The cafeteria was much busier than usual when Teffin tied on her apron to begin her customary morning shift. Well, it was more populated, but actually not any more energetic. There were the usual morning regulars, most of whom had been served before she got in and were methodically working through their breakfasts as always. Today, the additional Guild members present had stopped in for a little pick-me-up after marching all night in the vigil.
The mood was both tired and somber.
Peeking out through the kitchen window, she took quick stock. Good—Kiff had been on the last overnight shift, and he was on the ball as usual. Everybody had food or in some cases just hot tea in front of them, except the newest arrivals only just now slumping into seats around a table.
Teffin grinned in recognition before mastering her expression to suit the mood. She liked this group—they were, if nothing else, unfailingly entertaining. Usually they liked to lurk in one of the corner tables, but none were currently available, so they were right out in the open, in full view of the whole room. That might provide some free comedy.
She efficiently put together a tray and pushed through the swinging doors onto the cafeteria floor. Sidling deftly between the tables, Teffin arranged her face into a suitably solemn expression as she arrived at her destination and set down the pot of steaming tea.
“Good mowning, kids. Wet’s gets something hot into you; it must’ve been a wong night.”
“Oh,” Riocco started to interject, “but we didn’t order—”
“Now now, no wowwies,” Teffin assured them with a wink. “Owdew whatevew and whenevew you wike. Twust me, I know thwee adventuwews who need a cup of stwong spice tea when I see them. This’ww get you safewy to bed, ow keep you upwight wong enough to get some actuaw bweakfast. Whichevew you choose.”
“Thanks, Teffin,” Gregarious Greg the One-Man Bard said, lifting his teacup to her in a little toast as soon as she filled it. Whether he meant it or not, the motion caused a melodious little two-tone chime from the apparatus affixed to his arm. “You’re a real one.”
“Your consideration is appreciated,” Lilith added, her voice more hoarse than usual.
This was why she liked the Lone Wolves of Destiny. Sure, they were ridiculous, which was funny—but they were also nice. They bothered to learn the names of the Guild’s clerks and serving staff, and said “please” and “thank you” when they wanted something. There were some far more impressive adventurers in this guild who could stand to learn from these little goobers, in Teffin’s opinion.
“Thanks, Teffin,” Riocco repeated dutifully, giving her a tired smile. “What do we think, Wolves? Stay for breakfast, or go crash?”
“Destiny favors the prepared,” Lilith grated, then tried unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn. “Ahem, excuse me. We do have to eat, but…I am not sure I’ll make it through a meal without drifting off.”
“Not that it was all that strenuous, physically, but…what wears on the spirit, wears on the body,” Greg added. He didn’t look too worn out, himself, but he was holding still enough not to provide an accidental soundtrack for once. “A night spent thinking about what happened to that poor girl… I think my brain needs rejuvenation more urgently than my stomach.”
“But…perhaps a quick bite first,” Lilith suggested, looking borderline guilty. “Something small? It…would save time later. If I eat lunch out of schedule it’ll throw me out of whack for days,” she added in a quieter voice. “Bad enough our sleep rhythm is shot…”
“I’m sorry, Teffin, we don’t mean to make you stand around waiting on us,” Riocco said. “Please, don’t let us keep you.”
“I’ww keep it in mind, if somebody ewse needs something,” she said, winking. “But you guys awe it fow the moment. Take youw time.”
Riocco nodded, then their expression fell. “I…sorry. I know what you mean, Greg. I’m having a little trouble focusing on the prosaic details. I just… It’s not like we even knew her, but I can’t shake the thought of what it must’ve been like for Princess Perseverance. The gods send that she’s still alive. Perhaps someone can—”
“Rio.” Greg’s voice was gentle, but suddenly firm. “Listen. You know I love you and that conviction to do what’s right, to help whoever needs it, is a big part of why. There’s a reason we voted you in charge. But…you’re not Valefolk.”
“Don’t rile the dragons,” Lilith whispered. She clutched her staff to her thin chest as if for comfort, looking haunted. “No matter the cause. No matter the stakes. Never rile the dragons. If we had only our own lives to throw away, I would call for us to set out for Dragonvale this minute. But if the Dread is provoked…you cannot know who will suffer. Only that they will number in the hundreds if not thousands.”
“I understand,” Riocco sighed. “Really, guys, I do. Maybe not down in my soul the way you do, growing up here, but…it’s not like I’m stupid. I’m the last who wants to cause more destruction.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
The three of them looked up at the new voice; Teffin had already turned toward the latest arrival, just because she had just arrived, and that was her job. Also, she experienced a muted thrill, having to concentrate on keeping her bright, bland, customer service smile in place.
What was she doing here?
Unlike some adventurer guilds, the Verdi Herons made a point to keep in touch with the civilian populace, which meant among other things that their cafeteria was open to the public—guild members ate at a discount, but anyone could come in and order, what with a convenient entrance right there on the street. Teffin got to meet some fascinating people thanks to this policy, but here was one she’d never expected to see in here.
All members of the tribe needed to know all the significant players in Boisverd—especially the surprising ones. They also needed to either conceal how much they knew or carefully downplay how they happened to have learned it, which meant she now had a decision to make.
“Not riling the dragons is always an important rule,” said Court Mage Cora d’Acron herself, stepping up to the table, “but it’s especially important for everyone to keep their heads down and ears up right now. Something is weird with those beasts lately. Taking the Princess was a move with no precedent in six hundred years, and… It’s been at least three weeks now since anyone has seen the Dread at all.”
“A…confusing portent,” said Lilith. “I struggle to grasp its meaning.”
“So do we all,” agreed the older woman, “save that now is no time to go and do anything rash. That’s the thing about dragons: whatever they’re up to, we’ll all find out sooner or later.”
“I say, you do seem rather more in the know than most,” said Greg. “I confess the thought of those creatures up to something and having no hints fairly makes my skin crawl. Care to join us for a cuppa and perhaps a bit of gossip?”
“Well, it’s not as if I don’t have time,” Cora said with a thin smile, pulling out a chair. “Miss, could I trouble you for another cup?”
“No, you can’t,” Teffin said solemnly, then grinned and winked. “It’s nevew any twoubwe. Just sit tight, gowgeous, I’ww be back in two shakes.”
With a final flirtatious flick of her tail, she turned and glided back to the swinging doors, and then into the kitchen.
“Guys!” Teffin stage whispered as soon as she was through, putting on a breathlessly excited demeanor. “We have a cewebwity in the cafetewia! You’ww nevew guess who!”
The head cook gave her a faintly annoyed look across his big vat of porridge, but the dishwasher and the outgoing server she’d just replaced both looked up.
“Okay, you’we pwobabwy wight,” Kiff said, grinning as he continued shrugging into his coat. “We’ww nevew guess. So who is it?”
“It’s Cowa d’Acwon!”
“I can’t even translate that,” scoffed the girl up to her arms in soapy water.
“The Couwt Mage!” Teffin exclaimed, just barely quietly enough not to be audible outside. “Fwom the Pawace!”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The facade of starstruck excitement served to make her lashing tail and twitching ears not look incongruous. The precise patterns in those movements conveyed a surreptitious message to only one other person present.
tribe business + target + observe & report
“All right, well,” the cook grunted, “is she ready to order?”
“Ooh, sounds fancy,” said Kiff with a grin. “Maybe I’ww go hobnob a bit. Can’t huwt to make powewfuw fwiends!”
“Oy,” the cook barked, pointing a dripping spoon at him. “Don’t bother the customers, boy!”
“Excuse me?” Kiff said with mock solemnity, while signaling a silent acknowledgment to Teffin’s message with a flick of his own ears. “My shift just ended. I’m a customew too, now! Pewhaps I’ww go give some business to youw gwubby wittwe estabwishment. I heaw the food isn’t tewwibwe.”
He sashayed out through the swinging doors while Teffin made for the cup rack.
“Ugh,” grumbled the girl scrubbing plates. “I don’t know why you hire those little cats. They’re insufferable even when they’re actually being useful.”
“I hire them,” the cook grunted, “because they’re small, weak, and annoying, and people in that position know what’s best for them. Unlike, for example, a mage school dropout whose adventuring career consists of endless chore duties because they’re short on their Guild dues every month. Every Nhiyah I’ve ever employed has worked twice as hard as you and given me half the sass about it. You just worry about your washing—your shift doesn’t end until that batch is done.”
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Dawn found a small gathering outside the gates of Riincroft, consisting of the guests and only a few locals—Maanet, Naaren, Liiri, and a handful of huntresses Kaln hadn’t gotten to know well, with none of the elderly or infirm residents. No surprise there; a lot of the Croft’s population was some combination of sleep-deprived and hungover this morning.
It had been a better than decent party.
A few of the huntresses looked on the bleary side, but the rest of them had either deliberately taken it easy last night, or were godlings or dragons.
Now, while the group stood in a wide, uneven arc facing out into the desert, Maanet stepped forward alone, raising his arms toward the sun which was just now peeking above the horizon.
Kaln leaned surreptitiously toward Isabet. “Um…what is…”
She shot him a reassuring little smile sidelong, whispering back. “The Hiiri love their rituals; they have a lot of them. But they’re very down to earth and logical, and adaptable. I’ve learned it’s not usually hard to follow along.”
“This is our path to what you asked for,” Naaren added just as softly. “Don’t worry overmuch about the details; we value a respectful spirit more than excessive propriety.”
Reassured, Kaln nodded and fell respectfully silent. He remained as fascinated as when he’d first arrived. The Hiiri were good hosts, good sports, and had so many intriguing little customs, he felt he could spend weeks here just getting to know them and not consider it misused time.
Whatever signal Maanet was waiting for, he didn’t keep them in suspense for long. Turning back around to face the group, the priest smiled and held out his hands in a gesture of benediction.
“Friends, tribemates, people of the sand, and honored guests. This day we are blessed by the presence of those new to us, and to our ways. And so we gather at dawn, at the time of new beginnings, that they may set out upon their pilgrimage. Isabet Halliway. Ar-Kaln Zelekhir. You have shown yourselves to be good friends and true—I am grateful that the opportunity to see you off is mine. From here you shall walk a path that leads you to stand before Hii-Amat herself—the path every Hiiri, either born or made, has walked before you.”
Kaln found himself frowning in sudden concern; despite his innate disinclination to interrupt a ritual, he felt the need to ask.
“Ah, so…this is…an initiation?”
“Don’t worry,” Maanet said with a cheerful smile, dropping the ritual cadence to speak more plainly. “You aren’t joining the tribe by doing this. It’s not even a tribe sending you; Riincroft is neutral ground. No, this is just a preliminary step along that path. Isabet has decided to follow that path in truth, and your arrival provides an opportunity to spare her the wait for an actual tribal pilgrimage.”
Kaln glanced at the ice mage, restraining his surprise; he hadn’t realized she was actually planning to formally and officially go native. Isabet’s expression was resolute and solemn, that of a person taking the matter at hand with the utmost seriousness.
“As for you, Kaln,” Maanet continued, “we don’t have a specific ritual for an outsider just seeking an audience with Hii-Amat on his own business, simply because…well, nobody does that. In all of our history I’m sure you’re not the first, but I don’t know the tales of any others, so…we are improvising a bit. Now, sending someone right into the arms of our goddess isn’t a thing to be done lightly, or without due reverence. However, you have clearly approached us, and her, with the appropriate respect—your explanations and your actions have satisfied me that you mean well. It’s my pleasure to include you in this ceremony; it seems to me the best compromise to achieve all our needs.”
“I thank you for your consideration,” Kaln said, bowing.
Maanet bowed back to him, and when he spoke again, his voice once more fell into a ceremonial rhythm.
“None are sent alone to present themselves before Hii-Amat. In truth, rarely are they sent in so small a group, for the desert is dangerous and it is our way to rely upon one another. No priest of the Hiiri would allow the young or the new to embark upon this pilgrimage if it would bring them into unreasonable danger. But you are both quite formidable beings in your own right—and there is also the company you yourself have brought.”
Vadaralshi, still in her humanoid form, grinned and waved. Behind her Vanimax just watched in silence, towering over the group in the larger reptilian form in which he felt the most comfortable. Kaln had carefully refrained from acknowledging the enormous woven garland of vines and desert flowers draped around his neck, or the smaller ones twined through his horns.
“I judge you a fair match for the rigors of the desert,” Maanet intoned, “and so there is only the question of your sponsors. You will be guided along this path by fully initiated Hiiri, and be taught that which you must learn of our ways along the route from here to Hii-Amat’s shrine. And so!”
He once more held out both hands in a wide gesture, turning a grave expression slowly across the entire assemblage.
“I ask who among our people will sponsor Isabet upon her journey?”
“I will,” Naaren answered immediately, stepping forward. “I have found her a good friend, to myself, to our family, and to our people. It’s been my privilege to be present as she found refuge among us, and if none claim it above me, I would ask the honor of guiding her on this stage of her journey.”
Kaln glanced fleetingly around, noting a rather subdued response to this from the assembled Hiiri. Was Naaren not popular or something? Whatever the case, Maanet smiled in approval, as did Liiri. And, most importantly, Isabet, smiling as if reassured.
“And so be it, then,” Maanet proclaimed. “Now. I ask who among our people will sponsor Ar-Kaln upon his journey?”
“I will!”
Several of the nearby huntresses had started to shift as the priest spoke, but before any could put themselves forward, Zhiiji the irascible cook had called out at the top of her lungs and bounded forward.
Everyone looked taken aback at this, including Maanet.
“Ah…Zhiiji? Are you—”
“You lot can go without my cooking for a few days,” she said, folding her arms imperiously. “It’s not like you were starving before. I like Kaln! Hells, I like anybody who befriends dragons. So he’s a somewhat unconventional participant in this ritual, so what? That just calls for a somewhat unconventional guide. Naaren’s a fully trained priest and everything, so if I’m a bad influence he’ll provide a suitably stodgy counterpoint.”
“Well…I guess that’s a compelling enough argument,” Maanet allowed. “I have to say this was the last thing I expected, but Zhiiji is a member in good standing of our people and her tribe, at least as far as I know. Despite being a bit…eccentric. To be clear, Kaln, if others wish to put themselves forward, this choice is yours to make.”
For his part, Kaln found this too good an opportunity to pass up. Not that he had any firm plans in this direction—he hardly knew anything about Zhiiji, after all—but an idea had been tickling at the back of his mind since he tasted her steaks. Even if nothing came of it, this would be the perfect chance to find out if there was something worth pursuing, here.
“I’m honored, Zhiiji,” he said aloud, inclining his head deeply to her. “I look forward to learning from you.”
“Too right, you do,” she said smugly.
“All right, then,” Maanet said. “Our new friends have been quickly sponsored—as positive an omen as we could hope, for the beginning of a pilgrimage. Supplies have been prepared for you. Your chosen guides can show you the route to take. May the desert give you safe paths and shade. Carry with you the prayers and goodwill of the Hiiri who welcome you among us, and may the goddess return you to us wiser than you left.”
Kaln found himself really grateful to whoever those girls were who’d spent the evening mellowing Vanimax out; the dragon didn’t even ruin the moment with a derisive snort. Maybe that meant there was a hope of growth for them all.
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“And then she weft,” Kiff reported. “It was just a casuaw chat—like any stwangew meeting new fwiends ovew bweafkast and hitting it off. I wouwdn’t think it was anything at aww, if it had been anyone ewse. But d’Acwon nevew weaves the Pawace except on business.”
“Nevew is exaggewating,” said Kefni, “but you’we not wwong, she’s not a sociabwe type. This is a majow depawtuwe. Good job, Kiff.”
“It was Teffin who spotted hew and tipped me off. I onwy know Cowa by weputation, I doubt I’d have wecognized hew.”
“Don’t wowwy, thewe’s enough cwedit fow evewybody,” she said, grinning. Here in the tribe’s secure chambers deep below their headquarters in the Roundabout they had no fear of eavesdroppers, but in keeping with Nhiyah custom and Grandmother’s firm reminders, they still spoke openly in Filvallin, not using silent signals. “So, a casuaw chance meeting fow anyone ewse, but fow the wecwusive Couwt Mage…”
“Fiwst contact,” Kiff said, nodding. “It was wwitten aww ovew the whowe thing. She wasn’t even aww that…good at it. No subtwety; I don’t think that woman actuawwy tawks to peopwe aww that often. She seemed wike someone who’d been coached in a huwwy on how to make contact with new assets.”
“That means Cwawent,” Kefni murmured, frowning. “Oh, this is juicy. Why send hew and not one of his own agents? Awso, thewe’s no chance we’we the onwy ones who noticed. The othew pwayews wiww jump on this.”
Kiff nodded again. “How’s the investigation going?”
“Mostwy a wot of watching the usuaw suspects chase each othew’s taiws in a swightwy mowe owganized fashion than usuaw. Actually, Kiff, this might be ouw fiwst bweakthwough.” Grinning, she reached out to ruffle his hair. “Nice job!”
He smirked even as he ducked away. “That means she just put a tawget on those kids’ heads, too. Makes me wondew if that was the point, ow just a side effect she was wiwwing to accept.”
“We’ww have to weawn mowe befowe we know mowe. What can you teww me about these adventuwews… What wewe they cawwed?”
Kiff put on his most solemn expression. “The Wone Wowves of Destiny.”
Kefni stared at him in silence while his lips twitched.
“Sewiouswy?”
“Sewiouswy.”
“Did they wose a bet?”
“You’d bettew sit down, Kefni, this is whewe it stawts to get weiwd.”