After donning my damp tunic and pants, I finally made it back to the market. Initially, I had reached shore several hundred paces off, and had to trace my way to the nearby docks. Recognising landmarks was difficult in the dark, even with the bright moonlight, however I eventually recognised House Esfaria’s building, its front lit by gentle, bluish tones. Several moments of squinting revealed a bloodtech lamp, held aloft by Peeler, the guard who had harassed Bab and I the last time we had entered. As soon as I had sighted him, trepidation filled me; the remnants of Bab’s fear.

The emotion provoked an opposite reaction – I felt the need to exonerate myself from the cowardly unease within me, to prove that I was brave, and that I was myself. I had to confront Peeler, somehow. Plumbing the depths of my mind for a reason to approach, I vaguely recalled Ma mentioning she would head to the Esfarian office to review some documents. The quickest way to deliver the Frond’s response would be to head straight there.

I left my canoe tied to the docks, hoping Jasmine would retrieve it during her next visit, and approached the azure light. The guard’s tall frame stiffened as I approached. “Stop!” he announced, haltingly, levelling a spear my way. “State your name and business!” His words echoed through the darkness of night.

“Hello, Peeler,” I replied. “Don’t you recognise me?”

He shuddered – I must’ve sounded particularly creepy. “N-No. Name and business!”

“Bab brought me in, around a fortnight ago. I was injured; he helped me.”

“Oh!” The exclamation was breathy; relieved. “Master Frond! What are you doing out so late?”

That was the name I had gone by? My ingenuity astonished even me. “I have a message for General Maja from my father. I heard that she would be inside.”

He nodded. “She is, yes. I’ll let you in right away.”

My gut churned. Shouldn’t security have been tighter, given the sabotage that had occurred barely weeks ago? I asked Peeler as much.

“We… haven’t had time to launch an investigation.” His back was turned to me as he sorted through his keys. “There are only a few scribes remaining.”

“What about Captain Vernon?”

“He’s an Owlblood. An excellent asset, but a poor commander.”

I glanced upwards, at the hawk emblem above the door. “It seems foolish to badmouth your superior.”

“Captain Vernon doesn’t care.”

I grunted, unwilling to continue the conversation. The first key he tried failed to open the lock. The second, similarly, failed. I might have felt more sympathetic, were he not a piece of human filth.

“Why did you think House Esfaria has been sabotaged?” His words were casual – unnaturally so.

I stifled a grin. This was the kind of confrontation that I had been looking for. “Most of your comrades have disappeared. Why else would you have Maja – who isn’t a part of your cohort anymore – orchestrating preparations for Dure’s arrival?”

Peeler turned. “Give me the specific reasons you think we were sabotaged.” He fingered his spear purposefully. There it was – beneath his obsequiousness to my Frond guise, laid an aggressive, domineering man.

“Only if you give me the reasons you kicked me in the head, and slapped m-“ I managed to stop myself from saying ‘me’, “-my scribe companion.”

His gulp was almost audible. “You… were awake?”

“No, you stupid flap of foreskin, I was having a seizure.” I wasn’t, actually, but he didn’t need to know that. “However, I’m not oblivious enough to ignore a new bruise on both Tasmaronian and my heads.” A remnant of a dead boy twisted inside of me. Bab would have hated the conflict, yet I – no matter what my blood contained – wasn’t Bab. Letting him get away with what he had done to my dead friend was against the few principles I had. I would torment this scum scraping to my heart’s content.

The guard recovered enough composure to challenge me again. “That’s besides the point-“

I scoffed. “Besides the point? The boy you abused, day in and day out, is dead.” I spat onto the ground, not bothering to hide my hatred. “You made his life hellish.”

“Tas is dead?” The soldier’s mouth hung open, slightly, as if he had the right to be surprised.

The shock had torn his attention away from the phrase I had used. ‘Hell’ was a cultist term – I was lucky Peeler was a foreigner, or he might’ve figured out my origins. It was a stupid mistake, one I had never made before. The close shave wasn’t enough to quell my rapidly rising fury. “You don’t care. You never cared. You beat, abused, and castigated a boy more isolated and alone than he had ever been.”

“That’s-“

“Maybe if you were better at your job, he would be alive. Maybe they all would.”

His green eyes narrowed. “How dare you?”

I refused to be cowed. “How dare I? You pathetic dung muncher.” Distantly, I recognised my words were growing increasingly comprehensible. It seemed irrelevant. “You did this.”

Peeler tightened his grip on the spear. “Frond or no, I can’t let this disrespect stand.”

“You’re not even denying it.”

His lips curved backwards. “I-I, failed, alright? But that’s beside the point.”

The easy admittance of guilt only further inflamed my anger. How could he make such a claim so blandly, then dismiss it with the same breath? I hated him; I loathed him; I wished he would disappear.

Peeler was nearly one and a half feet taller than me, however that didn’t stop my swinging fist from clipping him on the jaw. He stumbled back against the door and I struck his gut, only for my knuckles to erupt in pain as they impacted on his lamellar armour. I swore furiously, clutching my fist and invoking the name of at least four different gods, too distracted to notice Peeler swinging his spear at me.

The haft impacting against my ribs barely hurt; our close proximity stole most of the force from the blow. More worryingly, the soldier was reaching for the sword on his waist, face contorting angrily. My Foxblood, in concert with years of Ma’s training, worked to help me trap Peeler’s spear beneath my arm. With a sharp twist, I tore it out of his grip, but my adversary already had his blade halfway out its sheath. Unfortunately for him, the wooden butt of my new weapon was already in the optimal location to smash into his face.

I managed to get another two hits in before he waved both hands in front of my weapon, managing to ward off further blows. However, his rushed defence lent me the opportunity to twist the spear sideways and shove it beneath his arms, reducing their range of movement. I slammed my shoulder sideways, into his gut, then attempted to unbuckle his sword. My fingers were supernaturally dextrous, like fish leaping from a stream, and in less than a fraction of a second I had hurled the sheathed blade away, into the darkness of night.

Despite my stolen finesse, I still wasn’t quick enough to stop Peeler’s knee flying into my stomach. I coughed lightly, unable to prevent air from leaving my lungs, and managed to grab his leg. Inspired by one of Sash’s favourite moves, my foot snaked backwards, through his legs and around the crook of his other knee – the ungainly motion impossible were it not for the kinaesthetic awareness the Fox lent me. With a heave, I sent both of us tumbling to the ground.

I slithered out from underneath him as he grunted, trying to rise, and kicked him in the side of the head. The tall man rolled with the force of the blow, yet was still to dazed to clamber to his feet. I kicked him again, but this time there was nowhere to flee to: he was against the brick wall of the offices. Bending down, I grabbed his arms and forced them to his side, then knelt on top of them. With him immobilised, I began swinging.

It had been too easy. I wanted Peeler to be more skilful – to hurt me more. The blood beginning to coat my fists felt slick; a twisted harmony to the tears sliding down my cheeks.

Ma stopped me, as I knew she would. The moment she dragged me through the threshold, I stopped struggling. Peeler would talk with a whistle from now on, but he still breathed. He fared better than Bab, at least.

I followed her up to the offices. Two scribes watched me enter, entirely mute. Ma limped in behind me, and heaved her bulk onto two distinct, armless chairs – I supposed it took a pair to support her mass.

She stared at me for a short time. “It went that badly?” she rumbled.

It took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about. “No, the Fronds are attending the meeting. Begrudgingly.”

My mother bobbed her head for entirely too long a time.

“He kicked me in the head last time I came here.”

“Ah.” Ma lowered her head, looking me in the eye. “Is that what the fight was about?”

I looked away, and nodded. She stared at me for a little bit longer, then sighed and leaned backwards.

“Where’s Vernon, anyway?”

“The Owlblood?” She made a vague gesture. “I have him working on something for me.”

“So,” I glanced around, catching the scribes hurriedly turning their gaze back to their work, as if they hadn’t been staring at me, “what’re you doing, then?”

“I am getting an idea of what needs to be done.” A pile of maps and documents filled with tiny letter and numbers covered the desk of her. “Until I meet with the Fronds and get a better idea of what resources we can use, little can be put in place. However, I can still determine the best arrangement of Blooded.”

“That includes me, right?”

Ma’s eyes widened, briefly.

“You know I’m a Blooded, Ma. I can help.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Ma’s eyelids concealed her thought process.

“Are you sure?” She asked, sightless. “You will be fighting monsters. There is a not insubstantial chance that your… condition will flare.”

My Ravenblood. I hadn’t considered that – if I got blood on me, I could accidentally incorporate more Godsblood. I didn’t want any more cursed divinity in my veins. The power wasn’t worth the price, at least not to me. Even so, I couldn’t just do nothing. I grunted my assent.

“Alright.” Ma exhaled, and opened her eyes to look at me. “You will obey all of my commands, Orvi. Otherwise, I will tie you up in a basement somewhere.”

I flinched, and nodded rapidly. A question pressed at me, yet voicing it might make her revoke her permission. After a brief internal struggle, curiosity won out. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you agree so quickly?”

My mother rubbed her temples. “It is not ideal, however you are old enough to make your own decisions. And even if I wanted to, I cannot prevent you from fighting. You will be safest – and most effective – by my side. Still. Are you sure you are unwilling to remain, and protect your siblings?”

I frowned. “The problem isn’t protecting them from monsters, right? It’s the sickness.”

“I’m surprised you know that.”

“Of course I know,” I proclaimed, scowling slightly. It was common knowledge, though… it might not have been my knowledge. “What do you take me for?”

Ma gave me a flat look.

“Oh, very mature Ma. Let’s not forget you needed the help of a six year-old to learn how to cook.”

“Yes, yes. You are very clever.”

I could detect the sarcasm in her voice. The temptation to pursue the argument was almost unbearable, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. Prodding Ma was sometimes like digging in a minefield, and I could feel myself getting closer to being on the receiving end of a pithy, brutal insult.

The Blooded spoke as I continued my ponderings. “Orvi, there is another topic we must speak of.”

I grunted vaguely. She took that as assent.

“Scribes. Clear out for a moment.” Belatedly, she added a ‘please’ – a word that rarely emerged from my mother’s mouth.

The other occupants of the office ran outside, stumbling slightly, unmindful of Ma’s half-hearted niceties. I understood completely: asking politely was so out of character for her it seemed to stretch past appreciative, wrapping back around into something more malevolent. Knowing it was unintentional didn’t change the effect.

The door slammed shut, and Ma grit her teeth. “The Lizard’s arrival will be dangerous for everyone. I know you will not like this-“

I held up a hand and squinted. Acclimatising to my new senses had been initially difficult, but now my hearing was acute enough to make out three faint sets of breathing, just outside the office. Grinning, I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Oi peepers! Get out of here, before Ma comes out and throws you through a wall!”

Two sets of footsteps hurriedly scurried away, while a third managed to produce a massive thump as they fell onto the ground. I laughed – people getting injured had always been my most beloved style of humour.

My mother was looking at me, wearing a slight smile. She raised an eyebrow. “Making my allies afraid of me is less than ideal, Orvi.”

I paled, scrambling to recover my bravado. “It’s funny, though.” At her silence, I sheepishly directed my gaze towards the floor.

“It is.” Her deep voice was uncharacteristically light. I tilted my head back towards her. Her smile was infinitesimally wider. It vanished when she opened her mouth to continue. “However, we have other issues to talk about.”

I schooled my face into a severe expression.

“I am going to remove more of my Oxblood-“

“What? That’s a stupid-“

“There are reasons-“

“None good enough for-“

“Orvi.” She snapped, tone harsh. “There is a chance I will not survive. And-“

“What are you talking about?” My voice sounded whiny, even to me, but I couldn’t help it. “You’re not going to die! Why would you even say something like that? Are you making some sort of stupid plan that’ll get you killed?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, of course not. However, there is always a chance. You are old enough to handle that possibility.”

I grit my teeth, searching for some sort of rebuttal. “Am I going to die out there?”

Ma’s answer was immediate. “Not if I can help it.”

My lips curled into a grim smirk. “’You are old enough to handle that possibility.’” I parroted in a faux-deep tone, a hollow mockery of her own. “Of course I’m not going to handle it well! Why would you make yourself more likely to die?”

She growled. “If you would listen, child, I might be capable of telling you!”

I leaned backwards, away from her sudden outburst.

“As you have likely noticed, my heel cord has snapped.” I had noticed her limp, and it only took a handful of seconds to puzzle out what a ‘heel cord’ is. “It is not unusual – Oxbloods often accrue tendon injuries due to our weight. It has happened to me before.”

“Maybe you need to go on a diet.” The joke was half-hearted, but habit is a difficult thing to break.

“Maybe you need to be quiet.” A poor riposte, yet Ma had the presence to pull it off. “Losing Oxblood will reduce my weight. It will make it easier to move during the battle.”

“Can’t you get some potions or something? I’m sure Miss Tran would offer a discount.” Immediately after the word ‘discount’ left my mouth, I realised how foolish the proposition was. “Or some other alchemist would, at least.”

Ma shook her head. “Even with alchemical remedies, it would take at least three or four weeks to heal. Most likely longer. I’m no Lizardblood, unlike you.”

With such an injury, it seemed wiser for her to stay out of the battle. I said nothing; even if I managed to persuade her, without Ma fighting, we might outright lose. I couldn’t imagine her dying anyway.

“Before the battle, I’ll be using a bloodtech device to acquire and hold my Oxblood. The process will leave me mostly immobilised.”

I startled, somewhat surprised. The transferral stone we used had never interfered with Ma’s day-to-day activities before. She just jabbed it into her arm and continued cooking, cleaning, and occasionally smacking rude patrons. “Why? Do injuries make it harder to drain Godsblood or something?”

“No,” she grunted, “Vernon is making me a more efficient tool.”

“The Esfarian?” I spluttered. “Why would you trust him? He could make it… poison you, or suck your brains, or steal your blood, or, or…” Struggling, I tried to recall what Owlbloods could do with their particular brand of magic. Plenty of stories went into great detail about the dark work their sigils could wreak.

She snorted, though the sound was empty of humour. “You haven’t had a conversation with him, have you? I believe he spends more time staring at clouds than thinking.”

“That’s just what they want you to think.”

“Sure.” An exasperated wave of the hand was all it took to convey her opinion of my theory. “I need you to carry some messages for me while I’m bedridden.”

My first instinct was to complain jokingly, but I supressed the impulse. “Okay. Why me, though?”

“Lizardbloods are known to be the best couriers. And, excepting Oxblood, Foxblood lends itself best to raw speed.”

“So… when’ll I have to start?” I needed to mentally prepare myself.

“As soon as the meeting finishes, tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll need you to help inform the inhabitants of the north and west sections of the city that we will be fighting there.”

I blinked. “That’s where we live.”

She gave me a flat look. “And?”

“Isn’t that a problem?”

“It’s the least vital area of the Foot, it offers the best cover, and the Lizard will be approaching from that side.”

I swallowed. “What about the restaurant?”

“We will find a new place.”

“But Ma, that’s our home!” The protest was foolish, yet I felt someone needed to make it. “Where’re we going to feed people without it? How are you going to make chits?”

“Orvi, even if it does get destroyed, we can cook anywhere.”

I was too stunned to offer a rebuttal. Dure seemed far closer than it had been, just seconds before.

Ma rubbed her temples. “It’s necessary. And people need to know what is happening. You know people – more than I do, anyway – get them to help.”

A thought struck me. “Where is everyone going to go?”

She breathed out heavily, closing her eyes. “We will figure it out at the meeting.”

“But, don’t they-“

She ground her teeth, eyelids still shut. “Orvi, I do not know. I am tired, I am stressed, and there is still far more work to do.”

A retort bubbled inside my throat, driven by eight years of being obstinate, then died as I looked at Ma. Her dark skin hung off her body in large drapes, while her eyes reflected something great and terrible. With a sudden clarity I saw her as a stranger might: a large, aging woman being smothered by the hide of a more powerful beast.

For the first time in my life, I realised my mother was more human than god.

Swallowing the lump that rose in my throat, I answered. “Okay.” My voice wavered, and I tried again. “Alright. Is there anything else you need?”

A sigh of relief slipped through her lips. “Take care of your siblings. Ensure they eat. I won’t be able to cook for them.”

“Got it. I’ll see if I can clear the areas out.” I rose and strode towards the door, avoiding pieces of paper scattered over the floor.

“Orvi?” I turned around, facing Ma. Despite her size, something about the way she sat behind the desk made her look hunched. Far smaller than she had any right to be.

“Yeah?”

Her voice was gentle. “Make sure to take care of yourself, as well.”

I nodded. I exited the building, nearly tripping over Peeler, still senseless in the dirt. Blood slowly dripped from his mouth. I dragged him inside, using half-remembered medical knowledge to ensure he didn’t drown in his own gore. Afterwards, I locked the entrance using his keys, sliding them under the front door.

I walked into the night. Pressure built in my eyes and I felt like weeping, yet tears never came.