When Ana exited Touanne’s there was a dim light in the sky. The street was still entirely in shadow but it was enough to get around, which considering what Tellak had said about people coming and going all night should mean early morning. That was a relief. She’d lost entire days to recovery before, and she’d rather not repeat the experience more often than absolutely necessary.

  There was blood on the street. Four bodies lay along the wall of the opposite building, hacked and burned. Jisha had mentioned that someone blew a hole in the door and that she’d fought them off together with Tellak and Jancia; someone had taken the time to put the bodies in something resembling dignified order, but clearly no one had time to collect them yet.

  Inside of Touanne’s, the table shifted back into place as Ana set off toward the square. She was stiff where her injuries were still healing, enough to give her a small limp, but she had an eager energy in her; a kind of lingering excitement that came with having won against unlikely odds. And with Messy and Jisha safely barricaded in Touanne’s, she felt very little worry about possible left-over enemies.

  She gave her sword a test swing, as quick as she could. The blade blurred from one end of the arc to the other, slicing the cool morning air with not a swish, but a satisfying high-pitched whistle.

  Maybe I should get a new sword, she mused. A fuck-off huge one.

  There were four places she wanted to check on: the temple, the guardhouse, Petra’s, and the stockade. There were many more she should check on, but she only had so much time. She realized pretty much immediately, however, that she’d get stuck at the square for a while; from the distant sound of it, there was quite a crowd there.

  Ana quickly recognized the outer layer of people as members of the disbanded militia, mostly from among the conscripted non-combat Classers and volunteers. They stood with their backs to the Waystone with a mix of melee and ranged weapons ready, keeping a varying number of eyes on the streets that fed into the square.

  Among those watching down Main Street were Braggie the Barmaid and Sadie the Courtesan, who were both quick to start waving and calling excitedly to her. That, of course, set off a wave of murmurs, and necks craned to catch a look of her. Ana did her best to ignore it.

  “Gods, it’s good to see you both are alright,” Ana told the two young women. She only saw Sadie at her martial arts classes, and she’d barely seen Braggie at all since the Battle of the White Obelisk, but it seemed like the thing to do. “What’s happening here?”

  “They’re locking down the Waystone!” Sadie said, with an excitement as though she were sharing a juicy piece of gossip. “The captain— Captain Pirta, I mean — ordered it!”

  “It’s good to see you well, too, Miss Anastasia” Braggie said solemnly. The valkyrian woman looked far more shaken than her friend. “We heard you were laid up at Mistress Touanne’s.”

  “Oh, right, yeah, good to see you up! Is it—” Sadie surged forward, until her face was only inches from Ana’s. “Is it true you killed an Ascender?” Her breath smelled like a pine forest after a fresh summer rain. Must be an Ability or something, Ana thought.

  “I fought him and won, yeah,” Ana whispered back, channeling just a little bit of Stacy to match Sadie’s energy. “But you know what’s really going to blow your mind?”

  “What?!”

  “Messy’s the one who actually killed him.”

  Sadie’s eyes went huge, and she covered her mouth with the hand that she wasn’t using to hold her spear.

  “Is she okay?” Braggie asked, taking over for her speechless friend. “I heard she got hurt too.”

  “She got hurt pretty bad, yeah,” Ana said, reverting to her normal voice. “But she’s going to be fine. Thank the gods for Touanne.”

  “Lifegiver bless her,” Braggie agreed solemnly.

  Sadie still hadn’t recovered when Ana moved on, moving further into the square. If the armed throng, and then Sadie and Braggie’s explanation, hadn’t been enough to tip her off that something was going on, the mana in the air would have. Ana had felt movements in the ambient mana before; the wild, directionless whipping of a collapsing Delve, and the gentle inward movement toward the Waystone that accompanied a delivery of goods. What she felt as she passed through the crowd, which parted for her with looks of awe and reverence, was more like a storm — a whirlwind of mana that seemed to spin around and around the black obelisk without ever reaching it.

  At a distance from the Waystone, about the same as when they opened it to receive a delivery, stood Mistress Thair the Summoner. She looked worn and pale, and her dress had a long cut along the side, everything below it dark with dried blood. Ana wondered if she should really be on her feet, much less doing anything strenuous. With her were eleven other mages. Together they stood evenly spaced in a dodecagon with the Waystone at its center, and on the cobbles before their feet was a massive ritual circle, not drawn but carved into the cobbles, runes glowing as the mages pushed mana into them.

  Closing the Waystone. That was going to have consequences, especially since it had only been stable again for a few weeks. Ana watched in silent contemplation for several minutes before fending off attempts at conversation became too draining. With the excuse that she had to speak with Mamtass and give thanks to her patron, Ana steered for the temple doors. They stood halfway closed during daylight for the first time that Ana could remember, but opened as easily as anything under her strength.

  This time, when she stepped over the threshold and into one of the Wayfarer’s spaces between moments, she was ready for it. What she hadn’t expected was for nothing except the sound of the crowd and the mana in the air to change.

  “Almost three weeks since you last visited me,” the Wayfarer said, her voice wry with amusement. “A less confident goddess might think you were trying to avoid her.”

  “I am. I thought that was obvious,” Ana shot back, turning to face the goddess. The Wayfarer stood on the square between the temple and the Waystone, facing the obelisk and wearing what Ana could best describe as a loose green tunic, rich brown trousers that ballooned at the ankles, and a pair of moccasins in a green that matched her sweater. It was an oddly casual look compared to the rough traveller’s garb or armor she’d seen her patron in before.

  “You wound me,” the Wayfarer said, turning so they could look each other in the eye. “And after I helped your sweetheart stay alive, too. Do you know how much it cost me to put my finger on the scale to get her a Class a full Tier above what she was entitled to?”

  Ana rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that keeping me alive was totally incidental.”

  “Entirely!” the Wayfarer said, breaking into a broad grin. “Now that I’ve got Jisha, I was thinking of trading you in for a newer model, anyway.”

  “Oh, you’ve ‘got her’, do you?” Ana said, meeting the goddess’ grin with a lopsided smile of her own.

  “She certainly comes to the temple more often than you.” The Wayfarer put her nose in the air in mock hurt. “Must come with her not having all your hangups about religion.” Then she faced Ana again and said, more seriously, “Though you do come by them honestly. And I was glad to help your girl. I would’ve been furious to lose either of you after you killed a gods-damned Ascender at your Levels.”

  “And I’m glad that you did,” Ana said seriously. “Truly. Thank you. I guess she got an Ascension Point and used it?”

  “She did. She reset, made herself a Fighter, and used her Point to get a higher-Tier Class. With her Skills and fighting style she should have become a Bravo, but, like I said, I put my finger on the scale. Duelist was perfect for her, especially with your Abilities backing her. So what if it’s a Master Tier Class? I wasn’t cheating too badly; she is one of my faithful — mostly — and she was praying as she used her Ascension Point. Besides, it’s not like the Sentinel isn’t cheating his overly polished arse off, messing with the Delves and helping his Summoners and Binders.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Is that how that Ascender and his goons got in?”

  “Surprisingly, no,” the Wayfarer said, turning back to the Waystone. “That was a combination of arrogance, effort, and good old-fashioned treason. When I say effort, though, I mean it. They didn’t even go in from Ellsthal, the primary connection point for this Waystone. For them to open a connection and bring over that many people in the middle of a cycle, well… That Ascender, Summerland, must have forced an enormous amount of mana through their Waystone. Him along with several high-Level Summoners, I’d wager. At least he would have been practically exhausted when you fought him, the arrogant prick.”

  “That was him exhausted?!” Ana could barely believe what she was hearing. “He was dragging me along like a puppet on a string until he asked the wrong thing!”

  “He was. And he would have broken free of that fancy wrestling move of yours and killed you if your beloved Mestendi hadn’t broken free of his influence and stabbed him in the heart. I can only assume that she believes, in the depths of her soul, that you winning is an immutable part of the basic order of Existence. But yes, that was him exhausted. Only Ascension Level 3, too. You don’t expect to be able to reliably take on people three times your Level, do you?”

  Ana hadn’t. She knew that it would be a ridiculous expectation, and she tried to be realistic. But with the way the goddess phrased the question she felt suddenly defensive, so she crossed her arms and said, “It’s worked out so far.”

  “Against people with Journeyman- or Master-Tier Classes, and against those who’ve fatally underestimated you, my dear angel. You should expect the Sentinel’s agents to be more careful in the future.” Then she feigned some deep consideration, and said, “Or not. They do tend to be arrogant and overconfident.”

  “‘Arrogant’,” Ana quoted. “That’s what you called… what did you say his name was? Summerland? And I agree. Looks like he threw a bunch of lives away, his own included, for nothing. The militia disbanded when we got back, but through the Sentinel he must have known that the outpost is still practically an armed camp. You people can talk to your Ascenders, right?”

  “‘You people’?”

  “Gods, whatever,” Ana said dismissively, sure that she was walking an extremely fine line between banter and offending an actual deity who had very real and immediate power over her — something she definitely did not want to do. She remembered the horrible feeling of the Wayfarer commanding her to be silent, and her mouth simply no longer being her own. Yet, she was unable to help herself. There was something irresistible about trying to wind the goddess up, seeing where the boundaries were — in effect, exerting some small amount of power over someone who was close enough to all-powerful. The lingering high of victory certainly didn’t do her any favors, either.

  “Yes,” the Wayfarer said, rolling her eyes as though she knew exactly what Ana was thinking — for all Ana knew, she did. “‘Us people’ can talk to our Ascenders, and with his remaining faithful here the Sentinel should know much of what’s going on. But that doesn’t mean that a fairly newly minted Ascender, seeing trouble in his own guild, wouldn’t decide to ignore all warnings and try to stomp it out. For glory and favor with his god, I imagine. Void knows I did similar things more than once during my rise. With the somewhat significant difference that I did so competently.”

  “And instead of accomplishing anything he came here for — killing me and anyone who knew the curing ritual — he failed completely. Plus, he lost his life and put us on high alert.” Ana snorted. “Serves him fucking right.”

  “It does,” the goddess said then frowned. “Though his failure wasn’t quite as complete as you might have liked.”

  Ana’s spiteful cheer drained away in an instant. “What? What did they do?”

  “Your prisoners. They attacked the stockade, broke it open, and took to the woods with most of the cultists and the other rabble.”

  Ana was silent for a long moment. Then she took a long, steadying breath as her frustration and the red-hot fury that accompanied it almost bubbled to the surface. She wanted to rage, to lash out at something, but with no outlet that wouldn’t get her turned into a puppet she seized her anger in an iron grasp, twisted it into a knot, and stored it away for later.

  “Most of them?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “Yes. Most. Some of the guards took a terribly dim view of anyone trying to escape custody. Not everyone made it to the trees.”

  “Good riddance,” Ana muttered. “So what I’m hearing is that we’ve got rogue mages and traitors in the forest at a time that the Waystone is going to be closed and the farms are in ruins — meaning we’ll be relying on hunting and gathering again.”

  “Unfortunately. Sorry to ruin your good mood.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find some way to vent,” Ana said grimly. “Anything else I need to know before I go back?”

  “Probably, but I can’t think of everything, and there are things I can only tell you if you ask me. But I do have one piece of advice that might help. A pointer, really.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, indeed. It’s about your Shaping.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “You’re too damn vain,” the goddess said, with the attitude of someone stating objective fact.

  Ana blinked. She was sure that she’d heard right, she just found it hard to believe. “Excuse me?”

  The Wayfarer repeated herself patiently. “You’re too damn vain, Ana.”

  “Setting aside just how much I damn well am not, what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything, my dear little pixie of an angel! You’ve been trying to work out why you can’t make yourself heavier? Well, there’s your answer. Ironskin came easily to you, because it fits your image of yourself as being tough as hell. Don’t bother denying it; I’ve heard the songs you sing to yourself in your head. Being made of metal, being unstoppable or indestructible?”

  Ana couldn’t stop herself from blushing. So what if she indulged in some self-pep sometimes? That wasn’t any jumped-up fairy’s business!

  “So, Ironskin fits your image of yourself perfectly,” the jumped-up fairy said, taking on a lecturing tone. “So does making yourself lighter.”

  “That’s—!” Ana began hotly. A single finger in the air from the currently all-powerful jumped-up spirit stopped her. She’d had her mouth and throat shut off once before — she’d rather not experience that again.

  “Please don’t insult both of us by denying it. You may not have had any romantic drive to speak of, but you enjoy being desired, and you have a host of culturally driven notions about what that means. You like being a deceptively powerful little thing. You complain about how inconvenient it is, and lament the fact in the heat of battle, but then that lovely elfin lady of yours picks you up and—”

  “Okay!” Ana interrupted, face burning. “She has a name, you know? And could you at least pretend that you can’t see everything I do?”

  “I’m sure that she does. It certainly passes your lips often enough. And seeing and watching are very different things for a deity, as are hearing and listening, if that helps,” the goddess said dryly. “My point was that for all its disadvantages, you enjoy being small. Or, at the very least, it’s central to how you see yourself. And you cannot alter yourself, or do any magic, in a way that goes against your beliefs. Why do you think kindness and empathy are so central to healing? Alter your perception of yourself, and you’ll find much more success.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ana had to fight herself to look the goddess in the eye. The Wayfarer’s tone hadn’t been at all judgmental, but Ana’s experience with authority figures commenting in any way on her love life was pretty much restricted to being called an abomination and a harlot while being beaten until she couldn’t stand anymore. It was the kind of thing that had stayed with her. “Anything else?”

  “Hmm… no, I think not. I would tell you that you don't have to make the escapees your own responsibility, but I doubt it would do any good. So instead I’ll just ask you to be careful, and wish you the best of luck.” Then she smiled. “And give my best to Mestendi.”

  “Oh, so you do—”

  “— know her name!”

  Ana finished her snark back in the real temple, in the face of a very confused Sahna. The frequent volunteer attendant was in the middle of startling awake and didn't look like she had much idea what was going on, but she must have been on high alert until she dozed off. The spear pointing Ana’s way, which Sahna dropped in shock and horror, certainly suggested as much.

  “Oh! Oh goddess, forgive me!” Sahna squeaked. “Chosen, I am so sorry! Please, I didn't—”

  “Calm down,” Ana said firmly, locking eyes with the woman. Sahna immediately froze for long enough for Ana to tell her, “Breathe. You’re fine. I’m not going to blame you for being careful after the night we’ve had.” Then she smiled wryly and glanced down at the dropped weapon. “Might want to work on your grip, though.”

  Sahna’s eyes followed Ana’s down, and with a gasp she knelt to snatch her spear up off the floor. “Sorry, Chosen!” she said again. “I swear, I did fine in the line, I was just so surprised to see you that—”

  “Breathe, Sahna! Again, you're fine. And it’s safe out there now. The square’s full of friendly people. You can relax.” She waited for Sahna’s breathing to slow down before continuing, “Have you had much trouble here?”

  “Ah, no, Chosen! Thankfully not. I guess the temple wasn't a priority for them.”

  “So they weren't looking to murder just any innocent people, just specific ones. Good to know,” Ana said flatly.

  Curious people began to emerge from deeper inside the temple. Their whispers echoed softly, amplifying exclamations of “It's the Chosen!” or “It’s Mistress Cole!” or just, in one case, “Oh, thank goodness, Ana’s alright!”

  Sahna fidgeted and said, “Um, Chosen— Miss Cole. Is it true what they said? Was there an Ascender among them?”

  “Yeah. ‘Was’ being the operative word, there. He was dead five minutes after setting foot in our Splinter.”

  The situation quickly escalated to uncomfortable levels of adulation after that, and Ana quickly made it clear that she was only there to make sure everyone was okay, then asked Sahna to give her best to Mamtass once the priest woke and left.

  She considered using her wings to avoid the similarly starstruck crowd that was waiting in the square for her to come out. She decided against it, instead skirting around the outside of the throng best she could, and answering questions curtly or not at all, blaming her hurry to speak with Captain and Marra Falk. She was almost all the way to the guardhouse before someone actually listened and told her, “Oh, you won’t find them there! They’ll be at the stockade, most likely.”

  Ana turned to thank the speaker — who turned out to be Merv, the cobbler who’d sold her her first pair of boots in the Splinter — and then set off for Petra’s inn.

  and read 8 chapters ahead of both Splinter Angel and Draka! You also get to read anything else I’m trying out — which is how Splinter Angel got started.

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