2

II

Ioanne was practically exhausted.

"Tell me again why we had to stop in the heart of the Grey Forest?"

"So that the authorities searching its edges wouldn't stumble upon us and arrest us," Joslyn replied a second time. Every now and then he glanced at his companion, pinching the tip of his nose in worry. The entire way, the long-haired Seeladon woman staggered, her head spinning, and her coughing fits intensified.

"Besides," he added, seeing that this wasn't enough to convince her, "the fog inside is thinner than at the edge of the forest."

"You know I didn't notice?" she muttered, and Joslyn flinched. Ioan in a sarcastic mood never boded well.

The Bertraamian fell silent and concentrated on slowly marching straight south. He turned a blind eye to Ioanne's difficulties and closed his ears to her curses, knowing that if he tried to help her, he would likely be treated to something very unpleasant and have to nurse his wounds for the next few weeks. He walked in silence, occasionally kicking a pebble or smiling at Okashi, who ran beside him. The entire journey was rather monotonous, broken only by Ioan's increasingly frequent coughing and shortness of breath. Once, around noon, they stopped for a short meal, but otherwise did nothing but walk, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. As the kilometers passed, Ioanne lost all desire to talk, and the fog around them thickened. At moments like these, Joslyn truly was glad he had been born a Bertraamian.

The forest was vast. Towering trees with thick networks of branches almost completely blocked out any sunlight that might penetrate, and a misty, damp landscape dominated the landscape, regardless of whether it was scorching heat or a blizzard. Lacking light and living conditions, the forest floor was sparse, mostly covered with dry soil, occasionally gleaming with sparse tufts of moss that grew in the damper areas.

The inhabitants of Seeladon generally avoided these areas because of the milky mist that hung in the air. Few could survive the air as dense as that of Hoarywood, and none were certainly at their peak during such a visit. The Windlords' nation was characterized by a frustrating weakness: they perished irreversibly without contact with crystal-clear air, and any industrial fumes or magical mists were a mortal threat to them. For this very reason, there were few Seeladonian tourists in Bertraam.

Their destination was the La Faérie theater, a Seeladonian cultural center renowned throughout Gemn, situated a stone's throw from the capital, on a hill called Violet Hill. Ioan hadn't revealed a word about the theater itself, but Joslyn had known her for so long that he could easily deduce that it must have been a truly spectacular place. Otherwise, Ioan wouldn't have been so excited by the prospect of visiting it. He also knew that the task she was about to perform within the theater's walls definitely didn't thrill her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a lone arrow with a red fletching in her quiver. This ill-fated arrow contrasted with the rest of its kind, whose feathers were gray and black. He sighed heavily, but said nothing. He knew better than to broach the subject.

He didn't like the fact that Ioan so blindly followed the orders of the Elders, but it wasn't his place to judge. True, he and Ioan had known each other for two years, and had been a couple for eighteen months, but he still didn't feel responsible for her choices. It had been her choice to join the Seeladonian army, even though, strictly speaking, as a woman, she should have stayed away from any kind of military service.

It was hard to dissuade her once she'd made up her mind. And a place in her homeland's army had become, so to speak, her life's goal. It was a shame, then, that she hadn't been assigned to any.

After all, he thought bitterly, it was no wonder; she was a woman. No officer would want some weak woman in their army.

Sometimes he still wondered at night how she'd managed to join the army in the first place. Unfortunately, his imagination proved insufficiently fertile at such moments, and Ioan stubbornly held her tongue whenever he mentioned it.

He could only guess that it must have had something to do with her remarkable powers of observation and the fact that she was cunning and scrupulous enough to resort to blackmail and slander. He simply couldn't see any other way out.

"You know what I'm wondering about?" she asked suddenly, out of the blue. "What?

" "What?

" "What did this woman have to do to deserve such a fate?"

He turned his head toward her, surprised.

"You said she was carrying information from Bertraam to a base in the Rocky Mountains... Is that some kind of cover-up?

" "I don't think so." She shook her head, a few snow-white curls falling across her face. "But I don't rule it out. I think it was only part of her fault. Who orders someone executed for something like that?"

"You know the Elders," he muttered sarcastically, "they do everything civilized people don't.

" "Yes," she laughed dryly. "You're right. But you know what? I think she was onto something. She must be very worldly and influential, so she probably whispered the wrong things to the wrong people."

Joslyn had to agree. When it came to war strategy, Ioan was the undeniable master. The Elders didn't know this, but they probably didn't want to know either. No one would dare put a woman in such an important position as military strategist. It was no wonder, then, that Ioanne had remained where she started for four years, doing the dirty work for the other soldiers.

To his immense relief, the forest began to thin, and the fog was no longer so oppressive. A smile spread across Ioan's lips, and Joslyn brightened as well, seeing her radiant face. Okashi barked from under their feet and ran forward, wagging his red tail happily.

I have the impression he's the only one happy about the end of this journey," Ioan remarked, her smile fading. Taking a deep breath, she unslung her bow and quiver. "Now we have to be careful… Knowing life and Randerwound, there's probably a whole bunch of people hanging around the Hill at this hour. All sorts of people, including law enforcement. It's best to keep a low profile, or they won't remember us and won't connect us with what we're about to do."

She handed the weapon to Joslyn, who looked at her in surprise.

"Take it," she said tiredly, "it's bad enough I'm wearing trousers, but it's definitely better if I don't have a weapon."

With that, she adjusted the clasp of her cloak and flung her long, white braid over her shoulder.

"Are you coming?"

Joslyn nodded, wordlessly throwing both the quiver and the bow onto her back, a bit clumsily, as he'd never used such weapons in his life.

They emerged from the forest, pushing through all manner of thorny thickets and fighting for a clear path with the vicious bushes. The sun was already setting, and the sky was beginning to gray. Joslyn did some mental calculations and realized with irritation that the spectacle must have already begun. This development was very inconvenient for them, as it was much harder to slip unnoticed through an empty meadow than through a crowd of several thousand. A deep sigh to his right told him that Ioan shared his opinion. "

Looks like we're going to blend in like hell," she muttered under her breath, and without waiting for a reply, she ran as fast as she could toward the stone amphitheater on the hill.

Joslyn ran after her, feeling uneasy with the added burden on his shoulders. He mentally concocted various bizarre excuses that would somehow shield them from suspicion. Not much else came to mind, so he quickly gave up.

Halfway between the forest and the stone structure rising at the summit, his quiver accidentally became entangled in the material of his cloak. Unwilling to stop, he slowed, struggling in vain with the weight on his back and trying to get his cloak back into working order. Running, his eyes fixed over his right shoulder, he missed a stone protruding from the grass and tripped. He fell to the ground like a log, painfully cutting his knees and tearing the fabric of his trousers. Gasping and cursing under his breath, he rose to his feet on his raw, bloody hands and spat on the sharp stones scattered around him. And suddenly, a shock struck him. In a split second, he understood why the hill had been named Violet Hill, and he had a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

The grass was bright purple.

Instead of the dark green he'd expected, he was met with a sweet, violet hue stretching as far as the eye could see. Laughing softly, he shook his head and stood, brushing bits of purple grass from his ruffled pant legs. Without hesitation, he headed straight up, unslinging his quiver from his back and carrying it in his hands.

Ioan was waiting for him by the white walls, disapproval clearly etched on her face.

"What were you doing, admiring the scenery? There's no time for that!

" "I know, I know," he agreed, running a hand through his chin-length red hair. "But what can I do about it being so original here?"

The archer's face darkened even more, frowning at his mocking smile. Without another word, she turned abruptly and walked briskly along the walls. Less than a minute later, Joslyn saw a pair of closed oak doors.

"You want to come in this way…?" "He asked in disbelief, staring at the brass padlock hanging beside it.

"Sure, what were you thinking?"

With that, she walked to the door and, taking the padlock in one hand, placed the other on its surface. Joslyn stared at her, eyes wide, silently observing as the invisible air began to vibrate around her fingers and turn silver. Ioan's wind easily penetrated the padlock, and the Bertraam man heard a dull click.

"Oh, right, I forgot. Ioanne de Ventus's bottomless pit of talents, wasn't it?" he muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling admiringly.

A moment later, the door swung open, and Ioan disappeared behind it without a word of explanation. Joslyn sighed.

"Stay and wait," he ordered Okashi, who looked at him sadly and squealed, wagging his tail hopefully.

He ignored him, closing the door behind him and running up the stairs as quietly as possible. The stairwell was unlit, so Joslyn ran cautiously, his right hand gripping the banister tightly. Somewhere above him, he heard Ioan's light footsteps and the sound of her quickened breathing. He smiled in the darkness.

"How do you know all these secret passages?" he asked cheerfully as they reached the stone terrace, and below them stretched the view of a semicircular amphitheater with an audience filled with a rabble of colorful people.

"I have my secrets," she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously, and she tossed her braid back, lifting her chin. Joslyn laughed at the sight of her once again, fully recovered, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, linking her hands behind his neck, smiling half-playfully, half-mockingly. After a moment, however, her face took on a serious expression.

"Sometimes I wonder what you see in me," she said bitterly. "In me, a cold-blooded murderer who blindly follows the orders of her superiors for some foolish cause.

" For a moment he was surprised by her awareness of her own mistakes and the dark sides of her actions, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. He knew full well that it had taken him a lifetime and more to get to know her thoroughly, so basically, nothing in her behavior or actions should surprise him anymore. Instead of worrying about such trivialities, he tilted his head slightly to the right and, with a smile on his lips, replied confidently.

"Everyone has their flaws."

Hearing him, Ioan burst into a hearty laugh, and he joined her, closing the distance between them so that soon the Seeladon woman was laughing into the fabric of his coat.

"You know I'm about to commit another crime?" "She asked quietly from beneath the folds of his clothing, and Joslyn nodded and rested his chin on the top of her head, unceremoniously inhaling the scent of her hair.

"And you know, surely, that this won't be the last, and there will be others, and I will carry out each one?"

Joslyn nodded again, already knowing her words by heart, having heard them every time she had to shoot a traitor or spy from hiding. Therefore, he wasn't at all surprised by her next, weakly spoken question.

"And despite all this, you still claim to love me?

" "Of course," he replied, as he did every time. He held her tighter to him, and, knowing she had begun to smile, began to look around with hungry curiosity.

From this height, he could see the entire area. Looking directly north, he could see two other hills, which he recognized as St. Halmond's Mount on the left and Limbs Hill on the right. Down below, at the foot of the hill on which the theater stood, the Gray Forest grew peacefully, looking even gloomier from here than from its very center. Huge trees with dense canopies swayed in the westerly wind, surrounding Violet Hill on almost every side. Straining his eyes, he saw the beach of the Wahakan Peninsula far to the east and the turbulent waters of the Bertraam Ocean. Looking back, Randerwound appeared in all its glory, with its vast, square apartment buildings, wide streets, and high walls surrounding the entire city. He longed to visit it, yet knew it would be impossible. Ioan had received express orders to flee Randerwound and its surroundings and head for Vihara, passing through Paeonia and Shibai. She was to stay at one of the inns there and wait until the Elders had another assignment for her.

"Why can't those bastards from the Elders transfer me? And why should I kill only women? There are so many warriors in the entire army…"

He didn't answer, inhaling the scent of her hair. And that moment usually came, and Joslyn knew him like the back of her hand. Sometimes he just wondered why she complained so much about something she didn't want to change. There were times when it weighed on him, but the moments of doubt passed as quickly as a gnat's life.

"But no," she muttered bitterly, "they have their honors. It's not fitting for a proud Seeladon warrior to stoop to killing women! And yet we're better than them all!"

He nodded, as he always did. He felt his behavior gave Ioan a sense of security—something she was certain of, something she could always expect. He wanted to see her smiling more often, so he dove headfirst into everything he could to make that happen, and from his observations, it was precisely this kind of security and a sure return home after a hard day that filled her with the greatest happiness.

"And what now?" she asked suddenly, her voice muffled by his jacket and coat.

"And now… Now we wait."