Ana dismissed the notifications as she awoke, a broad smile on her face. More Crystals! Hooray! She felt amazing: warm, weightless, and without a care in the world. She turned to look at Messy, but for some reason she wasn’t there. She must have gotten up first. Though… the room was wrong. The window was on the wrong side, and had simple, undyed curtains instead of Messy’s green ones. And the bed was too big, wide enough to sprawl. It certainly wasn’t Messy’s two-and-a-half foot wide cot, with its enforced cuddling.

  The thoughts came sluggishly, like they didn’t want to get up either. She wasn’t in Messy’s room. Nor in her own room at Petra’s. Where was she then? It was comfortable. There was a sweet smell in the air, of herbs and old wood and incense. Familiar.

  She sat up slowly. The sheet fell off her and she looked down, confused by the sensation of cloth sliding on skin. Huh. She didn’t usually sleep naked. Sorry, Messy. And there were a bunch of pink lines running down her torso that hadn’t been there before. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought, and giggled. She was just like Alice, wasn’t she? Down the rabbit hole! Magic, weird creatures…

  She sat giggling to herself until the sound brought Touanne into the room.

  The Healer smiled with relief. “Oh, thank the gods, you’re awake again. You’ve been sleeping so deeply that you had me scared, what with Jay and all. But don’t worry. There’s no crystals on you anywhere.”

  “Didn’t let ‘em touch me,” Ana declared proudly. Her memory was a little fuzzy about exactly what had happened, but she remembered fighting.

  “And speaking a language I can understand, this time.” Touanne’s face turned serious. A little concerned, maybe? Why would she be worried, though? Everything was fine! “Ana, how are you feeling?”

  “Good!” Ana let the word linger, drawing it out and out to make it clear to her friend — her magic, not-an-elf-but-just-as-great, friend — just how good she felt. “Like a cloud!”

  “No pain?”

  “Nope!”

  “That’s wonderful. Ana, I would like you to sleep a little more. Can you do that for me?”

  “Can I?”

  “Yes, Ana. You can sleep as much as you want.”

  “You’re so nice, Two.” Ana flopped back onto the big, soft pillow behind her and burrowed into the sheets. “I’m glad the crazies didn’t eat you.”

  “Yeah, me too. Thank you.”

  The next time Ana woke up it was to soft singing and a gentle hand stroking her head.

  “Hey, Mess,” she croaked, cracking her eyes open.

  The singing stopped. “Hey, Ana.”

  “Is this going to be our thing? I get hurt, you sing to me while I sleep?”

  “We can do that without you getting hurt.” Messy tried to sound playful, but her voice betrayed her relief. “When Tellak came and told me…” She took a steadying breath. “Well, you’re fine now, I hope. Touanne told me that you were a little out of it before I came. Something about healing you too much.”

  Ana vaguely remembered giggling like an idiot over a children’s story. “Yeah, I feel pretty great, honestly,” she said and sat up, tucking the sheet under her arms. “Like I’ve had a good massage and then slept for twelve hours.”

  “More like fifteen, from what Touanne tells me. It’s late morning.”

  “Oh. That explains why I’m so damn hungry.” As if on command her stomach gurgled, and then she felt another, much more urgent discomfort. “And why I’ve gotta pee so bad. Don’t suppose you brought me some clean clothes?”

  “I did! Here.” Messy took a folded bundle from a small table by the window and handed it over. It was everything Ana needed. Trousers, a tunic, a chestwrap, a new pair of her special underwear, of which she realized she was already wearing a pair — she tried not to reflect over someone else having to deal with that. Also, a pair of moccasins that she didn’t recognize. They were cream leather with little red and green flowers embroidered on them.

  “Oh,” Messy said when Ana held them up curiously. “Tellak mentioned you losing your boots. Those are mine. We’re not quite the same size, so they may be a little loose, but if you just lace them tight they should do for now.”

  “Thanks. They’re, uh… cute.”

  Messy nodded toward the door. “Do you want me to…?”

  “It’s fine. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Ana got out of bed and stretched, then caught Messy not so much ogling her as just staring. “What?”

  “You’ve got some scars,” Messy said, gesturing up and down Ana’s torso. Ana looked down. Pale, slightly raised lines marked her tan skin. Messy blushed and looked away. “I, ah… they’re becoming on you.”

  Ana couldn’t stop her mouth from quirking in a quick smile. It wasn’t exactly news to her that Messy liked fighters, and that apparently extended to scars. Still, as cute and flattering as Messy’s embarrassment was, Ana dressed quickly. The call of nature was only getting stronger.

  “I guess this is Touanne’s bedroom?” Ana said as she laced up the moccasins.

  Messy looked at the big, soft bed wistfully. “Yeah. Nice, isn’t it? One day I’ll have a bed like that…”

  Ana gave her a quick side-hug then, on a whim, perhaps because she felt so good, leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Your bed is perfectly comfy, as long as you’re in it.” She took another look around the room. It was spare, but cozy. ”What’s that?”

  Ana pointed to a small table across from the bed. The table held a small bowl, which sat at the feet of a little statuette of some kind, an androgynous figure holding a swaddled babe in one arm and a sickle in the other hand.

  “Oh, uh, that’s a shrine to the Lifegiver, I’d guess. Makes sense with Mistress Touanne being a Healer and all. I think most dedicated Life-mages show them at least some kind of veneration.”

  “Another god?”

  “Yeah,” Messy laughed. “A big one.”

  Messy had to go back to work after that, but she left with a smile.

  Touanne’s clinic and home, to no surprise, had running water. What did surprise Ana, once she’d asked, was that it had an indoor toilet with plumbing, kind of like a latrine with water constantly running under it. And it had a basin with scented soap next to it, instead of forcing you to walk a hundred feet with questionable hands to wash!

  Ana, who had no more than two weeks ago been on the edge of becoming a militant atheist, gave thanks to whatever gods of hygiene may exist in this world or any other. She’d been slowly coming to accept the bathroom situation, but now that she knew that a somewhat more modern alternative was an option she wondered how long she’d have to delay reaching Ascension, or whatever it was called, to be able to afford a place like this. Not being untouchable for a few extra months or years might be worth it if she could have something like a real bathroom again.

  After that Touanne fed her in a small but well-stocked kitchen. When Ana tried to bring up the subject of payment the Healer wouldn’t even let her finish the sentence.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You saved my life. You took great risks to do so. I don’t know why; I know that you don’t get attached to people the way most do. You could have just run. But you didn’t, and I refuse to take your money when most of your injuries are my fault.”

  Ana looked at her. The set of her shoulders, the determination on her face. She thought about her words. Short, simple, and absolutely certain.

  “All right,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Touanne nodded but didn’t relax even a fraction. “Now, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve put it off, because I didn’t want to rush you but, Ana, the outpost is under siege. Cut off completely.”

  “Shit.”

  “Indeed.”

  “The crazies?”

  “Those are the unidentifiable humans? If so, yes. There’s hundreds of them, and demons among them. The…” Touanne swallowed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. “The farms are surrounded. Some have been breached.”

  “How? How are they here? I thought the Waystone made it impossible for demons like the one we faced to exist nearby.”

  “Not impossible. Painful, perhaps. But the Waystone… something’s wrong. It’s drawing in less ambient mana. That’s part of why I overhealed you so much. I wasn’t paying attention. I drew and shaped as though I had much less mana to work with, and… well, fortunately the only effect of overhealing is a somewhat narcotic effect. Though I must apologize for that. Intoxicating someone without their permission is unacceptable.”

  “Forget about it. Pretty sure you were saving my life when it happened. You’re officially forgiven.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You say there’s something wrong with the Waystone? It’s not drawing mana?”

  “Yes. And the last delivery was slow, and took far too much mana to activate. We don’t know what’s wrong, but the timing—”

  “Jancia?”

  “It could be a coincidence, but… yes. Though how, I have no idea.” Touanne sighed, looking out the window. “We may as well get ready. There’s a mandatory gathering of all Guild members in the square at noon, and Captain Pirta wanted to see you before then.”

  No more than ten minutes later, Ana sat in front of a wide desk made of dark, polished wood, facing the tallest person she had ever seen.

  Drisa had ushered her upstairs when she arrived at the administrative building, pausing only to badger her into updating the local copy of her Summary. Ana had placed her hand on the same metallic blue orb as when she’d first signed up, there had been a flash, and that had been it. Drisa hadn’t even looked at it.

  Now Ana sat in a small, sparsely furnished office on the fourth floor, with a wide window overlooking the square. Across the desk from her was Captain Pirta. Captain Pirta was the first elf Ana had seen — possibly the only one in the outpost, or even the entire splinter. She was also not just the tallest woman, but the tallest person Ana had ever seen. The word “willowy” could have been created just to describe her, though she was more like a poplar, with rich, creamy yellow skin and shoulder length auburn hair. She looked almost stretched, with long, slender everythings and a narrow face, and while it was a little hard to determine with them both seated, Ana estimated that the captain was at least three, possibly nearly four feet taller than herself.

  She was also, as an [Elf Guild Administrator (41)], the highest level person Ana had seen, and with what Ray had told her she wondered how the hell a civilian had reached that level. When she looked more closely, though, there were a lot of things that added up to a simple explanation: Pirta had not always been a civilian. There was something about how she moved and how she held herself that spoke of regular and rigorous training, but more than that it was her eyes. Pirta was constantly sizing her up, and more than that her eyes kept flicking down to her collarbone in a way that experience taught her had nothing to do with her chest, and everything with always being able to react to anything Ana might do.

  Pirta was used to fighting people, and she was the first person here who gave Ana that feeling.

  A notification popped into the corner of Ana’s eye, and she quickly checked and dismissed it.

  She took that as the System agreeing with her, and it somewhat confirmed what Rayni had told her about Skills leveling faster through deliberate use. Ana had never tried to inspect anyone or anything as deliberately as she did just then.

  Pirta quirked a small smile, and when she spoke, her voice was a low, rich alto. “Are you quite satisfied, Miss Cole?”

  The answer was easy: not at all. No one had told Ana why this other captain wanted to talk to her. She’d simply been ushered into the office by a secretary of some sort, and those were the first words Pirta had said to her. But she knew nothing about this woman.

  “I’m sorry, Captain. Was I staring?” Ana said, slipping easily into the lost and anxious character she’d tried when she first met Tor, Falk and the others. It happened entirely by habit; it had always worked wonders with authority figures, and everything about Pirta screamed “authority.” Except that Falk had seen right through her, so his colleague across the desk from Ana probably knew all about her already.

  “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. If it’s not my race, it’s my level. I understand that you’ve had quite a sheltered upbringing?”

  “So they tell me.”

  “And yet you’ve done quite well for yourself. I understand that you were only level 3 when you arrived here, and here you are at level 9 already. That’s quite an accomplishment!”

  The back of Ana’s neck prickled at the look in Pirta’s eyes, but Sense Motive gave her nothing. “Thank you, Captain. I’ve been trying to make a place for myself here. Delving and killing demons seemed the best fit for me, and then we got lucky on my first Delve, so…” She gave a little “What can you do?” of a shrug.

  Pirta nodded. “Miss Cole, I won’t dance around why I asked you here. Two things. I wanted to thank you, both personally and officially on behalf of the outpost and the Bluesky Guild, for saving the life of Miss Touanne. The loss of our most skilled Life mage would have been devastating to the morale of this outpost, not to mention the tragedy of such a promising woman dying so young. And we may soon need to rely on her more than ever, which brings me to the second reason I wanted to see you before the general meeting.”

  The captain leaned forward, like a young tree bending in the wind. “Miss Cole, you are, among other things, a killer. And we may soon have need of killers here.”

  Ana would have bristled at the characterization, but Pirta was so matter of fact and non-judgmental about it that it was hard to get mad about it. She might as well have said that they needed a cook, and she’d heard that Ana knew her way around a kitchen.

  She wasn't wrong, either. Ana had known that she was a killer even before she stabbed a man to death behind an IHOP, and the only thing she felt was a slight panic over the possible legal consequences.

  Ana leaned back in her chair to be able to look the towering elf in the face more comfortably. “So what do you want from me?”

  “The vast majority of the people remaining in this outpost lack the skills or the stomach for combat, and even seasoned Delvers often find it difficult to fight anything that is or has been sapient. I intend to draft anyone with a weapon Skill into a militia, and I want you to help train them. Not in how to wield weapons; we still have seasoned Delvers who can do that. But in how to strike a human target to kill without hesitating. If the gods bless us, this will all be unnecessary. The expedition could return and break the siege tomorrow. But if they don’t… Well. We don’t know if the creatures surrounding us will attack, or if they can breach the palisade should they do so. But if they do, right now, it would be a bloodbath. We simply don't have enough combatants, nor do we have the mages to force the Waystone to cycle, even if it wasn’t acting strangely. There’s no help coming and no escape. We may have to fight.”

  Ana’s gut clenched. “How many? Of the unidentifiable humans, I mean?”

  “Hard to say, but an early estimate puts them in the hundreds. We may or may not be outnumbered, but it doesn't matter. Based on Miss Tellak’s testimony, they fought in a frenzy, with no fear of pain or death. They don’t need to outnumber us to devastate this outpost.”

  Hundreds. The number was sickening, but Ana didn't let it show. Every one of them stolen from Earth, like her and Nic. And without a doubt, the same had been intended for them. Or at least for Nic. The Summoner hadn't seemed interested in Ana at all.

  Pirta was looking at her expectantly. Ana wondered if she'd been projecting her feelings again. “Yeah, that matches what I saw,” she said. “They wanted to get us, no matter what. Like the demons, but without any growths or lesions. Just the crystals.”

  “You understand why we need you, then?”

  “Yeah.” Ana took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and resigning herself. “God dammit, I just wanted to lay low and level.”

  Pirta gave her a soft, sympathetic look. “I just wanted to spend a century or so improving my Skills by building up a peaceful little community in a splinter where it’s always summer, and to never hold a spear again in anger. But the world is not always a kind place. Can I count on you?”

  “It’s not like I can go anywhere, is it? Yeah, you can count on me.”

  “Thank you, Miss Cole,” Pirta said seriously and offered Ana a long, slender hand. Ana clasped it, wrist to wrist, and shook it once.

  “Now what?”

  “Now, it is almost time for the meeting. I will be placing this outpost under martial law, Miss Cole, and conscripting every inhabitant with any experience in combat to form a militia. You and a few others will be made temporary guild officers, with emergency powers to seize property or detain individuals at your discretion — subject to review and possible consequences should we survive this, of course. Don’t abuse them.”

  “I can taste the self-loathing already.” Ana stood. “With your leave, then, Captain Pirta.”

  “I will see you in the square,” Pirta said, nodding. “And again, thank you. For saving Touanne and for cooperating. I’m truly relieved to have someone like you in my outpost at a time like this.”

  Someone like me, Ana thought. Someone who knows how to kill, and who can do it without hesitation or regret.

  She was an asset again. It was a strange feeling, but an old, comfortable one. Mr. Stamper had never made a secret of the fact that he saw her as an asset first, and a ward or even friend second. But Ana had never minded that. It was good to be an asset. As long as she did her job well and kept improving, she would remain an asset, valuable and worth keeping around no matter what emotions or prejudices might be set against her. She may have to show her true self, or most of it, to the outpost in order to do the best job she could protecting them, but so be it. She’d had two pretty good weeks. She’d never expected it to last.

  “You can count on me,” Ana said again and left Pirta’s office.

  Splinter Angel! Not that you should notice the switch-over; the next chapter goes up on Saturday like normal.

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