Mei and her brother left the garrison commander's office and followed Marcus onto a training ground on the west side of the fort, where dozens of soldiers were dueling with wooden swords while instructors shouted out commands from the sidelines and white uniformed nurses passed around water and bandages. Growling, Huan stalked forward, his hand drifting to the blue scarf that hid Tiger's mask, but Mei moved in front of him, her hand on her knife. Her brother bristled. She narrowed her eyes. Huan showed teeth. Mei raised her chin and braced herself. If this kept going...

"Hey, Nathan, remember these two?" Oblivious to the battle between the siblings, Marcus walked up to a boy in leather armor who was sitting on a bench.

The boy looked up from polishing a breastplate. "Yes, sir, I do." He scoffed. "They're hard to forget."

The beast faded and Huan returned, swaying from the transition.

Taking her hand away from her knife, Mei tried to place Nathan in her memory, but brown hair, freckles, and lightly tanned skin were very common among Sourans. "Who are you?"

The boy scowled. "What? Do all Sourans look the same to you?" He put the breastplate down, stood up, and puffed out his chest like a zigcat trying to make itself look bigger.

Huan smirked. "Maybe. It's not like you made much of an impression."

The boy marched forward. "Damn sl-"

"Nathan!" Marcus's hand landed on the boy's shoulder. "We're not here to learn to fight each other. We're here to learn to fight the enemy."

Nathan stepped back and crossed his arms. "Yes, sir."

Huan threw a showy salute. "Yes, sir!"

When Nathan's scowl returned, Mei wondered if his face would get stuck like that.

The corners of Marcus's mouth twitched. "I should reintroduce you then. This is Nathan Rutters. He was my squire until..." Marcus waved his stump of a left arm. "He's been training here since."Mei looked down at her hands. "Sorry about your arm."

"I'm not sorry." Marcus walked over to a box of wooden weapons and pulled out a sword. "Losing it to dragon flame while saving young people like yourselves is not only a good story, it's a heroic one! I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Huan, I'm sure you've learned a thing or two since we last saw you. Let's see what you've got."

He tossed a sword at Huan, but Mei caught it, earning a barely audible growl from her brother. "Me first." She placed her hand on her knife.

Huan's head jerked back. "Sure, yeah." He stretched. "I'm tired anyway. I had to carry a whole bunch of our luggage."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Fine, we'll see what you can do tomorrow. You're not tired, Mei?"

Mei shook her head.

"Okay then. With that kind of forethought and initiative, you're definitely scout material. It's too bad you're already under contract or else I'd recruit you into the army."

"It would be just another fucking trap," muttered Huan under his breath.

Mei drew close to her brother, whose nostrils were flared and whose eyes were locked on Nathan. She patted him on the back and watched the rage drain from his eyes.

"I'm waiting." Nathan pulled a sword out of the box and stepped into the ring.

"Go." Huan took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

Tightening her grip on the sword, Mei stepped into the ring.

Nathan shook his head. "Sending your little sister to fight. That's low. It's not like she'll be a challenge."

A low dangerous growl rumbled from the edge of the ring.

Her stomach clenched, Mei swung the sword a couple of times. At about one and a half times the weight of her rifle, it felt like trying to wield a tree trunk.

On the other side of the ring, Nathan dropped into a stance, his left foot forward, his sword held high. It was a confident stance, and he had the muscles to back it up. He smirked. "Any rules, sir?"

"For now, no blows above the shoulder and none to the groin," answered Marcus. "We'll cover dirty fighting later. I'll stop you before you really hurt yourselves."

"Yes, sir." Nathan flourished his sword.

Mei took a basic stance, her right foot forward, the sword held just in front of her, pointed at the sky.

Nathan's smirk deepened. "This is going to be easy."

"Fuck. You." Huan wrenched the sword out of Mei's hand and pushed her out of the ring.

Nathan laughed. "Finally. Let's do this-"

Huan attacked, swinging his sword down as hard as he could, but the Souran boy's sword parried the blow, and he pushed Huan aside.

Mei tried to get back into the ring, but Marcus's arm blocked her.

"No," he said. "They should fight this out. I'll stop them before it gets dangerous."

Dropping her hand to her knife, Mei watched Huan fight, itching to get back into the ring.

Nathan let Huan take a couple more wild swings then shoulder tackled him, knocking him back. Huan reeled, recovered his bearings, and then charged again.

"Really?" Nathan sidestepped the attack, tripped up Huan, and brought his sword down.

Huan rolled out of the way of Nathan's attack, flipped to his feet, and elbowed him in the gut.

Mei's fingernails dug into her palm as she gripped her knife harder. That wasn't Huan. That was Tiger.

"Wow," said Sir Marcus.

Nathan shoved Huan away before Huan could follow up and staggered towards the edge of the ring. He coughed and hacked, a loud theatrical sound that Mei frowned at. Huan, triumphant and grinning, waded in.

Mei's eyes widened. "He's faking it."

Still bent over, Nathan changed his grip on his sword, keeping his eyes on Huan the whole time.

"Got you good, huh?" Huan raised his sword.

Mei strained against Marcus's arm. "Huan!"

Two steps before Huan was in range, Nathan brought the point of his sword up and thrust it into Huan's chest, knocking him onto his backside. After straightening up, Nathan knocked Huan's weapon away and placed his sword point right underneath Huan's chin. "Yield."

Where Huan was breathing hard and sweating harder, Nathan's brow was dry and his breath controlled, no sign of the coughing fit he'd had earlier. He'd won the bout.

Mei caught the look in her brother's eyes. "Nathan, run!"

Her breath caught when the brown haired boy turned to her, a smirk back on his face. "Why would I- ah!"

Huan grabbed Nathan's sword, pulled the Souran boy to the ground, then flipped to his feet, his expression hungry.

Nathan tried to get away. "What are you doing? I won. I won!"

"Stand down, Huan." Marcus stepped into the ring.

Huan's face twisted in rage and his eyes gleamed gold. "Fuck you all!" He drew the sword he'd stolen in Yumma, its blade flashing in the sun.

Drawing her knife, Mei pushed past Marcus and knocked the blade away, but Huan brought the sword around and down hard, forcing Mei to block with her knife. With a chuff, Huan leaned in, trying to use his weight to overpower her and break her block. Gritting her teeth, Mei stepped in, got underneath Huan, and threw him over her shoulder right into the box of wooden weaponry.

Before her brother could recover, Marcus had drawn his sword and placed it at Huan's throat. Huan froze.

Marcus looked Huan over, his sword dead still. "What, by the cups, are you?"

Mei raised her knife, ready to throw it if Huan attacked Marcus. Behind her brother's gold tinged eyes, the beast glared, but, although it wasn't afraid of a one armed man, it knew that Mei's knife would fly true. The gold faded from Huan's eyes, leaving her brother wheezing.

Huan raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I have... anger issues. I've been working on them, but they make for a bad soldier, right?"

Marcus's sword stayed at Huan's throat. "Why shouldn't I kill you now? That's what Mei, your own sister, was prepared to do."

Her heart dropping into her stomach, Mei sheathed her knife and stepped over to Marcus. "It's okay now."

Nathan stood up, rubbing his throat. "Cups, no, it's not. Sir, he just tried to kill me!"

Marcus's shoulders rose. "I know."

"Sir, I-"

"Quiet." Marcus sheathed his sword, the motion awkward without another hand to steady the scabbard. Mei finally released her knife handle.

Getting to his feet, Huan kept his head bowed. "It's just anger issues. That's all." He didn't look Mei in the eyes.

"I can't have that happening around civilians, particularly Bart." Marcus rubbed his chin. "I suggest you examine where all that rage comes from and sort it out."

"Yes, sir." Huan now wore a sheepish expression on his face, but a growl had crept back into his voice. "I'll do that."

"Tonight you'll be bunking here in the barracks," said Marcus, "so I can keep an eye on you. Mei, if you want you can stay up at the estate, you can."

Mei saw her brother's hands curl into fists. "No, I'm fine. I'll stay here too."

"But you'll be alo-, actually I know just the roommate. We might as well get started on that squad. She's the best there is."

Nathan groaned. "No, sir. Please, no."

Marcus patted Mei on the shoulder. "She's the best fighter I've seen in years. I think you two will get along famously."

"But, sir!"

"Nathan, take these two to our unit quarters. I'll go and get your roommate, Mei. Excuse me." Marcus walked off, whistling as he went.

Nathan glared at Mei and Huan. "I cannot believe you two have created even more work for me." When they both stayed quiet, he scoffed. "Come on then. This way." He led them towards the back of the base, which lay against the massive pyramid.

Huan let Nathan get a few steps ahead before following, lowering his voice. "Sorry about that. I just... I know you're just better than him and he was insulting you."

Mei kept walking, a mixture of nausea and tension keeping her silent.

Her brother shook his head. "Anyway, this whole situation is ridiculous. I'm going to get us out of this damn contract as soon as possible and then find some place where we can be ourselves, you know?"

Mei tensed as she tried to parse the question but couldn't come up with any reply other than, "Okay."

***

"Here you are, my lady."

Galkin opened the door to a sight that made Magdala gasp: a bed with a mattress made of feathers dressed with clean sheets.

When the steward turned to her, she coughed. "That... will do. You mentioned a bath?"

Galkin bowed. "It shall be prepared forthwith, my lady."

His careful pronunciation of "my lady" pricked Magdala's ears, but she ignored it. "Thank you. Have my things brought up here as soon as possible."

"As you wish." Galkin bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

When she was sure that he was out of earshot, Magdala removed her traveling cloak, ran up to the bed, and jumped on it. She lay there face down and let her body soak in the softness and warmth of a real bed. Ever since joining her lord uncle and his Wesen apprentice, her sleeping situation had gotten steadily worse, going from straw bedding in Anders to sleeping on the dusty ground next to donkey leavings. Every night she'd struggled to fall asleep while her lord uncle snored, and every morning she'd wake up to the impossibly cheerful faces of Mei and Dwayne. How those two had pulled it off, Magdala would never know.

Frowning, she turned over and looked up at the ceiling, cataloging every thing she knew about Mei and Dwayne, her friend and her lord uncle's apprentice. Mei and her brother were caught up in a conspiracy involving spies, stolen masks, and secret weapons. Even after talking to an actual ShengXiao guard, she couldn't believe that mild mannered Mei was at the center of so much controversy. That Dwayne was controversial too didn't surprise her at all. Once a slave and now apprentice to the Guardian of the Wall, Dwayne was fascinated by magic and its potential, despite his past. She'd seen the deep scars on his back once, but when he noticed her looking, he'd quickly put his shirt back on, apologizing for subjecting her to the sight. She'd never felt so guilty.

Unsettled, Magdala rolled off the bed and paced the room. In the corner stood a old pine wooden desk that was covered in curly leaf carvings, a rarity in modern furniture. To the left of it was a pine bookshelf laden with books and adorned with more modern carvings of sea waves. Finally, completing the furniture set was a pine chair, which had no decorations at all. The fact that the furniture didn't match fit Magdala's impression of her lord uncle, who couldn't arrange an expedition without his apprentice's assistance. No wonder the steward had had to reach to accommodate his guests. She moved to the window, which overlooked the courtyard where Galkin was directing the unloading of their luggage, a job that usually fell to Dwayne. Were he and her lord uncle still holed up in his study?

The word "study" made her groan, and she returned to the bookshelf and inspected its contents. All of the texts were old editions, but since the Magisterium hadn't changed its curriculum since before Magdala's mother had attended, they'd serve.

"'Come up with a lesson plan', he says." Magdala opened the last book she could remember reading in class and sat down at the desk. She reached for a pen and found none. "Really?" Magdala opened the drawers in the desk and found them empty. She gave up. "I'll call that steward."

Someone knocked on the door, and Magdala jumped, nearly falling out of her chair. After taking a breath to calm herself, Magdala went to the door and opened it, ready to tell the person off. Instead, she stared.

A striking figure, a full head taller than Magdala and dressed in the mottled rust red and golden brown armor of the Southern Line garrison, filled her doorway. For her part, the soldier, whom they had met down at the garrison, stood ramrod straight, her wide dark brown eyes taking in Magdala's wild red hair, sweat drenched shirt, and dirty fingernails.

Catching sight of the soldier's rank, Magdala finally found words and, like she'd seen her mother do, stood up straight, raised her chin, and demanded respect. "Yes, what is it, Corporal?"

The corporal affixed her eyes on a point just above Magdala's head. "Um, ma'am, I was wondering where Lord Bartholomew Kalan was, ma'am." She gave a brief, unsure salute.

Magdala had to fight down the laughter bubbling up and just managed to say, "My lord uncle is busy at the moment. Can I help you?"

"My message is for Lord Kalan directly, sir, I mean, ma'am." Sweat broke out on the corporal's brow.

Magdala shrugged. "I don't know how long he'll be working with Dwayne. Do you want to wait for him here?" She opened her door wider by way of invitation.

The corporal shrank away. "N-no, ma'am."

Magdala frowned. This was getting silly. "Why not? I won't bite."

The corporal's face grew red. "It's not my place, ma'am."

Sighing, Magdala stepped through the door and past the corporal. "Come with me then. We'll wait in the foyer."

"Yes, ma'am!" The corporal turned to follow Magdala as she retraced her steps back to the entrance of the manor.

"Did Galkin send you up to me?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Magdala groaned. "Please stop doing that. It's unbecoming. I am not your commander."

"Your father is Lord Commander, ma'am. I don't want to show any disrespect, ma'am!"

Magdala stopped and turned to the corporal, taking in the soldier's sunkissed face, her provincial accent, and the short brown hair hidden under her helmet. "You haven't met very many nobles before, have you?"

The corporal shook her head.

Magdala nodded. It made sense. "If you don't know a noble's title, use 'milord' or 'milady.' If they insist on you using their title, use that instead. Ma'am and such is just for soldiers. I'm not one." No matter how much she wished to be.

The corporal aborted a salute. "Yes, ma... milady."

"Better." Magdala turned around and resumed retracing her steps. "What's your name?"

"Corporal Saundra Taylor, milady!"

At that, Magdala smiled. "I'm Lady Magdala Gallus."

"Yes, milady. We all know. The commander said."

Magdala had no idea what to think of that. "Ah, okay."

They finally reached the foyer, walking onto the second floor balcony that overlooked the main entrance hall. Below them, Galkin gave orders to the bustling staff.

"Galkin," Magdala called down. "Do you know where my lord uncle is?"

The steward gave one last order and looked up. "My lady." He bowed. "I see our guest has found you. Corporal Taylor, do you need anything before you return to your garrison?"

Magdala waved away the question. "The corporal will be staying here a bit longer. Where is my lord uncle?"

Galkin tapped a maid carrying a vase on her shoulder and directed her to the other side of the foyer. "I believe he is still in his study. According to my predecessor, the lords of this estate tend to spend a lot of time there." He gestured to a set of golden doors to Magdala's left, the same ones she'd noticed when she'd arrived.

"Thank you," said Magdala. "Carry on."

"A moment, my lady," said Galkin. "What temperature do you want your bath at?"

Hot water, soap, and a real tub cried their siren call in Magdala's mind, but she brought herself out of it and cleared her throat. "As high as reasonably possible, please." She then led the way around the balcony to the study.

"You're going to have a bath?" asked Taylor.

Magdala nodded. "We've been traveling nonstop since Yumma. I'm going take the longest bath and then sleep till next year."

"You've been to Yumma? What's that like? Ah, milady."

Magdala thought back to the ruins, to the strange things that they'd seen and done. "I... well... It was definitely worth the trip." She opened the golden doors and saw a world filled with sofas, carpet, and most importantly books. She squealed and rushed in.

Taylor entered the study in a more restrained fashion. "That's a lot of books."

Magdala was already pulling down the more interesting and, as it turns out, rare texts. "I've never seen so many in one place before." She found a blank spot and frowned. "Oh, someone beat me here." Her ears finally processed what Taylor had said. "What? How?"

The corporal looked down at her boots. "Ah... where I'm from... We don't have that many books, milady."

Magdala grimaced. "You can read, right?"

Taylor looked up, her lips curled. "Yes, I can read. I am so sick and tired of you noble types always assuming that because I grew up wrestling pigs and sowing fields that I can't read. My mom made damn sure that..." Taylor flushed, her eyes dropping to her boots. "Sorry, milady."

Magdala smiled. "No need to apologize. I just... I don't get a chance to meet many people like you."

Taylor's blush deepened and her eyes returned to her boots. "Yeah, you wouldn't, milady." She coughed and looked around the study. "Where's Lord Kalan?"

Magdala shrugged. "I have no idea, but this is exactly the kind of place I'd expect him to die in if he could help it. Let's wait for him here. I'm sure Galkin will send him our way if he sees him first." She sat down on one of the sofas, reveling in the second softest thing she'd sat on since arriving at Walcrest.

Stiffly as if iron bars had been welded to the back of her armor, Taylor sat down on the other sofa across from Magdala.

After crossing her ankles, Magdala placed the books she'd found on her lap. "So, why did you join the army? What's it been like for you?"

Taylor's eyes darkened. "It... it was alright at first, milady. Training weren't too hard and turns out wrestling soldiers isn't much different from wrestling pigs, and swinging a hoe and swinging a sword aren't much different when you think about it."

Magdala shook her head. "Really? I've tried to learn swordmanship, and I just can't get the hang of it. My father kept disarming me so quick my little brother thought it was magic."

Taylor moved forward in her seat. "Lord Commander Gallus is a great swordsman. I'd love to see him fight one day."

Magdala flicked her eyebrows up and down. "If you get lucky, you'll get a chance to spar him."

"That would be great! I just made corporal last week, though, so I don't know if he'll have time for me."

Magdala peered closer at the corporal. "How old are you?"

"About sixteen springs."

"A-and you've already made corporal? That's amazing! How'd you do it?"

Taylor looked down at her knees. "I, uh... You heard the town criers down in Walton?"

Magdala thought back, her finger on her chin. "Yes, something about cremating corpses."

Taylor shuddered. "Last week, the Southern Gate was attacked. When it happened, I was on the Vanurian side, doing the usual inspection work, checking heartbeats, looking for bodies, the like."

"Checking heartbeats? Why?"

"Vanurian merchants, milady. If they have passes, they can come through the gate and sell their stuff. We have to check for heartbeats so that nothing... wrong comes through.

"It started like a normal day, just merchants and their spouses hoping to make a little extra money off us Sourans. I was inspecting the women and my partner was inspecting the men, such as we can tell. We were about to do our last inspection when I saw a bunch of torches out in the distance. I prodded my partner and asked 'What's that?'. He went completely pale and shouted 'Close the Gate!'.

"It were only ten of us on the last shift, just ten poor soldiers and a horde hurtling towards us, so we all dashed for the Gate, but a runner came out and shouted 'Hold the line!' and made us line up with shields and spears out. It takes ten minutes to close the Southern Gate, and they don't want to let a single one of them things inside."

Magdala, sitting on the edge of her seat, cursed. "That's a stupid order. If you had retreated-"

"We know that now, milady," said Taylor, "but at the time we thought that we were following good orders. When those things attacked... In training, they give you pictures to recognize what you'd be fighting, but you don't need them. These things look human, have limbs like humans, but they ain't human. Their attack hit us hard. I had one on my shield, slobbering and wailing, trying to bite me or scratch me or... I don't know. We pushed back the first wave and the second and the third, but my partner got tired, put down his shield just to take a breath and, bam, one sank its teeth into his throat and just like that, our line crumbled, and we had to book it to the Gate, but just as we reached it, a horn sounded out. They were shutting the Northern Gate, cutting off our retreat."

Magdala got to her feet, the books in her lap tumbling to the floor. "Those bastards!"

Corporal Taylor kept her eyes fixed on her knees. "I thought something stupid. I thought, I just have to kill enough of them so they'll feel safe enough to open the gate again. It doesn't take as long to open the Souran side, the mechanism is just a winch pulled by ten people. So I drew my sword and charged." Taylor looked up. "I don't know how I survived. My mates tell me I saved three of them from getting eaten, that I took out a dozen and a half of those vile monsters, but all I can remember is that I just really wanted them to open the gate again and get my mates back home. I do remember Sir Marcus marching in with half a company and wiping out the rest of them. Afterwards, he cursed out my commanding officer and got him removed for dereliction of duty. And then he got me promoted."

After retrieving the books off the floor, Magdala sat back down, her heart racing. "Wow."

A soft whoosh made both girls jump and, after a moment, a obsidian door, one that Magdala had missed in her excitement, opened at the back of the study, and Magdala's lord uncle and his apprentice walked out of the black hole in the wall. Dwayne looked frazzled, but Lord Kalan was smoother somehow, calmer.

When he saw Magdala though, he frowned. "What are you doing here?" He strode over to her and pulled the books out of her hands. "These books are much too advanced for you."

Magdala swallowed a comment and curtsied. "I brought a guest. I wanted to ensure her message got to you."

Lord Kalan turned to Taylor, looking her over. "What is it?"

"Milord!" Taylor came to full attention. "Commander Harvey says quote 'Inform Lord Kalan that my base is not a daycare for foreign brats and that he'd better have a better explanation than the nonsense he's detailed here' unquote."

Lord Kalan snorted. "Message received. I'll dine with her tonight if she is so inclined. Relay that to her."

"Yes, milord!" Taylor about faced and marched out of the study.

After one last look at the books, Magdala ran after the soldier, catching up to her as she reached the front door.

Taylor grinned. "Are you coming with, milady?"

Magdala smiled. "I really want to. Surely there's something I can do about... well... darn." She groaned. "I haven't even started on my study plan. I can't go."

"Oh." Taylor's eyes fell to her boots. "It's okay."

Magdala stepped in close. "I do want to talk more though. Will you have the time?"

Taylor's head came up, her grin returning. "Yes, milady!"

"Then I'll see you soon."

***

Restless, Huan turned over in his bed to stare at the ceiling. The room he shared with Nathan and Sir Marcus had just enough room to fit four beds, three of which were currently occupied. Sir Marcus snored like a bellows, the room stretching to accomodate each shuddering breath. Nathan's snores in comparison were whispers, but in concert, knight and squire conspired to keep Huan awake. He tried to cover his ears but it didn't help. Up until now, he'd been sleeping out in the open along with Mei and Dwayne. Sure, Dwayne snored, but he didn't go to sleep until hours after Huan did, so it had never gotten on his nerves. His sister on the other hand slept like a stone, silent and firm. The ceiling above him reminded Huan that he was under the thumb of Lord Kalan and his ridiculous whims, pressing down on him and making it impossible to sleep. That and the snoring.

Let's go hunting. Tiger's bright gold eyes gazed out of a corner of his mind.

Huan stifled a growl, and quickly turned over to face the wall, pushing Tiger's mask out of the way. Just think about something else like "How am I going to get out of this stupid con-

Light filled the room, throwing Huan's shadow against the wall. Huan twisted, blinked at the light pouring from his bag, and leapt on top of it. He held his breath. Sir Marcus's snoring had paused, leaving only Nathan's gentle buzzing. Huan waited, counting Nathan's snores until the bellows in Sir Marcus's chest resumed their work. Letting out the breath, Huan peeked into his bag where the light had gone out. Covering his eyes, he inspected the only thing that could have produced that light, the skull he'd stolen from the Vanurian shop. It looked the same, the same white teeth grinning up at him, the same black holes mocking him, and the same etchings weaving their way over the bone in an unsettling pattern. He wrapped the thing in a spare shirt, closed the bag, and went back to bed.

Again, he lay there, his eyes refusing to stay closed, listening to the snores of the Sourans.

"Screw it." He slid out of bed, grabbed his bag and shoes, and tiptoed to the doorway. Before sending him to bed, Sir Marcus had spent an age teaching Huan every single military regulation and had repeated the word "curfew" many times, but Huan decided none of those applied to him.

Hunting finally.

No. I'm just going to look around. After slipping on his shoes, Huan cracked open the door and peeked out onto the eastern courtyard, which all of the barrack rooms faced. Two guards patrolled the space, each holding a torch aloft, and both peering into the shadows, their hands tightening on their spears. According to Magdala's incessant lecturing, no one had dared to attack the Southern Line in decades, and, in Huan's experience, people who guarded the unassailed found it hard to remain vigilant. Even the most devoted guard found it impossible to remain alert for hours on end. So, this was strange.

What happened here?

The guards turned towards the entrance of the courtyard, and Huan slipped out of the room.

"What was that?"

Huan froze and his mind raced to come up with a suitable excuse. However, the guards were facing away from him, their spears trembling.

One guard straightened up, a quaver still in his voice. "You know they would sound the horn, right?"

The other guard gave him a nervous smile. "Yep. They would. And we'd hear it and-"

"Run towards it and defend the homeland."

Both of their spears were still trembling.

The second guard bounced her chin up and down. "Sure, that. Let's keep patrolling."

As they finally moved away, Huan slipped out of the eastern courtyard and into the fortress's darkened south side, where the shadow of the wall loomed. He considered ascending the stairs to Walcrest, but four guards were manning them, and it would be too onerous to explain why he was out of bed. Instead, he edged around the stairs and entered a large lit space underneath them where he saw it. The Gate.

It was made of dark wood and towered over Huan, and, while Huan had seen gates before, this Gate made the one at Ti Mei look like a mouse next to a horse. It was wide too, enough for a hundred people to walk though it side by side. His eyes slid up the pyramid and saw the gigantic slab of stone that overhung the gate. Part of him had thought that he could just slip through and check out what was on the other side, but even if the Gate wasn't guarded by a dozen nervous guards, there was no way he'd be able to sneak through.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?" A trio of soldiers walked up to Huan, hands on their swords.

One of them, who had three chevrons and a triangle painted on her armor, looked Huan up and down, her eyebrows scrunched together. "What's a Tuquese doing all the way out here?"

Another guard drew his sword. "He snuck in. I bet he's a spy."

Huan's hand tried for his sword, but Sir Marcus had confiscated it.

The first guard gave her subordinate a look. "Calm down, Hanover." She put her hand to her chin. "There was a rumor... You with Lord Kalan's party?"

Huan's fingers stopped fruitlessly reaching for a weapon, and he managed to paint on his most brilliant smile. "Yes I am- whoa!" His bag shook so hard it nearly knocked him over. With cold numb fingers, he reached into it and found the skull shaking gleefully. What the hell is this thing?

"Boy, take your hand back out of that bag slowly."

Huan looked up to find three sword points in his face.

Tiger licked his chops. We can take them.

Shoving Tiger back, Huan dropped the smile and shook his head. "I'm training under Sir Marcus." He rummaged through his bag. "I'm in Soura under the authority of Lord Bartholomew Kalan." He found what he was looking for. "Here. I have a passport and everything." He pulled it out and showed it to the ranking guard.

Hanover scowled at the pyramid on a line emblem. "You could've forged that."

His leader shook her head. "No, he couldn't." She returned the passport. "That's the real thing."

The swords lowered and Huan's smile returned, fueled with relief. Tiger's eyes burned in the back of his mind.

The officer pointed behind Huan. "Return to your barracks. Unless you want me to wake up Sir Marcus and tell him you broke curfew." She gave a shark's smile. "Or should I inform Lord Kalan instead? I hear he does dastardly things up in his study. What the-?"

Huan's bag exploded in light and laughter.

Pulling the laughing skull out of his bag, Huan groaned. "I have no idea what this is," he said, but his nose was filled with a familiar scent, the one he'd smelled before a living suit of armor split the world in half. Magic. He threw the skull to the ground and smashed it to pieces with a stomp of his foot.

Swords drawn, the guards looked down at the pile of bone and fading magic.

Their leader recovered first. "By the cups, what was that?" She poked the remains with her sword.

Huan bowed twice. "Just a, uh, firework. With the right mixture and shape, you can create any effect."

Hanover glared at Huan. "It looked like a skull."

Huan gestured to the pile of bone shards. "That's the right shape." He gave a theatrical yawn. "Well I'll be getting back to bed now. Sorry about breaking curfew." He turned to leave.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "It looks like we'll need to report to Sir Marcus and Lord Kalan after all."