Chương 32: Hadley: Chapter Two

The common room of the White Queen inn was much less crowded, now that the trapped merchants and farmfolk had all moved on. In fact, much to Madame Ro's chagrin, the inn lay mostly empty now. Kells watched as the flamboyant innkeep, dressed in gauzy red silks, sulked behind the counter, a pout on her dark face as she surveyed the empty tables and her white-skirted maids, now mostly idle.

He didn't understand why she was so upset, really - she must have made more than enough money over the months that folk had been trapped in Twin Lamps. But it seemed she wasn't truly satisfied unless she was raking in coin hand over fist every day, without stop. Kells was seated at one of the tables, a tankard held in his grip. He plucked irritably at his slim black jacket. He had wanted to be back at work as a guard by now.

It was funny, how relieved he usually was to doff his heavy armor once he got back from a patrol. And now, it felt wrong to not be wearing it. Money wasn't really the issue - Bartuk had paid him a hefty sum, nearly a year's wages, after the celebrations over the death of the Bogge-man had been over.

"As compensation for your wrongful arrest," the mayor had said, "And reward, for your role in the foul creature's defeat." Kells had been ecstatic at the coin, at first. With that amount, he might have been able to buy his own home within Twin Lamps within the year, if he saved wisely, or even perhaps a nice plot of land outside of the town's walls. But now, he had been forced to live on it, at least for a time. His face reddened as he thought back to his humiliation in the barracks.

How he had awoken with screams ripping from his throat, leaving it raw and bleeding, two nights in a row, sending the other soldiers leaping from their bunks in panic. He had not wanted to take leave from his duties, but he could see no other choice - he couldn't very well embarass himself by interrupting the men's sleep every other night. And half of the guard probably was worried he was a bit mad. The damned nightmares, the dark thoughts that plagued him...

he had thought them done, once the Bogge-man had been slain. But as the days wore on, he had found himself lingering more and more on Roark's death. He thought it only natural, at first. While he had avenged his captain, it was... not so easy, to let go of the memory of the night he had found Roark beheaded. He had hoped it would fade, with time.

But he found his mind drawn back to that night, again and again, and he dreamt of it - dreamt of the Bogge-man standing there, in the shadows of Roark's house, holding his captain's head, staring at him with those blazing yellow eyes. In his nightmares, he could feel the sick and rabid fury of the thing, pulsing through his head. With a sigh, Kells glanced across the table.

Martimeos and Elyse sat there, the wizard puffing on his pipe, while the witch held Cecil in her lap, stroking her familiar softly as it let out a rumbling purr. Finally healed, she had removed the cast from the cat's leg. They both looked tired, dark bags beneath their eyes, and Martimeos toyed thoughtfully with the red scarf around his neck. There had been a time, not so long after the celebrations, when Kells had thought he must be saying his final goodbyes to these two.

Martimeos had planned to move into the mountains, as soon as Cecil had recovered, in pursuit of his brother's trail. And Elyse, for her own reasons, was to follow him. Kells had advised the two of them against it - none ever returned from the Witch-Queen's peaks, not since the war had ended - and now they knew why; Bogge-men hunted all who set foot upon the mountain paths. But the wizard had insisted that the Art, stealth, and caution would serve well; and besides, they knew now how a Bogge-man might be killed.

Kells had felt badly; he thought it very likely that the two of them would be slain upon the mountainside. It had felt strange to think of his new friends walking off to their deaths, after surviving everything that had happened in Twin Lamps. But Martimeos was his own man, and Elyse her own woman; Kells could not stop them from making foolish choices if they wished.

This was all before the days had passed, though, and they had all discovered that the Bogge-man still stalked their memories, their thoughts, their dreams. The bell above the inn's entrance door tinkled merrily, marking someone's arrival, and a gust of cold wind blew into the common room as the door opened. The three of them turned to look to see Maddie walking through the door, shaking her wild mane of thick red curls to free it of snowfall.

Bartuk had been swift in his promises to the Crosscraw women; Maddie's two companions, Inna and Petra, were already on a farm outside the town walls, reluctantly learning the trade. Maddie herself, however, remained within the town walls in her service as a witch, living in one of the guest rooms in Bartuk's manor. Maddie knew a bit of healing, it seemed, and how to send someone into an enchanted sleep with the Art; she could also "talk to the sky", as she put it, which let her make predictions about the weather.

That last seemed particularly useful for a community of farmers. Maddie dressed now much as the townfolk of Twin Lamps did - long black skirts that touched the top of her boots, and a fine, form-fitting green jacket with polished brass buttons, whose sleeves reached down to her wrists. In addition, though, she wore a gold armband that marked her station as a witch, and a pointed hat - much like Elyse's, but blue, instead of black.

Curiously, in her hands, she clutched a squirming puppy, of dark black fur, shushing it with a silly smile as she stepped into the inn. Martimeos waved the Crosscraw witch over, and she approached them, taking a seat next to Kells, adjusting her skirts awkwardly as she tried to keep the puppy in her arms.

"Ah apologize, fir nae bein' able tae meet sooner," she said, laughing slightly as the puppy nipped at her long red curls.

"Tis odd, livin' amongst ye lowland folk. Ah swear, it seems ev'ry goon wit a tongue wants tae blether in mah ear."

"It has been a long time, since they have had a witch to serve the town," Kells replied. Despite his dark mood, he laughed as the puppy in Maddie's arms turned to him, blinked, and gave a squeaky little yap.

"Where did you get the dog?"

"Oh, this li'l ball of mischief?" Maddie scratched the pup behind the ears as it nuzzled into her bosom.

"Th' last night of th' celebrations, that braw young farmer - the blondie - Vincent, 'twas his name - gave this pup to me. Said he felt sorry fir a witch that had lost her familiar, an' his sheepdog had jest given birh. Ah dinnae ken if Ah am ready tae take on a new familiar, yet... mah heart still aches fir Longtooth, but... mebbe, one day, Ah will bond with this li'l one." She raised her eyes, giving them all a happy grin.

"His name's Trouble." Elyse leaned forward, suddenly intent." Vincent gave you the pup?" she asked curiously.

"Tell me - have you seen the farmer since?" Maddie shook her head, red curls bouncing.

"Nae, lass, Ah cannae say I hae. But ye cannae hae brought me here tae blether about mae puppy. Fir why did ye call upon me?" Martimeos, Kells and Elyse all glanced at one another. And then, in turns, they began to speak. Maddie's face fell as they did so, her bright green eyes going wide, turning pale and grim. She set Trouble down upon the floor, so the small puppy could toddle around the common room, and Cecil leapt from Elyse's lap to go play with him.

She folded her hands before her on the table, silently listening as the three told of the Bogge-man lingering in their thoughts, their memories, their dreams. Finally, when they were done with the telling, she raised her hands to her eye, forming a triangle with her thumbs and forefingers, staring at them quietly through her fingers with one glittering eye.

"Ah... tis nae as if ye are marked, any longer..." she muttered.

"But... something is there, aye... Ah... Ah'm sorreh, Ah dinnae ken what is happenin' to ye." Martimeos returned her answer with a steady, weighing gaze, shadows dancing in the depths of his dark green eyes.

"Did you know that something like this would happen?" The wizard asked, his voice flat and measured. Maddie's eyes widened as she dropped her hands.

"Nae - I wouldnae mislead ye - Ah..." she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, as she stared off into the distance.

"Upon the crags, those marked by the Bogge-men... they are either kilt by clan, or driven mad, they kill themselves, or serve the Bogge-men. Ah hae nae seen what happens tae one so marked when the Bogge-man hisself is killt. We ken so little about them, even after all this time."

"So..." Kells cleared his throat, buying time to hid the panic that he felt rising in his gut.

"What do we do...? Are we just... doomed to live with this? To go mad?" Maddie glanced his way, and Kells did not like the pity he saw in her eyes.

"Ah... didnae say that, Queensman," she murmured.

"There is one with greater knowledge than Ah. But ye willnae like what ye must do." The Crosscraw woman fell silent then, as if reluctant to speak, staring down with her red hair hanging about her face. Finally, Elyse slapped the table, frowning, dark blue eyes flaring with irritation.

"Well?" she snapped.

"What is it? Out with it, woman. Who will we speak to?" Maddie's shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath; she remained with her head hanging down, staring at the table.

"Upon th' crags," she murmured softly, "Mah mentor lives still. An auld witch, called Grizel. She has great knowledge of th'Art, an' is likely the eldest of th' Crosscraw who remain.

'Tis due tae her that any still live at all. If any would ken, 'twould be she. But tae see her, ye would hae tae make yer way up the mountain, and through the crags."

"Well," Martim replied, fiddling with his pipe, "I was planning to go there anyway."

"Aye, and yer a fool fir it." Maddie's head snapped up, her green eyes flashing, as she glared at the wizard.

"What words could Ah give ye tae convince ye 'tis madness tae travel tae the crags? Th' death Ah hae seen there, fir years and years, Ah couldnae make ye ken, it stains ye. But...." her gaze softened, and sadness crept into her voice.

"It seems now, ye dinnae hae a choice. Auld Grizel is the only Ah know of who may help ye. Half-mad she may be, but she is the only one." And suddenly, Maddie rose to her feet, her movements swift and anxious. Black skirts sweeping around her, she bent to pick up her pup from the floor, sweeping up the yipping little beast in her arms.

"Wait," Kells said, rising himself, "Do you leave so soon? We could use your counsel - how would we find Grizel? What places are best to travel among the peaks?" Maddie whirled around, clutching Trouble, panic and shame battling each other across her face.

"Ah... on th' morrow, Ah will send a messenger wit a letter, tellin' ye all Ah can. Ah'm sorry, but... Ah cannae be near ye, while the Bogge-man is in yer skulls. Yer nae marked, but... I cannae. I cannae ken whether or not Ah'm safe." She looked away from them, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Ah beg fir yer forgiveness, but... dinnae contact me again. Nor Inna, nor Petra. Ah must look tae their safety." She blinked, then scrubbed her face.

"Ah'm so sorry." And with that, Maddie quickly swept from the common room, disappearing out the door into a flurry of whirling snowfall, never looking back. ~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~ And with that, it seemed, Kells found his fate sealed. The only solution to his nightmares appeared to be traveling with Martimeos and Elyse to find the witch Grizel, upon the crags and peaks of the Witch-Queen's mountains. He considered not going.

After all, those mountains had long been associated with disappearances and certain doom. What use was it to rid himself of nightmares, if he just ended up as a corpse for it? It made sense for Martimeos and Elyse, who were foolhardy enough to brave the mountains either way, but he could just... remain here, in Twin Lamps, and live with the nightmares. And he might have done so, if he didn't know, deep down, that this was just a pleasant lie he told himself. For he knew that it might not stop at simple nightmares.

It might not end until he was mad and gibbering. And really, what sort of life would that be? A short and miserable one, that was what, purchased by cowardice. And so, Kells simply... let go. He let go of all anxiety he might feel for the journey ahead. If he was to die, well, he was to die. It was what he was born for, anyway. Although, he did try to look on the bright side.

He tried to ignore that he had, just days before, felt certain that Martimeos and Elyse were going to die on the mountains, and tried to listen to what the wizard had to say. It was true that while travelers through the mountains never returned, it was not as if those travelers had the Art on their side. Perhaps, he tried to force himself to think, that would make all the difference. Perhaps the Art, and forewarning about what lay ahead, might see them through. Perhaps.

But much more likely, he thought, he was simply going to die. And that was alright, in the big scheme of things. It didn't matter so much. He spent his days preparing, retrieving his armor and a collection of weaponry from the barracks. Technically, these were property of the town, and he should not be bringing them out for personal use. And technically, he had the coin now to buy his own personal weapons and armor.

But this was what he had worn for years; what he had wielded for years, and it was what he was comfortable with. And that comfort and familiarity just might mean his life. Just because he accepted the very real possibility of death, did not mean he was not going to do everything he could to avoid it. If the town wanted, they could take repayment out of his coin. Or brand him a thief, he supposed. It would not really matter that much if he did not return.

And he listened carefully to the plans of Martimeos and Elyse. The wizard and the witch planned to use glamour to hide as much as possible, once among the mountains, and flame where that did not work, purchasing plenty of torches and lamp-oil to bring with them. He had heard before that those who practiced the Art could become a bit arrogant, and, he supposed, that was what he was witnessing now.

True, the two of them took caution - they did not glibly dismiss the warnings - but neither acted as they were almost certainly headed towards death. No, dire warnings of inevitable disappearances were for those who did not have the Art on their side. Maybe they were right, in a way. Maybe the Art did change things. He certainly hoped it would.

The nights, though, Kells spent with Anne, the tall and freckled maid with the dirty-blond hair who served Madame Ro, the one who had come to his room to comfort him after Roark's death. The poor girl, he thought, was falling in love with him a bit. And it was not that he did not love her back, in a way. But being with her filled him with a strange sense of longing for a life that might have been.

In a life where the Bogge-man had never come to Twin Lamps, he could have seen himself marrying Anne one day, Roark there at his wedding to celebrate. Something that would now never come to pass. Still, he took her as a lover for those few days they had. Truth be told, he did not know if she would have taken no for an answer - she threw herself at him quite aggressively once she learned that he planned to travel to the mountains.

It was the day before they planned to leave that he woke in his room at the White Queen inn, Anne sleeping peacefully in his arms, only to find when he rose that there had been a note slipped beneath his door during the night. A summons, from mayor Taavetti Bartuk, instructing Kells to come to his manor immediately upon receipt.

And so it was that Kells made the trek across town, through cobbled streets filled with dirty snow and ice, to the long, rolling estates of the wealthy part of town, wondering if this would be his last time making this journey. Wondering what it was that the mayor wanted to speak to him about. He approached Bartuk's white and graystone manor, peering upwards at the dark, arched windows as he entered. He no longer felt as nervous about meeting the mayor as he might have once had. It was funny, Kells thought.

When he was a child, he had even hated Taavetti, for a time. After all, it was because of Bartuk that his father had been sent to Twin Lamps. Because of Bartuk, in a way, that his father had been killed. And for a while, as a child, Kells had blamed the mayor for this. If it had not been for Bartuk's insolence - for his disloyalty to the Queen - then Kell's father, after all, might still be alive.

And even after Kells had grown out of this nonsense, he had always found Taavetti to be slightly mysterious and iniimidating. But in dealing with the Bogge-man, the mayor had shown a kindness and nobility that Kells had not known the little man possessed. He was... glad, in a way, that Bartuk was the mayor of Twin Lamps. Hell, Kells thought, next election, should he survive, he might even bother voting for the mayor. Bartuk may be a rich man, but he was a good one.

The interior of the manor felt almost empty now, with all the refugee farmfolk gone. Servants still scrubbed, on their hands and knees, with soap and great buckets of hot, steaming water, to try to remove the mudstains (and worse) from the luxurious, padded carpets that lay on the gleaming marblke of the floors. Most likely hopeless, in all truth. Bartuk would probably just have to buy some new ones. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Up the staircase, through the hall lit by candled chandeliers of fantastic, multicolored glass, Kells paused, just for a moment, outside of Taavetti's office door. Some strange feeling overcame him, as he looked at the finely polished wood and shining brass handle; something that told him he would not enjoy what he was about to hear. Shaking the feeling off, he rapped at the door.

"Come in," Bartuk called from beyond. The office was just as grand as it ever was, walls lined with shelves showing the spines of hundreds of leather-bound books, Bartuk's large, rounded wooden desk polished and gleaming in soft sunlight streaming in through the large arched window at the back of the room, covered in scattered papers and inkpots.

Taavetti Bartuk, wizened and small, sat in his upholstered chair behind the desk, squinting through silver-framed spectacles with glittering dark eyes at a paper he scratched at furiously with a quill, wrapped in a coat of thick black velvet lined with dark fur, his silver hair glowing slightly in the sun. The mayor glanced up, pausing at his scratching.

"Ah, Kells," he said.

"I was wondering when you might drop by. Why don't you drag in a chair from the hall, boy." Kells could not help but notice that the mayor's voice was not nearly so sharp as it usually was. It seemed almost... strange, to hear him speak so normally. And..."A chair, mayor?" he asked curiously. A chair, in Bartuk's office, was unusual indeed. The mayor enjoyed making his appointments stand. It was just part of how he dealt with people.

"Yes. This is not an... interrogation, Kells. Today, I'd like to speak with you as an equal." Kells shrugged, and went back out into the hallway to retrieve a small, leather-upholstered chair to carry back to Bartuk's office. He plopped this in front of the mayor's desk, and then sat down in it, crossing his legs, waiting. He did not have to wait long.

"Formalities first," said the mayor, shuffling some of the papers in front of him.

"And, my dear Kells, let this be a lesson to you in maintaining your paperwork. Roark had an inheritance listed in his will, but unfortunately had still listed his sister as the recepient - she died before you had ever come here. Well, it took some wrangling - some of the council thought they had the right to unclaimed property as compensation for the tax burden - but it is done. You have inherited Roark's house, and his life savings." Kells blinked. He... had not even thought of this, really.

He supposed he knew Roark's property was to go to someone after his death, but..." I... really have no interest in ever setting foot in that house again," he whispered. It was a shame, though, he thought. He had many happy memories in Roark's house. But it would forever be stained, for him, as the place of Roark's violent death.

"I understand. I thought you might not." Bartuk slid a paper, dense with scribble, and an inkpot, across the desk, towards Kells.

"Simply sign here, and you give permission to the town to sell the residence for a twenty percent sellers fee. You will keep the rest. There is, of course, also the issue of Roark's savings."

"How much is it?" Kells asked idly, as he leaned over to sign the contract. And then, when Bartuk told him the amount, he very nearly toppled the inkpot. Roark had stowed away more money than Kells would have earned in ten years working as a guard. They blathered on about paperwork for a while - that was more coin than Kells could have ever carried on him, so Bartuk convinced him to sign it over for investment, promising to make the sum grow, and that he could withdraw whatever he needed at any time.

It still seemed unreal, to Kells, and almost a little ironic - that he would have such fortune land in his lap right before he went off to most likely die, himself. Bartuk also took the opporunity to have Kells update his own will - all members of the guard had one drawn up, and Kells had previously listed Roark as the recipient of what savings he might have, in the case of his own death. He changed that to Anne, now that Roark was gone. She had his heart as much as anyone else might at the moment, he supposed.

"Now," Taavetti said, when they were finished, sliding Kells' newly inked will to a patch of sunlight to let the ink dry, "There was a reason that I thought that updating your will might be pertinent, at the moment." The mayor leaned back in his chair, his eyes unreadable behind his spectacles as he contemplated Kells, fingers tented.

"I hear that you plan to make your way into the Witch-Queen's mountains." Kells was not surprised by this. Bartuk had a way of sniffing out these things. But still, he had to ask.

"How did you know?"

"It wasn't exactly a secret, boy," Taavetti scoffed.

"Maddie is my witch now, you know. She lives in my damn house. She told me that you must go, and the reason why - before she left to stay on Inna and Petra's farm for a while. She does not feel safe being in town, until you, Martimeos, and Elyse leave. I must say, from all I have heard, I can understand why."

"Well," Kells replied, running a hand through his short, dark hair, "Yes. If she told you everything, then you also understand why I must." Taavetti was silent for a time, looking downward at his desk, eyes hidden by the sunlight gleaming off his spectacles.

"You know," he said quietly, "I was.... always glad, to see how you had turned out, Kells. When you first arrived here, I had written you off as some noble's brat. But you grew into a fine soldier. I always thought that some day, you would probably even be Captain. Funny, isn't it. The very position your father had meant to take over." Kells felt a knot growing in the pit of his stomach. The mayor had.... never spoken to him about this subject before.

He narrowed his stormy gray eyes, wondering why the man was bringing it up now.

"I think you can thank Roark for my upbringing," he replied carefully.

"But I did not know that you had known of my father's designs for the town."

"Of course I did. I had my spies in the Queen's court, at the time. I knew full well her eventual plan was to turn Twin Lamps into your father's fiefdom. Though she did have my spies sniffed out and executed in retaliation." Bartuk sighed, and removed his spectacles, and for the first time Kells had ever seen, the mayor actually seemed... old. Normally he was full of a sharp, whipcrack energy that made him seem more youthful than his gray hair and wrinkles would suggest.

But now Taavetti seemed weary, as if his long years finally weighed down upon him.

"I have lived a very long life," the mayor said quietly.

"And collected many secrets over the course of it. And many of those will follow me to my grave, which in all truth, cannot be far off now. But there is one that always rankled me, Kells, whenever I looked at you." And here, the mayor slid open a drawer in his desk, and plucked out a gleaming silver key attached to a long, red string. He groaned as he got up from his chair, and walked over to one of the bookcases that lined the walls.

"I... do not think this will be of much use to you," Bartuk muttered, as he ran his kobbed fingers over the spines of the books.

"In fact, because of that, I debated whether I should tell you this at all. But in the end, I decided, you ought to know the truth, before you go. Ah, here we are." Bartuk's fingers stopped at a particular tome, and Kells watched as the little man popped open the spine, revealing a long wooden slot with a keyhole. The mayor slipped his key into this, and a section of the bookcase popped open, revealing a small safe with a sheaf of papers tied with a string inside.

"Impressive," Kells said, genuinely astonished.

"A safe disguised as books? It's very well made. I would have never suspected it."

"Not the only secret this room holds," Bartuk snorted, taking the papers from within the safe and closing it once more. Kells could barely tell, even after having seen it, where the safe began and where it ended.

"Books are very good for hiding things." The mayor gestured to the bookcases lining the walls.

"You would be surprised at how few of these tomes are actually real." Returning to his desk, Bartuk slid the sheaf of papers across it. Kells stared at it, bemused, for a moment.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Why don't you go ahead and read," the mayor replied quietly. Still confused, Kells took the stack of papers and deftly untied the string, shuffling through them, skimming. His eyes widened, and his face quickly grew pale, as he realized what they were.

"This...." he muttered, shuffling through the papers ever quicker, eyes darting back and forth as he read.

"This is..." It was all the letters he had ever written home, back to the White Queen's court, when he was younger. All those months, when he had first been trapped within Twin Lamps, miserable over his father's death, and had sent letters by bird back home asking to be saved, letters that had never received a response. They had never been sent at all, he realized. Bartuk had ensured that whatever he wrote had never made it to the Queen's castle.

And then, his hands trembling, he came upon a letter that made his mouth go dry. It was not one of his own, no. This was written in an elegant, flowing cursive script, one that he had not seen in years, and addressed to him. Dearest Liam, By the time you reach Twin Lamps, this letter should already be waiting for you. It has only been a week since you had left, and my sisters tease me mercilessly for it, but I already miss you so terribly that I could not wait any longer to write.

I hope that your journey through the mountains went safely. You must tell me whether you saw any of the giants there! Mother tells me that they are indeed real, and terribly foul, but that they bow to her authority, and this should keep you safe. I can only hope that this is so. I go to sleep every night sick with worry for you. Please answer this as soon as you are able, so that I know you are safe! Liam, I must confess; I do not think I can stand being apart from you for so long.

Mother says not to worry, that in Twin Lamps, you will learn to be a fine Knight of her order, but the thought of not seeing you for years or more... does it make you as miserable as it makes me? I am afraid I must insist that I at least visit you, from time to time. And when you are done with your training, I will summon you back to court as my champion, so that we will not have to be apart again. Or perhaps I will come to live with you.

It is my older sisters who will take over the throne from Mother one day, anyway. It is so lonely here, without you. Your absence has left a hole in my heart already. I have nothing now to do but study the Art, and listen to the boring nobles at court, and watch my sisters plot and scheme. Please, I beg of you, please write me every day. I was such a coward, when you left... I should have said more to you. Things I cannot say in letters, things that ought to be said in person.

I did not know how quickly and how completely I would miss you. I hope you hold the same feelings in your heart for me that I do for you. I must stop now, or else I will pen down all that should be said to you in person. I will visit you, Liam, I will raise a riot until Mother allows it. I will dream of you every night until the day I am permitted to see your face once more. Your memory is in my heart, my knight.

Forever your princess, Cassie Memories came rushing back to Kells; memories of his childhood friend, the princess, that he had left behind when he came to Twin Lamps. A childhood friend that he had long ago let go of, when the Queen's royal family had been killed. He looked up at Bartuk, trembling. The mayor's face was unreadable.

"I don't understand," he said hoarsely.

"What..." And then he spotted it. Another letter, in Cassie's flowing cursive script, but this one not addressed to him. He raised it up, to read it, noting that the ink looked as if it had been blotted, as if tears had fallen upon the letter as it was written. Mayor Taavetti Bartuk, My heart shatters to hear of the death of Liam Kells and his father. I am sure you have already received communcations from my Mother. I feel silly writing this. Please allow a broken-hearted girl her grief.

Liam was sweet and kind, and so dear to my heart. I am afraid he died never knowing just how much I loved him. I would like to visit Twin Lamps, to see his grave some day. Until then, I have only one request for you. Could you please have someone place white starflowers upon his grave, once a week, when they grow. They held special meaning, for Liam and I. I would like to think that, wherever he is now, he might know that he will always be in my heart.

Until we meet, once this bitter and damned war is over, Princess Cascadia, of House Esmonde. More memories came back to Kells, now. Of a time that seemed so, so long ago. A day when he had picked flowers for his princess, and received his first kiss from her in return. Memories of hopes for a future that he had long since abandoned; a wound that he had thought closed long ago. The memory of a pale, beautiful girl with a smile that had made his heart soar.

"You... told them I was dead...?" he whispered, not lifting his gaze from the paper.

"Why...?" Bartuk sighed, and shifted in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him, looking older and more weary than ever.

"I want you to understand," the mayor began, "All I ever did, I did to keep Twin Lamps independent and free of the scourge of war. I suppose I can tell you openly now; I worked to undermine the White Queen from within." The mayor tapped his fingers on his desk, his mouth a thin line.

"This I did, because... I thought it the right thing to do. At one point, I thought the idea of a Queen was a fine one. I thought she might tame these lands, make the roads safer for travel and trade. But the White Queen was too cruel, her forces too bloodthirsty. No amount of coin could pay for the massacres she committed to win her kingdom. At least, I thought so.

"I had forewarning that your father meant to come to Twin Lamps to eventually wrest authority from me and make the town his fiefdom. I had... plans, for dealing with him. It was fortune only that he ended up slain on the way here-""Fortune," Kells repeated, a bitter edge to his voice.

"Fortune."

"Yes," Bartuk responded, his dark eyes glittering, "I will not deny it. Your father may have been a kind and good man. Or not. But either way, he came to claim our independence. It was fortunate for us. And once you showed up in our town, I worried that if the Queen learned you were alive, the escort she sent for you would contain another noble meant to unseat me and turn Twin Lamps into his domain. So I lied to them. I told them the roads were dangerous, that you had died along with your father.

Nobody to retrieve, no one to send an escort for. It was a risky lie. If, at any point, the Queen could spare forces to clear the roads, they could have come and discovered my falsehood. It was a delaying tactic at best. But it was one of a thousand little lies I told her, over the years, and in the end... those thousand little lies kept us free of war. And... well. The war grew more intense, the Queen never could muster the forces to come discipline us, and... she fell, before the lie could be discovered.

And all I had to do was break the heart of a princess and lie to a young lad about the letters he sent. It seemed a fine trade, for freedom."

"She died," Kells replied quietly. He shook his head to clear his blurred vision; it seemed as if his skull was stuffed with thick wool.

"She died, broken-hearted, and thinking I was dead." Memories danced to him through the fog in his mind; a girl's laughter and smiles, that he shoved back down before they could overwhelm him.

"I know," Bartuk replied quietly.

"And the real knife in my ribs, is that I will never know if that lie was even necessary. Perhaps they would have sent just a simple escort to bring you back home. But then if that were done, who knows what may have happened to you? You may have died in the war yourself. Still, I will not try to justify it that way. I did what I thought best, and others paid the price for it. You paid the price for it. All I can ever do is wonder whether it was the right choice."

Kells looked up at the mayor, as the man sat in shadow, behind his massive desk. More than old, now, Taavetti seemed frail. The glamour the clever little man could summon with sheer authority and force of will had dropped, and all the mayor was, in the end, was a tired, feeble, very old man, with a life full of secrets and regrets. Kells did not know what to think. All of this plucked at a wound that he had thought scarred over long ago.

He had been devastated when he had learned of Cassie's death, and to think that she had died in bitter grief, thinking he was dead as well... but it had all happened years ago. It was all part of a life gone by, full of dreams and hopes for a future that he had long since accepted were closed to him forever. Even the anger he felt, for having been lied to, felt dull and dim, like flame through a thick fog. He had been wronged, yes, but... what did any of it matter, now? The world had moved on.

"Why tell me this now, mayor?" he asked, feeling weary and frail himself. Bartuk didn't answer, for a long moment, sitting still in silence and shadow.

"I don't know," the old mayor replied finally.

"Perhaps I just thought you deserved to know the truth, before you went off into danger. Or perhaps I just wanted to get it off my chest, before I passed on. Even if you live, Kells, I do not think I will see you again. I think you may be gone a long time, and death will have claimed me by the time you return." Kells tried to make his laughter glib and carefree. It felt odd, like hearing another person laughing.

"What makes you say that? Assuming I do not simply die, the trip ought to be a short one. Up into the mountains to visit a witch, and right back down." Bartuk gave a soft, genuine smile, the most honest one Kells had ever seen from him.

"You say that," the mayor replied, "But I have lived a long life, and seen many a witch and wizard on their wanderings. The Art pulls at them, and they have a strange way of pulling at others. Fortune has a funny way of giving their companions excuse after excuse to remain by their side." The mayor shrugged, though his smile remained on his face.

"Perhaps I am wrong. But heed my advice, Kells. Martimeos and Elyse may seem fine companions to you. But only two types practice the Art. The half-mad, and the fully mad."

"I will have to remember that," Kells replied softly. Taavetti leaned back once more, glancing out the window, taking note of the position of the sun in the sky.

"I am afraid my time is up," he murmured.

"Ever more meetings, you know." He nodded towards the stack of papers that Kells held in his hands.

"You... may keep those, if you want." Kells stared down at the letters. All the words that he had tried to send home, so long ago. The last words that Cassie had ever tried to say to him, before her death. Letters from another life, now forever lost.

"No," he replied, a long, weary sadness in his voice.

"I don't really think there's much point. Burn them." ~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~ Kells stared up at the sky as he left the mayor's manor, the dark, arched windows of the mansion leering down at him as he walked away. Though the sun beamed down from a clear blue sky, it was barely warm enough to melt the snow piled on the ground around him. He thought about what the mayor had said. Wizards and witches, pulled by the Art, and pulling at others around them.

And he thought long about all that had happened, since Martimeos and Elyse had come to Twin Lamps. Just how much his life had been turned upside down. Roark's death, and now, what Taavetti had just revealed to him. He wondered whether he had been marked not just by the Bogge-man, but by the Art as well. He shook his head to clear it of the fog that had filled it, since he had read Cassie's letters. He stared at the sun, as if the light from it could burn that fog away.

There was, he told himself, no point in getting bound up in the past, and what might have been, or worrying about the future, and what might be. The world was here now, in the present, and as long as it was, it might as well be enjoyed. He forced a smile onto his face and a spring into his step, as he made his way back through town, to the White Queen inn. Even if he didn't truly feel so cheerful, he had learned some time ago; put a smile on your face, and eventually it sinks into your heart.

"It is what it is," he said to himself, as he strolled along.

"It doesn't really matter."