Chapter 2

I was mildly surprised to wake up.

On the whole, I don’t like surprises. In my line of work, surprises are fatal, as often as not. Just this once, I was willing to make an exception.

I opened my eyes and took stock of my situation. Light? Very little. High concentrations of mana interfere with light in ways that are poorly understood, mostly because high concentrations of mana aren’t typically survivable. Much like water, we need mana to live. Also like water, too much of it will kill us as easily as too little.

And yet, I was alive. I could feel my fingers and toes (ow), so I was reasonably sure my back wasn’t broken. A quick jaunt around my mouth with my tongue told me I hadn’t lost any more teeth, so no one picked out the gold ones. That’s always a concern on a battlefield. No spots of unusual numbness, cold, or heat, so probably no deep punctures or internal bleeding. Aside from a full body ache and the sort of fatigue that can only come from battle, I was doing remarkably well.

Odd.

Odder still: my head was resting on something soft. My eyes still weren’t working properly, so I explored my unexpected pillow with my hands. Linen? Damp, musty linen, but still linen, with a layer of silk underneath. Where the hell-

“I’ll thank you to leave my dress alone.”

Oh. Right. Knife witch.

General Sagar was a great beauty by anyone’s standards. Why her mistress insisted one of the top 5 deadliest fighters in her army wear the uniform of a common scullery maid, I could only guess.

“My apologies, general. I didn’t realize it was you. Um…why-”

“You saved me,” she said simply. “As helpless as I was, you could have clapped me in irons and turned me over to the hero, and I’d have scarcely been able to stop you. Instead, you treated me with the courtesy owed to one of my rank. In doing so, you gave me the chance to make my escape. You have my thanks, Sclopetarius Nock. I took the liberty of healing you to show my gratitude.”

“Ah. That explains why I can’t feel any bones poking through skin. How are you, General?”

“There’s enough mana down here to heal a thousand wounds more grievous than the ones you dealt me. I didn’t realize at the time, but you were doing your best not to injure me in ways that couldn’t be repaired. Foolish, but noble. I am, again, grateful.”

“I try not to kill when I can help it,” I said. “And if I’m not gonna kill, I’m certainly not gonna cripple.”

She snorted.

“Morals? On the battlefield? You’re either a rare breed of fool or a saint. Perhaps both.”

“Neither,” I said. “Not morals, just…practicality. Killing rips a hole in the world, and all kinds of things rush to fill it: grief, anger, resentment, guilt. You of all people ought to know that.”

Her whole body went still. I don’t mean she stopped moving, I mean, she froze completely. That’s not something humans can do consciously. It’s an animal response to danger. I heard tell she was a beastfolk, but I didn’t quite believe it until now. Flir, in high elf fashion, despises demihumans. Hell, she despises humans.

Maybe that explained the maid uniform. The General was too deadly to ignore, even for Lady Flir, but she wasn’t about to let a beastfolk hold rank without making damn sure she knew her place.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“No. You made it sound as if you know who I really am. That…startled me.”

I tried to sit up so I could look her in the eye. Strong hands held me down.

“You’re still healing,” she scolded. “Stay put.”

“Sorry. And, um, I don’t know who you are, beyond the obvious,” I said. “It’s just, I’ve seen you fight plenty, and you fight like someone who understands the value of life. You don’t kill if you don’t have to. When you do, you make it quick and painless. That strikes me as someone who’s careful about the holes she leaves behind.”

She stiffened again. There might have been muttered cursing under her breath, but, well, ignimancy ears.

“What did you say?”

Her voice came out in a pained hiss. Catfolk, maybe?

“Er. You strike me as someone who’s careful about the holes she leaves behind?”

She actually hissed this time. Definitely catfolk.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend,” I said.

“I’m not offended, just…surprised. I never thought of myself as…as…nevermind. It’s not important,” she said. “You are right, though. I take no pleasure in killing. A necessary evil is still an evil.”

“On that, we agree,” I said. “I gotta ask: what’s a gal like you doing working for someone like Lady Flir?”

Something I was saying was setting her on edge, but I didn’t know what. Either way, I did my best to hold still until she broke free from the freeze reflex. That was a precursor to fight or flight, and catfolk aren’t known for aeromancy.

“One does not choose to work for Lady Flir. One is chosen,” she said. “I was chosen before her rebellion. After she rebelled, I could either follow her or be culled by the Crown for serving a rebellious Lady. If the sentence is the same, why not earn it?”

“Hard to fault you there,” I agreed.

“You’re no friend of the Crown yourself,” she said. “Why do you seek my Lady’s head? Has she wronged you in some way?”

“Not personally, no,” I said. “Lady Flir is a bully, is all. I mean, sure, so is King Garus, but he’s not an ignimancer.”

“And Lady Flir is?” she asked.

“She hides it these days, but yeah,” I said. “We actually trained under the same crusty old bastard, fellow by the name of Pesden. She hung up her pistols when he kicked her out of the order for, well, the same kind of stuff she’s doing now. If I wasn’t on her trail, Pesden would be, and he’s too old for hunting trips.”

“Unbelievable,” she said. I could faintly make out the motion of her shaking her head in wonderment. “You challenged a Sicarius in close combat with that ridiculous musket because my Lady offends your sensibilities, and so you could spare an old man the inconvenience?”

“That sums it up nicely, yes.”

“Humans,” she said, spitting the word like a curse.

“Pesden is a dwarf,” I said brightly.

“Humans and short, stubby humans,” she said. “I stand corrected.”

“Ooh, he wouldn’t like to hear that,” I said. “No one does racism quite like dwarves. Well, except for elves. And dragons. And-”

“Point made,” she said. “Very well, Sclopetarius Nock. I have a proposal for you.”

“Does it involve working together until we get out of this wellspring, then going our separate ways and pretending none of this ever happened?”

“As a matter of fact, it does,” she said.

“I can dig it,” I said. “Is it okay if I sit up now?”

She placed her hand upon my chest. This time, I could sense the little sparks of mana that drifted from her fingertips as she probed my body for injuries in the process of being healed. Healing magic could work wonders, but it wasn’t instant.

“So long as you do not exert yourself for the next several minutes.”

I sat up as carefully as I could. My head swam, and something deep within my chest thrummed with the sort of deep ache I associated with a toothache, but nothing actively threatened to kill me.

“Sheesh. That feels like a stab wound,” I said, probing the sore spot on my chest.

“You did startle me,” she said. “My apologies.”

“Well. I did tumble down a hole after a knife witch,” I said. “I guess it’s to be expected.”

“Are you always this irrationally rational?” she asked.

“Only when I’m stuck in a hole with a pretty cat lady,” I said. “Otherwise I’m a right asshole. Now, c’mon. Let’s see if we can find a way out. Builders ought to have left an exit somewhere.”