[PM to Join] Night and Death

[Leander]

33rd Day of Loshis

Continued immediately after Wearing the Veil

The carriage ride back (well, not back, as Leo had instructed Glen to take them to Niccolette’s home and not back to the Attic0 was a silent affair. Niccolette still slept - Leo hoped - on Howie’s shoulder, and Howie stared out of the window, stiff as a board and clearly uncomfortable with the position he had been left in: a galdori woman worn out from exerting her magic resting on his shoulder.

For his part, Leo alternated between looking through the window, trying his best not to fall off the backwards-facing seat as the carriage bumped over every uneven cobblestone, and staring at the woman in question. To say that he was concerned would be a gargantuan understatement.

After what felt like the longest journey in history, the carriage finally pulled to a halt, and Leo turned to look out of the window again. He recognised the façade of Niccolette’s home and turned to Howie. He was under no illusions that Howie was best suited to carrying the woman into her home: Leo was a scrap (no pun intended) of a man compared with the beefy build of the other. “I will hold her up while you exit the carriage, then are you able to carry her into her home?”

The human nodded silently and waited for Leo to get off his seat and keel on the floor of the carriage. Arms outstretched, he gentle eased the sleeping woman off of Howie’s shoulder and held her still as Howie extra aged himself from her and pushed up from his seat and out of the carriage. He then turned, reaching back in with his arms and, in what might in another situation be considered perfect coordination from two men who barely knew each other, Leo gently pushed Niccolette over as Howie scooped and pulled her towards his body.

Once the galdor had been removed, the passive also made his exit, following Glen and Howie up to the front door, which they opened and the three traipsed inside. “Into the room over there,” Leo said, remembering the general layout of the room he had been invited into not long ago. He wasn’t about to search every room of the house looking for the woman’s bedroom, and he certainly didn’t want her waking up on her bed with three men looming over her. No, she had sat well enough in the carriage, so she would be fine in her seat in this living room.

“Put her in that chair, gently man,” Leander knew that Howie was rolling hie eyes, even with his back to the man, but he did as requested nonetheless. “Right, we need to - where are you going?” Now that Niccolette was safely ensconced in her own home, it seemed like the other two men were done. They had both made for the door.

“Our job is done,” Glen responded slowly, as if trying to explain a simple nursery rhyme to a child. “She is home. She will recover in her own time.” Leander blinked, confused. Had they not seen the blood, the shivering? Circle, the woman had passed out cold on the floor, or would have done if Howie hadn’t been there to catch her fall. He said as much to the two men. “Yeah, well... she used magic and she now is unconscious as a result of it. What d’you want us to do? Read to her? Slap her awake? She’ll be fine, lad. Stay if you want, but Howie and me ‘ave other things to do t’day.”

And, with that, Leo was speechless as he wanted the two men take their leave. He stood for a fair while, staring blankly at the door. Eventually, he looked over to the sleeping galdor. He was standing close enough that he could still feel the heat radiating off of her. The passive had no idea if it would help or not but he went to find the kitchen and returned with cloth, now wet and cool with water splashed onto it. The boy dabbed it lightly onto Niccolette’s forehead and exposed areas of her neck.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Evening, 33 Loshis, 2719
Sitting Room, the Ibutatu Residence

Half-awake, Niccolette felt the brush of water against her skin. She turned her head away, shuddering. “No,” she whispered, her own voice hoarse and half-aching, not sure if it was aloud in only in her chest. She couldn’t tell if they were tears or blood or something else; she did not know, still, if she was awake or asleep, if this was a pleasant dream, or else.

She was hot; there was heat all through her, and an ache somewhere deep inside, a place she could not name. It had seeped all through her, seeped through her bones and wriggled along the edges of them, along all the lines of her body; she could see herself, Niccolette thought, dizzily, a drawing of the nervous system overlaid against her skin; she could see the aches throbbing through, spreading out from –

Niccolette’s eyes opened, slowly. There was a worried, familiar face peering down at her, pinched in a frown; it took Niccolette a few moments to see him, to wade through the slow fuzziness of her mind and recognize who he was.

“Leander,” Niccolette said, finally, slowly. She sighed; she looked away. She was sitting, she realized, half-upright, in Uzoji’s chair. She shifted; she crossed her legs at the ankle. Her boots felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each; she wanted nothing so much as to remove them, to remove all that weighed her down.

Her lips tasted of blood, Niccolette thought, frowning faintly. Blood and lip color; it was not an unfamiliar combination. She touched her fingers to the skin beneath her nose; nothing wet, no fresh blood, but she felt the dry blood flake beneath her fingertips, and sighed again.

Niccolette shifted; she pushed her hair back off her forehead, combing fingers through tangled, bloody strands, getting them back over her head and off her face. She blinked at Leander, frowning, and glanced around at the study, then back at him. “What happened?” Niccolette asked, hoarse. The heat was fading, at least; her field was still well-organized around them, crisp and indectal, but duller, somehow, than usual, a little dampened.

“You have the paper?” Niccolette asked. “I remember…” she touched her fingertips to her forehead; her head ached, but it was a headache only, no throbbing spot of pain as if she’d fallen or been hit. “I remember leaving the building.” Niccolette said, slowly; she could picture the cool metal of the door against her fingers, and the brush of the breeze outside on her skin, the strange, sudden coolness of it. She frowned at Leander, waiting for him to fill in the rest.

It was too much to bear, Niccolette thought. She leaned down, carefully, balancing herself on the edge of the chair, and drew back the hem of her dress; her fingers were trembling, and leaning forward sent throbbing aches through her head, but she found the laces of her boots, slowly easing her fingers into them, and began to pull, undoing the knots bit by bit.

[Leander]

33rd Day of Loshis

Leo’s gentle efforts at cooling the woman down were halted when Niccolette stirred, murmuring her weak refusal at his ministrations. Pulling the cool, wet cloth away, he waited in silence for the galdor to return to full consciousness. She still seemed to radiate heat, despite the coldness of the rag on her forehead and neck. That, more than anything else, caused Leo concern. He didn’t really understand the relationship the galdori race shared with mona, so he didn’t know what was normal and what was not.

“Welcome back,” the passive whispered in greeting, shifting in his chair to sit back a little. He gave her the space to check in with herself, physically as well as otherwise. Leo had done nothing to dab off the patches of dried blood on her face, nor did he make any effort to sort out her hair or make her anywhere half presentable. But now that she had woken, she was starting to look a little better.

All the more surprising to the passive was that it was a relief to see her looking better. Since when did he start caring what happened to this woman?

“You... you passed out as we were leaving, yes,” the boy agreed quietly. lander stood and lifted the chair he had been sitting on and returned it to its place a little way across the room. He then sat back down in it. “We had left the building with the identification paper, but gap-tooth and his lackeys followed us out. You passed out, Howie caught you before you hit the ground, you were lucky with that one. Stop.”

Leo was up off his chair and kneeling down in front of the woman, who seemed to be struggling with the simple task of untying her bootlaces. “Relax, let me help you.” If she allowed him, Leo went to work untying the laces and loosening the fastenings enough for him to gently pull the boots off of her feet and place them to the side of the chair. If she refused his help, then he would return to his chair without another word on the matter. Regardless, he continued sharing what had happened to them after Niccolette had feinted.

“Apparently Hawke’s deal with Lemandier involved them seeing the paper as well before we left with it. It was certainly an anticlimax to an otherwise thrilling day. I showed one of them the paper. I have to say, I was surprised to discover that he could read it. But he did, and he handed it back to me.” Leander reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the parchment to prove that he still had it. “Then... we took you home.”

The boy swallowed: it was almost embarrassing to admit that he had been worried enough to linger in her home, so he skated over this next bit quickly before moving onto what should happen next. “Howie and Glen left, citing other business to attend to. My question now is what is meant to happen to this paper now?”

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Evening, 33 Loshis, 2719
Sitting Room, the Ibutatu Residence

Leander had gone, moving the chair he must have brought over and sitting again. Niccolette listened to him as best as she could through the painful throbbing in her head, bent forward, fumbling at her bootlaces. She felt a swell of nausea in her stomach, and she knew it had been a mistake to lower her head. The knot was stubborn, or perhaps her fingers were only tired; she knew she was struggling.

The word stop was a surprise, and then Leander was there, his fingers easing in between her own. She had half-expected them to be ink-stained; she was surprised to realize she already knew they were not. Niccolette hesitated, frowning faintly, and then nodded. She eased herself upright with a firm grasp on the arm of the chair, and sank against the back of it with a faint whimper.

Niccolette closed her eyes, listening to Leander through the slow easing of her painful head. The first boot came off, and then the second; she curled her toes in her plain gray socks. She couldn’t have said why it mattered; it felt a thousand times better, this way. Niccolette sighed, turning her face to rest her cheek against the cushion. As if, she thought bitterly, she could still draw some strength from its memory of Uzoji; as if. Her eyes fluttered open at the mention of the paper, and she nodded faintly when Leander showed it to her. At least they still had it, Niccolette thought. It tightened her jaw, that realization, and sent a little sluggish spark of energy through her.

“It must go to Hawke’s palace,” Niccolette said. She sighed; she rested one hand against her face, rubbing her temples sign her fingertips. ”Tonight,” Niccolette took a deep breath, looking regretfully down at her boots, and lowered her hand. She tucked her feet up onto the cushion with her, knees turned to point out at the room, her skirt shifting. She did not bother to smooth it out, and there was a flash of bare calf exposed, pale in the dim light.

”It is better if I go with you,” Niccolette said, quietly. Howie and Glen had seen her faint; Leander too. The men they had met with might or might not have realized. If she wished to have a reputation, still, in the morning, Niccolette knew she could not stay home. She touched her face again, and grimaced. Not like this; that would be worse than not going. She would need to get ready, and to do it herself. She could not think on it, too much; she did not try.

Niccolette settled sock-clad feet back onto the floor. She took a deep breath, and pushed herself to her feet, holding shakily to the arm of the chair. She wobbled; she wobbled significantly, her face half-drained of color once more, but she did not fall. She looked up at Leander, waiting, half-expecting him to start berating her about things he did not understand. Again, Niccolette thought; she could not have said why the thought amused her, just a little, along with the irritation. She was tired, she told herself.

[Leander]

33rd Day of Loshis

The woman’s eyelids were weighed down and her movements sluggish. Perhaps more telling was the fact that she showed enough weakness in allowing him to undo her laces and remove her boots. Niccolette, from what Leander knew of her in their few brief meetings, was a strong woman with a need for independence that bordered on the pathological - much like Leander. It was concerning not to know that she didn’t seem to be able to muster the strength to remove her own shoes, but that she was willing to let him do it.

“Is there anything I can get you,” he asked softly, “Pain relief perhaps? Something to bring down your temperature?” He had no idea if a remedy would help against whatever magic had caused her to feel, but he was beginning to receive the impression that this wasn’t normal. He had seen Niccolette cast magic before, on their very first meeting, and he couldn’t remember her bleeding or fainting then. “Something to drink or eat?” He felt useless: Niccolette had started the day without her usual gusto, and now she seemed even... lesser.

“I don’t think it...” he was going to say that he didn’t think it wise for her to exert herself anymore, but he knew that she would never accept that. ‘Tonight’ gave them a wide window to head over to find Hawke, with a few hours still left in the day. He would accommodate her, but only if her current condition improved. Right now, she looked as if a soft wind would have her toppling over again.

His worries were proven to be correct when the galdor pushed herself up from her seat and she wobbled. In an instant, Leander was also up and in front of her, hands resting on her elbows in an attempt to steady her. “You want to go now.” It was a statement rather than a question, accompanied by a sigh of acceptance, indicating that he disagreed wholeheartedly with the plan. “You cannot go without your shoes,” he said instead, “Let’s just...” he nodded back at the chair, hoping she would sit again. Under her elbows, Leander could practically feel Niccolette’s body vibrating with the effort it was taking her to stand. If it took this much of her energy, there was no way she was in a fit enough condition to travel to hand over the document to Hawke.

“Please, eat or drink something, then I will accompany you to Hawke, we will hand over the document tonight.” He wasn’t going to bend on this request. They had no need to go to Hawke right this second, and Leo would have to secure another carriage if Niccolette did not recover further. With her consent, he left her sitting and headed through to search for the kitchen. He returned in short order with a simple meal of eggs and plain bread. He also brought through a warm, sugary cup of tea. He didn’t expect her to manage all of it, but he practically ordered her to at least try to each some of the bread and drink most of the tea.

“This... this reaction to using mona... it’s not normal, is it?” Leo asked as she ate. “Last time you seemed to fair much better, but this time all you did was enhance my sight. Surely that is a minor spell, how can it have affected you so badly.” His questions were coloured by both intellectual curiosity and genuine concern for the woman. Had he known this would be the outcome, he would have thought twice about agreeing to her using magic for such a minor thing. He knew he would have future reservations about allowing her to force her body through such a strenuous task again.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Evening, 33 Loshis, 2719
Sitting Room, the Ibutatu Residence

Niccolette shook her head faintly at Leander’s offer of pain or temperature relief; it ached, and she sighed. She knew this sort of magical exhaustion too well; it was a warning from the mona that she had pushed herself, cast against not only her better judgment but also theirs. It was meant to be born, to be suffered, not soothed away like a child’s illness.

Niccolette shook her head again at the offer of food and drink. She was not sure when last she had eaten. Surely it had been today, hadn’t it? But there was no hunger inside her; she could not summon up even the desire for it. The black dress had fit in Thul Ka; it had been loose at the waist today, loose enough for tailoring. Niccolette could not think on it any more than that; she knew, but she could not.

Leander’s hands braced her elbows. Niccolette frowned at him; his touch felt cool even though the black fabric of the lacy dress. She felt them tremble faintly when he sighed, or perhaps she was the one trembling; Niccolette could not tell. She raised her eyebrows lightly at Leander’s demands, lips pressing together.

“I shall try,” Niccolette acquiesced. She lowered herself back into the chair, and tucked her feet up once more. Her eyes fluttered shut to the sight of Leander leaving the room; she curled her cheek into the back of the chair.

Niccolette woke to the sound of footsteps and the smell of eggs. She blinked, bleary-eyed; a strand of hair was stuck to her cheek just beyond the corner of her mouth, and she brushed it away. Leander set down bread and eggs and tea on the small table next to the chair. Niccolette made a little face, looking down at it.

Leander was stern about it - sterner than she had expected. Niccolette was not entirely sure why she reached for the mug of tea. She took a sip and grimaced; it was sugary almost beyond bearing. A little of the throbbing in her head eased, and Leander was frowning at her. Niccolette took another sip, and swallowed it down. The worst part was that he was not wrong; the drink and food had been a good suggestion. She knew that, with what she had studied, with the life she had lived; it was only that she did not wish herself for a patient.

She reached for a piece of the bread, holding it in one hand. She tore off a corner and nibbled at it, wanting the taste of the tea gone.

Niccolette raised her eyebrows at Leander. She had started a flippant answer; she put it aside. “The mona are capricious,” Niccolette said, something like reverence and something like amusement in her voice, however faint. She ripped off another piece of bread and ate it, slowly, thinking it over. It did not bother her to speak to Leander of such things, not anymore. She supposed it would have, once; she knew better now. She thought him half an idiot, but it was not because he was a passive.

“The same spell on different occasions may affect the caster differently,” Niccolette said. She set the bread down and took another sip of tea, and grimaced faintly again. “It depends on their strength, on the whims of the mona, on how they ask the spell of them.”

“I should not have cast at all, tonight. This is the price I pay,” Niccolette shrugged her shoulders, clearly not worried at her own state. “I cannot ask with one hand and begrudge the cost with the other.” Niccolette said simply. She pushed her bloodied hair back off of her forehead again. Even the sight of the eggs seemed to turn her stomach, but she picked up the bread again and tore off another small piece, and ate that too.

[Leander]

33rd Day of Loshis

She was hard work at her best, and that didn’t seem to change when she was unwell. Any more refusals and Leo wondered if he would have to force-feed her the food and drink he had provided. The sweet tea, especially: her face scrunched up when she drank it, and Leo imagined that she liked tea just as black and unsweetened as her soul.

Nevertheless, he managed to convince her to take on some of the provided nourishment, and that was good enough for him. Besides, if she was trying to argue back, it meant that the Niccolette he had come to know was still in there - a good sign to be sure.

Leander wasn’t one for asking other people questions. He preferred to gain information from books rather than appear unknowledgeable in front of others... especially one with such a quick tongue and sharp wit as Niccolette. He was sure there was a cutting answer wanting to come out at his question. He was surprised, therefore, when he received an actual answer to his questions. The passive nodded as she spoke, but found he had more questions from her answers.

The way she spoke of mona was like they truly took on a life of their own, something Leander was failing to fathom.

“But why should you not have cast tonight?” Leo asked, frowning as if he had missed something, “Is that just you saying that with hindsight, or did you know before you cast that you should not have?” It was making little sense to Leo. If she had known, why would she put herself at risk: now he had seen the adverse affects, which still lingered, he was sure this was not even as bad as it could be. And how could she know in advance anyway? Was it just a risk all casters took, hoping for the best outcome but preparing for the worst? Or did they have an inkling of what would happen before they cast?

The woman had not touched the eggs, but was still nibbling on the bread, and it was the best he could ask for. It seemed to be helping too. The galdor still looked exhausted, but her fingers seemed to tremble slightly less, which was better than nothing. When she decided she had had enough, Leo removed the plate and returned it to the kitchen. He even completed the domestics of cleaning up before returning to the living room.

“We still have time if you feel you need longer to recover, but if you are feeling well enough, I would be happy to head over to Hawke now.” He wasn’t sure if he would go as far as to suggest she wash before leaving the house. Her hair and face were caked in blood, and the parts of her that weren’t bloodied were covered in beads of sweat. She looked a sight, to be sure.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Evening, 33 Loshis, 2719
Sitting Room, the Ibutatu Residence

I am... unsettled,” Niccolette said, quietly, holding the handle of the tea cup. She looked at Leander evenly as she spoke, as if she thought he should have already known the answer; perhaps it was only that she did not wish to speak it aloud. The white column of her throat moved as she spoke; she glanced away from him. She took another sip of the tea, and set the cup down again, going back to the bread; she pinched another piece off and ate it, slowly, working her way through the slice.

“It is best not to come to the mona from a place of weakness,” Niccolette said, quietly. It reminded me of casting on my husband. She knew it; she had known it then. I cannot find any joy in that memory, not tonight; only sadness. But she did not think Leander needed to know that; perhaps he did not need to know any of it, not at all. Was it, then, that Niccolette needed to speak? She did not wish to think of that either.

“I knew better,” Niccolette said with a little grimace. “One can never be sure how the mona will take such a spell. They were merciful, this time.” She finished the slice of bread, and most of the tea too, in time. She did not look at Leander, curled up in the seat of her husband’s chair, resting her face against the place where - once - he had sat. It was not hard to picture him, if she let herself. It was very hard to stop.

Leander took the plate to the kitchen, and returned. Niccolette held awake this time, although not precisely aware; she could not have said what she thought of, in the time he was gone. She did not think she had thought at all, not really; only sat, and held, in the ache of it.

Niccolette nodded when Leander said they should go. “I shall get ready,” she said, quietly. “Wait here.” She did not tell him to stay away from the books, for all some of them were grimoires - Uzoji’s books, of static and physical casting, of airship flight and maintenance. And, too, of Mugrobi history and poetry; of long epics written about men in the desert and women beneath the moonlight.

Niccolette left it behind. She did not need to look to wash her face or brush her hair; for that she was grateful. She scrubbed her face until the water dropped clean from her fingers; her skin ached, but the redness was hers, not the clouded brown of dried blood. She let her skin rest as she brushed her hair out, until the sink was flaked with dried blood. She rinsed it down and kept brushing, until the locks were soft beneath her fingers, or at least soft enough.

Niccolette sat herself at her vanity. She touched her face with her fingertips; she took her brush, and dusted powder over her skin, cool and even, eyes closed. She opened them, then, and looked at herself in the mirror. She sat; she held. She watched herself, steadily, until she could move again - slowly - until she could brush blush along her cheeks for a bit of warmth, until she could find the bright red lip color, until she could trace, slow and carefully, with even strokes, the black around her eyes.

And then Niccolette rose. She straightened the black lace dress, having dabbed at the bloody spots; it was clean enough to go unnoticed, at least. She had always favored dark colors, in the Rose.

Niccolette went back into the study; she laced up her boots with slow, even motions. She rose, then, breathing deep, combing her fingers through her hair. “We shall have to walk to the main road to find a carriage,” she said, evenly, looking at Leander. She arched an eyebrow. “If you are ready?”

[Leander]

33rd Day of Loshis

‘Unsettled’ seemed like the biggest understatement imaginable, in Leo’s eyes. But... ohhhhh, she meant that she had previously been. Leo thought back to the beginning of the night, when Niccolette had drawn up in her horse-drawn carriage and greeted Leo as he entered. She had seemed not herself. Lost, more than a little distant and, dare he say it, even sad. That must be what the woman was referring to. Yes, he could agree with that, though he suspected there was more to it and Niccolette wasn’t quite read to say it aloud, lest she admit it to herself, let alone to Leo.

“You call that merciful?” The passive asked incredulously, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “What you[ve just gone though it anything but-” he bit his lip, refusing to continue his tirade when Niccolette was so clearly drained of energy. There was no point. They just had to finish their task and tomorrow would be a brand new day - hopefully a day without Niccolette in it, Leo thought.

When the woman got up to leave, Leo was instantly at his feet with her, stepping closer with arms half outstretched, just in case he needed to catch her again. Luckily, the food and sugary tea seemed to have done its job: she was much more stable this time. He allowed her to leave the room on her own, and followed her directive to wait for her.

With nothing to do, he circled the room once, twice, three times before coming to stop next to the bookshelves. He ran his hands over the spines of the book without pulling any out. He lived in a bookshop, after all: he had access to more reading materials than Niccolette had to offer, and even if these were new, the galdor probably only held tomes on magic, which were pointless for Leander to peruse. As evidenced tonight, Leander didn’t know the first thing about magic, and he had no intentions to rectify that by perusing her books.

The woman returned a little while after Leander had returned to his seat, and the forger stood again. He arched an eyebrow, “Are you sure you’re ready?” Leo returned, clearly doubting her ability to finish off the task Hawke had set. He had thought about arguing against letting her do this, he was capable of doing it himself. But he also knew Niccolette well enough to know that once she had made a decision, that word was final.

When she inevitable answered in the affirmative, Leander patted his breast pocket to make sure that the identification paper was still nestled safely inside. He made his way out to the front door, opening it and holding it that way for Niccolette to pass through. The passive thought about offering an arm to the woman... and he did just that before his inner monologue talked him out of it. He only wanted to keep her from stumbling or dropping to the ground again.

The pair walked over to the main road, where they halted, and Leander glanced around, waving an arm high in the air to hail a cab. When it stopped, he made to open the door, once again allowing Niccolette to pass into the carriage first, his hand hovering near her as a constant safety net against the hard cobble-stoned ground.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Very Late Evening, 33 Loshis, 2719
Quarter Fords to Hawke's Palace

Niccolette stared evenly at Leander when he asked if she was ready. She did not answer aloud, but turned, and made her way towards the front door. She was not wobbling, at least, or stumbling; if she walked slowly, if she walked carefully, it wasn’t easy to distinguish from her usual stride. She waited on the road outside the Quarter Fords home, her eyes closed for a long moment.

Cloud slid over the sky above, casting shade upon shade; the branches dappled strange patterns already over her face, and with the shuttering of Benea’s light, they softened, casting all of her into shadow. Niccolette opened her eyes at the brush of light once more, and lowered her gaze to Leander, and the arm he had extended.

After a moment, Niccolette’s black-clad arm tucked delicately through his. She leaned a little bit against him as they walked, although only a little. Her breath came more than a little hard, and once she stumbled – once – and caught her shoulder against his, taking a deep breath before she continued.

The main road in Quarter Fords was quieter, this late at night, but there were shops still open, restaurants too, with flickering pools of lamplight on the cobblestones. Carriages rattled past, and one slowed to a stop before them, drawn by two twitchy-earned kensers.

“The Palace,” Niccolette said,. She pressed a coin into the man’s hand, and then a second at the look on his face. “A third, when we arrive.”

“Oes, madam,” The driver said, inclining his head.

Niccolette gripped the doorframe as hard as she could, and climbed into the carriage. Her head lolled slightly on her neck, and she took a deep breath, drawing herself upright against the threadbare cushions. If her hands were shaking in her lap, she did not pay it much mind. Her eyes closed, and she breathed, steadily, in and out, as the wheels jerked and began to rattle over the cobblestone streets.

It was not a long drive, not really; down the main road of Quarter Fords to where it met Lossey, and through the quiet merchant’s neighborhood, well-lit even beneath the generous moonlight. Soon enough, they rattled to a stop.

Niccolette gave the driver the third coin she had requested, and climbed slowly down the steps, standing at the edges of the gate. This time, she would not take Leander’s arm – even if he offered.

It was not difficult for Niccolette to enter Hawke’s Palace, not after so long. It was not to the man’s throne room that they went, but elsewhere. Here, Niccolette managed a slightly faster walk, at least, her boots clicking steadily against the paved ground as she weaved through the crowds with her chin raised, and her field bright through its fullest extent, like a vivid shield in the air around her. As ever, the crowds parted for her, as if the slight galdor took up the full extent of her magical expression.

Niccolette rapped sharply at a door on one of the upper floors, and eased back. The door opened, and a human bowed them in.

Kouri Amasour, a half-Hessean galdor who had worked for Hawke longer than Niccolette had, looked up from behind a table. He set his pen down, his fingers surprisingly free of ink, and rose, bowing. His jacket hung on the chair behind him, but he wore a waistcoat still, and a neatly ruffled cravat.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ibutatu,” Amasour said, rising. He glanced at Leander; something like a smirk flickered over his lips, and he inclined his head gently.

Niccolette watched him. She understood; she folded her arms lightly over her chest, and tilted her head to the side.

There was an awkward beat of silence.

“Mrs. Ibutatu?” Amasour asked, thick eyebrows lifting. His square jaw was dusted with thick, dark stubble.

“Oh,” Niccolette said, coldly. “I did not realize your greetings had finished.” She stared coolly at the other galdor across the room, too distant for either of their fields to meet.

Amasour’s lips pressed together. “Mr. Aguilar,” he said, finally. “I almost didn’t see you, there.” He bowed again. “Good evening to you as well.”

Niccolette did not quite smile, but there was something of it in her eyes. She eased further into the room, and bowed as well. If there was a faint trembling to her, it was gone by the time she rose up. “Good evening, Mr. Amasour.” She turned to Leander, gesturing lightly with one hand. “Mr. Aguilar has the paper.”

“Yes, quite,” Amasour raised his eyebrows, gesturing Leander forward, one hand already extended. “Rather a shame it’s taken so long,” he murmured.