Kain is still on guard-duty until Leah is officially cured – which she supposes either Wellen or the Lord will decide for her.

Where this might have bothered her, in other circumstances, instead she decides to enjoy the freedom. Not having to take care of Jeno, she is free to wander out and talk with her teammates. She finds Meredith and Iris on the training ground early in the morning, despite the rain.

Meredith acknowledges Leah’s arrival with a nod, then returns to her practice. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” she says, between blows. “How we aren’t being told who the translator is, for the missives. It was such a small, nothing detail – just the sort of irrelevant thing you always focus on – yet the more I thought about it, the more important it seemed. And then, with the Valerids denying me permission to see the collected missives…” She gives a few extra-strong swings and cleaves the arm off the straw dummy.

“Denying?” Leah prompts.

Meredith sighs and kicks the arm aside. “They said that their scholars were taking care of it, that it wasn’t our business.” She punctuates the word with a sharp stab at the practice dummy. Leah notices a bit of bitterness in her voice at that statement; not a hot, angry bitterness, but an old, familiar, tired bitterness.

She hazards a guess. “This is about how women aren’t allowed to be scholars, isn’t it?”

Meredith seems shocked to be found out, turning back to Leah with an appraising look. “I suppose at some level, yes.”

“Did you want to be a scholar, and being a warrior was your fall-back?”

“I wanted…” Meredith shakes her head, then sets the swords back in the weapons rack and takes a seat beside Leah. “My mother and father are knighted. We have a small-ish estate in Volst, not far from the capital – some farmland, a forest with deer and partridge. We aren’t nobility, technically, but in a few generations we could be.”

“So wait, if you’re sort-of noble, do you have a title?”

She smirks. “Technically, I am Dame Havren, or Ma’am Havren in Welleslass.”

Leah raises an eyebrow. “But the Valerids and Auzzos always call you ‘Miss?’”

Meredith shrugs it off. “I’m not set to inherit anything, and my children – if I ever retire and have any – won’t inherit either. My title is a dead-end, and I don’t use it for myself. I always knew I was going to be an adventurer like my father and mother had been, but I was…” Meredith makes a sour face. “They held me back. They sent my younger brother to school first, and then they let me take a few courses. For the inheritance, you see; if I was going to be an adventurer, I couldn’t also be the heir.”

Leah nods but doesn’t follow.

“I did do two years at the academy, and a half-year at the university, and three years of tutors and private study. I know that that’s more than most people can ever hope for, and I’m not ungrateful…”

“Do people not know that you’re educated? Do they see you as ‘Meredith the fighter’ and just assume?”

“I think they assume that I went to school on a formality, not because I wanted to, so when I try to talk about politics or law or culture, they think I’m parroting facts, not actually trying to have a conversation. When I was a kid, talking with my parents’ friends, it hurt a bit; now that I’m an independent adult, leading my own team…being treated as dumb muscle is insulting.”

Leah nods. “Is that what happened when you asked about the missives?”

“Lord Valerid is understanding, compared to some, but he knows me better by my recent reputation than by my birth, I think.” Meredith rolls her shoulders and gets back up to practice. “I got the impression he thought I was being pushy, that I should better spend my energies training for the defence than trying to plan it.” She picks up a sword and swings a few times, testing the weight.

“Did you at least find out which scholars have the missives?” Leah asks.

Meredith shrugs one-sided, the other arm running through motions with the sword. “He didn’t say. Perhaps Wellen, although I don’t know for certain that he speaks Old West Volsti. More likely someone within the estate.” She jabs a few times. “It’s better to practice with two, if you’re interested.”

“I shouldn’t; my ribs are still on the mend, I think.”

Meredith hums a response, picking up her other sword and returning to beating the shit out of the straw dummy.

Iris, at the other end of the training area, is busy practicing some sort of move where she swings her war-hammer around and tries to hit as many targets as she can. She shifts her weight smoothly and gracefully from foot to foot, so that none of the impacts overbalance her or make her reach too far. In practice, it looks more like a dance than a fighting move, if one ignores the clangs of the hammer against the old armour strung over the dummies.

Leah reflects on Jeno’s assessment of Iris as bloodthirsty and wild, and can’t help but agree.

“You holding up okay?” Iris asks, noticing Leah watching her.

“Yeah, I’m recovering quickly,” Leah says, patting her ribs gently.

“I meant in that stuffy little room,” Iris says, setting down the war-hammer on its head and walking over to her, brushing a curl of brown hair out of her eyes. “I know you’ve never been much of a reader, but do you want me to bring you a book or something? Sneak you a drink? Carry secret love letters to an admirer? I go to the mainland often enough, it wouldn’t be out of my way.”

Leah laughs and gives her a gentle push. “I’m making do, and I’ll be let loose soon, I imagine.”

“We’ll celebrate,” Iris says, winking. “A toast to our newly decorated teammate, eh?”

Leah scoffs, and Iris laughs at her light blush, returning to the training field.

Or, maybe, Jeno’s assessment was a little short-sighted. She retires to her room for rest and to think.

So the spell made me remember things in a dream. Does it only work the one time? And why did it work? Wellen said something about repressed memories, but if that were the case I’d be a blank slate. I’m clearly myself…but this body used to be someone else. That’s why the muscle memory works, I’d bet. So where’s the line drawn? What counts as conscious and unconscious memory?

Leah sits cross-legged in bed and focuses, trying to access suppressed memories, or whatever they are. She lets her mind wander, and tries to call something – anything – to mind. Names. Faces. Sounds. Tastes. The sound of humming distracts her, and she opens her eyes. After a confused moment, she realises she had been the person humming – a short tune, only about six seconds, but not one she recognises from her own memories.

If I knew how to ID notes by ear I’d write it down, but I think I’m screwed. Leah muses, as the tune slips away the more she tries to think of it. Damn. So much for that brilliant idea. Let’s just use magic, it seems more reliable than meditation and reflection.

Wellen does not pass by again, and Leah feels a little bummed that she’s not going to get to see any magic today. Her ribs do feel much better, though, so she supposes that resting must be doing most of the work at this point.

Kain stops by before supper to collect Jeno, but also to collect Leah. “The hedge-wizard has announced you ought to be recovered by now, if all worked as it should. If you’re feeling well enough, you can start back on your duties,” she says, and Jeno beams, listening in.

Leah gets up from bed gratefully, removing the bandages; the bruise is unnoticeable, and the twinge when she moves is very faint. “Starting right now?”

“I suppose,” Kain says, “But you’d have to dress for supper. You should also probably wear the pin you were given.”

Leah nods and gets dressed as quickly as she can, pinning the ribbon to her chest. Jeno is waiting for her outside, and Leah accompanies her down.

After two nights away from the dining hall, Leah is somewhat glad to be back in the bustle. So much more to look at, here, than in that tiny room. I ought to be studying these people, trying to figure out more about this world. Are they always the same faces, every night? Do I recognise any from previous dinners? Or just recognise them in general, I suppose, if I’ve got buried memories of this world.

She studies the people down the table, lesser nobles and such. The dyes of their clothing seem more vivid than what Leah has seen on the streets of the city, and some wear jewellery.

“Who are all these people, anyway?” Leah asks Vivitha, who sets aside her supper to look them over.

“Mostly, they’re the next generation of merchant families. Some are land owners, a couple own shipping companies.”

“So all wealthy people?”

“Mhmm. Money is power, so they’re all here to be near its seat.”

“How can a hierarchy keep control over a money-driven state?” Leah asks, pushing her food around her plate distractedly. “The Valerids must have land or contracts or something to outshine everyone else.”

Vivitha shakes her head. “The Valerids rule because Volst wills it to be so.” She says it like the most obvious thing in the world. “Having the blessing of Volst means they get priority over all trade contracts and such, even if they don’t offer the best or the most.”

“Then there must be some resentment from the other, better-off families, who feel their hard work is snubbed because they lack standing.”

Vivitha gives her an odd look, then a pensive one, then a doubtful one. “Political conniving is inevitable, but Gods forgive whoever acts on it, against the will of Volst.”

What is Volst, exactly? I’ve been assuming it’s some sort of coloniser-colony relationship, but I’m not sure that’s quite right. Is it colonial, or imperial, or allegiance-based, or maybe extortion-based? Is it a religious rule, and Lords are named by a sort of Pope figure in Volst?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a speech from the Duchess and Lady, who welcome her return back to their company, thankful for her recovery. Light applause follows, and Leah gives an awkward seated bow. She is uncomfortable in everyone’s eye, and rubs the pin nervously.

“Have I missed anything while recovering?” Leah asks the others.

“S’been quiet,” Iris says, “But I bet they’ll want a debriefing anyway, now that you’re back.”

As if on cue, the Lady leans over to Meredith and whispers that there will be a meeting after the meal, in the larger office again. Iris rolls her eyes but makes no comment.

At the debriefing, Leah listens carefully for an opportunity to ask about the missives in a way that doesn’t sound too intelligent or too suspicious. She has been largely a silent presence at past meetings, but hopes that good-will towards the hero of the hour will smooth over any mistake she might make.

Before she can ask, however, Meredith beats her to it. “Who has the missives, currently? I assume they are somewhere safe?” She addresses the question to both the Auzzos and the Valerids.

Both seem surprised, momentarily silenced. “Safe, yes,” the Duke says finally. “And out of harm’s way.”

The Lord nods, looking at Meredith carefully. “We are keeping them all, along with everything else we have found on the invasion forces. There may be indications as to his allies and his potential strength, in the gear with which he outfitted his advance troops.”

“In whose care are they being kept?” Meredith asks, her tone even but her left hand clenching and unclenching, below the table and out of sight of the others. Leah notices this, and notices the fact that Meredith has essentially just repeated her question with different phrasing. Oh, she’s impatient. She’s not happy about this at all. Leah is torn between being amused and worried.

“Our translator,” the Duchess says evenly.

“We have a number of people looking them over for clues, but we do not believe there is any code or hidden message within them,” the Lord says, spreading his hands. “I assume you are asking because you wish to see them?”

“I only wanted to know what was being done with them, and whether they were in safe custody. I am certain that those trained in the language are better equipped than I am to study the missives. You said the other items were being kept there, as well?”

“Miss Havren raises an interesting point,” the Duchess says, before Lord Valerid can answer. “Couldn’t the five have insight into the items found on Seffon’s forces? They are after all the only people in this city who have been in and out of his stronghold.” Duchess Auzzo turns to look directly at Meredith. “That was where you were going with this, wasn’t it?”

Meredith nods mutely, apparently stunned to have been granted such easy access to the items, and for the specific purpose of exercising her knowledge.

The Duke and Lord agree to this, and the Duke sends a page to summon their translator, who arrives in short order with the scrolls and a number of weapons in tow. He lays these out on the table for all to see and consult; Iris and Vivitha examine the weapons, while Kain, Meredith, and Leah look over the missives.

Conversation becomes grimmer at the missive end of the table; each one is passed from hand to hand, as people debate the seriousness of his tone versus the likelihood of his bluffing certain figures or intentions. Looking them over, Leah notices that the handwriting, spelling, and wording are all different from the scroll she has hidden in her room: Th kyng o Jun…dimands surrendyr…yen forcis are too feu…houpl’ss…

She is certain of this major difference, but is not certain what it means. Did Seffon change his tone, to seem more placating? Is the scroll I found a lie? She looks over a few more. The wording is the same in each one, and the colour of the ink, and the shade of the wax used to seal them.

One of them she notices has a purplish-red crescent moon stain, as though from the bottom of a wine bottle, over the house symbol. The ink of the symbol has run and smudged a bit, making the shield look like it is bleeding.

Leah remembers one of the taboos Wellen mentioned, and very hesitantly holds it out to Kain, sitting next to her, and mutters: “Wine on his sigil?”

Kain looks affronted, and visibly swallows her first response. “It’s just a drawing until it is a recognised nation’s sigil, which was what we were hired to stop, remember?” she responds curtly. She takes the scroll and passes it on. Leah says nothing more.

It’s clear they do not recognise Seffon’s legitimacy, but I guess that’s not surprising. ‘A recognised nation’s sigil:’ what the fuck does that mean? And why is the taboo important in the first place? Alcohol seems common enough out here, so it can’t be something about alcohol being seen as dirty, but it must be something bad. Or…maybe not, if my bringing up the possibility of recognizing him is more offensive than the possibility of their having broken that taboo.

The debriefing ends, and all the items are collected to be put back in their storage place. Leah compiles a mental list of things to ask Wellen the next time she sees him.

When the five leave into the hallway, there is some whispering behind her, and Meredith suddenly reaches forward to grab her arm and pull her around. “You insinuated what?” she whispers hoarsely, and Leah panics for a moment.

“Oh, the wine?” Leah asks; this just seems to make Meredith even more shocked. “I didn’t mean anything, I was just confused. Wellen has been re-teaching me about taboos, and I wanted to be sure that I understood. I didn’t realise the seriousness of the accusation.”

Meredith looks at her with a scrunched forehead. “Why has he been teaching you about taboos?”

“I asked him to. I don’t want to accidentally break any laws, and until my memories come back I can’t guarantee I won’t stumble into doing so.”

There is a moment of silence, and then Meredith sinks into laughter, smothered so no-one back in the room can hear it. The others laugh too, fondly and familiarly.

Leah looks between them. “What?”

Meredith straightens and sighs, sobering up. “No, no, it makes sense, it’s just…you’ve always been the most devoted to self-discipline and following the laws out of any of the five of us, and the fact that you…that you thought you were going to stumble into breaking the law…”

Leah joins the laughter at herself, and they resume their path to their rooms. Leah and Kain stay closest for the longest, though Kain’s rooms are back next to the rest of the team’s. She half-expects Kain to say something by the end of it, but instead Kain just gives her a friendly nod and leaves her at the door to the room, adjoined to Jeno’s.

Paranoid suddenly, Leah opens the door a crack just to make sure Jeno isn’t waiting on her bed when she arrives, and that Kain couldn’t see it if she were.

*

Leah takes care to escort Jeno to breakfast according to proper protocol, staying a respectful distance behind her. Jeno seems to enjoy playing the part of a future-Lady, and dismisses her politely but formally at the breakfast table. Leah swings down through the kitchens on her way to the stables and picks up a fresh hot roll from Kimry, and decides it would be good manners to thank the cook too. She feels at ease in this world, yet is swallowing an ever-growing fear that had kept her up most of the previous night, when she’d decided she needed to talk to Wellen about past-Leah.

She calls one of the stable-girls to saddle up Beeswax, and carefully studies how she does it; she feels she must be able to do it on her own soon, and must not make any mistakes. She can manage getting up and directing her out of the stables onto the main road, and the horse has even begun to adjust to Leah’s new style of riding enough not to shy or balk.

The bridge bustles with activity, but the foot traffic parts ways for her. She arrives early at Wellen’s home, to find him already awake and reading a book in his garden, behind the main building.

He seems surprised to see her there so early. “You’re healed enough to walk about the estate and look after the Lady Auzzo, but you shouldn’t be riding so soon,” he says, slightly disapproving, but falls silent at the look on her face. “Let’s go inside to talk.”

Leah gratefully dismounts and ties Beeswax up, then follows Wellen indoors. She explains, haltingly, what happened at the briefing the night before. He seems confused why this has upset her so much, but does not interrupt.

“I’ve been trying to remember who I used to be, but…I’m not getting anywhere,” she finishes with a sigh.

“You’d like to try more magic?” Wellen sounds uneasy.

“No! It’s not that. It’s about…her. The person I used to be, before my memory went away.” A moment of silence, while she searches for the words. “I’ve been trying to act like people expect me to, react how I think people want me to react…make them think I’m the person they remember me being. But I have to take their word for who I was.”

“And you’re bothered that you don’t know who you really were?”

Leah hesitates. “I went looking. I read my diary – not a very inspiring read – and I tried to deduce things from my belongings and my muscle-instincts.”

Wellen watches her, frowning in confusion.

Leah takes a deep breath. “And I found…there’s…I think the person I used to be…broke the law. In a bad way.” Wellen leans back but says nothing. “I’m saying this because…I want your advice, as a philosopher. I am not guilty, but if I keep this ruse up, am I? How do I get out of the situation other-me put me into?”

“That depends on which law you broke.”

Leah chews her lip. “One of the taboos.”

Wellen does not move for a long moment. “Oh.” He sniffs, and rubs his chin. “Why tell me?”

“Because you’re the only person here I trust to understand my situation.”

“Ah. Of course.” He pauses for a few seconds, pensive. “Thank you.”

Leah looks up in surprise, and sees Wellen seems genuinely moved. “You’ve reached out to me more often in the past week than anyone else; you’ve been a student and a friend. I’m grateful you see something of the same in me.” The kindness is shadowed by uncertainty. “I will, if possible, help you in your, ah, situation.”

He does not ask which taboo, and Leah does not tell. Wellen explains to her that she should keep it a secret, especially since she can’t be sure it really happened until her memories come back fully. He offers her another round of the rodent skull spell, and Leah hesitates before agreeing. “Is so much magic safe, in such a short time?”

“It’s nothing horribly invasive, so yes, it’s fine.”

“Only, before, you seemed nervous that I might ask for more magic…”

Wellen shrugs. “I was more worried you might ask me how to go about learning it. I get away with what I do because Lord Valerid knows I am obedient to him, and to Volst. A foreigner…especially a foreigner who has been held hostage by a mage recently…”

“I see,” Leah says. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could ask to learn some magic…would it even be possible? Do you need to be born with the ability?

Wellen sets up the spell; stones on the table, rodent skull, wine-mixture. Once more she breathes in the awful smell, but this time she tries to stay there a bit longer, even when Wellen gently pulls her away from it. She watches the swimming blue patterns across her vision, and for a brief moment actually does lose consciousness, slipping in the chair while Wellen has turned away to burn the skull. She wakes up just to see the rat staring at her, then turning to a wisp of blue and floating away.

“As before, you will probably dream tonight of some memories from your past. Be careful who you tell about them, but…well, you know what the taboos are, you know what not to say to others.” Wellen says this kindly, but seems himself rattled. “That one seemed to hit you worse than before.”

“It must be the pain in my ribs,” Leah lies, and Wellen nods absently, putting the components away with great care. Leah thinks he seems unnerved by his own frequent use of magic, and is grateful it didn’t occur to her to ask for lessons.

Leah thanks him and asks if there is a library within the estate, where she can continue to research the geography and politics of this world.

“The only library within the keep is the Valerids’ private one,” Wellen says. “But I have a number of books I could lend you. What are you looking for?”

“Anything that will help me get familiar with this world,” Leah says. “Geography, politics, economics.”

“How odd, that you’ve taken to books so quickly…” he muses, pulling a number of varied tomes off the shelves.”

“Well, I…I need to learn quickly, and can’t monopolise all of your time,” she mumbles. Wellen hands her the stack of books, bound together with leather straps.

She takes the books and rides home. Once there, she makes a map in her diary of this region of the world, and marks down the names of countries, their governments, their exports, their militaries, their stance on magic, and anything else she finds. She goes in order, from south-west to north-east then into the water.

Devad

Government: Hierarchy (king/queen); lords of towns; no provincial structure

Exports: Tomatoes, figs, timber, silver, black pepper, leather, beef, soda ash, lime

Military: Low study of magic, occasional experts; famed for cavalry

Volst

Government: Hierarchy (king/queen); lords of provinces

Exports: Grain, rubies, whiskeys, brandies, vodkas, potatoes, fish

Military: No study of magic, experts persecuted; decent navy

Provinces:

Valerin; Opals (some), coffee, lemons, almonds, walnuts, bay leaf

Probesc; Apples, fine cheeses, pork, truffles, salt, goat meat

Welleslass; Opals (numerous), vodkas, marble, spinel, rubies (some), barley, amber

Nations of Bair

Government: Assorted (council; hierarchical; tribunal; combination)

Exports: Medicines, tin, iron, worked steel, garlic, paper, amber

Military: Much magic, many experts (combat & civilian); famed for their armour & arms

Algi

Government: Ungoverned; individual towns ruled by lords or mayors

Exports: Linen fabric, timber, sunflower seeds, mustard seed, iron, copper, vellum, honey

Military: Some study of magic, mostly for entertainment not offence; private militias

Nent

Government: Plutocracy? (Mine-owners have all power, hereditary, but also religion?)

Exports: Peridots, quartz, copper, zinc, pine lumber, potatoes, wool

Military: Some study of magic, few experts (religious use)

Cheden

Government: Hierarchy (emperor/empress); margraves or dukes of provinces (duchies?)

Exports: Olives, calamari, bow-wood, goat cheese, gold

Military: Some study of magic

Provinces/duchies/whatever:

Ben-Lia: Gold, electrum, wine, soap, olives, olive oils

Abv-Tel: Granite, goat cheese, glass, chinchilla fur

Gor-Labv: Elderberry wine, tin, book-binding services, granite

Looking at what she’s listed out, she feels a sudden guilt at having written in – technically speaking – another person’s diary.

She picks the pen back up and writes in the margins.

Hello, Leah. Sorry for having read your diary and writing all this weird stuff in it, and also for any mistakes I’ve made in upholding your life. I’m doing my best. I hope that someday I’ll find my way home, and wherever or whatever you are, you can take over for me here.

She is suddenly hit with the worrying realisation that maybe her body isn’t in a coma in her home world, but that maybe the unintelligent fighter Leah is living her life. She gets a sinking feeling in her gut about her rent and her bills, and decides that she had better find a way home soon, before both of their lives get too mixed up to ever fix.