The performance was over, and on the stage, actors in various states of undress mingled freely, chattering and laughing. Glasses of wine were raised in a series of unending and increasingly flamboyant toasts, and some of the already rosy-cheeked musicians struck up a playful tune.

Renau had somehow completed another magical change of clothing and now wore a loose-fitting, bright outfit that showed his bare chest. He floated around the room like some kind of exotic butterfly, embracing actors, laughing, and complimenting them. It struck Konrad that this might be the first time he was seeing the real Reanu.

"Konrad."

"Serena?" Konrad replied loudly, startling a young actress nearby.

He looked around, but the stern-looking witch was nowhere to be seen.

"You can’t reply to this message, but I want you to know that Rolo and I are safe. Well, safe enough. We’re being held by Rolo’s brother, Luther. Neither Renau nor Spirit are with us."

There was a pause before Serena spoke again, and her frustration was evident in her tone. "Why would I tell him that, Rolo? These messages aren’t unlimited, you know."

…

"Rolo wants me to tell you that his brother is a scheming bastard. Are you happy, Rolo? Perhaps you’ll allow me to continue."

…

"Konrad, I would tell you to flee and leave us here, but Rolo and I have decided that you probably won’t do that, so listen closely. Rolo and I are being held in the eastern wing of the Thane’s mansion. We are not being treated too poorly, although Rolo tried to fight his brother and now has a broken nose. In fact, the room is actually quite nicely appointed if you like lots of animal heads staring at you while you sleep."

…

"Just because they are cultural, Rolo, doesn’t mean that people are obliged to like them. Will you let me finish this?" Serena snapped.

…

"Rolo’s father is under guard at his ancestral home along the coast; it’s a half-day walk from here in a place called Monthome. His father’s name is Balthazar; go there and tell him about what’s happened—the mountain, the Linium, all of it. Tell him to get ships and be ready to sail. Luther found the Liniuim we brought from the mountain; Rolo told him that it was a part of their old reserves, but we don’t think we convinced him. You’ll have to break us out of here. Rolo said his father might have some ideas. Be careful, Konrad, and remember, there’s no shame in leaving us here; you have your own adventures, and Rolo says that his brother won’t harm us."

…

"Probably won’t harm us. I hope you’re okay. You must be alive or this message wouldn’t work."

The volume in the room around him seemed to rush back in as the spell faded.

"Konrad, you must meet Wexler," Renau exclaimed.

Konrad snapped out of the disembodied conversation as Renau approached with the young man who had played Ostred on stage. He had a young, boyish face with a strong chin and a mouth full of large, white teeth. He looked every inch a champion of the gods, and although it was warm, Konrad tugged self-consciously at his heavy coat to cover his battered leather breastplate and tattered homespun clothes.

"Renau, I just got a message from Serena," Konrad began.

"Renau? How certifiably vulgar of you, Delaney," Wexler exclaimed.

"Delaney?" Konrad asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wexler wore an impish grin. "He didn’t tell you? It’s his family name, Ignatious Delaney, and a very fine name it is too, though he refuses to use it. He prefers to play the rogue, don’t you, Igni?"

"Renau… I mean, Ignatious. Serena, and Rolo are prisoners at the fortress, we have to go and help them."

"It’s okay, Konrad. Wexler knows everything that happens in this city, that’s why we’re here."

"Part of our troupe performed for the Thane this evening, and your friends were spotted in the audience," Wexler supplied. "I quote: ‘A severe looking young witch with braided hair, and a brooding young northman with a broken nose, both under guard’."

"Wexler and his troupe are going to help us with our little problem," Renau said.

Konrad glanced at the assembled actors, clinking small glasses and chattering around them. He didn’t know these people, and although he was growing to trust Renau, he remembered how ready he had been to leave the city and abandon their companions.

"Oh, don’t mind them," Wexler said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We’re all very discreet here. But first of all, you’re really a champion?"

Renau gave Konrad an encouraging nod.

"I only just started, really, but yes, I’m a champion."

"Wonderful, what did you think of my Ostred performance, you know, from a professional point of view?" Wexler asked.

The only acting Konrad had seen was Fra Dun’s puppet show in the village. There had been a small theater in the main town of Fallow Vale, but it certainly didn’t allow Clods in. "I haven’t seen anything like that before—" Konrad began.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"You hear that Igni? A real live champion said he’s ‘never seen anything like it before’," Wexler gushed.

"High praise," Renau replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

"It would be an honor for the Montdun chapter of the Parthanea Players to aid you champion. What do you need?" Wexler asked.

"Serena told me that they’re being held in the east wing of the Thane’s mansion, and she also told me to get a message to Rolo’s father; he might be able to help us."

"It’s not going to be easy to get to the old Thane. When Luther took over, he had Balthazar placed under house arrest," Wexler said.

"What happened?" Renau asked.

"Well, it was quite the scandal," Wexler began, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Luther gained enough support to have his father removed as Thane. Then a few days later Siantir arrives, and Luther sells them all of the Linium reserves in the city."

"Siantir?" Konrad asked.

"It’s one of the arcanist’s flying citadels," Renau explained. "He sold it all? They must be drowning in gold."

"Why do you think we are in such high spirits, my dear Igni? We played for a week to the arcanists in their citadel. All of the classics: The Fall of Tiberius, The Lost City of Mir, and, of course, The Labours of Ostred. Then, when they left, the whole town was so rich, we’ve been playing to a full house every night!"

Renau smoothed his small, pointed beard. "Then we have the beginnings of a plan. Konrad, you should go to Rolo’s father and give him your message. I’ll stay here with Wexler and begin gathering information; we‘ll have to come up with a fine performance to get them out."

"A prison break, like Thania in The Scrolls of Parthanea," Wexler cried.

Konrad looked dubiously at the two actors, who were standing arm in arm, holding their fine crystal glasses of wine.

"I see doubt in your eyes, young champion, but know this, ‘Konrad’ might mean bold in the old tongue, but you will never meet a bolder, more skilled, or more loyal group than The Parthanea Players. We’ll walk your friends right out of the front door," Wexler declared.

As much as Konrad had his doubts about the troubadour's ability to help him free his friends, there was something about his charm and confidence that drew him in.

"That’d be something to see," Konrad replied with a grin. "I’m going straight to Rolo’s father."

"Not so fast," Renau said, grabbing his arm. "The night is young. Serena, and Rolo are not in immediate danger, and you’ll not want to miss this."

"Make this champion a champion!" Wexler ordered, and Konrad was whisked away by a group of laughing actors, with Spirit barking and jumping alongside him.

A rack of clothing was produced, and some time later Konrad emerged clad in fine leather armor from head to foot. A sleek green hat sat on his head; at his waist hung the white sword of the mother; and on his shoulder was the floppy owl Hendra.

Spirit bounded out next to him, wearing an unruly shaman's headdress with fine, colorful bird feathers sticking out at odd angles. A ring of small bells around her neck tinkled as she leapt around.

"You look very fine, Konrad, though I am certifiably regal," Renau called.

Konrad might have been given an actor's clothing, but Renau knew how to wear it. He emerged in the full garb of a king of the land, holding himself with a regency that made Konrad stare open-mouthed.

The crown sparkled and the rings shimmered as Reanu gazed down benevolently and extended his arm toward Konrad, who caught himself just before he bent to kiss the proffered hand.

"Nearly had you," Renau said with a wink.

The band struck up a flighty tune, and the wine flowed freely. Scenes from famous plays that Konrad had only half heard of were acted out with laughter and applause in equal measure. The actors were formidable, but none more so than Ignatious Delaney. Each time he appeared in a new costume, he transformed into a unique character, with accents and mannerisms that had Wexler and the Parthanea Players howling with delight and crowing for more.

-

In the blue hours of the morning, Konrad slipped out of the city and made his way along the frozen coast. The stars winked out one by one as the light of a new day chased the darkness to the south.

He realized that he hadn’t been alone very much since he left Fallow Vale, and in the unending snow-covered terrain that surrounded him, he felt this keenly. But then again, he was never really alone.

"Spirit," he called.

Gentle flakes of snow began to drift down around him, and he felt as if time had stood still, creating a silent land forever caught between day and night. His resistance to cold was almost absolute now, but for comfort, he pulled Edna’s woolen hat down over his ears.

"Spirit," he called again, and in reply, he heard a voice on the wind, or perhaps inside his head.

"Ride my noble steed!"

"Avram?"

The lithe form of Spirit materialized in front of him, and he could tell she wasn’t happy. Riding on her back and clutching her ears was the small god of the long night.

Spirit tried to shake Avram off, but he clung tightly around her neck. Finally, she lay down and rolled over in the snow, so that Avram was flung off.

"You have served me well, shadow beast; now begone until I have need of you again."

Spirit swatted at Avram with a paw, and he tumbled backwards, his hood slipping from his head and revealing a face lost in writhing shadows.

"Avram, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that, Champion. My first quest is far to the east, you haven’t even started it."

"You haven’t given it to me yet; you disappeared after you told me to save Renau."

Avram clicked his fingers. "I remember now, well you better get moving fast; you’ve got a lot to do."

"But I’m not done here; I have to rescue my friends."

"Lyran’s telling anyone who will listen about her new temple, Casovan is off looking to reinvent himself, and I get, 'Wait until I’ve helped my friends’."

The small figure seemed to shrink slightly. "You don’t know what it's like up there, the other gods are unbearable. I’m not saying that I was one of the greats, but I used to be pretty important, and now they won’t even so much as let me look at the fates."

Konrad knelt down beside Avram and tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it was like trying to touch drifting smoke. "I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to say it wasn’t important to me. I’ll be done here as soon as I can; what’s the quest?"

"It all stared at the choosing feast. I got stuck sitting next to Hespian; he’s a minor god of sleep, and you can’t imagine how incredibly dull he is, always yawning and dozing off all the time. He was being exceptionally rude, telling everyone that I needed to move with the times and that the long night hasn’t even existed for thousands of years."

As Avram spoke, his outline began to gradually fade. Konrad gently pointed this out, and the small god spoke faster.

"I made a bet with him; I shouldn’t have, but he was being so smug."

"What was the bet?"

"There’s a golden idol on an island off of the western cape of Parthanea; I need you to get it for me."

"Good thing I have a boat already; what’s the island called?"

"The island of the Witch King."

"That sounds a little more difficult."

"Hespian’s also sent his own champion to get it; I’m afraid they’ve got quite a head start on you."

Konrad had never heard of the western cape, but if you could get there by boat, he was sure Briarstone would know where it was. Renau had promised to take him on his next quest, but given his apparent aversion to magic, Konrad made a mental note not to mention a Witch King.

"I’ll go to this island and retrieve the idol; you can count on me."

Avram clapped his hands. "I knew you were the champion for us, right from the very start; never a doubt in my mind."

The small god looked down and saw that his form was at risk of vanishing completely, the early morning sunlight shining through him.

"Just remember you need that trouper to get to the idol; I can’t see everything, but I know he’s important."

"What’s so special about him?"

"Isn’t it obvious? He’s—"

"He’s what?" Konrad cried, but Avram had vanished.