Quistis waited in the cold and watched the Gate as it slowly completed its final revolution. Symbols in a language she couldn’t decipher glowed around the circumference of the great star ore portal. In the chill morning air, she sweated.


    Falor wasn’t back yet, still helping with the fires. Barlo helped dig out those caught in the blast at the Guild. Rumi and Aidan were sifting through the ruins of Angledeer’s home.


    That only left her to face the great Gate. She would rather have faced Cinder. But Cinder had managed to escape and had sent the entire Valen council into an absolute tizzy. She didn’t even want to imagine facing High Lord Diogron that morning or on any other day for the rest of Winter.


    And, of course, there had been no Descent yet that night, and it was nearing dawn. The mood around Valen was as sour as pickled lemons. Some hopefuls still hung around the podium raised at the Fortress, doggedly determined to wait until the first sliver of light for a god to show.


    She’d been awake for so long already that her vision swam and her legs felt as if made of jelly. As the Gate glowed to life and its circle filled up with the tar-like substance that allowed transference, she found herself scratching insistently at her throat, where the sword had cut… her?


    “Bugger.” That image and the feeling attached to it would take some time to fade. She pulled her collar up and hid away the freezing line of blood. A draught would take care of it later.


    A woman stepped through the portal, walking with a steady, confident gait down the frozen slope. She was bareheaded, with a crown of loose ashen-grey hair blowing in the early morning breeze, and a tiny, frail circlet of spun silver sitting atop her head. Eyes the colour of distant glaciers found hers and bore through to the back of her head, as if aiming to read her mind. Of what she knew of Empress Catharina’s abilities, that might have even been the case.


    She wore the Storm Guard uniform, white and blue, and a short sword hung at her belt.


    Another woman, dressed in furs, trailed shortly behind and struggled to not slip. Quistis could only see bespectacled green eyes shining from the narrow gap between the face covering and the cloak’s fur-lined cowl.


    “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said to the first, trying to sound cheerful, and saluted.


    How the Empress had found out so quickly of the night’s events, she couldn’t begin to imagine. But when the runner found her in the Guild’s ruined courtyard, and told her that the Gate was calling in, she had known who would be visiting.


    “Where’s my son?” the Empress asked with barely a glance at her dishevelled state. “I want to talk to him.”


    “He’s helping put out fires.”


    “Fetch him. I’ll be in his office.” Her voice was as calm and calculated as if this were really just an informal visit.


    Quistis found herself dismissed as the Empress strode past her. The woman following gave her a short, friendly wave of the hand as she followed her liege. No bodyguards came through the Gate, no advisers or courtiers. It shut down with a hiss of steam escaping from somewhere within the great construction.


    The Empress and her Adjunct were in Valen. Diogron would be livid and she’d need to deal with it after they left. Cinder had come calling and had escaped. Falor had nearly blown up half of the Alchemist’s Quarter. Again. And the two most dangerous women in the Empire came by Gate at the crack of dawn, straight into Valen’s heart. May as well have made a declaration of war while they were at it, to top off a smashing night.


    Quistis wanted to curl up in a dark, quiet corner somewhere, eat a bagful of burn-leaf and put herself to sleep through what were going to be a couple of absolutely buggering days.


    She found Falor supervising the digs through Angledeer’s ruined abode. When Cinder had disappeared to wherever she had gone, the entire place had come down around those trapped inside. Naturally, it also caught fire and it had spread to the buildings tightly clustered around. Smoke hung in the air. People shouted and worked to dig out their homes.


    Falor stood amid the sooty wreckage, hands and uniform stained black from the work, cuts and bruises clear on whatever skin wasn’t dirtied. His hammer was leaned against a wall nearby, discarded.


    He’d refused her healing earlier and sent her to deal with the other wounded. His head wound had dried, and his forehead was grimy where he’d tried to wipe away fresh blood.


    “Your mother’s going to have kittens if she sees you like this,” she said by way of greeting.


    “She’s going to have kittens anyway she sees me. Is she here?”


    “Waiting in your office. Came alone with the Adjunct. Can’t remember the name.”


    Falor gave a short grunt and a nod. He washed his hands in the snow and went to pick up his hammer. Didn’t even need telling that the Empress wanted him.


    Rumi and Aidan huddled together over some pieces of the wreckage, carefully extracting some tomes from underneath the rubble. Two soldiers held up a tarp over them to hold off the snow.


    “Report as soon as you have anything interesting,” Falor called to the two. “I want to know where they’ve gone. And I want that shard. Keep digging until you find it.”


    “Aye, ‘mandah,” Aidan replied without looking up from his work. Rumi just waved a hand in acknowledgement.


    Quistis followed up behind him, running to catch up to his long strides. “Let me heal you at least. Please.” He didn’t respond, just kept walking.


    He wasn’t even angry, not really. She recognized his anger in all its forms, and this wasn’t it. Something else ate at him but he’d bring it up when he was good and ready. All in all, Cinder hadn’t done as much damage as feared. Either she’d held back, or she’d been careful for some reason, but her destruction had been tame compared to six years prior.


    Most of the damage was from Falor himself, a fact that would not escape Valen’s council and their lengthy complaints.


    “Do you know why she was trying to get into the archives?” she ventured a question as they climbed the stairs to the Fortress.


    Their soldier guarded the entrances and were all standing perfectly ramrod straight. The Empress had passed that way it seemed, if their steely-eyed, terrified expression was anything to go by.


    “I haven’t the bloodiest, Quis. Wish I knew at least that so the night wouldn’t have been a total loss.” He sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder. Clouds of smoke were dispersing in the clear morning light. The snowfall had eased up and they could see across the entirety of Valen.


    “We were so certain of the Aieni connection,” Quistis said. She also sighed. “We harassed an innocent woman. Runner came back saying the lady Aieni refused my apology. Slammed the door in his face.”


    Falor let out a slow, grim chuckle as he braced to push open the door to his office.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    “Pyromancers…”


    The door swung open from the inside and the short, thin woman from the gate welcomed them into their own office. Her name… was Lya? Laya? Quistis was pretty certain it wasn’t.


    “Good morning, Leea,” Falor said as he passed by.


    Empress Catharina was seated behind his desk, ruffling through the papers that he was supposed to get to after the Cinder operation was complete. Reports, mostly. Guard routines. Troublesome elements in Valen. Mage killers and their training. Nothing of immediate concern. The look of absolute boredom on the Empress’s face said as much.


    “So, she’s not dead?” she asked, looking up at him over the rim of her tiny reading glasses.


    Falor shrugged and dropped his hammer with a dull thud on the floor.


    “You’re in my seat, mother,” he replied instead. “Find another.”


    They stared at one another and the atmosphere charged with electricity. Leea sidled up to Quistis and whispered, “Would you like me to bring you a mug of coffee, Captain Quistis?” She even gave her a bright, dimpled smile that was simply not fit for the state of that morning.


    “Yes, please,” she whispered back. “And one for him. Strong as you can make it. It’ll mellow him out.”


    “Like mother, like son.” Leea melted out of the room as soundless as a ghost.


    “You look like death. Did she really take so much out of you?” The Empress looked him up and down with a critical eyebrow raised. “I’m frankly disappointed in you and Cinder.” Her eyes snapped to Quistis. “Why haven’t you healed him? I can see the blood from here.”


    Quistis felt her spine grow cold under that electric gaze.


    “He won’t let me.” Her voice squeaked and she felt a blush going up to the tips of her ears.


    “Typical.” She sighed and rubbed under her glasses. “Sit down, Falor, somewhere. I’m not angry. I just have questions.”


    Leea returned with a tray of steaming mugs and handed them out before taking her place behind the Empress. Fresh aroma of dark roasted coffee filled the small office. They all sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments before Falor spoke up.


    “She’s not dead because she had shards ready. Two sets of them even.” He grimaced at the idea. “That’s egg on my face. I’m already checking our reserves of shards in the vaults, testing every one. Everything seems accounted for.”


    He sat heavily in Quistis’s chair and groaned as some ache of the night found him. “Fortunately, I’m sure that she’s not picked up the twin of the one she first used. We should have it soon.”


    The Empress raised a finger to Leea and the Adjunct quickly wrote down something in a small, ragged notebook.


    “We’ll check ours in Aztroa Magnor, and the ones in Solstice, though I doubt it came from any of the known stocks. Did you relay my message to her?”


    “Hadn’t the chance.”


    “Quite. I heard you came in swinging the gavel.” She glared at him, glasses steaming as she sipped more coffee, though she said nothing more on the subject. “Do you know who’s been helping her?”


    Falor looked to Quistis.


    “We believe she’s got two permanent associates,” she said, carefully. “One’s a healer, unidentified. The other’s a warrior, unidentified as well. This was assumed from the Flesh Doll memories and confirmed last night. As she has Iliaya’s Staff, we can’t identify by face but we’ll run a recognition campaign all the same once the dust settles.”


    “They were also helped by one Ludwig Angledeer,” Falor went on, cracking his finger joints one by one. “Scholarly type. Seems to have been a teacher back in Cinder’s days at Hoarfrost. No trouble caused in Valen before. Travelled about and came back here to roost.” He rubbed at his forehead and let out a groan, but waved Quistis away when she wanted to see about his clearly concussed skull.


    “Stop that,” both Quistis and the Empress snapped at him as he started on the other hand’s fingers.


    “And just let the girl heal you, you overgrown child. Stop sulking. Your head bleeding won’t suddenly end Cinder wherever she’s gone.” The Empress looked up and over her shoulder. “Leea, why does Angledeer sound familiar to me? Did I ever commend this person for anything?”


    Leea thought for a moment before replying, “Yes, ma’am. He is person number three on your list for immediate execution if ever found within a hundred leagues of Aztroa Magnor. He is to be beheaded and, to quote Your Majesty, fed to the dogs in itty-bitty-tiny pieces, boiled preferably.” She smiled apologetically, as if she’d said something rude.


    The Empress snapped her fingers. “Oh right, I remember him. Goboid of a man. Surprised he’s still alive.” She leaned back in Falor’s chair, closed her eyes and drained the rest of her mug. “He’s finally found someone to take his insanity seriously. Only took him a century or so.”


    Quistis finally got her hands in Falor’s hair and felt about. It hadn’t been a concussion, but close enough. She whispered her prayer to the Goddess and healed him. It made her feel better, if not him.


    “Do you know where they’ve gone?” Falor asked.


    Quistis could see his knuckles turn white as he squeezed the cup. She took it away from him before it shattered and he cut himself.


    “Oh, yes,” the Empress replied, “I know exactly where they’ve gone if they went along with that basket case. If you do find that shard, don’t use it.”


    “Tell me. I’ll have her dead within the week.”


    “You’ll have yourself dead within the day, and me very cross. No, I—”


    Vial burst into the room and nearly toppled Quistis. “Captain, you need to see this.” He froze when he saw the Empress looking at him, eyebrow raised. He made to kneel, but Falor gestured for him to be at ease.


    “What’s happened?” he asked, urgently. “More fires?”


    “No, Commander. There’s been a Descent.” He looked from Falor to Quistis, red-faced now that everyone was staring at him. “Uh, you need to come see.”


    “Well, that’ll give Diogron something to preen over,” the Empress said as she strode past. “Can’t imagine Lord Ort’s come down so I don’t see why all the excitement.”


    They could hear voices rising in hymns and cheers as they neared an exit to an over-viewing balcony. A chill blasted in when soldiers opened the wide doors. The noise was louder now, and some confusion mingled into the cherring.


    A crowd gathered in the courtyard. People surged in through the thrown-open gateways as word spread out into the city. Men and women still sooty from fighting the fires came in droves to see who’d come to bless Valen’s Thaw and Summer.


    Diogron was there, on his knees, resplendent in his best robes. Sprite light made him twinkle as he raised his hands to the figures on the podium.


    On one side of the marble podium was a woman of incredible height, like a tower of rippling muscles, with auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. Her skin was the colour of burnished gold and seemed to reflect the sprite light. She wore the most intricate dress Quistis had ever seen, adorned with jewels of rainbow colours, fragile chains of gold and silver, and armour plates that floated gently atop the rest.


    Three enormous swords orbited around her, each of a different make and style. A thin, straight rapier like the gentry of Valen, Drack and Aztroa favoured, encrusted with sapphires and blood rubies. A black, broad bastard sword favoured by the demon-forged warriors of the Twins, the blade of blackest obsidian. And an ugly curved scimitar of the simplest steel. Barlo would be insufferable for this clear show of favour from Cassandra herself.


    But even the goddess Cassandra stared in utter confusion at the second figure.


    “Who is that?” Falor asked what Quistis and the crowd were thinking.


    She’d been to Nights of Awakening with her sister when they were girls, and then as part of the prince’s retinue once out of the School of Healing. Quistis had never felt compelled to kneel.


    She did so automatically now.


    The second figure was small and so white as if made of chalk. She was also completely naked. She marched along the edges of the podium and stared over the crowd, her gaze swivelling as if searching intensely for something.


    Gasps from the crowd had Quistis raising her eyes. The figure had jumped down among the people and elbowed her way through the crowd, still searching. Everyone parted for her.


    She reached the edge of the courtyard, at the gate atop the great stairs coming up from the Inner Plaza. After a long time looking across the city, she stamped down her foot in frustration and vanished without a word.


    The Empress whistled, and then confirmed what Quistis knew within herself.


    “Now that’s peculiar,” she said with a tinge of amusement. “That, boy, was Panacea. Haven’t seen her in over two centuries. Wonder what''s dragged her out from under her rock.”