The next day, things were as they should be. The Tevin family was nothing but polite and courteous to those who were leaving them. Goodbyes were exchanged; saddlebags were packed, checked, and rechecked, to make sure Mai and Broken had all the supplies they needed for the great journey ahead. Broken put on his armor and weapons for the first time in a month.

And then they were on their way.

Only so much of Mai’s emotions could be translated into words that day, only so much could even be comprehended by her conscious mind.

But it was all there. Mai felt the rush of exhilaration as she rode away from the farm, knowing she would never return there again. Mai felt the excitement of realizing she could truly ride a horse now, that half-remembered lessons from days of her youth, combined with Broken, Pelt, and Doner’s practical teachings, were together enough to allow her to do this, to experience majesty on such a profound scale.

Mai felt the power as the trees rushed by, as her horse, Swift, rode side by side with Broken’s Aruith. She reflected on how he had gotten his steed, as opposed to how she had gotten hers. Broken had stolen his mount. Hers had been given as a gracious gift.

Wind rippled as the sun waxed glorious overhead, unencumbered by the wrath of nations. Mai thought back to what she remembered of the man who now called himself Ehajdon. When she had met him, only once, many years ago, Ehajdon, then Xanthis, had been nothing but charming, a perfect gentleman. Beyond that, he had seemed nothing if not naïve.

Mai only saw this in retrospect, for back then, she had been as naïve as he was. He had met her once, alone, and they had talked and laughed about how invincible the Arathou Dynasty was, he, the dashing man, who looked too young to be the age he claimed, and she, first daughter and only child to Emperor Mentis IV.

That memory, of them sitting together on a balcony five years ago seemed odd. Mai wondered how Xanthis had grown since then, if, in fact, he had grown at all, for Mai, up until a little over a month ago, had been the same child she had been back then. Mai would reach her twentieth birthday sometime next month, and Xanthis had to be around forty, now.

Mai pictured Xanthis, now Ehajdon I, fighting against Varsis, for that was what the war would be; Minsu and Vedil, against the black-bannered Makini that Varsis represented.

In Mai’s mind, Varsis was everything that Ehajdon was not. Varsis was strong and cold, when Ehajdon was kind and weak. Varsis fought for a House that cared not about the established order of things, and was taking advantage of the chaos to gain more power, whereas Ehajdon was just trying to return things to the status quo.

Mai didn’t know which side she supported. Both had tried to kill her. Mai thought again, briefly about what the Tevin family had said, that she should try to raise her own banner. Mai dismissed the idea as ludicrous again, just as she had the first time. But a nagging thought permeated her, as she rode as the sun set.

Was her rise really so impossible?

Images flashed through Mai’s mind, of her being raised on a throne, of armies fighting for her, and commoners shouting that she was one of them, that she was their Empress, and they would accept no other, for she had their blood.

Mai cringed at the thought. Royal blood was dominant over common. Her father mattered more than her mother. What she was thinking was blasphemy, she knew. There could never be a ruler from the masses.

But the thoughts persisted.

Even as Mai and Broken found an inn, and settled down for the night, the thoughts persisted, and even as she lay in bed, they tormented her still.

But as she thought still through the darkness of the inn room, from the bed, Broken, from the floor, asked her a question.

“Can honor alone make one do things?” he asked, in the night.

“Of course,” said Mai, without thinking. “Honor is what binds us. Honor is what keeps our Empire of millions upon millions of souls, from falling into the chaos of the Outside Lands.”

“And are those who follow the path of honor always rewarded for their actions?” asked Broken.

“If not in this world, in the next,” said Mai.

“What if those others who are honor bound to release them from their charge?” he asked.

Now, Mai knew what he was talking about. The Tevin family. “They are good people,” she said. “They only wish to repay for what they have done, by sparing us pain.”

“But they did nothing wrong,” said Broken sadly. “And I know, as well as I know I am still alive, that those who wish ill to us will find them, and make them suffer if they withhold.”

Mai didn’t know what to say to that. It was almost as if Broken’s calm, perfectly in control exterior was being pulled away, leaving a frightened babe underneath. A babe Mai knew not how to comfort. Nor was she sure she wanted to. “If they die,” she said, “they will be rewarded in Elysium.”

“But what if they find everything they ever believed in is a lie?” asked Broken. “Do you know the stories, of how a new dynasty will be anointed after an old one falls?”

Mai was taken aback by the sudden change in topic. Still, she answered. “The priests say that amidst the fighting, one will come, be anointed by the maintainers of order, and He will bring all together again. And the sages will find Him, out of the ashes of the old, when the time is right.”

“But what if that never happens?” asked Broken. “What if all is for naught?” Shadow of the moon danced through the window and about the room.

“That is impossible,” said Mai.

“How do you know what is and is not possible?” asked Broken. “What do you know about Casari is Koranor?”

The topic being quite suddenly changed again, Mai shifted her mind to discuss. “As I said to you when we met,” she said, “and as I am sure you know, he is a demon, one of the worst who ever existed. A thousand years ago, the scriptures say, he tried to tear down the Arathou Dynasty when it was still young, and establish his own.

“But he lost his war, and was placed inside a crystal prison, by a maintainer, where he was to wait, conscious, but unable to move, until the maintainers of order designed to free him. That has not happened yet.”

“Do you believe in the snakes?” asked Broken. “Do you believe in the Nari?”

“I was taught from a young age that the Nari were the maintainers of order,” said Mai.

“So you believe in the scriptures literally?”

“Of course.”

“Do you believe Casari got what he deserved, to be tormented in eternity, able to think but not move?”

“I believe that any punishment the maintainers of order could give is just and fair,” said Mai. “The Nari are the ones that keep the world from ending.”

“Imagine what that punishment would be like,” said Broken. “Just for a moment. A single moment.”

Perhaps it was due to the darkness of the night, or possibly a darker, different reason, but Mai was able to visualize herself as Casari with ease. She felt the crystal prison, and the horrible lack of everything, that the crystal prison provided.

The scriptures said that Casari, within the prison, could neither see nor hear nor smell nor taste nor touch. For a moment, for the briefest of moments, Mai felt what that would be like on an acute level.

Mai felt the madness, that she knew would come to one in that state, eventually, and she felt the fear, the horror that no matter what she, or Casari, tried to do, nothing would, happen, he would not move, and the world would go on without him.

Forever.

And then the peculiar sensation was gone, and Mai back in her bed, surrounded by the comforting darkness of the night, and no longer the darkness of being blind. Mai shuddered in the transition.

“Why would you make me think of that?” she asked Broken. “And why would you ask me about Casari twice? What are you? A demon worshiper?”

Mai knew she had asked an insulting question immediately, and she knew what the answer to her question was.

“No,” said Broken. “I may have…peculiar beliefs, but I am not that.” Oddly, he didn’t seem that angry. If Mai had posed the question to any of her noble acquaintances, back when she had lived in the Occluded City, they would have been furious.

“I’m sorry,” Mai apologized. “I should never have asked that.”

“You do not need to apologize,” said Broken. “The insult was not meant to be one.”

That was Broken, Mai reflected. A king would have killed her for asking that. A normal servant would have said that he was too lowly to be offended.

But Broken was no ordinary servant. He had sworn to protect her, and, in the strictest sense of the term, he had. Mai knew Broken was something more than a commoner and a warrior. She just didn’t know what.

Sleep.

Morning came, and Mai and Broken traveled that day to a new town. Mai never caught the town’s actual name, but all the talk in it was of the Holy Citadel of the Vedil, and the Makini, who would be coming, coming.

Mai reflected that the calm before the storm was all but over. The storm itself was coming.

The people of the common room in the inn they were staying at were rowdy, rowdy because they didn’t know what was going to happen, what the future might bring. Mai was sympathetic.

That night, there was almost a brawl. Tables were toppled over, and people screamed at those from different regions then they, accusing them of being traitors, or murderers, or something of the sort.

One man, who almost seemed to be a monk, except he lacked the Symbol, was made fun of for that, and asked if he was trying to be insulting to the Holy Caretakers of the Citadel. He squeaked in the negative, but it seemed that he was going to be beaten to a bloody pulp.

Mai, not wanting to watch that, and reflecting that she and Broken had already eaten their meals, and the whole common room seemed to be teetering dangerously on the edge of an all out brawl, to the lamentations of the innkeeper, asked Broken if they could go on up to their room.

“Soon enough,” said Broken. He got up and stood on the closest table, to be noticed. Then, to the room at large, he bellowed, “I command you to be quiet!”

And the room, very suddenly, obeyed. There was an air of authority in Broken’s voice Mai had never heard before, and a sudden feeling that his will was unshatterable. Mai though he might chastise the people in the bar for their foolish behavior, for starting to fight each other because of fear of invasion, instead of banding together to fight the Makini. If Mai had been in Broken’s place right then, that would have been what she had done.

And so, a moment later Mai reflected it was a good thing that she had not been in Broken’s place. For he did something so different entirely. Something so much better.

Broken sang a song Mai had never heard, as well as any bard Mai ever had. He sang from his heart. And while he did, the room was quiet.

And I want before the storm

And I walked before the night

For I traveled on

Into the darkness

And I know how people sleep

People die and people fallen

People think the world is gone

Into the darkness

By my true name-

I won’t let the world go and pass me by

Not again…

Never again…

Once I thought that I could change the world

And thus I became fallen

But now I’m back before the storm

Here in a world that doesn’t want me

So here now I will forge a path

Into the darkness

I know not which side I find myself on

But in all of the truth

I am back

And that’s all that really matters, anyway

With Broken’s last word, the room broke into wild, frantic applause. No one seemed to be sure why they had enjoyed it so much, or why the song had been so appropriate to defuse the situation, but nevertheless, it had worked.

As the innkeeper asked Broken if he wanted a drink on the house, the monk without his Symbol told Broken how thankful he was, that attentions had been turned away from him.

Broken took the drink, spoke to the monk a little while longer, then with a variety of other different people. And then he was done talking, and he and Mai went up to sleep in their room.

When Broken closed the door, Mai couldn’t help but ask, “How did you learn that song?”

“I made it up,” said Broken.

“How did you find the time to do that?” asked Mai. “The song was like something a bard would sing, not a soldier.”

“You would be surprised what time can be found in the world,” said Broken. “And I never really considered myself a soldier. I still don’t.”

“Then what are you?” asked Mai.

“A fallen man,” said Broken, and Mai easily caught the reference to his song.

Suddenly, Mai became aware of how sad the song really was. It was all about losing one’s place, and the ongoing search for finding it again. More than that, for Mai, it seemed incredibly appropriate. She didn’t know what to say.

Broken did, but what he said was in a completely different vein. “I want to teach you something,” he said.

“What?” she asked. The pair of lanterns in the room flickered at a strong wind.

“Do you know why we stay in the same room each night?” asked Broken.

“To save our limited amount of coins,” Mai said.

“Yes,” said Broken. “Of course. But for two other reasons as well. First, to pretend that we are sleeping together. That attracts less suspicion than if I am clearly shown to be your bodyguard.”

Mai was put off by the matter of fact way Broken phrased that, but nodded for him to go on.

“Secondly,” said Broken, “to keep you safe. You do not know how to defend yourself, that is clear.”

Mai remembered how she had struggled against the thugs in the alley, and how easily Broken had been able to subdue them. She nodded again, feeling disappointment in herself for her weakness.

“I wish to teach you to defend yourself,” said Broken.

Mai’s first instinct came straight from the Codes of Sara. She couldn’t learn to fight. Fighting was a man’s art. She was a female. But then she remembered how wrong the Codes of Sara had been about a thousand other things. And more than that, she found within herself a desire to no longer be outclassed by Broken, to understand and even be able to do some of the things he did.

“I will learn,” she said.

“Good,” said Broken. “Your first lesson, of course, is patience. It is late, and so I will teach you nothing else until tomorrow. Goodnight.”

And so they got into bed. As she did so, Mai found herself longing to start learning something real in the way of fighting. Her desire surprised her. She would have thought it would be easy to wait just one more day. Apparently Broken’s first lesson would not be a waste.

Sleep.

The early morning of the next day was a blur to Mai, until they began to saddle Aruith and Swift in the inn’s stable, and prepared to leave. That was when the monk without his Symbol showed up, leading a small horse out from its stall.

Broken greeted him. “Ishad!” he said joyfully. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“I have nowhere else to be,” said the young monk dryly.

“What’s he doing here?” Mai asked Broken, and at her words, the monk cringed.

“Ishad and I spoke of some things last night,” said Broken. “He has nowhere to go, little money, and, more importantly, when he said as such, I believed him. He’s coming with us.”

“Does he know who we are?” asked Mai. She worried that Broken was perhaps making the same mistake she had made, by telling people things they should not know.

“Of course not,” said Broken. “But then again, you don’t even really know who I am.” It was odd how cheerfully he said this.

As if to prove his point, and that moment, Ishad asked, “Who is she?”

“No one you need to worry about,” said Broken. “I already proved to you that I am a friend to your order, did I not?”

His saying that seemed to allay Ishad. Mai, of course, still had no idea why a monk would leave the Holy Citadel to wander, but she was glad that at least somebody had an idea about what was going on.

And so they rode. Mai found it odd when she realized that she was a better rider than Ishad, when she had only been riding for about a month. Of course, Broken had more skill than the both of them combined would probably ever have, so a semblance of order was maintained.

That, night, there was no nearby town, as Broken had decided on them taking a back road, and so they made camp by the side of the road, in a small forest.

Mai hadn’t the slightest clue how one made a camp, but again, Broken provided the skill necessary to balance out both her and Ishad’s negligence, which turned out to be substantial.

Once a fire was roaring, made as such by the timber box Broken had thoughtfully decided to buy, all three sat around it to eat. Ishad had an assortment of almost stale wafers, and so that was their meal, to conserve what they had of food that was not almost inedible.

The night was cold, even though it was summer, and Mai shivered. “Ishad,” she asked the monk, “how did you come to be a wanderer?”

“My lady, it is a sad story,” he said. As those words were spoken, Mai realized Ishad was only her age, in contrast to Broken, who seemed perhaps five years older than either of them.

“I lost my Symbol, lady,” said Ishad. “And thus, for a year and a day, I was ordered to travel aimlessly around the Empire, begging favors from those around me to survive. And so I am.”

Mai had never before heard of such a rule, and she had thought she had known a substantial amount of the monks of the Holy Citadel’s way of life. But she accepted what Ishad said as fact, as Broken had seemed to. And what Broken believed, it seemed, was always true.

“How did you lose your Symbol, Ishad?” asked Mai.

“I’d rather not say,” Ishad replied. Then, in a very unmonkish way, he asked, “So what’s your story? How did you come to be wandering? Broken only hinted.”

And at that moment, Mai realized suddenly that Broken had stepped away from the fire to gather more wood for its continued existence. Mai thought she could see Broken a good way into the forest, but for all intents and purposes of her conversation with Ishad, he was gone.

“I would rather not say, myself,” Mai said.

“I am risking my very life by traveling in the company of strangers,” said Ishad. “The least you can do is become a little less strange to me.”

A sudden question came to Mai, and she asked it. “How long into that year and a day of wandering are you?” she asked.

Ishad sighed. “My lady, I left the Holy Citadel eight days ago.”

Mai suddenly felt a surge of empathy. Ishad was a wanderer, thrown from everything he ever knew, and just starting to find his new place. Of course, he could eventually go back, but to Mai, such was a technicality. She had found someone she could identify with.

Broken was her protector, and so it seemed he would always remain. But his story, it seemed, was not so tragic. In fact, it very much seemed he had saved her because he had nothing better to do.

“I am sorry for you,” said Mai.

“Do not be, my lady, for my wandering is a curse, and one I fully deserve.”

“If I cannot know what you did,” said Mai, “I cannot be sure.”

“The way I lost my Symbol is very personal, my lady,” said Ishad, and it did not seem as if Mai would get much more from him in this manner. She decided to change tactics.

“Who do you think I am, then?” asked Mai. “I will not tell you mine. You must guess.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mai looked at Broken. He seemed far enough away to not hear anything. Mai wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it did.

“I would say you are a lady of high descent,” Ishad said.

That much did not surprise Mai. She assumed Broken had said as much, and beyond, one did not call another my lady over and over again unless they thought there was a reason to use the title.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“You have a smoother accent than most,” said Ishad. “Its exact tone tells me that not only are you a noble, but you are from the Tachen regions. With that knowledge, and the fact that seem to be wandering yourself, with but a single bodyguard, I would guess you are a refugee from the Imperial City, trying to find allies in a world that may well seem to have gone mad around you.”

Mai was amazed. “You knew all that from the timber of my voice?” she said.

“Yes, my lady,” said Ishad. “That is my gift. I can tell where anyone is from just by listening to them. My gift, in fact, is the reason for me becoming a monk in the first place. I would tell the story to you, if you would like to hear it.”

“I would,” said Mai.

“I was born of House Amzu,” said Ishad, “into a merchant family. We lived on the Island, in a secluded fishing town, but we traveled often, far and wide, from our lands all the way out to the deserts of House Dunesis. And in this time, I discovered my special talent.

“My parents, for they were suppositious, thought that I was reading the minds of the people I used my talents on. They wouldn’t believe anything else. They thought that I was possessed. And so, after a period of time deciding what to do, they sent me off to the Holy Citadel, to become a monk.

“I did as much, but when the monks found out about my gift, they saw it for what it was. They knew it had nothing to do with evil. I was my parents’ second son, but I had always wanted to strike of on my own and found a merchant company. I wanted to renounce my vows, but I found I could not. It would mean much dishonor, and that, I will not have. Unlucky winds bore me to the Holy Citadel a year ago, and there I will remain.” He sounded sad.

“I’m sorry for you,” said Mai.

“Don’t be,” Ishad replied, but he seemed to regret the words a moment later. “I suppose, my lady, that I’m not your average monk.”

Mai wasn’t sure what to say to that, and was relieved of the duty when Broken returned, carrying a load of firewood in his arms. He dumped it all a safe distance from the fire, and then carefully fed the conflagration a stick. Broken then sat down, and lay back on the grass.

A thought occurred to Mai. “Last night, you said you would teach me to fight,” she said to him. “Now the day is all but over.”

As Broken did not respond for a moment, Mai thought that perhaps things had changed when Ishad had become part of their group. Maybe Broken didn’t want to show her anything in front of Ishad.

It seemed that was the case, but Broken was not shy. “Get up, and step back a dozen paces,” he told the monk, “then get back down on the ground and go to sleep. We will do the same soon enough, but my charge must learn a few things first.”

Ishad was not fool enough to argue with Broken. He did as he was asked, with a silent nod.

And then Broken faced Mai, who stood to meet him.