Double update to try and make up for some of the slowness. Posted same time as chapter 26.

Echoes of Arlathan

Silent Night

The streets of Gwaren were bright. Between the moon and the thin traces of snow: there was a subtle brilliance to the lanes and alleys of the settlement. The same fog that had delayed their ship by two days clung to the tall stone warehouses and crept between the low walls of property and work-yard. Samar walked quickly, led Jylan quietly, with a hand behind him and frequent looks back to make sure Jylan was indeed following him- and closely too, with Dirth at his heels.

"We're almost there," his brother urged. His great need for them to leave the ship despite the time of night and sweeping darkness of the city was unexplainable. Jylan set himself to following quickly, breaths clouding the air as he walked. His hands were chill through his gloves, his shoulders holding some heat that was lost when his feet kicked open the fall of his cloak. His hood remained up, but did little to keep him warm. He walked with the Cherrywood lock-box under one arm, and the strap of the bag holding the food and a few personal belongings over his shoulder.

They turned off the main road away from the docks and quietly sped along until they reached a high wall with a gate set in it. Like many cities, Gwaren's alienage was distinct from the other quarters by the face of a large gate, and it was now closed. They could not enter the alienage, and would have to return to the ship.

"This way."

"The gate is closed," Jylan repeated, uncertain how his brother could have failed to notice it.

"This way." He was beckoned a second time by Samar, whose short cloak was insufficient for the cold weather. If Jylan was cold, his brother should have been easily convinced to return to where it was, if not warmer, then at least sheltered from the open sky.

He followed his brother down a narrow lane between one warehouse and the quiet yard of a craftsman's lodge. Here the snow had not melted away entirely, and formed deep puddles of slush over dirt-caked cobbles. Samar hushed him when Dirth's steps were too loud through these puddles, and then beckoned a third time with his hand and led him further into darkness.

A pile of crates and old stones, a place where the wall had been blown down at its top five feet, exposing the twisted iron bars which reinforced the rest of it. Samar mounted the crates, turned back to give Jylan a hand to make the same climb, and the hound managed the feat without difficulty. Samar then scrambled up the broken wall and squeezed his way nimbly through the bars. He waited on the other side for Jylan to perform the same illicit task, and it took both of them holding one bar to pry the old iron in such a way as to make enough space for Dirth's stocky shoulders to pass through. Samar then helped him quietly manage a narrow plank of wood down onto a small chicken coop. The animals made a gentle fuss as two grown men and a war-hound traipsed over their roof and then hopped down on the outside of the wooden fencing. They landed in more cold, snowy water, and walked quickly around through a very tight black alley littered with snow and trash. Samar broke free into moonlight and Jylan followed.

They were now standing in the shadow of a great oak tree, it's broad branches barren in the winter cold. Briefly and unbidden, Jylan remembered the same twisted arms reaching across a blood-red sky, fire and smoke and taint poisoning the city.

Dirth keened softly in the dark.

The memory was gone before Samar approached the tree itself, its base painted with colours Jylan could not make out in the mixture of moonlight and snow. Vhenadahl, that was the el'vhen word for it. Jylan followed his brother and watched him take out one of his daggers. He marked the bark of the tree with the blade and then wedged one of the playing cards he had made in Vigil's Keep into the slat, then touched his forehead to the wood and backed away again.

"Superstition," Samar whispered when he collected Jylan with an arm around his shoulders. "And good luck. Our house is this way."

The alienage was a mixture of different sorts of buildings: some were stone at their first level and wooden constructs higher up, others were wood from the ground and were only one level, or as many as three. The taller buildings were built against the stone walls of the city around them, with smaller ones crowded close and tight in front, encroaching as closely to the Vhenadahl as they could without threatening the tree.

Wash lines were stretched and strung between buildings, some holding sheets and rags that had frozen solid in the winter chill. Doorways were cluttered with broken, discarded tools: old shovels and picks and fishing rods and other things. Huge stacks of canvas rolls, old netting, and wooden planks marked the alienage anywhere the ground had not settled and opened up great puddles of snow and mud. It was not a well-cared for environment, but he had known not to expect beauty and grandeur.

Samar turned and led him through the first layer of cluttered little buildings, down a tight alley to a second row of houses, and brought him to a two-story home with a crooked front door that was plugged at the bottom with rags and soiled cloth. Dirth snuffed briefly at the door before turning away with a grunt.

It was the middle of the night and the door had no discernible lock. Samar struck his fist against the flimsy door three times, then whistled a tune up to the cold sky.

They waited.

They did not wait long.

Jylan heard footsteps, fast and frantic, before the rags were kicked away and the door wrenched open. A dark face with tangled black hair falling from the crown of her head in a curtain around her shoulders was staring at them so widely the whites of her eyes were glowing in the reflection of the snow. The woman was clutching a dark shawl closed over her chest, was shorter than Samar or Jylan, and she was nearly hunched over herself.

She looked at Samar, and only Samar, and with a frantic heave from her chest she wailed at him and let go of both the door and her shawl. Something clattered to the floor and she rushed straight into Samar's arms, who embraced her hard and fast. She gasped sharply, then choked on a sobbing noise that heaved from her body.

"Ariyah-"

"You awful man-" the woman's voice was shrill but quiet, a painful husk of despair. "-you stupid, awful fool! Samar- Samar-"

"Ariyah-!" He was firmer this time, and held her tight. "Sister, calm down. I'm alright, didn't you get my letter from Amaranthine?" He stroked her hair, pulling it back as she began to weep into him. The pointed lengths of her ears came through her dark hair, and she grasped at him with a hand that-

Dirthamen uttered a low, dangerous growl.

Her skin was dark, darker than Jylan's, and the moonlight did not shed enough of a glow. But he saw that the middle and ring fingers of her hand would not bend and they left something behind on Samar's cloak when he shifted and tried to speak with her, to calm her. The sound of the dog made her jump and fight to get away from him, and her wide eyes found Jylan in the dark before she suddenly dropped to the floor.

She found the knife she had let slip and grabbed it, the point glinting in the low light before she was up from her crouch.

"Who the hell are you?" She hissed, enough of her hair drawn back to show something was not right with her face. The eye resting in moonlight should not have been darker than the one in the doorway, her cheek was noticeably raised, and when she clutched the knife it was with her off-hand, the other clutched close to her body like it hurt her.

"No-" Samar took her wrist, then the knife, wrenched the weapon free like he might have a feather from a bird. "No. What happened to your face? What's wrong? Bahain, answer me."

"Who is he?" She gasped at Samar this time, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to come between her and Jylan. To relieve some of her distress, he took a quick step back from the door with Dirthamen swinging around behind him in a low crouch.

"He's your brother, like me, now come inside and sit down."

"Brother-!?"

"I found him, now inside. In." He nearly picked her up to take her across the threshold and into the dark house. Jylan did not follow.

"I will remain out here until she is-"

Samar reached back out, took him hard by the neck of his cloak, and dragged him forward across the threshold. He staggered but did not fall, and stomped into the house where he was immediately caught in the dark and the overwhelming scent of astringent laundry soap. The air was damp and cold, and with the door open behind them it was the only source of light.

"Where are the children?" Samar's rough voice asked in the dark. He was a formless shape that made wood clatter against stone, and close to him was the sound of Ariyah's sharp breaths as she was made to sit.

"Asleep," she gasped. "Samar-"

"Jeevan, the fireplace is to your left, strike something." It was a reasonable demand. "Is there wood?"

"I don't know," she answered, and Samar repeated it in disbelief.

"You don't know? Ariyah what's happened?"

It was very dark. Jylan's hands reached through the murk and he walked and walked until he found the cold stones of a chimney, then the ledge of a mantel, then the mouth of a sooty hearth. He felt inside because it was not warm and found cinders and broken bits among the deep bed of ash. Although it made a mess, he followed the stones with his hands until he found two dry portions of wood and a box of scraps and kindling. He took a handful of the trash and pushed away some of the ash to clear a space for a new fire, stacking the dried wood atop it.

"When did your ship come in? Tonight?"

"Ariyah, answer me. Where did these bruises come from? Why is the house so cold?"

He drew the dagger from Velanna and turned the sheathe over in his hand, striking blindly at it looking for the line of flint set into the wood and leather casement. Sparks flew, but it took several more attempts until they caught on the loose threads and dried leaves and began to smoke. The small flames were fed with another hand of kindling, nearly emptying the box. He brushed his hands off as light began to build and the flames caught on the wood. It was not enough to burn all night, but it would suffice for now.

"You must be hungry. I'm sorry, there's no dinner."

"Stop. Where are Rian and Saya?"

Jylan stood and let the light into the room, closing the front door and noting the rags before kicking them back into place under the noticeable space between the door and the threshold. The floor was covered in dried rushes, as well as a noticeable quantity of dirt over the stone tiles. Samar had seated his sister at a large dinner table which took up much of the space in the room, and hanging from several lines along one wall were sheets and clothes meant to be drying.

There was a modest kitchen behind his siblings: a counter of wood and stone with a warped top, a large bucket for carrying water in and out of the house, pots and pans and many, many jars on a crooked shelf hammered into the wall. Many dried herbs hung from the walls and ceiling.

Closer to him and to the fire was half a stone wall that was all that remained of an older structure. A large, oddly shaped bed was nearly lost under blankets, pillows, lengths of fabric and wool. All but hidden under one fold of black fabric was a small nose and two wide, wet eyes. Jylan could see the fragile curl of tiny fingers, and the rhythmic motion of a small mouth sucking a smaller thumb.

"Maker's Breath- Jeevan." Samar drew his attention away from the frightened, hidden child. He approached the table where Samar was gently cradling their sister's hand between both palms. "Can you fix this?"

He looked down, and Samar held Ariyah's hand out so he could see it. Her ring and middle fingers were darkly bruised, nearly crooked, and she held them very stiffly. It was possible that she had broken them, but he could not know for certain without touching her- something he was unwilling to do. After making his observation, he took a step back again and folded his hands together in front of him, hidden by the fall of his cloak.

"Samar, you can't be serious…" She spoke to Samar but was looking at Jylan. One of her eyes was indeed bruised and her cheek was swollen. She had been beaten. "This can't be him…"

Drawing a proper breath, Jylan addressed his brother's request.

"I am not a healer, but I can provide a poultice for her hand and eye. If the fingers are broken, I would be capable of setting them, but have neither a splint nor bandages to wrap them with."

Dirth traipsed back into this room. Jylan had been too preoccupied with the fire to notice that there was another doorway further inside the home that led off somewhere. The dog's nose was snuffing at the dirty floor, ears up and alert. When the animal's actions took his attention, they also drew Ariyah's and Samar's.

The dog circled the table, then snuffed many times at Ariyah's chair, then at her skirts at which point she immediately shied back towards Samar. The hound was irritated and made a deep rumbling noise in his chest.

Jylan saw that when Ariyah moved, her skirt parted with a frayed, uneven seam. It had been torn. It had been ripped.

"Samar." He had not intended to speak as he did not know what right he possessed to do so. Dirth snuffed and sniffed at her repeatedly, growing more and more agitated, and it recalled several instances of the same behaviour at Vigil's Keep following each of Jylan's encounters with- "Is there a midwife in the alienage?"

"A midwife?" Samar asked. Ariyah stared at Jylan with eyes wide and silently filling with terror, and he lowered his gaze to the table. "Why would we need…?" A sudden pause. "Dirth-?" Recognition. "No."

Samar stood up quickly from his chair and Ariyah grasped at him with both hands, making pleas in a shattered, whispering voice.

"Stop- Samar, no-" She pleaded, and he shook her hands off, an ugly look of rage twisting his face. "His ship came back a month ago and we didn't know how much longer yours would take. He brought silver, the Hahren said we had to try again so I did."

"I'll kill him-"

"No, the Hahren said-"

"Then I'll kill the Hahren too!" Samar shouted, his voice much too loud in the quiet room. "Why is there no firewood? Why is there no food!? If he brought silver into this house then where is it? And where is Rian!"

"Rian is with the little whore and left her milk-brat with me!" Ariyah howled back at him, frightening Dirthamen from her side and bringing the hound back quickly to swing behind Jylan's legs. "And I don't know! I don't know!" She screamed.

Jylan heard a sharp, piercing wail break out from under the blankets next to him. When he looked, he saw only one small hand slide out and cup over the open mouth of the wailing child, dragging the smaller one down until the blankets hid all signs that they were there. The bedding shifted in too many places for one person, and the crying was muffled by both the blankets and the screaming:

"He said he would bring fresh meat from the market for the children and I, took his silver and vanished all day!" Ariyah railed at Samar, standing and holding her crippled hand to her breast like she would slap him with it. "When he came back after sunset without so much as a cabbage leaf and reeking of drink, he did this to me for not making him dinner from nothing! In front of his own children!"

"You let him!" Samar yelled, and she slapped him.

"He took every coin and tried to belt my son for saying you would be home to stop him!" She screamed back at him, tears cutting down her cheeks. "You're never home! And my son had to pay for it until I stopped him, without you!"

Samar was quiet in the face of this, the slap quelling his temper rather than firing it up further. Jylan watched in utter silence as his brother gathered his thoughts, then clenched his jaw and spoke again.

"Your face, your hand: where else did he hurt you?"

Ariyah took a sharp breath, staggered at the question, and shook her head.

"That is between husbands and wives," she choked. They all heard Samar take a bracing breath of anger, they did not hear Jylan before he spoke.

"Master Ashera," and he did so with the intention of distracting from the unwise verbal blow Samar intended to inflict on their sister. "You are fatigued from the long voyage and emotionally distraught. Your sister is in a state of intense physical and emotional discomfort, and her children have already been exposed to intense conflicts this evening. I understand that no one in this household was provided with proper food yesterday, and hunger leads to powerful experiences of distress."

They both looked at him with tense, narrow suspicion. He did not feel anxiety at their attention and did not back down from the scrutiny. He was tranquil, and he was offering to mediate their immediate issues of hunger and desperate anger.

"Why did you call me that?" Samar asked him, his voice rough.

"Because I do not refer to you by your surname, and it seemed the most efficient way to distract you without raising my own voice in the middle of your conflict."

"Good job."

"Thank you. Do you know where more wood or other fuel for the fire may be acquired at this time of night? The two pieces present in the fire now will burn down soon." Samar's gaze fluttered past him and Jylan pivoted to allow a clearer view of the small fire. He nodded without speaking. "If you will return promptly with such fuel, I will administer the poultice to your sister and prepare the meal provided to us at the beginning of our journey for her and the children to consume."

"Why does he talk like that?" Ariyah asked, still watching Jylan with wavering, watchful eyes.

"It's just the way he is," Samar answered her in a soft voice. "You want to eat that stuff now?"

"I understood from your sister's cries that she and her children have not eaten all day, and were subjected to violence at the very end of it. Have I misconstrued events?" Samar shook his head and Ariyah's dark eyes looked close to tears again. Therefore, he continued: "As the children are now awake due to your argument, it seems only reasonable to feed them. Your family is cold, Samar, please fetch the wood to warm them."

His brother nodded once, then repeated it several more times. He was tired and deeply stressed, and turned around quickly to catch Ariyah up into a tight hug and kiss her hair. She clung to him the same way and let tears fall, then they let go of each other and she mumbled instructions and a direction to him. He opened the door and stopped very abruptly on the threshold for a moment, then continued out and shut the door behind him.

Jylan unslung the bag from the ship onto the table and opened the top of it. The Cherrywood lock-box was placed beneath the bag. In no particular order, he removed the dry loaf of bread and the portion of smoked deer meat, then the two smoked pheasants, which were wrapped in a piece of linen. One of the birds was missing a leg: a peace offering to Dirthamen while on board the ship.

"Who are you?" Ariyah asked in a quaking voice, her eyes wide as she watched the food appear from his hands and settle on the table. He did not know if the surface was clean, but hunger would not be dissuaded by such things. "Stranger, where did you get all of this?"

"From the denizens of Vigil's Keep, a fortress in the north of the country where I was employed as a chemist and apothecary." He removed the jars of preserved fruits, checking two of them and replacing the ones of strawberries and peaches, replacing them with the strips of cured ram's tongue and salted pork. "May I place one of the birds in a pot of yours, to heat in the fire?"

She moved wordlessly away from him, showing a weak limp of sore pain as she did so. Jylan watched her fetch a black iron pot with a lid and bring it to the table, and he placed the smoked meat inside before closing it. As he had said, he placed it in the hearth next to the small fire to heat up.

He heard a quiet whimper and when he looked to the bed he saw Dirthamen resting his chin on the blankets, a small hand reaching out and grasping the animal's muzzle and nose. A young child with tear-stained cheeks and messy black hair was reaching her arm out from under the blankets to touch the animal, the protective arm of an older boy wrapped around her as he pushed the blankets down off his head and showed his bruised face in the firelight.

Jylan returned to the table and reached into the bag again. This time he withdrew the small wooden box given to him by midwife Valora and slid the top off. The verdant branches, the snowdrop oil, the tonics and extracts. He selected a small, familiar ceramic jaw with a wooden top and replaced the lid on the box. He opened the jar to reveal a fragrant green jell, and carried it to where Ariyah was sitting.

"This is a poultice of elfroot and dawn lotus powder," he explained. "It will bring down the swelling and ease the pain of your injuries. I request your permission to apply it to your face while the food is warmed."

"Tell me who you are first," she told him warily, but had reclaimed her seat at the table. Her eyes spoke of more weariness than fear. "Sanjay!" She called sharply, not breaking eye-contact with Jylan. Rather, he was the one to look down instead so as not to offer offense. "Stay on that bed. Wait for your uncle to come back."

He answered her question.

"I was born Jeevan Ashera of the Gwaren Alienage, the third of your four brothers." He explained himself and reminded her of where he fit into their family. "I understand that my presence and behaviour may be unsettling to others, therefore it is necessary to inform you that I do not expect acceptance or affection. I have returned to Gwaren to acquire paid work for my skills so as to help continue to support your family. May I apply the poultice?"

She was quiet and she stared at him for several silent seconds. Finally, she looked deep into the fire and closed her eyes.

"Fine."

The mixture in the jar was very potent, that was why the Grey Wardens used it. Jylan needed only to wet his thumb with it and apply the oils sparingly before they began to work on her. She permitted him to look at her hand and it was good that her fingers were not broken, merely bruised and pulled sharply out of alignment.

"I can correct the misalignment of your fingers by applying pressure to them. It will not be painful, but will be unpleasant."

"Just- fix them." He fixed them. She cried out when he did so and fresh tears came down from her eyes, but she was able to move them again freely after that and followed his instructions to only touch the jell before applying it across her knuckles.

Samar returned to the home with pieces of a large wooden pallet taken from one of the trash piles in the alienage. He broke them apart with his knives and the heel of his boot, and threw several planks into the fire after pulling the pot out carefully and setting it on the table.

Two more children had appeared out from under the blankets. A girl a little younger than the boy, holding the soft and fussing body of a young baby in her lap. The baby had a much fairer complexion than the other children and its face was strange. A lump under the blankets was weeping softly.

The boy with the bruised face was looking at Jylan with intense hatred. His mother called him Sanjay, and Samar reached under Sanjay's arms to pull the crying, soft-limbed little girl up to his shoulder and chest, hugging her sweetly and stroking her hair.

"Let your uncle see your face, Sanjay."

"He hurt mama," the angry boy said sharply.

"He helped her and he brought you good food to eat." Samar scolded, but his voice lacked heat as he soothed the crying child on his shoulder. "He'll make your face stop hurting, boy, now go to him."

Sanjay did come to Jylan, but he did so with his thick dark brows drawn down in a hateful way. He looked at his mother, who was pulling apart the heated pheasant and stuffing its meat into chunks of the stale bread. Ariyah handed the portion to the little girl who brought her the baby, which she took into her lap because it was too young to sit up on its own. The baby was strange.

"Tahir," Ariyah called to the bed, where the blankets were still weeping. "Tahir, come and eat. There's food, aren't you hungry?"

"No-" the blankets wailed. "No- noo…" Ariyah clicked her tongue.

"Fine, don't eat…" She grumbled. "Samar, bring her here next to me. Anu?" The little girl on Samar's shoulder turned at the sound of her name.

Jylan touched the green salve with his fingertips and looked at the straight black marks on Sanjay's face. He had been struck with a belt, or a flat paddle. His hair was short and wild, and his eyes were very angry.

Before Jylan could touch him, the boy spat in his face. He shoved Jylan's shoulders and although Jylan was stronger, he had been crouching and was knocked off balance. It did not hurt to tumble backward, and he did not spill the poultice.

Samar's hand grabbed his nephew by the scruff of his dirty shirt and yanked him backwards. When the boy resisted with a snarl, Samar simply lifted him up and set him down firmly on one of the chairs around the table. He took a knee and snatched the boy's wrist away when Sanjay tried to swipe at him, and showed his teeth with a loud voice.

"That's enough."

"He hurt mama!" Sanjay yelled, and he kept yelling when Samar tried to speak. "You left and he hurt her! He made her cry! He hurt her hand and you weren't there! You didn't come back!"

"Sanjay-"

"You didn't come back!" The boy screamed it this time, and then his quivering lip and red-blushed eyes gave in to an outburst of deep, exhausted sobs. He closed his eyes with tears bubbling down his cheeks, his whole body shaking as he sat there in front of Samar and wept.

Anu and the other girl next to Ariyah both began to wail, the older one with a piece of half-chewed bread and meat just sitting in her mouth. It was a chain reaction of one child's distress bleeding over and setting off the others. Within moments, even the infant was crying against Ariyah's shoulder. She was looking across the table at Samar with a lost, exhausted look, and he was just as forlorn.

Jylan's ears were ringing with the sound of crying. He could not remember a louder noise in his life. Five crying children all sitting and screaming in one room together. They did not know him and he did not know them, he did not have the emotional capacity to sooth or comfort them, and did not know how he could possibly supply aid to either of his own siblings.

The solution Ariyah devised was not one he was comfortable with participating in. She stood up and went to him directly where he was standing in his shock. She gave him the infant.

"I cannot-"

"Just hold him."

It was warm and soft and weighty but also squirming, and screaming, and its bones were soft and its clothing was thin and damp from sweat. It was practically guaranteed that he would drop it and such a fall would kill it, which would be an intolerable reality to overcome.

He sat down on the floor to limit the possibility of dropping the baby. He set its feet on his legs, then brought it to rest against his chest and arm. It continued to cry and scream and he did not know how to sooth it. The room was a chaos of screams and tears.

That Dirthamen had begun to whine only added to the horrible noise. Jylan considered opening the front door but doing so would require either putting the infant down on the dirty floor, or carrying it that far to let the dog out. He did not know what to do, and it was Samar who spoke the dog's name and then indicated Jylan. The hound hid its face in his lap, ears pressed down flat against the noise.

Ariyah and Samar pulled the blankets off the bed, revealing the fifth child, Tahir, another boy who sat up wailing that he was cold and swiftly going as red-faced as his siblings. Ariyah climbed onto the bed with her torn skirts and sore body, and laid down. The youngest girl, Anu, was placed into her arms and drawn close to her. The next one, Raveena, was given a place to cuddle close to her stomach. Tahir needed Samar to physically drag him up from the foot of the bed where he had hidden himself, and his brother Sanjay was dropped on top of him before Samar kicked off his boots, cast his cloak off and then over his sister and nieces, and began gathering blankets up over the children. He entered the bed himself just to give the children a choice of who to cling to.

Slowly, like nails screeching down slate, the crying began to fade out. First one, then another, then another, until it was only the infant in Jylan's arms that was sobbing red-faced and scared from all the noise. Dirthamen's whines petered out and Jylan himself was numb from the horrible din.

The children had been through too much. They had been hungry, and then their father had accosted their mother, attacked their brother, and then turned again on Ariyah if not in this room then still in this house where they had been witnesses. The house had been left cold and dark and quiet in his absence, and then their mother had let a stranger into the home again while yelling and screaming with their uncle.

"Hold him properly and he'll stop." He looked up and saw Ariyah looking at him from the bed, Samar's head twisting around to look back over his shoulder at Jylan. "Have you never held a baby before?"

"No, I have never held a baby before." Samar chose to scoff at this. It was not appropriate.

"Try taking off the scary hood first," his brother suggested, then went back to trying to sooth one of the two boys in front of him, one of whom had crawled up to peer over his shoulder at the stranger holding the screaming baby. As the child's face was not bruised, he surmised it may have been Tahir.

Jylan removed his hood. He did not see how it would help. What happened was that the infant's screams withdrew to quieter, uncomfortable hums and whines of distress. His face was still red, his eyes and mouth wet from screaming. Although red and crinkled, his small eyes were blue. When Jylan touched the baby's face, he could confirm now that the child was far, far lighter in complexion than he was.

Finally, he realized why the child looked so strange.

"This is a human baby." Perhaps an elf-blooded one, but certainly: it was human.

"Better off left on the chantry steps." Ariyah's voice was disdainful, but too tired for more venom. She was kissing one of her children around the words. "If he's calm, bring him here to me."

Standing up with the infant in his arms was tedious and unsettling. It felt like every bone and organ inside the child was loose and liable to slide out of its body if handled too roughly or simply in the wrong manner. He managed to find his feet, and to cross the room, and to lean over Samar's back and let Ariyah…

She took the babe around one arm and simply took him like that, bringing him down between the other children. One of the little girls who he thought might have been Anu, reached up as a sign for the baby to fall to her. Her bother Tahir quickly squirmed over to help cradle and hold the infant between them.

"He's Saya's," Samar's voice was tired and low. "Their cousin."

"I will assume that there is a reason why the infant is here with Ariyah and not with Saya."

"So will I," Samar agreed. "Hey, there's a bit more space if we shuffle over. You can lay down."

"I will decline." With his answer, he took a small step back from the bed. "My presence would likely only serve to alarm them once again."

"That wasn't your fault." Samar meant to sooth him, but that was unnecessary.

"I did not mean to imply as much, however, my presence was still a contributing factor."

"This is your life now, get over here."

"Thank you, but no. I will remain in the room, but not crowd the bed further."

"Jeevan-"

"Samar, hush." Ariyah swiftly cut in. She was rubbing one of her son's backs gently, and the child's eyes were closed as a sign of either deep comfort or sleep. "There are still blankets on Rian's bed. Sleep in there, stranger, or bring the blankets out here and sleep on the floor."

"He's not a stranger," Samar hissed.

"He is to my children and he is to me, Samar," she countered hotly. "I didn't tell him to get out or throw his kindness back at him, I told him where to find something to sleep on. Now enough, it's too much." Samar huffed back at her, but let the matter die.

Jylan left them and explored the house. It was unfamiliar to him, he did not know anything about the layout of the rooms or where the doors led. There was one other room on this floor which had a root cellar, very empty, and then a creaky flight of stairs which led to the second floor. Here there were several bedrooms, each incredibly tiny, and one with sheets which were badly mussed and thrown about. Jylan shied away from that room to avoid the risk of encountering the distinct, meaty smell of sex.

Two of the rooms were cold and untouched. He did not know which was Rian's but pulled the thin quilt off of one and returned to the main room downstairs with it.

"One of us'll walk you to the midwife tomorrow," Samar was explaining gently, and Jylan did not hear Ariyah protest this decision. Jylan added more wood to the fire, and placed the uneaten food back into the same pot as the pheasant before covering it.

He unfastened and spread his cloak over the rushes and dust collected on the stone floor, laid down, and spread the blanket over his legs and torso. He kept his boots and belt on, there was no point in undressing as he would become very cold. Dirthamen only waited until the blanket had settled before immediately curling up next to him, head on his paws, and a tired huff announced the hound's fatigue.

They each, one by one, dropped off to sleep.

He opened his eyes slowly before dawn. The fire had burned down to glowing embers and the floor was very, very hard and uncomfortable. His back and shoulders and hips all hurt, and he felt brittle as he pushed himself up onto his knees. The room was cold when the blanket fell off his back.

Jylan brought the fire back with a few minutes of careful work. The planks from the broken crate were thin and burned down too quickly, letting off licks of black smoke which smelled foul. Although the material was not ideal, it served its function and offered both light and warmth to the room.

Jylan found a candle and holder on the mantle and took it down, lighting the wick and carrying it with him. He went into the root-cellar and looked at what was available. Most of the shelves were barren, empty meat-hooks brandishing nothing. There were only a cluster of old dusty jars with unknown contents. The dirt floor had been disturbed and never pushed back down, but he doubted the presence of additional potatoes, onions, carrots, or other root vegetables. Such cheap foodstuffs, even in winter, would not be costly to restock.

He went to the kitchen and found no food of note. A bag of flour, half empty, a jar of something that was not like corn or millet or barley, but close, with only a few cups' worth at the bottom. A piece of lard. Glass jars of varying colour and design, the most decorated items in the house: spices he did not pry into. Eight small pigeon eggs were hidden in a brown jaw, under an over-turned bowl.

It was illogical that the kitchen should be across the room from the fire, but the answer was an iron cooking stove with an attached pipe leading up through the ceiling and out of sight. Jylan knelt and opened it: the bottom had worn away and fallen out, rendering the stove useless.

There was a water pump, something unexpected in an alienage slum. Wary of waking his sister or her children, Jylan did not try the handle, but he did kneel again and open the cupboard under the sink. The pump had a split pipe leading down into the ground. It was as useless as the stove.

Someone had invested money into rebuilding this home after the devastation of the Blight, but the family had not been able, for whatever reason, to maintain it.

He would do so.

He continued his search of the house. The steps creaked but were sound. The walls were stained, but relatively solid. The beds were too small and too few for the number of children, and if the family did not have proper firewood or money for charcoal then it was clear why they chose to sleep downstairs by the main hearth, rather than try to heat every room.

He did not go into Ariyah's room, or the one he assumed was hers given the mess and reminders of violence. One of the smaller rooms he surmised as Samar's. There was a broken sextant on the chest of drawers and cold, discarded papers: a ship manifesto from several years ago, a cargo list from a ship that was not the Lady Freeborn. He did not go through the drawers or chest in the room, but took note of the window: the glass had broken and the room was both very cold and very damp. Considering the cost of glass, it may be prudent to simply board up and seal the window rather than repair it.

The next room was locked.

The last was the one he had taken the blanket from last night. The pipe from the broken kitchen stove passed through the floor and up through the ceiling. If there was an attic, Jylan did not see the place to access it from.

"There's nothing worth stealing, stranger." Ariyah was awake and about her business when Jylan returned to the main level. His sister was in her kitchen, her long black hair tied back with a strip of fabric, and her sleeves rolled up. She had the pot of untouched food from last night open in front of her and her hands were shredding one of the pheasants, ripping the cold flesh off and breaking it up smaller and smaller, removing every bone and placing them in a small pile next to her elbow. "Why are you here?"

There was a faint, misplaced scent of pipe-smoke.

"I was dismissed from my previous contract, and Samar made a compelling argument that I should seek employment here in Gwaren, closer to your family." Her hands stopped, but the only part of her that moved were her eyes.

Ariyah had very dark, very intense eyes, nearly black and yet wide even for an elven woman. The colour and size made the whites stand out sharply in contrast. She had given the same trait to her son, Sanjay.

"My family?" She repeated in a sharp voice. "Aren't you going to claim it for yourself? Make it yours? Make it sound like you belong here, just because?"

"I have not only been away from Gwaren and completely out of contact with my kin for many years, Mistress Ashera, but I was also subjected to something known as the Rite of Tranquility during my time in the Circle of Magi. I am not ignorant of the discomfort my presence can bring to others, and as I said last night: I hold no expectations of acceptance or affection."

"Then what do you want?"

He did not want anything: he was tranquil.

"To be useful, and tolerated." Her hands slowed in their labour, but did not stop again. She looked down at her work and resumed the same pace, discarding bones and keeping everything else in the pot. She took a rough breath and nodded her head to the side.

"Then go draw a bucket of water from the well. And hang that second bird in the pantry, we won't need it today." Jylan took the smoked bird from Vessa and hung it from one of the meat-hooks in the root cellar, then roused Dirthamen by moving the hound off his cloak. He pulled it on and drew the hood up over his head, fetching the bucket as Samar gave a loud yawn and stretch from the crowded bed.

"Hey- where're you-?"

"Don't stop him," Ariyah cut in. "I just told him what to do."

Jylan removed the cloth from under the door and pulled it open. It was bright and cold and crisp outside, and he waited only a moment because he heard Dirthamen's paws scrambling over the rushes to come after him. The door swung shut.

The scent of pipe-smoke was more pronounced.

Master Arainai was standing next to the front door, a long-stem pipe in one hand with soft clouds of sweet smoke curling around his nose and hand. He offered a cheeky, smoke-filled grin.

"A most pleasant morning to you, Compounder."

"That is no longer my title. Why are you here?"

"Why, I'm taking in the wonderful sights and sounds of the alienage, of course!"

"From a dirty back alley filled with trash?" It was likely that the fact that Jylan could not intone or commit emotion to his voice would increase the ludicrousy of Master Arainai's statement. He was correct: the other elf made a rough coughing noise in his throat and then gestured with his pipe for them to walk together. As Jylan did not know which way the well lay, he followed.

"I understand that there was an upset in your household last night, and I thought it prudent to linger for a while and ensure that questionable persons did not make a return." He had followed them from the ship and listened at the door.

"You are referring to my brother-in-law?"

Master Arainai stopped short, raised a hand and turned to face Jylan directly. He hesitated for a breath to select his words, and then spoke smoothly.

"Men of such nature do not deserve the distinction of family, Compounder. They are not brothers, or husbands, or fathers: they are simply parasites who feed off the pain and control of others. Put him from your mind. What were you sent out here for?" Master Arainai had killed him. Provided the murderous act was not blamed on Samar or Jylan, the matter did not require explanation to the rest of the family.

"To fetch water."

"This way then."

The alienage gates were open and there was much activity around the Vhenadahl: servants and workers and labourers all getting ready for their work day much earlier than many of their human counterparts likely needed to. Dirthamen was excited by the activity, but kept close to Jylan as they moved through the sparse tangles of workmen and washwomen. Jylan was able to draw cold, clear water from the deep well built near to the great tree and turn back with Master Arainai to find his siblings' dwelling again.

"Have you any thoughts for the funds you brought?" Master Arainai asked, both of them walking with their hoods up: Arainai because of his tattoos, Jylan because of his brand.

"Yes." And he proceeded to explain: the front door needed to be either repaired or replaced. The bottom of the iron stove and pipe for the water pump. "That so many of the components are in place implies a modest investment to have them restored. The pipe below the floor is connected to water, the stove already has a working chimney."

"You will want to verify both of those facts before you start anything." Arainai offered caution but also encouragement. "The last thing you need is to throw gold at a project only to find out that the water dried up or the chimney was sealed. But, if you are successful: the home could be quite comfortable. Have you put forward any considerations for work?"

"No. It appears that arrangements have changed drastically since Samar was last home, and as I can expect my severance pay to continue to reach Gwaren for the next few months it is not necessary that I acquire employment immediately."

"Take a few days to settle in," Arainai agreed, clapping him on the back. When the assassin fell back to vanish before reaching the home, Jylan stopped as well.

"Were you watching the house from the time Samar and I arrived until now?" He asked, pulling Arainai back to him with his words where the other elf had been mid-step in getting away from him.

"I don't think your brother is very happy about it, but yes," he admitted. "He saw me when he left to find firewood for the rest of you, but permitted me to remain when I told him there was no need for both of us to freeze outside." Jylan had not noticed.

"I do not have the authority to invite you inside, nor can I say if Ariyah will permit either of us to eat, but it is warmer within the house than on the street. If she and Samar will consent to have you, will you come inside?" Arainai touched one gloved hand to his chest.

"Compounder, I am touched." It was unclear whether he meant this statement as sarcasm or not. His voice carried playfully with high and low tones, but his eyes betrayed surprise. "Perhaps in a few days' time. The children already must deal with one hooded stranger in their midst, best not to alarm them with one more." That was a reasonable expectation, and Jylan nodded to show his understanding.

Master Arainai lingered in his place for a few moments more, and Jylan turned away to continue back to the house.