Frenzied shouts and acrid smoke filled the air. It felt as if each streetcorner marked its own unique take on the violence and depravity that had overcome the panicked city. Gaba’ké ducked under a destroyed awning as a pair of looters on his right stepped through the wide hole where a glass display-window once stood to welcome merchants and customers. Now the ravaged storefront was a burnt shell of itself, the merchandise stolen. Kuta ignored the looters. She ignored most of the panic and violence on the streets, her single focus on finding and killing Janos Tydana.

Ahead, Kuta raced single-mindedly. Gaba’ké did his best to simply keep her in sight. Not that he couldn’t find her through other means, even if they separated. That was the thing about most Aginjigaade, hiding from one another was like trying to hide a tree in an empty field. Not impossible, yet neither a simple task. It hadn’t taken long to find Janos. He wasn’t hiding. Kuta had searched for his agindan and found it, high atop the city in Patzau Palace. Right in the heart of Caso.

Gaba’ké collided with a man carrying a travel bag. Both men and the stranger’s bag tumbled onto the cobbled street. He reached out, attempting to catch himself with his palms. The problem was that he only had one left. Gaba’ké’s stump of a wrist hit the cobbled ground hard and pair tore through him. He didn’t remember screaming. But by the way other people looked at him, it suggested he had.

He lay there, wincing. An unfamiliar face stood above his, speaking quickly in that Casoyan tongue he didn’t understand. With the stranger’s help, Gaba’ké moved to stand. He had scraped his cheek and knees in the fall. But that was inconsequential compared to the sharp throbbing that came from the reopened wound where his hand had once been. Blood soaked the bandages in mere moments. To his credit, the stranger Gaba’ké had collided with, led him out of the middle of the street. He was attentive, but unhelpful. Gaba’ké thanked the man in Tralang, while the man repeated the same apologetic phrase again and again before disappearing into the crowd with his bag.

Gaba’ké sat in a daze. His mind, once free from the overwhelming pain, slipped immediately back to his worries: to Kuta. A frantic worry gnawed at him from the inside. He knew her resolve. He could see the rage and single-minded determination. It was a fire he understood, one he knew well enough to fear. Now he might not catch her at all. Not in time to stop her, to dissuade her, to protect her. He feared the very real possibility she ran straight into fight she wasn’t ready for a failed. But just as concerning was the fear of what might happen should she succeed.

He looked up and she was kneeling in front of him. “Kuta” he said, surprised by her appearance.

“What happened?” Kuta asked, staring down at the blood welling from his stump and the fresh scrape across the older man’s cheek.

“I fell” he said plainly. “You came back.”

“Why are you following me?” she demanded. There was a look in her eye that Gaba’ké couldn’t pinpoint. It was as if she were angry, or sad, or hurt but none quite matched the complex expression on her face. Kuta reached down and helped him to his feet.

“I thought you might need my help” Gaba’ké said, standing straight. His arms felt weak. There would be dark bruises on his skin by the morrow. Kuta remained silent. Gaba’ké quietly added, “I wanted to try to stop you from going.”

She raised her voice, the anger bubbling up to the surface. “To stop me?” Kuta scolded. “You don’t understand anything!” she snapped. “He murdered her! He took her! I was fifteen!”

Gaba’ké’s voice faltered, unable to articulate his own fears. “Revenge takes more than it gives, Kuta,” he pleaded. “You think I don’t understand, but I do. You can’t see it now, but it will consume you.”

“You think you understand but you don’t!” Kuta repeated, tears welling in her eyes, “You don’t understand what they’ve done to us.”

“Then help me understand!” Gaba’ké pleaded.

“You know how difficult it is” Kuta said. “Growing up as an Aginjigaade is dangerous enough, but the Casoyans have been killing us off for decades. My people. Our Aginjigaade. They send their own, people like Janos, across the island to pull the weeds. They make sure that we can never become a threat. They’ve been doing it for generations, Gaba’ké.”

“Who was she?” He asked softly. “The one they took from you? Your sister? Your mother?”

Kuta frowned. “Her name was Hiri. She wasn’t my mother…” she spoke slowly. Gaba’ké listened, knowing not to interrupt. “But she raised me. She was wise and kind. She was my teacher, my mentor. When I started showing signs of the curse, Hiri appeared and took me away from Caso and across the mountains to Cabiya in the east. She taught me how to protect myself, especially from myself, and how to understand the world that only we could see. And then…” she trailed off.

“…he murdered her” Gaba’ké finished.

Kuta nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help her; to protect her. I could have helped her. I should have been there…”

“You’re not being fair to yourself” Gaba’ké soothed. “You can’t live your life carrying the burden of what might have been. It’s an untenable path.”

“What do you know?” Kuta sobbed. “How can you say that?”

“Because I’ve been that man” Gaba’ké replied calmly. “I see my own failures reflected back at me everywhere I go. I’ve spent most of my older years trying to protect others from the mistakes I made. It’s why I don’t think you should face Janos. But, it’s also why I won’t stop you. If you understand the cost and think doing so is righteous, I’ll trust you and be there right by your side. For you and for Elvi. And for all the other people he’s hurt. But only if you think its right.”

Kuta sniffled and wiped the tears away from her eyes. “You would fight him? Along side me?”

He nodded. “I would.”

“But you don’t even really know me.”

“That’s true” Gaba’ké admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I think helping you is the right thing to do. The weight of the world can never be carried on one back alone.”

Kuta stewed on those words. People ran past in panic. Eventually, she found the courage to ask the question she had been pondering. “What did you mean when you said we’re that man?”

Gaba’ké sighed and smiled bitterly. “Like you, I couldn’t protect somebody dear to me,” Gaba’ké admitted, his voice small. “I believed that having power meant the same as being invincible. And when that belief was proven wrong… in my grief, I made impulsive decisions. Decisions that made things worse, rather than better. And then I doubled down on those decisions. I lost my grasp on what little remained, the things that mattered. I found myself an old man before I found any kind of healing. Grief, anger, vengeance… they feel like fuel but left to burn too hot, they leave you empty.”

“We’re not the same” Kuta grimaced.

“I never said we were the same,” Gaba’ké said defensively. “Only that I’ve felt similar pains and sought similar vendettas. Anger consumed me, and it took a long time to understand that it was just a symptom of the powerlessness I felt. If I had a second chance and knew what I know now, I wouldn’t walk that path. I don’t wish for you—or Ohacha—or anyone to walk that path. It is the path of self-destruction.”

“Then what changed?” Kuta asked, her eyes pleading. “How did you find healing? How did you rebuild after everything was taken from you? How do you choose between two impossibilities?”

“The hard truth is that I can’t answer that” Gaba’ké said with a bitter sigh. “For me, it was time. But for you, or someone else, another path may be offered. I ran away from my problems. I fled. I ended up in Gaag and worked for Ohacha’s grandfather. He accepted me into his home, knowing I was a broken man. And he never tried to fix me, but he treated me with the dignity and respect I had lost for myself. And even after all that, it took decades. Decades for me to forgive myself and lift the sorrow.”

Kuta stewed in the silence that followed. “Would you be disappointed in me if I said I still needed to face him?”

Gaba’ké chuckled ruefully. “No” he answered. “All I need to hear from you is that you think facing Janos is both right, and wise. If you can do that, I’ll follow you in there and guard your back myself.”

Kuta thought about it and then nodded in affirmation. “I can’t say with certainty that it’s wise, but I believe it is the right action to take.” She pulled him back to his feet.

Gaba’ké dusted himself off. He fixed his beard and clothes then said, “Lead the way.”

The grand façade of the Patzau Palace was remarkably untouched in the panic and chaos. The doors to the palace, wide enough to invite large wagons and great beasts, remained closed. Those fleeing the rampage and riots to the south seemed to avoid the large building in their flight north across the canal. The palace, usually adorned with ceremonial guards and soldiers felt naked without their presence. Something was amiss. Kuta and Gaba’ké approached the grand domed building without any trouble. They climbed the steady steps up to the entrance and approached the smaller reinforced doors reserved for foot traffic.

Gaba’ké felt the activation of Kuta’s sorcery. So close, he could feel her willpower focused on the spirits around them. The barred door opened for them as if recognizing her right to enter. He expected soldiers on the other side. He was wrong about which side they would belong to. Six men, each armed with spears and shields, jolted alert and pointed the weapons in their direction. They wore no guild armour or crests. Instead, they were covered in war paint and their shields and spears were adorned with mountain motifs.

The rebels have already taken the palace, Gaba’ké comprehended. I underestimated them. The Casoyans have underestimated them. Then why is Janos here of all places?

Kuta stepped forward and spoke directly to the six men. She spoke with confidence. She spoke as an equal. They listened. Five of the six looked to the last man, and then back at Kuta. He felt their eyes looking him over, but lowered their weapons as Kuta continued onward. Gaba’ké followed behind as promised. The large wooden door closed behind them with a heavy creak. It clicked as the metallic bolt once again slipped into place.

The stood in a narrow foyer. Doors lined the walls, most of which were barred and closed. Through the foyer, the room expanded into a grand hall with humungous square columns that held up a magnificent barrel-vaulted ceiling. Along the sides walls and between the columns, portals led to unseen rooms and offices. Balconies between the pillars peered down into the grand space. At the end of the hall, a great archway led to a central atrium. From there, the building mirrored itself along the other wings.

Kuta led Gaba’ké confidently towards the central atrium. As they passed through the large archway, the size of the room shrank. The central atrium was not open to the upper levels like the larger hallways. Instead, a pair of helixing staircases descended from above.

Gaba’ké frowned. He could sense the spirit of the man high above them. It felt like Janos, yet his being here felt wrong. Perhaps he has hidden himself from the rebels. Or perhaps he has barred himself behind a door. Kuta must have shared his feelings, for she too looked troubled as they ascended. Rebel soldiers let them pass as they climbed. He could only wonder what influence Kuta had used to enter unimpeded. As they crested the long staircase, they stopped just outside an ornate door.

“This is the Patzau’s Council Chambers” Kuta said nervously. She hesitated at the door. Voices echoed from inside, angry and loud. “He’s in there.”

Gaba’ké held his breath. No guards at the door. No signs of struggle at all. Perhaps the rebels had captured him? “I’m right here with you” Gaba’ké said.

Kuta pushed open the door and they walked inside together.

Gaba’ké surveyed the strange scene before him. The council chamber was a large oblong room with tall narrow windows. The room swept dramatically upward into a great vaulted ceiling, from which hung a large chandelier adorned with soft glowing illum stones. In the center of the room, an ornate circular table was ringed with eight equidistant wooden chairs. Janos stood on the far side of the room. At his feet cowered an unfamiliar man. The stranger was mountain-born and wore a sleek looking military uniform that might have suggested power had he been standing and in tact. Fresh bruises and blood smeared across his face subtracted from the visage. He looked as if he had taken a beating. A glance down at Janos’ knuckled confirmed the theory.

Opposite Janos stood two men with their backs to the door. The first was a monster of a man. Clad in armour, he was massive. The blood staining his clothes and skin emphasized his severity. He looked more butcher than soldier. The war axe in his hand showed signs of extensive use. At the butcher’s feet was a plump man whom the butcher held by a lavish shirt-collar. He was somebody of wealth and power, but it was only as the plump man turned to face them that Gaba’ké recognized him as one of the eight Patzau. It was Adagizhi, of the Resources Guild. There was terror in the soft man’s eyes. The butcher was shouting at Janos, though Gaba’ké didn’t the words.

They had interrupted what was, evidently, a stand-off. Janos held the butcher’s man, and the butcher held Patzau Adagizhi. All turned as Kuta and Gaba’ké entered the room. Gaba’ké expanded his Agindan sense like a bubble, outwards to brush against Janos’ agindan. Kuta’s presence joined his, unseen and unfelt to all but the three Aginjigaade. Collectively, they filled the room with their agindans. Their spirits pressed up against Janos’ like fighter’s testing their reach, or rams squaring their horns. Janos held his own against their combined probing strength. They could feel them impressions of one another through their spirits. Kuta’s was steadfast in its resolve. She embodied determination. He could also feel Janos’ spirit. There was desire there. Hunger perhaps.

All of this happened in a mere instance. As far as the other two strangers in the room were aware, nothing had happened. And yet everything was laid bare all at once. Patzau Adagizhi’s face lit up. He looked pitiful and tears came as he begged to Kuta. A harsh yank from the butcher silenced him, but he too turned to face the newcomers.

The butcher’s face lit up at their arrival. He seemed happy to see them. Gaba’ké stared back at the man, a deep and cold feeling blossoming in the pit of his stomach. The man was covered in blood, burns, and blisters. Something in Gaba’ké’s heart warned him that something was amiss. Perhaps it was the strange look that crossed Janos’ face far across the room, as if he had hoped and planned for this very occurrence. Perhaps it was the uneasy feeling that Gaba’ké knew this man, the butcher, with his pocked face and hawk-like nose.

Uncertainty faded like mist in the sun. Gaba’ké recognized the butcher. This was the man that had been scoping Yohati’s estate. This was the man that had tried to kill him in the street the day Aramuk was murdered. This was a man who had tried to kill Ohacha. The thirst for vengeance surged through him. He yearned for justice. For retribution. It was visceral and Gaba’ké, already primed for violence, acted on instinct. He reached in and drew power.

Kuta entered the room with Gaba’ké at her side and froze. Janos stood on the far side of the room with Viiran at his feet, bloodied and bruised. More shocking was that Yoharum stood across from him, as if an equal. In her cousin’s study hands was Patzau Adagizhi. He was in poor shape. Yoharum was shouting at Janos. “If you kill him” he threatened, “I’ll kill Adagizhi and then you next! My revenge will be swifter than a summer storm! Your deaths will serve as payment for countless years of injustice…”

In the same moment, Gaba’ké’s consciousness slammed outwards and into Janos’. Kuta reacted instinctively and felt her own walls come up, ready to protect her. She pushed alongside him and felt her spirit match the two titanic presences that filled the small room. From Janos, Kuta sensed bloodlust. From Gaba’ké, a powerful desire to shield and protect.

Patzau Adagizhi spotted her first and whimpered. Yoharum yanked the beaten man forcefully by the throat, silencing him. But seeing Adagizhi’s shift in attention, he too turned to face them. There was a dangerous look on his face. It was a look Kuta had never seen on him, and for the first time she saw him the way her uncle, Yoharum’s father, saw him. His teeth were snarled like a beast’s. The blood and burn marks across his body made him appear almost inhuman. He was frightening. Even to her, who knew him like a brother. His visage stoked fear. It was the anger on his face, and the hatred in his eyes. He turned with rage on his face, and then they locked eyes. His anger dulled. A spark of something else appeared in its place. His face lit up, recognizing her. She smiled softly, knowing he was okay, but it wasn’t enough to fully dispel the terror he had awakened. She feared him and was unable to draw closer.

Despite those feelings, when Yoharum looked back at her, she saw in him the same boy she had known growing up. Even without an agindan spirit, Kuta could sense his inner being. There was a deeper bond between them, one of kinship. Spirits connected. Family. Somewhere in there, he was the same kid that had eagerly brought her along to catch frogs and chase wild hens. He was the same boy who led her out of the house with an uplifting smile when her mother closed the door to hide her tears. It would be that brief look on his face, the one devoid of the anger and hatred that would stick with her in the years that followed. It would also be the last one she had.

A blur sped past her with sickening speed. It left only a headless corpse towering above a blood-splattered Patzau Adagizhi.

A frightening crash sounded as whatever it was that had past her exploded noisily against the wall. Kuta blinked and the world changed. Yoharum was dead. Dust and debris exploded outwards and then the room went still. She stared uncomprehending. Adagizhi whimpered. He had wet himself at some point but Kuta hardly noticed. Yoharum’s blood was splattered across his face and his fine clothes. Yoharum’s headless figure stood there for what felt an impossible amount of time. Then it slumping over backwards onto the polished tiles with a heavy thud. Even Janos and Viiran looked shocked.

“Oh! Thank you!” Patzau Adagizhi whimpered into the silent room. He crawled forward on his hands and knees to where Kuta stood frozen. “Thank you both” he added, taking her hand while on his knees. “If you two hadn’t come… that brute would have killed me. Thank you, thank you!” Kuta looked down at Patzau Adagizhi with disgust. She pulled her hand out of his clammy grasp. He continued on, ignorant of her feelings. “I knew you were one of the good ones, Kuta. Janos!” Adagizhi hollered, hoisting himself up onto his feet, “Janos, kill that mongrel you’ve got there and let’s get out of here. I’ll reward the three of you handsomely for this. Janos!”

Janos didn’t move. He held Viiran tight in his grasp, but he didn’t come at Adagizhi’s call.

Kuta blinked. Later, she would recognize that it was the shock of the moment. She had too many thoughts flowing too fast to comprehend; like a cupping a hand into a river and hoping to draw out a pool. She didn’t even remember killing Adagizhi. All she remembered was the overwhelming grief and how thoroughly it mixed with her anger and hurt. And in all of those feelings, Adagizhi had reminded her at exactly the wrong moment why she loathed the man. He had betrayed her twice already. He had betrayed Minoc. He was a fervent enemy opposed to everything that made Kuta who she was. But worse than all of that, he was shameless. She knew he would go on pretending as if he had never said all those terrible things.

In the end, the Patzau signet on his finger was the death of him. It was made of gold and bent easily to her will. Patzau Adagizhi still wore the look of surprized triumph on his face as he dropped to the floor dead next to Yoharum’s corpse. The happiness on his face troubled her. She regretted letting him die with a smile. It was better than he deserved.

Kuta turned on Gaba’ké next. His spirit had changed. His desire to shield and protect was gone. In its place was an all-consuming rage that she would never have imagined from the man. In Janos, she thought she had sensed bloodlust. She was wrong. This was bloodlust in its purest form. The old Aginjigaade changed his focus to Janos, who remained across the room. Kuta stared at him with her own hurt and rage. She drew forth power but stayed her hand, unready or perhaps unwilling to turn on him at this moment. He kept his attention solely on Janos on the other side of the room.

How do I choose between two evils. The one killed my master. The other my cousin.

Gaba’ké sensed her grief. “After we face Janos” he said, not meeting her eyes, “you and I can resolve this. I promise I won’t resist. I didn’t know you knew him.” Gaba’ké’s words were a plea. “You can take your anger out on me once this is over, but not now. Not when he is here.”

Kuta thought about killing him on the spot. He wore a silver necklace. The buttons on his coat were made of pewter. She considered channeling her power and skewering him the way she had Adagizhi. He had sworn to help her. Instead, he had murdered Yoharum. There was a desperate need to take her revenge. Every fiber of her being screamed for it, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I didn’t know you knew him” Gaba’ké repeated. “Not until I’d done it. And I’d felt that part of your spirit die with him… He killed Aramuk. He tried to kill me. And Ohacha. He killed my oldest friend. I’m so sorry.”

“He was my cousin” Kuta admitted. She couldn’t tell if her words came out angry or despondent.

“I am so sorry” Gaba’ké said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I acted impulsively.”

“I grew up with him… and his sister” Kuta stammered. “Before I left for Cabiya to train with Hiri.” Breath didn’t seem to come. Emptiness formed in the pit of her stomach.

“You were close, then…” Gaba’ké said cautiously. “I could feel it.”

The silence stretched, though Kuta hadn’t any perception of it. Eventually she said, “Once… We were close once.”

“Kuta” Gaba’ké said. He said it as if he had repeated her name a few times. Perhaps he had. She looked up at him, her mind glossy.

“We made different choices…” Kuta continued, “we had different choices made for us.” Gaba’ké nodded, still locked on Janos who seemed to be enjoying this strange turn of events. Kuta squeezed her eyes shut and willed the world to move on without her. It didn’t.

Janos spoke from across the large room. “Gaba’ké of Ayaan. I never thought to expect you here of all places and times. Where is your little princeling? Not gotten himself killed, I hope. Shouldn’t you be at his side like the loyal dog you appear to be?”

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing about Yohati” Gaba’ké replied.

Janos’ face remained emplaced and his voice cold, “Yohati and I have a mutually beneficial partnership. We both get what we want.”

“That’s precisely what all loyal dogs think,” Gaba’ké goaded.

Janos scowled. “It’s the other way around. Yohati is the tool I use to get what I want!” he snapped. “These are my plans now fruiting and I will be the one to come out on top.”

“Unless I kill you today” Kuta said emotionlessly.

Janos cocked his head in interest. Suddenly he was directly in front of her face and his close proximity startled her. “You sound mighty confident child.” Janos’s voice seemed to echo around the large room. It felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, icy and cold. “How did you expect to barter for your dear Viiran’s life now that you’ve killed Adagizhi? It’s hard to have a rebellion without your precious leader.”

“It’s just an illusion” Gaba’ké’s said reassuringly.

Kuta heard his voice and focused only on Gaba’ké, ignoring the uncomfortable presence that she knew wasn’t really there. “I’ve not come here for Viiran” Kuta answered. “I’m not with the rebellion. You can threaten him all you like. It won’t save you.”

Janos’ illusion dissipated and he was once again opposite the large stone table on the other side of the room. “Oh?” he said, taunting. “Not with the rebellion? No love for your own people? I have your blessing to kill him then?” he asked, gesturing to a desperate looking Viiran at his feet.

“Viiran is already dead” Gaba’ké announced. “He was dead before we ever entered the room.”

Janos’ wicked smile widened. “Oh, thank goodness” he said, letting the illusion drop. His hands were smeared with blood. “You know, I killed the poor man right in front of Yoharum and he couldn’t even tell I’d done it. Remarkable, how invisible the world is to those too blind to see.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Kuta demanded.

“Fair enough” Janos said with a shrug, “I suppose then, based on what has transpired, that you came here to murder poor old Patzau Adagizhi in retribution for trying to have you branded as a traitor. It’s a shame about what just happened with your cousin. Although, it is strange that you never mentioned to your friend that you knew your cousin was the one who killed Prince Aramuk and stole their fortune. That’s a cruel secret to keep from a friend, don’t you think?”

Gaba’ké frowned and cast a quick glance in Kuta’s direction. Kuta opened her mouth to protest but couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“Is that true?” Gaba’ké asked. She could tell by the look on his face that he knew the answer.

It was true. She hadn’t told him. In protecting Yoharum, she had betrayed Gaba’ké’s friendship. And in leaving that truth unspoken, Yoharum was dead. Regret filled her. What if there had been a way? Had I trusted him, would Yoharum still be alive? Is his death my fault? I could have trusted him. He’s always been kind, hasn’t he? But then she remembered the swift ferocity of Yoharum’s death and questions that thought.

“Of course, its true” Janos taunted. “Kuta here is quite the little secret keeper. She’s been privy to all kinds of information she hasn’t deemed worth sharing with those who need it most. Isn’t that right, Kuta?”

Kuta met Gaba’ké’s disappointed gaze and spoke plainly, “Yes, its true. I knew Yoharum was one of the men who tried to kill you, who killed your prince. I found out after it had happened.”

“You didn’t know before hand?” Gaba’ké asked.

Kuta shook her head. “No. I learned only after. After the Casoyans tried to kill him.”

Gaba’ké stared back with an unreadable look. His lack of expression made her feel worse, somehow. “Thank you for being honest with me” Gaba’ké said. He turned his gaze back on Janos, who looked delighted with himself. “Now, before I decide where I place my loyalties, I have two questions for you, Janos. Promise you’ll answer them”

“Why?”

“Because, if I like your answers I won’t try to kill you.”

“Go on then” Janos said.

“Why do you hide your second affinity?”

Janos seemed taken-aback. “I don’t know–”

“Don’t lie to us. I was there when you killed Elvi.” Gaba’ké said. “In addition to your illusions, you control an ice affinity.”

Janos’ brows furrowed. “You were there? I doubt that. I would have sensed you.”

“I was there,” Gaba’ké repeated, “and there are many things that you do not know. How else could I know you killed her or that you have that second affinity?”

The Casoyan Aginjigaade seemed to chew on those words for a moment. Instead of answering, he asked, “Was that before or after you lost your hand?”

“After. You’re avoiding my question.”

“I hide it for a strategic advantage in situations like these…” Janos answered. “Now, I’d like to know how the Stone Aginjigaade himself lost a hand?”

“You promised two answers,” Gaba’ké replied. “For my second question, I like to understand how you came to learn that Kuta’s cousin was one of the conspirators hired to kill Aramuk and Ohacha?” Janos mouth shut tight. The silence that followed was remarkably informative.

Kuta’s eyes widened as she made the connection, “You knew!” she shouted. “You knew about the plot!” She blinked rapidly, her mind racing. “You were the one who sent Burm to kill Yoharum’s crew after the assassination. You were the one working with the Careyago Ambassador. You used Burm to clean up the evidence.”

Gaba’ké began putting the pieces together himself. “And the dog told us who his master was. Yohati knew too. He knew there would be assassins waiting for us. He wanted the arrests in Mudtown. He too was working with the Careyago ambassador. You… You used your illusions to hide those assassins in the shadows the day of Aramuk’s death. You tried to kill us. To kill me.”

“You were more resilient than I expected” Janos admitted. “I altered you senses and then that weakling wax witch waved her agindan at you and you swatted her away like a hovering insect. Then, you survived the hired killers and I knew right then and there that you were the prize I have been waiting for. You are what I get out of all of this. Both of you are my prizes. Best of all, you came to me willingly.”

“I don’t understand” Kuta muttered. “You want to fight us? You want to determine which of us is the strongest Aginjigaade?”

It was Gaba’ké who answered. “No” he replied flatly. “I understand now. He wants to add our power to his own.”

Janos smiled a cold smile. It sent shivers down Kuta’s back.  “He can do that?” she asked. “Is that possible?”

“There is one way” Gaba’ké said. “He’d need a third affinity. Am I right, Janos?”

A slow clap echoed through the expansive chamber. Janos held his gaze steady and answered, “Colour me impressed, Gaba’ké. People always speak highly of Ayaani Aginjigaade but I must admit, I am enthralled with the depth of your knowledge. What other great secrets did they teach you? How did you hide yourself from me?”

“I wish you could have studied there,” Gaba’ké remarked, “you’d never have become like this.”

“I still don’t understand” Kuta said anxiously.

“Janos has a third affinity,” Gaba’ké said simply, “not just two. On top of his light and ice affinities, he’s a siphon…. A spirit sucker.”

“A siphon?” Kuta asked.

“It’s one of two very rare abilities” Gaba’ké explained. “Linked to spirits of vitality and spirits of decay: Amplification and Siphoning. Amplifiers can boost an Aginjigaade’s power. Siphons can steal power from other Aginjigaade to make themselves stronger, though I’ve never heard of the effects being permanent.”

“That’s because an Aginjigaade who’s power has been siphoned regains their siphoned power over time. The cup refills” Janos explained. “But… a dead Aginjigaade…”

“Then with Hiri…” Kuta trailed off.

“Yes,” Gaba’ké said, “and with Elvi too. And likely many more before them.”

“It was my idea to cull Aginjigaade from your people. To this day, Yohati remains none the wiser to my true intentions. And, Aginjigaade are known to disappear from time to time in Caso” he boasted. “There are many wealthy benefactors from across the world. Leaving a patron is not unheard of.” He smiled impishly. “But I wouldn’t worry about any of that now. You should worry about me!”

Janos’ consciousness, still pressed against theirs, exploded outwards. It felt as if the weight of the sky pressed down on Gaba’ké’s mind and yet his first instinct was to protect Kuta from Janos’s sudden and powerful attack. He rushed to her with his physical body and put himself between Janos’ overwhelming strength and Kuta’s still blossoming power. The pressure against his mind was a degree of agindan power Gaba’ké could barely fathom and he felt, for the first time in a long time, remarkably insignificant. It was everything Janos could muster and it took red-faced strain to keep the Casoyan from crushing them both right then and there.

Shielded from most of the onslaught, Kuta recovered and channeled power. The metal pins she kept in her hair and sleeves shot out towards Janos like invisible missiles. They struck the place where Janos stood and yet he didn’t react to their deadly touch.

“He’s… not… there.” Gaba’ké strained to get out the words, fearful that any escape of breath might collapse his strength to Janos’ conscious battering.

The agindan onslaught ended as quick as it had come and Gaba’ké found himself wheezing for breath despite his instinct to remain vigilant. He fought against his own body’s convulsive urge to recover, knowing Janos was already moving for his next attack. Ignoring exhaustion, Gaba’ké pushed his consciousness outwards, searching for the right spirit. Power, his power, spread out and overwhelmed the numerous stone spirits imbued in the polished stone floors, table, and walls until he found the one he was looking for. He channeled. Gaba’ké felt what the stones felt, as if they were an extension of his skin. The wave of vibrations expanded outwards rapidly, a hurried heartbeat spent on feeling each polished stone tile. One by one, Gaba’ké felt for Janos, the real Janos. Not the one on the other side of the room that had ignored Kuta’s attack. The real one, who stepped with real weight that could be felt if not seen. The one just a few short paces from where Gaba’ké and Kuta sheltered.

Invisible, but not undetectable, Gaba’ké mused. I’ll have only an instant before he’s in reach. He released the spirit, knowing it would once again render Janos invisible to him, but confident he would have the time to react. He searched for the same spirit he had used against Yoharum.

But Gaba’ké had gravely misjudged Janos’s plan when he’d sensed him drawing near. He’s out of reach, he had assured himself. He had miscalculated. Janos materialized before him in a terrifying flash. He was out of reach for a man attacking with sword or bare hand. Janos had neither. Instead, a long crystalline spear of ice formed in his hands and grew outwards towards him. Gaba’ké found the spirit. But at the same moment, Janos thrust the spear of ice forward towards. Gaba’ké’s reacted instinctually, switching spirits to harden his skin against the blow aimed at his exposed chest. But at the last moment, Janos’s attack twisted upwards to Gaba’ké’s face and into his left eye.