Nat was having second thoughts about leaving Bell House, the longer this week went on. Not that he really had a choice, but if this was representative of a normal week on the outside, he debated whether he was ready to handle this sort of thing on the regular.

  He tucked the knife he'd used — painstakingly slowly — to cut through Novek's bag in his belt. Not that it was much of a knife at this point — if Novek hadn't reinforced it with his Talent beforehand, he doubted it would have managed — it had taken almost half a Talent cycle, and been like cutting through steel — Moira's aether infusion was the only reason it had managed at all.

  Coming out from behind Ellie, Nat watched Novek reload the coach gun and decided he'd focus on getting things ready to go. “Ellie, let me help you in to the coach. I'll drive for now, okay?”

  Ellie looked at him seriously for a few seconds. At least he thought she did — it was almost pitch black under the coach where the sideboard lanterns didn't reach.

  She finally spoke, “You know what? Sure. You've had enough practice, and I need Lyn to look at this.” She held out Novek's crossbow. “Here, take this — it's heavier than it looks, don't drop it.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  Ellie gave Nat a sideways look at his comment, but said nothing as they crouch-walked out from the under the bulk of the coach and back towards the side door where Lyn was waiting.

  Novek had moved with a dark purpose, and was out from under the coach, cautiously approaching the Ber'Duun. ‘Trant’, apparently that was — his? — name, was still rolling and holding between his legs. Nat was momentarily glad he had only normal night-vision, though he could see Siya's green eyes locked in place on Novek's neck — the poor kit deserved none of this.

  Lyn leaned fully over the side and looked down at them while extending an arm. “Are you okay, Ellie? You need a hand up?”

  “Yes, please, but, um, grab my upper arm.” Ellie grunted as she was hauled up by Lyn. In the firelight of the sideboard lanterns, Nat could see that Ellie's duster was missing, and her arms were dripping.

  Nat, concerned, exclaimed, “Ellie! You're bleeding!”

  “I am not, no. I'll explain later. Grab my coat, please.”

  Lyn had already begun ministrations, “Ah, Talent? Of course. Let's get your shirt off before it's ruined.” A pale white arm reached out and shut the door behind them.

  Nat turned back and scooped up the brown leather duster — both arms were visibly soaked and dark, but he couldn't recognize the scent — whatever it was, it wasn't blood. He threw it up onto the driver's bench and started to climb up himself.

  Novek and Trant were having a conversation of some sort a few meters to the side of the horses where the Ber had landed. Novek's voice was a low growl and Nat could only make out a few words. Trant's responses filled in most of the details Nat might have been curious about.

  “We are only here for the vodat, you, and Ceress.” Either the Ber wasn't nearly as hurt as his moaning had indicated, or he was so focused on not being killed that he was pulling off a miracle of coherence. Given what he'd seen this week, he was guessing a little of column A, a little of column B.

  Novek's growl was indistinct to Nat, but it was obviously a statement of disbelief.

  “Look, it's just a one-time contract — nothing personal. The Brin are with the client — you can ask them for details, I'm a freelancer. I won't be back, I promise.”

  Moira's voice sounded quietly in his ear. Just so everyone knows — the canids are moving in again.

  Novek's angry snarl was followed by an immediate secondary plea by the Ber'Duun. “Okay! Don't shoot! I'm calling them off.”

  A few seconds later, the same quiet voice updated them all. They have, in fact, turned and started to leave at speed.

  Lyn's voice came from within the coach, “We need to leave — Trant's not the commander — he can only extend the range of one. That means there are others out there we haven't seen yet.”

  Novek shouted from the front, not taking his eyes off his target, “Should we take him with us as a hostage?”

  “No, he's probably not lying about being a contract — they won't care if he dies — and their commander can track him, same as the Ber. Kill him or make him run off.”

  Nat made a mental note to himself to not anger Lyn in the future. “What about the other Brin in the coach?”

  There was a slight delay before Lyn responded, “The Brin's Talent was involuntarily reassigned to Composting Specialist at some point during the excitement. No time to dispose of him, we'll do it later.”

  It took Nat a moment to parse what Lyn meant, “Oh.” He imagined underlining the mental note. Twice.

  Lyn opened the door on the side again and leaned out. “Trant — we're short on time, as you know. I wasn't lying, Ceress isn't here — and honestly it's lucky for you that she isn't, given everything. Are you, personally, going to cause a problem for us in the future if we let you go?”

  “Not me, no. I can't guarantee anyone else won't notice you or your interesting human, though.”

  Lyn's next response came after a brief, but noticeable delay, and had a tonal quality to it that Nat couldn't place — half exasperated, half distant, “AMA's breath, Trant. AMA's breath.”

  Moira's voice was quiet and only within Nat's ear for the second time tonight. Nat. Talent. Now.

  [Slip]

  Nat, what Lyn just said is code, marking Trant as an immediate high priority threat. I don't know why.

  I don't understand. It seemed like they were defusing the situation. Wait — was he talking about me?

  That's my current working theory.

  Well that's not concerning at all. So what does that mean?

  I may need some help — I need time in your Talent to layer aether patterns capable of harming a Ber'Duun.

  Okay, hold on — help to do what?

  I'm going to try to kill him.

  No, wait a minute. We were just talking about letting him go. Can we ask Lyn why?

  It may not be wise to delay; Lyn doesn't use this type of code lightly.

  I'm sorry, but I'm not killing someone, or helping to kill them, without understanding why.

  No need to apologize for that. I'll need time to ask Lyn, though. Be ready for anything, you may need to react quickly, okay? Whenever you're ready.

  []

  Nat came out of his Talent to the sound of Novek grunting in pain — it was too dark to see, but the next thing Trant said cleared up what had happened.

  Trant shouted in the dark. “I will break his neck, Lyn. You tell your find to stay out of his Talent. You know how fast I can move.”

  Lyn answered, “AMA's voice. Nat, listen to him.”

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  That means ignore what she just said.

  “Also, I can't hear what you're saying to each other, but I can sense the aether in your ears. One more time, and he dies. Don't test me.”

  Nat wasn't sure what to do. He was now cut off from Moira being able to talk to him to explain what Lyn meant. Novek probably couldn't talk — and he couldn't take time to ask Lyn what to do.

  He waited to see if Lyn would say anything to help direct him, fingering the edge of the blade in his belt as he waited. They were probably thinking as fast as they could about what to do next.

  Trant said he moved fast, but earlier Lyn had specifically said faster than almost anyone here. Lyn was, if nothing else, exceedingly precise.

  Trying to dissuade them from coordinating was the deciding factor — without preamble or a second thought; Nat simply chose.

  [Slip]

  Okay Moira, I'm here. My tunnel's a little awkward given the angle, but I didn't want to risk taking the time pushing over to Novek.

  Alright. So it looks like he's got aether activation on his eyes and hands. I can see where he's got Novek. You won't be able to pry his hands open without killing Novek.

  I assumed as much. I take it he knows what I can do, then? So we have exactly this one chance to get this right?

  Correct. Don't leave the Talent until you've done everything you can. You likely won't get another chance.

  Nat started climbing down from the driver's bench. The shape of the air he could move in was interrupted by the coach, but a little pushing here and there let him get close to the ground. He slid the last meter on an incline of solid air. Okay, that was cool. It was hard to maintain active focus on being panicked when the world around him was frozen like stone.

  Okay. I've got the knife we used earlier — a little worse for wear, a bit melted, but still aether infused. Oh, I can see his eyes and hands glowing.

  Wait, that means he's got an active aether Skill — be careful.

  Nat walked up to the two forms, which looked like some very strange statues, now that they were within the aether bubble of dim light. The eyes of the larger statue seemed to follow him as he moved to the side, pushing the limits of his tunnel of air. He'd been generous about the tunnel shape and had likely burned a fair amount of time to do so. Hopefully he had enough. It was creepy how the green glowing eyes almost looked like they tracked him as he walked…

  He moved back to the front of the three meter Ber. He got the distinct impression that the eyes slowly moved to look at him.

  Hey Moira? Are you seeing this? He moved to the side once again. The swirling, glowing eyes clearly followed him — while they didn't have an iris, the shift in rotation of the orbs was obvious as the pattern swiveled to match his movement.

  I am. There's a theronic structure overlaying his eyes. He's not moving his physical form, but the spheres of aether are turning when you move.

  Oh. That's not good. So if he can see us, is that going to cause a problem?

  Well, I don't think he can physically move that fast, but I don't know enough about what he can do to be sure.

  Can you do something to stop him without me having to get close?

  I can empower an aether flame pattern to remove his ability to watch us.

  Got it. What should I do, do you think?

  This is going to sound a bit gruesome, but… maybe cut his fingers so you can free Novek?

  Nat shuddered at the prospect. I'll… try.

  Pulling the partially melted knife out of his belt, Nat gathered his courage before moving towards the Ber's slightly shimmering hands. With a moment to steel himself, he made to saw at one of the three fingers on one hand.

  The yellow shimmer surrounding them intensified to a bright glow, turning brighter and hotter — it immediately became uncomfortably hot, like Ceress's claw flame.

  Okay he's coherent at the speed we're moving. He just lit up his hands with more aether — I don't think I can get close enough for long enough. How is that even possible?

  As Novek says all the time, Ber are unfair. Okay, new plan — if you can't free Novek, render him unable to exert sufficient force to hurt him. I'm going to build a flame in front of his eyes now, so you'll need to avoid there too.

  Moira's blue-white aether flame began to cover the green glowing orbs in a different fire altogether. Nat could see the patterns swirling in the eyes shaking, no — oscillating — back and forth.

  Moira, wait, please.

  What's wrong? The pattern that had sprung up around his eyes winked out.

  He's shaking his eyes back and forth. I think he's trying to signal us.

  Nat, I understand this is uncomfortable, and potentially disturbing for you, but he's got Novek by the neck and threatened to kill him. He's not in your Talent, specifically, so there's no way to speak and be heard, and I cannot — no, will not — attempt to communicate with him in this way. I doubt he can understand us — the constantly changing speed of your Talent would render it impossible anyway, but he can likely detect that we're communicating.

  Okay, that's fair. Then… how about gestures? He's a Ber'Duun — he'll understand gestural Tradish. I sign it well enough.

  Okay, but remember, I need time to build up a strong enough pattern. Hurry, please.

  Hang on — time relative to me, right? And this reference frame doesn't have a set speed — it can change, yes?

  Yes? Oh. Oh! Well that's one way to improve your bargaining position — assuming you can instruct the Talent to speed up.

  Intent matters, right? Well, I need to be faster. Fast enough that uncle touchy here understands he can't keep up with me.

  Focusing on his Talent, he felt for the same ‘place’ he could sense when he deactivated it, or when he was adjusting how it worked to bring in air. While carefully avoiding any errant thoughts about ending it early, Nat concentrated on moving faster, with the rest of the world going slower.

  I can't tell if it's working. It all feels the same to me.

  That's because you are the reference — it's all relative to you. You often fluctuate in speed, usually three-hundred to one or so. Right now you're closer to six-hundred to one, and holding. Can he follow you?

  Let's find out. He moved to the side again. The eyes followed, but more slowly — lagging behind his position. Better. I need more. Back to focusing. Another doubling.

  This time when he moved, the glowing green orbs were far behind his actual motion. He moved side to side rapidly, then crouched. Better, but not quite enough for comfort. Also, Nat wouldn't put it beyond him to fake moving his eyes slowly once he figured out what Nat was doing.

  Doubling yet again, the film surrounding him began to warm. And again. The enclosing space became darker somehow — if that was even possible. There was a detectable shift in the behavior of the event horizon, and he could tell that he'd exceeded some threshold of safety. Best do this fast, then.

  Nat circled the Ber, watching the eyes search and fail to keep track of him — they were moving frantically trying to locate him now. Every few steps he'd stop in place, wave an arm slowly, and resume walking until he was standing behind the Ber. Once out of any potential sight, he relaxed his intent, and concentrated instead on letting the heat dissipate, while still moving fast.

  Okay. You're back down at six-hundred to one. I clocked in excess of your prior maximum of three-thousand to one for a while there, but not holding any one rate stably — I think that might be the Talent backing off to avoid killing you. My recommendation is that if you want to go this quickly in the future, don't bring air with you when you do.

  Well, compressing that much air as I pushed it away would cause heat problems for Novek. But yeah, it was going to scorch me if I held it there much longer. I think we can say for sure that the Talent has a thermal dissipation limit. Anyway, let's see what our friend thinks about his own speed now.

  Nat circled back in front of Trant, to a clear spot to be seen from, which was awkward given Novek's placement, and signed in three dramatic gestures, with a significant pause to allow each to be seen. ‘I. Much. Faster.’ Then he considered and added, ‘Jerk.’

  The eyes that had held still while he signed began a slow up and down rotation. Ah, right, he was still going fast. He let go of the intent for enhanced speed, and the tracking of the eyes' motion smoothed out visibly. The built-up heat dissipated — Nat wondered momentarily if Trant could feel it as well.

  You saw that?

  I did. What possible guarantee could we extract from him? He can't execute on anything while we're accelerated.

  Hmm. Well — We could force him to deactivate his Skill on his hands. Also, perhaps I should latch myself around a leg before I exit the Talent. He'd be unable to get away.

  That… could work. He'd be unlikely to make the trade of Novek's life for his own — though he may be able to predict your timing, however, given his speed. It is possible that he could hit you before you could reactivate the Talent.

  Well, as Lyn would say — AMA's voice endures. We'll take the full time and hope he can't precisely count three seconds.

  Nat signed again. ‘Disable your skill now. Hurt anyone, and you die. No more chances.’

  The eyes rotated up and down again, and then the glow of aether on the hands blinked out.

  So far, so good. Nat dropped his hands to his side as he reflected on how stupid this might be. Was this the right thing to do?

  Moira, am I being an idiot right now?

  Are you making the tactically optimal choice? No. Nope. In no way. Absolutely not.

  There was a brief pause, but she continued before he could form a response.

  But, I understand your approach — mostly. You're taking steps to ensure safety, and giving some benefit of the doubt. Perhaps be a little more cautious, though? This is Novek's life at stake, and potentially your own.

  He considered for a moment, staring at the hulking Ber, who had his hands wrapped around his friend's throat and had threatened to kill him if they'd so much as spoken.

  Nat believed in second chances — he really did, he told himself. But not being stupid. Reaching up, Nat clasped both of his hands around one of Trant's wrists holding Novek's throat. Just why were all the non-humans so Tall, anyway? Other than Lyn, they all towered over him.

  Ah, that should work. That significantly improves your negotiation position to one of undeniable strength.

  Well, I think it more improves Novek's, really. I'm not planning on being the one to make any agreements.

  The green glowing orbs had tracked him as he placed his hands, but had not reignited the aether. Nat could almost feel the calculation of the mind behind them, as they stared at Nat's hands prepared to lock the wrist in place when the Talent ended.

  And, because Nat absolutely expected the four-armed jerk to count to three and take a swing at him, he cancelled his Talent early, without warning.

  []