This was the second time in as many days that I had been lifted up and carried by the back of my collar. I thought it had been two days. It might have only been one.

  I turned my head and tried to catch Devon’s eye as Lamb carried us through the halls. He hung over her shoulder, limp and quiet now. I was held by the back of my shirt, her grip firm enough to keep my feet well clear of the floor. Each step she took sent a faint jolt through my spine as my weight shifted in her grasp. Her grip never loosened.

  I had let him go the first time. I was not willing to repeat that mistake. Whatever consequences followed were preferable to pretending it had been a misunderstanding a second time.

  We passed into a part of the Guild hall I had never seen before. The corridors widened and the stonework changed. Rough stone gave way to polished floors, wide corridors, and curtained alcoves set back from the main path. The air changed as well, carrying the faint, persistent scent of antiseptic herbs and alchemical washes. It was a medical hall, or something close to it. That made sense. They were both healers. This was where new copper ranks would have been treated, trained, and quietly assessed when things went wrong.

  Lamb stopped without warning and lifted me higher; no longer content with the casual dominance she had maintained so far. Her grip tightened, and she raised me until I was level with her eyes. The motion was effortless on her part and unmistakably intentional. She stared at me with open disapproval, her expression hard and unyielding.

  “What is your name, boy?” she asked.

  “Azolo,” I said. “Why?”

  “So, I know who I will who’s name to put into my report to the Adventurers Guild disciplinary committee.”

  “All right,” I said. “Then I would like your full name as well. I will be filing my own report, to the disciplinary committee and to my father at the wall, through the Defenders Guild.”

  Her expression shifted, just slightly. “Your father?”

  “I did not give you my full name,” I said. “Azolo Ouizem. The captain of the Defenders Guild at the Northland fort is my father. He would be interested to know why a representative of the Healers Guild allowed someone to attempt to rob his son twice in less than a day, and why that same representative chose to defend the attempt.”

  She studied me for a long moment, weighing something I could not see, then nodded once. “Very well. Lamb Isandra. Field Lead of the Healers Guild for the Sea of trees. I have met your father many times.”

  She adjusted Devon on her shoulder, shifting his weight as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience. “I will be happy to tell him how his son handled himself while assaulting a healer. You may not understand this yet, but healers occupy a protected position. There are rules that apply to them which go beyond your current understanding. Your assumptions about rank and station do not give you the right to strike someone above you.”

  “Above my station?” I said. “You have no idea who I was, or who I will be.”

  “That is enough, Azolo.”

  Greta’s voice cut in from behind us, sharp and final. “Do not say another word.”

  She looked directly at Lamb. “Let him go. Now. If you push this further, Osan will be involved, and neither of us wants that.”

  Lamb stiffened, her jaw setting. “I will handle my trainee. You handle yours.”

  Greta did not blink. “Get him out of my sight.”

  Lamb released me. My boots hit the floor with a solid thud, the impact sending a brief shock up my legs as blood rushed back into them.

  Greta turned to me, her expression tight with frustration rather than anger. “I thought we discussed your emotions.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “We did,” I said. “Then he tried to rob me again.”

  “Your father is not here, Azolo,” Greta stated.

  “I know,”

  I knew exactly what I was doing. I was spending my father’s name as leverage to end the situation quickly, using it even though I did not truly know what a captain’s name from another guild was worth. It was selfish, and I was aware of that even as I did it, but I did not want to argue or negotiate. I wanted it finished. I was fairly certain my father would be furious about the situation itself and just as certain that he would tell me I had done the right thing anyway. Lamb had defended a criminal because he was useful to her institution.

  She might have been correct by her rules.

  I did not care.

  Lamb took Devon and walked away toward the far side of the hall, disappearing into the clean, curtained lanes of the medical wing without looking back. Greta remained with me. Beyond us, a glass observation wall separated the corridor from a large chamber where other trainees lay on narrow beds beneath thin sheets. They looked like they were sleeping. Sweat slicked their skin. A pale ooze clung to ribs and collars where cloth had shifted, as if their bodies were leaking the effort of becoming something else.

  Some chests rose, slow and uneven, and the movement fooled the eye. It was the body reacting. Cells changing. The core’s work continuing in meat that had already crossed the line. They had gone through core insertion, and the process killed them for a while, even though the room read as quiet rest to anyone who did not know better.

  No one had told people that part, at least as far as I understood. None of the gods had stood up and made an announcement. I might not be the only mortal who understood it, it also felt like something that could not be said out loud.

  I understood why. If everyone heard the truth in plain words, fear would spread fast. People would start calling it murder dressed up as advancement. They would look at anyone walking the martial path the way towns used to look at the necromancers of ancient times, with revulsion and suspicion, even though I no longer knew how this age treated necromancy it was an apt comparison.

  I kept my eyes on the chamber and kept my mouth shut.

  Greta stepped up beside me after a moment. She did not look at the chamber at first. She looked at me.

  “Emotions getting the better of you?” she asked.

  I nodded once.

  “What happened?” She asked with a level of interest that spoke to her nature.

  “He tried to break into my chest,” I said. “I let it go. Then I dealt with Randall. He’s less likely to be an ass now, at least to Meka. His fear was mana-driven. Once he understood that, it lost its grip on him.”

  Greta tilted her head. “That’s good. Maybe. He’s still a prick.”

  “Less so,” I said.

  “We’ll see.” She said sceptically.

  I exhaled slowly. “After that, I finally passed out. And the one Lamb carried off… Devon. He tried to steal my staff while I was sleeping.”

  Great’s eyes flicked briefly toward the far end of the hall. “Your staff?”

  “Yes,” I said. “The one Myrda and I worked on. The most complicated enchantment I’ve managed so far, mostly because I needed something that could make up for what I lack right now. He tried to take it. Again.”

  “So, you woke up angry.” She asked more out of curiosity than accusation.

  “I woke up to him trying to steal from me again,” I said. “So, I hit him until Lamb pulled me off.”

  Greta winced slightly. “So, you hit him.”

  “I did,” I said. “He deserved it.”

  She considered that, then nodded. “Healers are a protected class. You know that.”

  “I know that now,” I said. “But I would have hit him even if I had known before all of this. You can be a healer and still deserve to get beaten when you try to rob someone.”

  Greta did not argue. Her just nodded once and stayed beside me, both of us watching the chamber in silence.

  “Where is Meka?” I asked, not seeing her with Lamb.

  Greta glanced down the hall before answering. “She’s outside. Training with Brandon, the sub-instructor for the Healers Guild, along with the rest of their trainees.”

  She paused, then added, “It’s best not to let them know you’re connected to her.”

  “Why?” I asked turning to look up at her.

  “There are going to be consequences from this,” Greta said plainly. “Even if Devon deserved what he got, and no one here is pretending otherwise, the Healers Guild is a tight-knit community. They protect their own, even when their own causes them more trouble than help. Antagonizing them further will only make things worse.”

  She hesitated, then continued, “It also means you likely won’t be allowed to visit Rowan for the time being. They’re in charge of her care, and they won’t grant special access, even if she asks for it.”

  I nodded, and we lapsed into silence once again.

  The knowledge sat poorly with me. Being punished for defending my own property was aggravating enough, but knowing that the consequences would reach past me made it worse. They would not simply take it out on me. They would use it to keep me away from Rowan, to cut off the possibility of something that had not even been allowed to begin.

  I had wanted the chance to help her. Losing that chance, before it had properly existed, settled like grit in my thoughts as I watched Winnie and the others beyond the glass, their bodies caught in the quiet, terrible process of becoming stronger.