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The waves slapped against Armida's boat as it slipped through the swamp water; where the trip to Corvilla had been numb and strange, this one was filled with laughter. The strangeness was still there, as was the anxiety, but now the path ahead was set and certain. The bird from Amityville had come a day ago, promising a place in the first year for one L.C. Malodore, plague doctor.

Malodore itself was seated in the front of Armida's boat, Parassiti held in the sling against its side; its arm and shoulder had been pronounced healed a week ago, but the sling itself was an easy enough way to carry the tiny scrags close at hand. She was still fearful and sullen, but Malodore hoped her mood would lighten once they reached their new home. "Everything will be well," it whispered to her, running one claw down her back before turning its head to look at Armida once more. "How far is it to the swamp's edge?"

"A bit longer yet, impatient child," Armida said; the older plague doctor was in high spirits. "I've more errands to be about today, but you will be first, never fear. I know the traders well; they will see you safe to Amityville. Learn all you can on the journey, and every day after."

"I will," Malodore promised, nodding firmly. The bundles containing its possessions were pressed tightly against its back; the boat was big enough for it and Armida and its things, just barely. "I promise I'll do my very best, Zia Armida."

"Good, good... very good." And then the boat slowed to a stop in the middle of the channel; Armida planted her pole in the swamp bottom and sat down in the back of the boat, making the boat sway from side to side. Parassiti let out an irritated squeak. "There, there, little ratling. I mean you no harm," Armida said. "Turn to me, child."

It was awkward, but Malodore obeyed, even though Parassiti nipped at its side in vengeance. "What is it?" it asked once it had turned to face Armida.

"I have a gift for you. Something I have held close for many years - but now is the time to let it go." She reached into one sleeve and pulled out a small leather sack, beautifully made, and heavy with whatever it contained. "Open it, but be careful. If you drop it, I'll not be going after it again."

Malodore accepted the sack, which was surprisingly heavy for its size, and carefully opened it. Something silvery and bright slid out into its hands, its surface warm to the touch, barely pliant, and thick with the feel of FEAR. "Zia... Zia Armida, this is bloodmetal." It looked up at her, eyes wide. "You cannot mean to give this to me."

"I remembered something from long ago, in our tower," Armida said, as if Malodore hadn't said anything. "You told me of your plans to grow, to become an elder. You wished to gain power and in doing so buy freedom for yourself, and change the Casa from within... and I told you you were a fool." She shook her head. "My dear, wicked child, do you know why I told you such a thing?"

"Because you were right?"

"Hah. Yes, that, but there is more." Armida sighed beneath her mask. "A story for you, then: Once, many years before you came into this world, there was a small band of plague doctors who yearned for change in the Casa. They were very brave, and very careful, and also very determined. They even approached an elder whom they thought might be sympathetic to their views, despite the great personal risk in doing so... and that elder considered their views, and was changed by them."

Malodore tilted its head to one side. "Someone else tried...?"

"They did. The elder spoke most eloquently before the council, and was rebuffed; despite this, the group continued, united in purpose, convinced that if only they performed the right actions or spoke the right words, they would succeed in their goals. They had a touching faith, but all it bought them was the shattering of their masks against stone and the short, sharp flight into the swamp. A dozen in all, cast out in one day. And then there was the elder."

"The elder," Malodore repeated. Its claws wrapped around the bloodmetal; it knew where this was going. "What was... what was she like?"

"Hah." Armida inclined her head towards Malodore. "She was bold and foolish and refused to back down, and they tore her wings out of her back before they threw her in with the rest, those defiled wings following her into the muck. She would have died from those injuries had the others not saved her, as they saved each other in turn. Even blinded, they were united in purpose; they came to the swamp's heart, and built a village there... and one day, many years later, the one who had once been an elder returned, and pulled up the remains of her wings. She kept them even as they lost shape, as the base metal feathers fell away and the bloodmetal returned to its natural form, unwilling to reforge them, unwilling to let them go..."

"You. You were an elder... and these were your wings." Malodore stared at the bloodmetal in its hands. "Zia Armida, I couldn't possibly..."

"I can never wear them again, child; even if I could, neither I nor any in Corvilla would. Our crows fly and take us with them. That is enough for us... but it will never be enough for you. You have the wind in your bones, that hunger for knowledge and freedom. And the bloodmetal alone is not wings." A wicked amusement crept into her voice. "Durante held the secrets so close that even I never learned the method of their manufacture. I can give you this, but you must be clever and quick and ever so wicked... and then, perhaps, you will steal the most precious gift of the Casa Cirurgien right out of their rotting and dying claws. And when you do, I pray you will return to this swamp and show me."

Malodore looked up at her, eyes shining with tears. "I will, Zia Armida... no, Elder Armida. You are more worthy of that title than anyone I have ever known. They were fools to take it from you."

"Hah. I am Armida alone, wicked child. Remember that." She gently took the bloodmetal back, folded it away in the bag, and tucked it in with the rest of Malodore's things. "Feed it with lesser metals and with your own FEAR, and it will know you and be ready to become part of you. But do not use it right away - I am sending you to learn, not to obsess over the manufacture of wings. The bloodmetal will keep. "

"Yes, Zia Armida."

Her hands reached out and covered its own. "I will miss you. Remember us... and forget them."

"I will," Malodore said, beak open in such a wide smile that it actually hurt.


..................


The traders were a clan of centaurs, their sides decked with bells and tassels; man-shaped constructs pulled their wagons, a merry yet somehow uncomfortable joke. Their leader, a ruddy-furred stallion, took Armida's silver seeds and directed Malodore to a smaller wagon, clapping it jovially on the back and bending one of its backblades by mistake. "Never seen one of you outta that heap with your face still on!"

"Perhaps you will see more of them in the future," Armida told him solemnly.

"Hrm, might be. They're buzzing like flies today." The centaur jerked one hand in what Malodore assumed was the direction of the Casa Cirurgien, though the Casa itself couldn't be seen through the mist over the swamp. "An ill omen for someone, like as not."

"Oh, I doubt that," Armida laughed. She turned her focus to Malodore. "Now, then, wicked child. Be brave, and be wise, and-" The sudden, distant tolling of a bell interrupted her final word, and she turned towards the sound. Both Ligeia and Odilia spread their wings wide and cawed.

"That's... that's the Judgement Bell," Malodore said, startled. It took a step back.

"I know. Oh, I know." There was a fierce joy in Armida's crow-voice. "I am sorry, dear child, but my second errand awaits. My Celeste... she is coming home."

Malodore's eyes widened for a moment; then, its beak opened in a smile. "Tell her... tell her thank you. And welcome home."

"I will." Armida nodded at it, then at the centaur. "Travel safe on the long road."

"The road be ever steady beneath your hooves," the centaur responded, grinning broadly. "Come on, plague doctor. We've a schedule to keep."

Malodore bowed, then turned to quickly climb into the back of the wagon. When it looked back, Armida was already in the boat again, the small vessel moving rapidly back into the swamp. It sat down, staring back at her shrinking form as the centaurs called out to each other, tensing as the wagon lurched forward-

"Malodore-child!"

It very nearly fell out of the wagon again.

"I nearly forgot, fool that I am!" Ligeia swooped past the wagon, speaking in Armida's voice. "Your little kappa friend lives in the Kyurigawa River! Write to her! Tell her you're safe!"

Malodore's beak opened in a smile. "Thank you, Zia Armida! Thank you!"

"Fare well," the crow cried, then swooped upwards and was lost in the brilliant starry sky.

Surfacing...


When Malodore opened its eyes, it had to pause for a moment, allowing itself to see the walls of its room, to see Riley curled around it - to see now, not then. A deep weariness filled it, and it could feel a headache lurking on the edges of its perception... and yet there was a strange joy rising in it, an certainty. It had known this, it realized. It had always known... yet it had asked anyway.

"Non credo... ah..." It opened its beak in a smile. "Rather, I do not think I need you to tell me the answer, mia cara," it said, quietly, brushing the tip of its beak against her cheek. "I think I already know."

"Grazie mille," it whispered, letting its head fall against her shoulder, beak opening slightly in a weary smile. "Insieme, siamo in grado di sfidare il mondo - e ottenere la vittoria."

At last, a real peace settled into its mind, soothing and gentle; there was a bit of excitement, too, an eagerness to begin work and study... but it was exhausted from what it had done, what it had shown. Malodore closed its eyes, curling gratefully against her.

Insieme, possiamo dominare il mondo.