The path into the mountain sloped and curved in ways neither Vera nor her brother could predict. They tripped into each other like babes in the dark so often that Vera began to lose all sense of direction. Her eyesight was just good enough that she could anticipate enough not to run into a wall. She tried to keep track of time by counting the beats of her heart as the Meditations of Armas taught, but rhythm was useless against the sounds of Gavrie’s boots. Vera felt shame that she could not find her place in the descending caverns or in Time. Gavrie never traveled ahead of her, though. He never turned his head to look upon her weakness. This did not occur to Vera until her legs felt leaden. There had been a halting rhythm to her brother‘s gait. When she stopped and slid down the black, stone wall, Gavrie was eager to collapse beside her.

“We’re in the middle of the road,” Vera pointed out in a whisper.

“Who cares,” Gavrie replied in a voice just as soft. “If something down here is looking to kill us, they’ll come regardless of where we sit.”

( ... )

The sun dwelled far from Vera and her siblings as they traveled up the steepest run of Bathnat Pass. Dirt on the path felt like hard stone -- how little it yielded beneath their boots! Above them, red-hatted summits peeled back layers of mist and cloud and glared sternly at them. Vera did not believe the poems read at Armas' temples about the majesty of mountains -- the ledges wore sharp armor and what little flowers bloomed by the road often shriveled and died. The Fire Peak Mountains were only concerned with the stars or what hammers resided in their depths. Vera didn't like the look of the peaks, but their appearance also lent her bits of the late evening sky…

Better than darkness.

( One guide led... )

Rough, percussive scraping steel rung through the Simic Room. This morning deserved more quiet; it was early spring when the apple blossoms in the concourse of J'or were most fragrant. Vera tasted sweetness in the air with heavy breaths and she brought her sword up to block her brother. Faxril followed her around the circular mats as a serpent might, his eyes dead of emotion and his own breaths passing in and out of his body as nothing more than a quiet hiss. He was a few hands taller than she was. Faxril was just exiting the lanky awkwardness of adolescence that she had yet to enter, the muscles of his arms were defined and seemed more intimidating when he was effortlessly steering his sword blade for her throat. He was barely sweating when he came at her; all the while Vera’s muscles burned beneath her skin.

Rahmil shouted form at her. The large beast of a man, clothed in the black and red uniform of an Oranian Teacher lingered by the arches that opened up to the concourse. He was watching only her motions. He did not need to watch Faxril. Faxril, he said, was more ready than any of them to lead men. He did not need to spar with someone so young. But that was why she was here. It was why Vera challenged Rahmil to let her spar with her brother. Father’s eyes were most pleasant when they fell on Faxril. People smiled at him in the halls. And Rahmil did not curse at him or hit him after a match.

( Vera wanted to show Rahmil that she could stand this... )

She had only gone barefoot because the stairs were slick from the rain. The stone felt easier to navigate when she could feel it beneath her toes; Vera liked to think she was the only expert of these stairs. Half inside and half exposed to the elements of the mountain, the tower they led to had remained unfinished for months. Servants of the household said the High Lord insulted the dwarf craftsman who came to make the addition onto the manor. Their tongues, though they flapped regularly, were rarely wrong. So Vera knew these steps would eventually lead to a new library, or a training hall, or a solar. Still, she liked to pretend that at the top, in the midst of the elements, was the Unseen Tower. Her tower. There she had property and an invisible army better than any that anyone could compete for in the Red House. Better than her siblings could dream of.

Vera smiled as she scrambled along the curve of the stair and around the corner which kept her out of sight from the rest of the hall. The wind of the outdoors was strong, it pulled at the edges of her hair. Dark clouds gathered around Eistocene. From the stair she could see them rolling in off the Acierran Plains like a massive dragon, spreading its wings and roaring with ferocious jowls opened wide. Her small fingers grasped the edges of her cloak as she pressed against the rock wall, slowly moving along until she was at the edge of the steps where there was a small, flat platform with ornate carvings along the borders. For the most part, the carvings were just squares and diamonds arranged in odd ways. Vera spent enough time here, however, that she knew where to look for the small bears and spears scattered within the shapes. She sketched the uniforms of her men based off these carvings, drew the spears and swords that they'd carry into battle, the gleaming helmets and shields that would catch the sun. Vera slid to the edge of the platform, dangling her feet over the edge and looking down at the rocks below. The weather here was sharp and unforgiving to everyone but her.

( ... )