At last, the great Asan Paril itself had come into view from the carriage window. The road ran parallel to the city, before turning and heading to the gate, so for a few minutes, Mai and Ishad had a perfect view.

And what a sight it was. Perfectly white walls glistened, and Mai saw Asan Paril against the backdrop of the ocean behind it. Asan Paril was built at the side of the Paril River, and it lacked walls on the side that touched the water. Mai from her angle, could see little of that, but she could see enough to hint.

As the road to Asan Paril’s main gate began to began to turn, and become parallel to the river, not the city, Mai saw all the traffic on the river. Further downstream, there was desolation.

Here, there was celebration.

From one of the ships on the river, a blocky, black thing without visible sails, fireworks shot out, staining the blue sky. Beside the river, Mai could see viewers watching, and clapping at appropriate times.

Other ships headed to and from the Asan Paril port. Here, however, there was one sign of the chaos in other lands. No ships were heading upriver. But that seemed to do little to dampen the festive mood. Many, many ships were heading out into the ocean, and that had to make up for the lack of ships heading in the other direction.

As their carriage merged with other traffic heading into the city, and the archway main gate of Asan Paril was about to swallow them up, Mai continued to reflect.

There were some cities larger than Asan Paril, but they were few. There were some cities older than Asan Paril, but they were scarce. There were even a limited number of cities, Barad included, that were more of a center of culture than Asan Paril. But Asan Paril had something on all of its city brethren.

Asan Paril was the only city to have never been taken by force. Armies had come to it, during times of war, and burnt the lands and towns around it, but those armies had never pierced the white walls. Not once, and quite likely, not ever.

Mai let a smile come to her face as they passed through the gates, passed through the soldiers and the gate waving on incoming traffic. Asan Paril had never fallen, and it was quite likely that it never would. She was safe.

Mai looked over, and saw that the rocking of the cart had lulled Ishad to sleep. He was lightly snoring. While his strength seemed to have returned to him, he was rather tired, as of late.

Then, Claw-Back, who had been sitting quietly on the ground, so quietly Mai had forgotten she was there, fluttered up, and landed on Mai’s lap.

Broken had convinced her and Ishad to let Claw-Back stay with them, as, if they had entered Asan Paril with a gargantuan black owl sitting on their driver’s shoulder, it would have looked suspicious. Now, she was starting to regret their decision.

The owl urgently hooted on her lap, staring straight at her.

“What is it?” asked Mai. “You know I can’t understand you.”

But the owl just continued to hoot.

Mai reached over and closed one of the blinds, to keep passerby from seeing what was going one inside the carriage, but as she moved over to the window on her side, the giant owl hopped onto her head, and pecked at the window.

And suddenly, Mai realized what the owl was trying to show her.

There was a man in a black cloak, hooded, and walking quickly through the streets of Asan Paril. But that was not interesting.

What frightened Mai about the man was that he was exactly pacing the carriage, taking due care to stay exactly in the same position relative to the carriage, as it moved through the streets. He was tall, and somehow, he moved with a grace.

Suddenly terrified, Mai pulled closed the blinds, and Claw-Back hopped off her head.

Claw-Back landed in Mai’s lap, again, and started scratching at the air with a claw.

“What is it?” Mai asked, aware that the owl wanted something, and that they were now playing a game of charades to get it.

Through everything, Ishad remained fast asleep.

The owl continued to scratch at the air with a single claw, and made sudden, urgent hoots.

“You want to write something?” asked Mai, taking a guess.

The owl flicked her head up and down.

Mai reached for the saddlebags, as the owl hopped back to the floor. “Let’s see if we have something to write with,” she muttered.

Mai grasped the first saddlebag she could reach, opened it, and pawed through it. There was nothing that could be used to write with, inside.

Of course there isn’t, thought Mai. Who would have thought that a pen and paper would be necessary for our journey?

Just as the nagging feeling came to Mai that Broken, being Broken, should have found a way to prepare for this, in the second saddlebag, she found all three things necessary, pen, ink, and piece of parchment, all rather close to each other.

Mai got off the bench, knelt on the floor, flattened the parchment out on the bench, inked the pen, and handed it in the direction of the owl, who had hopped up onto the bench to replace Mai.

Mai had no idea how the owl intended to write with the pen, but Claw-Back found a way. She darted at the pen with her mouth, and grasped it solidly. However, the pen was now held in a horizontal position, so, to accommodate for the new challenge, Claw-Back twisted her head all the way down to the side, until the pen brushed against the paper.

Somehow, the bird began to make her scratches into words, and Mai got the feeling that Claw-Back had done this before.

Claw-Back wrote something that looked like a straight angled J, but soon enough, transformed into an N. She then repositioned herself. Then next letter looked like an H, except in the end it turned out to be an A. When the third letter, which started out as a P, began to turn into an R, Mai realized what Claw-Back was writing.

“That was a Nari following us, wasn’t it?” Mai breathed.

Claw-Back dropped the pen, and vigorously nodded.

“Do you know why the Nari was following us?” she asked.

The bird shook its head no.

“How did you know?” Mai asked.

The owl took up the pen again, and, with just as much difficulty as before, wrote two words. Just can.

Mai put the paper, the pen, and the ink away, and got back on her seat, while Claw-Back, ruffling her feathers self-importantly, sat back down on the carriage floor.

Mai gathered the courage to open her blind again. The black-cloaked Nari was gone.

Mai decided not to tell Broken about the Nari until after they had stopped. If Claw-Back had not thought the information important enough to tell Broken immediately, she could wait as well.

And so she did. Looking over at Broken, Mai saw the excitement had not awoken him; he was still asleep.

Mai settled back in her seat, worried about the Nari, whose motives she could not begin to guess at, and worried if she was doing the right thing by waiting to tell Broken.

Through the window, Mai saw bustling streets. And then she saw the palace. No, not a palace. The Palace. It was called as such in some circles. It was multistoried, brilliant, and bright, and courtyards around it were filled with fountains. Mai had never been in Asan Paril before, but legend had it that some of the streets were paved with gold. And it turned out, the legend was correct. Perhaps not in the way Mai had imagined, it, but still. The paths around the Palace were all lined with gold.

The Palace was not built to withstand a siege, the elegant balconies, and high towers attested to that. The designers had expected all attacks on the city to be turned away at the city walls, and indeed, all had been. The Palace was nothing more than a giant sculpture.

And Broken rode their small run down carriage right up to the small gatehouse at the edge of the security fence surrounding it all.

Does he have no tact? Mai wondered. We’re not going to convince the guard to let us through like this!

Broken and the guard exchanged a few words, and then a few sentences, and then a second guard was called over. But still, Broken did not leave. His two-horse carriage meant for three stayed put.

Behind them, a much more noble carriage pulled up. Mai watched the driver of that carriage get up, walk over to where Broken and the guards were arguing. He joined in.

After a moment, Mai would have thought he would join the guards against Broken, but that did not prove to be the case. He seemed to be taking Broken’s side. Then, as Mai watched, Broken rolled up his right sleeve of his ever-present black leather armor, and showed the others his snake tattoo.

And instead of believing that he was no noble, and hauling him off to be executed, the driver of the other carriage and the guards both seemed to be rather awed.

It was at this point that the nobles in the carriage behind Mai’s carriage got out and came over to the argument, rather annoyed in their own right.

Everyone exchanged a few more words, and Broken made sure the newcomers saw the tattoo before he rolled down his sleeve.

The Broken held up a hand, as if to tell the five others to wait a moment, and then he went over to the carriage, with Mai inside.

Broken opened the carriage door for her, like a butler, and, against her better judgment, Mai stepped out.

As they came over to the two guards, the driver, and the two nobles, Mai became conscious of all five of them staring at her.

“This is the Princess Maiako as Arathou del Tachen?” asked the driver, incredulously.

“Indeed,” said Broken.

“That’s no lady,” said the lady noble, ruffling a fan over herself, to cool her body under its green dress. The summer was still in full force.

“No way,” said one of the guards. “That’s just some commoner you picked up on some random street.”

“Now, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull,” said the other guard. “You may well be a noble, as I don’t know who else would want such a tattoo, but she is most certainly not. Get gone before we throw you both in prison.”

Broken leaned over, and whispered in Mai’s ear. “Now would be the time you go on a rant, Princess,” he said. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

Interestingly, though, it was the next line that convinced Mai to do what Broken wanted her to do.

“No royalty would be caught dead in those commoner clothes,” said the lady noble. “And no royalty would look as ill-groomed as you do. Now, bow to your betters, and get gone.”

Mai stared at the noblewoman for a moment, and gathered herself together. Then she began.

“I have a question for you, madam.” said Mai, adopting her most haughty noble tone. “If you were dragged through mud, shot at, and almost killed not once, but several times, would you still look elegant?” The tone felt strange on her tongue. She had not spoken with it in quite some time.

Mai looked at the lady in response, but the noblewoman was quiet. She was starting to understand.

“The only reason I survived any of the madness, is because this noble here, this one who calls himself Broken, as an alias, took it upon himself to keep me alive, at any and all costs to himself,” said Mai. “My jewels were stolen by thieves, but still, I am here, at a place that is supposed to be a safe refuge.”

She looked at all around her. “But this is what I get! Suspicion!”

The noblewoman seemed to have slightly recovered. “Well, you taught her well, one who calls yourself Broken,” she said. “But you did not teach her well enough to fool me.”

However, the two guards, the butler, and indeed, the other noble, all seemed to think differently. They looked at Mai with a newfound respect, and she was quite sure that now, it would be quite easy for Broken to talk his way into seeing Lord Tur is Ashat, who would recognize her on sight. But now, Mai had a small vendetta to play out.

Mai looked straight at the noblewoman. “Well, Selri as Anbe del Karaki, it is not as if your senses are what they could be, so forgive the others if they do not take credence to your words.”

Still, Selri did not catch on. “How do you know my name?” she asked, sounding a little frightened. She would be more than frightened a moment later.

“I know your name,” said Mai, “because, one year ago, you were quite the scandal of the Occluded City.”

Mai almost smiled, upon seeing the noble take a small step away from Selri.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, commoner!” said the noblewoman.

Mai let the smile play out on her face. Oh, yes, Selri deserves what is coming. Mai had been insulted too much recently. There was no more doubt in her mind about whether or not to set off the fireworks display.

“One year, ago, Selri,” she said, “if you recall, you were visiting the Imperial Palace, for some reason or another. There was a party, you got drunk, and,” she paused for the kicker, “in the morning, stable hands found you curled up against a pig in the stables, breathing contently.”

Broken chucked outright, the guards and the driver gave Selri odd looks, and the nobleman took another, fuller step away from her.

“Is this true, Selri?” he asked. It was a terrible faux pas for a noblewoman to drink anything strong, at all, a larger one to get noticeably drunk, and, for sleeping in the stables with pigs--

Mai was quite surprised Selri had been able to find a man who had not heard that little tale.

“My cup was laced,” said Selri, with a surprising amount of dignity.

“And then,” said Mai, “you just happened to stumble around the building, out to the courtyard, around to the stables, and, inside to the part with the pigs? No, my dear Selri. Some part of you wanted to be with them, I am afraid.”

“My God,” said one of the guards, the one who had, before, delivered a speech about how Mai’s clothes were that of a commoner. “She really is…”

“There’s no way a commoner would have known that,” said the other guard, looking at his fellow soldier.

“It seems I have learned a great thing from this chance encounter, Princess,” said the nobleman, speaking his first words to Mai, and dropping into a deep bow. He wore tan clothing, and a golden chain around his neck. Raising himself back up, he said, “Hiro is Varad at your service, my lady.”

Selri shot him a disgusted look, but no one seemed to care what she thought, any more.

“Now, let’s get this lady into the Palace, shall we,” said Hiro, gesturing widely. “We have been standing out here far too long, now.”

Broken started back to the carriage, but Hiro shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “My driver will take care of that.”

“First, though,” said Broken, “we must take out our third person.”

He came back with Ishad. Ishad seemed very, very tired still, and his eyes looked only half open. He seemed unsteady on his feet, and acknowledged the others with a dim nod.

“He’s a friend,” said Broken. “A good friend, by the name of Ishad. He’s just been a little sick, lately.”

A look of concern flashed over Hiro’s face, but whether it was real or faked, Mai couldn’t be sure. “Then, let’s get you all into the palace all the quicker,” said Hiro. “Let’s go in my carriage.”

And so, the four of them got into his carriage, and the driver carefully maneuvered around the now-abandoned one that blocked most of the entrance, and continued to travel, slowly riding for the stables, through the courtyard.

Inside Hiro’s carriage, there was a large red cushioned bench arranged in a semicircle all around the carriage door. The inside of the carriage was lusciously upholstered. Mai would be hard pressed to find a carriage more different than the one she had been riding in before.

On one side of the bench sat Hiro, and on the other side of the bench sat Mai, Broken, and Ishad, in that order. Mai took note of the way Hiro had smoothly left Selri standing at the front gate.

“So,” said Hiro, looking at his three guests, and stretching his arms out to rest on the top of the bench cushions, on either side of him. “The first of the three newcomers to my carriage on this fine day is the Princess Maiako as Arathou del Tachen. The second guest is her protector, a noble himself, a man who goes by the alias Broken, but is of House…”

Broken was silent for a moment. “That I cannot say,” he said at last.

Hiro looked put off for a moment, but only for a moment. “Of course, of course,” he said at last. “In these chaotic times, we would not want our House to be known, especially if our House is questionable. You are a Makini, I assume. Or a Minsu, worried about what will happen if the aforementioned House begins to gain power. I understand completely.” Hiro paused. “Of course, as a noble of Asan Paril, I do not have to worry about such things, as I have no House. It is good to have my allegiance be to a neutral city. I don’t have to worry about getting involved in a messy war.” For a moment, it seemed Hiro was going to drift off into a segue, but he brought himself back on topic. “So,” he said. “I have told you something about me. Now, tell me something of yourselves. What does Maiako as Arathou del Tachen hope to gain from Asan Paril, I wonder?”

“Safety here,” said Mai. “I wish to end my travels, and stop running.” For some reason, she felt suspicious of Hiro, but she couldn’t see the harm in telling him that much, at least.

“Ah, I see,” the noble responded. Being a city of safe refuge in a harsh world is what Asan Paril is known for, after all.”

Around them, the carriage began to stop.

“I see we have reached the area where we disembark,” said Hiro. He went to the door, and held it open as Mai and the others stepped out.

They were on a path, leading to a door to the Palace. The carriage was still on a road that would lead to the stables. Hiro gestured to the driver, who continued riding on his way. The carriage had soon passed through another of the Palace doors, and was gone from sight.

Then the group of four headed for the main entrance. It was a huge marble archway, the height of three people, with snakes sculpted around the edges. Massive double doors were held open, wooden, yet enforced with thick iron bands.

The group concluded the path, and entered through the maw.

The first room inside was just as marble as what was on the out. It was huge, and its centerpiece was a gargantuan marble staircase, spiraling up from the center of the room, to reach balconies above. Looking at the staircase, Mai got a little dizzy. There were railings, but it seemed the staircase continued up for two floors, or maybe ninety feet. If someone was pushed off the top…well, Mai didn’t want to think about that.

She wasn’t sure why she was quite so morbid. Perhaps her current thoughts were due to her experiences as of late.

Aside from the architecture, the room was occupied by a great number of people, of all different sorts, all taking or bustling to and fro. A group of attendants processed records behind a marble desk. This staircase base clearly also served as the lobby of the Palace.

“To see Tur is Ashat,” said Hiro, “we must ascend all of the stairs.” He gestured widely at the staircase, quite unnecessarily.

The four walked over to said massive construction, and began to climb. The stairs themselves seemed to have been positioned just so, in a manner so that it did not feel Mai was climbing stairs, merely walking, and in the process of that, somehow going up.

They passed a great deal of traffic on the stairs, most of which acknowledged Hiro with a crisp nod. Soon they reached the landing at the second floor, which was more or less a railed causeway between the staircase, and the safety of a more normal second floor hallway, which seemed much less foreboding.

Hiro glanced at Mai, as she in turn was glancing down at the lobby floor below, and all the tiny people walking on it.

“The view is grand, is it not?” he asked. Hiro continued. “This staircase was crafted to give the feeling of walking on air, to those upon it.”

“Yes,” said Mai. “The view is grand.”

They continued up the spiral staircase, from the second floor to the third. The third, as Mai had noticed previously, was the highest level. As she crossed the causeway to the main third floor hall, she made a deliberate effort to not look over the railing. The railing itself was only four feet high, and it would be too easy to lean too far and plummet over the edge.

Once the four reached the hallway, the mood of the building changed. Instead of marble splendor, in the main third floor hallway, there was brown brooding. The walls were of dark polished wood, and paintings of different historical figures. Chandeliers above gave off enough light to see by, but the hall still seemed rather dark. Closed doors lined the walls, and what seemed to be a maze of hallways extended off of the main third floor hall.

The hall was crowded, much like the lobby and stairs had been, but here, the lighting and mood made everything seem much more desolate.

After walking what seemed to be the length of a city block, the four came to a set of closed double doors, and the far end of the hallway.

Hiro grasped a handle, and pulled one of the doors open, holding it that way until Mai, Ishad, and Broken all entered. Only then did Hiro enter himself.

Mai didn’t know what she had been expecting, but what she saw was not it. The room they had walked into was small, gray, and had another door at its far end. However, instead of being crowded with courtiers, the room was filled with eight guards in white, four on each side of the room. All of them held weapons.

One approached the visitors.

“You have reached the antechambers of the apartments of the Lord Tur is Ashat, of Asan Paril,” said the senior guard, with a tight grasp on his halberd. The senior guard looked at Mai and Ishad in distaste. “State your business, if you wish to enter.”

“I am Hiro is Varad, brother to the Lord of the Second Paril, as you well know,” said Hiro. “I have very important guests for him to see.”

“You will be let through,” said the senior guard in white. “However, if Lord Ashat dislikes your visit, you shall not be let through again.”

A second guard stepped up. “Surrender your weapons,” he said. “They will be returned to you when you leave.”

Broken placed his sword and sheath into the bag that the guard proffered, and Hiro did likewise. When it came to be Ishad’s turn, however, his movements were stumbling, and blocky. He still seemed exhausted.

The guards quickly patted down the three men for weapons, and then opened the door to Lord Ashat’s apartments.

All four walked through.

Inside, the apartments were what one might expect from the apartments of a great lord. Priceless treasures littered the sitting room, and everything seemed to be themed in white. A pair of guards standing at the edge of the room acknowledged the newcomers with nods.

“Sit down,” said one of the guards. “Lord Ashat should be with you shortly.”

And so Mai, Broken, Ishad, and Hiro all sat down on various chairs and couches, and waited for the lord’s arrival.

And soon he came. In sharp contrast to Hiro’s blandness, Lord Tur is Ashat was one to be quite easily picked out from a crowd. He was a tall man, with a six-foot frame. Ashat was in his mid-thirties, and his hair was completely gray, but the most noticeable thing about him was his eyes. His right was completely normal, brown, and intelligent, but his left was simply…not there. Closed eyelids drooped over nothing.

When Lord Ashat had been a young boy, he had been in an accident that had made him lose his eye, but since then, he had refused to wear a patch, saying that patches were for those who had something to hide.

Now, he entered the room, and sat in the remaining chair, across from the couch where Mai sat, with Hiro next to her.

“I was informed I had visitors,” said Tur, looking at them all.

It took only one survey for Tur to see who they were. “Ah, Hiro,” he said. “It seems you have brought a very interesting guest.” He nodded at Mai. “And also, it seems, she has a pair of companions. Am I correct?”

“You are indeed, my lord,” said Hiro. He now was removed from the grace he had displayed to Mai. Here, he seemed somehow like a dog bowing to his master.

Mai glanced at Ishad and Broken, to see their reactions.

Ishad, sitting in a chair to Mai’s left, stared vaguely at a spot on the far wall. He still seemed completely out of it. Broken, on the other hand, had leaned back into his chair, seemingly relaxed, and was regarding Lord Ashat calmly. Nothing fazed him, and certainly not a half-blind man a mere four inches taller that he was. Mai was at least somewhat sure that was how Broken regarded things.

“So, Maiako as Arathou del Tachen, what brings you to Asan Paril?” asked Tur is Ashat.

“Life,” said Mai. “Since the untimely death of my father, life had been against me. It seems as if the only thing the Ehajdon loyalists and the Makini can agree on is that I must die.”

“Because you are a threat to the order both groups wish to create,” Tur is Ashat easily completed, a little too easily for Mai’s peace of mind.

“Yes, Lord Ashat.”

“So you want to seek refuge here,” said the Lord of Asan Paril.

“Yes, Lord Ashat.”

The frown that had been growing on Tur is Ashat’s face suddenly brightened into a smile, much to Mai’s surprise. “Your refuge is secure,” said Tur. “As long as Asan Paril’s white walls endure, you can have a place here.”

“I thank you,” said Mai.

“I know you do, Princess.” Tur is Ashat then turned to Hiro. “Thank you for escorting my three visitors here, Lord Varad,” said Tur is Ashat. “But, I have heard you have left a certain lady unattended, at the gate to the Palace, and she is making quite a fuss against you, or so I hear. Perhaps you should go deal with her, and let me talk to these three alone.”

Hiro took the hint. He bowed, and left the room for the antechamber.

“Now that he is gone, I have a suspicion that you three will be more forthcoming,” said Tur. “Am I correct?”

“You are, my lord,” said Mai. “What do you wish to know?”

“The identity of your two companions, for a start,” said Lord Ashat, looking at Broken and Ishad in turn.

Mai realized that she had not told Ishad that Broken was a lord, and that the truth would have to come out sometime.

Then, with a start, she realized that Hiro had already said as much in Ishad’s presence, in the carriage, and he had not reacted. There was something wrong with him. There had to be. But for a moment, Mai put her fears aside, to speak.

She looked over at Broken. “This, Lord Ashat, is one who goes by the alias Broken. He is a noble, though he will not tell me from what House. However, his loyalty is assured. He swore to me, and has saved my life more that once.”

“Welcome to my apartments, Broken,” said Tur is Ashat. The Lord of Asan Paril noted the comfortable way in which Broken was sitting. “I see you have already made yourself at home.”

“Why stand on ceremony when doing so accomplishes nothing?” Broken asked. Mai could scarcely believe Broken had said what he had just said to a High Lord. But then again, Broken might well be a High Lord himself.

“You have an interesting manner about you,” said Lord Ashat to Broken. “You seem to be a man of chance, of whim.”

It was odd how accurate that statement seemed to be, Mai reflected.

“Indeed,” said Broken. “But I can be more appropriate, if the situation calls for it.” He stood, and performed a perfect bow. “Broken, at your service, my lord.” Broken then sat back down, and eased back into his chair.

Tur is Ashat stared at Broken for an extra moment, and then turned to Ishad. “Your other friend does not look well in the body,” he said, “much as your first does not look well in the mind.”

“Touché,” said Broken.

“Yes,” said Mai. “Ishad does not look well.”

“I’m fine,” said Ishad, haltingly. “You have a nice place here, my lord. I am rather tired, though.”

“Perhaps a good night’s rest will make you better,” said Tur is Ashat. “And if not, my physicians can have a look at you in the morning.”

Ishad nodded. “Thank you. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

“Guards!” Tur is Ashat called through the door, and one poked his head into the apartment. “Go find Broken and Ishad here rooms, and prepare another for the lady. I will talk to her a little bit longer, but Broken and Ishad will go with you.”

The guard nodded, and, as soon as Broken and Ishad had left the room, closed the door behind them.

“Ah, we are alone now, Mai,” said Tur is Ashat, reverting to a more connected form of address, one that made Mai feel more comfortable.

“I hope you were not too put off by Broken and Ishad, Lord Ashat,” said Mai. “Ishad seemed rather sick today, and Broken…well, he’s always like that.”

“Don’t call me Lord Ashat,” said the Lord of Asan Paril. “Call me Tur. I would not call you by your first name, and not allow you to treat me likewise.”

“Thank you,” said Mai.

“I will admit, that when I heard the news of the chaos in the Imperial City, I was very frightened for your safety,” said Tur. “I am very, very glad, that you survived, and that you came here, for now I can protect you.” He paused. “But your companions did not seem to fit you, Mai,” he said. “How much do you really know about them?”

“Enough,” said Mai. She felt like she could trust Tur, and so she related the story of how she and Broken had met, how he had saved her from Varsis’ man, and how he had saved her many times after that. She also told of Ishad, enough to make it clear of their relationship.

“Ishad’s an ex-monk?” laughed Tur. “He’s quiet enough to play the part, at least.”

“He’s not usually like that,” said Mai. “He was seriously wounded in Barad, about a week ago, and even though he was healed, he hasn’t really been the same since.”

“How does one get severely injured in Barad?” asked Tur. “The city has not fallen under Makini control yet, and it has a reputation for being an enjoyable city to visit. My own trips there were quite pleasant.”

“A warrior named Savel is Varad challenged Ishad to a duel,” said Mai. She paused, hesitant to reveal why exactly the duel had been called. After Broken’s impression on Tur is Ashat, the last thing she wanted was for the Lord of Asan Paril to think any worse of him. “Savel is Varad defeated Ishad, and injured him badly.”

“Savel is Varad?” said Tur. “Did this Savel happen to say if he was Lord of the Second Paril, in his challenge?”

“I believe he did,” said Mai.

“Then I fear you have not seen the last of him,” said Tur. “The Second Paril is the second of the four noble families in this city. He has returned from his excursion in Barad, and is here now.”

In truth, Mai had always known that the Second Paril was a family in Asan Paril. She had just, in her hope to make Asan Paril seem to her more like a place of safety, ignored that tiny detail.

But now, Mai felt the safety of the city begin to unravel. This was not supposed to happen, especially not yet. She had not even spent a single night within the city walls.

Why was she afraid? Because even though Mai had wanted to put all the blame on Broken for what had happened, she still knew Savel had been the one to enact the deed.

Tur is Ashat saw Mai’s distress. “It is all right, my dear,” he said. Though it seemed impossible for one of his scarred and massive figure to be comforting, he managed it. “If I did not let your father, my liege Emperor, lay his hands on you that day, I would certainly not let one of my own lords hurt you, or anyone you loved. Not in my city.”

Mai’s memory flashed back to that time. Two years ago, that night, Emperor Mentis had been in a rage, a terrible rage. Mai had angered him, by refusing to wear to a dance a particular low-cut dress he had wanted her to. For the dress had been more than low-cut. Parts of it had been more or less nonexistent.

And that night, as Mai had whimpered before her father, on the floor, Tur is Ashat had entered the room, otherwise empty, except for guards.

He had braved Emperor Mentis’ wrath, and in the end, Mai had not been punished.

“I thank you for your support,” Mai whispered.

“Anything for you, dear,” said Tur. “Savel often loses all his inhibitions when he lacks oversight, but with my eye on him, he will not come near you. You should be aware, though, Hiro, the lord who brought you here, is Savel’s younger brother.”

Mai had not known that.

The world suddenly became another bit more frightening.