She fidgeted as she sat in the chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs and then tapping the heel of her thick boots of hide against the wooden chair leg. The room was empty; King Lahar appeared to not have any personal guards or servants waiting on him. Even the room was bare; the "old quarters" seemed to be a chamber previously filled with grandeur. Dust had collected on the marble statues and the paintings were faded and coated with cobwebs. The ground was swept clean, however, and the place was simple and tidy.

Tia couldn't help but feel that this was an old and abandoned part of the Old Palace. Her sensitive ears could only hear the quiet footsteps of people far away. Her breath made little mist clouds in front of her, but even then the large fireplace in the room was unlit. In Dernexes, she or one of the servants would have made the fire much earlier; not that it mattered: her thick clothing was more than adequate in keeping her warm.

The sun had gone down. Dusk arrived earlier day by day. The sky was stained a bright orange, throwing the last of its rays over the edges of the trees in the distant through the clear window.

Even though it is such a different place here, the sunset remains the same, mused Tia. I wonder if Mommu and Enlil are seeing this right now.

A cough behind her alerted her of King Lahar's presence. She jumped to her feet and curtsied out of habit, bowing her head low.

"King Lahar." As she lifted her head up again, she registered the astonishment on the older man's face.

"There's no need for that!" He hurried forward to relieve her of the position. "Nabu had told me... I didn't realise Dernexans were really so strict on formalities!"

"I did not realise Gwentians were so much on the contrary," she said, a bit sharper than intended. Her green eyes flicked over his attire; he was clad in the same long tunic, thick leggings and boots of hide as she. At a glance, he would not look out of the ordinary on the streets of Mooncliffe; yet this man was the head of the monarchy and the dictator of Gwent. It almost beggared belief.

King Lahar tilted his head in acknowledgement of her words. "I mean nothing derogative. I do apologise. I'm just surprised by the difference. Please, take a seat."

Tia slipped back onto the chair, feeling uncomfortable she was offered the seat by the king and she was sitting before him. She forced down the unease and faced him as he settled adjacent to her.

"May I call you Tiamat?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Call me Lahar," he said. "Everyone does." Tia winced at the informality of it all.

"Of course... Lahar," she said in a strangled voice. "What is it that you wish to speak with me about?"

His expression turned grave as his dark blue eyes met hers.

"I wish for you to tell me what happened in Dernexes. The soldiers who were patrolling the Dernexan-Gwentian border brought you here several days ago but they were unable to provide me with information. I find myself asking why the Mawlinese army of thirty-strong men would chase an exhausted, starved, half-delirious young girl to the point where they were almost – but not quite – prepared to declare war on Gwent by stepping onto our soil."

Tia bowed her head, hiding her face beneath her chestnut hair; her fists gripped the folds of her tunic hard. Her shoulders shook.

"I know this is hard on you, but it's of utmost important that I establish the goal of the Mawlinese. I know Capital of Dernexes has fallen to Mawlin. I know King Ea of Dernexes is dead and all of his Windcasters were killed." Tia flinched. "Rest assured, Tiamat; we will keep you safe here, but I need to know what the Mawlinese are after. And you are the only one who can tell me that."

Visions from a few days ago flooded her head, swamping her mind's eye with images of the dead, the blood ,and the terror.

She clutched her head, tugging hard at her hair. Her breath came in quick gasps and her chest was tight to the point of pain. The flashes came in quick succession; the screams echoed in her brain. The blood spatters on the wall still seemed so fresh, the final cries of the Windcasters so realistic, and the smell of death still so strong. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memories out.

"–can see it's difficult," Lahar said in an indistinct voice through the suffocation. "I don't wish the same upon my own and you're the only one who can help me. Please, Tiamat: tell me what happened."

Her hands shook, out of her control. Through the haze, she was aware of a pair of hands clutching her own.

"I need your help, Tiamat. We all need your help."

The deep blue eyes gazing intently at her morphed into those of Master Anu; the familiar, affectionate twinkle in his eyes spoke volumes.

What would Master Anu tell her to do? she asked herself, overwhelmed by the emotions. She begged those light blue eyes to speak to her.

Do what you feel is right.

She focused on those words, breathing deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. Her cheeks felt cool. She touched them with one hand, surprised when they came away wet. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling. The strong grip on her left hand was strangely comforting.

"They killed the Windcasters," she said in a thick voice. King Lahar's concerned face swam into focus as more tears slid down her face. She wiped her eyes again. "I do not know how... but the Mawlinese stormed Capital and killed all the Windcasters and the royal family. I barely got away..."

"Your king's advisor betrayed Dernexes." The Gwentian king's voice was low and grim. "My sources tell me he's the one who lowered the security around Capital and suggested the recall of the Casters."

"But why would he do that?"

"I was hoping you could enlighten me on that," was the quiet answer. Tia fell silent for several minutes, withdrawing her hands and gripping them together in front of her, finding her words.

"I do not know the reason why—" She swallowed. "—but I was pursued by the Mawlinese guards – the ones clad in metal armour – for many days. They were relentless. They killed and set fire to whatever civilisation I fled to. I do not know how, but somehow they were able to track my every move."

"And what is so special about you they would send thirty strong men after you?"

"I wish I knew," she said in a small voice. "I am but a Level four Windcaster... if they wanted a disciple of the Wind, there were plenty more experienced, more powerful Casters than I. There are still a few Windcasters in the army marching back to Dernexes. If they were looking for someone who will aid them, then I am the wrong person to look for. I shall never assist them in their butchery!" Her voice cracked.

She was lost in her thoughts again, twisting her fingers until they cracked and huddled over the edge of the table. He was right though: what was so valuable about her they were willing to pursue her day and night from Capital to the Gwentian borders, almost to the point of declaring war on a second country? She was nothing special; yes, she had a talent for the Wind, but even that was nothing ground-breaking, and she was still just a trainee. Mommu was of the same value as her. They killed all the Masters and the king's Casters in Capital: they were the cream of the crop, not she. There were Consuls and Praetors who remained with the army, who hadn't been recalled.

She was an easy target too: alone, with low-level magic and armed with nothing but a tome she could not read and a Casting staff. There was no need for so many of them to chase after her.

The king remained quiet throughout. She fished the tome from the front of her tunic with trembling hands.

"Perhaps they were seeking this."

"What is this?" He remained seated.

Tia was thankful that he didn't reach out to touch it, but merely scrutinised it from his seat. She wasn't sure how much she trusted him.

"This is the Book of Wind. My Master entrusted it in my care before he p–passed away." Tia swallowed, the flat of her hand resting atop the leather-bound book.  "He said this contained sacred information about Wind magic and high-level magic. It must never be read by non-Windcasters and must never fall into the hands of a traitor. It has been left in the charge of every head Windcaster since the beginning of Wind magic."

"You think this is what they were after?"

"Perhaps." She eyeballed him. "What will you do with this information?"

He sat back. "It seems Mawlin is preparing to start a war with Gwent. Now that I know what it is that they want, it may give me more of an advantage when – if – we negotiate."

"If you wish to use me as leverage, there is nothing I can do to object to that." Her heart fell despite attempting to sound like Enlil. She was in no position to argue or strike a bargain; her life was entirely in their hands, and she knew that much.

King Lahar shook his head, smiling.

"They have been itching to start a war with us for many years now, Tiamat. You may be the trigger for it, but even if you hadn't fled to this country, no doubt it was a matter of months before they invade us. Dernexes has already fallen; their first step has been accomplished."

"How did you know what their plans were?"

"You know as well as I that none of the three countries have ever been on friendly terms; not after the last Great War. I can only be grateful that Gwent wasn't Mawlin's first target. No, Mawlin will be declaring war soon, and we must be prepared."

The king stood up. Tia jumped to her feet at once and flushed as he chuckled at her.

"Our ways are very different to yours, Tiamat. It may take some getting used to but I give my word that you will come to no harm as long as you remain on Gwentian soil. "

"I may stay?" she said in surprise. King Lahar paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob as he smiled at her over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners like Master Anu's.

"You might have noticed that we are short of hand and we're all working extremely hard to prepare for the winter period. We need all the help we can get. Everyone earns their bread and bed, and you will have to too, if you want to stay."

"I will not use the Wind for your sake," she said, blunt. King Lahar tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"That was never my intention. I am proposing manual assistance."

She was quiet as she contemplated his words.

"Well?"

"I just have one request," she said in a quiet voice. "I wish to have access to the tallest building in Abaddon once a day, every day."

King Lahar didn't make a comment on the strange request. He nodded.

"Then I thank you and your people for your kind generosity," she said, with a deep bow.