Interlude – Burning Alcohol (1/2)

It was another day. One where Erin didn’t have anything planned while waking up.

No—to rephrase that, she didn’t have anyone else telling her what they needed done. No Grimalkin and his weights, no playdates with Mrsha at the inn. Nothing new, save for what Erin herself took on.

Normally, Erin treasured those days. They were rare in The Wandering Inn. And yes, some days Erin Solstice, insane Human, [Innkeeper] of the infamously famous inn, friend to Goblins, purveyor of strange events and her own kind of magic…sometimes she was tired.

It had been an interesting week. And they were all interesting weeks. The only times Erin really remembered nothing happening in the inn was every time something so large had happened that everything was background noise. Static.

Like the battle against Reiss, the Goblin Lord. The silence after Skinner had attacked. The days following Ulrien and Brunkr’s deaths.

The inn only really grew silent when something bad had happened. But Erin also remembered the feeling after the Horns of Hammerad had returned, victorious. There had been sadness, then. But triumph.

Until Toren, that was. It was true that the inn had a reputation. For great tragedy and great joy. But Erin felt like there was as much victory as loss.

Still, she recalled something. A brief two weeks where nothing had happened. A little camp, a ‘wilderness adventure’ which was really as dangerous and dramatic as camping in a curated safe zone. But it had been fun. Relaxing. She had needed it.

It already felt like a long time ago, but it had only been…a month ago? Something like that. And yet, Erin remembered waking up and fishing, or wandering around the camp. Taking out the portable chess set she’d brought, or staring at the sky.

She’d been terribly sad, then. But the two weeks had helped. And Erin had done a lot of thinking. She hadn’t enjoyed it as much as needed it. And if she had a choice—no. Erin wouldn’t do it like that again.

For one thing, Erin had a family. Mrsha, Lyonette, Numbtongue, Bird. She had left them behind because she’d needed to. But if Erin could do it again, she’d have brought Mrsha and Lyonette with her at least. Bird and Numbtongue would have been hard to smuggle into that campsite. But if Erin could take them to a theoretical campsite…

Erin Solstice lay in her Garden of Sanctuary and stared up at the sky, through the domed roof. And she felt the same feeling as before. But—different. Because she was all too aware this was a reprieve. She’d woken up near dawn, as always. It was a habit. And soon, Numbtongue would be here, scavenging his breakfast from the premade meals. Or Bird would appear, or Mrsha would rush down the stairs or use the Garden as a shortcut.

If Erin stayed here, she wouldn’t have her quiet days like at the campsite with Pallass Hunting. And in a way, that was what she craved.

Quiet times. Solitude. It might amaze anyone who had met Erin, but she enjoyed being alone as much as other people. Before coming to this world, she had sat in front of a chess board and practiced her game. Studied chess in solitude.

Erin Solstice had learned she was good at being social. She had learned who she was, and that she had other talents. Like fighting. Like her own brand of innkeeping, her special magic. But on a quiet day like this, where no one was supposed to ask her anything, part of Erin Solstice would have loved to do nothing more than lie on her back and stare at the sky for hours.

The [Innkeeper] felt tired today. She couldn’t have said why. Poor sleep, perhaps. It had been busy. And she’d pulled a muscle trying to do some lifts with Grimalkin and the others. He’d told her to tough it out. Erin wanted to wimp out with a healing potion, but she hadn’t bothered after the Antinium had come and Erin had fed them all and cried and given out hugs and chocolate…

Busy days. She’d gotten, what, five hours of sleep? Erin yawned. She’d love nothing more than to go to bed, but she was programmed to wake up at dawn from the first days in the inn. She could just close her eyes…

Scampering feet. Mrsha appeared through a door and Erin heard Lyonette’s scolding voice.

“Mrsha, you can use the stairs. You don’t have to use that door to take a shortcut for—”

Erin saw the White Gnoll race into the garden, circle once as Lyonette stepped through, and then leap back as the door showed the kitchen. She hadn’t noticed Erin lying in the meadow.

The [Innkeeper] paused. In theory, she wasn’t needed for breakfast. Lyonette was perfectly capable of rousing the inn’s staff as they arrived, serving guests, and handling a lot by herself. In fact, Erin thought she might be crowding the [Princess]. She could just lie here, resting, until Wailant came to plant the last of the grass.

And yet. The [Innkeeper] slowly rose, groaning. Her bed of grass and little flowers was so wonderful. There were no bugs in the Garden, no little ants to crawl onto your face and remind you that nature was always present. It was the perfect spot to relax, and Erin had seen Mrsha snoozing on Numbtongue’s chest as the two napped in the sun. Even when it rained and rain poured through the opening in the dome, it was a beautiful sight. Safety.

But still, Erin Solstice got up. She would have loved to take a break. No one was demanding anything. But she had things to do.

A new feeling. Erin generally reacted to things coming at her. Monster? Pan to the face. Strange guest? Investigate. Important moment? Improvise. She did not initiate that much. But—as any good chess player would tell you, you had to plan ahead, be proactive.

The young woman hated doing it. She knew there were things to be done, and she did not want to do any of them. A few of the things had names.

Palt, Klbkch, also, finances, learning to cook with Lasica, making magical food, improving the inn, Wailant, putting money aside for taxation, suspicious Grimalkin…Erin felt exhausted just thinking of it all. And she hated it.

She didn’t like economics, or politics—Erin’s definition of that being any kind of deals, like she had with the Ullsinoi faction—or problems where you had to make a decision that might and definitely would bite you in the butt if you made the wrong choice. Or even the right one.

Erin liked chess, where you could be intense and competitive, but at the end of the day, no one died or got hurt for your mistakes. Life should not be about hard choices.

But sometimes it was. And Erin, rightly or wrongly, conflated adulthood with confronting those hard decisions. With making mistakes but choosing rather than letting other people and life choose for you. She was facing it today. Not because she’d suddenly received an influx of strength; she was run down, even with her [Lesser Endurance] Skill that let her push her limits.

No, it was because of yesterday. Yesterday, where she’d seen…Bird.

Her lovely Antinium child, her [Hunter]. Erin had seen Bird speaking to the Antinium. Leading them, rejecting his Hive and showing them his way. All on his own.

Bird, who had rediscovered childhood, being silly, learning how to cry. If he could do that, then Erin was embarrassed not to try. So she walked into her kitchen.

“Morning, Lyonette.”

The [Princess] stared at Erin as the [Innkeeper] found a bowl of grains and poured milk into it. Cereal. Sometimes you needed a basic food.

“Good morning. You have grass in your hair, Erin.”

“Grass beds are the best beds. Prove me wrong.”

Mrsha grinned. She stood on the high stool and gave Erin a hug. The [Innkeeper] smiled. She ate her cereal. And began doing the hard things.

—-

“…five hundred and fifty, five hundred and seventy five, six hundred.”

Erin counted the gold onto the table. The stacks of gold coins shone in the morning light. Wailant stared. He looked at Erin. So did his wife, raising her brows over her morning drink. And yes, it was wine. The Stronghearts were weird like that.

They were not in The Wandering Inn. They were in fact, in the Strongheart farmhouse. Erin had visited. She had not kicked in the door, or been invited. She had politely gone through the door, knocked at a reasonable hour in the morning, and asked if Wailant could spare her a moment of his time.

Numbtongue had not been involved. Nor had some calamity of great fortune or misfortune impelled Erin to this spot. Again, she’d walked. It had taken about two minutes, since Erin had had to wait for a crowd coming through from Esthelm; they were beginning to fill the Celum regulars’ spots. Speaking of which, Erin had gotten a lot of sad messages from people who were really, genuinely upset their favorite inn had gone. She had added it to her list.

Back to Wailant. The former [Pirate] looked at the neat clusters of twenty-five Erin had counted out. He blinked at Erin.

“That’s an awfully timely payment, Miss Solstice.”

“Well, I thought that since I already paid the advance, I should do the rest without having it hang over my head, right? And I have the money. Can I assume that’s everything?”

Wailant exchanged a glance with his wife. She nodded.

“Yes, Miss Solstice. Would you like us to clear the contract between us?”

She meant destroy the magically binding agreement that Erin had signed. Erin nodded.

“That’d be great, thanks. I mean, if you have time.”

She smiled slightly at Viceria. The [Green Mage] nodded her head towards the back rooms.

“I’ll go get it. One moment.”

“I wasn’t going to hold your feet over a barrel of biter eels, Miss Solstice. I don’t know what you thought or heard, but that was just a sensible formality. You had all the time to pay this. My girl likes your inn. It’s not bad in my books myself. If this is because of my class or personality—”

The [Farmer] protested, looking a bit upset. Erin shook her head. She smiled, in a way that made Wailant relax. Mostly because it was genuine.

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure I got it done. You know? Get ahead of myself.”

Wailant nodded slowly. He eyed the gold coins, and then swept them into a bag of holding.

“Mind if I ask how you got it so quick? Your [Head Barmaid] or whatever, Lyon, said it might take a while.”

Erin had forgotten Lyonette was using ‘Lyon’ as a slight attempt to mask her identity. She laughed a bit, remembering a certain jerk who’d bothered her by using the nickname.

“Actually, we took the money from the Halfseekers. Which is why I’m sending a chocolate cake with a heart drawn in jam through to Maughin. He can surprise Jelaqua with it. Ulinde, Moore, and Seborn will get some specialty food too, when they get back from their thing with the locusts. Just a thank-you.”

“Oh? Well, well! That Drowned Man’s fairly generous with his friends.”

“Well, I think he thinks he owes me. So we’re square. At least, I think so.”

The young woman shrugged and didn’t elaborate. She’d taken the gold, and Erin was trying not to feel guilty about it. As Seborn had said—they owed the gold to Numbtongue, if not Erin as they’d claimed. And she needed it, and…

“And here we are, Erin. The contract. Let me simply sign here and…it’s merely paper. You can dispose of it however you wish.”

“Thanks.”

Erin waited as Viceria signed the roll of vellum that looked very official and document-like—it was actually sold by Wistram, another thing the academy provided to the world for situations like these. She took it and tucked it into her belt.

“I should buy a bag of holding, I really should.”

“Huh. You still don’t have one?”

“You know, finances…I’m actually going to make it a priority.”

Wailant stopped cutting up his breakfast and got up.

“Let me check my chest. One moment.”

Erin waited. Viceria offered her a second breakfast of fresh eggs, straight from some rather large chickens. Literally, three times as large as a regular chicken. Mean suckers too, or so Garia claimed. Genetically-modified animals had nothing on what magic could do to wildlife in this world.

Erin politely declined and Wailant came back with an old little purse with a drawstring on it. The cloth was burnt in one place, although not holey. He offered it to Erin.

“This is an old one. We offered it to Garia, but she wanted to make her own mark in the world. Holds about five pounds of weight, or—hm. A box this large. If you’d like it, take it.”

He indicated a very small container, just bigger than Erin’s head. She blinked at him.

“Really?”

“Aw, you’ve done me some good business. No use to me; I got mine custom. But for little things, free of charge. Go on.”

Erin took the bag of holding.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

“Go on. Won’t you stay for breakfast? We’ve got these large eggs. Courtesy of our Bullhens. Large suckers—bought ‘em from a [Rancher] who has the best damn eggs this side of the High Passes.”

“Maybe later. I just ate. But I’ll buy some of your eggs for later.”

“Take a basket. We have more than we eat with the runes of preservation.”

Erin ended up with a bag of holding and a basket of about a dozen of the huge eggs. She thanked Viceria and Wailant. And then she went back to the inn.

“What is this?”

“Eggs. Eggses. You want?”

Erin showed Lyonette the basket. The [Princess]’ eyes widened. And Mrsha sat up from her breakfast of suddenly substandard, subpar eggs.

“I—well, Viceria and Wailant gave them to you? We’ll have to give them something in return. Mrsha, do you want special eggs for breakfast? Don’t finish your plate, if you do, dear.”

Mrsha instantly pushed back her plate and nodded rapidly. Erin saw a Drake having breakfast turn around instantly.

“Me too! I want them sunny-side up! On toast! No, wait—wait—toast and a slice of smoked bacon. Thick!”

Relc waved a claw. Erin saw him staring at the huge eggs. Lyonette sighed.

“One perfect breakfast coming up.”

She went into the kitchen and Erin followed her, just to watch Lyonette expertly roast the huge eggs until they were crispy but not overdone, slide them onto some beautifully golden toast, and fat bacon.

Mrsha stared at her big egg and drooled over it. Relc lifted his toast, crying softly.

“This is why I come here. Erin, you’re the best. Can I have another egg if I pay for it?”

“Sure. What, just the egg?”

“No. Can I get it…softboiled? Hear me out. Give me a soft egg, with a gooey center, and some salt and pepper in a tiny packet. Then I can break it open during my lunch and eat it.”

The Drake was salivating at the thought. He also looked rather…content. Erin eyed him.

“Fun night last night?”

The Drake choked on his breakfast. Erin waved a hand.

“I’m not prying. Or judging.”

The Senior Guardsman stared at Erin warily for a moment. Then he nodded.

“Well—yeah. You could say that. I mean, it’s just a natural thing—”

“Totally.”

Relc eyed Erin, clearly waiting for the catch. But Erin was focusing. She paused as Relc relaxed again.

“I’ll get you the egg. You want two?”

“T-three? So I can brag and then share one with the guys. Or Beilmark, I dunno. Senior Guard pairings are all over the place this week.”

“Sure. Lyonette? Price me three eggs! And can I get a pan with water so I can boil ‘em?”

“Got it.”

Lyonette left the boiling to Erin since she’d used her [Flawless Attempt] for the moment. Relc rubbed his hands together.

“You’re the best, Erin. Have I said that recently?”

“Go on. Actually, I was hoping you could take a message for me. You’re on duty, right?”

“In…three hours.”

Relc craned his neck, staring out the window. Erin nodded.

“Perfect. Then—could you tell Klbkch I’d like to have a talk when he’s on duty next?”

Relc halted and frowned suddenly.

“Klb? Huh. Might be tricky.”

The young woman had feared that might be the case. She looked at Relc.

“Why’s that?”

The Drake frowned, and, abruptly, lost his appetite. He ate more slowly as he spoke around his mouthful.

“Klb’s investigating uh, a criminal in Liscor, Erin. There was a bad situation with two of our Senior Guards. Watch Captain Z’s literally spitting fire and Klb and some of our smart Senior guards are investigating.”

Erin hadn’t heard of this. But then, she really hadn’t spent much time in Liscor even after coming back from the inn. She leaned over.

“What happened?”

The Drake glanced surreptitiously at Mrsha. He motioned Erin over and spoke in a normal tone of voice. Interestingly, that was how you avoided accidental eavesdropping; Gnolls were more likely to pick up on a sudden whisper in a conversation rather than a normal flow of words.

“Two of the newest Senior Guards who were following this Gnoll—some big shot named Bearclaw? They got…”

Relc drew a finger across his throat. Erin stared.

“Really? Someone called Bearclaw…is Klbkch alright?”

“Oh, sure. You think they got him? He’d probably have gotten Bearclaw first if she tried, even if she’d jumped him with a gang. But the two others were…new. We haven’t found the bodies. Klb’s one of the people investigating.”

The young woman absorbed it all. She’d had no idea.

“Not you, Relc?”

The Drake gave Erin a sidelong grin.

“That’s right. Klb’s been busy on her case. Not me. I’m not subtle enough. But when we drag her in, I’m gonna be there. I’ll probably see him tomorrow, though. What do you want me to say? He’s sort of in a bad mood, though. Has been all week since the Bird thing.”

He might not have actually heard about the events last night, then. Erin felt her stomach twist, but she just nodded. All the more reason to ask.

“Well, when you see him next, can you tell him I’d like to chat?”

“Sure. About what?”

“…Things.”

The Senior Guardsman gave Erin a knowing look, but he just nodded as he reached for his glass of blue-fruit juice.

“Sure thing. I’ll tell him. Oh—and when you make all three eggs, can you write something on the third one? Like ‘you’re an idiot?’ So I can hand it to Beilmark or whoever I’m partnered with and then they see it and—”

Erin stared at Relc.

“Don’t push your luck, buddy.”

—-

After the morning lunch rush abated and Relc walked off with three of the eggs, Erin looked around and called out.

“Mrsha, can you come over here?”

The Gnoll cub obediently trotted over from where she was playing with her crimson, magical rolling ball. She looked up at Erin as the door to the Garden of Sanctuary appeared.

“I just want to show you something real quick, Mrsha. Through here.”

Erin opened the door. She led Mrsha through the door. And right next to the doorway, was the arid section of the Garden of Sanctuary. Erin could make the door open anywhere around the dome and the entrance/exit anywhere in her inn.

In the long, yellow grass, under the shade of the acacia tree was a little box, buried in the soil. But not covered. It had a simple lid, and there was a smaller, tiny little box next to it. That one was made of metal, and the latch was secured. Erin saw Mrsha blink at both camouflaged objects.

“This isn’t the vault. But I wanted you to know it’s here. This is the emergency stash, okay?”

Mrsha nodded as Erin bent and opened both chests.

“An invisibility potion, a speed potion, healing potions, tripvine bags—these ones explode. See how the crate is secured? Do not play games. Understand? Never. Play. Games. And don’t use them! They’re only for emergencies. Let someone else use them, but if you get hurt or…”

Erin trailed off. She didn’t need to tell Mrsha what might happen. The Gnoll looked up at Erin. The young woman gave her a reassuring hug.

“Just stay in the Garden, okay, Mrsha? Even if it looks bad. We can take care of ourselves, but we have to know you’re safe. This is only for emergencies. But better to be prepared, right?”

Right.

The little Gnoll signed back. Erin didn’t know what had happened yesterday—Mrsha had vanished with Bird—but she’d been rather chastened since. Erin suspected, but she decided not to ask. Bird had told her he’d made a terrible mistake. And Erin had talked with him.

That was that. And this was that. Erin let Mrsha scamper back into her inn after their little talk. It was enough that Mrsha knew it was there.

Contingencies.

—-

Erin relaxed in her room and played the magical chess game with her partner. She had a little chat; nothing consequential this time. Her opponent was apparently ‘brd’ and ‘hv mch wrk’ today. Erin could sympathize.

“Okay, next?”

The young woman stood up. She didn’t like this part. It felt like leaning too much into the paranoid…dark thoughts. But she had a definite reason to be worried. So she took a breath.

“Okay, one, two, three…”

She began counting as she took the kitchen knife from her belt. The gleaming edge that Pelt had forged, and Lorent further refined, gleamed. Erin turned.

“Door.”

The door to the Garden of Sanctuary was open and she stepped through. Then turned—

“Door.”

The door was open again. But it was not connected to her room. Erin walked through into the kitchen and saw a figure. She’d known who it was before she even saw him.

Palt was making crepes; he really was taken with Erin’s cooking and adding stuff like a bit of drizzled chocolate and whipped cream was a treat. Of course, he was also a huge fan of his Balerosian dishes—Erin had to admit his curry was actually tasty, unlike the curry she’d made to attack the [Mages].

Six seconds. And Erin had known where Palt was, even appeared right behind him in the kitchen along an empty wall. She stood there silently as Palt turned, and stowed her knife.

The Centaur was humming to himself as he flipped a crepe. He turned, spotted her, shouted.

“Aah! Erin, don’t do that to me! Mrsha’s bad enough with that damn Garden! I don’t need two [Panic] spells on my tail!”

The [Illusionist] clutched at his chest. For someone in the Ullsinoi faction and a huge horse-man, he was very sensitive to scares. Mrsha loved Palt for that reason, although Erin had told her not to get near his hooves.

But then, Centaurs were apparently prone to frights, like horses. And Erin supposed being around a faction of Wistram’s worst tricksters and pranksters did things to your psyche. She waved at him, smiling.

“What? I walked in ages ago. You didn’t hear me. Nice crepes.”

“What? Oh—well, I get absorbed in my cooking. Thank you. One of your guests ordered it, and I decided to make some for myself. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

Palt blushed. Erin waved an airy hand.

“What? Sure! Like I said, thanks for helping out. Uh, I think your crepes are burning.”

“Horseflies!”

Well, that worked.

“Fire, next.”

Erin mumbled to herself as Palt salvaged his crepes. The Centaur turned, sucking on a burned finger.

“Excuse me?”

“I think that stove’s a bit hot. It’s still running on fire; I should really pay for those heating runes.”

She gave him a cheerful smile. The Centaur nodded.

“True, but that’s no excuse on my side. Speaking of which, I know you’re extremely busy, but if I could borrow you for just a minute, Erin?”

He looked ready to plead, but Erin nodded. She had been expecting this too.

“Sure thing.”

The Centaur looked surprised, but he trotted into the common room hurriedly after Erin.

“Maybe in a private room? It is about the sensitive issues.”

“Right.”

—-

The Centaur ate from his slightly burned crepes in one of the private rooms. Well, the last one left; the other two were now in Octavia’s storage and the lifting room. There was a neat little table in here and chairs, and Erin waited as he tapped his fingers together.

“Well, Erin. About yesterday. I uh, know you don’t like these questions, but the Elusive Lot got wind of the broadcast Magus Grimalkin put out. I know, I know, spying, but it’s an open secret with these kind of things. Er, and since it doesn’t seem to be a huge imposition and you’ve told Magus Grimalkin—”

“You want to know about the weight training.”

Palt paused.

“We’d like to compensate you. Obviously, I don’t have anything planned, but as I said, we’re making this an exchange, Erin. And favor’s the real currency with a lot of these—”

“Fine.”

Erin pretended to sigh, but only mildly. She eyed Palt as he paused.

“You’ll do it?”

“Yep. Okay, you win. Lifting. I’ll give you the details. But it’s just…I dunno, muscle stuff. Does your faction really want that?”

Palt gave Erin a long look.

“Erin, you heard Magus Grimalkin. This is valuable information. Yes, absolutely. Anything you can tell us specifically about it we’ll take, even if it’s already being disseminated.”

Fair enough. Erin had, in fact, already done the calculation of risks in telling Palt. And she’d concluded that if none of the Earthers in Wistram Academy knew more than she did about strength training, it would be a strange thing indeed. So she nodded.

“Sure. It might take a while since I’m not an expert…and I never really did it, but let me tell you everything. Which you’re not going to tell anyone but the Elusive Lot, right?”

“Lips sealed. If it gets out, it’s through them, but I’m not mentioning anything to Magus Grimalkin.”

Palt instantly nodded, tracing a line across his face that shimmered in the air. Erin scratched at her head.

“Okay. Aside from what Grimalkin told you, let me tell you about…protein shakes. Which are the most disgusting things in the world. Also—eating raw eggs. Um…punching bags. Hydration?”

The Centaur had produced a series of notes and he was transcribing with a magical quill that seemed to be recording Erin’s words automatically as he added notes. He looked up.

“I think I know hydration. But go on.”

“You drink water to live. No water is bad for the muscles and brain and stuff.”

“…Yes. I think we have that.”

“Also, if you drink too much water you’ll die.”

The [Illusionist] paused, a second quill in hand.

“Say what now?”

—-

Half an hour of questions and answers later, Erin felt more tired than this morning. And she’d just gotten started. But she was knocking things off her list left and right. Serious Erin needed coffee, or something stronger than tea, but she got work done.

Of course, Erin was still winging her order of events. And as it happened, one of the items on her list decided to bump itself up on the queue. Erin saw a duo sitting at one of her tables, and sighed.

“Uh oh. They’re back again.”

Palt peered over Erin’s shoulder and spotted Beza and Montressa. The two [Mages] instantly turned as they saw Erin and Palt coming out of the private room. They gave the Centaur a dirty look and Erin some rather false smiles.

“Are they coming every day for the same reason you are, Palt?”

Erin frowned a bit, inconspicuously nodding towards Montressa and Beza. The Centaur paused. He absently reached for a puffer, and then checked the motion. Instead, he produced a dark, black round lump and began to chew it. It looked like gum. Mixed with nicotine.

“Don’t worry about Montressa and Beza, Erin. They have orders, just like I do. For now, their factions want them here. I’m sure they’re not planning on anything radical. My faction has you claimed, so to speak. Not in any possessive way! But we’ll fight tooth-and-hoof to keep anyone from…doing anything. If you wanted to, you could ban them…”

He clearly didn’t want that too much. Nor did Erin. She regarded the two [Mages]. They weren’t something she knew the answer to. But…she had a sudden, really, horribly mean thought. The kind of mean thought that you should really get a slap on the back of the head for. But also, a smart thought.

The young woman hesitated, and then glanced at Palt. She nodded covertly at Palt.

“I’m gonna investigate. Back me up.”

She wandered over to the two [Mages]. And, with as much subterfuge in her voice as Mrsha hiding a cookie behind her back, she nodded at the two [Mages].

“Hey, you two. How’s things?”

“Pretty well, actually. Good morning, Erin. Palt.”

Montressa smiled at Erin. The young woman was as always dressed in her robes, but she lacked the magical staff or floating brass orb. She was also better at acting or more genuinely relaxed than her companion.

Bezale or Beza, the Minotauress [Spellscribe], bared her teeth at Erin like she had a toothache. Montressa went on as Erin pulled out a chair.

“We were hoping to speak to you actually, if you’re not busy?”

“No, go on. I mean, I’m just puttering around. Doing stuff, y’know? But I have time. Did you see the Grimalkin lifting thing yesterday?”

“Beza actually did a lot of lifting. I passed.”

Montressa gestured at her friend. Beza wore a sour expression.

“I came in 8th place. Eighth. Disgraceful.”

“Sounds pretty good to me?”

The [Spellscribe] turned a face full of wrath Erin’s way. Montressa kicked Beza under the table and went on smoothly.

“The broadcast was actually really…interesting. It caused a bit of a stir at the academy, actually. You—wouldn’t happen to be free to chat about your home, would you? I could offer you compensation if—”

“I don’t think Erin needs to speak with your factions, Montressa. Good morning, by the way.”

“Palt.”

Beza folded her arms, much like another Minotaur that Erin had known.

“And what would Erin get from sharing her valuable information with you two? Just asking.”

Palt gave the two of them a smirk. Montressa’s left eyelid began to twitch. She sighed, and gave up the pretense. She looked straight at Erin.

“I know we’ve been trouble, Erin. But I can make you an offer Palt can’t. We could, at this moment, connect you with some of your friends from home. Let you two talk.”

Erin blinked. For a second she stared. Palt’s snort of outrage brought her back.

“And how many people would be listening and recording the conversation?”

“We’d swear to privacy if you wanted it.”

Montressa looked like she’d rather stab Palt than the cinnamon bun she’d been served. The Centaur rolled his eyes.

“Absolutely. Just let the two speak in perfect privacy—then ask the other person from Erin’s…home what was said.”

The young woman exhaled slowly. She had nothing to say to that. She looked rather hopelessly at Erin.

“They would like to speak with you, Erin…what do you think?”

The Centaur was certainly against it. He was actually whispering to Erin—she glanced back and saw his lips weren’t moving. But his voice was speaking audibly in her right ear.

“I really wouldn’t. They’re just going to ask questions they want the answer to. Some of the Earthers are joining up with the factions. We can arrange a conversation. It’ll take a while, but…”

Erin tuned him out. She had already come up with her answer after the moment of surprise. She smiled at Beza and Montressa.

“Hey, um, that’s flattering, but I’m gonna pass, okay? I’m really busy, you know, making a gym, hot tubs…”

She excused herself and Montressa let her go without too much more argument. She turned, watching as Erin walked through the Garden of Sanctuary to find Mrsha and see if she wanted to go plant blue fruit seeds. Montressa stared enviously at the door to the garden—she wasn’t allowed in.

Palt was, but he could only walk through, not summon the door. The Centaur chewed on his tobacco gum or whatever it was as Erin paused and swung the door closed. And she left it open a crack, and sat down and listened.

“Thanks, Palt.”

The [Aegiscaster]’s tone was acidic. Also, hurt. Erin heard a screech of chairs being moved—Palt would be kneeling on the floor, chairs not being a thing Centaurs used.

“Look, I’m just doing my job. Try to understand Erin’s perspective. She does not need to be involved in a power play, especially with an Archmage’s faction. You know what will happen if they get nasty, especially the Libertarians.”

“Well, what about some damned friendship? We came here together. This is you stabbing us in the back.”

“Hah. Good one, Montressa. I prefer to think this was a stab from the front. That you walked into. We knew we were going to duke it out over the Earthers.”

The [Illusionist] was snappish, which was another tone Erin never heard. At least Beza’s voice was the same tone—that was to say, grumpy Minotaur.

“Do you need to completely turn on your friends, Palt?”

“Don’t give me that, Beza. Both your factions have Earthers. This is my big shot. You have to understand what that’s like.”

“We do. But we’re in boiling water right now, Palt. We need something. Or…can we talk? Negotiate, just between us.”

A silence. Mrsha rolled around the grass and went down the steep hill, giggling silently. Erin wondered if they could import butterflies. Then again…caterpillars were actually really gross. Bees were nice, but they were stinging jerks. And after the Ashfire Bees…

Were there any bugs that were cute up close as well as far away? Besides Bird with a hat, that was. He was…fishing in the pond? Did they have fish now? Erin suspected Numbtongue.

“I suppose we can. I don’t want to pull a [Bloodmage] on you two. Let’s talk. Tonight? The inn?”

“I hate that Drake. Peslas. He has a real problem with Humans.”

“You think it’s bad? I’m a Minotaur and the only other one this city knows is a convicted murderer and teamslayer.”

“We’ll talk in my room. Tonight. After dinner? I’m here all day.”

“I bet you are.”

Pause, clopping hooves. Erin tensed, waiting for them to come for the door, but Palt was going somewhere else. She relaxed.

“What an ass. I thought of him as a friend.”

Beza growled. Montressa made a soft, sighing sound.

“It’s his big break, Beza. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing?”

“I…what are we going to do? The [Innkeeper] doesn’t trust us.”

The conversation grew silent as Erin made the door disappear. She paused.

“Darned right.”

She leaned back and sighed. It would be so much easier to relax and just distrust Montressa. And Beza. And Palt for good measure. It would be so much easier, if she hadn’t met this sniffing [Necromancer] from Wistram. Who turned out to be not-a-jerk. And even heroic at times.

Even so. Erin leaned back against the wall. This was only uh, Palt-level intrigue. If that. Time to get really nasty.

Mrsha raced over as she saw a glow from where Erin was sitting. Her eyes went round as Erin closed her eyes. She stared—but Erin shooed her away.

“Go on, Mrsha. I’m going to do a bad thing. And don’t look. You’ll get all sad.”

—-

Beza and Montressa were discussing Palt and talking lightly when they saw Erin wandering around the inn again. She was laughing, talking with Drassi, and the group of [Actors] who’d come in like they did every morning.

The Players of Celum were expanded, ready to roll, and indeed, some only had to roll out of bed to be ready for work. Temile had gotten up around lunch time, bleary-eyed and yawning. The [Actors] worked late into the night and slept in or conducted a lot of their non-dramatic business in the mornings.

Montressa and Bezale were well aware they weren’t welcome in the inn, if Erin’s muted reaction and Palt hadn’t been enough of a clue. They’d been civil, at least. But the two had a reputation.

Not undeserved. The Wistram team had caused a mess when they first arrived and Montressa would readily admit that. And they were not getting a lot of friendly looks.

But then—no one was stopping to throw their drinks in the two’s faces, so there was also that. The Wistram [Mages] had caused trouble, yes. They’d fought the Horns in the Bloodfields. But Isceil had died battling the Crelers, and people remembered that too. So their reception was mixed between frosty tolerance and muted distrust.

It would have been easier for the two to relax with the [Actors] taking the attention of the theatre-loving crowd, which was the usual crowd at this time of day. A Drake [Veteran] with a severed tail, some apprentices on their days off, some hopeful [Actors] or just people who wanted to enjoy and not partake…

Unfortunately, the Players of Celum were not performing a literary classic that would last across the ages. Or at least, not one that had stood the test of time yet. They were doing Frozen, and Bezale winced as the lead [Actress], a Gnoll playing the [Ice Queen] with a wand, began to sing.

“Ugh. I cannot stand the singing. Montressa, hit me with a [Deafening] spell. Better yet, let’s go somewhere else.”

She hated catchy songs. The Minotauress looked at Montressa. The [Aegiscaster] shook her head.

“We can’t leave, Beza. We’ll miss…whatever crazy thing is happening next. I’ll deafen you if you want.”

Bezale was seriously considering it when Erin walked over.

“Hey you two. Enjoying the music? We’re gonna audition some of the [Actors] today. You can join in if you want. It’s fun for everyone!”

Indeed, there were some kids volunteering to be part-time child [Actors], an apprenticeship much like many in the city—only they’d be key parts of the play.

Beza blanched.

“Will they be…singing…all day?”

She indicated the performers. Erin paused.

“…Yes? I mean, these are just auditions. Then they’ll practice, oh, and do a performance tonight…”

The Minotauress looked like she was about to cast [Deafness] and [Blindness] on herself. Erin noticed. She paused and bit her lip.

“We have a private room too. If you’d like to drink there.”

Montressa and Beza looked at each other. Montressa silently weighed the odds of Beza literally charging the stage after the tenth run-through of a catchy pop song and nodded.

“That would be great, Erin.”

Beza looked at her. Montressa whispered as she stood up.

“We can always hear anything happening.”

—-

The same private room that Erin and Palt had used was comfortable. Montressa and Beza relaxed. Erin lit a candle, put it on a table, and then offered the two refills of their drinks and snacks. The two [Mages] accepted gratefully. Out of the common room, they felt better, relaxed.

The singing had been grating on Montressa’s nerves too, which was odd because she had enjoyed the play the first four times. Maybe fifth was when you got tired of it? But she liked pop songs.

The two waited as Ishkr came in and served them, then they relaxed. Montressa stared around the room, and sighed.

“Nice place. Look, she’s even got colored candles now. And private rooms—that garden we can’t enter…it’s different than when we first came here.”

“Yes. Shame it’s all to Palt’s credit.”

Beza leaned one arm heavily on the table. She sighed. Both [Mages] drank fairly liberally. Day-drinking was a Wistram student’s hobby—well, for some of them. They partied hard, studied hard, and since neither [Mage] thought they’d be working much today, they were going for the former.

Also, they were both feeling down. Their encounter with Palt had just hammered home the situation they were in. Down a party member—no, three. But one was dead and the other two had left. In hot water with their factions…Montressa levitated the pitcher over and filled Beza’s cup, then her own again.

“Cheers.”

Beza didn’t return the gesture. She drank, and then looked at her friend.

“What are we doing here, Montressa?”

“Our jobs.”

“You think Palt will give us more than scraps to give to our factions?”

Montressa shrugged.

“Doubt it. But we’ll get something. And soon, Archmage Naili will send us another person to check up on. Maybe ‘L’, or that [Emperor]. Or ‘batman’.”

“Huh. And you’ll do it? Really?”

The Minotauress looked at Montressa. The [Aegiscaster] grimaced.

“What are we supposed to do? Go back to the academy?”

“Maybe.”

Montressa du Valeross paused. She looked up at Beza.

“You’re thinking of it. I don’t blame you. Beza, if you want to go, don’t let me stop you. I’ve made a mess of things.”

The Minotauress snorted. She scooted her chair in.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you’re staying, I’m staying. I don’t walk off on my team. Much less friends. If you wanted to go on after the Horns of Hammerad, I’d be right behind you, never mind what my faction says.”

She pointed a finger at Montressa. But the young woman didn’t jump at the suggestion like she would have a while back.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Beza. I…I’m done with that. I’ll have to answer to Beatrice when we get back, but I’m done.”

The [Spellscribe] looked at the young woman’s face. She eyed her cup of ale, tossed it down, and poured herself another cup.

“Do you want to…discuss it?”

She waited, but Montressa didn’t reply instantly. Beza sipped and spoke, curtly.

“It would be simple if we were in my homeland. In Minos, we believe in one virtue above all others. Honor. We’d execute someone like that, or rather, pass judgment first. Our King would decide the matter. We don’t revisit sentences. Once punished, the matter rests. Forever.”

Montressa stirred.

“Yeah. I know, Beza. Honor…”

She sounded tired, as much as anyone who’d heard a Minotaur lecturing about honor. Beza waved a big palm.

“Hear me out. I know I talk about honor, but I don’t know if you understand what I mean. It is more than what other cultures think of it. For you it’s something stiff, cumbersome. But to us, honor is more than that. It’s…a way of life. Duty, conduct, and it is its own reward. Minotaurs strive to improve themselves, to contribute in a meaningful way. And yes, to be examples to the world.”

She tapped herself on the breast. Montressa nodded. Beza went on.

“It’s a simple system. Those above us judge those below. But those with honor also make their own judgments. Each one of Minos acts by our conscience; we allow no corruption from above or below.”

“What about sideways? Sorry, sorry. But how does that system work, Beza? Everyone’s honorable? Is your King the most honorable Minotaur of all?”

Montressa raised her hands as Beza glowered. The Minotauress drank.

“Absolutely. Our King is a wise leader. She is a paragon of honor, and all respect her because she exemplifies our virtue.”

The young woman paused. Beza had made a grammatical error.

“Your King? But you said she.”

“So?”

“Beza, Kings are male.”

The Minotauress snorted.

“King is a title. Queen implies that gender matters.”

“But king is masculine. The word, I mean.”

The two looked at each other, frowning as if they were debating some minutiae of magical theory in class. The Minotauress sighed gustily.

“King is what other nations respect. Queen makes Humans ask who the king is, or if she is married. We have a Minotaur King, and that is all other species need to know about her.”

“Oh. I’ve never been to Minos. I didn’t know.”

“Because we don’t need to talk about it. Not like Humans who always have to tell us who they serve.”

Beza nodded wisely and somewhat arrogantly. Montressa gave her a dour look.

“So Minos is wonderful. I get it. Honor above all else.”

“You don’t understand. I’m just saying that it’s better to have a system like that. Clear-cut. No backtracking on rules, no negotiating sentences…if the rest of the world were like home, it would be easier. Well—I suppose that’s what my ancestors thought. We were not always on the Archipelago, you know. Once, we had lands elsewhere. Until the Era of Conquest. For that, we were exiled to the House of Minos, condemned to face our ancient foes.”

“Beza, you’ve told me this a thousand times…”

The young woman sighed. When Beza got drunk, she lectured people on honor and her home. The Minotauress waved an urgent hand.

“I’m not saying it’s perfect! Just—nearly.”

“Oh yeah? You have your ancient foes. Goblins. Explain that one to me.”

The Minotauress paused. She took another drink. Glumly, Montressa did the same.

“You don’t understand. You’d have to see them. Well—I never have. Up close. But I’ve seen the results. They are not like the Goblins on the continent. Your Goblin Lords…you had one come through here. We know what power they possess. Even after thousands of years, we can’t wipe them out from their damned island.”

“Not for lack of trying?”

“No. But it’s our burden to bear. Our punishment, that’s what I’ve heard. Personally, I believe the world forced us onto our islands because they were afraid of what would happen if we grew in number.”

Beza flexed one huge arm. She was taller than most species—even most Gnolls—and she had an incredible physique for a [Mage]. Second only to Grimalkin, really. Although that was an unfair comparison.

“Minotaurs are naturally stronger than any other race; we make siege weapons, which only Pallass and a few other nations even understand. If we are not the most gifted at magic—well—you have not seen our [Warmages], our navy and army.”

“Gee, tell me more. Why did you come to Wistram, then?”

The [Aegiscaster] heard nothing. She glanced up and saw Beza looking into her cup. The Minotauress mumbled a reply.

“I…went to Wistram because I lacked the magical ability to qualify for that role.”

“Oh.”

Montressa sobered a bit. She sat up.

“Beza, I—”

“It’s a fact. But I was weak, for all I loved magic. You understand? I fought for the honor of leaving the House of Minos, but it was a lesser one. Not like Venaz of Hammerad, who learns from the Titan himself.”

“Do you miss it?”

The two were maudlin now. Beza chewed savagely at some of the fries and Montressa helped herself to some of the nuts.

“Yes. No. The House of Minos…is a peaceful land, Montressa. That’s what people do not know. We clash with the Goblins, defend our shores. But we live in a utopia. If you do not desire to leave our islands, you may live and work and prosper in peace. Even the other nations which claim perfection admit ours is a wonderful place. Fetohep of Khelt himself acknowledged it as such under the last three Minotaur Kings.”

“Really? Even with the Goblins…?”

“We can’t get rid of them, but they have never invaded, save for when the Goblin Kings appear. Believe me, it is a paradise. One of few in the world.”

“Do you have a list? I know Khelt, and the Archmage’s Isle, but…”

Beza had a list. She counted them off on her fingers.

“Khelt in Chandrar, the Kingdom of Keys in Terandria, the Archmage’s Isle of Heiste, and of course the Silent Dome the Dullahans built—and the House of Minos. Paradises in our time.”

“So why leave?”

The [Spellscribe] coughed, pounding on her chest. She dipped a fry in ketchup. It was interesting—this was a much realer talk than Beza normally gave. She must really be as down as Montressa not to be glorifying her homeland with every second word.

“I left because I was like the others who leave. I wanted to explore the world. To show them—honor. To test myself and grow, and return to Minos a hero!”

She clenched a fist, then sagged. Her horned head lowered and nearly scored the table.

“Instead, my comrade died. And—I was carried off the battlefield while the very people I came to capture slew an Adult Creler.”

“You fought. They nearly ate you alive, Beza. If the [Healer] hadn’t been there you’d have lost a leg and your arms—”

“Better that I had. Better than running. I was worse than the adventurers who stayed and died. I wasn’t ready. He was right.”

Montressa looked at Beza’s wretched expression. The Minotauress turned away from Montressa.

“I came here knowing what was right in the world. Prepared to do justice. Now, I find myself wondering if Calruz of Hammerad is the monster I assumed.”

The young woman didn’t reply. She knew that had been one of the reasons why Beza had come here. She looked down into her own cup. Montressa felt her eyes sting. Then she spoke, abruptly, like forcing a splinter out of her chest.

“I liked him. So much. He was so intelligent, and witty, and handsome and—I really liked him. Even after I found out he was a [Necromancer], I still wanted to get to know him. He was so talented. But that wasn’t just it. I thought he understood something about magic I didn’t.”

Beza’s head rose. But she didn’t interrupt. Montressa took another long drink and burped.

“When we found out he did necromancy, everyone abandoned him. Beatrice, Calvaron, Ceria—we were a group of four back then. Calvaron sort of talked to Pisces, but he was always apolitical. And Beatrice didn’t like Pisces like everyone else. I think Ceria was the angriest. But I never gave up. I kept talking to him. Helping out, learning from him. And you know what? I asked him to teach me necromancy.”

Beza swung around. Her eyes were round with disbelief. Montressa waved a finger at her.

“Shut up. Back then, I thought—it wasn’t corpses. He was teaching me how to animate things. Rats. Little creatures, along with regular spells.”

“But…why? Did you want to become a…”

“No, no. Listen. I thought he was right. Magic is magic. If we cut ourselves off from understanding something—blood magic, necromancy—how can we call ourselves true [Mages]? It’s how it’s used that makes something evil.”

Beza nearly nodded. She waited as Montressa put her head down. The young woman muttered into the table, closing her eyes.

“And then he opened Archmage Nekhret’s crypt. And Calvaron died. And I saw what undead were. Evil. They want to kill us. I saw it. You can control them, but something in them wants to kill us. Turn us into them.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I thought it was. I thought he was a horrible person, and he’d tricked me and I’d made it happen. Beatrice was furious at me. And Ceria. No one talked to me at all for nearly a whole year. Until you and Isceil, Palt, and Ulinde came along, I was a pariah, and most of the new students heard about me.”

The Minotauress shifted uncomfortably.

“In truth, I wanted to see if you were what the rumors said of you, Montressa. And what I found was the most talented [Mage] of her year, and a secretbroker.”

Montressa didn’t reply. She’d fought her way back up into everyone’s good graces. Risen in her faction, leveled—and for what? She’d met Pisces and this time she’d tossed herself into the gutter.

“What am I supposed to do, Beza? Calvaron’s dead. He died a long time ago. And I’ll never forgive Pisces for that. But why…”

She closed her eyes. She bit back the other thing she was going to say and looked up, red-eyed, but not crying.

“Why do I still admire him? When I saw him make that—thing—to beat the Adult Creler, with Ceria. I thought, ‘that’s magic.’”

She put her head back down. Beza stood up. She shuffled around the table, and sat next to Montressa. The Minotauress patted Montressa awkwardly on the head and looked around for something to feed her. Rather like someone trying to soothe a dog or cat.

“Let’s go back, Montressa. To the Academy. Someone else can take up our role. Palt. He’s already begun cutting us out of the loop. He wants to monopolize Erin. And Ulinde…left.”

“And do what? Beatrice won’t understand. She loved Calvaron. She would kill me. I’m actually almost serious. What do I do?”

“It’ll be fine. If you don’t want to do that—we’ll stay here, as you said. Try to get into Miss Solstice’s good graces.”

“I’m a failure. Everything I do turns to dust.”

“That’s not true. You’re a fine leader. Who can predict Crelers? How about this, we stay another week, ask for another Earther. If we don’t get a reply…we could visit the House of Minos. You’d be welcomed with me.”

“I’m just a slime. A sewer slime. I got Isceil killed. He trusted me—”

At this point, their conversation got too depressing. So it was rather fortuitous that there was a knock at the door.

“I’m so sorry. Montressa? Beza?”

Drassi interrupted the two [Mage]’s pity party. The Drake stared at them as Montressa and Beza jerked upright.

“What? What’s the matter? How can we help?”

Montressa put a not-at-all convincing look on her face. Drassi pointed uncertainly.

“Actually…Erin was talking with the Players of Celum and they don’t have great uh, ice spells. For the play? She was asking if you two wouldn’t mind casting [Ice Wall]. I hear Montressa knows it. And Palt doesn’t—I mean, he can make fakes ones, but…I can tell Erin you’re busy.”

The [Aegiscaster] looked up.

“No, I’d love to help. Beza?”

“Coming. I’ll just [Deafen] myself.”

The Minotauress drained her drink. Montressa and Beza, somewhat unsteadily, left the room. And that was good. They’d feel better in a bit.

There was something that made Drassi pause as she closed the door, but she didn’t figure out what it was before she followed the two [Mages]. If she’d stopped and thought about it, she’d have realized it was the extra door on the far end of the room.

Montressa and Beza hadn’t given it a second glance. They’d probably assumed it was a door leading into some closet. And like [Mages], what wasn’t magical wasn’t obvious to them.

Also, Erin hadn’t wanted them to know. She didn’t know if it was [Crowd Control], or the [Inn’s Aura], or just luck. But neither had noticed a tiny detail. The door was slightly ajar.

Just a crack. But it led to a special place. That could be everywhere or anywhere.

The Garden of Sanctuary. Erin was sitting in the doorway; right next to the slightly open door. And she had been keeping it there; a bemused Mrsha, Numbtongue, and Bird who’d wanted to try planting blue fruits in the garden had been unable to summon it.

Now, she stood up and entered the room. If you looked closely, you’d know this door was the door to the Garden. For one thing, it had iron bands along the door. Nothing else in the inn had iron in it. She wondered…if that was her, or her Skill. After all, she loved the visitors, but they were dangerous too.

“Wow.”

Erin shook her head. She felt strange. Guilty, sympathetic—but mostly like the biggest weasel in the world. She walked over to the glowing, blue flame in the corner of the room. After a second, Erin blew out the magical fire.

[Like Fire, Memory]. It was the only one she could conjure at will. Erin stared at the wick and tallow; it had burnt down the full candle nearly to the nub. Saliss had said her happy flame burnt even faster. Then she looked at herself.

“I had to do it. But—Erin punishment! Hiyah!”

Lyonette opened the door just in time to hear the thump. She saw Erin crouching on the ground, holding her forehead.

“…What are you doing, Erin?”

The young woman clutched at her ringing skull. She looked up and met the [Princess]’ skeptical gaze. Erin paused.

“Eavesdropping.”

Lyonette’s brows crossed. Erin paused, then stood up. She put on her best Erin-smile and cheerful tone of voice.

“I mean, oops! I was just looking for a place to turn into a…dance floor. Y’know, since we have a gym? Grimalkin left us a set of weights, and I thought we could do yoga. Or something. Finger guns!”

She smiled cheerfully, doing said finger guns. Then dropped the smile, looked levelly at Lyonette and walked off. The [Princess] stared after Erin.

—-

Well, that was something. Almost too much. Erin had to take a walk around her garden to relax. She was still feeling guilty.

But she did have to know. That was what she hated. Mistrusting people and…to take her mind off the situation, Erin decided to move back to the fire.