"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"

Kalia's lips hadn't stopped moving since she'd fallen.

"I'm sorry too, Kalia," Llain whispered. He brushed a sweaty lock of hair away from her face before turning and walking away. The unending litany was too much for him to bear, and he needed to find some tangible way to help.

It had taken five of them, Llain plus four alchemists he had coerced into helping, to move Kalia to safety as the fire spread through the alley. A line of them continued to pass buckets back and forth to the nearest fountain, fighting the geysers of flame that belched forth from their toppled machines to fill the streets instead of the sky.

Llain could see strange creatures in the flames while his mind wandered, as if dragons and serpents lay coiled within the metal waiting to snap at any who dared draw near. The alchemists had given up on disabling the machines after enough of them were struck down; now they merely sought to stop the fire's spread.

And all the while, Kalia lay next to the master alchemist she had saved, whimpering strings of gibberish and an unending series of apologies to some nightmare that Llain couldn't end no matter how much he shook her.

"Can you point me to the individual running this circus?" came an imperious voice and Llain flinched even as he turned to face it.

An old man had come upon him while Llain lost himself in the flames.Fine silk draped the man's narrow frame, a wooden cane clacking on the pavers as he stopped a few feet away. Llain saw the glint of jewels as the man rested his hands on the cane, a questioning lift of a single, well-plucked eyebrow causing Llain to quail for a moment. A one-armed servant and a large hound waited behind him at a respectful distance.

Without thinking Llain adopted the same stance he'd take if a wealthy client visited the smithy, head bowed and hands folded politely behind his back as he struggled to think.

"I— err, that is— I'm not in charge of—," Llain finally managed to say. "I was just here when—"

The old man cleared his throat. "At no point was that in question," he said rolling his eyes. "Let us start with something simpler, then. My name is Wallamir, and in order to determine what happened I will need you to answer some questions. First: did you see the man who started the fire?"

Llain's brain struggled to change subjects and he pointed helplessly at the master alchemist where he lay on the ground. "This was the— it was an accident I think," Llain forced out. Wallamir's servant stared at Kalia with an odd interest as he moved forward to examine the alchemist. Llain inserted himself protectively over Kalia with a glare.

"Who dispelled the magic?" Wallamir asked. When Llain didn't respond he inserted himself between Llain and the servant. "Grist, leave it. There will be time later," Wallamir said to the servant before turning.

"You," he continued by jabbing a finger at Llain's chest. "Who dispelled the magic that was on him? The remnants are still clinging to him, but I can't see the trees for the gods damned magic forest that got dumped on us."

Llain parsed through the big words as Wallamir waved his hands through the air around them. "It was her," Llain answered. "My friend Kalia saved him somehow, and the weird silver webs just kind of went away." He fluttered his fingers through the air in demonstration.

"Let us see, then." Wallamir crouched down next to Kalia, and Llain felt a moment of alarm as he pried open her fingers to see the amulet still clutched there. He spit a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground in disgust. "Theurgy," he scoffed. "Delightful."

"Wallamir, what does that mean" the servant named Grist asked, and Llain focused in hope he might understand some small portion of what was happening around him.

"My spells are useless here," Wallamir answered with a sigh. His fingers massaged his forehead. "Those silly priests follow none of the standardized forms and have a nasty habit of destroying evidence of their meddling. It is impossible for me to mimic the negations she used. We've wasted our time, I fear."

"Now wait," Llain interjected. "You can't just show up, nose around my friend, and then leave. What's going on here?"

"I haven't the faintest," Wallamir said. "And therein lies the problem. Some nasty spellwork has ensnared the city, and your— friend— destroyed any evidence I might use to determine who did it, for what purpose, and what I might do to stop it."

"But she stopped it, didn't she?" Llain asked in confusion. "The master alchemist seems fine now, even if he's still sleeping it off."

Wallamir let out a wordless exclamation of frustration and Grist stepped close to lead him aside.

"It's not just your friend or the alchemist," Grist said in a scratchy voice. Llain wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol wafting off the man, but did his best to feign a normal expression. "People dropped all over the market, and we found more on our way here. All covered in those weird magical webs you saw, and all in enough pain that— even unconscious— they're crying out for help."

Llain felt his stomach drop as the implications piled up in his mind. "But Kalia just barely saved him," he said. "There's no way that she could—"

"No, we'll need something a titch more powerful than a lone priest-in-training—"

"She's a knight, not just some temple girl," Llain interjected.

"Still," Grist continued. "Wallamir said we needed to find the source, and we followed the trail to here." His hands encompassed the scene before falling in a shrug. "Only to find that we're worse off than we started."

"Yes, I understand Lavinia," Wallamir said to no one as he rejoined Llain and Grist. Wallamir's eyes drifted upward as if he was talking to some apparition there, and Llain raised an eyebrow at Grist. The man answered with a shrug.

"I shall meet you there," Wallamir continued. "Under no circumstances are you to follow him out of the city; this fly has fangs."

Wallamir waved his hand in dismissal and let his eyes refocus on the people in front of him. "Good news, everyone. Lavinia might have found someone with information. This girl's failures might not spell the end for us just yet."

Llain bristled at the implication that this was somehow Kalia's fault, but Wallamir continued before he could say anything in response.

"Grist, I shall meet you in the morning," Wallamir's gaze drifted over Llain and Kalia. "And I suppose these two might still have something useful to contribute. Take them back with you and make sure they stay put until I return."

"And why should I do that," Grist asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

"Because your job starts now," Wallamir answered with a smile. "The church wanted you to protect one of their novices, and unfortunately for you, it seems that she needs you to start immediately." He nodded toward Kalia's form with an enigmatic smile and turned to leave. The hound followed Wallamir away as they turned the corner.

"What?" Grist yelled. "Wallamir, get your ass back here!"

Wallamir continued walking, and Llain waited until he had gone far enough away that he was sure they were alone.

"Kalia's not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell's going on," Llain said. He moved to stand between Grist and his friend, hand falling to the rapier at his waist. "You seem more reasonable than the other one was, but I'm not gonna stand by while you abduct my friend.

"Magic is going on," Grist grunted. "If you ever get the choice, don't befriend a mage. More trouble than any whore I've ever met, and they usually cost more in the long run. Now help me with her, we should get off the streets." Grist made to approach Kalia, but Llain refused to move.

"He said you were hired to protect her," Llain said questioningly. "Does Karyth know about this?"

Grist blew out a sigh. "Her da? I doubt it," he finally answered. "The church is sending her on a mission. I'm the help meant to keep her safe while she's out of town."

The flat statement left Llain with even more questions, but Grist slashed his hand through the air between them.

"There'll be time for your questions later, boy," he growled. "Right now your girl is defenseless on the ground save for you and your little sword, and there's someone strong enough to knock out half the city with magic wandering around. You can ask your questions now and I'll answer what I can. Or you can come with me to somewhere relatively safe and we can discuss this over some ale. I know which I'd prefer."

He moved toward Kalia again, and this time Llain let him pass. They each grabbed one of her arms, and with a great deal of huffing and cursing, managed to drag her into a cart the alchemists had used to transport their flamespitters. Llain hoped the alchemists wouldn't need it, but Grist started moving before Llain had a chance to ask for permission.

The harness of the cart fit over Grist's body and he heaved himself forward to get the wheels moving as Llain rushed to catch up.

"What can I do?" Llain asked.

"Just keep your sword handy," Grist answered through clenched teeth. "We're only a few minutes from The Salty Dog. The owner owes me a favor. Should have a spare room we can toss her in, and then you can buy me a drink."

The Salty Dog. Llain recognized the name as a bar he'd wandered past a few times in the little free time Karyth allowed him. Llain had ventured in once when he was already a bit drunk, but hadn't even made it to a seat before the stern stares of scores of seasoned sailors had scared him back outside. But with the race happening, it would be mostly abandoned. And Grist would have his back, right?

His reverie was interrupted by a booming explosion one street over. The ground shook for a moment and he drew closer to Grist. The echoes faded and the only noise were the wheels of the cart clacking along as Grist continued moving.

"If the cart stops, I'm not sure I can get 'er going again," Grist grunted out through clenched teeth. "You'll need to clear the way a bit, otherwise we'll have to circle out pretty far."

Grist pointed with a nod of his head and Llain could see the remains of the festival strewn across the street as they entered the market district. Boxes and stalls had fallen or been thrown aside in the rush of the crowd, leaving a narrow alley barely wide enough for the cart to push through.

Llain nodded— glad he could finally help— and jogged ahead. Painted wood scraps he tossed aside, the boxes he shoved out of the way without straining himself, but as he progressed further he saw a problem. Two stalls farther ahead had fallen together in a knot of fabric and splintered boards that he saw no easy way to untangle.

"Take your time," Llain hollered back to Grist. "This one's gonna take a minute."

The clatter of wagon wheels stopped, and Llain bent to the task. The frustration he'd felt since Kalia fell was unleashed on the wood and garbage as he tossed it to a pile along the edge of the street. The silver light cast by the few bodies that still lay on the street provided an unnatural ambiance that only made him angrier.

He wasn't rich enough to do magic like Wallamir, hadn't been chosen for some higher purpose like Kalia, but at least he could move the garbage out of the way. Two years working for Karyth had built something resembling muscles, and he felt them flex as a huge barrel went flying through the air.

A tug at his pant legs upset his balance as he let go of the barrel. Llain shrieked in momentary panic and his leg flailed out instinctively to kick at the attacker. A yelp of pain from the poor stray made Llain's face blush in embarrassment, and the diminutive shadow slinked off to hide in a pile of garbage.

"Everything okay?" Grist's voice called. "Sounds like some poor girl might be getting attacked."

Llain ignored the jibe and turned back to find the animal. It only took a moment to locate the pitiful mewls coming from the shadows of the garbage pile Llain had built. He took a seat on the pile to catch his breath and pulled out a hunk of jerky he'd bought earlier. The street was clear enough for the cart, but his tired muscles didn't feel much like continuing the walk.

He tore off a piece of the salted beef and extended it toward the nook with the stray. The mewls stopped as his hand approached, and Llain smiled as a white muzzle extended out of the shadows.

"Sorry about kicking you," Llain whispered. "I'm a bit on edge."

A nip at his finger made him drop the meat and he cursed quietly. He leaned down to grab it, but two glowing silver eyes stared back at him from the darkness and Llain froze. A throaty growl rumbled forth and Llain slowly scooted back across the debris. Each awkward inch was mirrored as a white fox slowly padded out from the darkness to follow him.

Llain's hand moved to his rapier and the fox raised its hackles as it tracked the motion. A soft mist of steam rose from its fur and Llain's breath turned to fog as he struggled to breathe slowly. A coating of frost spread across the loose wood and reflected the torchlight from a street post.

He pulled his hand away from the blade and the fox calmed, a soft whimper escaping its muzzle as it sniffed at the hunk of meat. Its silver eyes stayed locked on Llain as he continued to retreat, finally standing after getting a few yards of distance. The fox picked up the jerky and retreated back to the barrel it had found, and Llain tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

As he ran to catch up to Grist a giggle finally broke through. He'd been terrified of a fox pup that barely came to his ankles, and had even let it scare him off and keep the jerky all to itself. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and wondered at the chill in the air. It was unseasonable, but there must be a storm blowing in from the Maelstrom.

Llain ran back to where Grist waited. "All clear," he said. "Had to scare off a scavenger, but we should have a clear shot rest of the way."

Grist continued to heave at the wagon and Llain pushed from behind until it built enough speed to continue moving. "I heard that shriek you made," Grist snorted while Llain rolled his eyes. "Lucky for you it wasn't some sort of monster."