Stomach full and skin grime free, Klara wandered the streets of the Central Circle, ignored by the scattered groups of Sentinels and wardens that also traversed the narrow passages. Her shower had served to wake her up, so she decided to explore the new world she’d landed in. However, the Central Circle had proven to be remarkably dull. The most interesting building she’d seen so far was the mess hall.

  Klara turned down a cross street near the tunnel to Borovsk I and noticed a door marked Library. Curious, she strolled over and entered.

  The musty smell of old books greeted her as she stepped into the small, dimly lit room. Library was a stretch. Only eight metal, ceiling-high shelves filled the space. A few scattered chairs and tables sat at the front of the room—all empty.

  Klara headed to one of the furthest rows and meandered down it, running her fingers over the dusty books that filled the shelves. Most were on battle tactics, tundra survival, and the like. The occasional historical tome weighed down a shelf.

  On reaching the end of the row, she stepped around the corner, still focused on the books, and collided with someone coming the other way.

  “I’m so sorry!” a familiar voice said.

  Klara stumbled back. “Idalie?”

  Idalie’s face went rigid as she recognised Klara. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing past.

  Klara watched as the collarless Alchemist hurried off, just another person who couldn’t stand her. No, she’s upset because I was rude. “Hey!” Klara said, jogging after her.

  Idalie kept walking until Klara grabbed her arm, pulling her round.

  “Let go of me!” Idalie snapped, her cheeks reddening.

  “No,” Klara said. “Not until I apologise for my inexcusable rudeness.”

  Idalie hesitated, clearly ready to start screaming.

  “I failed to introduce myself,” Klara said, “and I insulted your profession. Please forgive me and allow me to introduce myself.”

  The Alchemist relaxed and Klara let go of her arm.

  “My name is Klara Koskova, Sentinel warden. I would be honoured if you called me Klara.”

  A faint smile touched Idalie’s lips. “Well, Klara, your apology is accepted.”

  For probably the first time that day, Klara smiled. Genuinely smiled.

  “Perhaps you’d join me?” Idalie asked, indicating to a table.

  “Certainly.” Klara followed Idalie to a table, and they sat. “So you said you came to Serovnya because the Alchemist Guild here is the best?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call them the best, but their understanding of extracts is certainly more advanced than my Guild in Machtvoll. And they have uzhas sculptors here.”

  “Oh that’s right, you wanted to be a sculptor?”

  “Yes,” Idalie said. “I had hoped to take the skill home. But that proved a futile dream.”

  “So why stay?”

  “The need for healers at your gate forts kept me here. You see, Machtvoll only has three gates—at least, it did when I left. Our military has them under control, and we don’t get anything as large as a dragon. Also, nothing has ever emerged from one of the gates.”

  Klara sat back, surprised. “You stay away from your home just to heal strangers?”

  Idalie flushed. “My reasons for staying are not completely altruistic. I… I must confess that I wish to study dragons. They’re such majestic beasts. Have you ever seen one?” she asked, excitement sparkling in her icy blue eyes.

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  A memory of Lokteva’s warm, kind smile flashed through Klara’s mind, a smile she hadn’t seen in years.

  Her hatred for Nishkuks must have shown, because Idalie continued hurriedly, “I am so sorry! Of course they would be a painful memory for you, having lost so many comrades to them.”

  Klara rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “And family.”

  “Oh… I see.” Idalie’s face fell.

  “You didn’t know,” Klara said and took a deep breath, forcing a smile on her face. “Let’s just say that I’m here to make them bleed. But enough of that, I have a question if you don’t object?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn’t you become a sculptor?”

  “Ah.”

  “It’s all right,” Klara said quickly, “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

  Idalie glanced around the small, empty library as if she expected someone to be listening. Apparently satisfied they sat alone, she said quietly, “Voronin Master is a disturbing man. He is venerated within the Guild, yet the way he watched me—any woman, really—left my skin with a strong urge to flee my body.”

  Klara snorted at the mental image. “Well, the”—she pointed to her neck—“lack of collar, probably didn’t help.”

  “What about it?” Idalie asked, her eyes narrowing.

  Why did I open my mouth? “It’s, well, in Serovnya it’s considered a sign of purity to have your… neck covered.”

  “Purity? What’s impure about a throat?”

  Oh Sovereign Sculptor, she just said throat. In public! Klara’s cheeks burned, and she was supremely grateful no one else was around to hear this conversation. She was a fighter, she didn’t go around discussing women exposing themselves in public. “Generally, only married men and women see each other’s…” No. she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Necks.”

  Idalie rubbed her neck, a curious look in her eyes. “Interesting. What does an uncovered throat say?”

  Why me? “Um. Most women who have uncovered necks they, ah, they spend their time working at Night Palaces.” Klara cringed, waiting for Idalie to be outraged by the insinuation.

  Instead, Idalie nodded. “I see. And here I thought women wearing trousers was salacious and unsightly. But perhaps this explains many of the strange looks I’ve received since arriving. I thought it my blonde hair.”

  Klara shrugged, uncertain of what else to say.

  “Well, I shall consider a change of dress. While I find the custom strange, I do wish to respect the social mores of Serovnya.”

  “So,” Klara said, desperate to bring the conversation back to safer ground, “do you think Voronin Master is actually dangerous? Or just creepy?”

  Idalie’s gaze darted to the door—still closed—then said, “I heard rumours of missing Alchemists. Two months ago, shortly before I left, I thought an earthquake had hit the Guild. The entire building shuddered, then I heard yelling and screaming. Something happened in the uzhas vault, but everyone in there had their memories blanked. Voronin’s private army also besieged the vault, and I don’t know why.” She lapsed into silence.

  Mikhail had mentioned that Elana had disappeared two months ago. A pit of dread opened in Klara’s stomach. Were the two related? She decided to risk another question. “Did you ever know an Alchemist, Elana Koskova?”

  Idalie looked at her in surprise. “You’re related to an Alchemist?”

  “Not really. She was my step-mother.”

  “Was?”

  “She went missing. Two months ago.”

  “I see. You believe she had something to do with the disturbance at the Guild?”

  Klara shrugged. “Mikhail probably thinks so,” she muttered, more to herself than Idalie.

  “Is Mikhail your father?”

  “Sovereign Sculptor, no! He’s my half-brother—Elana is his mother.”

  Understanding lit Idalie’s face. “Ah! You’re trying to help him uncover what happened to his mother?”

  “Well, not exactly. He’s nearly cost me my place here several times. If I help him, then I can’t avenge Lokteva—and I made a vow.”

  “Perhaps this is just another difference in our cultures, but isn’t it nobler to help the living than avenge the dead?”

  Klara’s brow sank into a frown. “I should get some sleep,” she said, rising.

  Idalie’s chair scraped back as she stood. “I apologise, I didn’t mean to offend. I merely wished to learn more about the culture of Serovnya.”

  Taking a deep breath, Klara willed herself to calm. Idalie hadn’t seemed to place any malice or judgement in the question. Maybe she had overreacted. “Sorry. It’s a tender subject. My word is very important to me, and as yet, Mikhail hasn’t proven himself worth helping. He is entirely too selfish.”

  Idalie looked like she wanted to say more, but held her tongue.

  “It was good talking,” Klara said, meaning it. “I really do need to sleep, though.”

  Idalie smiled. “The pleasure was mine. I hope we can talk again in the future.”

  “Well, I’m here for twelve weeks, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Klara said, turning to leave. If she was honest, she found herself looking forward to getting to know Idalie. Despite the odd moment of tension, it had been a pleasant conversation. Easily the nicest since arriving in Borovsk…