Stathis was suddenly dragged backward, an arm wrapping itself around her chest and pulling her off her feet. She bumped backwards, falling against someone, just as a bull thundered past the space she had been standing in. It lunged at another reveller, silver-tipped horns swinging forward, as they dodged, leaping upwards and somersaulting over its back, jewellery in the air as they spun, gracefully landing back on the ground to cheers and applause, even taking a bow.

‘Sorry ‘bout that, you OK?’ Brina was pushed tightly against her back, arms still around her waist as more bulls thundered past, chased by yelling revellers. ‘Keeps things exciting, havin’ some bulls rampage around. Bit ‘o local colour. Think they sacrifice ‘em at the end and the meat from ‘em’s meant to be lucky as well, sells for a pretty penny. Managed to score some Summer's Kiss as well, want some?’

She pulled out a metal flask and unscrewed it, keeping one arm still around Stathis’ waist, as a scent of apples and spice came forth, Brina taking a swig before passing it over. Stathis gave it an experimental sniff – cloves, cinnamon, something smooth she couldn’t identify – before drinking some herself. Whatever it was, the taste was smooth and sweet, a warmth lingering down her throat. She took another sip, savouring the taste, and the warmth of the arm still around her waist.

‘Go easy, this stuff’s stronger ‘n it tastes! This town’s pretty friendly, but still a bad idea to pass out in an alleyway. There’s a ranger I know, lives out in the steppes, owed me a solid. Nice to get paid back finally! So, you wanna go see if Miss Fancy has finally beaten that thing, or we could go exploring? Find something a bit more exciting?’ Another bull raced past, Stathis pressing herself tightly into the nook they were squashed into, Brina squirming behind her, hair and bells softly rubbing against her back.

When the bulls and the crowd had passed by, Stathis stepped forward. Brina’s face was bright red as she smiled and waved her hands to fan herself, letting Stathis go. ‘Well, Iristanar folk sure are bold, shovin’ someone into a corner like that! Plannin’ on some wickedness, no doubt.’

Stathis flushed. ‘We should go check back, see how she’s doing.’ It was unlikely Carissia would have been injured much, but it was best to check, and they should be heading back soon. Brina took her hand again, pulling her back to the Ivory Scroll guildhall, apparently never content to take things slowly.

Stathis let herself be marched back to the hall, Terin melting back out from the shadows partway there, emerging from a shadowed alleyway, shadows stretching into the light for a moment as he moved, before snapping backwards.

Inside, the warding circle had vanished, although the floor had a neatly-demarcated circle that was covered with a thin layer of ash and char. Carissia was now being feted and praised, her clothing frayed and singed, showing signs of exertion for once. Her mace was melted and warped, in need of some dedicated repair, if not straight-up junking, but she looked happy as glasses and tankards were hefted in her name. Although it probably wouldn’t be long until she’d thrown them over for some other group. Carissia was passed a tall glass, containing a muddy-looking brew, different liquids already curdling and separating out into sickly-looking layers.

As the group chanted her name, Carissia accepted the glass, raising it to her lips, and chugging it down, not stopping until it was all gone. Her face paled and she swayed, gulping in deep breaths of air, sweat shining on her forehead as she struggled to control herself. Her fingers traced through an exceptionally wobbly spell-glyph, light skewing and twisting before melting away, spell incomplete. Stathis pushed through the crowd, waving a hand in front of Carissia’s eyes, which took long seconds to focus. Even from here, the smell from the long glass was atrocious, some cocktail of gods-only-knew-what, the remnants now curdling together.

‘She ain’t going anywhere for a while. That was a dirty, dirty, dirty pint.’ Brina took a sniff. ‘Gods, there’s Green Devil in this, and some of the bog juice from down Blackmarsh way. Well, guess she passed her test.’ She smiled at Stathis. ‘Guess that means you’re free for the night? Let’s get Terin and go have some fun. This lot’ll just start telling stories about the monsters they’ve killed and the stuff they’ve nicked from a load of dead people. Tirisa’ll look after her – she looks scary with the black and all the metal stuck in her, but is kinda sweet. Uh, don’t tell her I said that though, she gets scary when people think she’s not scary.’

The woman had come over, and was checking Carissia over, poking her to keep her conscious, letting Carissia slump onto her shoulder, dribbling slightly and taking deep breaths. Not that much time had passed, so as long as she was recovered in an hour or two, it should be OK.

‘That sounds good. Although I need to come back and pick her up later on, get her back to the castle.’

‘I won’t keep you up too late, promise!’ Brina looked between the two of them. ‘So, you just her guard, or something more?’

‘We’re sisters. Well, half-sisters.’

‘Guess you got your height from the parent you don’t share? She ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while, and there’s a lot more fun stuff we could be doin’, out on festival night.’ Brina looked between the two of them, comparing their features, Stathis feeling very self-conscious. Although at least she was conscious, relatively sober and her clothing was intact, and unburnt, and she wasn’t streaked with sweat and ash. And Carissia could manage to project power and dignity, but not so much when she was slumped down, barely conscious and inches from spewing everywhere, with Tirisa holding her up and keeping her talking, or at least mumbling, to try and keep her vaguely conscious and her guts under control. Although there would be a certain amusement in hanging around to watch her suffer, it would also be really boring, and she could always just tell Carissia she’d watched her, the outcome would be much the same (likely flat denials such a thing had ever happened).

Terin re-emerged from the shadows, bearing more drink, Stathis gratefully accepting a beer. ‘I’ve heard there’s a party going on, down Westgate way. Private event, but I know a guy, reckon I can get us in.’

‘Word ‘o warnin’, he means sneakin’ in the back way. Sounds fun though – you in, Stathis? We’ll get you back safe ‘n pretty so you can get Miss Fancy here back by dawn. Although don’t know if she’ll be in any state, less you want Tirisa to throw some potions into her. Which’ll probably do somethin’, but that might be a bit random what it is! I ended up glowin’ green for a week one time. Smelt great and didn’t need to sleep none, but looked kinda freaky!’

The beer was tasting better by the sip, the tankard emptying fast. Stathis put it onto a table with determination. ‘OK, I just need to be back at the castle by dawn. I can carry her there if I need to, although it’s easier if I don’t have to. Let’s go.’

Stathis let herself be dragged outside again, back into the square, Brina's head twisting from side to side, before she hauled the pair of them down an alleyway, juking through a twisting maze of narrow tunnels formed by overhanging buildings. They emerged into an open square, fireworks blasting above them, festival stalls with cheap masks, thin wood painted with flaking paint and decorated with glitter and simple shapes. Brina stopped, looking over the offerings, before plucking out a pair, one in black, fringed with spikes, the other painted in white and gold, a tatty wire holding up a golden halo.

Stathis stooped, letting Brina tie the thing over her face, feeling fingers quickly brush the back of her head as the ribbon tightened, before she re-arranged it so she could see properly. She looked over the remaining masks – amidst the usual knights, priests and animals was some kind of forest spirit, with twiggy antlers and mossy hair. Stathis picked it up, fishing in her belt pouch and flipping a coin to the stallholder. Brina turned around, letting Stathis settle the mask on her face, Stathis’ fingers suddenly feeling strangely stiff and awkward as she tried to tie the ribbon, the bells tinkling under her touch, hair soft to the touch.

Once it was in place, Brina spun back around, hair flicking out and brushing against Stathis, bells catching against her hands. Behind her was a gaunt, unsmiling figure, stark against the brightly revelling festivalgoers, staring at Stathis, their face pale, eyes dark and piercing. They raised a hand, a gemstone dangling on a chain from long, spindly fingers twisting and sending the gem dancing through the air in twitching, spasmodic orbits, a deep black light trailing after it.

‘A nymph getting pursued by an angel and a demon? Sounds like a fun party, right? And a nymph that’s gonna have a long, fun night! Now, where the hell are we going, Terin? You better not be making this up!’

‘It’s down near the Maidens, you up for a shortcut? A bit of the thieves road is the quickest way.’

There wasn’t a chance to say anything before Brina ordered him to start, shadows again flickering as he accelerated, running towards a narrow alleyway. ‘Come on, pretty miss angel! Don’t want me to get tricked away by a devil, do you?’

Stathis had no choice but give chase down an alleyway, scraping off the walls as she skidded around a corner, barely keeping up with the pair of them. Away from the main streets, everything was suddenly quiet and dark, sounds from the festival a street or two away seeming far further, the buildings all locked up, the only light that of the moon above them.

She crashed into Brina, the two of them tumbling forward into a wall. Ahead of them was a quintet of robed figures, tattered robes contrasting with the clean, shining weapons held in their hands. The leader spoke, voice hissing and hateful.

‘Half-born, sun-touched, surrender to us, and we won’t have to hurt you. Drop your weapon and come with us, that your blood may have some greater purpose.’

Brina whispered up at her. ‘Friends ‘o yours? Boarded up tunnel on the left, those robes ‘o theirs ain’t gonna be great for running. Dunno what’s down there, but got to be better ‘n this. Terin, you prick the frontman, then we bail. Got it?’

The leader slowly advanced, curved sword at the ready – although he looked uncertain, he was handling the weapon with enough skill that Stathis didn’t want to put him to the test. In the narrow confines, and squashed together with Brina, there wasn’t enough room for Stathis to draw her own sword, although the closeness of the other two was reassuring. A flash of metal flicked out from Terin, bright steel slicing into their attacker’s arm, darkness staining the robes. As he yelled, Brina pulled on Stathis’ arm, the two of them smashing through some wooden planks nailed over a hole in the rock wall, Terin not far behind.

They plunged into the darkness, rock crunching underfoot, one hand running along the wall, rough rock scraping her hand, the other held tightly by Brina, hoping she had better night vision than Stathis did. From the shouts behind them, their attacks had recovered from the initial shock, as angry cries echoed in the small space.

Brina suddenly yanked on her arm, weight almost wrenching it from its socket, a moment before the floor underfoot wasn’t, and she skidded and scraped down a steep tunnel, bashing and knocking against the wall, trying to protect her head from impacts along the way.