Aftermath

Mui Thom

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Without the eyes of a Chosen or her wife to distract attention away from Mui, he found that the command tent of General Borek was as intimidating a place to stand as he’d once feared. Granite faces stared at him as he held himself in parade rest, hands folded behind his back, his armor polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the gemstones. They were the only light in the humid hours after sunset, and his eyes were still adjusting to the relatively bright interior after his hurried rush across the camp to answer General Borek’s summons.

Mui was the only one standing. The General faced him across the table, joined on either side by Colonels, Lieutenants, and civilian advisors. Not a one of them had an ounce of sympathy in their steely glares. The kindest of them were simply cool in their bearings, uncaring of his fate. The worst of them were overtly hostile, unvarnished contempt washing over their faces. Only General Borek spoke amongst them, but Mui wasn’t naive enough to think that meant the men and women in the tent had allowed their voices to go unheard. He knew he was the centerpiece of a neatly rehearsed play, every question that was uttered having been decided by consensus.

“Your service to the Empire has been more… remarkable than any could have expected from you, Sergeant,” Borek said. The words seemed complimentary on their face, but they were uttered without warmth. “You were instructed to act as a trusted liaison to the Powdered Lead, and furthermore, to assure the Chosen at the mercenary group’s core that you are trustworthy. You have, inarguably, completed this task. You are to be commended for that.”

Not a formal, written commendation, I take it? Mui thought to himself. He shook the thought away. If there were any poor habits he’d developed from Sara’s influence, it was a propensity for sarcastic remarks. To say the least, this wasn’t the time for such comments.

“While rumormongering had doubtlessly given you a rudimentary idea of what occurred in the Imperial capital, you have now been informed of the full, unaltered truth of the events.” General Borek leaned forward, eyes flashing. “What do you think of them?”

He blanched. “Sir?”

“Need I repeat myself?”

Mui licked his snout, smoothing his whiskers down in hopes it would give him more time to formulate a response.

“...I think many things, sir,” he said at last, right as General Borek began to show impatience. “Enough that I beg of you for specifics, so that my… my wandering thoughts would not delay you overlong.”

“The woman, Sergeant,” Borek stated flatly. “The Chosen. How has your view of her changed?”

“Little, sir,” Mui said, the honest truth slipping out before he could think better of it. He winced, but didn’t try to backpedal. Honesty was one of his bad habits he most certainly had not picked up from Sara.

There was grumbling around the table. Borek silenced it with a hand, still watching Mui closely.

“Explain your reasoning, Sergeant. One hardly needs to take a survey to see that most of the army, from the lowest musketeer to the highest Warriors, have had their opinion of the Chosen irreversibly altered. Why is this not the case for you?”

Thankfully, Mui did not blurt what came first to his mind:

Frankly, I am shocked and grateful that she allowed so many survivors.

That would not have gone over well, but yes, it would have been the most honest reply. Thanks to communication crystals and the peculiarity of fast-flying rumors, Mui had spent the first few hours after the event knowing only that someone, somehow, had threatened the life of baby Tahn. He’d thought the plot was ongoing, as a matter of fact, and with that as his singular piece of knowledge, Mui had rushed to pack his tent and all his belongings into his travel bags, fully intending to flee into the ravenous jungle. He didn’t know how the army was going to be obliterated, as Sara certainly hadn’t shown a physical or magical capacity for such a thing, but he’d assumed it would happen all the same. He’d never been a historical scholar, but he knew this much from childhood tales: Chosen acting in defense of the innocent didn’t concern themselves with what others thought they should or shouldn’t be able to do.

His next reaction, upon learning that it was Evie who acted in Sara’s stead, was one of profound relief. He’d seen both women in a fight. Sara would have been a wildfire sweeping across the city, her blind rage burning all in its path. Evie simply didn’t have it in her to maintain her wrath for very long. She would be irate, yes, but if she hadn’t killed whoever-it-was then and there, she would have been calm within the hour.

Oh, he hadn’t been surprised to learn of the primary victim’s fate— particularly when he’d learned it was Mayaran. That she’d suffered a gruesome death was unpleasant, but well within his expectations. Cold anger could produce worse things than any rampage. As a boy he’d known a pair of husbands who’d fled their home to escape a village blood feud, a cruel thing begun over some petty offense of honor even they could barely remember. As Mui recalled the story, the feud had steadily escalated over a period of years until, finally, members of either family were being left impaled on stakes before the entrance to their respective villages. The bloody murders had ultimately required the local militia and a busy day at the gallows to resolve. As a warning against the dangers of such feuds, his father had taken him and his siblings to the hangings. From what Mui had heard through the army’s rumors, and now through General Borek, it seemed Evie had simply… skipped to the end of that process. Utilitarian as always.

While General Borek told the fuller, more complete version of events, it struck Mui that the General had suspected he’d have such a view of things, and so had heavily stressed the collateral damage in his retelling.

The children who had died by Evie’s hand.

Mui had done as he always did when he learned of dead children in the war. Avert his eyes, shove the memory aside, and, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, acknowledge that there would be a cost to pay for such willful ignorance. Whether it would be the gods or his own hand that would reap the toll he didn’t yet know, but he had no choice. It was the only way for a soldier to remain sane.

That wasn’t what the General wanted to hear, however. No amount of Sara’s speeches regarding ‘speaking truth to power’ could trick Mui into telling the General of The First Imperial Blackpowder Army that he should be grateful for how little had been lost. Having been asked the question directly, Mui had a duty to tell General Borek the truth about why his opinion of Sara hadn’t changed, but he was no fool. He would dig up a truth which wouldn’t end with his head rolling across the tent floor.

“Though I beg your forgiveness for such a selfish thought, sir, I find myself, more than anything else, feeling… grateful,” he said at last.

“Grateful?” General Borek demanded.

“That the Chosen remains on our side,” Mui hastily explained. “That she is… that the great guns will not leave us. That we needn’t incur the fearful battle that would be required to overwhelm and destroy the Powdered Lead in our midst. I have seen their riflemen in action more closely than most, have trained both with and against them, and I know that we have few troops, save of course our Warriors, who can claim to be their equal. Certainly we possess no single large formation that is their equal, as they number five hundred. In the end, what I think of Sara matters little next to that concern.”

A few scoffs accompanied rolling eyes around the table. Mui’s long-held reputation as what Sara would call a “goody-two-shoes” had spread beyond his old squadmates, it would seem. General Borek wasn’t among those who looked exasperated, but he did blow out a tight breath. The general and his advisors clearly weren’t satisfied with Mui’s answer, but they believed he’d spoken honestly. They should. He was telling a truth, after all. It was simply one of many.

Suddenly, a familiar voice floated into his right ear, that subtle timbre of magic telling him that he was the only one who could hear it. It took all of Mui’s resolve to keep his fur from spiking with surprise.

“We’ll make a politician out of you yet,” Sara whispered, amusement bubbling beneath the words. “Answering a different question is the oldest trick in the book.”

Mui had heard Sara’s voice unnaturally cast into his ears before, but this experience was even stranger than ever, because it wasn’t distracting. Somehow, in a way that he lacked the words to define, Sara’s words didn’t detract from his ability to focus on the conversation before him. His mind was split, or perhaps expanded, allowing him to pay equal attention to General Borek and Sara’s voice. It had never been like that before.

“Your concern for your comrades is commendable,” General Borek rattled off perfunctorily, clearly disinterested in offering even such painfully mild praise. His gaze sharpened. “Yet I am less interested in how you view possibilities now passed than I am how you view the present. In light of all that has occurred, are you willing to continue your association with the Chosen? Battle is expected tomorrow morning, and it will be the Blackpowder Army’s first true test against the rebels. Once I would have anticipated the Powdered Lead to serve as a stalwart centerpiece of our strategies. Now…” General Borek stared over Mui’s shoulder, scowling as if he could see the mercenary camp through the tent’s walls. “Now I find it critical that a loyal Imperial stands beside the Chosen. She has proven unpredictable, unreliable, and more than willing to act against our people’s best interests. No matter how many assurances she provides that all is ‘said and done’ between us, only a fool would think the banishment of her wife did not build considerable resentment.”

“At least he’s not stupid enough to fall for me acting all polite,” Sara chuckled. “But I guess I gave him enough of a show in the city to prove how I really feel, no matter how much I’ve lied straight to his face since then.”

“Sir,” Mui said, licking his snout again, “what, exactly, are you asking of me? I cannot hope to be a spy at the Chosen’s side. She would see through any deception in an instant, as I’m sure you well know.”

“I am not asking you to spy, Sergeant. I am ordering you to do what was once your original duty: stand as a reminder to the Imperial Army’s interests. Unlike before, however, there is an additional task to consider. If it proves necessary, you must inform the Empire of any… ill-advised plans the Chosen might undertake.”

“If that is to be my lot, sir, I will follow orders, but I feel compelled to warn you that I could not hope to detect any deception she might attempt. If she truly wished to betray the Empire, there is nothing I could do about it.”

“But she trusts you, does she not? That is why you in particular were chosen in the first place.” General Borek glanced at the Sergeant’s petals on Mui’s shoulder. “There were, and still are, many more-qualified individuals than yourself for this job. But you are the only one who has gained her personal confidence. That is an advantage that cannot be replicated.”

“He’s got you there, big guy,” Sara’s voice intoned. “I do trust you. Hells, I think I actually would tell you if I was planning to betray the Empire. ‘Course I don’t have any plans to at the moment, since we’re all fighting the same enemies, but still.”

Mui thought of telling General Borek that Sara was even then listening to their conversation. It certainly seemed like the loyal, honorable thing to do. But he knew it wouldn’t achieve anything of note. Telling the General that Sara was more than willing to accept a spy amidst her staff would only get him removed from the position, while simultaneously ensuring Sara wouldn’t allow him to remain with her and the Powdered Lead.

And why do I want that? He wondered to himself. General Borek is right. Evie slaughtered innocent children. Sara provoked a disaster in the Empire’s most holy city. I should hate her as much as General Borek does.

“I understand. And I will follow orders, sir,” Mui said. “I only wish to make it understood that my reports cannot be relied upon as forewarning of anything you might wish to know.”

“Yes.” General Borek’s lip curled. “Yet you remain the only Imperial who has even the slightest chance to learn of the Chosen’s intentions before she acts. I assure you, Sergeant, I would replace you immediately if I thought it was possible. But it is not.” He sighed. “So we will see how you perform. Consider this an opportunity of great importance. Should you do your duty admirably enough, your name will not be forgotten by myself and the army’s upper echelons.” Borek met his eyes. “You are young, Sergeant Mui Thom. You now have caught the interest of a Chosen and the Empire both. What happens in these next few weeks will shape the course of your entire life.” General Borek held his gaze for a few seconds longer, then nodded, looking down at the scrolls he spread on the table before him. “You are dismissed.”

Mui saluted sharply, turning on a heel. As he exited the tent, Sara’s voice ghosted into his ears once more.

“Sorry you got involved in all this shit,” she murmured. She sounded genuinely apologetic, but that was no surprise. Mui knew she could have sworn undying fealty to the cause of a slave-peddling tyrant and seem just as genuine. “It was pretty stupid of me to think that I could keep hanging around you without getting us all tangled up in all this stupid bullshit. It’s my fault.”

As he walked through the pitch-black camp, Mui spoke under his breath, ensuring no one was close enough to see him speaking to himself like a madman.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can. Got a new Level a few days ago and it’s pretty damn good. I’ve got better hearing than Evie, and that means a lot better chain of eavesdropping superpowers. I can hear absolutely everyone in the army, actually. Even people in tents talking in their sleep. Kinda creepy, honestly.”

“It is,” Mui whispered. “As is much of what you’ve revealed yourself to be.”

“Yeah,” Sara said simply. Almost mournfully. Mui expected her to continue, but she said nothing more.

Weaving through tents, cookfires, and all the minutiae of a resting army, it took the better part of a half hour to reach the Tulian portion of the camp. Sara was waiting for him at the edge of the mercenary ‘territory,’ which was now a twenty-pace stretch of unoccupied space. No one wanted to be associated with the Powdered Lead. Seeing Sara watching him at the perimeter with hands on her hips, Mui sighed, accepting that he would be marked as a pariah for crossing the gap into the Powdered Lead camp. He crossed anyway.

“Sorry again,” Sara said as he approached. She clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering him into the light of the fires. Many of the Tulian mercenaries were still up and awake, eating lazily or keeping up a quiet conversation. He didn’t miss that they kept their muskets close, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding Imperials. Sara smiled ruefully. “I think I fucked up, Mui. Sure, I can’t honestly say I regret it, but,” she tilted her head to the empty stretch of road, “I sure as shit wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction. Not one so strong, at least.”

“You killed the Honored Elven,” Mui stated matter-of-factly. “They are the Empire’s wardens. Before your actions, there were a dozen more creatures who had spent thousands of years protecting and guiding the Empire. Now there are a dozen less.”

“They didn’t protect shit,” Sara rumbled.

“Your crime has stained this entire army,” Mui continued, not rising to her argument. “These men and women supported you. Fought beside you. Endeavored to live up to your expectations nearly as much as they did the General’s. And now you have taken their holiest city under assault, brutalized their beloved rulers, and weakened the entire Empire. What did you expect?” Mui was surprised to find his voice rising as he spoke, anger slipping through his grinding jaws.

Sara looked at him. Firelight danced in her eyes, flickering flames surrounding the reflection of Mui’s black-furred silhouette.

“I said I’d tell you the truth, Mui, and I will. So you want to know what I expected?” She shrugged. “That Mayaran would end up dead. That’s it. I didn’t really care about much more than that.”

With slumping shoulders, Mui sighed. He should have expected as much. At the end of the day, Mayaran had threatened the family of Emotion’s Chosen. More critically, Mayaran had threatened the children of Sara Brown. One could no more bemoan what followed such a thing than they could complain that pulling a musket’s trigger had fired the rifle. Once the hammer had begun to fall, there was nothing to be done but pray.

He looked Sara up and down. She wasn’t wearing her armor anymore, but the black, incongruously ugly equipment was still visible in his mind’s eye. The more he had come to know her, the more her countenance seemed wrong outside that unholy suit, rather than when she was wrapped in its nigh-impenetrable skin. Her wife may have been the duelist, but Sara Brown was a woman that thrived on conflict.

“You’re happier, aren’t you?” He asked.

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Now that General Borek detests you. You’re relieved. You’ve apologized to me several times, but you admitted you don’t regret it. I remember what you told me of your old life. You’re used to glaring defiantly at insurmountable powers. To sit at the table alongside them disgusted you. You told me that, too. And now, even when battle is to be joined tomorrow, you’re no longer even welcome to the strategy meeting. A much more comfortable status for you, no?It is what you’re used to.”

Sara glanced around, checking to see if any of the mercenaries had noticed his words. Apparently satisfied, she dropped her voice low.

“Y’know, I wasn’t kidding earlier. If you do decide to get into politics, you’re gonna be a fucking terror. I bet you’d dominate the elections in Tulian. At least in the early years, while people still care about honesty.”

“That is not an answer.”

“See?” She smirked at him. “You’re even good at debating. Keeping me on task, not letting me dodge the question.” Her smile faded slightly. “But yeah. I’m trying not to be, but I’m glad to be kicked out of high society. Goddamn did I hate that shit. When Evie suggested us using a mercenary company as a proxy to involve ourselves in this war, I thought it was going to be great. Fighting to protect Tulian without having to deal with all the extra bullshit?” She snorted. “Sounded amazing. Should’ve known better. I guess I did, but I thought I’d be able to scare off all the fancy bastards. Turned out I couldn’t. Had too many responsibilities and shit. But now?” She stretched her arms over her head, joints popping. The motion did interesting things to her clothes and the figure hidden beneath, but Mui found he wasn’t half as distracted as he once might have been. She dropped her hands with a grunt. “Now? I’m just me. A regular mercenary soldier. I’ll get in the fight, win it, and move on. Only thing that really pisses me off is not having my family here.”

“You are fighting for the sake of your people.” Mui forced his tail to remain still. A pointless habit when he knew hiding his emotions from Sara was impossible, but he persisted. It was the principle of the matter, he supposed. “The force we will engage tomorrow is one that seeks the ruination of your homeland. Do you not care about that?”

Sara’s eyes flashed angrily. “What do you think?”

Mui didn’t shrink away. Instead he put a hand on his belt, looking down and to the side as his thumb ran along the hilt of a knife. “I think… That you are a bubbling, sealed kettle, and you are trying to hide an explosive fury behind constant jokes. I think that General Borek is right to be worried about fighting alongside you. I’m worried, too. You’ve spoken to me of your anger before, so I know there’s a reason you sent Evie in your stead.” He looked up. “I don’t want to be a casualty when you finally lose control, Sara.”

For a single, chilling second, Sara stilled. No— She froze. Her breathing halted, her limbs didn’t so much as twitch, and even her hair stopped reacting to the light breeze, strands of the dark locks failing to fall. It seemed even her heart had stopped beating, as if the world itself had forgotten to animate her flesh. Mui first thought of her illusory selves, assuming he’d actually been speaking to one of them, but realized it couldn’t be. She’d touched him several times. This was something different.

Right as Mui shuddered and began to take a fearful step back, Sara’s motion resumed. The sloping, irreverent half-smile she wore so often fell away, replaced by cold, emotionless stone.

“I’m trying to not let that happen,” she assured him flatly. “But it’s getting harder. An entire country is under attack and it’s my job to save them. I’m not dealing with the stress well.” She tapped her foot, looked away, and then looked back. Her smile had returned, the warmth reentering her body. “But you’re a good guy, Mui. For the most part, I trust your judgement. Maybe not on politics, but plain old face-to-face morality? Yeah, I trust you. I know General Borek wants you to rat on me if I’m about to go ballistic, but you don’t have to do that. Just tell me to chill the hell out and I promise I’ll try my best. How’s that sound?”

Like far too much responsibility for a mere Imperial Sergeant, Mui thought. He swallowed several times, trying to wet his drying throat. Eventually he nodded.

“I will try my best, Sara. So long as you do, too.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

They stood in the midst of the mercenary camp for a while, silent. Eventually Sara looked down and drew the tip of her boot through the dirt, raising an eyebrow.

“So now that Evie and Hurlish are gone, my tent’s been feeling pretty empty—”

“No, Sara.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I figured.” Smiling sadly, she slapped him on the arm. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? We’ve got some wyverns to go fight. Hopefully we can break through their lines in time to stop them from taking off.”

“Hopefully,” he agreed neutrally.

Another silence, this one shorter and more awkward, drifted between them. Eventually Sara turned away, heading for her own tent. Mui slung his pack off his shoulder and found an empty spot, beginning to prepare his own.

As he worked, Mui’s mind kept wandering. He felt close to understanding Sara. She seemed to think he understood her perfectly, as a matter of fact. But, as she herself had once told him, few people knew themselves as well as they did others. And, if their companionship was ever to recover, there were several mysteries around Sara Brown that still needed answering.

Pounding a tent stake into the ground, Mui thought of at least one that could be answered in short enough order. Halting his work, Mui slung his rifle over his shoulder. He set off into the camp, keeping an eye out for the lone green-cloaked guard that he knew would have been left behind after Hurlish’s departure.

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Evie Brown

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The cramped confines of the metal cart echoed with the rhythmic cla-clack cla-clack of wooden wheels trundling over iron rails. The air was musty and damp, causing several of the wounded who were being transported to sneeze or cough. Evie was the only one in the chain of carts who was uninjured. The rest were victims of spellcraft, their wounds more severe than a simple healing potion could resolve. The first day of the war hadn’t seen many offensive spells being used by the enemy, but there had been a few here or there. The suffering, groaning soldiers would be met at the other end of the track by Tulian healers, then they would be put on the next ride back, joining a load of supplies to refresh the North Star Fort’s stocks.

No one had wanted to share a cart with Lady Evie, unsurprisingly. That suited her well enough. She was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, a small light crystal in her right hand, a leather-bound book held in her left. She was reading it carefully, as she had been in every moment she’d been free of her command duties.

The carts creaked and groaned as they entered the basement of the city armory, weight shifting as they were turned aside to loop into a holding line. A number of people were already waiting for their arrival, but aside from brief salutes, they ignored Evie, focusing on helping the wounded out of their carts.

Evie kept the book open as she unfolded herself, moving silently toward the exit. When she’d passed through the armory earlier in the day, she’d been pestered constantly, an unending array of questions thrown her way. Now her presence was barely noticed. It was late, and the soldiers of Tulian were tired. Even those in the city armory, none of whom had been in direct combat, were drooping with exhaustion. The organization, selection, and supply of equipment was a labor unto itself, and they’d been doing so obsessively for many hours. They were still working feverishly in fact, even with red eyes and aching backs. No one had anticipated the city coming under siege so rapidly. The supply situation was chaotic, and it needed to be resolved before the next assault. The few soldiers and officers who noticed Evie either offered a half-hearted salute or, more commonly, nodded at her without stopping their labor. She returned their gestures each time, then went back to her reading.

She emerged into the cool city streets without being stopped or challenged by anyone within the armory. Looking about, she found herself beset by a brief sense of deja-vu. With orders going out to the city for all exterior lights to be extinguished, window curtains drawn, and a strict curfew enforced, there was only darkness. Tulian looked like it had when she and her wives had arrived two years ago: dead. The only distinction between the two eras of the city was the much-improved condition of the buildings and streets.

Evie walked for a time without reading, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim starlight, then flicked the book open again. Her ears kept a careful, sweeping vigil of her surroundings, but her focus was on the text. She was grateful that she didn’t have the frustratingly blind eyes of the non-Feline. It would have been impossible for her to read by starlight alone.

The home that Sara and Hurlish had selected wasn’t far from the central armory. It took her less than ten minutes to arrive, and she barely had to consider her path. It was, of course, near the foundries, and she easily followed the sound of clanking hammers and whirring machinery. Tulian’s industries had long since adopted a three-shift schedule, utilizing their minimal manpower as efficiently as possible, ensuring there was never a time that the steam machinery would be allowed to lose pressure or for the forges to cool.

Evie slipped her book away as she neared the house. She was first challenged by a militia squad blocking off the street, their officer following protocol to identify illusory imposters. Evie called out the day’s code signal, then was allowed to advance. The second challenge came when she turned not toward the foundry, but toward her home. A Tulian Irregular hidden within the dark recess of a second-story window shouted down at Evie, their rifle aimed squarely at her heart. She gave them the evening’s secondary code word, then was allowed forward. As was proper, she didn’t know where the other riflemen were, but she knew there would have been at least four aiming at her, including one with a sawed-off smoothbore musket, just in case she was some creature fast enough to avoid bullets. It was harder by far to dodge the spray of a shotgun.

The third and final challenge to her approach came from something much more direct: the green-cloaked guard standing before the front door of her home. They stared silently at her, yet the small ka-clack of their weapon chambering a round was audible to Evie’s mostly-recovered hearing. For this final challenge, Evie simply drew her Colt Walker from its holster, turning it around so that the guard could see the weapon’s detailing. There were only two kinds of people in all the world who had seen the massive revolver in detail: those that were implicitly trusted by the Brown family, and those Evie had fired the weapon at. She wasn’t concerned about the second group doing much of anything.

Satisfied, the guard stepped aside. Evie nodded her approval of their discipline as she passed, but didn’t speak aloud. She suspected Hurlish, Tahn, and Keo would already be sound asleep, so she didn’t want to risk waking them, no matter how unlikely it was for a quiet exchange of words to do so. With the city under siege, Hurlish would be on edge.

Evie blinked as she entered the home. Her home. She was surprised to find herself thinking of the house as such. She’d only lived here with Hurlish and Sara for a few months. She’d been gone from Tulian nearly as long as she’d lived in the place.

Yet there was a smoldering fire to her left, dull embers warming the remnants of a meal that she could still smell wafting from the cookpot. The wall decorations, mostly exotic weapons Hurlish had smithed or collected, were exactly the same, though they were dulled by a thin layer of dust. There were new additions, too. A pile of clothes in Keo’s size were folded on the dinner table, their dye fresh and the stitching tight. Likely purchased that very day. The guest room door was also shut, she noticed. She assumed Keo had chosen to indulge in the luxury of having an entire room to himself instead of sleeping in the main bedroom with Hurlish. Evie couldn’t blame him. When she’d learned as a girl that the peasantry not only had one bedroom, but often had to share a single bed with their parents, she’d been utterly horrified.

Of course, she reflected, most of those ‘peasants’ had a considerably better relationship with their mother than I did.

As quietly as possible, Evie undid the straps of her breastplate, neatly catching the thick steel as it dropped off her shoulders. She set it on the kitchen table, then began unholstering her pistols, grateful she’d had the foresight to clean them before leaving the North Star Fort. She then removed her belt, satchel, dagger, knife, boot knife, thigh knife, and the razors hidden within her clothes, placing them neatly beside the rest. Out of habit she began to pull her shirt and pants off, but stopped herself, pursing her lips. She couldn’t go around the house undressed now that Keo lived with them. A pity, but there was nothing to be done.

Now dressed only in a shirt and pants, Evie stood before the bedroom door. It was shut, of course. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, licking her lips. Her eyes felt dry for some reason, and she blinked rapidly.

She turned away, slipping her book from the satchel atop the tabletop. She walked over to the sofa before the fire and laid down, putting her back to the dim fire so that she might have a touch more light. Even though her eyes ached, she began to read.

She had no idea how long she was on the couch. Only that she was awoken by the click of an opening door and, shortly thereafter, the low-pitched rumble of a freshly awoken Hurlish.

“The fuck is this?”

Evie’s eyes fluttered open. She turned to look at Hurlish as the massive woman walked up to her.

“I did not want to wake you-”

Hurlish reached down and grabbed the back of Evie’s shirt, lifting her like a cat did its kittens. Evie silenced her yelp as she found herself spun around in her wife’s grip, dangling half a meter off the ground as she was brought to eye level with Hurlish. Her wife’s face scrunched up as thickly-calloused hands plucked the book from Evie’s hands, squinting to read its title in the dark room.

“A Brief Treatise on Consequentialist Ethics And Its Rejection of Virtuist Ideology?” Hurlish quoted aloud, her voice still raspy with sleep.

Evie nodded as she spun lightly in place. “Yes. Considering recent events, I thought it prudent to-”

Hurlish chucked the book across the room hard enough to conjure a spray of sparks from the fireplace it impacted. The fire roared back to life, causing flames to rapidly lick up the pages. Evie winced. That had been one of the University’s precious few Old Tulian books, laboriously hand-scribed in a process that took gods-knew how long. The professors wouldn’t be happy with her.

Hurlish didn’t say anything more as the book was consumed. She simply turned around and stomped back toward the bedroom, carrying Evie with her. While she’d been carried into a bedroom by her wives a great many times before, this occasion didn’t summon up any of the usual arousal it might have in her. She felt only that suffering clenching of her gut once more, a bone-deep anxiety wracking her.

Rather than getting tossed onto the bed, however, Evie found herself dropped in the doorway. It was so unexpected that she stumbled, nearly falling. Hurlish kept walking ahead of her, heading to Tahn’s crib.

“I am sorry-”

“Shush,” Hurlish ordered. Evie’s mouth clicked shut.

Leaning over the crib, Hurlish’s thumb brushed across the crystals set into the wood, deactivating Garen’s protective enchantments. Feeling the crib rock slightly, the boy squirmed, eyes opening. With an adorable babble the pale-green child lifted his hands, squeezing them open and shut in a clear, familiar request to be lifted.

Hurlish did so, giving him a little pat on the back, but when Tahn began hungrily nuzzling into her breasts, her wife did something Evie hadn’t been ready for: setting Tahn on the ground, belly-first.

“Dear…?” Evie whispered.

“Shush.”

Hurlish walked backward until she was standing beside Evie in the doorway. A massive hand fell on Evie’s shoulder, holding her reassuringly.

“Just watch,” Hurlish rumbled.

Evie did. Tahn wriggled back and forth, his precious little baby cheeks showing clear frustration. Evie had to try rather hard to control herself and stay in place. Probably why Hurlish had a hand on her shoulder, she realized. The floor likely hadn’t been cleaned in months, and she hadn’t had a chance to search the home for splinters or nails that might have worked themselves out of the wood, nor ensured that there were no vermin or termites or—

With a determined grunt, Tahn’s palms flattened themselves on the floor, legs spreading a touch. Evie’s tail froze, both ears sweeping forward as she leaned inward, resting her weight against Hurlish’s restraining grip.

Tahn was looking straight at her. Not at Hurlish, but at Evie. She could see his eyes clear as day, and she saw the way he was smiling.

“Oh,” Evie whispered hoarsely. “Oh, oh, oh.”

Tahn began to lift himself up. She’d seen him do that a few times before. Over the last month he’d learned how to go from laying down to sitting, however clumsily. But he wasn’t sitting up this time. His laughably massive ears flicked back and forth, back and forth, and then pressed themselves against his skull. He let out a little babbling giggle and, with a wobbly effort, got up on hands and knees.

“C’mon, Tahn,” Hurlish encouraged softly. “You can do it. Come here.”

Evie nearly leapt across the room when he began to tip forward, but Hurlish kept her pinned in place. A good thing, too, because his left hand came up, catching himself before he could hit the ground.

“Oh!” Evie dropped to her knees, covering her mouth with both hands. “Oh, Tahn. Tahny-Tahn Tahn.”

“Come see Mother,” Hurlish encouraged, dropping to a knee next to Evie. “Mama and Mother want to play with you, but we’re all the way over here, aren’t we?”

Evie was grateful the little angel couldn’t understand her expression quite yet, because the boy was grinning broadly, unbothered by her welling tears. He giggled and put another hand forward, his knees shaking like mad. He wobbled from left to right, his neck barely supporting his head, but he pushed off with his back legs like he was swimming, kicking away.

“Come here,” Evie whispered. She patted her knees quietly but quickly, urgently, unsure if her emotions should be called excitement or desperation. “Come on. You can do it. Of course you can.”

He was all over the place. Tipping left, right, forward and back. He didn’t really seem to know how to coordinate all four limbs at once, but by the gods, he was determined. His adorably gargantuan ears were swept down and to the side in a Feline’s expression of focus, or, as Sara called them, the ‘airplane ears’ Tahn was fond of using when he had decided to be particularly rambunctious. He kept wriggling his legs and putting one hand forward after the other, slowly making progress. And he was smiling the whole way through.

“He’s not even belly-crawling,” Evie whispered. “He’s already on hands and knees. Such a clever, clever boy.”

“Yeah. I bet he got your smarts.”

Tahn made it almost a full meter before he finally tipped over sideways, landing on his side with a peal of laughter. Evie was finally released from Hurlish’s grip, freeing her to launch forward and scoop the boy up in her arms.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she repeated again, squeezing him as tight as she dared. “Oh, Tahn. Look at that. Look at how far you made it!”

If he understood her praise, he didn’t show it. He began pawing at her shirt, making little hungry noises as he impatiently tried to uncover her breasts. Evie hurriedly took him over to Hurlish, handing him over. Hurlish uncovered her breasts, chuckling as he hungrily latched on.

“He started crawling a couple days ago,” Hurlish said. “When you were off in the capital. Haven’t had a chance to show you or Sara. I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“He’s so good at it!” Evie quietly exclaimed, going up on her tiptoes so she could stroke Tahn’s hair while he breastfed. “Professor Brown said that most children start crawling on their stomachs, not standing on all fours.”

“He stayed on his stomach the very first time I saw him do it, but I guess he decided he didn’t like dragging his belly on the floor, cause he started lifting himself up later that same day.” Hurlish patted Tahn’s back as he suckled. “Smart little sucker, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Evie solemnly agreed. “Practical, too. He must have gotten that from you.”

“That or the tusks, I guess.”

Evie followed Hurlish as she went to sit on the bed’s edge, staying close enough to gently stroke Tahn’s hair. When Hurlish’s full weight caused the bed to creak and bend, Evie found herself sliding into the larger woman’s side. Hurlish didn’t stand or otherwise retreat from her touch, for which Evie was profoundly grateful.

Many things were flying through Evie’s mind. She felt compelled to tell Hurlish of the day’s battle, to ask after the state of Tulian’s industry, or, as her most powerful impulse begged her to do, to break down and begin apologizing repeatedly.

But Hurlish wasn’t talking, so Evie wasn’t, either. Eventually Tahn had his fill, lifting away from Hurlish’s breast and blinking tiredly. With an equally tired expression, her wife stood, taking Tahn over to the crib. Evie got up to follow her, but Hurlish shook her head.

“No. Stay there.”

Evie sat back down, that painful sensation in her gut tormenting her once again. She squirmed nervously as Hurlish set Tahn gently in the crib, stroking his head and ears until he fell asleep.

“Dear-” Evie started.

“We already talked about it,” Hurlish interrupted. The floorboards shook as she dropped onto the bed, then she grabbed Evie around the midsection and fell onto her side, taking Evie down with her. Evie found herself in the same old place she’d spent so many nights before: wrapped up in a tight hug, the back of her head between Hurlish’s breasts. With her chin tucked down to press against the top of Evie’s head, Hurlish mumbled straight into her ears. “I’m still pissed. But don’t you ever go thinking you’re gonna sleep on the couch again.” She yawned, squeezing Evie even closer, her voice dropping low. “Been watching… too many of those damn… movies that Sara shows you…”

Evie felt her wife drift into unconsciousness before she could muster a response. She lay there, embraced in warmth, her heart aching. She stared into the darkness, keeping an eye on the soft glow of Tahn’s enchanted crib.

I… is that why I was sleeping on the couch? Evie wondered. Because of the films Sara has shown me?

Hurlish was right, she realized. The cultural artifact of a misbehaving spouse being banished to the couch for an evening wasn’t present in the theatres or other cultural artifacts of Sporatos. It only could have come from the films Sara had shown her— and Evie had unconsciously decided to replicate a trope common to trite, unoriginal romantic comedies.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. All was not well between her and Hurlish. They had the room to themselves (when considering Tahn’s soundproofed crib), hadn’t had sex in five days, and yet Hurlish was asleep. If things had been right, Evie knew she wouldn’t have been allowed to stay dressed once Tahn was returned to his crib.

But… she was still wrapped up in her wife’s embrace. She’d been allowed in her bed, shown their child’s latest milestone, and encouraged to sleep. All was not well, but it was better than it could have been.

Evie peered through the thin slit of sky visible through the window curtains. She hadn’t been sleeping on the couch long, it would seem, because the night was still deep. In order to return to the city’s defense, she would need to be awake at least an hour before sunrise. Normally that would be no concern for her. She’d always excelled at waking up whenever it was needed. But being in her own home, in her own bed, with her wife’s arms around her? Evie was concerned she might actually oversleep. A slim risk, but a real one.

She briefly considered slipping out of the room and instructing the guard below to wake her, or to bring the crystal in the main room close enough to wake her when discussions picked up.

But that would require her slipping out of Hurlish’s grip. Flexible and graceful as she was, there was no way to subtly escape the grip of someone squeezing you like a child did their favored doll. Leaving would most certainly awaken Hurlish. She would not do that.

Evie bowed her head, whispering a quiet prayer to the Shilia, Goddess of Time, begging that she not oversleep. Then she took one last look at Tahn’s crib, allowed her eyes to slowly droop closed, and let exhaustion sweep her into unconsciousness.