“So, Jorge, what's our plan here?” I asked as we huddled around a crackling fire at the mouth of a cave, nestled half-way up a frozen cliff face. I’d had to borrow Vera’s storage pouch to store the wood that I scavenged in the valley below. Jorge’s was sentimental and I understood he never let it out of his grasp, and Sadrianna was strangely reluctant to let me use hers as well. Not for fear of me running off with it – where would I go? – but I got the sense she was embarrassed about some of the contents and didn’t want me snooping. Totally fair, even if it’s not something I would have done.

  “Keep her out for a day or two, fix up her arm, give her some supplies and send her on her way? Is she just a stranger in need? And how long will that set us back?” I said, letting the questions fall into the quiet left by the howling wind outside.

  Vera and Jorge exchanged a glance and then looked over at Nathlan. “Aye, that's one possibility,” he hedged.

  “What's the other possibility then?” I asked. “You say that as if there is another option. What, are you thinking of recruiting her?”

  I’d said it in jest, but it wasn’t actually a crazy thought once I’d considered it. If nothing else, she was a capable warrior with few ties to anyone now that she’d been exiled, and we were currently in the process of saving her life. Assuming she understood that and could be trusted, she could be useful.

  Nathlan wouldn't be happy with it, but if he was to come round to the idea he would need time, and that wouldn’t be possible if we only discussed the idea with him once she woke several days hence. This was a conversation that needed to be had out loud, in person, right now preferably. Perhaps the fluffy ball of cuteness in his arms would help him stay calm?

  Jorge sighed and Vera slapped him on the arm in encouragement as he turned to Nathlan.

  “Well, it's obviously up to her, and before that it's up to you, lad, but I think it's likely she will want to join us…I don’t think it would be a mistake to let her.”

  Nathlan scrunched his face up in distaste. “Why would she want to join us?” He asked, and Jorge shrugged.

  “Other than the fact that she's been stalking us for at least a few days now and seemed to know exactly who we were? Other than the fact that she’s been exiled from the clans and has nowhere to go? That she’s clearly not able to cope on her own out here?” He gave a sardonic grin as he listed off his reasons. “Well, I think she's looking for purpose, she's looking for belonging, she's looking for meaning and a mission…we have all of that in spades.

  “We're not affiliated with her clan, though we have met them and are familiar with their ways. We are all more powerful than her, even you, and so she probably looks up to us in some way. We can offer her purpose and training and a goal. And those are all things that she lacks at the moment.”

  Nathlan had at least let him finish, and seemed to consider the words, though I got the impression his first question had been mostly rhetorical. He asked the one he really wanted an answer to next. “I can understand all of that. Why would we want her with us?”

  “Well lad,” Jorge began “and again, I want to make it clear this is a choice that is ultimately up to you. None of us will judge you for not wanting her with us. That goes for everyone here – you all get a vote. You're all well within your rights to demand we leave her here in a mess of her own making, though I will be patching her up and making sure she has a chance of survival before we leave – that’s just how it is.”

  He held Nathlan’s gaze then, and nodded when he saw no argument to that last statement.

  “The reason we might want her with us is because she's a powerful 1st tier warrior. It's possible we could even get her to break through to the 2nd tier and gain a few levels before we reach the Sunsets, though that will depend as much on her as us. We will need strong fighters in the coming battle, lad, and while she might be a bit of a bastard, she definitely is stronger than your average Crimson Lion, aye?”

  I nodded, unable to disagree with the sentiment after how easily I’d carved through Shavkat and Sven – though I’d had the element of surprise for both – and how much I’d struggled against Jacyntha. I saw conflicting emotions pass over Nathlan’s face, and spoke up to give him a bit more time to get his thoughts in order.

  “I don’t like the idea of helping her break through the 2nd tier. It’s one thing when she’s clearly the weakest of the group, but if she is on par with myself and Nathlan, possibly even stronger…well, trust suddenly becomes a little harder to find, right?”

  Jorge listened but shook his head in response. “No, lad, no danger of that. Her empowerment has come at a cost – one more severe now that she knows the source, I imagine – if the rumours are true, that is. Anyhow, she’ll not rival you two in power unless you both slack off for a month…”

  He narrowed his eyes dangerously at me then. “You’re not planning on slacking off, are you, lad?”

  I just punched him in the shoulder. “Not now, you old git,” I said, gesturing at Nathlan. “I believe you’ve got some more explaining to do, too – my friend here doesn’t seem convinced.”

  Jorge smiled tiredly and squatted down on his haunches, rubbing some dirt between his hands and looking more closely at the little creature snoring away on Nathlan’s lap, small ears twitching and snout wriggling as if it scented something in a dream. The Cat-Bear had curled up on top of Jacyntha in her sled for the entire afternoon’s travel, until we’d setup camp in the little cave we currently inhabited, at which point it’d designated Nathlan as its slave, and ordered him to sit by the fire and cuddle it.

  He might not have my God-Touched title and preternatural linguistic comprehension it brought, but he seemed to have no trouble deciphering the mewling cries for what they were – demands for attention.

  “There’s all the practical reasons I mentioned a moment ago, but the next one is a bit more selfish. Put simply; I dislike leaving young, broken people on their own when I can help. You and Vera and Lamb are all beneficiaries of that instinct. And while I wouldn't call it an insatiable drive, it is a way I try to live my life. Call it a personal failing of mine, if you like, lad.

  “I wouldn’t feel right abandoning that instinct, though my responsibilities and friendship with you I hold higher than that ideal. And I do understand why you might prefer to leave her here. It wasn’t me that she wronged, after all.”

  “So, let's use just another body to throw at our enemies? That’s you’re argument? Combined with, what? Some pity?” The words were scathing and harsh, and I nearly recoiled at the venom in them. Obviously Nathlan was not quite as at peace with this whole situation as I had originally thought.

  Jorge didn’t seem surprised though, and Vera placed a big hand on my friend’s shoulder, understanding seeping through that limb in a nearly physical sense.

  “Well, it certainly helps that I met her father and let me tell you Nathlan – if you think Jacyntha’s a cunt…well, she’s got nothing on Hastor. Surprised she turned out so mild-mannered, truth be told, with him raising her an all.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jorge hesitated at the venomous glare that Nathlan was shooting at him, and then plunged forward once more, reassuring and calm. “Look, she hurt you, I get that. Nothing we can do to change that, and you’ve bounced back stronger. No thanks to her, I know, I know!” he hurried to concede, before he carried on. “…but the point is – she is at her lowest, and you – we – are higher than ever. We’ll continue to grow stronger, and there’s nothing she can do to sabotage that.”

  “Other than murdering us in our sleep? Poisoning our food? Breaking my fucking leg again!?” Nathlan hissed, but then abruptly sat back as the kitten mewled in its sleep and snuggled tighter into him.

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed. He shot a glare my way, but it only made me laugh harder, and it took a few breaths before I could control myself once more. I straightened to see everyone looking at me askance, and chuckled as I explained myself. “Sorry, sorry. It’s a serious moment and all that, but just seeing your face go from angry to staring down at the little kitten with googly, lovestruck eyes got me. Nathlan, mate…you’re still pouting!”

  He grimaced, but I could see the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Look, there are some misgivings about recruiting her – I get it, and I share a few of them myself,” I interjected. “But we agree we need to get her fixed up, and besides, if we tried to leave this cute little thing here now, I think Nathlan would probably kill us and use our corpses as a palanquin for his little friend there.” Vera snorted at that, and Nathlan nodded seriously at me, causing Jorge to smirk too.

  “Let’s get her fixed up, and maybe check over the little runt too – been wanting to call someone else that for months now! – and discuss this again in the morning. Agreed?” I asked, looking around at my companions. “Also, let’s not forget that this is all contingent on both her wanting to join us, and her understanding that what she did was utterly fucked, and if she tries anything similar in future, we’ll just kill her, yeah?”

  A chorus of agreement, and I watched Nathlan carefully. I didn’t want to deny him the right to his anger, but I suspected he needed a bit more time to think through the consequences and come up with the real questions he needed asking.

  I woke to a whispered argument. Jorge and Vera were going back and forth in low voices, and I shifted slowly so as not to disturb them, until I could see their backs. They sat together looking off down the valley, hands wrapped around steaming mugs and voices low.

  I’d only woken in the middle of the conversation, but it didn’t take long to figure out the missing context.

  “I still don’t like it, Jorge,” Vera said quietly. “She can’t be trusted.”

  “Aye, but that was true of each of us at one point in time,” He replied.

  “Nathlan never tried to kill or cripple one of us!” she hissed, “Neither did Lamb. This is reckless.”

  “I seem to remember you taking a swing at one point in time,” he said, and I could visualise the slight smile and raised eyebrow that no doubt accompanied the words. “You settled down in the end.”

  Vera shifted, turning his way a little more, and I froze, worried she would see me out of the corner of her eye and know that I broke their privacy. The danger was enough to have me stay in place for long moments until she moved once more, but not enough to make me stop listening.

  “We don’t have time, Jorge! Duke Ryonic is even now moving on an Ashkanian-fucking-vault. You know what that means, probably better than I do! Even now he’s-”

  “He’s doing nothing, Vera. He doesn’t have a God-Touched to open it up, otherwise he wouldn’t have his Lions on high-alert for any in the area, and Lamb wouldn’t have been nabbed like the little dumbass that he is.”

  I frowned at that, but it was said with affection. At least, I thought it was. Jorge’s heavy brogue could make just about anything sound friendly when combined with his likely skill-enforced charisma, so perhaps he was just an ass. Unlikely though. Besides, with the benefit of hindsight it had been pretty dumb to go sneaking off right after a fight like I had in Colchet. Pretty dumb even in the moment too, let’s be honest.

  I ignored the traitorous little voice in my head and continued listening as Jorge reassured Vera.

  “We still don’t know how he’s getting his information, but it’s clear he was still searching, at least as recently as Colchet which was, what? 6 weeks ago?”

  “And what if he’s found someone new in the meantime? What then, Jorge?” she retorted. “We just sit here, twiddling our thumbs while we take another injured bird under our wing, letting her recover and train and learn and grow and all the while, my fucking people are starving and dying under the hands of a tyrant!”

  She was nearly hissing at the end, and Jorge laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. I recalled the frustration I’d felt bubbling within me while out hunting for Frost-Wargs a few days before and had a sudden burst of sympathy for Vera. She’d waited while Nathlan recovered. Perhaps not exactly patiently, but she had waited. Then when we’d finally set off, she’d allowed us to take our time, earning experience and training ourselves – Nathlan and myself, primarily – instead of rushing as fast as possible through the Dragon-Spines, and all of this without complaint.

  Then the woman who was the very cause of Nathlan’s delay turns up and begs for help before passing out at our feet, and we were once again beset with more delays.

  “Aye, fair point. But it will only delay us a few days, and the possible benefits outweigh the slight delay, in my mind. She’s strong, Vera. Not as much as Nathlan or Lamb, perhaps, but strong nonetheless. I know we’re aiming to get some help from some of your lads that stayed home, but you know better than me that the pickings will be slim. Even now, she’s likely worth at least a few of the Lions, let alone the house guard. The Duke and his elites will be for you and I to deal with, but who’ll handle the rest?”

  “That’s my point though – one or two people won’t make a lick of difference either way if this comes to an open battle,” Vera whispered, voice now controlled again. “We’ll more than likely be sneaking into the lion’s den – pardon the pun – and a 1st tier, no matter how exceptional, won’t be much help with that when the chaos sets in. Fuck, how are we even going to do this, Jorge?”

  Vera sounded weary by the end, her anger spent and hopelessness creeping into her voice. Jorge laid a hand on her shoulder, the gesture so natural it seemed he had done so a thousand times before.

  “We’ll find a way, lass. Something big is coming, I can feel it. There’s a shift, Vera. ‘The Al’Sazine are on the move’” he quoted, and a memory of a craggy face with eyes of swirling ink backlit against the rolling clouds of the Wandering States filled my mind as I heard the words. “In many ways, I wonder if a few days delay might help us in this…”

  “You can’t know that, Jorge. I know you can’t time things that well. It’s all guess work in the end, and we both know that you’re gone the moment the Tree stirs” she said bitterly.

  “Not quite, Vera. But yes, we can’t time things so precisely. Nevertheless, I think you’ll have more support than you expect should my suspicions come to pass. The lads are-”

  He cut off abruptly as my bedroll shifted against the rock below me and made a small scraping sound. I cursed inwardly, having tried to adjust my position minutely. Thinking fast, I coughed and snored before rolling over onto my side, letting the snore taper off slowly over the course of several breaths.

  For a while the only sounds I could hear were that of my own breathing, the hot embers letting out the occasional hiss and crackle as an errant snowflake was blown in through the mouth of the cave to dissolve in the fire’s softly burning glow.

  “Look lass, that young girl’s got rage inside her enough to match your own, if I had to guess. Hastor was a prick, and apparently killed his own wife. I’ve not seen an empowerment ritual used like that for many, many years – not particularly effective in the end beyond a small short-term boost – but I’d bet tarrots to toenails that her mother’s life was the one used to power it. If she knows that already...well, you can well understand the anger. Surprised that it seems to have brought her clarity about her own actions though.”

  “No, Jorge, I don’t find that surprising in the least,” Vera replied quietly, her voice turning introspective. “Anger is most often aimed at the self, and is only sent outwards when one is too weak to accept its judgement.”

  I heard him pat her on the knee, as he rose, biting back a groan but not quite silencing it. I smiled to myself to hear it – he was so dramatic he’d fooled even himself.

  “I’ll leave you to think it over, Vera. She needs some guidance though, and you’re the one to give it if you can stomach it. 3 more weeks and we’ll be coast-bound on a river vessel, long as the weather holds. We've got till then to figure things out. I’ll be getting some rest now.”

  It took a long while for sleep to claim me after I heard the rustle and slither of Jorge settling down. I had no frame of reference, but my mind raced for what felt like at least a bell, turning over the implications of what I’d heard.

  Something was coming. I thought of the Subakir’s words; ‘not my turn’, ‘Don’t fear the turning of the seasons’. The giant’s unfathomable face and voice like the grinding of a rockslide.

  Thoughts swirling, sleep eventually wrapped me in its confusing embrace before I heard Vera move.