Reflections Of The Sun/Part 4

Behind Concluding Emollient trailed his shadow. Reflection was that shadow, and while he lacked his mentor’s strength and skill, he had his own uses. He knew much of the dark, of the twists of the wrists and of knowing the why of all things that once occurred.

Reflection was mortal, yet he’d spent most of his life the hostage of a Demon Ghost, his body used to kill. The remnants of that possession were still with him. The swiftness of his motions, the strength of his arms and the sturdiness of his body, even without exercise. His instinctive ability to hide and maneuver better than any mortal he had ever met. And his eyes.

Reflection had studied his own reflection for long periods of time. He had missed growing up, had missed everything from the time he was a child to his adulthood now. His face was a stranger to him, but nothing more strange than his eyes. Perfect mirrors they were, reflecting what he saw to those who could see. In a mirror, Reflection could meet his own eyes and stare into an infinity of rooms, and infinity of possibilities. For by careful scrutiny, Reflection was able to see himself reflected infinitely smaller…and yet each Reflection was subtly different. A hand where his wasn’t. A scar that he did not have.

He did not understand it, nor did it matter to him. He had no home but Yu-Shun, no family but Concluding Emollient, no purpose but the Sidereal’s, no passion but serving his mentor.

It had been a long process learning to move again on his own. Concluding Emollient’s patience was inexhaustible though, and gradually Reflection realized how much the Demon Ghost did he could still do. Yet he had no purpose.

Reflection had been the Perfect Mirror Demon for so long, the only purpose he had known was finding and destroying Concluding Emollient. Now that he was free and obligated to Concluding Emollient, that was not possible but he had nothing to replace it with. If the Sidereal had not reminded him to eat and drink daily, he might have perished from negligence before realizing that in some matters, he had to relearn how to take initiative.

Then, the Sidereal had begun to reveal some of his plans. His purpose. And Reflection realized that he could help the old man who had been so helpful to him. He had skills and they could be of use in this work. When it came down to it, did he have any other reason to exist?

So, he followed his mentor. Did as he ordered. Sometimes he cooked, though he had always been better at hunting and preparing wild game and vegetables than preparing fine meals. Sometimes he went about through the crowds, unnoticed beneath his hood and his traveler’s robes, learning what he could.

And sometimes, he studied a place where something had occurred and he learned the truth of it. This was not something the Demon Ghost had taught him, though he had learned much by watching what the Demon Ghost watched. Rather, he found that years and years of doing nothing but observing had made many details that escaped the notice of most very obvious to him. He could not read people’s faces, for he had seen them rarely, and only fear had he ever seen then. But he knew much of wood and stone and dirt.

That is what Concluding Emollient required of him this day. The Sidereal stopped and gestured toward a building seen distantly. “That is the Defiant Dragon. A travelers Inn that also serves a refuge for the Seven Style Guild, at this point a dying underground resistance movement resisting the Guild’s incursions into this city’s market. An hour from now, a hired assassin of theirs will attempt to kill the Duke of this city, to frame the Guild for it. I am going to prevent this, as this is not what is to be. What I require of you is to travel to the Inn, learn how this assassin entered this city and make certain there are no other surprises. Destiny has been twisting in our hands this day, in ways it should not. Be careful, be swift about your work, and remember that you are mortal. Should you encounter an Exalt or a Spirit, leave at once and return to Gidarik. May the Maidens smile upon you.”

His mentor turned and vanished into the crowd. Reflection did not attempt to watch him go or follow him, for he had his orders.

Reflection arrived at the Inn and entered. In his simple robes, he attracted no attention and he took pains to make certain he had remained in place long enough to be unnoticed when he did decide to explore. In the meantime, he discerned that this Inn did in fact serve a number of travelers and he purchased a beer, while waiting for anonymity to settle in. He lacked his mentor’s gift at passing unnoticed, but there were ways for a mortal to go without comment by another.

While he waited, he realized that this Inn had very effective security, as the tables and benches were neither easily replaceable nor marked up as more permanent furnishings tended to be, which suggested very little fighting ever occurred. No stains marred the floorboards, though there was most definitely a basement underneath judging by the sound of boots treading upon them. No concealed trapdoor on the floor, and none on the walls, though the ceiling was sufficiently indistinct from this vantage point to be certain. He could tell little by facial expression, but the hired help moved around the room in familiar patterns, suggesting long-term employment. Very few regulars judging by small signs of unfamiliarity with this place shown in the slightest shifts in body posture and positioning in terms of seating arrangements, purchasing food and drink, or the asking of questions.

At last, he stood up and made his way across the room to a side corridor, leading off to private rooms and an outhouse out back. He moved down the corridor, head bowed, unnoticed by any in spite of his slow gait. Hopefully others would mistake him for an old man if they didn’t look too closely.

The traffic was heavy enough to necessitate him returning from the outhouse, purchasing another beer, and visiting again, in order to be certain that there was nothing concealed or hidden along the side corridor either. The outhouse was likewise unremarkable.

This required him to be riskier. When he finished at the outhouse his second time, he made sure of a pause in the flow of traffic and crept around the side of the Inn. Knowing the interior common room, and the rough size of a private room he had glanced into while walking the side corridor, allowed him to extrapolate the rest of the Inn, since many such traveler’s Inns had uniform construction to facilitate swift building. Sure enough, the Inn was slightly too long, suggesting there was a bit of a gap between at least one set of rooms.

He could return to the interior and attempt to determine where it lay, but it was too difficult in the passageway to do so without being noticed. It was also less likely that a concealed entrance to the basement would be on the first floor where traffic was heavier and discovery more certain. That suggested the second floor, where sleeping rooms were. Again, logic suggested that somewhere closer to the office side of the second floor would be more likely than the sleeping rooms. As the office was positioned immediately next to the common room, that would suggest a passage built into the separator between a private room and the common room. A wise location, as it allowed for the possibility of creaking wood as well as incautious users of the hidden passage, to be hidden beneath the traffic of the common room.

He waited for 20 minutes, hidden in the dark, waiting for the local traffic to subside enough at any point to allow him a climb up without notice. At the end of 20 minutes, one arrived and he took it. The walls were wooden panels, tightly fitted together, but the rough surface and considerable use of his strength to maintain enough tension to keep him on the wall was sufficient to allow a climb. As swiftly as he could without being noisy, he crawled up the Inn’s wall, up toward the roof until he reached a window.

Reflection paused at the window, glanced in, and saw no one immediately present. As entering through a window would diminish the risk of this activity, given the alternative was the roof and another window, he chose to take it. The window opened with surprisingly little sound and he entered, shutting the window behind him.

The private sleeping room was small but well appointed. He spent a minute making certain it contained nothing concealed worth his notice. The small sum of money someone had left hidden underneath the table was left untouched, as it was not relevant to his investigation.

Moving out of the room, he listened carefully and judged his swift steps toward the office so that no one could either hear or see him. The office was unfortunately occupied, and given his mentor’s instructions to be swift, his options were few. He couldn’t wait for the occupant to leave now, not and be sure to allow enough time to gather the evidence he needed before the assassin succeeded or failed and word returned to this place.

His reactive training from his Sidereal mentor had always focused on the swift resolution of any conflict. While several kinds of philosophies girded many approaches to resolving these kinds of problems, Concluding Emollient had felt that Reflection’s ability to observe and react without thought fit in nicely with one school and he had focused his efforts on concentrating that tendency. The result was Reflection’s current approach.

He opened the door and walked in. The office was a well-appointed room with several tables, all covered in papers and ledgers, as well a richly finished oak desk, many well-upholstered chairs, a comfortable couch against the back wall, attractive if inexpensive paintings, and even a rather fine rug. For a traveler’s Inn, this office was a bit luxurious.

The man seated at the desk was less so. Almost completely bald, he was heavyset and aging, clad in a long-sleeved tunic with a leather vest, matching cloth trousers and a pair of sandals. The cloth was of good quality, yet woven for hard wear, suggesting this owner was likely interactive with those who came here and did more than sit in this office working on ledgers as he did now. The sandals, though, suggested at a man who spent almost all of his time somewhere in the confines of this Inn. A set of boots next to the desk was probably for going about on errands, but the good condition and traces of mud still on them despite the rainy season having passed weeks ago hinted that they saw little use. He wore no wedding earring, which was the common signifier of marriage in these lands.

A simple man to explain, though not one to underestimate. He clearly lived well but, despite his heaviness, much of that could be muscle. He was also clearly successful. That he didn’t leave the Inn often hinted that he did not often need to. He probably had enough arrangements with others to do the work for him, and it would seem that he had the resources to afford such. This could be a very successful Inn. Or he could be receiving some monetary assistance from the Six Style guild.

Reflection approached the man. The owner looked up by the time Reflection reached his side. The older man’s face squinted as he realized he didn’t know this stranger and Reflection grabbed him by the vest, hauled him out of the chair and, with a grunt of effort at the weight, lifted the man and slammed him down on the ground. The owner struggled a moment…and then he saw Reflection’s eyes. He gasped and made a futile sign of warding.

“White Maiden Bliss, reward me for my devotion and deliver me into a paradise in the next life,” the business man murmured feverishly, eyes clenched shut, obviously expecting to die.

“You have one opportunity to survive with your soul intact, Innkeep,” Reflection said. He was not the Perfect Mirror Demon and would never have done the things the Demon Ghost had done, but he accepted his past destiny and what was. He could not change what he had been or what his eyes were, and so he capitalized on it when the occasion arose. And he would trust in Concluding Emollient to either rub away the memory of this mortal if he saw fit or to let it be, leaving the Innkeep with a story he might tell for years to come. It was of no matter whatsoever to Reflection. He had his orders.

“Spare me and all that I have is yours, Perfect Mirror Demon,” the Innkeep said, his voice thick with strain.

“Leave this room and do not return for a day, but tell all you know that the Six Styles Guild is sentenced for destruction. If the guild does not disband, I will kill every single remaining guild member starting with the least among them until they have all passed into the underworld. And then I will start again with the least’s family, until every relative of every member is dead. Do you understand me? Nod your head if you do.”

“Yes, yes, I understand!” sputtered the Innkeep, bobbing his head frantically. “We didn’t know the Guild had the Perfect Mirror Demon on their side or we would never have stood against them!”

“I do not serve the Guild, Innkeep,” Reflection said. “Their time for destruction will come as well, but I wish them greater so that their dissolution is greater. You interfere with my plans and so all of you will die if you do not cease to be. Go. Now.”

Reflection released the man and stood in one fluid motion, stepping to the side as the Innkeep scrambled to his feet. Without looking back, the heavy man bounded out the door, looking far more spry than he should. Just as well then. Reflection knew many artful methods for fighting, but the prospect of fighting a heaver and stronger Innkeep in surprisingly good shape had been an unpleasant one. He had his orders and possible injury could only interfere with his performance of his orders.

Besides, he accomplished the spirit of his orders. Concluding Emollient told him that it was time for this Six Styles guild to come to an end, but due to a snag in destiny, the guild was trying to escape what was destined for it. It had to end and allowing the assassination of the Duke would severely complicate the Tapestry’s outcome for this region. Concluding Emollient was seeing to it that the assassination would fail, but Reflection had been in a position to further hasten the guild’s descent into dissolution and so he had taken advantage of it. The Maidens willing, it would help smooth out the snag.

Shutting the door, Reflection moved quickly. He set one of the chairs under the door handle, to block those attempting entrance. Stepping to the table, he flipped through all the documents and ledgers as fast as he could. He did not get the sense of them, but he knew he would have the memory of them to offer Concluding Emollient later. It had been a very simple thing for Concluding Emollient to teach him the Masterful Perfection of Thought Technique, a method for remembering everything he wished in its exactness. Many times had it been of use to him.

Finishing within minutes, he heard no sign of activity outside of the room. Good. His intimidation of the Innkeep had been successful. He could search for the passageway and anything else out of the ordinary without trouble.

Reflection moved about, searching every piece of furniture without finding anything of use beyond more concealed money. The paintings hid nothing but moving the couch revealed a sideways door, the length of the whole couch and the height of it. He found a cleverly concealed jar of plaster tucked into the back of the couch and hidden beneath the swath of fabric and that plaster was apparently used to mask the outlines of the door ordinarily. Today, though, the outline was quite visible. This suggested that it had already been used once today and either the Innkeep had not taken care to conceal it again or he was expecting it to be used again. The meticulous writing of the ledgers suggested the second option was more likely than the first.

There was no door handle, but it was apparently hinged on the top as enough pressure applied to the base of the door caused it to swing up slightly. Reflection felt no unusual tension on the spring nor could he see any object, rope or device beyond which made him as certain as he could be that this door was not trapped.

He slipped in under the door way, reached back out, pulled the couch back to the door, and allowed it to close. From this side, he was now in the concealed passageway, a set of stairs leading from this landing straight down in a very narrow fashion. The wood here was rough and unfinished, but sufficiently well maintained that hardly a squeak sounded when Reflection shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Before proceeding down, Reflection bent and studied the floor. As was common in cases like these, the housecleaning staff had no knowledge that this passageway existed. Since those using it were apparently accustomed to servants taking care of dust, and since they were disinclined to do so themselves, dust remained here. That was a great aid.

Many footprints marred the dust. As he studied each step and proceeded down to the next, Reflection learned more. Half way down, he knew that eight people used this passage regularly, two more infrequently, one person had gone down and come back up in the last day and one person…was still down there. He spent the last half of the trip down confirming that. So, one remained below. He would have to be careful.

Coming to the end, Reflection found a wooden door. He checked and found nothing that would suggest a hidden snare. Opening the door made no sound, as the hinges were kept well oiled, something he approved of.

The interior was a small room with a broad table and eight chairs, confirming his initial observation that eight came here regularly. The table was covered with maps and documents that showed everything from illegal actions taken to slow the Guild’s growth here to the assassination plot on the Duke. Several cots were placed in the back of the room, with blankets piled atop. One of them was still occupied but the sleeper slept and so was of little concern to Reflection who had years ago learned to not make a sound if he did not wish it.

Careful perusal of the documents gave him more than enough information to give Concluding Emollient what he needed to see that this guild never operated again. Only one matter remained of concern; that the plans called for two assassins, one to make the attempt and the other to remain as backup to try again if the first failed. It seemed as though the guild had acquired the services of several of the Forest Witches in this endeavor…which could mean that the assassins, both of them…were Dragon-Blooded.

Reflection was not a Sidereal. He had no talent with reading the future or knowing if destiny was being tampered with. It still seemed improbably coincidental that it was at that moment that a man leaped out of the cot as wind rushed through the room toward the cot. The Dragon-Blood was not a Dynast clearly, instead draped in the common garb of a laborer. Most likely a disguise given the proud nature of the Princes of the Earth. This one’s skin though had the slight hue of brown bark and his brown hair had a greenish cast to it. Most likely this one was Aspected to Wood and probably boasted Charms to conceal himself, as he could pass as a commoner only with difficulty otherwise.

The Exalt had bolted straight out of the cot and now stood there, as if listening to a message. An Air-Aspected Charm, Reflection remembered from his briefing on the capabilities of the Terrestrial. And then the Forest Witch saw him, even as Reflection had shifted back into the shadows without making a sound.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Witch spoke, in a strangely accented voice.

“I’m sent to see to your needs by the Innkeep,” Reflection answered. He was hardly surprised that the Witch reached under his cot and drew a jade Daiklave. Deception was based on knowing how to act, and Reflection had spent so many years without control over his body that Concluding Emollient had decided it was more trouble than it was worth trying to teach the tricks of deceit to his protégé. Reflection did not mind, for he did not favor deception himself, but there were times such as now when talent would have made the mission easier.

Reflection was not stupid. He ran for the door, throwing it open and bolting up the stairs. The Witch came roaring after him, thundering up the steps, showing little regard for his employer’s wish for privacy and security regarding this passage. Reflection did not bother to hide the sound of his steps either but instead concentrated on running up the stairs as hard and fast as he could. He was in superb physical condition, the only blessing the Demon Ghost had left him, and few mortals could keep his pace but the Witch was an Exalt. Reflection at best could keep this pace up for a half an hour, giving it his all. The Dragon-Blooded would never weary in such a short time and then he would have Reflection.

Thankfully, the stairs did not take half an hour to climb but something in the matter of seconds. Reflection did not hesitate but dived at the sideways door. He hit the wooden panel hard enough that the hinges broke on top and he went sprawling out into the office room, getting briefly tangled in the couch before simply shoving the whole couch off of him. Lying on his back, he jerked himself to his feet by swinging his feet above his head and flipping himself backward into a standing position. It was a close thing, as the jade Daiklaive cut through the wall and sliced into the floor where his body had just been lying. The Dragon-blooded ignored the hatch and just smashed through the wall.

Reflection had two options, neither pleasant. He could risk the hallway, where the Dragon-Blooded’s greater fortitude and possibly greater speed could mean getting cut down before he ever reached the ground…or he could dive out the window. A fall from this height would hurt and he would pay the price for the next several days, but ultimately he could survive it with little difficulty. The Prince of the Earth was Wood-Aspected, though. From the information Concluding Emollient had provided him, that meant they possessed considerable athletic prowess. Such a fall would not bother this Dragon-Blood in the least.

Reflection chose the option more likely to help him survive; the fall. Hopefully, the public setting would deter the assassin.

This contemplation occurred in the fraction of a second and as the Witch brushed the wood from his shirt, leveling his Daiklave, Reflection raced for the office window and jumped right through it. Breaking glass cut his forearms as he used them to lead his body out. He was spinning down through the air. With trained reflexes developed by 14 years of his body being used by a Solar who knew what he was doing, Reflection twisted and hit the ground in a roll.

It hurt. But nothing broke. Even as the Prince leapt through the window after him, Reflection was already back on his feet and sprinting for his life. He had to reach Gidarik, the Little God who served Concluding Emollient. He had to get out, before the Exalt caught him.

Reflection was an amazing runner. As a child, he’d been swift. The years as the Perfect Mirror Demon had made him much, much faster even without his own Essence to enhance himself. The Witch ran for all his worth…but couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t for lack of stamina but he simply was not as fast as Reflection was.

Until flame sprouted from the Wood-Aspect’s feet and suddenly he started gaining at a tremendous rate. Reflection knew he was in trouble. Mortals who went up against an Exalt died. Fast and strong as he was, he was hardly a match for something like the Witch.

But flight was not an option. And so Reflection chose the path Lark had taken years ago, to stop and fight. Only unlike poor Lark, Reflection knew what he was doing.

It happened in the flash of an instant. Reflection estimated the rate at which the Terrestrial was gaining on him and chose. An old post, perhaps for a First-Age lamp, stood out on the side of the crowded street. And as he passed it, he caught it in his grip and spun himself completely around. Moving with nearly his same momentum, he was upon the Dragon-blood before the Wood-Aspect even realized it enough to lift his sword. Reflection’s other arm swung out at neck height and as they passed each other, Reflection slammed into the assassin’s neck. His shoulder jerked hard and he gritted his teeth against the strain but the Exalt was hit so hard that his feet went flying out from under him and he sailed down the street, crashing against the brick wall of a building and actually crumbling the stone.

Gasps went up from around him and Reflection saw too many people gawking to break through before the Exalt recovered his feet. Instead, he jumped onto a wagon, jumped onto its railing, ran along it and leaped. His fingers caught the edge of a rooftop and, with a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up.

Hopefully, that would elude the Exalt. Now, to return to Gidarik.

Reflection raced across the roof but before he could go further, the building shuddered as the Witch landed behind him. Reflection stopped. And turned, to face the Exalt.

“I’m not letting you escape. You’re dying today, you little Guild spy, for what you’ve already seen. You’ve shown remarkable courage and luck to have gotten this far, but unless the strength of the Dragons runs in your veins, you have no chance to survive.”

“Your cause is doomed, Prince of the Earth,” Reflection replied. “It has already come to be. The Six Styles guild will be no more. Your employer is undone. You should retreat now, with what you have, rather than make your escape that much more improbable.”

“You speak like an Immaculate,” the Witch sneered. “But if you had the strength of the Dragons, you would already have used it. Or you would have escaped me already. That you have done neither shows you for the weak mortal you are. Kneel and I’ll kill you quickly. Run, and I’ll cut you apart slowly.”

Reflection was mortal but he was well trained. He knew that the Dragon Blooded had Charms that would their attacks irresistible by anything short of every ounce of evasion he possessed. He could not afford to assault the Exalt. Instead, he would have to turn the assassin’s own strength against him.

Fast as a shaft of bamboo’s growth in a single day, the Wood-Aspect was upon him. The Daiklave cut the air over and over again and each time Reflection threw himself to the side, spinning, flipping and rolling to dodge each attack. He hoped Concluding Emollient would see his destiny and know that his protégé was in danger of death, but if the Chosen of Endings was not here, he could not be. Or he did not need to be…

The sword sliced the air. Much as the Perfect Mirror Demon had once done, Reflection caught the Dragon-blood’s sword arm and yanked with all his strength. The momentum of the swing combined with Reflection’s own might and the Dragon-Blooded went tumbling through the air to crash against the rooftop. The wooden slats shattered under the force of the impact and the Witch almost went through the roof.

Reflection charged the Witch, even as the Exalt snarled and pulled himself out of the roof. His leg muscles bunched and Reflection jumped as the assassin stood and swung his sword to slice him across the chest. The once-Perfect Mirror Demon cleared the sword’s swing and parted his legs as he reached the Exalt. Around his head they went and Reflection had snagged the Witch around his throat with his legs.

He hunched down as his momentum carried him further and he dropped toward the ground, hands reaching for the wooden slats. With his legs pinioning the Witch’s head, the assassin’s body jerked backward from Reflection’s weight…until Reflection’s hands met the slats and he found purchase.

Reflection gritted his teeth and pulled with every mote of strength, willpower and muscle he had in his entire body. His frame trembled under the stress and he felt several muscles pull and tear across himself…but his lower body came up into a handstand, his legs pulling the Witch off his feet and up into the air as well. With what strength he had left, Reflection completed the motion and flipped himself forward, legs releasing the Exalt at the opportune moment.

The result was perfect. His legs hurled the Witch in the direction Reflection had been going even as Reflection completed what had basically been a flip for him with a Dragon-Blooded as a passenger. The Exalt flew over the roof, across the street, and collided with the rafter support bracers for the roof of the Inn on the other side. The Exalt’s face spasmed in agony and he wasn’t quite quick enough to grip the roof before falling several stories to the ground. Such a fall would be nothing at all to a Wood-Aspect, but it would hopefully give Reflection his chance.

Without hesitation, Reflection ran to the other end of the roof and jumped to the building across the street, putting distance between him and the Exalt. He was too hurt to try for more acrobatics across rooftops so instead he reached a low-hanging awning and dropped to the ground.

Through alleyways and streets he ran, and ran, and ran. Pain had thickened his body and Reflection was reminded again that not only could he feel it more immediately than when he’d been the Demon Ghost’s prisoner, but he didn’t have the Essence the Perfect Mirror Demon had. The dive through the door, the cuts across his arms from the window, the fall to the hard ground from that window, the pain in his shoulder from knocking the Exalt off his feet…and that throw. No matter how much strength and speed the Perfect Mirror Demon had left him, he was the Fractured Reflection of Concealed Righteousness now. A man. A man with talents, but still just a man.

By the time he reached Gidarik, he was panting and the pain in his ribs suggested that impact damage was combining with a lack of air to bring him a new definition of runner’s fatigue. He had nothing left. His reserves were nearly empty. But he was safe.

The flat-faced secretary, Gidarik of the Tenfold Thousand Scribes, was not visible in the safety house, but Reflection heard the disapproving voice speak near him. “So, got into a spot of trouble, did you?”

“A second. Assassin. A Forest Witch. Dragon-Blood by. The looks of him. His strength was. That of an Exalt. He nearly had. Me twice. But I obtained. The information. Concluding Emollient wished. And the Perfect. Mirror Demon. Made it certain that. The Six Style guild. Would never rise again.”

“Very good,” the secretary said, with a warmer tone. “Perhaps I begin to see why Concluding Emollient has invested so much effort in you. You are quite useful, and lucky, for a mortal.”

“Thank you,” Reflection said, as he fell into a couch and tried to catch his breath.

As he lay there, gasping, the door to the safe house shattered and the Wood-Aspect Prince of the Earth strode through the wreckage, his body and his jade Daiklave wreathed in a forest swirl of leaves. Blood trickled from his mouth, yet his majesty was terrible to behold. Reflection had seen much worse, but he’d been the Perfect Mirror Demon when he had. He knew now that he had no options. Ironic that his life would end in the service to a Chosen of Endings. But all things end. Even those that serve the Maiden of Endings.

“I cannot stand against a Terrestrial, mortal,” the secretary whispered in his ear, a tinge of regret in his voice. “But I will try to create a Portal for you to escape through.” With that, Essence began to gather.

Before the Portal could open, the Witch had walked across the room and lifted Reflection off the couch with one hand. Dangling him in the air, the Exalt grinned wickedly…and then his eyes widened in surprise. “The…Perfect Mirror Demon?”

At such an angle, Reflection knew several ways he could kill this Exalt. A blow to the throat, collapsing his windpipe would be easiest, as would blinding him and breaking his neck. But…Reflection…couldn’t.

He could not take this Exalt’s life. He could not kill. He dare not.

No one knew better than Reflection the price of murder. No one knew better than Reflection that murder can create a hatred and lust for vengeance to last a millennia. He knew what such hate was like.

Reflection was…scared to kill. If he struck this Dragon-Blood down…the ghost of this Witch could come back. And take from him again what he had lost for most of his life; his freedom.

No. No matter what the books said, no matter what his orders said, no matter what, Reflection would never kill again. He would not risk it, no matter how improbable it was.

He dared not strike to stun either, because the Exalt was too strong. Anything less than Reflection’s full strength might only hurt the Exalt and make him angrier. The Witch was too strong to use anything but everything Reflection had, and that might kill him.

And so, Reflection did not take advantage of the Witch’s surprise but hung there, watching the assassin and waiting for him to decide his fate. He still had barely caught his breath and the choke hold the Exalt had on his throat was already dimming his vision again, but there was nothing else he could do.

“The Perfect Mirror Demon himself. I thought you were destroyed. Making a Portal to escape through? Not good enough now, is it? I thought you were more terrifying than this! I’m disappointed. But you still saw too much, and my word is my bond. You certainly pant like any other mortal. I bet you bleed like one too.”

“He does. But so do you,” spoke Concluding Emollient, as his Sidereal mentor stepped through the Portal. The serene old man shook his head at the startled Witch. “Put my protégé down. Perhaps you may survive this day. Though your future is charted, I grant you the kindness of deciding if you would remain on the path set before you, or if you would step off into a new destiny.”

“What are you talking about, old man?” the Witch said, releasing Reflection and bringing his own blade up to the ready. Collapsing on the couch, Reflection just gasped, once again catching his breath.

“All things have an ending. Yours is upon you but out of the kindness of my heart, I offer to spare you. You should not have come here at all, so your destiny does not rightfully belong to you. But if you choose poorly, then you have chosen to embrace this destiny as your own. I will not deny you the right to your own ending, if you seek it.”

“Gah, you talk like an Immaculate,” the Exalt said, grasping his head with his free hand. “You’re making my head hurt. Ah, just shut up and die!”

The daiklave lunged. Concluding Emollient caught the blade with his bare hands…and broke it.

As the Witch stared stupidly at his shattered weapon, Concluding Emollient stepped forward. The flash of his hand, and blood flew from the Exalt’s mouth. Another, and he collapsed to the ground. A third and the Dragon-Blooded exhaled his last breath, folding himself into a fetal position and dying, blood pouring from the corner of his mouth, more blood than anything could survive losing.

“You chose your destiny and I will not deny you it. Go in peace. May the Tapestry find further use for you. But that is not my department.” The old Sidereal looked over Reflection and smiled. “You fought magnificently, Fractured Reflection. I’m proud of you. Even with your background, a battle with a Dragon-Blood in his prime is not an experience most mortals live through.”

“Thank you, Chosen,” Reflection said, closing his eyes, bowing his head, and nodding gratefully.

“Did you find what I sought?”

“Yes.” Reflection waited for the old Sidereal to find a comfortable spot on another couch before citing all the pages and ledgers he had read. Though most of it was beyond his understanding or interest, he was able to synthesize the most salient points and condense the summary into a minimal amount of time. He then explained the events of the past hour. The Sidereal nodded, pleased.

“Yes, this is excellent. The first assassin is no more. Nor is this second one. The Six Style guild is broken. The Perfect Mirror Demon appears rarely enough, and the Innkeep will have a hard enough time getting anyone to believe him that I think we can leave his memory alone. All has returned to how it should be.”

“Yes, Chosen.”

“Come. We have other work to do.”

“Yes, Chosen.”