Lucien woke up in an unfamiliar room that looked like a sewer and smelled of blood. He tried to sit up but his abdomen was hurting too much, he took a look at his body and saw more bandages than skin. Then he remembered the Black Hand descending upon him… How he managed to cast his chameleon cloak he honestly could not recall. He moved towards the corner with a sliding wall and squeezed through the opening quickly, shutting it behind him. The assassins realised that he had escaped and started searching. A single life detection spell would give away his location, what was he thinking… but he had to try. He heard Arquen cursing the rats in the basement… their shapes must have masked his. He was safe until they found the door, he wasn’t sure whether they knew of that hiding space, not everyone did. Then suddenly the fighting resumed, they thought they found him… how odd… He watched the massacre, heard their voices, then his wounds took thir toll and he passed out, right there in a pool of his own blood.

Lena’s sleepy head was looking at Lucien from below.

“You are awake! Good,” she said, getting up and shaking off the sleep. “Don’t move, you’ll make the wounds reopen.” She touched his forehead checking for fever, then brought a cup to his lips. “Drink this. You lost a lot of blood, Speaker.”

She helped him sit up and he drank that bitter potion.

“Where are we?” He looked around, not sure what to make of his surroundings. “How..?”

“Shhhh, don’t strain yourself,” Lena put away the cup. “You are not out of danger yet. We’ll have to stay here for a while longer. This place is safe. You should rest.”

The drink must have sedated him because he indeed felt tired and sleepy, and he gave in to that, putting off questions until later. Once he was asleep, Lena slipped out of the room.

…

“You are looking better, Sister,” Sergius greeted her when she entered the common room of the coven. “Anything you need?” He squinted with suspicion.

“I came to trade,” Lena smiled, opening her purse. “Food and drink for my thrall, you know we’ve got to feed them. Some stew, bread and wine, that sort of thing.”

A sigh of relief was heard around the room and soon Lena was carrying a heavy basket with provisions, her purse significantly lighter. “Don’t they make a pretty penny on that too,” she scoffed. “But no matter.” Both she and Lucien had to eat.

Returning to the Blood Room, she found Lucien waking up and trying to sit up again, this time with more success – regeneration was working, but he had a long way to go still. She busied herself with the provisions and was glad that Lucien didn’t ask questions until after they ate.

“I don’t remember what happened,” he said after Lena made him drink another cup of her bitter brew. “The Black Hand seemed to attack someone else… they left me alone… then I suppose I blacked out. What did you do?” He wrinkled his forehead trying to recall those events.

“I gave them someone to fight,” Lena smiled. “You slipped away but it was only a matter of time before they’d locate you. I gave them another Lucien Lachance…” She paused and grinned. “Did you notice how they like slicing up the face? Thank goodness for that.”

“Who was he?” Lucien looked at her with admiration. “That was some trick!”

“Just one of the assassins that follow me around,” she shrugged. “Dressed in a plain black robe, pushed into the room at an opportune moment… They thought you had tried to escape, they thought they got you…”

“And then of course his corpse was sliced up beyond recognition,” Lucien grinned. “Clever.” He took another sip of his wine trying to wash away the bitter taste of the medicine. “You were successful then?”

“It’s Mathieu Bellamont,” Lena looked up. “A distant family of my mother’s… it seems all Bretons are related to one another somehow…”

“But it has nothing to do with your mother!” Lucien seemed sure of that. “Family links don’t mean much…”

“No, but what will the Listener think of that?” Lena looked dubious. “There may be letters…” She blushed and stopped talking.

“He tried to use it against you, is that it?” Lucien squinted then shook his head. What would the Listener make of that, indeed? The intrigue continued. “I have to go to Bravil and see to it,” he said decisively and moved to stand up, only realising that he would not be going anywhere any time soon. “Damn it,” he swore.

“We’ll need to stay here for a bit longer,” Lena said in a small voice. “Your wounds were too deep.”

“Where are we?” Lucien changed the topic.

“Forgive me, it is the only place that was near… and that I thought would be safe… Fort Farragut was too far, you were bleeding…” Lena looked embarrassed. “We are still in Bruma.”

“And this is a torture chamber of some sort,” Lucien looked around. “A draining table with chains… an alchemy station… I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing,” he smirked looking at her with interest.

“I am not, Speaker!” She exclaimed hotly. “This is a Blood Room, yes, they drain bodies of blood here… But I am not a member of this coven… I just… had a favour to call in…” She straightened up, deciding to own it. “I am a vampire. We do not see with necromancers eye to eye, but these ones have been trading in blood… We’ve reached an understanding. Which they recently broke. I cleaned up their zombies so that I could use this room in exchange for not informing the others of the breach of agreement… It’s safer here than with the vampires, I promise.”

Lucien was getting a glimpse into the world he never crossed before. Of course he knew about vampires and necromancers taking over the sewers in every town, he knew of their feud and the fighting among them, but it never concerned him and he never wondered where Borba sourced the blood for Vicente… A Blood Room… There must have been many of those around, no doubt. The table with grooves, the chains, the alchemy station… it all made sense.

“Forgive me, I never stopped to think what it actually meant to be a vampire…” He shook his head. “You can’t just go to an inn…” He fell silent, thinking of many other things that a vampire would not be able to do, in particular when carrying a bleeding unconscious victim such as himself the day before.

“I manage, most of the time…” Lena smiled. “I didn’t choose it… and I don’t know if there is even a cure,” she added wistfully. “It’s the heartbeat that I miss the most. Our hearts don’t beat.”

She got up and busied herself with some dishes and potion bottles, and Lucien thought of those times when she did in fact have a heartbeat. He realised what it meant, then denied it – it wasn’t the time, or so he told himself.

…

“Are you still facing the wraith in your sleep?” Lucien asked Lena the following day. He was recovering and was able to sit up unaided. “I haven’t had mine since the fight.”

“No, it’s been quiet,” Lena looked up, suddenly noticing it too. “Do you think it’s been called off?” She smiled with hope.

“For now, at least,” Lucien nodded. “It isn’t complete until the Night Mother says so. I should return to Bravil.” But he couldn’t stand yet, and it took several more days until he was fit enough to travel. Then they rode to Bravil together and weren’t ambushed, not even once. It did bode well. In Bravil Lena went to her house and Lucien went to see the Listener privately at his home.

…

“I thought you were dead!” Ungolim exclaimed in disbelief when Lucien lowered his hood. “Arquen insisted she killed you herself!”

“Arquen gets carried away sometimes,” Lucien grinned. “They did try… they almost killed me… but someone was watching over me at the time.”

Ungolim nodded. “The same someone who put a report on my desk. I saw it – what madness! And to think that it went on for years and we never suspected a thing!”

“What happens now?”

“I informed the Night Mother of course, your exile has been lifted, I trust you noticed?” Ungolim looked up and Lucien nodded. “But the others have not been told… Aquen still thinks she killed the traitor and Bellamont… well, he must think he pulled it off! He’s been hanging around Bravil and I’ve been watching my back day in, day out,” he sighed. “The Night Mother wanted to be informed if you returned… she knew it somehow… so I shall inform her now. Stay close. There will be a summon soon, I am certain.”

The summon came the following day, each member of the Black Hand receiving a note to come to the crypt. Lucien was watching the statue of the Lucky Lady, watching people carefully lift a well concealed trapdoor and disappear through it. When everyone seemed to have arrived, he went in himself.

…

“The traitor is slain, Night Mother!” Arquen’s voice echoed in the crypt. “Lachance is no more! Our Brotherhood can breathe easy again!”

“And you are certain you got the right person?” The Night Mother’s hollow voice sounded quizzical. “What proof have you got?”

“What proof..?” Arquen was taken aback. “Why, the same proof that we used to impose Purification… what more proof do we need?”

“And has his Sanctuary been Purified?” The Night Mother continued her questions.

“Not as yet…” Arquen sounded embarrassed. “But it won’t be long now! Without Lachance, they will surely fall!”

“They might have done, true,” Lucien stepped out of the darkness. “You were relentless.”

Arquen froze, then went for her sword, but Bellamont was already lunging at Lucien, as were two other people. There was a flash of black light and they collapsed to the ground.

“Lachance is not the traitor,” the Night Mother spoke. “I have seen the real proof. The traitor had been allowed to erode us from within for too long! This is the end, Bellamont!” A lightning bolt shot at him and he was dead. “As for you,” the Night Mother turned to Arquen, her skeletal finger pointing at Arquen’s chest, “your zealotry did as much damage as his treason! You closed you mind, you ignored the signs… You have no place among us!”

Arquen tried to plead, but it was in vain. She too got the lightning bolt and lay dead, she and those other members who chose to follow her blindly, not bothering with proof.

“Ungolim, you remain the Listener,” the Night Mother’s voice was calm. “You always objected… I remember. The Purification order is hereby rescinded! Whoever is still alive in the Sanctuary is reinstated in their rank, with all the rights restored. Your exile had been lifted already,” she turned to Lucien. “I trust you had been informed… But what of your Silencer? Why is she not here?”

“She… I haven’t told her yet,” Lucien said softly. “She thinks she is still but an Assassin.”

“Well, it is your business,” the Night Mother closed the topic. “She is absolved of everything as well. I leave the rest to you, my children.” She looked around the room and everyone felt her touch. After that, the apparition vanished.

They stood in the crypt a little longer, stunned. Only Ungolim and Lucien knew what to expect, the others were shocked by everything they’d seen. There would have to be changes, they would need to understand how such a thing could have happened… they were all blinded by clever lies, by reputation and standing… what lessons should they learn from that? Time would tell, but for now life returned to normal.

…

“It’s done,” Lucien stood in Lena’s house. “The Night Mother has spoken. The real traitor is dead, and the zealots with him. The Purification, the exile, the assassins… all is rescinded. And you…” He took a step forward, and felt Lena’s embrace around him, her tears running down his cheek.

“It’s over then,” she breathed.

“It’s over.” He felt a jolt in her chest, then another, she hugged him tighter and her heart started to beat. He could no longer deny to himself what that meant.

…

“Come back to Cheydinhal when you are ready,” Lucien finally decided to pull a blanket over them as Lena started cooling off. “I’ll wait for you there. We’ll all wait for you.”

She nodded and kissed him again, then cradled in his embrace falling asleep and not expecting to fight a wraith for a change.