Aisha knew the man all the Cynizia were looking at. Humberto had been a thug all his life, working ship bets in Puerto Faro. He had been the one who had placed Lucius’ bet that her brother had survived. Under the pressure of his employer, he had escaped to join the Cynizia, and had been entrusted to journey on ahead to Puerto Vida.

A face like broken pottery put back together, that could never smile quite right and yet he tried. It was slack jawed, staring out across the sea, watching the ships come and go from the harbor. No body supported it beneath the neck. It sat upon a spike above the main road.

“Why haven’t they taken that down? The Vassish have already left,” she asked.

Her brother didn’t take his gaze from it. He was cracking hazelnuts between his molars, spitting the shells back into his hand to pick at the meat. “Because it’s good for us,” he said.

She turned on him. “How?” The Cynizia had waned after the loss at the silver mine. Without the proper fight and the death of so many regardless, desertion had begun to afflict their ranks. Less than two hundred arrived at Puerto Vida, expecting a raucous welcome and reinforcements. All they got was quiet stares.

“Because those that join us now will be true fighters,” he said, and left her beneath the decapitated head of his friend.

The city managed to get on with life, but she thought it was perhaps a bit quieter than it should have been. People kept their heads down too much, or walked too quickly. They barely wanted to answer her trivial questions as she sought out the Medini Family store. What she found had not been plundered, but would be of fleeting use regardless. The Medini’s had entered into a co-ownership contract with another merchant group, both making use of the same storefront one block from the main road. The main business of the establishment was the coordination of ships back to Puerto Faro, and a mere token amount of goods to be bought and sold. Some jewelry, some spice samples, nothing a war effort needed.

When she left the store, shoulder’s heavy and eyes downcast, two of the city guard stopped her. The younger of the two had a broader stature, and a white cape pinned to his brass chest piece. He asked, “Are you Aisha Canta-ima?”

She frowned and put a hand to her hip. “I wasn’t aware anyone here knew me.”

“The lady Bishop Jean di Jumeaux had requested your presence.”

Aisha had been to Jumeaux once with her father. She knew who the bishop was. It wasn’t until her assigned manservant arrived that she let the tension in her relax though. Nikolai Tolzi had joined her for the time being. He nearly begged me to let him stay and take on the duty. Aisha recognized him from our fleeting night in Puerto Faro, and let him fall in behind her upon stepping through the doors of the White Halls. They were led to a small waiting room that overlooked the inner courtyard, and the white caped guard asked them to wait a moment, before leaving them there.

Aisha dropped onto the sofa, a hard thing with not half as much cushion as it appeared to have, and picked at the dry cookies set upon the table for them. “So the robed guy is here too?” she asked, and broke off one of the treats. A very underwhelming description of me.

“No,” Nikolai said, and studied the door. Certain the guard wouldn’t return so soon, he walked over and got himself a cookie as well. “Amurabi has already gone ahead to Rackvidd.”

“Confident, isn’t he.” She leaned on the arm of the sofa, pulling herself away from the sunlight and to the welcoming shade.

Nikolai returned to his post at the door. “The towns between here and there do not matter much. It will be competing marches, and the final confrontation will be in the Ash Fall Mountains. He can do more from Rackvidd than from here.”

“So you mean to drag it out to the very last.”

Nikolai nodded, but did not speak. A few stifling minutes passed, and a knock finally arrived. Without announcement, the door was then opened by one of the acolytes, and the Bishop entered. She had elected to change into a black dress to note the previous night’s blood shed, but without a veil it simply drew the eye to her more. “You must be the Canta girl.”

Aisha rose and gave a feminine bow. “Aisha Canta, yes. You must be Bishop Jean di Jumeaux.”

“Please, just Jean is fine. Is Amurabi not with you?”

Aisha grimaced and glanced at Nikolai. When he gave her a short nod, she answered, “No, I’m afraid he is not.”

The amiable smile vanished from Jean’s face and she abruptly sat down. “So you’re merely here to play both sides?”

Aisha pressed her lips into a flat line. “I’m on my own side, which coincides with Amurabi’s. I’m simply a greedy girl.”

“Greedy for your idiot brother? He’s no better than the locust swarms.”

Aisha glanced at Nikolai. The skaldish man had little insight for her, but his eyebrow had arched as he listened to her. The difference in attitude between the previous day and then was quite stark. “I think a better analogy would be a spark of fire. The spark doesn’t do much if there isn’t already deadfall and kindling to catch.”

Jean frowned and picked up one of the cookies. She broke it off and chewed it. Only after she swallowed, did she admit, “I suppose you might be right. Even if he wins and drives out all the Vassish, never to be seen again, he won’t have gained anything. Won’t have gotten fat from the spoils. Nobody is going to make him king. He’ll have changed nothing at all, except inviting the Aillesterrans back.”

“Jean, may I inquire why you summoned me here?”

“Because you’re playing both sides, like I said. And because you’re greedy,” Jean answered.

“I just said-”

“I need someone who knows these Cynizia to help me poach some,” Jean said, speaking right over Aisha. “Plenty are fine fighters, but are wasted upon Medorosa. I wish to bring them into a higher calling. My calling.”

“For your expedition south?”

“Precisely. I need fighters for when the cannibals get irritated with me. While I could deal with one or two on my own, that would simply be imprudent. I’m paying good coin and we might be able to save hundreds of lost souls… eventually anyways.”

“I can’t imagine anyone would stop you from making an appeal to hire the men following my brother.”

“Not me,” Jean said, her smile renewed. “I’d like you to make the appeal. You’re the one they know. If you can peel off enough of his support, this little insurrection will fizzle out of its own accord.”

Jean didn’t require an answer from her, nor a commitment like I had. In fact, after a few more pleasantries and an offer to give her a room for the night in the White Halls, Aisha was soon shown the door. The bishop had a number of official duties to see to, by means of letter back up the Vida River to Jumeaux. The offer lingered with her all evening. It sat inside her mind and grew stronger as she waited in the Blue Rock Tavern that the Cynizia had occupied.

The proprietor was an awful man, and his wife never showed her face. No matter where she sat, she could hear the arguments from his teenaged sons about whether they could join the Cynizia. The place stank more of sweat than of pepper-leaf, and the food looked too burned to be eaten.

When Almir sat down across from her, she jumped a little. “No singing tonight, Aisha-ima?”

“Humberto’s face is haunting me a bit,” she said, and her smile looked more like a wince. “I know I should put on a smile for everyone, but I don’t think I can. Not tonight. It’s been a long journey already.”

Almir crossed his arms and frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you at all, Aisha-ima. Normally, it is your songs that lift everyone else’s spirits. The men here, they looked at the corpses two nights past, and they saw their own faces looking back at them. Now? We came to what should have been a stronghold, and find it already pierced by the Vassish. Rather than ahead of them, we are chasing after their trail once more, except now we are even further from home. Even if we turn back now, it’s a long way back to Tavina.”

Aisha looked up at him and her shoulders wilted. “You don’t have to. It’s not one or the other.”

“What do you mean? We fight or we retreat. What else is there?”

“Join the bishop. She needs fighters to protect her in the southern lands. It’s good and honorable, and-”

Almir burst out laughing. “You expect us to go back to that god forsaken land? That’s the whole reason we we turned our swords against the Vassish! Aisha-ima, I don’t think you understand just how hostile that land is. Centuries ago, there used to be cities there. It used to be prosperous. Those demon worshippers destroyed it all. Not even grass remains.”

“That’s what Bishop Jean wants to change!”

The door to the tavern flew open. Dozens of men grabbed for their swords before a cry of “Medorosa!” went up. Her brother marched in among everyone.

He held up a hand and the room quieted. Once the door was shut again, he turned in a circle to grin at all the Cynizia gathered. “I have good news!”

Aisha felt the change in fate grip her by the soul, before the words even left her brother’s lips.

“That bastard Solhart may have dealt us a blow here, but he was a little too hasty. He marched his men onwards the moment he had been bribed off with food. West, always going west. He wants to get to his lord, Von Raymi, as fast as possible and hide behind that betrayer’s army. We’ll have to deal with them too, of course, eventually. But, from what I learned today, we don’t have to concern ourselves with Solhart making it to him.”

The Cynizia glanced at once another and rumors began to mumble from one mouth to the next ear. Someone eventually raised his voice and brazenly asked, “Did he get lost or something?”

Medorosa grinned even more, scanning his eyes for the man who had asked. “Or something indeed. He thought he would be crafty and use the north road instead of the coast road. Thought it might throw us off his trail. I guess he didn’t realize the north road was buried by a landslide last year! It’s impossible to bring a cart through there. You can barely walk across it. He’s marching his men right into a death trap if we just catch up with him!”

The tavern erupted. Men threw their fists into the air, ale sloshed, and Medorosa couldn’t be heard for minutes. He stood there, hand up and waiting. When it died down, he continued, “I have already sent riders to every town between here and Rackvidd. The Vassish are even more hated here than they were in Puerto Faro, a discontent they held at arm’s length while they sailed past. The people of the mountains have not forgotten that Rackvidd was theirs not so long ago. And they want it back.”

Almir rose from the table and stepped forward, entering the ring of attention Medorosa had built around himself. “Are we to deal with Solhart first, or Rackvidd?”

Medorosa paced the room. “Almir, I’m glad you asked. Both. The answer is both. Most of you here will continue after Solhart and crush him. I, and a small host, will rally the men of the mountains and march on Rackvidd. I’ll need someone else to take command while I’m away. Then, we’ll be able to line the walls of Rackvidd with the heads of Solhart and his men.”

“Brother!” Aisha shouted and pushed past Almir. “What demon has possessed you that you think you can do this?”

Medorosa’s smile vanished. He stepped close and dropped his voice. “Sister, now is not the time.”

She shoved him in the chest. “You and your frenzy, this is exactly the time! When else would I stop you from getting everyone slaughtered! If you try to take Rackvidd, you’ll bring their whole army back to burn you alive.”

Her brother snarled. “Then we will fight them too! When we prove that we are a force to be reckoned with, others will come to support us. We won’t be beholden to the whims of foreigners any longer. If they want the ley stone, they’ll have to buy it from us, not march in and take it!”

“If you have eyes set on the wastelands, then shouldn’t you be working with the bishop? She’s trying to reclaim the land and could use your help,” Aisha said

Something cold struck her in the side of the neck, no thicker than a necklace, but it wrapped around and locked in place. The loop of iron jerked her down, ripping her by the throat like a leash. She cried out in pain and fell hard, hitting the ground with her hip as she grabbed at the loop of metal that had fastened around her throat.

Medorosa’s anger came out in a cool simmer. His eyes rose to someone behind Aisha. “What do you think you’re doing?”

A man she didn’t recognize held the other end of the iron rod that had been bent around her throat, somewhat like a cane, but with no gap for her throat to escape. The man himself was older, blind in one eye, and wore a jack-plate coat as though the Giordanan heat couldn’t even touch him. With his curly hair done up in two enormous plumes rising from either side of his head, he looked like a devil holding onto her leash. “Just shutting up an annoying bitch. Who wants to hear that kind of barking at a time like this?” he said.

“She’s my sister.”

“Oh?” The man whistled and grinned. “I figured this wasn’t a place to bring family. My apologies, dear leader,” he said, and did something to the metal. He gave it a flick, a shake that sent a ripple through it. Like he had turned it into rope, the rod flicked free of her throat and he snapped it back up to loop around his hand. He grinned and slipped it into a deep pocket in his coat.

“You should show better prudence in the future,” Medorosa said.

“Decisiveness is why you brought me aboard, isn’t it?”

Aisha rubbed her throat. “Brother, who is this?”

Medorosa shook his head and held up a hand to point at the newcomer. “Men, meet Dhib, the pirate hunter. He’ll be replacing me for the attack on Solhart.”

Almir scowled. “You would bring in someone new to lead us? Just because he’s a bit famous?”

Medorosa’s hand clapped onto Almir’s shoulder. “No! No, of course not. Almir, my friend, you’ll be leading them. Dhib is your asset. Use him well.”

Dhib gave the stunned man a bow, and grinned at Aisha.

As soon as she could, she fled the tavern.