Sobbing in the darkness, softly and silently, Adelina the Sorrowful Blade knew the truth beyond the shadow of doubt.  He had traded to Skorm for youth, she knew it.  He looked different, spoke differently, and carried himself with a sleek grace that he had not possessed in his twilight years but the way he touched her, the way he used her, told her everything.  That had not changed, not one bit.  When she had closed her eyes, it had been Oakvale all over again and she could see Maze, hear him in the grunts and groans.

She felt dirty, filthy, but she knew what she had to do.

She rose from the bed and winced as she rose to her feet.  He had not been gentle, Storm-Who-Was-Maze, and her breath hissed between her teeth as she bent over to retrieve her pants and her boots.  He stirred on the bed and she felt his eyes raking over her in the dark, her skin made luminous by the light of the moon, shining through the open shutters.

“Leaving so soon,” he asked sleepily.

“I have to return to-”

“Sparrowhawke?”  He chuckled in the dark.  “Why don’t you stay?  Dawn is many hours away.”

She stepped into her pants and pulled them up, dragging the leather up over her thighs and hips.  “I have to go.”

He reached for her and brushed his fingertips against the small of her back and then over the leather that covered her bum.  “Stay.”

She pulled her shirt over her head, hiding her breasts from his eyes.  She left it unlaced though, revealing her cleavage.  “I don’t want to be here when it happens.”

The moonlight cast his features in stark relief, showing her the suspicion and curiosity.  “When what happens?”

The door burst open, kicked in, and two figures entered the chamber as he scrambled from the bed.  Adelina planted a kick in his chest, knocking him back onto the bed.  Sparrowhawke pulled the mask down, revealing the snarl and bared teeth.

“When we put you in the dead book for , Maze,” Sparrowhawke growled.

“What?!”  He rolled off the other side of the bed, coming up with open hands.  “I’m not-”

Whisper stepped out of the shadows behind him and drove her spear into him from behind, the point of the blade erupting from his chest with a spray of blood.  Adelina went for her sword.  Sparrowhawke and Blade advanced, swords raised for killing blows.  But he was vanishing in rings of red light, teleporting away.  The hatred and fire in his pale blue eyes told her that she was right.  He was Maze.

And they had failed to kill him.

Sparrowhawke came to her side and she leaned into him gratefully as he draped his arm over her.  There were no words between them; there was no need for words.  She stared at the blood on the bed and hoped that the wound was mortal, that he was bleeding out even now but she knew that it was a futile hope.  Maze had been powerful in his old age; with his youth restored, he would be unstoppable.

“This isn’t over yet,” she said softly.

Blade sheathed his swords.  “Explanations will have to be made.”

“I’ll speak to the Guild Master,” Adelina promised.  “I’ll tell him everything.”

“He may not believe you,” Whisper warned.

“He may expel you from the Guild,” Sparrowhawke breathed.  “He may decide to expel all of us.”

Blade snorted and scoffed.  “Without us, is there a Guild?”

Adelina wished she had Blade’s confidence but, confident or not, he had a point.  Dawn was hours away but it felt like time was running out.

Storm fell to his knees in the long grass of the Barrow Fields.

Scrambling up to his feet and then dropping back to his knees, he choked on the blood filling his lungs.  Drawing heavily on his magic, he healed himself.  Gagging, he vomited blood and choked, convulsing as he expelled the blood from his lungs.  Crawling through the slick grass, he dragged himself to the edge of the river and dunked his head into the icy water, screaming into the river.

He lunged to his feet, the tendons standing out in his neck and his jaw locked as he roared into the night.  In the nearby trader’s camp, he heard the sudden commotion as the traders scrambled out of their tents, the rasp of steel as the guards drew their swords and came to investigate.  He stayed on his knees, gagging and vomiting blood.  He held up a hand, fingers splayed and halted the guards as he choked and coughed.

Recognizing him as a Guildsman and seeing that he was unarmed (though with his magic he was quite deadly), the guards sheathed their swords.  The Guard Captain ignored his upheld hand and approached.

“Are you well, Master Guildsman,” the Captain asked.

“No,” he gagged, “but I’ll live.”

He rose to his feet, lurching upright.  He wiped the blood off of his chest and revealed the smooth flesh beneath.  His wound was healed and he had cleared his lungs of blood.  His hand went instinctively to his side but he was completely unarmed.  He had left his weapons behind when he teleported away from the Guild.  He touched his Seal but it was inert, drained of magic.

They must have gone to the Guild Master with their tale.

He growled as the wind and the water running down his chest and stomach reminded him that he had been roused from bed and was utterly naked.  He looked at the traders lingering behind the guards.  Their pavilions were closed and would not open til morning and, judging by the position of the moon, it was midnight, the Witching Hour.  His gold had been left behind as well.  He had no gold and nothing to trade.  Too many guards were around for him to risk battle completely naked and with his magic alone.  He removed his Seal and held it out by the chain.

“I need clothes and a sword,” he said, voice flat and cold.  “Which of you is open right now?”

Adelina the Sorrowful Blade silently left the Guild Master’s office.

Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes were red-rimmed and burned.  Her nose was red as well and, as the door closed behind her, the hard words that the Guild Master had leveled against her echoed in her head.  The accusations that her machinations had endangered the Guild struck far too true for her to deny and it hurt her heart to have his anger centered squarely on her.  She sniffled and rubbed her tears away with the back of her fist as she descended the stairs.

Hard words had been uttered against her companions as well, Whisper and Blade, Sparrowhawke and Sabre, but the blame had been laid on her shoulders and hers alone.  He had castigated her as the ring leader, as the seductress that had set Guildsman against Guildsman.  The death of Bloodraven laid at her feet at last, the sheer incredulity on the Guild Master's face, the way he struggled to find the words to express his outrage.

It burned her as she walked slowly down the stairs.

Two Guild Apprentices were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, one of them holding her bag and the other holding her weapons.  She buckled on her weapon belt and then hoisted her bag onto her shoulders.  As she walked past the Map Table, she looked back once, gazing up the curved stairs.  The Guild Master stood at the top, looking down at her.

"I will contact you when you may return," he said gravely.

"No..."

She took off her Guild Seal and held it by the chain.

"You won't."

She tossed it onto the Map Table and strode out of the hall, ignoring his call for her to wait.  She squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight and kept walking, looking forward to the Crossroads and not turning back nor slowing her pace as she heard the Guild Master calling for her from the gates of the castle.  Tears flowed freely down her cheeks but she did not look back.

Sabre braced his hands on the rail and leaned forward, watching the lonely figure walk through the North Quarter of Bowerstone.

What's this?

Adelina the Sorrowful Blade walked with her head down, hair hiding her face.  Her steps were slow and measured and she was bent under the weight of a large bag.  One foot in front of the other, as if she did not have the strength to continue on but kept going through sheer will and desire.  He stayed where he was, letting her come to him.  When she reached the base of the steps, she stopped and looked up at him.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks blotched, her nose red but her face was defiant, daring him to mock her tears.  He did not.  He straightened and walked down the stairs, moving around her and taking her pack from her shoulders.

"He exiled you?"

She nodded and rubbed her fist across her eyes and nose.  "He did.  I deserved it."

He shouldered her pack.  "No, you didn't."

He walked up the stairs and she followed him, using the rail to keep her mostly upright.  "This is all my fault."

"Maze is to blame," he said.  "Maze and the Bloodraven and Jack of Blades."

"Thank you," she said softly.  "For everything..."

"You don't have to thank me."  He led her inside and gave her pack to a servant.  "Take her to a room and get her settled."

He looked at 'lina.

"Your mother is upstairs.  I'll let her know you've arrived."

Four golden Guild Seals lay on the Map Table.  Blade looked down at them and touched them one by one.

The Sorrowful Blade.  Whisper.  Sparrowhawke.  Sabre.

Adelina the Sorrowful Blade had cast her Seal onto the Map Table when the Guild Master turned her out of the castle.  Whisper and Sparrowhawke had cast their Seals onto the table when the learned of her exile from the Guild.  Sabre's Seal had been delivered by a servant.  The four of them, inseperable since childhood, had departed the Guild together.  He felt the weight of heavy gazes upon him and raised his eyes from the table, still touching Sabre's Seal.  At the top of the stairs, the Guild Master watched him, face seemingly carved from granite, lined and troubled.

"Will you be joining them," the Guild Master asked.

"Should I remain," Blade countered.

"The Guild needs you."  Point.

Blade shrugged.  "The Guild needed the Sorrowful Blade, Whisper, Sparrowhawke, and Sabre."  Counterpoint.

"You owe them nothing."  Point.

Blade looked back down at the Seals.  "They're my friends."  Counterpoint.

"You sound as if you have made your decision," the Guild Master said gravely.

"I've considered my decision."

One bushy white eyebrow rose, the Guild Master's voice lowered.  "Did they ask you to leave?"

"They asked me to visit now and again."

It seemed they had sparred to the Guild Master's satisfaction; he came down the stairs with calculated ease and grace, still a warrior, still dangerous.  "What have you decided?"