The next morning, Magdala and Saundra entered the cemetery.

The corporal wrinkled her nose. "Why are we here again, milady?"

Magdala buried her nose in the blue fabric of her dress sleeve. "Because corpses don't grow on trees; that mage had to have made them or stolen them."

According to Huan's report, the enemy mage had two of those evil creatures at her command, and given time, she could make up her losses after Magdala's attack on the shop. Finally, there were the fireworks Huan had found. What were they for? Fire worked against both the fiends and the wraith, so maybe population control? That didn't sound right. Only someone sloppy would leave uncontrollable weapons out in the open, and that didn't sound like the enemy. She'd know more if she could investigate the sites on the map Huan had stolen, but there was no way anyone would let her go to the other side of the Southern Line.

She smacked into the back of Saundra's breastplate. "Ow! Why'd you stop?"

Saundra looked down. "This is where my squadmates are."

Magdala followed the corporal's gaze to a half dozen red sandstone grave markers, which were just a few among the hundreds that filled the cemetery.

Saundra knelt and placed a hand on the closest one. "These are cut from the same quarry as the Southern Line, so we can remember what they protected."

Magdala's eyebrows lifted. "I didn't know that." Most of the markers around them were white marble or limestone, but, closer to the Southern Line, more and more of them were made of red sandstone. Magdala bowed her head. "They were heroes."

"They were my friends." Saundra gritted her teeth. "I couldn't save them."

"Yes, but-"

"It's fine." Saundra sniffed and stood up. "They did their best. Let's keep going and make sure no one else has to join them."

Magdala nodded. "Yes, let's."

They continued onwards, and after a while, a plume of smoke came into view at the edge of the cemetery.

Magdala pointed. "What's that?"

"Fire pits, milady."

"They're already lit... Did other people die from last night's attack?"

Saundra shook her head. "That's probably from more natural causes like old age or sickness."

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a fire pit where a half dozen or so bodies were being burned on a pyre, its smoke making Magdala gag.

A muffled voice called out. "Ah yeah, a wholesome smell, it ain't. Best if you step back, you two."

Soldier and mage retreated from the pits, allowing a person dressed in thick sooty fabric and heavy leather boots to clamber out of the pit.

Their face was covered in a thick dingy cloth, which bobbed up and down as they spoke. "A soldier and a noble, huh? Y'all draw the short straw?"

Magdala had to focus to understand.

Saundra shrugged. "Naw, we didn't. We got questions though."

Magdala stared, shocked that Saundra could emulate the same accent.

The other laughed. "Ah, a home gal! You're far from home, you are."

Saundra chuckled. "You too."

"Yeah, well, if you want to do something other than farming and hunting, then you got to come off the farm." The mask came off, revealing a browned forehead over a pug nose and a chapped frown. "She too good to talk?" she asked, gesturing to Magdala.

"I talk." Magdala swallowed bile and surprise. "Like she said, we have some questions for you."

The woman jabbed her thumb at the Southern Line. "This about that attack last night, or the one from a couple weeks ago?"

"Last night."

"Ah. Bad business both. When you got to burn them young, you just wonder what they could have been, you know? Did I just burn a future money changer? A farmer? A general?"

Magdala grimaced.

"Don't be so glum, little noble." The worker shoved her hands into her pockets. "What're your names by the by?"

Magdala stood up straight. "Lady Magdala Gallus. This is Corporal Saundra Taylor."

"Oh, a Lady." The worker bowed. "Ella Warren at your service. I'd shake your hands, but you don't want to know where they've been."

Magdala grimaced. "No, I do not. Do you run this cemetery?"

"No, that's Ms. Duffy, my boss. I just do the odd jobs around here. Was that it?"

Magdala shook her head. "How sure are you that you have been properly disposing of all the dead in the city?"

Warren blinked. "Wow. Direct."

"We don't have time for anything else."

"If you say so. I'm pretty sure we've been doing our job proper. This here is the main cemetery for Walton. Even the merchants come here."

"Is that by law?"

"Yup. Sure the posh like yourself have their own yards in town, but we burn everyone here first. It's too stinky otherwise."

"I can imagine." Magdala covered her nose with her sleeve. "How do you receive the corpses?"

"Usually in boxes after the wake. People want to see their loved ones for the last time. Makes them feel better. Not that it matters."

Saundra bristled. "You don't think it matters? It's the last time they'll see their loved ones."

Warren gave Saundra a look. "It's just a pile of meat, waiting to be burned."

Magdala's hand forestalled Saundra's reply. "So you don't look in the box afterwards?"

Warren shook her head. "For the most part, we just toss them in. We don't look too closely."

"Is this the only pit you have?"

"Nope."

"Can we look at the others?"

"Sure, I'll walk you over."

Whistling, Warren led Magdala and Saundra to another pit, which was only smoldering and stank much less.

Magdala frowned. "You don't keep them all stoked?"

"Well, people in Walton don't die that often. Even soldiers. Usually."

Magdala stole a glance at Saundra, whose expression looked blank, but her jaw was clenched. "Yeah, usually." Magdala steeled herself. "Let's go in."

Warren raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"I need to check something."

"Okay then."

Warren led Magdala and Saundra deeper into the pit, their boots sending up clouds of ash and dust that Magdala had to spit and cough to get rid of.

Stopping at a pile of ash and bone, Warren said, "Here's yesterday's." She scowled at the bone fragments still visible under the ash. "I find it hard to get the temperature up proper. Ms. Duffy can do it every time, but I'm still learning."

Magdala knelt next to the pile and peered closely at the bone fragments. "Can I borrow your gloves?" she asked Warren.

"Sure."

Putting on the thick leather gloves, Magdala sifted through the pile, pulling out the bone fragments and placing them to one side. After a moment, Saundra joined her, and together they found twenty bone fragments of sufficient size to identify. When Saundra held up the biggest piece and showed it to Magdala, Warren grimaced.

"Like I said, I really need to work on uping the temperature," she said.

"Yes, you do." Magdala examined the fragment. It had been brief, but last night's impromptu lesson on human skeletal structure was still fresh in her mind. "But we can thank the Cup that you're still learning. This isn't human."

"What?" Warren knelt down and frowned at the piece.

Saundra took the bone from Magdala and peered at it. "Yeah, that's a piece of plainshog jawbone."

"A human with a jaw like that would look strange indeed." Magdala returned Warren's gloves to her and stood up. "You said this was from yesterday?"

Warren nodded. "It just burned down this morning."

Magdala watched Saundra toss the jawbone back into the pile. "We're going to have to inspect the other pits too, but I'm guessing we're going to find more animal parts. Somehow, the enemy is stealing corpses before they're cremated. How many do you burn a day?"

Warren snorted. "Maybe two a week. More when there's a sickness, but that's rare."

"Well, I hope we don't find any others. Let's go check the other pits."

***

On the other side of town, Mei stepped up to the door of the house Huan had found and broke the knob with her axe handle. Stowing the weapon back on her belt, Mei pushed the door open and entered, leaving Nathan dumbfounded on the patio.

"Wait," he said. "Wait!"

Mei looked over the room. To her right, the desk stood with its now empty drawers hanging open, and in front of her, the shattered window that Huan had escaped through yawned out into the prairie, but there were only scraps of paper on the floor. Maybe they were remnants of the piles Huan had mentioned. Mei picked one up, glanced at the writing on it, then handed it to Nathan, who'd finally followed her in.

He frowned at it. "What's this? It's in their gibberish." He tossed it away. "So, where's this witch your brother found?"

Mei's eyebrows drew together. "Gone."

Nathan scoffed. "Of course she is. I can't believe Huan thought it was a good idea to take on a Vanurian witch alone. Hadn't he heard the stories?"

Mei pulled a torch out of her pack and lit it with flint. "What stories?"

Nathan gaped at her for a moment and then laughed. "Ah right, I forgot you two are from Tuqu. The stories say that Vanurian witches are able to heal from any wound whether it's in the heart, the stomach, wherever, so long as it's not in the head."

After fighting giant lightning bugs and seeing the magical feats both Maggie and Dwayne were capable of, Mei wasn't particularly impressed. Kneeling, she peered at the old and worn floorboards. Some of the scratch marks were very recent. "And?"

Nathan's mouth fell open. "You're... You're not shocked by that?"

Mei measured the scratch marks with her finger. "Anything else?"

Nathan's hands came up. "They can raise the dead too. I heard that they can put whole villages under their spell and make the residents do whatever they wanted, and that the villagers welcome it. Damn jungle dwellers. Oh, and they can change their face at will."

"Oh? Like a mask?" Mei followed the puzzling scratch marks to three dust-free squares on the floor that were right where Huan had said the boxes had been. The deepest marks led to the biggest square. Maybe the larger creature, the wraith, had carried both it and the square box out. Getting on her knees, Magdala sniffed at where the square box had been and detected the pungent scent of explosive powder.

Nathan leaned against a wall. "Imagine having the power to be anyone, man, woman, or child. I'm not sure they'd know the difference. I bet they could turn into that Wesen boy you all travel with, what's-his-name."

"No." From what Mei had seen, if a mage could do one kind of magic, they couldn't do another kind without Dwayne's special trick, and even he couldn't do two different kinds at the same time. Besides, if the Wesen mage could have changed his face, why would he change it to be something that Sourans were afraid of?

A pattern in the dust caught Mei's eye, and she measured it, finding it to be one and half hand spans long. Standing up, Mei left the house.

"Where are you going?" Nathan scrambled after her.

Mei stopped at the edge of the patio and scanned the ground. When she found what she was looking for a few steps west of the building, she walked up to it and measured how deep it was.

Behind her, Nathan gasped. "Is-is that a footprint?"

"Yes, from the wraith."

Nathan drew his sword. "Oh, cups, is it close?"

Mei pulled her rifle out of its case, loaded it, and then faced Nathan. "I will follow the trail. Will you?"

Nathan's eyes widened. "What if that thing is on the other end? I... I can't."

"Then I'll go."

"Isn't that the same mistake that your brother made? Going alone?"

Mei thought about it. "Then go get Sir Marcus. I will run if there is too much danger."

Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it, his brow furrowed. Mei watched him stand there, saying nothing and making faces.

Finally, he said, "Okay, sure, Just... don't get hurt. Sir Marcus will have my head if you do."

Mei nodded. "I won't fight. Go."

As Nathan ran in the direction of the garrison, Mei turned to follow the footprints. Although this part of Soura was covered in grass and rocks, the footprints were more than deep enough for Mei to follow, even while keeping one eye and both ears alert for danger. For three hours, she followed the trail, picking through small bushes, stepping over grass-snake holes, and startling rabbits out of their burrows. Slowing to a stop, she looked around. There was no evidence of a camp this far from-

The grass ahead of her rustled.

Dropping low, Mei slowed her breathing and oriented herself. To her right was the ever expansive presence of the Southern Line, to her left the endless prairie. Something about that was odd, but the danger ahead was much more important. After double checking that her rifle was loaded, she crept forward, keeping her finger off the trigger. Bullets were precious; life more so. The grass rustled again, this time much closer, and Mei felt a stone drop into her stomach as she finally figured out what was odd about the Southern Line being to her right. Somehow, the trail had looped back in on itself, and now whatever she was tracking was between her and Walton. Her only escape routes were around or through whatever was ahead, and the first option was too risky this close. No reason to put this off. She rolled into a clearing and aimed at the first target, who threw his arms up to protect himself.

"By the cups!"

Mei went rigid. "Nathan?" She pointed her rifle away.

Nathan opened one eye. "Mei?"

"Why are you here?"

The former squire opened both eyes and stood up, brushing dust off his uniform. "What are you doing here? I thought you were way ahead of us."

Mei pointed to the footprints. "The trail led me here."

"Oh... I brought Sir Marcus like you wanted. Hey, sir! I found her!"

A half dozen garrison soldiers advanced into the clearing, and Sir Marcus ran up to Mei. "Are you okay?" He checked her for wounds. "Did you find the enemy?"

Mei shook her head. "She doubled back."

Sir Marcus's eyes widened. "What?"

A pit formed in Mei's stomach. "They're not running way. They went back to Walton."

"By the cup." Sir Marcus raised his voice. "We're heading back! On the double!"

***

Huan opened his eyes and found that the room was quiet, its silence punctuated with the slow steady buzz of Lord Kalan's snores. Holding his side, Huan slid out of bed and crept to one of the chairs where a folded set of clothes, the red and brown uniform of the Southern Line Garrison, lay. He glared at the generous fit. He assumed they thought he'd grow into these over time, but he had no intention of staying that long. First chance he got, he was going to burn this uniform.

Tiger roused. Time to hunt?

Shaking his head, Huan stuffed Tiger's mask down the front of his tunic, and, after rearranging his clothes to make it look more like a weird fold and less like he was smuggling an entire army in his shirt, he snatched the map and knife he'd stolen off the chair, stuffed the former into his pocket and the latter into his belt.

Hungry.

Rolling his eyes, Huan stuffed his feet into a pair of boots, snuck up to the door, and placed his ear against the wood. Orders, weapon clashes, and boots pounding stone echoed beyond the door, but there was no sign of his sister. He smiled.

"Huan? Where... Where am I?"

Huan cursed and turned around as Lord Kalan sat up, pain and effort creasing his face.

"Huan, where am I?" he asked.

Kill him.

Huan's hand reached for his sword, but it was still in the armory.

Just do it with your hands.

No, there’s no upside to killing him.

There’s one. Freedom.

Lord Kalan coughed. “Huan, what’s going on?”

The thief managed a weak smile and straightened up. “Nothing, sir. I’m just keeping watch.”

“Keeping watch?” Lord Kalan looked around and groaned. “Right, I was, uh, attacked. That knife must have had poison on it. Where’s Dwayne? Is he all right?”

Huan's smile turned stiff. “He's fine.” Apparently, Lord Kalan had forgotten that Huan had been there too.

Lord Kalan collapsed back onto his bed. “Good. Good.”

Huan put his hand on the door knob, but a question arose in his mind. “What would happen if I lost my passport?”

The noble made a face. “I'd have to fill out a lot of forms for one, and you’d have to tell us how you lost it.”

Huan relaxed. That doesn’t sound too bad.

“And you’d be deported.”

"What?"

"It's standard procedure." Lord Kalan closed his eyes. "I'd need to get the queen or twelve other nobles to sign off on your staying here without a passport, and there's no way that's happening for anything less than the Emperor's son."

Huan sank down into a chair. “Even if... they’ll kill me if I go back?”

Lord Kalan sat up again, frowning. “What are you talking about? Who will kill you?”

Huan raised his hands. “Oh, it’s just a what's-it-called. A hypo-thingy.”

Lord Kalan raised an eyebrow. “A hypothetical?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Ah, well.” Lord Kalan settled against his headboard. “Unfortunately, you’d still get deported, and you're not a slave, so I can't buy you.”

Huan leaned forward. "Like you did with Dwayne?"

Lord Kalan scowled. “I made him my heir. It will be official as soon as Her Majesty receives my letter.”

Lucky Dwayne. Huan’s eyes slid to the door. “Sir, I-”

“I have a question.” Lord Kalan was staring up at the ceiling. “A, uh, hypothetical if you will. What if you really wanted to do something dangerous, but didn't want to put anyone you cared about in harm's way?”

Huan ran his hand through his hair. “I... I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been doing all right with things as they are," continued Lord Kalan, "but there’s something else out there, something that's the key to all your hopes and dreams, and if you brought everyone and everything you had to bear on the question, you might grasp the root of the world. Or you might lose it all. What would you do?”

Huan tried to work through the problem. “If you go alone, can you get what you want?”

“Yes." Lord Kalan winced. "Well, maybe. The odds are much worse for sure. All this time, you’ve just been finding the edges of solutions, but all the real progress has come from the one you want to protect.”

Huan's head jerked back. Dwayne. He cleared his throat. “No need to risk them. Just go it alone, the chances of success be damned.”

“Hmm. Something to consider.” Lord Kalan slid back down into his covers. “I’d better rest. Are you going to stand guard there?”

Huan got to his feet and stepped to the door. “I’m going to the bathroom first, but I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, good...” The noble's eyes fluttered closed.

When he started snoring, Huan exited the room with all haste. Lying to Lord Kalan had been easy, but it was clear that he had to find his passport fast. He rushed down the corridor, turned left, and ran smack into another soldier. They both stepped back, apologies on their lips.

“Sorry, I-”

“I apolog-” The other soldier's accent lilted and twirled.

It’s her! Huan jumped back and raised his fists, again wishing he had his sword.

Liraya, now dressed in the muddy red armor of the Southern Line Garrison, smirked. “Little soldier boy. I'm so glad that we ran into each other." She looked Huan over and tsked. “It’s my professional medical opinion that you should go back to bed. A wound like that doesn't heal overnight, but before you go though, tell me, where’s Lord Bartholomew Kalan? I’m here to finish his treatment.”

Huan kept his eyes on her. “I won't tell you anything."

Liraya's smirk deepened. “Of course not. It’s completely in your best interests to stay silent right now. Let me give you some incentive. Melany, Fo cenalloros."

The little monster stepped out from behind Liraya with a grin on her face and a firework in her fist. Without a word, she skipped out into the yard. When she passed the patrols, Huan opened his mouth and found a blade between his teeth. Liraya had snatched it off his belt.

Liraya held the knife steady. "Wait for it."

Melany pulled a match out of her cloak, struck it against the ground, and lit the firework.

Liraya pulled her blade out of Huan's mouth. "You have, oh, about ten seconds to tell me where Lord Kalan is, or else it will get rather exciting around here."

Huan's jaw dropped. The fuse on that firework was much shorter than ten seconds. "He's just-"

With a pop and a bang, the rocket screamed into the evening sky, trailing sparks and smoke. Everyone, thief, mage, and soldier, watched the rocket reach the apex of its trajectory and burst into a bright red incandescence.

Huan recovered first, jumping out of Liraya's range and pulling on Tiger's mask.

"Mala," spat Liraya. "Melany, Fo yama e Zeya!"

Huan recognize the name and turned to rush the little monster, but Liraya's knife forced him back, and Melany disappeared into the gawking soldiers.

Grinning, Liraya ran down the corridor.

Growling, Huan gave chase. "What was that?"

"Plan B." Liraya disappeared around a corner.

When Huan turned that same corner, something hard knocked him forward, and cold clammy hands pinned him to the ground.

Sitting down on an old crate that had been left in the alley, Liraya said, "Zeya, no le vaomane." She gave the wraith time to get comfortable and leaned forward, smiling into Huan's glare. "So, where's Lord Bartholomew Kalan?"