The wind scread around , beating the trees into a wall of sound that consud everything in its rustling chorus. The rain was pouring down, seeping into my boots and puddling in my britches despite my best efforts. I asked myself again why I was doing this.
I was still unsure what I wanted from my newfound freedom. There were vague notions in my mind of continuing my quest for revenge or hunting down at least one old acquaintance. A rare soul who I’d actually liked and who seed to like at least enough to collude in a bit of espionage. Those were more of a long-term goal. They ca second to choosing what to do with the knowledge that the Lady was involved in my fate. The greater fae looming over my decisions left feeling adrift.
Lacking the revenge and escape motivations that had dragged forward, my long-term goals were cast aside. I was committed to doing what I could right now. And that ant protecting my new friend.
That was why I was up here being miserable. I had strapped myself to the chimney and was in my actual armour for once. That, plus so oilskins, kept the rain off enough that I could wrap the smoke glamour around myself to keep warm and listen to what the smoke told .
People think all smoke can be seen—sothing I am not about to correct them on. It’s also never written down anywhere I could find. Other cultivators seemingly hadn’t noticed or, like , kept the fact it existed a secret.
Invisible smoke gathered everywhere fires were lit. It also hung around longer than its wispy grey sibling. Even with the chimney, enough of this invisible smoke was floating around in the air. It was mostly useless as a dium for battle, but just as air glamours could be used to spy on distant conversations, as long as I was connected to the smoke, I could use it to extend my senses of sound and touch.
It was a uniquely bizarre sensation to feel the rise and fall of nearly thirty people's bodies. To feel their every breath disturbing the smoke. My expanded senses were surprised to find the do had air inflows. Air and poison glamour users had long ago learnt that humans all breathed out a noxious gas similar to that of flas. The fact that the quickly constructed shelter accounted for even that made want to go and demand more from Bors to explain his wonky control.
My attention was disturbed, not by Kristoff, who was still faking being asleep. No, a vision of madness had escaped the Seelie. I watched in fascination as the pegasus stole its way into the stables. Complete with concerned looks around and very light steps as if the ground was ice it was afraid of breaking. I was most impressed that it managed to unknot the canvas door with its teeth.
Kristoff chose that mont to “wake” and try and make his own stealthy exit. Gathering his things, he made for the door.
I swore if he saw the pegasus—wait! How had it retied the canvas? Fae beast or not, it was just a horse with extra bits which, as far as I knew, didn’t include thumbs.
“Just going out for a shit,” he said to the guard on the door, who rely grunted, having been half asleep.
Before the night had set in, and in part to show off to the increasingly amorous Alexis, Bors had extended the entrance—in part so the wind wouldn’t obliterate everyone the second they pulled the canvas open, and to create so squat toilets. There was air, water, and lightning glamour in the storm; no one should have to deal with that over a dicky bladder.
Either Kristoff was a very nervous shitter, or he was up to sothing as he forced himself past the second canvas door. I slid down from my perch and snuck through the storm, not really having to try to avoid notice. I was pleased with my infused body to fight the winds. Kristoff was less lucky. He was crawling on his hands and knees towards the wagons.
The moon was out, and there were breaks in the cloud, but the clouds were ripping past so fast it was a flip of the coin if any mont offered light. The light painted Kristoff's deeds like a series of black-and-white paintings. I watched him struggle to get beneath one of the caravan’s wagons—not his own, I noticed. This was the one Alexis had been in.
He fumbled around, his own sight near useless. I had landed on the caravan and watched his attempts from behind his head. He finally found the pair of little leather pouches tucked away beneath the wagon. Grabbing the larger one, he stuffed it down his shirt, and then with his hand, he began to scramble from all places towards Bors's tent. I watched him get sowhat close, but by this point, he was shivering and sluggish.
He had a bit of cultivation, just the background level you got from living reasonably well, enough to sustain him through his trial. Totally exhausted, he grabbed a small rock, tied it to the other pouch, and made to hurl it at the tent. That was when I decided to intervene.
I appeared out of the storm and caught the bag mid-flight. The moon was on my side, and the light lasted just long enough for to see his face fall. I then stomped over to him, grabbed him, and dragged him into my own tent.
My tent was well made, but the storm made it ripple and quake. The howling of the winds was not deadened as it had been in the stone do. I threw him to the floor and pulled out a small lamp, lighting it with a touch of glamour. As the weak light entered the room, I could see Kristoff looking totally spent.
“As one who is no stranger to skulls nor to doing a bit of digging if I must, I could sense there was skullduggery afoot. Now, here’s the deal, answer three questions and don’t start screaming, that way you I don't put you to digging your own grave.” He nodded.
“For our opening act, were you the only person who knew about your little arrangent with the hunters?” The man slumped. I’d got a true bull’s eye. He must’ve thought he could lie his way out, but not only had I quashed that hope, I’d confird my suspicion.
“I am sorry, cultivator.”
“Just answer the question. I promise you there is a way out of this for all of you unhard, but it begins with honesty. Absolute honesty.” I almost couldn’t say unhard. The word tasted like ash on my tongue. If he was forced and coerced, maybe. I just didn’t believe it.
“I’m the only one who knows.” I could sense the lie in his tone. I’d not have survived a day around the Harkleys with this man’s level of skill. He must’ve caught the look, as he began to gibber. “I’m the only one who knows for certain. Baste, the Guard Captain, caught hanging the witch charm they gave under the cart. I told him it was just for luck, but he was damn suspicious about it. I had to bribe him to look the other way.”
That felt like the truth. “What did the hunters ask you to do?”
“I was to tie both the charms under the cart, and then when we got to the cultivators’ bridge, I was to cut the smaller one free and leave it nearby. When that was done, they gave sothing to burn after I’d headed down the road, and they said I was to do it in the evening light. That was it, nothing else, I swear.”
“How much are they paying you to do this?”
“It’s not like that, cultivator. Yes, they offered five crowns, but they also have my family, you must understand. I only did it for my family.” I wanted to believe the second part, I really did, but I knew it was a lie.
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How did I know? Unseelie knows! I was used to going with my gut, going with what felt best when I only had half a song and a rough lody. This sensation was not that. It was an entire sonata sprung and burned into my brain. It was as sure a lie as my na was Taliesin. Wait!
“Shit,” I swore out loud as the next thought clicked into place. A horrible sensation ca over . This felt like actual Seelie nonsense to .
“Please understand, cultivator, I’m just a poor mortal.” His whining was getting loud. His salvation within sight, he got up to his knees to beg. The sight turned my stomach even as I reeled at my new condition.
“I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” I got as far as “don’t” before my throat closed up. I was going to hurt him. Even a painless death wounds the soul.
Cold certainty flooded through . I had to scan back over the last few days. Nothing. Not one. Not a fib? Not even a sarcastic remark or barb? I loved sarcastic remarks! I had not let a lie slip from my lips since the Lake.
I felt bereaved. That surge of grief where you didn’t know how to feel yet only knew you’d lost sothing dear. I was bereft of my greatest defence and yet perfectly aware of it being wielded against .
“Please, I have two children and a wife.” Again, the lie grated on . It scratched at my soul. My attention turned to the wretch before .
“Then why did you hang it under Alexis’s carriage, huh? What did they tell you? To fra so innocent girl as part of the threat to your family? No, that was it. She had a bit of cultivation—you knew. You knew it might be tempted. That’s why you wanted her to stay inside the caravan.” The man went taut, his eyes turning hateful, full of spite and malice. He spat.
“You cultivators are all the sa, just—” I struck. My lute beca a blade and took his head.
The knave had one last nasty surprise—a veritable fount of death glamour. I went to take a bellows breath but wrestled it closed just in ti. My chest burned. It was like I was a starving man drowning in rich honey. I fought with everything I had not to take even a whiff of his death glamour. I knew my stories. I’d seen them warp people who called themselves “Divine” into monsters for even their ilk.
It demanded my action, beat on my consciousness. It might have got if my soul wasn’t on fire from discovering the fae trickery. I held the bellows closed, eventually circling smoke glamour around myself to scrape it away, to fill my surroundings with the sweet scent of wood smoke.
I breathed gently, not my bellows breaths. I was safe when the mont had passed. It was exhausting, but I’d seen out what I ant to do this night. I checked the body again. He was not the first man I’d slain and would not be the last. He was a clear rogue, putting others in danger without a second thought, so it wasn’t going to keep up. How close I’d co to slurping on his soul was going to give nightmares.
Sleep and the waiting Unseelie visions would have to wait. My night was far from over. The flap of my tent slid open, and Bors stepped in.
“This day won’t end.” I slumped back into a chair.
“Can you pass the bags?” Bors's voice was flat. I couldn’t read him; his face was doing a great impression of a block of marble. I threw him the bag, and he looked it over and slt it. His stone face only briefly cracked as he gagged.
“I recognise the sll. Percy uses sothing similar to train her hawks. Alexis is a junior alchemist. I’ll ask her to look at it. This is what the Lynx was after. You were right on all counts.”
“I think the other is monster lure, I’ve encountered it before.” I stopped short of saying I’d concocted the vile stuff. My ti as a parfumier had given a good nose for such odours, and that one was burned into my brain. I’d be scrubbing my hands raw after this.
Wearily I turned to Bors, “How much did you hear?”
“Odd thing. I felt my bond go weird, which is generally a sign that Gring is up to mischief. I co out and find you stalking this man through the dark.” He waved, and the body folded into the floor.
“Gring snuck into the stables.”
“The knave! Told he was going to behave. So of those mares are going to be very tired tomorrow.” He went to sit on my chair but thought better of turning it into firewood and raised a stone chair out of the ground.
“So you heard it all then. I was going to tell you, I promise.”
“I don’t doubt it.” A truth again. Maybe my new power wasn’t the worst. It protected my fledgling friendship with Bors from this cold conversation.
“Then why am I feeling this discord from you? It feels awfully like an executioner sharpening his blade.”
“So first thing—I think, I want to believe you’re the good man you present yourself as.” Another truth. Actually, co to think of it, had I ever felt Bors lie?
“This leaves an avenue where I’m not? And you have to do sothing we’ll both regret. Or at least you will, because I’ll most likely not be doing much of anything?”
“Look, I don’t like doing this, but I have a duty, alright? Please, just bear with . The key issue is you have death glamour. I’ve known for a while. Your cultivation technique is odd—you suck up so much in one go. I could feel the ambient death glamour, the plants and stuff disappearing too fast. So, I need to ask you, have you ever absorbed the energy of a human life?”
“No.” I snapped. To my surprise, the marble visage collapsed, and he grinned. All was right with the world. For a mont there, I’d truly believed that Bors had been leading about by the nose all this ti. Bors was a terrible interrogator.
“Great, that’s the first hurdle passed. Seriously, don’t absorb any death glamour from people. It’s the fastest way to go crazy. It’s what the Inquisitors do.”
“Shockingly, I didn’t need to be told not to drink people’s souls.”
“Look, I wouldn’t be like this if you didn’t eat a monster core raw.”
“You followed ?”
“No, Gring was watching you, and that’s totally on him. And now you’ve confird it. It was a very confusing pantomi, so mind telling what that’s about? Because eating cores raw is what crazy people do.”
I pinched my nose. I’d never volunteered an answer like that before this whole fae lying thing ca to light. It was throwing off my ga. Well, maybe it could be a boon.
“Before I explain, I need you to make an oath you won’t share what I’m about to tell you with anyone.”
“Sorry, I have to hear it first. I will make the oath that, before we leave this tent, I will either have sworn myself to secrecy, or I will at least tell you if I feel it is essential to tell soone, and who I will be telling.” Not a word of a lie, according to this new sense. I settled. For the second ti since I t the Lady, I shared sothing I’d assud I’d never tell another soul.
“I have the bloodline of a phoenix. The impurities from cores are the key elent of my ability to co back from the dead. I burn them off to aid my revival.” Bors listened, nodded, and then steepled his fingers.
“Say it again.” Slightly off, but I did. His brow creased. I was reminded of his attempts to learn from the Illuminated text, like he was puzzling sothing out. After a full minute, he looked at again.
“And the impurities don’t make you go crazy?”
“No. I spent years chock full of them, waiting for my mont to—” I couldn’t say fake my death. I’d actually died! Why was this so much easier when I wasn’t aware of it? “—die in the right way to escape.”
Bors nodded, his lips moved, and then he slapped the table beside him, making jump.
“I agree to your oath of secrecy. I will not share a word.” He grinned, and then he sprawled back into his chair. “Damn, I’m so pleased that’s over. I did not enjoy that at all.”
“Seriously? We’re done? You co in here with a face like death itself, and now we’re just good?”
“Oh man, this has been like a bur on the inside of my armour. You seed like such a relaxed guy, said all the right things, were against divine cultivators, had a tragic backstory—the works! Then I had Gring going on about you eating hearts, and I could tell you had a death glamour gift. And I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up earlier. It’s just—I’m not great at sussing people out. Percy says I’m good with people but too trusting. Also, no offence, but you have a super rare fae gift that lets you co back from the dead and eat monster cores. Not an answer anyone could’ve expected.”
I felt my whole body unclench. I was not dead, and Bors was still Bors. He seed genuinely relieved at no longer having to deceive .
“I ask this out of morbid curiosity, but couldn’t I have been lying this whole ti? How do you know this isn’t all so elaborate ruse, a dastardly plot I’ve set up to bamboozle and confound?”
“So I’ll let you in on a secret, because I want to make ands for tricking you. Earth cultivators who spend enough ti in soone’s company can tell if they’re lying—well, sort of. It’s more like I get to know when your body is wary, waiting to see if the lie lands. My ntor raised to be honest or silent because of it. It’s not perfect, and it doesn’t work on Iron-level cultivators, but yeah, it’s still pretty useful. It’s why I really wanted you to be a good guy. You like never lie!”
I began to laugh—great, painful gales of laughter. I may as well have never left the shores of the Mirror Lake. No matter where I went, before the Lady of the Lake, I was but a puppet dancing on strings.
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