The commission lasted less than an hour on Green Trail’s board.
That surprised Ciel.
Mara’s notice was deliberately unremarkable.
Voss Appraisals seeks intact Grade One Green Feather Pigeon cores.
Premium paid for undamaged specimens suitable for artifact refinement.
Other carcass materials negotiable separately.
No mention of Whisper Earrings.
No mention of sympathetic resonance.
No mention of why Voss Appraisals suddenly wanted Wind-attributed cores.
Just materials.
Apparently materials were enough.
Three Green Trail teams registered interest before noon.
By afternoon, two had already arranged departure.
Ciel looked at the board.
“That fast?” Elena stood beside her.
“You offered a premium.” “Mara complained about the premium.” “Senior Voss complains about every price above free.” From behind them: “I heard that.” Neither turned.
Mara continued examining a bronze mirror.
Ciel lowered her voice.
“How difficult are Green Feather Pigeons?” “To kill?” “To bring back with the core intact.” Elena considered.
“More annoying.” “Why?” “They fly.” “I had noticed the name.” “They fly quickly.” “Better.” “They change direction faster than most ordinary birds.” “Wonderful.” “And once the flock realizes you’re hunting them, they scatter.” Ciel stared.
Elena smiled.
“That’s why Green Trail accepted the commission.” The Green Feather Pigeon was a strange spirit beast to fear.
It was a pigeon.
Larger than an ordinary one, certainly.
A mature specimen could have a wingspan approaching that of a small eagle.
Its feathers ranged from deep green to pale jade.
Its claws were hard enough to scratch ordinary steel.
Its bones were light and spiritually receptive.
Its meat contained traces of Qi.
Its feathers were useful in Wind-attributed artifacts.
Its claws could become arrowheads, hooks, needles or small blades.
Its core was the truly valuable part.
Even its hide had uses.
Unfortunately, hide did not become leather merely because someone wished very hard.
Mara had no tanning skill.
“If they bring skin,” she explained, “we sell it to someone who knows what they’re doing.” Ciel frowned.
“You can refine artifacts.” “I can.” “You can repair formations.” “Sometimes.” “You can appraise ancient materials.” “Usually.” “But you can’t make leather?” Mara looked offended.
“Can you?” “No.” “Then we agree it is a specialized profession.” That was difficult to dispute.
Elena volunteered for one of the hunting teams.
Mara objected immediately.
“No.” Elena looked at her.
“You posted a commission for flying spirit beasts.” “Yes.” “I’m an archer.” “Nominally.” Elena placed one hand against her chest.
“Your cruelty has become habitual.” Mara pointed toward the bow on Elena’s back.
“Your weapon remains mortal.” “For another two spirit stones.” “You said that yesterday.” “I haven’t found two spirit stones growing on a tree.” Ciel looked at Elena’s pouch.
After the White Minnow hunt and the Yearly Gathering, Elena possessed a little over ten low-grade spirit stones.
A used cultivator-grade bow she had been watching for months cost twelve.
Almost there.
Almost was not enough.
Elena crossed her arms.
“You’re paying for intact cores.” “Correct.” “Then you want someone who knows where not to shoot.” Mara paused.
That was unfortunately reasonable.
Ciel added: “And Green Trail is sending several teams.
She won’t be alone.” Mara looked at her disciple.
“You are not helping.” “I thought I was.” “You are.” “Then—” “That is the problem.” Elena smiled.
Green Trail approved Elena’s participation the next morning.
The recommendation came through one of the senior offices.
That immediately made Elena suspicious.
“Recommended by whom?” The clerk checked.
“Senior Orlan Greaves.” Elena frowned.
“Why?” “He believes your archery and familiarity with Voss Appraisals make you suitable.” That was entirely reasonable.
Which only made Elena more suspicious.
Senior Greaves was Seventh Layer.
One of the seniors who had voted with Cole at the Gathering.
Not important enough to openly challenge Merrow.
Important enough to matter.
Kell looked over the assignment sheet.
“Saltgrass Cliffs.” “You coming?” “Yes.” Elena relaxed slightly.
Then Kell pointed lower.
“We’re not one group.” Three teams would search neighboring sections of the coast.
Kell led one.
Elena joined him with another Qi4 hunter and two mortal assistants.
A second team covered the northern cliffs.
A third covered the marshward side.
Among the names in the third group was one Elena recognized.
Garran Vey.
Qi Condensation Layer Three.
She knew him mostly because he had spent part of the Yearly Gathering glaring at Merrow’s supporters.
“Friend of yours?” Kell asked.
“No.” “Enemy?” “No.” “Then why the face?” “He’s one of Cole’s people.” “Half Green Trail is somebody’s people.” “That’s comforting.” “It wasn’t supposed to be.” The Saltgrass Cliffs were less dramatic than their name suggested.
Long gray cliffs faced the sea.
Pale green grass grew in thick mats wherever stone allowed soil to accumulate.
Salt from ocean spray whitened the lower rock.
The wind never seemed to stop.
Perfect for Green Feather Pigeons.
Terrible for archery.
Elena stood near the cliff edge and watched the first flock circle far above.
Nine birds.
Maybe ten.
Their green feathers flashed whenever they turned.
Kell shaded his eyes.
“Can you hit one?” “Yes.” “Without destroying the core?” Elena hesitated.
“Probably.” “Excellent confidence.” “If you want certainty, hire Senior Voss.” “She charges per question.” “And now you understand why.” The first team had brought nets.
The second used bait.
Kell’s group had Elena.
That was apparently the entire strategy.
The problem became obvious quickly.
The pigeons were fast.
Not merely because they had wings.
When a Green Feather Pigeon changed direction, Wind Qi briefly gathered along the edges of its feathers.
Not enough to create some grand technique.
Enough to make the turn unnaturally sharp.
One moment the bird flew east.
The next— down.
Then sideways.
Elena released.
The arrow passed through empty air.
Kell looked at her.
“No commentary.” “I said nothing.” “You were thinking loudly.” The pigeons scattered.
They waited again.
The second attempt went better.
Elena aimed not where the bird was— but where the flock’s movement left it few places to go.
The mortal bow bent.
Creaked.
Elena stopped before reaching her full strength.
That irritated her every time.
She released.
The arrow crossed the wind.
The pigeon twisted.
The arrow clipped one wing.
The bird tumbled.
Not dead.
Kell moved.
He covered the distance with Seventh Layer speed before the wounded beast could recover.
One hand caught it.
The other twisted.
A brief crack.
Done.
Elena grimaced.
“Core?” “Hopefully.” “No chest damage.” Kell inspected it.
“Good shot.” “Would have been better with a real bow.” Kell looked at the weapon.
“It knows you’re replacing it.” “I think it’s becoming spiteful.” By midday, Green Trail had one bird.
One.
Three teams.
Hours of work.
One pigeon.
Ciel’s premium suddenly seemed less generous.
The carcass was carefully opened by someone with actual hunting experience.
Elena watched.
Feathers separated first.
Then claws.
Blood preserved.
Bones left mostly intact.
The core emerged last.
Pale green.
Smaller than Dorian’s Courier core.
Undamaged.
Elena smiled.
“One.” Kell held it against the light.
“One core.” “Senior Voss wanted cores.” “She wanted suitable cores.” Elena’s smile weakened.
Right.
They still did not know whether this one could be divided.
One intact core was only the beginning.
The second flock appeared in the afternoon.
This one flew lower.
Several hunters from different teams repositioned.
Nobody shouted.
Nobody wanted to scatter the birds early.
Elena crouched between saltgrass and stone.
Her bow rested horizontally.
A bird descended toward bait.
Another followed.
A third remained high.
She chose the lowest.
Not chest.
Neck if possible.
Wing if necessary.
Her fingers tightened.
A movement flashed farther north.
Another hunter.
Too early.
His arrow flew.
Missed.
The entire flock exploded upward.
Elena cursed.
Her target climbed.
She drew farther than she normally dared.
The bow creaked.
More.
Her arms had strength left.
The bow did not.
She released before something broke.
The arrow climbed.
Missed the body.
Caught the inner wing.
The pigeon spun toward the cliff.
Elena stood.
“I’ve got it.” Kell looked down the slope.
“Don’t chase it alone.” “It’s wounded.” “Elena.” “It’ll recover.” The bird struck a lower shelf.
Flapped.
Slid.
Another few breaths and it might fly.
Elena was already moving.
Kell swore.
“I’ll circle down.” “I can reach it.” “Don’t fall.” “Excellent advice.” She disappeared down the narrow trail between the rocks.
The pigeon had fallen farther than expected.
Elena found blood on one stone.
A feather on another.
Then nothing.
She followed the shelf around a bend.
The sea crashed far below.
Wind pushed against her clothes.
She heard the pigeon before she saw it.
Flapping.
Scratching.
There.
Wedged against a patch of saltgrass.
Elena approached carefully.
The creature hissed.
Pigeons, she discovered, became significantly less dignified once they developed spiritual claws.
She drew her dagger.
The pigeon snapped at her.
“Don’t.” It did.
Elena moved.
One quick strike.
Done.
She exhaled.
“Two.” “Only one.” The voice came from behind her.
Elena turned.
Garran Vey stood at the bend in the path.
She frowned.
“What are you doing here?” He smiled.
“Helping.” “I don’t need help.” “I can see that.” His eyes dropped toward the dead pigeon.
Then her pouch.
Elena’s hand remained near her dagger.
“Your team is north.” “So?” “So Kell is coming.” “Eventually.” Something in his tone changed the air.
Elena straightened.
“Garran.” “Junior Ward.” He emphasized the title.
“You’ve been fortunate lately.” Elena said nothing.
“Very fortunate.” He stepped closer.
“Captains asking for you.” “Senior Merrow praising you.” “Five spirit stones for sitting through a meeting.” There it was.
Elena’s fingers tightened.
“What do you want?” Garran smiled.
“Your senior gave you five stones.” “Hand them over.” Elena stared.
For one moment, she thought he was joking.
He was not.
“Why?” “Because you didn’t earn them.” Elena almost laughed.
“Senior Merrow disagreed.” “Senior Merrow needed an excuse.” That, unfortunately, was true.
Garran stepped closer again.
“You’ve mistaken luck for status.” “Give me the stones.” “I’ll forget your arrogance.” Elena slowly drew her hand away from the pouch.
“No.” His smile disappeared.
“Think carefully.” “I did.” “You’re Second Layer.” Elena’s expression changed.
Not because the statement frightened her.
Because it was lazy.
“Is that supposed to convince me?” Garran’s eyes hardened.
“You’re becoming disrespectful.” He looked over her.
Not at the bow.
Not at the dagger.
At her.
Then smiled again.
“Give me the stones.” “Behave properly.” “And perhaps I’ll even take you as a concubine.” The wind continued moving.
The sea continued striking stone.
For several heartbeats, Elena heard neither.
Something cold settled in her stomach.
Not fear exactly.
Not only fear.
She remembered too many stories.
Too many women who had been weaker than the man deciding what happened next.
Garran mistook her silence for uncertainty.
“You should be grateful.” “A Third Layer cultivator offering protection—” Elena drew.
Not the dagger.
The bow.
Garran moved faster.
One layer mattered.
His sword left its sheath.
Grade One metal.
Elena released an ordinary arrow.
Clang.
The sword knocked it aside.
He closed half the distance.
Elena stepped backward.
Drew again.
Too slow.
Garran slashed.
She raised the bow instinctively.
Steel struck reinforced wood.
CRACK.
Elena felt the vibration through both arms.
The bow survived.
Barely.
“You idiot!” She jumped back.
Garran laughed.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” “Do you know how long I’ve been saving for this?” “It’s a mortal bow.” “Exactly!” She reached for another arrow.
He lunged.
Elena abandoned the shot and moved sideways.
His sword cut cloth.
Then skin.
Pain burned across her upper arm.
Not deep.
Deep enough.
Elena’s heartbeat accelerated.
Garran smiled.
“Last chance.” She looked at the blood.
Then him.
“No.” The artifact arrow came free from its separate case.
Garran saw it.
His expression changed.
He knew enough to recognize quality.
“So the rumors were true.” Elena placed it against the string.
The damaged bow creaked.
Garran did not rush immediately this time.
He watched her hands.
Smart enough to respect the arrow.
Not smart enough to leave.
“That must be worth more than five stones.” Elena drew.
Earth Qi flowed.
Not all of it.
She did not need all of it.
Not at this distance.
The target was close.
Less time outside her body.
Less Qi lost before impact.
Gray stone formed around the Blackmarsh Needle Viper fang.
Thinner than during the Python hunt.
Enough.
Garran moved.
Elena released.
His sword flashed.
The arrow curved.
Only slightly.
A broad correction.
Exactly what he did not expect.
The sword struck empty air.
The artifact arrow entered his thigh.
Garran screamed.
The Earth coating shattered inside the wound.
His leg folded.
Elena stumbled.
Her own Qi reserve dropped sharply.
Not empty.
Closer than she liked.
Garran looked down.
Saw the fletching.
Saw blood.
Rage replaced surprise.
“You—” Elena drew her dagger.
“Stay there.” He ripped the arrow out.
That was a mistake.
Blood followed.
More importantly— so did several fragments of Earth-infused flint.
Not all of them.
Garran swore.
His sword trembled.
“You poisoned me?” “Yes.” Technically the arrow had.
Elena did not think the distinction would comfort him.
He attacked anyway.
Third Layer speed.
Even injured, faster than her.
The sword came from above.
Elena moved.
Too late.
The blade cut across her shoulder.
Pain exploded.
She almost dropped the dagger.
Garran kicked.
Elena hit stone.
Her breath disappeared.
The dagger remained in her hand.
Barely.
He limped closer.
“You should have listened.” Elena tried to rise.
Her arm shook.
The artifact arrow lay several paces away.
Too far.
Her bow— cracked badly.
Useless.
Garran raised the sword.
Elena looked down.
Saltgrass.
Dust.
Stone.
Earth.
Her Qi moved into the dagger.
Unlike an arrow— it did not leave her hand.
The energy did not have to survive twenty paces of open air.
Gray mineral growth crawled across the blade.
Rough.
Jagged.
Flint over steel.
Cheap compared with the arrow.
Garran saw it.
Too late.
He slashed.
Elena rolled inside the swing.
His injured leg failed to adjust quickly enough.
Her dagger entered beneath his ribs.
The Earth edge broke.
Fragments tore deeper.
Garran’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Surprise.
Elena pulled the dagger free.
He struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
She fell.
He did not.
For one terrible moment, Elena thought the difference in cultivation had been too much.
Then Garran coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
His sword lowered.
He looked at Elena.
At the dagger.
At the hole beneath his ribs.
He tried to take one more step.
His injured leg gave way.
He fell to one knee.
Then both.
The sword struck stone.
Elena remained on the ground.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Garran did not move again.
Kell found her several minutes later.
He arrived fast enough to send gravel flying.
His gaze took in the scene in one sweep.
Garran.
Blood.
Sword.
Broken bow.
Elena.
His expression became very still.
“Alive?” “Unfortunately.” Kell immediately knelt.
“How bad?” “Arm.” “Shoulder.” “Ribs hurt.” “Head?” “Still attached.” “Good.” He checked her eyes.
Then the cut.
Then the shoulder.
Only after determining Elena was not about to die did he look at Garran.
“What happened?” Elena leaned back against the stone.
“He wanted my five stones.” Kell’s face did not change.
“He said Senior Merrow gave them to me for nothing.” A pause.
“And?” “He said if I handed them over…” Elena stopped.
Kell waited.
“…he might take me as his concubine.” Kell slowly turned toward the corpse.
“Ah.” That single sound contained more violence than shouting would have.
Elena looked at him.
“I said no.” “I gathered.” The other hunters arrived gradually.
Questions followed.
Elena repeated the story.
Nobody found evidence that Garran had been secretly attacked by someone else.
Nobody found a second enemy.
Nobody disputed the wounds.
Garran’s sword carried Elena’s blood.
Her artifact arrow had his.
The sequence was ugly.
Also obvious.
Green Trail had rules for members attacking one another during registered missions.
Most had been written after earlier incidents.
A member who attempted robbery against another member outside the city forfeited Green Trail protection in the resulting fight.
If he died— his personal field possessions could be claimed by the victim as immediate compensation, subject to later dispute over registered organizational property.
Garran had no organizational artifacts.
His sword was his.
His pouch was his.
So were the three low-grade spirit stones inside it.
Elena stared when Kell counted them.
“Three.” Kell handed them to her.
She did not take them immediately.
“He tried to rob me for five while carrying three?” “Greed is rarely an accounting profession.” Eventually she took them.
The sword was Grade One.
Not excellent.
Better than anything Elena owned except her arrow.
She had no intention of becoming a sword cultivator.
Kell looked at the weapon.
“Keep it.” “I don’t use swords.” “Sell it.” That was more interesting.
Someone found the dead pigeon.
The irony irritated Elena.
Her second shot of the day had preserved the core perfectly.
Garran had nearly killed her.
The pigeon had behaved beautifully.
“Two cores now,” she said.
Kell stared at her.
“You are bleeding through your sleeve.” “I know.” “And you’re counting cores.” “Senior Voss is paying.” Kell sighed.
“You’re spending too much time around Mara.” The hunt ended early for Elena.
Not for Green Trail.
Kell escorted her back toward the road while the remaining teams continued searching.
By sunset, another group had taken a third Green Feather Pigeon.
Three teams.
One day.
Three mature spirit beasts.
Three intact cores.
Not bad.
Especially considering none of the carcasses had been destroyed.
The hunters also recovered: bundles of green spiritual feathers, claws hard enough to score ordinary metal, light bones, blood, meat, and several hides.
The hides never reached Voss Appraisals.
Green Trail sold them directly to a spiritual leatherworker.
Mara had been very clear: “Do not bring me untreated hides and expect gratitude.” The feathers, claws, bones and cores were another matter.
Those came to the shop.
So did Elena.
Bandaged.
Bruised.
With a cracked bow in one hand.
And a dead man’s sword in the other.
Ciel saw the bandages first.
Everything else ceased to matter.
“What happened?” Elena had barely entered.
“I’m fine.” “What happened?” “Someone was stupid.” “Who?” “He’s dead.” Ciel stopped.
The shop became very quiet.
Mara looked up from behind the counter.
Her eyes moved from Elena’s injuries— to the sword— to Kell standing behind her.
“What happened?” Kell answered.
“Garran Vey attempted to rob her during the commission.” Mara’s expression hardened.
“Green Trail member?” “Yes.” “Realm?” “Third Layer.” Ciel looked at Elena.
“You fought a Third Layer cultivator?” Elena tried to smile.
“He was very cooperative about getting poisoned.” Ciel did not laugh.
Elena noticed.
Her smile disappeared.
Kell continued.
“He threatened her.” “Demanded the five stones from the Gathering.” “Then made an offer regarding concubinage.” Mara’s eyes became cold.
Ciel went still.
For a moment, the shop was not Voss Appraisals.
There were bars.
A cage.
Someone screaming.
A dead girl.
A bandit camp.
Helplessness.
Elena touched Ciel’s wrist.
“I’m here.” Ciel blinked.
The shop returned.
Elena was bruised.
Bleeding slightly through one bandage.
Alive.
Standing.
Ciel swallowed.
“Did he…” “No.” The answer came immediately.
“He didn’t.” Ciel nodded once.
Then again.
Mara watched both girls.
Said nothing.
Kell placed Garran’s sword on the counter.
“His property.” Mara picked it up.
Turned it.
Tested the balance.
Injected a thread of Qi.
The metal responded faintly.
“Grade One material.” Elena brightened slightly.
“How much?” “Poor refinement.” Her expression fell.
“It’s still Grade One.” “The material is.” Mara examined the edge.
“Uneven spiritual conduction.” “Bad temper line.” “Minimal inscriptions.” She frowned.
“Who made this?” “Dead man didn’t say.” “Perhaps death was embarrassment.” Elena leaned against the counter.
“How much?” Mara considered.
“Two stones.” Elena stared.
“Two?” “I will need to regrind part of the edge, correct the conduction, add at least one useful inscription and then find a buyer.” “It’s a Grade One sword.” “Then you refine it.” Elena was silent.
“…Two is fine.” Mara smiled.
Commerce restored her mood remarkably quickly.
She counted two low-grade spirit stones onto the counter.
Elena added them mentally.
A little over ten before the mission.
Three from Garran.
Two for the sword.
Her eyes widened.
Ciel saw it.
“You have enough.” Elena looked at her.
“The bow.” “Twelve stones.” “If it’s still there.” Elena turned toward the door.
Mara said: “Sit.” Elena stopped.
“What?” “You are injured.” “The shop might sell it.” “Then it sells.” “Senior Voss.” “Sit.” Elena looked desperately at Kell.
He crossed his arms.
“I vote with Mara.” “You only get a vote once a year.” “I am extending the principle.” Elena sat.
Very unhappily.
The pigeon materials arrived shortly afterward.
One sack landed on the counter.
Then another.
Ciel opened the first.
Green.
So much green.
Dozens upon dozens of feathers.
Some soft.
Some long and rigid.
Wind Qi lingered faintly within them.
The second container held harder materials.
Claws.
Bones.
Several preserved pieces.
The claws fascinated Ciel.
They were not large.
Curved.
Dark green-gray.
When she pressed one carefully against a cheap iron scrap, it left a line.
“Sharp.” “Spirit beast,” Kell said.
Mara ignored everything except the cores.
Three small pale-green crystals rested in padded cases.
She washed her hands.
Then examined the first.
Light.
Qi.
Rotation.
A probing thread of energy.
Nothing.
She put it aside.
Second.
Longer.
Ciel waited.
Mara frowned.
Put it aside.
Third.
She rotated it once.
Then again.
Stopped.
Ciel leaned closer.
“What?” “Maybe.” Elena looked up.
“Maybe what?” Mara held the core toward the lamp.
A faint line crossed its interior.
Not a crack.
Something subtler.
A boundary in the spiritual growth.
Ciel’s pulse accelerated.
“Can it be split?” Mara immediately corrected her.
“It can be attempted.” Right.
Attempted.
An intact core was not automatically two usable cores.
One wrong cut— expensive gravel.
Mara placed it carefully apart from the others.
“Three hunts.” “Three cores.” “One candidate.” Elena sighed.
“Voss Appraisals truly knows how to make hunters feel valued.” Mara ignored her.
Ciel continued sorting the remaining materials.
Feathers.
Claws.
Bones.
The feathers responded when she passed Qi through one.
Barely.
Ciel had no elemental affinity.
Her Qi entered.
The feather trembled.
Air moved across her fingers.
Tiny.
But obvious.
She tried another.
Same result.
The Wind Qi inside the material did part of the work for her.
“Ciel.” She looked up.
Mara was staring.
“I’m only testing.” “That sentence has cost me money before.” Ciel put the feather down.
For now.
Then her eyes fell on Elena again.
Bandage across the shoulder.
Bruise beginning along one cheek.
Broken mortal bow leaning against the wall.
Artifact arrow case beside her.
Dagger at her waist.
Elena had survived.
But only just.
An archer at range.
A dagger when someone reached her.
Nothing between those two distances.
Ciel looked at the feathers.
Then at one of the curved claws.
A thought appeared.
Not complete.
Barely even a shape.
Something that could make distance.
Something that did not require killing.
Something small enough to carry.
Her fingers picked up a feather.
Then a claw.
Mara noticed.
“What are you thinking?” “Nothing.” Mara stared.
Ciel corrected herself.
“Nothing finished.” That was apparently worse.
Elena finally bought the bow the next morning.
The used Earthhorn Bow was still there.
Twelve low-grade spirit stones.
A fortune.
Elena placed the stones on the counter one by one.
The weapon seller counted every one.
Then handed it over.
The bow was darker than her old one.
Spirit-beast horn reinforced the limbs.
The string contained Grade One tendon.
There were scratches along the grip.
One repair near the lower limb.
It was not beautiful.
Elena loved it immediately.
Outside the shop, Ciel watched her draw.
A little.
More.
More.
Elena stopped.
Her expression changed.
“What?” Ciel asked.
Elena drew farther.
The bow bent.
Smoothly.
No frightened creaking.
No cracking wood.
No feeling that she was about to destroy months of savings by using her actual strength.
Her smile widened.
“It doesn’t hate me.” Ciel laughed.
“Try it.” Elena nocked an ordinary arrow.
Aimed at the practice target behind the weapon shop.
Drew.
This time she did not stop early.
The string reached her cheek.
Her Layer Two body pulled against spirit-beast horn and tendon.
For the first time, the weapon pushed back hard enough to matter.
Elena released.
THRUM.
The target shook.
The arrow passed through it.
Then buried itself in the wooden post behind.
Silence.
The shopkeeper looked at the post.
Elena looked at the post.
Ciel looked at Elena.
Slowly, Elena smiled.
“That was an ordinary arrow.” “Yes.” “No artifact.” “No.” “No Earth Qi.” “No.” Elena stared at the bow in her hand.
Then at the broken target.
“I’ve been living incorrectly.” The shopkeeper shouted from behind them: “You damage another post, you buy the post!” Elena immediately lowered the bow.
Ciel laughed.
That afternoon, the new bow rested beside Elena in Voss Appraisals.
Three Green Feather Pigeon cores rested on Mara’s worktable.
One might be suitable.
Might.
A large sack of feathers sat near Ciel.
Several claws lay beside it.
Elena was alive.
Better armed.
Poorer again.
But stronger in a way that mattered.
Ciel picked up one green feather.
Injected the smallest thread of Qi.
The feather trembled.
A faint breeze touched her face.
She looked at Elena’s bandaged shoulder.
Then at the curved claw in her other hand.
A claw for when someone came too close.
Feathers for making them farther away.
Ciel’s eyes narrowed.
Mara saw the expression.
“No.” Ciel looked up.
“I haven’t said anything.” “You don’t need to.” Elena leaned over.
“What is she doing?” “Inventing expenses.” Ciel looked back at the feather.
Then the claw.
She imagined several of them arranged together.
Something that could close.
Something that could open.
Something elegant enough that a young woman might actually want to carry it.
Something that did not ask its owner to be stronger than the person approaching.
Not a sword.
Not quite.
Ciel moved the feather through the air.
The Wind Qi inside it stirred.
Just a little.
But enough.
“What if…” Mara closed her eyes.
Elena smiled.
And on the counter between them, a pile of leftover pigeon parts quietly became the beginning of Voss Appraisals’ next problem.