Free Smoke and Rain by V. Holmes

disappeared. At the door to the third-floor stairway, Arman stopped. “I need you to do something for me.”
    Alea's gaze went from curious to wary. “Surely this can wait.”
    “I'm certain it can't.” He pointed to the floor above them. “There is a man upstairs who needs to hear about what happened in Cehn. I know this is hard, I know you don't want to think about it, let alone speak about it, but he has come a very long way and it's incredibly important.”
    Alea pursed her lips, but he could see the dread in her eyes. “If you ask me to do this, you need to tell me why. More than 'incredibly important.'”
    He closed his eyes tightly. I will not tell a soul. “Why don't you come upstairs and I will tell you both.”
    Finally she nodded. The man paced the short length of the porch, his head down and his fingers fiddling with something at his belt. Seeing them approach, he stopped, his glower falling on Alea. “I'd rather not tell the town gossip about this, boy, if it's all the same to you.”
    Alea stopped in the doorway at his words. “I did not come up here to be mocked.” Her sharp gray eyes fixed on An'thor. “If it's all the same to you.”
    Arman ignored the tossed barbs. “Milady ir Suna is a survivor from Cehn, sir. Her family was the one that sheltered your charges.”
    Alea glanced between the two of them. “He's here about the Laen?” When both men tried to shush her, she sighed and lowered herself into the chair. “Where do you want me to start?”
    “The beginning.” The pale man's words would have been comical if his expression was kind. “When did they arrive? How many were there? What did you speak to them about?”
    Alea held up her hand. “I did not speak to them. They arrived two nights before the attack. They stayed in the children's wing – it was the safest part of the building. My foster-sister Merahn attended them. They arrived at night and there were seven of them. One was young, younger than me. They did not leave their wing, but ihal visited them. I tried to listen in, but I learned little. We all knew what they were, but none of us dared speak it. They were following up on a visit many years before, I guess. The attack came at sundown. I was putting the children to bed. I heard screaming, so I locked the doors to the wing and went to see what happened. By the time I was downstairs the entire southern wing—including the nursery—was in flames. The Laen were in the garden and I tried to reach them, tried to beg them to help fight, to protect us. Instead they surrounded themselves in power. I was several paces away when someone grabbed me. I remember nothing more.”
    Arman could see her shoulders shaking, and he wondered if it was from the bitter cold or the emotions. “Thank you, milady. I know that was not easy.”
    “Their power – what color was it? What color was the girl's power?”
    “Gray. Silver maybe. The girl did not use her power. They protected her.”
    He nodded, a satisfied look on his face. “Thank you, miss. I apologize for my brisk nature.” He turned to Arman. “And they came here?”
    Arman nodded. “We found them sheltered in the manor's ruins. They tended some of the survivors, I think. We brought them here but they did not even stay the night. They told me to look for you. The woman who led them – Liane – gave me an image of you, a memory I think. That is how I knew you. I told them the best way out of the city. They went north, via the western gate. It is bad road, but few travel it.” He picked at the skin around his nails. “What color power does she have?”
    The pale man looked out to the north. “I have never seen it, but it should be black.”
    “She it, isn't she? She's the Dhoah' Laen.”
    The man met Arman's gaze for a moment, but did not answer. “Thank you for your time, and your dedication. I will not forget it.” He paused in the doorway. He did not look at Alea, but his hand rested on her shoulder for a second. “I am