At first, Lana tried not to pay attention to Galier’s conversation with Ketrim. Whatever it was they were discussing, it most certainly did not involve her and she was content to let those two ignore her. Mostly her thoughts were occupied with the suspicious glances that Galier had been casting her way while whispering with Jormand just minutes before. She did not know what it was that he suspected her of, but it was likely enough that it had to do with that shop she should not have known about. She could try to pass it off as coincidence, that she had smelled the blood from the street and panicked, but that was a flimsy excuse and she knew it. Especially with how frantically she had searched for their help. It would only be a matter of time until Galier realized that she had to have been involved if he did not already.

Lana’s only distraction aside from her own thoughts was Jormand, who had finally stood up from his bed. Standing, he looked even more sickly than lying down. He faced away from the others, probably to preserve what was left of his modesty but all it did was expose the pale skin of his back, crossed here and there by scars and a few recent cuts highlighted by dried blood. He was shockingly pale, apparently what Lana had taken as his natural skin tone was only a sun tan, no doubt to make him look more similar to the old blood nobles that everyone in the courts mimicked. She did not look at him long, she told herself it was for the sake of his dignity but that did nothing to lessen the knot of disgust forming at the bottom of her throat. Against his untanned skin, those scars were pink and tender looking and the patches of dried blood made her nose wrinkle. Lana found it hard to resurrect the image of the powerful, dangerous man she had seen him as before.

Looking for something else to focus on, Lana resigned to listen in on what Galier and Ketrim were saying. After all, if they had not wanted her to hear, they would not have let her stay in the room. She could hardly ignore them forever.

“The fact of the matter is that they will come after you if you cannot distance yourself properly.” Ketrim was saying with the voice of a lecturing mother.

Galier wore a pleasant smile, a feat Lana herself could certainly not have achieved in the same situation. She knew little of politics but Galier most certainly did, the fact that Ketrim Derran felt that he was able to lecture was either evidence that he was a master himself or that he was a fool. Probably the latter judging by his mannerisms. There was something about the way he puffed out his chest and spoke down constantly that stunk of undeserved confidence.

“I understand, as I said, I can handle it. It is no secret that the bond between our houses is weak. They’ll I’m as in the dark as the rest.” Despite what he said coming off like he had said it before several times, Galier managed to still sound respectful and deferential. Certainly the more adept of the two, Lana decided.

“Very well, if you’re confident, I will offer no more insight on the matter.” Ketrim clearly had more to say but he let the matter drop.

They moved on to talk of the plan for Jormand and Ketrim to sneak out of the city. Apparently moving the timeframe had added complications, specifically they were worried that they would be unable to remain unseen during daylight. Lana had to suppress a laugh, any fool knew it was easier to remain unnoticed during the day. At night everyone was suspicious of everyone else, that made them remember. Two lords trying to hide would stick out like a sore thumb on the broad, open streets at night. But both Galier and Ketrim seemed to think it an actual concern, as if anyone would care to remember their faces in a crowd. Even if they walked out in their nicest coats and jewels, passers by would only see the finery, not the people within. It was a testament to their self-importance that they thought anyone at all would care beyond asking for a coin or two.

“If you’re so worried about being seen, take the canals.” Lana said at a moment when both men were silent, furrowing their brows in thought over how to avoid being spotted. She tried to train her voice to calm submissiveness, she was willing to wager they did not want her opinion, but she figured that the best way to regain Galier’s trust was to help. She would not risk the soft bed, nor the food and clothing that came with working with him.

Both turned to her with surprised expressions as if they had forgotten she was there altogether. Ketrim’s lip immediately curled in disdain as he looked her over with a lecherous eye but Lana ignored him. She did not much care what he thought of her. He was about to say something when Galier cut him off, understanding dawning on his face.

“You could always hide below on a barge, and any watch would be on the roads…” He nodded with increasing vigor as he sorted out the specifics in his mind. “It's an excellent idea, Ketrim.”

The other man was having none of it, an offended expression appeared on his face but once again, Galier did not let him go on.

“Thank you, Lana, you’ve saved us a great deal of time I think.” He said with a simple nod towards her. With one hand he motioned to one of the chairs alongside the round table. It was damaged but stable. She took a seat and could not help from smiling. Realizing that made her blush but she pushed through it.

“I know a barge captain who could help you, I think.” She said, happy that Galier was willing to take her advice. “But he’ll charge you through the nose if he knows who you are.” That was true of most every barge captain she thought, but she knew of one who had always been amenable to her, and owed her a favor or two. If it helped to regain Galier’s trust, she was willing to return to her previous life a little. For the bed and food of course.

“Ketrim, I do believe our solution has been found for us.” Galier said with a grin, at least he was happy to have found that solution. Ketrim looked like he had swallowed something particularly bitter at that moment.

The lord rubbed a hand through his already messy hair, letting his light brown curls fall as they would. He showed a good deal more resemblance to his brother like that, Lana noted. The angry expression and untamed appearance helped. Those forest green eyes held nothing but contempt for her though, in place of Jormand’s indifference.

“I suppose it has,” Ketrim said coldly. “In which case, I have other preparations to see to.” At least he was not too arrogant to know a good solution when it was explained to him.

Ketrim stood up briskly and gave a respectful nod to Galier. “My lord.” He mumbled under his breath. His eyes passed over Lana with little recognition before he turned on his heel and exited the chamber, closing the door loudly behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Galier let out an exasperated sigh and let himself sag against the back of his chair. It creaked worryingly but he did not seem to notice.

“That one I won't miss.” He grumbled to himself.

Lana gave a sympathetic nod. Ketrim made Jormand’s moody grunts and general unpleasantness seem almost bearable. The family resemblance was becoming more and more apparent. She did not think their trip north would be a pleasant one.

For the second time that day, Lana resigned to wait while the lords made their plans. Jormand had finally covered himself with clothing that would not look out of place among the commoners of Maerin. The shirt and trousers fit well enough but that leather vest marked him as being a man with a little money. Besides that, he looked surprisingly, well, common. It helped that he still looked a little ill. With the color still largely missing from his face and a few scars standing out in an ugly way, he looked the part of a tavern brawler who had had a particularly bad night.

Jormand and Galier talked for a little while, Galier spoke as if he was afraid of how Jormand might react. Jormand himself spoke in a near monotone drone that would have sounded comical if not for the look on his face that matched it. It was disarming to see him like that. Lana had seen similar dispositions before in men slowly bleeding out from a mortal wound. It was acceptance of a kind, the place that people went to when plunged suddenly into the realization that the world they inhabited did not care for them, that it did not even recognize that they were in it. He stood as an unpleasant reminder, one that she would be happy to be away from.

Galier departed soon after, he had his own part to play. Lana stayed, growing more and more uncomfortable as she waited. For a time, she wandered about the manor. It was better than watching Jormand stare blankly at the walls. The servants and guards that she passed made polite bows but would not meet her eyes. Even the woman who found her and handed her a plain dress to wear for when she guided the brothers to their barge did not say a word. The building was eerily quiet. All around could be heard the footfalls of people going about their duties but not a word from any of them.

Eventually, Lana found her way to an interior courtyard. Unlike the one she had seen before at the lady Nycaeus’ hold, this one was largely unpaved. Carefully manicured grass covered the entire opening except for a fountain in the center made from elaborately carved marble. Extending from it like spokes on a wheel were pathways that led to the door Lana had entered from as well as three others, equidistant around the perimeter of the courtyard. Here it was truly silent. The only sounds to be heard were her footstops and the burbling of the fountain as she neared it. Contrasted with the plain, rough stones of the pathways, the fountain was strikingly ornate, carved so heavily that Lana felt she could not see all the intricacies even standing just next to it. In the center, a pair of beasts that she recognized as deer by their antlers reared up to hold the topmost basin of the fountain aloft. They were larger and sturdier than she had thought deer would be, with shaggy fur around their necks and rumps but the pronged horns fit the descriptions she had heard.

At one point, not days before, she would have marveled at the stonework of this fountain. It was difficult to admit how quickly she had been accustomed to noble finery. After what few things she had seen at the party at keep Nycaeus, she doubted much could impress her. Still, the carefully trimmed grass, too green for the time of year, and the fountain itself made her feel a little uncomfortable. These were the trappings of a different kind of person, one that she had spent her entire life observing but never more. She knew she was not one of them, but sitting in the peaceful courtyard, listening to the peaceful sound of the fountain, she almost wished that she could be.

Lana could not say whether it had been only minutes or hours when Ketrim came to fetch her, his brother in tow. Both men were dressed down to the lowest degree they had ever seen, Lana was willing to wager, in nearly identical outfits of bland wool and linen. Ketrim gave her terse instructions to put on the plain dress she had been given and to meet the two of them in the grand hall in quick order. She did not complain but she felt anger rising in her chest that she kept banked as best she could. She would not have to deal with the man long, best to get it over with.

Even though it bothered her to be commanded to heel like a dog on the hunt, Lana quickly obeyed. She found an empty room to change in and was back in the grand hall before Ketrim himself. Jormand was there though, sitting on a bench and staring at the floor. She opted to avoid conversation for the time being. She left her nice dress on a small table near the entry, she would be able to reclaim it later. After all, Galier would be the power in Derran manor soon and recent suspicion aside, he seemed intent on keeping her services available.

Lana paced up and down one wall of the grand hall while she waited. Ketrim was taking longer than she would have liked and she had no idea where he had gone off to. She supposed that she could ask Jormand but one look towards the man on his bench sent shivers down her back. She elected to wait, for a time at least.

The anxious mood of the manor started to get to her as she waited. Nothing had changed of course, the scurrying servants in green livery were much the same, but the reality of her situation began to sink in. Outside of those manor doors, the streets that she knew so well would hold dangers she had never experienced before. When she had offered her help before, she had not stopped to think that perhaps those watching for the two brothers would be skilled beyond the usual cutpurses and pickpockets of Maerin. She had been all too willing to volunteer for this task, not even taking a single moment to weigh the consequences. The posh noble lifestyle must have gotten to her head. She clenched her hands into fists by her sides. She would not risk her life for these two men who she barely knew. But she had given her word to them, and to Galier. She would just have to do her part and do it well. The sooner the brothers were outside of the city, the better.

Ketrim finally returned to the grand hall after only a short wait. He carried a pack on his back and another in his hand, both full near to bursting. The bags themselves were plain, heavy canvas but Lana was willing to bet that they were filled to the gills with expensively dyed fabrics and ornaments of precious metals and stones. She should have realized that lords would be unwilling to leave without their valuables. She shook her head at her own flawed thinking. It was just one more variable to deal with. And she would deal with it. She meant to be back in her warm, soft bed in the Captain’s Cat come sundown.

Lana did not question the packs at all, did not speak a word until they were outside the manor building in the exterior courtyard. Ketrim led the way until Lana ran to catch him. He was headed straight for the main gates as if to stroll out into the streets like on any other day. He walked with a distinct strut and with his nose held in the air. Jormand was not so bad but he walked with the confidence of a man expecting crowds to break for him too.

“Wait!” She exclaimed, grabbing Ketrim’s shoulder as he strode towards the gates. He turned with a disdainful frown already on his face. “We can’t go that way.” She said, trying her best to temper her annoyance.

For a moment Ketrim looked like he would argue but he did give in, that was good. At least he could see reason. The trouble was, the only other exits from the manor complex known to the haughty lord led to tunnels that in turn led east, towards the main gates of the city. Unfortunately, their goal lay to the north. The canals did not reach too far from the harbor for one reason or another, certainly not as far as the main gate. That meant they would have to use the manor’s prominent gate or else risk walking through a significant portion of the city to find their destination.

They paused there in the courtyard, debating their options, few as they were. Ketrim still did not quite see the issue with using the main gate and Jormand was of little help. He mumbled something about scaling the wall but neither Lana or Ketrim were listening. Eventually, Lana had to admit that there was no other option than the main gate. Perhaps there was some other way, but they could not afford to waste the time it would take to find it.

So, as the gates began to open, Lana steeled herself to embark. There would be watchers with an eye on the gate of course. She told the two lords to stoop a little and try to walk with a less sure stride. She hoped it would be enough to fool anyone looking for two noblemen. They exited the gate looking like a trio of common workers. Except for their clearly northern complexions, both Jormand and Ketrim looked nearly like Maerinen citizens. It would be enough to fool any pedestrians they passed, Lana thought, she only hoped that anyone looking for them had a less discerning eye.

***

After leaving the main street that led to Derran Manor, Jormand began to feel a little better about the plan. He followed Lana and his brother like an obedient dog which suited him for the time, he was not in the mood to lead the group in any case. The streets behind them all seemed peaceful when Jormand turned to look, if anyone followed them, it was from far behind. Not one of them spoke, which suited Jormand fine. His mind was teeming with thoughts enough for ten men.

He was tired from days without enough sleep, and everything seemed foggy, a feeling he knew well enough but that was not what bothered him. In his mind, he attempted to go over the events from the night before. He knew what happened, cerebrally, but he had a hard time putting images to it. Galier had told him, gently but in detail, about the shop where they had found his father’s body, but try as he might, Jormand drew a blank each time. He remembered the party, sneaking away to have a drink with his guards, even racing down the streets after Lana, but nothing after. He caught a glimpse from time to time however. He remembered a thin, iron sword covered in blood that sent chills through him. He remembered a map on a table and beams against an earth ceiling. Strangely vivid things of no consequence, he thought. But one thing did feel important, it sat in a pouch tied to his belt that jingled faintly from time to time. Anyone who saw it would think it a near empty coin purse, nothing worth stealing, but it held the two things most precious to Jormand now. Two rings, nearly identical, cast in silver in the form of branching antlers. One was his own, the other had belonged to his father. He had taken it before leaving that room of carnage. He did not remember doing so, but Galier told him that he had. That ring held a prominent place in his thoughts now.

Years ago, when he had been too young to go with the soldiers on winter raids, Jormand remembered sitting by the hearth and listening to the stories told by the men and women too old to fight or to work. Old soldiers and cooks, all the sorts of folk who could be found to care for a young boy wintering in Derranhall. At the time, their tales had frightened him so much that he would hide under his blankets most nights, sweating in the trapped heat of his breath until morning. Many he had forgotten with time, they were the fancies of a child after all, but some had been unearthed in his memories now and they had his blood running cold.

The stories he remembered told of the nyble, the spirits of the dead still bound to the world by their rage some said, others said it was by a need for revenge. It did not matter why, that was not what had scared Jormand back then and it was not what captured his mind now.

One tale in particular came back to Jormand as he obediently followed down narrow streets, nearly unaware of the buildings he passed by. He remembered the day he first captained his own ship. He had been so proud, standing at the bow, leaning out over the sea, daring to set out onto the choppy waves that preceded stormwinds. He had been warned against it, his first mate, Aelfindr, a grizzled veteran who had been in service to his house before Jormand was even born, had desperately tried to convince him to delay. He had been too eager to listen. His ship had been wrecked on a rocky outcropping only a few short hours later. He still remembered the bodies of his crew dotting the beach where the wreckage washed ashore. That night, holed up under a ledge of dark, wet stone with no fire to keep him or his few surviving men warm, that was when he had heard the final tale. Even as he succumbed to the cold sea winds, Aelfindr spun it out in a breathy rasp that grated on the ears but compelled the battered remains of the crew to listen.

“Beware,” He had said with true fear in his eyes, “For tonight the spirits of your dead comrades will ride the wind.” He gestured to the pouch which Jormand had stuffed full of the soulstone rings of his dead crew, he would bring them back to their families, let the poor men have a proper wake. “They are still bound here, as surely as if by iron chains. Do not sleep tonight, young lord, none of you either.” The old man pointed a trembling finger at the few sailors gathered round until each one nodded in turn. “But do not look either, do not acknowledge them. Blind yourselves if you must, for if you look upon them, you will be dead as surely as they are.” After that, he had said nothing, refused to talk except to dictate that each man wear a blindfold as they huddled together for the remainder of the night. The storm had raged on until morning, soaking Jormand and his crew with sheets of freezing rain over and over again. And the wind had blown in rage against the rocks, shrieking as it found small passages and dead ends in the stone maze. When the morning came, heralded by a weak winter sun, Aelfindr was dead, cold as ice where he lay. Jormand had put no stock in his words at the time, now he was not so sure.

He was pulled up from the depths of his thoughts when in front of him, Ketrim suddenly halted. Preoccupied as he was, Jormand ran directly into his brother’s back, prompting an angry scowl. He ignored it, Ketrim was often unpleasant, especially in stressful situations, Jormand could forgive him for that.

He took the moment to look around, he had not been paying much attention to their surroundings during the journey here and he was surprised to find that they had apparently already arrived. He could smell the seaside air, they were certainly near the harbor, and though he could not see down the alley past Ketrim, he heard Lana talking in hushed tones to someone. They had found their barge.

The alleyway they stood in was well removed from the street, behind them it turned sharply so no one passing by would be able to look in and see them. He could have passed it by many times without knowing that it led anywhere in particular. It looked much like any other alley near the harbor, worn stone that could use washing and the remains of crates and pallets in the corners where wall met cobblestones. And there was the everpresent sound of water lapping against the shore in the distance, making everything seem slightly quieter by comparison.

Jormand was struck by how familiar it all felt, and how comforting. He had spent much of his time near the harbor, in the Captain’s Cat or at other, less reputable establishments. At that moment, he thought he might miss it. A little. The sound of gulls screeching and the smell of the warm sea had, in some small way, reminded him of home. But it was not quite the same, there was something different in the way it all was that he would be unable to find back at Derranhall. Strange to think that what had helped stave off homesickness before would be what he missed now.

Jormand did not have much longer to dwell on it. Lana had finished her negotiations and now the captain, a short, balding man who twisted a floppy cap in his hands like he was wringing a goose’s neck, ushered them onto the barge, nearly pushing Jormand onto Ketrim and Lana as they descended into the hold. The vessel was relatively thin and tall, built for the canals and poorly maintained. He did not get a good look at the exterior but from within the hold, he could see poorly repaired holes and piles of boards ready to patch new ones. It was a wonder that the barge could float at all. But it was what they had and it would have to do.

Jormand, Lana, and Ketrim huddled on the floor against one side of the hold. Outside, they could hear the barge setting off. It rocked surprisingly little but enough that Jormand could tell that they were moving, moving fast for a canal barge, Lana had communicated well the importance of speed. Even so, the trip was painfully long. The canals of the harbor district were like a labyrinth of narrow, sunken streets. Barge captains knew them well, but even still, the journey was not a short one. Over the years, new canals had been added, old ones had been widened, some had even been filled and paved. Now it was a miracle anyone could get anywhere using the network.

The three of them sat in silence for the entire journey. Ketrim frowned the entire time and drummed his fingers against the wooden side. The stress was already getting to him and the worst part of their plan was yet to come. Lana looked just as unhappy with the situation. She refused to look at either Jormand or Ketrim and spent the entire ride with her knees drawn to her chest facing at an angle away from them. She had volunteered to guide them, Jormand thought. Why she should be so unhappy with the situation confused him. Finally the nervous looking captain came down to jostle them off of his barge. Jormand was relieved even though the captain’s painful jabs to his ribs when he moved too slowly aggravated a few unhealed cuts.

When the time did come to disembark, all three of them were eager to do so. They were put off behind a tall building within view of the city wall. There was no dock or even a post to tie the barge to but the gangplank reached the edge of the canal, if just barely. They would have to move quickly, a barge putting off passengers at the side of the canal would be odd enough to draw attention.

Lana stayed for a moment after Jormand and Ketrim were off the deck, speaking to the captain in a low voice that still carried over the empty canal. She did not sound happy and the captain was twisting his cap harder now, his face set in a hard frown. Eventually the man turned on his heel and stormed off towards the back of his barge where he conferred with another man who worked the steering pole. Lana disembarked then with a look of satisfaction on her face.

They left the barge behind quickly, best not to give the captain a chance to reconsider giving a ride for free. Jormand did not recognize the streets they took, none were main thoroughfares and they were far enough from the ocean that everything began to look unfamiliar. Jormand rarely frequented this area of the city. It was mostly shops and storehouses as far as he could tell, though not ones that were well used. Sailors and ship captains would only need to come this far inland if traffic was particularly heavy by the dockside. These shops likely did not get many customers.

The plan was to meet up with a pair of soldiers who would accompany them on their journey northward nearby. They would be waiting with a wagon to carry what possessions they were able to take with them in their packs. Their cover story would make the wagon and horse needed to pull it not seem too suspicious. Jormand and Ketrim were impersonating journeyman smiths who had just finished their apprenticeships. They were on their way back north where the best iron was forged, according to rumor. The pair of hired guards would mark them out as particularly successful tradesmen, but they would not be too strange a sight. So long as they could make it through the gates, all should go smoothly.

Lana barely paused at intersections as they passed, she moved like a hound on the hunt, following tracks too faint for Jormand to see. It did not take long for her to lead them from the canal to their meeting place though she practically jumped when they turned the corner and the two soldiers were waiting for them. Jormand was not surprised to see that one of the two was Elyas. He had been in service to the house for as long as Jormand could remember and had proved his skill many times. The other soldier was a stranger to him, a tall woman with broad shoulders and narrow eyes that searched their party of three carefully as they came around the corner. Her light complexion and straight, pale hair were enough to show that she did not hail from Derranhall, likely a Maerin native or else from the near north, perhaps Bridgeport or Tauly. Both soldiers carried with them plain wooden round shields, no mark or crest on them, as well as long bronze-tipped spears. Elyas also carried a short, broad sword at his hip as well and the woman had a cased bow slung over her shoulder. Neither wore much in the way of armor but both wore bronze helms in the style of naval soldiers with a brim over the eyes and a rounded top. They were light, if not overly protective.

Jormand was happy to see that Elyas would be making the journey with them. Not only was the man more experienced than most in battle, he was also good company and Jormand knew well the value of that on a long trip. Even travelling along the Maerin road north and cutting across the Ultrasian sea, it would easily take a week or more to make the trek. Tempers would flare and conflict would be unavoidable. Better to have a man who Jormand got along with well along for it.

Jormand was grateful for the chance to unload his pack onto the wagon. It was already nearly full with the needed things for travelling as well as the trappings a smith might carry along. Hammers, tongs, even a small anvil were all loaded in the covered wagon, some hanging off the back. The wagon itself was constructed of sturdy wood and even though it was not large, the canvas roof meant that it could be used to shelter in case of an early snowfall or particularly bad rain, though it would be cramped.

They did not waste much time on pleasantries after Ketrim and Jormand had their packs stowed in the wagon. Elyas took the reins of the horse that pulled the wagon along at a brisk pace. It was a sturdy looking beast, heavily muscled and with a slightly shaggy coat. Everything about their wagon and dress was meant to be as unassuming as possible, even the horse.

Elyas led their little band with Ketrim at his side. Jormand followed a little behind and the other guard took up the rear. Lana trailed along as well until they made it to the gate at which point she turned back down the street without a word and left.

They passed through the gate without incident. One of the soldiers there gave them a puzzled look --travelling north at the beginning of autumn might be considered risky by southerners-- but made no move to stop them.

And so their journey northward began. Elyas set a pace they could easily maintain throughout the day, easy enough to not tire them unduly but fast enough that they would be far from the city walls by the time the sun set.

They were not far from the gates when the commotion began, Jormand could still make out the shapes of the guards behind them when he first heard the warning bells. It took longer for Ketrim and Elyas to notice, but soon they too had turned about and Elyas was squinting as he looked back, one hand shading his eyes. Jormand too peered back. He could see the gates slowly closing and he heard faint shouts. The guards he could see were milling about and he thought he saw one running down the road towards them. Then others began to follow.

Jormand was turning back around to warn the rest of the party when Elyas made the same realization.

“Run!” He shouted as he swung onto the horse that pulled the wagon. For a moment, the others stood still, unsure of what was happening.

“RUN!” Elyas screamed again, louder this time. He kicked the horse into a canter at which point Ketrim and the other guard began to run headlong after the wagon. Jormand paused in the road for a moment, turning again to see what the commotion was about. He could not make out exactly how many guards came after them, but they were closing fast. So he ran. He ran as fast as he could after the wagon. Hopefully the armored guards could tire first but now was not the time to be taking chances.