ended several relationships in the past, to tell the truth. There were some things that tended to scare off potential partners – sitting in what might pass for a personal strip show and working on a crossword puzzle instead of paying attention to one’s surroundings tended to be one of those things.

The thought that people would respect that fact that his mind didn’t work like that had died a brutal, disillusioned death beneath the Citadel.

But then Skyler had come along, and the thought that maybe –just maybe- it did work like that, but only for the precisely right person had grown to replace that original, murdered thought, pushing out the humiliation and fear at the same time.

Regardless, he thought dryly as he dug through one of the cabinets to recover the tiny, rubber floating dragon he’d found earlier, right now, she just wants a bath. You can sort out the tangled mysteries of the universe and your brain later.

Ludvik chose that moment to appear in the doorway, lugging the one of the steaming kettles. “Would you get out of my way?� He huffed. “This thing weighs as much as a cow.�

Cael obeyed, amused. Ludvik stepped into the room, letting Hawk into view as well. The other man had the other kettle, and was carrying it with far more dignity than Cael’s whiny big brother. He disappeared silently once the kettle was dumped into the tub, but Ludvik paused halfway through the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t have done,� he said, smirking just a bit. Cael rolled his eyes, holding the tiny dragon toy up.

“That doesn’t mean a dam thing, ‘Vik,� he replied, a slight whine in his voice, “But don’t worry. I’ve got a chaperon.�

His brother laughed aloud, patted the dragon on the head, and vanished down the hall. Cael shook his head, and set the dragon on the side of the tub, perched there grinning. “What’re you laughing at?� He teased, feeling silly for talking to the toy, but not really caring in his relief at the day. He held his hand over the water, whistling at the heat rising from it before dumping a double handful of snow in.

It took several such handfuls to cool the water down enough. He stood, ignoring the wet patches on his knees, and fetched a clean washcloth from the small pile atop the shelves. He then lit the remaining candles in the washroom off the two already lit, watching the tiny golden-white flames flicker before he realized he was stalling.

Only then did he steel himself, and return to the bedroom.

He ducked the second incoming pillow just in time, grinning, and pretending not to notice the dark circles under Skyler’s eyes. He knew how she felt, relatively speaking. “It’s ready,� he said, abandoning the thought of continuing the earlier teasing. “Can you stand?�

“I think so.� She pushed the covers off, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood, it was on her own, though her knees were wobbling. She looked at him with a crooked smile that looked like it hurt more than she was letting on. “I could use a little help, though.�

“’course,� he replied casually, as if she wasn’t shaky, or about to fall on her face without his help. “Come on, let’s get you washed…� they had limped halfway through the door before he let the teasing tone sneak back into his words. “…Princess Stinky.�

If Hawk and Ludvik heard the carefully controlled smack - or the howls of almost-hysterical laughter - echoing up the hall, they chose to ignore it.

…And that was probably for the better.

[skyler manfield]

The levity was a relief, joking and smiling, for a moment forgetting how close they had come to never escaping the prison, how near she had come to succumbing to the Hemlock thrown in her face. As she tottered down the hall with Cael supporting her though, she realized just how much all the laughter and play had cost her. She was exhausted now after such a brief time of activity, and it was all she could do to remain standing as Cael peeled the grimy shift off of her. In all honesty, Skyler was too tired even to be embarrassed of her nakedness.

With great effort she lifted one foot and then the other, sliding down into the steaming water, and as a great sigh of ecstasy slipped through her chapped lips, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the rim of the deep copper tub. For a long while, the assassin simply lay there, the grime and sweat of fear and sickness seeming to melt off in the scalding water. The heat left her pale cheeks flushed and dewy.

The fire crackled cheerily in the tiny fireplace in the corner of the washroom, and the steam rising from the tub left the air between Cael and Skyler hazy and dreamlike. She let herself slip down beneath the surface of the water, her hair lifting and swirling above her, silence enveloping once more. Bubbles made their way to the surface and finally she was forced to sit back up with a satisfied gasp, the water streaming from her hair and down her face.

“Cael?� her voice wavered a bit, both from exhaustion and a bit from nerves - she was trying not to notice the fact that she her body was only shielded from his eyes by the vague milkiness of whatever had been added to the bath.

He looked over at her, then looked quickly away again, cheeks flushing as the water lapped down below the tops of her breasts for a moment. She slid a bit further down in the tub, pulling her knees up out of the water.

“You have to leave.�

This time when he looked at her, he didn’t look away, instead staring at her with wide blue eyes, the hurt apparent on his face. It took her several seconds to process the expression on his pale face, and another few to understand why there was hurt in his eyes. He had already started to stand before Skyler could correct herself.

“Not now, dunderhead,� she reached an arm out toward him, grabbing hold of the pocket of his trousers and pulling him back to his stool, “I meant you can’t stay here in Salvar, it’s not safe. Besides, I need you to help me bathe.�

“Oh,� he managed a sheepish smile, but said no more as he reached for a cloth hanging on the rack of towels behind the tub. He remained silent as he took her arm and began to gently scrub the smudges of dirt from her hand and worked his way upward to her shoulders, his eyes distant. Skyler closed her eyes and let her own thoughts drift, wishing she hadn’t told him to leave but knowing he couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t be long before the Church tracked him down, and she knew there would be no extended imprisonment this time - they’d drag him to the nearest town square and hang him. She shook the thought from her head and looked at Cael who seemed just as absorbed in his own thoughts. Her eyes scanned his face wondering what was going on behind those eyes the color of glaciers - must have been important, his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together, and he’d been scrubbing at the same spot on her back long enough that it was starting to hurt.

“Copper for your thoughts,� her voice was soft as it broke the silence, but a loud snap from a collapsing log on the hearth punctuated her words and startled Cael out of his reverie.

“They aren’t worth a copper,� he replied, his eyes focusing on her face, but his solemn expression did not change.

“Must be worth something,� she smiled a bit, lifting a hand to pull his hand way from her, holding his wrist, “You’ve been washing the same spot for the last five minutes. What’s going on in there?�

He shrugged as she tapped a finger on his forehead, but she managed to get a brief smile out of him. The assassin realized it was that smile, so rare and hard to win, that she would miss most. The thought of never seeing it again was almost painful, and she leaned forward, folding her arms on the edge of the tub and resting her head on them, the whole of her back exposed to the warm air of the washroom.

“Could you … “ the words were as jumbled as her thoughts, and her heart pounded like a tympani against her ribs, she wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this, “Maybe you’re thinking you want to… just might … like… kiss me? Just a little bit? Or something?�

Long lashes brushed her cheeks as she looked down at the terra cotta tiles on the floor, avoiding his eyes. What was she thinking? Those were not the words she had intended to come out, but now they were loose between them, and part of her prayed he would laugh them off. A bigger part prayed that had been exactly what he was thinking.

[Inkfinger]

Cael helped Skyler out of her clothes, keeping his eyes averted as best he could. He’d seen women naked before – there was, generally, no modesty in traveling performers – but it still didn’t quite feel right. He tossed the formerly-white shift in the corner. It, like his original clothes, was too far gone to be washed. It would probably need burned. He eased her into the tub, finally feeling safe enough to look at her once she was under the water.

She’s so thin… Compared to his sister and sisters-in-law, she was practically tiny. The ten days spent in her poison-induced coma had probably exacerbated the problem, but she had the lean, hungry build of someone who hadn’t really spent much of her life having decent food. He was willing to bet that if she were out of the water, he’d be able to count every rib…

You never really realized how good your childhood was, did you?

“Cael?�

Her voice drew him from his uneasy reverie with a blush when he realized where he’d been staring. Her next words, however, were what sank into his skin like poisoned ice, as damaging as the hemlock. You have to leave…

Had she noticed his staring, then? Had she... I didn't mean...I didn't think she would be uncomfortable about it, not after....

Cael shook the thoughts off almost physically, standing up. He’d opened his mouth to say anything, to try and apologize, when she reached out and grabbed his pocket, leaving further wet patches on the worn blue fabric. Her actions didn’t really process, at first, until he forced the pain from his mind and listened.

"...stay here in Salvar, it’s not safe. Besides, I need you to help me bathe."

See? She didn't...it had nothing to do with that. She just cares for you. Stop jumping to conclusions.

“Oh,� he said, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and an almost-giddy relief. He took up the nearest washcloth before he could betray that emotion, gently scrubbing the dried sweat and dirt from her arm.

There was something almost sensual about this: in the sharp but clean scent of the soap, and the way the dirt melted away beneath the washcloth, leaving soft pale skin in its wake; something seductive in the act of cleansing, but at the same time pure and right in the way his friendship with Damyan had felt, something that hadn’t existed in his soul for the last three months…

But even that couldn’t draw his thoughts away from what she had said. You have to leave… She was right. Undoubtedly, between the remnants of civil war and the confusion of Reznik’s death the church was unbalanced, but…they lived and died by their examples. There wouldn’t even be a show trial this time. Just a tree or a steeple or a signpost and a too-short length of too-tight rope. He shuddered.

But what if I don’t want to leave? His hands had gone still against her shoulder, the washcloth rubbing back and forth at the reddened skin. I could come to like it here. I could come to like it being with her…

Because that was what it came down to in the end, wasn’t it? If he left here, he would have to leave her, so soon after he’d found her.

“Copper for your thoughts,� she teased, drawing him from those very thoughts again, teasingly, her wet fingertips hot and gentle on his bony wrist. She left water dripping off his forehead when they brushed there. It was almost a reversal of their roles in the cell – him, silent; her, wanting to know what he thought. He managed a smile at that.

But that can be a problem when I don’t even know what I’m thinking…

He did know, though, and that was what made it worse in some respects. His thoughts had drifted back to snow and panic, and the desperate, irrational kiss. Her lips weren’t grey now – they were pink, full of the life that he’d feared lost. They looked soft, even when curled up in a small, teasing smile.

Like now.

The water sloshed around her bare shoulders as she shifted in the tub. The sound practically swallowed her nervous words, spoken low, rambling and hesitant in the sleepy warmth. It felt like he was listening underwater, each word taking its precious time to sink in and be comprehended. Her grey eyes flicked up at him, wide and full of a yearning he was not used to seeing directed towards him.

He found himself, for the first time in a long time, searching for just the right words words. He waited a second too long, long enough for something to dim behind the innocent desire – and that dimming felt like a loss in his soul.

“Skyler, I…�

“You don’t have to apologize,� she said, a little too harshly for her anger to be real. “I under-�

“No, no no no.� he interrupted, reaching out to tuck a lock of dripping hair behind her ear as he slid off the stool, feeling lukewarm water seeping through the knees of his trousers. “I was going to …� Soft-storm eyes fixed on his again, and he almost lost his will to speak. His hand lingered on her cheek, and this, this felt right. He cleared his throat, somehow holding the stammer at bay as the words rushed out.

“I was going…going to…oh, hells, I was going to do this.�

He ducked down, painfully aware that his hands were shaking, and brushed his lips against hers, feeling clumsier than he had in years.

[skyler manfield]

Her heart stuttered for a moment, the same quavering beat it had when the hemlock had become too much for her system to overcome. Of course he didn’t want to kiss her - besides, she berated herself, it’s not like you wanted him to kiss you anyway. But the assassin couldn’t convince herself that particular lie even vaguely resembled the truth. She waved him off when he finally spoke, interrupting - she couldn’t stand to hear his consolation.

The last thing Skyler expected then, was for him to kneel beside the tub, his pale face level with hers, his words almost as stilted as hers had been. Cael’s tone forced her to meet his gaze, and she looked up, afraid of what she would see there. His hand came to rest on her cheek, cool against the dewy warmth from the bath.

As she lifted her hand to cover his, he dipped his face to hers, their lips just barely meeting. Their lips were both a little chapped, but his were softer than she had expected, and she held his hand to her cheek as he started to pull away. The fire still crackled on the hearth, the water gently lapped against the sides of the tub, laughter echoed down the hall - but Skyler’s ears rang a bit loudly, she didn’t hear those sounds. Leaning her forehead against his, she found herself staring at his mouth, her eyes tracing the lines of his lips.

Raising her chin a bit, her lips met his again, this time neither of them reacting in surprise or uncertainty, only with the inevitable quickening of hearts and breath. Why in the world had she told him to leave and then asked him to kiss her? He had at some point lifted his other hand, and it now rested almost protectively at the base of her skull, its partner sliding from beneath hers to gently circle the back of her neck.

The sound of the door opening startled them both back into awareness, and with a slight splash, she pulled away from Cael as Hawk stuck his head into the washroom. A knowing smile grew on his face, a raised eyebrow aimed at Skyler causing her to blush furiously.

“Sorry to interrupt,� he chuckled, glancing over at Cael, “Just wanted to make sure our girl was alright in here. Looks as though you’ve got things under control though, lad.�

With a wink, he pulled the door back shut, the sound of his laughter fading down the hall behind him. The moment was shattered, and they sat there for a moment in silence. Skyler lifted a hand to her face, her fingers touching her lips as though to hold the imprint of his mouth on hers just a little longer.

“Water’s getting colder,� she murmured, breaking the silence, “Help me out?�

Cael nodded and pulled the towel from the rack, taking her hand and helping her stand. With both hands heavy on his shoulders and leaving damp handprints in their wake, she stepped from the tub and into the warmth of the waiting towel - and his arms. Skyler tried not to shake as she leaned against him, her face barely inches from his. For a moment they stood there, but when she was reminded once more by the sound of a slamming door down the hall of Cael’s impending departure, she swallowed her hesitation and lifted her lips to his again. He was taller than her, but not so much that she had to stand on tiptoe to reach his mouth.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,� her voice was soft as she finally stepped away, putting the activity of drying off between them, “I probably won’t ever see you again, will I…?�

[Inkfinger]

Hawk might have been indirectly responsible for saving his life, might have been the reason he’d met Skyler in the first place, but right about that time Cael could have quite happily punched him in the teeth.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. All the women he’d ever been with hadn’t so much as made him bat an eyelash, or been able to drag him away from his words – whether that was his failing or their failing, he would probably never know.

Skyler’s kiss, however, had sent a wave of warmth through his entire being: body and soul and mind alike; something that was more than just the dichotomy of tender and rough from her chapped lips. He wanted to hold her close, and never let her go…

But he had to.

And the thought almost hurt.

“I wish I didn’t have to go, too…� he said, his voice steadier than he would have expected under the circumstances. “But…if they find me and I’m with you…� He didn’t finish. She knew. And the only thought that terrified him more than dying alone was the thought of not dying alone, the thought of another person dear to him dying for his stupidity. “And you will see me again, if I have anything to say about it.�

And I plan to have a very large say in that.

She stared at him for a moment before looking away, draping a towel over her head to scrub at her hair. He brushed tentative fingers across her warm, bare shoulder before taking a step away.

“I’ll be right back.�

He left her toweling, stepping into the hall. He stood leaning against the wall for a moment, forehead against the cool wood. That moment was spent trying not to listen to Ludvik packing up his belongings in the bedroom, or the way he was laughing and joking with Hawk. He didn’t want to think about leaving, didn’t want to think about running for once.

You’re afraid you’re running away from her, aren’t you? He had no answer for his treacherous thoughts. You’re not. You’re running to make sure you have a chance at a future.

The thought galvanized him back into motion. He pushed away from the wall, swiping the suspicious moisture from his eyes, and turned down the hall.

There was a line of wooden hooks on the wall, generally used for wet towels. Clothes hung there now – things Hawk had brought for Skyler, and his own silk jacket, and the heavy woolen coat they’d stolen on the way out. He gathered Skyler’s clothes, and stared at his jacket for a moment.

A year and a half ago now, before he’d met Ingwe and the Dragon Hermit, before he’d been dragged kicking and screaming into darkness he hadn’t wanted to fight, his one-time Master had given him that jacket. It was a deep indigo blue, accented in silver - made of light silk but quilted to maintain some warmth, - and spelled to resist ink stains. It was the only clean clothing he had anymore, after so many years of writing and messy inky fingers. After the Cathedral, it was the only clothing he had anymore...

He pulled that off its hook as well, tossing it over his shoulder as he hurried back into the washroom. Skyler looked up as he held out her clean clothes.

“Hawk gave these,� he said, feeling a strange, embarrassment-free awkwardness as he did. The kiss had changed something between them; there was a familiarity that felt as if it had always been waiting to be there. “And…I’m giving this.� He held the jacket out, feeling the cool soft silk against his fingertips, snagging against the calluses and scabs that still decorated them. It still smelled of magic and dust, like the store-room under the cathedral.

“See, it’s…well. An old friend of mine gave it to me, and it’s...� He made a slight face. “It’s supposed to be good luck, if you believe that sort of thing.� Given his luck since he’d left his master’s training, he wasn’t about to believe word one of it. “But one thing’s for sure, I always manage to find it again. So. If…if you have it, that means I should be able to find you, right?�

It sounded horribly trite and clichéd now that he’d said it out loud, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. “Besides,� he added, reaching out to brush his thumb beneath her eye, gently as a butterfly, “The color goes pretty with your eyes.� He tugged a lock of her hair, teasingly. "I'm trustin' you not to rip it or anything..."

[skyler manfield]

As Cael stepped out of the room, leaving Skyler alone with her thoughts, she sat down on the stool with her towel wrapped around her shoulders. Tears stung her eyes, but she let them fall freely. He had sworn their separation wouldn’t be forever, but her heart still ached at the thought of goodbye. If it weren’t for the trust she’d come to have in him, she’d be all out sobbing at the moment - as it was she felt a bit foolish for crying. But it would be more foolish to deny how important he’d become to her in the short time they’d known each other.

Skyler got to her feet as he returned with clean clothes, not bothering to wipe away the tears that lingered on her cheeks. One step closer to his departure, one step closer to wondering and worrying every day until (she didn’t want to doubt it, so she wouldn’t say if) she saw him again. Sniffing, she reminded herself there was nothing to be done for it.

But he wasn’t just walking away. He was leaving her with something important enough to him that Cael had delayed their escape from beneath the Cathedral with the need to retrieve it. Skyler closed her eyes as he touched her face, and managed a smile as he tugged at her hair.

“You’d better find me again,� she said with a playful pout, “Or I will do my best to make sure it ends up in tatters - no matter how pretty it matches my eyes.�

It was unclear whether it was the bath or their kiss which had left her feeling stronger, but her legs didn’t feel quite so near to buckling, and her hands shook a little less as she began to take the pieces of clothing and slowly dress. The previous embarrassment and modesty had dissolved between them a few minutes earlier.

“C’mon,� she stood from pulling warm woolen stockings onto her feet and took the coat from him, carefully wrapping it around her shoulders before taking his hand, “I think it’s about that time.�

As if on cue, Ludvik pushed the door open and smiled grimly at them. Skyler nodded, clenching her teeth against more tears.

“It’s time,� Ludvik’s words echoed hers, “There’s a blizzard coming, and we want to make it to the portal before it hits.�

Skyler nodded and pulled Cael from the room, following Ludvik down the hall to the main room. Their few things were packed into a pair of backpacks by the front door, and the large coat they’d taken from Reznik rested atop the smaller of the two packs. Her hand tightened around Cael’s and she avoided Hawk’s sympathetic glance.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to look up, and Ludvik smiled at her (it didn’t quite reach his violet-blue eyes). Squeezing her shoulder he looked to Cael for a moment before his gaze returned to her.

“I owe you so much more than I have to give,� he said by way of thanks, “You risked more than you should have to help someone you don’t even know. I’m eternally in your debt for returning my brother to me.�

Skyler shrugged and shook her head as though dismissing his gratitude. It was too heavy, and she still cradled the regret of taking so long to attempt to rescue this stranger she now felt so strongly connected to. Besides what did you say to such a speech of gratitude?

“Hawk,� Ludvik continued, turning to Skyler’s mentor who stood in front of the fire, “You take care of this girl, keep her out of trouble. I get the feeling Cael might take offense if you let anything happen to her.�

“I could say the same to you,� Hawk laughed with Cael’s brother, “Take care of yourselves, don’t make her daring rescue have been pointless. I’ll never hear the end of it.�

Hawk stepped closer and patted both Ludvik and Cael hard on the shoulder. It was what he always did instead of goodbye, and it left Skyler’s stomach in a sickened knot. Ludvik, returned the gesture, then turned to Skyler and hugged her as if she was one of his children. Skyler awkwardly returned the hug, never releasing Cael’s hand as she did so.

“Caelric?� his brother looked at him expectantly, moving to the door and shouldering his pack.

Skyler lifted her chin and tried to look brave as Cael turned to face her.

“You said you’d find me,� she reminded him in a quiet voice, “Please don’t let that be a lie… I hate goodbyes.�

[Inkfinger]

Cael’s reply was simple, and matter of fact, his eyes and voice as steady as a sturdy oak. “I don’t lie.� He held her gaze for a moment before his lips twitched, just a bit. “…alright, so maybe I do, just a bit…� Ludvik snorted. Cael’s head shot up, his eyes narrowed to a fierce glare at his brother. The older man pretended to flinch, raising his hands and taking a step back in surrender. Cael looked back to Skyler, drawing her close enough that he could rest his forehead against hers.

“Alright, so, maybe a lot,� he whispered. “But, dear heart, I have never told something more true.� His lips brushed her forehead, followed by his soft words. “I will find you.�

He reached down to catch one of her hands, interlocking their fingers as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “If it means traveling to Fallien or Scara Brae or Haida itself, I will. I swear by all the Saints…� He let that trail off, making a face. “Barring Denebriel, of course.� Even after all he’d been through, even after sixteen years of agnosticism, the omission felt edged with blasphemy.

If the gods and saints abandon you first, it’s not blasphemy; it’s survival.

Skyler just laughed, once; a small, watery-sounding chuckle that vibrated against his sternum as delicate as sparrows’ wings. “Of course,� she agreed, arms going around his waist. The motion, like the kiss, felt right. Her arms were warm, and…not gentle, not exactly, but they were worlds apart from everything he’d felt before. He shivered, slightly, leaning into her grasp. He could have stayed like that forever, but he finally brought his arms up between them, lifting her chin gently to brush one final kiss across her raised lips.

They tasted of fish stew and the bitter vestiges of the bath soap, but they also tasted like life and hope and things he had missed for almost too long for him to remember. He didn’t want this moment to end, because when it ended…

Ludvik cleared his throat, loudly, and Cael broke the kiss. He could feel the corners of his eyes stinging, feel something tight and strained in his throat. He felt stricken, down to his core, and the yearning look in Skyler’s eyes only made the feeling worse. But outside the window, over the assassin’s shoulder, he could see the first new flakes against the charcoal gray light of early evening. They were already falling fast, and the sky held the foreboding look that meant there was only more to come.

“We’ll meet again. I will find you,� he repeated. The words came out tinged with the embarrassing husk of unshed tears. He scrubbed his hand beneath his eyes, trying not to focus on the brand flashing into view, focusing on her stormy eyes instead. “I promise.�

“I’m gonna make sure he keeps that promise, too,� Ludvik interjected, looking pointedly towards the door. Cael finally, reluctantly, pulled away from Skyler. The young assassin crossed her arms around herself, and Cael’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to pull her into another hug and simply let the snow fall. “But we have to move. Now.�

Ludvik was right. Cael knew it, and he hated him for it. He reached out to take the stolen coat; shoulders slumped as he shrugged into the heavy garment. Ludvik hefted his pack, holding it until he had the coat buttoned up, and then handing it over. He spoke to Hawk, quietly, so soft that Cael couldn’t hear their words over the sudden buzzing in his ears.

No promise can control the world, he thought, staring at the floor as the two other men said their farewells. You can’t promise you’ll even survive getting out of the country, or that you’ll be able to find her…the world is a big place. He tried to shove the doubts down, viciously; but he still couldn’t quite hide the shiver that ran through him the moment his brother opened the door.

I might not, he countered his own thoughts defiantly, But I can sure as all stars try.

He vowed not to look back as Ludvik led him out into the snowy twilight, the remnants of the last snowstorm crunching underfoot like broken glass. Looking back could only bring about bad things, only serve to weaken his resolve, only depress and dishearten him. He squared his shoulders, walked as close to his full height as his still-battered body could; every limping step as dignified as he had ever managed.

He almost made it. Almost. They were nearly out of sight of the small house when he had the vivid mental picture of Skyler, standing in the window, watching only his back; seeing only him and Ludvik, disappearing into the wild and snow, not knowing if they’d ever meet again. One single, stinging-eyed blink and his mental picture switched places: her leaving, him watching, and the sorrow spiked through him like a knife.

Not looking back...that's a stupid superstition, isn't it?

He turned for just a moment, one hand raised, to wave farewell to the one lit cottage in this little snowbound village. Ludvik stomped on ahead. He'd made it to the ruined gates of the chapel before he stopped, suddenly realizing Cael wasn't on his heels any longer. Cael couldn't help the grin at his brother's shout, muffled in the snowy air.

"Oy, 'Ricci, you're as bad as a bleedin' teenager!" Cael dropped his hand, still unable to turn away, eyes fixed on the the golden glow of candlelight. The wind picked up, blowing a drift of snow across his feet. He sighed, and turned, only to see his brother mere feet away. There was sympathy and understanding in the older man's violet-tinged eyes. He cupped one rough hand against Cael's icy cheek with uncharacteristic tenderness. "She knows, you know, and neither of you will forget. You just need to leave it at that for now. It'll work out."

He smiled, tightly, and then his eyes narrowed to near-slits. "Now. Get your scrawny ass moving and get that damn portal open before I leave you here to become an ice cube." He spun on his heel and trudged off down the street, muttering something unintelligible beneath his breath. Cael watched him go, took one final look at the cottage, and followed. The snow blew around him, the wind yowling like a demon's cries, and he almost thought he could hear their words. But he had words of his own to counter as he finally woke the portal to carry them away.

I will see her again.

The portal flared once, and they were gone, leaving only the wind and the snow in their wake.








Requested Spoils
-Cael has regained access to the things he lost at the end of Byzantine (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17778), except for his clothes.
-Cael has given his inkproof coat to Skyler Mansfield.
-New clothes: a pair of leather boots, reinforced with steel over the toes and heels, loose denim trousers, and a sleeveless linen shirt given to him by his brother. They're all a bit wonky fitting, but better than nothing.
-Captain's Coat: A high-collared, wool long-coat (http://www.starius.com/photos/random/bgc-03.jpg) stolen from Captain Lev Reznik during their escape. The contents of the coat's pockets are listed below.
-Captain’s Insignia: The medals and rank pins formerly worn on Reznik’s coat. They consist of three medals (one eight pointed double star, one bird-of-prey, one cross-and-swords) and the stars-and-stripes of a Captaincy. He’s currently taken them off, and they stay in the pockets, though he is not against using them in case of disaster.
-Captain’s Papers: Reznik’s old leather wallet - mostly unremarkable, except for the travel papers and the parchment claiming he is a Captain of the Church and according him the privileges of his supposed rank. Only useful in areas where they don't look too closely at papers.
-Lighter: a steel-and-flint Zippo-style lighter (half the fluid gone).
-Cigarettes One and a half packs (mediocre quality).
-Flask: a steel flat flask (empty).
-backup keyring: containing keys for the cells below the Cathedral. (Useless unless actually in cathedral).

[skyler manfield]

Hawk didn’t so much as snigger this time when Cael kissed Skyler. It was light, almost as if he was only stepping out to run errands - maybe pick up some milk at market, chop some firewood, have a drink at the tavern - but, she reminded herself, he wasn’t just stepping out for a moment. Her arms tightened around his waist, and she leaned her head against his shoulder until he started to pull away from her. She tried to stifle the pleading look she knew must be on her face. In her mind she knew he couldn’t stay, but her heart wasn’t so good at the common sense.

He promised he’d find her. He promised. His brother promised too. Skyler pushed from her mind the ways that promise could be broken. With a brave smile, she nodded, releasing him and gently pushing him away. As he shrugged on his coat and pack, she hugged herself tightly, afraid she might fall to pieces right there on the floor at his feet - maybe then he could pack her up in some butcher paper, tie a string around her and put her in his pocket to take with him. One fist clutched at the hem of his coat.

“Don’t say goodbye,� she warned him, afraid to say much more for fear her voice might shake and betray her crumbling heart, “I’ll see you again soon. Write me when you get where you’re going. So I know… “

She looked down, blinking tears from her eyes. Never in her life had anyone made her act like such a girl. Now here she was, crying and feeling like her world was about to walk out the door into the snow. It was a ridiculous thought, she tried to tell herself as Hawk returned from his quiet parley with Ludvik, pulling her back from Cael, and gently laying his arms around her shoulders.

Ludvik led the way out of the cottage, with Cael on his heels, and Skyler took a deep breath, extracting herself from Hawk’s arms and stepping over to the window where she pulled the curtain back. Dark was encroaching, sped on by the dark snow clouds that glowered sullenly overhead. The snow had already started to blow, occasionally impeding her view of the quickly disappearing Cael. She leaned her face against the window, grateful it was so cold against her cheek.

He stopped. Her heart leapt up to her throat like a startled rabbit, and sat there quivering. He turned around! A smile blossomed on her lips like a rose blooming in the middle of winter as he raised one hand in her direction, a seal on the promise. She lifted her own hand to the window pane, wondering if he could see her.

A gust of wind blew the snow around him in a disappearing act, but Skyler remained at the window, staring at the sliver of gold at the horizon where the sunset sliced its way weakly through the wintry shadows. From off to the left came a blinding flash of light, bouncing off the bottoms of the clouds. That would be the portal. They made it there safely, and now only the gods knew where they ended up. The assassin broke form and uttered a brief silent prayer to those gods, begging safe travel and quick reunion.

Letting the curtain fall, Skyler turned from the window. Once more she was tired, drained quickly both physically and emotionally, both from her weakened body and her wounded heart. With a rather loud sigh, she flopped into the lumpy brown armchair by the fire, propping her feet up on the hearth.

“You’ll burn ‘em,� Hawk pulled a stool over from the kitchen toward the fireplace and took a seat.

“Nah, I’ll pull them away ‘fore they catch fire. Always have,� she shrugged, but she did scoot them a couple more inches away from the hungry flames. Hawk watched her for a long while in silence, and she tried to ignore him as she tugged absently at a thread hanging from one sleeve. Finally, she could no longer stand his pitying gaze, “Why in all the frozen hells are you staring at me like that, ya damned blockhead?�

“I just…� Hawk jumped as she snipped at him, “I’m a wee bit surprised you’re handling this so well.�

“Why wouldn’t I be?� she tilted her head in confusion, “Should I be laying on the floor, kicking my feet and throwing a fit?�

“Well,� he replied slowly, “I did figure you to be sobbing about now after the way you two’ve been acting since you woke up.�

“I’ll see him again,� Skyler reminded him, “He promised.�

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, my dear,� Hawk shook his head, the pity returning to his weathered features, “You’ve a long road to recovery, and he’s a long road to safety. Chances aren’t the best for a reunion, no matter how good his intentions.�

Skyler didn’t even bother letting him get her upset. She just shrugged and smiled, pulling Cael’s coat a little tighter around her, although she wasn’t anything resembling cold here before the fire.

“He promised,� she said again, “You may not believe him or know him, but I do. He’ll find me.�

“I hope you’re right,� Hawk shook his head, deciding to drop the subject, “I’ll start working on supper.�

He stood and disappeared into the cellar, probably looking for potatoes or ale.

“I know I’m right,� she reassured no one in particular. But even though she somehow had no doubt that if he was physically able Cael would keep his promise, Skyler's heart still ached something fierce.



Requested spoils:


Cael's inkproof coat
The glass encrusted steel "mirror chain" which, when attached between two individuals, allows them to share magical abilities
The remainder of the poisons (one fatal dose each of Azaya’handra and Mallaku'akta, a full vial of Manikkali)

[Duffy]

By The Skin Of Our Teeth

Story: (22/30)

Continuity – 7, each post flows into one another towards the beggining, and the continuity building up to the conclusion is fantastic, but in the middle, when perspective switches between past, dream, present and between times it loses it’s shimmer.

Setting – 8, you’re hitting the ground not only running, but sweltering well paced. The region of Salvar and the civil war springs to life from the get go, taking it in it’s stride and not really ceasing to amaze me until the very end. You use multiple senses, from the acrid taste of pipes in the mouth to the physical senses touch and of course, plenty of oral (pun intended). My only criticism is that it is very reserved, whilst it is brilliant, you both play your cards right through. With such a good grasp of the techniques that make your writing great in this thread, why not throw a few oxymorons out there, be a bit more creative with metaphors to personify your character’s perceptions of the world. There is dialogue description in parts, but why not tie in your speeches to make more comment and wit and innuendo on your surroundings? I’m sure Cael can come up with remarks about long objects and voluptious bosom shaped door knockers any day of the week.

Pacing – 7, well paced, but detracted from itself in the length of the thread.

Character: (26/30)

Dialogue – 9, I am forever impressed with the quality of the dialogue in this thread, Inkfinger does it so naturally, and Skyler’s character leaps through the words at me with each line read. In terms of persona, it’s perfect, in terms of mechanics, it’s 99% accurate, in terms of fluidity, you could write the entire thread with dialogue and stage direction alone and it would still not detract from the overall impression. My only prevailant concern is with what I feel to be an over abundance of italics in Inkfinger’s dialogue. Whilst this is not really a bad thing, it enforces emphasis too often onto the reader that moulds the way I perceive the situation; the same effect could be implied with just one use of the technique, not every word in the sentence:



“That’s what I said. We’ve known. We were hoping they’d think the fact that we’ve not gutted you yet meant they were safe, that we didn’t know who they were, couldn’t get at them… certain parties, myself included,” Rezník had a cat’s grin as well – all flash and gleam and teeth, with no true happiness. “Were hoping they’d come back for you.” He shook his head, sadly. Cael watched out of the corner of his eyes as he continued.

Here is an example, the same effect could be applied with only italising the last ‘you,’ although I repeat myself, this does not detract from the world, it’s just a comment on something common throughout and hopefully an aid to getting the elusive ten next time. I really wouldn’t worry about, you could both hit 8 or 9 blindfolded I’m sure, terrific effort from you both here!
Out of curiosity, the underlined text, how is this supposed to be read? I read it as a prolonged stress, as if describing instructions to a dimwitted friend, but I ask only out of interest.

Action – 7, Here I find myself perplexed, as you hold such high esteem in the movements of your characters, in the ‘cat like grin’ flashed by Cael’s jailor, to the pacing of Hawk at the beginning of the thread, but fall apart from genius to simply damned good when it comes to the actual physical action itself. Having said that, it is through your character’s comments during the simple and direct description of movement, of patting down of trousers and nimble climbing that we get a better sense of direction. It’d be rude of me to attempt to comment on how to improve this, it’s a personal style you both employ very well, and something you should keep – I find often enough people (myself included) get too wrapped up in semantics and descriptive nuances they forgot to keep it altogether, you guys do it to the point of near flawlessness.

Persona – 10, I believe this is the first ten I have awarded, so a big congratulations to you both! (That might’ve been to Caden but we all know he tricked me into it with big words). This score is tied very heavily to dialogue and to the setting scores, which you’ve both poured peerlessly over to bring the identity and character of your characters to life. Skyler and Hawk’s effluent insecurity, Cael’s dream sequence, their little vices which carry them through the escape, all of these things and so so so so much more throughout the thread contribute to some of the best persona and character development I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

Cael’s insecurity in post 14 in describing the nature of dreams was a favourite highlight, as was the conversation between the characters which followed, really drew me into their psyche.

Writing: (25/30)

Technique – 7.5, Mastery of the basics, and of middle range and probably publishing techniques to boot. I mean no insult by this, but mastery of these basics does not a tight writing piece make. Whilst I hold the reverse issue, in that I can wield the more advanced stuff but fail on the basics, to truly reach the high marks for technique you need both present. Poetic rhythm and more daring description and metaphor are two ways in which you might achieve this, although I feel discovering the advanced stuff and writing them into your well developed writing is something you must do in your own time, in your own path to discovery.

Mechanics – 8.5, one or two minor run on sentences which weren’t out of ordinary but did jar, the only other thing from that was some clumsy uses of hypens to join paragraphs, and full-stop usage between dialogue and description of speech, which could come down to personal taste. I don’t think I saw a single typo, so you’ve both blatantly taken mucho pride in your writing and are an example to us all, (me especially!)

Clarity – 9, little to be said here, everything ran true, everything ran clear, and everything needed no more than one reading – in fact I read the thread through once and then wrote the judgement without referring back, each nigle and wondernment was glued to my retina – terrific!

Wild Card – 7, I’m being somewhat selfish here, but I’ll tell you why. I hate americanisations and the difference between the two ‘languages,’ I really do. I’m sure I’ve used them once or twice but it’s been through Word not detecting them and refusing to switch to U.K; another thing that didn’t give me reason to give you another 8+ is the use of modern day earth references, namely vodka. If you’ve gone so far in creating a world, it’s very easy to make up something that fits.

Total Score: 80/100

Skyler Manfield gains 2160 XP and 300 gold!

Inkfinger gains 2788 Xp and 300 gold!


Spoils:

Inkfinger –

Items lost during Byzantine have been reclaimed, although they are not in what you might call an ‘exact’ same condition as when they were lost – a bit of spit and polish should see them right as rain easily enough.

Possession of the coat has passed to Skyler Manfield, although this might attract certain looks from more close minded individuals – Cael might be effeminate, but it’s still very much a man’s cut of cloth.

Lev Revnik’s items are now in the possession of Cael, he will need to work on his accent and ‘trash talk’ to aid the espionage package, the good captain’s reputation will surely proceed him, and there’s been no talk of a strawberry blonde pillager and taker of women in these parts.

Paraphenalia and small items requested all approved and awarded, although sale of such items might be difficult in Salvar.

Bonus: Resilient Fool: Cael’s time in captivity has certainly helped improve his endurance. As a recumberant charmer and general rogue about town, his ability to endure harsh physical conditions has improved greatly, and he can now go longer without food or water than he could prior, and might even be getting the crasp of trying restraints for the purpose of ‘losing them’ when the moment is right. He thus has endurance at average level, and escape artist at below average, should he so wish to pursue these trying times.



Spoils:

Skyler Manfield –

You have gained possession of Inkfinger’s coat.

The loop chain is approved, but your friend does not know of a reciprical effect. Whilst the chain allows the exchange of magical abilities when held by two parties, prolonged use of the artefact can produce other side-effects – when held, if one party is injured, the other will feel the pain, but suffer no physical injury. For every time or ability used, the link grows, so that eventually, the two will begin to share abilities and learn from the other even when not holding the chain, but the pain split will grow, so that in time, the link can become fatal. Discovery of this effect will obviously come when either party is first injured; the link can be removed by someone who is considerably versed in curses and spiritual magic, so can be removed by a quest or other pursuit if required.

Without realising, you used far less poison than you remember, you have consumed half of the poisons during the thread, leaving you with one and a half doses, and a half a vial extra respectivaly.

Bonus: Unrequainted Passion – such is your attraction for Cael that whilst around him, should fate bring you back together, you perform much better and more valiantly, all movement, combat and skill based abilities increase by X1/2% when near Cael or when in the pursuit of a task set or for Cael. This effect will end when Cael either rebukes her properly, or when the love becomes requainted.

If you'd liek even more detailed feedback or a fine tooth comb of an analysis, or have any questions at all, please feel free to pm me or catch me on AIM/MSN or, now you've started stalking me Inkfinger, Facebook :p

This was a mighty pleasure I'd happily go through again, keep it up!

[Taskmienster]

[b] Exp and Gp added. [b]

[Max Dirks]

This thread has been chosen as a Judge's Choice. Congratulations!