18

“King me,” San said.

Azios scowled and flipped the wooden piece over to reveal a crudely drawn crown. He stared at the board between then and frowned at it.

“I’m losing,” he said.

“There’s no shame in that, Azios,” San replied. “It’s a new game you’re learning. You don’t need to be the best when you’re starting out, maybe after you’ve gotten a few games under your belt, you’ll be good at it.”

Cassa reached for the pieces before her and San deftly moved her out of the way, swinging her in his arms so that she looked at him laughing.

“I don’t like losing,” Azios said, searching the board for a move to make.

“No one does. But its a part of life. If you constantly win, you’ll never know defeat. Defeat is the greatest teacher of them all.”

“That’s stupid,” Azios replied. “Why would anyone want to know defeat?”

“Knowledge, Azios. When you are defeated or if you fail at something, you gain knowledge from it. Enough to pick yourself back up, to try again, or to try what you sought to do in a different way. That is how you build character, how you build strength of mind and soul.”

“You sound like a Corvanus priest,” Azios said. “They come to White Tower during Midwinter’s Reprieve, talking about how you have to be strong in mind and soul to fight the horrors of the void. Then again, you are an Adventurer, right?”

“So Pavano says,” San replied noncommittal.

“But not dedicated to Corvanus?” Azios asked.

“Never heard of Corvanus until I arrived,” San said. “My home… was different.”

Azios nodded. “My Aunt, Pa’s eldest sister, used to talk about how they were rich and powerful when they lived in the Empire. How living out here was foolish and backwards.” Azios shrugged. “She thought she was a real Imperial, refused to marry unless the man could give her a true Imperial wedding, like some noble or something.”

“What happened to her?”

“She disappeared one night. No one knows what happened. The door to her house was open and no one saw her again. Anyway, she would talk about the Empire as if she lived there. She was born on this komai and she probably died on it too.”

“This is a nice place,” San said.

“Was your home like this?” Endaha asked. She sat in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a bowl of broth and soft bread. It had been several days, the antibiotics were working wonders. San wondered if it was due to the fact this world’s bacteria had never encountered antibiotics; there had been news stories about bacteria that were resistant to antibiotics back on Earth.

She wasn’t so pale and weak anymore. She was now able to move about, albeit slowly and painfully, but awake more often than not. San had never met anyone so apologetic about being helpless and nearly dying.

“It was different,” San said. “I lived in a city, I ran a brewery, and… It was different.” He finished.

He saw Endaha’s face slowly come to a realization and then redden at her questioning.

“What was the city’s name?” Azios asked.

“Seattle.”

“Was it grand?” he asked.

“It was nice. Rained a lot, was very green, sat upon a sound where fishing vessels would go out to catch fish, there was a big university there, and a market where they sold everything you could imagine.”

“What’s a university?”

“It’s a school you go to after your primary education. They teach you things, engineering, science, how to run a business, mathematics.”

“That’s apprenticeships,” Azios said. ‘When you reach thirteen summers, you go apprentice with someone, if you pay them enough. Since I’m one of the last Exonaris on this komai, I guess I’m going to be a farmer like Brother.”

“I thought he was a solider, why else is he with the Baron?”

“He’s not a soldier,” Endaha said. “All komai have to send at least two men to fight for the Baron when he calls. Kovass was the only male of fighting age.”

“Is there not a professional military?” San asked. “The Baron’s guards?”

“There’s only about two hundred of them,” Azios said. “They protect the Baron’s castle and the White Tower. If there is a war or raiders, then it is up to the Landed families to send men to fight. It’s the Imperial way of doing things, if you’re a citizen, then you protect your land. There are also plenty of mercenaries that will sign up for a short war or two.”

“Are the conscripts given training?” San asked.

“In large komais, the Family Head is responsible for training and outfitting men to fight, with the Baron paying for specialized weapons. But there aren’t many large komais anymore.”

“My people attacked many places after the Mage Chief died,” Endaha said. Azios looked away, not saying anything. “My family attacked this place, we were starving and they were weak.”

San frowned.

“That’s the past,” Azios said. “You’re family now.”

San reached forward and laid a hand on Azios’ shoulder. “You’re family,” he said. Azios looked at him for a long moment and nodded.

“Family.”

***

“So what is this yeast?” Azios asked as he looked into the empty amphora and the yeast cake remaining. “Is it an animal of some kind?”

“It’s a living organism,” San said. “It likes to eat sugar. Then it poops alcohol.”

“We’re drinking poop?” Azios asked.

“In a sense. It’s like how bees make honey. They drink the nectar out of flowers and then go back to their hive and vomit it back up into small cells. It’s a chemical breakdown of sugars. In this case, that sugar is being turned into alcohol.”

“My family had bees,” Endaha said. “The wise women would say the Blessed Mother rewarded the hard work of bees with honey and rewarded human cleverness with being able to take some of that honey for our own uses.”

“Pretty much anything with sugar can be made into alcohol,” San said. “Honey is one. I believe your people make mead out of it?”

“Yes, very good mead.”

“Imbar is another. But imbar is mostly sugar, it doesn’t have much of a taste to it besides being sweet.”

“People die and lose all their teeth if they eat nothing but imbar,” Azios said. “It’s a poor man’s food, but a rich merchant’s ware.”

“The imbar wash is drinkable and you can get drunk off of it, but that’s only one step in a process of making a different drink,” San said.

“What’s that?”

“Moonshine,” San replied.

“What’s that mean?” Azios asked. “Is it an Adventurer drink? Corvanus is represented by the moon; her magic is strongest during the full moon.”

“I did not know that,” San said. “It’s just the name this drink was given from where I come from. We didn’t have a moon goddess.”

“She’s not a moon goddess!” Endaha and Azios cried out.

“Oh, sorry.”

“She is the Eternal Slayer, the Night Walker, and the Defender of Humanity,” Azios said. “That is why she is represented by the moon. She is the only thing out in the night when all the horrors walk the land.”

“I would think stars would be a better representation,” San said. “The moon waxes and wanes, right?”

“That’s Kazo, the Smith of Souls,” Azios replied. “The stars are the sparks coming off his anvil as he shapes and forges the souls of the soon to be living. He is now shaping my brother’s child’s soul.”

“That’s pretty cool,” San said.

“What are the gods of your land?” Endaha asked.

“Oh, there are many. I suppose the land where I lived was God, but there were many other religions. My grandfather’s people came from a land far from where I grew up. They were the foreigners there, so they brought the God of their own land with them. My grandfather was against worshipping God and religion. I think his faith was tested when he still lived in the land of his birth, war and a fight for independence from a dying empire soured him on it.”

“You worship no gods then?” Azios asked, a little shocked.

“I suppose I could say I’m spiritual now,” San said. “I have seen the souls of the dead. That means there is an afterlife. That at our deaths it does not just end.”

Endaha shuddered, holding Cassa tight. “Only the Hesna cults seek oblivion,” she said.

“Perhaps I shall find a god here that will appeal to me,” San said. Azios shook his head. “Okay, the thing with yeast is that it changes after you use it often. This yeast was designed to be used for a different kind of wash, but it works good on the imbar. What we need to do, is to make sure that the yeast doesn’t die and we lose it. Therefore we’re going to have to make yeast food.”

“Shall we plant it?” Azios asked. “They look not to need much, these little animals.”

San chuckled. “They only like sugar, so we just feed them something sugary. In this case, more imbar. But not to the point where it is not making too much alcohol, only to where they can live and breed.”

Azios looked at the yeast. “They breed? Like woollys?” he asked.

“In a sense.”

“I can’t see cock or balls on any of them.”

“They’re very small,” San grinned.

“My Pa would say that to my Uncle and he would respond that its just cold. Are they cold?”

San and Endaha laughed at that.

“Come on, let’s get some imbar from the silo.” San slapped Azios on the back and grabbed his coat from where it hung. He paused a moment and hooked on the sword belt and dagger, then checked the revolver and picked up a crossbow. Azios did the same, a firm look on his face as he checked the crossbow he now carried with him always.

Beside Endaha were two loaded pistols. The rifles were loaded, but leaning against the wall, the matchcords unlit. If it came down to it, Endaha could light the match cords of the weapons from the fire and ready the weapons.

What a life he lived, San pondered as he peered through a crack in the door. So scared they had to go out armed just to get some vegetables to boil.

“You remember the knock?” San asked Endaha.

“Aye. Two slow, one fast, two fast, three slow,” she said.

San nodded and eased the door open. The bright white world of the outside greeted him. The storms had eased and only dumped a few extra inches of snow on the ground. The area around the farmstead was cleared of the snow, San having found a wooden shovel and all the brewing he and Azios had been doing ate up the fresh fallen snow.

The ground was frozen hard and the air was chilly, but not too bad. San took a deep breath, relishing the bracing air and the hint of woodsmoke that arose from the smoke hole in the farmhouse. If the weather held, he would have to begin felling more trees for firewood again. The twelve twenty foot logs he had brought back were impressive in the amount of space they took up, but when chopped up for firewood and simple heating, it went fast.

They had a few more weeks of firewood, but Azios claimed that after Midwinter’s Reprieve, it would be two months of heavy snows and then a month of heavy freezing rains. They had only a month before Reprieve. San was already making plans about that two week long event, especially with all the imbar wash he was making.

If Pavano returned with the supplies San had ordered, then he could move onto the next phase of what he intended, distillation. He had spent a few hours racking his brain on how to distill the imbar wash, the normal method would have been a copper distilling kettle, but San would have to see about having that specially made.

For now there were iron pots, which was not ideal for distilling. He could heat up the wash, but keeping the temperature from being too cold or too hot would be an issue. Along with the fact that alcohol vapors would eventually corrode the iron pot fairly quickly.

“Is there any clay deposits around here?’ San asked, as he and Azios walked to the silo. San pulled a simple wooden sled, getting a wheelbarrow would be something he would have to work on.

“Aye, there’s one we’ve been using near the Drink,” Azio said. “Be a bit frozen nowadays, though.” He gestured to the hard frozen ground.

“It’s a good thing I have a strapping young man who’s always willing to help,” San grinned at Azios. “You only get stronger by working hard.”

“Or gaining Levels,” Azios remarked.

“Very true. I was fairly big and slovenly before I came here. I’ve lost a lot of weight and feel much better,” San replied.

“You are still fairly big,” Azios said. San chuckled in response. Azios lived a hard life, organic farming dependent upon rain and nature wasn’t as productive as farming back in his world. A single family here couldn’t plow and plant a thousand acres in a few days, they would be lucky to get forty or more acres with much of those acreage going to just feed themselves and selling a little remaining.

They arrived to the silo, San scanning the area for any tracks or prints. Wolfram had been wandering around the farm, doing her own thing. He still didn’t know why she was around, perhaps it was for all the tasty monster meat he was providing her?

The imbar was tossed into wicker baskets, holding perhaps twenty pounds each. Although the measurements San had been using were more guesses, he figured that the imbar was about one third sugar. He had followed Endaha’s instructions and created sugar the day previous to satiate his curiosity. What was left was a slightly burned brown sugar.

They pulled the sled back and Azios ran up to the farmhouse door.

“Endaha! We’re going to the Drink to look for clay!” he shouted.

“Clay?” Endaha asked, her voice muffled by the door.

“Aye, San wants to make pottery or something.”

They left the sled by the door and walked toward the creek.

“That was Uncle Ostabar’s house,” Azios pointed to a small half collapsed hut. “He never married. Said he was married to the woods. Pops always called him a tree fucker, like the woodland tribes.”

“That was Aunt Senseeba’s house, she only had one daughter that moved away to another komai. Her husband died of Black Ring, but long ago, not the one that took Pa.” That was a larger house, still single roomed, but even after all these years it looked structurally sound. “We use it for storage, old stuff that we don’t need or were left behind when the others died.”

“Anything salvageable in there?” San asked.

Azios shrugged. “Brother didn’t like anyone touching the stuff. He says they might be haunted, especially how Auntie just vanished one day.”

The creek was running fast, nearly two feet deep and about twenty across. The burbling of the water was calming and San blinked as the reflected sunlight shone in his face.

“How far does this komai extend?” San asked.

“We have the whole valley, the komai is about ten thousand acres, including forests, creek, and whatever minerals were found within it. There are property cairns that mark the extent of the komai, supposedly the Empire has the original survey maps.”

“What’s north of here?” San asked.

Azios shrugged. “Monsters probably. The creek comes out of the mountains to the north. I don’t think anyone beside Uncle had gone up there. Too many stories of people vanishing and monsters in the woods. Uncle didn’t fear monsters and used to spend weeks out there, until he caught a Tribal spear to the gut. People tell of ancient Hanged King keeps and gold mines up in the mountains.”

San could feel the heavy weight of the gold bracelet in his pocket. The white furred creature came from somewhere, it wasn’t human, but it had intelligence. To make clothing, to make decorative jewelry, that had to mean there was a civilization of some sort of those creatures out there.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Not only were there furred monsters out there, there were also the battos that needed to be eradicated. Hopefully the Baron would take the manner seriously and send troops to deal with it.

The clay pit was a large excavated area. Snowed filled the area, but San used a branch to clear away the snow. There was a thick deposit of clay running a foot below the soil. San dug out a chunk with his dagger and the clay crumbled in his hand.

“Good clay,” San said.

“You know clay?” Azios asked.

“My mother loved working with clay. She used to have a small studio where she would make cups, pots, and other items.” San flicked the crumbled clay into the snow.

San sighed and they headed back to the farmhouse.

“Who’s that?” Azios asked, concern in his voice.

San followed Azios’ gaze and saw a wagon and woollys coming out of the treeline.

“Pavano?” Azios wondered.

Three men were on the wagon, it wasn’t the cart that Pavano had taken. The woollys were also different, darker and streaked with white, instead of the brown of the older ones.

“No. It’s someone else. A big man, with a scar on his face and two thin ones.”

“Poxi,” Azios muttered, fear in his voice.

“Who?”

“Poxi the Leg Breaker, he works for Panchavi Sominia, one of the Landed.’

“What does he want?”

“The rest of what he hasn’t taken,” Azios said, anger in his voice.

The pieces fell into place for San. The reason they didn’t have any other animals besides the grazer, the lack of a wagon, the lack of woollys, and even their low levels of food and firewood.

“What is he doing here?” San asked.

“Panchavi claims Brother borrowed money from him before he left, to fix his gear and to pay for food,” Azios spat into the snow. “Brother always kept his gear well cared for.”

“How much money?”

“Two hundred sars.”

“Shouldn’t the woollys they took, the wagon, and everything else have covered that?” San asked.

“He says its interest that has accumulated,” Azios aid. “Many of the poorer komai farmers here owe him this interest. I don’t know what it means beyond that we will never pay of this supposed debt.”

“A protection racket,” San sighed. There were monsters and there were monsters. Preying upon the weak was always a method to make money, regardless of the time period or world. San and Azios made it back to the farmhouse, as the wagon pulled up within the cleared area of snow.

The three men stared at San, at the crossbows, and then at Azios.

“Boy, who’s this foreigner fucker?” the big man, Poxi, demanded.

“Uh-“ Azios began.

“I am San,” San replied. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

“Where’s that Tribal bitch?” one of the other men called out, thin faced with a patchy beard. He grinned at San with a gap toothed smile. “I’ve been on this fucking wagon for the last three days, I need a little comfort.”

“Who the fuck are you to talk to me, big fucker?” Poxi demanded. His hand casually rested on a crossbow.

“I am the person who will speak to you. So I ask again, what can I help you with?”

“Hey, boy. You know the deal. Fifty sars or we take what you owe Panchavi with goods or…” he grinned at San, “flesh.”

“I would like to see the records that show Kovass Exonaris did indeed borrow two hundred sars from Panchavi Sominia along with the agreed on interest rate,” San said.

“Who the fuck are you?” Poxi demanded again. “You fucking that Tribal bitch now that her man is dead? Tell you what, you let us all have a go at her and we’ll let you live. If you let Kota there have a go with the little one, we’ll not burn this whole fucking komai down.”

“NO!” Azios shouted, raising his crossbow. Poxi was faster, his own crossbow was up and firing before Azios. San didn’t think, instead moved the crossbow he carried. He held it out in front of Azios and felt the heavy impact of the bolt slam into the wood. The crossbow smacked Azios, causing him to drop his own bow and accidentally fire the bolt.

San saw that his own bolt hadn’t fire and swung the crossbow back up, firing it straight at Poxi’s surprised face. The big man dodged, the bolt slamming home into his shoulder. He screamed in pain and clutched at it, throwing himself off of the wagon.

One of the men in the wagon rose to his feet, with a crossbow raised, San froze, his hand in his pocket searching for his revolver. There was a thunderous roar that shook San, he glanced back and saw that the farmhouse door was opened. Endaha stood there, her face twisted in rage, holding the matchlock rifle. The heavy rifle’s recoil pushed her back into the darkness of the house, eliciting a cry.

The man with the crossbow screamed, a hole punched into his belly. The third and last man pulled out a short sword and looked at San hesitantly, the tables had been turned. He looked confused at to what to do, but that decision was taken from him a moment later when Wolfram appeared and ripped him off of the wagon.

Azios cried out in horror at the sight of Wolfram, although San had already told him about her. The cries of the last man was cut short as he died within Wolfram’s jaws.

Poxi was still alive, cursing and trying to get to his feet.

“Go check on Endaha!” San shouted to Azois. The terrified boy only nodded. San stalked forward and Poxi looked up to him. Anger and hate on his face.

“Panchavi’s someone you don’t fuck with, foreigner. You think we’re the only guys out here? I’ve go brothers who’ll be looking around for us. They’ll come and burn this whole fucking place down, not after fucking that bitch and those kids to death.” He laughed, spitting blood.

San pulled out his sword and drove it into the man’s heart. He stared at him, eyes wide and still grinning.

“Fuck,” San muttered.

There was a crunching sound as Wolfram made a meal of the man she had killed. Another whimpering noise caused San to walk behind the wagon. Beside Wolfram and the mess that remained of the man she had killed, was the second man who Endaha had shot. Blood was staining his heavy winter tunic and he looked at San with fear and terror.

“I-“ the man tried to talk, but a gasp of pain stopped him.

“Are there others that will look for you?” San asked.

The man only blinked at him, his eyes now unfocused. San sighed and drove the sword into the man’s heart. He shuddered and finally died.

“Endaha’s okay,” Azios said, his voice soft and low.

“Good,” San said. He leaned against the wagon, the woollys had been well trained it seemed. Not bolting when Endaha had fired the matchlock.

“These are our woollys,” Azios said, finally looking at the animals. “This wagon isn’t ours. They came… They came at the end of summer. Demanding money and threatening to kill us.” Azios looked small and fragile. “We gave them what we could and they said they would be back for more.”

“Don’t worry,” San said, pulling Azios into a hug. “It’ll be alright.”

“They’re dead. Panchavi will know we killed them.”

“It’s a dangerous world out there,” San said. “There’s plenty of other monsters roaming around. We just need to make sure they disappear and are never found.”

The wagon held a lot of supplies. There were baskets of grains and dried fruit, three amphoras of oil and another two of wine, three live chickens, and two hundred pounds of wrapped meat and cheeses. San found two clay pots filled with what looked like butter and another of honey. It was a wealth of food. The packs of the men were lying in the back, holding the usual camping gear and supplies. The men only had small coin purses with a total of twenty sars, their weapons were decent, three short swords, knives, and two crossbows. The big man wore a steel padded helmet that San removed. He also had heavy gloves and decent boots. The men were well dressed, with some spares in their packs.

San looted everything of worth, then tossed the rest into the wagon, along with the bodies. Wolfram was not pleased to have her lunch disturbed, but she slunk off to wherever she went.

He used a pick axe and the shovel to pry up the now freezing blood and snow that surrounding the front of the farmstead. Azios worked beside him quietly. They finished before late afternoon, then pulled the woollys and wagon to the north.

Azios said there was an old logging trail back there, they followed it into the woods. San making sure to have the crossbows reloaded and his revolver out. He did not want to run into another white furred creature.

No monsters greeted them, instead the came upon a small clearing not unlike the one San had killed the monster in. There they unhooked the woollys, then ignited the wood they had piled in back of the wagon. Within moments a thick black smoke began rising into the sky. They waited until the entire wagon was engulfed in flames before heading back with the woollys.

The two remaining woollys brayed at the new arrivals, sniffing and grunting out greetings. Azios stood there for a while, brushing down the thick fur of the creatures.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“About?”

“I shouldn’t have tried to shoot him. I-“ he trailed off.

“They were very bad men,” San said. “They knew what they were doing and they knew the consequences of acting as they did. They did not care and would not weep over our corpses after they were finished with us.”

Azios was silent.

“You stood up for your family when someone was threatening them,” San said. “There is no shame in that, there is no need to regret what has happened either. We all make decisions and those men made theirs.”

Azios nodded, wiping tears from his eyes.

“But Panchavi,” he said.

“We’ll deal with him when we have to,” San said.

Azios nodded again. “Okay.”

“Come on, let’s get warmed up and some tea in our bellies,” San said, wrapping an arm around Azios’ thin shoulders. The body shuddered with barely contained emotion as they exited the barn and returned to the farmhouse.

Endaha was crying also, holding Cassa; she rushed into San’s arms and he held them all. They stood there for a moment, just holding one another and taking strength from each other’s presence.

“Are you okay?” San asked Endaha. She nodded, her eyes till red. San took Cassa and the small girl smiled at him. Tugging on his beard.

“What are we going to do?” Endaha asked.

“I’ll stay outside in the barn tonight, make sure that no one else is coming around like that asshole said,” San replied. “We’re going to have to be on our toes for the next couple of days, if they really do have other people out there. Hopefully he was lying and it was only those three working this area.”

Endaha nodded, taking Cassa and heading to the fire pit, where a pot of tea was boiling.

***

The barn was colder than he remembered. San sat on some straw, in an elevated spot in the barn’s rafters. He peered through a small hole in the wall, giving him a clear view of the front of the farmhouse. His legs were getting cold and his ass was numb.

His watch told him he’d been up there for nearly four hours and had yet to see anything. Soon it would be too damn cold but for the bravest and stupidest of men. San counted himself among the latter.

“Hello, Sanjay,” a voice whispered in his ear.

San twirled around and saw a white face before him. He let out a shriek and lost his balance upon the rafter. His stomach flopped as he realized he was falling, but a second later he fell into a pile of straw with a grunt and an explosion of dust. The woollys brayed questioningly and the grazers chittered.

A figure dropped down beside him, nearly floating down with how graceful she was.

San blinked. The White Woman stood before him, pale skinned and wearing a heavy white robe. He sat up quickly, backing himself into the straw and reaching for his sword.

“Is that a way to greet an old friend?” the woman asked, gracefully sitting upon a chair that hadn’t been there before.

“What… What are you doing here?” San asked.

“Just as you are, I am free to wander where I wish, Sanjay.”

“I-I don’t remember much of the last time we met,” San said. “But I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You soul told me your name, Sanjay. It is etched in deep lines across your soul, burning brightly for all those that can see such things.”

“Oh.”

The woman rose from her seat and walked toward San, she stopped before him and looked down at him. San could see she wasn’t wearing shoes and her heavy robed swayed as she moved.

She knelt down before him, looking him in the eyes. Her presence was overwhelming, drowning out all his thoughts and coalescing one emotion above all. His desire for her.

“Would you deny me a second time?” She asked, her voice soft and musical.

“Yes,” San croaked.

“Are you sure?” she asked, this time her robe parting somewhat, revealing her soft pale flesh.

‘Yes,” San said again.

The woman laughed and her pale hands caressed his cheek. Where she touched his skin, all he could feel was ice cold.

“Who are you?” San asked.

“I have many names, Winter Walker, the Snow Queen, but I prefer Winter’s Lament,” she said, still kneeling before San. “I always wander the land, but it is during winter that there is a quiet in the world, a silence as life sleeps.”

“I have not seen much silence lately,” San said. “Almost every other day a monster appears, human or not.”

The woman laughed softly, caressing San’s face once more “You are the one that brings them, fool boy. The fire of your soul brings those cold and hateful beings to where you are. They want your warmth, but they are cowards and weak.”

“How do I stop it?” San asked.

“Would you snuff out the sun because you are too warm? Would you dry up the rivers because they are too wet?” the woman asked.

“What does that mean?”

“To prevent the creatures from coming for you, you must simply die.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

“Then they will come for you. Until they fear you completely.”

“Fear me?”

The woman’s hands reached into his coat and with surprising ease, she pulled out the plastic bag with the gems.

“Your collection has grown,” the woman said, looking at the gems. “Yellows, how quaint.”

“Do you know how to use them?”

“Of course.”

“Can you tell me how?”

“Answer me this first. Why have you not consumed the others, you have enough to gain another level.”

“I don’t need another level,” San said. “But someone might. You heal when you gain a level.”

The woman laughed again, her fingers brushing across his chest. “So noble,” she said, her lips only inches from his own. “So selfless. Many would not care about that aspect of the gems, they would only look at the power it will give them.”

“If it can save a life, then I’ll use it then.”

“The woman?” she asked. “Childbirth is a difficult thing. Blood, tearing, and pain, all the things to bring life into this world. Do you think if she might die, that you will use these gems on her?”

“I don’t know.”

“She is not your woman and he is not your son,” the woman said. “The blood that flows within them has nothing to do with you.”

“Blood and biology are only words,” San said. “The rest is about how you feel.”

“Foolish boy,” she whispered. “I shall answer your question. The yellow gems are weak things. They only allow a person to shape something into what it already wants to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“That sword you carry, it doesn’t want to rust, it wants to be sharp, it wants to draw blood, it wants to be strong” she said, softly. “Those are the things that the blade wants, that steel wants.”

“I am a brewer,” San said. “What does alcohol want?”

“You already know that answer, Sanjay,” she said and he felt her lips on his. An ice cold feeling tore through him, it cleansed his sense, burn his brain, and he reeled back gasping in air.

Steam rose off the woman’s lips as she looked at him with her large eyes. “So warm,” she said.

“What do you want?” San asked, confused.

“To see you, of course. I was walking the woods and I saw a great plume, an offering of blood and bone in the old ways. I was intrigued, I saw three dead men and came here to smell the blood of those three men on you. Every death in winter sings to me, every offering calls to me, therefore I came.”

“I didn’t mean to summon you,” San said.

“You did not. I came on my own volition.”

“Oh.”

“I walked the trade road, under the darkened sky, Corvanus watching me and hurling insults,” she said, grinning. “Then I came across a camp of four men, armed and smelling of the men you had killed. Kindred spirits? Brothers in arms? They shared their fire with me.” Her lips were so close to his again. “But unlike you, they were not as kind.”

San stilled and stared at her. “You mean…”

The woman smiled, running a finger across his chest. “Such wild men, without regard for life and no honor in their hearts.” She smiled revealing sharpened teeth. “They met the fate of those that do not offer hospitality and only take.”

“Were they Panchavi’s men?” San asked.

“Who knows who they owed their allegiance to,” the woman said. “They were cruel and heartless and they died in a cruel and heartless way. You reap what you sow, Sanjay.”

San lay there and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts swirled as the woman, ran her hands across his chest. If the four were Panchavi’s men, then they would probably assume the other three had met a similar fate.

“I did not do it for you,” the woman said.

“I didn’t think you did,” San replied.

“Yes you did,” she said, nuzzling against his chest. “A shared fire and stories of your youth, three dead men, heart pierced and burned in the old ways; that does not grant you favors, Sanjay.”

“Only two were heart pierced,” San said.

The woman laughed softly. ‘Minor details.”

“Either way, thank you. Those men were not good people and they have preyed on plenty this hard winter,” he said.

“No one thanks me for what I do,” the woman said softly. “It is selfishness and for petty reason I do what I do. Not for others.’

“Either way. Thank you.”

The woman laughed again. “Let me lay here, Sanjay. I wish to share your fire for another night. No harm will come to this komai from any living creature.”

“Okay.”