Author's Note: The plot twist in this chapter was invented only when I was writing it, so unfortunately it wasn't foreshadowed much (and outright contradicts some of the first book).

Paths that end in trouble are all the same – they only appear different when you don't know where they lead. -- American McGee's Alice

Was it possible to know a place you had never seen before? Kilan would have said "no" once. But now he wondered. He knew for a fact he had never even visited Risingau Palace before. He had seen pictures of it. He'd read in history books how it had been essential to winning the Battle of Kolzaar[1]. But he'd never been there in person until his visit with Death.

So how did he know it so well? How could he know that one of the windows on the first floor was made of different glass from the others? How could he know how the kitchen was laid out? How could he know there was a small space under one of the floorboards? It made no sense.

There was only one person who could possibly answer his questions. So when Death next visited, he had many questions for her.

"What's happening?" Kilan demanded the minute she appeared. "Why do I-- How can I-- What did you mean when you said souls remember?"

Death listened to all these questions with a resigned expression. She sighed. "You might as well sit down."

Unlike Zasordoth Palace, the emperor's room in Risingau Palace wasn't a series of connected rooms. It was just one very big room that functioned as sitting room, bedroom, and occasionally dining room and study. Kilan should have found this disorientating at first. Instead he somehow already knew it. The bed was at the far side of the room, near the window. The chairs were at the other side, near the fireplace. Kilan sat down on the rouyao[2] in front of the fireplace. Death leant against the mantelpiece. For a long moment she stared silently at the mirror hanging over the mantelpiece, as if she could see into the past through it.

Kilan waited impatiently. Really, why did she complain he worried too much when she gave him plenty of reasons to worry? And then took her time before explaining them?

"You know some souls are reincarnated," Death began abruptly. She still didn't look away from the mirror. "Have you never considered that you might be too?"

Kilan stared. Reincarnated? Him? How utterly absurd! She'd never hinted at anything of the sort before! Surely, if he had been reincarnated, that would have been mentioned at least once.

"No, I haven't considered it," he said shortly. "It's impossible."

Death's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Very little is truly impossible."

Oh, for the love of-- He was in no mood to put up with her riddles now.

"Enough," Kilan said through gritted teeth. He got up and stalked over to stand in front of her. She refused to meet his eyes. "Tell me the truth. Was I reincarnated?" Death turned her head away, fixing her gaze on the floor. It looked as if she wanted to weasel out of answering the question. Kilan glared at her. "If you don't answer I'll never trust you again."

Death closed her eyes briefly. "No. You weren't reincarnated." She looked him straight in the eye. "Believe me, that's the truth. You have never been someone else."

Part of Kilan wanted so badly to believe her. But another part was more sceptical. "Then tell me what you meant. Please." He didn't intend his last word to sound so little like a request and so much like a plea.

Death shuddered as if his words physically pained her. This behaviour was so out of the ordinary for her that Kilan knew something was truly, serious wrong here.

"Damn you, Fate," Death muttered under her breath. Her words were so quiet that Kilan hardly heard them. He suspected she didn't mean him to hear. "I'll tell him, whatever you say."

She looked at Kilan, frowning grimly. A shadow fell across her face as she raised her head, making half her face look like a grinning skull. It sent a chill down Kilan's spine. But he didn't flinch or recoil. He knew who, what she was. He knew her. And he could never truly be afraid of her.

"Come and sit down," she said. Her voice was eerily dead and toneless. It wasn't quite the emotionless tone she used at times. It was more like an expression of defeated weariness.

He allowed her to take his arm and lead him back to the rouyao. She sat down beside him, her head propped in her hands. She carefully avoided looking at him.

"Reincarnation," she began, "is when a soul that has lived one life is given a new body and a new identity. The soul is the same; the person isn't. That has never happened to you. But there is another, similar method of returning from the dead. Re-embodiment. A soul lives one life, dies, and is given a different body but the same identity. So no. You haven't been reincarnated. But you were re-embodied."

The room spun around Kilan. His heart seemed to stop. His mouth suddenly became as dry as dust.

"What." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Death turned to look at him. There was sympathy in her eyes, but also a grim sort of resignation. "You lived here, in this palace, over a hundred and fifty years ago. You died in the Battle of Albeirth[3]. I didn't know you in that life at all. Then Fate came along twenty-six years ago and told me to re-embody you. I still don't know why she chose you specifically. But--"

She stopped. Kilan hardly heard a word she said. He was too busy trying to reconcile himself to this earth-shattering revelation to pay attention to anything else. Death seemed to realise this. She got up.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked quietly, not looking at him.

The words took a minute to sink into Kilan's brain. "What? Yes. Please... please leave."

Death nodded once. She glanced at him, as if she wanted to say something but didn't know what. Then she disappeared. Kilan was left alone, with the knowledge that he had once been someone else and that Death had kept something so important from him.

Somehow, knowing that he had lived and died before, though he had no memory of either, was less upsetting than knowing Death hadn't told him about it.

~~~~

Night fell over Istogu. Very few of its people, worn out after a long day of work or idleness, stayed up long after the sun had set. Only the farmers, who still had work to finish, and the soldiers, who were also the policemen and night watchmen, stayed awake.

In Shuradin's mind it was the perfect time to attack.

He and Zidamedhim had carefully planned everything out. They took forty of their soldiers and crossed the mountains while it was daylight. Then they waited in the foothills on the Istogu side until evening. As soon as the sun reached the horizon, they set off across the plain. It was dark before they were in sight of a garrison. In the darkness the garrison's lights shone brightly from miles away.

Shuradin had briefly been reluctant to attack and rob a garrison full of soldiers. Zidamedhim had argued him into it.

"They'll never expect it," he had said. "We've never attacked the soldiers before. We'll have the element of surprise."

Shuradin took very little convincing. Deep down he wanted to do something dramatic like this, to gain weapons and also to silence the murmurs of discontent. Many of his soldiers wanted to do more than simply steal livestock. He had come up with this plan within minutes of agreeing. Over the next few days he and his lieutenant had perfected it. Both of them were convinced nothing could go wrong.

At first everything went smoothly. They got right up to the garrison's walls without anyone noticing they were there. They got as far as setting ladders against the walls and starting to climb them before someone raised the alarm.

It was impossible to have forty-two people in one place without some noise. One of the soldiers in the garrison heard their mutters and grumbles. Immediately suspicious, he leant over the wall and held up his lantern. Its light fell directly on the attackers climbing the ladder.

"We're under attack!" the soldier yelled.

The garrison erupted into action. Soldiers who had been eating and drinking in the tavern grabbed their swords and charged out. Soldiers who had been in bed or preparing for it threw on their clothes and went to help. The captain of the garrison was out of his quarters and giving orders in less time than it takes to tell.

Chaos quickly ensued. Fighting in the darkness, with only the light of a few lanterns and torches to distinguish friend from foe, always descended into mayhem in very short order. Shuradin and his men were armed mainly with farm tools they had stolen from the villagers. The soldiers had better weapons, better training, and were better organised. Less than five minutes of fighting sent Shuradin and as many of his men as he could gather fleeing for their lives, defeated, humiliated, and considerably reduced in number.

The captain of the garrison took stock of the situation as soon as he was sure they were gone. Three of his soldiers had been killed. Another five were wounded. One had had her arm broken so badly the bone had torn through the skin.

"Report to the doctor at once," the captain ordered the wounded. "You there! Bring a light out here."

A corporal brought a large lantern, brighter than the ones they already had. By its light they saw the scattered bodies of the attackers they'd killed.

"Malishese!" someone exclaimed.

The captain took a note of how many bodies there were. "Nineteen. That should convince even the generals that this is no ordinary band of cattle thieves. I'm going to report this directly to the princess."

By the next morning all of Istogu had heard some version of the night's events. Before lunch time the whole empire had. Unfortunately, all news changes as it travels. By the time most people heard the story, it had become a deliberate attack planned and ordered by the Iquisaal herself. The three dead Carannish soldiers had become thirty. Within a day they had become three hundred.

Disaster crept ever closer; slowly at first, then quickly. In her realm, War had been prepared for this for years. All that remained was for her to put her preparations into action.

~~~~

Death for once had very little attention to spare for what was happening in the mortal world. Her discussion with Kilan kept forcing its way to the forefront of her mind.

She could admit, if only to herself, that she had handled that situation exceedingly badly.

What could I have done differently? she wondered even as she went about her work. Should I have told him from the start?

It was always so easy to see the flaws in one's conduct after that conduct had led to disaster. If only it was as easy to see them before that happened! Not even Death's knowledge of the future could let her avoid this sort of disaster.

Kilan's words kept ringing in her ears. '...I'll never trust you again.' Had keeping this secret ruined his ability to trust her?

A visit from Fate was the last thing Death wanted now. Her superior deigned to take on a physical form this time. Death found Her waiting in the throne room, wearing the appearance of a young girl.

Fate's physical forms were never the same twice in a row. Sometimes She was an old woman. Sometimes She took the form of an animal. There was no rhyme or reason to them, like so much about Her. Death took one look at Her and felt her temper fray.

"What are you doing here?"

Fate shook Her head as if She was very disappointed. "You disobeyed me."

Death's patience snapped. She had quite enough to endure without this. She was not going to be ordered around by a meddling brat with too much time on Her hands. And she certainly wouldn't allow said meddling brat to talk to her like a misbehaving child.

Several times through the millennia Death had wished she could break Fate's nose. The older personification had never been in a physical form at those times. Now She was.

Death gave Fate one of her widest grins. Even Fate looked slightly uneasy. Then Death punched Her right in the face.

Fate's yell of pain and shock almost made up for how much Death's hand hurt afterwards.

"For once you will listen to me," Death said in the terrible, thunderous voice she used when condemning souls. "I am no one's slave. I refuse to play your games. Now get out!"

Blood dripped from Fate's nose. Part of Her cheek was already covered with a purple bruise. She stared at Death in disbelieving fury. Death stared right back.

Fate's physical body disappeared. Death sensed rather than saw Her leaving the Land of the Dead. If She had a tail it would have been firmly between Her legs as She slunk away.

"Good riddance," Death said aloud. "Why did I never do that before?"

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] Battle of Kolzaar = A battle fought between Empress Ranoryin and her uncle who'd usurped the throne.

[2] rouyao = A sort of long chair, usually with a high back and arms at both sides, that looks like a chaise longue.

[3] Battle of Albeirth = A battle fought between the Carannish army and a group of revolutionaries.