Part One Chapter One

Rune tossed the hay down from the loft before leaning the pitchfork against the solid wooden wall. She gripped the ladder and slid down the sides, as she had countless times before, the leather gloves she was wearing making it easy. The dust rose up around her bare feet when she hit the floor. She knew she should be wearing the shoes she would have to by midmorning, but nothing at all was more comfortable than the small, cramped shoes she'd been handed down from her foster sister, Miriyah.

She tugged at the neckline of the wool dress she wore, scratching irritably at her itchy skin. Also a second hand item once belonging to Miriyah. It chafed horribly, but it was the only thing that remotely fitted her. She hissed when, once again, a strand of hair fell in her face. She pushed it away and then succumbed and braided her hair. Rune liked it out of her way most of the time, but Canyi, her foster mother, had demanded she wear it down for the festivities, so that she would "slightly resemble a member of their family". Rune didn't know what Canyi was worried about.

It wasn't like the family would ever be seen with her.

She thought it extremely ridiculous that she'd been told to put on the dress before her morning chores. Not very practical, but then, her foster mother was and always would be a silly, flighty individual. Canyi seemed determined to make Rune's life as uncomfortable as possible, and Rune had accepted, though didn't exactly appreciate, that this was her lot in life.

Rune sighed. It wasn't the first time she wished she could have known her true parents. She knew of them, of what they were, and how they'd died. Often she would dream of them and what they were like, maybe try to catch a glimpse of her mother's face in her dreams. But there was nothing she could do about it, stuck in an unloving home on the other side of the world. Sometime she felt she should do something to avenge them, but it was pointless. She'd probably never leave the town, forget the country.

She sighed again. Louder.

"What are you huffing about, dear sister," Miriyah drawled, straightening from where she'd been leaning against the open door to the stables. She brushed her fingertips down a lock of her glistening blonde hair then absently flicked it over her shoulder. "Aw, how cute. Wearing my old clothes. Don't know how mother could have thought you'd fit them with your...build." She was obviously referring to Rune's breasts, which could never hope to reach the vast expanses of Miriyah's own. Rune had always thought it a silly thing to be proud of such appendages when they gave Miriyah a hunchbacked gait and made her seem rather heavy-set.

Rune was also acutely aware of the way the dress refused to completely settle, being far too small for Rune's broad shoulders. She'd been a rather small, scrawny child, and the scrawniness hadn't changed. But once she'd hit adolescence she'd grown like a weed, and despite her vehement, pointless protests, hadn't stopped growing since. One would think that at the age of sixteen, a girl would've reached maximum height. Evidently no one had told her body.

Rune knew better than to answer in a less than polite tone, having been taught at a young age that she'd rather enjoy the lash of her foster sister's tongue than that of her foster father's belt. The few scars on her back were tantamount to the fact that she had learned fast and well. Even when she had been young, she'd been determined not to give her foster father any reason to find fault with her. She'd only failed in this a few times.

"Me either," Rune said, trying to keep her tone cordial. By the way her sister's eyes narrowed triumphantly, she knew she hadn't succeeded, and knew as well that one of them would have to leave before she wrung her "darling sister's" throat. Thankfully, Miriya got bored easily. So after simply giving her a malicious grin for a few moments, she lifted her chin haughtily and tugged at her night shift. Rune wondered briefly and irrationally what the townsfolk would say if they saw the girl now, her gown hanging down about a foot from her body because of her enormous breasts. She had to stifle a giggle.

"Well, I must go get dressed in some nice clothes."

Rune simply nodded, and then gritted her teeth, miming splitting Miriyah's head open with an ice pick as she sauntered away. Breathing deeply and slowly, Rune got her anger back under control and tugged once more at the dress, lifting her shoulders a little, tilting her head from side to side, trying to get more comfortable. Finally, admitting to herself that she was fighting a losing battle, she hefted the hay and spread it in the stalls. A black mare nudged at her shoulder, and Rune obliged by rubbing her nose. The horse snorted a little, and went to munching on the end of her braid. Laughing, feeling a little better, Rune gently nudged the mare's head away and fed the others.

Ever since she'd found this place to be a refuge from the pressures of her home, she'd taken to venturing out into the stable every morning and night. Eventually, Talyn had all but confined her to them. For a stable master, he spent surprisingly little time in them, leaving most of the care to her. It wasn't trust in her abilities, it was laziness and his latent desire to drink himself into a stupor every day no matter the time.

Rune stayed in the stables even after she'd finished her morning chores. Miriya would be locked in the bathhouse for the next hour, but Kaltain would still be prowling around, and Rune didn't like her other foster sister any better. The girl was less obviously hostile, but always followed her sister's example. Often she satisfied herself with muttering and spreading rumors. As if Rune's childhood hadn't been bad enough as a halfblood among a people who looked down on it as something of a disease, she had had to hear the taunts of children who had somehow come up with the idea that she dug through the compost piles out back for food, and that on a full moon she was staked outside her house "just in case". It might have been entertaining once, maybe the first or second time it had happened. But once Kaltain really discovered what hurt, it became painful just for Rune to leave her home. So she'd stopped going into the town square, and took to going out into the fields surrounding Aggin.

Rune sighed and scrubbed her face with one dirty hand. Kaltain wouldn't be caught dead outside without her hair or face done, so Rune figured she was in the clear until the festival started.

She didn't want to be holed up in the stables for two hours, she muttered mentally. She tucked the end of her braid up into a bun, as she often did, and headed out towards the fields, her long legs eating up the distance. Her bare feet brushed over the new, springy grass, and she reveled in the feeling of freedom that gave her. Canyi wouldn't allow her the peace to sleep in her bed until the festivities, but she didn't really care what Rune did outside the home, as long as it wasn't embarrassing the family. As if.

Rune groaned as she emerged and saw exactly where the pavilion had been set up. It was spread out before the forest line, blocking easy passage towards the rolling hills beyond. So much for that. With a long-suffering sigh, she headed back home.

***

"Almost time, Miriya. Get out! Mommy said to get out! It's my turn," Kaltain whined, banging on the door, and whimpering as she then blew on the irritated skin. Miriya sniffed in irritation and bent closer to the mirror.

"Well, you're just going to have to wait a little longer. My hair isn't done yet." And neither is my face, but if Kaltain felt there was a change of early emergence, she'd most likely shut up.

"Can I come in while you do that?" The edge was back in Kaltain's nasally voice. It had been thought for a period the week before that that unfortunate effect had left her, perhaps as a temporary effect of adolescence drawing to a close. However, as it would seem, it was not to be.

"Fine," Miriyah said, crossly, throwing her arms to the ceiling. It was useless trying to get anything done with that brat hovering around her. As soon as Kaltain entered and the two were working doggedly at their appearances, however, it was as usual.

"Oh gods!" Kaltain squealed. "Only another half hour! Today will be wonderful." She brushed rapidly at her hair, then slowed and began to count the strokes. She'd only recently started doing that, as it was evidently a fad started by the infamous inner circle of Aggin. Kaltain often lost count, but would continue to look as if she were concentrating to cultivate the illusion that she was a perfect little girl. Canyi had encouraged the development, though it was beyond Miriyah as to why. It slowed down the morning routine, and it was simply annoying to hear Kaltain chanting random numbers under her breath.

But Miriya nodded. "Father says merchant Alder will be there." She was truly excited about this, for the merchant was rather wealthy and she had longed for an escape from her dull household life for many a year. Ever since she'd turned seventeen, in fact. So she had waited four long years, and here was finally her chance.

"I can't wait to meet his sons! Have you heard? He has three!"

"Within a few days, just think. We could be betrothed!" Have I heard, Miriyah thought with a disgusted snort. She'd only been dwelling on the fact for the last month and a half. As the oldest, knew she'd be the first to marry. And to a merchants son? It was wonderful to imagine; to be pampered and well off was her modest goal, and it seemed that it would soon be realized.

"Right. Let me concentrate," Kaltain scowled, as if she had not been the one to instigate the conversation. And she instantly turned to the polished metal to see if she'd made any wrinkles. Though she was a young woman at the age of sixteen, she often acted far from her true age, either in acting like a spoiled child, or in acting like a spoiled woman late in her thirties who was worried of aging and spent every waking hour dabbing cream and brushing powder onto her face.

In relief at finding no such sign of wrinkles, she pulled her blue, gold-embroidered dress on and stretched to tie it. With a certain amount of unlady-like grunting and after hoping about on one foot and not watching where she was going, she managed to do so. Miriyah shoved her off her foot and went back to the mirror. When Kaltain shoved her aside to peer into the shiny surface, she saw a ravishing beauty with a curly auburn cascade that any man would love to cherish. Brown eyes identical to her sisters looked back at her, but she'd be the first to tell someone that her eyes were certainly a more glowing, almost golden brown than her sister's rather plain chocolate brown ones.

The blue dress did indeed flatter her figure, and flared into a train that put her in the mind of a mythical mer-creature. She laughed at herself. That kind of fanciful nonsense was more the orphan's style than hers. "It wouldn't take much to land a husband tonight," she mused, brushing her eyebrows into a more ruly line.

Miriya was too busy with her own preparations to answer. She ran a wooden brush through her long hair a few times, then stuffed it into a drawer. "Lovely," she finally sighed, smugly snapping her cosmetics closed and tossing them into the basket. Her dress was a bright red and hugged her ample curves, perfectly tailored so that for once, she didn't look fat, though she wouldn't have seen it that way. She also saw a lovely maiden with a dress that only accentuated her already wonderful body.

"Ah," she breathed, gazing at her reflection while gazing from liquid eyes under heavy lashes. "It will be a perfect day. Nothing will ruin it." She heard the front door slam and her eyes slitted. "Absolutely nothing." And then she anxiously checked the skin around her eyes for wrinkles.

***

The bells sounded. They were the only things Aggin had left over from its former days of glory as a successful port town. Usually it would have announced the coming of ships arriving to bear trade items or passengers, but ships never came anymore. Often now they heralded a change in seasons, or perhaps just an event such as this. The Festival of Brotherhood was one of the biggest celebrations that Aggin recognized, and therefore planning began more than three months beforehand. And the result was a truly fantastic event

Rune opened her eyes and blinked, surprised that she had fallen asleep leaning against her wall. In disgust, she straightened and tried to get the crick out of her neck, wondering why, if she was going to fall asleep, she hadn't simply laid down on her bed. It had always been easy for her to sleep anywhere, but in an itchy dress leaning against a rough wall? She clambered to her feet, a little clumsy from sitting so awkwardly, and peeked out of her slightly open door. The others were just getting ready to leave, judging from the sounds of feet and the creak of the wooden hallway floor. Rune pulled on the small shoes and unbraided her hair, tucking the string into her right shoe and running her fingers through it haphazardly. Then, knowing it was probably a useless gesture, she lifted her boots from the shelf and held them behind her back. With any luck, Canyi would show little to no interest in what her adopted child was up to and would altogether overlook the rather conspicuous position of her arm.

When none of her family cared whether she was there or not, she might be able to slip off and put them on. Now, however, it was necessary she make an appearance, so she took a calming breath and strode to the front hallway.

"Where have you been?" Canyi snapped. "You're a mess." Rune ignored this. She'd always be "a mess". "We've got to hurry now, Talyn's already there. You've held us up, girl." Kaltain sneered at her dress and then proceeded to ignore her. Miriyah didn't even glance at her. That was fine with her, and was actually kind of an improvement. With Miriyah so focused on her acquisition of her future luckless mate, she'd be unable to make Rune's life a living hell.

"Well, come on. We're already going to be late because of you," Canyi hissed, as if Rune where the one now holding them prisoner in their home. And so began the Festival of Brotherhood.

***

As soon as they arrived, Rune knew she wouldn't be noticed if she decided to slip away just then. As every other year, the entire town was there, and everyone would, as usual, act like she wasn't there. As a half-breed, she'd often endured this. It was the only thing that got to her, but she tried not to let it. She was not the status quo, and the townsfolk were, if anything exceedingly normal, and liked it that way.

She looked over the tables of food and breathed the clashing scents in, enjoying the sensation of appreciating it alone. Rune then got herself a plateful, taking it with her to the edge of the pavilion. There she went behind a tent flap and ate, listening to the sounds of music and the laughing and stamping of feet. It was probably an enjoyable occasion, and had she not always been so reclusive, she may have actually gotten the townspeople to accept her. But acceptance had never been her number one concern.

It was good food, most of it made by Saetha, the baker, the rest by the inn, The Flowering Rose, that despite everything, maintained modest business. The dessert she was currently eating melted on her tongue, and the sugar made her smile in the thought of the horror Kaltain would have felt at the perceived threat to her thin frame. That made her enjoy it all the more.

When she had finished, she dumped her plate in the bin with a clang, ignoring the glare from the heavy man who was guarding it like a dragon guarding treasure, and went off. Not slowing at all, she bent low and scooped up her boots, then headed back to the house, hopping on each foot in turn as she worked the other shoes off. Each came off with a pop. She paused to delight in the feeling of air on her feet, wriggling her toes, and abruptly stuffed them into her boots, which were soft and well worn.

Rune braided her hair, not even really needing to, just wanting to do something she knew Canyi would disapprove of. When she reached up to do so, the dress bunched around her neck, causing her to slap at it in irritation. She entered her home, knowing it wouldn't be locked, and pushed the front door shut behind her with her foot. Then she looked around. And sighed.

The sadness once more pressed down upon her, producing an incessant tickling in the back of her throat. Usually she beat it back, but today, it seemed, she was unable to. To make herself feel better, she searched through her few clothes for the most comfortable, finally pulling out a black long sleeved cotton shirt and blue pants, also made of cotton.

They had been her father's and, while loose on her, made her feel closer to him, and the feeling of such clothes on her skin always made her feel ten times better. Without thinking of why she was doing it, she also took out her father's pack, another thing she had of her parents. They'd been left by her parents' assassins as something of no import. All these items were the only true link she had to her parents, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out exactly why that made her happy.

She drew the two daggers that always drew her attention, and had in fact been the first thing she'd touched of theirs. She studied them for a few moments, noting the intricate detail of the silver hilts and the runes running down the blades. Rune absently traced these with her long fingers, enjoying the silky feeling of them against her rough skin and the dips of the metal that her fingers always found intentionally. The blades were bigger than on any daggers she'd seen, not very wide, just rather long. They were made of something extremely strong, though she'd once thought them just a normal alloy. She knew because she'd tested them on all kinds of surfaces and had never notched the surface, only the thing she'd been poking at. It had infuriated Canyi to find new scratches on her mirror, she thought with a grin.

Rune slid them home in the pockets hidden in the lining of her father's boots that had been made especially for those particular daggers. The sides of the leather didn't bulge, and the daggers against her ankles had never bothered her. She smiled and stomped her feet, liking the heaviness, but knowing normal daggers would have been much heavier. And as she straightened, letting her fingers linger on the cold silver hilts, then drop away, she heard something that froze her soul.