I left that shadowed part of the woods and the wicked being who lurked in it. I tried to get used to the strange sensation of the new cloak. It kept moving, shifting against my armor and skin as though trying to find a comfortable arrangement.

I propped my axe on my shoulder as I went. With its haft lengthened since I'd pulled it from the Executioner's Tree, I couldn't comfortably hook it on my back or belt anymore. I'd take the time to shave it down at some point, though something made me think it would grow faster than before. Those idle musings kept me company until I reached the edge of the woods.

I realized belatedly that I was going back to the manor, not away as I'd started doing before. It sat there on the hill, bathed in cool autumn daylight. It looked calm and peaceful, and subtly sad.

I'd only been there a brief time. This was all done, and I had no reason to linger in these people's lives. In fact, it wouldn't be good for anybody if I did.

You should do something about Vanya. Even if the maidservant was innocent, a dangerous shadow clung to her. Further, time spent stuck in her own corpse would change her over time. Dangerous for a little girl to be near that. And yet…

Was it my right to try and keep the woman from her daughter? I was in no position to play at being righteous, and had no desire to create more orphans.

They were all haunted enough, and I had long roads ahead. I turned back toward the woods.

"Truly? You didn't even intend to say goodbye?"

I froze, then sighed. "I didn't sense you. Nath teach you that trick?"

Emma stepped out of a particularly dark shadow, which lightened as she emerged from it into a normal bit of shade. The glamour she'd drawn over herself faded. "Qoth actually, among a few other things. So that's it, then? You're just going to go like a passing wind?"

I shrugged. "It's what I usually do. But you're here now, milady, so I'll humor you."

I turned to face her and dipped into my most knightly bow. "Goodbye."

Emma glared at me a long moment, then made a tsking sound. "Fine then. Go."

She waved a hand in aristocratic dismissal. Abandoned her name and titles she might have, but she'd lost none of the habits as of yet.

I nodded, but paused before turning away again. Something Nath had said lingered in my thoughts. "What do you plan to do?" I asked.

"What do you care?" Emma asked. She was angry. "But if you must know, I've been thinking I might start a bandit gang. Or perhaps become a perfumer. One of the deadly ones. The whole world is open to me now. I could become anything I want."

She stepped away from the tree, almost skipping as she threw her hands out to encompass the whole landscape. I could see the rolling fields of apple orchards and hamlets just past the trees.

Emma turned and grinned at me. "Maybe a woodland witch, even? I think I'd enjoy that." Her smile turned grim. "I could lure in children and cook them in my stew, curse villages."

"Is that really what you want?" I asked, sensing some trace of bitterness in her voice. "To be a villain?"

Emma's face fell into neutrality and she shrugged. "What do you care? This was all just a labor to you, anyway. You've done your quest, no need to fret over it anymore. We're done. This is goodbye, as you said."

"Is that what you think?" I asked softly. "That I don't care, after all that?"

"I don't understand why you would care." Emma's voice turned exasperated. "We've known one another a bare couple weeks."

Had it really only been that long? I rubbed at my chin, recalling the past days. Everything had moved by in a rush, one problem after another. Strekke, Nath's request, then my return to the Fane, Maxim, the Briar Brother, our journey on the Night Coach, and all the madness after.

A lot had happened in a short time.

"They say grand quests have a habit of forming from a single night of drunken revelry in an inn," I said with a smile. "Doesn't seem so strange to me. Whatever happens, whatever you choose…" I put as much feeling as I could into my next words. "I wish you luck. You've earned some."

I turned and started walking again. I'd gone less than ten steps before she called out at my back.

"Wait."

I stopped, turning around again. Emma had a strange look on her face, her lips pressed tight. I noticed then she'd dressed in sturdy travelers clothes, a dark green shirt and trousers beneath a hunter's coat. She had her sword on her back instead of her hip, its fine sheath and hilt disguised by dun cloth. She held a travel pack over her shoulder. It looked heavy.

I'd noted those details before, but had chosen not to mention them. I didn't want to condescend, or judge, to treat her like a child. She'd stopped being one the night she'd renounced her lineage in my eyes.

Emma took a deep breath and I realized she was blushing. Her pale cheeks had turned bright pink. She spoke in a rush. "I want to be a knight."

I turned fully to face her, frowning. Then as I chewed on that statement, I started to put some facts and details together.

Damn. How had I missed it? I should have guessed the moment I saw that book in her room, noted how many times she'd obviously read it. I wondered if it was in her pack even then. There were other clues. Her proclivity for sword play, her interest in my history, in me.

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"How long have you wanted this?" I asked.

"Years." Emma winced, clearly embarrassed. "I hid it from grandmother, but Nath figured it out… she kept telling me she'd send me someone who'd show me what that path looked like. A shining example, she said."

"Ah." I thought that over a moment, then sighed. "Ouch."

"She does have a twisted sense of humor, doesn't she?" Emma's lips formed a crooked smile, then she became serious again. "Even still…"

She stepped forward, lifting her chin. "It's what I want. I want to win glory, live with honor, face all the horrors of this world with naught but my sword and my mien. I want to be in touch with my blood — not just Carreon, but Orley too. They say my great-grandfather's house were among Urn's most honorable, most respected…"

She closed her eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath. "I want to prove it to myself and everyone else. That I can make my own path, be more than my origin."

"It's a hard road," I said. "And a crooked one. They say a lot of pretty things about knighthood, but it's a violent life. Honor is nebulous. It can end up meaning nothing other than what you decide."

My voice turned bitter. "Or what others decide for you. And it doesn't fill your belly when you're hungry. It doesn't make the hard decisions easier."

"Still." Emma's voice was steady. "I want the chance to decide it for myself."

"Will you find another noble, then?" I asked. "Become someone's bannerman? You have the skill for it, and most clans will jump at a chance to get an Art like yours in their arsenal, marriage pacts or no."

Emma opened her mouth, snapped it close, then almost spat in frustration. "You really are a fucking idiot sometimes, aren't you?"

I blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you, oaf?" Emma made a clawing gesture, then let out an angry, almost catlike hiss. "I do! I do, don't I? Fine then."

She stepped forward and pressed a hand to her chest. "I want to go with you. I want to be your squire."

"Emma…" I sighed. "I'm not a knight. I can't have a squire."

"I don't give an troll's backside whether the Church acknowledges you as a knight or not," Emma said in a hard voice. Her eyes were intense, showing that hawk's glare she so often held. "Or all the lords of Urn or all the sorcerer-kings of Edaea for that matter. To hell with all of them, I've renounced them. What I care about is what you've shown me, and it's that you have honor. You fought for me even though it might have ended in your death and disgrace."

She took a deep breath. "That matters to me."

"There are knights all over the land." I knew it couldn't work, what she asked. "Not just nobles and bannermen. There are glorysworn, questing knights, hedge knights, free companies, chivalrous sellswords, adventurer fellowships… hell, there are wizards who could use an apprentice with some sword skill. You don't have any lack of teachers, kid."

"I've decided," she said with no trace of doubt on her angular features. "This is what I want. Refuse me if you will, I will follow you from one edge of the world to the other and learn by watching if I have to."

She trailed off, and much of the emotion in her drained away. Her shoulders took on a slight droop. "Please. I… I don't know what to do next, or where to go. I've never had to take care of myself."

And I'm scared. She wouldn't admit it, might never admit it. Discarded name or no, Emma still had her bloodline's pride.

My skull began to ache and I massaged at it. What she wanted wouldn't work. I wasn't a knight, and hadn't been a particularly good one even when I had been. Even still, looking at the youth in front of me I saw the fear in her, the doubt. She'd just lost everything she'd ever known or been. In every way that mattered, she'd been cast adrift on — as Mother Urddha had put it — tumultuous seas.

She wasn't out of danger, I knew that for certain. The crowfriars wouldn't forget being shown the door, and Vicar's threat that his faction would reclaim Emma's soul still bothered me. More, she still possessed the Carreon Blood Art. Dark things, ghosts and demons, might be drawn to feast on that power, and she wouldn't have any way to defend herself.

Any lingering remnants of her own family might also seek revenge. I doubted a family with a history that dark would have restful dead. Hadn't I already been half certain one of her ancestors were the one possessing Vanya, before Nath revealed herself?

And speaking of Nath, I doubted her plans for Emma Carreon were done either.

I'd helped get her to this point. Perhaps things might have been even worse without my involvement, but I couldn't deny that I'd played a part in how things had turned out. I'd been the one to call for the Rite of Doom and challenge Vicar. I had been the one to bind Orley, and draw the gods into this. I'd acted as Nath's hand.

Could I really just walk away and leave her to tread water alone?

I could. I'd just be a real bastard to do so. I could be that, and had been, but even still.

I took my axe, bound and concealed in cloth like Emma's sword, off my shoulder and propped it on the ground. Resting my hand on the head, I studied the former noble down the length of my nose.

"You understand," I said slowly, "what I am?"

Emma canted her head to one side, considering the question. "They call you Headsman, and you were on speaking terms with those beings. Those… gods."

I knew it cost her something to use that term.

"I am an executioner," I said bluntly. "I'm their axe man. I do dark work, ugly work, and honor doesn't tend to play much of a role in it. You stick with me, I can teach you things. I can train you to fight, teach you sorcery, maybe even give you some guidance on knighthood… but chances are, kid, you'll just as easily become an apprentice Headsman as a knight, and I don't want that for you."

I met her eyes, letting her see the sheen of auratic gold in mine, the ugly scars on my face. "Are you sure I'm the mentor you want?"

Emma closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose, then met my gaze evenly. "Yes. I am certain."

I held her eyes a long while. Not once did she flinch, or avert her face.

Emma had given me leave to speak on her behalf at Liutgarde. I'd taken that responsibility and defended her against the forces of Heaven and Hell.

Had Nath known, even then, how far that decision would stretch? Did she anticipate this?

I certainly hadn't. Even still, I'd made the choices I felt to be just. I might not have had a queen or an order of chivalry to tell me what justice was anymore. I just had to find my own path, navigating each situation as it came, hoping I had the strength to stand by my choices.

Helping Emma hadn't felt wrong to me, not once. Ever since I'd met her, I'd understood one thing — she wasn't evil, and she didn't deserve damnation. She just needed someone to give her a bit of faith.

I could do with a bit more faith in my life. Maybe not faith in gods or higher powers, or in nations, or ancient traditions. But I could have faith in people, in this young woman who wanted to make her own way through an unfair world. Maybe I could help her make better choices than I had, and avoid some of those more twisted paths.

"You're not a Carreon any longer…" I studied her, questioning. "Emma of the Westvales is a bit of a mouthful. What should I call you now, anyway?"

Emma thought about it a moment. Then with a small smile and a shrug she said, "How about Emma Orley? I'd like to try being an honorable fool, see how it fits. Besides," she added wryly, "that name belonged to me as much as Astraea's ever did, and deserves to be remembered. Maybe I can give it some redemption?"

That would piss off the ghosts of House Carreon, if anything did. And more so, it struck me as a noble purpose far more than any want of glory or respect. I closed my eyes, feeling the chill wind on my face as the moment settled on me, and I reached a decision.

"Very well, then." I shouldered my axe and turned toward the wilderness. "Keep up, Emma Orley. We have a long road ahead of us."

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