"And here you are," Centurla said, opening the door to the small house.

It was a single room house, even smaller than the one Hamond had called his own back in Hallowscroft. Unlike that one, which Edeline recalled as warm and welcoming, this one was barren and empty, with little furniture and even less spirit. The frame of a bed, with no mattress or blankets, sat alone in one corner.

"Going to be a little tight for all four of us," Hamond noted, peering in. "Do you have anything for us to make up the bed?"

"Sorry." Centurla shook her head, moving out of the way so they could enter. "If we'd had word in advance, we could have done something. And they probably already grabbed the extra for the other people from Verdan by now. We can get some straw or such for you tomorrow, though."

Edeline let out a sigh. Just one more day, she promised to herself. Just one more day. She knew it was a little self-centered, wanting a fresh bed when so many others had just lost their homes and so many people they knew. But curse it all, what was wrong with wanting a little personal comfort for herself now and again?

"Who did this house belong to, anyway?" Myron asked.

Centurla closed her eyes, face contorting. "My younger sister," she said after a long silent moment. "Verdan is not the only place to have lost people."

"I'm sorry I asked." Myron said quickly.

"It's nothing to do with you. And no one can bring back the dead." The Elefae woman rubbed her eyes. "Anyway, make yourselves comfortable. Our house is just down the way. I'll start a new batch of stew for you all, and make it large."

"I'll hold you to that." Edeline was not about to turn down an offer of food. Besides, Hamond deserved a break from having to cook their food now and then.

"See you later today then. Grace and glory and such." Centurla turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Nela waited a moment for the woman to be out of hearing, then spoke up. "That's not how the saying goes!"

"You don't say it that often yourself, so how would you know?" Myron teased.

"Just shut up." Edeline was a little surprised that instead of responding to the teasing in kind, Nela had just snapped at Myron. Nela must be in a particularly bad mood.

Myron drew back, also looking astonished and a little hurt. Edeline considered admonishing Nela, as it had been a simple remark made in good humor. No, that would provoke Nela further, and Edeline was tired enough that she did not want to get into an argument here.

Nela moved over to the corner, and lacking a chair, lowered herself to the floor. She then crossed her arms, lowering her head in a sulk.

Better to leave her to it, then. Edeline turned to talk with Hamond, only to see him kneeling by the bed's frame, reaching down underneath it. "What are you looking at?" she asked, stepping close to him.

"There's a scrap of paper under here." He grunted as he stretched, reaching for it. "Got it."

"Must have missed it when they cleaned the place out," Myron said.

"Likely so." Hamond rose to his feet, turning the paper over in his hand.

Even though his back was turned, Edeline could see him freeze up at what he saw. "Something written on it?" she asked, wondering if it was some sort of message left there.

Hamond's next words were slow and measured. "She said this house belonged to her younger sister, right?"

"Yes." Edeline felt a twinge of nervousness. For the second time in as many days, some new matter had left Hamond upset. First the mention of that other thaumaturge, and now this.

"Then how is it that there's a note with his handwriting here?" Hamond held the paper up, still looking away from them.

Edeline blinked in stunned shock as she looked at the note. It was some kind drawing of a hex-sided figure, with a few scribbled notes around it. Looking at it told her nothing on its own, especially since she could not make out the writing in this light. Given that they were in Faehaven, there was one person in particular that came to mind as the possible writer.

"You know I can't see it from over here," Nela complained, not moving from where she sat. "Just say it."

"Kalvarel." Hamond's low voice hit Edeline like a sword to the gut. Or perhaps a knife to the ear. "Kalvarel was here."

"Wait, what?" That got Nela to stand up, her frustration at Myron apparently forgotten. "You've got to be kidding me. How in Aether's name is something like that here?"

Edeline grabbed at the paper. Hamond did not even attempt to resist, letting her take hold of it. Studying it closely, the first thing she realized was that two different people had written on it. All of the notes seemed to be about day-to-day matters. One a reminder to replace an old tunic. Another a new recipe for baking bread. And so it went.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She could not tell whose writing was whose, but she saw no reason to doubt Hamond. He, more than any of them, would know what to look for when it came to the Elefae man he had once called a friend. If he said this note was written - at least in part - by Kalvarel, none of them would be in a position to dispute it.

"Is our luck good or bad?" Myron grumbled, "I don't know anymore."

Edeline had to admit she could not answer that question. "For fortune's favor falls frequently forgotten," she recited, recalling an old line by...she had forgotten the poet's name, a missing detail that irritated her.

"Of course you have a poem for that," Hamond said with a chuckle. Edeline smiled back, setting the matter of the poet's identity aside. She would probably recall it later.

"Not sure it's all that lucky for us, if it doesn't tell us about the Stormsage statue," Nela pointed out, then paused. "Or does it?"

"It does not." Edeline checked again to be sure, but there were no other notes about any old thaumaturges or spells or such. It was just mundane concerns. Very strange given the plots and lies that Kalvarel had been responsible for.

Which itself raised another question: had Kalvarel lived here once?

"We ought to ask that Elefae woman about Kalvarel's ties to this sister of her." Hamond stated, revealing that he thought the same.

"Not yet," Myron objected.

"Why not?" This was the first bit of progress they had made since leaving Hallowscroft, a key clue they could not afford to ignore. Edeline saw no reason they should let the matter wait.

"We're in a delicate position with the Elefae here," Myron explained, "Pushing too hard on any issue might just lead them to force us to leave. Or if it came to the worst, they might do the same with everyone from Verdan."

"That's stupid," Nela answered, "Even if all of Elfhaven thinks we're not worth shit, that has nothing to do with the villagers."

"Faehaven," Hamond corrected.

"You know what I mean." Nela gave Hamond a foul look.

Edeline's rising frustration must have been visible on her face, as Myron quickly spoke again. "I'm not saying we shouldn't raise the question later, once we're about to leave anyway. But we have a larger problem to deal with first. We need to figure out how we're going to enter Kelshir."

Edeline had to admit that was a fair point. Even if Centurla could give them some additional information on Kalvarel, it was unlikely she knew anything about the locations of the Stormsage's fellows. Seeking the Aetheric Order's library in Kelshir remained their best hope.

"But if she, or someone else here also knows more of the tales of the Stormsage, then-"

A quiet knock on the door interrupted Hamond.

Edeline froze, hoping whoever it was had not heard too much of the conversation. Secrecy was not their greatest strength, nor was it something she particularly enjoyed. An unfortunate necessity, and one that they may have failed to keep in the excitement over the note.

Myron moved to block the door. "Who is it?"

Edeline heard a faint sniffle, then the sound of someone mumbling something on the other side of the door. She couldn't make out what they said.

Nela apparently did, because she immediate broke for the door, pulling it open.

Standing there, tears in her eyes and holding one hand to her face, was Jelinia.

"What happened?" Nela asked, leading the girl inside. "Let me see."

Jelinia lowered her hand, revealing a bit of dried blood on and under her nose. "You can heal it, right?"

Edeline almost asked how she knew Nela was a healer, but then remembered Hamond's wound when they were fleeing the knights. Jelinia had been there running with them. Of course she'd seen Nela at work before.

"Hold on." Nela reached out and pinched Jelinia's nose. "It doesn't seem broken, and looks like it already stopped bleeding. Does it hurt?

"A little," Jelinia said.

"There's nothing I need to do then." Nela stepped back. "So again, how'd it happen?"

"A couple of the other girls started shouting at me about my father. I told them he was dead...and then they pushed me down. They said...I would end up just like him."

Edeline exchanged looks with her brother, fury growing. "And no one stopped them?"

"No one else was there. Just us." Jelinia looked so miserable, small and lost.

Edeline knew children could easily slip away from their caretakers - she'd done it herself a few times as a child. But this situation was likely far more grim. Between having lost their parents and families in the attack, and everyone else being focused on settling the villagers in here, Edeline could easily understand how no one had been there to stop it.

And the four of them were not blameless either.

"Look." Nela got down on a knee, staring straight into Jelinia's eyes. "A lot of people thought I wasn't fit to be an elf, or a healer. I'm still an elf. I'm still a healer. So don't let arses like them get to you. Understand?"

Jelinia nodded, blinking back her tears.

"Now, let's get your face cleaned up." Nela rose to her feet, looking over at them. "Can one of you three get me a rag? If you have to, you can use what's left of my old tunic. It should be stuck down in my bag."

"How are we supposed to wet it?" Myron asked, casting his gaze around the bare house.

Nela gave him yet another frustrated wordless glare. Edeline caught on immediately. All of them, except Myron, knew a spell to produce water. And since Nela was already revealed as a healer, she could freely cast it in front of the girl.

At this point, Edeline was half convinced she should cast it herself, just to spite Myron.

Hamond apparently had another rag he had set aside, as he tossed it to Nela. "Hydropidax," Nela said, holding the rag in one hand. A spray of water came out of the other, soaking the cloth as drops fell around it to the floor.

The change in Jelinia's demeanor was incredible. The fear and pain vanished in an instant, replaced by pure innocent awe. Even with everything the girl had seen and endured, Edeline could tell the child in there remained.

Somehow Nela, despite her crude words and impertinent manner, was drawing that out.

"So, where were you going to stay for the night?" Nela asked. Myron groaned. Edeline had to admit she was wondering if Nela was getting a little too attached.

"That old hunter said I should stay with you," Jelinia said, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

Edeline could help but let out a bitter laugh. She had assumed between all the Elefae here, Jelinia could quite easily find someone to stay with. But it was obvious to every observer that Jelinia admired Nela. Call them tired, call them inattentive, but this was entirely their mistake.

"It's going to be even more tight in here," Hamond grumbled.

"I hope Centurla doesn't mind another mouth to feed." Myron said, conceding that Jelinia was here to stay. "Let's get set up as best we can before the food's ready."