Gods, I swear the waiting has gotten the best of me. I still see the sense behind Kesla’s choice to delay setting off until two mornings after our initial meeting with Arrhetel because, as they both reasoned, we still had business to take care of if we were going to be jumping right back in without any real rest. We’d been on the road for a long time and we were worn, and I’ll admit that two nights in a real, soft, warm bed has done wonders for me, especially with the company, even if Tulen did keep me up half that first night just talking. Not that I minded, it was just like being back in the dorms. And it certainly helped keep my mind off it. And she let me sleep in yesterday, it was early afternoon before I woke up again. I really needed that.
The afternoon was spent shopping for the various wares and supplies we needed to replenish and acquire for our new job, and despite the worrying reason for it all I’ll admit I enjoyed myself. There was definite charm in returning to places I once frequented as a student and seeing familiar faces again, most of whom recognised me easily enough. Tulen returned to work for the day, but Kesla was guide enough for the group, having been to Bavat before, so they’d already made impressive progress before I caught up with them again.
Finally I escorted them into the Academy’s Armoury once more, and Art was like a little kid again once he got an eyeful of the racks upon racks of weaponry and armour. Krakka was more subdued, but I could tell he was still impressed as he looked around, slowly opening up to the possibilities on offer. Even Yeslee, who was initially very standoffish, became unusually curious as we wandered about, and more than once I caught her covetously eyeing the odd particularly well-made and ingenious piece in the collection.
Hurrig, on the other hand, only had eyes for our golem. He was very polite and understated about it, but it was clear as day to me that he was absolutely fascinated by Driver 8, who was perfectly happy to submit to a close inspection. Hurrig refrained from any unnecessary poking and prodding, but he was thorough all the same, and by the end I swear he was positively giddy about the experience. He must have asked a hundred questions while they were at it, and each was furnished with clear and concise answers, but even so I can tell Hurrig would’ve preferred it if Driver 8 could have stayed for a whole month for a proper evaluation.
And yet, at odd moments, I still felt time breathing down the back of my neck, the subtle gnaw of the urgency of my father’s situation, whatever it might actually be, weighing hard on me. I put on the bravest face I could, but even so I could tell Kesla picked up on it well enough, staying close by my side the whole time, giving me smiles and friendly little shoulder nudges and the odd hug to keep my spirits up when needed. Mostly it worked.
When we called it a night after a big dinner in the private-hire back room of the hotel’s restaurant, I could tell Art was a little frustrated we weren’t cutting loose again to make up for coming up short the night before. He wore it well, though, putting on a brave face for me and promising that at least this meant he’d be on fine form in the morning when we make the jump. Then Tulen took me home again and tucked me in, but while she didn’t talk my ear off this time it still took me a long time to get to sleep, and my sleep turned out more fitful. Bad dreams. In the end I gave up once it started to get light again and just camped out on Tulen’s balcony with a blanket and my bearskin wrapped tight around me, watching the sunrise and hoping for a better day than the night I’d just had.
She found me there a few hours after dawn, dozing somewhat but still not really sleeping, and one of her half dozen cats, a big dumb ginger tom rather fittingly called Mr Idiot, had clambered into my lap sometime without me even noticing. She gave me strong coffee and fixed me a big breakfast that I found waiting for me once I had enough renewed energy to go back inside cradling the docile furry lump in my arms. He seems to have thoroughly claimed me, because he wouldn’t leave me alone the whole time I’ve spent in Tulen’s apartment.
After breakfast I found Tulen had already packed not only my own gear but a pack and satchel of her own and had changed into what I think she thought were travelling clothes. When I found her she was strapping a substantial sword to her hip, not so long and heavy as Kesla’s bastard sword but still an intimidating weapon. Her answer when I asked what she thought she was doing was simply: “What’s it look like? I’m coming with you.”
Knowing she didn’t mean seeing me off but coming on the job to Untermer itself, I immediately tried to put my foot down. Tulen is not field-work material, her far more socially adept manner and unshakeable optimism may make her a far more affable wizard but she’s more of a core intellectual, better suited to study. I mean sure, she was a lot better than me in combat training, but I always thought that was more to do with her dragon blood than anything else, she’s too sweet to be a real fighter.
Or at least I would’ve though so before the Hungrenn Gap. I was never overly suited to raw violence, but then when I was put in the position of killing half a dozen bandits or die, I surprised myself. And then there was Ashsong …
So when she argued her way right past me, I caved. She wants this too bad, but at least she’s not doing this for glory or adventure. She wants to help me, to help my father if she can. She’s coming because she’s my best friend and she knows I need her, whether she’s qualified or not. So instead of turning her down again, I told her to show me what she had in her wardrobe and had her swap out what wouldn’t work for what would. By the time we needed to set off I had her at least looking the part, and with a much more well-appointed components bag to go with the rest.
Art was mostly just surprised when she turned up with me looking ready to join us, while Yeslee and Krakka both looked deeply uncertain if it would really work. Kesla, however, seemed to take my own relative confidence as recommendation enough and gave her own okay, which was all I really needed under the circumstances. Driver 8, much as I would’ve expected, was as indifferent as ever, although he welcomed her aboard politely enough. Shay just seemed happy to have her onboard.
“Okay, so what, we’re just jumping in again?” Art wonders as he looks up from the teleportation circle set out in lines of burnished silver inlaid in the gleaming white paving stone before us. We’re on the far side of the gardens in the heart of the Academic campus, with only the well-swept gravel path between us and the open water of the basin itself. The air’s a little more moist here, a touch of the vapour from the constant downpour of the falls hanging in the air around us, while the great cliffs loom above us across the water. And above that the Citadel, seeming more impossibly high than ever from this angle. “It’s that simple?”
“Oh no, of course not.” Tulen gently taps him on the nose as she strolls past, reaching under her short silver-and-white travelling cloak and drawing her knife from out the small of her back. “That wouldn’t do at all. If anyone simply tried to jump in this way without being given prior clearance, they’d simply wind up disintegrating themselves, scattered to the far reaches of whatever lies beyond. Only someone who’s permitted entry to the Citadel can portal through the security wards.”
“Like you, I take it.” Kesla reasons “Since you work there.”
“Precisely.” She pricks the tip of her left index finger and sheathes her knife again, then pinches the tip for a moment to let a little bulb of blood well up there.
“Then how are we supposed to get in with you?” Art frowns at her, dubious now.
“Simple. I give you permission to travel with me.” She walks up to him and holds out her hand, the pricked finger pointing out towards him.
“What’re you doing?” He steps back, surprised.
“Giving my permission.” She takes another step towards him and he looks to me, surprised now. I simply nod and his frown deepens, but then he lets out a sigh and stand his ground as she reaches up and presses her finger to his forehead, leaving a little smear on the fur there.
“That’s it?”
“Yes, it is.” She smiles down at him and he cocks his brow in response, half smiling himself. Tulen simply turns to Shay, squeezing her finger for a moment to promote another little welling from the wound, and the half-orc simply stands still to let her anoint her. “Just don’t rub it off, at least until we’re inside.”
Kesla’s frowning now. “So, just as a rather unpleasant hypothetical, what’s to stop a hostile mage from cutting your throat and then using your blood to anoint themselves and others in order to gain forceful entry?”
Tulen chuckles a little as she walks up to her and presses her bloody fingertip to her forehead. “Well that would have the exact same result as if they just tried to jump in without it. It would only work for me, or any other approved mage. My own intent has to be included in the gesture, or it won’t work. It can’t be forced out of me, either through violence or coercion. I have to give my blood willingly.”
As Tulen heads towards Yeslee, who looks dubious and reluctant as she watches her approach, Kesla raises her hand towards the mark but stops herself before she touches it. “Damn, that’s clever. You lot think of everything.”
Yeslee flinches back when Tulen comes close, which seems to surprise her, but I think the look of genuine hurt that flickers across my friend’s face might be what convinces her to grit her teeth and bend down to allow it after all, even if she does scowl the whole time. As Tulen moves on to Krakka she turns my way and glares daggers at me, likely as much because I don’t have to put up with this since I’m already in the Order, but I simply smile back, impervious.
Once Driver 8’s crouched good and low on one knee to allow her to touch his forehead we all gather on the circle around her as she sucks on her finger for a few moments before weaving the sigil and activating the circle. Then we simply jump.
I’m sure I share the others’ opinion that this is a much more pleasant transition than my portal spells, disorienting as the emergence might still be. Once again we find ourselves in the Citadel’s central atrium, the glow already fading in the silver of the circle as we start to spread out, Art and Shay in particular blinking in clear discomfort, while it quickly becomes clear that Yeslee simply had her eyes closed for the trip. She casts about through narrowed slits, suspicious now we’re back in a place she clearly finds so intrinsically offensive.
While we’re not alone in here, once I start looking around it occurs to me that the place is unusually empty for the time of day. Across the floor, mostly gathered on the large central circle itself, our horses are waiting with the usual liveried attendants, along with Arrhetel, Wenrich and Hurrig, as well as a few additional individuals I take a moment to recognise. My heart sinks a little when I recognise one of them.
Damn it, what the hell is he doing here? I thought we’d seen enough of Taphun Saxiros after the debacle of his brief involvement at the start of our last job, but the dragonhalf bureaucrat is here, stood beside my godmother now, and regarding us all. Interestingly, while his gaze is as cold and aloof as I would’ve expected, there’s none of the contempt he held in reserve for us at our previous meeting in his eyes now. If anything his look’s more calculating now, appraising us as we begin to approach.
On Arrhetel’s other side is a full-blooded elf, his stature imposing even for one of his blood as he reaches well over seven feet, as lofty as Yeslee in fact. His hair is a cool dark silver, worn long and loose so it tumbles in a perfect centre parting over the front of her robes and far down his back, while his beard is cropped so close and thin it almost seems like simple grey pencil-lines tracing his jaw and upper lip. Even by Order standards his robes are especially austere, gleaming even brighter than his cool pearlescent skin and pressed smoother than glass, but when he catches my eye I see the subtle ticking of a smile start in the corners of his mouth. Arrhetel’s fellow Council member, Ryul Aldercrown, may be as quintessential a High Elf as any I’ve ever met, but he’s also the least stuffy I’ve known in my time, too. Perhaps it’s simply because he’s too canny in his intelligence to be an arrogant and effete snob like some of his kin.
The third figure is the one I recognise most readily, and I can’t help my warm and easy smile when I see him. Not can I resist breaking from the group, not really thinking as I vaguely pass my staff to Tulen before I rush forward, and he’s already moving to greet me too. He’s no taller than I remember, but this human wizard’s grown broader since I left, filling out his formerly tall but lanky frame with what seems more likely muscle than fat. He’s wearing his auburn hair longer too, tied back in a ponytail now, and has finally manged to cultivate that beard he always wanted when we were students.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Thought you’d come back to Bavat for a few days without even saying hello, then?” He’s grinning as he chides me, but then Jathran always was a gentle soul. He and Tulen always had that in common, but he was always much more quiet and considered while she’s always just been so much.
“Hey, I thought we had more time so I was working up to it.” I step right into his embrace as he opens his arms, and it’s like being crushed by a bear. He gives me a tight squeeze and hoists me off my feet for a moment, then sets me down again and lets me go, still smiling gently as he looks me over.
“You look good.”
“I look good? What about you? What happened, have you been at Professor Torg’s growth potions or something?” I’m a little hesitant as I reach out, but ultimately I still give his chest a little experimental poke and find it as firm as I would’ve though. When he starts grinning again I give his left bicep a little pinch and it’s like trying to squeeze a tree trunk between my fingers. “Bloody hell, you’re thick.”
“It’s all natural, I swear.” There’s the subtlest flush to his cheeks, but his smile doesn’t change. “That last growth spurt I’d been waiting on finally hit right after graduation.”
“He’s very popular around the campus these days, especially with many of the female student body.” Tulen’s genuinely smirking as she saunters up to us now. “Some of the boys, too. I think the beard might have something to do with it.”
Jathran gives the well-trimmed but full, rich scruff lining his jaw a little rub. “Well I did always say a proper wizard needs a beard.”
“Maybe in the storybooks.” Tulen gives him a particularly savage but still playful nudge in the ribs. “In the real word it’s less of a prerequisite.”
“What real world are you talking about?” Jathran quirks a brow at her, his smile cocking too now. “Out of the three of us here, only one has actually been out in it.” He looks down at the sword on her hip, taking in her wardrobe and baggage while he’s at it, and his smile fades a little. “Bloody hell, Tu, you really are doing it. Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
“Really?” She cocks her own brow. “Like you’re one to talk.”
Looking at him now, I realise that, while he’s still decked out in our standard white and silver raiments, he’s still dressed for travel, wearing britches under his robes and a pack on his back. That has me frowning. “Oh come on, Jath, not you too? You’re an academic, you’re definitely not built for this work. Don’t let those new muscles go to your head.”
He frowns right back at me, not seeming to understand what I’m getting at for a moment, and he grips his well-polished wooden staff tightly in both hands, almost defensive now. “What? Oh, no, that’s not the plan at all. I mean, I am coming with you to Untermer, but I’m not joining the investigation. The Order’s got business with the local Authority, and I’ve been drafted in as their representative. Apparently I’m suited.”
“Professor Garent was supposed to depart yesterday, but in light of developments we decided it might be prudent for him to delay his travels for a day.” Master Aldercrown’s voice is as silken as I remember, and we’re all a little surprised to find him stood right beside us now. “He’ll be accompanying you to the Capitol Building. After your father’s … disappearance, Mistress Thermyse and I decided it would be wiser for him to take advantage of your group’s clear benefits in security.”
His bright hazel eyes flick past me, and even before I turn to follow his gaze I know he’s taking in Driver 8 as he lumbers up with the others. He’s pretty cool about the golem’s presence, all things considered, but I’m not surprised to detect a subtle wonder deep in those eyes now. Jathran’s certainly suitably awed by him.
“We’ll do all we can to ensure his safety, of course, Master …” Kesla frowns as her intended reassurance falters at her unfamiliarity.
“Aldercrown.” He extends a welcoming hand, his smile measured but surprisingly. “It’s a pleasure, Mistess Shoon. I was most impressed to hear about your recent achievements, all of you. The reputation of the Creeping Bam is well earned.”
“Well we’ll certainly have to continue to live up to it, Master Aldercrown.” Kesla gives his hand a firm shake, prompting the subtlest quirk in his brow as he takes in its casual power. “Especially in this latest endeavour.”
“Yes, it is most unfortunate, I’m very sorry for the timing, it’s frustratingly sudden and, given recent events, troubling in its … implications.”
That has me looking to Kesla, whose own expression is extremely hard to read. Clearly he shares my godmother’s concerns as well as ours.
“Of course …” Kesla says it slowly, clearly carefully choosing her words now, and she scans the atrium. It’s likely as clear to her that the place has been cleared out specifically for our departure, to give us as much privacy as possible, so in theory we should be able to speak freely. In practice, though …
“So you are sure you wish to accompany this party on their assignment, Mistress Kelsira?” He doesn’t turn to Tulen until after he’s spoken, taking her by surprise, I’m sure as much with the simple fact that he’s acknowledging he even knows she exists as anything else. Even though she work in the Citadel, it’s rare for someone so junior as my friend to have anything to do with a Councillor – the only reason she interacts so regularly with Arrhetel is because the vaults and their contents are her own specific purview of administration.
“Master Aldercrown?” Tulen squeaks his title, wide eyed and thoroughly flustered, and I wonder if she might’ve frozen as surely as a deer in torchlight during a night hunt. Then her eyes flicker to mine and she seems to remember herself as she clears her throat. “Um … my apologies, Master … um … yes, I … I’m sure. Sorry … um, yes. I am. Master Foxtail and their friends are wading into unknown waters, and they could use every resource available to them. If something terrible truly has happened to their father then I fear that even a genuinely powerful Order wizard alone might not be enough for them to succeed, so I intend to … um … increase their chances … so to speak …” She winces as her words peter out again.
To his credit, Aldercrown simply nods along, smiling gently. I don’t know him anywhere near as well as my godmother, but since he’s one of my father’s mentors and closest friends he’s been figure enough in my life that I’ve long since gotten over how intimidating he can be without even trying. “Well I’m sure you will do fine out there. Your work in the Vaults has been exemplary and you have proven more than capable of fulfilling your duties within the Citadel, so perhaps it’s fitting for you to finally gain some experience of the outside world. Too few of your colleagues are willing to follow your example, I fear. Your work with our latest acquisition is complete, I take it?”
“Enough for my team to finish without my presence, Master Aldercrown.” She takes a deep breath, regaining control now she’s on firmer ground with him again. “They’re all highly accomplished and this fragment’s proven no different to any of the previous pieces we’ve encountered since I began my tenure, so I don’t foresee any complications in my absence.”
He inspects her for a long moment, and while I’m sure she’s squirming terribly inside Tulen holds up admirably well under his scrutiny. Finally his smile returns, a little warmer this time. “Very good, then. I wish you luck on your assignment, Mistress Kelsira.” He extends his hand.
Tulen looks down at it in surprise for several beats, eyes wide again. I almost start to think she won’t take it, but finally she reaches out and shakes it, and she must summon enough of strength to pass muster because Aldercrown simply nods before letting go to turn to me.
“Take care, Gael. Your father’s the brightest man I know. If something happened to him, then –”
“I’ll watch my back, I promise. And when I can’t, I have friends who are more than capable of doing it for me.” I look at Kesla for a moment, finding her frowning a little at the implied compliment. Shay’s at her side now, looking uncomfortable enough to be here, and she’s clearly avoiding Aldercrown’s gaze the same way I’ve noticed her doing with Arrhetel. “I’ll find da, and I’ll bring him home.”
Reaching out, he grips my shoulder to give it an affectionate squeeze, his smile warm as a campfire now. He nods once, then moves off to rejoin my godmother and the others. After a moment he signals for us to follow.
Looking to Kesla, I take a deep breath before I do as I’m bid, trusting her to come with me. Arrhetel finishes her conversation with Wenrich as we draw near, and she cocks a brow at Tulen, inspecting her as thoroughly as her colleague just did. She doesn’t need to say anything to her, likely they already had quite the conversation about her intentions, so instead she lets out a heavy sigh as she turns to Kesla. “Very good. Again, I must thank you for so readily answering the calling, Mistress Shoon. I’m sorry for cutting your recuperation so short.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mistress Thermyse. It couldn’t be helped, sometimes shit happens and you just gotta deal with it no matter what state you’re in. Ain’t the first time we had to roll with some shitty punches.”
Arrhetel nods. “Well, as promised, anything you might require of the Order throughout this undertaking will be made readily available whenever required. Master Saxiros?”
I blink, and I catch Kesla doing the same. The dragonhalf bureaucrat coughs awkwardly before stepping forward, and his arrogance seems to have vanished entirely now, he seems almost sheepish now. He clears his throat one more time and bows to both of us, which surprises me more than anything. “Mistress Shoon, Master Foxtail, I owe you both a great apology. Much as I owe an apology to your entire party. Please forgive my harsh and undeserved words, I have never been more wrong in my life than when I dismissed you all as a collection of amateurish misfits, you’ve proven yourselves infinitely worthy of my respect.”
Bloody hell … I just look at Kesla, who seems as surprised as me. She frowns for a moment, then clears her own throat before nodding back. “Your apology’s most graciously accepted, Master Saxiros. We’re just glad we could be of service.” She extends her hand.
To his credit, Saxiros only hesitates for a moment before taking it, and I think it’s more surprise than reluctance. He gives it what‘s clearly a very firm shake, and nods along with Kesla. When they break contact he turns to me again. “I shall do all I can for you during our time in Untermer, if you come up against any obstacles that we might be able to remove for you, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I will muster all resources as quickly as possible.”
“You’re coming with us?” I try not to sound too surprised when I say it, but I don’t think it quite works. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to dent Saxiros’ newfound humility.
“No, but Master Garent and I have business in Untermer, and Mistress Thermyse thought it wise for us to delay our departure to take advantage of your potential escort. In light of Darion’s present predicament.”
That makes me frown, I can’t help it. The familiarity in his reference to my father throws me a little, I didn’t know he even knew my father, although once I think about it I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me before. They both came up around the same time, it would make sense. Even if they’re not necessarily friends, Saxiros has just made it fundamentally clear that he’s perfectly capable of respect, and no-one earns it so easily as my father.
“Of course.” Kesla simply nods her affirmation. “You’re welcome to join us.”
Saxiros nods back, and there’s even the slightest hint of a smile touching his narrow mouth. Damn, I’m not sure I can get used to this.
“So I guess this is where we say farewell for now, then?” Wenrich takes me a little by surprise when I find him stood at my side. He looks much better than he did when we left him just two days ago, and not simply because he’s on his feet again. He’s still a little pale, the dark circles still there around his eyes, but they’re fading now, and the scratches and yellowing bruises that lined his face are gone now along with the bandages. He’s still using a short staff of simple varnished rosewood to hold himself up, but he seems stable enough.
Dropping into a crouch, a smile at him once I’m as comfortably close to his level as I can get. “Yes. For now. You’re not rid of me yet, I promise you.”
“You’ve already done him proud, you know. You proved yourself the day you left the Citadel, but what you’ve achieved since …” He sighs, his smile growing a little more maudlin. “I’m sorry I put you in that position, with Ashsong. If I’d known –”
“There was no way you could have. Like Kesla says, we rolled with the punches, like we’re doing now.”
He frowns, looking up at my friends as they begin to make their preparations for departure. Shay’s hung back for now, along with Tulen, but they’re keeping a respectful distance, giving us a little privacy. “They’re good for you, I can tell. I’ve known a great many sellswords in my time, but I’ve not seen many so capable as these, or as honourable. You’ve done well to earn their friendship.”
“Yes, well they’re very easy to like.” I shove my hair out of my face, as much to hide my growing awkwardness as anything else. “Um … any words for da when I see him?”
Wenrich smiles, but it seems a little brittle now I’m looking. “Tell him I’m as proud of his child as he’s always been, I suppose?”
My own smile grows a little shaky hearing that, while my face grows hot and my eyes start to burn a little, tingling as the threat of tears begins to prickle at me. I shove it down hard, but still reach out tentatively to touch his cheek. He closes his eyes for a moment as he leans his face into my hand, then steps forward with his arms spreading wide. I pull him into a fierce hug and we stay like this for a long time.
Eventually when he taps my shoulder I draw back and stand up again. “I’ll tell him, then. When we find him.”
“Of course you will.” He smiles up at me, and I swear his eyes look as wet as mine feel. Then he turns to look past me, swiping his sleeve across his face without any real care for appearances. “Mistress Shay!”
She snaps to attention call, surprised. “Master Clearwood?” She hustles over with a frown.
“Thank you for what you did. For Gael.” He reaches up with his right hand.
Frown deepening, she crouches all the same and extends her own hand to give his a firm shake. “I didn’t really have a lot of choice, but I would’ve done it anyway.”
“Well even so, thank you.” He holds onto her hand, keeping her crouched there. “It’s more than I should ever have to ask of anyone, I owe you a great debt. If it’s ever in my power to pay it back …”
“Think nothing of it, Master Clearwood. It’s what friends do for each other.”
Wenrich watches her for a long moment, finally nodding as he lets her go. “Of course. They’re lucky to have you, I think.”
Shay frowns again as she straightens up, looking at me for a moment before turning back. She starts to speak, but stops herself, instead letting out a heavy sigh. “We’ll see.” she finally mutters as she starts to turn away, and I suspect it’s more to herself than him.
“Look after this one, Shayline Swift-Kill.” He nods to me as he says it. “Please.”
That stops her, and she looks at me for a long moment before turning back to him and doing the same. Finally she nods again. “I’ll try.”
I give Wenrich one last look before rejoining the others, and he just looks right back the whole time. I can’t help wondering if this might be the last time I see him, and I suspect he’s feeling the same, an idea that makes me unbelievably sad.