Petra’s was, as Ana had expected, almost but not entirely empty. Petra was there, and Mikkel stood behind the counter with a crossbow ready. Besides them there were two sober, vigilant men at one solitary table whom Ana recognized from the militia but couldn’t name. She waved. They waved back. Otherwise, there was no one.

  “No trouble here,” Petra said. She was in her armor and had taken up a post near the door, her hammer near at hand. “I was out with some others on Cross Street for most of the night, but only a handful came our way, and they turned back as soon as they saw us. Haven’t heard much since the call went out, either. What’s the situation out there?”

  “They’re closing the Waystone, apparently,” Ana said. “Mistress Thair and a bunch of mages are doing it right now, with half the militia guarding them.”

  Petra’s eyes widened. Then she slumped back in her chair, and sighed heavily. “There go my damn deliveries,” she said. “And the brewery’s going to be shut, too. Can’t spare the grain. Damn it! We’ll be on mead and birch wine until the cycle ends!”

  “Uh… right.” That had not even been on the list of Ana’s concerns, but fair enough. An innkeep would worry about different things. “They broke the prisoners out of the stockade, too. And some of them went after Touanne—”

  “Oh, gods! Is she—?”

  “She’s fine. Telly, Jancia, and Jisha were there. But they’ll have gone after some of the other mages, too. Killing anyone who knows the curing ritual was one of their goals. Their damn Ascender told me as much.”

  “Ascender?!” Petra was out of her chair in a moment, her hands on Ana’s shoulders. “There’s an enemy Ascender out there?! Firekeeper preserve us, Ana, what are they doing closing the Waystone?”

  “Settle down, Petra!” Ana said, taking the innkeeper’s hands off her shoulders and clasping them. “It’s—”

  “No, Ana, I know you’re new, but this— We should be talking about evacuating the noncombatants! We need to—”

  “Petra!” Ana said sharply, and the older woman fell silent. “It’s alright. He’s dead. Messy and I killed him.”

  “Killed—?” Petra searched Ana’s face for any sign that she was joking, or exaggerating, or that she meant anything except what she’d said. “You killed an Ascender?”

  “Yeah. According to the Wayfarer he must have blown out his mana channels getting them in here, or something. Told me he was new, too. Newly Ascended, I mean. Some arrogant prick named Summerland.”

  Petra paled. “Summerland? Summerland?!”

  “That’s what she said, yeah.” Ana leaned back an inch. The innkeeper’s reaction to that name told her, if not everything she needed to know, then at least that this was bad, bad news.

  “Aw, fuck!” Petra spat. “And you killed him? You need to talk to the captains right the hell now.” She started pushing Ana toward the door. “FUCK! There’s got to be some way of keeping this quiet.”

  “Petra!” Ana said, allowing herself to slowly be led into the street. “Details! Please! Who was this Summerland guy?”

  “Only goddamn Bluesky royalty! As far as any guild has it, anyway. City I’m from, Castra, it’s in Summerland, alright? The family and the region have the same damn name. That should tell you everything you need to know about how big of a gods-damn deal they are!”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Shit,” Petra said, stopping. They were in the street by then. “A man, right?”

  “Yeah. Tall, skin a bit lighter than yours, probably would’ve been pretty damn handsome if he wasn’t such a prick. Looked young-ish, but with Vitality, who knows?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be the younger brother. Marton, Martel, something like that. If his sister finds out…”

  Ana got a deeply unpleasant gut feeling at that. “She’s an Ascender, too?”

  “Yeah. That family’s got the money to just buy their kids to 50, easy. Not a small investment, even for them, but if the younger brother Ascended, too, then it paid off. They’re going to be pissed. Never mind you killing one of their family, that’s a… I don’t even know, a twenty-thousand gold investment you’ve cost them maybe, at the rates in the Primes?”

  “At least that explains why he went down so easily,” Ana said. “All Attributes, probably low Skills and little real experience. Probably had a lower-Tier Class, too.” She frowned at the thought. It made her victory feel cheap, somehow, which she knew was insane. If he’d made it to Level 50 and Ascended the hard way, she doubted she would’ve survived.

  It was hypocritical, too, and she recognized that as well. It wasn’t like she was struggling noticeably, either.

  “Maybe,” Petra said. “I remember there was a big fair the week after he was born, so he’d be… four years younger than me, perhaps? Plenty of time to get your Skills up, if you take it seriously.”

  Ana shook her head. “I’m pretty familiar with spoiled rich kids,” she said. “I’d be surprised if this guy had ever been in anything resembling an even fight in his life.”

  “Yeah, be that as it may, it’s his sister you need to worry about. I knew this guy existed, but that was about it. No one I exchange letters with ever even mentioned he Ascended. Serene, his sister, though, she’s dangerous. She’s got a reputation. The sooner you talk to the captains and put a lid, some heavy-duty chains, and a lock on this, the better your chances of surviving beyond the end of the cycle. The Summerlands have a permanent seat on the guild council. Bad enough we won’t be able to hush up the presence of an Ascender completely, but we may be able to keep it out of any reports. You can’t let his name show up, though, understand? Especially not connected to you or Messy!”

  Petra, normally steady and nearly unflappable, looked on the edge of losing it. Ana couldn’t help but think that, not having grown up in this world, she was missing a lot of context. She’d been told that Ascenders were terrifying, but the one she’d met had died like a punk. It didn’t exactly fill her with concern to hear that he had an older sister. She knew, intellectually, that it should, but she was far more worried about the politics of the situation. This Summerland guy was, if she understood correctly, pretty much a prince. She’d killed the son of a ruler, who had a seat on the council of the guild to which she now belonged. That, she was pretty sure, was a far bigger deal than one person coming for her, no matter who they were.

  No matter what the bigger issue was, though, Petra was right. They needed to try to keep this shtum for as long as they could, if at all possible.

  “Petra,” she said, again catching the innkeeper’s eyes. “I’ll do what I can. For now, if anyone I know shows up, can you let them know that I’m alright, but that Messy’s at Touanne’s. And so’s Tor. I’m sure Kaira and Om would love to know that he’s going to be fine.”

  Petra took a steadying breath. “Yeah. I can do that. And you’ll go talk to the captains?”

  “I was on my way to talk to Falk once I’d made sure you’re okay. I’ll head out right now. But Petra? Be careful. We don’t know if there are any invaders left in the outpost, or where they may go.”

  Petra promised that she would with the fervor of a woman defending everything she’d built for herself, and then Ana was off, heading north.

  The streets were empty. The only people Ana met as she made her way toward the stockade was a small group of combat-Classers patrolling for strangers. She hoped they’d be careful, and use their words before anything got ugly; the outpost wasn’t large, but half a thousand people was still enough that even with five people in the group, there was a good chance none of them would know any given person they met.

  Ana, of course, did not need to worry. Everyone recognized her. She was more concerned about running across a pack of Order fanatics and not recognizing them herself. Not that she felt she was in any danger; she just didn’t like the idea of unwittingly letting an enemy run off unscathed.

  The stockade was… an absolute shambles wasn’t quite right. Order had been restored. There were guards keeping watch both inward and outward, and people, most notably Captain Falk, who were clearly in charge. But it was a goddamn mess. The smell of wood was heavy in the air along with turned earth and blood, and splinters littered the ground. “Like a whirlwind in a matchstick factory,” Mr. Stamper might have said.

  “Jesus Christ, Captain,” Ana said loudly, making Falk turn to greet her. “I’d heard they’d attacked here, but I didn’t expect this. What happened here?”

  “Miss Ana!” Falk said, a relieved smile somewhat brightening his tired face. “It is good to see you on your feet. Yes, indeed. I’d heard that you were quite badly injured in your fight last night.”

  “Yeah. Broken leg, a bunch of busted ribs, probably had one of my lungs ruined. Nothing Touanne couldn’t fix, but without her I doubt I’d’ve woken up this morning. Are you and Marra alright?”

  “Some minor scratches, nothing to bother Mistress Touanne with,” Falk said, waving off Ana’s polite concern. “As for what happened, well… from what we’ve gathered from the guards on duty, about a dozen unknown men and women, half of them mages, attacked shortly after the Waystone was forcibly activated. They blew in the gates—” he gestured to where the entire structure around the gate had been reduced to kindling, “and proceeded to destroy the suppression circle by… well. You can see for yourself.”

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  Ana could indeed see what the attackers had done. It looked like a localized earthquake had hit, or perhaps like a volcanic rift had opened, tearing the ground apart and forcing massive shards of rock several feet into the air starting at the gate, continuing through the hundred yard width of the ritual circle, and continuing through the palisade. Some kind of Earth-magic, she assumed.

  “The worst damage was done by one man, an Earthbreaker in the high 30s. They then proceeded to tear down the walls between the cells, before further shattering the palisade — the breach would have been quite impassable with so much rock in the way — and making for the forest. All this in a few minutes, while fighting off the guards, and taking only three casualties. If I weren’t so furious with them, I might allow myself to be impressed. Yes, indeed!”

  “Besides the prisoners and the damage, what did it cost us?” Ana asked.

  Falk heaved a great sigh. “Five dead. Mister Syltfer, whom I know you’re familiar with, was among them. Seven more injured, two, Miss Sari and Mister Feria— Are you familiar with him?”

  Ana thought for a moment. “Middle height, coppery hair, dark tan skin? A Spearman?”

  “That’s him. He and Miss Sari were injured badly enough that they had to be taken to Mistress Touanne’s after being stabilized. And I hear Mister Barlo is there as well, though he was only lightly injured in the attack on the stockade.”

  “He got hurt pretty badly bringing me there, yeah,” Ana said. “Captain, can we talk in private?”

  “I’m mostly watching the proceedings at this point,” Falk said by way of agreement. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

  Falk led Ana through the shattered stockade and out the wide breach in the palisade. Ana didn’t have anything to compare it to; with the inch-high stumps and the field of splintered logs beyond, the closest she could imagine was if a bomb had gone off, or maybe if a battery of howitzer-sized shotguns had blasted it all at once.

  “Quite concerning. Yes, indeed,” Falk remarked, seeing her expression. “I’m told it took the Sentinel’s mages, working together, quite a few seconds to push enough mana into their shaping to destroy the gate and the palisade, but it’s the Earthbreaker who truly concerns me. And the fact that there are now such mages lurking in the forest is a problem. Especially considering the Summoners and Binders and others that they freed. There have also been reports of a few others running for the forest after the attack petered out, so we must assume that they have all joined up.”

  “Is there anyone after them yet?” Ana asked.

  “Miss Kosh and some of her companions went out to track them some time ago, with clear instructions not to engage. Best if our enemies do not know that they are being followed at all; we shall have to put together a proper force to eliminate them.” Falk paused as they cleared the edge of the field of debris. “I am sure you will not be shocked to hear that holding anyone for trial is no longer a priority. If they surrender without a fight, that is one thing. If not…”

  “But it’ll need to be soon,” Ana said. “No deliveries. No safe hunting. It’s the siege all over again, except with lower stores.”

  “You are absolutely correct, Miss Ana,” Falk said. Then he sighed. “I’m needed here. I’m sure you know what I’ll ask.”

  Ana stopped to bend and pick up a crossbow bolt that had buried itself several inches into the soil. It had a broadhead — a hunting bolt. “You know my answer, despite my better judgement.”

  Falk also stopped, and nodded his gratitude. “That’s a relief. Yes, indeed.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Or this afternoon, if we can gather the fighters.”

  “As much as I want this over with, Touanne will have my head if I go out fighting today, with the condition I’m in. And Messy would be worried sick.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” Falk agreed. “It may be for the best in any case. The escapees and their rescuers will have spent an uncomfortable night in the forest, while you will be as rested as you can be after this ordeal.”

  “That’s settled, then,” Ana said. She hefted the bolt, then hauled back and threw it toward the forest. She didn’t have the Throwing Skill yet, despite her long-standing intention of picking it up; nor did she have any real lower-case-’s’ skill with thrown weapons. She could throw a 50 at darts, had gone to one of those ax-throwing places a few times with her colleagues, and Charlie had tried to teach her the subtle art of throwing knives, but it had never really stuck. Still, 58 Strength and 36 Dexterity could make up for some pretty damn severe deficiencies; Ana’s arm cracked forward, and the bolt must have flown five or six hundred feet despite its low trajectory, far enough that she’d’ve lost sight of it if not for her Perception.

  “Might want to hold back at the lists,” Falk suggested. “Precision over power and so on.”

  “Yeah,” Ana agreed, feeling quite pleased with herself. “Captain, there’s something I need to ask of you. More like demand, really.”

  “You’ve earned yourself quite a bit of room to make demands. Yes, indeed, “ Falk said agreeably. “What do you need?”

  “The Ascender. He needs to be kept out of any reports for as long as possible.” At Falk’s doubtful look she added, “I know that too many people know already to keep it quiet forever, but… do you know who he was?”

  “Not at all. Why?”

  “I have it from the Wayfarer that his name was Summerland.”

  Falk closed his eyes. His moustache seemed to swallow his entire mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Oh, hells.”

  “That was Petra’s reaction,” Ana said. “So you see why I’d want his name, his presence at all, kept out of any official reports? I can’t imagine many aristocratic Ascenders go missing in a given month. Word will get out, and if they don’t already know where he went his family will figure it out soon enough, but I’d like the biggest head start I can get.”

  Falk slumped where he stood, as though all his fatigue had caught up with him at once. “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. We couldn’t just close the Waystone, you understand.”

  A lump formed in Ana’s gut. “You sent a report or something first, explaining what happened,” she stated. Of course they had. Obviously they would have!

  “Not the first we’ve sent since the Waystone became stable enough, of course, but yes. We detailed what we could about the attack. We did not have the man’s name at the time, which may be a small mercy, but I would not be surprised if Lord and Lady Summerland know within the day that an Ascender has died here. No, indeed.”

  “And in not too long they’ll connect the dots, and then they’ll be counting the days until they, or more likely their daughter, can avenge him.” Ana’s face twisted into a snarl. “Fuck!”

  “You have my deepest sympathy for the trouble this is likely to cause you,” Falk said sombrely. “You also have my full support in the face of this likely injustice. Though I doubt any of us is likely to go entirely unscathed.”

  Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, Ana said, “Thank you. Nothing we can do about it now. We have two months. First we need to deal with the Earthbreaker, his minions, and the escapees, and then we can decide how to handle this.”

  “We shall need to present a united front,” the captain said. “I’ll talk to Pirta.”

  “Thank you.” Ana paused for as long as she deemed diplomatic, then said, “Speaking of the administrative captain… can she still be trusted?”

  “Without a doubt,” Falk said. He didn’t sound at all offended — just tired. Then he sighed. “She is… having a crisis of faith, as are many of the Sentinel’s remaining followers in this Splinter. If you’ve been by the rubbish pits lately, the effegies… but no, we were talking about Pirta. Karti was her village priest, once upon a time. His betrayal, more than anything, has done her great harm. But I’ve known her for many years before we took this posting together, and if there is one thing I’m sure of in this world — besides my absolute trust in my wife — it’s that when Pirta’s faith is pitted against her duty, it will be her duty that wins out. She will not betray this Splinter, nor the people under her protection. No, indeed, she will not.” Then he looked up, catching Ana’s eyes, and said, “But I do ask that you be patient with her, and kind. She was raised into the worship of the Sentinel; she is not taking his treachery well.”

  They made their way back through the breach in the palisade after that, and separated. Ana made her way along narrow side streets toward the small apartment she shared with Messy, deep in thought. Fucking politics. If there was one thing she’d never wanted to get caught up in, it was politics. It had been a constant concern with the kinds of clients Mr. Stamper had her protecting — high-profile kids of high-profile people. Her best protection had been to be uninteresting to the point that even the paparazzi wouldn’t care if she was in focus, or even in the shot. Now? Now she was well and truly in the shit, both religious and secular, and Messy along with her. And she couldn’t see a reliable way out.

  As she got close to home, she was so deep in thought that she barely even registered when her Danger Sense went off. On reflex and instinct more than anything she turned to see the descending dagger and the woman holding it. With her free right hand Ana grabbed her wrist, and eschewing anything that even resembled technique she twisted at the hip, curled herself forward, and whipped her assailant overhead hard enough that her sandals dug into the hard-packed dirt of the street. The woman’s shoulder separated with an audible Grukh as she was jerked into a high arc that ended with her smashing into the ground with a wet Thud. Then Ana’s body seemingly remembered the sword in her left hand, and as she twisted back up she threw it underhand at the wide-eyed man who stood ten feet behind where the woman with the dagger had been.

  The sword twisted once and struck the man pommel-first high in the gut. He collapsed, gasping and retching, to the ground.

  On impulse, Ana checked her notifications.

  Then Ana’s conscious mind caught up with what had just happened. She looked at the themion woman who lay very obviously dead on the street, eyes open and staring blankly at the sky. She turned and looked at the man on the other side of her, who was far too busy alternating between struggling for breath and emptying his stomach into the dirt to be any kind of threat to anyone.

  “Goddamnit,” she muttered. Her ribs… tickled, more than anything, but that was bad enough with how strong the painkilling effect of Touanne’s magic was. Ana had promised the Healer not to get into any fights. She’d just been going to change her clothes and grab some things for Messy, and now she’d been made into a liar. But much as she wanted to just pick up her sword and put the guy out of his misery, having someone to interrogate would probably be for the best.

  She relieved the guy of two daggers as she waited for him to finish emptying his stomach. Then she lifted his head by the hair, looked him in the eyes, and told him in her most reasonable voice, “If you try anything, I’m breaking your knees and elbows.” Fair warning given, she grabbed him by the collar, picked up her borrowed sword, and dragged him back to the stockade.

  Falk was very grateful for her restraint.

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