Cru’s gasping and choking on the rough ground nearby as he coughs up bright, bubbling blood, the arrow still in his jugular notch quivering as he struggles to catch breath that’s got nowhere to go. He’s drowning in blood and we can’t do anything for him, Nill’s knelt by him trying her best but what medical skills she has can’t fix a wound like that, he’s good as dead already but it’ll take him a little while to go yet. Roe’s squeezing his hand tight on his other side, kneeling close and whispering to his friend as he tries to ease him out, knowing there’s nothing he can do and it’s killing him, determined that Cru feels some love and kindness before he dies. I hate this as much as the rest of them – there’s times I really do lament the fact we don’t have a cleric in this crew.

The rocks have finally settled, a great shattered mess of broken rock filling the gully now and sloping up to the cliffs on either side, at least from what I can see through the almighty cloud of dust that still hangs in the air. Tarrow’s stood down there on the outermost verge of safety with a few of the others, dancing on his toes a little, clearly itching for the chance to get stuck in now, but he won’t move without my say-so. We still can’t be sure it’s safe to go yet, I want them to wait. He looks up at me now, and I curb the urge to yell him down seeing it. I’m not quite in my right mind about this yet. Not after the casualties, light as they are.

“What do you think?” I ask after a few moments, looking sidelong at Garnon. They’re frowning down at the mess, barely moved from the spot they ‘ported to, arms folded across their chest, staff stuck in the ground to their side. Thoughtful, wary. I wonder if they’re a little sorry about the loss of life too – I can never tell.

“Probably. It seems to be safe. I doubt there’ll be any more rockfalls to worry about, not now. I was careful.”

I laugh, but it’s bitter. “This is careful? That’s bloody charming.” I sigh, then look back down at Tarrow and give him a nod. “All right then, better let them get on with it.”

Tarrow grins altogether too widely for my liking right now, but I let him off. He’s been stewing for days about that anticlimax at the bridge, it’s been a bitch trying to keep him from flying right off the handle, and now he’s got the opportunity to actually do something I’m reluctant to curb his enthusiasm. He’s still so ridiculously young.

Scuttling down the ridge with his friends, he reaches what was once the track at the bottom of the gully, skirting sideways so he doesn’t have to climb up again once he hits level ground, then jumps down into what’s essentially to new bottom of this particularly barren valley. Then, as we watch, the ground a little ahead of them gives off a great gasp of dust and they all drop into crouches or throw themselves behind the nearest boulder for cover, and for a moment I think this is some trick in response to our attack. Then a long trench collapses in on itself throughout most of the length of the fresh debris, and we hold our collective breath to see if anything else happens.

After several moments, it seems safe enough to breathe out again, and I take a few steps forward, frowning down at that long puff of dust slowly fading in the air. “What the bright blue fuck was that?”

“I really couldn’t say.” Garnon shrugs as they step to my side, cocking a brow as they stare. “It was very peculiar.”

This time I turn to look at them straight on. “No shit, professor.” As they scowl I wave my hand, a little dismissive, and turn back to the others behind me. Cru seems to have gone in the short while I was distracted. Roe’s standing up slowly, head down, shoulders slumped, while Nill’s quietly sobbing as she slowly doubles over, pressing her face into his chest as she shakes. Damn it.

Turning back, I bite down the urge to let out a howl that I know will be half grief and half frustration, and start to clamber down the slope, Garnon grabbing their staff before scuttling after me. “You’re sure it hasn’t been destroyed?”

“Gods know, but probably not. It’s not like I even know what it is, but we were reassured it would be tough, and would be able to survive this. I’ll admit the results were a little more than I intended –”

I stop and glare back at them, stopping them so dead in their tracks they stumble on the loose rock underfoot, have to fight to keep from falling. They right themselves and scowl at me again, but there’s a sheepishness in their expression now that almost allows me a certain commiserative smile. I wave my hand again, more dismissive still, and continue my descent.

When I reach the rough, uneven footing of the new valley floor our remaining ogre, Grol, is climbing the new makeshift slope after me, having very little difficulty at all with this particular terrain. He sees me watching and tips a very slow nod, rumbling: “Shay.” in those impossibly deep, lower-than-bass tones of his. I nod back. He did well, all things considered. I feel as torn up about his brother and sister as I do about the rest.

Up ahead, Tarrow and his skirmishers are making quick progress, approaching that weird new ditch that just inexplicably created itself. Then one of them suddenly falls back … no, he’s thrown back, like something hit him high in the chest and flung him several feet backwards. He thumps down and doesn’t move again. A moment later another flips clean over in the air, as if he kicked his feet up and performed a near perfect acrobatic manoeuvre, only to mess up on the landing, which he makes face-first. I’m looking for it this time, though, and just before he hits I see a long black shaft stuck through his eye and coming right back out of the back of his head. I’ve seen those arrows before.

“Back off!” I shout, waving them down as I scramble forward. “Pull back and take cover!”

Two more are knocked down equally hard as they start to react, and they don’t get back up either, but at least Tarrow’s fast enough to duck behind the nearest boulder before another arrow pings off the side of it and clatters away. Two more flicker past the rest as they take cover, but no more hit. After a moment the valley falls silent again. I stay where I am, only now starting to realise that I was in the wide open the whole time but I didn’t catch an arrow myself. I stand up to my full height and tense up as I take a deep breath, hoping that, if the arrow does come, I’ll be fast enough to dodge it. I doubt it.

Nothing happens. Slowly I let that breath out again and take a few steps to my left, making a big beckoning gesture to the skirmishers as I usher them back. “Get back here, but stay down!”

Tarrow’s the last to come, clearly reluctant to retreat, but one pause by the man that took the arrow through the eye’s enough to put some speed in him again. He still gives me a frustrated scowl as they join us, mind.

“They’re still alive.” he growls, gripping his sword tight as he finally straightens up, glaring back the way he just came from. “Least some of ‘em are.”

“Those was just warning shots.” I stare off into the distance again, looking out for any further signs but seeing nothing. I doubted I would, really. Now that I think about it, that weird ditch is starting to make a little sense in my mind. Magic, then. Clever bastards. “They’re gone already. That was just to make sure we weren’t stupid enough to follow.”

“D’you reckon it’s safe to go now, then?” Tarrow asks after a moment. “We still gotta find that box.”

Thinking about it a little more, I come to a further conclusion, finally shake my head. “No, it’s not there. They made it out with it. That mage of theirs … whoever they are they’re really something.”

“Mage? They got themselves some fancy spellcaster too?” Tarrow’s frown grows even deeper, to the kind of degree only someone with orc-blood can. “Fuck. First the golem, now a mage too. This is turning into a right balls-up.”

“No, it’s just more of a challenge than we thought it would be.” I take a deep breath, look back at the others, at Grol, who’s watching me intently, like he always does, then Garnon. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need a change of tactics.”

Sighing, Garnon gives a slow nod, his shoulders sagging a little. “You want a ride again, I take it?”

“In a minute.” I break away from them, heading back to the ridge. Roe’s scrambled down, taking care as he navigates the perilous footing as he moves to join me. His face is tight, frown deep, and his jaw’s clenched hard. I can’t see his eyes thanks to the smoked glasses he wears against the punishing sunlight, but it’s clear enough he’s not in a good way right now. Cru was one of his best friends. He wants blood now, I think.

“So they got away, then?”

“Looks like it.” I glance up to the ridge, see the rest cleaning up after the mess, Nill finally getting up but a little unsteady on her feet. She wasn’t any closer to Cru than I was, but being one of our resident bone-setters it always hits her hard when she can’t save someone. “How is she?”

Roe looks back, then gets what I’m on about. He sighs. “She’s upset. That was an ugly death, Shay. I understand these people are just doing their jobs, same as us, but … they’re making it really easy to kill them if we get the chance.”

I grab his shoulder, give it a tight squeeze, leave it there. “I know. I’m sorry about Cru. He was a good man. But like you said, we have a job to do. Can you buck up?”

He looks up at me, his face still tight, and there seems to be some moisture behind those dark lenses. He keeps frowning, jaw working now, and I wonder if I might have pushed a little too hard there. Gods, I hope not. Roe’s the best I have, I need him right now. Then he lets out another sigh and rubs the back of his neck, and his face softens a little. “Yeah, reckon I can. Enough for the job, at least. You want us to follow them again?”

“Discretely. After this I doubt they’ll be as willing to make allowances for us as they were before. If we push, they’ll turn right round and bite, and that could get messy. So just track them for now. Garnon’ll check in with you for me while I’m gone, and we’ll be back again soon enough. I just need to sort this out properly.”

“Off to see your mum again?” He allows himself a little cocked grin now, and I smile back seeing it. He’s easing up a little, it’s good to see. I let go of his shoulder, set my hands on my hips.

“I’ll give her your love like always, don’t worry.” I step away, then turn back to him. “Just remember, discrete. Don’t give them an excuse.”

“I hear you.” He tips a little salute, lets me head back to the others.

Garnon watches me as I approach, face unreadable again. “All set?”

“Hang on.” I turn to Tarrow, who’s looking down the valley, clearly still tense. He spins fast when I say his name, surprised, then scowls again that I saw it. “Roe’s in charge, remember?”

“Yeah, I know.” He’s back to pouting now. “I’m just … I wanna get at these guys, y’know?”

“Of course you do. You’ll get your chance. Just listen to Roe, okay? He knows what he’s doing better than either of us ever will, so if he says to do something, it’s for a good reason. If you behave yourself out here, with a bit of luck next time we can get them right where we want them. Okay?”

He blinks, looking at me with an expression that’s half surprise, half suspicion, but it doesn’t take long to soften. He nods slowly, calm now. “Sure. You’re the boss.”

Cocking my brow, I look him over for a moment more, then give his shoulder a reassuring thump. I look at the others for another moment, trying not to linger on our dead as the bodies are being laid out, then let go another sigh. I turn back to Garnon, reaching out my hand as I take another deep breath. “Ready.”

As they take my hand they cast the spell, and it feels like the ground is falling out from under me at the same time that my whole body just … goes all kinds of weird. It’s like my stomach is being torn out, but without the pain, just a sudden, sucking absence in my centre, and for a moment I seem to follow, wanting to gasp but suddenly there’s no air to suck in. I almost see the portal open around us but not really, because it’s more like the portal is opening through us and my mind really can’t handle that. I hate this feeling, it’s like I’m being unmade and can’t do anything about it. I’m never going to be able to get used to this.

Then we land on solid ground without having jumped first, and that’s a horrifically disconcerting feeling all on its own that makes my skin crawl. I double over now, suddenly painfully nauseous, and really have to fight the urge to empty my stomach right here. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last too long, and within a minute my discomfort’s withdrawn enough that I can straighten up, and then I realise I’m still holding Garnon’s hand. They’re frowning down at it too, and we release our grips in the same moment, the wizard clearing their throat self-consciously while I take a moment to straighten my gear.

They must have struck camp first thing in the morning after we left, because we’re up on a ridge looking down on a caravan of wagons and horses and an assortment of hiking figures of various sizes. We’ve already been spotted, one of the outriders already pulled off the track below and looking up at us, and after a moment they recognise us and wave. It’s Terue. I wave back and start my cautious scramble down, not bothering to wait for Garnon to follow.

“You’re back.” the sharp-eyed half-elf scout has a wicked looking cocked grin as he watches me jump down from the final boulder and join him at the bottom of the tight, twisting, shadow-thick passage between two towering peaks. “How’d it go?”

“Shit. Again. Those people are getting on my nerves.” I look up the convoy. “Where’s my mother?”

Terue cocks his head front-wise. “Head of the train as always. Back for reinforcements?”

I look at him for a moment. Terue’s one of our sharpest, and despite the frustratingly deceptive youthfulness of his elven features I know he’s been ranging these wilds far longer than I’ve been alive. He’s seen plenty, and done more. “We’ll see. Stay alert, alright?”

“Always.” He looks over at Garnon, who’s clattering and stumbling their way down the slope with far less grace than I managed. Their face is as foul as I’d expect.

Giving Terue a curt nod, I give his horse a gentle pat on the neck and they give a little grunt in response. Then I set off up the convoy, moving at a brisk pace so I’m able to get ahead quickly, but I won’t run, even if this is an urgent endeavour. My mother taught me a long time ago never to give myself away to anyone, no matter the circumstances. I try to follow that example as much as I can, even if it can be frustratingly tricky at times.

Most of the riders and drivers acknowledge me as I go by, and I’m largely regarded with respect and some affection. I nod and smile and greet everyone who elicits a response, slowing to share words with a few on the way, but I’m always mindful of the business at hand so I make sure not to let them delay me. Even so, it takes me a little while to get to the front.

There are three riders at the head of the convoy, all mounted on big, rugged horses that are built for loads rather than war. We keep our pursuit horses further back, only parcelling them out when it’s necessary to chase someone down or attack something. I take a few moments to check my gear over one last time, make sure everything’s in the right place, then move up to join the rider in front.

Min the Reckless is not your typical orc, I doubt there’s anyone in the world who would discount that simple truth when they set eyes on her. Certainly, she’s tall and muscular and very imposing, even more so on the back of a huge black shire-horse called Trampler that I know she’s happily ridden into battle she’s had since I’ve known her. She has the rugged, intimidating features typical of her race, minimally softened by her gender and still scary enough when she wants them to be, and she wears ever one of her numerous scars with pride like an orc should. But there’s an unusual swagger to her, even in the saddle, that’s always inspired me to rise above what the other races think of our kind. Min knows her own worth as well as she knows mine, and never lets anyone forget it.

“That was fast, Shay.” Her low, rumbling voice has no threat in it. Not yet. “Tells me enough all on its own.”

I almost stop walking, blanching a little at the implied suggestion, however subtle, that I’ve messed up, even if it does feel somewhat warranted. I fight back the retort already rising in me, instead counting to ten and setting my jaw. I don’t look up at her, just stare down the track ahead as I keep walking, matching Trampler’s pace. “They’re a slippery bunch. And they have a serious mage on their side. The plan was sound, but it didn’t account for that kind of magic.”

Min chuckles at that, and it’s an unusually bubbly, tuneful sound for an orc. “So, first the golem, and now they have a powerful spellcaster among them too. What else, might I ask? Did you see any dragons shadowing them?”

“No,” I growl back, trying not to rise to the bait and not quite succeeding. “Although now you mention it their archer has some frightening skill and range too.”

“So you’ve returned to your mother a second time, empty-handed again, filled only with excuses.” The second voice grates on me, gentle but mocking all the same. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice since we made his acquaintance at the beginning of this increasingly ill-fated venture.

Finally turning my head, I look up at the rider on my mother’s right flank, directly behind me now. Ashsong, our illustrious employer, mister high-and-mighty himself. I’ve not known many full-blooded elves in my time, but he is, without a doubt, the most arrogant and self-satisfied bastard I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. And worse, there’s always been something just … a little bit off about him too, something that makes me so uncomfortable to be involved in this current business partnership. Those eyes are only part of it, impossibly green, like emeralds but with even less warmth to them. I can’t quite help shuddering again to find myself under their insufferably superior gaze.

“I don’t make excuses to my own mother, Master Ashsong.” I think I do a pretty good job of feigning civility in my response this time. “I simply state the facts as they are.”

Ashsong’s lips purse at this, like he’s sucking on a particularly sour lemon, his eyes narrowing too. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mother smiling just the tiniest bit, though.

“Perhaps, but even so, this is of no benefit at all. You merely repeat your previous mistake and expect us to ignore the fact.”

This time I fix him with a cold stare, I can’t help it. She also always taught me never to show weakness, even to those above me. Especially to those above me. Not that I personally really consider him to be.

“Are you challenging me, Master Ashsong? Because I’d be happy to answer you with my blade if you’re man enough to step into a duelling circle.”

Ashsong’s eyes narrow even further, and I’m sure he intends for his glare to be so piercing I’m cowed into silence, but it doesn’t work, not on the daughter of Min the Reckless. My mother hisses her disapproval, but I can still detect the subtlest twitch at the corner of her mouth as she tries not to smile again. Then a chuckle sounds, and I feel another chill race up my spine, this one more acute than anything Ashsong ever gives me. I look to the third rider, I can’t help it.

That chuckle … it’s just off, but not even in a subtle way like our current employer. It’s a sound worse than claws on a chalkboard, something that brings me out in a cold sweat with no effort at all. Mounted on a draft-horse pale as bone, Ashsong’s companion is one of the strangest individuals I’ve ever met. We don’t even know his name, he’s simply been introduced to us as Ashsong’s associate, sometimes referred to as his “silent partner”, although that’s a joke that fails spectacularly at humour. I’d be a lot happier if he was silent. Then it would be easier to pretend he wasn’t there.

Mostly, I’ve simply come to call him the Creep. He seems to be human, tall and handsome in a slightly androgynous way, so he could almost be mistaken for an elf at times until you see his perfectly rounded ears. At least when you can see them amidst all that artfully coiffed, bouncy black hair that’s always allowed to tumble far down his back and over his shoulders in a fashion I suspect he considers seductively rakish. His dress is rich and fancy but the style has something strange about it, as if fashioned by someone who’d been told about how clothes should look but never really properly seen what they were trying to emulate.

The worst thing about him, though, is his eyes. Incredibly pale, the irises a kind of icy off-white that I truly hate to look at, but nonetheless hold my gaze every time I look at him. Unlike Ashsong’s stare, the Creep’s is one that really is so piercing there’s no victory against it. It doesn’t help that he has a smile that never quite touches his eyes, even when he seems to be highly amused. Like now.

“I for one would find that quite intriguing.” he says now, his voice a hoarse, grating whisper that nonetheless carries impressively. “Would you like to borrow my sword?” He lays one of his hands, clad in a black glove of rich kid leather, on the hilt of the intimidating longsword that hangs on his hip. To be honest, everything he wears is black. Maybe he likes it to match his hair.

“No thank you. I have neither the time nor the interest in indulging a spoiled brat who feels unduly churlish over her clear failure when given a simple task to perform.” Ashsong keeps his glare fixed on me, but I’m still immune to it. Unlike his companion’s.

“This has been far from a simple task, Master Ashsong. The individuals hired to transport it have proven at every turn to be far more impressive that we were informed they would be, and I’ve lost a lot of people going up against them. Twice now, in fact.”

“Oh gods, how many this time?” Min sighs, and for the first time I seem to have pierced her bravado, eliciting well hidden concern instead.

“Enough. And two of the ogres you lent me, as well. That bloody golem’s handiwork.” I take a deep breath. “Grol’s family. Dead.”

“Shit.”

Ashsong just scoffs, rolling his eyes. I’ve never wanted to skewer him with my longsword more. “You are bandits, are you not? This business costs lives. Preferably on the other side, but you can hardly start crying when you lose some of your own in the process.”

“That’s not what I’m saying –”

“Enough.” Reining up her horse, my mother essentially brings the entire caravan to a halt – Ashsong pulls his own mount short in surprise and the Creep responds in kind, then the wagon behind us is halted and the ripple passes on down the line. She sits there for a moment, face tight now, working on controlling her own frustration, but I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or our employer. Then she swings down from the saddle, easy and casual as she drops to the ground, and starts to lead Trampler to the side of the track. “Gentlemen, please feel free to continue with your journey.”

“Mistress Min …” Ashsong’s frowning deeply now, flitting a quick look to his associate which is met with nothing but quiet amusement which still fails to ring quite true.

“I mean to speak with my daughter, sir. Kindly attend to your own business.” The look she gives him is enough to curdle blood like bad milk, I’ve seen it enough times to know that it makes grown men bigger than her shit themselves. I try not to smile seeing Ashsong subtly squirm when it’s turned to him.

“Master Ashsong, if you please.” The Creep spurs his horse into motion and carries on down the track. After a few fraught moments Ashsong scowls and does the same, casting a particularly baleful glare at me as he trots past to catch up. The caravan starts to follow, piece by piece, directly after.

As the wagons, riders and marchers begin to move, I join my mother at the roadside, in the deepest shadow of the mountain directly over us now. Rummaging in her saddlebags for a moment, Min finds an apple and holds it out for Trampler, who starts munching gleefully without any need for invitation. She gently brushes his neck, silent for the moment, and I begin stroking the huge stallion myself, waiting for her to speak.

“Who else did you lose?” Her voice is low, gentle as her touch on the horse now. Her face is still unreadable, but there’s a softness in her eyes now that very few other people have ever been permitted to see.

“Cru.” I clench my jaw a little at her sharp intake of breath. I don’t have to give her my condolences, she knows I’m as torn up as she is now. There was a time she fought alongside him herself, and she trusted him to watch her daughter’s back as much as Roe. “A few others. Tarrow lost a few, in particular. That bloody archer …”

“And Grol … how is he?”

“Stony, like always. You know ogres, they never give anything away. But he’s hurting.”

“I’m sorry, Shay. About all of it. I know it’s not your fault, you did the best you could, you always do.”

“For what it’s worth.” I set my jaw, looking over at the caravan as they pass us by. Everyone turns to watch us as they roll on, most are subtle about it but I can feel their eyes all the same. Min’s word rules everything that happens in their little corner of the world, and for better or worse that includes my own part in her business. Being both her daughter and one of her top lieutenants dumps a whole lot of responsibility on my own shoulders sure enough. “Mother … I don’t think this is a good idea. This job. It doesn’t feel right.”

“We’ve been hired to steal something, Shay. It’s what we do. Those mercenaries were hired to protect what we’re going to steal. It’s too bad for them. You can’t get mixed up over that.”

“It’s not that. I’ll kill them all for killing my people, and even if they hadn’t, I’ll still kill them if they try to stop me. You know I’ve never had a problem cutting throats. If we have to take some lives, we will.”

“What’s got you all hot and bothered, then?”

“That bastard Ashsong. He’s all wrong. This is all wrong. That creepy bastard he’s riding with is really wrong.”

She looks up at me again, gently patting Trampler and getting an appreciative grunt in return. “I won’t disagree on that particular subject, but … it’s a job, Shay. We’ve done plenty of questionable things for bad people in the past, and you’ve gone along with it. I know Ashsong is one of the more odious gentlemen we’ve hitched out wagon to, but still –”

“This smells bad. A hell of a lot worse than anything we’ve touched in the past. I can feel it, something’s awfully wrong with this deal, we’re being used and I think something really bad could happen if we help this man and his … whatever the hell that thing is.” I sigh, deep and sorrowful, surprising myself a little. “I don’t know. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but it’s weighing on me. I don’t think this is something we can come back from.”

Min looks at me for a long time, and as I look up into her bright eyes I kind of get a little lost in them. She’s looking right into my soul, she’s too sharp for me to hold anything back. Then she reaches up and cups her hand to my cheek, incredibly gentle with her touch, and I almost jump back from it I’m so surprised. This is such a tender, open show of affection for her to make out here in the clear light of day, in front of everyone. But she does it anyway, and finally I just lean into it, closing my eyes.

“I miss your father.” she says after a while. It snaps me back to reality hard.

Errelim Ivystone, my father … he’s a complicated man, when I was growing up he was always such an enigma, even though he always made it clear he loved me. Hells, he taught me as much as my mother did when I was growing up. Everything I learned about the blade was from him, he made me one of the fiercest fighters in our entire community before I was fourteen years old. He also taught me how complex the world beyond these wildernesses really is, that things are never just black and white, that I have to pay attention all the time to make sure I don’t lose my way, and help keep others straight on their own path as much as I can. I’ve always taken that particular lesson to heart, tried to guide my mother best I could when I thought she was going wrong. God know he was always so good at that himself.

Then I turned fifteen and one night they got into a big fight, I didn’t hear enough of it to really get the gist of it but it sounded like it was about me. What my mother was turning me into, with her own lessons. Errelim was never a saint himself, he did some bad things himself on the road riding at my mother’s side, but suddenly he was getting cold feet. She really lit into him about it, I would’ve heard a lot more of it if Roe hadn’t pulled me away from their tent along with the rest of the crew. To be honest I’m kind of glad.

Next morning he was gone. He never came back, and she’s never mentioned him since. I find her crying occasionally, she’s stoic about it and it’s never more than the occasional tear that she‘s savage about wiping away before anyone else sees it, but I know she misses him as much as I do. She’s just never actually acknowledged the fact before.

“I miss him too.” I barely whisper it, but she smiles a little hearing it, leans forward, her forehead touching mine now. She’s almost five inches taller than me but she bends enough to make it easy for me.

“You’re so much like him. There are times you’ll do something, or say something, and it’s like he’s walked right back into my life. It hurts my heart sometimes. I loved him so much. I still do.”

“He wouldn’t have liked this deal any more than I do. You know that, don’t you?”

She pulls back now, looks at me again. It’s a more thoughtful look now, her gaze more critical. “Perhaps. But he’s not here now.” She lowers her hand now, steps back a little. “You still trust me, don’t you, Shay?”

Damn it … just when I thought I might’ve gotten through to her. “You know I do. It’s not about that –”

“We made a commitment, Shay. We took the man’s money, we’ve given him our word. We’re in this now, for better or worse. And now these people owe us blood, so we’re going to collect it. I need you with me in this.”

Sighing deeply, I set my jaw again. Clench my fists tightly, try to crush the anger down deep inside me again. “I always am, you know that. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Min grins at that, a little rueful but it’s warm enough. “Good enough for me.” This time she grips my shoulders, gives them a squeeze. More companionable now, simple comradely affection now. “You’ll win this time, I’m sure of it. You just need some proper help.” She swings back up into the saddle with ease, Trampler prancing a little once she’s comfortable. She turns to the caravan again, and shouts: “Noric!”

Somewhere further down the line, a few wagons toward the back of the convoy, one of the horsemen breaks away and starts trotting up to us. Once again the horse is damn big, but the rider on their back makes them look genuinely huge, a half-hob who I know barely tops four-six when he’s standing. That said, the various mongrel pieces of armour he’s wearing bulk him out some and he’s got a heavy broadsword slung across his back that I know has seen major use over the years. He’s grizzled and scarred, one of his eyes milky white and blind under a particularly deep cut that twists his mouth into a permanent half-sneer, and everyone he passes looks on him with respect and a small but healthy amount of caution.

“Mistress Min, at your service.” he growls, voice barely a raspy whisper thanks to a particularly nasty sword stroke in his youth, one of the many wounds that have pretty much made his name. Noric Shameless, one of Min’s most trusted lieutenants, and by far her fiercest. He tips me a respectful nod as he pulls the mount to halt and I’m happy to return it.

“Shay needs your help. How many of your boys are ready for a scrap?”

This elicits a croaking chuckle, and he tips me a little wink that makes me smile. “Hell, all of ‘em, really.”

“Excellent.” Min’s grin is almost predatory now, and her long tusks make it even more fierce to look at. It’s the kind of smile that instils such fear that it wins most fights before they’ve even started. “Rouse them all, then. I’m sure you won’t object if I put her in command for this one, do you? You’ve worked well enough together in the past.”

He looks down at me, thoughtful for a moment, but it’s all for show. Noric was onboard the moment she even implied we’d be working together. “I’m sure I could live with the indignity well enough under the circumstances.” he replies with a smile.

“Good.” She turns to look past me then, and I turn to find Garnon stood a few feet away, looking a little unsure of themselves right now. My mother’s always rattled them, to be honest. “Master Javette, so glad you could join us.”

They cough, clearly uncomfortable, and it takes them a few moments to gather their words. “Yes … yes, sorry, Mistress Min. Your daughter moves very quickly.”

“She does indeed.” That amused smile is back on her face again, clearly intended to mess with him. “Are you well, Master Javette?”

“Well enough under the circumstances, I suppose.”

“You’ll need all the power you can muster for this next try, Master Javette. Think you can turn the tide this time?”

Garnon scowls, I don’t think they can help it, they react to the question before than can quite stop themselves. They turn to me and I just give them a stony face, not wanting to get in the middle of this. I think I have an idea what my mother is getting at, anyway. “I’m not sure. What we threw at them this time should have ended them, but their wizard somehow pulled them through it. I think they might be a true Silver Order mage.”

Min’s brows arch at that, although I doubt she’s that surprised by the idea. Garnon would know what they’re talking about, they went to the Academy too, although it didn’t work out too well. I’ve often meant to ask them what exactly happened there, but I’ve never come up with the right way to broach the subject.

After a moment’s though she looks at me. “This one’s the best we have. If they’re not enough, then –”

“There’s got to be something more we can do.” I think for a moment, then an idea occurs to me, but it’s not one I find particularly appealing. When I look up I find my mother watching me closely, and I think she’s had the same idea. By comparison though, she simply looks sly right now. Damn it.

“Perhaps I should ask Master Ashsong if he’s willing to get his hands dirty after all.”