MIRRI

  The familiar warmth of Yarrun's forge and the smell of soot had lulled Mirri into a false sense of security for less than a minute, and that complacency was already about to bite her in the tail.

  *Of course* Yarrun was going to do this when Dovin marched two strange humans into his forge without warning. She should have known that. *Dovin* should have known that, and had Calen and Emma wait outside before having the smith take their measures.

  Yarrun's bluster was one of his more endearing qualities, but to the Arrivals who had no way to tell that this was an ordinary greeting from the ornery smith, it must have been a terrifying introduction.

  She had her mouth half open to start doing damage control when Calen made everything worse.

  "Only if you want a new favorite eye, buddy."

  The ruby-lead tongs Yarrun used for serious work looked ridiculous, clutched in Calen's uncalloused hand, but the thick stripe of metal was genuinely one of the only objects in the forge that might have been capable of crippling the smith, if it were jabbed at his face with sufficient force.

  Assuming, of course, that Calen hadn't announced his intent ahead of time. Or that violence would occur at all. Mirri had watched the oxblood-hued smith rescue one too many flies from his quenching basin to believe any of his bluster about snapping fingers.

  No matter how close to the ceiling the old codger's horns scraped when he bothered drawing himself up to point both eyes at his newest challenger. Nominally, at least.

  The forge was cooling now, so his right eye was still hidden under the ragged lead-lined patch that looped around the back of his head.

  "You think you can reach that high, go ahead," A raspy chuff betrayed the permanent layer of soot that must line Yarrun's lungs. "If not, put my tools down, and tell me why you've come."

  Calen hesitated, but Mirri had had enough. She grasped the outstretched tool in one hand, and his wrist in the other. After a brief bit of tension in his wrist, the Arrival let her disarm him.

  She released him the moment his grasp became too loose to deny her, setting the priceless tool of the trade back in its customary place on the anvil, at its customary angle, after wiping down the grip with one of the many nearby rags.

  "I told you, you're talking to Sanctum's youngest. Emma and Calen are the Skyborn from the pass," Dovin kicked the crate full of Seraph Steel with a boot, the blasphemy barely grating Mirri's sensibilities at this point in the day. "And you're arming them, because they didn't come with weapons of their own."

  Not strictly true, but at least the 'revolver' had gone through the pass with their cowardly chaperone. Mercy knew what might have happened if Calen had pointed a real weapon at Yarrun's throat just now.

  "Arming them too, am I? Why should I arm two humans who are just as likely to scurry across the Fang as they are to open the gates to their friends from the East? Hmmm?" Yarrun was back to sneering in Emma's face, but held up a single claw when Dovin made to reply. "She answers, not your slippery voice. I'll hear the truth of their intent directly."

  Poor Emma had gone stiff like a startled hare at the accusation. Yarrun was pressing hard, like something had him in a foul mood, but Dovin simply let the dismissal pass and left the Arrival to struggle, twirling one of a set of throwing knives from the wall behind him at the end of a finger in an uncharacteristically amateur display of dexterity while he waited for the scene to play out.

  Mirri had almost decided to rescue her frightened charge when she caught the tiniest shake of the golden-scaled mercenary's head, pausing her with her jaws parted like a fool catching flies.

  The throwing knives in the set Dovin had broken up were too small for him, and even odder, they were near-identical, a matching set that looked to have been polished recently.

  Very recently, judging by the leafy scent of tamarind that hung just under the soot in the room.

  There was only one person Yarrun would have made such a set for, but Mirri hadn't seen Jerrett *anywhere* since arriving at Eastwatch. The Ward absolutely adored his 'uncle', and had briefly mistaken the amount of time Mirri had spent at the forge with them last spring as a sign of his own magnetism.

  She would have expected him to be underfoot yet again this year, but he had wintered in Eastwatch, and with the preparations to rebuild the northern watchtower still ongoing, none of the winter garrison had been released yet.

  Which left only one place for Yarrun's 'grand-nephew' to be; Captured by Saah's men, less than a day ago.

  Mirri's seething and his own creeping advance cost Calen a lash across the shin as she failed to control her initial reflex to anger. She didn't bother coiling her tail, instead allowing it to keep the human spaced to a proper distance. Yarrun might actually strike him back if he tried to make good on his threat, in his current state.

  What was the point to today's efforts, if Dovin was simply going to languish against the wall while Yarrun terrified the Arrivals out of committing to Wardship? Was that the point? Or was there a deeper game, one he hadn't bothered to inform her of, despite her responsibilities?

  She was half a breath from defying his clear wishes when Emma beat her to a decision for the second time in two days, her back ramrod straight and chin lifted defiantly to meet Yarrun's gaze.

  "We can leave if you like, but I need a weapon from somewhere," The Arrival's voice was clear and clean, with none of the quaver or fearful pauses Mirri had expected. "The Venatrix left some unfinished business that she's not going to get to herself, and I don't have any friends east of here to ask for help."

  "I knew Mahira," Yarrun allowed, narrowing in on his point now that Emma had committed to her own defense. "What makes you think you're worthy of putting her wings on, or carrying that legacy around?"

  Mirri kept her silence. Interference here would only signal that she didn't trust Emma, and she had not yet reached a decision around that.

  The answer that came forth here might end up being the most important piece of information she ever received about the girl. A lie would be just as telling as the truth, spoken to a faebound Immortal.

  Neither Mirri nor Yarrun had to wait long for Emma's reply. She had clearly already given the subject some thought, and reached her own conclusions.

  "Because she could have lived, if she'd left me behind, and there's no one to pay back for that sacrifice, so I have to pay it forward instead," Emma's interesting turn of phrase did nothing to diminish the amount of zeal in her voice. "I don't need you to fix the wings for me, I just need a weapon, because I'm not the one putting the wings on. He is."

  Calen's smudged hand gave a hesitant wave as his sister called him out.

  He was likely regretting his earlier actions at this point, but there was nothing to do but wait for Yarrun's verdict. If the smith judged any part of what Emma said to be a lie, Mirri might find herself in a squad with Sutai by the end of the week, while the Arrivals were shipped off to the city with Viran's captives.

  There was no purpose for untrustworthy Wards at Eastwatch, especially humans. The thought of losing her first command so soon almost sent a pang of disappointment through Mirri's chest, but she needn't have worried. Yarrun was nodding along.

  Emma had told the truth. She had meant every zealous syllable, which meant Mirri needed to be *very* careful handling her, now and in the future. The Venatrix-in-training might have very particular ideas about what that duty meant, and Mirri had already crossed her sights once, atop the northern cliff.

  "Not a strictly true statement, but she doesn't know that," Dovin interjected, still playing with a knife. "The boots will need work to fit her feet. They stay with the shield, by insistence of the Seraph."

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  The smith grunted, nudging the lid of the crate open to reveal a twisted mass of seraph steel, and two perfectly functional boots that would nevertheless be impossible for Emma to wear.

  "We haven't committed to anything yet," It was Calen's turn to surprise Mirri, with a talent for fitting his foot in his mouth while still standing on both legs. "Still in the trial phase of things."

  "I suppose the spear is yours then, firefly?" Yarrun ignored the hurried denial, instead looking to Mirri for confirmation.

  The pet name struck her harder than any blow. His earlier 'denial' hadn't even been pointed at her, only speaking to Dovin, and only to refuse a decision Mirri would have rejected anyway, but this time he could have easily used her title, or left out any address.

  Instead, the grizzled Immortal had asked as if he were inquiring how soon to attend her pyre.

  "No. It's gone," Mirri forced the words past the knot in her throat. The early spring air was still too dry, remnants of winter lingering overlong in the open plan building. "But someone needs to make sure these two are ready when the Maw next opens, so I need your help arming them."

  All the remaining hostility dropped out of Yarrun's shoulders at her soft request.

  "Fine," He grumbled. "But I'm out of scrap to work for now, Isha's had me making *farming implements*, and all the other bronze is spoken for, by the fortress or for other reasons."

  That complaint was more like the smith she knew. Gods forbid his talents be wasted on something so plebian as tools for growing *food*.

  Dovin reminded everyone he was there by noisily re-hanging his borrowed knife, apparently content with how the drama had played out, now that Emma had failed to faint like a startled goat or sprint from the building. Instead, the Arrival had an almost jaunty lean to her posture, and she wasn't even tracking Yarrun's movements out of the corner of her eye.

  Which might have been the point all along.

  "Fortunately, some of that bronze has already gone to waste," Dovin drawled. "Pebble's retrieved some steel for you, instead of waiting for the wonderful work you've already produced for him."

  "Sorry." Viran rumbled from the doorway, hefting the melted axe he had been dragging around.

  "No apologies for getting me quality material to work with. That first, then, come tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what I can do with it," Yarrun snorted something that almost sounded like amusement. "The little one won't be able to use anything I made for you until it's re-forged anyway. She might manage with just a new handle on the axe, if that shield hasn't tipped her over yet, but you'll get to swing it first."

  Emma's wide-eyed and bewildered look terminated when one of her hands found the practice weapon still threaded through her belt. It was a bit of a giveaway as to her preferences.

  "This way you two," Mirri took charge of getting Emma and Calen out from between Viran and the forgemaster. "We're taking measurements."

  Saving Yarrun time and buying space for the Arrivals to breathe was her top priority right now. There was no point to giving her charges the opportunity to butt heads with the smith while he was busy arming Viran.

  "Make sure you come back when you're finished with those two, firefly," Yarrun's order was directed at her. "I'll need someone to feed this thing if I'm working Seraph Steel soon."

  Mirri nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and let him go back to clapping 'pebble' on the shoulder. Even giving them space, she could hear the quiet inquiries about *where* Viran had acquired the steel in such a state turn to silence as the story was relayed.

  Dovin wasn't looking back at her, too busy monitoring the interaction, but there was a self-satisfied bent to his grin, and Mirri couldn't blame him, seeing Yarrun properly energized instead of sulking. The hope of a hostage trade rather than a pure ransom might blunt some of Yarrun's frustrations enough to wash away the rough edges of his introduction to the Arrivals.

  Even common prisoners had to be kept a certain level of intact to guarantee the same treatment for noble hostages, which Viran had taken.

  It didn't change the fact that she should have visited before now, doubly so with Yarrun's actual family missing. Instead, she hadn't even bothered to check *who* had been taken, despite being the first one to investigate the tower.

  The first local, anyway.

  "What the hell was that?" Calen barely lowered his voice after crossing the room.

  The sunlit section of the forge was lined with weapon racks, mostly empty, but Mirri's eyes caught on two particular arrangements of bronze and wood, each of them sharp and shining fit to blind an Immortal.

  Yarrun had not opted for anything so gaudy as a knopesh, but the plain, straight sword was clearly sized for Viran. No one else at Eastwatch would need a grip so long, or a guard so wide. It would be a shame to see it melted, but there wasn't a chance Calen could hold the blade at a ready without wavering, much less wield it effectively from behind a shield.

  The axe was an affair of similar quality, and the terrifyingly practical swoop of the beak made it clear that the tool was no farming implement or lumberjack's tool. Still, the haft appeared a tad too long for her cousin to hold in a single hand, unless he grasped it near the middle. Emma would certainly need it replaced, given the shining burden on her back limited her to weapons she could hold in a single hand.

  "A test your sister passed. Hold your sword arm level with your shoulder. All the way, finger bones straight." Mirri instructed him as she pulled a measuring ribbon from on of the many nooks and crannies Yarrun liked to hang them in to forget about.

  "And he failed?" The worry was plain in Emma's tone as Calen scowled and complied.

  "He didn't pass, but he wasn't the one being tested, so it can't be called a failure." Mirri kept her reply short.

  Half the recrimination she was tempted to give was hypocrisy. She had been tested too, as an officer, and failed to see the problem until it had already arisen. It had taken a second chance, when she had gone about disarming Calen, for the both of them to avoid a conflict.

  Even with her own doubts about her readiness to lead anyone, Mirri had underestimated how much she needed Dovin's oversight right now.

  The words seemed to thread the needle. Emma's own scowl was directed at her brother, not Mirri or Dovin.

  "I didn't know I was threatening a cripple." Calen at least had the decency to admit his ignorance as he deflected responsibility, but misguided or not, it had still been a mistake.

  "There's a lot you don't know here. If your first instinct when you become uncomfortable is threatening violence, eventually you'll meet someone willing to bite you back," Mirri paused, watching that lesson sink in as Calen chose not to reply, which seemed to be a greater indicator of learning than any of the dozen different things he did with his face when the world stymied his flailing efforts. "Yarrun isn't crippled, either."

  "What's the eyepatch for then?" That tidbit unfortunately prompted Calen back out of his silence.

  "Lined with lead for privacy. Yours, not his," Mirri explained. "Manasight fit to pass liquid metal while he's working requires the kind of investment that makes people uncomfortable on the street."

  "Oh," Emma calmly let Mirri manipulate her arm after she was done marking the length for Calen. "So he could have checked my hands, if Calen—"

  "No," Mirri forced herself to calmly measure the distance from Emma's elbow to her middle fingertip. "Do not show Yarrun your channels under any circumstance, even if he lets you. Don't even ask him to look."

  Keeping Emma's secret might be harder than Mirri had initially estimated, but Yarrun's faebinding complicated matters. Mirri couldn't very well disclose the details in her warning either. Even if she trusted Calen and Emma with those secrets, any slip of the tongue would flow from her fault in telling them in the first place.

  "Why not? He works for Isha, right?" Calen asked.

  Luckily, there were plenty of other reasons to avoid involving the smith with Emma's channels. She had already tried dire warnings, maybe a lesson in responsibility would burrow into their skulls better.

  Mirri sighed openly.

  "You two need to start thinking more like Immortals. Yarrun is a craftsman, not a fighter. You can't burden him like that." She chastised them both.

  Their faces were still blank, so Mirri made herself explicit, and adjusted her estimates of their position in Earth's political hierarchy downward once more. Were they eventual figureheads within a waning political power? Or closer to herself, not being groomed for leadership beyond the local level at all?

  Or perhaps something different was happening, and they had been prepared for particular, apolitical roles within their society. The specialized schooling would still match her expectations there, though Mirri could not divine a practical purpose for the kind of high-level cartographic math Emma had attempted to undertake the moment she had been shown an itinerary.

  It was just another piece of the mystery she would need to solve, to manage the strange nobles effectively.

  "Showing him your secrets does not give him leverage, it *makes* him leverage, against you, for any enemy you might ever make," *Now* understanding seemed to dawn over Emma. Calen still appeared confused, but he was at least giving Yarrun the same puzzled gaze he had given Mirri's earlier sketches in the sand. "He would refuse, and would not appreciate being asked to take that risk, no matter whose legacy you carry on your back."

  Mirri had already turned away, keeping the measuring ribbon pinched in two different positions beneath her claws, when Emma asked one more solemn question.

  "She said you were her apprentice. What was her legacy? The one I'm carrying around in front of everybody, instead of you." The Arrival asked.

  The question was easy, but the statement before struck Mirri like a hammer blow, driving all the breath she might have used to answer from her lungs as the full weight of what had been lost came crashing down on her shoulders.

  A moment ago, pretending that nothing had changed had been easy. An hour ago, Mirri had been in a position she might have not quite expected before she had been told the Venatrix was visiting, but the swaying details still left her training Wards at Eastwatch, human or not. A day ago, she had been too caught up in the guilt of her own survival to truly process what might have been.

  But to *know*, beyond a doubt, from Emma's innocent inquiry, that she had passed the test, that Mahira might have taken her on, might have stayed, might have solved the problems Viran was now arming himself to face?

  The truth of that loss left an ache fit to bruise inside Mirri's chest, and the Arrivals she had saved instead of the Venatrix were still waiting for an answer.

  "I don't know," Mirri couldn't bear to look at them while she made the admission. "I only met her yesterday. I've no claim to that Seraph Steel on your back. The only part of her legacy I was involved with was her death."

  Thankfully, they let her walk away in silence.

  Chromium, the element used to make stainless steel out of ferrite alloys, was initially discovered in 1761 as a lead compound with a reddish sheen called crocoite, and was used in paint pigments thereafter.