The water is marvellously warm around her, the stone smooth below her, and the flickering of light past her eyelids is bright but not overpowering.

Oh fucking Hell, not this again.

Leah opens her eyes to the hot baths of Valerin, and Eschen sitting expectantly across from her.

“Well that’s something,” Leah spits, curling a lip at him. “Seffon was sure he’d broken the link.”

“He had,” Eschen says with a grin. “Quite impressive.”

“Equally impressive that you were able to re-establish that link from beyond the wards.”

“Why, thank you.” He nods his head in a bow.

Leah rolls her eyes and focuses on waking up.

*

She knocks gently on Seffon’s door, about an hour before midnight. It takes a few minutes before anyone opens it, but finally Seffon emerges, half-dressed, looking exhausted.

“Leah?” he asks, rubbing an eye.

“Eschen’s back,” she says, pointing at her skull.

Seffon sighs deeply, shoulders sinking, and leads her down the halls to the tower. He sets up the spell, splashes his face with cold water to wake up, and starts into the steps.

“Do you know how he could have redone it?” Leah asks quietly, as Seffon paints the lines back over her face.

“Unless the purpose of the invasion today was to get a caster within the wards…but then the person you saw would have been the caster, not Eschen.” Seffon frowns, deep in thought. The paintbrush point rests forgotten against Leah’s temple, its wielder following a tangent. Leah clears her throat, and he starts up again. “I don’t know. He certainly wasn’t here himself.”

“Great,” Leah says, chewing her lip, hands clenched. “So I’m just going to keep seeing him every night.”

“We’ll find something,” Seffon says reassuringly, though tinged with exhaustion. “Right. Second attempt.”

He begins the spell, and Leah sits still and silent, waiting out the uncomfortable feeling of something twitching under her skin along the lines he painted. It’s hard to tell, with exhaustion making everything feel drawn-out, but she thinks the spell takes longer this time.

“There; you should be able to get at least a few hours sleep. None of these spells are fast to set up.” Seffon rubs his face on his sleeve, then shoddily hides a yawn behind it. “Gods. This better not become a habit.”

“I’m sorry that – ”

“No no, not you. I’m happy to help. I’d just rather it not require such an exhausting counterspell, every night.”

Leah nods, still feeling a little guilty.

“If it helps, you can sleep here the night; the wards are strongest on the tower.” Seffon turns to go, and Leah gives a short snort-laugh. “Yes?” he asks, turning back to her.

“I’ve slept on this table before, and it’s not exactly comfortable.”

Seffon blinks, then laughs. “Leah, don’t take this wrong, but you’re an idiot sometimes.” He gestures to the stairs. “The third floor. There’s a couch, and a blanket.”

“Oh.” Leah grins sheepishly. “Right. Thanks.”

“Goodnight, Leah.”

“Goodnight.”

Seffon closes the door, and Leah ascends to the third floor library, collapsing onto the couch and pulling the knit wool blanket over her.

*

A knock on the door wakes her in the morning, sunlight streaming into the room vividly. Leah stretches and grins, relieved to have gone the night without any further visits.

Seffon enters with a tray of breakfast, and Leah sits up stiffly, rolling a kink out of her shoulder. “No news from the walls?”

“Nothing else during the night. Scouts are out looking for the surviving attackers.”

Leah sits a little straighter. “And the dead ones?”

“Their gear has been checked, their bodies disposed of. They were Cheden, though one had quite a nice Devadiss wood shield. It’s in the armoury, unclaimed as of yet, if you’re looking for a replacement.” Seffon hesitates. “That is, if you’re alright with taking a shield from a dead opponent.”

“Actually, I think that’s how I ended up with my original shield. Same day as I got the healing potion, in point of fact.” She takes one of the flatbread wraps, stuffed with fresh vegetables, and starts eating eagerly.

Seffon joins her, looking a little more tired than usual but not too drawn. “Hm. Lucky day.”

“Kain nearly died that day,” Leah says. Seffon winces a bit at that, and Leah hurries to correct herself. “I didn’t mean that it wasn’t a lucky day, although almost dying isn’t very lucky, it’s just that…that was another thing that happened that day. And the potion saved her, too.”

They eat in silence for a bit.

“I think they used evocative magic to collapse the bridges,” Leah says, after a few minutes of running over the memories of the siege. “What else could have been that strong?”

“All schools are equally strong, at the high levels. Evocative just happens to be destructive, usually.” Seffon puts aside the food to listen. “What did it look like, from up close?”

Leah shrugs. “Meredith was in one of the turrets when it happened the first time. She said the capstones turned to sand, and all the bridges just sort of fell apart.”

Seffon nods, eyes narrowed. “Transmutation.”

“Oh?”

“Transforming the stone that holds the whole arch together into loose sand, and letting gravity do the rest. Clever.”

“Pretty destructive.”

“Horrifically,” Seffon says, almost appreciatively. “Not as effective against walls, as the strain is more evenly distributed across the stones, but you can use it to bring down an archway or a buttress. Taking down two bridges that size, though, and simultaneously…he’s a powerful caster.”

Leah stares at the wrap, lost in the memories, the sound replaying in her head. “Those bridges were always crowded. If they had done that the first day – the execution, when nobody suspected Cheden yet – they could have collapsed the bridges with a hundred or more people on them.”

Seffon looks at her in some surprise. “That’s quite the dark idea.”

“I’m glad it didn’t happen, I’m just alarmed that it could have.”

“You’ve never really seen a powerful evocative spell in action – that’s a good thing, I’m not saying you should – but that sort of destruction is not out of the ordinary.”

“And only evocative magic is considered a war crime?”

“Yes.”

“Even though it can be used for useful things, like keeping medicines cold?”

Seffon raises an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

Leah shakes her head. “Yeah, maybe calling an entire school of magic taboo instead of saying certain uses are taboo is the problem here.”

He sighs at that, and sets his plate back down. “Magic users function under a code of honour. We know it’s absurd to say an entire school is taboo. We also know why it’s taboo, and why people are afraid of any magician who acts cavalier about their use of evocative magic. You walk a fine line, you try to have morals, and you don’t let on that you know things you shouldn’t or else those in charge will arrest you on the spot.”

Leah considers this. “How many of ‘those in charge’ are magic-users?”

Seffon shrugs, then thinks hard. “The Devadiss royal line isn’t, nor the Cheden imperial line. Some of the Bairish nobles are born-magic, I’m not sure of the ratio. Nent is, but they’re also much less centralised. Algi…I know of one pirate-lord who was learned-magic, but he died a few decades ago.”

“Umm, pirate-lord?” Leah asks with a grin. “What’s this about pirates? I thought Cheden wiped them all out?”

“‘Wipe out’ pirates? That’s not how piracy works,” Seffon chuckles. “It’s not a polite name for them, of course; they are a merchant militia, and very proud. Most ship-making in the Gulf happens in either Algi or Devad, but Algi specialises in smaller, lighter craft, which is what their pirate-lords use. It’s a mercenary navy, that serves mainly the economic sector. Strong national loyalty, though; they can’t be bribed, except by another Algic.”

“Wicked.”

“Hm?”

“I just love learning new stuff about this world. Especially about that places that are technically ‘home’ to me.”

“What about your home?”

“You mean – ” Leah points at her head.

“Yes, fake Leah’s home.”

Leah laughs and sets her plate down. “I don’t know any cool stories from home. What are you thinking of, government? Geography? Biology?”

“Your home.”

“My home’s a big place, Seffon, even if I say it’s only Quebec and not Canada – which is itself a highly political statement.”

“Why?”

Leah spreads her hands in a shrug, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

“Alright then, what about your life?”

“My life?”

Seffon nods and settles back in the chair, gesturing for her to take over. “You mentioned once that you learned a trade?”

“Oh, uh…” Leah nods, uncertainly. “I did. I spent two years in trade school doing culinary courses. Wanted to be a chef.”

She half-expects him to smile at this or dismiss it, but instead he leans in, interested. “Of what sort?”

“Uh…?”

He waves a hand. “Any style, any scale, any meal type, any…?”

Leah shifts a little in her chair. “I wanted to work at a restaurant, or a pub, or something. Not a tapas bar, those are cheesy, something else.”

“Tapas bar?”

“It’s…it’s piles of food on top of slices of bread, served with drinks. It’s a Spanish thing. I focused on Spanish cuisine, because I liked the spices and it seemed unique and fun, but all Spanish food in Quebec is just tapas.”

“And tapas is…cheese?”

Leah snorts a bit. “You’re not wrong, but…no, ‘cheesy’ is just an expression. Never mind.”

“And have you missed it, since you’ve been stuck here?”

“Tapas?”

“Cooking.”

Leah shifts a bit again, and Seffon’s forehead creases slightly, noticing it. “I guess at times, but there’s just so much other interesting stuff here.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

Leah shoots him a sarcastic look, then nods sheepishly. “Well, I mean, since I’ve been here I’ve met Barons and captains and Thanes and Dukes and doctors…I’ve met the cook in the Valerid estate two or three times, and she doesn’t seem like an indentured servant, nor do the servants here, but…”

“Oh Gods, Leah,” Seffon says with a startled but amused expression. “We don’t deal in indentured servants here. Our staff are hired from the region, and trained.”

“Oh good! That’s good to know.” She laughs a bit at her own foolishness, smiling. “Still, it feels a little odd, spending all my time with powerful or wealthy people, when I’m just…really good at making ajoblanco and can identify about two dozen different tomato varieties from memory.”

“I suppose that’s very Thane-ish of me not to have even noticed you felt that way?”

Leah grins and shrugs it off. “You’ve been thinking of me as Leah Talesh, at some level, and I’m sure she’s used to dealing with nobility and captains and such. Even if they would have treated her like dumb muscle.”

Seffon chuckles. “Now that I know this, I feel I should offer you use of the kitchens, or something. What is that thing you mentioned, in the odd accent?”

“Ajoblanco. It’s…unusual, but quite good. A cold soup, for lunches in hot summers. Almonds, bread, garlic, olive oil, and green grapes.” Seffon’s face is a mixture of curiosity and doubt. “As I said, unusual, and it takes some getting used to.”

He raises a hand in acquiescence. “I’ll believe you, if you say it is your specialty.”

“Actually, if we’re talking food, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Oh?”

“What’s the dairy base of those creamy drinks?” Leah asks.

Seffon smiles broadly and laughs. “Ah yes. It’s a controlled curdling process, we use it to preserve dairy in hot weather.”

“What kind of dairy?”

“Goat.”

“Ahh.” Leah nods, getting a bit better idea of the flavours. “Why haven’t I seen any of the goats?”

Seffon gestures with his head. “They’re at a farm to the south. We don’t keep any here because they tend to get territorial with the pheasants.”

Leah laughs. “Seriously?”

“Mm. The male pheasants will spread their tails in a display, and the goats go into a frenzy and try to ram them.”

“That’s adorable, I love it.”

Seffon chuckles a bit at her expression. “You’re in a much better mood after a proper night’s rest.”

“Well, those dreams were…” Leah nods to herself. “I’m glad not to be having them again.”

Seffon has gone very still, watching her. “What did you say the spell name was, again? I ought to try and find it, if we’ve got it in a book somewhere. I don’t like that he was able to remake the connection from across the wards.”

“Azzi-something, four words long,” she says, and Seffon gets up to look over the books on the shelves nearby. “But if he’s born-magic, won’t it likely be…not written down anywhere?”

“The process won’t be written down, since it wouldn’t exist, but even born-magic falls into certain patterns,” Seffon says distractedly. “A spell to trap a mind so the caster can sift through memories…”

“And the wards…they can only sort-of protect against it?”

Seffon turns, a sombre look on his face. “Leah, this is a man who can bring down two bridges with his mind, without having to be physically near either of them. Someone who can keep a person enchanted for two weeks straight without raising suspicion. He is a much stronger caster than I’d originally thought.”

Stronger than you? Leah thinks, but does not ask.

“But the wards are solid.” He goes back to looking through the shelves. “He may be a deft hand in a variety of schools, but I am a master of mine, if it’s not too arrogant to say.”

“It kinda is,” Leah says quietly, with a cheeky grin. Seffon looks back and matches it.

“So if this spell is an enchantment – which it quite clearly is – he is an idiot to be trying it on you when you’re around me. The wards will hold no matter what he tries.”

Famous last words, Leah thinks, again biting back from saying it aloud.

“I’ll leave you to your research, then,” Leah says, getting up and rubbing the wound in her side. “I think this has finished healing, more or less. I might go find Adan, to practice. Unless you needed me for anything?”

“Adan!” Seffon says, slapping his forehead.

“Adan? What about her? Is something wrong?”

He spins around to Leah. “We still haven’t asked her about the night your mind transferred here.”

*

They find her in a small office in the guard barracks, to the east of the keep’s core. It’s a dark room with ledgers on one wall and an oil lamp on a small square desk, but the sloped ceiling has a skylight of small glass panels, casting a grid-shadow on the floor.

Oh wow, this is a big film noir mood, Leah thinks, looking around with appreciative eyes. Feels like there should be a handsome detective or a femme fatale lingering in a dark corner. A faint warmth rises in her face, and she can’t quite pinpoint why. She smothers it and pays attention to the conversation at hand.

Seffon explains the situation in Olues, with Leah listening and trying to follow as best she can – easier to do since she knows the story already. He asks about the night before the fives’ rescue, and Adan leans her elbows against her desk, fingers tapping over her lips. Finally she speaks, with an uncertain tone but never hesitating over her words. Seffon listens with interest, and at one point raises a hand to stop her.

“Ta’ en hẽ sly?”

Adan nods. “En Volsty, I remembẽnau d fõs, b – ”

“B sy defenely spo?”

“Jes?”

Seffon nods and gestures that she continue. She does, finishing not long after. Seffon muses for a while longer, then nods and makes as though to stand.

Leah reaches out a hand and catches him. “And my memory?”

“Hm?”

“Did you mention my memories being…gone?”

“Oh!” He turns back to Adan. “Uon of th si-effes of th spell uas teu erase Ley’s memorys. They ã unliely teu return, so sy uou lie teu by train’. Ƃau teu fi, ʁau teu defen, everytheng. From th begenneng.”

Adan looks Leah over in surprise. “Everyteng es gaun?”

Leah shrugs and nods. “Everything.”

This seems to shake Adan a little bit, and it takes her a while to adjust. “I am recovẽ’, I cou stã today, ef sy es ready.”

Seffon turns to Leah. “Are you?”

“Ready to start learning how to fight?” Leah asks, and Seffon nods. She turns to Adan and nods, with a slight smile. “If we start gently, yes. And don’t thwack me so hard, not on the torso, just to be safe.”

Seffon translates this, and Adan receives it in good humour.

“En d afterneun,” she says, and Leah agrees. “D juzual place.”

Leah leaves with Seffon, feeling positive, although also a little hesitant. For all I know I’m not fully healed yet, and this is a very irresponsible thing to do.

“So what did you ask her about?” Leah asks, as they continue their walk, not entirely sure where they’re bound but happy for the company.

“Hm?”

“You interrupted her at one point to ask something, about Volsti I think?”

“Right, yes. She said you talked in your sleep.”

“Did I?” Leah asks with a grin. The connotations suddenly hit her and she falters. “Wait, did I?”

“In the middle of the night, almost five hours before the rescue. You said something in Volsti that she couldn’t recognise, then didn’t talk again.”

Leah thinks this over. “So I must have been no longer unconscious by that point.”

“More to the point,” Seffon says, slowing to a halt, “Our last test said you’d arrived here slowly, over the course of a few hours.”

“So?” Leah stops beside him.

“So had you just finished arriving in our world, or just started arriving?”

“Why’s that important?”

“Because it might tell us who spoke.”

Leah hesitates. “Could it have been the old Leah? I thought she left when this body was unconscious.”

“So we have been assuming, but there’s no reason why it should be one way or the other.” Seffon shrugs and smoothes back his hair. “For now I’ll focus on figuring out what sort of spell Eschen is trying. You go get ready for your lessons.”

“Right,” Leah says, shaking out her arms. “Time to get my ass kicked.”

“Hopefully not.”

“Pfft, inevitably.”

*

The lesson is much gentler than what Adan had been putting her through up to now – whether because of the injury or because of the missing memories, Leah isn’t sure, but she’s glad enough either way.

They start with a spear and shield, going from the basics up: grip, balance, stance, posture, and how to keep those things in mind while also stabbing and blocking. The pace is slow and easy, and even with the language rift Leah feels like she is keeping up and making progress.

The people training at the other end of the courtyard do not look at them, and Leah ignores them right back, worried that if she pays too much attention she might see the slinger, or someone else with a grudge against her. I’m surprised I haven’t met others yet. Seffon said he was keeping them away from me, but I’m not clear how literally he meant that; is he just scheduling them specific hours that keep them out of my path, or has he actually told these people not to talk to me? And if the latter, how or why did the slinger get through?

“Da’s enough,” Adan finally declares, two hours in to a comparatively mild practice session. “Tomorro?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” Leah says, putting aside the spear and flexing her fingers, trying to get them out of the grip they’d been in the past two hours almost unbroken.

“I as’ Zon fõ hel fe des,” Adan says, and Leah turns back, curious. The lieutenant seems to be focusing very hard on her words. “You were very foolish, but brave.”

Leah’s eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

“De I say e rie?” Adan asks. She mimes a figure running over ground with her hands, then pulling someone away. “Zureng d fi. Ju fẽ feules, b brave.”

Leah nods, understanding. “Right. Right! Uh, yes I was, I guess. I was foolish. But you were hurt.”

Adan looks like she is struggling to understand, but when Leah mimes the stab she catches on. “I ha mi tym teu ky my safe. Ju dednau ny teu – ” Here she trails off, shrugging and turning to put the practice gear away.

Leah waits for more, but it does not seem to be coming. She reaches out to shake Adan’s hand, and the other woman takes it after a moment’s confused hesitation. “Tomorrow.”

“Jes. Tomorro.”