OoOoO

The atmosphere in Kiiss's carriage was tense. Ordinarily, the ride from Moaan to Amenthere would have taken five days. Kiiss and Vinie had made it in three. Running on less than a handful of hours sleep the night before, the team of zebras was beginning to show serious signs of fatigue. The animals' once lively hoofs now plodded laboriously upon the road, their vividly striped necks drooping low. One more day at this pace and they would likely collapse. The two carriage drivers were little better off. Mercifully, when Vinie leaned out the carriage window she could see the high tower of Castle Armathain peeking over the hillside.

"Otch! Get back in here!"

Kiiss's admonishment was not without reason. It was harvest season in Goran, and the countryside was bustling with farmers bringing in their crops. Sturdy men and older boys, the blades of their scythes gleaming in the late afternoon sun, moved across the field felling wheat like a row of dolphins herding fish. Behind them, women and children followed, hands moving with practiced efficiency as they bundled the golden grains into sheaves. However, the farmers were not so absorbed in their work that they didn't notice the passing of a zebra-drawn carriage. Some of the children even abandoned the harvest to run out into the road, shouting and whistling in the dust cloud kicked up by the carriage's wheels. With so much attention, the dark face of a southerner would not go unnoted, especially not this close to the capital.

"The day is getting on..." Vinie began dully. A hollow ache – once her constant companion in Utunma's prison – was beginning to creep back into its old home in her heart.

Kiiss wouldn't hear of it. "Gideo is still alive. Gorians prefer to handle important business at later hours."

"Zaneo was executed in the morning," pointed out Vinie.

Outside, the calling of the farmers' children gave way to the rattle of wheels and clopping of hooves. A careful peek confirmed that traffic along the road was growing steadily thicker. The road itself was also changing; no longer a dirt track, now the zebras' hooves clopped sharply on stone.

"We'll be at the Southern Gate soon," said Kiiss. "Time to get ready."

"You said we'd be met by allies once we're inside the city?" Vinie had wanted to ask members of the original Factionist movement to come with them, never mind what Xolani and Oesu said. Kiiss however had insisted that it would be hard enough trying to smuggle one person into Amenthere, much less a dozen. "How did you manage to get a message sent?"

"I didn't."

"...Say again?"

With an impatient wave of her manicured hand, Kiiss slid down to kneel on the floor of the carriage. "With Mahir no doubt having shouted news of Gideo's execution in the streets, my people will be ready to jump at a moment's notice. Once my carriage is spotted outside the city walls – which it likely already has been – they'll know what to do."

"You put an awful lot of faith in your contacts."

With the carriage now slowed to a crawl in the congestion immediately before the city gate, Vinie had no choice but to trust. Flexing her wrists and feeling the weight of the knives strapped to her forearms, she watched as Kiiss pulled back the mat. With long, clever fingers, Kiiss located a tiny latch between the boards of the carriage floor. With a sharp click, the square outline of a hatch popped up and became visible.

"This was what you were drawing that day in Gideo's apartment," Vinie realized aloud.

"I had intended to use it for carrying merchandise again someday, once all this is over. You should be skinny enough to fit, but if you have problems with tight spaces now is not the time to be saying so."

The narrowness of the compartment didn't concern Vinie, although visions of the bottom falling out and dropping her beneath the zebras' hooves did flash through her mind briefly. With the authoritative voices of the gate guards getting closer every second though, there was no time for second guessing. It was a tight fit, but with Vinie lying flat on her back, face turned to the side, Kiiss was just able to get the cover panel fitted onto the compartment once again.

"Now, no matter what you hear, don't make a sound. I'll handle this."

Alone in the dark, no room to move and scarcely able to hear what was going on outside, Vinie had to fight to keep her thoughts in check. What if Kiiss was wrong, and they were too late?

No. Kiiss was right. She had to be. Why else would so many people be lining up to enter Amenthere if not to attend a public event like an execution? The thought of all these Gorians coming in from across the countryside specifically to watch a man die curdled Vinie's blood. Up to this point, she had held no particular quarrel against the citizens of Goran, only their king. If hundreds of people would gather at Mahir's invitation to smugly witness the execution of a 'Factionist traitor', then perhaps Vinie had been wrong not to consider them her enemies too. If she lived through this, she vowed, then she would redouble her efforts to ensure that Undor severed all ties to Goran once and for all. She would make amends with Lord Xolani and Lady Oesu, and together they would see not only Mahir brought to justice, but the east and north freed from the capital's dominion as well. The all-encompassing realm of Goran as the world knew it would come to an end...or at least be so diminished as to become unrecognizable.

This was the dream that Vinie had carved, with shaking and bloodied hands, into the wall of her prison cell. Then, she had been inspired by the memory of Zaneo, and the broken dreams of what could have been. Now, dark fire kindled and burned within her soul, revitalizing that dream and giving her something to cling to even as hope for Gideo became thin and desperate. Turning her head as much as she was able, Vinie pressed her brow against the compartment lid. She felt the absence of Zaneo's black pearl keenly; for almost twelve years its cool weight against her brow had been a constant. The pearl, now hanging on a cord around Gideo's neck, was as beyond her reach as he was.

"Zaneo...Sahar..." murmured Vinie into the dark. "Don't let him die."

Zaneo's answer came as clear as if he were laying right beside her, whispering in her ear. "Be ready Vinie. The threads are beginning to unravel faster now. The Golden Tree flowers blood-red...but will bear no fruit."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not alone anymore." Sahar's voice joined Zaneo's, softer but no less real. "Others are beginning to see and hear as you do. Only those who have touched the veil can glimpse through it."

"How about, instead of riddles, you two tell me that Gideo is still alive??"

An otherwordly chuckle from Zaneo raised all the hairs along the back of Vinie's neck. "He lives. Remember this though; the first and oldest chain must be broken. Until it is, the children of Terra Erda will continue to feed on the link between life and death, trapping all those who die within the bounds of this world. Your people are of the stars, Vinie BlackPearl, and to the stars you are meant to return."

"My people? What about you, Zaneo?"

"Our people," echoed Sahar. "All of them."

"Do you mean the people of Undor? But what about you, Zaneo? Zaneo!? Sahar!?"

Zaneo and Sahar no longer answered. Instead, Vinie's whispered entreaties summoned only a sharp stomp from Kiiss in the carriage above. With the noise of the crowd all around the carriage now, Vinie could only lie quiet and wait. The next few minutes were entirely out of her hands now.

OoOoO

Seated alone in the carriage, Kiiss could finally indulge herself in a few brief moments of anxiety. The whole ride from Moaan to Amenthere, she had had to keep up the façade of being perfectly calm and in control of the situation for Vinie's sake. Vinie was so obviously teetering on the knife edge of hysteria, for Kiiss to have shown any sign of faltering might have undone the younger woman completely. Hearing Vinie talking to herself inside the secret compartment was also far from reassuring. Kiiss just hoped that her own words about the others being ready would turn out to be true.

"Madame."

A quiet warning from one of the drivers warned Kiiss that they were the next in line. As the zebras staggered forward into the shade of the Southern Gate, Kiiss smoothed her colourful skirts and straightened her head wrap. Maybe luck would be with them, and any warrants out for her arrest wouldn't be front-of-mind with these particular guards.

Outside, one of the four gate guards approached, his hand wandering to the hilt of his sword as he took in the obviously southern carriage and drivers.

"Halt. State your business in the capital."

"On our way to Haldencort Square, our mistress has a meeting with Amenthere's jewel merchants."

"And your mistress's name?" Even through the curtains over the carriage windows, Kiiss could hear the suspicion in the soldier's voice.

"Karambi ArtMaker."

Kiiss hadn't used that particular alias in a while, and even had papers with her bearing 'Karambi's signature if needed. Unfortunately, these guards didn't even seem willing to take the time to differentiate between a wanted southerner and an innocent ArtMaker. Ignoring the protests of her drivers, the four men surrounded the carriage with swords half-drawn. Kiiss could hear the zebras yipping nervously, bells jingling as they danced side-to-side in their harnesses. She had rather been expecting at least a knock, but was ready for it all the same when the carriage door was yanked wide open.

"You there! Out!"

"Oh! Well, if you insist..." Scooting down the bench, Kiiss pulled herself up and ducked outside onto the step. "You know, I actually quite enjoy a forceful man."

The soldiers all had their visors down, so Kiiss couldn't see if her comment and wink had caught the leader off guard or not. Usually younger men were easy to fluster with a little unsolicited flirting. The man's voice came hard and cold as iron through his helmet.

"The city is closed to incoming travel today. Get into your carriage and return the way you came."

"Closed!? Ha! I think you're teasing me, dear sir. Look at all the people on the road here, a dozen of which you've already allowed in before us."

"The city is closed," the soldier repeated.

Kiiss decided to push her luck and try a different tactic. "Ahhh, I see." Dropping down to a conspirator's whisper, she sauntered closer, hips rolling dramatically to make her coin purse jingle. "I hadn't realized that there was a toll in effect today, silly me! Was it three sols, then?"

It was a cold day in Utunma when a bribe didn't work to get Kiiss where she needed to go. Apparently, winter had come early to the south; the soldier didn't so much as twitch. One of the other men's helmet was turned in the direction of the zebras though. The animals were distinctive...practically Kiiss's trademark around Moaan. They had left for Amenthere on such short notice, there just hadn't been time to secure a team of antelope, much less a team trained to run in front of a carriage. Kiiss had been hoping that the capital's general lack of knowledge regarding Undorian draft animals might spare them. Now, as the man circled the fidgeting zebras, she was beginning to worry that they would have no such luck.

"Sergeant," The nosy soldier began. "That briefing from the palace..."

The game was up. Kiiss bolted from the carriage door, the shout for her drivers to charge their way through half-formed in her throat. Maybe they could at least get Vinie to safety before they were surrounded. The lead zebras reared up onto their hind legs. A crossbow bolt struck the doorframe just above her hand.

"It's her, it's the assassin's accompli-!"

The soldier's shout was cut off abruptly by a watery gurgle. Screams of alarm went up from the waiting queue outside the Southern Gate as half a dozen masked figures appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Dropping down from atop the gate winch, slipping around corners, even materializing from under the raggedy cloak of a 'beggar', the new arrivals took the four soldiers off-guard. Or rather, three soldiers; the sergeant dropped face-down, stabbed from behind in the thin seam where his helmet met his gorget.

Shouts from above on the city walls drew Kiiss's attention. Seeing the four gate guards attacked, the soldiers on the barbican were quick to respond. Five more rushed for the stairs to the street, while another lifted a polished horn to his lips. He never drew enough breath to sound the alarm though. Unseen to those on the road below, a tiny dart, barely larger than a hairpin, pierced him straight through the ear into his unprotected head. And so, the crowd gathering in The Lair less than ten city blocks away heard nothing as the Southern Gate of Amenthere saw blood for the first time in nearly a thousand years.

At first glance, with the arrival of reinforcements from the walls above, eight soldiers against six seemed like problematic odds. The fight was quickly evened out though when Kiiss's carriage drivers joined the fray. Meanwhile, the civilians on the road outside could not get away from the Southern Gate fast enough. Despite the recent rebellion in the south, these were largely peaceful lands, the people – far removed from their ancestors in the days of First King Amenthis - unused to battle. However, news would now spread far and wide across the Gorian countryside that war had come to Amenthere.

The soldiers of the city guard were well-equipped, well-trained, and fighting on familiar ground. They were not, however, trained to fight against smaller, faster opponents using unconventional weapons. Each parry meant to deflect another swordsman only created space for the masked fighters to jab at unarmored armpits. Each sweeping attack provided opportunities for a second assailant to jump onto the soldier's back, ankles locked tight and a poisoned dagger at the ready. One by one the eight soldiers died, either outmaneuvered by an increasing number of opponents or felled by the venomous edge of a nimble blade. Kiiss was left standing inside the Southern Gate, surrounded by dead Gorians, her drivers, and six masked rescuers.

One of them – the tallest – sheathed their curved dagger and approached. They still wore their mask, but Kiiss didn't need it removed to know who it was.

"You cut that close enough, Ekene. Don't tell me you've developed a taste for showmanship?"

"I learned it all from you, mum."

"Ha!" Kiiss let out a snort and slapped her thigh. A sudden thumping from inside the carriage drew everyone's attention. "I think I had better let Vinie out. She's probably imagining the worst, shut up alone in there."

Ekene nodded. "Yas, let's meet this famous 'General of Undor'. We don't have much time though; The Lair is almost full."

OoOoO

The second the trapdoor opened, Vinie was popping out like a caged jaguar, blades first. Her relief at seeing Kiiss alive and apparently unharmed was quickly tempered however by the realization that they had company. Half a dozen strangers stood around the carriage, clad head-to-toe in what appeared to be skin-tight armor fashioned from crocodile skin. Vinie counted four women and two men, all armed with an array of belawa knives, throwing darts, and curved daggers. Their faces were covered as well, but Vinie recognized the masks' designs; smooth and expressionless as an executioner's mask, accented by geometric patterns of red on white.

"Stargazers!" she exclaimed.

"You were expecting First King Amenthis?" One woman, the apparent leader of the group, cocked her head downward at Vinie. "You're shorter than I was expecting, BlackPearl."

"These are your contacts in Amenthere, Kiiss?" asked Vinie, still watching the masked Stargazers dubiously. Although Stargazers weren't quite as reviled in the south as they were throughout the rest of Goran, they were generally considered to be dangerous and best dealt with cautiously, if at all. Plus, Vinie wasn't entirely inclined to trust them after the whole business with Gideo and the failed attempt on Mahir's life.

"I told you they would know what to do." Kiiss flashed Vinie a quick grin. Then, to Vinie's surprise, Kiiss approached two of the Stargazers – the smallest man and woman – with arms open wide. "Otch, come here you two! You went and grew the rest of the way up on me while I was away!"

"Grandmuuuuuum!" A whine of protest rose from under the mask of the boy as Kiiss wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Grandmum?!" Vinie gasped aloud.

One by one, the six Stargazers lifted their masks to reveal dark, unmistakably Undorian-born faces. Three women, ranging from their early forties to about Vinie's age, a man likely a few years older than Gideo, and two young people, a boy and a girl around Yidu's age.

"But I thought..." bewildered, Vinie turned from face to face to face. "Kiiss...you said your sons..."

Kiiss nodded grimly. "Yas, they were executed. These are my daughters and son-by-wed, and these two freshlings are Chidea and Ngozi, my eldest boy Nalo's children by Ekene here."

"And you're all assassins?" gaped Vinie, once again sizing up just how young Chidea and Ngozi looked bookending their grandmum.

"If that offends you, we can always let you take it from here," said one of the other women haughtily. "I'm sure Mahir will be glad to just hand over Gideo SkinPainter if you ask him."

"Anuli, we don't have time." Kiiss's voice was stern. "Okoreo, are the rest of the guild willing to help too?"

The lone man spun his knife into its sheath with a whirling flourish. "They'll meet us at The Lair. About half the guild, twenty Stargazers. We picked mostly inlander members to best mix with the crowd."

"Good. Chidea, Ngozi...you two go back to Westwatch. Your younger cousins will need protecting if something goes wrong."

"But grandmum-" the girl, Chidea, began to protest.

"Go, Chidea. Ngozi, you too." Ekene's tone would not be argued with. Huffing, the two teenagers jammed their masks back down over their faces and slipped away, as quietly and completely as wisps of smoke down the alleyways.

"Alright...any more side-notes, or do we actually want to rescue Gideo while there's still something of him left to rescue?" The third woman - the one closest to Vinie's age – folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Yas! What's the quickest way to get to Gideo? Where is he being held!?"

"I'm afraid it can't be helped that we've already missed the easiest opportunity to snatch him." Anuli looked to the third woman. "Dalar, we're sure they've already moved him to The Lair?"

"Yas, there are cells under the stadium that used to be used for holding racing animals. Our spy in the First Company said that Gideo was moved there under heavy guard earlier this afternoon."

Kiiss pursed her lips. "Damn. We're running out of time for planning elaborate break-ins. We seem to have frightened everyone else off, but I'm guessing The Lair must be just about full now. It won't be long until Mahir arrives..."

The man, Okoreo, smirked sideways at Vinie. "Shame, I hear that you have a talent for prison breaks, BlackPearl."

Vinie could feel the sharp edges of panic – previously dulled by the distraction of the guards and the arrival of the Stargazers – beginning to prick at her heart once more. Fingers flexing around the hilt of her belawa, she shook her head and exclaimed aloud;

"We're not the ones running out of time...Gideo is! It sounds like we don't have any choice left but to just get to The Lair and deal with what happens as it happens. Come on!"

Vinie was just about to turn away from the group and start running down the street when she realized something; she didn't even know the way to The Lair. Oddly enough, there wasn't even the usual raucous of a gathered crowd in the distance to guide the way. Forced to admit that she couldn't do this on her own, Vinie had no choice but to wait for someone else to take the lead.

"If we just go strolling up to The Lair's gates, us southerners as we are, we won't even make it inside before getting arrested," protested Dalar.

"We won't make it in..." Ekene seemed to agree. "but they would." She pointed to the bodies of the fallen gate guards.

"Especially if they were bringing something to present to Mahir, say a valuable prisoner." The sideways look Kiiss slid toward Vinie was pure evil. It only took Vinie half a second to catch up to what Kiiss and the Stargazers were proposing.

"This is insane," muttered Anuli.

"So am I." Vinie stuck out her hands toward Ekene. "Arrest me then, soldier."

OoOoO

The light of the early autumn sun struck Gideo full in the face as the gate before him creaked open, leaving him momentarily blinded. He nearly stumbled as the two soldiers on either side of him half-led, half-dragged him out onto the floor of The Lair. Sand crunched under his sandals, the sound echoing ominously in the eerily quiet stadium.

Every seat was filled, thousands of pale Gorian faces staring silently down at Gideo as he was brought out to stand before the royal viewing box. Some faces were angry, others smug. Many more seemed somewhat shell-shocked though, as if they couldn't quite believe what they were about to witness. The royal proclamation heralded far and wide throughout the city and countryside had been clear; "All citizens of Goran are formally requested by His Majesty, King Mahir Amenthis, to bear witness to the public execution of a Factionist ringleader and traitor to the realm." When the king requested something of anyone, much less a commoner, it really wasn't a request. And so they had come, from far and wide, from the richest district of Berem's Grove to the humblest farm, to watch a man die.

The royal viewing box was full too. The entire Magicol of Goran was there, including the Ovates. Mahir had insisted upon it, his reasoning the same as when he had insisted they be present for Master Tomur and Margalee's punishment.

Prince Hithon was also there, pale and trembling beside his father. Mahir did not relish the memory of their first ever true quarrel the night before. He had sat Hithon down and informed him that, as future king of Goran, it was both necessary and his duty that he attend the execution. To Mahir's surprise, Hithon had argued, flat-out refusing to even hear of it. Mahir could accept a great deal of softness and peculiarity from his beloved only son – his recent penchant for the Vaelonese fashion of heavy cosmetics included – but on this issue he had dug in and stood his ground. If Hithon was going to survive as king in a world apparently determined to tear itself apart, he would have to be hardened. Witnessing the execution of Gideo SkinPainter was a serious first step toward that end. In the end, Mahir had won the argument, but not without also succeeding in reducing to Hithon to tears and sending him fleeing from the room. All the more proof, to Mahir's mind, of the necessity of his presence for this exercise of authority.

An Amentherian judge stepped up to the podium in the viewing box, unfurling a scroll. He began reading off the official charges of treason, attempted regicide, and a litany of other crimes of which Gideo stood accused. Gideo for his part was not listening to any of it. He stood, hands wringing the chain around his wrists, trying to cling to his last dregs of courage. The first thing he had seen after his eyes recovered from the sunlight was the stake, standing like the mast of a shipwreck in the center of The Lair. His back was to the pyre right now, but he could feel its presence like a blast of frigid ocean wind.

"From the sea, of the sea, to the sea..." he whispered over the droning of the judge. Gideo had never been particularly spiritual, preferring to leave matters of life and death to the shamans. Only lately had he become more curious as to what came after, knowing what he knew about Vinie and her ghosts. Now that he was literally face-to-face with his own mortality, he was afraid. Afraid for himself...afraid for Vinie...afraid for young Zaneo and Tani, who had already lost both parents and now clung to 'Uncle Gideo' more fiercely than ever before. Would Vinie someday be able to bond with the boys the way Gideo still hoped she might? After this, the three of them were literally all each other would have, besides poor old Bakko.

"-for the villainous nature of these crimes, as well as the grievous harm done to both crown and country, King Mahir Amenthis hereby sentences you, Gideo SkinPainter, to death by fire. Do you have any last words before you die?"

Feeling as though he were trapped in a nightmare from which he could not wake, Gideo slowly forced himself to look up at the royal viewing box. Oddly enough, it was not to Mahir – seated smug and armored like a warrior king – that his gaze was drawn. It was to one of the Ovates, a young girl around Yidu's age who, despite having the nose of an inlander, was clearly Undorian by birth. She sat, rigid and still beside Arzai, a look of strange intensity in her ruby red eyes. She stared intently back at Gideo, and it was to her that Gideo spoke more than anyone else in The Lair.

"We are Undor, and we are free. From the sea...of the sea...to the sea."

A wave of buzzing murmurs broke out, rippling through The Lair all the way up to the highest seats below the ring of stone dragons. Mahir held up a hand, and the murmuring was immediately silenced.

"I'm afraid that you are a very long ways from the sea here indeed. Proceed."

The guards spun Gideo about, and he was abruptly brought face-to-face with the stake. His heart began to race, thudding so hard against his ribs that surely everyone in The Lair must hear it. Gideo thought, at the last, that he might try and at least put up a fight. He wanted to, but fear had him so paralyzed that it was all he could do to not simply collapse between his two captors. Terror rose like bile in the back of his throat as they reached the bottom of the pyre. With one guard pulling the chain between his wrists and the other urging him alone with the point of a sword, the guards forced Gideo to climb up and onto the small wooden platform at the center. A large iron ring dangled three-quarters of the way up the stake. Unlocking the cuff around one of Gideo's wrists, the guards fed the chain through the ring before re-cuffing him and leaving him there.

Standing there, hands chained above his head, surrounded by kindling and the weight of thousands of watching eyes, Gideo began to tremble violently. He had seen a man burned once, in an accident that burnt down the LanternMaker's shop in Utunma. When the poor soul died of his terrible injuries that very night, it had come as a relief to everyone, but most of all to the LanternMaker himself. Gideo had been only a young orphaned boy at the time, but he could still remember the screams. Never in a thousand years would he have ever thought his own life would end this way. Hanging his head, Gideo closed his eyes and chanted the words to the old shamans' blessing harder than he ever had before.

"From the sea, of the sea, to the sea. From the sea, of the sea, to the sea. From-"

"High Obad."

Mahir's voice, calm and cold, brought Gideo's head snapping up. In the royal box, Arzai rose from her seat and stepped forward. She and Gideo's eyes met. Then, a fiery glow kindled behind that draconic red gaze, and Gideo knew that he was lost.   

OoOoO