Sixteen: Insurance and Woe

            (I remember my first official spar. To make me feel not so alone, I met the wolf that would be a dear friend. As fortune would have it, he was my first sparring partner. I was thirteen then, and he was only maybe a year older than me. “This is the High Priestess's gift to you", the drill instructor, a leopardess, told me when in the small arena held for fighting.

(I stared at her, managing to hide how gobsmacked I was by that there was a wolf in front of me, apparently from the southern tropics. He looked unique to remind me that there were other wolves than I born with curious patterns. This wolf in particular had a white triangle closing down his torso, but it seems to start from a short stripe on each shoulder.

(I approached him cautiously. He looked stern as I did so. I held out a hand, saying, “The cubs here call me Sister."

(He accepted the handshake, replying, “My friends call me Themba."

(The leopardess spoke, “Take your positions."

(We did so. I drew my weapon. From the start, I had favoured the sickle-sword that they call a Khopesh. Themba drew his weapon, a spear. These were genuine, only kept blunt, to avoid fatal blows. No one was responsible for our injuries but ourselves. The leopardess announced, “Begin.")

-----

            I already had trouble when fighting this wolf, for I have fought no one more aggressive than grizzly bears. And I have seen what he can do to a bear. He speaks, “You came 'ere to kill. Yeh'll 'ave to kill me first." Making this fight short is impossible, knowing his skills. He could have drawn a gun and fired. So, why is he just standing there? As if able to read my mind, he continues, “Worry not about the guards. No one gets to kill you but me."

I remark sourly, “In it for the money? Did you dispose of them, so only you gain the monetary reward?"

He does not answer. Instead, he just pulls the dragon-like hilt of his cane, revealing the sabre. So, he wants a genuine fight without guns? How different of a mercenary. He then says, “If you wonder who I am, my name is Vadimir. Just Vadimir."

I draw my Khopeshes, replying, “Call me Lady Death." How should I approach someone as good with dual-wielding as I am? What should my first strike be on someone as skilled with combat as I am?

He dashes up to me, practically stamping the brick-covered ground as he does so. I leap backwards before he can hit me, for even parrying is a risk. I then make my counter by swiping both Khopeshes upwards. He blocks both of them with his cane and brings it down, but my grip on both hilts of my weapons remains tight, yet at the risk of hurting my own hands. I leap aside, to avoid his next move. I need a strategy. Brute strength cannot be enough.

My speed has to count for something. I test that by swinging my Khopeshes as a feint, him catching them both. I am quick to back up again. I need to get rid of the mercenary fast. I strike with my Khopeshes in a scissor motion at the same time as him thrusting his sabre. I could have cut his hand again, not that he cared, but he seems to realise the danger of continuing his attack, for he backs up as I perform a reverse-scissor motion, which is stopped by both his sabre and his cane. He relies on the claw of his cane, for he brings the cane up in an arc, cutting into the sleeve of both my jacket and shirt. I can feel how much the claw has cut into, which has me groaning.

I could have slashed his throat if he did not pull the claw out and back up. He ducks then makes a low thrust, followed by a swing of his cane. He gets the claw and the hook of my left Khopesh in a lock and makes sure to keep it that way as he thrusts. I block his sabre, but I have to use my strength to keep it away. He seems to need no effort in shifting the sabre toward my throat, and I can barely move it away.

I end up using a leg to sweep him, and he tumbles to the ground. I narrowly avoid both his sabre and cane's claw. When the mercenary gets back up, I swipe my left Khopesh, then my right, then bring my left upwards on an angle with my right, swiping sideways. He expects my next move. Even though his expectation is incorrect, the mercenary cuts my shoulder with the claw of his cane, only tearing the leather pad, but he still thrusts his sabre to me, just breaking the skin on my right midsection. With a kick, he has to pull out before getting to a vital organ. I strike back with two quick slashes, followed by an anti-clockwise flip with each blade. The latter pair of strikes barely contact his chest. Before Vadimir makes his counter, I dash to the wall, and then perform a feint, which he parries brilliantly. The mercenary proceeds with a barrage of swings and stabs, and I make him miss.

Vadimir, you will have to wait for next time. I leap aside, and then past him. I then kick him squarely in the back, forcing his face to meet the wall, and he falls to the ground. He might not be out for too long, but I believe not in killing an enemy while they are unconscious. That is the penalty for being an obstruction, Mercenary.

I believe no words from Vadimir even though he has not told me, but the truth is there, upon entering through a balcony. The vast chamber of this storage space is eerily quiet, and I can smell both blood and ash, both fresh. The first guard near me, I see laying on the ground, eyes wide open and a bullet in his skull. I then look from the railing, making out another motionless body near a large stack of crates, his throat slashed. Another corpse is not far from there, a bullet in his chest. Was it really Vadimir to do this to the guards?

I vault over the railing, to look around the floor of this vast chamber, filled with boxes, both of wood and metal. The only sound that I hear is the furnace running. There has to be someone working that if it relies on coals. Over my scour to the next corner, there are two other bodies, their chests slashed. Through the grate walkway above, I see another motionless body. None of them have been dead long. I head where the two hidden bodies lay lifeless. On the top of the stack of crates, I break the top of one of them, to know that they carry automatic rifles. I spitefully toss the one that I examined aside.

On this side is where the furnaces are. I pass the furnace, which has a low fire running. I climb the next stack of crates, and force one open with my stiletto. Upon lifting the lid that I loosen, I see more of the same automatic rifle. I look ahead, wondering about the metal boxes on the other side of the chamber as my hunch tells me of this space being for the firearms.

I remain vigilant despite the eerie silence in the chamber. I raise my hood upon reaching the ground again. I slowly draw both of my Khopeshes as I tread the cement floor. I remember to sniff the air and to listen for anything. In the middle, I stop and close my eyes. There is someone I should watch for, if not Joshua. If someone waits for me, there is someone here. I approach one stack of tin cases, which I carefully open with my blades. Under that lid, I see that my hunch is correct. These boxes are filled with bricks of opiates. I care not what this is sold as; what damage it does is intolerable. I look back to the crates, wondering how potent the drug is. However, that is for later.

As chance has it again, I sense someone right behind me, a gun pressed against my back. I have to take my time here. Before the enemy tells me to, I drop my Khopeshes and put my hands up. I let him search me before I sweep his leg with mine. I quickly duck, to retrieve my Khopeshes. Just as quickly, I turn around to a dog, just picking up his gun, and I stab him in the midsection. At that same time, I see a shadow of another dog, very close, and leap aside before he shoots at me.

Now, the rest of the enemies know that I am here. I see another shadow of a dog on the walkway above, aiming a gun, and I leap aside before he shoots at me. I hear a voice bark irritably, “Hold yer fire, berk! You could blow us up!" That is it. Keep moving near the crates. If there are explosives, they are cautious about setting them off. Keep close. Make them avoid the risk of wasting their boss' profits. The same dog that saw me and alerted the rest is the next to catch up with me, and I slash his throat. I climb a different stack of tin cases, and then leap up to the dog on the walkway, plunging both my Khopeshes between his upper ribs. I am quick to duck, awaiting the next gunshot meant for me. I hear the bang, and I am still alive. I throw the body off the walkway, prompting two other thugs to approach with their guns trained. I await them patiently. They are close. I leap over the railing—only to not land on the two guards. However, I stab them each in their midsections. With that out of the way, it is time I further cripple Giffard's clan.

I gather the cases of explosives and drugs, which I take to the other side. I am thorough with lining the bricks of explosives up against the crates of guns. I make a trail with the explosives. However, I am not setting them off yet. There is a wide door opposite the furnace of this side. This has to be it. I open it—

And it leads to a staircase. This is where they have the slaves.

Upon heading down the stairs, it gets noticeably colder, not just because I am below ground. This is worse than what I expect slaves to go through. I see two cats working the furnaces, feeding them what coals they have. With the steam that builds up, it has, apparently, as quickly frozen the moisture that it creates. I stride down the stone stairs, taking in the two wide cages scattered with cots of which there too few for what could be a hundred individuals, all of them cats, dogs, foxes, and weasels. How long has been Joshua been relied upon for keeping slaves locked up?

That is better left unanswered as I intend to enable their escape. The five weasels keeping watch of the prison just notice me, when I am near the first, but that makes them no more difficult to dispose of. I slice them up, one by one, all of them being fatally slashed and the last one being cut in half. I sheathe my Khopeshes, so I can pick the two locks, one on each cage. After opening the doors, I pick up one of the weasels' guns, to slam against the bars. That sound is enough to wake the few that managed to sleep, namely the cubs.

I speak, “I came to 'elp. You 'ave a chance to stand up t-yer kidnappers and other criminals. I would not waste it."

The first mother to leave the cage that I face, takes the pistol from my hand. I am not surprised that the dropped pistols from the weasels are taken as well.

I stop them when at the top of the stairs, to speak, “I plan to destroy guns that your keeper's boss safeguards. If you think y-can handle a rifle, now is the time." I stay at the wall where the front gate is. Only three dogs and four cats each take a rifle from the other side of the chamber and exit that way. Suddenly, the front door opens—

And there the mink is. Joshua Derrickson. He is not alone. He speaks up, his voice somewhat high, especially for his age, “I know you are here, Vigilante. No one else 'as the bo-ul or the foolishness ta cross me or Lord Lowell." What about Jack? The escaping prisoners have suddenly stopped where they are, blatantly filled with fear of him and his men. I count five subordinates of his. The escaping prisoners lowly question each other what to do. This is one source of sadness when given this dilemma: wanting only to have their own home, but are afraid to die escaping. Joshua orders, “Take them down." His men open fire, only to realise what the cases contain. So, they all approach where the ones hiding are. Those that have guns, open fire themselves, startling them enough for me to move.

I draw my Khopeshes yet again, and stab the nearest of Joshua's men from behind. The next, I stab in his sides. The third just turns his gun to me when I run my Khopesh up his torso, opening his rib cage. The fourth is still off-guard from the inaccurate bullets when I slash his throat. The last of Joshua's men, I behead easily. I turn around, to find Joshua right there, about to shoot me—when three bullets from different angles and close range fire at him. The same three slaves kick at him repeatedly, venting their anger at their kill. I just stand there, watching the example of how kidnapping affects the poor. They are as quick to tire before they move on. I grab one more explosive from one of the crates—

And I hear the howling of one word. “DE-E-E-E-E-EATH!" There Vadimir is at the back doorway, his voice having carried to where I am. I pull the clip from the grenade and hurl it, the second he starts running. By the time the grenade lands, he is past the crates of the firearms. I have no time for him. This is one fight that I have to run from.

I turn and run, the multiple explosions thundering and the instant fire roaring the second I am out the front door. I have no time to look back. Joshua and his men are dead. The slaves that he kept locked up are on the street now. Those should be the only things that matter.

I have moved so fast that I am in the middle of where tall storage houses are. Even from there, I can hear the fires' rhythmic crackling. Though faintly, I can see the orange glow of it. I pant as I realise what I have done. I would not be surprised if the metal sheets of that roof would melt together or misshape. I remember my worry that Vadimir somehow survived that. Even injured, he would not be far from me right now. Furthermore, there is something that I must address.

-----

            (“That was impressive of you", Themba remarked when we finally got to sit down together after the spar. It was lunchtime, and that fight must have left me famished. “I mean it", he continued. “You fight as if you were destined to." Is that it? Did destiny kill my mother and step-father? Or did they plan to show me this place eventually?

(I replied stiffly, “Thank you." I didn't even look at him. I was cold for a reason.

(Themba commented, “The High Priestess never lies. I know that. She brought me here from my father's branch for a reason."

(I looked at him sternly, seething, “Whatever she told you, I am not what you expected." I continued eating quietly.

(Noting my expressions, he pleaded, “We are all friends here. You can tell me anything."

(When looking at him again, I was just chewing up the mouthful of meat and rice. When downing that and a big gulp of water, I told him, “If you question about my bother, it is what I did in the arena. If it were a real fight, I could 'ave killed you."

(Themba sighed at that. He looked as if he pitied me. “I am aware that orphans 'ave so much anger. I did not expect so much to be shown to me."

(“I am sorry, Themba. I am sorry for hurting you."

(He objected, “Don't be sorry. Try remembering that in the arena, everyone is your enemy." He was right. When practising on the puppets, I had pretended that they were the killer from that day. In the arena, I expressed favouritism. On this day, I had snapped and the Savannah Wolf had already forgiven me. It still felt wrong, but I knew that I would face him again.

(I had just finished my lunch and he had barely eaten half of his when I began explaining to him why I had been here. I told him of my last day of living in a slum and that my mother and step-father had been keeping secrets, which they waited to reveal to me.

(Themba remarked, as if ignoring my descriptions, “My parents are spies for Mau-Re. They both taught me that one could learn patience with age." Wise beyond his years already, I suppose. I didn't understand those words right away, but they would sink in. He added, “I am perfectly willing to spar with you again. In fact, I insist."

(I looked away, still ashamed of how I beat upon him, especially treating my blunt blade like a real one. Enemies do not shoot wax bullets or fight with blunt-edged knives. However, it did not change that I would fulfil the Savannah Wolf's request.)

-----

            It is in the morning, after I have eaten breakfast, I return to the brick flat. I am clad in my blue suit, which has taken enough beatings now. I also wear my mask. It is how the cat to answer the door recognises me. Holly remarks, “You've got a bloody cheek." She steps aside, opening the door all the way, and I enter the display chamber of the cache.

There the spectacled black cat is, observing the utility of an orb held by a red fox in a white jacket. Lagorio speaks up, “Good. You're here." To the fox, she adds, “Pardon me." She approaches me, to add, “I hear you wrought-a major havoc upon the Lowell clan's assets last-a night."

I inquire, “How do the both of you even know whot I did last night?" I quickly add, “Not important."

Lagorio adjusts her glasses, muttering, “Since you say so." She speaks, “I 'ave news about the cat mother." She pauses, waiting for a reply, but I say nothing. So, Lagorio continues, “She did indeed die of cholera. Enough of the bacteria survived fer me to confirm it. In addition, she did have signs of dehydration. I am keeping her body preserved whilst I await a reply from her lawyer. Through repeated questioning, the kitten gave me her name and address."

I ask, “What about the kitten?" Neither Lagorio nor Holly answer, but awkwardly shift. I seethe, “She's not been told?"

Holly asks back, “How can you tell a child that a parent of theirs is dead?"

I remain focused on Lagorio, giving a different subject. “Was she carrying anything? Something with her scent?"

Lagorio answers awkwardly, adjusting her glasses again, “She had an 'andkerchief in her 'and-a-bag"-

I bark, “Get it." She gives me an awkward look before striding to the stairs. While waiting, I ask Holly, “What did y-do with the thugs?"

“Y-need not ask", she answers plainly. I understand that right away.

Rather quickly, Lagorio returns with a handkerchief, which looks like gold, but is made of silk and has a pinstripe pattern. I take it gently. I take a whiff of it, but then ask, “Were there signs of decay?"

She answers, “When you brought 'er here, yes. However, the kitten is-a right healthy. No signs of disease, either." Holly is the one to lead me to the door to the laboratory, where various weapons are shelved. Through a door on the adjacent wall, there is a small room with two cots. The white kitten sits on the left cot. The calico named June lays on the right cot, and how thrilled she is to me. However, that will have to wait, for I walk toward the kitten and then get down on one knee, making sure to look into her eyes.

I ask, “Whot's yer name, Love?"

She pauses before she answers, “B-Blythe…"

I speak lowly, “Blythe, I come bearing bad news." I pause, expecting an objection, but the kitten is quiet. “Your mother cannot be with you anymore."

She asks, “Wh-why not?"

I sigh before explaining, “She is dead… When one dies, there is no way of coming back. Your mother will never move, speak, or think again." Her eyes well up and she looks down, sobbing. I lean toward her, wrapping an arm around her, letting her weep in my shoulder. I continue, “I am sorry that it is like this, but you are not the only one to lose somebody important." She keeps crying. “I know that you cannot talk about it, but you can think about whot happens t-yer mother's belongings later. In the meantime, others can 'elp you through this."

Holly weighs in, “Let me be the one t-do it. I may be a bad shot, but I can protect her from whoever threatens us."

I gently back up before standing up again. Looking at Holly, I retort, “It does not change that I will return to the Sanctuary as well."

“Sanctuary?" the kitten asks.

I look down at Blythe again, explaining, “A place for cubs such as yourself. Cubs who 'ave lost their parents." I kneel down again, presenting the handkerchief, and state, “I believe this belonged t-yer mother." Blythe slowly takes the golden silk, which she sniffs. That assures me that she will be eased of the pain.

I stand up and face Holly, to tell her, “We should board the same train. I see no time to wait."

“Can I come with you?" June asks. “Surely, I can be of additional company."

I do not question it. “You may."

Lagorio seems to have overheard our conversation, for she is right there, and tells me, “Before you go, I wish to show you equipment that you might like."

Only out of politeness, I reply plainly, “You may." So, she pulls out a device and with the tap of the buttons, the laboratory lights up, revealing metal shelves of weapons and devices. Where she guides me first is to what I assume are explosives.

Lagorio speaks, “These are reminders of prototypes. We 'ave-a tested… pears in this place."

That has my interest. “Whot d-you test other than spiced pears?"

The spectacled cat chuckles before she answers, “My technicians 'ave tested smoke bombs—which we like to coll cloudy pears—and we 'ave been improving shock bombs—a name for which has eluded us."

I state, “I could use these fer my personal missions."

In that instant, I am presented two boxes. She replies, “Being my boss's friend, he might let you." It is out of awkwardness, I am reluctant, but I take two of each. She then presents two boards, speaking, “They 'elp your shoes insulate the electricity, so y-don't electrocute yerself by mistake." I follow the spectacled cat to the other side of the long counter, where she presents something to make me want to leave.

Lagorio speaks, “This is whot I've bin trying t-protect. The designer died getting the plans 'ere."

“A firearm that carries no bullets?"

Lagorio explains nonchalantly, “It fires plasma ras as substance. It can char wood and singe metal."

I shake my head. “It does not change that I hate guns."

Lagorio mutters, probably about what I did to that storage house. She then leads me to the opposite counter, speaking, “Well, I believe that I have something that can still be of use t-you." She shows me what should be armour plating, made of bronze, like from the dawn of empiric wars. The larger plates each have two leather straps with buckles. The smaller ones are curved like hooks, though not quite are hooks, have holes for what should be small rivets. Lagorio speaks, “I designed-a these to make crippling difficult-a for opponents, but also to make attacks more effective."

I comment, “What a pity that some of us forget that our own bodies are weapons." I examine the plates, and then lift one leg of my pants, to compare my boot to the plates. I am reminded of the combat that I had learned abroad. I ask, “Will Jack miss these accessories?"

“Messer MacNiadh does not care what my technicians build if they are not guns or grenades." I have to chuckle at that, but that she addresses him as “Messer". He might be flattered if he knew that. Lagorio adds, “Let me properly pack these fer you."

I pass her, to the doorway—

But there is something wrong. I hear the persistent cawing from my friend. I draw my Khopeshes. At the same second I am next to the front door, it is broken down with a battering ram. Two thugs, each carrying a rifle and explosives dash in. The third thug, now having a shotgun trained, enters, muttering, “My patience is at an end." I press my left Khopesh against his throat, and then slash it, making him stumble, choking. I lunge toward the two thugs, who let a few bullets fly. Two of the bullets graze me, making skin breaks and ripping small holes in my tailcoat. I slash across their midsections, and then upwards. They both fall to the floor, but still alive. So, I stab them each between their upper ribs.

The spectacled cat, having observed, speaks, “I know these men." She points past me, adding, “He is—or was—one of Giffard's favoured mercs. He must 'ave led the thugs storming here."

I inquire, “But how knew he?"

Lagorio sighs, “I wish I knew. There are many to sell information." I narrow my eyes at that, but I have to wait to investigate. I want to get the kitten out of here before her death is on my conscience.

-----

            (I still heeded Themba's advice for the second spar with him. I treated him as my enemy, but not the one behind the murder of my mother and Clement. There was a book that I'd been reading at the time about a captain of a brigade, which started with his warning that his story was anything but happy. It appealed to me for that he was driven by revenge on the deaths of his best friends.

(Themba and I both put up a fight. I remembered to hold nothing back. I still used the moves that I knew, with which he'd become familiar with. It was out of his anticipation that the spar ended with him winning this time. I had no problem with that.

(Mere seconds after the spar, Themba told me, “They say that mistakes are lessons." I had no point to give as an argument. “There are those that you might spare when you truly fight for your life."

(That, I was willing to argue about. I ask, “Will I need to spare those I fight?"

(“I know not", he answers as we tread the sand. “However, my father told me of a few opponents of his surviving his strikes and returning to challenge him again. You also might need to run if you cannot win a fight." I was willing to ask that of the High Priestess. I had already come to her with questions, which she would answer without hesitation. The conversation then shifted to what my friend's father was like as we headed to the dining chamber and ate lunch together.)

-----

            In only minutes, I have changed into my grey pinstripe suit and donned my eyepatch, and we make it to the west station of the borough. All four of us are there together. I have my luggage. Holly and Blythe each have a small case with them, June holding no bags. We are near the train—

When I realise that we are followed. I can tell by the odours of decay and filth that they are not paid by someone working for Giffard. I whisper, “Holly."

The grey cat whispers back, “I know." We increase our pace.

Eventually, the kitten calls, “Dames!" That is when I turn around.

Right behind her are the thugs following us. Three dogs, all of them wearing ragged work clothes. They quickly pull out their pistols when both Holly and I dash toward them. I am the first one to reach the kitten, shoving her to get out of the thugs' reach. On the first dog, I grab his arm, twisting it. I can hear the bones crunching followed by the dog's yell in pain. At the very second the pistols fire, I turn around, using him as a shield. Holly pounces on one. With that chance, I pull out my stiletto, tackling the other dog remaining. I have to force his arm away—

And the sound of another bullet firing threatens to deafen me. I slash at his arm before I shove my stiletto in his chin and run it down the side of his neck. Panting, I see the train just approaching. I look to Holly, who has done a good job scratching her opponent up, before getting a hold of his gun, to shoot him. I comment wryly, “I assume, that is why you chose a dress size slightly above yours."

That chin wag has to be cut short, for I am met with a terrible sight. I can hear Blythe murmur, “Not another one." I see what she means, for up close, there the calico is, with a bullet in her chest and her eyes closed. I look to Holly, who I consider lucky again. Oh, how I think more and more that her prevalence has been a fluke.

We have no time to dwell on this. I have to drag Blythe inside the carriage before the train is to leave, and we remember our bags.

The whole ride, I am distant from the cats. This is one of two things that happen when I help others. They live to fight another day, like Jack, or they die when near me. It is all too much… I have always killed criminals without hesitation. However, I am no stranger to the feeling of seeing someone innocent die. If I am to be known, it should not be as the one person in whom David confided. Everyone regrets what happened the last time of seeing their loved ones when knowing such. But what about June? Someone else could have died because of me, if not her. Furthermore, there are witnesses on who killed her. Oh, how I wish I could have saved her. I wish that she got to enjoy life more when at the Sanctuary.

-----

            Here we are again: the Sanctuary of Mau-Re. I am cold toward the serval as I enter. I am just as cold to Holly and Blythe when heading to the guards' quarters. There is always a free bed there, and I take the one that I favour, placing my luggage at its end. I sigh, removing the eyepatch. I look around, expecting someone, but at the moment, there is only one that I wish to speak to.

As if she is cognizant of my return, she is there, at the altar of the Grand Temple. I leave my blazer hung up on the end of one bench, before kneeling in front of her. She speaks, “Rise, my child."

I lift my head, speaking, “High Priestess. I regret our unscheduled meeting to be like this."

“Do not regret it, my child, for my door is always open to those in need", she assures me.

I see the pendant on the grey cat. I speak, “I have failed again… I hoped that another slave could be remoulded like Holly, but she was killed before she could board the train that we took… And I left her there…"

The grey cat's big emerald eyes close in on mine, and her hands nudge me to rise. I stay on one knee, just to keep my gaze level with her. She tells me, “We all fail at something, my child. Even I have met failure. You must never let it define you. Never let it keep you down."

I sigh, “You are right, High Priestess. I am aware of past failures, but the two recent ones have wounded me far more than the rest."

Pasht explains, “Wounds do not heal on their own. They need your will to mend. Scars are mere mistakes to learn from." She is right again. Vadimir: I have never faced a wolf such as him, and I need to be more prepared. I have a way to make sure of that. Furthermore, I have a promise for the cubs to hold out. I stare at the High Priestess in awe. Her mask of the wise mentor has never cracked or been smudged. As if reading my mind, she continues, “You came to me with your golden mask, telling me that you are to be death incarnate. You spent years moulding yourself into a warrior, to become death to those who deserve no mercy or kindness. Pasht is more than a fighter: she is a protector. She knows that to fight means to protect others."

I admit, “It is only out of sympathy, I helped Holly escape her captor."

“It is more than that", she objects. Even still, she wears her mask of the wise mentor. “You began wearing your mask, to kill those who deserve it. Now, you save those forced into prostitution." She makes no further statement, and she makes the right choice, for she has made her point. “Everyone has a limit, even both of us." That does not stop me from revering her like a goddess, as the cubs, her loyal soldiers and her spies do. I stand up and bow before I take my blazer and exit the temple.

“Big Sister!" It is late in the evening when I enter the cubs' quarters, and they clamour to me, even the High Priestess's daughter. They all want me to give them a big hug, and I do not deny that simple request. This time, doing so takes longer, probably because they miss me more and more each time I am gone.

Ghaliya asks, “Ma aldhy 'akhraka?"

I answer, “Eamali yakhudhuni waqtaan tawilana." She chuckles at that as if it is a joke. I add, “There is a lot about that I cannot tell you."

Ghaliya remarks, “And yet you would not omit the gruesome detail of a story?"

How I like that she gets to the point. “A story is why I am here at this time of evening."

The cubs whisper to each other, wondering what it could be about this time, but they should already know, based on what stories I have told them the previous two times. They huddle close to me, taking up two beds. Ghaliya takes the bed opposite me, but other kittens nestle close to me, along with the few fox kits. The leopard, cheetah, and lion cubs are on the opposite bed. When assured that everyone is comfortable, I begin.

“Sepril, the former god of the sky, was made the god of the realm of the dead after Kumhep embalmed him and made sure that the soul was intact. Kumhep has long since pledged loyalty in the events of this story. His sister, Konjal, was tasked with the dark secret of the realm of the dead. She not only made sure that the sinners would be punished, but she also had to guard the opposite side of the realm. As Sepril and Hura ruled over the side for pure souls, Konjal kept the sinners from escaping the side for the fractured souls.

“Over the centuries, Kumhep has judged the souls of those deemed pure. There were those to sin. However, those executed over petty theft or for doing the right thing were forgiven. Kumhep has also judged those whose souls had turned black with bloodlust, if not rage or insanity. Only on occasion, Kumhep has needed to raise his Khopesh or utilise his sorcery on a sinner.

“There came a day when the entire realm of the dead shook fiercely. Nobody, not even the rulers, knew the cause of the disturbance, until Konjal saw it. The barrier dividing the realm breaks, and Konjal is the first to detect the monster that emerges. The black-hearted god, Sepril's treacherous brother Slij, escapes. Kumhep is the first to reach the subdued Konjal—nobody can die in the realm of the dead—and she tells him what she saw in a giant black lizard. Slij has absorbed the fractured souls of the murderers and the deranged, their hate fuelling his own and giving him strength.

“The sky god Kanu, who has long since slain his uncle Slij, comes to them, telling Kumhep that neither of them can take Slij's monstrous form alone. Kumhep agrees, and Kanu lets him ride his falcon form. The two of them fly to where Slij is headed: the largest gateway between the mortal realm and the realm of the dead. As powerful as Sepril is in death, he only barely can keep the gateway sealed.

“As if she has been alerted of it, the war goddess Samav provides the diversion needed, pushing him down with all her might. Then, Kumhep and Kanu catch up with Slij. They already have a plan. As souls can unite, they can be separated. So, Kumhep begins chanting his spell whilst holding off Slij's attacks. Kumhep builds up energy with his spell in the process, which he channels to Kanu.

“The first strike to the lizard does nothing, or so it seems. It significantly wounds him, and the fractured souls begin pouring out. To speed along the process, Kumhep repeats his spell, while striking the lizard's neck repeatedly. Kumhep hesitates when seeing Kanu enter the lizard's mouth, but sees what he is doing a second later. He builds up the most energy he ever has built, all the while Kanu has the lizard's tongue in a grip.

“With enough energy built, Kumhep slashes with his Khopesh, beheading the black lizard. Instantly, the lizard breaks apart as the fractured souls having aided Slij separate. The chaos that they beget does not last long. With the help of all the pure souls, the fractured souls are driven back to where they belong. True to the promise of finishing it together, both Kumhep and Kanu sends what remains of Slij's black soul back to where it belongs. Konjal rebuilds the prison, which has been enchanted to keep all other fractured souls out and only one black soul in.

“However, that is not the last time Kumhep encounters evil. He remains loyal to the true rulers of the gods, but he will only cross to the mortal realm if it is business requiring his attention."

I look around, and everyone is silent. All the cubs, kittens, and kits look at each other. I can hear a few whispers among them. I sigh at that. I can expect that they will have bad dreams. “I'm sorry." That is all I can say as I stand up.

Ghaliya is the one to speak, “It is okay. It is a great story." A few of the cubs nod in agreement.

Sensing my hesitation to leave them alone, a leopard cub, who I assume is fourteen, says, “You can go, Big Sister. They may be scared, but not for too long." I quickly turn away, to hide my expression, and then I head out the door.

I call, “Good night. All of you. Sleep well." I sigh when I am outside again, the door closed.

-----

            (Over the years of living in the Sanctuary of Mau-Re, I still had not read through my mother's book or Clement's notes. Instead, what I had been reading over those years were stories about war and about life of vigilantism. There were books from Symphon and its neighbours as well as those from Dahalo, where the High Priestess had apparently hailed. All that I knew about her, even by the time I turned sixteen, was that she was wise beyond her years, being a mentor, a school's headmistress, and a spymaster.

(The High Priestess, calling herself Pasht, was a member of a cult that had been built, wanting no one of their nation to forget their old beliefs. To me, that lore made for inspiration, namely the stories of Pasht and Kumhep. I had realised that I had been holding on to anger toward the killer of my mother and step-father, and Pasht and her followers had been teaching me to balance my anger toward those deserving no mercy and love for those that deserve it.

(The first one that I hugged upon seeing that the orphanage was celebrating my sixteenth birthday was Themba. He had been closest to me though I had not known him the longest out of everyone I talked to. Dinner was the same as normal and everyone else had their casual conversations. I talked to Themba about my future ambitions. There was a tradition for those to become of age. Everyone to reach the age of sixteen had to plan for their future. They could find themselves out in the world or they could be an employee for the orphanage. I had chosen the former.

(I told not just him, but also the rest of the cubs where I planned to go, before they could start on the cake that was made for this day. I announced, “I have thought much about which path from the crossroads to take from here. I have read more than the stories of Ancient Dahalan lore and more than stories of war. I came across something neither Dahalan nor Symphonian, about which I inquired the High Priestess. These stories about warriors, but also displaying a sense of honour, which reminded me of my non-sentient ancestors. Orphans to leave here and come back as warriors of elegance were there before. So, I will follow suit. Within a week, I will cast off the piers from the Symphonian Strait, and take ships sailing below the Grand Continent. My first independent test will be how long I can take the sailing of around a week. That will prove whether I belong at my destination: Seikat."

(That made the cubs murmur amongst each other. Themba seemed to grin as if he had already known. How long he had possibly known was unimportant to me at the moment. He had no words. He only had a hand on my lap when I sat down. If Pasht had not brought him to the Sanctuary, he would have been only half of the support that I was given. Friendship truly is what keeps you going. He was a good sparring partner and someone I enjoyed talking to about stories.)

-----

            I get up from my bed upon the sunrise casting upon me through the window in the long cabin. I see that I am the last one in the guards' quarters. At least there were no men near to gawk at my breasts. I do a series of stretches, followed by callisthenics. Then, I get dressed. My choice is nothing special. I see no point in wearing my blazer if I am not leaving the Sanctuary today. In the dining cabin, I eat my breakfast: figs, yoghurt, and a slice of bread. I join Themba and his friends, who have already almost finished their breakfasts.

“Good to see you, Sister", he states. “And I see you brought company again."

I scowl at him. “Know you the pain of telling someone, you cannot help everyone?"

Themba suddenly becomes tender, objecting, “Not I. But I believe that our spies and assassins do."

I tell him of my activities in Subroot. I tell him of killing a black bear and his amateur thugs, to liberate child slaves kept by Joshua in a prison. That is followed by how I delayed his demise to find the white kitten with a dead mother. I do not omit that I gave Joshua's captives a choice to take what guns are kept in his cache. After I am finished the short version of my long story, he tells me, “I did warn you what would happen if you tried to help everyone." I am almost done my breakfast at that time. His friends are still there, listening. “You always had a good heart, Sister. I would be devastated if I was to learn that you died saving drug-addled children from slave traders. I know how hard hearing it is, failing to save someone. However, you cannot always save a brother-in-arms from bleeding out." How the realisation of mortality hurts. He finishes, “You are not the only one here with wounds." He gets up, his friends following suit. They take their empty plates with them. I do the same, seconds later.

There is a memory to bring back, in my storage space. I do not open my trunk, for it does not contain what I seek. Resting at the wall is a staff with a length slightly greater than my height. As an adult wolf is normally a hundred ninety centimetres tall, this staff is two metres long. I pick it up and hold it horizontally in both hands, remembering the vows that I made the day of departing where I have obtained this weapon, and the sword mounted on the wall, above the trunk.

I am brought out of my thoughts by a familiar voice speaking, “What brings you here today?"

I turn around, lowering the staff, and ask back, “Mean you, my store or the Sanctuary itself?"

“The Sanctuary", Ghaliya clarifies.

Eyeing the staff, I answer, “I came here not only to ensure the safety of an orphan. Regardless of age, there comes a time you realise weakness or a time you realise how much you've forgotten."

She, too, has her focus on the staff, for she asks, “Can you show me how to use those?" She nudges her head, indicating the mounted sword.

“I could", I answer. “But mastering them takes more than one lesson." Maybe I could learn something myself from teaching my idol's daughter about such elegant weapons.

So, we are at the training grounds with dummies set up. We still had to wait on a carver, to make wooden replicas of the weapons. With Ghaliya ready, I speak, “First lesson about using the weapon: the hilt." I see how well the weapon has been copied. “It is made to be held with both hands." She places her other hand below her dominant hand. She is left-handed like I am. I see that she does not struggle so much. “Good", I murmur. I speak up, “Now, try the high stance." She raises her arms. Almost immediately, I add, “Stop." She lowers her arms. “You are shaking too much." I change the subject. “Try a thrust." She does so, but by flexing her arms. I say, “Now, try thrusting with your back." She manages to do so like I saw my classmates would do.  “Good. Now, aim higher." She thrusts higher, hitting the target, though barely. We go through a series of slashes to practice on the dummy, showing me where Ghaliya could improve.

It is over the evening, I show Ghaliya the basics of using the staff. I show the blade end, making it come off as a spear. I tell her, “As the Katana is the symbolic weapon of the men, the Naginata is the symbolic weapon of the women." I present the one I own, and have it aligned with the wooden duplicate that she has. I continue in my explanation, “I am not the first woman to practice the Seikatan ways of the warrior. Nor will I be the last. Naginata became part of a woman's practice in the spear's obsolescence for war and became a dowry for nobles. The wives would teach themselves to utilise such a weapon to protect their homes." I stand up straight and lower my arms, the staff in one hand. “'Twas the first weapon they taught me to use. Then, I was taught to fight utilising the Katana."

Ghaliya comments, “The spear is easier to handle with both hands." I circle her, examining her stance. Like I expect, she has her dominant foot forward, aligned with her dominant hand.

I order, “Switch stance." She reluctantly does so. Understandable. Ghaliya shows that she can still handle the weapon with the hands swapped levels. However, her right foot is not pointing as straight as her left. I touch there, to correct it. I order again, “Switch back." She does so, to her contentment. I then run a series of drills. I have her show me how she thrusts and how she slashes with the spear. She seems to perform with the weapon with much fewer problems.

When it is dark out, I explain to her, “When you cannot reach the vital organs of someone much taller than you, more can be done with injuries when you hit the legs." I reach down, pointing to the side of my leg, where the upper leg meets the hips. “At this level, you can attack an artery." Straightening myself and moving the staff back to my left hand, I continue, “I know not how long it takes anyone, but I once stabbed that artery, giving me the chance to slash his neck, and he bled out." Giving this fact seems to not disturb Ghaliya even a little. “Just bear that in mind. It might save your life."

For the next six days, while teaching Ghaliya what I know of utilising a Naginata, I also brush up on what I remember from abroad. The plates that can be fitted to my boots have given me that idea. If anything good has come out of my encounters with Vadimir, it is that I need be more unpredictable. I will be sure to thank him for that along with the tear that he made in the stitch in my tailcoat.

To boot, I weigh my options. I consider not just who to go after next, but also where I should go next and what I should await. The repeated ambushes on Lagorio are only the start of it. Somebody knows…

In the evening, having worn myself performing the same manoeuvres for maybe the hundredth time on the same day, I end my practice.

It is in the hot spring, I find company. The low, occasional boiling from the furnace below is to be not the only sound near me. There the grey cat is, giving me a familiar scenario. She sits in the spring, to my left. I ask, “All right, Holly?"

“Never be-ur, Death." She squeezes my hand.

I say, “What you and I had wos not meant to start a relationship."

“I know", she responds. “It wos only business." She nestles to me.

I speak, “You've seen others die."

She sighs. “I have…" I am about to question her, when she continues, “At the Dented Shield, I tried making friends with other prostitutes. Only slaves can be there fer slaves. There wos one friend I had, who was a year older than me. She got me through my first heat… I wos so attached to 'er that I wondered if she and I could escape together… Then, she killed a lushington of a patron who punched her. She broke a wine bo-ul on 'is head, splitting 'is skull. Crown 'erself shot my friend…"

I respond, “I know the dangers of making connections. Jack is 'ard t-kill, but there might be something about me t-lead Giffard's people to 'im."

“Death", Holly whispers, turning me to look into her green eye and blue eye. “What happened to David and what happened to June are not yer fault. You were not the one to kill them. You did whot you could." That is it: if not the High Priestess, I need to turn to someone who might understand.

I whisper back, “Holly, when you find a lover, your feelings will threaten to control you, or your mind will play tricks. When you feel love, you will just know that you feel it." She kisses me. We stay in an embrace for a while, enjoying each other's comfort.

-----

            After breakfast, I have my clothes packed up along with my notes and weapons. My raven friend accompanies me outside the guards' quarters as I consider my options for a few more minutes. As if reading my mind, Ghaliya is there the second I reach my conclusion.

She asks, “So, where will you next?"

I reply coldly, “To the place that rumours claim no one returns from."

That widens the pupils of her big eyes. “But that is suicide, Big Sister! Please reconsider!"

“I may need to disprove the city myth in the process. Furthermore, it is a place I might find answers on Giffard."

She stands in front of me, to align her gaze with mine. She still has her pupils wide. She begs, “It does not change how dangerous only the residents are! The criminals are merciless! The poor are so far beyond 'elp that the borough's council"-

I interrupt, “Do not worry so much about me, Ghaliya. I can take care of myself."

She wraps her arms tightly around me, crying. I know how hard it can be to part with someone, even when you know not when the time you see them is the last. She then hastily pulls away, to, equally hastily, search her pockets for something. She then pulls out a bronze disc with two flame-like emeralds. “Take it", she says plainly.

I take it in my good hand and examine it. I examine the carving of the small creature in the disc, to which I give a wry smile. I kneel down, to tell Ghaliya, “I assure you, I will give this back to you." I wrap my arms around her, making the embrace last long.

I then stand up, making my raven friend instinctively leap from the ground and flap his wings, cawing. I let her see my face without my eyepatch before I turn around and head to the front gate. I have already told Themba and the High Priestess what choice I have made, which had them pray for me. I have already been in the piss-poor boroughs. My destination is a place that sounds like nothing new.