Michael

"They're still glowing."

"Yes, Michael. That's nice."

Fisk ignored me then, and went back to talking with Aaron, who I couldn't understand if I tried. My memories had mostly returned to me, I thought, and I could even think clearly most of the time. But for the life of me I couldn't figure out what Aaron's gestures meant. Aaron glowed too, and I was sure that had something to do with magic, but what that was and why I could see it was information that danced just out of my reach. But at least I now recognized that it was something magic wasn't meant to do.

Although there was a more concerning gap in my knowledge.

"Why do I have tattoos anyway?"

Fisk waved me off to go pack our things. The sheriff, who seemed rather disturbed by me, had told us we were free to go when he returned me to the inn that morning. It had taken two nights, not one, but I was happy to more around freely once more.

Our things were no longer at the Chestnut. Fisk, distracted with consoling Aaron, seemed to have forgotten that he'd moved them while putting on a show for Belmont. But I knew where Chant and Tipple were, so I went to fetch them.

Aaron and Fisk were both gone when I returned, leaving me unsure what to do. Rumor that I wasn't the fearsome killer after all was making its way around town, but I'd seen more than one person flinch away from me since I was let free. A reaction my tattoos almost certainly helped spur. I had no desire to wander around town while people still feared me. I now remembered having been chased by a mob shortly after I'd become unredeemed.

After waiting long enough, I decided to check different inns in the town to see which Fisk had left our luggage at. It took two tries before I found the right one, which seemed right. I didn't know the full workings of Cranbor, but it seemed to me that a mining town, even a fairly large one, could only support so many inns.

Most of our things we already packed. Fisk had only taken a few of his own clothes out, and it was easy to get those back in place. The chore took less time than I'd hoped, and I worked slowly as I secured our packs on Chant and Tipple. There wasn't much else for me to do until I found Fisk and Aaron.

'Twould be a shame, I realized, that Aaron might now have to run the Chestnut on his own. Belmont would hang. What the judicars might think of him killing Sanders to protect Aaron I couldn't say. They might think it a fair argument. But there was no excuse for killing Harold so long after the boy had stopped telling everyone Aaron's secret.

I thought then that we might offer to help. At least until he had recovered from the blow that Belmont's arrest had dealt him. For all the help he had given us, it only felt right that we help him in return.

With this thought in mind, I almost had Chant and Tipple stabled again, but Fisk found me as I was on my way and took Tipple's reigns.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. And it was about time that he took notice.

"Still a little confused. Less so than before," I told him. Looking past him, I saw that Aaron was still there, and was no accompanied by the sheriff. "Is there anything we need to do? We could stay and help Aaron."

Aaron's face lit as Fisk's fell.

"Absolutely not. We're leaving this town. Now. Right now. Before anyone else dies."

"I thought we caught both killers."

"I'm not betting on there not being another."

Portman cleared his throat. "Well, we certainly hope there isn't anyone else."

"If there is, we'll make it easy for you and remove the most obvious false lead," Fisk told him. To show that he meant it, he pulled himself up onto Tipple as he spoke.

I gave Aaron a sympathetic smile before getting onto Chant, then thought to say, "I'm sorry about Belmont."

It might have been the wrong thing to say. His mouth tightened into a thin line, and he looked away.

My heart ached for him, but I didn't know what else to do. Even if 'twas my presence that made Belmont feel he could get away with murder, I'd hardly compelled him to strangle two men. And with the town still on edge, Fisk was probably right to want us gone.

"You should be more careful," I told Aaron when nothing consoling came up. "Don't let anyone else see you… ah… making things easier."

He nodded, but he wouldn't look up at me.

Portman had been told about us. There wasn't much choice. Between Belmont's accusations and my breakout there was plenty of suspicion as to what I was, and once he needed to know Belmont's motive, Fisk had persuaded Aaron to come forward and supply it. Killing Harold, it turned out, had been a very bad idea indeed.

I thought I'd done a good job of being subtle, talking on an open street, but 'twas obvious enough what I meant to those who knew, and Portman smiled for me more broadly than I thought he ought to.

"We'll make sure this is kept a secret," he assured me. "I would hate to see someone else killing over you two's talents. Be it to control them, or keep them hidden." He looked to Fisk then, and I would have been offended by the implication if Fisk hadn't laughed.

"I would feel more like throttling Michael if he gave himself away."

"Well, we'll do our best here to see to it that any rumors about Michael and Belmont's accusations are properly quelled." Smiling for me again, he added, "You take care, now."

"I'll take good care of him," Fisk promised, which left me offended on my own behalf. I was recovering just fine, and even if there were a few details that I still struggled with, I didn't need a caretaker.

But when I tried to protest Fisk shot me a silencing look, and hurried through his goodbyes with Aaron and the sheriff before turning Tipple towards the edge of town.

I waited long enough for the two to be out of earshot before speaking. "He treated me differently than when we arrived."

"He thinks your simple," was Fisk's reply. "You must have said something after they took you away the last time to give him that impression. And knowing about your… ah… Gifts would certainly lend to that suspicion. I see no reason to correct him."

"I do."

"If it means he let you go easy, I don't," Fisk insisted. "We'll be gone from town soon, as it is, so you aren't likely to meet anyone here again. Anyone we come across in the future will think you're crazy because you tell them you're a knight errant."

He had a point there, but…

"Fisk, if I am a knight errant, how do I have these?" I asked, showing him the tattoos.

Now that nothing was distracting him from me, Fisk raised an eyebrow. Then snickered. "You don't remember that one yet?"

"No, so you ought to tell me."

Fisk considered it, then turned Tipple west. "We're a day's travel from the next town. Just in case someone accuses you of something there, I suppose you ought to know the story behind those marks, don't you. You cause enough trouble knowing what you're doing."

"'Tis hardly my fault if someone frames me for murder."

"But it is your fault if you break out of jail," he countered. "And if you being unredeemed makes you easy to frame, then it's also your fault for choosing to be marked."

Choosing? "I chose these?"

"We might want to walk a little slower," Fisk mused. "This story might take some time to get through."

I wracked my brain for anyone we might have tangled with who could have left me with the choice to become unredeemed. Ceciel? Maxwell? Jack? No. I felt reasonably certain that Jack had taken advantage of those marks, in one way or another. Although now that I could remember him, I turned Chant north.

"Michael."

"I believe there's a closer town this way," I said.

Fisk looked stunned for only a moment, then reluctantly turned Tipple to follow me. If I was still somewhat confused from my magic experiment, then so long as I kept up an innocent face, there was no reason to suspect I knew that north would take us closer to Tallowsport.

"I'll have to rush through the story, now," Fisk said.

"I'm sure I remember enough parts of it that we'll manage," I told him, "My memories are coming back."

"Do you think this will be a common thing? Losing them when you work magic?"

"No. I've no intention of forcing my magic up as I did in that cell," I told him. "There's no telling if it won't do worse to me next time. I would rather avoid using it, if I can."

"Unless those powers work on their own."

They might, but alarming as that was, they'd yet to harm me when acting of their own will.

"Mayhap there's some way to control them when they do so, but I've no desire to try," I informed him. "Now, you were going to tell me about the tattoos. Did I mention that they glow."

"Oh, right." There was a glint in his eyes that I wasn't sure I liked. "Well, do you remember the time you broke someone else out of jail?"