Alexis watched as Ulf throttled the boy. His chest rose and fell quickly from his exertion, and with his shirt off, she could see his impressive array of scars.

“Dammit, boy! You’re not even trying anymore!”

“My name is Martin,” the boy shouted as he attacked.

Ulf sidestepped the attack and shoved him to the ground.

“Names are for men, boy. Now get off the ground and attack me like you mean it.”

It had been this way every evening of their journey. Ulf would take the boy aside and beat the crap out of him. There was little instruction; just repeated commands to attack, do better, and stop crying. She was forced to step in most of the time to keep Ulf from really hurting him. She didn’t think he would do it on purpose, but his method of training, like so many things about him, was rough. It was time to end this session too.

“Ulf,” she called, “that is enough! If you keep this up, you are going to kill him.”

Ulf turned around to answer, and Martin struck. He picked up a rock and swung it at Ulf’s back, the highest point he could reach. Ulf grunted and dropped to one knee. For the first time, Alexis was anxious for Martin. The expression on Ulf’s face was emotionless. He turned around slowly and picked the rock out of Martin’s hands. Then he laughed.

“Better!” He bellowed. “Ya don’t let up just ‘cause your opponent does. Come, boy, it’s time to get some sleep.”

Martin stomped off to his bedroll, and Ulf moved toward the fire. Alexis poured a small mug of beer. She had discovered the keg shortly after the trip began, and they had come to an understanding. Well, it was an understanding now, at least. She handed it to him as he sat.

“I thought you were about to murder him.” She said.

“Why?” He asked, puzzled. “The boy’s finally starting to learn.”

“Do you think your lessons might be a little too rough?” She asked.

They had had this conversation many times, but she was determined to wear him down until he eased up on the boy.

“The best way to learn is by doing, and it’s the only way I know to teach. He’s doing good. The boy’s stronger than you think.”

He shrugged his shoulders as if he was trying to get something off his back. There was already a sizeable purple bruise forming.

“Gods that must hurt.” She said. Without warning, she let a trickle of power escape into him. He shuddered a little.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said.

“It wasn’t much.” She said a little regretfully. “I need you to be healthy.”

He put his shirt on and picked up his medallion. It looked like he had taken the time to bend it back into shape. He ran the chain through his fingers absently.

“When were you planning to tell me we were going to Cathair?” He asked after a time.

The question was so unexpected that she stammered her reply.

“How do you know that is where we are going?”

“I’ve been there before, I know the way. It’s where I got this.”

He stopped fiddling with the chain and put it around his neck. Alexis thought back to the first time she had seen it.

“You said it was a gift from your second wife; you met her there?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I lived there for a while after I left home.”

Ulf was the last person she would expect to reminisce, but this was better than their usual bickering, so she went along.

“What happened to her?” She asked quietly.

“She died.”

He was staring into the fire with a longing expression. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Before she had a chance to speak, he continued.

“I left my first wife.” He said. “The marriage was arranged by my father, but we didn’t love each other. When he died, I decided to leave the north. She wouldn’t go with me, so I just left.”

It was hard to hear the regret in his voice, and she wanted to stop him. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her do that, though.

“So, you moved to Cathair and met your second wife?” She asked. “What was her name?”

“Adair,” he responded quietly. “She caught the shakes shortly after we married.”

Alexis remembered being upset that he had called her a wench after the attack at the inn. She understood now that he was defending himself from his own feelings. She didn’t know how long he had repressed his pain but, now that he was sharing, she was going to help him get it all out.

“You came home after that?” She asked.

“I moved around a bit first,” he replied hollowly. “After she died, I wanted to die too. I took every dangerous job I could find. The Gods must have decided I hadn’t suffered enough because I kept surviving. Finally, I decided if I was going to die, I wanted to do it in my homeland.”

“What made you change your mind?” She asked.

He looked at her. “Change my mind about what?”

“Dying. You obviously don’t want to die anymore.”

He turned back to the fire. “Time,” he said. “Time and Wilhelm.”

She remembered how dismissive he had been about Wilhelm’s death. That was obviously a defense as well.

“You and Wilhelm were close?” She asked.

“He was my brother.”

“Ulf, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“He wasn’t my brother by blood. It was more than that.”

He didn’t seem to have anything left to say and just sat staring into the fire. The chill the flames had been keeping at bay suddenly seeped into her. She shivered and pulled her coat closer around her. At the movement, Ulf turned from the fire.

“Why are we going there?” He asked.

“I have friends there. They can help us.” She said carefully.

“Do we need help?”

“Everyone needs help.” She answered.

“Still ain't gonna tell me?”

“Ulf, please, I can’t say more.”

He looked her in the eye. “I get it. I’m just the help.”

There was so much he didn’t know that he should, and she could tell him none of it. She desperately wanted to explain, but these weren’t her secrets alone. The remainder of the trip wasn’t going to be pleasant.

When they woke the next morning, Ulf was back to his gruff self. He talked Martin through the process of stoking the fire and getting breakfast ready. As usual, that involved a lot of yelling. While she ate, though, he started packing up the camp. It had been their habit recently to linger a little in the morning before starting. He obviously felt today was different. She decided not to say anything.

As expected, the trip was uncomfortable. Ulf passed the time by drinking heavily, and Martin sat quietly in the wagon. She spent the time trying to figure out what to say to the order. She did have information to pass along, but they weren’t likely to be impressed by her decision to run. They were going to be even less impressed by the presence of Ulf and Martin. She had to make sure he was sober when they met. If he wasn’t, he probably wouldn’t leave the meeting. Better yet, she might convince him not to attend. It would mean he could go his own way when it was over. The thought was surprisingly disheartening, but it was for his own good.

“Ulf,” she said, “I want you to stay behind when I meet my friends.”

He didn’t respond, and she wasn’t sure if he had heard her. He wobbled in the saddle as he tried to change the reigns from one hand to the other. Some of his drink spilled on his wrist, and he cursed loudly. Perhaps she should bring this up later, she thought. He slowed his horse and moved next to the wagon.

“Boy!” He shouted. “Fill this cursed thing back up!”

Martin hesitantly took the mug and filled it. Ulf took it back and peered into it. Without warning, he hurled it into the distance. Alexis looked on apprehensively. Their eyes met, and he made a disgusted sound. At least he wasn’t drinking anymore.

There was plenty of daylight left when they came to Cathair. The city looked like what it was, a sprawling capital. It had no walls, but the haphazardly placed buildings and a maze of streets effectively made the inner city unassailable. There were towers just visible in the distance that housed the ruling council. Lady Jillian Maureen headed it, but the real authority came from her brother Ian. Their rule was fair but very strict. The letter of the law was upheld regardless of the accused. A few council members had learned that lesson to their cost in the early days of Jillian’s reign. Coming here always made Alexis uneasy. If a single rumor of her purpose made its way to those in power, her life would be forfeit, along with those of everyone she knew.

She looked back at Ulf and Martin. Ulf was looking straight ahead, taking in nothing, but Martin was wide-eyed and trying to take in everything. With any luck, they would both be too distracted to notice the route she was taking. No one took notice as they made their way through the crowded street. She enjoyed the anonymity the crowd provided. It made it easier to relax when she got turned around and had to retrace her path. Finally, she found the place she was looking for.

The Broken Loaf was a baker’s shop a little way into the city. It had the distinction of being one of the few enclosed shops in the district. It was a large, single-story building. She wondered if it did enough business to warrant its size. It must, she thought, or else it would be useless for its real purpose. She instructed Ulf and Martin to stay outside and entered. She was greeted by a kindly looking old woman standing behind a polished counter.

“Good day to ya ma’am. What can I do fer ya?” She asked.

“I want to buy a loaf of bread,” Alexis responded.

“You’ve come to the right place. Whatcha looking fer?”

Alexis leaned on the counter. “Do you have any three-day-old Rye?” She asked.

The old woman straightened and looked around. “We don’t get much call fer that, I’ll have ta check with the baker.”

As she was walking away, Alexis added, “Please tell him I need as many loaves as he can find.”

The woman didn’t acknowledge her last words. She disappeared behind a curtain and was gone for several minutes. When she came back, she was carrying a basket of small round loaves.

“The baker says ta come back tomorrow, and he’ll see what he can find.” She handed the basket to Alexis. “Would ya be a dear and run this over to the Bucket, James has been after me all day for his delivery.”

The Bucket was the tavern her order used as a safe house of sorts. They should find comfortable lodging for the night. Finding the place, however, proved more difficult than anticipated. She had to stop for directions several times. Ulf made matters worse by drunkenly berating anyone less than polite. That turned out to be most of them. She had to resolve a few of the altercations with money to avoid calling the attention of the watch. It was a relief when they found it at last.

The bucket, as it turned out, was not the comfortable respite she was expecting. The building was dirty and rundown. Smoke poured from the open slits that served as windows while the chimney allowed barely a trickle to escape. The noise from inside did little to cheer her.

When the three of them entered, they were greeted by raucous laughter. There was some sort of spectacle in the rear of the main room. She tried to rescue her eyes from the dense smoke by waving her hands, but it was pointless. She felt Ulf brush past her on his way to the laughing crowd. He muttered something about blowing off some steam on his way. She went to the bar and set the basket down. Martin stayed by her side the whole time.

“I’m looking for James,” she shouted to the bartender.

The man behind the bar looked like he would be just as at home in the crowd of revelers. He was burly and unshaven, and his knuckles looked like they had seen the rough side of someone’s face a few times.

“You just missed him,” he said, taking the basket. “You can find him in the stable.”

Alexis sighed. She drew Martin away and went to find Ulf, and the bartender shouted at her as she walked away.

“In the loft!”

She sighed again. Of course, it would be the loft. She walked to the mass of people but couldn’t see Ulf anywhere. Trying to force her way through the crowd proved impossible, so she led Martin to the door. Ulf would just have to find his own way to the stable.

When she got situated in the loft, she decided this was probably better than a room. The air was clear of the thick smoke, and the hay proved an excellent insulator. It was warm and comfortable despite the chill of the night. Ulf showed up a while later, covered in bruises and blood. Thankfully, the latter was mostly not his.

“What happened to you?” She asked.

“Been busy,” he said wearily.

“Busy doing what? Playing sparring dummy?”

“Nah,” he said. “You should see the other fella. He ain't gonna be happy when he wakes up.”

“Well, don’t expect me to help with those cuts.” She said hotly.

He touched a long purple laceration on his cheek, where blood trickled down his face. He winced a little but smiled.

“Bah,” he retorted. “This ain't nothin’.”

The beer was obviously dulling the pain because it looked painful to her. More than one person wasn’t going to be happy in the morning. As angry as she was, she thought this might be a good thing. He wasn’t likely to get up early enough to try to follow her to the meeting. If all went well, he would still have control over his life tomorrow afternoon. He started singing loudly, and she slapped him on the back of the head.

“Martin’s sleeping, idiot.” She chided.

He made a hushing noise. “Can’t you see the boy’s asleep,” he slurred. Without another word, he fell onto some hay and was asleep himself.

She woke the next morning quietly. The gesture was unnecessary because Ulf was snoring so loudly a train of wagons could have passed without notice. She donned fresh clothes and, with a glance at her companions, left.

The streets were nearly empty. She found her way easier now that there was no throng of people hindering her progress. As she walked, part of her hoped her message had been ignored. On the verge of facing the order face to face for the first time in years, she was terrified. Gregory was as pompous a man she had ever met, and the others were only marginally better. They weren’t cruel or unnecessarily mean, just utterly confident in their own superiority. She always felt like a little girl in their presence.

She reached the Broken Loaf and walked in. The old woman was behind the counter and gestured for her to follow. She looked a little sad.

“They ain't happy,” she whispered.

When she pulled the curtain aside, she saw that her message had been received loud and clear. The full order sat arrayed at a table. In the center was Gregory. He was lean and meticulously groomed. His black hair was slicked back, and his wide thin mustache extended beyond his cheeks to a fine point. He was wearing flowing blue robes of exquisite cloth. The smile he wore was not at all friendly. To his left sat Mira and Glenda. They were equally well dressed but wore solemn expressions. On the right were Jacob and Michael. They looked no less severe. These five people were members of the elite in Cathair. All of them openly practiced magic, and all of them had vast influence. Gregory leaned forward and spoke.

“Alexis, what an unexpected pleasure.” His voice was as arrogant as his dress.

“Hello, Greg,” she said.

“Alexis, dear, I do so detest the laziness employed by the shortening of one’s name. You know very well that my name is Gregory, and I prefer to be addressed thusly.”

It appeared his pomposity had grown over the years. She was saved from a response by Mira.

“Yes, yes, Gregory. We know how much you love your own name, but we aren’t here to discuss how great you are.”

Jacob nodded and added, “For once can we get through a meeting without listening to you prattle about propriety?”

Gregory sneered. “I don’t see why we should,” he said. “After all, without propriety, we may as well be barbarians. But we do stray from the problem at hand.” He looked back at Alexis. “Why are you here?”

All of her carefully rehearsed words vanished under that gaze.

“I was forced to leave.” She said. The statement wasn’t an explanation, but it was all she could think to say.

Gregory seemed to have a scathing comment ready to go, but Michael beat him to it.

“How were you forced to leave? If you were discovered, then coming here was an enormous error in judgment.”

Alexis was saved from answering again, but this time it was by a commotion in the storefront.

“I tell you, woman, I am going behind that curtain!”

Alexis’ shoulders slumped as Ulf’s voice rang out loudly. The members of the order stood in alarm as he entered the room.

“There you are,” he shouted. “How am I supposed to protect you if ya don’t tell me where you’re going?”

Gregory sat back down. He spread his hands and looked at Alexis.

“Would you mind explaining who this person is and why he is brandishing what appears to be a table leg?”

So much for leaving him behind, she thought.