\hypertarget{chapter-70-dawning}{%
\chapter{Dawning}\label{chapter-70-dawning}}



\epigraph{``For light blinds just as surely as the dark, and hatred binds
just as surely as love.''}{Sherehazad the Seer, Taghreb poet}



I woke up to the feeling of bony elbows digging into my ribs. It
surprised me not because I'd forgotten that Indrani and I had ended up
in bed -- I still felt pleasurably sore from those exertions, so it'd
have been a shame to -- but because she was still here. In my bed,
though for once she was only mildly hogging the covers. The gift of
awareness Sve Noc had granted me, I sometimes suspected without strictly
\emph{meaning} to, had me mindful that dawn was a little more than an
hour away. It'd not been a long night of sleep and to be honest I still
felt a little drunk, but worse come to worse I'd take a nap come the
afternoon. I might need to whatever my intentions, if raising a gate
into Twilight was as exhausting as I suspected it would be. My mind
recoiled at the thought of it, for I would need the guidance of the
Sisters to see it done and that was rarely pleasant or gentle thing. I
stretched and yawned to keep my thoughts moving instead of lingering on
the coming unpleasantness, sliding out of the blanket and sitting on the
edge of the bed. Indrani began to stir awake and I smoothed away a
puzzled frown. I'd wondered if our arrangement would be set aside until
she'd resolved whatever she was going to resolve with Masego, but truth
be told I'd not been entirely surprised we'd ended up in bed after the
rough few days we'd had.

Honesty compelled me to admit I'd not needed much convincing when she'd
offered, either.

That she'd stay afterwards, though, that had me wondering. Not at
whether or not this was blooming into something more romantic in nature
-- for all that Akua had once claimed I had difficulty separating
bedplay from attachment, Indrani and I had always been very clear that
neither of us was likely to ever fall in love with the other -- but at
the nature of whatever accord she was trying to reach with Zeze. I
doubted a man raised by the Warlock and an incubus would be all that
inclined to give a single thought to what people might or might not
consider proper, but I disliked not knowing what I was involved in. Even
if only peripherally. That was on a personal note, anyway. As the
nominal leader of the Woe, there were concerns about what all this
fumbling might mean for our little band. \emph{Though in all fairness},
I grimly thought, \emph{if it's such a great concern I probably
shouldn't be sleeping with Archer.} I bet Black would never have -- huh,
no, he most definitely had. With Ranger, of all women. I cast a
speculative look at Indrani as she opened her eyes. Comparisons between
the Woe and the Calamities had begun before the Queen of Summer had even
granted us the name, so if I was to be my generations equivalent of
Black and Indrani of Ranger? Ugh. That did feel a little sordid.

Indrani took my lingering gaze for something else entirely, and just so
happened to stretch in a way that pushed back the covers and arched up
her breasts. Pure coincidence, no doubt. Well. It would have been rude
not to appreciate the sights, really, if you thought about it. Best not
to mention that earlier thought about equivalences, I decided. Archer
was not, as a rule, all that opposed to sordidness. She did like to rub
my nose in it, though, so no need to hand her a full quiver.

``Don't suppose I could convince you to stay in bed a little longer,''
Indrani said, voice still husky from sleep.

And perhaps something else as well, though that might just be my
continuing look at the smooth expanse of brown skin laid out before me.

``Any more of that and we'll break the cot,'' I smiled. ``Wasn't made
for two people, much less that sort of\ldots{} exercise.''

``Wouldn't be as an issue if I tied your wrists again,'' Indrani airily
said.

Now that was just unfair. And surely I could spare a bit of time before
leaving the tent. Or perhaps half my time. Unfortunately, my awareness
of looming dawn made it clear that was not the case despite my body's
insistence otherwise.

``I'll need time to prepare the grounds for the ritual,'' I reluctantly
said.

She sighed, though from the sly look in her eye I'd say my hesitation
had been the prize she'd been after from the start. Indrani always
turned pixie, after a shared night, as if the shedding of clothes
brought out her vainest sort of guiles.

``Boring,'' she said, waving a hand in dismissal. ``Still, I'm already
up. No point in going back to bed alone.''

I snorted. Yeah, she hadn't been expecting me to accept then. It was
still night out, and so it was not all that difficult to spin black
flames around the stone basin to the side of my bed until the water
within it was warm. I took the cloth to the side of it and began by
washing my face, though I ceased when I felt Indrani looking at me.

``Not happening,'' I said.

I swept my unbound hair back over my shoulder as I spoke, aware from how
frequently Indrani liked to grip it that she had something of a
fascination there. I didn't have curves to display, unlike my friend,
but I was hardly unattractive to her. It was my arms, though, that she
was looking at.

``You're getting wiry,'' Archer said, sounding fascinated. ``Haven't
seen your body change that much since the Folly.''

Had I gained muscles? Strange, since I wasn't walking around in plate or
sparring regularly anymore. Some of my surprise must have shown on my
face, as she continued to speak.

``You were bulkier when we first met,'' Indrani said. ``Warrior-framed.
You look more like a hunter now, made for the long stride instead of the
shield wall.''

``You're feeling rather poetic this morning,'' I drily said.

``Been a while since slept in the same bed,'' she smiled. ``Don't get
used to it.''

I wet the cloth again, for the wetness had cooled, and wiped the lower
half of my face to hide my hesitation. Ah, well. If I waited for either
Indrani or Masego to tell me what was going on, I'd still be waiting on
my deathbed.

``Should,'' I delicately began, ``I get used to \emph{this}?''

I flicked a few fingers at the messy bed we'd been sharing. Her
expression was difficult to parse, and not for the lack of light in the
tent: a sliver of Night had seen to that.

``Not sure yet,'' she said. ``But I did tell you, back in Great Lotow --
that is that, and this is this.''

\emph{For you, maybe}, I thought. I wasn't sure exactly what she was
trying to have with Masego, but any manner of pairing would rather imply
he could have an opinion as well. It wasn't that I expected Zeze to
suddenly make like an Alamans priest and condemn the pleasures of the
flesh as wayward. Mores aside, he was not above those himself: me might
not have any interest in bedplay, but I'd seen him dig into fresh apple
tarts like a starving orc would a pig. He'd not been overweight when we
first met without reason. Still, I honestly had no idea of what he'd
want of a relationship -- any relationship -- that wasn't friendship or
family. Didn't help that I'd never heard him express a desire for one.
His fathers had been married and a closed circle, as far as I knew, and
among the rest of the band of Named who'd raised him Sabah had been
happily wed and mother while Black had his\ldots{} rapport with the Lady
of the Lake, though I'd been made to understand that they only met every
few years for a short span. Gods, none of us had been raised in a
traditional family, had we? Orphan, diabolist and incubus,
\emph{Ranger}. Vivienne's mother had been assassinated by the Empire,
after all. Although, now that I thought about it, Hakram's childhood had
not been all that unusual by orc standards. He'd simply been an ill-fit
for his clan, and later the College.

Hells, that might actually go some way in explaining why he tended to be
the most stable of us.

``Still, I'll not be offended if our company lapses until you have your
house in order,'' I told her.

She ought to know already, but sometimes it was best to have those
things stated outright.

``And who will you work out your tensions with, then?'' she grinned. ``I
suppose our shady friend might be up to scratching that itch, but you'll
have to train her up to snuff first.''

I frowned.

``That's thrice now that people have commented on that,'' I said.

Hakram had asked me directly, and though last night Aisha's question had
been a great deal more circumspect it'd been of the same vein.

``Come off it,'' Archer said. ``It's hardly the first time I've jested
about the Mighty Shadow Lass' neckline plunging whenever she thinks
you're looking. No need to be troubled over it, Cat: she's a looker, and
invites the looking. It's hardly a sin to accept the invitation now and
then.''

On occasion it felt otherwise, though that voice was the same that
reminded me there could be no just reason for allowing the Doom of
Liesse to breathe free air. That a hundred thousand souls demanded, if
not lasting torment, at least as painful an execution as I could carry
out. I could not entirely articulate why it was worse that I found her
attractive added to the rest, but it'd always had that taste against my
tongue. That I'd grown to like, and in some ways even trust, Akua
Sahelian was worse still. The fate I meant for her was just in the ways
that mattered, I truly did believe, but I suspected many would disagree.
And so the wheel spun, the endless loop of wondering if I being swayed
or played or if the whispers were black and brutal vengeance indignant
at being denied. I'd wondered these wonderings before, and no truth had
come of the spinning. Which had me glancing thoughtfully at Archer,
curious if that'd all been a skillful to steer the conversation away
from a subject she was not yet ready to speak of. Given her enduring
reluctance to simply state as much -- for which I blamed Ranger, who'd
beaten into her head while young that admitting anything of the sort was
naked weakness -- I wouldn't put it past her. Best let those sleeping
dogs lie for now, then.

``You can't lecture me about sin, you wench. Who's the priestess here?''
I lightly replied.

That devolved into petty bickering, not that there'd been any doubt, and
we washed up and dressed in quick order after that. Hakram was sleeping,
for once, but we still found a fire going outside my tent and a pair of
legionaries awaiting by it with breakfast. We chatted over the porridge
as cuts from last night's meal -- horse, by the smell of it -- were put
over flame. The two were lieutenants, one from General Istrid's old
legion and the other one of mine since Marchford though she'd first seen
combat when Winter struck at my demesne. The lieutenant from the Sixth
was an old Soninke and quite obviously a bastard from some noble line by
the cultured, highborn manner of speaking. They were both respectful but
neither gazed at me with the near-awe I got from so many young
legionaries these days. It was both a great deal more comfortable and
made conversation easier. Archer left early after stealing half my horse
meat, alleging she was going to have a look at Masego.

``Bring him, if he's awake,'' I said.

Pilgrim might not like it, but I was less than charitably inclined
towards the man right now. As for the Sisters, unless they wanted to be
present at every gate-crafting then the knowledge of how to craft it
would have to be passed and I could think of none more fitting than
Hierophant to hold it. Their last talk had, uh, not been all that civil
but no grudge should be kept over that. They'd acted like carrion and so
been treated as such, and it was doubtful Masego would keep a grudge on
his side. I felt Sve Noc's attention, brought by the thought pertaining
to them, and their silence was implicit agreement. They gained nothing
from being at odds with Hierophant, though I doubted it was writ in
their fates they'd be bosom friends anytime soon. I finished breaking my
fast, thanked the officers and claimed a steaming cup of the herbal
concoction Adjutant had arranged to be waiting for me before I began my
trek back up the slope of the barrow. My fondness for the place had
grown with the use I'd made of it, but Sve Noc and Akua were all
adamant: the heart of the old Mavian prayers was where the boundaries
were thinnest. It'd be significantly easier to make a passage there,
though sentimentality aside I'd had more practical objections.

The raised stones would make it more difficult for large amounts of
people to pass through, and this gate into the Twilight Ways was meant
for my armies to use. The footpaths up the slope were difficult, which
meant there were no roads for supply carts and siege engines to feasibly
employ. Besides, unless we knocked down the stones it'd be effectively
impossible to take them through. My advisory triumvirate of assorted
crows and shade had uncertain when I'd asked them whether after the
passage was made it'd unmake it to bring down the stones. Akua insisted
that it was a `boundary echo' that made the place appropriate, and so it
wouldn't matter, but Andronike had disagreed. Something about an indent
having a particular shape, and not existing without that shape. I was a
decade of schooling in sorcery short to understand Akua's opinion and
short an apotheosis to properly understand Andronike's. Still, even if
the entire thing proved unworkable without the stones then at least we'd
have a working pathway into Twilight for small groups and schematics for
the second one to be made. The wards and workings around the tumulus had
been removed, so there was nothing keeping the cold bite of the night
wind away as I limped up the hill. I drew on Night to chase away the
cold, though it was more an illusion cast on myself than true warmth.

I'd been able to feel her through the Night even before calling on it,
so my face betrayed no surprise when after passing between the circle
stones I found Akua Sahelian waiting atop the barrow. She'd eschewed
dresses for a heavy yet elegant cloak line with fox fur, its deep red
tones perfectly married to the heavy velour robes she wore below. She
did not turn as I limped forward, nor when I came to stand by her side
and sipped at the herbal brew in my hands.

``Deep thoughts?'' I said. ``I've a copper or two to spare for them.''

She did not immediately reply. Unlike with the drow, I could not taste
of Akua's emotions through the Night. The Sisters had told me it was
because she partook of their bounty only through me, and the nature of
that tie was older than the touch of the Night itself. It'd been
inherited through the Mantle of Woe and Winter's last gasps, which made
things rather more complicated. Amusingly enough, in some ways my patron
goddesses were as much in the dark as I: there was no precedent to any
of this, and no understanding of sorcery or power was so comprehensive
that this extraordinary an unfolding would be perfectly grasped. A
reminder, perhaps, of the unbridgeable gap between gods and Gods. The
shade's eyes were not on me or even the dry riverbed of what had once
been a place halfway to Arcadia: she was, instead, gazing at the now
empty firepit that'd been dug yesterday.

``Do you remember Barika Unonti?'' Akua suddenly asked.

Truth be told, for all their high birth and purported importance most of
the then-Heiress' helpers had half-faded from my memory. Sneers and
tittering and arrogance could only have so many flavours without my
keeping them in my remembrance only as some Wasteland brat who'd
insisted on crossing me until death ensued. Barika, though? Her I
remembered. The way I'd broken her finger, the first time I attended
court in the Tower, and been punished for that mistake. More for the way
she'd died. Convinced she was untouchable, even after helping Akua open
a Lesser Breach straight into Liesse. I'd put a crossbow bolt in her eye
as she knelt, and she'd died before she could even be surprised. And
that death I'd made into salt to rub into Akua's wounds that day, when
I'd ordered her buried in consecrated grounds so that nothing of her
could ever be brought back from the afterlife.

``I do,'' I said. ``She taught me a valuable lesson.''

``Looking back now,'' Akua said, ``I suspect she might have been my
friend. Or as close to that as our understanding of the sentiment
allowed.''

And still, I thought, the young Heiress had left her behind as an
illusory decoy knowing I might very kill her for what was about to be
unleashed. Part of me scorned her for that, though another wondered of
the cold choices I'd made sending some of those I loved into battle and
wondered if the difference there was not shallower than I'd wish. I did
not answer. In part for my role in how Barika Unonti had died, no matter
how worthy of that death she had been, but also in a moment of wonder.
I'd suspected, even back then, that of all her followers Unonti was
likely the only one she had any degree of real fondness for beyond that
which usefulness garnered. It'd been years since I killed the girl, much
less thought of her, but her mistress remembered her still. It was a
small thing, and fragile. And it tasted like triumph to my tongue, for
the fate I had promised Akua Sahelian was beginning to take shape.

``I used to think you lacked the knack for cruelty, did you know?'' the
shade smiled. ``Oh, you've a way with the striking: to evoke fear or
loyalty with an act and turn of phrase. Yet I always found your ways to
be\ldots{} clear. Lacking that touch of malice my people drink along
with mother's milk.''

A moment passed, wind stirring both our long cloaks.

``But not anymore,'' I said.

``Last night,'' Akua pensively said, ``might be the single most cruel
act I was ever subjected to.''

I did not protest. Because it was true. Because this was the sound of
bile being bled out of tainted veins.

``I cannot even muster rancor, Catherine,'' she said. ``For it was a
misery entirely of my own making, and exquisitely brought besides.''

``It doesn't have to be that way,'' I said.

She laughed, bleakly.

``Doesn't it?'' Akua said. ``For I was allowed, for just a moment, the
taste of something I might have had. And oh it was a \emph{heady} thing,
my queen. A place by your hearth, partaking of the warmth and belonging
that radiates from it. And though they love you and have long despised
me, your favour alone was enough for me to be made welcome. For them
to\ldots{}''

She turned to me with burning golden eyes.

``Do you not understand that the laughs should have been empty?'' she
hissed. ``That it should have been artifice, at show put on for purpose.
I am a better liar than any of them, Catherine Foundling, than any of
you. I know the face of truth. After years of enmity all it took for
them to make room for me by the fire was a word from you. \emph{I could
have had all of this years ago}.''

``Yes,'' I agreed, ``you could have.''

``The closest I have to match to last night is a girl I sent to die,''
Akua bitterly said. ``You've devised a poison so sweet I will crave the
taste of it.''

I looked at her, in the dark before the dawn, and knew that in that
moment either I had been made of fool or I had won. Once more I chose
silence, knowing that the slightest hint of what might be taken as gloat
would send the entire delicate edifice tumbling down.

We were silent still, when the others arrived.
