The mist lingered. I imagined it would so long as whatever will was behind it wanted it to. It writhed and curled around the edges of the boat as the vessel cut the murky water of the lake, wispy tendrils parting reluctantly around the wooden hull.

Lanterns attached to the boat helped light our path, but I moved us forward slow and cautious all the same. I propelled us through the mist with a long oar while Catrin sat at the front, occasionally giving me direction.

She seemed to know her way well through the fog laden expanse of the those waters. Which was, I felt certain, a problem. She'd known the ghoul mercenaries by name. She was a guest of the baron, with an invitation to his council.

Perhaps, like the mercenaries, she wasn't what she seemed. But what, exactly? Another ghoul? A witch? Something worse? She seemed very human, almost mundane in her peasant dress, her ruddy brown hair, that occasional flash of slightly crooked teeth.

But that meant little for some beings. There were glamours even my golden eyes could struggle to break, if woven cleverly enough. And even if I tried, she might sense me doing it. If I revealed her fully, it would mean violence.

Better to pick my moment.

"You listening?"

The question ripped me from my thoughts. The slow, steady rhythm of my rowing faltered, and it took me a moment to realize I'd missed the last thing Catrin had said.

I glanced at her where she sat at the front of the small fishing vessel. Even in a dress, shift, and badly laced brown bodice, she looked underdressed for the cold air over the lake, the skin of her neck and shoulders exposed. I felt chilled even under the weight of my heavy cloak.

When I still failed to reply, Catrin arched an eyebrow at me. "I asked you what your name was, big man."

I hesitated a beat before replying. "Alken."

"Ooo…" Catrin lifted both eyebrows then, leaning forward with interest. "Haven't heard that before. Sounds fancy. You some kind of lord?

I struggled to place her accent. It sounded like a marchlander a bit, from the subcontinent's eastern regions, but she spoke with an impatient, breathy haste that made her words blend together. It seemed more the product of a verbal tic than a dialect.

"Not a lord," I said in response to her question. Not anymore, I added silently.

Catrin folded her arms, studying me as though I represented some interesting puzzle. "So what are you? I don't think mysterious wanderer is an official profession. Tends to be more of a cover for something, right?"

I didn't reply. I doubted she'd take too kindly to learning I was an assassin, or that she was guiding me right to my target. I could have made up a story, but the more fiction I wove the more suspicion I might draw. I'd never been a good liar.

Silence was easier.

Catrin narrowed her eyes at me. She had large eyes, expressive and a shade of brown only a touch lighter than her hair, set beneath thick eyebrows. "Not much of a talker, are you big man?"

I turned my eyes back to the lake and sent the boat forward with another rotation of the oar. "No."

Catrin snorted. "Suit yourself then, but I'll tell you this — you're about to go into a nest of vipers. You've got a mighty fine cutter there…"

She nodded to my axe, which remained elongated from the blood I'd fed it. I'd had to lay down on the boat's floor to use the oar.

"But where you're going, this castle? Lot of nasty in those walls. Falconer's been putting out the word nearly a year now, and those corpse eaters aren't the only ones who've answered."

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. I avoided her eyes, looking out over the lake instead, but her eyes were intense, losing some of that drowsy nonchalance she'd kept up so far.

"Just want to make sure you're sure about this, big man. Don't know if you're some hard killer or what, but you can always turn this boat another way. I'll lead you safely from the marsh and have you gone before sunup, my word on it."

I did look at her then. "Why? You don't know me." I paused and added, "For that matter, why did you intervene with those ghouls?"

Catrin spread her hands out in a helpless gesture. "Because they were going to eat you? Even if they didn't, the rest of their band of killers would have."

"So it was altruism?" I asked, spurring the boat forward with another push. The water rippled beneath us, our boat the lone disturbance in its black stillness.

Catrin leaned back against the edge of the boat and made a shooing gesture. "Sure. Why not? You think I've got some ulterior motive?"

"You knew that one by name," I said. "That vice-captain. Maybe you're one of them. Maybe you're taking me somewhere private to make a meal of me yourself."

Catrin was silent a while. My comment hadn't been a joke — I had every reason to suspect she was dangerous. If so, I'd rather know before she brought me into the midst of a den of darkness. Out here on the lake, with just the two of us, I might have a chance.

Quietly, I started to burn my magic again, feeling the first crackle of power flow through my limbs, anticipatory and ready to surge forth in a burst of amber flame. Even the wooden oar in my hands could prove a deadly enough weapon if I imbued it with aureflame.

Catrin parted her lips and bit lightly on the tip of her tongue, studying me with a detached sort of focus, like a painter planning a future stroke of his brush. "That's rather forward of you, big man, seeing as how we just met and all. Not even going to offer a girl a drink, first? Bring me flowers?"

My rowing faltered for a moment. Catrin laughed, a low and throaty sound of genuine mirth. "Ah, you stoic types are always fun. We're almost there, so we'll put a rain check on that. Careful here, there are rocks."

I didn't have time to reply, or even process her words, as the waters of the lake began to grow treacherous. I had to put all of my focus on the dark, fog-shrouded abyss beneath the boat, looking for the telltale shadows of sharp rocks jutting up from the depths. Catrin murmured the occasional direction, and soon a larger shadow formed in the thinning mist ahead of us. It clarified itself into tall pillars and spikes of rock emerging like broken teeth from the depths, which soon began to coalesce into cliffs.

A barren island lay ahead, and on that island rose a castle. I couldn't make out its true dimensions, but the cliffs, the darkness, and the fog made its walls seem a monolithic shape. I could make out the hazy outlines of towers and rampart walls crawling with writhing fog, as though the fortress were some congealing phantasm.

Perhaps it was. It wouldn't be the only one in the world.

More, there were other, smaller structures rising from the water, which I had at first taken to be more rocks. They weren't. They were pieces of wall or the shattered remnants of drowned towers. Evidence of a larger structure, I thought, or even a town lost to the lake.

I swung the oar, and a lance of pain went through my injured shoulder. I tried not to show it, but its intensity caught me off guard. I flinched, gritting my teeth. I felt more warmth against my already damp preost robe, and another wave of dizziness.

"You're wounded," Catrin said.

I glared forward. "I'm fine."

She shook her head, causing her unkempt mop of hair to swing, no sign of mirth on her face. "You're not. You're bleeding."

She nodded to my shoulder, where the light brown material of the clothing I'd borrowed from Edgar had begun to darken.

"Let me take the oar," Catrin offered. "You should get that seen to. I've got some string in my bag here…"

She began to root around in her satchel. I let the boat drift, hesitant to let her take charge of our course.

Well, she already was in charge of it. Besides, it would free me to grab my axe if I needed to.

We switched off, the strange woman rowing the boat while I redid my stitches and worked to quell the bleeding.

"So, Alken." Catrin kept her eyes on the water as she spoke. "What brings you to Caelfall? Didn't get much back there with Vaughn and his cronies."

I snipped off a bit of string with my teeth before answering, using the motion to give me time to think. I decided for fragments of truth, which were easier than lies. "I'm a soldier, and I haven't had a lord to fight for in a long time."

"You a Recusant?" She asked. "Fought in the war?"

Angry, I opened my mouth to deny it. I was no Recusant. But I suspected Orson Falconer and his guests probably were. I clicked my teeth shut, then forced calm into my next words.

"Aye, I fought in the war." Not a full answer, but she seemed to accept it.

Catrin hummed as we passed beneath the sunken tunnel of an ancient arch. "I remember the war. Didn't see the worst of it — I'm no fighter. Far as House wars go though, it was an epic show."

"It wasn't just a House war," I snapped. "The Fall wasn't just another brawl between nobles. The Golden Country burned. It changed… everything."

Catrin glanced back at me, one brown eye peeking out of brown hair. "Right. Sorry, I forget how touchy that sort of thing is for some people, soldiers especially. I'm sure it mattered a whole lot to a lot of people. Especially the fey folk, seeing as how their city got turned to rubble."

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She turned her attention forward again. "But to a lot of other people? Didn't matter if you were Recusant, Ardent Bough, or any of the big factions. Just your village getting burned down again. More starving, more fear. War tends to look like war."

"This war had demons," I said. "It involved the Magi, and started with the Archon's murder. You can't tell me it was just another war."

"Lot of wars tend to start when someone with a golden hat gets chopped." Catrin waved a hand.

I clenched my jaw. "The Archon was the voice of the Choir of Heaven, king of all the Sidhe, an immortal who dwelt in this land before humans ever stepped foot in it. He was chosen by God to act as arbiter for Urn's monarchs."

Again, the infuriating woman shrugged. "So he had a very shiny hat. Most every big war starts with fancy titles like that thrown around. King so-and-so gets poisoned by lord such-and-such, then everyone's got some cause to die for."

I remained silent, frustrated with her dismissive attitude and with myself for letting it get to me.

"Besides," she added philosophically. "Every war has demons."

"And what would you know of war?" I growled. "You said yourself you're no fighter."

"Maybe not." She glanced back at me again, her face aloof. "But you warrior types don't always fight on some empty field. Whenever you march out, villages burn and innocent people die. That, I've seen."

She shrugged and turned her attention forward again. "Not that I'm any innocent. I don't mean to toss around mud, big man. Don't mind me. I'm always running my mouth, and getting into trouble for it."

Those ghouls certainly hadn't seemed to like her. They'd also been wary of her, which I hadn't forgotten.

Before either of us could continue the conversation, my attention redirected to the snap of leathery wings above. I tensed, reaching for my axe. Again, I heard the sound of huge wings beating, disturbing the pale white haze. The echoing sounds of claws scrabbling across rock filled my ears as something unseen crawled over the lake-drowned stones.

My instincts screamed that this was the trap. I bared my teeth and grabbed my weapon, starting to rise from the floor of the boat.

Catrin had her eyes up, but turned when she heard me move. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

"They're not going to hurt you as long as you're with me!" She said. "They're the baron's sentries. Just…" she swallowed. "Just calm down, alright?"

She clutched the oar tightly to her chest, letting the boat drift. She looked ready to defend herself. Not from the things above, but from me.

I realized that flickers of amber fire were playing along the edge of my axe, accompanied by the scent of burning wood. I studied the woman for a long moment, waiting, but neither she nor the creatures lurking in the surrounding rocks made any move to attack me.

I let the power fade but kept my weapon in hand. "Are we near?"

Catrin nodded. "Yes. Just a bit further now." She turned her attention ahead, the motion stiff.

Once the tension of the moment passed, I felt a stab of guilt. She's helping you. That wasn't courteous.

I buried the foolish notion and focused on the task ahead. This woman was dangerous, and possibly not human. I hadn't missed how the cold night air didn't trouble her.

Up above, the hazy shape of curtain walls and steepled towers solidified. We'd arrived at the castle of House Falconer. My fingers tightened on my weapon as I inwardly steeled myself for what came next.

I had no specific plan. Couldn't have one, until I knew what I was dealing with. But went into the dragon's den, no mistake.

Catrin guided the boat into a narrow ravine sinking into the depths of a cave. There were torches ensconced on the sheer rock of the cave's entrance, and the water extended through a tunnel within. This eventually brought us to a dock, little more than a wooden platform built along the cave's wall. A passage had been cut into the wall, torches illuminating it, and a set of stairs leading up. We pulled the boat up alongside the dock and clambered up onto the platform.

Catrin looked far less relaxed after we'd spotted the castle. I think my hostile reaction to the things flying above the lake had much to do with that. But that wasn't all of it.

She looked up at the cavern ceiling above and shivered. "I hate this place. Let's get this done quick, alright?"

"You're taking me to the baron?" I asked.

Catrin shrugged. "To where his special guests are gathering, at least. Man's a recluse. I've seen him all of three times since I got here a couple months back."

I still didn't understand why she had helped me, and I didn't trust her. Still, I was within the fortress where my quarry made his abode. I followed her out of the cave, keeping my senses alert both to her and to my surroundings.

We ascended a steep set of stairs carved into the solid stone of the cliffs. This soon transitioned into something more artificial, smooth walls giving way to layered brick. Catrin lit our path with a lantern taken from the fishing boat, but even still the darkness seemed to press in behind us the further we went, as though agitated by the presence of the light.

Further, I could make out a very faint scuttling sound. I focused on it, certain it wasn't my imagination. Like insects crawling across the walls by the hundreds. The ground seemed to pulse beneath my feet, as though reverberating with the beating of a great underground heart. My magic stirred in discontent, troubled by the feel of the place.

This castle was unhallowed.

Catrin turned to look down at me, lifting the lantern. I had stopped, letting her get a ways ahead.

"You alright?" She asked.

I suppressed a shudder and nodded. "Fine."

I wasn't. I felt light headed from blood loss, my shoulder throbbed with agony, and I had broken out into a sweat from the ugly feeling in the walls around us. The shadows seemed a beating summer heat pressing down with eager energy.

Catrin nodded slowly. "You feel it, don't you?"

She licked her lips and glanced nervously around the walls. Though, I thought perhaps there was a glimmer of something besides fear in her eyes. A nervous excitement.

"Lot of bad's happened here," she said. "A man I knew used to say the walls of Castle Cael are made as much from bone as stone."

"You're a local?" I asked. I'd thought she was like the Mistwalkers, here for the Baron's gathering.

Catrin shook her head. "Not a local, but I've got connections here. I've never called any place home for long, really."

She considered a moment before adding, "I guess that's part of why I'm here. If the Baron's not full of shit — and I'm not saying he isn't — might be that could change."

"What do you think about what he's doing?" I asked. "The Baron, I mean. This gathering."

Catrin shrugged one pale shoulder. "Do I think a Houseborn recluse who's dabbled in the forbidden arts can bloody the Church's nose? I don't know. Wouldn't mind seeing it done, though."

"You're not fond of the Church." I didn't make it a question, or put any special emphasis on the statement.

Catrin's voice turned bitter. "It's more like they're not fond of me. Still, I'm not here for any vindictive reasons. Orson's talked about making this place a sanctuary for… well, folk who don't have an easy time most other places."

She flashed a sad little smile. "Wouldn't mind it, you know? Planting roots. But I'm not holding my breath, and I'm here for work in any case."

"The Keeper," I said, remembering Vaughn's warning. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

Catrin nodded. "I'm sort of his representative?"

And not taking it very seriously, I silently noted.

There wasn't any conversation after that. I followed in the wake of Catrin's swishing yellow skirts until we finally reached the end of the long stairway. It brought us to a short tunnel with a heavy oak door at the end. Catrin rapped on it three times with her knuckles, and it opened to reveal a large chamber with the look of a foyer. Halls branched off in various directions, and a chandelier of intricate design hung from the ceiling.

The door had been opened by a gray uniformed Mistwalker. I tensed, knowing instinctively that he was also likely a ghoul, but the mercenary — a younger-looking man who's half-dead state was hinted at only by an unnaturally gray pallor — ignored me and dipped his head at Catrin.

"Cat! Thought you were staying in the village tonight."

"I was," Catrin said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at me. "But one of the baron's guests got lost. Thought I'd bring him over before the rest of you tin-heads got the wrong idea."

"Guest, huh?"

The guard turned his attention on me, and his welcoming attitude vanished. He studied me with a casual disinterest, as all the best sentries do. He was average height, leanly built, and somehow made his drab uniform and battered cuirass look fashionable. He had pale blond hair, and a thin face dominated by a crooked nose.

He fixed ice-chip blue eyes on me and pursed his lips. "Fashionably late, is it? His lordship is hosting some others who just arrived."

Catrin scrunched her nose. "More?"

The Mistwalker, Quinn, just shrugged. He laid a hand on the sword at his hip in a casual, easy gesture. "Scared, Cat? Don't worry, you're safe enough." He patted his weapon and flashed an easy smile, though it was perhaps too wide and manic to look quite human. His teeth were the color of old ivory.

Catrin snorted in contempt. "I'd rather roost with cairnhawks than trust a corpse eater to keep me safe." Her expression tightened with concern. "Quinn, there's not many people in Caelfall, If all of these predators Falconer is bringing in start getting hungry…"

Quinn scratched at his neck. "They're not all maneaters. I think one of them is just a necromancer, or something."

Catrin's lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't be dense. If the baron loses control of his guests, people will start dying. He promised he would keep his subjects safe."

Quinn's lazy smile returned and he leaned forward, his voice turning conspiratorial. "Don't worry, Cat, I'm sure there will be plenty enough for you. Speaking of, you free tomorrow night? I've got a shift in the village."

Catrin's voice emerged encrusted with a layer of frost. "I'll be occupied."

"I'll bet." Quinn flashed his too-wide grin again, then turned to me and lost the smile. "He wasn't invited to the council. All the guests who weren't asked to come to the castle are supposed to be waiting in the village until called."

"I'm supposed to be here," Catrin said, jabbing a thumb into her shoulder. "I'll vouch for him."

Quinn shook his head, sucking at his cheek. "It's not gonna fly, Cat. You can't keep doing whatever you want and expect your master's good will to stave off the consequences."

Catrin's lips thinned, and she enunciated each word she said next. "The Keeper is not my master. He's my employer."

Quinn shrugged. "Sure. Doesn't change it. I'm just saying you're playing with fire."

"Let's just call him an attache," Catrin said, her voice taking on a wheedling quality. "Come on, Quinn, I'll take the heat!"

Instead of answering her, he turned to me and shifted into a solid stance. I was taller, and heavier, but he didn't seem intimidated. Like Vaughn, he had a professional control. Size and weight weren't everything in swordplay, especially when I wasn't wearing armor.

"What's your story?" He asked.

Catrin glanced between us, clearly worried.

I set my axe — long enough to function as a walking stick just then — against the ground, resting my hand on its head to keep any threat out of the motion. Even still, the soldier's eyes flicked to it.

"My profession is war," I told him. "It's obvious to me that this lord is preparing for one. He will want to meet me."

I worked to put absolute confidence into my voice, even though my forehead beaded with sweat from pain and nervousness. If my voice was perhaps too low and too tight, I just had to hope it came across as stoic bravado.

Quinn lifted a blond eyebrow. "That so? Confident, aren't you?"

I said nothing, holding his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and he broke the contact first.

"Sellsword, then?" Quinn scoffed, though it seemed more an expression of appreciation than skepticism. "I can appreciate that. Well, if you're no joke, then perhaps Cat might earn herself some good will being the one who found you."

Catrin folded her arms and straightened, adopting a serious expression. "Exactly! See, I knew you'd catch on."

The Mistwalker sighed. "Well, it won't be on me. Fine, fine. This way."

He turned and started to walk deeper into the shadowed castle. Catrin traded a nervous glance with me, her earlier confidence almost completely gone. I kept my own demeanor neutral.

"Your injuries…" Catrin swallowed. "How bad are they? You really don't want to show weakness where we're going, big man."

"I've had worse," I said honestly.

Inwardly, I cursed myself as a fool for going through with this. I'd taken the opportunity presented, but I was in no shape to fight. Even having tended to my shoulder, I'd lost a lot of blood in the past week, much of it just that night, and had used my body and magic hard.

Just then, I had to put effort into standing upright and keeping a straight face. How long could I hold the act?

As long as you need to in order to survive, I told myself.

Catrin didn't look fooled. Even still, she nodded. "Alright. Well, once we're in there I can't do much for you other than an introduction."

I nodded. Then on impulse added, "I should thank you. And… apologize. Before, on the boat, I was discourteous."

Catrin shrugged and started to say something, but Quinn interrupted us from the stairs.

"Hey, I don't have all night! Get moving."

We did. Injured and uncertain what I faced, with a dubious ally at my side, I strode deeper into that lair of darkness and dark things.

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