The orcs pushed Vayra, Glade, and Pels into the hall.

It was a large, round room with a high ceiling. Rafters criss-crossed overhead, and orange stained-glass lanterns hung from them, casting a deep amber light around the room. The floor was made of wooden boards, and thin furs covered it, which shifted when Vayra walked on them.

She glanced around, searching for the windows. If she needed a quick escape, she would need a glimpse of starlight. There were a few, but it would be a long sprint to get to them, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it before someone stopped her.

At the end of the hall, a chair waited. It wasn’t quite a throne, but it was carved and ornate, and it wasn’t quite as ash-stained as some of the room’s other furniture—black tables, stools, and benches.

For a few seconds, the throne remained empty, but a middle-aged woman looked up from her work—studying maps on a table—and walked over to it. She dropped herself down on the throne with a sigh. As far as Vayra could tell, she was human. She wore a simple, brown coat, unbuttoned, and a pale blouse beneath it. A sash ran across her chest, where three pistols hung.

The two orcs dipped their heads respectfully and said, “Perron Yawls.” They motioned towards the woman.

“Is there something you’d like with us?” Captain Pels asked. “You want us to run errands for you, eh?”

“I’m more interested in her,” Perron pointed at Vayra. “It wasn’t long ago that I was on Terreau, and saw a bounty poster for someone who fits your description. A God-heir using a starlight Path. I figure, you either are who I think you are, or you could be a great ally. If I play my cards right.”

One of the orcs stepped up to Perron’s side and leaned closer, then whispered, “She and her companions killed a bunch of your men. She might not be as firmly on our side as you think.”

Perron exhaled quickly. “Indeed, it sounds like she’s gotten up to quite a bit of trouble.”

“It was in the heat of the battle, ma’am,” Vayra held up her hands. “They were attacking everyone, and we had no choice but to protect ourselves.”

“That is what I figured,” Perron said. “But it won’t ease the news of their loss—especially not to their comrades.”

“Who do you think she is?” Glade demanded.

“Impatient,” Perron scoffed. “I don’t think it’s too hard to guess, truly, once we saw she was a half-phoenix. Either she’s a God-heir in Phasoné’s line, or she is the Mediator herself.”

Vayra shut her eyes. It wasn’t a surprise, and she supposed she should be thankful, because her identity was the only reason the resistance spared her, but it was also the only reason she had been dragged inland to attend an audience with Perron.

She contemplated the options. She could lie. How likely would it be that she was just a God-heir in Phasoné’s line?

‘Unlikely…’ Phasoné muttered inside Vayra’s head. ‘I only had one…relationship, and it was before I ascended to Godhood. Besides…there was pretty much no way children were coming out of that one.’

Vayra thought, No way?

‘Wasn’t exactly with a man.’

Ah. Vayra couldn’t stop herself from blushing.

“Is something wrong, miss?” Perron asked. “Or have I guessed correctly?”

Glancing around at all the other guards and resistance fighters, Vayra stepped forward. They were on the same side. She had no reason to hide anything. She dipped her head, then said, “I’m Vayra. And…yes, I am the Mediator.”

After a short pause, Perron said, “It is an honour to meet you.” Again, another pause. “But…I must inquire, what are you doing here on Muspellar? You don’t seem too…aware of the resistance, and I don’t imagine you were here to help us.”

Vayra gulped. She didn’t know how to answer.

‘They might be able to help us,’ Phasoné said. ‘We could do with a more direct approach—instead of spreading rumours and hoping that, in a few months, they reach Nathariel.’

“We’re looking for someone,” Vayra told them. “We were hoping to find Nathariel Hayden Layre.”

“Why him?” Perron snarled. “He causes nothing but problems whenever he turns up.”

“That sounds like the Order’s understanding of him,” Glade commented.

Vayra tilted her head. “Problems?”

“Problems.” Perron stood up from her chair and marched towards Vayra. “Last time we encountered him, he put a halt to our ambush. Too much collateral damage, he said, and that we were no better than the Elderworld God-heirs.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t understand that nothing will get done if we don’t act. If we want Karmion gone, we have to stand up to him. And more people have to rise up than just us.”

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“I have a…block in my advancement,” Vayra told Perron cautiously. “The Order of Balance hasn’t been able to help me. We were hoping that Nathariel, being as strong as he is, might be able to advise me.”

The guards, and everyone else in the resistance, began to murmur with each other. One of the orcs snapped, “And why should we tell you where he is?”

“Ah, so you know?” Captain Pels pointed a finger at the orc, then at Perron. “If you could just tell us, we’ll be right on our way.”

“And put a valuable weapon such as her,” Perron motioned towards Vayra, “in the hands of a madman? It’s just as likely that he’d set her Arcara aflame and roast her from the inside out than help her.”

“And if I can’t advance past Quartermaster?” Vayra demanded. “Would you rather your weapon be a slingshot or a field cannon?”

Perron scowled, then stomped back to her throne and sat down. “Then it must also benefit the resistance.”

“We have a ship, and we have a crew,” Vayra said. “Captain Pels is quite the smuggler, and he has experience with piracy. I’m sure he could put his skills to good use for you while I trained with Nathariel.”

“Vayra…” Glade said, a warning tone in his voice.

“That…would go against the terms of my freedom,” Pels added.

“Have you never heard of privateering?” Vayra crossed her arms. “If you only take Elderworld ships—either capture them or destroy them—you’d be serving Velaydia and the resistance.” She paused, then added, “And me, if that makes it any better.”

“I accept,” Perron said. “Captain Pels, if you agree to capture Elderworld ships for us, I will tell Vayra where to find Mr. Hayden.” She held out her hand.

Vayra glanced at Pels, then grimaced. “It’s your crew…”

“I can be a damn good privateer,” he said. “But only in the service of Velaydia. If this lady makes me go after anything but an Elderworld warship, the deal is off.”

“I’m good with that,” Vayra said.

Pels walked forwards and clasped Perron’s hand. Before he shook it, he said, “Me and my crew get to keep three quarters of the plunder. You get the ships.”

“Acceptable,” Perron said.

Pels shook her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Ms. Yawls.”

“Now, Nathariel,” Vayra said. “Where can we find him?”

Perron waved Vayra over to the map table. It was covered with a single map, a hand-drawn and inked depiction of the surface of Muspellar. Tiny carved-wood models rested on top of it, depicting bluecoats, ships, and cannons.

Near the north of the planet, where the sea occupied a bar along the top quarter of the map. Perron slapped a hand onto the map, covering a slice of the shore where Vayra figured the vague location of the Camp was.

“How am I supposed to bring you treasure if you don’t show me where I’m supposed to bring it?” Pels grumbled.

“We’ll be in touch, Captain,” said one of the orcs.

Keeping one hand over the map, Perron drew a line to the south with her finger. “Nathariel has taken up residence south of the Farats Range.”

“Farats Range?” Vayra asked. “The mountains?”

“Indeed.” With her finger, Perron traced a river down from the ocean. “This river, the Rallemflow, heads inland. It leads to an underground spring and passes under the mountains, then through the other side for a little while. Nathariel has always lived near the river, so he has a source of mana—there are always wisps of Stream water still in it. We don’t know exactly where he lives, though it’s certainly on the other side of the mountains.”

“I thought you knew where exactly,” Vayra grumbled.

‘I’m starting to think this deal wasn’t exactly worth it,’ Phasoné muttered.

At least Pels would end up with some money they could put to use when this was done. Hopefully. They could buy weapons, magic resources, the lot.

“At least you won’t be searching the whole planet, hoping for the best,” Perron replied. “For your own good, it isn’t wise to travel through the mountains via the river. It’s treacherous, and there are plenty of falls. No riverboat captains will sail through the mountains, and for good reason.”

“Are there any passes we can take?” Vayra looked at Glade. “I’m…I’m assuming you’re coming with me, right?”

“I will,” he said.

“Before you make your choice, please hear me out,” Perron replied. “There are a few passes over the mountains, though you’re just as likely to be incinerated in a volcanic eruption as you are to make it through. Unless you happen to be especially skilled at magic, which I don’t think you are. If you want to get past the mountains, you”—she pointed at Vayra specifically—“will have to head through the Night Vale Chambers.”

Vayra stared at Perron with a blank expression. “Surely you don’t expect us to know what that is.”

Perron chuckled. “A set of old ruins. They head deep below the surface. They were there before we’ve ever been there, and they aren’t just on Muspellar. On plenty of other planets, too, and the powerful God-heir families can sometimes pull ancient treasures from them. Arcara-enchanted treasures, sometimes.”

Vayra raised her eyebrows. “There…are treasures in the Night Vale Chambers?”

“You might find some if you delve deep. But I wouldn’t suggest that. Delving deep into the chambers is incredibly unwise—even the Kudmen Chambers Company has trouble in the deeper parts. Just stay at the top and get through quickly, and you’ll reach the other side in no time.”

Vayra nodded, but Glade said, “This does not seem wise. These ruins are best left for high-stage God-heirs, not for a Quartermaster-stage Mediator who needs to be wary about how much she cycles.”

“I might be somewhat fire-resistant, but I won’t survive a volcanic eruption,” Vayra told him. “You’d not make it over the pass, either.”

“And, hold up a minute,” Perron raised the hand that she wasn’t using to cover the map. “The entrances near the surface were made by the Kudmen Chambers Company for testing recruits and explorers. Only one of you will be allowed through by the gates every day.”

“So…I guess Glade can’t come,” Vayra said. “Unless I waited a day for him.”

“It’s best not to linger in the Night Vale,” said one of the orcs. “I passed through there once, and I barely made it out alive. There’re things in the chambers, monsters like you couldn’t imagine. Hold still too long, and they’ll get you.”

Glade lowered his head, then said, “Then I have no choice. I will wait outside the chambers for Vayra to return.”

After a couple short mumbles of agreement, everyone set out for the night. Perron allowed them to stay in the Camp for the night, but in the morning, they would need to set off—and the sooner, the better.