EMMA

  "I mean, it wouldn't have been my first choice a week ago, but *nothing* we do is going to be perfectly safe," Ema stressed. "Monsters tried to eat us within one day of landing, I'll take the weapons training all day. And the warm, dry place to sleep."

  She dumped herself backwards onto the surprisingly comfortable mattress behind her to make a point. Calen could re-make his bed later if she mussed up the sheets.

  The 'strategy meeting' was going about how Emma had expected it would when Calen had loudly insisted that they needed a minute alone before they talked to Isha.

  A whole lot of worry and speculation, pointed in entirely the wrong direction.

  "Easy for you to say," Calen's frown was pointed at the door. "They're actually teaching you how to swing yours."

  "I'm going to have a shield," She reminded him. "And Mirri says durability is my only practical use for mana in a fight. You don't exactly have that fallback with your head... the way that your head is. Of course they're starting by teaching me offense and you defense."

  The perfectly logical argument barely dented Calen's paranoia.

  "Okay, fine, let's assume they're perfectly legitimate about teaching us to fight, and that your shield isn't still locked up in Isha's office," Calen threw up his hands in a mockery of surrender. "They could be doing this for two of their own people, instead of us. We are two complete strangers, members of a species they're hostile with, who literally fell out of the sky yesterday. What does that tell us? Are they stupid, or are they just *that* desperate?"

  "You said it yourself, they have rules about the magic metal," Emma countered. "Isha said if we wanted to leave with it, we could do that too, and Mirri is a priestess of something. This is at least a little religious for them, unless you've forgotten what Sariel looks like."

  Calen's look of consternation was both sudden and silent, so Emma pressed her advantage.

  "Y'know, the person who made sure you had a claim to something too?" She wheedled, reminding him of the only reason the dragonborn had even given him a vote in the first place.

  Helping Mirri might have had something to do with it too, but that was beside her point, and they both knew it.

  "Okay, I haven't quite figured out how the big metal angel fits into things, but why not give the things to someone else?" Calen asked. "Dovin wouldn't take them, but Mirri was right there, she actually has the anatomy to pick up the wings, unless she's too important to risk because she's the Warden's daughter. I'm telling you Em, this deal is too good to be true, they're hiding something."

  "You knew all this yesterday. Are you really about to get scared and quit before your first magic lesson just because Dovin made you do real exercise?"

  "That wasn't even real exercise, I just..." Calen sighed. "They do seem serious about teaching us, and that changes things. I don't think we should agree to anything, if she asks for a pledge before the free trial of help expires. They promised us three days, it's been like six hours. We should spend all three days figuring stuff out before we commit to anything."

  "Is that it? Deal. But—" Emma cut him off before he could add anything. "—after three days, you have to have a serious alternative plan, or a real objection if you want to walk away from this. Not just maybes."

  "You want my real objection? Em, what do you smell right now?" Calen demanded.

  Now he was being ridiculous.

  "We both smell like B.O. dude, we just worked up a sweat, and neither of us packed deodorant before we got magically abducted to another planet. We're going to smell no matter where we go." Emma explained.

  If anything, access to a real bathroom was one of the perks that came with the job.

  "I'm serious," Calen insisted. "Take a big whiff. Here, let me open the window, maybe that will help."

  The rush of cool mountain air was just another reminder of the perks of the job, not that Emma had a way to end up in a bunker on Earth anymore, but it wasn't strong enough to push Calen back from the window *that* hard.

  "Come on. Come take a nice deep breath, and tell me what you smell." Calen insisted from far further away from the window than he needed to be.

  Emma decided to let him pretend, pacing forward without saying anything. It had only been a day since his trip off a cliff, he could get over it after he put the wings on. Maybe learning to fly from Mirri would squeeze a little gratitude out of him, too.

  A thin layer of pine sap and wood smoke underwrote the still-significant odor of sweat that permeated the room when Emma rested her palms on the windowsill.

  "Camping," Emma opened her eyes as she finally placed the nagging memory tickling the back of her brain. "It smells like camping, but I haven't seen a single mosquito since we got here."

  "Em, they cook inside. With magically heated pots," Calen said. "So what are they burning at noon?"

  The answer was below the windowsill, when Emma peered over the edge to check.

  At first she was confused that no one was watching or tending to the bonfire, but the rectangular shape of the stacked logs, combined with how recently they seemed to have been lit, meant that the sheet of cloth draped over the pyre had an obvious purpose.

  "Oh."

  Emma was looking at the Venatrix's funeral from several hundred meters in the air, and she seemed to be the only one in attendance, other than the guards on the walls below.

  As she watched, a little tiny dot of a person left the fortress, and paused for maybe a heartbeat or two to dip their head before continuing on their way to the stables. It obviously wasn't Mirri or Sutai, because the figure lacked wings, and the Warden was waiting for them in the other room.

  "Yeah, 'oh', Em. This being a religious obligation for these people with a totally alien culture *is* my objection," Calen said behind her. "Mahira died for a stranger, and they're asking you to *literally* fill her shoes. So maybe we say 'thanks but no thanks', and ask—"

  "Whether she had to, or chose to." Emma interrupted him, still looking at the plume of smoke rising from the pyre below. "And if she had to, we only take the Wardship, not the... the Seraph Steel."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  That was a reasonable compromise, with both options on the table. Isha had said she would train them like her own daughter, and hadn't pushed for Mirri to take the Seraph Steel. Unless that was what happened if Emma and Calen said no.

  Either way, they had options to repay the sacrifices that had been made for them, without condemning themselves.

  "That's not exactly what I—"

  But Emma was done listening. To all of it.

  "I know what you meant. Come on. We've kept Isha waiting long enough." She declared, striding past him.

  "Okay, Em, I get it you liked her a little more than I did, but we're still not committing to—"

  "—anything until the three days are up, and we have a better idea of what Wardship means," Emma finished the sentence for him, reaching for the door. "We're going to go ask. Keep up."

  She ignored the defeated sigh behind her, stretching her stride to cross the hall sooner. The Warden's office was only a few steps away.

  He would get over it once he figured out this was their only good option.

  ***

  "How was your first morning with Dovin?"

  The scent of wood smoke was weaker in Isha's office, but not entirely absent as the Warden took her seat behind the desk.

  Calen finished sulking his way to the chair next to Emma, eyeing the mirrorlike surface of the Venatrix's shield, still braced against the Warden's desk.

  "It was, um, fine. I spent most mine with Mirri, actually." Emma answered when Calen stayed silent.

  "Good. She's still settling into her role, so he'll be assisting for another day," Isha gave a slight, toothless grin that almost seemed friendly. *Did* seem friendly, even. "I won't bore you, I have some specific requests for you two right now, but before we get to them, do you two have any pressing concerns at the moment?"

  "Um, pressing?"

  "Basic amenities you lack, strong objections to things you've seen, moral questions itching at the back of your minds. Worries that are disrupting your focus, beyond the obvious state of affairs that you are no longer home, and surrounded by strangers of a different species."

  "Why is nobody at the Venatrix's funeral?" Emma blurted before Calen could find a way to start a fight. "Or did that already happen? I thought Mirri was her apprentice, but she was with us all morning."

  "Ah," Isha cottoned on to what Emma was saying. "Venatrix Mahira was passing through, and considering taking my daughter on, if she stayed. Yesterday was the first test, so the arrangement was never formalized. She had no close family or lovers I was aware of in Tenashki. Was it customary for acquaintances to remain pyreside on Earth?"

  "Customs weren't universal, but... yes? Ish?" Calen surprised them both by deigning to speak. "People who barely knew someone would usually either stop by, or send flowers to show respect. It would depend on what the living family wanted."

  "And she had none I know of. The common curse of many Immortals. You two will be luckier than most in that respect, but—" Isha folded her claws together on the desk, bringing the subject to a close. "—the world turns for everyone, even Immortals, so I have something slightly more urgent than our forevers to discuss today."

  "Urgent?"

  "Is Sariel back?" Calen's question led Emma's by a hair, overlapping their requests.

  "Nothing like that. No, I have two requests for you. First, information."

  Calen's mouth opened, but he hesitated, likely sensing the impulse Emma had just gotten to stamp on his foot, if he knew what was good for him. Or maybe he was trying to stop being a jerk to their host at every opportunity. Emma wouldn't have bet on the coin toss.

  Either way, she was glad he had chosen to remain silent as Isha continued.

  "Second Bend has been treating some Arrivals they've pulled in from the wilds," The Warden seemed to be talking about a nearby village. "Some are recovering nicely, others less so, but some of the priests have taken sick, and some of the patients have shown signs of improvement under healing, only for their condition to then regress. Ashgrove has sent similar reports, and—"

  "Have you changed their clothes?" Emma blurted, her mind spinning. "Don't burn them, bury them somewhere secure, under like, concrete and stone. Not near the water table, or crops."

  She and Calen had gotten 'lucky', all things considered. Of course some people had been out under the fallout before the bombs arrived.

  And then they had both failed to warn their hosts, and people might be dying because of it.

  "So you know what this blight is." Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Isha, even as Emma's panic ratcheted up.

  This could get *really* bad if it was mishandled, and they had already missed the most important window, causing dozens of people to be exposed. Maybe hundreds.

  Or thousands, if there were really that many dragonborn trying to help.

  "Not a blight, it's radioact—"

  Static pulsed up Emma's leg, bringing her to a halt as Calen kicked her in the shin under the guise of readjusting his position in his seat.

  "A contaminant that can't be burned away, and causes what you call Seraph Sickness," He finished for her. "It takes close to eighty days to fully decay, halving every eight, and it can spread on the wind and in water."

  Emma hissed away her annoyance as quietly as she could, trying not to rub at her leg while she kept her silence under Isha's knowing gaze. Calen was being a jerk, but he *had* managed to succinctly describe the dangers of iodine-131 without delving into atomic theory.

  "Is there more you can safely tell me? I won't pry they whys, but I need to know how to keep my people safe if I'm to ask them to continue saving yours. Seraph Sickness is not known to be contagious on Avarea, and effective treatment would help quell some of the... less empathetic voices." Isha's last sentence set ice coursing through Emma's veins.

  "Of course," Emma beat Calen to the punch this time. "*Treatment* doesn't require explicit knowledge, so it's safe to share."

  "Feed them seafood, dairy, or egg yolks. The priests too, even before they're sick," Calen added, with no trace of his previous demeanor. "Not like, exclusively, but adding some to their diets might help, if your immune systems are anything like ours."

  "It's probably more than a little late for some of them, but the contaminant hitches a ride on the organ that fights sickness in humans, because the body can't tell the difference between the contaminant, and a nutrient it needs." Emma continued the explanation, tapping at her throat right above where her collarbones met.

  Isha had a few more questions, pressing a reed stylus to the clay in front of her with blinding speed as they spoke. Emma managed to avoid running afoul of Calen's sensibilities about information sharing again, and the dork even managed to contribute a little bit more.

  He had... a *suspicious* depth of knowledge on managing radiation poisoning, for someone who had been so unconcerned with securing his own slot in a bunker for as long as Emma could remember.

  Maybe once things had calmed down, she could ask him about that, but for now—

  "My second set of inquiries is more personal. Viran told me about your incident outside the mess hall, and I apologize. Morale is... low, after yesterday's events," Isha said delicately. "In a few days, once we get stone mages up from Second Bend, a few more bodies doing the work of Wards would go a long way to soothing tempers, and give you two an opportunity to visibly contribute once you've mastered the basics."

  Which might help quash some hostility from the garrison, Emma read between the lines.

  "What does that entail, exactly?" Calen's tone was suspicious.

  "Guard duty, maybe a patrol or two," Isha's nostrils might have closed just a little. "Laundry is an affair humans undertake more often than dragonborn, so likely that too, for equitability's sake."

  "Yes." Emma agreed immediately, trying not to think about the thin sheen of dried sweat that was still on her back, or how they must absolutely *reek* to someone with a snout that long.

  She made a mental note to ask for soap at some point, for everyone's sake.

  "Not if—" Calen paused to sigh far too dramatically before he finished grumbling. "Not if it involves taking oaths early."

  Emma fought the urge to kick him. They were being asked to make basic contributions, he didn't need to be hostile about it.

  "Of course not," The Warden's reply was just a bit smoother than her normal speech. "It's far too soon to know whether you're suited to Wardship or not, but this might solve a few headaches, and give you a taste for what your normal duties would entail."

  "Then yes." Calen still sounded less than enthused by the idea.

  "Is there anything else we can do to help?" Emma volunteered. "With the... morale?"

  *One* of them needed to be diplomatic about this, and anything that would take the pressure off before resentment became habit was on the table, as far as Emma was concerned. Almost anything. She was keeping all of Mirri's clothes on, for starters.

  "Well, you are about to get your first lesson in magic from my daughter, so if you think you can avoid harming anyone on your way up the stairs, or in general—" Isha got half a twinkle in her eye, languidly stretching a single claw across the desk to tap at something shining silver, leaning against her desk. "—then I suppose you can be trusted to walk around with this safely."

  Even sitting close enough to reach out and touch it herself, Emma had almost forgotten about the shield.

  Almost.

  pyres have been used for cremations, offerings, and executions since at least the early bronze age. It was a popular Roman funeral custom around the second century CE, but required skilled labor in order to ensure they burned properly, and for long enough to actually cremate the deceased.