The day was not promising; the sky loured, dim and gray and close, and there was a bitter, moist wind, a capricious one that announced itself by slapping exposed skin. I tugged my cloak closer as the ostler brought my friends their mounts, and mine came last of all. The drake was glad to see me, resting its narrow head against mine, hot, scaled brow to my cheek. Glad of the warmth, I tightened my arms around it and sighed. It felt strange to let others care for it, but I guessed my time with my mount was the least of the things I would be forced to relinquish in the days to come as I grappled with the responsibilities I had apparently inherited.

Nine returned to Ivy to ride with her; but Ivy was a part of me, and I didn’t mind it. I was however somewhat nonplussed when Seven asked to ride with Radburn, of all people.

“Has he requested you?” I asked, confused.

“No,” she said. “But I think he would like to talk. May I ask, Master?”

“Of course.”

Watching the dark genet make her way to Radburn’s side, Kelu said, “They really do have minds of their own after all.”

“All people do,” I said. “Even when they allow other people to make them up for them, most days.”

“He said ‘yes’,” Kelu said, ears flicking back. Radburn was helping the Pearl into his saddle. “I’m surprised. I expected him to say no.”

I had not, but I was surprised to find I’d been hoping for a rejection. I trusted Radburn, but the genets had been my responsibility for so long that it was strange to surrender the responsibility of their safety and well-being, even temporarily. “You are all very charming company,” I said. “Speaking of which, you should go up in the saddle. If, of course, you’re riding with me...?”

“I’m used to you,” Kelu said, and grasped the pommel of the drake’s saddle. As she scrabbled up, I helped Almond, who preferred to be boosted to her seat.

“Used to me,” I said, when I’d settled between the two of them. “I suppose it could be worse.”

“Everything can be worse,” Kelu said. And added, “You stink like sex.”

Primly, I replied, “So don’t press your nose in my hair.”

This garnered me no reply, which I thought was for the best.

The day lived up to the promise of its inauspicious beginning. We had a vague cold drizzle within an hour of setting out from Saintly, and it stopped only because the capricious wind swept the clouds to dark froth further down the road. The chill grew more distinct, and several more squalls chased us as the sun labored overhead. We ate a wet lunch huddled beneath the uncertain shelter of a few trees bordering the road, and even having fresh victuals from the church kitchen didn’t raise anyone’s spirits.

There was little conversation, and what there was of it was subdued. We showed our solidarity by riding close to one another. Ivy and Nine had my left side; my right side was claimed either by Eyre or Chester, with Last dogging my rear right flank. Guy and Radburn changed positions as pleased them, the latter I thought only when he noticed, for Seven kept him occupied. Even when their talk dwindled, I noted him staring down at the arms clasping his waist. Perhaps, like me, he found the silky fur astonishing on a creature who could also speak her mind.

Evening found us in a barn on a large farm owned apparently by a convent, visible in the distance as a huddle of buildings. The Vessel replied to my questions with her usual tranquility, and only toward the end did a spark of humor light her deep eyes. “Did you suppose we relied on charity for our food?” she asked at last.

“You could have,” I said. “There are not so many of you in compare, yes?”

“Better to be self-sufficient,” she replied as she untacked her horse, sidestepping the question neatly. “Then what charity we receive, we can distribute to those in need.”

I took this back to the others. “And here,” I concluded, “is where someone tells me about the power of the Church as land-holders.”

“And here is where we tell you that you are ill-informed,” Guy said. “The Church has always held land.”

“The government gave it to them in large chunks, even, after the Revolutionary War broke up the Vow Empire,” Chester said. “As a way of stripping power from the aristocracy.”

“Not that it helped,” Radburn said. “As taking power from the aristocracy merely concentrated it in the new merchant class.”

“You’re complaining about this why?” Guy said dryly. “As your family was the beneficiary of this transfer of power? The St. Clarys were born to their wealth and parlayed their hoard into a position of continued primacy in the new world order... but you and I would have been peons in the old system.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Radburn said. “I’m pointing out that we have not solved the problems of social justice. We’ve merely moved the injustice around.”

“There will always be a hierarchy.” Chester was belting on his sword. “We liberated it from inheritance and made it available to anyone with the will to obtain it. Surely that is an improvement.”

“That assumes that everyone with the will to obtain it is able,” Radburn said. “But we know that to be untrue. As Ivy herself would tell us, for instance; when one is saddled with childcare by social custom, one is hardly able to chase one’s fortunes.”

“Save by marrying,” Guy drawled.

“What do you think, Professor?” Radburn asked.

Eyre had taken a seat on one of the benches in the barn. “I think perfect fairness is available only to those who dwell in Heaven.”

“So we shouldn’t strive for it?” Radburn insisted. I noticed Nine listening very closely.

“Of course we should,” Eyre said. “But we should perhaps be more forgiving when we fail. And we will fail, Mister Douglas.”

Forgiveness… and failure… and the concentration of power in the hands of the few. I thought of kings and mortal magic, and my thoughts scattered, chasing shadows.

“Shall we importune your guards, Locke?”

I found Chester before me, wearing his sword. Shaking my head clear, I said, “Yes. Let us ask.”

“Ask what?” Radburn said.

“They want to go play with swords and staves,” Guy said. “And I will leave them to it. It looks likely to rain again, and it’s already cold.”

“May I attend?” Eyre asked.

“If you wish,” I said.

Kelu and Almond also chose to follow us, so we five went in search of Last. The captain was ensuring the security of the barn with the help of his human counterpart, whom I’d learned was named Samuel; the two of them were conferring by the fence that bordered the convent’s lands, and I waited until they’d finished before advancing Chester’s request. Last had a look at him, at his determination and the sword at his hip. Then he said to me, in the Angel’s Gift, “He looks likely. Is it your wish that he be trained?”

This sounded more serious than sparring. “Trained?”

“To defend against the unnatural armies brought forth by demons.” He glanced at Chester again. “We do not spar for pleasure, nor will I waste my men in pointless exercise. If he wishes to join us, it will be real training.”

“He’s good for it,” I said.

Last tilted his head. “You say this without asking him.”

“I know him,” I said. “I trust his commitment. He is not a man to take responsibilities lightly.”

Last considered us both, then nodded. To Chester in accented Lit, he said, “I will send for someone to teach you.”

Chester pressed his palm to his heart and inclined his head. “Thank you for the tutelage.”

As Last strode away to make the summons, I murmured, “It does not concern you to be taught?”

“When I have had armsmasters all my life?” Chester smiled. “Don’t fear, Locke. I am well accustomed to being chased around a field and left to nurse my bruises after.”

“That was different,” I said. “You were the heir to the St. Clary fortune. Your tutors were rather more careful of you, I imagine. And it was to learn a skill that you should not have needed to use.”

Something flickered in his eyes, almost too quickly for me to see: a ghost of regret and melancholy. “No. There was no need for the sword in our world, was there, Locke? Nor would I ever have been allowed to be a soldier.” He smiled whimsically. “The heir to the St. Clary fortune would not have been allowed to cast off his title and join the footmen who carried the Revolution to its successful conclusion.”

Had he been born too late, I wondered suddenly, and could not bear to ask. There was pain there and I had no desire to prick it to the surface. “So long as you wish it, then. Fair warning, though... Last is not a kind teacher.”

Chester chuckled “No armsmaster is, if he is to impart his craft. Besides, it would be a bad sign. If I earn no bruises, then a teacher has nothing to teach me. And I know for a fact that I haven’t learned everything yet.”

Eyre, who had been standing nearby, spoke. “If in the future you find yourself in need of a new master professor, Mister St. Clary, know that I will be glad to take you in. A student who is willing to admit to ignorance is precious and rare.”

Chester considered him. “You knew of the elves.”

Eyre nodded.

“It may be,” Chester said, meeting my eyes, “that it will be easier to cleave to one another on our return.”

“If we return,” I said.

I expected him to express surprise that I might doubt our desire to finish our education... or to protest my pessimism, if he interpreted that as a comment on our chances of survival. But he said only, “If we return.”

Eyre repaired to the grass beneath the eaves of the barn, his bedroll blanket tugged around him against the chill. Kelu and Almond sat on either side of him, and I wondered what he thought of their company. They seemed quite comfortable, however, so I felt no need to intervene.

Chester was assigned one of Last’s men, Sabaf. I studied Sabaf anew as they were introduced, wondering if he was one of these women-turned-men, but if he was I saw no sign of it… only the usual elven perfection, this time with pale blue hair over skin that had both the faint glitter of silver and the cool ivory of a peach in shadows. The two bowed to one another and began discussing Chester’s prior training. Last left them to it, rejoining me.

“They will suit,” he said. “Yon man seated by the wall was your mentor?”

“He was,” I said. “And I think of him so yet.”

Last’s mouth twitched. “Will he take it amiss when I throw you?”

“Was that a challenge, my captain?” I said, lifting the staff.

“It would only be a challenge if I thought there was some chance of you preventing it.” Last grinned. “Come. The field is nicely sticky. You will learn a great deal on this terrain.”

Most of what I learned involved how it felt to strike it from various angles. I’d expected mud to anchor me; certainly it had slowed the horses. I discovered instead that mud is slippery, and that the temperature of the rain and the air informs its composition. Cold mud is very uncomfortable.

Chester and Sabaf had finished their work before Last was done with me, though I didn’t know it until I slid in the mud one more time and found myself reluctant to rise. From repose, I had ample opportunity to espy Chester’s rueful expression. The guard, of course, wore an impeccable mask. I knew him from the ship to have something of a sense of humor, so I appreciated his repression of it.

“Enough for the night,” Last said and added to Sabaf, “Off with you. Tomorrow again, if your human is not whelmed by the ride.”

Sabaf inclined his head to Last, bowed to me, and jogged off. I envied his suppleness, wondering whether I would develop it or if the habits of a lifetime of sickness had forever habituated me to checking my movements. With a sigh, I dug the staff into the ground and used it to drag myself upright. “Captain,” I said. “As usual, your efforts are appreciated.”

“Lord Locke. Tomorrow, again.”

“Hopefully with less mud.”

Last’s mouth twitched. “We will pray for what will serve you best.”

Which struck me as wiser than what I’d planned, which had been to pray for what was easiest.

On the way back into the barn, Chester plucked the glasses off my nose and cleaned them with the edge of his scarf. “Took it like a man, Locke.”

“As opposed to like a ponce?” I asked, amused.

“Or a woman?” Kelu wondered, ears flicking back.

“Now,” Eyre said, “You are in trouble.”

Chester sighed.