Explaining everything that happened to Justisius was a quick process. He had made an appointment to speak with the sultan, but it wouldn’t happen until the morning due to the ruler’s busy schedule. With the dungeon gone, he didn’t plan on staying much longer than he needed to.

So, as the sun was going down, we headed out. The desert went from scorching hot to chilling cold at night, and it was going to be a lot easier for Moose this way. The animal felt at home in blizzards, so an environment like the desert during the day would have likely killed him if he had to make a trip across the sands.

Our guides, a pair of Dwarves named Hatenbrow and Kitzkin, had been against the idea of traversing the desert at night until we had greased their palms with a few additional coins, and after that they were full of advice and wisdom. We purchased extra clothes, each of us wearing thick layers to help retain the heat. It was going to be slow going, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about that. We were ready for a long trip.

The wagon was fairly large and pulled by a team of camels. They each wore blankets and were plodding easily through the sands. Not scared by the darkness, but definitely cautious. It seemed as though they were trained to follow the path of light that Kitzkin cast in front of them with a lantern. Hatenbrow slept next to him.

I sat inside of a hastily insulated wagon with Ferrisdae and went through the documents we had stolen. The candlelight wasn’t ideal, but it did its job. We divided the papers into two piles: one that was written in Imperial Standard and the other written in the other continent’s runes. It didn’t make sense to have my junior attempt to decipher them when I was slowly starting to understand, even without magic.

Dalsarel, being comfortable in the night, sat on the roof above as she looked out for any threats the desert might throw at us, even though most things were sleeping. Cojisto opted to ride Moose, keeping his friend company. None of us argued with that, and even expected it, really.

It wasn’t long into the ride when I sighed and put down the paper I was reading to look at Ferrisdae. She looked tired and, after all the excitement, I couldn’t blame her. There was something on my mind now that we were alone, though.

“I want to talk about what happened earlier,” I said.

Ferrisdae jumped at the sound of my voice, the first time I had spoken in nearly an hour, and she nodded when she saw the look on my face. “I know, I was completely unprofessional towards Dalsarel as a Junior Dungeon Inspector,” she said nervously. “I grew up in a family of adventurers, many of whom tried really hard to remove Matriarch Akshashka from the quarry. That’s no excuse, really; I should strive to be impartial. I’ve already taken steps and apologized to her. I promise I won’t let it come back up again.”

The more she spoke, the deeper I frowned. That had been something I had waved off. Propaganda was an effective tool, even if you were as smart as Ferrisdae. Learning that behavior from your family also meant it was ingrained from an early age. All in all, it had been rather tame compared to many of the conflicts between Dark and Forest Elves I had witnessed or heard about. Maybe it was because they were both young, relatively speaking, but I wasn’t ready nor willing to dive into that.

“I’m rude to people all the time, do you really think that’s what I’m referring to?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I just mean, if I become a full Dungeon Inspector I’m going to have to watch myself for stuff like that, is all,” she said.

“When, not if,” I corrected.

Ferrisdae put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I guess that’s been guaranteed already, hasn’t it?” she asked softly.

“By your merits, yes, and not by your mother’s coin,” I said before sighing. “I suppose if you want to talk about that, then we can.”

“You’ll hate every minute of it.”

“Yeah, I will,” I agreed. “I do think that speaking with your mother will probably go a long way. But enough about that, what I was really referring to was the fact that your magic fizzled on you back when we were fighting Abara and the Blackwood Queen.”

“Ah, yeah, that,” Ferrisdae said, looking down at her lap as she put her hands together.

“Yes, that,” I repeated. “You also didn’t cast any spells when you were held captive. I know your Shooting Star spell could have made short work of the cages and the guards and that’s not even mentioning whatever spell you used when I was fighting Razorbeak.”

“I could only do that because you were in danger from Swiftfeather, and using that magic almost killed me,” she said. “I’m not keen on the idea of casting it again.”

“That’s fair,” I conceded with a nod. “But your big moment in your escape was to get a guard in a chokehold and bash him with his own helmet. That’s not even a fraction of your real power, Ferrisdae. I may not have seen you cast a lot recently, but I’ve been around a lot of mages in my time. You would wipe the floor with the vast majority of them.”

Ferrisdae released a long breath. “I know I messed things up,” she whispered. “I would understand if you wanted to let me go or pawn me off on another Dungeon Inspector.”

My eyes narrowed. The dejected look on her face was terrible to witness, but what made me angry was how easily she was willing to roll over and give up. This kid who was so damn bright, smart, and powerful, just taking life’s blows without returning them.

I had seen this problem before with sorcerers and sorceresses. Their spellcasting came from within and it had just as much to do with their state of mind as it did the mana in their wellspring. Right now, her sense of self was fractured. Things she thought were her accomplishments alone might have been helped out by others.

It was honestly an ugly mood, but it was temporary. Ferrisdae had a long life ahead of her, and I believed she would be fine.

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Don’t be fucking dense.”

“E-excuse me?” she stuttered, looking at me with wide eyes.

“I said, don’t be fucking dense,” I repeated, deciding to roll with it. “Look, I think it’s obvious at this point that you’ve been dealt a really good hand for most of your life and then an absolutely terrible one the moment you started working at the Department of Dungeons. That’s how life goes sometimes. First, you’re a prodigy, and then you get to the real world and things just don’t go your way. It happens, but you need to get a grip on yourself.”

“Yeah, but-” she began, but I held a hand up and she stopped.

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“You’re rattled,” I continued. “You’ve been off your game since the Dungeon Master, but you’re trying. Even though you found yourself without magic, you still followed orders. You still helped. Could we have taken out Abara back in the karst if you were able to get your spells working? Maybe, maybe not; he’s clearly more capable than we were hoping he would be.”

Sighing, I shook my head. “I’m not going to let you go. I’m never going to pawn you off. I want you to know that. Really know it,” I told her honestly.

“But what if we get into another situation like that and I still can’t cast?” she asked.

“Well, this is the part you’re not going to like: until you prove yourself capable of handling those situations, then you can’t come with me on anything I deem too dangerous,” I said. She froze for a moment before giving me a slow nod, accepting my words. “That’s for both your safety and my own. If someone decides to attack you and I have to protect you, then that puts us both at risk.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

That wasn’t the right answer, just more rolling over, but I didn’t think pushing her was the correct move at this point in time.

“Good. Because as long as you’re trying, then you have a place at the Department of Dungeons. We would be lesser for your absence. Plus, I know you’ll get it back eventually.”

It took longer for her to nod this time, but she did.

“Do you want to talk about your… family issues?” I offered, trying to keep my face neutral.

“No, we’ve got enough to go through without delving into that,” she said, looking down at the stack of documents we still hadn’t touched. “But thank you. I appreciate the lengths you’re willing to go through to help. Ya big softy.”

“Yeah, well, the family likes you so you’re probably not too bad,” I grumbled. Ferrisdae smiled, small but now genuine, and picked up the paper I was holding on to. “I’m slowly figuring out what these runes mean, but it’s still pretty frustrating.”

“I’m honestly surprised that you’re learning it at such a quick rate, even with the Dungeon Master’s help,” she said. I shot her a glare, and she put her hand up. “Yes, I know what he did was invasive, and you know that I know that. But, like you said, it’s helpful.”

My eyes softened, and I nodded. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s frustrating.”

“I get you, Badger. Have you managed to figure anything out yet?” she asked.

“I’m on the cusp of something, but I haven’t made a breakthrough just yet,” I answered, picking up a few pages that I set aside.

These ones, which had all been stuck to the walls, mentioned the dungeons of Athir and how they were connected. Or going to be connected. Or how they were going to stop being connected.

I frowned just thinking about it. Only grasping some of the words at a time was going from frustrating to absolutely pissing me off. The ritual circle Abara was trying to turn Athir into was bigger than anything that I had seen before. Most needed some kind of magical ignition to start it off, but if he had any more of those amber crystals lying around, then he had it.

“You’ll get there, we have plenty of time before we make it to Alashroe,” Ferrisdae soothed. “Then there’s getting our mana back, conferring with Brack, and gods know what else. If rushing it doesn’t help, then don’t rush it.”

“Very Elven of you,” I said before I nodded towards her stack of papers. “Find anything important in your stack yet?”

“Some,” she said, picking up a stack she had kept separated. “I’m finding correspondence letters from Athir, Crystal Snows, Berald, and New Frausta. Nobody who’s name rings a bell.”

I furrowed my brow. “What kind of things from Athir and New Frausta?”

“For Athir, most of the names clearly aren’t Elvish,” she said, picking up one of the documents. “Onstan, Patopolas, Deeg. I recognize some of them as dungeon owners, though not all.”

“That makes sense. While the cult is powerful, having enough dungeons end up like the Red Thicket would bring a lot of attention that they probably wouldn’t like,” I mused, stroking my chin. “It would have been easy for them to go the same route as the Dungeon Master. Meet, negotiate, and assimilate. Just so long as it’s in name only.”

“Yeah, and with an Inspector on their side, they can make it all seem legitimate, too,” Ferrisdae added.

“A Junior Dungeon Inspector,” I corrected. “I still think it’s one of Liddy’s rookies, not her. I refuse to believe it’s her.”

“Really?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “She’s always seemed really aloof to me. Not really someone to trust when the chips are down.”

I shook my head. “Liddy’s always had a problem with getting bored too easily and taking shortcuts when she can, but she’s loyal to a fault when it comes to her friends and the department. There’s a reason why she’s so highly regarded despite her attitude. Slow to move, but once she does so she’ll stop at nothing to fix a problem with as much prejudice as she could muster,” I said before frowning. “Unless she finds the task fun and exciting, then she likes to play cat and mouse.”

Ferrisdae snorted. “You think that’s why she hasn’t caught the wizard yet?”

“Now that I’ve said it out loud? Yes,” I begrudgingly admitted. “She’s probably trying to see if she can catch him even with the handicap of having a mole. I’m sure the Chief has talked to her about it at this point. He knows how she is.”

“Huh, alright. I guess I just need to get to know her more.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t like her at first, either,” I said, thinking back to simpler times. Before I could get too deep in nostalgia, I focused my gaze on Ferrisdae again. “So Abara’s been talking with dungeon owners. It’s good information, but it’s not exactly groundbreaking. What kind of messages did he have in New Frausta?”

“More dungeon owners,” she answered, looking at a different set of papers. “Mostly the low level ones under the city, though there are a couple here and there outside of the walls. Then there’s another word that keeps popping up.”

“Showing up enough to be strange?” I asked.

“Yeah, like a descriptor,” Ferrisdae said, chewing on her thumbnail in thought. An indescribable feeling passed through me as she continued. “Not even a name, it just keeps going on about this person’s hygiene. Like they couldn’t even bother giving them a name. I don’t know if they’re really important.”

“Sticky?” I asked, the paper in my hand crumpling as I clenched it in a fist.

The Elf looked at me in surprise. “Yeah, they keep calling them sticky. It’s not capitalized or anything, but… where are you going?”

Before she could finish, I had gone to the door of the wagon and opened it up, sticking my head outside. The cold bit at me, but I ignored it.

“Kitzkin!” I yelled. “A hundred gold pieces if you can get us to Alashroe as fast as you can!”

“Did you just say a hundred?” the Dwarf yelled back, surprise clear in his voice.

“I did, so I don’t care if you run them ragged, get those camels moving!”

“Aye aye!” he replied giddily.

I closed the door, ignoring the chill in my cheeks as the wagon started speeding up, and met Ferrisdae’s confused look with a grim one of my own. “Sticky is the name of the Half-Pint’s leader.” I saw recognition in her eyes, followed by an angry set of her jaw. “He’s got a grudge against me a mile long, and that’s only gotten worse after I refused to tell Brackenhorst to lighten up on him after what he did to you. Up until now he’s been friendly enough, and that’s because my wife’s kicked the ass of anyone he’s sent to shake down the tavern. He’s not the type to fight fair, and he knows how to twist the knife. Especially if he thinks he’s safe.”

“You think your family might be in danger?” she asked, now fully understanding my concern.

“There was always the risk that Abara was going to put some of his plans into motion while we were stuck in the desert, that’s why we left immediately,” I said. “I keep my personal life separate from my work life. It’s not a complete secret, but very few people really know about my family. If he knows Sticky, then he knows about Tabs, Calico, and Willow. I trust my wife to keep everyone safe, but if Abara’s there to help…”

“Badger, that’s awful,” Ferrisdae said.

“Yeah. If anything’s happened to my family, then there’s going to be nothing that can get between me and the son of a bitch that hurt them,” I replied, noting Cojisto and Moose riding up to the side of the wagon. Licking my lips, I took a breath and tried to calm myself. “Catch those two up, will you? I’m going to do what I do best and bury myself in some work.”