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Act 2: Epilogue

Prim and Pru

“Brother, what've ye done."

“What were needed, sister. Like I said, it gets where it needs tae."

“... I daren't believe it... And... and be ye well? Ye covered in blood!"

“Well enough, sister. Thank ye for protectin' 'er. I always were afear'd ye'd abandon her. Fer not bein' a raothaar."

“A'course not, brother. She's family now, on 'is word. Fur or nae. But there'll be hell to pay fer what ye did, surely."

“Let'em come, sister. I did me part, ye'll 'ave to do yers."

* * *

“... said shut up."

“I swear, if I'd known you were with Primrose, I wouldn't... hey, look, she's waking up!"

Primrose felt like those first days of combat drills under Jacob again; every inch of her body ached. She shook from the rocking of the carriage, winced at the stabbing of light. She tried to move and felt an icicle run the length of her spine, and the pained grunt tickled her throat. The subsequent cough made her groan again. She was on lying on her side where she usually sat in Jacob's carriage and someone had removed her weapons and armour for comfort.

“Prim, are you alright?"

That hushed, female tone... Gretchen.

As her eyes got used to the lamplight, Prim looked around. In front of her sat Jacob, shirtless but bandaged around his midsection and arm. He looked concerned, despite his obvious discomfort and his face was pale and sweaty. Beside him sat Gretchen, who held her sword pointed to the figure beside Primrose.

Bound in several lengths of rope sat Prudence, dishevelled and with a black eye added to the undressed cut on her cheek and shoulder. She was out of her armour and clothes, revealing a well toned but feminine body clad in simple underclothes.

Prudence sighed, then bounced in her seat. “Thank Gareg you're still with us! Please tell me you're alright. And you wouldn't believe the threats your friends were making against me. Handing me in to the bluecoats, or running me through right here and now if you never came to. Now you can tell'em we're as close as sisters!"

Primrose sat up and clutched her head as it throbbed. “... Water..."

Jacob went to sit up, but hissed in pain and held his abdomen,

Gretchen shot him a frown then said, “sir, please, keep still or you'll rip the stitches." She took out the provisions box and produced a padded glass bottle, popped the lid and passed it to Prim.

Primrose guzzled the cool water, some dribbling down her chin. It might as well have been raothaari beetroot rum with how sweet and decadent it tasted. The whole bottle vanished in seconds.

She couldn't remember anything to explain her physical state, why everything ached and throbbed. Instead, within the void in her memory lurked vague shadows of violence and slaughter. Words, voices and feelings of something all too familiar, almost a memory but not whole or tangeble.

As the world became less harsh on her senses, Prim realised it was dark outside. She finally asked, “what happened? How long was I unconscious?" She eyed Jacob's wounds again and her eyes went wide. “Kasta's mercy, Jacob, are you alright? And what of the others?"

Jacob offered a little smile as Gretchen retrieved the glass bottle. He said, “I've had worse. Jasper and Sahir as well."

Gretchen added, “all the same, we're making all haste to the city so everyone can be seen by a proper physician. You've been out for three hours. As for what happened... well, you did, I suppose. It's hard to describe exactly..."

Jacob gazed off to the side. Primrose followed his eyes and saw her's gear, though he was staring at Noran's Tooth, sitting clean and innocent in its scabbard. He turned back to Prim and said, “what she means is you single-handedly routed the highwaymen, had Lady Lile at your mercy, then seemed to suffer some sort of episode, like a seizure, before passing out. I had Gretchen perform a few tests on you and, thankfully, you seem to be no worse for wear. Besides, we can work it out later, and I'll certainly not look a gift horse in the mouth, Prim. You saved all of our lives."

“You certainly showed me what for!" Pru clamoured. “I always knew you'd do just fine without me, but magic? Can you even imagine Madam Henswick-"

“Keep on like that," Gretchen hissed with venom, “I'll take your tongue. Living bounties don't need to talk."

The carriage shook and jostled, then Jasper called from above, “Gretchen, we need you up here. If Prim's awake, let her take care of the bandit whore for a spell."

Pru squinted at Prim with her bruised eye, then grinned at Gretchen, “yep, I'm sure Prim'll take good care of me."

Gretchen lowered her head as she pondered, and glanced between Prim and Pru through her black hair, then to Jacob. “Sir, suggestions? I don't feel right leaving you like this."

“Go up top and help out," Jacob replied. “After what Prim did to our prisoner's crew, I doubt you need to worry. Besides, she's well secured."

Prim shook her head as the last of the dizziness subsided. “I'll keep an eye on things, Gretchen. Frankly, I've half a mind to black her other eye or run her through myself."

Gretchen handed her sword across as she climbed out of the carriage, and Primrose changed seats so she could keep a closer eye on her former friend.

Prudence eyed Prim with a hurt expression. “Look, I know I ran six lives worth of shame on your friends, but relax, I didn't do anything permanent. Hells, I've got more of a reason to be mad at you and Squire here for killing four of my men," she huffed and nodded to Jacob. “Not that I care much for'em... but anyway, what's with the evil stare? What happened to my li'l sis?"

Prim bit her lip, gave Jacob a quick look, then chuckled, wryly. “Right, like you don't know what you did?"

Pru shrugged, winced at her cut shoulder, then shook her head. “Care to give me a hint? I'm not tugging your tail here; I don't know what I've done. I came looking for you as soon as I got my freedom after being taken from the orphanage. All I found was Dewsigh half burned to the ground and an old couple who'd refused to move away. They said was that everyone else got adopted a few years before the attack, but that was it. I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Prim scowled. “You abandoned me! All those years of looking out for each other, and you betrayed our promise! You left and I was adopted by a vicious old drunk who would slap me senseless when he damn well felt like it! And then, when I was finally rid of him, I had to fight to survive on the damned streets!" She couldn't hold back the tears as she whimpered, “all because you left me alone!"

Prudence's mouth opened to object, but she looked at Primrose and studied her expression first. After a few blinks and a frown, she said, “you really believe that, don't you? That I walked out on you? That I broke our promise after seven years under Henswick?"

The tense air between them held fast, and it was only after a painful half minute that Jacob said, “perhaps it isn't my place to interject, but we're about an hour from the city. Now, I have no qualms about handing you over to the constabulary and giving Prim the bounty."

Both raothaar looked at the injured Jacob as he grunted, then continued, “but I might give a stay of execution if you want to explain to her exactly what happened." He turned to Prim. “No sense in holding a grudge when you can get an answer here and now. It would do you some good to earn some closure, if not mend your broken bond with Ms. Lile here."

Primrose sneered and said, “I don't want anything to do with this murderous thief, much less after he hurt you, Jasper, and Sahir."

“Only after your poncy friends killed two of my men!" Pru snapped. “I'm sure the city folk and nobility are full of stories of how me and my crew are a bunch of devil-may-care vagabonds without a shred of mercy, and yet I know for a damned fact that there are plenty of people with stories to spin. Care to guess why that is?"

Prim shot her an angry glare, but it softened as she thought of an answer. There really were plenty of people who had survived encounters with Lady Lile's gang. The price on her head was extravagant, but besides the fanciful and obviously exaggerated tales printed in the lilypages Prim used to read in her teens, actual lists of her crimes were vague.

She nibbled on her lip. “There seems to be a lot of mistakes in what they say. Like how you wield a gleaming estoc called the Piercing Tongue."

Pru huffed. “I even know the ponce that reported that codswallop. Lord Hallicard. He kept blabbering and pleading, so I threatened to stab his tongue with my sword. That was another fight where I wielded my poor rapier, too. No doubt the fool couldn't identify the difference between that and my dear Cuspid. More to the point, Prim, I didn't walk out on you... I didn't have a choice..."

Prim's whiskers flopped and she fiddled with her hands. The parts that rung true spiralled into painful guilt for all the hatred she had held for her dear sister. This also fed the old, deeply embedded blame for all the awful things that happened to her since the day Pru abandoned her. She didn't know whether to strike the woman or hug her. “Just... tell me what happened, Pru. I need to know why you vanished without a word."

Prudence managed a smile as she fidgeted on the seat as best she could, and cleared her throat.

* * *

I slowed my breathing and focused. I even closed my eyes before I took a long breath of cold, wintery air and announced, “cowardly crows corroborate and carouse with carrion and candouw... tsk."

Buttocks and buggery. I hated my stupid mouth, with its stupid tongue and my stupid teeth. Seven years of being the joke, no matter how many bloody snouts and black eyes I gave out.

“You nearly did it! You're doing great!" Primrose squealed and clapped. I couldn't help but feel a little pride, despite my error; she always made me feel good about myself. “You just need to slow down a little, smoothly instead of quickly."

“I know, but it feels like my head's fastew- faster than my tongue. And when I say things, I don't wanna stop in case I look stupid."

Primrose hopped off the bench and hugged me, pushing her cheek into my chest because of how short she is. I can still feel the weakness from her left arm from the dog attack.

The reassurance wasn't necessary, but my little sister's all heart, and I wouldn't want her any other way.

“You're not stupid, Pru. You've come so far with your elocution practice. A little more and they won't poke fun."

Elocution? She's such an adorable bookworm! I put my arms around her. “They'll just find something else. They always do but... thanks, Rosey."

The grand double doors of the orphanage yard opened and Madam Henswick stepped out. A short, skeletal human woman with sunken eyes, grey hair in a tight bun and wearing a hideous dress with one of those collars that look like it should be choking her.

Probably just wishful thinking. I swear she'll live forever. People like that always do. Damn hag.

“Prudence!" she said with her usual shrill, demanding tone. “Go put on your best dress and come to my chambers immediately! We have a prospective parent for you and I expect you there within five minutes!"

Madam Henswick didn't wait for a response. Her word was law, after all, so disobeying was a quick way to get put on book return duty, ten canes across the buttocks and no pudding for a month. At this point, I hadn't eaten sweets for half a year.

Primrose let go of me and pouted as her whiskers drooped. “Tsk, no fair. Though I suppose it's been a while since last time you got picked."

I shrugged and stroked the grey fur on my forearm. “They probably just like the colour. I'll be back before you know it, Prim." I patted her on the head and ran inside, though once inside, I slowed. The old bat has ears like a fox and I didn't want to be put on floor polishing duty again.

I reached the dorms, quickly made use of the washbasin, then got dressed up in my ghastly, poofy red dress. With seconds left, I hurried to Madam Henswick's chamber and knocked on the door just as the clock started to chime.

The door opened to the furrowed brow of the old hag and she let me inside, then said, “Mr. McTrelle, this is Prudence. She is ten years old, well disciplined in a variety of dances, of both performance ballroom and folkish styles, and plays the classic chalumeau and has been rapidly taking up the modern Vliechoven clarinet."

I didn't even see the man at first with the way he blended into the background, but he turned and smiled at me. A burly, well dressed human of around fifty years and a thick, full black beard.

“That sounds spectacular, Lady Henswick." He then bowed to me. “A pleasure to meet you, young lady," he said in a robust western accent. He had to be from just beyond the Bralran border, maybe Pernde. Possibly even the Isle of War if he moved away at a young age; it's hard to tell the difference.

I curtsied, as expected; the plan always started with acting normal, then work in the deal-breakers. “How do you do, Mr. McTrelle? It is both an honour and a privilege to make youw- your acquaintance."

I could feel the scowl on the old hag's face for that slip up without even looking at her. It was unintentional, but she didn't care. She would smack me the same way they would smack little Lisa for stumbling during dance practice, even though she suffers dizzy spells. Perfection through brute force.

Madam Henswick closed the door and clasped her hands together. “I pride myself on ensuring each child will be appropriate for further instruction as your adopted daughter. Each is bright and driven to learn for whatever courtly demands you may wish. I believe you requested a girl with good dexterity of the fingers and deftness of footwork, and I immediately thought of Prudence. I do have another if she does not impress, but she is still recovering from injury and is presently not up for adoption. Now, if we may proceed?"

Mr McTrelle nodded. “Yes, I recall you promised a demonstration. I cannae wait to see her perform."

Madam Henswick sat down at her piano, tucked her dress under her legs at the knees and placed her fingers on the keys. “Let us begin with 'Aloft on Winter's Breath.'"

She pushed a low tone, the one she always uses to give us a three second warning. I adopted the starting pose, counted down, and began as she began to play.

Say what you want about her, but Madam Henswick could certainly play the piano, and Aloft was one of my favourites. A smooth, slow dance with ballet steps, which increase in tempo halfway, then down again before the crescendo leap.

I performed each spin, hop and twirl as perfectly as demanded; I knew how each limb had to move, how much speed and momentum to keep the spins precise, how dainty to make my steps. Even my tail moved and swayed in precise, twists and flicks.

Mr. McTrelle watched. More like he studied, actually. Something about his stare wasn't just about being entertained. It wasn't even creepy, like the bad people Madam Henswick always told us to watch out for, who would take us away and we would never be seen again.

I didn't let it distract me, and not to ensure a perfect performance; I reached the crescendo leap, only I stumbled and fell on my backside. It caused Madam Henswick to release her fingers from the keys and cut the note short. She opened her mouth to complain, but Mr. McTrelle applauded all the same.

I suppose he must be far softer than I expected. Usually, considering the lile exchanged for adoption, any slip up would earn equal scorn from the prospective parent.

This whole orphanage was designed so we would grow up and marry into the nobility. Politics, not love, of course. The king was near death, the princess was too young and Bralran was going to be ruled by one of us raothaar for a while as the steward. At least that's what I'd found out listening to the old hag when she was talking to one of her equally awful friends one night.

I could never tell if Madam Henswick wanted to climb the societal ranks herself or if she just wanted money, but raising us wasn't out of care or love.

Which made this man so very strange. Even Madam Henswick didn't quite know how to gauge his response.

“Splendid, little miss. Very nice," he said, then turned to the old sow, “I would like to hear her perform with the clarinet as well, if I may?"

“Of course, Mr. McTrelle, one moment," she said and left the room. All the instruments were under lock and key in the classroom, and I was surprised she didn't ask me to fetch my clarinet.

As soon as Madam Henswick closed the door, Mr. McTrelle smiled at me and said, “it's obvious you don't like it here, yet ye intentionally fell over during your dance."

“How- uh, no I didn't!"

He raised his hand to beckon me quiet, but smiled softly. “You needn't worry. Your secret's safe with me, little miss. Truth be told, I respect someone willing to push against an authority figure as domineering as Madam Henswick. I've met a few other noble folk who've seen you perform and saw you with bruises and cuts... a bit of a rabble-rouser, eh?"

I couldn't form a response as we both heard the subtle clomp of the old hag's shoes, and the door opened.

Madam Henswick entered with my clarinet and handed it to me, then returned to the piano.

I wasn't sure how to proceed. I was planning to play off-tune to dissuade the man, but he knew me and Prim's usual ploy to avoid adoption. Even those that persisted despite our mounting 'mistakes' would often find Madam Henswick recommend one of the others, then we would throw a hissy-fit and that would put an end to that. Anything to stop us getting separated.

Madam Henswick said, “we shall play the Bralranian national anthem."

Easy.

“Actually, Madam Henswick, if I may?" Mr. McTrell raised his hand to help the old bat off the chair, which while she raised a wrinkly eyebrow, she let him take the seat. He adjusted the chair's height with the dial, sat, cracked his knuckles, played a few chords, then turned to me.

“Do ye know St. Zoeli's Lament?"

Oh. Oh crumbs. He was going for the kill.

Madam Henswick cleared her throat. “We are currently practising the Passage of the Saints in the advanced lessons, Mr. McTrelle, and Prudence simply isn't capable-"

He raised a hand again, this time to shut her up. After what the old sow was saying about me, it made me start to like this man.

He kept his eyes on me. “Do ye, or do ye not, know Zoeli's Lament?"

“Yes. I mean... I can twy- uh, try."

Zoeli's Lament was a frantic, desperate tune, and just thinking of it made my fingers and wrists hurt. A musical representation of when Zoeli's impossibly keen senses flourished and overwhelmed her, before she learned to sense through magic and, simply put, cut off her sight, hearing, smell and such.

I was supposed to be sabotaging myself. I was supposed to be making sure I stayed with Prim.

But I wanted to prove Henswick wrong, and he was showing me respect by challenging me. Something I'd never felt before ran through my blood; pride, a will to give it my bloody best. I ran my fingers over the shiny keys and tone holes of the clarinet, licked the mouthpiece, and took a few slow breaths.

Mr. McTrelle started the piece. The subtle, mysterious melody that lulled listeners into a false sense of calm, before he struck the first heavy chord, and I played as his fingers began to hammer on the keys.

I've never felt more myself, nor more alive, than playing music. Well, except for when I was fighting Big Heather, the orphanage's biggest bitch and bully, but music was the activity I wouldn't get in trouble for. I could stop using my stupid mouth for silly words and let my hands and fingers tell stories, show my emotions, reveal what rested in my heart.

I closed my eyes and just played as hard as I could. My fingers hopped from key to key, darting over the instrument so quickly that I worried I might drop the clarinet. It wasn't even the cleanest performance; I cut short several notes, failed to flutter the longer ones where I was too busy trying to get a better grip, but I was keeping up. A small part of me was astounded that Mr. McTrelle could play as well as he could, but I couldn't let that distract me.

But it did. I opened my eyes, saw his intense focus, and lost my own and stopped. My hands hurt and were covered in sweat, I realised I hadn't taken a full breath in some time, and a moment after I ceased, Mr. McTrelle did as well.

Madam Henswick's jaw was slack, but she soon recovered her persistent scowl and said, “like I said, she simply isn't capable of such a feat. Only a true maestro can-"

“Oh hush yourself and give it a rest, you cantankerous biddy," Mr. McTrelle snorted. “A ten year old, playing at that level? She's canny and talented. Clever, in a devious way, and she has a strong spirit. Consider her adopted."

The old sow first protested at the insult, then he took out a fist full of stringed lile and tossed them on her desk with an almighty clatter.

What had just happened finally sunk in. A massive mistake. “Wait, I can't leave!"

Madam Henswick took up the roped lile, scrawled something on a document on the desk and shrugged. “On reception of payment, the contract, as signed, is fulfilled. She's all yours."

I felt sick, but I stomped my feet and hissed, “I won't let you take me! I can't leave Primrose!"

Mr. McTrelle raised a bushy eyebrow. “Who's Primrose?"

The old bitch said flatly, “out of the question. She's still injured and I cannot let her leave before she is well. Not to mention the adoption papers were only set for one girl."

Mr. McTrelle looked apologetic, but he folded his arms and said, “please don't make this difficult, little miss. I've not the coin for two of you and I cannae break the terms of adoption. I'm sorry, but we must be off; it's a long way to where I live and the snows are something fierce if we can't get ahead of them."

I bolted for the door. I knew there wasn't any easy ways out of the orphanage, yet I had to get away. I never even reached the door before Madam Henswick stood in the way. She was old and thin, but by the time I shoved her aside, Mr. McTrelle's hands grabbed mine and I couldn't break his iron grip. I couldn't turn to bite him either as he wrapped my arms behind me and kept them twisted against one another. It wasn't painful unless I tried to move.

The old sow adjusted her dress and threatened, “if you won't comply, Prudence, then I shall dose you for your own good."

That wasn't an idle threat. If any of the orphans acted out or got violent, they would get an injection of a strong sleep medicine that made you doze away half a day and feel horrible for the following one. It didn't get used often, but she only needed the threat after we first experienced it. I had several times.

While I could see Mr. McTrelle didn't seem to like the idea of me being drugged, and he kept that sympathetic look in his eye, he held me as the last of the fight in me waned. And I just wept.

Without a hope, I was escorted out of the orphanage, into Mr. McTrelle's carriage, where he locked the doors and signalled the driver to take us away.

* * *

Prudence stared at her feet as she continued, “it was a long journey. A full week before we reached my new father's home out in a small village in the highlands of Pernde. I asked about you all the time, and he said he would consider adopting you, but he wasn't lying when he said he lacked the coin. Every month, more and more of his possessions had to be sold to keep us fed. It didn't matter to him, all he wanted was an heir to his fencing style and Henswick, if nothing else, knew how to train us well.

“Then, not long after I'd learned all I could from him, he passed away from illness. I had nothing keeping me in Pernde, so I travelled and tried to sell myself out as a mercenary and quickly learned nobody wanted a raothaar kid as a sellsword. So I took what I needed instead, earned a reputation and, well, you can likely guess the rest."

Jacob tried to chuckle, but he winced as he held his wounded abdomen. “I thought that swordplay felt familiar, but that name... Samson McTrelle, master of the Kingfisher school of swords. He was the chief instructor at the knight academy, so several of the older knights still used his techniques during my first years training, but he was exiled a short time prior. Something about a dalliance with one of the knight's wives."

“So there you have it, Prim," Prudence said, turned her unwounded eye to her and gave a weak smile, “I didn't mean to leave you. By the Six, when I first had my freedom when my father passed away, the first thing I did was seek you out, I swear! I returned to Dewsigh and broke down in tears when I saw the orphanage had been put to the torch. Then when I heard the rest of the girls had been adopted from that stubborn couple, I just assumed you had moved on too. I'm sorry, Rosey. For what it's worth... as late as it is, I'm sorry."

Primrose's old wounds from Prudence's departure tried to spin the story. All lies, they said, she's just trying to protect herself. She left Prim alone. Left her to get taken by that monster, Quinn Shelby. Abandoned her to fend for herself on the streets.

Her old hatred continued to push her, insist to take the fortune of lile. Twenty thousand lile, to be exact. That could buy the controlling share of another borough. It would be so easy, the pragmatist inside her said. They were hard words to ignore.

But she could see the large, illuminated walls of the city ahead. The guards and the constabulary, ready to take Prim's older sister into a certain execution. Just how certain was she?

Primrose stared into Prudence's glistening turquoise eye. It was wet from a few withheld tears. Her big sister, bloodied and bruised. Her protector, lost for so long but once more in her life.

No, Primrose wasn't certain at all.

“Jacob... I don't want to turn her in. Would... um," Primrose tried to clear the choked up feeling from her throat.

He nodded and he managed a chuckle, “well, I am known to take on all manner of strays." Then his expression turned stern as he faced his prisoner. “Ms. Prudence McTrelle, I have taken it under advisement of my aide-de-camp that you shall be placed under house arrest, rather than that of the crown's constabulary. I'll consider the terms of penance at a later time."

Pru shrugged, nonchalant, but loosed a subtle sigh. “Not like I have much of a choice, but if it means I get to work out this situation with Rosey, fine, I submit. Hells, I could use some time in a comfortable bed and away from my crew."

Jacob fidgeted and winced but flashed an uncharacteristically menacing grin. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear, I'm not going to just have you live in my estate for nothing. You're going to work for us under close watch. I would be a fool to not take advantage of the daughter and student of one of the finest swordsmen to ever live and, I won't mince my words, your swordplay is exceptional. But if you step out of line, if you try to escape, I'll have you sent to the gallows in a heartbeat."

Prudence looked him up and down, then smirked. “As you say, squire. I'll play along. Can I be untied now? I don't think you need to worry about me bolting into the wilds wearing naught but my skivvies in the middle of the night."

Primrose stood, drew Noran's Tooth and cut Prudence free, and after a moment to get feeling back in her arms, the two sisters hugged.

“Just like old times, sis," Prudence whispered.

“It's good to have you back," Primrose replied.

Prim and Pru.

* * *

While Gretchen had cleaned, stitched and dressed their wounds, Jacob, Jasper and Sahir were all treated by the house physician upon return to the Falkshire estate. The two guards weren't too badly injured and likely would only be off duty for a couple of weeks. Jacob's gut wound was debilitating, but the snapped rapier stem hadn't pierced too deeply and his arm wound was the more severe of the two. With luck, when the city tourney rolled around in a month's time, Jacob's sword-arm will have healed.

The Falkshire household was now effectively locked down since the master and two of the senior guards were injured, While Primrose wanted to help them, there wasn't much she could do in the estate for the next two weeks, which was when the next auction was due. Then again, Primrose had so many things she needed to check into and she also wanted to let things settle with Prudence in her house arrest, so she let Jacob know she would be busy investigating a few leads in the meanwhile, under the promise of reporting any new details.

Primrose double checked her list of new leads: she needed to investigate Gathard with more scrutiny, check up on Matilda at the St. Zoeli arcane registration, and see if there were any trace details she could learn about recent official visits to Goshev for Gathard's friend.

Her top priority right now, though, was to give the remnant to Father Cathrop and ask some questions about what had happened to her. About if there was anything he knew about Noran's Tooth, or raothaar becoming possessed, for lack of a better term.

Returning to Patterfield road always felt morose after her days spent in the splendour of the Falkshire estate, but especially after rubbing elbows with Isaac Randell as a guest beside the nobility. The mud splatter on her feet and leggings, once just part of the norm, suddenly bothered her.

Prim received a typical welcome from the residents. The kids asked for presents to go and fence at Bantam's, the adults asked how she was, which was usually a leading question on how they needed help with something, but as her days grew more and more busy, she didn't really have anything more than a simple hello and a goodbye. It wasn't until she opened the front door of Father Cathrop's little shop that she felt a pang of guilt at dismissing them all, but it was too late now.

Father Cathrop smiled at her as she entered and removed her travel bag and cloak, then they hugged. “Welcome back, my child. How did it go? No trouble, I hope?"

“As well as could be hoped, I suppose, but it was quite an adventure. I found my beloved sister from the orphanage. You know, Prudence? We had a talk about what happened at the orphanage and... come to terms. I'm hoping we can rekindle our relationship in full."

He smiled broadly. “Oh, how wonderful! You'll have to introduce us, and that we might be able to bring her into the community!"

“Although she has been gallivanting around as a ruthless highwaywoman, with a twenty thousand lile bounty on her head."

His smile ceased. “Oh... I see."

“She's under arrest In Sir Falkshire's estate for the moment, until we can better understand her motives and character. I believe she's still a good person, deep down. Anyway in terms of the party, and as we've already discovered, Philman Gathard was in attendance and trying to secure the remnant." Primrose reached into her bag and took out a square, wrapped bundle on the counter. “He failed," she said with a smirk.

Father Cathrop's eyes and jaw went wide. He raised his hands to touch it, then hesitated, as if afraid, but as a slow smile formed on his greying muzzle, and with a prideful glance at Primrose, he unfolded the protective cover and exposed the ancient book.

He gasped and just stared at it for a few moments. “And Kasta placed the sickly child into his cot," he suddenly said as tears began to flow down his cheeks, “and began to regale the story of her life. Through her strife and struggles, the young boy learned to fight, in body, mind and spirit. Her words were as an ointment for his body, every spoken breath an ambrosia for his mind and the meaning a cleansing for his soul. She performed this rite every day and every night until she had rid him of his ailment, and that boy grew up a scholar of his people, a wise man, a faithful man. So blessed be Kasta's stories."

He beckoned for Primrose to follow as he wrapped the remnant up, clutched it as one would a child to his chest and started for the Sibling altar in the backroom, but she suddenly asked, “Father Cathrop? Has there ever been a case of... possession in the old stories?"

Father Cathrop stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Possession? What do you mean, my child?"

“On our return from Sir Randell's estate, we encountered trouble. Jacob- I mean, Sir Falkshire was almost slain and I... I felt something overcome me. Something dark. When I came to, I had taken many lives."

He turned and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “As the Siblings show us, fear not your soul when in need to defend yourself and those you care for. As has always been the way, the Sibling Lords do not consider such deaths wrong if you did not take them unjustly, by Noran, or by malice, by Kasta."

“But I wasn't in control, father..."

“Then perhaps your hand was indeed guided, just as we are in turn guided by the stories, to seek the passage home. Just as Noran would cut a path, as clean or in crimson, in order to succeed on behalf of the raothaar. His darkness is both gentle and frightful, just as Kasta's light is both fierce but calming." He glanced down at Noran's Tooth at Primrose's side, and then back into her eyes.

“We know of the ongoing strength of the Siblings, so true must it be that in times of need, they lend us their might in their possessions, just as we learn through their words. Above all, we must protect ours, no matter the cost."

“Is that why you joined the navy, Father Cathrop?"

His whiskers stood on end and his eyes went wide. “... what nonsense is this?"

Primrose forced a wry smile. “Renard the Cataclysm?"

“Ah, of course," Father Cathrop sighed, reached his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes and pinch the top of his snout. “Isaac 'Big Nob' Randell. I'd forgotten we served together. He never stood out much back then. Oh, fie... yes, when times were dire, I felt it prudent to defend Bralran, but that time has passed."

“But you clearly left an impression. You'll have to tell me about your days at sea, sometime."

“I'm sure we can find a suitable moment for such frivolity. Now, let us see what this relic does when met with the box."

Father Cathrop undone the many locks on the door and let both of them through, dead-bolting the door behind them.

Primrose took a box of matches from a nearby drawer, struck one and lit a few candles at the altar, doused and pocketed the spent match. She then clasped her hands before the great carving of the Sibling Lords, one of each of their own forepaws clasped with one another. Below, the unfolded charity box sat, with the small grooves and lines hewn into the wood as a complicated map. The raothaari word for 'salvation', surrounded by a fine metal square, drew her eye, but she stepped aside as Father Cathrop approached the box.

He proclaimed, “oh Kasta, oh Noran! I come to return to you this sadly tarnished artefact. Please do not judge the humans too harshly, for they know not what they do at most times. Blessed be your protection that it survived so that it could be returned to its rightful place beneath your gazes!"

Father Cathrop slowly placed the book remnant upon the altar.

And he yelped in panic as it leapt from his hands and began to slide on top of the unfolded box.

Primrose stood between him and the book, Noran's Tooth quick to hand to defend him, but marvelled at the spectacle before her.

The rope binding unfurled, writhed and snaked, extending and thinning out. The former book cover itself slid into the lower corners of the unfolded box as the binding then wrapped itself into the spaces, hinges and edges before sprouting two loops that stood out from the body. Finally, the wood groaned and creaked, curving subtly back and rounding into a point at the bottom.

Primrose noted the map aspect was largely unchanged, but the two panels revealed two bodies of water, depicted as uneven depressions with simple wave-like shapes within it, around the lines and markings. It was only because of a lifetime of noting tiny details that she resisted stating the obvious as to what had happened to the remnant and the box, now joined and transformed.

Primrose put her arm through the two rope loops lifted it.

It was a heater shield.

Kasta's shield.

“By Kasta!" Father Cathrop cried and ran his hands over the impenetrable wood. “Truly miraculous!"

They were silent as both just studied the ancient bulwark. To have found not just one, but two of the Sibling's most precious belongings...

A distant knock brought Prim out of her reverie.

“Ignore it, I'm sure it can wait," Father Cathrop said, but the door hammered again.

“I'll see to it; lock the door behind me, father."

Primrose handed him the artefact and exited back into the storefront. The altar door clicked behind her, and she opened the one to the street.

A young man, a courier, judging by his horse, bowed to her. “This is twenty-two, Patterfield road, yes? And you must be Ms. Primrose Cathrop, going by the description given. I have a parcel for you from Sir Falkshire, m'lady."

“Oh... yes, thank you." Prim tilted her head as he handed a small, ribbon-wrapped box to her, then held out his hand. She rolled her eyes and placed a pair of lile in his hand, then returned to the shop as he climbed back on his horse and trotted off.

She placed the box on the counter and untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. A small note, and a flat, circular silk pouch.

The note read:

My dear Primrose,

With all the mishaps of our return, it slipped my mind to give you this. I have given this matter considerable thought and I asked one of your kin to ensure the message wasn't misinterpreted. Please, give me your response in as long a time as you need.

Eternally yours,

Jacoby Falkshire

Primrose's hands shook as she placed the note on the table and she took out the circular pouch. She licked her lips, loosened the draw string and emptied it into her hand.

Pure bronze, exquisitely formed into two stylised rats, with their tails as the join on one side, and their forepaws holding on the other, and their eyes were tiny blue opals. A traditional raothaar bangle.

And since the early days, a symbol of courtship.

End of Act 2