Seffon and Leah part ways, with only a few hours left before supper. Leah spends the time reading up more on Cheden’s history while watching the pheasants in the garden.

She finds confirmation of the story Seffon told, about the beginning of the imperial line; the story is framed as their standing strong against poor morals, that when their own nation tried to sell its populace to buy peace, this family refused to be abused. Leah muses about slavery in this world – she knows Kimry’s position is nominally that of indentured servitude, but the fact that her whole family was sold by a mine owner as penance for a fake gem shipment seems closer to slavery, or a very intense sort of serfdom.

I wonder how all the others end up in servitude? She watches a pair of servants leave from the Hold and wander across the open space to the walls, each carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies. They chat in clear, loud voices, the tone joking though the language is unfamiliar to Leah’s ears. They don’t seem abused. They don’t seem depressed. But they also don’t seem local, going by the language. I wish I had the guts to ask Seffon about it, but…no. Don’t rock the boat, Leah. I’ll keep an eye on it, see if I can figure out the situation myself, but no need to accuse anyone of human rights violations. If it looks really bad, but not so bad that a single person is powerless to fix it, I’ll dig further.

Well, what about that whole non-intervention thing? The one where you shouldn’t force your values onto another person’s culture? She snickers to herself a bit. I think I threw that out the window when I introduced them to electricity; might as well start an abolition movement while I’m here, too. I’m sure that’ll make me a bunch of friends. Especially considering that so far, I’ve really only gotten to know the upper echelons of this place, plus John. Oh, and Teo. Probably for the best that I don’t know more people; it’d just be more faces I need to lie to.

Man, this is getting complicated. Am I taking on too much? I should be focusing on getting home. Her hands run over the book in her lap, the leather cover supple and warm in the sunlight. Idly she wonders if maybe it’s bad for it to be exposed to UV, but the warmth feels good and she doesn’t want to get up just yet. We’re working on that. Well, Seffon is, more accurately. And I trust him.

Huh. She blinks. I trust him. When did that happen? There’s a difference between getting along with someone and believing they’ll help, and actually trusting them. Huh. Feels…nice?

She is distracted from her speculations by a male pheasant putting on a fancy display, with long wing feathers spotted and striped in wild patterns their whole length. Her thoughts circle around to her own appearance, and she realises she isn’t sure how to dress for the coming supper. Returning to her room, she finds the least-creased of the clothing she was loaned, and uses a spare strip of fabric as a headband; for some reason, she feels comforted wearing it, like her body remembers the feeling of fabric pulling her hair away from her face. She misses the one she left in Valerin.

Returning up to the same dining room as before, Leah finds Seffon already there, dressed in somewhat more business-like attire than last time, Sewheil dressed identically as before, and Adan arriving a few minutes after Leah with no armour but still wearing her long sword at her hip. She unbuckles it to sit, laying it lengthwise under the table. Areiu is, unsurprisingly, absent from this meeting.

Supper is served. The conversation is sombre. Seffon mentions that Leah has recreated the Devadiss anti-magic device, but stronger. Adan accepts it when he says that she wishes its existence kept a secret, and all prototypes to be destroyed “after the conflict is over.”

Sewheil asks privately if Leah’s injuries are healing properly, and requests that she visit the next morning for a final treatment, just to be safe, and to reduce scarring. Leah surprises herself by understanding most of this without needing to rely on Seffon’s translations – she can’t decide whether her lessons with John are paying off, or if maybe exposure has made her ear better able to pick out the particularities of the dialect.

While the ‘dessert’ course is being served – Leah is almost used to the flavour by now – and Seffon is steering the conversation towards Leah’s time unconscious, there is a knock at the door. With a disgruntled look at being interrupted, Seffon sets down his drink and opens the door partially. One of the guards standing outside has a quick word with him in Olues, and Adan’s hand lingers at her knee, near but not at the sword’s hilt.

Leah can’t catch the words, but the tone seems uncertain and worried. A third, somewhat familiar voice, joins in from the hallway. Seffon falls silent at the words, and in the silence, the stranger from the hallway steps forward past the guard at the door, to stand in front of Seffon. Immediately Sewheil’s hands go into a pose and her expression hardens, ready to cast a spell.

“I can spy fõ miself,” the newcomer says aloofly. She wears the outfit of a local, perhaps a student, but Seffon clearly does not recognise her.

It takes a moment for Leah to place the face, but the large mane of tight black curls gives her away almost as soon as her voice does.

“Solace?”

Solace’s head turns, and she nods politely to Leah. Sewheil drops her hands slightly, but her expression does not shift; Adan is still ready to defend; Seffon is looking to Leah for answers; the guard looks half-panicked with uncertainty.

“Sy came teu th dõs on fu, aseng teu sy…Ley,” the guard says hesitantly, eyes darting between Seffon and Leah.

Seffon frowns at this, but Solace dismisses it with a hand-wave. “I have a nos fõ trouble, an so does sy; yu souldnau by surpris’ tha I came teu hẽ ue nus.”

The Olues accent comes naturally to the Bairish woman’s lips, to Leah’s ears at least. Then again she’s already demonstrated great skill with languages, Leah thinks, amused. I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows it. I’d bet she knows more than she lets on about most things.

“Leah,” Solace begins, taking a step forward. Many thing happen all at once.

Adan draws the sword and stands; Sewheil makes a gesture and the light from the candles flares up into serpents; Seffon grabs a gem pendant on his wrist and a silvery shimmer appears around Solace’s head.

Solace’s hand flicks to the side and a swirling white candle falls from her sleeve. She snaps the fingers of her other hand over the wick, and a green flame appears. It flares up, her eyes flaring the same green momentarily, and she starts reciting something in a lilting, musical voice, just barely loud enough to hear. She raises her empty hand in a loose fist; waving it in a slow circle, timed to the words, she brushes away the silver around her head like a cloud of smoke. On the next line she draws her fingers down, pointing towards the candles, and the red flame serpents shrink to mere embers. She returns both hands to the candle, and her clothing seems to shimmer, then an illusion bleeds away revealing the same white and blue robes she wore during the escape. Silence takes over as she brings the poem to a close.

Adan stays standing with her sword, eyes fixed on the bard but visibly uncertain. Solace turns to look into the lieutenant’s face, cautious and appraising. With a wave of one hand and a quick whisper, Solace directs the sheath to fly up from under the table and cover the sword.

Everyone stays still, processing what just happened. Solace keeps her polite smile, but a bit of cheekiness reaches through around her eyes.

“You can never just do something the normal way; you always have to do it with flair,” Leah says once the casting has all come to an end, making an artistic flourish with her hands at the last word. She takes a few friendly steps towards Solace, the only person not immobilised from shock and worry after the past few seconds.

Solace mimics the flourish, and snuffs the candle as she does so. “Bard.”

Leah laughs and pulls Solace into a hug; Solace does not seem to expect it, but goes along with it gladly, giving a happy little hum into Leah’s shoulder and squeezing her with surprisingly strong arms.

Looking over Solace’s shoulder and through the cloud of curly hair, Leah can just see Seffon’s face watching her in confusion. She grins a bit at him, sheepishly, breaking off the hug. “Solace was the person who helped me escape the jail,” she explains, a hand still on the other woman’s shoulder. “And, vicariously, the person who made me decide to seek you out. But…” She turns back to Solace. “I didn’t actually expect to see you again, not so soon at least. What are you doing back here?”

Solace gives Leah’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and on Valerin. I was there this morning, when the news broke, and I came here as fast as I could to get you.”

Leah picks up on the tone. “What news? What’s happened?”

“Jeno has been sentenced to death, for tomorrow midday.”