Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Fifteen: Compromise

Fykes much preferred entering Hearth-Home with teleportation over the stressful game of waiting at the gates in disguise, though he could not say he was glad to be back in the city using either method of entrance.

Katerin's face spoke of her dour mood, and she had made it a point to voice her intentions of visiting the Tower. Or whatever was left of it.

He, for one, was certain there were more pressing places to be, but she needed to see it and she needed to get Kindra, Spindle, and Gracie out of the city. Hearth-Home had changed much since their last visit. The Boars' Backstrap was now closed, and there were not people in the streets, other than those who had no choice but to venture out. The cobbled stone roads felt more like a battlefield than an urban sanctuary, and they were beginning to pock from lack of care. They did not have any snow upon them though. Katerin had explained that all the roads of the city were enchanted to stay warm enough not to freeze.

Now, Fykes sat at an empty table, and waited for Katerin to return from her talk with Spindle and Gracie. It was only the two of them, today. Arjiah and Brazen were back in O'siaris, preparing travel supplies for whatever they choose to do next. Whether that be chasing Kryrial's armies, or the dragon himself. Absently, Fykes wondered how they might get to Kryrial, and how they might survive it.

Katerin emerged from the back room and made her way to him with a confidence in her steps. "They are going to gather their things and be here at sunset."

"So, now we're off to find an angry blonde?"

Katerin snorted out a laugh that made her nose wrinkle. "We'll start at all the taverns and hope they don't point to the jail. And... I need to make a detour."

Fykes held in his sigh and nodded. If she wanted to be persistent, he would not get in her way. Even if he thought it would only cause her pain.

Once she had her disguise in place, they began the delicate game of avoiding all the soldiers in the streets. This time, she had prepared not only a magical disguise, but a wig as well. So that if one should fail, she would not look so close to herself.

Though all the posters on doorways and notice boards still showed a woman with long, waving hair. Katerin's hair was neither long nor waving, now. Fykes thought the short hair made her look a little fiercer than before. It made the points of her cheeks and ears stand out. And he no longer accidentally pulled on her hair in the middle of the night, while trying to find a comfortable way to sleep. She did not seem to like it all that much, though, so he hoped it would grow back quickly for her sake.

They ducked between alleys, or took the long way around the groups of soldiers on patrol. And when they could not avoid the crimson plate armors, they linked hands and walked as cautiously as they could. In the half an hour it took them to reach the hill that led to the Tower, no one stopped them. But Fykes shoulders never relaxed, and he regretted not wearing his sword. He had a knife, of course, hidden against his back. But a knife against a long-sword or twelve was going to be a challenge.

One he did not quite feel up to today.

Katerin's steps faltered as she stared up the hill. Last time Fykes had seen it, there had been a grand structure. Now, nothing was visible over the road's crest.

As Katerin began charging forward, Fykes cleared his throat. He had seen the telltale sign of crimson armor moving atop the hill. "We can't go in," he said.

"I won't," Katerin said, though she did not look at him and he knew she was only avoiding the topic.

They strolled to the top of the hill, and he heard Katerin gasp.