The day’s efforts had rewarded Ana with another Skill level. Which was nice. It did seem a bit fast, though. Ray had picked up two levels of Teaching during their week together in the forest, and she had been almost ecstatic. Ana had done the same in two days. And while she had that achievement, Skilled, which was supposed to help a little with leveling speed, surely most people had that one. And as far as she could tell, she’d been leveling quickly from the start. When Kaira and Tor had been teaching her basic weapons Skills, they'd both remarked on how quickly she’d picked them up, as had Omda.

  It was great, but she couldn't explain why it happened, and that bothered her. She had Abilities, Enhancements, Perks and Achievements, and not one of them mentioned anything about Skill leveling speeds. She wasn’t so arrogant as to assume that she was just naturally better than everyone else, so there must be some effect, either a hidden one or just one she didn’t know how to see, that boosted her learning speed. She’d love to know what.

  That evening, on her way to Messy after meeting Tellak at Touanne’s for more shaping practice, Ana didn’t avoid the Waystone. She walked right up to it, placing her hand on the smooth, black obelisk and closing her eyes. In the stillness and silence of the square, she could feel a faint vibration in the cold stone.

  “Can we talk?” she whispered, and at first nothing happened. Then she got a feeling, as though someone had locked eyes with her and gently shaken their head.

  “Not yet? All right. You can only do that so often, and for so long, right?”

  This time she got the feeling of a nod.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll talk to the priest tomorrow. You’d better come through for me, because I don’t see how I can convince Pirta that a goddess is talking to me if I don’t have your temple backing me. And if Pirta doesn’t listen to me… I don’t know. I’ll still try, I guess. I’ll try to get the militia at least to follow me. If that doesn't work out I’ll take anyone who’ll listen and try to break out. But I don’t see us getting far, so you’d better come through, all right? I don't want to die here for nothing.”

  Look to your right.

  Again, it wasn’t words. But it was the strongest impression Ana had gotten yet, and one that she couldn’t ignore. She opened her eyes, and looked to the right.

  The doors to the temple, which had been closed when Ana arrived at the square, as they usually were after sunset, now stood open. In the light that spilled down the steps stood the priest, Mamtass, looking at her. He looked conflicted. Uncertain. Their eyes met, and the priest held her gaze for a few long seconds. Then he nodded once, turned, and walked back inside the temple, closing the doors behind him.

  “I’m counting on you,” Ana whispered. Then she took her hand off the black stone, and continued to Messy’s home.

  The next day, at the midday break, Ana saw the first time a delivery failed.

  The area was cleared, as usual. The food stalls operated as usual, but people were being kept back from the platform surrounding the Waystone. A woman — Ana had never actually spoken to any of the people in charge of sending and receiving goods, and didn’t know her name — said her prayer with her eyes closed and her hand on the black stone.

  An inverted shockwave stumbled through the clouds, uneven and halting. And then nothing happened.

  The woman tried again, and again nothing.

  No one seemed surprised, just tired. It had been five days since Jancia — what, infected? — the Waystone, and Ana knew that deliveries had been getting harder and harder to pull through. Sometimes only parts of the delivery arrived. Sometimes it took hours, instead of moments. And now, it had failed.

  Messy led Ana to the temple. They were both sweaty and dusty, but that couldn’t be helped. Ana had them working two against one that day, either one crazy against two defenders or vice versa, and she’d been joining in as an attacker in pretty much every exercise.

  “He’s looking forward to talking to you,” Messy told Ana as they left the somber scene of the failed transfer behind them. “He wouldn’t admit outright that the Wayfarer has told him to follow your lead, or anything like that, and that worries me a little. But from what you told me about last night he must believe!”

  “Yeah, here's hoping.” Ana looked up at the obsidian obelisk and muttered under her breath, “You’d’ve better come through for me.”

  “What a damn disaster,” Messy muttered, as though in response. “What do we do?”

  “We carry on, Mess. We keep doing what we planned. Now, Mamtass: what should I call him? Like, what’s his title?”

  “Priests of the Wayfarer don’t really have titles, though I suppose you could call him High Priest if you absolutely have to. Informally, though… Do you remember how he thought your Class was auspicious?”

  “Yeah? Oh.”

  “Yeah. They’re sometimes called Companions, though some of them don’t like it, since, you know… there’s a certain type of Class that often uses that name when the real Class is hidden.”

  “So…?

  “So just use his name. That’s what I do.”

  There was a nervous young man by the door to greet them, and when they asked to speak with Mamtass he nodded so rapidly that it looked like his head was on a spring. He ran off through a door in the side of the nave after asking them to please come in and wait.

  “There’s more people here than I would’ve thought,” Ana said, leaning up and whispering to Messy.

  “It’s the midday break, and people are scared. Why not take a moment to…?”

  Messy trailed off as there was a chorus of gasps and soft exclamations around the temple, amplified by the rounded stone structure. One by one, the twenty or so worshipers stopped their prayers and turned to look at the two of them with surprise, confusion, and hope on their faces.

  Ana’s hackles raised as she returned their stares. Unconsciously, one foot drifted back just so, her weight shifting, hips turning slightly. It was a reflexive precaution, one that had been drilled into her over the years. She was readying herself to fight while not being obvious about it, so that she wouldn’t trigger her opponent if they weren’t actually intending to attack.

  She didn’t actually feel threatened. Not really. But she had some truly awful memories of being hauled up in front of a church crowd, and even if she hadn’t, there was an intense discomfort in being looked at with such expectation. The simple shift calmed her and made her feel strong and safe.

  Next to her Messy raised her hand, waving awkwardly.

  They were saved by the appearance of the priest, Mamtass. “Miss Cole, Miss Mestendi. Please, come with me,” he said. His expression and tone were much more solemn than the first time Ana had spoken to him, and she wasn’t sure what that meant. He didn’t seem nervous, or excited, or angry, or anything else she might have expected from a man who’d been told by his goddess that he should talk to her and take her seriously. He was just very, very serious.

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  Mamtass led them through the same door that the kid had vanished through earlier, through a short corridor and into something like a combined office and bedroom. A bit like a single person dorm room, Ana thought, though she’d never seen one herself. The room was extremely tidy and sparsely furnished, though all the furniture looked like it was of very good quality.

  Mamtass poured two mugs of water from a ceramic pitcher that stood on a tray on the desk, offering them to his guests. Ana accepted hers wordlessly, Messy with a soft, “Thank you.”

  There was one chair behind the desk and another sitting along one wall. Mamtass gestured to both of them, saying, “Please, sit,” as he himself sat down on the carefully made bed.

  Ana looked at the desk that would separate her from Messy. It was… it didn’t make her feel anxious. She just didn’t like the symbolism. They should present a united front, to show that one of Mamtass’ flock was on Ana’s side. At least that was what Ana told herself as she effortlessly one-handed the chair over the desk, putting it down and sitting next to her friend.

  When Messy patted her hand it was completely unnecessary, but Ana enjoyed the contact, so she didn’t mind.

  “I’m sorry about our state,” Messy told the priest. “We came straight from the training yard.”

  “Oh, no problem at all. I understand that Miss Cole is exceedingly busy these days.”

  “You could say that,” Ana agreed. Her throat felt oddly tight as she spoke, and she took a quick swallow of water. “Can we get to the point? We all know why we’re here.”

  Messy winced at her tone, but Mamtass only nodded. “We do. Miss Mestendi here tells me that our goddess has more or less commanded her to support you in anything you say or do. She believes that you are, in effect, our only hope of making it out of the current crisis alive. Is that correct, Miss Mestendi? I don’t want to misrepresent you to your friend.”

  “That’s right, Mamtass,” Mestendi said softly.

  “Others in my congregation have told me similar things. That they have prayed for guidance or solace, and that they have received answers to those prayers that are far stronger than anything they’ve experienced before. Answers pointing to a single person in this outpost who may, fates willing, deliver us to our salvation. More than one have named you, Miss Cole, or described this savior as a newcomer, a stranger with a shadowed past, or other similar descriptions.” Then Mamtass chuckled, and a little of the humor and energy that Ana had seen before came back. “One man told me that he had the impression that he should seek ‘An intense young woman with very little hair.’ But, let’s get to the point. Miss Cole, I too have received the same kind of guidance. But we who follow the Wayfarer are not slaves to doctrine, or even to our own goddess. Her scriptures teach us to be prepared, to be aware, to think on our feet and always be willing to reevaluate. All this to say: Miss Cole, I do not know you. Miss Mestendi clearly trusts you. Many of my congregation believe that the goddess wishes for us to stand behind you, though we don’t know in what you need our support. But I will not go against my goddess’ precepts so easily.”

  He held up a hand, forestalling Messy, who’d been about to speak. “I’m not saying that I mistrust you, Miss Cole. I see no reason that we should oppose you. Captain Pirta certainly seems to believe that you have something to teach the militia, and from experience I know that her judgment is sound. But, again, I do not know you. You’re a newcomer, and I’ve spoken to you exactly once before this, and only briefly. I cannot actively support you if I don’t know what you intend to do, or what the content of your character is. So, please, Miss Cole. Convince me to lend you my support.”

  Ana sighed. “What do you want to hear? Captain Falk’s expedition has failed. They’re not coming to relieve us. Not even the Wayfarer knows how many of them are still alive. And I know that because I’ve spoken directly to her. Apparently I’m the only one she can do that with, and she says that we’re all going to die unless we do something about it. Does that do anything for you?”

  Mamtass looked at her with open-mouthed surprise. She’d expected anger or pity, so she’d take it. The priest looked at Messy, who nodded with conviction.

  “But— how?” he asked. “I can see no falsehood in what you say, but direct communication with a deity, it’s— it’s incredible! Only those on the path to ascension are so privileged, and even then... How can this be possible?”

  “That’s between me and the Wayfarer,” Ana said bluntly. “I swear it’s nothing that threatens anyone, as far as I know, but it’s a secret I’m going to keep.”

  “Very well, but— But even then, even supposing that this is true, that the goddess has told you in so many words that we must take action, what are your intentions? What do you want?”

  Ana huffed with frustration. He believed her. He’d practically said as much. He believed not only that she believed her own words, but that they were actually true. And somehow that wasn’t enough!

  She leaned forward and caught his eyes. It didn’t make him freeze like it did with a lot of people, but she hadn’t expected it to. But in his eyes she saw an openness, a willingness to listen. To think and reevaluate.

  Fine. If the heartfelt truth wasn’t good enough, then so be it.

  “Listen, Father— sorry. Mamtass, I mean. I don’t know what your Sense Motive might be at, or what Perks or Abilities you may have, but I want you to know that I mean what I say. You wanna know what I want? Truth is: not much. I want enough money to be comfortable, and enough power that people can’t push me around. I want some friends to talk and laugh with, ones who won’t kick me to the curb once they really get to know me, and, maybe—” she squeezed Messy’s hand, “someone to hold me at night. I’m not some great leader or fated hero, and I don’t want to be. I’m just some poor schmuck who got pulled into this all against my will. All I want is to survive and live a life I can look back on and feel good about, and now I have a literal goddess telling me that what we’re doing isn’t going to work, that there’s someone out there actively trying to make this whole splinter collapse, and that we’re all going to die unless we do something to stop it. So that’s what I’m going to do, or I’ll die trying.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” the priest asked softly.

  “I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, Mamtass. If I have my way, I’m going to get a lot of people killed sooner rather than later. I’m going to ask Pirta to turn this outpost into an armed camp, to put a spear or a bow in every pair of hands that can possibly be spared, no matter what their Class is, and then move everyone from the outpost to go and rescue the survivors of the expedition. And then we’re going to find whoever is doing all these summonings, and whatever else they’re doing, and we’re going to kill every fucking one of them.”

  Mamtass blanched at the venom that crept into Ana’s voice, then slowly placed his chin on his clasped hands. The three of them sat in silence, Mamtass and Ana staring at each other. Not in a contest of will; neither was trying to stare the other down. But Ana could feel the priest sizing her up, evaluating her sincerity and conviction, and she was content to let him look. Let him get all he wanted, and if he didn’t like what he saw, then to hell with him. She’d do it without him.

  She believed the Wayfarer. She saw absolutely no reason for a goddess to lie to her, and she believed her when she said that if they sat here and did nothing, they would die. And Ana was not going to simply sit here and wait for the inevitable end. She would rather die trying to change her fate than extend her life for a few more days or weeks.

  She was going to break out, together with anyone who’d go with her. She desperately hoped that they’d number in the hundreds, but she’d take what she could get.

  At long last the priest sat up straight and blinked once, slowly. “All right, Miss Cole,” he said softly. “I will speak to Captain Pirta on your behalf, if you wish. And I will tell my congregation that I believe that they should volunteer for the militia. But I will not tell the captain to conscript the general population. Incentives, yes. Making it clear that, if we can convince her, the armed portion of the population will be leaving, yes. But I will not be part of directly coercing anyone into bearing arms. It must be a choice, even if the choice is, if you’ll pardon my language, a shitty one.”

  Ana let her stare drag on, then nodded and exhaled. “Fine. Thank you. I would like us to speak to the captain together, ideally tonight, if that works for you.”

  “I see no problem with that,” Mamtass agreed.

  “Messy,” Ana said, turning to her friend, “can you try and arrange a meeting with Captain Pirta tonight? Late enough that I have a chance to bathe and eat something?”

  “Sure, yeah. I’ll try.”

  “Great.” Ana squeezed Messy’s hand again and stood. She held out her hand to the priest. “Thank you for your time, Mamtass. I’ll come by tonight.”

  Mamtass clasped the proffered hand. “Tonight, then.”

  Once Ana and Messy left the temple, the rest of the day passed in a blur. They grabbed something from a stall to eat in the few minutes before Ana’s next class, and then Ana got through the day, only half there. At the end of the last class Messy was waiting to tell her that the captain had invited Ana and Mamtass, and Messy as well if she wished, to her office at any time past an hour after sunset, as long as it wasn’t too late.

  They bathed. They ate. They went to the temple, and waited there in thoughtful silence until Mamtass was ready. The whole time they waited, Ana felt a sense of encouragement from all around, like the very air was cheering her on, and when they left with the priest she found herself missing the feeling. It would have been nice to feel the goddess at her back when they met Pirta because the captain, Ana was pretty sure, was not going to be happy about what she had to say.

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