7.19 (1/2)

“…Yerra?”

The question lingered. And that moment, the culmination of an adventure at sea, and the powers that claimed they ruled the waves clashing—all of it ended. Or took an interlude.

Until the next time the world deemed the events worthy of notice. And many who heard the question, whether directly from the scrying orb broadcasting The Emerald Signet from the decks of a Drake ship, or thereafter—reacted.

Wil’s sister, Talia, and his family. Yerranola’s family and fellow Selphids. The students of Niers Astoragon’s class and the Titan himself.

So many more. But on another day in the summer, someone who didn’t listen and had no idea that there were [Strategists] at sea sat in her inn. And she had a different kind of thought that had nothing to do with poison or Selphids or the ocean—well, one thing was related, at least.

“I think today I’ll try brewing some alcohol. I mean. I can. And that’s how alcohol works. Brewing, right?”

Erin looked at Lyonette for confirmation. The [Worldly Princess] raised her head; she was reading something.

“How much of a profit should I expect? Also—do it in the basement.”

The young woman scowled at Lyonette as the papers rose. Not your traditional book, but a cheaper, rather less sturdy substitute. But it could hold ink and someone had carefully scrawled on it.

The Pallassian Times. It was very familiar. Palt had brought a copy into the inn. And it was, to Erin’s knowledge, a written and curated account of worldwide events. The [Innkeeper] hadn’t read it; Lyonette had hogged it. Along with Drassi.

“Wow. There was a battle at sea.”

Erin read from the back of the newspaper. Lyonette glanced over it and scowled. Somehow, she had managed to emulate the classic newspaper look without having ever seen it before. That of a father, scowling at a child bothering him over the morning’s breakfast.

“If you need to use any of the gold or supplies, please make a list, Erin. I’ll calculate the efficiency later. Also, try not to make a mess? Do you even know how alcohol is made?”

“I have a Skill! Why, do you?”

“I know it ferments. So good luck with your [Field of Preservation] Skill.”

The newspaper rose. Erin opened and closed her mouth. Then she looked around.

“Well, someone’s getting their [Sasser] class.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Erin innocently got up. Mrsha hopped off the table as Erin rose. Sunlight poured through the window where she’d been napping on a table. It was a beautiful morning. And Lyonette’s increased backchat aside, Erin felt good. She stretched.

“Hey Mrsha, want to help me make alcohol? You can’t drink any, but it’ll be fun! Probably! We’ll do it outside or something. Maybe that [Fermenter] dude in Liscor could help? Um—Ushel! Hey, Mrsha, let’s go for a trip!”

The Gnoll cub sat on her butt on the floor and quickly raised her paws. She signed to Erin.

“Don’t…like…is that your word for alcohol? Stinky? Don’t like stinky alcohol? Gotcha! Well, I’ll pay you in stinky cheese howzabouthat?”

The young woman laughed and Mrsha laughed too. Erin looked around. Lyonette sighed.

“I suppose I’ll handle breakfast, then.”

She turned a page, frowning at an illustration of a battle at sea. Drassi was cleaning up and serving food to Temile; few of the regulars had come in.

It was early. And the [Actor] was blinking at his food as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it. Numbtongue hadn’t even woken up yet. Erin smiled.

As she thrust open the door and Apista fluttered out of the Garden of Sanctuary, high once again, Erin Solstice inhaled the fresh morning air. She opened her mouth to shout a greeting towards Liscor.

And then she saw it. A flash of azure. A gleaming body, walking up the hill towards the inn. Mrsha sniffed the air and Erin froze.

“Oh no. It’s her again!”

Lyonette glanced up as Erin slammed the door shut and ran. The [Princess] glanced up as Mrsha opened the door and peeked out. She waved one paw and the figure waved back.

The inn was silent for a few more seconds as Lyonette debated getting up. But she was invested in the dramatic retelling of the battles at sea—the fate of the [Strategists] and The Emerald Signet still unknown. They had been lost in the storm for days! She kept reading.

And a Hobgoblin walked down the steps. Numbtongue scratched at his side and yawned. He walked into the kitchen and waved at Lyonette. She smiled at him, far more cordial than with Erin.

“Morning, Numbtongue. We have a newspaper today.”

“A what?”

He paused on his way to the kitchen. Mrsha raced over and gave him a flying kick to the leg. The [Bard] barely noticed, although he winced slightly. Lyonette glared, but the Hobgoblin never objected; you got hit far worse in spars and Mrsha enjoyed it.

“A newspaper. It’s this new Pallassian thing. Well, new for…Pallass. Palt brought it in last night. You can read it over breakfast; I’m nearly done with it.”

“Morning, Numbtongue! Want today’s menu? It’s, uh, eggs benedictal.”

Lyonette corrected Drassi.

“Benedict. On Erin’s weird muffins.”

“English muffins!”

Someone called from the kitchen. There was a crash, and a few scuffling sounds. Numbtongue glanced towards the kitchen, but accepted whatever was happening wordlessly. He shook his head.

“I’ll find food.”

“Alright, then.”

The Hobgoblin went into the kitchen and poked around in the cupboards as Mrsha peeked out the door again and waved once more. She got another wave.

Numbtongue hunted around in the cupboards for what he wanted. No eggs, thanks. He was in a fishy mood today. He liked fish. He pulled out a rather magnificent flatfish, drizzled with Gnollish fish sauce. Salty, fresh.

Delicious. All it needed was heat. The Hobgoblin hummed as he turned to one of the ovens. Stone ovens of course, although Lyonette and Erin wanted to upgrade it. He had to light it; when he did he heard a yelp.

From within. The Hobgoblin stared. He opened the oven’s door slowly. And saw a young woman squeezed into the massive oven.

“I’m not here.”

Erin Solstice informed Numbtongue. He met her eyes. Slowly, he closed the oven door.

“And please put the fire out!”

The Hobgoblin went for the lower oven. He warmed up his fish…took the hot plate, cursing as he burned his fingers. Then he edged out of the kitchen.

By the time Numbtongue had made his food, the guest had entered the inn. She’d walked; the staff didn’t begin checking the magic door until a bit later. So, Xrn, the Small Queen, Centenium and [Thaumaturge], was relatively alone in the inn. The Wistram [Mages] hadn’t come down yet.

She stood in the middle of the room as Numbtongue stared. But—he had met her already. So he just edged over to a table and began to eat his fish. Lyonette glanced up as Drassi hurried over.

“Miss Xrn! How can we help you today?”

The Centenium’s mandibles opened and rose. And Xrn’s eyes shone bright yellow and green. Mrsha sat and stared up at her. For the azure Antinium was pure magic. And the staff she used to walk with shone with it. Even Lyonette could see that.

But they’d already been introduced. Xrn nodded to Drassi.

“I would like to speak to Innkeeper Erin Solstice, again. Drassi of the Drakes. Is she here?”

Drassi looked around.

“She just was. I think she’ll be about.”

“Hmm.”

Xrn swept her gaze across the inn. She stared into the Garden of Sanctuary and Lyonette saw her eyes flash white for a moment. The gemstone of her staff glittered. It was some fine-cut, purple-and-green gemstone that shifted from color to color. It hovered in the center of floating fragments of wood, forming a loose circle around it.

The Antinium turned her head, inspecting the Garden of Sanctuary although she made no move for the door. Searching.

The [Princess] folded the newspaper, and handed it to Numbtongue as she made her way into the kitchen. She looked around, heard the breathing from the oven and opened it.

Erin stared at Lyonette. She had folded herself into the oven. She slowly raised one finger and put it to her lips. Lyonette put her hands on her hips, exasperated.

“Are you hiding in the oven?”

“Yes. Is she gone?”

“No. She wants you. Erin.”

The young woman waved her hands urgently.

“Don’t say my name! Don’t—”

“Hello, Erin Solstice. Is this some new game? Or custom? You must show it to me.”

Xrn the Small Queen appeared in the kitchen’s opening. Lyonette turned. Erin slowly pulled the door of the oven up.

But it was no use. In moments, Erin, a bit sooty and cramped, sat nervously at a table as Drassi put down a plate of benedict eggs in front of Xrn, on an English muffin. The Antinium’s eyes lit up with pleasure, which was pink in this case. She ate, happily chewing the eggs.

“Oh, they are different than normal eggs. How wonderful.”

“That’s the sauce. Glad you like them…Xrn?”

Erin watched the female Antinium eating the muffins, gluten, without issue. Xrn spoke as she savored each bite.

“I have come once again. Have you given any thought to my offers?”

The [Innkeeper] squirmed in her seat. The Small Queen regarded her.

“Well…I mean, I’d like to, Xrn. And you helping with the, um, Hive is great. Klbkch was really mad. And I get you’re in charge, now, but…”

“Is there some issue with my requests?”

Erin twiddled her fingers.

“…No? But it’s just sort of…big. I mean, I’ll totally agree to the stuff with the food. But everything else?”

She looked at Xrn. The Small Queen had come three days ago. And she had changed the Free Antinium. Klbkch, who had been driven to a rage Erin had never seen before was—dealt with.

No one had died. The Antinium had been welcomed back into their Hive. Klbkch had even taken a vacation from the Watch; he was no longer in charge of the Free Antinium, and Erin understood that this was only the beginning of the changes to the Hive. Big ones had begun.

And Xrn had sought Erin out. Not in an aggressive way, but she had come to the inn over the last three days. And but for the moment with Saliss, she had been welcoming—even playful with Mrsha. She was respectful, loved Erin’s food and seemed to appreciate all of the Antinium.

And yet—the Small Queen regarded Erin over her food as she raised another bite to her face.

“What will you refuse, Erin Solstice? By all means, tell me any objections and I will do my utmost to rectify them. Is cost an issue? I will double your price.”

Lyonette’s head snapped up. Erin winced.

“No, it’s not that. It’s so—sudden? I mean, some of it—why me?”

The Centenium folded her two arms. And she had only two. She smiled again and her eyes lit up with a multitude of colors. She was fascinating to Erin. And yet.

“Because you are Erin Solstice. And we have need of you. Will you not take more Antinium into your inn? Allow them to live here? At least Pawn, and a few others. They may even share a room. Or do you object to teaching the Antinium? Apprenticing Garry? Allowing them to eat here regularly? Is instructing the others and allowing them to play games in your inn an issue? We are quite willing to pay for more buildings. I would prefer to quarter as many as three hundred Antinium in proximity of the inn.”

The young woman opened and closed her mouth

“Um—the lots of Antinium nearby is the big thing. And…teaching them? I mean, sure! Let’s have them have patrols in here like normal. And eating! And I can have some of the rooms with Antinium in them! Definitely Pawn! Lyonette was saying we had rooms for him and a few others—”

She saw Lyonette nodding. Mrsha glowered as she poked her head over the table. Erin glanced at her. Xrn however just smiled. She offered Mrsha some of her muffin and the Gnoll took it.

“That is all well. And it is enough. But you seem to have reservations?”

She looked at Erin. The young woman hesitated.

“Well—it’s just so generous. I mean—why do you want me to do all this? The Antinium are paying a lot. And…I just don’t know what the Antinium get out of this.”

Xrn smiled.

“It is not something I can name in words, Erin Solstice. Or if I could—it is only your kindness. I have not been here long. But I hear it in all the Antinium’s words about you. Pawn, Belgrade, Anand, Garry—and the others. Give them all that you have. Even if it is but laughter and love. Give them Individuality. Give them your magic. If you will not allow hundreds of Antinium to wait upon you—or enter the Hive to train my people, I will be content with the rest.”

Erin found herself nodding. She agreed completely with that. Give the Antinium love? Xrn was great. Amazing, really. If it was just that…

“So…Klbkch isn’t in charge?”

“He is learning to feel. He is a fool. I have hit him with my staff multiple times, but he only understands war. Klbkch the Slayer is an apt term for him. Also: flawed beyond belief because it is incomplete. He is more than a weapon. But he is a poor leader. He does not appreciate what you can do.”

The Small Queen looked at Erin. The young woman found herself nodding.

“Yeah. You’re so—caring, Xrn. Pawn was saying that when he came in. Why are you so—not Klbkch?”

The Antinium loved Xrn. The female Antinium’s eyes lit up with pleasure.

“Indeed, I am not Klbkchhezeim. I fully appreciate many things he was never meant to. I was designed to lead. To inspire. To foresee the future of what we might be. To cast magic, as well. Klbkch was ever meant to slaughter our foes. To pile the bodies of the dead into walls around our Hives. He has learned leadership. But part of him is still the lone warrior who would walk into an army of foes without fear of death. I am glad he has recovered some of his power, but he is a fool.”

Erin half-smiled. But then Xrn went on.

“And yet—he learned some of his empathy from you. I hope you will allow him back into your inn. He must learn. And so must the Antinium. He is our fool. Please, teach him more. And give him—give the Antinium some of your magic. Perhaps Klbkch should stay in this inn. Although Pawn did object.”

“Are you finished, Miss Xrn? Can I get you more?”

Drassi went by to take the plate. The Centenium shook her head. She stood.

“I am finished. Miss Erin Solstice, would you do me the courtesy of allowing me into your garden?”

“…Of course.”

Xrn even asked. She walked into the garden. And her eyes shone as green and vibrantly as the grass, mixed with the clear blue of the skies. Like magic.

“How beautiful. Look at the power of it. And you have shown me your magical fire. It is, like my magic, a power not known to [Mages] or Antinium. A different sort of power. Please, Erin Solstice. I will send the Antinium to you. Give them your strength. We have need of it.”

The young [Innkeeper] saw Xrn glance over her shoulder. Even in this—Erin felt so strongly for Xrn. She whispered.

“I’ll try. But I don’t know what I do. I just—care.”

“Yes. You, among others, care when the other species do not. And that makes Antinium Individual. Do so. I will send the Silent Antinium, the Flying, and Armored Antinium to you. Excuse their faults. Even Pivr’s. And in return—give them Individuality. Allow them to level. Give them your power as Pawn and Belgrade and the others have. They must have it.”

The Small Queen stood in the garden. And she raised her staff towards the sunlight streaming through the ceiling. Her voice was so fond, so—almost motherly, or perhaps like a big sister’s, so affectionate, Erin nearly forgot. But then—the Small Queen went on.

“And I have heard of your power. The—coincidences. Can you find me a ship? Allies to crew it, perhaps?”

“A ship?”

The Small Queen looked at Erin. She nodded.

“If it is within your power. The people you know. Find us allies? I will reward every endeavor, every action of good faith, Erin Solstice. As I told you, here—you may name your boon. Will you not take the Free Antinium’s gold? We have enough to build your inn a hundred times over. I would give you ten thousand gold pieces if you would accept them.”

Her eyes glinted. And a bit of red, purple, and black—the color, swimming amid her eyes.

“A hundred thousand pieces if you can create in one of the Antinium a change like that of Pawn’s. He will be a glorious leader. He can heal. Even block Klbkch. Yes, we need him. We need your power. The Antinium must be powerful. Our foes are mighty. I would have an army of eight hundred thousand Painted Antinium at the least. And they would be unmatched save for the True Antinium’s power.”

And there it was. Darkness floating amid her eyes. She turned her head.

“War is coming, Erin Solstice. Turn the Antinium into a blade. You have reservations—but I will give you what you wish. Do you wish me to enchant your inn? I have the magic for it.”

Erin Solstice looked at her. And she saw it in Xrn again, the same as when she’d met. And every time Xrn had visited.

Klbkch was one thing. Flawed, kindly—somehow a dangerous killer and her old friend at the same time. But Xrn?

She scared Erin out of her wits. Because she didn’t hide what she was. Erin licked her dry lips.

“Enchant my inn…?”

“Of course. I am Xrn. My magic is not the same as that of the three [Mages] under your roof. But I have my own enchantments. I will render each you require. Ask. If you wish me to enchant your walls—I will do so. Would you like them stronger? With the power to attack back?”

“You can do that? Just do that?”

The Small Queen turned her head.

“Naturally. I am unique as all the Centenium are. I was made for magic. And unlike Klbkch, my form remains. I am specialized, Erin Solstice. Ask and if it is within my power or that of the Antinium, it will be done.”

Erin did not. She looked at Xrn. She took a breath.

“I’m happy to have the Antinium here, Xrn. But—can’t you—I don’t want the Antinium to become a blade. Can’t you talk to Saliss? Or Chaldion? Well, he’s in the hospital. But the others…you scare the Drakes.”

The Centenium paused. She looked at Erin, kindly. And Erin sensed how old she was. Xrn smiled. But the creeping blackness in her eyes shone. Laced with silver.

“There is little to say to the Drakes, Erin Solstice. They continue to war against us, even in ‘peace’. They would not believe anything we say. And they are right to fear us. But our foe is greater than you can imagine. And I bear you no ill will. Just all the gratitude I have. But I cannot give you either reassurance.”

“Even about the Antinium turning into weapons? Pawn isn’t a weapon.”

The azure Antinium looked at Erin. She smiled. Amused.

“Ah. Erin Solstice. You see what Klbkch does not. And perhaps that is why you are so…important. But we were all made to be weapons. For victory, we will charge into slaughter itself and die. Give us what you can and perhaps some might be saved. I implore you.”

She bowed. Erin had nothing to say to that. The Antinium spoke, and Erin listened. Some things she agreed to. But the rest?

At her heart, Xrn was a warrior. She was a kindly, caring, empathetic big sister. And she had killed her enemies by the millions and walked through their blood. She would again, in a heartbeat.

That was what Erin saw. And Xrn didn’t press. She offered everything. Gold, power. And Erin took only what mattered to her. In some ways—she and Xrn had little to offer each other.

When Xrn was gone, Lyonette turned to face Erin. She hadn’t heard all of it. But she saw Erin’s face. And it was…unsettled. Few people had ever done that to Erin Solstice, so the [Princess] revised her opinion of Xrn.

“Did she ask if she could build an apartment for the Antinium again? Three hundred of them?”

Erin nodded.

“And she offered to give me thirty regular Soldiers and Workers like Bird for the inn’s staff. To do with as I pleased, for a year. My own army, because she’s sure they’ll level. She’s intense. I thought Klbkch was intense! But he’s like…soft cheese!”

Lyonette looked at Erin. And she bit her lip on how useful thirty free staff members would be, even if Erin insisted on paying them. Erin Solstice stared after where Xrn had stood.

“Why me?”

“I think she understands what you can do.”

The [Innkeeper] turned her head. And she looked tired.

“Yeah. I probably could…but I don’t want to turn them into weapons. And Xrn?”

She saw Xrn, through the doorway, standing in the inn, squatting to speak to Mrsha and stroke her head. The kindly one. Erin didn’t know who Xrn’s foe was. The Centenium had offered to tell Erin everything if Erin would swear to her cause. But it would take Erin swearing an oath. To be committed to the Antinium forever.

The cause of the Antinium. To war. Erin shook her head.

The Wandering Inn was not a place of war. It was an inn. But—if you looked at Klbkch, you saw Senior Guardsman Klbkch, Revalantor Klbkch, Klbkch the Slayer. And only one of those was the monster of war.

But Xrn was all death. She saw the Antinium for who they were, with their personalities and feelings. And she cared. But she had told Erin they were meant to die, and that the cause they would die for was just, right. Unavoidable. Worth burning all the Walled Cities down for. Worth waging war against the entire world for. Something Xrn feared and hated more than her love for her people.

Erin wondered what that was.

—-

Still—Xrn got her way. The Antinium would come to Erin’s inn. Each night, in fact. They had a budget. And it was large enough to make Lyonette smile all day—and that was aside from the news that Pawn and at least a dozen Antinium would have rooms in Erin’s inn as the second and third floors were constructed.

Xrn had paid in advance. And they might double or even go three to a room, but they’d be here. Heck—she was doing great things.

And terrible. And it wasn’t like her presence didn’t affect Erin. It did—it made Erin worried. And thoughtful. Just not predisposed to support Xrn wholly.

So Erin amended her plans.

“I’m not gonna make alcohol. Too much work. I’ll just roll into phase two of my plan. It’s all related. I’m gonna borrow the kitchen, okay, Lyonette? I’m making stuff for Palt.”

The [Princess] could never follow Erin. She eyed the young woman.

“How is alcohol and the kitchen related for…oh.”

Her eyes widened. Erin blinked.

“Oh, sorry. Not Palt. Pelt! Those names are so similar, it cracks me up each time.”

She grinned. Then she pointed.

“Door! Kitchen!”

Erin walked into the kitchen. Lyonette followed her, sighing. She walked into the inn and began serving clients.

The Wistram [Mages] came downstairs. Palt, as always, had trouble navigating the stairwell.

“Move it, Palt! I’m hungry!”

Montressa complained. Beza reached out and Palt nearly bit at her.

“Push me and I’ll kick you, Bezale! I’m hurrying!”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs benedict! Get them while it’s hot! Can I borrow the newspaper when you’re done, Numbtongue? I want to share it with my friends. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Mhm.”

The Wistram [Mages] exchanged a knowing glance about the newspaper. But Palt was heading over to a table.

“I think we’ll be investigating this um, Golden Triangle thing. We’ve got orders from the top, Palt. You?”

“I’m off my leash. The Golden Triangle?”

“Yup. In Pallass. Apparently Naili wants us on it now. Something to do with, you know? The guests? Sounds like trouble, but what do I know?”

Montressa rolled her eyes as she took her plate. Beza was nodding.

“We will look into it. Quickly. Apparently, some [Lords] have joined the movement. And nations. Thousands of gold are being turned into profits.”

“I did hear about it. It sounds lucrative. Only…”

Palt’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at the kitchen and Montressa sighed.

“You do your thing. We’ll do ours.”

“Maybe I’ll just see if Erin wants to chat. Or—if she needs help. Is she cooking, Lyonette?”

“Something, Palt. If you want to help, be my guest. And if you could make some more of your saffron rice tonight? It always sells!”

Lyonette smiled gratefully at the Centaur. He trotted into the kitchen.

A few seconds later he trotted out. Beza and Montressa looked up as he went back to his plate.

“What’s wrong, Palt? Not gonna help Erin out?”

Montressa gave the Centaur a suspicious look. The [Illusionist] pulled out a smokeless cigar—he was running out—and shuddered.

“Not this time. I would, but…I can’t help with construction or tasting. Not my field.”

“What?”

Beza looked incredulous. But Palt just nodded to the kitchen. A young woman edged out. She was holding something. She lifted it and the Minotauress’ jaw dropped.

“Can I get anyone to help me taste test this?”

Numbtongue, Mrsha, and Beza all stared at what Erin was holding. Mrsha fainted onto the ground. Numbtongue slowly raised a hand. Beza looked at Montressa and grinned.

“I knew I liked this inn. I’ll help! Is it free?”

“Erin, what is that?”

The young woman grinned. Her creation, made of sin and gluttony, dripped onto the floor. Mrsha raced over like a shot out of a cannon, begging and drooling.

“A gift! I’m going to Pallass. Once I perfect the recipe.”

—-

Pallass. The City of Inventions. A glorious land that was a type of heaven for the [Engineer], the aspiring [Alchemist] or [Inventor]. A place where you could be funded to follow your passions.

Because that was what happened. Small or large, new inventions and recipes came from Pallass. And you could be granted a stipend depending on what you did.

Of course, a Walled city had so many other industries and things it supported that was only one aspect of it. But Pallass was the City of Inventions. It specialized in forging weapons, in alchemy.

Just like how Oteslia was an agricultural giant, or how Salazsar ruled the gem trade. Each Walled City specialized in a trade.

Just look at Saliss of Lights, simultaneously one of Pallass’ treasures and their disgrace. The Named Adventurer wasn’t causing trouble today. He’d sequestered himself away to teach his new apprentice some tricks. And because a strange female Drake had smashed another raid on an illicit bar the other night.

But that wasn’t the topic on everyone’s tongues. That was the [Strategists], who were right now in Zeres. And amid the hustle and bustle of the city came…poison.

Or perhaps, a kind of madness incarnate. A manifestation of chaos, like Saliss was. But if he was a known force, born of Pallass, she was an unknown quantity.

An omen you listened to by the shouting or screaming. A harbinger of doom. Had she brought the Wyverns or had the impending event drawn her? And who watched for her?

Only the wise, who had seen what might be and could be. Was that all just exaggeration?

Maybe. Or maybe not. Sergeant Kel eyed Erin as he checked her, Montressa, and Beza through the gate that led from the magical door to the rest of Pallass.

“No trouble, Miss Solstice?”

“Whaaaaat? Me? And you didn’t have to search my stuff! It’s just food! Hey, want a snack?”

Erin pouted as she hefted her rather big basket past the guards. A Gnoll was sniffing and licking his lips. Kel eyed Beza. The [Spellscribe] was walking while holding her stomach.

“I can’t believe you ate all of it. I felt sick watching.”

Montressa covered her mouth. Erin reached into her basket.

“I’ve got extras! Not the thing, but want some cookies?”

The Watch brightened. Kel, on the other hand, had heard the devil’s whispers. He looked chaos in the eye and denied it.

“No. We are on duty, Miss Solstice. Stop feeding the Watch.”

“Aw. You’re no fun.”

Erin stuck out her tongue. Some of the [Guards] grumbled under their breath, but stopped as Kel glared at them. He made a little note and sighed.

“Someone run this to the Watch House. Tell the Watch Captain on duty Miss Erin Solstice is in Pallass.”

One of the junior [Guards] looked incredulous. He, a Garuda, saluted Kel.

“Sergeant, surely we don’t have to tell the Watch Captain one Human…”

He fell silent as Kel glowered.

“Take the note. Or do you not remember the Antinium and Wyverns? She was there.”

The Watch fell silent. And they were learning. But was this force friendly or dangerous? She had toppled cities, brought low the ambitions of [Lords]. What might she get up to? But the law let her into the city. So, thus, Sergeant Kel reflected gloomily, the law was not infallible. And you wouldn’t know what happened until…

“I’m gonna go do my thing. Have fun!”

Erin Solstice waved to Montressa and Beza. The two [Mages] nodded and walked off, already headed for the Merchant’s Guild.

The [Innkeeper] on the other hand? She went about her mission. And yes—she was pulling a Xrn in her own way, but Erin didn’t like thinking of it like that. She just had her…network.

“Hey, Lorent! How’s my favorite [Sharpener]? Want a cookie? I keep meaning to thank you for finding my knife…”

Erin paused by a familiar stall and chatted with a Dullahan. He was only too happy to run her kitchen knife across his sharpening stone and chat for a moment. Just for a moment, but she headed onwards.

The young woman was beginning to know more of the city. She had plans to explore even further—but for now she headed to the nearest elevator.

“Ninth floor, please!”

She cheerfully called out with the other people waiting. The elevator attendant glanced at Erin. His eyes widened.

“Are you the Human? The one with Bird the—”

“Nope! You must have me confused! Us Humans all look alike!”

Erin waved her hands urgently. And soon, she was strolling across the 9th floor. She passed by forges and [Smiths] called out to her. Somehow, in a city of millions, they knew her. Even, or especially the high-level ones! Waiting clients and Street Runners blinked as Erin waved and crossed the hammering forges.

“Is that Bealt? Have a cookie! Sorry, special delivery. Is Pelt working today? He is? Where—oh, right by Maughin again! Thanks!”

Erin trotted over to the safety-line and then hurried over to a forge. She saw a huge Dullahan look up.

“Miss Solstice? What brings you here?”

“Maughin! Hey! Want a cookie?”

That was Erin’s line for the day. The [Armorer] was only too glad to chat, but he was a bit busy so he only gave Erin the briefest of greetings.

“It’s a busy day. I will have to work hard to make it back to spend time with Jelaqua, Erin. So forgive me my brusqueness.”

“She’s back? That’s great! You lucky dog, you!”

The Dullahan gave Erin a blank look as one of his apprentices held out his head.

“I am not a dog. But yes, I am happy. The Halfseekers were on the television, actually.”

“What? What? Seborn? No way! I’ll ask Rufelt and Lasica to show me! I should buy a scrying orb! Wait. Who’s calling it television?”

“Wistram. Why are you here, Miss Erin?”

The young woman gestured at the basket, warming in the heat from the forges.

“I’m looking for Pelt. Is he here?”

“Right there.”

Maughin pointed left. Erin blinked.

“But that forge is full!”

Indeed, the forge had no less than six people working in it, none of them Dwarf-sized. And they were busy moving the anvils, clustering around…Erin squinted. She walked over and stared.

“No way. Pelt?”

The Dwarf looked up from the circle of apprentices and junior [Smiths] hanging on his words. And ‘junior’ was a relative term. Erin saw a [Blacksmith] in his forties hurrying off with Pelt’s apprentice, Emessa. Erin blinked after them. And then she saw Pelt.

He scowled at her.

“It’s you again. Grandfather’s beards, what do you want? Stay away from my fire! And stand over there! They’re moving the anvils and if they drop it on your foot, I’m not paying for it!”

He waved his hammer at Erin. She backed off obediently and saw a group of [Smiths] lugging over an anvil. Which was impressive given that anvils at their lightest were nearly a hundred pounds and could go up to five hundred pounds in an ordinary forge.

And Pallass did not have ordinary forges. These anvils needed special stands to even withstand the impact and weight. But Pelt was moving his.

“That’s right! Into this section—here! Damn it, don’t touch the circle or I’ll pull your intestines out with my tongs you clod-footed idiots! And the other one in the sealed space, there!”

“But master, there’s no ventilation!”

Emessa protested as she pointed to a cordoned-off area. Erin saw black curtains hanging, and a stand for the anvil. The Dwarf turned purple.

“Ventilation? Don’t backchat me—apprentice!”

“Emessa.”

Erin whispered. Pelt glared at her. He bellowed at the Drake.

“You can debate with me when you’re twenty levels higher! Move those anvils! And get me my prepared tools and ingredients! And if I catch one of you walking off with them I’ll cut off your right hand! A Dwarf’s oath on that.”

The last line was delivered deadly serious. The [Smiths] shuddered as Pelt bellowed. They got to work. Erin stared at Pelt.

He seemed…energetic. The Dwarf turned and glared at her.

“What do you want, Human?”

“I…just thought I’d bring a sorry-basket. Lunch.”

Erin offered her basket to Pelt. The Dwarf sniffed suspiciously.

“Why would I want anything you made? And why are you here? The last time we met in Pallass the sky was shitting Wyverns—after you got arrested and wrecked a good forge!”

Erin winced. That had been a day. She smiled as she hefted the heavy basket; even with [Lesser Strength] she was getting tired of holding it.

“Because…I’m an [Innkeeper]. And I made something good. Promise!”

The Dwarf eyed her with deep distrust. But he nodded to one side.

“Alright. Put it down there. I need to check on the magic circle. Stand there and don’t conjure any magic fire! Or I’ll—”

“Pull my guts out with a tong?”

“—kick you off the side of the 9th floor.”

The Dwarf glowered and stomped off. Pelt inspected his forge, snapping at his apprentices. And it was—different.

Especially from Maughin’s forge, or the other smaller forges catering to individual blacksmiths they could use. This one looked—

Magical. It spoke to Erin. Especially the glowing circle traced in what looked like powdered gemstone in the floor. The diagram was etched around the circle, giving the smith room to stand in. There was a dark room to forge in, another with a hole cut in the ceiling—even the forges were being remodeled.

“This one needs to burn about ten times as hot as a charcoal forge. At least. If we need to, we’ll get an [Enchanter] here to work on it. But we won’t be able to melt Dwarfsteel with this shit flame.”

Pelt kicked at the forge, which would get to temperatures that would melt steel. His apprentices were cluttered around. Erin peeked over as Pelt cursed.

“Don’t ask me how! I’ll build it myself if I need to! Just get to work on today’s orders! I’ll handle the Dwarfsteel and higher metals. You—take the mithril crap. Apprentice—”

“Emessa—”

“Shut up, Human! Start with the silver. The rest of you, the steel orders! I’ll do the embellishing—just get it in a workable piece! Don’t ask questions! If you forge shit, I’ll see it and stop you. Any imperfection I will catch. And I’ll only break one finger per flaw! Get to work!”

The Dwarf howled and his crew got to work. They didn’t use either of the special forges, opting to use the regular anvils. Erin saw Pelt stomp back towards her.

“Sorry about that. Rookie smiths. Idiots think they know what steel is. You got them all the time in Deríthal-vel. Dwarfhome. What’s in the basket?”

He seemed calmer now. Erin stared at Pelt. She looked around.

“Sorry, I’m in the wrong place. I’m looking for a rude jerk. Always drunk? You’re nearly him, but you’re too awake.”

Pelt glowered.

“Human. I’m working.”

“Really? You? I mean…”

Erin bit her lip. She remembered Pelt hammering on the Grasgil bardiche. After her fire—but this wasn’t that Pelt. Torn by grief and pride. This was—a mix between the Pelt she’d known, the grumpy alcoholic, and a working Pelt.

He wasn’t happy. But Pelt’s scowl indicated his entire forge.

“Have to earn money somehow, don’t I? And yes, I hired more apprentices. Less work for me, I realized. They do the hammering and so long as they don’t overheat the metal—”

He bellowed and all the [Smiths] jumped. They snatched their billets out of the fire and inspected them. Pelt looked at Erin.

“—I can do the finishing touches. Most metal—you don’t need to put a Skill into if the metal’s right. You just need to forge to shape, and even an idiot can do that. Well—probably.”

He glared at his team again. Erin put down her basket on an anvil. She began to unwrap her present.

“Uh huh. So…did you sell the Grasgil axe?”

“Of course. It got enchanted. Waste of potential; the idiot just added to the freeze. It’ll be a low Gold-rank adventurer’s weapon. But that’s how it works. Anyways, the city gave me some drinking funds. Idiots. But I spent some of it and this is the result.”

Pelt spoke briskly. He watched as Emessa brought back her billet and began to hammer it carefully. He glanced at Erin—one of his apprentices sniffed. The Dwarf, who had seen a lot of marvels of steelwork, stopped and stared.

“What is that abomination, Human?”

The—thing that Erin held was in theory, a sandwich. But it was mainly meat.

Meat, the best cuts she could find, some fried, others prepared in different ways. Bacon, salami, cuts of beef, pork, chicken—layered with mustard, mayonnaise, other condiments—and some onions and pepper too. Vegetables hadn’t been entirely banned from this concoction.

But it was madness. Heavy, too. A carnivore’s dream. Erin hefted it up and showed it to Pelt.

“I’m calling it a ‘Meat Supreme Sub’. Because it’s a lotta meat. I thought you’d like it?”

The Dwarf stared. The Drakes, and Gnolls both stared. One of the Dullahans gagged. But Pelt licked his lips slowly.

“You…made that?”

Erin beamed.

“Yup! Well—I thought of you, and Relc, and a few others. Most people shouldn’t eat this. Ever. But [Smiths] use up a lot of energy, right? Dawil loved meat stuff. So…want some? I know I’m not as good as Lasica is, but I can do food like this.”

She had cut the sandwich in half. Whatever that meant; you couldn’t bite it. Well—Beza could. But only just.

So could Pelt. The Dwarf picked up the sandwich, inspected the contents, and bit gingerly. He chewed as Erin watched. And chewed…and chewed…and swallowed.

“I think I will be sick.”

Maughin announced. But Pelt took another bite. A drooling Gnoll—Bealt—came over.

“Hey, Pelt. You’re getting Miss Erin to hand-deliver you food? Mind if I take a—”

Pelt kicked at him without a word. The [Farrier] retreated. The Dwarf kept eating as Erin watched. After a while, he stopped. The Dwarf eyed the sandwich, and then Erin’s smiling face.

“What?”

“You’ve got some on your beard.”

The [Blacksmith] snorted and kept eating.

“You’d be welcome in Dwarfhome, girl. Even the old Grandfathers would love you. What’s this, a bribe? It’s not worth a knife. If you want, I’ll smith you a set of those crap steel knives. But nothing made of a better metal. I want payment.”

He nodded at the ones on Erin’s side. She sat on a desk and kicked her legs.

“I don’t need another knife. I was just giving this to say sorry, honest. I’ve got something else, but I’d bother you with it, anyways.”

The Dwarf nearly snorted some of the sandwich out his nose. He coughed.

“Least you’re honest. So—what?”

“Mm. Tell me about your forge, first. This is amazing.”

“Why? I’m hiring apprentices and I added a few new additions. What—the anvils? That’s just protective magic and to help with the forging. These idiots—Pallass knows how to do a lot with steel, but they don’t know magical forging. I’d have been better off going to Chandrar or Baleros for that.”

The Dwarf’s voice carried. Bealt frowned as he investigated the other half of the sandwich. Pelt raised a hammer.

“I don’t think you can eat it all. Maybe share?”

Erin opined. The Dwarf eyed the sandwich and his stomach.

“Generous, aren’t you? Fine, give the food away. It’s not mine and it is…good.”

A grudging compliment. Erin beamed. Bealt grabbed the sandwich half and raced off with it. Half a dozen Gnolls pursued him. Erin idly watched as Pelt kept eating.

“So—do you feel better, then?”

“After you shamed me into remembering my craft? Guess. I’d rather jump off the 9th, but since I already thought about that years ago, I guess I have to actually work.”

The Dwarf put down his sandwich. Erin stopped kicking her feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? If I wasn’t ashamed, staring at your little cold flame wouldn’t have done a thing. Nor will I thank you. Since that damn cold flame might have lured all the Frost Wyverns here.”

The young woman paled. The Dwarf laughed and slapped his chest at the expression on her face.

“Hah! Got you! Anyways, if you’re just guilty, you can fuck off. What else did you want?”

He was rather like…Ivolethe. That was what Erin thought. And Pelt was still Pelt. Rough around the edges didn’t begin to describe him.

And yet, Erin liked him. His wounded heart shone brighter to her than Xrn’s deathly convictions. And—she took a breath.

“So you’re forging magic? Magic metal, I mean, like Grasgil?”

“That’s right. I have the knowing and I was banished, not forbidden. Hah—as if they could forbid us. Better slaughter us all. Pallass has a lot of steel-knowledge. Little of adamantium or greater metals. I’ll be forging magical blades. If I could stop these idiots from stealing everything!”

The Dwarf cursed and pointed. Maughin ducked his head back into his forge. So did half a dozen other [Smiths]. Erin grinned.

“Well, they’re curious. And you are a master?”

“Thieves is what they are. I’m almost tempted to smith one of the alloys and watch them kill themselves as it explodes on them. Or melts through their anvils. But—ah. Why am I telling you this? I’ll manage. And if I can’t go home, I can at least rule Pallass. Is any of my metal ready?”

The Dwarf snatched up a hammer. Emessa hurried over with a rough shape forged out of silver. Pelt eyed it and, with his hammer alone, began to delicately refine it. Erin realized he was looking at—a horn? But not a horn as in warhorn. A…

“I’ll live on damn mundane craft. Like this. Some Wistram nonsense. What’s this, a brass horn, only silver? Get me the drawing!”

Emessa already had it. Erin stared at a euphonium. Pelt scratched his head as he stared at the inner workings.

“Yeah. It’ll be a pain to shape. Appr—Emessa! Get me tubes this big. I’ll refine.”

He held up his fingers and his apprentice hurried back to continue work. Casually, stopping to heat the silver or whatever alloy he was using, Pelt continued working as he shouted at Erin.

“Thieves are the worst! But magic-forging isn’t easy to steal! Besides—Pallass is paying me, so where else can I perform my art?”

The young woman looked around thoughtfully. She saw some [Smiths] glancing at Pelt, but they were indeed more curious about his anvils, yet untouched. One of his apprentices kept glancing at a group of cases. His metals? The Dwarf cursed, shaping the metal. A master, pride at least regained.

And that was when she struck. That snake in the grass, the temptress in some proverbial Garden of Eden. The young, Human woman leaned over and whispered.

“You know…Liscor’s small and out of the way. And we have forges. I think.”

Pelt stopped hammering for a second. A few of the Gnoll [Smiths] glanced up. And Kel’s warning to the Watch Captains were too little, too late indeed.

The poison had taken root. The Dwarf narrowed his gaze and stroked his beard. He returned to hammering without a word. After a while he spoke, idly.

“Peh. And what would I get, anyways?”

“I dunno. But I have lots of alcohol. And it’s cheap. Plus—you could probably get your own forge. Liscor’s expanding. I bet they’d give you room.”

Erin Solstice smiled. And the [Smith] glanced up. He said nothing more. As alarm and a kind of anticipation spread across the 9th floor.

A harbinger of change. And more. Because Erin Solstice slowly dug in her pocket and pulled something out. Something she’d been meaning to ask about. And here was an expert. The expert.

“Say—this is the real reason I dropped by. Can you tell me what…this is? Someone gave it to me and I don’t know what it is.”

She handed Pelt a coin. Made of…a gleaming white-silver metal. Mithril, she’d been told, by another Dwarf. Erin relayed that to Pelt, but not the strange dream of a night when she had been given it. The Dwarf snorted as he put down the finished horn for the euphonium—it only needed some polishing to remove the scaling, but it was nearly perfectly shaped!

“Do you just ask every Dwarf you meet about metal, girl? Well—I suppose we know more than most. What…is this?”

Slowly, he turned over the coin in his hands. It was far larger than the coins of today. The size of her palm. And so delicately inscribed…but faded. Erin had always puzzled over it, wondering what the faded lettering and sigils on the coin were.

It was just something in the back of her head. An idle curiosity, and she had many. Like bikes. But Pelt held it now.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you knew. Dawil thought it was some old coin. Maybe a medallion or something fancy from another age?”

Pelt snorted.

“That idiot [Axe Champion]? He’s no [Smith]. But—this is monetary. I’d bet my hammer on it. You can tell the intent. Big—might have been worth a lot.”

“Might have been? You don’t know either?”

Erin was vaguely disappointed. Pelt flipped the coin over and eyed it.

“What am I, a [Historian]? You should have asked one of them. No. I have no idea what it is. Only—that it’s very old. So old that I doubt Humans lived on Izril in any numbers when it was made. No—older still.”

Erin held her breath.

“How old? Can you guess?”

The [Smith] cast her an annoyed glance.

“It’s a guess! Mithril doesn’t age like other metals. And as I said…the oldest of us might have identified it, but not me. Sorry, if you think it’s worth a fortune. Still…”

His brow furrowed. And the Dwarf slowly turned the coin over and over in his hands. And his face grew troubled. His voice dropped, and he spoke half to himself.

“Odd. Mithril shouldn’t wear like that.”

Erin frowned. And she felt a slight tingle on her arms. Because the more he looked at it, the more confused Pelt seemed to get. And—slightly unnerved, he put the coin down.

“I don’t know. I don’t know who made it. Who…gave you this?”

He looked at Erin. And she stared at him and realized. He had seen it before. Something had flashed across his face.

Distant recollection. A passing memory. But no more. Still—

She kept her voice neutral.

“A traveller. He wasn’t sure what it was worth. Why?”

“No reason. Hm.”

The Dwarf stared at the coin. He glanced up at Erin and casually turned as Emessa presented something that would become a valve for the euphonium.

“Leave it with me. I’ll work on it.”

“Work on it?”

Erin started. She stared at the Dwarf’s back as he got to work. He nodded, barely glancing at the mithril.

“It’s pure mithril, girl. Could be worth a lot. And I may not know what it was—but I can restore it. Whatever design and lettering it was—I’ll reveal it. Might lose a tiny bit of metal, but I doubt it. Come back in a few days and I’ll give it to you.”

“Really? Thanks!”

The young woman smiled. The Dwarf nodded absently.

“Are you done? Then get lost.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Human grinned at him as she took her basket. The Dwarf glanced up at her.

“So—this Liscor. If your inn’s nearby, that’s free alcohol, right? And what else do they have that’s worth it?”

“Cheap. And uh—well, Esthelm mines stuff. It’s connected to my inn. But it’s mostly just private, y’know?”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

The Dwarf turned away. Erin Solstice lingered a moment longer. And then she left. After all, this was just a small visit. An ordinary day. Not much happened on ordinary days.

—-

After a while, Numbtongue finished eating. He felt…bloated. Too much rich food. And Erin’s Supreme Meat…Meat Supreme Sub…hadn’t helped.

He was gaining weight. Which, for a Goblin, was a sign of status. Safety.

And still, the [Goblin Soulbard] was discontent. Not in general, or out of some longing to find more of his kind. He had decided to stay.

No, if anything, it was a bit of—jealousy. The Hobgoblin wandered out of the common room and into a hallway. There, he walked past Erin’s weights room, her rec room (now being filled with some kind of odd table she insisted would become a ‘pool’), and down the corridor.

There was a door at the end. It had not existed, oh, a day ago. But Antinium did good work. Numbtongue appreciated the door. The door had done nothing wrong to him. Doors were excellent, in fact. Cover, improvised weapons, magical portals—

A sign hung over the door.

Octavia’s Stitchworks. Numbtongue slowly opened the door. He looked inside. And sighed.

The [Alchemist] was out. But her shop was nearly complete. At least—it was a room and he, Numbtongue, had helped the Stitch-Girl move her equipment inside. Again, just the other day. Octavia still needed a few more shelves and places for her weird equipment.

But it looked like a store. Her new shop, just as promised. And Numbtongue expected the place would be full of smells and strange sights. Mrsha was banned from entering, incidentally.

And yet—Octavia was not. And the [Alchemist] usually lived in her shop. But she was gone. She was now an apprentice to Saliss of Lights. Saliss the Naked. Saliss—

Who wasn’t bad for a Named Adventurer. But still. Numbtongue idly sat on a counter. Octavia was a friend. More so than Drassi, who would talk with Numbtongue and not stare or be nervous.

Octavia was in the ranks of Erin, Lyonette, Yellow Splatters, Bird, and Mrsha. A group the Goblin could trust. And that she was gone was just annoying. Because Numbtongue found it was easiest to hang around her.

Lyonette was always bossy. Erin? Lovely, talkative, friendly—but she would ask to play chess. Numbtongue was sick of chess. And Yellow Splatters had his Hive. And Bird started going insane without a bird every few hours.

“Hm. Stupid Pallass.”

Numbtongue sat on the counter. He idly wondered what he’d do today. Pyrite, in his head, opined for mining rocks. The [Magestone Chieftain] could and had mined in the mountains for days at a time.

But the [Bard] was a more social creature than Pyrite. He sighed. If he had to do it, he had to do it. Pyrite had found a vein of rubies or something. He kept finding them. The High Passes were lousy with the stuff.

And just as Numbtongue was rising, he saw something. A little basket, on the counter. The Goblin paused. He saw a note. And it was addressed to him, on Octavia’s neat scrawl. The only neat thing about her, really.

Hi Numbtongue, sorry I’ve been so busy. But I’m actually leveling and learning so much from Master Saliss! Ten times more than I did in a year in Celum. So, these are for you. They’re all made by yours truly, with ingredients your stones paid for. Let me know how they work! I can make more!

–Octavia

And included in the basket were six vials. Numbtongue picked them out and sniffed at them. They were all stoppered with corks, and neatly labeled. He read from one label. Then another. And he began to grin.

Barkskin potion. Quickened Body potion. Vanish potion (14 seconds). Bat’s Ear potion (No loud sounds!). Potion of Jumping. Blast Vial (Do NOT drop).

Potions. Each one a lesser effect. Of the lot, Barkskin and the Vanish potion were the most powerful. Not very powerful. And that was because Octavia had made them. They even had times of how long each effect lasted.

And yet—it was a treasure trove to a Goblin, especially a Redfang Warrior. Numbtongue was grinning like a child as he put them on his belt for easy use. Because his dreams had come true.

Not even Silver-ranks could afford this kind of equipment. Some, the best-geared, could. And it was always nice when you looted their corpses and found potions like these. But this right here was an adventurer’s spread.

Octavia had fulfilled her promise. The Hobgoblin patted the blast vial, which had reinforced glass. You could do so much with these potions. A Vanish potion alone was worth everything to a Goblin. A single use of that and a Level 5 [Skulker] could, at the right moment, drop a [Mage] in the middle of casting. And Blast Vials?

Relatively weak if thrown—except if you made a Level 30 [Warrior] swallow one. In a sense, Numbtongue and his tribe were the most efficient potion-users in the world. You had to be, when your species couldn’t manufacture these things.

The Goblin happily reminisced for a moment. But then he was bored again. Now-equipped, he supposed it was time to go into the mountains. He would have liked to take Octavia. But maybe Bird…?

The Hobgoblin walked back into the common room. And there—his adventure in the mountains died, like Erin’s dreams of brewing alcohol. Because, lying on the ground, arms and legs splayed out, on her back, was a white Gnoll.

She stared up at the ceiling as Numbtongue paused. Lyonette tsked as she tried to nudge Mrsha.

“Mrsha! Stop lying there! You’re going to be stepped on! I know you’re bored, sweetie. Why don’t you play in the garden?”

The Gnoll turned her head. Garden? But what about people to play with? She stared up at the ceiling.

No Relc today. No Ekirra or Visma; they were too busy helping their parents. No Selys. Mrsha stared up at the ceiling, willing something exciting to happen.

A green face appeared in her line of vision. Numbtongue leaned over Mrsha thoughtfully. The Gnoll stared up at him.

Her tail began to wag. The Hobgoblin looked thoughtfully at the bored Gnoll. Then he reached down.

“Hmm?”

She stood up and grabbed his hand. And thus, Mrsha the Great and Powerful, found the Great Goblin Bard, Numbtongue had come to rescue her from her prison of boredom!

“Oh—Numbtongue. Will you take care of Mrsha? That would help out so much!”

“Sure.”

The Hobgoblin grinned at Mrsha. She grinned back and happily pointed. They ran into the garden, playing tag. Mrsha raced around, and saw Numbtongue sprinting after her. She raced off, delightfully terrified. And the Goblin dove after her. He didn’t play games when he played games.

The two crashed through the jungle section. Mrsha dodged and Numbtongue slammed into a tree, full-force as she swerved just in time. The Goblin cursed and something fluttered down from the tree.

Apista, stinger ready to attack, saw the big green thing just in time and aborted her vengeful dive. Numbtongue ducked as she zoomed past his head. And Mrsha, coming back to check on him, saw the bee flying.

Upside-down. She zoomed around lazily; she’d been taking a nap in the tree. And Mrsha saw/smelled the odor in the air.

One of Palt’s cigars. She folded her arms disapprovingly as Numbtongue sniffed the air as well. Apista was weird. Again!

The bee had a problem. She’d sip from the faerie flower’s nectar, or steal a Palt-cigar. Or just steal alcohol from a mug after chasing away the owner. Lyonette told Mrsha it was probably Apista being…Apista.

But Mrsha wasn’t so certain. She was a [Druid], but she’d also been a [Beast Tamer]. For a level or two! And she followed Apista as the bee flew around lazily. Numbtongue climbed up into the tree and retrieved the cigar. He began to puff on it—to make sure Apista wouldn’t get high again. He was very helpful like that.

Apista let Mrsha scoop her up. Her antennae were moving around lazily. And her thoughts were—muddled. Mrsha peered down at her.

Something was wrong. Mrsha had felt it before. Beneath Apista’s hazy thoughts, the young [Druid] sensed—something. Apista could not speak. But then, neither could Mrsha. And her class was giving her another sense. And because Mrsha could not speak, she listened more.

Apista was unhappy. That was why she was always going away in her mind. The realization made Mrsha’s eyes widen. Something was wrong. She lifted the bee up, put her on top of her head to better commune with nature.

Numbtongue, puffing away on the remains of the cigar, watched Mrsha communing. She stood on one leg and raised her paws to the sky. It looked entertaining, so he copied her. Apista tried to do the same.

Mrsha scowled at the mockery. But then—she felt the flash again. Something…she concentrated, going serious for once.

This wasn’t like the magic book which Mrsha hated so much. This was her class. This was Apista, her friend. And—slowly, she began to feel something.

Sadness. Pain. Worry. A bee’s thoughts, so distant. Alien in her way.

Mrsha asked. Why? A picture appeared in her head.

A cave. Sealed with stone. Darkness. Lack of good air. Hunger. Hunger in the darkness and the knaves from below. Danger.

Danger.

Mrsha’s eyes opened wide. She knew what Apista was trying to tell her.

The cave. And Apista could do nothing. That was why she was upset!

The bee fluttered up. Mrsha watched Apista attacking Numbtongue for his cigar. She needed her fix. He fended her off, cursing as she threatened to attack him with her enhanced stinger. But Mrsha waved her paws for the Goblin’s attention.

“Bad thing! Bad thing! Must help!”

She signed with her paws. Instantly, the Goblin stopped avoiding the bee. He handed the cigar off and squatted down.

Erin and Lyonette weren’t good at Mrsha-language. But Numbtongue and Bird were.

“What bad thing? Monsters?”

“No. Apista sad. Bad cave. Go. Fix!”

Mrsha pointed urgently at the bee. Numbtongue frowned.

“Bad cave? Oh. Bees. Sealed inside. Dying?”

She nodded urgently. And something else. Numbtongue hesitated. He glanced at Apista.

“Bees are dangerous.”

And yet—both looked at Apista. She had lit the cigar, turning her body to flame for a moment. And the bee sadly smoked as she carried the cigar butt through the air. Look at her. And Mrsha looked up pleadingly at Numbtongue.

The Hobgoblin thought. Then he looked around. He made a quick calculation, and then nodded surreptitiously.

“Make the Garden door go to my room?”

Mrsha raced over to the door. She was best at using it besides Erin. The doorway’s entrance appeared in Numbtongue’s room. He walked into it. Came out with a pickaxe, and shovel. Mrsha watched, anxiously.

Numbtongue nodded to himself. He began to walk towards the door and stairs—and then he looked back. He saw Mrsha anxiously holding the smoking bee in her paws.

And this was where the Hobgoblin differed from Erin and Lyonette. He walked back over to his window instead. Opened it. He climbed out onto the roof. And then he waved at Mrsha.