Wallace

I was lying, for the third night in a row, in the dirt.

Amity, Regina, and I had taken to lying in wait overnight and sleeping during the day. The previous two attempts had been fruitless, but it wasn't as if we had much choice.

By the time we spotted them approaching, if we did at all, it would be too late to leave the hotel and try a stealthy approach. They'd be watching, likely from all angles, and they'd spot us coming out. It wouldn't take a genius to know what we'd be doing, and it would give away the element of surprise.

So we spent the nights hiding out near where we thought Simon's toys might post up.

Aside from the boredom, it hadn't been too bad. The previous nights I'd read a novel and kept the communication book at my elbow to keep an eye on any messages from the others.

Tonight was a little more bothersome.

For one, Simon's toys were finally here. That was good, right?

Not exactly.

This morning, the sun had risen to reveal a thick evergreen forest surrounding the hotel, and before getting some shuteye, I picked out a likely looking hill. Somewhere Simon's girls could get a look at the hotel while still having ample tree cover to mask any lights they might have.

Turns out I was a little too good with my guess, and by the time I realized where the girls were headed, it was too late for me to pull back. Which is how I came to lie less than ten yards from their camp, on the downslope of the hill.

There had been just enough time to shuffle under the boughs of a nearby evergreen, and now its branches brushed against my back while my head was filled with the musty scent of discarded pine needles scattering the forest floor.

I had my arms and legs spread to press myself to the ground and stay as low as possible. With The Father absent, the sky was dark, and I wouldn't be doing much reading until after midnight when it was to rise again.

Even with the wide skirt of branches for cover, the light would give me away. It did a little more to keep the rain off, but not much. Beginning as a light drizzle, the weather had grown worse as the night wore on, and now it came thick enough to all but blot out my view of the hotel. Not that I was in prime position, but I expected the girls up on the hill weren't doing much better.

I could hear snippets of conversation, but the hush of falling rain did much to mask the noise. I was getting soaked, but on the whole, I was thankful for the rain. I'd been afraid to move before it had picked up, worried that at this distance, any motion would be heard by the girls on the hill. Worse, with the branches hanging so low, I feared they might notice the tree rustling when it should be still. Even if I could have risked a light, it would have been impossible to get the communication book from my bag without making enough noise to bring the girls down on me.

As uncomfortable as I was, at least I could shift enough to keep my limbs from falling asleep. I could even go for the communication book, and indeed I had pulled my pack around to sit in front of me, but at its core, the communication book was just a book, and I was not clever enough to have waterproofed it.

I lifted myself slightly, holding myself off the ground with one hand while I brushed the other against the front of my jacket to dry it. Not that the front of my jacket was much drier than the rest of me, but I didn't have a towel handy.

I settled back down and undid the top of my pack. I reached inside and shuffled the contents around to pull the book to the front and opened it inside the bag. With the pack to shield the light, I reached across the book and twisted the head of the torch ever so slightly, leaving just enough light to read by. Any more, and I'd risk them spotting the light as it shone from the bag and lit up the branches above my head.

While it hadn't occurred to me to waterproof the book, I had added a new message notification, and the tab on Val's page had changed colour from white to blue.

I felt my pulse race. If I'd missed an important message-

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep the laugh from alerting the others.

Val had drawn me another picture. It was hardly the first from the past few nights, as she was as bored as the rest of us, keeping watch from the roof of the hotel.

She might not be as good as me in the dark, but neither were Simon's fey. The hope was that Val would be able to spot their lights as they approached. Though she found time to keep me entertained in between shifts with the others.

As much as I enjoyed Val's little experiment with being on top- it was certainly less work for me -it had not changed her preferences. Preferences that were plain to see from the last few pieces she'd drawn me.

The most recent, well, it was something else.

Constance and I sat across from each other in what appeared to be a fairly regular conversation, and though it was clear Val enjoyed drawing me shirtless, both myself and Constance were fully clothed. What's more, neither of us paid Valentine any mind. You'd be forgiven for thinking neither of us was aware of her presence. But there she was, on all fours on the carpet, with my feet resting on her back. I won't go into detail about her attire, but suffice it to say, she wasn't in a position to take part in the conversation and wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

Glad to see Val's adjusting. In her own unique way.

I settled in to wait and checked my watch occasionally. It was a fair assumption that any attack would come just after midnight, maybe one o'clock in the morning. By convention, one to three in the morning was thought of as the best hour for a nighttime strike. There were likely to be very few people awake, and they'd be the sentries, well into their shifts and beginning to tire and bore.

The exhaustion and boredom of the sentries would be enhanced if they could wait a little longer, but I doubted they'd risk the tides for that slight advantage.

Not that our sentries were bored or exhausted- well, I was bored at least -but those in the hotel were doing fine. Operating on short shifts, thirty minutes at a time, also meant they remained sharp. It was likely that without such measures, we might not have known of the fey until I'd heard them stomping up the hill. As it was, Val only caught the slightest flicker of light through the trees, so slight that she thought it imagined until Cassius could confirm the sighting.

V to W: How do you feel about piercings? Came Val's message a while later.

I lifted a hand to write a reply and then paused. What the hell was going through that strange little mind? I took up the stylus and wrote a risky reply.

W to V: If you want to get some piercings, don't let me stop you. I don't think it's my business to tell you what to do.

I didn't wait long for the reply.

V to W: That is not an answer! I didn't ask you for permission. I asked you what you thought.

W to V: I don't know, it depends, but I'm not really a fan. Have you got something in mind?

V to W: Just trying to follow your obsessive way of thinking. I thought some piercings in private places might be a good way to ensure I'm never without a supply of mana. Though I hoped you might appreciate it for other reasons.

W to V: I swear to god. If you draw me a picture, I'm throwing this book away. We're supposed to be planning a raid.

V to W: A drawing actually sounds like a good idea. And the raid is planned. I even have our response to Simon ready. It's been ready for three days. Are you sure you don't like piercings? Maybe you just haven't seen the sort you like. We could go to The Blushing Maiden once this all blows over, I could get some of the girls to model for you.

W to V: Remind me to tell you about the internet some time. I've seen my fill, not really into it. That said, I don't want you to feel as if you need to do what I tell you.

V to W: But I like doing what you tell me. Especially when I don't want to do whatever it is you're telling me to do. What about tattoos? I could get some more tattoos, but instead of enchanting them, I use the materials to power my spells. I could have a new set of tattoos every week!

I frowned in thought. That wasn't a bad idea. Val would put her own lewd spin on it, but at least the tattoos would disappear once she used them on a spell.

W to V: I don't mind tattoos. Though god only knows what you'll get Felicity to write on your body.

I shouldn't have said anything. Val passed the following hour writing suggestions, each one more obscene than the next. I turned off the torch as The Father rose, and I was actually glad when she fell suddenly silent. It wasn't long before the expected message arrived, and I flipped to the page for the open channel as its tab changed to blue.

V to All: Message received, sending query.

I kept my eyes on the book while I reorganized my gear, moving it from the pack and into my jacket's many pockets.

Waterproofing for the book, some way to read the book in the dark without giving my position away, and some sort of magicy load-bearing vest.

It would be faster to pull from the jacket or my jeans than the backpack, but improvements could always be made.

I'd just finished reorganizing my gear, with only the book and a few mundane bits of equipment remaining in the pack when the subsequent messages arrived.

V to All: Query sent, await reply.

A to All: Incoming radio message. Indecipherable, one sentence.

I held my breath and listened. That short message could be the go order, but Val's query was a sort of counter-offer, an amendment to the terms of battle that would clarify what it meant for agents on either side to be defeated. After all, if we were going to fight this little war without killing anyone, we needed clear terms for when someone was out of the fight.

We'd gone back and forth at length, unsure as to what sort of terms we wanted them to adhere to. Terms we'd be bound by ourselves if something went wrong. One option was something called 'parole'. Common in the age of pike and shot among captured officers, they'd be permitted to roam their captor's camp, fortress, or whathaveyou, so long as they didn't attempt to escape. Their only shackles were their honour.

Almost without exception, we favoured this sort of arrangement. With the help of Regina and Constance, Amity had done what she could to put together a holding area in the hotel, but it was something of a bother. Even ignoring the risk of escape, which was substantial when dealing with enemy casters, it was a pain in the ass to keep so many people fed and housed. The downside was that once paroled, escape wasn't really an option. You'd given your word, and unless your captor took a dishonourable action, it wasn't the sort of thing you could take back. So if one of us got captured and parole was the only surrender option, then unless we attempted a rescue, we'd be down a person.

The other option then was conventional imprisonment. No promise against escape was given, and in turn, you weren't treated quite so well. Valentine had used the term "Kept in bondage," because of course she had.

Double entendre aside, it wasn't far from the truth. In fact, if it came to that point, some of the toys Val had collected in the city would be of some use.

The very idea made me extremely uncomfortable. Still, I found it hard to argue with Val's point that they were unlikely to know the mana types present in PVC, latex, vinyl, or any of the other materials that made up Val's prized possessions.

Though, upon consideration, latex probably had and could be modified by Plant mana. If it were some hydrocarbon based substitute, then perhaps not, but actual raw latex comes from trees. Though hopefully, none of Simon's people knew that.

The arrangement we settled on, and the one Val had just sent off to Simon, was simple. Combatants could surrender under either of the terms, with those who'd not taken parole initially being able to request it any time following their capture.

The tab for the open channel flicked to blue, and I tapped it absently as I read the following message.

A to All: Incoming radio message, long, still going.

I heard activity on the hill pick up, and among the sounds of them breaking camp, I caught what sounded like one of them was slowly reading something out. The message, I guessed, as they decoded it.

A to All: Message complete.

V to All: Simon accepts.

W to All: Striking

The last letter ended in a long line as I dropped the stylus and snapped the book shut before I'd finished writing the word. I jerked the bag closed even as I slipped my arm through the straps and flung it onto my back as I pushed out from under the tree. I checked the straps with one hand even as the other drew forth a pair of iron ingots. With the straps secured across my chest, I transferred one of the ingots to the other hand and broke into a run. I advanced quickly towards the crown of the hill at a half-crouch, hoping to put off discovery as long as possible.

Two paces from the crest of the hill, I straightened and lifted my arms. I didn't pause to take aim or consider my targets. Instead, I picked the two tallest figures and pointed an ingot at each of them.

In the distance, I heard Regina's savage roar echo across the hills.