Excerpt

Afternoon trickled by, and the stranger slept still.

They didn't twitch or toss, or snore or moan—didn't give sign of life save for the slow rise and fall of their chest. Horace first paced the silent room, then gave them another once-over despite the caretakers' earlier attention, and finally returned to the pacing, unable to sit still. The more time e had to unwind, the more terrifying and baffling today became.

Horace fought the eeriness the best way e knew: with food. Varena had a great talent for spice and texture, and tonight she'd simmered bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms into a paste of tomato and herbs, then cracked several eggs to cook into it. E had devoured two plates one after the other then left a third for the stranger, expecting them to wake up to the delicious, spicy scent of a hot meal. They hadn't.

Hours had passed and Horace had stayed, the room's silence more and more oppressive. Despite eir best efforts, e mentally reviewed the day, turning the events in eir head every which way. E didn't understand any of it—not the intruder behind the Shield Glyph's protective ward, not the Fragments fusing together into a single entity, not this stranger shapeshifting into a tree-like monster, not the power of their words and how it had rooted em, and certainly not eir burning desire to stay with them, talk to them, protect them. Horace was used to confusion—e tended to be the last one to understand any given thing—but e didn't think others would fare better. Worse, probably, considering Varena had once called em an obtuse optimist.

E was still mulling it over when—finally!—the stranger stirred. They gasped, and their eyes fluttered open, and for a long time they only stared at the ceiling, unmoving. E should have given them time to recover and get their bearings, but after hours of silence, the few extra minutes were too much to ask.

"You're awake!" E sprang to eir feet and leaned over the bed, close to their face. "Hello."

Their lips parted, and wow, Horace hadn't noticed how dry those were. But everything about this stranger felt that way: bone thin and desiccated, like plunging them in water would be the best thing to happen to them. Only their eyes didn't have that sickly, undercared for look. Black and deep and alert, they stared at Horace with obvious wariness.

"Stay back," they said.

Horace realized just how close e'd inched and straightened all the way back with an awkward laugh. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you or anything! You've just been asleep so long. Hours! I got excited." E ran a hand through eir curls and offered eir best non-threatening grin. They didn't seem reassured. "I'm Horace ka-Zestra. We fought those Fragments together?"

"You… are the fool who jumped in," they said. "I am… Aliyah."

They'd said the first without any judgment, as a simple statement of fact. And it was true. E had jumped in.

"That's my duty! Jumping in, I mean, except, er—my mentor disagreed after and said I shouldn't have, but no matter. It worked out, didn't it? After a fashion. I mean, we're both alive, and so is everyone else." E needed to stop rambling, but it was like all the words e'd held in while watching over them in silence now sprung forth. "I don't know about you but that was the wildest day of my entire life."

"Where am I?" they asked. The focused question was a kindness of its own.

"At the Table Hooves. It belongs to Varena der-Viella and she's a friend, so don't worry. We'll be fine. I brought you here after you collapsed. Are you feeling all right? The caretakers said you didn't need medical attention but they've never seen anyone like you either…"

Aliyah's frown interrupted eir ramble. They very slowly pushed themself up to a sitting position and scanned the room. Silence stretched between them, and Horace put all of eir meagre willpower into keeping eir mouth shut. Clearly, they were not inclined to talk. It must have been a lot for them, too, the whole tree transformation and making Fragments dissipate.

"I need to leave."

They slung their legs over the side of the bed. Horace laughed and grabbed their minuscule shoulder. "Leave? Is your egg cracked? You stayed knocked out for hours. You gotta rest, not leave."

E wasn't even finished and Aliyah already shook their head. "Release my shoulder."

Well now. Not even a 'please'? Horace pouted. "That's a no from me. I'm not letting you walk out without a proper meal and full introductions. You haven't even given me pronouns yet!"

The quirk of Aliyah's eyebrows changed, and while they weren't the most expressive, Horace chose to interpret that as confusion. Or thoughtfulness? Perhaps they were considering the offer!

"The default here is they/them, is it not? That is sufficient for me."

"Well, I use e/em." Horace released Aliyah's shoulder, but only long enough to grab the plate and shove it on their lap. "Now you eat. I bet transforming into a tree monster leaves you ravenous. Is that why you're so thin? Not eating after you unleash all that power?"

"A—"

Aliyah clamped down on their question before it could escape then stared at Horace, long and hard. Was that supposed to intimidate em? Stinky eyes rarely induced guilt or shame in Horace unless the feeling already existed. It definitely did not right now, so e only grinned back in challenge. Aliyah twitched, but their expression remained as unreadable as that masked intruder's. Moreso, even—that porcelain mask had had the creepiest of grins.

"Fine," Aliyah eventually whispered, the word almost a sigh. "I'll eat if you tell me what happened. From the start."

They wanted em to talk? Horace clapped eir hands, a surge of excitement piercing through the hazy fear of the day. "Now that will be my pleasure."

E launched emself into the tale with great gusto, eir booming voice painting first the image of a typical busy market day, all inhabitants safe under the dome shield until a flamboyant masked stranger shattered the peace. Aliyah ate with extreme slowness, one tiny fork at a time, paying more attention to the meal than to Horace. Maybe the story was only a pretext to keep em busy, but Horace had needed to pour the whole tale out to someone who wouldn't scold em for any mistakes, and to give voice to how confusing and terrifying it had all been. Every word out of eir mouth made em feel lighter and steadier.

E spied for a reaction as e reached Aliyah's transformation into a deadly tree being, but they remained stone-faced. They did stop eating, as if bottling any feelings left no energy for anything else. Horace wished people wouldn't do that. E never saw the point in keeping yourself a mystery—how was someone supposed to make honest connections that way? Not that e could've done it if e tried. Eir inability to keep emotions hidden—irritation and panic included—had contributed to eir dismissal as a Clan Viella apprentice.

By the time e finished, Aliyah had grown agitated despite their best efforts. The plate lay cleaned out on the bedside table, and their hands clung to one another on their lap. They didn't look at em, only at the door, but the tapping of their fingers on the bed betrayed them. Horace, in a feat of exceptional patience, waited for them to react to the story on their own.

"And everyone saw this?" they asked.

"Everyone around the outsider's slice. Most people had fled, but those hiding in Rumi's Wandering Wagon must have watched those fused Fragments and prayed to the glyphs the Wagon was as safe as promised. They, huh, definitely reported everything to my mentor, who thought Clan Maera would want to ask you questions."

"Right."

A single word, and more silence. Horace had expected a stronger reaction to the mention of Clan Maera, but e was quickly learning that 'strong reaction' wasn't part of Aliyah's normal range. Maybe they didn't fear the mysterious clan the way most people did. Could they be part of it? But they hadn't given any clan affiliation, and they spoke with a lilting accent that'd made Horace believe they'd not lived in Trenaze for long. E wondered what drifted through Aliyah's mind when they got this quiet and intense.

"How late does the market stay open?" they asked.

"Till sundown." Horace glanced at the flitting light through the window. "Two hours, at most? Probably less."

"Once it closes, it is mostly deserted, yes?"

"There might be a few drifters here and there, and the occasional merchants who forgot something or wanted to get prepared for the morrow, stuff like that. Oh, and I suppose there might be others from Clan Zestra around tonight. But no crowds."

Aliyah inhaled, deep and slow, then set the plate aside, back on the bedside table. Their next words seemed to cost them.

"You can take me there. As a guard. Get me where I need to."

They didn't phrase it as a question, and Horace decided that was as good as permission. E grinned. "Sure! But, huh, there's nothing in the market at that time."

"The Wagon will be there."

The Wagon. They could only mean one thing. "Rumi's Wandering Wagon of Wonderful Wares? But… Why?"

"It can take me out of the city."

A twinge of regret pulled at Horace's stomach. E didn't want them to go, to leave Horace without answers and a cartload of consequences—disobeying orders and showing up without the mysterious tree-shapeshifting elf would not go well on eir record. E swallowed hard, trying to find the courage to prod Aliyah with eir questions.

"I'm glad you're planning on sticking around at least a few hours. Rest is good, you know. Whatever all that was today, it was a lot."

"Yes, one could say that."

One could, but they didn't? Did this count as a normal day for them? It hadn't even happened to em, for the most part, and e'd needed double the dinner to force a semblance of normalcy on it. E couldn't have stayed calm, had e transformed into a destructive tree and vaporized a Fragment flock. Aliyah's aloofness was all the more remarkable for it. Maybe this often happened to them, and they knew all about it. E had to ask about today. And once one question came out, the others followed.

"So … did you know that orange-caped person? How does the tree transformation work? Have you seen Fragments fuse before? When you touched them…"

E trailed off. With every new question, Aliyah's expression closed off and their frown deepened. Their answer came through gritted teeth.

"I did not know. Not about your intruder, or about the Fragments." Aliyah closed their eyes, and for a brief moment their unreadable expression turned into exhaustion. They masked it quickly. "I would rather not discuss it any further."

"But do you think it's safe now?"

"It's your dome. I do not know whether it'll fail you again."

A dozen more questions pressed at Horace's lips, but e held them back. The hunters and Clan Maera had been alerted now, and they could take care of the Shield Glyphs and any Fragment intrusion. E didn't want to tire Aliyah any further, and if they didn't have the answers regardless… Prying felt like forcing them to relive the difficult afternoon. They had been run through by that tail-like fragment. What were confusing and scary memories for Horace probably came closer to traumatic ones for Aliyah. Perhaps e could try again, later.

"All right," Horace said, boxing eir worries and curiosity neatly in eir brain for now. "I'll get the saira boards from downstairs."

E was already halfway to the door when e noticed Aliyah's mouth had opened in a small 'o', and although they'd not voiced it, their confusion was, for once, easy to read. Horace grinned.

"Oh, I love new players!" e exclaimed, and left it at that.

E hummed all the way to the storage area, where e snatched a bottle of cactus wine in addition to the game. Varena could scold em later for not asking—she was nowhere around, and Horace would pay her back.

Aliyah had slid out of bed by the time e returned and started the fire. Nights could get cold, and with the sun rapidly vanishing, heating up the room was a good call. Plus, Aliyah was all bones and no fat—no protection to speak of. Horace liked that they were making themselves comfortable. It made it easier to pretend they'd all had a normal day.

"Got everything we need to kill time until the market's empty. You drink?"

"I—yes."

Their hesitation gave Horace pause. "It's fine if you don't. Either tonight or ever. I'm not big on it in general, but this wine's sweet on the tongue."

They stared again, that long and silent stare, an entire world hidden behind inscrutable black eyes. This stare ended with the hint of a smile, a shy curve of their lips that sent Horace's heart flip-flopping.

"I have simply never tried, but I would like to."

"Oh, I see! Well, you're in good hands."

Aliyah wouldn't be the first newcomer to alcohol e'd initiated. As the oldest resident of the Clan Nissa Nursery—the only one far past twenty years of age who'd yet to find a clan that'd accept em—e'd helped plenty of younger relatives sneak in their first drink over the last years. Many a smarmy teen who'd called em a loser for eir failed apprenticeship had come back crawling for easy access to distilled agave or cactus wine. First, they blessed eir inability to hold a grudge, then they cursed em for insisting e stayed nearby. But at the end of the night, e was picking up drunken bodies and ensuring everyone got to bed safely.

Horace retrieved two small cups of clay then settled on the ground with the game. Aliyah joined em as e served the first drinks, quietly studying eir every movement. When e was done, they wrapped thin fingers around the clay cup and sniffed it. Their nose wrinkled, and the flash of surprise across their face was the most expressive Horace had seen them yet. E laughed.

"Wait until you taste it," e said, before tilting eir glass towards Aliyah and taking a sip. The wine went down, sweet and fresh with a citrus aftertaste that masked some of the alcohol's kick. Only some of it, though—and certainly not enough for Aliyah. They startled at the first gulp, shaking the whole of their shoulders and head as they leaned back, their eyes watering.

"What—"

Horace's booming laugh filled the entire room, and to eir delight, Aliyah joined with a quiet chuckle. Warmth coursed through Horace at the discreet sound, calming and inebriating in a way no alcohol could be. It felt right, a balm on the stress of the day, and Horace knew e'd seek it out again, the way e so often did friends' laughter. Aliyah wiped their mouth and set down the glass.

"I believe I will take it slow," they declared. "Teach me your game."

Horace complied with great enthusiasm. Saira had only a few key rules: you had to place dice of four different colours on your board, filling it as fast as possible while respecting the four-by-four layout under. Certain dice combinations granted special abilities—stealing from your adversary, switching dice on your board, placing two—and allowed for interaction between players. Points were counted according to the top of the dice, but the best abilities were always created with lower value dice. Horace had played countless games with Varena, and when e had apprenticed with Vellix, a woodcarver, e'd also painted a plethora of new four-by-four boards to liven up the potential combos.

Aliyah paid careful attention to the instructions, absorbing the rules like the dusty ground after a rainfall. They didn't ask questions, only soaked it up until they declared themself ready. Horace rolled the first set of dice, and they started selecting a die from the pool and placing it, turn by turn, until a new pool needed to be rolled. Aliyah kept quiet, playing each of their moves with utter seriousness. Not drinking, not chatting; only playing. By the time the game ended, Horace was far ahead in points, but Aliyah's eyes shone with determination as they tallied the dice. They lifted their head to meet Horace's gaze, and the shy smile returned.

"I was not ready," they concluded, "but now I am."

They grabbed the cup of cactus wine, downed it in one shot, then set it back down gently on the floor. Horace looked on, horrified, as they snatched up the dice bag and rolled the first pool of the game.

"Your move," they said.

No move could have saved Horace that second game. Aliyah turned into a ruthless saira player, chaining powers in unexpected ways and prioritizing combos with which they could destroy Horace's board. The sudden wine intake didn't make them more talkative, either. They studied the board with bright eyes, alert and smiling but silent, always silent—unlike Horace, who could not help but think every one of eir moves out loud, giving away much more than e should. E lost that first game, then the next, before e started countering Aliyah's swift and deadly tactics more effectively. E'd never been a defensive player before—that had been Varena's primary strategy—but against this new foe, Horace had no other choice.

E loved the challenge, and clearly so did Aliyah. They played several games, stretching their fun well past the intended two hours. Horace did manage to win again—once—but Aliyah clearly had em outmatched. Watching them glow silently with every combo was more rewarding than any victory.

Unfortunately, the outside world ruptured their gentle bubble with sharp knocks at the door. Aliyah's dark eyes narrowed as they stared at it, leaving Horace with the distinct impression they didn't want em to answer. But in an establishment like this, only Varena would knock, and only with good reasons. Quiet dread settled in the pit of eir stomach as e cracked the door open. Varena stood on the other side, her arms crossed and clearly very crossed herself.

"You wouldn't believe the stories I'm hearing in the common room, Horace." Her tone could've sliced fingers. "What a day the Grand Market has seen, huh?"

Eir cheeks burned immediately. Of course, she'd hear about the Fragments from customers as they streamed through. Nothing like this had happened in Trenaze in ages.

"Varena, I—"

She stopped em with a sharp raised hand. "I knew you were underselling whatever glyph-cursed mess you'd stepped in when I let you in. But whatever plan you think you have, hiding here, it's a bad one. This is bigger than you, Horace. Let the Clans handle it."

She was right. Somewhere in eir tiny mind, e knew she was right and e should've brought Aliyah to Clan Zestra's headquarters to let others investigate and whatnot. But it had felt wrong then, and it felt even worse now, having met Aliyah, quiet and sharp and closed off. If they hadn't wanted to answer eir questions, they'd have hated Clan Maera's even more—and somewhere between watching them dissipate the Fragments, caught in the sheer gravitas of their presence, and playing silly board games and listening to their soft laugh as they destroyed em, Horace had locked emself into an undeniable, unyielding loyalty. E cared. E cared more than was reasonable, and e didn't have the heart to question it.

"They needed a night to rest. You've heard the story! Anyone would need a night after that."

Varena huffed, her nostrils widening as hot air blew into Horace's face. "Just a night. If the two of you are still here tomorrow, I'll get Clan Zestra myself."

"We won't. I-I promise."

The promise burned eir tongue. Varena meant for em to go to Clan Zestra, not leave, and e hated the omission. Varena's immediate frown didn't help any. She could always tell.

"Tomorrow, Horace," she said. "For your sake."

She clomped away before e could dig emself further into eir own hole, and e closed the door as slowly as e could, before turning to Aliyah. They hadn't moved, but when they spoke, their voice was fierce and resolute.

"I'm leaving tonight. Thank you for showing me this game. It was very pleasant. But we should go."

They stretched, and as they unfolded the weight of the world returned to their shoulders, and to Horace they seemed frail and worried once again, a flower bloom closing in on itself. The sudden pang of loss and regret overwhelmed em.

"Take it. The game, I mean," e said. Aliyah's brows shot up, their mouth twisting to protest, so Horace quickly gathered it up, storing the boards back into the black dice sack. "I'm serious. I can carve and paint another, but you'll never find unique saira boards like these. Varena and I created them."

Aliyah still didn't extend their hands, so Horace shoved the bag into their chest and let go, forcing them to catch it. They gasped and clutched it close. Their lips parted an instant, but whether to protest or thank em, Horace would never know. Aliyah instead nodded, then stored it in the minuscule knapsack they'd had on them before the attack.

"To the market, then."