“You can’t be serious,” Rida clapped back, confused by what the half-breed had said. “You don’t look a thing alike!”

The healer's comments riled Khazmine to the point where she was nearly frothing with rage, yet the outcast tamped down her anger. Khazmine forced herself not to clench her hands, now that there was potent medicine on them, and took a deep breath before responding.

“And yet, I see their hollowed out faces and sunken eyes and it’s plain as day,” Khazmine replied, emboldened to approach the tiny healer slowly on aching legs without a hint of fear. She stopped halfway once Rida raised his hands defensively. “From their ratty hair to their empty bellies, can’t you see the resemblance?”

“Miss, I know you must have grown rather fond of the boys or what-have-you,” Rida protested, trying to get the stubborn outcast to see reason. “But it’s Nature’s Way—”

“Then I DEFY her!” Khazmine shouted loudly enough to rattle the laboratory door on its hinges. It was intolerable that she’d hear that same excuse the outcast had told herself a few weeks ago, especially from the mouth of a respected healer. “Crown me fool for fighting, but I won’t just let him die!”

Rida quickly searched the rest of his research chamber to see if any objects were in Khazmine’s grabbing distance and prepared himself for a tantrum that never came. Instead, the half-breed continued limping toward Rida, and he could finally see the pained look in her weary eyes.

“…He’s seven years old, Rida,” Khazmine whispered while struggling to contain her sorrow. “He’s never seen the twin suns eclipse, never attended the Feast of Merkander, nor heard a ballad of roving bard song…”

“And he never will, unless we do something,” the outcast insisted as her welling tears finally lost their battle with gravity. “I’ll stake any sum as payment to keep my boys alive and thriving. Just name your price. I’ll even cast from flesh if you ask me to… So please say that you’ll help me. I don’t know what else to do.”

A thick, poignant pause hung in the air as Khazmine stared out through a veil of tears to wait for the healer’s reply. The outcast had offered her own flesh and blood to pay for Pavo’s treatment, and Rida could plainly see the sincerity in her expression. The bandaged southerner smoothed the ragged edge of luminescent medical tape over his cheek again before finally breaking the tense silence.

“You’ll need a disguise, miss,” Rida scanned the mud-covered outcast from head to toe to estimate her proportions. Khazmine was in great need of a trip to the bathhouse, a haircut, and a fresh set of clothing. “A proper one, I mean. Holloworth is too close to the Grand Cathedral for you to approach while using Deceiver magic, so we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“What did you have in mind?” Khazmine asked with renewed vigor. Rida had practically agreed to help, though she sensed that he was reluctant to go with her directly.

“Well, as far as I can see, you have two options.” Rida strode over to a double-doored mahogany wardrobe with ornate carvings in its weighty doors. He swung open one side to reveal a shocking collection of fancy clothing which, while out of fashion, was certainly expensive and well maintained. “I see you as either a representative of the Solanai, or possibly a young lady looking for something you can only get in Holloworth. Either way, you’ll need to produce some form of identification to get past the gate master.”

That would be a problem. Identification in Old Sarzonn was difficult for a commoner to come by, especially if they were from The Dregs. Most gate masters would accept a Provenance, a writ of identification, or even an officer’s badge if they had the proper credentials to go with it. As a former denizen of the slums, poor Khazmine had no access to such finery, unless…

The ruddy pin. Khazmine pawed at her bolero jacket pocket, smearing what was left of the medicinal sludge from her palm and fingers onto the water-stained garment. Sure enough, Mister Hallem’s rank insignia pin was still there, with a hint of the potent medicine smudging the ruby stone denoting the Solanai warrior’s rank. “How about this?”

Rida narrowed his eyes at the rank insignia with a curious expression before closing in on Khazmine and removing it from her slimy fingertips. “Where did you get this? You didn’t—”

“N-no, it’s on loan,” Khazmine assured the healer with animated hand gestures. “I didn’t steal it. The owner owes me twenty-two stags and gave this to me as collateral.”

“I’m choosing to believe you right now, miss,” Rida said as he side-eyed the half-breed through a dubious squint. Twenty-two stags was a paltry sum to pay for such a finely-cut precious stone. A quick glance at Khazmine’s puzzled expression informed the healer that she had no idea what a stone of this size and quality was truly worth, and she was likely innocent of any thievery to get it. “All I can say is ‘don’t you dare lose it.’”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Khazmine countered indignantly as she retrieved the pin from Rida’s delicate grasp. “Now, what more do we need to pull this off?”

The laboratory door squeaked imperceptibly behind them as the tiny Outsider backed his ear away from the jagged crack between the door and frame. He’d startled awake from the sound of Lady Kiss-Me shouting, and had gotten up to investigate, only to hear her impassioned pleas for help from the healer. Aranthus scrunched his nose at the older southerner who didn’t want to support Lady Kiss-Me but allowed his muscles to relax once Rida had started to provide assistance.

Exhausted and finally succumbing once again to the effects of Rida’s sedative, Aranthus trudged ineffectually back to the bedrolls that the healer had prepared for him and Pavo to sleep on. He didn’t remember tumbling back into the bed, nor grabbing Pavo’s sleeping fingers with his pale-blue hand. Aranthus’s last waking thoughts drifted to Lady Kiss-Me and Pavo, and the promise of building a life together once his little brother was well again.

---

Vibrant golden rays from twin suns poured through the streets of Old Sarzonn the next morning, ringing buildings, garden foliage, and a pair of thick, white gates with a wondrous glow. The gates themselves resembled a stand of thinned trees, whose trunks wove and intertwined delicately amongst themselves to keep out intruders and vagabonds alike.

Standing in front of the massive gates were a pair of city guards on rotation, who shifted the visors on their helmets to block out the intense beams from the twin suns. Of the two men standing guard, one managed to parse a faint outline of a young woman approach through the dawn fog, bearing a heavy purse of clinking metal and walking with a limp.

It wasn’t until she came closer that the guard filled in the silhouette of a woman shorter than him, with a thin, pale-lilac face, piercing blue eyes, and shocks of long, silver hair under a black hat with a braided red band. Her hat was trimmed with rare wyrbird feathers, whose plumes danced delicately in the morning breeze like maroon willow leaves. The guard tried not to stare, but found his eyes lingering on the fine black leather vest and crisp dark linen clothing this curious visitor wore. What drew his eyes most was a small, golden pin with a sizeable marquise-cut ruby set in it. The larger stone was flanked by two smaller black pearls, denoting this individual as a person of rank, who the guard saw fit to address appropriately.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” the elder of the two guards greeted with a respectful nod of his heavy helmet.

“Blessings and virtues to you,” the young sergeant replied with a hint of stern impatience in her voice. “It’s suns’ up already. Are the shops and hospital open yet?”

“Yes, ma’am, over an hour now,” the younger, second guard offered. “Have you business in Holloworth?”

Khazmine shot the curious man a cutting look with her tilted head, as if implying he had some unfortunate mental deficiency that rendered him incapable of asking proper questions. He’d watched her limp all the way to the gates and heard the woman ask for the hospital hours, yet he was still foolish enough to press the officer for information. “I am in need of directions to a proper hospital. Our barracks healer is insufficient for my needs, as you see.”

The younger guard looked to his superior for confirmation, unsure if they should permit an off-duty Solanai through the gates. It was highly irregular for such officers to stray so far north, and even more so for them to seek medical attention from anyone other than their mongrel healer that skittered around the barracks for scraps. This woman looked like someone of means, and had a heavy purse to match, but the guards still hesitated to permit a stranger’s entry.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ll need to see some identification,” the unsure guard insisted while his elder partner shot him a glare that bore through his forehead with its intensity. He’d seen first-hand how ornery and savage these Solanai could be and had even heard from a friend that a small party of them had absolutely obliterated an entire Star of his holiness’s guards about a month ago or so. It was unwise to detain her without cause, and even more unwise to rile a Solanai officer, regardless of her rank.

“Are you new here?” Khazmine turned up her nose at the naïve guard and scowled at his impertinence. The second guard’s glance darted to his feet at the forcefulness of her question, and he suddenly found himself fascinated by crawling insects scuttling away from his armored boots. “How dare you question me? Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but it’s standard procedure to ask when we see new faces come through,” the more experienced guard interjected politely to stay this sergeant’s mounting displeasure. His voice stopped in his tensed throat as “Sergeant” Khazmine tapped an index finger impatiently on the pommel of the dagger dangling from her belt strap.

The twin sun’s light prevented both guards from seeing the terror creeping across Khazmine’s face as she forced herself to intimidate them. It didn’t come naturally to the outcast at all, but Jaycen had advised the half-breed on his return that if this trick were going to work, she’d need to practice acting like a real Solanai. The lieutenant was initially opposed to Khazmine leaving at all, but the same pleas that turned Rida to her side convinced Jaycen to offer his guidance.

Rida and Jaycen had both tirelessly picked out a suitable disguise from the healer’s treasure trove of archaic fashion while Khazmine slept for a few hours to recover her strength. The healer had even acquired a silver wig from around ten years ago, back when it was fashionable to imitate Outsiders. They were still finalizing the disguise when Khazmine woke before dawn, and Jaycen had offered a few parting words of advice before Khazmine departed for the gates. None of their careful preparations were going to work unless she truly embodied the role.

“Don’t let anyone get to you,” Jaycen advised as he straightened the pin on her black vest. “You must treat anyone you encounter in the same fashion that they would treat an outcast. Don’t let them mock you, mistreat you, or malign the Order... You can do this…”

Jaycen’s words of wisdom filled the outcast with courage as she inhaled deeply to ready herself to challenge the guards. It was all too easy for her to imagine how these men would treat her, were their positions reversed, and Khazmine’s nose scrunched at the thought of it.

Come on, Khazmine… For Pavo…

“What are your names?” Khazmine sneered as her lip twitched into a snarl. When neither man responded quickly enough for her satisfaction, the sergeant doubled-down on her angry tantrum. “Your NAMES!”

“What’s the d*mned hold-up here?” a shrill voice called back from behind the outcast, who forced herself not to startle at the familiar, irritating mewling. “Open the ruddy gates already!”

“Our apologies, sir,” the elder guard replied as the pair scrambled to unlatch the gates for the young nobleman and his small retinue of sycophantic followers. “Blessings and virtues to you, Young Master Skelfrig.”

Khazmine’s expression soured as she hid under the brim of her black hat when the bumbling drunkard trudged through the gates. Mistaking her disgust for indignance, the elder guard gestured for the lady Solanai to enter as well.

“Please be sure to present your credentials next time you enter, ma’am,” the cowed guard added delicately, as not to upset the sergeant any further.

Having overheard the unusual request, the young master turned around to get a proper look at the fresh face entering the tediously unchanging Holloworth. A broad smile crept across his ugly mug as Lamont Skefrig delighted in seeing the pretty Outsider for the first time.

Thank you for your continued support for "Of Lowlifes, Lutes, & Liars." 

I have another series called "Apparent Secrets" launching on Tapas Premium on September 29 at 11am PST that features Khazmine after the events that take place on her home world. I hope you'll check it out!