They arrived home after nightfall.

As Lori had feared, drafting four copies of the agreement had been time consuming and painful. It had gone faster after the first one had been finished and she could just copy that, but remembering all the details had been difficult. So she'd just written down the details she remembered—the ones that favored her—Shanalorre had interjected with the details she remembered, and when it was all written down, both of them had been satisfied with what they read, so it had at the last been… agreeable.

It had also taken until almost midafternoon, and Shanalorre had been obliged to provide lunch as well. Lori had at least been able to tell Rian to get Lori's Boat packed and ready to go, and to make sure the reparations from Shanalorre for yesterday's assault was on the boat. Her lord had tried to ask why she was getting six sacks of fruit, but Lori had waved him off, busy drafting the agreement, and he'd relented his inquiries to get all the people they'd brought with them together.

So it wasn't until midafternoon that the almost overburdened former barge was underway. It had an outrigger for stability now, and three waterjets made from bone for thrust. Everyone fit, as well as all the loot—er, reparations—though Lori had to wonder how so many had managed to row using the oars now stacked on one end of the boat. There was the doctor who had come with them, the youngest and chosen because among the doctors and medics they'd had, he weighed the least. Then there'd been the six other people, all young men with large arms who had apparently rowed non-stop, and then with brief rest shifts so they could row in the night.

Now all those men were all sleeping where there was space, leaning on each other's backs so they wouldn't fall into the water as Lori powered the water jets and, once it started getting dark, the binding of lightwisps that cast light ahead of them while Rian operated the tiller. It was actually a familiar arrangement, from the month they'd spent bringing people up to Lori's Demesne to reunite with their families.

The village came into sight not that long into sunset and for the first time in a long while, Lori saw her demesne at night.

The outside dining hall, entrance to the Dungeon, and the two bathhouses glowed with light. Her lightwisps at work. This time she hadn't deactivated them, and had all been heavily imbued, so they hand't run out while she'd been… indisposed. The houses were dark, people obviously asleep, and so there was no one to greet them as Lori's Boat beached itself on the shore, and Lori deactivated the water jets.

For a moment, there was silence but for the sound of the river and the wind.

"We're home," Rian said redundantly in a quiet voice.

Ignoring his silliness, Lori reach out to the rock beneath them and created a long, jutting finger of rock behind the boat that she slowly, gently moved so it pushed them a little bit more ashore. The sound of the boat dragging on the rocks and ground beneath it roused the sleeping men, who looked around blearily.

"We're home, everyone," Rian said cheerfully. "Though I think we missed dinner. Come on, everybody off so we can all take a bath. I don't think we'll be allowed back in if we don't at least wash up. "

Blearily, in the light of the moons—all four were out tonight, making it quite bright, with multicolored shadows—the men stumbled out of the boat. They had no packs or anything of the sort, merely the clothes off their backs. The only things on the boat were Rian's bedroll, furled tightly so as not to come loose, some empty jars of rations, Rian's bags which contained the unopened jars, and Lori's sacks of reparations. They made to pull the boat further ashore, but saw it wasn't needed. For a moment, they looked around in some confusion, as if wondering why the demesne was so empty.

Rian coughed and drew their attention. "Well men,' he said with a cheer that rang hollow and silly in the empty night around them. "We made it back home, and our Binder didn't die. So I guess that's our epic quest accomplished." He began to clap his hands together in bizarre self-applause. It seemed to rouse the men however, and they all joined in, despite how absurd an image it was, eight men applauding nothing in the dark, lit only by the moons and the lightwisps that were still bound to the front of the boat. "Now we can all go to sleep and figure out what tall tales we tell everyone else tomorrow. Remember, agree with everyone else's story, but don't make it too big, we want it to be believable even if nothing happened. So, if anyone asks, we fought only three beasts, not more, all right?"

There was sudden laughter at this, as everyone seemed to find the idea agreeable for some reason.

Rian clapped his hands once more to get everyone's attention. "Get some sleep, everyone. And if you don't feel like it, rest tomorrow. You've earned it."

There were no cheers, but there was a tone of genial agreement. And despite the fact they'd been sleeping all afternoon and part of the evening, the men moved with weariness as they walked back towards their homes. They didn't seem to notice as Rian relaxed and let his shoulders slump tiredly.

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"Wait."

She spoke softly, almost timidly, as if hoping she wasn't heard… but she was. Then men slowed, and then turned as if just noticing her.

Lori had remained sitting in the corner of the boat, where she could power the water jets. Now she stood and gingerly climbed down from the boat, her feet crunching on rock. They looked at her as she straightened and faced them. They didn't look at her nervously or warily, just… tiredly, as if they wondered what she wanted. Some seemed to notice the sacks on the boat and barely concealed a wince, likely expecting to be told to carry.

Lori did not cough. She wasn't nervous. She didn't need it. The deep breath she took was simply so she could speak, not to settle her nerves. "Thank you for helping save my life." In plays, there was usually some gesture involved. Someone bowed, sometimes knelt, but that was just theatrical flourish. There was no actual societal convention beyond bowing to the Binder as an act of submission to her power. So Lori did not bow. That was literally beneath her now, as Binder. But she might have nodded her head slowly. "May I have your names?"

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Carrying a large sack of heavy fruit as she was, since she didn't know where any of the demesne's wheeled carts were, Lori was in no mood for Rian's nonsense. Fortunately, beyond a sigh and a muttered, "Why me… oh, right," when she'd told him to stay and help her get her sacks of reparation fruit out of the boat, Rian was remaining quiet. Which was very helpful, since she was busy repeating the same seven names under her breath.

Samoth.

Royin.

Sani.

Cymbelry Mason.

Tamas.

Arto Smith.

Rafel.

She hated doing this. It was a pointless waste of memory.

Samoth.

Royin.

Sani.

Cymbelry Mason.

Tamas.

Arto Smith.

Rafel.

The Dungeon was brightly lit and empty, the floors swept and the cooking surfaces clean. Rian moved to deposit the sack on the nearest table, but Lori said, "Not there, follow me," and began climbing up the stairs to her room, the stone blocking it flowing into the floor and making it a bit thicker.

"Huh," Rian said, his voice echoing slightly in the short hallway. "So this is your secret private room. It's… nothing at all like the rumors said, and exactly what I thought it would be. Ah, I see you still have your sacrificial altar. Should I be concerned for my safety?"

"Shut up and put the sack down," Lori said grumpily, then winced as her sequence of thought was disrupted. She started repeating the names again.

Samoth.

Royin.

Sani.

Cymbelry Mason.

Tamas.

Arto Smith.

Rafel.

Was that right?

"Maybe you should write it down?" Rian suggested brightly.

"Shut up and get the next sack," she said.

He smirked for some reason and left.

When she came down, he was already coming back holding a sack. Lori made him wait, as she didn't want someone going into her room without her, and got another sack from the boat, then laboriously carried it back to where Rian had stopped to wait, and they went back to her room together. He looked around the room as if looking something, but Lori didn't indulge him. Instead, she dragged him back, and the retrieved the last of the sacks.

"Need me for anything else?" Rian asked as he put to down the sack next to the others.

"How many rations do you still have on the boat?"

Rian frowned, trying to recall. "Three, I think."

"Bring them downstairs, I need dinner, and I might as well feed you while I'm at it," Lori said.

"Yes, your Bindership," Rian said cheerfully.

He came back with his bag over his shoulder and his bedroll under his arm, putting them on another table as be brought the three jars to Lori. Rian had been very ready to bring her to River's Fork, Lori realized in hindsight. They had left seemingly as soon as possible, and yet had jars of fresh rations prepared…

"What did you eat on the way downriver?" she asked as Rian came back with utensils raided from the kitchen. They seemed clean…

"Happyfruits," Rian said as she heated the jars of stew with firewisps. "Two of us would stop rowing and eat in shifts. It was a lot of hard work getting you there without the waterjets, so it was nice you let them know you appreciated it."

Lori shrugged negligently. "As you said, it was a group effort. Who do the clothes I was wearing belong to?"

"Umu and Mikon, though I don't know who gave what. Actually, I'm not even sure it's theirs," Rian said. "I just asked them if they could find some clothes in your size because I didn't want to try mining into your room to get your own."

So it probably belonged to them, since they'd want to impress this oblivious idiot. It was quite sad, really.

"Give it to me," Lori said. "I'll return it."

Rian blinked. "Do you even know who Umu and Mikon are?"

Lori did not answer that with the punch to the face it deserved. Instead, she held out a hand. "I need to wash it," she said.

"Well… all right. If you say so."

Yes. She did indeed say so.

The rations finished warming. Lori took two for herself, and left the other for Rian as she popped it open and began to eat.

She would need the energy. She still had things to do.

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Lori finally lay in bed, very tired. The time was probably closer to sunrise than sunset. Still, she was done.

On her table, which was definitely not an altar of any sort, lay several newly made bowls, all full of fruit from her reparations. There were pink ladies, golden buds, and micans, all fruits they didn’t have in her demesne. She'd done her best to make each bowl look polished, and a different name had been carved on the rim of each bowl.

They were the same names she'd carved on the ceiling over her bed, and which she was staring at now.

Samoth.

Royin.

Sani.

Cymbelry Mason.

Tamas.

Arto Smith.

Rafel.

Umu.

Mikon.

Daising.

Tackir.

Deil.

Tomorrow, she'd have to find a way to subtly extract from Rian the names of the ones who'd carried her to the hospital. Subtly. If he realized what she was doing, he'd become annoying because of silly expectations.

For now, Lori dimmed the lights and went to sleep, her room filled with the smell of fruit, and the sound of her breathing and dripping laundry in the bathroom.