Fate of the Free Lands

By Jack Campbell

Trapped inside the Empire, Captain Jules of Landfall has to use every deadly trick and strategy she knows to avoid recapture by the Emperor’s legions, and stay alive despite every attempt the Mages make to kill her. The only chance to get away may require walking back into the trap she barely escaped the first time. But even her freedom won’t be enough. The prophecy that consumes Jules’s life demands she has an heir to carry on her line. Yet how can she satisfy that while being hunted everywhere? And what might the prophecy cause to happen if she doesn’t have a child?

Battling wind, waves, implacable Mage assassins, and Imperial ships, Jules is forced to turn to an unlikely ally—the hated Mechanics. She must gather men, women, and ships from all of the new settlements to face the Imperial legionaries and galleys. For only Jules can lead the free people of the west in the final battle that could be their salvation—or the destruction of all that she’s fought for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781625675040

Jack Campbell

Jack Campbell is the pseudonym for John G. Hemry, a retired Naval officer who graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis before serving with the surface fleet and in a variety of other assignments. He is the author of The Lost Fleet military science fiction series, as well as the Beyond the Frontier continuation of The Lost Fleet, spin-off series The Lost Stars, the Stark's War series, and the Paul Sinclair/"JAG in space" series. His short fiction appears frequently in Analog magazine, and many have been collected in the three Jack Campbell ebook anthologies, Ad Astra, Borrowed Time, and Swords and Saddles. The Pillars of Reality is his first epic fantasy series. He lives with his indomitable wife and three children in Maryland.

Book preview

Chapter One

Landfall, oldest of cities, had seen many things. But never before a battle on the waterfront between Mages and one of their monsters on one side, and the Emperor’s legionaries and sailors on the other. Mages were well-known for their inhuman and arrogant actions, but even they had never launched such an attack outright. Rumor raced through the city faster than the crowds fleeing the waterfront, citizens whispering among themselves that there could have been only one possible reason why the Mages would do such a thing.

She must be in Landfall.

* * *

The cutpurse lurking in the side alley amid stacks of refuse had only a moment to realize that he’d chosen the wrong victim this time, as the woman in the hooded cloak used the folds of her garment to catch and divert the thrust of his knife. Before he could react, the woman’s dagger was plunging into his breast, piercing his heart, and ending his criminal career for good.

Jules of Landfall knelt beside the killer’s remains, going through his pockets. I might’ve spared your life, she commented to his body, except that your first thrust was a killing move. I only grant mercy to those who show mercy to others.

She found a purse containing enough money to convince Jules that she hadn’t been the man’s first victim that night. Hopefully the first one had escaped harm. The purse didn’t hold a lot of money, though; a couple of silver galleys, and several copper shields, but not a single gold eagle. However, since she hadn’t had any money on her at all before this, it represented a welcome find.

Jules pocketed the money, discarding the purse. Looking up past the aged brick walls of the buildings rising on each side of the alley, she could see the sky beginning to pale with the first rays of dawn, the growing light battling against the haze of smoke as waking households and businesses lit coal and wood for fires. On the street she could hear the slow clop of horseshoes and the rattle of wheels on the cobblestones as milk deliveries were made. A quiet, normal, peaceful morning, very different from the chaos of the night before. The rapid thud of horses being ridden fast echoed from the aged bricks. Jules faded back against the nearest wall, catching quick glimpses of Imperial cavalry as they rode past the entrance to the alley, their brightly-polished chest armor dull in the still-shadowed street, their lances pointing upward like a deadly thicket.

The cavalry was headed in the direction of the waterfront. Was the Mage troll still alive and fighting? That seemed too much to hope for. More likely, the cavalry were being called in to help search for her.

The last trooper rode past, the sound of rapid hoof beats fading. Even after all these years, the sight of legionary cavalry tore at her. Her father had served in the Emperor’s cavalry until his death while chasing bandits in the mountains known as the Northern Ramparts.

Jules shifted her gaze to the south, where she’d been raised in Landfall’s Imperial orphan home after her mother died as well during childbirth. Even if she hadn’t hated the place, with its strict rules and harsh guardians and inadequate food and clothing, she wouldn’t have considered it as a place of refuge now. It’d be hard enough to avoid being recognized elsewhere in the city. She’d left that orphan home only a few years ago, so there were plenty of officials and others there who’d know her on sight.

Jules smiled slightly, remembering how proud most of the other kids had been when she earned the chance at an Imperial officer’s commission. Were they still proud of her?

The camp outside Landfall where she’d received training to become an officer in the Imperial service lay to the east of the city. Another life, when she’d stubbornly sought the right to wear the dark red uniform of the Empire as proof that she, an orphan, was the equal of anyone. That ambition, that goal, had ceased to matter, had become impossible, when a Mage had looked at her and pronounced the prophecy that had upended her life. The day will come when a daughter of your line will unite Mechanics, Mages, and the common folk to overthrow the Great Guilds and free the world. Not a long prophecy, but long enough to act as a death sentence in the eyes of the Mages and to make her an obsession of the Emperor.

Jules looked west, to where the Sea of Bakre lay. Somewhere out there, hopefully, the pirate ship Sun Queen still sailed. But, she, the Sun Queen’s captain, couldn’t hope for help from that quarter. The crew had no idea where she was, and even if they knew couldn’t hope to fight their way through Imperial forces to reach her. They had a more important task to carry out, anyway.

For a moment, her eyes saw not the brick of the buildings lining the alley, but the limitless waters to the west. For as long as the history of the world of Dematr went back, which admittedly wasn’t very far, humanity had been confined to the eastern part of the Sea of Bakre where the Empire ruled. Every chart, every legend, described the west as a deathtrap of hidden reefs and desert shores. But she’d gone there, she’d seen the truth, she’d discovered new lands and a strait that led to another sea and then the ocean itself. The chart made on that journey had to be copied, had to be shared with as many people as possible, so that the knowledge in it could never be suppressed by the Great Guilds or the Empire.

The vision from her memory faded, leaving her once again in the trash-strewn alley. She took another glance at the sky, trying to measure the time. The throng of fearful citizens fleeing the fight on the waterfront had mostly dissipated. Merging with the crowds of workers and other citizens who should soon be populating the morning streets would be her only hope of not being quickly spotted by the legionaries and police doubtless already combing the city for her. Not to mention the Mages who’d been disappointed in their attempts to kill her last night.

Down on the waterfront, the wreck of the Imperial sloop that had brought her to Landfall had probably sunk by now after burning to the waterline. Imperial police—often corrupt, but extremely thorough when the Emperor’s eyes were on them—would be searching the wreckage to confirm that she hadn’t died while still chained in the ship’s brig. Legionaries who’d caught glimpses of her during the chaotic battle as the Mage troll smashed the ship, the pier, and anything in its way, would be undergoing interrogation to confirm they’d seen her.

That led her thoughts to something she’d been trying not to think about. Or rather, someone. Lieutenant Ian of Marandur, who’d given her the keys to escape her chains on that ship, and who might’ve been badly injured (or worse), fighting that Mage troll. Worries about the fate of her once-friend and former fellow officer tore at her. She couldn’t afford such a distraction, though, not while being hunted through this city. Jules did her best to put aside her concerns about Ian, which she told herself were after all only based on their friendship, so she could concentrate on surviving.

Because in addition to the Imperial forces hunting her, the Mages, putting together their own picture of their latest failed attempt to kill her and eliminate any chance that the prophecy would someday come to pass, would be using their mysterious skills to find her again.

How many times had she wished that she’d never walked into that tavern, found herself face to face with a Mage, and heard the prophecy spoken?

That left the Mechanics, the other Great Guild. The Mechanics would be sitting back enjoying watching the Empire and the Mages in conflict, while also trying to avoid involving their own Guild in that fight. Between them, the Mechanics and the Mages ruled the world, using the Emperor (or Empress) as their agent to control the common people, though saying such a thing outright was treason within the Empire. With the current Emperor chafing at the bonds of the Great Guilds, and the prophecy roiling a world in which change had never occurred, Jules had learned the Mechanics were willing to use her to further their own ends. But that was as far as it went. Plenty of Mechanics would be just as happy as the Mages to see her die, and some of them wouldn’t be sorry to be the ones responsible. She couldn’t hope to find safe harbor with the Mechanics here in Landfall, even if the Imperial police probably hadn’t already thrown up a cordon to keep her from reaching the Mechanics Guild Hall.

Jules jerked about as something skittered through a nearby stack of wooden pallets. A rat, of course. She was so rattled that she was starting at rats, despite having become well-acquainted with them while in the orphanage.

She leaned back against one of the buildings, slowing her breathing to calm herself. There hadn’t been time to think since she left the waterfront, all of her attention centered on looking like one more citizen fleeing the melee. Now her thoughts skittered about, trying to organize everything that had happened since Mages had attacked her ship not far from Dor’s Castle. She’d been knocked overboard during that fight, and the Imperial warship had captured her to bring her unwilling self back to the Emperor. Then—as she’d warned the captain of the Imperial ship would happen—the Mages had attacked to try to kill her when the ship reached Landfall.

Hopefully the woman she’d stolen this cloak from had been all right once she regained consciousness.

Hopefully Ian was still alive. And hopefully not under arrest for giving her the keys to unlock her manacles. It had been the only way to keep the Mages and their troll from killing her, but would the Imperial authorities give Lieutenant Ian any credit for that?

Hopefully she’d be able to figure out where to go from this alley.

Jules tried to center her thoughts. The waterfront, even if it hadn’t been the site of the recent fighting, was the most obvious place for an attempted escape. There’d be legionaries and police stationed a lance apart along the whole waterfront and every pier. She’d have no chance of getting through there.

South offered some chance of escape if she could get through the gates of the city in that direction, but the land south of Landfall was fairly flat and open, the bread basket of the Empire. It wasn’t the best terrain for someone who couldn’t afford to be seen.

North offered the best chance for finding an unguarded boat in one of the towns along the coast. But the Imperials knew that as well as she did. They’d have extra guards on the north gates of the city, and along the roads, and would be watching everything that could float between here and Sandurin.

Which left going east, but that was the last direction that Jules wanted to go. East would take her along the heavily-traveled Ospren River toward the Imperial capital at Marandur, where the Emperor sat, eager to get his hands on her for a forced marriage and equally forced production of royal heirs who could claim the legacy of the prophecy for the Imperial line.

And no matter which direction she went, she had to worry about the Mages knowing it as soon or sooner than she herself did, and laying another ambush for her.

What do I do, Mak? Jules often missed the man who’d become a second father to her, but she felt it especially now, trapped within a city full of enemies. What would Mak suggest?

He’d always said the best way to fool people was to show them what they expected to see. So, what did the Imperials expect her to do? Try for the waterfront, of course. If not that, try to go north, or maybe south if north looked too risky.

The one direction they wouldn’t expect her to go was east. Because east was the last direction she should want to go. East was where the Imperials had planned on taking her in chains.

She knew the east gates of the city, though. She’d even stood guard at one of those gates while in her early training.

Jules took another glance upward, seeing the sky a bit brighter. By craning her head slightly, she could see a growing number of people walking past the alley where she was hiding. Was it enough? The longer she waited, the more Imperial police and legionaries would be on the streets searching for her and putting up checkpoints to screen everyone going past.

Jules settled the cloak about her, gathering together the part where the thief’s knife had cut the fabric so it wouldn’t be noticeable and ensuring the hood was settled to block a view of her face except from close in front. Walking to the street, she stepped out onto it as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Aside from passing side-glances from those who saw her leave the alley, no one appeared to take notice. Jules went down the street, wondering how long she’d be able to keep the cloak on and the hood up as the day warmed before people would start to notice.

A waft of delicious scent took her thoughts in another direction, reminded her that the last time she’d eaten had been a long time before, and that she’d had nothing but bread and water while a prisoner of the Imperial sloop. A quick look around identified the source of the smell, a food cart selling hot breakfast pastries.

Buying anything would require some interaction and the chance of discovery, but if she didn’t get something to eat and drink her body wouldn’t keep going. Jules altered her path to reach the cart, waiting impatiently until she reached the front of the line of customers.

Three, Jules mumbled in a deliberately hoarse voice, grateful that for once what the wanted posters called her ‘lower class Landfall accent’ would help her blend in. And a flask of sang.

The young girl serving the customers didn’t take any special notice of Jules, passing over three hot pastries that Jules slid into a pocket of the cloak, and a flask of the wine, water, and fruit pulp called sang. Knowing she’d have to return the flask when she was done with it, Jules took the risk of staying by the cart. Hastily eating one of the pastries containing a common Landfall recipe combining pork and apples, she washed it down with gulps of the sang.

Three Mechanics, two men and a woman all wearing the unmistakable dark jackets, walked past the food cart. One of the men reached out and snagged a pastry, making no move to pay for it. The owner of the cart glared at the backs of the Mechanics as they swaggered away, but knew better than to object. Mechanics did what they wanted, and common people endured it because they had no other choice.

Jules’ gaze lingered on the Mechanics as they walked off. One of the men had a weapon at his waist, the one Mechanics called a revolver that no sword or crossbow used by common folk could match. The Mechanics Guild had loaned a revolver like that to Jules in the hopes that she’d kill Mages with it, but the last she’d seen of that revolver it had been lying on the deck of her ship after being knocked from her grasp. What if she had that weapon now? But there had only been one or two cartridges left in it, and using the revolver would make a noise so loud every legionary and Mage within earshot would come running for her. A dagger was the safer option for someone trying not to be noticed.

Seeing a Mechanic openly armed was unusual. Were the Mechanics in Landfall worried about Mage attacks? Surely, despite what Jules had overheard Mechanics say to each other, they weren’t concerned about the Imperials turning on them. That would be unheard of, and incredibly dangerous for the Empire. No common person knew how the mysterious technology of the Mechanics worked—though everyone knew trying to learn those secrets would result in death at the hands of the Mechanics—and no common person knew everything the Mechanic devices could do.

The other patrons of the food cart waited until the Mechanics were far enough off that they couldn’t overhear before resuming gossiping among themselves as they wolfed down food before heading to work. Already on her way to Marandur, one man said confidently. I’ve got a cousin in the legions. He said they got her away from the Mages and she’ll be with the Emperor soon.

Then why are the police and the legions still ransacking the city? another man demanded.

Maybe they’re looking for those Mages that attacked the Emperor’s soldiers!

They’re looking for the girl, a woman chimed in. My brother is with the police. Find the girl of the prophecy. That’s their orders.

Why wouldn’t she turn herself in? the first man asked.

Maybe the Mages were able to do something even though they couldn’t kill her, the woman suggested. Take over her mind. Mages can do that.

Why not just kill her? the second man said.

Are you asking me why Mages are doing one thing and not another? the woman demanded. Nobody knows how they think.

Jules, resisting the urge to ask all three why it didn’t occur to them that the girl might not want to end up in the hands (and the bed) of the Emperor, drained the flask and pushed off into the morning crowds. At least she’d learned that the police were definitely searching for her.

Holding a second pastry next to her mouth as if nibbling it as she walked, which served to hide the lower half of her face under the hood , Jules took a wide main street heading east. A secondary street might have been less likely to be watched, but the crowds were bigger here and easier to get lost in.

Wagons, coaches, and carts traveled both ways down the center of the street, the horses pulling them looking resigned to their fate as they ignored most of the people walking past. An occasional carriage bearing a high-ranking Imperial official or rich merchant stood out due to the high-stepping pair of horses drawing it. Chickens and pigs in cages on some of the carts and wagons eyed the people in the street, unaware that they were headed for a butcher shop and eventually the kitchens of some of those people. People called to each other in the Landfall accent that Jules had grown up hearing. The air held the mingled scents of manure, massed humanity, sweaty horses, burning coal and wood, and the occasional waft of food cooking. It was all enough to make Jules a bit homesick for the city even though she’d never wanted to return here.

Any growing feelings of being home vanished as a wagon carrying Imperial police rattled through the crowds, bypassing the other horse-drawn conveyances, the people on foot scattering to make way. Because that was part of the bargain that Imperial citizens had to live with regardless of whether or not they liked it: the Empire gave them stability and rules and security, and in return the citizens were expected to follow all the rules and do as they were told.

She’d gone three long blocks east before Jules spotted legionary armor ahead and the dark red of an Imperial officer’s uniform. Looking through the crowd, she saw the legionaries moving portable barriers into place to establish a checkpoint. Citizens were already obediently forming into a wide queue to pass through, knowing that trying to avoid the checkpoint would attract attention from the Imperial soldiers.

Jules glanced around, seeing that the side roads were also being blocked off. The legions were efficient in all they did.

I’m not trapped yet. Stay calm and think. She paused as if reading a sign in the window of a business, trying to decide whether she could hide inside one of the nearby buildings until the checkpoint was moved.

Maybe she could still unobtrusively start walking the other way.

But when Jules turned about she saw four Mages coming down the street, easy to spot not only because of their distinctive robes, but because of the wide, empty area around them as every common person tried to avoid getting too close to or in the way of the Mages.

As the old saying went, she was trapped between a brick wall and a bull.

Did the Mages already know she was on this street, or were they looking for her? Jules saw the Mages paying an unusual amount of attention to the people around them, making those people extremely nervous. It was a search then. They hadn’t spotted her yet.

Jules took another look at the checkpoint in the other direction, seeing the orderly queue formed by the citizens moving forward at a snail’s pace. She’d never get past that checkpoint undetected by the legionaries.

Unless the legionaries had something else to worry about. Something big.

Maybe the best way out of this was to let the Mages see her.

Knowing her chances were dwindling by the moment, Jules turned to fully face the oncoming Mages, who were still a ways down the street. Partly lowering the hood of her cloak, she looked directly at the Mages.

No common ever looked straight at a Mage. No common wanted the attention that might attract from a Mage.

The Mages noticed, two of them pausing to look back at Jules across the distance separating them.

She didn’t think the Mages could recognize her from this far away, but had learned that Mages could somehow tell she was the woman of the prophecy just by laying eyes on her. Some Mages could do that, anyway.

And at least one of these Mages must have had that ability, because all four suddenly began moving fast, running toward Jules as frantic citizens scattered out of their path.

Hoping she hadn’t just doomed herself, Jules turned and bolted toward the Imperial checkpoint, weaving through the thickening crowd so that the Mages could no longer see her. If a Mage can see you, a Mage can kill you, the old warning went. She didn’t have to make it any easier for them by staying in sight.

Ducking under the noses of a pair of horses who snorted in surprise, their heads snapping up to search for danger, Jules shoved her way forward, drawing angry comments from those waiting stoically to get through the checkpoint. With the crowd thickening, forcing her way through was getting harder.

Shouts of alarm sounded behind her, warning that the Mages had reached the rear of the crowd. The shouts changed to screams as the Mages pulled out their long knives and began hacking at anyone in their way. The crowd convulsed like a single creature, waves of fear rolling through it, those closest to the checkpoint looking back to try to see the source of the screams.

Mages! Jules cried, pitching her voice high like someone badly frightened. They’re killing everyone!

The front of the crowd wavered, caught between fear of the Mages and Imperial rules.

Jules saw a couple of legionaries climbing up onto the wagon they’d come in, crossbows tensioned and at the ready, trying to get a view of what was happening at the back of the crowd.

One of the legionaries made the mistake of pointing his crossbow in the general direction of the Mages.

Lightning ripped through the air above the crowd, accompanied by the deafening boom of thunder. The legionary’s crossbow exploded into splinters as the lightning hit it, knocking the legionary back off the wagon.

Jules only had a moment to wonder if the Mage who’d sent that lightning was the same one who’d tried to kill her off the Bleak Coast. An instant later the entire crowd went from uncertain and fearful to erupting into wild panic.

Clamoring in fear, the crowd rushed the checkpoint, overwhelming the portable barricades and ignoring the swords the legionaries drew to try to intimidate them. Jules stayed with them as the mob of citizens stampeded down the street, swamping the legionaries and their officer as she tried to call out orders. Horses squealed in fear, bolting forward and plowing paths through the people ahead of them. The barricades blocking the nearest side streets vanished under the tide of fleeing men, women, and draft animals, Jules picking one of those side streets and trying to stay with the crowd. She felt as she were caught in a rushing river of humanity, the current of frightened bodies too powerful for the efforts of one person to fight.

Working her way to the edge of the crowd, Jules managed to duck into another street, feeling the pressure around her lessen as fewer people surrounded her. Most of those on the street were still running, so Jules dodged again into the next street over, slowing her pace to a fast walk. The buildings around her blocked a lot of noise, but she could hear legionary horns sounding streets away as the alert spread, an alarm bell being rung, and the rapid clacking of Imperial police rapping out coded messages to each other by striking the cobblestones with their hardwood clubs. Under all of those distinct sounds continued the indistinct rumble of frightened crowds shouting and running.

Realizing that she’d lost her sense of which direction she was going, Jules ducked into an alley to catch her breath and orient herself. Just inside the alley was a small pile of bricks against one wall where someone was repairing it, so she stopped beside the bricks.

She’d only taken two deep breaths when a Mage turned the corner and was upon her in an instant, the Mage’s long knife sweeping toward her.

Chapter Two

Just about every common facing a Mage, including Jules herself not so long ago, would’ve been at least momentarily paralyzed with fear. Just about every common would’ve died. But Jules had confronted enough Mages by now to not succumb to the fear.

Pulling out her dagger and bringing it up in a frantic parry, Jules managed to partially divert the Mage’s strike. But the tip of the long knife sliced into her upper arm, the force of the blow knocking the dagger from Jules’ grasp.

Her free hand already coming up, Jules’ fist slammed into the Mage’s face.

As her attacker staggered back, Jules bent enough to grab a brick.

The Mage lunged forward again, knife raised for another blow.

Instead of flinching away, Jules ducked inside the attack, swinging the brick she held against the Mage’s head.

The impact slammed the other’s head back to strike the nearby wall, the thud of the brick hitting followed almost immediately by the thunk of the second impact. The Mage fell like a rag doll, dropping into a limp heap on the floor of the alley.

Her breath coming fast and harsh, Jules eyed the Mage warily for a moment to be sure the Mage was unconscious. Pausing only to pick up her dagger, Jules quickly stepped out onto the street, searching for any other Mage that might have followed her.

Despite her fears, no other Mages were in sight among the laggard citizens fleeing the earlier fight. Stepping back into the alley and dropping the brick, Jules checked her injury, seeing that the Mage knife had torn a wide slash in Jules’ cloak. The cut in her arm wasn’t too deep, fortunately, but it was bleeding badly.

Jules picked up her dagger and ripped a length of fabric off the cloak, wrapping it around her upper arm where the cut was, using her teeth and one hand to manage a knot. Having done all she could to stop the bleeding, Jules glared at the Mage, her dagger at the ready.

But after killing this one, what chance did she have of getting out of this city now that the cloak was torn and slashed? Its ragged state would attract more attention than her not wearing it, and there wasn’t anything else she could use to disguise her appearance.

Except…

Jules looked down at the Mage, wondering if she dared do what she’d thought of. No one disguised themselves as a Mage. Aside from no one wanting to be shunned as Mages were, the danger of what the Mages would do if someone was caught pretending to be one of them was sufficient to keep anyone from even thinking of doing that.

But every Mage already wanted to kill her. And so far they hadn’t done any of the other things to her that rumor claimed Mage spells could do, from making parts of her disappear to changing her into a small animal or insect. Or taking over her mind, for that matter.

She fought down a shudder of revulsion as she pulled off the Mage’s robes. They stank, because most Mages never seemed to bathe, so that Jules felt ill at the idea of wearing them. But avoiding being killed, or captured and put into chains again, was more than enough motivation to override her squeamishness.

Jules turned back to the Mage, knowing that every living Mage was one more person trying to kill her. She hated killing a helpless opponent, but such scruples were an unaffordable luxury at the moment.

But her hand holding the dagger didn’t move as Jules stared at the Mage. With her robes pulled off, the Mage was revealed as a young woman, perhaps within a few years of Jules’s own age. Senseless from the blows to her head, the Mage had lost the carefully maintained lack of feeling or expression that made common people tremble at the sight of what they called dead faces on living Mages. Instead, the Mage’s loose features resembled that of any other girl her age lost in sleep. Except that with the robe removed Jules could see the myriad of scars on the Mage’s face and body, scars that every Mage seemed to share in permanent record of whatever brutal treatment changed them into Mages.

Jules knew she could, reluctantly, kill an unconscious Mage. But she couldn’t kill an unconscious young woman with marks of abuse all over her.

Growling in frustration, Jules knelt by the Mage, whose long hair had apparently rarely been cut. It was a tangled mess, but Jules got some long bundles of hair sorted out and cut them loose to use as rope, binding the Mage’s hands and feet. Hair didn’t take to knots nearly as well as rope did, but Jules tightened the knots enough that hopefully they’d hold.

Jules pulled on the robes she’d just stolen over the remains of the cloak