Orfeus smiled to think of that time, of her much younger self and Bright much the same, brash and brilliant. That was back when Orfeus thought she could really get into the intricacies of Blood and its magic, instead of doing as she did now and dabbling a little in everything. “I suppose I did.” They had been competitors, yes. Orfeus had gone to her frankly, confessed that Bright was far her superior in the field, and in the same breath asked for her help.

“You did well,” Rivasoa said. Orfeus glanced at her. The taller woman didn’t look at her, only stared serenely ahead as they passed through the hallway and Orfeus led them onto the stairs that would lead outside. “That seems a trait of yours, your file says. Turning enemies into friends.”

“I suppose,” Orfeus said, a little surprised. She was braced for betrayal, but not for Rivasoa complimenting her. They went up the small flight of stairs, and out: the wind howled, up here, threatening to snatch all words and life away, but the rails were secure, the bridge covered and safe.

They passed into it, and the noise dropped down. The market would be busy, once they reached it, the centre of spokes of covered bridges, busy and bright with all the variety Farflung had to offer, including some more dubious things to trade. When Farflung was dangerous, it was blatantly dangerous, not something that snuck up on you in the middle of the night.

Rivasoa did not look at her, and said, “Then what do you turn your friends into?”

There seemed no answer to that so Orfeus made none.

Chapter Five

Singer,

Here is what I have found: The title of the Wolf belongs to the strongest or most honoured fighter, and has existed as long as the Order can be traced back, at least three hundred years. The person called Faol has held the title for the past fifteen years, by all accounts competently, by which I mean anonymous reports from clients register satisfaction and no complaints have been lodged by any of her prey she’s left alive. He has been reported using both the he and she pronoun sets at separate times, from which I infer she is possibly genderfluid.

Faol has no presence in the web and no records from before she joined the Order. There is a story of someone sighting Faol sitting placidly by the Order’s Leader’s side as only a very young child, eight or ten and already in training. As a researcher, I must deem this dubious.

In melee, Faol relies largely on her augmented strength, as well as a series of knives, a clawed hand and possibly some ranged weaponry. He is five foot five and has an unpredictable temper.

- From A Person of No Significance