"Something's off about those hills. Eyes up, gentlemen."

A dozen pairs of eyes swivel to their right, and as many hands go to their lances, ready to switch from march to battle.

Murmurs go down the line, and the boyar of Belava, Ivan Vorovic, rides over from the middle of the front rank to Teodor's spot on the left.

"What's this I hear about the hills?"

"They look wrong, to me. Like beasts hiding. I could be wrong, but my instincts are usually good - my rota say I'm a lucky charm."

The man makes the sign of the claw. "Where do you see trouble?"

He gestures to a range around where he sees winds pooling. "About there. Not much, but it might be risky to leave in our rear."

Ivan peers in that direction and mutters to himself, then nods. "Pull up! Stop the line," he calls out.

"We'll send what archers we have forward to scout, and split the lancers to the wings. You can lead the left, I'll lead the right."

"Thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you."

His suspicions prove accurate. It's not a large herd, but when thirty Ungol archers approach, they see hiding Beastmen and fill the hillside with arrows. Some spears are thrown back, but they're able to retreat and cycle back, forcing the beasts to come out of hiding and onto the flatter land if they want to fight back.

(It would be better for them to retreat up the hill, but they are the physical embodiments of frenzied savagery; there was little doubt they'd charge.)

And when they do, the lancers are waiting on either side.

The battle is not, ultimately, very long.

They're back on the march a few hours later, and Ivan rides next to Teodor again.

"Well spotted, cousin Kamarev."

"Well led, cousin Vorovic."

He shrugs. "Any fool could have won that battle, once they knew it was there. But there might be more in the hills that are more of a challenge. Tomorrow, I want your rota on the right flank, watching for anything more. We should be with the northern pulk by the end of tomorrow, but if there were Beasts this far west, there may be more."

"You do me honor. Of course, we will do it."

When this becomes known, it's slightly prestigous for Kyrnoka, but in the end there are no other consequences. They meet up with the other pulk that following evening as expected, and Teodor and a number of other rota-leaders are invited to the boyar's tent for a war council.

"It's a large herd," says Sasha Losov, the northern boyar, "Biggest since my grandfather's time, I think. We couldn't protect Uvetsyn - they fled into the oblast and the beasts destroyed the whole stanitsa, though our scouts say they at least didn't linger to befoul it. Their local hag, Baba Evelina, is with us - she says they want to make Ursun's Teeth a herdstone and the center of their bloodground, and the spirits say they have at least two shaman-chieftains. We've sent a fast horse to the capital to ask for royal help, but we're going to have to fight them at least once before they can reinforce us. We at least have a regiment of Kossars and two more of mounted infantry brought down from Bolgasgrad to hold the line for the horsemen - did you bring any from Belava?"

"Two companies of Kossars, but three days behind at least. One regiment of mounted infantry, half spears and half archers," replies Vorovic.

"Mmm. About as I expected. The good news is we know their destination and we can cover the flanks well enough that we know their direction of approach, as long as we stay close-in enough they can't slip through the net like beasts sometimes do. We guess it will be about four days before they're close enough to attack Urszebya - their centigors have kept our scouts away too well to be more sure. It's another day and a half of riding, three for the Kossars, so anyone in the rotas who hasn't made the pilgrimage before should have time."

"I think we should have patrols watching our wings regardless, cousin Losov. We caught a group hiding along our route, just yesterday. A hundred archers and fifty lancers each, perhaps, and three patrols to each side."

The boyar leading the kossar regiment nods. "I agree. They are savage and simple, but often cunning. With warning, my kossars can move to the side if they have shifted their approach."

Losov grimaces, but then nods. "I will pick a few sharp-eyed rotas for the left wing patrols; cousin Vorovic, you pick them for the right."

They discuss tactics further, but without seeing the enemy force, there's little to elaborate on beyond the traditional approach. Ungol archers will harass the enemy and bait them out of formation, and lancers will charge them, from the flanks or to break their lines. Centigors require caution, since they are one of the few enemies who move as naturally on four legs as the sons of the oblast, but they can be outranged and outsped, and usually can be baited to chase their enemies far from the infantry. False retreats won't be as easy when they have a fixed location to defend, and encirclement rarely works against beasts or Greenskins, but the experienced leaders have all fought battles this way. They can be overwhelmed by superior numbers, and they're worried they might be this time, but they've fought these battles many times before. That is who Kislev is.

Teodor, naturally, is chosen for the scouting patrols. So after they visit the Teeth, and the graves of the heroes, they spread out, the archers mostly taking the lead.

"Oy, how'd all us blind idiots get stuck on patrol duty?"

"Must be the thing where you keep saying I have lucky eyes."

"Damn, should have picked a half-blind rota-master. It's not like we need those to spear things."

"Or you could drink a little less kvas and be able to spot things more than two lengths away."

"Less kvas? Surely that would be an offense to the gods!"

"Which one?"

"Oh, Ursun likes hibernating, right? So probably him. And maybe Tor, for bravery."

"Sounds like a real priest to me!"

The rest of that day is calm, and they see no signs of Beastman raiding parties splitting off in their direction.

But the next day...

"Centigors ahead!", calls an archer, galloping back to the lancers, "They're pulling left, be ready to flank them!"

Teodor and the other leaders give the order, and the half-dozen lancer rotas in the scouting group move into action, turning into a thin line headed east between the river and beasts. Teo and Kyrnoka are at the head of the line, and the commander (the most experienced of the group) is in the middle.

The centigors outnumber the lancers, but not once you take into account the archers as well, and their bitter rage makes them easy to bait into stringing out into a line - a few notice the lancers riding up, but not enough to rally them into a line.

When the charge comes, it is textbook, or would be if they had tactical textbooks in Kislev. With a shout of "Do Tor!", they smash through the Centigor lines and send most of them crashing to the ground, then round back on them to hit the stragglers from the other side. This also works. However,

The group far on the right of the charge - furthest east, further ahead - looks further east and north... and doesn't like what they see.

"Infantry incoming!", shouts Teo, for once something he saw with his ordinary eyes. "We're outnumbered, badly! Pull back to the pulk!"

As they carry the word back down through the patrol, lancers and archers break off, half the archers lagging behind to be sure the centigors retreat rather than follow. They estimate they killed about a hundred for losses of less than a dozen, but the most important thing is to get the full army aware of where the brayherd is shifting.

There is another council of war, this one much less straightforward. Moving the army between Ursun's Teeth and the river is a mistake beastmen usually wouldn't make, so it's possible they're splitting forces and hoping to flank, which is also unlikely to work against a cavalry force.

Someone suggests they may have some of the big, rare monsters and hope to make the pulk face the army of beastmen and be flanked by Ghorgons, Cygors, or beast-spirits from the deep wilds. Nearly everyone present makes the sign of the claw, and the rest make other superstitious gestures. After heated debate, they conclude that the best thing to do in that case is to crush the army, who are smarter, and especially the shamans and wargors who could possibly control the monsters. The royal army can handle them, and they probably can't pollute Urszebya themselves.

Still, they're going to keep the northern patrols going as long as they can risk to be sure there isn't a pincer, and put a lot of riders on the left wing so they can rotate scouts to watch the eastern approach on the day of the battle.

Which is how, when the battle starts, Teodor and his rota are off on the flank rather than in the thick of it, which means there's some grumbling from the younger lancers and shushing from the older, the eternal tradeoff between death and glory being debated as it always is. They skirmish with centigors, but these ones are better-controlled, pulling away back toward the kossar line rather than get thinned out by arrows and opened up to charges.

But after a few hours, there is a sudden burst of activity - a huge flock of birds swirling in the middle of the line, and a monstrous beast looming over the battlefield.

The order comes quickly - screw patrols, they need every lance and bow to keep the defense from collapsing.

Teo can see that this was all magical - that ugly black-brown color that comes when bray-shamans grab the wind of the wild and corrupt it with Za. That doesn't help much in responding, but when they get closer, it does mean he can pick out the shamans clearly.

The fighting is rough. Beastmen are big, and even when their line is shaky, charging can be difficult because the lancers get split up, some charging through and others having to turn back. Fortunately, individual rotas don't get split up as easily and every dozen men has an officer, so this is usually recoverable.

The spells get aimed their way once or twice, and Teo's able to tell the horsemen to split up and avoid the spell as it forms - perpetuating the 'lucky' story, though by the second time he suspects his vague excuses for random orders are getting more transparent.

It gets worse. More dark beast-magic, and the shamans suddenly start moving much more quickly, like they got onto chariots. Then they're coming his way, and what looks like every remaining centigor with them, headed straight east and determinedly smashing everything in their way. Some of the lancers are about to sound a counter-charge when more of the enormous beast-spirits materialize, and on the opposite side of the Kislevites from the shamans.

To make matters worse, a rider from where the infantry's horses are gathered, in between the Teeth, gallops up and shouts that another, probably smaller, brayherd is approaching from the north.

Oh, shit. And if these shamans get out... the rest of the army isn't doing fantastic. They might be able to pollute the holy site before the pulk can drive them off or the royal army arrives.

What's the chances they can break the chariots and drive the shamans into the river before the spirit-monsters get on top of them? Not good, and he'll die of it, but such is duty.

"Charge! Push them into the river! Let the monsters try and catch us! Do Tor!"

Never bad last words.

The beastmen are expecting this, unfortunately, and wheel to face them and meet the charge. The rota comes off better than the beasts, but not well enough to dislodge the shamans or push them against the riverbank.

But hey, what's that across the river? That cloud is moving mighty fast.

He pulls a length back and stands in the saddle to get a better view, and 'view', and gets his first view of Ice Magic. Lightning and ice crackling around three figures and their mounts, galloping gray horses with their hooves wrapped in wind.

And the cloud, of fog and magic, is getting bigger and more dense, and headed right for him. He glances back, and energy is streaming over his head from Ursun's Teeth to the oncoming witches.

That's not going to stop when it runs out of beasts. His whole flank force is going to be crushed.

No time for excuses. "Incoming! Wheel right! Wheel right! At the gallop, Ursun damn us!"

"What?! Leave them to run!?"

"Now! Trust me, or my luck runs out here!"

His rota breaks off and follows with him, and their galloping retreat causes a wave of others to imitate them, whether because they trust them to be doing something sensible or because it looks like it's turning into a rout and it's hard to be one of the holdouts who's going to be stuck alone.

The main body of the brayherd isn't looking good. Most of the pulk is streaming away to the north to face the other brayherd, but what remained has been trapped against the river, dying to arrows if they retreat off the banks and being split and smashed by lances if they try to leave any other way.

Teo orders his rota to a walk, veering off toward the riverbank as more horses stream behind them.

"Boss, why'd you pull us away? Won't the shamans get away and get their victory?"

"They would," he replies with a tired smile, "If not for that." He gestures to the large cloud, just about to reach the south bank of the river.

Which is when three gray horses burst into view past the fog and rear up, standing on the surface of the river with frost-rimed hooves. The storm suddenly surges to roll over them at a gallop, and as it crosses the river it begins to loose lightning over and over, striking everything in its path, beast or man.

"Do Tor!"

There's a clatter of shields and spears as the rota and all the others realize what's happening.

"Do Tor!"

The storm kills the shamans and centigors, and the summoned spirit-monsters fall apart not long after. The Ice Witch and her two Maidens take charge of everyone still cleaning up the first brayherd, and when the storm rolled over them (attenuated but still present) they started to fall apart. Archers picked off the few wargors trying to rally them, and most of the herd broke and fled.

The pulk was exhausted, and her ladyship the Ice Witch didn't push them to pursue. So they make an enormous camp to wait for the standing army. Graves are dug for the loyal sons (and occasional daughters) of Kislev - they'll be buried together on the outskirts of the holy site they died protecting, with some bones taken home to bury in their family graves. Pyres are made for the beasts, to purify them with Dazh's fire (started with lightning from the witch, who practices the Father's Lore of Storms and so can invite the purity of Tor as well).

And they drink and carouse - celebrating their survival, and toasting the memories of those who died. As one does.

Which Teo is doing himself - they only lost one from their eight, so more the celebration than the memorial. He will probably have to worry about awkward questions about his luck from his comrades, but not tonight.

Right?

"Pardon me, are you the rota from Kyrnoka?", asks a woman in white, who slipped in from the shadows a moment ago.

Oh, dear, there's going to be questions from someone else.

Fortunately, he doesn't drink much, for a Kislevite. He's practically sober.*

"That's us, my lady witch," he says, "I'm Teodor Kamarev, rota-master and son of the ataman."

(*terms and conditions apply, may not be valid south of the Talabec)

"Come speak with me at my fire, will you?"

"As my lady commands," he says, and scans her coat for signs of rank, seeing that she does indeed have one. Boyarin, probably, and she's a full Ice Witch rather than an Ice Maiden if he remembers right.

"How soon?"

"Now would be convenient."

He is in trouble. "Then give me a moment to trade my kvas for my heavier coat."

She nods, and doesn't speak again until they're walking. She doesn't act like she's shepherding someone to their probable execution, but Ice Witches are said to be very unemotional, maybe she wouldn't.

As they approach a smaller fire with three tents around it, putting off less heat than most, she asks, "Have you met a witch before?"

"Not an Ice Witch, my lady. Hags, yes, three counting the one with the pulk this week."

"Oh? The one nearest your village, I assume, and who is the third?"

"Baba Sonya from Kyrnoka, and... on her advice, Baba Ostankya."

"Don't give me bullshit, Kamarev."

"On my honor, I met her and lived. It was perhaps foolish to make the trip, but I did."

"You seem to believe that," she says absently, "Why?"

"A... dangerous personal matter, now resolved."

"Hmm," she says, and gestures for him to take a seat. The fire is cold, and only the two Storm Maidens are present.

"Enough of that. I spoke to some boyars, and they said that the rout on the left flank began when a unit of lancers suddenly broke and fled. And when I asked several rotas, they said that the rota was yours. That you ordered them to break and run."

"Yes, that happened. And yes, I did."

"That could have been catastrophic. We needed those shamans and centigors dead, not fled, to protect Ursun's Teeth long enough for the Tzarina to arrive."

"But it wasn't, was it. You saw to that."

"Cowardice under fire can be punished quite harshly."

"Can saving several hundred lives from being pointlessly spent not be rewarded, merely because it looks like cowardice?"

"You predicted the storm."

"You were already gathering it. I didn't know what you were doing, of course, but I have lucky eyes, ask anyone from my patrols."

"I heard them joke about it, yes. How'd you get so lucky?"

"Well, when I left Baba Ostankya she gave me a blessing. Maybe that had more tangible effect than I thought."

"There's not much I would say she isn't capable of," she agrees with a nod, while covertly gripping the energy of storms behind him.

Then she whips them around in front of his face, completely invisible to mundane senses.

He doesn't actually speak, but he starts backward jerkily.

"Ah. That is a good source of 'luck', isn't it? I thought that retreat had been suspiciously well-timed."

"Yes. The Sight is surprisingly useful leading a rota, whether against beasts, Kyazans, or Zelenyie."

"You know perfectly well the penalty for men-witches. And so concealed the source of your 'luck' from your men."

"Yes and no. Yes, that is why I concealed it. But no, I face no penalty. I am not a witch. Baba Ostankya made sure of that. Have I touched the winds, or the ice, even once?"

"Not that I could sense. Which is not the confidence we need."

"So, that's it? You kill me, because you don't trust that I dealt with your problem already myself? I swear by Ursun I spoke no lie; let his Teeth swallow me up or his children kill me if I can touch magic, or ever could in any future days."

"One mistake, cousin Kamarev. One man we miss, who learns a little Ice Magic and destroys all we worked for, and leaves the Motherland without our protection in its hour of need. I will take what precautions I deem necessary."

He snarls. "So you do whatever you like, because you happened to be born with witch-gift. Fine. What do you want? I saw the problem, I risked my life to have it fixed perfectly, because I couldn't bear to give up my new set of eyes, I got the greatest Hag Witch in Kislev - and that counts for nothing. So what do you want?"

Oh no, she likes him. It's been ages since anyone outside the sisterhood stood up to her.

"And if we'd both been born without it, hmm? You'd be a respected warrior and I'd be just another noblewoman with no power except through my husband. Is that any more fair?"

She wasn't really planning to argue but it kind of slipped out.

"Well, no. But the world is as it is. To live, we must fight off the invaders and birth the next generation, and few could bear both of those dangers and perpetuate their stanitsa."

"And keeping me from running business, that is the world as it is too?"

"Would they really? I thought only southerners would be so foolish, if you showed yourself clever."

"Well, you're consistent at least - but we're losing the point. I need to do something about you. And if it isn't death, then what?"

"Do you really think I could swear falsely to Ursun, here beside his Teeth? Bring any priest, examine me however you like. I am true and truthful."

"I suppose I can... Inna, Katya, keep him here I get back. If he decides to run or touch magic, I have misjudged him, and you will kill him immediately."

"Yes, Lady Kajetana."

And she turns and strides off.

Well, that... could have gone worse. Given that he came to an Ice Witch's attention, it was probably foolish to think it could have gone better. She is at least trying to be reasonable.

"I didn't hear her name," he remarks to the fire.

"Lady Teisiya Velikaya Kajetana, Ice Witch of the Father's Lore. Envoy of the Tzarina."

"Thank you. City boyarina?"

"I believe so."

"I will try not to offend her any further."

Teisiya is off looking for a relatively sober priest of Ursun, two criteria which unsurprisingly conflict with each other. Most who she asks are puzzled why she considers it urgent, so she takes most of an hour, but she explains to the eventual recruit that she needs an oath witnessed unmistakably, and will have to kill a loyal son of Kislev if she cannot. He weighs this against his next few mugs of kvas and judges it worth doing, so he returns along with her.

"Lady Kajetana."

"Cousin Kamarev. We are going to go to the Teeth themselves, and you will re-swear the oath you gave me with this fine gentleman to witness."

"And then will you be satisfied?"

"I will."

"Wonderful. No sense waiting, then."

"Maidens, with us," she orders, and they head off to the Teeth.

Urszebya, Ursun's Teeth, is a valley full of jagged black standing stones which predate human settlement as far as anyone could ever remember. Legend says that in Ursun's youth he took a bite out of the world here, and left many of his teeth behind. It is one of the holiest sites in Kislev, and a huge center of magical power, possibly the heart of Kislev's strength. (This was why it was so necessary to protect - if the Beastmen were able to pollute it, it might ruin all the witches and priests of Kislev.) It is also a graveyard of heroes.

And the five of them walk through the largest entrance, between two of the larger menhirs, standing in front of the oldest grave - Shoika's son Gerelt, who died leading an army which held back the first major Chaos incursion after the formation of Kislev.

The priest (a big burly man with a wild beard and many scars) nods to Teodor. "Give your oath when you are ready."

"I am no witch, though I have witch-sight and was born with witch-gift. It was removed from me by Baba Ostankya herself. I cannot touch the winds or the ice, and I will never be able, even if I someday wished it. I will not and cannot be a witch. So I swear to Ursun, and let him swallow me up where I stand or send his children to devour me and curse me if I told a lie."

The energy swirls around him, but she still wants confirmation. "Father Yuri?"

"Ursun hears and witnesses the oath. He must speak true."

"Good. I would so hate to waste a loyal son of Kislev like you, Teodor. You can return to your rota. Though I'd appreciate it if you visit me before you head for Kyrnoka."

"Thank you, cousin Kajetana," he says cautiously, but he doesn't let that make him stick around longer than he has to.

"I like him," she remarks to Katya.

"Just because he has a temper to match the storm?"

"Well, it doesn't hurt. But mostly he's clever."

"Do you think the tzarina will trust your report?"

"Yes. But not enough to overrule the rest of the Ice Court."

"And they won't."

"They might. But very probably not. Some of them won't trust him out of their sight, no matter what."

"So then this was a waste?"

"I'll have a plan by the time we get back to the capital."

The regular army, its supply chain, and Tzarina Katarin arrive half a week later, and scouting reports come back soon after finding that the remaining brayherd has fallen apart into smaller groups, with only about half their present locations accounted for and several groups leaving a blatant trail that walks into a particularly dense thicket and immediately ceases to leave any trail, as beastmen sometimes do. She indicates that those groups are gone and cannot be followed, and they should not attempt to. (Baba Evelina from Uvetsyn, when quietly asked, confirms that as they suspect, this is witchy business, and agrees that she is right.)

After two days of local court and properly paying her respects to Urszebya, she departs, bringing most of her army, the kossars, and much of the northern rotas who had arrived initially. Another two days of scouting and all but the closest rotas are released to return home.

On the outer edge of the ridge that creates the valley of Urszebya, there are a number of stone ledges, significantly lighter in color than the teeth themselves. Teodor sits down next to Teisiya on one the morning he expects to leave.

"You wanted to speak with me."

"I did. Did you work out why?"

"I imagine you've spoken to the tzarina about me since we last spoke. And you didn't think this would be - properly solved."

"Correct. Her Majesty trusts my judgement and my evaluation. I am still satisfied, and so is she. But not so confidently that she will intercede for you if the Ice Court objects that we can't take the risk, and several of them, particularly those deep in the Mother's Lore, surely will. You can go home to Kyrnoka... but others may come looking. If not soon, then eventually."

"So, what, I have to run off to the Imperinyi after all? Or get the Sight stripped away, and waste that whole foolish journey?"

"You could. Have you met any of their 'Witch Hunters'? You'd make an excellent one, searching for secret Chaos cultists and dark mages. Really, a clever boy like you is wasted as assistant ataman to a single stanitsa."

"Or?"

The flattery isn't subtle. He has a guess, but he's going to make her say it.

"Or you could do that same job, but work for me. If I am vouching for a stranger a hundred miles away, my judgment carries only so much weight. For a man I've handed a chekist's coin and frequently observe closely - much more."

"Who are you?"

"A hand of the Tzarina. She can't be everywhere, and some problems can't be dealt with when pageantry follows her wherever she goes. Sometimes that means rushing to a crisis with our horses riding the storm; sometimes it means investigating criminal gangs or noble secret societies that might be committing blasphemy and treason, not just graft and bribery. And sometimes it means hunting for ruins to cleanse them before someone else digs them up."

"That's... not exactly what I thought the chekist did."

"It isn't. It's merely... close enough. I and the others in my position are allowed to use the chekist and the kossars, within reason."

"That's a less awful offer than I expected you to give me. And more voluntary."

"If I could only get you working for me under duress, it would be foolish to try. A hostile clever subordinate is far more danger than they're worth. I've tried it, briefly, when I couldn't do without their expertise, but it's always a matter of how long I can make use of them before they turn on me or I on them."

Eesh. He'd heard Ice Witches are cold, but...

"How long do I have to think about it?"

"I'll be along at least as far as Belava. If you decide to take my offer, I can make the detour to Kyrnoka if you need it."

"I'll be thinking hard about it. Until then."

And then he's back to his rota, to get them ready to go.

"Off talking with the Ice Witches again, sir?", says his second-in-command Vitali, a man nearly twice his age who is a natural sergeant despite rotas not having sergeants.

"Yes. They... may be riding along with us to Belava."

"Really? Why?"

"I'll tell you about it when we're moving. I'd rather not scare the whole rota."

"Fair enough."

And then, when they are moving, they pull ahead, and he asks again. "So? What's up?"

"Me. I - was not totally honest with you men. I knew perfectly well where my 'luck' came from."

"What, you're a witch?", he says, alarmed.

"No. But I do have the Sight. And I was born with the gift; remember when I left town for Dukhlys Forest three autumns ago? That was to get the gift taken away, so I could avoid the death sentence Ice Witches pass on man-witches."

"If you got it taken away... What's the problem?"

"Well, it's hard to prove I can't do it. If you had a bad arm but it looked just the same as a healthy one, and someone said 'You clearly have two good arms, why aren't you training for the rota?', you'd have a hard time proving them wrong, right?"

"And you have the eyes, so they think you have the hands. Ah. But she didn't kill you."

"No, I swore by Ursun and she says she believes me. But she doesn't think all her sisters will, and some of them may come after me. So it looks like I'll be leaving you as rota-master, one way or the other."

"Down across the Talabec?"

"Or working for the lady witch. Like chekist or kossars, searching for subtle problems and dealing with them on the Tzarina's behalf."

"Do as you think best, then. But I think I would rather work for Kislev than the Imperinyi, even if it's ugly."

"Do you think the men, or the stanitsa, will be offended, that I didn't tell them the whole truth? I never lied, but that's not saying much."

"Not much, maybe, but it matters. And you did right by us. Saved our lives from that storm the ladies called, didn't you? Your father... he'll be annoyed. And the rest of the village, well, they can go east to Dazh with their complaints, for all I care."

"Thank you, Vitali. I appreciate your advice."

That afternoon, Teisiya pulls away from her two charges and alongside Teodor. "Have any more questions to ask me?"

"About you, yes. To you? Not so far."

"'What is she like as a boss?', 'Does she keep her word?', that sort of thing?"

"Things like that. Well, maybe one question for you. How many times have you killed a hostile subordinate, over how many years?"

"Three. Over twelve years. Four more where I offered to let them live if they'd work, and killed them when it was clear they'd refuse. Recruiting subordinates honestly, a few dozen times - not counting Maidens from the Court."

"How long have those two been working for you?"

"Katya, since the start of last winter. Inna, just this month."

"I trust you'll not be offended if I ask them questions about working under you?"

"Not at all. I'll pitch my tent separately tonight to give you the opportunity."

"Thank you."

And so when they make camp, he sits down near the two Storm Maidens.

"Do you mind if I sit with you a while?"

"Be welcome," says Katya, and then, "You have questions about Lady Kajetana."

"Well, I'm also curious about you and the Ice Court. But yes, mostly."

"Then ask away," says Inna, "We don't bite. Yet."

He blinks, but decides to ignore it. "I'd always heard Ice Witches are... well, cold. Hard. Unemotional. The kind to make big trades in lives and never think to flinch. But the three of you don't seem that way. Is it just the tzarina?"

Katya cackles, "Oh, don't say that at Court. But no. Ice Witches are really two kinds - the Mother's Lore of deep frost and winter that never ends, and the Father's Lore of the blizzard and winds that sweep the oblast. We are Storm Maidens, not Frost Maidens - stulents of the Father. Once we finish training and our maiden's vows are done, we are all Ice Witches, but we still know only one of the lores - to try both is to risk Dhar, the dark lore of Chaos, seeping into our minds."

"And Her Majesty mastered the Mother's Lore, and became cold-hearted, as the stories say? Then what happens to your hearts?"

"She did, yes. The greatest mistress of Frost since Shoika. Tempest witches still have a little ice in our hearts, but we are stormy - great temper, great affection, great sadness, and all of them changeable. Maidens less than full witches - I think that's a rule of magic everywhere, that the more you use the energy the more you become like it."

"Huh. That's probably why Hags are so mysterious, too, isn't it."

"Probably. They don't like us very much."

"True enough. So what's it like, being Her Majesty's problem-solvers?"

"Well, I don't know," says Inna, "I was only assigned here because I have Riding The Storm mastered and my teacher thought I was ready for battle-casting experience."

"We cover a lot of miles on horseback, sometimes even in winter," says Katya, "Responding when our investigators find problems they can't deal with. I rarely have any idea what to prepare for and she tells me what she knows on the way. Usually we're delivering a hammer-blow to the problem, but sometimes we're just an enormous threat that makes an organization break apart as they try to earn mercy by betraying each other. And occasionally I shed the robes and I'm a pretty girl charming men into confessing something that can damn them."

"And that last one works?"

"It does when Teisiya thinks it's a good idea to try it. One of the others who do this job told me she's much better at that trick than most witches."

"She's good at reading people, then?"

"Excellent," Katya nods, "I've never seen her be far wrong. Helps with deciding whether to trust people who say they'll turn to our side."

"She likes you," adds Inna, "And trusts you. If she didn't I think she'd just tell you to head south and keep going."

"Well, I am trustworthy. Other than the whole time spent keeping my Sight secret so you wouldn't notice me. I guess I'll just assume she has good taste."

"...She sounds like someone who could really mess with people's heads."

"Almost never to allies, and subordinates only when she considers it necessary for their work. But, yes, when she does it's intimidating to see happen."

"Except for silliness."

"Okay, that's fair, sometimes she pulls pranks. Not all the Ice Court have lost their sense of humor."

"Okay, now I know you're bullshitting me."

"What, us? Playing tricks on you? Can't be, ice froze all our sense of humors off while we swore our Maiden's Vows."

"Okay, I recognize the absurdity, here, but... pranks? I can't picture it."

"Everyone needs to relax somehow, even the ice-hearted masters. Some people spar, some weave... some indulge their sense of humor."

"Not that she doesn't spar, but she said it makes her all energetic. She'd probably show you if you ask."

Katya gives Inna a quelling look, which she responds to with an innocent face.

He suspects he is picking up on the subtext but he is still not going to touch it. "Honestly, someone with that kind of skill, the hobby I'd expect is, probably, nosy matchmaker."

Inna laughs. "Oh, she'd love that. But we're not called Storm Maidens for no reason - until we're full Witches we can't marry."

"And once we do, we have too much seniority for her to boss us into matches. Maybe when she's older and outranks everyone but the Tzarina," Katya adds.

"I guess that would do it. Different question - how much do her investigators travel around? Ones like I might be, not witches."

"Less. You saw our horses when we arrived at the battle, when we use Riding the Storm we can outgallop any horse born or made, or match a canter at a trot and keep that up all day. Enchanted bridles or horseshoes can help, but mostly non-witches - and any Frost Witches working with us - stay in one city, or one part of the oblast, rather than try to keep up."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Did you really go ask Baba Ostankya for help in person?"

"Hah. Yes, and I said then I wasn't sure whether it was brave or foolish, but now I think foolish. I asked Baba Sonya if she could take the witch-gift away but leave the Sight, and she said, 'well, I can't, but you could go talk to the dangerous Mother Hags', and I decided it was worth it."

"Too useful?"

"No, though it has proven useful, much more than I thought. No, I just liked the new sense I acquired and didn't want to give up the beauty of it. And so I risked my life to visit her hut in Dukhlys Forest and nearly died three times at least."

"You must not have seen Dhar. It's nasty, and it sticks to you," says Inna.

"I wouldn't give it up, though," replies Katya.

"Yeah, me neither. I don't know, probably it wasn't worth it, I don't want to be sent to Ursun young... but I would miss it much more than being able to do magic."

"Well, foolish endeavors always seem to end up succeeding improbably in the kind of stories you walked into. Maybe we shouldn't be surprised you got out."

"I had this mad impulse to ask for a flying ship while I was there - do they tell that story where you grew up? - but I resisted the urge."

They laugh, so presumably yes, they tell that one.

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask us?"

"No, I think I have enough to think about. It was pleasant speaking with you, ladies."

"Likewise. See you on the march, Teodor."

"What do you actually foresee me doing for you, Lady Kajetana?", he asks late the next day, after pulling up alongside her on the ride.

"A fair question, and I don't know for sure. Men with the Sight are nearly unheard of, and women with the Sight exist, but almost all are snapped up as wise-women and unwilling to work for the Ice Court except very indirectly. I'd have some training I do for most of my Night Wind agents first, with the chekist and some reformed thieves..."

"Which are entirely separate categories, I'm sure."

"Well, not entirely... and also training to improve the specificity and clarity of your Sight that I normally do with my Storm Maidens. It would be difficult to rotate you around like my witches, so I'd expect I'd usually put you on investigations in the major cities, where you can be moved between incidents more quickly if they need unusual eyes to confirm or refute suspicions. Maybe Praag - witches and southern wizards find the place intolerable to live, have ever since the Great War, but equally they need some sharp witch-eyes because they have no end of magical problems."

"Intolerable why?"

"Dhar, dark magic, has lingered there ever since the Za burned it down. If you've heard the rumors about the dead walking in Praag? They're true, and that's why. It's not as bad now as the century afterwards, the last significant incursion didn't leave nearly as much taint, but it never goes away. To those with magic it feels like living in a poisonous pit of tar; we don't go there unless called, and neither do the hags, though they're called much more often. It might be that anyone with the Sight will feel it as keenly as a witch, but it might not be, so I'll at least send you there for a month to see how you cope."

"Don't go telling me what I'm going to do, I haven't decided yet."

"Yes you have, dear cousin, you just haven't decided how much I'm going to have to promise you to get you off the fence. But that's fine, I don't get to haggle often enough anyway."

"So I can name my price, can I? Dangerous words."

"Not quite what I said, but not quite wrong either. You know perfectly well you're a unique talent, I won't pretend you don't have leverage. Tell you what, give it the afternoon to think what you want to demand, and we can do the haggling by my fire tonight."

"...I'll do that. Until tonight, then."

He sits down next to her at her small fire, in front of her (remarkably large) tent. It's chilly, but then it's autumn in Kislev.

He starts without preamble, "I don't want to get involved in politics. Outright traitors, that's probably fine, but struggles between the boyars and the druzhina and the crown, no. She's been a good tzarina, a worthy successor to her father, but I don't want to be involved in the maneuvering over who has power inside Kislev. And if we're maneuvering against the imperinyi, that's not what I signed up to do either."

"I'm not a kossar, I'm not leaving my life behind. I get significant stretches to go home to Kyrnoka, at least every year. Not enough to lead the rota, I don't want to try, but enough I'm still known as a local son. And paid enough that I can help them with dengas where I can't with labor."

"And I want a way out. If it gets ugly in some way I don't see today, if working in the underworld and interrogating like a chekist aren't something I can live with, I can stop working for you. By the end of that investigation, if immediately is too fast to replace. And go south, or do something innocuous in the capital, or something else."

"Oh, you'll be able to help in ducats, don't worry about that," she says absently while she considers the rest.

"I can give you a fast option to leave or refuse a task that gets purely political - your job is cults and magic, Chaos and the dead, not whether guildmasters and boyars are scheming to force the tzarina to give them power. And a slower one to leave entirely. I don't think, after working with Ice Witches for years, the Court will ever let you entirely out of our sight, so not south, but I could argue them down to only spending a day being looked you over just before and after winter and unexpected checks once a season would be enough. Possibly you'd help train Maidens in weapons and Sight, but if not we'd find something, there's plenty of work to be found for a trusted, literate druzhina, especially a clever one."

"Does that seem enough?"

"...Yes, I suppose it does. I expected to have to haggle more."

"Your expectations were a little too low, you didn't ask for that much, and the biggest thing is one that kept you a lot of your leverage if you really hate the deal. We might haggle again in the future, but for now? Welcome to my team."

"Alright, then. Can I ask you slightly personal questions, new boss?"

"Go right ahead."

"First one, I'd always heard Ice Witches hate fire - so why do you three still have campfires?"

"Oh, that one is mostly Frost Witches. We all stop needing heat, but experienced Frost Witches find fire painful - like a headache. And for Storm Witches, well, we still need the light. Especially if we want someone to come find us in the evening. Though we have our own vulnerabilities."

"I see. Well, I suppose I should know what those are, too."

"Enclosed spaces. Most of the Maidens don't have the mark yet, but it's common among the full witches. All our quarters and hallways have high ceilings, to let the air flow, and we dislike sitting in corners. Tents aren't as bad as wood and stone, but that's one of the reasons I have a large one."

"Suppose a little trouble watching your back in a tavern is a small price to pay for magic. What are the other reasons?"

"Well, sometimes someone else wants to come get warm."

Did she just?

"...Ah. That's probably why Inna and Katya kept teasing me, isn't it?"

"I did tell them I liked you."

She stretches, her cloak falling half-off.

"Well? Cold?"

He notices. He really notices. But...

"Not at the moment. But there are always more nights, and winter is coming. I'm sure my tent will be cold soon enough."

She kind of wants to congratulate him on playing along so well, but how?

"Well, I haven't entirely forgotten how men keep warm, ask me for help any time."

"Maybe after Kyrnoka when the rota's gone home. A lonely tent is always colder."

"Maybe then. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"I'm sure there was, but I have completely forgotten it. I'm sure I'll remember another day."

"Then don't let me keep you. Good to have you around, Teodor."

"I'm looking forward to it, Teisiya," he says, and gives her a shallow bow as he stands and leaves.

Oh, she is going to have so much fun with this boy.