The Natural Order of Things

The moment Ferre was out of the hotel, he felt better, less tired and much less stifled. He hated staying indoors, especially when the weather was nice; he planned no destination in particular, but made certain to stay close.

Rallar was not much like Aurandren. It was primarily squat concrete buildings and wide roads, everything sun-paled and age-worn. It felt strange, Ferre thought, to have the sky so open above him after so many months walled in by towers and sea spray.

The air was warmer farther from the marina. Ferre shed his coat and his anxiety and tried to focus on nothing. He was less conspicuous in a port city than a xenophobic island metropolis; people might glance twice in his direction but none would challenge him, and he didn’t fear much of anything in a place with nowhere for danger to hide. Slinging his coat over his shoulder, he continued along, the rhythmic tapping of shoe-cane-shoe almost calming.

He looked around. Just left of him lay the marketplace, a bright stain on a silver-grey backdrop. Beyond that lay the marina, its far side lost in ocean mist. Ferre eyeballed the lines of shops, then sighed inwardly and started down the road to the market. May as well do it while I’m here, he thought.

Glad to be free of his brother and the kid merchant, he pushed open the door to the tannery and poked his head in. The smell of leather hit him like a storm wall.

It seemed empty. “Hello?”

“Just a moment,” shouted a voice, location indiscernible.

Ferre stepped inside and let the door swing shut. Seconds later, another door popped open on the other side of the tannery. “Sorry about that,” the tanner said, brushing wrinkles out of his shirt. “I — Oh! It’s you. I didn’t think you were coming back until tomorrow.”

“As far as anyone knows, I’m out for a walk,” Ferre replied. “I figured it’d be better to get it all done as soon as possible so I can leave as soon as possible.”

“Why such a hurry?” Starling asked, picking his way across the sea of crates and boxes on the floor. “Rallar’s lovely this time of year.” He reached a patch of clear ground and gestured for Ferre to follow.

Ferre did, cautiously. “I’ve got somewhere very important to be, and it’s quite far from here,” he said, with a seat on the wooden bench. “I could have been there ages ago if it weren’t for my leg and my tendency to get into trouble at the least convenient times.”

The tanner helped detach the wooden prosthetic, then got to measuring. “Well,” he said, reaching for his notepad, “I’ve heard the stories. Would you tell me what’s really going on?”

“No,” said Ferre. “I can’t.” I can’t tell anyone, as much as I’d like someone else to know.

“At the very least, tell something. Your stories are almost more renowned than you are.”

Ferre leaned back against the table, deliberately locking his gaze elsewhere. “I can tell you about the end of the world,” he suggested, forcing his tone to remain conversational. “For starters, it’ll be here on my birthday.”

And he began. He spoke first of the laws of energy and matter, then the cycle of time, then the memory of everything. He spoke of water, rising to the brim of a cup, and of a hole that must be made to let the water drain. He spoke of fires, of things disintegrating in the night, of stars that became too powerful and ultimately consumed themselves. He spoke of fear.

When he could think of nothing else to say, he stopped, breathing deeply. “I… gods, I’m sorry about that,” he said, voice hoarse. “I got a bit carried away.”

Starling had paused mid-scribble, pencil hovering a few centimetres above the paper. The look on his face was something like awe.

Ferre squinted. “What?”

“None of it was exaggeration,” the tanner said. “Not one word.” He set his pencil down and ran a hand through his hair, looking incredulous. “That was damn near spiritual enlightenment, storyteller.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Ferre replied, “considering it’s my profession.” Nevertheless, he was flattered.

Starling let out a puff of air and picked up the measuring tape again. “I can’t make myself charge you for any of this now. Not after that.”

“Oh, I’ll pay anyways. I’m no freeloader.”

“No. You didn’t ask anything for the story.” He made a few last notes and unwound the tape from Ferre’s leg, then froze, staring at his hands. “Are you… glowing?”

“Gods no,” Ferre said. “It’s waste energy from Stabilising. Which I don’t actually need to be doing.” He let the Enhancement subside, feeling a bit dizzy. “It’s a bit of an unfortunate side effect, all things considered. Makes me stand out even more.”

“And here I was thinking all of the things people said were only rumours.” Starling shook his head, then stood up, extending a hand. “It’s been an honour, sir. Come back again before you’re gone forever.”



Ferre hadn’t realised how much time had passed; already the sun was slightly past its zenith as he approached the hotel building, hair stuck to his face from the heat. Hurriedly he made his way up to the room he’d rented, keying the door open silently.

From the bed, Finch snapped their head up in surprise. Talle glared coldly from the armchair.

“Why such a chilly welcome?” Ferre said, shutting the door.

Talle said nothing. Finch, however, looked right at Ferre and broke into a grin. “I know where you’ve been!”

“I told you,” said Ferre, “I went for a walk. It’s lovely outside, perhaps you two should get out and do something instead of staying in here moping all day.”

“Don’t gimme that shit.” Finch’s eyes were bright. “You’re so transparent, Lightbringer fella. Besides, your coat’s buttoned wrong and only one of your pants legs is tucked in.”

Ferre looked down, surprised to see that Finch was in fact not wrong. Hurriedly, he unbuttoned the coat and tossed it on the near bed, pressing the wrinkles out of his tunic with a gloved hand. “I’m not a particularly orderly man, Finch,” he said quickly. “I reckon I’ve had my coat buttoned wrong the whole day.”

“Whatever you say.” Finch looked very smug.

Ferre sighed. “Fine,” he said in exasperation, sitting on the other bed and leaning back against its plush comforter. “I did go back to the tannery. I want to get my harnesses as soon as possible so we can move on, ace?”

“Listen, Lightbringer, I don’t care if you’re in love with the guy, I just like teasin’,” said Finch.

“I am not in love with him!” Ferre propped himself up on his elbows and glared.

“You had better not be,” Talle spoke up from the chair. “It’d be just another distraction. It didn’t end well for either of you last time, Ferre.”

Anger flared in Ferre’s chest. “Don’t you rotting bring that up,” he snapped. “That was your fault. You killed her. I’ve never been strong enough to stop you.”

Talle’s eyes were hardened pewter. “I didn’t attack her. I attacked you. You let her die.”

That was all Ferre could take. With a burst of searing rage he leapt from the bed and lunged at Talle, barely seeing Finch’s startled form leap out of the way.

Talle had expected it, of course. Ferre was hit hard in the chest by a powerful force of motion; gasping, he slammed into the opposite wall with a harsh cracking of plaster. His head spun.

“Don’t do this, Ferre.” Talle’s tone was neutral.

Ferre’s anger was stronger than the sharp pains in his spine. He sprang forward, Slashing madly at the air; he wasn’t entirely sure which way was up, but he hoped Talle would be somewhere within reach.

He only hit the wall again, Talle’s Propulsion far more powerful than necessary for someone as light as Ferre. Some foggy part of his mind had thankfully thought to Reinforce him; everything hurt, but nothing seemed too badly damaged. Faintly, he heard Finch shouting, but the words didn’t reach him.

Ferre struggled to rise, but his limbs refused to move; he lay on the carpet trying to regain control of his breathing, the pains in his back and side throbbing. Everything was unfocused.

“You should know better than that,” Talle’s voice said, distant. “You don’t want to fight me.”

Oh, but do I, Ferre thought hazily.

“Get up. You’re not hurt, only winded. You’ve taken worse than that.” Ferre had never heard the soft syllables of spoken Pendrin sound so harsh in his life. Slowly he pushed himself up, arms trembling with effort. Talle brushed past him; vaguely, he heard the door open and then slam shut, walls rattling.

Ignoring Finch’s increasingly panicked shouts, Ferre slid back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to regain a sense of normality.