Rhian

First thing I did after getting back from Leberecht was call an emergency town hall in Oskari.

Frankly, I didn't expect anyone to show up, but there they all were. The Widow's Peak was packed. The common room and the den were overflowing, and the people who couldn't fit gathered around the loft on the second floor, peering down over the railing. Alexander had somewhere else important to be that day, but Ivana held her place behind the bar. I'd filled her in on my plan seeing as we were friends, and she agreed to help for the same reason.

After checking my watch-slash compass—a minute past three—I dragged a stool across the floor to get things rolling. Reckon it was obnoxious as all hells seeing nobody was saying a goddess-be-damned word. See, the villagers were the worst kind of angry. They were the quiet kind of angry.

I climbed the stool, and Marta took her post beside me, looking slick in blue and gold with Michael's sword strapped to her back.

The villagers stared straight at me, right along with all those creepy portraits scattered around the room.

"Hello," I shouted. "Firstly, I understand why you're all upset."

Crack. The most unfortunate part of what happened next wasn't the egg hitting me square in the forehead, it was the goo dripping down my face. I'd seen it coming. I could have dodged it, but I felt it was important to let folks have their say.

"Right," I said. "That's fair. Anybody else wanna have a go?"

Marta side-eyed me. She looked just like Michael in the minute, and I knew—she gets hit, I die.

Crack, crack. One to the chest, another smack in the arse.

"All right—"

Another villager, not too far from the front, raised her egg and chucked it—missing me by about a league and sending it straight into the hearth.

"Are we done?"

Crack. The next assault came from the peanut gallery, landing on the top of my head.

I wiped the goo from my eyes.

"All right, as I was saying, I understand why you're all upset. The church was an important part of your history. But let me start by—"

Let me start by nothing, because of-bloody-course, the egg in the fire exploded, showering me in white and yellow gunk and burnt bits of shell. Whatever. I'd been covered in worse, and I wasn't the only one who'd have to deal with the stench. They did that to themselves.

I scanned the crowd. "Where's Captain Lobodin?"

Seemed nobody wanted to answer my question until somebody did.

"Captain Lobodin passed away a few days ago."

Awkward.

"He'd been sick," another added.

I remembered Strauss saying something about the man having problems with his lungs, having worked all those years as the village smith.

"Right, my condolences," I said. "Who's your new Captain, then?"

The crowd shook their heads and shrugged.

I side-eyed Marta.

"Look, the reason I called this meeting is to tell you you're all in danger," I said. "And we—me, Father Strauss, Michael, the peculiar lass with the goggles you lot find so funny—have been sent here to help or die trying. See, there are these fuckers we're fighting. Not Partisans, but not Barrens, neither."

The crowd exchanged confused glances.

"They can do almost everything we Partisans can do, only they can do it all at once."

The crowd exchanged confused murmurs.

From behind the bar, Ivana said, "Let me demonstrate." And one minute she was there, and the next she was gone. When she finally reappeared, she was standing to my right. Ivana's strong but silent guard moved in front of the door. I wondered if he was one of Those Things, and then I reckoned he was.

The crowd exchanged agitated chatter.

"She's cursed!" one man said.

The others agreed.

"We don't know what makes us this way," Ivana explained.

"You lot have got the right to be pissed. We all do," I added. "We've all been lied to. We've all been taken advantage of by Palisade. But like I say, knowing the truth makes the truth a lot less dangerous, and—"

—everything stopped but the taps, one for every slow-arsed step he took.

He wore an amethyst-coloured suit that day, much like the amethyst ring I had in my bag. Nobody could take their eyes off Zacharias Vonsinfonie. Not even Ivana.

I climbed down from the stool, but I didn't know why. It just happened. He smelled so bloody good, like fresh rain and fire. He put his hand to my cheek, and everything stopped but the song. The owl flute thing, the strings, and a feeling that I could do no wrong. There was no talking along with the music this time. No riddles, or clues, or stupid bloody nicknames.

The bard circled the room while the song played. Around and around, touching everybody's faces. Most stood until the very end. Others stood until they dropped to the floor and crumbled into dust. Ivana warned there'd be spies at our town hall, but it didn't bloody matter now. I watched him press his hand to her face, gave her cheek a gentle pat, and then he carried on.

By the time the song stopped, he was gone. I checked my watch-slash-compass. Quarter-to-four. Nearly an hour had passed since I'd dragged the stool across the room. Nobody seemed to mind. Nobody seemed to mind about the three piles of ashes, neither.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I'm hungry," one lass said.

"What's on the menu today?" another asked, looking to Ivana.

I side-eyed Marta again. Looking stunned, she still hadn't moved a muscle.

"Did you lot just forget everything I said?" I asked.

"You were telling us that we're in danger," some man said.

"But how could we be?" the woman on his left continued.

The next voice came from above. "Yeah, how could we be, when we have you here?"

"Who?" I brought my hand to my chest. "Me?"

"Our saviour," the crowd exclaimed.

I side-eyed Marta again who shook her head and shrugged. It was about bloody time I got the recognition I deserved. And in case somehow you don't know me by now, I'm kidding, obviously. The whole affair was uncomfortable.

Still to my left, Ivana whispered, "I'd just go with it. For now."

I squinted, side-eying her this time.

"All right, then," I said, addressing the crowd. "I'll be your saviour. And as your saviour, my first order of business is to announce your new Captain."

The crowd cheered.

"You all remember Michael?"

They all remembered Michael.

"Well, meet his sister, Marta."

Turned out, winning back Oskari's favour was easier done than said.

And I didn't even have to do it myself.

With Peter at the reins, we packed into the carriage. It was quiet for a time, everybody having their own worries to process and whatnot. For Marta, reckoned she was realizing right quick what she'd done. She'd abandoned her job, her family, her city—no telling whether she'd be allowed back inside the walls. Never mind Michael was still in Leberecht being painted on or what have you. Add to that, she'd finally met one of her idols—sort of—and that whole thing was bloody weird, as usual.

As for Ivana—she'd been around for about five centuries, and according to Alexander, the bard had been asleep for about four. I wondered if she knew him. I wondered why he spared her, and then I wondered if she was wondering that also.

The carriage rolled along at a quick pace.

"So, Marta," I said. "Welcome to Oskari. Regrets?"

"I just—Michael—was this his life?"

"I'm not gonna lie—Michael's been through hell. The world's got big problems, too, but not these kinds of problems. None of us knew exactly what we were getting into coming out here."

Marta took a moment to think. "I guess that's comforting in a way."

"Aye, I get that. Not dead yet, right?"

Marta nodded.

"So, what's your plan, Rhian, with an entire village at your heel?" Ivana asked.

"Fix them so they're not," I said. "Whatever he did to them, reminds me of the happy people back in Leberecht."

Marta looked to Ivana. "What did he do to them?"

Obligatory carriage ride update: it was bumpy, and cold, and we were nearing The Estate by now.

Ivana leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. She was wearing one of them sharp suits again—deep blue with a vest, and a black and white striped shirt. "You might think it was a mind trick, but no. Empathy. Zack's specialty."

"What did you lot feel when he touched your faces, then?" I asked.

Marta shrugged. "It's like when you have a word stuck on the tip of your tongue. You remember it, but you also don't remember it. I think it felt peaceful, though."

"Speaking of this afternoon—I guess congratulations are in order, Captain," Ivana said.

"Yeah, I should be pissed off about that," Marta replied.

"What, still feeling too mellow and you'll get me later?" I asked.

Marta smirked. "Actually, it was a good call. I remember you telling me Oskari was starting to feel like home to Michael. It feels right, you know? Besides, it'll keep me busy."

When the carriage stopped in front of The Estate, Alexander was waiting outside. He welcomed Marta to his home like a proper host and whatnot, and then he watched as Ivana let herself in through the double doors. Peter and Marta joined her, until it was only me and Alexander standing on the circular driveway.

"I have news," he said.

I narrowed my eyes, probably.

"Good news," Alexander added. "My contacts have reported on Adeline. She is safe."

"Where is she?"

"Jaska."

"Alone?"

"Presumably. According to my receptionist at the glassworks, she came in with an order for six perfume bottles."

"The hell?"

Alexander shrugged. "One of my other contacts has further informed me she's found a job within her establishment."

"Adeline got a job? Doing what?"

"She's employed as a bartender."

"A bartender? What, why? Where?"

"Well—it would seem your engineer has found a job at the brothel."

Of course she bloody had. And somehow, that wasn't the craziest thing I'd heard all day. Bottom line: The Squeaky Lass was safe.

Three people down, four to go.

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