As Huan's normally dark brown eyes glittered gold, Mei squared her shoulders and stepped forward, her hand tightening on her axe .

In front of her, Huan bristled. "I asked you a question, Mei."

Marcus sheathed his sword. "Huan, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in bed."

"I'm just looking for my prey." Huan's hand rubbed his stomach. "Instead, I find opportunists trying to take her from me."

Marcus stepped forward. "We're not trying to take anything from you. Return to the infirmary. You're in no shape to be-"

"I'm fine!"

The soldiers all flinched, their hands dropping to their weapons.

Huan closed his eyes and breathed deep. When his eyes opened again, the gold had drained from them, and he tried a smile. "I'm more useful out here hunting for that witch than I am in bed."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "They had to stitch you back together."

Huan shrugged. "Even so, I can at least be as useful as you."

Marcus's soldiers advanced as one, their fear replaced with rage. Mei turned to them, ready to defend her brother, but Marcus laughed, slicing through the tension.

"Maybe." The knight walked up to Huan and put his hand on Huan's shoulder. "This is a military operation, and you've made it abundantly clear that you don't want to join us as a soldier. If you won't return to the infirmary, at least go back to Walcrest and rest."

A cheer shook the air. Mei only heard raw emotion, but Huan froze in place, sweat breaking out on his brow, gold leaking back into his eyes.

She readied her axe. "Huan?"

Blinking, her brother returned, his eyes widening. "You... you don't hear it? That's how they sounded when..."

Mei's breath caught. There was only one "when." "Huan..."

Huan's face tightened, and the gold in his eyes flashed. "I'm going to pursue her."

Marcus's hand dropped to his sword. "No, you are not."

With a snarl, Huan charged Marcus, but Mei's axe got between her brother and the knight, so Huan halted just in front of her and glared. He puffed himself up, but his intimidation tactic failed to move Mei, who just kept her eyes on his gold irises. For a long moment they stood there, neither backing down. Then the crowd roared again, and the gold drained from Huan's eyes.

"Fine," he said with a sniff. "I'm going back. Good luck finding her without me."

When he left, a half dozen breaths were released.

Marcus patted Mei on the back. "You should go with him."

Mei shook her head. "No, I need to finish this." She put away her axe and searched for signs of Liraya's passing.

***

If Magdala had had any doubts as to how much money Walton made trading with Vanuria, the opulence of the bishop's chamber would have banished them. After strong arming the priests and deacons to grant them an audience with the bishop, she and Dwayne were ushered into a room detailed with rich dark brown shade oak, gleaming gold fittings, and crimson velvet curtains. The bishop's desk, a slab of marble placed on steel legs, looked plain from a distance but on closer inspection, was a work of art. The veins in the marble had been worked to depict scenes from the Book of Cueller, and the legs were etched with the images of saints. That said, the plainest evidence of this church's wealth was a simple silvery cup on the desk. It was made of the same hard to extract metal as Langseth's medallion, aluminum.

Magdala and Dwayne sank into two leather chairs that had been placed in front of the desk.

Dwayne gawked. "This is nice."

Magdala snorted. "Tithes must be going well."

"Tithes?"

"Offerings to the church. If you want to know how well a town is doing, go to its church."

"Such cynicism from one so young." The bishop strode by Magdala, sat behind her desk, and rested her tall triangular hat on the marble. Beaming at the two of them, she said, "Young Lady Gallus and Lord Kalan's... apprentice. I am Bishop Hansson. I was preparing to speak to my congregation, but my doors are always welcome to promising youths such as yourselves."

Judging from the creases in her eyes and mouth, she was probably around Lord Kalan's age.

Magdala managed a flat smile. "Are you going to fit that entire crowd in the nave?"

The bishop shook her head. "It's not a service. I plan to only have a quick word with them."

Magdala leaned back in her chair. "About that 'quick word'. Are you really going to push for the expulsion of all of the Vanurians?"

The bishop's eyes flashed, though the smile stayed. "They consciously reject the Book of Cueller and its teachings, and though Walton has tolerated their heresy, they've repaid us by raining unholy beasts from the sky." The smile disappeared under a blaze of cold fury. "They should be sent back to the forests from which they sprung."

Magdala leaned forward. "This is the work of just one Vanurian. There's no evidence that-"

The smile returned. "You are a Qe mage are you not? Qe magic is a pure and just magic, which works with the land to bring about miraculous benefit for society. For example, your lady mother has ensured the livelihoods of many by bringing life-sustaining water to the needy, your lord uncle has reshaped the land so that our people can live on it, and of course the work of the wind Qe has brought our word to foreign shores."

"I'm sure the merchants think of that every time they set sail," said Dwayne.

Magdala threw a glance at him, but he was sitting up in his seat, his eyes locked on the bishop, his expression earnest.

The bishop's smile beamed at him. "Yes, they do."

Magdala stood up and put her hands on the desk. "If you expel the Vanurians, you will damage this city. Its whole existence rests on the trade from Vanuria."

Hansson stood, her affected good cheer gone. "Young Lady Gallus, you are not your father. You are not your mother. You're not even a graduate of the Magisterium, and so you have no standing here. I've wasted enough time." She stepped around her desk and left the room.

Magdala's heart sank. "She's going go to give that speech isn't she?"

Dwayne jumped to his feet. "Yes, she is."

Magdala beat him to the door and caught sight of the bishop crossing the nave to the front of the church. "Wait!"

The bishop barely looked back. "I have a higher calling." She opened the door, and cheers crashed into Magdala's ears. The bishop raised her hands and the noise swelled, then she lowered them, and it faded to whispers.

"My fellow countrymen, I am sorry." The bishop's words boomed out over the crowd, each one spoken slowly and distinctly so that they could be understood.

"I am sorry that unholy shells smashed your homes, I am sorry that your children had to cower in fear while monsters marauded in our streets, and I am sorry that despite the efforts of our ancestors, our leaders have seen fit to allow heathens and heretics into our fair queendom.

"I stand here humbled by your fortitude, by your strength in these trying times, and I have listened. Listened to stories of little boys and girls trembling under beds, of their fathers barring the door against the night, of their mothers charging at the enemy. You, Sourans, you are a strong people, and I am humbled to be counted among you.

"This threat is not to be ignored. These heathens are not to be allowed here in this sacred land that our ancestors fought to save. You, strong descendents of strong people, should you stand for this?"

"No!" The crowd's answer shook dust from rooftops.

"When they ask you to just give them some time, what say you?"

"No!"

"When the enemy stands at our gates, when they demand that we give up our lands, our families, our essence, what say you?"

"No!" The mob roared, and the bishop basked in their fury, a smile on her face. After a long loud moment, she raised her hands and lowered them, bringing forth a fearsome silence.

"Then you know what to do."

While the mob erupted, the bishop turned to Magdala and Dwayne. "By the light and cup of Cueller."

***

Huan arrived at the edge of the crowd, its anger sinking into his bones and unearthing old memories he'd buried long ago. A gallows set for two. A jade masked overseer. Two faces, tear streaked and pleading.

A hand grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him back to the present. "Money man! You ready?"

Huan turned, a snarl on his lips, but stopped short. It was the man who'd accosted him earlier.

Forcing the beast back, Huan turned his snarl into a half smile. "Ready? Always."

The man grinned. "Then it's settled. We're going to force those Vanurian bitches out of our town and 'escort' them across the wall."

"Escort?" Huan shook his head. "That sounds too polite for them."

The others agreed.

"Yeah, we shouldn't make it so easy for them!"

"We should give them a little of what they gave us."

The man's eyes narrowed. "We just want them to leave peace like."

Huan put a hand on the man's shoulder and leaned in. "But what if they refuse?"

***

Horrified, Magdala watched fury transform the crowd into a mob. While muscled laborers talked in low voices with dusty farmers fresh from the market, lawyers in fine suits pantomimed striking skulls with their canes. Worse, Walton's guards were talking to the mob, not keeping them in line.

Was this how massacres began?

By now, any Vanurians in the church square had fled, hopefully to warn their families about what was coming, but it wouldn't be any use. The market square and the garrison lay between the Jungle and the gate, and rushing the market would incense the mob while rushing the garrison would incite Colonel Harvey to attack. The Vanurians' only choice was to flee deeper into Soura, creating an invasion led by desperation and fear.

"We have to stop them."

Magdala stared at Dwayne. He'd said the words she was thinking.

Dwayne's eyes swept the square. "If they slaughter the Vanurians, then that witch will have so many more bodies to use. She'd be unstoppable."

Magdala shivered. "She already has more than enough corpses to cause chaos. If she gets the Vanurians..." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a single vial of sedative.

Dwayne winced. "That's not enough for all of them."

"If I hurry back, then I can use the garrison's stores, maybe even get Harvey to send a squad with me to stop the mob."

"Is there enough time? You'll be cutting it pretty close."

Magdala shook her head. "I don't see any other way. Maybe if the mayor or my lord uncle were here..." She grabbed Dwayne's shoulders. "You, you can stop this."

"What?" Dwayne tried to pull away, but she held on. "No, I can't. You know that!"

The bishop, who had been talking with a deacon, glared at them. "The people will do what is right."

"Shut up!" said Magdala.

The bishop's smile only inspired more fury. "Ah, the famous Gallus temper, or was it Kalan?"

Magdala's face grew heated, but she pushed past it and focused on Dwayne. "You can do this. You can buy me time."

Dwayne shook his head.

The bishop stepped closer. "They won't listen to a foreigner."

Magdala rounded on the bishop. "I'm trying to keep us from being buried in fiends. If the Vanurians die, Walton will fall!"

The bishop blanched. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll do it." Dwayne was covered in sweat and breathing fast and shallow, but his eyes were alert and set. Leaving Magdala and the bishop behind, he stepped out in front of the crowd.

***

"What do you mean, 'what if they refuse?'"

Huan squeezed the man's shoulder. "You heard right. What if they refuse? Should you just politely let them stay here in your queendom and endanger you and your own?"

The man shook his head. "No, of course not."

Huan leaned in. "So, what should we do?"

"Make them leave," shouted a gap-toothed woman. "Pull them out of their houses and push them through the gate."

Huan turned to her, drawing his eyebrows together. "What if they fight? What if they hurt you?"

A man with rolled up sleeves piped up. "Hurt them back!"

Huan met the first man's eyes. "What if they draw a weapon? I'm sure they have weapons hidden in those houses of theirs."

The man's reply was succinct. "Kill them!"

Huan released the man and spread his hands wide. "There's your answer." They'll get the job done, despite Mei and Sir Marcus getting in my way.

"Let's get them!"

A peal of thunder forced everyone to duck.

Huan rose first and identified the source of the explosion, a simply dressed figure with dark brown skin and tightly curled black hair. Dwayne.

The man got to his feet. "By the cup, who is that?"

"What's a slave doing up there?"

Huan gritted his teeth. Ruining everything.

***

The Responsibilities of a Noble Mage had a few things to say about public speaking. One should make sure to pronounce each and every hard sound, one should use silence to project an air of confidence, and finally, one should aim to look the audience in the eyes.

When hundreds of eyes focused on Dwayne, those tips flew out of his mind, and a headache, the after effects of the botched explosive spell he'd used get their attention, replaced them.

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat. "Good morning, um, citizens!"

The people nearest to Dwayne frowned.

"What was that?"

"Who are you?"

"Where's your master, boy?"

With his heart pounding in his ears, Dwayne could barely hear these queries, and he stepped back. This had been a mistake.

"Get away from there!"

Fingers brushed against the back of Dwayne's tunic, but then glass broke and something slumped to the ground.

Magdala's voice urged him forward. "Keep going. Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble..."

Dwayne wanted to look back, but the interruption had given his brain time to reengage, and Armsford's words came back to him. He raised his voice. "I am Lord Bartholomew Kalan's heir, Dwayne."

"The hell you are!"

"You a Wesen bastard is what you are!"

Sliding his hand into his pocket, Dwayne met the eyes of the crowd. "I am a Qe mage, and so I qualify. Qemimaem."

A gust of wind pulled the smells of the crowd, dung and sweat, perfume and fruit, into Dwayne's nose. They were all human, not monsters. The unexpected breeze had got their attention again, and he tried not to waste it. "You are hurt. My master and I, we failed to protect you."

"Where is your master, slave?"

"Where is yours?" Dwayne stepped towards the crowd. "Is hate your master? Is pain? Did you come here all the way to Soura's edge to have mere emotion rule you?"

"They attacked us first!"

Dwayne nodded. "You're right, they did, but are they your masters? No. I was a slave. I know masters." Dwayne didn't know where he was going with this, but more of the crowd was listening so he couldn't stop. He looked into the eyes of a couple, who were holding each other close. "A slave makes no decisions. You wake when they tell you. You eat when they tell you. You fight when they tell you, and every minute they remind you that they have the power, that it's for your own good, you can't decide for yourself."

His eyes met those of a woman whose bare head gleamed in the sun. "One day, you believe them, and you say 'I can't.' Another slave will walk up to you and say, 'Let's run away,' and you say 'no'. You have work to do, and if you don't do that work, you'll be punished. You're just trying to survive after all.

"But you lot are more than slaves."

Ignoring the crowd's waning interest, Dwayne pressed on, a fire lit in his soul. A couple of people shivered in the front row.

"You lot are not slaves!" he shouted. "The Vanurians do not control you! Your hate, your fear do not control you! You are free!

"I am not asking you to put aside your pain. I am asking you to think about what it can be used for."

Dwayne nodded to the couple again. "Your houses have been damaged, and your children are scared, but I see you all have hands, feet, and will. I see carpenters and blacksmiths, farmhands and laborers, all able to restore, no remake, Walton. All you have to do is do what you can, and I... I'll do what I can. I'm here as the representative of Walcrest, and if you have any requirements for the Guardian of the Wall, I'll be right here."

He stopped talking, his breath clouding up in front of him.

A Walton resident approached, her hands gripping a wool hat. "My house was hit by one of them things that fell from the sky."

Dwayne sat down on the church steps. "Okay, tell me more."

Then the crowd rushed the steps, raising their hands and talking over one another.

One hand tapped Dwayne on the shoulder.

He glanced back. "Yes?"

Magdala gave him a warm smile, even as she sniffled from the fading cold. "Just keep going. I'll deal with the rest."

Dwayne smiled back. "Good luck, and thank you." He returned to his responsibility.

***

"It got real quiet over there."

"Maybe Lady Magdala put them all to sleep. I heard one of the officers say she was kicked out of the Magisterium for that."

"Ooo, scary."

"Quiet, you two," said Marcus. "Mei needs to concentrate."

Mei didn't mind the conversation though. When it was quiet, her mind drifted to two things: Huan's eyes glowing gold and the blood spurting from the enemy mage's wounds. The former meant her brother was losing himself to the mask, and the latter made her want to bury her mother's work and never touch it again. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Mei refocused on the signs before her. The Vanurian mage's trail from the fortress's western wall to where Mei was standing had been so clear, even Marcus and his soldiers had been able to follow it. The giant and the wraith had knocked over rubbish bins, scraped walls, and left clear footprints in the dirt during their flight, but now, even after searching the whole building, they only found a single scrap of red cloth at the northern end.

Marcus sighed. "I'm guessing she went south?"

Mei rubbed the soft fabric between her fingers. This whole time, the Vanurian mage had misled, distracted, and tricked them. This was far too straightforward for her.

"No." Mei walked south, opened a splintery door, and stepped out into the Southern Line's cool shadow. The giant couldn't be hidden in the town so maybe... she looked up.

From a distance, the Southern Line looked massive, a hulking block of red stone that dwarfed everything around it, but seeing it up close almost crushed Mei. Still, she approached the structure and pressed her hands into a wall of thick, damp moss that sloped up and over her head. This place hadn't seen the sun in eons, and the moss grew like it was in the deepest undergrowth of a forest, and where stone could hide secrets, it would tell. Turning away from the wall, Mei followed it east until she came upon a pile of bloodied clothes on the ground, which she pushed aside with her foot. A deep, massive pair of mossy footprints greeted her. The giant.

Marcus joined her. "Just two? How?"

Mei looked up.

Marcus did too. "No. That's not possible. You can't climb the Southern Line. There aren't any handholds!"

"But if she did, she could see everything," said Mei.

"Yes, she'd be able to see all of Walton, but how would she get up there? And how would she get down?"

"The giant made it."

"But it's not alive. Maybe the magic that holds it together makes it as hard as stone?"

"When I shot it, it bled."

So had the mage, so much that the clothes were stiff with it.

Mei forced her hands still. "Nathan said that Vanurian mages can heal any wound."

Marcus sighed. "That would explain why we haven't seen much blood."

"Then," Mei pointed up, "they could survive a fall from up there."

"Too risky. She'd have to fly."

"I have seen mages fly."

"Vanurian mages cannot. If they could, well... we'd have bigger problems."

Mei considered this. It felt right that Liraya would escape to the top of the Southern LIne, but Marcus had a point. She had no idea how Liraya would get up there. She was missing something. "Those fiends were to slow us down?"

Marcus grimaced. "I have no idea. I've been ambushed before, but this is..." He let out a breath.

"Magdala said that the mage has been here a long time. This is familiar ground to her."

"I'm sorry?"

"Traps are made for specific prey. We got caught, but we got out so what was she hunting for?"

"A bruising," answered a soldier.

The other soldier rolled her eyes. "That was forced. Maybe she didn't think we'd send a full squad after her?"

Marcus tapped his foot. "But if she's been here for so long, then she knows we don't go on patrol with less than four people. We don't head out alone."

The bottom of Mei's stomach dropped out. "Huan."

Marcus's eyes widened. "We need to find him, and make sure he doesn't get caught in these traps. Squad, back to the garrison!" He and the soldiers quick-marched away, but Mei was slow to follow. They were still missing something.